#center for security race and rights

[plitnick]

Antisemitism and Islamophobia In The US Political Discourse On Israel/Palestine

Sahar Aziz and I had a great, in-depth discussion with Khaled Elgindy of the Middle East Institute about our report, Presumptively Antisemitic: Islamophobic Tropes in the Palestine–Israel Discourse. You can hear the conversation here.

[greengoblinswifey]

In His Arms

pairings— topper thornton x kook!reader, rafe cameron x kook!reader

summary— when Topper places a bet to win you over just to sleep with you, you’re crushed after finding out the truth. in the midst of your heartbreak, you end up in the unexpected arms of your enemy, Rafe, who’s ready to prove he’s the one who truly cares.

warnings— angst, enemies to lovers, topper being an asshole per usual, heartbreak, fingering, oral( f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink, possessive!rafe, fluff.

Rafe Cameron had always been a thorn in your side. From day one, it seemed like his favorite pastime was finding every possible way to get under your skin. “Nice shirt. Did you get it at a thrift store?” he’d sneer, a smug grin tugging at his lips. You rolled your eyes, firing back, “Careful, Rafe. Your insecurities are showing. And no, it’s vintage Chanel, you can’t afford it.”

His laugh was low and dark. “Keep telling yourself that, princess.”

But Topper was different. At first, you’d thought he might be the same as Rafe, but he surprised you with small, genuine gestures that made you feel seen. Over a few months, his attention turned to actual dates, and soon, he had you believing maybe he was genuinely interested. He’d take you to dinner, text you first, and make you feel like the center of his world.

Little did you know, behind his sweet smiles and warm texts, Topper’s interest wasn’t as innocent as it seemed. It had all started as a dare from Kelce, get the famously “cold-hearted” kook to fall for him. But the more time you spent with him, the less you cared about the rumors, until one day, Rafe overheard Topper boasting about his plans.

Rafe cornered him at a party, his voice low and dangerous. “You’re really going through with this?” he asked, a flicker of something unrecognizable in his eyes.

“Relax, man. It’s just a bet. After I get to fuck her, I’ll be done,” Topper smirked, shrugging.

Rafe’s jaw clenched. “She thinks you actually like her.”

Topper laughed, shaking his head. “I think you’re the one getting worked up over this, Rafe. Didn’t realize you cared so much.”

Rafe scoffed, but a knot formed in his stomach. As much as he hated to admit it, something about this bothered him. More than it should. He didn’t know what to do so as usual he snorted his worries away. Getting high made him forget.

On a date at a high end restaurant, Topper’s gaze was warm, his hand gently brushing your cheek. “You’re stunning, you know that?” he whispered, his smile making your heart race. For once, you felt seen. The weeks of getting to know him had softened your defenses, and as much as you resisted, you were falling.

“I’ll be right back,” you said, excusing yourself to the bathroom. But as you turned the corner, you collided right into Rafe. He smirked, the usual teasing gleam in his eye. “Careful, wouldn’t want to break a heel on your way back to, oh, wait, is that Topper you’re here with?”

Rolling your eyes, you snapped back, “Yes, not that it’s any of your business.”

For once, he didn’t have a comeback ready. His face shifted, momentarily speechless, and before he could say anything else, you turned and headed back, brushing off his attempt to stop you. Watching you walk away, Rafe’s jaw tightened as he wrestled with thoughts he’d rather ignore.

Later, at Kelce’s party, Topper’s arm was securely around your waist with you in his lap as you both laughed and drank. The warmth of his body against yours, the way he looked at you, and his gentle kisses made you forget everything else. He leaned in, his voice low, “Maybe we should take things to the next level tonight, yeah? I wanna fuck you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, his hands tracing along your inner thigh. “Sure, we can do it tonight. After the party.” His grin widened, and you felt a surge of excitement. Tonight was going to be special.

You excused yourself from Topper’s lap and slipped into the kitchen for a drink, Rafe was there, his face unreadable. He looked at you, and this time, there was no hint of a smirk. “So...you and Topper. You finally…?”

You glared at him. "That’s low, even for you, Rafe."

He shook his head. “You’re making a mistake. It’s just a bet to him.”

You rolled your eyes. “Maybe you’re the one who has a problem, Rafe. What, jealous I’m not with you instead?”

He scoffed, looking you in the eyes. “You’re so caught up in yourself that you can’t tell when someone doesn’t care, and when someone actually does. Get your head out your ass.”

You scoffed, dismissing his words. In the bathroom, you touched up, telling yourself it was just Rafe being Rafe—always looking for a way to throw you off.

As you walked back out, you caught the end of a conversation between Topper and Kelce. “She actually likes me,” Topper laughed, voice laced with cockiness. “Tonight, I’m gonna win this bet, fuck her, leave her and finally shut down her little ice queen act.”

Every word struck you like a slap. Rafe’s eyes met yours across the room as the reality hit, and as the other Kooks chuckled, you turned and ran.

Topper’s voice called after you frantically, but Rafe was the only one who followed.

Rafe caught up to you just as you stumbled outside, and you could feel his presence before he even spoke. He opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off. “Don’t. Just don’t say anything, Rafe.”

He nodded, surprisingly quiet. “I’m not here to say I told you so,” he murmured.

For the first time, he saw you as you really were, vulnerable, your walls lowered. His own heart twisted as he saw a tear slip down your cheek, and he felt an unfamiliar ache. You hugged yourself, looking utterly lost, and before he could stop himself, he stepped forward, hesitantly wrapping his arms around you, almost as if asking for permission.

You didn’t pull away. Instead, you melted into him, and he began to rub your back gently, his hand moving up to stroke your hair. “It’s okay,” he whispered, “You’re wasting tears on someone who doesn’t deserve them.”

You pulled back, attempting to hide your tear-streaked face, but he brushed your cheek softly with his thumb, wiping the tears away. You took a shaky breath. “I feel so stupid,” you whispered. “I should have seen it.”

Rafe shook his head, his voice low. “Topper’s the idiot here. Not you.”

On the drive home, Topper’s texts kept buzzing through your phone, his apologies and pleas for you to listen just making it worse. Rafe glanced over. “You don’t have to read those, you know.”

When you reached your parents’ mansion, Rafe turned to you. “I don’t think you should be alone tonight. Let me come in, just to make sure you’re okay.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not going to do anything drastic, Cameron.”

A ghost of a smile flickered across his face, but he followed you inside and up to your room. He sat on the edge of your bed, and you found yourself collapsing next to him, leaning into his shoulder. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close.

For a moment, neither of you could quite believe it, you, in Rafe Cameron’s arms, and Rafe, holding you like you were something fragile, something he needed to protect. The silence settled over you both, emotions filling the space in a way words couldn’t before you started sobbing again.

Rafe’s chest tightened with anger as each soft sob left your lips, his urge to protect you growing stronger by the second. He couldn’t bear to see you like this, broken by someone he’d thought was his friend. Steeling himself, he abruptly went to the bathroom, grabbing a damp rag, and returned to gently wipe your tear-streaked cheeks. You gazed up at him with wide, vulnerable eyes, but his focus was on making sure every tear was gone, trying to wash away the hurt you’d been through.

Without thinking, he murmured, “You’re beautiful.” Your breath hitched, and though you didn’t respond, the emotions between you both hung heavy in the air. Slowly, you climbed onto his lap, closing the gap between you as your lips met his, first softly, then with a rough, growing passion that surprised you both. You could feel his need, his care, and in that moment, every lingering hurt seemed to fade. But as you pulled back, reality crept back in, a flicker of fear crossing your face.

“Rafe...was part of the bet for you to…?”

His face fell, and he held your cheeks, meeting your gaze with a sincerity that surprised even him. “I would never do that to you. I’m not a monster.” His voice was soft but firm, hurt at the very thought. “Topper’s an idiot for what he did, and I’ll make sure he regrets it. I’m sorry you ever had to go through that.”

Your fingers traced along his jawline, a silent acknowledgment, and before either of you knew it, you leaned in again, your kiss deepening. You slipped out of your crop top, and his breath hitched, seeing your bare breasts in front of him for the first time, realizing just how much had changed between you in that one night.

Rafe took in your beauty, his voice barely above a whisper as he asked if he could touch you. With a soft nod, you felt his hands reach for your tits, gentle yet filled with a yearning that matched your own. His lips found your skin, leaving a trail of kisses as his hands roamed, exploring with a careful reverence. You grasped at his buzzed hair, arching into his touch, and he responded by holding you even closer.

“Rafe,” you pleaded, not even sure what you were begging for as you felt his lips and tongue fiddle with your nipples and pleasure surge through your body.

“What is it baby? What do you want me to do?” he inquired, in between nibbling on your tits.

“I- just help me forget, please.”

He complied, willing to do anything to take away your hurt. He lifted and laid you gently on the bed, going between your long legs and slowly taking off your shorts and the lacy thong underneath.

“Wow,” he gasped, “prettiest fucking pussy i’ve ever seen. So fucking glad he didn’t get to take this off you tonight.” You giggled, smiling for the first time after everything happened, a part of you was glad too.

He grabbed under your thighs, making your legs sit on his shoulders before he delved into the exquisite cuisine before him that was your wet core. “You taste amazing sweetheart,” he said, slipping a finger inside your tight hole.

“God, I can barely get a finger in, how’s my dick gonna fit?” Rafe was only your second sexual experience, probably one of the reasons Topper wanted you so bad. To feel like he conquered you in some way even if he wasn’t the one to take your virginity.

The asshole was knocked out of your mind when Rafe’s efforts sped up and all that could be heard were the sound of your pussy wet and squelching and your own moans, praising him.

“That feels so good, you make me feel so good.”

“Never thought I’d hear those words princess, I could get used to it.” That stupid smirk was back on his face and this time, you welcomed it.

He continued sucking and flicking your clit with his tongue before slipping in another finger making you feel full and writhe in the feeling of your g spot being constantly toyed with.

“I can feel this tight pussy clenching around my fingers, let go for me baby, it’s okay, I want you to cum on my tongue.”

You complied with his request, your hands grasping the little hair he had as he held you down and continued eating your pussy through your high. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your head became foggy and all you could think about was how good he made you feel.

After you came down from your high, he kissed you from your pussy, to your stomach, up your chest, your cheeks, your lips then to your forehead, muttering praises in between.

“So beautiful.”

“You did so good for me.”

“Only I can make you feel this good.”

He removed the remnants of his undergarments and you bit your lip seeing the large package he owned.

“Huge ego but you have the package to match,” you said, almost in disbelief.

“What can I say.” He pumped his cock a few times, spreading the pre cum on his glistening head before hovering above you, his eyes on yours as he used it to rub all over your entrance. You moaned his name as he teased you, wrapping your legs around him so you could feel him inside you. You needed him.

Rafe’s gaze lingered on you, a mix of softness and intensity as he moved closer, brushing his lips across your neck, his breath warm against your skin. In a low voice, he murmured, “I should’ve done this a long time ago.” Each word sent a shiver through you, his hands tracing along your sides with a careful yet undeniable eagerness, as if he was finally allowing himself to experience something he’d been holding back.

He took his time inside you, eyes locked with yours, watching every reaction, every flicker of feeling that crossed your face. “You’re perfect, made just for me,” he whispered, his voice barely audible but filled with sincerity. His kisses trailed along your neck and shoulders, and his touch grew bolder, each one drawing soft, involuntary moans from you.

Your hands found his shoulders as you arched into him, your breaths mingling as you lost yourself in the intensity between you. He moved slowly at first, unhurried, each motion deliberate, giving you time to adjust, to feel every moment as his hold on you tightened. When you whispered, barely louder than a breath, asking him to “go deeper”, his control wavered, and a new depth of intensity overtook him. His grip on you tightened as his movements deepened, and his eyes darkened with a desire that matched your own.

Soft praises slipped from him in between breaths, the words laced with emotion as he murmured, “You feel incredible, don’t want this to end.” You didn’t want it to end either. His voice wove through the moment, filling every space with warmth and reassurance, grounding you as much as it set your heart racing. Each whispered word made you feel seen, safe, protected, and deeply wanted.

The world seemed to fall away as he held you, every touch, every kiss echoing the intensity of his words. In that shared silence, it was clear, this wasn’t just a fleeting moment. Rafe had wanted this, wanted you, and now, with you in his arms, he was finally where he wanted to be.

He held you tightly, his voice a soothing murmur against your skin as he encouraged, “Cum baby, I know you want to, don’t worry, I’ve got you.” As you surrendered, a wave of warmth and release washed over you, his name slipping from your lips in soft, whispers. He continued to hold you close, his movements slowing as he whispered gentle praises, his touch filled with tenderness you didn’t know Rafe Cameron had within him.

As he watched you catch your breath, his gaze softened, pride flickering in his expression as he murmured, “You took me so well, love.” Even though he could see the tiredness in your eyes, the spark in his hadn’t dimmed. With a gentle shift, he turned you onto your stomach, drawing your ass up to him. His hand found yours, fingers lacing together, as he moved again, each touch and whisper reassuring you that he wasn’t done cherishing you yet.

Rafe’s hands settled firmly around your waist, pulling your ass flush against him as he fucked you. Holding you close, he thrusted slowly at first, ensuring you felt every sensation, every gentle movement. His words filled the quiet between breaths, “You’re perfect, my good girl,” he murmured. When you let out a soft gasp, he grinned, pressing a kiss against your shoulder. “Look at you,” he said, his voice low. “Completely mine.”

You felt him lean closer, his lips beside your ear as he whispered, “Need you to cum again for me.” His hand drifted to your waist, holding you steady as you lost yourself in the rhythm. When you hesitated, telling him you couldn’t cum again, he tilted chin to the side so you could look back at him, “You can do it. For me.” His words were all the encouragement you needed, and as you gave in, his own quiet groans echoed with yours.

In the final moments, he pulled you back against his chest, his hand finding yours as he intertwined your fingers, grounding you in the moment. And when he softly said, “I’m never letting you go,” you knew it was more than just words, it was a promise.

His voice became a low, possessive whisper against your ear. “I’m going to make sure everyone knows you’re mine,” he murmured, each word sending a thrill through you. “Topper will see, you were always mine.”

His grip on your waist tightened as he guided you, his movements growing more deliberate. With a quiet groan, he leaned down, brushing his lips along your neck as he whispered, “I’m going to make you mine in every way, fill you up and get you fucking pregnant, make sure everyone knows who you belong to.”

You felt your breath hitch, your heart pounding as his words echoed in your mind. “Rafe,” you gasped and he met your gaze, his expression both tender and fierce.

With a quiet laugh, he pressed you down gently, his hands warm and steady as he continued, “Shhh, just take my cum, take my babies deep inside your pussy.” His words were intoxicating and his own breaths grew heavier as he moved closer. And in that moment, he promised, “You’re my future and that baby that’s gonna grow inside you will be too.”

His thrusts grew more frantic as he was determined to make sure your pussy swallowed every drop of his warm cum. You moaned each other’s name as you felt him fill you up, halting as he was deep inside you, making sure all the ropes of his cum went nowhere else. “Taking my cum so well baby, you’re gonna be so fucking sexy pregnant, you’re mine now, all mine.”

You hummed in content as he fell beside you and pulled you close. He quickly slipped out of bed bringing a damp towel as he cleaned your body and you reached out just wanting him to hold you.

“Thank you Rafe,” you whispered finally breaking the comfortable silence.

His voice softened, his hand resting on your cheek as he brushed a thumb gently along your skin. “You don’t have to thank me,” he murmured, his eyes searching yours with a tender intensity. “You’re mine now, and you’re going to be mine forever.” He wrapped you closer, holding you as if he never wanted to let go. “With our baby growing inside you, I’ll take care of you like you deserve.”

His gaze didn’t falter, full of a love he could hardly keep hidden now, and you felt yourself relax into his embrace, feeling safe and cared for. His words wrapped around you like a promise, his lips brushing softly against your forehead as he held you. There was something so certain in the way he looked at you, and in that moment, nothing else seemed to matter.

[sofiatarot]

PAC: If I were your partner: How I’d treat you, win your heart, and fulfill your desires... ❤️‍🔥

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to have someone treat you exactly the way you dream of? the way you truly deserve? In this reading, I’ll dive deep into how I’d love, cherish, and spoil you as your partner. We'll see what makes your heart race, how I’d go the extra mile to win you over, and a glimpse into what the passion between us might look like. Let’s uncover what your perfect partner would bring to the table.

TIP JAR - FREE READINGS - PAID READINGS

1->2

3->4

Take this as a sign—this is the lover you’ve been manifesting. There are no coincidences, only fate bringing you closer to what you truly deserve. Get ready, because the universe is sending someone who will treat you exactly like this… and maybe even better.

Group 1

Okay so... I get the impression that you wouldn’t make this easy… You crave a connection that’s more than just surface-level. You’re not here for fleeting infatuations or hollow promises—you need someone who can show up with passion, depth, and consistency. What makes your heart race is the idea of a partner who can handle the highs and lows of life with you, someone who knows how to celebrate your wins but also stand by you when the weight of the world feels heavy. You’re drawn to someone who’s bold enough to take action yet emotionally intuitive enough to make you feel understood.

I’d have to treat you just right to earn your trust… Winning your heart wouldn’t be a game; it’d be a commitment. You’d fall for someone who isn’t afraid to put in the work, to prove their loyalty through actions, not just words. I’d have to show you that I’m strong enough to carry my own weight while being gentle enough to support yours when you need it. You’d appreciate someone who takes the time to understand your complexities, who doesn’t shy away from your emotional depth, and who knows how to balance ambition with tenderness.

This is undeniable… I know you’d want something raw and real… Behind closed doors, you’re someone who loves intensity. You crave moments that feel almost electric—like passion that builds slowly and then crashes over you all at once. I’d know how to take my time, teasing out every ounce of desire until you’re begging for release. There’s something about the push and pull that excites you, isn’t there? The tension of holding back, only to give in completely. I’d make sure you feel like the center of my universe in those moments, with nothing else mattering but us.

I’d have to surprise you, though… You’re not someone who’s impressed by the predictable. You’d love a partner who keeps you guessing, who knows how to reignite the spark when things feel too routine. I’d make it my mission to keep things fresh, whether that means spontaneous adventures or quiet nights filled with whispered promises. You’d appreciate someone who knows how to balance the thrill of the new with the comfort of the familiar, always leaving you wanting more.

I think I’d have to match your intensity… You’re someone who needs a partner who can meet you on your level. You’re not interested in someone who’s going to shy away from the fire—you need someone who’s willing to step into it with you. I’d show you that I can handle your passion, your ambition, and your emotional depth without flinching. You’d love a partner who sees your strength and meets it with their own, creating a connection that feels both powerful and unshakable.

But I’d also need to make you feel secure… You’re not someone who can thrive in uncertainty. You’d fall for a partner who makes you feel grounded, who proves their love through their actions and their presence. I’d make sure you know that you’re my priority, that I’m here to support you and celebrate you in every way possible. You’d love someone who sees the beauty in your vulnerability and cherishes it rather than taking it for granted.

Oh, now this is interesting…

Something tells me you’d like to take control sometimes… You’re someone who knows what you want, and I’d love nothing more than to give it to you. Whether it’s letting you call the shots or completely surrendering to your desires, I’d make sure you feel empowered in every way. You’d appreciate a partner who can read between the lines, who knows how to anticipate your needs without you having to say a word.

I think you’d love the little things, too… You’re someone who notices the details—the way someone remembers your favorite coffee order or the way they hold your hand when you’re nervous. I’d make it my mission to show you how much I care in all the small ways, proving that love isn’t just about grand gestures but also about the quiet moments that make life beautiful.

And in the end, I’d make sure you feel like the only one… You’d love a partner who makes you feel like the center of their universe, who shows you every day that you’re cherished, desired, and deeply loved. I’d make sure you know that you’re my priority, always and forever. You deserve nothing less.

Group 2

I can tell you have a romantic heart but a practical mind...

You’re someone who loves the idea of deep, soulful connections, but you’re not here for fleeting infatuations. You’re drawn to love that feels purposeful, where every moment builds toward something meaningful. What makes your heart race is the idea of someone who understands both your dreams and your doubts, someone who can balance passion with stability.

Oh, there’s no question about it… I’d have to show you I’m serious about you… Winning your heart would mean showing you that I’m not just talk—I’d need to back it up with action. You’re not impressed by empty promises; you need someone who can follow through and prove their commitment. I’d make it clear that I’m here to build something real with you, not just chase after fleeting thrills. You’d fall for someone who sees your worth and doesn’t shy away from putting in the effort.

So I’d take my time making you feel special… You’re someone who loves the little moments as much as the grand gestures. Behind closed doors, I’d make sure every touch, every word, every kiss feels intentional. You’d love a partner who knows how to build anticipation, teasing out the tension until it’s almost too much to bear. I’d make sure you feel completely worshipped, like nothing else in the world matters except you.

I have a feeling you’re the type who craves a bit of mystery… You’re not someone who wants everything laid out right away—you’d love a partner who keeps you guessing, who adds a touch of intrigue to the relationship. I’d make sure to surprise you, whether it’s with unexpected adventures or the way I look at you when you least expect it. You’d love the feeling of discovering new layers to someone, always keeping things fresh and exciting.

I’d need to balance passion with stability… You’re not here for chaos—you want a connection that feels grounded yet still electric. I’d make it my mission to show you that I can offer you both security and excitement, blending the best of both worlds. You’d fall for someone who can handle your complexities without trying to change you, someone who embraces your depth and matches it with their own.

I sense that you’d appreciate being cherished… You’d love a partner who pays attention to the details, who notices the little things that make you smile and finds ways to incorporate them into everyday life. I’d make sure to show you that I see you, truly see you, in a way that makes you feel loved and appreciated beyond words.

And let’s be honest, you’d love to feel desired… Behind closed doors, you’d appreciate a partner who knows how to take control when needed but also gives you the space to express your own desires. I’d know exactly how to tune into what you need, finding the perfect balance between softness and intensity. You’d love someone who knows how to push your boundaries in the best ways, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

I’d make you feel like the only one in the room… You’re someone who loves to be reminded of how special you are, whether it’s through words, actions, or the way I look at you. I’d make sure you know that you’re my priority, that everything I do is with you in mind. You deserve nothing less than a love that makes you feel like you’re walking on air.

And in the end, I’d make sure you feel secure and adored… You’d fall for someone who makes you feel like you’re their everything, someone who doesn’t just say they love you but shows it in every way possible. I’d make sure you know that you’re deeply cherished, desired, and loved beyond measure.

Group 3

It’s clear to me now… you’ve got walls up, but they’re worth climbing… You’re someone who doesn’t let just anyone in—you need a partner who’s willing to earn your trust and prove that they’re here for the right reasons. What makes your heart race is the idea of someone who’s not afraid to put in the effort, who sees your strength and admires it but also makes you feel safe enough to let your guard down.

I’d have to show you that I’m not going anywhere… Winning your heart would mean proving that I’m here for the long haul. You’d appreciate someone who’s patient, who doesn’t push but instead lets the connection grow naturally. I’d show you that I see the real you, the version of you that you don’t show to everyone, and I’d make sure you know that I love every part of it.

I’d make you feel unstoppable… Behind closed doors, you’re someone who loves intensity. You’d want a partner who knows how to take control but also lets you express your own power. I’d make sure to create moments that feel electric, where every touch and every look sends shivers down your spine. You’d love the feeling of being completely seen, desired, and adored in those intimate moments.

It’s written all over you—you’d need a mix of strength and softness… You’re not someone who’s drawn to extremes—you’d love a partner who knows how to balance their strength with vulnerability. I’d make sure to show you that I’m both capable and caring, strong enough to stand by your side but also soft enough to hold you when you need it.

I’d need to earn your respect first… You’re not someone who’s easily impressed by charm—you need substance. I’d make it my mission to prove that I’m someone worth your time, someone who can match your intelligence, your ambition, and your drive. You’d love a partner who’s not afraid to challenge you but also knows how to support you when it counts.

Mhm, I can almost picture it now…you like to keep things exciting… You’d appreciate a partner who knows how to keep the spark alive, who’s willing to try new things and push boundaries. I’d make sure every moment with me feels fresh and exciting, whether it’s through spontaneous adventures or the way I look at you like you’re the only person in the world.

And let’s not forget—you’d love to feel adored… You’re someone who appreciates the little things, the moments that show you how much you’re loved and valued. I’d make sure to pay attention to the details, showing you that I care in ways that go beyond words. You’d fall for someone who makes you feel like you’re the center of their universe.

I’d make sure you feel completely secure… You’re not someone who thrives in uncertainty—you need a partner who makes you feel grounded and safe. I’d make sure you know that you’re my priority, that I’m here to support you and stand by you no matter what. You’d love someone who proves their love through their actions, not just their words.

And in the end, I’d make sure you feel truly seen… You’d fall for a partner who sees the real you, who loves every part of you, even the parts you try to hide. I’d make sure you know that you’re deeply cherished and adored, that you’re the love of my life in every way.

Group 4

I get the feeling you don’t just let anyone get close to you… You’re someone who knows their worth and keeps your guard up until someone proves they’re worth your time. What you crave is a love that feels equal, where you’re respected, cherished, and understood. You’re drawn to a partner who brings balance to your life—someone who knows how to handle your complexities while making you feel like the most important person in the room.

I’d need to show you that I can match your depth… Winning your heart wouldn’t be a simple task. You’d make me work for it, and honestly, I’d enjoy every second of the challenge. You’d need to see consistency from me—proof that I’m not just here for the good times but also for the hard ones. I’d show you I can handle your storms without flinching, making it clear that I’m not just here to take, but to give in every way you deserve.

Now, I’d make you feel like royalty… Behind closed doors, you’d need a partner who knows how to pay attention to every single detail of your pleasure. You don’t settle for half-hearted attempts; you want someone who’s completely attuned to you. I’d make sure to build anticipation, teasing and pleasing until there’s nothing left but pure satisfaction. With me, you’d never have to doubt how desirable you are—I’d remind you every second of the way.

You’re the type who’d keep me guessing, and I’d love that… You’re not someone who lays it all out on the table—you love to keep things intriguing. I’d make it my mission to uncover all your hidden sides, to show you that I’m just as fascinated by your quiet moments as I am by your wild ones. You’d love having a partner who keeps things exciting without ever rushing you, someone who knows how to navigate your rhythm.

I’d have to prove I’m someone you can truly trust… You don’t give your heart easily, and I wouldn’t expect you to. To win you over, I’d show you that I’m someone who can hold your secrets, your fears, and your dreams without ever using them against you. You’d appreciate a partner who makes you feel safe enough to be vulnerable, someone who protects your heart as if it were their own.

And I know you’d want a love that feels equal… You wouldn’t settle for a relationship where one person gives all the effort. You’d want someone who invests just as much as you do, who meets you in the middle and makes you feel valued. I’d make it clear that I see you as my equal, my partner in every sense of the word, and that I’m here to create something extraordinary with you.

Let’s be honest, you’d love a partner who can handle your intensity… You’re not afraid of passion, and you’d need someone who knows how to match yours without being overwhelmed by it. I’d make sure to embrace every part of you, from your fiery moments to your softer ones. You’d fall for a partner who makes you feel free to express all sides of yourself, knowing you’ll never be judged for it.

I’d make sure you feel seen in ways no one else could… You’d love a partner who notices the things about you that others miss—the way your eyes light up when you’re excited, or the subtle shifts in your tone when you’re trying to hide your emotions. I’d show you that I don’t just see the surface—I see the real you, and I’m completely captivated by every part of it.

And in the end, I’d make you feel irreplaceable… You’re not someone who’d be content with anything less than a love that feels all-encompassing. I’d make sure you know, every single day, that you’re my priority, my muse, and my greatest treasure. With me, you’d never feel like you’re settling—you’d know you’ve found someone who’s truly worthy of you.

I could be a better boyfriend than him—

xoxo🌙

[kettlefire]

Not so Different. (DcxDp)

The stunned silence was louder than the rest of the gala had been. Every single pair of eyes were wide with shock, fear, and even concern. The last sound to have left the patrons was scattered gasps at the reveal.

It was meant to be simple. A new up and coming technological company had put all their savings into this. A huge gala to show of the reason the world needed their technology. Needed their help.

No one believed it. Truly, who could have? A large group of men and women dressed purely in white suits, spouting about the threats of ghosts. It was insane and impossible.

Many of the big names that attended today only came for publicity. The notoriety that came with having been there when this company crashed and burned in one night.

It's the only reason Bruce Wayne was even among the crowd. Accompanied by Oliver Queen and his own son, Dick Grayson. As much as Bruce hadn't wanted to be here, he knew his reputation was important to keep up.

That was until two agents stepped out onto a stage they had at the back of the large room. A thick curtain had kept the sight behind it completely hidden from the patrons. Until the moment was right. That was when the thick curtain had suddenly been ripped back, as a third man took a microphone and began to explain.

But his words fell on deaf ears. Especially for the three secret vigilantes in the crowd. Not a single person could tear their gaze away from the cage that now stood in full view.

It wasn't the cage that had everyone enraptured. No, it was the glowing creature curled up in the center of it. No, not a creature. It was a boy. Still baby faced and youthful. Too young to be in a cage.

A high-tech muzzle was securely wrapped tightly against the boy's mouth. His knees pulled tight to his chest, one arm wrapped around them. His other hand pressed tight against the muzzle, seeming to almost be trying to keep it in place.

The boy's toxic green eyes were wide, filled with a clear intensity of pain and terror. There were old tear stains on his cheeks, quickly being replenished with fresh tears. His messy, bright white hair fell into his face. The boy looked both like he wanted to look away, but also like he couldn't. Like he couldn't risk not seeing the threat coming.

It didn't take a genius to see the boy was in pain. Human or not, this went beyond inhumane treat. Making minds racing with thoughts of what else these people had done to the poor boy.

Bruce knew in this moment that this company had just caught the attention of Batman. Based on the look in Oliver's eyes, they also just collected the wrath of the Justice League as well. Bruce hadn't even needed to look at Dick to know he was on the same page.

It went unnoticed by any other patrons. All the focus was glued on the stage, on the lecture and caged boy. No one noticed when Bruce Wayne slipped his phone of his pocket. When he hit a singular speed dial as he turned away from the show. He brought his phone to his ear as he silently signaled his trusted allies to keep an eye on it.

[toxicanonymity]

stuffing.

5.7k words, Joel x f!reader x Tommy | sequel here! A/N: ONE SHOT. I had to get this out of my system after that one Uncle Tommy line I wrote in september lol. Shoutouts to: @bonezone44 for being an Uncle Tommy stan, @/walkintotheriveranddisappear for running the center for dvp excellence, and everyone who's been supportive. 🖤 Multiple fic recs at the bottom! WARNINGS: I8+, big girthy age gap, darkish miller bros, dubcon (coaxing/pressure, you aren't sure what Joel allows), use of "daddy," sharing, unsafe p in v (individually and together), oral, jacking off, creampies, cucking, MFM, DP (double vag), light degradation, praise, pet names, foot massage. AU where you don't overthink this fic. You’re happy with Joel, but it’s not a healthy relationship with clear communication and boundaries. Joel carries reader. TW: incidental incest via MFM/DVP - If this isn't for you, please quietly move along.

📢 Orgs to consider donating to for t-giving: alight (refugee support), cultural survival (indigenous rights advocacy)

🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂

Joel squats down with one hand on the back of your chair. He admires your face then cups your cheek. “Gotta do somethin’, baby. Won’t be back tonight.” The casual announcement makes your heart race.  He kisses you on the forehead, then stands up. 

“What do you mean you won’t be back tonight?”

“It’s okay, baby. Uncle Tommy’s gonna stay with ya.”

Your face gets hot. Tommy tilts his head down and smiles at you from across the breakfast table. He raises his glass of juice in acknowledgement, but you don’t look at him. You look squarely at Joel, caught off guard by his plans.

“Daddy,” you whine. “Just lemme come with you.” 

“Ain’t that kinda trip, darlin’.” 

“Why can’t he do it?”

Tommy laughs silently and his voice goes up an octave. “What’sa matter, sweetheart? Don’t wanna hang out?” He tilts his head and smiles, then his normal voice returns. “That’s okay.” There's a glimmer in his eye. 

Joel grabs his jacket and kisses you goodbye, then says, “Don’t have too much fun without me,” and winks at Tommy. Then Joel's gone, just like that. Your tummy feels nervous as his truck starts, then drives away. 

-

It's Thanksgiving week. You have a lot to be thankful for. Joel loves you and takes good care of you. You have solar power and a nice farm with a secure perimeter. Tommy is visiting for the holiday. You met Tommy in passing long ago, but his girl at the time was with him, and that was before you were Joel’s. You were just the girl down the street. This week is the first time you've really spent time together. 

Joel would kill any other man for touching you, but apparently he's different about Tommy.  You're still figuring out how that works.  Joel doesn't seem to mind what Tommy sees–or feels–when the three of you are together.  But what about when you're alone? 

Does Joel know Tommy walked by the bedroom window and saw you undressing? Does he know Tommy came to apologize for that when you were fresh out of the shower, and saw you in a towel? Or that he looked you up and down, asked if Joel was treating you right, then gave a low whistle and adjusted himself before he left? Or that you touched yourself almost as soon as he closed the door?

*******

Last night, Joel put you in Tommy's lap in the armchair to give you a foot massage, and you tried not to react when Tommy got hard. “It's ok,” Tommy whispered with his hands on your hips. He pulled you back against his hard bulge with a soft grunt and it gave you a shock of desire. 

“It's ok, darlin,” Joel echoed, kneeling at your feet. Joel placed your heel on his own hardening package as he worked on the ball of your foot. 

Tommy's hand cupped your breast and you tensed. 

Joel glanced up. “Relax, baby. It's just Uncle Tommy.” 

“It's ok,” Tommy whispered again into your hair as his other hand crept up your thigh, higher and higher, until his thumb grazed your panties. Joel continued massaging you, unbothered, then switched to the other foot. 

Tommy's thick fingers glided over your panties and you twitched as he felt the dampness. He lifted his hips with a soft grunt, then cleared his throat.  “gonna take care of your girl tonight, Joel? She's drippin’ like a faucet.”  Your cheeks burned, and Tommy ran his hand down your thigh. 

Joel smiled with half his mouth as he glanced up. “makin’ a mess already?” Joel shook his head.  “Close your legs, darlin'.” 

Your stomach dropped and you stammered, “sorry, uh . . .”

But as soon as you closed your legs, Tommy lifted your dress up, making your whole body tingle with goosebumps. Joel’s face gave away nothing as he looked past you at Tommy.  For a moment, you thought Tommy had gone too far. Then Joel hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, and Tommy held you back against his chest as Joel slid them off. Joel spread your knees, and Tommy's, and knelt between them, closer. 

With his armpits resting over your thighs, Joel looked at your cunt hungrily and spread you open with his thumbs. You tilted your hips for him, feeling yourself gush. “Good girl,” he murmured, then planted his right forearm on your lower belly. With his right fingers pointing down, he ran them through your dripping folds, then drew in a deep breath through his nose before bringing his mouth between your legs. 

Joel lapped at your weeping hole and sucked your clit. He fingered you and made out with your cunt like it was just another night, like he was getting ready to fuck you. Meanwhile, Tommy lightly grinded into your ass, breathing warm and wet into your hair and holding you gently in his strong arms as Joel devoured your pussy. Tommy rocked you gently on his lap, rocking you into Joel’s mouth. Joel ate you out at the same rhythm.  When you came, Tommy’s arousal pressed harder against you and he grabbed your breast. He cooed, “good girl.”  

Joel didn't seem to mind, and it felt really good, but you got self conscious after you finished. Tommy caressed your arm as Joel wiped his mouth off. “I'm sleepy, daddy,” you looked at him with big eyes.

Joel looked at you fondly, squeezed your thigh, and said, “I know, darlin’. Give Uncle Tommy a kiss goodnight.”  You turned around and kissed him on the cheek, then mumbled “goodnight” without meeting his eyes. 

—

Joel scooped you up in his arms. You went to bed with Joel and only Joel. As soon as he laid you down, you asked, “you're not mad about Tommy touching me?”

“Felt good, didn't it?” 

You gave a small nod. 

“Nice havin’ four hands.” Joel raised his eyebrows and left it at that. 

You eyed the protrusion in his jeans. “I'm comin’, baby,” he reassured you as he unzipped them. He pulled his jeans and boxers down together and his massive erection sprang free. He prowled across the bed, settled between your legs, and you raised your knees, tilting your hips for him. “Good girl,” he whispered as he got himself into place. 

“God damn, even wetter now,” he muttered as he gathered your slick on his fingers and wiped it on his stiff cock. His tip prodded your dripping hole, then he pushed inside with a sigh, making you moan as he split you open. Joel bottomed out, and the sound that came out of his chest was somewhere between a grunt and a groan, “Uungghh.” You whimpered in pleasure. Then, through the thin wall, you heard Tommy cum with a deep moan. Joel chuckled, then bowed his head and kissed you, pausing all the way inside. 

Joel kissed you softly as he buried his length in you, and your lips broke away only to whimper, “Daddy.”

“Yeah, baby doll,” he whispered into the pillow, right by your ear. “Daddy’s here.” You wrapped your legs around him as he fucked you deep and slow. You imagined Tommy lying behind you, grinding against you, whispering “good girl,” copping a feel as Joel fucked you.  You moaned and whimpered under Joel as he brought you to the brink again.  Then, as your wet little pussy fluttered around his cock, he groaned and bottomed out to fill you with his seed. 

**********

Now it’s morning, Joel's gone, and you're left alone with his brother. His brother with the sweet smile, soft voice, and big dick that felt so hard against you. Don't have too much fun without me, Joel said. . . With a wink.   Unsure what to do with that, you avoid Tommy for most of the day, and he doesn't make you hang out with him. He works in the yard and you catch a few glimpses. He gets hot and takes off his flannel, exposing his wifebeater and oversized belt buckle. As he dabs his forehead with his shirt, his bicep swells and the veins on his hand bulge.

Tommy comes in and takes a shower in the other bathroom. There’s a knock on your bedroom door, then it opens. You’re not sure why you didn’t lock it. Tommy’s wearing jeans, boxers, and nothing else. Your eyes linger on his strong chest. He leans with his hand against the door frame. “Think Joel would let me borrow a shirt? Wasn’t plannin’ to work up a sweat,” he chuckles. 

Tommy crosses his muscular arms over his thick, bare chest as you get a white t-shirt out of Joel's dresser and toss it to him. Tommy’s jeans ride down as he lifts his arms and puts the shirt on in front of you. He catches you looking as his head comes through the hole, then he rakes his fingers through his curls. A subtle smile forms, his eyes twinkle, and he gives you a little nod before he walks away. 

—

Later, you're taking a bath. You sigh as you sink into the water. Then there's a click as the doorknob lock is effortlessly picked. The door opens and Tommy smiles at you with his eyes, biting his bottom lip. He closes the door behind him. The tub squeaks as you quickly pull up your knees to cover your breasts. 

“Musta been touchin’ yourself, huh?” he chuckles as he approaches the tub. “Don't stop on my account.” He winks and his eyes fall on your legs. You scooch them closer together in case he can see through the bathwater. 

Your chest feels warm. You look down and away.

Tommy takes a seat on the tiled floor in front of the garden tub. “C’mon sweetheart, don't be shy.” his arm moves out of view, unbuttoning his jeans. Your nipples harden. He tilts his head to peek from the side and smiles. 

“What do you want?” you ask softly and a low squeak echoes as you shift in the tub. 

“Wanna see ya do it. Go on, finish what ya started.”  

“I wasn't.”

“There's no shame in it, sweetheart”

You swallow and look down.

He studies your face and repeats, “Nothin' to be ‘shamed of. You know that. Right?”

“Tell your brother that,” you whisper and instantly regret it. You pinch your eyes shut and add, “No, don't. . .Please.”

“Oh shit,” Tommy whispers. “Ya can’t, can ya?” 

You barely shake your head, eyes still closed. 

Tommy chuckles. “Controlling fucker, ain't he?” 

You look at Tommy and your eyes widen with some defiant glimmer of hope. “God damn,” he whispers. “keepin’ his girl from touchin’ herself.” He looks down and shakes his head in disapproval.  

He smiles apologetically.  “Guess Daddy knows best, huh?” He tugs his jeans off, and you watch unabashed.  As his pants come off, his boxers ride down, exposing his short, dark pubic hair. You can’t help but admire the way his thigh muscles swell out from his boxers.  

He palms himself over the fabric and raises his eyebrows. “Wanna see it, don’t ya?” He smiles knowingly at you. 

You don’t answer. He shows you anyway, pulling the waistband down under his balls. He's neatly trimmed and his balls are big. He's engorged but not fully hard. 

“Do me a favor and spit in my hand, sweetheart.” He holds it out in front of you. You look back and forth between his eyes, then his freckles. He's a handsome man. His hand stays there, waiting patiently. You gather saliva in your mouth, tilt your head forward, and let it drop into his palm. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs. 

He wraps his hand around his cock and You look into the bath water as his eyes devour your body. In the corner of your eye, you can see him at full mast. He breathes heavier, then moves positions. He sits with his right side against the tub, facing you. He strokes himself with his left hand and dips his right hand into the water. You flinch away then try to relax.  The backs of Tommy’s fingers graze your calf under the water. You squeeze your thighs together. 

“Don't get shy on me now, cupcake.” He reaches behind your calf and touches the back of your leg, near your ass.  Your legs involuntarily part.  He wouldn't do anything Joel wouldn't like. Would he? Somehow the tension of the situation is only making you want it more.  His fingers creep between your legs and caress your inner thigh crease. He sucks in a chest full of air, then gets on his knees. He brings his left hand to your mouth again for lube. 

“Good girl.”  The squelch of his hand around his cock echoes with the new moisture.  He searches your face as half his mouth breaks into a smile.  He holds your inner thigh as he jacks off. Then he straightens your leg so he can see your body better. “God damn,” he murmurs, and the sound of his voice is sharpened by the tile. He rubs your thigh, spits into his other hand, keeps tugging at his cock, then when he's close, he gets up and sits on the edge of the tub. It’s impossible not to look at his stiff, angry cock, glistening with your combined saliva. You still have one knee bent above the water–the knee furthest from him. 

He pumps himself and stands up to face you. “You wanna know how I taste?” He asks. 

You hesitantly shake your head no, unsure if it would be crossing a line.  “Okay, sweetheart. Don't have to.” He aims his cock at the water over your lap, then closes his eyes and groans. “Ohh, God. ohhhh,” it lands sharply in your ears as he erupts. Silky ropes of cum dance in the water, some of it wrapping around your thigh. When he's finished, he pulls his boxers back up, then his jeans, but doesn't zip them up. He sits on the edge of the tub again, leans over it, and kisses you on the forehead. Then he whispers in your ear, “I'll make dinner.” 

—-

You eat together at the kitchen table. There's a cornucopia centerpiece.  The scant conversation is about winter and gardening, until he reaches  under the table and squeezes your thigh. You want him so bad, you blurt out, “what’s happening?” 

He replies, “Huh?” with his hand still on your thigh. 

You search Tommy’s face. “You said it yourself, he’s controlling.” You shift in your chair and he takes his hand back. You continue,  “Why doesn’t he care if you. . .” 

“Ah,” Tommy smiles down at his plate. “Well. . .”  He turns his chair to face you instead of the table. He sits back and manspreads, and his hands rest on his thighs. “I’m just another body to love ya with, sugar.”  His eyes drift to the cornucopia. “And I sure am thankful for it.” 

His eyes return to you, and your heart flutters. 

“He can love on ya when he ain’t here, even.” One of his hands slides up his own thigh to rest closer to his groin. He takes in a deep breath through his nose and nods, admiring you as he slowly exhales. His eyes are darker. 

A desperate want is stirring in your belly. It seems too good to be true. You abruptly announce, “I’m tired. I’m gonna go to bed.”

“Okay, cupcake. C’mere,” Tommy opens his arms. 

You stand between his legs, bend forward, put your arms around his neck and kiss him on the cheek.  As you pull your head back, his hands on your hips pull you into sitting on his thigh. He brings a hand to your cheek, and it melts you. “I wouldn’t do nothin’ he wouldn’t want,” he reassures you.

You nod. 

“End up on the wrong side of the dirt,” he chuckles. When you don’t laugh, he clarifies, “Me, not you. He’d never hurt ya, cupcake.” 

Then he cradles your head with both hands, studying your eyes and lips.  He wets his lips, and your lips part, watching him. Half his mouth twitches. You’re warm all over. He leans in and looks at your mouth again, getting closer. When you can practically feel the heat of his lips on yours, you close the gap and feel a rush of need when your mouths come together. His lips are soft, and the kiss is tender. You pull away after two seconds. 

“Goodnight,” you whisper. 

—---

You lie in bed missing Joel, wishing he would come home.  You feel more at ease with the two of them.  Your mind drifts to Tommy.  At this rate, you wish he would stay.  You’re almost asleep when the bedroom door creaks open. 

“Daddy?” When you turn over, the moonlit silhouette is Tommy's. He's only wearing boxers and there's already a tent in them. He lifts the covers, and the mattress dips under his weight. 

You ask, “What are you doing?”

“'S’okay, cupcake, I told ya. Promise he won’t be mad.”

“How do you know for sure?”

“Your daddy and I been sharin’ our toys for fifty years.”

Your stomach turns, but Tommy adds,  “You're the most special of all, ya know.” He scoots closer. “Never seen him in love before.” 

You feel your body warming and opening up for him. 

“He wants ya to get what ya need, baby,” Tommy whispers. 

Your heart pounds. 

“Even told me your secret word,” Tommy adds. 

“He did?”

“If ya really want me to stop, all ya gotta say is Appleseed.” How would he know that unless Joel told him? 

You turn away from Tommy and he doesn't waste any time before spooning you. His strong arm rests over you and his hand cups a breast. He kisses your neck, soft and wet. The thick, warm rod in his boxers grazes your lower back as he tongues your delicate skin. He kisses your neck with increasing passion, and he kneads your breast.  Then his arousal fully presses against you through his boxers and your nightgown.  

He curves his body around you and pulls you back into him. He sighs and his engorged cock twitches against your crack, giving you a surge of desire. He slides his hand into your nightgown from the top to palm your naked breast and sighs as he grinds against you.  

“God damn, sweetheart,” he whispers as your nipple hardens against his palm. He takes his hand out of your nightgown and cups your breast on top of it again, then his hand slowly slides down your sleepwear, feeling every inch of your torso before arriving at your bare thigh. He nudges his fingers under the hem of your nightgown and slides his hand up your thigh. When his hand reaches your pussy, your top leg lifts ever so slightly, spreading your thighs to make room for him. You're not wearing underwear. 

“Good girl,” he whispers.  You’re aching to have him inside you. “Drippin’ for me ain't ya, baby?” 

He circles your clit, and you moan softly. There's a wet spot on his boxers pressing into you.  “Fuck” he mutters and backs up his hips. “Damnit, I’m drippin’, too,” he chuckles. “Takin’ these off.” 

After taking his boxers off, Tommy hovers over you and you’re still on your side. Tommy's hand comes back to your breast, and you turn your face toward his.  Your lips meet, and after two seconds, you don’t pull away. His lips push yours open and you accept his tongue. You breathe through your nose as he licks into your mouth.  

Tommy pulls back and reads your face, then gives you another soft kiss before settling in behind you, against you, curled around you again. His naked cock is smooth and warm against your ass. He grinds against you for a minute as he massages your breast and moans into your hair.  Then his hand drifts down between your legs and he groans at how wet you are. 

“I gotta be in ya, sugar.” Tommy backs up and wedges his rigid cock between your thighs, and it glides smoothly through your mess of arousal. His tip reaches your clit. You’re throbbing needily. Your hips tilt on their own, offering him your hole. 

“Fuck,” Tommy says as his tip finds your entrance. “Fuck. That’s right, baby.” he pushes his tip into you. You're dying for it, but you're still a little tense and it's making you even tighter. 

“God damn, you feel good. Can't imagine when he first–.” He pushes into you, trying to let your body relax and accommodate his girth. “Oh shit, mmm–that musta been–Fuck.” He pushes a little further. “Relax for me, baby.” He withdraws some then thrusts further into you.  “Relax, sugar,” he whispers. “Just breathe.” You take a deep breath and relax. The last of him slides in and he bottoms out.  “Ohh, good girl. There we go.” He palms your breast and you melt into him.  “We’re right here, baby.” 

He’s got you speared on his cock, spread apart by his girth. “God damn. What a good girl.” 

With his cock fully sheathed, his thick fingers rub circles on your nipple.  You moan, twitching around the new cock buried in the hot center of your body. “Mmm,” he growls into your hair, still not moving. You need friction. He breathes deeply. “breathe with me, baby.” You breathe with him and feel yourself relax more. 

“Please,” you whine, beginning to move your hips. 

His voice is husky. “God damn. Look at ya, sugar. Fuckin’ yourself on Uncle Tommy’s cock?”

“Please,” you whimper again. 

“What's your daddy gonna think?” 

Your walls twitch and your heart skips a beat. “You said–”

“Yeah. . .He'll be fine, sweetheart..” Tommy begins to move his hips. “He’d be proud’a ya, takin’ this cock like such a good girl.”

He begins to fuck you at a steady rhythm, breathing heavily and cursing softly. You begin to relax with his hand mapping the front of your body, and his stiff cock thrusting into you. He palms your tit again and your head tilts back against him. He kisses your neck, and your body opens for him even more. Your cunt swallows him up with every thrust. 

“Ohh, Joel's a lucky man,” he pants with his dick easily sliding into you, making you whole. “Shit, I'm lucky, too–uggh.”  You push back on him as he fills you with his stiff cock. 

He asks, “Little harder?” 

“Mm,” you nod. 

He slams into you and you moan. 

“Yeah, that's our girl.” 

Soon, you’re lost in the pleasure of Tommy’s thick cock pounding you. 

The front door unlocks and you freeze. You’re both facing away from the bedroom door.  “‘S’okay,” Tommy reminds you. He slows his hips, then bottoms out and pauses. “C’mere,” he wraps his arms around you and with his cock still inside, he rolls over on his back, then sets you down on your other side, arms still wrapped around you, his cock only sliding out half way in the process.

As soon as you’re settled, he bottoms out again with a soft moan.   You and Tommy are both facing the bedroom door now. The covers are down around your waist. The handle moves, then the door opens. The silhouette is Joel with his sleeves rolled up. 

—---

As Joel approaches the bed, the moonlight hits him and his face is dark. 

“She’s so good, Joel,” Tommy pants, with you still full of his cock.

Joel comes to the bed and crouches down. “God damn.” Joel gently takes your jaw in his hand and tilts his head. He studies your face, then his eyes land on yours affectionately. “Couldn't go one day, could ya?” He smiles with his eyes and relief washes over you.  

“M’sorry daddy,” you sigh. “Are you mad?”

“No, baby.” Tommy is fucking you slowly. “I ain't mad.” Joel slowly stands up and palms himself over his jeans as he watches your body move to the slow rhythm of Tommy’s thrusts. 

“Really?”

“Baby, I keep ya stuffed so full’a cock. .  . can't blame ya for needin’ it.”

“Yeah,” you whimper. 

“That's what Uncle Tommy's here for,” Tommy whispers. 

“Now I get to see ya,” Joel says “All of ya,” Joel gently pulls the covers all the way off. Then Joel tugs up at the hem of your nightgown and kneels down to take it off you. 

You try to move forward, reaching for Joel, but Joel puts his hand on your bare chest and Tommy pulls you back, bottoming out again with a moan. 

“Want yours,” you whimper.

“Shhh. You're gonna get it.” 

You watch Joel take off all his clothes, and as he does it, he watches you moving at a slow rhythm.  When Joel’s naked, he spits in his hand. He stands by the bed watching you get fucked by his brother, taking in the view as he squeezes his cock. 

“Daddy, please,” you whine. 

Joel sits down on the bed.  Tommy scooches back to make more room and brings you back with him, still impaled on his cock. Joel lies down and faces you. He gets right up against you, and the first thing he does is kiss you. His hard cock lays against your clit and mound, throbbing for you.  You moan into his mouth as Tommy’s cock drags slowly inside you from behind.  

Joel’s arm wedges between your back and Tommy’s chest, grabbing hold of you.  Joel nudges you upward. Tommy takes the hint and pulls out. You wrap your leg over Joel’s hip. His eyes scan your face, marveling at your feral want. Joel’s hand, still on your back, slides down your ass and hooks under it, between your legs, feeling your sopping wet cunt from the back. “God damn, baby. This all you or did Uncle Tommy cum already?”

“Not yet,” Tommy answers. 

Joel’s tip slides through your folds, then he pulls back  and notches himself at your entrance. He moves his hand to your hip, and pushes into you with a sigh. You're so wet and aroused, he sinks all the way into you.  “Fuck,” Joel breathes. “oh, yeah—ugghh–swallowed me right up, baby.” He marvels at how relaxed you are. With Joel’s arm out of the way, Tommy’s tummy returns flush against your back, with his hard, wet cock pressing against your ass cheek. He grabs your tit. 

Joel buries his cock in you. “Oh baby, you love this, don’t ya?” 

You nod. “Love your cock, daddy.” 

“You’re takin’ it so good, baby.  Think you’re wet enough for—ohh, darlin’.” He grinds against you, deep inside you. “You wanna ride this cock, baby?” 

You nod.  Joel slides out of you and you whimper at the loss as he rolls onto his back. Joel lies face up and holds his cock for you. He whispers, “C’mere baby,” but you're already on your way. 

You straddle him and sink right down on him with a whimpered, “daddy,” then bend forward, putting your tits against Joel’s chest. Tommy’s slowly stroking himself and watching. 

“C’mere,” Joel whispers and reaches for your head. He pulls your face into his for a passionate kiss as you grind into him with his cock buried in you. It only takes a few seconds of grinding into Joel for your walls to spasm. 

“Oh god,” he mutters as you contract around him.  “oh—oh, God, baby.” 

As you finish coming on Joel's cock, your whole body relaxes. You’re even wetter and more open than you were before. “Now you’re–oh yeah, you’re good,” Joel whispers to himself with his hands on the backs of your thighs. You both breathe for a moment and you begin to slowly move again.

Joel licks his finger then reaches over your ass, his hand approaching your hole from behind. You stop moving as he gently wedges the thick digit into your cunt from the top so his fingernail is against his cock. “Yeah,” he whispers, moving the finger around, checking how much you'll stretch. “Yeah,” he says as his head turns and he glances at Tommy. 

Joel cups your cheek  and reads your face. “Can I fuck ya with two cocks, baby?” 

You spasm with an aftershock.  “It won't fit,” you protest, but the thought of it turns you on. Your hips begin to move again. You're taking his cock and his finger. 

“Can we find out, baby doll?” Joel asks.

You slowly move on his cock and finger, with your face close to his. Your clit is throbbing.  “You aren't worried to stretch me?”

“You'll snap right back, baby,” Joel pants as he wedges another finger in with his cock. 

“I dunno if I can,” you whine.  

“It’s okay, darlin’. Let's find out.”

“Okay,” you whisper. 

Tommy gets up on his knees and gets close to Joel's shoulder, near your head.  

“Get it nice and wet,” Joel tells you.  

Without getting off Joel's cock, you turn your head enough to accept Tommy's cock into your mouth. You let saliva pool under your tongue, then swirl it all over his shaft until he's dripping. “alright” Tommy whispers, then you deposit the rest of the saliva from under your tongue. “Alright, don't make me cum, sweetheart.” 

Tommy straddles Joel’s legs behind you while Joel hugs you close. 

Tommy nudges your occupied hole. Joel slowly removes his fingers and Tommy’s tip finds its place between the first cock and the back wall of your cunt. Once Tommy's tip is nestled there, Joel’s fingers leave you and both his hands hold your sides. 

“Deep breath,” Tommy whispers. You draw in a chest full of air, and when you begin to exhale, he begins to push in. 

It burns for a moment as Tommy’s cockhead breaches your dripping hole, but his smooth, wet cock feels better than the fingers. “Fuck,” Tommy mutters as he pushes further. 

“Daddy,” you whimper. “It's a lot.”

“I know it is, darlin’, you're doin’ so good.”

“Breathe with me, sweetheart,” Tommy whispers. You take deep breaths and try to relax. The burn fades as your body catches up.  The stretch is only a little uncomfortable around their shafts at the very edge of you. Deeper inside, you feel a fullness you couldn't have imagined.  

“Good,” Joel says. “doin’ real good, baby. You wanna keep goin’?” 

You nod. You take deep breaths and bow your head as Tommy sinks in a little more. 

“God damn, baby. Packed full of it, ain’t ya?”Joel marvels. The look on his face makes you twitch. 

You lock eyes with Joel, bite your lip, and nod. Joel tilts his hips down toward the bed and you groan into Joel’s chest as Tommy pushes into you as much as he can. The burn is fading, and the sense of fullness overwhelms you in the best way. It's not just physical. You close your eyes and savor it. Joel’s hips begin to move. He slides against your front wall, nudging just the right place, making you whimper. 

Tommy slides in rhythm, and his breathing is labored. “Ohhh,” he moans. “Shit-–ugggh.” He warns Joel, “I'm pretty close, brother.”

Joel looks like he's making a calculation behind his eyes. Then he reads your face. “You want double the cum, baby?” 

You nod. 

“That's my girl,” Joel whispers. “That’s my perfect lil girl.” His hips wiggle under you.

“Ohh-fff-uuggh” Tommy pants and pulls back. 

Joel moves his hips and slides within your stuffed hole. Tommy stays still while Joel thrusts a few small strokes and you groan. Tommy pushes forward and you sigh. Joel kisses you. You push back and Tommy slides forward. Joel does another slow thrust upward, then Tommy says “fuck,” pushes another inch, then begins to cum. “Oh god,” Tommy groans. His dick pulses and pulses in your packed cunt as his warm release coats your walls and Joel's cock. 

“Jesus,” Tommy sighs, then begins to pull out of you. The burn returns as the crown of his tip crests your entrance on its way out. Then you whimper in relief. There's a sense of loss as your body slowly draws itself back in, but it's a major comfort still being wrapped around Joel's cock. Tommy lies down on his back to recover. 

“You did so good baby,” Joel brushes your cheek and his hips lift as your body adjusts itself back to his girth. “Ya like havin’ two cocks?” It’s the first time you haven’t felt packed full from Joel’s cock alone, and your temples feel weak. 

You nod hesitantly. “Do I still feel good?”

“Oh darlin’, you feel so good,” he breathes and the tension melts away from your face. 

“Yeah, I liked it,” you whisper. “But I only need one.” 

He cradles your head and  it feels like it's just the two of you. “Love you so much,” he whispers, and brings your face to his again, rolling his hips under you. He kisses you deeply and grinds up into you with his cock all the way inside. Your mouth breaks away with a moan, and your hips begin to move, bringing an obscene squelching sound with them. 

“Oh darlin’,” Joel whispers, and he pulls you back into a kiss.  He grunts into your mouth with a sharp thrust upward, and the tension boils over.  You begin to clench around him. Joel breaks the kiss with a shudder, then he moans your name as you flutter around his cock. His fingers dig into your hips and he pulls you flush, then pulses with a groan. “Ohhhh, fuck—ohhh,” he sighs as he releases a massive load, more than doubling the cum inside you. The rhythm of Joel’s cock soothes you as his load combines with Tommy's. 

—--

You stay on Joel’s cock for a few minutes, and he strokes your back, praising you quietly.  Tommy falls asleep.  Eventually you sigh and whine, "I have to go to the bathroom.” 

“Ok, baby,” Joel whispers and begins to help you off his cock. 

When you come back, Joel helps you into bed between them. You face Joel and he kisses you good night. You feel thankful for him as you drift off to sleep. 

—-

sequel here

-

-

Thank you for reading 🖤 I know people want updates on certain Joels but I haven't been having the easiest time and sometimes writing something new is lower-pressure.

Uncle Tommy is a brain worm I've had for a couple months ever since I blurted it out in another series.

I have another recent Joel x reader ft. Tommy with a different set miller bros: leopard print

And a darker Tommy x reader here: birds of prey

-----

FIC RECS

If you like brotherly sharing, a couple of my personal favorites are

I can be your pretty girl part 4, and part 5 by (RIP) walkintotheriveranddisappear who sadly inactivated

Liquid Gold and its prequel Two Hands to Hold by @gasolinerainbowpuddles,

If you like the idea of daddy/uncle, @bonezone44 has Joel, tommy, and Ezra.

More brotherly sharing - Smack My Bitch Up, a raider AU by @milla-frenchy.

If you wanna suck Tommy's big balls, @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin has you covered.

More fic recs (and more to come) on my rec blog @toxicrecs.

Alright I tried to bring my tag list back and something went wrong so I might have to remove them from the post sorry 🥲

[dcxdpdabbles]

Hi, sorry to bother you, I was just wondering if your planning on updating Congratulations! It's Triplets anytime soon? Because I kinda wanna see what happens once they actually sit down and talk through their misunderstandings because honestly although jazz is probably too busy to go through with it now she was training herself to be one of 2 courses in college which was either neurology or phycology so I figured she'd be the first to recognize that they need to have a sit down and talk with everything laid out or at least partially laid out, it being a really long really difficult conversion with tears trauma flashbacks and probably cake (because let's be honest this convo needs comfort food) and by the end of it they might not even fixed all the misunderstandings they had but it's a start in the right direction :)

"I'm sorry the kids threaten you. They can be a handful," is the first thing out of Jasmine's mouth. She is holding a glass tray with delicious-smelling lasagna, wearing a teal dress that hugs all her curves and seems dolled up for a night out.

She marches right by him, her long red hair falling into wavy curls down her back like waterfalls. They sway with her movement as she leads the way to the dining room.

On the table is a dinner set for two, red candles lit, and the lights dim. It makes him think of all those silly scenes in romance novels he consumed growing up. Jasmine places the tray in the center of the table alongside a salad. She carefully pours some bubbling water into two champagne glasses, humming.

Once done, she turns towards him, taking off the apron wrapped around her front. It reveals a nice but modest view of a split on her dress ending on the edge of her midleg.

"I told them to get you so we can have a dinner date. Bruce offered to babysit for the night." She proclaims, crossing her arms. "I want to see if there is a future for us or if the god of time is just an idiot."

Jason is so stunned by her beauty that he can't find any words to respond. He feels like she just pulled out a live fish and threw it at his face. While he's busy gawking like a fool, the three children squirm in his arms before he feels little hands fumbling around the edge of his helmet.

He jerks his neck away, a warning of bombs on his lips, only to bite his tongue when Dan bypasses his security to pull off the helmet with a laugh. At the same time, Dani reaches up to rip the mask off his face, fast and stiff enough that he swears she was a professional waxer in a past life.

He lets out a yowl, barely able to shift his words from a swear into a substitute. Danny pats his cheek, apologizing for his sibling's lack of manners. Dan doesn't seem to care because he scrambles off Jason's shoulders, head inside of the helmet that was too large for him, and races down the hallway.

"I'm unstoppable!" He screams in glee. Two seconds later, he rams into a wall, hitting it at full force due to the helmet blocking his view. He bounces off the drywall with enough force. He lands on his rear and a soft grunt.

Dani takes that chance to hop out of Jason's arms. She runs at a speed he's sure kids shouldn't be able to reach without having the Allen family gene, tackling Dan before his son can get up. In a tussle that looks too violent for five-year-olds, Dani rips the helmet out of Dan's hands and books it down the hallway, cackling like a loon.

"No! Dani! Give that back!" Dan demands, leaping to his feet and running after his sister. The voice modifiers of their outfits make them sound darker than usual, but it does not make them sound threatening.

Danny sighs heavily. "I better go stop them before that thing blows up. Treat my mom well, or I'll be forced to hurt you."

He patted Jason's cheek again, carefully climbing down to the ground. Despite his words, he calmly walks out of the room, hands tucked into his Prince of Gotham suit pants as if he were going on a casual stroll. The second he reaches the door, he grabs the handle and tugs to close.

Just as it's about to seal, he points two fingers toward his green glowing mask eyes and then points them aggressively at Jason. Once his warning is received, he finishes closing the door.

Jason is left standing in the room, confused out of his mind. It all happened so fast that he was unsure if the kids planned that exit or if they were honestly just like that. It burns to not be sure.

He should.

He is their father.

"Well, sit down. We have a date to get through." Jasmine commands, pushing some of her red hair out of her face. She levels an even calculating stare on him, making him feel she is more prepared for a business meeting than anything romantic. "Let's see what the god of time has in store for us."

[niniwritesxo]

‘we’re teaming up’

nam-gyu x fem reader pt.2 —> will you let me hit?

summary:

as a smart kid you used to tutor a lot of troubled kids back in the days, what happens when one of them happens to save your life?

——————————————————————————

The announcement of the third game came with chilling simplicity: “The next game is Mingle, you must find someone and pair up. Those unpaired at the end of the timer will be eliminated’

The room exploded into chaos as players scrambled to secure their survival. You stood at the edge of the room, your mind racing. You had made it through the first two games alone, keeping your head down and avoiding alliances. But now, that strategy was useless. You needed someone.

Nam-gyu leaned against a far wall, watching the chaos unfold with his usual air of disdain. He wasn’t worried. People always gravitated toward him, whether it was out of desperation or because they believed his confident smirk meant he had a plan.

He scanned the room lazily, sizing up potential partners. Then his gaze landed on you.

His stomach twisted.

It had been years, but he recognized you instantly. You were his old tutor, the one who had spent hours trying to drill knowledge into his thick skull. The one who constantly called him out for cutting corners, for cheating, for thinking charm could get him everything he wanted.

He hated you for it.

You had always looked down on him, he thought bitterly, like you were better than him just because you were smarter. Seeing you here, desperate and vulnerable, stirred something ugly inside him.

“217,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. Of course, you’d end up here.

Nam-gyu’s gaze followed you as you moved cautiously through the crowd, trying to find a partner. You were struggling, your wary demeanor making it clear you didn’t trust anyone. The timer was ticking down, and it was obvious you were running out of options.

He should feel satisfied, he thought. Watching you squirm like this, it was almost poetic.

But then he saw two larger players cornering you, their voices low and menacing. You tried to stand your ground, but they weren’t backing off.

Nam-gyu clenched his jaw.

He didn’t owe you anything. If anything, he should be glad to see you fail. But as much as he hated you, the thought of watching you get eliminated like this, scared, cornered. It made him sick.

“Damn it,” he muttered, pushing off the wall and making his way toward you.

The two players looked up as Nam-gyu approached, his expression dark. “Back off,” he said sharply.

One of them sneered. “What’s it to you?”

Nam-gyu smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You really want to waste time on this when the clock’s ticking?”

The two players exchanged glances before backing off, muttering curses under their breath.

You stared at Nam-gyu, stunned. “Why—”

“Don’t,” he snapped, cutting you off. “Don’t make this into something it’s not.”

He grabbed your wrist, pulling you closer. “We’re teaming up,” he said bluntly. “Not because I want to, but because I’m not stupid enough to let someone else grab you first.”

You bristled, your pride warring with your survival instinct. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Good,” he said coldly. “I didn’t want to give it.”

The loudspeaker blared: “One minute remaining.”

You hesitated, your gaze searching his face. For a moment, you thought he might let you go, might walk away and leave you to fend for yourself. But then his grip tightened, and he pulled you toward the center of the room.

When the timer hit zero, you found yourself paired with Nam-gyu.

When the round ended Nam-gyu didn’t bother to look at you as he walked out of the small room, his expression unreadable. But as much as he hated you, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that saving you had been the right choice.

[trans-axolotl]

ID: [A poster created by Sean Saifa Wall and Micah Bazant of a Black parent holding their child. They are dressed in white and almost seem to be glowing, in front of a backdrop of multicolored waves that look like DNA strands. Colorful text reads "Protect Intersex Youth."]

"A Framework for Intersex Justice

Intersex justice is medical justice. Intersex surgeries hurt everyone.

These medical violations bring immediate harm to the child who is subjected to them.

Parents who consent to medically unnecessary surgeries participate in a culture of shame, silence and stigma, perpetuated by doctors, that allows these surgeries to continue. Parents are often left to fend for themselves as they navigate shame and guilt. The issue of parents consenting to these surgeries is especially complex when societies believe that children don’t have individual rights and that parents are always acting in their best interest.

Medical practitioners such as pediatricians, obstetricians, urologists, social workers, and endocrinologists all play a role in upholding an institution that continues to harm children with intersex variations. The practitioners, in turn, are protected by hospitals and state laws that grant them immunity.

This is why intersex justice is important.

Although the framework is evolving, the following is a definition of intersex justice co-created with Dr. Mel Michelle Lewis (they>she), an Associate Professor of Gender/Sexuality in Studio and Humanistic Studies at Maryland Institute College of Art: Intersex justice is a decolonizing framework that affirms the labor of intersex people of color fighting for change across social justice movements. By definition, intersex justice affirms bodily integrity and bodily autonomy as the practice of liberation. Intersex justice is intrinsically tied to justice movements that center race, ability, gender identity & expression, migrant status, and access to sexual & reproductive healthcare. Intersex justice articulates a commitment to these movements as central to its intersectional analysis and praxis. Intersex justice acknowledges the trauma caused by medically unnecessary and nonconsensual cosmetic genital surgeries and addresses the culture of shame, silence and stigma surrounding intersex variations that perpetuate further harm.

The marginalization of intersex people is rooted in colonization and white supremacy. Colonization created a taxonomy of human bodies that privileged typical white male and female bodies, prescribing a gender binary that would ultimately harm atypical black and indigenous bodies. As part of a liberation movement, intersex activists challenge not only the medical establishment, which is often the initial site of harm, but also governments, institutions, legal structures, and sociocultural norms that exclude intersex people. Intersex people should be allowed complete and uninhibited access to obtaining identity documents, exercising their birth and adoption rights, receiving unbiased healthcare, and securing education and employment opportunities that are free from harm and harassment. This framework serves a radical vision where intersex children are protected and survivors of genital cutting are cared for and respected. We owe that to intersex people and we owe that to ourselves.

The implementation of an intersex justice framework should include the following components: 1. Informed consent 2. Reparations 3. Legal protections 4. Accountability 5. Language 6. Children's rights 7. Patient-centered healthcare."

-Intersex Justice Project, founded by Sean Saifa Wall, Lynnell Stephani Long, and Pidgeon Pagonis.

[wbblvx]

──── ୨୧ ────

ꜰᴏʀ ᴍʏ ɢɪʀʟꜱ ᝰ.ᐟ

────

pairing : paige bueckers x singlemom!reader

warnings : none !!

word count : 670

summary : it’s paige bueckers’ last game, the national championship, and as she takes the final shot of her career, you stand in the stands, heart in your throat, watching her give it her all. through all the struggles, she’s been your rock, and now, you get to witness her victory, surrounded by love and the energy of the crowd.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

you always thought watching someone you love do what they were born to do would feel like pride

but this? this was something else entirely

the lights in the arena were almost too bright, the energy in the air crackling like electricity. bodies packed into rows and rows of seats, fans screaming, cameras flashing, music blaring every time the scoreboard shifted. and through it all, your daughter was asleep against your chest, her little ear muff headphones slipping down, a soft fist curled around the collar of your hoodie

you were standing

hands wrapped around the railing, eyes locked on the court, heart somewhere between your ribs and the rafters. this was it. her last game. the national championship. paige bueckers, number five, center stage for the final time

you’d watched her fight her way here. not just on the court. not just with buckets and steals and floor burns. but off the court too. the nights she took care of your daughter so you could study. the mornings she left early just to drop her off at daycare so you could sleep in for once. the way she stepped into your life like she’d always meant to be there

and now she was here. focused. dialed in. locked

but then the clock ticked down, and just before the timeout was called, she looked up. found you. even in a sea of thousands, she always found you

and smiled

it wasn’t big. it wasn’t loud. it was just yours

your daughter stirred in your arms, half-asleep as she mumbled, “ mommy’s winning? ”

you smiled too. not just at the question, but at the way she called her that now. like it was the most natural thing in the world

“ yeah baby ” , you whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “ she’s winning ”

—

the shot went up at 1.6

the buzzer sounded at 0.0

and then it happened

the place erupted. confetti. sirens. cameras flashing in bursts of gold and white and navy blue. her teammates swarmed her, a pile of limbs and laughter and disbelief. but through it all, even while they hoisted her up, paige was scanning the stands

she found you again

and pointed

and that was all it took. you were moving, heart racing, barely able to hold your daughter still as security opened the gate. and then she was running toward you, sneakers slipping, hair soaked, eyes wide and glassy

“ you’re insane ”, you laughed, voice already breaking, “ you really did it ”

“ had to ” , she breathed out, grabbing your daughter first and spinning her in a little half-circle before pulling you in too, forehead resting against yours. “ had to do it for my girls ”

you didn’t say anything right away

just let yourself exist there

in her arms

in the noise

in the moment you’d never forget

and somewhere behind you, your daughter yelled into the chaos

“ we knew you’d win!!!! ”

—

[citrusdarling7]

The Bloodline

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

description- as a highly trained sister of the Bene Gesserit, you were prepared to do your part in carrying on the selective genetic material of this generation. however, a change of plans are made, and you are told that you must secure the bloodline of the na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, the dangerous young heir to Geidi Prime

warnings- unprotected intercourse, p-in-v sex, fingering (f! receiving,) sort of knife-play, blood, violence via gladiator fighting (but not too descriptive,) BG propaganda, slightly inaccurate Dune technology, feyd-rautha has black cum (credit to @valeskafics for that one<3)

word count- 1,857

a/n- wow, it's been a while. haven't published anything on this site in like over a year I think, but I hope at least someone will enjoy this sick little piece I wrote instead of doing my homework :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was never supposed to be him.

You were supposed to be paired with the heir of Caladan, Paul Atriedes, and you had been told this since your first day of training. Yet, the Atreides' had all been killed on Arrakis at the hands of the Harkonnens, and your Reverend Mother decided that the duty of continuing another selective bloodline would fall upon you. The na-Baron Feyd-Rautha may have been the result of 90 generations of predetermined genetic material, but that didn’t make him any less psychotic. Nor any less intriguing.

The bright sun of Geidi Prime was high today, and the air was sticky with humidity. Cheers erupted from the crowds as a young Harkonnen warrior gutted a slave in the pit below, and you found yourself growing bored of the spectacle. One of the ladies to your right let out a shriek at the gruesome scene, drawing your attention.

“How is one supposed to stomach this brutality for an entire day?” She exasperated. 

“It is tradition for the Harkonnens’, Lady Clarissa. They value strength, and what better way to prove it than in the gladiator pits?” Your Bene Gesserit training consisted of much time studying the histories, and you pride yourself on your knowledge of the cultures of all the Great Houses. Lady Clarissa grimaced before adjusting her hairpiece and fixing her mouth back to a pout.

“It is deplorable, but I suppose you would have no issue with that sort of thing,” she remarked. You paid her no attention; the Bene Gesserit were not well liked by many nobles, Lady Clarissa’s family included. Her discontent mattered little to you, although you felt yourself wishing you had at least one other Sister here with you. 

Unfortunately, your Reverend Mother had sent you on this mission hastily, claiming that the upcoming celebration of the na-Baron’s birthday would be the perfect time for you to carry out the task. Coming from a Great House yourself, it was not abnormal for you to attend such an event, but the marks of the Sisterhood followed you wherever you went. Although controlling your mind was usually an easy task, you found yourself slightly anxious after waiting hours to finally get a glimpse of your target.

It felt as if years had passed before the announcer finally declared that the young na-Baron would now display his bravo in a fight against three slaves, supposedly the last remaining members of the Atreides household. You perked up in your seat, pulling the binoculars close to your eyes as the crowd bellowed. 

Feyd-Rautha strided out to the center of the pit and bowed before the Baron, giving you a good look at the young heir. He was pale, so pale that the sun seemed to reflect off of his skin. The black fighting suit he wore drew your attention to his muscled torso, his sculpted abs peeking out from beneath the hem. His face was stern, although a smile stretched from his lips as one of the slaves began to stagger towards him. As you watched him slice open the other man’s throat, you found your heartbeat begin to race. You were intrigued. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The interior of the Harkonnen palace was grim, as you had expected it to be. You walked through the fortress slowly, counting your steps as a way to calm your breathing. After the spectacle in the gladiator pits, you were immeasurably more nervous than you had been when arriving on the planet. Feyd Rautha was brutal, vicious, and likely insane. Yet, you could not deny your attraction towards him. It was stupid, immature, and dangerous. You were a trained sister of the Bene Gesserit, and this was your duty. To conceive a child with the na-Baron, and ensure the bloodline is secure.

You were not supposed to be on this side of the palace, yet no one questioned as you walked by. Your gown swept across the floor as you moved and your hairpiece tickled your bare shoulders. The na-Baron’s chambers were ahead to your left, and you noted the absence of guards, as well as the faint sound of approaching footsteps. A rather ghastly portrait of a late Baroness served as an excuse for your attention, although you struggled to prevent your eyes from wandering to the dark form approaching. 

“Well, what do we have here? Are you lost, little pet?” His voice was deep and raspy, and you found your mind faltering once again. 

“ My Lord na-Baron.” You restrained from bowing your head as you turned from the painting, staring directly into the man’s eyes as you sweetened your gaze. “I believe I may have wandered too far from the guest’s hall. Mayhaps I have wandered into a trap?”

“You should not be here.” He stepped closer, and began to stride around you in a circular fashion, like that of a predator stalking its prey. He watches you with hunger in his eyes, imagining what pleasure it would bring him to tear the dress from your body and take you right against the wall.

The Reverend Mother had been right; sexually vulnerable.

“Perhaps, I am in exactly the right place. I wished to congratulate you on your triumphs in the fighting today, it was truly a spectacle to remember.” You approached him swiftly, and the smell of steel and musk filled your nose. “I have heard many tales of your strength and bravery, but none measure up to what I have witnessed today. You will be a fearsome Baron, just like your uncle.” At the mention of the Baron, Feyd’s eyes lit up and his hand snapped around your neck. 

“So you must be the gift my uncle has promised. He must have bought you Off-World, for I have never seen a Harkonnen slave as beautiful as you. I will enjoy ravishing you.” 

Your heart beat sky-rocketed as he tightened his grip on your throat, making you lose control.

“Release me,” you commanded with the Voice, out of instinct rather than fear. The words fall from your lips before you can stop them, and Feyd obeys. The grin on his face falters as you stumble backwards, realizing that you may have just destroyed generations of planning, with only two words. Thankfully, Feyd does not seem discouraged.

“Ah, not a gift then, but I will have fun with you all the same, witch.” With a sudden movement, he pushed you against the wall and captured your lips in a harsh kiss. Feyd’s hips pressed hard against yours as he claimed your mouth with his tongue. His scent was overpowering in a way that made your head spin and seemed to subdue your thoughts. Your thighs clenched in anticipation as the na-Baron grabbed at your neck once more.

“Tell me, witch, what do they say of me in your homeworld? Are all you little witches so eager to please?” Feyd’s threatening gaze made your knees falter as you looked up to him with a soft smile.

“Not all of us, my lord. But I must admit, I have found myself rather allured by the temptations of your beautiful planet.” His hand dropped from your throat, and vanished to his side before reappearing a split-second later, with a curved blade in his grip. The tip of the knife rested against your skin, the cold steel making you shiver. Feyd swiped his other palm across the wall, causing it to unlock in a strange clicking pattern. His eyes burning into yours, he led you backwards into what you presumed to be his bedquarters, the blade at your neck guiding you in the way he wanted. 

Your knees hit the edge of the bed, and you allowed yourself to be pressed onto it. His blade was thrown aside, allowing his hands to roughly tear at your gown, ripping the bodice straight in half. You let out a gasp as you felt cold fingers slip between your undergarments.

“What a brazen little slut you are, showing up outside my chambers so wet and wanting.” He thrust two digits inside of you, finally satiating the ache that had been present from the moment you laid eyes on him in the arena. He fucked you roughly with his fingers, setting an excruciating pace that had you whimpering and writhing against the bed in mere minutes. 

“Please, my lord. I want you inside of me,” you begged, reaching up to run your hand along his torso, stopping when you felt the bulge of his manhood straining against the confines of his pants. 

Feyd eagerly obliged, tugging off his pants and stroking his thick cock rapidly to prepare himself for you. He lined his tip up with your entrance and wasted no more time teasing you. The na-Baron thrusted into you, hard, making you clench at the bedsheets and thrash your head to the side in an attempt to stifle your moans.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight, little witch,” he grunted, grabbing at your wrists and pinning them above your head. His dark eyes burned into yours as you tried your very best to keep quiet, not wanting to alert any servant that might have been lurking outside. He met your lips with his once again, in a ravenous kiss that had your teeth clashing against his. Feyd bit down on your bottom lip, drawing blood that he hastily licked up before moving on to attack your neck. 

You were so full with his cock inside of you, and you had never been more aroused in your entire life. The metallic smell of blood seemed to radiate from the man, and his fingers left delicious bruises wherever they ventured. You felt your toes begin to curl and your stomach tighten; the agonizing pace at which he was fucking you had you close to the edge of bliss once again. He could feel you begin to clench around him, your walls gripping his cock like a vice.

“Is the little witch going to cum for me? Go ahead, you’re mine now,” He finally released your hands, and you immediately gripped at his muscled shoulders, nails digging into his skin. “My uncle may not have intended you for me, but fate has. No one else will ever have you.” You nodded desperately, not caring about the words coming from his mouth but rather the immense pleasure he was giving you. 

Finally, a wave of bliss overtook your body, making you shake and scream as Feyd continued to roughly fuck you. You lost control of your mind once again, seeing stars as you came.

Feyd was close behind you, and the aftershocks of your orgasm had him rutting his hips against yours, letting out a deep groan as he emptied his seed into you. 

It took you a few moments to regain your senses, to finally realize that you had successfully completed your mission. His black seed leaked out of you, a sickly sight that made your face flush. He had left his distinctive Harkonnen mark on you, and the bloodline was secure. It was never supposed to be him, but you were very pleased with the way things had worked out.

[pucksandpower]

Use Your Words

Charles Leclerc x Reader x Lando Norris

Summary: in which your boyfriends show you that there’s no shame in using your safeword

Warnings: 18+ content and use of a safeword

Based on @uramakimochi’s request

Note: the fact that I literally manifested the Charlando podium while writing this? I wish team orders didn’t play such a big role during the race but I will take the results and not look a gift horse in the mouth 🫶

Charles and Lando are both rummaging through their suitcases, looking for neckties as you wait on the bed. After their double podium finish earlier today, the three of you decided to have a little private celebration back at the hotel.

“Found one!” Charles holds up a red silk tie with a mischievous grin.

Lando chuckles, pulling out a striped tie in shades of blue. “This’ll do the trick.”

You bite your lip in anticipation as they approach you with the neckties. Charles slips behind you, gently gathering your wrists and using the tie to secure them together. You shiver at his warm breath on your neck as he works.

“Too tight?” He whispers. You shake your head slightly, unable to hide your smile.

Lando kneels in front of you, looping his tie into a makeshift blindfold and carefully covering your eyes. “Can you see anything?”

“No,” you murmur, plunged into comforting darkness. Your senses sharpen, focused on the sounds of their movements and the occasional brush of fingers against your skin.

“Perfect,” Lando’s voice is low. You feel the bed shift as he rises. “We’re going to take such good care of you tonight, princess.”

A thrill runs through you. The three of you agreed on a safeword when you first started seeing each other, a sure fire way to get any driver’s attention and slow things down. But tonight you have zero intention of using it.

Charles’ lips find the sensitive spot just below your ear. “You looked so gorgeous standing below the podium, vibrating with pride. I could hardly keep my hands off you.”

You let out a shaky breath as his mouth blazes a trail down the side of your neck. “Ch-Charles ...”

“Shhh,” he soothes, nipping at your pulse point. “No need for words yet.”

Lando’s hands glide over your thighs, pushing them gently apart. You automatically part your lips in a soft gasp. Fingertips tease along your inner thighs, drawing maddeningly close before retreating.

“So responsive,” Lando marvels. You can’t see him but you know he’s grinning. “I haven’t even properly touched you yet and you’re already squirming.”

Your cheeks flush hot. You want to retort but all that comes out is a quiet whine as Lando’s fingers finally make contact. He chuckles darkly at your reaction.

Charles slips one hand beneath the loose hem of your top, palm skating over your ribs and up to cup your breast. You arch into his touch with a small moan. His thumb brushes over your nipple, adding delicious friction through the thin fabric of your bra.

“So beautiful,” he rumbles in approval. “The way your body sings for us ...”

His mouth finds yours, tongue instantly seeking entrance that you grant with a whimper. The kiss is deep and hungry, leaving you dizzy and panting when he finally releases your lips.

Lando’s long fingers have been steadily working between your thighs, stroking and teasing your increasingly slick folds. You buck your hips without meaning to, desperate for more substantial contact.

“Please,” you finally manage to beg. Your voice is barely above a whisper.

“Patience, darling,” Lando tuts, though his own breathing is growing ragged. He hooks one of your legs over his shoulder for better access, leaning in to lick a broad stripe right through your heated center.

You cry out sharply, tugging instinctively at the tie binding your wrists. The heat of Lando’s mouth and the soft lap of his tongue are glorious torment. Charles smothers your keening noises with another searing kiss.

Lando groans his appreciation against your tender flesh, lapping and sucking insistently. “You taste so fucking good,” he growls. “Been dreaming about this all day ...”

Arousal is throbbing through you like a second heartbeat. Charles’ lips abandon yours to trail down your throat, his other hand cupping your breast and rolling the nipple between his fingertips. Every nerve is exquisitely alive, buzzing beneath their skilled touches.

Lando’s tongue flicks over your throbbing clit and your back arches off the bed. Your loud mewl is half pleasure, half plea. He grants you no reprieve, mouth working enthusiastically to take you apart piece by piece. Charles captures your lips again, stealing the cries from your throat.

You’re quickly soaring higher, spiraling toward that glorious precipice. Their murmured praises and scorching caresses urge you ever onward. But just when you think you’re about to tumble over the edge, Lando’s mouth abandons you entirely.

You nearly sob at the loss, hips frantically chasing that delicious friction. Charles soothes you with gentler kisses, murmuring praise against your swollen lips. “So good for us, mon ange. You’re doing beautifully.”

You dimly feel the bed shift again, and then there’s a warm mouth trailing kisses up your inner thigh. Charles, blessing you with more delicious stimulation. But just when you think he’s going to grant you relief, Lando’s seeking lips find your other thigh.

“No, no please,” you beg between panting breaths. If they keep denying you for much longer, you’ll go mad. There’s a soft tsking noise and you feel Lando’s fingers combing through your hair. Charles continues lavishing attention on your shuddering flesh.

“Use your words,” Lando murmurs huskily. “What do you need, love?”

You swallow hard, mouth suddenly dry. “Please just … I need ...”

“Tell us, mon amour,” Charles prompts, lips brushing your hipbone.

There’s really only one way to circumvent this maddening tease. You suck in a breath, steadying yourself.

“Box,” you force out. “Box box box.”

All movement instantly stills. Your heart is thundering a rapid staccato, waiting with bated breath for them to respond to the agreed safeword. You bite your lip, instantly second guessing your decision.

Fingers stroke along your cheeks, Lando’s touch infinitely gentle. “Sweetheart,” his normally playful voice is low and soothing, all traces of teasing vanished. “Are you hurting? Do you need to stop?”

You shake your head minutely, abruptly blinking back unexpected tears of frustration behind the blindfold. “No no, I just … please can I just ...”

“Shh, it’s alright,” Lando hushes you. His lips lightly brush your forehead. “Take a deep breath, pretty girl.”

You obey, inhaling shakily through your nose. Charles presses a reassuring kiss to your cheek.

“Talk to us,” he urges softly. “Don’t be afraid to voice your needs.”

“I w-want ...” you stammer, toes curling. “I need you both so badly, please. No more teasing. I just want you to make me come.”

There’s a pause, and for a heart-stopping moment you fear you’ve ruined the mood entirely. But then Lando lets out a low groan of relief.

“Look at you using your words so prettily,” he praises. Charles chuckles softly beside you, nuzzling against your jaw. You feel the bed shift again as Lando moves into position.

“We would never deny you, love,” he murmurs. “Not when you ask so sweetly.”

His long fingers slide home, curling and plunging into your dripping heat. You cry out at the sudden stretch and glorious pressure. Charles lays claim to your mouth again, greedily swallowing your moans.

Lando’s palm fits perfectly against your bundle of nerves, grinding in time with the thrust of his fingers. The spark of pleasure races through you, building and spiraling rapidly higher. Distantly you hear your own broken whimpers bleeding into Charles’ mouth.

“That’s it, ma belle,” he growls, lips trailing over your cheeks and throat. “Let us hear how good we make you feel.”

Lando curls his fingers, nailing that sublime spot inside you over and over until you begin to shake apart. Your cries rise to a sobbing keen, back arched taut as a bowstring.

“Come for us, darling.” Lando’s command is heated, fingers sinking deep. “Let go.”

You shatter with a high wail, rapture cascading through you in scorching waves. Lando strokes you through it, coaxing every last spasm of bliss with his touch until you finally slump boneless against the mattress.

Strong arms envelop you, tucking you securely against dual heartbeats. Gentle fingers trace your features, brushing away the dampness beneath your blindfold. You’re surrounded with warmth and adoration, coddled by their praise.

“Belle fille,” Charles murmurs, lips finding your temple.

“So perfect,” Lando echoes, stroking back sweat-dampened strands of hair. “Our good girl ...”

You sigh in utter contentment, letting their cherished words soak into your very bones. No matter what heights you reach, they’ll always be there to catch you in their arms.

[ivystoryweaver]

Your Father’s Rival!Leto Atreides x Pregnant!Wife!Reader

Read the prequel (but this can be read alone) - Your Father's Rival!Leto Atreides x F!virgin!reader

BEAUTIFUL ART for this story

Word count: 3.9k

NSFW MDNI. AU in the sense that there's no mention of Lady Jessica or Paul Atreides. Not beta'd, angst, smut, p in v, creampie, fingering, choking-ish, angry sex, tiny bit of thigh fucking, nipple play, breeding kink, pregnant sex, Leto is possessive af

✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧

Your husband’s heated breath falls warm and heavy on your neck. Broad hips push into you from behind, his cock sheathed in your slick, wet channel.

Hands grasping at you possessively, he cups your breast and spreads his other palm protectively over your growing abdomen. He groans, rutting into you faster, tracing the rounded shape of you.

The way he’s stretching you, filling you, sends your back arching, breathy moans steadily growing louder as he thrusts faster and deeper.

A delicious pressure builds deep in your center. Leto's thick fingers inch lower, strumming at your sensitive folds until your gasps of pleasure escalate into cries of ecstasy.

Your tired, swollen body seizes in pleasure, liquifying in his arms as he loses himself inside you, groaning on your ear.

As you come down together, his nose brushes along your jawline. He holds you against his chest, urging you to give into your exhaustion and rest.

✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧

The next day, you are summoned to an official meeting. Your husband sits in the center of a large, stone conference table, with his advisors flanking him on the right and left. He greets you with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes, motioning for you to stand while everyone else takes an oddly intimidating seat.

"We have some questions for you, Duchess," Thufir Hawat, the head of Leto's security begins after clearing his throat.

"Questions?" Your gaze flies to Leto's, whose eyes flicker away. He strokes his beard pensively.

"Indeed," Hawat continues. "Some communications between you and your father have...raised concerns."

You shake your head. "What communications?" Attempting to catch your husband's gaze, to read anything about what is going on, your throat goes dry. He won't even look at you.

"Leto?"

"The Duke would like you to enlighten us as the nature of some of these messages."

Smoothing your hand over your abdomen instinctively, you bristle. "What messages? I haven't been in contact with my father."

The gentlemen at the table with your husband exchange glances, readjusting uncomfortably in their seats.

"We have a number of transmissions using your personal code," Hawat went on. "But you're claiming you haven't spoken to your father?"

"Leto, what is this?" You approach your husband boldly, placing both hands on the table top, which prompts Duncan Idaho, Leto's swordmaster, to his feet.

"Let's keep this formal," Hawat instructs, motioning for you to step back.

Your throat tightens, pulse racing as Duncan stares you down coldly.

He's...defending Leto. From you.

"For fuck's sake, stand down," Leto orders, his tone clipped. You aren't certain, at first, if he is more frustrated with you or with Duncan.

His eyes, dark and unreadable, land on you. "When did you last contact your father?"

Is this really happening? Leto is actually interrogating you.

"To give him our happy news," you desperately utter, both hands wrapped around your rounded belly. "Weeks and weeks ago. And nothing since, I swear it."

"Yes, we have that message here," Thufir Hawat confirms as Duncan takes his seat. "It reads, 'We can rejoice. It is done. I am with child.'" His eyes narrow pensively. "What did you mean by, 'it is done'?"

"Exactly what it sounds like," you scoff, glancing between Hawat and your husband in disbelief. "My father knew Leto and I wanted a child and I let him know."

"'It is done' sounds more like a task: a chore, or an assignment," Hawat argues, "not like 'happy news'. Was this your goal all along? Marriage to House Atreides, to the Duke of Caladan, to carry an Atreides heir, to gain a foothold here? To report back to your father?"

"How dare you?" You hiss, eyes brimming with tears. "I have not been communicating with my father."

"I have the messages here - "

"They weren't sent by me," you insist. "I haven't spoken to him."

"But this is your personal code. Who else would have sent them?"

You glare at your accuser defiantly. "Now you're asking the right questions."

"Give us the room." The voice of your husband, smooth and steady, sends his trusted council scurrying as he stands. Fingertips pressing against the tabletop, he sighs, realizing Duncan hasn't left his side.

He pats the taller man on the shoulder and nods for him to leave. With a final glare your way, Duncan complies.

As soon as you are alone with your husband, you cover your mouth with one hand to try to stifle any more of an emotional display than you've already given. But it's too late since tears are streaking down your cheeks.

"Forgive me," Leto says quietly, fidgeting with his ducal ring before easing around the table to stand in front of you.

Wiping your eyes, you try to control the waver of your voice. "Did you really have your high council question me like a suspect or a criminal?"

"A criminal?" One of Leto's dark eyebrows arches wryly. "Duncan would not have behaved himself if you were a criminal."

"Nice to know," you spat. "You couldn't have asked me yourself? Was that really necessary? It was humiliating. And frightening."

"I apologize, truly, my love," Leto softly insists. "The communications were brought to my attention, and yes, I could have asked you myself, but a brief, formal questioning quickly showed everyone that there is nothing to hide."

"I do have nothing to hide," you insist. "I've spoken with my father maybe three times since I arrived here."

"There are at least a dozen messages transmitted with your code," Leto reiterates. "Talking with you is the first step in what will need to be an investigation."

Moving into your personal space, he peers deeply into your eyes and gathers your hands in his. "If you say you didn't send the messages, I believe you, but you're right. We need to find out who did."

"I swear to you Leto," you tell him, meeting his gaze openly. "I'm not spying for my father. Or sending him anything."

He nods, but the wrinkle on his forehead deepens. "But...he asked you to. Didn't he?"

You swallow hard, wondering how your marriage could possibly benefit, or even survive your father's initial directive: to seduce the Duke and provide him with an heir. But spying was never part of it.

"I just thought...after what I admitted to you," Leto went on, "How I wanted you for myself, to take you away from you father - I thought maybe he'd shared a similar idea. Hatched a plot, for you to come here and undermine my position."

You could lie now. Deny everything, swear utter loyalty to Leto - let him believe you were an innocent, doe eyed virgin, who had fallen for his trap. He likely preferred to think of you that way. Most men would.

But the thing of it was - you truly loved him. And after he'd confessed to you, you found yourself unsure of how to live with anything other than honesty with him, when he was directly questioning you.

"It was the same for me, at first," you slowly admit. "My father encouraged me to...show interest in you. To entice you to warm to me."

Leto's jaw clenches, his face stiff as his starched uniform. "So I am a part of your father's game. His play for power."

"That's what he wanted when he arrived here, but after that gala, and especially after the first time in the garden, I knew it would be the easiest thing in the world to fall in love with you."

Reaching for his cheek, you rake your fingers through his beard. "But he never asked me to spy on you, I swear it. Even if he did, I would've said no because I truly love you." Squeezing your joined hand, you kiss his knuckles. "My sweet husband. I could never hurt you." Your gaze locks with his. "I haven't sent any new messages."

His jaw shifts pensively as he wrestles with doubt. "Why didn't you tell me the truth before, when I confessed to you? You made me feel like I did this wretched thing, but you did the same thing to me. Why didn't you admit it?"

"Because you would've sent me away," you emphatically insist. "And it was too late because I was already in love with you. I couldn't let my father's stupid rivalry poison any more of my life, or take away the one good thing in my life."

"But you've admitted that you were sent here for a reason, and now these messages we've found... Thufir won't let this go easily. You should've told me."

"We both played a rival's game, Leto, but we won it," you say with conviction, pushing his hand over your swollen abdomen. "You, most of all, because you have my devotion and my loyalty. I am Atreides. This child is Atreides."

He nods, his eyes softening with understanding, but you see doubt lingering there. "You are your father's daughter. Nothing can change that. You love him. You love your home."

"This is my home," you utter wholeheartedly as his forehead drops to yours. "You are my family."

"I am unsure I deserve to be," Leto murmurs against your cheek. "You are not mistaken about the rivalry with your father and myself. And both of us used you like a game piece."

"But you didn't," you refute, locking your arms behind his neck. "You told me the truth before we married. I could have walked away. I wanted to stay. It's true, I wanted to please my father, because that's the way I've had to survive. Caladan has given me a way out of that life. I would never betray it. Especially not now."

Leto embraces you and you melt against the warmth of his chest, grateful, praying he believes you.

Only, a moment later, Thufir Hawat appears.

"Are you satisfied?" Leto asks the older man, who nods once, and retreats.

Tears burn your eyes as you back away, horrified. "You were still interrogating me? A-are they all listening?"

"I promised them you would be questioned fairly and thoroughly, to clear your name," Leto explains, "So that they would be sure to see you the way I see you."

"Those words were meant for your ears, Leto," you cry, shaking your head, wrapping your arms around yourself.

Duncan appears and Leto grants another infuriatingly calm nod. "Escort my wife to her chambers. Guard her with your life."

Your face crumples, heart dropping to your stomach as you're ushered away to what feels like house arrest. You adore Leto, but if he wants to exert the control your father is famous for, you're going to put up a fight.

✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧

Your husband comes to your chambers after lunch, dismissing your staff with a wave of his hand.

You glare at him before bowing deeply. "Your Grace."

He smirks. "Duchess. I trust you are comfortable."

"As comfortable as any caged bird ever was, I suppose."

"You are angry. I understand."

"How perceptive, Your Grace. It is no wonder the Emperor favors you so."

"Are you finished?" He snaps, dark eyes flashing. "You can be angry with me if you wish, but there is protocol to be followed here. The evidence against you carries the penalty of death for treason. Do you understand that?"

"I understand that something is terribly wrong here. Someone has accessed or stolen my personal code and transmitted messages in my name - messages I know nothing about. And instead of protecting me, you're interrogating me."

"I came here to check on you and the baby," he says sincerely.

"Your heir and his mother are healthy and functioning properly in their assigned roles, I assure you."

Leto’s nostrils flare, his lips pulling into a thin line. “You’ll want to remember who your allies are, my lady. You’re a stranger in a foreign land.”

With a glare as cold as ice, he traces the shape of your cheek with his fingertips.

You flinch almost imperceptibly, swallowing thickly as you realize your own husband has all but threatened you.

✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧

The ice in your veins seeps into the halls of Castle Caladan, sending servants scurrying with whispers of intrigue and espionage.

You expect your husband to leave you in your rooms, locked away and guarded by Duncan, but he joins you later, after you've washed and readied yourself for bed.

Without a moment's hesitation, and acting as if you are in his chambers, where you normally both sleep, he undresses, washes up and climbs into bed with you.

Your body tenses as his arm slips around your waist, his breath ghosting the back of your neck as he presses his chest against your back.

"Sleep well, my Duchess," he murmurs, palm spreading protectively over your abdomen.

Jaw clenching in fury, you shrug him off. "Perhaps Your Grace has failed to realize these are my chambers, and not your own."

"All of this castle belongs to me, as do you, my lady," he breathes lowly on your neck, teeth nipping at your flesh as he slips his fingers under your silky gown, running both hands over your thighs and stomach possessively.

"I am not your property," you hiss, squirming in his hold. Your backside rubs against his cock, alerting you the the fact that he is completely naked, hard and leaking already.

He groans, rutting against the round curve of your ass, hands tracing over your rounded shape to cup your heavy, swollen breasts. A breathy moan rushes out of you as he teases your tender nipples, pausing for a moment to tug your gown over your head and toss it aside.

His tongue swirls in your ear as one hand slides down to the wet, weeping core of you. You almost hate your body for responding to him so eagerly.

"Remember the first time I slipped my finger inside you?" He goads, stroking your clit with a featherlight tease. "You were so tight I could barely get my knuckle into you."

He plunges two fingers inside, swirling them into the spongy softness he feels there.

Despite your worry and anger over the day's events, your hips find a familiar rhythm rocking against your husbands dextrous digits, coaxing you toward mind-shattering release.

"I couldn't believe you let me touch you like that," he grunts, working his hand in and out of you faster. "I thought you were so innocent. So sweet." His thumb finds your clit and your back arches as you moan out his name.

He cinches you closer, back against his bare chest, one hand working you open, furiously fingerfucking you while using his hold on your breast to pinch your nipple punishingly. He keeps you there, stroke after stroke, for several quiet moments, rubbing his cock against you hungrily.

"But it was all an act," he growls, hand moving so fast, your body starts to vibrate with an all-encompassing bliss.

"You were on your father's errand," he spits, rutting into you, his cock slipping between your spread thighs. He moans as your slick drips down and coats him as he thrusts faster and faster. "And I've been nothing but a fool."

With that admission, he yanks his fingers away from you, leaving you teetering on the edge of a life changing orgasm. You cry out at the loss of stimulation, clawing through a haze of lust to determine why he's rolled away from you completely.

"L-Leto," you pant, blindly reaching for him, emboldened, rather than deterred as he shrugs you off.

Taking a moment to catch your breath, you push yourself up into a sitting position so you can peer down at him. Still panting, you trace the shape of his muscled arm, if only to see if he'll flinch and withdraw from your touch.

He does not.

So you trace over the lines and planes of his beautiful body, fingers dancing temptingly along his inner thigh until you wrap around his length and tug.

He swallows hard, desperate for your touch, but his eyes flash with the betrayal from the secret you've kept.

"You know," you begin, climbing over him, which takes some doing with your distended belly, "I think I've been in love with you my whole life."

With arms braced on either side of his head, you plant your knees beside his hips, lowering your dripping cunt to tease the tip of his cock. With a shift of your hips, forward and back, you let him glide through your folds, lowering yourself a little more with each pass.

"I wanted you since I was old enough to want a man," you tell him, rubbing your folds up and down his full length, gasping as he tilts his hips to meet your thrusts.

"You're the first man - the only man I ever fantasized about, when I touched myself, alone at night."

He groans as you line yourself up with his fat tip and slowly sink down seating yourself on him, taking him deep inside you. "Once I was a proper age, I would try to find the most discreet ways to ask my father when we could visit Caladan again. Just for a glimpse of you. So I could see the thickness of your beard, hear the deep cadence of your voice. So I could renew my fantasies of ever being with a man like you."

Leto's hands grip your hips, pushing and pulling you, moving you faster. He's panting now, sweat beading on his noble brow, licking his lips at the sight of your breasts, ripe and round, bouncing deliciously as you ride him.

"It's a nice story," he grounds out, thumbs digging into your hip bones bruisingly as his hips meet your thrusts. "I think you flatter me too much, Duchess."

"It's true," you growl, boldly wrapping one hand around his throat. Although you've never initiated a dominating move like this with your husband, something in you wants to make him snap - so he'll stop you or claim you or something. So he'll listen.

You squeeze gently. "Every word I've ever spoken to you has been the truth." Your grip tightens and you hear a sound from him that makes your pussy quiver and clamp down on him. "I'm yours. This body is yours. My heart is yours. My devotion, my life..." Your voice fades away, replaced by a long, breathy moan of ecstasy as you come, cunt fluttering and gripping and soaking his cock as he spurts inside you, erupting and filling you with his warmth.

You collapse against him, exhausted as the day's tension drains out of you. Leto rolls you gently to the side, allowing your heavy limbs to rest against the soft bed.

Curled up beside you as you lay on your back, he strokes the side of your breast, the swell of your tummy, the round shape of your hip, up and back again.

After a moment he feels your breath stutter. Reaching for your face, he finds your cheek wet.

"Will you try to send me away?" You brokenly whisper. "After the baby is born? Will you try to take him from me?"

"Oh my love," he breathes, easing over you gently, hand cupping your jaw as he gazes down at you. "As if I could tear you away from our child. I don't think any force in this universe could."

You tearfully smile as he presses a kiss to your cheek. "My pride is wounded by your secret plot. But you are my wife. I could not bear to be without you."

"Because of our child?" You question, your voice sounding small.

"Because you are mine."

✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧

The tension of what you admitted to your husband - that you initially followed your father's directive to seduce him - slowly fades away over the next few days. And any...frustrations Leto seems to feel are released privately as he bites and presses and fucks them into your body each night.

Quiet whispers reveal lingering doubts and fears, confessed between lovers in the still of the night. His favorite thing to hear you say when he's inside you has become, "I am Atreides, this child is Atreides."

Leto decides to throw a ball for your father again. It's been about a year since the last one and he declares that it could be a tradition of sorts - a sign of peace between your two worlds. So instead of secrets and plots, with each of you seducing the other, he intends to show the galaxy that your love and your union have truly united bitter rivals at long last.

The planning of the gala will hopefully bring to light who is sending the messages, or at least if communications are still being sent to your father. Leto begs your indulgence as he temporarily has you guarded.

You argue that your people - your new people, here on Caladan won't trust you if they see you guarded like a spy - if they see Leto's doubt of you. But he makes sure that it is made clear that threats have been made against his Duchess and she is well protected.

You agree to the terms, only until your father arrives for the gala. The concessions you make win back the council's trust, for now, at least. You are given a new security code to transmit personal messages. Leto sends a formal invitation from House Atreides to invite your father's household to the gala.

Leto asks for your indulgence in one final detail. He wishes to oversee the construction of the gown you will wear. It will bear the deep greens and blacks of House Atreides. Your gown will be fitted to show off the swell of your abdomen and ample breasts, accented by a handcrafted House Atreides hawk emblem necklace.

"You will be the jewel of all Caladan - their true Duchess," he declares. You find you have no objection to his claiming of you in this way. You love your father, but you're weary of the rivalry with Caladan and House Atreides, and your heart is now and forever with Leto, and your unborn son.

The night of the gala arrives and you are dressed, perfumed and adorned like an Empress. Your gown is a stunning statement of Leto's ownership over you. Your pregnant body is a banner of his accomplishment in winning his rival's most cherished prize.

He almost finds himself relieved that he is not a young man - that he has a modicum of control over his urges, and can resist, at least for a little while, the desire to tear the dress from your ripe body and claim you in a dark corridor before the gala even begins.

You feel proud and so in love with Leto. You truly have adored him your entire life, and once you were of age, your feelings for him began to deepen and mature into more than a childish crush. It was no chore at all to fall in love with him.

Tonight there will be no doubt in your father's mind that you are Atreides.

Your husband will be proud. Your mission is accomplished. And it cost you nothing. Because you have the love and family your father used against you your entire life.

part 3? completely up to you, i could go either way, kinda like the symmetry of this ending

✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧

Leto Masterlist | Main Masterlist

[littlest-w01f]

Colonel

Caleb x reader

CALEB MASTERLIST

LADS MASTERLIST

Summary: Being called by the Colonel in the farspace fleet was never a good thing, perhaps for people who weren't you

Cw: Jealous Caleb, gravity evol use for thrusts, Smut 18+ MDNI

As soon as the holo-projector flickered to life, you felt your stomach drop. The stern face of Fleet Colonel Caleb looked back at you. "Lieutenant y/n," The voice was crisp, carrying an undercurrent of disapproval. "Report to my office immediately."

You gulped, your heart racing as you stood up straight, trying to compose yourself despite the sudden rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins, he had never sounded like that with you, you could recognise something wrong instantly. You nodded briskly, "Yes, sir! Right away!" With that, you quickly made your way out of the briefing room, your boots clicking against the polished floor as you hurried towards the elevators.

As the doors slid open, you stepped inside, pressing the button for the upper levels. Your mind raced with possibilities - what could you have done wrong this time? Had your recent performance been less than stellar? Was there something more serious, like a breach of protocol or security?

The elevator lurched to a stop, and you took a deep breath before stepping out into the dimly lit corridor. You followed the signs to the commander's office, your steps echoing off the cold metal walls.

Reaching the door marked as his, you paused for a moment, smoothing down your uniform before knocking twice. The response was immediate, the door slid open, revealing Caleb standing imposingly in the threshold, he was fully decked out in his uniform, even the coat shrugged on as if he was just about to leave.

"Enter," He commanded gruffly, his piercing gaze scrutinizing you as you stepped inside, anything but friendly. The door hissed shut behind you, leaving you alone with him in the dimly lit space. A faint scent of leather hung in the air, mingling with the metallic tang of the command center beyond.

Caleb gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk, his hand slicing through the air with military precision. "Sit," He ordered, his tone brooking no argument. As you complied, your fingers nervously fidgeted with the hem of your uniform, awaiting the commander's verdict with bated breath.

Caleb circled around to perch on the edge of his desk, arms crossed over his broad chest, his intense gaze boring into yours, "Your record has always been spotless, Lieutenant… But appearances can be deceiving." His voice dropped to a low rumble, sending shivers down your spine as his evol tilted your chin up, your face feeling weightless forcing you to meet his piercing gaze. "I suggest you tell me the truth, now, before we delve deeper into this matter..."

Anyone else would've been pissing their pants terrified at the way he was looking at you, but you held his gaze, confused, "The truth about what, Colonel?"

Caleb's lips curled into a smirk, his evol still gently tilting your chin upwards, keeping your eyes locked onto his. "Don't play coy with me, Lieutenant," His voice was hard. "We both know exactly what I'm referring to. Tell me, is the rumor true? Were you out on a... Date..." He almost snarled the word, "With a higher officier?"

You blinked, then again, and once more, "Wait that's what-"

Caleb cut you off, glaring, "So it is true. You know, Lieutenant, you aren't allowed to be romantically envolved with any one of higher statures."

Caleb's expression darkened further, his jaw clenching. "That's a direct violation of regulations, Lieutenant. Do you understand the severity of your actions?"

"Caleb you can't put on your Colonel voice because you're... Jealous." You deduced, feeling his emotions through your evol, emotion manipulation, something you kept under wraps from being conidered unorthodox, illegal even in some places. "Wait, why are you jealous."

Caleb's eyes flashed with anger. "Do not read my emotions." He spat the words, leaning in closer until his face was mere inches from yours. "Jealous over you? Don't flatter yourself, Lieutenant."

Despite his harsh words, you could sense the lie, the jealousy seeping through his defenses, his pulse quickening as he loomed over you, the heat radiating off his body. Your own heartbeat accelerated in response.

"I think you do feel something, Caleb," You whispered, your voice barely audible over the hum of the ship's systems. A cheeky smile formed on your lips. "Admit it, you're attracted to me." The admission hung heavy in the air between you, charged with tension and unspoken desire.

Caleb's grip on the edge of the desk tightened, his knuckles turning white. "Attraction has nothing to do with this," He growled, but his eyes betrayed him, darting down to your lips before snapping back up to meet your gaze. "You're a lieutenant, and I'm your Colonel. And how can I know you're not manipulating me?"

"Hey, I only did it first when you were mean to me." You raised you hands in defence, you had made him take you from the N109 zone, twisting his emotions into feeling he needed you, to free yourself from the clutches of the prison. Then to make him a little nicer to you. "And I needed this."

Caleb's face contorted, a mix of frustration and something darker flashing across his features. "You manipulated me," He accused, his voice low and dangerous. "Used your... abilities on me without my consent."

He reached out, grabbing your wrist in a vice-like grip, pulling you to your feet. "You think you can toy with me, use me for your own amusement?" His other hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing roughly over your lower lip. "I am your superior, and you will show the proper respect."

"Calm down..." You whispered, trying to hold onto his anger to lessen it, but there was no anger, only red hot jealousy and desire, even admiration, "You confuse me. You're act mad I hurt you, but you don't feel it."

Caleb's grip on your wrist relaxed slightly, though his hand remained splayed across your chest, fingers splaying wide enough to cover your heart. "I'm not confused," He murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "I know exactly how I feel about you, Lieutenant."

His other hand trailed down your side, coming to rest on your hip, fingers digging into the fabric of your uniform. "You may have manipulated me initially, but now... Now I crave the sensation of losing control with you." His voice dropped to a husky whisper. "I want to fuck you so hard, you forget everyone else."

Caleb's confession sent a jolt of excitement through you, your body responding instinctively to his raw, carnal desire. You could feel the heat emanating from his large frame, the hardness of his arousal pressing insistently against your thigh.

Without breaking eye contact, Caleb held you with his evol, pinning you against the wall. His hips ground against yours, the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine. "Tell me to stop, make me stop." He growled, nipping at your earlobe. "Order me to end this, and I will. But know that every second I keep going, it's because you want me just as badly."

You felt his desire like it was your own, you could reduce it to nothing, turn him into a shell without emotions, you could make him stop but you didn't want you. You groaned as you felt the hardness of his aroual press against you through your uniforms and increased his arousal ten fold. "No. Don't stop."

With a guttural moan, Caleb claimed your mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue delving deep to conquer every inch. His hands roamed your curves, gripping and kneading, as if trying to brand you as his.

Breaking the kiss, he trailed his lips down your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin. "Fuck, you taste divine," He rasped, his voice thick with lust. "I need to be inside you, now."

Caleb's fingers deftly worked at the fastenings of your uniform, tearing away fabric to expose your breasts to his hungry gaze. He palmed the soft mounds, thumbs circling the hardened nipples, drawing whimpers of pleasure from your throat.

"Come on..." Caleb's strong hands gripped your hips, guiding you to sit astride his lap as he reclined back in his chair. The sudden intimacy left you breathless, his hard cock pressing insistently against your core through the layers of clothing separating you.

In response, you rocked your hips against his, the friction sending electric shocks through your body. As you rode his lap, Caleb's hands slid beneath your skirt, his calloused palms gliding over the smooth skin of your thighs. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your lingrie, tugging them down to reveal your dripping core.

"Fuck, you're soaked," He groaned, his thumbs parting your slick folds to tease your clit. "So ready for me, aren't you, little liar?"

With a swift motion, Caleb yanked his pants open, freeing his throbbing cock. He positioned himself at your entrance, the broad head nudging insistently against your opening. "Last chance to stop this, y/n. Once I'm inside you, there's no turning back."

"Last change for who to stop this? I want it was much as you." You whispered, hands underneath the shirt of his uniform to feel the muscles of his abdomen, rising to his chest. kissing the side of his neck.

A low, animalistic growl rumbled in Caleb's chest as he captured your lips in another searing kiss. Breaking away, he gazed intensely into your eyes, his own burning with primal hunger. "Then let me take you, Lieutenant," He commanded, voice rough with desire.

With a powerful thrust, Caleb sheathed himself fully inside you, stretching and filling you completely. You cried out, the sensation overwhelming yet exquisite. He set a relentless pace, grabbing your hips to make you go up and down, each stroke driving deeper, harder, his cock pulsing within your clenching walls.

Leaning forward, Caleb buried his face in the crook of your neck, teeth grazing your skin as he pounded into you. "Mine," He snarled possessively.

Each powerful thrust sent shockwaves through your joined bodies, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the office. Caleb's grip on your hips tightened, fingers digging into your flesh as he moved you with reckless abandon.

Caleb's hands roamed your back, nails scraping against your flesh as he pulled you down to meet his savage thrusts. Leaning forward, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, teeth grazing your tender skin as he bit back a roar of ecstasy. "Too... Slow." He groaned, his hand held your hip, humming with energy as he used his evol to grab your hips, moving your body faster.

The enhanced strength of Caleb's evol allowed him to move you with brutal efficiency, his hips pistoning upward to meet each downward plunge. Your chests pressed together with the force of his movements, the hard points of your nipples dragging against his chest.

Panting heavily, Caleb's lips found yours again, the kiss ferocious and demanding. His tongue dominated your mouth, claiming you thoroughly as his cock plundered your depths. The relentless rhythm built towards a crescendo, each stroke driving you closer to the edge.

Caleb's dominance consumed you entirely, his body a force of nature ravaging yours with unrelenting intensity. His cock throbbed inside you, hitting that sweet spot with every thrust down, sending sparks of pleasure igniting throughout your being.

The pressure coiled tighter and tighter in your core until finally, with a scream muffled by Caleb's devouring kiss, you shattered. Your inner walls clenched around him, rippling with waves of intense orgasmic bliss.

As your climax crashed over you, Caleb continued his relentless assault, prolonging your peak. The feeling of your walls fluttering around his cock pushed him to the brink.

With a final, powerful thrust, Caleb hilted himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he found his release. Thick ropes of his seed painted your insides, marking you as his. A guttural moan tore from his throat, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm.

In the aftermath, Caleb held you close, both of you panting and slick with sweat. He peppered your face with soft kisses, a stark contrast to the brutal passion of moments before. "That was... Incredible," He murmured, nuzzling into your hair. "You're amazing, y/n."

Your eyes fluttered shut as a chuckle bubbled up your throat, "So you were jealous..."

Caleb's arms tightened around you, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. "Guilty as charged," He admitted, his lips brushing against your temple. "Seeing you with someone else, knowing they might touch you, taste you... It drove me insane with jealousy."

Caleb's confession hung heavy in the air between you, tinged with vulnerability despite the raw passion of your coupling. His thumb traced idle patterns on your lower back as he held you close, savouring the afterglow.

"I never wanted anyone else but you, y/n," He murmured, his voice low and sincere. "From the moment we met, you've had this effect on me, outside your evol. It scared me, the depth of my feelings. That's why I lashed out earlier - I couldn't bear the thought of losing you to someone else when I've never truly had you."

"It wasn't a date, Colonel," You smiled, resting your forehead against his, "It was just a formal dinner. No need to get your emotions up, I don't even like him."

Relief washed over Caleb's features at your words, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "A formal dinner, huh?" He repeated, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Well, I suppose I owe you an apology then, for jumping to conclusions like that."

"The uncertainty killed me. The idea of you all dolled up, sharing a meal with someone else... It made me realize how deeply I care for you." He leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, sensual kiss - a promise and an apology all at once.

His thumbs gently caressed your cheekbones as he held your gaze. "Tell me you feel it too, this connection between us. That I'm not alone in wanting this, wanting us." The vulnerability in his voice was palpable, the usually confident Colonel laid bare before you, hoping and praying for reciprocation.

"I feel it too, Caleb," You whispered, your voice thick with feeling. "This bond between us, it's unlike anything I've ever known. When I'm with you, I feel alive in a way I never have before. Like I can take on the world and win."

Your fingers threaded through his hair, holding him close as you sealed your declaration with a kiss. It started soft and sweet, but quickly deepened into something more passionate, pouring all of your pent-up emotions into the intimate contact.

[sunny44]

Pole position and broken wrist

Pairing: Max Verstappen x GF!reader

Warnings: broken wrist, medical center, medications etc…

Summary: Where Y/n broke her wrist on qualifying day.

It was one of those days when everything seemed to be in the right place. I woke up with Y/n by my side, her hair spread out on the pillow and a serene smile on her face. The sun was shining outside, and I felt a positive energy in the air. Today was qualifying day, and confidence was high. The car was fast, and the team's work had been impeccable throughout the weekend.

Y/n and I had a special ritual on race Saturdays. After breakfast in the motorhome, we would go to the paddock together. She was known for her vibrant personality and, of course, for her ability to get into unusual situations. I still remember when she spilled a tray of drinks on the team boss during her first visit to the paddock. But those moments, no matter how chaotic, only made me love her more.

We arrived at the paddock, and Y/n quickly started interacting with the mechanics and engineers, drawing smiles and laughter. It was impossible not to be infected by her light and carefree spirit. While she mingled, I focused on the qualifying session ahead. I knew she would be there supporting me, as always.

The qualifying session started, and the car was perfect. I managed to top the timesheet right in Q1, and that pace continued until the end. When I crossed the finish line in Q3, with pole position secured, my heart raced with excitement. I knew Y/n would be waiting for me in the garage, ready to congratulate me with that smile that made all the problems in the world seem insignificant.

But when I returned to the garage, something was off. I didn't see Y/n anywhere. Usually, she would be jumping with joy, ready to give me a celebratory kiss. Instead, I was greeted by worried looks from the team members. Before I could ask what was going on, one of the mechanics, Dave, approached me, a concerned expression on his face.

"Max, there’s been an accident... with Y/n," he said, his voice low, almost a whisper.

My heart froze. "What happened?" I asked, trying to stay calm.

"She was walking through the paddock, and you know how she is... Always bumping into things. Apparently, she tripped and fell. She tried to grab onto a metal structure but ended up slipping and falling hard. She broke her wrist."

For a moment, I couldn't breathe. The image of Y/n, hurt, flooded my mind, and a sense of panic started to grow inside me. "Where is she now?" I asked, already moving towards the garage exit.

"They took her to the medical center here at the circuit. She was in a lot of pain, but they said she's going to be okay. They just need to immobilize her wrist and maybe take her for more detailed exams."

Without wasting any more time, I ran towards the medical center. Everything around me seemed like a blur. The people, the sounds, even the noise of the engines... It all disappeared. The only thing that mattered was getting to Y/n.

When I entered the clinic, I found her sitting on a bed, with an expression of pain mixed with frustration. Her arm was already in a temporary splint, and the doctor was beside her, explaining what they would need to do next.

"Max!" Y/n exclaimed when she saw me, her eyes shining with a mix of surprise and relief.

"Y/n, what happened?" I asked, approaching her, feeling a wave of relief seeing her conscious and talking, even though she was visibly uncomfortable.

She gave an embarrassed smile, something she always did when she was in trouble. "I’m a complete klutz, Max... I tripped over one of those damn toolboxes and, trying to balance myself, ended up falling. And, well... you know the rest."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair and sitting next to her.

"Is it hurting a lot?"

"Yes, it hurts like hell."

"Do you have any idea how much you scared me?" I asked, taking her free hand and intertwining our fingers.

"I'm so sorry... It wasn’t my intention to ruin your pole day," she replied, with a pained little laugh.

"The only thing that matters to me right now is that you're okay," I said, kissing her forehead gently. "And, look, we’re still going to celebrate this pole. We’ll just do it at your pace, okay?"

She smiled again, this time more confidently, and nodded. "Sounds like a good plan."

The doctors entered and started discussing the next steps, mentioning the need to take her to a hospital outside the circuit for a more detailed X-ray and possibly to cast her wrist. The idea of her having to spend the rest of the race weekend with a cast worried me, but the relief of knowing it was "just" a broken wrist calmed me down.

After a few hours, we left the hospital with her wrist properly casted. I insisted we return to the motorhome and spend the rest of the day there, away from any potential dangers in the paddock. She hesitated a bit but eventually agreed.

We settled on the sofa in the motorhome, with Y/n lying next to me, her arm carefully propped up on a pillow. The TV was on, showing a replay of the qualifying session, but I hardly paid attention. My focus was on her, making sure she was comfortable and cared for.

"Max, you don’t have to stay here with me the whole time," she said softly, looking at me with a shy smile. "You should enjoy the rest of the day with the team, celebrate the pole."

"I'm exactly where I need to be," I replied, running my fingers through her hair. "Besides, who’s going to take care of you if I'm not around? What if you trip over the carpet now?"

She laughed, though she winced in pain right after. "I really am fucking clumsy, huh?"

"You are, but you’re my clumsy, and I love you for it," I murmured, leaning in to kiss her.

...

The next day, I woke up to the soft sound of Y/n's breathing beside me. Her arm, now casted and propped up on pillows, was a constant reminder of how clumsy she could be. But seeing her there, sleeping peacefully, I knew that even with a broken wrist, she would still make her day and mine unforgettable.

When Y/n finally woke up, the lazy smile she gave me warmed me inside.

"Good morning, champ." she murmured, trying to stretch without moving her arm too much.

"Good morning, clumsy." I replied, giving her a kiss on the forehead. "Ready for another day of adventures?"

"More than ready," she said, with a sparkle in her eyes.

"Is it hurting a lot?"

"It’s starting to hurt more now, I think the painkillers are wearing off."

"Well, you stay there while I get dressed and grab your meds." I said, getting up.

"I can get them." She tried to get up but I stopped her.

"No, no. You stay there, safe and sound, I’ll get the meds." She agreed and lay down.

After I went to the bathroom and got dressed, I got her meds and handed them to her. She got up afterward, went to the bathroom, and I helped her get dressed since moving her arm was straining her wrist and hurting.

"Ready?" I asked, putting a Red Bull bucket hat on her head and giving her a peck, making her smile.

"More than ready." She said, and we left the motorhome together. "You know, I was thinking… since I’m going to have this cast on for a while, I’ll make it more interesting."

"Interesting how?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Autographs!" she exclaimed, as if it were the most brilliant idea in the world. "I’ll ask some of the guys to sign it for me. It’ll be a nice memory of this whole thing."

I laughed, shaking my head. "You really are full of ideas, aren’t you?"

"You knew who you were getting involved with when you asked me out," she replied, winking at me and holding my hand.

Y/n was visibly excited, and even with her arm in a cast, she radiated a joy that was contagious.

Lando was her first target. As soon as she saw him, she ran over to him, carefully balancing the cast on her arm.

"Lando! You have to be the first to sign!" Lando, always the jokester, gave a mischievous smile and took the Sharpie Y/n was holding with her free hand.

"So, do you want me to write 'Caution: very clumsy' or something like that?" He asked, as he signed the cast, and Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t hold back her laughter.

"Just sign it, Norris. And make it look nice."

"Alright, bossy." He handed the pen back to her, and after chatting a bit and wishing her well, we went after the next victim.

Charles was talking to some members of his team, but Y/n wasn’t intimidated.

"Charles! I need your autograph, please." she said, waving the cast in his direction, and he smiled warmly, taking the pen.

"I saw pictures of you online with a cast but didn’t know what had happened. Are you okay?"

"I’m better, yeah. I tripped over a toolbox... Long story," she replied, laughing at herself.

"Well, I hope you get better soon," he said, carefully signing the cast with his name and adding a small heart next to it. "And try to stay away from toolboxes for a while."

Carlos was next, and Y/n knew he wouldn’t miss the chance to tease her. When she approached him, he raised an eyebrow and gave her a knowing look.

"Max, you really have to keep an eye on her," Carlos said, laughing. "She’s a danger to herself."

"Tell me about it," I replied, smiling as Carlos signed the cast.

"Y/n, are you collecting accidents now?"

"Let's just say I'm adding a little drama to the weekend," she replied, extending her arm.

"There you go," he said after adding 55 to the end of his signature. "I hope you get better soon."

"Thank you Chili." He gave her a side hug and started walking towards the Ferrari garage.

"Try not to break anything else," he yelled and went inside.

Alex was walking past us when Y/n spotted him. "Alex! Please sign here," she said, and he promptly complied.

He made a neat signature, adding a small trophy to the side. "I hope this brings you luck to recover quickly," he said.

"Thank you, and bring Lily to the next race." He nodded and left.

Oscar was the last one before we returned to the Red Bull garage. He was focused, but when he saw Y/n approaching with that smile that said “you have no choice”, he smiled too.

“Oscar, you’re next on the list,” she said, shaking her cast.

“Honored to be a part of this collection,” he joked as he signed it, drawing a little kangaroo next to his name.

Finally, we made it back to the Red Bull garage, where Y/n handed me the pen.

“Now it’s your turn.” She said smiling.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment,” I said, taking the pen and thinking about what to write.

I decided on something simple but meaningful. I signed my name, and next to it I wrote, “I love you, my clumsy.”

She looked at the cast and then back at me, her eyes shining with emotion.

“It’s perfect, it’s definitely my favorite signature,” she said, smiling.

The day went on, and soon it was time for the race. Y/n was by my side until the last second before I got in the car. Even with her injured arm, she was there, smiling, supporting me, and reminding me of what really matters. mattered.

When I finally got into the car and got ready for the race, I knew that no matter what happened on the track, I had something very special waiting for me at the end of it all. The race was important, sure, but Y/n… she was the reason I gave my best, on and off the track.

Bonus scene!

Yourusername Instagram stories

“Before the accident X after the accident”

Ps: I’m okay guys, just a broken wrist

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Our little biscuit

Pairing: Juju Watkins x Wife!Reader

Fandom: Women’s College Basketball

Summary: Juju and you embrace each stage of pregnancy with love, care, courtside moments, and puppy training—awaiting baby Monica’s arrival.

A/N: inspired by @shikaizer and @yailtsv

🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @unknowgirlypop , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paige05bby , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani ,

If you told me a few years ago I’d be married to Juju Watkins, pregnant, and courtside at every one of her games with our Frenchie at my feet like he’s head of security—I would’ve laughed you out the room.

But now? That’s just Tuesday.

Month 1 – The Test and the Start of Forever

It was a random Wednesday. I’d been feeling weird for days—nausea, sleepy as hell, randomly crying over an oatmeal commercial. I finally took a test, expecting nothing.

Two pink lines.

Two.

I sat on the edge of the tub in complete silence, heart racing. Deuce, our spoiled little Frenchie, sat in front of me like a furry, judgmental therapist.

He tilted his head like he already knew. Like, “So… when were you gonna tell me I’m getting demoted?”

When Juju came home from practice, sweaty in her USC hoodie, her smile dropped the moment she saw my face.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” she asked, crossing the living room in two steps.

I held out the test with shaky fingers.

She stared at it. Then me. Then back at it.

Then she smiled. Slow. Bright. The kind that made my knees weak even now.

“Yo… yo. Are we having a baby right now?”

I nodded, lip trembling. “Yeah.”

She swept me into her arms, spinning me around while Deuce barked like he wanted in on the excitement. “Oh my God! Babe—we’re having a baby?! Like for real?!”

She put a hand on my stomach, eyes soft. “You’re already the best mom.”

“And you’re gonna be annoying as hell,” I teased, tears in my eyes.

“You love that about me,” she grinned.

Month 2 – The Name Before the Name

We hadn’t even hit the second trimester when Juju came in one night, holding a teddy bear and a tiny baby blanket she found at a boutique downtown.

“I already know what I’m calling her,” she said confidently.

I raised a brow. “Her?”

“She’s giving girl. I can feel it.”

“And what’s this name, oh wise one?”

She sat beside me and kissed my belly. “Biscuit.”

I blinked. “Biscuit.”

“Yup. Biscuits are warm, soft, and perfect. Just like our baby.”

I rolled my eyes. “You do know she’s not gonna let you call her that past age two, right?”

“She’ll deal.”

And so it began. Biscuit this. Biscuit that. “How’s Biscuit today?” “Did Biscuit enjoy that mac and cheese?” “Tell Biscuit I dropped 25 tonight just for her.”

Even Deuce started perking up when he heard it.

Month 3 – Game Time and VIP Treatment

“You got the best seat in the house,” Juju said, helping me into my courtside spot at Galen Center.

She wasn’t lying.

The seat had a whole orthopedic cushion on it. Custom-made armrests. A mini fan for hot flashes. Deuce had his own little mat underneath with his name embroidered on it like he was a VIP.

“I swear this dog lives better than most people,” I mumbled.

“He’s our first baby,” she smirked.

She kissed me before tip-off. “Don’t let Biscuit get too excited when I dunk on shorty tonight.”

“She’s kicking already. That’s your fault.”

I never missed a game. Not one. Juju made sure of that. No matter what.

And after every win, she ran over to kiss my belly like it was a trophy.

Month 5 – Deuce’s Big Promotion

The bump was getting real now. Juju had cleared out the guest room and was halfway through painting the nursery when she decided Deuce needed “formal training.”

She bought a realistic baby doll online. I thought it was a joke… until she started swaddling it.

“Deuce,” she said seriously, crouching down beside him. “This is Monica. Be gentle, okay?”

“You’re… you’re naming the doll already?” I asked, sipping my water.

She stood up and kissed my cheek. “I already know her name. Monica Jazlyn Watkins. Feels right, don’t it?”

It did.

Our little girl. Monica Jazlyn. Already loved beyond measure.

“Also, we’re not giving up ‘Biscuit.’ That’s forever.”

“I figured.”

Deuce sniffed the doll’s foot, looked unimpressed, then plopped down with a huff.

“He’s gonna need some adjusting,” I murmured.

“He’s got time,” Juju said. “We’ll all figure it out together.”

Month 6 – Baby First, Everything Else Second

People always said pregnancy is a lonely journey. But I never felt that once.

Juju made damn sure of it.

She cleared her whole schedule around every appointment, even when it meant skipping media interviews or rescheduling training sessions.

“She comes first,” she told her coach once on speakerphone. “My wife and my baby are the only priority.”

She rubbed my feet every night, no complaints. Brought home smoothies. Talked to my belly like it answered her back.

One night, I found her asleep on the floor of the nursery, paintbrush in hand, “Monica” sketched out in big letters across the wall.

I covered her with a blanket, kissed her forehead.

“You’re gonna be such a good mom,” I whispered.

Month 7 – Showered in Love

“You didn’t have to go all out,” I said, overwhelmed, standing in the middle of the baby shower she planned in secret.

It was on a rooftop. Decked out in soft pinks, warm neutrals, and gold accents. There was a onesie station. USC-themed cupcakes. A flower wall that said “Baby Biscuit” in cursive.

“I wanted to,” Juju smiled, coming up behind me and resting a hand on my bump. “You deserve this.”

She kissed my temple and stepped up to the mic.

“I’ve had trophies. Medals. Banners. But nothing compares to what we’re about to bring into this world. Monica Jazlyn… I love you more than every point I’ve ever scored. And to my wife? You’re my home. Always.”

Yeah… I cried. I wasn’t alone.

Month 8 – Bigger Belly, Bigger Love

Walking was hard. Sleeping was harder. I cried because I dropped a cookie once. Deuce followed me like I was his mission in life.

But Juju never made me feel like a burden.

She carried the groceries, picked out baby clothes, rubbed shea butter on my bump every night.

“Biscuit’s kicking,” I said one night.

Juju leaned down and whispered, “Go easy on your mama. She’s doing all the work.”

“She’s gonna be a baller, huh?” I smiled.

“Already got a better jump shot than me.”

Month 9 – The Wait and the Weight

“I feel like a planet,” I muttered, flopping onto the couch.

Juju, fully dressed for a press shoot, dropped her phone and came over. “You feel like the center of my universe. So technically… yeah.”

“You’re so corny.”

“You love it.”

Deuce rested his head on my thigh, paw protectively on my knee.

“She’s gonna be here soon,” I whispered.

“Yeah,” Juju said, brushing my hair back. “And when she is, everything changes.”

“But we’re ready, right?”

“We’ve been ready.”

Birth Day – The World Stops

Contractions hit like a truck. We were in the car within ten minutes, Juju driving like the road owed her money, one hand on my knee the whole time.

Hours blurred together. Screams. Squeezes. Nurses. Then—

Then came the cry.

The loudest, strongest little cry I’d ever heard.

And just like that… she was here.

Monica Jazlyn Watkins. 7 lbs, 3 oz. Head full of curls. Already pouting like her mama.

“She’s perfect,” Juju whispered, pressing her forehead to mine. “You did it, baby.”

“She’s real,” I breathed, tears soaking my cheeks. “Our little Biscuit.”

They laid her on my chest, and Juju broke. Silent tears. Shaking shoulders.

“I’ve never loved anything more,” she said.

After – Home, Whole, Happy

We brought Monica home wrapped in a blanket with “Baby Biscuit” stitched into the corner. Deuce sniffed her gently, gave her one soft lick, and laid down right beside her bassinet like he’d been waiting his whole life to protect her.

Nights were long. Feedings were constant. Sleep was rare.

But Juju?

She was everything.

“I got the bottle,” she’d say at 3 a.m.

“You sleep, I’ll hold her.”

“Biscuit wants her dance show? Say less.”

She sang off-key lullabies, danced around the nursery like a fool, and cried every time Monica smiled in her direction.

At her first USC game, Monica wore tiny headphones and a jersey that said “Mommy’s #1 Fan.” Juju dropped 28 that night and pointed to us in the stands with pride in her eyes.

After, she kissed us both and whispered, “I play for y’all now.”

—

Now – A Forever Kind of Love

Every day with her feels like magic.

Watching Juju rock Monica to sleep while Deuce lays guard beside the crib, I realize something:

This? This is the best team Juju’s ever been on.

And I’m just grateful to be her co-captain.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[noirscript]

last call

pairing: Yandere!Artist x Reader

description: Adrien’s obsession isn’t just art—it’s a countdown to something far worse. As your friend disappears, the horrifying truth dawns: you’re already his next masterpiece.

warning/s: YANDERE | Stalking | Obsession | Implied Kidnapping | Implied Murder | Psychological Horror | Anxiety

note: i'd really appreciate your thoughts about this one (￣～￣；) also, i recently reached 700+ followers. uh, thank you for reading my works. ^^

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Commission | Tip Jar

The quiet hum of the call center is a familiar backdrop to your life now. The steady ringing of phones, the soft murmurs of your colleagues in their cubicles. You keep your head down, focus on your calls, your sweet, submissive voice filling the air. It’s what you do. It’s all you do. For the pay, the benefits, the security.

But there are days—like today—when you can’t ignore the gnawing unease crawling up your spine.

You glance over at Jake, your friend, who’s working on the other side of the room. He’s always been there, your rock, always nearby, always with a comforting word. The late-night shifts aren’t so bad when you’re together. But tonight, something feels off.

You can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.

When the last call ends, you decide to confide in him. You wait until the others are off their calls, the noise of the office muted by the hour. The two of you slip into a quiet corner, and your voice shakes when you speak.

"Jake," you whisper, "I think I’m being stalked."

He looks at you, his expression shifting from confusion to concern. "What do you mean? Stalked by who?"

You hesitate, then reach into your bag, pulling out a piece of paper—one of the sketches you found in your locker that morning. The sight of it still makes your heart race. A detailed drawing of you, sitting alone at your desk. A figure standing in the background, a shadowed presence just out of focus.

"Look," you say, voice trembling. "It’s not just this one. Every day there’s a new drawing, and the worst part? There's always someone standing near me. Always. But not anyone I know. Someone I don’t recognize."

Jake takes the sketch, his brows furrowed as he studies it. His face pales as he glances up at you, then back at the drawing.

"That’s… That’s creepy," he mutters, his voice barely audible. "Who’s doing this? Do you have any idea?"

You swallow, the knot in your throat growing tighter. "I don’t know. But it’s like he’s always watching me. I don’t know how he gets into my locker, but every day, there’s another sketch waiting for me."

You stop, your fingers gripping the edge of your seat as you watch him. He shifts uncomfortably, glancing around as if making sure no one else is paying attention.

"Something doesn’t feel right," you continue, voice barely above a whisper. "He’s watching me. Following me. I don’t know what to do anymore."

Jake sighs deeply, setting the sketch back down on the table. His eyes are tired, haunted. "Maybe you should talk to Leo about this," he suggests. "He might be able to help. Leo always knows what to do."

You nod, trying to ignore the creeping dread in your chest. But it doesn’t help. Nothing helps. And that night, things get worse.

You get home after another long shift, the familiar creak of the door echoing in the silence. Your breath catches in your throat when you notice something odd—Jake’s stuff is gone. The apartment feels emptier, the silence too thick.

You text him, but there’s no reply. That’s odd. Jake always answers. You pace around the apartment, staring at his empty room, the unmade bed, the absence of his things.

He’s never left without saying anything before.

You try to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach, but it grows as the days pass. His shifts no longer line up with yours. You come home to find his things still gone, and he doesn’t pick up his phone anymore.

You can't help but feel a gnawing sense of dread settling deep within you.

And then it happens.

You receive a package. A canvas, no return address. You open it cautiously, your heart pounding in your chest. The moment you see the painting, the room goes cold. It’s of Jake. His face twisted in a grotesque, disturbing way. His body painted with smears of red. His mouth open in a silent scream. It’s too realistic. Too graphic to be dismissed. Too vivid to be ignored.

A chill runs down your spine. What is this? The red… it’s too much. The detail is too real.

You don’t know what to do with it. You can't even look at it for too long, so you shove it into your drawer, hoping it’ll disappear, even though you know it never will.

The next night, you try to shake it off. But when Leo asks how things are going, you can’t hide the terror any longer. You tell him everything—the drawings, Jake’s disappearance, the painting. He listens quietly, his face unreadable, but you can see the concern in his eyes.

“I don’t know, Leo,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I don’t know what to do anymore. I can’t sleep. I can’t breathe. Every day is worse.”

Leo rubs his temples, his mind clearly racing. “You know the rules, right? We can’t flag him, not without proof. You’re stuck playing into his game.”

You nod, biting your lip. You’re fully aware of that. In this line of work, you play the role you're given. You pretend to be someone else, to be their darling. The job is lucrative, but it comes with a cost. You have to pretend, even when it feels like the walls are closing in.

Leo leans forward, his eyes softening with concern. “Do you suspect anyone, though? Anyone specific?”

The question catches you off guard. You hesitate, then—against your better judgment—you answer, your voice barely a whisper.

“Adrien,” you say, your heart pounding in your chest. "Adrien is the one who’s been sending the sketches. He called in through Yandere Hotline, said he was a wealthy artist. He told me his family owns a conglomerate, but he didn’t want to follow in his father’s footsteps. He wanted to be a real artist. But he had an art block. That’s when he found me. He said I inspired him."

You pause, taking a shaky breath, the weight of the past few weeks pressing down on you. "He said I was his muse. He wanted to create again, and I was the key. I played into it, Leo. I thought it was harmless at first. He just wanted me to talk to him, to make him feel heard, to give him some inspiration. But it… it got worse."

Leo watches you closely, his face unreadable. He doesn’t interrupt, but you see the flicker of recognition in his eyes.

“Then he started sending me the sketches. At first, it was just one, a drawing of me sitting at my desk. But after that… he started showing up more in the pictures. Always standing near me. And it wasn’t just the drawings. He started talking about how he couldn’t wait to draw me ‘up close.’ Like I was his next masterpiece. He said it so casually, Leo. Like it was something that was just going to happen.”

Your voice cracks as you recall the worst part. "And now Jake’s gone. His things disappeared. His shifts don’t match mine anymore. And I just… I don’t know what to do. I’m trapped, Leo. He’s everywhere. I feel him watching me."

Leo’s face tightens, a flicker of something darker passing through his expression. But then, his voice softens, as though he's trying to calm you. “You’re right. You’re stuck playing his game. You’ve got no choice but to follow it. We all do.”

But as the conversation lingers, there’s a tension in the air that neither of you can deny.

That night, as you walk back to your locker, your phone buzzes.

Unknown number.

You hesitate, the pit in your stomach widening. But something—something deep inside of you—makes you answer.

“Hello?”

The voice on the other end makes your blood run cold.

“You’re still pretending, sweetheart,” he says softly. "But I see you. I know you."

Your pulse quickens. It’s him. Adrien.

His voice slides through the phone like silk, sending a chill through your body.

“I’ve been watching,” he continues, his tone too calm, too familiar. “You think I don’t notice? The way you look at the others. The way you pretend they’re all you need.”

You try to steady your breath, your hands shaking. “I… I don’t know what you mean.”

“I’ve been waiting for this moment,” he whispers, his voice darkening. “Waiting for you to see me, to understand.”

You feel your skin crawl as he continues. “But it’s too late for that now. You’re already mine. And I’ll make sure you understand what it means.”

You shiver, every fiber of your being screaming to run.

But you can’t.

Your breath catches as you arrive at your locker. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up as you open it. And there they are—the sketches.

One of you and Leo.

The other... of you. Eyes wide with terror. A hand, not yours, gripping your jaw. Forcing you to look at yourself.

The sketch is too detailed, too real. You can’t breathe as you stare at it, the raw fear in your eyes captured in every stroke. The grip on your jaw, the force of it—the terror written all over your face.

You slam the locker shut, your heart racing. The call ends with Adrien’s final, chilling words.

“Run. I love it when you run.”

The phone drops from your hands, and you turn around—there’s no one there. But the air feels thick, the walls closing in on you. It’s not just the job anymore. It’s your life. It’s him. And there’s no way out.

You can feel his eyes on you even now, through the phone, through the sketches, through the very air you breathe. And no matter how many times you try to convince yourself that this is just a game, a twisted fantasy he’s playing—you know, deep in your gut, that it’s real. Every step you take, every breath you take, Adrien is right behind you, watching, waiting.

And the worst part? You’re trapped. You always have been.

You just didn’t know it until now.

noirscript © 2025

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