#what i would give to own even just ONE figure from that line man

[mountttmase]

When You Know - Part 3

Note - I think I’m starting to blur the lines between fic and blurb as these are getting longer each time 😭 please don’t hate our baby too much even though he deserves it 😭 feedback is appreciated as always 🩷

Pairing - Mason Mount x Reader

Word count - 3.6k

Warnings - Angst

If there was one thing you wished you hadn't done that first night you were home with Freddie was sit on your phone and look through instagram for a bit once Freddie had been fed and you’d caught up with everything you needed to.

Ignorance is bliss they always say.

He’d told you he was going to an event. That Benny had set it up and he couldn’t back out but as you flicked through everyone’s stories from the day you felt your heart stop as you clicked on ones from a girl you used to work with.

It was fairly obvious to you it was him, the same t-shirt he’d come to pick you up in and those shorts were a Christmas present you’d gifted him just nine months ago when everything seemed so different.

You weren’t really friends with the girl anymore, losing contact after you quit your job for a better opportunity but you’d seen her on nights out before and she had always seemed interested about yours and Mason’s relationship. Now you probably knew why as she’d had the eyes for him but you never figured he’d want the same.

The thought of looking at another man was not something that was in the agenda for you right now and if you were being honest with yourself you weren’t sure if ever would be. You were still unbelievably hurt by everything that had gone down between you and Mason, living in denial for the most part and believing that this would all be over soon and he’d come back to you but this was a kick in the teeth. Seeing him with other girls wasn’t something you’d thought about happening as everything still felt so fresh but there he was and you didn’t know what to do about it.

You knew it was him before you opened it, this weird feeling in your gut whenever he messaged and whilst the sight of his name lighting up your phone used to fill you with butterflies, now it was only dread.

His wording frustrated you, knowing It’s not that he didn’t want to cause a bother, he just didn’t want to be there if either yours or his families were around as he knew both sets of parents were mad at him and it would be easier for him to just avoid everyone.

Thankfully, you had the morning to yourself as everyone was planning on coming over in the afternoon to give you some time to settle in and whilst you were looking forward to some alone time with your little squish, Mason was Freddie’s father and you weren’t about to deny him time with his son.

So you told him you were free until two and he promised he’d be over shortly. You didn’t bother tidying up or making yourself look presentable as you knew it didn’t matter and when there was a knock on your door 15 minutes later, you let him in with a stoic look.

‘Hey’ he smiled, clearly not picking up on any awkwardness on your end so you just nodded him in and shut the door behind him. Leading him into the living room where he was straight over to Freddie so he could pick him up and hold him to his chest.

You wanted to scream your lungs out. To cuss him out for not caring about Freddie at all last night and putting his own needs over his two day old sons but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Instead taking a different route to let him know you knew what he’d been up to and to hopefully make him sweat a bit.

‘So how was your event last night?’ You asked him after you’d gotten him some water and set it down on the coffee table.

‘Oh yeah, it was good thanks’ he smiled, his face not giving anything away as he lied through his teeth and you knew you’d have to keep pushing him.

‘Yeah? What was it for again?’

‘Some new game that’s coming out’

‘Oh really? Sounds like a big deal’ you nodded as he shrugged but you didn’t give him the satisfaction of telling you anymore lies. ‘Not something I would have worn shorts to but hey, that’s your decision. The pizza looked good though’ you nodded and you saw his face drop instantly as he clocked on that you’d figured him out. ‘I can’t believe they’d hold a gaming event at Maya’s house too, that seems super impractical’

‘Y/n I can explain-’

‘What’s to explain? You lied and spent the first night your first child was at home with another woman’ you shrugged sarcastically, getting more and more agitated as he tried to argue with you about it.

‘But-’

‘The first night, your first child was home, Mason’ you practically growled at him through gritted teeth as your eyes filled with tears, no longer willing to hide how you were feeling behind jokes. ‘How could you do that to him?’

‘Oh give over, it’s not like he even knows what planet he’s on right now let alone if I was here or not’ he scoffed and you couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth.

‘But you did know, that’s the point. Things are different now, you can’t just do what you want all the time you need to have different priorities’

‘I didn’t come here for a lecture on how to live my life. You don’t get to decide that anymore’

‘I never did! You’ve always done things your way, that’s why we’re in this mess right now’

‘I think you need to calm down’

‘Yeah well I think you need to leave’ you told him, standing up so you could walk him out be he still sat there with Freddie asleep on him. ‘I’ll sort a schedule out and and we’ll go from there’

‘No, I won’t-‘

You cut Mason off with a loud gasp. Your hands flying to your tummy as a large shooting pain traveled through you and knocked the wind out of you and you didn’t know what to do next. Turning away from him so he didn’t get the satisfaction of looking at you in pain but the words that came out of his mouth sounded soft and sincere.

‘Are you okay? What’s wrong?’

‘Oh like you give a shit’ you spoke through gritted teeth, not in the mood for him suddenly to be a nice person. ‘I’m fine, just go’ you whimpered.

‘No, I’m here now and I want to see my boy. You’re obviously in pain so why don’t you go and lay down and I’ll look after him for a bit’ he offered and you knew you needed to say yes. You were exhausted and even though you were furious you didn't want to stop Mason from seeing his son, so without another word to him you left the room and popped upstairs to have a lie down.

You obviously needed a nap as you were practically asleep as soon as your head touched the pillow for well over an hour. Waking up to a cold bottle of water and a packet of your favourite biscuits on your bedside table as well as some painkillers but there was no time to sit and think about any nice gestures as the noise from downstairs had your attention straight away.

The sound of Freddie’s cries always made your tummy twist, but you also knew it was a sound you would have to get used to. His wailes echoing through the house and you got up as quickly as your body would let you to make your way downstairs, finding Mason doing laps of your living room as he tried to comfort Freddie who was balled up on his chest.

‘He won’t stop’ he gulped as his eyes caught yours. ‘I’ve changed his nappy so it’s definitely not that, I don’t know what else-’

‘He’s probably hungry’ you told him flatly. ‘I’ll go and grab his bottle’

Mason nodded to the sofa as you came back in and you could see he was getting ready to transfer Freddie over to you so you got comfortable before taking him in your arms. Settling him down so he was nice and comfy before you popped the lid to feed him. His cries stopped instantly and you could feel Mason relax as well as he hovered next to you just by the arm of the chair. Eventually kneeling next to the sofa so he could look at Freddie but you could see there was still a cloud of worry all over his face.

‘I didn’t think about him being hungry, how stupid am I?’ He chuckled, eventually leaning his elbow on the arm so he could get a better look at him and for the next five minutes you sat in a slightly uncomfortable silence as you watched him feed.

‘I’ll get out of your hair now, if you want’ he told you quietly but all you could do was shrug. Not liking the way he would constantly use the excuse of being in the way as a reason to be apart from the pair of you but you needed to get used to figuring out how to do things on your own so you just nodded and kept your eyes on Freddie.

You almost let out a smile when Mason pressed his lips to the crown of Freddie’s head, but when he did the same to you, you froze in shock. Your tear filled eyes following him out the room and only when you heard the door shut behind him did you take a shaky breath out.

This was proving to be a lot harder than you anticipated and it was only the first day. Your expectations that Mason might pull himself together for his son were out the window and as the months dragged on he only got worse.

You had Freddie every night and that’s how you’d agreed for it to go from the start with his job, but Freddie was three months old the first time he took him for a few hours on his own. You wondered if he was just nervous and unsure of how to look after him but you had been the same in the beginning and you’d powered through it.

The fact he did so little made you appreciate the things he did do but when you finally cottoned on to the way he wasn’t putting effort in you felt that same resentment return. Thankfully both sets of grandparents were angels and as the weeks went by you saw more of Debbie than you ever did of Mason. You didn’t mind though as she seemed to be the only person you could really speak to about your frustrations with him as she had the exact same ones and it felt good to be heard and understood.

As the weeks went on you felt more and more like a single parent. Freddie’s big milestones you celebrated just the two of you and as he grew before your eyes you revelled in the fact you really did have a little best friend for life and no matter what the future held.

It was in the rare occasions that Mason did have Freddie you felt the worst. You never wanted this and you most definitely never wanted this for Freddie either as your dream was always to have him grow up in a happy and stable home with both parents who loved him and each other more than anything. But when he was gone you felt like you were missing a part of yourself and you spent your time going through the motions until he was back to give your life purpose.

In all the years you’d known Mason, you’d never known him to be as flakey as he was starting to be. Plans made to look after Freddie fell through more times than they happened and you were just thankful Freddie didn’t understand how much his dad was letting him down.

Freddie was nine months old when it came to a head. It was the morning the first time Mason was going to take him for a few days back home to Portsmouth and you were sat in the living room with his little bag packed alongside yours as you’d booked yourself a little staycation as a distraction from being away from him.

Mason should have been arriving in just under an hour and you were sat in the sofa having a nonsensical chat with Freddie when you felt your phone buzz.

‘I’m so sorry, baby’ you whispered as you picked Freddie back up and held him to your chest. ‘It doesn’t matter though, you can come with me on my trip, okay? We’ll go to the seaside and play on the beach and I’ll win you a toy on the pier’ you giggled, trying to laugh through your tears as you were so upset for him. ‘It doesn’t matter that he can’t have you cause I’ll give you everything you need, poppet. I always will’

The good thing was he was all packed already so you got everything in the car and got on the road. It took a little longer now Freddie was with you as you had to make extra stops but you made it to your little home for the week in good time and after a quick run to do the food shop you were eating dinner with him on your lap as you watched the sun set into the sea.

You didn’t hear from Mason at all during your week and you weren’t sure if you were happy or annoyed about it, but in the moment you didn’t didn’t let it bring you down. Doing everything you told Freddie you would do by spending your days on the beach and taking him for a swim before playing on the sand. Thinking Mason going away was actually a blessing in disguise as you knew you were having way more fun with Freddie here than you ever would have had alone and and after a few days you felt even more energised.

The last full day of your trip the pair of you decided on a lie in. Freddie was curled up in a ball with his head on your shoulder as you flicked through the usual apps on your phone but as you made it to instagram you noticed you had way more messages than usual.

You didn’t know what it was, but you knew in soul that something wasn’t right and you’d felt it all morning so when you noticed al the messages in your inbox you knew it wasn’t something good.

It was a regular thing when you and Mason were together for people to send you articles about him and even more so when you’d split up and it wasn’t public yet but it had been a few months since the last one. Mason was always out on the weekends and linked with different people but you’d become numb to the whole situation and didn’t want to read them anymore.

This morning was different though and as you clicked through the random messages you saw they were all sending you the same link. Eventually clicking on one to see what the fuss was all about but once you had you wished you had the power to go back in time and delete it from your memory.

That same sticky uncomfortable feeling washed over you like it always did when you had to read something like this. Waves of heat rippling through you as your heart thudded uncontrollably and you wished you’d just ignored your phone completely today.

You didn’t know what to think, he wasn’t your problem anymore but the fact he’d skipped out on a week with his son for a week in Italy to seemily shag every girl in sight made your heart break for your son. You would drop any plans and do whatever you needed to do to be there for him but his dad didn’t play by the same rules.

As much as you told yourself it didn’t matter and he was free to see who he wanted it still stung. The thought of even looking at another man was off the cards for you but clearly the same didn’t apply to him and it seemed to be the final nail in the coffin for you. You had way more respect for yourself than he clearly did and if this is how he wanted to play it then you’d finally wash your hands with him.

So you did what you always did. Dragged yourself out of your pit of misery and poured your focus into your boy in hopes he’d never feel an ounce of hurt like you currently were.

The salty sea air felt warm as it brushed against your skin, making the hairs on your arms stand up on end as the sun bore down on you and as you felt yourself begin to warm up, you covered Freddie up a little more so he was shielded from the light.

He was currently sat on your lap with his head on your chest, his little arms and legs either side of you with his front pressed to yours as he snoozed away peacefully and your need to protect him from everyone and everything was swimming through your veins as you thought over everything that had happened this morning.

When your phone started buzzing you knew it was him without even looking. Your eyes glancing down to see his name filling your screen as he tried to call you but you just let it ring off as you were in no mood to talk to him. That didn’t stop him though and you sat for a good 20 minutes as he called and called and called but you held your ground and ignored him even though you wanted to answer and tear him a new one.

He eventually stopped, a brief 20 minutes of relief as your phone remained silent but when it went off again you couldn’t help but look to see if it was him. You were met with something different this time though, a sweet picture of Freddie as a tiny baby laid in Debbie’s arms with her name flashing above it and even though you really weren’t in the mood to talk to anyone you knew you couldn’t ignore her.

‘Hiya love, everything okay?’ She asked, her voice just as warm and comforting as usual and as far as you could tell she didn’t sound off at all making you think she had no idea about your whole morning's ordeal.

‘Hey Debbie, yeah fine thanks. You?’

‘Yeah all good here’ she grinned but the beat of silence just after made you stiffen in worry. ‘Listen, Mason just called me. He’s been trying to get a hold of you all morning but he can’t get through?’

‘Oh yeah… um’ you croaked. Rolling your eyes just after as you were so annoyed with yourself for not holding together for longer but she’d heard you upset now and there was nothing you could do about it.

‘Y/n? What’s wrong hun?’

‘Sorry’ you blubbed, no longer caring about holding it together. ‘Mason was meant to have Freddie for a few days and I booked myself a little get away but he cancelled the morning he was meant to pick him up and I’ve brought Freddie with me. I guess just after that article this morning I-‘

‘What article?’ She questioned and you almost laughed that he’s obviously forgotten to tell her that crucial but of information when he’s called her up just before.

‘Just search his name, you’ll see’ it you laughed and you could just about hear her sigh on the other end.

‘Where are you?’

‘Isle of wight’ you laughed. ‘Sorry I know it’s super close, I was actually planning on dropping in with Freddie on the way home tomorrow if you were around?’

‘Of course I am, just get here whenever you like okay? I’ll make lunch for you both’

‘Thank you’ you whispered, thankful that you had someone like her in your life and after a quick chat she let you go. Clearly eager to call Mason back after she’d looked him up and you felt a slight sense of achievement knowing he was about to get told off.

You had a quiet night in for your last night. Packing up all your things after you’d put Freddie down for the night with his little stuffed crab you’d won him on the claw machine and even though this week hadn't been what you’d planned you wouldn’t change it for the world. There was the small issue of Mason but you decided to put that to the back of your mind until you pulled up outside his parents house around 11am the next day.

Tony was first to greet you and after a quick hug he’d taken Freddie off and inside for some playtime but as soon as you clocked eyes with Debbie your felt your walls crumble.

‘You’re okay’ she whispered into your hair as she held you. Her sympathetic voice only upset you more and as your quiet sobs shook through your whole body it hit you that this was Mason's mum and you know you should be putting on a brave face for her. She had always treated you like her own though and you knew she cared for you so as she pulled you inside you forgot everything and let yourself finally feel everything you’d been holding on for months.

y/n

liked by masonmount, lulu546, ellie_xo and others

y/n When life gives you lemons 🍋

view more comments

lulu546 the sweetest lemon I ever did see 🥹 I just wanna eat him up

y/n how I haven’t taken a bite out of him yet I’ll never know

debbiemount60 what a gorgeous little man 🥺 can’t wait to see you both tomorrow!

y/n us too! Freddie is so excited to see everyone 🩷

lew.mount I hope he’s in the mood for uncle cuddles 🥰

y/n he always is! But I’ll take one too if you’re offering 😂

[readingtoinfinity]

Thunderbolts*

I'm so glad a Marvel movie is good again. I've been tapped out since Endgame and Spider-Man: No Way Home, and it's just nice to watch the thing I like entertain me.

The Thunderbolts: a ragtag team of misfits, moreso than even the Avengers, all sent on a mission where they turn out to have a lot more in common than they think, and also be in way over their heads.

First some negatives, because even though I enjoyed this movie there are some problems. Namely: Bucky and Ghost aren't really given anything to do in this movie, and are just kinda along for the ride. Taskmaster isn't in the movie very much, and it's a little disappointment to not have them for long or give them a second chance.

But man, what a cast! And what a fun plot. A lot happens and it's hard to remember it takes place over less than 24 hours because you get so endeared to these utter assholes. Yelena is the standout here, where it feels like this is almost her movie, and Red Guardian and US Agent are both excellent supporting characters in the central theme of depression.

Speaking of: Robert "Bob" Reynolds AKA Sentry AKA (spoilers?) the Void. What a fun, dynamic new character! Everything about him, from his introduction to his powers to his turn as a villain was perfectly executed, especially his design as the Void.

It's hard to compare the two, and it almost falls into the trap of giant cloud adaptation, like Galactus in Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer or Parallax in Green Lantern (2011), but I hold it as a much better version of that trope. Because of course the comic-accurate Void is a mess of limbs and proportions that would be a nightmare to animate, so while the Void in Thunderbolts* is technically a lot simpler, I think it works because

The rest of the execution is good, so it is bolstered by its constituent parts.

Their own design is highly creative; that's not him being shadowed by the sun, that's just a black void where a person should be. You only ever see his eyes or (in one notably terrifying scene) his teeth.

If I may offer one complaint that makes this movie merely a fun treat rather than a delectable meal, it would be the surface-level treatment of depression. As someone who suffers from it (and of course I do, I'm on Tumblr) there's a nature to the hole in your heart that the movie doesn't quite grok.

There's scenes that feel familiar (Yelena, going through the motions; Red Guardian, drowning in alcohol and nostalgia; Walker, desperately trying to earn approval; the self-medicating, the self-loathing) that's touched on and brought to the forefront. I was also touched by the final resolution of the Void plot being a lot more about empathy and understanding than it was about fighting, which I appreciated. And the core thesis that spending time with people you love and helping other people will help alleviate symptoms.

But it is very surface level, or entry-level might be more accurate. All the characters are people who haven't been taking care of themselves who now have to figure out what their own mental health has to look like. It's Hollywood's obsession with origin stories: everyone wants the bold beginning, but the muddy middle makes for a complicated conclusion. I just hope these characters retain these flaws and struggles in the future and we get to see their good days and their bad days.

All in all: I had a lot of fun. The parts that were good were rarely great, but nothing felt bad.

(also: you can make a fun game by watching the way this movie dances around political lines. John Walker is a case in himself about how removing the conservative angle from his politics kinda weakens the nature of his character as a whole, but there's a number of times in this movie where politics are discussed and the movie very clearly goes out of its way to not say Republicans or Democrats. It's hilarious)

[morninkim]

Green Dragon Battlizer!

(based on the Power Up Green Ranger figure from Bandai's 2010 MMPR toyline)

[dirtylilspawn]

ᴍᴀɴʜᴀɴᴅʟᴇᴅ

Summary: You prank the lads boys by aggressively manhandling them.

Fandom: Love & Deepspace

Parings: [Zayne x Fem!Reader, Xavier x Fem!Reader, Caleb x Fem!Reader, Sylus x Fem!Reader, Rafayel x Fem!Reader]

A/N: Works been killin my butt. But anyways I saw many prank tiktok videos about women aggressively handling their own partner. Whether it be kissing them, love bites, or putting them on top of the kitchen counter. Figured it make a funny small prompt of how it would go lol.

Warnings: Fluff & humor, suggestive stuff, cursing

════════════════════════════

ZAYNE

You've been feeling pretty clingy today.

You didn't know what it was that made you feel this way. Maybe just seeing Zayne, waking up in his bed, staying over at his place, not bothered by work, both of you doing very domestic stuff, made you feel really touchy feely. And Zayne was much aware of this notion from the very start of the day. Not that he every denied your loving affection, no not ever.

He accepted every hug or kiss, and returned it with much love. Oh, how it only fuels the fire of your clingy nature even more.

Here you are, coming out from the kitchen, to lean against the wall, with a glass of sweet tea in hand. You tilt the glass towards your mouth as your eyes were trained on one thing in particular.

There Zayne sat on the large couch, in the living room, with a book in hand. His eyes soft but narrowed in focus as he reads the pages, he's currently on. His back leaning on the cushions, skillfully flipped each page with his thumb. As his elbow was pressed against the arm of the couch, with a small portion of a sugar cookie the two of you had baked not long ago, in his hands. He immediately finishes it, taking it into his mouth with a small hum. Licking off any specks of crusts lingering on his fingers.

Watching this perfect, handsome, hunk of man as your sipping your tea just sent you up in orbit. It was too much to take in. Does he know how amazing he is, just sitting there? That's what you thought, the audacity of this man to sit and read so cutely, in his causal home attire -white shirt and grey sweatpants-

You had to do something about it.

You walk up to where Zayne was, placing the cool glass on top of the glass ottoman in the middle of the living room. The clink of the glass made Zayne look up at you. His demeanor calm and relaxed, before looking down at his book.

"Any thoughts about what you'd like for din-"

Before he could even finish that sentence, Zayne was attacked.

He found your hands squeezing his cheeks harshly, pulling him closer to your face. You bend down to kiss him on the lips. His eyes widening in shock and confusion.

But you continue you assault on him.

You kiss him very passionately and aggressively. Hands running along his jet-black locks like a crazy loon, messy up his hair. All while you muttered along his lips, words of affirmation.

"God dang it Zayne! You -kiss- are so -kiss- perfect -kiss- uugh!!"

You start to kiss all over his face. To his cheeks, forehead, nose, eyes, and anywhere else you could get your lips on. His book on the floor, as he had already dropped it do to your aggressive love session. His eyes still wide with so much confusion.

It didn't even stop there, as you suddenly push this man, laying his back onto the couch. Pinning him by his shoulders just to keep him still. Your kisses never stopping, as you go lower to his neck, giving him rough kisses down to his collarbone.

Finally, you pull away.

You had found yourself straddling the pour man, your arms still pinning down his upper body.

You look to see his full face that was very much a very funny and cute site. His ears were burning red, hair a mess as he stared at you with such unreadable green eyes. His mouth was slightly agape as if he was trying to figure out what to say to you in that moment. But he closes it, his lips in a tight line, eyes closed, inhaling a long breath to re-catch his own thoughts.

His head leans to the side as he opens his eyes, not looking you in your own eyes. Zayne's heart was pounding in his chest right now.

"You...-sigh-"

You couldn't help but laugh at this site of him. It was too funny to behold, seeing Zayne completely embarrassed and yet flustered at the same time.

"Caught you off guard huh?"

You quip with a prideful smirk on your lips. Zayne brings his eyes to look up at you. You could see he was trying to act all serious, and calm, but it was obviously faltering. As you could see the corners of his mouth flick up in a small grin. His emotions getting the better of him, as he lets out a laugh. A mix between disbelief and fondness.

"Well, I didn't expect to be attacked in my own home by my partner."

He states this, and you laugh even more. An endless supply of giggles and laughter that you couldn't stop. One that Zayne couldn't help but join in, loving the sound of your laughter.

You let go of his shoulders, before leaning down to give a soft kiss to your boyfriend. A sweet smile stretching across your mouth.

"Well, you're just going to have to get use to it. Because there's definitely more to come in the future."

He rolls his eyes at you.

"I fear for my safety."

He says this sarcastically of course, but deep down he's already preparing for the next attack. Just in case, so next time you do this stunt again, he'll be able to calm his heart. Because that shit made him feel like he was having a straight-up heart attack.

════════════════════════════

XAVIER

You were laying on your bed.

Stomach first, as your feet were up in the air. Your hands clutch onto your phone, watching silly videos. Xavier was up in your bathroom taking a shower from a hard day of working. You had already taken a shower first, reasons being that Xavier told you to go in first, and second was because he was already on the verge of sleep. You were about to say to take a shower together, but the man was already nodding off as he sat on your bed. So, you decided to allow him to take a quick nap while you take your shower.

It has been a long day for the both of you, as you had both just got done with work. A bunch of wanderers to take down here and there, nothing too serious of a threat to get badly hurt, but enough to feel exhausted. And it definitely showed with the both of you, glad that it was the end of the day.

Xavier wanted to come over your apartment, because he finds it more comfortable, and wanted to sleep with you tonight. Plus, you figured he was too lazy to go up to his own apartment complex that was just a floor above yours. You never complain, as you would also come over to his complex and sleep there sometimes.

As you were kicking your feet, over the audio on your phone, you could hear the shower suddenly turn off. Indicating that Xavier was all done with his shower. He soon later came out, opening the door the connected to the bedroom. He lets out a silent yawn; while wiping his hair with a small white towel, a large towel was wrapped around his waist. His body shinning in the dim light from the room lights, due to the excess water cascading down his chest and stomach. You can see his full tempting v-line below his abdomen making your face heat up from the delicious site alone. He looked so appetizing yet cute at the same time.

You turned off your phone, placing the device on the bed-side counter. You sat up before getting off the bed, making strong strides towards your gorgeous boyfriend. His eyes open a bit seeing you coming forth, watch as you wrapped your arms around his torso head leaning on his slight wet chest. You didn't mind though, as you snuggled with him, smelling his freshly showered body. The scent of sweet vanilla filling your nose; he used your body wash.

"Hmm...You smell good."

A goofy smile presents itself on your lips. Xavier smiles softly, leaning in your touch as his own arms wrapped around you. His arms holding onto your shoulders rubbing them gently. The small towel he held was draped securely around his neck. His head buried into your hair, nosed pressed against your hair, smelling you as well.

"So do you.."

He whispers this in a low hum, eyes closed as he embraces you. You could feel his heart beat slow and relaxed inside his chest. Xavier's soft snores making you chuckle. The fact that this man can sleep standing up still amazes you.

"Sleepy?"

"Hm."

Xavier hums again, as if to say yes, his arms holding you closer to his body. His body leans into yours, the weight of him not fully on you, as if he was stopping himself from falling on top of you. You let out a sigh rolling your eyes. The cuteness of this man was just too much; it made you giggle a bit.

Without a thought or hesitation, your hands go lower till you reached the back of his thighs. Xavier can feel this, but he doesn't back away nor think anything of it. That was until you used all of your strength, bending your knees, and you use this strength to pick up your boyfriend. Xavier eyes widen as he was suddenly up from the ground, your struggling of course but still it was an achievement. Carrying your sleepy boy by his own thighs, before waking back to the bed. Xavier was very shaken from this move, his hands clinging to your shoulders as he blushes heavily.

"[Y-Y/N]...what are you doing?"

You smiled looking up at your flustered boyfriend, "Carrying...ngh my exhausted boyfriend of course~"

It was all you said, and only Xavier could look at you with wide eyes and a simple nod of okay. His tiredness going away as he watched his own girlfriend carry him around, he didn't know how to feel about this, but it wasn't unwelcomed.

It wasn't long till you reached the bed, slamming the boy right on to the soft bed, making him lay on his back. His small towel was already gone, falling onto the floor when you picked him up. His other towel wrapped around his waist, was defiantly loose, clinging onto him for dear life. But still covered his crotch.

Once settled onto the bed, you crawled your way in between his thighs, your hands running along up his thighs to his stomach. Making way to his chest then finally his soft cheeks. You squish his cheeks in your hands, body resting on top of his. You lips lean in to kiss him on the nose before moving to his lips. His hands were now at your waist, rubbing your sides.

"Are you sleepy now?"

You say this pulling away, but it seemed like Xavier was chasing your lips. His cheeks were still flushed with pink, but his shock expression turned into a very sweet playful grin. His hands tracing along your back, slightly teasing underneath your tank top you were wearing.

"Not at the moment no."

You were suddenly rolled over, as Xavier had now turned the tables. His body pinning you underneath him, his baby blue eyes looking down at you with so much mischief. His hand made its way to your cheek, stroking it was such softness as if you were a delicate relic.

"I think I'd like to stay up for a little while, how about you~?"

You chuckle as you pulled Xavier by his neck, His face and lips close you yours.

"Sounds fine by me~"

You whispered back before his lips connected with yours passionately.

════════════════════════════

CALEB

Pranks were nothing but natural for you and Caleb.

Ever since you were kids you two would pull all types of small pranks on each other. Not mean big pranks that would cause problems in one's relationship. But small harmless pranks that make each other laugh and keep the relationship more fun and fresher. To get competitive and try to one-up each other the next month or two.

It was your love language.

And it was your turn.

Oh, how you've been dying to try and get Caleb back. You were still pouting over the last prank he did. You could remember it like it was yesterday. The man had deliberately placed fake cockroaches all underneath your bed comforter. You of course did not realize it. Already freaking out with disgust and fear, running to Caleb about your "unfortunate" situation. Hugging and whimpering to him while you pushed him to the problem. Only for him to laugh and say how those cockroaches were all plastic toys.

You then start to curse him, while beating his chest -soft punches- giving him the biggest mean mug pout. One that he finds absolutely adorable. He makes up for this by promising to take you out to this new big carnival that just opened up around the neighborhood.

Today was the day of the carnival.

And both you and Caleb were getting ready that late afternoon. Hoping to get there early and on time for the rides and games.

You closed the door to your shared room, checking your small purse to make sure you got everything you needed. You're wearing a nice yellow blouse, white tank top underneath with a light jean skirt. It wasn't going to be cold, just a nice warm day.

Once you made it to the spacious room where the living room and kitchen connected. You could see your boyfriend turned to you. His back bent a little as his focus was on his phone, scrolling aimlessly, elbows on the kitchen counter. He was dresses up as well, in a very familiar outfit. His sleeveless white logo shirt, with black jeans pants.

He looked so handsome in the moment. His muscular back and shoulders showing of through the white shirt, His long arms, especially his biceps that flexed a bit on top of the kitchen counter. His hips tutting to the side a bit. You couldn't see his face fully, but you could already imagine how he looked. Eyes narrowed but soft, probably biting his lip as he scrolls through whatever feed he's on, all while he's waiting for you.

It was in that moment...you had an opening.

Slowly, you sneak your way over to Caleb. Making sure your sock covered feet won't make any noise against the tile floors. It seems he doesn't notice you at all.

So, taking you only shot as you make it behind him, you hand raises to aim for his ass. Immediately striking him down against his left cheek harshly, causing the man to gasp loudly. His eyes were wide, but before he could turn around and say anything, your hand that slapped his ass, remained there. Giving his ass couple of good squeezes while your chest was flushed against his back.

"Fuck, you're lookin so hot! Look at this ass!"

"[Y/N]..!"

You didn't give him any time what-so-ever. Turning him around roughly, only to push him back. You could see his very shocked and surprised face now. His cheeks full on flushed with red, a face that made you grip his cheeks with on hand to pull his close to yours. You give him a big fat kiss onto his lips, before pushing him off, making the man look at you dumbfounded.

"Face matches up nicely, not bad at all~"

You tease as your hands rested against his ass, giving his cheeks a squeeze while playing humping his waist. He looks at you so confused, as if you had two heads. There was a moment of pure silence. That was until Caleb begins to grin so big that it could hurt, before a big laugh erupts his whole body.

His chest heaving and rumbling as his hand makes it way to cover his eyes in embarrassment but much amusement as well. He couldn't stop laughing, and it made you laugh as well, your hands coming off his ass to just wrap around his torso. Head leaning against his chest.

"W-What was that pipsqueak!?"

Caleb's hand goes down from his face, looking at you with a big playful smirk gracing his lips. You smirk back with a wink.

"Nothing! Can't I appreciate my boyfriend's hotness?"

Caleb chuckles, leaning in to give your forehead a kiss.

"Never said you couldn't...but with a stunt like that, I say you must be getting even with me huh?"

Before you can retort back, Caleb grabs up by the waist using his strong arms. You gasp as you're now in the air, Caleb turning you to the counter so he can settle you done on the cool marble. Your legs wrapped around his waist, as your arms wrapped around his neck. He held your tightly against him.

"I would congratulate you on that prank of yours, but I would be lying saying that prank won't cost ya. We might be a bit late arriving to the carnival. After that bit, how can I possibly let you go...naughty girl~"

He says this as his head moves to your neck to place feathered kisses along your collarbone. It tickled causing you to giggle, the thought of missing the carnival making you wiggle in his hold whining.

"Caleb, nooo..!"

Yeah, you were definitely going to be late.

════════════════════════════

SYLUS

Catching Sylus off guard, can be a very difficult task at hand.

It seemed like no matter what, he always knew what move you were going to make. Calculating each future ten step you would say or do just so he can throw it right back in your face. And it definitely frustrated you.

A fierce man who was hard to take down.

In fact, he was the one catching you off guard. He was the one surprising you the most and getting you all flustered in the cheeks with his devious nonchalant attitude. It's a rare and very rare moment when Sylus was ever caught being flustered. And even in those rare occasions, he can easily and quickly hide it inside, composing himself as if it didn't phase him at all. As if he had already predicted your tricks, before you can ever see his reactions.

And so, you were on a mission.

A mission to complete subdue and fluster your Onychinus leader boyfriend. It took you half a month to come up with any idea. A good top idea to catch this man way off guard, just so you can win. You just wanted win over him, even if it's just one time. To get him stuttering over his words. And finally, you came up with an idea, a brilliant idea, one where you hoped and prayed that it will very much work.

You texted Sylus on how you'll meet him tonight at his place. He of course welcomed this arrival, his home literally opened to only you at any time of the day. You made your way, rushing to the N109 zone to Sylus's grand mansion. Preparing yourself for what was about to happen.

Once there, you greeted both Luke and Kieran who both welcomed you back. Wondering what the rush was, but you could only give them both a question back asking where Sylus was.

"Boss is-"

"-In his office." They both said.

Perfect!

Working out exactly how you wanted.

"Thank you, see ya later!"

They watched as you rushed down the hallway with a very confused but interested look, wondering what you were planning.

Sylus was in his office, just finishing up closing a deal via phone call. He sighed as he leaned against his chair running a hand through his own locks, looking around the room with his ruby red eyes. Mephisto was in his office - more luck for you -, and Sylus was thinking about you. Waiting for you to come to him.

He then hears a knock at the door making his lips curl into a smile. He can tell from just the knock alone that it was you.

"Come on in kitten."

Nothing.

The door didn't open, nor was there any sound before or after that came with it. His brow quirks at this peculiar moment.

"Kitten, I said you can come in."

He says this a bit louder, but again no answer, or door opening. And he was already confused from the start, because normally you'd just barge right in with that innocent smile of yours. But you didn't even do that. So, know Sylus was on edge but gratefully intrigued by what was going on. Wondering what you were planning behind that door.

He gets up from his chair, walking towards the lavish design door. Once he made it and he opens the door, he gets suddenly pulled by the collar of his shirt. His body leaning and his lips quickly connecting to yours. His eyes looked at you, wide and in disbelief but it wasn't over yet.

Using a tackling move on him, you swiftly used your leg to grapple behind his left leg. You used you full weight so that he would fall to the ground with a harsh thud. Your lips still on him as your hands moved to grab his own wrists and pin the above his head so that he wouldn't go anywhere. You were now straddling his waist, kissing him roughly before pulling back to only bite his cheek.

The man gasps as he was still to stunned to speak. He could only watch as you aggressively manhandle him. Your bites moved to his neck which caused Sylus to grunt lowly. His cheeks and ears red, still so confused. His brain trying to regain any semblance of reasoning but failing terribly so.

Once you pulled away to look at him, a big smile came to your lips as you looked at Sylus. His expression was priceless, funny, cute even as he looked up at you. You can finally say you've taken down Sylus.

Sylus clears his throat, lips curling into a smirk, shaking his head from your actions.

"Is...this some type of new fighting strategy of yours? If so, I'm not so keen for you to use it on other people."

You laughed.

"Nope, I just wanted to tackle you into submission. And I finally got you!"

You hear a big rich laugh come from Sylus. The pitch a bit heightened as he found this incredibly silly and adorable. He could just maneuver his way out of your hold easily or even use his evol to overpower you. But he doesn't, liking the proud face you made of finally overpowering him. Using your smart skills to gain the upper hand of the situation. It made his heart jump inside his chest happily.

"You know, if you wanted to over-power me, you could have just asked~"

"That's a load of bull and you know it! As if you'd gone easy on me if I did asked!"

Sylus laughs again, making you roll your eyes at him. But your body suddenly sits up right, as Sylus uses his strength to break from your pinned hands. He traps your arms behind your back with his one strong hand, his other hand gripping your chin gently, thumb rubbing the bottom of your lip. His eyes shooting down to your eyes, with his infamous smirk that made your stomach flip.

"You're right kitten. It's more fun to tease and let you work for your food, then to let you have it easy. But don't worry, I'll be gladly waiting for the next time you try to catch me off gaurd~"

════════════════════════════

RAFAYEL

You and Rafayel decided why not work out together.

Well, more like you were going to work out and train your body. But a certain purple-haired artistic man called before you could even go to your local gym. Of course, you picked up your phone hearing him complain about he was bored. You told him how you were going to the gym, and Raf found that as the perfect moment to come along with your endeavors.

He suggested going to his private gym he uses at home. He says he's been wanting to blow off some steam due to Thomas insisting -more like pestering to Rafayel - to create more art for his gallery. The deadline was almost due and Rafayel has been procrastinating with other projects. Telling Thomas there is no deadline to when it comes to art, he'll feel the inspiration when he feels it. And so here he is with you.

This is honestly a first for you.

Working out with him that is.

Watching that beautiful man stretching his own body with much ease as you both did warm-ups. Seeing his biceps and forearms flex as he does push-ups. The way his abdomen tenses when he did crunches. Or how he looked so pretty on the treadmill, running full laps. Hair bouncing, sweat dripping, muscles moving, ass tempting. Even when he took a few walk breaks you could hear his controlled breathing and pants.

He looked so pretty in those moments, truly you were captured by this handsome siren. God, you felt so lucky in that moment, you could watch him run all day long. So much so that you had completely lost track of time, your mind on auto pilot throughout your whole workout session.

The both of you were panting, sweat dripping down your foreheads, Body sore but refreshed in a way all in a day's good work-out. Rafayel sighs sweeping a hand through his front locks with a relieved sigh escaping his mouth.

"I'm exhausted, I don't know who's working me to death, you or Thomas~"

Rafayel grins while joking making you roll your eyes with a small laugh.

He goes into a corner of the gym. There was L-shaped counter with a sink. A mini refrigerator that was set up top, And a round circular table in the middle. Rafayel immediately went to the fringe to grab a bottle of water. Leaning against the table he unscrews the cap taking a few gulps of cool water down his throat.

You do the same, following your boyfriend, but your eyes were only trained on Rafayel. His left arm, behind him, hand placed upon the white table to stabilize himself. His back a bit arched, showing the indent of his pecks and abs through his black sleeveless tight compressed shirt. His waist looking so snatchable as his legs slightly crossed over one another.

Drinking the cool water did nothing to ease the burning tension inside of you.

Rafayel places his water down on the table, his hand reaching out to his shoulders to rub them a little. All while he rambled on and on about his problems, Thomas nagging, and blah blah blah.

That was it you can't take it anymore.

"I swear, I bet Thomas is calling my phone about no-"

Quickly you made your move on Rafayel. You grab at his thighs tightly making him blush and shut up. But then you start to lift him up, causing the man before you to gasp and wiggle in your hands.

"[Y/N]! Aah w-wait!"

You didn't listen to his gasps and pleas, as you use your full strength to pick him up and place his ass on top of the table. His legs wide and spread for you, almost wrapped around your waist. His water bottle accidently falling, spilling onto parts the table and floor. You kept a good tight hold onto him, giving his thighs a good squeeze,

Your lips meet his to kiss him briefly, a tease at the most. Before moving to his cheeks and nose, even his exposed neck.

Rafayel's hands were on your shoulders, not knowing whether to push you off of hold you close to him. His face was redder than a tomato, ears included, as he watches his own girlfriend assault him like this.

You then pull away with mischievous smirk on your face, all you could see was Rafayel with that sweet brattish pout pursing his plump lips. He looks at you, eyes narrowed but it was soft. Rafayel gives you a look of incredible disbelief and shock from what just happened.

"I-I can't believe, did you just..?!"

You laugh at him, causing his cheeks to flush even more. His eyes looking away from your gleeful face. It was adorable to witness it. Seeing him in this type of position. Your hands moved, sliding up to his ass, you can feel him tensing up, his breath getting heavy as though he was working out again. You gave him gentle pats at first, but them with your right hand gave him a hard smack placed upon his cheek.

Rafayel lets out a gasp mixed with a whine, his eyebrows furrowed in a glare. Looking at you with such a appalled face. He was truly was embarrassed.

"H-Hey watch it!"

"What, are you embarrassed baby~?"

Rafayel says nothing, the nickname only making him groan, letting out a long dramatic sigh. His eyes once again still darted away from your owns.

"This must what it feels like to be a woman, being preyed upon by others. I'm all defenseless here, it's scary thing. My own bodyguard taking advantage of me, in my own gym."

"It's not my fault my boyfriend is so beautiful. You really are, looking so pretty while you worked out today."

Rafael didn't really say anything, but you can he was trying not to let your words get to you. But it was failing, as your compliments only made his heart race even more. Fidgeting while you held on tight to him trying to distract himself with the gym appliances around the room.

"Sooo...you're saying you don't like it?"

You give him another kiss on the cheek playfully, making him turn his head finally towards you. His legs bringing you even closer, wrapping fully around your waist to lock you in. While his hands wrapped around your shoulders. It made you giggle, his actions way louder than his actual words.

"I never said that."

You smile as he can't help but smile back at you. He couldn't prolong his pout anymore, he's just too damn infatuated - and slightly aroused - at this new position of his. He leans in to kiss you on the lips, the kiss starting off as sweet before slowly turning deep and passionate. His eyes haze over with a growing smirk of his own.

"I'm definitely not going be able to finish my art piece now cutie~"

════════════════════════════

[rottingghosty]

The Hunt of Joker | DC X DP

ERRORS WILL BE MADE BECAUSE I’M AN OVERWORKED PERSON

“What?” The Ghost King of the Infinite Realms hissed out in rage.

Danny stared down at where his Spymaster, a liminal who willingly stood up to take on the title to keep an eye on the human realm for him— was kneeling still as they waited for Danny to process their report. The silent in the throne room was deafening and yet his Spymaster— Lucero Castillo continued on to stay defiantly at him to showcase the seriousness of the situation.

“He’s called the Joker, he’s killed and caused more harm than I’ve realized. The person tasked at keeping an eye on him had failed and the man got away from landing in the realms for his trial longer than I’d like to admit.” Lucero said with a bitter tone, their anger obvious in the moment. Danny could understand, seeing the countless ghosts who landed in the realms because of the Joker grew.

Knowing that the Joker managed to defy death and kept inflicting it? It made Danny’s blood boil as he remembered the death of one of Lady Gotham’s Knights, the boy was young— so young that Danny wept to himself in the shelter of his own keep because that was a young boy who despite everything still tried to save his own mother. Danny felt like he was looking to a mirror every time he saw the Robin, purely because they were both teenagers— kids who had died. It was a limited time that Danny spent with Robin- Jason but enough that Danny missed him when the boy disappeared.

“You’ve kept tabs?” Danny rumbled out, his words echoing with authority that caused the ghosts in the throne room to straighten and Lucero to give a grin, their fangs glinting in the light of the ghost flames that lit up the room.

“Once I realized, I made sure to keep tabs on the clown. I figured it’d be a good premise for a hunt.”

A hunt… Lucero wasn’t wrong. A hunt would be good, it’d allow those who had been harmed by him. The ghosts will enjoy the thrill of hunting down their own killer, he’s sure Gotham’s shades and lingering ghosts would enjoy it as well. Lucero would keep an eye on the hunt, put a stop to any ghosts who stepped out of line and protect any humans.

Danny’s fingers drummed against the arm rest of his throne, the crown above his head flickering wildly as he thought it over.

“I approve of this hunt, it’s been too long.” Danny said as he gave a crooked smile before gesturing to Pandora who immediately began to speak the hunt in existence with another ghost besides her writing it down so a missive would appear before every victim of Joker that had died and lives in the realms.

“Under the orders of High King, the Hunt of the human named Joker the Maddened False Clown, the man who has denied our Mother’s embrace and who has cruelly ended lives of others before their ended time. The Spymaster has been deemed the Watcher of this Hunt and those who had been harmed by him may indulge in the hunt. The hunt will begin in a week’s time.”

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Jason felt that something in Gotham was different, the air felt charged in a way he never felt even before his death. He was more in tune with Gotham than any other person, he knew Gotham at its core just as she knew him at his very being. It’s why he claimed Crime Alley as his when he had come back, why he dug his roots and kept digging them even if people tugged him and tried to make him change his tune about the Alley.

They didn’t understand.

Nobody understood the fact that Crime Alley is the very heart of Gotham, how she thrives on its very essence and how even at her weakest she relies on it to protect the rest of Gotham. The City Spirit loomed over him from the shadows, her hands placed on his shoulders to keep ahold of and giving a motherly croon whenever the Bats came into his haunt.

The leylines that Gotham lived on seemed to beat along as the excited trills and chirps of various ghosts were heard as he walked through the Alley, they sounded like a murder of crows in the death infested city. Shadows and blurs of greens and blues darted around, seeking. Hunting.

A soft croon from shade caught Jason’s attention, watching it peer shyly up at him with a wide childlike gaze. The shade was in an alleyway, one that Jason knew the kids around used to run after stealing some food that he knew Mrs. Jimenez purposely put on her windowsill for to take. He debated on ignoring it, wanting to head home because his skin felt too tonight, his pulse thundering in ways even adrenaline rush never could.

The shadows beckoned. Jason followed.

“Do you guys feel that?” Steph asked at family dinner of the month, her eyes darting around to catalogue the Bats reactions. Everyone looked on edgy, as if a single pin needle could drop and it’d shatter every peaceful pretense they had. Jason however looked at ease, as if he didn’t feel like he was a prey at the moment.

“Yeah, it’s made a lot of things brighter. I had to be careful during patrol because I’d start getting migraines from the lights.” Duke said as he poked his fork into his pasta, eyes hidden behind sunglasses that he wore to prevent his lingering headache from flaring into something worse.

“Oh it’s probably cause of the Hunt.”

A silence occurred before chaos erupted.

☁️☁️☁️☁️

NOTE: I am a firm believer that while Jason doesn’t remember anything from during his time dead, he knows ghost culture because its ingrained into his very being and has been aware of all the shades/ghosts of crime alley because its his haunt and he is protective of them as he is of humans. He’s basically Lady Gotham’s disgruntled feral cat and she’s basically throwing him at the shades as exposure therapy to the ✨other side ✨

also Jason casually dropping the fact of the Hunt is so funny cause he’s just reading a book while eating. Like hahaha yeah it’s cause of the Hunt :) we all had died or had brushed with death enough that we feel the excitement of the dead ! Jason is also very much unaware that the hunt is AIMED at Joker and pretty much. has a dead joker dropped at his feet by excited kiddo shades because !!! PRESENT FOR PAPA !!! before it gets yoinked into the infinite realms by Lucero.

morally grey danny because he is balance !! HE IS A KING !! he has the right to choose who dies !!! tbis was done at 2am again and scheduled to post at 7am

[rqnarok]

summary: dark!old man!logan would do anything for the sake of you going back into his arms. 

cws/tags: smut, mdni! old man!logan. obsessive behavior. fem!reader. logan calls himself ‘old man’. pet names. unspecified age gap. unstable power dynamic. crying. soft dom!logan. sub!reader. not proofread. 

You’re not sure if you can even call him your ‘ex.’ 

The both of you never had the ‘talk’, and never did have any middle ground stating what kind of relationship this is. 

Logan’s way older than you - way more mature - “Need t’be fucked by a real man, ‘s that it, baby?” way more experienced. 

No matter how heated the night before, Logan still turns everything cold with his aloofness - and you - you never feel brave enough to speak up against it. 

With a heavy heart and numerous self-loathing sessions, you concluded that it was time to let him go - convincing yourself you deserve someone more. Someone you’d be comfortable with to ask for something more. 

And you did, well, that’s what you tell yourself as you busied yourself with everything else. Withdrawing from him little by little, texting him things such as  ‘Can’t meet you today, sorry’ or ‘Something else came up..’ to avoid ending up on his sheets.

Logan’s not stupid. He may be old, a fucking hundred years old something but he’s not dumb. He knows what you’re doing. 

Reading the texts you sent him, he’d grumble curse words under his breaths before tugging off his glasses in a harsh movement. 

He just didn’t think you’d last so long dodging him. Logan expected you to give up on the first day of the second week—he was wrong because it’s been a month, damnit.

Sometime during the unlabeled relationship that went on for almost a year already, you put Logan’s number on the list as your ‘alternative’ contact, making people ring his number when yours is not answering.

And Logan always answers your phone calls. He’d justify himself that it’s merely a habit that he’s still trying to break, but truthfully it’s to make sure you’re hanging out with the ‘right people.’ 

Logan fucking hates it when he’s hearing a guy’s voice on the other line—toughens himself to respond, lowering his voice and curting his answers. He’ll let them know you’re busy. 

In the second month, you run back into Logan in desperation. 

Your eyes are all puffy from crying because your last date was such a prick! He called you nasty-horrible-sickening names before erasing your number off his phone for no reason. 

Logan opens his arms to welcome your hiccuping figure standing before him. Shushing you down and rubbing circles on your back - telling you to tell him who hurted you. 

This dependency you hold on him makes his cock twitch. That he’s right: you still seek him out no matter how long it takes. 

You don’t even notice how bad it gets—that’s the best thing. You never learn, huh?

That’s alright - because he’ll try for real this time. Groans out praises after praises to you, “What’s that, baby? Y’feel good?” Logan jeers overhead, holding himself over you with his hand gripping onto the headboard, “Too good?” He chuckles as his other hand thumbs on your puffy button.

His rough fingers pad up your clit, sending electricity throughout your body. Making you writhe underneath him and Logan scolds you in the softest way he can, “Stay still f’me, will ya?” 

You can’t answer. You can’t even speak outside of high-pitched whines, a mess of your own saliva drips until it reaches your chin. Your whole body is finally sticky after it’s been cold for weeks. His fat cock driving onto his home over and over, better than anything you’ve ever felt before.

“Yeah, y’just need your old man, hm? No one else can t‘care of this pussy like I do, sweetheart.”

He maliciously slows down his movement to watch his length entering your wet folds, humming at the vulgar squelching sound, “Come take a look a’her, baby. She’s squeezing me in - misses me so much.” 

The sight of him is trouble, messy greying hair and beard; chest full of scars. Everything you should’ve stayed away from.

”Yeayeahyea- Missed you so m-much. Ah-” 

But you cannot think when he’s holding you like this - when he angles himself so his tip is continuously hitting against that spongy spot inside you that makes your body weak. 

A string of ah ah ahs are leaving your mouth as he growls next to your face. “‘M cumming —”

His head falls back as he feels how your dripping pussy milks him dry, instantly following after as he buries himself deeper to make sure none of his cum drips out, “F-fuck. Good fuckin’ girl.” 

When he’s finished, Logan falls atop you in tiredness before rolling himself slightly to the side so he doesn’t suffocate you with his weight. Pampering your tear-flushed cheeks with slow kisses - the feel of his beard burning onto your skin like a streak of fire.

“C’meback, sweet girl.” He whispers in a quiet voice, hoping you’d give in completely. 

And you do - you always do.

Moments later, he’d have you resting on his chest, fingers combing through your hair to calm you down from the noises inside your head.

You don’t have to know that he was the one who drove your date away. 

It’s a mistake that the boy called Logan’s number because he was so impatient to hear back from you. A goddamn mistake. 

Because of that, Logan became aware of his existence and tracks him down. Threatens the other guy to stay the fuck away from you. 

Poor guy almost pissed his pants in fright. Running away scared shitless after Logan let go of his collar. 

Logan doesn’t know when exactly he turned into this wild animal. A sick old fuck who’d do anything to keep you in his embrace. 

Why does it matter? Everything is in its right place now. He’ll make sure you’d never have to know about the things he’d do for you.

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae I love your Spencer and intern reader fics they’re my sweet babes and I keep rereading them <3 would you consider writing something where Spencer defends her work and efforts in front of someone in the BAU or an officer/someone else they’re working with like maybe after they speak down to her? ilyilyily

They're my sweet babes too <3 Thanks for requesting angel!

cw: mention of bombing (no death)

Spencer Reid x intern!reader ♡ 1k words

“No. Find me someone else.” 

The voice reaches Spencer from the next room, raised and prickly. He pauses in sorting through crime scene photos to listen. 

Your reply is quieter, difficult to make out. 

“I’m not giving my testimony to an intern!” 

“This isn’t a testimony, sir,” you reply calmly. Spencer can hear it now, because somehow his feet have carried him towards you. He doesn’t stop once he realizes, continuing towards the doorway and the sound of your voice. “We’re not in court, and this isn’t a formal statement. I’m only asking you to tell me about what you saw.” 

“Yeah, and I saw some important shit. Go and get me someone qualified to talk to.” 

“Of course what you saw was important. This interview is to determine—” 

“I don’t give a rat’s ass what you think is important. You don’t know what you’re doing!” 

“Excuse me,” Spencer says, coming up to a stop beside you. “Hi. Is there a problem?” 

You turn to Spencer with a look of relief, and as one, the rest of the onlookers in the packed police station lobby look away, resuming pretending to mind their own business. 

This morning, a bomb went off outside the Department of Commerce offices. Because the incident took place in D.C., the BAU was able to get to the site quicker than most cases, and whereas arriving at a fresh scene is generally a good thing, it has its drawbacks. One being that the dozens of witnesses didn’t have statements taken before Spencer’s team arrived. 

All those witnesses are crammed into one room now, and with the police station in chaos and most of the FBI rushing to figure out if they can expect another attack, the task of questioning has fallen to you and a few other officers. You’re mostly trying to shrink the pool. In the aftermath of an attack like this, many witnesses have a tendency to conjure images. Sometimes, the brain processes trauma by recollecting things that didn’t truly happen; sometimes, people recount things that they think will get them on the evening news. As you go down the line, you’re making note of witnesses who seem to have plausible, relevant information, and those are the ones being brought in for cognitives by the rest of the team.

Evidently, you’re getting some resistance. 

“Yeah,” says the man you’re talking to. He’s broad and in an ill-fitting suit that makes Spencer think he likes to appear more important than he is. “I want to give my testimony to someone with a badge.” 

“As she explained, it’s not a testimony,” Spencer says evenly. “Do you have a badge?” 

The man’s eyebrows draw together. “No,” he says, an invisible question mark at the end. 

“Then what do you think makes you qualified to determine who gives interviews?” 

The man makes a sound like he’s choking. Before he can speak, Spencer continues, just loud enough for the rest of the eavesdropping room to hear. 

“Miss L/N is an intern with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. She has studied this case and many others before it as thoroughly as anyone else on our team, and she is more than qualified to take your statement. Excuse us a moment, please.” 

You turn gladly into Spencer’s hand on your shoulder, allowing him to guide you from the room. Your posture slumps as soon as you’re out of sight. You’ve been keeping up a collected and professional facade, but you have to be tired after talking to witnesses all morning. Spencer passes you a water bottle as you sit down at the desk he’s been using. The way you gulp from it lends credence to his theory. 

“Your throat must be sore,” he says. 

You shrug, reluctant as always to complain. “There’s more talking in interviews than I would have expected,” you admit. “I thought it’d be all listening.” 

“Yeah, sometimes witnesses need some prompting. You’re doing great, though. Have there been many like that?” 

You swallow and let out a tired breath. “Not many. It’s, you know, lots of bureaucrats.” Your tone takes on a tinge of irreverence. A smile tugs at Spencer’s lips. Sometimes, it feels like you’re still brand new, but others your time with the FBI is obvious; bureaucracy is almost a dirty word in the bureau. “They all think they’re the most important person there. But really, it hasn’t been so bad. You saw the worst of it.” 

“Yeah.” Spencer studies you, taking in the terse set of your brows, the defeated line of your mouth. “That guy was pretty pugnacious.” 

Your eyes flicker up to Spencer’s, lips twitching at something he doesn’t understand. He understands that he’d like to make it happen again. 

“He was,” you agree. “He didn’t ask you for your credentials.” 

There’s a tinge of bitterness to your tone that Spencer doesn’t think you mean to reveal. He wouldn’t begrudge you it. He noticed the same thing. 

“Sometimes, JJ and Emily have a harder time with witnesses, too,” he tells you. “If it makes you feel any better, it probably doesn’t have anything to do with you not being an agent.” 

“No, it’s only something that will follow me through my career even after I do get credentials.” Your tone is wry, but there’s a little smile on your lips. And, Spencer can’t help but note, it’s the first time he’s heard you talk about your future with the BAU with such certainty. 

Still, he doesn’t know what to say to that. There are no easy placations or reassurances, at least none that would be true. So Spencer chooses silence, and as usual you let him. Your eyes criss-cross over his face like you’re doing more than studying. Like you’re practicing reading him the way he reads you, but something more than that too. It’s exhilarating to remember that there are things about you Spencer still doesn’t have figured out. 

After a minute, you say, “I should get back in there.” 

Spencer nods, begrudging. “Do you still want to interview that last one? I can take him, if you want.” 

“No, thanks.” You stand and toss the water bottle into the recycling, smiling with renewed vigor. “I’d rather make him sit through it.” 

Spencer can’t help but return your smile as you turn to go.

[gweelczz]

“Home”

Sammie ‘Preacher boy’ Moore x Y/N (Sugar)

Genre: Angst, Fluff, smut (Y’all KNOW he a FREAK) MDNI

Warnings: unprotected sex (wrap your Willy!) mentions of child abuse, this fic is LONGGGG I got a bit carried away y’all I’m sorry!!!

Summary: A lover’s quarrel breaks out between the two love birds and it’s up to Sammie to choose what he goin do

The Mississippi sun had dipped low, bleeding red across the fields when the shouting started. Folks in Clarksdale knew better than to pay too much mind to lovers’ quarrels, but when it was Preacher Boy Sammie Moore and his girl Sugar — everybody knew.

“You always talking ’bout dreams, Sammie,” Sugar snapped, arms crossed tight against her chest, her voice trembling more with hurt than anger. “But you too scared to chase ‘em. Scared of your daddy. Scared of what folks gon’ say.”

Sammie’s fists were balled at his sides. Not to strike — Lord, no. Just trying to hold it all in. His pride. His shame. His fear.

“I ain’t scared,” he bit out, jaw tight.

“Then prove it,” she shot back, tears glassing her big brown eyes. Her skin, a rich dark ebony with that gold shimmer whenever the light caught her just right, looked like it belonged to some goddess out the old stories. Her coily hair framed her face, a wild crown she didn’t even know she wore.

He said nothing.

That silence — heavier than any slap — broke her heart clean in two.

Sugar turned on her heel, dust kicking up under her bare feet.

“You ain’t ready,” she said, voice small now. “And I ain’t waitin’ ‘round watchin’ you let yourself rot.”

He watched her walk away. Watched until the blue of her skirt disappeared down the road toward the woods where Annie’s shack sat hidden behind a crooked fence of bones and bottle trees.

——

Annie’s place smelled of sweetgrass and turpentine, smoke curling out the chimney like lazy fingers. Inside, herbs hung in bunches from the rafters. Jars of oil, roots, and stones lined the shelves. Every color and spirit of the Delta lived in that little shack.

Sugar slumped into a chair, head in her hands.

Annie — full-figured, dark-skinned, with a warmth about her like a heavy quilt — sat across from her, shelling peas slow and easy. She was only a few years older than Sugar, but the way she moved, the way she looked at you, made her seem like she’d lived two lifetimes already.

She watched Sugar for a long minute, not rushing her.

“Man’s got chains on his soul,” Annie finally said, voice low and knowing. “Ain’t easy breakin’ ’em. ’Specially when them chains was put there by his own blood.”

“I just…” Sugar started, but her throat caught. She shook her head. “I just want him to see what he could be. Not what folks tell him he gotta be.”

Annie smiled, soft and sure.

“Don’t give up on him, girl. Some seeds take longer to sprout. But when they do, Lord, do they grow strong.”

Outside, the night thickened. Crickets sang. Somewhere, a hound barked long and low.

And then — a knock at the door.

Sugar turned, heart thudding.

There he was. Sammie.

Hat crushed in one hand. A scraggly bunch of wildflowers in the other. Dirt smudged on his knees from where he’d fallen once, maybe twice, on the way over.

He looked at her like a man standing at the edge of a cliff. Like he knew the fall would kill him but he was ready to jump anyway.

“I cain’t do this without you, Sugar,” he said, voice raw. He dropped the flowers, sank to his knees right there on Annie’s worn floorboards.

“You hear me?” he begged, hands trembling. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for bein’ a fool. I’m sorry for not fightin’ harder. I’m gon’ be better. I swear it on my life.”

Sugar’s chest squeezed so tight she thought she might fall over.

Annie sat still, shelling peas, not saying a word. She knew some things had to be worked out without her hand in it.

Sammie looked up at Sugar, eyes wide and wet, heart cracked open for the whole world to see.

“You my home, Sugar,” he whispered. “Ain’t no point in dreamin’ if you ain’t in it.”

The flowers were crushed. His hands were dirty. His voice was breaking.

But it was real.

God help her, it was real.

Sugar knelt too, lifting his face in her hands.

“Don’t you ever make me walk away again,” she said, voice shaking.

“I won’t,” he promised. “I swear it.”

And in that little shack, under the watchful eyes of the ancestors hanging thick in the smoky air, Sugar forgave him.

——

Sammie led her back to his daddy’s house, hand in hand, heads bowed against the heavy southern night. He didn’t care if his father was sitting on the porch with a belt or a bottle.

This time, he wasn’t walking alone.

And this time, he wasn’t running from himself either.

The porch light was nothing but a flickering bulb, casting long, mean shadows across the yard. Sammie slowed his steps when they reached the gate, hand tightening around Sugar’s.

There he was — Preacher Moore — sitting in his rocking chair, a half-drained bottle of corn liquor at his feet, the old hunting belt looped lazy across his lap like a coiled snake. His face, carved rough like old wood, didn’t flinch when he saw them coming.

Sammie’s throat dried up. Every memory of every beating, every harsh word, every dream stomped down under his father’s heavy hand — it all came rushing back like a flood.

Sugar gave his hand a squeeze.

“You got this, baby,” she whispered.

Sammie swallowed hard and stepped forward.

The porch boards groaned under his weight, but he didn’t falter.

Preacher Moore watched him, slow drag on his cigarette, eyes hard as river stones.

“You finally decide to come back with your tail tucked?” he rasped.

Sammie stood straight. For the first time, he didn’t look away.

“I come back a man,” he said, voice steady. “And I ain’t askin’ your permission no more.”

The cigarette paused halfway to Preacher Moore’s mouth. A dangerous flicker lit in his eyes.

“You gettin’ mighty bold for a boy livin’ under my roof,” Preacher Moore growled.

“I ain’t just livin’ under your roof,” Sammie said, taking another step closer. “I’m buildin’ somethin’. And if you can’t see that, then maybe I need to build it somewhere else.”

Sugar stayed right behind him, her presence a warmth at his back, a shield he hadn’t even known he needed.

“I wanna sing,” Sammie said, the words dragging out of him rough and painful like pulling a thorn from flesh. “Not just in church. Not just in secret. I wanna sing the blues. I wanna write my own songs. Play my own music. And I ain’t gonna be ashamed no more.”

The porch went still. The crickets even seemed to hush.

Preacher Moore’s face cracked — not much — but enough for Sammie to see something raw underneath. A flash of fear. A flash of sorrow.

“You think singin’ them devil songs gonna feed you? Gonna save you?” Preacher Moore spat.

Sammie shook his head.

“No, sir,” he said. “I think bein’ me gon’ save me.”

He reached back, took Sugar’s hand in his again.

“I got folks standin’ with me now. Folks who believe I ain’t just some broken piece of you.”

Preacher Moore set the cigarette down. The belt slid off his lap and onto the porch with a soft thud.

For a long time, he said nothing. Just rocked. Just stared.

And then, like a levee finally giving way after too many rains, the fight drained out of him. His shoulders sagged. His chin dipped. His pride — that big, ugly thing that had ruled the Moore house for two generations — cracked and crumbled like old clay.

Preacher Moore dragged a hand down his face, voice rough with something like regret.

“You your own man now,” he muttered. “Ain’t nothin’ I can do to change that.”

Sammie felt the breath he didn’t know he was holding rush out of him.

“You sure that’s what you want, boy?” Preacher Moore asked, almost gentle now.

“I’m sure,” Sammie said. “Been sure.”

Preacher Moore nodded once, stiff and slow.

“Then go on,” he said. “Go sing your songs.”

It wasn’t an apology. It wasn’t forgiveness. But it was enough. Enough for tonight.

Sammie turned to Sugar, who was smiling through tears, her thumb rubbing circles on the back of his hand.

Together, they stepped off that porch — not as preacher boy and dreamer girl — but as something new. Something stronger.

The night wrapped around them as they walked into a future that, for the first time, was theirs to claim.

———

The road to Sugar’s house twisted through cotton fields and thick woods, the night air humming with the slow, secret music of the Delta. Sammie held Sugar’s hand tight as they walked, his heart still hammering from what he’d left behind on that porch.

Preacher Moore’s voice still echoed in his ears, but it was faint now, like a storm rumbling far off. What mattered was the hand in his, the steady light ahead — the little house Sugar’s granddaddy had left her when he passed.

The place wasn’t much to look at to anybody else. A two-room clapboard house, porch sagging a little, white paint peeling like old bark. But to Sammie, it looked like freedom. Looked like home.

Sugar fished the key from her pocket and unlocked the door. She didn’t say much, just pulled him inside by the hand. The house smelled like lavender and fresh bread, warm and good.

Sammie had only been here a handful of times, always with the nervous, guilty feeling of a boy sneaking into someplace he didn’t belong. But tonight was different. Tonight, she opened the door wide and left it open behind him, like she meant for him to stay.

“Granddaddy wanted me to have it,” Sugar said, setting her purse down. “Said a woman needs her own land to stand on.”

Sammie nodded, drinking it all in — the soft quilt folded on the couch, the little wooden cross nailed above the door, the framed picture of Sugar’s granddaddy smiling wide in his Sunday suit.

“You know,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at him, “I got my own shop now too. Folks come from all over for my oils and teas. I do good.”

He smiled, proud in a way he didn’t know how to say out loud.

“I know you do,” he said. “Ain’t nobody like you, Sugar.”

She laughed, light and low.

“One day,” Sammie said, voice almost breaking with the bigness of it, “I wanna be able to take care of you too. Not ’cause you need it. But ’cause you deserve it.”

Sugar crossed the room in two quick steps and pressed her forehead to his.

“You already do,” she whispered.

They stood there a long moment, breathing each other in, letting the world fall away.

Sammie knew he didn’t have much. A voice. A few songs still trapped inside him, scratching to get out. A heart bigger than he knew what to do with.

But somehow, standing there in the warm light of Sugar’s house, it felt like enough.

Tomorrow, there would be work to do. Songs to write. Battles to fight. Maybe even more nights spent arguing with ghosts and memories.

But tonight — tonight he had her.

Tonight they had a roof, four walls, and a world of dreams between them.

And sometimes, Sammie thought, that was more than enough to start a whole life on.

The hum of cicadas mixed with the soft shuffle of feet on the old wooden floors of Sugar’s house, and Sammie, still buzzin’ from the confrontation with his father, felt the weight of it all.

Sugar’s house was quiet now, the air in the room feelin’ as heavy as the memories. The house was sturdy and worn, like time had kissed it just right. A little faded around the edges, but still standin’, just like her. Just like him.

Sammie’s fingers trembled as he rubbed the back of his neck, still feelin’ the heat from his father’s words mixed with the pride he hadn’t known he could hold. But Sugar… she was the one who’d always seen it in him, even when he’d been too blind to see it himself.

She sat beside him, her body close but not touchin’, her presence like a balm for all his frayed nerves. He could feel the heat of her, the warmth of her gaze that was so full of pride, so full of somethin’ deeper that he couldn’t quite put into words.

“You did it, Sammie,” she said, her voice soft but steady like a slow river. “I’m so proud of you, baby. I always knew you had it in you.”

He let out a breath, a small chuckle escaping his lips. “I ain’t never thought I’d be here, Sugar. Never thought I’d be standin’ up to him like that. Didn’t think I had the strength to fight for what I wanted. Hell, didn’t think I deserved it.”

Sugar’s eyes softened, her lips parting like she was about to speak but then she just shook her head. Her hand reached out, like it always did when he needed it most, and she placed it over his.

“You deserve every bit of it, Sammie,” she said, her voice full of that calm confidence that always made him feel like maybe he wasn’t so lost after all. “And you’ve got so much more in you than you even know.”

His chest tightened, and he didn’t know if it was from the weight of her words or the way she made him feel like a man again. A real one, with dreams and a purpose. And as she looked at him, that proud smile on her face, Sammie couldn’t help but feel a pull deep in his gut. She always did that to him — made him feel seen in a way no one else ever had.

“Sugar…” he breathed, his voice a little rough. “You’ve always seen me. Always been the only one who believed in me when I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror.”

Sugar moved closer, her body just inches from his, and he could feel the heat of her against his arm. Her touch was like a spark, and Sammie swore his heart skipped a beat. She was always so sure, so confident in everything she did. But tonight, he saw something else in her eyes — something softer. Something real.

“I ain’t never stopped believin’ in you, Sammie. You’ve got this, baby. You always had it in you.”

Her words were like a lullaby, and as they lingered in the air between them, Sammie couldn��t help but draw her in closer. He wrapped his arms around her, pullin’ her to him, like it was the most natural thing in the world. He held her tight, his chest full of so many emotions he couldn’t even name.

The softness of her body against his made his breath hitch. Sugar felt like home. Like everything that had ever mattered. Her scent filled his senses, and he buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply.

“You make me feel like I can take on the world, Sugar,” he murmured, his voice low, rough with the weight of what he was feelin’. “Like I ain’t never been broken, like I’m whole again. I ain’t never been able to thank you for that.”

Sugar’s hand slid up his back, her fingers light against his skin, and she pulled back just enough to look up at him. Her eyes were dark with emotion, and the softness in her gaze made Sammie’s heart ache.

“You don’t have to thank me, Sammie,” she said, her voice a whisper now, like the words were only meant for him. “I’ve always been here for you. Always will be.”

Sammie’s chest tightened again, and this time, he didn’t fight the urge to kiss her. His lips brushed hers, soft at first, like he was askin’ for permission. But when she didn’t pull away, when she leaned into him, it felt like a release. He kissed her deeper, the tension in his chest unwinding as he pulled her closer, feeling her warmth flood him.

He didn’t know how long they’d been sittin’ there, lost in each other, but when he pulled away, breathless, he looked at her with all the words he hadn’t said, all the things he still needed to say.

“Sugar, I ain’t never been more sure of somethin’ in my life. I need you. I’ve needed you since the first day I laid eyes on you. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

Sugar smiled, a slow, knowing smile, and her fingers grazed the side of his face, tender but firm.

“You don’t need to say nothin’, Sammie. I’ve known. I’ve always known.”

And before he could say another word, she leaned in again, kissing him with the kind of tenderness that made him ache deep inside. He held her tighter, his hands roaming to the small of her back as the heat between them built, the air thick with need.

Sammie pulled Sugar into his lap allowing his hands to rest on her waist not going any lower than that, pulling he looked into her eyes silently asking for permission to touch her which she gladly granted. Leaning forward he kissed her once more, the kiss full of want, need and hunger. His hands moved down to grab handfuls of her ass causing them to moan into each other’s mouths, their breaths mingling together.

Sugar’s hips ground themselves against Sammie’s making him bite down onto her lip, she pulls away swirling her tongue around his ear before biting down onto it. She trails her lips lower kissing on his neck tasting the salty sweat with her tongue. Meanwhile he’s lifted up her dress with permission, unbuckling his pants afterwards letting her sink down slowly onto his cock.

They moan into each other’s mouths once again, Sugar wrapping her hand around his throat and his fingers tangled in her hair as she rides him. “Sugar? Lemme try somethin hear?” He speaks through moans and she answers with a breathy “yes”. With permission granted he flips them so she’s now under him, his hips rolling into her while his free hand protects her head from slamming into the arm of the chair.

Pulling down the straps of her dress he exposes her breasts to him, lowering his head he takes a nipple into his mouth. His free hand reaches down between them finding her clit giving it tight fast circles to match the pace of his thrusts. “Sammie… Baby…” Sugar pants out watching him angle his hips to go deeper hitting her spot without knowing.

“Baby right there” he pulls off her nipple long enough to respond in his baritone voice “right there sugar?” To which she nods gripping the back of his head when he dove back in sucking on her nipple. She gasps arching her back slightly moaning loudly into the air not caring about who heard. “Sammie… I’m gonna…” he keeps his tempo the same while rubbing her clit, pulling off to rest his forehead against hers. “C’mon sugar, cum for me, let go”

The coil in her stomach snaps and she swears she sees white as she cums around his cock, Sammie thrusts a few more times before pulling out cumming on her stomach with a low groan. They lay there for a few moments before Sammie gets up picking Sugar up bridal style carrying her down the hall.

“Let me take care of you, Sugar,” he whispered, his voice a low murmur. “I ain’t gonna leave you like this.”

He lifted her into his arms, holding her close, feeling the warmth of her body press against his. Her head rested on his shoulder as he carried her, every step slow and deliberate as if he didn’t want to break the moment. The bed creaked softly as he laid her down, his hand lingering on her side for a moment longer than necessary.

Sugar closed her eyes, her body still humming with the aftereffects of everything they’d shared. But Sammie knew there was more to do. He wasn’t about to leave her just like that.

He stepped away briefly, his movements purposeful as he went to the basin in the corner. He ran his hands under the water filling up a huge pot heating up the water on the stove, the steam rising in the small space. He grabbed a soft cloth and soap, his hands shaking slightly with the anticipation of what was next.

When the water was ready, Sammie dumps it all into the bathtub before he returned to Sugar, who was propped up on the pillows, her eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze. She smiled weakly, her voice soft. “You don’t have to do all this, Sammie. I’m fine.”

He shook his head, his expression serious. “You deserve every bit of care, Sugar. You trusted me, and I’m gonna show you how much you mean to me.”

With a gentle touch, he helped lift her into his arms again, guiding her to the edge of the bed. He carefully wiped her skin with the warm cloth, his touch slow and steady as he cleaned the traces of their love from her body. Each stroke was soft, as if he was worshipping every inch of her, every curve, every part of her that he cherished. He then lifts her into the tub gently washing her body. The cloth moved over her belly, down her legs, until every trace of him was gone, and all that was left was the soft heat of her skin.

Sugar looked up at him, her eyes full of vulnerability and trust. “You make me feel safe, Sammie. Like I’m the only one that matters.”

Sammie’s heart ached. He placed the cloth back in the bowl, then turned his attention to the small copper pot of warm water he’d heated. He poured it gently into a shallow basin, setting it between them.

“I’m gonna wash your hair now, Sugar,” he said, his voice low. “Let me take care of you, just like you took care of me.”

She nodded, a soft, grateful smile tugging at the corner of her lips. He was so gentle with her, so focused, his every movement thoughtful and deliberate. He poured the warm water over her hair slowly, his hands cradling the back of her neck as he worked the lather into her thick curls. His fingers massaged her scalp, and she let out a soft, contented sigh.

“Mm, that feels good, Sammie,” she murmured, her eyes closing as she relaxed into his touch.

Sammie continued to work, washing her hair with tender care, making sure every strand was clean, every inch of her body pampered. He rinsed her hair, his hands careful and slow as he ran them through the curls, feeling the smoothness of her wet locks slip between his fingers. There was something so intimate about it — the way he was taking care of her, the way she let him in.

When he was finished, he dried her off gently, wrapping a soft towel around her shoulders, letting the warmth of it sink into her skin.

“You’re perfect, Sugar,” he whispered, his eyes full of adoration. “I just want you to know that. You’re perfect.”

Sugar looked at him, her eyes full of gratitude, and Sammie swore his heart skipped a beat. She reached up and cupped his face, her thumb tracing the edge of his jawline.

“You don’t have to do all this for me, Sammie,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “But I’m glad you do.”

Sammie smiled, his hand brushing through her damp curls, his heart full. “I’ll always do this for you, Sugar. I’ll always take care of you.”

He laid beside her then, pulling the covers over them both, his arm around her waist. Sugar nestled into his chest, her breathing slow and steady as she drifted into a peaceful sleep, the weight of the day finally settling in. Sammie held her close, his heart full of love and pride, knowing that, for once, everything was exactly as it should be.

[szasfuckingwife]

Yakuza!Gojo who’s the future head of the family. Everything, money, information, deaths, goes through him. The sight of him alone sends shivers down many people.

Yakuza!Gojo who often visits the strip club with other members of the family. It was more leisure time for them, seeing some pretty girls and having that buzz from drinks? No one would deny that. That’s where he met you.

Seeing your body up on that pole made Satoru almost starstruck. The beauty of your curves and the way the lingerie was pressed against your tits and ass made him want to make a mess in his pants right there. Everything was moving slowly, especially when you walked up to him.

Yakuza!Gojo who knew he had to fuck you. If not him, who else? And so, he interrupted your scheduled private dances and landed a fat stack of cash in your hands, money that you could not refuse. You’ll never forget his face when he said that he’ll compensate for the interruption.

You wish you were dreaming, you honestly wish you were. But that’d mean the feeling he’s giving to you isn’t real. The way he’s relentlessly fucking you wouldn’t be real. He snaps his hips, colliding with the plush of your ass. Nothing in the room could be heard but your moans, the skin slapping and his filthy words.

“You fuckin’ like that, yeah?”

“Fuckin slut for my cock, aren’t you?”

“Good fuckin’ girl, throw it back…”

Yakuza!Gojo who made you his fuck buddy after multiple rounds that night. He refused to leave his bed until he had enough of you. But it was never enough. He loved fucking you.

But then, after three months, you wake up to him just staring at you. You don’t say anything, and neither does he. But a mutual understanding that ‘this was never supposed to go this far’ was shared.

Yakuza!Gojo who ghosts you the next day. Deletes your number, blocks you, doesn’t show up to the club anymore. You can’t even cry because that was never your man, he was never yours.

That’s how you found out he was already betrothed to someone and announced his engagement. An uncommon feeling of heartbreak loomed over you. Now, imagine heartbreak accompanied with the feeling of shock that there are two lines on the stick that sits on your bathroom counter.

You knew it was his. There was no debate about it. Two options circulated in your mind. Option A: Don’t tell him, figure out what to do with the baby on your own. Or, Option B, tell him immediately and maybe break his engagement up.

You chose the latter.

Yakuza!Gojo never liked his fiancé anyway. He didn’t personally choose her to marry, his father did. So, when you turn up at his doorstep to tell him the news, he cries. He cries right in front of you and hugs you tightly.

“I love you. Only you, Y/N….I’ll do my best with this baby.”

[g1rld1ary]

who's your friend? - james potter x reader

wc: 745 summary: james tries a pick up line on you at a party me: this is tiny but i wanted to just write something after such a long time not touching anything bc of uni!! a contribution to modern au for @acourtofchaos festival!

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

the party you were at was kind of lame. the drinks were gone, the music was lame, and your friend was draped over some guy’s lap. you knew you weren’t going to get her back anytime soon, and you didn’t know that you even minded — it only meant you’d have to plaster on a fake smile for another hour.

you thought about finding your own man to throw yourself at, but honestly no one you’d seen yet was giving you much inspiration, but maybe that was just because of your sour mood.

you rummaged around in your bag, searching for something to occupy your time, settling on redoing your lip combo in the tiny compact you brought along everywhere. that could only keep you busy for so long though, and you were once again looking around the party for something to occupy your attention.

unbeknownst to you, someone else had set their eyes on you, keenly observing you carefully, pencil lining your lips.

“who’s that?” james asked, lounging coolly against the party host’s kitchen island, drink in hand. his eyes were locked on your figure, dabbing lip gloss onto your lips, eyebrows slightly furrowed in focus.

“dunno, must be a friend of a friend. fit though,” sirius replied, hardly moving from his position sprawled across remus.

“don’t be crude. she’s gorgeous.” james looked remarkably like a puppy, unable to stop looking at you.

“go talk to her then, prongs. she’s just a girl,” remus suggested, hand subconsciously rubbing circles on sirius’ skin, the other hand lazily holding the neck of a beer bottle.

james nodded, bouncing on his heels to hype himself up, breathing in and out a few times to gather the nerve. sirius and remus exchanged a look, unused to seeing james nervous to approach a girl.

“hi,” james said, drawing your attention.

“hey,” you replied, sliding your makeup back into your little purse.

“enjoying the party?” he asked, and you quirked an eyebrow, trying to assess his intentions. you thought he might’ve been hitting on you, but he wasn’t getting as close or as sleazy as most of the twenty-something party guys you usually met.

“i suppose so,” you replied, “but i’ve been ditched, so… what about you?”

“oh! yeah, it’s fine. not cool you got ditched though.” your lips twitched into the beginnings of a smile, somehow charmed by the boy.

james eventually did remember to introduce himself, engaging you in smalltalk for another minute, which was longer than you anticipated.

“so…” he trailed off, suddenly growing nervous. “my friend thinks you’re cute.”

you raised your eyebrows, surprised it took him this long to get to his mission.

“which friend would that be?” you glanced behind him to the group of three boys, very unsubtly watching your interaction.

“me.” your eyes snapped back to james, not the answer you were expecting. you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, lighthearted surprise at his terrible pickup line.

james smiled at your smile, the two of you creating a moment in the middle of the chaos of the party.

“would my friend be able to get your number?” he asked, and you subconsciously tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“i mean, yeah why not,” you laughed, writing your number on his (attractively big) hand, “you can tell him i think he’s kinda cute.”

“awesome!” he laughed, the other hand going to rub the back of his neck. “well, i should probably get back to my friends, but it was really nice to meet you.”

“yeah, you too, james. you can tell your friend it’s nice to meet him as well.” james flushed a brilliant shade of red, nodding and stuttering as he stumbled his way back to his friends, who were all eagerly awaiting a full report of the conversation.

you’d finally found your friend, who’d been turned off of her man for one reason or another, pulling her aside to point out james.

“he’s cute!” she cried, squealing until you had to slap your hand over her mouth. you’d obviously drawn the attention of his dark-haired friend, who was laughing at both of you. you dragged her out of the room before he could draw james’ attention and embarrass you further, but a smile was blooming on your lips as you remembered james’ ridiculous pickup line.

[golden-ebony]

Omg I adored your 10’s a crowd fic!! What if Logan was with a reader who loved the color pink! Their bedroom had pink everything, even wearing pink! You can make them innocent if you want but imagine how Logan would just find the reader so angel-like coming hard surrounded by bright pink pastels🤭

Handsome in Pink‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

♡ Pairing: Logan Howlett/female!Reader

♡ Word Count: 1.4k

♡ Rating: Explicit 18+

♡ Warning/Tags: SMUT! MINORS DNI, sub!Logan, hand job in the mirror, PRAISE, p-v sex, unprotected sex, a lil cum play (kinda?), a lil orgasm denial

♡ Note: Just a quick lil thing because love a lil sub!Logan and I love the color pink. I specifically envision worst!Logan for this, but do as you please

It wasn't something Logan had noticed about you at first. Pink. Typically, it was something subtle like your nails or just one piece of your outfit like that short little number that drove him crazy. When you causally mentioned that it was your favorite color, it all clicked for him. It wasn't just what you wore.

It was the little coral trinkets and floor mats in your car. It was rose gold key ring. It was the baby pink lace panties that poked out when you reached across his lap to grab the remote. They were all different shades. You saw rose, millennial, salmon, cherry blossom, etc. Logan, on the other hand...

"Hm, the site says pastel but then sends this," you groaned as you eyed the skirt that arrived in the mail.

With furrowed brows, Logan crossed his arms. "Ain't that pastel?"

"It's more bubblegum than pastel."

"But it's pink."

"You don't get it."

Logan would be the first to admit that he didn't exactly have an eye for fashion or design, but when he saw your room for the first time, he knew he had never seen so much pink in his life. There were a variety of pinkish hues were broken up by white furniture and flourishing green plants. The pastel bedding mixed with darker pillows and blankets somehow worked for Logan.

Logan had never seen a room like this. And by god, he had never experienced pleasure the way he did in that rosy room.

Your preference for pink gave people a number of preconceived notions, Logan included. A number of those assumptions were correction. Sweet, romantic, sensitive, tender—these were words that could describe you.

Innocent wasn't one of them. And Logan learned this in the best way possible.

"Look at you, baby," you cooed, feathery kisses lining Logan's shoulder. Both on your knees, you were flushed against Logan's taut back. Logan's large figure towered over yours. Still, you had a clear view of the man in your standing mirror. Your slight hand, wet from a mix of your own saliva and his pre-cum, was wrapping around his throbbing cock. Your nails of your other hand slightly tranced circles onto his back. "So handsome, so big...so good for me."

Logan's chest heaved and abs clenched as you tried to control his breathing. It was overwhelming for Logan. The feeling of your frilled, cerise bralette against his back, your warm hand steadily pumping him, your soft stare gazing at his reflection.

It would be easy for Logan to thrust his hips into your grip, control the pace. But there was something about giving into you, surrendering to your alluring spell.

"Fuck, sweetheart..." Logan's groans came deep from his chest as he tried to ignore every dominant instinct he had. "I need to touch you. Please darlin'."

You relished in his begs and pleads but continued your pace. The deep growls that were emitting from his chest was proof of thin his control was at. Your thumb grazed on his tip causing Logan's hips to unintentionally buck.

Your nails roughly dug into his back, earning a wince mixed with pain and pleasure. "Easy, baby...I think you're doing just fine with what you got, yeah?"

Logan couldn't find the words to respond. The smell of your peony perfume and your soft voice dancing through his head, being under your trance—it was intoxicating. Retraining himself, Logan dug his own palms into the sides of his thighs. He was a mess, and you both were loving every second of it.

It was like a high to watch the indestructible man crumble under the simple weight of your touch, knees digging into the cerise fleeced blanket. With ragged breaths and a twitching cock, you could tell Logan near his climax. You savored the strained breaths and groans that Logan couldn't help but release.

"You're gonna come for me, Lo." Your voice was just above a whisper, but you knew Logan heard you. You weren't asking; you never had to. Keeping your speed steady, you keep your eyes locked on his through the mirror. "Just let it happen, baby. Doing so good for me."

Logan's release was almost immediate as if he was waiting for your divine approval. His body clenched against your, feeling his release tighten every inch of his physique. He'd rather have painted your walls, feel you clench around him. But the feeling of taking ropes of his cum into your palm just to lather his still-hardened cock with it as he rode his high felt like something else entirely. As he watched you lubricate his cock further, his thoughts were completely taken over by your soft moans of approval.

"Oh, Lo, such a good boy," you purred against his shoulder. The sound of your praise made his cock twitch again. And you knew what he wanted.

You looked ethereal as you rode his cock. The sight of his cock continuously disappearing into your tight cunt—leaving a creamed ring in its wake—it was heaven. Logan was more than happy to watch you control your pace on his lap in exchange of finally being able to caress you. With a slacked jaw, his rough hands massaged your soft skin from your thighs to your ass, all while watching provide him levels of pleasure that he hadn't experienced in years. And he never imagined he'd feel this way with blushed, stringed lights in his vision field and rose, satin sheets smoothing his back.

Even when you told Logan not to come, not yet at least, Logan found that there was a level of pleasure of watching you get yourself off on his lap. Yes, flipping you over and hammering deep into you until you drunk from his cock sounded good. Yet, surrendering to your alluring call was something else entirely.

"Jesus, princess." He words were barely audible as his eyes roamed your figure. "So goddamn pretty."

Your hum turned into a worn gasp as you felt your climax on the horizon again. You knew ordering Logan to hold off on his own climax during your last one was difficult. As your grinds turned into bounces, Logan looked desperate. He needed to finish in you, coat his favorite pink walls white.

"I know, Lo..." You were practically about to come apart yourself, leaning down to pressed your chest against his. Your strained yet firm voice rang in his ear, "I need y-you to fill me, baby. S-so close."

His grip on your hips slightly tightened. His needy eyes looked in with yours, scanning for you permission to give you everything he had. He didn't see it but he sure as hell heard.

"Please, Logan, just fuck me! I need you, baby."

Like flipping a switch, his hips thrusted up into you with reckless abandon. Your cries were soon muffled when Logan's lips meet yourself in a searing kiss, but he needed to hear those pretty little moans of yours no matter how sweet you tasted. Nuzzling his head into your neck, he continued to mercilessly thrust into you, feeling the recoil of your ass against his hips.

The combination of his teeth nipping at your pulse and pounding deliciously close to your cervix made your eyes roll. You knew you were good at getting Logan to fall into a wave of pleasure just from your touch alone, but the both of you knew Logan could easily turn those tides.

"That's it, Lo. No one fucks me like yo—fuck!" Your voice cracked as your orgasm shot through your body quicker than you expected. Your nails dug themselves into Logan's shoulder as he continued to fuck you through your high. The cries of his name was enough to push him to his edge.

"Ah—shit! Thank you, baby, so fucking good!" With three final thrusts, Logan spilled into you, completely enveloped in a rosy haze. He came harder than he did earlier, entirely stuffing you with his arousal.

Clinging to your glistened figure, his mind was cloudy. The rose-colored sheets were definitely closer to cherry under Logan's sweating form. He couldn't conjure a singular thought as you slowly grinded against his, singing his praises. There wasn't a better feeling; Logan was sure of it.

If pleasure had a color, it was definitely pink.

♡ note: i love hearing y'all's thoughts

[koalayoo]

Men who talk a certain way.

They carry themselves with elegance, talk with a poised cadence unique to them. They hold themselves upright and have an air of superiority. A cunning look, signature smirk, firm hand; these are staples of their character, they know how to strike a deal. Whether for their people or their own gain, they intimidate those to gain an advantage no matter how many exploits gone through or people exploited.

People either love or fear them.

They’re important.

It’s no surprise that they sit at the centre of the table at a meeting, commanding attention. All eyes are on them, gripping their every word. Prompt nods and murmurs of agreements follow. They’re smart too. Incredible wit and perceptiveness as they continuously glance at everyone, especially you.

Fuck, and they’re hot too.

It makes your blood run hot. Jolts shoot throughout your body and you avert your gaze. It was stupid to you to be losing your cool for a man who felt indifferent about your existence. Maybe that isn’t the right word. 

Sometimes, you would question whether he hated you. Whenever you needed a pen, your hands brushed against one another for a second and he would quickly pull back as if being stung by a bee with a slight scowl forming on his face. If the piles of paper you needed to finish took too long, he would be adamant you finish for the night, which is all fine and dandy if he wasn’t looking for help from others to complete your work. He even reprimanded you, talked to you in that familiar stern tone once for not having your priorities in place when a stranger came up to you in a flirtatious manner as if you could control that. 

He pissed you off. 

Why couldn’t he care about you like a normal person?

However, you were wrong about all of it. He cared too much.

When your fingers grazed him he was ridden with guilt, these were the same hands he would think about at night. Imagine tracing the sharp edges of his skin. He would shut his eyes and throw his head back, replacing his hands with your own. Try to commit the soft feel of yours to his. Would you go slow or fast? He wondered. How would you hold him? Would you let him make a mess? His thoughts would trail on and on questioning your grip, your face, what you would say.

So, it was no surprise when he saw you working yourself to exhaustion that he wanted you to rest. That was his duty after all. Only he could do that. The eyes that he desperately wanted to see glazed over with a lust filled haze needed to be well rested first. That way, he could slowly see them become drunk for him, turning red, bloodshot from just how well he would treat you.

And it was especially no surprise that when another person had the audacity to want you too, he had to stop them. Sure, you didn’t deserve the scolding but he would make you feel so much better later on. He just had to be patient.

Had to keep his tone steady and tame. Pretend to treat you just like everyone else. Even if you thought he hated you. He could fuck you like that too if you wanted. He would give you anything you wanted. However, you didn’t deserve to know how depraved he truly was.

There was a thought that lingered at the forefront of his mind. If you found out just how he imagined you, would you leave? He figured you might feel disgusted, a man of his caliber, his power, wanting to succumb to you. And so he continued to talk. Continued to keep his tone steady. Keep his tone tame. 

He would keep himself in line; refined. Because if you found out how he was imagining you, perhaps then this man would truly feel fear.

fantasising about...

Sylus, NEUVILLETTE, Jing Yuan, Welt, Sunday, DAN HENG, Artem, Zhongli!, Gepard, Alhaitham?, Cyno ...and anyone else you're thinking of

Hope you liked this! Inspired by the song 'Talk' by Hozier. Specifically the line, "So I'll try to talk refined for fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you." Please give it a listen! It was in my Spotify Top 5 it's so good and captures the vibe I was trying to go for with this. Sorry for the yap. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated!

[madaqueue]

A HEAD HELD HIGH IS SURE TO FALL

every night, the king of curses repeats the same routine - waltzing through the halls, often covered in blood (of course not his own - never his own; after all, he was the king for a reason), choosing from one of his many concubines, and storming into his chambers. every night, the screams echoed through the empty temple; every morning, the girl he bedded was gone. you figured you'd take your chances when you ventured onto his estate, following the promise of comfort and lavishness. but when he chooses you, you can't help but dread the unknown fate waiting on the other side.

pairing: trueform!sukuna x f!reader

themes/content: dark content (dubcon). smut. blood, mention of death and murder, biting/bruising, degradation (slut, whore, cocksleeve), he slaps your ass, fingering, dumbification, double penetration, sukuna is real freaky nasty mean. 18+, MDNI (wk: 4.1k)

a/n: licking the blood off his face or whatever

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At first, you think the girls must have been happy. They were chosen by the King of Curses, after all. They wore their heads high, pride settling on their shoulders as they waltzed after him to his chambers.

At first, the others ignored the screams. Perhaps it was pleasure twisted into pain, they tried to reason. When the girls never came back the next day, the others wanted to assume the best. Perhaps he so cherished their time together that he decided to free them from the temple, relinquishing the bindings of their agreement to stay.

But you have grown to learn otherwise.

Because you know Ryomen Sukuna is not a kind man. He would never spare a victim for the sake of sympathy; it wouldn’t be particularly fitting for a king, after all. It took work to claw his way to the top, and despite how easy it may seem to overlook the mountain of corpses he stands upon, you’ve never quite gotten over the feeling that he’s glaring down at you.

Now, when heavy footsteps echo down the hall, the air runs cold. You line up next to the others, eyes trained downward, only catching glimpses of the dried blood staining the edges of his robes.

When he points at one of the girls next to you, her body seems to collapse: it’s giving up - her fate has been sealed. Now, the obligation hangs heavy, a collar tightened around her throat, chains clattering as she walks to her doom.

There’s silence for a moment before the rest of you uncomfortably rise and return to whatever tasks filled the time. You were all so numb to death by now it didn’t even linger in your thoughts for more than a moment, a brief flash of decay. You honestly don’t think you even remember the name of the girl who had just been chosen, not that it mattered anyways. Nobody would be speaking it again.

Painting is what you find yourself returning to. It’s what originally drew you to Sukuna’s temple on that wretched summer’s day, after all. You had been searching for materials in the woods, new flowers to use as dyes to craft with, when something flashed across your vision: a girl, in the brightest white dress you’d ever seen. She giggled, her skin glowing under the sun as she hummed to herself.

You found yourself following her. Nobody lived in these woods, at least not that you had ever seen. Anyone you happened to encounter was usually clad in leather or metal, weapons strapped to their sides, hunting for survival.

But not her.

She looked perfectly defenseless, beautifully vulnerable. She didn’t even turn around as you slowly approached her, not a single survival instinct left. What comforts made her so willing to forego protection?

“Excuse me,” you called, reaching an arm out as though to prove she was, in fact, real. When your hand made contact with her warm skin, she didn’t even flinch.

“Oh!” she laughed. “I didn’t see you there. Are you lost?” She was even more stunning up close.

“N-no,” your voice cracked in awe. “I just…do you live out here?”

Her gaze softened as she smiled. “Oh, yes. I live in the temple, I was just out for a walk.”

“Your temple…?”

“Well, it’s not my temple, I suppose,” and that gorgeous laugh returned. “It belongs to Lord Sukuna.”

The title felt familiar in your head, a name covered in cobwebs and dust, one you only remembered hearing in the dark. “And he allows you to stay there?”

“Yes! He allows all of us to stay there, and he takes such lovely care of us, too. We have the most delicious meals, the most comfortable beds, any whim we could possibly think up is catered to in an instant.”

Something in her words made your muscles ache - you had surely been walking for miles by now, a layer of dirt coating your skin. Your stomach churned in hunger, not having eaten in possibly days, unable to consistently afford even the bare minimum. Sometimes the shop owners in town took pity on you, but sometimes they cast you away with a cruel glare. There was a flash of jealousy inside you - what had she done to deserve these luxuries? Just as the thought found its way to your tongue, she continued.

“Would you like to come see it?”

Glancing down at your calloused and stained hands, you wondered how soft hers felt. You wondered if she smelled like flowers. You wondered if you could, too.

“Yes,” you mumbled.

It took so few words to convince you - looking back on it, you wonder if she was even trying to convince you at all. She hadn’t oversold the reality, per se. You wonder if you could go back to that moment, if there’s anything you could have said to prevent yourself from joining her.

You brush the thought aside with a sigh. It doesn’t matter now, after all - you willingly walked yourself to a promised paradise, and now have come to resent it. In spite of its comforts, in spite of its safety, you’ve never felt more vulnerable.

At least you can paint here.

Resting your elbows against the wooden window frame, you paint scenes of places far from this cage, places you can now only imagine. Perhaps if you can create them on paper, your mind could one day venture there, too.

Sukuna’s servant, Uraume, the one you always see quietly bustling about, does have a talent for finding the most beautiful pigments. You wonder where they collect them from, how expensive they are. You almost laugh at the thought of Sukuna paying for something like this, and you wonder if he knows where his wealth gets spent. The laugh dies in your throat as you realize that he likely has never had to actually purchase anything in his life. His currency is fear.

And yet, you can’t find it in yourself to care. Today, a beautiful fall landscape uncovers itself from your brushes. Deep browns and oranges cascade across the canvas. But there’s a sour taste lingering in your mouth as you work - it’s all dead. Every fallen leaf, every cracked branch is dead. That’s all things seem to be anymore.

With a huff, you let your momentary frustration get the better of you, splattering the carefully collected red paint across your masterpiece, a bloodied smear across your work. At least now it looks alive.

The next day is the same.

Sukuna enters.

You all line up.

Your knees hurt from kneeling on the stone floor.

He walks down the line (you wonder how many there are here, now - you’d think the numbers would be dwindling after the near daily executions, but they seem to remain steady, always replenished with some new bright-eyed girl who thinks she’s found her salvation, only to learn it’s her damnation).

But today, you can’t bring yourself to lower your head.

You know you ought to - the other girls taught you during your first week here. Apparently, in the past, he had simply killed those who refused to bow for him outright, not even bothering to torture them first.

But today, you just can’t. Perhaps being killed would be more merciful than this hellish purgatory you’ve found yourself in. At the very least, you’ll die with your head held high.

Footsteps stop in front of you.

“Oh? What’s this?”

A shiver runs up your spine. You’ve barely heard him speak in all your time here, you realize. When he chooses to, it’s exclusively been to bark orders at Uraume or scream at those who come to worship him. But this is different. He seems almost…excited.

“You know, it’s impolite not to bow.” And he has to be fucking with you, because you swear you hear him practically giggle out the words.

“I am aware, my Lord.” The words taste bitter as you spit them out, but you don’t make any action to move. Instead, your gaze rises to meet his, and your heart stutters. Ruby eyes stare back at you, masked by matching blood splattered across his skin. He looks nothing short of godly - perhaps that’s why so many willingly worship him.

And then, the god before you laughs.

“Come with me,” he beckons before turning away.

The girls around you can’t hold back their quiet gasps as you slowly rise to your feet.

He’s going to kill you.

As you follow behind him, the words sink into your stomach.

He’s going to kill you.

Each step down the path makes your heart beat in turn.

He’s going to kill you.

Rounding an unfamiliar corner, you nearly careen into him as he suddenly stops before two large wooden doors. They’re intricately carved, a level of detail you wouldn’t have expected for a place dedicated to killing. And yet, they’re utterly beautiful.

“In,” he growls when you fail to move.

You nervously shuffle past him before heavy footsteps follow you inside. Your gaze wanders over his chambers, the maroon bedding mirroring blood, the dark wood posts caging it in. Everything about it feels oppressive, sucking the air from your lungs like smoke; and yet, it doesn’t seem fitting for a place of sacrifice.

“Derobe and get on the bed.”

He’s shuffling around behind you, not even looking your way as he maneuvers through the space.

Hesitantly, you do as you're told, draping your robes over the headboard before laying down. The comforter is soft beneath your skin, cool to the touch. Perhaps silk? Some luxury you’ve never been afforded, surely.

The entire room seems to shift under the magnitude of his presence as he walks towards you. His own robes are now banished to some corner of the room, skin sparkling under the flickering candlelight from the chandelier above. Two pairs of arms cross as he glances at you, and he hides his smirk with a scoff. “What’s this? I didn’t tell you to lay down - we aren’t here to make love, I’m here to fuck you.”

Your cheeks flush as you grit your teeth. He didn’t give you clear instructions, how the hell were you supposed to know what to do? The movement of your body as you adjust onto your hands and knees hopefully hides the way your eyes roll.

But Sukuna did not grow to be this powerful by being inattentive.

“Oh?” And there’s that same chuckle again. “For someone who’s about to be killed, you’re awfully presumptive.”

“My sincerest apologies, Lord Sukuna,” you manage to spit (the sincerity is lost from the words).

Everything becomes warm as he looms over you, hot skin pressing against yours. He smells like blood and smoke and violence, something in it making your legs tremble. He’s almost terrifying up close; he’s almost beautiful.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

His face is right next to yours now. You shake your head.

“You’re here to entertain me.”

When you don’t respond further, a large palm digs into your scalp, grabbing you by your hair to force your attention to his. Unenthusiastic eyes meet flaming ones.

“Okay?” You shouldn’t be speaking to him like this, you know you shouldn’t be speaking to him like this. He’s going to kill you. But maybe that’s the problem - when you know you’re going to die, there’s nothing left to lose. You were always taught to never corner a wounded animal. “Get it over with, then. Go on, entertain yourself.”

He smirks. You don’t stop.

“Fuck me, hurt me, do whatever the hell you want to me, but don’t expect me to get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness. And certainly don’t expect me to plead for your mercy.”

If he was any closer, you’d flinch from the sheer volume of his laugh. Tears nearly prick at the corners of his eyes as his entire body shakes with utter glee. “Oh, my, I outdid myself with you, didn’t I?” he muses.

Finally, it’s your turn to be silent.

“Do you know why I chose you?”

A snarky remark sits on the tip of your tongue, but it’s held back by the cold grip of shock. For once, you’re speechless.

“I chose you,” he leans forward, close enough to catch the lingering flecks of blood across his skin, “because the stubborn ones are the most fun to break.”

The silk bedding is much less soft when your face is shoved into it. The firm hand on the back of your head pushes you forward, threatening to shred the remaining semblance of your dignity as you fall. It’s rough, the way he throws you down like nothing more than a doll, one he’s grown tired of playing with.

Scrambling to find him in your vision again, you feel him before you see him - four of those same giant palms resting on your hips.

He’s going to kill you.

When you expect pain, anything else is a pleasant surprise. Especially, it would seem, two fingers trailing between your legs.

“Are you always this pathetic?” he asks.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re fucking wet.” He’s not wrong, unfortunately, you know he’s not wrong, you can feel it in the way he circles his calloused digits over your clit. “Is me being cruel truly that appealing?”

Just as your lips part to retort, to spit back the poison he’s feeding you, the sound twists into a smokey moan as he slides into you.

“Hah. Thought so, fucking whore.”

He’s killed before. You’ve never seen it, but you’ve heard the screams, of course. He’s probably choked and stabbed more people than you have even known in your limited lifespan. Of course the hands of a killer would be powerful, but you never imagined they’d stretch you out quite like this. Perhaps the damage brought by them is transferred to your body with each curl towards your core, each rough motion pulling your muscles towards an uninviting goal.

But that means you can use that violence. You can contain it, redirect it, control it.

“I’m not a whore.”

“Oh? So sure?”

And then he’s pressing harder. Muscles start contracting, your legs start shaking.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

With white knuckles, you veer yourself away from the edge at the last moment.

Sukuna, of course, feels it.

“Don’t want to cum, little one?” His mock affection is almost sickeningly sweet on his tongue as he giggles. “So be it. Only making things harder for yourself.”

Those same calloused fingers are ripped from your cunt. Finally, you can take in a full breath.

Your lungs stop halfway through expanding when something else suddenly fills you.

A scream threatens to tear from your throat as the tip of his cock enters into you. Teeth bite into the flesh of your arm to stifle the sound, your eyes screwed shut. Everything goes red, the burning flames inside your chest igniting.

Behind you, Sukuna laughs.

“What’s the matter? Can’t handle it, hm?”

There are marks on your skin from where your canines dug into it. You shake your head. “I-I can handle it.”

“Good.”

His hips pull back before slamming into you. Then it’s hands, everywhere - groping your chest, your ass, your hips, your stomach. Every part of you feels his palms, his flesh fighting with the air to contain your body.

Rough, unapologetic thrusts shake your frame. The muscles in your back strain to keep you upright, willing yourself to not collapse into the mattress beneath you, knowing that falling into the silk sheets holds the same fate as a grave.

One of his lower hands smacks your ass, the plump flesh rippling before long fingernails dig into it. “Perfect fuckin’ body,” Sukuna grumbles from behind you - if you were in any other setting, you would almost blush at the praise.

But now, all you can do is choke back a moan in response.

His movements are fast, but steady, you realize. The fog of your thoughts begins to clear, your clarity returning.

You can do this.

The ruby comforter folds in your grasp as you pull your palms into fists. Legs steady, arms ready.

The next time his cock bullies into you, you meet his thrusts. When he reaches deeper, it almost feels good.

So, you keep moving your hips in pace, pushing them flush against his pelvis each time. God, it feels fucking devine.

That breathy chuckle echoes behind you, one that never bodes well.

“Aw, does that feel good?” he coos, saccharine words dripping red from his lips.

You’re almost too gone to miss the sarcasm. “Y-yes.”

“Desperate little thing, you want more?”

Nails almost pierce the skin of your hips. You nod.

“Now, now, that’s no way to speak to me. Use your words.”

“Please,” you whine - you shouldn’t be doing this, you know you shouldn’t - “more, Lord S’kuna.”

You dug your grave, and the air of his laugh is enough to blow you forward into it.

One hand trails from your waist down to your ass, massaging it softly - the thunder before lightning. In an instant, sharp teeth bite into your skin. Hard.

You cry out, but he just giggles, the mouth that had formed on his palm gone in an instant.

Distracted by the sudden pain, your senses are too preoccupied to notice the way he continues his path down, until you feel something cold. Sukuna’s spit lands on your puckered hole, his thumb rubbing around the rim.

He’s going to fucking kill you.

Just as your lips part to protest, one thick finger pushes past the first ring of muscles inside you. Then two.

The moment you finally feel yourself beginning to relax, he pulls his hand away. It’s just as quickly replaced with something much, much bigger. The tip of his second cock is sticky with precum as it rests against your skin.

You knew Sukuna was not a patient man, but you had hoped he’d be gracious with you now.

The blood speckling his skin reminds you how foolish those hopes had been.

With one hand gripping his base, he slowly presses into you. On instinct, you attempt to squirm away, but his remaining arms wrap firmly around your torso, holding you in place.

“Wai-aah,” the sound garbles as you bite into your forearm, this time hard enough to pierce flesh. Your blood blends into the bedding.

Eyes screwed shut, you can’t see the sinister smirk painting his features, all four eyes fixed on where the two of you are connected.

“C’mon now,” he huffs, “a good little whore like you can take it, can’t you?”

A whine escapes your throat in denial, but it sounds more like an affirmation as it hits the air. Especially with the way your knees begin to buckle.

You feel every vein and ridge of his cocks as he slides out of you.

You feel nothing but ecstasy when he thrusts back in.

Everything is hot, your skin on fire. Shaky breaths rattle in your chest, shallow puffs of air through parted lips.

It’s too much, every muscle in your body held taught. The slick sound of his cocks pumping in and out of you fills the room, fills your mind.

And you can’t even think, can barely breathe, anymore. Your eyes roll back, tongue lolling from your mouth as you desperately pant.

“See, doesn’t it feel good to be my little cocksleeve?” he purrs from behind you - he’s not even out of breath despite the way his abs clench with each thrust. “Fuckin’ cunt was made for this.”

And something switches off in your brain, because there’s no other reasonable explanation for the words tumbling from your bruised and bitten lips. “F-feels good.”

He’s nothing short of shocked by your admission - but then again, he did set out with the goal of breaking you. A giddy smile blooms on his lips.

“Aw, what’s this? Already fucked dumb?” A rough palm gropes at your tits.

And a part of you knows you’re above this.

But that part went up in flames the moment Sukuna’s thick cocks ripped you apart, tearing you open and putting you back together in a shape of his liking.

“Mmhm,” you can barely nod, drool collecting at the corner of your mouth, but you’re in utterly no position to wipe it away, your hands preoccupied with gripping the bed sheets below, the fabric twisting between your fingers.

“So it’s true then - you’re just a fucking slut, hm?”

You’re better than this.

You’re smart. Determined. Strong.

“I’m - nnng - m’your slut.”

Pride tingles his nerves, fingers digging into your skin, sharpened nails leaving marks on your waist. With one deep thrust, you feel him in your throat and your vision is blurry and your muscles give out.

But Sukuna is always stronger.

Four arms hold your limp body as he continues fucking into you. Truly nothing more than a cocksleeve the way he’s using you, so small in his grasp, so powerless. And yet, your thighs are sticky and slick from just how wet you are.

Teeth prick at your back, your shoulders, your neck. Marked in bites and bruises, you’ve become his canvas, stained with his claim on you. Reds and pinks and purples bloom beneath your skin, painted in sharp canines and pointed nails. A signature left along your hips, up your spine - his.

Broken whines of his name get forced from your lungs with each thrust, the only sound besides his heavy balls slapping against your skin.

That fire begins to burn brighter in your core. You want to call it resentment, but you aren’t that naive, not anymore.

“Heh, is my little whore gonna cum from being used like this?”

At least his smirk is outside the realm of your perception, the only thing you feel being the ravenous push and pull of his cocks inside you, the tightness and burning pleasure they bring each time his tip pokes deeper and deeper.

You want to shake your head, you want to deny him, deny the effect he has on you.

But all you get out is a weak cry of “please,” before your skin erupts in flames. Your cunt spasms around him, everything going red.

He pumps into you six more times before both of his cocks twitch in unison, unloading sticky ropes impossibly deep into your aching holes. He growls as he does, muscles rippling under the strain of his conquest.

When he releases you, your body collapses onto the damp sheets below. Cheek squished into the maroon, it all bleeds into itself, until you can’t tell where the bed ends and Sukuna begins. It’s only when you feel it shift from the lack of his weight that you know he’s gone.

Everything hurts. Everything is too hot. Everything feels so fucking good.

You should feel shame, you think - you should hate yourself for the way he used you, broke you. He tore your strength away with bloodied teeth until you were weak and limp. Maybe it’s the slow pulsing that lingers between your legs, but you can’t bring yourself to resent it - it was a battle well fought (and victory takes many forms, after all).

But the thing is, you are strong.

With a muffled groan, you shift your weight closer to the edge, the remnants of Sukuna’s claim lingering on your body in scratches and bruises, burning desire.

“You may collect your things, someone will be in-”

When his gaze falls upon you, he freezes where he stands in the corner of his chambers, robe half-draped over his broad shoulders.

You’re wobbly as you stand, cum leaking down your thighs, ruffled hair and unfocused eyes, but he recognizes something in them, a fire he would call strength.

And Sukuna smiles. Not the condescending smirk of a man pitying his captive, but one of respect. He crosses two pairs of arms over his chest.

“What’s this?” he mutters to himself. “Well then, Uraume will be in to help you bathe.”

“Bathe?” You use all the remaining air in your chest to keep your voice from sounding weak. “Before you kill me?”

There’s that giggle again, but the sharpness to it has dulled slightly, in a way you would hesitantly call fondness. “Oh, I won’t be killing you.” Turning, he brushes the thought away with a wave of his hand. “You’ve proven yourself to be quite entertaining, and I’d be a fool to discard such a fun little whore.” But there’s no bite to the words as he says it.

Your legs feel steadier as you stand.

“I expect to see you in my chambers tomorrow, understood?”

Crimson irises catch the flickering candlelight.

You refuse to bow.

Sharpened teeth poke between a smirk.

“Of course, Lord Sukuna.”

[josephquinnswhore]

where you go, I go - stalker joel miller x female reader AU.

summary: joel hasn’t been the same since ex his wife abandoned him and his daughter, but he’s been watching you for months.. you’re the perfect replacement.

word count: 1.1k

content warning: extreme stalking, harassment, unhealthy infatuation, murder, brief mention of potential kidnapping, unhealthy idealism, manipulation, gaslighting.

Today was really not the day for this, your complete lack of intolerance to bullshit had reached its capacity.

But this had been happening every attempt for the past week, a relatively new and frankly.. abruptly confusing issue.

The button on your key fob for your car makes the indicators flash orange each attempt to pry the boot open. With a click or the button, it’s supposed to open the boot automatically.

But your car doesn’t do that, no. It insists on a one armed wrestling match while you have to click the button simultaneously.

Thanks to Joel, the man that has been absolutely infatuated with you for months, since you’d hired them for a minor job, just a custom order bookshelf. Not something the men would typically accept but Joel was absolutely infatuated with you.

Since then he hadn’t ever been far from where you were. Even if that meant showing up to your house at night and sabotaging apart of your car.

It’s hot out. These Texan summers were no joke and with no breeze, the beads of sweat meticulously lined upon your forehead, not one inch of it wasn’t covered in sweat.

“Come on!” With a grunt of frustration, you attempt to wrestle the boot open again, pushing it down to try and get the latch unstuck.

He watches on as you struggle with the boot of your car for the third time this week alone, how you managed to live your life without a man to take care of you was a real mystery to him.

As amusing as it is to watch you struggle, he figures he needs to approach before some other man offers a helping hand. The last thing Joel needs is to bury another goddamn prick on your behalf. You should be thanking Joel, really.

But he understands, you don’t know. You’re vulnerable, completely none the wiser to the fact that a man that mowed your lawn once a fortnight, had managed to peep through your bathroom window and caught a glance of your bare skin while you were showering.

Unaware that anyone was watching you groan again in frustration, about ready to pull your hair out. “Why the hell is this happening to me today?!”

“Excuse me, miss?” A well recognised Southern, Texan accent calls out to you with a hint of amusement and curiosity. Turning around, the man was closer than you’d expected.

“You need something?” Perhaps you were snappier than you should’ve been, and he raises a singular eyebrow at you.

“I’m sorry. I just.. need help with this. Pain in the ass. I have cold stuff and it’s hot as shit out here!” You ramble incessantly to the man who just tilts his head.

As he steps forward. “Mind if I give it a try?”

“Good luck to you—“ before you could even finish the scornful sentence the boot was open.

“How did you do that?” Disbelief wavering in your tone.

He shrugs, folding his arms over his chest, the shirt tightens and the muscles in his arms bulge. A fitting distraction to keep your eyes away from the fact that he had just sneakily attached a tracking tab onto your car. Underneath the number plate.

Now, he already knew your home address. But he had to make sure that you weren’t seeing anyone.

You were certain he had caught you staring. “These older models have a few minor issues, I learnt that working on my own truck, I suppose.”

Now that were true. But he wouldn’t really tell you the reason he knew how to fix this particular issue.

“What’s your name anyway?”

He starts packing your groceries into the now open boot, a few bags in each hand at a time.

The veins in his forearms protrude out of the skin.

“Joel. Joel Miller.”

Once he’s finished packing your groceries away, he closes the boot. “Shouldn’t have no more issues with it.”

You raise a brow. “You’re not gonna ask my name?”

He doesn’t want to, because he already knows it.

He almost laughs, almost. “What is your name, miss?”

When you reply with your name, he doesn’t at all seem phased, which was odd. “You kinda look familiar, actually.”

He keeps a calm expression, looking around the carpark as he gives a warm smile. “I live around here. Do contracting for a lot of houses around town.”

He could’ve felt his gut drop in that moment, maybe you’d figured him out. Perhaps you were about to call him out on what he’s been doing, sneaking around your goddamn house at night, sabotaging the boot so that it wouldn’t open properly.

Perhaps if that were the worst case scenario, he would just have to whack you on the head and shove you into the boot of your little car and drive you to his house. Chain you up and explain that he’s not a bad guy, he just cares for you. No one else cares for you like he does.

Thankfully, it doesn't come to that, because you’re clueless, really. It’s sad to see that you don’t protect yourself. If Joel could get away with all of this unseen. Imagine the real creeps that would take advantage of you.

Joel had been creating all of these minor issues for you, so that you would perhaps seek him out if he happened to.. by chance.. be nearby.

Come to think of it, there was a white pickup that had some sort of business name on the side of it. Been around your street a few times this week, actually. Perhaps he’s got work in the area?

Ain’t really your business to ask though.

“Yeah, I suppose. Thanks anyway, for this.. I should get home now. Don’t want all the dairy and meat to spoil.”

By now you really should be leaving.. but you feel compelled to give the helpful man your number.

“Maybe I can thank you properly one day for lending a hand.”

You quickly scribble it down on the back of your long docket and hand it to him.

“I’ll contact you,” albeit a simple response, he vows to you.

He takes the half crumpled paper with your number and nods with a warm smile, watching you as you get into your car and thank him again through the window before driving off.

A grim smile on his wicked lips as he watches the car leave the parking lot, knowing that even now, as you left, he would know where you were.

Because where you were, Joel was always following close behind. He did, after all.. think you were perfect. The missing piece of the puzzle to his family. The right woman to give his daughter a caring, loving mother. And you—would be his wife. Joel was taking all the steps necessary to ensure it.

He would have he perfect family. He would have you.

Finally, with the number in hand, he was one step closer.

[cherry-pop-elf]

He Goes To Another School, I Swear!

Viktor Krum x Reader

With surprise appearance of best friends Golden Trio!

Sum: You always told everyone your boyfriend was Viktor Krum. Of course no one believed you, even with letters from him. Made you a massive target for bullying. Especially for your looks on why ‘anyone in general’ wanted you. Look at their faces when the Tri Wizard Tournament comes.

Warnings: Bullying, Viktor being the biggest himboist sweetheart ever, long distance relationships

“So how’s your ‘boyfriend’ doing? Hm~?” A girl would cackle at you, before throwing a bread roll at your face. Socked you in the nose. Wasn’t like it hurt, but the intent that she wanted it to was what made that sweet biscuit sting.

No one ever believed you that you said Viktor was your boyfriend. All except Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Made sense they would. Harry bloody potter was all three of your’s best friend. They knew you wouldn’t lie, and were there at the Quidditch Cup.

Who do you think was able to give them all free tickets?

Ron, ever the one to defend his friends, was soon standing up. Ready to throw a full on breakfast at the girl, but Hermione had to yank him back down. As if they needed to lose points, but also she needed to distract her own hands from punching someone all the same. She was a lot more subtle with her rage.

“Just ignore them. They are looking for a fight. Don’t give them the time of day.” Harry would try and comfort you, but damn it gets under your skin. You know you shouldn’t care, that they are just bullies. But it’s still a lot to handle. It makes you go crazy. The human brain can only handle so much. Even with the truth is right there, a million lies can bury everything.

Made you lose your appetite. Not even Fred and George’s latest candy inventions could perk you up.

But Dumbledore could.

“Attention everyone, we have a grand announcement to make! This is the year of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. This is also the year that we have been given the grand honor of hosting it here to Hogwarts. Please, everyone, give a roaring applause to the schools that come.”

That had you perk up a bit. You remember Viktor talking about the tournament. You knew he would try and join. He was such a strong, determined, man. Oh your man was perfect in so many ways. Just so kind, loyal, sweet, sensitive, you could go on for hours about him.

But any chance you could, those damn bullies would step in to fight it.

Said bullies were still being annoying, as the Headmaster would tell everyone to give a warm welcome to Durmstrang. Making mocking kissing faces at you, as they cleaned up their makeup. Wanting to look their best. Just made your blood boil, until you heard the doors open.

There you saw him.

Viktor was leading the parade, next to his headmaster, with an expression that could kill. Face stern, cold, and hard. A man that was ready for war. Had all the girls, and guys, just swooning at such raw power he would display to everyone. This being of pure muscle and fight. Truly what a solider is envisioned.

That’s until his eyes locked with yours.

His face was so quick to soften, and a smile broke through the mask of intimidation. Just this childlike glee was filling those dark eyes, and making them come alive. He was so happy to see you. He nearly stumbled over himself, as he was distracted. Had to get a fellow student to bump his hip to get him back in line.

You couldn’t help yourself in a giggle.

Oh how you couldn’t tear your eyes off him, and how he struggled to focus on his performance. Trying so hard to not let you keep him from his calculated movements. It’s hard though. He was utterly smitten by you, after all. He just couldn’t stop throwing eyes your way.

Shame that your bullies were also in that same direction, and figured his puppy dog eyes were for them.

You couldn’t even pay attention to the girls from that French school come in. Your eyes were meant for Viktor, and his yours. It was all returned in his gesture. Smiling, and just utterly drunk in love for you. Oh how his body itched to move away from where he stood. To come your way and sweep you off your feet.

But a solider does what a solider is ordered.

“Please welcome your new fellow students with open arms, everyone. Treat them as you would with your own. Enjoy your dinner everyone. Be kind, be respectful, and be what you are. Students.” Dumbledore would finish, as Mr. Karkaroff finally dismissed the students.

The way he bolted was truly a statement to his seeker abilities.

“VIKTOR-! WHERE ARE YOU GOING?! VIKTOR-!” His fellow Durmstrang students would laugh, as they were very well aware of his pure excitement. His adrenaline just rushing to finally get to you. And NO ONE would get in his way.

Out right said ‘fuck walking around the tables’ he JUMPED from one table to another. Caused quite a scene, and show, but it was entertaining to say the least.

He hadn’t seen you in person in so long. Even the Quidditch Cup wasn’t enough. Could only watch him from the stands, before the Death Eaters showed up. Ruined any chances of you two to hold hands.

Not today.

“INCOMING-!” Harry shouted, as the golden trio made sure to get out of the way. Just in time for you to pretty much be tackled, and scooped into his strong arms. Lifted high into the air like a ballerina, before into a swooping dip. Just so full of kisses.

You swore if he had warn lipstick your face would end up a solid shade.

“VICKY! We’re in public! These are my classmates!” You cackled, as he just wouldn’t stop kissing you. You swore he traded breathing for kisses in that moment. Just unable to let you go, and kept you in a grip like no other. Just kisses, hugs, and Bulgarian chants of pure love.

Your bullies sure were left dropping their goblets at the sight.

“Breathe man, breathe-!” Ron shouted, as he patted the seeker’s back. Just all a cackle with your friends. With Hermione herself smirking, and possibly flipping the assholes off, as Viktor finally calmed down enough to function. Sorta.

You were still in his iron grip, as he snuggled you close. His head buried in your neck, as he kept whispering about how much he missed you and loved you. It was just endless affection, and you were so happy to get it.

“You are playing this up, aren’t you?” You whispered to him, as he gave a deep chuckle into your flesh. Had a shiver run down your body, as he laced his fingers with yours. There to compare hands.

“What? Me? Pretend to act a certain way in the public eye for the paparazzi and reporters to eat up? Never.” He would play his sarcasm well, before he planted another sweet kiss to your cheek. Just left you so giggly, as you two finally sat down. Well, more so you snuggled in his lap as he kept praising you in affection.

The students at Hogwarts sure learned a valuable lesson that day.

Don’t fuck with someone who has a Durmstrang boyfriend.

[austinbutlerslovers]

Obsession

Label Mature 18+

Summary Betrothed to Feyd-Rautha, the dark and terrifyingly handsome Na-Baron of Giedi Prime, you should be filled with fear, instead you are obsessed with him.

Harkonnen wedding traditions are brutal and cruel, a series of tests meant to prove your undying obedience yet you find yourself giving everything on your wedding night to ensure you are his one true Baroness.

🚨 Depraved Smut 🚨 foreplay•Dune style stimulation devices•temporary restraints •ovulation stimulator •breeding kink•multiple interchanged sex positions•multiple orgasms

🔗 Masterlist

📖 Proof Reader @purejasmine 🫦 Smut Consult @burnthheparaphilia 🩸slight mention of blood, Feyds from a chalice for the wedding

Yes 🤤 the unnatural obsession with Feyd is so real

Obsession

Your heart raced as the shuttle descended through the thick, polluted clouds of Geidi Prime, the dark, industrial planet that would soon be your new home. The vast, mechanical landscape stretched below, black and gray, a dystopian sprawl where nothing grew naturally. It was stark, oppressive, and utterly foreign to you, just like the man you were about to marry.

Feyd Rautha Harkonnen. The name alone made your pulse quicken. He was dark, enigmatic, and dangerous, whispered about in terror. The nephew of Baron Vladimir Harkonnen, Feyd was next in line to become the Baron himself, a title that would grant him dominion over the cruel, shadowed world of Geidi Prime and all who lived under his rule.

You had heard of him long before you ever saw him in person. The stories reached your ears like venom, laced with fear and awe. Even on your distant homeworld, far from the brutal politics of Giedi Prime, Feyd’s reputation preceded him.

He was a figure of dark fascination, a Harkonnen prince known for his ruthlessness in the gladiatorial arena and his cunning in the shadows of the political court. But it wasn’t until the day you saw him with your own eyes that the name took on a new, enticing meaning.

The Harkonnens had come to broker a deal with your ruling family, a subtle tightening of their grip over your people. Your father, proud and stern, had never been one to show emotion, but even he couldn’t mask the strain this decision was putting on him.

The meeting was held in the grand hall of your father’s palace. You were present but only as an observer, careful not to draw attention to yourself.

The Baron sat smugly in his chair, Feyd standing just behind him, a dark figure of quiet menace. Every so often, your eyes would dart to Feyd, stealing glances at the way he held himself with a confidence that bordered on arrogance.

His sharp features, the cold intensity in his eyes, but that alone had been enough to stir something dangerous within you.

This was the final and longest of several negotiations, and you could see the tension simmering beneath the surface, the unsaid truths weighing heavily on your father.

He was prepared to give you away as part of this dark, political bargain. The deal had been struck weeks ago, an agreement to cement an alliance with the Harkonnens in exchange for protection and resources…at the cost of your hand in marriage.

Your father’s voice wavered as the meeting wore on. “She is my daughter,” he said, his tone strained. “I want assurances—more than just words.”

The Baron’s smile was a twisted thing, devoid of warmth. “You’ll get what was promised,” he replied, his voice heavy with the weight of unspoken threats. “The bargain is set. There’s no going back now.”

That’s when your father’s voice began to escalate torn between the weight of his obligations no longer able to contain his frustration.

“We made the bargain between our planets, yes,” he said, his voice rising, sharp with anger. “But my daughter is a princess—my daughter—and I will not stand by and watch her be treated like some pawn in your twisted games! I want assurances—real assurances—that she will be unharmed!”

The Baron’s smile deepened with a steely coldness as he clasped his hands together. “This is no place for sentiment,” he interrupted. “You’ve already sold her future. You would do well to remember that.”

That is when the discussion escalated, voices from your father and his advisors rising with every point of contention, their frustration growing louder in the face of the now cackling Baron, and then something shifted. The air grew charged, dangerous, and you could feel it coming before anyone else did.

One of your father’s personal guards, a man known for his loyalty, yet prone to impulsiveness, had stepped too close to Feyd, perhaps provoked by the tension in the room. His words had been a sharp insult against the Harkonnens.

You watched, heart pounding, as Feyd moved faster than anyone expected.

With a fluidity that defied his size, Feyd was upon the guard before anyone could blink.

The guard didn’t even have time to react Feyd’s movements were a blur, brutal, efficient, and terrifyingly precise.

In a heartbeat, he slammed the guards head against the table, his knife pressed to the man’s throat, his eyes alight with a cold controlled fury.

There was no hesitation, no moment of indecision. Feyd had claimed dominance in an instant, the guard left shocked he was now under the threat of death.

Feyds control over the situation was absolute. The room held its breath, waiting for him to make the kill, and for a moment, you thought he would.

The room was silent, the only sound the faint rasps of the guard’s breathing under Feyd’s blade.

But Feyd didn’t kill him. Instead, he leaned in close, his voice low and dangerous as he whispered something in the guard’s ear. Whatever it was, you couldn’t hear it, but the look of sheer terror on the guard’s face told you enough.

Feyd withdrew the blade slowly, deliberately, as though savoring the moment. Then, just as quickly as he had attacked, he stepped back, his face returning to a mask of cold indifference.

You had felt your pulse quicken, excitement rushing through you. There was something about him, his precision, his control, the way he could command a room with nothing more than a glance and a blade.

You had heard tales of his brutality, but seeing it in person was different. It was intoxicating. Where others might have felt fear, you felt something else—something far more dangerous.

It was in that moment, as Feyd stepped away from the trembling guard, his gaze sweeping across the room, that his eyes met yours for the first time. The connection was brief, just a flicker, but it was enough. His lips curved ever so slightly, as he stared at you as if he had already claimed you.

There was no warmth in his gaze, no affection—only the cold certainty that he saw you as his inevitable prize. And yet, the intensity of his focus made it impossible for you to think of anything else. It was almost maddening the way he could make you feel like he already owned you, without ever laying a hand on you and it was the beginning of something darkly inevitable.

He had seen you watching him, and you had seen him for what he truly was, a force of control, of power, of dominance. You had always heard the Harkonnens were dangerous, but it wasn’t until you saw Feyd that day you realized how deeply you craved that danger. And from that moment on, your obsession with him began to grow.

You hadn’t been given a choice in the matter; the day of the marriage ceremony had already been arranged on Giedi Prime.

It was assumed you would be an unwilling captive, terrified of this unhinged manipulative Harkonnen. Everyone warned you to be prepared for the worst, to expect coldness, cruelty—maybe even pain.

But they didn’t know you.

As the shuttle landed, your anticipation only grew, a thrill sparking deep inside you. You were completely obsessed with him now, this future Baron whose reputation was so dark, so cruel. You craved what others feared. And tomorrow, on your wedding night, you would finally be his.

The wedding was a cold, efficient ceremony. The Harkonnen traditions were harsh, foreign to you, but strangely exhilarating.

The current Baron watched carefully, his calculating gaze never leaving you as the guards led you forward to Feyd-Rautha.

The Baron had anticipated seeing you recoil at the sight of his nephew, his cruel sneer already forming as you placed your hand in Feyd’s.

But the excitement that rushed through you as you laid eyes on the tall, imposing Feyd-Rautha was hidden behind a mask of composer. You kept your expression calm, but inside, the thrill of standing next to him, of touching him, surged through you.

You couldn’t wait to be his, your obsession for him building from the moment you laid eyes on him. He was powerful and irresistible, your desire for him deepening with every glance you stole in his direction.

He had barely spoken a word to before the ceremony but his presence sent waves of anticipation through you. He was strong, and intelligent, his angular features making him impossibly attractive in a sinister way.

His blue eyes gleamed with something dark, something dangerous, and you knew instantly you wanted him, all of him, no matter how twisted or cruel he might be.

The procession began at dawn, the sky a sickly red as the first light filtered through the grimy atmosphere of the planet. The ceremonial gown they had chosen for you was unlike any wedding attire you had ever imagined, an artifact of Harkonnen cruelty.

It was not designed for beauty or grace, but to impose dominance, to encase you in the rigid structure of their traditions.

You were sewn into the gown, the black fabric clinging so tightly to your body that it was suffocating in its embrace, your chest the only thing free from the bodice.

The garment was designed to restrain you—to remind you of the life you were about to enter, one ruled by dominance and power.

Feyd, standing at the altar, wore a regal garment, black with crimson accents, the Harkonnen emblem across his chest.

His presence was commanding, his expression cold and unreadable, but you could feel the intensity of his gaze, his claim laid into to you long before the ritual even began.

The ceremony itself was a test, not just of loyalty, but of strength, a series of grueling customs meant to solidify the union between you and the Harkonnen House.

The first was a Blood Oath, an ancient Harkonnen tradition that required both partners to spill their blood as a symbol of their commitment, not just to each other, but to the house itself.

A ceremonial blade was presented to Feyd, its edge gleaming dangerously in the low light of the grand hall.

Feyds blood was the first to be offered,a symbol of his dominance and control, and you felt your breath quicken as you watched.

Feyd sliced a shallow cut across his palm, the dark blood pooling in his hand. There was no hesitation in his gaze, no sign of pain—just the cold, calculated determination you had come to expect from him.

You had known this moment was coming, had steeled yourself for it, and yet when he reached for your hand, the weight of the ritual suddenly became far more real.

Feyd’s grip on your hand was firm, his fingers wrapping around yours pulling your hand over the chalice. The cold steel of the blade brushed against your skin, and Feyds eyes searched yours for any hint of fear or hesitation, but you held his gaze, refusing to look away.

The blade hovered just above your palm, the sharp edge gleaming as Feyd pressed it gently against your skin. You could feel the pressure, the promise of pain, and then, with one swift motion, the blade sliced through the delicate skin of your hand.

The sting was immediate, sharp and precise, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to narrow down to that single point of contact.

You gasped softly, the sound barely audible in the silence of the hall, as warm blood began to trickle from the cut. It slid down your fingers in slow, deliberate streams, mingling with Feyd’s blood as it dripped into the chalice below. The crimson liquid swirled together, yours bright red, his dark and thick, a tangible symbol of the bond you had just forged.

Your heart raced, the steady thrum of it loud in your ears as you locked eyes with Feyd again.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. The weight of what had just transpired settled heavily over you, as though the air itself had thickened.

You were no longer two individuals. You were bound by blood, by ritual, by something far deeper than any wedding ceremony could signify.

Feyd held your gaze a moment longer, the intensity between you almost suffocating, before he finally let go of your hand. The cut still throbbed, the blood still trickled down your skin, but the pain was secondary now— your fate had just been sealed.

The chalice, filled with the mingling blood, was lifted by the Baron as your hands were mended, a cold twisted grin of satisfaction playing at the corners of his lips as he inspected the contents. He swirled the blood together, indistinguishable now, just as your fates had become.

“You are one now,” the Baron rasped, his voice carrying a note of finality. “Bound in blood, as it should be.”

He offered the chalice to Feyd, who drank from it readily, his throat moving as he swallowed. You watched intently, your heartbeat quickening, knowing you were next.

Feyd offered the chalice to you held in both hands. His eyes bore into yours, filled with expectation and a dark intensity, silently urging you to drink. There was something in his gaze—commanding, almost daring—as if he needed to see you do it, to watch you take part in this ritual that bound you to him.

Determined to honor his custom, you took the chalice from his hands into your own and did not look at what you drank, only swiftly bringing the edge to your lips.

Just a swallow—and immediately, you knew Feyd’s blood was different, like ink spreading along your tongue, the metallic taste thick and lingering, refusing to dissipate just like this moment, you would never soon forget.

But it wasn’t enough to simply give your blood.

The next custom was known as the Trial of Chains, an ordeal designed to test your endurance and your willingness to submit to the will of House Harkonnen.

You were led to the center of the hall, where an iron structure loomed—a symbolic relic of Harkonnen dominance. Heavy, dark chains were draped over your arms and shoulders. You were forced to stand, unmoving, while the Baron himself recited a list of oaths you would take.

The weight of the chains grew unbearable with each passing moment, your muscles straining under the pressure, but you knew that showing weakness was not an option.

Every Harkonnen wedding had this trial, a display to prove the new spouse’s fortitude. Failure meant dishonor, and in some cases, death.

As the trial continued, Feyd watched you closely, his eyes scanning your every movement, gauging whether you would falter.

But you did not. Despite the heaviness of the chains, despite the cold sweat that began to form on your brow, you stood still, the weight nothing compared to the determination to please him.

By the time the Baron finished the oaths, you felt as though the chains had become a part of you—symbols of the power and control you had willingly accepted.

The last and most chilling custom was The Binding of the Will, a psychological test unique to the Harkonnen lineage.

A dark room was prepared beneath the Grand Hall, filled with a hypnotic scent that that made your lungs feel heavy with every breath.

A veil was placed upon your head, its fabric heavy and oppressive. It was made from a black intricate fabric that seemed to shimmer faintly in the low light. It was woven with delicate, sinister patterns—symbols of submission, of ancient power.

The weight of the veil was almost suffocating, obscuring your vision slightly, casting everything around you in a dim, distorted haze.

You could feel its texture against your skin, cold and unyielding, a physical reminder of the role you were about to play.

You were made to kneel on a white cold stone altar, your knees resting on the unyielding surface as you felt the weight of the veil draped over your head.

Feyd took his place in front of you and you were left alone together in the dimly lit room.

In the heavy silence, you could hear your own shallow breathing, loud and uneven beneath the heavy veil.

Each breath felt more labored, the weight of the ritual and the veil combining to stir a slight panic in your chest.

For a brief moment, it felt overwhelming—the room, the ritual, the weight of the fabric that seemed to trap you in place. But then, through the haze of the veil, you caught sight of Feyd’s eyes.

He was watching you, his gaze almost reverent for what you had endured, and that look alone—anchored you to him.

His hand reached for yours, lightly tracing his finger along your outstretched palm.

It was something you somehow knew was against tradition, against his customs, and yet you couldn’t help but smile at him, utterly enamored.

He met your eyes, and there was a flicker of satisfaction in them, a possessive gleam that held you in place. Then, just as quickly, his hand slipped away, clasped behind his back.

The doors to the room slowly opened as an ancient Harkonnen master entered draped in a cloak of shadows.

In his hands he held a metal prism. His movements were slow and paced, his form almost blending into the darkness that surrounded him.

He approached Feyd offering him the prism without a word which Feyd accepted with reverence bringing it to his forehead before lowering it to his chest.

It was an old relic ancient even, passed down through generations of Harkonnens, The dark, polished surface gleamed under the low light.

Feyd then brought the prism toward you and under your veil. His hand was steady as he pressed a hidden mechanism. With a soft click, the panels unfolded and a cloud of smoke plumed from it.

You tried not to inhale it, but the smoke found its way into your lungs thick and sweet with every shallow breath.

Slowly a warmth began to seep into your veins, spreading inch by inch through your body, a creeping sensation, as though something dark was settling inside you, rooting itself deep within.

You softly gasped as everything around you blurred, the room seeming to shift and warp before your eyes, becoming both infinite and claustrophobic all at once.

Your limbs grew heavy, but your mind floated away, detached from the physical weight of your body.

The air was no longer suffocating but welcoming, each breath drawing you deeper into a dreamlike haze.

Feyd watched you closely until your head lulled your eyes fluttering, then he closed the lid removing the prism.

The master began speaking a series of words in a language you didn’t recognize, words that held a strange, almost hypnotic power.

The words, when spoken, worked deep into your mind, attempting to root out your fears, your weaknesses, and plant a binding suggestion that you would never defy the will of your husband, nor the Harkonnen family.

This binding wasn’t meant to break your spirit completely, but rather to tether it—making sure that, while you might fight or resist, you would always come back, always remain under his control.

The master’s voice was a low, droning chant, and with every word, you felt an eerie surge of calm settle over you, as though the very air was wrapping around your mind, coaxing it to bend.

By the end of the ritual, you felt a strange sense of liberation and captivity.

You had passed every test, met every challenge. You had shown them that you were worthy to stand beside Feyd Rautha, but in doing so, you had also surrendered a part of yourself to the darkness that was the Harkonnen legacy.

As the ceremony concluded, Feyd stepped toward you, the cold, calculating look in his eyes replaced with something deeper, more genuine. He took your hands in his, and though the touch was possessive, you felt a connection, a burning energy between you.

The Baron watched from the shadows as Feyd removed the veil, his lips curling into a twisted smile. You had passed the tests and now you belonged to Feyd-Rautha, bound by blood, chains, and will.

As you walked together from the hall, the dark traditions of the Harkonnen now coursing through your veins, you realized you had entered their world, and you would never leave it.

The moment the heavy doors of the ceremonial mating chambers closed behind you, the air between you shifted, the atmosphere thickening with unspoken tension.

Feyd’s eyes bore into you, calculating what he do with you now that you were alone.

His dark gaze made your pulse quicken, and you could feel the anticipation thrumming through your veins.

“You enjoyed the ceremony, didn’t you?” Feyd’s voice asks with a low rasp, as he took a slow step toward you, his strong frame towering over yours.

“You are the first bride to complete it,” he reveals, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction.

You meet his gaze without flinching, though a strange haze clouds your thoughts, a light sweat dampening your skin.

Whatever they had given you during the ceremony still lingers in your body, making everything feel distant and sharp all at once.

Your heart races with your limbs feeling heavy and light at the same time but a dangerous, daring look flickers in your eyes.

“Maybe I am not like most brides.” You respond the words slipping from your lips.

A wicked smile tugs at the corner of Feyds lips with intrigue. “No, I suppose you’re not,” he says, his eyes dark with something unspoken as he watches you, his gaze lingering on the subtle glisten of your skin.

He moves closer, his hand suddenly gripping your chin, tilting your head up to meet his eyes.

His touch is firm, possessive, his fingers cold against your skin, but it only makes you crave more.

“Do you know what’s expected of you tonight?” he asks, his voice low and dark, watching the way your eyes flutter slightly under the heavy weight of opium coursing through your veins from the ritual.

You nod, your breath catching in your throat. “Yes.”

Something flickers in Feyd’s eyes—interest, surprise—and a slight grin forms at the corner of his lips.

“On your knees,” he says, his voice low and commanding. His tone leaves no room for hesitation, and your legs move of their own accord, sinking into the cold black stone floor beneath you.

Feyd takes his time, circling you , assessing you. His footsteps are slow, deliberate, as the anticipation increases within you, your skin prickling with both fear and excitement.

“You think you understand what tonight is,” he muses, stopping behind you. His fingers sliding into your hair, pulling gently at first, then sharply enough to yank your head back making you cry out.

“Pleasure and pain” he says softly releasing your hair. “Because only through one can you fully experience the other.”

Your heart races as he leaves your side, pressing a button that makes a sleek ledge rise from the floor. When it reaches the desired height, a lid slides back, revealing several items on its surface.

You can’t see what he’s selecting, but the soft clink of metal makes your breath catch in your throat, sending a wave of anticipation coursing through you.

He returns, standing before you once more, and in his hands, he holds two items—one, a smooth handled device with a phallic tip that that glints menacingly in the dim light, and the other, a small, polished stone that pulses with a faint, white inner glow.

His lips curl into a smirk as he crouches down to meet your eye level.

“Do you know what these are?” he asks the question rhetorical as you look at each object.

“No” you breathe looking up to him.

“These will show me everything I need to know about you—how much you can take before you break.” He grins.

He manipulates the handled phallic device turning it on with a quiet hum that makes your nerves tingle. Without warning, he lifts your gown pressing the phallic tip between your legs against your clit, its vibrations intense and immediate.

Your body jerks at the sensation, your muscles tightening against the onslaught of stimulation. Feyd’s eyes darken as he watches you struggle to maintain control, your hips rocking as you begin to give in.

“You will stay still,” he commands, his voice laced with authority. “No matter how much you want to move, you will stay right here until I say otherwise.”

You stifle yourself as the device steadily hums against you, its pulsing rhythm sending waves of pleasure through your body teasing the edges of your desire, leaving you aching for more.

Feyd watches every twitch of your body, every slight movement of your hips as you try, unsuccessfully, to remain still, enduring the pleasure. His eyes gleam with sadistic delight, savoring your frustration as your arousal drips from the device onto the floor.

You want to scream in pleasure, and just when you think you can’t handle any more, Feyd reaches for the glowing stone. The warmth radiating from it as he places it against your chest where it remains in place without his touch.

A sudden, electric current emits from the stone, shooting through your chest, igniting every nerve ending in your body. It is unlike anything you have ever felt before —and the dual stimulation of pleasure and pain begins to overwhelm your senses.

The vibrations from the device meld with the energy from the stone, sending jolts of pleasure and pain coursing through your body. Your muscles tense and weaken under the unrelenting stimulation, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as each wave of sensation builds, layer upon layer, until you’re trembling in desperation.

“Not yet,” Feyd whispers as his hands finally began to roam over your body. His fingers grazing your constricting gown with approval, amplifying the sensation of the two forces at work within you. He is testing you, pushing you to the edge, but will not allow you to fall.

His hand grasps your chin tilting your face upwards to meet his eyes. “You’re mine, and tonight, you’ll learn what that means.” He says looking at you with a grin, his black smile so seductive you involuntarily moan for him.

He twists the handled device between your legs, forcing the phallus inside of you. The onslaught of pleasure is relentless, its rhythm changing every time you think you might get used to the intensity.

The stone on your chest begins sending sharper pulses of pain through you, alternating with the vibrations, each shock more intense than the last.

You try to stay still, try to obey, but your body starts betraying you. Your hips move involuntarily with the device, and a low tsk from Feyd tells you he has noticed and is displeased.

His hand is suddenly in your hair, yanking your head back, his other hand pressing the stone harder against your chest, making the sensation intolerable as you wince in pain.

“If you come you will be punished ” he rasps darkly, his voice sharp in the silence of the room.

“But if you last I will please you greatly.” He says releasing the stones intensity. “But until then, you will endure” he commands.

His words send a fresh wave of desire coursing through you, the challenge in his tone igniting something deep within. His test pushing you, daring you to prove yourself to him.

His hand begins to stroke your chin as you look up to him tears brimming your eyes faint cries rolling from your lips as you endure.

He revels in your torment, the way your body does not react to what he knows is agonizing you in the most pleasurable way.

The sensations start to become too much, your entire body feels as if it’s on fire, each pulse from the stone, each vibration from the device driving you closer and closer to the edge of madness as a startling sound rips from your throat.

And then, as if knowing you are breaking, Feyd yanks the stone from your chest, now intensely glowing red as you fall to the floor gasping and trembling.

The metallic device still pulses inside of you, amplifying only the pleasure which now floods your body and the intensity is unlike anything you’ve ever felt—so extreme it feels like it’s tearing through you.

Unable to hold back any longer, you feel your body finally give in. Every muscle tightens as your thighs tremble uncontrollably and a shudder runs through as you gasp against the floor.

Feyd watches you closely, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction as you come, your body quivering until you finally go limp, completely spent.

He waits for a moment, savoring the sight of you laid before him, your chest rising and falling as you pant, utterly drained.

Then, with deliberate slowness, he reaches for the handle of the device, gripping it firmly.

His movements are controlled and methodical, as he pulls it out of you, the sound of it leaving your body echoes in the stillness of the room, the slick, drenched surface glistening under the low light.

You lie there, weak and breathless, every nerve in your body still on fire from the intensity of what you’ve just experienced.

Feyd slowly grabs a blade from the table, his eyes never leaving yours as he kneels over you, the cold steel gleaming menacingly in his grasp.

The sight of the blade sends a shiver of anticipation through you as Feyd brings it closer to your body, his smile dark and dangerous. His hand traces the lines of the dress, sewn tightly against you, a symbol of the Harkonnen dominance.

“This dress was made to bind you,” he rasps, the blade gleaming in his hand. “When I cut you free, you are mine entirely.” He reveals as he lowers the blade.

His movements are deliberate, calculated, and when the sharp edge of the blade touches the fabric of your gown, you can feel your heart beat quicken.

With a slow, precise motion, he drags the blade through the fabric, the sound of tearing cloth echoing in the stillness of the room.

The gown gives way easily under the sharp edge, the fabric splitting open in precise lines that expose your skin inch by inch. He carves through the material with deliberate precision, freeing you from its confines.

As the last of the gown falls away, you inhale deeply, no longer constricted by the fabric that bound you, the cool air of the room inviting against your bare skin.

Every inch of you is exposed to Feyd, the sensation sharp and invigorating, heightening the awareness of your vulnerability beneath him.

Feyd smirks as he looks down at you, his blade in hand, fully aware of the power he holds over you.

His eyes linger on your nakedness, and you can see the way his desire intensifies, the subtle shift in his expression betraying how aroused he is.

His gaze travels over you with an almost possessive satisfaction, taking in every inch of you knowing you are his to command.

“I will breed you now,” he says, his fingers brushing your skin, just lightly enough to drive you mad. “And you will come for me many times before dawn.”

He stands over you, his dominance absolute, his eyes never leaving yours as he places the blade upon the table.

He removes his ceremonial garments, pulling and unclasping each piece from his body until he’s fully revealed. Beneath the dim light, the chiseled lines of his physique are striking—each muscle sharply defined, his body sculpted with raw strength and power.

His broad shoulders and chest taper down to a trim waist, the smooth, hairless perfection of his skin highlighting the contours of his abs and the hard lines of his arms.

His pale skin gleams under the dim light, his presence is overwhelming, his body a masterpiece of raw strength and dominance.

Your gaze travels down his body, exploring every inch with growing anticipation. When your eyes settle on the impressive size of his cock, you are filled with awe. The pink tip stands proudly from the thick, veined length of his shaft, and you can’t help but feel a surge of reverence, even honor, knowing that he intends to claim you.

Feyd is a force—ruthless, calculating, powerful and the knowledge that you now belong to him fills you with anticipation and desire.

He takes your arms, pulling you from the floor with a firm grip, and presses you down onto the cold, smooth surface of the mating altar.

The slick texture beneath your back sends a shiver through you, amplifying your sense of submission and vulnerability.

Without a word, he grasps your ankle, guiding it into a stirrup, securing it firmly before doing the same with the other.

Your legs are spread apart, knees bent, leaving you completely vulnerable to him. The air feels heavy as Feyd stands before you, his gaze dark and possessive, ready to take what is his.

His hand trails down your body, possessive and slow. “Tonight, you’ll know exactly what it means to belong to me,” he muses, his voice laced with dark promise.

Without breaking his gaze from yours, he presses a button, opening a small compartment on the panel at the foot of the alter pulling out a sleek syringe.

It faintly glows as he dispenses a translucent gel onto his fingers, the substance shimmering slightly in the dim light.

Feyds eyes are dark and calculating, as he slowly reaches between your legs, his fingers moving with deliberate precision.

His touch is cold at first, the gel slick as it coats his fingers, and with a slow, measured motion, he begins to slick it along your folds, his fingers tracing with meticulous care.

Feyd smirks as he softly spreads the gel between your legs, his eyes dark and calculating. “A special preparation, designed to ensure the legacy.” He says pressing his fingers against your entrance.

Then without hesitation he pushes his fingers inside of you, the gel cool and slick heightening every sensation.

“The Harkonnen lineage demands results,” he says, his tone filled with authority, “and I will make sure you fulfill that role.”

He slowly glides them deeper into you, the gel’s slickness easing their penetration. He watches you closely, his expression unreadable as his fingers move with a precision that makes you fully aware this is only the beginning of what he has planned.

His fingers reach a depth that makes you instinctively tighten around him, then he pushes slightly further, finding that perfect place as sudden a gentle ache begins pulsing on both sides of your core.

He pulls his fingers back possessively, his eyes locking onto yours.

“Another night, I will waste you entirely this way,” he says, his voice low and commanding. “But tonight is ensuring you belong to me, body, mind, and future.” He reveals his gaze deep with determination at the thought of owning every part of you.

The wedding night has only just begun, and already, you are his—completely and utterly his to control.

He runs his hands affectionately down your trapped legs, the touch unexpectedly soft, savoring the moment. His fingers trail along your skin, leaving a path of warmth in their wake, before he grips your legs firmly, holding them in place.

“You will fulfill your role as Baroness” he says with a slow, deliberate motion as he settles between your legs his weight pressing down on you.

“Your body will serve me in ways that will bind you to me forever.” he says almost to himself as his fingertips slowly trail along your cheek.

His gaze is deep, penetrating, as if he’s looking into your very soul, claiming you before a single word is spoken.

You reach up, grabbing hold of Feyd’s neck pulling him down, your lips pressing against his in a heated desperate kiss.

The boldness of your action surprises him, a low sound of approval escaping his throat as your body presses against his, your breaths mingling together.

You kiss him harder, your fingers digging into his neck, your desperation undeniable. “Now,” you whisper between breaths, “I want—I want all of you, now Feyd”

Feyd pulls back slightly, a wicked grin spreading across his face, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction.

“You will have all of me, and more than you know how to handle.” he rasps, his voice certain.

Then, without another word, he positions himself, his cock hard and heavy in his hand as he strokes it, squeezing to the tip until pre-cum beads at the slit.

The intensity in his gaze never leaves yours as he takes his time pressing his large cock into you. He’s agonizingly slow, making sure you feel every ridge, every vein as your body stretches around him.

You moan in pleasure your grasp tightening onto his neck “Yes,” you breathe out, your voice trembling as he pushes deeper, “yes, yes,” the words slipping from your lips as he begins to thrust into you, the fullness of his cock overwhelming in its size exactly what you craved.

His grin only deepens as he takes you, savoring the moment, “I thought you’d resist…—fight against your new role…—but here you are, begging for it.” He says on every push of his hips.

“Yes,” you breathe, barely able to contain the rush of sensation. “Yes, I want it.”

His smirk deepens, black teeth gleaming as he sets a relentless pace into you.

Your vision blurs, the room spinning as your mind struggles to process the sheer intensity of what’s happening.

The wedding night is unlike anything you had imagined, and yet, it was everything you craved.

Feyd was unhinged, just as they had warned you: possessive, controlling, his thrusts rough and intoxicating, every part of your body fulfilled, pushing you to your limits.

Your moans of his name are so loud he thinks he is breaking you, pushing you too far, but he didn’t know you.

Every time he pushes harder, you revel it, moaning his name, craving more. The harder he breeds you, the more you respond, your body meeting his every thrust, your breathless gasps filling the room.

Feyd’s eyes widen as he realizes what is happening—that you are in pleasure, as unhinged as he is, that you crave the same intensity he does. A grin spreads across his face, wild and dangerous and he leans in, pressing his lips to your ear.

“You enjoy this, don’t you?” he whispers, his voice rough with desire.

“Yes,” you gasp, your nails digging into his back, pulling him closer. “I want more Feyd.”

Something shifts in him hearing those words, his expression darkening with pleasure. He grips your wrists, pinning them above your head as he looms above you, his breath hot and heavy.

“You’re more resilient than I thought,” he reveals with a grin his voice filled with both awe and approval.

“I will give you what you desire” he says his eyes gleaming with a twisted satisfaction, as if this unexpected strength only fuels his desire to push you further.

He watches you with a heated, intense gaze, his eyes dark with hunger as his hips snap forward, driving his deepest inside you.

The world narrows to just that moment—the raw, intensifying pleasure that feels too much, too good.

Each thrust after sends shockwaves through your body, and you can feel yourself unraveling, the sensation in your veins too powerful to contain.

Your breaths catch as your mouth opens in desperate moan, your eyes locking with Feyd, the way he takes you wracking your body in ways you never thought possible.

The sensation is dizzying, overwhelming, pushing you right to the edge of sanity. You can barely think, your mind clouded, altered, willing to surrender everything just to have more of him, more of this.

He continues to thrust his hardest, the force of his cock sending a tidal wave of ecstasy that crashes through, leaving you trembling, breathless.

Your body can no longer keep up with the intensity, and every nerve is on fire as you fall, completely undone, spiraling into bliss as everything inside you clenches tight, then releases in a flood of sensation that leaves you gasping.

Feyd feels you clenching on him as he stares into your eyes watching a strangled moan escape your lips, your body shaking as you come.

As your walls tighten around him, his control wavers, his face softening with a raw, unguarded intensity. His hands grip you tighter, fingers digging into your skin as if anchoring himself to keep from completely falling apart. A low, primal sound emits from his throat, rough and strained, as he fights to maintain control.

You look up into his eyes, meeting that fierce, possessive gaze, and in that instant, something shifts. The warmth of his come spreads deep inside you, filling you with a sense of completeness that takes your breath away. You gasp, the moment overwhelming, binding you to him in a way words could never convey.

His hold tightens further, a silent claim, sealing the connection between you, leaving no doubt that you are his—now and always.

Before the aftershocks have even faded, you already crave him again, desperate for more, for him to fill you and take you over and over again until there’s nothing left but pleasure.

“-Please…” you beg him feeling the heat in your body remain.

Feyd chuckles, low and dark, his voice heavy with satisfaction as his lips brush against your ear, “I’ve completely wrecked you… and you still want more.” His hand cups your face, forcing your eyes to meet his, the smirk on his lips wicked.

“You’d do anything, for me wouldn’t you?” He asks pulling his cock back, just enough to make you feel the loss. “And I’m just getting started.”

The night continues, a blur of pleasure and pain, of control and surrender. Feyd pushes you further than you thought possible your obsession with him deepening with every new position.

He releases you from your restraints flipping onto your front and taking you again, his hands pinning your arms to the mat. The tension between his grip and the rhythm of his thrusts building until you come, trembling beneath him.

He pulls you back on your hands and knees his hand firmly at the back of your neck pressing your face into the mat. His hips driving into you from behind, each thrust harder than the last, until he finally comes satisfied with his release deep within you.

He brings you on all fours his fingers teasing your clit to work you faster as you push back against him until you come together.

He pulls you into his lap, hands cupping your breasts his mouth drawing new waves of pleasure from your core as he leans in to suck on each one. You ride him hard, feeling the heat between you growing until you shatter in his arms.

And as the night goes on, position after position you realize he is just as obsessed with you as you are with him.

He has found someone who can match his intimacy, someone who craves the same things he does, and it thrills him to no end.

By the time dawn breaks over the cold, industrial landscape of Geidi Prime, you lay together, your bodies spent, his arm draped possessively over you. His eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he looks down at you, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin.

“You surprised me,” he says, his voice softer now more affectionate. “I didn’t think you could handle me. But you did… and more.”

You smile, feeling a sense of victory, of pride. “I told you… I am not like most brides.”

Feyd chuckles, his lips brushing against your temple. “You will make a fine Baroness for me.” He says, with a deep sense of satisfaction.

“I will have you as my Baron many times,” you whisper, the words sending a thrill through you. You had craved him, all of him—his strength, his control, his darkness. And now, you had it.

Feyd smiles down at you, his fingers brushing along your hair. “Good.” He says his voice a dark satisfied rasp. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

⚔️END ⚔️

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