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#my writing
sukunasteeth · 2 days
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Sukuna Dyes His Hair
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You were just teasing him.
"Pink like a petite little rose."
"Shut it."
They were just play-fighting words. Part of an attempt to poke the bear that never seemed to bite at you.
"Pink like a sweet strawberry."
"Strawberries are red."
Sukuna had had you in his lap, lazy with a long day of work weighing on his bones. He watched you dote on him with a tired smile, too exhausted to mind your fingers lovingly brushing at tufts of his hair. Usually he'd swat at a touch as careful as the one you were giving him, but there were moments, like this one, where he seemed to soak up your tenderness.
"Pink like a baby kitten's nose." You cooed.
"Jesus." He groaned, rolling his eyes. 
Maybe it was the ending boop to his own nose that made him finally snatch you up and tackle you to the mattress.
Maybe that's why one day later, you're staring at him standing outside of a restaurant, leaning against his motorcycle with stark black hair.
He's grinning at you, knowing that he's won the little game as he always does, with overkill.
It was a promised date night, one you had been planning for a few weeks now. Sukuna never had the same days off that you did, but the stars happened to align for you to go out to dinner together and you leapt at his invitation.
After he spots you from across the parking lot, Sukuna stubs his cigarette beneath his boot and starts over to you. You can tell in the way his eyes devilishly glimmer that he's excited to see your expression. 
You're in too much shock not to give him exactly what he wants.
"Hi~" He purrs when he nears you, reaching a hand out for one of your own. You offer it subconsciously, moving automatically since your brain seemed to be sputtering. His rings are cold against your fingers, but even their icy bite is not enough to stir you back to the present. He tugs you into his embrace, looping an arm around your lower waist and pressing you into him. He’s warm despite the chill on his fingertips. When he's got you secured to him, he tilts his head at you, waiting for your response.
"Hi." You whisper, blinking up at him.
You know he thinks you're going to hate it. You know he thinks you're going to give him a pout- tell him how heartbroken you are to see his natural hair go. That was undoubtedly the punchline of his stupid joke. You've told him numerous times how much you loved his hair and every part of him that made him Sukuna... So why is your mouth suddenly watering?
“What d'ya think?” He runs his fingers through it, showing it off to you as if your eyes aren’t already glued to the newly darkened locks. 
It suits him just as well as his natural hair color does, but the black brings out the deep, rich color of his eyes and makes prominent the tattoos framing his face. People always tell you that Sukuna’s stare intimidated them, and you never felt it yourself until then. 
You swallow past your heartbeat, which you can suddenly feel in your throat. Sukuna notices, and his mischievous grin turns wolfish.
"Oh, you like it. Don't you?" He murmurs. Reaching up, he presses your slightly agape mouth closed so that he can place a chaste kiss to your shell-shocked lips. The smell of tobacco and expensive cologne has you in an even more intoxicated daze, rendering you boneless in his hold. His next words are a heated whisper, for your ears only.
"I usually only manage to take the words out of your mouth when you're strapped to my bed. This gotcha that good, little doe?" 
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valeskafics · 1 day
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"Love Bites" - Alpha!Rafe Cameron x Omega!Reader
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a/n: a request from @echos-muses for rafe x sarah's bff!reader. i added in a/b/o bc i'm a whore 🩷
Summary: Rafe is in for a pleasant surprise when you come back to the OBX for the Tanneyhill Halloween rager... Now an omega.
Word Count: 3,000
Rating: 18+, MDNI
TW: afab reader, she/her pronouns, profanity, innuendo, alcohol consumption, a/b/o dynamics, knotting, breeding kink, creampie, oral f receiving, fingering, overstim, pussy slapping, dom!rafe, innocence kink ig?, light choking hehe
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Outer Banks characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷
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There was always something about you that drew Rafe’s attention - Sarah’s sweet and unassuming best friend. While Sarah tended to be the life of the party, you were content to let her shine while you faded into the background, trying not to draw any attention to yourself. Rafe wonders how you’ve been able to fly under the radar for so long. After all, it’s no secret that you’re a knockout. He supposes it’s because you stay so quiet, like a little mouse, and keep to yourself for the most part. Hell, if you weren’t his little sister’s best friend, chances are he never would’ve even noticed you at school.
This makes it all the better for him, of course. No competition when it comes to you. He always figured he’d sow his wild oats, fuck his way through college, and then settle down with a nice girl like you. Sure, you’re not an omega, but presentation doesn’t mean everything, right? He can knot all the omegas he needs and satisfy his urges. And then? He can have you. His pretty little beta.
So, he puts you out of his mind as best as he can, focusing on the omegas who serve his immediate purposes. But, no matter how hard he tries to do that, you’re the face he imagines when he’s fucking them, wondering what sort of noises you’ll make, how your soft, warm body will feel under his own. He closes his eyes and tries to pretend they’re you, but the voice is never right, or the feel of their skin is off. It’s never right.
It’s a shame that you’re a beta, Rafe thinks that every day. A shy little thing like you would’ve made the perfect omega. God, he can see you right now, laying underneath him, taking his cock, begging him to fill you up with his knot, give you his pups. Rafe lets out a low groan, pulling out of the omega he was balls deep in, spilling himself on her back before abruptly dismissing her from his room. He grabs his phone to check his texts and is surprised to see a message from none other than his sister, asking him if he can keep an eye out for you at the party tonight just until she gets there since she’s running late.
Well, that works out for him perfectly, truth be told. The Tanneyhill parties can get a bit wild, so he doesn’t blame Sarah for wanting him to look out for you. After all, you’re the only person Rafe has ever shown genuine care toward other than Wheezie. Sarah always assumed it was brotherly affection, that he saw you as the least annoying of her friends. But it was so much more. Rafe comes across as your stereotypical alpha, but there’s more to him than that. That’s why he knows you’d be perfect for him.
Tonight, he’s finally going to make his move on you, his sweet little beta. You’re back from your fancy new college on the mainland - Brown, he believes, for the annual Tanneyhill Halloween rager. Sarah’s kept him apprised of your whereabouts so that he can look after you accordingly. Rafe can almost see you in his mind’s eye, sitting with Scarlet or one of the other girls near the pool as you always did at parties. He wonders what you’re dressing up as this year. Probably something low key as always. And he wonders If you look the same.
Guests start filling the mansion fairly quickly, music blaring, but Rafe is a man on a mission. He ignores Sophia, the latest omega he’s been fucking, letting her chatter on mindlessly while he waits for you to show up. She’s dressed as a cat, and honestly? He thinks her costume is ass.
As he stands there, trying to tune her out, eyes roaming over the sea of teens and twenty-somethings that have filled up his house dressed in their Halloween best, it hits him. A scent so sweet that it almost has his mouth watering. What the fuck is that? It’s an omega, but fuck, he’s never smelled this one before. That’s when he realizes who it is that’s just walked through the door.
You. Standing there in a little pink sundress, looking around nervously like a little lamb about to enter a wolf’s den. You’re even dressed for the part. A frilly red gingham dress and a crimson hood. Little Red Riding Hood. Is it just ironic that Rafe has dressed as a werewolf for Halloween or is it fate? He isn’t entirely sure himself. But God, your fucking scent. He can feel his entire body heat up at the sight of you, that innocent smile on your face as you greet some of your school friends, making your way to the kitchen to grab yourself a soda.
But this doesn’t make sense? You’re a beta… Why do you smell so fucking good? Why is his head spinning, his feet carrying him over to you before his brain can catch up? Why can he feel desire building in him, the likes of which he’s never felt before? Fuck, if this continues, his rut is going to start early, if it hasn’t already.
Rafe rests a hand on your shoulder, smirking to himself at the way you freeze at his touch. You slowly turn around, looking up at him, those innocent wide eyes of yours just as pretty as he remembers them.
“Oh, hi, Rafe,” you say in that gentle voice of yours, giving him a shy smile, “It’s good to see you.”
“You too good to give me a hug or something, little one?” Rafe teases, using the nickname he’s had for you for years now.
You quickly wrap your arms around his waist, giving him a hug. He wonders if you notice the way he buries his face in the crook of your neck, scenting you. Fuck, you’re like… Vanilla and spun sugar and honey… You’ve gotta be about to go into heat. Your scent is so fucking strong. It’s almost cloying, but not quite. It’s just sweet enough to drive him insane, to make him wonder if his presence is making the slick pool between your thighs under what is no doubt a flimsy pair of panties that match with that slutty little costume. He’s never seen you dressed like this.
“Sarah pick your costume?”
You nod, glancing around a bit nervously, “Yeah, she said I could only go as Lucy so many times before it became sad.”
He chuckles, moving his hands to rest on your waist. He can sense your surprise, practically hear the way your heart begins to pound, blood pumping through your veins. He’s never been this physical with you. He’s always kept a safe distance. Except he can’t anymore.
“How long since you presented? It happen when you were at Brown?”
You nod slowly, taking a sip of your drink, avoiding his gaze, “Uh huh. My mom had to fly up. It was a really late presentation so they did some tests at the hospital and stuff, but everything’s normal I guess.”
Rafe nods, giving your waist a gentle comforting squeeze, making you gasp softly, “Damn, bet it freaked you out pretty bad, huh?”
“Kinda,” you admit, “But luckily I’ve got really good suppressants and stuff. Like, my heat’s pretty close but I don’t think anyone can tell.”
Rafe can tell. God, he can tell. And judging by the gaze of some of the other alphas at the party, they can tell too. He lets out a quiet laugh, leaning in to whisper in your ear.
“I don’t think so, sweetheart. I picked up your scent the minute you walked in.”
Your eyes go wide and you clap your hand over your mouth, “Shit…”
The innocence in your expression so tantalizing he almost wants to reach out and take it from you, claim you in front of everyone at this fucking party, dig his teeth into your claiming gland and show them all you belong to him. But, he resists. He’s got to play this right if he wants to keep you. He pulls back to brush your hair off your face, a teasing grin playing on his lips at your frantic rambling that you need to go home but don’t have a ride. You look so adorably helpless without your friend to protect you.
“Why don’t you come up to my room, huh? We can wait till Sarah gets here and then she’ll be able to take you home.”
“But you’ll miss the party…” You trail off, looking at him concerned, “I don’t wanna ruin your night, Rafe-”
“You won’t, little ‘mega,” he smirks, taking your hand in his own, reveling in the feeling of your smooth palm against his, “Let’s get upstairs before one of these big bad wolves tries to hunt you down, Little Red.”
You giggle at his stupid joke, giving him a burst of confidence as you follow after him. He can feel the jealous stares of his fellow alphas, the omegas annoyed that you’ve managed to capture his attention. You’re easily the tastiest little thing at this party and Rafe has every intention of eating you right up.
“You wanna take that little hood off?” He teases, watching as you look around his bedroom curiously, the way you startle when the door shuts making him want to tease you even more, “Don’t be afraid, little ‘mega. Not gonna hurt you.”
You give him a hesitant smile and do as he says, removing the hood, folding it and placing it neatly at the foot of his bed. You sit down, your body going stiff as he moves to sit beside you, his thigh pressed flush against yours. Rafe can smell your arousal, the slick pooling between your thighs as you press them together desperately. He rests a hand on your thigh, just above where the stockings you wear, squeezing your flesh. The little whimper you let out is enough to set him off. He leans in close again, his nose trailing along your neck as he inhales your scent.
“You smell so good, ‘mega, you know that?” Rafe murmurs, nipping at your throat. He pins you down to the bed, letting out a low groan as you part your legs to accommodate him, your body so soft and pliant beneath his, “You know I want you, don’t you? Even when I thought you were a beta, I wanted you. And now, you come back. My little ‘mega. Did your heat kick in when you saw me, baby?”
You let out a soft gasp as you feel his fingers rubbing at you over the fabric of your lacy panties. Your teeth sink into your lower lip, eyes scrunching shut as you buck your hips up against him, the heel of his hand rubbing against your swollen clit. Rafe watches you, nearly salivating at the way your face twists in pleasure, the scent of your heat pervading the room as he pushes your panties aside and eases two fingers inside you. You’re so fucking tight, so wet… Rafe doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard in his life as he begins fucking you with his fingers, watching the way you writhe against him, the way you moan and whine and lean into his touch.
“Is this your first heat, little one?” You nod wordlessly, squirming as he moves his fingers faster and faster, holding your hips in place with his free hand, grinning at the sight of you, hair splayed out against his pillow as he continues, “Don’t worry. I’ll help you through it, ‘mega. Through this one and every one after. You want your alpha’s help, don’t you?”
“My… My alpha?” You repeat breathlessly, letting out a cry as he rubs against your sweet spot.
Rafe moves his fingers faster and faster, watching your tits strain against the fabric of your costume as you breathe heavily, soaking his fingers with your slick, a grin spreading across his face as you practically scream his name. You stare up at him as he licks his fingers clean, your lips parted in awe, eyes hazy with lust.
“Yes, little one. I’m your alpha. And you’re my omega.” Rafe wastes no time moving to sit on his haunches between your legs, fingers hooking into the waistband of your lace panties, tugging them off with an eagerness that surprises even him. He brings them to his nose, inhaling the scent of your arousal, letting out a low groan. Rafe can tell you’re enjoying it, the way your eyes go wide at his actions, his tongue darting out to taste your panties before he shoves them in his pocket, “Taste so fuckin’ sweet, little one. You gonna let me taste that pretty little pussy?” He snickers when you just lay there, your mouth agape, yelping when he lands a slap on your core, “Well? Use your words, ‘mega. Tell your alpha you want him to taste you.”
“Please, alpha…” You manage to whisper, “Want you to taste me…”
He doesn’t hesitate, dragging his tongue along your slit lazily, never once breaking eye contact with you. Rafe’s gaze holds you captive as he starts drawing lazy circles around your clit, the feeling almost too much for you to bear. In spite of wanting more, you feel your thighs moving together, your back arching up as you squirm away from him. But your alpha isn’t having that. Rafe lets out a low snarl, his grip on your thighs bruising as he pulls you back toward him, burying his tongue inside you, making the lewdest, most obnoxious slurping noises as he laps at your slick folds, eyes still trained on you. Your heels dig into his back as he mouths at you, nuzzling his nose against your clit, working his tongue against you over and over and over.
It doesn’t take long for you to lose yourself, soaking his tongue with your slick, but he just keeps going. He’s had a taste and now he’s addicted to you. So no matter how you squirm or struggle or whine his name, saying that his tongue feels too rough against your overstimulated pussy, he doesn’t care. His mouth moves against you like a man starved, fingers digging into the meat of your thighs as he keeps licking at you, alternating between long lazy strokes against your cunt and suckling at your pearl. Tears fall from your eyes from how good he’s making you feel, losing yourself as he brings you to your peak once, twice, three times more.
“Need to get you ready to take my knot, ‘mega,” he murmurs, nipping at your inner thigh, “So lay back and take it like a good little girl.”
“Yes, alpha…”
You watch as he moves to sit on his knees, hands quickly undoing his jeans, tugging his torn tee shirt over his head. Rafe knows he did the absolute minimum with his costume, grabbing the two little wolf ears and getting ready to toss them aside. But then, you rest a hand over his, shaking your head.
“Can you keep them on? I…” You shy away under his gaze, giggling slightly, “It’s like… Little Red and the Big Bad Wolf…”
A wicked smile curls on his lips as he nods, leaving them in place. He tugs at his cock, pushing inside you with one quick thrust. You let out a choked gasp, your pussy squeezing around him so tight. He goes into his rut immediately, his mind taken over solely by the thought of claiming you, giving you his knot, filling you up with his cum, watching it leak out of your swollen pussy. Your legs wrap around his waist as his hips piston against yours, his fat cock splitting you open, your lips parted as you mewl his name.
“That’s right, ‘mega, tell me how good your alpha’s making you feel,” he taunts, one hand pinching at your clit, making you squeal, while the other tugs the top of your costume down just enough to free your tits, his eyes going wide with delight as he watches them bounce.
“You, alpha,” you babble mindlessly, “Want your knot, want you to cum inside me, wanna have your pups, oh God…”
“Pussy’s so tight, ‘mega,” Rafe groans, his balls slapping against you, rubbing his fingers against your clit, smacking at it, making you scream his name, “Come for me, little one, come on. I know you can.”
You cry out, spilling yourself on his cock, but he just fucks you through it. His knees rest on either side of your hips now, your legs dangling over his shoulders as he fucks you harder and deeper than before, his mouth meeting yours in a hungry kiss. He devours you completely, his cock hitting that spot deep inside you, his hand wrapped around your throat. Rafe glances downward, smirking slightly at the sight of his cock bulging against your stomach and presses down, making you whine as you reach your peak yet again. His knot fills you and he spills himself inside you with a growl of your name, the two of you falling back against the bed, utterly sated.
“Can I…” Rafe trails off, his hand brushing the hair that’s matted to your forehead away, kissing you gently, “Give you my bite?”
You nod, letting out a breathless whisper, “Please…”
And he does, bonding you to him forever, the feeling of his tongue soothing the bite mark making you whine as you return his bite with one of your own. The two of you cling to each other, waiting for his knot to deflate, the noise from the party still echoing through the hall. But neither of you care. You’re too busy basking in the afterglow of your shared pleasure.
And when Sarah walks in on the two of you? She can’t even be angry because she’s never seen you so happy.
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simon-sehs · 2 days
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war paint (18+)
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unofficial sequel to ‘makeup’
tags / cw: f!reader, fluff, smut, established relationship, dry humping, dirty talk
“Stay still.”
Ghost huffed beneath you. “A bit hard to do when you’re sitting on my cock.”
“I’m not. I’m sitting on your lap, with fabric separating us.”
“Stop with the semantics, you’re killing the mood.”
You pull back to look at him, your black fingers still poised on his cheekbones. “Mood? I’m helping you with your makeup, not your boner.”
He scoffed. “It’s war paint.”
“Now who’s arguing semantics?”
“It’s not makeup.”
“Mhmm. Whatever you say, baby.” You continued to rub the black makeup—paint, whatever—carefully around his lovely brown eyes. You couldn’t help but smile, the black rub always brought them out, making them darker, more intimidating.
He grinned. “Don’t cream yourself, love. You still have a job to do.”
“Quiet. I’m concentrating.”
“No.” He smirked.
You grinded down against him, earning a loud grunt. He chuckled. “Is that supposed to be a deterrent?”
“The opposite. If you be good, I’ll give you more.”
He laughed again, before leaning in to whisper in your ear. “You really think your little rules will stop me from fucking you stupid?”
You groaned and pushed him back in his seat before continuing to apply the paint. “Dammit, Simon, shut up.”
“I wanna fuck you so bad...”
You grinded against him once more, but didn’t stop. “You’re so… damn annoying…” You moaned.
His hands gripped your waist, guiding your hips back and forth his clothed bulge. “That’s right, love. Tell me more while you get yourself off…”
“N-no.”
“Fine by me, your moans will suffice.”
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thinking of Simon who gets nervous laughs when he's about to kiss you for the first time.
hes pulling up his mask, already halfway into a smirk before he'd leaning down to you. he can feel his chuckles working up his throat before your lips touch. you can feel it bubble out of him when they finally do
"what's so funny?" you ask. his laughter is a bit contagious.
"nothin imporn't," he smiled, pecking your lips again before pulling his mask back on.
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Dead On Main part 7
Masterpost
dedicated to @cervinebotanist and @leafyeyes417 for responding so quickly and with such enthusiasm to part 6. Thank you for the encouragement and support.
Danny takes a deep breath. He can hear scrambling from somewhere else in the car, but he can’t pay attention to what’s happening as he focuses inward. He closes his eyes, and reaches inside himself.
Jason has a tiny baby core! Danny almost coos at it, but it’s so underdeveloped that he’s sad instead. Danny can feel ectoplasm in himself, in Jason’s body. But it isn’t enough. This ectoplasm has been reused, reduced, recycled one too many times. It’s got barely enough to stay alive left in it. Jason is mostly being sustained by his human half right now. It feels like play-doh that turns to dust where it should stretch, dried-out and old. It makes him even more sad. And slightly ill. But the sadness makes the rioting ectoplasm calm back down inside him.
Danny opens his eyes. He’s slightly disoriented, but calm now, eyes no longer glowing. They had stopped the car. He looks at Tim, who is leaning against his door and braced against it and Dick’s chair, giving Danny as much space as possible. His hand is almost on the door handle and his tablet on the floor. Dick and Bruce are exchanging panicked looks in the front seat, both now unbuckled for some reason and completely turned to face the backseat.
“Hey, speaking of ectoplasm, this body really needs some.” Danny informs them. “If it doesn’t get some new ectoplasm soon his core is going to cease functioning, and that would be really bad, and possibly irreversible.” 
“Uhhh.” Dick’s panicked look is turning straight to confusion, as is everyone else’s. “What?” 
“I didn’t realize that Jason was, I mean he had mentioned he died, but he- well, I guess I didn’t want to talk about it over the phone either. Does make it easier to talk about since we’re the same, but of course we couldn’t have known yet. But his core needs some help, do you not have access to ectoplasm back home?” Danny is rambling, brain spinning at the thought of how much he and Jason have in common. This big thing that no one else would truly understand by each other. And Vlad, sort of, but nobody likes Vlad. “It’s amazing that we ended up soulmates. He’s only the third person in the world I’ve even heard about with this condition. How long has he been without ectoplasm? Is he having trouble finding any, or does he not know he needs it? Either way, I’m giving him some as soon as possible.” Danny doesn’t know whether he should freak out over that fact that his soulmate is as dead as he is, that he’s currently dying from lack of ecto, or that his soulmate’s entire family is probably going to end up learning about him and ghosts, or the fact that he is currently taking another body that the GIW is going to want to study straight to them. All of these things seem like great reasons to freak out on their own, so all together he is just panicking.
Danny doesn’t seem to be able to breathe. 
“Hey, come on, that’s fine, you can totally give Jason some… ectoplasm.” Dick says.
“Danny, you have to breathe, okay.” Tim is much calmer than Dick, so Danny focuses on him as Bruce and Dick whisper in the front. “Danny, match my breathing.” Danny stares at Tim, who is making very exaggerated breathing movements, and tries to time his breathing to match. “We’ll figure everything out, but we don’t need to do it right now.” Tim is still helping Danny, talking calmly, but he says this with enough force to distract the two in the front seat enough for them to shut up for a second. Danny appreciates the bit of silence.
“You need to start driving.” Danny, tells Bruce. “Right now, his human half is sustaining the rest of him almost entirely. If Jason doesn’t get more ecto soon, his other half will die, and I’m not sure what will happen to his human side if that happens. He may die again completely.”
There’s a beat of silence in the car. Bruce stares right into Danny’s eyes.
“You are saying there is an active threat to my son’s life, ” Bruce asks, voice hard. 
Danny nods. Then everyone is buckled back in and Bruce is pulling them back onto the road. 
“You know what’s happening and how to help him?” Bruce asks, voice steady but Danny can sense all the emotion underneath. Bruce is really worried right now, he looks around the car and realizes that Dick and Tim are as well. They both have phones out, but are tense, tuned into his conversation with Bruce.
“Yeah, It’s a simple enough fix, I’m just worried because he’s really…” Danny takes a moment to think of the right word. “Ecto deficient? His core is definitely malnourished, and his body and mind definitely need it. They are being sustained with human stuff for now, but eventually that won’t be enough.” 
“How urgent is this?”
Danny feels for Jason’s core, feeling like he’s invading his privacy, but without other options to check. It’s not cracked, but it’s not fully formed either. Half starved baby core, not even strong enough to present. Its link to an obsession is strong, but frayed enough that Danny can’t tell what it is. The core is not strong enough to produce it’s own ecto, even in response to the obsession being fulfilled. Everything is stable, but strained.
“I’m not an expert, but he’s sustained himself this long. And we’re already on the way. We should be fine, but I’ll keep an eye on it just in case.”
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anawritez-posts · 2 days
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𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧
Summary: In the halls of Hogwarts, Y/N and Theo Nott, classmates with contrasting personalities, find themselves drawn together by a series of subtle gestures. Y/N's meticulous nature leads her to straighten Theo's attire, unaware that he deliberately leaves imperfections for her to fix, all in the hopes of feeling her touch. - Inspired by Icing Hearts by JJ Wright.
masterlist | taglist
A/N: don't you worry I'm currently writing voicemail part two but felt the need to release some works while you wait.
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In the bustling halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where magic and mischief intertwined, Y/N and Theo Nott found themselves as classmates in the grand tapestry of wizarding education. Y/N, with her keen eye for detail, and Theo, with his air of quiet confidence, seemed an unlikely pair in the whirlwind of magical academia.
Their story began in the corridors of Hogwarts, where the echoes of laughter and the whispers of secrets lingered like magic in the air. Y/N couldn't help but notice Theo's impeccably tailored robes, the way they hung just so, accentuating his stature and grace. Yet, amidst his polished appearance, there were always subtle imperfections—a stray tag here, a crooked tie there—that caught Y/N's discerning eye.
Without a second thought, Y/N would reach out to tuck in Theo's shirt tags or straighten his tie, her fingers brushing against his skin in fleeting caresses. Theo, though outwardly composed, couldn't help but feel a flutter in his chest at her touch, a warmth that spread through him like wildfire.
Unbeknownst to Y/N, Theo had taken to deliberately leaving his tags askew or his ties slightly disheveled, all in the hopes of drawing her attention. He found himself eagerly anticipating those moments when she would come to his rescue, her touch sending shivers down his spine.
Their classmates began to take notice of their interactions, exchanging knowing glances whenever Y/N and Theo were in close proximity. Yet, amidst the whispers and the speculations, Y/N remained oblivious to the true nature of their connection.
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justsalpals · 2 days
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What if you were bones? If there was nothing else left of you?
No lungs filled with sweet laughter. No blood rushing to blushing cheeks. No skin grazing against mine when you twined our fingers together.
What if there was nothing left?
If I cradled your ribs in my palm, haunted by the ghost of your heartbeat? If I caressed the line of your ulna, almost able to feel the light brush of overlarge shirtsleeve dipping past your wrist? If the back of my knuckle skimmed the cheek of your skull, so sure I could still feel golden eyes staring so gently back at me through empty sockets?
(Mother said I'd have to watch everyone I loved pass on, but I was promised more time.)
(I walk out of step with the world, but you joined me with a gait all our own.)
(What is that if not a promise?)
What if there was nothing left but bones, yet I could still see the shape of you in the remains? If I handled every piece with the gentlest care, rebuilding you from the inside out? If I held each phalange tenderly in my palm, as if this were a new way you'd chosen to hold my hand?
(I was promised more time. Not enough, but more than this.)
Healing hurts. Magic weaving through meat and muscle and sinew, knitting together a wound before it's ready to let go. It's beautiful and necessary. The pain. Healing hurts. Living hurts. Loving hurts. Love beats in my heart my throat my hands my staff, bleeding like a gaping wound with every forbidden word spoken and ancient symbol sketched into stone.
If you need skin, blood, lungs, then you will have them. If you need flesh and meat and beating heart, I will build you them with my two bloodied hands. I will sculpt your bones a home from the carcass of a beast, breathe life into your hearth with dragonfire.
Healing hurts.
What if I didn't care who I hurt, if it meant having you again?
I think you can understand the sentiment.
And one day soon, when you look at me in the light above and give that gentle smile, I can't help but imagine hooking my fingers between the slats of your ribs and tugging you close enough to hear your heartbeat.
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Possessive Castiel with a marking kink makes me feral
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momotonescreaming · 2 days
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don't say nothing’s wrong
Rating: T | WC: 20k | Steve & Dustin Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Dustin Centric
“If you’re gonna continue to bully me, dude,” Steve starts, brows furrowing; lips pursed in a tight, angry line. “I don’t think I want to be your friend anymore.”
“What?” Dustin replies indignantly, whipping around to face Steve, mouth hanging open. What the hell is Steve talking about? He’s not a bully? He’s one of the nerds, the freaks, he’s the one who gets sneers from jocks and got pushed around on the playground by the bigger kids. He can’t be a bully, it’s like, in the rules of high school. Steve must’ve gotten hit on the head harder than Dustin thought.
It was a Saturday afternoon, they were hanging out at his house, and everything was going fine. Good, even. So where did this come from? A stack of movies from Family Video on the coffee table, a bowl full of popcorn, they were laughing and it was fun. Dustin was just joking and now Steve’s saying this?
“I’m not a bully, what the hell Steve?” Dustin adds, louder this time, frowning over at Steve. He has his arms crossed as he sits in the large armchair in the corner of the lounge. Suddenly he feels so far away. “Are you serious or are you stupider than I thought?”
He watches as something flickers over Steve’s face. Something small, quick as a flash, blink and it’s gone. Something in his eyes, the downturn of his lips, his brow. Dustin can’t quite place what it was, especially not now that it’s gone, and there’s a horrible feeling in his gut that it was important. Steve immediately steels his face, smothers it, and it’s reminiscent of King Steve. That aloofness, carelessness, that air about him. That he’s better. That he knows more than you. He’s got the upper hand.
He’s unaffected.
Flexing his jaw, moving in such a way that it looks like Steve’s digging food out of his teeth with his tongue. It almost feels like disdain. He’s never looked at Dustin like this before. Even back in the tunnel, with Billy, when he was dragging him down the train tracks. So what’s gotten into Steve now? It was just a joke, and now Steve’s threatening to ditch him? He would never.
“Thanks Dustin.” Steve says, uncrossing his arms and resting them on the armchair. As if he’s about to lift himself up to standing — and leave. “Thanks for proving my point.”
[read the whole thing on AO3]
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mediumgayitalian · 3 days
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“Oh, come on, there’s just —” Will blows an errant curl from out of his eyes, cheeks red with exertion, balancing nimbly on his feet to put both hands on his hips. “There’s no way, Nico.”
Nico, not blessed with such balance, has to hold all footholds with all limbs, staring warily at the lava wall’s snake holes.
“What? I’m just not as good as you.”
Will flops his right arm outwards, narrowly avoiding smacking it against the rock. “But you are!”
Nico shifts his wary gaze from the snake holes to Will’s rope harness. Is it tight enough? It better be tight enough. Will is putting a lot of faith in it, right now.
“You scaled those cliffs in — in the place —” he trips, still, over the pit, on the odd time he mentions it, and it always makes Nico wince — “like it was nothing! And whenever Percy visits and challenges you you’re suddenly the lava wall expert!” He turns stern blue eyes to face Nico’s head-on. “Not buying it, di Angelo!”
A gush of lava forces him to resume climbing, but there’s an aggression to his movements — a specific, stiff, curated aggression, that Nico has learned means anxiety in people known as William Andrew Solace. That, and coupled with the rapid muttering which, in between the roar of molten stone, Nico believes is a a repetition of “dumbass” “always tryna act a goddamn fool” and “I’m gonna kill him before he sends me into cardiac arrest again”, interspersed with random swears in English, Latin, Ancient Greek, and also — gods — Klingon.
“Will.”
Will ignores him, scampering the last few feet up the wall and slapping the top before relaying down. Nico sighs, following him (albeit significantly slower).
“Will.”
“You’re hiding something from me.” He practically rips the harness off his body — do not think about that do not think about that do not think about that — and shoves it on the hook so hard it damn near snaps off. The look he levels in Nico’s direction practically turns him to stone, it’s so frigid, and he has to resist a shiver. “I can tell.”
It takes a good amount of pushing to make Will all testy like this. Sure, his buttons are easy to push, but most of that is for show. He likes to be dramatic. (Especially because he knows Nico will indulge him, more than anyone else ever has. He relishes in it, Nico thinks; he likes that Nico will watch his productions. An Apollo kid through and through.) He’s not usually one to show his genuine frustration.
But, hoo, boy, when he is frustrated.
Nico has a bad, bad habit of making it worse.
(As if it’s his fault that Will’s hot when he’s mad.)
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nico says, forcibly lightly. He sticks his hand out defiantly. “Check me, why don’t you? Not hiding anything.”
He really isn’t. No injuries, no illness, hell, he’s not even tired. Had a full three meals and everything. Even his perpetually achey joints aren’t bad today.
All of this, obviously, is communicated when Will touches him, squinting suspiciously at their joined hands.
“You’re heart rate is high,” he mutters petulantly.
Nico looks at him patiently. “That’s ‘cause my smokeshow boyfriend is holding my hand.”
Grumpy as he’s trying to be, his ears redden. A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth.
“Shut up.”
Nico grins, pulling his hand up to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the knuckles.
“No.”
“Whatever,” Will says, snatching his hand back. His smile spreads widely across his face, now, and he looks away, as pleased as he is exasperated. “You’re still being a weirdo. I should not be so far ahead of you on the wall, Neeks.”
Success — back to nicknames. Crisis averted.
“Have you considered that you’re the camp-wide record holder for a reason, you spider monkey?”
“Still!”
“Yeah, yeah.” Nico gets up on his tiptoes, pressing a lingering kiss to the bridge of his freckled nose. “Stop worrying about me, Solace. I’m fine. Burn off some steam, I’ll watch.”
Will huffs. “Fine. But I’ll find out, y’hear me? Truth can’t hide from me for long.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
He watches as Will suits back up, helping him with his more complicated straps (because Nico was raised to be a gentleman, obviously, why else) and shooing him away when he opens his mouth for more interrogations. He switches to sticking out his tongue, and after a moment of hesitation, bounds back over to his first true love — being a big nerdy jock dork.
Nico settles on the grass several feet away from the wall, pretending to clean his sword. After a few minutes, he hears footsteps, and two people sit next to him on either side.
“So,” says Lou Ellen, ignoring Nico’s suspicious look as she tosses a glowing ball of something around, “how come you’re not climbing?”
Nico shrugs. “Only so many times you can climb before it gets boring.”
On his other side, Cecil makes a loud buzzer sound.
“Nope! Wrong answer. Try again.”
Nico is a dignified grownup who refuses to stoop down to Cecil’s level by responding. Instead, he reaches over and pokes him in his ridiculously sensitive ribs, hard, sending him sprawling with a screech.
“Shut up,” he says mildly, as his friend flails. “I’m trying to be a supportive boyfriend, and I can’t do that with all your whining.”
Will has, in the ten minutes since he started, made it halfway up the wall. He seems to have it programmed to the Super Extra Mega Evil Insane mode that the Athena and Ares kids invented just for him, since he smoked all the other levels. He dodges a shot of lava with a laugh, throwing himself to the side and hanging on with three fingers and one scuffed sneaker poised on the tiniest sliver of rock. His attention is broken when Lou Ellen sticks her face right in Nico’s field of vision, tracing Nico’s eyeline with narrowed eyes.
“Ah,” she nods knowingly. “You’re staring at his ass.”
Nico falters, damn near slicing his own fingers off. “No idea what you’re talking about,” he says blithely. He gestures without looking at his sword. “I’m busy, see?”
She scoffs. “Real busy. That’s why you almost just did emergency surgery on yourself.”
“Exactly.”
Will pushes up a foot, shifting his hips and launching himself upwards. He makes a little shout of victory, plastering himself to the wall to keep balance, every muscle tensed.
From his place on the floor, Cecil makes an appreciative noise. “He does have a nice ass. Can’t blame you for looking.”
Nico frowns. “Hey. Stop objectifying my boyfriend.” He reaches out and smacks a hand over Cecil’s eyes. “That’s my job.”
“You guys are ridiculous.”
Nico reaches over and puts a hand over her eyes, too, ‘cause there’s no missing where they’re pointed.
“Shut up or I’ll literally put shadows into your retinae and blind you forever,” Nico threatens. (Is this a thing he can do? No. Do his friends know this? Also no.)
“You’re a dictator!” Cecil protests.
“Depriving us of basic human rights!” Lou Ellen agrees.
Nico shrugs. He glances back up the the climbing wall, where he has a very perfect view — and a great reason to never even try to climb faster than Will does. He grins.
“Too bad for you guys.”
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headphonegrl · 3 days
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“Do you feel old?” You ask Jude, your voice hoarse from performing multiple songs back to back on the garish karaoke machine his mum had rented out for the occasion. There are now at least a dozen badly shot videos of you singing in Jude’s camera roll, including a rendition of ‘happy birthday’ sung by you and his brother where half his index finger is covering the lens. 
“What’d you mean?” After hours of displaying nothing but rash energy, Jude finally feels himself getting sluggish while trying to endure the unbearable gnawing feeling of pins and needles rising up his legs; a big plush sofa sits untouched on the other side of the living room but you’ve both decided to drunkenly cram yourselves onto the armchair in a mess of tangled limbs. 
“Just a silly question.” As you flutter your eyes shut, Jude tries to get a proper look at the glitter eyeshadow you had meticulously applied earlier that evening. In the wake of a large round of tequila shots, some of his friends had insisted on having their own ‘sparkle stuff’ and began queuing at the bathroom door like kids waiting to get their face painted like a tiger at the zoo. “Do you feel any older yet?”
“I’m not sure.” It’s the kind of question he’d once been asked in the primary school playground, with a blue birthday badge pinned proudly onto the fabric of his uniform. Back then it seemed very easy and obvious to answer plainly with a ‘no’, though now he’s finding himself stumped for a reply entirely. “Do you ever feel like that?”
“I think the last age I felt was seventeen.” You say definitively as if you've thought about it at great length before. Jude hadn’t known you at that age, but his home screen for almost a year was a photo your mum had shown him of you pulling a horrific face while blowing out the candles of your seventeenth birthday cake. 
“That’s probably the same for me.” Embarrassingly, Jude had once referred to himself as a ‘seventeen-year-old’ during a frenzied post-match interview and then had to sheepishly correct himself by clarifying that he had just turned nineteen. Sometimes he feels like the years are slipping through his fingers like sand and there’s no sufficient way to stop them.
“Then before that it was twelve.” You continue as you do a little cat-like stretch with your free arm which Jude finds incredibly endearing along with everything else you do; he supposes it’s a very common side-effect when it comes to being in love.
“I found being twelve proper boring.”  It was something he remembers expressing even at that age. Just as if he had been dropped off somewhere by his childhood and was painstakingly waiting for his teenage years to finally pick him up and take him somewhere exciting. “It’s such an in-between age.”
“That’s true.” The sky in the open window behind you is that awkward shade of grey that appears just before sunrise, like a page when a printer begins to suddenly run out of ink.
“I wish we’d known each other as kids.” Jude feels as though he goes through life with your name humming inside his chest like a second heart and yet this sentence seems so intimate that he can’t even look at you as speaks. Instead, he takes extra care and attention towards staring at the ceiling and inspecting all the sparse helium balloons that have floated up towards it.
“So do I.” Your words come out as a dozy whisper and Jude finds himself smiling up at a star-shaped foil balloon. He’s not twelve or seventeen, but he’s just turned twenty and loves you so much that he doesn’t even care that both of his legs have gone completely numb from sitting with you on this unbearably uncomfortable armchair.
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vivalarevolution · 6 hours
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𝓢𝓸𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓭
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Feyd Rautha x Concubine Reader
Summary: Na-Baron never felt such hunger as when he was with her. He wanted to own her body and soul in every way. And she was more than happy to let him do anything he wanted.
A/N: This was essentially based on my fantasies and desire for Feyd Rauth, so forgive me if his characterization is not identical to movies or books. But nevertheless, I hope you will like it and you'll enjoy reading it.
Please remember that english is not my native language and mistakes can happen.
Story is a heavy smut , minors do not interact.  
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-Don't take your eyes off the mirror, don't you dare turn away - he growled into her ear , biting her lobe seconds later, as his hands assaulted her exhausted flesh.
She thought she felt him on every inch of her body.
Her neck , her breasts , her shoulders , her ribs , her hips , her thighs , her calves. On each of them there was an invisible mark in the shape of na-Baron's hand that burned her skin so pleasantly that she never wanted the feeling to go away.
-Whatever you want…whatever you want my na-Baron - she mewled, focusing her gaze on the man behind her, on the way his once-blue eyes immerse into a darkness of desire, on the way the veins on his hands pulsed intensely and on the way the muscles under his skin tightened with every movement of his pale body.
-What did I tell you some many times before? - he said , in a dangerously low and cold tone , suddenly grabbing her by her neck , placing his long fingers on her jaw to point her face in his direction -In this chambers you will call me Feyd , when I tear off your clothes you will call me Feyd , when I push you against the wall and fuck you until your body submits to my will, you shall call me Feyd - he purred, looking intensely into her eyes, which held so much love for him that it made him obsessed with her more and more.
-Forgive me Feyd - she whispered into his mouth , letting her head fall on the man's broad shoulder.
-You want my forgiveness? - he asked , running his thumb over her full, reddened lips - Then beg - he demanded , tightening his grip on her throat.
-Feyd..ah! - she moaned as he slid his thick shaft out of her tight, hot canal only to push it back in, this time much more aggressively and deeply, making the head of the memeber kiss her cervix.
-I'm waiting, darling - he growled, kissing the left side of her face, never stopping the torturous movement of his hips, which made her unable to form a single word -Is this how you want to beg for my forgiveness? I expected more from you - he confessed , inhaling her intoxicating scent.
-No...no - she denied , grabbing his large hand , which held her waist in a possessive grip , desperately trying to focus , at least for a moment - Please...forgive me Feyd...forgive me I beg you...I need you...oh I need you so much - she cried out , grabbing the nape of his neck with her other hand , trying to taste his lips - Please...I need you more than air...I need you Feyd - she mumbled , looking at him with half-closed eyelids , feeling that another orgasm was approaching inexorably to deprive her of the rest of control she had left.
Harkonnen in response joined their lips together , kissing her deeply , wrapping his tongue around hers , running his teeth over her lower lip ,biting it hard enough to taste her sweet blood on his taste buds , while his loins slammed roughly into her , making his manhood abuse her insides , reaching so deep that stars appeared in front of her eyes and her legs began to twitch uncontrollably , threatening to make her fall.
Feyd ,feeling his lover cumming and squeezing his member so intensely that he could not move , growled like an enraged beast , biting her shoulder , thrusting his hips against her , despite the resistance , marking her walls with black cum that dribbled lazily from her swollen folds , directly onto her wet inner thighs.
-My sweet pet - he said into the hollow of her neck , sliding his hand over her body trembling from orgasm -What did I tell you at the beginning? - he asked , massaging her ample breasts that were spilling between his fingers.
Woman looked at him with clouded eyes , fanatically trying to remember.
-Don't take your eyes off the mirror, don't you dare turn away - she whispered hesitantly , returning her gaze to the mirror , but it was too late.
-You seem to be breaking my every single order - he observed, trailing his hand along her curvy body - Maybe I should break you , so that you learn to obey me - he wondered, suddenly grabbing her long, thick hair, positioning her head so that she was looking at her reflection and nothing else.
-Lord Feyd…-she began but was not given the chance to finish , when na-Baron attacked her exhausted body.
He tore out of her one orgasm after another. He pounded inside her more brutally and deeply with each climax, until his sweet girl was barely awake , full of his black, thick cum.
-I'm not done with you yet pet- he growled , pushing her onto black ,satin sheets.
The woman's body sank onto the mattress without a shadow of an objection. Her heart rumbled in her ears , while her lungs greedily took in air that hot and heavy made her consciousness slip between her fingers leaving behind a shell of her former self.
And in Feyd Rautha's opinion, his eyes have never seen anything more beautiful and sinful.
His hands were restless , touching her legs with the precision of a hunter who had captured his prey , and was now ready to feast . His mouth tasted her skin , savoring the softness and firmness of it. But he did not stop at her legs , no , he went higher , higher and higher , until his blue eyes rested on puffy womanhood , red from overwhelming pleasure and dirty from the amount of harkonnen cum that poured out of her center in excessive amounts.
His tongue ran along her folds , stopping at her clit, kissing and sucking it, making the woman trap him in a cage of her thighs, which he gladly accepted, embracing her hips, drawing her even closer to his pale face , making her scream.
His hunger was uncontrollable.
He feasted on her for hours, his mouth never stopping, too intoxicated by the addictive taste, that was dripping out of her, marking his face in the transparent liquid that he drank like nectar.
And when he finally was done , her mind was no longer present , and her body no longer listened to her. She was breathing heavily , her sweaty, naked body was shivering , while her doe eyes follow the man above her. Only when he chose to leave her bed , she decided to close them , welcoming the pleasant darkness.
But he didn't leave the chambers , he didn't go to the rest of his concubines like he had a habit of doing , no. Instead he returned to her , taking her limp body in his strong arms , hiding her from harsh outside world , stroking her naked back , while his lips kissed her cheeks decorated with dried tears.
-Mine - he whispered into her soft skin - Mine and mine alone.
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valeskafics · 19 hours
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"Cherish" - Feyd Rautha x Wife!Reader
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a/n: combined a request for pregnant!reader with feyd not wanting reader to leave the bed + feyd fluff 🩷
Summary: Feyd wishes to spend a while longer in bed with you, cherishing your time alone.
TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, pregnancy, pregnancy kink, breeding kink, oral f receiving, face sitting, lactation kink, creampie, p in v sex
Word Count: 1,250
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Dune characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷
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Mornings with Feyd are a struggle for one reason and one reason alone. Your husband despises it when you leave your shared bed. And it’s gotten even worse since Dr. Suk confirmed your delicate condition. Your and Feyd’s tireless efforts at conceiving a child have finally borne fruit. You’re pregnant, only two months from delivery now, in fact. You feel his arm wrapped around you, his hand caressing your growing belly. You smile at how protective he is of you and the little one, even in his sleep. And when you try to move out from under his arm, he lets out a low, annoyed hiss, almost like a cat that’s had its ball of yarn taken away from it.
“Stay.”
His words are a low rasp, one that has you smiling to yourself as you struggle to sit up, “It’s time for breakfast, my love.”
You bite back the moan building in your throat as he moves his hand lower, to the apex between your thighs, his breath hot against your ear as he murmurs, “But I have such a sweet little treat right here…”
You turn to face him, giving him a light swat against his bare chest. Not for the first time, you’re blown away by just how handsome your husband is, your heartbeat quickening at the sight of his angular face, those intense eyes peering at you, half-lidded with sleep. You lean in to press a kiss against his temple, moving your lips to brush against his jaw next.
“Good morning, my husband,” you breathe against his lips, feeling him smile against you.
You watch as Feyd sits up, his hand moving to your stomach, caressing it as he smiles gently, an expression that he reserves only for you, “How do you feel this morning?”
“Sleepy,” you admit, “My back was sore last night. It took me a while to fall asleep.”
“Why didn’t you wake me?” Feyd frowns, his hand moving to rest against your lower back, the gesture making your heart warm, “I could’ve stayed awake with you.”
“You were sleeping so peacefully…”
Feyd presses a finger to your lips, silencing you with a stern look, “Next time you experience even the slightest discomfort, I want you to wake me, little one.”
You roll your eyes, taking his hand in your own and pressing a kiss to his fingertip, smiling mischievously, “As you wish, my Lord Feyd.”
The serious expression on his face melts into something far more tender, a soft smile gracing his features as he leans in to press a kiss to your lips. Feyd lifts the fabric of your nightgown, pressing a kiss to your stomach next, whispering to the life growing inside of you.
“Good morning, little Leto.”
You beam at Feyd, pleased that he’s agreed to name your son after your beloved father. He chuckles as you pull him into another kiss, your lips moving desperately against his as he pulls you into his lap. It hasn’t escaped Feyd’s notice how much you seem to long for him in this vulnerable state, whether it be his protection, his affection, or the pleasure he’s content to give to you any morning, noon, or night. At this moment, it seems you’re interested in the latter, judging by how eagerly you’re palming at him over the fabric of his sleeping pants. Feyd shakes his head, grinning at you.
“Eager, wanton little baroness.”
“Cruel, selfish baron,” you pout, “Your wife requires your touch. Your care. She carries your son inside her womb and even now you seek to deny her?”
Feyd shakes his head, laying back and gazing up at you as you straddle his waist. You pull your nightgown over your head, baring your body to him. Your breasts are fuller than they were a few months ago, the sight of which has Feyd’s mouth watering. The sight of your swollen belly and the realization that it’s his child that grows inside of you has his cock growing painfully hard as you rub yourself against him. He moves his hands to caress your hips, moving down to your ass, giving you a playful slap as you ease yourself onto his cock. He lets out a low groan, rolling his hips against yours as you bounce up and down on him.
“You look so beautiful,” Feyd mumbles, his voice hazy with lust as he stares up at you, “Like a goddess. You ought to let me have a shrine built to you.”
“Only if you have one built for yourself beside me,” you murmur, brushing your lips against his with a smile, your hands resting on his chest, feeling each breath, the way each muscle moves, “My sweet, handsome husband. My lord.”
Feyd sits up on his elbows, taking one of your breasts in his mouth, suckling eagerly, letting your milk flow onto his tongue, the sweet taste making him eager for more. His lips are greedy, teeth nipping at your sensitive flesh as you continue bouncing up and down on his cock, feeling him hit the spot inside you that your fingers can never quite reach. When the flow from your right breast stops, he moves to your left, his palm moving up to squeeze and soothe you.
You reach your peak as he mouths at your breast, his hand holding your hips in place as he continues to take his fill, rutting up against you over and over and over until he spills himself inside you, watching his spend leak from your swollen cunt. But, he doesn’t seem to want this lazy morning together to be over.
“Sit on my face, little one,” Feyd rasps, pulling you in gently by the hips, “Let me taste you.”
You move up to do as he asks, rubbing your pearl against his nose as he laps at you eagerly, hands grasping at your thighs as you ride his face, the mixture of your arousal and his tasting tart yet not unpleasant on his tongue. Feyd thinks he could die a happy man like this, feasting on your sweet cunt, but he knows you would slap his chest and scold him if he ever said such a thing. That you’d threaten him if he ever even thought of dying before you. Perhaps the two of you will die together, he muses as you squeal his name, your thighs tremble as your fingers move against your swollen bud. Your bodies buried together on Giedi Prime, laid to rest in each other’s arms for all eternity. It’s macabre, but Feyd can’t think of anything more romantic.
After you reach your peak, Feyd is surprised when you move off of him, cuddling up against his side, pressing featherlight kisses along his jaw. You trace the tip of his nose, his cheekbones, down his chin to his neck, just smiling at him serenely. His breath catches in his throat at the tenderness in your touch, the genuine love in your eyes as you continue pressing kisses to his neck. His hand moves to your cheek, cupping it gently, his voice barely above a whisper as he speaks.
“I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.”
You beam at him, radiant as ever, glowing as a woman in love does, “Oh, Feyd… It’s me who doesn’t deserve you. Let’s stay in bed a little longer, like you wanted.”
His heart soars as he wraps you in his arms, cherishing this moment where it’s only the two of you.
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the-modern-typewriter · 14 hours
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A villain who doesn't want to harm the hero, is trying to take them down as gently as possible and thinks the hero is the one being crazy about this, while the hero is desperately fighting to protect the world.
Bonus points if the villain is the hero's big sibling or similar figure.
"Father wanted to put you in an institution," their sibling said. "There was no way I was going to allow that." They carded their fingers through the hero's hair, soothing, like they were still five years old and waking up from a bad dream. "Those places are awful. They'd hurt you."
"I can't move."
"It's okay. You're okay."
"The - the tea. You." The realisation of it choked off in the hero's throat. Sharp. Catching. Betrayal.
"I told father I'd handle it," their sibling said, almost absently.
"Handle me."
"Yes." Their sibling ducked to gather up the jagged shards of the fallen mug, depositing them on the coffee table. They met the hero's eyes. "Handle you."
The hero glared. They willed their noodled limbs to move, but all they got for their efforts was nearly crumpling to the floor again. Their sibling caught them, steadied them, pushed them back into the chair. The hero's heart thudded wildly beneath their palms.
"He wasn't having it though," their sibling continued. "He told me that you needed to be corrected, by any means necessary. He told me that it was just the place for a crazy person like you. That you'd bring shame on the family." They grimaced. "You know father."
The hero did, unfortunately, know their father.
They also knew their sibling though. They knew they were drugged up in their own living room, not being wrestled into a straight-jacket somewhere for some non-consensual therapy sessions.
"What did you do to him?" it came out raspy.
Their sibling smiled, small and grim. "He should have known better. Just like you should have known better, but you always were a little idiot, so no shockers there."
"...what are you going to do to me?" That was, perhaps, the better question. Their mind still felt sharp, after all, even if nothing in their body wanted to cooperate with them.
"Do you think I'd hurt you?"
"You hurt father."
"Father was a jackass. You're just stupid."
"I'm trying to make the world better!"
"Yeah," their sibling said. "Stupid."
"It's not stupid!"
"I'm not going to debate this with you."
"Just drug my tea!?"
"Eh, that was for your own good. For all his many sins, father wasn't totally wrong. You do need help. A friendly intervention."
"They'll come for me. My friends will come for me."
Their sibling shrugged. "I have no such reservations hurting them."
The hero swallowed. Their mouth still felt dry, sticky and cloyingly sweet. They searched their sibling's face for any sign of a lie. They found none.
"You know what father and his friends are doing is wrong," the hero said after a beat; maybe just frantic to see some glimmer of recognition of that fact.
Their sibling shrugged again, easy. "Sure."
"You could help us fight them. You could come with me. You could...keep me safe. That's what you want, right? To keep me safe."
"Your friends aren't going to kill you. You're perfectly safe like this."
"But what father's friends are doing - don't you - you have to care."
Their sibling raised an eyebrow.
The hero wanted to snarl. As ever, it seemed, their sibling did not have to care about anyone or anything. Who cared about the world if going along with monstrosity was easier?!
"Don't you care that I care?"
"You care about everything," their sibling rolled their eyes. "You held a funeral for the fish."
"He was my pet!"
"He was a fish."
"This is nothing like the fish!"
Their sibling straightened up with a sigh, looking down on them, hands on hips. "I've made my decision."
"Fuck you."
"I don't expect you to be happy about it, but you're gonna deal with it. You're underage. That makes you my responsibility. I'll let you go when this all blows over."
"You mean when father's friends finish wrecking the world?"
"Don't be so overdramatic."
"You drugged me and I'm overdramatic?"
"Overdramatic looks better on me. I have the cheekbones for it."
"This isn't funny!"
"No." Their sibling's voice shifted, abruptly. "It isn't. Do you want me to get serious?"
The hero...paused. The air suddenly felt oppressive.
"I am being very gentle," their sibling said. "And you are infinitely squishy and breakable. Father's institution would have crushed you into teeny tiny pieces, so shattered that you didn't even care anymore. You would kill your friends if they asked, by the time they were done."
The hero swallowed, stricken, horrified.
"Tell me again how unfunny this is," their sibling said. "Like you think I'm stupid."
The hero shook their head.
As swiftly as the storm had come, their sibling offered them a sunny smile. The tension vanished as they booped the hero's nose.
"We're going to get through so many film nights. It's going to be great. Now." They reached for the coffee table. "Have some more tea."
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charliemwrites · 2 days
Text
Masterlist: Greater Bad
Government Asset!Soap
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
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help-itrappedmyself · 7 hours
Text
Dead on Main part 8
Formatting on my phone is weird 🥲
Masterpost
Jason gets up quickly. He may not have his muscle memory in this body, but he still knows how to fight. Has known all his life. He can adapt to this body’s size and strength if he needs to.
He gets ready to defend himself, searching the alley for what hit him and seeing a… glowing figure approaching him. It looked like a vampire. This town is weird, what the fuck.
“What the fuck?” Jason spits out.
“Really, Daniel. Is that language really necessary?” The vampire asks as he floats towards him.
“Plasmius, leave him alone.” Jazz runs in and plants herself in front of Danny. “Please, can you not do this right now? We're already in the middle of a situation.”
“Well, this all could have been avoided if you had agreed to speak with me earlier.” Plasmius lifts his arm and a shot of what seems like pink energy shoots towards them, he both dive to the side.
Jason, body pumping with adrenaline, rolls and pops back up. And realizes he rolled through the alley wall. His body was glowing green, his feet were floating off of the ground, and he backs his way slowly out of the store he landed in and back out into the alley. He walks through the wall again.
Okay. He wasn't expecting to deal with a weird amount of meta powers today, but he can do this. The surge of power feels almost like the pit madness. Nicer, and more controlled. It's focused somehow, and he knew how to channel his pit rage at it's most uncontrollable. This power wants to be used.
Jason looks over in time to dodge another pink blast. Plaamius stalks toward him, and Jason lifts his fist to fight, feels power surge in them, his hand glow brighter, and when he releases the pent up surge green energy shoots at Plasmius the same way the pink was shit at him.
Alright, floating, glowing, walking through walls, and energy blast things. This is fine.
Plasmius and Jason trade blasts for a few minutes, squaring off in the alley. The blasts leave slight burn marks behind where the hit the surrounding area. Jason is careful to keep the shooting away from Jazz, but she isnt leaving.
She was digging around in her bag, but know she's flanking Plasmius. Like he can sense her, Plasmius goes to attack Jazz. Everything in Danny’s body reacts to that.
Jason flings himself in front of the shit, taking the hit in the chest, but manages to punch Plasmius away from Jazz.
Jason doubles over at the hit, feet hitting the ground for the first time since he went through the wall. That felt different than anything he'd ever felt. It burned where it hit him, but he felt it resonate through his whole body. He wants to help but he’s still realing from the hit.
He sees Jazz facing off with Plasmius and he tries to get up and help, he feels that same response from earlier, everything in Danny reacting to Jazz in danger, but he can't get up and something inside of him aches at that. At having to stay back and watch as Jazz enters the line of fire.
Jazz was holding something behind her back, but she brings it forward. Plaamius turns, it seems like he's trying to run, but whatever she's holding sucks Plasmius into it.
She keeps it pointed away from Jason as she pulls her arms back in and closes the lid.
“Is that a thermos?” Jason asks.
“Yeah.”
Jason nods slowly, taking stock of himself again now that the fight seems to be over. “Right. How do I stop doing… this?” He gestures to all of Danny, still glowing and green.
Jazz winces.
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