#me still simmering with rage???

[redrobin-detective]

Iruma-kun, the Six Fingers and Humanity

I have been mulling over this idea for days as I devoured the Iruma-kun anime then manga and am still struggling to articulate it. The best I can boil down to is the whole goal of the Six Fingers and the return to origins is, unbeknownst to them, a desire to become more human.

I can understand, in a way, their frustration. Demons used to be merciless killers, where the strong surpassed the weak and magic, aggression and power won the day. Now we see they have idol concerts and theme parks and silly games to help demons safely purge their “wickedness” which is, in reality just another part of their nature. The majority of modern day demons deny a large part of themselves. The whole idea of a wicked cycle is endlessly fascinating to me, like this species has compartmentalized themselves so much that their pent up darker impulses periodically spring out and require them to be handled gently or hidden away. I can see how this practice is insulting and incredibly restrictive of what a demon is.

Now, right from the start, Iruma has stood out in the demon world for a few reasons. First and most obviously, he lacks any practical or cultural knowledge of demonic society. We see Iruma ignorantly stride past social norms and boundaries he didn’t even know existed. If it weren’t for his upbeat, people pleasing attitude he’d be written off as a delinquent but instead he helps foster an environment of change in a bunch of slackers and misguided students. And change is a radical concept in a society that hasn’t replaced the demon king in centuries since the old one disappeared. The effect of Iruma’s very presence, his enthusiasm and attitude and cooperative abilities can be seen so strongly on the Misfit class that its no wonder he’s become such a stand out student.

So I had heard of Irumean when I first started the series and had high expectations of him being a full on bastard. And he simply wasn’t. He was arrogant, reckless, rude at the worst but even those around him commented that his innate, unnatural kindness was still there. I argue because Irumean was never a true wicked cycle. It was Ali-san’s attempt to induce a demonic ritual onto him. But humans aren’t like demons, Iruma is a good, kind, patient boy due to his trauma and strength of character. At any point he could lash out in the most horrific fashion and leave everyone stunned because he is not bound such such strict rules of personality and conduct. His humanity is as much a strength as it is a weakness.

So according to recent chapters, Iruma has traces of Delkira’s energy. My first thought was that it was emanating from Ali-san, which is a distinct possibility but why was the ring attracted to Iruma in the first place? My next theory is that Delkira had some connection to humans as well. Either he’s a hafling or a demonized human or spent a significant amount of time in the human world. Either way, this human perspective is what made him so powerful, such an irreplaceable leader that his throne has remained empty for so long. One could even argue that the energy that the Six Fingers identify as ‘Delkira’ is actually just ‘human’ since the King’s energy is familiar while a human’s is not.

My whole round about point I’m doing a very poor job of explaining essentially boils down to, demons want to return to their origins to have more control over their baser instincts. Instincts and free will that humans, such as Iruma, possess naturally. But while Iruma has the capability for great evil, unrestrained by a set cycle, he also has such an overflowing well of love in him. Delkira, what little we’ve seen of him comes across as brash, fickle and cruel. You may note those are human traits as well. But Iruma also leads with kindness, dedication and teamwork. He will make a marvelous King because the humanity he brings to the table will help all of demonkind.

I do believe as the manga progresses we will see Iruma’s humanity become a  game changer in the battle against the Six Fingers. How he sees the world (both human and demon), how he interacts and inspires others, how he fights. Reaching a point where not only does Iruma stand up for himself but he is forced to cause harm (and by consequence addressing his people pleasing trauma) and behave in a manner not seen by demons outside of their wicked cycle. When he does, years down the road, become King, I believe he will address the concerns of factions like the Six Fingers. Demons are not meant to be fully contained but cannot be allowed to run rampant. With his feet in both worlds, I believe he will be able to balance both opposing views and ‘heal’ the underworld as the prophecy states. Not just from the instability of the Six Fingers but from this bizarre evolutionary cycle demons have fallen into over the centuries.

#mairimashita! iruma kun #welcome to demon school iruma kun #iruma kun spoilers #not sure how to tag this?? #the wicked cycle is fascinating to me #so youre saying i can compile all my bitchy evil energy into a few day cycle?? #its absolutely insane if you think about it #and Yes wtds is a lovely lighthearted series that I adore but sometimes I think 'gosh this is tame for hell' #and i argue that its not supposed to be like this! #how they got stuck in this cycle is up for debate if it pre or post dates Delkira #the point remains that Iruma can and absolutely should go feral at some point #bc he is a human and his personality and actions are managed only by himself #I want all his people pleasing meek adorableness to backfire on him and we see a hint of the rage beneath #I want him to maim even kill in a rage bc the indignities done to him have been simmering for years and now someone is threatening his new h #*home #The six fingers want him bc of delkira yeah but also his ability to transcend the limits of being a modern demon #something something humans are the true demons the latter having managed themselves so tightly they no longer resemble demons of old #that Iruma even as good and pure as he is is still more alike Delkira than any modern demon #Ive kind of lost the bubble on this but things Ive been thinking about #Im all caught up and I feel Extreme Stress over the Diverticulum #i cant wait!

[carmenlire]

back to thinking about my semantic error boys and i really should start writing for them again. . .

#i watched SE shorts during my lunch hour to qualm the simmering rage my workplace and general temperament seems to bring out in me #and like..... that show is realyl so good #the actors were phenomenal and the subject matter #seems like it was like this! is for you specifically brianna! #anywho #i still have so many ideas i wanna write #i'm thinking maybe i'll finally watch the movie soon and that'll really get the juices flowing again #wonder where my SE anon is.... i hope they're enjoying life #se anon #semantic error

[k0kichiimagines]

according to my mum as a baby when i would be crying and throwing a tantrum i would pause, look in the mirror / oven door / reflective surface in general and admire and observe my reflection and then turn back and continue crying and if that did not give my mother a clear insight into what my personality would be idk what did

#absolutely iconic behaviour of infant me i think #it's funny i used to (still do) have really bad temper issues #i just learnt to quietly simmer in rage #i would also convince myself i was in time out corners because i wanted to be #give myself activites too like counting all the lines on my jeans or whatever #stay a little longer because i wanted to be there

[multiverse-sparkles]

Your kiss is burning to my skin — S. Rogers and B. Barnes.

summary: steve and bucky break up with you to focus on their relationship. at first, you took the breakup hard. then you took it worse.

pairings: steve x reader x bucky, stucky x reader.

warnings: angst, language, mentions of violence, poly.

chapter one

“it has nothing to do with you, doll.” bucky reiterates, tone mellowing into a small hesitant whisper as he sees you flinch at the endearment. “i mean you were wonderful and so lovely; always understanding us, being the pillar for support and providing us, always with positive reinforcements.” steve squeezes his hand as his form of support, as if willing bucky to take strenght from him to continue his words as he stutters.

the tender moment was not missed by your gaze that were intent on the supersoldiers who sat at the sofa infront of you. the parallels already evident; steve and bucky, leaning to eachother for comfort, sitting in one sofa. the only distance in the room were with you and them; sat in the lone one seater, listening with bated breath to their reasons on why they were breaking your heart.

you could guess several other scenarios happening when you returned from the three week mission requiring radio silence; a breakup was not one of them.

you were happy. the last time you saw either of them, you three went on a romantic date followed by a passionate night spent in eachother's loving arms. the next day was a tearful exchange of goodbye's and unwillingness to part; bucky had almost begged to be included, knowing what the mission entailed. steve inteded to be more diplomatic and barter with tony who refused to budge on his stance.

so with a heavy heart, you departed to cold and frigid terrorist base along with natasha and sam, throwing yourself into your duties in order to come home soonest. even with the support and extensive planning aswell as research, it still took a considerable amount of time.

but not enough for a drastic change of heart— or so you thought.

the steely and determined gaze to steve, the way bucky could look at you in the eyes despite shifting in his seat; they were fucking serious. and intent on expressing their disatisfaction with your current arrangement. one that was implicitly expressed as you trek to your floor, and sat you down after an almost hostile welcome.

“this hurts us more than you.” bucky exhales, looking at steve.

“i doubt it.” the first words you spoke amid all these crazy tirade sounded weak, from disuse and the emotions welling up in your throat. “but please, by all means, don't let me interrupt. why now?”

“we have been talking and spending time with eachother.. unconsciously, we thought about... how we missed it when it was just us.”

you flinch. again. in the field you were almost fearless, and not even a flying knife can make you swerve— you'd catch the weapon whizing to the air with precise movements. turns out, words indeed cut deeper.

but all the more of the implication that it had been them first; and the way it sounded, you were an unwelcomed participant into the special connection they shared.

“but this is not to say we don't value you.” steve intones. “we do. you have to know that. you're special in your own way, but bucky and i have something deeper than just flesh.”

you bite your tongue to refrain from lashing out. as a coping mechanism, you entertain the anger for his fucking audacity. letting the rage simmer under the blank farce you currently wear.

“we just hope, we can focus on eachother more.” steve elaborates, tensing the slightest at your emotionless response. to be frank, both men were ready for a fight, for you to scream and be hysterical. but you were surprisingly calm and collected. which made both uneasy.

“we just want to fall inlove again, without worrying about, others.” he refers you as others now. “could be permanent, could be a thought in passing.” bucky says. “the only thing we're certain about is a break.” he evasively looks away.

“i guess what bucky and i are trying to say is that, we want more from eachother, and there are certain deeper connections that we can't sustain in a three-way relationship.” steve informs you.

“i respect that.” you run your clammy hands on your tactical gear, they couldn't wait until you were dressed and atleast fed before shoving flowery words on your throat. “but if you're breaking up with me, say it bluntly; tell me honestly, tell it in words i understand- you were a good lay but it's actually eachother we love.” you enunciate the word slowly, “and don't delude me with kind words, when i know you're going to dangle the very statements you spewed over my head, most likely in days when you're fucked up or too lonely for eachother. i will not be tripped into your bed ever again.”

you despised the words as soon as they left your mouth; the statements only providing to fuel your deepest insecurity. and it was unfair to both of them, you knew it was.

steve and bucky looked visibly wretched by your words, yet you ignore it, telling yourself to get used to not caring about either of them.

“doll”

“darling”

“don't fucking call me that.” you hiss, both men still in their seat. “we're done.” gathering whatever was left of your dignity, you trudge to the doors and out of their lives.

the door closed behind you, your own apartment looking stale as opposed to the home you have built with steve and bucky; you barely stayed here anyways, but kept it for storage reasons. it still had stark's touch, feeling more like a hotel penthouse, appearing cold and detatched.

you slide down against the door weakly, losing the false bravado infront of your ex lovers. as if a child, you hug your knees to your chest, sobbing into it unbashedly.

three years all down the drain. and they talked about it as if it were a skin deep connection, downplaying every single moment; in tenderness, in affection, in tears and the joy.

you didn't lie down with them in their bed as an extension, as a woman that can be tossed in passing.

you didn't hold them gently in your arms, and provided the warmth the world has chosen to keep from them just to be a stranger.

you didn't whisper words of comfort in their ears, in the middle of the night when the nightmares became too much to handle, just to be someone shallow and unimportant in their lives.

most importantly, you didn't love them to be hurt like this.

the pain cuts deep in your heart, like a throbbing wound, one you feel physically; one that leaves you gasping for breath, a hand held above your heart, feeling as if you could die. your chest tight, your throat welling up, you struggle to remain above ground, eyes darting around the room to keep in the moment- fuck, you were having a panic attack.

you despised when that happens. hated the sheer fact that you would allow yourself to be vulnerable when there were things that needed to be done; people that need saving, reports to be made, meetings to attend. you led a remotely chaotic life and the only thing that truly anchored you in here, to the now, turned their backs to you.

they no longer want you.

you swallowed heavily, arms instinctively hugging yourself, eyes squinting in an an attempt at concentration; color, you looked at your surroundings, dizzily naming the grey of your couch, the ivory white lamp, the silver and gold of the chandelier. your forehead was beaded with perspiration, breath coming out in shorts despite your attempts at distracting yourself.

“agent y/n, your blood pressure is fluctuating; your heart rate is abnormal which can cause the brain and other ogans to become oxygen deprived. i concluded a physical scan and deduced your emotional distress," FRIDAY “i'm at liberty to ask if i should call captain rogers and sergeant barnes, as they are—”

“no!” you managed to shout between strangled breaths, patting your chest methodolically hoping whatever it was, seemingly dislodged into your airways be cleared.

“agent y/n, in accordance to the tower's protoccol, i am hardwired to inform your immediate contacts of your current state of distress.” her posh voice inserts. and despite yourself, you groan.

“i'm peachy, fri.” you lean your head back to the door, closing your eyes and focusing on your breathing. slowly, you were able to calm down enough, “it's probably the best time to change those emergency contacts, aswell. while you're at it, remove the captain and sergeant's access to this floor; both physically and even in information.”

“ofcourse, agent y/n. please state your official badge number and code.” when you answer her, FRIDAY appears to repeat your command before doing what was asked.

“i also elected the sensible decision of reinstating agent romanov as your primary emergency contact. that being said, ms. romanov is on the way to your floor.” FRIDAY disappears before you can scold her, which made you truly contemplate wether she was conscious and, in all actuality sensitive to human emotions.

perhaps, she does have an inkling of human relationships and intense emotions, but that was no longer your concern; considering you have a black widow shaped problem coming your way. and natasha romanov was nothing, if not immensely stubborn and perpetually perceptive. you were several times screwed over.

however, as she appeared in your doorway, the waterworks resumed ten times over, and you were sobbing pathetically in the red head's arms, lamenting your broken heart.

you couldn't remember for how long you've stayed immobile in your room, but it had been several days; perhaps a week or two that you cried your heart out, barely consuming meals unless for sustenance. that in itself seemed like a chore for your aching muscle, your tired and weary bones protesting with every single movements.

this morning though... this morning, it was sunny and bright. you'd opened the curtains with much effort, peering into the bustling city; the skyline providing you with displaced warmth. a few years ago, you'd only ever dreamt about being in new york; and you've lived it. becoming an avenger was also a dream you've worked hard in achieving, and here you are, fighting alongside the heroic and brave on normal tuesdays.

should you allow yourself to wither away in a dark room, heart terribly battered and bruised when the world was set for conquering? well, perhaps it would be insensitive to use the c word; cringing to yourself upon the remembrance of several otherplanetary creatures wreaking havoc on your home planet, like it were a free for all.

you enjoyed the warmth of the sun on your skin for a few moments, allowing yourself to finally, breathe. you bask in the first time upon weeks that you thought positively for a change; so wreaked from questioning every single thing wrong about you.

for the first time in many days, you took the longest shower in history, setting the temperature just a touch scalding. you cleaned your room, changed the sheets, and donned yourself in a decent jeans and a t-shirt combo. grabbing your purse, and stuffing your phone, wallet and keys along with you, you departed from your room.

on the way to the garage, you texted both wanda and natasha; who have been at your side with the outmost vigor, crying and cursing both the supersoldiers as you wept from your broken heart.

you: mall and galiani's at the grove? :)

wands: yes!! meet you there <3

natty: otw in my sensible shoes.

you smiled softly, thankful for your friends. it may have spread like wildfire among your colleagues in the tower, and the magic six may have taken sides and pointed fingers; but amongst all the drama, you were glad that you had people to count on.

it may take a while for you to feel like yourself again... but you were willing to make it work.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers #stucky x reader #stucky x y/n #stucky x you #stucky

[pseudowho]

Defending Your Honour

A series in which the JJK guys stick-it to the creeps and perverts bothering the reader.

A multi-fic in a series ❤️🫖☕

Part 1 (Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru, and Todo Aoi) link here!

Part 3 (Gojo Satoru, Fushiguro Megumi and Kugisaki Nobara, Inumaki Toge and Fushiguro Toji) link here!

More JJK men and women to come

Trigger Warning: spreading false sexual rumours, stalking, being followed home

Higuruma Hiromi

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You had to leave. You had to get another job. There was no way to come back from this; office-culture spread rumours like the plague, and whether they were founded or not, you still felt the pierce of dozens of judging eyes on you.

Your clothes felt too tight, too revealing, your skin prickled and your nose stung with tears as you gulped, chin held high but so exposed and vulnerable. A filthy rage roiled in your gut at the injustice of it all. The irony did not escape you, as you hot-footed away from the whispers of the legal office.

As you gathered files, clunky and unwieldy in your arms, you felt a hand pretending to be affectionate on the small of your back that made your skin crawl, covered in worms and mud.

"When you're ready," a low voice sing-songed to your right, smirking, gleeful, "just hop along to my office, and we can work something out, yeah?" You jolted with shame as the hand clapped your bum. The eyes flicked back onto you. The whispers spread, infectious. You were a leper, now.

Hiccuping as you ducked your head, you felt hot rancid tears stream down your cheeks, darting down a corridor and reaching for a door any door to take you away from all of these eyes and whispers and accusations and this one was usually empty so you snuck in and slammed the door shut behind you and--

"Oh! Hello," a low, warm voice offered, surprised. You gasped, clapping a hand over your mouth, unable to hide the tears and anguish. The man was tall, slender, his unruly black hair escaping in flicks over his temples, but he looked so genuinely concerned as he rose from his desk, that you sobbed, apologising and sinking to the floor with your face in your knees.

You felt the man crouch beside you, his hands on his thighs, his presence sincere and welcoming. He sat for a moment, apparently awkward and unsure how he could help you.

"It's okay," he reassured, "it's a fucking ugly office, I hate it too, it makes me cry--" You huffed out a wet, genuine laugh and heard him smile, amused puffs of breath from his nose.

"Really, though," he continued, "I'm happy to help...if I can. Not sure if you need a lawyer, or-- or for me to catch a spider for you, I mean I hate them too but I can certainly--" he stopped himself from rattling away. You sniffled, looking up at him with a cute watery smile that made his heart thump.

"You could get me a new job, maybe? Or just a new boss?" You wiped your eyes now, embarrassed by interrupting this lovely man. The lovely man raised his eyebrows, now sitting in front of you, cross-legged.

"And what has your boss done to make you cry?" He inquired, black eyes like beetles, reading you.

You fumbled, uncertain of yourself when explaining the crimes of a man to another man, "I think he didn't, uhm...didn't take being rejected very well and uh--" tears poured, unbidden, as your face crumpled again, "--he's started a rumour than uhm-- that I sleep with him and uhm-- I don't but everyone believes it, and he wants me to come to his office now, after he's just touched me, and I don't know-- I don't know what to do--"

You broke down again, weeping into your knees, as the lovely man before you simmered, his lid rattling with unbridled rage at the unfairness of it all.

He smiled at you, though, gentle and open, "Your boss...the sweaty one? Big guy, thinks he's all that?" You laughed wetly again.

"Oh, you know him?" You grinned together, and you blushed, painfully grateful for being treated with basic respect. Hiromi nodded-- he didn't know your boss. But, he knew men like him and they filled him with bitter disdain, a core loathing and disgust that informed his choices every day.

"Well then...you can share my office today," he insisted as he stood, rubbing his hooked nose between two long fingers, "I've got...something to do." You blinked owlishly up at him. He helped you up, pulling a chair to his desk for you. You perched, confused, but not arguing.

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Some time later, your boss headed back to his office from the vending machines, impatient for you to come to his office, feeling sickly gleeful for having punished you for humiliating him, and his heart leapt hopefully, because maybe he could offer to deny all those rumours, and then you would be so grateful that maybe you'd give him a--

He opened his office door, having just enough time to click it closed behind him before hearing a quiet, angry voice from somewhere above the doorframe.

"Domain Expansion: Deadly Sentencing."

Plunged into a different room, ostensibly not his office, your boss shrieked in terror as two terrifying black figures loomed over him, only one of them human.

"What the fuck are you-- where the fuck am I-- WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!"

Higuruma looked up at the Judgeman with a humourless smile, and back down at your boss, who scurried backwards until his shoulders hit the domain's edge, blind with panic.

"You've been a very naughty boy," Hiromi sang, "shall we see how naughty?"

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You jumped as the office door swung open, and Higuruma (you had worked out, from the lanyard he left on his desk) re-entered with two hot drinks. He smiled a wonky, loping smile.

"Coffee machine's finest," he offered, placing one in your hands. He stood for a moment, bouncing on his heels, chin and nose dipped in consideration.

"I should think... your days of problems with your boss may be over," he said, blasé and cryptic. He did not elaborate, but reached into his pocket, before slipping his card across the desk to you.

"My office is, uhm...hiring a new legal assistant, though. I can put in a good word for you." Hiromi looked into the distance across the room, one hand in his pocket as he continued to rock on his heels. He glanced down at you, eyes glimmering at each other as they met.

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Ino Takuma

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I loved meeting you last week. I thought we made a really special connection. I'd love to meet again. Call me.

You smelled so good today. I love how you're being such a tease. Can't wait for you to call.

I can't stand seeing you talking to other guys! Still haven't seen this so-called 'boyfriend' of yours though. He can't be that into you if he's letting other men near you. Call me.

You didn't answer when I knocked for you, but I know you're home. Bet you were upstairs being naughty, hope you were thinking of me, hahaha, jk. HMU, seriously. I miss you.

I know you're such a little slut behind that 'good girl' act ;) Quit playing hard to get. I finish at 5, I'll meet you from work and we can finally go on that date you owe me.

I've never been this in love before. So disappointed you ditched our first date. I'll catch you another time. I love you so much.

Hope you got the flowers I left on your porch. I love you so much.

I love you.

Good morning baby. I love you.

You're a nasty little bitch and you're gonna die alone and you deserve it. If this is how you treat a nice guy like me, how do you treat all the others? You should be grateful.

I'm sorry. I've just had a really bad day baby. You're my whole world. I love you.

Your hands shook as you scrolled through unanswered text after unanswered text. How had being friendly at a work conference gotten so out of hand? Your head spun as you recounted the memories; were you too flirty? Did you give hints of wanting to be more than just acquaintances? Did you dress too provocatively? Did you touch him?

In a desperate hunt for answers you blamed yourself. I should just be a standoffish bitch in the future, you thought, trying to hold back tears.

Leaning over your desk to pack your bag, you began to feel the walls close in around you, terrifying and claustrophobic, a rat in a maze, and you saw tears splash down onto the leather of your work diary. Would he be waiting outside work again today? Or would he be just outside your office door? Would he be waiting in your home?

You felt a pair of warm, strong arms wrap around your waist from behind, "Hey gorgeous! Guess who got off work ear--"

In a shrieking panic, you lashed out, spinning with your hands raised in attack and defence. Your wonderful, kind boyfriend, Takuma, threw himself backwards, alarmed and apologetic, raising his own hands in placation.

"Whoa, whoa, hey! Oh babe, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you--...what is it? Why are you crying? What's happened?"

Weeks and weeks of trying to ignore your stalker, hoping he would go away and forget about you, tumbled out of you at once. In a wild babble of explanation, he keeps texting me, and I'm not interested, and he won't leave me alone, and he leaves things on the doorstep, and I'm so, so sorry.

You had thrust your phone into Takuma's hands, and he held you close to him with one arm as you sobbed into his shoulder. The other hand scrolled through messages from your unwanted admirer; Takuma's face grew quiet with rage, his lips curled in disgust, a flush of anger smattered hot and pink across his cheeks.

"Babe," he started, "why didn't you..." Swallowing, Takuma stopped himself, "This is not your fault. This guy, there's...there's something wrong with him. Have you kept everything? All the stuff he's left you? All the messages?" You nodded as Takuma gripped you by the sides of the shoulders, your face crumpling as his hand raised to cup your cheek, staring deeply into you, leaning forward to press a desperate kiss to your forehead.

"Okay, listen, I'm gonna fix this," Takuma nodded hard, staring into you again as you started to shake your head, "no, no no, trust me. I promise I'm gonna fix this. Listen, you're...you're gonna go to Nanami's place. I'll call him. He'll understand. There's this lawyer at the school now, we'll gather everything and get it to him. I've...I've got to go out. I'll fix this, I mean it. I wouldn't let you down."

Takuma's heart wrenched as you continued to sob, apologising to him as if it was your fault. Within minutes, Takuma had called Nanami, and put you in a taxi. Sticking to the alleyways as he headed out into the streets, Takuma pulled his balaclava down, his eyes ferocious and vengeful as he took to the hunt.

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Your stalker was grossly familiar with your routine now. What you ate for breakfast (he had gone through your bin bags). What colour underwear you preferred (he had seen you through the gaps in your curtains). Which work events you were going to attend (he had scoured every inch of every company calender).

Thanks to some sloppy administrators, he even knew where you lived. Grinning to himself, he felt such a satisfying possession over you, knowing you inside-out. Hiding behind your neighbours' fence panels, he peeked, waiting for you to get home.

One hand leaned past his face, resting on the fence panel beside him, and his stomach froze into knots when he felt himself doused in the icy presence of some dark, unknown force. He opened his mouth to scream, and a second hand pressed over his mouth with horrifying strength.

"Hey, big guy! Wow, you really must be a hit with the ladies," air hissed through Ino's teeth and he sighed in feigned disappointment, "Not with my girl, though." Your stalker squeaked as blackness closed in around him. Ino let out a noise of disgusted amusement as the man's trousers darkened down one leg.

Ino continued, letting the man cry and shake under his hand; "Here's how this is gonna work..."

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Several days had passed since Ino had arrived at Nanami's to collect you, with a deeply satisfied smirk on his face. You had received no more messages. No more flowers. No more thinly-veiled threats. A dark cloud lifted off your mind, and you breathed easy.

Curled up on the sofa that night, you stroked Takuma's chest, listening to the clockwork thump of his heartbeat under your ear. Your curiosity got the better of you.

"Takuma...what did you do?"

Takuma grimaced, "Just showed him the error of his ways, babe. He won't be bothering you again."

While grateful, your belly swirled with fear, and guilt that even if your stalker left you alone, he'd just find someone else, another woman, and harass her just as he had harassed you-- or worse. Takuma read you like a book.

"Look, I-- I didn't want to force anything on you the other day. But I promise you, this guy knows that if you go to the cops about him, and he doesn't 'fess up, it'll be more than just me after him."

Ino smugly pictured Higuruma and Nanami, ready, Misters. Law and Order, prepared to flex their quite complementary powers of threat and legal representation.

You smiled, surrounded by an impenetrable wall of support. Leaning up, you tangled your fingers into Takuma's hair, and he let out a sweet hum of happiness as you kissed him deeply. Nose to nose, you took delight in showing your appreciation.

The next day, wearing a mantle of quiet bravery, you walked into the Police Station.

"I'd like to report a crime."

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Itadori Yuuji

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You had chosen absolutely the wrong shoes to go out in.

You shivered in the chilly night air; your skirt hadn't been this short all night, had it? The cold had a way of exposing things the mirror didn't. Still, you smiled to yourself as you leant against a lamp-post, removing your heels with a sigh of relief, certain you'd be comfier taking the last few streets before home barefoot than in these beautiful monstrosities.

You could not bring yourself to regret such a fun night. Waving your friends goodbye, you had foregone taking a taxi home. Tokyo was a safe city, anyway. It was only a short walk home. You could do with sobering up a bit.

Feet padding gingerly on the cold concrete, you tapped away on your phone as you began to walk home. Within a few minutes, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, cold prickles running down your spine.

Running a hand through your hair, you shielded your glance backwards; a man. Some distance away. By the lamppost you had removed your shoes at. You gulped-- it's nothing, you lied to yourself, just on his way home like me. But, just in case, you started walking faster, the soles of your feet stinging as they clapped against the floor.

Feeling tingles at the base of your skull a minute later, you felt the man closing in on you and bile climbed in your throat, feeling the alcohol threaten to come up into your mouth, options running through your head at breakneck speed, to scream or call the police or stop and fight or try to run faster or--

It was no use. He was almost on top of you now; you rounded the corner to a tree-lined street. You could smell the sweat on him, and you spun to face him, losing your footing and falling backwards onto the floor--

All at once, you screamed, a dark mass plummeted from the tree above you, and there was a sickening crunch as it flattened your pursuer to the floor.

The black mass, burly and pink-haired, stood up and turned to face you, opening his mouth--

You screamed again, still panicking, throwing a shoe at him, "What the hell are you? What are you doing?" The young man crouched, eyes wide, both hands in front of him, bleeding from the lip from your shoe.

"I'm a Yuuji, I'm a Yuuji--"

"--a Yuuji?!" You raised your hand again and he flinched. Your pursuer groaned underneath his feet.

"--I don't know if you know, but this guy was following you-- oh shit, you're not friends are you-- please don't throw another shoe at me--" Yuuji squeezed his eyes closed, hands still raised above his head in arrest. You surveyed him from the ground, your panic slowly abating.

He's cute, you thought as your head spun violently, and you rocked to the side, vomiting all over the pavement. Yuuji crept over to you, hands uncertain at first, but eventually settling on holding your hair back as the alcohol evacuated your stomach.

Patting your shoulder with upbeat reassurance, Yuuji turned to look at the man on the floor with a scowl.

"Creep," he grumbled, crushing the man's hand under his shoe. As the man squirmed and complained, Yuuji gave him an effortlessly hard punch to the side of the head, knocking him out cold in an instant. Rummaging in the man's pockets, Yuuji pulled out a drivers' licence.

"Oh hey, he lives nearby. Want to drop him home with me?" Yuuji asked you with a shit-eating grin.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Think that'll do it?" Yuuji dusted off his hands, surveying his handiwork with satisfaction. Tied up in the offerings of the man's shed (some old garden hose, with a wooden freshly painted sign hung around his neck), the man was dropped unceremoniously onto the doorstep. You snapped a quick photo on your phone, hand over your mouth as you laughed to yourself.

Yuuji pressed the doorbell, and grabbed your other hand, pulling you behind a hedge as you giggled like children together.

"I FOLLOW GIRLS HOME" read the man's sign, as his mother opened the door.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"--so anyway, I should probably get back to work, I guess...after you get home."

You rested your chin on Yuuji's shoulder as he piggy-backed you home, your shoes slung in one hand as he ambled, slowly zigzagging along the tree-lined street. Your eyes drooped, breathing in your new friend's soft, cosy smell, still occasionally giggling to yourself.

Arriving at your doorstep, Yuuji lowered you to the ground, and brought one hand up to awkwardly scratch the back of his head. His face blushed crimson when you leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. He grinned, shuffling sweetly, bidding you goodnight, but hesitating. You bit your lip, head tipped, waiting. Yuuji didn't get the hint, turning to walk away.

"Hey, my hero. All that, and I don't get your number?"

Yuuji's smile could have split rainclouds.

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Higuruma waiting on the ceiling above the office door like

Coming next: Gojo Satoru, Fushiguro Toji, Toge Inumaki, Fushiguro Megumi and Kugisaki Nobara.

#jjk #pseudowho #Defending your Honour #jjk higuruma #higuruma fluff #higuruma hiromi #higuruma #hiromi hiromi hiromi #higuruma hiromi x reader #jjk hiromi #hiromi x reader #ino takuma fluff #ino takuma #takuma ino #itadori yuuji #yuuji x reader #jjk yuuji #itadori yuji x reader #itadori yuji #jjk itadori #yuji itadori #itadori x reader #kento nanami #nanami fluff #jjk nanami

[lovifie]

Simon “I Will Never Be A Father” Riley, and how he ended up with a football team worth of kids.

CW: Like 2k words of fluffy Simon, and then 1k words of filth, massive breeding kink, creampie, disgusting sext talk mess. Enjoy! 🩷

Masterlist - Taglist Form

It's not his fault, it's yours. 

He met you really early in both of your careers, before either of you had really any important ranks, nor years of experience. 

But a mission together to recollect some intel was enough for the two of you to learn each other's names. 

It was back when rage still blinded more of Simon's senses, the loss of her family still recent. But you didn't know, obviously, and he wouldn't tell you. 

During that mission, he would constantly snap at you, unnecessary remarks and barks at you whenever you would ask something. 

Not that you would back down because of the overgrown chihuahua, usually just shouting back and ignoring him. Letting him to simmer in his guilty feelings.

But the time together helped to learn what buttons to press and when to act as if you hadn’t seen something, and by the time you made it back to base, to your different units; you said goodbye shaking hands and saying: “Nice to meet you, Riley. Don't die.”

He didn't say it back, but he felt it more. 

Years went by before he saw you again, and after a while, he simply assumed you did in fact, die. 

He was higher in his career, already being respected by most and always addressed as Ghost. The rage of his past was already on a secondary level. 

More mature, more knowledgeable, more experienced. 

But for some reason, he couldn't forget you. He had come across so many different people who would back down just for him looking at them, yet when he screamed at you, you didn't let him win. 

He missed you. 

He would never admit it, but he missed the girl he met on that mission those years back. Maybe if he had said it back you would be alive. 

Maybe.

“Riley?!” An unmistakable voice asks, radiant with happiness from his back. 

He turns around, eyes wide open looking for the source, for the girl he met so long ago, for the girl he thought had died. 

But he sees you.

The woman, on the same rank as his, grown, more mature, more knowledgeable and more experienced. 

Scars and wounds adorning your body just like his. 

“What is that mask, Riley?” You ask, smiling widely. “You turned emo?!”

You laugh loudly as you finally walk up to him, an awkward position of not knowing how to say hi after so long apart. 

“Aye, didn't want people falling in love with me like you did.” He says, completely baffling but still hoping it was true. 

“Argh.” You say, rolling your eyes as you slap his arm. “Well, excuse me, lover boy. Didn't know you have spent all this time fighting the ladies.”

There hasn't been any ladies. Not after you. He realises it in that moment.

“It's the uniform.” He explains, a stupid smug smirk under the mask. “And you? What have you been up to?”

“The usual, learned German, I knit now, killed a couple of hundred terrorists, and got my flying licence!” You enunciate, slightly jumping with the last. 

He doesnt realizes that the mask is not covering his eyes, and that no matter how cold and stoic he tries to act; you can see clearly as day the affection and happiness from seeing you again. 

This time, when you say goodbye, you keep each other numbers. A way to stay in contact, to check once a month if you are still alive. 

But again, time goes by before meeting in person again. 

And when it happens, Ghost is already on the 141; and it's not him the one that sees you first. 

“We are having a surprise guest on the next operation.” Price says one morning while they are having breakfast. “She’s from another base, but has an amazing resume. She's a lieutenant too. And with an ugly character, like you” He says, pointing at Ghost.

And he knows it's you. 

It gotta be. 

And a couple of days later, when you enter the mess hall; walking behind him and slapping the back of his head, he is elated.

“I knew I was smelling trash.” You say, looking down on him. Barely a bit taller than him when he is seated. 

He turns his body, resting his arm around your hips. “How long are going to be following me for, ya rat?”

“Hmm, not my fault you can't do your fucking job, useless bitch.” You say with a smile on your face as you rest your arm over his shoulders. 

“Well, somebody gotta take out the trash, you cunt.” He says, a smug smile on his face. 

“Aww, are you telling me to take you out, lover boy?” You say, resting your hand on your chest. That makes him bark a laugh, patting your side after, before saying. “I'm glad to see you are still in one piece, idiot.”

“The feeling is mutual, dickhead.” 

And that was the first time that Simon’s hand was resting on your hips, but definitely not the last. 

The first mission together with the 141 was an absolute shit show, everything that could have gone wrong… went wrong. And if it wasn't because of your stubbornness, it would have been Simon’s last mission.

Being trapped under debris, unable to get out of the burning building. Everyone was already out, only him inside, talking on the radio to tell the team to leave him behind. 

Except you, who managed to slip through Price's orders and run into the obvious death trap. Able to take the debris keeping Simon trapped with his help, both of you using the extra strength that only comes out in emergencies. Unknowingly, both of you going to the extreme of your resistance to make sure the other didn't die inside the building. 

And when he was in the hospital bed, days later, and you came to visit him, and you leaned forward and kissed him. It was the first kiss, but not the last one. 

The two of you, already adults perfectly functional, able to instruct armies, take down terrorist organisations, and yet… it was not until 8 months after the first kiss that one of you managed to ask the other out.

“The team were going out for drinks tonight, but they bailed… do you want to go still? The two of us?”

To this day, Simon still believes it was his doing that the two of you went alone to the pub, and you still have not had the heart to tell him it was you the one who asked Price, Soap and Gaz to tell him they couldn't go.

And once the door was opened, everything went smoothly and easily. Not bothering to call the relationship in any way, as if the two of you haven't been exclusive to the other from the first moment you met. 

Still, even more time went on before something more than kisses went down. Until the two of you went on separate missions, months spent apart from each other, only to reach base again at the same time. 

And as if you had planned, you walked to each other room. Meeting exactly in the middle and jumping into each other arms. 

Not that anyone else on the team had doubts about what went on between the two of you, but still was a surprising view. And you pulled Simon by his hand inside of his room, every doubt crumb was erased. 

And once it started, everything else went in a blur. By the time you took notice, the two of you were already married for a couple of years, the honeymoon phase was still strong, and expecting your first child. 

And Simon, who had always promised he would never have kids, now was obsessed with your pregnant self. During the pregnancy, he couldn't keep his hands away from your body.

Constantly feeling you up, every inch of skin, from your hips, to your breast, to your tummy. Completely obsessed and enamoured with your body, changing and adjusting to bear his child. His big-ass child. That had you wabling from the second trimester. 

He missed the birth, away on a mission when you were in your seventh month. Promising the mission would last a week, but he didn't take a step into your house until three months later. He didn't look Price at his face for weeks after the due date passed. 

The worst part was that there was no communication with you, complete radio silence. Again, like so many years ago; you could be dead and he wouldn't know. 

And when the plane landed, he took the quickest shower of his life. Because the worst case scenario was coming home to an empty house, but the worst second was holding his child for the first time with the blood of his enemies still on his hands. He wouldn't taint such an innocent thing. 

The door almost fell from the hinges when he entered, eyes looking through the house. Breathing only because he could see light from the bedroom, and then you walked out of the room. 

Looking at him with tears on your eyes as you run to him, jumping on his arms and getting crushed by his hug. Muttering apologies as he kissed your head, he still has not forgiven himself for failing you that day. 

You shake your head, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the bedroom. He freezes on his spot, as if he just remembered that he had a child; your abdomen way flatter than when he left. 

“C’mon, Si… Do you not want to meet your son?” 

A son.

He had a son. 

He followed you into the room, unable to say a word as he saw the tiny human sleeping in the middle of the bed. 

He walked behind you, waiting for instructions, his brain struggling to work normally. You tell him to sit down, picking the baby to lay him on his arms. The father finally holding his son for the first time.

And when the baby exhaled a satisfied sigh at the warmth pooling from Simon’s body, the first tear rolled down his cheek.

He didn't sleep that night, it didn't matter that he had barely been able to sleep the weeks before, he couldn't pull his eyes away from the baby. So that night, he stayed seated, with the baby on his arms and with you sleeping by his side.

The happiest night of his life. 

He finally took his parental leave, almost smashing the phone against the wall when Price called him; even though it was to congratulate him. 

And Simon, who always had believed he would never have kids, now had one. And that might have been the first child he had, but it was definitely not the last one. 

Because a couple of weeks later, when the two of you went to base; to introduce the baby to his teammates, Simon couldn't stop thinking about how good you looked with his child strapped to your body. 

His little head resting over your full breasts, sleeping and perfectly unaware of every problem in the world. But Simon couldn't stop looking at your chest, body changed to bear and care for his child; it was only fair he paid back. 

So when Gaz asked if he could hold the baby, it was Simon who helped you take the baby out of the little koala backpack; letting him hold it. 

And with a weak excuse, took you to his bedroom. Barely managing to close the door before bending you over his desk, pulling your pants down and stuffing your cunt with his thick fingers. Giving you barely any prep before the strain on his hardening shaft was too much for him to keep it away from your soaked cunt. Groaning in your ear as he thrusts fast and hard into your sweet pussy, rubbing your clit with his fingertip making you cling into the desk. 

“Such a good fucking mama you are.” He moans into your ear. “Driving me fucking crazy every time I look at you, so fucking beautiful, so fucking breathtaking, darling.”

Half of what he says doesn't make sense and the other half you can't even hear from over the sounds of the moans. 

“Gonna fuck you full of my child again, gonna keep you barefoot and pregnant, mama.” He moans again, kissing your neck from behind as his free hand keeps roaming your body, needing to feel more and more of you. “Looking like a bloody goddess with my child, gonna keep fucking you until it fucking catches, and then again, and again, and again… Do you want that, mama? Do you want it as much as me?”

“Fuck, yes!” You moan back, just as fuck out as him. The unforgiving pace pushing the breath out of your lungs, your legs barely able to hold your weight but it's not like Simon would let you fall. 

More and more words and promises keep falling from Simon's mouth, making it hard for your orgasm to take any longer to wash over you. 

But then Simon turns you around, laying you on your back and pulling your legs up, your knees beside your head; before he starts to thrust into you again, his happy trail rubbing against your clit. 

“Gonna make it catch, gonna fuck you so deep it is not even going to spill. Gonna get you fucking pregnant again, and this time I'm not gonna go away for a fucking second. Gotta give the little shit a sibling, ah?”

The stretch of your legs being pulled so back into your head making it almost uncomfortable if you were able to think at the moment. Your hands grabbing into his forearms to steady yourself. 

“The best fucking mama in the world you are, ah? Taking such good care of him.” He groans, engulfing your boob with his enormous hand. “Getting these tits fucking massive just for him, fucking little shit don't know how lucky he is to get such a good fucking moma.”

And you are ashamed to admit it, but the disgusting praises are enough to throw you over the edge; your head falling back against the desk with a loud cry of his name. 

“Fucking hell, darling.” He groans just like you. “That's it, choke my fucking cock, love. Milk it dry, suck it in. Fuck! Such a fucking perfect cunt, I would fucking live here. Sucking me in so good, such a greedy fucking cunt. I'm gonna fuck you so deep, I'm gonna give you twins, darling.”

And he doesn't give you time to breathe, his hips slapping hard against yours making you mewl at the overstimulation. Clenching down at the prolonged orgasm. 

You hear him groan over your exhausted body. “Fuuuck… Shit, love. Yeah… just like that, take it in, love, take it in. Hold it in, don't let it go to waste love.”

You fill him spill deep inside of you, pulling your legs impossibly higher lifting your butt off the desk, bending you in half with your cunt completely exposed. 

“Such a beautiful fucking cunt.” He says before leaning down, kissing your clit as if he was pecking your lips, only for him to literally make out with your cunt. Making you hiss and pull his hair back to make him stop and be able to breathe for a second. 

He pulls his head back, only to accumulate the saliva and arousal on his mouth and spit it back over your cunt making you shudder. He lowers your legs, impaling you back on his still hard shaft, pulling the breath from your lungs once more. 

“There you go, mama. Stuffed and plugged, so there is no risk.” He says, letting your legs rest down as he moves his hands to each side of your hips, pushing you impossibly closer to him, hitting as deep as he has ever reached. Slightly moving you up and down so your clit rubs against his pelvic bone, making you whine as you clench around him.

“Simon… Si, I need to fucking breathe.” You whine, trying to grab his hand.

“Nah, you got this…” He says without looking at your face, completely hypnotised by the way your folds part to take his cock in. “You are doing amazing, sweetheart.” 

Is only hours later, that Simon comes out of his room. Clothes changed, showered and without you (who is currently sleeping on his bed, too exhausted to even stay awake), and he walks up to the mess hall, where he assumed the boys are. 

Picking his beloved son from his captain's hands. “There you are, my boy.” He says softly, picking up the baby that looks ridiculously small in his arms. “Time for bed.” 

“Oi, LT!” Soap calls him. “So when is his sibling being born?”

He looks at Soap, his expression changing to a stern one. “Don't be disgusting, Johnny. That's my family you are talking about, have some decency”.

Taglist:

@crashtestbunny @going-to-ikea-for-the-fries @waiting-so-long @mothymunson @cod-z 

@lyralein @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @dumb12bvtch1212 

@thatonepupkai @darkangel4121  @spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @soupinasock  

@arbesa-mind @cmbghost @multifandomheathenannie @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk 

@reap3erslov3 @mothsdrabbles @ghosts-hoe @cassiecasluciluce @sleepdeprivedkat 

@lunamoonbby @hatterripper31 @contractedcriteria @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @fraserbraw 

@rosiehale23 @keiva1000 @sw33tsnow @loveandplanet @sobbingnshtting 

@dprmoon @simpsallthetime1997 @ladyxtiger @soapsmohawk-16 @nina6708 

@katreintjie @sacvh @archenillo @thesinsoflust @sodavrr 

@yuki2129 @mikaronn @idk-justkane @shanhalen @thatoneslvt 

#call of duty #call of duty smut #ghost simon riley #ghost x reader #cod #cod smut #call of duty imagine #ghost imagine #cod imagine #cod mw2 #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #ghost smut #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost #simon ghost riley x you #ghost cod #mw2 ghost #ghost mw2 #cod x reader #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty x reader #ghost x female reader #ghost call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon riley x female reader #simon riley #cod mwii

[kpopnstarwars]

NO NEED FOR ME TO HIDE🙏🏾🙏🏾

Bestie, are you going to continue Atonement universe?🥺 I am very curious on how their interactions could look like in the future, now that they have an accurate understanding of their intents

A/N: U ASKED JUST THE RIGHT QUESTION MY FAVOURITE BUNNY, but bc im evil i've made this into a bunch of feyd headcanons even tho no one asked

tw: 18+, smut headcanons (switch feyd ladies and gents), cannibalism (by the harpies), i dropkick everyone with feyd's trauma, therefore mentions of sa and pedophilia (fuck you vladimir), 'who did this to you' because man if that's not one of the yummiest things ever, nightmares, children and pregnancy, also sterility, swearing somewhere probably,

wc: 2.3k

part 1 (this can be read as a stand alone, it's just feyd headcanons)

feyd does everything he can to make up for how he treated you in the first months of your marriage

you assure him that it's fine, that he doesn't have to beat himself up over what he has done, but you still notice the pain in his eyes when he looks at you

he hovers close to you at all times, keeping a hand at the small of your back or pulling you close into his side

it's a strange process, only getting to know your husband in the fourth month of your marriage, but it's a process that you treasure

you'll ask him silly things from his favourite food to his opinions on the carvings on the table over there whenever the questions occur to you

it's late at night, while he's gently cleaning you up after sex or holding you tightly in his arms, your head tucked under his chin, when he tells you the deeper, more painful things

the grief in his voice is so raw as he describes to you how his uncle pitted him and rabban against each other from a young age, how his childhood was stolen from him - you ache for him, for the things that were taken from him before he could even fight for them

you find out about his nightmares soon after that - not because he tells you, but because one happens

you suspect there was something he wasn't quite ready to tell you, but you didn't press; no hands have handled feyd's heart the way he lets you, and you're determined to honour that privilege

a storm howls outside, and you think that the rumbles of thunder were what woke you

you turn over and realise it's feyd, his features contorted with fear even in his sleep, eyes rolling under the lids as he trembles, broken pleas leaving his lips

all you catch is a 'don't' and a 'please, uncle'

something cold slithers down your spine

touching his face, you grab his shoulder, shaking him, whispering his name, trying to wake him gently

a tear leaks down his cheek, and a meek sound leaves him, ripping your heart in two - you need to wake him up, free him from this dream

'feyd.'

his eyes snap open, and in them, you clearly see the expression of a trapped, cornered animal

you say his name again, and he looks at you sharply, unseeing

he's awake and yet somehow he's still trapped in the nightmare; he wraps his hands around your throat, and you gasp, nails digging into his forearms in an effort to wake him up

with precious air, you rasp out his name again, and he blinks, slowly gaining consciousness

his face crumples when he finds his hands around your neck

distress limns his features as he backs away from you, shaking his head, horrified by his own doing

your head spins with lack of air but you reach out to him, refusing to let him slip away - you snare him in your arms, hold him tightly, kiss his face

he doesn't move, afraid to hurt you

you pull back to stare him in the eyes

'i'm okay. i am okay. you hear me, feyd? i'm fine. i'm not hurt.'

he buries his face in your shoulder and when you feel hot tears on your skin, rage simmers and seethes, wrathful in your chest

'who did this to you?'

your voice is dripping with fury; he shakes with a sob, and you run your hands up and down his back, trying to soothe him and the anger inside you

eventually, he calms, and you tilt his face up, gently wiping the tears off his cheeks, waiting

he holds out his arms again, and you oblige him, letting him hide his face in your shoulder as he tells you the substances of his nightmares - memories of the baron, eyes rabid, hands reaching, and it makes you tremble with rage

you crush feyd in your grip, and he clings onto you, his eyes wet, letting you anchor his drowning spirit

the two of you fall asleep twined together, feyd cradled in your embrace

in the morning, you cup his face in your hands and tell him that you will protect him, fight for him, love him until your blood stills in your veins

one of the first thing feyd does is dismiss his harpies from their duties

originally, he was going to get rid of them permanently, but you convinced him not to, telling him you wanted to meet them

to be honest, feyd didn't really understand (he thought you wanted to 'use' them for a bit and was kind of taken aback until you reassured him you just wanted to talk to them)

he stayed in the room anyways, knowing that his harpies could be jealous, but he had nothing to fear

all you do is chat to them, and in the same way you charmed him, you charm them

feyd marvels at the way you reach out to them and connect with them with so much ease, laughing and joking with them, complimenting their pretty eyes and tattoos as if they are your long time friends

from then on, they are no longer feyd's harpies, but yours

they accompany you around the palace and sometimes to court

the latter causes quite a stir; none of the nobles can make sense of why the na-baron's feral cannibal troupe are now dressed in fine clothing and following the na-baronness around

you enjoy their company - they brighten your day considerably, and are not afraid to make remarks a little too loudly in front of nobles

you have to hide your laughter when one of them comments on the scruffy facial hair of the duke addressing feyd, even more so when he stares at them wide eyed, a little fearful of them

in a way, they protect you and you protect them

if a noble approaches you with disrespect, they'll joke loudly among themselves about the taste of his flesh

in the same way, if someone makes a snide remark of their presence, you're quick to challenge it

the perplexed look on feyd's face amuses you to no end when he realises they prefer you now

feyd and the harpies teach you about harkonnen culture

feyd especially tells you stories about how he hunted on forests long cut down when he was a boy, and you love to listen to him, watching his face and drinking in the softer, nostalgic tone in his voice

he shows himself to you in little ways

feyd complains to you about the nobles in the court, how he hates their decorum and their entitlement

he talks to you for hours about different fighting forms, occasionally getting up to demonstrate them to you, and you marvel at the accuracy and fluidity of his movements

he takes you to his favourite parts of giedi prime, shows you the volcanoes and the less polluted parts of the capital city

he tells you the story of every scar on his body, and you find yourself captivated by the look in his eyes as he recalls a good fight

he whispers on your skin promises - promises of love, sweet on his tongue but never cloying, always true

in turn he asks you about your old life, about your home planet and your family

you answer happily, loving the way his eyes follow you, their blue tone becoming your favourite colour

you tell him about the time you visited to see him fight, how you saw the fire within him even then, and he chuckles, enthralled by the idea that even when the two of you were too young to really comprehend what your arranged marriage meant, you were still drawn to each other

he tells you how when he raised his knife, victorious, he spotted you in the crowd - a small girl, her back ram rod straight - and thought you were the sweetest thing he'd ever laid his eyes on

not that you seemed breakable to him; no, he thought you were formidable, too, not even bothering to hide your frown in an arena of cheering, happy faces

it felt right that he would marry a woman who wasn't afraid of him

feyd teaches you how to fight

he delights in the way you grow so bold with him, delivering snarky remarks if he teases you, rising to meet everything he throws at you

you're a good fighter - unpredictable in your moves - and he's immeasurably proud that he was the one who taught you

sometimes, once you're good enough to duel, you'll end up staggering to the nearest somewhat secluded area to fuck

now that you know you're not alone, you're so confident of yourself, confident in the electrifying look in your eyes and confident in the way you make him beg

feyd never thought he'd like to give up control, but with you it's addicting

he trusts you

he lets you ravage him, lets you use him until he's spent, panting, thighs shaking, knowing that you would let him do the same - knowing that you do let him do the same

there's something so raw about letting himself go in your touch

his head spins when you tie him up, your deft fingers checking the knots and tightening the bindings across his torso, making art with his skin as the canvas

feyd is addicted to you in every aspect

he can't get enough of your pussy; he'd spend hours between your legs, pulling sounds out of you that you didn't know you could make

he thinks that the closest he's ever come to heaven is when he's buried balls deep in your cunt while you beg him harder, faster

A/N: i couldn't choose between these two scenarios so have both

EITHER after almost a year, you begin to wonder why you haven't pregnant

especially with the way feyd fucks you

so you seek the help of a doctor - the test results come back a week after, accusatory, damning

you're sterile

your first reaction is to tell feyd, but once you find yourself face to face with him, his gaze concerned as he holds your waist, you can't tell him

you just fall into his arms, staying your tears, doubts crawling into your skull and gnawing at the edges of your mind

you can't give him an heir

there's no way around it

what if he takes a concubine? what if he realises you serve no purpose to him? what if he stops loving you?

feyd doesn't pry about the tests results until the next day when he finds you in the shower, hands trembling and head bowed

he tips your chin up so he can look you in the eye

'tell me what troubles you, my love.'

so you do, with his fingers curled around your waist, the shower water running over your skin

he kisses you once you finish, and it tears at his heart the way you're looking up at him, trying to hide the worry in your eyes as you wait for his reply

feyd doesn't mince his words when he tells you that he doesn't care if you cannot give him an heir, that all he asks of you is to let him love you - it's then that the tears fall, and he kisses them away, holding you close to him

you grieve for the children you can never have, but feyd remains by you, almost supernatural with the way he senses your pain

your gaze might fall upon one of the servant's children, causing an ache in your heart, and within a few seconds his fingers will twine with yours and he'll tuck you into his side, kissing your hair

OR you have twins: one girl, one boy

the girl is three minutes older than the boy

feyd is obssessed with your pregnant body; he always has his hands on you in some way

he gets more protective, if that's possible

sometimes he lies between your thighs, his palms spread over your stomach as he talks to the two of them, and the softness and wonder in his eyes brings a warmth to your chest

feyd is with you when you feel the first contraction and promptly carries you to the midwives

he lets you crush his hand in your grip as you give birth to the lives you've made together, wiping the sweat off your forehead and quietly encouraging you

the first time you hand them to him to hold, he's hesitant, hands fluttering over you as he figures out what to do, but he's a fast learner

there's a fierce protective glint in his eyes when he cradles them in his arms, one that you glimpse when he looks at you too, and within it there's a deep, pure joy

he teaches them how to fight, and yet he's still so gentle with them, laughing as they giggle and cling to him, one latched onto each leg

the girl is how you'd imagine feyd was as a boy: half feral, yet charming when she wants to be, while the boy is a little calmer, more unflappable, and happy to entertain his sister's mischievous endeavours

both love the harpies, and there have been multiple times when you walk in on the twins gaping wide eyed at the harpies as they regale them with old tales

sometimes, feyd will scoop them up, one in each arm, so they can reach up and give you a little kiss on the cheek before he pecks your lips

you think it's beautiful, the family that you've made with him

feyd loves the way you look at him, with that mischief in your eyes, as if you're sharing a secret with him

he loves your sweet laughter, the softness in your hands when you touch him and how you don't shy away from protecting him, defiant even in his uncle's presence

he knows he would kill for you, die for you - he'd do anything for you

you would do the same: it makes feyd's head fuzzy, when you get so fiercely protective over him, placing your hand on his shoulder as you glare at the baron, lacing your words with venom when you address him

you'd stop at nothing, just to protect his honour

when you're after something, nothing stands in your way, and yet you can handle him with such soft, gentle hands, banishing his nightmares with the light tracing of your fingertips on his back

feyd heals in your presence, and you grow in his

your love is eternal

#bald freak supremacy #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #austin butler #dune #dune two #dune part two #dune 2 #dune part 2 #dune ii #dune part ii #feyd rautha fic #feyd rautha fanfiction #feyd-rautha #dune fanfiction #dune smut #atreides #house harkonnen #feyd rautha x reader #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha x you #dune x you #feyd oneshot #feyd x y/n #dune x y/n #feyd angst #feyd fluff

[little-diable]

Guilt - Feyd-Rautha (smut)

So, I watched Dune again, and this came to me mid movie. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

!Contains spoilers!

Summary: The reader is married to Feyd, she felt him being touched by Lady Margot – now he has to prove to her how much he loves her.

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f), implied cheating/somewhat not really since she knew it'd happen, some angst, strong-headed reader, still some fluff (?)

Pairing: Feyd-Rautha x fem!reader (1.3k words)

“You know, na-Baron, sleepless nights can be cruel.” Her voice echoed through their dark chamber, back turned to him as her eyes stared outside. Feyd froze in his step, he had just entered the room, careful not to wake her. (Y/n) held a blade between her fingers, letting her fingertips stroke along the sharp edge.

“Nightmares again?” A scoff wanted to claw through (y/n) at his question. Feyd was playing her, thinking she hadn’t noticed how he had slipped out of the room, hiding away from his own celebrations - only to run into Lady Margot. (Y/n) had felt it the second the woman had touched him, in ways only (y/n) had been asked to touch her very own husband. 

But the way was cruel, guided by power-hungry women who thought of them better than her. 

“You dare lie to your wife?” (Y/n)’s voice was sharper than ever before, she didn’t see the way he slightly stumbled back, not expecting that chilly tone of hers. Feyd ran his tongue along his black teeth, trying to fight against an emotion he hadn’t felt before, an emotion he had been a stranger to – until now. Guilt. A sensation that wandered up his body, making him almost choke on his bile.

“It needed to be done.” Within seconds she stood in front of him, with her blade pressed against his throat, with her eyes burning holes into his skin, with tears about to drip from her eyes. It was true, it had to be done, and she had known that the Bene Gesserit order would grasp any chance they could get to fulfil it. Feyd-Rautha was a puppet of their game, a puppet who had now offered all his weaknesses to them. 

“I ought to kill you with that blade, rip you to pieces the way you’ve ripped my heart to pieces. I thought you were stronger than that, husband, it’s a shame I’ve married a man who behaves like a child.” No word left Feyd at the harsh words she spoke, words he’d kill others for without blinking once. But all he did was wipe away her tear, one single drop that dared to escape her glassy eye. “Wash yourself clean, I can still smell her on you.”

“Join me, na-Baroness.” Her hand met his cheek before he could see it coming, shakily inhaling at the rage now simmering inside of him. Feyd’s black teeth ran along his lower lip while his hand found her wrist, harshly tugging her against his chest. “The next time you raise your hand at me, I won’t be as gentle with you, wife.”

“Gentle? You breed another woman, you embarrass your wife, and now you threaten her? I have never feared you, and I won’t start now, bound together by a promise that has lost its meaning.” It was pathetic of her, to treat him like her enemy because he had done what had needed to be done. But her pain weighed heavier than her rational thoughts, guiding her on as Feyd cupped her cheek before interlacing their fingers.

No word left him as he began to lead (y/n) into the washroom, tugging on her nightgown to expose her naked body. Pleasure had always been one of his few weaknesses, and even though he had found pleasure in fucking the Lady, it hadn’t felt like it did with (y/n), not as raw, as intimate as he was used to by now. 

Feyd sank into the water first, but his eyes didn’t leave her naked frame once. Wordlessly, he reached his hand out for her to take, to pull her into the bath. (Y/n) shuddered in his hold, she tried to shake off the emotions thumping through her like a sandstorm set to bury her alive, and yet she miserably failed at it. For the first time since knowing Feyd-Rautha, she lost her grip on her emotions. 

“I love you.” Three simple words Feyd hadn’t ever spoken before rolled off his tongue, words that hadn’t ever managed to leave his mouth, held back by his black teeth that wouldn’t dare part. But now they had rolled off his tongue all too easily, surprising him and her. 

“The wonders of guilt.” A humourless laugh left (y/n). “Don’t keep lying to me, husband. I’m not your pet nor your toy, don’t lure me into false comfort with pretty words and thin lies.” Feyd tightened his grasp on her cheeks, squeezing them to keep her from saying another word. A rough kiss was pressed to her lips, drawing a moan out of (y/n) at the familiarity of the sensation. 

“I love you.” He repeated the words, pronouncing every single one of them as if he were speaking a threat, hoping to open her eyes. She stared at him for a while, trying to figure out how sincere the words were - if they were sincere at all, but the pain tugging on his expression told her everything she needed to know. The sigh leaving her made Feyd loosen his grip on her cheeks, letting his hand wander down to her neck. 

“I love you too, even though I try to hate you, now more than ever.” Another rough kiss was shared between them, drawing moans from both lovers. Feyd’s cock twitched against her, in any other scenario he would have fucked her by now, murmuring into her ear that he’d pump her full, desperate to see her with a round belly, but today he didn’t. A wise decision she was grateful for.

But even though he stopped himself from forcing his cock into her cunt, his hand didn’t stop moving, cupping her heat with an almost soft grin tugging on his lips. Their eyes held contact as he circled her pulsing bundle, using just enough strength to leave her shuddering. Her mind screamed at her, but her body craved his touch like a drug as if she was high on spice. 

“You know it had to be done, but you need to know it wasn’t like this.” His words weighed heavy, telling her that their bond would survive every attack, even death they’d overcome together. “You are my end and my beginning, na-Baroness.”

Two of his fingers pushed into her tightness, engulfed by her fluttering walls. Her moans filled the washroom, echoing off the walls like screams of prisoners, slashed by Feyd’s blade for his mere enjoyment. An exciting sensation he had always craved, just like the orgasms he lured out of her, watching them clash through her shaking body. 

“My beautiful wife, you were made for me, destined even.” (Y/n) couldn’t reply, her eyes rolled back into her head as her fingernails left crescent-shapes on his shoulders. Her orgasm was close, pushed into her high by his cold fingers, feeling them on her clit and against her swollen spot, hers forever.

“Cum for me, show me how much your body craves me.” She came with a gasp, tightening her grip on Feyd as her high clashed through her. Heavy pants spluttered from her lips at the blinding sensation, too distracting to study Feyd’s smirk, the satisfied expression tugging on his handsome features. 

“You’re forever mine, (y/n), and nothing may change that, no prophecy, no destiny.”

#Feyd Rautha smut #Feyd Rautha imagine #Feyd Rautha x reader #dune #Austin butler smut

[joelmillers-whore]

I'll Be Here In The Morning

summary: after a heated argument, you try to go to sleep alone, but joel knows you can’t and he doesn’t like not sleeping next to you. he comes back and the next thing you know, the two of you can’t keep your hands off of each other.

Recommended Song(s): Sweater Weather - The Neighbourhood

Word Count: 4.2K

Series or One-Shot

Warnings: 18+ explicit, minors DNI, joel x female!reader, no mention of Y/N, no outbreak, slight relationship insecurity, they have a fight but it’s not shown, SMUT, joel calling reader darlin’ because why not, joel reassuring them and being sweet, also age gap i guess, canon divergent, praise kink, unsafe sex (don't be like joel, use a condom)

A/N: hey ya’ll! this is my first TLOU fic and i am so excited to post it here (also my first time posting on here). i am an AO3 user through and through but i thought it was time to broaden my horizon so to speak. i was so overwhelmed with how many of you wanted to see this type of fic, so please don’t hesitate to tell me what you think or request anything you want to see. i’ll try to get to it/ i’m trying to be more active. i’m not sure if my asks are open so let me know if that works lol. anyway, i hope ya’ll enjoy this!!

Slamming the bedroom door behind you, you crossed your arms over your chest. You were angry, furious even, mostly with yourself but also with your boyfriend. Anger was coursing through your veins, pumping white-hot rage through them that made your chest constrict when you thought back to the petty fight you’d had with Joel not ten minutes ago.

It was mindless, stupid bullshit but you’d gotten angry over it anyway. You weren’t even a hundred percent sure just how it started, but you did know that you had been a simmering pot, ready and waiting to explode. So you had needed to get out of there, away from him. You didn’t fight with Joel often, even though your clashing personalities would beg to differ. When you did get angry though, there was no holding either of you back. 

You and Joel each had your own way of dealing with anger and most times, you chose to walk away, not wanting to accidentally say the wrong thing or to say something hurtful that you didn’t mean in the heat of the moment. So, here you were. In the bedroom. Fighting back against your racing heart and rising body temperature.

You had come back home after a long day on your feet and something mundane had set you off, and Joel just happened to be in the line of fire. Before long, you and Joel had gotten into it and not in the fun and sexy way you found yourself always wanting from him, regardless of what kind of mood you were in. 

You thought back to the argument and how dark and endless Joel’s eyes had looked, how they seared into you when you were fighting, keeping you locked in and firmly in place. A shiver ran up the length of your spine as you imagined how he had crossed his arms, clearly in frustration, but how even when you were angry, you hadn’t been able to look away from his broad chest or how the material of his shirt had been pulled so tautly over his bulging muscles, making you bite your lip.

That annoying little flutter in the pit of your stomach made you groan in exasperation because even when you were upset with him, you couldn’t deny the sexual chemistry you and Joel had. 

You shook your head, trying to shake yourself from your lust-induced daydream. You were overtired from work and clearly still reeling from an argument that you hadn’t been expecting to come home to. You glanced over at the clock; it was later than you had realized it was. How long had you and Joel been fighting for?

The all too familiar feeling of regret settled into your bones. You hated fighting with Joel, with the one person you considered to be more of a family to you than your actual family. But what was done was done and there was no going back now. 

Neither one of you held onto anger for long, both of you deciding a long time ago that if either one of you were still angry in the morning over what had transpired the night before, you would agree to sit down and hash it out. That rule had probably saved your relationship more than once, and anger between the two of you never lasted for more than two days at most.

Rolling back your shoulders, you held firm to the idea that holding onto what you had said and dwelling on it wouldn’t help you now, so you thought about something else instead. You thought about how your muscles ached and how a migraine was slowly forming. The only cure that could help you now was sleep. 

You knew that come the morning you and Joel would be back to bickering lovingly with each other and laughing over breakfast, just like how it always turned out. He was bound to forgive you, you hoped. But what if this fight was the one that tipped him over the edge? What if when he left, he wouldn’t come back?

Your heart sank into the pit of your stomach like a thousand-pound boulder. You bit back the sting of tears and honed your hearing, listening for anything in the darkness that enveloped you. Disappointment manifested quickly when you heard nothing, except for your harsh breathing. Fuck.

You had fucked up royally, laying into him like that. And he wasn’t even there so you could fix it, there was really nothing you could do at the moment. You debated for a minute about calling him but you decided against it. He needed time to cool off— you both did. And you wanted to give him that time. 

With a heavy heart, you started getting ready for bed. Maybe if you went through the motions, pretended like everything was fine, and sped through the night, Joel would be there when you woke up, smirking like you were his whole world again. So you rid yourself of your clothes and changed into something more comfortable; one of Joel’s shirts that went down to your knees and some sleep shorts. You lifted the hem of the shirt to your nose and inhaled, getting lost in the scent of him that still lingered.

It was warm and clean with a faint hint of coffee. It was Joel to the core and you rubbed your thighs together when you thought about how that scent crowded you when you and him made love, or when you had first started seeing each other, you had stayed up during a rain storm and just talked for the whole night, staying awake on black coffee and powdered donuts. 

Mindlessly, you climbed into bed and settled in, trying to fall asleep despite the gnawing feeling in your gut. You sighed heavily, flipping over the pillow and then fluffing it, repeating the motions until you made your head spin. You never could sleep alone. Even before you had met Joel, you hated it. And right now, you hated it even more, especially when you reached over to his side, feeling for him.

But there was nothing there except the coldness of the sheets. You grew annoyed at yourself for how needy you felt without him snuggling next to you, his body heat warming you up better than any blanket could. You wanted Joel here, not anywhere else. And he knew it, which was why he almost never left you to sleep alone if he could avoid it. Almost never. Until now. 

You closed your eyes and tried to count sheep, thinking that it could help. You tried not to concentrate on how alone you felt or how you missed him so much it hurt. Counting sheep must have helped because before you knew it, you found yourself in a dreamless sleep, tossing and turning for the majority of the night. Your ears pricked up when you heard a noise, thinking you heard the bedroom door open. You stiffened, attempting to remain calm and closing your eyes tighter.

Whoever it was moved around in the dark, their shadow fidgeting with the dresser before they climbed into bed next to you. They nudged themselves closer to you and relief washed over you when you recognized their scent. It was Joel. He came back. Just like he always did. 

He shuffled his body closer to you, his solid front melding to your back, as his face snuggled into the crook of your shoulder, just how you liked it. It confirmed that he was there and he wasn’t just a figment of your imagination. 

“You still mad?”, Joel mumbled, his Southern drawl coming out gruffer as he tried to keep his voice low. He nuzzled your shoulder deeper, planting a soft kiss there. 

You shook your head, as best as you could in the position you were in. You were well past the anger stage. And right now, you just wanted him beside you, with you. Right here. You felt Joel’s growing hardness rest against your back and a dull throbbing started in your cunt, making you squirm. 

“I thought you weren’t coming back”, you croaked, the shroud of darkness acting as a shield against how scared you were at the thought of Joel not coming back at all. 

Joel held you tighter, his arms flexing as he wrapped them around you in the same way you were used to. His gesture of keeping you close was more of a comfort to you than any of his words could. You craned your neck slightly, trying to make out the expression that was on Joel’s face, but it was hard.

The bedroom was mostly dark except for a tiny sliver of moonlight that shined through the window, and even then, it was tough. You could make out the tiniest of details in the low light; like the imperceptible way that his eyebrows creased when he was focused on you, or how you could tell that he was still smiling because of the way his eyes crinkled, despite being unsure of your mood. God, you loved this man. 

Joel was there for you and you let out a tentative and shaky breath, grateful that he came back to you. You let any remaining tension drain from your body, and shifted your hips, which earned you a sharp groan from Joel, his hand flying to hold your hips in place. 

“I’ll always come back to you, darlin’”, his voice was gruff and came out strained. His hot breath fanned over your ear, “Always”. 

“Promise?”, you asked, grinding back into him again. It was the last confirmation you needed and then you would drop it, let the argument fade away. 

You could hear the smile in Joel’s voice, “Promise”. 

The tightness that had been sitting on your chest was no more and you were feeling bold, and a little more than turned on. The idea that Joel would always come back to you made you wet, and you rubbed your thighs together, trying to alleviate some of the pressure you felt between your legs.

As if sensing your arousal, Joel’s hand wrapped around your middle, pulling your ass flush with his erection, his hand splayed across your clothed stomach, holding you to him. 

You felt his short stubble run along the side of your neck, and your jaw, the abrasive sensation making your pussy flutter with the idea of that stubble rubbing against you harshly, until you were swollen and red down there. 

“Baby...”, Joel protested weakly, his half-hearted attempt at drawing out the tension between you two. But there was tension and it was a string that was being pulled taut, ready to snap at any moment. 

You grabbed Joel’s hand that was on your stomach, guiding it lower and lower until you stopped at the waistband of your sleep shorts, your chest on fire from your choppy breathing. 

“Please, Joel”, you whined, grinding your ass back into him and moving your hips in slow circles, spurring him on. “I want you to make me feel so good like you always do”. 

You were back to guiding Joel’s hand past the waistband of your shorts, into your underwear where he could feel how wet you were for him. He groaned, the vibrations from it making your skin tingle. An almost non-existent fuck was whispered as Joel’s hand found your soaking cunt, his deft fingers sliding through your folds.

When you removed your hand from his, letting him take charge, he hesitated. But when his thumb found your clit and you moaned, throwing your head back, he continued, not stopping for even a second. 

“This good?”, he asked, as he teased your hole with his thick digit, pulsing the finger in and out, just enough to taunt you with pleasure and then rip it away when it felt too good. It was frustrating but you figured you somewhat deserved it for the fight from earlier. 

You hummed, “Mo-more”, and you bucked into his hand, gyrating against it as you searched for more friction. 

Joel sucked the pulse on your neck hard and you groaned, your head rolling to the side in pure ecstasy as he licked the spot when he pulled away. Fulfilling your command, he continued to work you over, work you to the edge. Your moans mixed with the sound of his finger, which soon became two fingers, pumping into you, a squelching emanating from you with every pump.

He was stretching you out, trying to prep you for his cock. Even this far into the relationship you needed some prep, he was that big. But you wouldn’t want it any other way. You loved his size and his girth and how deep he could go. 

“Can you come for me, darlin’?”, Joel asked, as a groan slipped past his lips. 

You flinched when his fingers curled, bringing you back to the moment as a tingle started low in your belly, the pressure building and building until it was too much, it was all too much. 

“Fuck—”, you cried, cutting yourself off as your orgasm slammed into you, making you see stars. It was searing and hot and violent. 

Your hips stuttered as they rocked into Joel’s hand, finding comfort in the fact that he was still lazily pumping into you, helping you ride out the aftershock. 

“That’s my good girl”, he praised, thumb whispering over your swollen clit. You whined from the added pressure, feeling another orgasm start to build. 

You had just cum and yet Joel was ready and willing to give you another one. Even when his engorged cock was nestled into your back, twitching with the need for his own release. He wanted— no, needed to give you your pleasure before he could seek out his own. Joel teased your clit again, pinching it as you yelped.

He removed his hand from your underwear and brought it to his mouth. You still weren’t facing him but you could hear the obscene sounds coming from him as he licked and sucked his fingers clean of your juices, not letting a drop go to waste. Fuck, you were so turned on already it was positively insane. 

Joel gripped your waist and turned your body toward him, positioning himself so that he was slotted in between your legs, his upper body resting on his forearms, so as to not crush you with his body weight. Both of your chests were heaving at this point as another shot of excitement and arousal shot through you.

You brought a hand to Joel’s cheek, thumbing over his scruff and savouring this tender moment between the two of you. 

“I’m sorry”, you said, swallowing your nerves. 

In the softness of the moonlight, Joel’s eyes glimmered when they looked down at you. It wasn’t quite lust or amusement in them, but something else, something closer to love and adoration.

He dipped his head down and kissed you. It was tempered and subdued but sweet as he licked your bottom lip, asking for entrance into your mouth. You granted it to him, letting him explore your mouth like it was the first time. A swallowed-up moan left you and Joel pulled back. 

“Me too”. 

It was simple and yet he meant it with his whole heart, you were certain of that. Picking up where you left off, Joel palmed your breast through your— his shirt, making you tremble beneath him. He pinched your nipple and it made you arch your back off the bed, both to escape and chase that feeling. 

“Let’s get this shirt off, hmm?”, Joel mused, playing with the hem of it. You nodded and lifted your upper body off of the bed as he helped you out of it, tossing it somewhere behind him. 

“Your turn”, you said, almost breathlessly, and Joel obliged. He sat up on his knees and stripped himself of his own shirt. 

You couldn’t help but pause and appreciate him and his physique. He wasn’t insanely built like an athlete or someone who stuck to a strict diet all so that they could get a six-pack. Joel’s body was sculpted from years of manual labour and although some might not be turned on by a broad chest and a toned stomach, you certainly were, and you were enamoured by it.

Your hand seemed to have had a mind of its own because you were raking your fingernails along his chest and stomach, drawing a line all the way down to his waistband. You watched as his muscles tensed from your touch, his eyes snapping shut like he had to concentrate on restraining himself.

Your hand remained on his waistband, your index finger playing with the dark line of hair that led all the way past the pants and to the straining member, you knew awaited you. 

“If you don’t quit staring at me like that, darlin’, this might be over before either of us want it to be”, he drawled, quiet and low. 

Your eyes snapped to his, which were dark and endless pools filled with lust. He looked like he was ready to devour you and your thoughts came to life when he gripped your thighs forcefully and spread them apart, making quick work of peeling you out of your shorts and drenched panties. 

Joel groaned above you, “Such a pretty pussy, and ‘s all for me, ain’t she?”. He bit the tender flesh of your inner thigh, making you jump. But you didn’t go very far, his grip on the back of your thighs holding you close to him and keeping you in place. 

You wiggled your hips, trying to get him to hurry up, “All for you”, you whine. 

Joel chuckled, but didn’t tease you for much longer, answering your silent prayer as he dove into your cunt, lapping and sucking like he was a man starved. You writhed beneath him as he continued, not letting up as he brought you to the edge of another orgasm. 

“How you feelin’, baby?”, Joel asked, as he came up for air. You nodded fervently, feeling like you could die if he didn’t continue what he was doing. 

He chuckled as he went back in, the vibrations making your head swirl and your toes curl at the sensation of his tongue fucking into you. You were so close it hurt and Joel could tell.

He shushed you before bringing his thumb to your clit and massaging it in tandem with his tongue, making you mewl and bury your hands in his short hair, pulling at his scalp as you begin to grind yourself on his face, practically riding him as you chase your high. 

“I’m gonna—”, and you do. 

You cum hard and quick, this orgasm ripping into you like a hurricane. The blinding wave of pleasure had all of your inhibitions clouded, as a light buzz started coasting through your body, leaving you sated. Your mouth is agape, a mix of a whimper and a shrill moan escaping you. 

You felt as though you had just run a marathon, your body was on fire and yet there was a calm as you came down. You revelled in the aftermath of your orgasm, feeling drunk off of it. There was a slick layer of sweat that coated your whole body, but you didn’t seem to care. Your mind was quiet as you listened to your breathing, your heart hammering below the surface.

Running a hand through your hair, you felt the mattress dip when Joel shifted his body weight, his beard glistening with your slick. You reach down and grab his face with both hands, bringing him to your lips. You groan when you taste yourself on him, the tang fueling your growing desire to be filled deep with him. 

Joel murmured something against your lips but you couldn’t hear, your heart beating too loudly. “What?”, you asked. 

“I need to be inside of you”, he whispers again, and you moan as he ruts into your bare core. 

“Then do it”, you said, looking at him through hooded eyes. 

Joel bit his lip, shaking his head as he stripped out of his jeans and then his boxers. His dick was thick and angry, the tip a bright red as it leaked pre-cum. You followed a drop with your eyes as it trailed down the shaft and you licked your lips at the sight. 

Joel chuckled, the noise shooting straight to your needy core. You sat up slightly, reaching out for his cock but he stopped you, “Not tonight, sweet thing”, he stated, “I don’t know how long I’ll be able to last if you start suckin’ me off”. 

You keened at his words, desperate for some sort of relief. You snaked your hand from the pillow all the way down your chest, rubbing your nipple as you moaned, Joel’s eyes never leaving you. His eyes on you felt right, like you were putting on a show just for him, and in a way, you were. He watched your hand slide lower down your stomach and finally disappear between your legs. 

“Goddammit”, Joel hissed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly, “What’d I just say?”. 

He ripped your hand away from your aching cunt, pining it above your head as punishment. You let out a choked sob, “Please...”. 

Joel’s cock twitched against his stomach at your plea, and he released you. He gripped his length and tugged harshly, letting beads of pre-cum dribble all over his hand.

You watched him throw his head back as he panted above you, finding a rhythm. As you opened your mouth to whine and tell him that you needed him, he grabbed the back of your legs and folded you in half, thrusting his hard cock into your pussy. 

The force of him slamming his cock inside of you without much warning was enough to make you cry out. You couldn’t focus on much more than the pleasure that he could provide. It was as if you could never be fully satisfied, not when it came to Joel. You would always want him as desperately as he wanted you, each and every time. His hips snapped into yours, almost to the point of pain as he set a demanding pace, burying himself deeper and deeper into you. 

“So”. He grunted with a thrust. “Fucking”. Another snap of his hips. “Needy”. Thrust. 

Joel was never one to deny you, and you knew that. You might have been needy but he was willing to give you whatever you needed. And most times, all you needed was him. Him and that fucking delicious cock. So, he made sure he delivered you another orgasm. You chased your release, the desire striking you like a bolt of lightning— fast, powerful, and all-consuming.

It started in your toes and rushed in. Joel’s thick cock pumped in and out of you hungrily. He was both providing you with another orgasm and trying to find his own release. Each thrust was more punishing than the last, each angle hitting the right spot, and guiding you both to your release. 

“That’s it, baby”, he groaned, manhandling you until you were basically straddling him, his hands on your back, holding you steady.

“Can you gimme another one?”, Joel purred into your ear as he fucked up into you, his hips losing their rhythm and you knew he was close. 

“I’ll try”, you said, snaking a hand in between your bodies, and rubbing your cunt in time with each pound of his hips. 

“That’s it, you’re doing so good”. 

He barely finished his sentence before you were shaking in his arms, finding your orgasm from his praise. 

Drunk on only two orgasms, you didn’t even know what you were saying at this point, too sensitive and too sated at the same time, “Mmm, love when you make me come”. 

Joel laughed with adoration as he continued fucking you, chasing his own release. “And I love makin’ you come, darlin’”. 

You felt your walls clamp around his cock, milking him for all he was worth. With a final few pumps, he groaned, letting his head fall against your shoulder. Joel tensed slightly and his body shook as he deposited ropes of cum deep into you.

Your head lolled to the side, feeling his body grow slack against yours. His was flush against you, trying to control his breathing as you did the same, your arms wrapped around him as you stroked his back. 

A long moment of comfortable silence passed before he lifted his head up, scanning your face. You smiled tiredly at him as he kissed you, letting the bliss wash over you both.

Joel kissed your forehead and slipped out of you. You in turn whined at the loss of being full of him. Your limbs were heavy as you melted into the mattress, feeling Joel collapse next to you. His arm drifted around your waist, pulling you into his side. 

He kissed your temple affectionately, “‘m sorry about our fight”. 

You nodded, snuggling closer to him. “I know”, you bit your lip, contemplating your next words, “I just worry that one day we’ll really get into it and you’ll never come back”. 

Joel stiffened for a moment, before he turned to you, whispering into your hair, “You don’t need to worry ‘bout that ever, darlin’. Because I’ll always be here in the morning”. 

#pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #tlou hbo #the last of us fic #writeblr #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #pedropascal #pedro is daddy #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedrohub #my fic #fic rec #fanfic

[dolcettamagica]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞

gangleader!sukuna x reader, modern au

tags: possessive & obsessive sukuna, choking, lowkey stalking translations: piccola - little one/baby notes: listen to "salvatore" by lana del rey wc: 1.7k

In the dimly lit underbelly of the city, where shadows whispered secrets and alleys told tales of violence, there existed a figure feared and revered in equal measure: Sukuna Ryomen, the enigmatic leader of the most dangerous gang. His name struck terror into the hearts of those who dared oppose him, while his charisma drew countless souls into his fold.

Sukuna was a man who commanded respect without uttering a word. His mere presence exuded power, his icy gaze capable of silencing even the boldest of adversaries. With a network spanning the city's underworld, he held dominion over illicit trades, clandestine operations, and the very pulse of criminal activity.

Yet, amidst the chaos and the conquests, there was one enigma that eluded Sukuna’s grasp: a woman whose allure ignited a fire within him. You, a mysterious beauty with a spirit as untamed as the flames dancing in the night. You moved with a grace that defied the chaos around you, a silent tempest in the midst of the storm.

From the moment Sukuna laid eyes on you, he knew you were unlike any other. You were not bound by the rules of his world, nor swayed by the promises of power and wealth. Instead, you remained an enigmatic force, unyielding and unattainable.

Driven by an insatiable desire, Sukuna sought to possess you, to unravel the mysteries that shrouded your existence. He offered you riches beyond measure, a throne by his side where you could rule the underworld together. Yet, each offer was met with a gentle refusal, as you remained steadfast in your independence.

Frustration festered within Sukuna's heart, a tempest of emotions that threatened to consume him whole. He was a man accustomed to getting what he desired, yet you remained beyond his reach, a tantalizing mirage in the desert of his ambitions.

Despite his best efforts to suppress the yearning that gnawed at his soul, Sukuna found himself inexorably drawn to you, like a moth to the flame. He watched from the shadows as you moved through the city, a silent guardian cloaked in mystery.

In the depths of the night, when the city slumbered and dreams took flight, Sukuna found himself haunted by visions of your captivating gaze. You were the one anomaly in his meticulously crafted world, the one puzzle he could not solve.

And so, amidst the chaos and the conquests, Sukuna Ryomen, a formidable leader, found himself ensnared by the one thing he could not possess: the heart of a woman who danced beyond his reach, a forbidden desire that burned brighter than any flame in the darkness.

In the depths of his lavish office, Sukuna sat with unwavering determination, his gaze fixed on the phone before him. His frustration simmered beneath the surface, a molten rage that threatened to erupt at any moment. With a swift motion, he seized the device, his fingers dancing across the screen with a commanding presence.

"Where are you, piccola?" he typed, each word a declaration of his unwavering dominance. "You cannot hide from me forever. I will find you, and when I do, you will answer to me."

There was no room for hesitation in Sukuna's messages, no trace of the desperation that had once plagued him. Instead, his words dripped with authority, each message a demand for her submission.

"Do not test my patience" he continued, his tone brooking no defiance. "You belong to me, and you will come to me willingly. There is no escape from my grasp."

With each message sent, Sukuna's resolve hardened, his determination driving him forward with unrelenting force. He would not be denied what was rightfully his, not by anyone, especially not by a woman who dared to defy him.

"Tell me where you are," he commanded, "I will not ask again."

But still, there was no response, no sign of surrender. Anger flared within Sukuna's chest, a wildfire of fury that threatened to consume him whole.

"If you think you can hide from me, you are sorely mistaken," his words a warning laced with venom. "I will tear this world apart to find you, and when I do, you will regret ever crossing me, piccola."

With a final message sent, Viktor leaned back in his chair, his eyes burning with a fierce determination. He would not rest until you were in his grasp, until you bowed before him in submission. For in Sukuna Ryomen's world, there was no room for defiance, only dominance and control. And he would have it all, no matter the cost.

As Sukuna's fingers hovered over the screen, poised to send yet another commanding message, the door to his office swung open with a forceful creak. In strode one of his most trusted lieutenants, a figure cloaked in shadows and whispers, bearing news that ignited a spark of hope within Sukuna’s hardened heart.

"Boss," the subordinate – Toji – began, his voice low and deferential, "we've received word. She... she's in Miami."

The words hung heavy in the air, a tantalizing promise of victory amidst the tumultuous storm of Sukuna's emotions. Without a moment's hesitation, he rose from his seat, his movements swift and decisive.

"Prepare the jet," he commanded, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. "We leave immediately."

There was a sense of urgency in Sukuna’s tone, a hunger that burned brighter with each passing second. Miami beckoned like a siren's call, its neon-lit – ruby, blue and green, neon too – streets promising the chance to reclaim what was rightfully his.

As his subordinates scrambled to fulfill his orders, Sukuna's mind raced with thoughts of the woman who had eluded him for far too long. He could almost taste the sweet victory that lay within his grasp, the moment when you would finally bend to his will.

With a steely resolve and a heart set ablaze with determination, Sukuna embarked on his journey to Miami, a man possessed by a singular purpose: to capture the one who dared to defy him and to assert his dominance once and for all.

The sun hung low on the horizon, casting its golden rays upon the pristine sands of the Miami beach. Among the throngs of sun-seekers, Sukuna strode with purpose, his eyes scanning the shoreline with a predatory intensity. And there, amidst the azure waves and the gentle sway of palm trees, he spotted you.

You laid upon the sand, a vision of beauty that stole the breath from Sukuna's lungs. Clad in a bikini that left little to the imagination, you exuded an aura of confidence that only served to fuel his desire. Your bronzed skin glowed beneath the sun's warm embrace, your tousled hair cascading like silk upon the sand.

With measured steps, Sukuna approached, his gaze never wavering from the woman who had haunted his every thought. He stood before you now, a towering figure clad in shadows and sinew, his presence commanding the attention of all who dared to gaze upon him.

"Piccola," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "You cannot hide from me forever."

There was a flicker of defiance in your eyes, a spark that ignited the flames of desire within Sukuna's chest. But he would not be deterred, not by your beauty nor by your resolve. He had come too far, fought too hard, to let you slip through his fingers once again.

"You belong to me," he declared, his words laced with a possessiveness that bordered on obsession. "And now, you will come with me."

But you remained unmoved, your gaze steady as you met his with a defiance that stirred something primal within him. You were a challenge, a tantalizing puzzle that begged to be solved, and Sukuna was more than willing to rise to the occasion.

“I was working on my tan, boss.”

"Working on your tan," he repeated, his voice betraying none of the turmoil raging within him. "In Miami, of all places."

There was a subtle tension in the air, a silent battle of wills as you and Sukuna locked gazes. Your defiance sparked a flicker of admiration within him, even as it fueled the flames of his frustration.

"Indeed," you replied, your tone cool and composed. "Is there a problem with that?"

Sukuna's jaw clenched, a silent testament to the storm of emotions swirling beneath his stoic facade. He had come too far, searched too long, to be met with such casual indifference.

"No problem," he finally replied, his voice a low growl. "But I must insist that you accompany me. We have unfinished business, you and I."

Your lips curved into a sardonic smile, a glimmer of amusement dancing in your eyes. "I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific, boss. I have many businesses, all of them quite finished."

Sukuna's patience wore thin, his frustration bubbling to the surface like molten lava. He had pursued you across oceans and continents, faced down countless adversaries in his quest to claim you as his own. And yet, she remained as elusive as ever, a tantalizing enigma that refused to be solved.

"Enough games, piccola," he snapped, his tone cutting through the air like a knife. "You cannot hide from me forever. Sooner or later, you will bend to my will."

The tension crackled between you like electricity as Sukuna's hand shot out, seizing you by the throat with a force that bordered on violence. His grip was firm, unyielding, a silent declaration of dominance that sent a shiver down your spine.

For a heartbeat, time seemed to stand still as you stood locked in a primal embrace, your gazes locked in a fierce battle of wills. But beneath the surface, a different kind of energy simmered—a raw, unbridled desire that pulsed between you like a current of electricity.

Your breath came in ragged gasps as Sukuna's grip tightened, his fingers leaving imprints on your skin like branding marks. And yet, there was no fear in your eyes, only a smoldering heat that mirrored his own.

With a low growl, Sukuna leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear with a tantalizing promise. "You cannot resist me, piccola," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "You were made for me, and you know it."

A shudder ran through your body as you felt the heat of Sukunas breath against your skin, your pulse racing with a heady mixture of fear and excitement. You knew that you were as drawn to him as he was to you—a dangerous truth that sent a thrill coursing through your veins.

“You will always belong to me.”

#𓂃⊹ ִֶָ 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #sukuna #sukuna jjk #ryomen sukuna #ryoumen sukuna #jjk sukuna #jujutsu sukuna #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Bette Davis (All About Eve, Now Voyager, Jezebel)—She is a bitch and I like her so much. Also: unf. She does it all: rage, vulnerability, romantic passion, hauteur that invites beholders to say "step on me" under their breath. Her work in the 1930s, from melodramas to romantic comedies, is excellent, but I've mentioned 1940s films above because I feel that she really was at her best once the studio allowed her star image to get edgier. Also her decades-long platonic friendships with male co-stars (e.g. Paul Henreid, Claude Rains) are very important to me. Anyway: bow down before Bette Davis, HBIC.

Gloria Swanson (Don't Change Your Husband, Queen Kelly, Sadie Thompson, Sunset Boulevard)—the absolute BALLS this woman had! an icon of the 1920s, her career had simmered down, decent living in radio, deciding you know what? you know what i'll do? I'll star as the haggard old aging decrepit horror icon in Sunset Boulevard, that's what I'll do. Nobody else in Hollywood would take the part (every other actress didn't want to be framed as a has-been)—gloria said, fuck that, I'll eat this role alive and serve cunt the whole time. she was still so gorgeous when they made Sunset Boulevard they had to intentionally make her up/costume her to make her look older than she was. mad respect for the screen legend who says yeah, i am a screen legend, i was always that bitch and here I am again to prove it

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Bette Davis:

"The absolute GOAT of vintage cinema. An icon. Her EYES. Any time you see Bette on screen you know she's about to steal the spotlight. Her range is incredible, she can play coy, shy, mischevious, innocent, evil, hideous, beautiful, cunning, and wise all with the same self assurance and talent. I live in awe of her ability. And, of course, she's gorgeous. I think she peaked in 1950 with "All About Eve", at the age of 42- she was in full control of her craft, she's a milf, and her scratchy voice makes me nervous in a good way."

"She’s Bette fuckin’ Davis! She had a great sense of humor and a lovely pair of eyes! She was a camp icon and fuckin’ knew it. And she wasn’t afraid to make fun of herself!"

64.media.tumblr.com

"shes got a whole song of saying how hot someone is bc they look like her"

"She's got Bette Davis eyes! Incredible character actress, charming, witty as all hell. Her favourite accessory was a lit cigarette."

Gloria Swanson:

She was THE idea of a 1920s sex comedy star, and was a hot (and totally unhinged) older woman in Sunset Boulevard. Hot as a young woman and as an older woman? Yes plz

I feel like she would slay in alternative fashion

her performance as Norma Desmond in sunset boulevard makes me insane. I love her

#gloria swanson #bette davis #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 3 #Youtube

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Thirteen-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, SMUT, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Dirty Talk, Toxic Behaviour, Angst, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Jealousy, Possessive Behaviours, Emotional Manipulation, Begging, ThighRiding, Masturbation.

****FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

The moment you stepped into Mattheo's private dorm, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions churned within you. The room, drenched in shadows and dimly lit by a few strategically placed candles, seemed to echo his enigmatic personality. Deep emerald and silver tapestries adorned the walls, and the air was heavy with the scent of sandalwood, mingled with the faint aroma of whiskey, creating a heady atmosphere that hung like a thick fog.

Your anger simmered just below the surface as you practically shoved Mattheo off you, his arrogant figure slumping onto the edge of the opulent bed, running a battered hand through his messy hair as he stared at you. The room's opulence felt suffocating, practically a mirrored image of the turmoil roaring within you. Your eyes roamed the space, catching glimpses of Mattheo's life--scattered parchment filled with scribbled notes, half-empty potion vials, and a tangle of dark robes strewn carelessly on a chair.

You couldn't ignore the mounting frustration, the way his careless demeanor clashed with the chaos he had unleashed in your life.

"This," you seethed, running your hands through your hair as you fought to keep your voice steady, "this has to stop, all of this."

Mattheo met your gaze, his expression unreadable. The room seemed to shrink around you, suffocating you between its walls. Your anger crackled like electricity in the charged air, the weight of the night's events pressing on your chest like a crushing burden. You knew you should leave, escape the suffocating atmosphere of his room, but an inexplicable force held you in place, rooted to the spot. The battle within you raged on, torn between the allure of his dangerous world and the need to protect your own sanity.

"Here we go again," Mattheo mumbled, his voice carrying a tinge of exhaustion, collapsing back on his green duvet. "Give it to me, Raven. Get it all out."

"Can you please not be insufferable for five fucking minutes?" Your words sliced through the charged air, your frustration escalating with his casual dismissal of your anger. "Do you even understand what just happened? Your already suspicious brother just found me walking you back to your dorm on a Saturday fucking night while you pretended to be blackout..."

You took a determined step forward, your anger palpable, radiating off you like heat waves. "Oh, but wait, you wouldn't know that he was suspicious, because when I tried to tell you about it, you basically told me to shut the fuck up, among other things..." you let your words hang, heavy and loaded, hoping they would pierce through his indifference. "Your ignorance is going to ruin my life, Mattheo. I don't think you realize it...or maybe you do, and you just don't care."

"My brother doesn't know fuck all." Mattheo grumbled, his frustration evident as he brought both palms to his face, rubbing his eyes wearily. "And even if he did, what's he going to do? He has no proof."

You rolled your eyes, exasperation boiling within you. "He could still kick me out of the guild...could tarnish my reputation with Dumbledore...the possibilities are fucking endless, Mattheo. Didn't you see the way he was looking at me? Did you not hear what he said?"

"Yeah, I saw the way he was looking at you alright," he said, irritation lacing his words. "Fucking pri-"

"Enough, Mattheo," you spat, your voice cutting through the air as you stepped closer to him. "Stop acting like you own me, like I'm yours to protect, control, or possess. It's time to face the facts. This is becoming too much. We've both admitted that we can't stop thinking about each other...how can we continue this after that?"

"Same way we always have, Raven," Mattheo said, sitting up to meet your eyes, leaning back on his palms. "We have this conversation every week. One of us says we can't do this anymore, but then the cycle continues...you know you can't resist this..."

"Gods, Mattheo...even on my tiptoes I wouldn't be able to reach your fucking ego." You hissed, stepping closer again, your skin pricking with frustration. "And I love how you say that like I've ever had a choice...like you haven't already embedded yourself in my fucking soul..."

Mattheo's lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but he remained silent, his eyes searching yours for answers. The air between you crackled with tension, heavy with unspoken emotions. His usual confidence wavered, and for the first time, he seemed at a loss for words.

"I was fine with this until you took it too far, until you started making things complicated...the Tom thing has me sick..." you continued, your voice softening despite the anger that still lingered within you. "We're trapped in this vicious circle, Mattheo. Every time I try to pull away, you pull me back in, or vice versa...we're both tangled in this mess we've created, and I don't know how to break free..."

His expression remained unreadable, a mixture of frustration and helplessness flickering in his eyes. It was as if the reality of your words had finally caught up with him, forcing him to confront the depth of your entanglement. A heavy silence settled between you, Mattheo's gaze locked onto yours, his facade of indifference crumbling in the face of your honesty. He swallowed hard, his throat working visibly, but no words escaped his lips.

"Why?" you whispered, the weight of your words hanging in the tense space between you, crackling with unspoken emotion. You took a single step closer, your eyes searching his for a glimmer of understanding. "Why can't you admit that this needs to stop? That this can't continue?"

Mattheo blinked, his gaze flickering over your face, his lips parted, and his voice, tinged with uncertainty, left his throat in a hoarse whisper. "I...I don't know."

"You don't know?" you hissed, frustration bubbling within you. "You're willing to ruin my fucking life over an I don't know? Do you seriously hate me that much?"

As though a switch had been flipped, Mattheo stood, closing the distance between your bodies in a movement so forceful that you stumbled backward. His large palm found your arm, steadying you in place in front of him. His eyes, darker than the midnight sky, bored into you, filled with emotions you couldn't decipher.

"I don't hate you, Raven," he said, his voice firm, the intensity of his gaze paralyzing you.

Your heart stalled, your body near collapsing under the weight of his words. "You don't--"

"I never hated you," he repeated, his tone harsher this time, his grip on your arm tightening. "I couldn't fucking hate you even if I tried, and believe me, I have tried."

You were left speechless, entirely at a loss for words. The revelation shook you to your core. "You...but..."

"You make me fucking crazy, you make me feel like I'm always on the verge of losing control...and I don't lose control, Raven...not like this..." he growled, his voice a low, husky timbre that sent shivers down your spine.

Anger radiated off him, tangible and wild, as if it could set the room ablaze, surrounding your body with ease.

"You're a fucking mystery...everyone sees you as the school's brilliant little good girl, buried in books and academics...but underneath all that, you're so much more..." his free hand found your other arm, pulling you closer. "You're everything...you're honest, remarkably witty, and fuck, you have the sharpest snark that could keep any bloody asshat on their fucking toes..."

The intensity of his gaze softened for a fleeting moment, revealing a hint of vulnerability beneath the rage.

"You said I don't know half of the woman you are, but I do...I know all too fucking well, and part of me wished I didn't..." his voice was almost a whisper now, your heart hammering against your sternum like a frantic caged bird. "And that's only because you make it impossible to hate you."

"You're drunk..." your breath hitched, caught in the raw honesty of his words. The air seemed charged with tension, heavy with unspoken desires and regrets. "You don't mean any of this..."

Mattheo's jaw clenched, the tension in the room escalating with each passing moment. His grip on you tightened, the pressure sending a shiver down your spine. His chest rose and fell in shallow bursts, his internal turmoil mirrored in his intense gaze. It felt like his words were crashing against the walls of your mind, struggling to find a place to settle, leaving you in a state of emotional disarray. He averted his eyes, as if seeking refuge from the intensity of the moment, his silence speaking volumes, his thoughts a storm brewing behind his gaze.

"Raven...I..." his voice escaped him like a fragile whisper, hanging in the charged air between you. "I don't hate you...I hate Berkshire for fucking touching you...I hate my brother for trying to fucking get with you...I even hate Zabini because I overheard him telling Malfoy that he'd have your virginity in a fucking day if he tried..."

His words hung heavy in the room, a raw confession that left you speechless. Mattheo's eyes, usually steely and confident, now held a vulnerability you had never seen before. The truth of his emotions enveloped the space between you, suffocating yet strangely liberating. You found your voice, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

"I don't want you to hate anyone...you shouldn't hate anyone over a girl you can never fucking be with..." you said, your voice laced with a mix of frustration and resignation, the reality of your situation hanging heavy in the air. "Don't you see the problems here..."

Mattheo's throat bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes clouded with an emotion he refused to acknowledge. Slowly, he released his grip on you, his fingers trailing away reluctantly as he retreated towards the worn-out couch in the corner. With a flick of his wand, he cast a spell that enveloped the room, muffling any sound and concealing the scent of the illicit substances he was about to indulge in.

Sinking into the couch, he seemed to meld into the shadows, the dim light casting eerie shadows across his face. His hands moved with practiced ease, rolling a blunt with expert precision. The room filled with the acrid aroma of marijuana as he took a long, deliberate drag, the smoke swirling around him like a protective veil, momentarily shrouding his vulnerability.

"You're right," he said, exhaling slowly, the smoke curling around him like a shield. "I see the problems, Raven. I see them crystal fucking clear."

Your heart pounded forcefully, its rhythm echoing the turmoil within you. Mattheo's ease with the weed fascinated and disturbed you simultaneously. He inhaled the smoke effortlessly, hardly flinching at its burn, filling the room with a scent that made your head spin and your body loosen, momentarily dulling the ache that was roaring through your limbs. Your throat felt drier than cotton, aching with the need for moisture, as you released a long, shuddering sigh. You blinked, unable to tear your eyes away from him, taking a hesitant step closer.

"Why do you do that?" Your voice was a fragile whisper, laden with genuine curiosity. "Drink, smoke...it's like you're never sober."

Mattheo's eyes flickered with a mix of emotions, a guard descending over his features as he took another drag from the blunt. The smoke swirled around him like a protective shield, veiling his true sentiments.

"It's numbing, Raven," he said, his voice a low rasp, smoke curling around his words as he spoke. "Quiets the chaos for a little while." He paused, his eyes locking onto yours, a raw honesty flickering in their depths. "And it’s just a temporary fix...then I'm back to reality, back to wanting things I can't have."

Your pulse quickened; Gods, he was scarily vulnerable tonight. You'd never seen this side of him, and it left you utterly bewildered. Every word he uttered tugged at the strings of your empathy, threatening to unravel your carefully crafted resolve. You knew you had to put an end to this, had to sever the ties that bound you, but his vulnerability was like a persuasive melody, tempting you to stay, to comfort him, to succumb once more to the magnetic pull of his pretty words.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, you huffed, forcing a small, half smile. "Those pesky demons, huh..."

Mattheo's laughter rippled through the room, punctuated by the tendrils of smoke that swirled around him like spectral dancers.

"Yeah," he said, the bitterness in his voice cutting through the air, his tone dropping to a near-missable whisper. "Who would have known that the worst one would be disguised as a fuckin' sweet little angel..."

For the hundredth time in twenty minutes, you felt like your lungs had seized function, the air in the room growing heavy. The smoke from the blunt hung in the air, a haze of confusion and desire, intertwining with your senses. Your fingers trembled, desperate for the feeling of being buried inside his hair, craving the intimacy that only Mattheo could provide.

Unable to find the right words, you let your feet carry you closer to him, drawn like a moth to a flame. His eyes met yours, the intensity in the room building with each step, an unspoken understanding hanging in the air like a storm on the horizon. As you stopped roughly an arms length away from where he was seated, the room seemed to pulse with raw, unspoken desire, the tension between you reaching a breaking point, yet neither of you dared to move further. The world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you in a suspended moment, where everything seemed possible and yet infinitely complicated.

"Come here, Raven..." he murmured, putting the blunt out on the tray next to the couch. "Please."

The moment he'd uttered that word, the moment it had left his lips, your defiance crumbled, leaving your sanity in tatters. With timid steps, you approached him, and he drew you onto his lap. Your thighs straddled him, his battered hands finding firm a hold on your hips, the grip so tight it felt like it could crush bones. The intensity of his touch ignited flames on your flesh, just like it has done endless times before.

For a heartbeat, time seemed to stand still, your surroundings fading into insignificance. His touch became a lifeline, grounding you in the tumultuous sea of emotions. His lips barely moved as he uttered the words, each syllable laced with a heaviness that echoed the weight of your shared desires.

"One more night," he murmured, his voice a soft caress against the charged air. "Then that's it."

A reluctant agreement hung on your lips, the weight of reality pressing down on your shoulders like an unbearable burden. The ache of impending separation settled in your chest, and yet, you couldn't deny the magnetic pull that kept drawing you back into his arms, no matter the cost.

"One more night," you whispered, your voice barely audible, as if acknowledging the fleeting nature of your shared moments would make them more tangible, more real. "Then we're done."

A soft hand glided along your side, its roughened patches snagging slightly on the fibers of your cardigan. He traced the contours with a careful touch, his gaze drifting down to your chest, tracing the hidden curves beneath your attire. With a subtle pull at the hem, he met your eyes once more.

"Take this off..." he whispered, the desperation clear in his tone. "Take it all off."

Not needing a second prompt, your trembling fingers delicately worked on the buttons, skillfully releasing each one, your eyes never wavering from his intense gaze. His hands, possessing a gentle yet electrifying touch, traced a sensuous journey up your thighs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Every movement felt like a carefully orchestrated dance, a silent agreement between you two.

The sweater cascaded to the floor, a soft thud underscoring the charged atmosphere, before your hands moved to your blouse, the air thick with anticipation and desire. As soon as it was undone, Mattheo helped you shimmy it off and tossed it onto the growing pile on the floor. You shivered at the sudden cold air on your bare chest but the warmth from his body quickly enveloped you, heart stalling as he leaned into you, reaching behind your back to expertly undo your bra. After a moment, it too fell to the ground.

"Fuck..." he purred, darkened obsidian eyes fixed on your chest. "Look at you..."

His hand moved to your neck, his thumb tracing a path down your collarbone, before sliding over to one of your breasts. As he twisted and pinched your nipple, your head fell back with a moan, your body arching towards him, evoking a deep growl from his chest. Your hands moved to the hem of your skirt, ready to peel it off your body when he halted you, pulling your hands up to rest on his shoulders.

"That can stay on..." he murmured, voice hoarse with desire. "My sexy girl in her short little uniform skirt."

He leaned in to capture one of your breasts in his mouth, his tongue flicking over the sensitive skin and sending shivers of pleasure through your body. You moaned, sinking deeper into his lap as pleasure overtook you, shuddering as you felt the outline of his erection pressing against your needy centre.

"Take off your panties," he commanded gruffly, his hand moving to slip his fingers beneath the waistband of your skirt. "I want to feel you..."

You eagerly complied, shimmying out of your panties and tossing them aside. A moment of hesitation washed over you, a wave of shyness and vulnerability making you feel exposed. Your gaze faltered, tracing a path from his lips to his chest, a nervous lump forming in your throat. Despite the anxiety, your fingers found their resolve and moved to the buttons on his shirt, meeting his eyes once more as you began to slowly undo them.

"I want to feel you, too, Matty..." you murmured, your voice horse as he met your eyes. "Please..."

Without wasting a second more of time, Mattheo manoeuvred himself out of his shirt, tossing it to the pile on the floor before leaning back, allowing your eyes to roam his now bare chest. Your lungs stalled, your cunt clenching with need as your gaze trailed from his thick shoulders, adorned with a tapestry of scars, cuts, and bruises--down to his defined, sculpted abs.

Each mark seemed to carry a weighty narrative, a testament to his resilience and strength. Your eyes traced the lines and contours, your thoughts weaving a web of admiration and empathy. Mattheo's abs were sculpted with precision, each muscle defined and rippling beneath his skin. They formed a chiseled landscape, emphasizing his strength and dedication to physical fitness. The play of light and shadows in the room accentuated the contours, creating a captivating pattern that drew the eye. His abdomen, toned and firm, brought an unspeakable heat between your thighs.

Mattheo's gaze raked over your naked body, lips parted in exasperation, releasing a long breath before he shifted closer only a little bit, his eyes focused on your hips.

"Do you ever touch yourself?" he asked, his voice a husky whisper, slipping his hand toward your heat.

Your lungs stalled, taken aback by the question, but when his eyes met yours, you nodded, feeling a flush of embarrassment spread over your face.

"And do you think of me when you do it?" he continued, his thumb circling your clit and sending jolts of pleasure through you.

"Yes," you gasped, your hips moving involuntarily against his hand. "I do..."

Mattheo's eyes were intense, locked onto yours as he stimulated your body, jaw tensing as you ground against his crotch, fingers digging into the flesh on his shoulders as though it could anchor you to reality.

"Yeah?" He leaned in further, nibbling on your earlobe, slowing his pace on your clit, leaving you squirming against him. "You think of my hands? Touching you like this?..."

Your breath caught in your throat at his bold question, but there was no denying the raw desire coursing through your veins. You nodded, your voice barely a whisper.

"Yes, Mattheo..." you gasped as he sunk his teeth into your earlobe now, groaning as your fingers dug into his skin. "Your hands...your mouth...all of it..."

A wicked grin curved on his lips as he leaned back, his eyes locked with yours. "Show me," he murmured. "I want you to touch yourself for me...show me what you like...show me the effect I fucking have on you..."

Without giving you a chance to respond, Mattheo's strong hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer before he shifted you over so that you were straddling only one of his thick thighs, covered still by the fabric of his black trousers. You gasped as a jolt of arousal shot through you, and he leaned in close, hands finding purchase on your hips.

"Ride my thigh," he said roughly, his eyes dark with desire. "Show me how you'll take care of yourself since I won't be able to anymore..."

Your heart slammed your sternum, an unadulterated lust scorching your skin melding with an inexplicable hurt in your chest. Masking your pain, you pulled bottom lip between your teeth, slowly beginning to roll your hips against his thigh, gasping as you felt his muscles flex beneath you.

"Yeah, just like that, Raven..." Mattheo growled, aiding your hips in moving, gripping them tightly with his strong hands and pressing you down firmly against him. "Fuck, you're so wet...that's all for me, isn't it?"

He watched you intently, his gaze focused on every move you made, and as you rubbed yourself against his leg, his eyes turning darker with desire.

"Yes, Matty..." you moaned, breath torn with overwhelming pleasure. "All-fuck-all for you..."

His abs flexed as you moved against him, rippling beneath his skin with each thrust. You could feel the heat radiating from his body and smell the scent of his musk, making you wild with need for him. Your fingers moved to your clit, rubbing fast circles around it as you felt the pleasure rolling through you. You whimpered softly, the heat building into a slow burn as the sensations grew more intense. You spread your legs wider, pressing down on Mattheo's thigh with increasing pressure as you moved faster.

Mattheo watched in rapt attention, his gaze fixed on your fingers as they played with your clit. His own body was tense with desire, and you could feel the heat radiating from him, singlehandedly spurring you on.As you continued to grind against his thigh, you could feel the pleasure building to an almost unbearable crescendo. Every movement, every touch of your fingers, every flex of Mattheo's muscles was driving you toward the edge of ecstasy.

"Fucking hell, Raven..." he groaned through barred teeth. His gaze was fixed on you, intense and hungry, like a predator stalking its prey. "You're making me so fucking hard..."

His body was a wonderland beneath you: hard and smooth, with rippling abs and strong thighs that tensed and relaxed as you worked yourself against him.

"Shit..." you mewled, spurred on by his words, his eyes, his hands, everything about him. "You wish I was doing this on your cock, don't you, Matty..."

The sensations were overwhelming: the friction of your slickness against his leg, the feel of his hands on your hips, the sound of your breathing growing ragged and uneven as you drew closer to orgasm. You pressed down harder, panting with need as you felt the waves of pleasure crashing over you. Mattheo's eyes never left you, drinking in every detail of your movements, savouring the sight of your flushed skin, your lips parted in ecstasy, and the way your body quivered with desire.

"Fuck, yes, baby..." his pupils dilated with a mix of satisfaction and hunger, feeding off your pleasure as though it were his own. "I would fuck you so fucking good...I'd make you cum on my cock so many times you'd lose count..."

"Oh...shit..." His abs flexed noticeably with each grind of your hips, the defined muscles contorting beneath his smooth, pale skin. You could feel the power and strength beneath your fingertips as you reached out to touch his sculpted abdomen, tracing the lines and feeling the firmness beneath your touch. "I wish you fucking would..."

The sensation of your fingers sliding against your clit sent electric sparks of pleasure coursing through your entire body. The strokes became faster, more urgent, driving you closer to the edge. Every nerve ending was alight with desire, amplifying every sensation, every breathless moan that escaped your lips.

"Don't fucking say that right now, Raven..." his hands gripped your hips tighter, pulling you against him with even more force. "I'm barely fucking holding on...one more word like that and I'd flip you over so fucking fast..."

Your eyes rolled, your lungs sputtering, his words filling your veins with magma. "Fuck, Mattheo..."

As he watched you, he began to grind his own groin against your thigh, adding to the sensations that were already pushing you toward orgasm.

"God you're so fucking hot," he murmured, his voice low and breathless. "I'll be thinking about this every time I jerk off...fuck, you're just the dirtiest little thing Raven..."

You could feel the muscles beneath your skin tensing, ready to explode with pleasure. Every touch from Mattheo was like fire on your skin, every sound he made was like fuel to your already raging inferno. You could hear his breath quickening as well, matching the rapid pace of your own.

His grip on your hips tightened, his voice tight as he fought through a groan. "You're close aren't you, princess?"

"Yes," you moaned, head falling back, fingers increasing their pace on your clit. "I'm so close, Matty..."

"Fuck," his breathing was ragged as he ground his groin against your thigh. "Beg for me, bitch...beg to cum all over my thigh like the good little slut I know are."

The words sent a thrill through your body, stoking the fire that was already burning within you. You met his gaze with wide, pleading eyes, your orgasm on the very edge of rattling through you.

"Please, Matty..." you whispered, the desperation clear in your tone. "Please let me cum...please let me cum for you..."

"Mm." Mattheo's fingers dug into your skin as he ground his groin against your thigh, his movements growing more urgent as he sensed your climax building. "That's it, let go for me baby..."

Your whole body tensed as you felt your orgasm approaching, like a wave rising inside you. Mattheo's leg was slick with your arousal, and the thought of covering him completely sent you over the edge. You cried out, your voice raw with pleasure, as the first tidal wave of your orgasm hit you like a fucking train. Your whole body shook as you rode out the waves of pleasure, your hips bucking against Mattheo's leg. He held you close the entire time, his hands gripping you tightly as you convulsed in ecstasy.

Your breath came in short pants as you slowly came back to yourself, your head resting against his chest. Mattheo let you catch your breath for a few moments, his own breathing still ragged as he held you close. Finally, he leaned back to look into your eyes, his hand cupping your cheek.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, admiration clear in his voice. "Absolutely fucking filthy...but beautiful...so beautiful..."

Your heart swelled with affection for him, and you leaned in to kiss him without even really thinking twice about it, his lips were hot and insistent against yours, his tongue tangling with yours in a heated dance. His hands roamed over your body, tracing every curve and dip with hungry fingers. You could feel the fire starting to build within you again, the memory of his touch sending shivers down your spine, his insistent erection pressing against your thigh, your fingers crawling down his chest before softly grazing over it.

"Let me take care of you now," you whispered, your words a gentle caress against his lips, acutely aware of the rapid beat of his heart beneath your touch. "Last chance, Matty..."

"No." His response was unwavering, his grip firm yet tender as he pulled you closer, repositioning both of you so you lay lengthwise on the couch. His body enveloped yours, offering a comforting embrace, while his fingers traced a soothing path, brushing your hair away from your face. "You've done more than enough for me."

Your mind reeled with disbelief, completely taken aback by the intimacy of the moment. Your body tensed involuntarily as you found yourself pressed against the warmth of his chest, small beads of sweat glistening off his skin. Inhaling sharply, you caught a scent that mingled with his natural aroma, a hint of weed still lingering in the air. As you exhaled, a sense of surrender washed over you, your eyelids growing heavy with drowsiness as you eventually drifted off without even realizing it.

—————-

Here’s chapter fourteen->

#harry potter #mattheosmut #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #marcus lopez smut #marcuslopez #mattheoriddle #mattheo smut #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle #mattriddlesmut #mattheo #mattheo x y/n #draco malfoy smut #benjamin wadsworth #theo riddle #riddlesmut #riddle smut #tom riddle smut #riddle #theoriddlesmut #theodorenottsmut #theodore smut #theo nott x reader #theo nott smut #mattheoriddlesmut #severus snape #draco malfoy #tomriddle smut #tomriddlesmut

[bluejeanstrash]

vampires pt. 3 | pt. 2 | pt. 1

tags: 2.2k, vampire! seungcheol x human reader, 18+, mdni, dubcon, rough sex, toxic codependency, emotionally volatile seungcheol, degradation (verbal and physical)

weeks, maybe even a month had passed since you’d last seen seungcheol. you couldn’t tell — time didn’t really exist within the walls of the castle. though gone, his absence was everywhere. it was an absence that made your guilt grow day by day — the weight of which was now suffocating you. what if he’d found another? he hadn’t even called for you once.

the first time seungcheol had ‘called for you’, you thought he was going to kill you. vampires never met with humans alone. they would use the slaves in groups or out in public but seungcheol wanted to see you privately. maybe since he was the one who captured you and brought you here, he felt he had the right to have you all to himself.

since that night he would call for you occasionally, fucking you alone, and until he was satisfied. but that had all stopped. until today. you’d been summoned at midnight, your mind a complete mess throughout the day. you’re not sure why you feel so anxious — you haven’t even done anything wrong. 

when it came to these nights, seungcheol had three simple rules:

one, you would be freshly bathed. he wanted you to be washed off traces of anyone else — coming to him pure, untouched. 

two, your hair would be tied in a single braid — neat, out of your face.

and third, you would be dressed in a modest white nightgown with nothing underneath, giving him easy access to you.

he was very particular. he liked things pretty, even during his kills. he would bring his prey back to the castle, groom them, and then when they were perfect, he would ruin them. much like when a beautifully plated dish adds to its flavour.

the others were different — jeonghan preferred his prey to be scared, fear coursing through their veins tasted the best; joshua toyed with his food before he killed them, giving them hope they could escape before dragging them back; mingyu was impatient, devouring them too soon and regretting it after; and wonwoo was calm, until the bloodlust would hit him. his frenzied kills were a complete terror.

it’s midnight now as you stand infront of the door, frozen. you look down at the intricate door handle, running you fingers over the grooves to calm yourself down, and after taking a deep breath, you knock.

‘enter’ seungcheol’s voice makes your heart race. it’s been so long since you’ve heard it. you walk into the dimly lit room, the hue from the candles casting a warm glow over everything. as custom, you kneel in front of the fireplace, waiting with your head lowered. the room where you would meet was gorgeous albeit ostentatious. the ornate double doors opened to an opulently decorated room. to the right was a small longue area in front of a fireplace which was never lit; opposite it was a four-poster bed and adjacent to both was a writing desk, placed directly in front of the huge stained glass windows. 

as you wait, you can feel seungcheol’s eyes on you, studying you intently from head to toe. you can hear his nails scrape the wooden desk, continuing to stare like he’s trying to find something wrong with you. but you look perfect. still, seungcheol feels a simmering rage within him.

he’d been furious ever since that day. how could you choose someone else? you were first and foremost, his, and for you to pick wonwoo was an insult he couldn’t allow. he’d thought after all this time he would feel differently, but he doesn’t. it was a mistake calling you here.

‘leave’ he dismisses you coldly but to his surprise, and annoyance, you don’t move. it’s foolish to defy him but you need to do something.

‘don't make me repeat myself’

‘master-’ 

‘get. out.’

‘master, please, i’m sorry’ you don’t know what else to say. you flinch at the sound of his chair being pushed back savagely. his steps are heavy and heated as he walks over, standing in front of you.

‘look at me’ you look up, meeting his eyes for the first time, feeling your cunt quiver.

‘you’re sorry? what exactly are you sorry for?’ he questions, finding it incredulous that you have the nerve to disobey him. 

‘i’m s-sorry if i upset you’ seungcheol scoffs, circling behind you. he paces quietly, back and forth, as the seconds pass in complete silence, and then you feel a searing sting. hot liquid hits your skin, making you cry out in pain. ‘you think you, a human, have the power to upset me?’ his voice is dripping with disdain.

he holds the candle above you, letting the burning wax drip onto your supple skin, watching how it rolls down and hardens on contact.

‘master, t-that hurts’ you stutter. seungcheol didn’t get off on your pain, so why was he making you feel it? he suddenly snakes his hand around your throat, pulling you up ‘exactly. it hurts and you don’t have the power to do anything’

‘you don’t have any power’ he reminds you ‘you’re just a weak, pathetic human’ his grip tightens like a noose, fingers digging dangerously deep into your skin.

you gasp as he squeezes tight before releasing you. ‘so helpless’ he mutters, his heavy breath caressing the bare skin of your shoulder, and all of a sudden he lifts your dress up and bends you over. being this close to you after weeks apart, seungcheol can’t control himself. he unzips his pants, pulling out his throbbing cock, and enters you — your cunt that's already sopping wet for him.

it's embarrassing how easily he slips in, your arousal coating his cock instantly. he laughs ‘i haven't even touched you yet and you're dripping wet? pathetic’ despite his words, he loves it. he needs more.

‘stand up’ he orders, his hand back around your throat as he pulls you closer, your back arching off him. he pushes into you completely, your warm cunt gripping him tight and starts thrusting. seungcheol groans, his gaze suddenly fixated on your elongated neck — your skin is taut and tender — it’s perfect. you feel his fangs graze against your stretched neck before he bites, his sharp teeth puncturing your skin as two lines of blood trickle down your neck. you should be scared, you should. so why does it feel almost erotic?

seungcheol drinks from you, your blood seeping into the cracks of his hungry lips as his thrusts hit deeper, his cock throbbing inside you so rapidly. ‘fuck...i need more’ he breathes, teeth sinking in again. seungcheol has always been able control himself, never letting his bloodlust take over, but you taste so sweet, it takes all his will to pull away. he realises this is his privilege, only his, something no one else would be ever be allowed to do — drink from his prey for pleasure. 

though he’s taken from you, it feels like he’s injected something far deeper into your veins. you feel bound to him. his presence is heightened — how good he feels inside you; stretching you open, filling you up. you can’t help but want more.

‘master, can i touch myself? please, you’re making me feel so good’ you beg.

he allows; your fingers on your cunt immediately, stimulating your clit.

‘y-yes’ you whine, needy little sounds spilling out with it ‘yes master…use me’ suddenly, he stops thrusting, keeping his hard cock inside you and asks,

‘who do you want to fuck the most hmmn? whose cock do you crave in your slave cunt?’ seungcheol growls, bringing back the very question that upset him, but this time he excepts the right answer.

‘y-yours master, i want you the most. i love getting fucked by my master’s cock’ he lets out a gruff moan at your words, pulling out and turning you around to face him. 

there’s a flicker of uncontrolled lust in his eyes ‘what did you just say?’ you repeat your words to him but seungcheol’s stuck on just the two. my master — him belonging to you and you to him. he grabs you by the throat, squeezing lightly ‘what are you doing to me?’ he mutters, feeling painfully possessive of the idea. but then the memory of you spread open, pushing wonwoo’s cum inside you returns. you gasp as his grip tightens.

‘how did it feel, hmm? pushing wonwoo’s cum inside you? you didn’t look like you wanted to get fucked by me, you looked like a dirty fucking whore’ seungcheol’s eyes go dark. for the first time tonight you’re scared, desperate not to upset him further.

‘tell me’ 

‘i felt nothing master’ you lie ‘i imagined it was yours. i wanted your cum on my fingers…i only want your cum inside me’ seungcheol inhales sharply, high on your words. ‘take off your dress’ he commands as you pull it off quickly. he unbuttons his shirt, almost ripping it off and in a single breath grabs your waist and lifts you, your legs wrapping around his waist and arms draped around his neck. his cold skin is pressed to your warmth as he carries you across the room, pushing you up against the stained glass windows.

it’s much too intimate a position to be in with you but he doesn’t care; he wants you. he enters you slowly, filling you up with a deep sensual stroke. you whimper, feeling all of him inside you.

‘master..please fuck me’ and he does. seungcheol fucks you passionate, making sure every thrust touches your deepest parts, addicted to the soft mewls spilling out of you. he keeps his eyes locked on yours like he’s searching for something in them. you can see they’ve turned a deep crimson in the moonlight — the dreamy moonlight that’s hitting his pale, almost translucent skin so beautifully, his jet black hair and blood stained lips in striking contrast to it. you’re suddenly taken by his beauty, feeling overwhelmed. so you drop your gaze, unable to keep his.

‘no’ he commands ‘you will look at me while i fuck you’ he picks up the pace, thrusting harder.

‘you’re mine’ he breathes ‘you’re mine before anyone else’s. understood?’

he buries his face in your neck, his lips finding where he’d drank from earlier and starts sucking on that spot hungrily. your taste…he can’t stop craving it. as soon as he gets a little taste his thrusts turn animalistic, eyebrows pulled tight as he pounds into you, balls slapping against your cunt. you gasp, tilting your head back, giving him more access. ‘fuck’ his cock twitches inside you.

seeing you offer your body to him like this was intoxicating. ‘look at me’ he moans, his eyes back on yours. then for the very first time, he kisses you. his kisses are hard and messy, matching his thrusts. he pushes his tongue into your mouth, finding yours as your kisses deepen. you need him now and so you beg,

‘master, bury your seed inside me. p-please, i haven’t felt you in so long’ it’s sick honestly — your desperate words and the immediate effect they have on him. seungcheol’s pushed to the brink of orgasm, and for a split second, he feels himself losing all control. taking your life, draining you of your sweet nectar as he cums inside you would be euphoric beyond belief, but he just can’t bring himself to do it. instead, he says,

‘cum with me’ the words coming out of his mouth are unthinkable.

‘you’re going to cum with me’ it’s an order now, and you let yourself feel the pleasure that’s been building. his lips are back on yours, kissing you with untamed desire. ‘m-master, i’m going to cum’ you whine, clamping around his pulsating cock and feeling it take over you — it’s primal the way this pleasure feels. you press yourself against him and moan ‘master, make me yours’ 

‘f-fuck’ he curses, fucking you against the window so violently as he cums, shooting his seed inside you while you’re still consumed by your high. seungcheol groans and just keeps going, pushing all his cum deeper and deeper inside as if he’s trying to breed you.

‘thank you master..’ you breathe as his pace slackens, his final thrusts slow. there’s a stillness that sets in as his cock slips out of you, your legs unwrapping around him to find the floor. you’re suddenly aware of how eerily silent the castle is tonight. did anyone else hear? it feels too intimate a moment to share. or that's what you think. seungcheol steps away from you, a sudden coldness coming off him.

‘you may leave’ his words are firm.

the overwhelming high from the sex comes crashing down in an instant and those useless human emotions that wonwoo loves so much take over; you feel humiliated, you feel jilted, you feel used. and then you feel tears start to form, your vision blurring. you can't let him see you like this. you drop your gaze and start to walk away, your steps slow in hopes he’ll stop you. but why would he? only lovers stay the night, slaves are sent their way. 

seungcheol watches you get dressed, suppressing the urge to pull you back to him. he can’t be attached to a human, that isn’t how it works. humans are disposable, meant to fuck and feast on. he can’t. you turn around and bow, catching his eye for a second and quickly look away. the door creaks open as he watches you leave. you feel like a mess as the door shuts softly, and behind it, so does he. 

#not proofread 🫡 #seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #seungcheol smut #scoups smut #seungcheol au #scoups au #svt x vampires #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #vampire seventeen #seventeen au #svt x reader

[overseer-picard]

I have to talk about "I, Borg" for a moment. I get so exasperated by people saying Picard was stupid or weak for not using Hugh to cause genocide. I get it, Hollywood neural rot tells us we should always kill the bad guys but... come on, watch the episode with your brain wrinkles open.

Picard was chomping at the bit to use Hugh to infect the Borg, his staff were the ones telling him to slow down and think about things but he turned a deliberate blind eye to them for most of the episode. It was deeply out of character for him, but his actions were underpinned with a simmering rage that made it all make sense (especially considering he had been assimilated just two years prior).

He lashes out at Guinan, "It's not a person, damn it, it's a Borg!", he tells Geordi to "unattach himself" from the "lab animal", and he even makes Beverly do a double take when she says "You're making it sound like a virus." and he says, his eyes colder than we've ever seen, "And if all goes well, a terminal one."

(Cold Eye Picard ^ very scary, do not approach. He even gives a flicker of a sadistic smile here, which might be the only time in the whole series we see that.)

But my main point is that Picard wanted to go through with the plan more than anyone else on the ship. So much so that the lust for revenge was splitting him open at the seams and making him abandon his core morals. Even Guinan, whose entire world was destroyed by the Borg, tells him he needs to calm down and reconsider.

And that moment towards the end, the climax of the episode, when Picard is tapping into Hugh's recognition of Locutus, trying to do a hail mary to prove that this is still nothing but a mindless drone, and Hugh says "No, I am Hugh". BAM. Picard's entire demeanor shifts as he realizes there's no way he can murder this innocent individual.

And this moment-

-as Picard is saying goodbye to Hugh, you see his smile fall and doubt pull at him. Perhaps he's questioning if he did the right thing, or maybe wondering just how furious Command will be with him, but either way, it's a poignant moment that completes his arc because he was true to his moral center, and that is true to his character.

In my opinion, if Picard had chosen to push through with the plan, to kill Hugh and the possible (there was a chance it wouldn't work) millions of other Borg drones who were just as innocent and capable of rescue and rehabilitation as Hugh (and himself), it would've been a failing of writing and too far removed from Picard's character to be believable.

It's an incredible episode, and Patrick Stewart's performance is astoundingly nuanced, so it drives me a little crazy when people completely miss the entire point. If I wanted an action based thriller about the Good Guys coming up with cool ways of killing evil space zombies, I wouldn't be watching Star Trek.

^ the face of character growth

#star trek the next generation #jean luc picard #i borg #episode analysis