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luminnara · 1 year ago

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Unheavenly Creatures | Feyd Rautha/reader (NSFW 18+)

Summary: Feyd Rautha has taken a liking to you, a handmaiden accompanying your mistress on a diplomatic visit to Giedi Prime. He decides it's time to add another darling to his collection.

Warnings: knife stuff, blood stuff, mentions of murder, sex, a lil cannibalism, sex sex sex, dubcon-ish tones? lots of biting, it's feyd rautha it's not gonna be all sunshine, but he is also not as terrible as canon entirely so idk

Word count: 6k

Check out my feyd rautha playlist!

Tags: @austinswhitewolf @aeilani @maneater17 @serrendiipty

The Harkonnen palace was a cold place, not in the sense that the air was crisp and you could see your own breath, but rather that the austerity of its halls and monochromatic decor felt positively frigid. As if even the buildings weren’t meant to harbor life on this toxic, forsaken rock anymore. Everything you had seen of Giedi Prime so far had felt the same—stark, brutal, inhospitable. A barren wasteland with blinding white skies and dark acid rain.

And yet, House Harkonnen seemed to thrive beneath the black sun, growing numerous and powerful and rich. Before arriving, you had heard horror stories, rumors of what Baron Vladimir and his nephews were like, none of them pretty. When you had been informed you’d been chosen to accompany your own House’s leaders on a diplomatic trip to the Harkonnen homeworld, you’d considered pretending to be sick to get out of it. Faking your own death had seemed like a valid option at that point.

But with little choice of your own, you were forced to follow along as a handmaiden, and from the moment you set foot on Giedi Prime, you were determined to keep your head down and hope that the meetings went smoothly so that you could return to your own planet as quickly as possible. As you walked dutifully behind your Lady, hands folded and eyes trained on your feet, you couldn’t help but wrinkle your nose at the putrid, chemical air, unaware of the dark eyes watching you.

“My nephew, na-Baron Feyd Rautha,” Baron Harkonnen rasped, his voice like dry gravel. His words had you glancing up to finally look at what the Harkonnens considered royalty, and what was supposed to be a quick peek turned into a curious stare. The Baron himself was a large man, and he was levitating, wearing a long black robe that touched the ground even while he was so high above it. Tubes connected him to what you could only assume was some sort of breathing apparatus, a dark, spherical thing floating behind him. Standing behind him to his right was a much younger man, dressed in black and staring directly at you.

You felt a chill fly up your spine.

Feyd Rautha tore his eyes away from you and inclined his head in acknowledgement, looking to your Lord and Lady as formal pleasantries were exchanged. You kept your eyes down once more as you finally moved indoors, where the air was fresh and stale at the same time, and the walls were imposing and cold.

You followed along as your Lady was given the grand tour, a journey that ended at the guest wing. You were shown to your room and all but locked inside, left alone to inspect your temporary lodgings. If the rest of the palace was bleak, this was entirely featureless—a single boring bed sat in the center, a small table off to the side. There were no windows, not a shred of natural light despite how high the ceiling was. How anyone could willingly design such a place was beyond you, and you counted yourself lucky to only have to endure it for a short time.

Dinner was served that evening, hosted by the Baron and his nephew. You were permitted to join, dressed in a plain white gown as you sat in silence, doing your best to disappear. You could feel Feyd Rautha’s eyes upon you as you ate and tried to ignore him, cutting into what must have been meat and realizing it was rare at best, perhaps an organ from some large beast. Nonetheless you ate it, finding it adequate and perhaps even tasty, eating in the calm and measured manner expected of you back home.

Suddenly, Feyd barked a laugh. “A pet at the dinner table?”

You glanced up at him and found yourself fascinated once more. His pale skin, nearly white, was completely smooth; you had yet to see a Harkonnen with hair, though you did not know whether they removed it or simply never had it in the first place. His blue eyes were so dark they appeared black in contrast, and as he grinned at you, all you saw were black teeth, and it was somehow beautiful in that brutal, gruesome way of Giedi Prime.

“Do your pets always dine with you?” He rasped, his tone mocking.

“Na-Baron, she is not a pet,” your Lady said sternly, and you felt safe knowing that she would defend you. You were loyal to your House for a reason, after all; you knew your leaders would bring you home safe and sound. “She is my attendant.”

“You must forgive my dear nephew,” the Baron said. “Your customs are not ours.”

You expected a rebuttal, but none came, and Feyd Rautha’s eyes remained glued to you as you ate.

-0-

The negotiations seemed to stretch on.

After dinner, you had helped your Lady retire for the night and then returned to your chamber, laying in bed as you stared at the distant ceiling. All the stories you had heard of the Harkonnens swirled in your mind, and you thought of their recent extermination of House Atreides and shuddered. Your House was desperate to stay in their good graces, you knew, and who could blame them? No one wanted to end up slaughtered like the Atreides.

You told yourself that you were safe. Even if the Harkonnens had lured your Lord and Lady to Giedi Prime under false pretenses, you were only a servant; there was no reason to kill you as well. Aside from Feyd Rautha’s comments at dinner and the stark discomfort of the palace, nothing had happened to make you believe you were a target, and though you knew it was borderline blasphemous, you took some solace in the knowledge that it was more worth their while to kill your masters than you.

When you finally relaxed enough to close your eyes, however, sleep came surprisingly easily, and your dreams were simple and comfortable.

In the morning, you prepared the Lady for the day, and then she and the Lord entered their meeting with the Baron, leaving you alone. There was nothing to do but wander the guest wing, though that only occupied you for a short time as there was absolutely nothing to look at. Nothing in the way of art decorated the walls, and the architecture was so smooth and so plain you quickly grew bored of it. You doubted you would be permitted to participate in anything that even semi-resembled entertainment, and as minutes stretched into hours, you realized your feet had taken you out of the guest wing and into a corridor you had no memory of.

You turned in a circle, seeing nothing and no one familiar, and made the decision to continue on. Surely someone would have informed you of any off-limits areas upon your arrival, and with absolutely no guards in sight, it couldn’t be that bad for you to wander this area as well.

Your steps echoed around you, breaking the oppressive silence of the hall. The architecture was bafflingly different compared to that of your home, where wood and warm stone blended together to create buildings that felt welcoming. On Giedi Prime, everything was harsh and inhospitable—including the people and their homes.

Though your interactions with the Harkonnens had been brief thus far, you could confidently say that they weren’t winning any popularity contests, except perhaps amongst themselves. Nearly everything you’d ever heard about them was bad, and so far, you mostly found them strange; the Baron was fearsome in the way a sick, desperate animal was, with those eyes that followed people as if he were wondering what it would be like to crush their necks in his hands just because he could.

His nephew, on the other hand, was fearsome in the way a predator was. His movements were smooth and confident at dinner the night before, his eyes calculating as if counting how many moves it would take him to press a knife into your gut. You had heard of Feyd Rautha, the pretty boy of Giedi Prime, but you had never seen him before yesterday, and quite frankly, you had expected something else…but then again, what had you even expected at all? The na-Baron was surely cruel just as his uncle was, but he seemed…different.

The clang of metal followed by the sound of a muffled thud startled you out of your thoughts of Feyd, and with a start, you realized you were standing outside a closed door. It was the first noise you’d heard that wasn’t your own all day, and your heart pounded as you quickly stepped back. Perhaps you should run, lest you be caught outside the guest wing. Perhaps it wouldn’t matter at all, as no one has explicitly ordered you to remain in your chamber. And, above all else, perhaps you were curious about what lay on the other side of the door, and you took a step forward again.

It was only a heartbeat later that it opened, revealing Feyd Rautha.

“Well, well,” he said, voice rough, “what do we have here?”

He was dressed in all black, in what you assumed were casual clothes for the Harkonnen royalty.

“Apologies, Feyd Rautha,” you said quickly. “I was passing by and heard a sound.”

You could feel his eyes raking over you as he listened. Then, a smirk crept across his lips, and he help up a bloody dagger.

He did so slowly, and you knew it to be an attempt at intimidation. He wanted you scared. He wanted to shock and disgust the outsider who came from another great house, who had surely never encountered anything like him before.

But you were tougher than that. You may have been a handmaiden for a spoiled aristocrat, but on your planet, hunting was common. You’d had your fair share of field dressing game, and you weren’t one to shy away from a knife.

You eyed the dark blood dripping from the blade, then focused on his face once more. “I apologize if I have caused an interruption.”

“Not at all,” he said, brow twitching as he tilted his head slightly. “Though you are to address me as na-Baron. Only my darlings may use my name.”

“Of course, na-Baron. My apologies.”

“Why are you not in the guest wing, little pet?”

“I have nothing to do, na-Baron.” You shrugged.

This time, he grinned, baring black teeth. If he expected you to cringe away, he would be surprised to find that you seemed almost unimpressed with the display. “So you walk freely, as though you own this palace. I could kill you for the insolence.”

You looked at him boredly.

“I could gut you.” He took a step towards you. “Stick this knife into you. Right. Here.”

He was standing before you, the tip of the blade poking your belly, still grinning. At your lack of reaction, however, the grin faded slightly, nearly faltering.

“Not there,” you replied, a bit amused by his lack of skill.

“What?”

“If you aim to gut me, that’s a terrible place to start.” You wrapped a hand around his and moved the knife over slightly. “This is better.”

He watched your face. “You’re a Bene Gesserit witch.”

“No,” your lip quirked in a small smile. “No, I’m experienced in the ways of hunting and traditional field dressing. Our House is known for them.”

“You’re a hunter? A weak, little thing like you?” He pressed the blade against your dress and laughed.

You considered stepping back, away from the na-Baron and his knife, but you recognized the growing fervor in his eyes. He wanted to hunt, to pursue, to drive the blade forward until he could feel your blood on his skin. Feyd was like a hunting hound, eager to follow the scent of his prey, easily triggered by the chase. So you stood still, studying his pale, smooth face.

“The Lord and Lady enjoy hunting on the estate.” You finally answered. “I often assist in dressing the game after.”

“But have you killed?”

“My uncle took me hunting when I was young. I learned much about the ways of nature and the hunt.”

“You speak so formally,” he taunted, leaning in.

“I do, na-Baron,” you replied curtly. “I do not wish to offend.”

With a sick smirk, he leaned into you even further, lips brushing your ear. “Have you killed a human?”

You watched him from the corner of your eye, and he watched you.

“Na-Baron, I fear I’m lost. I’ll return to the guest wing promptly if you’ll point me in the right direction—“

“Don’t change the subject, pet.” He drew back. “Lying to me is unwise.”

You swallowed hard. “Why do you wish to know?”

“You’ve caught my eye, little one,” he withdrew the blade, leaving the smallest stain on your dress. “And you’ve already told me all I need to know.”

You felt a chill, the back of your neck tingling as you watched him raise the bloody knife and lick it clean. Feyd Rautha was dangerous. More dangerous than you knew.

“Return to the guest wing,” he rasped. “I must attend to my darlings. They grow lonely without me.”

You stared, perplexed, as he strode away, an uneasy feeling washing over you as you turned and hurried back the way you had come. The sooner you could leave Giedi Prime and its unnerving House, the better.

-0-

“What?”

“Hush.” Your mistress scolded you, but you barely heard her.

Your head was too busy spinning.

“You are to remain here,” your Lord repeated. “In the employ of the na-Baron Feyd Rautha.”

Your heart dropped in a sickening way.

“You’ve been so very good to me,” the Lady said. “You’ll serve House Harkonnen very well, I am certain of it.”

“But I-I—I’m…” you paused, trying to catch your breath and quell the panic tightening your chest. “I’m loyal to our House, milady. And I want to return home, to the palace, and serve you.”

“Baron Harkonnen was insistent,” your Lord said flippantly. “It seems Feyd Rautha approached him sometime after our meeting yesterday, and this morning as we finalized the agreements, it was decided you’d be included in the negotiations. Imagine that, a fresh alliance with House Harkonnen and a fine sum for a handmaiden!”

“You…sold me?” You asked, your voice sounding incredibly small.

“Now, I’m sure you’re nervous, but really, these Harkonnens are nothing to worry about. Those nasty rumors back home are simply that, and I’m sure you’ll be well taken care of. Now, we must depart at once, and you are to be shown to the na-Baron’s chambers.”

“Ta ta, dear one!”

And just like that, your entire world was shattered.

As you followed a Harkonnen servant through the corridors, you kept your head down. You felt furious and lost, anger twisting in your gut. So much for loyalty—never before had you been made to feel so easily replaced, and yet they had given you away so willingly you could hardly believe it. Whatever negotiations had been made, whatever new deals struck, you had been deemed unimportant enough to your House to simply be left in the care of a dangerous man, and now you felt your very life was suddenly in grave danger.

“We have arrived, milady,” your guide said timidly, hunching her shoulders and clasping her hands tightly as you turned to look at her.

“Thank you,” you replied, brow furrowed slightly in confusion. “Am I to…enter?”

“Yes, milady,” she seemed to bite the words, not angrily, but in an effort to get them out quickly.

“Is Feyd Rautha inside?”

“Yes.” Came the whispered affirmative.

The bald woman was nearly trembling, and you felt as though perhaps you should be, as well. Feyd Rautha had been intimidating every time you interacted with him, and now that he had made the baffling decision to demand you remain on his planet, you were beginning to think you ought to fear him.

But he was only a man, you reminded yourself as you faced the door. Not a god. Not some supernatural being. The na-Baron was flesh and blood.

With a deep breath, you opened the door.

“You enter unannounced?” A familiar voice rasped.

Feyd Rautha was indeed inside what appeared to be living quarters, and the room seemed lavish by Harkonnen standards. A large bed with black sheets sat against the far wall, before which was a simple sitting area featuring oddly shaped sofas, all black as well. A mirror was mounted on the wall near the bed, and you chose not to wonder about its placement. You spied two doors on either side of the room, and in its center, stood the na-Baron.

“I was told to come here,” you said, voice tinged with irritation.

“And so you have,” he smirked, twirling a dagger in his hand as he approached you. "Obedient."

When he reached you, invading your space and nearly brushing against your chest with his, he caught the way your nostrils flared angrily and grinned. His black teeth, previously so fascinating, brought only annoyance now, much like the rest of him.

“May I ask what exactly is going on, na-Baron?”

“Oh, I simply couldn’t let you leave,” you felt his blade as the flat of it pressed up against your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “I had to have you, pet.”

“I am not a pet,” you spat, unable to contain yourself any longer. “And I demand to know exactly why I’ve been sold as one.”

The knife was pulled away as Feyd circled you. In the mirror near the bed, you could see him looking you up and down, appraising you freely now that the two of you were hidden from the rest of the galaxy.

“Your masters gave you away easily,” he said, stopping behind you. “They did not realize your true potential.”

“My potential?” You hissed, head jerking to the side to watch him from the corner of your eye. “And what might that be, na-Baron?”

In a blink, he had leaned in, rough hands suddenly gripping your sides as he brought his lips to your ear. “Call me Feyd.”

His too-hot breath on your neck and the tone of his voice caused your anger to stutter. “I-I thought only your darlings called you by your name?”

“Oh, it’s a clever pet,” he taunted, nipping your earlobe sharply. When he saw that you stayed still and didn’t flinch, he seemed pleased. “What do you know of my darlings?”

“N-nothing, I don’t even know what that means,” you answered truthfully.

“My darlings,” he began, a hand moving up to brush through your hair, short in the style of your position—former position—within your—former—house. “Are the most beautiful creatures. They are very special to me.”

You were in danger.

You knew it.

“I want you.” He said simply, pressing his lips to the back of your neck, and you knew he meant in every way. “Give yourself freely.”

“Why me?” You asked, mustering your courage to speak above a whisper.

He chuckled at that, running his tongue up your spine to the base of your skull. “You are just right, the perfect addition. You are unafraid. You have a taste for meat. And you have killed.”

You were silent for a moment, jaw squared. “I never told you that.”

His hands were creeping over your hips now, across the front of your dress. When he spoke, his voice was low and heady. “Who was it?”

Another long pause came as you wrestled with yourself, your tongue feeling too big for your mouth as you finally tried to speak.

“My father.”

As Feyd Rautha let out a guttural groan at your admittance, you stared at yourself in the mirror, and nearly didn’t recognize the person you saw.

“You and I are alike, pet,” his hands squeezed at you harshly while his nose pressed into your hair. “I killed my mother.”

A part of you felt sick at the suggestion that you were anything like the monster that was Feyd Rautha Harkonnen. Another part of you felt a strange comfort in the knowledge that you weren’t the only one in the room who had committed parricide.

“I haven’t shared that in a long time,” you admitted.

“Did he fight it?”

You could feel his arousal as he pushed his hips against you, the sensation bringing an unexpected fire to your core.

“Yes.”

“Did he deserve it?”

You stared at yourself in the mirror and saw an unexpected harshness in your eyes, the polite handmaiden now completely absent, replaced by what you had feared you truly were ever since the day of your father’s death; a killer.

“Yes.”

But if you had feared that you were bad for it, that you deserved punishment, Feyd Rautha seemed determined to prove otherwise. He turned you in his arms, never letting go, and brought his lips to yours in a greedy kiss.

“I need you now,” he breathed, almost sounding vulnerable for a moment.

“Take me,” you said against his lips, determined not to stop and think about what exactly you were doing.

If you were going to be kept and tortured by a Harkonnen prince, you may as well enjoy your last moments, right?

Feyd Rautha guided you to his bed in a way that was somehow both smooth and rough, gentle and demanding. He didn’t want to break you, but he wanted to see how far he could bend you before you snapped. He wanted to test you.

Your dress was quickly thrown to the wayside, torn by his dagger, his clothing following suit. As you lay on your back, fully bared to him, he crept over you, eyes taking over your body as he continued his earlier appraisal.

“So strange,” he muttered as he brushed his fingers over the soft hair between your legs.

“Are you…truly hairless?” You asked, eyeing his smooth groin. “You don’t…remove it?”

“Hair is…barbaric.”

You could have laughed at the irony of him of all people calling you a barbarian.

“I do not hate it on you,” he decided after careful consideration. “Perhaps you will keep this, for now.”

You had the odd feeling that you should feel grateful for the honor.

“It will set you apart from my other darlings,” his body moved over yours, eclipsing you as his hand reached between your legs.

He stroked you there, rubbing in a way that wasn’t gentle, wasn’t harsh, and wasn’t patient, all at once. When his lips captured yours once more, your mind spun—but it was a decidedly more pleasant spin than that short while ago when your entire world came crashing down. Feyd Rautha, while somewhat terrifying, was exhilarating, and as his fingers plunged inside of you and his kisses turned into demanding bites, you thought that perhaps this wasn’t so bad.

“That’s it,” he breathed, voice husky. “I want to hear you.”

Your whines and moans filled the heavy air. Feyd Rautha sought to conquer you, you realized; as you came, it wasn’t so much a favor to you as it was an ego boost for him. Either way, you benefited, and as he sheathed himself within you and his hips began rocking back and forth, you were glad for the warm up.

“F-Feyd,” you panted, nails digging into his back as you wrapped yourself around him.

He answered you with a low moan, face hidden in your neck. The na-Baron was merciless, driving into you over and over…but the heat that bloomed inside of you, that feeling that stemmed from your belly and ran all the way to your fingertips…was exhilarating.

He leaned back, one hand gripping your hip harshly, no doubt leaving bruises. The other found your throat and his fingers wrapped around it, squeezing, reminding you who he was. The heir to the Harkonnen throne. The pride of Giedi Prime.

Feyd Rautha.

Your face tingled as he held you, eyes seeking out his. The blue was nearly black, his pupils huge, like a big cat hunting in the dark. He was watching you, frenzied, feral in his ministrations, as if you were his prey and he had finally caught you. Just as your vision began to tunnel he let go and you gasped, gulping in air as he suddenly pulled out of you and rolled onto his back, manhandling you easily as you sank down onto him once more.

His hands were like a vice, pulling your hips down as he pushed up into you, still fucking you mercilessly even in this new position. You would never have expected this from him; you felt too powerful on top of him, too in control of someone who gave you every reason to assume that he wanted to be. That he would be the one weighing down on you, that he would forever and always be hovering over you as he made harsh demands. He was, truly, not as harsh as expected...not that you had ever, for a second, expected to be there with him.

He watched your tits bouncing above him, so much flesh laid bare for him to enjoy, and he soon pulled you down. When you expected him to return to your swollen lips, however, he instead moved his mouth to your chest, greedily sucking and biting your soft skin. He sank his teeth into you, reveling in your sharp gasp, answering it with a beastly groan that was so low and so loud you half imagined it must have shook the walls. The sound had your stomach twisting delightfully, your head fuzzy as Feyd Rautha pulled you closer, closer, closer, until you hardly knew where you ended and where he began. Half-formed thoughts swam in your head, none of them coherent, all of them about him as you desperately clawed at the arms that held you so tightly. He had wanted you, and now he had you, completely, all of you, in every sense of the word.

In that moment, you didn't hate it, or him, or that place; you wanted more. You wanted more of him. As your orgasm mounted, breaths coming in gasps, eyes glued to the pale man below you, you felt happy. Later, you would try to reason with yourself, tell yourself that it was simply chemicals in your brain that brought this on, but in that moment, you wanted nothing more than to do this over and over and over again with him.

"Yes," he rasped, voice muffled by your breasts. You felt the wet heat of his tongue in your cleavage, followed by the sharp bite of his teeth as he pulled you down onto himself. "Take it."

"Feyd," you gasped, eyes squeezed shut as your fingernails dug into his scalp. "Feyd!"

It came out as a half-scream as you felt the sting of his teeth, and it was enough to push you over the edge, plunging down into the abyss that was Feyd Rautha's love. His breath stuttered as his hips drove up against you, a growl sounding from deep within his chest as he came inside of you.

You felt his heart pounding as he held you, a sheen of sweat covering his smooth, pale body. You slumped over him, arms falling onto his shoulders limply. You thought you heard him laugh lightly.

"Good," he said, more to himself than to you.

He moved you easily, rolling you off of him and onto the bed as he pulled himself out. You felt slick and thoroughly used, not in a bad way, but in the way you imagined lovemaking should feel. You had never expected to feel such passion from Feyd Rautha, of all people. From a Harkonnen.

"Come." he stood and slipped his arms under you, scooping you up. Your arms immediately hooked around his neck, and as he carried you to one of the adjoining rooms, you wondered at how natural it felt to be with him now.

The door opened to reveal a steamy, dark bathing room, a large basin filled with dark liquid positioned in the floor. Feyd Rautha sank down into it and as you leaned your head against his shoulder, you heaved a sigh. The liquid was thicker than water but thinner than mud, like nothing you had ever felt before, and it was warm, soothing your bitemarks and sore muscles.

"What is this?" you managed to ask after several minutes of silence.

"Hmph." Feyd Rautha laughed, his whole body moving with the sound. "Oil and blood."

He paused, waiting for your reaction.

"...Ah." you said, wrinkling your nose for a moment as you looked down at the bubbling goo. "...It's nice."

His lips spread into a wide grin. "You don't find it disgusting, my darling?"

"It feels too nice to be disgusting right now."

Feyd Rautha moved a large hand to the side of your head and held you against him, pressing a kiss to your temple in a way that was almost tender. "Rest now. You will need it."

Too tired to ask why, you simply nodded, sinking into him as the blood bath steamed around you. If this was to be your fate now, you didn't mind it; and if he killed you tomorrow, at least your final day had turned out somewhat enjoyable.

-0-

"Do you like it?'

The question was simple, only four words, and yet it was never one you had expected to hear Feyd Rautha ask.

You had been living in his chambers for a week, sleeping next to him, eating with him, wearing what he chose and accompanying him wherever he went. You saw more of the Harkonnen palace--the training room was a frequent haunt, and you realized that it was the room you had wandered to on the day of your first conversation with him. You saw more of Feyd Rautha, as well, and you noticed how quickly he often decided to kill those around him.

But not you.

Never you.

He had yet to do anything worse than bite or scratch, occasionally bending your limbs too far when he tested your physical capabilities in his bed but always letting you go just before any real injury occurred. You often felt the smooth metal of his blades, but they never cut deep; he mentioned once that perhaps he would mark you with one soon, leave a scar that only he would ever be allowed to see, but he had yet to enact that fantasy. You weren't sure if that was good or bad.

Now, you stood before him, wearing a simple black dress that clung to your body and shone as if it were always wet, and your head felt too cold.

"I...don't hate it," you decided as you looked at your reflection.

"Good." he ran a hand over your smooth scalp.

"Will it grow back?"

"At first." he said in his accent that was growing more and more familiar to hear. "Eventually it will stop."

"And the rest...?"

He smirked, turning you to face him. "I told you, that will set you apart from my other darlings."

At the mention of their collective name, a hiss sounded from across the room.

You twisted your head to the side, spying the two women you had been introduced to three days earlier. One--who you had learned had been Feyd's the longest--sported a thick black line down her forehead today, but they were otherwise identical. They watched you curiously, bald heads tilted as they looked at you with big, black eyes. Their dresses were similar to yours, and as you glanced back at the mirror, you realized how you really didn't recognize yourself anymore.

Your teeth had been stained black already, your hair and eyebrows shaved and then the skin treated with something that the servants had explained would keep the hair away. You had already undergone one strange Harkonnen beauty treatment in what you had come to learn was a medical spa, and it was the only one that had frightened you--a strange machine had bared down upon you and done something to your eyes, injecting something that changed them and yet didn't change them, causing them to become big and black like Feyd's other darlings. You actually thought your eyesight was better now, somehow.

You matched them now, you realized, like a member of a set. Feyd Rautha's third concubine.

It was an upgrade from your last job, you supposed.

"It suits you." he pressed his lips to the base of your neck. "My darling."

"Thank you, Feyd," you said, growing more and more used to calling him by his name with every time you said it.

You felt him smirk against your skin. He was no doubt very pleased with himself, having managed to completely transform a murderous handmaiden into a sinister harpy in the course of only one week. Granted, Giedi Prime's days were significantly longer than on your home planet, but it was still a commendable haste.

"Come." he rasped in that gravelly voice you were beginning to love. "All of us. It is time for the arena."

He set off towards the door and you waited for the others before falling in behind them, moving as if the three of you had always belonged together.

"Will there be food?" one of them asked in a harsh, hissing voice.

"Yes," Feyd said gleefully.

"Hearts and lungs?" the other asked hopefully.

"Only the best for my darlings."

"Human?" she demanded clarification.

Feyd looked back over his shoulder, his eyes finding you even though he knew you had not asked the question. "Of course."

You stared back at him, swallowing hard. Human?

He grinned, and the others looked at each other excitedly. They both glanced to you and you gave the best black-toothed grin you could, not wanting to give any of them any reason to be displeased with you. Not after you had done so well all week.

Feyd Rautha led the way to the arena you had learned he loved to fight captured Atreides soldiers in, and after a short preparation (during which he killed at least two servants), a guard led him away while you and the others were taken up to a viewing room.

When you stepped inside you saw that a feast had already been laid out, platters of rare meat covering a short buffet table. As sunlight--or a lack thereof? Giedi Prime's sun continued to baffle you--light the room in that strange, black and white, infrared way, you stared at the food. You recognized it. Despite its human origins, you had no reason to be disgusted by it--because you had already eaten it, on that very first night, when Feyd Rautha had watched you cutting into your meal and commented on your presence at the dinner table.

As the others approached, picking out their favorites--lungs for one, a heart for the other--a grin found its way onto your face. Yes. Perhaps this was exactly where you belonged.

The crowd outside erupted in a roar of cheers as Feyd stalked into the sandy arena, and as you settled in next to the others to watch, you smiled to yourself. There was nowhere else you'd rather be in that moment than on Giedi Prime, eagerly awaiting the moment you could return to Feyd Rautha's chambers and celebrate his victory.

PART TWO

#feyd rautha #feyd rautha x reader #unheavenly creatures

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silly-thinkings · 1 year ago

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Batmoms biggest "fan"

A small thing that I wrote and completed a long while ago. I decided to go back to school and I'm now getting the hang of everything. enjoy this story wherein- You (fem batmom reader) have a sort of fanclub. This fanclub however has the rest of the family on edge. and your sons do something about it :)

You frown as you took a bite of of your food. You were stood up… by your own husband of all people. At a nice restaurant that he chose.

For a mission that he won’t even tell you the details about. That of course didn’t stop you from indulging in the food and wine that you’ve eaten multiple times. The people around you looked at you with the occasional whispers in between. But you didn’t mind. In fact, with the way you were eating it might as well been a night for Y/N Wayne to be by herself.

The waiter approached the table with a sheepish smile “the bill Miss Wayne.”

You gave him a smile that make even those who despise you blush . You pull out your purse and place cash in the folder, followed by the Bruce’s black card. The server Looked at you confused.

“The black card is for the bill. The cash is your tip.” You say with a wink.

“F-five hundred dollars” he shook his head in disbelief “I can’t accept this.”

You tilt your head to the side “why not? Is it not enough?” You look at his name tag before your phone rang. “You’ve done an excellent job today Jared. Please, accept the tip.”

Jared slowly nodded his head as he return to the back. You check the caller ID and smile “hey hey bird. What’s up?”

On the other end was your second eldest Jason Todd. Slowly he’s been talking to you more as of late. Which brings you joy, the last thing you’d want is for any of your boys to cut you off of their life over Bruce’s actions. Lord knows how hard you try to have both your eldest socialize within the family.

“Nothing much. You free?”

You look around the restaurant “not necessarily. Decided to get some dinner.”

“Where B?”

“Out. He’s busy tonight.”

There was a pause on the other line “right…”

The waiter returned with the card and you signed the receipt . You grabbed your belongings and left the establishment. “So, when’s the next time I get to see you?”

Unbeknownst to you, the very son you were on the phone with stood atop the apartment across from the restaurant.

“I don’t know Ma. I’m on a very important case right now.” Jason said pressing a pair of binoculars watching you intently.

“Hmmm. Well don’t stay out for too long. Honestly, you and your father act the same way when you’re working in a case.”

Jason moved his binoculars slightly behind you. He noticed the waiter watching you from one of the restaurant windows whilst holding a pair of white gloves. Your gloves, you must’ve forgotten them.

“Uh huh. Text me when you get home. Stay safe Ma.”

You look down at your phone slightly shaking your head. You place the phone back into your purse before raises your had at the passing taxi’s.

~Meanwhile~

Jason continued to watch both you and the waiter. It was only after you getting into a taxi that he put all his focus on the man in the restaurant.

Jason heard some shuffling behind him causing him to roll his eyes “Ya know, if you just want a hug you can totally ask.” The man announced his presence with a preppy tone.

Jason grunted “go away Dickhead, I’m busy.”

“No, it looks like you’re stalking mom.” Dick crossed his arms “what are your doing Jay?”

“Working. What are YOU doing? Shouldn’t you be in bludhaven? Doing police work.” Jason quipped as he watched the waiter put Y/N’s gloves in his pockets before returning to work.

“I’m… also working right now.”

Jason finally turned to face his older brother “so you know.”

Dick nodded “Babs has mom’s taxi being traced as we speak. Tim is also tailing the thing.”

Jason took a deep breath before turning around facing the restaurant. Five months, as far as Jason knows, his mother Y/N Wayne has been stalked by a group for five months. And it only seems to be getting worse. Word around the streets is that there’s a twisted fan club. A fan club that is too infatuated with the lady of the Wayne household. And the only way a person can be initiated into the group is by meeting Y/N Wayne.

“Jay. I know you know Bruce is working on this case. Why not join him instead of doing it alone.”

Jason scoffed “please, Bruce will just put the mastermind in jail. And then what? Tell me, are you comfortable with mom having stalkers trying to get to her any chance they get?”

Dick didn’t respond, which cause Jason to laugh “exactly. That man did nothing when I died. I’m not taking that risk. Not when my Mom is involved.”

Jason noticed the waiter walk out of the establishment and hastily walked towards a dark ally. Jason put his helmet back on “if you want to help, stay out of my way.” Jason, dressed as redhood Jumped down from the building to follow the man.

Dick watched as his brother followed the guy.

“You know he’s going to need some backup right?” He heard Barbra in his ear piece.

“Maybe he’s hungry.” Dick flipped off the building befit grappling the next one. Following his brother.

~~~~~

You arrive to the manor and went straight to the cave. “Bruce! Bruce Wayne show yourself right now!” You yelled into the void it seemed. Bats fluttered about as your husband dressed as Batman turned in his seat. He got up and walked towards you

You pointed a finger at him “you stood me up.”

Bruce rose his hands in surrender “I can explain.”

“It better be good. Because ain’t no way I went to your favorite restaurant only to be looking like a goof ball all alone. The gossip news shows are going to have a field day with this one.”

Bruce didn’t say anything. How could he, on the one hand he’s been trying to figure out who’s actively hunting you down. While on the other hand, he did use you for bait. And that he’ll have no problem taking to the grave.

“Bruce, talk to me. You and the kids have been tense lately. Is the world ending again?” You ask stepping closer to Bruce. You knew his actions were for a reason, but after years of dealing with this kind of thing, it’s starting to bug you slightly.

Bruce finally felt defeated. “You remember Dom? Dom rosenbloom from highschool?”

You giggled “of course. I’ve always found him sweet. Wonder what he’s up to.”

“He’s stalking you” Bruce said bluntly.

Your mouth hung open shocked by the sudden declaration “what? H-how?”

Bruce takes your hand and walks you to the computer. He pulled up multiple videos of this man following you at every instance. Galas, work, the gym, even at the supermarket.

“Bruce. Why didn’t you say anything’s“ you gasped before slapping his shoulder “you used me as bait.”

Bruce smiled slightly. Your tone was most definitely playful given the situation. “I might’ve”

You squeezed Bruce’s hand making him face you. His armored chest rising and falling slowly. You look up into his eyes. He then returned the gesture by placing one of his gloved hands on your face. “On a serious note Honey. You’re in danger so lay low for me alright.”

You nod your head. Your fingers dancing along his chest “That’s still not an excuse to stand me up.” You say standing up on your tippy toes before giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. You turn and began ascending the stairs. “I’ll be more carful from now on Bruce. Now… Could you at least join me in the bath~ I think that’ll make up for your silliness.”

Bruce looked at the time then back at you. “It’ll be my pleasure Mrs.Wayne”

~~~

Jason followed the waiter to a run down school. He loaded his gun before stealthily walking into the building.

“Rubber bullets?” Nightwing chirped beside him.

Jason swung his arm around pointing the gun at his brother “keep it up and I’ll use real ones. Just for you.” Jason scoffed “you’re a pain in the ass”

“Not as big of a pain at that one over there.” Dick pointed to the other side of the building. Damian dressed as Robin snuck in through a window before disappearing.

Stressed Jason put the gun away “Wheres his adult.” He said before the two followed the tween down the hall.

~~~

“My brothers! We are gathered here today to honor a priced relic. Mrs.Wayne’s gloves.”

A group of people gathered in the abandoned schools gymnasium. Y/N’s belonging from shoes, jewelry, even discarded hair products were put up on display. Ooo’s and ah’s can be heard from the crowd making Tim feel sick to his stomach. Before he hacked into the building lighting grid gunshots fired. Tim massaged his temple, there was only one other person he can think of that doesn’t have his kind of finesse.

“Alright. Which one of you is the leader?” Red hood parted the crowed of people as he pointed the gun at the man on stage.

Tim moved his head side to side before jumping down from his hiding spot. Knocking out one of the stage guards.

The man attempted to run on the other side but was stopped my a smaller Robin. Damian kicked the guard in the gut before crossing his arms.

The leader’s face turned red with embarrassment “What is the meaning of this. I , Dominic rosebloom will have all of you- ”

“Pfffft I’m sorry. Rose bloom? That’s your name.” Nightwing appeared from behind Redhood who still had the gun pointed at Dominic. “You were bullied weren’t you.”

Dominic opened his mouth to say something but Tim pulled out his laptop. “Actually yes. According to sources Y/n Wayne was his only friend throughout his high school years. Then uhh… Bruce Wayne stole her from him. Gross… anyway You guys didn’t know that?”

“Tsk what does it matter. Let’s settle this quickly. I have something important attend to.”

****

The sun shone through the silk curtains of your bedroom. Normally you’d wake up in bed alone but your husband laid next to you scrolling through his phone. He chuckled slightly before showing you what he was reading.

“Dominic RoseBloom found guilty for harassing and Stalking Mrs.Wayne”

The picture provided was a grown man left out in the open with heart underwear and a dunce hat on.

“No… who would humiliate him like that.” You say pressing a hand over your mouth.

Bruce look at the picture further, he noticed a green cape in the bottom of the photo “our children.”

#batmom #batmom reader #dc fanfic #jason todd #bruce wayne #dick grayson #tim drake #damian wayne

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l0nelyish · 9 months ago

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It‘s about that sandwich!

natasha romanoff x fem!reader

prompt: where you just can’t help but stun Natasha… and maybe get on her nerves? she doesn’t know which one it is.

nothin but pure fluff and nat being pouty af

lil bit of grumpy nat x sunshine reader if you squint.

3rd pov

„That‘s it.“, Wanda turned around, confused. Witnessing Natasha angry, sure thing. Witnessing her confused? never.

“What’s the matter with you, everything alright?”

Natasha huffed, pouting almost childlike. It’s so not like her to seem this openly frustrated, but she couldn’t care less. “Do I seem alright to you? No. This is the fifth time this month she’s been emptying one of the pbj ingredients before i could make one for myself.”, she dragged her eyes across the room, almost analyzing as in ‘hide and seek’. Where could you have been? And why do you have to steal ‘her’ ingredients? Natasha was bothered by you, yes. Extremely.

Wanda took another look at Natasha and chuckled: “Damn, does a peanut butter and jelly sandwich really have that much value to THE black widow? Oh my Lord.”

Natasha almost wanted to hit Wanda in the head with her slices of bread. It was really tempting, she had to admit. The witch shot her a knowing look, most likely hearing her thoughts. Again, the Russian woman huffed. Her temper was really not her strongest suit. Especially not after provoking it.

“It has a decent amount of value, thank you. What do you want me to say? ‘Oh my God! I can’t live without a pbj sandwich! Help me!’ ?”, Natasha shot her a glare, sarcasm being her best suited form of selfdefense. She truly is a witty woman.

On the other side of the kitchen aisle, Wanda tried her best not to fall into a laughing fit. Never has she ever seen Natasha this distressed, this fuzzy. And then, after really considering who they were discussing, she sent her friend a knowing smirk:

“Are you really this cranky about two bread slices or is it because of your ‘definitely not crush’ ?”

Natasha stared at her, eyes blown in shock: she got caught. Again. She usually wouldn’t let someone else read her this easily, but since this is you they’re talking about, and it’s Wanda she’s talking to, there really is no reason to facade it. Still, she tries to deny: “I told you a hundred times, I don’t like her! I can’t even stand her. I mean, she empties the food. What am I supposed to eat now?” So wrong. Even Natasha knows her whole act of trying to hate and blame you for everything is not working and it’s just her best shot at ignoring the rising feelings she’s got for you. But could anybody blame her, really? When you were this excited, extremely beautiful, empathetic and shiny human being?

You entered the kitchen, unaware of the ongoing dispute. Hot on your heels, you scanned the room and reacted to Natashas last sentence: “Did Steve forget the groceries? Are you hungry?”

And just like that, after merely 5 seconds, Natasha dreaded holding a grudge. Her whole demeanor snapped (no pun intended) and her eyes gazed almost neutrally into your warm gaze: “Someone emptied the whole peanut butter jar. And now I can’t make my dinner.”

Surprisingly, you sent her a goofy smile: “Oh! That must have been me, I’m extremely sorry, Tasha. I do have another half of my pbj sandwich left though, I was about to refrigerate it.”, you held up your plate. She gave it a look and panicked internally: were you really about to share your meal? As if gathering her freight, you again sent her a toothy smile and handed her the leftover half. “Enjoy!”, was all you stated, leaving both women standing around the kitchen isle. Plus the pbj sandwich, which Natasha stared at for longer than necessary. The corners of her mouth started to form a smile, which after some contemplation she insisted on not following through.

Wanda, who encountered the whole interaction, had a huge smirk on her face.

Natasha on the other hand, without having to look at her friends face, mentally face palmed herself for always getting so stuck up around you.

“Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything… but enjoy your meal.”, with that, Wanda left a flushed Natasha stood in the compound’s kitchen.

The widow took another look at your, no her, plate. And after a year, she still can’t wrap her head around it:

What was she going to do about you?

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female #the avengers #marvel #fanfic #sapphic #fluff #wanda maximoff

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daydreaming-nerd · 10 months ago

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Our Girl (Bat Boys! x Female! Reader) Rhysand's Part

First part

AN: Sorry I've been a little MIA, I've been going through a lot and struggling to find time to write. But I just busted this out and I love it.

Summary (Series): When Rhysand becomes High Lord the boys find themselves too busy and too well known to visit their local pleasure house. So they hire the reader to to satisfy their needs.

This fic: Rhys seeks his revenge from the last encounter he had with you and his brothers. HEAVILY BASED OFF THIS FANART

Warnings: sub/dom dynamic, dirty talk, degradation, cock warming, cum eating, (i think that's it, as always lmk if I missed anything)

Word count: 3,100

The past week or so had been nothing but bliss. I spent every morning curled up on my chaise lounge reading a book and eating whatever home cooked breakfast that was brought to me. It was just as I had dreamed, silk pajamas and expensive champagne, sleeping in and spa treatments.

Rhys and his “brothers” had been extremely busy the past couple of days, I hadn’t yet seen them since the first night we spent together. I hadn’t heard from them either, but as long as the gold in my account kept being accepted at every manner of boutique and fancy restaurants I didn’t much care when my services were needed.

I made my way through the townhouse and to my room, bags in hand and hair freshly done. I had spent the day at the hair salon and decided it would be a crime to return straight home with a fresh blowout, so I treated myself to lunch and of course some shopping as well.

When I returned to my room I found a black box waiting for me on my too large bed. Setting the bags aside I made a beeline to the mysterious box tossing the lid open with little care. My eyes went wide at what I saw inside. A babydoll made of deep purple lace and a silky mesh lay in the box. It was beautiful, but that wasn’t the lingerie that made me lose my breath, it was the diamond necklace that lay on top of it.

I picked up both gifts prompting a note to tumble out of the folds,

Your presence is requested by your High Lord…

There was no doubt in my mind that Rhysand was the one to send such a lavish gift. While I’m sure Cassian and Azriel were paid handsomely I could buy a house or two with this necklace.

I wasted no time changing into the attire Rhys had bought for me. I wondered if this would be a recurring thing for him. He had told Cassian and Azriel they could dress me however they pleased, but none had yet to take advantage of it.

I tiptoe down the hall to where I can practically feel his power seeping through the door. He had been holed up in his office all week. There were times I thought to check on him, offer him some release or even some company, but I didn’t want to pester him and lose my paycheck.

My hand lingers on the doorknob for a moment before closing around it and pushing the door open. I find Rhysand in the exact same place he was when I first came here, hunched over stacks of papers and drinking a whiskey on the rocks.

“There you are,” he says low, rising from his plush chair, his presence making me feel small. “Do you know what I was reading over?” he asks, waving a piece of paper in the air.

“No my lord,” I reply and I don’t miss the glimmer in his eye as I utter the familiar name he claimed to love so much.

“This, little one,” he smirks, further closing the distance between us. “Is your bank statement.” he smiles tossing the paper on a nearby chair.

My blood runs cold. Had I spent too much? Did I overdraft my account somehow? I was sure I hadn’t spent that much money in the past week.

“200 gold marks at Rita’s for dinner last night,” he states, coming behind me pulling my hair to the side so he has access to my neck.

“300 gold marks at a boutique, 100 marks buying lacy underthings and another 100 gold marks buying shoes.” he smirks, placing kisses on my neck as he lists every expense.

“I-I’m sorry did I overdraft my account? I can return the shoes, or the ‘lacy underthings’ as you so call them?” I wince praying I’m not about to get fired.

“If you take back those lacy underthings you will be fired,” he chuckles, resting his hands on my hips.

I mentally curse myself for forgetting his ability to pry into my mind, but I stop kicking myself the moment he kisses that sensitive spot underneath my ear.

“On the contrary, little one. You aren’t spending enough of my money.” he smiles, brushing a hand over the lace covering my breasts and up to my necklace. “I thought you could use some help.”

“They’re beautiful my lord,” I breathe, feeling him lick a stripe up the column of my neck.

“The next time I fuck you I want you dripping in diamonds and jewels that I bought you, is that clear?” he asks smugly and I swear if he wasn’t bracing his hands on my hips my legs would’ve buckled.

“Yes my lord,” I breathe leaning into his touch as I feel him smirk against the shell of my ear

“Good girl,” he praises me and I feel my stomach flutter once more. “Now I have unfinished business with you.” he growls and my eyes snap open as his hand traces around my necklace.

“You see last time I was denied you, I had to watch my brothers fuck and fill what’s mine and I didn’t like it very much.” he says dangerously low as his fingers dance over the diamonds around my neck. “Who put this pretty little collar around your neck?”

“You did my lord,” I breathe as he turns to face me.

“That’s right I did,” he smiles tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. “And whose money do you spend all around town on expensive wine and shoes?”

“Yours,” I say, my love drunk eyes boring into his.

“Good girl,” Rhys smirks, dragging a thumb over my lips. “Now I have need of you but, I’m not done with work.” he says, dropping his hand from my face, making me miss the contact already.

He strolls around the desk and sits down on his ornate chair again. Part of me wondered what his throne looked like if this was just the chair to his office. I hear his belt unbuckling as he frees himself from his slacks, standing tall, proud and practically throbbing for attention.

“Come here little one,” he croons as he tugs his cock a couple times in his hand, getting it hard and ready for me.

I approach him smoothly, I think he wants me under his desk with my mouth on his cock but the second I’m within arms reach of him I feel his hands on my hips. The next thing I know he’s slipping me on his cock like I’m nothing more than a cock sleeve for him.

“There we go, nice and snug in there,” he smirks, nibbling my earlobe.

I can hardly think or even breathe from the sheer size of him. I was almost embarrassed that he didn’t even have to touch me to warm me up for him. His words alone had me dripping wet for him making it easy for him to slide right in.

“Now,” he chuckles, feeling the tension in my body. “I’m going to finish some paperwork and you're going to sit right here and keep my cock nice and warm alright little one?”

“Yes my lord,” I mewled, already sweating, needing him to move.

“Good girl,” he smiles, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “No talking, no moving, and no touching yourself or you don’t get to cum.”

I nod shallowly as he begins to resume his paperwork.

It was probably the biggest exercise of self control I had ever practiced. I knew how good it felt to ride Rhys, knew how good it felt when he lost control and pistoned inside of me until I fell apart under him. To sit here and be so close to that kind of pleasure? It was torture.

The ticking of the clock on the wall only furthered my madness. I averted my eyes to where Rhys was scribbling on scroll, the scratching of a fountain pen equally as infuriating. The way his hand gripped the fountain pen, the veins standing out. How could his hands possibly be arousing? Was there a part of this male that wasn’t arousing to me?

I pictured what those hands might do should they find their way on my skin. Where they might touch first, the ideas had my pussy clenching as I take in a sharp breath.

Rhys’ hand on my waist flew to my thigh slapping it hard, “Bad girl, I felt that,” he growled and I had to bite my lip not to whimper.

The scratching of his pen on paper echoed throughout the room as I did everything in my power not to move, not to breathe or think about anything but being completely still.

“150 gold marks at the perfumery huh?” Rhys croons holding the receipt for the perfume I bought two days ago.

“Yes my lord,” I say, eyeing the receipt that had yet to bear his signature.

“Let’s see what I purchased then,” he utters slowly, his nose nuzzles my neck inhaling the scent of the new perfume. “Mmm, very nice little one.” His voice is low and husky and I can’t help but clench around him once more.

He growls, grabbing the back of my neck and hauling me up before slamming my front on top of his desk. On instinct I try to move but I’m held down by his hand on the back of my neck. His cock slips out of me, leaving me cold and empty, I’m half tempted to beg him to fill me again.

“What did I say about moving?” he snarls in my ear, making me whimper.

“I’m sorry,” I mewl, making him laugh.

“You aren’t, but you will be,” he chuckles.

His hand grips the hem of the light chiffon of the babydoll and tosses it over the small of my back so he can see all of me. I feel his hand smooth over my bum before spanking me hard. The sting makes me whimper until his hand comes back to soothe over the area.

Without warning he buries himself inside of me, his balls smacking my clit. The guttural moan he lets out is nothing short of pornographic. I can feel the bulge in my belly that he leaves, his tip brushing my cervix like he did last time.

He pulls out and moves in slow languid motions, making me feel every harsh inch of him. I’d like to think he’s warming me up but I know he’s warning himself up, this is all about him.

“Gods your pussy is worth every single piece of gold I pay you? Do you know that?” he growls picking up the pace a bit.

I whimper in response, feeling him move his hand from my neck to my hip to keep me from lurching forward so much. Out of the corner of my eye I see him shift the receipt from the perfume on the desk and grab a pen. Is he really signing my bills as he fucks me over his desk? The scratching of his signature on the page lets me know he is.

“Every fucking penny,” he grunts before tossing the heavy pen on the desk.

The thud of the pen is followed by another grunt before his hand goes to my upper back pressing me back into the desk again. His fingers on my hips and between my shoulderblades keep me from moving even an inch as he pistons his hips into me, a male gone feral.

“Oh fuck Rhys!” I moan feeling my eyes roll to the back of my head.

My fingers grab the edge of the desk trying to keep myself from moving too much, needing something to dig my nails into. The sound of skin slapping fills the room as Rhys’ breathing picks up with the rhythm of his thrusts.

I clench around him and I receive a harsh slap to my behind once again. The sting startles me but fades into pleasure.

“Don’t you dare cum little one,” Rhys growls, increasing his pace. “You were a bad girl, bad girls don't get to cum.”

I let out a whimper at his words. I swear to the gods if this man leaves me trembling on the desk from not finishing with his cum leaking out of me I will lose my mind. I’ll run and find Cassain and beg him to finish the job, which I know he will. Azriel is another story. I think he might end up tying me up and getting off on me begging, hell I might get off on it too.

“Rhys please,” I cry as he presses my cheek further into the cool, smooth wood of the desk. Pens and picture frames rattling off from every thrust.

His hand comes down on my ass again as he pistons into me, searching for his own release. Long fingers dig into the skin of my hips leaving marks in their wake.

“Are you going to beg little one?” Rhys laughs, thrusting harder making me too dumb to speak.

My eyes roll to the back of my head as he finds that spot that drives me wild. I’m sure he’s not trying to, clearly just trying to get himself off. Yet somehow he’s fucked me dumb already and I’m a babbling mess bent over his desk.

“Tell you what if you beg nice and pretty I’ll let you cum?” Rhys chuckles. “Can you do that for me, little one?”

As if snapped out of the trance I’m in I feel my thoughts come back to my head. I’ll beg for him, I’d do anything for this male. I knew the second I met him I’d be utterly devoted to him if he just fucked me right, and by the cauldron he does.

“Please, please, please, please my lord,” I cry, feeling like a cock drunk fool. “Please let me cum!”

Rhys chuckles, grabbing the back of my hair and angling my head so my cheek isn’t pressed into the wood anymore. I almost wished there was a mirror in front of us so I could see the way he’s taking me.

“If you make a mess, you’ll have to clean it up. Can’t have other High Lord’s coming in here and seeing my whores cum all over my desk,” he smirks fucking me harder.

A sick part of me wanted just that to happen. Hell let the other High Lord’s watch him fuck me.

“I’ll be good, I’ll clean up,” I rasp out feeling tears prick my eyes. “P-Please let me cum.” I breathe.

It suddenly occurs to me that this is truly revenge from our last encounter when I wasn’t allowed to let him cum. He wanted me to beg just as hard as he did that night.

His hand in my hair tightens, lifting my front off the desk. My back is forced to arch and somehow he’s able to fuck me even deeper in this postion. My eyes fly open and I’m met with a pair of raging violet ones.

“Couldn't reach that pretty clit with your face pressed against the desk,” he smirks and before I can say anything his finger finds that sensitive pearl between my legs rubbing little circles in it.

My mouth falls open as the coil in my stomach threatens to unravel. His fingers continue their tantalizing ministrations on my clit. The impressive length of his cock digs deep in my belly. I close my eyes for a moment, feeling overstimulated. The hand he has fisted in my hair shakes as he forces me to arch my back more.

“Eyes on me little one,” he growls and when my eyes flutter open I see his violet ones staring back at me, eating up every reaction I give him.

My mouth falls open as I slip back into that cock drunk feeling and his eyes drink me up, seemling getting off on my fucked out face.

“Yeah you like that?” he smirks, not taking his eyes off me. “You like being my little cock slut?”

The words falling from his lips are enough to have me coming undone for him in a string of moans and cries. Tears fall from my cheeks, and I swear I feel him lick one up before he slams into me one last time, sputtering inside me so deeply I can feel the warmth coating my insides.

The grunts that fall from his mouth are enough to make me want more, but as he releases my hair and gravity pulls my body to the desk again I realize how spent I truly am.

I hear the chair squeak behind me, signaling that he’s sitting down, no doubt watching his cum spill out of me as I haven’t gotten the energy to move.

“Oh little one you’re such a messy girl,” he teases, running a finger up my folds collecting the mixture of our releases that are there.

I mewl as I feel him graze my overstimulated clit. I pull my head up to examine his desk, pen cups and picture frames are knocked over, papers are lying on the floor. My eyes widen as I see faint claw marks from my nails in the wood of the desk.

“What did I say about messes?” he tuts behind me.

I let my body slink to the floor, hitting my knees at the edge of his desk. He runs a large hand through my hair from where he sits behind me and my eyes come face to face to the mess we made.

Rising on my knees I let my tongue lap up the salty sweetness of him and that's right in front of me. His hand pushes my head down a bit forcing me to take every last drop. Only when the wood is spotless do I feel him thread his fingers through my hair and pull me back so he’s looking at me again.

“Such a good girl for me,” he smiles, leaning down to give me an upside down kiss. “Let’s get you cleaned up little one, you’ll sleep with me tonight.”

I’ll give the High Lord one thing, he fucked like a god, but what he really did well was aftercare. Always cleaning me up and getting me fluids. Holding my shaking body until I fell asleep. Something told me he longed for this type of intimacy as well. Cassian was the same that first night as well. Fetching me snacks and stroking my hair. The mysterious third brother, Azriel, had yet to show his cards. But something told me I’d be seeing him sooner than later.

(If your name is highlighted tumblr won’t let me tag you☹️)

Taglist: @yearninglustfully, @moviesismylife, @readingislife2006, @bookishbroadwaybish, @danikamariemain, @winchesterbbygrl , @paleidiot , @thatacotargirl , @xmalfoyweasleyx , @readingislife2006, @darling006 , @nayaniasworld , @noelli-smv, @itsbonniebabe , @sweet-chai-amore , @writerloversjm , @darkbloodsly , @prettylittlewrites , @mollygetssherlockcoffee , @panther-girl-124, @tumblgirlie0210 , @whistle1whistle , @librafairy , @wolvesnravens, @imsinistersweetie , @tincanhat

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#bat boys x reader smut #bat boys acotar #bat boys x reader #bat boys #rhys acotar #rhysand #rhysand x reader #rhysand angst #rhysand acotar #rhysand smut #rhysand x reader smut #high lord rhysand

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suuuupernovaaa · 9 months ago

Text

Relief ft Benjicot Blackwood

Benjicot is to be married off, and you don’t believe it is to you.

Tags: fluff, arranged marriage, lots of fluff, not proofread

The grease from the bird coats your fingers as you pick at your food, pushing it around the plate but not eating.

“Y/N!” your sister hisses, chiding you for the mess you’re making, and you cannot offer her anything in response but a childish eye roll.

“Stop that,” she whispers. “You blame me, but this is not my doing.”

Though she’s right, you fear you will hate your only sister until your final breath rattles in your chest.

It is you who has loved Benjicot Blackwood since you were practically babes.

You who has spent your years teasing him, learning him, meeting him in secret as - even though you still kept your maidenhead - the two of you spending time alone was improper.

It is you who knows every freckle on his face, has the brown of eyes his memorized so that you see it when you close yours, and can smell his scent in the wind on cold days.

Yet you know, by the end of this night, your sister will be betrothed to him. Not you.

Everyone whispers of it. A union between your great houses. A lord and lady to wed. Your sister is older and must marry first, and Benjicot is heir to the stewardship of these lands, and so it will be the two of them united.

Wiping your hands on a napkin, you rise and excuse yourself. Your parents sit even now with Ben’s parents, bartering the union, and soon it will be announced. You exit the hall and find yourself outside, the chill in the air raising bumps on your uncovered arms. The guards in the courtyard glance at you, and then away.

No one stops you as you cross the muddy courtyard and through the open gate under the quickly setting sun. Just ten minutes, you tell yourself. Ten minutes to gather your composure, and then you can return.

Ten grows to twenty, and thirty, and the chill is bone deep before you return to the fort. Unable to bring yourself back to the banquet all, no matter how you will be chastised for it later, you make way for the guest quarters, aiming to cry yourself to sleep.

“Y/N!” a familiar voice hollers as you begin to round the bend in the stairs. You stop, and turn to see Benjicot charging up after you, breathless. “I have been searching everywhere! Where the fuck have you been?”

“Out,” you reply.

“Out? You left in the middle of dinner.”

You shrug. “Why does it matter? I am sure no one else noticed.”

You try not to be touched by the fact that he did. After all, he won’t be yours much longer. The thought grips your chest, spreading like black ink out to your limbs, and you feel exhausted by it. You just want to lay down away from everyone and forget even your own name.

A smile spreads across Benjicot’s face, a familiar, cunning smile that sends chills down the spines of his enemies, and up yours.

“Everyone noticed you left. How can they announce my betrothal, if my betrothed is missing?”

The words don’t quite make sense in your mind when you first hear them. “Missing?”

You ask. “My father made to announce that we are to wed, and a panic ensued when you were found not present.”

“You and I, to be wed?”

He simply nods.

“But, my sister?”

“I spoke plainly with my father, and yours. Your sister has many prospects for her hand, and we will wait until she is married to proceed with our ceremony, but I would have none but you.”

Your heart, heavy almost moments ago, flutters in your chest.

“We are to wed?” you ask again, and Benjicot cannot help but laugh. Instead of answering, he wraps a strong hand around the back of your neck and pulls your mouth firmly to his.

“You are to be mine, as you always have been,” he whispers against your lips, and you fall into him, a sob of relief escaping you.

“Hush now,” he chides as he places kisses all over your face, still cold from the outside chill. “No tears in the face of good news, my beloved.”

You throw your arms around his waist, and he holds you tight to him, tucking you into his warm chest.

“They are happy tears,” you manage to say into his coat, and he laughs again, the sound more beautiful than any you’ve heard before.

“I am hurt that you thought I would let you go so easily, my dove. Come. Dry your face, and we will go show them all how happy we are.”

And indeed, you do. There are huge for everyone. Your father and mother, your sister with tears of relief in her eyes, and your future family as well.

Benjicot steals you away once the congratulations have ended, to join the dancing. You feel lighter than air as he spins you around and dips you down low, whispering kind words and dirty promises your ears all the whole.

When the night is ended and you must part, he kisses you again. “Sleep well, wife,” he whispers, and you blush.

Sleep does come, eventually, and your dreams are filled with your betrothed.

#benjicot x reader #benjicot blackwood #Benjicot Blackwood fic #HOTD

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sramoonlight · 26 days ago

Text

What do you fight for?

What if the batfam had their own spidey?

Content you’ll see here: Batfam, neutral!reader, subtle crossover, weird romcom.

English it’s not my first language so please be patient.

The night felt weird as you looked at the street on an unknown roof, Tim puts down a bag of hamburgers next to you

Everything happened so fast, you had to find a new hide spot and now you’re just there trying to find an answer, multiverse and time travel, you didn’t think it could be together maybe in a sci-fiction novel but never in the reality.

You see how he starts eating as you took your cup of soda lifting your mask to take a sip of it, and you sighed

— Are you still thinking about it? — He asked chewing his food as he looked at you

— It’s just… I can’t seem to understand it — you said, looking at the streets

Everyone look so small below you, and you still can’t find comfort on being in the top of the world, it feels like thinking about what happens after death but without the existential crisis

Tim looked at you before handing your hamburger, you took it taking a bite of it

You’ve known him as the work addict, the one who choose to not sleep until he gets the answer he wants but now he’s inviting you to take a break

— If you keep thinking about it you’re not going to find anything —

You hummed in response, chewing the hamburger as you thought about it, probably you’re going to find an answer once your mind colds down

Still, why someone like Kingpin would want something from the crime lord Black mask? Maybe about a doctor, he usually looks for scientist to do what he pleases but this is certainly something else.

— Ugh, motherfucker — You looked how Tim mumbled something taking his phone to type something, you moved falling into his shoulder peeking out at his phone

“Kon”

— Who’s that? — You asked, Tim turned off his phone before you could see their text, probably he’s too shy to even admit it — A comrade of mine —

Weirdly, his phone started to blow with new texts that you couldn’t see because he moved his phone away so you couldn’t see it

Like the person he was talking to could hear him.

You bite your cheek thinking about it, well, probably it wasn’t nothing and just a hero comrade who likes to talk, oh you really want to know more heroes

— Go back to the manor, I’ll be patrolling — He said and you didn’t notice when he had finished his dinner, he eats so quick that makes you wonder if it’s because you have a small mouth

Whatever, you smiled getting up as you did your best to finish the hamburger in one bite

Wow, you don’t have what it takes to devour it without feeling full

— Okay! I’ll see you tomorrow Tim McGraw —

— Tim what? —

Before he could protest you shot your web leaving the roof

He had to google that name after that, but doesn’t matter.

After a few swings you made it back home entering through the window of your room, it’s past 1 am and you still wonder how could Tim find a fast food restaurant open, probably because he is a rich boy, probably not

You looked at your reflection on the mirror, the cut on your arm is only visible through the little lump on your suit, the bandages are sure a problem but you’re happy that you don’t look as a broke plushie

Speaking of which, you’re surprised that Tim fixed your suit, it doesn’t look like it was ripped just hours ago

— He sure did that thing were you can’t see the seams —

You remember the way your mother used to do it, you sitting on the floor as she sat on the couch sewing your suit hearing how you punched some bad person on the face

The memory makes you look at your hands, a clumsy seam where your mother first fixed it, she didn’t know how to do it properly but she tried anyway

She was the first person you told about the spidey thing, the first second you receive your powers you were yapping about it

You miss her so much

You close your hand sitting on the floor, that hand moved close to your chest like it could make you feel her arms around you again

What should I do?

A silent whisper, only the walls could hear you talking to yourself, or maybe to someone who you can’t longer see

— We’ll be fine, mom —

The day you didn’t wanted to happen is today, you looked at the mirror not liking the way your body feels at the color black, you never thought about using this type of clothes just to visit your mom

But you had to do it, your father did his best to bring your mother’s body so you could do a funeral for her

You took a deep breath, fixing your hair you walked to the living room where your father was waiting for you, your other siblings chose to not go with you or maybe they were too busy to attend, still, they send you all their support

Except Damian, he just looked at you.

Your father walked with you to the car where you sat on the passenger seat, he sure looks good on a suit, the press is going to talk about how stunning he looked even at a funeral

You can see how he’s holding the steering wheel tightly, not because he’s heartbroken for loosing his lover of course not, he and your mother were just a one-night thing

He doesn’t know what to say, you understand it, nothing prepares you to go with your own blood to see a woman you just met once

— She.. was someone very smart — he said after a seconds, you looked at his eyes and he was looking at yours — I know she’ll be happy to see the person you’ll become —

You looked down, where your hands were and you caressed your wrist feeling the web shooters behind your sleeves

Now that she’s gone, the pressure about being the best version of you feels bigger

— I just want to be what she wanted me to be — you whispered and then he held your hand making you look up at him

He smiled, that smile was the one of someone who lost his parents too

It’s weird knowing that in some way he understands you, maybe at a way no one else could but that’s because he’s your dad, you have to be alike in a thing right?

— Dad.. — It doesn’t feel weird to say it

You held back his hand, smiling softly

Your mother send you with him, she knows you’ll be just fine by his side

You arrived at the building, your father left the car opening the door for you and he offered his arm to you

That was his way to show you that you won’t be alone, without second thought you took it

Flash

All the cameras where pointing at you, making you blind for a few seconds before you could walk properly

Your dad didn’t looked like he bothered, like he’s used to feeling that kind of attention

Slow walk as you approached the coffin, it is closed and you had to guess that it was because of how bad her body looked

How were her last moments? What did she felt? Was she scared?

You let go your father’s hand touching the coffin, the feeling of knowing that your mom is behind all that wood is killing you

You can’t see her, you know that if you do you’ll be crying in seconds wishing that this is a joke

— Hi mom — You whispered, kneeling in front of the coffin, your forehead moved to press against it like you used to do with her whenever you faced a tough villain

The feeling that you made it back home safely, but now the one who didnt was your mother

— Im home, mom — that words burned your heart, already feeling that you were about to cry you moved standing up to see your father

He looked at the coffin, a blank expression on his face not knowing what to do

— I never thought of seeing you like this again, Catherine — you heard him mumbling but you didn’t cared

Taking a deep breath you wiped the stray tears on your eyes, you can’t cry in front of her or she’ll feel bad for leaving you behind

Your father and you moved away from the coffin, like a puppy you followed him as he greeted the guests

You recognize them as you mother’s co-workers, you still wonder how they managed to made it to Gotham, if you were them you wouldn’t do that much of a trip

Then, your eyes spotted someone

Kingpin, he approached you, not your father

— Im very sorry — He said, you looked at how his wife stands by his side holding his arm

— There’s no need, sir — you said lifting your head to see him, that man had the most sad eyes like he understands your pain

But he doesn’t.

— Your mother was a very loyal employee, we’ll miss her presence — your body tensed as he moved his hand to cup your face, since you were little you’re used to see him

If you didn’t knew how bad he could be, you would relax against his palm like you used to do when you were six, you know this man has a thing for kids and knowing that he saw you grow up just makes this conversation even worse

— If you ever need anything, I’ll be just a call away, I’m sure I can make it up for you — once he moved away you could feel how your whole body relaxed

He walks away, talking to the other guest and you touched your cheek

Before this incident, seeing him felt weird because he beats you whenever you step against him, but you managed to not show it

But this is too much, knowing that whatever he did this time took your mother away from you

— You don’t seem happy to see him — your father said looking at you with a little smile

Did he notice you were uncomfortable? Wow, you’re sure you hide it pretty well

— It just doesn’t feel good knowing my mom died on his building — you chuckled trying to move the pressure on your hand to the side

Bruce didn’t looked convince but he hugged you by your shoulders pushing you close

— you don’t need to see him again if you don’t want — that words only makes you lay your head on his shoulder mumbling a quick thank you

You don’t think this day could get worse.

You were back at the manor scrolling through your phone, Bruce went back to his job before dropping you at home

The pics of you at the funeral are filling the internet, everyone wondering about where you were all this time just makes you wonder even more what life does your siblings have

Being this publicly, not even being Spidey makes you feel this.. abused? No one cares about what you’re feeling, they care about what happened seventeen years ago when your parents meet, you thought about it before but you just washed it away thinking that it didn’t matter

That was your parents private life after all, you sighed before feeling someone knocking at your head

Wait what?

— I have a clue — Tim relays on the couch looking at you with wide eyes, you know he wouldn’t bother you today if it wasn’t something useful — The thing is.. that happened at metropolis and I just know someone who could help us get information —

You raised and eyebrow turning to see him, you can see how he looks irritated to the thought of saying this to you

— I need you at our spot at eleven o’clock —

With that you knew he wants to meet at the place you met the night before, you see how he leaves with an apple on his hand probably to his room

But you don’t remember him having a room on the first floor, whatever

You need to get ready for that.

Back on your spider suit you waited for Tim at your spot, the moon is up and you can feel how the cold breeze is getting on your nerves

You need to add a coat to your suit or you’ll freeze, how could Gotham nights be this cold?

— You arrived first, what a surprise — Tim appears from an alley on his Red Robin suit, he does feels like he’s been on a rush

Where his duties as a vigilante? You don’t understand how can they be this busy even if they’re almost five at this city

Before you could think more, someone floats down

Floats?

You see how a man, one with a jacket and a very punk style looks at you through his black glasses

On the night? Geez he’s sure something else, your mother would say he’s a spoiled brat who only thinks about looking good

— He’s.. —

— Superboy but you sweetie? You can call me whatever you want — he winked at you causing you to chuckle

You can see how Tim looked pissed at this, Superboy moved to hold your hand moving it to his lips

Before he could do that, Tim stepped holding you by your shoulders and moving you away from the teenager

— He.. is someone from metropolis, he heard Kingpin on the city — You looked confused at his words now facing the man

You crossed your arms facing him with a smile even if it was hiding behind your mask

— May I know how you heard him? — you tilted your head in a defying voice

He chuckled moving to be close to your face, was he floating to be taller than you? You had to bite your cheek to keep you from bursting on laughs

— Well, I have a big good ear and I know when someone isn’t from my city —

He faced you, his glasses are even more down that you saw before and you can tell that he putted them down to see your face better

Even if it was behind a mask, he seemed curious to see you

— May I know your name now, hun? — that’s it, you laughed

Your arms more to your back approaching him with joy, he jumped back not expecting you to fight back

— Does the suit gave you a hint? —

— Only that you need to be- —

You heard Tim shout as he stepped between you, him hugging you by your shoulders with a flustered face and even if he had his domino mask on you could see how furious he was

Was this.. that thing about jealous brothers? You suppress a chuckle before going on work now

— Okay, jokes aside, what did you find? — You asked, now fully interested in whatever is going on

Superboy gets on the ground looking at you with a bore face, probably he didn’t like being pushed away without ending his game

Anyways, Tim clears his throat letting you go as he takes a more relaxed pose

— He seemed to look for Lex Luthor help but he denied to do anything like that, I mean, he was about to convince him but he didn’t give him what he wanted — he explained now his hands on his pockets

You analyze his words, of course King ping wouldn’t want to give something very fancy just in exchange of a favor, and that makes you wonder even more

Does the project need that much of people to be done? What is he planning?

You thought multiverse and time travel was enough to trap someone on King ping’s hands, but you had to admit, he doesn’t own nothing Lex Luthor would want.

— My theory is, whatever Kingpin is doing isn’t something safe — Tim said expressing your words

But can’t be, you pressed your hand on your chin

— That can’t be, King ping would never do something so risky he could loose his life or his family — you said, knowing what is in King ping’s heart

He would fight gods if he had to, only to keep his family safe

You opened your eyes as wide as you could

— Woah! Their mask moves too — you didn’t quite heard what Superboy said.

— He does this for his family — looking at Tim he seemed to think about it he looks confused to even admit it

For him, it looks like a weird thing, why would you build a time Machine so you could do something for your family? Nothing bad happened

— I don’t see your point — He mumbled, of course he doesn’t understand

Because he doesn’t see what you see

— there’s two things that makes me think this, first he’s a person who doesn’t do things without a plan B and… he talked to me at my mother’s funeral — You mumbled the last part

It was weird to tell them about the “im a call away” situation but now that you think about it, Fisk isn’t the type of man who would give you empty promises, not knowing that no amount of money could make it up for you, he knows what you might crave

— He.. saw something, something he needs to know to avoid — you said and Tim snapped his fingers

How could he with gloves?

— that’s why they called it time travel and not something else, they’ll just see not anything else — with Tim’s words you heard how Superboy groaned a “Huh?” Not quite understanding what you’re talking about

Let’s organize this

Kingpin isn’t building something that could make him go to another universe and take things, he wants to see what could happen and use that information for a plan B, like if in one universe he gets a divorce, he could see every universe until he founds the reason and how to act against it

That’s why Lex Luthor didn’t liked his idea, is interesting but not for someone who wants to have control but for Black mask? He can keep his crime empire

— But he won’t give up, an alliance with Lex could help him more than with Black mask — Superboy said, after understanding what you two meant, well.. actually Tim explained it to him while you organized your ideas but that doesn’t matter

Now the three knows what is happening

You sighed, he was right and that just pisses you off

— We can’t see what he’s doing at Metropolis and still managed to stop their actions at Gotham —

— And you’re still not counting New York —

The three of you hummed trying to find an answer, the only one that comes to your mind is stopping him from doing an alliance with Lex Luthor and then stopping his alliance with Black mask

— We can’t leave Gotham, I can’t just put my life aside — Tim said with a tired face, for a person who also goes some work at Wayne enterprises it’s too much

And you can’t risk leaving your life aside, Bruce would notice you skipping classes and if he does he would ask about it and you’re terrible at lying, he could discover your secret identity

— Ugh, if I could only travel to metropolis in seconds, I could just disappear for a few minutes — you thought out loud and Superboy smirked

A thing Tim hates him too do

— I can help you with that! I fly so quick that you won’t see me coming, just ring me and I’ll be there — he hugs you by your shoulders pulling you closer

You had to see Tim who looked even more pissed off than before, he’s clearly not enjoying this

— I can do that —

— No you can’t! And if we are going to be a team I need to know my little bug more, don’t I? —

Little bug? Your eyes made a confusion look, one eye bigger than the other you don’t seem to understand the new nickname, you’re not a bug.

Still, you looked at Tim who ruffled his own hair in desperation

— Okay! Okay! But I swear to god Superboy, if you do something to them I’ll put so much kryptonite in your underwear you’ll be puking your organs out — you bite your cheek holding out a laugh

Superboy groaned laying on your shoulder in a dramatic way, something Tim didn’t liked at all

— You care too much, you can’t tell me you’re keeping this cutie for yourself — he shakes your body as he tried to make a point

The only thought about it makes you smile behind your mask, oh if he knew

— Ew! Don’t ever think about it, they’re my sibling —

You three froze, you blinked moving to see Superboy who had a blank expression

All the color on his face just disappeared and you had to look at Tim who looked even more pale than Superboy, that assures you that he does know Red Robin’s secret identity and knowing that

He knows yours.

Superboy turned to see you, in a moment he holds your cheeks coming closer to your face

— Are you (Reader) Wayne?! — he shouted with a surprised face, you didn’t think he could do such an expression like that.

He held you even closer trying to see through your mask eyes but before he continued Tim got him by the collar pulling him away

— Don’t act too surprised, I know you were thinking about it already —

You could see how they started an argument, they sure are like cats and dogs but that just makes it cute

You looked at your hand, the bad seam felt like it was speaking to you

How could Kingpin would “make it up” for you? He can’t bring your mother back, what sort of information can make you feel better? The question keeps haunting you before you saw how Tim pressed the comm on his ear moving a steps away

A minute later he comes back

— I need to go, would you go back home? —

— I can take them to Metropolis! They need to know where they’re patrolling the next days —

Tim looked at him ready to start another fight but you moved to face Superboy, a determinate expression on your face

— Can we go now? — You asked, Superboy looked at Tim before lifting you on his arm

You can already hear Tim asking Superboy to put you down, but he didn’t, instead he starts floating ready to go

— I’ll be back before the sun goes up, don’t worry —

And with that, both of you disappeared from the place, Tim is looking where you both were just a second ago

He sure is going to kill Conner.

You two arrived at a roof where he let’s you down, your intuition tells you you’re in front of one of Lex Luthor’s buildings

Maybe that was the place where Kingpin and him met, a good place to start actually, Superboy wasn’t actually a dumb person

— So, I have a question to ask you —

— No, I don’t shoot webs from my butt — You responded in automatic holding your chin like it would make you adjust your eyes to see even more.

Superboy laughed like he didn’t want to hide it, and that makes you wonder if it wasn’t his question

— Good to know but really — he moved closer to you, now both of you looking at the building

When did he take off his glasses? Weird

— What do you fight for? — and the question makes you lost interest on the building, now you saw him with wide eyes

You’re not sure about the answer, no one ever asked you that, I mean, Tim asked you why are you doing this but not what do you fight for

It sounds similar, but for you it is completely different

You looked down, trying to find an answer, but your brain can’t come with one, you do know that is something you need to do because no one at New York had the power to do it

But that was what your mother told you, kinda dumb, you feel like a kid on a medical appointment asking your mother to tell the doctor where it hurts but seriously

— I don’t know — You whispered, maybe you could say that it was the right thing to do but that doesn’t seem like an appropriate answer

And you can’t just say that your mother told you to do it because it doesn’t feel like a right reason to fight for.

Superboy hummed, making sure you knew he heard you

— Well, let’s find out — he hugged you by the shoulders, god what does everyone has with hugging you like that?

You don’t mind, it actually makes you feel warm enough to not shiver

— What? — You asked turning to see him, he smiled at you before moving away to poke your nose

Did he floated to do it? Not like he needed it anyways

— A reason to fight for — and it only makes you smile

Your heart feels too warm and you can tell it is because you’re happy

Though, it didn’t last long because you shivered because of the cold, before you could complain Superboy puts his jacket on your shoulders

You looked at him asking silently but he isn’t looking at you anymore, his attention now centered on the building in front of him

Without saying a word, you put it on and a smell of wood makes you wonder if he leaves in a farm

But just like he filled your heart with warmth, he made sure your body was warm too, what a gentleman.

— By the way, the name is Conner — Oh my god, how could you forget about asking him that?

#batsis!reader #batboys x batsis #batfamily #batsiblings #batfam x batsis #damian wayne x batsis #tim drake x reader #tim drake #conner kent #superboy #kon el superboy #superboy 1994 #dc superboy #kon el #kon el kent #kon el luthor #kon el x reader

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jamespotterismydaddy · 10 months ago

Text

Lord Husband (Chapter 12)

A/N: ik it took be forever to post this, pls dont crucify me. I also don't care if we have canon cregan; thats literally not my man

WORD COUNT: 1,078 words

masterlist

You gave him hope. You knew you did and perhaps you shouldn’t have. It would have been easier if you didn’t, but you think you… wanted to? Do you want to have dinner with him?

“Seven hells.” You grumble to Sȳndror after you’ve dismounted. “I suppose I have to eat with him.”

Well, you know you don’t have to. You didn’t even give him proper confirmation, but it’s much simpler to think of it as something you can’t avoid, you decide, making the walk back inside the castle.

“Draw my bath.” You say to Rose as you enter your chambers. “And you’ll need to select a proper evening gown for me today. I’ll be having my supper with Lord Stark.”

“You will?” Your handmaiden asks, looking at you as though you’ve grown a second head.

“I have just said it, haven’t I? Don’t look so bewildered.”

“My apologies.” She curtseys and runs off to start your bath.

When you walk over to the prepared tub, she begins to help you undress. “My apologies for my harsh tone. The situation is simply unusual for me.”

“You never need to apologize, princess. I understand fully.” She finishes undoing your dress and lets the garment drop before also helping you out of your shift.

“I brought him to meet Sȳndror today.” You say wistfully as you step into the perfectly hot bath. Rose always knows just how you like it.

“What prompted that?” She asks carefully, knowing that not even your closest friends have met the beast.

“He caught me watching him train. I wanted to frighten him.” You reply and she giggles.

“I would expect nothing less.” She says and begins to wash your body clean from the smell of dragon. “I also quite like watching the way the northernmen train.”

“There is something unique about the way they move.” You murmur thoughtfully.

“I would say there is something… primal in it.” Rose says with a giggle, clearly thinking about a different adjective in truth.

“Yes, it's very rough.” You muse.

“Did he get along with Sȳndror?” She asks, now running her fingers through your wet hair.

“He is not dead. So, I suppose the answer is yes.” You both giggle.

“Well, I am sure he is appreciative of the honour.”

“He doesn’t quite realize how much of an honour it is.”

“Lord Stark doesn’t know he is the first non-Targaryen you have brought to meet your dragon?” She gives you a slightly bewildered look.

“Of course not. He would be far too pleased with himself if he knew.” You roll your eyes and with your hair washed, you stand, Rose bringing you a robe.

“It is very gracious of you to allow him the meeting nonetheless.”

“I am known to be gracious.” You reply with a cheeky smile and the both of you giggle.

“I am excited that you’ll be getting more wear out of your evening gowns.” Rose says as she throws open the doors of your closet. “This one could be most suitable.” She holds out a stormy grey dress and you scoff.

“There’s no way in the Seven Hells i’m wearing Stark colours.”

“But it would make him go positively insane.” Rose muses.

“I’ll have one of my black and red gowns.” You say, ignoring her. “The one with the sleeves that Baela adores.”

“Oh, that will be a splendid choice. Lord Stark has never seen you in a proper evening gown. This one will make for a strong start.” She admires the dress in the cupboard before fetching your small clothes.

When you’re dressed, you look nothing short of phenomenal.

“He may faint from the sight of you.”

“I hope he does.” You murmur, checking yourself one last time in the mirror before strutting out of the room. “Come, Ser Robert. I will be suppering with Lord Stark.” You say to the surprised guard as you walk past him.

“You will dine… with your husband, princess?” He asks in a confused tone as he catches up with you.

“Well I just said that, did I not?” You shoot in a snarky tone.

He chuckles. “My apologies. I simply did not realize you enjoyed his company.”

“I am starting to think that I don’t enjoy your company. Perhaps I should get a new protector.”

“Any man but I will be subpar and that is the second time you have threatened to replace me today, princess. Should I be worried?”

“Not worried. Perhaps just less irritating.” You smile.

“Anything to please her highness.” He responds playfully just before the two of you arrive at one of the smaller dining halls in the castle. The doors are thrust open for you, your protector waiting just outside as you walk in.

Cregan stands when he sees you and immediately makes his way over before bringing your hand up for a kiss. “Princess.” He murmurs, not wanting to seem too casual by using your name (even if you are his wife).

“Lord Stark.” Your formality makes him frown. His own formality also made him frown.

“That dress looks beautiful on you.” He says, wanting to make sure you know he’s complimenting you and not the gown. He couldn’t care less about a few pieces of fabric.

“You are also looking well.” You murmur in response, meeting his eyes for a fraction of a second before gliding out of his hold and to your seat. You can feel the ghostly touch of his lips on your hand and you see how he lingers for just a moment before sitting down himself.

“How was your ride today?” He asks as you start to plate your food.

“‘Twas as good as it can be. Sȳndror is restless these days. He doesn’t enjoy flying as high as he used to; I think the bite of chill in the air bothers him.”

“I hope that he can settle soon. It will get warmer… in a few months' time.” Cregan tries to help, but the discussion of the passage of time unnerves you. You don’t want to think about how in a few months, you will still be here.

“He isn’t used to being alone.” Neither are you.

“Then we will have to house your brothers for a visit. I know how important family is.” He sees it then, the little glimmer in your eyes at the suggestion. Your husband feels like he’s made you somewhat happy for the first time ever.

“I would like that.”

comment to be added to the taglist

#lord husband #cregan stark fic #cregan x reader #cregan stark #cregan #cregan stark x reader #hotd x reader #hotd

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thesummerestsolstice · 6 months ago

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A Birdwatcher's Guide to Rivendell - Expected Sightings

(Exerpt from Bilbo Baggins' A Hobbit's Traveling Companion)

Many species of singing finches, some of the color and kind of the Shire, but some of bright hues– dusty pinks, deep purples, and gentle greens– that I have yet to see anywhere else.

A great number of sweet-singing nightingales.

Ducks. For the avid birders among you I would recommend visiting in the spring and early summer to ensure you see the duckling season.

An exceedingly small type of shimmering bird which does the work of a bee and which the elves refer to as "hummingbirds." Feeders are set up for them around the valley and, with much patience and time, they can be convinced to eat out of one's hand.

A number of swans, both black and white. Very elegant, though best witnessed at some distance. One of these has silver feathers and often seems to be "laughing." This one you will find on certain days only, usually following Lord Elrond.

A small population of chickens. Apparently they were a gift to Lord Elrond, and intended to be eaten, but instead have become the collective pets of the valley. They are dark-feathered and, apparently, dark-fleshed, though I can't be sure of that last bit.

Addendum to the previous note about nightingales: there is one in particular, which sings much better than the rest, though much more sadly. It is easy to recognize, as unlike all the others, it is pure white.

Owls. The natural kind in Rivendell are the horned ones, though you will occasionally also spot barn owls, which are apparently messengers from the witch of Lothlorien. They are given time to rest and eat before being sent back, and enjoy perching on any in the valley who will let them.

Doves and pigeons, of all shapes and colors, taken as both messengers and as pets by various inhabitants. Lord Elrond is occasionally numbered amongst these, though I can always pick him out.

Eagles, which are magnificent to behold. One particularly large bird– which can speak in elvish tongue– occasionally joins the household for dinner. I am told his name is Thorondor, and that he has a long-standing friendship with the Lord Glorfindel. He has also obliged my of my questions about the history of the First Age.

Pheasants and quails of many varieties. They appear to gather in the valley because hunting is forbidden there, and enjoy mostly peaceful lives because of it.

One magpie. Initially I thought there was a small population, but after careful observation, there really is just the one. He's a fiend about shiny objects, and difficult to spot, but has a rather remarkable singing voice, especially for such a bird. I have found him often in concert with the white nightingale– a behavior I have not observed amongst any other birds. It is a marvelous performance, and I wouldn't miss it.

Lindir, who has the most birdish mannerisms of any elf I've ever met, and who therefore counts as one, by my reckoning. He does also sing very nicely.

#silmarillion #the hobbit #bilbo baggins #elrond #elrond peredhel #lindir #glorfindel #daeron #maglor #thorondor #rivendell #imladris

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scotianostra · 3 months ago

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Robert Burns was born on January 25th 1759 at Alloway,Ayrshire.

Let's start the day off with the biggie!

Scotland's national poet is renowned around the world, other than Queen Victoria and religious figures there are more statues around the world to oor Rabbie than anyone else.

With people celebrating today at Burns Suppers today's post will look back at this celebration, it's history and traditions.

Remember every Burns Supper is individual and may not follow the same order or include them all.

This first supper was organised on July 21st 1801, the fifth anniversary of his passing, by the Reverend Hamilton Paul for a gathering of nine ‘honest men of Ayr’. For some years there was a question over whether a woman had been in attendance, as one of those noted had the Christian name Primrose, an uncommon name for a man. The venue was his cottage in Alloway.

The first "formal" Burns supper away from home I recall was on a weekend school trip to Innerwick in 1979, at Innerwick,it was the first timeI was called a chauvinist, and probably not the last!

It introduced all the key ingredients of the Burns Suppers we see today, namely good food, plenty of drink and friends who toasted the Immortal Memory of Robert Burns as well as reciting some of his works.

Guests at this first supper were served sheep’s head; this rarely features on modern menus! While it used to be the case that a Burns Supper was a male-only affair, this is definitely not still true.

Large Burns Suppers may have a top table for the Chairman, speakers and their partners, any special guests and the organising committee (if there is one), but you can also run a smaller and less formal affair.

The menu or Bill o’ Fare will detail what the party will be eating and usually includes a list of the speeches, speakers and entertainers. You may also find the words to ‘Auld Lang Syne’, which will be sung at the end of the evening before guests depart.

Most suppers start with a grace, most commonly ‘The Selkirk Grace’ attributed to Burns.

Some hae meat and canna eat,

And some wad eat that want it,

But we hae meat and we can eat,

Sae let the Lord be Thankit!

As a celebration night, dress can be quite formal. There’s no rule obliging a kilt to be worn but this has become common evening dress for many Scots. A dinner suit or trews (tartan dress trousers) are equally acceptable.

It should be noted that it’s very unlikely that Burns himself would have worn a kilt. He was a Lowlander and the kilt is traditionally Highland dress. It was also illegal to wear a kilt between 1747–82, in the aftermath of the Jacobite Risings.

At a more traditional Burns Night, ladies might wear a black or white dress with a hint of tartan, perhaps a tartan sash pinned to the right shoulder (only a Clan Chief’s wife should wear her sash pinned to the left).

Many suppers are ‘come as you are’. If you’re the organiser, just let your guests know how formal you intend the evening to be.

The first course is traditionally soup, either Scotch broth, cock-a-leekie or Cullen skink – all good Scottish recipes using fine Scottish ingredients.

Haggis is then served either as the main course or an intermediate course, depending on how posh your do is!

The haggis is accompanied by champit tatties (mashed potato) and neeps (mashed turnip).Sometimes carrot is mixed with the neeps, although this is not traditional. Many suppers now include a whisky sauce to accompany the haggis.

If it's a big "do" yer at the Haggis will of course be delivered on a silver platter by a procession comprising the chef, the piper and the person who will address the Haggis. A whisky-bearer should also arrive to ensure the toasts are well lubricated during "The Address to the Haggis "

There is no set tune for the piper to play, I have heard of many over the years, even the Star Wars theme during a supper with the films theme! A particular favourite of mine is A Man's A Man for A' That.

Address to a Haggis.

Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face,

Great Chieftain o’ the Puddin-race!

Aboon them a’ ye tak your place,

Painch, tripe, or thairm:

Weel are ye wordy of a grace

As lang ‘s my arm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill,

Your hurdies like a distant hill,

Your pin wad help to mend a mill

In time o’ need,

While thro’ your pores the dews distil

Like amber bead.

His knife see Rustic-labour dight,

An’ cut ye up wi’ ready slight,

Trenching your gushing entrails bright,

Like onie ditch;

And then, O what a glorious sight,

Warm-reekin, rich!

Then, horn for horn, they stretch an’ strive:

Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive,

Till a’ their weel-swall’d kytes belyve

Are bent like drums;

Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,

Bethankit hums.

Is there that owre his French ragout,

Or olio that wad staw a sow,

Or fricassee wad mak her spew

Wi’ perfect sconner,

Looks down wi’ sneering, scornfu’ view

On sic a dinner?

Poor devil! see him owre his trash,

As feckless as a wither’d rash,

His spindle shank a guid whip-lash,

His nieve a nit;

Thro’ bluidy flood or field to dash,

O how unfit!

But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,

The trembling earth resounds his tread,

Clap in his walie nieve a blade,

He’ll make it whissle;

An’ legs, an’ arms, an’ heads will sned,

Like taps o’ thrissle.

Ye Pow’rs wha mak mankind your care,

And dish them out their bill o’ fare,

Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware

That jaups in luggies;

But, if ye wish her gratefu’ prayer,

Gie her a Haggis!

Once the Address is complete, the Addresser gives a glass of whisky to the chef and the piper, and invites the whole company to ‘toast the haggis’.

The chef will then recover the haggis and leave the room to plate this part of the meal. Sometimes the haggis is passed around the table for guests to help themselves, adding tatties and neeps from large bowls placed on the table.

After the meal, the speeches and entertainment begin in earnest, starting with a toast to the monarch, known as The Loyal Toast.

This is followed by the main toast of the night, to The Immortal Memory of Robert Burns.

The Immortal Memory should be a heartfelt toast to the genius, life and works of our National Bard. At more formal dinners this speech focuses on a theme of Burns’s works, ending with a formal toast where all guests are invited to raise their glass.

The next speech will be The Toast to the Lassies, a reflection of Burns’s ‘appreciation’ of women. Traditionally, this takes the form of a witty reflection on the relationships between men and women, ending with the men rising to toast ‘the Lassies’.

This is followed by the Reply to the Toast to the Lassies. This should also be witty and seek to correct the previous speaker’s assumptions about women. The speech often ends with rousing applause from the women present, who then rise and raise their glasses to the men, toasting ‘the Laddies’.

At larger or more formal Burns Suppers, there may be further speeches that reflect on the guests and absent friends, Scotland and a formal vote of thanks.

The speeches are followed by entertainment – often including recitations and music. The night should end with a rousing rendition of ‘Auld Lang Syne’ and three cheers, marking the end of a successful Burns Night.

Among the pics are stamps from around the world, perhaps the most interesting are from Russia, (the two together) from 1956 and Romania, from 1959. The pic with the couple is Sharleen Spiteri and Ewan Mcgregor attending a Burns Night.

#scotland #scottish #history #makar #national poet #celebration

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oh-koenig-my-koenig · 1 year ago

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gaming with him

(cw: they play a shooter video game (might contain inaccuracies); age gap 25/41, nsfw, MDNI, smutty smutt with some butt stuff, bit of spanking; evolving their dynamic a little more)

the part before: talking on the phone

Ding dong.

Oh, that must be him. I put the ladle down and hurry to the front door. I open it up and his tall stature is filling the whole doorframe. His broad shoulders, the worn leatherjacket almost brushing the sides.

“Hi.”, he says, smiling at me, his long dark hair falling to the front as he looks down at me.

“Hi.”, I smile up at him and step to the side to let him in.

He almost hits his head when he steps through the door, the top of his hair brushing even as he ducks down. “Ah shit.”, he curses, and I laugh, before I get cut off by his lips on mine. A short, but big kiss.

“Sorry, my apartment isn’t made for giants.”, I say, as I close the door behind him.

He pulls of his shoes, the huge combat boots falling to the floor, before he puts them neatly on the shoe rack.

“I noticed that. Your bed is so tiny, last time I actually hit my head when I woke up.”, he tells me, a jokingly pouty grimace contorting his serious features.

“Awww, you need me to put a kiss on it?.”, I say, teasing him.

But he actually bows down until I see the top of his head. I laugh again, grabbing his face, coming closer to press my lips to his hair with his loud smooch.

“Better now?”, I ask, when he straightens back up.

“Much better.”, he says, shedding the leatherjacket, hanging it up right next to mine.

“Any other body parts you need kissed better?”, I tease him. And I half suspect him to just whip his dick out. I mean, I wouldn’t mind.

“Doncha know it.”, is all he says, while wiggling his eyebrows at me.

I roll my eyes, not being able to stop grinning. "Come on, big guy. I uh- actually cooked for us. I hope, that's okay.", I say.

He shoots me an amused look. "You cooked, how dare you.", he jokes with a serious expression on his face, following me to my kitchenette where the pasta is still bubbling away on the stove.

"No, it's uh veggie bolognese, so we can both eat it. I made it, so it has a bunch of protein, though.", I explain.

His hand strokes over my back until it rests against my waist, as he stops beside me. "I won't crumble into bits, if I don't have all of the macronutrients perfectly balanced for one meal. So, don't worry about that, okay?", he tells me.

I nod. "Okay.", giving the sauce another stir.

"Thanks for cooking for me.", he says.

I beam up at him. "You're welcome."

When the pasta is ready, I fix us two plates, a BIG portion for him and a smaller one for me, and we sit at the little table in my living room, that I barely use to eat at. Most of the days I just have dinner in front of my computer.

Mimi is not leaving him alone, the little minx totally enamored with the huge man, sitting on his lap while he eats. I offer to take her off his hands, but he refuses. The big metalhead with the black kitty that almost doesn’t show up against his dark clothes. Patting the small purring ball of fur, his big, tattooed fingers scratching her head, while he shovels the pasta into his face with the other one. It’s a picture for the gods. I lift my phone and snap a quick pic, his eyebrows shooting up at the same time as I press the shutter to save the moment.

After dinner I show him around my apartment which is done with a twirl around the main room and opening one door. I mean, he already knows the bedroom and the bath, so I don’t need to show them to him.

But I drag him into my “office” which is more like a hobby gaming room. It only has a desk and a bookshelf which isn’t anywhere near as impressive as his. He still inspects the books, his eyes lingering on my collection of classic romance novels and the anniversary edition of Lord of the Rings.

“I forgot the books I picked out at your place by the way.”, I comment.

“Pity.”, he says, shooting an amused look my way. “Seems like you have to drop by again someday.”

“Pity.”, I echo, grinning up at him.

He turns to look at me, sitting in my chair, and his gaze pans to the computer screen.

“So, games, huh?”, he asks, his voice sounding as vague as his question.

I chuckle. “Yeah, games.” I can see interest peek through the grimace on his face. “I have a lot. Too much, I can’t play them all. From Animal Crossing and Mario Kart, Baldur’s Gate and Witcher 3, to WoW, Counterstrike, ... Plus a bunch of strategy and puzzle games.”

“I don’t know what any of those games are, so you can tell me all about them.”, he says, leaning over the back of my chair.

“You never played any or just no shooter games?”, I ask him, recalling what we talked the night before on the phone.

He shrugs. “When I was younger, a friend of mine had a console where we played Super Mario, but yeah, didn’t have one of my own. Or a PC. And then later I didn’t really get into it anymore. You know, other stuff to do.”

“Yes, I see.”, I say, smiling up at him from my chair. “You wanna try?”

“Uh sure, but you gotta show me the controls.”, he answers.

I get up and let him take a seat. I want to scream (internally) when I see the big man in my gaming chair, his stature way too tall for one that is fitted to my size, almost bursting out of the seat. The backrest isn’t high enough to support his head. His thighs press against the armrests. It looks ridiculous, but he grins at me.

“So, Counterstrike? Or Animal Crossing?”, I quip, while I start the first game on my computer.

I put my headset on his head and show him how to move, the most important shortcuts. How to aim and shoot. And the ridiculous nature of our situation right now is everything but lost on me. I let him try the shooting range first, instead of queueing up for a match, I’m not a total monster.

He looks at the screen, inspecting all of the pistols and rifles. Starting to list stuff off as he goes through them, talking more than I ever heard him talk before. I just listen to him rambling like a madman who finally gets to talk about his hyperfixation as he explains the differences of the various types and models, the recoil, the spray. All the stuff I never bothered with when playing those games.

He finally found a few that are to his liking, and he chooses one of them.

Actually playing the game though? He fails miserably. Running into everything, like a bull in a china shop. He’s just aimlessly pressing buttons, his big fingers hitting more than one key on the keyboard all the time. If it was possible, he would have knocked everything over.

His shot? You couldn’t even call that aim. My small computer mouse is too small for his big hand, the sensitivity too high for him. I dial it down a bit, which helps, and I try to coach him through it, telling him which buttons to press, but I can see that frustration sets in.

“Come on, you almost had it there.”, I cheer him on, as he misses another one of the targets.

He grabs me and pulls me into his lap. "You play, I'm better at this stuff in real life." and puts the headset on my head.

"Wait, I’m not sure the chair can support both our weight!", I say.

But he doesn't let go of me, letting his head rest on my shoulder and pulling me closer. "If it breaks, I'll buy you a new one, okay?", he grumbles.

"You mean like the panties you ruined?”, I ask pointedly, hiding a little grin. The panties he ripped while we were fucking and never replaced.

“Uh, maybe.”, he answers, his face contorting into an apologizing grimace.

I laugh a little at that. “I’m just teasing you.”, I say. Pushing the one side of the headphones back to hear him better.

I adjust the height of the seat and come closer to the desk again. His one arm snakes around my waist, while his other hand strokes down my thigh. The fingers softly squeezing the supple flesh. I try not to let it deter me, as I queue up for a new match.

I shoot him a look, but his eyes are fixed on the monitor as his thumb softly strokes over my inner thigh. The only hint that he's totally doing that on purpose, is the little twitch of his mouth.

The match loads up, and I look forward again. Choosing my weapons, waiting for the time to count down.

I wait for the teammates to spread out, following one of them down A. Trying to concentrate on the game while I can feel his hand inching further up, closer to my pussy. Teasing. Grazing over it, with his fingertips.

My breath halts in my throat, and I bite my lip not to make a sound. Not giving into it, not giving him the satisfaction.

I see the enemy duck behind the wall, lining up the rifle, waiting for his head to pop up again. A moment before I take the shot, his fingers stroke over my clit, pressing down on the sensitive nub. A choked back moan drops from my lips, and I lose my focus. I miss the shot entirely, cursing, dropping my cover and getting mowed down by another enemy teammate. He chuckles, pressing soft kisses to the side of the face, moving down to my neck.

"Seems like you got hit.", he murmurs, his hot mouth coasting over the soft skin, which sends shivers down my spine. I squirm against his lap, feeling his hard length press against my ass.

The next round starts up and he nudges me. "Come on, Liebes, it's starting again."

“Yeah, yeah.”, I groan, moving with his touches, while trying to play the game.

"You can do it.", he whispers, his breath hitting the shell of my ear. His huge hand, the one that has been sitting on my waist, slips under my shirt, until he reaches my tits. Pulling down the bra a bit and toying with my nipple. Stroking over it with his thumb, making it stiffen up. Rolling the pebbled tip between his fingertips. Pinching it. His other hand circles my clit, still over the cloth of the leggings, and I feel how my wetness seeps into my panties.

I whine and bite down on my lip, my eyes fixed on the screen, trying to find the enemies. But honestly, right now, I'm just glad, I didn't get the package, because my mind is distracted by his teasing touches.

It gets even worse to focus on the game when his fingers slip into my pants, down to my already soaked underwear. He hums softly as he strokes over the puffy wet lips, his digits sliding further down until they push inside me. Just one at first, then quickly the second.

“I have a confession.”, he whispers, the voice dark and needy, as he works himself inside me slowly, stretching me.

“What confession?”, I ask, sounding breathy.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about sinking my fingers into your warm, wet pussy again.”, he drawls, being knuckle-deep inside me now. “Especially after hearing yourself do it yesterday. Knowing that you were fucking yourself with your fingers… Getting off to my voice...”

“You liked that?”, I breathe, needing to hear it, while in reality I can barely stay sane right now.

“Yes.”, the answer more a growl than the actual word.

I can’t hold back the moans any longer and his soft hums against my neck are killing me, while he presses kisses to it, and the motions of his fingers pressing into me are not helping at all.

"König, please, I-", I start, but I break off when he strokes over the sensitive spot deep inside.

"Hm, what do you mean, Liebes?", he says.

"More, more.", I sigh. My hips move of their own volition, searching for more friction.

He chuckles, the deep cocky sound, so close to my ear sending a shiver down my spine. Fuck, I don't think I can ever get enough of that. "What do you want me to do, Fräulein?", he asks, puffs of air hitting the shell of my ear. "More of what?"

I groan, a little bit, between trying to play the game and his teasing, my body and mind and torn in two. His fingers stop moving inside me, and I whimper. On the one hand I can focus better now, on the other hand I just want him. Need him. To do me.

"Come on, you can tell me.", he drawls, his voice low and soft.

"I-" The words won't come out of my mouth. I can imagine it, I have the pictures right in front of my eyes. But the words... Saying it out loud is another thing.

It even had been easier yesterday on the phone. Or when we texted. A simple “yes, please”, a small comment here and there. Teasing him a little. But fully voicing my thoughts… I don’t know why I am having a hard time with it.

“You can tell me what you want me to do, just say the words and I'll do it.”, he promises, pressing his cheek against mine.

Another round starts up and I'm already getting flamed in chat. But all my brain can think about is all the stuff I want him to do. His other hand is softly caressing my hips and thigh, while his fingers are still inside me. Not moving on their own.

"I don't know.", I finally whisper, running down one of the corridors and getting eliminated. Again. I sigh, slumping into him. His warm scent engulfs me, his huge pecs are my soft pillow.

"I know that you like it when I take control. But I also wanna hear from you. I want to know what you want.", he explains, his voice gentle. "What you like, what you don't like, what you fantasize about." He makes it all seem so... easy. Normal. No big deal. “Yesterday on the phone… I liked how you told me what you wanted.”, he adds.

It was easier, lying in my own bed, engulfed by darkness. His deep sultry voice and my own thoughts the only company. Now in the light of day, sitting here, right in his lap – while still playing a video game or at least trying… It is a completely different scenario. But I know what I want, I just need to tell him.

I swallow, once, and then I just blurt it out: "I want you to bend me over the desk and just eat me out from behind." Breathless and meek, but I said it out loud. See, it wasn’t that hard, right?

It is all I can think about right now. The memories of how he ate me out like that when I was bent over the bar are plaguing me and I just need him to do it again.

The sound coming from his throat, low and gravelly, is sending a pang of need straight between my thighs and my pussy clenches around his fingers. "Good girl.", he whispers. Oh, his voice does something to me.

He doesn’t wait and just gets up, pulling me up with him, until we both stand. Bending me over the desk, just like I said I wanted him to, so my forearms rest on the surface, my hands still on my keyboard and mouse. I can feel his erection pressing against me, as he positions me, his fingers slipping out of my pussy and his hands grabbing the waistband of my pants.

"Like this, hm?", he asks, and pulling them down. The panties must go as well, of course.

"Yes, just like that.", I whisper. Still a little... shy? No, that's not the right word. “Maybe kneeling behind me?”, I suggest, my voice barely audible.

He drops to his knees in an instant, his hands on my asscheeks. His fingertips are digging into them, pulling them apart, and I can feel my own wetness against the skin that still coats his fingers.

“For you, always.”, he drawls, huffs of air hitting the wet skin of my exposed pussy with every word. He just presses his face against me, licking me like a starved man. His tongue dips into me, he’s fucking me with it. Lapping up my juices.

And all I can do is take it while my eyes turn up and I can’t even really see the screen anymore. It seems like I failed miserably at actually playing the game.

He pulls back a bit, his lips brushing over me. “You have another round to play.”, he grumbles. The game is long lost for me and my teammates, and I can’t focus on it anyways, so I just let go of my mouse and keyboard.

“I can’t. I- Fuck.” My words turn into moans, when he licks up, dragging his tongue over my pussy. “I give up.”

He chuckles, the soft sound sending a shiver through me, before he repeats the move from, the tip of his tongue drawing a trail up, until he almost reaches my other hole. My eyes widen and my spine stiffens up. Would he…?

“You like that? When I play with your ass?”, he asks, his voice so close and deep, puffs of air coasting over the sensitive skin when he is speaking.

My breath hitches in my throat, the blunt dirty words making me choke up, but I answer: “I- I like it, yeah.”

“Good, cause I like it too.”, he says.

He pulls back a bit and spits, the filthy noise making my cheeks heat up. I can feel his saliva hit my puckered hole, the wetness dripping down a bit, before he catches it with his hand.

His fingers are softly massaging, the light touches sending zaps of pleasure through me, until he dips into me, the stretch of just one digit making me almost lose my mind.

He dives in again, his finger matching the rhythm of his tongue dipping into my pussy. And then his mouth drops down further until his lips close around my clit, sucking, gentle at first before it gets more intense. The sensations catapult me over the edge, and I come hard against his face. He doesn’t stop eating me out as I rub myself on him, feeling the tip of his nose nudge against my wet folds. Same with the roughness of his 5 o’clock shadow. Fuck, I’m really losing my mind over here.

"Please, fuck me, I need you to fuck me hard.", I sigh, throwing all my reservations out the window.

"Did anybody ever tell you that you beg so prettily?", he growls, I can feel the vibration against the sensitive skin of my pussy. Fuck, I just want him to do that again.

He gets up from the floor and a condom out of his wallet, and I hear him unbuckling his belt, the clang of metal telling me so. By now it has become quite the recurring theme, me trying to break his concentration while he puts on the condom. Shimmying my hips. Rolling my ass back into his lap. Teasing him to make him pound me even harder.

I’m putting my all into it today – a little pay back for how he distracted me while playing. I slowly move back and forth, until the swell of my butt hits his thighs, as he rips the foil packet open and rolls the rubber down on his dick.

He tuts. “Needy.” The word is a reprimanding growl while he spanks my ass. Once. Another little tradition that makes me giggle, relishing the faint sting of the slap. His fingers grip the supple flesh, his hips rutting forward, and I sigh. He lines himself up, slipping inside, just the tip. My breath halts in anticipation, I wait for him to push into me, stretch me around his dick. But he doesn’t.

I look back at him, turning my head, craning my neck. The big man is towering over me, behind me, just standing there. His hand still on my ass. And his gaze on my face.

The tip of his mouth tips up, the smirk getting wider. "Fuck yourself back. Come on.", he says, and he chuckles when he sees the expression on my face. “What? You moved your hips so prettily, just a few moments ago. You can do it.”

I groan, but the imagination alone and his little coaxing order make me even hotter. I push myself onto his dick, until my ass hits his lap. Deep, so deep. Pulling back again and feeling every inch of him slip out of me.

“But I asked for you to fuck me.”, I whine.

“Yeah, and then you had to be bratty.”, he answers. “Trying to tease me.” His voice deepens. “And brats don’t get what they want.”

Well, it seems like I did that to myself. I sigh deeply and start to move again. I can feel the wetness seep out of me when my ass hits his lap over and over again, making a total mess of him.

He doesn’t do anything, he’s just standing there, watching me fuck myself on his dick. I can feel his heated gaze on me as I bounce on him, my motions getting smoother, finding a rhythm that is driving us both crazy. Stretching my pussy around his girth, colliding with him, an immovable wall of muscle. A very turned-on immovable wall of muscle, judging by the soft groans that drop from his lips.

His hand grabs my buttcheek, squeezing a bit, before he spanks me again. That little move spurs me on, pushing myself back harder. But it doesn’t have the same impact as when he does it.

I just want more.

“König?”

“Yes, Liebes?”

His hand comes down on my ass once more, the palm colliding with the supple pillow, and the sound it makes fills the room. My hips stutter and he almost slips out of me when a shiver shakes my body.

“Please, fuck, I need you to do me.”, I beg, sliding onto his dick again, stopping as he’s seated deep inside me. I look back at him, catching my breath a bit.

“Will you be good then? Next time?”, he asks, pushing some of his hair back that’s falling over his face.

“I will, yes.”, I breathe.

“Good.”, he growls, his hands grabbing me, while he starts to pound into me. He pulls my hips back into him, packing a punch to his thrusts. The slaps of skin against skin are loud and almost obscene, intermingling with the moans that get pulled from my lips when he bottoms me out.

My whole body gets shaken, the surface that I’m still holding onto moving with every push. My headphones get shaken off my head, tumbling onto the desk. The clank of plastic hitting plastic resounds when they fall onto the keyboard. But I don’t care about that right now.

The tip of his dick hitting me deep inside floods me with arousal, my mind filled with hazy pleasure. It doesn't take long, a few hard deep strokes, and my thighs start to shake. I actually have a hard time keeping myself up. My legs buckle, but his arms steady me, as I cum around his dick.

“Fuck, Liebes.”, he groans. “Squeezing me so tight.” The last word drops out when he comes as well, pushing into me one last time, his groin colliding with my ass. I slump down and sigh, my cheek resting on my arm, as I relish the last waves of my subsiding orgasm.

He pulls back, pulls out of me, and I still just stand there, bent over my desk. Naked from the waist down, while he only got his dick out. I breathe in and out, trying to pull myself together, slowly straightening up.

He’s already gotten rid of the condom, zipping himself up again, when I turn around to put my arms around him. He leans down and gives me a kiss, a long overdue one, his hand stroking down my back, while I snuggle into him.

The waistband and lap of his jeans are a tiny bit sticky with my wetness, I can feel it as I’m pressed up against him like that. He doesn’t care in the least bit, sitting down in my chair again and pulling me into his lap. Softly playing with my hair, basking in the little comfortable silence.

“You okay?”, he asks then, pushing some strands back, brushing them out of my face, while his eyes search for mine.

“Yes. I probably got reported by my mates, but that was totally worth it.”, I answer, grinning at him.

He laughs and presses another kiss to my lips. “Yeah, sorry about that.”, he says, with a cheeky grin on his face.

“Oh, you’re not, and you shouldn’t be.”, I tell him, and I can tell by the look on his face that he is in fact not.

"So, what are those animals and why do they keep crossing?", he asks me out of the blue. I burst into laughter, almost falling off his lap. Still laughing a bit, I get the controller and start up my Switch to show him the villagers on my five-star island, while I snuggle against his chest and he wraps his arms around me.

next part: breaking the bed or more stuff in the Masterlist ~

a/n: @kathy-ifnt planted the idea for such a scene in my mind and i just had to do it... i played some CS but not a lot, generally i'm more of an RPG/WoW girlie, but i didn't wanna make you sit through me explaining how to heal a dungeon run, lol also tried to evolve their dynamic a little more explicitely... stay tuned <3 and thanks for reading as always <3

#metalhead!könig #she likes the dark #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig mw2 #könig fanfiction #cod mw2 smut #könig smut #konig smut #cod smut #könig x reader #tw: age gap

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

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Sirius Black Drabbles (1/2)

page 2

☁︎ = headcanon ✩ = 18+, mdni ♡ = mae's favs

Sirius falls in love with your cat ☁︎

Sirius with a black cat!reader ☁︎

Sirius with a shy but physically affectionate you ☁︎

Sirius x chatty!reader ☁︎

Sirius and James both like you ☁︎

Sirius and whimsical reader talk astrology ☁︎

You worry Sirius may leave you ☁︎

Sirius x coquette!reader ☁︎

Sirius x curly haired!reader dying her hair ☁︎

Sirius has a crush on you ☁︎

Sirius and snowball fights ☁︎

You paint your nails to match Sirius' (he's weak for it)

Sirius teaches you about your curly hair

You struggle with eating, and Sirius distracts you

Sirius can't get enough of you ♡

Rockstar!Sirius comes to see you after his show

Bodyguard!Sirius confesses to princess!reader

Sirius helps when you dissociate after a traumatic event

You're Sirius' biggest hype woman

You get Sirius a customized motorcycle helmet, and he's totally soft for it

Sirius lords his French (and your lack thereof) over you

You and Sirius are the poster couple of defying gender roles

Big brother!Sirius when you get beat up

Fwb!Sirius urges you to de-stress

Sirius loves you (and, secondly, your warm softness)

Sirius gets a tattoo of your name

Sirius is your (occaisionally airheaded) pretty boy

Bodyguard!Sirius saves you from a kidnapping attempt

Sirius takes care of you after a night out

Ceo!Sirius is soft only for you

Sirius gets a lesson in casual misogyny

Sirius is totally flustered by coquette!reader

Sirius finds you sleeping in his clothes

You're unsure about your Christmas gift to Sirius

You can't fathom Sirius liking you (he definitely does) ♡

Sirius thinks your scar is adorable

Sirius does secret magic tricks for whimsical!reader ♡

Sirius offers some study help when you're stressed

Sirius coddles you after you get a piercing

Sirius helps you through a panic attack | cont.

Fwb!Sirius gets a tad jealous

Player!Sirius likes that you're a red flag ♡

You and Sirius get rough in bed

Bartender!Sirius takes a liking to you ♡

You're overwhelmed by love for Sirius

You do Sirius' makeup

You're sensitive, and Sirius gives good hugs

Sirius is obsessed with your back dimples

Sirius is stern about motorcycle safety

Sirius gives you a massage

You're easily spooked and Sirius is protective

You won't admit you're mad at Sirius

Sirius hurts shy!reader's feelings

You only want Sirius when you're hurt

Prince!Sirius x princess!reader (cont. on page 2)

Prince!Sirius meets princess!reader He's your first time ☁︎✩ He flirts with you at a ball He takes you out on the town He helps you study for a dinner

Sirius is attacked by a drunk you

Sirius takes care of you when you're sick ♡

Rockstar!Sirius helps with your homesickness ♡

A buzzed Sirius takes care of you when you green out

You and Sirius talk family trauma

Sirius helps you get over your fear of dogs

You won't let Sirius touch you when you have cramps

Sirius wants you to be gentle with yourself

Sirius is enamored with whimsical!reader ♡

Sirius helps you to quit smoking weed

Plus size!you find Sirius in your clothes

You confess feverishly to fwb!Sirius ♡

Tattoo artist!Sirius gives you your first ink ♡

Big brother!Sirius comforts you after a breakup

Sirius is obsessed with your belly button piercing

Sirius helps hearing impaired!reader at a loud party

Whimsical!reader gets into a scrape with Padfoot ♡

You accidentally confess your love for your friend Sirius

Sirius reassures an inexperienced you

Bartender!Sirius steps in when you're roofied

A sleepy Sunday with Sirius

Sirius paints his nails to match your lips

Sirius patches you up

Sirius barters to get back on your good side

Sirius is obsessed with your lipstick ♡

Sirius is your neighbor, and your building's fire alarm goes off

Rockstar!Sirius is protective when your drink is spiked

Bodyguard!Sirius protects you from the cold

Sirius tries to say "I love you" (with some trial and error) ♡

Sirius pulls out all the stops to quell your migraine

You comfort Sirius after a trying day

Sirius reassures you that sex isn't shameful ✩

Doting aftercare with Sirius ✩♡

You're catching feelings for fwb!Sirius ✩ | cont ✩

Ceo!Sirius fits you into his schedule ✩

You and Sirius (lovingly) fight for dominance ✩

Sirius gets acquainted with your vibrator ✩

Sirius is your first time ✩

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black drabble

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petercapaldi-press · 2 months ago

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Peter Capaldi: 'You don't just play the Doctor, you represent him' The Telegraph

INTERVIEW

12 September 2015 6:00am BST

Chloe Fox

'What do you say we have dinner in the Tardis?’ Peter Capaldi, aka the 12th Doctor, is looking at me from over the top of his Wayfarer sunglasses with a bird-like intensity; head cocked to the side, a mischievous light in his beady blue eyes.

Fresh from the set (a nearby solar-panel factory in Cardiff that has been dressed up as the kitchen of a spaceship where a monster has been trying to eat everyone in his path), dressed in skinny black jeans and a T-shirt, with his trademark Dr Martens boots, Capaldi crackles with exactly the same combination of fierce intelligence and nervous energy as his Doctor – a darker, edgier, slightly more unpredictable version of what has come before.

This will be Capaldi’s second season at the helm of a sci-fi television show that, now in its 52nd year (with a 16-year hiatus from 1989 to 2005), is the longest-running in history. Distributed to more than 200 territories worldwide, viewed in the UK alone by an average of six million per episode, adored by its legions of obsessive ‘Whovian’ fans, Doctor Who is nothing short of a global phenomenon.

Capaldi, 56 at the time of casting (he’s 57 now), was the oldest Doctor to debut since the very first doctor, William Hartnell, did so aged 55 in 1963. To some, his was a slightly left-field casting. His immediate predecessors, David Tennant and Matt Smith – 34 and 26 respectively when they got the job – were younger, twinklier, more user-friendly versions of the Time Lord. And yet, Capaldi’s older, more volatile incarnation – who shows zero tolerance towards all things romantic – very quickly won his way into Whovian hearts across the spectrum. ‘A class act’, declared The Daily Telegraph. ‘A fantastic, fascinating lead performance,’ said Digital Spy.

By the time series eight (his first) ended – with a thrilling denouement in which the Doctor was made President of the World and his arch-nemesis, the Master, was reincarnated as a woman (brilliantly played by Michelle Gomez as a sort of malevolent Mary Poppins) – Capaldi’s rightness for the role was established.

‘What I wanted to do, I suppose, was remind people of the alien-ness of the Doctor,’ Capaldi says. ‘Doctor Who isn’t a human being, you see. He’s a creature of the cosmos. His social skills aren’t great. He doesn’t care very much if people like or dislike him, because people aren’t his thing, you know?’

We are now sitting in the Tardis – surely the most thrilling interview location of all time – where Capaldi, who is nearing the end of nine months of filming series nine, looks touchingly at home. Often, between thoughts, he gazes reverentially up at the ceiling as if it were the vaults of a church. Long legs crossed, jacket off, vampirically pale, thin hands wrapped around the pot of Wagamama noodle soup that is his supper, you can see glimpses of the boy who penned endless fan letters to the show’s producers and who applied for presidency of the Doctor Who Fan Club aged 14.

In person, Capaldi is a much gentler, more rarefied presence than you might expect, especially if you were a fan of his brutally funny spin doctor, Malcolm Tucker, in Armando Iannucci’s Bafta-winning political satire The Thick of It. He speaks quietly, with an elegant Glaswegian drawl. Questions are answered thoughtfully and with a real interest, even though they are probably questions he has been asked dozens, if not hundreds, of times before. ‘Am I enjoying myself? Hmm, let me see… Am I enjoying myself?’ he says, looking around a set that has been specifically customised to suit the personality of his more retro, 1960s-style Doctor – a glass table here, a hexagonal window effect there. ‘Well, just look at this place,’ he says, with a sweep of a long arm. ‘How on earth can I not be enjoying myself?’

Capaldi concedes, however, that the first season was ‘terribly nerve-racking for me because not only was the job new, but I was also getting a level of attention that I simply wasn’t used to’. And in filming the second series, the challenges, he admits, have morphed – in true Doctor Who style – into something else.

‘I don’t feel I’ve nailed it yet – from an acting point of view, I mean,’ he says. ‘I don’t yet feel that I know how to do this. Quite who the Doctor is remains mysterious to me – which is of course as it should be – but one of the biggest challenges that I’ve found, and am finding, is that you have to sort of be able to spin on a penny. You have to be able to go from pantomime to tragedy, from domestic to epic, within a single scene. You have to keep the ball in the air, and you have to remember,’ – and here he grins wryly – ‘that The X Factor is on the other channel. You have to remember that there are people watching in America, you have to remember that, as much as you want to apply your mature acting instincts, there are actually lots of children watching. You’ve got to cover all these bases, and make it exciting and interesting too. It’s a great challenge – and, by the way, I really don’t say that lightly – and one which I care very much about getting right. Because it’s big, isn’t it? It’s really big.’

When Capaldi speaks of the weight of responsibility that comes with such an iconic role, he shifts imperceptibly into the second person, as if distancing himself from its magnitude. ‘It can be quite intimidating when you look down, do you know what I mean? Because Doctor Who exists on quite a big scale, in terms of its importance to the BBC and to its fans. You don’t just play Doctor Who; you represent him. You represent the 50 years in which he has meant an awful lot to an awful lot of people. And the weight of it – and I really would never want to seem ungrateful – is that it is continual. It is very, very nice because people always greet you with a certain affection, but it is basically every day, everywhere you go.’

When Capaldi got the job, one of his first actions was to pick the brains of his predecessors. ‘I knew David a little bit but I didn’t know Matt at all,’ he explains. ‘They were both very kind, very generous and refreshingly honest. They both made it quite clear to me that the role would bring, shall we say, a greater visibility, and they gave me very good advice as to how to handle it.’

First and foremost, retain a sense of humour at all times. ‘It’s all showbiz silliness really,’ he says, laughing. (On the day his casting was announced on a prime-time BBC special hosted by Zoë Ball, he was given a codename – Houdini – and bundled, gangster-style, into a chauffeur-driven car with a blanket over his head.)

‘Peter has a large anti-bullshit-ometer inside him,’ says his friend, the actor Richard E Grant (who starred in the short film Franz Kafka’s It’s a Wonderful Life, which Capaldi wrote and directed and for which he won an Oscar). ‘And because his fame and recognition have come relatively late in his career, his hilarious cynicism about the yo-yo nature of showbusiness abides.’

Take Comic-Con, for instance. A couple of weeks before our meeting, Capaldi – along with his co-stars and the Doctor Who writer Steven Moffat – flew out to the convention in San Diego for a promotional event. For the two days before the convention started, Capaldi was doing press in his hotel. Wherever he went, he was accompanied by six security guards. ‘Six! Can you believe it?! And they all kept telling me that I couldn’t leave the hotel because, if I did, I’d be mobbed. And then I’d look out of the window and all I’d see would be this little Yoda walking down the street. So eventually I’d had enough and I said, “Come on, guys, you’ve got to let me go,” So they did – although the heavies came with me, of course. And, do you know what? Not a single person recognised me. Not one.’

Unsurprisingly, this wasn’t to last. The group sat down for dinner and, before long, queues were forming for selfies. Which was when Capaldi’s second code for coping came into play: ‘Just enjoy it.’

He understands the obsessed fans, because he himself was one of them. Teased at school for being a sci-fi geek – he was given the derogatory nickname Moon Man because of his obsession with the moon landings – the young Capaldi was far from cool. Not that he cared too much, because he was also very loved. ‘It was very safe, full of delights,’ he says of his early childhood in a tenement block in the Springburn region of Glasgow. His parents – Italian-born Gerry and Irish-born Nancy – ran a cafe in the bottom of the tenement, from which they operated an ice-cream-delivery business.

Family were everywhere: both grandmothers, plus uncles, aunts and cousins all lived in the same block. There was lots of noise, laughter, spaghetti, a Beatles soundtrack and, of course, Doctor Who. ‘To me, it was like a fairytale,’ he explains of his childhood obsession. ‘It had that quality of darkness that you find in a Grimm’s fairy tale: this strange creature of a man who takes you on all these adventures, but who always keeps you safe. That’s absolutely what I want the children who watch my version to feel.’

For Capaldi, Doctor Who is inextricably linked to his childhood. ‘It will always be a part of me,’ he says. Earlier this year, just before he was due to start filming the current series, Capaldi’s beloved mother – who had sent him the Doctor Who annual every year, well into his adulthood – died. It was a source of great pride to her that his visits to her hospital bedside were always accompanied by the happy squeals of just about every nurse in the hospital, coming to catch a glimpse.

Growing up, he didn’t really know what he wanted to be; he just knew he didn’t want to join the grey ranks of ‘depressed-looking souls standing at the bus stop in the rain every morning’. In those days there was only one place to go if you didn’t want to be like everybody else: the Glasgow School of Art.

Submerged in an ethos of creativity, Capaldi embraced the beginnings of punk. He was lead singer of a band called the Dreamboys – who mercifully changed their name from the Bastards From Hell (and whose members included Craig Ferguson, of The Late Late Show fame) – and he also began to harbour dreams of becoming an actor. One night, in 1983, he got home drunk to his Glasgow flat to find his costume-designer landlady chatting to the film director Bill Forsyth, who saw enough promise in Capaldi’s innocent charm to cast the 25-year-old opposite Burt Lancaster in his Scottish seaside fable Local Hero.

A decade, and a few bit parts later – most notably as John Malkovich’s manservant in Dangerous Liaisons – Capaldi wrote and directed the aforementioned short (in which his actress wife, Elaine Collins, co-starred with Richard E Grant) and, totally unexpectedly, won an Oscar.

For a brief, glittering moment, Hollywood beckoned (the couple bought a house in Crouch End, London, with the proceeds from a Miramax option on a feature-film idea) but then, as so often happens in Hollywood, the lights went off again.

When, after the best part of 15 years spent taking whatever hand-to-mouth acting jobs he could get – a Ruth Rendell Mysteries here, a Foyle’s War there – Capaldi got the call to audition for Armando Iannucci, he didn’t get his hopes up. In fact, the whole audition experience was so turgid and long-winded that, by the time he actually met Iannucci himself, Capaldi was simmering with rage; a rage that was to change his life by landing him the part of Malcolm Tucker.

Contrary to common belief, Malcolm Tucker was not based on Alastair Campbell. He came instead from Hollywood, from the American agents and producers – ‘malevolent forces in Armani suits’ – that Capaldi had witnessed, first-hand, barking foul obscenities down the phone at people. His ‘failure’, it turned out, had not been for nothing.

If the success of The Thick of It was a door opening for Capaldi, Doctor Who has been a floodgate from which there is no going back. ‘Would I have appreciated it as much if it had happened 20 years ago?’ he muses. ‘Almost definitely not.’

Happily, the timing of his success suits Capaldi’s life. With his wife now working as a television producer (she gave up acting for a more financially reliable line of work) and their daughter, Cecily, at university, Capaldi can be based in Cardiff from Monday to Friday and return to family life at weekends. ‘And it’s a shock when I do,’ he jokes. ‘Because I’m certainly not allowed to be number one on the cast list there. Here I spend all week with people taking me everywhere I need to go, checking I have everything I need, driving me the three minutes to and from my lovely waterside apartment to the studio, making me endless cups of coffee, loving me wherever I go; and there I am expected to have my feet on the ground. But I don’t want my feet on the ground, goddammit!’

He is too gracious to say it, but Capaldi is definitely tired and homesick. With 13 episodes a year, not to mention the promotional whirl, being the Doctor is more than a full-time job. He has even developed the same knee complaint that had Matt Smith – ‘who is about 12, for God’s sake!’ – on crutches at their first meeting. ‘It’s something to do with running down corridors and turning round very quickly to deliver lines,’ he says, laughing.

Nevertheless Capaldi is uncomplaining. ‘All this will come to an end, you see,’ he says, looking around him at the Tardis. ‘It might just be my Scottish melancholia, but the very first day I found out I’d got the job, I started to feel sad that one day I would not have it; that there would come a day, in the not too distant future, that I wouldn’t be Doctor Who any more. And that is why I try really hard to get as much out of it as possible. Because one day I’ll just be an overweight has-been, trying to get a meeting with Jenna Coleman [Clara, the Doctor’s companion] and being ejected from a Doctor Who Convention in Bolton for being drunk and disorderly. I mean, this is surely my high point, isn’t it?’

Doctor Who returns to BBC One on September 19

#peter capaldi #interview #doctor who #the telegraph #2015

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