sleepdenim9

[capetowncapers]

Part of me really doesn’t know if I’ll ever go back to school after my MA and try for my doctorate, because with undiagnosed bullshit and burnout, I don’t know how realistically I could manage a PhD program, and I know the academic hiring market is kind of shit.

But on the other hand…. Part of that is why I would like to go into academia. I don’t know what the fuck is up with my symptoms, but I do also know that things like ADHD and PMDD have been a struggle for me (especially before I was diagnosed) and I know of so many disabled and chronically ill students who are so bright and creative and intelligent but struggle because they’re in a system that (like so many of our institutions) is not built for disabled people.

I don’t think it would be easy to rework those things or that I as one person could fix higher education as a whole… but if I ever become a professor, I want so badly to work to make my courses and grading system flexible and accessible in a way that lets different students with varying needs thrive. I spent too much of my undergraduate career floundering because I didn’t know how to ask for help, and even as someone who has disability accommodations in my masters program, I know there are plenty of concerns about how available accommodations fall short. Disabled and chronically ill students shouldn’t have to do so much extra work educating others and fighting to be accommodated when it takes so much for them to just get by some days.

I’m just rambling and thinking out loud, but if I get to a place in my life where a phd and/or a position at a university seem like reasonable, concrete goals… I really really hope I can be an advocate for my students and give them an environment that lets them thrive and learn. I think so often of the faculty members who were real allies to me when I was struggling, and I don’t think I would’ve made it through my BA without them. I hope if i ever become a professor, I can be that sort of person for students.

[spencerreidenjoyer]

please, please, please | spencer reid x reader

wc: 2.8k, rating: explicit/18+

tags/warnings: office sex, professor!spencer/student!fem!reader, age gap (20 years?), rough sex, blowjobs, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, title kink (being called sir), questionable relationship, dubious consent (they both want it but again it’s teacher/student so…)

a/n: read too many professor!spencer fics and decided i had to throw my hat in the ring. i feel crazy and i need him desperately. pls go crazy with me too. (ao3 link here!)

It doesn’t take an FBI profiler to notice how Dr. Spencer Reid fails to hide the way he stares at you in his lectures, his eyes always lingering on you even when he’s addressing the entire classroom. 

Maybe you’re just sensitive to his gaze, because he’s an extremely intelligent man whose attention you’re more than happy to have on you, given the fact that he is insanely attractive.

Maybe you’re just as attracted to him as he seems to be with you, because you absolutely preen at the attention Dr. Reid gives you in class, words of praise over your ideas often free-flowing from his lips.

Maybe because you know how hot you are, you shouldn’t have come into Dr. Reid’s office in a low-cut top and a short plaid skirt asking to discuss your final essay in his Criminal Psychology class. 

Both you and Dr. Reid know you’re more than capable of acing this paper, your in-class ideas clearly brilliant enough to impress Dr. Reid himself. And yet, you’re in his office, seemingly worried about how to get your thoughts across on paper. 

It doesn’t take an FBI profiler to notice how you’re positively bluffing, a little too eloquent to sound truly uncertain of yourself in your work for Dr. Reid’s class.

It doesn’t take an FBI profiler to notice the way Dr. Reid is staring at your tits in your top, eyes only flicking back up to your face when he realises he should be looking at you while you speak instead of at your… assets.

“Sir, did you catch what I just said?” You prod, very aware he most definitely did not hear you. You note how his eyes widen when you call him sir. 

“Um– Well, I–” Dr. Reid starts, but it’s no use. 

You stand up, putting your hands on the desk as you sigh, “Dr. Reid, I’m sorry if I’m boring you with my thought process.”

Your arms frame your tits just right, and you catch the way Dr. Reid’s eyes inevitably flit down to your cleavage. It’s so obvious when he looks back up at you, and you see his face redden. You quirk an eyebrow at him as a challenge of sorts, and he looks somewhat apologetic. 

Dr. Reid clears his throat. He avoids your eyes for a moment, as he moves to take off his blazer. “I apologise. I’m just… distracted at the moment.”

“I wonder why that is,” you hum, twirling a piece of your hair with your index finger, like you’re deep in thought. Then, like the already-obvious answer just hits you, you add, with a pout: “Oh! Do I distract you, sir?” 

“What are you doing?” Dr. Reid asks, and you can hear the way he’s trying to keep his voice steady, calm.

“I don’t know, sir,” you shrug. “Maybe you should share your thoughts with me.”

Dr. Reid blinks at you, takes the sight of you in. “Well, you’re giving me a hard time right about now.”

“Why?” You cock your head to the side. He closes his eyes and breathes in deep, just for a moment. 

Your professor’s tone biting, he answers candidly, “Your revealing clothing choice makes it difficult for me to focus. I didn’t expect you to dress like a slut when you were coming into my office for a simple consultation.”

Your sharp inhale is audible in the pindrop-silent room. Dr. Reid meets your eyes. He pauses for a moment, and you watch his tongue dart out to wet his lips. His eyes are dark. With a flick of his finger, he says, “Come here.”

You think of leaning over the desk just to fuck with him even more, but Dr. Reid looks so serious you think you might be in actual trouble. You scurry over to his side of the desk, standing next to him. He turns his chair towards you, and you can see the bulge in your professor’s pants. He’s big.

“You want this?” Dr. Reid says gently. It’s a loaded question. 

Pulling your lower lip between your teeth, you nod. “Yes, sir. I want you.”

“Good. Then get on your knees.” It’s a command, in a deep voice you’ve never heard from Dr. Reid in the past three months in his lectures. You hope your knees won’t bruise from the way you fall to them in a heartbeat.

“I didn’t think you would be such a slut.” Dr. Reid smirks, and it makes a shiver run down your spine. His hand reaches towards you, cups your cheek. He slaps your cheek gently, but the suddenness makes you gasp. “Fuck, you drive me crazy in class, but now I have you like this? I must have done something amazing in a past life to have you on your knees for me now.”

“Sir,” you exhale shakily. His touch is soft, his thumb stroking your cheek with a surprising sweetness. 

“Let’s put that mouth to good use, hmm?” Dr. Reid says, his tone warm, syrupy sweet. He reaches for his belt, the metal clink as he undoes it making heat quickly pool between your legs. The belt gets tossed aside and he unzips his fly, pulling his half-hard cock out. You watch as his large hand wraps around himself, as he strokes his cock absentmindedly. His eyes are only on you. Your body flushes hot with arousal.

Dr. Reid beckons you closer with a finger. You look up at him, and you take his cock in your hand. His eyes tell you everything you need to know. You lean forward to take him into your mouth. You wrap your lips around the head of his cock softly, the warmth of your mouth probably feeling like heaven as Dr. Reid moans quietly as you do. You swirl your tongue over his tip, tasting the saltiness of his precome.

His hand comes up to the back of your head as he watches you suck his cock. You’re kitten-licking at his tip, which doesn’t seem like enough for him. Dr. Reid pushes your head down on his cock, forcing you to take more of him into your mouth. He’s big, so the sudden fullness of your mouth coupled with the way he hits the back of your throat makes you choke slightly. You glance up at him. He’s smirking. 

“I’m sure you know how to suck cock, don’t you? Like this, sweetheart.” His tone is close to condescending, as the fist in your hair drags your head up and down on his cock. While it’s not like you don’t know how to please a man, Dr. Reid treating you this way makes you swoon – his teacherly mannerisms turning you on impossibly. 

You gag as Dr. Reid fucks your face down onto his cock, his groans mixing with your wet, choked noises. He clearly seems to enjoy this, using you how he pleases, uncaring of your own arousal. It’s so hot you feel like you might explode. You hope you’ll get more out of this than just sucking your professor off, because if he doesn’t reciprocate you might have half a mind to report him for unprofessional conduct.

But Dr. Reid is moaning into his fist, eyebrows furrowed as you blow him, and you’ve always wanted to please your professor; be it in class or right in this moment.

You reach up to grab Dr. Reid by his wrist, tapping his arm to get his attention. His eyelids flutter open, revealing his gorgeously deep brown eyes. He looks at you, slightly concerned. “What’s the matter?”

You swallow hard. “Sir, I– Will you fuck me? Please? I want- I want to feel you inside.”

Dr. Reid closes his eyes for a moment, breathes through his nose. “Holy fucking shit,” He murmurs to himself, before he says, louder, “Okay. Yes. Fuck, you’re so sexy.”

You don’t get up from your knees, not just yet. You look up at him, hands in your lap, waiting for him to tell you what to do. You smirk up at him. Dr. Reid sighs, rubbing his face with his hand, and says, “You little minx. Get up on my desk.”

He extends a hand to help you up, your legs shaky from being on your knees. You look behind you to figure out how to get yourself onto the desk, but Dr. Reid is also on his feet now, and he hoists you up onto the desk, easily getting between your spread legs. You steady yourself by placing your hands out behind you, and shudder when Dr. Reid’s big, warm hands grab at your thighs. He squeezes at the flesh, before one hand comes down to your clothed pussy. He swipes his thumb over your clit, over your hole, and he tuts. “You’re so wet already. You must be desperate.”

You shudder. Dr. Reid’s touch is not enough to feel good, as he barely teases you over your panties. “You should do something about it, Professor.”

“I will,” he says. Dr. Reid exhales, looking down between where your bodies are pressed close, his hard cock pressed against your cunt. “Look at what you’ve done to me. You’ve ruined me.”

“Sir,” you say sultrily. “You should fuck me now.”

“I will,” he repeats, his hand on your hip. He looks you up and down, and then Dr. Reid’s hand is sliding across your thigh, his fingers slipping up the hem of your skirt. You feel calloused thumbs teasing at the waistband of your panties, feel them dip past the elastic to pull them down. 

Cool air hits your cunt, as Dr. Reid slides your panties off your legs. He’s looking down at you, between your legs, clearly enjoying the view. You clear your throat, and he looks up at you, almost sheepish. He says, his voice cracking slightly, “You’re gorgeous.”

You smile. “You’re not so bad yourself, Dr. Reid.”

“Yeah?” He laughs. “I’m glad you think so.”

As you talk, Dr. Reid has mindlessly started to rut his cock along your leaking cunt, your steadily-flowing slick making the slide easy. It’s so good, even just the friction of your professor frotting against you. You hold back a moan, looking up into Dr. Reid’s eyes.

“Sir– Oh, fuck,” you moan, as his cock slips inside of you with the way he grinds against you, your hole letting him in too easily. You’re so wet that he’d just slipped in. The feeling stuns you both, wet heat around Dr. Reid’s cock. He’s still rocking his hips back and forth, which pulls him out of you and pushes him back in. The head of his cock pushes back into you, and you both moan. You cry, “More, Dr. Reid.”

Dr. Reid steadies himself as he starts to fuck you, the movement of his hips shifting as he thrusts into you proper. There’s a practised ease in his thrusts, confident as he takes you on his desk. Your head falls forward, hair in your face, as your body takes in the feeling of your professor’s cock buried inside of you.

“You feel so good,” Dr. Reid grunts, his cock fucking in and out of you. He’s filling you up just the way you need it, his thickness stretching you out so deliciously. You clench around him at the praise, and his hips stutter. “So tight for me, sweetheart.”

And then, you can’t explain what you do next. You can’t help yourself, as you wrap your arms around him and bury your face into his neck, smelling his musky perfume and sweat. You whimper. You feel so good you don’t know what else to do with your body, but Dr. Reid doesn’t push you away. One of his arms wraps around your waist, his hand on the small of your back feeling so warm through your thin top, even though you’re feeling so hot you could explode. 

You feel yourself being pushed onto your back onto the heavy wooden desk, Dr. Reid’s weight pressing down on you. Like this, you feel his cock press inside of you impossibly deeper, and it’s so good you feel like screaming – you don’t, obviously you can’t, but you muffle a moan into his shoulder instead.

“Such a good girl,” Dr. Reid murmurs softly, his cock punching deep inside of you. Each of his thrusts sends electric pleasure up your spine, through your nerves, and you’re tearing up from how good this feels. “Fuck, I wish I could hear you scream for me.”

You whimper, a broken cry pressed against his neck. “Dr. Reid–”

“Oh, I know, sweetheart,” Dr. Reid coos softly. “You’re doing so good, keeping it down for me. So good for me.”

You don’t like feeling so pathetic, but Dr. Reid makes you feel safe even while you’re vulnerable, while he’s fucking you on his office desk. You sob, “Dr. Reid, it’s too good– I’m gonna cum, I– please–”

“Come on,” he grunts, his voice laboured as he pants. “Cum for me, my darling.”

Your gasp is louder than you’d like it to be, in a professor’s office of all places, but you feel too good to remember to keep it down. You shudder through your orgasm, unable to control the way your body reacts to all the pleasure given to you. 

“Fuck,” Dr. Reid blurts, his cock sliding out of you faster than you expect. You whine, but Dr. Reid is cumming all over your cunt, thick, hot spurts all over already-slick skin. “Oh, shit. Fuck.”

You’re thankful Dr. Reid didn’t cum inside, only because he didn’t have a condom on. You feel like a mess, but Dr. Reid’s looking at you like you’re a goddess. You feel his softening cock resting on your thigh. You want to go again, to feel him inside of you again, but perhaps that’s too desperate. 

When his head is clear, Dr. Reid is quick to step back, reaching into the desk drawer. 

“Sorry, let me just–” The commandeering, dominant Dr. Reid you just met is now gone, back to his slightly silly, bumbling self. He takes two wipes out from the packet of wet wipes he had pulled out from the drawer in his haste, but his hands are gentle when he wipes you clean. His touch is soft, sweet, and you feel so special in his hands. “I’m sorry I made a mess of you.”

You chuckle. “Dr. Reid, I’m more than okay with it. I think it comes with the territory.”

He smiles, albeit a little awkwardly. “Yeah, you’re right. I just don’t do this often, I suppose.”

“Oh, please. As if you don’t have other students throwing themselves at you too, Dr. Reid,” you laugh, waving him off.

“I do, but I’ve never done anything with them. Even if they try to proposition me, I tell them to leave my office. I’ve only… It’s just you.”

You’re stunned for a moment, blinking up at him. “You… Seriously?”

He frowns slightly. “Does it seem like I sleep around with my students often?”

“No! No, I just– I didn’t expect that. I thought you would be more… experienced? Considering how readily you let me… seduce you. I guess.”

“You’re definitely convincing,” Dr. Reid smiles. “Besides, I think you’re really special. I’ve never had a student like you.”

“Oh,” you say, because what else can you say in this scenario? Should you say anything else? It’s starting to hit you now, the implications of what you’ve just done walking into your professor’s office like this. “That’s… flattering.”

He tilts his head, brows furrowing. “Your pause seems to imply you don’t really mean that.”

“Oh, no, Dr. Reid, not at all, I–” You shake your head. “I’m really flattered that you think I’m special, I just– I’m not sure how I can navigate this. We’ve had sex, and it’s really hitting me now that I should not have seduced my professor because that’s definitely a violation of conduct, and–”

“Hey, relax,” Dr. Reid says, putting his hand on your shoulder. You breathe in deep. Dr. Reid looks at you warmly, and says, “I know we probably shouldn’t have done this, but I couldn’t resist you. And besides, it’s already done. We’re close to the end of the semester anyways. If you– I– If you want to continue this… outside of campus, I’d be more than happy to.”

“Dr. Reid,” you gasp, shocked that your professor would even be interested enough in you to suggest something like that. A relationship, outside of class? Or whatever it is he was thinking of. Frankly, even if Dr. Reid wants to meet once a month just to fuck, you’d take whatever you could get, especially with a man as gorgeous as him.

“Call me Spencer. Please,” he smiles. “Outside of class, at least.”

You grin. “Okay, Spencer.”

[igotanidea]

Dress rehearsal: Jason Todd x reader

Summary/request: @ladychibirae and @animegirlfromvietnam decided to not let me function normally requesting Jason being a witness to his fiance triyng on wedding dresses. And then those two just went on, making Jason all flustered, generous and horny at the same time. So - here's that XD

Spicy, but not explicit ;)

****

It was all so … white.

Like a freaking hospital.

And it made him flinch, involuntarily diving back into the stream of bad memories involving injuries, hurt, pain and –

“Look at all those dresses!”

Oh, right, back to reality.

No pain, no fear, just the incoming future.

With Y/N.

His wonderful, beautiful, perfect Y/N.

His future bride. His future wife.

But even the sweetness of her presence and the smile forming on her face couldn’t have bellied the overwhelming feeling of being – well - overwhelmed. He was just supposed to drop off Y/N, Kori and Babs and the boutique and excuse himself under any false pretense he could produce and the rattling and pipsqueak and three girls making a commotion worth six or so people only fueled that resolve.

And then Y/N picked some random dress, putting it to herself and giving him a look, with a silent question what was he thinking and suddenly his plans did a full 180.

Like hell he was going anywhere.

He was going to watch his fiancée change and dress up and give a little show of the whole parade of wedding dresses, enjoying it deeply, though not admitting openly.

“What’s with your face?” Y/N teased, reading right through him. “ thought you were supposed to meet Dick for your boys’ stuff?”

“Really? Was I? Can’t remember. I’d rather stay here. Make sure you don’t get locked up here after hours.”

“Well if that’s your only concern-“

“Y/N, come on, really?” Babs chimed in “He shouldn’t be here, it’s against the tradition for the groom to see the bride before the wedding.”

“Well the tradition doesn’t mention anything about seeing each other a few months before the wedding, does it?”

“It’s –“

“Don’t say it.” Jason cut her off, probably harsher than it was necessary. It was Barbara after all, but he was slowly losing patience. No one was going to keep him away from his girl. Not Barbara, not Kori, no silly beliefs and certainly not some outdated tradition.

“I think you should listen to Barbara.” Obviously Kori had to add her three cents. “Though I find your earthly customs amusing.”

“I’m staying.” Jason repeated sternly

“He’s staying.” Y/N echoed at the same time. “I want him here. Luck or not, he’s my fiancé. The rest can go to hell.”

Barbara and Kori looked at her with a little bit of surprise. This definitely was not the standard behavior of their friend, but clearly Jason brought some dominant instincts in her. If her changing was going to be kept in such pace, the second after the wedding she would turn into a full-blown Red hood’s girl. Maybe even running the streets, shooting and beating the shit out of people alongside him without a care in the world.

Jason though had a look of pure admiration on his face. Of course she wanted him here. Of course the rest could go to hell. If anyone had the right to see her picking a dress, it was him.

Conceitedly and ostentatiously he took a spot on the sofa, leaning back on the soft furniture like he owned the place and almost daring Kori and Babs to oppose his presence.

“Shall we begin then?” Y/N grabbed a dress from the hanger, twirling around in the cloud of lace and satin, disappearing in the changing room.

***

Three dresses later, he had to deal not only with Babs and Kori but also with five more people. Somehow (it might have had something to do with Kori sending group messages of photos of Y/N) the rest of the batkids decided to join the fun.

Therefore, instead of being left alone with the love of his life, Jason found himself squeezed on the couch, between Dick and Stephanie, who just happened to be around. Forced to listen to the sighs of delight and exclamations of Cass and nodding of approval of Tim.

Fucking approval!

That freaking bunch though they could just comment on how his Y/N looked. That they were allowed to watch her spin and twirl and watch herself in the mirror, tilting head in that way, see her smile when she liked something or frown when she did not.

Bastards.

He was the only one allowed here and was hanging on the edge of the seat to just tell them all to piss off and throw them on the street.

He did not.

Mostly because every time she walked out, clad in another white outfit all the mean, harsh words intended at his sibling were stuck in the back of his throat and he was turning into a mewling-inside-little-cat-who-just-wanted-to-be-around-its-owner.

Y/N.

Standing in the middle of the boutique clad in the simple yet elegant wedding dress, accentuating all her curves and making her look like a princess. Literally. All she was missing was some sort of crown on her head, but Jason was going to make sure she would wear one during their entire life together. For she was going to be not only a princess, but his queen.

And he was speechless.

So quiet and unable to say any teasing comment or snarky remark it was slowly becoming suspicious.

“Um… Jace?” her voice reached his ears as if through a fog.

“Huh?” he was immediately thrown out from his reverie. “That’s my name, yeah.”

Everyone looked at him like he just grew a third arm (though in this family this probably wouldn’t be that shocking after all.)

“Are you okay?’ Dick asked with a smirk

“I’m fine!”

“You are quiet.” Stephanie slurped on her slushie, loudly and annoyingly.

“What a bright observation” he mocked.

“Aaaaaand he’s back.”

“Piss off!”

“Y/N asked you a question!”

“I know! I heard!”

“She had to call your names three times before you reacted!”

“Maybe I just like her saying my name!”

“You are blushing!”

“I am not blushing!”

“Enough!”

Y/N finally stepped in, deciding to cut off this family bantering and save Jason, thrown at the mercy of the wolves of his siblings. Of course they used the very rare moment of his sensitivity showing to tease him mercilessly and her poor fiancé did not deserve it.

“Oh, saved by the bell.” Damian smirked “if she will have to step up for you during your whole marriage then- OUCH!”

“I said enough. That includes you, Damian.” Perfectly aimed, though not that strong slap on the head made the youngest of the Wayne shut up. “Everyone out.”

“What?!”

“Y/n!”

“Come on, don’t be like that! You still got some dresses to try on!”

“I said: out. All of you. Now.”

With whines and groans of disappointment everyone moved to the exit.

Everyone, including Jason.

Y/N cleared her throat.

He turned around, looking at her questioningly.

“Not you.”

“No?”

“No. Of course not, you idiot. In case you missed something, you are the only person I wanted here from the start.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t be shy with me now. Better tell me how you like this dress.”  She turned towards the mirror, looking at her reflection and playing with the layers of lace on the outfit.

“I think it would look better if-“

“Don’t finish that sentence!”

“You asked for my opinion!”

“Exactly! Opinion! Not your dirty thoughts and sinful desires.”

“Those are very strong words you are using here, sunshine…” he muttered, stepping behind her, wrapping arms on her waist and kissing the back of her neck “but you are not wrong…” one hand slipped to the zipper of her dress.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m not going to buy it either way…”

“What? Why? You look so pretty in it!”

“Got your answer.” She teased, revealing how she played him.

“ha-ha! Very funny princess. Why don’t you want to buy it?” his grip on her hips tightened a little. “Look at us, look how we fit…” his chin rested on her shoulder as they watched themselves in the reflection.

“We do…” her voice was a soft whisper of affection and amusement, eyes flicked with love and hope for the future. “We do…” she snuggled a little further in his embrace, hoping for the love of god that he would not take it as an invitation and get any ideas.”

“Don’t you like the dress?” he asked softly, rubbing her sides affectionately.

“I do. But it’s expensive—”

“Wait. What? That’s your reasoning of let’s-not-buy-it? Really? Here.” He reached into his pocket, handing her his credit card. “Take this one. And that ivory one, I liked how it brought out your eyes. And you can also take something for the wedding reception. And preferably a little something for the wedding night?” he winked.

“I believe we’re in the wrong shop for the last one-“

“Then we’ll go to the right shop.”

“But Jason-“

“Don’t Jason me. Money is not the problem. In fact – keep my card.”

“What?”

“Shut up and take my money.”

“Jason!”

“Hm?”

“You’re impossible.”

“Better get used to it, sunshine. I intend to keep you amused for the rest of our lives.”

“That would indicate you are not planning to leave me at the altar.”

“Leave you? Never. No promises on letting you walk the aisle though. Cause I might just snatch you away from everyone and make sure that pretty dress you are buying ends up on the floor before even exchanging out vows…”

“I’m starting to regret casting your family out. At least you were behaving with them around.”

“But still – you like when I misbehave…”

His hands sneaked under the dress, traveling up her leg, spinning her around so she was now facing him, fingers inching higher and higher on the inside of her thigh-

“Jason…”

“hmmmm…”

“Are you really going to-?”

“I would love nothing more.” He whispered in her ear, getting bolder by a second. Having her in her wedding dress, then and there was doing so many things to him.

“Just so you know, I only got one dress like that! Limited edition! If you ruin it now, there’s no chance for you to wear the same on the wedding day!”

The saleswoman’s voice cut right into their ragged breaths and quickened heartbeats making them jump away from each other immediately.

“Wanna buy this and go home?” he smirked.

‘For what? Dress rehearsal?”

“Mh! You make me fall in love with you all over again.” His smirk grew wider.

It took them literally three minutes to buy the dress and rush home. And for the purposes of that night, there was no need for any clothes shopping.

[inkdrinkerworld]

Stitches, Films and Sponges Baths?

Cw: fluff, shy!team doctor!reader, Dick being a flirty shit

“Nightwing B-01, injured.” Calls the electronic voice through the comms and you get moving immediately.

“How bad is it?” You ask as you snap gloves on and reach for your kit.

“Bad enough that I’ll miss seeing your concentrated face, angel.” Dick flirts and you suck at your teeth.

The moment he comes into view, you realise that as much as he flirts he hadn’t been lying.

He’s cut under his eye, there’s another on his bicep and a tear in the side of his suit.

“Who did you lose a fight to?” That gets him to open his eyes and he spots a slight frown on your lips.

“I didn’t lose, I’m just a little more cut up than you’re used to seeing me.” You clean up his face first and your frown smooths out when you realise it's more blood than wound.

“This one isn’t too bad, maybe a butterfly stitch if you really want one. It should close within the day.”

Dick reaches for your gloved hand, “Put the stitch please, angel? Don’t want you having to stare at that cut every time you look at me;” he smiles and as if he’s reconsidered his statement he adds. “Unless it makes me look rugged and even hotter.”

Your body flushes, heat rushing through you and you nibble on your lip as you set the stitch on his cheekbone.

“You look fine, can you open your eyes now?”

He does, “Missed seeing them, did you?”

“Dick,” it’s only a warning, but he likes when you say his name so it’s one he elects to ignore- on the basis of the fact that if he does, you’re going to fluster even more. And he likes that even more.

“Your bicep isn’t too bad, just a scratch really. I’m more worried about your side, so I’m going to look at that first.”

His arms reach up for you to undress him and Dick bites his tongue to keep his smile at bay when your eyes widen and your fingers drag up his stomach as you lift off the top of his suit.

You wonder if he can tell that your pulse is rioting now?

He’s always been pretty, flirty and overly friendly to you and you’ve never known where to put all that.

Dick is gorgeous, he’s been gorgeous from the moment you’d been recruited here from the Bat, but he’s also never been by himself since you’ve been here- a little bit of a relationship man and while you’d love to pursue that, you don’t know if your poor heart will handle his flirty unleashed.

“It’s not so bad, just a little jagged so the stitching is going to hurt a bit. I’m sorry.”

Dick tuts, his heart clenching at how considerate you are- then he wonders if that’s just your bedside manner.

“No need for that, I can take a little pain.”

You nod, and get started with your needles and thread, closing up Dick’s wound with a steady hand.

“These are dissolvable, but they can still rip if you aren’t careful so you’re on bed rest until they dissolve.”

“How long will that take, angel? Trying to plan how many days I have with you.”

You clench your jaw to stop your smile, but Dick takes note of the way that your eyebrows jump and your eyes crinkle with little crow’s feet.

“A week or two for the most, but you can’t go around training like usual until they dissolve.”

He nods, “So what do you say to movie nights and reading challenges all week?”

You do let yourself smile then, Dick’s proposed things you like that he doesn’t necessarily find that mind blowing.

“And what will you do?” You ask, a vote of confidence to play along with his tease.

“Probably work on some tech stuff, but we’ll at least be together so you can have all the time in the world just staring at me till you’re ready to make a move.”

You grumble and scrub your face making Dick chuckle.

“That was mean, I’m sorry angel.” He coos and you look up to find him still smirking.

“Mhm, I totally believe you,” you finish his stitch and cover it with a piece of gauze and medical tape. “I don’t think I’ll be able to spend the entire week with you Grayson. I’ve got class.”

His eyebrows jump, “Class? Did you start a new programme?”

You nod, “Behavioral analysis.” Dick smiles, a little wicked at the confession. You move to his bicep, cleaning up the blood to find three claw-like marks tearing through his skin.

“Do you need real life case studies? I’ll be happy to help you out. You can analyse my behaviour when I’m with you.”

Your belly heats, and you’re sure the way you fluster is evident to Dick and that makes you feel even more bashful.

It’s clear he does feel a little bad about how flushed he’s making you when you feel his hand reach up to your cheek.

“I’ll stop for a little, angel. Don’t want you to pass out from all the heat you’re pushing out.”

“Dick!” You whine and he laughs, a full belly laugh that makes your frown turn to a small smile. “You’re the worst.”

You finish cleaning and dressing the scratches on his bicep, they only needed a few stitches on one of them.

“Oh am I?” He coos and you grumble, biting your lip to stop from swearing at him. “Okay okay, I’ll really stop now.” He promises; you look up at him through your lashes as you pull away from his hand and start cleaning up.

“Wanna watch a film with me?” He asks as you finish cleaning, his body suddenly tired now that he’s not worried about flirting and teasing you.

“One of your black and white French films?” It’s his turn to flush a little, clearly not expecting anyone to notice his choice in movies. “You always leave the disk in, and I don’t think anyone else is watching espionage French films except you.” You explain with a little smile.

“Maybe not a French one, we can do Russian or Spanish- I know you watch those.”

You shrug, “We can trade off, one French, one Spanish.”

Dick nods, groaning as he stands. His hand pressed tight to his side. “Why don’t you choose first, angel. Gonna get Alfred to sponge me off,” he pauses at the door, a mischievous smirk on his lips as he turns back to you. “Unless you want to do it, which I have zero objections to.”

“Go get your sponge bath Grayson, I’ll be in the media room.”

[dixons-sunshine]

Saw your birthday post and I’m here to say dad!daryl especially during pregnancy would be act like a caveman. You’re growing his child? He’s hunting for a mounting of food (more specifically animals especially deer) and presenting them to you like he’s at an altar. You want something. He’s already got it. Craving something that’s lots to the old world? Don’t worry he’ll do his best and if not he’ll find a suitable replacement. Dad!daryl would do anything for you already, and now you’re with his child… you really get to see how far he’d go.

Let’s not mention if you were ever in a position where he thinks you’d be in danger because he’s animalistic ensuring that you and his baby are okay.

Thank you for listening to my ted talk

Also happy early birthday!!

No because I think about this on a daily basis. You'd think I'm lying but I'm not. The amount of times I think of Daryl as a dad should be illegal lol. My own thoughts under the cut. (Sorry this isn't a proper fic. I didn't know how to write this in a way that would be in a way you deserve, but I loved this so much and didn't want this to go to waste, so I'm doing this. Hope it's okay!)

Basically everything you said is so freaking true. As far as I'm aware, aka on what I've seen in movies and what my mom has told me, the correct meat is an essential part to a pregnant woman's diet. Oh, boy, once you're pregnant and the doctor says that you need protein? You be rest assured that Daryl is not resting until he finds you the best goddamn venison he can. No rabbit or squirrel meat for the love of his life and his unborn baby. Y'all deserve only the best. He'd even fight tooth and nail if he could only find a small deer and there wouldn't be enough venison for everyone in the community and everyone wanted some. You needed it more than they did, and he'd hold someone at gunpoint if he needed to.

I've also wondered a lot about Daryl finding whatever you're craving. A few nights ago, I was really craving chips (fries) but I couldn't go buy any, so I had to make my own. While making it (at 3am if I may add) I thought about Daryl making you what you're craving during your pregnancy. If he can't find what you're craving outside the walls, he's gonna try his damn best to make it. Fries? He's picking potatoes out of the community's garden to make you that. You want a sandwich? He's gonna make you a sandwich. You want some crisps (chips)? He can't make it, but he's not gonna rest until he finds you some. It may be stale, but he doesn't care. Anything for you.

I've seen a couple of videos where the guy stands behind his pregnant partner and raises their belly to relieve some pressure. Daryl would do that! I read it in my favourite dad!Daryl series (Blood Ties by @celtic-crossbow. If you haven't read it yet, I highly recommend it!) and I was like “yes, he would totally do that!” Anything that would help make you even the slightest bit more comfortable, he'd do it. Also, I feel like it would bring a sense of comfort to him when he does that. It'd make him feel more connected with his baby before they're born, y'know?

Don't even get me started on Daryl being extremely overprotective of you. He doesn't want you to be in any sort of danger in general, but the need to keep you safe when you're carrying his baby increases by a tenfold. Your escapades beyond the walls are put on a hold for the foreseeable future. Anything you need beyond the walls, he'll get it for you. And if you don't want him to leave you, he'll get someone else to do it for him. He wouldn't ever let you willingly put yourself in danger, and if you ever were in danger, the people responsible for it would pay dearly.

I have a lot of thoughts on this but my brain isn't working with me right now. Thank you so much for sending this in! I really loved this so much.

[perlelune]

Tag, You’re It | Ethan Landry | ix.

Happy, carefree college days meet their abrupt end when every guy who approaches you mysteriously turns up dead.

Warnings: NON-CON, Stalking, Bimbo!Reader, Clueless Reader, Loss of Virginity, Incel Ethan, Cheerleader Reader, Skin Carving (w/knife), Canon Typical Slashing, Voyeurism, Kidnapping, Forced Masturbation, Filming, Blackmail

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

The next few weeks trudge along in a dull fog, the efflorescence of spring yielding to the sizzling heat of summer. You cloister yourself in a sedulous bubble, turning your focus to cheerleading and the upcoming midterms.

You miss your friends, each day agonizing as you’re trapped in aching loneliness.

You miss Mindy’s sarcastic jokes, Chad’s warmth, Anika’s laugh.

You miss the lazy afternoons spent in each other’s dorms and horror movie nights. You miss the goofy late night chats about everything and nothing.

You also miss Ethan, his kindness, his patience.

Without him, studying becomes much harder. 

Even more than the help he provided, his friendship meant the world to you. He always listened and knew exactly what to say to cheer you up. Unfortunately he’s just as in danger as everyone else in your presence.

Getting close to you is a death sentence. 

You’ve learnt that some time after Tyler was attacked.

He succumbed to his injuries the very next night.

The news shook the student body and unleashed a ripple of fear throughout campus. 

As for you, it cemented your decision to keep away from everyone you hold dear. 

It’s for the best.

Your heart shatters every time Ghostface’s words bounce in your head. 

If you had stayed away from Tyler, he’d still be alive. The guilt of knowing that weighs upon you everyday.

It’s no wonder people give you wary looks when you walk across campus. It’s a miracle Alana even let you remain on the team with everything going on. 

You know she has every reason to kick you out and, truthfully, you’d understand if she did. 

It’s like Jeff said at the hospital. You’re cursed.

It’s Friday night and you’re in your room on your own, your roommate away on a trip with her boyfriend.

You don’t mind it since Vanessa started tossing you the same strange looks as everyone else lately.

It’s created a weird atmosphere in your dorm.

You’ve even caught her trying to fill a form to switch roommates, citing medical reasons. She was expeditiously denied as the year’s far too advanced and has been in a mood since.

A break is more than welcome.

Sitting on your bed with your knee against your chest, you carefully apply the second coat of your favorite pink nail polish. You smile at your handiwork once it’s dry, happiness fluttering through you at how pretty your toes look. 

As you remove your toe separator and wiggle them, wondering if you should add a layer of glitter or not, your phone buzzes.

Terror clutches your insides. 

A surprised exhale leaves your lips and you even kick the bottle of nail polish across the fuzzy rug below your bed, staining the pale blue wool with bright dots of pink.

Heart pounding a heavy staccato in your chest, you gingerly pick up your phone from beside your pillow.

You suck in a deep breath, then another one.

Ever since that night, you’ve been on edge every time your phone buzzes.

Needless to say the last few weeks have taken a tremendous toll on your sanity.

Finally, you gather the courage to check the text you just received.

At the sight of the familiar name, a mix of relief and melancholy floods your insides.

(Anika K: 

Hey, just checking on you and wishing you a happy Friday. Hope you’re okay and, if not, that things will look up very soon. 

I know you said you wanted space so I’m not gonna push, but I just wanted to let you know that I miss you so so much and things aren’t as fun when you’re not around.

I don’t know everything but I want you to know that I love and support you no matter what.

Here’s a bear for you cause I know how much you love them! 💖💖💖

Your bestie, Nikki)

A dancing bear shooting little hearts follows her message.

Tears swim in your eyes as you grow overwhelmed. They drip onto the screen, water smudging Anika’s words. You wipe your eyes and sniffle, grabbing the box of tissues on your night table. 

It’s not the first time your friends have tried to reach out.

Nearly everyday you get a message from Mindy, Chad, Anika and even Tara and Quinn sometimes, despite not being as close to them. 

They’re trying to get you to come out and act normal again. Except you can’t. 

No matter how much you crave it, normalcy is beyond your grasp. As soon as you’ll let your guard down, he’ll come back to torture you. Who knows who he’ll pick next just to teach you a lesson.

You can’t bear it. You can’t be the reason people are getting hurt. 

So you close the conversation with Anika as tears stream down your face, once again leaving her on read. 

Your heart sinks to your feet. 

You grab your teddy bear and hug it tightly, shuddering sobs wracking your frame.

The pit of hollowness inside you expands. 

You’ve never been so isolated before. It makes you wish you appreciated everything you used to have more. 

A gentle knock on the door lures you away from your wistful musings.

You gasp as your head jerks up.

You quickly wipe your eyes, lamenting their puffy redness as you get a glimpse of your despondent reflection in your vanity mirror.

You let go of your bear, propping him against the headboard.

Plastering on a smile, you plod to your dorm’s entrance.

Your jaw hangs slack at the sight of the head of brown curls and lopsided, bashful smile you know too well.

“Hey,” he greets, adjusting the strap of his backpack.

“E-Ethan? You shouldn’t be here.”

You attempt to shut the door but Ethan wedges his foot against the door jamb to keep it open.  He slinks inside and closes the door behind him.

Your eyes grow wider.

He drops his backpack on the floor and leans against the door, tilting his head sideways while running his eyes over you. 

“You missed all our tutoring sessions,” he notes.

A feeble apology stumbles out of your lips. “I’m sorry.”

He hums in acknowledgement before adding, “You don’t answer when I text or call.”

You heave out a long sigh.

“You should go.”

You try to shove him out but he doesn’t budge.

“No way,” he says firmly.

Your fingers outstretch toward the handle but Ethan’s faster, snapping the lock into place and placing himself in front of the door so you can’t escape.

You gawk at him.

“Ethan…What are you doing?”

Towering over you, he takes a slow step in your direction.

“I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me.”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

His hand sneaks under your chin when you lower your head.

“I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be,” he mutters, angling your chin upward so his gaze dives into yours. His chestnut orbs soften as they drink you in. “Come on. I’m always here for you, you know that.”

The longer you peer at him, the more the fences you erected around yourself crumble, until nothing is left but ruins.

More tears swell in your eyes.

“Everyone who gets close to me dies, Ethan,” you shakily confess.

Immediately, he wraps his arms around you, engulfing you in a tight warm hug. 

“Shh, that’s just not true,” he whispers tenderly, cradling the back of your head as you weep against his chest.

“Yes, it’s true. It’s like everyone’s saying. I’m cursed.”

He collects your trembling fingers from your lap and twines them with his. 

Your tears soak his shirt but Ethan doesn’t seem to mind. He grabs your hand and guides you back to your bed as you thoughtlessly trail behind him.

He sits you at the edge of your bed and hunkers down in front of you. Even like this, Ethan’s so tall that you’re still at eye level with him.

“You’re not cursed," he affirms softly. 

Water drips down where your hands are joined with his. 

“Yes, I am," you quaver. 

"But I am."

"No," he fervently retaliates, lifting one hand to swipe your tears with his thumb while the other one roams over your thigh. "It just wasn’t meant to be. These guys weren’t right for you…" You stare at him, numb with shock. Dumbfounded, you don’t move as he cups your cheeks and bends over you.

A confident smile unfurls on his mouth.

Warm lips suddenly collide with yours. You find yourself on your back, confined between Ethan’s large frame and the mattress as he kisses you senseless. 

You whimper and his kiss turns hungrier, his hand roughly gripping under your thigh in a way that’ll surely bruise the next day. He hums, exploring your mouth and sweeping over your curves.

As an unmistakable pressure jutting from between Ethan’s legs presses into your belly, alarm bells ring inside your head.

You bang against his chest to get him to stop. 

"Ethan! What are you-"

He finally allows you to breathe but doesn’t free you, keeping you caged beneath him by putting his hands on each side of you. 

He licks his swollen lips and caresses the side of your face before admitting breathlessly, "I love you."

Your mouth falls open in sheer disbelief. You toss him a contrite look as he scrutinizes you. 

"I…I’m sorry but I don’t feel this way about you, Ethan."

He chuckles, a hopeful smile blooming on his features.

"Maybe not now but…"

"No, I don’t think I ever will,” you cut him off, your voice dwindling. “I only see you as a friend. One of my best friends.” You raise your hand to graze his jaw and he flinches at your touch, his brows squeezing together. “I care about you so much…but not like that. I’m sorry."

Something shifts in Ethan’s eyes, the light in them dimming.

"I see."

The coldness of his deep timbre sends a wave of ice through your veins.

He scoffs meanly, a manic glint waltzing in his brown gaze, "So you’d throw yourself at any random guy but not me?” He corrals your jaw in a bruising grip. You whimper, fingers latching to his wrist to pull him away but he’s much too strong.

A devilish grin curves his lips as he leers down at you. “What are you, some kind of slut?” He leans over you so his lips ghost over your earshell. You quake as he mumbles chilling words into your ear. “Maybe since you’re a slut, I should treat you like one.”

You unleash an audible breath, your lip wobbling.

Suddenly, there’s no more air, no more space. Only Ethan’s large frame pinning you to the bed as his hands wander over you, feeling everywhere at once.

Struggling is for naught, his ardent mouth tracing the column of your neck.

He nips at your skin and you sob.

"No, Ethan, please. This isn’t you,” you plead, fat tears rolling down your face.

His hand creeps inside your shorts and your heart skips a beat. A squeal tears from your throat as he plucks at your folds through your panties. 

Ethan muffles your scream by draping his hand over your mouth. You look up at him with fearful eyes, adrenaline rushing through your blood.

Palming your core, Ethan unleashes a devious chuckle.

"Well, maybe you don’t know me as well as you think,” he whispers, yanking a broken wail from you when he pinches your bundle of nerves.

~

[neo-my-geo]

Hey gang, it’s your old pal Neo here. If you know me, it’s probably from one of the several very stupid TF2 comics I’ve posted to Tumblr.

However! I am also an English major (unfortunately). One who has read millions of words worth of fanfiction in their life. I have been part of the Sherlock, BNHA, Disco Elysium, and, of course, TF2 fandoms; I’ve been around the block.

The further I’ve progressed into my English education, the more I’ve noticed which mistakes are the most common in fanfiction. Many of them are easily fixable; writers just need to be pointed in the right direction. 

“Neo! Does this mean you think people shouldn’t be allowed to post their works online without a background in formal English education?”

Of course not! I can explain why if you’d care to venture below the cut with me!

Yes, I will explain how to use commas.

It’s important to note that this is NOT a post about formal writing. You aren’t writing an essay. Please, for the love of god, do not write fiction like you’re writing an essay.

There are no stakes to writing fanfic. No one is going to get hurt if an author doesn’t know what a dangling participle is. One of my favourite things about fanfiction is that it’s one of the only art forms left that’s done exclusively for fun! You should write what you enjoy, and share what you make with like-minded people. 

What I want to do is provide assistance as best I can to writers who want to improve their fundamentals without having to take the same university courses I did. Nobody is going to be getting a formal education to write fanfiction unless they’re ridiculously dedicated, and I’m not expecting that of anyone. 

The point I need to stress is that knowing these grammar fundamentals can instantly improve the flow of your writing. Punctuation is a ridiculously important tool for writers, ESPECIALLY in fiction. Commas, semicolons, and full stops (including periods, exclamation points, and question marks) steer the pacing in the reader’s mind; did you notice how your brain stopped for a second after that semicolon? I can show you how to do that.

You may be wondering why I’m going through so much effort to teach all of this to strangers on the internet. The answer is that I enjoy sharing this knowledge with others and helping them grow. By seeing this, my goal is to help you become more proficient at self-editing. Showing this to people who actually want to learn will, hopefully, benefit the community as a whole, and I think that’s very worth it. 

Also, while this post is obviously themed around TF2, the points I’m making can be applied to any fiction. Grammar is for everyone, and the church of the semicolon always has room for more initiates. 

Also also, as an edit, I should clarify that this is meant to cover the more objective facets of self-editing, which is why I'm mostly covering punctuation. Maybe I'll do another post about using adjectives someday.

With that out of the way, let’s get going!

I’ve teamed up with several English teachers (real ones! One of which may or may not be my mom!) and an editor to gather a list of the most common problems we see in amateur fiction. This post is going to be split into three broad sections: apostrophes, commas/semicolons, and other common problems. 

The apostrophe

This section is short, but it holds weight. Other than commas, apostrophes are the most typoed grammatical tool in any fanfiction I’ve edited. This is because, much like the rest of English, the rules surrounding them can be annoying and inconsistent. 

Apostrophes have two main uses: possessives and conjunctions.

A possessive is a word that denotes the ownership of one thing over another. The vast majority of the time, this is done using an apostrophe and an S.

There is, however, one glaring exception to this rule, and it’s the bane of my existence. 

When denoting possession of an object over something else while using the pronoun ‘it,’ you do NOT add an apostrophe before the S.

A conjunction, on the other hand, is when a writer uses an apostrophe to combine two words. The following are examples of common conjunctions:

What’s (what is)

They’re (they are)

It’s (it is)

Conjunctions are not often used in formal writing. Thankfully, we aren’t dealing in formal writing. Go crazy.

Time for a lightning round of the most commonly mistaken for each other possessives and conjunctions!

Your is possessive. You’re is a conjunction of ‘you’ and ‘are.’ When you can’t decide which one to use, imagine replacing it with ‘you are’ and seeing if it makes sense. If it doesn’t, use your.

Their is possessive. There indicates a location. They’re is a conjunction of ‘they’ and ‘are.’ 

The comma and the semicolon

You knew it was coming. I knew it was coming. It’s time to talk about commas.

Commas and semicolons are far and away the biggest grammatical hole in the toolset of fanfiction writers everywhere. They’re often treated like the rules surrounding them are complicated and difficult to understand, but the exact opposite is true! 

The big issue I’ve heard time and time again is that the rules of commas are often explained through metaphor instead of example; this means that writers everywhere have slightly different ideas of how you’re supposed to use them. The fact of the matter is that, yes, there are correct and incorrect ways to use commas. Knowing when they’re appropriate and when they aren’t is easily the fastest way to bring your writing from looking amateurish to sounding professional and experienced. 

In order to know how to use a comma, you must first understand the difference between a dependent and an independent clause. 

An independent clause is a section of writing that functions perfectly well as its own sentence. It MUST have both a subject and an action/verb.

A sentence without an independent clause is known as a fragment, and they’re the bane of English teachers with highlighters everywhere. 

A dependent clause is a section of writing that does not have both a subject and an action; it does not function as its own sentence.

Now, let’s say you want to combine the two. When joining a dependent clause to an independent clause, the order in which they are placed is crucial to whether you use a comma or not. 

When joining a dependent to an independent with the independent clause first, you do not need to use a comma.

When joining a dependent to an independent with the dependent clause first, you MUST use a comma. 

Keep in mind that, if one strives for total grammatical perfection, all narrative sentences MUST have an independent clause. This, however, does not apply to dialogue. Human beings do not think about whether what they’re saying is a dependent clause, and neither would the vast majority of fictional characters. Don’t be afraid to break the rules of grammar as long as it’s contained within quotation marks. 

Alright, that’s the easy part. Time to learn about joining two independent clauses. It’s semicolon time, baby!

If you join two independent clauses without properly using a comma or a semicolon, it is a run-on sentence. You do not want these in your writing. They’re awkward to read and mess up the flow.

When joining two independent clauses, you can use EITHER a comma or a semicolon. You just need to follow these rules:

If you’re joining two independent clauses with a comma, you MUST use a joining word (and, but, so, etc.) AFTER the comma. 

If you’re joining two independent clauses with a semicolon, you do NOT need to use a joining word.

Did you know that a sentence with a comma counts as its own independent clause? This means that you can make a sentence that includes a mix of both without it being a run-on! Just make sure that, no matter what, the semicolon is between two independent clauses. 

Still, try not to write more than two clauses in a sentence too often. Sentences with a lot of punctuation are very attention-grabbing, but shouldn’t be overused. Full stops aren’t your enemy and variety is the spice of life. 

It’s also important to remember that you should avoid using more than one comma in a clause (with the exception of the rule below). That part loops back to the 'avoiding run-ons' bit.

It’s really that easy! 

Commas are also used in informal writing to inject a separate thought or descriptor mid-sentence without breaking the flow by adding a period. This is often used when describing the perspective of a character experiencing something in a story, but not (usually) when using omniscient perspectives. 

The final issue I frequently see with commas in fanfiction is in regards to dialogue. Sometimes you end it with them, and sometimes you don’t. What gives? 

Well, my friend, the answer is, thankfully, much simpler than the previous section.

When following dialogue with a dialogue tag, use a comma instead of a full stop. If you’re continuing the previous sentence after the tag, use a comma after it as well. 

Note that a dialogue tag is a short phrase that identifies the speaker. It isn’t a complete sentence on its own.

When following dialogue with an action that does not serve as a dialogue tag, use a full stop instead of a comma. 

Other common problems

This section is dedicated to putting specific grammatical errors into words, along with how to solve them. 

Not sticking to the chosen point of view

Always choose your point of view before you start. Is it in the first, second, or third person? Is it omniscient or limited? Does the point of view switch during the story?

First person perspective is told as if the POV character is directly describing their experience to the reader. The character uses I and we to describe their own actions.

Second person perspective is told as if the reader is a character in the story and their actions are being described to them. This is the rarest, and the most difficult to write.

Third person perspective is the most common and the simplest to write. The events of the story are a separate entity from the reader altogether and the narrator uses they/he/she/it pronouns for characters. 

Omniscient perspective means the narrator of the story knows all, including the thoughts and feelings of each character. 

Limited perspective means the narrator of the story only knows what the POV character knows. 

Past and present tense

When you decide between writing a story in past or present tense, it is crucial that you do not switch between them unless it is narratively intentional. Reading a past tense story that mistakenly switches to the present tense is like being pulled out of the room someone is telling a story in and suddenly taking part in it yourself. It’s disorienting and gives the reader unwanted pause.

Overly-long paragraphs

A common adage spread by English teachers is that most paragraphs should be at least eight sentences long. This is great advice for beginner essays. You’re writing fiction. 

If you have a new thought, start a new paragraph! A concise and well-read single-sentence paragraph is infinitely better than one that drags a thought for too long. Aim to have a blend of paragraph lengths when you write, alternating between the descriptive and the punctual. 

Dangling participles

A dangling participle is when a word is used to describe a noun that isn’t actually present in the sentence. Much like how a sentence without an action isn’t grammatically correct, neither is a sentence without a subject. 

Malapropisms

A malapropism is when an author mistakenly uses one word or phrase instead of another similar-sounding one. I’m not about to list every single malapropism ever made, but these are the ones I notice most often:

To comprehend is to understand something, to apprehend is to arrest someone, and to be apprehensive is to be anxious or fearful of something bad happening.

Could care less means you do care. Couldn’t care less means you don’t.

A lot means a large amount of something. Alot isn’t a word and you shouldn’t use it.

The only real solution to using malapropisms is to make sure you fully understand any words you use in your writing. Never guess, and make sure you always google it. Having beta readers also helps.

If you made it this far, congratulations! You now know the most common errors in amateur fiction and how to solve them! Thank you for listening to me complain for two thousand words. 

The most important thing to remember is that it’s okay to make mistakes. First drafts are always gonna be a little bad. The real key to success is knowing what your end goal is, and how you plan on achieving it. Here’s hoping this was a helpful tool for that!

Shoutout to @salmonandsoup for helping me think of the list of issues to address! You're a real one. Also shoutout to my mom, who doesn't have Tumblr. Also the third person. You know who you are.

[sylix-royalty]

I’m getting back into writing, so have a Hotch/Reid snippet!

can… can i have a hug? please?

And a little bit of

oh, sweetheart- come here.

With a dash of

how long has it been since someone hugged you?

Type: Angsty Fluff

Warnings: Kinda just sad, brief mention of drugs

Spencer was very obviously the most touch starved of the group. It wasn’t to no fault of his, not really. It was clear he didn’t prefer physical contact most of the time, but Aaron wasn’t stupid. Aaron knew that despite Spencer’s sensory issues and mild germaphobic tendencies, he really just wanted to be hugged sometimes.

It was more obvious after some cases, when his arms wrapped around himself as he sat alone on the back of the plane, curled up as staring out of the window rather than reading whatever book he’d already read 7 or 8 times that week. It was only Wednesday after all.

It was less obvious after others, the itch of his hands as he read, how they’d twitch before he’d read a page. Aaron noticed, but he wasn’t sure that the others did, too careful of Spencer sensory. And Spencer clearly didn’t want to add more fuel to the fire of his own mind by his need of physical contact. But, Aaron wasn’t stupid. He was a profiler for a reason. But he wasn’t just going to jump down Spencer’s throat like that, putting him on the spot would be unhelpful and most likely backfire.

So, Aaron watched more intentionally. Trying to give an obvious sign to Spencer that he was here for him, should Spencer need him. It took a while, longer than Aaron liked to admit, but finally Spencer came into his office after hours.

The case had been a bad one. Having to deal with not only children, but Spencer was taken as a hostage and belittled so bad that Aaron was on the verge of shooting the man just to make him shut the hell up for good. Of course he couldn’t, that would risk his job, and more importantly Spencer’s life, but the thought definitely crossed his mind.

“Do you mind if I sit?” Spencer asked softly, and Aaron nodded slowly.

“Stay as long as you need,” he said gently, trying not to use that boss tone he knew he had. Spencer nodded, noting the attempt, and sat on the couch, curled up with his arms around himself once again, staring at the wall.

Aaron worked in silence, not going to push or pry answers out of the younger. He knew Spencer was struggling, and he had a terrible reputation when it came to asking for help. But Aaron hoped he was slowly working through that.

“You don’t believe him, do you?” Spencer whispered, finally. “You don’t… you don’t see me as a… drugged up, ratty—“

“No, Spencer,” Aaron cut him off, not allowing Spencer to repeat the words of the UnSub. “I don’t see you like that. No one does.”

“I do,” Spencer whispered, “I feel like that, sometimes. Sometimes I wonder if everything’s worth it.”

“It’s all worth it,” Aaron whispered.

“You would say that,” Spencer whispered, and Aaron set his pen down.

“Meaning?” Aaron asked without trying to sound offended or offput.

“Meaning you see me,” Spencer explained. “You see the man I’m trying to be. You… you understand… who I am in a way that most other’s can’t.”

“I’m perceptive,” Aaron reasoned.

“Yes,” Spencer agreed. “But you also care.”

“This team cares about you,” Aaron reasoned.

“They do,” Spencer nodded. “But they care so much about one thing, something you’ve been… overlooking lately.”

Aaron blinked.

“You’ve been staring at me, after cases. Reading me. I see your eyes. I feel them.”

“If I’ve made you uncomfortable, that wasn’t my intention,” Aaron promised.

“No, I know,” Spencer promised. “I just…” he inhaled slowly, his arms falling from where they were wrapped around him. “Can I have… have a hug? Please?”

Aaron exhaled slowly from where he sat, finally hearing the words come from Spencer’s mouth almost made him jump out of his chair. He still moved a bit too quick, but Spencer didn’t seem to mind or care as he quickly got off the couch, hearing Aaron’s gentle “oh sweetheart, come here,” and met Aaron halfway, wrapping his arms around Aaron’s shoulders, and Aaron’s arms around his waist.

Spencer almost broke right there. But Aaron held him up strong, as per usual. He kept his hold for as long as Spencer needed, or wanted, which was longer than he originally calculated.

“When was the last time someone hugged you?” Aaron whispered into his ear.

“Too long,” Spencer whispered, voice broken and scraggly as he pushed his nose into Aaron’s shoulder.

“Don’t let it ever be that long again,” Aaron whispered.

“I’m here, Spence. I’m right here.”

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 29, Unarmed, Redux - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of violence, death, talking about feelings, finally being honest and getting shit out there.

Word Count: 2.1k

Previously On...: Tony filled you in on what's happened since your showdown with Carthage.

A/N: Send in the Barnes!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

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“Doll.” Your eyes shot open at the sound of Bucky’s husky whisper. He stood in the doorway, staring at you like he was seeing a ghost. He was still wearing the same clothes he wore when he’d rescued you– covered in dried blood, both yours and the Hydra agents he’d taken down. His right eye was a riot of black and blue bruises, nearly swollen shut, his lip cut.

“Hey, soldier,” you said softly. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I’m surprised you wanted to see me at all, doll,” he said forlornly. “After everything I put you through, I’d be done with me if I were you.”

You offered him a soft half-smile. “Come here,” you said, using your good arm to pat the space on the bed next to you.

Bucky looked between you and the spot you indicated with confusion, as if he weren’t sure he’d heard your offer correctly. But he walked over to you like a man condemned, and you wondered briefly if he expected you to tell him you were well and truly done with him now. As if you could ever be. You were pretty positive by now that, in spite of everything, you truly couldn’t live without him.

Gently, so as not to jostle you, Bucky sat down on the bed, though making sure not to touch you. You weren’t going to have any of that, though, so you reached across with your good arm and tugged him toward you until he was snug against your left shoulder. It hurt a little bit, but it was worth it to have him close.

Bucky looked down at where your left arm should have been, tucked underneath your hospital gown and hidden from view, as it was, in its sling. “I see you’ve come unarmed, doll.” He offered a weak smile.

You threw your head back and laughed, and it felt so good to feel good in his presence again. “You got jokes, Barnes,” you teased, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Speaking of jokes, what the fuck happened to your face?”

Bucky raised a hand to his face, gently poking at the swollen tissue. “Little gift from Stark,” he said. “For everything I put you through. Can’t say I didn’t earn it.”

You frowned, moving your hand up to gently caress his cheek. “He shouldn’t have done that,” you told him softly. Bucky looked down at you. “I deserved it, doll. I deserved that and so much worse, for everything I did to you. You almost died– fuck, you did die, and it’s all my fault. If I hadn’t let Carthage think there could be something between us, if I hadn’t led her on, none of this would have happened. You never would have gotten hurt, never had your heart broken. We’d be getting ready for our baby, and I wouldn’t have betrayed you over and over again–”

“Baby,” you said, putting your hand gently to his lips so as not to disturb the cut, “Stop. I’m not saying you’re blameless, but it’s not all entirely your fault, either. Carthage… Carthage had a mission, same as Soldat had missions. Maybe she wasn’t wiped the way you were, still had some control over her own mind, but she was programmed to want to get you just as surely as Soldat was programmed to kill. She would have come for me, no matter what, because I was an obstacle to that mission. It wouldn’t have mattered, I don’t think, if you had never spoken to her. I was always going to be in her way.”

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t hurt you, though. In so many horrible ways.”

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, each lost in your own thoughts.

“How’re you holding up?” he asked eventually, gently petting your hair. “And I mean mentally, not physically.”

You sighed. “Everything happened so quickly, you know?” Bucky hummed in agreement. “It was like: Boom! Chloe died! Boom! Lost a baby, almost died! Boom! Kidnapped, beaten up! Boom! Shot, almost died! It all still feels like it happened to someone else, and I haven’t really had a chance to let myself feel it, you know?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, I get it. But when it does hit, it’s going to hit hard, I think.”

“Probably,” you agreed. “I think I need to find a new therapist that’s not an A.I.” you told him. “Not that Tony’s program isn’t great– I just… Did you know Carthage hacked into my session feeds?”

Bucky’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Fuck. Doll, that’s an awful violation of your privacy. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s… she… she took what she learned about me from my sessions, and she used them to manipulate you, to hurt us,” you told him.

Bucky tensed beside you. “What do you mean?”

“Her ‘advice’ to you?” you said. “About what she liked in bed, to spice up our relationship?” Bucky nodded slowly, and you could tell he was ashamed with himself at the memory. “Well, she tailored it specifically with what she knew would be most upsetting to me, what would hurt me the most, so I would be angry at you, be the most hurt by you.”

Bucky swallowed, and you noticed his fists clenching next to you. “And I played right into it,” he said, shaking his head. He was furious; at both Carthage and himself, you could see that. “I was so fucking stupid; I didn’t see what she truly was until it was too late, and I let her play me like a fiddle.”

“You wanted a friend who understood you,” you said. Yes, you were still hurt by everything that he’d done, and you probably would be for a long, long time, but the truth of it was, now that you’d seen what Carthage truly was, had witnessed the depths of her manipulation of him, your anger toward him had significantly abated. Maybe you were being foolish. Stupid, naive. Maybe you were making all the wrong decisions, but your heart was always going to pull you back to Bucky Barnes. He was a gravitational force you just couldn’t escape. 

“I had friends,” Bucky argued softly. “I have you, and Steve, and fucking Big Bird. I didn’t need her. Why did I think I needed her, Pocket?”

You shrugged, taking his hand in yours. “Hydra had you for 70 years,” you told him, “and during that entire time, you were alone. Surrounded by people, but you were all alone. It makes sense that you would seek out someone who, based on what we all thought we knew about her, had been through something similar. I mean, how could any of us understand, really, what sort of horrors you’d gone through, when you don’t even understand all of them, yourself?

“She came packaged as this perfect counterpoint to you. And we know she was trained– educated, basically, in how to get to you. She basically had a Master’s degree in Bucky Barnes.”

Bucky snorted. “It’s still not an excuse for my actions, doll,” he said.

“No,” you began carefully, “it’s not. But it’s a mitigating factor that will be used in determining your sentence,” you said with a small smile.

“Have to say, sweets, I’d been fully expecting a life sentence of you never speaking to me again.”

“Yeah, that was what the jury was initially thinking, but upon further review of the evidence, they may be willing to bring it down to time served and supervised probation going forward.”

He looked at you, eyes blazing with hope, but almost instantly, his face fell. “Doll, how can you say that? I fucking slept with her! How can you still want to be with me after that?”

You sat up a little straighter, slowly this time, so as not to disturb your injuries. “Did you know Jade recorded the two of you?” you asked him carefully. “In the Russian safehouse?”

Bucky went pale and moved away from you. “No,” he whispered. “No, I didn’t know that. Oh God, Pocket– did she… did she make you watch it?”

You nodded, and Bucky put his head in his hands. “Oh, fuck. Doll. I am so sorry. I never wanted you to see that. It was bad enough that it happened, but for you to have had to witness it–”

“Buck,” you pulled his hands away from his face. “Buck, it’s okay. I’m glad I saw it, actually.”

Bucky looked at you with wide, disbelieving eyes. “What?!” he asked. “How… how can you be glad?! I cheated on you, I broke your trust– again! How can that make you anything but disgusted with me?”

“Okay, let’s take this one step at a time,” you said, repositioning your hands so you could interlock your fingers with his. “First of all, it wasn’t cheating. We technically weren’t together, so you could have slept with whomever you wanted to. I don’t love that it was her, but we weren’t committed.”

“It felt like cheating,” Bucky bemoaned. “I hated myself the entire time.”

“I appreciate that,” you said. “But you need to know that, while I did hate that you slept with her, I would have gotten over that, eventually. That wasn’t what I was upset about, after.” 

“It was the lying and not telling you what happened after I got back,” Bucky offered, and you nodded. “I didn’t get your messages about the articles until after I’d done it,” he said. “And I felt like the biggest fucking idiot. Of course you never would have done that to me. You’ve always been too good for me. I think I was projecting my own guilt onto you, and that was so fucked up of me. I was so scared of losing you when you were willing to give me another chance, I just ended up pushing you further away.”

“It doesn’t help that you had a snake whispering in your ear,” you said. When he looked at you, confused, you continued: “I’m not absolving you of all guilt, because you still had autonomy; you still made your own decisions, but I saw how she fed into your insecurities, in the video. How she played up your fears, and used them to manipulate you. How she took your anger and disappointment and used it to her advantage. I also saw how you had to think about me in order to get it up for her,” you added with a smirk.

Bucky blushed. “Caught that, did you? I don’t think Carthage did; though I wasn’t trying to be subtle about it, to be honest.”

“No,” you said with a smile. “She didn’t catch it, and she most certainly wasn’t happy when I pointed it out to her. Was quite pissed when I laughed about it to her face.”

“Oh God,” said Bucky. “That must have infuriated her.”

“How’d you think I got the broken arm?” you asked cheekily. 

“That fucking bitch,” Bucky hissed between clenched teeth. 

“It was worth it,” you assured him. “She took your pain at what you thought I’d done, and she twisted it, made you a victim. I’d break all my bones if it meant she paid for what she did to you.”

“I don’t understand how you can be so forgiving about all of this,” he said.

You snorted. “Would you rather I just cut you out of my life forever?”

“No!” Bucky looked up at you, alarmed. “Never– I just… I just don’t understand how you can be so… okay about it, after everything.”

You shrugged. “Well, I did die; certain things seem trivial, now. Maybe I’ve got, like, ancient death wisdom or something.”

Bucky wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Not funny,” he said, tugging you gently to him. “I’ve never been more scared in my life than I was when I thought I lost you.”

“I know,” you hummed. “You snapped Carthage’s neck.”

Bucky flinched. “I wish I could say I’m sorry I did that, but I’m not. I know I swore off killing a long time ago… but when it was you in danger? I don’t have any regrets. I’d do it again, even if it makes me the fucking monster everyone says I am.” 

“Thank you,” you said to him. 

“For what?” he asked. “Killing her?”

“For choosing me over her. When it really mattered.”

“Figured it was about time I started showin’ you I meant it, doll,” he said with a sad smile.

“And for what it’s worth,” you added, “I don’t think you’re a monster. I think you slayed one, and as far as I’m concerned, that makes you my hero.”

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[tiny-wooden-robot-fics]

Magnolia - Chapter Two

Rating: Explicit Media: Jujutsu Kaisen Pairing(s): Geto Suguru x Original Female Character, Geto Suguru x Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru x Gojo Satoru x Original Female Character Additional Tags: Vampire AU, Dark Themes, Implied/Reference Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Depression, Loneliness, Eventual Smut

A/N: More tags will be added as chapters are updated. Please be mindful of the tags and warnings at the beginning of each chapter, as they will tell you what you need to know about the content within.

Minors, DNI.

Summary:

“How?” Her heart is racing. She asks it, not sure she wants to know the answer. There is something in the pit of her stomach, some feeling that she can’t put words to. It chills her.

“Do you really want to know that?” He’s turned away from her now, collecting the broken pieces of the smashed vase and the scattered flowers, dumping them into the wastebasket.

No. “Yes,” she whispers. “I think I have the right to know. I remember how the cuts looked. At the rate I was bleeding out, stopping the blood flow would’ve been almost impossible.”

Chapter Navigation 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

Read on AO3

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of blood, vague references to hunting and killing animals

Chapter Two: Scattered Magnolias

One need not be a chamber - to be haunted One need not be a House The Brain - has Corridors surpassing Material Place -Emily Dickinson, One Need Not be a Chamber - to be Haunted

--

“You didn’t.” 

The tone of Satoru’s voice is reproachful, as if he is scolding an unruly child for misbehaving. He can almost envision Satoru at the other end of the phone line, on the other side of the world: tapping his foot impatiently, rolling his eyes, wondering how Suguru could be so reckless, so stupid, so sentimental.

It irritates him. “I did,” he replies. 

“Why? I didn’t think you were in the market for a pet.”

“Stop it, Satoru,” he snaps. “I wish you wouldn’t call them that.”

“But isn’t that what they are?” His husband asks it reasonably, as if it’s the most logical thing in the world to refer to humans as though they are domesticated animals. “They’re weak and fragile. They die too quickly. And they need all sorts of troublesome things.”

“The last time I checked, food and water weren’t ‘troublesome things,’” Suguru sighs witheringly. 

“I’m not talking about that,” Satoru rebuts. “I mean the other stuff. They need reassurance, affection, praise. Who has time to waste on that?”

Not you, clearly. If you did, you’d be here, instead of all the way on the other side of the world. “I have to go,” he says aloud. “She’ll probably be waking up soon.”

“Don’t forget to pick up after her when she shits,” Satoru snickers. “I’ve heard you can get fined if you don’t.”

Suguru doesn’t bother to answer him, simply disconnecting the call instead. 

--

She’s listening through the crack in the door and can hear exactly when he stops talking. The silence after doesn’t last long - the end of his one-sided conversation is followed by a bang, as though something has been knocked over. 

“I take it that wasn’t a pleasant phone call,” she offers softly, cautiously stepping out into the hallway. 

He doesn’t seem to be startled as he turns to face her. Her eyes fall on the vase of flowers that’s very clearly been thrown to the floor. The vase is shattered, water and magnolia blossoms littering the floor in a mess at his feet. “I’m sorry if I woke you,” he murmurs, setting the wastebasket in his hand down. 

“I’ve been awake for a while,” she answers. “Though I don’t know how long ‘a while’ is,” she adds thoughtfully. 

“You slept for a little more than a whole day.”

The news should surprise her, but it doesn’t. She looks down at her wrists. They’ve been bandaged up. “I thought I did it right,” she says, her voice soft. “I guess I fucked it up, just like everything else I do.” She adds that last with a laugh, but it sounds hollow and sad to his ears.

“You… if you mean your technique,” he starts, “that wasn’t done wrong. You cut exactly as you should have if you were trying to kill yourself.”

“I was trying to kill myself.”

“Were you?” 

Something about the way he has asked the question makes her realize that he doesn’t believe her. “What did you do to me?” 

“Stopped your bleeding.”

“How?” Her heart is racing. She asks it, not sure she wants to know the answer. There is something in the pit of her stomach, some feeling that she can’t put words to. It chills her. 

“Do you really want to know that?” He’s turned away from her now, collecting the broken pieces of the smashed vase and the scattered flowers, dumping them into the wastebasket. 

No. “Yes,” she whispers. “I think I have the right to know. I remember how the cuts looked. At the rate I was bleeding out, stopping the blood flow would’ve been almost impossible.”

He pauses in his movement, his back still facing her. “Maybe I’m just really good at first aid.”

She doesn’t believe him. “I don’t believe you.” Her hands are trembling, and so is her voice. 

Letting the last of the broken pieces of porcelain fall into the wastebasket, he sighs. A moment later he stands and turns to face her again. “No, you don’t believe me… but you also already know what the truth is, don’t you?”

“I thought I might have been dreaming,” she admits. “Or maybe that I’d… that I’d already died.” She looks away from him. “You killed something.”

“I did,” he agrees. The swift candor makes her flinch, but she says nothing. “I went out to hunt,” he continues, “and found you. I thought it was better to take from a creature I was going to kill anyway than to take from you.”

She knows his blunt, honest words are meant to reassure her, but she can’t stop herself from trembling. 

“You’re frightened.” 

He’s still speaking softly, his tone gentle. She wonders if that is just his way, or if he speaks that way because he thinks doing so is less likely to frighten her. 

She looks back at him, trying to keep her heart from racing and her breathing even. “Was that a question?” She asks, knowing very well that it wasn’t. 

He doesn’t answer her right away. Instead, he inclines his head to gaze openly at her. There is no hostility in his expression, and it gives her the courage to study him right back. 

He is beautiful, this enigmatic man. He towers over her - not because he is using his body in an imposing way, but simply because he is so tall. She scans the broadness of his shoulders and the rounded peaks of muscle beneath his long-sleeved shirt… and suddenly it makes sense why he was able to carry her as though she weighed nothing.

But that isn’t the only reason why he’s so strong and you know it, her brain reminds her. If he is what you think he is, he has inhuman strength. 

She ignores the thought, bringing her gaze back up to rest on his face. Beautiful, she thinks again, taking in the features of his face. Dark lashes that fan out over pretty purple eyes. The sharp, handsome angle of his nose. The way his lips seem perfectly formed to fit his face. 

His eyes are kind. The thought comes to her, uninvited. She looks closer, wanting to prove that thought wrong. No… I was right the first time. His eyes are kind. 

He begins to close the distance between them in just a few strides. The closer he gets, the higher she lifts her chin in order to sustain the eye contact between them. Gentle tone and kind eyes aside, she will be damned if she allows herself to forget what he is. 

When he reaches up with one hand and draws it near to her face, she grits her teeth in an effort not to flinch. “I won’t hurt you,” he tells her, his voice soft. “It would be against my interests to do so.”

“How do I know that?”

His hand continues along its plotted course until his fingers make contact with her skin, cupping her cheek in his palm. She tries not to lean into his touch, but it’s difficult. He is warmer than she imagined he could be for what he is, and it has been so long since she’s felt the warmth of another person this way.

“You don’t,” he answers, the corners of his dark eyes crinkling as he offers her a smile that is just as warm as his hand. “But I hope you’ll trust me long enough to see the truth of it for yourself.”

She inhales - a small, shallow breath to remind herself that she is still alive. For whatever reason, he has seen fit to use his power to keep her around. Letting her breath out slowly, she shakes her head. “I don’t know enough about you to trust you.”

“I know.” He’s still smiling at her warmly. “I know you don’t.”

“I may never trust you.”

“I know that, too.” His smile never falters, but there is a flicker of sadness in his eyes. 

“Then why bring me here at all?” She knows it’s an unfair question; he saved her life, and she should consider herself lucky and be grateful that he intervened where he wasn’t obligated to. Having been snatched back from the precipice of the death she was so sure she would meet, she realizes that perhaps falling over the edge of that precipice wasn’t what she wanted at all. 

She shakes her head, struggling to find a way to rephrase her question and coming up empty. “I’m sorry.”

She isn’t sure why her words make him chuckle, and she’s even less sure why she finds herself wanting to make him laugh again. His laughter is warm, just like his eyes and his hand. It’s enticing, inviting. She’d like to hear more of it. 

“You don’t need to apologize,” he tells her, when his laughter has subsided. He strokes her cheek with his thumb. He reaches out with his other hand, gently holding her left wrist and running his fingers lightly over the bandages there. “I made you a promise.”

“A promise?” Confused, she scrunches her nose up. 

“A promise,” he repeats, but he elaborates no further.

Hesitation grips her, making her tongue thick and slow to respond. She lowers her head, her gaze on where his hand encircles her wrist. “Thank you,” she starts quietly, when she finds her voice again. She raises her chin so she can look directly into his eyes once more. “For saving me.”

He blinks at her, a beat of silence passing between them before he gives her a nod. She thinks perhaps he means to say something else, but he doesn’t. He drops his hand away from her face instead, and she laments the loss of its warmth. “You must be hungry,” he starts, turning away from her. “Let me fix you something to eat.”

Chapter Navigation 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

Chapter Three: Coming Soon

[ooihcnoiwlerh]

New chapter is up for my Feyd-Rautha/Reader fic. I'll provide the AO3 link here: And I Don't Want Your Heart - Chapter 3 - ooihcnoiwlerh - Dune (2021) [Archive of Our Own]

But if you'd prefer to read it here I can provide it under the cut. As you can imagine, there are trigger warnings for this fic in general as well as this chapter.

TW: arranged marriage, forced marriage, dubious consent, implied/referenced self-harm, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced incest, heavy violence, first times, rough sex, blood kinks, and of course Feyd-Rautha who is his own walking content warning.

If you haven't read my fic yet I do recommend reading the prologue and first chapter to get what's going on. It's all on AO3.

CHAPTER TWO: THE MOMENT YOU'VE BEEN DREADING

“It’s time, Na-Baroness.”

You turn to look at her.  She keeps her head down.  “We need to get you to your bedchambers to prepare,” she adds.

You take a breath.  He and everyone else need you to be living and healthy at least for the time being.  You’ll be able to manage whatever happens tonight, you tell yourself.

You give a small nod, reach for your goblet, and finish the contents in three big swallows before setting it down.

Your mother sees you get up and her eyes widen just a fraction.  You smile at her as you make a detour to wish your family a good night.

“I’ll see you in the morning for breakfast,” you tell your parents.  Afterwards all off-world guests will be going home, and you’ll have to deal with the fact that this desolate killing field of a planet is your home now.  You try not to think about how you probably won’t be seeing any of your family again until the next wedding or funeral as you give each of them a crushing hug.  When your younger sister hugs you back, you wonder if she’s thinking about her future, if she’s terrified that she’ll have an even worse match.

“You look beautiful, Y/N,” Father tells you as you pull away from his embrace.  When he looks at you, you can tell he’s thinking, I’d give anything right now for you to have been born a son.

“Thank you, Father,” you tell him, thinking, Come on, now.  You can’t put me up to this marriage in the first place and then act as though I’m going to my execution.  You need for them to have hope that you’ll be okay.  One of you has to believe that I can get through this.

You sense the Baron watching you.  You can feel his distaste at the open sentimentality but he doesn’t say anything, so it seems that he’ll allow it.  How kind of him, you think bitterly.

When you start to move past them your mother tugs at your wrist one last time and you turn to face her.  She doesn’t say anything, so you end up speaking for her.

“It’ll be alright,” you say softly, taking her hands.

She almost smiles, then swallows.  “I should be the one saying that to you,” she says.  You just give her a small smile of your own and kiss her cheek.  You end up letting go of her hands first, but it takes only the first tug for her to relinquish yours.  You resume your trek out of the Great Hall when you reach the head of the table and stop, remembering one last obligation before you go.

You need to pay your respects to the Baron first and it makes you hesitate.  You don’t want to talk to him, don’t want to look at him, don’t want to even think about him.  His nephew strikes fear in you, but there’s a kind of revulsion that the Baron inspires that is tangible even as you can’t quite explain it.  Even if you didn’t know his reputation as a bloodthirsty warmonger that makes your father seem like a pacifist by comparison, even though you’re sure that there’s more you haven’t discovered yet, even with the limited interactions you’ve actually had with him, he makes your skin crawl.  You step forward, eyes downcast, incline your head, and dip into the deepest curtsy you can manage in your gown.

“Thank you, Baron, for your gifts, your kind reception, and your hospitality,” you tell him.

After a pause he seems to think you’ve expressed an adequate amount of gratitude and says, “May you continue to please my lovely nephew,” he responds, voice low enough that your family won’t hear but the people next to him will.  He knows that you know what he means.

Contempt and shame war within you.  You refuse to look up at him.  “Yes, Baron,” you manage, face flushing.  Your hands shake.  You rise and turn away.  Idrisa’s there within arm’s reach to escort you out.

It’s a long stretch of silence to get from the Great Hall to the Harkonnen private chambers, but neither of you know quite what to say that you’d be willing to risk anyone hearing.

She guides you back into your bedchambers.  Once there, you stand in the middle of the room, frozen and useless.  “Will he want me in this?” you ask after a moment.  You picture him tearing the fabric of your underskirts, maybe slicing your bodice with one of his hidden blades.  It’s easy to picture him desecrating a symbol of your union.  It’s also easy to picture him simply pulling down your undergarment, bending you over the nearest flat surface, and debasing you as you’re still fully clothed.

Idrisa shakes her head.  “The Na-Baron had some specific requests.  He’d like you out of this,” she says.  “I’ll help you.”

She’s so gentle with her touch and the meticulous way she undoes your bodice and arranges your skirts that it unnerves you rather than soothes you.  It’s such a contrast to how you’re certain you’ll be touched as soon as you leave these chambers that you tremble at her fingertips.

“It’ll be alright,” she says softly.  “You and the union between the Houses is too important for him to seriously hurt you.”  You don’t miss the disclaimer of ‘seriously’.  You have nothing to say to that, only watching as she sets the gown back on the mannequin it arrived with and turns to you, in just your boots and undergarments.  

You sigh and take care of your boots and the stockings underneath as Idrisa reaches into your drawers for a chemise and robe.

“He wants you to take off your undergarments,” she says over her shoulder.

“Of course he does,” you mutter, working on those next, stripping down bare.  “For ‘ease of access.’”

“It’s not an unreasonable request,” Idrisa says mildly, taking your discarded clothes and handing you the chemise to put on.  “We’re almost done.”  She sets down a pair of slippers for you to step into and gives you your robe before taking a step back and taking inventory of you.  She tilts her head and bites her lip.

“Hair down, I think,” she says.  “Your make-up held up well, so we won’t need to reapply anything.”

“We could, you know.”  It’ll buy me some time to collect myself.  Although that isn’t entirely true; you’ll still be just as nervous an hour from now as you will be five minutes from now, and you both know it as Idrisa quietly arranges your hair into a style she thinks your groom will find suitable.

His chambers, as it turns out, are just next door.  “Thank you,” you tell her when you get inside.  It’s a large room, as austere as all the other rooms but the limited furniture within it is of high-quality.  A black armoire against the opposite wall with dressers and a desk and chair to match, and then of course the bed.  

It’s a massive four-poster with a steep headboard.  You can’t help but notice rings and hooks lining each bedpost.  You don’t think you’re ignorant by any means, considering your overall lack of experience, but you’re not sure what they could possibly mean.  In the next room you can faintly hear the sound of running water.

“The Na-Baron is finishing up in his bathroom.  He’ll be ready for you in just a moment,” Idrisa tells you, before reaching for your robe.  You instinctively move away, wanting the barrier between your skin and the suddenly oppressive air of an unfamiliar room.

She holds on, undeterred, to your sleeves.  “The Na-Baron said that he would have his wedding gift already unwrapped and in bed waiting for him,” she says apologetically.  

You think of your father’s words from days ago (“oiled and trussed up before being thrown into his bedroom”) and take a breath before shedding the robe and stepping out of your slippers yourself. You don’t look at Idrisa as you raise the chemise up and over your shoulders before tossing it to the floor and once you’re completely bare try to cover yourself with your arms as you take a few steps back.  It feels dumb; she’s already seen you naked and so will the man on the other side of the bathroom door in just a minute, but you want to hold on some semblance of modesty in this unfamiliar room.

Idrisa looks away as she picks everything up.  “I’ll leave you to your privacy, then,” she says.  

“I’ll be nearby,” she adds, folding your clothes and setting them on the dresser and the slippers on the floor just beside it.  She glances over at you one last time as if to say, Good luck, before turning and leaving.  The door clicks and you’re left in silence.  The water stops.

Better get moving, then, you think as you stare at the bed.  You wonder briefly what such an intimidating piece of furniture has seen over the years, and you’re honestly not sure how to present yourself once you reach it.  Do you lie on your back, like you’ve been told, is the civilized, kind manner in which to take a bride?

You think of the way your groom prowls, the way he kills.  He’s barely civilized and he’s certainly not kind; the animalistic way he moves and looks at you suggests that he’ll fuck you like an animal too, on all fours and without preamble, but the idea of getting into that position, of presenting yourself to him in such a way, makes you wince the moment you imagine it.

So you compromise and settle on your side, facing the bathroom entrance where he’ll soon emerge.

Your heart races as nearly a full minute ticks by before the door opens and Feyd-Rautha emerges, as naked as you are.

You try to stay composed and keep a sense of demure composure about you as you take inventory of him and what is meant to go inside of you tonight.  He is indeed smooth everywhere, and half-hard.  You digest the fact that even without a full erection, he's larger than the limited sample size you've witnessed.  You think that it’s kind of funny that he looks more powerful naked than he does in his armor, or even in his undergarments but to your relief he’s also as unarmed as he can possibly be.  And if this is to happen, it is a comfort knowing that it will be with a man whose body you find beautiful to look at.

His eyes drift over yours, mapping everything as he takes his fill,of the rest of your body.  “Have you ever taken a man inside of you?” he asks.

You shake your head and try not to let your nerves get the better of you as you wonder how much this is going to hurt.  He sees the fear in your eyes, though, as he crosses over and slides into bed alongside you without another word.  Your breath hitches, your heart pounding.  Not for the first time he makes you feel like a rabbit in a field.  It’s hard to reconcile that and the excitement within you; perhaps it’s adrenaline.

He slowly angles you to lay back as he props himself above you.  Your pulse thuds in your ears and you hear your own gasp as if it’s coming from somewhere else.

There’s a moment he’s looming above you, and you’re caught between fear and a growing heat between your legs, your nerves on end, before you surprise the both of you.  Without allowing yourself to think about it you lean up, cup the back of his head and pull him into a kiss.  This much you’ve done before, anyway.  You hope that it’ll help ease you into everything else.

It catches him off-guard, which gives you a brief sense of satisfaction, feeling like the playing field has been leveraged, before he kisses back.  He seems to like it, the hint of a challenge, and responds in turn by deepening the kiss and pressing his tongue into your mouth.  After a moment’s hesitation, unsure where to put your hands, you find that trailing them along his arms and back feels right.  

For the first minute it actually feels nice.  Then the first brush of the tip of his cock against your stomach makes you gasp.  You can feel him filling out the rest of the way and try not to look down.  It won’t help settle your nerves at all to see just how large it is when fully engorged.  The soft skin of it bumps against your bare stomach again before he shifts his legs so both are between yours, forcing you to spread your thighs around his hips.  He breaks the kiss and watches your face as he shifts one hand from beside your head to between his legs, taking himself in hand.

You clench your thighs and gasp, heart racing.  Without thinking you give a small cry when he guides his cock along your slit.  You feel stupid for it; he’s not even inside of you yet, but you can feel yourself seize up.

He pauses, as if trying to gauge something. Then he releases himself to slide his fingertips between the apex of your thighs instead.  Your chest heaves as you think about how you’re the only one who’s ever put a hand there, and even then only a few times.  You have enough time to think that you’ve never felt more helpless in your life before he brushes his fingers along your slit, all the more sensitive for the lack of hair, and then brings a thumb to the bud between your legs you only discovered for the first time a few years ago by accident.  He circles his thumb lazily, watching your stomach clench and your lips part in a gasp.  You shut your eyes, the intimacy of it already more than you could’ve anticipated.

“Look at me,” he says sharply, and you force your eyes open.  He tilts his head ever so slightly as his thumb presses down and your hips arch up.  You hold onto him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you bite your lip, trying to breathe normally.  He blinks as he takes in your reaction, his gaze traveling from your face to your hips before moving his hand, shifting his fingertips to your entrance.

The press of one finger inside of you is a stretch, unfamiliar but not unpleasant once you adjust to the feeling of being penetrated for the first time, and you want to look away, embarrassed at just how exposed you are to this man but as soon as you do, he repeats, irritated that he’d have to say it again, “Look at me.”

Your eyes snap back to his.  He curls his finger inside of you and your mouth falls open in a silent cry, your stomach clenching, and he tilts his head slightly, pulling his hand back to add a second finger alongside it, and this time the burn of it’s just a little too much.  You try to pull your hips back, face pinched in discomfort, and he gives a frustrated exhale as he tries twisting his fingers, only to get the same reaction.  He pulls his fingers out, and seems to think about what to do next.

He glances down at your chest, at your stiffened nipples, and lowers himself down onto his forearms, his head down to your breasts, teeth and tongue scraping against one, then the other.  As you whine and cradle the back of his neck you wonder if this is like a game for him, trying to see what noises he can pull from you where, and doing what, as he travels from one part of your body to another.  You try to collect your breath as he stops, traveling lower, his body sliding almost serpentine along the length of the bed and you can’t help but watch the muscles in his back and shoulders.

You briefly notice that there are old scars there that you hadn’t been able to see properly in the semi-darkness of the fighting halls.  They look like lash-marks that span from his shoulder blades to the tops of his buttocks.  But that’s the last coherent thought you have before Feyd-Rautha’s face disappears between your spread legs and you cry out, back arching at the first contact between his mouth and your lower lips.

You were expecting and fearing a lot tonight but hadn’t accounted for your groom licking your newly-shaved privates.  It’s shocking enough that it takes you a moment to understand how nice it feels.  You pant and squirm, your moans pulled out of you with each swipe of his tongue along your slit, each flicker of it against your bud.

“Oh!” you manage, incapable of saying anything else as your thighs shake and you wish he had hair that you could bury your fingers in as he laps at you.

When the heat of it really starts to build and your whines start sounding more desperate, the very core of you slick along his lips and tongue is when he stops.  It’s all a means to an end and as far as he’s concerned he’s done more than enough to prepare you. 

He ignores your whimper of protest as he pulls away and props himself up above you again, taking inventory of your flushed face and chest, your parted and kiss-swollen lips.

Good, you’re ready, he seems to think.  He lines himself up, and your breath hitches as you shut your eyes.

“Keep ‘em open,” he says immediately, and you relent, gazing up at a pair of eyes that glint nearly silver, pupils wide.

The blunt head of him is wide, and you realize that the preparation, his fingers and tongue, weren’t enough to ease the passage.  He’ll tear you open.  He watches your face and the growing panic in your eyes and presses forward.

Fear is the mind-killer.  It is the little–

The first press of him knocks the air out of your lungs in a sob.  You lurch up, clutching at his back as your inner thighs clench around his sides as he thrusts in the first couple of inches.  You squirm around him, shifting, hoping to get unstuck like you’re a worm on a hook.  He just pushes in deeper with a grunt, his hand clutching your hip to keep you still so he can bury himself within you the rest of the way.

It hurts, you want to protest, as if he can’t tell already.  As if he doesn’t enjoy how he’s skewering you onto him.

You’ve been in worse pain than this.  Remember when you broke your arm when you were nine?  If it weren’t for the fact that you’ve never felt more vulnerable in your life to the most frightening man you’ve ever met who–you hope–is now fully inside of you, you’d almost laugh.

Virgin sex: not as painful as breaking an arm.

You dig your nails in.  Feyd-Rautha gives a breathless laugh and a sharp thrust that has you crying out and digging your nails in deeper.

“Does my little pet want to get her claws in me?” he says, the first time he’s spoken in several minutes.  You try to relax your hands, just gripping onto his back.  “I didn’t say ‘stop,’” he adds.

He likes pain, the Reverend Mother told you.

Well, alright, then.

You grit your teeth and scratch down the length of his back.  He groans, a rumble deep in his chest before pulling out nearly to the tip of him and pushing all the way back in again.  It helps, in a way, the feeling of reciprocating the pain.  The difference is that you’re barely tolerating it, but he’s enjoying it.  He seems to like the pressure of your kneecaps digging into his sides, the nails down his back.

Curiosity strikes and you reach up and pull him down close enough to bite down on his collarbone and he gasps, hips stuttering for a moment, a moan pulled out of him before he resumes thrusting into you with deeper rolls of his hips.

You’re not sure when the moment happens that you start to adjust, the sting of it fading to a sore stretch.  You still feel impossibly full, but the ache of it feels like a minor tear, not like you’ve just been split in half.  

It’s soon after that he draws the first real moan out of you since before he entered you and it gives you pause; the stroke of his hips had been just right, you’d tilted yours in just a way that actually felt good in a way that tugged at your insides.  After a moment he tries again and you can’t help but make the same noise, holding onto him as the push and pull of his thrusts finally starts to feel right, like an act that’s natural rather than a punishment.

It’s then that he pulls out, and you yelp in shock; you were only starting to get adjusted to having him inside of you and he hasn’t spilled his seed yet.  You barely have time to understand what’s happening as he flips you onto your front and hauls you up, grabbing your hips.

It feels like another invasion, the angle tighter.  You won’t be able to hold onto him or take your pain out on him.  You scramble to get your forearms under you as he well and truly starts fucking you.  You hadn’t realized that he’d been holding back at all.

You do realize, though, that he not only tolerates your hair but likes it, when he wraps your tresses around his hand and sharply tugs like your hair’s a harness.  You can’t help any of the desperate noises that you make, shaking, as you’re repeatedly pulled back onto his cock.  The heat of tears builds in your eyes as you lower your head, only for him to tug it back by your hair. 

You give another cry, which spurs him on.  Pleasure, pain, it seems like it’s all the same to him so long as he can keep pulling desperate sounds out of you.  He speeds up, goes harder, the snap of his hips against your ass loud to the point of obscene within the echoes of his room.

And then you feel it, warm and viscous inside of you as he gives a choked moan, grunting as he thrusts into you one last time and holds still, his hands still on your hips.  You gasp, freezing, before moaning even though you're not entirely sure if you like the sensation of it or not.

You feel him pull away from you and twist onto your back, your legs bent to avoid colliding with him, as he kneels on the edge of the bed and wipes his bloody cock off on the sheets.

You catch your breath as you bring a hand against your forehead, trying to think.

It’s done; you got through it. 

He turns to look at you, at your parted lips, your breasts rising and falling as your breath evens out, your inner thighs where a small smear of blood remains, and wordlessly brings a thumb to the tacky skin there.

You blink, eyes widening as he looks you in the eye and licks off the already-drying blood.  He tilts his head, still looking between your legs, when his fingertips slide against your slit, collecting both a little blood and a dribble of his seed that leaked out of you.  Without a word he settles back over you and brings his fingers to your lips.

You try to think about what he’d want from you at this moment, and all that comes to mind is to mirror him.  You try to shut out the part of you that feels revulsion at the sight and the smell and part your lips.  

You can’t look away from him as he presses the calloused pad of his thumb on your lips and pushes further, onto your tongue.  You want to flinch away at the salt of your blood mixed with the viscous salt of his seed, but with his other hand he cups your jaw.  His movements could be seen as gentle and if he were a different man this act could be seen as intimate, but no, not with him.  He’s trying to humiliate you, you’re sure.  Because he then says, quietly, “Close your mouth,” and you hesitate, face heating up with shame, before you do.

For a moment you want to pull back and spit the mixture back out into his face.  There must be a flicker of that want in your eye because he tilts his head in a silent challenge.

Go on.  Try it, he seems to say.

You want to, but you do the opposite, the new goal to be to catch him off-guard again.  You force yourself to taste the residue from both of your bodies off his fingers.  You lick delicately around the digits and watch his eyes widen just a fraction.  You do it again, slowly, realizing that you’ve surprised him again.

He pulls his fingers out, his full lips parted.

“Don’t swallow,” is all he says before crushing his mouth against yours. 

You didn’t think you were ignorant, but you don’t fully understand what this is, what it’s called, why he’s enjoying it so much.  It’s a tool you think you might have but don’t have any frame of reference for and aren’t sure how to use as he groans as the liquids merge between you in a desperate open-mouthed kiss.  You just know that you’re learning enough to keep him interested.  He lays fully against you, and you have enough time to think that his chest feels nice pressed up against yours before he reaches in between your legs to feel the puffy, bruised apex where he’d buried himself.

Is he already getting aroused again?  

You get your answer when he flips you onto your stomach for the second time and pulls your hips up just enough for him to settle behind you.  For a moment you lurch forward, away from his grip but of course he pulls you back.  Alarm sets in.  I need time.  I’m still recovering from the first time you split me open.  You hear yourself whine as he slides his rapidly-stiffening cock in between your tender folds as if to plead for his mercy.  He doesn’t grant it, moaning at the desperate sound.  You realize that he’s working himself the rest of the way in his own hand before pressing it back up against you and pushing inside of you in one sharp thrust.

In some ways it’s easier; you’re sufficiently stretched out at this point to take him inside of you, and the combination of blood and semen’s added second and third coats of lubrication.

But then he’s rougher; there’s no preamble, no brief moments of letting you adjust to the intrusion.  He goes hard and fast on your torn and bruised insides, and this time he doesn’t say a word.  All you hear are beast-like grunts as he pulls you onto him.

Just finish.  Please just finish and get it over with, you think as your cries become hoarse, and then nothing more than pathetic whimpers.  That in itself seems to spur him on, how much he’s wearing you out and taking you to the very limits of what you can handle. 

You collapse the rest of the way onto your front, panting and sweaty, and you shut your eyes when you can sense he’s almost done, shuddering as his thrusts become more erratic and he finally–thankfully–comes, filling you up a second time and you could cry with the relief of it.

He holds on for a moment, as if trying to make sure as much of him as possible stays inside of you as he settles down, his front against your back, his breath against the nape of your neck.  And then he pulls out and you wonder if this is how it feels when a person who’s just been stabbed feels the knife leave their body right before you sense him turn and fall onto his back against the sheets.

You remain on your front,  the side of your face resting on your forearm as you just don’t have it in you to move again.  You just hope that Feyd-Rautha’s finally done for the night.  You turn your head to the other side to look at him and confirm.

His penis looks a lot less intimidating when it’s soft and resting against his thigh.  You watch his chest rise and fall and briefly think about running a hand over it, and long the ridges of his abdomen even as you can’t say you’re proud of yourself for the instinct.  He just seems almost docile now, reclining on his back, after he’s rutted inside of you twice. It's almost like wanting to pet a sedated dog that had been trying to bite you.  You watch him raise one leg slightly, enough to bend his knee, and you notice more scars along his inner thigh that are even paler than the rest of him.  They don’t look recent, but not as old as the ones on his back.

He turns his head and looks at you, and reaches out, bringing a hand to your backside, lazily caressing a cheek before bringing his palm down in a hard smack.  He smirks at how the soft flesh jiggles and at your responding yelp.

“It was right there,” he says by way of explanation.  You’re tired enough that you can’t help but snicker as you keep your head pillowed on your forearms and try to focus on the softness of the sheets under you rather than the unrelenting ache between your legs.  You look at each other, him likely surveying the damage as you catalog him in what is probably the closest he ever gets to a relaxed state.

“Can you stand?” Feyd-Rautha asks after a moment.

You’re not entirely sure you can move your legs.  “In a moment, maybe,” you admit.

“Then take a moment,” he says.  “Then you can call your girl to take you back to your quarters.”

You get up on your forearms to get a better look at him.  “You’re sending me away?” you ask.  You don’t mean the hurt tone in your voice.  Not that you even want to stay the night, but his dismissal feels insulting.  You’re the one whose insides are sore and bleeding, after all.  Is he not even going to give you more time to recover and just relax here?  Maybe kiss you one last time?  

“It’s more practical if I do,” he says.  “I’ll be up a few hours before you tomorrow.”  His tone is so matter-of-fact that any trace of intimacy over the past couple of minutes dissipates into thin air and you remember who you’re with.

“Right.”  You look over at your clothes on the dresser.  You wince at the effort, but turn to your side and sit up facing away from him.  You can feel his stare burning into your back.

You wince as you sit forward and try to get your limbs to coordinate with you as you shift your legs.

You look down at the sheets and wonder if Feyd-Rautha’s going to have someone come in to clean them immediately after you leave.

No, you realize.  He’ll have someone come in to put down new ones, certainly, but he’ll be holding on to the bloodied sheets.  They’ll serve as a trophy, proof that he deflowered the heiress to the House of Y/H.

You don’t look back at your new husband as you get up, shakily at first, needing to hold onto the bed to stabilize you.

You need to walk gingerly, and the feel of Feyd-Rautha watching your discomfort makes it worse.  You feel tears build again, this time from anger.  You think to yourself that you might’ve been able to handle everything else tonight better if he were a little kinder to you afterwards, and gave you something to temper the roughness as he’d prepared you beforehand.  And here he is smugly watching the pain you’re in because of him, congratulating himself on how he wrecked your virgin cunt.

This is fucking undignified.  I’m part of a Major House, too, you think as you pull on your chemise and step into your slippers.  Finally you’ve decided that you’re not going to let this insult pass and turn to him.  He’s sitting up, his knees drawn up and his arms wrapped loosely around them as he watches you and that somehow makes it even worse.  “Is this amusing for you?” you demand, thinking, Of course it is, you stupid girl.  He and his kind get off on this sort of thing.

He looks neither embarrassed nor smug, but leans forward a little as he considers you.  “You did well tonight,” he says. 

“Thank you, Na-Baron,” you say coldly as you reach for your robe.  

“I like it when you call me husband,” he adds, and you glance back at him.  “That’s what you should call me when we’re alone together.”

You look at him a moment longer.  You realize that this is just about the closest he can get to being kind to you, at least tonight.  Whatever tenderness he’d shown when he first touched you was to serve his own purpose.  Now that he’s taken what he wants there’s nothing else to give you.  It’s not even intentional cruelty on his part, you don’t think.  It’s just the absence of everything else.

With a resigned sigh you pull on your robe and give him a curt nod.  “I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow, husband,” you tell him, pad over to the door, and open it just far enough to see Idrisa standing post just outside.  You head into the hallway and shut the door behind you without another word or glance backwards.

“How much of that were you able to hear?” you ask her.  

She tries to spare you.  “The walls are thick, Na-Baroness,” she says, and you’re even more grateful for the short distance to your chambers than you’d been before.

At your bedside you notice that there’s a jug of water and a glass, then beside them a dish.  You head for it to inspect closer and it turns out there are two small white tablets.  You turn to look at her.

Idrisa shrugs one shoulder.  “Part of the benefits of being promoted to your attendant,” she says.  “I felt it would be safer to take precautions and assume you’d need pain relief after…” she trails off, realizing there is no polite way to say getting fucked hard for the first time by a man who delights in your pain and just repeats, “after.  I spoke with a Healer who agreed that it would be safer to plan for that.”

As you reach for a tablet she adds quickly, “I wouldn’t take more than half if I were you.”

You pause, the tablet to your mouth.  “Why?” you ask.

She hesitates.  “I wasn’t sure how severe your pain would be afterwards,” she says.  “I really didn’t know how to predict so I requested two tablets.  Looking at you now, half a tablet should suffice.”

You look down at the dish and then back at her.  Just how badly did you think tonight would go for me? you want to ask, but then realize that there are some questions you don’t actually want answers to.  

You smile at her in gratitude, snap the tablet in half, and wash it down with the offered water.  “Will it help me sleep?” you ask.

She inclines her head in the affirmative.  “Now let’s get you cleaned up and ready for bed,” she says.  

“It’s alright.  I can handle the rest myself,” you tell her.

Her brow furrows and she frowns.  “It’s my duty to look after you,” she says.  

“I understand, but right now I need to be alone,” you tell her.

She looks nervous, as if her dismissal is some kind of failure on her part and something for which she’ll be punished later.

“You’ve done a great job,” you tell her.  “But the best way to take care of me tonight is to let me do this myself.”

“Whatever you wish, Na-Baroness,” she says finally.  “Good night, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

……………..

You pad over to the bathroom and a minute later find yourself sitting on the edge of your bathtub with a warm, wet towel in one hand as you inch up the hem of your chemise with the other.  

You wince at the first press of the towel against your tender skin.  You don’t want to look directly at the damage, wishing you still had hair down there to obscure some of it.  You shut your eyes as you wipe around your inner thighs.  You wipe directly between your legs and the sharp bite of the pain makes you briefly double over.  After a moment you look down at the used towel; there’s not as much blood as you thought, as it feels like it was spilled out of you, but you’re going to have to wring it out and start over if you want to feel clean.  Maybe you won’t feel clean again.

The reality of it all hits you, sharply, and you feel like you’ve been stabbed and a part of you realizes that the worst is yet to come.

For the first time since finding out you would be linked to Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, you break down and cry.

[superficialdomina]

Unwrapped

A secret Santa gift for @glitchquake ❤️❤️

Summary: An Avenger/Time Lord!Loki x fem!reader, friends-to-lovers, fluffy/smutty one-shot.

My masterlist

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: 18+; minors DNI! Explicit smut, PIV, oral sex (f receiving). A smidgen of angst.

Author's Note: Darling @glitchquake, merry Christmas!! 🎄🎄🎁🎁I had so much fun with this prompt and with weaving in some little Easter eggs (or should they be candy canes!?!!) just for you. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed creating it.

And another thank you to the wonderful @fictive-sl0th for arranging this terrific Secret Santa. I was so glad to be a part of it!! (Readers, you can find the Secret Santa 2023 Master List here).

Prompt: Walking in and seeing Loki wrapped in nothing but red ribbon under the Christmas tree and then you two do the do.

It had turned into a perfect Christmas decorating party. The smell of baking gingerbread filled the Tower common room, Mariah Carey was belting out the chorus to All I want for Christmas, and Nat was at this very moment balanced precariously on the top of a high-backed chair to add a glittery star to the apex of Stark's 12-foot Christmas tree. The rest of you had been happily adorning the tree - and the common room - for several hours, with all manner of baubles, candy canes, lights, and tinsel. Someone had made an early batch of eggnog, and a holiday buzz hung excitedly in the room.

You were humming along to Wham’s Last Christmas, when you caught Loki’s figure entering the room. He looked as disdainful as ever, although on this occasion, an air of skepticism coloured his general standoffishness.

“What,” he asked, distastefully running his fingers over the pink and green lights, “is this about?”

“It’s December 1st, Loki!” you beamed at him, ignoring his curmudgeonly attitude and generously wrapping a spare length of sparkly tinsel around his shoulders. “It’s a Christmas decorating party!”

Loki frowned, but a smirk lingered at the edges of his mouth; your enthusiasm was difficult to curb at the worst of times, and often proved infectious. He began to say something – probably characteristically barbed – before he spotted the small pile of gifts under the tree. “And tell me, darling - what are those?”

“Christmas gifts from Little Miss Festive over here,” Tony cut in, gesturing towards you with the glass of eggnog in his hand before thrusting it upon Loki. “There’s even one for you, Horns.”

Loki narrowed his eyes and turned to you, looking mildly suspicious. “What is it?”

“I’m not telling you, Loki!” You purse your lips in mock admonishment. “You can wait until Christmas eve like everyone else!”

“Why?” Loki asked.

“Tradition,” you said, with an air of finality that put an end to any further argument.

The tower’s Christmas eve party was in full swing. Tony’s fancy stakeholder party, full of elegant hors d’oeuvres and flowing champagne, had happened a few days earlier; to your relief, tonight’s event included only the live-in members of the Tower, with a few bonus loved ones here and there. It was delightfully warm and friendly. Thor was beaming widely at everyone around him, and he had not taken off the chunky red pompom beanie you had made him since he’d unwrapped it several hours earlier. Even Loki seemed to be enjoying himself.

“Congratulations on acing your finals, darling,” he had murmured to you when he first arrived. You’d looked at him in confusion; you’d finished your end-of-term exams only a few days ago, and you didn’t expect to know the results for several weeks.

“How do you- Loki, I haven’t even heard-“

“Oh, just something I picked up around the Timelines,” he added with a wink, as understanding finally dawned on you. If only my future-self had also been brave enough to tell him I’m madly in love with h-

But you wouldn’t think about that tonight. You’d been having such a wonderful time; for your first Christmas with the Avengers, you couldn’t have felt more at home. Yes, you were a little blue about your unrequited-love situation, but you were determined to focus on how lucky you were to be here. What wonderful friendships you had built this year! How magical it felt to be included, to belong! No, it wouldn’t do to dwell on the one thing, that one little thing…

Making gifts for your new chosen family had been so much fun. In addition to Thor’s beanie (which was now looking somewhat askew on his blonde head), you’d made long, checkered scarfs for Steve and Tony, a pretty maroon shawl for Wanda, and a pair of cute boot-cuffs for Nat. They’d all made very kind ooh-ing noises as they’d each unwrapped their little hand-made gifts from under the tree.

But the project that you were the most proud of was the gift you’d made for Loki: a pair of unbelievably soft, dark-green, fingerless gloves. You had worked incredibly hard on them. It had been slow and painstaking; the soft merino wool was so fine, and the needles so small, they made your hands cramp. The intricate cable-knit pattern you had learned specifically for this project was complicated, and you had pulled out your stitches on multiple occasions in the name of perfection. You only hoped that he would enjoy them. Speaking of which…

“Loki!” Thor boomed suddenly, grabbing the attention of most of the room. “Brother, there is a still a gift under the tree for you!”

Loki’s eyes darted to you, and he gave you a charming smile as he knelt down to pick up the small package. He unwrapped it gently, tentatively peeling back the brightly patterned paper until he held the gloves in his hands. You realized you were holding your breath as you waited for his response.

Loki didn’t look up; he traced the detailed curves of cable knit with one finger. “How – you made these? They’re… How are they so soft?”

You felt your face warming. “Made with love!” you joked, loosely patting his shoulder and laughing. But your laugh was cut short as you saw a look pass over Loki’s face. Oh no.

“Oh, haha – I don’t mean Love love,” you continued quickly. “You know, you’re my friend – friends. All of you. And I- you know, I love you - all.” The end of your sentence was lost in Thor’s smothering embrace, with generous hear-hears from the rest of the team as they chinked glasses and went back to their holiday chatter.

Loki had stood, but he continued to stare down at the open package in his hand. Did he not want them? What was wrong with them? Damn it, you cursed yourself, you should have just gotten him something simple! You didn’t mean the gloves to be any sort of grand gesture… You would never! Stupid. Why didn’t you just get him a cool iPhone case? Because he wouldn’t use it, you admitted to yourself, and anyway, what was wrong with giving your friends nice things and telling them that they were important to you? Nothing, you thought defiantly, and if Loki’s going to be all suspicious and grouchy about it then he can go –

But before you could open your mouth to give Loki the small lecture you were working up to, he had taken three long strides to the common room door and disappeared out into the hallway.

You were astonished. He just left?! Goddamn him and his shitty communication skills! If he’s that upset, he could at least talk to you about it. You talk to him about everything! Maybe that’s the problem, a cold voice muttered inside your head. You’d finally crossed over into “too much”. As usual.

No. No way. This wasn’t fair - he couldn’t just be mad at you and not even give you the chance to explain. Fuck it, you were going to fix this.

You followed Loki into the hall, but by the time you got through the crowded common room, he was well and truly in the lift. You furiously pressed the call button, repeatedly, even though you knew it wouldn’t make a difference to the speed of the damn thing. You watched the digital numbers slowly tick up to the 26th floor.

Finally, after an achingly slow ascent, you made it to Loki’s rooms and banged hard on his door.

“Loki!” you shouted through it. “Open up! You have to talk to me! You have to –"

The door was apparently unlocked; it swung open at your aggressive knocking, and you tentatively stepped into the darkened apartment.

“Loki?” you called, as you walked through the quiet rooms. You were sure he was here – you’d seen the elevator stop on this floor. And besides, where else would he go? “Loki! Loki, please, you have to talk to me. Please don’t be mad. You don’t have to wear them. You don’t even have to keep them. Goddammit Loki, where are you?” you almost shouted the last, as you pushed open his bedroom door.

You were immediately silenced by the sight in front of you.

Loki’s enormous, indulgent bed was decorated extravagantly in Christmas décor. Fairy lights tangled with fresh boughs of fir tree were entwined through the posts, dotted here and there with tiny silver baubles and bright red holly berries. Like a Christmas tree, you thought, mesmerized.

Loki sat underneath the elegantly twisted branches, leaning back against the ornate headboard, his head resting cheekily on one fist as he waited casually for you to spot him. One of his eternally long legs was crossed over the other at the knee.

He was wearing nothing but his trademark smirk and a modestly positioned bright red bow.

“Hello, darling,” he said softly. “Merry Christmas. I hope you like the gift I got you?”

“Loki, I- what? What is going on? How did you – you were barely minutes in front of me! How did you get into this getup so fast?”

Loki’s fingertips gave a little green crackle. Oh. Of course.

“Aren’t you going to unwrap it?” he asked darkly, his cocky smirk even wider.

“I…” Don’t analyse this too much, you told yourself, as you woodenly moved towards him. You reached out an arm to try to pull at the bow, but of course, with him perched in the centre of his enormous bed, you couldn’t quite reach; you lifted one knee onto the mattress, arm still outstretched for the bow… then the other…

Before you realized what was happening, Loki had taken your hands in his and pulled you towards him. He was sitting upright, and he gazed intently into your face, his eyes darting between yours as he quietly murmured to you. “Is this alright?”

You nodded dumbly. Alright? It was everything you had ever wanted – Loki, naked and stretched out before you like a banquet, with a comically large red bow hiding his –

Your eyes widened as you abruptly spotted exactly what the ribbon had been concealing; beneath it, Loki was rock hard. You caught yourself involuntarily wetting your lips with your tongue.   

The low, flickering glimmer cast by the Christmas lights was beautifully romantic, and you felt yourself melt into him as he gently pushed your hair behind your ear, cradling your head in his large hands and firmly pulling your face towards him. His mouth found yours, and your heart beat madly in your chest as he kissed you for the first time.

In all your wildest imaginings, it could never have been like this. His kiss was firm, but his lips were as soft as dew; the tongue gently exploring your mouth was skilled, but tender. Your hands reached for his hips, at last meeting the loose end of the red ribbon and pulling the bow free. Without breaking his kiss, he carefully laid you back on his bed.

Loki’s long, muscled body was now kneeling before you, his lean, strong thighs holding him steady above you as he used his hands to caress your body. It was more sensual that you had even been touched… had ever even dreamt of being touched. As rushes of hot, vivid lust reached every part of your skin, every drop of your blood, you realized you had also never felt so… so safe.

Loki pulled away from you, his perfect torso towering above you as he knelt between your legs. He gazed at you longingly as he slid a hand under each of your thighs. “May I?” he asked throatily.

“Yes,” you murmured, your voice a bare whisper.

Loki didn’t hesitate, almost falling into you as he dipped his head to place his strong, clever tongue upon you. The bliss was immediate and exquisite. You felt yourself writhe under him, heard yourself whimper and moan as he deftly played his fingers over you, in you; every place he found to touch or kiss you came as the perfect note in the perfect order. In the few moments you allowed yourself to open your eyes, you were met with the beautiful scene of Christmas romance he had created above you… Created for you…

His fingers curled gently, knowing the speed and rhythm you needed, and you let him lead you on towards the sweet release he promised you. Your fingers found his raven hair and twisted their way into it, not meaning to pull, but inevitably losing control as he pushed you closer. He moaned wantonly as you tugged.

That was all he needed to pull you over the edge into orgasmic oblivion. You came hard, crying out, pulling his hair again in time with the unconscious pulsing of your pelvic floors. He didn’t stop, pulling you onwards, sucking and licking and pumping as your body continued to convulse, until you cried out again, pulling him away from you as the sensation became too much.

When you opened your eyes to see him above you, he was gazing at you hungrily.

“Loki…” you almost sobbed.

He brought his perfect, sculpted body close to yours; he expertly guided himself to you, the wetness generated by the magnificent orgasm he had given you allowing him to glide into you with ease, despite his generous girth. And when he was settled in you, fit so perfectly inside you, he finally gave in. With a deep growl, he began to move.

“Faster,” you moaned, begging him, needing him to give you more. The stretch you felt as your body accommodated him was magnificent.

His hands still roamed your body; his impressively sensitive touch finding pleasure in your pleasure. His beautiful dark curls hung sluttishly about his sharp face, loose and wild. With eyes closed, his thrusts messy, he chased release above you, until with a sharp groan, he came.

He took a few moments to compose himself, drawing in deep breaths, before opening his eyes to meet yours. In a single movement, he rolled to his side, slipping out of you and easily enfolding you in his long, strong arms, your back to his broad torso. Your chest began to rise and fall in time with his.

With a difficulty that was only partially due to the weight of his arm across you, you pulled yourself away from his chest and turned to face him.

“Loki - what happened? I followed you up here because I thought you were furious with me. Why did you leave in such a rush after you opened my gift? You didn’t like the gloves?”

“My darling,” Loki purred, pulling you tightly back into him. “I adore them. They are utterly perfect.” He gave a dramatic little sigh, and his fingertips traced invisible patterns on your back. “When I opened them, I was overwhelmed with gratitude and wonder. That you would give me something so beautiful… So me… The hours you must have spent meticulously crafting them. And then, that you did it for love…”

“Actually, I said with love,” you laughed.

His fingertips froze their pretty movements on your skin, and you looked up to see his face ashen. “Oh no! No, Loki, don’t be sad. I did… I mean, I do…”

You took a deep breath, and decided, finally, that honesty was the best policy.

“Loki, I do love you. I cherish you. I want to gift you a pair of green knit mittens every Christmas for as long as you’ll accept them.” You paused nervously. “But if you don’t- I mean, if you want to stay friends, I’ll… I’ll be OK… with that-“

“Dear heart,” he murmured into your hair, idly picking at the shreds of red ribbon strewn about you both. “I think we are a bit beyond that. Don’t you?”

“Well…” You chuckled again. “I guess so, yeah.”

Loki gently tucked a finger under your chin, pulling your face towards him so that he could lightly kiss you mouth. “Merry Christmas, my darling.”

“Merry Christmas, Loki.”

Secret Santa taglist

@joyful-enchantress @mochie85 @muddyorbs @holdmytesseract @sailorholly @lady-rose-moon @cultofcarter @coldnique @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @smolvenger @loz-3 @catsladen @lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @divine-knight-hand @quirkiest-turtle @glitchquake @nyxlaufeyson @fandxmslxt69 @holymultiplefandomsbatman

[axelsagewrites]

Daemon Targaryen*Dessert

Sugar Baby Series Part 4.5 smut edition

Part one - Part two - Part Three

Pairings: Daemon x f!reader

Summary: Daemon and the reader finally decide to add a new level to their relationship

Warnings: teasing, p in v sex, fingering, f!receiving oral, smut 18+

This can be read with or without reading the rest of the series and if you voted to not have smut you can completely skip this part without affecting the plot. The rest of part four is linked at the bottom

Word count: 1886

Masterlist Here

“I’m sorry I know this isn’t what you were expecting- “you tried to tell Daemon as you sat across the dining table from him.

“I love it,” Daemon cut you off, smiling as he took another bite of the spaghetti you had made together. Cooking hadn’t gone dreadful however you knew it was far below the standards of his regular food. “I liked cooking with you, it was fun,” he said.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little. He had tried his best, but this man had never even boiled his own water before today. He tried to use a large broth pot to fit the spaghetti until you explained that it went soft in the boiling water. It was cute to watch his amazement when he learned canned tomatoes don’t spoil and that you put a little sugar into the sauce. “We should do it again then,” you smiled at him from across the table.

It was the first house you’d been in that had a whole separate room for eating. Being in daemons house for the first time shouldn’t have shocked you as much as it had but every inch of the place screamed luxury. The windows went from floor to ceiling and the ceilings would be too high for even Cregan to touch if he had a running jump. The kitchen was impeccable, white, and sleek and half of the dining room was made out of glass. Daemon found your awestruck expression adorable when he had let you inside.

Once the food was finished you stood up to carry the plates to the kitchen, daemon just behind you. “Sorry we don’t have any dessert,” you said as you started running the tap.

“You’re my guest, I’ll get this,” Daemon said as he took the plates out your hand to clean, “and you apologise too much darling,” Daemon said as he let the water run over the plate. You watched his movements, wondering if he even knew what he was doing, “I know how to wash a dish doll,” Daemon said as he rolled his eyes and looked down at the dish, “Well I think at least,” he said squinted at the still sauce stained plate.

You leaned over the counter, grabbing the dish liquid and squirting a little onto the plate. “Ahh,” Daemon said as he took the sponge you passed him and started to actually clean the dish, “See told you I got this,”

“Well done love,” you laughed, moving to stand behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty,” you joked. 

“Careful now,” Daemon said as he sat the plate to the side to wash the next, “you’re starting to sound like me,”

“Would that be so bad?” you asked as you moved to dry the dish he had sat on the counter. You took the opportunity to sit on the counter and sneak a glance at his face which somehow looked even more handsome in this light.

Daemon chuckled as he continued his newfound skill with ease, though he used more dish soap than most, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to seduce me doll,” he said, his eyes flickering over to you if only for a moment.

You paused for a moment, placing the dish down in the drying rack, “Maybe I am,” you said, eyes locked on daemons face.

Daemon looked up from the dishes for a moment before moving to stand in front of you, taking the cloth from your hands to dry his as he stood between your legs, “I thought you said we didn’t have any desert?” he asked, his voice low as his hands moved to your thighs, squeezing the flesh softly over your new satin dress that did little to hide your figure, not that daemon minded.

Your arms moved to rest over his shoulders, hands dangling down his strong back. You tilted your head and pursed your lips before giving a teasing smirk, “I lied,” you said, your hands moving to rest on his neck, “And what are you gonna do about it?” you said, desperate to provoke him into closing the gap.

Daemon stepped in closer, his eyes darkening as they met yours. “You really are a little minx aren’t you doll?” he said but before you could answer his lips crashed down onto yours. his hands snaked behind your waist, pulling you forward and flush against his chest.

You weren’t sure what was coming over you as your fingers searched for the buttons of his shirt, frantically unbuttoning them. Daemons hands slid down your waist to your ass, grabbing at its flesh over your dress. When you finally got the last button down your hands were finally able to slide up his abs, feeling the toned muscle properly for the first time.

“Here?” Daemon mumbled against your lips. “Are you sure?”

“Fuck yes,” you muttered, your hands reaching to undo his belt as your lips crashed onto his again. Daemon meanwhile pushed the fabric of your dress up, pulling at it till he was able to get it over your hips. His hands slid under the fabric, finally able to grab your ass properly.

You managed to undo the belt and it didn’t take long for you to undo his button and zip. You could see his bulge through his black boxers. Daemon gripped your hip, sliding you forward on the counter till his bulge was pressing into you, grinding it into your still clothed cunt. your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

“I’ve dreamt of this,” Daemon said, his hands pawing at your skin. “Fucking you in every room in this house,”

“Why stop there?” You smirked.

“You’re killing me doll,” Daemon groaned as he pulled out of your grip. He laughed at your whine as he quickly crossed the room the grab his jacket, he’d left on the kitchen island. “Patience love,”

“I’ve already been patient,” you pouted, leaning forward to watch what he was doing. You chuckled when you saw him pulling a condom out his jacket pocket, “Someone was hopeful,” you joked.

Daemon quickly crossed the room, “Someone needs to shut their pretty mouth,” he growled, pulling you in for a brief and needy kiss that left you whining when he pulled away, “Now who’s desperate,” daemon chucked as he pulled out his cock, handing you the condom to put on him. you opened the condom before grabbing the base of his cock, stroking it gently a couple times making daemon groan, before you quickly slid it on. “Sure, about this doll face?” Daemon asked, grabbing your hip with one hand and his cock in the other.

“Just fuck me already,” you said, your legs wrapping around his waist to try pull him in as your hands moved to hold his shoulders.

“I’m not just going to fuck you doll,” he said with a light chuckled, resting his forehead against yours as he lined his tip up with your entrance. Your breath caught when you felt him start to push in, his cock stretching you out slowly at first as he eased in. “I’m going to fucking ruin you,” he said, his fingers digging into your hips as his cock sunk all the way in. You almost whimpered at the feeling, but it was cut off by gasps as Daemon started to set a relentless steady pace.

His head fell down, hanging in the crook of your shoulder, mumbling obscenities. your hands slipped down his back, almost clawing at the soft skin but the scratches only seemed to spur daemon on. he started sucking harsh marks into your soft skin, kissing over them once satisfied, “Mine,” he mumbled against your skin, “All mine,”

“All yours,” you moaned in agreement, a knot bubbling in your stomach.

you whined when daemon pulled out of you but didn’t have time to argue as he pulled you off the counter. his hands grabbed your hips tightly, spinning you around. one strong hand on your back pushed you down, your face against the cold counter. “You want my cock?” he asked, his voice dark and husky.

“Please,” you whined, practically begging already.

daemon chuckled as he grabbed your hips, spanking your ass, before you felt the tip of his cock sink back into your aching cunt. His pace was messier than before but just as desperate, “You take me so well doll,” Daemon groaned, hand hands going between squeezing and spanking your ass. “So good for me,” you felt one of his hands move down your hip, moving to your front and finding your clit within moments. daemon rubbed fast circles on the sensitive bud.

you could feel your stomach tightening and you did not to stop the shameless moans falling from your lips. you could feel his cock start to twitch inside, your cunt squeezing around it, making daemon groan. with two last, deep thrusts, you felt daemon stiff behind you. for a moment you were disappointed when you felt him pulling out, your orgasm so close had now almost washed away, when you felt his fingers start to run up your slit.

“What are you doing?” you stuttered out, trying to turn to see him but daemon pressed you back down.

“Just let me take care of you love,” Daemon said, his fingers teasing your entrance, “relax,” he told you but you whined when you felt his fingers slip in, “So wet for me,” he praised, his fingers beginning to curl inside of you, his thumb rubbing slow circles onto your clit.

you heard him moving before you felt his hot breath fanning your wet cunt. “Please,” you whimpered, the knot from before quickly reappearing.

daemon shushed you gently before moving his thumb, placing a soft kiss over your clit. you moaned when you felt him begin to press wet kisses to the sensitive bud, his fingers curling inside you. “Such pretty noises,” Daemon whispered, just loud enough for you to here, before he started to gently suck on your clit.

you could feel your body practically light on fire, shivers going down your spine, as his tongue worked wonders, his fingers never stopping. your orgasm was quickly approaching but when daemon lightly grazed your clit with his teeth it crashed over your body in a wave, loud moans leaving your mouth which only encouraged daemon to keep going. he made you right out your orgasm on his tongue till you were a panting mess on the counter.

finally, daemon pulled away, standing behind you to catch his breath. his hands gently took your shoulders, helping you to stand. when you did your legs felt like jelly, your stance swaying. daemon wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you to lean your back into his chest. “Take it easy princess,” he said, kissing the top of your head, “you were so good,” he mumbled, “Let’s go sit down yeah?” daemon said but it wasn’t a question as he helped lead you to his living room, leading you to the plush sofa.

Daemon guided you to lay on the sofa with him, his arms wrapping around your frame. “You okay doll?” he asked as he played with your hair gently.

“Better than okay,” you mumbled making him chuckle lightly.

Part Four non smut edition to be read after this one

Part Five - Finale Part

Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics @starkleila @delicious-xx @pet1t3 @skyesayshi @urmomsgirlfriend1 @dark-night-sky-99 @lantsovheiress@themotherofblood @avalyaaa

[alyssaforevermore]

Edit: I think it’s about time I address the frustrations (?) that this poll has caused. I was going to add my response to reblogs but I thought it would be better if it was right here for future finders to see. I wasn’t going to even respond because a) people haven’t been super rude and are allowed an opinion and b) I know who I am. However, anxiety has gotten the best of me! Leaving this under the cut so this post doesn’t clog peoples feeds.

For context, here are the responses I’ve gotten that lead to this edit:

First, I want to say that the frustrations are valid. Yes, this poll does include only hetero ships and we should call people out when they’re being purposefully exclusive. Clearly, this poll does look purposefully exclusive and I can recognize that.

This poll was created at ~3am after I watched the episode where Tucker died. My thought process was: I wonder who everyone wishes she did/would end up with? Benson is a canonically straight character which led to me picking only hetero ships. Would I love for her to eventually be shown as bisexual? Of course!! She just hasn’t explicitly been shown to be so far. I included ‘other’ because I wanted to see if there were ships I didn’t think of or other non-canon ships.

I could’ve and should’ve made the poll title more clear. That was entirely my fault and I do apologize. I never in a million years would purposefully or hatefully exclude LGBTQ+ ships or even just the LGBTQ+ community in general from any posts I make.

As a bisexual non-binary woman, seeing even just one person upset about the exclusion of WLW ships from any of my posts is awful. I never want to make people feel like I don’t support or appreciate diversity. I just wasn’t thinking at that moment about any non-canon ships and again, I should’ve been more clear about the intent behind this poll. It has been something I’ve been working on in all of my posts since I saw the first response to this poll.

Like I said, the criticism is valid and I apologize. I just wanted to finally make my intentions clearly because I feel like that’s important. I don’t want to further upset or anger anyone when it comes to a topic that I’m so passionate about. I really didn’t have any bad intentions when I made this poll but I understand that good intentions do not negate hurt caused.

I hope all of this made sense. I’m not the best at wording my thoughts. Thank you for reading and I’m always open to discussions surrounding what I put out on here. If you have any questions or concerns, please do reach out so we can discuss. Thank you.

[mxnson13]

Hey i love your fanficion i was wondering could u write about female best friend reader masterbating in her bedroom to the thought of eddie and moaning Eddie's name and shit but what she dosent realise is that eddie has just arrived at her house and is now standing at her bedroom doorway watching her eddie and the female best friend reader end up having sex you can add some of your own ideas in their to I don't mindddd

BABY this took a bit because i got high and then i got horny. i hope you like it!

“should we talk about it?”

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: smut, oral male and female receiving

summary: you stole your best friends shirt and he catches you doing something you’re not proud of.

you’re not necessarily proud of what you’re doing but it certainly doesn’t stop you. you laid on your bed nude except for your best friend’s metallica shirt. he’d worn it at his last show and you’d snatched it right off his bedroom floor the same night.

you can’t remember when your crush on eddie went from ‘he has the prettiest eyes i’ve ever seen’ to ‘fuck me daddy’ but your poor clit was the one being punished. the amount of times you’ve found yourself in the same position imagining him just holding you down and fucking the life out of you was getting embarrassing.

your gasps are just barely muffled by the mix tape eddie had made you. you flicked your clit in time with the music wondering if eddie would do the same.

the shirt smelled still smelled like him. you pull it up to your nose, not caring about exposing yourself since you’re the only one home. you inhale the scent of sweat, cheap beer and cigarettes. his cologne had almost worn off but you can’t still catch whiffs of the spiciness.

“what the fuck?”

you freeze, shirt in your face and fingers on your clit. you were supposed to be home alone.

“what the fuck?” eddie is standing in your doorway when you finally peek out from behind the shirt. he looks like the cat that’s just gotten the canary.

“hey,” you pull the shirt down immediately to cover yourself. “what are you doing here?”

“ah,” he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly but his smile never falters. “just enjoying the show.”

you stare at him for a moment, way more embarrassed than turned on now. “i’m just gonna go kill myself.”

eddie laughs boisterously. “you could but i’d be very sad.”

you groan and pull your blanket up over your face.

“you know,” he starts as he walks over to the bed. “i was wondering where that shirt went.”

“oh my god just take it so i can die in peace.”

he laughs again goddamn him. “you can keep it. it looks better on your anyways.”

“you’re not mad?” you ask sheepish over the top of the blanket. he reaches out and pulls the blanket away. you sit still as he takes you in wearing his shirt, still flushed from your previous activities.

“quite the opposite really.” you hazard a glance downward and notice he’s hard in his pants.

your brain went a little fuzzy and your core ached. your mouth drops open, panting a little. eddie’s watching your face with excitement.

“do you-“ he cuts you off with his lips pressed to yours. his warm hands coming to rest of your face and neck. you’re kissing him back eagerly, clutching at his shirt to pull him closer.

“so i didn’t read this wrong?” he asks attempting to move on top of you. you take advantage of him being off balance and pull him onto the bed. quickly you climb on top of him.

“nope.” you giggle leaning down to kiss him again. his hands grip your hips, grinding you down on him. you moan into his mouth.

“should we talk about this?” you ask pulling your (his) shirt over your head.

he stares at you dumbfounded. “you can’t ask me a question and then show me your tits that’s not fair.”

eddie’s nimble fingers dance up your hips, stomach to just under your breasts. you wait with baited breath as his thumbs rub over your nipples.

“eddie,” you grind down again, bare pussy against his jeans. your dreams were literally coming true, it was almost overwhelming. “can i blow you?”

“fuck yes!” he exclaims giddily. he helps you shimmy him out of his jeans and shirt leaving him in just his boxers. you’re sitting between his legs, eyes locked on the outline of his cock.

you trace your nails down his happy trail and he shivers underneath you. you bury your nose in the coarse hairs, it smells like his shirt. if this was a dream you didn’t want to wake up.

you suck a bruise into the side of his hip just because you can. eddie’s watching you with wrapped attention like he can’t believe it either.

finally you pull down the waist band of his boxers. his thick cock springs free. you try not to stare but it’s the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen. it’s warm and heavy in your hand. you close your eyes and try to commit the feeling to memory.

eddie ruts up against you hand and you take it as your queue to stop fucking around. you ease your fist up to the head of his cock to spread the precum with your thumb. his face contorts as he groans you name.

slowly you lick the tip, just kitten licks that leave him panting and begging. you wish you had turned down the music so you could hear him better.

sucking the head into your mouth he loses it and tries to buck up. you’re able to avoid choking or biting him by pulling off. he’s apologizing profusely but you just push his hips down.

“try and stay still.” you smile at him sweetly before engulfing him again. you go slow to keep him steady, but also to try and commit every moment of this to memory for later.

eddie is thick in your mouth and throat. drool pools at your lips which helps to ease in the slide of your hand. you feel empty as you think about him filling you, stretching you full. you can’t help but moan. his balls are heavy in your hand as you squeeze gently.

he’s babbling praise under you, one hand in your hair and one clutched in the sheets. he’s not holding you down, but the way his fingers keep tightening you think he may be close.

he spills with a shout, down your throat. you suck down every drop until he’s trying to pull you off. you sit up, beaming with pride as he catches his breath.

“wow,” he lets out a breathy laugh. “that was…awesome.”

you giggle. “should we talk about it?”

“did you cum?” he asks sitting up in his elbows.

“no.”

“ok then.” eddie lays back down and pats his cheek. “hop on and we’ll talk after.”

you laugh because the situation really is silly but you’re also giddy as you scooch up his body.

“you’re fucking soaked.” he gasps as you hover above his face. he yanks you down quickly and all your weight goes onto him. he moans loudly, tongue dipping between your folds.

eddie laps at you, kisses, sucks before driving his tongue inside. you’re gasping above him, riding his face. clit grinding into his nose.

your thighs were already shaking in pleasure. both your hands buried deep in his hair. he’s moaning into your pussy as you pull.

“fuck, eddie,” you cry feeling your orgasm bubble in your stomach. his fingers dug into your thighs pushing you over the edge. your release blurs your vision and makes your head go fuzzy. he helps you off of him and makes room for you to lay down next to him.

“i think you squirted.” eddie says after a few moments. you’re jaw drops as you notice him drenched down his chest. “that’s the hottest thing ever.”

“i,” you watch him grab his metallica shirt from where you discarded it to wipe off his face. “i’ve never done that before.”

eddie groans loudly. “that’s even hotter.”

you lean in to kiss him, happy when he reciprocates. the kiss is soft and sweet, sometime more akin to a first kiss.

“should we talk about it?” you ask trying to hold back a yawn.

“we can later.” he pulls the covers up over the both of you. “how about a nap first?”

“ok, that sounds good.” you nod snuggling into his chest.

“goodnight babe.” he pressed a kiss to your forehead. you feel your heart skip a beet. “sweet dreams.”

[mirrortouchedsea]

Ah, the hospital. Shu always hated the hospital. So…sterile, so clean. It was for the health of the patients, obviously, but it wouldn’t kill them to add some color somewhere. A nice painting would do wonders, especially in this room. He’s…not really sure why a child was in this wing, a place usually reserved for the elderly. Children’s rooms in hospitals tended to be brighter, more colorful. Everyone deserved that. 

Reaping children was a hard job, even for someone immortal like himself. A life cut too short by illness, violence, or sheer accident was always a tragedy. Nobody liked to do it but Shu volunteered for it every time. It was painful, but he wanted the children to be in a comforting presence as they passed on. Something he hadn’t been granted in his own time. The girl on the bed was sick. She wasn’t due to die for a few days yet but he thought he could spend a few days with her before then. At least, for part of them. Death never waits, after all. 

Shu often comes in during the early hours when visiting the sick children. If they’re awake, they may be able to see him, talk to him. He smiles and laughs at their bad jokes, listens to their woes. It is easier to move on with someone you trust by your side after all. 

He comes in around 2am to visit the most recent addition to his list. She has a few weeks yet but her condition is terminal. When he makes eye contact with her, she curls up in her hospital bed. Maguro Mikejima, the name on her files read. He smiles. 

“Hello, Maguro.” Children, he had realized, were more responsive to their first names. “I’m not here to hurt you.” 

She uncurls slightly, though still eyes him with a wary look. “W-who are you?” 

He kneels by her bedside. “You can call me Shu. How are you feeling?” 

“Are you one of the doctors?” 

“Something like that.” 

She relaxes. “My brother told me not to talk to strangers but…if you’re a doctor then it’s okay.” Shu takes note of a small stuffed toy sitting next to her on the bed. 

“I just want to make sure you’re feeling okay. Are you having trouble sleeping?” 

“Mmm…I dunno. Sometimes I guess, like right now. It kind of hurts to breathe.” 

“I see…” Shu raises a hand and looks at Maguro, waiting for a sign that he could go on. She nods, somewhat hesitantly, but it’s enough. Shu places his hand on her forehead and channels his energy into her. It was a temporary solution and his magic could only make things easier. It wouldn’t work on the underlying problem. She should be fine for the rest of the night at least. “Does that feel any better?” 

“Mmm!” She hums happily. 

“Good. I have to go now, but I’ll see you again soon, okay?” He held out his hand in a pinky promise, another thing he realized children liked. 

“You promise?” She wraps her own pinky around his. 

“I promise.”