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heartshapedmisery · 2 days

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𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐩 | art donaldson

summary ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ art is your tennis coach, but after he tells you to "loosen up" a bit, you're not sure if your boundaries are strictly professional anymore.

warnings ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ MINORS DNI ! ( 18+ ) | language, graphic smut, unprotected sex ( wrap it before u tap it y'all ), soft!dom!art, sub!reader, sexual tension, art gives reader a massage, praise kink, p in v sex, fingering, if i missed anything, please let me know!

word count ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ 3.2k +

pairing ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ standford!art donaldson x fem!stanford!reader

author’s note ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ saw challengers the other day .... its all i can think about rn so i made a fic! hope u enjoy! also i know nothing about physical therapy so if this makes no sense I'm sorry

publishing date ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ may 5th, 2024 | © HEARTSHAPEDMISERY

tags ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ @madnessandobsession @hashtagtobefuckinghonest @mitskilover23

A bead of sweat rolled down your temple as your feet carried you quickly across the tennis court, your eyes refusing to leave the bright yellow ball that was coming towards you from the opposite side of the net.

"Keep your eye on the ball, sweetheart!" Art barked, a few blonde strands of his hair falling in his eyes as he watched you simply miss the ball once again.

The nickname caught you off guard, dismantling your focus and causing you to falter your movements. Your arm swung out far enough, but your racket was just below the ball, allowing it to fly right over it and hit the concrete behind you. A tinge of pain seared through your right shoulder, making you wince.

"Shit!" You grumbled in annoyance, your eyes refusing to meet Art's since you knew he would scold you for your miss.

You threw the racket in your hand down at your feet, irritated that you hadn't kept the ball going back and forth between you and Art for more than 2 times in your last 5 tries.

Your mind was somewhere else; normally you were a beast on the court, dominating your competition (all thanks to Art). Today, not so much.

"What was that, the 6th time?" Art scoffed, waving his racket about in the air. "What's wrong with your shoulder?" he pointed his racket in your direction, a look of concern written on his face.

You didn't answer him, walking off the court over to the bench and grabbing your water bottle. He followed you, taking the bottle from your hand when you were done and squirting the liquid into his mouth. Your eyes watched him carefully, following the water droplets as a few fell from the corner of his mouth.

"You're tense, I can see it all over you when you're moving around out there," he said, motioning to your shoulders and neck. Your eyes caught the way his polo clung to his toned chest, sweat starting to seep through from his constant movement.

"I'm fine," you told him, shrugging his words off. "Just a little distracted, is all."

A lopsided grin cracked across his face, not buying your excuses.

"Come here," he motioned for you to move towards him, which you hesitantly responded to before walking to him. Carefully, his hands grabbed your shoulders and spun you around, your back meeting his front harsher than you had expected.

Your heartbeat quickly picked up, the feeling of his hands on your bare shoulders felt hot and heavy on your skin.

This wasn't the first time Art has caught you off guard like this. You had noticed over the past few months how touchy he could be, whether he was correcting your form or bidding you good job after a match with a rub on the back.

And no matter how much you denied it, you couldn't help but love every second of it. Despite being your coach, he had an effect on you that no one else did. He drove you wild, but of course, he never realized that.

At least, you thought he didn't.

"Your shoulders are very tight, especially your right one. That's why you're not getting a lot of movement," he spoke softly in your ear, his fingers running up the sides of your arms before finally gripping your shoulders. His fingers squeezed your flesh gently, burning against your skin enough to make you let out a sigh he undoubtedly heard.

"You need to loosen up a little bit, sweetheart. All this stress is messing you up, and we can't have that." his voice was smooth and sultry, a total contrast to what it had been only moments before on the court.

His fingers kneaded at the muscles at the top of your back, working out all of the kinks and knots that inhabited your shoulders. Your eyes quickly fell shut as you leaned into his touch, getting lost in the feeling of his hands on you.

"Ah," you breathed out, the feeling of his thumb reaching a spot that unraveled the tension in your right shoulder. "Right there."

You couldn't see it, but a wide smile bloomed across his face at your words, his thumb moving to massage the muscle deeper than before. You let out a breath groan, which (as much as he hated to admit it) indubitably went straight to his lower half.

He didn't expect you to be so responsive to his touch. It surprised him, but that didn't mean he was opposed to it.

"Yeah?" He breathed. "Does that feel better?"

He knew exactly what he was doing, even though you were so oblivious to his shenanigans.

"Yes," you groaned, allowing your head to fall back slightly. You breathed in deeply as he continued his work at your muscles, watching you revel in the relief at the top of your back.

To anyone else, his actions only looked like a coach helping his player work out an injury. But to you and Art, this was months of tension finally boiling over. The way his hands worked across your skin, the pleasurable sighs you let out. It was the two of you crossing a boundary you had never expected to abandon.

"Art!" a voice sounded from the opposite side of the court, making your eyes snap open. His hands stopped their movements, but he didn't remove them from your shoulders as he looked over his shoulder at whoever was trying to get his attention.

It was Mike, the Athletic Director at Stanford.

"Mike," he stated, greeting him with a nod. His voice almost sounded disappointed, not appreciating that he had interrupted the two of you. "What can I do you for?"

His hands finally left your shoulders, your skin feeling dull and light from their wake. You quickly snapped yourself back to reality, brushing away the hot feeling in your chest as you watched the exchange between Art and Mike.

"I just have some paperwork for you to fill out for the semester," he said, "Won't take long."

You watched Art's expression lighten, giving him a slight nod before agreeing to meet him in his office and Mike dismissing himself from the court.

Your gaze met Art's as he turned back to grab his gym bag off the bench and slung it over his shoulder. You watched him carefully, before taking your own bag off the bench.

"Put some ice on that shoulder," he pointed to your right side as he slipped his Ray Bans onto his face to shield his eyes from the sun. "I'll come check on it later, okay?"

You nodded, your mind already racing at the thought. You watched him as he walked away from your view, a feeling of excitement and confusion bubbling in your chest.

You didn't see him again until after lunch. You had been wandering around your small apartment in nothing but a tank top and pajama shorts (due to the blistering California heat outside) with a bag of ice taped around your shoulder, trying to keep your mind occupied until Art arrived.

Your afternoon classes had been canceled so you decided to take it easy at home, trying to keep your arm relaxed as much as possible.

When you heard a simple knock at your door, the feeling from earlier that morning had returned, rising in your chest and making your neck hot at the thought of him. He stood nonchalantly at your door when you swung it open, greeting him with a warm smile.

"Hey," you said, moving out of the way to let him in. He sent you a small smile back, following you into your tiny living room.

"How's the shoulder?" he rasped, taking a look at the ice pack on your arm that was starting to leak.

"Pretty good, hasn't really changed much. Still a little sore, though." you told him honestly, still confused as to why you had tweaked it so bad.

"Mind if I take a look at it?" he asked, gently running his hand up the side of your arm. The sensation sent chills down your spine as you nodded simply. He had to stop doing that or else you were going to go crazy.

"Here, sit down between my legs with your back towards me," he motioned to the couch, sitting behind you before moving to remove the athletic tape from the ice pack. You could feel his warmth behind you, his breath hot against your shoulder as he peered at your injury.

Your breath hitched as you felt his finger hook under the right strap of your tank top, your head turning slightly to catch his eye.

"Do you mind if I move this down?" he asked gently, eager to make sure you were okay with him touching you like this. You nodded, a little quicker than you had anticipated.

"Yeah, that's fine," you breathed, before turning back around. Carefully, he pulled the strap down, exposing your bare shoulder to him. Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of his calloused hands against your smooth skin, his fingers slowly beginning to knead at your muscles.

"I feel a lot of tension here still," he told you, his hand gently moving to raise your arm up slightly over your head. You felt a pop in your joints, an instant feeling of relief washing through your shoulder. A breathy moan escaped your lips at the movement, grateful that it felt better already.

"Shit," you breathed, thankful for his skillful hands. "That feels good."

Art let out a breathy laugh, making your heart swell. "Lean back against me, I want to try something."

You followed his instructions, your back meeting his toned chest, sinking into his embrace. The smell of his cologne invaded your senses, making you sigh.

Carefully, he wrapped his arm around your collarbone, his left hand laying flat against the front of your shoulder while his right hand gripped the back of your bicep where your arm met your shoulder.

His hands were slow and gentle but still had you unwinding more with each movement. His left hand gently pushed your shoulder back as his right pushed your arm forward, earning another pop in your joints.

"Oh my god," you groaned under your breath, your hand subconsciously moving to grip his muscular forearm without realizing it.

"That's it, sweetheart," he cooed in your ear as you let out a sigh of relief. "Does that feel better?"

'So much better," you told him honestly, still holding onto his arm. Your eyes quickly fell down to it, an idea circling in your mind before your hand slowly began to move. He watched you carefully, his eyes following your freshly manicured hand moved to settle over his, before carefully moving his hand down your chest.

"But I think I'm still a little tense, Art," you breathed, biting your lip as his fingers ghosted over your hardened nipple before you moved it down further to your abdomen. His mind finally caught on to what you were trying to get at, a sly smirk cracking across his face.

"Could you help me?" you whispered, settling his hand on your lower stomach, dangerously close to where you wanted him most.

He didn't respond, his hand simply moving from underneath yours and allowing his fingers to slip underneath the waistband of your skimpy shorts, your breath hitching. He moved his free hand from your arm and down to your thigh, gently spreading them apart.

You felt him exhale a deep breath, before finally answering your request. "Of course. Anything to help my star player."

His fingers broke the barrier of your panties just as the words left his mouth, dipping into your soaked core without warning. You let out a moan as his lips pressed gentle kisses to your bare shoulder before moving up your neck and settling just below your ear.

His middle and ring fingers played at your clit, rubbing it gently before dipping back into you, curling his fingers inside of you sweetly.

A moan sounded from your plump lips, your head falling back on his shoulder. Your hand gripped his bicep as he continued to give you what you wanted, writhing in pleasure at his movements.

You could feel his hard-on press into your back as you sunk into his embrace, turning you on even more.

"How does that feel, baby?" he rasped, kissing your temple as he could feel you beginning to unravel on his fingers. "Is this what you wanted?"

You whimpered, biting your lip as you nodded your head. "Yes!"

As his fingers moved quickly inside of you, you felt his free hand wrap around your torso before moving up to your chest, his fingers ghosting over your hardened nipple.

"Please, Art," you whimpered, so close to your high. He took your words as a sign to keep going and allowed his fingers to fondle your breast, which sent you over the edge.

"Fuck, I'm-" you whined, your words caught dead in your throat as your orgasm washed over you, a defeated moan sounding from your chest.

He was mesmerized as he watched you, the way your head kicked back against his chest and you gripped his thigh as you came down from your climax. The pure ecstasy was seeping from you, and it drove him wild that he brought you to this state.

Carefully, he removed his fingers from your soaked core, bringing them to his mouth before sucking them clean. Your head snapped around to watch him, going feral at the way he reveled at the taste of you. You couldn't tear your eyes away from him.

Your hands cupped the sides of his head, your fingers running through his blonde locks of hair. His eyes fell on your wet, plump lips before he smashed his own against them without warning.

A whine of approval sounded from the back of your throat, your body quickly crawling into his lap, straddling him as you sunk deeper into the kiss. His hands ran up the sides of your thighs before settling on the flesh of your ass, squeezing it as he held your core down against his hard-on.

His lips finally pulled away from yours, both of you out of breath as you met each other's gaze once again. He was quick to attack your neck, leaving sloppy and wet kisses all over your skin as he rocked your hips over his erection for any sort of release he could get.

Your fingers tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck, earning a low groan to sound from his chest, which went straight to your core. You were growing impatient, pulling away from him in order to tug your tank top over your head. His eyes fell to your bare chest, a look of pure lust haunting them.

You quickly stood up from his lap to remove your shorts along with your underwear, giving him the opportunity to rid himself of his clothes as well. Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head as his hard-on slapped against his lower stomach once he pulled his boxers off, his tip reddened and already leaking with precum.

"Come here, baby," he said soothingly, his hands pulling you back into his lap once more, your bare chest flush with his. Your faces were inches apart, your lips parted as you watched him reach between your bodies and grasp his cock, slowly giving it a few pumps before he aligned himself with your core.

You raised your hips a little, hovering over him to allow him to guide himself into you, a deep moan ripping from your chest when you finally sank down on him.

"Fuck," he groaned, the feeling of your wet core overriding his senses. You stretched around him so sweetly, taking him so well he couldn't help but moan.

Your hands settled comfortably on his shoulders, using them to help stabilize yourself as you began to rock your hips into a steady motion. You couldn't help but bite your lip, unable to keep your moans from falling out of your mouth.

He filled you to the brim, reaching a part of you deep inside that had never fully been satisfied. It made you ecstatic; you couldn't get enough of him.

"Fuck me, Art," you moaned, pulling at the hair at the nape of his neck. "Fuck me hard."

He let out a shaky breath at your bluntness but obeyed you nonetheless. His hands gripped your hips roughly before he began a steady pace of fucking up into you, making you reel your head back in pleasure.

"Look at you, taking me so well," he moaned in between whimpers of pleasure, gripping your hips harder as he quickened his thrusts. You were a blubbering mess at this point, your head falling to the crook of his shoulder to muffle your cries.

His arm wrapped around your torso to keep you steady, his free hand moving to rake through your hair and pull your head back up to meet his gaze. He watched you intently as tears formed in your eyes, your orgasm not too far away.

"So pretty," he cooed, cupping your face. "All for me, right?"

"I'm yours, Art," you whimpered, clawing at his bicep as you felt yourself tipping over the edge. "All yours. Fuck, I'm close!"

Your moans were like music to his ears, sounding so melodic as your eyes fluttered shut in lust. With a few quick final thrusts, your second orgasm washed over you, making you writhe with pleasure as a nearly pornographic moan ripped from your chest.

He gripped your hips as he stilled his movements, his eyes intently watching you as your face contorted with your climax. He nearly came at the sight, letting out a shaky moan as you slumped back against him, completely fucked out.

"Fuck," you breathed, looking up at him as he panted heavily, a lazy smile on his face.

Suddenly, you remembered he hadn't come yet, and your body was already sliding off of him and sinking to your knees between his legs before you could even think otherwise.

"Wait, no you don't have to-" he assured you as he sat up, but you were already shushing him and taking him into your hand, gently pumping him as you gripped his thigh for leverage.

His eyes were blown out with lust as he watched you jerk him off, relaxing into your touch as a whimper escaped his throat. You looked so sexy sitting in between his legs, so eager to help him reach his climax. It didn't take long before he was letting out a guttural groan and painting your chest with his release.

His chest heaved up and down as he pulled himself back together, taking in your appearance before him. He never wanted to forget you like this; your face flushed and dewey with sweat from the orgasm he had just given you.

"Sorry, baby," he breathed, sitting up to grab your tank top and wipe you clean with it. You sent him a small smile, thankful for the gesture before you got back on the couch next to him and curled into his side. He grabbed the blanket that was hanging over the back of the couch and laid it over the two of you, trying to make you as comfortable as possible.

"Thant was..." you finally said after what felt like a long beat of silence, trying to find the right words.

"Fucking amazing?" he finished your sentence, earning a laugh from you.

"I was going to say unexpected, but that works too."

#art donaldson #art donaldson smut #mike faist #challengers #scarlet was here!#mike faist smut

199 notes · View notes

vbecker10 · 1 day

Note

Hellooo, hope u r doing good , I rly like ur work like it's all amazing ♡

Can I request Loki having a friend who is a mortal -female reader- but she is a mutant who can take up body energy -like Rogue in X-Men- and that's why she was always alone till her and Loki met and she defends him infront of the avengers, and he falls for her slowly ig 😅 -smut or fluff as u want-

Ik it's kinda lame, if u can't write it's alright

In all cases, thanks for the amazing writings ♥️

You Can't Hurt Me

Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: You are finally going on a solo mission as an Avenger, or at least you were supposed to. At the last minute, the team decides to send Loki with you which is something neither of you are happy about. After an accident in the field, you come in contact with Loki and the two of you realize your ability to absorb someone's life force, memories and powers doesn't work on him.

Warnings: arguing, swearing, feeling alone, pushing others away, minor injuries, plane crash, Loki being an ass to everyone including you - fluff in the end of course

A/N: I'm so sorry it took me forever to get to this ask. I'm finally going through my requests and I thought this idea was awesome! I tweaked it just a little cause my brain kept going in different directions but I really hope that's okay. Thank you for sending it! I hope you like it! 💚

"Are you freaking kidding me?" you ask in an annoyed tone as you get up from your seat in Steve's office.

Before Steve can reply Loki stands and adds, "I have never agreed with a mortal before but I am afraid I must in this case."

You glare at him and cross your arms. He could agree with you without being an ass about it, you think angrily.

Steve sighs and rubs his temples. "Look Y/N, I know you were supposed to go on this mission alone," he says and you nod dramatically, "But Fury, Tony and I decided Loki's skills would be useful on this mission."

"Then let me borrow his powers," you look at Loki and begin to pull off one of your gloves.

"If you touch me-" he threatens as a dagger appears in his hand with a green flourish. You put your glove back on slowly but you smile to yourself knowing you made the god nervous.

"Stop it, both of you!" Steve says loudly, slamming his hand on the desk. You and Loki both sit immediately on the chairs opposite Steve, you suddenly feel as if you are at the principal's office. He clears his throat and calms himself before he continues, "So far teamwork is not something either of you have excelled at. If you both want to remain on this team," he emphasizes the word, "you will go on this mission together."

"This is absurd," Loki argues and you roll your eyes but agree with him.

"What's absurd is the fact that neither of you are willing to work with anyone," Steve counters. "You are here because you have both been written up for splitting off from the team when we have explicitly ordered you not to."

"You know I'm better off alone," you tell him holding up a gloved hand. "The X-Men never had an issue with me going on solo missions or handling things on my own."

"You are welcome to return to the mutants," Loki offers with a smirk.

"Loki, seriously?" Steve says with an exasperated sigh but the god just shrugs.

"Y/N, just because you can't physically touch anyone doesn't mean you can use it as an excuse to avoid being near people or working with them forever," Steve says turning his attention to you.

"Yes it does," you mumble and sulk down in your chair with your arms crossed.

"And you," he ignores your comment and turns to Loki, "you are still on probation. If you want to remain here, and not be sent back to Asgard, you need to act like a member of this team."

Before either of you can say anything else, he gets up and says, "If you can't work with each other, neither of you will last much longer here. You're dismissed."

You snap your gum and click to the next page of the book you are reading on your tablet. Loki sits across from you with his nose in a book as the autopilot guides the jet towards your destination. You pop your gum again and Loki groans in annoyance. A smirk spreads across your lips, you would feel guilty about bothering him but he spent the morning calling you 'human' so you pop it loudly a third time.

"Will you stop that," he hisses, looking up from his book.

"It's an old habit," you make an excuse and shrug.

"It is an exceptionally annoying habit," he corrects you.

You hold eye contact with the God of Mischief and pop your gum in response. He practically growls as he closes his book but his words are cut off by a warning alarm blaring throughout the jet.

"What the hell is that?" you ask, getting up from your seat.

"I have no idea," he admits as he follows you to the cockpit of the jet.

The plane shakes violently and you almost lose your footing, Loki instinctively reaches out to steady you, his hand grabbing your clothed arm. You nod quickly to acknowledge the gesture and the two of you reach the control panel. A series of red lights blink frantically and your heart races as you try to decipher what is wrong but neither of you knows how to operate the jet.

You flip the switch to contact the base, "Tony what the hell is going on up here?" You know the panic is evident in your voice.

The only response you and Loki get is the crackle of static then suddenly one of the two engines goes terrifyingly silent.

You blink your eyes open slowly, your head pounds and your whole body aches. The smell of smoke and fire fill the air and your eyes sting. You try to sit up and hear someone talking but you can barely make out their words over the ringing in your ears.

"Y/N," Loki says again, shaking your shoulder lightly to get your attention. "Are you alright?" His lip is split and he is covered in dirt. His eyes are full of concern as he kneels over you, not something you are used to from the God of Mischief.

"Yea," you answer him quietly as he leans back a bit so you can sit up straighter, "I think so." You look around in awe at the torn and broken remains of the jet scattered throughout the field, unsure how you are both alive.

"I've radioed the team, they should be here in less than an hour," he informs you in a calm voice.

He rubs your shoulder in a soothing manner and you close your eyes as a breeze blows dust around you both. You shiver a bit and realize your jacket was torn during the crash, panic floods through you when you notice how much of your skin is exposed. Loki's hand gently rests on the bare skin on your shoulder and you pull away from him quickly.

"Don't touch me," you warn him and he backs away from you, his hands up in front of him. "You can't touch me, I'll hurt you," you remind him, trying to cover your skin with as much of left over material as you can. You try to get up to put distance between you and the god but you can't put weight on your left leg, it buckles under you and you fall back to the ground. You look down and see clean gauze wrapped tightly around your calf, your pant leg torn open from whatever caused your injury.

You look down in shock then look up at Loki. "How did you do this?" you ask, noticing the blood on his hands.

He shakes his head, "I don't know. I wasn't thinking, I just needed to stop the bleeding."

"I need to talk to you," he says unphased by your attitude which makes you nervous. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about what happened after the crash." He rubs his hands nervously as if your blood is still on them.

That night you lay in bed staring at the ceiling unable to sleep. When you first climbed into bed, you worried the memories of the crash would prevent you from sleeping but it was the moments after that kept replaying in your mind. Closing your eyes, you can almost still feel Loki's warm hand resting gently on your skin. You roll over, pulling the sheets tightly around yourself when to hear a knock at your door. You sit up and check the clock next to your bed, it's just after midnight.

You limp carefully to the door and open it, unsure who you expect to see. "What do you want?" you ask Loki, easily returning to how you typically treat each other.

You take a step back to let him into your room. You feel anxious knowing he is the first member of the team you've ever invited into your private space. Loki takes a seat on your couch as you pick up your hoodie that is hanging by the door.

"I think I know why I could touch you without your powers affecting me," he says and you look up at him, pausing as you zip your hoodie.

You shake your head and take your gloves out of the pockets. "Strange said it was most likely because I was unconscious," you remind him.

"I don't think your powers work on me," he says after a few moments of silence pass between you both.

"You and I both know that's not true," he keeps his eyes on you as you slip on one glove then the other.

You sit at the far end of the couch, afraid that he is wrong about whatever his theory is. He is right about one thing though, Strange's reasoning didn't explain why Loki was able to touch the skin on your shoulder after you woke up. You had done everything you could since you arrived back home to not think about how that was possible, you were terrified that it was some sort of fluke and would never happen again.

"They work on your brother," you remind him. You had grabbed the older prince by the wrist for only a few seconds during a training session two months ago. You were unable to contain his lightning abilities and fried all the computers in the lab. Thor spent the next four hours unconscious in the med bay. "Being a god doesn't make you special," you tell him in a harsher tone then you mean to.

"Thor and I are not..." he sighs. "We are not the same. You know we are not true brothers?" he asks and you shake your head. "Thor is an Asgardian and although I look like one, I am not."

"So whatever you are is why you think I can touch you?" you ask.

"It is hard to explain," he tells you. "I am from Jotunheim, realm of the frost giants. This is not my true form. I use an illusion to alter my appearance as Odin did before I knew the truth." You can tell by his tone that this is not a story he is used to sharing with others.

You take off your gloves and look at your own hand, remembering the pain and heartache even a light touch has caused to others around you. "Are you sure you want to risk this for me Loki?" you ask. "If you're wrong... I could seriously hurt you."

You listen quietly as he explains how he was taken as a baby and brought up on a series of lies. He rubs his hands nervously as he talks and never makes eye contact with you, staring at the ground as he speaks. When he finishes he lifts his hand and looks at it as he wiggles his fingers slowly, a green glow emanates from his fingertips and flows down his hand. As his magic travels, his skin slowly turns a deep shade a blue, thin ridges form intricate spirals on the back of his hand.

"This is just a well crafted illusion," he says as the glow retracts and the blue fades away.

"If I'm right... you might not need to be so alone," he counters gently.

"I... I don't believe this," you smile. Tears of joy and relief gather as you slowly look up at Loki.

He holds his hand towards you, palm up waiting patiently for you to move. Slowly, you reach you hand out, your heart pounding in your chest. Your fingertips lightly touch his fingertips and you hold your breath as you wait for the pain to spread through both of you but nothing happens. Your eyes lock on your hands as you slide your fingers towards his open palm. You still don't feel anything as you rest your palm on his, your fingers settling on his wrist.

He closes his fingers around your hand and you let out a laugh in shock and disbelief. There is no pain, no burning on your skin or in his veins as his memories are pulled from him or his powers are absorbed. Just his warm, soft skin against yours, a feeling you had almost forgotten.

"You can't hurt me," he says when your eyes met.

"I can't hurt you," you repeat. He raises his other hand to wipe away one of your tears as it travels down your cheek. The simple gesture draws even more tears. It has been so many years since you have been able to feel another person, you can barely hold yourself together. You get up suddenly and walk away from him.

"I'm sorry," he says as he stands.

"It's not... you didn't do anything wrong," you assure him as you wipe your face then wrap your arms around yourself. "It's been almost ten years since I've touched someone I wasn't trying to harm. When I gained my powers, I severed my connection to everyone I've ever loved or cared about. My family, my friends, my coworkers. I left all of them."

He listens to you quietly, not moving closer.

"I'm terrified of hurting the people I care about, that's why I left the X-Men. I was there for eight years and I was becoming too close to everyone. I was constantly afraid someone would try to hug me or give me a high five or just bump into me in the hall. I had to leave and when I came here..." you look down, ashamed of how you acted. "I avoided everyone and antagonized you on purpose so no one would want to be friends with me. I thought it would be easier, safer if no one ever wanted to be near me."

"I understand," he says and you look up as he takes a few steps towards you. "I have my own experience building walls to keep everyone out, even my brother. My reason for keeping the others away is far less noble than yours. You push people away to keep them safe while I push them away to keep myself safe."

"I have been lied to and betrayed by my family my whole life," he reminds you of your conversation only minutes ago. "If I never let anyone in, if I never care about anyone, then they can never hurt me. It's why I've been so rude and condescending to everyone on the team, including you," he admits.

You are quiet for a moment, you know exactly what you want but you are afraid he will turn down your request. "Can I..." you pause and he gives you an encouraging smile. "Can I have a hug?"

"I'm sorry for how I treated you," he tells you honestly. "Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"

"I'm afraid I am not very good at hugs," he says and when you look at the ground he adds, "But I can give it a try, for you."

You can't stop the smile that spreads across your face as you move towards him. He puts his arms around you, pulling you close. You wrap your arms around him, your hands settle on his back and your cheek rests against his chest. He is stiff in your arms but after a second, he seems to relax and lowers his cheek to rest on the top of your head.

You close your eyes and listen to his heartbeat, his breathing slows and you feel as if all the tension is leaving your body. After a moment you mumble something against his chest and he chuckles.

"I have no idea what you said," he tells you.

You lift your head and look up at him. "This is the first hug I've had in close to ten years," you repeat.

He touches your cheek gently and says, "That is truly a shame because you give wonderful hugs." You giggle and blush then he adds, "This is the best hug I have had in a very, very long time and I do not plan on letting go any time soon."

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

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belovedcloud · 8 hours

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Boxes | Older! Neighbour! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

✎ Notes: Older Leon has been rotting my brain recently, especially DI Leon ugh. I'm making another fic with him but I honestly might do Vendetta Leon. I just know this man would help you out with moving in.

➤ WC: 3K

➤ CW: Strangers to lovers? Pet names: Sweetheart, Love, Baby, Darling, Good girl. Reader is seen to be in their low 20s whilst Leon being 38. Leon feeling ashamed of himself for liking you, mentions of Ada, Helena, Claire. Leon has a fleshlight. Touch starved Leon. Both you and Leon are a bit tipsy. Tit play, Leon eating you out, P in V (unprotected sex), aftercare.

MINORS DNI!

Carrying boxes was strenuous. You moved in a few weeks ago from your parents house, it was time for a new start. Although, your arms seem to regret the decision as you lift up the remainder of your boxes to the 12th floor. But it wasn't as bad when you had a certain man by your side. Leon was lucky enough to see you struggle your way up the apartment complex. Your first meeting with him had a slight tinge of embarrassment but soon died down as you got to know each other soon enough. With Leon carrying all of your heavy belongings such as your disheveled chairs and whatnot - you could see the strain on his muscles, it was attractive without a doubt. Despite the fact that he was older than you, the way he carried himself with looks and personality made him extremely enchanting. He was a man of charisma.

Today was like no other, however, it was the last lot of boxes you had stored in your parents house. Therefore, it shouldn't be that hard right? Leon was coming to help you out anyways, he insisted.

A few minutes passed, your back towards your car as you wait for Leon to come out of the complex. A similar silhouette appeared, Leon closed the door behind him - approaching you with a small smile. "Last set today then?" He spoke out to you as he opened the trunk of the car. "Yeah, good for you right? Your old back won't be cracking every 5 minutes" You teased leading to Leon giving a low chuckle as he looked at you. "Old? You wound me." He laughed out as he took an airy box. "I don't look that old do I?" He passed the package to you, taking a hefty one for himself. "No... no, you look good." You mumbled out, hoping he didn't take the compliment in a different way. "Good? I'll take it." Leon gave you a smirk as he shifted the box, walking towards the door. You hurried up behind him, ensuring you didn't make yourself look weird. Entering into the complex with a nervous look on your face. Even though moving in was arduous, the thoughts of not speaking to Leon daily made you feel quite upset. How would you even make up an excuse to see him? Knowing him for a few weeks was short but the way you linked with each other was different. It was like you were friends for years, comfort was found within you when you spoke to Leon. If only you knew how he felt about you.

Leon felt bad. He felt ashamed that he found you so attractive. The way your shirt hugged your body and your jeans show the curvature of your ass and your thighs strained. You were so much younger than him - he couldn't help his mind wandering to images of you whilst he laid in his own bed. Wishing it was yours. He built your bedframe, he helped you place the soft clean mattress on top. Yet he felt pure filth in his self as he thought of your body on his. His hands intertwined with yours as ideas of fucking you flooded his brain. Night after night it would be the same for him, his cock thrusting into his hand or fleshlight. He tried to think of anyone else but you. Ada, Claire, Helena could only stay in his mind for a mere 20 seconds before his brain cogged back to you. You. It wouldn't help hearing you over the thins walls as you touched yourself. The softest but most pornographic moans leaving your lips. Leon only wished that it was him making you sound that way, but it was wrong. What would his friends think if he dated you? He believed he was out of your league - if only he knew about the sinful thoughts you had about him too when you indulged in your own pleasure. Two fingers thrusting into your cunt wishing it was his, gushing all over your thighs as images of him engulfed your brain.

"Stay here, I'll get the last few boxes for you." Leon maintained a steady voice shaking out the immoral ideas in his head. Keeping a level-headed smile he gave you a small wave before you could argue back. Seeing his back turned towards you, your eyes subconsciously wandered on it. Soon landing onto his biceps, subtle veins leading to his hands as he went stood in front of the elevator. Snapping yourself out of your trance, you unpacked the two boxes you and Leon took up. Placing the glasses into the kitchen cabinet and hanging up clothes was therapeutic in some way. Helping you calm yourself from your thoughts on Leon as you felt a wet patch on your panties. Pouring out a glass of wine for two as you waited for Leon to come back.

"I think that's it.. unless you have some hidden ones in your car?" He joked as he placed down the final box to the side, looking up to see you with two glasses of wine in your hand. "Oh?" He smiled, stretching his back before walking to you. "Seems like you need this then." You giggled passing him the glass, Leon rolling his eyes as he took it. "Thank you for the past few weeks helping me move in... I was wondering if you wanted to relax for a bit?" You murmured, sitting down on your couch. Leon soon accompanying you. "How can I say no?" He gave you a slight smirk as the rim of the wine glass pressed against his lips, the alcoholic liquid sliding down his throat.

A bottle or two of wine later caused the both of you to erupt into laughter and giggles - getting to know each other quite well. You learned that Leon worked for the government, although not being able to go into grave detail, he was an important figure for the USA. It wasn't long until you also explained what your job was, explaining in why you chose your path. However, you felt hot. Way too hot as you sensed his eyes gaze all over you. Lingering onto your lips and eyes as he looked at you with such awe and fascination. Leon felt warm within himself, you were like a new light that he had been longing for. You spoke without care, refreshing for him as his job withheld such secrecy. An urge secreted in him as your soft lips moved with grace. He yearned for you, and it was becoming evident from the pained strain in his jeans.

Taking another sip from your drink, you spoke without thinking. "How's your love life?" Shit. Was that too personal? Hoping for the best outcome you fiddled with your glass as your eyes wandered to his face, trying to decipher what expression he had. "Boring. If I'm being honest with you, I haven't dated anyone for years." A deep chuckle elicited out of his throat. The rasp laced in his tone giving you a shiver. "Seriously? You're joking." A giggle came out of you. Was he actually single? "Nope. But I'm surprised you don't have a certain someone here. You've got a boyfriend haven't you?" Leon hiccupped out, the alcohol making him feel fuzzy. To his surprise, your head shook side to side. "No, I'm single alright." You said with a soft smile plastered on your face. Leon genuinely couldn't believe it. A woman like you single? "Now that's a surprise." Leon grinned as he finished his 4th glass of wine. "Well, I'm sure you'll be able to find a man of your age. Although most of them are probably a pain in your ass." He laid back onto the couch, his arm behind his head. Again, your eyes couldn't help but avert to the flex of his bicep. This time, it didn't go unnoticed.

"You're right." A sigh came from your lips, "Which is why I don't usually go for guys my age." You admitted, making Leon confused. So who did you go for? "Hm? So you like younger men?" He asked, staring into your eyes with his own lustful ones. Praying that what you were looking for was the opposite of young. A mellow giggle followed out of your mouth as you shook your head once more. "No, I like older men." Leon's smirk became wider as those words left your mouth. Maybe he had a chance after all. Perhaps his wrongful thoughts were okay with you - that you wouldn't mind a man near twice your age to fuck you. "Really sweetheart?" A low groan drawn out his throat, his eyes basically fucking you. That same heat returned to you, just much more insatiable.

It was like a flip in you switched, your body longing for touch as so for Leon. Sloppy kisses shared between you two as Leon's hands gripped the fat on your hips. Subconsciously grinding himself into you as he felt your clit throb on his crotch. Your quiet whimpers muffled by the crashing of yours and Leon's lips unmethodical rhythms as saliva was shared. "F-Fuck.." A moan left Leon's lips, his head clouded by lust as he tapped your legs. "Wrap 'em around me darling." He demanded as he held you up, your legs squeezed tight around his waist - your irregular breathing echoing in his mind. Leon wasn't going to just fuck you on the couch, he wanted to show you his love. Heavy footsteps followed behind him as he nudged your bedroom door open, placing you gently on your newly built bed. "Let's see how well I built this frame, yeah?" Leon joked as he littered your neck with butterfly kisses. Pinning you down, stopping your squirming beneath him. "L-Leon..." That was enough to get him going, the pornographic moan after the lustful mumble of his name had his cock throbbing for more. He wanted you, he needed you.

Leon's hands slowly crept under your shirt, caressing your chest as he kneaded your tits. Pinching at your nipples to elicit another whine out of you. Your soft, mellow skin opposed his calloused hands. The hands that killed bioweapons were fondling with your tits, shakily taking off your shirt to show them in true beauty. "So fucking gorgeous." Leon groaned out, without a doubt in his mind he shoved his head in between your breasts. Your whimpers echoed throughout your bedroom, just to be stopped as you gasped when you felt his knee part your legs. Rubbing your clothed clit as he sucked on the plush parts of your tits. His hands methodically unbuttoned your jeans, slowly pulling them off you as he saw your pretty laced panties. They would've looked so innocent if it wasn't for the soaked wet patch in the middle of them. "All this for me baby?" He murmured, enchanted by how wet you were. You could couldn't help but frantically nod your head, needing to feel his touch somewhere else. "P-Please Leon.. need you to touch me." You moaned gently, your hips bucking for any type of touch. Who was he to say no to such a polite question? "Alright sweetheart.. C'mon spread your legs f'me." He ordered and you obeyed, feeling like mush in his hands.

The pads of his fingers played with the lace and the little bow at the top. Cute. Slowly, he slid your panties to the side, your slick leaving a small strand attached to the material. Leon was mesmerized by the sight, yet you felt embarrassed. Trying to close your legs failed as his strong hands pried you open. "Don't close 'em love, you're so beautiful. Let me appreciate you, yeah?" He groaned, feeling himself rut into your fresh linen sheets. Leon positioned himself in front of your clit, feeling his mouth water as he looked at it. His eyes flickering to you before asking "Do you want me to carry on darling?" His hot breath tickling you, a soft moan squeezed out your throat. "Yes.. Please Leon.. Want your tongue on my clit." Leon gave you a deep chuckle in response, his eyes flickering back to your clit. "'Atta girl.. Didn't know you were so dirty." He whispered before licking your slit, slowly capturing you in his mouth.

This was pure filth. Your moans alongside the wet sounds your pussy was making as Leon's pistoned two fingers in and out of you. His tongue skillfully flicking over your clit as his baby blue eyes watched your reactions. Your fingers felt themselves entangled in Leon's hair, pulling at his strands as choked moans fell out of your mouth. Chasing for that sweet release, you subconsciously bucked your hips, allowing for Leon's nose to press up against your clit. Deep, shallow moans trembled into your clit as Leon was determined to make you cum. He wanted all of you, he needed you to be ready for his cock. "C'mon, give it to me baby." He pressed his tongue against you, curving his fingers in you in the right spot. "L-Leon... I'm gonna.." Your sentence was soon cut off by the shaking of your body as the coil in you snapped. The orgasm took over your body, your lips chanting his name as you pulled on his hair. Granting you a groan from Leon as he swallowed your cum. "So sweet." He chuckled, pulling himself off you. Before pulling your face close to his, allowing you to taste yourself as he kissed you.

Leon felt a hand tug on his shirt, your pleading eyes staring into his blue ones. A smirk tugged his face as he took off his shirt. Slowly unbuckling his belt, removing his jeans alongside it too. Your cunt ached to be fucked, your mind telling you that only Leon could satisfy your needs.

He pulled down his boxers, a pretty dark red tip beamed at you. Glistening with pre-cum smeared all of it. You couldn't help but stare as Leon's face flushed a light pink. "Fuck.. Don't look at it like that sweetheart." He moaned softly, positioning himself right up against your entrance. "You ready?" His hand slowly caressed your face, a nod coming from you as he intertwined his hand with yours. He was big. Real fucking big as you felt yourself stretch open, your eyes rolling back in pain mixed with pleasure. Fuck. Leon could've came right there as he saw your expression change. You were so attractive. He slowly rutted himself into you, moaning your name as his hips sputtered. "Y-You alright?" He stuttered out, you were so tight. "Yeah.. I'm okay. You can move Leon." A soft smile appeared on your face, he couldn't help but reciprocate it back. He moved his hips, his thrusts soft - but it was hard to keep it that way after a minute. His thighs started to slap against yours as his dick pistoned into you. Leon threw his head back in otherworldly pleasure, moaning sweet nothings as he felt himself lose himself inside of you. You were no different. Your moans and screams increased in volume and pitch as you felt him pound into you. Your legs shaking in pleasure as you felt that same coil tighten in you again. "My good girl.. f-fuck so fucking good f'me." Leon growled, feeling his body become weak to your pheromones. He buried his head into your neck, marking you with lovebites. He felt his dick throb as his hips moved without thought.

"Leon.. I'm gonna cum again.. Feels too good." Mewls escaped from your throat as your hands scrapped at his back. Scratching him. The pain mixed with pleasure was enough for Leon to start panting as he felt himself get close. "Cum for me, please cum for me baby.." He whined as he thrusted into your sweet little pussy. You were so pretty for him, his good girl. The marks on your neck slowly started to become more evident, a smirk appeared on his face as he saw you scrunch up your face. His hand snaked down to your clit, slowly rubbing it. Giving you a whole new sensation as you felt his dick pulsate inside you. "I.. I.. Leon!" The coil in you snapped again, twice as hard as you creamed all over his cock. He didn't stop smacking himself into you, a white ring forming at the base. Leon started to chase his own high. "Take it, take it, take it." He chanted as he felt his hips stammer. The clapping of your skin quickly died down as Leon jerked himself out of you, rubbing his dick as his cum splattered all over your stomach. You couldn't help but think how handsome he looked as he threw his head back, moaning your name.

After both of your highs, Leon practically collapsed on top of you. "G-Get off.. You're so heavy." You tried to push him off, a laugh escaping Leon's lips as he pulled himself off of you. Pressing a soft kiss against your lips. He climbed out of your bed, pulling up his boxers and walked out of your bedroom. Soon, he returned with a damp cloth in his hand with two bottles of water in the other. Whilst wiping you down, Leon flashed you a quick smile and passed you the cold bottle. Your lips pursed the top as you gulped down the liquid. "C'mon... Let's shower." He took his hand into yours, lifting you up from your bed and carrying you to your bathroom. Your hot thighs pressed against the cold counter as he flipped the shower on. "Hey guess what." Leon couldn't help but giggle out the sentence. Your eyebrow cocked up as you looked over to him. "What?" You asked him with a smile on your face.

"At least we know I built the frame right." He laughed out, finding himself hilarious. "Oh shut up." Your laughter soon followed along.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #resident evil #leon kennedy resident evil #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fanfiction #resident evil smut #leon smut #leon kennedy older

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a-a-a-anon · 2 days

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absolutely fascinated by young dee who is criminally under-discussed so here is my dissertation on what happened in her college years (ft. dr. gainer, setting her roommate on fire, being institutionalized)/my idea for a fic that I will almost certainly never write/my way too serious take on a few throwaway dee lore lines

timeline background: we know that dee majored in psychology ('charlie got molested') and got "three fourths" of the way in (meanwhile dennis finished his psych minor.) assuming this was a four year program, I'm gonna guess that in her third year she got institutionalized and most likely had to drop out ('gun fever too: still hot'.) we also know that she had her back brace until she was twenty ('underage drinking'), so I'm guessing that means she got her back brace off in her third year.

we know that dennis fancied himself a psychologist since he was young, but I think dee did too. in particular I think she was wary and interested in her brother's psychology; she seems very aware of his psychopathy and bpd in 'making dennis reynolds a murderer' and 'psycho pete returns.' in my head she's been interested in dennis' psychology since they were kids and she saw him snapping crows necks. so instead of forcing her way into acting school, she studied psychology to better understand her brother (and also deep down, herself, who is very much the other side of the same fucked up coin.) it also meant she could tell herself she could study her characters even better when she became an actress.

i think she put in (her version of) genuine academic effort to get in, fuelled kind of by spite (remember the way she studied that thick medical book in 'hero or hate crime' or her very quick math in 'boggs: ladies reboot'). she studies books and gets cricket to quiz her and she still fails to get into penn. but frank always pitied her (i think she was his favorite of the twins-remember "let your sister into the gang", "that's my girl!", "i'm sorry the grift didn't work out, sweetie") so he shells out cash to get her in, but also to get her away from home so he has to deal with her even less.

dennis wants to do anything dee does but better and he wants to keep her close by (to watch her crash and burn, and also because he's weirdly possessive-see 'the gang broke dee' "i'm your select!"). and obviously he's barbara's favorite. so barbara gives him money to get in too. she also gets him into a frat and pays for his classes and his rent and everything he needs. dee has to live in a dumpy dorm with a female roommate.

but college presents dee a chance to moult her previous place in life where she was known as a monster (remember how insistent she was that "people can change!" in 'franks pretty woman'. I think dees always wanted to believe she can shed that feeling she's inferior, but she never has). in my head her female roommate is basically normal-has real friends of her own, mentally stable, attractive-which is exactly what dee craves. dee wants to be popular and well liked and she wants to infiltrate her roommates life, imitate her, be in the Cool group. and she places all her hopes on a friendship with the roommate but dee has never navigated real female friendships before, not with someone like her. deep down she also wishes she found what dennis found in mac, whatever it was, because ever since dennis met mac he's never been as close to her. and i do think dee is some flavor of queer. and the roommate is well liked in the way that dee admires and envies. so there is that blurriness between wanting to be her and wanting to be with her. in my head her roommate looks like the woman from dee's fantasy in 'the gang saves the day' (and they both represent that promise of escape from dee's shitty life).

dee is so desperate for the roommates approval and her love and her life that she goes insane, copying and flattering and competing with her. ever the shitty actress, she tries to emulate her, but comes off as manic and creepy. and maybe her roommate is nice enough to not completely shun her, recognizing that she's struggling. maybe in dees mind they actually are becoming friends when her roommate asks things like "are you okay?"

and dee has to talk about her plan with dennis because he's the only person who would Get It. and she makes it sound like it's almost working. dennis feels jealous and worried and threatened that maybe dee might actually be seen as normal, especially when she gets her back brace off in the third year. so dennis fucks her roommate, more of a show that he owns and controls each and every pathetic part of dee’s life than anything else. and so that dee knows she'll never be as good as him, she'll never as easily charm people as dennis does. (or at least he tells her he does).

to prove that To Someone dee is Good Enough, and so desperate for attention, dee (who's been groomed all this time) enters a sexual relationship with her professor dr. gainer. she tells herself she has the power in it, that she seduced him ("he didn't molest me. i had sex with him 'cause i wanted to.") and she has a mental break, because the thing she told herself held her back from being loved (her back brace) is finally gone by now and yet she still feels like a monster, and the only scrap of "love" she can get is from her professor.

and then she can't take the fact that she can steal her roommates clothes, can emulate her sexual prowess (in dee's own fucked up, delusional way), and still neither be well liked like her nor be loved by her. so maybe dee will always be a monster. so dee tried to burn her roommate in her bed, because she represented the promise of change and popularity, and that promise was a lie and dee's effort was for nothing. and she's institutionalized.

and i think there was kind of a falling out between the twins and their parents, because barbara wants to abandon dee but dennis can't help but visit her. and frank doesn't even step foot in a place that reminds him of his traumatic childhood, and avoids dee even more than he used to because she is his childhood mirror image. so the family becomes even more fractured and estranged.

and maybe dee becomes medicated and slowly crawls her way halfway to normal by the first season (her acting classes are so well-adjusted, taking part in healthy hobbies of her!). until her father comes back into her life and everything falls apart <3

side note, even though dee is crushingly lonely-"I just got a cat 'cause I wanted something to hang out with. I don't have, you know, a roommate or anything, and I don't really have anyone to talk to..."-AND she struggles to pay rent whenever frank cuts her off, i hc that she refused to ever get a roommate in particular female roommate again after this because both her internalized misogyny got worse and she was afraid of what would happen (what she would do) again.

#THIS IS FOR THOSE WITH THE DEE BRAIN ROT WHO SEES HER AS A SHAKESPEAREAN TRAGIC HEROINE WHO JUST WANTS TO BE THE BELOVED COMEDIC RELIEF #also no way in HELL dee was genuinely ever like nice roller rink ep dee. in my head that was the guys absolving themselves for turning dee #even more traumatized and isolated and jaded thru their treatment of her. bc it was obviously a freak accident shes Like That right #(in the sense of like unreliable narrator/faulty memory/lack of any care or attention given to dees life)#dee reynolds #iasip #iasip headcanons #nina.rambles #posts with an audience of me myself and i #tw grooming #tw mental illness #not sure how to tag this!#to me she is the main character.#dennis reynolds #bc there is heavy mention of him too #trash twins #frank reynolds #barbara reynolds

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rubydubydoo122 · 13 hours

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could you talk more about fanon vs canon tim drake? i havent gotten too far into the comics yet but have seen a lot of him (mis?)characterized by others

Just a preface, I'm not gonna crucify any Tim fans who find themselves writing these tropes, because it is fandom, and everyone's allowed their own interpretations of the character, I'm just personally not a fan of these takes on Tim because in my mind they just don't make sense for the character. If anyone has differing opinions, feel free to (politely) explain them to me, because I'm happy to hear them.

Ok, so much like Fanon Dick Grayson, there are two versions of fanon Tim Drake.

There's version A.) where where he's one minor inconvienience away from becoming a supervillain (I understand where this one comes from and I don't HATE it) and there's version B.) where he was criminally neglected as a kid and is infantalized (This version of Tim I Loathe)

I'll start with version A. I see where it comes from. Mainly the Red Robin 2009 run, but we have to remember that Tim was grieving pretty much everyone close to him during that era. He was being self destructive because of that grief, and yeah, grief changes a person, but Tim is the type of character who would still turn out good despite all the hurt handed to him. Oh! But Gun Batman-- Tim actively chose against being that. He would rather kill himself than let himself become a version of Batman who went against everything Batman stood for. I know there are multiple storylines where Tim meets and evil future version of himself, but those versions would constantly be like a weight on him to be good. All in all, if I had to choose between the fanon Tim Drakes, I would choose villain Tim Drake, as long as it's done in more of a character-study way rather than a 'He deserves to go evil, as a treat' because it's an interesting take with the right motives.

Now onto Version B. Loser Tim Drake. The reason I Loathe this version of Tim is because it usually involves Characters Assassination of the characters around him. Ok, so do I agree that Tim Drake was somewhat neglected? Yes. But goddamit, the way I see Jack and Janet portrayed, you would think that they were running from the feds or something. They were good people, just bad parents. Maybe a little immature to raise a child, but it wasn't to the point where they would probably need to call CPS. Neglect isn't black and white, and the Drakes fell into that grey-- which I personally believe to be a lighter shade. You do have to remember that a lot of Tim's introduction was written in the 90's where parenting styles were a lot different compared to Today. Still, they sent him to boarding school, meaning they made sure that some form of adult was taking care of Tim AND a lot of people try to make Jack Drake out to be the villain for stopping Tim from being Robin, and blackmailing Bruce for it, but... It's What Any Sane Parent Would Do? I'm 18, but I know if I ever had a kid, and then fell into a coma and then woke up and found out that my Kid was fighting crime in one of the most CRIME RIDDEN CITIES alongside my middle-aged neighbor who dresses up like a furry I WOULD CALL THE FUCKING COPS. But enough about the Drakes. Because not only does Loser Tim Drake assassinate their character, but why is 17 year old Tim the victim when it comes to 10 year old Damian-- "Oh he tried to kill him' They're both trained by assassins. They're both trained. They're both Trained. Why Is a Junior/Senior in high school hurt by the actions of a 5th grader. I have a similar age gap with my younger brother. We have had pretty brutal fights and the next day we're fine. I'm not going to get into "Attack on Titans Tower AUs" but I will say this, Every Time I Start To Read One Of Those, I Lose Half Of My Hair Because of How Bad the Characterization Of Both Jason And Tim are. Please, Read, The, Comic. Jason Wasn't Trying To Kill Tim. If He Was, Tim would Be Dead. ANd Tim was Snarking Jason Through The Entire Confrontation. Lastly, Why Has DICK 'BAMF' GRAYSON TURNED INTO TIM"S NUMBER ONE OP????!!!! DIck IS LITERALLY TiM's ChiLDHOOD HEro!!!!! NoT BAtMAN, DICK GRAYSON. And like, not only that, Dick and Tim are the most brotherly. I'm Begging, Please go read a 90's comic. Why is it, the only time I see Dicks Manipulative side in fanon, It's in opposition to Tim? I bet it's bc of Teen Titans Go. I bet the only Tim and Dick interaction they've seen is TTG Robin going "No BOdy cARes AbOuT TiM DrAke"

Sorry that ended up becoming rant-y, and less objective. Since actually reading comics, fanon Tim Drake gets on my nerves.

#tim drake #anti tim drake #not anti tim drake #anti fanon tim drake #batman #batfam #dc comics #bruce wayne #jack drake #janet drake #justice for the drakes #dick grayson #damian wayne #jason todd

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justagalwhowrites · 23 hours

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Yearling - Ch. 35: Answers

You leave Jackson to find your daughters. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-34 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only

Length: 5.4k

A/N: We are into the final arc of Yearling and we are going to see some TLOU 2 OVERLAP again. There isn't any this chapter but there will be in this arc and here's how: a character from that game will be mentioned as will the spoiler-y incident from a few chapters ago. What happens plot wise in this arc is completely separate from the game and entirely original content BUT there is that character overlap and more specific mentions of the incident and the motives behind it. If you're trying to go in blind to season 2, it might be wise to step back. Feel free to send me a DM, I'm happy to answer any and all questions!

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter

It was hard not to panic when the world was ending.

You’d lived through it enough by now, you thought you’d get used to it.

You never did.

“Who has them, Kyle?” You asked, holding the boy’s shoulders, searching his eyes. He was still panting for breath, still looking terrified. “I need you to focus, who has them.”

“That man, the one who was here a few months ago but left,” he said. “I can’t… He gave me so much to remember and I can’t…”

“Cody?” You asked quickly, even though you knew you were right, your chest tight. “Does that sound right?”

“Yeah,” he nodded quickly. “Yes, Cody, it was Cody, he has them. He sent me here, to find you. He told me to bring you and just you back, said if we came with anyone else he’d kill them. I’m so sorry, Mrs. Miller, I was just trying to help, I swear…”

Your head spun but you didn’t have time to try to calm yourself down or even come up with a fucking plan.

“Did he say why?” You asked, leaving the teenager hovering in your doorway as you went to your kitchen. You found a notebook and ripped a piece of paper out of it, the pen hovering over it for a moment. Like once you wrote what was going to happen there was no turning back.

“He said you owed him,” he said. “And he that he would collect with them if it wasn’t with you. He said you’d know what that meant.”

You held the pen a little tighter. You did know what he meant and you knew the kind of man Cody was, what he would take if you let him.

You couldn’t let him.

“Kyle, go in the closet by the front door,” you said, wondering how your voice wasn’t shaking. “There’s my patrol pack in there, it has my flashlight, my axe and my knife. Get them.”

It wasn’t going to be enough but you didn’t have guns in the house and getting one would require talking to someone else, something you couldn’t risk, not when it was Savvy and Ellie on the line. You’d have to make do.

You tried to think of what to say to Joel, the man you loved more than you ever thought it was possible to love someone like that. How did you say goodbye to someone who meant that much to you when you didn’t want to leave?

You did the best you could, signing your name - your real one - for the first time since you’d married Joel.

“Found them,” Kyle said as you folded the paper in half and wrote Joel’s name on one side of it, leaving the note leaning against the flowers that he had picked for you before leaving town. You looked around the kitchen, at the spot on the counter where you perched as your husband cooked for you and the table where you sat with him and took a deep breath, hoping you’d see it all again.

“You know where to go, right?” You asked.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I memorized it.”

“OK,” you said, clipping your knife to your belt, thankful that you’d just fallen asleep fully clothed so you didn’t have to stop to get dressed. You were in one of Joel’s shirts. You always were, when he was outside Jackson, when he promised to come home to you. “Lead the way.”

You followed Kyle through the dark, quiet town. Even the Tipsy Bison was silent and you realized you weren’t sure what time it was but it had to be late, at least 3 a.m.

“We’ll have to sneak out,” Kyle said, his voice low. “It’s what we did when…”

You couldn’t think about it.

“Show me.”

There was an area of the fence, covered by a woodpile and not far from the schoolhouse, that easily pried apart, leaving enough room for a person to slip outside.

Kyle climbed through first and held it for you to follow before the two of you scrambled for the nearest tree line, hoping that you made it out of town unnoticed.

“How far?” You asked, looking back over your shoulder, your heart pounding.

“Three hours, I think,” he said. “I’m so sorry Mrs. Miller…”

“Tell me all of it,” you said, ignoring his apology. It didn’t matter now. “I need to know what we’re walking into.”

It made so much sense when he laid it out for you.

Savvy and Ellie had snuck out of Jackson the first night Joel was gone, the friends they were hanging out with apparently slipping out regularly. They stashed some pot outside the walls and liked to go sit and smoke when they thought they wouldn’t get into trouble, where they felt like they had some freedom. It was so typical of teenagers, it was almost funny. That even in the apocalypse, in a place like Jackson, the children found ways to rebel. Kyle and Savvy had wandered off from the group. They didn’t go far, just far enough that they felt like they had some privacy. Kyle wanted to ask her to the dance that was happening in a few weeks.

That’s where they ran into Cody.

He’d been nice, at first. Asking after Jackson, how things had been there. How he was thinking about trying to come back. He asked for information, enough that Savvy was starting to feel skeptical.

And then Ellie found them.

Ellie was worried, thinking that Savvy had been off on her own with a boy a little too long, and set off to find them. But she’d snapped when she saw Cody. She was a smart girl, she didn’t leave Jackson unarmed and she put her knife to Cody’s throat.

He’d just smiled, something in his eyes that made Kyle uneasy, more uneasy than Ellie’s knife did.

“Should fucking kill you right now,” Ellie had said, getting in his face. “Joel never should have let you live, I don’t give a fuck what she says…”

“Ellie!” Savvy tried to go for her but Kyle stopped her, catching her around her waist and holding her back. “You can’t just kill him, he hasn’t done anything!”

“Should listen to your sister, little girl,” Cody smirked. “I don’t come back, there’s a whole new set of problems for that perfect little town of yours.”

“Fuck you,” Ellie spat.

“You that serious?” He asked. “Come and get me. Tomorrow night. Bring your mom.” He’d looked at Savvy in a way that made Kyle feel sick. “And get your sister on board. Something tells me she might not know the real reason I left Jackson.”

Cody walked away then, Ellie’s grip still tight on the knife for a minute before she put an arm around Savvy and stalked back off toward town. Kyle couldn’t hear what they were saying.

When they made it back as dawn was on the horizon, he still wasn’t sure what set Ellie off. He wasn’t sure when Ellie and Savvy came to him the next afternoon, either, to ask him to go with them to find Cody that night.

“I want to have the upper hand,” Ellie had said. “And you already know about him.”

Savvy looked different then, something set and angry on her face. Kyle tried to ask her what was wrong but she wouldn’t tell him. He just went along with their plan, Ellie and Savvy out for Cody’s blood and Kyle wanting to keep the girl he was starting to fall for safe.

But they made a mistake.

They were outnumbered from the start, Cody bringing a dozen men to capture them. Ellie killed one as Kyle tried to run with Savvy but they failed.

“Thought I told you to bring your mom,” Cody had said. “But that’s OK. Sure we can work something out.”

He hauled the three of them away, walking a few hours into the forest, before sending Kyle back to Jackson to get you.

It explained so much of what had happened over the last day. The cagey way Ellie and Savvy were talking in the mess hall, the way Savvy had hugged you - Ellie had to have told her something - like she hadn’t in months, the odd way they were acting when you checked on them that night.

“How many men were there?” You asked.

“A lot,” Kyle said. “I don’t know for sure. At least 12 to grab us, we met up with probably another dozen or so after that…”

“Right,” you said, your heart clenching. You weren’t making it out of this. You tried to resign yourself to that, that the best you could hope for right now was getting the kids out in one piece. “Did he say what he wanted?”

“Besides you?” Kyle asked. “No. I’m sorry, Mrs. Miller…”

“It’s OK,” you said, trying to keep him calm. “You did your best, you stayed alive, that’s the important thing.”

The two of you walked in silence for a while, your heart pounding the whole time. You focused on getting to the girls. That’s all that mattered. You tried not to think about what was waiting for you on the other side of it.

“When we find them, let me do the talking,” you said as the sunrise tinted the horizon red. “And stay behind me. If you see a chance to get Savvy or Ellie away, do it. Otherwise, do what I tell you.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, a tremble in his voice. “I’m really sorry, Mrs. Miller, I didn’t mean…”

“I know,” you said quietly. “Just get them home.”

You caught a glimpse of someone moving in the woods then, just on the edge of your vision, your head whipping around to track the motion on instinct. It was baked into you still, moving through the forest alone, being on guard, knowing when you were being watched. You’d survived most of your life that way and years in Jackson hadn’t pulled it out of you. The second you realized it was a man and not an animal, you adjusted your grip on your axe with one hand and reached behind you with the other, shifting your body so you were between Kyle and the man.

It took you half a second to place his familiar face, one of Mitchum’s henchmen who was low enough that he wasn’t allowed to touch you, a slow smirk spreading over his face.

“Well ain’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he emerged from a fern and gave a long, low whistle. “Mitchum’s been lookin’ for you.”

“Bet he’s been lookin’ for you, too,” your hold on the axe tightened. You wanted to kill him but you couldn’t, not when you didn’t know where Ellie and Savvy were. “Unless you’re still his little bitch. But I don’t think he took too kindly to you taking off on him to serve some other asshole.”

“You always did have a mouth on you,” he said, trees and brush at your back starting to rustle. “But look where that got you.”

“And you were up his ass for how long?” You asked. “Where’d that get you, exactly?”

His eyes narrowed and you tracked where you were hearing movement around you, the sound drawing closer. Kyle’s shaky hand grabbed at your bicep.

“Don’t think the boss would be too happy with you picking a fight with our biggest commodity,” a man said from behind you. Kyle gasped and you felt him jump but you kept your eyes on the first man. “You know what he wants with her.”

“And what’s that, exactly?” You called over your shoulder, still tracking where Kyle was with your unoccupied hand.

“Leverage, of course,” the man came around to the front of you, smirking just like his friend. You didn’t recognize him. “Mitchum has the biggest operation around these parts and you, it seems, are the only thing he wants that he doesn’t have. Give him you on a silver platter? We get first pick of new territory.”

He looked you up and down in a way that reminded you of inspecting livestock. Your stomach turned.

“Don’t really see what all the fuss is about but,” he shrugged. “Don’t really give a shit.”

“You got my girls?” You asked, cutting to the chase.

His smile grew.

“So the boss was right,” he shook his head a little. “You women, so predictable…”

“If they’re not in one piece, I got no reason to leave you two idiots alive,” you snapped, losing your patience. You needed to see your daughters and you needed to see them now. “So if you don’t want my axe in your goddamn chest, you’re gonna take me to them right fucking now.”

He licked his lips.

“Might get the fuss a little more now,” he said, stepping close to you. He knew he had you, knew that you wouldn’t do anything that would risk Savvy or Ellie. “Gonna need that axe and knife and anything else you got on you or the boy. Then we’ll see if we can’t find your girls.”

You narrowed your eyes but surrendered your weapons anyway.

“Mrs. Miller…” Kyle whispered but you shushed him.

“I’ll keep you safe,” you glanced behind you toward him. “Stay calm and do what they tell you.”

You turned your attention back to the men in front of you, more emerging from the trees now.

“If you’ve hurt either of them, you have no idea the shit storm you just brought down on your heads.”

“Not much of a threat without your little toys,” he looked them over. “Something tells me we can take you just fine unarmed.”

“Cody tell you what I did to the men who tried to catch me last time I got out?” You asked, brows raised. For half a moment, there was a flash of concern on the first man’s face. You nodded to him. “He knows. Take me to my girls before you find out first hand.”

The second man quirked his jaw before jerking his head in the direction you’d been walking.

“Keep up.”

You only needed to follow them another 15 minutes or so, your heart pounding the whole time. Eventually, you came upon a clearing, a fire dying at the center of it with Cody standing right behind it, watching you approach with a satisfied smirk on his face.

“Hey there baby doll,” he said, prowling around the fire to meet you. “You don’t look too happy to see me.”

“Where are my daughters.”

He ignored you, like you hadn’t spoken at all.

“You’d think that, after last time, you’d learn…”

“Where are my daughters.”

“…that you should at least pretend to be grateful when you see me…”

Your patience was gone. If he didn’t have Ellie and Savvy, there was no point to this. No point to his game, no point to trying to make it out alive. You needed to see them and you needed to see them now.

The man at your left had a handgun in a holster on his right, one he wasn’t paying close attention to, his hands on his rifle that was strapped across his body. You, on the other hand, had paid attention.

You went for the gun, moving fast enough that he didn’t know what was happening until he felt the tug of you pulling the weapon from his side, turning to face you with a frown on his face after you freed the revolver, pulling the hammer back as you raised it and pulled the trigger. He dropped, Kyle screaming in shock at your back, and you turned the gun on Cody, pulling the hammer back again.

“WHERE ARE MY FUCKING KIDS!”

You could feel every gun and eye turn to you as you fought to control your breathing, the sound of birds taking flight the only sound beyond the echo of the gunshot and your scream. But you knew they wouldn’t shoot you, not when you were apparently so valuable to their boss and their boss was still breathing. And if they were smart, the wouldn’t hurt Savvy or Ellie, either.

“You know you wouldn’t make it out of here alive,” Cody said, stepping closer, until the barrel of the gun was in his chest.

“You think that matters if they’re gone?” You asked, brows raised. “If you killed them, all that matters is that I kill as many of you as I can before you take me down and I’m a damn good shot. So. Give me my daughters or another one of these fuckers dies.”

He gave you a cocky smirk and whistled. There was rustling somewhere you couldn’t see but, after a moment, three men brought out Savvy and Ellie, bound and gagged. You clenched your jaw but stayed still, eyes ranging over them as quickly as you could, looking for all signs of injury. They were still dressed, a good sign. Ellie had a cut at her forehead, Savvy had a bloody bandage at her arm. You clenched your fist on the revolver.

“See?” Cody said. “All in one piece. Now, hand over the gun before we have to change that.”

Ellie’s eyes went wide and she shook her head at you, frantic, but you ignored her.

“Untie them,” you said, gun still in his chest.

“Gonna need a little more incentive than that,” he said. “I know how you are with people who do you favors…”

“Untie them,” you said again, pulling your eyes away from the girls to meet his. “Let me talk to them, make sure they’re OK, then let them go with their friend. And I mean let them go, your men stay where I can fuckin’ see ‘em. You do that? I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?” He asked, looking you up and down.

Your stomach turned.

“You heard me,” you spat.

He mulled it over for a second before smiling, cocky.

“Deal,” he said, jerking his head toward one of his men. They moved to untie Savvy and Ellie. “I’ll take that gun now.”

You lowered the weapon and turned it around in your hand before holding it out to him, handle first. He took it.

“Good as you are, don’t know if I ever thought your pussy was worth all the fuss Mitchum made over you,” he said, handing the gun to one of his henchmen. “But damn if it ain’t fun to watch you break.”

“Mom!” Savvy was freed first, running for you and throwing her arms around your neck. You clutched onto her, clinging to her, breathing in the scent of her, floral with a hint of apple and hay and gunpowder. “I’m so sorry, Mom, I’m so sorry…”

“It’s OK,” your voice was thick and you tried to focus on how she felt in your arms so you could hold onto that memory before stepping back from her. “Are you OK? They touch you?”

“I’m fine,” she sniffed. “They got my arm a little but…”

“They haven’t touched you since you’ve been here?” You asked, brows raised. “No one’s hurt you or…”

“No,” she shook her head. “No, they tied us up but they haven’t done anything.”

“Good,” you nodded, brushing her thick curls back from her forehead. “That’s good.”

Ellie approached you cautiously, like she was waiting for you to yell at her but you didn’t. You didn’t even want to, there was no point to it. Instead, you pulled her into your arms and held her tight as she pressed her face into your shoulder. You tried to remember her, too, the daughter who came into your life so late and that you desperately wanted more time with.

“I’m sorry,” she said, voice thick and wet. “I thought I could handle it, I thought…”

“S’OK,” you said, stepping back from her and looking her over, too. Her lip was split and the blood at her forehead was dried, the cut there scabbing over. “Ellie, I need you to listen to me. You’re in charge, OK? You’re going to get Savvy and Kyle back to Jackson…”

“But -”

“No,” you said, harsher than you really meant. “This ain’t a discussion, this is me telling you what you’re going to do, do you understand me.”

“I can’t just leave you here!” Her eyes were wide and desperate and you forced yourself to be calm.

“Yes, you can,” you said, taking her by the shoulders. “Ellie, the most important thing you can do right now is take care of your sister, do you understand me?” She nodded. “You get her and Kyle back to town. You’ve patrolled, you know how to do it safely. Get them there. That’s your job, they are your responsibility. Promise me you’ll get them home.”

She looked like she wanted to argue but you held her tighter.

“Ellie,” you said. “Promise me.”

“But…”

“Promise me!” You yelled it, loud enough that you saw Savvy flinch out of the corner of your eye.

“I promise,” she said, crying now.

It was like a weight lifted. You knew it was hours back to Jackson but, if Ellie actually kept her word, they’d make it. They would be safe. That was all that mattered.

“Thank you,” you pulled her in for another hug, kissing her cheek as you did. “I love you so much. Take care of yourself and your dad for me, OK?”

“I love you too,” she breathed.

You gave her a final squeeze and went for Savvy who was fighting back tears.

“Mom,” her voice was thick and wet. “I can’t…”

“Yes, you can,” you said gently. “Go with Ellie, do what she tells you and you’ll get back safe. Listen to Joel, stick with school, find your place in Jackson. Have a good life, OK?”

She shook her head.

“I don’t want to do it without you,” she’d given up on not crying now. “I tried to before and I don’t want that, you need to be there, Mom, I need you, I…”

“Savvy,” you said, holding her face in your hands, brushing her tear-streaked cheeks with your thumbs. “Everything I’ve done for as long as you’ve been mine has been for you but you don’t need me now. You’re all that matters. You get back safe, you have a good life with people you love. You do that and I’ll have done everything I needed to do. So give me that, OK?”

You didn’t give her a chance to reply, just pulling her in close and holding her there, kissing her cheek as you did.

“I love you so much, baby girl,” you whispered.

“I love you, too,” she said.

You stepped back and looked at them for a moment before casting a glance at Cody.

“They need weapons.”

“That wasn’t part of the deal.”

You rounded on him.

“Give them weapons,” you said through clenched teeth. “Or I’ll kill as many of your men as I can between here and Mitchum.”

He smirked a little before jerking his head in the direction of one of his men. They surrendered knives you recognized - ones you were sure Ellie and Savvy had come here with - and your axe.

“Better get going,” Cody said. “Before I change my mind.”

You just nodded and watched them go, Ellie and Savvy looking back at you as long as they could, Ellie pulling Savvy along side her as they went. You kept looking at the place where they’d been long after you couldn’t see them anymore.

“Alright Doll,” Cody said eventually, stepping forward with cuffs in his hands. “Wrists together. Not about to risk you changing your mind on that deal. You’re a little too valuable and it’s time for me to cash in.”

***

“Joel.”

Tommy sounded desperate. Joel ignored him.

“You can’t just take off…”

Tommy’s hand came to Joel’s shoulder but he ripped it off, rounding on his brother, moving quickly and decisively and backing the younger, smaller man into a building.

“You tryin’ to tell me I can’t protect my family?” Joel towered over him. “You gonna try and stop me?”

“Can’t do shit for them if you run out there hot headed,” Tommy said, his eyes darting over Joel’s face, like he was watching a wild animal. “You can’t help them if you’re dead, you need to wait, you need a plan…”

“I have a fuckin’ plan!” He didn’t have time for this. “Get my girls back. Don’t try to fuckin’ stop me.”

“Joel,” Maria’s voice was behind him, calm and collected. He turned to face her, ready to go through her, too, if he had to. “We have everyone out looking for them, there are no fresh horses because we sent everyone we had as soon as we could. We’re looking for their trail but they could be anywhere. Wait until we have people back to go with you, wait until we know where they went. If you run off now, you’re only going to make it worse. You’ll waste time. Give it a few hours, Joel.”

“A few hours?” He bit out. “You want me to sit here for a few fuckin’ hours while that monster has my wife and kids? Expect me to let him hurt them for hours while I fuckin’ wait?”

Maria didn’t have a chance to respond, the sound of chaos at the gate sending the three of them running for it.

Joel reached it just as three horses rode up. It took him a moment to realize they each carried more than one rider. His heart pounded. For one second - a glorious, peaceful second - he thought everything was going to be OK. That they’d found you and the girls before anything bad happened, that he was going to be able to hold the three of you close and never let you go again.

And then he realized that you weren’t there. That you’d gotten the children you shared with him back but you hadn’t made it.

“Joel!” Ellie jumped off her horse before it had fully stopped. “Joel, he has Bambi, we have to go get her, we have to.”

She threw her arms around his neck and clung to him and he could feel her taking shaky breaths.

“It’s OK Baby Girl,” he said, holding her close. “I’ve got you, you’re OK.”

“We have to go get her,” Ellie said again, frantic as she pulled back from him. “We have to.”

Joel, Tommy and Maria led the girls and a trembling Kyle to the clinic. Ellie and Savvy didn’t wait for the doctor to be done looking them over as they sat beside each other on the exam table, the story spilling out of them quickly. How they’d lied to you and snuck out of Jackson the first night he was gone. How they’d run into Cody in the woods. How Ellie threatened to kill him and Savvy didn’t understand why. How he told them to come back the next night with you. How Ellie had told Savvy everything she knew about what happened to you. How Savvy wanted to leave then and there to take care of it and Ellie had to make her wait, confident that they could handle him. How Ellie had killed men like him before, how she was sure she could do it again. How they got help from Kyle to be sure. How it had all gone to shit the second they were too far from Jackson to get help. How you’d come for them, how you’d sacrificed yourself to get the three of them out safely.

How Joel knew that’s exactly what you would do.

Because of course you would. It was exactly what he would have done. How would you have done anything else?

“We need to get her back, Joel,” Savvy was crying, pleading. “We can’t leave her there with him, we can’t, please…”

Joel looked between the two of them. He wanted to scream. He wanted to ask why. Why had they snuck out? Why had they tried to take matters into their own hands? Why had they put themselves in such danger? Didn’t they know, if they failed, you’d have no choice? That you would do anything for them? That he would, too?

But yelling and questioning wouldn’t do any good. What was done was done. Taking his fear out on them would only make shit worse.

“I’m gonna get her back, Baby Girl,” Joel said. “I’m gonna bring her home.”

He turned and gave Tommy a look, half begging for help, half daring him to stop him. Tommy just squared his jaw and gave him a single, firm nod. Joe returned it and the went to leave, but Ellie stopped them, catching them on the porch of the clinic.

“I’m coming, too.”

“No,” Joel shook his head. “No, you’re stayin’ here…”

“No,” she said sharply, a fierce look in her eyes. “I’m going. I can help, I know…”

“It don’t matter,” Joel cut her off. “Not putting you at risk…”

“I don’t care about the risk!” She snapped. “You can’t just expect me to sit here on my ass while she’s out there…”

“You think she’d want you gettin’ hurt for her?” Joel grabbed Ellie by the shoulders and held her tighter than he should. “She took care of you by…”

“By cleaning up a fucking mess I made!” She yelled before closing her eyes for a moment, a single tear slipping down her cheek. She took a deep, centering breath before opening her eyes again, voice calmer now. “I never had parents, Joel. I never had anyone who loved me like that until you and then she showed up and she didn’t have any fucking reason to care about me like that but she did. She’s my mom and I got her hurt because I tried to handle shit on my own. I’m not handling it on my own now, I’m handling it with you. I know what you’re capable of. I know what you’re going to do. I’m telling you that I don’t want to be here when you do it, I want to be with you. I want to get her back and I want to make him fucking pay and I can’t do that from Jackson. So are you going to let me come with you or are you going to make me sneak out and try to handle this shit on my own again?”

Joel looked to his brother. He’d done shit like this more times than he cared to count but only twice with stakes as high as this. Every time, it was either alone or with Tommy at his side. He knew he wouldn’t be able to do what he normally did with Ellie there. He’d be worrying about her, watching for her, protecting her.

But they were out numbered and Ellie was a strong rider who was smart and good with a gun.

“She’s an adult, Joel,” Tommy said hesitantly. Joel could see in his eyes that he was thinking about William, if he would let his son do something so reckless if he had any say. “And she does a good job on patrol.”

Joel took a deep breath.

“You gotta listen,” he said. Ellie was already nodding quickly. “Do what I say so I can keep us all safe. I tell you to get back to Jackson, you do it. If you’re a liability out there, you’re makin’ things worse for her, not better. Got it?”

“Yes.”

“Repeat it.”

“What you say goes,” she said, watching him closely. “I won’t fuck up, Dad. I promise.”

In another time, another place, Joel’s heart would have soared in that moment. Just knowing that Ellie saw him the same way he saw her made him feel complete in a way he didn’t realize he was missing.

But he wasn’t able to enjoy it. There was another vital piece of him that was gone, one he was going to get back if it was the last thing he ever did.

“OK,” he said, looking at Ellie. “Let’s go get your mom.”

A/N: Figured we'd kick off the more feral part of this fic with some Feral!Bambi. Don't worry, Feral!Joel fans, he's up next ❤️ As always, thank you so so much for reading and for sticking it out with this fic! I know it's been a long one. I'm glad you're still here. Love you!

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#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #yearling #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc

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intoanotherworld23 · 12 hours

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Light My Skin On Fire

Summary: you absolutely loved when Joel would put his hands on you

Warnings: mdni 18+, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, slightly dom Joel, minor spanking, edging, praise kink, dirty talk

A/N: if anyone wishes to be added to my Pedro/or Joel tag list please let me know and I’ll be happy to add you. Heart, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and supportive. Thanks! XOXO

Hall of Hunks

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Tag list for everything: @iam-laiya @rosie-posie08 @madzleigh01 @alwaysclassyeagle @mytbel0st @shanimallina87 @marvelstarker-mha98 @powellssugarbaby @lora21 @kmc1989

Joel miller was the epitome of sex. Fucking you cruelly pounding your tight hole with no mercy whatsoever. His firm grip on your body was sure to leave marks almost like you were a canvas for him to draw on. Cries of pleasure leaving your lips calling out only his name.

"That feel good sweetheart?" He hisses directly into your ear as a hand comes down on your backside. A jolt coursing through your body at the impact making him snicker. Encouraging him to spank you again and again until he could see the outline of his handprint on your skin.

"Mmmm it feels so good." Nodding your head as you turned your cheek to lay against the marble table that you were currently bent over. Lost in the intoxicating bliss of his touch your mind in a whole other world.

"That's it baby fuck yourself against my cock." He encouraged when he noticed you started to back your hips back to meet his. Keeping himself still for a few minutes and let you have control for a little bit. Loving to see this side of you that would come out of nowhere.

Tears glistening in your eyes as he pushed his hips harder against you your body being pushed forward on the table. Breasts rubbing against the table sending shivers down your spine. His lips warm and eager as they trailed across your shoulder leaving a trail of saliva across your skin.

"You're incredibly tight for me baby." His deeps voice drips with praise as his thrusts quicken. Moving your hands in front of you splayed out as you gripped the end of the table. "Don't know how much longer I can keep going."

Thick warm hands gripping your flesh as he squeezed the fat in the palm of his hands. Relishing in the softness of your curves. If there was one thing Joel loved it was to always be touching you. Watching as goosebumps would appear on your skin when he touched a certain spot.

"Oh my god." You whimpered closing your eyes shut as the senses started to overwhelm you, and you could feel the heat swarming your body. Feeling the stretch of your walls every time he pushed himself all the way into your gut.

Sex with Joel was always mind blowing, and definitely had you feeling sore for several days. He knew all the right places to touch, and right words to say. Joel knew your body inside and out even when you think he didn't he could surprise you by awakening a new kink. He was adventurous and just wanting to explore new horizons with you.

"Use that pretty mouth and tell me how good it feels." He demands as he stills his hips his voice laced with a mocking tone. The words stuck in the back of your throat as you struggled to speak any words.

"Come on baby, tell me how good I'm fucking this cunt." Pulling back then slamming his body straight into yours with full force a scream leaving your lips.

"It feels so fucking good Joel." Relentlessly pushing and pulling you back until all you could muster was gasps and whimpers.

Joel always thought you looked the most beautiful with makeup smeared down your face, and a glazed over look in your eyes. If he could take a picture of your face every time he would have enough to make a book describing each moment.

"I know you're so close sweetheart." He cooed as he leaned forward his chest pressed to your back kissing under your ear sucking on the flesh nibbling down hard enough to make you cry out. Reaching a hand between your bodies slithering his way to your swollen clit. Rubbing the nub in rhythmic circles alongside his thrusting. The feeling was becoming overwhelming as your head started to spin and your vision was becoming blurry.

"'M right there baby let go. Wanna feel that creamy cunt cum around me." Grunting and growling like a wild animal as he could feel himself getting closer. Your moans and whimpers getting louder as your knees started to buckle making it harder to stay still.

"Come on you know that's all I want." He begged as you recognized the familiar clench of your stomach around his length. Using the table to keep yourself propped up entire body going limp. Tummy sagging from the intensity and pure exhaustion as you just continued to lay there. Legs shaking as he fucks you with reckless drive.

Large hands palming the rounds of your ass as he uses you as leverage. Flesh jiggling and sticking to his thighs as the coil in your stomach becomes painfully tight. A low arch to your spine as he plunged deep inside your guts and hit that sweet spot.

"Fuck me that's it I'm cumming I'm gonna cum in that sweet cunt of yours." You whine with various cries his cock twitching aggressively inside of you.

A sharp gasp escapes him as he can feel you clenching your tight walls around him a warm liquid flood around his cock. Keeping still as he squirts his seed in your raw cunt some of it leaking out and dripping down your thighs. The feeling was ticklish but your legs trembled with ferocity that you didn't care.

It was as if someone turned on the hose as he pulled out swiftly watching yours and his fluids descend to the ground. In awe that you were able to hold that much inside your stuffy and swollen cunt. Keeping hold of your body and he helped ease you through your long orgasm. A sheen of sweat glistening your body like a diamond.

"Fucked that delicious cunt so good." He proudly stated as you tried to involuntarily push that last of the milky substance from your body. Licking your dry lips trying to obtain some type of moisture.

"So proud of you my sweet girl. You did so good for me." Praising as he now rubbed his hands up and down your sides soothingly this time. Such sweet words had you weakly smile as your eyes started to grow heavy. Thinking it was over but mistaken when you felt the soft push of his swollen head into your throbbing cunt.

"And I need more." He growls.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #Pedro pascal blurb #pedro pascal imagines #Pedro pascal fanfiction #Joel miller #Joel miller x reader #Joel miller smut #Joel miller blurb #Joel miller imagines #Joel miller fanfiction

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lvndrdaaze · 2 days

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OMG HI MY FAVORITE TUMBLR CREATOR I have an idea >>:D WHAT IFF Your favorite Genshin Men (Diluc) come home extremely late ((2:00 am late)) and you are MAD. So- after you express how you feel (NICELY OFCCC❤️❤️) they feel so bad that they spoil you ROTTEN. Anddd if you doo— then uhh I'll sing... SWAY BY MICHAEL BUBLÉ!!!

(Honestly— Micheal Bublé reminds me so much of Diluc idk why) ALSO TYY FOR TGD WRIOTHESLEY ALPHABET!!!

——🎵🎶🎼Anon (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

aaaaaaaa i'm sorry this took so long to get out (つ﹏⊂) i hope you like it!! i put my whole pussy into this one just for you <33

(also i've never thought about it but now that you mention it...yeah diluc does give michael bublé vibes ._. and now i'll never un-notice it)

Warnings: SMUT, includes use of 'pussy' and 'cunt', light hurt/comfort, crying, insecurities, oral (f!receiving), p in v, missionary, mating press, breeding kink (if you squint), biting, squirting

(fem!reader, NSFW so no minors!!)

Wc: 2.6k

The Dawn Winery was always quiet at this time of night, though you weren't usually awake to notice it. With the maids asleep and all other business concluded for the day, the only sounds in the manor's entrance hall were the crackling of the fire and the rush of blood in your ears.

Diluc was out again, fulfilling his self-imposed duties as he did every night.

Not once had you ever complained, knowing that the Darknight Hero was something of a coping mechanism for Diluc, but tonight, something about the quiet of the manor caused all of that repressed loneliness to well up from deep within your bones, streaming out in sorrowful trickles from where it had been locked away for so long.

You sat at one end of the sofa, staring into the fire. It reminded you so much of him, not only for the obvious reason of his pyro vision, but because of the burning intensity of it. Once, he would have been beside you, red eyes crackling with that same passion that few others recognised in him, hands exploring your skin like a new world made just for him.

But now, you were alone. All you wanted was for him to come home and take up the other seat, to take his place beside you and stay for a while. There were no doubts in your mind as to his adoration for you, you saw it anytime he spent so much as a few moments by your side. It was his dedication to protecting the city that drew him away from you, forcing more and more distance between the both of you.

If only his feelings of guilt weren't so much stronger than his love for you.

When the door to the Winery suddenly swung open, you were startled out of your reverie. Shooting a glance over your shoulder to watch him enter, you read the exhaustion written in every movement he made like a story you had read a million times before. His claymore was propped against the wall and his coat hung on the rack before he noticed you sitting there.

As soon as he did, his eyebrows furrowed. Even with such a look of concern, it felt good to have his eyes on you once again.

"Love?" He called out to you, consternation tinging his low voice. "What are you still doing up?"

How could you answer that? The truth, that you had been aching for him to return and spare you even a single glance, would only weigh him down further. The worst thing you felt you could possibly be in this moment was a burden to him; that would only push him further away.

"Just couldn't sleep." You lied easily, giving him what you hoped was a convincingly relaxed smile.

However, Diluc's frown only grew deeper.

"Love…you're crying." He pointed out gently, not yet moving from his spot in front of the sturdy wooden doors.

With a swipe of your fingers across your cheek, you found that he was right. They came away wet, glistening in the warm firelight.

"Oh…" You hadn't even noticed them until now, but suddenly, your lip trembled with the emotions just barely being held back. "It's nothing, don't worry about it."

But your placating words only seemed to make him worry more. In an instant, he had crossed the room, kneeling before you and cupping your damp cheeks in his hands with a troubled look in his eyes.

"Please don't lie to me." He requested quietly. His thumbs swiped delicate lines beneath your eyes, clearing the tears that collected there.

His intense gaze was filled with such deep concern, such apparent care, it felt impossible to hide your feelings from him any longer, despite not wanting to cause him any more strain.

With a light sniffle, you dropped your gaze from his to your lap, staring down at your fidgeting fingers as they twisted around each other fretfully.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to trouble you, I just…"

Your words faltered, and tears clouded your vision once again, streaming down your cheeks in hot rivulets. Diluc stroked your skin soothingly, waiting patiently for your words.

"I miss you, Luc." Your voice was barely above a whisper. "You've been so busy recently, and I don't want to take up your time when you've got so much on your plate already, but I just feel so…lonely."

The air was still for a few seconds after your admission, until you chanced a look up at his face. His expression was stormy, clouded with irritation, causing your stomach to drop. Of course, you were demanding too much of the man who already had so many people depending on him. With a shake of your head, you pulled away from his gentle touch.

"I'm sorry, I don't want to be a burden. I'll be fi-."

"No." Diluc cut you off with a firm shake of his head, taking your hands into his with the utmost conviction. "Don't apologise. Never apologise for taking up my time."

Your lip quivered once again, the vehement tone of his voice only making your guilt feel that much stronger. Of course, Diluc would be understanding. Why had you even tried to hide your feelings in the first place?

"No matter how busy I am, you are always my priority. I apologise for failing to show you that, my love." He spoke in a low voice.

One hand released yours as he wiped the tears from your eyes again, tilting your gaze up to meet his fiercely passionate one.

"Allow me to make it up to you, love." He murmured in a voice so gentle the steady crackle of the fireplace almost drowned it out.

His gaze was heavy on your rapidly easing expression as he approached slowly and grazed his lips over yours faintly. The aching tenderness of his mouth, the smoky scent clinging to his clothes, the warmth of his body so close yet so far, everything about the moment was so overwhelming. A soft whimper escaped you as he coaxed you into a careful kiss, easing your sadness with every reassuring brush of his lips against yours.

In your desperation to prolong the feeling, your hands gripped his shirt tightly, wrinkling the fine material in your fists. With his gloved hand cradling your jaw, he tipped your head back just slightly, providing him a better angle to glide his hot tongue against your lips as he deepened the kiss.

His free hand came down to rest on your thigh, skimming over the shape of your leg beneath your dress in a way that made you tremble with barely repressed want. Diluc noticed the shiver that ran up your spine at that slightest touch, and with a low rumble from deep within his chest, his wandering hand groped more firmly at the plushness of your thighs and his tongue tangled with yours in a display of his own growing need.

Your heart was racing faster than you thought was possible, the sound of blood rushing in your ears all you could hear. No thoughts made their way past the overwhelming feelings he caused to blossom within you. Eager fingers found their way to his nape, tugging the hair tie from his hair and threading through the fiery red locks. Diluc let out a groan at the feeling, and in an instant, his arms were looping under your thighs, scooping you off the sofa easily.

"Apologies, my love, I had not realised just how long it had been." He murmured, pressing one last kiss to your lips before heading towards the stairs with you in his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist tightly.

"Allow me to make this right, yes?"

The heat in the bedroom was sweltering, radiating from where the both of you laid together for the first time in several days. Your clothes had been long since discarded, and your shivering body was coated in a thin sheen of sweat.

Diluc laid between your legs, sweat gluing a few red strands to his forehead in a way that was almost lewd on its own from your vantage point among the luscious pillows of his bed. Strong hands pinned your quivering thighs to the bed insistently, preventing you from closing them whilst his tongue explored your folds as though it were the first time he had ever done it.

Archons knows how many orgasms he had pulled from you so far; your throat ached with every keen and whimper you let out, and dull heat throbbed in your stomach with every dip of his tongue into your wet entrance as yet another high approached steadily.

Diluc's eyes were clouded with a lustful haze as he paid attention to every reaction you made and the lower portion of his face glimmered wetly with your slick, but he showed no signs of stopping yet. Even by tugging on his loose hair, you were unable to draw his lips away from your aching cunt- in fact, the action only spurred him on, drawing deep rumbles from his chest in response to the sharp sensation in his scalp.

"Luc, please…" you whined, though you weren't certain what it was that you were pleading for. The stimulation was too much, the thought of another orgasm overwhelming, but the idea of him retracting his tongue was even worse.

"Shhh…just one more, love." He mumbled huskily, his eyes slipping shut in contentment.

His lips lowered to your entrance, lapping up the essence of your arousal whilst his nose nudged against your clit, sending electric waves up your spine. Wetness soaked the sheets beneath your hips, and the fine silk was rumpled messily from your writhing.

Wet sounds filled the room as Diluc slurped obscenely on your pussy, every action he made undignified and animalistic with his need to taste you, to feel the way your walls clamped around his tongue as though desperate to keep him there forever.

He dragged the hot muscle of his tongue against your core slowly, swirling around your clit once, twice, then fusing his lips around the bud and sucking. Your back arched and your eyes clenched shut, a clamorous wail tearing through you at the same time as your pleasure peaked, every muscle in your body spasming in euphoria as another orgasm crashed over you. The whole room seemed to fade away, until all that was left was Diluc's mouth, working you determinedly through the peak of your pleasure.

The sensation was so intense, it took several seconds for you to come down. His lips withdrew, peppering light kisses along your inner thighs until your eyes had fluttered open again, searching for him blearily in the darkness.

He appeared almost smug, smiling contentedly as he kissed his way back up your body, lathing his tongue over marks that he had left on his way down. He worked slowly, his hands sliding up your sides and coming to fondle your breasts greedily, rolling your nipples between his fingers whilst he ran his sinful tongue over your damp skin.

By the time he reached your lips, you were whining and bucking against the mattress once again, still not quite satiated after all of the pleasure he had given you. Lying atop you like this, his cock pulsed with need between your bodies, and the slight twitch of him was all it took to get you going again.

"Do you think you can handle one more?" He murmured against your lips, his hips rocking against your stomach, staining your skin with pearls of precum.

"Yes, gods, yes. Please, Luc, need to feel you." Your words came out as desperate sobs, and he breathed a shaky exhale as he leaned his weight onto his elbows above your shaking body.

"Archons…" Diluc whispered, his head dipping into the crook of your neck to nibble softly at the skin there. "You are simply irresistible."

Quickly, he aligned himself with your entrance, running the warm head of his cock through your folds to collect the combination of your juices and his saliva, before pressing it against your tight hole with a groan.

The stretch of him, so thick and hard as he pushed his way into your cunt, was almost more than you could handle this soon after such an intense orgasm. His pelvis ground up against your clit when he bottomed out, stuffing you full with his aching cock whilst you cried out for him.

He held himself there for a few moments, short, gasping breaths leaving his parted lips as he steadied himself. The lushness of your walls wrapped around him was too delicious to be over so soon.

"I promise, I'll never leave you alone again." He whispered, fixing his gaze on your cock-drunk expression as he delivered one slow thrust into your heat.

"I'll keep you satisfied from now on, my love. Never going to let you go without my touch again. I'll dedicate my whole life to you, okay? You'll never be lonely again, I swear."

Diluc was babbling unconsciously with every thrust he gave, all sweet words and promises in a deep, velvety voice that pushed you further into those blissful feelings.

All you could do was moan and sob incoherently in response, tears of ecstasy wetting your lashes as the shivers running up and down your spine grew more and more violent, wracking through your body in tremorous waves in time with every wet slap of his hips against yours.

Strong hands found their way under your hips, lifting them off the mattress slightly so that he could press your thighs upwards and practically fold you in half against the mattress. The tip of his cock reached even deeper inside you in this new position, and your walls pulsed around him in response to the intense sensations.

"Archons, you feel too good…" He moaned, leaning down to lathe the sensitive skin of your neck in hot, sloppy kisses that were so unlike the tender way he usually kissed you. "Gonna cum for me again, love?"

Frantically, you nodded. The invisible string in your stomach tightened until your entire body felt like a piece of elastic ready to snap as his pace only grew more animalistic. White blind spots began to grow in your vision with every invasion of his thick length into your aching hole, and your symphony of moans were surely waking up the maids on the other side of the mansion by now.

"Gonna fill you up, my love. Gonna cum so deep, you'll always have me in you." Diluc growled. His pace was faltering, each drag of his cock inside you losing their rhythm but gaining strength in his wild desperation.

Your responding whine was music to his ears, and he panted hot breaths against the sweat-slick skin of your throat.

"Luc, 'm gonna cum-" Your words came out slurred, as though drunk on the pleasure. Even your eyes could hardly stay open, so overwhelmed with extraordinary pleasure that every muscle inn your body seemed to be clenched tight.

"Me too, fuck- cum for me, darling. Let me feel you, need to feel you." He groaned, sinking his teeth into the column of your throat. "Cum for me, and I'll give you everything."

That was all it took to send you crashing over the edge into impossible pleasure. Your back arched and a loud scream of ecstasy tore out of your throat. Wetness coated his stomach as you squirted with the force of it, finally pushing him over the edge until he was crashing down to his own climax. Diluc let out a loud moan at the same time as yours, and your synchronised cries of pleasure filled the once silent Winery with the sound of your devotion.

#diluc x reader #diluc x reader smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x reader smut #diluc ragnvindr x reader

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twice-in-a-blue-moon · 2 days

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Pathetic Lucifer HCs please I am dying on the floor for this

Pathetic Lucifer HCs

Implied Sub! Lucifer x GN! Dom! reader

AN: Hello! I'm not really taking requests at the moment, but I was happy to write this for you. It was fun to consider a pathetic Luci lol. So, without further ado, I hope you enjoy! :)

Warnings: Edging, hair pulling, praise, use of sex objects (flog and vibrator), quick mention of blindfolding, mention of reader being called Master or Mistress, blowjob (Luci receiving), mention of reader having a cock but could be implied as a strap-on, restraining with the use of cuffs, rope, and silk

Minors DNI!

Pathetic Lucifer who loves it when you tug on his hair. The way your palm rests snuggly against his scalp while your fingers pull firmly at the roots… It’s enough to create a delicious tension that makes his eyes roll back as the breathiest groan slips past his lips.

Pathetic Lucifer who enjoys being restrained. On days you’re feeling rougher, he’ll squirm more as the handcuffs or rope rubs his skin raw, leaving harsh reddened marks from where the material bites into his flesh. He knows you’ll care for his abused skin later. And on days you feel softer with him, silk ribbon wraps around his wrists in a delicate embrace. It makes him feel small and vulnerable.

Pathetic Lucifer who adores when you flog him. It’s even better if he’s blindfolded. He loves the way the tassels of soft leather slap against his chest and stomach as he squirms under the sensation. This is something he enjoys on softer days, so praise him a little. Talk him through it.

Pathetic Lucifer who allows you to tease him while he’s restrained, going so far as to edge him. Twist and pull at his nipples as you hold a vibrator to his aching cock. Listen to him pant and moan from the intensity of the toy. Watch as his lip trembles and his eyes water when you move the vibrator just before he can cum.

Pathetic Lucifer who puts his pride aside and actually begs for more – begs for anything, just so long as it’s you who’s in charge. Don’t be surprised if he calls you a pet name, such as Master or Mistress, to get what he wants. If he’s feeling extra desperate, he’ll get on his knees to beg.

Pathetic Lucifer who lets you slip under his desk while he’s working. You’ll free his cock to suck him off as his cheeks turn bright red from how absolutely wonderful you feel. He’s further turned on when someone comes in and he has to act normal as you continue to take him. The only indicator is the curling of his toes underneath his desk… And maybe once they’ve turned their backs to leave, his eyes will roll back as he silently spills into your mouth.

Pathetic Lucifer who often asks to ride you in his desk chair. He’s worked so hard, so welcome him up into your lap and let him bounce on your cock for awhile as a reward. Let him whine and whimper into your neck as he takes you. Rub his arching back, squeeze his asscheeks, spread them wider, buck into him and meet him in his bounces.

Pathetic Lucifer who loses control of his volume during a particularly rough session, causing you to clamp a hand over his mouth. It’s rare if he gets this loud, but even though you’re covering his mouth, you continue to egg him to be louder or tease him about being so loud. And definitely make sure to tease him afterwards for a flustered, blushy Lucifer treat.

#obey me #obey me smut #obey me lucifer smut #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me headcanons #jo writes spice

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ghouljams · 2 days

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https://www.tumblr.com/ghouljams/749130351187820544?source=share

SOAP?!

If there is one headcanon that I should not have it's that Soap loves the sun. I know it's funny to think he burns like nothing else but I think he tans(mostly because I wanna lick the lines of his farmers tan who said that)

He's an absolute menace about it in the Cowboy au. While Ghost is out here getting burned, him and Goose are getting a nice glow about them. If no one else is at the farm you better believe he's out working on evening out those tan lines(the vane son of a bitch) especially if he's been told to wait on your delivery...

cw: predicament bondage, public play, outdoor sex, fingering, oral(m!receiving), religion play, dubcon, Minors Do Not Interact

There isn't anyone at the gate to greet you. Which is fine. You're used to doing deliveries when no one is home. That's why you ask for payment in advance. Usually the Price ranch is bustling though. Whatever. You hop out of your truck to open the gate and pass through, making your way down the gravel drive to the main house.

Goose said to drop the goods in the back, so that's what you do. Park in your usual spot out front then hop out to start getting this over with. You grab the bottles of moonshine she ordered off the back of your truck and take the familiar, well worn path, to the back of the house. You're just about to go up the steps to get the bottles settled when you spot him.

Johnny, in all his glory, lays on the porch. His eyes are closed, head tipped towards the sun as its rays cast shallow shadows over his torso. His chest moves with deep breaths, relaxed and enjoying his solitude. Your eyes follow the dark hair that swirls between and over his pecs down his abs and to the soft cock between his legs. You don't think you realized how much hair he had. It's dark over his thigh, between the soft muscle of his abs, over his stomach. You're staring, you know you're staring, but you can't help it. You've never seen Johnny when he wasn't hard, it's not like he spares any sweetness for you, and you'd always sort of wondered... Show-er. It fits him, he's so boastful normally of course he'd have plenty to show off in the locker room.

You snap your eyes back to his face when he moves, pushes himself up onto his elbows with a crooked smile. Your cheeks burn. "Gettin' an eyeful hen?" He chirps at you, and you storm back towards your truck. It's not the sun making you warm, you know that much, but it certainly feels closer to a sunburn than anything else could. True to form Johnny grabs you before you can reach safety, pulling you tight against his chest and curling over you, with his arms around your waist. He forces you to bend and accommodate his weight, your hips hinging back to press against his. You can feel the warmth of his skin even through your clothes, soaked in sunlight and with everything to show for it.

"Now why would you go runnin' off like that?" He hums, his voice all too close to your ear. You shake your head, try to avoid the way he nuzzles close, presses his lips against your neck. The gentleness shivers through you, you have no defense against it. Your fingers tighten on the jugs of moonshine you're holding just enough to remind you you're holding them. Remind you what you're doing here through the fog that is John Mactavish.

"I'm trying to make a delivery," You tell him, "didn't anyone ever tell you not to walk around naked where other people can see?"

Johnny hums against your neck, "You're the first one." You highly doubt that. You elbow him in the ribs and it does shit all. He's solid, barely lets out a breath at your effort. That hurts your pride a little, makes your blood run a little hotter too, but you ignore that part.

"You come to see me?" Johnny asks, like you didn't just tell him what you were here for. You don't rise to his bait.

"Absolutely not!" You bite back, giving him another elbow.

"You sure? Nothin' I can dae to change your mind?" He grinds his hips against your ass and you stiff at the press of his cock. Fucking hell. He's hard at the drop of a hat you swear. You're honestly not sure if Johnny's a man or a dog the way he paws at you.

"Bother someone else," You snap.

"Tell me to get off," He retorts. You- ok, well you don't really have a come back for that. The only one you could think of would be to tell him to get off but there's any number of ways he could spin that. (Not to mention how nice it is feeling him pressed against you like this, all cuddled up nice and warm from the sun. He smells like sunshine and hay, like the cedar of the porch and whatever sun lotion he was using.)

You take too long with deciding your next words and Johnny moves his hand to palm between your legs, dragging your skirt with his greedy fingers. He cups your sex and holds there, his thumb rubbing at the fabric of your skirt as your hips try to figure out which part of him to jerk away from. It's unfortunate how badly just the presence of his hand makes you want to beg. A gentle pressure against your cunt, more than pants, but less than what you want. Your skirt is in the way, you think that might be the issue.

You move to grab your sk- to grab Johnny's hand, and find again that your hands are otherwise occupied by the two jugs of moonshine. Johnny hums, rubs his hand, rubs your skirt, against your cunt. "This what you wanted hen?" He asks, voice a low rumble in your ear, his breath hot against your already burning cheek. He bunches your skirt up in his fist, pulling it up, up, up. Your eyes fix on the open gate so far up the drive, as Johnny's fingers trace over the edge of your panties, your skirt draping over his tattooed forearm.

He's just teasing the skin, feeling over the lace, waiting for you to shudder as chilly desperation rolls over you. He kisses your neck, strokes over your stomach, pinching the soft skin appreciatively. You make a soft pained noise, your hips pushing away from the feeling, back against his cock. You can feel the curve of his smile as he pushes his fingers into your panties. Skates them over your skin and down to rub at your clit. Heat pulses in your core as he pushes lower, peels the sticky satin away from your wet cunt and dips his digits over your entrance.

"Johnny," You huff, trying to keep your voice as far from whining as possible, "I'm holding somethin'."

"Then you better be careful not to drop it," is his even response. His calloused fingers stroke over your cunt, pulling wetness from your leaking hole up to circle your clit. Back and forth. He pulls up to circle your clit once, dips down to circle your entrance. A nice little figure eight going back and forth between where you want him and where you really want him.

You drop your head, watching the blind movement of his hand between your legs like you could get some idea of what his play is. You never know, he keeps you on your toes even on good days. Now your brows draw together in a pout, your hips following the teasing as the circles draw more and more heat in the pit of your stomach. You want him to press inside, you want him to rub your clit until you're shaking, you want him to do anything other than this. You whine the next time he circles your entrance and he stops.

"There she is," He coos, thrusting his finger inside, "can't hide from me, can you?" You shake your head, the way he pushes and pulls, in and out of your drooling cunt, your panties forcing the heel of his hand against your clit, is exactly what you need. You rock onto his finger, feel him curl and stroke at your walls. Thicker than your own fingers but still not enough. One finger just lets you know how empty you are, the grind of his hand against your clit making you clench around the digit as electric heat zips through you.

"You're so loose little nun," Johnny's teeth scrape against your pulse, his hand pulling back to press a second finger into you, "Been servin' our lord on your back, haven't ya?"

"Shut up," You whine. His fingers twist inside you, jab against your sweet spot so your stomach tightens and your fingers slip. The weight of your burden loosens and you rush to keep the jugs from falling. Your fingers tightening as you raise your arms from their place at your side. Hands out of the way you can't stop Johnny from thrusting his fingers into you hard and fast, twisting and stroking with each push. Your eyes roll, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. You want to arch into the feeling but Johnny keeps you trapped where you are.

"Not on your back," Johnny tuts, "on your knees then. Warmin' the priest's cock in that bonnie mouth of yours." Your clit throbs at the dirty talk, your hips grinding against his hand for more. He keeps working you on his fingers, the rough drag of his callouses a delicious burn that you ache for more of. If it were his cock...

But it isn't. You chase the tingling heat the zips through your clit, the familiar drag of stimulation, and clench on the fingers that fill you. Johnny drags his tongue over your pulse, kisses your jaw, tugs at your earlobe with his teeth. His hips grind against your ass, a reminder of how his cock must be aching, you can feel it wetting your skirt. Your cunt clenches, Johnny pushes his fingers harder, jabs at your sweet spot until you're moaning. Leaned forwards with your legs starting to shake, and your hips rutting into his touch like a wanton animal. Desperate. You look towards the fence again.

It's a long drive, far from the road, but still. The sun beats down on you hot, and the air breezes past with a lazy pace that makes you wonder if God really is watching(and enjoying). Johnny seems to have similar thoughts.

"You hopin' someone'll see you?" If you couldn't feel his smile you could hear it, all teeth and mean, "Maybe they'd come help me ruin ya, split ya open on two cocks instead of one. Ya like that?" You shake your head and he hums. "No? Thought a whore like you would wanna see how much she can take."

"Just you," You mumble, whimper really, it's pathetic. You can't even think the words that tumble from your mouth, you can't say where they come from. But they seem to focus Johnny, make him hit that soft spongy spot near your entrance with more precision, make him coo in your ear and thumb at your clit.

"Just me hen, just me," He mumbles, softer, more possessive. His free hand travels up to squeeze your tit as he fucks his fingers into you with the same determination he usually reserves for his cock. "Ahm the only one that gets you, only one that can make ya come, and touch ya how ya want." You nod, your muscles starting to lock up with how tight your stomach is turning. The heat is unbearable, unmanageable, your legs shake and your breath hitches. "Come for me darlin', baby, lemme ruin these panties."

You do. You absolutely ruin them. You soak them, orgasm ripping through you and gushing. Johnny moans against your neck as you squirt on his fingers, barely keeping yourself standing as your legs turn to Jell-O. He only pulls his fingers from you to circle your clit, making you jerk into his touch as aftershocks pulse through you. You pant, your eyes unfocused on the world around you as your skirt falls back into place.

Johnny spins you around and you drop to your knees, his stiff cock bobbing in front of your face. The moonshine settled on the gravel you reach to grip his thighs. Warm skin, thick, dark hair. He grips the base tight, slaps it against your lips until you open for him. You don't even get a breath before he's shoving you down to the base. Thick cock stretching out your throat as you try to wiggle closer, tickle your nose with the thick curls at the base. "There you go," Johnny grins, cupping the back of your head, "cannae leave withou' your tip, can you?"

#cod x reader #x reader #x oc #cod x oc #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #john mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap call of duty #soap cod #soap mw2 #soap x reader #f!reader #oc: moon #cowboy au #mdni

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ooihcnoiwlerh · 1 day

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Happy Sunday, my Darlings! I have a new Feyd-Rautha/Reader chapter up! (18+ Only)

Tags for this chapter: arranged marriage; dubious consent; breeding kink; overstimulation; blood kink; period sex; pain kink; oral sex (m+ and f+ receiving); vaginal sex; Feyd-Rautha who is his own walking content warning; problematic smut; slow emotional burn; Feyd-Rautha having the most insane recovery period; discussions of pregnancy; implied/referenced past abuse; implied/referenced self-harm

Tags and notes for this story overall and full chapter below the cut. Please let me know if you would like to be tagged when I update!

CW for the entire fic: arranged marriage; forced marriage; forced pregnancy; dubious consent; implied/referenced child abuse; implied/referenced sexual abuse; implied/referenced incest; sadomasochism; pain kink; rough sex; problematic smut; vaginal sex; vaginal fingering; oral sex; blood kink; breeding kink; orgasm denial; eventual switching

Just as a note: this fic was going to be a lot shorter and completely plotless but that was 40k words ago and there's no end in sight, so I'm going to make some minor edits and rewrites to earlier chapters, but this story will end up factoring into the greater plot of the story.

Chapter Five: Playin' with Fire Burns a Little Bit

He keeps his word. It’s still somewhat dark outside when you wake to a hard cock against your backside and an arm wrapped around you, and you remember where you are and what happened.

Your ass doesn’t sting as much as it did last night; the more pressing matter is that Feyd-Rautha’s cock is slotted against the small of your back, just over the slope of your backside, and his arm that’s been looped around your ribcage is moving. His palm presses against your stomach. You give a soft grunt as you shift in his grasp and he raises himself up on his opposite elbow to get a good look at your face and your now-opened eyes.

“You’re awake,” he notes, voice even rougher first thing in the morning, and with that information decides to slide his hand from your ribcage to your crotch.

“You really meant it when you said first thing ,” you say, still drowsy, voice still laced with sleep.

“I have a busy schedule,” he says, rubbing down and sliding his fingertips along your slit before giving a quiet hmm as if to say, ‘ Not quite wet enough yet. Unfortunate .’ So he keeps circling your bud, nuzzling against your neck and jaw as you start to warm up, your breaths getting shorter.

When he wrings your first gasp out of you, he brings his fingertips back to your slit and gets the affirmation he wants that he’s getting you wet, enough that he can commence with his actual plans for you. In any case, you’re wide awake now.

You remind yourself that this isn’t the most depraved thing you’ve heard of on Geidi Prime. You don’t have to remind yourself that even as off-putting a concept it is, it felt great last night.

He turns you on your back and wastes no further time bringing his head between your legs. He takes just a moment to smell the blood between your thighs before he’s alternating between licking over you, wriggling his tongue inside of you, and suckling at your bud.

This time your hands are free to explore, to press against the back of his neck and scratch along his shoulders and biceps, to cup your own breasts to add to the stimulation until he covers them with his own.

He’s good at this , you realize, head falling back against the covers, hips arching up, and you have no frame of reference, no comparison for this, so it’s just a feeling. You’re pretty sure he likes this, likes the way you taste perhaps in part because of the blood coming out of you, and you’re willing to set aside how morbid that is if he keeps this up. You pant and moan, unconsciously grinding against his mouth and he lets you, lets you grip the back of his head as your breath comes in harsh and your entire body flushes hot. You couldn’t form a coherent sentence if your life depended on it.

Your whimpers turn into a warning, one that he ignores as he keeps going, pulling back only to spit on his thumb and bring it to your bud as he presses his tongue back inside of you. He doesn’t let up, either, when you shake and come, trembling against his mouth. If anything it spurs him on, giving you too much.

You wish he had hair so you could tug on it to pull him away and give you a moment to cool down. You’ve never just kept on going after coming and it’s too much, it’s too intense. And that, apparently, is the idea because he keeps your hips pulled to him, his face still buried in between your legs. You groan, frustrated, knocking your head back against your pillow as your hips clench and you give another spasm.

He rocks his hips against the bed, devolving into grunts and moans against your sensitive skin, like this might be what sends him over the edge, too. Not that you realize it yet but he actually could. If he chose to, he could let the friction between his cock and the sheets below him get him there. But that would be a waste of his seed that he’s bent on spilling inside of you.

So after a minute he pulls away so he can sit up and flip you onto your stomach, pulls you up by your hips, and takes a moment to look at the remnants of the damage he did last night. It must be still sufficiently red and look as tender as it feels because he wastes no time squeezing the cheeks of your ass, probably smirking at your responding pained whine.

He chose this position on purpose, you realize. You’re still sore from last night, and you’ll feel the sting of his hips slapping against your ass, especially at the punishing pace he often sets. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as he quickly, wordlessly, assures you this morning’s no different.

When he makes a ponytail out of your hair and tugs, spurred on by the noises you’re making, you wonder about the collars in the armoire. Are those because women on Geidi Prime don’t have hair to pull? Or will he use those collars on you, too?

He starts talking; a little unusual for him, since he doesn’t normally talk while he’s inside of you, but the words spill out of his chest in his gravely timbre. You just have no idea what he’s saying, it’s all guttural Harkonnen battle language that you haven’t learned yet.

You barely manage to hold your upper body upright, and you’re sure that’s mostly because of Feyd-Rautha’s grip on your hair. He stops talking altogether and his speech devolves back into grunts and growls with each snap of his hips that almost drown out your moans and whimpers.

And then it’s done, he comes, one hand clutching your hip and the other still buried in your hair. For a few moments he stays there, still holding you onto him as he begins to soften, then he moves his hand from your hair to your stomach, coaxing you up until your back aligns with his chest. He breathes in, shifting his hand upwards until it curls loosely around your neck, which you turn in alarm to try and face him. Your blood is quickly drying, tacky and dark, on his mouth as he tilts his head and presses those blood-stained lips to yours. He only gives your neck the lightest of squeezes, a reminder of what he’s capable of but not a real threat, before moving his hand to your breast, palming it roughly. He keeps at it, kissing and fondling every exposed part of you he can reach until he gets hard again and you gasp at the feel of it, him filling out and stiffening inside of you once more.

Is this…normal? It can’t be, right? You’d probably have heard about it if it was.

He’s not a normal man , you have to remind yourself.

He took you in this position a couple of nights ago, when he had you brace your hands against the headboard as he fucked you, but right now the headboard’s too far away and so you rely on him holding you onto him, one of your hands reaching behind you to grab his hip as the other rubs down against your bud, your cries high and reedy as your fingers brush so close to where he’s pistoning in and out of you. His grunts and growls against your ear grow ragged; you half-expect him to snap his jaws and sink his teeth into your neck for the animalistic way he fucks you, like being inside of you makes him an even baser and more primitive creature. It makes you rub harder, feeling helpless to do anything else.

He lets you come this time.

For a full minute afterwards, he holds you to him, his breath going from panting back to normal, his pulse slowing back down, before he wordlessly tilts your hips forward and coaxes you on to your front before pulling out of you. You shut your eyes for a moment, hearing the telltale sounds of him padding over to the bathroom and take a moment to readjust yourself, shifting to lie on your side, waiting for him to come out.

When he does, his face and cock have been cleaned off and he heads for the dresser, and you’re about to get up to use the bathroom for yourself when he starts talking.

“I’ll grab you again in three hours for breakfast,” he says as he reaches into his drawers for clothes to train in. “When you didn’t show up yesterday my uncle was concerned that I may have been too much for you and wanted to verify that you’re still in one piece.”

“Was he really?” you ask. The best opinion the Baron seems to have of you is one of polite indifference; an adequate broodmare for the Harkonnen line.

“Harkonnen men can get overzealous,” he says. “He wants to make sure that I’m taking care of my new bride.”

That’s one way to put it , you think, shifting again to sit on the edge of the bed. It’s an effort, and even though the sheets are soft you can’t help but wince at the feeling of them against your well-used backside.

“Fine. I might get an hour or two of sleep before then.” You could certainly use it; your husband has certainly proved his stamina and energy in bed.

He glances over at you as he reaches for a training shirt. “I’m going to have a door installed connecting your quarters to mine. It’ll make it easier for us to meet at night,” he says, as if it wasn’t already easy. “Save us the trouble of having to get dressed before and afterwards.”

You could almost laugh. It would figure that’s his reasoning.

“Alright, I’ll be up in just a second.”

You’re a little surprised he’s not openly smug about how he wears you out. You’d almost expect him to joke about how hard it is to keep up with him, but he must realize he doesn’t have to. The way your legs shake a little as you walk over to your discarded clothing, the way you wince as you bend over to pick them up, speak for themselves. He does watch you, though, the rest of his clothes momentarily forgotten, as if trying to commit the sight of you to memory before you leave.

**********

You manage to get another hour’s sleep in which you quickly realize that sleeping on your back is out of the question for now.

Idrisa comes in shortly after you wake up to bring you water and coffee and prepare a bath for you. You’re so grateful for it that you could cry, hissing as the water hits your backside.

Idrisa peers in, concerned. “Everything alright, Na-Baroness?” she asks.

You look over at her. “Would you be so kind as to get me a glass of water and one of those menstrual pain tablets?” you ask.

**********

You finish getting ready just in time for the Na-Baron to greet you in what you’ve gathered is his typical politician’s attire; black, clearly high-end and well-tailored material to show off his form. Too formal to train in but fitted for ease of movement. He has a holster on his thigh that holds a knife in its scabbard.

He gives you his arm for you to take; it’s almost whiplash how he oscillates between fucking you like a beast and having you on his arm like a courtly gentleman, but you accept and stroll down the hall together in silence for a moment.

He looks ahead as he says, “It’s going to be uncomfortable for you to sit down for a couple of days.”

“I figured that out earlier, but thank you,” you say.

“He’s going to notice and he’s going to bait you. Don’t acknowledge it. Getting flustered will just add fuel to the fire,” he adds.

“ You like seeing my discomfort,” you tell him.

His jaw tightens. He opens his mouth enough to run his tongue–strangely pink despite everything else being black–over his teeth before he clicks his tongue against them. “I like it for my own amusement, not his,” he says.

You reach the Dining Hall, with a spread being set out. It’s already too much food for three people, but with the Baron it’s unlikely that it’ll go to waste.

You stop and curtsy as Feyd-Rautha pulls your chair out for you.

“Good morning, Baron,” you say, face downcast, waiting for him to give you a nod before you sit down.

Feyd wasn’t lying, sitting in a chair’s even worse than sitting on a bed. You try not to shift around to get more comfortable; you just know that they’re going to notice.

“I suppose you’re still adjusting to Geidi Prime and married life?” the Baron asks you. You know he really means, Still adjusting to getting railed by my nephew, eh? Can’t say I’m surprised; I’ve heard that he’s hung like a donkey.

“Yes, Baron. It is getting easier, though. Everyone’s been accommodating,” you tell him as you take a sip of juice and avoid looking directly at him. He can probably sense your dislike despite your best efforts to be polite and deferential. He probably doesn’t care. He probably likes that you have to simper and fawn over how gracious he is when you wish you never had to speak to him.

“The relaxation chambers are still at your disposal, if you’ve changed your mind,” he says.

“Thank you, Baron, that’s an excellent idea.” And it is, much as you hate to admit it. All that worries you is the idea of anyone but you, Feyd, and Idrisa knowing that there’s no way that you’re pregnant yet. You’ll have to investigate first and see how bad the risk is of exposure. If word got back to the Baron…you’re certain he would be less thrilled than his nephew.

Conversation quickly turns to Arrakis. Since regaining it from the house of Atreides Rabban apparently has been struggling to overpower Fremen rebels. You’re a little taken aback that they’d be willing to discuss this in front of you and realize that it’s because you have no one to talk to about this anyways. The Atreides have been all but exterminated, not that you really knew any of them in the first place. Even Father was shocked to see how swiftly they met their end when it happened.

The Fremen, it turns out, are another story. It’s not a surprise that they can match the Harkonnens in brutality; they’re the only ones who inhabit a planet just as hostile and unforgiving as Geidi Prime and they’ve found ways to adapt to Arrakis that the Harkonnens haven’t needed to before.

“We’re going to need to train our men harder,” Feyd-Rautha says. “We’ve allowed ourselves to get complacent when we can’t afford to. The Sardaukar army helped us win back Arrakis; we need to hold ourselves to their standards. Until then, Rabban needs to stop trying to ply his ego with direct combat and use aerial strikes instead.”

The Baron looks up from his food and sits back for a moment, considering his nephew’s words with a small smile. See, this is why you’re my successor and not him, he seems to think, even when their conversation leads elsewhere. It’s the look of a man who’s playing a game he has yet to reveal, and it sticks with you for the remainder of breakfast.

What else does he have planned for his nephew?

******

Feyd-Rautha walks with you out of the Dining Hall, still playing the courtly married man, taking your hand on his arm as you pass slaves and soldiers alike who lower their heads in deference. It’s going to take some getting used to. He apparently has a meeting to attend, though, as he escorts you back to your quarters.

“I’ll see you this evening,” he says, with no need for innuendo.

And so it continues for a few days. At night he takes you into his own bedchambers, tastes you until you nearly weep from the overstimulation, fucks you until you’re sore and shaking, sleeps with you, and wakes you up early the next morning to do it all again before he leaves to train. You save your energy during the day by staying more sedentary than you’re used to, remaining in the library or your quarters and listening to recorded lessons of basic Harkonnen words and phrases. Your pronunciation when you try to mimic the guttural tones is laughable, but you put in an effort. You’ll save the relaxation chambers for when you start training.

The fourth night, before he buries his face between your legs, he has you do the same to him; has you kneel as he sits on the edge of the bed and pushes his cock into the confines of your mouth.

“ You’ll learn to take everything, ” he tells you, one hand buried in your hair as he pushes you down farther than you’ve managed before, until tears spill out of the corners of your eyes and the noises your mouth makes around him sound utterly obscene. He lets you brace your hands on his legs and it’s between then and when he pulls you off of him to bring you up into bed that you notice something. The scars on his inner thigh have an uneven mirror; there are scars on his other thigh, as well, along an invisible inseam, but they don’t match. Those other scars look shorter and like they run deeper. It’s yet another question you’re sure you won’t get to ask anytime soon. Before he devours you, though, he cups your chin in his hand and looks over your tear-stained cheeks and lips puffy from sucking his cock with unrestrained lust.

“What is it about me like this, husband?” you ask, after it’s done and he’s come inside of you. You’re both naked, sprawled, and spent in his bed. The blood’s been lighter and lighter and soon you imagine these visits will go back to just the evenings. “Do you only like tasting women when we’re like this?”

He looks over at you and draws one arm behind his head. “Not only then,” he says. “But I like enjoying something other men are too weak to even attempt.”

You wait for him to continue his explanation, but he doesn’t. You’ve been continuously worn out and sore since your wedding night, but there’s something pleasant in your ache. Perhaps it’s just your body getting used to being thoroughly debauched on a regular basis for the first time in your life, but there’s also a part of you that’s starting to enjoy it.

“It’s time,” he adds. “To start training you. It can’t last long so it will have to be comprehensive.”

“I already have training,” you tell him.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he says. “Tomorrow morning.”

You consider this. “Fine. Do I sleep here tonight or in my room?”

He gives it a moment’s thought. “Yours.”

You’ve been sleeping with him the past four nights; you suppose it had to end eventually. You’re surprised at how easy it was to fall asleep next to him even with the early mornings.

“Now?” you ask, trying to keep the conversation as business-like as possible. It’s just easier that way; to shut off any impression that you want intimacy from him that he simply can’t provide. You’re pretty sure it’s impossible for him.

He looks over at you, considering. “In a few minutes,” he decides. “I’m not sure if I want to go again tonight or not.”

As it turns out, he doesn’t, but that doesn’t stop him from glancing over at you a few times, his eyes-half-lidded as his gaze goes up and down the length of your body. When you meet his gaze he looks back at you as if to say, What? Am I not allowed to look at my own wife?

He finally tells you what hour he wants you up. “Get a good night’s rest,” he adds. “You’ll need it.”

He sits up to watch you as you rise from bed, padding naked over to his dresser. He stares unapologetically at your form as you get dressed and leave for your quarters. Construction for the door connecting your bathroom to his is almost complete, and soon you won’t need to leave your quarters to meet him in his.

********

Idrisa wakes you up early.

“My apologies, my Lady, but the Na-Baron wants you to meet him in the Training Halls before breakfast,” she says, holding a pair of flat boots and a couple of other garments in her arms. “He has this for you to wear,” she adds, setting the boots on the floor and everything else on the dresser. “Your coffee is on the desk. He’s given you half an hour to get ready and wants you to bring your dagger.”

You blink, trying to take in what she’s saying before rubbing the heel of your palm against your eyelid. Right. The training.

“Would you like any assistance, or would you like me to wait by the door?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” you say, wondering for a moment if Feyd-Rautha was preparing you to get up this early for the past few days knowing that you’d be training with him.

Probably not. I think he just wanted to fuck in the mornings too .

You sip your coffee before plaiting your hair and taking a look at the clothes your new husband wants you to wear.

It's a practical training outfit; you're pretty sure that Geidi Prime doesn't make training clothes for women, and that he had this commissioned for you given that it fits better, especially in the hips, than you expected. Women on Geidi Prime don’t serve in combat, much like your own planet and if there’s any formal training for women you haven’t heard about it yet.

You manage to make it to the Training Halls in time but still not feeling fully awake.

Feyd-Rautha senses you from the moment you enter, even at the farthest end of the room. It occurs to you that you haven’t seen him in something as innocuous as training gear yet; simple trousers and boots, a fitted but breathable black shirt that stretches across his chest and shoulders, a holster strapped to his thigh. If it weren’t for his bearing he could almost blend into his surroundings.

“Good morning, Na-Baron,” you tell him with a polite incline of your head, figuring that his most formal title would be best to address him in front of the very men he’s meant to lead. You imagine that you make an unusual match for him as it is given how unambiguously foreign you are.

“Good, you’re here,” he says. His tone is casual, light; in front of his men, you may as well be an acquaintance. “We have a lot to cover, but today my main agenda today is to see your skill level as it is now. When we first met you said you were out of practice. How long has it been since you’ve sparred?”

You try to think. “It’s been about eight months since I’ve done anything,” you admit.

“And when did you start?” he asks.

“Age fifteen,” you tell him.

“And how often would you train?” he asks.

“About an hour, two or three times a week,” you tell him.

He looks both unsurprised and unimpressed with this new information. Instead he takes a small, black device from the waistband of his pants and holds it up. “Have you used one of these before?” You immediately recognize it as a shield activator.

“I have, Na-Baron,” you tell him. “During fighting lessons.”

“Good. You’ll be using one for all of our sessions, just in case.” He hands it over to you to clip onto your own waistband before he signals to another man who’s slight of build and several inches shorter than him. The man strides over to you and lowers his head in deference.

“Na-Baroness,” he says.

“This is Korvo,” Feyd-Rautha says. “He’ll make a suitable opponent,” he says, looking you both over as if to confirm that the two of you are in a similar enough weight class. “Which are you more familiar with? Knife or dagger?”

“I would say the dagger,” you tell him.

“Then I’ll start you off with the knife,” he says. “Start with mid-range fighting and work from there.”

“Alright,” you say, looking over at Korvo, who finally raises his head to look you in the eye. They’re dark brown; there’s a scar along where one of his eyebrows would be. His expression is entirely neutral; if he has a single opinion about you, you’d have no idea. It’s been a week since the wedding and you still don’t know how any of Harkonnen's subjects feel about you.

Feyd-Rautha pulls a knife from one of many lining the walls and hands it over.

“Thank you,” you say softly, taking the handle. He releases it immediately, watching you adjust it in your hand.

“How’s the grip?” he prompts.

“Fine, thank you,” you tell him, glancing over at him before he steps back to a safe distance, and turning your attention back to your opponent as you turn on your shields and settle into position. Korvo does the same, staying still until you both hear Feyd-Rautha’s voice give the simple command, “ Go. ”

You circle each other, and you try to remember your footwork, trying not to cross one leg in front of the other, keeping your stance guarded.

Korvo waits, letting you get nervous as you keep expecting him to make the first move. He makes no offense until you finally think, Oh, get on with it, and lunge first.

For a minute Korvo seems to let you get reacquainted with the practice; one of you strikes, the other blocks, still circling each other. You remember to play to your strengths, which you’ve been told is your form and your flexibility.

So far so good, you think as you block a blow to your shoulder. Then he sweeps his leg, nearly tripping you, and you realize that you haven’t been paying enough attention to his footwork, too preoccupied with his upper body. You startle and recover, regaining your balance just in time for him to swipe, and he’s closer than you realized. When did he get this close?

Too fast! you think, gasping as you try to lean back, as Korvo’s knife swipes just under your breasts, your ribcage protected only by your shield that reverberates with the resistance so hard that your teeth chatter.

“One,” Feyd-Rautha says. He sounds like he’s moving to get a better view as you and Korvo progress. You try to tune him out, inhaling sharply, before finding an opening at your opponent’s left side and lunging.

You’re proud of yourself for about two seconds in which your knife meets Korvo’s shield, even as the humming of it reverberates in your bones. Korvo counters with a knock of his forearm against yours with a force that knocks you off balance again before you realize that he’d been holding back. There’s a mechanical coldness in his eyes as he moves. You can only counter and have no time to lunge or attack, just trying to keep up with the barrage of swipes as he gains on you, forcing you back, before he lunges.

You stumble and trip, falling flat on your ass and in the blink of an eye Korvo’s on top of you, his blade at your heart, and you scream.

Were it not for your shield you’d be dead , you think as you stare, panting and wide-eyed up at the man who’s far more lethal than his appearance would suggest.

He immediately withdraws the knife. “Na-Baroness,” he says, tone apologetic, as he offers you a hand to guide you up. You’re just glad you fell on the flesh of your backside and not your tailbone. You hadn’t realized it was happening, too caught up in your work with Korvo, but people are watching you.

Of course people are watching; you’re new, you’re unfamiliar, and you’re the future Baroness. You sense their gazes on you but you ignore the embarrassed flush and turn to look over at Feyd-Rautha. It’s been a while since you’ve practiced this, and longer still since you felt so out of your depth.

He considers you, head tilted, arms crossed, as he looks between you and Korvo. Finally he speaks, stepping in closer to you both. “Alright, you have some decent baseline form and technique but you still need to reacquaint yourself, especially with speed and footwork. Korvo will continue to train you.

“Speaking of which,” he turns and immediately punches the man hard in the stomach and as the man drops, raises a knee to spike him in the jaw. You recoil at the sickening crunch.

“For scaring my wife,” he explains to the man now crumpled on the floor.

“ Was that necessary? ” you demand, voice cracking.

“He’ll be fine,” Feyd says. “We have Healers for anything broken, and I can help you with the rest of our session today. I’ll test out your skills with that cute little letter-opener you keep hidden in your boot.” He grabs another shield activator from a nearby table and clips it on.

Out of the corner of your eye you notice Korvo slowly getting up and spitting a small wad of blood onto the floor before shuffling to his feet. An attendant quickly comes to his aid and escorts him from the Halls. You look down, not wanting to see whatever Feyd-Rautha may have done to his mouth or jaw.

“Now I’m going to want to get an idea of where you stand with the dagger,” Feyd-Rautha says, getting your attention again, holding out his hand for you to hand over the knife, which, once he has back, he hands over to another attendant to set amongst the others.

“Let’s see it,” he says when he turns, nodding at your boot.

You haven’t pulled it out of its holster since your last lesson eight months ago. You’ve been carrying it around with you more as a good-luck charm rather than a weapon since then. You pull up your pant-leg to unclip it and draw it out. It’s a very pretty blade, if you do say so yourself. The handle was made with a woman’s sensibilities in mind. Feyd-Rautha waits for you to unclip it from its holster and tilts his head when he sees it.

“Ornamental,” he says.

“Still functional,” you tell him as you hand it over and watch him twirl it in his hand and examine the blade. It was designed specifically for you, so it’s almost baffling how deftly his larger fingers twirl it with such ease. He looks at it as if it shares deeply guarded secrets about you before looking back at you.

"The dagger's close range," he says, as if you didn't already know. “What were you taught about evasion and disarming techniques?”

“In the event of an ambush, don't rely on brute strength, don't hesitate, and don't bother trying to fight honorably. It’s not a duel; they're not looking for a fair fight, either.”

“Good. Let’s start with disarming techniques,” he says. “In case you’re caught unarmed or unable to reach your weapon.”

The first exercise is easier; it’s one of the first things you’ve ever learned, the way to grab his wrist and pinch the flesh of his palm. This is familiar, and you ease back into the confidence you’d had earlier. After a few goes of it, Feyd-Rautha watching your form, decides to move on–you have no doubt that he’ll come back to this, go faster, go meaner. This all seems to be a diagnostic, something he can use to gauge your potential.

“Alright, you get the concept,” he says. “Let’s move on to disarming an opponent who’s behind you.”

Fine . You assume nothing will phase you quite as much as sparring with Korvo earlier as you get back into a neutral stance, waiting for the tell-tale signs of moving feet, but instead you feel the long, chiseled lines of your husband’s chest and stomach against your back, his free arm wrapped around your ribcage, and your own dagger at your neck. Or rather, you feel the hum of both of your shields vibrate at the contact.

Oh. This kind of close range . You inhale sharply. You don’t need to see Feyd-Rautha’s face to see the unrestrained delight in his eyes.

“Nervous?” he asks.

Exposed . Your pulse quickens. He hasn’t done anything, he’s fully dressed. His hand is on your ribcage, not your breasts or between your legs, but you feel like the two of you shouldn’t be doing this with other people around. They have their own training to get through, of course, but they’re noticing. Even as they keep their heads down and try not to stare, they’re paying attention. They’re probably wondering how you take the Na-Baron's cock inside of you each night.

The vibration of his shield merging with yours doesn’t help.

You take a breath and twist in his arms before he tightens his hold.

“Sloppy work,” he says.

You would argue in your defense that your previous instructors for this weren’t men who’ve been inside of you or licked your pussy until you screamed from the nerve-shattering pleasure of it. It’s more distracting this way.

He starts the position again, his front against your back as he presses the dagger just up against your shield, the hum of it so close to your throat it gives off an almost-purring sound.

Do you like being pressed up against me? you want to ask.

He answers before you get the chance. “I changed my mind. I’ll instruct your close range fighting personally.”

You could laugh, but instead you simply reach behind you, grabbing his crotch and twisting hard–with the shield it won’t hurt him in the slightest, but you were told it was one of the most effective ways to disarm a male opponent.

He snorts and presses the tip of your dagger further against your neck. “Should’ve known you’d go there, pet,” he murmurs in your ear. “It’s not always a reliable technique.”

He’s aroused. You can feel the outline of his cock straining against his trousers as it presses against you.

“Try again,” he says.

*********

Two hours later you’re worn out and beset with what you’re sure will become bruises. So, all in all a very typical two hours with your groom.

You part ways so you can each shower, change, and reconvene for breakfast.

“Unless you’re actually sick or he’s elsewhere, my uncle wants you to attend breakfast and dinner with him as a sign of respect,” Feyd-Rautha tells you. “But you’re free to do as you wish and go where you like during the day.”

That freedom would sound more appealing if you enjoyed going outside, but you still get short of breath easily every time you go out under that black sun, so that means more research, more time listening to language recordings, and more time re-learning everything you forgot plus everything you hadn’t realized you didn’t learn about self-defense.

But today you end up re-reading from books you brought from your old home and writing letters to each of your family members. You write to them about learning basic battle language, about how your husband has recently taken the liberty of teaching you what he knows about self-defense to build on what you’ve already learned. You ask them about the weather, about your friends, about how their lives have changed since you last saw them. It feels far longer than a week. You ask about the stars, about the natural light displays. Your planet has a beautiful night sky. You have to keep reminding yourself that you’ll see it again one day, even if it’s not as soon as you’d like.

Feyd-Rautha’s as polite and restrained towards you at dinner as he always is in his uncle’s presence. During your meals together he seems detached, almost indifferent to you when you’re pretty sure he’s not. He doesn’t show an ounce of warmth but always pulls your chair out for you and waits until you’re seated to sit down himself.

You find that you prefer it; you don’t want the Baron to get so much of a glimpse of the carnality of your marriage and the way his nephew takes you apart with enthusiasm that’s almost frightening.

The only indication that Feyd gives of his interest in you is when you’re both leaving the Dining Hall and he stops to mutter in your ear, “Tonight I’ll come to your chambers instead.”

You think about how he’d gotten hard during practice. When you’re getting ready for the night’s rendezvous you wonder if he took care of it himself in the bathroom later that morning or if he decided to hold off until he could unleash his pent-up lust on you.

You get your answer when you’re in only your robe.

“Your husband, the Na-Baron,” Idrisa says, eyes downcast, as she opens the door for him. He’s barefoot, in just a pair of trousers he quickly undoes, and it’s clear both that he’s already hard and that he’s wearing nothing underneath. Your eyes widen.

Idrisa’s still in the room! you want to snap at him. She doesn’t want to see you like this!

Instead you watch as he steps out of his trousers and hands them off to Idrisa without a word or a look back at her. She inclines her head, accepts the garment, and turns to neatly fold it and place it on top of the dresser.

“Thank you, Idrisa, you are relieved,” you tell her, and she inclines her head and leaves after a soft, ‘ Thank you, Na-Baroness .’ You drop your robe, standing beside the bed as he comes closer. You look at each other for a moment. He raises his browline at your wide eyes.

“Is this another test?” you ask finally.

“Just something new,” he says. He glances towards the bed and back at you. Go on, get in , he seems to say.

You keep your eyes on him as you slide into bed, sitting up with your hands braced behind you as you wait for him to follow, unsure what position he’ll want you in.

As it turns out, you’re exactly where he wants you. You feel the dip of the mattress as he gets in, planting one knee in between your legs, then the other, before descending upon you. He leans in and you lean back, letting your head hit the pillows as he braces himself above you and latches his mouth to your neck, nipping and sucking what you’re sure will be little pink and red marks that his men will notice tomorrow when you train.

“I’ve been waiting to do this for hours,” he says. “I was nearly about to fuck you in the Training Halls during our session.”

“There were other people there,” you tell him.

“I could’ve told them to leave,” he says, in a tone that suggests he wouldn’t have cared either way. “Next time I might. And then I’ll pull down your pants and claim you on the floor.”

He doesn’t give you the chance to give you a rebuttal before he kisses you fiercely and you can’t help but respond in kind, as spent as you feel.

You cry out, back arching at the first full thrust of him inside of you, and he smiles.

Oh yeah , he seems to think. I’d make sure everyone can hear the noises I draw out of you . He braces one arm beside your head, holds your hip with his free hand as he normally does at first when he’s taking you in this position. He watches your face, your breasts and the movement of them as he rocks into you, his mouth open as he slides his hand from his hip to the small of your back. And then he sits up on his haunches, taking you with him. You gasp, a high-pitched moan spilling out of you at the change of angles. You scramble to get your knees under you in time as he continues thrusting upwards, one arm around your back and his other hand still clutching your hip.

“Ah!” you manage, sliding down onto him. It’s the most leverage you’ve gotten with him, making you gasp and whine as you hold onto him; it’s the most he’s really let you move and it comes instinctively. He lets you take over the rhythm that he started as you roll your hips on top of him and clutch at his back.

In a sense it feels almost like you’re the one fucking him, him rocking up to meet your movements and his hands on your hips encouraging you. The heat grows faster this way, with the angle and the friction and the way he eases up and follows your pace, his harsh breath against your ear as you keep thinking about how you want to kiss him but your gasps and moans against the open air are too much for you to collect yourself enough for that. The desperate noises that he pulls out of you, that you pull out of yourself, spill from you without thought, louder than his own grunts and growls. You just keep moving, faster and harder, your nipples stiff and your entire body flushed as your body chases after your release.

I’m close. I’m so close , you want to tell him if only you could speak. Instead you find a spot at the juncture of his neck and shoulder and lean down to bite down as you keep grinding down on him. That’s the moment that does it for him, and you gasp, rocking down onto him one last time as he comes within you. Your hips jerk and stutter as you feel him painting your insides and remove your mouth from his neck with a sloppy lick and try to find your bearings. You’re still on top of him, he’s still inside of you, you’re both panting and you wonder if he feels as close to delirious as you do. You’re still hot, still pulsing, and give a closed-mouth whine as you squirm on top of him. C’mon, please , you want to tell him. I was almost there .

He presses his forehead against yours, panting against your mouth, before with a snarl he grabs your hips to hold you still and brings his thumb down to where you’re joined. It takes only a few passes, especially when he brings his mouth just under your ear.

You come around him, shutting your eyes around the intensity and digging your nails into his shoulders; you’re starting to grow them longer for this very purpose.

He holds onto you, his forehead resting against your shoulder. He stays inside of you as he wraps one arm around your back, uses his free hand to clutch your hip as you readjust for the second time and he lowers you back down on the bed.

You assume that once you hit the mattress again that he’ll pull out and pull away but he doesn’t; he pulls his hand out from under you but otherwise stays where he is, buried inside of you and draping over you to rest his head against your sweat-damp collarbone. It’s like he’s sinking into you, laying on you, still inside of you even as he’s going soft. It feels oddly nice. Like he’s finding a home within you. As if the two of you are actually coupled by choice rather than mandate. Even the weight of him on top of you feels somehow reassuring.

You absently stroke his back and wonder what he’d look like with hair. What color would it be? What texture? He has long eyelashes, but there’s little else to go off of.

“Is my hair going to fall out?” you wonder aloud after a moment. It’s a reasonable question to have; none of your body hair has grown in again, not even a hint of stubble.

Feyd-Rautha pauses and raises himself up on one forearm to look at you properly, perhaps trying to figure out if there’s an implied insult in your question.

“I just wonder how all of that works here,” you tell him.

“You can’t lose something that never grows in the first place,” he says. “People born on Geidi Prime never grow any as long as they’re living here.”

You frown as you run your fingertips along the back of his head. “But you weren’t born on Geidi Prime, either. I looked it up; you were born on Lankiveil.”

“When I came here I was ordered to have everything shaved off,” he says. “None of it ever grew back.”

You consider this, enjoying the tenderness he’s letting you show him for now. “Is that why you have eyelashes?” you ask, brushing your thumb along his cheekbone. There’s the faint memory of freckles on his cheeks; it makes you wonder what his pigment would be on a planet with a proper sun.

“Yes. He didn’t think removing them was necessary,” he says, not needing to specify who ‘he’ is, and his tone is clear: I don’t want to talk about my uncle while I’m still inside of you .

Fair enough. He sinks back down, content to forget the entire conversation, and you drop it, but because this is the first time since you’ve met that you truly feel comfortable with him, you keep talking.

“What was it like on Lankiveil?” you ask him.

He gives an irritated huff. “Why,” he says.

“Just curious,” you say. “The climate sounds a lot like my planet. I grew up surrounded by water, too.”

He sighs, his chest expanding. “Then there’s not much to tell you, now is there,” he says again, voice flat. After a moment, “Even if you were blind and deaf you could smell that you were on an ocean planet just from the salty air. It was cold, damp, dark.”

“ Hmmm .” There are so many questions you want to ask. Did you like it, though? What did you like about it? Have you ever missed it? Were you happy back then? Did you love the family you’ve lost? Have you ever tried going back? You won’t ask them, not anytime soon and potentially not ever. “It’s not a smell you ever think you’ll miss,” you say instead, both hands absently stroking his back and shoulders in no particular pattern.

“Didn’t say I missed it,” Feyd says immediately.

“I do, though.” You already miss the sounds of the ocean crashing against the rocks and stormy sunsets over the rolling tide. Geidi Prime has nothing. It’s a wasteland devoid of life, devoid of seasons. You try not to think about that, and instead the new information Feyd-Rautha’s given you.

Your children will be hairless . You’d implicitly assumed, but it paints a more vivid picture of what to expect.

“You miss home already?” he asks.

Of course I do. Geidi Prime's atmosphere is overwhelming and you're far away from your family. Idrisa’s the only friend you've made and she's obligated to spend time with you. Of course I'd rather be home than here.

But you're not about to tell him that right now, not while you’re the closest thing to content that you’ve felt since you landed. “It’s just what I’m familiar with,” you tell him. “I’ve never lived anywhere else.”

He finally slides out of you as he raises his head again, and you can’t place his expression, but you’re struck with a thought as you bring one hand to his face.

I really want to kiss you right now.

You almost do, and maybe he can see it in your face. You’re not sure how you’re looking at him but he blinks, looking at first your eyes and then your lips, and before you can lean up he gets up, slides out of bed, and pads over to your bathroom. You turn to your side to watch him go, to see his shoulders taper down to a narrow waist, the slope of his ass, and those long legs and how even when soft his cock hangs between them. Tomorrow construction will be complete and your quarters will be connected to his.

Given his abrupt departure to the bathroom, when he returns you expect him to pull on his trousers and leave, but instead he slides back into bed alongside you without a word.

He settles for a moment, turning to face you. He seems thoughtful for a moment.

“Even with the protections you have, it would reflect poorly on me and the Fortress if we had you training while you’re showing, if you’re not pregnant already,” he says.

“I’m no Bene Gesserit,” you tell him. “I can’t tell if I’m pregnant yet, can’t control or predict the sex of the baby–”

“I wouldn’t want a Bene Gesserit wife,” he says. “I can barely tolerate them as is. That’s not the point. We train you as well as we can for the limited time you have.

“But while we're talking about the Bene Gesserit, they will be visiting in three weeks for my birthday. They'll be able to sniff out right away if you're pregnant or not.”

“Given the rate that we’ve been going, that won’t be an issue,” you tell him.

He looks down at your stomach, as if picturing how soon it’s going to swell with his progeny. “Training to be a warrior starts early,” he says. “I was seven when I began and that was later than normal, so I had to work harder than the others to make up for lost time.

“This is not an easy planet to grow up on, so the training is necessary. Especially with Arrakis. We’ve been in conflict for decades and it’s only gotten more severe.”

“Spice production isn’t your only means of industry,” you tell him. What Geidi Prime lacks in vegetation it makes up for in fuel and minerals that get heavily mined.

“Maybe not, but it’s our most lucrative, and until we find a different planet with as much spice as Arrakis, we won’t end our occupation there. In any case, we need to remind the Fremen of our might. I want to build my troops to be the most powerful in the universe. That’s what our children are meant to inherit. That’s what I want to lead and for our son to take over after I’m gone.”

After I’m gone .

Within ten minutes he takes you again, against your headboard as he holds you up, hands under your ass and your legs wrapped around his hips. He mounts you like you’re an animal he killed for sport and hung up on his wall as he murmurs something in Harkonnen battle language against your neck and all you can make out are my woman and something about his semen. He controls the pace this time, fucking you up the length of the headboard as you hold onto him, moaning and panting.

Afterwards you lay side by side, and you look over at him as he starts to doze off, one arm across his ribcage, the other behind his head, one leg bent at the side. His lashes flutter closed. He looks peaceful. He'd be blond, you realize. His lashes are fair so his hair would be some shade of blond. Or rather, he was blond, once.

Perhaps he’d be too beautiful with hair and a normal mouth, you think. Maybe the strange appearance is another layer of armor. The teeth certainly are; he must dye them with some kind of charcoal.

“What,” he says again, his tone annoyed even as he doesn’t open his eyes.

“Nothing,” you say simply, and turn away. When you’ve slept together it’s been with his chest against your back. Neither of you have discussed it, but you both seem to prefer it.

As you drift off you picture a version of him with more pigmentation; sun-kissed skin sprinkled with more freckles; wavy blond hair and tawny eyebrows, a white-toothed smile. A version of him almost too pretty to look at, in a life he was never going to have.

**********

You wake up as the early morning trickles in a sickly gray from the window.

Feyd’s turned away from you at some point during the night and it registers as odd, not having the already-familiar sensation of the warmth of his body against your back and his cock nestled against you. You blink, turning around, and seeing that his back is turned towards you. For some reason his scars look worse in the morning light. Your pink little scratches and bite-marks will fade soon and be replaced by others; the lash-marks will probably never go away.

You reach out, fingertips skimming his back. The unmarred skin is so soft, stretched over the sinewy muscle, that the raised skin of his scars feels like a road map of what he’s quick to endure. You wonder about the scars along his inner thighs, if he’d let you touch them. You think about how you’d like to, how you’d like to explore more of his body as you trail your fingertips along the deepest and ugliest of his lesions.

No sooner do you think that then you can sense Feyd waking and turning to face you in an instant. It takes you by shock, barely able to comprehend what’s happening, as he grabs your wrist in a vice.

His pale eyes look silver; his nostrils flare, his jaw clenched. For a moment it’s like he doesn’t see you.

You want to pull back but he holds onto your wrist–for a moment you worry that he’ll squeeze tighter and shatter the delicate bones. The two of you stare, caught in silence. Then he blinks and seems to take in the fear and confusion in your eyes, and whatever he saw wasn’t you, not with the recognition sinking in. He releases your wrist, looks away, and rolls in the opposite direction of you.

“What are you–?” you start, stunned. You feel utter whiplash from the difference a few seconds could make, unsure exactly what you did.

He gets up without a word. He doesn’t look back at you as he pulls on his trousers.

“What did I do?” you ask him.

He pauses, starts to look back, and turns his head back to the door and leaves. You stare after the door once he’s shut it behind him, wondering what happened.

You don’t go back to sleep. You lay in bed for the hours it takes for light to more prominently trickle in.

Not that he said it out loud, but you think you just got confirmation for how he got those scars.

Tags: @richardslady121 @blazeflays @wo-ming-bai

#feyd x reader #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha smut #feyd smut #dune part 2 #dune 2 #feyd rautha x you

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