#or are they just like 'why the fuck do i care about who the prime minister of hungary is endorsing???'

[donnerpartyofone]

I should really be ashamed to complain about this but since there's nothing left of this world anyway (TL;DR everything is so remarkably shitty now down to the smallest little annoying details, exponentially shittier than it was five and then ten years ago, and it's fucking crazy-making):

For work, I need to watch a movie that I know is on Prime. I go into Prime and look up the one-word title. It gives me a short list of "top results", not including my movie. Under "top results" is a slew of other lists of movies, broken down by varying made-up subgenres; at a glance, none of the titles even contain the word I searched for, and none of them have anything to do with what I specifically want. I close the Prime app and open Plex, whose search function immediately tells me that the exact the movie is in Prime, and links me to it. By clicking the link in Plex, I am able to watch the movie on Prime.

I don't know what Prime is thinking. There seems to be an assumption that when I look for one exact thing that I know I want, that that's not really what I'm doing -- I'm actually secretly saying "Uh, I dunno, just like, pitch me something, find something to sell me on, I don't really care." How the fuck is that better business? Because Prime refused to serve me something that I explicitly asked for, in favor of pushing a whole bunch of shit I don't want but that it assumes is more popular with other people, I almost didn't use their service at all. There was no world in which I was going to give up on my actual requirement and just allow myself to be forced into some other unrelated, unwanted waste of time. And this is not because I'm such a frugal and conscientious consumer, I'm not really that smart even, but I wanted A SPECIFIC THING and if I didn't get it, then that would be the end. Why is there no way for me to get the FULL MATCHING RESULTS, why is there only "top results" and then a bunch of shit I didn't ask for? When did the search function just become like a random, vaguely-related recommendations engine? How is this supposed to help Prime get my business? I mean really, I didn't enjoy this experience, but how does this strategy even serve their own corporate greed?

YouTube does a similar thing to me where it will notify me about a new video from one of my subscriptions, and if I click on that, the app opens with the video playing in a little tiny reduced window shoved to the side of all these browsing options. Like as soon as I say "yes, I want X," YouTube instantly doesn't care; it only wants me to keep shopping around for other stuff that I have not said "yes" to already. It's like a bad boyfriend who isn't interested in what you actually consent to, he's only interested in what he can bully you into, that you would have otherwise avoided.

(I guess the physical-world equivalent would be the type of consumer who is in a permanent, almost subconscious retail therapy spiral, where they do way more browsing and buying than they do using and enjoying. The person's home is full of unopened packages and they probably wind up re-buying a lot of stuff because they don't even know what they own. This is probably every company's ideal customer now, and maybe this is why if I order an item from an online store, that store will email me every single day to try to make me buy the same exact item again, as if the thing I want is only the pleasure of buying, rather than owning and using the item.)

It drives me crazy when I see these arguments online about how you're a stupid idiot if you think that the internet is shittier and more intensively commercialized than it used to be. I think it's often that the cohort of people who are really techy and net-savvy overlap with people who are a little conservative in that way where they are instantly enraged if they hear some soft-hearted rube complaining about the dominant system. If this type of person sees a post by some glum little liberal about how the internet used to be more fun and easier to use, they will immediately shit right on top of that guy's head just to be spiteful, often using a small armory of data to gaslight the plaintiff into thinking that their problems are imaginary. It's the same as that thing that happened recently where a bunch of mean-spirited libertarian-flavored blogs started making all these posts explaining that the American economy is doing awesome and anyone who thinks that inflation is happening is a stupid piece of shit. Which was like, OK fine, all those graphs and numbers you got from right-wing think tanks look great; I take it back, there's no inflation or whatever, but now you have to give me a different word to use to describe why I can't afford anything anymore and everyone I know is in a constant, desperate search for a place to live where they won't starve.

[starlooove]

All that to say while it’s not tagged so whatever the inclusion of tam in fics to react to anything tim does or happens to him where she’s a glorified assistant bc y’all are just socially aware enough to realize how including her just for that would come across is. Something.

[startheskelaton]

Holy shit what happened last night… oh primus my head

Lord Megatron thank the all spark your alive!

Alive? Of course I’m alive! Lord Megatron will never fall! Now tell me why the room is spinning

Well lord megatron, you drank like 15 buzzballs, a bottle of pink Whitney and a Sheryl temple with no cherry… you kinda tore up the whole base sir…we had to confiscate your phone at one point because you kept texting Optimus Prime our location for a… ah.. “nut and go”… sir.

I DID WHAT!!!?? OH NO! Now prime knows I’m thinking about him and he’s gonna hold that over me for a good few months, shit! If I end up on Reddit I’m gonna lose it.

Really sir… that’s what you’re mad about?..okay whatever. Starscream has your phone by the way, but I wouldn’t worry too much. You still have a Nokia and the most he could do is beat you over the head with it.

LORD MEGATRON LOOK!! Optimus Prime responded to your messages with a “new number who dis” that means he really doesn’t care about you anymore!!

Give me that shit….he said “bet” you fucking lier. Starscream how’s your relationship with Jetfire? Going good?

Sorry sir.

Yeah that’s what I thought, now text him back immediately!! We might be able to salvage this.

Elsewhere

DAD!! YOU CANT JUST GO BANG YOUR TOXIC EX!! IF YOU DO THAT MEANS THEY WIN!!How many times have we been over this, no phone for a month

Oh dang it

[cressidagrey]

Stars all aligned - Chapter 10

Summary:

If there was one thing that both Azriel and Zahra Archeron had in common, it was that they were both very good at blending into the background.

They just never thought that their family were going to be the ones who never saw them at all.

Warning:

I'll keep the warnings, even though there is no outright mention in this part: Bashing of like...every IC member? Especially the Archeron Sisters, discussion of chronic pain, discussion of Infertility, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Underage Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Accidental Baby Procurement

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please, take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

(Lovely dividers thanks to @sweetmelodygraphics)

Cassian was so fucking furious that he could nearly taste it.

The anger was like fire in his blood, his muscles tensing and his hands clenched so hard that his very bones creaked and groaned in protest.

He should have seen it earlier. He should have...he should have fucking stopped to think for once.

But he hadn't.

And now they had this fucking mess at their hands.

They were such goddamn idiots. All of them.

The guilt in him was like a physical thing, churning in his stomach, the feeling nearly making him sick.

“Where did he put her?" Nesta demanded and Cassian closed his eyes, forcing himself not to unleash his anger at his mate.

Even if he wanted to. Even when he really wanted to. 

“Even if I knew, you would be the last person I would tell," he bit out.He knew the words were cruel, but Cassian couldn't bring himself to care right now.

Not when he was too caught up in his own anger and horror. 

He met Nesta’s gaze, her grey eyes narrowed in a familiar, hard look he had seen countless times before.

Just that this time…he wasn’t going to back down. 

He was not. 

"You have no right to Zahra right now," Cassian said, his voice flat. "Not after we just all heard what exactly you think about bastards." The words tasted bitter on his tongue.

He heard both Feyre and Elain inhale at the comment, but he couldn't bring himself to feel bad about it.

"I don't care that you..." Nesta blurted out, suddenly seemingly having realised that her own mate was a bastard just as her sister.

Cassian couldn't help the bitter snort he left out. “You don’t care that I am just as much a bastard as Azriel is? As Zahra is?” he asked Nesta drily. “All bastards are siblings in a way. And I can promise you one thing, Nesta: your sister hasn't chosen the circumstances of her birth. And to hate her because of something like that...something she had absolutely no control about…" he broke off, shaking his head. "How dare you, Nes?"

"She's a constant fucking reminder of how useless our father was!" Nesta yowled.

So that was it. 

That was the crux of the problem. 

"That seems to be a you problem," Cassian sniped back. "It has nothing to do with Zahra. She hasn't done anything to you. If anything, she has clearly sacrificed herself to keep you alive.”

Nesta flinched at the word, her hands curling into fists, but Cassian couldn't bring himself to feel guilty when it was the damn truth.

"Even if I knew where she was, I wouldn't tell you," Cassian repeated. "And you know why? Because getting between a mate and his female is the most idiotic thing you can do, Nesta. Azriel's instincts are primed right now, not helped by the fact that every instinct is screaming at him about the fact that his mate was hurt. You upset Zahra, and it could be the last straw for him. My brother is lethal. You wouldn't even know he is coming."

And even when he was so fucking angry with Nesta right now, he still loved her. She was still his mate. 

Nesta looked like she wanted to snap back, to spew her fury and hurt and anger, but Cassian couldn't bring himself to let her.

Not when he himself was so furious at her.

He didn't know how Azriel kept himself in check after what they just heard...he really didn't. He didn’t know how his brother hadn’t just…gone on a murder spree. 

"I would suggest you reflect on what exactly your problem is with your sister, because otherwise none of us are ever going to let you get close enough to her to see her again," Cassian said frostily. 

"So you are in her side?" Nesta bit out.

"There are not fucking sides!" Cassian roared. "Your sister let herself be raped for years to keep you alive! The least fucking thing you owe her is some modicum of respect!"

Both Feyre and Elain whimpered softly at the words, their faces ashen as they recoiled in shock, not expecting his words.

But it was the damn truth.

At least there was no Amren there that could make some of her smart quips. Cassian was quite sure he would have tried to kill her too tonight. She was off somewhere with Varian…not there to see the meltdown. .

Which left Mor clutching her glass of wine and Emerie watching it all with crossed arms... and Lucien who looked like he would prefer to be anywhere else.

"Cassian is right," Rhys’ words cut through the quiet. Rhys' words drew Nesta's attention and she tensed, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed as she met his gaze.

But Rhys met her gaze, unflinching and utterly impassive, letting her rage fall flat against him.

Cassian could nearly feel the resentment radiate off of her and he had to grit his teeth hard to keep his own temper from spilling out.

He could nearly taste the fury in the air, the tension high enough that it was nearly suffocating.

"Azriel is Zahra's mate. Which means that what he says goes," Rhys said, his voice carefully even. "I would hope the same respect would be afforded to each of us in a similar situation.” 

The way he said it felt like a warning, and Cassian felt the slight easing of tension in the room at Rhys' words.

"He can't just keep us away from our sister!" Feyre snapped.

"I want to apologise," Elain said weakly.

"If he keeps you away from your sister then I imagine your sister doesn't want to see you," Rhys said sharply. "And for cauldron's sake, Elain, in this particular instance it really doesn't matter what you want!"

Both Feyre and Elain flinched slightly at the sharp words, the two of them shrinking back slightly like chastened children.

Cassian just stared at his brother, Rhys liked Elain. Under normal circumstances he would never talk to her like that.

It was a sign of just how furious all of them were.

How furious they all were at the whole situation.

"The least you can do under these circumstances is respect Zahra's ... choice. It seems to me like she hadn't had that often enough," Rhys continued, his voice like ice. "That goes for you too, Morrigan," he added, his voice sharp.

"I haven't even done anything!" Mor complained.

Rhys just growled under his breath. "I know you. If Feyre asks you, I imagine you would be right at Az's doorsteps and would count on the fact that his fondness for you would keep you safe. Which it won't because a mating bond trumps everything, and you know that," Rhys said sharply.

Mor flinched but her eyes narrowed in obvious fury, her knuckles turning the color of white bone as she clenched her fist, clearly upset at the words.

"I don't even know where he brought her," she hit back.

Cassian snorted. "We all know where he brought her," Cassian drawled. Just one place that Azriel could control enough that he would be sure it would keep Zahra safe. Just one place where he would trust the person there implicitly. "There is just one place that has wards tight enough to even have the slightest chance to keep out Rhys, and you know," he said drily. Rosehall.

Where Azriel's mother lived. "Though I wouldn't suggest you show up there unannounced, because Esmeray hates you."

"She doesn't hate me," Mor gave back frostily, crossing her arms.

"She isn't particularly fond of you, then," Cassian said with a sigh.

Mor let out a huff of breath and Cassian couldn't help the dry snort he left out. He knew damn well that Mor had tried to befriend Esmeray... and he also knew that her attempts had gone nowhere.

Mostly because if someone broke Esmeray's baby boy's heart...she fiercely disliked them. He could probably count himself lucky that Azriel never seemed to have mentioned Cassian's part in that whole saga to his mother.

Probably because Azriel knew that Cassian would be the one on the receiving end of Esmeray's wrath.

"Who is Esmeray?" Feyre asked.

"Azriel's mother," Rhys answered evenly.

Feyre blinked, her expression blank as she let out a soft "Oh."

"She's terrifying," Cassian added drily. "Chances are if you would show up there unannounced she would chase you off with her fabric scissors, before Azriel even needed to say a single word to you."

Mor huffed but this time there was no bite to it, and Emerie let out a muffled snort of amusement.

"She survived his father for 30 years, she has learnt one thing or another about cruelty," Rhys said, his voice dry."You'll leave Zahra and Azriel alone. Have I made myself clear?"

Cassian grimly watched the way both Feyre and Elain lowered their heads, nodding in defeat but the tension in their shoulders told him everything.

***

Zahra woke up to Azriel's cursing as he rolled out of bed.

She blinked, trying to force her brain to focus despite the lingering drowsiness.

"Az? What's wrong?" She asked, waking up more and more. It was still ridiculously early, the sun not even having come up yet.

Azriel let out a low growl that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

She pushed herself up into an upright position, trying to focus in the dim room as she tried to spot him in the darkness.

"The shadows kidnapped a baby."

Well, that woke her up.

She was after him in a flash, managing to grab her sweater from the chair as she followed him downstairs. The house was cold and quiet and...dark.

And then she froze.

What in the world...

They shadows had actually kidnapped a literal baby. It hadn't actually registered until she saw it with her own two eyes.

A baby.

An Illyrian baby. If the little wings slumped to the floor were anything to go by.

The baby sat on the floor, staring at them with big dark eyes. It wasn’t newborn. It could sit up…mostly unasssisted if a little wobbly. 

The shadows writhed around the room, agitated as they curled and moved, seemingly restless.

And the baby...the baby didn't seem to be upset or scared despite the fact that they had just been kidnapped. The baby's gaze didn't shift from them, big brown eyes watching them with wide but calm expression.

Not scared at all, even when a bunch of shadows had just kidnapped said baby and dumped them on the carpet in the midst of a strange new room. 

Bruises painted painfully thin little arms that stuck out of a filthy and lumpy dress that had seen much better days. Zahra had seen kids of horrible poor people that looked better than this one did.

"Cauldron boil me," Azriel breathed just as Zahra stepped towards the baby that still just stared at her.

"Be careful," Azriel warned her but didn't try to stop her.

Zahra just stared at him. 

"It's a baby," Zahra said drily. What was the baby supposed to do to her? "Just a baby. Hey, sweetheart," she cooed and the baby stared at her wide eyed. "You must be so confused..." but she didn't seem confused as Zahra kneeled in front her. The baby just kept staring at her. "Where are her parents?" She hissed under her breath knowing that Azriel would hear her nonetheless.

Her mother died in childbirth, the shadows helpfully supplied. And her father locked her in a dungeon.

…what?

Zahra's blood ran cold, the words making her feel sick to her stomach.

What sick kind of...

She stared at the baby in front of her, the too skinny limbs, the bruises, the filth sticking to her skin, the clothes that didn't fit her.

This was wrong, the whole thing was wrong.

"Azriel, what..." Esmeray's voice. Zahra turned to find Azriel's mother ... ashen faced. Though Azriel didn’t look much better.

"By the mother," Esmeray breathed. "She looks just like you." Zahra turned back to the baby, taking in the hazel eyes and the black cut hair... the full lips, the proud nose...a straight up copy from Azriel.

She's his half brother's bastard daughter, the shadows helpfully provided. We couldn't just leave her in the dungeon!

The words had Zahra turning her attention back to the baby, the resemblance now glaringly obvious.

A spitting image of Azriel, as close as she could be without being a carbon сору.

She's just a baby!

Just a baby. Just an innocent little baby that somebody locked into a fucking dungeon. 

How dare they?!

Something warm and possessive welled up in her, her heart twisting. 

Zahra didn’t hesitate another moment.  "Come here, sweetheart," she said softly, picking her up. "We'll get you all cleaned up."

Zahra had expected something from the baby at that. Some form of protest at being picked up by a stranger woman. But the baby stayed silent, just watching… flinching away from her touch, even when Zahra did her best not to hurt her.

That little flinch away made Zahra's heart twist once more, the baby clearly having been treated terribly.

She carried the baby over to the kitchen sink to wash her…The poor thing was covered in dirt and grime, her short hair matted and tangled in filthy strands.

Zahra held the baby carefully, her hands almost impossibly gentle as she tried not to hurt the girl as she filled the sink with warm water to start washing her.

"Does she have a name?" She asked the shadews.

No. No one cared enough to give her one. the shadows said softly, their voice sad and soft in a way she hadn't heard it before.

This poor baby didn't even have a name, just... nothing.

Like…she was nothing. Thrown away into a dungeon. Forgotten. Ignored. 

It made something rage bubble and roil in Zahra’s gut.

This tiny, innocent child didn't have a name. The idea made tears well up in her eyes as she cupped the baby's cheek gently.

The baby just looked at her wide eyed, still not making a noise, even as Zahra undressed her from her filthy rags.

Zahra gritted her teeth as her blood boiled as more bruises and more grime were revealed, her movements becoming slightly shaky as she tried to not think about it.

She carefully put her in the warm water, the baby jerking once in her grip and then seemingly making peace with her fate, as Zahra cleaned off the grime, showing more bruises painting her skinny little body.

The baby let out a soft whine in pain, a small whimper that made Zahra nearly break down as she had to move her hands around the baby to clean her.

She couldn’t help herself, just wanting to take the pain away, as her hands started to glow.

The bruises and sores seemed to just...fizzle away, the healing magic working its way through the abused skin.

At the feel of the magic, the baby's head snapped back to look up at Zahra, her eyes widening.

And then for the first time, a light seemed to come back in these impossible sad eyes...as she made a soft cooing sound and reached for the harmless little sparks that were flowing of her hands. And then....a gigggle.

It was the most beautiful sound she ever heard.

Zahra felt tears well in her eyes, the sight of the baby reaching up the glowing magic, the sound of her laughter making her choke up.

She sounded happy, no longer so sad and lifeless.

The glow of the magic seemed to calm her, and Zahra...she just kept the magic running through her hands, not wanting to stop when it made the baby happy.

The magic danced over her skin, the baby making soft cooing sounds as she reached up to try to capture a spark in her little hands, her bruised skin healing more and more under Zahra's touch. These little hands patted gently against Zahra's glowing ones as she seemed utterly fascinated.

Zahra just stared at the baby, warmth and affection rising from her heart with every little giggle or coo that left the baby's lips. She had never... she had never heard anything more beautiful than the baby's laughter.

It was a bright little sound, of pure happiness

The sound warmed Zahra's soul and she found herself starting to smile as she watched the baby's chubby hands reach up to her own, trying to grasp them.

She offered her hand, letting the little girl wrap her hand around her thumb as she grinned at gummily.

The baby's fingers seemed so delicate and small in Zahra's hands, her little hand so perfectly able to wrap around her thumb, her chubby cheeks rounding with a smile as she made another happy sound.

She looked up to see Azriel and she was stunned at his expression.

Azriel looked like he was staring at something utterly miraculous, his eyes wide and so so soft.

The baby let loose another giggle and it only seemed to make Azriel's expression soften even further.

He...he looked like he was staring at something utterly precious

Zahra swallowed hard, her eyes fixed on him as she watched his reaction to the baby's laughter.

"...l have some baby clothing upstairs, maybe some of that will fit her,” Esmeray said quietly.

Azriel seemed to snap out of his daze, turning to his mother.

The baby cooed, wiggling her wings and shifting restlessly in the warm water, still staring at Azriel with her wide eyes.

Azriel didn't manage to tear his gaze away from the baby, his eyes still soft as he just ... looked at her as if she was the most precious creature ever born

It was so fucking stupid, but Zahra couldn't help herself.

 "Can we... Can we keep her?" She asked weakly. "If she has no other family...can we keep her?" She couldn’t help herself. 

She never…She had never…thought about it. About having kids now.

Zahra had known that she wouldn’t be able to have children herself and had tried to make peace with that and had failed utterly. 

But this baby…this baby…

She had been unexpected and utterly delightful. 

Azriel stared at her, his eyes wide, and then…a smile slowly stretched over his face. 

"Do you..." he cleared his throat, still staring at the baby as he spoke. "Do you want to keep her?" he asked, his voice gentle.

Zahra's gaze snapped up to the baby, a wave of affection and protectiveness washing over her.

"I do," she breathed out without a single moment of hesitation.

The baby seemed to be watching her with wide, innocent eyes, her little hand still wrapped tightly around Zahra's thumb.

“I don’t think I ever wanted anything more,” she whispered.  Zahra found herself smiling softly, affection and love swirling in her chest and overflowing. The emotion was like a dam bursting open, spilling out of her heart and overwhelming all rational thought.

"Then we'll do everything in our power so that we can," Azriel said simply as he crossed the room to stand behind her. “Then we’ll keep her,” he promised her fiercely. “She’s adorable.”

"I don't ever want her back in a dungeon," Zahra said softly. "She doesn't deserve that. Nobody does.”  He nodded as he wrapped his arms gently around Zahra's waist and leaned his head against her shoulder.

The baby seemed to watch them, wide eyes fixed as she still held tightly onto Zahra's thumb.

"She doesn't," he agreed softly.

She felt him press a gentle kiss against her shoulder, the gentle affection of the gesture nearly enough to make her sob.

"Here," Esmeray said as she arrived back in the living room. "More soap and...some clothing,” she said softly. “We'll need to see if that fits her...she looks around...6 months old maybe?"

The baby's head turned to look at Esmeray, her attention pulled away from Azriel and Zahra for the moment.

Zahra had to bite back a laugh at seeing Azriel's crestfallen look at losing the baby's attention.

"About that," Zahra agreed as she gently pulled her hand from the baby fist to wash her hair properly. It was replaced by Ariel hesitantly offering one massive scarred finger that the baby clearly saw as a perfect replacement.

There was something utterly... precious about the way the baby latched on with her little fingers, gripping tightly onto Azriel's finger that seemed so large compared to her delicate hand.

"She is not going back where she came from," Esmeray said sharply as she watched the baby.  "I hope you know that. Either I'll keep her or we find somebody else that..."

"We'll keep her," Azriel said softly. “Zahra and I will keep her.” His voice had such a firm note to it, a determination that broached no argument. But it was also gentle, almost tender in that moment, leaving absolutely no doubt that he meant what he said.

"Oh," Esmeray breathed, but then a small smile bloomed on her face. "Good." Then a moment later. “Welcome to parenthood then,” she said with a grin, and Zahra column’t help the smile that stretched over her face, a wave of affection and a fierce protectiveness taking hold in her chest.

Parenthood. 

She was theirs now. And Zahra was not going to let her go again. 

"She needs something to eat," she said as she washed out the baby's hair carefully, taking a towel Esmeray offered to dry her off. She happily slumped in Zahra's arms and didn't even seem to care when Zahra dressed her clumsily in a cotton nightgown and a fresh diaper. 

"I have some goat milk we can try," Esmeray offered. To say that the baby ... greedily drunk the milk that Zahra carefully offered to her in a cup was an understatement. But then, by how thin she was...Zahra didn't want to imagine when was the last time she had properly eaten. 

The baby drank the goat milk so quickly and so greedily, her tiny fingers clutching at the glass as she drank. As if scared someone would take the food away from her.

It was a heartbreaking sight.

Zahra felt her eyes sting at the sight, her own heart aching as she watched the baby drink the milk as if it was the most precious thing ever.

"We can try some porridge later maybe," Esmeray said softly. "She already cut her first few teeth… that should be fine…”

Anything. They needed to find some way to fatten her up a little…especially as she seemed to shiver with a cold, even as Zahra wrapped her up in a blanket and held her again his chest. She just pressed closer to her. 

"She needs a name," she told Azriel softly as she gently rubbed her back, her eyes fluttering.  "She deserves a name."

"Any ideas?" Azriel asked softly, staring at the baby with such an expression of adoration that it made Zahra's chest ache

She wanted to kiss the look on his face, to kiss his cheek and pull him closer, but she resisted, swallowing back the urge as she tried to think of a fitting name for the little baby girl.

Her gaze fell to the tiny wings protuding from her back that weakly ... twitched as she rubbed between them. She could see the scars on where they grew from her back. 

She didn’t want to imagine what had been done to her to result in these either. 

"Is there...are there traditional illyrian names?" she asked. Some part of her heritage that…that they should respect?

"Some more, some less," Esmeray answered drily. "There are the old ones and over time, more and more names from the High Fae bled over to us as well. There are names that were simply made up and of course, names from out fables and tales that are used.But whatever name you give her...as long as you give it to her out of love, you couldn't possible go wrong," Esmeray promised her softly. "And you are right...it's just wrong for her not to have a name at all."

"Do you want to name her after your mother?" Azriel asked her softly but Zahra shook her head.

"No. She should have her own name," Zahra said softly. "A name that's just her own."

She stared out of the window...to the windowsill where Esmeray had put the flowers she had given her the day before and her eyes snapped to the wild bouquets of wildflowers...with the one bright pink random Azalea in there for good measure.

"Azalea."

Esmeray blinked, a small smile slowly appearing on her face."Azalea," she nodded. "I think she is an Azalea," the woman agreed warmly.

The baby seemed to have started to droop, her little eyes blinking tiredly as she seemed to be fighting to stay awake…her wings slumping. 

Zahra looked to Azriel who was watching the baby quietly. 

"For humans, azaleas mean love and the renewal of hope," she told him softly.

Azriel had a soft smile on his face, the expression so tender and full of affection.

"Azalea," he sounded out the name. "It's beautiful," he breathed, still fixedon the sleeping baby girl. "Azalea it is." he agreed softly.

[zooone]

NEW FRIEND REQUEST FROM: SATORU GOJO ?!

in which ?! - your annoying neighbor messes up your study plans. and it just so happens that the rich boy next to you in class is also annoying. when you fail a test one day, he's there to help.

words ?! - 4.5k

warnings and content ?! - fluff, swearing, a couple of tiny innuendos if you squint, satoru is a BITCH!, you have a bit of a mental breakdown, 2010 au, satoru calls reader "sweets", no curses au

an ?! - WE ARE SOOOO BACK!!!! its been a year since ive written, and this one was definitely quite the warm up but im so excited to be back ^w^ thanks to @melancholiaincarnate for beta reading!!!

masterlist ?!

she bounced her leg. she looked around. she took a whiff of her candle. she flipped a page.

anything, anything to void the terribly loud sounds of the tv next door.

what an absolutely prime time to be watching tv at max volume, at 11 pm the day before a crucial test. it was terrible. and worse of all, it sounded like digimon. who the fuck watches digimon in college?

it sounded like he had people over too, and though she could only hear a couple voices, they were loud as hell.

turning back to her work, she put her palms against her temples. none of it made sense. none of it. everything always made sense to her. and this pissed her off.

"oh come on!" she could hear through the walls, a man with a whiny voice. watching digimon. rather than her notes, all she could think of was how immature her neighbor was.

she took her textbook, slamming it against the thin walls so hard she thought there'd be a hole. then she'd really have to hear them.

the other side grew quiet, all except for a "whoooooopsie daisy" from the same whiny voice.

was he 13?

meanwhile, the three lounged on the couch. popcorn was spilled all over the floor (due to satoru's inability to sit still), but they all knew that satoru would have to be the one to ultimately clean it. it was his place, after all.

"maybe you should turn the tv down," suguru sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"no way! this is the best part of the episode!" satoru whined, gesturing a hand to the thick tv.

"you say that about every scene. just turn it down before your neighbor sends a noise complaint."

"psh. no way dude. she'd never." he snorts, laying back on the couch. manspreading. like two other people aren't next to him.

shoko chimes in, "what, do you know her or something?"

"nah, no clue what she looks like. but i hear those informational tv shows coming from her dorm every once in a while." he shakes his head like its funny. "anyone who watches those kinds of things won't have the balls to tattle."

"what, as opposed to tough guys like you who watch digimon in college?" suguru scoffs. his legs are actually together like a gentleman. wether or not that was due to the lack of space.

"exactly." and satoru yawns with a frown. he's gotten in trouble with his neighbors so many times that he didn't care anymore. he probably should've been kicked out, but instead they moved him around. which is why he was here now. tv blasting digimon right next to his studying classmate.

the same classmate who'll come to school looking like a tornado flew by, dropping her books down on the desk with a hefty sigh like they weighed as much as her.

"sheesh. you look like a mess." satoru chimes, gazing her figure up and down slowly behind his tinted glasses. however, she could sense his bright eyes without even having to look. "rough night, huh? what's the guy's name?"

"shut up," she scowls, knocking his arm out from behind her chair. he lets out a small pout.

"ouch. that hurt." he shakes his hand, pretending to soothe the pain of his imaginary bruise. "i was just asking a genuine question."

"i wasn't with anyone, satoru, i was studying." she sighs, picking at the skin on her lips. a bad habit she's had since she was little.

"lame." he whined, stretching the 'a' out.

"we have a test today!"

"oh, do we? shucks."

of course satoru gojo didn't have to study. of course satoru gojo spent his night with a woman (probably). of course satoru gojo yawned when the test was being passed out. because he didn't need to study. he was one of the many, many people who was able to get into the college because of status and money. the direct counterpart of her.

she got in through scholarships and grades after having come from a lesser background. she worked hard to be there, unlike satoru and the rest of the school. everyone around her had a stench of expensive cologne. thank goodness for uniforms, otherwise her lower status would be immediately revealed.

not like it wasn't obvious already. everyone was already in their own separate group, leaving her in the dust. which is why she allowed satoru gojo to bother her in class. without him, the only time she would talk was to answer questions.

she was so lost in thought she didn't realize she was staring at him.

"what, d'ya need the answers or something?" satoru giggled in a whisper. the smirk on his face was absolutely unbelievable.

she knitted her eyebrows, turning herself towards her paper. "n-no, just thinking."

"all that studying just for you to think. what a shame."

even through his fucking whisper she could hear the cockiness in his voice. it was so natural for him to just think of things to piss her off. if there wasn't a test, she would be imagining all the ways she would kill satoru gojo.

he was so smug. too smug. and even after the test is over, he would still be,

outright smug.

he stretched his legs out over the desk, shoe almost touching her pencil. his shoe alone probably costed more than she makes in a year. "that was pretty easy, huh?"

no, no it wasn't.

"yeah, for sure." she lied through her teeth. no. she wanted to take her pencil and gouge her eyes out. she wanted to rip all her hair off and eat it. satoru better have been lying.

"i don't get why you studied so much. that was easy as hell." he pouted, twirling his pencil in his hands like it was a graceful ribbon. "besides, why were you studying that late?"

"because i actually care about my grades!" she argued, scowling at him through narrow eyes. she wanted nothing more than to pass that test and slap the stupid grin off his face.

"i know that," he whined. "i meant why were you studying late?"

"i-i don't follow."

satoru laughed, muttering something under his breath about how clueless she was before shaking his head. "i mean, you're a good girl. you don't go out, you have a list and schedule for everything, you make sure you get tons of sleep. so what was wrong with last night?"

what?

was he being nice? and how did he catch all that?

she faltered from responding for a little bit, waiting for the usual punchline to hit. but it never did. he just sat there, genuinely asking.

"u-uh, my neighbor." she spoke slowly, as if anticipating his snarky reply. nothing. "for some reason he thinks its funny to watch digimon on full blast at night."

satoru's eyes widened before he let out a guilty chuckle. she didn't understand what was so humorous to him, but he could make a joke out of anything.

"oh," he giggled. "what an idiot, heh."

"yeah." she looked at him skeptically. no punchline yet. but he looked like he knew something she didn't. surely (hopefully) it wasn't the answers to that test.

later that night, she would go to her dorm, bringing out her keys labeled "365". she pushed the door open and dove face first into her couch. curling up against one of her throw pillows, she lazily grabbed the remote.

looks like it'll be another informational tv show tonight. just something to fill the room and make things seem less lonely. sometimes she envied her loud, annoying neighbor because at least he had friends to be loud with. and she was simply just lonely.

the sounds of the tv show bounced off the walls of her empty dorm. there was a bit of furniture, but definitely not the stuff that she'd dreamed about ever since she was little. this was her dream college, something that motivated her ever since she had the realization she could pick any college throughout the whole world. but,

picking and dreaming was easy. earning the right to go there was not.

one of the terms of her scholarships was to keep up her good grades. and although that was a habit of hers throughout the years, the burnout was reaching her. slowly but surely,

until it all crashed down.

she hadn't even noticed she was crying until she realized the dark tear stains on the throw pillow. the tv show still played, something about some sort of rare animal in its habitat, but she paid no mind. it was just noise to drown out her tears.

she would end up falling asleep on the couch. waking up the next morning, late due to her phone's alarm being buried and muffled in her bag.

and for the second time in a row, she would come to class looking like a mess. an utter mess.

"woah girl," satoru spoke, putting his hands up in a sort of surrender as she slammed her belongings down. "you okay?

she wasn't prepared for this. for the tests to be handed back, for satoru's annoying fucking voice, none of it.

"im fine, satoru!" it accidentally came out worse than intended.

"bad sleep again?" he asked, with genuine worry and confusion in his tone. he wasn't even watching tv that night.

"its none of your business." she set her head down, tears already beginning to swell in her eyes. no. not here, not now, please.

instead of a reply, satoru put his hand on her back. he didn't force it, he did it slow enough to the point that she could shake his hand off if she wanted to. but she didn't. she stayed still.

he took that as permission to pat her back, and his touch surprisingly gentle. in any other circumstance she would be flipping out, screaming right at his face to leave her alone (despite wanting the opposite), but that didn't happen. she welcomed his touch,

his strangely familiar, natural touch.

as if on cue, the papers were passed back. and satoru's face scrunched up when he saw multiple red marks bleed through to the other side of her paper.

"hey, maybe you should-" but it was too late. she lifted her head, turning the paper over and,

she failed.

she failed.

and suddenly the dam holding her raging emotions had fully, fully cracked. all she could do was cry.

the red marks immediately bled throughout the paper as her tears weakened into the test. she crumpled it in her hands, feeling her nails pierce through the paper and into her palms- crescent shaped marks going through both of them.

and the worst part? she looked up. she looked up at satoru's flawless paper and saw he passed.

he passed.

she failed.

he swallowed his saliva, feeling his mouth go dry. a juxtaposition to her drenched paper. "hey, i - you-"

"i know-" she sniffled, "excuse me."

and even through shameful tears, she still showed manners. she stood up and left the classroom. she didn't know where she was going at all. she just wanted to leave.

leave the building, leave the school.

but her legs betrayed her, buckling underneath her as her lungs tried to catch up to her. it felt like her insides were scratching out her throat. and as if on perfect arrival, satoru tried to catch her.

key word; tried.

the sheer force of her fall made him tumble back as well, and she ended up on top of him. and on complete instinct, she curled up in his arms.

"oh, sweets - 's okay -"

"its not - its not -" she repeated, through heaving breaths.

but he wrapped his arms around her as tight as he could, rocking back and forth on the gross school floor as if a mother rocking a child. he pressed her ear right against his heart, where she heard a soft drumbeat. something to fill the space.

"its all okay, sweets. its all okay." he whispered, careful not to startle her. "y'hear me?"

"y-yeah-"

"no, d'you hear my heartbeat? listen." and she did, absentmindedly copying his deep breaths. her lips tingled with how dry her mouth was, but she was now able to think.

she was tired. she was just so immensely tired. she nearly fell asleep in his arms with his heartbeat.

"thats it, sweets, thats it." he looked down, sweeping hair from her heavy eyes. he wiped a tear from her cheek.

"i-i messed up your uniform -" was all she could say, being in the arms of the last person she expected. even through tears, all she could think of was the expensive uniform.

"thats okay. i have plenty more."

of course. of course, satoru gojo could just buy a new uniform. of course satoru gojo just had to be smart and rich. he didn't have to study at all. and he still did better-

"whatcha thinking about?" he snapped her from her thoughts. and looking up at his hypnotizing blue eyes, she couldn't feel any more rage in her system. she was tired.

"nothing." she wiped another tear, sadly laughing at how pathetic she felt.

"how about we take a little walk?" he smiled, his canines showing.

on the other hand, she frowned. "what about th-the lesson?"

"oh, nonsense, sweets." he laughed with such confidence. but his voice lacked a mocking tone to it. "y'already know all of it. i'm sure. you're a smart girl."

and before she could sit and ponder that, he stood up. he lifted her up with such ease, adding a little "upsie daisy" to his action. in fact, he did it with such force that she crashed into his chest.

"easy, girl," he giggled softly, looking at her with such tenderness (despite lifting her like a feather). she glared up at him. "there she is. c'mon, lets go."

their "little walk" would turn into a walk around the entire city. she barely had both the time and energy to have a big long walk, but satoru made it possible.

"oh jeez, walk fast, walk fast," he giggled, a hand on her back as he speed-walked past multiple stores.

"what, do you get nervous around kfc or something?" she found it hard to walk at his rate, her legs still a little wobbly and her eyes still puffy. but she smiled.

"what? nah.. why would i be.." he pouted. at this time, she would be sitting on her couch with an informational tv show playing. but now, she was sleepily smiling alongside satoru gojo. who knew.

"i don't know, maybe you're scared of colonel sanders." she snickered. the thought of it was funny.

"y-yeah. totally."

they had passed multiple stores, the lights in them illuminating the night. she had refrained from window shopping too much, as she knew she wouldn't be able to afford any of it. but one of them was just irresistible.

"look at that dress," she whispered. and even though it was to herself, satoru saw the stars in her eyes as she gazed at it through the window. by the time she could look back at him, he was already in the store, smiling and gesturing at her to follow.

and she did, reluctantly.

"this one?" he picked up the dress from the hanger, taking a look at the fabric and pattern to it. "it is pretty. you have good taste, sweets."

her face went oddly warm at that one.

"and its perfect in time for fall," he continued analyzing the dress, putting it up to her body trying to imagine how she'd look. "go try it on."

"w-what? but -" she tried to grab the dress to look at the price tag. "how much -"

"c'mon, less talking and more changing!" he put his hand on her back again, leading her towards the changing rooms. a smile rested on his face like it was his default. "hey, could'ya do me a favor, sweets?"

"yeah, whats up?" she looked at the dress in her hands. and he slowly, slowly leaned down towards her, his breath close to her neck. it sent dangerous shivers down her spine.

"don't look at the price tag, alright? thats my only rule, heh."

she did as told, entering the changing room and avoiding the price hesitantly. part of her instincts wanted to check, but she refrained.

god, had she really cried that hard? her eyes were still red and puffy and her lips were still slightly plump. she didn't know how she managed to make it throughout the whole city without being judged by everyone. maybe she could blame it on allergies if someone asked.

yet, she turned around and looked into the mirror with the dress on.

the dress' color complimented her features perfectly, making it look like she was glowing as if she hadn't previously cried her eyes out. it was the perfect shape for her figure, but most importantly, it brought a smile to her face. a smile that hadn't shown itself since the college acceptance letter came in the mail.

she burst through the changing room, instantly getting satoru's (who was mindlessly scrolling on facebook) attention.

"oh my-" and the words were stolen from his lips, making satoru gojo speechless for the first time ever. she marked it down in her head as a famous moment in history. "you - you look -"

"its so pretty, satoru!" she smiled, spinning around to see the ruffles of the dress flow with her movements. "and look! its got pockets!"

"its perfect, sweets." he looked at her with lidded eyes, a goofy smile on his face. not the sort of smile that would make her want to slap him, but the kind of smile that made her warm. "but did you follow my rule?"

"yes, i did not look at all." she couldn't keep the smile off her face. fluttering her hands in the pockets of the dress.

"perfect." he grinned. and when she went to go put her uniform back on, her smile faded. she knew she had to put it back on the shelf.

she exited the fitting room, a longing frown on her face. yet, satoru still beamed. "alright, you ready? lets go pay up."

"what?" and he was already towards the cash registers. "but - i don't have-"

"relax, sweets, i got it." he pulled out his card, waving it in the air like it was the key to the pearly gates.

"no - satoru - you don't have to -"

"i said, i got it." he playfully, yet dramatically, rolled his eyes. he was already walking up to one of the registers, somehow with the dress in his hands. did he take it sometime when she wasn't looking?

"thank you, sir." he nodded to the cashier, bag in hand. it happened so fast, too fast for her to comprehend.

and her face was red with shame as they walked out.

"you didn't have to do all that!" she elbowed him. he even insisted on carrying the bag as well.

"oh my, i walk you around the city and buy you something and that's my thanks?" he whined, his bottom lip peaking out to taunt her.

"i didn't ask you to!-"

"im joking," he straightened up again, laughing a the look on her face. "its all on me, i promise. you owe me nothing."

"thats - thats not fair to you, though!" she yelled, a frown on her reddened face. again, it was just allergies.

“so?” he shrugged. it was fair to him. he spent a little bit (a lot) and he got to see the smile on her face. that was fine by him. “i don’t care.”

she didn’t have a response for him. she just continued walking, only a hazy silence separating them. it wasn’t like the silence in her dorm- it was warm and welcoming. perhaps it was the fogginess in her head as sleepiness was slowly overcoming her. but no matter what it was, she felt safe with him.

all she muttered was, “thank you, satoru.” under her breath. and he chuckled.

her breaths were starting to get more shallow, as her strides shortened. “you feel tired?”

she was so tired. she’s been tired,

but she didn’t want this to end just yet.

“could we - uh,” she mentally cringed at herself. what was she doing? “can we go to your place?”

“huh?” he smiled, and it didn’t look like a single thought was behind his eyes. she didn’t want to have to repeat herself. “i mean- sure, if you’re okay with it.”

she didn’t want to do anything, and he knew that. but with the way he slung his arm across her shoulder, she felt a sudden buzzing throughout her joints. she rested her head on his chest as her legs essentially dragged behind her.

“our - my buildings close by. it won’t be long, sweets.” he giggled, and all she could do was nod her heavy head.

the next thing she knew, he was carrying her bridal style in the elevator. the bumps of the elevator car felt oddly familiar, but she was too tired to process all of it. he carried her so tenderly, humming softly as the doors opened. the low vibrations in his chest were a gentle lullaby.

after struggling and stumbling a little, he brought out his keys labeled “367” and he chuckled softly. opening the door, he let out a soft breath. popcorn kernels still cluttered the floor, some smooshed, but he still smiled at the amount of decorations around.

he laid her down gently on the couch, pausing briefly when she stirred, and sat down next to her. he grabbed his remote, manspreading yet again as he scrolled through channels. his free hand idly played with her hair, a gentleness to his touch.

“should i turn on some sorta informational tv show for you?” he whispered, looking over at her like she would respond. and of course, when she didn’t, he just chuckled. “i think i’ll play some digimon. i think you’d like this episode.”

she burst from her bedsheets with such force, her vision nearly went black. the scent around her was familiar as she stared ahead (once her vision was back to normal). how did she end up in her dorm? she could’ve sworn she was..

where was she last night?

as she looked around herself, everything was normal. not a single bit of her desk was out of place, and all her papers were safely tucked away in her bag. she put her head in her hands, wiping her eyes of her sleepiness. thank goodness it was a saturday.

a small ding came from her blocky phone. she swept her feet onto the floor, groaning a little bit when she made contact with the rug. her head hurt. she vaguely remembered bits and pieces of the show she was watching last night. something about monsters maybe?

idly, she picked up her phone. it was already past noon.

NEW NOTIFICATION

facebook? she barely used facebook.

NEW FRIEND REQUEST FROM: SATORU GOJO

she opened up his profile.

Satoru Gojo

is excited about: Digimon.

oh.

now she remembered everything. and that would make sense why she woke up in her own bed.

she scrambled out of her bedroom, hastily putting on her slippers and leaving her dorm with such urgency, her breath was left behind.

“hey! open up!” she banged her fists on door 367. although the time was not obscene, someone looked at her suspiciously across the hallway. “u-um - package for gojo?”

what was she doing? clearly she didn’t look like a delivery woman. all she cared about was getting an answer.

she heard shuffling from behind the door, and as the handle turned, satoru gojo showed himself in nothing more than a tank top and gray sweatpants. the tank top showed off his shoulders and his oddly defined collarbones. it stuck to his tummy, showing the outline of his flexed abs. she was in such haste that when she stopped to stare, a buzzing played in her head.

“oh,” satoru smiled, leaning against the doorframe as he crossed his arms. he just looked so smug. “quite the package you are, sweets. heh.”

“satoru?!” she whisper-yelled once she finally got a grip on her staring problem. “you- you’re my -”

“did you get my friend request?” he frowned, though it was more of a pout. his hand ruffled through his snowy white hair.

“satoru gojo is excited about digimon?!” she recalled from his profile, her mind a haze. she could remember his silly profile picture.

“‘cause i am.” he whined, like it was some sort of obvious statement. his carelessness about this made her brows knit.

then, a softer voice showed itself. “satoru, who’s that?”

a man with his hair tied up (apart from hair in the front) came up behind him. and suddenly, her face went even more red than before, realizing she embarrassed herself by freaking out in front of his company.

“o-oh, you - sorry, sorry, i-”

“you wanna join us? i’m making some popcorn,” satoru giggled, still not answering his friend’s question. “we aren’t watching any informational thing, but i think you’d still like it.”

“is - is this your neighbor?” the black hair man spoke again.

“yup.”

“the one who you -”

“yup.”

she stood there, her pulse in her cheeks, unable to speak. however, he gestured to invite her in. she couldn’t tell if his offer was a joke, but she walked in regardless. as she introduced herself to his company, learning that the man’s name was suguru, and she also noticed a girl with short hair on the couch by the name of shoko.

satoru grabbed the popcorn, a small grin on his face as he walked to sit on the couch. he patted the space next to him. “c’mon, sweets. sit next to me.” he snorted, “i dunno if there’ll be enough room for you, but suguru can stand.”

“there would probably be more room if you stopped manspreading.” suguru scoffed.

nonetheless, she sat down next to satoru, letting him sling his arm around her shoulder again. like last night. “how’d you sleep? did’ya finally get a good night?”

“yeah,” she spoke. when she relaxed her eyebrows, she felt a soothingness to her forehead. she could smell his cologne, being forced to smush up against him when suguru forced himself on the couch. “it - it was good.”

“that’s good, sweets.” he chuckled, shoving a bit of popcorn in his mouth with a grin. his hand rested idly on her thigh, his touch familiar to her. “you looked real tired.”

and she felt it was mandatory to look at him, a sort of desperation in her eyes. “hey, satoru i wanted to - um - thank you-”

“huh? for what?” he shrugged, resting his head on his free hand.

“for, y’know, all you did for me.” she was quiet, and she could feel suguru and shoko’s eyes on them. “i still don’t appreciate how loud your tv is, but - i just- thank you. really.”

“its no problem.” he laughed, taking the hand on her thigh and placing it around her shoulders again. “and i promise i’ll turn it down from now on.”

“thank god.” she snickered. meanwhile, suguru and shoko looked at each other skeptically.

“by the way, i put the dress on your counter,” satoru added, pushing his tinted glasses up. “you should wear it the next time we go out, sweets.”

“next time?” she asked, putting one eyebrow up.

“yeah, next time. i think i’m free tomorrow, actually.”

8.1.24 - WE ARE SO BACK!!!

masterlist ?!

[uc1wa]

*heavy sigh* possessive frat boy Dick Grayson getting increasingly more deranged about how he lays his claim on you as the semester wears on, finals week breaking point where he loses it on you like you're a stress ball, etc.

even though he'd never cave and make you his gf, nope no sir

tags: fem reader, toxic relationship, yanderish, misogyny, mentions of rough sex, penetrative sex, choking, manipulation, fucked up frat boy dick

dick fucked a different girl every weekend, y'know, before his drunk self stumbled to your door. but who cares about the smell of perfume that's clung to his half-buttoned top? the top that has buttons in places they aren't supposed to be. who cares? because he's still going to come home to you, and you'll be his last fuck of every weekend.

but you? the first load he spilled on your stomach should've said enough, no? dick doesn't just fuck everybody, at least that's what he thinks. you're his and his only.

the first time he smelt another guy's cologne on you, saw a shirt that was surely not yours, a product of your own one-night stand, dick grayson lost his shit. fucked you like you were a sleeve for his cock rather than a person.

"then... are we dating?" the condescending laugh that left dick's lips was your answer. dating? the word made him gag, why would he lock himself down when he was at his prime? are you stupid? do you know who he is?

no, you weren't dating. you were fucking, but you obviously had a problem understanding your place, didn't you?

it started with hickies. an embarrassing amount that no number of necklaces or turtleneck tops could cover in their entirety. hickies that started at your jaw, dark splotches moving down your body. did you want to wear a crop top? dick's taking note to leave one on either side of your hips. where there's skin, there are remnants of the man to whom you belonged.

it wasn't hard to stake his claim on you, but he also knew you were hot. do you think dick grayson, the commodity that he was, would fuck somebody ugly? he's not that low. he has priorities for himself.

hickies weren't enough, though. did you think you were slick when he saw a video of you at another frat house, one outside of his own, grinding on a man who was plenty of social levels below dick? you thought he wouldn't find out that you're even more of a slut than he thought?

rather than a hand wrapped around your throat, he used manipulation to his advantage. with a sickeningly sweet voice, he bought you a necklace with his initials since you needed a tag like a puppy; now you know not to run away, right?

"marking your territory, huh?" his brother, wally laughs when he sees you sporting the chain with a prideful chest, gold falling between your tits. don't look too hard, that's dick's property now!

"had to," dick replies, unfazed. "nothing too serious, though." he reminds his brother from his seat in their shared house. but it's still not enough.

he wants you all to himself and it eats away at him. hickies continuing, sucking your face in public, it's not enough because you're still giving guys attention. 'just friends' his ass.

that's why, overtop of the gold chain, his hand covers your throat and pushes down hard. between hickey-covered thighs, his cock is stuffing you full with painfully slow movements.

"i gotta remind you?" he asks, long past acknowledging the fact that you can't speak from the force his hand holds around your windpipe. "whose cunt is this?" a strangled whine, and dick squeezes harder, a satisfied smile pulling his lips when he finally feels your pussy squeeze around his length.

he doesn't care about words; he cares about your cunt being carved into the shape of his cock. he cares about sculpting you like clay 'till any guy you wanna talk to can only smell dick on you. can only smell the expensive cologne he wears, can only smell the scent of his musk. 'till you're limping to all your finals, and there's not a second thought from your classmates who put you in that state; the infamous "DG" that's still hanging between your tits, that's who!

[miley1442111]

realistic reactions- r. cameron

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a/n: this takes place in a au where the stuff that happens in the show doesn't happen :)

tropes: childhood bestfriends to lovers, enemies to lovers

pairing: rafe cameron x fem! reader, jj maybank x reader (dw, not for long)

(use of Y/n, and the nickname Bunny/ bun (but i promise not in a weird way there's a story to it i swear it's not just one of those weird smut things))

summary: something pushes feelings up to the surface for rafe, yet yours remain unchanged.

warnings: mentions of drugs and drug use and drinking, fighting, cursing, rafe is a dick, rafe's mental health, reader is going through it, mentions of a blowjob, etc.

not entirely proofread

--------------------

The next time Rafe saw you, it was in his kitchen. So casually. His kitchen. Talking with Wheezie and Sarah. 

“Morning sleepyhead,” Wheezie chuckled. “It’s 5pm, by the way.”

Rafe just scoffed and flipped her his middle finger and she sighed, rejoining your conversation. Rafe listened in, of course. What else did you expect him to do? You were sitting in his kitchen.

“What about Jj?” Sarah smirked. “He’s totally into you.”

Fuck no. Fuck no. 

Jj Maybank had been trying to get your attention since Pre-k, and Rafe didn’t like that. He didn’t like it then, and he didn’t like it now. You were not going out with Jj. 

“I guess… but he’s like two years younger than me, and he smokes,” you sighed. 

“So what? I swear to god if you asked him to stop he would. He’s fucking obsessed with you,” she laughed. 

“No way,” you laughed. “Anyways, I wouldn’t want to make him stop something he enjoys just because I don’t like it. That’s not fair.”

That sinking feeling he’d felt all day, the one that made him stay in his room far past his waking up at 11am, made its way to his throat. He was exactly what you didn’t want. He was a prime example of what you didn’t want. You wanted a sweet, normal, good guy. Rafe was an uncontrollable, angry, bad person. He had no chance. 

The words fell from his mouth before he even knew what he was saying. “Jj is an asshole,” he scoffed.

“Rafe, did we invite you into this conversation?” Sarah sassed. “And, Jj is our friend, just because you like to uphold the shitty Kook-Pogue rivalry bullshit, doesn’t mean we have to.”

“Fuck off Sarah, I’m trying to warn Bun. He sleeps with anyone,” he turned to you and watched as your face turned from neutral to offended.

“Who says I didn’t just want to sleep with him?” You questioned and Rafe blood started to boil. 

“Exactly!” Sarah exclaimed. “You can’t tell her what she can and can’t do.”

“Bun, I know you, you don’t want to date a guy like that-“

“No, Rafe, you don’t know me. You’d know me if you ever responded to me. You’d also know that I hate being called Bunny now, so please stop,” despite your cutting tone, Rafe couldn’t help but smile at your politeness. 

But what you’d said. He knew it would come up, he knew you’d ask him why, and to be honest, he didn’t have an answer for you. Some part of him just thought it was hopeless. Even as a 14 year old boy, he knew he wasn’t for you, he knew he wouldn’t be enough for you. He couldn’t be what you deserved. 

“Fine,” he smiled sarcastically, shaking the protein shake he’d been making. “See you later, Bunny.”

He heard you scoff as he walked off. 

--------------------

“Asshole,” Sarah scoffed. 

“He’s not that bad,” Wheezie defended. 

“He’s not, that’s true,” you agreed, trying to save Rafe and Wheezie’s relationship. Sarah and Rafe were done. You and Rafe were done. Wheezie could still have a good relationship with Rafe. Be cared about by Rafe, like you once were, and if your childhood memories weren’t just romanticised versions of the truth, being cared about by Rafe Cameron was something you wouldn’t trade for the world. 

“How can you say that?” Sarah gasped. “After what he did to you?”

“What did he do to you?” Wheezie asked, concern filing her young eyes. 

“Sarah, that’s an exaggeration and you know it,” you sighed. 

“Really? He stopped talking to you entirely, and then told everyone on this island that you stopped texting him back and convinced everyone else to do the same,” she listed. 

You shrugged. “Yeah, he was a dick when he was 15, so what?”

“You cannot just be okay with it all, I’d be pissed!” Sarah argued. 

“I’m over it, and I’m over him!” You say finally. You’re over it all, over Rafe. 

Sarah finally lets up her arguing, and your girl's day goes back to normal. Then you got two very distracting texts.

RC: I’m sorry Bunny. 

JM: You coming over 2night?

And if you’d seen the way those texts were sent, you’d be laughing, very hard. 

--------------------

RC: I’m sorry Bunny.

“What the fuck do I say?”

“Just text her!” Kelce shouted from across the gym as Rafe stared down at his phone. “Say sorry!”

“Like that’ll cut it?” He hurled back. “I’m the world’s biggest asshole to her-”

“And everyone else,” Topper added and Rafe scowled. 

“Thanks, fuckhead,” he groaned. “OK Kelce,” Rafe sighed. Kelce was the only one of them with a long-term girlfriend. “What do I say, verbatim?” 

“How about, ‘sorry Bun’, it’s simple. It’s sweet. And it’ll mean you can come spot me now,” Kelce smirked and Rafe sighed typing it out, and handing it to Topper to send. 

“You’re really getting me to send it? What are you, twelve?” Topper chuckled. Kelce laughed along while Rafe contemplated letting the bar fall on his friend’s chest, but eventually decided against it. 

That was the problem, Rafe felt uncontrolled with you. Venturing into uncharted territories as his feelings, the ones he’d sworn he’d buried years ago, raised to the surface, and punched him in the face. All at once. 

You were beautiful, Rafe knew that, anyone who saw you knew that. But what they didn't see was the little girl who Rafe ran to every time. the girl who was there for him, the girl who defended him, the girl who he loved.

Rafe's stomach lurched

Woah. Love? Shit, he was in deep.

--------------------

JM: You coming over 2night?

“What the fuck do I say?” Jj screeched as Pope and John B laughed at him. “That isn’t helping things!”

“Just text her you pussy!” John B laughed so hard he fell off his seat. 

“Pope,” Jj looked to his smartest friend. 

“Ok, ok, give me your phone,” Pope nodded and Jj handed it over, no question. Jj paced the kitchen as Pope typed out a message onto his phone, a thousand thoughts running through his head, almost all of them about you. God, you’d come back and you were even better than he’d remembered. More fun, more carefree, more beautiful. Jj knew he wasn’t the only one who noticed either, Rafe had his eyes on you and he knew it. Jj would have to act fast before Rafe pulled you back into his orbit of asshole-ness. At least, that’s what Jj called it. He knew if he wanted you, he'd have to act fast, and this was part one of his plan. You could never call Jj Maybank unplanned, because he always had something up his sleeve. 

“Ok, how about,” Pope started and Jj’s heart dropped when his fake British accent came out. “My fair maiden, would you like to accompany me to-”

Jj snatched the phone out of his hands before he could finish, and both the boys were back in their uncontrollable fits of laughter. “Fuck you guys,” he mumbled, leaving the house, favouring to sit by the water instead. He took a deep breath and typed it out, spending about 10 minutes deliberating on whether to send it now, or just run for the hills and never speak to you again. Eventually, he sent it.

He anxiously awaited your reply. 

--------------------

You: Sorry J, I have dinner with the Cameron’s 2night. Tomorrow? xxx

3 x’s had to mean something good, right? Like not ‘I’m in love with you, please marry me’ but not ‘you’re disgusting, I’m actively giving Rafe a blowjob fuck off, I love him’.

--------------------

RC: I’m sorry Bunny.

Read at 4:12pm

Fuck. He wasn’t just in the doghouse, he was on another fucking continent, and he had no choice but to fucking crawl his way back, and he had to act fast, especially if Jj Maybank was after you.

Dinner was going to be interesting. 

--------------------

obx masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games, challengers :)

taglist: (comment to be added :))

@hockeybabe87 @maybankslover @anightlikethisss @linaaaaa654 @ijustwanttoreadlols @ihe4rttwd @sunny1616 @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafeecameronsbitch @drewswifeeee @lovegeorgia

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x FWB!Reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon "Ghost" Riley, Reader

Summary: Nothing good ever comes from a text after dark... or does it? Guess it depends on who it is and what they need. If it's a certain Lieutenant, then it's bound to be something worth your while.

Word Count: 3.2 k

Warnings:

Part 2:

BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ.

You up?

Need you. Now.

Can’t wait.

The repetitious vibrations from your phone pull your attention away from the open book resting against your thighs and over to where it lay on your mattress next to you. Grabbing it, you press the button on the side that turns on the screen and check the clock in the upper right hand corner. It’s later than you thought, but being the night owl you are meant that you were still up messing about even if you shouldn’t be.

He knew it.

Rolling over to your side as you read and reread the short messages, discarding your book to the other side of the bed, the sudden racing pulse through your veins makes your stomach cartwheel. It didn’t take much these days to get your body aching for a certain Lieutenant, not when he’s texting you shit like that at this hour.

As quickly as your fingers can type you text Ghost back, an instantaneous need swelling inside at the thought of being with him again.

And what if I am?

You need something?

Not even a minute passes before your phone buzzes to life again and quickly you read the bubble that pops up on screen.

Are you going to get that sweet arse over here or not, luv?

A flutter in your chest makes your breath hitch as you jump up from your bed and throw on whatever articles of clothing that are within reach; time is of the essence. Doesn’t matter what the hell it is when you know Ghost will be tearing them off you the moment you get to him anyway. Things usually get hot and heavy pretty fast when you two are together, so the only real rule that you stood by was less is best as that meant you could get to the deed that much quicker.

Both of you knew why you’d be there, no sense in beating around the bush when he could immediately be diving into one.

With slow, careful movements and silent steps, you leave your quarters and set out across the base towards your superiors room. Once you’re outside you keep to the shadows, trying to minimize any unwanted attention to the fact you are out far too late and that your destination just happens to be where the officers are housed; getting stopped now will not be ideal. The closer you get the more warm your cheeks become as sensitive nerve endings spark to life across your limbs and a familiar heat gathers between your thighs.

He’s already waiting for you when you arrive. Your knuckles barely touch the surface of the door before you hear the lock click and the door swings open to reveal a shirtless, brown-eyed Adonis staring straight back at you. It’s clear from his ruffled, unkempt locks and wrinkled sweatpants that he had not been successful in trying to get to sleep before his desire grew into a beast too difficult to handle alone.

"Fancy meeting you here," you pick at him as he reaches for your arm and pulls you into the confines of his dimly lit room, the door quickly closing behind you both with a quiet latch. “What’s that, like the third time this week alone?”

As he turns back to you Ghost’s sight locks to your body, slowly taking you all in as he eyes you up and down, hunger glistening through his gaze. "Is that complaining I hear?" he smirks. "I’m not apologizin’, luv. Do you know what you fucking do to me?"

"I have an idea," you breathe as that imposing figure of prime masculinity moves in closer, "but you know I’ve always been a bit of a visual learner, so why don't you show me again?"

A smile that could make Satan blush flashes across his lips and with a growl that sets you shivering with anticipation, Ghost closes the short distance between you and leans in, pulling you against his warm, tight chest as he meets your mouth greedily with his.

“mmm … mmh… !” he groans into you.

A series of frantic, heated kisses overwhelm your lips as if he is trying to devour every bit of that soft, full pout as he can; how can someone’s kiss feel like heaven? Your rapidly palpating heart makes your head buzz as he pours his desire into you and you respond in kind by meeting his intensity with your own.

Breaking away for only a moment, his hands now grasping at your shirt take hold and pull the scant article up over your head and off to remove any barrier between the both of you. He tosses it out of the way and moves back against you, nearly crushing you in between him and the door as he can’t stand being separated.

Warm breath is at the side of your head. "Need to feel you," he groans near your ear before taking the lobe in his teeth and giving it a bite. Your ears pick up the sound of his breath hitching as he comes apart at the sensation of your breasts plastered to his chest, hands surveying the rest of the skin available to him.

“Goddamn, I feel like I’m on fuckin’ fire. Don’t know what spell you fucking have me under sweetheart, but it’s becomin’ a problem.”

“Maybe that’s what I want,” you say against his swollen lips, “to become your problem.”

“Fucking hell,” he groans before his mouth latches back on to your own.

You already are.

Fiery kisses assault your mouth in desperate fashion as if he hadn’t seen you in weeks. That insatiable appetite is something of a marvel as you both had been messing around for a couple of months and yet his texts seem to come at a more frequent rate now than when you started. Nothing is more euphoric than to be desired to the point of obsession, especially when it came to someone like the Lieutenant; there’s something primal in the way a big man possesses you.

Without warning his hands clasp securely around your waist as he picks you up so that you can wrap your thighs around his hips, your back slamming harshly against the door for leverage. The sound of your body bouncing off the surface echoes through the quiet room as that sculpted body of his presses firmly into you so the prominence of his arousal can be felt as he grinds it up into the crotch of your pants.

His face is still joined to yours and the sensation of his tongue pressing against your mouth brings you back to reality, impatiently knocking for entry, and you part your lips so that he can slip the thick muscle inside. He shoves it within the confines of that wet cavern so that it can do its exploring while it dances alongside your own tongue; he sure does enjoy keeping all your holes nice and stuffed full.

It’s not enough, though; he needs more.

You both are on the move now and you have to lock your arms around his shoulders to hang on as he makes the short distance to the bed not a few feet from where you are and sets you down. He kneels before you on the floor, pulls you to the edge, and in one swift motion his hands are on your pants before they are suddenly off you and next to him.

Even in the dim light of the small room, you can see how his eyes shimmer with lust and want, a predators gaze just before they go in for the kill. This man would be the death of you, but what a glorious death it would be.

“Lay back for me,” he demands and you follow.

A powerful grip is placed on each one of your inner thighs to spread them wide as Ghost moves them to sit on his shoulders where they will rest as he works. Leaning in towards your cunt he goes in face first with no hesitation like a starved man read to eat his first meal in days.

With shaky hands you cling to the sheets for dear life as the he nestles the tip of his tongue between your petals, gathering your sweet juices along his taste buds as he drags it across the length, teasing circles around your aching clit before thrusting up against it. There he begins to stroke with languid movements along that organ of pleasure, go in with all he has amidst the sound of your mewls at the pleasurable sensation.

Goddamn you taste good.

That face with its beautifully chiseled features is buried so deep in you Ghost can hardly breathe, but he has never felt more alive. The way you feel, the way you taste, the way your hips writhe against his movements all work together to fuel the passion for your cunt. On his knees between your legs is his favorite place to be, listening to the symphony you make, even with the threat that you’d lock your legs around his head; god, he hoped you would.

Your eyes clamp themselves shut as your head falls back while another back-arching vibration of pleasure hits your clit and you bite your bottom lip hard, trying to remember how to breathe when your brain had lost all its functions. Ghost’s intense pace never slows even as you writhe violently across his face, your sweet nectar coating itself across his cheeks. Oh no, it only fuels him more; he’d drown against you and still say thank you.

Ghost’s hands move up further on your hips suddenly, pulling you against his face until he is latched so securely that you can not buck him off. There is not anywhere for you to go at this point and the only thing you can do is ready yourself as that warmth in your stomach grows stronger and stronger, your toes curling with each thrust of his tongue.

Releasing your grip on the sheets, you bring your hand down and ruffle your fingers through his hair and he moans into you. “Sh-shit,” you stutter breathless. The pace is steady, sucking and stroking, but it’s intense as the minutes pass without any sign of him letting up. You know there will be no mercy found for you here; Ghost will stop when his job is done and not a second before.

Tiny beads of sweat speckle your body as you burn under his touch and he smirks against you, feeling how hard he is working you as the perspiration hits his fingertips. The pressure was overwhelming and your hips rock with him trying to get you there.

There is nothing more beautiful than the mess he is always making out of you lately and if he has his way he will keep you on your back almost constantly.

Pressure building, warmth gathering, the precipice within reach with each stroke. Relentless he feasts with fervor until your eyelids flutter shut.

Right there. It’s right fucking there. Just a few more licks of his tongue, a few more precise hits and that is going to be all.

It’s coming, the plunge. Ghost’s fingernails are piercing the skin of your hips as a few more deliberate strokes of his tongue on your clit cause your butt to lift up of the bed as your orgasm rips through you.

Your thighs clamp around his ears, blocking him in against you and yet he doesn’t stop. The entirety of your ecstasy you ride out with him licking and sucking until you sink into the mattress, breathing through the pleasure. After a moment you look down to see the demon emerge from you with a smirk strung across his mouth that sparkles with your slick.

Wiping his lips with the back of his hand, he sighs and stands to his feet, fingers capturing the drawstrings to his pants and with a pull the tie untangles itself so that the slack fabric can hang low on his hips.

“What?” you play, knowing what he wants and even though you are still catching your breath, you are more than ready to give in to him.

“You know damn well what. Night’s still young, luv,” he says as he slips the waistband down even lower, “and now it’s my turn.”

He isn't finished with you yet, not even close.

His desire is beyond reason now, even more than before, and it fills his gaze as he stares back at you. No movement yet as Simon allows that bit of tension to linger in the air before he pounces.

Fuck anymore foreplay, this can’t hold off any longer.

Those legs of yours you have kept open, inviting him back, but this time with his cock instead of his tongue. He moves back in, dropping his pants off his legs and stepping out of them. A quick order he barks to move back further onto the bed has you scooting and he is following you, crawling across the surface with the power and grace of a lion before he goes in for the kill.

“You ready for me, princess?” he growls.

You stare back at him, big doe-eyed gaze watching him as he prepares to claim you again. “Give it to me,” you say and that is all the confirmation needed.

Sliding between your thighss as he parts them as easily as a knife through warm butter, he pushes one back where your knee is near your chest while the other is straight beneath him; he wants to get as deep as he fucking can. There is no hesitation as with a strong thrust he is fully inside of you down to the very base of his cock, his balls bouncing off your ass.

“Ahh…” you cry out as you stretch to capacity to accommodate all of him, your fingernails dig into the muscles along his shoulders as your body adjusts to his mighty girth.

Ghost bottoms out and needs a second to collect himself; he’s had you countless times at this point, but every single time the sensation your body gives him is enough to make the man see God.

“Goddamn sweetheart, the way you feel around my fucking cock,” he groans, “just want to keep it in you at all times. If I had my way, you’d stay on your back all day every day.”

Obsession is not quite the word, but you already have the man wrapped around your little finger. The things he'd do to have you at this point border on the diabolical.

There is no holding back once he starts thrusting in and out, desperate to find his rhythm, not with how wet and tight you are; it is paradise. Soon enough that pace is set and you are joining him in grinding your hips against his pelvis. Ghost rests his forehead against yours, rough, strong fingers finding your hands so that they can lace themselves in between the paces of your own as he holds them above your head. The building pressure causes him to start panting.

“O-OHH, FUCK…!!” he exclaims as you tighten yourself on his cock, putting those kegel practices to good use just to see him falter.

It is not expected and throws him off a moment; he’s the one that is suppose to be showing that pussy who’s boss, but you’ve taken the reins with that one move. Someone is bound to hear him and yet he can’t be bothered to quiet himself. If you want to make sure this stays a secret, you shouldn’t pull moves that can bring him to his proverbial knees.

Time after time he feels the need to remind you in breathless moans how you are his, but if Ghost is honest you have him fucking whipped; not that he is going to let you know that. Still, if you pay close enough attention you will be able to tell the signs, like the way he is utterly falling apart now. Fuck, he needs to come so bad now he can taste it.

Desperately he grinds harder and harder into you as if he cannot get deep enough, like he cannot fill you full enough. He needs to take over your entire being, possess every single last centimeter of you, steal away all your sanity until there is nothing left of you but him.

Releasing your hands, he moves back to sit taller on his knees so that he can put the most leverage behind his thrusts. He helps you to reposition so that both of your thighs are now secure high on his hips; you are going to need to hang on for this. Abdominals are straining along his torso, contracting down with each movement until they are coated in a thin, glistening layer of perspiration.

“Com’ on, pretty girl, you goin’ to give me another?” he grunts. The knot in your brows and the way your mouth hangs slack must say it all. He’s going to make you come again.

You nod furiously, focusing on that warm gathering in the pit of your stomach. “That’s it, sweetheart, com’ on. I deserve to feel you this time. Com' on my cock, slather it nice and proper.”

Hips rolling as if his life depends on it, he reaches down between your bodies to play with your clit. It’s working, your back is arching, and release is gaining on you. “Yes, y-yes,” you choke out.

The pressure is overwhelming and your hips buck, the pain of over-stimulation turning to pleasure as your body readies itself to shoot that hot electricity through your limbs. Ghost presses the pad of his finger harshly up against your clit and with his thrusts working inside you, that is finally enough to make you spill.

Your second orgasm rockets through you, causing you to clamp down on him with fluttering walls. The sensation is enough to cause that deep ache to finally find its remedy and his pulls out of you quickso that he can coat your torso with his cum. You quickly reach down and grab his cock, stroking out all his has to give until he is shuddering and please with you to stop.

He has to sit back on his heels and just breathe a moment before he can move to grab something to clean you off, but soon he’s able to go off and grab you a towel, handing it to you as he falls on the bed beside you while you finish wiping off the last of his cream.

“So, I guess that means we’re done here right?” you playfully tease him as you throw the towel aside and lay back down.

Strong arms enfold you and pull him to his chest as he smirks, the euphoria of his orgasm still coursing through his veins.

He catches your mouth with his to shut you up. “You should know fucking better than that, luv,” he says, nipping at your lips. “Price may own you when the sun is up, but that still a ways off. You and that sweet cunt of yours are mine until then.”

Hell, he cannot seem to ever get enough of you no matter how many times you frequent his bed. Those strong fingers draw lazy circles across your back, making you tingle as you come back down from your high

You chuckle sleepily, the consequences of you staying up so late mixing with the act you just performed. “I’ll be so tired, not gonna be able to run drills properly.”

“More complainin’?” he retorts. “I must not have finished the fucking job yet. You’ve been doin’ just fine with keeping up with your duties so far. Don’t worry your pretty little head, I’ll make sure your proper exhausted just as I always do.”

[starkeysprincess]

Thinking ab Stepsister!reader being a virgin and how rafe would take his sweet baby sister’s purity🥺

He’d always be down for dry humping or letting you ride his thigh, even caught you rutting against your pillow a couple of times, but you finally tell him it’s not enough and he knows what he needs to do.

He’d be so manipulative while he coerced you but sweet at the same time because he still sees you as a person. I also think he’d start priming you to call him daddy from the very first time.

Being all squirmy and whiny “Rafey it hurts” “I know sweet girl, just relax, it’ll feel better in a second. but aren’t you glad you’re doing this with me instead of some other douche like JJ who’ll use you and leave? You’re always gonna have me. I’m your daddy now.”

You’d gasp and whine out “No no no that’s so wrong. You’re my brother” and this is where he’d get wicked.

“Well then who else would the first person to have this sweet little cunt be? Hm??”

When you’re finally about to cum, he’s not gonna let up. “You want your first time to be good, you know what to say, I’ll pull out, paint your pretty self and leave you here right now. Ask daddy to cum.” You have no choice to give in, and he smirks, knowing full well what the fuck he just did to you.

it’d start off as him being a “good big brother” and just wanting to help you whenever you were needy and desperate for relief, letting you ride his thigh or dry hump because according to him “it doesn’t count as being wrong if we have clothes on” & you believe him because why wouldn’t you? he’s your stepbrother, he’s supposed to be looking out for you because he’s family

you’re whining that it’s not enough, you don’t know what you need but you needed more and he tells you to let him take care of it, asking if you trust him

his hand pushes on your tummy to keep you laying back, “relax, ‘m just gonna make you feel good”

you’re squirming the second the head of his cock pushes into you as he slowly eases his way into your cunt, stretching you out, “rafey…it hurts”

“i know sweet girl, it’ll go away in a second and start to feel good. aren’t you glad you’re doing this with me? with someone you can trust instead of some random douche? you have me, i’m always gonna be here. I’m your daddy now, just relax and let daddy take care of you, alright?”

“no, no, no, no. that’s so wrong, you’re my brother” you’d whine and he’s enjoying the small pants and whines he’s pulling from you, burying his face into your neck, his cock pushing and pulling against your walls

“yeah? well who else is gonna make you feel this good, hm? don’t you want your first time to be good? I’ll pull out and paint your pretty self and leave you here and i know you don’t want that, you’re so close, yeah? c’mon, ask daddy to cum”

[lizajane2]

I was scrolling through TikTok and watched a short edit of a fictional couple saying goodbye. He's begging her to stay—let me repeat that— HE'S the one begging her to stay!

Which led me to watching the first season of Midnight at the Pera Palace. Why had I never heard of it before? I adore that it's set during the 20s; I've always loved that era. But anyway, I've got to vent about the main couple, so this is gonna contain spoilers for those who haven't watched it.

The way Halit looked at Esra from across the room in the first episode, I was gone. I was a complete goner. That look was perfection. It wasn't just awe, it was "I know you. I've known you forever, and I want you, only you." SOMEONE LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT!!

He is madly, passionately, and obsessively in love with her. And it drives me nuts. These two have altered my brain chemistry.

And I know he just killed another man, but the way Halit is holding her, his grip on her hand is even tight like he's desperate to keep her there.

The absolute yearning that is coming from him is so gut-wrenching in the best way possible.

And he said this, when he first met Esra in 1917:

Halit had me kicking my feet, giggling, and squealing like a little girl. Had me falling in love, too, damn. "You were made for me, weren't you?" WHAT?! That is insane behavior, good sir, and yet I melted like butter. And excuse me, but you don't need to look at her like that.

Prime example number 2:

They look at each other like they've been in love for years. And he doesn't even know her name! She never even told him. THEY MAKE ME SICK!!

But this, THIS RIGHT HERE:

For fuck's sake, kill me now!! How he grabs Esra to pull her close, leaving no space between them, is absolutely divine!! And then it gets so much better with his speech:

"I've been waiting for so long to see you again. I can't wait any more. Whoever you are, I don't care. Because the thing is we... we are meant to be with each other. You know it, too. I can see it in your eyes. I need you. And I'll do whatever I can to have you. And I can see that you need me, too. Destiny has brought us together."

I NEED THAT INJECTED INTO MY VEINS, TATTOOED ON MY SKIN!!

The soft caress of her cheek, how he tilts her chin up when he says "I need you. And I'll do whatever I can to have you." See, no, that's not... he's driving me absolutely wild!!

Halit: "But I'm in love with you."

Esra: "But I'm not in love with you."

She's stronger than me, cause girl why the fuck are you lying?!

And it's also insane behavior that Halit followed Esra through time when all he had to hang on to were fleeting moments. He even had a child on the way, but that didn't stop him. Nothing felt right without her. LUCKY FUCKING HER!!

His hand placement here:

IT MAKES ME WEAK IN THE FUCKING KNEES!!

"Don't leave me, then." "No. No. If you leave, my life will not be worth living, my love."

Who chooses to go back to their own time over him?!

Me:

[save-the-villainous-cat]

“So, are you just going to stare at my pretty face all day, or…?” The villain crossed their arms in front of their chest and rolled with their eyes. It was embarrassing enough, the hero didn’t have to rub it in.

“Is that such a crime?”

The villain let out a humourless huff. Their anger was evident, their frustration obvious.

And the pain, god, sometimes the villain couldn’t even breathe. Getting out of bed was already hard enough but being forced to work under these conditions?

Of course, it could have been worse. As part of their rehabilitation, they didn't need to do much, their work wasn't even that demanding.

But with their injuries, every move seemed to be unbearable.

“Just fuck off.”

“I have some documents to sign for you. My boss insists.” The hero fished a folder out of their bag and, unfortunately, they had indeed more documents. The villain found it quite unbelievable how much they had to sign. Although they knew it wasn't clever not to read over all of the pages carefully, they were too tired to do so.

They didn't really care that much either.

“Or better known as your excuse for visiting me,” the villain joked. Their side started to hurt again, a pain so cruel and prominent that they had to remind themselves to take everything slow.

It was actual hell. Not being able to do anything. Not being able to move freely. Although the doctor had assured them they were healing and doing well, the villain felt everything but fine. It had been over three weeks now and they were still waking up in the middle of the night. Pain robbed their sleep and pain robbed their mobility. They were impatient, they were annoyed.

The interrogation room was very familiar to the villain by now. Every week, they got to meet the hero. Either documents or lectures — whatever topic the hero chose, it was always a long conversation the villain’s body couldn’t manage towards the end.

However, they never said anything. The hero's visits were better than work. They were the best part of the entire week.

“I don’t need excuses to visit you,” the hero said, winking. They pushed the document towards the villain. “Sign here.”

The villain sighed. They didn’t even look at the paper.

“Can you ask them to increase my medication again at least?” the villain asked softly. They took in a deep breath and signed the document on the last page, their pen following their shaking hand's command as quickly as possible.

"I'm sorry, you're already on the highest dose possible."

"Oh." The villain put down the pen and stared at their nemesis. Their nemesis who had captured them. Who had put them in this situation in the first place. They seemed to be recovering just fine. They seemed to be fit and healthy, seemed to be in the prime of their life. Attractive and kind - perfection had carved itself through the hero. "...do you think the people here are honest? The nurses and the doctors, I mean?"

"Some of the best people in the country are working here," the hero said. "That includes medical staff."

"Okay." The villain's voice was quiet. They didn't understand the logistics behind a place like this, they didn't understand anything about the things the hero gave them to sign. "Did you know they're experimenting on me?"

"They take samples from your tissue or blood to look at in the lab. Seriously. You're not in any danger." The hero smiled sweetly and scratched the back of their neck. "I check the reports regularly and I talk to your doctor on a daily basis. It's their priority to help you."

"Why?"

"Well, you're a victim, are you not? We don't know much about the supervillain and their powers, so helping you recover could help us get more information on them. And considering your past, we have to...observe you in a special place like this." The hero leaned over the table to get to the document. Their fingertips touched the villain's knuckles by accident. "That's only one reason, of course. Most importantly, you were beaten to death and needed help."

"It wasn't that bad."

"Half your organs were hanging out of you when I found you," the hero said. Their voice was quieter now, maybe lost in their thoughts even. "I donated a kidney for you."

"You can be so romantic," the villain said. The sarcasm didn't really come across and the villain knew how half-hearted their jokes had become. It wasn't like they weren't grateful, it was just difficult to be saved and have a life when they had accepted their outcome a while ago. That day, they had accepted that they wouldn't survive. They had made their peace with it and then the hero had saved them.

And now, the villain had to live with this horrible pain.

With the nightmares and the fear. They had become a stranger in their own body. It didn't feel like they had control over themselves anymore. Although the hero was right, they couldn't help but feel like a lab rat.

"The point is...you're the only person who has survived them and if they find out you're alive..."

"A facility like this won't hold them back," the villain said. "It would be a minor inconvenience."

"I know, that's why-" the hero held up the document "-you just signed a request for special protection. With me being your caretaker."

Again, that sweet smile spread across their face but the villain didn't really know what that meant. Their poor heart skipped a few beats.

"Are you saying you'll be staying here?" The villain's neck started to heat up. Wasn't this a bit too much? Had they asked for too much? With the medication and the doctors...wasn't this too much effort for the hero to put in?

"I am saying you're coming with me if this gets approved. Which it will."

"Like, to your house?"

"Yes, darling." The hero leaned back in their chair and took in a deep breath. "I've been working on this ever since I found you. I knew the agency wouldn't let you recover in a prison that easily. I argued that you're a victim and a source of information. That brought you here. But still, they made you work in here which I argued to be counterproductive. The law department is pretty annoyed by me."

"I...I'm not sure what to say," the villain said. Their head was reeling. Maybe everything would be a little easier. Maybe waking up would be easier. Were they actually dreaming? They could be out of here soon?

"You don't have to say anything." The hero stood up and walked up to them. Once they were closer to the villain, they sat down on the table, looking down at them. "I just need you to rest."

"You didn't have to do this," the villain said. Their voice was shaking. "You didn't have to save me again."

"I can't help it. By the way, we have matching scars, did you notice that? I can't just leave you in here."

"You suck," the villain said, but there were tears in their eyes. The relief they felt was indescribable. This place was alright. The people were alright. But they weren't the hero. They weren't comforting. With their chair, they moved closer towards them. "You're so horrible."

They leaned their head against the hero's arm, too tired and overwhelmed to hold up the weight of their head anymore. Quickly, the hero went through their hair with their fingers, holding their jaw in their hands and guiding them to lay their head on their lap.

"Oh, honey..." They played with the villain's hair and scratched their scalp softly. Their fingers went over the villain's face, carefully avoiding their bruises. "I promise I will take care of you."

They stayed like this until visiting hours were over.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Could you write Eddie and fem!shy!reader having sex and Eddie’s friends hear them and makes jokes about it and reader gets really embarrassed and just sad. Eddie would probably step in and tell them to stop but she would be so embarrassed 😭😭💞

Angst and protective Eddie ❤️

Request by anon ❤️

❤️

All they Jeff planned to do was drop off these figures and then he and Gareth were going to Family Video to rent a movie but judging by Gareth's face something else had held his attention.

"Dude, do you hear that...is that?" The moans that Gareth heard before grow louder and it's unmistakably you and Eddie.

It's also quite clear that the two of you are having sex because the moans grow louder and more frequent.

"We shouldn't be listening to this dude" Jeff pulls Gareth away and the two of them drop the figures off at the door.

It's only when they head back to Jeff's car that they break into laughter.

"Looks like someone's enjoying himself tonight, maybe that means he will go easy on us tomorrow?" Gareth suggests and Jeff smirks then voices something he's also been thinking.

"Who cares dude. This is prime wind up material. Eddie is gonna flip" they drive off still laughing about what is to come tomorrow.

❤️

From the moment you walked into Hellfire something was off. Gareth and Jeff were sniggering about something and there was a small part of you that worried they were laughing at you.

That was ridiculous though right? They were Eddie's friends and they wouldn't do that. Eddie doesn't appear to notice this as he's setting up for the session, you slip in beside him and cuddle into him.

He presses a tender kiss to your forehead and then focuses on his task. Just being near him soothes you and chases away the worries you have about his friends- well until they start laughing again and that same horrible feeling comes back.

Eddie's head snaps up and he glares at them, "What's so funny?" Gareth shrugs.

"Oh nothing, it's just we heard some funny noises coming from your trailer last night. We were dropping off the figures we painted and it sounded pretty wild" Oh shit. Oh no. You wince in humiliation.

You could feel the tears gather In your eyes as some of the guys made whooping noises and waggled their eyebrows. Well all except Dustin, Mike and Lucas who looked grossed out.

Dustin scowls at the older members, "Yeah, real mature dudes" See that right there is why he's your favourite.

"Must have been some night huh? Eddie's been smiling like the Cheshire Cat since then" Grant jokes and Gareth nods.

"Heard all the noises last night and it was definitely good right eds?" He pales at the furious look on Eddie's face and the saddened look on yours and the tears. Now that sobers Gareth up. Ah fuck.

Eddie glares at them all and kisses your forehead. "What the fuck. How dare you make my girl feel embarrassed? You think your stupid jokes are funny?" He hisses and the rest of them stop sniggering.

"It's just a joke dude. We don't mean anything by it" Jeff soothes him but Eddie doesn't listen to this and stands his ground.

"It's making my girl uncomfortable so I have a problem with it. Shut the fuck up. Maybe if you two had partners then you wouldn't act like such buttheads all the time" You tug Eddie's hand and he peers down at you, his gaze full of love and tenderness.

"It's okay Eddie" You don't want him to fall out with his friends over this, Eddie shakes his head and holds you close to him. "It's not okay sweetheart, this is your safe space too and I won't have you the butt of some dumb joke"

Gareth and Jeff murmur apologies which you accept but Eddie is still pissed and maybe that's why he kills off their characters a half an hour into the session.

The message was clear. Never insult or upset his princess.

[sukunasun]

may i pls get some alpha sukuna… he’s so nasty (affectionate)

sukuna's every bit the perfect alpha on paper. ask the potential omegas lining up to fix a nest in his home and watch them salivate for a knot so large and a bond so deep. an alpha they'll present and prostrate for. there are rumours about the sheer weight and size of his cock, the heady pheromones, not to mention his week-long ruts. call it an impossible excursion—a breeding fuckfest with only one thing in mind. to be used and bred full of his pups. a litter or two or more. fucking without care—brutal, relentless, and insatiable.

but forget that his reputation precedes him. sukuna's true value as an alpha stands solely on his capability to hunt and chase, to capture a coveted mate he keeps...or lack thereof.

contrary to the rules of ritual, courting is by far the least of sukuna's priorities. turning his nose up at romance and the like when he's had potential mates eating out the palm of his hand since the beginning. there's no need to make a song and dance about it when he'd have his pick and fill of omegas without needing to try. much less convince them of his oh so superior traits.

he's attractive, you'll give him that. most alphas are. but there's something extra special about a tall man with tattoos and a mean side. such callousness. oozing masculinity and hot-blooded need. like an impending storm. too intense, too forthcoming, and way more than you're prepared for. after all, an unmated alpha is an available alpha and you're not one to compete.

'she's so inadequate for a mate. he'll reject her soon.' they say. any time now and some other needy thing might just swoop in to take her place. someone who's deserving of it.

what a waste, you've gotten the attention of the most powerful alpha you've ever met and want nothing to do with it—a self-righteous omega who believes alphas should know better. why give in to such baser instincts, how primitive, how primal. moreso in this day and age when suppressants are readily available and cycles can be tracked to a T.

which is why you don't look back when his gaze lingers a bit too long. adding distance when he not-so-subtly attempts to leave his scent on you. going as far as to turn him down the first time he cages you in and offers—upfront and blatantly—to 'help you out' with your next heat. as if you were some charity case. "promise i won't bite," he teases you about your barren neck and inexperience, unable to hide the smirk on his face.

"i'm not interested," you scoff, leaving him there with a hard-on in his pants and no relief. he might be a prized alpha but you won't entertain the idea of proving yourself. stroking his ego and preening for him. you were just as valuable of a partner despite being beyond your prime years with zero experience and still unmated.

••••••••••••••••••••

the only problem is that he won't take no for an answer.

he's made his choice among the other blurred faces and dull scents. been waiting a long time for someone as irresistible as you. "do you fear me?" he asks the moment you bend over his kitchen counter. he allows himself a peek at a round ass and soft hips, also to sniff at your scent permeating the air. omega. he knows as much. you make it pretty obvious with your distaste for alphas. but the sweet-scented slick between your legs is as telling.

geez. he thinks. those suppressants of yours are next to useless if you're already dripping this much within proximity to an alpha. not just any alpha either, sukuna's well aware you're beginning to fall for him. you want him so bad and it's so unfair. he's barely even touched you. but only because he's wondering if your underwear would survive the rest of the day. 'what if she's wearing a thong and her thighs get drenched too.' he grins like a wolf at the thought.

you admit with a heavy heart, "i'm more afraid of what i'm like with you." because how does one resist his advances. sukuna pushes the envelope just enough to make your knees buckle. his domineering aura makes everyone else cower in fear under a cold gaze but watch how it turns into a dreamy one when you push his face away after a kiss gets heated. his incisors poke you slightly like a teasing taunt and you find yourself fighting the pleasure.

"it's natural," he'll justify. how your body longs so desperately to belong to this alpha. succumbing to his...ferventness. his large, heated hands roaming over your breasts hidden underneath his shirt. the collar's too wide but it gives him room to wrap his fist delicately around your neck. you bite back an excited squeal when it feels so right.

••••••••••••••••••••

there's something off about him when sukuna returns home late that night. an unfamiliar scent lingers on his clothing and your stomach twist with a possessive feeling. the same one that eats you alive to the point of guilt. you smell it the moment he walks through the door of your bedroom. 

nothing like yours, it's not sharp enough to be daunting nor is it reminiscent of an alpha's scent. but it's potent. almost as if they were doing it on purpose. releasing their pheromones so he'd pick up on it, or worse, that you'd notice.

you try not to jump to any conclusions and you don't want to be jealous, but it's hard having your boyfriend come home with the smell of another omega on him.

you straddle him against the headboard with a hardened look on your face. involuntarily snarling as you peel his suit jacket off. shirt buttons coming apart under your rushed hands.

he grins at your ferocious display. reminds him of an angry kitten. he grinds his hips upwards, keeping you in place with steady hands. bouncing you on top of his clothed cock wasn't in the plans tonight, he thought he'd shower off the stench. it's not like it was strong enough to affect him.

but he tries to get you off instead, while he tries to get himself some self-control. "feel good?" he dares to question when you're practically losing your mind, a sudden spike of lust spurs in your belly, incited with just that little bit of friction. hoping feverishly that the scent of fresh arousal will be overridden by heat and breathy gasps through gritted teeth.

you're hardly in a headspace to reply but an eager nod shall suffice. "didn't think you'd be the jealous type," you feel him nipping at your ear, trailing sloppy kisses down your neck, the slight graze of teeth against freshly washed and oiled skin,

"i'm not jealous—" you lie. holding back a moan when he rocks a little faster, writhing atop him in pleasure. your nipples have risen taut against your nightgown and it makes an incredibly lewd sight. sitting in his lap so compliantly.

“i'd want them to watch us,” he whispers and you'd never do such a thing but the idea turns you on. he tells you that back in ancient times they used to partake in mating rituals and bonding ceremonies. privacy was more a privilege then and so was having an audience. that other omegas and betas would know of their place. how insignificant they are, if only they could watch you now, pussy fluttering and juices leaking all over their prized alpha.

••••••••••••••••••••

sukuna watches your face as you come undone for the fourth time. shushes your sobbing cries with a gentle hand caressing your back. "you don't have to worry," he's too busy holding himself back to find another.

says he wants to do things on your own terms and timing. swears that he won't easily fall prey to the lingering sweet-scented air around you, perfumed syrup and sugar. gently skimming his lips and tongue over a soft nape, a supple shoulder. he'll settle for merely licking the flesh he wishes to sink his teeth into. a caress, a chaste kiss, but never bruising or breaking.

he swallows the protest to earn your approving smile in return. it's enough of a struggle seeing you prancing around unaffected while he's been dying to fuck you senseless. to do what's natural to him. "it's wrong for an unmated couple to live together," seems to be everyone else's motto and he'd like to laugh but there's a shred of truth to it. he realises that it's impossible when he wants to fuck all. the. time.

gritting his teeth and forcing a smile when he's hit with a waft of your scent, he knows you're turned on. you want it just as much—every heat spent away from him in separate rooms. he smells your slick calling out to him. hears your moans poorly muffled and overshadowed by the sounds of you fucking yourself. your pussy bare and gleaming, he'll get on his knees for a taste. prying your twitching thighs apart, forcing them open if he has to, his lips nibbling and sucking your clit til you're crying from the pleasure, thrumming his tongue so fast it drives you crazy. all for the tang of your squirt staining his tastebuds and mussed-up sheets below.

but he shouldn't live life by the balls. no matter how full and heavy they get with the need for release. preferably inside you, so deep and plenty he finds himself picturing it at random times of the day. zoning out in his office, in the middle of traffic. how full you'd look with your belly bulging out. would it drip between your pussy lips or should he plug you with his cock instead, refusing a single drop to leak.

still, he wills himself to stay within your bounds. being lustful and possessive isn't anything to be ashamed of. it's part of his makeup but he's more than that. two people are perfectly capable of looking beyond their sex and desires—or so you tell him.

••••••••••••••••••••

his rut arrives when his symptoms not-so casually appear in the middle of the week. pheromones and a temper not even you can subdue. he's biting into his knuckles from the arousal spurred on by great timing and comically predictable circumstances—just the smell and sight of you there, happily unaware and otherwise tempting.

maybe your expectations have been exceedingly high. you can't change his nature. but how dare he forbid you from entering the home you shared, spare keys hidden and passcodes altered. "leave—" he warns, then breathes a frustrated sigh, "—it's not safe."

not that he feels particularly sorry about his tone, but what separates him from you is but a door and a razor-thin resolve. he's at his limit. he won't survive this on suppressants alone. not with you looking the way you do. "how can i help?" you ask worriedly, wrecking your head over him. wanting to comfort and coddle. for someone who turns their nose up at omegan stereotypes, you're playing the part so perfectly it drives him mad.

because it's the worst experience for an alpha to go through a rut alone. you'd understand the pain of having to suppress a heat. all the years dealing with the fevers and cramps. milk leaking from your sore nipples wishing he'd be there to relieve the pressure. a nest of him and only him. grinding and burrowing within amber, musk, and spice. intoxicating, intense, chasing after the smell found in his sweat-drenched tee, a wrinkled white shirt bearing smoke and aftershave on its collar. snuggling his pillow and getting off with your fingers or a whirring toy at its highest speed, but it's not enough, never enough. pussy contracting on absolutely nothing.

his den is dark and moody when you step inside. slipping into a frenzied haze, there he lazes with legs spread on your shared bed big enough for four, it stretches wider than you remembered, or maybe it's that you've yet to see it in this light, waiting to be broken in and littered with your belongings. he's grabbed at them in a rush. whatever your scent clung to. your duvet, your stuffed toy, and pretty, day-old crimson panties gripped in the same fist he pumps his cock with.

the threads fray, soaked fabric snapping and stretching with every drag down his shaft. rip. rip. rippp. a hole tears through when he tugs too hard and that heavy thing slaps over his stomach with a resounding smack.

you see it for the first time and wonder why not sooner. the perfect dick hiding in plain sight. actually, that's not true. you just haven't seen it this up close and personal. but given the sneak peeks—when the steam clears in the shower and it hangs soft and hefty, the way it juts out of tight gym shorts, or just...the swell of it rubbing in between your ass cheeks when he gets needy—none of them could've prepared you for this.

sukuna thinks it’s so ugly and brutish. he's found many an opportunity to tell you so, even now as his head cranes backwards with a frustrated groan, a growl that rumbles from somewhere deep within. ”it's enough to scare off any omega—” he says, a knowing smirk on his face when he can practically smell the slick dribbling down your thighs, saturating your panties, "—but not you."

a thick vein throbs on the underside, tip bulging and a little darker than the shaft, girthy and gushing with precum. his balls are heavy, taut with tension under the soft skin, and you shudder at the thought of what his knot would look like...who would've thought that such a monstrous-looking thing would have this much of an effect on you. weak in the knees and stomach fluttering in anticipation. the way it seems oh so daunting, how are you meant to take all of that inside you. if he laid the entire thing right against your stomach, how far would it go? it'd be enough to knock the wind out of you.

you try to calm your nerves. it's just a rut. it'll be over in no time. quick and simple. although you've read plenty of stories and watched the videos to know this wouldn't be a passionate embrace. no tenderness or care for your pleasure let alone your comfort. you wish to believe that he'll be careful if not a bit rough. and maybe a part of you wants to please him. despite all your certainties, would it be so bad to make him feel good and satisfy his needs? would it be wrong to wish for his scent mark, and his bonding bite. to be claimed and chosen.

it's an expression you've never seen before. as if he wants to devour you. he won't explain himself as he makes you watch. turning you into a voyeur as the urge takes over him. hooded eyes locked on yours, his blown-out pupils and slobbering drool are enough evidence for you—he intends to mate.

whimpering his name does nothing to quell his madness or ministrations. he's so far gone you don't think he comprehends the things he says, "can't wait to knot you...breed you...been wanting to taste you for so long..." he purrs, low and rumbling from his chest. sharp teeth grazing against your earlobe teasingly but never biting down on the cartilage, just a light nibble that turns you into a shivering mess. he's caught you within his jaws and your instincts argue against your better judgement, you're beyond fighting and struggling now while your weak hands push against his hulking mass to no avail.

yet, it's thrilling. amazing even. an alpha pinned atop you and nowhere to run. his nose nuzzling the crook of your neck, the back of your ear, both your arms lifted in his singlehanded grasp. he dives for every inch of skin, every spot that bears your aroma the strongest, going as far into the divot of your armpit while he's laving at the salt and sweat greedily. his saliva scenting sugar-sweet skin, marking you as his chosen victim. "you're so dirty—" is more of a plea for him to snap out of it. already embarrassed, exposed, and so eager.

he takes a pebbled nipple between his teeth and swirls his tongue around the tip of it. you're too distracted to realise he hadn't responded to your quip, because your scent told him all he needed to know, so did the soft whimper when he abandons one nipple, and the moan when he takes the other in his mouth.

there's a way to do things and sukuna's way is unmerciful. a man has never been this good at finding a clit, which is probably why his tongue won't leave it alone. he keeps his tongue broad until it comes out of hiding before he's got his lips wrapped around. he sucks on it languidly. pulls away just to spit and slaver, blow a raspberry for fun. marvelling at the drool and the mess you've made.

no time to waste when most of it was spent not eating your pussy. sukuna hums and hungrily feasts, tongue flicking frantically. your screams come out involuntarily, unable to hold back your moans coming out in short staccato bursts. a little panicked, but nonetheless agreeable. "something's happening! wait—" you hiss when it starts to burn a little. your hips lifting off the bed while his fingers keep prodding that special spot inside.

it only makes it all the more pleasurable when the pressure builds, when the squeeze feels so tight. you clench and feel every pass of his digits, every purposeful lick. "—kuna, i think i'm gonna—" his fingers quicken while his other forearm presses down on your pelvis to keep you in place and it's more than enough to make you come hard. gushing again and again, streaking the sheets and his smug expression.

"i've always wanted to do that," he admits cheekily. a face you can't stop admiring now that it's covered in your juices. your legs tremble and you can't catch your breath whilst he's leaving gentle kisses on your oversensitive lips, but he's far from finished with you.

with his cock leaking in his hold, he taps it on your sticky heat for good measure before gliding it back and forth, the opening of his cock prodding, getting caught on your clit as he slips in slow. with how thick he is, you feel every ridge and vein. gasping at the first push and fisting the sheets to try and accommodate.

unsurprisingly, it hurts just a pinch. "please,” you mewl, just that single word slipping past ragged breaths as you struggle. throat dry and crackly from the heaving and the foggy, post-orgasm haze. you don't know if you want him to stop or to go on but—"what if it can't fit?" you're genuinely concerned because it might not physically fit. already full to the brim, your pussy stretches so snugly around his shaft like a glove.

"there's a lot more to go," he hints at the rest of his cock he's yet to sheath inside you. "but we'll make it fit," a large palm rests over your womb as he swipes his thumb against your clit, hoping it'll ease the discomfort.

you nod weakly, whimpering "i trust you," but he's so big. you can feel your pussy trying to suck him in, a bead of sweat travels down your chest. mouth falling open as he slips in a little at a time, girth forcing your entrance to open wider. buries his cock in the one pussy he’s fantasized about the most and ruts like he's always wanted to.

••••••••••••••••••••

on the third day, you start getting restless. feeling sore and exhausted while running on no sleep and little bites of food. the room is in dire need of fresh air and the bed frame is on its last legs, but sukuna's urges grow stronger by the day. he barely manages to pull out to hydrate before he goes back to fucking you. always so slow and gentle, however, your moans and whines spill out, slowly but surely you succumb to every orgasm that rocks through you. wave after rippling wave.

still hard and throbbing the entire time. it's probably because every time your neck cranes upwards as an offering, baring your mating gland, he avoids it. fighting it. "why won't you knot me?" comes out sounding pouty and petulant but you don't care. your delectable scent slowly fades into a bitter note, anxiety and insecurity filling your voice. sukuna hasn't even tried to push it past your folds. steadily milking his knot outside of where it should be with his own hands is enough of a blatant rejection.

he reminds himself that he'd sworn to never let it go that far, knotting you would change everything, what if you couldn't see him the same way, that he was just another alpha who took you for himself. "i can't," guilt laces his voice and so does his frustration when his conscience appears from behind the pussy-drunk fog. his heart bleeding, his instincts yearning. 'i don't want to hurt you' is what he means. but what you hear in your dejected state is 'you won't be able to handle it.'

was it your inexperience that made him uninterested? you knew alphas liked them subservient, obedient. just like an omega should be. taking his knot without qualms. consummating in perfect rhythm. a tinge of pain shoots through your chest at the thought—sukuna could have any omega he wants, you've kept him waiting too long, you've made him doubt. you're not able to keep up, to please him, to be enough...despite giving in. despite trying your best to take him. he won't claim you,' says the voice in your head.

a whimper breaks from you at his words. you shouldn't have to ask, this was meant to be innate, instinctual, not something he has to restrain himself from. "aren't i your mate? don't i belong to you?" you sob, hot tears flowing down your cheeks.

he presses his forehead to yours, "you're gonna bleed, i might break you," he tries to explain, getting uncharacteristically soft in the moment. it's your fault for stumbling across a wounded beast. finding your way into his broken heart. binding the pieces back together while you soothe the aches and kiss his scars. 'yes you belong to me.' his beautiful omega who begs so nicely to be mated, if this is what you're like three days in, he longs to see what you're like in heat.

you shake your head, getting stubborn. you won't accept it and you're on the verge of clawing at him to get away. you've been ready at his mercy and what for. just to come out the other end dissatisfied and unfulfilled. fuck. you just want it to be done with. defile me, ravage me, you want him completely.

in an attempt to fight him, you let out a harmless threat, one you regret the moment it's uttered because you've gone too far—"if you won't do it, i'll find another alpha who will!"

suddenly, sukuna's thoughts are invaded by that sick thought. scenes of you naked and oozing slick. pinned beneath another alpha, his weight pressing into you along with his knot, glaring at him as he makes his claim the way he couldn't and it makes him snap.

the growling sound that leaves his mouth is a warning, and so is the hand that slips around your throat. large fingers coming together around your neck. the squeeze cutting your gasp short. it should frighten you, he could snap your neck as easily as it is to split a matchstick in half and right now, he seems just about ready to.

"careful now, omega," he spits out, teeth bared and demanding submission. forbidding and looming above you, his fist tightens ever so slightly. "you've forgotten your place," it seems you've misjudged your role and the precarious position you're in. fucked out in his den, in his bed. intentionally riling him up won't do you any good. no one touches you, scents you, or claims you but him no matter how your feet kick him uselessly, he doesn't move an inch.

"i'm sorry—" you pant, "i'll be good, i promise." you squirm and wriggle underneath, uncertain if you should run or relish in it. so ominous it turns you on even more. he's never put you in your place like this and you think you should make him jealous more often if it means he'd choke you out and go feral on your pussy.

"is that so?" he tries again. presses his cock in slowly inch by inch. feeling your pussy open up and yield to his girth. sukuna leans in close so he gets to watch your eyes roll back. bullies his way through with one deep thrust and finds himself balls-deep. "you want it so bad? want me to ruin this perfect pussy all because you wanna cum all over my knot, i won't stop til you're screaming and milking me dry—"

muscle memory forces your back to arch towards him. his broad chest against your nipples, delicious hot skin rubbing your hardened nubs the right way. he stills for a moment before he withdraws slowly, a mix of pleasure and anticipation coiling in your belly.

watching him, watching you. he looks down and groans at the obscene sight of cream and slick coating his shaft, viscous and too much to bear. the bulge in your tummy protrudes where his cock takes up all that space, rearranging your guts had never looked this lewd.

when his knot finally kisses your entrance, you feel it hot and prodding against you. desperate for him shove it in. to feel it pop through and nestle so deep, all the way to the hilt while he stays there and unloads himself inside you. balls twitching, sitting in a warm crook he’s found. your omega instincts sing at the thought of him filling you up. "knot me, breed me, my alpha—" you cry. begging for it, hot and immensely copious. a sticky mess all over, both the mattress completely drenched in fluids and your insides coated in his seed.

he feels the give of your womb, the tightness around the head of his cock. groaning at the sensation. just a little bit more and he'd be buried, finally. he fucks you violently, no holds barred. hands gripping your hips so achingly tight he might shatter your pelvis into pieces. you'll count the bruises later on but shall forgive him for the fact that he's cumming his brains out.

you're crying and babbling mindlessly, yes yes just like that. your limbs begin to shake as your peak edges closer, hand gripping his bicep while bracing yourself. wild and frantic hips jerking and shallow thrusts bumping and nudging against your cervix. striking deep and rocking you against the sheets.

your shivering doesn't go unnoticed and there he leans in to give your oiled and mouth-watering neck a final lick, shushing you with a gentle, calming kiss to your mating gland in preparation for his teeth.

and when he finally pushes his knot in, cock piercing your womb as your pussy clamps down viciously on its slim spot at the base, his teeth spears into your flesh with ease. there's the give of taut skin and tight muscle but soon he settles deep enough for blood to trickle and you come several times, pulsing and fluttering along multiple orgasms rolling in after the next, enough that you're shaking in his hold.

you cry and cry, overstimulated, sensitive, and so in love. not only with how full you feel but you surprise him with your own teeth sinking down into his trapezius, not too deep into muscle but just enough to leave tiny dents in his skin. your chattering jaw and slippery lips can't find purchase while you're preoccupied with whining his name. so you try again, this time closer to his neck.

sukuna catches on to your efforts and finds it all the more endearing. helping you find the perfect spot, he manoeuvres his neck closer while you give him light nibbles and sharp pinprick nips here and there but they're all too soft to pierce the skin. "do it," he pants, "mark me anywhere, i'm yours."

it must be his words that urge you but you think it's more to do with the greed roiling inside you. you want to leave a mark that he'd never be able to cover up. by the time he's grinding his knot into you again, pulling at your hips and guiding you on it like a toy, milking him of whatever's left, your lips part around the front of his neck without any more hesitation. inhaling his scent deeply, the vibrations of his groans rattling against your teeth, before biting down on his throat. teeth embedded deep and tongue lapping at his bobbing adam's apple.

he leans in to kiss you filthy and open-mouthed, tongues swapping spit and bloody iron while your thumbs caress his jaw and neck, adding a little pressure to the spot where his freshly bitten mating gland throbs quickly. a hummingbird wingbeat beneath your fingertips.

[nekropsii]

Why do people call Porrim an MRA??? it's such a bad take I can't even begin to fathom the logic.

Uuuuugh. Okay, to my understanding, the logic is predicated on two concepts:

Kankri is Correct, there is no Misogyny on Beforus.

Since Beforus has a Matriarch, "complaining" about the Oppression of Women on Beforus is the exact equivalent... Men complaining about men being oppressed, despite us living in a Patriarchal society.

This is a terrible argument, because... Porrim literally explains in detail that that is not the case.

Yes, Beforus has a Matriarch... A Superficial Matriarch, where the woman in power is more of a Figurehead than anything. Law Enforcement and Politics are handled mostly by "Higher CIPs" - Ceruleans, Indigos, and Purples - which are predominantly born (hatched?) as men. ... If all of the Social Order and Politics are Enforced and Dictated by men... Then that... Is a Patriarchy.

So, we have it directly explained to us that Beforus is Superficially a Matriarchy, with a Governing Body largely composed by Highblood Men, who canonically benefit from the subjugation of women, because having women be of generally lower class than men means that... Men can cull women, potentially on the basis of being women. You know, that social system, enforced by the predominantly male-lead government that allows for what is essentially the ownership of people you deem incapable of caring for themselves as pets? The system that will take any excuse in the book? Sure, that may have been a social rule implemented by their version of HIC, Feferi fucking Peixes, but it's still being used as a weapon. Just because something was made by a woman, does not mean it cannot be used as a weapon against women in the name of misogyny. You think Alternian Culling doesn't work the same damn way?

There's a sharp cut of irony you have to feel at the fact that Porrim literally says that conversations of Misogyny on Beforus are often shot down using "The Matriarchy" as an excuse. If Misogyny wasn't a thing, why the fuck are Rufioh, Kankri, and Cronus literally, textually, purposefully Misogynists? Why the hell is Latula like that, then? I don't think this is a 1-to-1 allegory for the real world, man- Troll World Building has NEVER been a direct, clean allegory for the real world. I do not think she was ever intended to be read as an analogue to Men's Rights Activists, I think she was intended to be read as an Alien Feminist. If anything, this feels less like an MRA, and more like someone getting shut down for trying to have a conversation about how Misogyny Exists in, like, Thatcher-Era England or something. Well, there's a Female Prime Minister, isn't there? Misogyny is over, clearly.

Porrim is constantly posed as an Exposition Fairy on the same level as Aranea, just... With Politics and World Building rather than Character Analysis. Porrim is portrayed as cool, collected, and correct. Do you think Andrew Hussie - literal Andrew Hussie - would portray a fucking Men's Rights Activist with that level of grace and style? Because the answer is no! Every time a character is a Misogynist in Homestuck, they are comically terrible! Rufioh, Kankri, Cronus, fucking Caliborn! Hussie is a lot of things, and yeah, some of these things are bad, but none of these things include the label Misogynist. Hussie is well known for... Not doing that, actually, that's, like... A major appeal of the comic. The female characters in Homestuck are known for being really, really well written and really, really well handled!! If there was a Men's Rights Activist in Homestuck, we would know about it, because that character would be comedically terrible, constantly dunked on by everyone around him, totally bitchless, and posed as a relentless fucking menace who does not deserve to breathe the same air as any of the women in the story. You know, like Cronus! And Not Porrim!!

Also, can we all take a moment of silence to ponder how much of an L it is to have your entire point of discourse be based in the idea that straight up literal actual Kankri Vantas is correct? That is capital e Embarrassing.

[houserautha]

These Destined Ends

Part Seventeen

Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Warnings: angst, depictions of violence, breeding/pregnancy kink, oral sex f receiving, some good ole p in v

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: I’m baaack (for now). My plan for this part was for Feyd and reader to fight/argue more but I love them too much and I just couldn’t do it

It takes a tremendous effort not to look at Feyd. You can only imagine the expression on his face, the depth of hurt in his dark eyes. Even the image in your head is enough to plant a seed of despair, spiraling through you like crushing vines.

“What baby?” Feyd asks again. His voice has taken on a steely undertone, perceptible only to you. You’ve heard a plethora of emotions running like currents in his voice, disguised by years of training and practice, but this one guts you the most. There’s a single layer of vulnerability.

Of questioning hurt.

You inhale and force yourself to say, “Our baby.”

There’s no way to know how he will react. You’ve seen every side of him — the lover, the monster, the soldier — and you’ve examined each with a careful eye, peering into the mouth of his being and inspecting its teeth. But no amount of familiarity can prepare you for his calloused hand encircling your wrist and tugging you to face him.

“Say it again.”

Tears burn your eyes. “Our baby.” And suddenly it comes tumbling out, all of it. “I’m pregnant. I haven’t known long. I-I was going to tell you after you healed because I knew you would fret over me. You have to understand.”

Your explanation hastens as he stares back at you blankly. You would’ve preferred him to lash out at you, hit you, call you any number of insufferable names. But this…

“You didn’t tell me,” he says. He’s mastered his voice enough that it feels like the prick of a blade under your ribs, waiting to push in.

“You couldn’t afford to think about me,” you tell him, “you needed to focus on your health.”

There’s a flicker there, in his expression. “It is not solely your decision to make. The child is both of ours. You should’ve told me.”

“Feyd —”

“Enough.” Feyd releases his grip. “I’ve heard enough.

“Feyd, please —”

His jaw feathers with suppressed emotion. Feyd whirls on the heel of his boot and storms off, leaving a wake of silence. You watch his retreating form, sorrow clenching in your chest like a fist. Only once he’s disappeared around the corner and you’re sure he won’t return, do you lash around to confront Chani.

“Why did you do that?”

“Do what?” A lazy smile unfurls on her face. “I assumed you told him already.”

“Fuck you.”

“Again?” Chani asks.

No one dares stop you as you dress for battle in your stillsuit. Chani better pray to her gods that you don’t find her alone in the battle field, you can’t promise not to take out your anger. The public argument between you two simmers as the group gathers, reviewing the attack. A familiar movement in the corner of your eye distracts you, and surprise grips you in response.

“What are you doing?” You breathe out, ashamed to admit how relieved you felt, however fleeting.

“Did you think I’d let you go out alone?”

Feyd avoids your gaze, keeps his own focused on Stilgar as the bearded man explains his plan. Your husband is so heartbreakingly beautiful. You commit his profile to memory, the essence of him — wrath and death, the god of war, but also the softer side of him that only you’ve seen. Before, on Giedi Prime, you didn’t know the pain of losing him, of seeing him bleeding out in the sands of Arrakis.

The memory flashes in your mind. The level of desperation in your voice is frankly pathetic, but you wouldn’t allow it for anyone else. “You have to forgive me, Feyd. I thought —”

“Save it.” His gaze slides, finally, to you. You might imagine the softness that forms there when he looks at you. “We’ll talk later.”

Your legs are cramping. You’ve laid on this fucking sand dune for what seems like a small eternity now, covered in a mesh blanket to disguise yourself. Feyd rests next to you. The Fremen are buried in the sand for ambush. You don’t know why you would want to help the Harkonnen, but they were insistent upon you being removed from the initial attack.

Your decision to move your leg is forgotten at the droll sound of a ship in the distance, a dark shape in the sky that grows exponentially larger. Feyd stiffens next to you.

“Rabban might be on that ship,” you say as loud as you dare.

Feyd’s mouth forms a firm line. “I hope he is.”

It strikes you that you’re quite grateful to be on the side of the Fremen as they launch their ambush, bodies upon bodies emerging from the sands like desert wraiths and immediately killing every foot soldier. You and Feyd launch from your hiding spot once the ship opens fire — Feyd to join the fighting on the ground, you aiming the blasgun given to you. You follow him with your eyes as he moves through the bloodshed like it’s a well-choreographed dance, both graceful and gruesome, his blades glinting.

Shot after shot you take out as many Harkonnens as you can, trying not to think about how you might know them. You focus, instead, on the fact that they would do anything to erase the life growing inside your womb, the promise of unity.

The Messiah.

From your vantage point the ambush looks to be waning when a figure disembarks from the ship. The last time you saw him, you’d tried to kill him.

The feeling hadn’t gone away.

Feyd kicks in the knee of a fellow Harkonnen, who drops to the ground. In a fluid movement he removes the helmet and slits their throat, then regards his brother. There’s no doubting that Rabban recognizes his brother, even in a stillsuit, recognizes the man he trained and fought with.

Every instinct in you is yelling at you to tumble down the dune to join the fight, but the rumble of a sandworm hums beneath your feet and you know that you don’t have time. Already the Fremen are retreating. Almost all of the Harkonnen soldiers have been cut down except for the spare few who stayed behind with Rabban. The ship whirs to life. You can’t tell if the brothers exchange any words before the ship lifts back into the air and Feyd is clamoring back to you, his face paler than normal beneath his protective helmet.

You know not to question him about it until later but when you return to the sietch, the ambush team rejoices in their triumph. You’re jostled back and forth and away from Feyd. “The Messiah paved our way to victory!” Stilgar exclaimes, dirt and blood smearing his face.

A roar of approval echoes him and you smile weakly at the Fremen patting you on the back and reaching out to touch your abdomen. An actual growl over your shoulder wards them off, though, Feyd appearing in your peripheral.

“Y/N!” Jessica emerges from the festivities, expression concerned. “Are you alright?” Her attention drops to your stomach.

Irritation has you grinding your molars together as you bite out, “I’m fine.”

“Where were you?” Feyd levels this question to your mother.

Jessica says, “I was doing my duty. Here.”

“You say you have the interest of the Fremen at heart but you make yourself conveniently scarce whenever the opportunity arises to prove it.”

You suppress a smirk. While healing, he missed most of your mother’s Bene Gesserit propaganda. It pleases you that he sees through her bullshit right off the bat. Even if he doesn’t completely understand it, or your participation in it, Feyd knows that Jessica is not as genuine as she says.

“Do you doubt me?” She asks him.

Feyd’s silence is response enough. A flicker of irritation crosses Jessica’s face.

“You need to speak to them,” she says to you, “tell them that you foresaw this victory. That with our help, with the support of the Messiah, they will succeed in this war. That today is just a taste.”

Feyd cuts his gaze to you. Well, he knows your participation now.

“No,” you tell her.

Jessica has the good sense to look taken aback. “No?”

“I am tired. And I wish to reunite with my husband. You speak to them.” You grab Feyd’s hand despite knowing that the contact is unwanted, dragging him away from the crowd and your mother’s palpable anger. For your sake he clings to you until you’re out of sight, then wrenches his hand away.

“I have not forgotten what you done,” he snarls.

You double check to ensure that no one is around to overhear what undoubtedly will become an argument. “I know.”

Soft to his unyielding fury.

“Tell me everything.”

Unable to look at him, you find a spot on the wall past him, regret burrowing into your heart. “I-I’ve known for roughly three months now. I didn’t know if he would survive the crash.”

“He?” A single word.

“Yes.” For the first time in his presence, you let your fingers drift to your abdomen. Feyd’s hands twitch but otherwise he’s motionless. “It’s…a boy. He’s strong. I can feel it.”

Feyd wavers slightly, the news leeching from the reservoir of his anger. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I told you, I knew you would never give yourself the time to heal if you knew.”

“It’s my duty to protect you. My privilege. And all this time, not knowing—” Feyd cuts off abruptly, a spasm of pain crossing his expression. “I thought we told each other everything. No more games.”

Your heart pangs. “I wasn’t playing a game, Feyd. I wanted to protect you. I had to watch you nearly die in front of me. I can’t lose you.” You blame the pregnancy hormones for the tears that spring to your eyes, the emotions thick in your throat. “Please don’t hate me.”

“Nothing you do can make me hate you,” Feyd murmurs after a heartbeat. He steps closer, his thumb swiping over your cheeks, your tears. He seems to be wrestling for what to say next and finally whispers, “You’re pregnant.”

“I am,” you say, laughing, nearly delirious.

A moment passes in which he stares at you in disbelief, before he loops his arms around your waist and picks you up off your feet. A smile graces your face, buried in his neck, as he whirls you in a circle and sets you back down with a rarely-heard laugh — clear and deep.

“A son,” he breathes. Realization encroaches his delight. “What does this mean? For us? For…him?”

Sorrow eclipses your own happiness, however brief. You keep it close to your heart, a memory for later, when it will be scarce. “The Fremen have been condition by the Bene Gesserit to believe our child is their Messiah.”

“Isn’t he?”

“Yes.” You cringe. “And no.”

“Explain.”

“As you know, we’ve been bred for generations to produce the Kwisatz Haderach. But according to the Fremen, to what the Bene Gesserits said, the mother must also be Bene Gesserit. And I am…not.”

“But they believe you are.”

Guilt punctures you like a blade to your lung, slipping between your ribs and expelling all of your breath. “Yes, they do. It’s all by my mother’s design. She wants the control.”

Feyd’s brow furrows. “Against my family?”

“The person in control of Arrakis is in control of the whole universe,” you say, “she wants to orchestrate everything from behind the scenes.”

To say it out loud devastates you, how you and Feyd have been only pawns in a scheme much larger than the both of you. And now your child.

Power drove your family apart.

“What do we do?” Feyd asks.

“I don’t know,” you reply honestly.

Feyd’s attention drifts to where the sietch is still celebrating their victory. “These people have been oppressed for too long. We can’t allow it to continue.”

“We need their allegiance, though,” you tell him. “We won’t win this war without them.”

“Wouldn’t we just be falling right into the Bene Gesserits hands? Lending ourselves and our son to them? Enslaving them?”

“I want justice for them as much as you.”

The slightest of exhales from Feyd. “What’s your plan?” When you look away without a reply, he reaches out to take your hand. “We’ll figure it out. But we don’t have much time.”

“Y/N.”

You turn to face your mother, wreathed in yellow fabric. The intensity of her blue-on-blue eyes is frightening. You haven’t dared to look into any reflective surface to see if yours possesses the same hue but, judging by the tint in Feyd’s, you probably look the same.

A visible sign of the way your life has transitioned.

“We aren’t done,” you say to her flatly.

“It can wait.”

Feyd bristles. “She said we weren’t done.”

Jessica lazily assess your husband. It incites a flare of anger in you; no one has ever looked at Feyd-Rautha before with such indifference. He simply did not command it. Out of the corner of your eye you peek at him. Shutters have drawn down on his face, making him entirely unreadable. The slightest of muscles jumping under his eye tells you of the turmoil beneath the surface of his composure.

“You think you own her?” Jessica asks. “Just because you’re wed? Need I remind you that it was by my design.”

Feyd snarls, “No one owns her.”

“You belong to centuries of Bene Gesserit design,” your mother reminds you, “this is your destiny.”

“It’s the destiny that you’ve manipulated,” you snap back. “What will they do when they find out that I’m not a witch? That everything is a lie?”

“It’s not my fault that you failed to live up to your potential,” Jessica shot back.

It hits you like a slap to the face.

“I suggest that you take your leave,” Feyd says into the stunned silence. He steps forward, half shielding you with his body.

Jessica’s upper lip curls. “The failed heir to the Baroncy. A weapon, but nothing more. Except perhaps a sire. Congratulations.”

“Enticing us into an argument isn’t going to make us give in to your demands,” you say. “I refuse to take part in your indoctrination anymore.”

“Fine. Tell them it’s a lie. They’ll kill you before you can say another word.”

Feyd curses under his breath. You both know that she’s right, that the link of your son is the only thing keeping you alive. It’s a tremulous relationship between you and the Fremen, one that not even the victory today could completely reconcile. You hate that Jessica still has such a firm hold over you. Over Feyd. Your son.

At your sides, your hands tremble with suppressed rage. “This isn’t over.”

“Isn’t it?” Jessica’s lips curl into a smile.

You lay side by side later that night, mulling over the events that had unfolded. The darkness obscures your husband but his presence beside you is solid, unyielding. Safe.

“He saw me today. Rabban.”

“Do you think they’ll come for you?” You ask.

His silence stretches on for quite some time before he answers. “Perhaps. I’m not sure whether I want them to or not. Probably not.”

“Why wouldn’t they? Surely they thought that you — we — died in the crash.”

“That’s just it,” Feyd says, “Rabban undoubtedly reported our deaths and, by admitting he’s wrong, will suffer for it. I suspect that he’s fuming right now actually.”

“Hopefully long enough for us to figure out our next step,” you murmur in reply.

The cot that you both have squeezed onto rustles as Feyd turns on his side. You can just barely make out his face, the shape of his shoulder. His hand moves to your abdomen, where it hovers before finally landing. His palm is warm on your skin, alighting a fire inside of you. No matter how many times you touch your entire being reacts to him, surging up to meet him. And there, as weak as a fluttering pulse, your baby, too small for Feyd to notice rejoicing in his closeness.

“Our next step is just to take them one at a time.” His eyes glisten in the darkness. “I do not want to miss out on these moments because I am worried about a future that is not promised.”

Feyd dips down, presses a kiss to your navel. You can’t help but sigh in response, hips rising, eager to feel his lips elsewhere. He chuckles, deep and rumbling, fingers dancing over the waistband of your pants. “We have conceived a child. Some would argue that our obligation to one another is finished.”

“And what would you argue?”

He pretends to pause, to consider this. “I would tell them that I must be cold in the ground to miss an opportunity to fuck my wife.”

A laugh escapes you as he masterfully removes the barrier of cloth between you, relying on touch to guide him down your body. Hips still wriggling, Feyd quells your impatience with his tongue. He slides through your folds like he’s savoring the experience, like he might never taste you again, tracing over your entrance but denying you the admittance. You buck up in frustration.

“Patience, jewel,” he murmurs against you, “I want to relish touching my pregnant wife for the first time.”

Your cunt clenches at this. You’re forced to squeeze your eyes, as the sight of him between your legs is almost too much to bear. Your whole life you have been chasing home and now, here, you have found it in him, in his ruinous touch. You were his, marked before by the band on your finger and now the child in your womb, not a sign of ownership but belonging.

“Such a good, perfect wife,” he says as he pleases you, a mixture of his fingers and his mouth. “Taking my seed so well and giving me a son. I cannot wait to see you grow with him in your belly, my child. Our child.”

He withdraws long enough to stroke himself, clearly aroused at the thought. Your thighs press together, slicked by his mouth and your own arousal, but Feyd pushes them apart with one hand while pumping himself with the other. In a single, fluid movement, he then pushes his cock into you with decisive force. You bite down on your lip to keep from crying out as he fills you completely, stretching your walls.

Feyd draws back and thrusts into you, over and over, building in ferocity. You bury your fingers into the cot to anchor yourself. Stars burst across your vision.

He speaks through each panted breath as if he might perish if he does not say the words. “I have given my heart to you, my soul, and in return you have given yourself to me. To my son.” There’s a hitch in his voice. Feyd presses his body to yours as he drives into you, holding you close. “You have given me the ultimate gift.”

Tears splatter on your chest. You realize with a lurching heart that he is crying, overcome with his emotions. You hold on to him just as tightly — there are no words fitting for this confession. Instead you pour yourself into him, into the push and pull of your bodies. And when you come together, crashing into your release, there is no distinction between you or him; you are only one. One breathing, pulsing being, utterly entwined.

Afterwards, when you have kissed the tears off his cheeks and he’s thoroughly cleaned you, Feyd curls up beside your abdomen. Adrift in your post-orgasm bliss, you’ve nearly succumbed to sleep when he says:

“I see him.”

Drowsy, you ask, “Who?”

“Our son.” This piques your interest, leading you to squint into the dark at him. Feyd, sensing your confusion, elaborates, “I see him in my dreams. Nightmares. I didn’t understand at first but now I know that it’s him.”

“Really?” Your voice is soft.

Feyd nods. His finger trails up the curve of your belly, not quite shaped by your pregnancy. “He looks like you and I’m so…I’m so proud of him.” There’s an edge of sadness in his voice now. “Even though, in my nightmares, he —”

You wait for him to continue but he does not. Feyd shudders against you, wrought with whatever pain the poison-induced dreams leave.

Feyd finally whispers, “Do you think we can change our fate? What’s been laid out for us?”

“I like to think so,” you say with honesty. Every instinct in you is raging at whatever has unraveled your husband so, but you know that the matter must be delicate. You don’t want to press.

“But what if we can’t?”

You ghost your fingers over his head, desperate to comfort him. The words unnerve you but you don’t dare let him know that you’re frightened by the same thing.

“I will love you until the very end of it,” you breathe, “that is all I can say for sure.”

Feyd replies, full of fear and regret, “I know.”

Part Eighteen

Taglist:

@moonsoulk @heartarianagran @torchbearerkyle @unicoreads @mamawiggers1980 @jovialeggsbailiffsoul @harkonnin @avidreader73 @unicorntrooper @beebeechaos @kamcrazy123 @wo-ming-bai @m-indkiller @kpopnstarwars @dacreshoney @stopeatread @the-na-baroness @therealslimshady-1 @unnisumi @aoi-targaryen @psychoffin @lauratang @austinswhitewolf @bloodyziggy

[queenstarscream]

Nah i need to talk about Earthspark Starscream for a sec.

I'm so, so so very angry about it btw. First, they gave us inplications that he could MAYBE change. Maybe not entirely good, but maybe not quite as evil as before. Not only that he had someone that tried to care about him genuinely, and still did.

Secondly, while it was tame- Megatron and Starscream still talked. It was so important. They should have gotten another chance.

I'm not saying Starscream in any universe has to forgive Megatron, but Earthspark could have made a really emotional and valuable scene between those two. They NEVER ever give a chance for Megatron to mourn or grieve the other Decepticons? Even if he hates Starscream still? Thats a lot of change for someone.

In season 2 they want Starscream to be the big bad and its just.. why? They could've done that but had him help in the end.

And then finally.. season 3. Where they tease us a lot- which i will admit i thought they wouldn't ever come back to him and just tease. And when they finally show him- he's "crazy", AND his supporter stabs him.

I'm sorry, what the actual fuck? As someone who is psychotic, and an abuse surviver, this is absolutely disgusting writing and i don't want to hear "they had limited time and new writers" as an excuse.

You know what you do? You have him help vaguely, and then he fucking leaves, if you can't be bothered to properly redeem him or anything else.

And since we are here, Earthspark s1 was good. Thats it. It focused too much on the humans ( which i DO appreciate and find it beautiful that the main humans are non-white. ) and not enough on the robots. I'm rewatching G1 and even though it spend a lot of time with humans- it still mainly focused on the robots.

Same with Transformers Prime and Animated.

I am so tired of series like this almost making me feel emotional and then its flat. Its like- Almost there, and then its like the producers are like "Oh remember this is a kids show and also only for kids. Btw this is a kids show. Dont be too emotional. Throw in a joke".

They could have had Megatron at least be the one to go get Starscream in the end to start that road of "i want to try to help you" PROPERLY.

The IMPACT of it all. The emotion it would have had. Not that Starscream is emotional nor is Megatron, but if they had written it right. They could have done it in a way where the abuser isn't forgiven, but they both help each other become better people within the moment. Or fuck- even a dangerous fight between the two ( worse than the first one ) with Starscream PROPERLY calling Megatron out with an audience of the terrans, Decepticons and autobots, maybe even Dottie.

Make it an emotional episode for lore and implications that are good enough for kids to understand ( see The Owl House ) and make it an episode about Growing as a person/bot and that its okay to be hurt, you don't have to forgive people that have hurt you + you don't have beat yourself up for being a bad person, you just keep working on yourself.

But also this has the Decepticons REALLY realize how bad it was, as well as the Autobots ( though i feel like Optimus and Elita already would know ), and Dottie could talk to the Terrans about it, and thats how it could've been "a kids show lesson" or whatever.

Sorry i rambled i am just so. We could have had it all.