#clean titled properties

[realtyhubph-blog]

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[kabuki-writes]

Aeternitas Nunc Est

chapter: 7 chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

pairing: emperor geta/emperor caracalla x acacius' daughter!reader

summary: Your wedding night with Emperor Geta.

warning(s): heavy smut warning | partially non consent | Geta being Geta | semi-edited | english is not my first language, faults may occur | please let me know if i missed anything

Note: Yes, i kinda back after it took me nearly an eternity before i was able to present this smut-heavy chapter. I am not super-experienced with writing smut, but i tried my best and hope you'll like it! :) Also big thanks to all the sweet beans, who sent me well-wishes over the last weeks!

word count: 2.8

You watched the lights of Rome in the dark veil of the night, which had layed itself upon the hills of the eternal city. The royal palace sat upon one of those sacred hills, watching over the gigantic capital of the growing Empire, just like the Greek believed that the Olymp watched over their lands. This palace here was not only the residence of the Emperors Geta and Caracalla anymore, it was your home now too. You'll never get back to your families home, to your parents. With this marriage now, you were no longer in the hands of your father, but became the property of Geta. He was able to do with you as he pleased, which included an order to kill you or your family in an instant. A sword that was over your head from the day that your father betrayed the Emperors - and somehow you needed to find a way for yourself in this dangerous situation now. No privilege would save you now, your mind and your wits were your only weapons left.

Empress. It still felt surreal that this was the way you were called now. The title felt heavy on your shoulders just as the golden tiara crown of Empress Poppea on your head, while you listened to the footsteps of your husband behind you, echoing on the clean marble floor of his personal chambers as he approached you. Just as it was tradition, he'd taken you away from the celebration at one point, so that you to were able to seal this bond off with the mandatory wedding night.

Geta's hand reached out to you, taking one of the strains of your hair between his fingers, while his eyes lingered on your form, your curves hugged by the fabric of your beautiful wedding dress. Even though the thought of simply ripping your gown off your body and taking you right here right now, was an urge in his mind, he knew quite well that he had to treat you different like he did with his concubines. He needed you to surrender yourself to him, so that he could shake off the feeling of desperation he had, when he thought of you. Geta wanted you as a whole, not just your body, but your mind as well - an Empress that served him and loved him like no one else did.

„You can hate me as much as you want now. It doesn't matter", he whispered, standing close to you so that you were able to feel his hot breath against your skin. "I could kill you and your family, everything is in my hands, depending on how you play your part." Your eyes went silently to him, but you were not backing off in any way. "Then why don't you do it right now, my Emperor? Kill me and we're done with it. This wedding celebration becomes nothing more than dust and ashes then."

It were those words in this very moment, when Geta understood that he wasn't able to get you through fear. It surprised him, his irritation clearly written on his face. No one ever dared to speak with him like this, no one ever defied him in any way and yet you did - without hesitation. And while it would usually anger him, somehow in your case, he found it intruiging. Yet it also reminded him about the fact that he didn't just married you because he was able to bind General Acacius to his and his brother's rule.

His hand reached out and he traced the details of your jawline, before he placed his thumb and index finger at your chin, the tall young man basically towering you as he stood right in front of your form.

"That would be too easy, don't you think? I just presented Rome its new Empress. But let me remind you of the fact that you're nothing without me now. When my brother and i fall, so do you, which is why your father should follow our hand instead of chasing a dream that is long forgotten."

His thumb slowly ran over your lips, touching them softly as if he couldn't wait to simply kiss them. You stood still, eyes locked with him, as if you waited for him to make the first move. Maybe he thought you were a sheep, something to easily pray on like all the other women he usually got with one snap of his fingers, but despite your situation, there was still pride in you - hope even. "My father serves no one but Rome", you answered, but suddenly Geta tightened the grip on your chin. "Then you should hope that his definition of Rome is right this time. But let us stop talking about him, shall we? This is our wedding night and we both waited enough."

With those words his hands went to the brooches that held your dress together. Even though your body tensed, you knew you couldn't do anything about him being the first man to lay hands on you as he was now your husband. His dark eyes lingered on you like a wolf ready to consume his prey, especially once your dress fell from your shoulders to the ground, revealing the beautiful curves of your body.

"From the very first day i saw you, i was sure that you were the incarnation of Venus...", he mumbled, while his pale fingers traced your collarbones, the curves of your now exposed breasts, down to your hip. He took his time with it, as if he was looking at a marble statue in front of him. "Perfection."

His words rang in your ears and although it was an honor to hear those words from the mouth of an Emperor, it felt different. Otherwise, you instantly thought about the fact that his attention, his desire for you could be something useful. And you should at least try to keep him pleased if you didn't want him to think back to your father's betrayal. So out of a sudden, your hands went up to cup his cheeks, while your eyes met his. For a second he even froze in place, surprised by your sudden action. From the day you knew that a marriage with Geta was inevitable, you had to befriend the thought of induldging into something you couldn't change in any way. It was better to adapt in order to survive, better do play your part in order to gain peace - and through this, you might find a way to change the course of history?

Maybe this idea in your mind fired your bravery as you swallowed your pride and placed your lips on his. It was almost a provocation, rather than a romantic form of showing your devotion. "I might not change so quickly into the woman you expect from me", you whispered against them, his lips curving up into a wide smirk, amused by your tone shift. "Why should i want this? I enjoy our little game way too much..."

His hands suddenly grabbed your neck at the sides as he hold you in place, forcing you into another kiss, a more intense one this time. He quickly broke your hesitation with a straight entry of his tongue into your mouth, invading it like a conquerer and pushing you into a dance. You couldn't step back, you couldn't turn your head away, his fingers, the cold metal of his rings, drilled themselves into the skin on your throat and neck, imprison you in this position. It felt like an eternity until he released his lips from yours, before he brought them to your ear. "If i'd wish to fuck a submissive servant, i simply fuck one of my concubines, or a slave. You however,...", he whispered with a devilish grin on his face, which sent shivers down your spine. "It brings me much more joy, when you fight me... although i know you'll come to the point of loving me soon enough. And i will wait for it".

He didn't waste any time as he grabbed your arms and pushed you down on the the four poster bed, which was prepared for you two. A sea of pillows and blankets under the sky of heavy velvet drapes. Geta pinned you down onto the mattress as he placed kisses all over your neck, marking you as his own by leaving dark bruises on your skin. His words weren't a lie, because every time you tried to push him away with the way your body moved, he only took it as a motivation to continue in an even more craving and demanding way. There was no reason for you to keep this up for long, as it was not changing anything. Slowly his one hand creeped between your legs before he touched your sancturary, which was never been owned by any man before. With a grin, he coated his fingers with the wetness on your entrance, as he felt how your body shivered under his touch. "So you are not devoted to me yet? Then why are you wet like the ocean down there?", Geta whispered teasingly into your ear, while he pushed two fingers into you, causing you to gasp.

In fact, Geta was no brute. He could come off as a cruel man, but he knew that you were untouched, so he took his time to enjoy your body, while also preparing you for what's to come. In a way, he didn't want to hurt you, even though it was hard for him to hold back. His lips found their way from your neck to your breasts, while he stimulated your clitoris slowly with his fingers. There was no doubt that Geta was experienced, no surprisingly given the horde of concubines he called his own. But none of those women ever gave him the same satisfaction as you did in this moment. The feeling of your soft, skin under his lips was electrifying for him, while he went down to place kisses on your chest and lick over one of your nipples before he teasingly bit it with his teeth.

You couldn't clench your teeth together forever, while you tried so desperately to resist. There was still a form of resistance in you, as you didn't want to surrender your body so easily to the touch of a man that had threatened your family and force you into marriage. But it got harder, when the first sounds of pleasure escaped your lips, which incited Geta to keep going. The way your nipples grew hard under the touch of his tongue and the sucking of his lips was a divine example for him how you would soon tear down your wall freely. Out of a sudden, he reached for your wrist and forced your hand to the hem of his robes. "Go on, take them off", his demanding whisper catched your ear and you couldn't explain why your body simply followed his orders. Maybe a twisted 'excitement' guided your hands as you shoved his toga off his shoulders, following his belt and his tunica, the heavy brocade fabrics falling down to the white marble grounds, before you were able to see his body for the very first time.

Geta was the embodiment of the dissolute Emperor, whose main role from his early childhood was to become the most powerful man in all of Rome. The days his father had forced him onto the battlefield where long over, he hated the mere thought of dirt, hard work and the smell of a camp of legionaries. His body was pale as if he'd never seen the sunlight, a reminder how priviledged the Emperor's truly were in difference to the rest of Rome. Even though he wasn't seen as a strong man, who could fight against a gladiator, his slender body was still decorated by light and defined muscles. All those parties, the drinking and whoring aside, Geta did care for his body out of the fear to end up ill like his damned father, who died pathetically in his bed. But the most present part for you now was Geta's hardened erection, ready to have his moment, pre-cum already glistening in the dim light of the oil lamps that surrounded you. Your heart pounded against your chest, almost as if it would rip out of your skin at any given moment - like a prey in front of a predator and yet you stared into his eyes in defiance.

Oh how he was turned on by this beautiful defiance in your eyes, the thinking that you will never surrender yourself to a God. It motivated him to turn those tables, to make you scream his name as he would fuck you to elysium. And with that in his mind, he grabbed your wrists and pinned you down, bringing his body between your legs as he spreaded them. His hips blocking your possibility to push your legs together again. His face went down to your face, as he forced a hungry and predatory kiss onto your lips, your tongue fighting against his, before your suddenly bit his lip during the battle of dominance. Geta's head shot back, his dark eyes staring at you before a laugh escaped his lips again. "I have a pretty bold wife, so hesitant!"

"Call me your wife, but i will never love you!", you quickly hissed back, showing him the hate that had built up in your stomach with every second passing, but he didn't care at all. His grin spoke more than a thousand words. Without a warning, he slowly pushed himself into you. He could've simply thrust in you, not caring for your pain in any way which was hard to avoid when a woman lost her virginity. But it was softer than he inicially intended to be. You wanted to curse him, but all you were able to get out of your mouth, when you felt how the stinging pain got replaced with a different feeling, something more carnal, was a moan through your clenched teeth. Geta didn't need to hold himself back, the dark moan that came from his lips only mirrowed the pleasure he felt, when a tight cunt held his hardened cock. "I don't need your love, it'll come sooner or later. What i want now is your body, surrendered to me... and trust me, you will stop fighting me". With those words, the young Emperor began to thrust into you, starting with slow movements, while his one hand was still holding his position beside your head, the other was holding your wrists above your head to avoid any form of resistance.

Not that you could resist anyways, there was never a way out from the day your wedding got announced. Seeing his lust shimmering in his dark eyes, which were focused on your face, watching how you tried so desperately to not show him any form of pleasure, it felt like a torture. Geta knew what he did, he knew how to treat your body to get his desired reaction. And once he felt your resistance cracking down under the deep thrusts, while your bodies were starting to move in unison, he loosened the grip around your wrists. "I might've made a mistake... you're not so bold as you think you are", he groaned, before your eyes shut open and you grabbed his shoulders. Not bold enough... His voice haunted your head. You didn't surrender, maybe it was time to set new rules. With a devilish grin, he wrapped his arm around your hip and switched the positions with one movement. You found yourself on his lap, but one of your hand already found its way in his short gingerblonde hair, which you grabbed and pulled, before your hip moved against his. In this position, you were the one to look down on him, while he was able to easily hit your deepest core with his dick. "Now you got claws?", he whispered, but you didn't fall for his provocation and continued to ride him with a newly fired self-esteem, that even surprised him. But it wasn't as if he was able to think more about it in this very moment, when his fingers pressed into the skin of your ass, while he hold you down, the moment he shot his load in you. The semen that may carry an heir into your womb, a legacy Geta wished for himself - and not for his brother. A lineage that started from him and him alone. It was a good timing as your body 'surrendered' as well, your moan filling this room with your shared high, the only true implementation of a marriage.

Now you were truly his wife. Married to an Emperor. An Empress.

____________________________

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[buryustogether]

yandere alastor x fem!reader hcs

sfw + nsfw below

i have this idea that, when you were both still human, alastor married you for a marriage of convenience (probably tax purposes). he's not one for love, but he does quite like to make things easier for himself, as well as a bit of reliable companionship from someone he can trust. he found it rather cute that you were head over heels in love with him.

he insists upon keeping you at his side almost 24/7. you accompany him everywhere; to his station while he's broadcasting, about town as he runs his errands, even to his overlord meetings, though you are forced to wait outside. he knows you won't up and disappear; even if you weren't such a good little pet, there isn't anywhere you could run that he couldn't find you.

the other overlords tease alastor about his little 'pet' he keeps on such a tight leash. he doesn't ever object to this title.

gives you dancing lessons and doesn't allow you to rest until you can copy his movements exactly. if you collapse from exhaustion before that, he'll coo and brush your hair out of the way, then haul you to your feet and start again from the beginning.

he won't have you doing much other than keeping your shared home clean and occasionally cooking a meal or two. you're his darling, he can't have you wearing yourself out taking care of him. he'll do most everything - he just wants you to sit there and look pretty for him.

won't allow you to leave the table until you finish the meals he makes for you.

loves to have you hanging on his arm. you're like a precious little trophy for him to show off - only his, and no one else's.

being alastor's beloved companion makes you a prime target for blackmail and kidnappers, but he doesn't want you to fret, dear - he has it covered. his shadows are on your trail in the extremely rare occasion he's not with you, and he's killed demons for less than even looking your way.

doesn't allow any kind of modern technology inside his home or upon your person, even if you died long after him. he considers cellphones to be the property of his enemies, and you wouldn't want him to catch you wearing the symbol of the v's, now, would you?

he picks out your outfits for each day, even has them custom made at the tailor's just for you. he knows best, darling, so don't fight him on this. he doesn't want you going out looking like some common harlot, not when you belong to the radio demon.

often takes out his frustrations of the day on you at night when you're alone in his bedroom. he bites and scratches and thrashes like a beast trapped in a snare, and he relishes in having you wear the marks when he's done.

his favorite position to have you in is plain old missionary; not only is it traditional, but he enjoys having complete control over you while he bucks up into your heat.

like most animal-based demons in hell, he enters a rut once a month and rarely emerges from his quarters; which means you don't, either. at least three times a day, and he only stops to give you rest and to whisper the filthiest things you've ever heard in your ear.

enjoys bondage to an extent, but only on you. he's not opposed to pretty little collars wrapped around your neck, either.

now, when you're in the mood and he's not, he's not totally cruel. while he won't fuck you when and wherever, he'll allow you to straddle his thigh and hump his leg like an animal while he continues whatever work he was doing before.

he may often be brutal, he knows aftercare is extremely important. he can't leave his darling bruised and broken for next time, can he? licks up any blood he may have drawn and ensures you drink when you're done, even if he has to hold your back against his chest and tip your chin up to force the water down your throat. he'll usually run you a bath and, surprisingly, will gently bathe you before dressing you in the finest bedroom silks in hell and putting you to bed.

he doesn't sleep much, but since meeting you, he's replaced many of his nighttime activities with sitting at the side of your bed and watching you sleep.

alastor doesn't love; but he knows he would tear hell apart at the seams if you were ever taken from him.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Becoming His

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x concubine!reader

Summary: Feyd chooses you as his concubine

Notes/Warnings: Smut (but not an overwhelming amount), so 18+. Possessiveness (ownership of other human beings and whatnot). It changes from third person perspective to second person, so i’m sorry if that irritates some people, but I just thought that it expressed the feelings of the story better, considering the tonal switch. This is based on a request. Sorry if there are typos.

It can be read as stand-alone, but it goes along with the following fics: His, Don't Touch What's His, and Only His. This fic takes place before any of those.

Words: 2400

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

Feyd was sent for peace. The Baron sees use in House Wallach and very specifically instructed his favorite nephew to arrange a deal. With House Wallach’s planet producing items of value, the Baron would not attempt domination over their world in exchange for those items. That seemed fair—as fair as the Harkonnens get—but if one party fails to deliver, consequences follow. Sometimes, that means the taking of other items of value.

They aren’t prisoners of war—they can’t be considered such when war did not actually occur—but they’re close enough: women taken from their home planet after their leaders failed to protect them, leaving them weak and vulnerable and unprepared for what their new lives will thrust upon them. For the first time in their blip of existence, they are a foreigner's property; the most humiliating of circumstances for women of their status: three high-ranking handmaids, the live-in bene gesserit, and the daughter of their Lord and Lady. And Feyd has to choose one. 

“It’s within your right,” the Baron tells him. “And expected. To turn them away without taking one for yourself would be a showing of weakness.”

Feyd scans each one. He supposes they’re all appealing in their own ways. The handmaids were raised to obey, an ability Feyd would have them exercise often. The bene gesserit has knowledge beyond her years. And the benefits of owning an heir of a Great House can be summed up by title alone. 

However, they have their faults as well. The handmaids aren’t particularly beautiful, and as they stand there, shaking, huddled together, with their eyes down and chins tucked into their chests, Feyd finds them grossly undesirable. If he wanted a mouse, he would take one of his own servants. 

The bene gesserit, regardless of appearance, is a witch whose most vital loyalty will belong to the Reverend Mother and her followers before House Harkonnen—a traitorous snake in the making. He cannot have a woman in his bed that he will be unable to trust.  

The one remaining, the Lady, she’s fearless. He can see it already in the set pout of her pretty lips. He doesn’t like fearlessness; it’s disrespectful, potentially disobedient, but at the same time, she encapsulates everything else he could want: a face he doesn’t hate to look upon, to say the very least; nobility, a reminder that he claimed something invaluable to an entire planet; and perhaps most intriguing: she’ll be a challenge—not easily torn down—and the more he looks at her, the more the others fade into nonexistence. 

Feyd steps closer to her, drawn in by delicate features, and waves of hair, and luscious curves. 

“This one,” he says. 

With those two words, a spark shoots across her irises. Her knitted brow soothes. Her mouth, now unburdened by the weight of the pout, twitches up in the corners. There’s a hint of a dimple in her right cheek that is there and then gone, taken from him before he can fully understand why his heart thumped at the sight of it. 

“Fine,” the Baron replies. 

Commanding his guards, he says, “Rid of the others,” prompting gasps and tears of fear, and even Feyd is unsure what will become of them. Slaves? Entertainment in the arena? Perhaps his uncle will let him feed them to his pets.

To his servants, the Baron says, “Clean her up.”

And to his nephew, he says, “She’ll be brought to you later,” just before two small Harkonnen women take her by the arms and lead her away.

—

He thought all afternoon of the noises he would soon be forcing from you. The yelps, the squeals, the cracking from your grinding teeth. Everyone’s flesh makes a unique sound when sliced open, and he imagined what sound your flesh would make. The masterpiece your face would be after your tears melt your makeup he’d be proud to claim as his work. 

But then his servants bring you to him. They push you through the door and position you in front of him before skittering away, and in the silence they leave behind, Feyd can only detect his own heartbeat. 

He liked you in the pinkish-toned clothing traditional of your house—it made you stick out amongst the darkness surrounding you, like uncorrupted sweetness in its last moments—but in Harkonnen black, you’re something else entirely. 

He’s read of goddesses and angels, deities and divine spirits lost with those who once worshipped them, and he always wondered how such beings cultivated mass devotion without the consistent doling out of immense pain. But he gets it now. He understands the draw of the ethereal. 

After minutes of staring, his eyes feel dry, scratchy; he needs to blink, he needs to close his parted mouth, but he can’t, nor can he form a coherent thought separated from the way your hair frames your face and how the silk cascading down your body doesn’t do a perfect job of hiding everything underneath. Touch. He wants to touch. Run hands over soft skin. Press his lips to–

He stops himself. That’s wrong. He is meant to sink his teeth into you. He should be digging his nails into flesh, draining blood, staining sheets, licking tears from cheeks like the men before him have done to their concubines. 

She’s yours, so train her well—that’s what his uncle said, and Feyd knows for a fact that the Harkonnen method of training a woman is devoid of anything but pure torture. Harkonnen training is rough, crude, brutal on the body and mind to break someone down. Only the strong build themselves back up into warriors—like he did—and concubines are not meant to attempt that feat.

“Am I going to stand here all night?”

Your voice sends a chill down his spine, yanking him out of his head. He finally blinks. As his eyes meet yours, he swallows and says, “Do you want to stand there all night?”

“Not particularly,” you tell him. “And I don’t think your servants spent hours fixing me up just so I can take post like a statue at the foot of your bed.”

He wouldn’t mind a statue in your likeness, actually. He’d feel a lot less conflicted if he had two of you at his disposal; one for what a concubine is meant for, and one unaltered from the way you are right now—no pain in your eyes, no quiver to your lip, no marks marring your skin. 

“They did not,” he confirms. 

He pushes off the desk he had been leaning against and uncrosses his arms as he steps toward you, stopping just before colliding with your body. Your head tilts back, and he knows he is supposed to smirk at your powerlessness; his eyes should be pouring with the promises of a painful future, but he can’t access that otherwise always-accessible emotion. The hatred is not quite there. The vile pool of black sludge that has resided within him from the moment he pierced his mother’s throat with a blade has started to drain because of the doe eyes that stare up at him. 

“I’m not scared of you,” he hears, and for a second, he cannot tell if the words came from your mouth or from his. But you don’t reply, so that must be his role.

“It's stupid not to be scared of me.”

“Maybe,” you say, your head cocking, “but you don't look at me like you want me to be scared of you.”

That right there—he should kill you for that. You see too much. He wonders if you see his thoughts as well. He doesn’t need a woman with eyes that see more than what is tangibly in front of her. 

Instead of his body operating on its own, he has to force his hand to wrap around the neck of the threat before him. But five seconds of the delicate column in his grasp goes by, and then ten, and then fifteen, and his fingers have yet to squeeze any tighter. Surprise is etched onto your face, but it’s different. It’s not the look of a woman suddenly in a vulnerable position. By the way your eyes trail from his face to bicep to forearm, it’s more like you’re shocked that his touch is as warm as it is, as if you expected the paleness of his skin to mean hot blood does not course through his veins. 

Tentatively, your hands reach up until your palms are cupping his cheeks. He can’t bring himself to jerk away as your tongue slides out to wet your lips and you rise on your toes. You gently tilt his head down to yours, and then you brush your mouth over his. 

Feyd’s lungs tighten in his chest as you do it again. The hand around your neck slides into your hair, holding your head in place so he can take more, kiss harder. But it’s not long that he’s devouring your taste before he comes to his senses and shoves you away. 

“Stop that,” he spits, his brow drawn. “I did not tell you to do that.” 

Your teeth trap your bottom lip. “Then what do you want me to do?”

“Lay on the bed,” he says, then quickly adds, “On your stomach.” It’s better that way. If he isn’t focusing on you, your eyes, your lips, then he won’t be distracted from his own pleasure.

You don’t hesitate to do as he says, and you walk past him to the mattress. He doesn’t turn to watch you shed your thin gown, fearing what the combined vision of face and bare body will do to him, so he works on removing his own clothes, facing you only once he hears the shifting of the coverings on his bed. 

Your arms are bent, hands overlapped under your head as you wait for him to join, and after taking in the curvature of spine and the dip in lower back before the swell of bottom, he does, settling behind you. 

He doesn’t know where to start. There’s so much to take in and he does his best to memorize it all until, eventually, he lets his palm slide up the center of your back. When it causes you to shiver, he rips his hand away.

“It wasn’t bad,” you tell him. “I’m fine.”

Feyd hums in a manner intended to come off much more displeased than it does. He didn’t ask if you were fine, and a scolding is on the tip of his tongue for even suggesting the idea, but the piece of him that knows he would’ve stopped if you had said the opposite keeps the words from reaching past his throat.

Feyd tries once more, this time placing his hand at your hip for purchase as he guides himself inside of you with the other. With great effort, he swallows his gasp before he falls forward on clenched fists that press into the mattress on either side of your breasts. 

You’re warmer than he expected. Tight and slick and warm, and amidst the sensations that take over his entire being, he somehow manages to find enough clarity to question the normalcy of your body. 

Harkonnen women aren’t warm like this. Warm, yes, but your warmth is more comforting, more engulfing. He’ll feel an unpleasant chill when he removes himself from you and so decides it might be best to stay right there inside of you for as long as he can. But after he hears the little sound you make through the ringing in his ears, he doesn’t know how much longer that will be.

He pulls out slightly and then pushes in, and he receives another of your sounds, louder this time. Your hips lift an inch off the mattress, pushing back into his. He thrusts again and his brain fuzzes. When he shoves in deeper, you yelp at the spot he hits and he loses his mind entirely, left with the sole desire to see how many notes he can get you to sing for him. He finds there are many more, and as you continue to belt out a chorus along with each of his movements, he suddenly thinks: fuck everything else. Fuck the things he is supposed to be doing to you. Fuck the lessons he is supposed to be teaching you. Fuck the training that is supposed to be putting you in your place. He needs to see you. 

Your head lifts and you look back at him as best you can when he leaves your body. “Why did you st–”

“Turn over,” he demands with heavy breaths.

“What?”

You’re not fast enough. His hands firmly grip your hips and he flips you onto your back, spreading your legs and stuffing himself back inside of you. You moan. Your eyelashes flutter. Your mouth stays perfectly parted as you reach over your head to tighten your fingers into the pillow. 

That’s exactly what he wanted, and that’s all it takes to shun his cares for anything other than the way you look beneath him. His chest meets yours and he darts his tongue out to lick the bottom of your upper lip before capturing your mouth with his. You kiss him just as much as he is kissing you. You touch him as much as he is touching you. Your legs wrap around him, taking everything he has until his hips stutter and he’s coating the walls that are milking him with each pulsating squeeze. 

He pulls out with ragged breaths, body falling beside yours, and as you both stare at the ceiling, his mind finally clears with the sudden realization that what he just did might’ve stolen some of his power and handed it to you. You know of the Harkonnens’ cruelty—everyone does—but what he gave you was not that, and he cannot allow you to get the wrong impression.

“You're mine,” he reminds you. “I own you. You follow my orders. Don’t irritate me. Don’t speak unless I am the one speaking to you. You go where I tell you to go. You do what I want you to do. And don’t get any ideas that you’re not disposable to me.”

Minutes pass in silence, but then you say, “What happens if you end up liking me?”

That question hits him right in the gut. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what the fuck happens if he likes you more than he already does. It won’t do him any good; he knows that. 

His back teeth clench. “I won't,” he says. “So don’t ever ask me that again.”

[catiuskaa]

reggaeton & champagne.

PAIRING! lee minho x reader x bang chan

SUMMARY: you knew better than to go down to the club alone. and that guy should’ve known better than to mess with minho and chan’s property.

REQUESTED! by my pookie @sharonxdevi who requested this here! and it’s such a good idea, tysm for trusting me with it<3

CW: the boys may come off as a little possesive, there’s a touchy douche in the club, mentions of alcohol, it ain’t spicy but surely it’s nsfw.

WC: 2.3k

A/N: so i’ve never even thought of writing poly!skz relationships until now, but i think it came out nicely! (and if you kinda recognize the title— i just spend an unhealthy amount of time watching skz edits on instagram lololol)

[🔹☆💠☆🔹]

The sign of the club glowed with bluish neon lights at the entrance. There was also a man, notebook in hand, receiving IDs prior to welcoming the long queue of people. Although it was not the most expensive nightclub in the city, you could see the difference between it and the rest of the clubs in town, in the sense that the establishment was very tidy and clean, with security personnel scattered around the corners, watching that everything was going out smoothly.

It was unusual for you to want to go out clubbing, but considering the boys’ schedule, any chance to make plans together was welcomed with open arms.

Especially by Minho and Chan, who would never force you to go out, but their lingering stares and their arms that would sneakily clung to your waist or your shoulders —and in some cases, to lovingly slap your ass or thighs—, were meant as a way of encouragement when you dressed up and went for it.

And a way to say that, as always, you looked fine as hell.

You had chosen a short silver-coloured dress that reached your mid-thighs, accompanied by a pair of matching mesh thigh-highs with cute little clips that allowed them to stay in place, only because you knew how to entertain your public, and loved every single second their eyes stayed glued to you as you danced your heart out.

The music pounded against the walls and reverberated through the floor, but not as much as how the booze traveled through your veins, only giddy enough to celebrate how well their last tour had gone, and merely to have some well-deserved fun.

Minho’s hands grasped you by your waist, pulling you off Chan’s arms and smirking as he pushed your back flush against his body.

One of his hands remained in place, but the other one moved slowly, tempting fingers heading down to your thighs, as if walking, the motion almost ticklish. You could feel his cat-like grin from behind you as you looked at Chan, who wasn’t mad at all, rather cheekily enjoying the other man’s antics as you kept dancing against him, following the rhythm of the music.

Chris got closer to the both of you, taking your arms and settling them on his shoulders as he approached even further, now the two gentlemen dressed in fine clothes towering over you.

“Our princess is feeling good today, huh?” His hand cradled your face, holding your chin in a tender grasp, unlike Minho, who started to play with one of the clips on your high mesh stockings.

You were about to say something, but Minho tugged at one of the straps and chuckled next to your ear, slapping it back. Your breath hitched, and you bit your lip, feeling the blush rising to your cheeks, the light foundation you had applied not being able to cover it.

Chris snickered, and Minho lightly bit the shell of your ear, and they both laughed as you squirmed in between their arms.

“Ok, ok—!” You giggled, out of breath due to the tickling and else. You didn’t want to leave just yet, but didn’t want to stop teasing your boys either.

Tugging on Chan’s collar, you propelled him forward, his hands ending on Minho’s shoulders by reflex. You moved your body in between both of them, swaying your hips, playing with Chris’ hair as you turned your head to face the man behind you, and chuckled, biting his lip.

They both felt a rush of blood heading to their face—and downwards—, but you stopped Chan for pushing you against Minho even more, one of your soft hands nonchalantly moving from the back of his neck to his chest, cheekily stroking his toned upper body.

“I think we can use some more drinks, gentlemen.” Your tone was filled with an enticing mockery only powered by their presence, and you licked your lips, feeling Minho’s slender fingers playing with the rim of your dress, tapping your thigh gently.

“I think we should head to the VIP lounge.” He grunted against your ear, his breath tickling your there, but the gentle yet lust-filled kisses he left right below started driving you a bit crazy. “Whaddya think, Chan?” Minho smirked, swiftly lifting his head from your neck to stare at the older man.

With all the mix of bright coloured lights, you could notice slightly how Chris’ eyes grew darker. Almost so dark that they could fuck you themselves, and you squeezed your thighs at the thought.

“I think our little brat needs to learn that teasing won’t get her anywhere, hyung.” Minho’s slender fingers playfully traced mindless shapes on your thigh.

The older man swallowed hard, his breath deepening.

“Guess you’re on thin ice, princess.” He leaned in, and pecked Minho’s lips from above your shoulder. He then turned slightly, and spoke in your ear. “You have ten minutes to go get those drinks. Go up the VIP platform right after, like the good girl you are, mmh?”

His hum almost echoed through your body, falling into an endless pit of arousal that those two gorgeous men had created, now able to make you feel hot and bothered in just a cheeky wink or a deep look.

Making you oh so weak for them. Only them.

“Heard that, kitten?” Minho smirked, lovingly kissing your cheek, as close as he could to the corner of your lips. “Ten minutes. Tick-tock.”

You tried heading towards the bar without your knees giving out as they both moved away, and instantly missed their warmth and strong hold on your body. But before you could even try, Chris tsked, pulling you back to him and almost fiercely planting a deep kiss that lit fire on your body, and almost made you whine when he pulled away, biting your lip.

“Fuck.” He gasped, feeling breathless. “Make that five minutes for daddy, yeah?”

And with a tap on your hips and a teasing wink, he left, following where Minho had gone.

You were unable to wipe the giddy smile off your face, feeling your cheeks get hot, and you patted them, hoping that your slightly cooler hands would do something to low it down.

Shaking your head lightly, you waved at the bartender, a tall, blond and handsome young man, and he gave you a kind smile. You sat on the stool closest, and he approached you, leaning on the counter.

“Nice seeing you here for a change.” He said with a snicker.

“Wish I could say the same, Hyunjin.” You wiggled your eyebrows almost dramatically, making him laugh.

“Your three usuals, beautiful?” He asked with a grin, and you nodded. “Comin’ right up.”

You watched as he gracefully started to show off his abilities, passing drinks and metal cups and bottles in flashes and zooms, controlling every move so swiftly.

But then, you felt a hand on your waist.

“Sorry, scooching up real quick…” said a low voice from behind you.

His hands brushed your back, making you shiver. But it was a bad shiver. One that swiped away the giddiness your boys had left, but not as quickly as your smile took off.

The bold man dizzily sat on a stool that could’ve easily been a foot or two away, and your body relaxed easily at the new-formed distance.

You stared at him in a mix of slight disgust and raw astonishment. Used to your boys and the rest of the group, or people like Hyunjin, one could easily forget that people weren’t always respectful, nice and kind.

He noticed your blank stare, and misinterpreted it as interest. With a wide smile, he bent down, grabbing one of the legs of the stool you were sitting on, and smoothly moved it closer to his.

Another shiver ran through your back, goosebumps showing on your skin.

He smiled, and you held back a frown.

“Besides looking that sexy, what else do you do for a living?”

…

yikes.

That line didn’t only give you the ick, but you also noticed Hyunjin physically flinched, which made you snort, quickly covering your mouth.

The man was so drunk. You could smell it on his breath, and the guy looked rather pathetic. You didn’t feel too sorry for him, but wanted him as far as possible, and you moved to the edge of your stool.

The man looked proud of your giggles, but grew restless when you didn’t reply, so he took a sip from the glass of whiskey in front of him, kind of as if he hadn’t had anything to drink in a while.

You sat up straight, glaring at Hyunjin so he’d call security if things turned complicated, and he winked at you as a form of reassurance.

“Do you, eh, come here often?” He blurbed out.

You looked at your hands, staring at your nails, and waited for a second before giving him a side-eye from above your shoulder, slender eyes looking uninterested.

Quickly going back to your nails, you shrugged. “Enough to know that you don’t.” You brushed off coldly.

If you did, you’d know that I’m happily taken.

He stammered, his breath hitched, and you could almost feel him start getting even more nervous, as well as slightly angry.

“Huh? Why’s that?” He scoffed, eyebrows raised at you, who again, didn’t bother to look at him, a bit wary of his moody attitude.

Hyunjin smiled at you, coldly glaring at the clueless man next to you as he swiftly left the three drinks in place, pressing the red button underneath the counter to call for help.

The man smirked, going back to a confidence you didn’t want to know where he had gotten.

Placing his arm sneakily on your waist.

Huh?

“All those for you?”

Before you could react and slap him for his unrequested bold actions, you heard a grunt behind you.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

At that moment, Chan wasn’t so sure if he was the pacific one in your relationship.

He trusted you and your ability to set your own boundaries, by any means necessary, even if it meant slapping someone across the face.

And he knew them by heart. He had watched how you grimaced, trying to take this drunkard’s hands away from you.

So he helped you by slapping them off your body.

As ‘gently’ as he could.

“Move aside.” He said in a low growl, failing to relax until you moved your hand and took his, squeezing it as a way of thanking him.

Instead of getting the hint, the man frowned.

“Hey, if you can’t tell, I was trying to—”

Minho scoffed, appearing behind the man.

“Keep babbling around our girl and I’ll give you a story to tell.” He said in a dark, low tone of voice, eyes and tongue so sharp that they could almost pierce right through the man. “Now shoo.”

Security came by a minute after and apologized for not taking care of him before, then fined him, following the nightclub’s rules and finally kicked the man out.

One of the security guys approached the three of you, and bowed swiftly, apologizing.

“I’m really sorry. This guy has already annoyed some other customers before. I’ll speak to the owner of the place and see if there is something we can do regarding his situation. As for you, miss…” He gave you his card, and you smiled at him, bowing your head gently.

“My name is Seo Changbin. If you ever need anything…” he sighed, a hand to his nape, the buff man slightly flustered. “Don’t hesitate to call me. I can’t think of another way to compensate you…”

Chan smiled, and shook hands with the security guard.

“No need to worry, mate. It’s fine now.” He stated calmly, his other hand still engulfing yours.

Minho bowed at him, his arm around your waist, as if trying to erase any marks or traces of the drunkard’s touch.

“Home, love?” He said in a gentle whisper, kissing your temple after you nodded. “S’okay.”

Minho opened the door to the car for you, and Chan’s hand never left your thigh the whole way back home.

As soon as you got back, you let out a tired sigh.

Chris hugged you from behind, and you melted under his touch. With a soft grin, Minho ushered Chan’s arms away from you, and swiftly took you in his arms.

“Sleepy?” The older one asked, but you shook your head. You didn’t want the night to end on this note. “Then I’ll go get something. You guys get going.” He smiled at you, eyes soft as he lovingly stroke your cheek, your face resting on Minho’s shoulder.

With a slight smirk, he patted Minho’s butt, and headed to his studio.

“Bang Chan!” He whisper-yelled, ears red, and you chuckled lowly.

“Cheeky little baby.” Minho cooed at you, heading to your shared room, and you giggled softly, hiding your head on the crook of his neck. “Let us take care of you, yeah?”

You moved your head from his neck and pecked his lips. Minho took you to bed, and tenderly took your heels off.

“Shower?” He asked softly, but you shook your head no, so he nodded, taking off your dress. With a cat-like grin, his fingers went back to your thighs.

“You have to wear these more often, you little tease.” He snickered, and you smiled, blushing softly. “You look so good in everything.” He said, stroking your cheek.

Chan quickly came back, fluffy blankets and laptop with him.

“Movie night!” He smiled, almost childishly, and both your and Minho’s heart tugged on your chests.

They took their fancy clothes off and put on sleeveless shirts and the matching pyjama pants you had gifted them for Christmas, who were at first meant as a joke, but remained being used just because how comfy they were.

There, snuggled between Chan and Minho, you smiled, taking both of their hands.

“I’m hungry.” You said, pouting unconciously.

“We can make popcorn if you want.” Christ suggested, pausing the movie.

You sat in your knees, looking at them with a smirk.

Minho smirked back, starting to guess where this was headed.

“What do you want to eat, kitten?”

You snickered.

“I want to have ramen.”

~kats, who hopes everyone understood that kdrama reference just now ;););););)

[unholyhelbig]

I just want to say I'm already hooked on the beast you made me. I can't wait for the next chapter!

Center picture Cred: Jadiakallisti

Title: The Beast You've Made of Me [Part 2/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Wordcount: 5151

Summary: When reader wakes up in her own grave, she's suddenly aware of a past that spans lifetimes, but she's not the only one. Two Avengers are tasked with keeping readers past a secret, or at the very least, controlled.

Warnings: Blood, fatal injuries, animal bones, mentions of death, containment, and horrible grammar because I don't proofread

[a/n: Thank you all for the overwelming support on the first chapter! I truly didn't expect that much reception. I'm going to be traveling for the next week so the next chapter might be delayed a bit]

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

1917, Rural Pennsylvania

A sweeping river cut through the patch of sweetgrass on the south side of the farm. It emitted a gurgling sound that often soothed your nerves. There was a rocky clearing sandwiched between the tree line and the plain of grass that had become a perfect spot for you to settle in and read the hard-covered books you’d gotten from the corner store.

Your father would bring back any book you requested from the city during his travels. You devoured them faster than he could provide them and had read ‘Eight Cousins’ ,Lousia May Alcott’s foray into the adventures thirteen-year-old Rose, enough to nearly tear the pages from the binding.

The book itself held the clean honeyed scent of the earth, of the secluded spot that you called your own. Your muscles would thrum from loading the bales of hay into your fathers ford. Your fingers were calloused, and dirt caked around your ankle in a dark ring. All of that vanished when you cracked open the book about a girl that was so much like yourself.

It was easy to lose yourself in the paragraphs, the hum of the river sometimes lulling you to sleep. Your mother would pack you a sandwich on warm, hand-kneaded bread, usually some salted meat and mayonnaise. She’d pack sweet tea and send you on your way, knowing that you wouldn’t return to the house until you saw a flicker of a firefly.

Today, you’d fallen asleep under the sun. The book was discarded, and your forearm draped across your eyes. It was easy to drift, and easier still to dream about leaving the small dairy farm for something bigger- the very city that your father would return from with new literature and arts, and spices that made your mouth buzz with flavor.

You were in a haze when the ear-piercing scream cut through the air as if it were a natural solid. Your ears pinched at the sound, heels digging into the coarse sandy shore. Maybe it was a dream. It could have been an animal that had sunk its pointed teeth into the artery of another.

So, you waited, panting with your heart in your chest and the corner of the book barely lapped by the muddied water. And there was this sound. It was no fox caught in a trap or bovine tangled up in the barbed wire fence around the property- no, this was familiar. This was your sister.

Helena was quiet, often described as demure and borderline submissive. Despite being younger than yourself she carried a certain poise about her. Mother would often boast about how she would have no trouble finding a husband, how the boys already fawned over the child of hers that was not feral and unkempt.

Her cry was the loudest you had ever heard her and it had you on your feet, scrambling up the bank. Once past your small world of wonder, you were greeted with an endless sea of sweetgrass that was waist high in some areas.

A warm breeze created waves against the landscape, the farmhouse a small speck among the expanse of land. Your head was spinning, it was hard to track exactly where it had come from. It took another cracking screech to set you North.

Your legs pumped until you were consumed in a blind speed. You’d been renowned for your quickness, for your dedication to get from point A to point B. The kids in your town often joked that you were steadier than a steed. Not only were you the fastest in the class, but the fastest in the county according to some. Still- only a child of fifteen, and no man would want to wed someone with speed. It wasn’t a practical skill.

There was a pit deep in your stomach whirled, instinct knowing precisely where Helena was yowling from.

Jorge had gotten there at the same time you did; his brow was leaking with sweat and he panted against the hot air that surrounded you both. Your older brother was tall and lanky, serpent-like with beady black eyes and pitch hair to match your father’s. His shirt hung low against his midsection, his skin pale despite his hours in the sun working the fields.

“Stay back, y/n.” He demanded sharply.

The old well was a mere foot in front of you both but neither made the effort to move forward. The aged wooden plank that covered the stone shaft had been splintered through the middle, worn from age and weather.

Helena’s soft cries echoed up. When your father had first acquired the property, the previous owners explained that it had been boarded up after of the bulls had fallen down and snapped it’s neck. It was too large to pull out and they left it to starve and then rot.

Your father never let any of his children peer down into the well. You wondered if something had pulled Helena here, or if she had simply forgotten of it’s existence. Jorge dropped down to his knees and did a cautious crawl as if his own two feet couldn’t’ hold him anymore.

You saw the exact moment his skin became waxier, almost a gray porcelain paleness that had a green tint. He was swallowing too much, his white shirt coated in the red clay dirt.

“What?” You asked, voice breaking “What is it?”

“Go get Mama.”

It would have been easy to listen to your brother. He was the man of the house when your father wasn’t there but with him pleading for your mother, for an adult, you got a rancid taste in your mouth.

Against your better judgement you edged close enough to the abandoned well. The sun was setting in a fire-filled orange haze with enough color and angle to get a good view of the bottom; a slosh of fallen grass and rainwater, and muck, and yes; the bones of a beast once left to decay and rot in its own silence.

Your sister was wedged within the ribcage of the befallen bull, almost as if she replaced the beating heart that stopped pulsing long ago. Her hands gripped at the sun-bleached bone, knuckles nearly the same color.

It took you a moment to make out the slick, and the red that stemmed from the center of her stomach. The head of the bull had shattered under her weight, all expect the stretching length of it’s curved horn. That was wedged through her abdomen, surrounded in a vibrant rose red that puddled and had already coated her hands.

Prints from her struggle were against the limestone edges of the well. Her eyes pleaded up at you; your kind and caring, and animal-loving sister was trapped inside the remains of one. You fought back the urge to vomit, the rash thought that if the bone ripping through her flesh didn’t kill her, then infection would.

“Y/n get mama!” Jorge hissed again, and this time you didn’t hesitate. You nearly tripped over your own boots with the fever it took to back away from the scene, the metallic scent of blood mixing deliciously with the turn of rotted soil.

You had never run so fast in your life.

Wanda Maximoff had never felt the cold that wormed its way to her bones before. It was the type of cold that almost wasn’t, a stinging, horrible feeling that had her startled from the folded metal chair. It collapsed within itself as the blinked the wine-dark color from her eyes.

She stumbled backward, only to be brought back to the starkness of the room by a soft grip on her elbow. Wanda allowed herself to be held, if not for stability but for comfort. Steve Rodgers had a welcoming hand on the small of her back, the other steadying her.

He was a solid force, and her reaction stirred him.

“Fuck,” the expletive fell from her lips, “Jesus Christ.”

There was quietness to the room in the aftershock of the fallen chair. It was nicer than a standard holding cell. The walls were cream colored, triple enforced to keep people like you inside. There was a bed bolted to the wall, a bunk that was almost like a summer camp endeavor.

A charged glass wall was blocking you from the rest of the world. It was seemingly unbreakable, and in this moment, so were you. Wanda didn’t want to test the glass, nor did she know how to make sense of the memories- your memories- that had flooded every inch of her body.

You were asleep, chest rising and falling at a normal pace, as if none of what Wanda had just seen was flitting around your mind. Soft snores pushed past your lips, one arm hanging over the side of the bed while the other followed the flow of your breathing as it rested on your chest.

Wanda didn’t understand the secrecy and the precaution that surrounded you. The Avengers compound was a constant ebb and flow of different heroes, Inhumans and mutants. What made you so different? What made you an 0-8-4?

It was a term that Natasha had used only once that was usually attached to objects, not a person. It was an object of unknown origin and in that case, it was a power-filled object from space. Space. She’d been through different dimensions, but that, for some reason, struck her as terrifying.

0-8-4’s were never brought here, but then again, they’d never been alive either. Steve had told her that your energy signal was off the charts, and that they wanted her to dig around your head. Something that she denied doing at first. It was an invasion of privacy.

But, there was a certain pleading within Captain America’s eyes that scared Wanda more than the personal rules she set for herself when it came to her power. What she had seen, what she had felt was barely scraping the surface of what your mind contained. She wasn’t keen on pushing past that barrier for the conclusion of that story. Was it even yours?

“What? Wanda, what is it?”

“I… I don’t” She shook her head, eyes hardening as she stared into Steve’s “Where did you find her?”

He hesitated to answer, his eyebrows furrowing before he looked away from the witches’ prying eyes. She’d been part of this team for years now and they were still reluctant with what they were willing to share. Wanda clenched her jaw, then unclenched it before her stare flashed back to your resting form.

There was a small frown that creased your features. You looked so… harmless. You had shifted, folded into yourself as if you were scratching the surface of what flashed before her. Your arm was folded under your head, knees flush to your chest. A small, beautiful whimper escaped you.

“She’s in distress, Steve.”

“Discomfort, more like. It’s better for all of us that she stays in there for right now. The last thing we want to do is harm anyone but if that requires some temporary-“

“Imprisonment?”

“Containment.” He said firmly, eyes hard. Wanda crossed her arms over her chest but stayed silent, letting him continue. She was sure she wouldn’t have been asked if not for her ability to worm her way into minds, to rearrange things. “What did you see?”

“A memory, one that can’t possibly be hers. The timeline doesn’t fit, this is a woman in her mid-twenties and who I saw was barely a teenager on a farmstead. To experience that much tragedy, that much fear and heartache.”

She started to pace, trying to not only work through her own thoughts, but yours as well. It could have been a story, and she was convinced of the fact save for the vividness. There was the feeling of grass tickling her arms and the sharp, undeniable stench of blood.

“Her younger sister died, fell through some rotted wood and fell to her death.” Wanda’s fingers pressed against the edge of her hairline. “She could have lived, but I have my doubts.”

He lifted a perfectly sculpted brow at her. His expression betrayed his compassion towards you, his stance uncomfortable with the topic. While the revelation was heartbreaking it hardly made you extraordinary. They’d all lost people, none had stirred Wanda as you did.

Wanda’s stare found his after darting to you once more, “Steve, I have the sinking feeling that what I saw was only scratching the surface. There are hundreds, maybe thousands, of memories that were pressing in on all sides.”

The sensation of being observed is what pulled you from your fitful sleep. Exhaustion had washed over you like a tidal wave, all at once and leaving your mouth dry like a spoonful of salt. There was a stiffness that rivaled that of the grave you’d crawled out of, and you hoped that it was all a dream.

You were in your bed, in your apartment, after having one too many drinks. It was a horrible stretching nightmare that had plunged you into one sea of darkness from another. But even you weren’t that naïve.

Just as you felt a stranger’s eyes on you now, you had felt the dirt under your nails, the cold sodium-filled takeout as you attempted to chew it. More than anything, you remembered the burning feeling of the Black Widow pressed fully against your back, bending you over Jenn’s kitchen counter.  

“I would prefer if you kept the feeling of my wife’s body against yours out of your mind.”

You shot up with a dizzying amount of quickness, heart suddenly in your chest. There was an imbalance to the bed that you were laying on. It was smaller than your own and unfamiliar. The room was stark white. It hurt your eyes and you had to blink the color away. You pressed the heels of your palms close to your eyes.

It felt as if you were locked in a glass shower with an audience and stage lights. The more you looked, the more you realized it was a room, something with no personal effects but a bed and a dimmer switch that you itched to utilize.

A pitcher of water was on an end table. It wasn’t color exactly, but it was more than the rest of your surroundings. Possibly with the worst manners you’d ever exhibited, you drank straight from the pitcher, not remembering the last time you had a drink. Suddenly, you were parched enough to soak your collar.

Despite your audience, you continued until you felt your stomach protest. You used the back of your hand to wipe away the moisture, black dirt was smeared across your skin. It was then, and only then, that you forced yourself to look past the walls of your prison, your enclosure.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” The woman said, walking close to the glass. You could see her clearly now, there was an heir of recognition about her, in the same way that there had been with the Black Widow.

“You were in my head.”

“For a while. It’s my job. But your thoughts are also deafening.”

“Sorry,”

This woman was intoxicating. Alluring and beautiful in her presence. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt hugging her form. You weren’t positive what time it was- what day it was- but it could be late into the night. She looked like she was roused from sleep, and a part of you felt guilty for the fact.

“Don’t apologize, sweetie.” Her voice was much more tender than it had been a few moments ago. “You can’t control being brought back from the dead. A lot of trauma comes with that.”

You stood shakily and walked closer to the glass. They’d taken your shoes and the tile under your feet was frigid. You crossed your arms over your chest and shivered into yourself. You didn’t want to think about the fact that they had undressed you, probably taken your clothes for testing. Instead they left you in a blue set of scrubs.

You averted your stare from your own reflection, not willing or ready to look too hard. You’d much rather look at this stranger, your heart not slowing, your head pounding. Nothing but a simple pane of glass separated you.

“And I was brought back from the dead, wasn’t I? That wasn’t a fucked-up dream where I got hit by a car and then poof God, if there is one, decided that me of all people was worth bringing back.”

She lilted her head, quirked an amusing brow at you. A chill flushed down your spine and seemed to fizzle out at your toes. This woman was gorgeous and terrifying and made you want to squirm. But if this was prison, you had to assert dominance. Right? That’s what Wentworth taught you.

This cell didn’t look or feel like Wentworth, and this Warden had an amused smile tacked to her lips like she had heard your every thought. And she had. At least you assumed that she did. She’d mentioned her wife earlier, and the woman’s body against your own was plaguing you like a runaway freight train.

When she didn’t say anything, you clawed to fill the silence “I want to talk to Bruce.”

“Bruce? Honey, he’s off world.”

“Off… world.” You laughed, softly at first but then almost manically, tears forming in your eyes that you wiped away with your cold fingers. “No, no, that’s really cool. I worked a 9-5 and now I can’t talk to Bruce because he’s in Outer Space.”

“Maybe not outer space, maybe another dimension.”

You leveled her with a humorless glare. She had both of her hands up as if she wanted to comfort you, or the caged animal you had become. You had to give her credit, she seemed just as horrified as you were. She offered up a dim, faltering smile.

There wasn’t a way for you to process this in a gentle manner, there was no one to guide you through it other than Jenn. She’d done this before, lived a whole life that was flipped upside-down and she’d come out on the other side. It was the uncertainty that scared the hell out of you.

“You were in my head earlier,” You stopped suddenly, pressing your fingers against the glass. The woman didn’t flinch. Your frantic breath fogged with each exhalation. “Do you know why I came back?”

She shook her head, “No. Do you remember what you were dreaming about?”

“No.” A weak chuckle, you let your hands drop. “At least we’re on the same page.”

The nurse they allowed to enter through the side of the containment unit took cautious steps towards you that made your chest ache. All your life, people had said how welcoming and kind you were; how they were never afraid to come to you with their worries. It had bothered you before the incident, before your death, but now you missed seeing the stare of those who didn’t harbor any fear.

She was small, a mouse of a thing that had pale blonde hair and startling blue eyes. Her name tag read Julia. Your mind rushed with the paths she’d taken to this place. She must be interning here, much too young to hold a classification herself.

Your finger twitched on your knee, palm sweaty. It’s heat radiated through the thin blue fabric of the pants they’d provided you with. You hated needles, always had. But, you struggled to stay still and the effect that had on poor nurse Julia was making you fidget more.

There was a scent about her. It was under the layers of hairspray, nail polish, and shea butter. It was a sweet metal that made your stomach swirl. Was it her sweat? You’d never smelt anything past walking by the bomb that was the boys locker room, and it certainly had never been this tantalizing before.

Your eyes met hers, crystal blue and uncertain. “You’ll just feel a little pinch”

This is when you pulled your gaze back and instead focused on the cream colored walls. There was no problem with needles, you’d dutifully sit for your flu shots, but something about the sharp edge pushing through a layer of skin and fat before hitting your vein made you nauseous.

“We just need enough to run a few tests.” Julia soothed.

She was a normal nurse in that one, small way. Your mind was itching, blood seeming to congeal. It refused to cooperate and her burning touch was all but dominant against your skin. You both waited for the small tube to fill with black liquid. 

Finally, you felt her press the gauze against the crook of your arm and withdraw the needle. Another small pinch and then a massive relief. Her smell hung around you and filled the room. There was an undeniable urge to sink your teeth into her. To taste her.

You’d stopped the elevator just hours before to assess your penchant for brain consumption, but this wasn’t that. This was an intoxicating pull. This was animalistic, the same rush of emotion that had flooded you without prompting during your earlier conversation.

Julia squeezed your shoulder calmly, not entirely over her own reservations, but on the penance that she was a nurse and this was her job. You kept yourself rooted to the bed, fingers digging into the wood. She left the room and you could hear the compressed lock reseal you inside, breathing a sigh of relief.

That sweet odor lingered, and your reaction to it scared you more than anything. The wood beneath your fingertips splintered, and suddenly that anger, that fear, rolled away to shock. That wasn’t… normal. None of this was normal, but you weren’t exactly picked first in sports either.

You were a middle kid, a I guess I wouldn’t mind having you on my team kid. Suddenly your fingers were cutting through wood like it was butter. You let out an indignant squeak and shifted the blanket until the slashes were covered.

“Is everything alright?”

Wanda, you had learned that her name was Wanda, occupied her usual spot in front of the window. A slick sweat covered your forehead. She was holding a small tray that had a steaming bowl of soup and a delicious hunk of French bread.

“I figured you were hungry,” She lifted her chin towards the panel next to your door. “May I?”

“I’m at your mercy.”

And you were, truly. You hadn’t seen anyone but her since you’d woken up. There were shadows of others, people that made the pit in the center of your stomach grow three sizes. You knew exactly what they were doing, you watched enough true crime with Jennifer to know.

Here was this beautiful and powerful woman offering you food and words of comfort, and you allowed yourself to fall for all of it. Listlessly. Because what did you have to lose? You’d already died, and the thought of putting your family through the heartache of resurrection and then possibly enough committal to the ground was too much.

So, let her Stockholm syndrome you. The food smelled divine.

Wanda didn’t hold the same fear that Julia had. In fact, once the compression of air signified that it was okay for her to enter, she did so without hesitation. She set the food down on the equally dull side table and lowered herself onto the corner of the bed, making herself at home.

She’d changed into a pair of jeans, a simple t-shirt that had the outline of SHIELD on its sleeve. You frowned, for a company that does everything in its power to keep itself hidden, they sure loved that stupid bird so much.

“Go on, sweetie. You can eat.”

Wanda had a command about her that made you fold and listen despite any reservations. You took up a spot on the far end of the bed and shoveled the first spoonful into your mouth. An explosion of heady flavors coated your tongue, coaxing a low moan from your lips.

Blush rushed to your cheeks at the spark in the set of stormy eyes that watched you like a hawk. You rushed to break the tension. “So, what’s the plan here? Run a bunch of tests and keep me locked up?”

“Somewhat.” She paused, carefully thinking of her next words. “Y/n, I have the ability to get inside the psyche. Not only can I read every thought, every action, but I can control them too. It’s not something I like to do, nor something I want to. Not without permission.”

You frowned again. You certainly hadn’t given her permission to enter your mind before, and she tensed at the realization. But, you took another bite of soup and swallowed down the spiced broth. What’s done was done. You didn’t expect her to ask, much less admit to her wrongdoing.

“I prefer to ask. Can you tell me what you do for work?”

“Paralegal, the bar seemed like too much stress. But I’m good at my job. I was good at my job before a car turned me into sidewalk art.”

“Right, and your family, what about them?”

There was no desire to think of them and their perfect lives that you’d shattered with your death. Your mother used to sit in the tepid air on the porch swing, downing a glass of wine before she turned to you with tears in her eyes. She’d urge you to be careful working in the city. She’d plead for you to come home. More than anything, she’d utter the phrase a mother should never outlive her daughter.

“My mother is a seventh grade biology teacher and my father runs a painting business that’s been operating my whole life. They’re not very exciting people. They must be worried sick about me.”

Wanda nodded, “Any siblings?”

“Not anymore.”

She stilled at your words and didn’t pry. You were well aware of the fact that she could push through your deflections and learn the information that she wanted to know. But, you respected that she didn’t. Instead, she stared at you, and you stared right back, suddenly not hungry.

Wanda was someone that you felt the need to open-up to. Unlike the brief encounter you had had with her wife. Not that you let that word stick with you, not in the same way that her touch did. Again, you had to push the thoughts to the back of your mind, even if Wanda wasn’t prying.

Instead, she placed a warm hand on your thigh, sending a wave of shivers through your body. You suppressed a whimper at the sudden contact.

“I had a brother named Pietro. He was fast, unnaturally so. Neither of us ever wanted to be heroes, we didn’t think about the future like that. So, when the Avengers, these so-called saviors of the world, recruited us, we knew about the dangers. But it still shocked me when he died. He was my brother. He wasn’t supposed to be fragile like that.”

You stared at her with an amount of tenderness in your eyes that she wasn’t used to from the others. They cared, sure, but in the way that a co-worker would care enough to purchase cut flowers and a ‘sorry for your loss’ card. You were different.

“They’re our protectors.” You swallowed hard, mouth dry “when something drastic happens, it doesn’t seem real.”

“It still doesn’t.”

There was a lapse of silence that pushed memories in your direction. The burning cold weather on the day your own brother had died. You remember the scream that died in your throat and the way you’d knelt in the cracked snow until you couldn’t’ feel your legs or your fingers. It took an EMT with a heated blanket and a horror story about hypothermia to pull you to your feet.

“Jonathan.” You whispered.

She let out a questioning hum, pulling her feet from the floor and making herself more comfortable on the less-than-comfortable bed. “Your brother?”

“My older brother. I followed him around like a lost puppy, but he never complained. He was a hockey player and a damn good one too. He’d use the lake behind our house in Jersey to practice and one winter the ice broke underneath him. He drowned, and I was too weak to save him.”

Wanda let out a shuddered breath. You couldn’t read her facial expression. It was a mix of confusion, or sadness, but not pity and that was something you appreciated. You’d had enough pity, just as your family had enough grief without you adding to it.

She opened her mouth to reply, but both of you were startled when three quick knocks shattered the silence. The Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff, stood on the other side. She showed no interest in breeching the containment unit. Instead, she leveled her wife with a dark stare and held up a folded piece of paper.

“Excuse me,” Wanda whispered, giving your leg a settling squeeze.

She left the plate and exited the holding cell. Her words were muffled, but those unripe green eyes that Natasha possessed kept flicking to you nervously. She too, didn’t’ show pity. It was interest and if you were being honest, you thought you saw the smallest spark of fear.

Wanda took the paper from her wife, squinted at something you couldn’t’ see. You felt like you were at a parent teacher conference, just out of bounds of hearing but you could see their body language; the way that Natasha itched to move closer to Wanda, the fingers that the taller woman pressed to her lips, thumb creasing the paper.

Finally, Wanda turned back towards the glass. Natasha met your stare without issue, hitting the intercom on the other side of the cell. It was her who spoke, her raspy voice falling from the speaker.

“In the spirit of transparency, we want to be honest with you about your blood results.”

You stood from the bed, moving to one side of the barrier. They were intimidating like that, standing shoulder to shoulder with a natural beauty. It made you want to shrink. If not for the paper in their hands you would have curled into yourself at the sight.

“Don’t tell me I’m dying.”

“No, honey.” Wanda shook her head, “Quite the opposite, you’re getting stronger.”

“I don’t understand.”

Natasha lifted an eyebrow and pressed the paper against the glass so you could read it. None of it made sense, it was lines of DNA that looked like musical notes. You shook your head, giving her a confused look.

Natasha scoffed, peeling the paper from the surface of glass. Wanda bit her thumbnail nervously. “According to these…You’re Asgardian, Kitten.”

[Taglist💕: @dannipotatoo, @non-binary-frogking, @mysticalmoonlight7, @metanoiablxxm, @coxlong, @b3nzzzzz, @simpforlizzie, @delulu-bayolet-era, @dorabledewdroop, @crescentcrush, @roselockwood, @ellieromanov, @leenasayeed, @theowlappears, @pitifulbinx, @pepemyfantasy, @tekanparadiae, @skittlebum, @mariabeloskivismyoc, @natsbiggestfan1, @marvelwomen-simp, @cinffy23, @kyky-maximoff, @natalierushmansstuff, @bstvst, @lezzylover, @404-almostdone, @mishimrno, @maxidentbby, @shayarshucky, @merlinsouls, @neothepotato]

[causenessus]

cold kisses

part 0.05. intros.

NOW LIVE . . . THE MENTAL ASYLUM WAITLIST

l/n y/n ⋆꙳•❅*‧ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

figure skater and second year college student!! majoring in nutrition and trying her best but she’s definitely hanging onto sunarin for life :) is roomates with kenma bc they’re the only two out of all their friends that could afford splitting the rent for a nice apartment off of school property. she’s not that much richer than any of her other friends but when he asked her if she wanted to be his roommate she couldn’t stop herself from saying yes. she might be a little bit obsessed with winter and snow but it’s because she’s just spent so much time on the ice and in the cold. graduated from nekoma high and has remained good friends with kuroo and kenma. in high school she was like a part-time manager, popping in to help whenever she could and happily sat on the sidelines alongside their coach during games which introduced her to other volleyball players that she became closer with. as of now, she’s good friends with lots of other athletes who are struggling with her through nutrition while kuroo and kenma laugh at them from their distant majors.

iwaizumi hajime & suna rintaro ⋆꙳•❅*‧ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

hajime

third year in college studying sports science to become an athletic trainer. having all athletes for friends has its pros and cons 💀 he gets a lot of first-hand experience from helping them improve and take care of themselves but now every time they have an injury they come to him instead of an actual professional. y/n especially has latched onto him, coming to him for medical, athletic, and really advice on anything. designated caretaker of his group of leash kids. acts like he hates everyone but if one of his friends asked him for help he’d 100% drop everything to help them (at least for y/n, he might finish what he’s doing before helping noya). his shared dorm with suna is very clean and calm, they’ve worked very hard to have the most civilized room that their friends often crash at. (y/n has showed up multiple times to stay the night and get what feels like advice from her two manly parents with matching emotionless faces).

rin

second year in college staying afloat in nutrition sciences, not absolutely acing his classes but is far from failing. middle blocker for the college volleyball team. takes his job as the friend group’s court jester very seriously. did fight and win against noya for the title. has the most horrendous photos of everyone and will remind everyone of their existence periodically. also the runnerup caretaker of the group and actually has solid advice, he’s just not usually in a serious mood. hit it off with y/n immediately during a volleyball game between inarizaki and nekoma at nationals. he was taking pictures of atsumu dying on the floor after the game and looked up to see her literally doing the same of kenma who had flopped down to take a nap.

nishinoya yuu & tsukishima kei ⋆꙳•❅*‧ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

noya

second year in college! dropped out of nutrition sciences because he wanted to be with his friends but not even sitting next to tsukishima was preventing him from failing classes that he was already retaking (he’s lucky he’s literally the best libero out there and his scholarship is paying for everything). is now a loner communications major (with kageyama and hinata lmao) but still finds the time to visit his friends and sometimes walk with y/n to her class. he’s literally the best supporter (and enabler) and never fails to greet y/n with a popsicle after buying one for himself <3 loves to bully and tease tsukishima about everything and anything, definitely learned to bite him from hinata :) 

tsukishima

first year in college, thankful that his classes are finally peaceful without noya next to him every class (although he still has to return to his dorm that he shares with the feral demon every night). middle blocker for the vball team as well but he’s still a newbie 😞 is very adamant about not being considered a leash kid but then interacts with noya and disproves his own points. was basically adopted into y/n’s friend group the moment he got into college because suna and her made fun of him the first time they saw him in high school and then quickly snatched him before anyone else could befriend him.

m.list | next

[sjsmith56]

A Better Man - Complete

Summary: Bucky Barnes, a shy general contractor who also provides services for criminals, falls in love with the single mother of a baby girl. The father works for one of his rivals, and wants nothing to do with the woman or the baby. Can he be the better man for her?

Length: 10 parts

Characters: Bucky Barnes, named OFC, named OCC, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Winnifred Barnes, May Parker, Natasha Romanoff, Brock Rumlow, various Avengers in minor roles.

Warnings: Childhood trauma, angst, cursing, conflicting emotions, criminal behaviour, violence, no smut.

Author notes: This AU started out as a one shot but I got carried away and it just grew. A bit of a slow burn between Bucky (who is a softie) and OFC. There is some humour in this, as the guys of Barnes Contracting are sometimes dumbasses, but with hearts of gold.

All MCU character names are the property of Marvel / Disney. Original characters and the plot are the property of the author and all rights to those aspects are claimed by her. I DO NOT give permission to copying and pasting of any portion of this story into any other app or platform.

Listing of parts titles after the break. 🛠️ 👷‍♂️ 👩‍🍼

Part 1. Preparation

Part 2. Foundation

Part 3. Structure

Part 4. Connections

Part 5. Warmth

Part 6. Transformation

Part 7. Appearances

Part 8. Attachments

Part 9. Clean Up

Part 10. Walkthrough

Short Fiction Masterlist

Please support the author by reblogging.

[nightingale2004]

Severus Snape headcanon ideas

He has a journal that was gifted to him by his mother before he went to Hogwarts.

He writes everything in that journal. His thoughts, his feelings, ideas for potions, and spells, along with poetry. He even does little sketches in the journal (they're not half bad)

Ever since the marauders entered his life and his own house doesn't like him all that much, halfway through his first year at hogwarts, he casted a bunch of spells and runes on his journal so that way no one other than himself can open or see what is written inside the journal

The first page is titled "Property of the half-blood prince."

Severus never goes anywhere without it. He also casted a charm on it so that way whenever it's stolen or missing from his person, it will appear right next to him, in his bag, or in his hand

His journal also had dried plants and flowers from his journeys through the forbidden forest

The journal is very old and is held together by magic, pure determination, spite, and a dream (😂). Plus, he cherishes that journal

No one (I do mean NO ONE) has ever seen the inside of Severus's journal, including the marauders, his parents (his mother one time was granted access), his house mates, and even Lily

He once had an old walkman that he found in the streets and managed to fix it up from remembering, seeing how his father used to fix up machinery before the abuse

When he has a train compartment to himself, he immediately falls asleep (it's his only moment of peace!!!!!)

He secretly found the room of requirements that turns into a potions lab for him. He uses it for potion experiments

His experiments with potions have both literally and figuratively blown up in his face.

Would talk with the paintings of Hogwarts

Would find jewelry in the most random places and often wear some of them after he resizes them and cleans them

He loves dark and milk chocolate, along with raisins, and vanilla

Learned occlumency and legilimens very early in his Hogwarts years and has used it on more than one occasion

When he was a child, he couldn't dance to save his life, but McGonagall taught him everything she knew

He and McGonagall play wizards chess together

Before the bullying started, he secretly wanted to be James and Sirius's friend, but after they insulted his mother's house, that thought immediately vanished

Despite being very skinny, he throws an incredibly strong punch

If he did have an animagus form, it would either be a raven, crow, cat, or bat

He would brew health potions for the sick people in Cokeworth or those who couldn't afford decent medicine or medical attention. He became their young doctor and gets paid a bit on the side

Has done a lot of odd jobs in Cokeworth to help keep his home afloat

Whenever Tobias would kick him out, he would originally crash at the Evans home, but ever since the 'Mudblood' incident, he started crashing at some of the people he helped at Cokeworth's homes

He would wish he was born into the Evans family instead of the Snape family

Loves art and poetry

Has read chemistry books at the Muggle Library

He learned how to cook and bake when he was a kid

After the 'Prank' incident, he and Remus talked and have kinda sorta made amends, but there is still a wall (and rightfully so)

He loves science fiction, dark romance, romance, adventure, tragedy, poetry, fiction, horror, Gothic literature, action, and mystery, both films and books (mostly books)

Secretly loves the story of Hades and Persephone.

Will make Blancmange every Christmas at Hogwarts (hphm made this canon)

He has tried to deny rumors about him being in love with Lily and him being a vampire or a bat, but it came to a point where he was done and didn't care

His scent would be herbs, flowers, old books, and rain

[realtyhubph-blog]

Farm Lot SALE in Magalang, Pampanga

📍Talimundok Magalang, Pampanga PROPERTY FEATURES TYPE: Agricultural Lot📐 Lot: 10,000 square meters🧭 Facing Northwest✅ Irregular Shape✅ Flat Terrain✅ Wide Frontage of approximately 100 meters✅ Ideal for Farm Resort, Agri Eco Resort, Camping Site NEARBY POINTS OF INTEREST Angeles City Flying Club • Talimundok Chapel • Farms • McDonald’s Magalang • Plaza Magalang • Sta Ines NLEX Exit •  PAYMENT…

[atarathegreat]

His Property. Sanzu Haruchiyo

Sanzu, who had been having a decent day with Bonten and pushing Takeomi to his absolute limits, finally was able to arrive home. The simple smell of cinnamon and cleaned laundry enveloped him and made it seem as if an absolutely bloodthirsty man never set foot inside the house. Your house.

And it was your house, according to the state and bank and on paper. There was no paper trail tying Sanzu to the heap of wood you made into a lavish den for the dog to rest his claws. It was better that way. Much as it was better that you only lived with him, that there was no boyfriend/girlfriend title tying him to you. You often feared he was out with whatever woman (or man, Sanzu doesn't complain as long as it's a hole) he wanted to be with. Yet in his eyes, there was only you. And he wouldn't let his work interfere with you having a normal life.

Aside from the nights he came home bloodstained and you had to burn his clothes, but that's beside the point.

Twelve steps from the door, a strange scent hit Sanzu. This wasn't something he hadn't smelled before, but usually, you let him watch as you applied makeup. And only for special occasions. Did he forget something? The living room seemed too dark as he muttered the important dates he knew under his breath. Anniversary was in a month, birthdays were already celebrated, and no one had died.

The soft pitter patter of your feet stopped in the doorway as you stared at Sanzu. "You're home already..." You angled your toes together, face turned slightly to the side as if you were looking around him. Sure, he was a little early, but-

In a flash, the light was on and Sanzu was opening every closed door, looking behind every curtain. Makeup? Surprised he was home? There was only one explanation. He didn't like the implications. "Where is he, you brat?" Sanzu stomped across the living room, jaw clenched tightly as he grabbed your arms, "Tell me now before I throw you from this house!"

"Where is who?" Your wide eyes wouldn't get you out of it this time. There was a man in his house. What other reason did you have to wear makeup at this hour? He was ready to scream, but when Sanzu grabbed your face and the makeup smeared to reveal purple skin beneath, he became a deadly calm. "Who did this to you, pet?" Firm fingers made you wince as he wiped at the area, "Who touched what is mine?"

There was only one way for you to answer him: truthfully. Sanzu knew you like the back of his hand, he constantly had you under surveillance (which should've been obvious that you couldn't cheat, but Sanzu is far from a reasonable man), and he'd be damned if he let you lie to him. Not that you never tried, but this wasn't something he tolerated.

"I'm okay, Zuzu, really-"

He squished your cheeks, making your lips pucker, "If another word leaves these pretty lips and it isn't answering my question, you will receive just punishment. Understood?"

"The neighbor... his mail was accidently put in our mailbox, and he flipped..."

Sanzu sighed. Another stupid neighbor that he has to make move. How tedious and annoying.

"Wash your face, go to bed." Sanzu kissed your nose, "I'll be home soon."

[lipglossanon]

Playing Dangerous

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆

RE2make Cop!Leon S. Kennedy x criminal fem!reader

For the anon who requested a criminal reader with police officer Leon (dangerous game by Lana del Rey); I hope you enjoy anon! I can’t quite remember all of the ask but I know the song was the inspiration for it! 🤭 it doesn’t follow the song but I hope you still like it! 💜

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, dirty talk, coercion, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink

not proofread

Title from Playing Dangerous by Lana Del Rey

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆

Leon heard the call come in over the radio and although it’s the end of his shift, picks up the CB and reports that he’ll take this one and then be out for the night. 

He’s driving down the usual stretch of highway before he’s pulling into the derelict part of town, filled with abandoned buildings and run down cars. 

It’s usually the hang out spots for crackheads and dope dealers but tonight they seem to be pretty scarce. Pulling up into one of the condemned warehouses, he parks and gets out. Creeping along the wall until he sees the door, he sneaks his way inside, hand resting on his holstered gun. 

He sees a shadow dart to the side and the sound of scuffling feet. Following the noise, he turns the corner, staying hidden from view, and sees a body bent over the engine of a car. Running his gaze down your waist over your ass and legs, he actually takes in the license plate of the vehicle you’re working on. 

Smirking, he makes his way back outside and calls it in, confirming his suspicions that it’s stolen. He ducks back inside and slowly makes his way back to you. Watching as you toss down a wrench in frustration, you pull away from the engine and kick the front tire. 

“Fucking fire trap piece a’shit,” you mutter to yourself wiping your hands off on a towel. 

“Well now that’s not very ladylike, honey,” Leon drawls as he makes his way over to you. 

You start and drop the towel, whirling to face him with a new wrench in your hand. 

“Fuck you, Officer Kennedy,” you sneer at him and it makes him grin. 

“You know that’s what I’m here for, baby,” he laughs at your heated glare, “come now, don’t be like that.”

He steps up to push you back against the grill of the car, “It’s always the same song and dance. You and I both know this is stolen property, so how about we take it outside?”

He slips the wrench from you hand and tosses it over to the toolbox on the ground. Grabbing your hand, he marches you out the side door into the shadowed alley. 

The next thing you know you’re on your knees in this dirty alley, eagerly—greedily— sucking Officer Kennedy’s thick cock into your willing mouth.

You moan, eyes fluttering at the taste—clean skin and just that underlying hint that’s only him. 

“Always ready to drop to your knees for me, honey,” he laughs meanly, pulling his cock out to slap it across your mouth, “come on, choke on it you little slut.”

Your tongue lolls out and he spits in your mouth making you whine, cunt pulsing and filling your panties with slick. He feeds his cock back into your mouth with a low groan. Hips thrusting forward, he sinks another inch into your hot wet throat.

“God, got the wettest fucking mouth,” he grunts, hands going down to hold your head still, “let me fuck your throat, like a good girl.”

You can only moan in reply, tears beading your waterline as his drippy tip kisses the back of your throat. You try your best to not gag, but he pushes too far making your throat clench around him. With a cough, his cock slips from your mouth. Thick strings of spit cling from your swollen lips to his cock, like spiderwebs. 

“Get on your feet,” his hands slide down to your arms, yanking you up and shoving you face first into the brick wall. 

He pulls your shorts and panties down to pool around your ankles having you step out of them. Then, he kicks your feet apart and cups your pussy with his broad palm. 

“Wet little pussy,” he mocks behind you, spanking your soaked mound, “spread yourself.”

With a whine, you move your hands to reach around and grab your pussy lips, spreading your cunt open for Leon’s hungry eyes. 

You feel as Leon spits a hot glob of saliva onto your pussy the slaps his cock against your dripping hole. 

 “Ready?”

When you only nod, he smacks your ass hard. 

“I need you to say it, honey.”

“Yes, Officer Kennedy, I’m ready,” you bite out, ending on a squeal as he bullies his cock into your soaked hole. 

You let go to move your hands to the wall in front of you, bracing yourself better. 

“Aren’t you just a bad girl?” his hot breath tickles the shell of your ear while he ruts his cock slowly in and out of your fluttering walls. 

“Mmm so bad, Officer,” you moan, hands scraping against the rough brick of the alley wall.

You push your ass out further, arching your back so he can fuck deeper into your aching pussy. 

“Is this teaching you a lesson?” he slaps your ass, “only bad girls get their cunts used like some back alley whore.”

You whine going hot all over and rock yourself back on Leon. 

“Promise I won’t do it again, Officer Kennedy,” your voice shakes, clit pulsing in time with your heartbeat, “I’ll be such a good girl.”

“Yeah I bet,” he mocks, “then how come I’m out here once a week, pounding this tight pussy? She just need me that bad, honey?”

You moan as he fucks you in quick shallow thrusts, teasing your sensitive bud with his fingers. 

“Officer, please,” you whimper, “I need it, need you to show me how to be a good girl.”

“I’ll show you,” he grits out, hand wrapping around your neck and squeezing, “slutty hole just needs some discipline.”

“Uh huh,” you gasp, drawing in air as he threatens to choke you, “please.”

“Fucking take it then, be a good girl for me and let me fuck this tight, wet cunt.” 

You cry out when he pushes his cock in deeper than before, dragging against your g-spot until you’re drooling from the constant barrage of pleasure. His fingers pick up and start pressing quick little circles onto your clit making you whimper and push back into his rough thrusts. 

“There we go, squeeze down on me, honey,” he laughs a mean harsh sound pressed into your ear, “gotta work for this creampie, sweet thing.”

You rock your hips back with a low moan. Leon dips his fingers down to gather up the slick dripping from your hole to rub against your swollen clit. 

“So fucking slippery,” he grunts, “that feel good? Your pussy sure seems to like it.”

He lets go of your neck so he can grip your hips, pistoning his cock harder and harder into your squelching pussy. 

“Officer, ‘m gonna cum, fuck,” you whine, arching your back deeper to push your ass against him, “please, Kennedy, please, wanna cum. Can I, please?”

Leon laughs down at you, slapping your ass hard, “Yeah, want you cumming all over my cock so I can fill this slutty hole full,” he pinches your clit meanly, “hell, might even knock ya up, honey,”

“Oh fuck,” you gasp, eyes rolling back in your head as your cunt clenches down on his cock, orgasm washing over your senses making you tense. 

“Shit, yeah that’s it, god gonna breed this slutty fucking cunt,” he growls, “gonna fucking knock you up, so everyone knows what a fucking whore ya’are.”

His teeth sink into your shoulder, biting you through your thin t-shirt, making you whine high in your throat as your pussy milks his cock. You feel as rope after rope of hot, sticky cum coats your fluttering walls, filling you so full that it starts dripping out around Leon’s throbbing cock. 

“Fuck, honey,” he slurs, pulling away from you, “drained me fucking dry.”

You hiss when he tugs his softening cock away from your pussy, a creamy mix of slick and cum trailing down your thighs. 

Leon slaps your ass one final time before tucking himself away. You follow suit and try to make yourself look as presentable as possible. More cum oozes into the gusset of your panties making you fidget as Leon straightens out his shirt and badge. 

“Same time next week, hmm?” he grins at you, teeth sharp and eyes sharper. 

“Like I have a say,” you mutter with an eye roll. 

“That’s the spirit.”

He presses you up against the wall, one hand cupping your throat while his other delves under your shorts and panties to fuck two fingers up into your messy cunt. 

Pulling them out, he presses them to your lips, “Open up for me, sweet thing.”

Reluctantly you open your mouth and suck Leon’s fingers, moaning when you taste the mix of you two together. 

“Thatta girl,” he coos, “I know you like our little setup as much as I do.”

Eyes fluttering as Leon fucks your mouth with his fingers, you can only hum around the digits. 

His walkie crackles with static and he’s pulling away from you. 

“Next time wear that dress I like,” he winks and walks out of the alley, back to where he parked. 

You lean against the wall and try to catch your breath. Pushing off the brick, you watch as Leon’s cruiser drives past and he gives you a little smart ass wave. Rolling your eyes, you flip him off only to see a flash of teeth as he laughs and then he’s gone. Driving off back to the precinct or god knows where. 

With a low groan, you decide to call it quits for tonight. After all, that stolen car will probably be gone tomorrow morning anyways. You walk to the opposite side of the alley to climb into your car and go home. Next week will bring what it may. 

[dearestspirit]

a note heard in heaven - 00 (prologue)

mizu x fem!reader | au based on the film the handmaiden | word count: 1,294 | warnings: mdni. this series will contain sexual and dark themes, including: abuse, sex, sexual assault/harrasment, period typical misogyny, murder, allusions to suicide, and period typical stigmas against mental health. series masterlist | next part

There’s something to be said about opposites attracting; it seems Mizu’s life has led her to more run-ins with cushy, uptight rich people than she’d like to count. So when a con-man named Taigen finds his way to the lodging she shares with her ‘friends’- as in, a bunch of criminals dealing in forgery- asking her to play the part of handmaiden to another snob? Convince you to marry him, and then ship you off to where you’re never heard from again? The inheritance going to your absolutely grieving husband, of course, then to be split with her receiving half. She’s quick to scoff in his face. Until Taigen, deceivingly taking on the title of The Count to charm you, shows her just how much money you’ve been left to inherit. Even half of that sum is enough to make anyone do anything. Still, the back of her prideful mind nagged her with how demeaning the task was. The other part: the down in the dirt, tired of cleaning messes she didn’t make, re-sewing clothes from her childhood to keep using part, knew this was her one opportunity. Someone born like her rarely had a shot at anything worthwhile.

It was no question that in a few days time, she’d find herself alone in a carriage making its way to your estate. She knows the game she has to play, and she swears she’s winning before she even sees you.

Women like you are all too easily captivated by men like Taigen, she posits. You’ve already been married off to a wealthy man– one much too old for you, having lived on his property since a young age. From what she’s heard, you’ve barely ever set a foot outside those walls. That loneliness? A weak point, perfect to deliver a final blow to. Taigen was closer to your age, attractive, and could at least pretend to have some sort of importance. Mizu would act as something of a cupid. Set you on the right path, to a man with a good heart… she doubted it’d take even a week to get you to crumble in his arms, if your current husband’s behavior was anything to go by.

It takes a long journey to make it to your residence. Buried away in pitch black depths of forested land, the sense of isolation is cold. That chill sits in Mizu’s chest, keeping her on guard. A few soldiers halt her and her guide. Eyes peer in, leering and skeptical. With a few words from the coachman, they’re easily cleared and sent inside. She finds some unnecessary task to busy herself with, easing her nerves; counting the bumps in the dirt path until the horses reach the front door.

Thirty-seven. There’s thirty-seven uneven jostles of the cart before Mizu steps out, greeted by an older woman holding a lantern. Taigen had briefly informed her of the elder. She, Madame Kaji, was the most established housekeeper on the property. She took in all of the maid girls, training them and making them properly useful. A warning echoed in his statement of her: “She’s strict. Do not fuck up around her, or you’ll be scraps for wild animals to feast on and our whole operation goes up in flames.”

As if she would really believe that.

She wouldn’t.

Until the woman walked on ahead, maneuvering through the home with ease. As if she’d escorted thousands of to-be handmaidens through here. Mizu grunted, taking a few large jogs in order to catch up with the madam. This place was already testing her patience, her disinterest palpable.

“I’m surprised that your recommendation from The Count was taken so seriously, considering your apparent… circumstances of birth. Though he assured me your experience far outweighs any problems that may arise from such a condition,” Madame Kaji looked at Mizu only from the corner of her eye, unwilling to look directly. “The Lord’s main house is made up of two wings which you will familiarize yourself with. Then, the library. There’s also the servant’s quarters, but you won’t be using those as the Lady’s handmaiden.”

Mizu follows, lugging her belongings behind her wearily. Travel had been long, her body ached from sitting in that cramped carriage cabin, and now she had to listen to this borderline hag rattle off rules to her. All she has to do is be polite and meet your way too high standards, right? Who cares who the tea leaves go to, what soap must be left over? It was all meaningless etiquette so that when the poor somehow didn’t play by these rich rules, you could sneer and laugh in their faces. Mizu wanted nothing more than to climb into her new bed and sleep. Sleep until maybe she didn’t regret this decision any more.

Though, her regrets start to dwindle as she’s led through the grand hallways. Entire staircases bigger than any room she’s ever been in, exquisite paintings lining every empty inch of wall space they could, and various ancient relics on display made her shudder. The opulence of it all was astounding. Her whole bloodline– past, present, and future– would never see the amount of riches that you and your husband bask in. Honestly, if she weren’t trying to stay in the good graces of Madame Kaji, she’d let out a snort at how overdone the decor is.

She’s taken through a few more sliding doors, more Japanese style than Western, until Kaji stops in her tracks. Nodding her head to the left, she points Mizu in the direction of your door.

“This is where the Lady sleeps, and this,” she directs Mizu’s attention to the small chamber across from your doors. “is where you’ll be sleeping. The Lady often has nightmares, which you will attend to her during. It’s best to keep you close.”

Mizu nods, opening the door of the compartment. She can feel her eye twitch. It’s barely more than a glorified cabinet. The space contains only a wooden slab with a bedroll and pillow on it. There’s space under for her to put her shoes and luggage, but little else. Before she knows it, Madame Kaji has left her behind, apparently satisfied with that being the end of her tour. Mizu’s head lands against the door of her ‘room’ with a thump. She makes quick work of her shoes, shuffling them under the bed, along with the rest of her things.

It’s strange, though. She finds herself unable to lay, rather, turning herself around to face your quarters. Her hands tremble, shakily trying to pry your door open just a tad. She closes one eye, doing her best to peer in.

Moonlight streams in through your large windows, illuminating you in a heavenly glow. She can’t quite see your face from where she stands, but she can make out your figure underneath white sheets. She takes another moment to watch. Her breath practically wracks through her body, as if it’s dawning on her, her sudden proximity to you. Never had she been in the presence of someone so… unattainable, or otherworldly, almost. Somewhere in the house, a thud resounds loudly. Mizu nearly jumps out of her skin, shutting your door in an instant. Chest heaving and mouth dry, she settles herself into her compartment. Dragging her hand down her face, she tries to get her heart to relax. Taking one last glance towards you, your room, she finally flops back against the hard bedroll, agonizing over the uncomfortable nature of it. Exhaustion seeps into her muscles, eyes easily drooping shut. All she can do is hope the rest she gets tonight prepares her for the day ahead.

It won’t.

Because it isn’t long until a bloodcurdling scream rips through the house.

a/n: i usually put my authors note up top, but this one is probably gonna be egregiously long. this is just a prologue, but i hope it’s an exciting enough start to something i’m so thrilled to be writing. it overjoys me that people showed so much interest in the idea. the plot of the handmaiden is one that means a lot to me. i can’t wait to explore mizu’s character through the lens of that plot. with the content this story is going to be diving into, i really want to perfect it and take my time on it, so please bear with me if it takes a while to get through and complete. right now, it’s looking like the series might be 6-9 parts, not including a prologue or epilogue. i can’t guarantee anything, but once part one is out i’d like to upload at least one part a week, possibly two. also, the count is taigen because due to such a huge involvement the count has in the story of the handmaiden, it’ll be easier reading to make it a known character than continuously referring to him as a vague male character. i do actually like taigen as a character, promise. also, i know the handmaiden takes place in japan occupied korea, but this will simply take place in japan. i’m not the most historically knowledgeable, so the setting will probably lean more towards blue eye samurai in terms of time period, dress, etc. it may end up being some weird mish-mash situation, but i’ll do my best to have it at least flow well. anyway, thank you for reading and please feel free to share your thoughts!!

[aziraphales-library]

Hello and thank you for being a great source of fics! I read a super sweet outsider AU that included Crowley singing Abba songs and I need more! Are there any Abba themed fics you would recommend to us?

Hi! Here are some fics featuring ABBA songs/references, and a couple of Mamma Mia! fics...

The Stars Were Bright, My Dear Boy by not_joeys_secret_account (T)

It’s 1977 and Aziraphale and Crowley go to see Star Wars in the theatre, and, surprisingly, Aziraphale has never heard of ABBA

And Everything Is You by acetonitril (T)

Once a week, Crowley joins the local pub's karaoke night to sing an ABBA song. Aziraphale doesn't know about this. This is the story of Aziraphale finding out. Also, there's a bunch of students who might or might not be involved.

How You Thrill Me by ingafterdark (E)

There were three things Crowley would remember about this movie. The deception-driven chaos, the blastedly delightful musical numbers, and the idle weight of Aziraphale’s hand on Crowley’s thigh, which grew ever-more insistent from about the half-hour mark. Or: The night in the South Downs when a certain Angel debauched a certain Demon as Mamma Mia! played in the background.

I Believe In Angels by Raphaela Crowley (T)

Crowley and Aziraphale travel to a Greek island under false pretenses. Aziraphale's a bit worried about the morality of the situation, while Crowley just wants that blasted ABBA song to not be stuck in his head any more. Sophie S. wonders if the father she's never known is Sam Carmichael or just some guy in sunglasses named Anthony Cowwley.

One Look And You're Hypnotized by quiltedspacemittens (T)

“What are you doing in Greece?” Aziraphale asks, with distanced politeness, as the silence between them stretches a moment too long. Crowley ambles, one step behind him. “’M here on business. Supposed to tempt some poor woman to engineer a decades-long inheritance and property tax evasion scheme. Something about her ex-boyfriends.” “I see. And she’s on Kalokairi?” Kalokairi, Greece, 1977. One moustachioed demon on business, one clean-shaven principality on holiday, and one island in need of a little divine intervention. A Mamma Mia!-themed Tony fic written for Stayin' Julive aka Tony Month. Hypothetically updates every Wednesday in July. Title from "Angeleyes" by ABBA.

dancing queen (guaranteed to blow your mind) by Quilly (T)

Warlock has a secret, and it's that he invited three former staff members from his estranged parents' household to his wedding in the hopes that one of them is the one Nanny is still in love with. Crowley is just wondering what entity he pissed off to make three of his old flames show up the day before his adopted kid's wedding.

Do You Like ABBA? by Matcha_Tea_and_Other_Delights (T)

“I heard there’s going to be a meteor shower tonight.” The boy tells Aunt Lilith. “Oh?” She says in response, still a little unfamiliar with some of the earthly phrases and customs. “Yeah, stars falling from the sky and you get to make a wish, it’s great. Might stay up in my room watching them for a while.” Aunt Lilith looks up at the sky too, this time with an odd sense of woe coloring her features. “Falling stars, huh?” Or: Seven years after the events of Not-mageddon, things start to gear up for the Second Coming: Supreme Archangel Raphael would sound the alarms, a flight is boarded, as a swarm of locusts envelope the Earth. Everything is destroyed, with nothing left standing. The End. …yeah that’s not gonna happen. For starters, Satan is missing. Or or: Like the ones before them, it’s up to an angel and a demon to try and stop the world from ending. Third time’s the charm isn’t it? (Basically, what if Good Omens 3 went like this?)

- Mod D

[grim-dark-confusion]

WIBTA If I took down my Word Bearer’s Shrine?

@egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams

warnings: implied stalking behavior

Long time lurker, first time poster. This is a throwaway account, in case someone tries to doxx me or whatever. I know that the title is a little iffy, but please hear me out! I need help and advice, not judgment and mean comments.

So! Some details about what’s going on: Be me, normal baseline human, early thirties.

Be not me: 9ft tall, huge buff chaos Word Bearer who crash landed in my garden three months ago.

Be also not me: the neighbor’s Ultramarine. Also Big, but less fucked up looking. 

Three months ago I became the unwilling… Host? Friend? Minder? Of a Chaos Word Bearer. He crash landed in my back garden about three months ago. He was in pretty bad shape when I came home from work at dusk. I thought he was dead, honestly.

Then I did something stupid, and approached an injured CSM I didn’t know. Please don’t yell at me for being stupid, I’ve heard it all before. But I genuinely thought he was dead! And I poked his hoof-foot-boot thing with a stick.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when his foot twitched and did scream a little. Augustus heard me (neighbor’s Ultramarine) and came running.

I don’t know if the Chaos Word Bearer had just been sleeping since he crashed in my garden, or if the presence of a loyalist just woke him up on instinct, but as soon as Augustus crossed the property boundaries, Metrik (CWB) was up on his feet and growling. He was shaking and he was favoring one of his legs pretty badly.

Then I did something else stupid…

I stepped between Auggie and Metrik, telling Augustus to back off a little. That the CWB hadn’t done anything to hurt me, and that I’d just been surprised that he was… You know… Not dead. Augustus grumbled a little but backed off and went back to his home to sulk.

After that I called the local apothecary asking for them to come check him over. While I was waiting for them to get to my home, I grabbed my first aid kit and patched him up. Of course I used gloves, as I had no idea where he’d been, nor what he’d been doing. He didn’t speak any English of course, but my phone was able to use a translator app and we were able to get by with it’s version of Astartes-speak.

I.. Uhm. May have made another mistake and fed him. BUt he said he was hungry and he’d taken off his helmet and was giving me big sad golden brown eyes and what else was I supposed to do? I fed him a pack of hot dogs and brought him a pitcher of water.

THe app said that he was grateful for my hospitality. THe apothecary showed up and they bundled him off. I had thought that would be the end of it…

Then three weeks later, CWB - whose name he told me then was Metrik - asked if he could repay my kindness and helping with the damage he did to my garden. I agreed, not thinking much of it at the time.

Whiiich is how I ended up with a very large and pointy roommate. Which is whatever, as Metrik is pretty clean and nice! Even if he does have growl-contests with Augustus over the fence.

Yesterday I was doing a deep-clean of the house and found that someone - probably Metrik - built a shrine to me. In the basement of my own house. It looks like it’s been there for a while. There are pictures of me sleeping and at work from angles that make me very uncomfortable.

I don’t. I don’t know what to do. I really want to take it down because it feels creepy but I’m worried that it will set Metrik off. I’ve heard that CWB don’t take kindly to their altars being disturbed but. Uhhhh. 

Yeah. Help! ;A;

[pikachic]

WHILE I REMEMBER. WHAT OF GERRY KEAY. MY SON MY BESTIE MY SPECIALEST LITTLE BASTARD LIGHT OF MY ACTUAL LIFE GERARD KEAY. What becomes of him in this AU? I know that he's qualified to make these lenses but not much else. Is he alive? Is he a ghost? Are he and Michael smooching? Also does this AU include Gertrude? Maybe she was doing some questionable experiments with metafestations which she roped him and Michael into and Jon (and/or Martin and Ash/the player) stumble upon them during their search for Jon.

Actually I think either Gerry and/or Oliver should have a Greavard. It's Puppy and Spooky and also Greavard looks like Gerard if you squint very hard. Also, therapy dog which jesus christ he absolutely needs.

Gerry is very much alive! On top of being a Metalens Craftsman, he’s also an Elite Four member who specializes in Ghost Types!

(At least, he was - then Jon went missing and Elias insisted on replacing the entire Elite Four because “An Elite Four that allows their Champion to disappear in a time of crisis is one that I, much less the people of Ervenis, can depend on or trust.”)

Gerry is also a well known artist who works in the Ervenis capital so he can keep an eye on Elias and takes regular glasswork commissions! He has an Alolan Marowak, who was a gift from Eric, who helps him out with it :D

(Also the doggo is canon now)

(Also also I’m not super into Doorkeay but I’m not NOT into it so Gerry and Michael could definitely be smoochin!)

A bit more Metalens lore! Ervenis is so rich in the kind of minerals and sand needed to make Metaglass, which is what Metalenses are made of, that it’s often used in regular glasswork. The more volatile properties of Metaglass can be neutralized by mixing it with regular glass, and glassware made with this new diluted kind of glass is highly desired for its unique opalescent coloring.

However, even though he’s so experienced with it, Gerry absolutely refuses to use any Metaglass in his glasswork pieces, even though his clients have insisted countless times that it’s perfectly safe.

As for Gertrude…

She was the Champion before Jon, capable of manifesting a whopping five types of Metafestation. She was known to have an odd fascination with Metafestation and its origins, which is how she met Gerry. She funded her own research team dedicated to Metafestation research, which is how she met Martin, and sometimes even offered herself and her team as test subjects.

She knew of Jon long before he challenged her for her title - rumors of a young Trainer somehow capable of channeling every known kind of Metafestation was something that drew her attention almost immediately.

Shortly after Jon’s victory against her, Gertrude convinced Jon to allow her to study him and his ability, which is how he met Martin.

About two weeks before the attacks that would lead to Jon going missing, Gertrude had accompanied her old friend Adelard on a trip to some ancient ruins recently unearthed by an earthquake.

A day after the attacks, when people were cleaning up the damage from the attack on the Magnus Institute, Gertrude’s body was found buried in the rubble.