#never Not losing my mind over. all of this

[mostly-imagines]

Guard Dog vol. II

jason todd x fem!reader

aka don’t fuck with jason’s gf pt. II

3 in 1 blurbs

warnings: mild standard gotham violence, in the 3rd section: attempted sexual assault and panicky thoughts afterwards from reader

“Sweetheart, this is…not good.”

You turn your head over to him, where he’s frowning, hands on his hips as he inspects your bedroom window.

You tilt your head, looking it over from your place on the couch. “What’s wrong with it?”

He sighs, “Well for one, the lock is broken. But even if it weren’t, this thing would be so easy to break.”

“It’s the lock the place came with.” You shrug. At least it has a lock. In Gotham that’s kind of asking a lot.

“Yeah, I can tell.” He frowns at the window once again, moving over to stand behind the couch. “I’m getting you better locks.” He looks to you, “I can install them tomorrow?”

You tilt your head up to look at him, “You don’t need to get me new locks, Jay…”

“Okay.” He kisses your head, “I’m getting them.”

You sigh in defeat, though your smile makes it lose its credibility. “Tomorrow’s fine. I assume you’re staying the night, then?”

He makes his way to the kitchen as he says, “Well, I’m not leaving you alone here with this piece of shit the only thing between you and Gotham.”

“I’ve lived here for two years.” You say flatly.

“Don’t remind me.” He mumbles as he moves behind the counter. “Actually, your door chain’s broken too, isn’t it?” It is, but that’s his own fault.

You had a long day a couple weeks ago and had a very long, very hot shower the second you got home. Unfortunately, it had slipped your mind to text him that you were home safe and he’d broken through the chain in one try to make sure you were okay.

You hum, “It wasn’t doing much anyways.” Clearly.

He grimaces as he heats up the stove for dinner.

You laugh lightly, “What?”

He looks back at you with a frankly adorable frown, “I don’t like that.”

You’d never thought much of it. You hadn’t had any—well, many—problems living here before, and you still had your deadbolt and handle lock.

“It’s okay. I’m safe here.”

He looks like he strongly disagrees. He comes back over, sitting next to you, taking your face in his hands. “Will you please let me set up some security measures around here?”

“Did Jason Todd just say please?” You say in faux-shock.

He rolls his eyes at you, “I’m serious.”

You sigh, contemplatively. “I don’t want my apartment looking like the Home Alone set.”

He laughs at that, “It’s not going to. You won’t even notice most of them. Just do it for me, please?”

“I’ll agree, but only because I know you’re going to do it anyways and I’d like to pretend I have control over this.” That’s not true, you’d agree to literally anything if he said please that sweetly again, but that’s your business.

“Fair enough.” He smiles, kissing your cheek.

No, it’s not fair at all.

It’s late. You’re not even sure how late but the city has calmed from its usual noises, indicating that your boyfriend will be home soon.

You’re coming up heavy on cramps tonight and according to the mockingly empty spot in your medicine cabinet, you’re out of ibuprofen. Yeah, it’s late, but the store on the corner is a three minute walk and fuck your stomach hurts. Jason wouldn’t like it if you went out without telling him though, so maybe you should wait until—

The sound of the living room window sliding open breaks you away from your thoughts, followed by a clatter of something hitting the ground.

You walk back into the dimly lit room, finding your boyfriend sliding the window shut again, holsters abandoned on the ground. He turns and collapses onto the couch face first, body immediately gone limp.

“Hey, baby.” You bite back a laugh, coming over to rub his muscled back from behind the couch. He groans into the cushion in response. “Why don’t you go get in bed?”

He hums almost imperceptibly, sitting up and rubbing his eyes roughly with his palms.

He stands and takes your hand in his as he passes by, tugging you towards the bedroom. The deep ache in your abdomen reminds you of your earlier train of thought. You pull your hand back, stopping in your tracks.

He turns back to you with a frown, wanting to know what could possibly be getting in his way of falling asleep, holding you close.

“I gotta go pick up some ibuprofen. I’ll be right back.” You say quietly, not wanting to disturb the quietness of the night for him. His frown deepens as you head towards the door, watching you.

You’ve got your purse in hand and are reaching for the handle when you hear his footsteps following in suit. “Hey, it’s okay. Stay here, I’m just going to the 24 hour store on the corner.”

He shakes his head, “You’re not going out in Gotham alone at two in the morning. Put your coat on, it’s cold.”

You do as you’re told, shrugging the coat on as you glance over at him. “Jason, it’s okay. You’re exhausted, go to sleep.”

He ignores you, throwing a sweatshirt on to cover up his armor, and follows you out the door; albeit far more sluggish than usual.

He was right though, the night air is bitter and slaps your face with every step forward you take. He lingers a few steps behind you, honest to god almost falling asleep mid step a couple times.

Frankly, you’re not even sure what kind of fight he’d be able to put up in this state. Though, he’s surprised you plenty of times before. In any case, his head snaps up every time there’s any sign of movement around, instantly on alert.

He trails behind you as you browse through the narrow aisles, hands stuffed in his sweatshirt.

As you’re standing at the store counter paying, his neck is craned forward, resting on your shoulder. You rub soothing circles into his hand with your thumb, though you’re sure it’s not doing anything to help his exhaustion.

You’re walking back home, the bite of the air a bit more forgiving in this direction. There’s another man walking down the sidewalk approaching, hands in pocket.

Jason’s too tired to bother with subtlety, glaring directly at the passerby before he could even think of trying anything. And it works, because the guy averts his gaze real quick and speeds up past you.

He continues working at his post from just behind you all the way until you’re back inside your apartment.

He takes the medicine container out of his pocket and cracks it open for you, wordlessly filling up a glass of water after. You gulp down a couple of the pills, and he takes the glass and bottle out of your hand the second you’re done, setting them on the counter.

He turns to you, eyes barely open, mumbling, “Can we sleep now?”

You smile at his fatigued state and take his hand, leading him to the bedroom.

Your neighbor likes you. You know it, Jason knows it.

The worst he’d done was flirt with you, badly, and shut his mouth real quick whenever your boyfriend emerged from your apartment.

And Jason let that go; he knows better than anybody that you’re heavenly and sweet and clever, of course this fucking guy likes you. Jason set an unspoken rule with himself, that he won’t get violent with any guys unless they put their hands on you. Something he knows for absolute fact your neighbor has not done.

At least he hadn’t until a couple of hours ago. You’d been in the hallway at the mailslots, your boyfriend nowhere in sight, when he decided it was the perfect time to make a move. Make several moves, actually.

You’re sitting on the couch, knees to chest, still trying to wrap your mind wround what had happened when Jason sees you. You stopped crying a while ago and you’ve entered the phase well.

Your hear keys jingling outside the door, followed by your boyfriend's entrance. He’s carrying some grocery bags and has a book tucked under his chin.

He lets the bags slide off his arms, and sets the book on the counter with them, beaming, “You’re never gonna guess what b—“ His smile drops when he sees you. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, “Nothing.” But your blinking feels off all of a sudden, and you can’t remember what you usually do with your face when you’re not lying. It doesn’t matter though, you could be an academy award winning actress and you’re still sure Jason would be able to see right through you with a single glance.

He frowns, “Don’t lie to me.” He moves towards you, kneeling down in front of you. “Please. What’s wrong?” His eyes are pleading now, already worried.

You don’t want him to worry about this. He already worries about you too much and he’d got all his vigilante stuff and…you just want to believe that this is a manageable situation and not a problem. Not something that affected you.

“It’s just…it’s not a big deal, okay? I can handle it—”

His posture stiffens and his voice suddenly goes low and serious, “What happened?”

You know where this is going. “Jason. Promise me you won’t do anything.”

His brow furrows, and his frown turns to something closer to anger. “Did someone put their hands on you? Who?”

“Jason—”

“Who did it?”

“The neighbor, b—” he immediately snaps to a stand and starts towards the door. You hurry to grab onto his hand before he can escape your proximity, “Jason. Please don’t.”

The pleading in your voice is enough to make his rage falter and turn back around to face you.

“Baby, if he touched you—” His eyes are pleading, begging you to let him go take care of this. If not for you then for him.

“It wasn’t—he didn’t do anything. He didn’t get to. I hit him and he backed off.” Which is…sort of true.

He stares at you. “In the hallway?”

You blink. “…Yeah?”

He takes off towards the bedroom wordlessly. You follow quickly on his tail, watching him sit on the edge of your bed, opening his computer and clicking through it quickly.

You slide over next to him, and see that he's pulling up a file under the name of your building and today’s date. It takes you two seconds too long to realize what he’s doing, the thought only sinking in right as you see the hallway security camera footage on the screen.

“Jason—” you try to close the computer but he bats your hand away.

He forwards through the footage, as you scramble trying and failing to reach past him, various building occupants coming in and out of frame rapidly.

“—please just listen to me.” But he did listen to you, and he heard that someone tried to hurt you. That was all he needed to hear.

He stops when he sees you enter the frame, watching closely. He sees you flipping through the mail. He sees your neighbor slither out of his apartment and stand far too close to you. You take a step back only to be met with two steps forward by him. He says something to you, probably asking where your boyfriend is.

The angle doesn’t show his face, but it does see yours, and you look incredibly uncomfortable. You don’t answer him, which evidently was enough of an answer in itself.

Your neighbor tries to brush some of your hair out of your face but you snap your head away, stumbling back a little. He uses your lack of balance as an “excuse” to grab onto your waist, pulling you close to him.

Your hands are out in front of you and you’re shaking your head as he pushes towards you. His lips land on your neck and you try to move backwards, but he grabs your wrists and holds you in place.

You fight against his grip, and upon realizing that your struggling doesn’t matter to him at all, you dig your nails into his wrists so hard you draw blood. He groans in pain and his grip on you loosens.

You snap your hands away and push yourself away, locking yourself in your apartment. Your neighbor lingers for a moment, shouting something at the door before trudging back into his apartment and slamming the door.

Jason snaps the laptop shut, coming to a stand once again. His fists clinch at his sides. “That was not nothing.”

No, it wasn’t. But you feel so helpless right now. You sure as hell felt it in the hallway, and it keeps lingering in you and you’re not sure why. You couldn’t do anything then, you can’t do anything now…it feels like all the bad things in the world are closing in on you and you just have to let it happen.

“I…I don’t want anyone to die because of me…” your words aren’t quite matching your thoughts, but this is the closest you can get right now.

He pulls back to look at you, brows furrowed. “It’s—it’s not because of you. It’s because of him. Baby, if I were on patrol and saw him touch some other girl like that I’d do the same thing.”

You know that. You know that. But communication seems impossible right now but it’s the only tool you have to stop things from closing in.

“No, I know that. I know…it’s just…” Things are closing in anyways. Alright, this is happening now. Your eyes start watering and your voice trembles.

“Fuck, baby.” His hand flies to the back of your head, other arm wrapping around your middle, pulling you to him.

You feel a bit silly, crying over the potential death of someone who tried to hurt you, in front of the Red Hood of all people.

“I’m sorry, I—I don’t know. It’s—it’s too many bad things. I can’t…”

“Okay. Okay. It’s okay. I’ll stay here. I’m staying here with you, okay?” You nod into his chest, tears dampening his shirt.

This is a temporary solution, you know that even now. But you think once it expires, it might be easier to accept whatever Jason’s going to do later.

He’s quiet for a few minutes, holding you in his arms as you sway back and forth lightly.

“Will you forgive me if I kill him?” He whispers into your hair.

You roll your eyes but smile nonetheless. “Don’t.”

“Is that a yes?”

You pull back to look him in the eyes, face setting. “I’m getting the feeling you’re going to do something regardless of how this conversation ends.” He says nothing. “Just, please, don’t kill him.”

He holds you tighter and you do the same, laying your head against his chest again. You feel him press a kiss to your head as he takes a deep breath.

You think on it for a moment, figuring it needs saying. “And don’t get in trouble.”

Your neighbor comes home late that night, trudging through the front door with a perpetual frown. He opens the door to his notably unlocked apartment. He drops his bag on the ground with a thump and flicks on the lamp next to the door. He shuts the door and turns the lock when the red elephant in the room pipes up.

“Hey, bud.”

He jumps, spinning around, “Who the fuck—oh, shit.” He freezes the second he sees him, sitting in the armchair across the room. The Red Hood nods, loading the gun in his hand.

Your neighbor stutters, “What—what are you doing here?”

He looks up at him, cocking the gun. “You put your hands on your neighbor, yeah?”

He looks fake-shocked at the accusation. “What? No, I would ne—which neighbor?”

He can’t see it, but Hood’s face drops into a deadpan. “That is really not helping your case.”

Your neighbor eyes the gun nervously.

Hood sighs, “I’m not going to kill you. I’ve been told it’s bad manners to execute someone the first time you meet.” He glances down the nail marks on his arm and steals his jaw. “No. What’s going to happen is you’re going to break your lease and move out. Within the next week.”

The neighbors eyes widen, “A week? Are you insane?”

Hood tilts his head a bit before shaking it, “Nah, you’re right. By tomorrow night.”

“This is my apartment. I live here, I’m not going anywhere. And unless you’re secretly Saul the landlord under there, you can’t do anything about it.” He crosses his arms, clearly feeling very proud of himself. Well, killing him isn’t the only option, is it?

“Yeah, I thought you’d say that.” Hood clocks him hard on the head with the frame of his gun. He goes down quickly and loudly, clutching his head, groaning. “The alternative is getting beaten half to death and hoping whatever hospital you end up at knows what they’re doing.”

Honestly, neighbor boy is pressing his luck as is. Maybe it was a bad idea for Jason to bring the gun.

“Fuck! Fine! I’ll go!” He wails.

Hood kicks his abdomen with the side of his boot, though not nearly as hard as he wanted to. “Shut up. You’ll disturb the neighbors.”

The neighbor groans again, quieter. He mumbles something about Hood being crazy but it gets lost under the grunts of pain.

Hood crouches down next to him, patting him on the head with the barrel of his gun. “Don’t worry, bud. I’ll check up on you. And if I ever see you so much as look in the general direction of another girl I’ll put a bullet in your head. Sound good?”

Your former neighbor drops his head to the ground, hand still clutching the growing swell on his forehead.

#these are all wildly different lengths my b #jason todd loves his gf #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd x you #jason todd/you #jason todd/reader #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x you #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood fanfic #red hood fanfiction

[dixons-sunshine]

Just A Bad Dream | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

*GIF isn't mine.*

Summary: Despite being together for over a year, Daryl had never once uttered those three important words to you. You had never let it bother you, choosing to move at the archers preferred pace. One night, after a particularly bad dream, was when those important words were uttered to you.

Genre: Angst to fluff.

Era: Alexandria, post Saviour arc, pre the building of the bridge.

Warnings: Nightmares.

Word count: 1k.

A/n: Working on transferring all of my projects from my old phone to this one, so I wrote this little snippet instead to have something to post. Hope y'all like it! This was inspired by a post I saw on my dash but I don't know who made the original post.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“No. Please, no! Dun' hurt her, please!”

Stirred from your slumber by your partner's distressed mumbling, you turned over in the bed. You slowly rubbed the sleep from your eyes, clearing the sleep induced fog from your mind before turning your head towards the sleeping archer beside you.

Your heart clenched in pain at the sight of distress evident on his face. His eyes were scrunched tightly and his eyebrows were furrowed into a deep frown. His breathing was erratic and there was sweat rolling down his temple.

While deciding whether or not to gently shake Daryl awake, Daryl bolted upright in bed. “No!”

“Daryl?” you spoke softly, sitting up slowly and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. However, it seemed as though he was still stuck in a daze, because he jerked away from your touch, whipping his head to stare at you with wide eyes.

“Daryl, baby, it's okay! It's just me. It's just me. You're okay. You're here with me,” you reassured him in a soft voice, slowly placing your hand on his shoulder again. When he didn't flinch away this time, you brought both of your hands up to cup his cheeks. “You're okay.”

Daryl slowly nodded, his breathing sounding choked off. Unwillingly, a tear slipped from his glossy eyes, and you gently wiped it away with your thumb. Acting on instinct, Daryl moved forward and wrapped his arms around you, dropping his head onto your shoulder. A sob wracked through his body, causing your heart to break into a million pieces for the man who you loved dearly.

You placed a small, tender kiss to his temple, slightly rocking your bodies from side to side. You simply held Daryl in your arms and allowed him to cry it out, acutely aware of the fact that he rarely, if ever, cried. His emotions bottled over and this one particular nightmare was his breaking point. Whatever the nightmare was about, it must've been terrible for the strong archer to break down.

“He killed ya,” Daryl finally told you in a broken whisper, his voice cracking towards the end. “He killed ya and I couldn't stop him.”

“Who?” you gently urged, rubbing your hand soothingly over his back, hoping to bring him some comfort.

Daryl shook his head, tightening his arms around you. “I dun'—I dun' know,” he whispered with a strain in his voice, sniffling slightly. “It was Negan at first, but then it was my father, and after a while I couldn't tell 'em apart anymore. One of 'em brought that fuckin' bat over yer head and I had to watch. I couldn't stop him. I can't lose ya, I can't—”

You pressed another kiss to his head, holding the back of his head gently as he buried his head deeper into your shoulder. His tears were staining your—technically his—shirt, but you didn't even notice. Your only focus at that moment was to try and calm the archer down. To reassure him that it was only a nightmare, that you were okay.

“Daryl, hey. Look at me,” you softly urged him, watching carefully as he slowly lifted his head and looked into your eyes. “I'm okay. I'm right here. It was only a nightmare. Your father's dead and Negan is locked up. He might as well be dead. Neither of them will ever get to me or anyone else ever again.”

Daryl nodded, his eyes casting downwards. “I know. S'jus'... M'scared,” he admitted, bringing one of his hands up to wipe the tears from his eyes. “I can't lose ya. I jus' can't. I won't survive if somethin' happened to ya.”

“You won't lose me,” you reassured him, pulling him into your arms. Slowly and carefully, you lowered yourself down until you were laying back on the bed, Daryl now comfortably laying on your chest. “I promise you, nothing will happen to me. I won't go anywhere near Negan. You're stuck with me for the rest of your life, Dixon.”

Daryl chuckled softly, burying his head deeper into your chest. “I like the sound of tha',” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to your chest. He sighed in content when he felt your fingers begin to thread through his hair, closing his eyes at the comforting feeling.

In no time at all, Daryl was yawning, eliciting a fond giggle from you. “Go to sleep, baby. I promise I'll be here when you wake up.”

Daryl nodded and allowed his body to relax, willing his mind to shut off. You were okay. He was okay. His father is dead and couldn't terrorize him anymore. Negan wasn't dead, but he was locked up and couldn't get out. Everything was starting to get better.

As he was being lulled into slumber, he let a confession fall from his lips, something he should've told you long ago:

“I love ya.”

You smiled softly down at him, pressing a soft kiss against his forehead. You had waited for a long time to hear those three important words from him. Deep down, you always knew Daryl loved you, but hearing it from the man himself finally confirmed it. Your heart swelled with love, and you couldn't believe how lucky you had gotten with this beautiful man.

“I love you more, Daryl Dixon.”

You didn't know whether he had heard you or not. Everything was silent after you had said that. The warm press of Daryl's body against yours and the reassuring rise and fall of his chest lulled you into sleep as well. However, right before darkness overtook you, you heard him mumbling one last thing.

“I love ya the most, sunshine.”

#krys writes .ೃ࿐ #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #twd daryl #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #the walking dead #norman reedus #norman reedus x reader

[maxtermind]

HEYYY!!! I’ve been looking at smut prompts all day and my brain is packed w fic ideas. May i request a mv1 fic with prompts “no underwear?”, “did you wear this just for me?” and “dont worry about the damn clothes, i’ll just buy you new ones” with spanish!reader and kind of like friends w tension vibes???

i want you all to myself

★ : feat :: max verstappen x reader ★ : genre :: mature ★ : word count :: 800 ★ : a/n :: this is not a tease, i genuinely don't think i can write good smut. but tension and yearning? hell yeah! not specifically spanish!reader because i wasn't sure what you wanted me to add for that. thanks for the request love, feedback is always appreciated :)

The air crackled with tension as you stood face to face with Max, his gaze intense, almost palpable against your skin. Your heart raced with anticipation, every nerve on edge, as you waited for him to speak.

Max broke the silence, his voice teasing yet laced with an unmistakable desire that sent shivers down your spine. ”No underwear?” he hissed, his tone suggestive, his eyes lingering on you with a mix of amusement and something deeper.

”Oh.” You taunted, reveling in the way he struggled to maintain his composure. A coy smile playing on your lips as you watched his face flush and his hands clench tightly. ”Don't hold back on my account.”

You forced a casual smile, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened at the sight of him.

His breath caught in his throat as he struggled to find words, his eyes never leaving yours. ”Did you wear this just for me, darling?” Max's voice wavered slightly, betraying the intensity of his longing as he shamelessly eyed you.

Your lips curved into a smirk as you closed the distance, his eyes never leaving yours. ”Maybe I did,” you admitted, keeping your voice low, delighted to see the effect that had on Max.

Max groaned before reaching forward for the fabric of your dress, his fingers tightening around it as he pulled you closer. He looked at you as if he was mad as to why you were still not losing your sanity like he was.

Not knowing that the only reason you had pulled this stunt was because your patience had run dry.

The tension between you was palpable, a silent dance of desire and uncertainty as you stood locked in a silent exchange, each daring the other to make a move. That was before he aimlessly pushed forward and the sound of your poor dress echoed in the silence.

You gasped and tried to pry away but Max instead pulled you closer, resting his forehead on yours. His skin flushed as he sighed to stay calm and get himself together.

”Don't worry about the damn clothes,” Max grunted, his voice sending a rush of heat through your veins. Frustratingly pulling the torn material down your body in a frantic manner. ”I'll just buy you new ones.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a surge of insecurity washing over you, making you hold his hands under yours, not letting him see you yet. ”You'll buy me new ones, huh?”

Before you could carry on, your lips met in a heated kiss, so hard that the back of your neck, from where he grabbed you, pulsed. However, it had such a good effect making your legs shudder as ou sighed against his mouth.

Max was panting as he hurriedly tried to swallow all of your breaths and it made so much sense. As your lips moved together, you realized how much sense you guys made, how well you fit together.

Even as you surrendered to the passion, a nagging fear lingered in the back of your mind. It felt so insatiably good but you knew you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you were to just ruin all this for a sultry desperate explosion. When it was painfully obvious that you ached for more

”I don't wanna do this just for one night,” you whispered against his lips, your voice trembling with uncertainty. ”I want us to stay...” ‘Friends,’ would’ve been a lie so for the lack of a better term, you refrained from putting any labels.

Max pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours with a depth that took your breath away. ”I'm not going anywhere,” he assured you, his voice soft but firm. ”I wish I could wait, but baby, I- I want more, right now. I want you.”

Relief flooded through you at his words, comically short lived, because not even a second later, it got mingled with the desire that burned hot and fierce within you. ”I want you too,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper as you melted into his embrace. ”Really badly.”

Max pulled you in for another kiss and you almost lost it on the spot when he smirked against your mouth.

”You’re gonna ruin everyone else for me, huh?” He laughed in disbelief and if you weren’t as overwhelmed as you were, you might have scoffed but instead you squeezed his body under your palms.

Max’s eyes dilating as soon as you said your next words as you pushed the flimsy material off your body.

”You already have.”

©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

#★ : my work ! #f1 #fanfic #formula 1 #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen smut #max f1 #max verstappen #max verstappen fic #max verstappen f1 #max verstappen x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x you #mv1 fanfic #mv1 #mv1 x reader #mv1 imagine #mv1 fic #mv1 x you #mv1 x y/n #mv1 one shot #formula one imagine #mv1 smut #max verstappen imagines #f1 fandom #formula one

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 62

part 1 | part 61 | ao3

cw: violence, off-hand mentions of drug use

Light bleeds through the cracks in the boathouse walls. Max is the one who found it, spotted the glowing bulb over the door and called them down the slope behind the house to check it out, and now Steve leads the group inside and clings to his nail bat in a way he hopes is reassuring but is probably just putting everyone else on edge. 

Can’t really be helped, though. 

Place gives him the creeps. 

It's dark and dank, overwhelmingly humid, with a smell like mildew and old food over a layer of fear sweat, and the wood groans beneath their feet while the walls sway with the breeze. Makes it feel like the room is breathing, like they're standing inside of a haunted lung. 

Steve braces himself in the middle of the room, head on a swivel while the group fans out around the edges, dipping in and out of shadow. Dustin calls for Eddie. Max checks the latch on a window. Robin points her flashlight at a pile of food wrappers and says, "This looks new." 

Steve flexes his fingers on the bat; picks up an oar, too, just to be safe.

"What?" Dustin snorts. "You gonna dual-wield against your boyfriend?"

Steve rolls his eyes. "He's not my—"

"—Ex-boyfriend, then, whatever. Still can't believe you never told me about that." 

“Okay,” Steve huffs. Dustin’s grumpy muttering sounds more hurt than he’s letting on, but he’s letting on plenty, and Steve’s too keyed up to do this right now. “Can we just—” He gestures around the room with the oar to illustrate how completely not the time for this it is. “Can we not?" 

"No,” Dustin protests, voice rising, “no, we can't not, Steve, because you—" He steps into Steve’s space, jabbing a finger against his sternum and backing him up to the edge of a tarp-covered boat. "—are a liar. You have been lying to me for months! And now it looks like you're gearing up to try and bludgeon my good friend with two blunt objects!" 

"Shut up!” Steve snaps. He takes a deep breath; lifts the blunt objects in question, giving them a little shake. “First of all, it's not the boyfriend I'm worried about using these on, and secondly—"

He doesn't get to finish that sentence. 

He doesn’t get to plant his feet.

With a noise like a war cry, something blue blurs at the edge of Steve’s periphery and launches him across the room, shoving him backward over tarps and tackle boxes until his back slams against the wall and knocks the wind out of him, and his skull smacks the wood and sets off a snow storm in his vision — muffled ringing in his ears, tornado warning wailing through a thick layer of cotton. Steve’s friends are all shouting, and there’s something sharp against his throat, and someone is barking questions at him; hot, stale breath over his chin; a fist balled up in the front of his shirt. 

“Are you real?” the voice demands, hand twisting in Steve’s collar and tugging him against the sharp thing. “ARE YOU REAL?”

Steve blinks. Blinks and sways into the sharp sting beneath his jaw until the dizzy spell ends.

The scene before him comes into focus slowly.

Steve thinks, for the millionth time that day, that he must be losing his mind. That he must have lost it already.

The blurry, shouting thing is Eddie. Eddie, who is glassy-eyed and drooling like a wild animal, who is pinning Steve to a splintered wall with a shattered bottle to his throat; whose face floods Steve with such intensely euphoric relief that he thinks he finally gets why people do hard drugs.

Even now, even like this, the only thought in Steve’s head is how lovely Eddie's face is.

How grateful he is to see it again, even if it might be the last thing he ever sees.

Beside them, Dustin speaks in low, placating tones, holding out his hands and encouraging Eddie to back off. Promising that Steve’s not gonna hurt him, that they’re all just here to help as Eddie’s eyes slip over and past Steve and his body tenses for the kill.

“Not real, not real, not real,” Eddie mumbles, spit shining on his shaking lip.

The bottle knicks Steve’s skin. 

“Eddie!” Dustin begs. Max and Robin's eyes are huge. And Steve—

Steve laughs. A soft, hysterical thing, barely voiced, because of course Eddie’s going to kill him. Of course he is.

He’s already been doing it for weeks. 

"What happened to your knife?" he jokes wetly, tipping his head back to bare his throat.

The question snaps Eddie back to himself. Steve watches from under his damp lashes as Eddie's eyes sharpen on him, darting all over his face with sudden, painful awareness, with something dangerously close to hope.

The hand holding the bottle trembles. "...Baby?" Eddie whispers, wet eyes searching still.

Steve holds his gaze. Nods against the jagged edge.

Glass shatters on the floor as Eddie collapses into him.

—

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #dustin henderson #max mayfield #my writing #my fic

[hanafubukki]

Summary: General Vanrouge watches a couple dance.

Laughter reached his ears from where he sat.

Joyous and carefree.

From his position, he can see the shadows twirling around each other in what seemed to be a kitchen.

He watched as someone, who had a similar appearance to his own, lifted another up before swinging them into his arms.

Normally, he wouldn’t believe such a being would be related to him in any way.

But magic did not lie, and the one from this fae matched his own.

A shiver ran down his spine.

Sharp magenta met crimson red.

A warning.

Do not ruin this moment.

He wasn’t planning to.

This view before him, spoke of peace and tranquility.

He…didn’t want his hands full of scars and blood to mar such a scene.

He looked away as the two before him kissed.

A nap right now seems like the perfect opportunity.

…but a part of him yearned.

“I was wondering when you would pop up.”

Crimson eyes met his own.

Stubborn. Young. Rebellious.

Someone who didn’t know what life held for him.

Lilia kind of pitied his younger self, but knew saying such might lead to an altercation.

Which generally he wouldn’t mind at all, it would be amusing to compare his strengths now to back then.

But he didn’t want the risk of waking you and the others up. He already had to talk down Malleus from accompanying him.

“You’re with a…human.”

Lilia held back a laugh, “That’s for you to find out.”

The General before him bristled but sighing. It seems he knew it was a losing battle to try and get any information out of him.

“Listen up you!”

The sharp glare sent his way had him smirking.

“Never let this moment go. What you see now? This is the future you can look forward to. Come what may, hold on and do not let go.”

“How do I know this isn’t a trick?”

“Come General~ You and I both know magic never lies.”

The General looked away. How amusing. He was pouting. Lilia itched to tease him more.

“Are…you happy?”

Ah. The question he always held in and never spoke nor shown back during his days as the Phantom General.

“Yes. More than you can imagine.”

Lilia can see the yearning his younger self held deep within as he looked towards where his family stayed.

You’ll know happiness. You’ll experience it yourself. It will take years of pain and suffering, but it will be worth it.

“You have much to look forward to.”

General Vanrouge straightened his stance, a new shine in his eyes.

Good. It will serve him well in his journey.

“I didn’t know I would become so sappy.”

“Kufufu~ That’s what love does to a fae. It changes you.”

The face the General made had him almost bending over in laughter.

Ah yes, he remembers this phase of his. The General has so much to learn…to aknowledge. Some of which even he didn’t learn until many years ago.

During a certain event at Night Raven College, but he wasn’t going to tell him that.

Seeing his past self, Lilia ached to go back to his family. Back to their warmth.

For now though, he waited with a version of himself he hasn’t seen in a long while. One, that he would once upon a time run away from.

But now?

He had long ago acknowledged this side of himself, for it was this version of himself that led him to his current happiness. That led him to his loves.

And he couldn’t be more grateful.

The past and future stood side by side, basking in this tranquility, enjoying what will come and what currently is.

Bonus:

“Why do you look like that.”

“Hey! I look cute!”

I felt so soft and in love when writing this 🥹🥹🥰

(I feel like I wrote a part of my soul into this 🥰💞)

#oh writing this was such a blast and…the way I am so soft right now 🥹💞💚 #lilia vanrouge #general lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #general lilia vanrouge x reader #twst x reader #twst x you #twst fluff #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x you #mention malleus draconia #twst lilia vanrouge x reader #twst lilia vanrouge #twst scenarios #twst drabbles #twst imagines #twisted wonderland headcanon #lilia vanrouge x you #general Lilia Vanrouge x you

[sincerelyrki]

but i love the taste of you

Heeseung never did enjoy lollipops, their overrated taste never interesting him. But perhaps tasting it from your lips could change everything. As for the laptop? It just happened to be in the perfect place, at the perfect time.

pairing : bf!heeseung x fem!reader

warnings + genre : smut. profanity. licking. biting. heeseung is lowkey obsessed. unprotected sex (pls don’t!). oral (both ways). kissing over a lollipop (trust 🙏). recording. switch!heeseung. switch!reader. little bit of degrading (just a bit, promise). spit it mentioned a few times. 18+. mdni.

wc : 3.9k

a/n : you can probably see my addiction to secondhand tasting [ cherry lips, a cherry for my cherry, and now this one… (the lollipop was def cherry flavoured in my head)] anyways, this is only my second time writing full smut so please lmk how i did! fb + rbs are always appreciated <3

Heeseung sat with his jaw clenched; hands fisting by his side as he watched your lollipop glide down your tongue, satisfying pops sounding out whenever you pulled it from your mouth. 

He felt like he was losing his mind, his patience wearing thin the longer he listened to your soft hums of delight. 

The sounds were identical to the ones he had you making just hours ago, your body still clad in nothing but his t-shirt and your cute little panties. 

You were daunting him, you had to be. There was no other explanation as to why you were making all these erotic sounds, why you were licking your lollipop in the same way you had done to him that same morning. 

Heeseung rose to a stand, feet bringing him towards you without hesitation. He stood tall in front of you, his body blocking your vision from your computer’s screen. 

“I can’t see, baby. Can you please move over?” You looked up at him over your lashes, wide eyes matching your perfectly pouted lips.

Heeseung swore under his breath, his pants tightening as he laid a firm hand on your shoulder, gently pushing you to lean back against the couch. 

You sat back with a smirk, teeth still pressing down on the lollipop stick. At first, you didn’t mean to make the whole scene suggestive, but you’d never pass up the opportunity to tease your boyfriend. 

You knew how easily he got turned on, how easy it was for you to turn him to putty in your hands. It wasn’t that you always took advantage of it, but there’s no harm in doing it every once in a while. 

Especially when he looked as good as he did now, his messy hair - courtesy to you- stirring your arousal as the reminder of your long morning came rolling back.

You sat still under him, your eyes never leaving his heated ones, basking in the way he glared down at you. You had been fantasizing about his reaction, about how rough he would take you.

There’s nothing that irritated Heeseung more than when his good girl teased him, but there’s also nothing that turned him on more. 

There was something about your innocent facade, your delicate eyes staring at him with the warmth of the morning sun. Something about the way you conceived everyone into thinking you were some perfect, flawless, princess. 

The way you convinced everyone that you were nothing like how you actually were, you’re just a brat wearing a pretty face. But you were only Heeseungs brat, something he proved to you whenever he could.

Heeseung turned his back towards you, bending at the waist to pick up your computer. He rolled his eyes at the rotting footage playing across from him, some random romance sitcom with no specific plot.

It was the same genre you always chose to indulge in, sitting pretty while your brain worked on autopilot to create its own interpretations of how these soulless actors would portray these tedious scenes. 

That’s when an idea hit Heeseung, one that he’d been fantasizing about since the day he first touched you. What better movie is there to watch, than the one you create with the person you love?

It was perfect, everything about it. 

And so Heeseung turned back around, putting his weight on one knee and he moved the other on your other side. He sat down on your plush thighs, straddling you as you sunk deeper into the couch. 

You had long lost eye contact your the man before you, the computer blocking your sight. You ignored the way your show suddenly turned quiet, rolling your eyes at what you thought was Heeseung being over dramatic.

But what he had done next, was something that you’d be thinking about the next time you needed some sort of relief, your hands down your parties as you pleasured yourself to the thought of your boyfriend. 

Heeseung placed the computer on the side table, the two of you fitting perfectly in frame. He barely glanced at the screen before he grabbed your jaw, one hand holding it as the other pressed down on your bottom lip.

Two sides of Heeseung’s fingers touched against the lollipop in your mouth, sandwiching it between his fingers as he pried your mouth open. 

You looked up at Heeseung in shock, the lollipop sitting loose in your mouth as you allowed him to control your body in the ways he wanted. 

“You know, I’m not a huge fan of lollipops…” Heeseung trailed off, his fingers crawling from your mouth and onto your tongue. He swiped two fingers across the sugary surface of the lollipop, trailing it in a line across one side of the candy.

He then dragged his fingers from the lollipop, across your tongue, and to your lips. He used his fingers to rub the sweetness across your mouth, a sweet coat of sugar replacing your long smudged lipgloss.

“But I love the taste of you.” He used the same two fingers to pull the candy from your mouth, leaning it to vertically press against your lips. He leaned down to your face, pressing his lips to the other side of the lollipop.

He then angled the stick in a way that allowed the lollipop to stick in the middle of both of your lips, the taste transferring to the both of you. 

He closed his eyes, uncaring of the fact that yours were wide open and staring directly at him. He gently stuck out his tongue, removing his lips enough to run his tongue across the side of the lollipop.

He turned his head as his tongue slowly moved across it, eventually meeting the end and ending on the corner of your lips.

Heeseung stayed in that position, his lips barely touching yours as he let out a quiet hum, licking the sugar off his lips as he reopened his eyes. “Delicious” He pressed a small peck to the side of your lips, pulling back to sit up straight.

Heeseung was still holding the lollipop to your lips, only this time he turned the stick so the end was facing towards his chest, the candy facing towards your mouth.

He made a show of opening his mouth, sticking out his tongue as he let a hushed “a” sound leave his lips.

He gave you a small smirk as you followed his command, lips opening wide as you stuck your tongue out the same way. “Good girl” Heeseung cooed at you in a tone that was anything but proud. 

He pushed the candy back in your mouth, using his other hand to close your jaw around it. “You’re so pretty like this, with your dirty lips wrapped around something.” Heeseung quirked an amused eyebrow as you responded to his degrading words with a whine, furrowed eyebrows staring up at him.

“Oh? You don’t look pretty with something in your mouth?” You whined again, eyebrows furrowing even more. Heeseung tilted his head to the side, face pulling up in an unfamiliar way.

 “Lips aren’t dirty” You tried speaking through your closed mouth, words barely recognizable. Heeseung humorlessly chucked at your words, a proud grin settling on his face.

“M’sorry baby, you have the prettiest lips.” Your forehead smoothed as you sunk back down, satisfied with his answer. “Should we show the camera?”

Heeseung leaned over to grab the laptop, his teeth on display as he replayed your reaction in his head. The way your body tensed at his words, eyes widening a fraction and legs jolting. 

“You must think I'm dumb, don’t you? Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” You were filled with the same desires as Heeseung, your fantasy of recording each other haunting you every time you have sex. 

“I know my dumb baby too well, there isn’t anything I haven’t already seen.” Heeseung was now watching their reflection on the screen, his desire growing as he watched the way you began pushing against him. 

“Is my baby getting needy?” Through the screen he watched as you rapidly nodded, teeth still pressing down on the lollipop. “Good, let’s show the camera how pretty your lips are first.”

Heeseung brought the laptop up between the two of you, holding it near your chest as he stared down at you, “hold it.” 

With the laptop held securely in your hands, Heeseung turned his attention back to your candy. This time, he opened your mouth in a different way. 

He pushed down on the lollipop, forcing your mouth to open due to the pressure. He slowly slid it out from your mouth, his mouth salivating as the sweet scent reached his nose. 

The camera got a close-up of the way a small string of saliva connected from your mouth to the candy, caught the way it disappeared as Heeseung’s head swooped in from over the laptop as pressed against yours.

Filthy sounds filled the room, your messy kiss being caught from a lowered angle. Though many might now think the angle would be ideal, it was nothing less than perfect.

It perfectly captured the way Heeseung’s tongue wrapped around yours, the way your head chased after his as he pulled back to change angles. 

It caught everything, including your pretty moans. 

Heeseung carelessly tossed the lollipop behind him, the table close enough for it to land on without having to look. He moved both of his hands to wrap around your waist, his hands pressing down on your curves.

“Wait, let me fix the camera” You stuttered mid-sentence, mouth refusing to leave his as you placed the laptop on the couch beside the two of you, everything above your knees visible. 

Heeseung slid his hands under your shift, sliding it up and over your head in a vast movement, disconnecting your lips for no more than five seconds before pressing against you again.

His hands squeezed at your skin, his hands coming up to grope at you.

Your head tilted back with a loud moan as he disconnected your lips to kiss the exposed skin at the top of your bra, his hands pushing your tits up as he sucked dark marks onto your skin.

He acted like a man who’d never seen a pair of breasts before, ravaging them like a starved man. He moved lower down your legs as he undid your bra, kissing and sucking spots along his path until he reached your pants. 

Heeseung slid off the couch, slotting himself between your open legs as he bit along your lower stomach, kissing your stretch marks as he appreciated your entire body. 

“My girl is so pretty, the prettiest girl in the world.” He mumbled out, sounding drunk off your skin. “So so pretty” He repeated over and over as he placed more and more kisses.

He slid his hands back down towards your legs, fingers wrapping around your waistline before he looked up at you, eyes hooded as he waited for your consent. 

At your nod, Heeseung quickly undid your pants, pulling them down and off your legs. Your panties quickly followed, getting tossed across the room in a random pile that would soon be joined by his clothes. 

Due to the shift of weight, the laptop toppled over to the side, landing in the perfect view of Heeseung between your legs. It was a sight worth millions, the sight of a man who was actually willing to sacrifice anything to get a taste of pussy. 

Heeseung pulled your legs over his shoulder, using his hands to pull your body closer to his face. His eyes closed with a loud hum, the familiar smell enveloping his senses in the most pleasurable way possible.

“You smell so good, I love you so much” Heeseung spoke once before placing a small kiss against your folds, one of his hands coming up to spread you for him.

He gave your inner thigh one last kiss before he leaned in, his lips wrapping around your clit as his vibrations caused mass pleasure to wring out across your body. 

Your back arched as his tongue circled you, your sensitive nerves reacting to his loving movements. Heeseung always started slow, paying attention to your most pleasurable parts as he submerged himself into you.

His tongue was now replaced with his thumb, fast circled getting rubbed against you as he stuck his tongue flat against your opening, slowly curling it as he collected whatever juices he could. 

A mixture of his spit and your arousal was nothing more than his wettest dreams, the taste automatically beating the one of the sugary lollipops. He could happily drown within you, the only way he’d ever want to go. 

After a few minutes of prolonging your orgasm, he finally decided to finish it off, bringing you to your most craved high. 

He pushed his fingers into you, his tongue replacing the spot his thumb was moments prior. As good as Heeseung’s fingers felt, nothing compared to his tongue.

It felt like magic, the way he was able to make you feel so much in such a short amount of time. Your back arched as your legs quivered around his head, thighs tightening around his head as your heels dug into his clothes back. 

Broken moans left your lips, the sound rising the more you felt the waves coming up. Heeseung felt it too, the way you clenched around his fingers while your hips began rocking against your face.

He used the hand that was wrapped around one of your tights to go up and press against your lower stomach, pushing on it as your high washed over you. 

Loud slurps and moans filled the room, your breath caught in your throat as your back arched as far as it could. Heeseung felt you through it, both his fingers and to continue moving unrelentingly.

“Too much.” You gently shinned, legs still shaking as Heeseung licked you clean. He hummed against you, removing his fingers as he finished off, “I know baby, I know.”

Heeseung sat back up, one of his hands grabbing at the bottom of his shit to pull it off his head. You watched through tired eyes as your boyfriend palmed himself through his pants, head tilting forwards as his eyes stayed glued to your face.

It was a habit that Heeseung couldn’t seem to shake, the action starting when your relationship first started. You used to get shy after Heeseung ate you out, cheeks heating up as you tried hiding yourself.

Obviously, you weren’t shy anymore, the hundreds of minutes he’d spent between your legs long swishing that shyness. 

While you were calming down and preparing yourself again, Heeseung busied himself with getting undressed. He removed each article of clothing, throwing them roughly in the same direction as yours. 

The sight of your boyfriend bare before your eyes caused your body to light up with electricity once again, legs tingling as you obsessed with the way his cock twitched at your watchful eyes.

Heeseung leaned down to grab the laptop, placing it on the table that it was on, to begin with, one that gave it the sight of the entire couch. 

You changed positions, turning your back towards the roof as you crawled towards one side of the couch, arching your back for your boyfriend as you playfully looked over your shoulder at him. 

“I’m not going to fuck myself.” You fluttered your eyelashes, arousal growing as Heeseung playfully snickered at you in disbelief. “Don’t worry, I’ll fuck you so good.”

He kneels on the couch behind you, hands spreading your ass as he pushes himself to glide between your lips. He coated himself with your wetness before sinking into you, bottoming out as you pushed yourself back into him. 

His nails dug into your love handles, grabbing them for stability as he pushed himself into you. His head fell back as he felt himself continuously bottom out.

It was rare that you went without a condom, and there was no better feeling than the friction of your bare skin rubbing together. 

“Fuck, you feel so good.” A loud pitch moan left your lips in response, a little more dramatic due to the camera recording you. 

Heeseung could feel himself losing control, the warm feeling of being inside of you chasing his hips to push into you harder. 

Quiet swears left his lips as he found his constant pace, hips hitting against yours as he leaned over your back, hands leaving your hips to wrap around your hands. 

He pushed your hands down against the couch, his new angle allowing him to get more depth. 

“Please, I want to cum whilst riding you.” Heeseung swore one last time before pulling out, flipping your position as he leaned his back against the back of the couch. 

Your feet pressed against his legs, hips raised as you used your hand to place his dick against you. You circled his tip around your entrance one time before you sunk onto him, hand moving down to play with his balls as you bounced up and down. 

Heeseung threw his head back, eyes narrowing to slits as his pleasure weighed down his body. One of his hands rubbed up your body, grabbing your chest as the other squeezed the soft skin of your waist. 

He turned his attention toward the area where the two of you were connected, his mouth drying as he watched a ring of white froth form at his base. 

His abdominal muscles contracted as he trusted his hips forward, louder clapping filling the room as he changed the tempo. 

There was a moment where both of your eyes met, the primal desire mirroring back through your own reflections. Heeseung gave you a small smirk, one side of his mouth quirking up.

He winked at you once before he grabbed your hand, his fingers wrapping around the entirety of yours as he brought it to grab his neck.

“Use me” You tightened your hand around his neck at his suddenly sultry whisper, knees burning as you dropped against him harder. 

You bent forward, chest bumping against him as you used your hands to tilt his head back, his hair falling back to reveal his damp forehead. 

You pressed your tongue against the top of his sternum, licking a strip up until your nose touched his earlobe, teeth replacing its spot as you bit down on him.

His back arched beneath you, small sounds leaving his lips as you marked him. You treated his neck the same way you had the lollipop, using him the way he liked. 

“You feel so good.” Heeseung breathlessly praised you, his voice coming out higher than usual. It was easy to tell when Heeseung was getting close, the way he started touching your body more. 

Even with Heeseung under you, he always made sure you came undone first. The way your pleasure contoured your body caused his own long-awaited high to multiply tens fold. 

Though the feeling of his skin against yours caused a euphoric sensation to ring out across your body, you couldn’t stop yourself from teasing him a little more.

You halted your body, palms pushing down on your boyfriend's hips to stop his constant buckling.

“I want to make you feel good before.” You rose higher on your knees, only his tip remaining in as you shot him your best attempt of an innocent smile.

Heeseung tried not to let your words affect him, the pleasure that faded with the lack of stimulation returning at the thought of your lips wrapping around him.

“I much prefer you over the lollipop, nothing compares to the way you fill me.” 

Heeseung let out a shaky breath as his left leg began to shake, arms flexing as he fisted the cushions under him. “Fuck, do whatever you’d like, I’ll take anything you’re willing to give me.”

You removed him from you completely, your palm reaching up towards his lips as you looked at him with an expected gaze. Heeseung puckered his lips out, a sizable drop of spit landing between the crevices of your fingers. 

“That’s not enough.” You clicked your tongue at him, faux disapproval seeping out through your lips as you pulled your hand away from him. “You’re lucky I'm still wet, I'll just have to do it myself.”

You reached down, fingers collecting your wetness before you wrapped your hand back around him. Heeseung’s mouth fell open as you placed a small kiss against the base of his shaft, a trail of kisses following your hand as you slowly moved it up.

A sudden whimper left his mouth as you hollowed your cheeks around him, the suction perfectly squeezing around him. 

His sounds only rose as you added your tongue, the soft muscle tracing along his prominent vein. He almost forgot about the laptop, a small red light reminding him of the almost hour-long video. 

He stared directly into the camera, maximizing his expressions knowing that sooner or later, you’d be watching this back. He knew what got you off, what he could do to make you feel as good as possible. 

It was completely mutual, your knowledge of his body aiding in drawing out a loud, genuine, sound from his pretty lips. 

His back lifted from the couch, body flinching as your finger pressed against his perineum, sharp shocks of pleasure shooting across his body.

His breath caught in his chest as his hand shot out to grab your head, your hair fisting in his hands as he pushed you down further.

He didn’t stop, not even after hearing your choking sounds. As said before, he knew exactly what you liked.

 He wasn’t the only one who enjoyed being choked, you just experienced it differently. 

You continued stimulating his prostate through his perineum, spit dribbling down from the corners of your lips as you drew him closer to his orgasm.

He barely warned you before letting go in your mouth, the only telltale being the trembling of his legs. 

You tried your best to swallow everything he gave you, his familiar salty taste replacing the coating of sweetness in your throat. 

You pulled back, tongue peaking out to lap at the drops you had missed before, cleaning him from your shared mess. 

Heeseung panted from above you, his eyes closed as his heart pounded loudly in his chest. He felt the way you raised from your knees, your hand wrapping around his jaw as you pulled him in for a messy kiss.

The taste of himself no longer caused any reaction, he’d long gotten used to tasting himself on your tongue after you’d gone down on him.

“You’re not going to be able to walk tomorrow.” Heeseung said completely seriously, masking the truth behind his words with a joking tone. 

“That’s just the way I like it.” You replied back, scooting back to rest your head against the arm of the couch, legs spreading for your boyfriend to get a good view of what you were going to do next. 

“I’m ready when you are, show me how good you can treat me.” You never looked away from his eyes as you pressed your finger down against your clit, basking in the way his cock twitched at you.

“Or are you too tired?” Heeseung rolled his eyes at you, his body moving to hover over yours as he pushed himself between your legs.

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” You returned his wolfish grin, hand leaving your body to grab his waist, pulling his hips against yours. 

“Show me.”

#sincerelyrki #sincerelyrki : one shots #heeseung smut #lee heeseung smut #enhypen smut #kpop smut #enhypen heeseung smut #enhypen lee heeseung smut #enha smut #lee heeseung x y/n #lee heeseung x reader #heeseung x reader #lee heeseung #heeseung #enhypen scenarios #enhypen #kpop scenarios #heeseung fic #heeseung x yn #enha heeseung #heeseung enhypen smut #lee heeseung enhypen smut #enhypen lee heeseung #enha x you #enha x reader #enha x female reader #heeseung x female reader #heeseung x fem reader #lee heeseung x you #heeseung x you

[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Twenty-Nine

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: does a handsy Jasper need a warning?

Notes: oh my god it’s been so long, I’ve been eating myself up over not posting. I’ve been working myself to death, but I’ve finally got a long weekend off and so I used it to get back to what makes me happy - this story! Omg I hope you guys love it🥹 I also have to go through and update my taglist later tonight, so bear with me on that until I add it!

Word Count: 1500

Series Masterlist

• April 3rd, 2006 • Forks HS •

Reader

Tingly.

That’s the state of my body this morning, the state of my mind.

Not only am I riding an emotional high from our conversation this weekend, but my dream last night… Good lord, that dream.

I can feel the echoes of his fingers on my skin, the coolness of his lips, the wet trail they would’ve left behind… the solid weight of what surely his body would feel like, pressed against mine. I can imagine all of what it would be like vividly, to be under him, to get carried away, to just explore-

“You alright, darlin’?”

His voice jolts me from the day dreaming stare I had on the locker before me, caught red handed. To make matters worse, that deep southern tenor questioned me inches from my ear, causing a blush to heat my cheeks to an almost uncomfortable degree.

“Perfectly fine, why?” I immediately busy myself within my locker so that I don’t have to face him right away.

“You do remember that I can feel you, right?” His voice is low and his hands find my hips tenderly, but the air changes around us.

My heart rate skyrockets, this is dangerous. His fingers flex against me and the death grip I have on this book in my hands turns my knuckles white.

“Jasper-” his name is a whispered warning, but also a plea.

“I know.” Instantly a cooling, soothing balm blankets our tension and I release the tightness in my chest. Leaning backwards into him I just feel tired all of a sudden, like I had run a marathon. “Let’s get out of here.”

His request sounds more like a demand and I twist in his arms, “Is that a good idea?”

“Darlin’, I don’t have many of those these days.” His mouth quirks up in a lopsided grin as he shoves all of my school supplies back in my locker, shutting it and tugging me along behind him towards the student parking lot.

Jasper

Something is on her mind, something dangerous. Something I absolutely want to know, something I’m not sure I have the strength for, but I can’t help it - it’s her.

I’ve never been more thankful for an overcast day with no rain: perfect motorcycle weather. Come to think of it, my sister had a knowing look in her eyes as my siblings all piled into their respective vehicles as I straddled my bike this morning. A decision that currently led me to now: Y/n and I leaving school before midday.

Those thoughts I interrupted earlier have her quiet, but her emotions are raging and it is driving me insane. Curiosity, need, nervousness - a dangerous concoction begging to overtake my rational mind. Separating myself from her feelings is almost impossible at this point, she is so well ingrained in me.

Finally arriving at my thankfully empty home, I shut my motorcycle off and offer a steady hand to help her dismount. Swinging my own leg over, I turn towards her and lean against it, observing her for a moment with crossed arms.

“What?” She makes eye contact as she struggles with the chin strap of my helmet.

Grabbing the helmet by the chin piece, I gently tug her forward between my legs, “Tell me.” I lace the command with neediness to encourage her to be pliant.

And judging by the way her lips part behind the dark visor, the immediate dilation of her eyes, and the weight of her hands settling on my thighs gently, I might’ve laid it on a little too thick.

Chuckling, I free her from my helmet and riding jacket. By the time I finish, she seems to snap from the daze and her hands clench on top of my legs.

“Not fair, Hale.” Feisty this morning.

I lean forward towards her ear with a grin as I stand from my bike to put away the gear, “All’s fair in love and war, sweetheart.”

Reaching to swat my chest, I grab her hand gently before she could injure herself.

Pausing as I hang my jacket up, her teasing response sends excitement through me, “Two can play at that game, baby.”

Stepping into my room, I realize too late what has her curiosity: my desk. Well, the art that occupies every inch, my art.

“What is all this?” Leafing through pencil sketches of my favorite hunting spots and pen etchings of my family at random moments, she gets to the important ones hidden below. Her breathing hitches and I know she’s found them, the ones of her.

Some are in pencil, some are in random felt-tip pens, but my favorites? Those are charcoal. A decently basic medium, but I feel like it captures so much more than anything else ever could. Maybe it’s because I use my fingers to smudge and shape her perfect curves and lines, but it radiates emotion in sweeping gestures and subtle shading - something that’s hard to capture with anything else.

“There’s-” awe, shock, surprise, they all shuffle through her and I’m on edge, waiting to hear her thoughts. “There’s so many…”

I watch her carefully examine each one and I smile when she chuckles at a few - some of her at school, some of her here in my home, moments I not only committed to memory, but to paper.

“Now you know what I do with my free time.” I smile through the minuscule anxiety that bubbles up at her seeing my secret hobby. Everyone in my family knows I draw, but they haven’t seen my drawings.

“Jasper…” I can tell she’s getting emotional, but a part of me is excited for her to see my innermost thoughts on paper, to see herself through my eyes - the unaltered beauty she contains.

“You haven’t even seen the ones I cherish the most.” Opening a familiar sketchbook buried under many other drawings, I reveal my favorites. “The very first ones.”

Her breath hitches, running a reverent finger down the first page. It’s the very first moment I saw her, crouched, scooping up papers on her first day of high school in Forks - absolutely radiant.

“You were a vision that day. A beautiful tornado that wrecked my world, I tried to capture every detail from memory because I never want to forget-”

Her hand finding my cheek breaks me from my explanation and my eyes find her watery ones, mouth open, searching for words clearly hard to get out, “Jasper…”

“I love you.” My confession steals her breath completely this time, the first time I’ve uttered these words aloud and it feels absolutely right. “I’ve loved you since the moment you hit me with that door. I knew I was absolutely ruined for anyone else and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Tilting her chin up with the tip of my finger as it wobbles at my confession, I smile, “Say something, darlin’.”

“I love you, too.” Now it’s my turn to go wholly still. “I knew from the moment I saw you I’d never be the same, I was yours-”

I couldn’t wait another second, I closed the minuscule gap between our mouths to seal these confessions. I love her and she loves me. Me.

Tilting her head back slightly as I cradle her, I take my cue to deepen the kiss, to pull her closer carefully. Groaning into her mouth, fuck I can’t get enough of her. Trailing kisses down her jawline as she tips her head to the side for much needed air, her gasps drive me to lift her onto my desk.

“Jaz…” her breathy plea of my nickname freezes me, panic seizing my actions.

“I am a gentleman, but only just barely.” My voice is gravel in my own ears, breathed down the slender column of her throat.

A shiver from her causes me to clench my jaw and attempt to gather myself.

“Maybe I don’t want a gentleman right now.” Her whisper damns me, it fucking sets me on fire.

A slamming door downstairs straightens my spine and my hands abandon the exploration of her. Fuck, my family’s timing couldn’t be better, but also worse.

“Honey, we’re home!” Emmett’s booming voice echoes up the stairs and immediately I know he knows, he can probably smell it.

Huffing, I help her regain her footing and straighten her clothes from the rumpled mess my hands made of it. I also take half a thought to smooth her arousal, a damn shame-but a necessity if we’re to face my siblings for the rest of the evening.

“Fucking Emmett.” Her frustration draws a chuckle from me as we make our way downstairs.

“I heard that!” My brother’s response causes her to roll her eyes at me playfully and I shake my head, my heart weighing much fuller in my chest as she plucks its invisible strings with her shit-eating grin.

Next

Taglist part 1:

@aoi-targaryen @Min-jianhyung @pbbsl @timelordhunterandmysterysolver @sheerangermany @clearwater-hoe @Blackbluerose666 @ivy-plays @random-human02 @delightfulbluebirdstarlight @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @gaymazinglula @l3ejm @angelfuzzy2 @losa12308 @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @flyawayprincess @ropickle @catbusloki @deviat3dsn0wf0x @lovesanimals0000 @unrevived @h-naec @cutesnakemum @zudooms @itsmytimetoodream @stinkii-boii @acoolnight @anothercoffeeblogx @irishblend10 @from-now-on-im-switzerland @kyraslife2 @naolvshan @kiiwiigii @rosedpetal @kiaraandrea @foolsgoldxo @heartfilia01 @azuredgalaxies @geekysimmerthings @graciereads @ramen-girl-2424 @0hmydekiru @creeqvealley @Cherriebat @whichwitchisthebitch @dragon-rider-with-a-book @secretfairytailpetscookie @psychobitchsthings

#jasper hale x reader #jasper hale fanfiction #redamancy series #jasper hale x female!reader #twilight fanfiction #jasper whitlock hale #twilight #bless-my-demons #jasper hale #female reader insert

[spacesodaa]

Hi there! I saw that you accept requests! So, I was thinking about Wriothesley having a special person who is basically a sunshine, who loves nature, seeing the sky, singing and basically being a darling, but who has experienced very traumatic situations. But despite this they don't lose their innocence and warm smile.

I would love to read something like that.

Thank you, and take care!

Helooo, this sounds absolutely adorable! I will do my best!

Sorry if this took a bit long, I hope you like it ^^

Wriothesley x Reader - Brighter Than The Sun

Characters: Wriothesley, Reader

Summary: Reader is a little sunshine and Wrio is down BAD

Warning: unadulterated fluff bro

A/N: I posted this without text by mistake lmao

Wriothesley sighed heavily as he read the same sentence for the third time. He had been on the same stack of papers for about an hour with scarce results. He couldn't seem to focus and the more he willed the clock to go faster the slower the hands seemed to move. Tea break felt ages away.

He let his head fall into the desk with a thick thud and groaned in frustration. What was this? The fourth break he took? Today there seemed to be no way to get his work done.

Oh how he wished he could hear you sing, maybe it would reset his brain. Unfortunately for him you had gone out to the court of fontaine to run some errands, his valiant attempts to keep you glued to him in bed proved to be futile.

Sometimes he struggled to believe you were real and right at his side. You always had a soft smile on your face, eyes shining. To him your eyes weren't the only part of you that shone, in fact he saw all of you as a star. You went about your day shining with the force of a thousand suns, comforting whoever was around you simply with your reassuring presence. The first time he had experienced this quality of yours was also the first time he had met you. He was having a bad day and he was this close to punching whoever rubbed him the wrong way first, you on the other hand were happily chatting with a friend of yours at the reception desk. You didn't belong there, instead having come to visit said friend at her new job. Hell he wouldn't believe you belonged in the fortress even if he saw you commit a crime with his own eyes.

The receptionist had gone in fight or flight mode as soon as she had seen him, stammering a greeting. You turned and met his gaze, following with a polite greeting and that warm smile of yours. There wasn't any fear in your shiny eyes, nor pity for him being there for that matter. Your relaxed demeanor intrigued him, he was used to people feeling tense around him, yet you didn't seem to be. You then asked him about the fortress, roping him into a conversation he didn't think he needed. He realized at the end of it, that he was much calmer than before and even though the conversation was one he had had many times, he felt refreshed.

Later he had summoned the courage to ask the receptionist about you and the rest became history. He still looked back fondly to that day, as he did with every memory he had of you. There was this warmth about you and everything you did, he simply couldn't get enough of it. It wasn't surprising he had fallen head over heels for you. You had accepted every part of him without question, even the darkest corners, so much so, that your light had made those corners a little less daunting. What had surprised him though, was that you yourself had dark corners. He struggled to believe someone who shone so brightly as you did, had such big of a baggage to carry around.

Later he had witnessed when your light dimmed as you cried in his arms about the same reoccurring nightmare, about all the blood you had seen spilled, about the fear you had faced. Yet even if dimmed, you never stopped shining.

A knock at the door made him almost jump out of his chair. He was so engrossed in the details of your radiant face in his mind that he had gotten distracted. Wriothesley sighed yet again. He figured he couldn't get more distracted than this at that point so he answered.

"Come in" he absentmindedly ordered the stack of papers on his desk, swearing to himself he would get to them at some point.

What he hadn't expected, was for you to show up into his office, at least not at this hour.

"Wriooo" you sang cheerfully as you skipped towards his desk with your hands behind your back.

"Welcome back, I wasn't expecting you to be back so early" he got up from his chair, maybe a little too eagery, pulling an amused chuckle out of you.

"I finished all my commissions" you said "missed me?"

"Of course I did" he admitted and pulled you in for a hug. You responded right away, burying your head in his sculpted chest. When his muscles were at rest he made a damn good pillow and you loved it.

"I brought you something!" You beamed, letting him go briefly to hand hin a small green bag "I hope you don't have this one yet"

"Thank you darling" he took the bag from your hands and pressed a kiss to your cheek, followed by one on your lips. You hummed contently in response.

"Well, lucky for you I don't have this tea yet. I've actually wanted to order this for some time" Wriothesley studied the tea bag intently "how about an early tea break? I want to try this with you" he took your hand in his and brought it to his lips, gently kissing your knuckles.

"Absolutely, I've also brought pastries!" You gestured to a colorful paper bag you had left by the door when entering.

"Oh how lost I would be without you" the duke said in a rather dramatic tone.

"I bet" you poked at his nose, grinning.

Your light was almost blinding. Nonetheless he would still keep staring at his sun even if it blinded him.

#wriothesley x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin drabbles #genshin impact x reader #wriothesely genshin #genshin fluff

[amaranthine-enihtnarama]

Is This Desire? (Feyd Rautha x reader)

u know I had to tap in 🤭. reader is a noblewoman who has undergone bene gesserit training, there IS smut, there IS sexual tension, there ARE mind games, there IS dubcon (but not really 😉); quote found on Pinterest. None of the media besides the writing belongs to me, including quotes used at the beginning.

Happy Sunday 🤭 finally made it. Strong trigger warning for people sensitive to dub-con situations. There is a significant push and pull dynamic, be mindful of your peace.

Feyd Rautha Harkonnen and Tii Sanura Sur-Kar have been lifelong friends since the day they were betrothed as children—-a mutual coldness in the eyes inspired respect and appreciation between the two kindred spirits. On the day of the na-Baron’s coming of age, however, simmering tensions between the pair rise to an all-consuming firestorm as the young Baron attempts to finally act on the desires he has harbored for her, but there is a significant challenge: how he can manage to break past her impenetrable composure; the dispassionate mask of his treasured Bene Gesserit master?

the lovers.

“Love is an ancient force, one that served in its day but is no longer essential for the survival of the species.” -Bene Gesserit Axiom

***

“Do you truly think you could redeem such a beast?”

She smiled. “I know, I am allowing my affections cloud my judgment. But allow me an opportunity before his fate is sealed, Reverend Mother.”

The older woman stared her down through the sheer fabric cloaking her face. “You are a very sharp mind, but your youth may sway you against wiser judgment.”

The young sister smiled. “I will not lose sight of our mission, do not worry. I only wish to test a hypothesis.”

“Be wary of overextending yourself.”

“I would not shame you with such folly. I have no intention of losing control.”

After this, the Reverend Mother Superior was silent, ending the discussion. The Duchess rose, gave a respectful incline of her head, and departed.

No, she would not lose control. They had come much, much too far.

It was simply a mere experiment—-too much risk, and she would end it without hesitation.

She only hoped she wouldn’t have to.

***

Tii Sanura Sur-Kar ran through the subconscious of the na-Baron like a mantra. A dangerous liability, he knew, but considering it was the name of his bride, it was an indulgence he willingly succumbed to at every turn. It was like song, like poetry to him, neither of which he cared for terribly but she adored—if she was truly capable of such a feeling. His betrothed was a shrewd, charming woman. Never terribly moved nor affected, never troubled nor wanting. It hadn’t always been that way, but once she underwent her Bene Gesserit training, the risk-taking, jubilant playmate he knew as a child became a confounding and mysterious woman as the years passed. He was vexed by it initially; her disinterest towards what had once thrilled her, her fixation on scriptures and disciplines, her strangely hypnotic eyes, but he managed to adjust over time. After all, she was a noblewoman with duties and ambitions of her own, not a pet.

Still, she was his. The knowledge that she could not slip through his fingers sated his dissatisfaction with her frigidity. As the years passed, he managed to learn her ways. He was the only one who elicited a smile from her pursed, pillowy lips. He was the only one who could freely request her presence and, eventually, he was the only one—in the whole of the empire, he suspected—that could see the brief cracks in her sagelike mask. He experimented with the pressure points he could catch glimpses of. There was some satisfaction in pulling out the things she was so resolute to conceal from the world around them, to rouse moments of amusement, surprise (a rarity), or, his favorite, timidity.

He lost out on the last one a couple years ago, though, when he had pushed too far during a sparring match, and she surrendered too freely. Her eyes miraculously sparked with the horror of an uncontrollable and unexpected emotion. He felt it for a moment then—the way he could ignite her desire, the way she softened all over beneath his strength. The warmth of her breath, the softness of her skin; he had gotten a taste of it and had needed more ever since.

Thoughts for another time.

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen knew how badly his future bride desired him. And vice-versa. It made Tii Sanura retreat as they grew older: more distance, more sarcastic jabs and intellectual pretensions. She knew him well enough to do exactly what would make him tick, to repel the low hum of want that had grown strong enough to overwhelm any other potential experiences they could’ve shared. There had been a time where they had come to an agreement of tentative friendship, but those days were burned to ash under the heat that dared to surface whenever the two were together.

The closer they got to coming of age the more her visits changed. She took longer to come by, and when she was there, she was terse with him if he could get her to speak. In all fairness, though, they did have chaperones since the sparring mishap. She was undoubtedly being discreet about whatever she felt about him, but he knew that despite all the suitors that attempted to sweep her away from him, he had secured her interest. Only he could tell, as difficult a riddle it was to continuously decode. The difficulty became less infuriating as he slowly understood the game being played—he kept testing her resolve and she kept coming back to prove it. The satisfaction he got from poking at her weaknesses barely rivaled hers from besting them. It was almost heartwarming if either of them possessed such a silly thing: he was still her favorite sparring partner.

Tii Sanura had not visited in this year, and it was an important one. The time of his coming of age and hers, the time of their union. He anticipated her usual distance, but not total silence. He tried to distract himself from the unpleasant feeling it caused but there was no cure on Geidi Prime to salve the absence of her silvery voice and sweet perfumes. His pets sufficed for more immediate needs, but there was no comparison. It troubled and fascinated him, the attachment he had to her. He would’ve rid himself of it if not for the fact she still sent him letters, and the fact she could not truly discard him like the rest fueled his want, his need, his hunger to claim his prize. His woman; his wife.

He would not show mercy on this day.

It was all that was truly on his mind as the slave women did their painting on his torso and he inspected his new blades. She would be there, she would be watching him in the arena, and she would be with him tonight afterward. Feyd intended to make the most of such ripe opportunities.

The games were amusing enough, but it was time for them to end. He had spent months envisioning it, the way he would finally best her, conquer her. The anticipation set his teeth on edge so badly it took all of his willpower to not run through slaves and servants like tissue paper. He would not lose his cool, he would adopt the discipline of his beloved, he told himself. He would not imagine ravaging her powerful, lithe frame, bruising her soft brown flesh, envisioning the pain and ecstasy he would conjure upon her unmoved, delicate face. He wouldn’t lose himself. He wouldn’t.

Not if he was going to finally make her do the same.

***

Tii Sanura was bored, as always. She was always amazed by how stupid everyone had to be to not tell the woman she presented them was a fiction. Did they not find her razor-sharp mind the slightest bit incongruent with the mask of a young noblewoman dutifully awaiting her marriage, tastefully enthused to kindly engage with anybody, who always had the perfect compliment and the most ego-stroking remark? Did they not see the void behind the artificial warmth in her gaze? Did they truly think every braindead comment they made amused her?

Of course not, save for a few pitiful monkeys, but the desire to believe the myth and participate bored her all the same. She had forced it into a microscopic container by now, but part of her still longed for the days of swimming naked in the swelling river during the rainy springs in Daquan, riding horses, hours of archery and combat training, studying the history of her ancestors, dressing up in her mother’s priceless gowns and traversing across the oasis-laden desert that surrounded their palace, much to her always gratifying horror. Oh, the tragedies of womanhood.

She was almost perfect. Almost. It made her want to dig her nails into her palms with frustration. The only source of weakness that remained was her betrothed. No matter how she wanted to or tried, the memories, her favoring of him would not fade away like the rest of her old emotions. She could not stay away no matter how much it infuriated her, humiliated her to her sisters. The little machine and her crush, they would tease her. It made her want to smear the walls and floors with their blood, the sounds of their smug tones and the superior air they held around her. It made her furious with her parents for not keeping her and Feyd separate in their youth. Now she had a soft spot in her armor, and the worst part is how he knew.

He provoked her, the bastard. He studied her every time they were together to the point where her only solution was to stop visiting so much. The only company in the galaxy she could stand was now her greatest vex. Just her luck.

The roaring of the crowd in the arena was deafening to her. She hated it, the sounds of fools cheering for their annual performance, for their na-Baron’s holy birthday. She could only imagine how small the Harkonnens’ subjects’ brains had to be to think God was anywhere near this place.

Despite the charade of his arena performance, it wasn’t a detractor from her future husband’s proficiency in combat. His strength was obvious, from the gradual sophistication of his movements, the calculation of his ink black stare…the way his body sculpted overtime to…distressing perfection. Weary of her sisters sensing where her thoughts wandered, she dismissed the thoughts as quickly as they came, calmly raising her binoculars to get a better view of the arena.

There was no relief: he was walking out into the center.

The cheers grew so loud they hurt her ears. Her body became rigid as she watched how he stalked onto the arena, claiming the praise and attention so readily offered to him. She spied the strength of his taut arms, his hands that held those blades of his with such natural finesse. He was a perfected killer, through and through. She stifled the sensation that dared to conjure in her stomach with a hint of spite. He was well enough in comparison to a Harkonnen, but he had room for improvement, she thought to herself, cooling down. But then, he did the absolutely unthinkable.

Her mouth dried as his head smoothly turned to look up at her and her Bene Gesserit sisters, blue eyes daring to twinkle something disastrously humiliating as they somehow fixed onto her from an impossible distance. He smiled and kissed one of his blades in gesture to her, then turned his attention to his uncle, bowing deferentially. It pleased the crowd greatly, and Tii Sanura wondered if these arena visits would one day fully strip her hearing abilities away as sisters chattered amongst themselves with a flat amusement Tii Sanura could not stand, but kept from feeling resentment towards. Such a small attempt to ruffle her golden feathers would not succeed. She watched on, her blood pressure stabilizing from its slight disturbance.

The bastard. He never bored her.

The pageant went on routinely enough; two hulking, delirious men stumbled out into the arena—the last of the House of Atreides. The name made the base of her spine tingle inexplicably. Perhaps it is her weakness of favor creeping up again, she would wonder; the thought of her childhood friend, his parents, Duncan Idaho and Gurney Haleck swept away in a harrowing night of fire and blood made her blood chill slightly. Perhaps it was the fragility of power in such a bloodthirsty imperial court; it often haunted her these days, knowing that the lives of her parents, her younger brothers, her ladies in waiting, herself, hung in such a precarious and delicate balance. Knowing the treachery of her near Uncle-in-law. The guarantees of disaster from moments of weakness. All the more reason to be perfect. One slip up, one ignorant action, and she could lose control of the game she was playing.

Still, those weren’t the answers, she knew that. It was something deeper. Something much more primal, animal. Like rats would escape pirate ships in those faraway ancient years. It felt wrong in a real way. But she didn’t let this trouble hover over her long. Only at night, in bed, did she contemplate the tension within her body. She knew it was not fear, so what was it? Perhaps if she could feel more she would know.

The arena’s cheers spiked in volume and Tii Sanura blinked, returning to what was conspiring beneath her. Feyd made easy work of the two drugged men, much to the delight of the ravenous crowds, but one still stood. And she meant that, too—he was standing. He was upright, alert and sharp. Her spine straightened in interest. Finally. Something interesting.

The two men squabbled briefly until Feyd realized the situation his uncle had placed him in. To anyone but Tii Sanura’s surprise and thrill, he removed his shield with a beaming expression. Her skin prickled slightly at the memory the motion conjured. When she came too close—much, much too close. It is agreeable for a Bene Gesserit to be able care for her partner, but what she felt that day was intolerable. The heavy burden of it on her sweat-slick chest, skin glistening with sweat and a few smears of blood, their muscles contracting and rippling as they fought each other with a heat that didn’t come from competition or bloodlust. Desire.

The word made her think of shuddering. There could be nothing more shameful, certainly. Especially for her kind—excellence was the only option, mastery was her only aim—her mother would have thought her a braindead whore if she had seen her that day. It almost made her think of feeling ashamed, but she only felt disgusted at her own laziness. It would never happen again.

Another swell of cheers. Tii Sanura left her mind again and focused on the battle beneath her—Feyd Rautha was at the mercy of his opponent’s blade, the point staring him directly in his eyes. She knew that he could only be laughing, and just to prove her point his blackened smile bloomed across his face. The man struggled against Feyd Rautha’a grip on the blade, trying to deal the finishing blow, but Tii Sanura knew her betrothed was well-equipped to handle such a minor threat. This was mere play to him. In an instant he had turned the blade onto the final member of House Atreides, sinking it into his chest.

She held back the sensation she felt watching it, the blade piercing her, imagining the heat of Feyd Rautha’s enthralling stare as he watched the life fade from his opponent. The man crumbled, and Feyd dropped him to the ground. He turned to his audience, raising his blade in victory. More roaring, almost like the oceans of Caladan themselves. She could hear their roaring. She could hear their ghosts.

He met her eyes again. She remained unfazed as she held it. He smiled slowly; it was not the same one as before. She knew that look, when she would politely excuse herself when he was getting a bit too touchy with one of his concubines—pets, he’d call them—and the air sparked with carnal heat.

Hunger. He was hungry. And he wasn’t looking anywhere else but her.

The sister closest to her jested softly. “It seems your betrothed is ready for you, Duchess Sanura.”

“He always looks like a dog in heat,” she cooly remarked, “There is no need to jump to such conclusions.”

Another one spoke again, Lady Margot Fenring, one she preferred out of her sisters, aside from the Reverend Mother Superior herself. She smiled bemusedly, eyeing her with a knowing that made Tii Sanura simultaneously relieved and discomforted.

“I hope you brought something for him to feast on, Duchess Sanura, if you do not want to be the one he devours.”

She allowed herself a bemused chuckle. “A fair assessment, I admit…”

She rose from her seat, undaunted by his dark stare. She slowly cocked her head, a small smirk quirking the corner of her mouth upright, forming a familiar wrinkle in her cheek and exposing her dimples. The arena roared with cheers at the interaction.

“I can assure you; he’s not the only rabid dog I’ve tamed. There will be no devouring.”

“You speak with the confidence of a girl, sister,” she warned.

The Duchess’s smile twitched into something genuine as she turned to look at her.

“He is a mere boy, sister. I have faced much worse than Feyd Rautha Harkonnen.”

“Worse,” Lady Fenring remarked quietly, “I will must admit, the thought of worse troubles one deeply.”

A soft laugh left Tii Sanura’s lips like a breath. “Wise words, I cannot disagree.”

She turned back to the arena. Feyd was gone, with only bodies and pandemonium left in his wake.

He certainly never bored her.

***

They never strayed from their ritual, no matter how much time had passed. Feyd-Rautha waited patiently in his betrothed’s quarters, eyeing the golden box sat in the center of her bed from a seat in the corner of the room.

She was taking a bit long.

He tapped his fingers against the metal armrest with some annoyance but he would keep his cool; she wasn’t going to toy with him this time. His mind wandered to the events of the arena—her icy smirk, her leisurely movements. The people of Daquan were so fascinating in their complete and utter absence of desire, of urgency. Understandable for a people that have hailed from paradise, but it still fascinated and confounded the Harkonnen.

They were certainly a high-achieving people, a quality clearly displayed in Tii Sanura. With no lack nor sense of imperial ambition, her people tended towards scholarly, military, artistic or spiritual pursuits—the level of wealth on their planet was immeasurable to anyone who had never seen it, alien to those who did not grow up in such sheer opulence. The Sur-Kar were among the eldest of the great families; their dynasty serving critical elements to the foundation of the empire of today—the first planet to possess Spice, although not nearly as potent or abundant as Arrakis. They were a sister planet, in fact, and although the differences in culture and landscape were obvious, they possessed the same treacherous deserts deeper in the Southeast of the planet—in images, the deep desert bloomed out like a scar.

Feyd broke out of his thoughts and let out a heavy sigh through his nose. Instead of pondering Tii Sanura’s planet, it would be preferable to have the woman herself before him.

As if she had heard his thoughts, she entered through the hissing doors, her shoulders far more relaxed than they should’ve been. She let out a heaving sigh of her own, starting to remove her many rich golden shawls and copper-colored garbs. He watched eagerly, unsure if she knew he was there, but he certainly wasn’t going to call attention to himself now. He took in the golden inscriptions on her dark brown skin with all of the awe his cold black heart could manage. She didn’t undress, much to his dissatisfaction, but his eyes feasted with on her bared arms and shoulders, glistening with golden passages from the Daquani’s various ancient scriptures—there were many to give strength, tenacity, to cool the mind and spirit, to bring fortune and blessings, protections, the like. Superstitions that were outdated in a world where chance had been long buried.

“Are you ignoring me, or have you forgotten how we meet,” he asked, gravelly voice creeping along the walls towards her.

She stopped, then slowly turned around. Her golden makeup shimmered on her eyelids, harmonizing with the undertones in the high apples of her cheeks. She glowed like a precious jewel. No matter who he crossed paths with, Tii Sanura was the most beautiful woman he had ever known. He would say across the galaxy, if it wasn’t such a foolishly sentimental thing to say. She would throw such a silly compliment back into his face with blasé amusement. Her dark, void-like eyes slowly came to life as a small smile formed upon her lips. He kept his cool resolve.

“Perhaps I do not care either way, My Lord na-Baron.”

He smiled in return, pleased with the biting humor in her tone.

“The only trick you couldn’t play on me is convincing me of such a lie.”

Her mouth barely twitched into a growing smile before she corrected her face and rolled her eyes.

“Oh dear, I see the rumored hereditary madness has set in. Just as I feared.”

He let the insult roll off of his back like water as he slowly rose from his seat, stalking towards her like one of those giant cats from her planet. She had one as a pet, he recalled. He spied the sketches she had drawn in a small pocketbook she used to carry with her when they were younger—he wasn’t sure what it was for—her mood had always improved after flipping through its pages.

“It’s been so long since you’ve visited. Are you afraid?”

Her face softened in amusement. “Yes. I am quite terrified. I’m trembling as we speak.”

“You misunderstand what I refer to.”

She frowned at him as she meticulously folded her shawls and scarves, the brushed past him to set them down in the very chair he had sat on.

“Is there something I’m not aware of?”

“Today is the day we are both of age,” he said, holding back any potential hint of emotion from the phrase, “Our marriage is imminent.”

She didn’t display any hint of being affected, but only nodded. “Hm. Yes, I know. Why would this scare me, exactly? I know everything there is to know about you. I doubt I will have any ugly surprises any other poor noblewoman would have in my place.”

Feyd Rautha studied her closely. She didn’t give it away, but she was bluffing. He could feel it.

“No bridal nerves,” he poked, gaze searingly meandering across her face.

She laughed, brushing past him again and placing a knee on the bed, leaning over to grab the golden box. “What, do you think I’ve been twirling my hair and kicking my feet as I fantasize about the wedding with my ladies in waiting? Or perhaps plucking petals off of flowers in the night, biting my nails down to the cuticle?“

She turned to face him, her voice lifting to a mocking octave. “He loves me, he loves me not…”

She handed him the box, her expression serene and friendly. “I know what is in store. Here.”

He took the box, breaking his intense stare on her and sliding it open. It moved with the unsurprising weight of solid gold—the wealth of these people was borderline obscene.

Within the midsize box was a strange red fruit and an ivory hilted knife, dotted with gemstones of a deep and bloody red hue. He opted to take the knife first—a butterfly knife, upon closer inspection. A hint of a smile formed on his lips, she remembered what he asked her for the last time they’d met; it had been so long even he’d forgotten. In combat, it was obviously useless; he had asked for the gift with the hidden intention of having something equally as tangible as her when she was absent, with the hope she would stop haunting his thoughts if there was a reminder of her readily at his fingertips instead of memories and dreams.

Her eyes held a satisfied glint at his obvious pleasure. “Do you like your birthday gift?”

He looked to her, a devilish grin forming on his face. “Is this all?”

She ignored his suggestive remark with annoyance. “I pray to the gods one day you will manage to finally utter the words thank you.”

“I appreciate this, Tii-Tii.”

She seemed to stiffen a bit at the sound of her nickname, and she broke her gaze from his, moving away.

“Get out, I’m going to change.”

His grin widened playfully. “Certainly you still don’t intend to feign decency now; I am your husband, after all.”

She let out a scoff. “Near husband. I’m not asking again.”

Tii Sanura was the only woman he obeyed.

It didn’t take long for her to have changed and join him in the hall. She refused the assistance of their slaves or servants, insisting on dressing and bathing on her own. He suspected her being wary of constant eyes, but the reason for such a reason wasn’t very clear. He later came to the much more obvious conclusion that she was disgusted by them.

Ever modest, she looked more Bene Gesserit than before in the black gown she had put on: long sleeves that poured past her hands, a hood that cloaked her entire head and face from unwanted view. Of course, the fabric shimmered, as did everything from Daquan. Beauty and Tii Sanura did not wander far from one another. The dress was not stingy with her figure, and Feyd took in the curve of her hips with painfully restrained fervor. He looked away when she eyed him under the glowing light that hovered overhead between them. She brandished the fruit from her sleeve, barely containing it in her palm.

“We’ll need a bowl, you eat the seeds.”

He made a face. “You want me to chew on seeds?”

“I thought you were of age,” she chided, “You whine like a child.”

He shot her a look, and she raised her eyebrows an inch or two, eyes glistening with humor. She loved to annoy him when they were left alone together.

“So sensitive all of the sudden! Perhaps I do need to visit more often, these beaten dogs of yours coddle you.”

“It’s respect,” he corrected with some edge, “At some point you will actually need to show it to your husband.”

She only smiled more, knowing his bluffs of retribution. “Delicate baby boy.”

His eyes lingered on her mouth for a moment, making him slow down their pace to his quarters. Feyd’s jaw clenched as a vision of putting her in her place against the wall burned through his mind. He fought it as quickly as it had come, shaking his head with a slight chuckle as he broke his hot stare. By the time it passed, she had stopped her smiling and was looking away from him, having clearly gleaned what had crossed his mind. The weight of their silence made them start walking again—perhaps sharing the hope of escaping it, even for a brief moment of relief.

He cleared his throat, and the collar of his shirt suddenly felt tight, making it hard to swallow. She tossed the fruit in the air as they winded through the halls of the Harkonnens’ underworld palace, the occasional flashes of white light from the fireworks giving brief reprise from the heavy shadows around them. So much of it felt like a strange dream to Tii Sanura, with all of the darkness and high, shadowy ceilings. She could never get used to this strange, colorless planet. At home, the rich golden suns shone through every window and crevice, kissing her people’s brown skin of various shades. A far cry from the albino appearance of Harkonnens under their black sun.

She eyed Feyd-Rautha discreetly—when they first met on Geidi Prime, she was convinced her betrothed was a ghost. It was one of the few frights he had ever gotten over on her. Before her training, he could sneak up on her and surprise her, getting a laugh out of her high-pitched squeak, but those days had passed. But, once they had made it inside, she saw the fine quality of his features, the pleasing peach-colored hue of his pale skin. His eyes went from terrifying pools of ink to a keen soft blue stare, and soon she felt luckier than most of her peers with the looks of her betrothed. If directly asked (and with enough honey wine), Tii Sanura could not lie about the fact that her betrothed possessed beautiful qualities about his appearance. The older they got, the more he grew into them and the more handsome he had been becoming. It made the idea of intimacy less tolerable and more intriguing.

He felt her stare and looked at her from the corner of his eye, making her look away. She shoved the feelings blooming in her stomach into the smallest box she could and willed it away.

“You still have no qualms about marrying me,” he questioned, gaze now fixed on her hood.

“No, of course not. You’re the only person I can barely stand out of the great houses. Everyone else is just too stupid. I’d end up killing him one way or another—gods forbid such an animal would ever try to touch me, it would be more messy than my parents would be able to overlook.”

His ears perked, and a smile played on his lips. “And if I were to touch you?”

“You have touched me,” she replied loftily, “Or have you blocked out the memories of me beating you into a pulp to salvage your pride?”

She looked up at him with a wicked glint in her eye, eager to pounce on an opportunity to shift the mood to something else. Feyd stole a glance at the expression, then scoffed lightly.

He had half a mind to grab her, hold her down, and have his way with her just to see how she reacted. He knew better than to force himself onto her—he’d be kissing his gravestone if he tried—that wouldn’t bring him the pleasure he sought. She wanted him, he knew this. Her humiliated surrender to her need was what he truly hungered for. He wanted the power to unravel her.

She sighed, tossing the fruit again. He started to think of how he was going to begin as they neared his quarters, passing the guards, who Tii Sanura pointedly ignored.

His pets rose in excitement as he entered, but then retreated at his companion’s presence, giving defiant black-eyed stares. Her gaze shifted to them, hiding her expression from his face, and within mere moments they had retreated to the same corner as the slaves. He didn’t know when or how, but she had made her dislike of them very obvious when they were teenagers. He had to replace one of them in the aftermath of this dislike being shown, but never said she was jealous. She didn’t even act particularly troubled by them, but she was clearly revolted by their existence, and, he suspected, their purpose for their na-Baron. After her training with the Bene Gesserit the flashes of proof that she claimed him as he did were resigned to memories. But he didn’t believe they had vanished. Her nose wrinkled slightly in pointed distaste but she addressed Feyd cooly.

“Have you forgotten your manners? You didn’t have your quarters cleaned for your betrothed’s visit?”

He smiled at her, amused by her inexplicable temperance. “Do my darlings still bother you, Tii-Tii?”

“Remove them,” she commanded immediately, eyes fixed on the bald servant woman. “Take them for a walk, or whatever those things do.”

The woman straightened up from cowering under her haunting gaze, ushering the three women from their position and leaving the room. Her eyes moved to the servants cowering in various corners, eyeing her warily.

“You may leave,” she told them.

They quickly filed out, heads bowed and shoulders slumped. Feyd almost wanted to laugh, but knew better than to provoke her—an incensed Tii Sanura with mind control abilities was more dangerous than any atomic arsenal that could be launched at him.

He was glad to have such a woman as his wife.

She clicked her tongue, shaking her head as she lowered her hood, face glowing softly in the low, sparse light of the na-Baron’s room. He watched her with barely cloaked intrigue, freeing his throat from his collar as he moved towards her with a light smirk. She seemed oblivious to his demeanor as she continued to reprimand him.

“I’m not surprised by the barbarism your relatives display, but I do expect some semblance of class from my husband.”

“Near husband,” he corrected, stalking up behind her and placing his hand on the small of her back, “Or does your jealousy make you forget?”

She chuckled, moving away from his touch unceremoniously. “I am not jealous of filth. I am tolerant of your Harkonnen ways, but it is unsightly. Hopefully spending time in my court will help refine some of your rougher edges…although I’m not holding onto much.”

He watched with sharp eyes as she took a bowl off of a sleek black table, eyed it, and, after deciding it was clean enough, sat down on his bed and made a gesture for him to sit with her. Gladly.

“You know my pets eat out of these,” he lied, eager to tease a reaction out of her.

“Not yet, obviously,” she dismissed, “Whatever poor bastard’s their lunch just got a few more hours.”

She brandished a small black knife out of her sleeve and handed it to him with a sigh. He chuckled, but took the knife as she carefully undid the barely visible labyrinth of fastened clips and buttons that had apparently held her gown together. He watched her with interest as he sliced the fruit.

“Too lazy?”

“Too expensive,” she clarified, gesturing to her outfit with some annoyance, “I swear, my mother’s trying to drown me in fabric...”

The hood and sleeves were simply elements of a cloak that covered her actual outfit. Feyd was feeling his appetite sharpen by the second. It would prove modest to anyone else, with loose, flowing trousers and a woolen, long-sleeved tunic, but for the Daquani, especially one of her standing, he knew that what he was seeing before him was absolutely not for anyone else’s eyes but his. It was just then he observed her braids had been taken down from their elaborate updo she had at the arena—when, he didn’t know—as they gently spilled over her shoulders and framed her foxlike face. She sighed again, watching him skillfully remove each juicy seed from the fruit’s pale flesh.

“You should squeeze it,” she told him casually, curling her legs up next to her onto the bed, “The seeds will fall out.”

He paused, glancing up at her serene, delicate face before turning the fruit over and squeezing it firmly. Tii Sanura watched his hand contract around it, the seeds spilling out into the bowl as he crushed it in his grip. She felt it again; the heat that set her ablaze from head to toe the final time they’d sparred. It had been then, when he had her on the ground, the flat of his blade pressed against the hot pulse that flowed down her neck, that same hand pinning her wrist to the ground with iron-like strength as their faces brushed dangerously against each other, that she realized they were becoming a man and a woman intended to be married and no longer the youthful partners in crime she could easily maintain a satisfactory internal distance from. It was then she became aware of a new weakness, one that caught her by surprise—she never thought it possible to see him in such a way, but there she’d been, flushed in an immeasurable amount of places, wanting to feel more than his blade against her skin.

There was not a feeling more taxing, more tenacious than desire. She could feel it blooming in her stomach with dread that she put all her will into tempering. His eyes were boring into her in a way that made her want to run away, retreat, but she refused to show such a pathetic display of weakness. He managed to get all of the seeds out, discarding the fruit out into the hall where the servants remained, flinching at his motion before he returned to her, sliding both sides of the blade along his tongue to lick off the juice. She stole a brief glance at the motion, but remained unaffected, her mask solid.

“Hm; what is this?”

“My uncle gifted me some recreated seeds they made in his laboratory. Pomegranate is what they called it.”

“Strange name.”

“All dead languages sound strange if you don’t put down your knives long enough to study them,” she subtly reprimanded.

A soft laugh passed through his nose as he returned to her side on the foot of his silken-sheeted bed.

“Tii-Tii, aren’t women from your planet meant to be less…annoying?”

“I wish I could ask the same about the men from yours.”

The juice of the pomegranate seeds gradually coated their tongues as they chewed on them and continued to make playful jabs at the other.

“I want a pleasant wife,” Feyd proclaimed with the gravity of a command, “A respectful one.”

Obedient was a far-fetched fantasy.

“If you want a pleasant and respectful wife, then you must please and respect her,” she said with the impersonal tone of a proverb, “You must plant seeds to harvest what you desire.”

He eyed her quizzically as she continued eating pomegranate seeds. She didn’t respond to the question in his stare, in fact, she seemed to be avoiding his gaze altogether.

“Tii-Tii,” he began slowly, “It’s unlike you to avoid a subject.”

He watched her shoulders square off with interest. Perhaps he had more leeway over her than he anticipated.

“I don’t—“

“We both know playing coy isn’t a convincing look on you,” he interrupted, a wicked smile forming on his face.

“Whatever you wish to speak about, I will speak on,” she said, “But I must admit I don’t know what you want to discuss.”

“The consummation of our marriage.”

She didn’t miss a beat, tilting her head with a shrug. “Yes, a necessary duty. It will be fulfilled, I will give you heirs. I can guarantee no difficulty in the…process.”

Upon finally meeting her betrothed’s gaze, Tii Sanura fell silent. The heat of his stare was unmistakable, and a shiver went down her spine. This couldn’t happen yet, she thought to herself, no overextending.

“Of course, it will wait until our wedding night,” she clarified, testing the waters of his mood, “Anything beforehand would be improper.”

He didn’t answer her, only took the bowl in his hands and lifted it to her mouth.

“Spit them out.”

Hunger. It was burning off of him so intensely she could feel it against her cheeks, which were growing more flushed by the moment. She stared at him in an oppressively long silence before her eyes shifted away to the floor, then gradually met his again. She was blushing, he realized.

“Feyd, what are you doing?”

Her voice had become much more softer, confused. It made him want to pounce, but that wouldn’t do him any good, not when he was getting her where he wanted her. His silence in response weighed down the air around them with what felt to her like tons—she was cornered and she knew it. There were two options: she could fight him off and swat him away, which would anger him, but he could not resist her Voice’s commands. The other one she dare not think of, lest she forget herself. Slowly, she spit the seeds out, watching him a bit nervously. He couldn’t tell she was nervous, of course, no one could, but he had the air of certainty of a predator closing in on its hunt.

She was not ignorant to the fact her betrothed was dangerous and forceful. He was clever, manipulative, calculating, but ultimately a slave to his desires. The Reverend Mother Superior had appointed the two to one another for just this precise reason: one of the sharpest of her students to serve as a companion and counsel to such a husband, but also to keep him contained. She was well aware of her husband-to-be’s danger, and the genuine hazards that came with the heat of his passions.

Tii Sanura was still confident in her ability to defend herself physically, and she knew he had certainly not forgotten how swiftly she could put him down, even if there proved more struggle in the present day. But no, she realized, Feyd did not intend to force his way through to her at all; he knew he could tug on the threads of physical desire that he intended to conjure within her. She also knew, furthermore, that such a refutation and humiliation of her self-discipline was the gratification he wanted—how long, she couldn’t determine.

She rose from the bed as he set the bowl down. He was watching her like a panther.

“What’s wrong,” he questioned, voice saccharine with humor, “You seem tense.”

“Certainly…you can wait a few more months for an heir—“

“I don’t care about heirs, Sanura. I think that’s obvious enough.”

The way he’d said her name made her want to reconsider her resolve, but involuntary alarm bells went off as he approached her—his expression was so dark, his stare so heavy on her face that it reminded her of his thrill in the arena today, his sharp, powerful movements as he struck down his opponents. Damn him, she thought, he’s even got the propaganda working on me.

She watched as his eyes raked her body, her face, and his aura got shadowy as he stepped towards her. Bad, bad, was all that she could think, this still couldn’t happen yet. They had to be married. She tried to spin up a diversion with her words, but they were beyond unintelligible, let alone obvious lies.

“I am not like you, Feyd. I don’t harbor such desires, I am not…I do not have lustful wants. I cannot…It’s not right.”

He only held a knowing smile in his eyes as he closed in on her slowly, standing over her and peering down with evident satisfaction. She was too prideful to back away from him, no matter how badly she wanted to. Or perhaps she didn’t want to. He couldn’t tell, and Tii Sanura didn’t know herself right now. He held her jaw gently, making her hold his stare. He could feel her pulse racing under her skin, and she felt it quicken the longer she knew he could feel how fast her heartbeat was getting. It wasn’t right, she could only helplessly repeat to herself, it wasn’t time yet, it wasn’t right.

The more it kept repeating, the less it was starting to matter. The heat coming from his body was beginning to eclipse how stupid and reckless such an indulgence would be, what a delicate night this was, and how she had been avoiding this exact situation for the past year. A new voice spoke in response: and what a miserable year it has been.

“I have trouble with that, Sanura,” he said quietly, grazing one of her flushed cheeks with this thumb, “See, I don’t think you’re telling the truth.”

She lied like breathing. “I am.”

He clicked his tongue, smiling slightly. “No, you’re not. I can smell it off of you. I know my wife.”

“Near wife,” she quickly corrected, brushing his hand aside.

Her pedantry annoyed him, it wasn’t going to distract him from his goal. He knew just how to punish her for it.

“My wife all the same,” he countered, “Just as I am yours. Besides, you think I can’t tell your only weakness? You can barely think straight and all I’ve done is touch you a little.”

She was fortuitous in her composure—he knew the embarrassment that must’ve been flushing through her body at his open recognition of her obvious desire. She held his gaze now without his help; she had the strength of a challenge behind her stare. His mocking smile grew.

“I have no weakness. You are too used to the pathetic women on this planet to understand that.”

“Oh, Tii-Tii,” he lamented with a sigh, “You know I hate it when you lie to me. Do you think I’m as stupid as everyone else?”

He stepped towards her, and she stepped back. There was mild surprise in her eyes underneath her cool expression; she didn’t do it consciously. He felt his pulse starting to rise; she was cracking.

“I am not one of your whores,” she told him firmly, “You cannot have your way with me as you please. You must have my agreement.”

He smiled, eagerly backing her against the wall. “My darling beloved, I already have it. Don’t I?”

Her eyes flared with sudden alarm. “Feyd, what in the gods’ name is making you speak in such a way?”

“I am not a boy anymore, Sanura,” he said, eyes tracing her skin before returning to press down on her gaze, “And you are not a naive girl. You are a woman. You are a…beautiful woman.”

“I will not be demeaned in such a way,” she warned.

“It is not my intention to do such a thing.”

“You are cornering me like an animal.”

He smiled. “Are you cornered? Are you admitting such a thing?”

She blinked, then a sudden wave of anger darkened her features. He knew before she opened her mouth that she was about to use her Voice on him—he clasped his hand on her mouth, caging her to the wall with the rest of his body. He watched fire bloom in her eyes with reverence.

“You could not understand the way I have longed for you,” he spoke, voice too soft for anyone else but them to hear, “I would not disrespect a woman such as yourself with harm or force. But I will not wait any longer.”

Her eyes were alarmed and questioning. He willingly gave her the answer.

“I need you.”

His fingers gently grazed the scriptures that were raised on her soft skin, trying not to let his breath tremble—he did not anticipate being the slightest bit nervous to make his advance, but he couldn’t help it, not when it was her.

“You’re getting goosebumps,” he remarked with a grin, “Now why is that?”

He teased the edge of her waistband gently, watching her chest rise and fall in short, tight breaths. She was so much more easier to toy with than he thought, or she held back more needs of her own than he could’ve imagined.

“I’ve always wondered about that day.”

Tii Sanura felt her heart drop in humiliation, but an undeniable thrill shot through her. Part of her feared he’d forgotten, consider what he could be sticking his dick in every night, but here he was, admitting it had sat as heavy on his chest as hers.

“If no one had the opportunity to stop us…what I could’ve done to you…”

His fingers slid between the waistband and her bare skin as he slowly grabbed ahold of her hip, holding her in place. Her breath shuddered involuntarily, sending a jolt of hunger through his body.

“Mm, see? You aren’t made of stone, my jewel. You are a woman.”

She looked away with obvious discomfort and shame, but Feyd wanted to press a bit more before retreating. He didn’t lie, he would not force her.

“I will wait for you to come to me,” he said, leaning in to speak softly into her ear, “I won’t judge you for your needs, Tii-Tii. I know I am the only man to have ever touched you like this.”

They looked at each other, the pretense of denial have shattered, making their gazes wide open, their feelings and intentions obvious, unable to cloak them from the other. Slowly, he removed his hand from her mouth, a bit worried she would immediately lash out with a command.

She did not. She was silent. Her lips trembled.

He glanced between them and her eyes, his body slowly closing in on hers until he knew she wouldn’t resist him. He kissed her, gently, so as not to scare her too much, taking hold of her waist underneath her tunic. Her body was rigid and he could sense the nervous, confused energy coming off of her. He parted his lips from hers, feeling her trembling breath against his face.

“F-Feyd…”

She was stuttering, her mind seemingly incapable of forming a coherent thought as she frowned. Her eyes seemed to take in his face in a new way, but she couldn’t make the two different images fit. He kissed her lips again. Then her cheeks, then, with a flash of weakness, he kissed her neck, and her breath audibly drew.

“Feyd, please…”

I can’t take any more, is what she didn’t say but he knew what she meant. It made his blood get even hotter, rushing straight to his groin. His fingers dug into her skin, perfumed with roses, and he inhaled the scent greedily with a swallow.

“You think I don’t know the ways I make you excited?”

She stiffened as he forced his leg between her thighs and pressed against her, making her exhale loudly and mutter under her breath, closing her eyes and turning her face away.

“You can’t—I must…I can’t.”

She felt the cold blade of his newly gifted knife caress her cheek before he pressed the flat of it against her face to turn her face towards his, making her open her eyes and meet his gaze in challenge.

“Mm, those pretty eyes,” he said softly, trailing the dagger point down her neck, then chest, “You can’t what, my darling?”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not your pet,” she demanded, hand closing around the hilt of a blade tucked in her waistband.

“No, no, of course not,” he soothed, voice rumbling in her ears as he tilted her chin up with his jewel-jilted knife, “But you’re mine, aren’t you?”

Her eyebrows drew together, and Feyd felt a thrill flash through him like a shiver. What will you do now?

He lowered his mouth to hers, eyes burning into hers, challenging her to stop him. She tried to wriggle but it only created friction between their intertwined bodies. Her eyes shut with a grunt at the feeling of heat and a jolt of pleasure blooming between her legs against his thigh. He watched her, tongue grazing his lips.

“You disgust me,” she calmly jabbed at him, trying not to give a reaction.

He chuckled. “Oh. Do I?”

“Get off of me,” she insisted, “I’m only warning you—once…”

Her voice faltered at the feeling of his blade’s tip tracing her bare waist as he pressed harder, his erection pressing against her thigh. It was upsettingly sizeable, just as she remembered when he was on top of her before. She had prayed it was just a trick of her mind.

Fuck, no, no—she couldn’t, definitely not, at least, before they were wed. It was not only beyond taboo for a woman of her standing in Daquan—but a blow against her pride as a Bene Gesserit. She had proven herself to the Reverend Mother, and she was supposed to throw that away, be knocked up under the seductive force of a Harkonnen? It sounded beyond deranged.

“I will not lie with you,” she told him firmly, finding some ground in her desire-afflicted mind. “You cannot force me.”

“Oh, you’re really breaking, aren’t you,” he murmured against her neck, parting his lips afterwards to taste her skin.

Her chest rose high, and her left hand involuntarily grabbed onto him as she pressed her lips together, fighting the soft shudder trying to move through her body. Her right hand had a white knuckle grip on her dagger, but it faltered.

“I will not lie with you before we are wed,” she said, “I will make you stop if I have to.”

He only laughed. “You don’t have to stop me yet, Tii-Tii?”

“Feyd,” she whispered, her tone even. A warning.

“I won’t give you my heir now,” he reassured, “But that doesn’t prevent me from giving you what you need, don’t worry.”

He started to kiss down to her chest, her skin hot against his lips.

“You really do need it, don’t you? I can tell you do, or you wouldn’t be hanging onto me like that.”

The smugness in his voice both made her frustration and desire rise to a breaking point. She parted her lips to speak, but her voice had disappeared as he tossed his blade aside, undoing the top buttons of her tunic so fast she didn’t even get the chance to try and stop him. He still seemed to hold some sense of respect for her sense of modesty; instead of ripping the fabric free from her body, he let it fall slack and open, revealing her torso to him. He took in the new skin, how the golden tattoos adorned her chest, and he couldn’t help but trace the pads of his finger across them, mesmerized.

“I still can’t understand it, what you’ve done to me,” he muttered softly, tracing the tattoos that weaved up her neck. She shivered slightly at the sensation, despite her best efforts.

Her will was starting to crumble as his fingers slid under her waistband, teasing at her undergarment, his touch creeping lower so slowly her legs were becoming weak. He licked atop her collarbone and tasted her skin, her head slowly tilting back as he dragged his tongue across her throat, tasting her pulse, gently grazing his teeth against her flesh. She made a soft sound, the tension in her body softening. Feyd grinned in victory, feeling the tension in her hips slowly loosening. That’s my girl, just as you’re supposed to.

“I can feel your legs shaking,” he said, words coming out in a low hum, “You’re this pathetic, just from my touch?”

Feyd was losing sight of anything beyond this moment. Her weak, bated breath, the moan building in her throat, the heat coming off of her intoxicating skin—it was overwhelming in the most delicious way. Her breath caught as she stared up at him, feeling, with equal parts terror and awe, completely helpless. It was a state of being she never thought possible; she was always far ahead of her peers, enemies, and colleagues. Never, in her lifetime, had anyone put her in such a weak, pliable position—certainly never a man of the Great Houses.

But here he was: her husband, the only one she ever thought close to matching her, doing just that, and about to push beyond it. Her lips slowly parted as her breath evened and he gently brushed his mouth against his. Their eyes fell shut at the mutual feeling.

“Kiss me,” he whispered against her mouth.

The heavy footsteps reached Tii Sanura’s ears before they reached his, and as the doors hissed, she had summoned a surge of strength within her to shove him away and quickly lunge over to the seat her cloak was and tugging it on. He fell back onto his bed in pure disorientation as she fastened a few of the bigger buttons and pulled the hood over her beautiful, precious face. Feyd quickly sat up as he looked from her cloaked figure to his cousin’s hulking frame barging into his quarters. An overwhelming wave of hatred washed over him as he glanced between them both with suspicion and curiosity. The fucking bastard, he seethed to himself.

“Uncle wants you to see him,” Rabban said, “And you, too.”

She ignored him, leaving the room smoothly with her hood up. Feyd watched her slip through his fingers in furious agony. The fucking bastard; he was so close.

“What—“

Feyd’s white-hot glare was enough to make Rabban turn away and leave.

***

Tii Sanura’s aura was dark and heavy as they were all escorted to meet with the Baron. She stalked ahead of the men in silence, her cloaked hands clasped firmly behind her back. Feyd eyed her with a discreet sense of pride while Rabban eyed her warily. Her hooded figure was unsettling to The Beast; there was something about the silence and swiftness of her movements which set his spine straight. This mood troubled him; in the underworld of corridors they travelled, she could easily slip from his sight and do god knows what. He remembered the day she interrupted his training session hours after he had insulted her culture’s customs, and she brutally beat him with just the same coordination and grace as she had in her movements now. Needless to say, he apologized.

Rabban glanced to Feyd, but his cousin’s face, as usual, remained impossible to decipher.

The three entered the quarters of Baron Harkonnen in silence. Instantaneously, Tii Sanura’s entire aura shifted from agitated to perfectly collected. The Baron blew smoke from his hookah, smiling at the sight of her as he reclined in his ink black bath. It took all her fortitude to not allow disgust to creep up in her mind at the unpleasant sight.

“Ah, my dear nice-in-law,” he remarked, “I’m glad you visited today.”

She smiled, briefly inclining her hooded head. “Lord Baron.”

Feyd and Rabban stood by as the Baron Harkonnen and Tii Sanura exchanged disturbing pleasantries with warm smiles.

He chuckled, rising the hookah to his lips. “How did you like your betrothed’s performance today? Did you not find it impressive? He’s improved, no?”

Feyd eyed her as he awaited her answer; she knew better than to refuse the statement or show any degree of affection towards the na-Baron, but there was always a sliver within him that hungered for her approval.

“He has learned well,” she affirmed smoothly.

“Perhaps after the wedding you can test your blade against his again, see for yourself.”

A soft smile briefly spread on her lips as she turned to him, gaze spelling vengeance. Feyd’s gaze tossed the challenge back with a small smirk. Her eyes said something he couldn’t decipher in response. Rabban glanced between the two discreetly, but his cousin still caught his eye, making him avert his gaze. Tii Sanura’s eyebrow rose a quirk as she glanced over at Rabban as well before turning her attention back to the eldest Harkonnen.

“Perhaps indeed, Lord Baron, but at least let him give me heirs first.”

He chuckled lightly, smoke billowing from his lips. Rabban observed the three with split second glances before remaining still, lest their withering stares fix onto him. He never trusted the Daquani girl. She was too clever, too good at saying the perfect things at the perfect time. His time on Arrakis only made him more wary—to come home to a woman so similar to the rats he fought on Arrakis, charming room after room, bathed in gold and glittering jewels, wrapping his Uncle around her finger only spelled trouble to him.

She was skilled at eliciting any paternal affections the soulless Baron Vladmir Harkonnen possessed—her mental acuity and combat skills already made her the bride he’d envisioned for his prized nephew, but her family’s power and prowess bumped her up to god’s personal gift to him. As if to prove his point, the Baron’s expression glowed with the same fondness he looked upon Feyd with—she was already family.

Rabban swallowed his annoyance, and Baron Vladmir’s eyes slid over to him slowly as if he’d sensed it; his expression quickly souring.

“You may leave.”

Anyone who could make Rabban go away in a moment’s notice immediately gained the Duchess’s favor. Feyd watched her back slowly relax as Rabban left, slinking up next to her. She didn’t shift her focus from his Uncle as their hands brushed against each other.

“Now then, enough pleasantries,” the Baron dismissed, “I have spoken with your family this week. I am sure you know Tii.”

She nodded. “Indeed, My Lord.”

“We have agreed that tomorrow is the day you two shall finally unite.”

Tii Sanura’s stomach dropped, and Feyd suppressed a smile. It seems he didn’t need to wait a few more months after all. He could sense the tension in his fiancé, though, and brushed the satisfaction he felt aside. Either she was truly afraid to marry him, or she knew something he didn’t.

She didn’t falter; in fact, she smiled. “I see, when are we to return to Daquan?”

“They intend to send for you tonight. A bit hasty, but I suspect they are a bit protective of their heir all alone on Geidi Prime, all these years aside. We’ve also discussed your living arrangements.”

Feyd eyed his Uncle suspiciously. “Living arrangements?”

“Yes, the Duke and Duchess have generously invited you to live as newlyweds in their court; I see no protest. You will enjoy yourself, nephew; I have heard many stories of the pleasure of Daquan. Consider it another gift for your birthday.”

Feyd’s jaw clenched as he recalled the afternoon attempt on his life in the arena with the Atreides slave with some annoyance. He pondered drowning his Uncle as his expression darkened. His lips dared to part and speak the thought, but Tii Sanura pinched him discreetly to tell him to be quiet. Sensing something beyond his understanding, he obliged his wife.

“Don’t tell me you’re still upset, nephew, you proved yourself quite well,” the Baron chided, chuckling, “Besides, I have another gift for your birthday.”

His lips parted into a smile that made Tii Sanura’s blood chill.

“Arrakis.”

The air in the room shifted. Tii Sanura’s mind fell still. Arrakis. The sister planet to her own, populated with a people whose ancestors undoubtedly lived in some semblance of the peace and calm hers did before the Empire discovered their Spice, before the Harkonnens sunk their claws into the planet. She held her composure, but wanted to swallow. The thought of ruling over Arrakis made her throat feel like sandpaper. The thought of Arrakis made her blood pulse and thicken. She wanted to sit, she wanted to leave immediately, she wanted to go back home.

Feyd placed his hand on her lower back, glancing over to her. She resented the way it calmed her. She couldn’t stand it.

“Rabban has obviously proved his incompetence, and I need Spice production stabilized. And you, my dearest niece-in-law, you will undoubtedly find a way to make yourself of use in this effort.”

“Of course, Lord Baron,” she assured, her expression placid.

“Of course, still, there are more talks to be had beyond this, but your union, and our houses’ unions are imperative. Go and prepare for your voyage, and allow me to be the first to congratulate you—I sense your union will be…more than agreeable.”

The Baron grinned, and instinctively Tii Sanura’s stepped away from Feyd’s touch to give a slight bow of respect. She offered a meditative smile, bowing her head slightly again and leaving silently. Feyd-Rautha followed, eyes fixed on her curiously. What did she know that he didn’t?

The moment the doors shut, Tii Sanura whirled around, and her hand shot out and collided harshly with Feyd-Rautha’s face. Without missing a beat, she walked towards her quarters at full stride, frustrations bubbling within her as if they had all come to boil.

“Do not ever touch me in that man’s presence,” she snapped lowly, eyes smoldering with barely restrained frustration, “I will not tolerate such humiliation, and you—“

She suddenly cut herself off as Feyd watched the anger boil over into the darkest glare he’d ever seen on his betrothed’s face. They held each other’s gazes, and a flash of realization passed over Tii Sanura’s face, sweeping away her temper as quickly as it had descended, causing him some dissatisfaction—he had never seen her so alive. She sucked her teeth, giving him a harsh look and stalking off back to her quarters.

The bastard.

As she rounded the corner, Feyd grabbed her and pinned her to the wall, eyes smoldering. Her gaze held heat too, and it flared back at him with upset and desire. His hand closed around her throat carefully, holding her to the wall as he whispered in her ear. She was learning new things about herself today—the second was what the sensation of such a gesture did to her body. His breath fanned against her face before her spoke quietly into her ear, mindful that his voice didn’t carry beyond the dark, empty hallway. To her shock and thrill, her language flowed from his lips as he spoke.

“Don’t hit me like that unless you’re willing to pay for it,” he told her, voice practically a low growl, “When we’re married, the next time you strike me like that, I’m going to bend you over the first thing I see and fuck that attitude right out of you. That’d be just what you needed, wouldn’t it? I bet you need it now.”

Their breaths were heavy as he let go of her throat, grabbing the back of her neck, and pulled her into a heated, aching kiss. She grabbed onto the fabric of his tunic with a soft quaver of her voice in her throat, opening her mouth—her body had nearly taken over her mind with need, and she crumbled into the kiss with almost as much need as her husband-to-be. He had to hold back the satisfied groan that wanted to rumble in his chest at her near matching his hunger before suddenly pushing him back as much as he would allow. Her breath was quiet but heavy. Her eyes were unmistakable, even in the shadows of the Harkonnen palace. Feyd held her tighter, leaning in again and taking another kiss.

She slowly closed her eyes, her eyebrows briefly creasing before her expression softened into nothingness again. Her body relaxed into a deep exhale, and suddenly, everything became…

Feyd’s world blurred around him. His mind spun as his feet’s hold on the ground seemed to lapse in and out. All he could hang onto was her scent, her heat, the pulsing blood that rushed through her body. Then, her voice. It whispered to him, but she didn’t open her mouth. A Bene Gesserit trick, he realized.

Follow me.

He wanted to be angry at her slight smirk, but he couldn’t; his mind and body were sedated under her cooling presence as she rose from the wall and took his hand off of her throat, linking their fingers to lead him through the darkness. He opened his mouth, but her whispers stopped him.

Don’t speak. You don’t need to. I know what it is you need.

Somehow he could still see her eyes through the shadows that devoured them both. His heartbeat filled his ears—but whispers did, too, whispers he couldn’t understand. He heard her gently laugh, much to his annoyance and stoking his lust. His hunger couldn’t decide if he preferred how she unraveled for him, or how she could assert her will over every aspect of his being at a moment’s notice.

He blinked, and suddenly his mind cleared. They were in her room. His cock strained against his pants as she reclined on her bed, resting on her elbows. He could see the curves of her breasts through her cloak—was she only wearing her cloak?

“Come,” she told him, her gaze dangerous. Another change.

She didn’t need to command him. Feyd knew the danger he had to be in for her to invite her to his bed, but he had no control. He slowly climbed on top of her, wary of whatever she had up her sleeve.

Careful, her Voice whispered. Not a command, but a warning. His mind sharpened with the familiarity of being caught in one of her traps. Her looked over her serene face with confusion.

“The time has come, my friend,” she said softly, “When I am to test if you are simply an animal, or a man.”

The world suddenly grew clear, and he became acutely aware of something pointing at the side of his neck.

“I hold the Gom Jabbar at your neck,” she told him, eyes scathingly watchful, “One move, and I kill you.”

He swallowed, his desires becoming increasingly stoked by the passing moment. She had him bested once again.

“What is my test,” he asked, eyes taking in glimpses of the bare inscribed skin underneath the black, shimmering fabric.

“Focus,” she sweetly reprimanded, “Or you will die by your wife’s hand.”

He held her stare, feeling his cock aching painfully. She moved her sleeve, revealing a small box further up the bed. He moved with her as she slowly reclined until her head was right next to it, and his hand threatened to slide into the mysterious contraption.

“Put your hand into the box,” she instructed, her lips brushing against his.

He was very wary of her intentions now, she was too open, too intoxicating. Hesitantly, he followed her directions while stealing glances at her.

“What is in it, Sanura?”

Her teeth gleamed in the light as a knowing smile curved her full, pillowy mouth.

“Pain.”

The moment the word left her lips, agony overcame his entire being. He knew to hold still, she would kill him without thinking, but his hand felt as if it was being put through multiple tortures all at once—the skin and muscles flaying off of bone, the fire consuming bubbling flesh, the freezing cold making the sinews brittle and dead. It was too much—he couldn’t hold it back anymore.

He held his wife’s dangerous, enigmatic stare as his hips slightly thrust against her and his cock pulsed and twitched in his pants. She felt it, but didn’t respond.

“Don’t move,” she warned.

His eyes were seeing white with the overwhelming sensations consuming his body—he held onto his wife’s instruction, trying to find her eyes through the haze. He was certain at this point that his hand was long gone, but the pain continued, telling him otherwise.

A groan filled his throat, and she clicked her tongue.

“Silence,” she told him.

His breath was ragged as he fought it down. This woman would be the death of him. He couldn’t tell if he hated her or loved her in this moment of torment.

He fixed his gaze onto hers, forcefully keeping himself upright with nothing but spite and terror. He watched her smile grow, but then she became blurry, and her whispers filled his ears. He felt her careful touch wipe his eyes so he could see clearly again.

“Very good,” she said.

Tears involuntarily rolled down the na-Baron’s face. He was right at the gates of release as she lowered the Gom Jabbar, visibly pleased. The pain lowered from its mind-frying crest, making him nearly collapse onto her if it weren’t for the tension holding his muscles in place.

“You can take your hand out, now.”

Feyd discovered with some shock that his hand was completely intact. Pristine, even. He swallowed, looking down at his wife in shock as his nervous system slowly stabilized. She was smiling. It was a strange one. Not the kind from games or torment, but unmistakably tender. Feyd’s heart slammed in his chest as he slowly rested his forehead against hers, but she allowed it.

“Very good,” she repeated, leaning upwards to gently press her cool cheek against his hot, teary face.

His words rasped out. “Am I an animal, my love?”

She chuckled sweetly, the devilwoman. He wanted to ravage her right then and there.

“You are an animal of a man, my husband. But you prove a man, indeed.”

“So have I passed your Bene Gesserit test, then,” he asked, eyelids heavy as he lifted himself up and let his gaze pass over her body again.

“Yes,” she said, “And now…”

He pressed his hips into her slowly, desire slowly reviving his traumatized senses. “…Now?”

“Now…”

She slowly lifted her chin, tasting the salt on his cheeks, feeling the hungry tremor pass through his body with satisfaction. His hands balled into fists, gripping the silken sheets in his hands. He inhaled her scent, roses and sweat and lust, mouth nearly watering. She grinned as she spoke into his ear.

“You must leave and prepare to depart for our wedding.”

At the flash of indignation on his face, she quickly changed her tone.

“Now,” she commanded.

Involuntarily, he rose, his face blank. She lied back with a sigh, placing the Gom Jabbar back into its cloth sheath and placing it on the bed next to her.

“I will see you soon, my friend,” she teased, “Perhaps your pets can satisfy you.”

The monstrous woman, he thought to himself as he unwillingly left her quarters. I knew she was jealous of them.

Tii Sanura let out a heaving exhale, lying back on the silken pillows and closing her eyes. It was only then her awareness noticed the pair of servants in the corner, awestruck and terrified. She sat up, covering herself with a bit of embarrassment.

“Oh dear, my apologies,” she said, finally addressing them, “I am usually not so sloppy. That was rather…improper of us.”

The two women eyed her warily. She considered them, then gave a small, benevolent smile.

“You may stand properly. I will be your new mistress, and I do not hail from a house of savagery. I expect my servants to stand with some semblance of grace.”

The two women shared a look of confusion, but quickly separated, timidly emerging from the corner with their heads bowed and shoulders crumbled. They faced her and looked at her, but she quickly realized the slaves of the Harkonnens did not know how to stand properly.

“Oh dear,” she remarked.

The slaves tensed in fear, trembling in anticipation of a brutal punishment. Tii Sanura rose from the bed.

“You must lift your heads, my darlings. Stand as I do.”

They observed her, then, warily straightened their spines, their shoulders squaring. Her expression was calm but warm, and she nodded in approval.

“That is better, but we will work on it.”

She considered them in silence, and the slaves gradually became less tense, unsure of what to do or anticipate from the stranger.

“What are your names?”

They feared her too much to speak. Her eyes softened.

“That is alright. You will decide yourselves when the time is right.”

She clothed herself, then gestured for them to approach. They avoided her eyes, but moved towards her quickly.

“You shall join me in Daquan. Is this agreeable?”

The two women nodded, hesitant to disobey, curious and eager to leave the cruel House Harkonnen to discover the court of their new mistress. She smiled.

“I suspected as much. Stay close to me. I will not allow otherwise.”

***

Feyd immediately sought out his wife the moment they were on their way to Daquan in a rage. His footsteps were silent—habit of a trained killer, but his fury was easily felt by Tii Sanura as she and the two Harkonnen slave women conversed.

He stormed into her quarters, meeting an unbelievably bizarre sight—two of his house’s slaves, smiling, conversing freely with his wife, dressed in the luxurious fabrics and jewels that she was adorning them in. Their faces fell in mortal terror at the sight of him, but his wife was unmoved. His stomach twisted, a new, unpleasant feeling. Something was wrong.

“Ah, hello, my friend.”

He moved to grab the slaves, but his wife’s dark stare stopped him in his tracks.

“Take one step towards them and I will return their suffering to you hundredfold,” she snapped, then smiled, “Do you understand?”

Indignation rose to a peak, he snapped at them. “Out.”

Tii Sanura was clearly annoyed by his addressing of the women, but she remained calm.

“No, no; you may stay. I do not want the Harkonmen envoys near you.”

“What is wrong with you, woman,” he demanded, stalking towards her as the women retreated to share a corner, frozen in silence.

She watched him calmly, her expression serene as always. Her eyebrows rose in mock sympathy.

“You did not ease your affliction with your pets?”

Her eyes flitted over to the women with a playful wink; embarrassment simultaneously infuriated and aroused him, and he glared back at the women. They stood differently, he noticed, and then he realized they were awaiting her instructions. Something was wrong.

“What is this,” he questioned, voice forcibly calmed, “What is happening in this room?”

She seemed to be glowing with a quiet joy, her features no longer held the shadow they did in Geidi Prime. She touched his face.

“Calm yourself,” she commanded gently, “And hear me.”

Feyd’s head swam as his nervous system suddenly slowed down. She guided him to her bed, and the two sat. He had never seem such warmth in her eyes.

“I will give you what you need,” she assured, whispering so as not to reach the ears of the women in the corner, “I can promise you; it will outclass any pleasure you derive from suffering. I will give you something better. Let your anger go.”

Her hand soothingly rubbed his back, a motion he did not understand, but wanted to continue. His confusion under the gaze of slaves made him tense. This was beyond humiliation.

“Feyd, do you trust me?”

Easy answer. “No.”

She laughed softly. “I will change that. But you can. I am fond of you, and our marriage ensures your safety.”

Safety?

The na-Baron knew he was missed crucial pieces of the puzzle his wife-to-be had built, but needed no additional information to understand he was caught in her web, and traveling through space directly into the nest itself.

“I cannot tell you everything until we are wed, and your safety is guaranteed.”

Her fingers caressed his jaw soothingly, and he looked at her. He didn’t know who the woman before him was.

“What are you planning, Tii Sanura,” he asked her, voice low.

“It is not my plan. It is the plan. And Vladimir Harkonnen is not included.”

A conspiracy. Familiar ground. He felt a bit more settled with this knowledge, but still, he was wary.

“I am your hostage, then?”

She laughed. It was a laugh he remembered from long ago, when she teased him for not having eyebrows when they were children.

“There is no need for hostages. The course is set. There is no escape. You are my betrothed. We are marrying, and that is all. They want you to breed. I want you to live.”

The word intrigued him. “Breed?”

She laughed slightly. “You will understand soon enough. I see glimpses of the path, but I will see it all. I will make sure you survive the coming storm.”

He scanned her face, but there was no way to know if Tii Sanura was ever lying, not to mention she was speaking nonsense. Seeing he couldn’t understand her, she sighed.

“Give me a moment.”

She led the women outside, conversing with the guards—no, instructions, Feyd corrected, orders to protect them if trouble arose—then returned inside so they were alone. Her eyes were fond, affectionate. It made his stomach churn. His head was spinning.

“I apologize that I cannot ease your confusion, my friend. Plans have been in motion since we have been betrothed; this is all I can tell you for now. You will learn the rest on your own.”

She went over to him, cupping his cheek in her hand and kneeling before him, resting onto his lap. Feyd felt the blood rush to his groin immediately.

“You have known no other life than the one given to you on Geidi Prime. It is a brutal, unnatural existence, but you have become the best specimen of such a place, which is why I fought for you.”

Fought?

“Your way of life has perfected you for the Baron’s purposes. But I wish to show you new ways of life—better ways. You burn what does not need burning, you strike when you need to caress. You will learn these things in Daquan.”

His heartbeat was slamming in his chest as she slid between his legs, looking up at him as he felt her breasts gently pressing against his lower abdomen, stoking the fires of his lust punishingly.

“I only ask of you to let me show you the way. I believe you can be redeemed. Let me show you the way to redemption.”

“I do not need to be redeemed,” he demanded, placing his hand around her throat, “You insult me.”

She smiled, and chuckled softly. “I will first teach you the ways of unsullied pleasure. Let me demonstrate my first lesson, and we will see how you feel afterwards.”

Her hands freely massaged his painful erection with careful pressure. His head swam his need; his grip tightened on her throat. She placed her hand over his, and he curiously allowed her to guide it elsewhere, lower, where his hand cupped her breast. His inhale was sharp.

“Do forgive my deception; I am not uneducated in matters of sex.”

The smile in her lips guaranteed her apology was false. Jealously lazily flared in him, but faded as she continued to massage his length through his pants.

“I cannot show any weakness in your court, so I had to hide many aspects of myself. I suspect you will be pleased with the discoveries you make in our time together.”

“I…will not be your pet, woman,” he protested, pleasure beginning to dull his harsher intentions. She deserved to be punished for her antics and condescension, but her hands were undoing him.

“No, you will not,” she assured, moving closer to graze his lips with hers, “You will be my husband.”

He kissed her hungrily, thrilled and conflicted by the newfound passion he was given back by his betrothed. He wished to take it from her, but she gave it so freely, and he needed the release so badly he couldn’t care less how he got her to ease his agonizing denial. She was tugging at his puppet strings, he knew this, but to receive whatever she offered, he would accept being bested. For now.

She broke their lips apart, eyes slowly opening, lids heavy in a way that he never thought possible.

“Do you trust me now,” she asked, kissing his jaw, slowly unbuttoning his trousers.

“No,” he muttered, then, after gathering his thoughts, “I don’t know.”

Her lips brushed against his ear. “Surrender this moment to me, and I will show you the beauty of trust.”

He had no protest. She smiled.

“Mm, I thought so.”

“You witch,” he protested at her gloating.

She only chuckled. “I cannot perform magic tricks, but I understand your confusion.”

Her kiss firmly silenced any retort she had as she closed her hand around his clothed length, making his breath shudder.

“My customs prevent me from making any sexual contact with your bare flesh,” she whispered, her voice wavering, “But the scriptures I studied didn’t mention anything about—“

He cut her off, taking her face in his hands and kissing her with unrestrained hunger as she began stroking him at a measured rhythm. He groaned softly into her mouth, and she tasted it eagerly. She spoke against his lips.

“I want you to be my husband,” she said, breathing heavily, “Do you understand? No other man will do. No other man would be my lover. I want you.”

“I knew you wanted me,” he muttered lazily, completely at the mercy of her skillful hands, “You cannot lie to me about this.”

“I will not lie to you anymore,” she said, words flowing from her lips in the heat of the moment, “There will be no need to. We will be together.”

He growled involuntarily at the feeling of his climax approaching as she sighed.

“You—you belong to me,” he said, it was both a statement and a question.

“We belong to each other,” she whispered, “No one will disturb us. No one will want to.”

His hand closed around her throat again and squeezed. She sighed again, no other man would take control like him, even when he was at his weakest.

“You belong to me,” he repeated—this time, it was a command.

She smiled, making sure to draw each word out, the surrender he had hungered for so ardently for so, very, very long. Her voice was soft and sweet in his ear, but strained under his grip.

“I belong to you.”

He climaxed almost immediately. He groaned as his cum spilled inside his pants; it belonged in her hot, wet cunt, but that was a matter for later. She hummed in affirmation as his cock twitched and pulsed underneath her hand, and made a slight sound of surprise as his hips jutted against her chest. She gripped him tightly and slowed her pace, humming along with his groans, smiling against his skin as his choking slowly changed to gripping her jaw to hold her still for his ravenous kisses, then changed to gripping her hair at her scalp to bare her neck to his hungry mouth.

She gasped as he kissed and sucked at her throat like a starved animal, then, to his astonishment, moaned softly.

“Feyd,” she barely said, her words barely intelligible through her growing sounds of pleasure, “Feyd, wait…”

His teeth grazed her skin, and she shivered with a smile, moving her hand away from his spent cock to press them both against his chest. She was being too indulgent, but then again, he had always been a bad influence.

“You want to wait,” he asked, tugging her head back, “You care about some old books?”

She chuckled, then moaned as he left a mark on her skin with a harsh kiss.

“I must—We must wait.”

She gently pushed him back, and he accepted her resistance. He was satisfied by her willingness to express her desire; her surrender to his demand. Hesitantly, he restrained himself and pulled away. She kissed him softly, caressing his head with such affection he would’ve thought a stranger was touching him.

“Without principles, we are no better than animals,” she said, “Not all disciplines are easy, I don’t deny it.”

She smiled at him, a devilish twinkle forming in her eyes.

“But the rewards for such obedience prove much sweeter than without it.”

The na-Baron took in his betrothed’s blissful features with an odd sense of reverence.

“You are a strange woman,” he remarked.

She smiled in amusement. “And you are a strange man.”

They kissed again, with Tii Sanura climbing into his lap as his hands hungrily roamed her clothed body.

“Are my convoys landing with me, my jewel,” he asked between kisses.

She laughed quietly. “They will make it to our realm. Then, I will have them released into the asteroid belt. Is this agreeable?”

Feyd laughed in return. “Yes, I believe it is. But I will require more of your…assistance.”

Her giggles were music to his ears as he hoisted her up into his arms, then tossed her onto her back on the bed, climbing on top of her and pressing himself between her legs.

He would have had no other woman as his wife.

#Spotify #feyd x reader #feyd rautha #my wriitng #amaranthine_enihtnarama #black y/n #fanfic authors #dune fanfiction #dune fandom #feyd x you #feyd fanfiction #feyd rautha smut #is this desire?

[ladyempty]

Yan! Maegor Targaryen x Wife!Reader

° | !English is not my first language!|

° | This is a yandere work and may contain triggering behavior. I'm not in favor of that in real life. |

You were certainly a cursed woman for arousing the almost immediate interest of the cruel king after his bloodthirsty ascension to the throne.

Maegor already had three wives at that time, two wives he liked and one he despised with increasing hatred.

But you were different, it was an overwhelming feeling that caught you off guard in the first contacts.

There was something fascinating to the king in his every little gesture and movement. Her so easily adorable personality and impeccable looks.

So this was love? This flame that burns without being seen? That feeling he despised when bards sang softly on banquettes and celebrations, and now it had taken over his body.

Already convinced of the strength of his feelings, the king did not delay in a proper court, he thought he had already made his obvious interest clear. The king's way of showing interest was something... Peculiar... Certainly constantly chasing you, ordering guards to follow you and always so fixedly analyzing your slightest movement, it wasn't the most gallant way.

In any case, the engagement was not long in consideration, with Maegor coldly threatening you father:

"I will have your hand beheaded or I will have your daughter's hand in marriage" His tone was as cold as the blade of his sword held firmly at his hip.

The wedding was only in Valerian traditions, the king's warm crimson blood mingling with his own and the taste of copper on his lips.

Maegor would never stoop to marrying in the faith of the seven. An action that only caused more chaos and anger from the religious.

The wedding night was certainly not a fairy tale. The king was focused on creating an heir and finally freely exploring his body. His touches were rough, strong and not at all gentle.

You better not consider moontea...

As a husband, Maegor is not the kindest. His displays of affection are not delicate and he does not demonstrate his love through words at all.

But compared to his treatment of other people, he is much softer on you.

He will still punish you if you disobey his numerous and strict rules.

Jealous and possessive are an understatement to describe feelings and behavior. You are His in every aspect of the word. Your body and soul belong to him and him alone. And not even his other wives have the right to take their You attention away from him. Your world should revolve around him the same way his world revolves around you.

Maegor is simply crazy about you, he loves you in a way he's never loved anyone else, even if it was in a distorted way, he doesn't want anyone to get close to you, touch you or even breathe and look in your direction. Anyone who approaches you will regret it bitterly when the blade of your sword pierces the person's neck without mercy.

He admired strength... But you couldn't get hurt, he liked your bravery, but there is no way he will allow you to get hurt. Never.

Maegor will not change your reason if you don't trust him. He will even think you are smart. For a while. After your patience runs out, he will simply demand your complete trust in him.

"I am your lord husband, who is more deserving of your trust than me?"

And things only got worse after Alys's deformed stillbirth...

Tyanna's whispers in her ear about infidelity and the child being nothing more than a bastard only served to increase her paranoia. The mere thought of you cheating on him was enough to make him simply lose his mind.

He imprisoned you in your private chambers, no one was allowed to enter unless authorized by the king. Guards guarded the door to his quarters.

Then, in an act of desperation, Maegor took three wives at once. But all three had deformed stillbirths just like Alys… Tyanna had lied and the king simply didn't know what else to do. He was desperate for the first time in his life.

But like a ray of light... Were you pregnant? For the first time in almost decades... Maegor smiled widely.

#yandere x reader #yandere hotd #yandere house of the dragon #yandere maegor targaryen #Yandere Maegor Targaryen x Reader #Maegor Targaryen x Reader #Maegor Targaryen #house Targaryen #house targaryen

[pilot-boi]

Pilot, I know you primarily bully Jaune. But would you mind having a go at Papa Arc talking to the Vacuo mural?

Orion Arc is not a hero, even though his son always thought he was. He’s just a man who loves his family and tries his best to do right by them.

So it’s more than a little strange standing there, in front of a mural of his own son’s face. His boy immortalized and honored in ways Orion could never dream of.

His son looks like a stranger.

“Mr. Branwen thought it might help to talk to ya.” Orion’s hand brushes over the palm prints of countless children, all paying their respect to his boy. “Don’t see much point, ain’t gonna bring you back.”

His son watches him, all quiet confidence and bravery. A true warrior, a hero. Where is his brash anxious son who begged to join the Huntsman Academies? How much of his son did he lose when Jaune finally left home? Somewhere along the way his boy grew into a man and he wasn’t there to help him.

“Your uh…” He clears his throat. “Your mother misses you.” And it sounds pathetic even as he says it. Even in front of a facsimile of his son he can’t say what he needs to.

“She was beside herself when you didn’t come back from Haven.” So was he, even more so than his wife. Orion paced the house for days, worry driving him to throw himself into work, into anything that would take his mind off the attack and the fate of his boy. “We were so relieved to hear from Saph about you and your friends.”

His friends. A group of seven that from all accounts Jaune grew closer to than even his sisters. Orion glances up at the others in the mural. Four of which fell alongside his boy, and the other three were left grieving.

Ren, Nora, and Oscar, he remembers them being called. He never thought he’d see his grief echoed in faces so young.

“As soon as we saw the broadcast, your mother was packin’ our bags.” Orion chuckles. “You shoulda seen her, she was fixin’ to march up to the General herself and teach him a lesson. If I ever wondered where you got your fire, I got my answer.”

His face falls, crumpling like paper. “And I triedta douse that fire.” How many times did he tell Jaune it was okay if he failed? How many times did he refuse to train him? How many times did he let his fear guide him to crush his son’s dreams?

“When you walked into the livin’ room with your transcripts in hand sayin’ you were gonna be a Huntsman whether I wanted it or not, why…” His eyes are stinging. If there’s anything his son inherited from him, it’s his tendency for emotions to live near the surface. “Why that was the proudest day of my life.”

He’d never been more proud. Never. His boy standing there with those papers clutched in his fist, and a defiant look on his face. “I won’t let you down.” Jaune had said.

You could never let me down. It’s what he should’ve said. Why didn’t he just say it?

Orion scrubs the heel of his hand into his eyes. It does nothing to stop the flow of tears. “Did I ever once tell ya how proud I am of you?” His voice is cracking and hitching, but if he stops talking now Orion knows he’ll never start again.

“You’re so brave and you don’t quit when things get tough. I saw how hurt you were after the Fall of Beacon, but you just got right back on that horse.” His baby boy, the most caring and most stubborn of all his children. Strapping the family sword back onto his hip because “Somebody has to, dad.”

Letters where it’s clear his boy isn’t saying half the trouble, but he’s saying enough that they know what trouble is. Hearing about the attack on Haven, a week and a half of terror. Saphron sending word that Jaune made it to Argus.

And then nothing. Nothing until the broadcast from Miss Rose.

Packing in a whirlwind, sending the girls to stay with Saphron. Renting the first available airship to Vacuo and contending with his wife’s motion sickness. By the time they got there, they were met halfway by a near armada.

But no Jaune.

Orion’s hand rests on Jaune’s painted cheek. A child’s hand against the larger-than-life hero his boy grew into when he wasn’t there.

Did he ever tell his son how much he loves him?

“Come back to us,” Orion begs, no longer trying to stem the flow of tears. Why bother? His son isn’t here to see them.

#rwby #jaune arc #papa arc #mine #asks #my writing #freshmiraclecheesecake

[goldfishontheceiling]

"Alastor is just using Rosie" NUH UH whips out the list

1. He is capable of making friends, as seen with Mimzy. So it's not that hard to believe that he can have another friend if one (cough cough MIMZY cough) just comes around when she needs something. Mimzy doesn't even benefit him in anyway, yet he doesn't cut her off, which shows he can make friends.

2. Aside from the cannibals in ep7, what else could he get from her? I mean she does recommend him deals sometimes, but anyone can do that. If his true goal was control over the cannibals then their bond would feel a lot more shallow, like ep1-ep5ish with Charlie.

3. If Alastor was using Rosie for deal recommendations (since she gives him "prime pickings for a deal to be made"), then why not just do so with a mutalistic relationship instead of having to form that bond?

4. He bleat like a fawn. If he was acting, he wouldn't let himself lose composure for an act.

5. They both kinda get close to eachother in a way they don't with anyone else. SHE PICKS HIM UP AND SPINS HIM AROUND AND HE DOESN'T SAY ANYTHING ABOUT IT. Sure, he hugged Mimzy, but if she ever did that? She would most likely be dead.

6. If anyone else openly/jokingly insulted Alastor, he would go all scary demon ahhhhhhhh. But Rosie? Perfectly fine.

7. The way he talks to Rosie is different to the way he talks to Charlie. With Charlie he's a little bitch sometimes (oh Charlie you look an absolute mess!) and he kinda takes every chance he can to be a little bitch while still being nice and showing he's important.

8. Rosie knows things about Alastor that he hasn't even figured out (I know your an ace in the hole!), and for Rosie to know these things, that would require Alastor to open up about himself, which he doesn't like doing because "must be mysterious radio deer man." Even to Charlie, who he does have a bond with, SHE STILL JUST THINKS OF HIM AS "MYSTERIOUS RADIO DEER MAN"

9. Hating someone together is one of the easiest ways to start a friendship, especially in hell, where people hating each other is really common (Susan? Susan)

10. If he truly was manipulating all of his friends, he's a sinner, he still has a humanish mind. Humans crave bonds with other people as part of their instincts. And you could just get fake ones, but if you're the manipulator in that situation you'll know it's all fake and it won't leave you fufilled. Which is why having one or two genuine friends (Rosie/Mimzy) would have to be a requirement.

11. He has manipulated other Overlords in the past, like Vox. But with Vox, they would realistically never get along. Same with Vaggie, Angel Dust, etc, he just wouldn't be able to form a true bond with/a very strong both with those people. So yes, he's manipulating/has manipulated them. Rosie on the other hand? They're both cannibals from similar time periods, with similar interests, and they hate the same people.

12. Rosie is smart. She easily reads Charlie, a stranger, like a book. And if she's known Alastor for years (which she most likely has), she knows how to read him past that stupid permanent smile. So even if he was manipulating her, she would know.

13. He HATES Susan, and Vox, and probably some other people I can't think of off the top of my head. He can't stand them. So if he hated Rosie? He wouldn't be able to fake a bond like the one they have.

14. His pupils dilate around Rosie, which is a sign that you like/love whatever it is that you are looking at

Look at these

COMPARED TO THESE

AND IT ONLY HAPPENS WHEN IT'S JUST THEM TWO

15. Rosie agrees with him when he says that Charlie is "filled with potential that I could guide," so she knows that he's using her for that kinda stuff. With that moment it shows that she understands that Alastor is helping Charlie with her dream in exchange. I swear I had more thoughts on this one but then I got distracted with finding screenshots for 14-

Bonus reason that's more silly then reason: THAT DANCE IN READY FOR THIS IS TOO COORDINATED THEY HAD TO HAVE PRACTICED IT

#i had to hold myself back from going full autism mode #because if i didn't this post would just be a giant wall of capital letters #anyway tag time #hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin #rosie hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel rosie #hazbin rosie #rosie hazbin #alastor and rosie #platonic radiorose #qpr radiorose #radiorose #rosie and alastor #idk what else to tag

[miley1442111]

fresh out the slammer- a.hotchner

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: yes, i am a swifty- sorry lmao.

intended for fem reader!

summary: based off of fresh out the slammer by taylor swift

pairings: aaron hotchner x reader

warnings: sad ending, talk of falling out of love, aaron is still in love with Haley

the tortured poets department masterlist

Now pretty baby, I'm running back home to you

Fresh out the slammer, I know who my first call will be to

Fresh out the slammer, oh

Aaron unlocked the door to your shared home, one thought on his mind. Haley. 

He missed her more than life itself. He missed being a family with Jack and her. He missed it all. 

You were his girlfriend, you should’ve been on his mind. You had been there for him during his recent recovery after the stabbings with Foyet, you were working at all hours to try and find Foyet, you were always there for him. He loved you, truly. 

But you weren't Haley. 

Another summer takin' cover, rolling thunder

He don't understand me

Splintered back in winter, silent dinners, bitter

He was with her in dreams

He lay beside you in your bed. You were already asleep, soft snores falling from your beautiful lips. A certain unease settled into Aaron’s body. He realised something slowly, and it led to a heavy sense of dread, shame, regret, and guilt. 

He didn’t love you. He was still in love with Haley. 

He thought of Haley everyday, every night. He wondered what she was doing, now that he didn’t know where she or Jack was.

Sleep evaded him that night. 

Gray and blue and fights and tunnels

Handcuffed to the spell I was under

For just one hour of sunshine

Years of labor, locks, and ceilings

In the shade of how he was feeling

But it's gonna be alright, I did my time

Weeks passed and Aaron became more and more distant. He cancelled dates, came home late, he was reckless at work. 

You felt hopeless. You knew something was wrong, but you couldn’t figure out what. You decided to confront him, staying up late enough to catch him. 

“Aaron, what’s going on?” You asked as he walked into your shared bedroom. He stared at you for a moment, then sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Nothing,” he lied.

“Aaron, I’m a profiler too. Tell me.”

He felt conflicted. He liked you, a lot. He’d been dating you for a year. He’d thought he was over Haley, he was wrong. “I’m not in love with you anymore, I’m not sure I ever was.”

Your heart broke, but you swallowed it back. “Ok,” you whispered and got up, grabbing your go-bag and walking out. Aaron didn’t chase you. He didn’t want to. 

You got into your car and let yourself break down. He never loved you. He was still in love with Haley. You were just a placeholder for her. 

You went to Penelope’s place, knowing she’d be there for you. She let you in immediately and comforted you to sleep.

Now, pretty baby, I'm runnin' back home to you

Frеsh out the slammer, I know who my first call will be to

(Frеsh out the slammer, oh)

Haley was dead. You felt devastated for Aaron and Jack, not enough to speak to him though. You attended the funeral, you stood beside the rest of the team, then went straight to Strauss. You handed in you badge and gun, leaving the BAU behind. You cut everyone off, blocking their numbers, moving house, taking up a job in the CIA instead. 

Aaron had officially lost you. In the weeks of your breakup, he’d realised how wrong he was, that he had loved you, that he was in love with you. 

Camera flashes, welcome bashes, get the matches

Toss the ashes off the ledge

As I said in my letters, now that I know better

I will never lose my baby again

He spent weeks trying to find you, finding nothing. You’d asked one of your new colleagues to essentially wipe your existence off the face of the earth. You changed your name, you changed. 

He’d made Penelope look for you for months, he went to your family as a last result. 

“You want to know where Y/n is?” Your father asked. “We thought you’d know.”

His heart stopped. You were missing. 

He got the team on it immediately, until Strauss called him in. 

“Aaron, Y/n Y/l/n is not missing. She’s been reassigned,” she explained.

“Why can’t we find her then! All of her accounts were drained and closed, her family don’t know where she is, and she left the BAU!” He demanded. 

“She was reassigned Aaron, that’s the end of it.”

He was helpless. You were gone. 

My friends tried, but I wouldn't hear it

Watch me daily disappearing

For just one glimpse of his smile

All those nights, he kept me goin'

Swirled you into all of my poems

Now we're at the starting line, I did my time

He took a leave of absence from the BAU for a month, deciding to try and find you on his own. He looked through everything on you, tried to remember details you’d told him, but he came up with nothing. 

Until he saw you on a case. 

Now, pretty baby, I'm runnin'

To the house where you still wait up and that porch light gleams (Gleams)

To the one who says I'm the girl of his American dreams

And no matter what I've done, it wouldn't matter anyway

Ain't no way I'm gonna screw up now that I know what's at stake here

At the park where we used to sit on children's swings

Wearing imaginary rings

You were a CIA agent, you were happy the way you were. You’d found a husband in the 2 years since you’d left the BAU. He loved you and adored you like you were supposed to be adored. He was a childhood best friend, one you’d had a crush on as a child. Aaron walked into the CIA building and saw you with your hand in his. His world crumbled for the third time in his life. 

You had found someone else. You shot him and the entire team a small, knowing smile, and assisted them on their case.  

“We thought you’d died,” Derek admitted as you were all cleaning up the conference room they were using as an office. 

“Well technically Y/n died, I’m Y/n/n now. Y/n/n Scott,” You smiled, showing off your wedding ring and smiling at your husband, the other CIA agent that was helping with the investigation. Aaron’s stomach turned. At least you were happy. 

But it's gonna be alright, I did my time

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #bau team #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #taylor swift #taylornation #taylor #t swift #eras #tswift #swifties #taylor swift eras #ts ttpd #ttpd #ttpd era #taylor swift ttpd #tortured poets department #so long london #fresh out the slammer

[nightsmarish]

Summary: as summer at hogwarts approaches, both you and Regulus build up your walls again, lose sleep, and are warry of saying yes to the offer to go to Potter Manor.

A/n: might write a pt.2? Would we like that? Maybe? Idk, I lost the plot halfway through and u can tell lmao. Also, have not written for this specific ship, so I may not be as good as the queen of this ship

Update!: pt2

Poly!moonwater x gn!reader (Remus lupin x regulus black x reader) | 1.6k words

Tw: allusions to toxic family, losing sleep, snippy bc of losing sleep, negative thoughts, anxiety, a nap dude

⊹₊ ✰ ⋆⊹₊ ✰ ⋆⊹₊ ✰ ⋆⊹₊ ✰ ⋆⊹₊ ✰ ⋆⊹₊ ✰ ⋆

History of Magic is usually an easy subject. Sit down, take notes, look over the assignment, complete it during dinner or before bed, and you're done.

But today everything but that is happening. You managed to get all the way to sitting down and pulling out your parchment and quill before the words Professor Binns says all mesh together. Nothing makes sense.

And you know it's due to the ache behind your eyes, the pounding in your head and the ache in your bones.

The last few nights you haven't slept, not really at least. It's nearing the end of this year at Hogwarts so everyone is preparing to go home. Planning what they will do with one another over break before the new year starts up. Talking about their family traditions, and a feeling of excitement takes the castle.

Despite this, a feeling of dread has been following you like your own personal rain cloud. The knowledge you'll have to return home eating you alive. Knowing you won't be able to contact Remus or Regulus, less your parents find out you're dating them, making you feel like you're choking on your heart.

The memories you've made this year really should weigh out the weeks you will spend with your family. In the stiff place, you're forced to call home with strict rules and expectations. Yet, you feel horrible. And it's been causing you to force yourself into your studies for the upcoming tests. Avoiding sleep due to nightmares that have recently plagued your mind.

Which leads to now, the room spinning slowly on an axis, ans Professor Binns slightly to blurry, even for a ghost. You know you need to zone back in, drink some water, take a vitamin potion or even visit Madam Pomfrey at this rate. Yet you can't make yourself do it.

Continuing to stay in your zoned out state till the end of class. And that's when even you draw the line.

Standing up from your seat as everyone filters out, albeit a little you're moving a little slower than usual, you exit in search of your boyfriends. Either or both. And it's not exactly a very long search, quickly finding yourself face to face with Regulus Black and Remus Lupin.

"Hey, dove." Remus' voice is sweet, per usual, like the comfort of a spoon full of honey on a sore throat.

Regulus doesn't speak for a full moment, analyzing you. To anyone else it would look judgmental, but the softness in his eyes and slight pull at the edge of his lips tell you differently.

"Hi, Rem." The boys look at one another, an unspoken conversation playing out.

"Why don't we go to my dorm?" Remus looks back to you, "haven't had much time for the three of us. James and Sirius have quidditch, and Peter is going to his study group."

"I'm down." Without another word, the three of you walk towards Gryffindor tower.

ᯓ★

Remus knows that Regulus tends to be a little quieter the closer to the end of the year, having been around the other Black brother for a while now. Already knowing how closed off Sirius would get when he still lived at the Black Manor, building up the walls early to protect himself when he left.

Even now, Sirius does it. Remus isn't sure if it's a habit or the fact that Regulus has been refusing to take the offer to stay at Potter Manor as well.

But you? You, he's not sure. Remus knows you and Regulus have known one another longer than he's known you, and that's never really bothered him. Remus knows all three of you love one another, and he's never felt left out. But know? Know he wishes you'd talk about your own home life.

Regulus doesn't like talking about his experiences at home; the only thing Remus knows is from old stories from Sirius. And Remus will never pry, not wanting to force either of you to do anything you don't want to.

But Merlin, he feels nearly useless right now, wishing to see the tension in your shoulders calm, wishing to see you and Regulus calm again. Wishing Regulus would take the offer to join them at Potter Manor. He wishes for both your safety more than anything.

The walk to the dorm is quite, but not peaceful. Everyone trying to stay calm and wishing someone else would say something. But no one knowing quite what to say to break the silence.

Once you do get up to the dorm, the Gryffindor's dorm, Regulus sets his bag by Remus' nightstand, you following suit, the emblems on your bags a contrast to the surrounding room. Regulus goes to find clothes he's left in Remus' closet before, while you sit on the lycans bed to slip off your shoes. Remus sits next to you, his hand resting on your lower back.

And finally, after far too long, Remus breaks the silence. "Dove..."

You glance up at him as you slip your shoes under the edge of his bed. "Yes?"

Remus sends a quick glance to Regulus, who's slipping on a long black sleeve shirt, one more comfortable than the previous Slytherin uniform. "I understand if you aren't comfortable with it, but..." He pauses for a moment, glancing back to look into your eyes, his thumb rubbing gentle strokes on your spine. "If you want to, you know you're welcome to stay at James' house."

Under his hand, Remus feels you tense, and from his peripheral, Regulus paused to listen.

"That's- that's okay, Remus. But tell James I appreciate the offer, please." You stand up far too fast for your lack of sleep, causing you to fall right back where you were sitting. Alerting both boys.

One of Remus' hands stay glued to your back, the other on your shoulder, as if your keen over. Regulus is quick to stand infront of you.

"Love, you should stay with them." Regulus' voice is full of worry. "It's better than any other option."

"You're not going." Your eyes shoot up to Regulus', far more defensive than you mean to be. Remus' hand, which was previously on your shoulder, moves down to the bed, the other hand continuing to run against your spine again.

"That's doesn't mean you shouldn't go." Regulus matches your defensiveness out of habit.

"You both should come." Remus talks before you can shoot back, hand on the bed finally moving to Regulus' arm, never seeming to catch a break.

There's a heavy pause. One that goes on for an uncomfortable amount of time.

"I'll think about it if you do." Your voice is more timid as you hold your stare at Regulus' eyes, his boring right back into you. Intense, deep, and so, so, loving.

Regulus sighs, "fine."

"Thank you, both. Seriously, you should come. James and Sirius want you guys there. Not to mention James' parents, they love new people." Remus kisses your hair line, standing up, hand leaving your back, before kissing Regulus on the lips. Both your bodies lossen.

Remus moves to change out of his uniform, and you quickly stand up to join him. Regulus' hand comes out to make sure you're steady as you grab a pair of sweats that no one truly knows who belongs to. They were probably once James, but at some point Lily stole them, and at a different point Sirius stole them back, and now so many of your friends have worn them at some point, it's probably weird.

Grabbing those and a jumper belonging to Regulus, you turn back to see Remus already curled around Regulus' back, who lays with enough room for you to join them. Both trying not to show just how eager they are for an afternoon nap.

You climb onto Remus' bed as well, using your wand to close the curtains, magically dimming the lights in the room before placing it on the bedside table. Curling into Regulus' front, leg thrown over his hip, you tuck your head into his neck. Yet your eyes remain open.

You definitely want to sleep, and you know you should, Remus is likely already asleep, knowing the bastard sleeps like the dead. Yet the knowing you could have another wretched nightmare makes you stay awake, staring over Regulus' shoulder the the golden brown hair tucked into his back, belonging to Remus, and letting the black hair belonging to Regulus slightly tickle your cheek.

"Go to sleep dove. Both of you. Please, you can't function without it." Remus' voice seems to startle both you and Regulus, both believing he was asleep, and believing the same about one another.

You pull back from Regulus neck, facing him, seeing the features of his face barely visible in the dark room. "We will, baby." Your voice is soft, as if you were telling a secret.

Remus merely hums and shift slightly before relaxing back into Regulus' back.

"Get some sleep, darling." Regulus kisses your cheek, "it's going to be okay in the end."

"I know. I know. We both need sleep; Remus is gonna kill us." Softly connecting your lips with his, slow and lazy, both smiling at the hum from Remus, confirming the empty threat you made for him.

You return to your being tucked into Regulus' neck. "'M sorry for being snappy with you." You mumble against his skin.

"You have nothing to apologies for, I understand where you're coming from darling." His hand rests on your hip and lower back, relaxing further into you and Remus, closer and closer to having a lovely nap. Of which, you join with the hopes of no nightmares.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x regulus black #poly!moonwater #poly moonwater x reader #poly!moonwater x reader #regulus black #Regulus black x reader #Regulus black x you #regulus black x y/n #remus lupin fluff #regulus black fluff #remus lupin oneshot #regulus black oneshot #remus lupin one shot #regulus black one shot #remus lupin imagine #regulus black imagine #poly!moonwater imagine #poly!moonwater x you #poly!moonwater x y/n #gn reader #marauders #marauders era

[holylulusworld]

Indecent Proposal (17)

Summary: Your boyfriend wants to be part of their empire. You are the pawn he’s willing to sacrifice.

Pairing: Mobster!Stucky x fem!Reader

Characters: Natasha Romanoff, Jake Jensen

Warnings: established Stucky, caring mobsters, pregnant reader, fluff, implied needy reader and Bucky, candy theft, polyamory

Indecent Proposal (16)

Indecent Proposal masterlist

Two months after Bucky and Steve found out about Rumlow’s plan to get information about them using the nurse, said man disappeared.  

No one cared about Brock Rumlow's disappearance. One day, he left town and never got seen again.

People may think Steve and Bucky took care of the annoying thorn in their flesh, but the truth is that they didn’t touch one hair on his head.

“Still nothing?” Bucky watches Natasha stuff the money he brought to her into her bag. Another good investment for the mobster, money for her retirement to Natasha. “Be honest, Nat. Did you take care of him?”

“I told Rumlow that his little stunt with the nurse went too far. He had the order to stay away from your…” she wrinkles her forehead still not understanding your relationship with the mobsters. “Fiancé.”

“We didn’t kill him,” Steve pushes off the wall to look at the pictures on Natasha’s desk. “Even though, we planned on taking him down. Rumlow had it coming.”

Natasha frowns deeply. “If none of us took him down… What happened to him? This doesn’t make sense at all.”

“What if he fucked with the wrong people over?” Bucky scratches his scruffy chin, wondering if the man obsessed with him and Steve annoyed the wrong person. “We can’t be the only people he messed with.”

“I don’t know,” Natasha sighs and rubs her tired eyes. “He’s a good cop.” She rolls her eyes when Steve makes a retching noise. “Believe it or not, he’s not a complete psycho. Rumlow is good at his job. I don’t know what you did to make him lose his mind.”

“We did shit to your little buddy,” Steve grunts. “If someone made him disappear, I owe him one. This way, I didn’t have to get my hands dirty.”

“This must be very funny to you, Rogers,” Natasha wrinkles her nose. “He was a good man and a good cop. It’s too bad he got lost in your web.”

“We didn’t lure him in,” Bucky snaps at Natasha. He glares at her, making sure she knows they did come here to chat. “One day your friend decided he must bring me and Steve down. Does he even know that we maintain peace? No one dares to harm citizens since we took over the throne.”

“I get it,” she huffs. “You are the kings of your kingdom of shit.”

“Careful—” Steve snarls at the redhead. “Our fathers build this kingdom with blood and terror,” the blonde steps closer to Natasha, sizing her up. “Bucky and I changed the old ways. We took their empire and changed it for the better.”

“What do we do about Rumlow now? If he’s dead, people will start asking questions. It’s no secret that he was obsessed with us.”

“I will try to keep you out of this,” Natasha steps away from Steve. She doesn’t want to rile him up even more. 

“You’ll keep us up to date,” Steve points his index finger at the redhead. “We need to know every detail of his disappearance…”

“Doll, what are you doing,” Steve laughs. You threatened to cut Bucky’s cock off because he dared to steal a chocolate bar from your secret stash. 

“He stole from me!” You pout. “Bucky stole my favorite chocolate bar. It was the last one with hazelnut.” Faking a sob, you look at Steve. “You should scold him.”

“I was hungry after you wanted a taste of Bucky,” the brunette grins. “And you got a whole drawer filled with the sweets. Candies, chocolate bars, all the good stuff. Steve, she’s got a sweet tooth.”

“Not only a sweet tooth,” Steve smirks. “She’s a naughty little minx too.”

“Hey! I’m not little,” you kneel on the bed to glare at Steve. Not months ago, you trembled in fear in front of Steve, and now you talk back and tease the mobster. “You better watch your tongue, or I won’t show you the latest ultrasound picture!”

Bucky watches you and his husband bicker. He smirks and chuckles. The brunette leans back and enjoys the show. “Steve, she’s getting cocky. What will you do about it?”

Steve cocks a brow. His features darken and he smirks at you. “I will spank her cute ass if she gets even cockier.”

You laugh at Steve’s words. He wouldn’t dare put his hands on you. Both men are deadly and strong, but with you, they are soft and gentle. Even if you are a brat and a needy slut sometimes.

“The doctor will be here in half an hour,” Bucky stretches his legs and yawns. It was a long day. Jensen and Bucky tried to find out more about Rumlow’s disappearance over the last hours. “Let’s not fight over stolen candy.”

“I did not forget you stole from my stash, punk!” You poke your index finger into Bucky’s thigh. “You are on thin ice, Sir.”

“Sir, huh?” Bucky licks his lips. “Steve, how long until the doctor arrives.” He looks at his husband.

“Buck. No,” Steve shakes his head. “Last time the doctor almost caught us red-handed.”

“Hmmm…good times,” you nod and sigh dreamily. “Very good times.”

“Your fiancé is healthy,” the doctor murmurs while scribbling down a few notes, “everything looks good. There is nothing to be worried about.” He looks up from his notes. “We should talk about the results of the ultrasound we took today now.”

He clears his throat and looks at you. The elderly man gives you a soft smile. “Can I tell them?”

The doctor chuckles now. “Of course, my dear.”

“Alright,” you clap your hands before grinning at Steve. “I will blow your mind.”

“Please tell me she’s not pregnant with a Tasmanian devil,” Steve mirrors your smirk. “I bet she is. It would explain her bratty behavior.”

“Stevie, let Y/N talk. I wanna know what she wants to talk about,” Bucky grabs your hand. Anytime you have an ultrasound examination he turns into a softie. “Go ahead doll. We are listening.”

You take a deep breath. Suddenly you’re a little nervous. “I-doctor can you tell them?” You chicken out and drop your gaze.

“Fuck! Is something wrong with the baby?” Steve presses one hand to his heart. “Please tell us.”

“Doll…” Bucky holds your hand a little tighter. The usual tough man looks helplessly at his husband. “Stevie?”

“The baby and your fiancé are healthy,” the doctor hastily says. “We got no bad news for you. It’s rather, good news for you and your fiancé, gentlemen.”

“Good news,” Bucky nods at Steve. “Did you hear…good news. Phew.” He sighs deeply. “Thank fuck.”

“What is the good news?” Steve rumbles. He stares at your swollen belly, awaiting an answer. “Doctor?”

You take a deep breath and look at both men. You don’t know if the news is good to them or not. “We—we are having twins!”

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky #stucky x reader #pregnant reader #stucky x fem #stucky x female reader #female reader #stucky x y #Indecent Proposal (17)

[lol-jackles]

I know its beens awhile but what did you think of S15 as a whole?

As a whole I think season 15 was an above-average season due to below-average execution and ended with a stellar series finale that added rewatch value not just for season 15 but also all of 15 seasons.

Season 15 started and ended with callbacks to previous seasons; from season 1's woman in white and Sam's goal of returning to a normal life, to season 5's Dean's time in hell as Alastair's apprentice and bringing closure to Adam Milligan, to season 8's endgames for Sam and Dean.

The first half of the season 15 was about free will vs determinism, with Sam representing the former and Dean representing the latter.  Sam and Dean’s confrontation with God parallels how they've reacted to family and authority their entire lives: Sam challenged God’s Divine decree over His Creation while Dean accused God of abandoning His Creation.  When Abraham spoke with his heart and mind to God over His plan to destroy Sodom & Gomorrah, it led to Abraham transcending himself, leading the way for God, and becoming the father of faith. Metaphorically it's all about lessons in honest, meaningful relationships with our fellow human beings.   People often suppress their true selves and principles for the sake of avoiding conflict instead of taking the relationship a step further into a place of sincerity.   From season 11 to 14, Sam and Dean spoke their hearts and minds to God and the brothers' relationship became at its strongest, never wavering even when occasional arguments sprouts up because they were honest with each other.

Sam and God became connected through Sam's hope which manifested in their identical wounds. Secular-based hope is about anticipating something good to come in the future.  Sam has hope in a better future, so Chuck showed him a bleak future to make his lose that hope.  Once Sam lost his hope, God leaves.  That’s pretty much what happens to people in real life, when they lose hope, they feel there is no God or God abandoned them. Another physical manifestation of a bleak future is Dean's old friend who retired from hunting, Lee, who became so corrupted that Dean is forced to kill him.

The return of Sam and Dean's half-brother, Adam, brings welcome closure.  Adam is not out for revenge as he acknowledged his own culpability for agreeing to vessel-ship in the first place.  Him and Michael only having each other for 10 years in the Cage led to their codependent-symbiotic-ish relationship that parallels Sam and Dean to some extent.  

I like to call the second half of season 15 the "Dean redemption tour" where side characters were used to address Dean's unresolved issues in order for him to be good enough for Sam in their eternal afterlife. Normally whenever Dean interacted with side characters it is about the side characters, not Dean (see example here and here). But when the formula is reversed, it becomes a bit disjointed, and the audience picked up on it. The final redemption act target Dean's anger issues that both Amara and Chuck discussed.

Chuck: This is my ending.  My real ending. 

Very next scene: *Dean pulls a gun on Sam*

Dean’s been so obsessed with having free will that he’s actually following Chuck’s writing.  As usual Sam broke through to Dean, in effect breaking Chuck’s influence. Then a very mad mad Chuck shows up.

Chuck:  “Are you kidding me? After all that, you did it again!”

Then 15x18 happened. Ignoring the hilarity of that scene, the speech was supposed to remind the general audience that Dean is A HERO before he dies two episodes later. By 15x19, free will vs determinism comes to a conclusion.   Michael and Lucifer betrayed the Winchesters and succumb to determinism, fulfilling their destiny to destroy each other.  Sam and Dean manipulated Michael to lure Chuck into a trap to replace him with a new God, Jack. Chuck is left only with human frailties and for the first time Chuck has no idea what happens next, bringing the free will theme to a full circle.  

Due to interactions with Sam, Rowena became the new queen of Hell while Jack becomes the new God of Heaven. Jack promises Sam that He will have a hands-off approach and people don’t need to pray or sacrifice to Him. Jack’s perception of humanity is distilled down to, “When people have to be their best, they can be.” 

Before the story ends, the protagonist is supposed to accomplish their primary goal that had kept them driven and move the story forward.  Sam’s goal was attaining normal life, it was never about eradicating monsters to extinction or avenging his mother’s death.  In fiction it always seems like the main character want many things, but there is always a primary goal.  Harry Potter gets dragged into many subplots such as conflicts with his best friends, romantic misfires, and incidents with secondary characters, however his main goal was always to defeat Voldemort and that's what the audience is holding out to see.  Sam Winchester’s journey is flipped from Harry Potter’s; Sam gets dragged into many subplots of saving the world, defeating the Big Baddies, and conflicts with his brother, however his main goal was always to have a chance at a normal life. But this can't happen while Dean is still alive.

Dean has everything he wanted: Sam and hunting.  Dean is a complete person; he doesn’t need anything else. But Sam had given up just about everything so that Dean wouldn’t be alone. 15x16 reminded the audience that Sam wanted out of the hunting life since he was a child. Sure, Sam is very good at his job and even became a leader, but they always made sure to show that Sam doesn’t have passion for the family business other than saving people’s lives.  Claire Novak shows way more enthusiasm for the job. But Dean would never retire from the hunting life.  Even when Michael gave Dean a fantasy life, Dean still conjured up monsters so he can fight and kill them.  As long as Dean is alive, Sam will never be free to pursue a normal life.  Think back to Dean's speech in season 8 telling Sam to pursue his normal life only after Dean dies with a gun in his hand and a smile on his face.

The pivotal barn scene in the 15x20 finale was genius, bringing the series to full circle with callback to the pilot, fleshing it out, adding backstory to Dean’s pov that brings his fear, need, relief, and love to stark relief.  It hurt like hell, and at the same time, cathartic because Dean was honest.   The way Dean said, “Come here. Let me look at you. There he is!”  That’s Dean in dad mode, the parental figure to Sam.  The show reminded the audience in 15x18 that Dean raised his little brother.  Still in dad mode, Dean then tells Sam that he is proud of him.  It’s what every son wants to hear from their dad.

Dean then goes into brother mode and tells Sam he admires his strength even when they were children.  Sam’s strength is such that Dean was afraid that Sam doesn’t need him. Fearing rejection, he stood outside of Sam’s dorm for hours before finally going to Sam because it’s always been Sam and Dean, and Dean can’t comprehend if he didn’t have Sam. 

From there Dean gives Sam his blessing to keep living his life.  “I love you so much, my baby brother”. Sam’s reaction was pure and raw, he has always been honest about his wants and needs but craves Dean’s approval to pursue them, and now he has it.  Sam’s faith in Dean went answered with Dean saying how proud he is of Sam, how much he admired Sam’s strength so that Sam knows he is strong enough to go on living without Dean.  

Another reason why the barn scene is genius is the pilot callback sets up Sam and Dean’s reunion in New Heaven as pilot 2.0.  From there they will build their relationship just as Sam and Dean.  They are at peace without monsters disrupting their lives, without vindictive angels disrupting their afterlives, and without childhood angsts weighing them down.  They have both freedom and peace.

This applies to all of the hunters.  Jack’s New Heaven is like a retirement home for hunters where they can enjoy their peace and socialize with their friends and loved ones and even upgrade themselves to the people they were meant to be on earth.

#Supernatural #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #season 15