#chapters: desired disobedience

[littlefireball]

ᴊʜ|[ᴍ]|ᴏᴠᴇʀꜱᴛɪᴍᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

Perv! (?) Boyfriend Jongho x Girlfriend reader

Warning: Smut|Overstimulation|Using of sex toy|No plot|Short chapter|Oral|Fingering|Multiple orgasm|Dom & sub|Roping|Hair pulling|Choking|Unprotected sex|Post Orgasm Torture

Summary: A disobedient pet needs punishment, right? 

Word count: 4.5K

As soon as you swung the door open, a wave of clarity washed over you. You hadn't anticipated finding your boyfriend, Jongho, lounging on the couch, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that felt predatory.

Didn't he mention he'd be out late tonight? Why was he here?

"Where have you been?" His voice was low, laced with a hint of irritation.

"I…" Your mind raced, but the words refused to form.

He advanced toward you, each step heavy and deliberate, quickening your heartbeat. His tall figure loomed over you, blocking the light and enveloping you in shadow.

"What did I tell you? You can't come home later than 11 o'clock... You can't drink without my consent... Just smell yourself, you're soaked in alcohol..." His fingers grazed your cheek, a touch that felt soft yet carried an undercurrent of danger.

"Jong—" Before you could finish, he pinched your face, silencing your protest. The pressure made you wince slightly.

"You know what happens when you defy my orders," he murmured close to your ear, his fingers trailing down to your earlobe.

"Yes, sir..."

"Undress." 

—---

"Baby girl…you look so beautiful…" he murmured, leaning closer to plant a gentle kiss on your forehead. Jongho's gaze was filled with a mixture of desire and tenderness as his fingers gently traced the contours of your chest. His eyes roamed across your body, taking in every inch of your bound and vulnerable form. 

A low, possessive growl escaped from the depth of his throat. "You're all mine.. my beautiful, beautiful girl…who needs a punishment huh?"

"Me…me…I'm sorry…"

"You're sorry, huh?" 

"I…"

"You should've been sorry when you thought about defying me."

"I'm sorry…sir…"

"Looks like I need to remind you of the consequences…" He dropped a kiss on your bare stomach, licking it a bit. "Tell me why you go out that late?"

"Be…because my friend asked me…"

"Oh?Your friends are more important than me huh?" 

"No…sir…they are not…"

"But you're willing to deny my order for them huh?" You shook your head, your breathing shaking because of nervousness. "I thought…you…you'd be late"

"So that's an excuse for you to go out at night and drink that much?" 

"Sorry, sir. I won't do it next time." 

A shaking moan left your lips as his fingers trailed down your stomach, pausing just above your pelvic area before he slowly moved lower. He leaned closer to your face, his nose brushing against your neck as he inhaled your scent. His other hand came up to caress your cheek, his thumb tracing along your bottom lip.

"I could do whatever I wanted to you, you know that?" he said. "You're completely vulnerable right now, completely helpless, completely mine..." 

"Gosh…" 

"And you're loving it, aren't you?" he whispered, his mouth moving down to your neck, trailing hot kisses along your skin. "You love giving me control, letting me do whatever I want to you...don't you, baby girl?"

"Ye…yes…" Your head was spinning from how hot you were feeling, words were getting harder to form, but you managed to speak through your heavy panting. 

Jongho, upon hearing you confirm his suspicions, let out a low chuckle. He nipped playfully at your earlobe, his lips trailing down to your neck, where he bit down gently on the sensitive skin.  Shaking moans and gasps left your lips as he sucked on your hardened nipple, his tongue swirling around it. Your whole body jerked instinctively up to his body, each bite and lick adding to the heat within your core. 

"That's right, baby girl, you're mine.. and I'm going to make you feel so, so good and know the consequences of being naughty." 

A chill swept over you the moment he stepped away. The eye mask obscured your vision completely, leaving you in darkness. All you had to depend on was your sense of hearing, and you could make out the sound of him searching through a drawer.

The sound of him rummaging through the drawer seemed to go on forever, each passing second adding to your anticipation. You shifted slightly on the bed, the binds digging into your skin as you fidgeted.

Finally, he spoke up again, his voice cutting through the silence, "Don't move.."

You heard the faint click of something being opened, followed by the sound of him approaching you again and the sound of a machine vibrating. His footsteps were slow and deliberate, each thump of his feet against the floor sending your heart racing.

The bed dipped as he lowered himself to sit next to you, his hand grabbing your thigh and spreading your legs apart. "You're already so wet, baby girl," he murmured, his fingers tracing up your thigh, getting closer and closer to your core. "And all it took was me tying you up... I think you like being helpless like this, huh?" 

"Hmm…jongho…"

"Shhh…that's not my name. You know what you should call me…"

"Sorry…sir" 

"Good." 

His hand reached your aching core, gently tracing circles around your entrance, teasing you with just the slightest touches. The machine in his other hand continued to hum, vibrate in his hands. He chuckled softly, knowing that you could feel the anticipation building in the air.

"Don't worry," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I'm going to make sure you're screaming my name by the time I'm done with you," he said, his fingers finally moving further between your legs, gently massaging your sensitive bundle of nerves. "You're going to be begging me to let you come. And I'm going to deny you over and over again until you can't take it anymore…until you're completely broken for me."

Jongho slowly pressed the vibrator against your core, the powerful vibrations sending waves of pleasure through your body. He watched as your body arch up off the bed, your messily moaning filling the room. He turned the intensity of the vibrations up a notch, his other hand pinning you down onto the bed. "Look at you," he murmured, his voice dripping with desire. "Already writhing around and we've barely started."

He increased the intensity of the vibrations, the powerful hum of the machine echoing through the room. Your legs trembled as the pleasure built within you, the binds around your wrists and ankles digging into your skin.

"You look so pretty when you're like this," he said. "Just completely at my mercy, trembling beneath me, your body responding to my every touch."

The vibrations grew stronger, the pleasure coursing through you in hot, sharp waves. Your head was spinning, and your body was arching up off the bed, searching for more of that overwhelming sensation.

"I said don't move," he said, his hand pressing your hips down against the bed, holding you in place. "I told you not to move, baby girl... I'm in control here, not you. " He kept up the steady, relentless pace of the machine, his other hand trailing up your stomach, his fingertips tracing lazy circles along your skin. He was enjoying watching you come apart under his touch, relishing in the fact that he had complete control over you.

He continued to toy with the intensity of the vibrations, keeping you on the edge, never quite giving you enough to push you over. "You're so sensitive, baby girl" he said, his hand gripping your thigh. "You can't take much more, can you?"

"I…hmm…" 

"You're already so close, but I'm not gonna let you come just yet."Jongho moved the vibrator away from your core, letting the sensations die down. 

"Ahh…please…" You were panting heavily, your body trembling with the need for release. "Don't stop…"

"Beg for it," he said, his voice low and commanding. "Beg me to let you come..." Jongho pulled back again and picked up the vibrator, the low buzz of the toy filling the air once more. He pressed the vibrator back against you, the intensity now higher than before. He watched as your body rocked and writhed against the restraints.

"Please…hmmm…" You let out a broken moan. 

"Louder." He commanded, the intensity of the vibrations increasing again. "Louder, baby girl.. say my name."

"Please, sir…please…I can't take it anymore, I need to come so bad,"

"That's more like it," he murmured, the satisfaction in his voice clear. "But I don't think you've earned it yet. You're gonna have to wait a little longer, baby girl." 

Jongho shifted the vibrator, pressing it against your swollen, sensitive bud, while his fingers found their way to your entrance. Slowly, he began to tease you, his fingers tracing small, torturous circles around your entrance, just barely penetrating you, and then withdrawing. He was building the tension, winding you tighter and tighter. Jongho gently skimmed the flesh, never quite giving you the deep, satisfying pressure you were craving. 

 "Hmm…~" You let out a whine to complain, arching your hips to meet his fingers. Everything was too little for your liking.

"You want me to push my fingers deep inside you, don't you?" He smirked, skimming his fingertips against your bud. "You want me to fill you up, to stretch you open and make you scream my name. He continued this pattern, his fingers withdrawing each time you got close, keeping you on the edge, building the overwhelming need until it was almost unbearable. The machine hummed loudly, the powerful vibrations driving you to a point of almost painful pleasure.

"Please…I need your fingers…please…" 

"Like this?" Jongho pushed his digits inside of your cunt, curling them slightly to hit that sensitive spot deep within you. It was a tight fit; you were so damn needy for him right now. He felt the heat and wetness of you wrapped around his fingers, and almost lost it. 

You couldn't help a loud moan of relief, your body rocking against his hand as he began to move them in and out. The speed and intensity of the toy combined with the pressure of his fingers was almost too much to take, your legs shaking uncontrollably beneath the restraints. Your head rolled back against the pillows, your breaths coming in shuddering gasps as he continued his torturous assault on your sensitive body.

"Sir…sir…!!" 

The speed and depth of his fingers increased, driving you towards the edge you were desperately seeking. You could feel the heat building within you, the tension coiling tighter and tighter, until you were almost gasping for breath. The pleasure was overwhelming, nearly unbearable, and you were struggling to hold back the wave of your release. 

"You want to come, baby girl?" he asked, his voice dripping with power and control. "You want to come on my fingers? Beg me for it, baby girl. I want to hear you beg."

"Please…I need to come, please" Your voice was a ragged mess of pleading and begging, your body arched and trembling in need. Your heart was racing, and you could feel the pressure building uncontrollably in your core. "I need to come…please let me come…please…please…I can't take it anymore…"

Jongho's eyes darkened, the sound of your pleading driving him wild. He pumped his fingers even deeper and faster, hitting that sensitive spot inside you that made your whole body jolt. He leaned forward, his mouth next to your ear, whispering in a low, dangerous tone, "Yeah…I know you need it, baby girl. Beg a little louder, and I'll think about letting you come…"

you could feel yourself teetering on the edge of release, the sensations building almost too quickly. You knew you were on the edge, that you were about to tumble over, and the thought of being denied that release was driving you crazy. "Please, I'm so close…please, please, please!" you panted, "I need it…I need to come, Sir."

"Come for me now, love." 

"Fuck…!"

The moment you finally came, your body shaking violently and arching up off the bed, Jongho slowly withdrew his fingers from you, a smug expression of satisfaction on his face. "There you go, baby girl…" he said, his hand trailing up your leg. "That's what you wanted, huh?"

Just as the waves of your climax had started to subside, Jongho suddenly leaned down and pressed his mouth against your core, his tongue darting out to tease and taste you. Your body jerked involuntarily, the overwhelming sensations sending a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through you. "Hmm…so damn sensitive…" he murmured against your skin, his tongue moving teasingly, slowly laving over your sensitive flesh. "I bet you're still so damn sensitive…"

He continued his onslaught, his mouth working against you with a relentless determination. Your body was trembling with the aftershocks of your climax, and he was expertly exploiting that sensitivity, licking and sucking at you, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate circles. 

"Ahh~~~"

As your whole body trembled and convulsed with the second climax, Jongho gently pull back, pulling your body against him so that he could feel your quivering muscles and the heat that was emitting from you. He held you there for a moment, his arms wrapped around you, his face nuzzling against your neck as you rode out the aftershocks.

Jongho chuckled, his hand reaching for the discarded toy he had left on the bedside table. "You thought we were done, baby girl?" he asked, a wicked smile playing across his lips. "We're not even close to being done yet."

He found the small, powerful vibrator, the rounded head resting lightly against her sensitive bud.

"I want you to come again, baby girl," he said, his voice low and commanding. "Can you do that for me? Can you come again for me, with this little toy against your sensitive little bud?"

He turned the toy on, the low hum of the vibrations filling the air, and pressed it against you, the tip resting directly on your sensitive bundle of nerves. You let out a loud gasp, your body arching involuntarily as the vibrations went to work on your sensitive flesh. It was almost too much, the toy was so damn powerful, and you could feel the heat building up within you again, the tension coiling tighter and tighter as Jongho watched your reactions intently.

As the toy continued to buzz against your sensitive flesh, Jongho unexpectedly leaned down and pressed his mouth against your core again, his tongue darting out and licking your bud. "Mmm, you taste so good," he murmured against your flesh, before closing his teeth softly over your lower lip, sucking and pulling on it gently. 

"You're so sensitive and tender right now, I could just eat you up," he said, lifting his head in order to look up at your face, his eyes roaming over your flushed cheeks and panting lips.

"No...no...not there... I can't take it...ahhh~~"

"Oh, you can take it, baby girl," he replied, his voice dark and demanding. "You can take it and you will take it, because I'm not done with you yet. I won't be done until you're a mindless, quivering mess."

Jongho shifted the toy slightly, adjusting the angle of the vibrations, and continued to move it in gentle, torturous circles against your sensitive, swollen bundle of nerves. "One more…baby…come for me one more time. Can you give me one more?" With a flick of his wrist, the toy suddenly kicked into an even higher intensity, the vibrations more powerful than before. Your body jolted involuntarily, and you let out a sharp cry as the sensations overwhelmed you.

"Hm…please…sir…I–fuck…mmph…!!" 

"Come for me…let go for me…" 

His thumb moved, flicking the toy to the highest setting, the powerful vibrations sending waves of pleasure through you. Your legs were shaking, your head thrown back, and your body was quivering, the tension coiled so tight you felt. 

The room was suddenly filled with the sound of your ragged moans as Jongho's mouth and tongue attacked you with an intensity that steals the breath from your lungs. There was no gentleness in his movements, no soft, slow build-up. He's relentless, his hands holding your legs apart, giving him complete access. He devoured you like a man starved, his tongue tracing dizzying circles and flicking against your sensitive flesh with an intoxicating rhythm. 

His dark, smoldering eyes lock onto yours, observing every flicker of pleasure that crosses your face. He continued his assault on your sensitive flesh, his tongue working in tight, quick circles around your swollen bud, before moving down to lap at your entrance, pushing in his hot, soft tip inside. 

"Shittttt!!Fuck!!" As your body convulsed and trembled through your release, Jongho pulled back, his mouth leaving you with a lewd, wet sound. He sat on his heels, watching you panting and shivering in the aftermath, his own breaths coming in short gasps.

He ran his hand over his face, wiping away the wetness from his mouth and chin, before leaning down to press his forehead on your thigh. "Damn, baby girl...the sounds you make." He left a soft kiss on your soaked clit, making you whine at overstimulation. An evil smirk tugged on his lips, he slowly untied your ankles and wrists, carefully moving them off the bed and massaging the reddened skin where the bounds had pressed into you. 

"Hurt?" 

"No…" You shook your head and he dropped a kiss on your lips. 

"I know you like it…" In an instant, before you had a chance to respond, he swiftly turned you onto your stomach, pressing your wrists against your spine. A startled gasp slipped from your lips as you sensed the rope being tightened around your wrists once more.

"Jong…Jongho…" 

His hand moved up to your throat, his fingers gently but firmly wrapping around your neck, holding you in place. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to remind you who is in command here. He leaned over you, his bare chest pressing against your back, his breath hot against your ear. "Shhh…don't struggle," 

The rope was soft but firm, binding your ankles tightly together. It wasn't uncomfortable, but it was definitely restraining. And as Jongho moved up your legs and to your upper thighs, the rope became even tighter. You couldn't move or spread your legs at all, and as Jongho finished securing the final knot, you felt completely immobilized, helpless, and at his mercy.

Jongho pulled your hips up, your ass up in the air, putting your sensitive parts on full display for him. You could hear him shift behind you, the sound of a bottle being opened and liquid being poured out. His hand gently ran over your exposed backside, and then suddenly, his hand was gone, only to be replaced by the feeling of something cold and wet being spread over your tight entrance. He was prepping you, with his fingers and some lube, to take him. 

"Ready, baby girl?" You could only nod. 

"Answer me," he commanded, "Say you're ready for me."

"Yes…I'm ready…" 

"Ready for the punishment…love…I won't be gentle…" The sound of the bottle shutting and being put away was followed by the faint, almost inaudible sound of fabric being shifted, and then you felt the bed dip behind you. "You're going to take everything I give you, understand?"

"Yes...I understand."

"Good," he said, his hands tightening their grip on your hips. "Because I'm not going to stop, even if you beg me to." Jongho positioned himself right behind you, the head of his swollen, hard length pressed against your entrance. Without a warning, he suddenly slammed his full length into you, the force of it causing you to cry out and arch your back off the bed. There was no pause, no waiting for you to adjust, just the hard, relentless pace of his hips as he pounded into you from behind. He was ruthless, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulled you back to meet each brutal thrust. 

"This is what you wanted, isn't it? To be punished…to be taught a lesson…" His hands moved to your shoulders, pulling you up until your back was flush against his chest. You were completely enveloped by his body, your head lolling back against his shoulder. "And you'll do as I say from now on. No more running late, no more ignoring my calls, no more disobeying."

"Next time you're late, I'll keep you like this all night, until you can't walk straight." His pace grew even more punishing, each Thrust sending a rush of pain and pleasure through your body. "Understood?" he growled, his mouth moving to your ear, his hips still relentless in their motion.

"Y-yes... understood... I'm sorry…sir."

"You will be sorry," his hand moved from your hip to your chin, turning your head to the side so he could look into your eyes. "And you will be sorry tomorrow when you're sore and aching…you'll be sorry for days, until you feel my punishment on you every time you move."

Another hard thrust had you keening and arching your back, your legs instinctively trying to close and thrash, only to be met by the tight, unyielding knots of the rope. He chuckled breathlessly, enjoying the way you struggled against the binds. His fingers tangled in your hair, pulling your head back to expose your neck again. "You're such a little pain slut, aren't you?"His other hand slid down your front, pausing to caress one of your stiffening nipples, before moving further down. You felt his knuckles brush against your sensitive bud. "My pretty little pain slut, that's what you are…and you love it, don't you? You love being punished…you love being hurt by me…don't you, love?"

"Y…yes…I love it…I love being your pain slut…I love being dominated and punished by you…" 

"That's what I wanted to hear." With those words, he pushed you back forward, his hand on your hip as he increased his pace again, slamming into you relentlessly. The room was filled with the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, of your breathless moans, and his grunts of pleasure. His hand moved to the back of your neck, applying pressure so that your face was pressed against the pillow, muffling your moans. "You like being full, don't you? My cock stretching you out, filling you up…my pretty little pain slut, that's what you are, taking my punishment so well."

He loved the way you took his every word, the way you didn't resist, the way you compiled so beautifully. It awakened a primal, possessive need in him, a need to mark you, to claim you as his.

His hand snaked around your hip, seeking out your throbbing, sensitive bundle. He knew exactly how to touch you, how to make you ache with pleasure. As he continued his punishing pace, his fingers found your bud, teasing and flicking it.

"Ahhh…fuck…" Your hips automatically pushed back, wanting to leave his touch. But he thrust forward, his palm flattering firmly on your bud. The more you struggled, the harder he plugged in. "No no no, love." His hand moved away from your bud and grabbed your hip, holding you in place. "You don't get to run away, my love."

Jongho's hands reached for something you couldn't see, something that sent a new dose of excitement through your veins. Then another click and a soft whir, and you felt the familiar, torturous vibration against your folds. It was harder, closer, stronger. You tried to look back at him, to see what he was doing, but his hand moved to the back of your neck, pinning your face down against the pillow.

"Stay still, love." He placed the new toy firmly on your swollen clit. "Eyes front," he ordered, his fingers tightening in your hair. "No looking." Then, without any warning, he suddenly increased the speed of the vibrator, the intensity now so much more intense. He could feel your legs straining against the bindings again, trying to close, to find some kind of relief, but they were held firmly in place.

Everything was overwhelming. The vibration kept sending a wave of pleasure to your whole body while his thrust was purposeful and brutal. He made sure you felt every vein, every hit, every rub. All you could hear were messy moans and the sound of slapping skin bouncing off the walls, masking any noise outside. It was too much, and yet, you loved every second of it.

His hand pulled your head back, and you felt the sting of pain as your hair was pulled taut. But it was a good sting, one that mixed with the pleasure and heightened your senses. Your neck was exposed, bared to him, and you could feel his lips on your skin, kissing and marking you as his.

Your body felt as if it were on the brink of breaking. Every nerve sizzled with pleasure and sensations, the overwhelming intensity of it all building and building. You could feel Jongho's pace becoming more erratic, his breathing more labored and his grip on your tighter, more desperate. He was close, very close, and you were too. It was like a storm, building and gathering power until it finally reached its peak.

Suddenly, you hit the peak, a loud moan leaving your lips as your body arched. The juices soaked the tip of the toy, and even your thighs. Jongho's hands held you close, keeping you tethered as he reached his own peak, his rhythm faltering and his own breaths coming in gasps.

His body shuddered against yours, his arms encircling you, holding you tightly. For a long moment, you both lay together, sweaty and breathless, trying to catch your breath. His lips were at your neck, peppering your skin with soft, lazy kisses, his body still resting on top of yours.

"Don't miss my call and go out so late... you made me worry to death," He murmured, his voice low and soft, still a little breathless. He shifted slightly, his chest rising and falling against your back as he tried to catch his breath. "You're lucky I'm still letting you off easy," he said, his voice a bit huskier as he slowly untied the knots. His hands were gentle as he unraveled each tight loop, releasing your wrists from their binds.

"Sorry...love...I won't do it next time."

"You better not," he replied, his voice still deep and commanding, but there was an underlying softness now, a hint of his concern and love for you. Once the last knot was untied, he gently took your wrists into his hands, bringing them up to his lips. He pressed kissed against the sensitive skin, the places where the rope had left light marks.

"Clean up?" You nodded with a tired smile, letting him scoop you up easily. Well...you know this won't be the last time. 

Because you love it so much.

tag list: @angelsaway, @yeosangcutie0615, @monsta-x-jagi, @sunnysidesins, @xidkkk

[shegatsby]

Love Thy Enemy

Summary; Y/N Atreides had always been a stranger to the entire galaxy, her bed wasn’t her bed, her home wasn’t her home due to the fact that she was sent to accompany and be sisters with Irulan. She had limited access to her actual family and over the years they grew distant. She thought she would be like Reverend Mother, alone, yet powerful, and soon she would realize that there was no need of being alone when a wild creature had his eyes on her for a long time.

A/N: Hello! Sorry guys I was protesting against the government of my country and joined the riots and almost got arrested, I'm back tho. Love you little doves.

Warnings: SMUT IS HERE! Minors get the f out. Pregnancy sex! P in V! Wrap it before you tap it folks!

Words: 4.019K

TAG LIST IS OPEN! (Let me know if i forgot to tag your or if you changed your username pls)

Chapter Thirteen ''Union''

In the coronation chamber, Baron Vladimir Harkonenn was seated in his floating device, towering above his subjects, he was fuming in anger. Lady Wench’s servants’ heads on the stairs of his throne, covering the black stone stairs in blood, It looked as if the stairs were a river of black water, ‘’How could she manage to escape?!’’ he roared at his advisor who was also his right hand, the bald headed man was shaking in fear, he was a lithe man, his uniform jet black with certain colors on his left shoulder to show his rank. ‘’My Lord, Baron Vladimir,’’ he began, controlling his voice, his head low, ‘’Our Lady Na-Baroness-‘’ his speech was cut with Baron’s raspy voice, ‘’Do not dare call that bedchamber whore Na-Broness!’’ he had been ordering heads, shouting for strategic plans, he had sent a very angry letter to the Padishah Emperor Shaddam and also Duke Leto and the Reverend Mother. That old wench was the reason why Vladimir said yes to this union, he knew this little girl was a trouble and he remembered the conversation he had with Feyd-Rautha, his nephew months ago when he had a meeting at Shaddam’s study chambers, Feyd had attended few minutes later…

‘’Did I miss anything?’’ Feyd entered with a wicked smile, he had just finished dancing with Lady Y/N, it brought up his spirits to annoy her, the look on her face was something he would like to see for the rest of his life. Shaddam was sitting on a stone chair, Duke was facing Vladimir. Reverend Mother was behind the Emperor.‘’Here is my nephew.’’ He announced, ‘’He had grown up since you saw him, Duke Leto.’’ It was true, the last time Atreides family had visited Giedi Prime all of their children were little, playing and fighting together. It broke the Duke’s heart to see how much the Baron corrupted his own nephews, Rabban was gone but maybe, maybe Feyd could be saved. ‘’I highly object to this union.’’ Duke said firmly, his hands were formed into fists, he wasn’t going to sell his first born daughter like a livestock, ‘’Leto,’’ Shaddam raised his hand and draw the attention, to Shaddam, Leto was like a son he never had, he wanted Leto to understand how much he cared for this union, all eyes were on their galactic Emperor. Reverend Mother was whispering venom into his ear, or so Leto thought.

‘’This union is very important to our houses and the entire galaxy. Long ago Atreides and Harkonnen fought for centuries and shed blood. I desire to prevent this happen again. It’s time for you to unite.’’

Of course there was some truth to it but the Bene Gesserit’s only plan wasn’t this. They have been trying to create a bloodline both connected to the Atreides and Harkonnen directly. Duke hated the witches, except Jessica, she was different, Duke hoped that she would support him, it was such a shame that even though they have been together for years she was still a Bene Gesserit witch. He was soon going to find out.

One could look up and see the strange look on Feyd’s face, Baron knew that look, he was excited for his new toy but he had suspicions, she seemed too independent and disobedient. Feyd would soon to be fed up with her and toss her aside once she gives birth to the heir of house Harkonnen. That night he warned Feyd when they were alone, ‘’If you do not wish to be with her we can find someone else for you. After all, their purpose is the same.’’ Baron said, he was on his bed, smoking, Feyd was summoned late at night to speak with his uncle. ‘’No uncle, I do wish her and only her.’’ That wicked smile placed itself on his plump lips.

He had never understood why Feyd was so persistent with her.. he didn’t have time to dwell on it anyways. ‘’My nephew shall find her and bring her to justice.’’ He announced, if he had looked hard enough he would see the reluctant eyes of his subjects, little did he know that Lady Na-Baroness had gained the favor of the people of Giedi Prime.

After her session with the Reverend Mother of the Sietch Y/N retrieved to her chamber, a small space with rugs on the floor and walls, she got used to the smell of the spice, she got used to the people and the people got used to her even though she caught them staring time to time, she looked different and her head was held high all the time, it draw attention that she was a member of the Bene Gesserit and could use the voice. She meditated all night on the words and facial structure of the Mother,

‘’he is looking for his wife..’’

‘’a treachery on his part..’’

‘’Soon..’’

It must be Feyd, she was sure that her arrival was detected by his men and they must be looking for her but treachery part was confusing, she tried to channel her ancestors but it was in vain, she had to be skilled for that. She gave up the meditation because a huge sound was heard throughout the Sietch, a blasting sound and a mini second later she could hear the screams and the laser guns. Y/N immediately left her room, Fremen soldiers were gearing up, old women and children were being escorted to safety, she could see that with huge machines the walls of Sietch were being blasted, ‘’Y/N!’’ her new friend Sama screamed her name and she turned to find the source and saw Sama running towards her, she was holding a knife and a small laser gun, ‘’Here, take these. The Harkonnens are attacking us. I don’t know how they found us-‘’ another huge blast and from the giant hole a pack of  bald headed men in black uniform entered with their high-tech guns. It was them for sure. ‘’Go,’’ she said to Sama, ‘’you have duties, I can protect myself.’’ Sama was reluctant but Y/N reassured her and smiled, after Sama’s departure she joined other healers and Sayyadinas to help the children and elderly, the entire Sietch was covered in dust which was the mixture of spice and smoke, Fremen soldiers were strong and charging but the Harkonnens had more arms and outnumbered the Fremen. Y/N was in charge of helping the old Reverend Mother to safety, she ran to her bedchamber to collect her, the woman was dressed in orange satin, a yellow scarf covering her hair, ‘’Reverend Mother,’’ she yelled to be heard, ‘’you have to leave. Now.’’ The old woman calmly looked at her with spice blue eyes, ‘’You are the only one who can save us,’’ she said with a low voice, ‘’go to him. End this war.’’

Y/N understood clearly and bowed her head, she ran back to the common hall of the Sietch which was raided by the Harkonnens, she was watching from a corner and she saw her husband, Feyd-Rautha Harkonenn, he was giving orders to his men, he was covered in black but on his arm there was a scarf tied, it was hers. Her heart ache when she saw it, he must have been looking for her for weeks. She had to do something to stop the battle and the bloodshed so she came up with an idea. Y/N looked around and found a high platform, a rock that towered the common hall, it was a place where sometimes Stilgar would announce things and make his speeches. She ran towards the rock to climb it, on the way she was careful and trying to not be found and recognized, the screams of innocent Fremens filled her ears and made her climb harder, her fingers were bleeding when she reached the top and with all of her strength she yelled; ‘’STOP!’’ thanks to the Sietch’s design at this place someone’s voice could be heard clearly from everywhere inside. The Fremens and the Harkonnen soldiers stopped and looked p to find the source of the sound, Feyd-Rautha knew that voice, the smell of her pheromones brought him here and there she was, on top of a rock, her beautiful hair long and loose, they made her wear a baggy beige dress, she looked tired and sad… ‘’My wife..’’ he whispered. She was here, he had found her.  ‘’You have kidnapped my wife!’’ Feyd-Rautha screamed at Stilgar who was closer to the rock, there was a distance between them but they could see each other, Stilgar knew that this woman was a Harkonnen’s wife and his people didn’t believe him. He was right all along. ‘’Make truce and you can have your wife back Harkonnen!’’ Stilgar uncovered his mask to be heard, he was suspecting that Feyd-Rautha was going to attack and he did something which made everyone stunned, he dropped his weapon, ‘’Let her come to me and  I swear you shall have a truce.’’

Stilgar weighed him conscientiously, he also dropped his weapon to show respect, even though the man before him was a Harkonnen. The silence hung in the thick air of the Sietch, due to the fires it was extremely hot inside, Fremen and Harkonnen soldiers were alert yet immobile. Stilgar turned to look at her at the top and motioned his head, she started to climb down the rock, her hands hurt but she managed to be steady, when her bare feet made contact with the sandy floor she released the breath she was holding. Stilgar held her arm vigorously and walked towards Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.

When Feyd saw that Fremen trash’s hold he was about to get his laser gun to shoot but the look on Y/N’s face was begging him to be wise and calm. ‘’Take your wife and leave.’’ Stilgar said and stop, pushed her to Feyd and he caught her, Y/N was in his arms after so long.. she looked up to meet his azure eyes, she saw so many things there, primal fury, sadness, happiness.. they were all swimming in the deep orbits of his eyes, all he wanted to was to kiss her like a man starved but not here, not right now. Feyd looked at Stilgar who was a few inches away from them, ‘’You have your truce… for a week.’’ And without a beat he held his wife’s arm and guided her outside the Sietch.

No one dared to utter a single word on the ship back to the palace of Arrakis. Y/N sat there on the cold metal chair, Feyd in front of her, and two pilots at the front. His intense gaze was on her, she looked different, her hair was a mess, she looked dirtier and plumper and yet she was the most divine creature he had ever witnessed in his life time. His elbows on his knees, legs spread he was just staring, Y/N’s eyes found the dirty scarf tied around his bicep and then his pale face, he opened his mouth to say something and thought better and closed it. When they arrived she felt his hand on the small of her back, guiding her to the palace, she had seen the holograms of the palace before but seeing it up close was something else. One could see the traces of the Harkonnens, it was built by them 80 plus years ago and it was actually a gigantic structure yet simple. At the top it had a huge dome, she wanted to see it during the day light, maybe she could do it soon if she survived tonight…

His grip on her back tight, firm. Even though he was walking closely beside her his hand was possessive, she could feel it in her bones. The soldiers bowed as they saw her, ‘’Welcome back, Na-Baroness.’’ One of the higher ranked commander greeted her and she gently smiled, she didn’t have strength to speak, however her Bene Gesserit training was alerted, these men were actually relieved that she was here with them, maybe her policy back at Giedi Prime worked. As they walked the long stone corridors and reached to his bedchambers he unlocked the door with his thumb, the door opened and his hand gently pushed her inside and he locked the door, the inside consisted of a big bed, a door to the bathroom chamber, tall windows to see the endless desert, a spice rug at the middle of the room, not much of furniture except a leather couch and two armchairs, he pointed the couch, ‘’Sit.’’ Was the first word he said to her, his whole body tense. His chest felt tight, his fingers twitching, he wanted to take her in his arms again and check for any injuries, he had this deep desire to protect her, he came to sit across from her. Feyd had to take a sharp breath when he saw her eyes taring up but she was keeping her composure, ‘’Why did you escape Giedi Prime?’’

She exhaled, ‘’I had to..’’ she swallowed the lump in her throat, she was about to cry, ‘’I had no choice.’’ Her hand went to her stomach instinctively, his eyes following her action, ‘’Yes Feyd, I’m with child. The look on your face tells me that your uncle Baron Vladimir has been keeping it from you. He was the one who didn’t let me read the letters you had sent me for weeks, he is plotting my death after I give birth to our child.’’

His heart nearly stopped, the thought of her being with child, their child, was almost too much. Her hand on her stomach sent a wave of possessiveness, and protectiveness through him. ‘’I..’’ he began, ‘’You’re pregnant?’’ he was still in shock.  He felt sudden rush of different emotions all at once, happiness, surprise and… anger. Anger that his uncle kept them apart, that he kept her pregnancy from him, that he was planning his wife’s death. He wanted to reach out and touch her face, hold her, he had to hear you first and then he was going to love you and show you how much he had missed you. ‘’How long have you been pregnant?’’ his mind went to their last intimate moments, which was two months ago.

‘’For two months.’’ She replied.

It felt like someone punched Feyd, he clenched his jaw, this was all too much. She was pregnant with his child and he haven’t seen her for two months because of his uncle. ‘’Why didn’t you tell me-‘’ he knew there was no point in asking that but he couldn’t help it. The words just slipped out of his plump lips before he could stop them and that earned him a sudden outburst from Y/N. she bolted to her feet in anger, ‘’How was I suppose to tell you, huh? How was I suppose to let my husband know that I am pregnant with our first child when your uncle reads my correspondence and has his spies behind my tail?!’’ she was yelling at this point, ‘’I had to escape, you couldn’t take me with you because of your uncle but I came to you!’’

‘’I KNOW!’’ he nearly yelled at her, he also jumped to his feet, towering above her, he was also angry but not her, never her, he was angry at the entire situation that they were in. ‘’I know that you had to escape, I know that you came to me, I know I couldn’t take you with me!’’ he was yelling now, he took a step towards her, his chest rising and falling rapidly. ‘’Then why are you so cold towards me?!’’ her voice broke.

His hand went to his bald head, frustrated. He wasn’t cold towards her, he was on edge, he was trying to keep himself check, but her words were making him lose it. He grabbed her by the arms, his grip firm. ‘’Because I don’t know what to do! I don’t know what to do with you, with us, with my uncle’s blood plan.. I don’t know!’’

‘’He asked for my head didn’t he?’’ she was calm now, her voice as cold asa Bene Gesserit witch.

He was staring at her, his pupils blown wide, his hands still on her arms, ‘’Yes.’’ He admitted through gritted teeth, his grip even more tighter, he wanted to pull her close, to shield her from everything that was happening, ‘’He demands your head.’’

‘’What are you going to do Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen?’’ she asked coldly, ‘’It’s either your wife or your uncle.’’

His eyes hardened, ‘’I will not let him touch you.’’ He said with a harsh voice, his mind was In turmoil. Ever since he opened his eyes to this galaxy he has learned to suppress and channel emotions, yet he was a mess right now. ‘’I will not let him take you. He wants your head but he will not get it.’’ His gaze was intense, his voice now threatening.

Y/N reached and clashed her lips with his.

He was taken aback by the sudden kiss, his anger and turmoil melting into the kiss and replaced by a rush of desire and need. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her flush against him, his hands exploring her body greedily. He could feel his body ignite with a hunger for his wife, he was desperate for her touch, flesh, and taste. One of his hands moved up and entangled itself in her hair, holding her there, their mouths melded together in a heated and possessive embrace, it had been so long. She whispered between kisses, ‘’Take me to bed.’’

He immediately picked her up like she weighed nothing, took her to the bed and laid her on the mattress, his body following close behind. He knelt above her, his eyes dark with desire, he kissed her again deeply, his tongue exploring her mouth with a hunger that borders on wild desperation.    Her hands reached to take off his uniform and his breath almost stopped , he broke the kiss to help her, when he quickly got rid of his uniform he knelt to kiss her neck, bite and leave his marks on her. His large hands also helped her with her dress and she was naked under him, he took a step back to look at her, his jaw clenched again, his hands gently roamed on her soft flesh, his fingers were tracing every curve, every contour. He bent his head and placed a kiss on her shoulder, working his way down on her body with trail of hot kisses, his mouth worshiping every inch of her. He stopped when he reached her belly and looked up to meet her gaze, he felt a rush of emotions washing over him. It hit him that they were going to be parents, that she was carrying his child inside her. His heart swelled with a warm and fuzzy feeling, his fingers gently caressed her belly, almost as if he wanted to feel the baby that was growing inside her. His eyes were soft for a moment, he started to kiss her stomach again, making it emotional for her as well. Soon he went lower and lower and met her dripping core. His hands were gripping her hips, his mind was swirling with lust and need. A his mouth reached her core, he paused for a moment his breathing ragged and hot. He looked up at her, his eyes dark with desire, and he slowly took one of her legs over his shoulder giving himself more room to work. He slid his tongue over her slick flesh, tasting her, feeling her body shudder under his touch.

He didn’t know what has gotten into him but he just needed to drown himself in her. She moaned when he made the first contact, they had never done this before so it felt more intimate. His lips and tongue exploring her sensitive flesh, he was taking his time, wanting to savor every second. It was different than he had expected, more intimate and more pleasurable. He could feel her tremble under him, hearing her breathing change and he couldn’t help but draw out her pleasure, to make her feel good. His hands gripped her hips,  holding her in place as he swirled his tongue over her wetness, taking his time. She screamed his name ‘’Feyd!’’ as he inserted a finger, she was so wet and ready, it sent a wave of desire surging through him. He kept his mouth exploring, his tongue teasing and swirling while his finger worked inside, his mouth was hungry, his body heat getting hotter and hotter, he was losing himself in her reactions, in the sounds she was making, his own need was growing stronger and sending electricity. As he added another finger he could hear her gasps and whimpers, his mouth still on her wet folds, she tasted delicious, he was lost in her. It was so fun to watch her, she looked like a woman possessed and he was the one making her like this. ‘’Feyd,’’ she screamed, ‘’Feyd, I’m coming!’’ there was a feeling on her lower abdomen that she had never felt before, His fingers and mouth kept working, he wanted to see the way she was going to crumble, he was desperate for her to come in his mouth, he was drinking her like a man who had found a river in the middle of the desert.  She felt so soft in her mouth that he couldn’t stop himself from biting a bit, it earned him screams, soon she started to shake in pleasure, her hands gripping the bed sheets, as she came undone she screamed his name like a prayer so many times and Feyd didn’t move a muscle, he drank her sweet juice like a submissive servant, who was ready to do whatever she wanted. As she screamed his name he greedily lapped up every drop of her, not wanting to waste a single bit. His desire for her was strong, it was nothing like he experienced before with his former slaves, she was different and every since their first intimate moment he wanted no one but her. She was his, and Feyd wanted to give her more. He climbed up to kiss her, she was still shaking, he could feel her in his mouth, a sweet taste and he wanted her to taste herself so he kissed her  raw. He wanted to envelope her and become one, their bodies glued and she could feel his hard member. A moan escaped his lips, his body was tense with desire, needing her so badly. His fingers were gripping her skin as he leaned in to press his lips on her boob, sucking on the sensitive flesh, he had imagined that in a few months her tits were going to leak with milk, her belly swollen with his child and that image mad his rock hard cock twitch, his eyes were on hers as he sucked on the sensitive flesh, her boobs now more sensitive than ever. ‘’My husband..’’ she moaned and threw her head back. He couldn’t stop himself, her moans driving him wild, hearing her call him ‘’my husband’’ just set his heart racing. He moved back up to kiss her his body pressing against her body, ‘’Mine.’’ He said voice hoarse and ragged. ‘’Yours..’’ she managed to say, his mouth devouring hers, he needed her, he had to have her right in this moment so he place himself between her legs, ‘’You’re mine..’’ he took a moment to look at her under him, legs spread, such a fine delicacy and all for him. He entered her sweet folds slowly, and gave her a moment to adjust, she had forgotten how big and thick he was, it felt like the first time all over again and she gasped, ‘’Shhh’’ he knelt to kiss her cheek, her nose, her chin, he pulled out slowly and moved back in, to the hilt.

(Tumblr said the chapter is too long so i’ll continue the smut on the next one)

Tag list: @superchatnoir07 @mamawiggers1980 @landlockedmermaid77 @moonsoulk @crystalskiesandcherrywine @palomavz @beebeechaos @jeong-uwu @tian-monique @avidreader73 @aleemendoza2425-blog @taleah @oneandonlybbygrl @flower-frog @or-was-it-just-a-dream @howibecameabadassbitch @monstresshorn @keanuispunk @lunerose0 @purplepeach333 @torossosebs @austinbutlerslovers @athanasialove @darlingisntit @aoi-targaryen @alexa4040 @rosegardenpatsu @affabletimelady @mydearbabydoll @sabrinaselina55 @lothiriel9 @missbingu @vikingsbifrost @lechat-rouge

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

curious about your take on riddle's dream. i have seen people en masse claim that riddle yearns to a deliquent/"if he wasn't traumatized, he would be in a pop music club" and... it feels like such a literal interpretation (although there are some who are obv just joking) to the point of misinterpretation? i'm not very invested in riddle's story arc, but to me it read like a pretty clear "what if i was the worst version of myself (which riddle has been raised to see as being disobedient) and i was still loveable".

[You can read my thoughts on the book 7 chapter 12 part 3 update here!]

I think there’s a lot of different ways to interpret the dreams because of how… vaguely they’re written + their length + every player coming into the dreams with their own experiences which inform their POVs. For this reason, I don’t feel comfortable outright stating X or Y interpretation is “wrong”, and nor do I wish to be used as a means to validating one interpretation over the others. All I’m going to do this ask is explain how I personally interpreted Riddle’s dream. That’s all.

I don’t think Riddle wants to be a delinquent; this would be conflating a child’s desires to that of a delinquent. Yes, Riddle was detained be a police officer—but not for any violence or serious criminal actions. He was detained for singing in front of the police station (without a license) and causing a public disturbance (because of his amplifiers). Furthermore, Riddle doesn’t engage in any other criminal behaviors (unless you count not going to school, but a minor isn’t usually held liable for that; the onus is on his parents for not sending him). I think it would be more accurate to say that Riddle’s wishes are very child-like ones. He wants to be able to play with his friends all day, he ignores studying and obeying rules, he can eat tarts and drink sugary tea whenever he wants, he has doting parents that are always emotionally there for him, etc. These are not marks of delinquency, they are the innocent longings of an inner child that never got to be recognized.

While I don’t think it’s a guarantee that Riddle would be in Pop/Light Music Club had he had a more lenient mother, I do think that Riddle would want to explore creative outlets. He is noted as having a very strong imagination, but is limited in his life experiences and struggles to think for himself or to act outside of the concrete, as is defined by rules and laws. If these restraints were loosened up and he had actually been allowed and encouraged to explore other avenues, he might have found an interest in the arts and expressing himself through that. It could be a visual medium, a written medium, a musical medium, whatever.

I think music is what we jump to right away because he has a band in the dream, but I could easily see him dabbling in other areas too. Maybe music was chosen because it’s a group activity, and Riddle longs to be that setting. A happy family, a boy with lots of friends, you name it. You could also argue that Riddle went with music because that’s what he knew from his dorm members. Adeuce are in athletic clubs, which Riddle is sort of rubbish at, and Trey is in Science Club, which of course covers topics Riddle would already be studying irl. Cater’s club is the only one with a significant degree of creativity allowed. Riddle might have based his hobby in the dream off of Cater’s experiences. One telltale detail that supports this theory is that Riddle mentions people keep leaving because the band can’t stick to one genre, which is also true of Cater’s irl Pop/Light Music Club. Another thing to consider is that Riddle is able to conjure the look of delicious cakes and cookies but not replicate the taste because he’s not familiar with it. You could say this is also true of his being in a band. He looks the part, but we never hear him participating in it—perhaps because Riddle could have seen Cater rushing to a club meeting in his outfit, but not have actually heard him play. Therefore, it’s possible that Riddle’s dream is just pulling from his shallow understanding of what “being in a band” is about… the camaraderie of it. This, again, loops us back to Cater’s relationship with his fellow club members. It’s less about the actual playing and more about the vibes and hanging out with one another. Maybe Riddle heard stories from Cater about this and got curious? This same logic applies to other aspects of his dream. He seems to emulate what he has heard from his dorm members in general. Loving parents who are there for him (like Trey), the bout of delinquency (like Deuce), the ability to speak his mind (like Ace). Riddle is wanting to be more like his peers, who were able to have “normal” experiences. To me, it feels like he used his dorm members as templates (which he combined with his own desire to have a fulfilling childhood) because Riddle himself doesn’t have a clear concept of what it means to live freely. After all, he only has like 1-2 months of playing with Trey and Chenya to go off of compared to a few years with his Heartslabyul classmates.

As I said earlier in this post, I don’t think the Riddle we see in the first layer of his dream is meant to be “the worst version of himself” or “Riddle but disobedient”; it reads as more of Riddle indulging in everything he missed out on in his childhood. Sweets, parental love, playing all day with friends, loudly and openly expressing himself through music, exploring creative ventures, making happy memories… I don’t believe these are bad things or borne out of Riddle wanting to be rebellious or disobedient, they’re just consequences of acting like a kid.

I do find it interesting that so many aspects of himself were entirely written over. However, I don’t see it as Riddle thinking he has to be a different person (as in, having a different personality?) in order to be worthy of love. Riddle was definitely still able to make friends as a child even with the quiet personality he had then. It was possible. Nothing in his backstory makes me think Riddle believes he wasn’t deserving of love—but he may think that love has to be earned, that love is conditional. And what is that condition? Following the rules, obeying, performing well in exams. That’s what he was taught would earn him success and his mother’s love and that’s what he enforced in early book 1. I think… Riddle definitely wants to be someone else, but in the sense that he wants to be born into different circumstances. Parents that get along, a dad that has time for him, a mom that dotes on him, no magic, no expectations to shoulder, lax rules, etc. This ties in with Riddle wanting to live the childhood he feels he never had. A childhood where he had no friends, where he studied all the time, where his mother calorie counted for him, where he was not allowed to play video games or watch movies, where he was not allowed to choose his own clothes or career or anything. Several of these sentiments were expressed post-OB.

Now that being said, everything I just discussed covers only the first layer of Riddle’s dream. I see the idea of Riddle thinking he has to be someone else coming through a little stronger in the second layer of his dream. That’s the part where everyone is being chased through the destroyed rose maze. Here, we see a much more extreme and even more domineering Riddle than what we saw in book 1. He lords over his students such that even his versions of Ace and Deuce have fallen into line and mindlessly follow his commands. The mob students are scared of him—and though Riddle is aware of it, he is content. They salute him and praise him for his iron fist. He is the most correct, after all. He is ruling just as his mother would, he is being the person his mother wants him to be.

This is expanded upon further in the third layer of his dream, in which he faces his inner darkness. Riddle confronts the truth: that he is desperate to cling onto the dorm leader seat, because that’s all he has going for him. He has driven away his classmates, who fear him and resent him. There’s his mother, but she has not granted him the affection he craves, and her approval is conditional. He is alone and unloved. This potentially recontexualizes details seen in earlier layers. Why is Riddle in a band? Maybe because he wants to be like Cater, who seems easygoing and approachable. Why does Riddle live many other aspects of his dorm members’ lives? Why do the characters conjured by Riddle’s darkness to fully believe that Cater wants to transfer to Scarabia—a dorm known for having a friendly and relaxed leader? It could suggest an insecurity in Riddle, a worry that he, as he is, is not enough. Not smart enough for his mother’s approval, not kind or cheery or normal enough to make friends. So all he has is his crown, which he reverently claims to. It’s one of the few things he has to call his own, a decision he made for himself and something he earned through his own merit.

But ultimately, I see Riddle’s truest desire as… being his own person, having his own independence and things he chose for himself. Not letting himself be ruled by the shadow of his mother. (His Phantom fittingly seems to dangle him on strings, as if Riddle is its puppet or marionette.) It doesn’t mean complete chaos or anarchy, and it doesn’t mean being like other people. It means defining his own rules for how he should live. Walking forward on his own path. Making his own identity, not tied down to that of his mother. Riddle is so used to being to do what to do or how to be—by his mom, by some arbitrary set of rules. The fact that he confesses to the things he actually wants after his OB… that he wants to stand up to his mother over winter break… that he confronts the dream version of his mom with the declaration that he will open this door with his own hand, that he will walk forward on his own path… I think that says a lot.

…. Weeeeell, like I said at the start, that’s one interpretation 🤷‍♀️ It’s not necessarily “correct”, and it’s liable to change (especially since all of this information is still very fresh; I’m still taking the time to digest it myself). The wibbly wobbly dream magic is open enough to invite all kinds of interpretations, so I encourage you to take this all with a grain of salt and to come to your own conclusions?

I think it’s interesting that it’s Riddle’s dream that has resulted in many different interpretations, especially on the English speaking side? I wonder if that’s because the average EN player skews younger, so those fans can relate a lot with the struggle for identity and finding freedom from one’s parents, even if their circumstances aren’t exactly the same as Riddle’s. We project our own experiences and feelings onto Riddle, which informs our interpretation of his dream.

[sapphicandgraphic]

Ride It Out—Chapter 5

Synopsis: A hurricane rolls through Philly, and Melissa invites you over to ride it out. 

Chapter: 5/? In which some unexpected visitors inspire bad behavior, and Mel has to teach us another lesson! Brief Captain Robinson cameo.

Series Warnings: Mentions of minor violence, protective Melissa, domestic fluff, hurt/comfort, WLW smut

Chapter Warnings: Disobedient reader, stern Mel, edging implied, dom/sub dynamics, good girl, praise kink

You woke up slowly. You were warm and everything felt hazy, soft in that early morning way when dreams hadn’t yet evaporated. The light outside was pale and gauzy; the only thing you could hear at first was the rain on the roof.

You blinked. Stretched. Realized with a dull, ambivalent kind of surprise that you were naked. Melissa’s arm was slung across your bare stomach—possessive and protective in a way that made you instantly smile. The redhead didn’t seem to be awake, but she curled her arm around you, adorable frown lines bracketing the space between her eyes.

“No,” she mumbled, her voice scratchy and rough. “Stay.”

You smiled, pressing your face into her neck. “Morning, Ms. Schemmenti.”

The night came back in flashes. The candlelight. Her soft hair tickling your chest. Staring up into Melissa’s face, so achingly beautiful it might have been the ceiling of some sacred, secret chapel.

Good girl. I’ve got you. Let go for me.

The echo of her words made you squirm helplessly. You felt a flutter in your stomach as you pressed your legs together, noticing a pleasant soreness from being stretched, filled, fucked. Had you really fallen asleep with her fingers still inside you? The thought seemed impossibly scandalous and somehow, exactly right. Like a puzzle piece finally clicking into place.

The other woman shifted slightly, so that your hips and stomach were pressed even closer against her warm, soft curves. And suddenly an unbearable greediness possessed you. Your fingers, draped against her ribs, trembled with barely restrained desire. You wanted to touch every inch of her, taste her, devour her.

You blinked and opened your eyes more fully, glancing down at Melissa’s body twisted in the sheets. Flashes of smooth skin were visible—her hip, her arm, the curve of her cleavage—contrasted against the light grey cotton. The sight reminded you of paintings and sculptures you’d seen in museums. You stared and stared, committing every shadow, every shade to memory.

“You’re thinkin’ too loud,” she complained.

You were suddenly reminded that the redhead wasn’t a morning person. But maybe you could do something about that. “Just admiring the view.”

You snaked your hand down and Melissa wiggled, finally cracking a smile as you traced light circles on her belly.

“Tease,” she whined, canting her hips forward, like she was trying to urge you lower. You batted your eyelashes, ready to give her anything.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the front door. Not the kind of knock you could ignore, either. It was heavy, authoritative. You froze. Melissa glanced at you, clearly annoyed at being interrupted.

“Hold that thought,” she breathed, rolling out of bed. You watched her plump ass sway across the room. She found a robe, wrapped it around herself hastily. Then, on second thought, she grabbed a baseball bat from the closet as well.

“How many of those do you have?” You wondered aloud.

Melissa smiled. “A lady never tells.”

Then she disappeared around the corner.

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’,” she shouted, descending the stairs. “For Chrissake.”

You heard her open the door, chatting with someone. Her gruff tone softened after a few moments. Then you heard her laugh, the rich rumble hitting your ears with all the force of a siren call. You dragged yourself out of bed immediately.

After a few minutes spent searching for your clothes, you ducked into the bathroom across the hall and swiped some toothpaste across your teeth, a comb through your bedhead. Satisfied, you wandered downstairs to find…

Firefighters. Several of them. Two sitting at the dining room table, one walking toward the back door carrying an axe, one standing in the kitchen beside Melissa. Your eyes narrowed as you realized you recognized this last one—Captain Robinson. He and Melissa had dated briefly. But that had ended a while back. Or so you thought. He said something and she tilted her head back, laughing, pouring him another cup of coffee.

Suddenly, you wondered if you should have stayed hidden upstairs. You were just stepping back into the hall when Melissa called your name.

“Hey,” she said, eyes sliding over you. You studied her face, trying to follow her lead on how she wanted to play this. “Coffee?”

You nodded, accepting the steaming cup. “What’s going on?”

“Tree came down last night,” Robinson explained, seemingly unsurprised to find you in Melissa’s house. “Landed on a power line in the backyard, neighbor called us. When I saw the address, I figured I’d use the excuse to say hello.”

He glanced between you, looking suddenly curious. You braced for an awkward question.

“Mel said she didn’t hear anything,” he said, and you tried to suppress the irrational rage you felt at his use of the pet name. “What about you?”

You glanced at Melissa, who chose to take a delicate sip of her coffee just then. Your eyes drifted over her chest, lingering on the splash of freckles, the curtain of her tangled hair. For one wild moment, you contemplated just blurting the truth out. She was touching me in places I didn’t know existed. She was rewiring my brain chemistry. The street could have opened up and swallowed me whole and I still wouldn’t have noticed.

“I’m a….deep sleeper,” you said diplomatically.

The fire captain nodded, oblivious. “Well, my boys should be able to take care of it. Mel was kind enough to invite us in out of the weather.”

You were nodding along, eager to end this conversation. The sooner you could stop hearing him refer to your Melissa (your Melissa?) that way, the less likely you’d be to strangle him with a fire hose. Then he added, “Nothing like a good cup of coffee from a beautiful woman.”

You slammed back into reality, noticing the way the man was smiling at Melissa, the way she was smiling back. The sight made your stomach tighten unpleasantly.

“I was just about to whip up some toast and eggs,” she said, eyeing the captain. “Still take ‘em over easy?”

He grinned. “You make it, I’ll eat it.”

She nodded, turning back toward the stove. You tried to unclench your hands, which had suddenly balled into fists.

Melissa was a shameless flirt. It was so second nature that you wondered sometimes if she even realized she was doing it. So the banter with the fire captain was meaningless, right? Still, you watched the easy back-and-forth with no small amount of jealousy.

And a sudden cruel voice wormed its way into your brain: maybe not. Maybe, and this thought caused an unpleasant ache in your chest, maybe you were the meaningless one, just another notch in the bedpost of an irresistible woman who liked to have fun.

For the first time since you’d woken up, you felt a flicker of doubt. What if this was just something casual, a hook-up? The idea seemed laughable. What had happened last night between you two was…biblical, cosmic, legendary, the opposite of casual. Wasn’t it? But maybe not to Melissa.

Maybe she did this all the time. Maybe she just considered you a friend with benefits. Maybe it was a one-time thing, and you’d stupidly caught feelings. The thought was like a knife in your heart. You wanted to do this again and again. You wanted Melissa all to yourself. But what claim did you have? This guy had as much right to flirt with her as you did. Maybe more. After all, they had dated.

You sagged against the counter as these dark thoughts gathered, pressed in, threatened to suffocate you where you stood. From the corner of her eye, Melissa noticed the way your shoulders rounded, the way your eyes shuttered, became unfocused, unreachable. She frowned, swaying forward to get your attention.

But before she could make contact, you turned away, casting your eyes around the room, looking for a distraction, an exit, anything to claw your way out of this spiral. Your eyes landed on the perfect solution, which just so happened to already be staring back at you.

Melissa followed your gaze. One of the other firefighters, a guy about your age, with thick black hair and huge arms covered in tattoos.

You side-stepped Melissa, so close that your arms brushed, and picked up the coffee pot. “Hey, hon,” she said, eyes crinkling as she smiled uncertainly. “You need somethin’?”

“I wouldn’t want to interrupt,” you said, tone syrupy sweet as you nodded toward Captain Robinson. “I can see you’re busy.”

The wall you’d put up hit Melissa like a ton of bricks. She folded her arms, obviously confused. You turned away, making a beeline across the room. But not before you noticed the lost look on her face, the one that said she clearly hadn’t meant to upset you, that she was slowly catching up to what was going on. Good, you thought, trying to protect yourself even as the idea of hurting her went against every instinct in your body. Let’s see how she likes it.

“Freshen you up?” You flashed him the type of smile you usually reserved for Melissa. The other woman watched helplessly as you topped his drink off. Then she felt the murderous throb of fury gathering in her chest, as his eyes wandered slowly up and down your body. You were’t wearing a bra, your hair had that perfect just-fucked-against-a-headboard look. He licked his lips.

“Nice tattoos.” Your voice carried clearly in the small house, drifting over the sound of light rain dancing its ceaseless pattern on the roof.

“Thanks, doll,” he said, his heavy Philly accent making your chest clench. It sounded better on Mel. “You got any?”

You smirked, giving him a wink. “Not where you can see.”

“Oh yeah?” He leaned forward. “Maybe youse can show me sometime.”

You set the coffee pot on the table, leaning down and propping yourself on your elbows. At this angle, your face was dangerously close to his lap. You twirled a strand of your wavy hair, made a face like you were considering it. He repositioned himself, spreading his legs slightly.

“Hon?” Melissa’s voice cut the tension instantly. You looked up to find her eyes were dark, her expression thunderous. “Can I get some help in here?”

You shrugged, looking down at the firefighter. “Duty calls.”

Captain Robinson had disappeared, presumably to oversee the work out back. You joined Melissa at the counter, standing shoulder to shoulder. From this position it looked like the two of you were staring out the window, watching the men in the yard work with their axes and chainsaws, moving heavy pieces of lumber.

You felt a strange kinship to that fallen tree—it had been whole and solid when the sun went down last night, certain of its place in the world; only to awaken and realize everything had changed in the darkness. Now it lay in pieces, scattered and rearranged, not unlike your tender, needy heart.

You exhaled slowly, curling your fingers over the edge of the sink, bracing yourself for whatever letdown Melissa was going to deliver. Knowing her it would be gentle, funny. You’d probably be laughing about this by lunch.

“What are you doing to me?” It wasn’t a question so much as a plea, the redhead closing her eyes briefly as the words tumbled out. You chanced a look at her, surprised to see a flush in her cheeks.

To the untrained eye, it might have looked like Melissa was just a little overheated. But you had studied this woman for months now, like a work of art; cataloguing every delicate expression. Melissa was flustered. Maybe even a little turned on. The realization gave you a thrill.

“Just being friendly,” you said, unable to keep the petulant tone from creeping into your voice. “Is there some law against it?”

“Jesus Christ,” she muttered, wiping a shaky hand over her forehead. Then she busied herself with preparing breakfast, opening the spice drawer, fumbling with glass jars of garlic powder and salt and pepper and oregano. She needed to do something with her hands to keep from doing something impulsive—like grabbing you, kissing you, staking her claim on you. A claim she wasn’t so sure about anymore.

“I thought,” Melissa said, her voice tight. “That you were my good girl.”

You stilled. The volume on the rest of the world seemed to turn down, Melissa’s voice emerging like a crystal clear frequency that transmitted signals straight to your heart. In an instant, the despair and jealousy you’d felt watching her flirt with Captain Robinson shriveled, as insubstantial as a piece of paper tossed into a roaring fire.

“But with the way you’re actin’,” and now you heard the smallest tremble, giving away how affected she was. “Seems like I might need to teach you another lesson.”

Your mouth went so dry, you had to lick your lips to form your next words.

“I’d like that,” you breathed, not caring how needy the confession made you sound.

Melissa paused, hand hovering over the utensil drawer, eyes staring straight ahead. “Are you sure?” She asked.

“I didn’t mean to,” you said, eyes flickering over to the young fireman. He was still watching you with no small amount of interest. “You were ignoring me.”

Melissa considered this. So you weren’t uninterested. Just the opposite, in fact. You were being a needy little brat. What a relief. She could work with that.

“But ya still did it,” she growled, setting a pan down on the stovetop with so much force that it skidded away. “And now I got an Italian stallion in my kitchen, lookin’ at my girl like he wants to bend her over the counter right in front of me.”

Her girl. You whimpered, gripping the edge of the kitchen counter. Every atom in your body seemed to activate at once, vibrating with need. Melissa’s eyes flickered over your face, as if she could see exactly what those words did to you, the way your body was responding to her.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, rubbing your thighs together, realizing with a pathetic thrill that you were wet. Melissa’s eyes flickered down, noticing the subtle movement.

“You are?” She asked, cracking an egg into a pan. The sizzle was loud enough to cover what she said next. “Prove it.”

Melissa ran her hands under the faucet. You licked your lips, watching the soapy water run over her fingers. You passed her a towel. “How?”

The redhead smirked, like you had fallen right into her trap.

“You’re going to do exactly what I say,” she said, reaching out and brushing her warm knuckles against your cheek with unmistakable tenderness. It was a miracle your legs didn’t give out in that moment, your need for the other woman’s approval and attention so all-consuming.

“Anything,” you said, feeling feverish.

Melissa exhaled shakily, the only sign that she was just as caught up in this as you were. “Remember what I said last night?”

And fuck, that question made you even dizzier with desire. Because Melissa had said so many things, so many wonderful, perfect, obscene things. You rifled through the catalogue, before you landed on an answer that seemed to fit.

“That - that you know exactly what I need?”

Melissa smiled. Part of her wanted to kiss you right there. But it would have ruined the game. “That’s right.”

You felt a smug satisfaction as having answered correctly.

“Go upstairs. Open the top drawer of my dresser. There’s a toy in a silk bag. Take it out, turn it on, and put it…” she trailed off. The expression on her face was punch drunk, her voice shaking as she leaned closer and whispered. “Fuck, baby, put it where my fingers were last night.”

Her instructions settled over you like a weighted blanket, grounding and warm. You could barely eke the next words out. “Then what?”

“You wait,” she said simply. Her green eyes took on a feral glint. “But don’t you dare come until I say you can.”

This launched you into a new stratosphere of longing. Your brain felt fuzzy, floaty. Now that it was all laid on the table, Melissa was looking at you with an aching, careful expression. You hadn’t responded yet, for the simple reason that you had never heard something so fucking hot in your entire life. But the other woman took your silence for hesitation.

“Can you do that…for me?” She asked softly, turning the burner down on the stovetop. And her voice was suddenly shy, uncertain sounding.

Seeing you flirt with the fireman had made her incredibly jealous. It had also unmoored her from the safe harbor of the previous night. She was seeking reassurance that this was what you wanted, asking your permission, inviting you to keep mapping this new undiscovered country.

“Can you be my good girl again?”

Taglist: @yoyo-w

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[shamrockqueen]

Father Figure : Chapter 3

Pairing : Best Friends Dad Bucky x Reader

Warnings : R18, angst, eventual smut, age difference, taboo attraction, 18 and green

Word count : 3833

AO3 Link

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Your night was nearly sleepless, plagued with every second of that phone call. His voice still lingered in your ear, making your skin burn a shameful shade of pink.

You didn’t quite understand this new version of him your mind seemed to be making. Of course Mr. Barnes had always been handsome, and at some moments incredibly attractive. From the few times he had seen him shirtless, he seemed well chiseled. Yet, by far, you loved his smile the most. It was something so genuine and gentle as it crinkled up towards his eyes.

But, he was Becky's father! He wasn't someone that could be an object of desire.

That simply wasn’t allowed. You weren’t allowed to see him as anything other than how he was.

Eventually exhaustion finally won out, rewarding you a few hours of much-needed sleep. Shortly after, you'd finally meet the morning, rubbing your sore eyes as the light of the rising sun was clouded over by a familiar yet stern face. Your mother was looking down at the both of you, disappointment etched into every feature in her face.

Her scrub top was wrinkled, and her hair messy from her own rushed morning. She’d looked over at the snoring mass that was Becky before the girl snorted herself awake.

“Get up, both of you!” Her voice shocked the room, jolting you both fully awake. Your friend from her deep slumber and you from your paralyzed state.

Becky was out of bed before you, as you clambered out of the covers. Your mom turned away from the two of you, calling back over her shoulder as she traversed the thin hallway. “Don’t be late for school."

Of course she’d rather reprimand you later, an awful quirk she had, as she'd rather have plants of time to chew you out over your disobedience. She had told you time and time before 'not to let Becky into this house.'

Her excuse being that Becky was a terrible influence. A sharp and noteless tune you were sick of hearing.

Rebecca was your friend, and even with her prickly personality, she had been there for you in your lowest moments just as you had for her.

The last you'd hear from your mother that morning was curt and was shouted out from the front door. “I’ll be telling her father where she was last night." What followed after was growled under her breath in distaste before she finally shut the door.

"Not that he’ll do anything about.”

You hadn’t heard that last part, but you didn’t care either way, believing this to be just part of her prejudice against your friend and her broken family. Not that yours was ever whole to begin with.

The two of you readied yourselves for an effortless Friday before leaving an hour earlier than necessary. Rebecca didn’t want to go to school just yet, goading you into following her to the old McDonald’s up the road with the promise of buying you a cheap breakfast. You agreed, and soon after the great piece of Americana came into view on the hill. Still with its ugly faded red metal roof and its big, barely lit yellow ‘M’ Truly a McDonald’s that time forgot.

She made good on that promise, handing you the bag as you followed her back of the shabby establishment.

The two of you ate your crumbling biscuit sandwiches in silence at one of the rusty tables sitting outside the little restaurant. Rebecca was more interested in filling her empty belly, whereas your sandwich sat in its unfolded wrapper with only a small bite missing.

Your stomach grumbled in protest, as if it would have rather gone empty in retaliation to the buzzing memories of last night's call to Mr. Barnes. His voice, smooth like velvet on the skin with a heavy timber, still seemed to rumble in your mind.

You had hoped that even with meager sleep it would have been forgotten, but you were horribly wrong.

“You’re really quiet.” Her voice nearly made you jump back, winning you a strange look from your friend.

“Damn, what’s got you so on edge?”

How could you answer that question? Certainly not with the truth that thoughts about her own father were consuming you.

“Uh…my mom..you know..she...” You struggled to find a scapegoat for your predicament, not wanting to spill any real secrets.

Your mom was mad this morning; that had to be reason enough to be upset yourself. You don’t even have to complete broken sentences to garner a response.

She gave you a groan before actually saying, “Yeah, I know she doesn’t like me.”

“She’s always on about things that she just doesn’t really understand.” You gave her a weak smile, hoping to reassure her just a little.

“Mine’s no better.” She said before taking a big bite of her sandwich.

“You still wanna visit her? You always complain about her when you’re up there.”

She chewed away her frustration before answering back with, “I just want her to notice me. It’s always easier for her to ignore me when I’m not there.” She looked down at the last meager bite of her sandwich as she mumbled a single lament under her breath. Yet, you still heard her words, spoken sad and low to her own chest.

“At least my dad calls.”

“How is he doing..? Your question cut itself short; the words had fallen out before you could catch them, but Rebecca didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. She didn’t notice the brief widening of your eyes as your heart hiccuped at your own mere mention of him.

“He’s…detached. Like for the last couple days something’s been bothering him.”

“I’m sure he's just overwhelmed.” You spoke softly before coughing out a continuation. “Uh…You did come home pretty sick the other night.”

“That’s just it; he hasn’t yelled at me or grounded me at all for that. Like..like he's given up or something.”

You tried to dance to safety around the topic only to step into an unseen mire as Becky’s tears began to spill.

You watch as Becky averts her gaze, making your stomach clench with the possible knowledge she might have had.

“I’m just…y’know. I’m sorry! I was a mess, and you and my dad had to take care of me.” Her voice cracked as she spoke. Becky often showed you a more subdued level of vulnerability, but on rare occasions she would shower her truer colors with a deep and sorrowful blue.

“I was so drunk that I don’t even know what I did to make you run away like that and…”

“Hey, hey.” You scramble for the wad of napkins that had been stuffed in your bag of food so that Becky could dry her eyes. It smudged her already messy makeup, but she seemed to calm down a little more.

“I think I fuckin broke him, and I don’t wanna break you too!”

“It’s fine, you didn’t do anything; I just..” you had to stop yourself before any truth could spill. You didn’t want to lie, feeling sick enough of the smaller ones you’d already given her.

“That night was a lot.” That wasn’t a lie, and the breathless feeling James had given you after pulling you over his knees came back all at once. “Everything just happened so fast…I”

“I’m sorry.” She cut you off again, much to your relief.

You huffed a sad laugh, sniffling as your eyes threatened to tear up. She smiled back at you, knowing you forgave her. You’d always forgive her.

“Can..uh..can you come to my house tonight? You know, if you want?”

“Oh I..”

“If your mom won’t let you, then it’s..whatever. But, the house is too quiet, and I don’t want to feel alone.”

Your mom wasn't as much of an obstacle as she’d hoped to be, not with her nightshift standing in her way. Most days she could rule the house, but until she could come home in the early morning, the nights were yours. Not that you ever did much with them other than hanging out with Becky.

You didn’t know how you could face Mr. Barnes, but you couldn’t ignore Becky’s cry for help. Certainly to your detriment.

“I can come over. It’s fine.” Your pulse has quickened, and you wish you had just said no. But, in all honesty, you didn’t want to be alone either.

With that, Becky’s mood had lightened, and she crumpled up her food trash before tossing it into a nearby trash can.

You fained a similar sense of joy; the knot that built in your stomach would remain all throughout the school day. You dreaded the moment you’d have to face him, but you already made your bed when you agreed, and now you’d have to lie in it.

At the time, there was a lot you didn’t know about James. Some of the things you’d learn were sad to say the least, but it made him seem all the more stoic.

James was young when he had first gotten married. They were already expecting Rebecca and truly believed they could conquer all odds facing their already short union.

James loved his daughter, her life never being created intentionally, but no matter what faced him, he’d never regret having her. Yet, early in his marriage, things started to change. Like a thin layer of veneer peeling away to bring into view the chipped and broken surface that had hid beneath. The more of this ugly side James had to see from his once blushing bride, the more and more it felt as if he sold his soul to a demon in disguise.

The fighting was spontaneous and yet routine. Not one single move that James had made was good enough for that woman, and it left a widening crack between them until everything finally broke apart. The split was desired by both parties, but nothing could be agreed upon. When James wanted to keep something, she was there to speak on why she needed it more.

The custody of their daughter, of course, made every other argument pale in comparison. The battle was vicious from both sides; James wanted to split custody so Rebecca wouldn’t lose both of them, but that woman wanted blood from a man that had never once lifted his hand to her.

Every second her daughter would see would be in her presence alone; that way no one could “poison her perception of me.”

The tears were spilling, and the woman James once happily called his 'wife' many years prior cried out to the court, "I was miserable," “I want a better life for my daughter," and James, of course, “wasn’t a proper provider,” at least not of the life she felt she deserved.

James never felt more disgusted with her than this moment; it was like watching a demon puppet the body of the woman he once loved like a corpse on a string. James was very lucky, because tears weren’t enough to sway the judge, and split custody was awarded.

This wouldn’t be the end of their infighting, taking its role on both James and most certainly Becky. A union was broken over top of a little girl's head, and the constant pull from either side tore into her belly with a deep and incurable pain.

Becky fought with her mother; she fought with her father, but she never had to fight with you.

Her voice was the only control she had in her own life, and the heavy sense of abandonment she felt when her mother sent her away left her empty. But, you listened to her; even as she raised her voice and screamed at the sky, you stayed by her and made her feel heard.

You were gentle with both Becky and her father, making the house feel calmer with just your presence, and as Becky clung to it, James seemed to gravitate unconsciously closer until ultimately colliding into you.

When his daughter came home drunk, he was beside himself to see how his own flesh and blood could be so conflicted. Yet, you were so perfect. He envied your pristine nature and took his frustration out on it.When he realized what he’d done, it was too late, and he was sure you told your mom, and he’d have cops knocking at his door the next morning. But you didn’t, and things went by as they normally did.

It gave him both a sense of ease and deep-cutting dread at when the shoe would finally drop if not now. You’d listened to him the few times he could open himself to you, just as you would with his daughter. It had made you such a great comfort as well as making this situation all the worse.

His image of you changed that night from the sweet girl that sat at his daughter's side into something sinister. He’d never handled you like that before, and your body felt fuller against him after he’d thrown you over his legs. You weren’t even scared as you looked up at him, only choosing to run away after being thrown off his lap.

He’d been inappropriate, letting a terrible part of himself break through, and he could never describe the disgust he had for himself after that moment. He sent you running away, and yet that broken part of himself had hoped you would come right back.

That phone call left his heart so heavy. He hated how elated he was to hear your voice before the news of his daughter's safety. It was a childish feeling, and it left his stomach aching as he recalled the events that led him to this point.

Your flushed skin was warm and soft under his calloused fingers. Then there were your watered eyes, wide and teary with confusion but not fear. You didn’t fight him off, and you weren’t scared of him.

You hadn’t slept well after that phone call, biting away a few bits of sleep without reaching any restfulness. By the end of the day, he was home, staring into the black lagoon of his coffee as his mind wandered. That was until it was interrupted by a soft knock at his door.

He had hoped it was his daughter, and he threw himself from his chair to open the door. These nightly flights weren’t new for Becky, and he couldn’t bring himself to be angry anymore as long as she went somewhere safe. That way she’d always come home the next day.

He opened the door only to find you standing with Rebecca on his porch, in the flesh instead of a dismissible, disembodied voice whistling through his phone speaker. Now you were in front of him. Now you weren’t at a safe distance.

His eyes caught yours first before immediately trying to break from your gaze. Then they landed on his daughter, and he stepped out to pull her into a hug.

“I’m glad you came home, sweetheart.”

“I-I’m sorry.” She said, just above a whisper, before the hug broke and he let the both of you inside.

He closed the door, turning his back to the both of you as he spoke. “I take it she’s spending the night?”

“If that’s ok?” You quickly called back before carefully setting your bag down by a small rack of shoes.

“It keeps her out of trouble if you're around.”

You noticed a small quirk of a smile along the side of his lips before he disappeared entirely when he turned back to face you.

Becky gave a sassy huff as she picked at her nails. But, she looked back up and gave her dad a grateful “thanks dad” before continuing her pace all the way to her room. You followed after as she threw her bag on the bed.

“We gonna watch a movie tonight?” You asked, laying back against her floral comforter.

“We can binge a bit of gossip, girl, or something.”

You propped yourself up on your elbows with a grunt before hopefully shooting that option down with a laugh. “Ugh, I hate teen soap operas. Literally anything else.”

“Shut up.” She chuckled back, “It’s not that cheesy.”

“Oh yes, it is!”

She grabbed her jacket to fling it over top of your head, like quitting a canary in its cage. “Quiet you.”

You threw it back off in disgust after a whiff of BO hit your nostrils. “Holy hell, that reeks.”

“Nuh uh”

“Fuckn, yeah, huh.”

“Well, I didn’t take a shower last night. So..” She said while sneaking a sniff towards her underarms before pinching her nose as the smell. “You wait here while I clean up, alright?”

“You better. I can still smell you from here.” You gave a fake gag and cough before pretending to faint onto her bed.

“Knock it off.” She laughed back, throwing more stuffed creatures in your direction before grabbing her change of clothes and trotting off towards her bathroom.

For a moment everything was how it always had been, and as you left her room to find a cheese movie on TV, it was like nothing actually changed.

That was until you saw him again. It wasn’t the face of Mr. Barnes, you knew; the soft quick of a smile was replaced by a deep and troubled frown. His eyes were no longer amused, only on edge.

When he saw you come in, he stiffened in his seat and gave a quick cough. You were a little surprised he decided to speak to you, but the sentiment was lighthearted.

“Thanks for taking care of her.”

“Absolutely..sir.” You shot back nervously. You always tried to take care of Becky, a responsibility that should have never fallen to your shoulders.

“How have you guys been?” You twirled your fingers together as you fidgeted from under his gaze.

“Becka certainly missed you.” He bemused. “Kinda think we both did.”

It was a slip of the tongue on his part, or maybe he’d hope you didn’t hear him talk under his breath. The low gravel of his voice gave him away, and you answered him back with a similar sentiment.

“I missed you too.” The words lingered before you cut their meaning with an added “both of you, of course.”

You watched as his adam's apple bobbed with a hard swallow.

“Are you ok? Y’know after you got upset..”

“I wasn’t upset with you, I promise. I’m glad Becky came to you last night..”

“I meant the other night..” You looked out towards the bathroom as the sound of the shower still sounded through the house. “..when Becky came home sick..”

“Don’t..please.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“You are the last person that needs to apologize for that!” He had stepped up, leaving him standing right infront of your shivering form.

“I-it’s ok, sir..”

"No, it’s not.” He looks guiltily at you before continuing, “I’m just so frustrated. I just came spilling out until I..I hit you like that.”

“Mr. Barnes, please. If you just needed an outlet, it’s fine...” you stopped yourself before you continued, shocked by what had slipped out of your mouth. That’s not how you meant for it to sound. Mr. Barnes was your friend, and you just want him to be comfortable around you again.

Bucky spoke instead as he wracked a firm hand over his face.

“Oh my god. An outlet?” You are not an outlet. No man should ever do something like that to you without your consent.” What he’d done disgusted himself. If anything, he believed to be the luckiest motherfucker alive for not being in jail right now.

But in an odd touch, starved part of his brain, he had revealed the feeling of your warm skin under his palms for that brief moment. It made him feel even worse afterward.

His eyes shot out towards the hallway for any set of prying eyes into this incriminating conversation. The shower still ran, and the dull sound of music played from the steaming bathroom door.

"Listen,” he spoke in the calmest whisper he could.

“What I did was very bad. I cannot do that kind of stuff to you of all people.”

“But..”

“sweetheart..” He only ever called you that when he talked to you like a child. An adorable nickname for the sweet little neighbor girl who played Miss Mary Mack at the bus stop with his daughter.

“I’m not dumb, Mr. Barnes. I know what happened, but I-I don’t want you to have to feel this way about it.” You reach out for his hand, but he jerks it from your fingers, as if the small touch had burned him.

It was when you flinched, a few tears burning your eyes from the mistreatment. Although it seemed along with his expression, his heart melted when he saw your mood shift.

“You have no idea what you're saying." He leaned in and grabbed both of your shoulders to halt any further words that would come out of you. His voice was a low, angry whisper.

“If you have to put your hands on me again, I won’t stop you, sir.” You spoke so fast, a whisp of words flying through the air faster than they could be heard by praying ears.

But, he did in fact hear you. He saw the pleading look in your wet eyes with a glimmer of desire you didn’t even know was shining through them. It made his heart drop, and his skin flushed a soft pink you’d never seen it do before.

You questioned yourself for a second, feeling that maybe he was right and you didn’t know what you were talking about. Were you coaxing him to touch you again? Or, were you offering to be his needed whipping girl? Both assumptions being tailed by a horrible air of taboo.

Your mind started to spin, twisting your stomach over your own words. You hadn’t even realized you were crying as hard as you were until he told you to breathe.

You mumbled another pained ‘sorry..I’m so sorry.’ As you backed away from his hands, and your feet nearly caught against the couch as you stumbled for the door.

“No..wait!” His voice cracked as you evaded his attempt to stop you.

When you heard your name being called out to you again, it was by another voice. Becky’s face was a blur as she rushed to your side, grabbing your arm to stop you from running away. It grounded you, her wet hair clinging to her face and her disheveled shirt having been rushed onto her body.

Your head stopped spinning for a second. It was a short moment of clarity that allowed you to wrestle your elbow away from her grasp before grabbing your bag and running.

You ran out the door and down the street for as long as your legs could carry you.

Chapter 4

Tags list : @brianheadsworld @mrs-bucky-barnes-73

@funkybarnes @mayusenpai666 @cadencejames87 @wintrsoldrluvr

[luciferlightbringer]

Talk to Me

Chapter 1

Lucifer x Fem Fallen Angel Reader

Word Count:4.1 k

CW: Angst, abuse, lies, slowburn,

Chapter 1|Chapter 2 (Updated through Chapter 5)

Welcome back friends! I will be tagging all chapters now under #punching-pentagrams if the tags ever have issues or if you are looking for updates from me 😊

Once upon a time, there was a glowing city protected by golden gates, known as Heaven. It was ruled by beings of pure light. Angels that worshiped good and shielded all from evil. Lucifer was one of these angels. He was a troublemaker with “fantastical ideas” for all of creation, and was seen as such by the elders of Heaven. For they knew his way of thinking was dangerous to the order of their world. So, he was to watch as the other angels began to expand the universe in their ways.

From the dust of Earth, they created Adam and Lilith. Equals as the first of mankind, but despite this, Adam worked to take charge over his responsibility to care for Earth, and Lilith refused to work alongside him. She fled the Garden. Drawn in by her rebellious nature, Lucifer found her and troublemaker seduced her to his cause. Together, they wished to the ruin the future of humanity with their selfish dreams and ideas, offering the Fruit of Knowledge to Adam's new bride, Eve, who accepted, unaware that this “gift” came with a curse. For with this single act of disobedience, evil finally found its way into the Earth. With it, a new realm of darkness and sin. And the order Heaven worked to maintain was shattered. As punishment for their reckless act, Heaven cast Lucifer and his mistress into the dark pit he had created, to live out his days as the King of the cruel and the wicked.

This was the Parable of Lucifer, known by every Angel in Heaven, memorized, but rarely spoken. His name, or even the threat of falling was akin to swearing, which wasn't forbidden but it was frowned upon. For many eons, his name was rarely mentioned. That is, until the morning his daughter came to visit Heaven.

You watched that morning as Emily, the young seraphim you served under, danced around her room as she got ready that morning, singing and flitting about while talking about how excited she was to be at the the side of Sera, the High Seraphim, later at a meeting with the daughter of Lucifer and Lilith.

You listened and nodded at her excitement, trying hard to keep your own thoughts to yourself. You didn't understand how she could be so excited, being in the room with anyone related to Lucifer sounded like a fate worse than death. You were not important enough to be in the room where it all was going to go down, and you were perfectly ok with that.

"And then! Oh! What about the zoo?! Do you think they have zoos in hell? Maybe we have different animals.... Oh I'll just ask them!" Emily squealed with excitement as she brushed her hair.

You were trying so hard not to roll your eyes, why would some hellspawn want anything to do with a heaven zoo? And why did Emily insist on showing them around? It almost seemed cruel to show them around something more wonderful and beautiful than they probably had back home in their dark pit of evil. But it couldn't be helped, that is just who Emily was. Kind and full of desire to make people happy.

You were a "right hand man" of sorts to Emily, a sort of "lady in waiting" or "aid", and had been ever since the beginning of her time as the Seraphim of Joy. You enjoyed a higher status, that was marked by your four wings, but not as many as Emily's six, which marker he status as a seraphim. You liked being by her side, she was sweet and playful. It was her job to keep the people of Heaven happy, and it was your job to assist her in that. She was gentle and kind, and that made your job easy. She treated you as an equal, even if she didn't need to, you were happy to serve her.

"Sounds great, my lady, I hope you guys have fun," you say trying to hold back any sass you wanted to add to your comment in response to the idea of her field trip with the Princess of Hell.

Emily looked at you with a smile, "Oh! You're coming with us, of course. Aren't you?"

You held a strained smile, of course she would want to include you.

"Oh... I wish I could. But I can't I have plans," you responded coolly.

"Plans? Like what?" Emily pouted.

"Well... there uhhh... there is the updates to the Golden Girls theme park! Now that Betty is here, I figured it was important to meet with her and make sure it is correct...ya know... get her ideas..." you start.

Emily floats over and grabs your hands, "Oh but that can wait, can't it? Pleeeeease? This is so exciting and I want my best friend their with me!" She gave you big puppy dog eyes.

You can't help but feel a little shy when she calls you her best friend, you were honored that she thought of you as a friend, but you knew that was not your place, even though you had been by her side for several thousand years. It wasn't forbidden for you two to be friends, just... discouraged. Due to the difference in status. You sighed, she knew you couldn't say no to her when she got all pouty and pulled the "best friend" card.

"Alright, alright! I'll go... Just... Please don't expect me to be all buddy-buddy with them? I mean no disrespect, my lady... The idea of having beings of Hell in Heaven just... makes me nervous..." you nervously confess to Emily.

Emily smiles and pulls you in for a hug, "Yay! Oh (y/n), it's going to be ok! How about this? If you get uncomfortable, you can flap your wings quickly twice and I'll give you a reason to leave, ok?"

"But won't that leave you alone with them? What if they should try to harm you?" you say with worry in your voice.

Emily squeezes your shoulders, "It will be fine. Come on! We are gonna be late!" Emily grabs your hand and she half drags you out the door and out the the main plaza to meet up with Sera before going to welcome the guests from hell. You bow respectfully to Sera in greeting and wait as Emily and Sera fly out to the front gate while you wait inside with Sera's aid, Lily, who also had four wings like you. You rarely talked to Lily, but she was also nice, more serious like her seraphim she served.

"How is your lady feeling about the meeting?" Lily asked calmly, looking forward instead of at you.

"Very excitedly, as is her nature. Almost a little too excited, but that is not my place to tell her, of course. And what of your lady?" You asked Lily.

She shook her head, "Nervous, but collected. She was very distressed by Lucifer's request for his daughter to meet with the council of Elders. Her ideas sound... preposterous, and dangerous. Just like her father's," she responded flatly, her nose crinkling slightly.

"What ideas?" you ask.

Lily looked around for any nearby souls before leaning close and whisper, "Something about trying to redeem souls to get them to give them a second change in heaven."

You blinked, what? She is trying to redeem the souls of sinners? "Is that even possible?"

Lily shrugged, "It is not our place to ask such things, besides, we have no idea why they would want to try that. It sounds fishy to me, and I think it sounds fishy to Sera, too. We have a system in place for a reason."

"Of course, that does seem silly to try to change things," you go back to your neutral stance and start to think. The daughter of Lucifer wants to redeem souls? Why? That seems like a good thing to try to do? But how could they prove they were actually "redeemed" to even attempt something like that. As far as you knew, this had never been done before. This thought left you with so many questions, that from that point on would start to unravel your very understanding of everything you thought you knew.

Eventually you see the gates open and Sera and Emily enter with two others, a girl with long white hair, wearing an eye patch, named Vaggie, and a young woman with long blonde hair in a ponytail and a red suit, who was introduced to you as Charlie Morningstar, the daughter of Lucifer. You wanted to focus on the Morningstar child but... something about the other one seemed off about the other one, especially in the way she looked at all of you. Specifically she looked... uncomfortable? That seemed like such an odd way to react to Heaven. But maybe a place this beautiful was just hard for a demon like her to feel comfortable in. A pity.

You shifted your attention back to Charlie, you were only briefly introduced as Emily's aid, she greeted you warmly and then went back to talking with Emily and Sera. You liked it this way, it gave you a chance to just watch this daughter of Lucifer at a distance. As you toured Heaven with them, you were surprise by how sweet and bubbly she came off. She talked, mostly with Emily, about how excited she was about the meeting and looked in awe at everything she came across in Heaven. Your face remained a pleasant neutral, but you were processing everything through the lens of what you had been told about Lucifer and the information given to you by Lily about her reason for being here. What was her deal?

Eventually, Charlie and Vaggie were set up in their room, and Vaggie decided to stay at the hotel while Charlie went off with you and Emily to the zoo, and Sera and Lily went off to prepare for the meeting. Great... now there was more of a chance that you would have to interact with the Morningstar child, but you were good at remaining pleasant and neutral. You stayed to Emily's right while Charlie walked on Emily's left as they went through the zoo. Luckily, the Princess of Hell was more interested in fawning over the animals than paying attention to how little you were interacting with her. You exchanged some pleasantries and small talk when addressed, but not much beyond that.

The longer you were around her, the more curious she made you. She didn't act at all like how you expected a hellspawn would act. You know you shouldn't be making assumptions but... something was not adding up. How could this be the spawn of the most hated and dangerous being in all of creation? Either she was a very very very good actor, spinning colorful and exciting tales to disarm her victims and seduce them to her side... or somehow... despite having such an awful and cruel creature of a father... this young woman had an actual passion and love for others. You were worried at how much you felt like you wanted to agree with the latter, especially with how in-sync her personality fell with Emily's. You tried to shake the questions out of your head, again it was not your place to ask such questions.

Before long, it was time for their meeting with the angelic Council of Elders, which meant it was your time to separate from Emily and the Princess. You bid them a farewell and went off to take care of that meeting with Betty White to make any additions or suggestions to the theme park. You had a pleasant meeting with her, luckily there were only a few additions that needed to be made, so you were able make note of them with the construction team and get back to Emily's suite to prepare her some tea for her when her meeting was over.

Before long you heard the quick open and shut of the door, signaling that Emily had returned home, "Welcome back, my lady Emily! How was..." you stopped as you heard the sounds of... something you had never heard before... little sounds in quick secession that would get quieter, she'd breathe in, and then the quick secession of sounds would happen again, but starting louder and growing softer.

You peaked out around the corner to see Emily curled up on the floor right next to the door, face in her hands, making her little sounds. You had heard about this, was... was she... crying? She had never seen anyone cry before. You rushed over to her side.

"My lady? Emily? What's wrong? Why do you cry?" you asked with a slight panic, you had not idea how to help her with this, you had never seen someone sad before.

She let out different higher pitched sound and shook before she looked up at you, tears rolling down her round cheeks.

"Oh (y/n), it's terrible! I'm so angry!" Emily cried.

"What's terrible? What did the Princess do? Are you hurt?" you start to look her over.

"No!" Emily cried, "It's Sera, and Adam, and Lute... They have done something terrible!"

You blinked, you had never heard her speak of her superior sister like that, and you new the First Man to be... a colorful character, but what could he have done? "What happened?"

Emily took a few breathes before looking up at you, "They have been allowing a yearly extermination on human souls in Hell to control the overpopulation down there... Adam has an army of angels that go down with him to kill and erase human souls!"

You sat back a little, taking in the news, "Wait... why... That does not make any sense... why would they do something like that?"

Emily let more tears fall, "It's how they control the overpopulation of souls, trying to keep them from thinking about uprising against Heaven... that's why Charlie was here. She's trying to redeem souls into heaven so that we would stop killing them. She-she's just trying to protect her people, and we have just been slaughtering them! For... centuries!"

You sat in silence as Emily continued to freak out and cry, this was the worst thing you had ever heard of. How could heaven allow something like this?! Sure, the sinners had all earned their place in Hell, and they needed to stay in their place... but the does not mean anyone should be erasing them!

"Who could have allowed this?" you ask quietly.

"Sera..." Emily snarled, you look up at her, and she looks at you... with anger in her eyes, it made you jump, "Sera allowed this it happen, and what's worse... she kept it from everyone! From the rest of the Elders... from me... Only Sera, Adam, and his army of angel exorcists know... The rest of us were in the dark..."

You just sat there on the floor next to her, trying to breathe, trying to work through the thoughts and feelings in your body, this was bad... this was... really bad. You never knew this try of bad could exist, not here, not in Heaven, and you felt it all over your body. Your chest felt tight, your thoughts were racing, everything was a blur.

You looked at the young angel next to you, "What do we do now, my lady?"

Emily's expression went serious and she sat up straight looking at you, "This can't be a secret anymore, we must tell everyone."

Your eyes widened, "E-everyone? Even the human souls? My lady... I don't know if..."

Emily got up, "Yes! Everyone! They have been keeping this secret from everyone! They are breaking one of God's base commandments! Now that we know we must tell the truth! Everyone must know!"

You get up to meet her, "But... that would cause an upheaval! What if..." you change to a whisper "What if this causes you to fall? Like Lucifer?"

Emily shook her head, "If something like this is what caused his fall... then maybe there is more behind his fall than they told us in the first place..." She looked at you, "After hearing Charlie... it's worth the risk... I need to do this. Are you with me, or not?" Emily grabbed your hands.

You froze in place. Do you defy Emily, your seraphim that you are sworn to serve and support? Or do you go against something that you know will make the elders unhappy, and risk both you and her falling? You knew this look on her face, there was not talking her out of it at this point.

You sigh, "Ok... I'm with you." She smiled and hugged you, and you hugged her back. You had not idea what was going to happen next, but you couldn't bear the thought of not supporting her. It's all you knew.

You spent the rest of the night planning with Emily on how you were going to get the word out to the people. Unfortunately for the both of you... Sera had been worried about Emily's outburst in support of Charlie and went to go check on her. Emily was not watching her volume, no matter how much you reminded her, so before knocking, she was able to hear Emily talking out some ideas out with you. With a heavy and broken heart, Sera went to go alert the rest of the Elders.

The next morning, you and Emily did not have a chance to start telling anyone before Emily was brought to stand trial before the Council of Elders. You were brought with to stand witness for the conversation you had with her. Emily fought and cried, angry tears running down her face as she pleaded for the safety and protection of the people of Hell, quoting how the Elders were breaking commandments. The Elders responded of how they were doing what they needed to do to maintain the order in Heaven, and Emily teared back about how they were only proving Charlie's point about "angel's getting to do whatever and remain in the sky" while the people of hell suffered by Heaven's hand. Sera warned Emily not to press but she didn't care, saying if this was the truth that she no longer wanted to be the Seraphim of Joy.

"If you don't stop this now, you may soon not be a seraphim at all!" one of the Elders warned.

Adam sat over on the side, grinning. He was quieter than yesterday, he was trying to play nice after his major slip up the day before when he revealed the existence of the exterminations, but he was still enjoying watching the drama. Sera looked over to you, eyes pleading with do something to stop this. You looked over at Emily. There was only one way you could see getting her out of this, it wasn't going to be pleasant, but it was all you could do.

You stood up and looked over to the council, starting to cry and shake, "I'm sorry! I'm so... so sorry, my great Elders!" You whole room was looking at your now, even Emily.

"Please... please do not blame her! It was my fault! I... I was so excited to see the Princess of Hell, know why she was here. I know I wasn't allowed at the meeting... but I still stood outside of the door and listened! I couldn't bear the news! I've gone mad! Emily came back and didn't want to talk about it... but I did! I made her! I filled her head with ideas of telling the people of Heaven the truth! The angels deserve to know! It's barbaric! All of you refused to listen to Charlie and I can't stand that!" you say grabbing your hair. "Please! Emily is innocent of everything besides being to close to me! Please spare her! Punish me instead!"

"(y/n) what are you doing?!" Emily cried.

"I'm telling them the truth, my lady! Don't try to cover this up for me. You've suffered enough!" you cried, flying down to the floor and standing in front of Emily, fanning out your wings to block her, "Punish me instead! I should fall for my madness! My lady Emily has done nothing wrong! Punish me for my sympathy for Lucifer and his daughter!"

Sera frowned, looked at the others, and shook her head, "What a shame, but not unexpected from you, unfortunately." That comment almost made you flinch, what did that mean? Sera looked to the others, who all nodded at her and looked at you with distain.

"Very well," she said, lifting a hand to prompt two other angels to remove Emily from the floor, leaving only you in the middle, all eyes on you. "(y/n), for your attempt of treason against Heaven and attempted corruption of a seraphim, you have fallen from Grace and will be cast into Hell."

You give Emily one last look as she screams, whispering a goodbye to her. A portal opens up in front of you, giving you a clear but distant view of the rings of hell. Intense fear flooded your body for the first time. You take a step back, only to be stopped by Adam who had flown over an landed behind you, a wicked grin on his face.

Behind you he whispered "See you on extermination day", before breaking off one of your wings and kicking you into the pit, the sound of your screams of pain mixed with his laughter as you began to fall.

What an absolute piece of shit.

Most of your fall was spent in searing pain from your one missing wing, the other three fluttering in the wind as hell grew closer, golden blood oozing from your new wound, your first wound ever. You cried the whole way... out of pain, out of fear, out of hope that you saved Emily from this fate, out of confusion...

As you got closer, you felt more pain sear through your body, but for a different reason. You watched as you hands stared to turn into black claws, horns sprouted from your temples, a tail lashed out behind you, eyes watering as they changed to red, some of the feathers of your wings burned red. More tears burned down your cheeks as you fell, mixing in with some feelings of... anger? You wish that Emily had not dragged you into this... but it was your job to serve her... and you did it until your falling day... Who knew what awaited you in hell. The second fallen angel in all of history...

You realized then, yes, would would be the second fallen angel, would Lucifer seek you out if he found out another angel had fallen? You wanted to avoid that at all costs. As the ground grew nearer, you knew you had two choices, use your wings to ease your fall and risk being seen, or tuck them away and have a much harder hit but hide your identity as an angel. You swallowed hard as you forced your wings to tuck away. It was something angels could do, but it was not common, as it was more comfortable to keep them out.

You were almost to the red floor of the Pride Ring. God Above, this was going to hurt... You braced yourself as you plummeted into the hard rock of the upper part of the ring, making a small intend in the ground from the length and power of your fall. Your body seared with more intense pain, bones were definitely broken, but by some grace you were still barely conscious.

After catching some amount of breath, you looked around. With as much information as you could process at the moment, it looked like you had landed on some old battle ground near the edge of the ring. At least some luck was still on your side. With one good arm and leg, you clawed and crawled your way across the red brimstone ground, leaving a trail of golden blood, before finding a pile of stones that were set in just a way that you could hide. Probably something someone had built for cover at some point.

With the last of your energy, you crawled into the hole, took off your robe, and stuffed it under your head as your felt yourself suck into unconsciousness.

_____________________________________________________________

Hello! Just wanted to let everyone know that this one will have less of a back and forth between Lucifer and y/n's point of view, it will still have that, but it will be a lot more focused on y/n until they meet. Also it might take a little before they meet, but we will get there! Let me know if you want added to the taglist!

Taglist:

@sapphireravensworld @cimadreamer @froggybich @randomstranger703 @tiredlillypad @melday0105 @btsgangleader @hawke1917 @gbshdhd @pandaquick @littleladydemon @wonderlandangelsposts @hulyenl @willow404

[kinkyniragi]

Your favorite Tommy stuff?

Okay, we have a clear winner! More Tommy content is coming your way 💥 Thank you for your vote! https://www.tumblr.com/kinkyniragi/781542410439262208/just-curious

So, what's up next? Chapter 7 of Until the Debt is Paid is almost done <3

Also, I’ve got a few new ideas swirling around in my head — Which one would you like to read next? (Descriptions of the stories below)👀✨

"The Amendment"

Maid stuff, a sequel to "Through the keyhole". After Tommy caught his new maid secretly watching him masturbate, he forces her to sign an “amendment” to her contract. The rules of Tommy’s special “amendment” are simple: she obeys, he rewards. Disobedience... has its own consequences.

"Dirty Hands"

OFC is the daughter of a police officer determined to bring down Tommy Shelby. While following the inspector, Tommy notices her — quiet, proper, and far too innocent for her own good. He decides to corrupt her, to use her as leverage. But her stubborn morality and almost angelic calm unsettle him. He wants to ruin her — yet she may not be as innocent as she seems.

"A Deal Sealed in Blood"

The tension between the Shelbys and a rival family is on the verge of exploding into bloodshed. To prevent a war, Tommy Shelby is forced into an arranged marriage with the rival’s daughter (reader). They despise the idea in different ways — but the families expect affection, smiles, and unity. In public, they kiss. In private, they clash. And somewhere between duty and desire, the hate begins to blur.

"Off Script: The Secret Peaky Blinders Behind-the-Scenes Diary"

A behind-the-scenes diary series about the growing tension — and chemistry — between Cillian Murphy and his new co-star (reader), who plays the female lead of a rival gang. Every day on set brings a new game of power, flirtation, and unscripted intimacy. Lines blur, both in the script and between them. What starts as acting soon becomes dangerously real.

@jbrownta @mythicalcowboyatheart @shelbybabysblog @simpfortoomanymen @moonbeamott @gothic-chinadoll

[stromuprisahat]

Siege and Storm- Chapter 23

Watching the Darkling work is always delight. *giggles*

Look around, Alina... One of the greatest advantages of nichevo'ya is the mess they leave behind. They're obviously conscious to some extent, but when you're food, you'll be torn apart without mercy. Effective and devastating.

I will do them no harm... This is so easy to interpret in several ways! The Darkling isn't promising anything, not a single lie uttered.

It's beautiful how easy is it to use truth and Alina's loneliness to weaken her determination to oppose him.

Fucker is intentionally hinting on naughty things to make Manly Man angry and drive home the point of him never being able to understand Alina.

*slow clap*

The horror of Genya's punishment is a part of the strategy. She wouldn't be brought in, were Alina to give up before this point.

What happens to traitors, who aren't also a bargaining chip?

What were the Darkling's further plans for Genya? Because even direct disobedience doesn't seem to be a reason enough to execute a person with such an (originally) unique talent.

... and it works. Using Genya's punishment as a warning example has the desired effect on Alina. No more fighting, capitulation.

"It's so horrible what he did..." NO. This is warfare 101. You force the other side to give up with losses as low as possible. And Genya chose her fate, when she disobeyed a direct order in middle of a fight. She could've died, instead her punishment was used to prevent further fighting and possible loss of more (loyal) lives.

The Darkling didn't stop them. Slaughter isn't the point. Alina's surrender is.

I've waged the war... Sure, it's a simplification, but not wrong.

Calling her minigroup "Second Army" will never cease to amuse me, but why not- Alina likes high stakes and fatalism. She doesn't care about those she cannot see, so let her believe she "killed" all of them. She'll blame herself anyway- the martyr she likes to paint herself as-, so why not use it purposefully?

It's also kinda sad Aleksander had to learn to pinpoint Alina's walking baggage to get her to listen.

Alina's in no position to lay down conditions, yet the Darkling indulges her. She has NO leverage, yet he's willing to let her set terms.

Some cruel tyrant.

[pursuitseternal]

“A Night with the Ascendant:” truths revealed and a delicious punishment is served

Ascended Astarion x F!OC (Lumina) |E| 5K

Summary: While the Master’s away, Lumina decides to take matters into her own urchin hands. Hooded and cloaked, she finds the book she seeks on the Lower City streets… but Lord Astarion finds her, too. She is willful and reckless and disobedient, and a fitting punishment is required.

CW: Grieving AA, Half-truths, manipulation, orgasm denial, Lumina fails her charisma and stealth rolls, “borrowing her bf’s clothing” for nefarious purposes, AA having too much fun for the first time in centuries.

Previous Ch | ao3 link | Masterlist

Chapter 4…

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Lumina was everything he ever dreamed someone could be—beautiful, willing, submissive. It was so easy to give her that final ingredient to remake her in his image, to dominate her so thoroughly. It shouldn’t have even felt like manipulation or deception to that matter, she drank the chalice of his blood so eagerly. He remembered the deep scarlet stain on those satisfied lips, the aftertaste of his power in the richness of his blood that lingered on her tongue.

But if she was so entirely his… why did it bother him to no end? He missed that edge of control, to compel her and weave his way into her brain like the beautiful marionette she had been. Where control and order once dictated his life, now all was replaced with… whims and desire.

With her smiles and her guile and her intelligence and her willfulness.

He hadn’t counted on such willfulness. Even if it was to insist on calling him hero. Hells. Heroes didn’t live forever with unrivaled power, needing to spend eternity numbing the pain of life. Heroes laid peacefully in their graves when all was said and done.

Graves like the five cut headstones that spread before him. They had never been this quiet, not when they were alive. The silence of the graveyard grinded at his resolve, eroding that perfect veneer of power and control crafted over two glorious centuries. He was weak right now, remembering the way his eyes would hurt as they rolled back every time Gale rambled… or the edge of sassiness in Shadowheart’s voice when she was peeved… or even Karlach’s hyena call of a laugh.

Instead there was only silence, the growth of moss on their stone tombs, and the rot of time on their remains, the same uncheck grinding of time that had swept them away and left him. Alone. Unaltered and untouched.

For the first time in ages, he stood in the wash of their memories, the ghosts of their voices and laughter and criticism and ferocity. In a moment, he would steel himself over once more, return to that visage of power and dominance and untouchability. But for now, he stood in silent remembrance, his damnable beating heart feeling the sting of emotions he had worked so hard to banish. Loss… grief… affection… desire…

A flash of bright blonde hair and crimson eyes passed through his mind. A tug at their bond that she was somewhere in the city, somewhere up to mischief and no good… if she was this petulant and unruly, why did he love her…

Love.

Hells dammit. He had remade her into something new, something even he had yet to experience in his centuries of vampirism—his Bride. But what was it she was remaking him into now?

Hungry for him, she paced between her suites and his sumptuous chambers. But there was one thing for which she hungered more—knowledge. What in the hells was she?

Every few turns around the room, Lumina paused at the window of his bedchamber, its arching frame overlooking the gardens, and the Lower City beyond. Creeping ivy trellised its way up the ancient stone walls. Every one of her urchin instincts screamed to escape—to reclaim the sun and discover all she could about her new abilities, to try to uncover more about her hero, her tyrant, and her love. She needed information, research.

She needed books. Or at least one. One to unlock what strange transformation had taken place to grant her safety from the sun like him.

How many times had she touched that green leather-covered tome, The Curse of the Vampyr? If only she could run to any book seller, Upper City, Lower City, surely she would find that book or… better yet… one that detailed the tether of a Master and Spawn. Fingers itched, mind whirred. She needed to taste her freedom, to learn what he wouldn’t divulge. Perhaps he would be impressed by her ambition, perhaps he would punish her for defiance.

But he wouldn’t begrudge her that freedom in the sun, not after all that she had just read about his past. Not when it was the same sweet prize he had sought and won to become the magnificent lord he was now.

He could be gone for hours, for all day, she decided. Sharp crimson eyes darted to his wardrobes packed with clothing. Practical clothing. Pants and tunics and cloaks. Maybe just… a quick rummage. Her light, little fingers danced over the rows of his garments, hoping to find something not too ostentatious or decadent. Black velvet trousers tied snug above her hips, a black silken chemise that wouldn’t reveal too much of her breasts with that low-dipped v cut—she was ready to climb and find her quarry.

Shoes slipped off, she knew it would be an easier climb barefooted, besides it’s how she had spent most of her time on the streets anyway. One leg out the window, and Lumina held her breath, that sunlight on her skin invigorated her. It bathed her, warmed her pale skin for the first time in weeks… it made every vein beneath her alabaster skin glow blue, it heated her bones and made her feel alive again.

Free again.

Emboldened by her freedom, she gracefully scampered down the vines. It was so easy to do, so glorious. She smiled to feel her feet in the dirt of the garden and vault over the stone walls back into the bustling streets of the Lower City.

Drawing the hood of his black cloak up over her head, she slunk in the shadows, surely a sight to behold. A small little girl, dressed in a man’s rich robes, stalking around like the urchin she was at heart. Bodies brushed against her on all sides, the pulse of the City, the bustling pace and breakneck ignorance of its populace for urchins like her… it would be so easy now to steal what she wanted.

Giddy, gleeful even, Lumina let her fingers dance into some fat vendor’s pocket to take their purse. It was just so easy, instinctive. Just a bump and an apology, and sure as Balduran’s balls, she was now one purse richer. Maybe a little weapon too… she smirked, mischievous and greedy. Just another helpless victim, another bump into her side and a mumbled apology… and now Lumina’s cool fingers closed around an elegant filigree hilt. She tucked its scabbard into her makeshift belt before continuing on to the closest book cart.

Her deft eyes skimmed the titles from beneath the canopy of her hood. Gold letters glint in the sun, her sharp eyes darting over every spine.

There… she gave a sigh of relief, the title she sought gleamed at her, brighter than a prized jewel. Stepping back, she eyed the cart vendor, a plump, stinking man who looked more interested in drinking than reading. She could practically smell the stale ale on his breath and scent the alcohol that tainted his blood, even from her distance.

Shaking her head, she tried to rid herself of these hypersensitivities, drawing back a pace until she couldn’t smell him anymore. Gagging, she tucked the purse of gold in her pocket; a man like that would be much more fun to rob than to waste her newly acquired money on.

All she had to do was wait…

After a few moments, he got up, lumbering around the corner, and Lumina smiled. Her undead heart would be racing with the thrill of the hunt, that rush of risk and reward, of being victorious or being caught.

Slinking to the far side of the cart, she pulled out the small green book, her quarry. Her steady hand began to slip it under her cloak until….

“What do you think you’re doing?” that stinking, sour breath was hot in her face as the cart keeper snatched her wrist and spun her around.

“Fuck,” Lumina cursed as fear gripped her soul and raced down her spine.

Out of practice, Little Light… she swore she could hear his mocking laughter in her head. Fuck, what would the Master say, she worried as she was dragged into the street.

“You wretched, dirty rat,” the keeper yelled in her face, spittle flying in her face and he yanked back her hood. Arresting the book from her hand, he flung her against the alley wall. “No one steals from me!”

“I have no need to steal,” Lumina lied, even as she caught herself against the brick wall. “My master is Lord Astarion Ancunín, and he will not like having his things manhandled thus.” She snapped, wrenching her hand from the man’s grubby fingers

More spit flew in her face as the man laughed, big and loud and rude. “Yeah sure, some hoity Council Member let his servant run in the streets barefoot to fetch books for them….”

“I fear the lady is right,” a silken purr rumbled from behind them both. Astarion stood, perfect in posture and confident in stance. “My Mistress is prone to such wild fantasies, wandering the street unshod, fetching books on drivel from half-brined booksellers…” Astarion turned up his nose and grimaced as he too took in the foul odor of the rotund man. “Beautiful women have their indulgences, and we must allow them their indulgences. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Astarion smirked, his silver brow quirked high on his forehead as he dangled a fat coin purse at the seller.

“Of course, my Lord,” came the reply as his fat fingers snatched it midair. “Lord Ancunín, I didn’t mean to…”

A withering, crimson stare was all it took to send the fat man fleeing back into the shadows.

“Come, Lumina,” Astarion grabbed her upper arm, firm but with a sickeningly sweet smile, “it’s time we got you home.”

With one last ditch effort, she snagged the copy of her desired book from the seller’s cart, a victorious grin on her pale face as she followed her master into the City’s fray.

Her little arm threaded through his, he walked her towards the Park, his head held high as if the woman on his arm didn’t look like some barefoot vagrant. Finally, he drew them to a stop beside the fountain. His crimson eyes leveled at her, Astarion’s brows furrowed. “Was it worth it, Little Light?” he asked, cold and yet casual in tone.

Lumina fought the urge to tremble. “My little shopping spree?”

“Thieving spree, you mean…” his brow quirked as he pulled out the purloined objects of her own efforts from his own pockets.. He pulled out her purse, her book, and her new little dagger carefully with a wicked, conceited grin, watching in amusement as she patted the places on her lithe, little body from where he had stolen them. “A rogue’s dexterity is not to be outmatched, no matter how desperate or eager you are…”

“Please give those…” she wanted to say more, but his other hand flew towards her face, planting a single finger over her lips.

And Lord Astarion smiled. “Ah ah,” he chided, “explain yourself first, and your punishments may be lessened.” His voice rippled with promise, a teasing and yet desirous tone lacing into his words. “Why does my newborn mistress, a spawn of several weeks now, need to conduct some… research of her own kind?” He set the purse and dagger in his pockets, flipping the pages of the little green book. Pausing, he locked eyes with her, licking his finger first, slow and deliberate, before turning to the next one. “What are you so eager to learn that you could not dare to ask your beloved Master?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” she braced her hands on her hips, head tilting up at him in a show of confidence. “I walk in the sun, I can smell things… hear things… I couldn’t before.”

“Such as?” came his nonchalant reply.

“That oaf for one, I could almost taste the effects of his tenday long bender,” Lumina tried not to wretch at the memory. “And then there was the moment where I heard your voice inside my head…”

Something in his gaze shifted, something veiled now lifted, as if he was also surprised. “Indeed,” he purred, thumbing another page of the text. “And you decided to be disobedient and break my rules to seek out this uninformed drivel?” He scoffed, “Not to mention violating a few laws for good measure?”

“If you just gave me answers, Master; if you just gave me my own coin and a dagger, I wouldn’t need to steal them.”

“Oh, pet, I can deny you nothing,” he purred, “unless you might end up harmed in the process. You’re fortunate I stumbled upon you when I did, Lumina, or else you would be rotting in some Flaming Fist cell by now….”

“Pugh,” she folded her arms, that stare growing more defiant. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Astarion couldn’t hide it anymore; his chuckle rumbling in the air between them. It was undeniable, her petulant spark, it made him grin just slightly, that youthfulness that he would have once been drawn to, instead of seeking a way to snuff it as he had done for centuries as Ascendant.

Perhaps he would indulge this spark, just a little more.

A wry look on his face, he extended the book towards her. “If you want it, it’s yours, but in exchange, you’ll be punished, my dear.”

Lumina narrowed her crimson eyes, weighing the cost. She smirked to flash her own fangs, “Alright, I’ll bite.”

Astarion rolled his eyes at her cheap humor. “Puns are beneath us, Lumina,” he scoffed, irascible in tone. “Perhaps I shall extend your punishment for such plebeian humor.”

“And just what will be my punishment?” she goaded, thumbing her way through her hard-won prize. “Once I finish my research, that is…”

“You’ll have your answers, but they aren’t found in that layman’s examination of vampiric bonds. You are a near-secret of our kind, and just as there has never been a Vampire Ascendant before me, there has never been a creation quite like you before.” His eyes darkened with lust and glimmered with impatience. “And there will never be another like you after, I promise.”

Then, his fangs glinted as he grinned wider. “But those answers will only come once I’m through with you. You wish to know your punishment?” He leaned in until his lips brushed the shell of her ear. “I'm going to make you scream my name until your voice gives out, Little Light.”

His form seemed to ripple, and with a snap of his fingers, they both burst into mist and flew from the Park.

A strange tingle on her skin, or what would have been her skin, coursed through her. Pure magic unmade her, shifted her until all that remained was essence. Wind rushed around her, the sounds of voices and the smells of the Park rushed past her consciousness. It was as if her very being was cradled in his arms. Astarion pushed into her, threading into the very fabric of her existence—everywhere, all at once. Inside her, on her, through her… nothing more tangible than the sensation of his power taking root at her core as he raced them both up his palace walls and into the window of his own chambers.

Gasping like one near-drowned, Lumina once again stood on her own two legs, on her own bare feet, facing his crimson stare of ire.

She winced, surely, he would be brutal, beat her and punish her for her insolence. He would make her scream, he promised, the thought of it making her back sting in anticipation of a lash.

As her old master would, she thought with a pulse of fear and disgust.

Astarion’s presence before snapped her out of that pit of self-loathing. For now, he just tilted his head and gave her that lazy, mischievous smirk. Long, skilled digits grasped her hand, pulling her against him to bring her finger into his mouth. With precision, his fang sliced into its pad, his tongue sucking the blood as it seeped. “Such sticky fingers need cleaning,” she heard him say, right into her mind, his mouth preoccupied and his eyes flashing a dangerous amusement at her shocked expression.

“What in the hells…” she gasped, the thought somehow making him smile around her bleeding digit.

“Oh, darling mistress, seems you have more and more to uncover by the second,” he purred, his voice now a caress in her mind, a tender brush up her spine to tingle her ear. He pulled his finger from her lips with a pop. His true voice was almost sticky with that ripple of danger and the lingering dregs of her blood. “But first, we must see to your punishment, my Light, as delicious as it might be.”

His grip on her waist was firm, guiding her towards his bed again. His teeth glinted as he grinned, that dark mischief shining in the crimson of his eyes. “By rights, you should be cuffed in a cell for thievery. I should know, I once, long ago, gave such sentences for urchins like you.”

Lumina caught it, just a glimpse, a far off look in his eyes, a dower frown, his mind recalling pieces of him so deeply buried by time and pain. Somewhere in her own chest, she could sense that grief, that ancient, nearly-forgotten longing. Then he turned away, and the feeling vanished.

“As your Master, I shall have to take matters into my own hands, I suppose,” he commented, reaching into his drawer, the one where he kept all sorts of things for play and punishment, Lumina knew. She heard his choice before seeing it, the heavy clanking of chains filling her with excitement and dread. “A nice pair of shackles will do, nothing elegant for my little thriving urchin of a mistress.” He rounded on her, the irons in his skilled fingers. “You know what to do, darling,” he just stared at Lumina, a challenge of a smirk on his full lips, eyes darting towards the bed.

Pausing, she waited for the tendrils of his compelling to take root, sought that shadowed presence to command her body, but they never did…

“Well, darling?” he just repeated, firmer and more agitated.

Lumina drew in a breath and moved to sit at the edge of the bed, her wrists in front of her, a smile growing on her face. He shed his decadent coat, his own silken shirt following to lie in a mess on the floor. His boots followed the same fate. “Now, Lumina, you seem rather youthful, bent on willful defiance, this need to discover who I once was and who you are now. Stuff of fools and children.” A chilling smirk on his lips, his eyes still sparked with a sense of mischief, the same she had found with increasing frequency in their fucking. “Since you insist on acting like a child, let’s play a game,” he smirked. “I will ask you a question, a simple one… and if you are correct, I’ll let you find your release…”

The implication as to her failure hung in the air, his hand firmly guiding her to lay in the center of his bed. Her shackles clanked as he drew her arms overhead and bound them to his headboard. His chuckle reverberated in her bones as he leaned to press a kiss on her pressed lips. “Now, here is your question… what are you?”

“If you had let me read my book…” she started to argue, but Astarion just shoved two fingers in her insidious mouth. His gag as effective and sudden, her tongue pressing against him, fighting for breath as he pumped his fingers slightly between her lips.

“Hush,” he smirked at her, condescending and delighted. “You are allowed one answer each time,” his smirk twisted all the darker, “and you just used your first one…” His hands splayed wide on her hips, pulling her taut against her restraints. Fingers dug into her ass, lifting her to rip off his own loosely fit trousers. Her pale legs writhed, rubbing together to already seek the friction she craved. “Ah ah,” he corrected with a low growl, “I’ll be the one to dole out your delicious punishment. Now hold still and take what’s coming to you.”

With that, he lifted her hips up, his mouth ready to lick her and devour that already dripping essence. Tongue parting through her folds, he lapped through her seam, teasing her, toying as he licked and sucked everywhere between her thighs but her hard little bud and her clenching channel.

“Master…” she whined.

He lifted his head slowly, eyes blown wide and dilated as he chuckled. “For what you are, my Light, you get the privilege of screaming my name as you beg and plead.” His tongue danced along the edge of her folds, sucking and nipping the flesh of her thighs until she bucked hard against him.

“Astarion…” she whined, nervous at first, as if unsure she truly had his permission for it.

“Louder,” he crooned his order, letting his breath alone tickle her clit.

“Astarion,” she whined full-throated this time, making him chuckle.

“That’s it, darling, you’ll grow sick of my name on your lips, soon enough, but for now, let’s drive you right to the edge….”

“Fuck!” she cursed, unable to hide her urchin-tongue as his finally swiped over her clit. Relentless, he swirled around it at last, making every nerve ending between her thighs burst into flame. She could feel her wetness leaking, summoned more by every pass of his mouth over her entrance.

But never in it.

“Please,” she yanked on her restraints, “your fingers too, please…”

He merely laughed into her folds, letting his tongue swirl and vibrate against her clit until she was gasping above him.

Then he sat back up, wiping the arousal off his chin with the back of his hand.

Lumina groaned and writhed, that wave of climax once so close, vanished just as quickly. Her little noises of frustration from her pale throat made him chuckle. He rose to his knees, a sinister and delighted smirk on his face. “So close, weren’t you, my darling?” he chuckled again, fangs peeking from his parted lips. “Care for another guess in our little game?” He tilted his head, a hand running through his shoulder-length waves of hair. “What are you?”

“Your obedient, loyal, loving spawn, master,” she answered dutifully. She smiled as he crawled closer, pressing his clothed hips against hers as he lowered into her.

“Tch,” he sucked his teeth, “closer, but still shy of the mark.” He ground his hips against that sopping apex of her thighs. The thick velvet of his pants was soon soaked by her, but he just gave that low, rumbling laugh. “Another round of punishment then, my sweet.” He yanked her by the hair, pulling her head back, his lips brushing her neck where it curved just right for him. “And you forgot to use my name, dear. Not master. Not when it’s just you and me…”

That grinding between her legs made her eyes water, just enough friction to drive her wild, but still not enough. It made her ache. Made her burn. Made her stare up into his face with utter desperation in her own crimson eyes as a few tears dripped down. “Astarion,” she whimpered, more pathetic sounding than she wished.

“Well, when you sound that remorseful, what kind of Sire would I be to deny you some of what you seek…” he crooned, an edge of victory in his voice, a shine of amusement in his gaze. Deft and quick, he unbuttoned his trousers, a low chuckle as he watched her strain against her shackles to watch. She practically drooled for him, her seam leaking in equal amounts of wet to finally feel that pressure inside her.

Gods, she was beautiful, wanting him.

“You’re so perfect, Lumina,” he growled, “and you’re so totally and utterly mine…”

Her shriek pierced the quiet of his palace, a heady mix in her tone of ecstasy and relief as he filled her to the hilt in one thrust. His breath was hot against her neck, his hands skating his nails down her sides, “But remember, my Light, you don’t get to come until I say you may…” His tone was venomous and playful, a promise and a dare all wrapped in the velvet notes of his voice. A slow, grinding pace he set, taking his time to savor every flutter of her walls. It would be quick, he grinned, letting his hips slowly roll into her, he didn’t have long to push her right to the edge once more….

“Think hard… my dear… just what are you?” his question rumbled in her ear, gravel in his voice making her shudder hard beneath him. He groaned, quickening his pace, his own need for release taking root. Easy, he warned himself, his eyes locked on her face, observing every clench of her jaw in bliss, every gasp she made as she grew closer and closer…

Just as her body began to buck and clench, his cock slipped out, his hand wrapped hard around it. His fist beating his length was good, but her cry of anguish was all the more exquisite, sending that burst of pleasure from his core to race through him as he came. Cum spewed out on her belly, her hips bucking and grinding before him as she bemoaned her fate.

“Fuck…” she cursed through clenched fangs, sweat dripping down her angelic face. “Balduran’s… balls…” she tried to clench her thighs together, but his hands pried them apart so easily.

That made him laugh, breathless and a bit exhausted through his open mouth. “Having met the legend myself, I doubt he would appreciate you speaking thus of his balls. And I certainly don’t approve of you speaking of anyone else’s either, pet…” his fingers stroked through her hair gently before giving her head a corrective yank. “My balls will just have to be enough for you for eternity.”

She stared at him, a mix of frustration and longing that set his heart racing again.

“Now, let’s try this question one more time for now, before I leave you to contemplate your choices, my love.” His gaze skimmed the sight of her half-naked in his bed, his own black silk shirt stained now from his seed and her sweat. “Think hard, my cunning Little Light, what… are… you?”

Lumina chewed her lip, her gaze flickering around his room, lost in thought as she considered her response wisely. “You said I was your… mistress… not your spawn, not your concubine…”

“That’s what I said,” he purred, sliding his fingers through his cum, gathering it on his fingers before he teased it into her folds. “My question, love, is what do you think you are now?” He let the slick sounds of his fingers inside her distract that train of thought she was clearly attempting to recover. “Well?” he insisted, catching her clit with his thumb and making her gasp another curse.

She seemed to relax, a serenity in her gaze, a softness around her mouth as she tilted her head most alluringly. “Yours… I’m yours,” she whispered, toneful and beautiful in its submission.

“Mmmm, a beautiful proclamation,” he crooned but withdrew his touch and stood from the bed, regardless. Flashing her a wicked smirk, he savored the look of devastation on her pale countenance. “While I thoroughly enjoy such a confession, it’s just… not quite the response I seek.” Fastening his trousers, he shrugged his shoulders, smiling twistedly like that arrogant bastard he truly was.

“Astarion, please!” she panted, wretched and devastated as she could only watch him depart.

He paused at his wardrobe, choosing a new shirt, sliding that crisp cream silk over his immaculate body as he turned one more time. “Don’t fret too long, my love. I’ll return soon. In the meantime, you can use your time wisely. Weigh your answers… Oh, and you can use this, if you can manage to open it, that is.” He tossed her that green-covered book, the title accusing her as it landed just within reach of her bound hands. The Curse of the Vampyre, indeed. He laughed merrily, low and rumbling in his chest. “I’ll see you later, I’m sure, darling.”

The thud of the door shutting behind him only spurred Lumina into action all the quicker. She would give him his answer and earn her release. Physically and carnally.

Hours it seemed creeped by, that little book her only distraction from the arch of her arms and the wet, lingering burn between her thighs. She awkwardly flipped pages, dropping it on her face from time to time when the shackles got in her way. Page after page revealed nothing new, and she cursed Astarion for being right, dreading how he would preen and gloat when she admitted defeat.

Food sources… seduction… vulnerabilities… that section no longer applied to her, she furrowed her brow. The creation of a spawn… the nourishment of her kind…

That made her hungry belly growl, and as if she wished it into existence, she smelled blood. The door creaked open, and Lumina fixed her gaze on the silver cup brimming with blood.

Only once that chilling laugh sounded from its bearer did Lumina glance at who held the cup.

“Morana,” she hissed fangs bared as she tried to hide her half dressed state.

“I just couldn’t resist the opportunity to replace a poor, freighted servant from entering the Master’s chambers to bring you your meal at his orders,” the tiefling’s dark eyes glimmered with hatred, her voice like vitriol as she sarcastically pouted and preened, “Is the Master’s Bride starving?”

“The… Master’s what?” Lumina went deathly still. There had been one line that book… the unknown characteristics of a Sire’s Bride or Groom. She had thought nothing of it an hour ago. “What did you just call me?”

[noa-ciharu]

★·.·´¯`·.·★ master post ★·.·´¯`·.·★

Noa || She/Her || 20+ || Aroace || Fic Writer || Ao3 || Twitter || Bluesky

BSD fanfics:

Fyolai:

Can’t sail under the false colors in shallow waters (Fluff, M rated, 3k)

Crimson snow (Hurt/Comfort, T rated, 7k)

Forbidden fruit is the sweetest (Smut, E rated, 8k)

Fruit on the vine (Angst, Dead Dove, Smut, E rated, 38k)

Five Minutes (Angst, Character Study, T rated, 4k)

Big things come in small packages (Smut, Humor, E rated, 8k)

Gift from the above (Humor, Fluff, T rated, 7k)

Nest is bird’s safe haven but that’s not what wings are made for (Slow Burn, Angst, E rated, 125k)

The first and the greatest punishment for a sinner is a conscience of own sin (Fluff & Angst, Hurt/Comfort, T rated, 7k)

Cup of coffee a day keeps the grumps away (Fluff, M rated, 3k)

Breaking Point (PWP, Humor, E rated, 3k)

Prolonged endurence tames the bold (Sexual content, Drama, E rated, 3k)

White nights, black dawns (Party mission, Drama, E rated, 68k)

Metathesiophobia (Hurt no comfort, Drama, T rated, 6k)

Mistakes make the best teacher (Smut, Fluff, Humor, E rated, 6k)

Primrose Path (PWP, E rated, 4k)

Only remedy for temptation is to yield (Fluff, Sickfic, T rated, 5k)

Terms & Conditions (PWP, E rated, 17k)

Love is four letter cage (PWP, E rated, 8k)

Knocking on heaven's door (Smut, Crack, 4k)

Love costs arm and leg (Humor, Drama, M rated, 8k)

Origin of town bicycle (Crack, Sexual content, 7k)

Sinners make the best saints (PWP, E rated, 10k)

Honeyed taste (Fluff, Humor, M rated, 4k)

Monday’s unraveling (Angst, Sexual content, E rated, 4k)

No greater punishment than condemning man burning with desire to eternal silence (Angst, Smut, Dead Dove, 37k)

Magic in bed is better off staying a metaphor (Humor, M rated, 5k)

Words are a weapon, use them advisedly (PWP, Humor, E rated, 15k)

Phantasm of Touch (UST, M rated, 4k)

Fyosig:

Half truth makes the greatest lie (Angst, Drama, T rated, 9k)

Afterhours (PWP, E rated, 7k)

Beginner's luck (PWP, Humor, E rated, 5k)

Morning light clarifies nothing (Fluff, M rated, 4k)

Curiosity killed the cat (PWP, E rated, 7k)

Thrill of the Gamble (PWP, Drama, E rated, 17k)

Even remedy can be addictive (PWP, Fluff, E rated, 8k)

Pulling a rabbit out of a hat (PWP, Humor, E rated, 13k)

Fyozai:

Everything is fair in love and war (Humor, fyokuni, T rated, 8k)

Fallen from grace (PWP, Dead Dove, E rated, 8k)

To contemplate is to look at shadows (Angst, UST, M rated, 9k)

Quickest way to someone's heart is through their rib cage (Slow Burn, Humor, fem!Fyo, 76k)

Chapter after epoligue (Angst, T rated, 2k)

Siglai:

Under the table (Smut, Humor, E rated, 3k)

Unwinding with a scoop (Smut, Humor, E rated, 8k)

Sigzai:

If there’s a will, there’s a way (Humor, E rated, 5k)

Thirty minutes (Fluff, T rated, 4k)

The Gamble (Character Study, T rated, 1k)

Others:

While the World is burning (fukufyo, PWP, 6k)

Viper in bosom (fukufyo, Angst, Character Study, Smut, 5k)

Written in between the lines (odanog, Angst, 5k)

Testing the waters (Dazai/fem!reader, Fluff, 3k)

Idle mind is the Devil's workshop (Shibufyo, Drama, Slow burn, 11k)

The greatest loss is what decays inside a living one (Fyovan, Angst, 6k)

Precognition (fyosiglai 3some, E rated, 22k)

Obedience is act of faith, disobedience rebel of desperate (Fyovan, PWP, 7k)

Quitting cold turkey only strokes the ego (Fyolai/Fyozai, Humor, Drama, Smut, 65k)

Catharsis of destruction (fukufyo, PWP, 6k)

Reaching towards (Akuatsu, Hurt/Comfort, T rated, 3k)

[angelthefandomobsessed]

A Potion for a Golden Afternoon - Floyd x Riddle - Chapter 1

Riddle had a plan. Sticking to it should have been easy, so why must his heart ache?

Or: Riddle joins the fish mafia five years after graduation.

ஓ๑♡♡๑ஓ

“Keep your head above the water, ‘kay?”

With that, Floyd strode off, hands in his pockets. Riddle was left alone by the door, which he hurried through, eager to escape the cloying feeling that had clamped around his chest.

No matter how far he marched, though, he couldn’t escape it. He could never quite shake off the feeling of those eyes, yellow and grey, fierce and soft, like a canary thrashing in its cage.

ஓ๑♡♡๑ஓ

(Link to AO3: A Potion for a Golden Afternoon - Angel_Ashido - Twisted-Wonderland (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own])

Chapter 1:

When Riddle graduated Night Raven College he had felt, for the first time in years, alone. His internship had posed no major issues - he was praised as a prodigy and offered a full-time position at the hospital he had been working at. That was to be expected, as was his polite refusal of the offer. Riddle was already spoken for. He would follow in his mother’s footsteps, become as successful as she was, cure all manner of magical maladies, marry a respectable young lady, further the Rosehearts line, and instil upon his children the obedience that he had been gifted.

He had been raised to obey, so of course he had no qualms about this arrangement. Wanting more was selfish. In fact, the act of wanting more was a ridiculous, indulgent fancy, and he couldn’t possibly turn away from the comfortable life his mother had worked so hard to secure for him.

Riddle couldn’t see Trey’s face when he explained his plans to him, but he could hear the disappointment in his voice crackling down the phone line. After that, he didn’t bother giving Ace or Deuce the details. He knew what his underclassmen would say, so what was the point?

Rather than stretching his final day at Night Raven College out, Riddle excused himself from their graduation party early. Kalim had clasped Riddle’s hands and wished him well - told him to keep in touch too, which Riddle could only nod at. He didn’t trust his voice to carry the way he wanted it to, disobedient as it had been lately.

Before he could slip away he felt a hand clasp around his shoulder, soft enough for him to shake off if he wanted to.

“Riddle, may I have a moment?”

He didn’t need to turn around to know it was Azul. Riddle took a short breath, all too aware that Azul would be able to feel the severity of a full-on sigh, before shaking off the merman’s hand and turning on his heel. Azul looked put together as always, but there was something in his expression that seemed serious. 

“What is it?” Riddle asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

A gloved hand lifted to the bridge of Azul’s nose, pushing his glasses up. “I know this may be a long shot, but I would be a poor businessman if I didn’t at least ask this of you...”

“I have no desire to make a contract with you, Azul.”

Azul offered a dry chuckle rather than a denial. “In that case, how about I extend to you an… open offer, of sorts?”

Riddle pressed his teeth together and focused on the pressure before he answered, “If you think that I am the sort to fall for your graceless schemes, then you’re-”

“Please, Riddle, just hear me out. As you know, I have plans to build a hospitality empire here on the land. Your propensity to abide by the rules would be a boon to me. Staying on the ‘straight and narrow’, as they call it, isn’t in my nature.”

“What exactly are you getting at?” Riddle asked.

“If you ever find that your path is muddied, or growing wearisome, know that you can find freedom with Jade, Floyd and I.”

It was as though Riddle could hear his own brain screeching to a halt at that. Since when had Azul Ashengrotto cared about how ‘wearisome’ his life was? Riddle would sooner jump into the depths of the ocean without a water-breathing potion than fall into their group.

“I don’t know what you think you’re implying, but you would do well to stop that line of thinking. Save your concerns for the people you’re planning to swindle, Azul.” With that, Riddle turned on his heel. 

It was never going to be that easy, though. Jade and Floyd had, at some point, found themselves standing behind Riddle.

“It is best to keep a variety of contacts, no?” Jade asked with his signature painted-on smile. From the pocket of his ceremonial robes, he produced a business card - ivory with glistening golden decals depicting conch shells and swirling waves.

“Hey, Goldfishie, tryna swim off without sayin’ goodbye isn’t very nice. You wanna stay pals with us, right?” The corners of Floyd’s eyes were crinkling with glee. 

“Step aside,” Riddle ordered, hand falling to his magical pen.

“Now, now, no need to resort to violence,” Azul placated. “Just take the card and we’ll be on our merry way. Then you shall never have to speak to us again if that is your wish.”

Riddle glowered at the card before snatching it. Jade’s smile grew, allowing Riddle to catch a glimpse of his too-sharp teeth.

“Yay~ Goldfishie really will miss us!” Floyd sang.

“I guarantee that you are the last people I’ll miss.” Riddle slid the card into his pocket, knowing that fighting them on the matter wouldn’t end well. He couldn’t sense any spells on the business card, so he could safely dispose of it once they were out of eyeshot. They would be none the wiser. “If that’s all, then I really must be going. Good luck with… whatever it is you are all planning to do.”

“Goodbye, Riddle. Good luck to you as well,” Azul offered with a wave and a smile. A smile that sparkled but lacked sincerity, Riddle thought, but chose not to comment on.

Jade gave Riddle a nod of acknowledgement before skulking off with Azul. Floyd didn’t follow the rest of his group, instead lingering in front of Riddle, unsettling mismatched eyes fixed on him.

“Floyd, I’m not in the mood for-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I just wanted to say…” Floyd reached out and set a finger under Riddle’s chin, lifting it up with far more delicacy than he had ever expected from him. Riddle felt his breath catch and his cheeks heat. It was as though the winds from the Scalding Sands had descended upon them, parching his throat with its dry heat, forcing him to squirm.

Riddle had once read a dictionary for fun, yet he could recall none of its contents in that moment.

Words never seemed to escape Floyd, however. With an airy little laugh, he squeezed Riddle’s chin with his thumb and said, voice low as though he was sharing a secret: “Keep your head above the water, ‘kay?”

With that, Floyd strode off, hands in his pockets. Riddle was left alone by the door, which he hurried through, eager to escape the cloying feeling that had clamped around his chest.

No matter how far he marched, though, he couldn’t escape it. He could never quite shake off the feeling of those eyes, yellow and grey, fierce and soft, like a canary thrashing in its cage.

—

His perfectly planned life never came to fruition. A cruel whim of fate must have brought that memory to the surface of his mind - the memory of golden detailing, a phone number and an address, corners crinkled from time. It had been five years since Riddle had seen Azul, Jade and Floyd. Riddle only realised that he was crying when it became too difficult to make out the numbers. He had always found comfort in numbers - they were neat, even when they were sliced into decimals and warped into letters, easily understandable to anyone who went through the correct processes.

It was raining too. Riddle had to huddle in a bus shelter, angled away from the harsh, diagonal downfall, desperate to preserve one of his only lifelines. 

The phone number was probably defunct. Either that, or Azul was rotting in a prison somewhere. Riddle would try to reach out, only to be disappointed by a dead phone line. Then, he would crawl back home and stop fighting the inevitable.

Maybe he could find a way to numb the constant ache in his heart. There were all manner of potions at the estate, locked inside of pretty boxes. Ingredients for new concoctions, too. Golden kelp, mermaid tears, liquid fire… Perhaps a brew like that would bring Riddle peace.

After mentally running through the first three pages of The Advanced Potionology Handbook Volume Two, Riddle took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and dialled the number.

One ring.

Sleep potion. Lavender, marmalade, lemon balm, skullcap, chamomile. Steep all ingredients and stir well. Best served as a tea.

Three rings.

Potion to mend a broken heart. Peppermint, mandrake root, turmeric, holy basil. Crush the peppermint, dice the mandrake root, and channel light magic as you combine the herbs. Warning: May cause lapses in memory.

Three rings. Riddle’s fingers began to tap against his bag.

Water breathing potion. Conch sh-

“Hello. You have reached the executive line of the Ashengrotto Corporation, how may we be of service?”

Riddle’s eyes widened at the sudden burst of sound.

“Ah, hello. I was hoping to get in contact with Azul Ashengrotto,” Riddle spoke, trying to channel the poise and dignity of the Queen of Hearts.

Azul, you had better not be dead in a ditch somewhere, Riddle told himself, clenching his fist.

“I see… May I take your name, please?”

There was a palpable sense of scepticism in the speaker’s voice. Riddle felt half-inclined to give up then and there, but it was dark, he was cold, and he was tired of folding.

“Riddle Rosehearts.”

There was a sound of rapid clacking on the other end of the line, and then-

“Oh! Mr. Rosehearts, thank you for getting in touch. I might be able to patch you through right now, as Mr. Ashengrotto’s schedule is open. Please, wait one moment.”

The wailing of a saxophone erupted from Riddle’s phone, forcing him to hold it a short distance from his ear. He hadn’t been laughed off the call, which seemed a promising sign.

After a few minutes of shivering, in which Riddle eyed each passing vehicle with uncertainty, the hold music came to an abrupt stop.

“Is that you, Riddle?” asked a voice that Riddle had never expected to hear again.

“Yes, it is.” And then, in spite of his current situation, Riddle felt compelled to ask, “Have you been keeping well?”

“Business is well, therefore so am I. Since you have reached out after such a very long time, I assume that you are in need of something? Whatever it is you require, I will do my utmost to assist you,” Azul swore. His suave, carefully calculated charisma transported Riddle back in time, to a place that felt so far away that it may well have been a dream.

Was he really about to do this? Sinking to Azul’s level was…

Well. It was his best option.

“Five years ago, I believe you offered me a job?” Riddle asked, wanting to ensure that he hadn’t misunderstood Azul’s words.

“Indeed I did.”

“I have found my schedule free, and I am in need of a place to stay.” Riddle sank his teeth into his lip, fighting the urge to start crying again. “Can you offer me a position that might benefit the both of us?”

Azul made a pantomime of what Riddle could only describe as thinking noises.

“Yes, I believe I have something in mind. Where are you currently?”

Thus began the process of shipping Riddle over to Maquillaville in the Shaftlands, where his life would finally begin.

ஓ๑♡♡๑ஓ

The beginning of this chapter was left abandoned in my drafts for over a year. I wanted to write something, but nothing seemed right. That was, until I went back to this and finished it off. I hope to continue it in the near future, alongside my other ongoing TWST fic.

My asks are open to fic requests or general discussion, for anybody interested.

(I would also like to quickly ask that you check out my post here about my friend's GoFundMe, if you have the time, please, thank you!)

If you enjoyed this, leave a comment to force the writing gremlin that lives in my brain to keep smacking its keyboard.

Read chapter 2 is here

[shiyorin]

The Inquisitor knows about yandere astartes, it won't end well

Inquisitor [REDACTED] report on yandere Astartes (????)

+++ CLASSIFICATION: [LOCK]

+++ CLEARANCE: Obsidian

+++ ENCRYPTION: [LOCK]

+++ DATE: 327.M38

+++ AUTHOR: Inquisitor [REDACTED], Ordo Malleus 

+++ SUBJECT: INVESTIGATION INTO SUSPECTED GENEFLAW AFFECTING ADEPTUS ASTARTES SUBJECTS ACROSS ALL CHAPTERS AND FOUNDINGS

+++ EYES ONLY HIGHEST TRANCHESINQUISITORIAL CASE FILE [EXCISED]

Summary of Findings:

Initial reports of this suspected "Geneflaw" first reached my conclave several terran years ago. Astartes assets deployed to war zones began exhibiting highly erratic behaviors and perverse compulsions unbecoming of the Emperor's finest warriors.

Behavioral divergences included:

Unnatural emotional outbursts and loss of emotional mastery

Uncontrollable sexual urges and deviant acts

Possessive, clingy behaviors violating sacred chains of command

Irrational self-destructive and anti-imperial actions driven by object fixations

At first, these cases seemed sporadic and isolated across different Chapters. However, as more deplorable incidents piled up, a clear pattern emerged. Something grievous had gone wrong on a fundamental level.

Excerpted examples of documented cases:

[REDACTED] - BLOOD ANGELS CHAPTER Audio log of Sanguinary Priest [REDACTED]

"Some dark curse has been visited upon our Chapter. A growing number of my battle-brothers have become… afflicted with wanton hungers. No mere physical needs, but all-consuming fixations on certain mortals within our care."

"They will stop at nothing to "claim" these individuals for themselves, body and soul. Any attempt at intervention results in unthinkable acts of disobedience and violence…"

[SAMPLE ENDS]

[REDACTED] - BLACK TEMPLARS CHAPTER Thought downloading from captured Chaplain [REDACTED] upon interrogation

"The time for restraint is at an end. I can bear this throbbing in my soul no longer! She must know the depth of my unfettered desire, the fever pitch of my infatuation. If she does not return these longings, I shall shatter worlds until the God-Emperor take pity!"

*Interrogator's Note: [NEUTRALIZE]

[REDACTED] - EXCORIATOR CHAPTER Recorded pict-captures from helm-cams during incursion on [REDACTED]

-Extreme Battlefield Fraternization between crusaders and human auxiliaries -Acts of exhibitionism and self-mutilation by crusaders -Systematic execution of any battle-brother expressing disgust at above actions -Final pict: [REDACTED]

The list of astartes goes on. Worse, there appear to be no patterns in age, founding, homeworld or even primarch genealogy. These repulsive behaviors are emerging across every Adeptus Astartes chapter at random. The Imperium teeters on the brink of an catastrophic, gene-coded crisis.

Research into potential countermeasures and remedies continues. However, my conclusions thus far firmly advocate an extreme response to contain this threat.

RECOMMENDED ACTIONS:

1) Immediate executions for any Astartes subject exhibiting Geneflawed behaviors. No exceptions.

2) Full and systematic extinction-level viral bombings against all potentially compromised Chapters and fleets.

3) Pre-emptive destruction of all Astartes gene-seed repositories, along with any Adeptus Mechanicus factions and forge worlds implicating in its creation or study.

Only through the complete erasure of this genetic stock can the essence of the Adeptus Astartes be preserved for the inevitable darkness yet to come.

The Emperor's work must be done, no matter how abominable the means required.

I await your tribunal's final judgment on this matter.

Thought for the Day: "There is nothing to be gained through mercy, only fleeting weakness and eventual damnation."

-Inquisitor [REDACTED]

[awkward-tension-art]

Viral Vector Chp.3 (Echo x Reader)

Chapter 2. Chapter 4.

Data

TW: Tarkin being an ass, Omega being cute, Galactic Empire, Swearing, mentions of a fight, reader insert, mentions of medical procedures, Reader is gender neutral, Reader a medical scientist, Echo x Reader, a bit of a slow-burn though

You were in a rush. 

Live rounds. LIVE ROUNDS!? IN A TEST!?

What game was Tarkin playing?

You had been resting, finally closing your eyes to sleep when Echo commed you. They had been tested rather than punished. But that test had turned potentially dangerous when the training droids started using live rounds. 

Wrecker had been hurt, a bolt hitting him square in the shoulder. 

You gathered some bandages and bacta and made your way to the squad's barracks. However, your steps finally slowed. Down the hall was Nala Se, Lama Su and Tarkin, behind the former was Omega. She kept pace, following closely behind them.

You followed, keeping your head down. There was an intense drive to keep that little girl safe. 

And she wouldn't be safe anywhere near Tarkin.

The three of them had turned, entering one of the Cloning wings. Before the doors closed, you slipped inside, pretending to do work. Your datapad was up to your face, and you acted as though you were inspecting some of the developing clones in their tubes. 

“Extraordinary, aren't they?” The Kaminoan scientist spoke, voice flat and calm. 

“That remains to be seen,” Tarkin responded, looking directly at a developing fetus in its tube. He then turned, facing those behind him, “Tell me about Clone Force 99.” His admiral kept his hands behind his back. 

Nala Se answered him, “They are medically defective clones whose cellular mutations enhanced traits desirable in a soldier.”

Your eyes were on Omega, she was technically a clone. How far that mutation went, you didn’t know. So far, the only difference is that she was a little girl. 

But sometimes, when she turned, or spoke, or moved, you saw the cadets in her. When she grew up, she’d be capable, just like them. 

There was a sense of pride in your chest.

Tarkin’s cold eyes went to Omega, “How many of these enhanced clones do you possess?”

Nala Se answered again, “Five are all that remain.”

Now, there was fierce protectiveness in your heart. Stay away from her, you hydro-snake. You thought bitterly. 

Lama Su stepped forward, now deciding to speak, “They could be an asset to your new Empire.”

Tarkin didn’t seem convinced, his stare was now on the Prime Minister, “Yet reports indicate they exhibit a concerning level of disobedience and disregard for orders.”

“A side effect of their mutation.” Nala Se cut in, trying to reason with him. 

Omega looked between the scientist and Admiral. She seemed so out of place among them. 

“Yet one that has never hindered the completion of their missions.” Lama Su stepped forward as he explained. 

“Then they executed Order 66?”

Rig. 

Your lungs tightened. 

“Since both the Jedi General and Padawan on Kaller were eliminated, one would assume.” The Prime Minister seemed nervous. Clearly he was anxious about the idea of Kamino being unneeded by the new Empire. 

“Assume nothing. Only the general's death is confirmed.” Tarkin interrupted him, “A counter-report, filed by one of their own, says the Padawan escaped.” He turned back to the tube containing the growing clone, “Let us see where the loyalty of these clones truly lies.”

Omega looked nervous. And so were you. You had to warn them. Silently, you slipped from the Cloning Facility. Once you were in the hall, you rushed to their barracks. 

“Live rounds? They used live rounds! On us!” 

You heard Wreckers voice through the door. He was angry, clearly. There was a bang, sounding like he slammed his fists on the table.

“We were there, Wrecker. We know.” Tech chimed in.

Echo spoke next, “I tried to warn you about Tarkin.”

Your hand hit the button and it opened, revealing all of them looking worse for wear. 

“Who's that Imperial snake think he is?” Wrecker huffed, pausing when you approached with your bag of medical supplies. 

Crosshair rolled his eyes as you began to check the larger clone over, “Stow it, already. You got shot. It happens all the time.”

“There's a fundamental difference between taking fire in battle and being used for target practice.” Tech interrupted, facing the sniper.

Hunter finally spoke, “Are you alright, Doctor?”

Your eyes must’ve given something away. You shook your head as you secured a bacta patch to Wreckers shoulder, “Something…is wrong. Seriously wrong.” You responded, “Tarkin is trying to do something with all the clones. But I don’t know what.”

“What do you mean?” Echo asked, taking a step closer to you. 

“He wants clone medical files. And now he’s talking about a test of loyalty.” Your words were shaky, “I..I don’t know what's going on.”

Why couldn’t you calm down?! Ever since the clone troopers turned and shot Rig, your body has been on fight or flight. 

The ARC trooper put a careful hand to your back, “Do you think we’re in danger?” 

You nodded, looking at your trembling hands, “I think he’s targeting you all…I don’t know why.” 

Echo moved his hand from your back to hold your hand. His grip was strong, yet kind and reassuring. You looked up, and his pale brown eyes held concern, “That explains the live rounds during the test.” He mumbled.

“Let it go.” Crosshair practically groaned in annoyance. 

“Hey! We aren’t dummy droids.” Wrecker snapped.

“That much we agree on,” Tarkin’s voice caused your heart to drop. 

Echo swiftly let go of your hand and stood at attention like the rest of his squad. 

You scrambled back, staying out of the way. Luckily, the Admiral didn’t seem to pay you any mind. 

“That was quite an impressive display.” Tarkin stated flatly, walking down the small steps into the barracks. 

Hunter watched him carefully, “Didn’t have much choice.” 

“Our new empire may have methods which seem a bit unorthodox, but so does this squadron.” The older man inspected each of the clones, “Both certainly have their merits.” He turned to nod to Hunter before carefully looking over Wrecker, “Nala Se speaks quite highly of her five enhanced clones. She claims you're more capable than an army.”

Understatement. You thought to yourself silently. 

The squad’s leader did well to pick up Tarkin’s intentions, “You have a mission for us, sir?”

“Indeed,” The slimy Admiral turned around to speak to him, “We have tracked a group of insurgents to the Onderon sector. They must be dealt with.”

Echo perked up, “What sort of insurgents?” Already he was mentally preparing for the mission. 

“Separatist forces intent on keeping the galaxy at war.” Tarkin explained bluntly, “If you neutralize this grave threat, you will be looked upon most favorably as I assess the needs of the Imperial Army.” He stated, rather coldly in your opinion. He didn’t even bother to bid the squad farewell before stepping up the stairs and walking out to the hallway. 

Once he was out of sight you visibly deflated. 

“We need to gear up,” Hunter nodded to you, “Try and find out what you can.”

“But keep yourself safe.” Echo chimed in, “We can talk when we get back.” He put his hand on your shoulder in comfort.

You missed how Tech perked up, noticing the ARC troopers change in attitude with you. He remained silent however, not finding the benefit of saying anything.

“Just…be careful,” You looked up at him, “Please…”

“We can handle it.” Hunter put a hand on his hip, “Whatever gets thrown at us.” he motioned for his team to follow. The squad couldn’t waste anymore time. They had to gear up and go on this mission the Admiral wanted. 

You bid them good luck and returned to your clinic. Once you were at your desk, you furrowed your brow. Your gut was telling you this was wrong. 

Everything is so….wrong. 

Tarkin wanted clone health files…

Why? What could he need them for? Assessing the clones' health? Their genetic data? See how useful they could be to this new Empire? What if he found their health lacking? Would the clones be decommissioned? Reconditioned? 

…you refused to give them to him.

Your hand opened a drawer and wrapped around a datachip. You had plenty of them, you were a scientist after all.

There were nearly countless health files on the clone troopers. Beyond millions. You’d need more than just the one chip in your hand. Not to mention the couple years of your own research into anti-aging medicine. 

You got to work. The first set of files you saved was everything involved in your clinic. Those would be the easiest to get afterall. That was your system. They were your patients. Everything was yours.

Next was your research. You’d be damned if Tarkin got his slimy hands on your work. 

Your clinic doors opened, causing you to jump. 

Omega approached, “What…are you doing?” Her brown eyes were on you, wide and curious.

You looked at her. She was so innocent. So naive. But could she feel the danger? The anxiety? 

“I’m saving all the data I can.” You stepped away from your desk, kneeling to her eye level, “I don’t trust Tarkin. I don’t trust Nala Se…So I’m saving all the data I can on these datachips.” Your palm opened, revealing the pieces of pure data and files, “Omega…Go to Clone Force 99…warn them. ask to go with them. Tell them I sent you. Get off of Kamino.”

They’d think you're paranoid. But you couldn’t risk this little girl. Every cell in your body told you there was danger around.

She nodded, “Ok…But what are you going to do?”

“Whatever I can.” You responded, “Now go.” 

Once she was out of your clinic and you were alone, you returned to your desk. There were still some files you needed to save. Halfway through the download, it hit you.

How far were you going to help the clones?

If you stole this data, you’d be arrested.

You weren’t one of them. You treated them, yes. They were your patients. But you were a scientist. You weren’t a member of the GAR. You would always be an outsider to them. 

…Echo never looked at you like an outsider.

Oh…Echo.

You liked him. Cared for him deeply. There was affection for him you didn’t have for the others. A feeling in your heart whenever he looked at you. A certain happiness whenever you saw him smile.

Download complete. 

You paused before grabbing the datachip. 

How far would you be willing to go for Echo?

Your hand wrapped around the chips and you put them in your pocket.

[sergiosimptellitto]

Ecce: Femina

Chapter 16: Until her

Basilicata, Southern Italy — 1950s

He was born on a Sunday, the twelfth and final child of a worn-out woman who had screamed herself hoarse and then gone silent when they laid him on her chest.

"Gioffrè… Dio ce lo mandi buono."

Let God send this one gentle, she had whispered.

But gentleness was a rare thing in the hills of Basilicata.

The house was small, carved into the side of a stony ridge. His mother, Lucia, did laundry until her fingers split in the cold and cooked over a flame that never seemed to warm. His father, Filippo, had hands like bark and a voice like thunder. He was not cruel—not exactly—but he had survived war and famine and too many sons. He wasn’t made for tenderness.

By the time Geoffredo was born in 1953, all softness had been worn out of the family. He was raised on scraps: scraps of food, scraps of affection, scraps of language. The older boys fought each other for place at the table; he learned early to be quiet, to be helpful, to vanish when he wasn't wanted.

But Nonna saw him.

Old, bent, always smelling of rosemary and mothballs, she was the one person who touched him without irritation. She called him il piccolo santo—the little saint—not because he was holy, but because he wanted to be.

She taught him prayers. He learned the rosary before he could read.

At four, he knelt beside her every night.

At five, he corrected her Latin.

At six, he wept during Lent and asked why Jesus had to die so badly.

When he was seven, he said he wanted to be a priest.

The Church as Escape

The parish priest was ancient, with parchment skin and an iron spine. He smelled like incense and bitter wine, and Geoffredo idolized him.

Every other man in Basilicata broke rocks or skin or silence. But Don Sergio held power with whispers. When he walked through the village in black, people bowed their heads. Even Filippo—his own father—tipped his cap and muttered padre as he passed.

Geoffredo wanted that.

Not the power, not then.

He wanted the safety of it.

The silence of stone walls.

The promise that if he gave enough of himself—if he was good enough, holy enough, pure enough—then maybe he wouldn’t be invisible anymore.

Maybe God would look down and see him.

Seminary

They sent him to seminary at fourteen.

It was cold and cruel. They called it formation, but it was closer to obedience training. The boys were graded on their posture, their Latin, their penmanship, their chastity. Any hint of pride, sloth, disobedience, vanity, sexuality—was scoured out.

He was small, clever, fervent.

They loved him.

They beat the softness out of the others, but not him. Geoffredo made himself hard without being told. The more they demanded, the more he gave.

He fasted until he fainted.

He knelt until his knees bled.

He learned to confess not just sins, but thoughts, until his interior life was scrubbed down to nothing.

But sometimes—late at night, under thin wool blankets—he would dream of hands in his hair. Of warmth that did not hurt. Of something he couldn’t name.

And in the morning, he’d rise early and say five Ave Marias and hit his own palms with a switch.

Just to be safe.

Just in case.

Theological Perfectionism

By twenty, he spoke Greek, Latin, and Hebrew. He could quote the Church Fathers in his sleep. But he was no mystic.

Geoffredo was a builder—he built walls, logic, doctrine, order. He didn’t trust emotion. Emotion was the crack where desire slipped in. Emotion was the undoing of saints.

He swore celibacy like a blood pact.

He meant it.

The Priesthood

They ordained him with oil and Latin and a silver ring. He kissed the bishop’s hand. He told himself he had arrived.

But there was a problem.

He had no real friends.

He had no family left—his mother died while he was away, his brothers scattered or estranged.

The parishes sent him to were cold, temporary. He moved every few years.

People listened when he spoke—but nobody knew him.

Geoffredo lived like a ghost, burning with passion for God, but with nowhere to put it.

No intimacy.

No touch.

No soft place to rest his head.

Until now.

Until her.

Seminary Years — Southern Italy, 1968

At fifteen, Geoffredo Tedesco had never looked at a girl and felt desire.

He had felt curiosity, yes. Admiration. A strange ache, now and then, when he passed a mother carrying a child and thought That could have been mine to protect.

But not lust. Not longing. Not that burning the other boys whispered about under their breath at night, hissing with shame and fascination.

Chastity?

It was a given.

He was born for it. Called.

The church was his bride.

He had the body of a sparrow and the discipline of a soldier. When other boys snuck magazines under their beds or eyed the cleaning women in the corridor, Geoffredo wrote Latin prayers in the margins of his schoolbooks. He fasted when no one asked him to. He washed his face with cold water every morning because it made his skin feel clean in a holy way.

He didn’t sin.

He didn’t even think about sin.

Not until he turned sixteen

The Flagellations Begin

He started with a hairbrush. Just on the thighs.

A few strikes. Enough to make the thoughts stop.

When the thoughts didn’t stop, he escalated.

A thin reed from the olive trees near the rectory.

Then cords.

Then whips.

It wasn’t ritual, not yet.

It was panic. It was terror. It was desperation.

He hadn’t done anything wrong—only felt.

But feeling was worse.

Feeling made it real.

So he offered the pain as a sacrifice, told himself he was emptying his body of all that was weak, all that was unholy.

He wrote prayers while blood ran down the backs of his knees.

He grew sharper. Stricter. He began seeing sin in softness itself—in comfort, in warmth, in idleness. In beauty.

He kept his eyes down when women came to Mass.

He avoided mirrors.

He wasn’t stupid.

That was the worst part.

Geoffredo Tedesco was clever. He was a gifted boy, the kind of child who taught himself to read before school ever started, who memorized full chapters of scripture before his tenth birthday. His hands were small but capable, precise; he fixed broken clocks and re-bound old hymnals for fun.

He wasn’t stupid. But he was innocent.

The kind of innocence that’s bred, not born—cultivated like a fragile grape in the shade of poverty, piety, and twelve siblings who never told him the things he needed to know.

He had reached fourteen without ever learning how children were actually made.

He thought maybe it had to do with kissing for too long, or sleeping in the same bed, or touching someone’s bare foot, which seemed—at the time—deeply intimate.

No one had ever explained it to him.

Not his father, who was already dying by the time Geoffredo reached that age.

Not his brothers, who mostly teased him or ignored him.

And certainly not his mother, whose only sex education advice was “Don’t touch yourself. That’s for animals.”

The Novel

He stumbled across the book one rainy afternoon in the rectory library—an old, disheveled place full of strange donations and unsorted boxes. It was in French. The title didn’t give anything away. He only picked it up because he liked the name of the heroine—Cécile. It sounded like a saint’s name.

It wasn’t a saint’s book.

He read a few pages out of curiosity, thinking it was a romance—thinking it was safe—and then—

Then.

Then came the part where the man takes her hand and slides it—

He dropped the book. Literally dropped it. Like it had burned him.

He stood there, heart hammering against his ribs, staring at the floor as if the words might leak out and crawl toward him.

His face flushed. He felt something unfamiliar in his chest, in his stomach, lower.

His whole body ached.

He didn’t know what to call it.

He wasn’t stupid. But he did not know.

Not then.

The Shame After

He didn’t go back for the book. He didn’t speak of it.

He didn’t sleep that night either.

Instead, he lay in bed stiff and cold and ashamed. His legs were sore from kneeling all day, and his arms ached from cleaning the chapel floor with a wire brush—a punishment he had imposed on himself before this had even happened, for merely dreaming of wine.

Now he knew better.

There were worse things than dreaming of wine.

There were books full of them.

He scrubbed his hands raw the next morning, though he hadn’t touched anything.

He skipped breakfast and Mass.

He fasted for three days.

He asked a senior priest, vaguely, whether it was a sin to imagine the sins of others.

The priest said yes.

With a frown.

And a touch too much experience.

That night, Geoffredo used his belt for the first time—not around his waist.

Before, the young boy knew there was a difference. Of course he did.

He was raised Catholic in a small town in postwar Basilicata, not feral in a cave. He’d seen livestock. He had older brothers, for heaven’s sake. Boys whispered things. Priests warned of impure thoughts. There were rumors about a girl from the village who got sent away one summer and came back quiet and holy, like a reformed Magdalene.

He knew there was such a thing as male and female, and that their parts were different.

He just didn’t know those parts fit together. That they did something together. That they had anything to do with how babies came to be.

It seemed...unspeakable. Illogical, even.

He thought maybe the mother just formed the child inside her after marriage. That it was a blessing bestowed by God through conjugal prayer. That “lying with your wife” was a poetic metaphor, not a physical mechanism.

No one had told him otherwise.

And no one corrected him until it was far, far too late.

He imagined

That holy matrimony was a union of two souls, blessed by the Church, sanctified by fidelity and obedience.

That love was soft. Gentle. Pure.

That desire, when not repressed, was a curse.

But then he learned

That even the holiest of men burned with it.

That novels were dangerous.

That women had... flesh that wanted.

That men could want too.

That everything he thought was sacred might live in the same skin as what he thought was filthy.

The First Crush (And Denial)

It happened at seventeen. A girl from the village who came to sing at Christmas.

She was ordinary. Brown hair. Strong voice. Bare fingers and clean shoes.

She asked Geoffredo if he’d be joining the clergy or already had, and when he said he was studying to be a priest she smiled and said:

“Then you’ll have to forgive me, because I think you have the kindest face I’ve ever seen.”

He didn’t sleep that night.

The next day, he confessed a sin he could not name and did penance until he limped.

He never spoke to her again.

But her words lived under his skin.

Not because he wanted her—but because she wanted him.

That was the terrifying part.

Not lust.

Not hunger.

The possibility of being chosen.

Of being loved.

By Eighteen

His flesh was marked.

His will was sharpened.

He was holy, or he was nothing.

He had sacrificed comfort.

He had sacrificed touch.

He had sacrificed the right to be wanted.

Every part of him belonged to God.

At least, he believed that.

He believed it for decades.

Until her.

Maranata was, in truth, the first woman he ever met.

Yes, he had sisters—but they were all older, mothers before he could speak full sentences. To them, he was the baby. Their youngest brother. A doll to carry, not a boy to talk to.

He had two nephews his own age. His childhood playmates were boys from school, boys from church, boys who punched and raced and spat into the dirt. He liked girls just fine—when they played tag, or traded sweets, or sang hymns in the children’s choir. But he had no interest. No awareness that there was anything to be interested in.

When he saw women, they were nuns—holy, quiet, unsmiling. They were not women to him. They were Brides of Christ. Sacred. Hidden. They walked like ghosts across the convent courtyard and left no trace behind them.

You don’t want a ghost. You honor it. You pray near it. You fear it a little.

No one desires nuns.

The women who came to church in Basilicata were modest. Reserved. Often poor. Scarves over their hair. Shoulders covered. Shoes sensible.

The ones who weren't—those with painted lips, thin dresses, loud perfume—he didn’t feel tempted by them. He felt disgusted. They seemed unserious. Indecent. Not women, exactly, but disruptions in the holy atmosphere. And he resented them for it. Because even if his body stirred, his mind wanted to punish the stirring. That was their fault, wasn’t it?

Until Maranata.

Maranata, with her laugh, and her sharp tongue, and her theological insight.

Maranata, who quoted the Bible and rolled her eyes in the same breath.

Maranata, who flirted without even knowing it. Who prayed like she meant it. Who taught him new ways to read the verses he thought he already knew.

She wasn’t a temptation.

She was a person.

That was the danger.

Maranata wasn’t planning to return. The chapel wasn’t even locked, and all she’d left behind was her notes—a single leather folio containing her outlines and translations. But something stirred her just before sunrise. Something tugged at her—not quite a voice, not quite instinct. Just a weight in the air.

She pulled her cardigan tighter around her, stepped outside, and felt the forest's breath, damp and heavy. The horizon still wore the color of bruises.

When she reached the chapel, the door was ajar.

And then she saw it.

At first, she thought it was paint.

A smear across the stone threshold. Another down the middle aisle. Drops—irregular, wet, fresh—spattered across the cold chapel floor like a trail.

No. Not paint.

Blood.

She stiffened, breath catching in her throat. Her eyes followed the path—past the pews, past the altar—until it reached the crucifix. There, looming and grotesque in the half-light, was the massive carving of Christ—body twisted, mouth agape, thorns biting flesh.

And beneath Him…

Geoffredo.

On his knees. Shaking. Slumped forward like a beaten dog. His white undershirt soaked through with sweat and crimson.

Crimson?

She blinked hard.

There were lacerations along his back. Thin and precise.

No—intentional.

His belt lay discarded nearby. Torn linen. A shard of glass.

“Please, Lord…” he murmured, voice scraping through his teeth like gravel. “Please tell me what You want from me… I am a fool… a foolish man… speak clearly, Father… speak to me—”

The crucifix towered above him.

And for a moment, in the hazy shadows, it felt like it leaned forward.

Maranata couldn't breathe.

She stepped back once, heart rattling against her ribs, but then steadied herself. Slowly, carefully, she moved forward—each step a betrayal of every instinct she had.

“Geoffredo…?”

He didn’t hear her.

Or maybe he did, and the sound simply passed through him like wind through a broken house.

His head was bowed. Blood dripped from his shoulder onto the floor. He swayed slightly, muttering something incoherent in Latin. His hands trembled where they pressed together—still in the posture of prayer.

“Et ne nos inducas in tentationem… sed libera nos… libera me… libera me ab ea…”

(And lead us not into temptation... but deliver me... deliver me from her...)

Her.

Oh God.

Maranata's mouth went dry.

She reached out, hand trembling, and touched his shoulder.

“Geoffredo?” she said again, this time barely more than a whisper.

He froze.

And for the first time that night, he looked up.

His eyes were wild.

Glass-bright. Tear-red. Dilated.

He looked unrecognizable.

And under the crucifix, with blood on his skin and prayer still on his lips, he looked like a man waiting to be damned.

“Geoffredo!”

[amethystlove37]

Excerpt from Chapter 36🌶️🤗

Y/N placed the riding crop on his thigh, slowly raising it to his crotch, abdomen, and both sides of his chest. Sylus’s breath hitched. 

He calmed himself, “How do you expect me to respond to your aimless flirtation?” 

Y/N narrowed her eyes, unsatisfied with his answer. But enjoying him on his knees for her. She used the crop to pull his chin upward before sliding it across his jawline. She liked how obedient he was in response to her movements, even if his words weren’t.  

His eyes trailed her like a hunter does its prey, “I like the look on your face right now.” 

She lightly tapped his cheek with the end of the crop. 

Sylus replied in frustration, “Provoking me is not a wise choice.” 

Y/N gritted her teeth as she thought he needed a bit of discipline for all his talking back. 

She moved her heeled foot to his thigh, pressing lightly. 

Sylus’s breath hitched, “As a tamer, don’t be so stingy.” His eyes screamed defiance. 

“As a brat, don’t be so disobedient. It’ll only get you in trouble.” she replied, moving her heel to the center of his chest. 

Sylus inhaled sharply before letting out a raggedy breath. 

Y/N moved all of the pressure to just the sharp heel of her shoe, swirling it down and around his abdomen. 

His breaths become shorter. 

Finally, she pressed her heel deep into him. 

“Raise the stakes.” Sylus growled; his desire evident. 

Y/N stood and walked behind him in a deliberately slow motion. 

She approached him from behind, “Do you remember what you should call me?” 

Sylus glanced behind his shoulder, “An angry hunter? Or a kitten holding a grudge?” 

She pressed her foot into his back, slowly adding a bit of pressure before kicking him over. 

He fell to the floor with a thud, still restrained, before letting out a low chuckle. “Is that all the patience you have?” 

Y/N walked over to him, before crouching down and admiring his face looking up at her. This time, she towered over him. She moved his face around forcefully and slow, taking in each angle. 

“So, you like when I look at you this way.” he said. 

She continued to play with her face, lowering his chin before pressing her thumb into his lips and letting him go. 

Sylus sighed, “Is that all you’ve got…” He began to sit himself up, “If you wanna tame me, you’ll need more than that.” 

His eye began to glow bright red as mist swirled, “I don’t mind spending the whole night with you.” 

Y/N hit him across the face, her hand holding more force than she intended, though she didn’t show it. 

Sylus blinked in surprise, he opened his mouth to protest, prompting Y/N to slap him again. 

The mist began to find its way around her waist, causing Y/N to glance down at it and lift a brow. 

She grabbed Sylus’s chin, pulling him forcefully to her, “It would seem you like being punished.” 

“Is this a punishment?” Sylus smirked. 

“Why? Do you want to see more?” Y/N’s face twisted into a smirk, drunk off the power of the moment. 

“Yes.” Sylus replied quicker than he intended. 

Y/N let him go, “You’ve said before that I can do anything I want with you. Any time. Do you mean that?” 

Sylus smirked and nodded. 

Y/N forcefully grabbed his hair, pulling his head to the side, exposing his neck. “I like verbal responses.” 

Sylus’s eyes grew wide. “Yes.”

She pulled harder, bringing her lips to his ear, brushing them against each other as she spoke, “Yes, what?” 

She pulled away just enough to look him in the eye, their faces inches from each other. 

“Yes, ma’am?” he replied cautiously. 

Y/N smirked, “I like that. Good boy.” She licked his neck, biting it lightly as he groaned. 

Then she abruptly let go and moved her hands to his chest, undoing the buttons of his vest and shirt. Her foot found itself against his chest again, “Down.” she commanded as she pressed. 

He laid on his back and she pressed her heel into his chest, all of her weight bearing on it this time. 

Sylus gasped greedily in response. No one had ever made him so ‘powerless’ before. And he clearly liked it. Hungry for more. So much more. 

Y/N pushed his side lightly, “Turn.” 

He did as ask, moving onto his stomach. 

She raised her foot so that the heel just barely scraped his back. “What do you want?” 

“You.” he replied, smirking. 

“Oh?” she replied. She pulled her foot away and grabbed the handcuffs restraining his hands, yanking them back. “Stand.” 

He used the force of the pull to stand and she pulled him to the chair, placed his arms behind the back of it. 

She looked around the room and noticed a small table, on it were a few things, a chain with a metal snap hook and handle, a flogger, a box of condoms, and a pair of scissors. 

Y/N took the scissors, moving behind him. She carefully cut his shirt and vest off, the cold scissors barely touching his skin. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Sylus asked. 

“Exactly what I want.” she replied. 

She returned the scissors and made her way back in front of him, bending down to unbutton his pants. 

Sylus’s eyes grew wide as she pulled them off of him. “Are you sure this is what you want.” 

She stared directly into his eyes as her hands cupped his manhood through his underwear. “Absolutely positive.” 

His breath hitched. 

She let go abruptly, moving her right leg to the top of the chair, her hips now meeting his eyes. 

He swallowed as he looked at her thigh, her skirt perfectly displaying it before the top of her thigh high boots. 

Y/N looked down at him greedily. “Want to know a secret?” 

Sylus looked up at her, raising a brow in interest. As that only met him with silence, he replied with a verbal, “Yes ma’am.” 

She chuckled lightly, “I’m not wearing any underwear right now.” 

He blinked in brief shock, his eyes inadvertently landing on her thigh again before meeting her gaze. There was a hint of disbelief in his look. 

“What? You don’t think so? Why don’t you find out then?” She smirked. 

Read the rest at https://archiveofourown.org/works/62213260/chapters/159149476 Happy Reading! 💌💌

[hiswordsarekisses]

When the Spirit of God came into Saul as God was calling and anointing him as king, he immediately became a visibly changed man.

In ‭‭1st Samuel chapter‬ ‭10‬, Scripture says that as Saul turned to leave Samuel (after Samuel had spoken the Word of the Lord to him) that God immediately transformed his heart, and all of the signs that Samuel had prophesied to him came to pass that very day. And that “when all who knew him formerly saw him prophesying with the prophets, they said one to another, “What has happened to the son of Kish? Is Saul also among the prophets?” (Someone there asked, “Who is their father?”) Therefore it became a proverb, “Is Saul also among the prophets?”

Proverbs 16:18 says that “Pride goes before destruction - and a haughty spirit before a fall.” And when Saul’s success caused his heart to be lifted up in pride, he became disobedient and even wicked and evil in his heart - to the point of God removing His Spirit from Saul completely.

“A man’s pride will bring him low, but a humble spirit will gain honor.” Proverbs‬ ‭29‬:‭23‬

In 1st Samuel chapter 15 it says that God regretted that He had made Saul king, because he had turned back from following Him and became disobedient because there was no fear of of God in his heart.

At the start Saul had been insignificant in his own eyes, and because of this, his heart was humble. It was because of Saul’s humble heart that God made him the head of the tribes of Israel, and anointed him king over Israel.

But he became greedy and began to do what was evil in God’s eyes. He became more worried about what the people thought of him than what God had commanded.

Verse 22 of that chapter says “rebellion is like the sin of witchcraft, and stubbornness is the same as idolatry. Since you have rejected the Word of The Lord, The Lord has also rejected you as king.”

Even Samuel would not go on with him. Samuel said “I will not return with you, because you have rejected the Word of The Lord and He has torn the kingship from you today and has given it to someone who is better than you.”

After the Spirit of The Lord had left Saul, he became oppressed by an evil spirit and became more evil than ever. It reminds me of what Jesus taught about what happens when an evil spirit leaves a person and the person’s heart is swept clean. Saul’s heart was clean like that when Samuel spoke the Word of the Lord to him. But the spirit goes out and about and finds 7 other spirits more evil than itself and tries to return. If the person allows it to come back in, it moves in with the 7 other spirits as well - and the state of that person is even worse than before.

The life of Saul (as well as many of the other Kings in Scripture) is a very clear warning to us in so many ways to be very careful of sneakiness of pride.

It is also important to realize and mark it to memory that we cannot be - or remain - humble on our own.

We have to remain as close to God as we can possibly get, so that we are walking according to His Spirit - and not according to our flesh, and in daily surrender, so that He is “working in us to will and to act according to His purpose in us.” (Phil 2:13)

Daily dying to our self-life, and crucifying the flesh is not something we do by the power of our own will - it is only choosing to go to God in prayer for HIS power to fight against our own self, instead of just doing whatever our flesh desires.

The same God Who raised Jesus from the dead now lives inside of us in all of His power - and He is more than able to change us from the inside out. All He requires of us is surrender and that we follow the instructions He left us - with His strength He gave us and has put inside of us.

The minute we let our guard down, thinking we can do it on our own - or thinking our transformation is unimportant since we are “under grace” - we have an enemy who will slip in the cracks in the most subtle ways.

That “grace” we are under is where we find the power available to be obedient to the Word of God.

Scripture says that that we have already been given everything we need for life and godliness - through our knowledge of God through His Word. His Word is where we find the precious promise that we now literally share in God’s divine nature. It’s like we have been given brand new DNA, but spiritually. Our human/flesh DNA no longer matters because God’s Spiritual DNA overpowers it! And through the blood of Jesus we have actually escaped our sinful nature’s desires and the corruption of the world. (See 2nd Peter 1:3-13)

The devil will use anyone or anything to slip through into our lives in the most subtly unexpected ways. It can even appear as an answered prayer or fulfilled desire. It can look perfect and good, and still be contrary to scripture. And anything contrary to scripture is not the will of God. God will alert our spirit to warn us, that’s why it’s so important to stay in prayer and in the Word so that we are able to hear the warning.

When we are busy and caught up in the cares of life, the Bible says the Word will become ineffective because it is choked out of our heart and mind. We have to be very careful to abide in God’s Words, and make sure that His Words abide in us, so that we are not pulled out of His will by deception.

I saw a quote that said “discernment is not just knowing the difference between right and wrong, but knowing the difference when something is almost right.” Something can look so much like it should be God’s will, until you look closer and line every aspect of it up with scripture.

There will come days we have to force feed ourselves the Word of God, and also force ourselves to our knees to pray, in order to keep ourselves alert and in the healthiest fear of God. This fear is not being afraid OF God - this is fear of being SEPARATED from Him - fear of FALLING AWAY from Him. Because we learn very quickly the hard way, that as soon as we begin to walk in the flesh we are on our way in that direction! Understanding THIS is how we come to the revelation that:

“The fear of God will keep us.”

“The fear of the Lord is a fountain of life, that one may turn away from the snares of death.” Proverbs‬ ‭14‬:‭27‬ ‭

So Stay alert and watch out! The devil prowls around like a roaring lion, searching for someone to devour. Stand up against him, firm in your faith, knowing that the same kinds of suffering are being laid upon your brothers and sisters throughout the world. And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace Who has called you will restore, support, strengthen, and establish you. All power to Him forever! Amen.” (From 1st Peter‬ ‭chapter 5‬)

“Finally, be strong in the Lord and in His mighty power. Put on the full armor of God, so that you are able to stand against the schemes of the devil. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the worldly forces of this darkness, and against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places. So take up the full armor of God, so that you may be able to resist when the times are evil, and after you have done everything, to stand - Stand firm then! Buckle the belt of truth around your waist, and put on the breastplate of righteousness. Strap up your feet in readiness with the Good News of peace. Above all, take up the shield of faith with which you will be able to extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. And take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God. Pray in the Spirit on every occasion, with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, keep alert with perseverance and prayers for all the children of God.” (From Ephesians‬ ‭chapter 6‬)