#i feel like i no longer know how to be vulnerable anymore

[deathbxnny]

Hello! Could I request Acheron, Feixiao and Jingliu x Angel! Reader, please? (In context the reeader is an extremely powerful entity that has lived for centuries, basically their job is to slay evil beings and demons. They don't have a true form as they can shapeshift. However they have 12 angelic pure white wings with a bright halo. They can use any weapons however they usually carried a hot flaming sword that can pretty much burn anything even Aeons. However they have a very unique and gentle aura as they can calm down their bloodlust or give them peace with just their presence alone. Despite all of that they are extremely kind and empathetic. However because of their extreme power and presence they can't always intervine and humans affairs as they are also bounded by rules. However they aren't afraid of bending them if it means they can save lives or make their beloved life a little better)

HSR women with an angel!Reader. | Acheron, Feixiao, Jingliu

I found this actually pretty fun to write about Anon, so I hope you'll enjoy this too!<3

Content: Established romantic relationships, hsr canon violence, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》ACHERON

You being an angel often fades into the back of her mind, as your presence envelopes her scrambled memories into a warm and calming hug. She feels at ease around you, finally finding time to rest in between her hard and at times difficult workload as a galaxy ranger.

She respects you as an equal and doesn't bring up your inhuman nature ever. You are one in the same. But that doesn't mean she won't admire your strength in her own special way. With focused eyes, she'll watch your sword set ablaze in battle, wings spread wide as you take flight and soar through the skies like a free bird.

Acheron often ponders the meaning of your relationship, as she can't fully understand what it is about her that you like so much to stay for. She isn't anything remarkable in her eyes, just a wandering soul on an endless mission, but perhaps that's just another similarity that keeps you together.

》FEIXIAO

How exactly she got you to be her partner may remain a secret to everyone, as she herself often is at a loss for words. Especially when you shower her with her so much kindness and softness, something she rarely gets to have due to her rather harsh line of work. You are the only one who gets to see her so vulnerable.

Your prowess in battle leaves her beaming with pride every time. And your true form makes her sigh in wonder. She definitely asks to train with you for hours on end, even if you obviously go easy on her. She doesn't mind, as long as she can admire your form for longer this way.

She admires your respect for the rules of mortals, and her heart warms when you bend them for her or her people. Feixiao never asks you to do so directly, but it makes her feel good to know that she is worth the love and attention of an angel in this way.

》JINGLIU

Despite never saying it out loud, she's eternally thankful for your presence in her life. You keep her bloodlust at bay and give her the peace she so deeply yearns for. You ask for nothing but her love in return, and who is she to deny a divine entity? She feels undeserving of you, yet never says a word against it. A small selfishness on her part, perhaps.

Your holy form is burned into the forefront of her mind, a strong figure that she could never defeat and never wants to even in the depths of her crazed, sick mind. The light shining off your halo filters into her eyes through the blindfold and makes her sigh in relief every time you are near her. The pain is more bearable this way.

And yet, despite this deep love you share, she knows that it will end sooner than you want to. Even you can not save her, or perhaps she doesn't want to be saved anymore. It is an unspoken fate between you, too, and she'll let you believe that bending the rules of mortality will keep her at your side for longer if it is that that makes you happy.

[archiveofyearning]

I think…it is time for me to give up on ever finding love

[jackhammerhim]

Sad to say that I WAS a crazy ex girlfriend. But being crazy isn't what made me a crazy ex girlfriend. Being a GIRLFRIEND made me a crazy ex girlfriend.

[thinkinonsense]

ok so i had a thought😏😏 dbf!logan takes ur virginity and from then on u guys hook up whenever u get a chance (all the time). one night he gets done dicking u DOWN and u say u love him and he’s all like “we can’t do this anymore kid” very ANGSTYYY

i love you, i'm sorry- dbf!logan howlett x fem!reader

part two *mdni

"i love you, logan."

four little words that would send your world crumbling before your feet. the older man lifts himself from in between your chest, both of you panting post orgasm. nights like this had become a bad habit for the both of you.

from the moment logan first slipped off your panties in this exact spot a year ago, you had been wanting to tell him how you really felt. you wanted to tell him how you craved his touch when he wasn't around, how you adored the way he took care of you and most importantly, how this didn't feel 'casual' to you anymore.

seconds turned into minutes of silence, desperately waiting for logan to say something; anything.

"lo, are you going to say some-"

"we can't see each other anymore, kid." he says, avoiding eye contact with you as he pulls out.

"what?"

this wasn't real. that's the only sentence that your brain could form as you watch him put his boxers back on. you laid there on his bed, naked, vulnerable, with his cum dripping out of you and he can't even look you in your fucking eyes.

"ya' heard me." logan says, putting a cigar in his mouth and tossing your dress on the bed next to you.

"what happened?" your voice was trembling on the verge of rage and heartbreak.

"i told you a year ago not to bring that 'love shit' in here."

a year ago when he took your virginity. he promised to be gentle and to care for you. guess that didn't extend past sex for him.

you scoff, pulling your sundress over your head. "you didn't say that when you said you love how tight i fit around you or when you said you love how well i know you. was any of that even true?"

logan ignored you as he lit his cigar and waited for you to leave. you stand up and walk over to him, touching his chin and turning to so he's facing you.

"look me in the eyes when you kick me out of your bed." you spit angrily at the man you adored endlessly.

all logan could see was your eyes full of tears and your red puffy lips, trying to keep yourself together. deep down, he knew he deserved all the shit in the world thrown at him for him for breaking your heart. you would never understand why he had to be so cruel but his intentions were never to hurt you like this. it killed him.

"find someone your own age to love, kid." logan says, twisting the knife.

"don't call me kid, logan!" you yell at him. "i'm not a fucking child!"

"then stop acting like one!" his voice boomed back at you, spurring on more tears.

who had he turned into? you couldn't recognize the man in front of you. this wasn't your logan.

"so, you're just going to let me leave like this?" you cry, glaring at him. "give up everything we have all because you're afraid of me loving you?"

you didn't expect an answer, he already shoved your hand away from his face, no longer wanting the image of your broken heart haunting him.

logan wanted to tell you everything, explain why he can't accept your love because it will put you at a greater risks, but logically, logan knows he has to let you go.

"in ten years, when your ass is still sitting drunk on one of my fathers bar stools and he shows you photos of me and a man who can appreciate me for more than sex, a man who can admit he loves me back, you'll remember this moment because this will be the last time you ever fucking see me." you tell him rather calmly as you collect your shoes and purse.

logan watches you do as he asks and leave. if he was a better man, he would have done it differently; but then again, if he was a better man, he never would've fooled around with a twenty-something year old.

the front door slams with a broken sob escaping your lips. from the bedroom, logan could hear your car engine starting and that's when he could allow himself to grieve the life he would've had.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Logan begging for it.... so sweetly we cant refuse..... when he knows reader needs his sleep..... taking it in his even when it stays soft...... cockwarming reader while we sleeps.....

Yes im writing whis as I fall asleep

Logan Howlett x male reader

headcanons

I was gonna write a longer thing, but a migraine decided to kick my ass all of a sudden, so here I am simply rambling about this.

Imagine having a normal but exhausting day job. You’re no hero, no vigilante, no nothing, you’re just a guy. And you somehow ended up charming the pants off of The Wolverine of all people. How? You have no idea

Dating Logan is a real treat, even with his roughness and sometimes standoffish personality. When you guys really get close, he starts to get more vulnerable.

Along with vulnerable emotionally, he also starts to get a much stronger libido, seeing as he has a partner now. Him having a healing factor doesn’t help you in this case, since it means he has very little recovery time.

Seeing Logan, one would think hed be the dominant one, something you assumed in the beginning too. That was until you guys got intimate the first time and he shoved you onto your back to ride you instead.

There were no complaints from you obviously, because who’d mind having someone like that riding you? Logan in his broad, hairy and so very heavy way, lifting himself up and down on you like it was barely a workout.

You have to remind him to be careful though, multiple times, seeing as his bones make him extra heavy, and your poor hips are that of the average person.

Having a partner with a libido like that though, also means Logan is always raring to go, almost waiting for you by the door when you get home from your shift, like an old gruff dog waiting for affection.

The first week or two of you coming home dead on your feet and passing out on the couch the moment you sat down passed… as well as they could for Logan. He wouldn’t force you to do anything you hadn’t agreed with, but God, is he starting to get antsy.

After way too long, in Logans opinion at least, he finally can’t take it anymore. Being the Loverboy he secretly is, he at least brings you to your shared bed before clambering on top of you again.

You’re just too exhausted to do much other than pet at his thighs, eyes already drooping, but his almost timid but so desperate begging keeps you awake longer than other days. When you sleepily agree, Logan kisses you so hungrily you almost lose your breath.

You stay somewhat awake in the beginning as he works your clothes off, being kind enough not to rip it even if logan really really wanted too. He knows its your work clothes, and you’ve scolded him enough times about ripping up your clothes at this point.

It was hard to even really stay awake as Logan worked you hard, just enough for him to slide down on you, his groans sounding like he was a starving man having his first bite of food in weeks. Had you not been struggling to keep your eyes open, you might have teased him.

When Logan leans forward and just rests his weight on you, that was the last straw. Who could stay awake with such a warm heavy weight pressing down on them, like your own personal weighted wolverine blanket.

Logan didn’t even really feel the need to ride you or get himself off, he just wanted to be close to you like this, to feel you inside him and press up against you. So having slowly doze off under him wasn’t a bother, especially as you mumble for him to just keep going.

Most of the night is majorly used by Logan to just tuck his face into your neck and huff your scent, or rub his own against you. You will wake up with beard burns, sorry but those at the rules. Theres probably some chew marks and hickeys mixed in there too, Logans possessive.

You do wake up with very sore hips the next morning. In the comics he’s 300 lbs, but that’s with his comic height, so if were going off of movie Logan he weighs even more. And no matter how much you work out, that’s gotta make you sore.

You don’t really mind though, especially as Logan makes sure you massage your hips in ways you didn’t even know were possible. This also just gives Logan an excuse to lick and gnaw at you more, and to rub more of his scent into you, and yours into him.

Yes, you limp that day, and probably the day after. Luckily you’re able to work from home. This of course also means you have Logan on your dick the entire time, even if its just your mutant lover crawling under the blanket to get his mouth on you.

[maybefae]

Your First Impression of Your Person

Pile 1 - Pile 2 - Pile 3

Remember, this is a general reading and it may not resonate for everyone or completely. Tarot is a tool to help guide but you are responsible for your actions and life, you choose your path.

I was leaning more towards a romantic partner that you are going to end up with that will have a significant place in your life but take it as it resonates for you.

Tips!

|Pile 1

Tarot: Eight of Swords (horizontal), Death, The High Priestess, Seven of Pentacles, Ten of Cups (horizontal), Page of Cups, Four of Pentacles, The Star (reversed), The Fool

Oracle: The Ladybug and Sweet Pea (happiness), The Chipmunk and Laurel (success), The Otter and Cattail (peace)

This person is someone that your soul has been letting you know was coming with certain signs or messages. And this could be someone you wished for, but there is a strong sense that this person was just meant to come into your life. It’s like you wished for this person and didn’t know that they were gonna come in whether you wished for them or not. I believe fate and freewill coincide together and this is one of those grey areas. 

Your person comes in either when a new chapter starts for you or this person comes in and triggers it. Whichever this new chapter is happening, there is a feeling of uncertainty and pessimistic caution - as if trust had been bruised. You almost feel like a wolf backed into a corner and someone is encroaching on your space and you’re trying to decide if they are safe or if you need to bite your way out of a situation. I don’t know if the new chapter has left you feeling a little vulnerable or if you did your little spells (writing down your persons characteristics, a letter from their POV of you, or moodboards), but it took longer than you expected so you developed a resentment of some kind. You’re skeptical of them. It’s like a “oh, now you decide to show up when I don’t want you anymore.” But you know that you still do but your own expectations have hurt you. Your person has done nothing to you.

In fact, you decide to give them a singular cup with caution to see if they can fill it because you still want them. You’re treading lightly and they realize this. They genuinely want to offer you ten full cups and you realize that quickly with how much they bring to the table. They do bring you a lot of happiness and peace, which their entrance into your life probably wasn’t anything grand. Their peaceful stroll into your life probably made you skeptical as well as angry. “But they are what you need(ed).” You probably expected something dramatic because of past people or situations and when you didn’t get that from your person, it felt unsafe. You may have some doubts and think “this wasn’t what I wished for.” But it was, deep down it was. And your wishes were a success.

I think you will be very emotional after dropping the wall finally. I think they will do something that will show you that they love you early on and it will make your walls instantly fall. There’s a feeling of guilt for being so resentful and angry towards your person and you may not know how to forgive yourself. But just know, your person says that you have nothing to be sorry for. There could be a moment when you decide to tell them this and your tears will be dried by them.

|Pile 2

Tarot: The Hierophant, The Hanged Man, Nine of Pentacles, Nine of Swords, The Empress, Ace of Wands, The Lovers, Four of Wands, The Star

Oracle:  The Eel and Iris (safety), The Boar and Pumpkin (confidence), The Snake and Fern (starting over), The Skunk and Magnolia (protection)

Before I pull the cards, I ended up shuffling face up for a moment. Your person may show you all their cards upfront so you know what they want, their boundaries, and their feelings towards you. There isn’t any pussy-footing around feelings and playing games. They are too grown for that and they take love and relationships very seriously. I had to go back and pull an oracle card I say while resetting the deck and it was The Eel and Iris card which represents safety in this deck. There are two messages here. They will leave if they don’t think you are safe. They are slimy in the way of being able to get away if you start to play with their heart, not that they are a player and wiggle in and out of your life. Absolutely not. And they offer you and your heart a lot of safety by presenting all their cards to you right away. They don’t play games. If it’s important, Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls could hold significance.  - Just from getting all these messages without pulling any cards, or just from this one oracle card, I have a very strong feeling about this message. They get to business in a very determined and sure-footed way. They are dependable.

Now that I pulled the cards, my top messages are correct. You will find their confidence very attractive because it doesn’t come off in a cocky way. Their confidence comes off just in a sure and stable way. They made it very clear to you that they find you “absolutely breathtaking” as soon as they got to talk to you (and in the same moment, they ask you on a date and your NUMBER, not your social media.) I think they will also be very attractive and not someone you expect to be attracted to you. They are very successful -  everything else in their life is in line but they don’t have a lover. They are very picky so you should feel lucky they chose you. They are looking for commitment, something serious. For some this could be marriage but if you don’t like that idea, make that clear right away because they will like how you’re sure of your wants. They will respect it, especially if you make it abundantly clear that you want something committed and long term outside of legal bindings. 

There is a lot of sexual tension in this pile. And there is a very wealthy energy coming off the both of you, especially with how formal I felt writing this. It was like I was writing a contract. 

I think that they will also let you know pretty early on that this could be a start over for them and they are giving love one more try before giving up. Maybe they could’ve given up before hand but you two got sexually involved and it led to them giving the both of you a shot. With them laying their cards on the table and you laying down yours, it creates a very stable foundation for the both of you to grow off of. This feels like a very mature energy, maybe 30s? There is a feeling of creating some sort of foundation for yourself, even it you could just be starting your foundation then.

|Pile 3

Tarot: Three of Swords, The Hierophant, Ace of Wands, Judgement, Knight of Wands, Queen of Cups, The Hermit, Nine of Cups, Temperance, Strength

Oracle: The Wolf and Rose Hip (guardianship), The Vulture and Asphodel (upheaval), The Sheep and Blackberry (devotion)

The Three of Swords instantly jumped out when I started shuffling. And before I started, the knight of cups was at the bottom…I believe your person wanted to bring your own heartbreak to light first and foremost. I don’t believe this card is part of your impression of them. This feels like a combination of their opinion of you combined with what you think of them. There’s a deep feeling of heartbreak from you but I don’t think you’ve given up on love, you really just want to finally meet the person you’ll spend your life with. The love of your life. This pile isn’t for someone seeking something temporary.

Pile 3, your person is the love of your life. They truly love you and I think that is why they wanted me to talk about you first. They come in very protectively, a wolf guarding their sheep. It’s not that you’re fragile but they have a good understanding that you are sensitive and a soft soul, which brings out their protective side. I think you welcome it because there is a feeling of instant safety you get from this person, like finally finding shelter to stand under while the rain clouds clear up. They instantly light up the passion you had for love again because they come in with the same passion, which isn’t inherently sexual either. This passion comes from a place of safety and comfort from each other, it’s like finally experiencing a love that isn’t so intense. Puppy love…maybe love that is usually experienced when you’re younger. There is a sense of them bringing back light-hearted fun, that love doesn’t have to be so taxing on your soul (and it shouldn’t be). 

There is a message of, “your patience will be rewarded.” 

They see you as an angel, pile 3. And they are merely your knight and they offer you so much devotion. I know this should be your first impression of them but I think you see this practically right away. “Light dawns on marble head.” They bring you out of the hermit phase and show you that they have all nine cups and you only need to bring your one cup so you can have the Ten of Cups together. They don’t expect anything other than your presence, you just have to show up and give them love. That’s all they expect from you and I think that comes as a surprise to you because people had expected so much of you and stripped you of it all so you were left empty. It probably took you a long time to fill your own cup again. They bring new and wanted change even though it may come with some uncomfortability from your end. 

Dividers: @inklore

[actual-changeling]

we do not talk enough about the moment right before crowley puts his sunglasses back on. the "nothing lasts forever" is devastating and if you're like me your eyes were so full of tears you couldn't see the screen the first time you watched it (just like crowley, look at us all twinning in sadness!).

there is a shift that happens in his eyes and i think it is absolutely fascinating and heartbreaking at the same time.

we begin with crowley averting his gaze from aziraphale's face and staring off into the distance instead, and you can see his spirit break. that crowley just lost the one thing in the world he cannot live without and we can see it written across his face like a neon sign.

then, as you'd expect, he gives into the need to cover up his pain, to try and make himself less vulnerable, and even before he lifts his glasses he looks down so aziraphale can no longer see his eyes.

now, the next part is what would not let me out of its grasp all day. we know it happens because of his demeanour afterwards and up until the kiss, but you can actually watch as crowley makes himself numb to the world.

i am intimately familiar with dissociation as a trauma and stress response, and while you can never fully control it, you do eventually find the switch in your mind that makes you snap back into the haze. crowley has had six thousand years to get really, really good at leaving reality behind when he needs and/or wants to.

that's exactly what he does.

he still looks sad, and yet there's just something distinctly distant in his eyes, the shift from openly heartbroken to "i don't want to feel any of this let me leave".

glasses? on

emotions? off

hotel? trivago

i have stared at those four frames more than any person probably should and i don't know if it's the light, if i am going insane, or if there is a single tear sliding out of his right (our left) eye. i'm probably insane and the light is a bitch so if anyone has some high resolution shots or anything that could answer that question without a doubt PLEASE do add it.

by now you are probably ready to threaten me with a knife in a dark alley but before you do that or drive your car off a cliff, let me tell you the best part:

aziraphale notices.

they might be communicating on two different frequencies but aziraphale knows crowley. he knows and loves him, and, most importantly, over the last few years he has gotten used to seeing crowley without his glasses. aziraphale could probably write a book on the expressions in his eyes alone and watches that shift happen and is devastated.

look.

he tries to make himself hope the same second, tries to convince himself crowley is putting on his glasses so they can leave together, but he knows.

aziraphale sees the light leave crowley's eyes, sees crowley leave, knowing that he is quite literally running away from him. you and me against the world, angel, but in that moment crowley firmly pushes him back to "the world" (or tries to, anyway).

the entire season we see crowley take off his glasses whenever he enters the bookshop to the point where he's running around without them on in broad daylight with jimbriel right there.

can you imagine how hurt and confused aziraphale must be?

because what crowley is telling him, if we really, really break it down, is that aziraphale is no longer a safe person for him. and repairing that trust is going to take time and work, no matter how much crowley loves him, how badly they love and need each other.

anyway to seal this off and really rub in the pain - how it started vs. how it ended. <3

oh one last thing: now crowley no longer has a single person he can be himself around, no one that knows him, no one he trusts. no one in whose presence he can take his glasses off.

and outside of the bentley and his own flat, he no longer has a place to do so either. the bookshop was theirs. with aziraphale gone, is it really a safe place anymore? is it somewhere he can just let himself be knowing he will be looked after and protected?

easy answer: no.

alright, off i go. see y'all on the next angst post or in the tags.

[mocchii-writes]

can you do a thanos x reader (with slight dae Ho x reader) where they used to date before he became a rapper and did drugs and she’s the only person he ever truly loved. They break up because of the person he becomes and cut contact, seeing each other for the first time at the games. Thanos is keeping up his cool guy persona and flirting in a dickhead way, but then he sees her getting along with dae Ho (who likes her too) that cause thanos to actually be vulnerable with the reader in private, acting like he once was. up to you if you want to make it an angsty or fluffy ending

Well, all the stars would shine a bloody red

Paring: Choi Su-bong (Thanos) x fem!reader, slight Kang Dae-ho x reader

Summary: Seeing Thanos in the games after he changed for the worse, but he sees you too.

Words: 3k

Warnings: Brief mentions of prayer, mentions of drugs, swearing, death, squid game stuff

A/n: grr I'm not good with angst, I'm sorry if this sucks lol. Also, it came out way longer than I expected, so sorry for that ♡

~🍡🍡

The world seems blurry around Thanos. The leaves on the ground are nothing more than a distraction from your face. His heart beats faster as you smile at him, telling him some story he can't remember. The park is nice, a cool breeze ruffling your hair slightly.

His hearing is the first to go, and your voice becomes incomprehensible murmurs as the world slowly darkens and shifts. He can't see you anymore, either, and his vision soon blackens like an exposed film. Soon, the darkness is replaced by blaring lights as he opens his eyes.

Oh.

He sits up, his loose shirt clinging to his damp cold sweat. Why had he dreamt about you? It was so long ago, but he knew he'd never recover. His mattress always feels empty, now. No matter what girl is in it, it's always empty. You were so perfect, how could he have lost you?

It doesn't matter anymore, and he knows it. His life is better now. He just needs to keep saying that until he can wake up and feel like an entire person. But for now, he's just a husk, and he knows it. He'd never admit it, though. He can hardly admit it to himself. He knows he's changed. He wishes he could say for the better, but fame does something to a person. He still remembers that day.

He was high all the time, at clubs or concerts, hardly home, and hardly himself. You had spoken to him a week or two ago, telling him you were worried.

"Please, Su-bong." You had whispered. It was the first time you had gotten to speak to him in a while. "Why are you doing this? Why are you changing so quickly? So harshly?" He thought you were going to cry. So did you. Your hand rests on his arm. But he, for some fucked up reason, brushed you off.

"Chill, man. I'm not changing, I'm living my life. Why can't you just let me? Be happy for me?" He shoves your hand away. "I have a signing soon, see you later," he dismissed you.

That night, though. He should've been able to tell you were different. Your demeanor was cold and dry. But he couldn't even recognize himself, so you expected nothing more. You were sitting on the couch, arms crossed, zoning out into the ceiling. He stumbled in, clearly high off his mind. He had hickeys. You don't care, at this point. You can't remember the last time he even hugged you, but you stopped trying a while ago.

"Hey, Baby," he muttered, taking off his jacket. He walked over and sat next to you, turning on the TV.

"Do you know what day it is?" You calmly asked. You were prepared for this. You already knew what he would say, he didn't even deserve the benefit of the doubt, but you still asked him anyway.

"Happy anniversary." He'd said, dismissively, switching the channel. You scoffed, focusing your eyes on him. You stood, and he looked at you, almost annoyed.

"You're not yourself." You say, biting your lip, trying not to break.

"What? Flower, I thought we were past this." He groaned. You didn't say anything. You just grabbed your phone and walked to the door.

"Talk to me when you can remember my birthday." You said, slamming the door. He didn't comprehend it at the time, passing out after a while.

But he does now.

He can't take it. He lost all his money, unable to blind himself anymore. He rarely dreams of you, but it hurts more each time he does. He was stupid. He is stupid. He's never felt for someone like you since then. He stands, defeated, and heads outside.

He's not proud of what he plans to do, but he is confused when a man in a suit approaches him.

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

You have to squint your eyes to get used to the bright florescent lights in the strange room you find yourself in. You panic, but only briefly, before remembering the Ddakji, the small card, and the ominous car you entered.

You take a moment to assess your situation but don't get very far. There are many different kinds of people around you, seemingly in the same situation. You wear identical tracksuits with different numbers and are surrounded by strategically stacked metal bed frames. You then notice the violin music playing from seemingly nowhere and everywhere, and you finally stand up.

Many people join you as the crowd looks confused. Until a buzzing sound is heard, cutting off the peaceful music, as large doors at the front of the room open, and people in bright pink uniforms walk out. One starts talking about games, money, and lots of things that would normally interest you (or any other sane person), but your attention has drifted elsewhere, your world stopping in its tracks.

It's not like he's difficult to notice. His hair is still that stupid purple, and he still seems to carry himself with a sense of arrogance, but you almost wish you hadn't seen him, as memories come flooding in of the life you still sometimes mourn.

You barely begin to think of him in a positive light before your thoughts are interrupted by his voice, proving your hopes wrong. "What's with these shoes?" You roll your eyes as you watch the back of his head. "My shoes are limited fucking edition, they're hard to find." He whines. "You going to replace them if they get ruined?" Nice to know his priorities haven't changed. Your dread doesn't fade when other people begin asking questions. You almost get on your knees and pray, right there, that he doesn't see you. Instead, you decide to focus on more important matters and listen to the guards' answers.

One particularly whiny guy pushes a little too hard, and his name and number are soon ominously announced by the guard speaking, followed by his debt, age, and history. You refrain from smiling as a video is played on a large screen of him playing Ddakji and presumably losing. More videos are played, thankfully none of you, but there is one of Thanos, sadly without him getting slapped. The pink guard then continues speaking, offering a chance at a better life, or so he says. It's not like you have very many options, though.

The lights turn off as you watch a clear piggy bank lower, grabbing your interest. Even more when a prize of 45.6 billion won is announced. It's not like you have many options. So, when lines are formed, you sign the paper.

Eyes naturally trailing to Thanos, you notice him fussing with the whiner from earlier. You can't hear what they're saying, but you resist the urge to scoff at his immature behavior. He's nothing if not consistent, at least. It is kind of funny, though, watching him be pulled off of the guy.

You get your picture taken, ignoring a flight of fans to Thanos and an embarrassing moment to witness, and are led to an open, sandy area. You see an ominous-looking doll, but your thoughts are interrupted. "The first game is Red Light, Green Light."

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

shit shit shit

What is this psychotic prison? You thought that 456 guy was crazy, high, or something other than honest! You know you don't have much time left. You glance up at the clock as it ticks down.

00:52

Well, fuck. You're going to end up like those people at the start of the game. Just another failure with no money or life dragged away before anyone could remember your name.

You can't distract yourself with that now, though. There are only a few people left (considering there are like 400 in total), and your position at this moment isn't the best. To make things worse, as soon as you hear that devilish singing, you're pushed. Hard.

Your body crashes to the ground, and you feel your leg bruising immediately. You struggle to stand up. You know you can't run anymore. The doll spins its head back around as your mind races.

00:28

You're going to die. You know you are. You can't make it that far whilst limping. You glance around, praying for something to happen in your favor when you make eye contact with someone at the end, already finished.

He looks kind, at least kinder than most people here. He sees you, he sees your situation, and he nods at you. You're unsure what that means until he runs to help you when the music plays again. When he reaches you, he freezes once he has an arm under you.

00:20

The doll looks away, and he pulls you up with ease. You wince, but you know you have bigger issues. He smiles apologetically as you both move as fast as your body lets you until the singing stops again.

00:14

You feel bad for this boy. He's just trying to help you, but you've now taken down another sweet person with you. He senses your tiresome energy and covers his mouth before the doll moves to look around.

"Don't give up. We're so close." He says, staring daggers into your eyes. You squeeze them shut and bite your lip. "You can do this," He whispers. The singing begins again.

00:07

You sigh and push yourself up again, both of you continue moving as you feel people's eyes on you.

00:02

He pushes you forward as you fall over the line, him soon after as the clock stops.

00:00

You instinctively cover your eyes as you hear the shots that echo through the room, as the remaining players lose their lives to this wretched game.

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

The boy walks with you back to the sleeping quarters. You're both shaken, but you manage to speak. "Thank you," you whisper, but you know he hears you. "I thought I wasn't going to make it."

He looks at you and nods. "Of course." He says softly, "I'm Dae-ho." You smile at him and introduce yourself. You both make your way to a corner and sit on his bed as the guards enter the room again.

Some people cry, some people start begging, and you kick your legs and watch it play out, frightened, but curious. Eventually, the familiar piggy bank dramatically stoops down again, this time filling with money, climactic music playing. The mood is soon killed, though. 24 million is the share each player would get, and you squint at the guard. Your mood isn't much better when you hear another voice.

"24 million?" Thanos asks, "You said 45.6 billion!" he says, an accusatory tone in his voice as the guard re-explains the situation. You aren't listening very closely anymore, though. Your heart and mind ache with thoughts of your past. You miss his kindness, the gentle Su-bong, who always closely cared for you. Now, all that's left is a harsh concrete wall between you two and the sting on your shins from the fall you took.

Before you know it, it's time to cast votes on whether to stay or leave this fever dream of a place. Your number is pretty low, so you get to see a lot of people's votes. Unsurprising to you, Thanos wants to stay. After a scene is caused by 456, you cast your vote and return to Dae-ho. He starts talking, breaking the silence between you.

Neither of you are quite sure what there is to say, but he talks anyway. He talks about his sisters, how they raised him, and his father, who never really knew him. He talks about his time in the military and what his life was like. You listen, nodding, laughing when he says something funny, and understanding. You both get food. It's not the best, but it's food, nonetheless. You begin to tell him about your life, but you're soon both distracted by 456, sharing his knowledge on the next game. Curious when you find out it's Dalgona, Dae-ho confirms your suspicions and verifies what the game is. Once the crowd dies down, he energetically offers you and himself to join the group, and they don't decline.

You're soon distracted, though. That empty aching feeling returns as you watch Thanos and his friend harass someone again. The same guy from earlier, 333. No matter how much you think you miss him, it's always drowned out by a hatred for who he is. You're soon brought to reality again as the sound of Thanos hitting the ground drives your attention back to the situation. The boy is soon held back and punched. Your stomach tightens as you watch the boy you once knew to be funny and kind, be so aggressive and violent. You know he'll never change, so you simply turn to focus on something less depressing, only to find Dae-ho slipping his egg onto your plate. You smile at him, distracting yourself successfully until even he looks over, noticing a man from your group kicking Thanos's ass.

You have to refrain from laughing, but Dae-ho doesn't try to hide the grin on his face. You could hardly admit to yourself that it slightly ached your soul to see your sweet boy be hurt like that, but the thought diminished quickly, replaced with an anxious realization that you're not just looking at Thanos, but his eyes.

He sees you.

Oh, fuck.

This was probably worse than watching that stupid timer tick away. His eyebrows soften from angry to shocked to bittersweet. He doesn't smile at you, but you can almost see his apology in his eyes if it weren't for his dilated pupils. His eyes look next to you, but your attention is soon changed as you hear Dae-ho. "Are you alright?" He asks, looking at you. It's only now you realize you're shaking, and you suddenly feel it all settling in. Your situation. The people, the place, the danger, it's a little too much. You bite your lip and nod, heading to the bathroom to clear your head.

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

You honestly should've expected it, but you didn't. You're standing over the sink, washing blood off of your face when the door opens. You look and immediately look away. How did he even get in here? You let out a shaky sigh as you grip the sink, distracting yourself yet again.

"Hey," Thanos says, his tone a little lighter than what you've heard so far.

"I can't believe they even let you in here." You scoff, trying, and failing, to hide the crack in your voice as you look at your reflection. You're a mess. Your hair is damp with sweat, water, and probably blood. Your face is tired, your lip is quivering. You honestly look worse than him, and he just got the shit beaten out of him. "What do you want from me?" You say, not looking at him. You honestly don't expect him to be gentle with you, he never was before you broke up, but you're proven wrong.

"I don't want to upset you, Baby." He whispers, walking closer slowly.

"Don't call me that." You say, closing your eyes. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to be an asshole like he always was. Then you could tell him off and leave him in the dust again, but now you have no plan. He's not being Thanos, he's being Su-bong. You haven't heard from Su-bong in a painfully long time.

He's still coming closer. You don't move, though. You're not sure what you want him to do, but you don't think he knows either. He leans down a little bit to look at you from the side, and you open your eyes and look at him, finally. He's so pretty. You feel your eyes getting glassy as you look at him, the pain of your burnt love story refreshing in your mind. His eyes aren't as dilated, but still a bit. You hope it's just because he's looking at you, but you aren't going to think about it.

He seems to notice your glossy eyes and furrows his brows, tilting his head slightly and looking at you sympathetically. It felt unwelcome but familiar. He lifts a hand slightly, appearing to try to touch you, but doesn't move it from its place in the space between you. You don't pull your eyes from his until the stinging is too much, and you close your eyes. You tilt your head downwards to hide the trickle against your cheek.

You feel his hand hold your face gently as he sighs lightly. "I'm so sorry," is all he whispers. You want to lean into his touch and accept his offer of love and forgiveness, but you're scared. He knows you are. But you don't move. You don't want him to stay, but you don't want him to leave.

"I know." You say, defeated. You bring your arms away from the sink to play with your hands, your body naturally turning to him. "You always said you were." You whisper, sniffing. You see his eyes close and he looks frustrated with himself, but you feel his other hand on yours, gently rubbing his thumb over your hands.

"I was so stupid, angel. I couldn't see what I was igniting until our love was already burnt." He says, never taking his eyes off you. You laugh lightly, and he smiles, confused. "What?"

"Kinda sappy, but I'd expect nothing less from you." You tease, as he scoffs. You sniff once more before dragging your eyes to meet his. You're met with nothing but care in his eyes. You look at him and are reminded of your perfect boy, who always made you smile.

"Please forgive me." He whispers. "I still dream about you. I've never loved someone like I love you." He admits, so quiet he was scared you might not hear, but you did. Your heart beats a little faster as you move closer, leaning your forehead to his. he closes his eyes, and you copy. You had certainly missed this.

"It will be difficult," you say, he nods, "Don't hurt me again, please." He bites his lip, and both his hands find your jaw, moving back to look at you.

You inch closer to each other, painfully slow. Your breath is shallow, you can feel your brain screaming to stop. He's so soft, though. Nothing is stopping you. You can feel his breath fanning onto your nose as his thumb glides over your cheek. Your hands have the urge to hold him, to let him love you and cherish you. You want to lay your face on his neck and fall asleep in his arms.

You want to question yourself, too. You want to stop, run away, and ignore every call. That is until your hands find his shirt, and you realize you can't stop if you try. This is what you need. This is why you want to cry. This is what you're aching for, and the heart wants what it wants.

So, you lean forward, accepting the wave of warmth that washes over you when he softly kisses you. You get chills up your body, one of your hands moving to his neck, then to his hair, slowly pressing a little harder, feeling him loosen in your grasp. You want to keep it this way forever, to stay in his presence and be showered with gentle love and appreciation until you're suffocated. But still, you lean back. You can't deny you're glad to see his smile when you open your eyes, and he can't say he's upset to see yours shining back.

[seresinhangmanjake]

The Harkonnen's Claim

Feyd-Rautha x Atreides!Reader

Summary: Your brother, Paul, took you from Feyd in a vulnerable moment, and if he wants the woman he loves back, he will have to give your brother something in return.

Notes/Warnings: this is part 2 of 2. Ignore canon ages in the timeline. I don’t know what they are, but everyone young is in their twenties, cool? Cool. Dune inaccuracies. Mention of pregnancy (present) and miscarriage (past). Jessica and Paul kind of (very much) suck. Feyd’s a soft boy for our reader. Smutty-ish (18+) and fluffy stuff, tidbit of angst. I'm sure there are spelling mistakes. I read it twenty times, but you know how it is. I think that’s it.

Words: 3300

Feyd Masterlist Part 1

You can’t see him—your eyelids are too heavy—but he’s shouting. Cursing. With each of his grunts glass shatters and metal clangs against the walls. Feminine voices are shrieking in sync with the rageful sounds coming from your lover and his actions. He is scaring them. He shouldn’t be scaring them. It isn’t their fault. 

“Get out!” he yells. 

More shrieks. Multiple pairs of feet rapidly shuffle about. The door slams and then Feyd is sitting beside you on the bed, one hand brushing your hair back from your forehead, the other rubbing up and down your forearm and pulling it onto his lap. 

“My love…” he says, “It’s ok. You’re ok.”

You swallow hard and peel open your eyelids to see his face hovering above you. A sigh leaves his lips when his eyes connect with yours.

“They were only here to help,” you mutter. 

Feyd bites down hard, sharpening the line of his jaw. He has much to say, you know, but he struggles to release his frustration in any manner other than shouting or fighting in the arena. Right now, he can’t do either.

“They did nothing to help,” he softly snaps. 

But he’s wrong. The women he brought in to examine you did exactly as they were told. It’s just that their conclusion upon taking a look at you was not what he, nor you, expected to hear. 

“Considering the excessive bleeding, she seems to have—” the woman paused; you could hear the tremble in her voice “—lost the baby, my Na-Baron. I’m very sorry.”

Neither of you has spoken about heirs or lineage or combining the genetics of Great Houses. You hadn’t even known of your pregnancy until you heard them tell Feyd that you are no longer carrying the child, and yet, you feel a tremendous loss. You instantly wonder what that child would have been. A boy? A girl? Would they have been a warrior like their father? Or more level-headed like their mother? Maybe a combination of both—that would probably be best for everyone.

“We’ll try again when you feel better,” Feyd tells you, leaning down and pressing his forehead into yours. 

Slowly closing your eyes, you reach a hand up to rest on the back of his neck, your thumb caressing between his ear and the curve of his jaw. “Feyd, we weren’t trying to begin with.”

“Does that mean we shouldn’t?” he asks. “You are meant to be the mother of my heir.”

You sigh. “Feyd–”

“You are,” he demands, but you can detect his hidden plea. “You will be.” 

—

They are scared of him—your son—or, at least, she is. 

With your ear pressed against the door, you can hear them in the halls. Mother and son arguing over your value. 

“Get rid of them, Paul, while you still can,” Lady Jessica implores him. “It’s in our best interest. You have no idea the kind of man she will raise that baby to be.”

But Paul has embraced his new role. There’s no hesitation in how he speaks to her anymore. His words are firm, but well-chosen. He truly was born to be a leader, just not the leader the Universe agreed on.  

“The boy will one day be the Baron, and by then, he will have grown stronger than most, his father included,” Paul confirms. “But we only benefit from having that on our side. From Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen’s need for my sister, an alliance will be formed that could last decades, maybe centuries. But if you harm her, he will come at us in a way his House never has before. And if he finds out you also took his child from him then he’ll spend the rest of his life hunting you, me, Alia…Chani…your future grandchildren—he won’t stop.”

Paul sighs. You can picture him running his hand through his curly locks. He’s done that ever since he was a child. From the moment his little hand could reach above his head, his fingers would be playing with that hair. His mother scolded him wherever he did it in front of the other families of great Houses. ‘Makes you appear anxious,’ she would say, and no son of hers was permitted to come off as anything but respectable in front of their equals. She knew of the man he would one day become. But her nagging didn’t help him in the end. 

“Paul, listen to m–”

“QUIET,” he commands in the Voice that seems to ripple through the halls. “You act as if I won that duel without effort. As if I could do it again in my sleep. But not only did he survive what should have killed him, he almost killed me,” he reminds her. “So do not let your hatred for my sister lead us down a vulnerable path.”

You pull your ear away from the door. How strange that you always knew she hated you and yet never heard it from anyone’s lips until now. You can’t say it hurts, but it does affirm that the only thing keeping you alive is the one thing you didn’t want to be: Feyd’s weakness. He’s saving you even though you’re out of reach. You and the baby he put inside of you. 

You run your hand over your clothed stomach. There’s no physical evidence of your pregnancy, but now that you know he’s there you can feel him…somehow. You feel his strength. You feel his grit. You feel what Lady Jessica fears, and you love it. You hope she lives in fear for many years, always keeping one eye on the half-Harkonnen child that her son commanded her to spare. 

The doorknob twists and you quickly back away as Paul steps into your bedroom. His brows pinch when he sees how you’re standing in the middle of the room. You’re not resting, you’re not admiring the scenery outside your window, there’s no book in your hand—you look suspicious. You can practically hear his thoughts. What were you doing, sister? 

“It’s time to go,” he tells you, stepping closer. You don’t have a chance to reply before the command “SLEEP” weaves into your brain. Your eyes close. Your body goes limp into your brother’s arms. Your mind shuts down. You’re gone. 

—

It’s bright. The inside of your eyelids are glowing the same orange shade as the flower your father traditionally gifted you on your birthday. It’s brighter than Caladan and Arrakis. A brightness you know only comes from Giedi Prime’s midday sun. 

You're moving but not by your own feet. Your eyelids flutter to adjust to your surroundings, and when they open, you find yourself tucked against a chest. An Atreides soldier, once your father’s, now sworn to serve your brother. 

“Put me down,” you mumble, but he doesn’t. “Put me down!”

“Put her down if she wants to be put down,” Paul says. “She won’t go anywhere. This is exactly where she wants to be.”

You’re set on your feet, but the soldier’s hand wraps around your bicep as the group comes to a halt. You do a quick glance around. Sixteen soldiers, suitably armed and shields activated. More on the ship likely, ready to attack if necessary. One Bene Gesserit bitch. One intended emperor with the skin of your brother. And you, anxiously awaiting him.

“Atreides!”

Feyd steps out of the Harkonnen fortress alone. He walks down the lengthy walkway alone. He has a blade at his hip, a shield, but no soldiers. You know they are somewhere, though, hiding, waiting for his call if needed.

As the distance between you lessens, tears attempt to blur your vision, but you blink them away. Your legs quiver, and you would collapse to your knees if not for the vice grip on your arm. He’s alive. He’s so beautifully alive. He’s broad, and strong, and he’s stomping toward your brother like a predator honing in on its prey. You didn't know for sure what he would look like after near death, and the last two weeks gave your mind the will to run wild, but he's perfect. Like it never happened.

“Paul, you must reconsider,” Lady Jessica whispers from behind him. “We do not need him.”

“I decide who and what we need,” he says. “My sister, my negotiations.”

She tips her head and steps back into place before shooting you a glare that you refuse to acknowledge.

Feyd is closing in, but his next step is deemed too close for Paul. Weapons are drawn. A blade presses into your neck. Feyd pauses. 

“Give me what's mine, Atreides!” he snaps. 

He’s seething and makes no attempt to hide it as he paces along the invisible line your brother has drawn. His brow is low, a shadow over the blue eyes piercing through Paul’s head. He hasn’t looked at you, but you know he won’t. Not directly. He already knows what your brother has over him and there’s no need to remind him by giving in to the internal panic he’s fighting. 

“Yours?” Paul returns. “She’s not yours yet, Harkonnen, so it would be wise of you to cooperate.”

Feyd practically growls, pale lips splitting to reveal black teeth as Paul gestures for you to stand beside him. The soldier shoves you forward and you turn to smack at his wrist. 

“I know how to walk,” you grumble. “Bastard.”

Paul clasps his hands behind his back. “You want her; that is understandable. She wants to be with you, too. You should have seen how she fell apart when she thought you were dead,” your brother taunts. His tongue clicks to make a tsking sound.

Feyd’s fingers twitch at his side, itching to grab the hilt of his knife. You know a layer of red bleeds across his vision. His thoughts are a jumble of demands bouncing around his skull. Kill. Maim. Destroy. Take what’s yours. But he can’t. And, excluding his uncle, Feyd hasn’t ever faced a situation where he can’t do as he pleases with whatever stands in front of him.

“Do not push him too far, Paul,” you mutter in warning. “He's not alone, either.”

Your brother ignores you, voice raising as he says, “And your son? You would like to have him as well, yes?”

The pacing stops. Feyd’s lips softly part. His eyes widen ever so slightly and he finally looks at you. When you lightly nod, his jaw clenches. 

Paul doesn’t miss the silent communication. “So,” he says, lifting his chin a half-inch, “are we calm now?”

Feyd inhales a deep breath and huffs it out through his nose. He does it again and again, chest puffing out then deflating like an animal desperate to strike. ‘Calm’ isn't exactly how you would describe him—good, you expect nothing less—but he’s not displaying the same heightened level of fury.

“What do you want, Atreides?” Feyd grunts.

“Loyalty,” Paul doesn’t hesitate to answer. “You are my cousin. You love my half-sister and the two of you will share a child, assuming you can behave yourself. Family should inherently be loyal to family, I believe. That’s a fair place to start.”

“To start?” Feyd spits. “Do not play with me, cousin. Tell me all that you want from me now.”

Paul’s lips curve in a slight smile. The same modest smile he used when greeting guests of your father’s. You have your own version of that smile. They are smiles capable of hiding secrets. Like the smiles you would give Lady Jessica in front of your father, and the smile Paul gave Princess Irulan when he formally claimed her hand days after the duel.

However, there are no secrets behind the smile this time. He knows exactly what he wants from your lover and takes pleasure in revealing the totality of it.

“This war is just beginning,” Paul tells Feyd. “The other Houses reject my leadership. You will not. You will make a public declaration that the Harkonnens will fight for me, alongside the Fremen,” he says. “If you refuse to fulfill this, I will return with every fighter I have. My sister will be our primary target and you will fail to protect her…again.”

The disrespect lingers in the air. To force a Harkonnen to kneel to an Atreides is a power Feyd once told you only you possess. But it appears Paul has forced an unexpected exception.

“There's nothing for you to debate, I imagine,” Paul says. “Not when it comes to the woman you love and your child.”

Paul gives a winning smirk at your lover’s silence—Feyd’s glare is answer enough. 

With a hand firmly on the center of your back, your brother guides you forward. “Go on,” he instructs. “There's no reason to keep him waiting.”

You turn your head back to Paul, expecting a trick, but when he nods in encouragement you rush over to Feyd in a light jog so as not to get tangled up in the skirts you can’t wait to tear off your body. A pale hand reaches out for you and curls around your waist when you’re close enough to be pulled against his chest. A kiss lands on your hairline before his forehead falls to rest on yours. 

“You're not hurt?” he asks. 

“I'm fine,” you promise him. 

“This will never have to become complex, Harkonnen,” Paul calls from his side. Your heads raise to look at him. “Your House now fights for mine. If loyalty is upheld, personal lines will not be crossed. In other words, your child and woman are safe from me as long as my empress, concubine, and children are safe from you.”

Feyd’s Adam’s apple bobs harshly with his hard swallow; another practice in tamping down his rage.

“I’m glad we can all walk away from this satisfied,” Paul continues, grinning ear to ear. “Except for my mother, of course. Were she given her way, my sister would be cut open on the floor and her womb ripped out of her. She doesn’t believe a Harkonnen can exercise restraint and respect agreements. I’m sure you’ll prove her wrong.”

Your dress tightens at your waist from Feyd’s fingers fisting into the material. “Keep your head,” you gently whisper. “Let him go.”

“You have three days to officially announce your allegiance,” Paul tells the two of you before turning to his ship. He enters first, followed by his mother who gives you a final look of disapproval, and then, two-by-two, his soldiers. Not until they’re a speck in the sky does Feyd place a hand on your cheek, guide your face to his, and seal his lips to yours. 

—

He intends to burn the dress to ash in the built-in incinerator that the Harkonnens consider a fireplace. Before now, you haven’t seen it demonstrate its purpose. Feyd refused. “We do not need that,” he would tell you, somewhat offended when you would request a bit more warmth in the middle of the night while he was next to you. He’d strip himself of any clothing he might’ve been wearing and tuck you into his side. “See? You’re fine now.”

Tonight, however, he’s quick to turn the thing on and let it heat up as he takes his knife to the back of your gown, slicing through the buttons that trace along your spine until the material slips off your body. He helps you out of the ring of destroyed fabric at your feet before wadding it into a ball and tossing it into the flames. 

Feyd hums, satisfied, then piece by piece the armor falls from his form until he’s bare with his body to yours, his lips sucking and nibbling, fingers kneading and exploring, cock easing in and out of your core. You cry as he bites into your neck, and soak in the moment for what it is compared to what it could have been had he not survived. How alone you would be. How distraught over what would become of you.

But he did survive. He’s here. You have him. His lips and teeth and touch and cock and heart—all yours. You have the warmth of his breath that brushes your face and neck and shoulders. You have his groans and moans; the perfect sounds he makes when he first enters you and when he cums. Everything you thought you’d lost is wrapped tightly in your arms. Safe. Protected.

He finishes inside of you twice, and as he begs for one more, the ache between your thighs tempts you to remind him he already got you pregnant. But when you study the tenderness in his eyes, your desire refreshes, the pain washes away, and you can’t get enough. You take until he can no longer give—when all he has the energy for is holding and kissing. 

Feyd leans over you in the bed, your legs intertwined under the sheets and his hand at the back of your head as his mouth moves with yours. 

“W-Wait,” you say between kisses. He hums against your lips and when you tilt your head back, he makes a noise of protest before joining them again. “I-I’m ser-ious.”

With his brow pinched, he pulls back to stare into your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth as you search for a delicate way to question the effectiveness of his new authority. “Feyd, what’s going to happen? What will everyone think?” you ask. “Your people? Your soldiers?”

“That’s what bothers you right now while in this bed with me?” You nod. He sighs. “I observed my uncle in his time as Baron. I’m capable of explaining these changes in a manner that will have them think nothing of it. Should an outlier take issue, they will face the known consequences. The rest will do as I command,” he says, emphasizing his words with another kiss. “Just as they will do as you command and as our son will one day command.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be silly. No one on Giedi Prime will listen to me,” you tell him. “My voice doesn’t mean anything to them.”

“They'll respect the voice of their Baroness.” 

Your brows raise. “Your wife?”

Feyd smirks and dips his head into the curve of your neck to lick and suck at sensitive skin. “Do you have objections, my love?”

It would be a lie to say you haven’t imagined being Feyd’s wife. It didn’t occupy your every thought, but it crossed your mind. Like when he would pluck out the eyes of the men who leered at you or remove the tongues of those who scoffed when you spoke. Or when you would watch him sleep and his face was unable to maintain the hard, stony stare that he brought back with him after dealing with his uncle. He’d be serene, the epitome of peace, and it was so lovely that sometimes you couldn’t help yourself. You would kiss his puffy lips until he woke to reciprocate, which led to him spreading your legs wide and stuffing his hard column of flesh between your folds. His ability to be gentle in his cruel world was how you knew he would be a good husband—to you, anyway. You have no idea the fate of his marriage were there a different bride.

His tongue runs over the bite mark and you gasp. “N-No.”

Lips trail along your jawline as his hand slides from the base of your neck between the valley of your breasts to settle on your stomach. 

“He'll be strong,” Feyd says, looking at you. “Our boy.”

You chuckle. “Stronger than you, I heard.”

Feyd swallows, then nods in acceptance. “Good. He’ll need to be,” he says, thumb stroking just above your navel. “The only Atreides my son will answer to is his mother.”

A/N: i'd be open to doing future fics for them if anyone is interested. you can send in requests if you want, no pressure. I have a different feyd fic in the works atm as well

@unicoreads @haehwasworld @moonsoulk @lothiriel9 @landlockedmermaid77 @vintageroses10 @mamawiggers1980 @mrsjobarnes @aoi-targaryen @buckysteveloki-me @pao-prazz @skel-skell @barnes70stark @pekusofixus @vanilla88 @niragiswhore @benwishaw

[55sturn]

wedding date!chris

ib: anyone who has written this trope! pls reply w their users so i can tag!

he was desperate to see you after months of no contact. the two of you had been the best of friends. from the age of seven, the two of you were nearly impossible to separate. you did everything together, wherever one went, the other was right beside them. and chris was absolutely enamoured by you from day one, which is why no one in his family could fathom how easily he let you walk away.

when the two of you began experimenting with one another sexually, chris blatantly ignored the warning signs going off on his brain. he just wanted you so incredibly bad, that he’d take you in whatever way you gave yourself to him. he didn’t care that he was putting almost seventeen years of friendship on the line. he was in love with you, but there were so many thoughts, doubts, fears, and insecurities firing off deep inside his mind that prevented him for telling you how he felt.

you weren’t stupid, you saw the way chris looked at you like you were the only person in the room that mattered. you saw the way he treated you, he treated you like you were more important than everyone else, the same way he treats his momma. you were, and still are, everything to chris. you saw the way he felt, he didn’t need words to say it, and the only reason you noticed it, is because it mirrored your own feelings. but you were waiting for chris to say something, to do something that didn’t end with you laying between his sheets.

and you got tired of waiting. the ball was in his court, and you had expected him to make the next move after you used the idea of sleeping together causally as a potential gateway to something more. but he never did anything. and it killed you.

you were a big believer in “if they want to, they will.” and you so badly wanted to believe that chris wanted you in the same way you wanted him. you really thought that he was going to take it to a serious level with you, and when you realized that he was treating less like you were the only thing that mattered, and more like every girl he’s been with before, you took your leave. you knew you deserved more than to be stuck waiting for a guy, even if he was your best friend, to decide if he wanted you.

and when you received a text from chris, your heart dropped. you didn’t know how to respond. because let’s be honest, how the fuck were you supposed to respond to the guy you fell in love with at the age of thirteen asking you to be his date to a family friend’s wedding after six months of no contact whatsoever? how the fuck were you supposed to respond after going from being apart of every milestone, big and small, to watching his life through videos and pictures on the internet, only getting updates through the small snippets he shared with his fans? and that’s what hit you the hardest, you were no longer someone that got a closer look at the inner workings of his life, private and public, but rather, you were living the same life as his fans. and you weren’t a fan, you couldn’t, and would not, let yourself live like that anymore.

not when you knew what songs he preferred when he was sad and driving around to clear his head, not when you knew that he’d make and eat his mom’s homemade soup when he was homesick, or that he always sent pictures of your favourite things to his mom when you were busy, or how he looked and sounded during his most intimate and vulnerable moments.

so, you took the time to carefully craft your response. agreeing to be his date, but only if the two of you could meet up somewhere and actually talk about what went wrong before you showed up to the wedding as his plus one.

and chris’ head was spinning as he read the text, he agreed without even knowing if you were still living in the same slightly run-down apartment complex just a few blocks away, and if you were, he was going to kick his own ass. because how could he let things get so bad between the two of you, how could he let you go, and remained unbothered by him for six months while being a ten minute walk away from him half the time? and when he found out that you were only ten minutes away from him, he was quick to show up at your apartment the next night at a quarter to midnight.

you were in the middle of drying your hair and getting your work uniform ready when a hefty series of knocks rattled against your door, it startled you slightly but your nerves calmed when you figured it was just your neighbour asking you to watch her sick cat while she ran to the corner store again, but as you opened the door, your heart rate spiked as you met the eyes of the very man that haunted your thoughts and dreams every night.

“chris, why are you here?”

STAR’S CORNER i started texting vi abt this idea and i needed to get it out rq, so let me know if u want me to keep building on this lil blurb !! also chapter one of SHUT UP MY MOM’S CALLING is possibly dropping late saturday night <3

© 55STURN 2025 ! REBLOGS OF MY WORK ARE NOT EXPECTED BUT GREATLY APPRECIATED !

[kquil]

POLY MARAUDERS | HEROES IN TATTOOS PRT.8

08 : TONIGHT

CHPT. SUM. : you finally get to call them yours and they finally get to call you theirs and it's amazing! but something's missing...and it absolutely has something to do with the ache between your legs! 

LENGTH : 6.1k

TAGS. : very suggestive chapter ; boys and reader being horny for each other ; but do we blame them? no. we. don't! ; james being a pest ; sirius being a hot biker ; remus being a gentleman ; reader being a brat ; remus not being a gentleman anymore ; prologue to nsfw chapter

← PREV. : 07 | APOLOGIES & COMFORT | SERIES M.LIST

You don’t know what you expected when the boys slowly began integrating you into their already-established relationship. In the beginning, you were worried about feeling like an outsider. From what they’ve shared with you, the boys have been best friends since their secondary school years, meaning that their history with each other was deeply rooted and you were intimidated, to say the least. You’re just a simple girl they helped protect from a creep a year or so ago. You couldn’t possibly stack up to the type of love they have with each other.

This was a reasonable insecurity to have, the boys understood that and were always there to reassure you of its negligible influence. And when their words weren’t enough, they happily showered you in affection, from loving kisses to warm embraces. They flirted shamelessly, left lingering touches scorched along your exposed skin and pulled you into kisses that ranged from feather-light to deeply passionate, they were eager to kiss and squeeze that vulnerability away until it no longer remained in your beautiful eyes. And you appreciate them so much for their efforts.

Not a second goes by when you don’t feel loved by them, or underappreciated. The love you reciprocated, although much softer and, somewhat, apprehensive, always made them melt into your arms. It was quite the trial considering how much bigger these men were compared to you. But you didn’t mind. Their warmth and weight against you only reinforced the realness of the situation, your situation, your relationship.

This was a dream come true – the best-case scenario for the mounting love you were amassing for each of the three tattooed and pierced men working at the parlour. If you told yourself this would be the outcome months ago, you wouldn’t have believed your ears.

“You’ve got that starry look in your eyes again, dollface,” Sirius chuckles as he presses a loving kiss to your fluttering eyelids, “what are you thinking? Hmmm?” The tattooist currently had you in his lap, disregarding the clock face on the wall. He was supposed to be preparing for a client who would be arriving soon but, instead of being a responsible tattooist, he had himself preoccupied with you.

“Sirius, you’ve got a client coming soon,” you pout, appearing more stressed over his appointment than he is.

As dramatic as always, Sirius put on a big show of missing you, his arms flailing about with his voice fluctuating in his theatrics, “But I’m feeling very deficient in vitamin ‘you’, sweetheart! I need to get my necessary second dose,” you roll your eyes at his playfulness and quietly argue about how this wasn’t his second dose.

“Rather, it’s been your fourth or fifth dose already,” giggling, you endeavour to kiss his pout away before trying to leave so he could have the time to prepare for his appointment while you caught up on your university assignments. Next thing you know, he has you nestled into his lap with your coursework papers set aside and your laptop closed shut. All your attention needed to be on him; he wanted it all.

“We have eight minutes,” he wagered deviously.

You’ve come to find out that Sirius was pretty spoiled when it came to affection. The distinction becomes even more apparent when you compare him to Remus and James. Thankfully, that translated into Sirius happily initiating affection as much as he pleads for it. He’s just this handsome, broad man with the most beautiful grin and the prettiest grey eyes separated by his perfect nose – he’s irresistible, really. And you know that he knows it too; all he has to do is pull those puppy-dog eyes and he gets anything and everything he wants. It’s almost frustrating how he wins your favour each time but you never regret giving into him.

No. Never for Sirius.

…Or Remus. Or James. God, you love these men so damn much!

“Doll?” he tilts his head adorably, a habit he’s picked up from the personified golden retriever himself – James.

“It’s nothing,” you hum, combing your fingers through his hair and pressing a kiss to his slightly scratchy jaw. His stubble was growing out ever so slightly and began to cast a light shadow across the lower half of his handsome face.

“Can’t be nothing,” he protests, delivering a loving nuzzle into the crown of your hair, “are you falling for me?~ Tell me the truth, beautiful girl,” he’s as playful as ever, an expert in heating up your cheeks for his own entertainment, “I know you’re shy but you’re also very honest, hmm?” you don’t respond and keep your focus trained on the rose tattoo creeping up his neck, with its expertly shaded thorns and petals. “I might just give you a reward if you’re honest with me,”

With a small smile, you peek up at him from beneath your lashes. The shadows they cast over your vision distract from the obvious pink hue exploding across his cheeks as soon as he catches your gaze, god! Could you get any more beautiful? You need to stop looking at him like that but also, please keep looking at him and never look away again! “I’ve already fallen for you, Sirius Black,”

Sirius’ jaw goes slack as his playful demeanour collapses under you. The prettiest smile he’s ever seen stretches across your plump lips, so kissable and laced with a shy playfulness he’s fallen in love with.

You drive him absolutely mad…

… and he loves it!

James adores scooping you up into his arms. Not only is your resounding squeal the most adorable thing he’s ever heard but he just cherishes the feel of you tucked up in his embrace. For the first time, he fully understands the expression of describing one’s significant other as their whole world. Because when he has you giggling in his arms, clinging to his neck and nuzzling your face into the space under his jaw, James feels as though he’s got the entire world in his arms – he can accomplish anything and everything he sets his mind to. With you in his arms, he’s invincible; there’s a power that surges through him, a little like adrenaline but not quite so. It’s more powerful. He doesn't know what it is or how exactly to articulate its distinctions but he feels its fullness and capabilities like no other. He is the ruler of an empire, a conqueror with his perfect queen ruling beside him.

He is the leading character of a poignant Shakespearean play with you as his equally established partner. He is one half of a star and you are the other. Each is a ridiculous example but each also feels so fitting.

Of course… Only you could have ignited such an unfounded emotion within him.

“You feel it too, right Moony?” James whispers whilst he and the tall body piercer observe your happy movements gracefully puttering about their upstairs office, organising stacks of paperwork for them.

“Love?” Remus asks. It should be the obvious answer – you’re the protagonist of their conversation after all – but astute to James’ unique expressions for the natural and mundane, the brunette knows it’s going to be one of those times when James strongly feels a certain way and finds it hard to put into words. It makes Remus smile knowing that it’s about you – it’s surely something he can sympathise with James on.

“I guess but… it's different, somehow,” he doesn’t quite know how to articulate it, he just feels it. In his chest, in his fingertips, in his throat, in his stomach, even in his toes – he feels it everywhere. How could he not? Just looking at you, James can already justify that what he was feeling was perfectly admissible, whether he could put it into words or not. What he feels is true, it’s real and it gets stronger (almost achingly so) whenever he looks at you. The apple of his eye… never had an expression fit so well.

“I understand,” Remus voices after a deep, rumbling hum. His gaze soon turns to the tattoo artist beside him, fond eyes softening and stepping much closer to him, “I feel it too — for her and you, and Sirius,”

“That’s a given,” James grins boyishly up at his best friend and precious lover before he’s pulled into a loving kiss.

Tucking your chin a little over your shoulder, you glimpse the inviting image of your two lovers locking lips. It was heartening to see that their love for one another hadn’t changed because of your recent entanglement with them too. There was always a little corner of worry in your heart for potentially breaking their bond due to your interference.

The last time you let that same emotion control you, the aftereffects were explosive and unnecessarily wounding to all parties so you keep the emotion in check often, the boys too. But there was no complete dismissal of it. As much as you adore the boys and their love for you, you also adore their love for each other. It was incredibly inspiring to see what they had built together. Their parlour, their love, their quaint, shared flat.

But now, you also had the privilege of seeing them share more intimate acts of love and it was leading to a bad habit, a bad staring habit. So much so that you didn’t notice the two breaking away from each other until their devious smirks were solely directed at you.

“Care to join us, my dear?” Remus calls his voice like a hypnotising whisper, pulling invisible strings to shift your feet forward and lure you in. In no time at all, you’re close enough for the two to lock you between their strong, tattooed arms and finally launch their attack. You’re not complaining.

You’re so grateful to be able to join in their love and be with them like this. And you’re curious about what the four of you would end up building together one day. Rather than a small flat, maybe a house? A family? With kids? Fur-babies? A cat or dog? Maybe both? Regardless, one promise was absolutely certain: a happy life that’s bursting at the seams with love – it was a very compelling thought.

Finally winding down for the night, you separate from the boys and remain tucked away in their neatly prepared spare bedroom. James and Sirius were proud to announce that they had tidied the place up for you; Remus would have contributed as well if it weren’t for him being the main man who handled the paperwork for the parlour.

You thanked the two for their thoughtfulness with a kiss but also kissed Remus for his hard work in ‘keeping their business alive’. It was a cheeky remark but one that got an adorable pout from James and Sirius along with a well-humoured laugh from the tall brunette himself. There was a love in his eyes that made you weak in the knees, his chocolate pools staring down at you, threatening to drown you in their warmth, his fingers ghosting the skin of your chin and ever so gently tilting your face to admire your features better. He moved as if he were propping up a delicate art piece, not wanting to press too harshly but enough to warrant a sensitive and lingering touch.

“You spoil us,” he utters as a heat blooms across your cheeks and a small peep pushes past your lips. Mistaking your incoherent squeak for verbal thought, Remus bends down at the waist with curious and furrowed brows, “What was that, my dear?” James and Sirius lightly snicker to themselves from the interaction. You would have scolded them for their childish behaviour if Remus didn’t have you melting into a puddle from doing absolutely nothing!

“I-It’s nothing, Rem,” thankfully, he didn’t need much convincing. Having him that close was intimidating – you just can’t believe that this beautiful, soft-spoken, loving and gentle giant of a man is yours.

The boys had allowed you to use the bathroom first and followed after you for their night routine. From where you sat at the vanity, you often catch yourself smiling and sometimes even giggling when you hear their antics echoing through the hallway. It was all very amusing and you had to bite your lip when thoughts of normalising this scenario into a nightly routine materialised in your head. It was still early on in your otherwise unconventional relationship and you didn’t want to risk anything. An eagerness for more was healthy but over-eagerness wouldn’t be worth potentially commencing an accelerated rate of negative interactions.

Going through your nightly skincare, you hum a soft tune to yourself. It felt like you were at your own flat, getting ready for bed as if it was any other night and the familiarity was surprising. You didn’t feel out of place at all despite the new environment. Although, you wouldn't expect anything less from your boys. They really knew how to make you feel welcome. At least you know that you’ll be sleeping restfully tonight.

“Almost ready for bed, Angel?” James’ sudden appearance in the doorway makes you tense before playfully pouting at him, especially when he has the gall to giggle at your startled reaction, “Awww~ don’t be like that, love~” he coos, walking up to stand behind your seated form. He, too, bends at the waist to kiss behind your ear and trail loving pecks down your neck to the slopes of your shoulder.

“My night routine is meant to be relaxing, Jamie,” you huff but he can hear the smile in your voice and looks up with his beautiful eyes, meeting your gaze in the vanity mirror. Slowly, he pulls his lips away from your exposed shoulder.

With a devilish smirk, he brings his lips to your ear and whispers, “I can help you with that…” You feel his feathery touch tracing the curves of your waist, coming up from your hips, “Relaxing, I mean~”

“James!”

He throws his head back with a laugh that makes his shoulders shake and his pretty curls bounce ever so slightly. He’s risen to his full height now and resists the urge to caress the skin of your cheek, respectful of your freshly applied skincare — he’s had to put up with Sirius’ grumbles and whines after mistakenly kissing his still dewy, moisturised cheek on previous nights. And James wouldn’t want to ruin your first night here like that. He’s no amateur. Instead, James concedes to caressing your hair and placing a loving kiss onto your crown. He loves the combined smell of your hair products and natural scent. It’s solely you; a fragrance that could never be contained in a bottle, which is, both, a pity and a relief. A pity that he can’t carry a small bottle around whenever he’s missing you horribly bad. But a relief that something so intimate about you couldn’t be shared beyond him, Sirius and Remus. James would rather set the world ablaze before that ever came to fruition.

“Alright, my love, I’ll leave you be…” you begin to sigh in relief until, “-for now~”

“James!” you giggle sweetly, and he joins you not too long after, “You’re such a pest!”

He cackles adorably as he walks back to the door, making his exit swift and injury-free – he, just barely, evades your swatting hands. The two of you gradually allow your shared merriment to fade into a comfortable silence. You return to completing your skincare routine while James remains at the doorway.

From afar, the tattooist quietly admires your figure, elegant and so… so girly as you go through your nightly regime. It wasn’t a bad thing seeing your femininity shine through was refreshing. Sure, Sirius partook in the same self-care religiously, at the start of every day and the beginning of every night but you, with your cosy pyjamas, fuzzy slippers, panda ears headband and prettily laid out products, have James bewitched; entranced in the most blissful way. He likes seeing and observing you like this. So comfortable that there isn’t a single change in your routine; so comfortable that you’re humming to yourself; so comfortable that you look like you belong here. Truthfully, he’s wanted to ask you to move in for quite some time now but understands the importance of going at a steady pace and one that everyone agrees on.

You all finally have each other to call your own, that’s what truly mattered at the end of the day. So he holds himself back.

The routine you have is quite thorough so you’re not one to exclude your neck area or chest. As you adjust your clothes to prep your neck and chest area, James glimpses more and more of your skin each time. Naturally, his cheeks colour a soft pink while his thoughts are gradually consumed by all the things he wants to do to you — bending you over every piece of furniture in the flat, not discounting the walls or the carpeted floor, even atop and inside his beloved car. Every hot and crude detail is uncensored, the images that flash in his head are dangerously explicit and encompass you wholely. Your pleasure is his top priority. He’ll have you moaning in his ear, panting for breath as he goes faster, harder, whatever you want, as long as you keep singing for him. Singing until you’re screaming and reaching your peak over and over and over—

“The door locks, y’know,” James mentions casually, not surprising you as much this time. Although his random comment does make you raise a brow.

“Oh?” you apply your berry-flavoured lip mask and smile at him through the mirror with a hint of curiosity, “Okay, thank you for telling me, Jamie,” it still wasn’t clear to you what he was trying to get at with his casual but warning remark.

“Are you going to lock it for the night?” his question makes you stop for a moment, what was he trying to say? “I think you should lock it, angel… you don’t want any surprise visitors — it’s hard resisting you this long,” he had a teasing smile on his lips but there was a dark look in his eyes that made you shudder. That’s what he meant…

“A-alright,”

He pauses, appearing to contemplate something as he leans forward but ultimately decides against his earlier intentions and straightens his posture accordingly, “that’s my good girl,” you watch his sly smirk disappear from the vanity mirror. It takes you a few moments longer to return to your skincare routine.

Sirius smirks at you with an amused glint in his eye, “do you want to sit on it?” he asks, his big hand gently patting the seat of his bike. Being able to see right through you and read your inner thoughts was one of Sirius’ many talents. It amazed you but also made your cheeks flush in embarrassment. Were you really that transparent and readable? To Sirius, you were, but that’s only because he’s grown to have a keen eye for you and your little quirks; he finds them adorable and adores being able to read your thoughts, so that he knows he’s catering to you well.

Your hesitation is obvious. It’s not like you haven’t ridden on his motorbike before; you’ve ridden on it plenty of times. However, it was usually with you seated behind Sirius. For a while, you contemplated whether or not it would feel different to be the actual biker. You didn’t know how to ride a motorbike so you were secretly hoping that Sirius would allow you to hop on after he did his routine motorbike maintenance. It was common to do these checks and services every 6 months, but because Sirius used his motorbike so often, he tracked the regular services based on the miles he covered. He’s already crossed 4000 miles so his bike was due for some maintenance already.

“Are you sure?” you ask in a voice that’s so soft and sweet, Sirius can’t help but temper his smirk into a warm smile.

“It’s safe, sweetheart, and I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t okay with it,” the bright grin you gifted him made Sirius question why he hadn’t thought to make such an offer sooner. It was clear that you were interested in his bike but he didn’t know whether or not he was deciphering your intentions correctly, until now. With a skip in your step, you make your way over as Sirius chuckles to himself.

You’re just too cute~

“Thank you, Siri,” you reach up to cup his jaw and gently guide him down to press a loving kiss against his cheek.

“Anything for you, Doll,” he kisses your cheek as well, just before you get the chance to pull too far away from him. Sirius then guides you onto his motorbike, offering to stabilise you with his hands on your hips as you get settled on the seat. With his strength alone, he takes the bike off his kickstand and straightens it from the back so that you can experience what it’s really like without the bike being slanted to the side. The tattooist is much taller than you and so you aren’t able to fully flatfoot your feet, instead your toes barely brush the ground. Seeing that you’re able to just swing your feet back and forth, a quiet giggle escapes you – music to Sirius’ ears.

“This is fun!” you cheer softly, still quite shy as you glance over your shoulder with a flutter of your lashes, meeting eyes with the inked-up biker, who was grinning brightly at you. His strong arms are on full display, tattoos and all, as he holds the bike straight and steady from behind. He’s dressed in a simple black tank top and loose grey joggers. It’s a style that James often wears around their flat but you’re not surprised that Sirius was able to pull off the look too. With a face like his, you can easily determine that he’d suit any style he tries on.

“Why don’t you try pretending you’re actually riding it by grabbing onto the handles,” he encourages, excited. Having James, Remus and you as his loves were heaven on earth, but being able to share one of his favourite hobbies and his beloved motorbike fostered a different kind of haven in his heart. It’s overflowing and shows easily in his voice.

“Okay!” eagerly, you lean forward to grasp onto the handles and, with a feverish buzz, pretend you’re actually riding the bike out on the road. From backpacking behind Sirius so often, imagining the shift in positions and being the actual biker was quite easy. What a thrill! No wonder Sirius makes up any excuse to be out on his bike.

Yes, you’re still stationary but it’s just too easy to imagine everything, from the wind in your hair to the adrenaline pumping through your veins, encouraged by the rapidly passing views on either side of you. A view of the seaside at sunset is very appealing but winding country roads also offer great scenery. You can hear your heartbeat rising to match your vision and you have to bite your lip to contain an elated laugh. There’s no need to embarrass yourself even more, especially with Sirius behind you.

So stuck in your pretending, you miss Sirius’ partially restrained groan of frustration from behind your leant-over figure, “Fuck. Me…” he has the perfect view of your ass. And when you’re bent over his bike like this, his joggers tighten up around his crotch alarmingly fast. Never mind that the joggers were already very loose-fitting, he can’t help himself when you’re offering him such a spectacular view. And to have it be on top of his motorbike too…

The things you do to him… the things he would do to you.

Suppressing another groan, Sirius hurries to free his kickstand and lean his bike over before you realise what’s happening. It takes a lot of strength and agility but his focus has narrowly concentrated on you and nothing was going to get in his way. He has to resist going all the way – for now – but that doesn’t mean resigning himself to zero contact at all.

“Siri–?!” you squeal in surprise when he lifts you off his bike and positions you in a way that forces your legs to wrap around his hips from fear of falling, while his arms circle your hips, “what’s this all about?” you give an adorable tilt of your head as you look down at him, perched a little higher on his torso so that your hands could place themselves on his sturdy shoulders while his arm provides a sort of seat for you underneath.

“I’ll show you what this is about,” his voice is several octaves lower, barely recognisable from where they resonate at the far back of his throat. His big hands grab the globes of your ass and lower you down from your upper perch so that he grinds your covered pussy lips against his erect cock. Even through the fabric of his joggers, the sheer size of him is obvious and it’s mortifying how wet you get. He keeps you pressed against him as he swallows your shocked gasp, prying your lips apart with his tongue so he can explore your sweet mouth.

“...you can’t be showing your perfect ass like that – so pretty on top of my bike – without facing the consequences, dollface,”

“But!” you manage to protest between his eager lips, “but you said–!”

“I know what I said,” he bites at your lower lips and grinds against you, “I guess we’re both at fault that I’m like this right now, huh, baby?” he pulls away to suck and nibble on your neck, loving the moans he draws from you, “Nothing a little loving can’t fix, right?”

He won’t go too far… just a little grinding here and there while he devours your pretty little mouth. That’s all he’s asking for. And, being the lovely, kind princess that you are, of course, you oblige him.

“A-alright…” you conceded, finally trying to match his level of eagerness when his lips connected with yours once more.

“That’s my girl~”

The initial week everything came to a head, where all was revealed and you ended up spending the night at the boys’ flat, only for disaster to hit in the form of your period the next day was weeks behind you now. You're surprised that a week after that – when you had finally gotten off your dreaded period – Remus didn’t pounce on you. Nor did James. Or Sirius. Now an entire month has passed and still nothing. James and Sirius have been more impassioned than Remus but it appears as though they’re more united than ever on the simple fact of ‘going easy’ on you.

The tall brunette insinuated such provocative things that night. Thinking back to that moment makes butterflies explode in your stomach, all while a ravenous heat spreads chaotically throughout your body. That same heat then stubbornly settles between your legs and in your lower belly. You’re ashamed to admit that you were really looking forward to what Remus planned on doing to you…

But now he’s being the perfect gentleman again and you don’t know what to do!

You love how gentlemanly he is, kissing you sweetly on the cheek, whispering loving, poetic words only for you to hear, listening to anything and everything you wanted to say with the utmost attention and interest, pulling doors open for you, doing little favours that made your days go by smoother and so much more. It felt incredibly unreasonable to complain when there was nothing to complain about! Though… were you really complaining? If you think about it, all you would be doing is expressing your opinion and providing some constructive criticism for what you want out of the relationship – there’s nothing wrong with that, is there?

When you officially became theirs and them, yours, it was established and emphasised heavily by Remus, himself, that communication was key to having a successful and loving relationship. If something was wrong, you could go to them without any hesitation; they promised to never disregard your worries or dismiss them apathetically. And you made the same promise to them, in return. If they were ever feeling insecure about something in the relationship then they could communicate any concerns they have to you without feeling an ounce of fear. By verbalising your, somewhat, embarrassing internal torment, you’d be keeping your promise and prioritising communication — just like you all promised each other!

So you have nothing to worry about…

It’s just a little hard to verbalise that’s all…

…maybe you should wait until after dinner tonight? Remus looks a little busy right now…

“Don’t look at me with those eyes, pretty girl,” Remus’ low, bordering seductive, voice tenses your nerves, pulling a lazy chuckle from the back of his throat at the adorable sight of your surprise, “you’re distracting me,” he emphasises his statement with the tap of his pen onto the papers laid out before him. Despite his comment, however, he doesn’t sound angry and he’s not frowning either. Instead, Remus has his chin in the palm of his hand and tilts his head at you, smiling fondly at your visage.

“You look like you don’t mind it,” you shot back, voice shy but quippy, parallel to the defiant folding of your arms.

Remus throws his head back with a laugh before shaking his head at you. His smile widens and he bites his lower lip to force it down just a little bit. As you put on a playful pout, your earlier thoughts slipping from your mind, the tattooed body piercer rolls over to you on his wheeled office chair.

Reaching you in a few long strides, knee to knee, he disregards your sassy comment and simply asks, “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

A heat crawls up your neck and settles on the apples of your cheeks as your earlier contemplations return. It’s a little hard to muster up your courage to speak right now. And, conveniently, the carpeted floors look very interesting all of a sudden.

“I-It was nothing,” you unfold your arms and fidget with the hem of your pleated skirt; your gaze still fixed onto the office’s dark grey carpet.

He quirks a brow but doesn’t say anything despite the question evident in his chocolate-brown eyes. His gaze holds onto your own, the small smile on his lips calming your earlier taut nerves. In your peripheral, Remus slides his fingertips over the skin of your thighs, his movement careful and feathery until he hears you suck in a sharp breath. As soon as your eyes widen, shocked by his unexpected touch and you release a sharp gasp, Remus throws all care out the window. He proceeds to slide his grip under your thighs and, hoists you up and over to sit on his lap. Thankfully his office chair doesn’t have any armrests so he’s able to comfortably seat you there, pretty as can be.

“You’re sure you can’t tell me?” he asks in a murmur, muffled by the skin of your temple as he presses a soft kiss there.

“It’s really nothing!” you squeak, avoiding his eyes and missing his fond smile as he watches you fumbling with your hands. He keeps you perfectly seated on his lap from where he firmly grips your outer thighs. Your skin is so soft and smooth with the perfect amount of fluff, to fill it in – he loves all of you but if he had to choose, he’d say your thighs were his favourite feature.

“You can be honest with me,” you don’t answer, tucking your flustered face into the crook of his neck instead. Fondly, he begins to caress the back of your head with one hand, the other still on your thigh. He lowers his voice into a quiet murmur so only you can hear, “Why don’t you whisper it to me instead?”

Funnily enough, his suggestion, no matter how simple, was convincing. It was meant for his ears only and you didn’t want to risk anyone else hearing your inner thoughts out loud. Also, the idea of whispering your carnal contemplations felt… safer somehow. Intimate too but you ran with it, your thoughts begging to be released.

Leaning up, you place one hand on his broad chest, the other on his shoulder so as to position your lips beside his ear with enough stability, “I was just thinking about…umm,”

“Hmm?...” you feel his thumbs caressing the skin of your thighs — a comforting gesture that you feel embarrassed for being unsuited to your pending admission.

“About you…”

Something flashes in his eyes, “...What about me, my love?” he hopes to god he hasn’t upset you.

You pause to muster up enough courage, “...about what you said you would do to me that night…” Hopefully, he knows what you’re referring to because you don’t think you’ll be able to articulate his exact words or the entire situation properly. You’re already far too sheepish.

Holding your breath, you wait for some sort of reaction, maybe a spoken word? Something… But Remus’ lips are sealed shut and there’s only silence. Your heart hammers in your ears as you slowly pull away from the safety of your lover’s neck and peek up to gauge his reaction, only to find that his face shows no emotion at all. You’re tempted to whisper his name, a soft prompt and an indirect request for some sort of answer when he’s suddenly pulling you into a deep kiss. One hand cups your jaw as the other explores your curves. His movement and the feeling he imbues in the kiss – all of it points to an impatience and a vicious need, the need to have you in every way possible.

Remus explores the lines of your shape but makes a small sound of displeasure when his hands are unable to sneak up the AC/DC graphic shirt you stole from Sirius as it’s tucked into your pleated skirt. Quickly, he moves his large hands back to your exposed thighs. You hold your breath as you feel his warm touch move up your warm skin, far enough to sneak past the hem of your pleated skirt.

“Please…” Remus relishes in the moan that parts your delicious, bruised lips, “I can take it! Please please please,” you gasp and pant, your shaking voice emphasising your desperation for more. You’ve waited so long, you’ve been so patient, you’re ready for this! The feel of his lips against your skin is addictive but your addiction is insatiable from that alone and you beg for more.

“Are you sure about that?” Remus’ lips make it to the shell of your ear, where his husky voice whispers as he grabs at your ass. With his hands full of you, he pulls you in to grind his bulging hardness against your puffy, lower lips and dampening panties. He relishes in the moans that you can’t contain behind trembling, kiss-bitten lips and smirks when he hears the click of the office door opening.

“She’s ready for us then?” James asks, the smirk on his lips obvious through the smug tone of his voice.

“It’s about damn time,”

Remus smiles as you tuck your flustered face into the crook of his neck and gives your ass a reassuring squeeze beneath your skirt, “Tonight, sweetheart,”

You pout at his remark and pull away with a huff, “No!” you protest defiantly, “Now!” You’re tired of waiting! And what’s the use of their upstairs, private office space if you can’t do private things in it?

“Don’t be a brat, dove,” Remus warns, the usual warmth leaving his eyes as Sirius and James step into the room and close the door behind them but don’t step an inch closer.

“But I’ve waited so long, please Rem, I promise I can take it—” you squeal loudly when a harsh slap hits your ass. So caught up in your needs, you completely missed how Remus used one hand to lift your skirt while his other prepared to deliver penance.

“Rem–!” ignoring your whining, he sits down to bend you over his lap and continues beating your ass despite your shrieks of pain. It wasn’t until you were a whimpering tearful mess that Remus finally relented, his big hand returning to their gentle touches as he comfortingly palms your sore ass. He’s sorry. But you were being a brat.

“Brats don’t deserve to get what they want, even if they say please, do I make myself clear?”

Unable to vocalise properly through your tears and pitiful whimpers, you simply nod your head but squealed when Remus cupped your tender asscheek and gave it a firm squeeze of displeasure, “Y-yes sir,”

“Good girl,” Remus hums softly,

NAVI. | SERIES M.LIST | NEXT : 09 | THE NIGHT... →

A/N : next chapter will be where everything goes down my loves! i hope you're prepared and i'm sorry for making you all wait this long; what can i say? i love a good slow burn smut hehe~

again, i'd like to remind everyone that i have discontinued all my taglists but made a side account for you to follow so you can be notified whenever i post something new, just turn on notifications @thekqipond

please like, comment and reblog to show your support, i'd really appreciate it! property of kquil ; all written content is mine and no one else's unless stated otherwise ; do not steal, plagiarise, modify or translate to other sites

[darlingdaisyfarm]

mullet!Stan Pines headcanons

✦ it’s rare that you see him without a shirt, but one day you spot the burn scar tattoo you think? etched into his shoulder, something Stan never intended to have. he notices you looking and quickly covers. “ain’t nothin’ to look at, sweetheart” he laughs awkwardly, turning away

✦ now, whenever your hand brushes over it, even accidentally, though not really, because you’re so curious and want to know what is it, Stan freezes up and it takes him a second to relax again. he blinks, brows furrowed, face blank as he falls out of reality, like it brings him right back to that fight with his brother. you gently trace the scar and Stan lets you, though you can feel him fighting the wish to pull away. “just. . . don’t think about it too much, alright?” he’ll mumble, but you know that for Stan, this scar means more than he’ll ever admit.

✦ however one night Stanley finally tells you the full story. how it happened, the anger, the betrayal, the pain he never quite dealt with. he looks away, ashamed, preparing to be slapped and yelled at, but you gently tilt his face back toward you, brushing a thumb over the scar, tracing it without a word, letting him know it doesn’t change how you see him. when he wants to pull away, you stop him with a tender smile, whispering that he’s safe, that whatever happened, he’s not alone in it anymore

okay enough angst :)

✦ there’s a god somewhere blessing this man with a mullet and it’s only right that you get to take care of it. imagine him sitting there all gruff and complaining at first, like “i don’t need pampering,” but the second you get your hands in his hair he goes soft, eyes closed, practically melting. the tough guy act drops and he’s yours to play with. he’d mumble something like, “didn’t know ya liked my hair this much,” trying to sound casual, but he’s putty in your hands and he knows it. might even lean into you, letting you do whatever you want.

✦ so yeah, Stan will never admit It, but he loves being pampered. brush your fingers through his hair, scratch his back or rub his shoulders, and he’ll melt right there. “aw, c’mon, I don’t need all that mushy stuff,” he’ll grumble, but then he’ll lean right into your touch, closing his eyes, sighing as you work out the knots in his shoulders. “alright, alright, I take it back. keep doin’ that, I’m beggin’ ya.” and he’s yours — grumpy, needy mess, secretly loving every second.

✦ when it’s late and there’s an open bottle of whiskey between you, Stan got just enough liquor in him that his guard slips. he’s closer than usual, looking at you like you’re the only thing worth seeing and then out of nowhere, he speaks so damn quiet, “ain’t used to somebody like you.” he’s saying it to himself more than anything. and when you press him on it he brushes it off, acting all tough like he didn’t just spill his heart right there

✦ you’ll never hear it in so many words, but it’s there in all the little things he does. after a rough day or some dumb close call, he’ll look at you a little longer than usual, saying softly, “don’t know what i’d do without ya, y’know?” and yeah, then he’ll laugh it off, crack a joke to brush it away, because he’s so scared to show vulnerability but you still notice the truth in his eyes. he’s showing it even if he can’t say it out loud. it’s his way, in that unpolished, stubborn way of his, but damn, if it isn’t sweet.  

✦ sometimes, it all boils over and you two end up in a heated argument because he can be so damn stubborn, your voices raised, tempers flaring. but after it’s over, when the dust settles he’s not one to just let it go. Stan will not forgive himself if another person close to him leaves him. he’ll come back to you, eyes softer, whispering apologies under his breath, wanting to make things right, at least once. he pulls you close, his fingers brushing your cheek while he looks into it eyes just to make sure they aren’t red from tears.

✦ “i ain’t the best guy, ya know?” you want to reassure him that he’s more than just a messed-up past. when he looks at you, his eyes searching yours, it’s like he’s waiting for you to see through the bullshit. and god, when you reach for him, telling him he’s enough, you can practically feel him exhale, releasing that tight tension.

✦ at first, Stan hid his jealousy. well, what can you do, this man is used to hiding all his life. so before, when someone else got a little too close to you, Stan would hide his jealousy with “just didn’t like the way they were lookin’ at ya, thats all”

so later when you got much closer, he’s all kinds of possessive in the hottest way. someone brushes past you at the bar or shack? his grip on your waist tightens just a bit and he’s leaning in, “you keep yer distance.” actually Stan isnt just jealous, he needs to keep you close, to remind everyone that you’re his

✦ so now you know — this man is possessive, if he’s got you, he wants everybody to know it. he’ll leave little marks, love bites along your collarbone, your shoulders, neck, anywhere he can reach. he’ll smirk when he sees them later, running his thumb over the spot, all proud, whispering something like, “gotta let ‘em know who ya belong to.” so when he notices you wearing something that shows them off, that just sets him off all over again.

✦ sometimes, Stanley just gets quiet, he’ll pull you into this tight hug, burying his face against your neck. no words, no jokes, just him, needing you. maybe it’s after a long day, or some memory from the past got to him, but he won’t explain it, not yet. he’ll just hold you like he’s afraid of letting go, mumbling a half-hearted “don’t mind me”

✦ you’ll never know about it, but sometimes he’ll wake up early just to look at you, his hand resting on your side, thumb rubbing lazy circles on your hip. he’d mumble under his breath, half in awe, half still sleepy, “how the hell’d i get so lucky?” it’s this rare soft look he’ll snap out of the second you move in your sleep, pretending he wasn’t just watching you like you’re the best damn thing he’s ever seen.

✦ as cocky as Stan is, sometimes he’ll just lean back and wait, watching you with this smug lazy smirk, waiting for you to break first. he’ll spread his arms, eyebrows raised, saying “go on, sweetheart, show me what ya got.” and it’s not that he doesn’t want you, he’s just savouring the anticipation, the way you look when you finally grab his shirt and pull him close, wiping that smirk right off his face as he gives in, hands rough and needy on you

✦ there’s something about Stan getting down and dirty with his car that just makes him even hotter. he’ll be sprawled under the hood, greasy hands and all, and when you come by, he’ll flash that charming grin and you’ll find him making suggestive comments about how the car isn’t the only thing he’d love to get under

✦ you’ll be curled up together watching some old flick and the moment something emotional hits you’ll catch him sneaking a sniffle, clearing his throat like it’s nothing. “damn movies, always gettin’ me,” he’ll grumble, trying to cover it up, but when you tease him, he’ll roll his eyes. “oh please, sweetheart, I just. . . like a good story, okay?”

[paiges-1vur]

can i have you baby…? as always enjoy loves <3

it was the middle of the night, 1:04 am to be exact. in paiges bed, she currently has her arms wrapped around you not wanting to let you go. "paige i have to go to the bathroom.. let me go” you pleaded. "mmm, it can wait. your so warm." paige mumbles in a drowsy yet husky voice as her grip tightens. you smile and laugh at paiges response, leaning back into her touch after your attempt to go to the bathroom.

“you sound tired baby, do you want to go to sleep?” paige groans in response, keeping her arms wrapped around you. in truth she was a bit of a clingy girlfriend especially at the middle of night. she shakes her head before responding. "no.. im not." she mumbles through a sleepy voice as she buries her face into your neck, her warm breath brushing against your skin from the close proximity. “baby.. are you sure you definitely sound tired. your voice is definitely cute but also exhausted.” paige groans more in annoyance. she hates being called out for being tired when she's trying to fight it so she can stay in the moment. "nooo.. m'not." she mumbles once again, her grip around your middle tightens as she continues snuggling into you.

a long yawn comes out from her mouth, which she tries to stifle. “baby, i know you had a long practice today its okay.. you need rest” you speak softly to the blonde. she groans before sighing in defeat. she couldn't hide the tiredness anymore. "but I don't wanna go to sleep." she mumbles like a child. “i want to stay awake with you." you smile at her response. despite being exhausted from a busy day with practice, she only wants to be with you. some days, this time was the only time you could spent together. paige was always off at some event, or at practice, or at a game. “okay then, we can stay awake for a little longer, i just want to make sure your not going to be too cranky tomorrow” you say, basically parenting her. she had practice next afternoon, and nobody likes to deal with a cranky paige at 12 in the afternoon. "i don't get cranky." paige replied a bit defensive at the comment before yawning again. realizing she's only proving your point, she lets out a low groan before burying herself more into the crook of your neck.

you lay like that for a while. after a couple minutes you start playing with her hair, soothing the long soft blonde hair between your fingers. “what a cute sleepy baby” you say placing a kiss on the top of her head. you cant help but stare at her, eyes closed, lips slightly parted, at peace. she melts into your touch, her body going lax as she feels your fingers in her hair. she almost purrs as you keep playing with her hair, her eyes flutter close as she revels in the soothing feeling.

"mmm.. your mean.." she responds to you calling her a cute, sleepy baby. you let out a laugh. “how is that mean darling.. i love when your like this.. so cute and vulnerable, not talking back or telling me what to do” you say boldly continuing to play with her long soft strands of blonde hair as her head rested in the crook of your neck. she pouts a little, her face still hidden in the crook of your neck. she can't deny that she enjoys your praise, but she can't help but feel a little bit flustered at the same time. "im not cute and vulnerable. im tough." she retorts even when she's contradicting herself with the way she's curled up next to you and letting you pet her.

you slowly creep your hand under her shirt to rub her bare back, tracing small shapes on it “sure baby, your so tough” you say smiling as she looks so cute in you arms, lips puffy from sleep and eyes closed. the moment your hand starts to run along her lower back, over her soft skin, paige lets her breath hitch, a shiver running through her body. "mm.. don't say it like that." she whines, the tone in her voice turning needy when your hand starts to rub her back. her body pressing itself more into your touch, craving your warmth and touch. you laugh. “why not love” you let your hand explore her upper back and start to move up and down her sides, also gently tracing the side of her ribcage.

paige bites back a whimper, her eyes fluttering close as she feels your hand exploring along her back and sides. it doesn't help that her skin is extra sensitive due to her tiredness so your gentle caress is only making her feel more weak and vulnerable. she tries to maintain her grumpy exterior by mumbling.

“cause it's stupid.." you hum at her response before questioning her, “why are you making noises baby.. do you want me to stop? and no.. its not stupid. your the cutest little baby out there.. all mine forever.” you say smiling and continuing to explore the skin just above her ribcage before moving back to her back and sides, tracing up and down them.

more soft noises escape from her mouth as you continue to caress her skin so tenderly. she lets out a small shaky sigh when you call her a cute baby, a blush forming over her cheeks. its hard to stay grumpy when you're so warm and soft with her, but she still fights against your praises. "stop... im not.. a cute baby.." she mumbles, trying to hide her face further in the crook of your neck. “mmm, yes you are love.. look at you, a blushing mess in my arms..” you continue to trace her back moving to her lower back and letting your hand find her waist. paige lets out a soft moan as your hand moves back to her lower back, her body squirming against you in response to the touch.

shes slowly losing her stubborn attitude as she melts into your touch, especially as you move your hand down to her waist and are holding her tight. she can feel herself getting more and more affected by you as her tiredness begins to make her feel needy. you have never seen her like this, so submissive. "your hands.. they're making me.. feel weird." she mumbles quietly through a soft voice. her body is practically flush against you now as she seeks more of your warm touch. “i want you, can I have you baby?"

she asks in a whispery, needy tone as she lets her face move away from your neck. her eyes are half-lidded as she looks up at you, a faint blush on her cheeks and lower lip pulled in by her teeth. she looks absolutely adorable and vulnerable in this state, practically begging you to touch her more….

[animeyanderelover]

I already did this concept with Dazai in those Hc's so I will not add him in here again.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, clinginess, manipulation, blackmailing, bribing, paranoia, attempted murder in Nikolai's part, isolation, abduction, death of reader in their previous world

Tags: @shumidehiro @izanami78 @leveyani

Isekai'd into their world

Nakahara Cuuya

🟠Bullshit! That’s the initial reaction that Chuuya has when he finds out. There’s a limit to how much he is willing to believe even though throughout his life he has seen some things you’d have to witness with your own eyes to believe in them. It is true that there is nothing about your past he has been able to dig up as your life has seemingly started the moment you were discovered by an elderly couple on the streets. You’ve always claimed that you couldn’t remember anything before you where found and since there has been nothing the police was able to find out about your past, they gave up on the case as you were slowly assisted into society. Chuuya doesn’t believe your claims though that you suffer from amnesia. He might be hotheaded but he’s been working for the Port Mafia for years now, has even been made an Executive. The one skill you develop in this position is to get a fairly good read on the person in front of you, on their body language as well as on whether or not they speak the truth or not. So whilst he has no solid proof about whether you lie to him or not, there is this intuition that he has in his guts that there is something you are hiding.

🟠His overprotective and paranoid thoughts tend to spiral so his first assumption is that maybe there is someone after you and that you’re on the run. If that is the case you don’t have to worry. Chuuya can and will provide protection if someone is after your life. The longer you remain silent about your past, the more impatient he grows. Chuuya hasn’t always been honest to you either, especially regarding his position in the Port Mafia. But you needlessly fuel his anxiety as you don’t reveal anything, only feeding his paranoid thoughts as he wonders what you could hide that is so atrocious that you don’t even want your lover to know. Yet when you tell him the truth finally, sensing that he is close to snapping, he gets mad at you. Are you mocking him?! Don’t lie to him now! He doesn’t believe you. He doesn’t believe you until you see yourself forced to reveal everything you know about him. You know about Sheep, about Arahabaki, about the Port Mafia and about so much more. Only then does he believe you. The truth did not ease his worries though. No, instead Chuuya feels betrayed. Betrayed that you have known everything about him from the very beginning.

🟠He can’t hide. He can’t pretend anymore either. What’s the use? You know everything about him. With no facade to hide anything anymore Chuuya grows weirdly aggressive yet vulnerable. He doesn’t know how he should deal with this situation where he had no control over what he reveals about you and what not. It is fucking weird to know that in your world he doesn’t even exist and is instead a fictional character. What do you even think about him when he stands in front of you? Do you even see him as a real person? With really nothing to lose anymore Chuuya just abducts you then and there, unable to come up with another solution on how to handle this situation. Obviously he doesn’t tell anyone else about you though as he himself has to properly come to terms with the truth. As heavy as the feeling of betrayal sits though, there’s also desperation and paranoia. Desperation because he feels like he deserves to find out more about you as well since you already know far too much about him and paranoia now that he understands that you’ve died before in your world. You can’t be fine after all that happened, right? He’s going to help you.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

🍎Fyodor has always deemed you to be someone who stands out from the common crowd, for reasons he doesn’t understand either. Perhaps it is because your eyes perceive what others can’t see as he will never forget his first encounter with you. The glimpse of pure fear in your eyes as you gazed at him, seeing the demon disguised as a man. The way your body flinched away from his touch as he reached out to you, sensing the doom that would befall you the moment he’d feel your body. Only very few people have ever been able to realise him for the higher being that he is and it is the fact that a common sinner like you sees right through him upon first meeting him that makes you special. Fyodor tests his theory out only once by cornering you, giving you no chance to hide behind others as you are left alone with him. The sadist in him is relishing in the untarnished fear he sees in your eyes, purple orbs gazing at you as you slowly move away from him. He doesn’t follow you but he doesn’t have to. You poor thing now can’t run away from him anymore. You’ve dared to catch the devil’s interest and for that you will greatly suffer for Fyodor only knows how to take and destroy.

🍎It is when he figures out that you have no past that you only deepen his obsession. It’s intriguing. No past sins to judge you by, no trace of an existence stained in impurity before you appeared in this city. No matter how much research Fyodor does, he’s unable to figure you out. You’re a mystery to him, to a messenger of God. Oh, it is indeed a dangerous game you are playing. What could you be possibly hiding from him that is so forbidden that not even he can know? It’s like you’re trying to trigger him and it is this lack of control, the inability to cast divine judgment upon you as you are incomplete without a past to hold you accountable for that leads Fyodor to do something he normally never does. He rushes the process slightly, lures you faster into the spider’s web until you are trapped. The first thing he asks of you to confess is your past, the one thing he can’t find out about you. What are you? Are you a sinner or are you something more? No normal human should be able to deprive him of information he can always gather. The time for your confession has finally come, the day of your judgement has at last arrived. Now then you little mouse, confess.

🍎If only you would know how much you fuel his obsession the moment you are forced to reveal the truth to Fyodor. A sinner always pays with death to free them of their sins yet you have already died in your own world before you were brought to his own. You are free, or at least freer, of sins than anyone else on this planet. So before this world can ruin you once more he is going to isolate you, to shield you from the impurities of this world. After all it is the duty of an angel to bring salvation to those who are worthy. Now he also understands why you were so afraid the moment you saw him. What was the first time for him to ever meet you was after all only the first time for you officially meeting him as you had seen him multiple times before as nothing more than a fictional character in your own world. Maybe there is a scientific explanation of how it is possible for you to be transported into a world that was only fictional in your old reality but Fyodor pushes another agenda onto you. Have you ever considered it to be the will of a higher being? Have you ever considered it to be a second chance given to you? Don’t you worry too much. He will help you flourish in this world.

Jouno Saigiku

♦️​BadumBadumBadumBadum. The melody of your heart when Jouno finds you one day stranded in an alleyway is certainly a good indicator of the fear and the anxiety currently swirling around inside your mind. Be assured though, he is here to help the little wounded puppy he's found himself right now. You'll just have to tell him who you are and where you are from and he'll get you safely back. That is at least the plan, the only problem is that you refuse his help. Hmm, that is strange. You're acting a bit suspicious, you know? Your little heart is telling him that his appearance seems to have only increased whatever stress you've already felt before. Is there something you're trying to hide from him? Even though his eyes are not able to perceive you, you don't strike Jouno as someone who has done something wrong that would force him to take actions against you. Still, he interrogates you, at least until he has gotten his confirmation that you haven't done anything criminal nor plan to do so. Technically that should be enough yet your heartbeat still hasn't calmed down. He's the reason. You're afraid of him. A reaction that usually only the bad guys have when seeing him.

♦️​The Hunting Dogs are heroes even internationally, normally citizens like you rejoice when seeing him. There are still things he'd like to ask you but you actually seem to gather some courage, tell him shortly that he has no reason to keep you trapped any longer since he has gotten his comfirmation. He isn't exactly pleased with the tone you use but he lets you go, though he's still quite dissatisfied with what he has gotten. As if fate is smiling down upon him though he soon has the pleasure to meet you again. You're still as close-lipped as the first time he met you but since he has now figured out where you work he decides to make acquaintances with your co-workers who are far more talkative. He can sense you standing there in the corner, your heartbeat going crazy as they tell him that you've recently started working here and haven't told them much about your past either. So you really just keep it a secret from anyone. That only makes him more curious, you know? With his position it is relatively easy to gather intel on you though it is when he is served with little to nothing that he truly starts realising that you must carry quite the secret around.

♦️​That is the kickstart of his obsession as he wants to figure out what it is you are hiding. What is the dark secret you don't want anyone to know about? His only clue lies in you and so he torments you with his visits, constantly attempting to guess what it is you are hiding only to never figure it out. How could he have known that you died in your previous life only to be reincarnated into a world that was purely fictional in your old world? It is after the abduction that you are left with no choice but to spill out the truth and as much as he would like to ridicule you for such an otherwise blatant lie, your heart is not lying. You're actually speaking the truth. And Jouno doesn't know how to reply to that, just staring at you with a furrowed face as if considering what the best response or even best reaction is to the truth he has so desperately wanted to know for so long now. You think that you see a glimmer of unease appearing on his face before he suddenly bends down, his hands grasping your chin. Just how much do you know about him? Even though you are his beloved Saigiku has ever considered revealing too much to you yet perhaps you already know too much, leaving him strangely vulnerable.

Nikolai Gogol

🕊️​To Nikolai you have always been entertaining. He has the fondest memories of the both you meeting for the first time, a sentiment you most likely don't share with him. After all it was obvious from the very first encounter that all that you felt for him was dread even though his disguise should have been immaculate, able to fool anyone else. He hides his sinister and twisted character when he needs to do so yet you have seen right through him and it is this seemingly keen intuition of yours that has gotten him so invested in you. Nikolai has never meant for this interest of yours to stay nor to develop into a burning passion that threatens to rip him off the wings he so desperately hopes to obtain. The demon threatening to steal his soul is none other than you, his crooked feelings for you spinning and turning as Nikolai finds himself trapped between two clashing desires. One is to obtain his freedom by murdering you, another one is his desire to keep you and share his sad fate of isolation and oppression due to his own feelings with you. It is a constant inner fight and more than just once has he considered ending your puny life yet there is one factor that ultimately stops him.

🕊️​He plans to torment you, to ruin the life you have so carefully built for yourself and the freedom you have in it yet it is the little information he can gather that has him pausing. No family, no friends, no past. You are essentially like a ghost who appeared overnight. He has no past which he could use to chain you down, nothing personal he could hold against you and that knowledge that he can't properly oppress you unless he knows about it torments him and only infuriates him more as if you were indirectly mocking him. Fine, he'll cut the games short then. When you wake up the next time, it is in a little cage with a cheerful Nikolai asking you how you're doing and if you have slept well. That grin only widens and turns into somethin hideous when he sees your eyes overflowing with fear. Yes~ Let that fear corner you and tie you down. Share your suffering with his own. There is still something, you precious dove, that he really needs to know. Only then can he fully drag you down to the bottom of despair with him after all. You need to tell him a bit more about your past. Your family. Your friends. He needs them for his plans. Imagine his surprise when he sees the relief appearing on his face.

🕊️​That grin on his face disappears as he realises the truth, even if only for a short moment. It isn't the fact that you are from a different world, it isn't that you died in your previous world either that sobers him down for one or two seconds. It is the realisation that you will always be freer than he will be. There are no family, no friends, no pets he could use to play with and to break you with. There is no information he can obtain about you unless you tell him yet here you are, knowing already so much about him since he was a fictional character in your old world. Half of your wings he will never be able to clip off. For one frightening moment his hands suddenly wrap around your neck and start squeezing down with enough force to have you gasping and choking before all of a sudden he lets go, leaving you to cough for air. When he bends down he has put on that playful appearance once more, whispering to you that it's still too early for you to die. He must say, you managed to catch him off guard for a moment there but that's alright. If things are more difficult there are more entertaining after all. He will make sure to plug every single feather off of your wings until you're just as broken as him.

[reidsdimples]

“I gave your girlfriend cunnalingus on my couch”

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Smut & Fluff (if you squint) 18+❤️‍🔥

Your cheating ex gets what’s coming to him when Spencer shows you what you truly deserve.

Just a little fantasy I had based on this song

Spencer opens his front door just barely after you finish knocking. You rub your arms as you hug yourself tight, trying not to cry anymore. When you see those sympathetic doe eyes though, you feel apart and collapsed into your best friend’s arms. He was warm, solid, unwavering. He always has been.

He closes the door behind you and gently guides you to his couch. You sniffle and wipe your tears. You’d been here before. Somehow you always end up in Spencer’s arms after your boyfriend cheats on you.

Even though you and Spencer no longer work together, the two of you have always been close. So when you took a new job in a different department, it didn’t affect your friendship.

“What happened?” He asks gently. He sits a mug of warm coffee on the table in front of you. Of course it was sweetened to your liking.

“Got off of work early, they were in my bed,” you seethe.

“Same girl?” He stares through you, his anger clear in the flexing of his perfect jaw.

“Nope,” you sigh. “I kicked him out. I don’t care anymore. He better be gone by morning,” you shake your head.

“So you wanna crash here?” He grins and nudges your arm playfully.

“Please,” you pucker your lip. His eyes linger on your mouth for a moment then he stands.

“You are always welcome,” he retrieves his phone which pinged with a text. He’s leaning on his counter casually with his long legs crossed at the ankles, looking unreal in a hoodie and pajama pants.

You and Spencer had never gone there. But you had thought about it… a lot. Now, sitting on his couch, heartbroken again, you find yourself wanting him closer than ever.

Your phone finds.

Leon

You ignore it, a fowl taste in your mouth. He calls again which becomes Spencer over with a pillow and a blanket.

Leon: come on babe, we both know you’ll get over it. Just come home

You scowl at the screen and drop your phone on his coffee table.

“I can’t believe I’ve put up with his shit for two years. Every time I say I’m done, I take him back,” you drop your head into your hands.

“I know you don’t like it when I profile you…” he starts.

“Give it to me doctor,” you tell him. No way you could feel worse.

“He’s carefully worn you down slowly. He has destroyed your self esteem and made you subconsciously believe you’re worth nothing better than him. He relishes in the power he’s taken from you. You crave intimacy and fear being alone so you take him back, you can’t help it,” he takes the seat next to you. The couch dips slightly.

You know he’s right, he’s always right.

“How do I… not do that,” you’re feeling vulnerable.

“Prove to yourself that you can do better,” he pushes and gently grips your hand.

You scoff in a disbelieving ‘yeah right’ manner and turn look away from him. You can’t bear his intense stare at the moment.

“I’m serious… you…” he pauses on a groan as if he’s fighting not to say something. His thumb brushes over your skin gently, sending chills up your arm.

“What?” You urge him.

“You are gorgeous, and powerful. You own a room when you walk into it and somehow you have no idea that all eyes are on you. You have the ability to drive a man to his knees but you keep letting Leon bring you to yours,” he shakes his head. Anger has crept into Spencer’s demeanor. “It’s not fair.”

“Fair?” You ask because his words have rendered you nearly speechless. He his squeezes your gently, he look away and looks back into your eyes.

“It’s not fair that he’s treating you this way. If I had the chance, I’d worship you.”

You’re pretty sure your jaw is on the floor. Spencer… Spencer Reid didn’t say those things, Spencer didn’t fantasize about you the way you do him. It’s impossible.

Your sheer lack of give a shit about anything spurs you to grip the collar of his hoodie and pull him towards you. He collapses to his knees before you and stares up into your eyes. He’s torn between astonishment and amusement.

“Worship me how?” You tease him.

He grins, his tongue darts out to moisten his bottom lip. His strong hands rest on your thighs and squeeze. You inhale a sharp breath.

“It doesn’t even have to mean anything. But you need to know that you can do better,” he implores and situates himself between your still clothed legs.

“And you’re the better I’m assuming?” You poke his nose and lean back on the couch. You lift your hips when he locks his fingers in your waistband and tugs. You silently follow his lead.

“I’ll let you be the judge of that,” he gently kisses your ankle as he tosses your jeans on the ground.

He props that same ankle on his shoulder and begins kissing up your leg. You want to tell him he’s the better man in every way, that he always has been.

But his fingers are fire against your skin, his lips soft and teasing as he plants soft kisses on your thighs.

Your phone rings again. Spencer looks up and laughs a breathless sort of laugh against your skin.

A text comes through and you look at it lazily while you play in Spencer’s hair. His fingers dig massage your thighs as he starts to nip at your soft skin.

Leon: where are you?

You smirk as an idea flies to you, one that would exact the perfect revenge. You place your hand on the crown of Spencer’s head and snap a photo from your point of view.

He laughs when you show him the picture. His identify is concealed and Leon doesn’t know Spencer. You send the photo of the “mystery man” between your legs to your cheating ass boyfriend. You finally toss your phone away, eager to focus on said man.

“Are you using me?” He tutts and tugs on your lace panties with his teeth. His breath fans across your pussy and causes goosebumps to trail up your skin and harden your nipples.

“Is that okay?” You playfully pucker out your bottom lip and bat your eyelashes.

“Mhmm,” he answers mindlessly because he’s tugging your underwear aside.

He gets a glimpse of you and you’re perfect and he’s amazed. He kisses your pussy lips softly, eliciting a soft moan. You want more of him, you need more friction.

You put your other leg on his opposite shoulder and pull him closer. That’s all the prompting he needs. He holds your underwear out of the way completely and dives into you as you open up for him.

Spencer’s lips are warm, his strong tongue pushing and prodding against your most sensitive areas. Your clit is given special attention but he notes how much you enjoy his tongue inside of you.

“Spencer,” you cry.

He holds girls your thighs and laps at you like a man starved.

“So perfect, angel,” he praises and slips his tongue back into your entrance.

He drags it upward and flicks it against your clit causing you to twitch.

“Mmm right there,” you beg and push his head closer.

He obeys and keeps his pace steady and unrelenting against your clit. You inhale deeply as your climax builds and you don’t remember the last time you’ve felt so wanted, felt so good.

He moans into your cunt when you start to greedily grind against his face. He masters the pace you need and tilts you right over the edge. Your orgasm seizes you all at once and your legs shake. He eats you through it and your eyes roll back in your head.

“Oh god,” you shudder.

He looks up at you as though asking if he did good and wipes his mouth.

“Woah,” you pant.

He grins and you pull him up to kiss him. You had never kissed Spencer before but doing so felt so … right. He leans against you and cradles you softly, his hands on either side of your face as though he needs to keep you close.

Your lips slot against each others perfectly as if in tune to one another already. You savor the taste of him and how it mixes with your arousal already on his tongue.

Somehow you both moan into the kiss at the same time. It prompts a small laugh from the two of you and he rests his forehead against yours. He’s still leaning between your legs, well, more like lazily resting there as though beyond content.

You hear your phone buzzing and you think it must have been the whole time.

You scoff.

“For the record, Spencer, you’ve always been the better man. I just never would have thought you’d be interested,” you admit. He furrows his brow and moves up to set beside you. He faces you with his legs crossed.

You note his messy hair, crooked collar, and doe eyes which give him a boyish kind of charm.

“You’re so far out of my league that I never pursued you,” his voice notes the irony of the situation. “You don’t have to choose me. Or anyone. Ever. I just want you to be happy,” he says honestly.

Your phone vibrates again. Spencer stares at it and hands it to you.

6 Missed Calls

8 Texts Messages

4 Voicemails

“Thank you,” you smirk. “Right now I want to get over this asshole and spend time with you. In equal measure.”

“We can do that.” He leans back in the couch and you crawl against him.

You play the most recent voicemail which is just Leon blubbering and sobbing about “how could you do this to me” despite him cheating for your entire relationship.

You and Spencer get a good laugh out of Leon misery and then he reaches for a book.

“Read to me?” You sigh contently.

He does, until you fall asleep peacefully in his arms.

[candiid-caniine]

what's your edgeslut level?

✨ Level 1: drippy baby - you edge for awhile each time you want to cum~ you watch your usual porn. it feels so good! maybe it's getting a little longer each time? there's just no way you could go overnight! unless...

✨ Level 2: perverted prince/ss - you like how needy you're starting to get 💕 your taste in porn is getting a little more degrading...anytime you think about it during the day, your clit/dick starts throbbing. just one more day, and then you'll cum. probably...

✨ Level 3: depraved darling - you're starting to crave...permission 💗 you're edging to edging porn now, scrolling through denial tumblr. you've found yourself trying to look dumb and sexy when you edge, spreading your legs more, maybe sticking your tongue out. you've even submitted a few anon asks or texted your partner begging permission to cum. sometimes you cum anyway, other times you wait. it feels good to get permission, but it's scary: sometimes it feels better to be told no...

✨ Level 4: gooning goner - you don't know if you want permission anymore 💋 it's been weeks now. are you even still keeping count? you're edging to porn of other people cumming. your holes/dick are constantly leaking, and it's getting too easy to start with "just one edge" and wake up to find hours have gone by. when you cum or ruin without permission, you start begging to be punished. mantras are constantly running through your head, even when you're not edging: good toys don't cum. wetter is better.

✨ Level 5: needy numbskull - you've lost the ability to cum without permission~ you're edging to recordings of people being degraded and punished. you feel so vulnerable and impressionable all the time; it makes you scared even as it makes you feel aroused. it's hard to think even when you're not edging. the mantras in your head are starting to change: my orgasms don't belong to me. i'm more useful when i'm denied.

✨ Level 6: addicted doll - you stop thinking about cumming at all; you stop thinking about whether you should worry about how dumb you're starting to get. you strip naked and kneel every time you edge, tongue out and drooling, feeling only vague embarrassment. you edge to porn of yourself being punished for ruining without permission, or being forced to ruin. there are still certain things you won't do, even for the chance to cum, but you debase yourself almost voluntarily for your betters now🧡

✨ Level 7: useful idiot - you sneak away to edge at work/school 💖 you don't even need porn to edge now. you don't even need to think about it, or to be told to do it - you just do. you only beg to cum in order to humiliate yourself further for your betters, to give them pleasure in saying "no." you don't want it anymore, hell, you don't want to do anything but please them. you'll hump the air for their amusement, you'll lick their cum off the floor, you'll let them punish your cunt/dick for even thinking it deserves to cum. the mantra's changed again, your final form: pathetic sluts don't deserve to cum. pets like me are made to be needy. if the thought of cumming even crosses your mind, you run to your betters and beg to be punished until it goes away. who needs a chastity belt? you've broken yourself all on your own 💋💕💗💖💓💘

[captioning or tagging this post with my DNI/hard limits will get you blocked. i need to keep my notes safe for me 💕]