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imyourbratzdoll · 9 hours

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𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒔

🕊️a whore's farytale masterlist🕊️

summary - the town's beauty (you) finds herself bargaining her life for her fathers, will the cursed beasts go easy on her? or figure out that she's the one who can break their curse?

warning - smut, monster-fucking, choking, blood play, oral, creampie, name calling, being restrained, biting, refused orgasm/edging, foursome (sorta), being passed around, swearing, death, forced voyeurism, obsessive man, grabbing, groping, trapped, held hostage, slight angst.

18+ only please, the gifs I use aren't mine, header created by me.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

The story began with three brothers, they were the same in personality but so different in looks. But the universe had other plans for the pompous Princes, the night of their party was the night a certain witch decided to teach them a lesson, one that would not only make their personalities the same, but also their looks. The sound of music and chatter could be heard from outside the castle with how loud it was. Ari, Logan and Geralt– the Princes, are dressed exceptionally well. Only the finest of clothing fits their bulky forms, expensive jewels decorate their body. Ari and Geralt both have their hair tied back in a slick ponytail, one longer than the other. A silky silver matches Geralt’s light gray suit, while Ari wears a silky blue, matching his darker blue suit. Logan has his hair slicked back, although slightly messier with a few strands falling in front of his face, the look doesn’t make him any less handsome. He wears a silky black suit, the colour looking almost devilish on him.

The brothers split from one another, Ari strides toward a beautiful blonde, twirling her as he pulls her toward the dance floor. Logan stalks off to the bar, glaring at anyone that gets in his way and Geralt heads toward a group of women, already flaunting themselves at him. The party is wild as the guests enjoy themselves, none aware of the storm brewing outside. An old woman trembles as she stands before the large doors, her wrinkled hands shake as she knocks, the sound echoing throughout the room, stopping the party momentarily. The three brothers turn, looking at the door and then to each other, a scowl on their faces, wondering who dares interrupt their party. Logan head tips back as the alcohol slides down his throat before he slams the glass down, his other two brothers express their deepest apologies. All three head towards the door, it may seem a bit extreme, but the three never go anywhere without each other. The only thing that they didn’t do together was share a woman.

Ari’s hands wrap around the handles, flinging the door open and they scowl down at the ugly old lady before them. “What do you want?” The men stand there, their bulky builds taking up the whole doorway.

“P–Please, may I come in for some shelter?” The old woman shivers, her nimble hands trembling and she clutches three roses. She offers them to the three princes, “I offer these roses for your kindness.” Her lips quiver, the cold seeming to get to her.

Logan scoffs. “God, no. Find somewhere else you wretched old hag.” The other two nod, not hiding their disgust. A shriek escapes their lips as suddenly the ugly hag magically shifts into a beautiful woman. “What the…”

Her face is set in stone, a harsh glare in her eyes. “Despicable. You’d think Princes like yourselves would be kinder. But, alas you have failed the test.”

“What? What test? You are welcome to come in, Miss.” Geralt stumbles, shamelessly checking out the Enchantress. Her lip curls as though she can see the dirty thoughts swirling around in his mind.

Her head tilts, the three roses suddenly being encased in three glass domes, the beautiful flowers floating in the centre. “No. For the curse to be broken, you will have to find someone that will want you, all of you.”

Ari scoffs. “Please. We can have anyone want us, are you blind?”

The Enchantress smirks. “What I mean is for them to want all of you in your true forms.” Suddenly magic swirls around the men and their bodies begin to grow and shred, thick luscious fur replacing flesh. Sharp claws replace nicely kept fingernails, eyes turning a bright golden-yellow. Growls begin to fill the air as canines spurt from their gums, replacing their human teeth. The usual men now beasts stood at eight-feet, towering over the witch and before they could strike, she disappeared. Her words rang in their head. ‘If you do not find someone who truly wants you before the last petal falls, you will be stuck as beasts forever.’

Years pass and nearby in a small village, a beautiful young woman named Y/n-Belle hurries through the town. You greeted people as you passed by, a warm smile resting upon your lips. You hurried over to your favourite store, which happened to be the bookstore, a giant grin appears as you push the door open and stumble through, the excitement vibrating throughout your whole body. Y/n-Belle was a very strange, but smart woman, you were the only one in town that got excited about books and reading, causing you to become an outcast and lonely within the people. But you didn’t mind, you were quite content with living in your fantasies.

The bookstore owner heads over to you, a smile on his face as he hands you one of your favourites. A book that you’ve read a thousand of times, yet would never tire of reading it. You smile, a dreamy look appearing on your face as you peer down at the book, your soft hands grabbing it gently, fingers stroking the cover. “This is my favourite! Far-off places, daring sword fights, magic spells, a prince in disguise…” You pause, your imagination flashing before your eyes as you play out the words in the book. You blink, coming back into reality and you give the man a smile. “Oh, thank you very much!”

You spin, your blue and white dress swishing around you. You rush outside, the book already opened and your eyes flickering over the words as you walk. Your head was stuck in the book, not noticing the town's most handsome hunter heading straight for you. “Y/n-Belle!” You were hoping that if you ignored him that he would go away, but that did not seem to be the case. He stopped in front of you, nearly causing you to topple over. Gaston chuckles, “the whole town’s talking about you! It’s not right for a woman to read,” He shakes his head, chuckling as if the thought alone was funny. Yet, you had somehow figured that he’s never picked up a book in his life, his small mind proving that the more he talks. “It’s about time you got your nose out of those books and paid attention to more important things— like me!” He boasts, puffing his chest out like he is the most desirable thing to live and breathe. Truthfully, none of the men in your village caught your fancy. You were more into, well… Beasts.

You desperately try to get away without being rude, not in the mood to deal with a petulant child. You could see your escape, but as you opened your mouth to leave. Gaston’s “friend” joined, beginning to insult your father without much of a hello. Your brows furrowed and your lips pursed. “My father is not crazy! He’s a genius, but you are too stupid to realise that!” You blow up, letting your anger consume you without thinking properly. An explosion interrupts the men from responding, the sound coming from your cottage where your father is currently working on something. Without much thought, you take off running.

You arrive at the cottage, finding your father. Gaston’s words replay in your head, you sit on top of a barrel that is in your front yard. “They think I’m odd, Papa.” You play with your fingers, picking some dirt from underneath your fingernails.

“Don’t worry, Y/n-Belle. My inventions are going to change everything for us. We won’t have to live in this little town forever.” He says with a giant smile, one that used to give you hope to his dreams. But they slowly begin to dwindle as his inventions haven’t gotten any better, but you don’t want to ruin his dreams by voicing your concerns. You watch as he mounts your horse, Philippe, setting off for the fair with his new invention. “Goodbye, Y/n-Belle! Don’t worry about what others say, you will go places!”

Maybe you did still have hope, especially when he gives you another one of his smiles and a wave. You return it, watching as he goes. “Goodbye! Good luck, I believe in you, father!”

Still at the cottage, you don’t know that your father got lost on his way and the events following would eventually lead you to your future, whether it be good or bad. But it would definitely be strange, and full of twists and turns.

You sit inside, your head in your book again. Even though you had read it many times, it would still be your favourite. You are pulled out of your fantasy world as you hear a knock at the door. You get up, slowly opening it and sighing as you see Gaston on the other side. “Gaston! What a… pleasant surprise!” You force a tiring smile on your lips.

Gaston strolls in, taking his shoes off, exposing his dirty and very used socks. He takes a seat at the head of the table, placing his dirty feet on top of your favourite book, causing it to become dirty. A scowl appears upon your face at the disrespect of this man. “Y/n-Belle! There’s not a woman in town who wouldn’t love to be in your shoes. Do you know why? Because I want to marry you!”

You huff silently, knowing that the only way you could get out of this is if you politely decline and make it seem as though you weren’t worthy of him. “Gaston, I’m speechless!” You gnaw on your bottom lip, hating that this disgusting pig of a man won’t leave you alone. “I’m sorry, but… but…” You swallow, knowing you will have to force these words out. “I just don’t deserve you!” You force back scrunching your nose in disgust, watching as humiliation falls upon his face.

Without a word he stumbles out, hastily putting on his shoes causing him to trip, slipping into some mud. You peeked out, placing a hand over your lips to cover the giggle that threatened to escape past them, watching as the villagers gathered around, hoping to see some sort of wedding or at least a celebration. Only to witness their friend and fellow villager fall into some mud, causing Gaston to feel even more humiliated than before. You’d hope that would at least knock his ego down a few pegs.

You waited until everyone had disappeared from your home before rushing out to feed the chickens. You hear something causing your head to whip around and you find your horse, Philippe, alone without your father. You head over to him, checking for something, anything. “Philippe! What are you doing here? Where’s Papa?!” He whines anxiously and you immediately rush to the house to grab your cloak before running back to him and climbing onto his back. You feel frightened as you think of all the possibilities of what could’ve happened to your father. This feeling pushes you to return to the mysterious forest, allowing you to find a castle that looks like it has been abandoned for many years.

You try and steady, Philippe, brows furrowing when you spot something on the ground. With swift movements, you dismount your horse and move toward the object. A soft gasp passes your lips as you recognise your father’s hat. Without a second thought, you hurry toward the gloomy castle, pushing past the heavy doors and deciding to wander the vast deserted corridors. Your main focus was to find your father, no care of what may happen to you. “Papa? Are you here? It’s Y/n-Belle!” You were met with silence, you continued your search not knowing of the objects that are alive because of the curse within the castle walls.

You stumble along as you finally discover your father locked away in a cell. You gasp, having to kneel as the only opening was at feet level. “Papa! We have to get you out of here!” Suddenly you felt as though you were being watched.

“What’re you doing here?”

“You shouldn’t be in our castle, Little one.”

“Leave now!”

Your eyes widen when you hear three different voices coming from within the shadows. “Please, let my father go! Take me instead!”

There was a scoff filled with curiosity from the shadows. “You would take his place?”

“S–step into the light please…” You asked. Your expression morphed as you stared horrified at three huge, ugly Beasts– well, they weren’t ugly… But you wouldn’t let them know that between your thighs you felt yourself clench around nothing. You gulped, you didn’t want to be anywhere near these monsters, but you agreed to take your father’s place. “I–” You swallow the saliva that gets stuck in your throat. “I would. I will take his place.” Your words left no room for argument, you were putting your foot down. You didn’t know that you signed up for forever with the three Beasts.

As the words left your lips, one of the Beasts grabbed your father from his cell and dragged him throughout the castle, once outside he was thrown into a carriage that would take him home. The other two begin to walk, causing you to follow behind nervously. The third joining immediately, you let your eyes wander. Taking everything in, it felt like one of those books you always had your nose buried in.

Your voice cuts through the silence, sounding as though it echoes through the dark halls. “D–do you three have names?” As I don’t want to continue calling you Beasts in my head, you think the last bit to yourself. Knowing it would be rude of you to voice out loud.

“Ari.”

“Logan.”

“Geralt.”

They growl out, hardened eyes landing on your tiny form. Ari steps toward you, towering over you as you shiver, your eyes wide and you try to shrink into yourself. “Our castle is your home now, so you can go anywhere you like…”

Geralt cuts in. “Except the West Wing.”

You stare back, innocently asking. “What’s in the West Wing?”

Their bodies tense and they glare as Logan growls out. “It’s forbidden!” Geralt opens a door to your new bedroom and pushes you in.

“You will join us for dinner. That’s not a request.” Ari stares you down, stopping you from protesting. They shut the door and stalk off, separating to different parts of the castle. You lie down on the bed, burying your face into the pillows. You knew you would never escape this prison, nor would you ever see your father again. Maybe you should’ve married Gaston, at least then you wouldn’t be stuck with Beasts.

The disgusting truth though was how much you weren’t disgusted by their forms. Their behaviour. It was definitely something out of those books you read, just less romantic and more animalistic. You huff, shaking your head of those thoughts. You will in no way let them find out about this. It was something different than other women would fantasie about and you didn’t want those… FREAKS! To judge you.

You refused to go to dinner when the time came, knowing you wouldn’t be able to contain yourself if you stayed in the same room as them for too long. Oh, how your father would be disgraced by the woman you’ve become. You had grown bored and hungry and had decided to wander the castle in hopes of finding the kitchen. With quiet footsteps, you exited your room and tiptoed down the halls, peaking your head around corners and stopping whenever you heard the slightest of noises.

You were no fool, the Beasts had been mad when you refused to dine with them and if one of them were to find you wandering the halls in search of food. Well you fear you may become theirs instead. Though, you wouldn’t mind them… No, you couldn’t let your thoughts wander for too long.

A small squeal passes your lips when you finally stumble upon the kitchen, happily making your way over to the fridge before a voice interrupts, causing your heart to drop into your stomach.

“You know… If you had come to dinner. You wouldn’t be so hungry now.” The voice was deep, a growl slipping through with each word. You spin, eyes wide as they land on Logan, how had you missed such a big figure? You squeak, not knowing what to reply with. Logan raises a furry brow, “Cat got your tongue, Little one?” He moves fast, now towering over you. “Or should I say Beast?”

Your thighs press together, a whimper slipping past your lips and your wide eyes stare up at him. “I–I…” Stupid, why the hell would you try to speak when you’re in this position? Your voice would give you away, you daft bimbo. You scowl at yourself, how could you be so dumb when you were the only one to read in your village? You gulp as he leans in with a smirk. You don’t know that their senses had heightened with their transformation, you had practically given yourself away since you broke into their castle.

“Hmm? No words?” Your hunger forgotten and replaced with something else. You notice how his hand, though actually a paw, comes up, a lit cigar between his clawed fingers, bringing it to his lips, puffing on it as he stares into your eyes watching as you follow his movements. “Ya know, my brothers are angry with the fact you ignored their invitation.”

Your eyes roll and you scoff. “Well, excuse me for not wanting to dine with those that are keeping me hostage.” His brow raises again, not expecting so many words to pass your lips. You gulp, where the hell did that come from?

“Huh, so you do say more than four words.” He leans closer if that was even possible, “Better watch your tone with me, Little one or else I’m gonna have to do something about it.” With those words, he disappears and you whimper. Fantastic, the only pair of knickers you have on you and they are completely drenched. You wouldn’t be surprised if the other two could smell you wherever they were.

You shakily prepare a small meal, hurriedly eating it so you don’t have another run in. When you finish, you swear you hear someone speak. But looking around, you find no one. Your brows furrow, are you finally going insane? You begin to get up when you hear it again.

“Excuse me, Miss.” You look around again, what the hell? “Down here, Miss.” You look down and let out a small squeak of surprise, there stands before you a small clock that seems alive? He blinks up at you, a smile on his face? “Hello. I am Cogsworth. I am sorry for frightening you.”

“I–it’s f–fine.” You clear your throat. “It’s fine. You didn’t frighten me, just a bit startled is all.” You try to smile, “Have you been here this whole time?” You hoped he hadn’t, you wouldn’t want to know what an object thought of the previous events.

Cogsworth shakes his head. “No, Miss. Master Logan ordered that I escort you back to your quarters. He doesn’t want you wandering about… In your condition.” His eyes squint, as though he understands yet how could you know he would? You had no clue that the alive object was once a person.

“Oh, okay.” You stand, smoothing down your dress about to follow but you stop. “Actually, Cogsworth. Would you mind giving me a tour of the castle, please?”

He looks at you for a few seconds, as though he was hesitating before he nods. “Okay, follow me. Miss.” You spend most of your night getting acquainted with your new home before you stop underneath a dark staircase. Noticing how Cogsworth seems to want to hurry past it without acknowledging it.

“What’s up there?” Your curiousity seeps through your words.

Cogsworth practically shakes as he answers. “Nothing, absolutely nothing of interest at all in the West Wing.” Your interest piqued as you heard West Wing. You watch as he’s too busy focusing on ensuring the two of you don’t get caught, especially near this staircase. Allowing you to escape unnoticed, racing up the staircase and into a long hallway lined with broken mirrors.

“Well… That’s bad luck for many, many years.” You wet your lips as you cautiously opened the doors at the end of the corridor. You enter the dank, filthy room strewn with broken furniture, torn curtains and grey, gnawed bones. Your eyes wide, taking it all in before they land on the only living object or should you say objects. There behind a glass dome were three shimmering roses. Entranced, Y/n–Belle lifted the cover and reached out to touch one soft, pink petal. You were so entranced that you did not hear Ari enter the room.

“I warned you never to come here!” He advanced on you. “GET OUT! GET OUT!” Your daze had been broken, desire now replaced with fear. You became terrified of his rage, causing you to turn and run. You run out of the room, down the stairs and past Cogsworth and a candle? You didn’t have time to stop, you needed to leave. Not even your lust for your fantasy to come true could stop you. Your feet had taken control of your body.

“Promise or no promise, I can’t stay here another minute!” You flee, finding your horse and taking off. You gallop through the snow until you are met with a pack of fierce, hungry wolves. Your eyes widen, mouth opening and closing as you don’t know whether to scream or breathe. Through your terror, you forgot about the horse you sat upon. He reared, causing you to fall to the ground, tumbling into the snow below. They were advancing on Philippe, so with quick movements, you found a large stick and defended your horse.

“Stay back!” You swing, swiping at them. Hoping and praying that they would leave. Their attention moved from your horse and you would’ve sighed of relief but instead you choked up, the wolves had now turned on you. Their canines bared as they snarl. Oh no, no no no. You thought, brows furrowing as worry fills you. Well, at least they are no longer after Philippe.

You shriek as they pounce, about to rip you apart until suddenly a large paw pulls the animals off of you. It was Ari and you notice Logan and Geralt standing behind him. Anger evident on their faces, you knew it was directed towards you for leaving and now nearly getting yourself killed. You struggle to your feet, stumbling into a pair of arms as all you can do is watch the wolves turn and strike Ari and Logan, fierce growls filling the cold air. The wolves were no match for the two, being torn off and flung as a ferocious howl escapes the Beasts, surprising the wolves before they flee into the night.

Logan grunts while Ari stumbles, collapsing into the snow. Wounded. The brothers attention now focused on him, Geralt’s hold loosening and this could’ve been your chance to escape. But what did you have at home? And when you looked at the fallen Beast, you knew you couldn’t leave him. Even though he had his brothers. Logan and Geralt pull Ari up, arms wrapped around him as he leaned against them. He was not the fighter of the two and not even he knew why he didn’t let Geralt fight in his place.

The Beasts barely spare you a glance, they began to walk away, expecting you to get on your horse and leave. But you didn’t move, with a heavy heart you watched them walk from you. Did your chance slip through your fingers? Philippe nudges you, looking at you with those big eyes and you sigh. He nudges you again, gesturing you to look and when you do, your mouth opens. The three Beasts had stopped, as if they were waiting for you and without a second thought. You grabbed your horse and raced toward them, offering your horse for Ari to rest on and to get to the castle faster so you could tend to his wounds.

Back at the castle, you cleaned Ari’s wound. “Thank you… For saving my life even though you didn’t have to.” You whisper, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. “I… I hope you can forgive me for running.” You look up from his wound to his face, not knowing the feeling he feels when you look at him like that.

His paw covers your hand, “There’s nothing to forgive, Beauty. I’m the one who should apologise for scaring you.” You shake your head, his gaze gets distracted by the way your hair frames your face and how the light of the sunrise hits your skin, causing you to glow. “Do you think I’m okay enough to walk for a bit? I have something I want to show you.”

Your brows furrow, looking between his wound and him. His face makes it hard for you to say no, but you also didn’t want him to hurt himself by moving too much. You look up again, being met with puppy dog eyes which makes it harder to resist when he’s not exactly human looking. “...Okay! Okay, but only for a little bit. I don’t want you hurting yourself and ruining all of my work.” You assist him as you help him up, allowing his arm to wrap around you. Which is quite difficult seeing as there is a massive height and size difference. Oh god, you begin to think what else is huge… How would you be able to possibly fit it inside of you? You shake your head, ridding yourself of those thoughts, hoping that the Beast wouldn’t catch on.

Ari leads you through the halls before stopping upon two large doors. He leans forward, opening them and you both walk inside. Your eyes widen and your mouth falls open. “Oh my god!” You look around, a gasp escaping your lips. “This is so beautiful! I’ve never seen so many books in all my life!”

Ari had smiled a real smile for the first time since he was a child. “Then it is yours.” You look at him in disbelief, you could’ve dropped to your knees right then and there.

…

Okay, so you did. You fell right to your knees, not caring that they scraped against the carpet or that a squeak of desire left you as you finally gave into your desire. Ari stared wide-eyed down at you, his mouth wide open as shock filled him. He was not expecting that, if he had known all it would take was giving you their library, he would’ve done that from the beginning. “What… What are you doing?”

Your eyes widen, finally reality hits. “Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry!” You go to stand, but his paw stops you, keeping you in place. You could feel your knickers dampen. Not the same ones, they had mysteriously gone missing when you went to shower before tending to Ari. But you were thankful to whoever laid out new clothes for you.

“I didn’t say you had to get up. I just have never seen someone drop to their knees so fast.” He felt himself harden, his cursed body did come with an added bonus. He was now much larger than his human self, he wasn’t small before. But now it was monstrous.

You watched with wide and lust filled eyes as his pants expanded, stretching to the point it looked as though the seams would break. “Can… Can I?” You gesture to his bulge, looking up at him with large, doe eyes.

“Fuck.” He nods, growling. “Go ahead, Beauty.” His golden-yellow eyes stare down at you, canines digging into his bottom lip as you press your hand against the bulge, feeling it, squeezing it. Your hand is tiny compared to him, causing a whimper to slip from your lips and a growl from his. “You gonna play with it or suck it?” He growls, frustrated. You squeeze your thighs together, grabbing the waistband of his pants and pulling them down. You let out a moan as his member springs free. Nearly slapping you in the face with how big it is.

You lean forward hesitantly, kissing his weeping tip before bringing it into your mouth and sucking. Your eyes slip closed as you moan around it, it felt so perfect against your tongue. It was a struggle to get the whole tip in your mouth, right now you could only get a small bit in. But you were going to make this work, you didn’t know when another opportunity like this would present itself. Ari watched from above as you struggled to fit him inside, groaning at the sight.

Your tongue flicked over the slit, collecting the pre-cum that leaks out. You let out a whimper as you slowly move further down his cock, taking more of him inside of your mouth. You can feel yourself dripping onto the floor with how wet you are. Ari’s paw slams down on a nearby bookshelf, his growls fill the room, echoing throughout the castle. You rest your hands on his furry thighs, gripping them as you force more of him in, mouth stretched as wide as it can, sucking him in. One hand moves to the rest you can’t fit in, no matter how much you try and force it to. You wrap it around the base, twisting and jerking while your head bobs up and down, tongue swirling and tracing his veins, causing more sounds to escape the Beast.

You don’t notice the two brothers that hide in the shadows, watching you suck off their brother. They felt themselves become filled with hope and desire, knowing you were the one that would break their curse. Ari grips your head, holding you down as he cums down your throat, watching it overflow and drip from the sides of your mouth, trying to swallow everything desperately like the good girl you are. When he pulls his cock free from your mouth, all three Beasts take a sharp breath at how good you looked covered in cum, your eyes glazed over with a need to be fucked.

After the events in the library, everything began to change. Throughout the month, you would find yourself suddenly pushed up against a wall, lips attached to any exposed flesh, hands beneath your dress or groping your breasts. You were so sexually frustrated, the Beasts would rile you up only to leave you wanting more. They would never let you cum, they weren’t even trying to get themselves off. You began to spend your time with them, always sitting on one of their laps, never straying far. If one found you reading or even just simply existing. You’d suddenly be under them, at some point you had cried, begging them to fuck you.

That evening you were sitting on Geralt’s lap, your lip pulled between your teeth as he gently grinds you down on his bulge. Stopping whenever he felt you were too close. Logan lounged across from you, a cigar dangling carelessly between his smirking lips as his dark eyes watched you. Your gaze was pulled from Logan when Ari leant behind him on the chair. “Are you happy, Y/n–Belle?”

You hum, a bit dazed and distracted by the tingles zapping between your thighs. “Yes. I am very happy, I only wish I could see my father and know he made it home safe. I miss him very much.”

Ari hummed in response, turning as if he’s searching for something. Geralt continues his torture on you, making your head fall back as you near your orgasm again, whining when he stops, taking it away. “There is a way.” You blink, trying to focus on what Ari is saying. He moves toward you, handing you a magic mirror. In it, you see your father being locked away as the town gathered around, lit torches in their hands as they chant about killing the Beasts and saving you. An unhappy look crosses your face as you see Gaston leading it. “If you need, you may go if you like.” The Beasts didn’t want you to leave.

You shake your head, “There is no point. There is a group already heading this way, it would be stupid of me to leave now.” Stupid Gaston always ruining your peace. Why was the man so adamant on marrying you? You stand, “I am going outside for a bit of fresh air, is that okay?” You could not think straight when in the same room as them, it was like all common sense flew out the window and the only thing you wanted was for them to use you.

Ari nods, Logan and Geralt scowl when they hear about people coming to their castle. Geralt had seen the look on your face when seeing that man appear in the mirror, a plan forms and he decides to share it with his brothers. Who wouldn’t love a live show?

Your coat flows around you as you exit the castle, cold air immediately hitting you. You wander over to the blooming rose bushes, gently brushing your fingers over the petals. A sudden squeal escapes you as someone grabs you, putting their arms around you and whispering into your ear. “Hello, MY Y/n–Belle. So far from home, why not come back, huh? Come back and I’ll forgive you, Y/n–Belle, come back and we can marry.” Gaston’s voice caused unwanted shivers to roll through you, his was not the voice you wanted to hear nor the arms you wanted around you.

“I will never marry you! Why can’t you get that through your thick head?!” You struggle against his grip, teeth clenched as your words come out rough. “You have gone mad, Gaston!”

Gaston grinned evilly, “Good thing I don’t care, Y/n–Belle. Once I have killed the Beasts, you will be MINE.” You watched as the villagers tore through the castle’s doors, the sound of shouts and a fight breaking out can be heard over the howling wind. “Come. You shall take me to the Beasts, so that I can rid of them and claim you as my own.” His grip on your arm is bruising, dragging you past everyone and up the stairs. You didn’t know why he had chosen this direction, the castle was huge, there was no way he’d be able to find them so quickly… Unless he had been watching, waiting.

“Ah huh! The Beasts! You are not as terrifying as her lunatic of a father said you were!” He pulls you closer to him, three sets of growls ripple through the air as they watch your face become pained. “I shall kill you at last, so that I can claim Y/n–Belle as my own.”

“There’s three of us and one of you. What makes you think you can take us?” Geralt growls, his eyes firmly set on Gaston’s. You shivered, you didn’t know whether it was from fear or horniness. You felt yourself throb and nodded to yourself, definitely the latter. “I suggest you let go of our HoneyBelle.”

Gaston chuckles, pulling a gun from. Well you don’t exactly know where? It was definitely not in his hand or anywhere really when he grabbed you. “This. I am the best hunter there is. I shall have all three of your heads mounted on my wall by morning.” It was a wonder how his head never exploded from how big his ego was. It was almost as big as well… Your mind began to drift again and you had to shake your head to try and rid yourself of these thoughts, it wasn’t the time.

The Beasts smirked, they had learnt to read your body well. Their Little one, Beauty and HoneyBelle was thinking inappropriately at an unfortunate time. You had come out of your daze in time to notice the designs on the wall come to life. Like a snake, the marble vines slithered across the floor and wrapped around Gaston’s leg. “What is this?!” He tries shaking his leg, letting go of you from the distraction. You squeak as arms pull you toward them, you look up to see Ari before he places you behind him. Gaston snarls, seeing you had gotten away. “You freaks! You think you can defeat me?! I AM THE GREAT GASTON!” He roared, but he was no match for a Beast's roar.

Having shrunk into himself as Logan roared back, it allowed the vine to pull him into a room that was conveniently set up. It dragged him over to a chair placed in the middle of the room, the arms had strangely been taken off. Gaston was harshly placed down onto the chair, the vines wrapping around him and the seat, securing the angered hunter. “I will escape this foolishness and take Y/n–Belle as my own!” He struggles against the vines grip.

The three Beasts stalk into the room, pulling you gently, but possessively along. Logan pulls you to stand in front of them, from Gaston’s perspective. You looked so tiny before them, you didn’t even look that tiny next to him and he was the tallest in the village. The Beasts towered over you, looking menacing to everyone but you.

“You will see who she belongs to. Won’t he, Little one?” Your thighs press together, feeling yourself throb between them and you nod. “Take off your dress.” Your hands move shakily as you lift your dress over your head and gently toss it to your side, Gaston’s eyes widen as he finally gets to see what he’s been wishing for. Maybe the Beasts are going to let him have a taste before he kills them. He smirks at that thought, becoming cocky once more. Logan moves toward you, staring at the hunter as he grasps your breast, squeezing it before rubbing your hardened nipples. “You see this? See how she reacts to our touch?” He growls, everyone in the room watches as you whimper, eyes watering and thighs pressed tightly together.

“Why don’t you go and lay on his lap, Little one.” He tells you, “On your stomach, no touching.” He glares at Gaston as he says the last part. Knowing in some way that the hunter would try and possibly slip through those vines like the slippery git he is. Logan’s paw hits your arse, pushing you forward with a slap. You squeal, timidly walking over to the bounded man, laying across his lap, the vines seem to welcome you instead of digging into you.

You bite your lip as you watch the Beasts stalk forward, coming closer. You whimper as Ari kneels between your legs and Geralt stands above your head. Logan stands directly in the middle, staring down Gaston who greedily stares down at you, his mouth opens and everyone knows he’s about to say something, but a vine slithers up and covers it before he can speak. Wrapping itself around until he’s gagged and bound.

“Such a pretty sight, Beauty. Are you ready to cum after all of this waiting? Hmm? We know we’ve been depriving you of it.” You moan at his words, not being able to respond or place your head down because you were too focused on the giant bulge in front of you. You throb at the sight, you could never get over how large they were.

“It seems she can’t reply at the moment, Ari. Our girl is a bit dumbstruck.” Geralt tilts his head, looking at Gaston. “Whores, you understand right?” His golden-yellow eyes narrow as his gaze turns back to you. “Why don’t you take my cock out, HoneyBelle. Show this human what you prefer.” You whine, squirming in Gaston’s lap as you reach your hands out quickly, the Beasts chuckle at how desperate you are.

You had only seen Ari’s cock, none of the other Beasts would give you the pleasure to see theirs. It felt like such a punishment when you could feel them, but you weren’t allowed to see. When you saw Ari’s you thought he was the biggest that you’ve ever seen, obviously you were wrong. Geralt seemed to at least be an inch longer, maybe more. Your eyes flickered over to Logan’s clothed cock, wondering if he was bigger than these two.

Geralt moves your head back to him, your mouth falls open as he guides his member inside, forcing it in unlike Ari. Speaking of, the other Beast dives between your thighs, lapping up your arousal like a man starved. Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the intense pleasure that shoots through you. Your moans vibrate around Geralt’s member, causing him to tilt his head back and let out a roar. He holds your head in place as he begins to thrust back and forth, fucking your mouth like it’s his own personal fleshlight. You drool from being used, allowing him to thrust in and out easier.

Ari palms your arse and thighs, holding you close as he devours your sweet cunt. His tongue thrusts in and out of your glistening hole before switching to lick and suck your puffy clit, taking the little bead between his sharp canines. A giant grin appears on his face as your squeals can be heard around his brother’s cock, your squirms become frantic and your toes curl. He laps your sweet juices up, knowing he would never let you go after having tasted you.

Gaston grunts, becoming disgusted with himself as he hardens at the sight, his growing bulge pushes against your stomach. Twitching as you continue to squirm against him. Logan’s glare sharpens as he notices.

“Stop.” Everything ceases and you whine, tongue hanging out of your mouth, eyes crossed and cunt tingling as you wonder why the pleasure had been stopped. He waves his paw, gesturing for you to be pulled up. You squeal as Ari pulls you up, his large bulge presses into your back, quite close to your shoulders with how tall he was. “Are you getting off on our Little one?” The growl echoes throughout the room and goes straight to your cunt.

Logan pulls you from Ari’s hold, holding your hip with one paw while the other pulls his pants down, releasing his thickened member. You feel it slap against your body and jolt, a gasp escaping you. You had a guess that he definitely was the biggest between the three. He grasps his throbbing member in his hold, stroking it as he directs his leaking tip against your sopping cunt. Logan holds eye contact with the defenseless hunter as he thrusts into you, stretching your walls wide. Your head falls back into his chest, no sounds escape your opened mouth as you are speechless. You swear you could see colours with how delicious the stretch felt, you had never felt so full before.

The Beasts and the hunter gulp as they see the bulge appear on your stomach, it slowly disappears as Logan pulls out slowly only to thrust back in. Your arms flail about as you try and find something to grip onto, your hands grab onto his biceps, arms and fur as he begins to pound into you. Growls fill the room as Logan picks up his brutal pace, slamming in and out of you like a wild animal. His grip on your hips tighten, canines bared as he lowers his head down to your exposed neck.

“Logan!” His brother’s eyes widen as they go to stop him, but it’s too late. Logan latches onto your neck, sinking his canines into your flesh and growling as your warm blood seeps into his mouth. Your eyes roll back as your cunt clenched tightly around the Beast. Your back arches, nails digging into his flesh as you scream, cumming around him repeatedly.

“Logan!” A different shout comes through. Not his brother’s, but yours. You cry his name as he continues to pull orgasms from your small body, fucking into you harder and faster until he pulls away from your neck and roars, thick ropes of cum shoot out of his thick, angry tip and coat your walls. Filling your tiny cunt to the brim, possibly even making its way into your stomach before it drips out, coating your thighs white. He suddenly feels weakened as he pulls out of you, he stumbles back and falls. Ari catches you as they stare at their brother wide-eyed.

“The curse! It must be the curse!” The brother’s exclaim, looking at each other before looking at you with wide grins.

“Are you ready for more, Beauty?” You nod rapidly, already feeling desire take over as you think about these Beasts using you again. He pulls you over to the hunter, pressing you into the side of the chair, your breasts pushing into Gaston’s face, back arching as Ari grips onto you and you grip the chair tightly as he guides his throbbing member into your used cunt, his eyes roll back at the feel of how tight you are. “Fuck, Beauty. So perfect for us.” He leans forward, flattening his tongue against your wounded neck, licking up your blood before sinking his teeth in as he begins to pound into you, pushing you into the desperate man. Gaston is forced to suffer as your bare breasts press into him whilst you get fucked by another man. Ari towers over you, covering your whimpering form. His cock slides in and out of your fluttering hole with sharp thrusts, already feeling his end nearing. He slides his paw to your stomach, pressing on the bulge before continuing to travel down to your puffy clit and plays with it.

You jerk, mouth falling open as your walls tighten around him and your juices flow out, coating him as you cum, your toes curl and your moans fill the room. Ari follows quickly behind, stuffing his cock deep inside of you as he lets go with a roar, filling you with his cum alongside his brother’s. You feel your stomach filling from a weird angle, as he slides out of you, you look down to see your stomach bulging a tiny bit. You whimper, your cunt pulsates as you move toward Geralt, looking up at him with wide eyes. Desperate to be filled again. Not noticing Ari slumping against the wall, his body draining.

Geralt growls, gripping your throat between his clawed fingers. “You want more, HoneyBelle?” You nod, pouting. Your eyes glazed over. “What a slut you are.” He tuts, “I want to test something out first.” His golden-yellow eyes narrow as he slides his cock deep into your used cunt with one quick thrust. Watching your eyes roll back for possibly the twentieth time that night, he was surprised they hadn’t gotten stuck. He stills and you whine, clutching him, your hips move as you bounce yourself up and down his cock. His grip around your throat tightens. “I want you to watch, HoneyBelle.” You pout, looking at him before he turns your attention to poor defenseless Gaston.

Your eyes widen as you watch the vines slowly remove themselves from his body, you clutch Geralt tightly as Gaston blinks, he slowly stands and with a vicious growl, he pulls out a dagger and launches himself towards the two of you. Your cunt tightens around the Beast and with wide eyes you watch as Geralt swipes his paw that isn’t gripping your throat, his claws dig deeply into the hunters throat, large slashes appear as Gaston’s body drops. His face permanently set in a shocked expression. You whimper, feeling yourself drip around Geralt’s member.

You blink, looking innocently at his face as he smirks. “Just what I thought. You are a very nasty whore, HoneyBelle.” You clench around him, the paw that is marked with Gaston’s blood comes up and grips your face while the other moves down to hold onto your thighs. You felt so dirty, but in a good way. You don’t notice him moving you over to a wall, the vines from before slither over, wrapping around your wrists and ankles as they hold you open for all to see. Geralt grins, sliding his bloody paw down your body, leaving a trail of blood that mixes with your own. “I’m going to fuck you now, HoneyBelle. So.” Thrust. “Fucking.” Thrust. “Hard.” With his last word, the Beast begins to pound into you, splitting you open.

You scream and moan, your nails digging into your palms. You can’t help but struggle against the vines, wanting, NEEDING, something to hold onto. Your head hits the wall as your half–lidded eyes watch Geralt ruin you, fucking you like the wild Beast he is. His golden-yellow eyes never leave yours. Not until he leans forward and digs his canines into the very same spot Logan and Ari did, reveling in the taste of your blood, the feel of it flowing into him, dripping down his chin.

The feeling of his cock splitting you open and his canines ripping through your flesh cause your vision to go white as you cum, squirting all over the Beast. Your arousal coats him, dripping down his thick member. Geralt growls, slamming into you harder and faster, his head now out from your neck, eyes watching you before he buries himself inside of you. Cumming deep into you, his gaze flickers down and he watches as your stomach bulges a bit more from being filled by three different types of cum. He grins, slowly thrusting as he emptied himself inside of you before pulling out and falling to the ground like his brother’s.

The vines don’t pull away, you hang against the wall. Your eyes flutter as your mind is dazed. You swear you see gold swirling around the three Beasts bodies, causing your brows to furrow as you try and blink away the cloudiness. You were saddened that in place of your Beasts were normal human men… You broke their curse.

The three brother’s groan, slowly dragging themselves up from the floor. Their eyes scan each other before looking down at themselves, seeing their human selves. “Finally. The curse has been broken and I am no longer bound as a Beast.” You whimper, causing their eyes to shoot toward you.

Ari moves over, hands skimming your soft body. “Hello, Beauty.” You frown.

They were handsome, you weren’t blind. All three of them looked different to each other and their animal form. Ari with medium length brown hair and pretty blue eyes, a bushy beard covering some of his face. Logan with short dark brown hair that somehow had styled small horns on top and hardened blue eyes, a slight beard covering his face. Then there’s Geralt, different from the two with his long white hair and golden eyes, a five o’clock shadow rests on his face. You stared at the brothers. They were gorgeous for humans, somewhat god-like but deep down, you desired the Beasts within them. Somehow, it made them… More.

Geralt smirks at his work. “I am not going to lie, I will miss being a Beast.” Logan grunts at his brother’s words. The vines finally unravel from your wrists and ankles, allowing Ari to catch you and carry you over to the bed.

You would later learn that the men wouldn’t stay just men, the Beast still lived within, especially when they tasted your sweet blood before the curse was broken.

thank you for reading!

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houserautha · 2 days

Text

These Destined Ends

Part Thirteen

Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: poorly timed erections, humiliation kink, cockwarming, you spit in his mouth, unprotected sex, unnecessary angst

Summary: I’m not super happy with this chapter. I wanted to go into detail with the Gom Jabbar scene but I couldn’t get any words out😂 so I skipped ahead to the smut part I wanted to write. Big things happening next chapter👀

The doors to the study burst open.

You look up from your spot nearby. Patience was not your strong suit, and you had grown bored while waiting for the Reverend Mother to administer the Gom Jabbar. Confusion flickers through you as you quickly assess the Reverend Mother's hastened steps.

"How did it go?" You ask, craning your neck to see into the study. Though you hardly thought Feyd would actually succumb to the test, it still worried you, and you feared you would see his body slumped on the floor.

"Never in my life," the Reverend Mother mutters. She stops in front of you. "The na-Baron is human, it seems, but not a man. Not like any that I've ever known."

You blink stupidly, her form retreating before you can even inquire about what she meant. She had been insistent that you weren't in the room with them and clearly she did not want to recall what you missed. She didn't even adhere to her usual courtesies of formal manners, scurrying away without even a backward glance.

Curiosity grows like a vine, winding up around you and inspiring you to creep into the study, unsure about what to expect. "Feyd?"

Your gaze sweeps the room. There's no jumble of limbs to suggest that he perished under the Gom Jabbar, which alleviates your fears slightly.

Finally you spot him, reclined in one of the plush chairs that had been pushed aside to make room for the assessment. Afternoon shadows cast him in a strange light, mostly hidden except for the faintest outline of his body.

"Feyd? What is she talking about?" You cross the room to him.

"That witch's test had...unexpected results."

"But you passed it?"

"Would I be here if I didn't?" He asks.

"No." You allow your eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, so different from outside of the study where you had waited. "What —?"

The words die in your throat.

Feyd sits, infuriatingly regal, in the chair, legs spread wide and arms draped on either side of the curved back. You notice for the first time his very obvious erection, straining against his pants and sufficiently flushing you with a perverse mixture of desire and shame.

"Feyd-Rautha," you gasp out, baffled.

"She thought she could deter me with pain, but clearly she is not as intelligent as she believes."

You hiss back, "You are abhorrent."

"Perhaps." He inclines his chin. "Show me."

His words pull behind your navel, the familiar tugging answer to his call. An image of Feyd, poison needle to his neck, deriving pleasure from the box entrapping his hand, flashes through your mind. No wonder the Reverend Mother was so horrified. It brings the slightest of grins to your face, and a subsequent wave of affection for the twisted, beautiful man before you.

"Show you what?" You ask coyly.

His voice is silk, red wine, life's greatest pleasures gliding over your skin. "Just how abhorrent you find me."

You close the space between you. Feyd keeps his gaze trained on you as you insert yourself between his legs, leaning down to work the fasten of his pants. Cock liberated, it springs up, red and pulsing. It invokes a low, savage growl from him when you pointedly ignore his hardened length in favor of your own wanton needs, gathering your skirts in one hand while dipping the other down to your cunt. His cock twitches in response.

"So abhorrent that I don't know if you deserve this pussy," you murmur to him. "You disgust me. Why would I even want to fuck you?"

Feyd's jaw clenches and he wraps his fist at the base of his cock. "Shit."

Emboldened, you keep the steady rhythm of your own self-pleasure, sneering at your husband.

"People have perished under the Gom Jabbar and yet it arouses you, the unspeakable pain enticing your cock. You should be ashamed of yourself." Feyd gasps out, stroking himself. There's a dark intensity in his eyes. You realize that he craves this from you, needs to hear you flay him with your tongue. "Look how hard you are. You're pathetic."

His head rolls back, exposing the pale column of his throat. Your fingers hitch and you inhale at the sight of him like this. Wound tight with want, you remove your hand and climb into his lap. Feyd is only too eager to accommodate you, pushing his hips up in an effort to drive his cock into you, hands grabbing for your waist.

"Don't touch me," you snarl at him, swatting him away. Feyd whimpers. "You think I want your hands on me after what you did?"

A keening sound splits the room as you slip the swollen head of his cock between your folds, a display of his frustration — you keep still, refusing to provide the friction that he is so desperate for. He fills you thoroughly, stretching you until you feel you might burst, and you have to fight the urge to roll your hips against his.

"Don't do this," he snarls at you.

"What? Punish you? You practically asked for it, dear husband."

You sit on his cock, unmoving. He stares back at you with contempt, fingers digging into the arms of the chair. When he looks at you like this, like you are some unobtainable treasure, you might as well be seated on a throne. And, you suppose, it is an honor to have him buried to the hilt in your cunt, this man who has searched for pleasure in others, in violence, and now clings to you like none of it compares.

"Please," Feyd breathes out.

"Don't talk to me," you snap, shifting your hips just the slightest bit. His eyes flash. "But since you're so eager to use your mouth."

You grab hold of his jaw, squeezing tightly as you pull him closer. Despite the roughness of your grasp, it might as well be a caress, Feyd's cock flinching in response.

"Open," you instruct him, though it doesn't matter. With force, you pry apart his lips and slip your thumb inside his mouth, pressing down on his tongue and holding him in place.

It's an intoxicating experience — his hardened member resting in your cunt, his face in your hand, the pleading in his eyes as he gazes up at you. Power was addictive. You thought yourself above it, once. But all it took was the right person to hold it over.

Spittle sprays his face as you spit in his mouth.

Feyd's throat bobs. If it's possible, you swear you feel him grow harder inside you. "Close, but don't swallow," you murmur to him, revoking your thumb. Feyd obeys. At this point he's trembling with want and frustration. You remove your grip on his jaw but he keeps it lofted in the air; with more fondness than you care, you wipe the spittle from his face, the pads of your fingers swiping over the bannister of his cheekbones, his eyelids.

Finally you whisper, "You disgust me." Leaning back on your heels, you indicate for him to swallow, which he does. A smile curves your mouth. "You should be fucking grateful that I pity you. Grovel. Tell me why you deserve this."

"I don't," Feyd gasps. "I don't. I don't."

"Is that all you know how to say?" You sneer at him.

He shakes his head, desperation crossing his features. "No. I—I don't deserve you but that's..." he trails off, the words sticking in his throat like he can't quite work them out, "that's exactly why I need you."

To express your approval, you grind your hips against him. Feyd whimpers. His admission pleases you, injects you with a fervency that lifts you up on his cock and then back down. Feyd's thighs clench beneath you as you persist with the movement, steadying yourself by reaching behind him and grabbing the chair, and expletives falling from his mouth as you do.

"That's right you fucking need me," you hiss to him. You quicken your pace.

In retrospect, you should've milked the moment for all it was worth, but Feyd was already on the edge and you weren't far behind; his eyes roll back in his head as he comes, and you clamp around him, seeking your own finish. His cock softens in you. You do your best not to let any cum escape from between your thighs, vaguely grateful that its consistency is thick and doesn't normally demand much cleanup.

Smoothing the wrinkles from your dress, you ask him, "Tell me you got it."

Eyes half-lidded, Feyd gestures to the side of the chair. The Gom Jabbar rests, glinting in the dim lighting. Your gaze cuts to him.

"You didn't ask," he says, reading your mind.

"You didn't tell me it was right there?" You bark at him, bewildered. "I could've —"

The corner of his mouth twitches. "I wouldn't have let you."

You hesitate, knowing that he's right. Anger drains from you then, replaced with curiosity, and you wait for him to tuck himself back into his pants. Feyd rises to his feet.

"She didn't notice?"

"She was...distracted," Feyd says.

"And you replaced it."

"Yes."

"Good." Your gaze roams his face. "I must say I’m relieved you’re alive.”

Feyd lets out a laugh, deep and rasping. “I never thought I would hear those words from you.”

“Hopefully you don’t think less of me for it.”

“Nothing could make me think less of you,” he murmurs, then grins. “Though I might send a physician to check you for fever.”

You can’t help but laugh at this and you gently push his chest. Feyd captures your hands there, though, holding you close to him. You jest, “You’re lucky that I love you.”

Feyd’s expression shutters. Horror yawns in you, an all-consuming mouth threatening to swallow you whole. Why did you say that?

“Feyd, I —”

He takes a step away from you, dropping your hands. Even though he’s only a few inches away, a chasm might as well have opened between you. Feyd grabs the Gom Jabbar. “This needs to be taken care of.”

He brushes past you and, paralyzed with panic and disbelief, you let him.

Hours turn into days, which turn into weeks. A month. The longest glimpse you have of your husband is in passing; conveniently, a smuggler operation was uncovered the day after the Gom Jabbar, which demanded the full attention of the na-Baron. Feyd immersed himself in dismantling the enterprise. You, on the other hand, were left to the simple task of “carrying out your duty” — which, to your best understanding, meant to conceive the Kwisatz Haderach — an impossible task considering your husband refused to look at you.

You spent most of your days in your parents’ study, rifling through whatever documents were salvageable from Rabban’s raid. Most of them were meaningless to you, stocks of supplies and financial reports. But at least they kept your mind from drifting.

You’re in the study when the door opens and Feyd-Rautha steps inside, as solemn and impassive as he’s been ever since that day. Seeing him like this, so close and without distractions, pierces you like a dagger. The worst part of this whole ordeal is the fact that you missed him.

You missed his unwavering confidence, the flow of your banter, the slightest changes in his expression that only time had revealed their meaning. And, infuriatingly, you missed the sex. Missed the sear of his hands on your body, his cock in your cunt. You prayed to whoever would listen that he couldn’t see this on your face.

It definitely wouldn’t help your case after telling him that you loved him.

“The smugglers have been neutralized,” Feyd says first, breaking the silence.

You dip your chin. “I assumed they would be.”

“To celebrate this feat the Baron has requested that we host a feast with our allies, and to showcase our new rule over Arrakis.”

“Ah,” you reply. You wanted this to happen as part of your plan, but you weren’t sure what it meant now that you weren’t on speaking terms. You pause, waiting for Feyd to offer some sort of hint, but he just continues his blank stare.

Even when you first met, when you swore that he was the most wretched creature to exist, he did not treat you like this. Like you were nothing.

Courage thrums through you like a second heartbeat. “And what will your uncle, our allies, think when the na-Baron won’t even spare a glance to his wife?”

“I don’t care what they think.”

“You used to care what I thought,” you whisper back to him. Your throat works. It’s the first time you’ve uttered what you’ve been thinking. “And now you won’t even look at me, which is a punishment unlike any I’ve known.”

If it’s possible, Feyd stills even more. There’s a flicker of something behind his eyes but it’s gone before you can name it, like the glint of a fish on the surface before disappearing into the depths.

He rasps, “You don’t understand.”

“No, Feyd, I don’t understand, because you’ve been fucking avoiding me,” you growl. “So why don’t you enlighten me?”

His jaw clenches. “This isn’t the time.”

“If it’s up to you, it will never be.” You stand and cross your arms. “Just tell me. Then we can fuck until you get me pregnant and we’ll never have to speak to each other again.”

Feyd just stares evenly at you. You think that he might never speak but when he does, his voice is so low you can barely hear it. “This isn’t…this isn’t because I don’t…reciprocate…your feelings.”

He chokes out each word. Still your heart flutters traitorously.

“If what you said is true, then I am a liability to you. I am not meant for…I just wanted to give you time to think,” he finishes awkwardly. “Love is a weakness. It’s messy. It complicates things.”

“If you haven’t noticed, everything about us is complicated,” you reply, laughing bitterly. You feel your features soften. “That doesn’t change anything.”

“You’re wrong to love me, jewel.” He steps towards you, and you realize that there’s a startling vulnerability to his face, nearly childlike in its sincerity. A boy pleading for the care that he never received. “I will only hurt you.”

A wistful smile tugs at your mouth. “You’ve hurt me many times already, and yet I’m still here.”

“You’re a fool.”

“I know.” This time you’re the one to inch closer, bridging the gap between you. You can hear Feyd’s breath hitch. “Don’t hide from me. I cannot bear it.”

Feyd nods, once, almost imperceptibly. “Fine.”

You can’t help it — you reach out and straighten his collar, graze your fingers over his skin. He inhales sharply and it’s in that moment that you realize his avoidant behavior has been just as punishing for him, a matter of self-preservation.

“I will tear off your balls and use them to store my jewelry if you ever do something like that again,” you tell him. Amusement crosses his face, on the tail of his obvious relief.

“Mm, careful, I’d risk anything if it meant you would touch me.”

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#feyd rautha #dune #feyd x reader #feyd x you #fanfic writing #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd smut #writers on tumblr #fanfic #writing #these destined ends

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belovedcloud · 21 hours

Note

Your writing is so good! If it's not too much trouble, can you write soft loving sex with Las Plagas Leon or any of your favorite Leon's?

Crave | Las Plagas! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

✎ Notes: I hope you like this, I was thinking about Las Plagas Leon and him being possessive of you in a cuddly way when he comes back from saving Ashley. Sorry that it's short, I have a lot going on for me atm!

➤ WC: 1.55K

➤ CW: Porn with barely any plot, possessive Leon, Leon sucking and appreciating your tits (he's definitely a boob guy), Pet names: sweetheart, baby, my love. P in V (unprotected sex), creampie, fingering & rubbing.

Days passed, worry flooded all over your body as you wondered where your boyfriend was. Although you knew this mission was important in many ways than one - Leon never deserved to be forced into working for the government. However, you couldn't help him in any way but care for him when he came home. Tonight would be different, the Leon that returned wouldn't be the one you knew.

You snuggled yourself onto your couch, the only sounds ringing in your ears was the sound of the wall clock ticking each second. 02:41 AM. Your eyes wouldn't bring themselves to sleep, the constant ideas of what Leon was doing made you shiver in fear. His mission was laced in pure secrecy, nobody but him and the government knew what he was doing. Suddenly, the thoughts in your mind were quickly shut off as you heard keys jingle, a familiar figure yanking them out as he opened the door. He was home. You rapidly lifted yourself up, fumbling the blanket in your hands as your eyes gazed upon Leon. He seemed different. Low groans sporadically came out of his mouth as he threw his duffel bag against the wall, Leon's eyes averted to you. Without hesitation he approached you, wrapping his arms around you. "I missed you... Fuck, you smell good." The feeling of his voice rumbled against the skin of your neck as he nuzzled his head into it. "L-Leon, you should really go rest." A small mewl erupted out of your throat as you slowly caressed his arm, staring upon it. Why was black liquid flowing through his veins?

You tried to pull his head away from your neck, but to no avail. He calmly sucked onto your skin, holding you gently. Leon fought off the feeling of something telling him to lose control, he wanted to make love to you. To caress you in ways where the softest moans would be elicited out of you. Subconsciously, his arms lifted you up for the ground, pulling his face away from your neck. This time, you could focus on the cuts and fresh scars that illustrated all over his face. The dark veins protruding out as he took you upstairs. "Leon? What is up with you?" Your soft voice echoed through his brain, oh how he loved you. How he loved you soft skin against his, the roughness of his own pressing against yours. "What do you mean my love?" His coarse voice juxtaposed his mellow actions towards you, gently placing you down on the shared bed. He stared at your figure with such lust and adoration apparent in his eyes, the way his shirt hugged your curves just right. Your shorts pressing into your plush skin as the movement of his hands slowly crept onto your thighs. Rubbing them tenderly as he gave you a small smile.

"What do you mean? I mean... Look at you. You've got some pattern on your skin." You whispered out as his touch infected you with a burning feeling. An ache pulsing where you needed to be touch - how his hands were so close to your sensitive clit. Was this right? You didn't even know if you knew the man in front of you. Of course it was Leon, your lover, was it really him? "Don't worry about me baby, look at how gorgeous you are." He purred out, slowly lifting up his shirt to see your tits. God, they were perfect. He couldn't help but remove his own shirt, feeling hot in his own skin. Seeing your body was a fuel that he never knew he needed, his veins becoming more prominent in his skin. Spreading all over him, your face still in constant worry. Leon didn't like that. He didn't like that you worried for him, when he felt perfectly fine right? He knew he wasn't okay, the voices still in his head and flashbacks to when he previously just saved Ashley. The government would find some type of cure for him, surely right?

The pads of his fingers fondled with your nipples, his mouth enclosing on one of them as he looked up to see your blissful face. Light moans escaping your throat as your fingers laced themselves into his hair strands - tugging on them just slightly. Leon groaned into your tits, feeling himself jerk into the soft bed you both laid on. He craved you. Your body craved him too as a wet patch formed on your panties, the baby blue colour turning dark as your slick clung on it. Leon's hands moved methodically all over your body, caressing parts that needed him for so long. Until moving them to tug under the waistband of your shorts. "Can I?" He begged, his eyes pleading for you to say yes. A quiet mumble fell out of your lips as you granted him permission to see you. To see that pretty pussy he missed so much. A bite of your lip nearly drove Leon over the edge as he touched the wet spot on your panties. He could smell the sweetness of your pussy calling out to him. Without a thought, he pulled them off.

"L-Leon!" You yelped as you felt his fingers slowly slide into you. "Need to get you ready baby, want to make you feel good with my cock." The squelches of your cunt taking two of his fingers muffled his sentence as he watched them go in and out. A slight curve to his movement causing a loud whine to flood out of your mouth. You could feel yourself starting to gush onto him, needing more of his touch. Leon's other hand interlaced with yours, a sweet look on his face of appreciation as he watched you moan his name out. He was so in love with you. This new profound feeling in him, made him feel different from any other time he was having sex with you. You were his, his craving. A familiar feeling bubbled up in your chest as you felt the pad of his thumb rub on your little clit. "O-oh Leon..." A mellow moan left you as you shook in his touch, your orgasm gushing out. "That's my good girl... Yeah, cum on my fingers." His praises inundated you. You desired this, as much as he desired you.

Leon made quick work of his pants as he unbuckled his belt, removing the cargos that he used in his rampage in Spain. A wet spot standing out on his boxers where his tip leaked out it's pre-cum. Your eyes followed his hand as he pulled his cock out, it was beaming a harsh pink colour. Impulsively, you sat up and reached out for it. A gasp hushed out Leon's lips as he moaned into his hand, feeling your hand rub his hard cock. "Fuck... Baby please I can't do this anymore." A soft smile appeared on your face as he took it into his own hands, positioning himself in front of your entrance. A slow but steady thrust left you both panting as he rutted himself into you.

"Oh my.. fuck, you feel so good sweetheart." Leon whimpered out as he placed his hands on your hips, staring into your eyes as his thighs tapped against yours. He didn't want to fuck you, he wanted to make love. You were his pretty girl, the one he loved so dear and if it meant holding back his own urges for your pleasure, he would do it in a heartbeat. The eye contact shared between you and Leon made you shy; you covered your face, just to have your hands softly removed by your lovers. "Let me see you.. please you're so pretty like this." His lips pressed against yours, moans rung out between the both of you. Creating a melody filled with raw passion as his thrusts became deeper. Your eyes rolling back in pure ecstasy as yourself shake.

"H-Honey.." you whimpered as your hands scrunched the sheets beneath you. The soft cotton rubbing against you as Leon admired your body. His fingers found their way to your clit again as he started to rub it. "Cum on my cock, cum f'me." His voice turned raspy as his dick throbbed inside of you. The pitch of your moans heightened as you felt a sensation that burned so good, the coil in you snapping as your orgasm rushed over you. Making you chant Leon's name as he felt his thighs starting to shake from pure pleasure. Leon watched his dick move in and out of you, a sheer film of sweat forming on his forehead as he felt his release coming. "Fuck baby, I'm gonna cum. Need to fill this tight pussy up." His head fell back, the strands of his hair sticking to his forehead, the black veins spread all over his body as his load filled you up. A warm feeling loaded into you as he slid his cock out. Seeing some of his cum drip out of you with a silly grin on his face.

"We need to get you checked up Leon.." You mumbled, tracing a dark line down his face. "Tomorrow sweetheart.. Let me hold you." A gentle smile formed on his face as he stared at your blissed out body.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #resident evil #leon kennedy resident evil #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy imagine #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy fanfic #resident evil smut

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ithebookhoarder · 7 hours

Note

Hi! I’m not sure if you’re still taking requests for criminal minds but if you are could you do the BAU react to their so being a paramedic/firefighter? :))

If you decide to write this thank you in advance

(BAU Headcanons) If their S.O. was a paramedic/firefighter 🚨

A/N: You're very welcome! Here you are my angel. I'm always taking requests but I can't promise how long I'll take to reply and finish them 😅 Hope this is worth the wait. Also - major shout out to any first responders out there. You are literal superheroes! 💕

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, mentions of mental health, alcohol references, sexual references, references to death. (Let me know if I missed any)

Aaron Hotchner

Aaron would be honestly so in awe of you and what you do for a living. He’d also appreciate having a partner who understands what it’s like to have a job with unpredictable hours, such high stakes, and requires risking yourself to save people.

As such, he would know how important it is to prioritise time together for the two of you. It’s why he is so active with forming a family calendar as he knows that, if it isn’t written in ink, you may never find an opportunity to do something.

He is all about creating concrete plans for you both, so you have something to look forward to and actually have a chance of being able to arrange it, even if it’s months in advance. It doesn’t matter if it’s Jack’s soccer game, going for a jog in the park together, or a week-long vacation.

However, he’s learned to be far more flexible if plans don’t work out the way you’d hoped. He’s had virtual Thanksgivings with you over the phone, a boxing-day Christmas, and even turned running errands on a day off into a date-day.

We know Aaron would honestly hate knowing how much danger you’re in sometimes at work but he also knows he has no leg to stand on given his job and what he does every day. So, you both agree to let the other one know at least once a day that you’re ok, even if only by text.

You’d have to agree to a ‘no work at home’ policy for you both to even stand a chance of relaxing at home and focusing on Jack (who thinks he has the coolest parents ever! Like, two superheroes for parents? He’s the luckiest kid in the world).

Aaron would be such a proud partner too, even if he doesn’t always say it out loud. He shows it in his face every time he and Jack come to visit you at work, or when he displays a picture of you receiving an award on his desk for everyone to see.

He even helps Jack when he asks to go as you for Halloween one year - the sight of which made you cry so hard you couldn’t even speak for a good hour after. Instead, you snap a picture and carry it with you everywhere when you leave the house, and even stick a copy in your locker.

He’d have notifications set too, tracking incidents in your area so he knows when you may be working or out on a job. He’s also not above pulling the ‘FBI’ card if he even hears of someone making your life hard at work.

He’d also be the biggest hypocrite, always worried you’re not getting enough sleep or eating enough, despite him running on no sleep and three expressos.

He’d also be the first to rip into you if he found out you’d taken some unnecessary risk whilst out on a call.

“I have enough worrying about my own idiots over here without worrying about you doing something stupid too. Please, you need to be more careful, ok? I can’t and won’t lose you. Not like that.”

David Rossi

Rossi has lost many people over the years so he would definitely be terrified of losing you, and getting hurt. However, he knows what it’s like to have a passion for helping people and he’d never stop you from doing what you love and making a difference.

Besides with his crazy schedule he doesn’t mind having a partner who is mostly out working, or also operates on a crazy schedule. It’s almost complimentary, and allows you both not to miss each other too badly when you’re busy.

Rossi strikes me as a supportive partner in his own ways. For instance, he would make massive donations to fundraisers for your department and for causes supported by your work. He wouldn’t even tell you most of the time, leaving you to work out where the mystery million dollars came from overnight after you just so happened to mention it to him over dinner.

Speaking of dinner, he’d be keen to invite your colleagues over to his place for social functions, offering to hosts BBQs and family dinners. He’d also invite his BAU family too, knowing how nice it is for your worlds to mix and for people to relax amongst people who get what it’s like to deal with difficult issues.

He also makes homemade dinners at least once a week, cooking enough so that you both have leftovers to take to work for the next few days.

He’s also keen to share any recipes he can with you, so you know how to make them when you’re on shift for hours on end.

“Just because you’re busy saving lives doesn’t mean someone shouldn’t take care of you too!”

This man would also make sure to call you whenever he gets a chance, especially if he is away on a case. He likes hearing your voice and makes sure to ask all about your day so far, knowing its good for both of you to touch base.

Derek Morgan

This man would be the biggest supporter and cheerleader. Like, you know your pictures are all over his desk and he’s always bragging about how you saved someone’s life whenever he gets a chance.

“Oh yeah, that’s my baby. They’re a literal superhero. They’re badass.”

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t worry about you when you’re away working or if he sees some major incident on the news. He’ll be refreshing his phone over and over until he sees a text from you telling him you’re ok.

You know he will also be begging Penelope to see what she can find out too, through any means necessary (Hotch doesn’t exactly have to know about it…)

You bet your ass that if he does hear you’re hurt or if something is wrong then he will be bolting his way down to the ER or wherever you are the minute he is able to. Penelope would likely be one step ahead of him if he was unable to be there right away taking care of you until he can.

Morgan is such a good care giver too. He knows how hard it is to take care of others if you don’t take care of yourself so is King of supporting healthy habits. I’m talking meal plans so you eat right, proper sleeping habits when you can make them work, and getting out of your apartment on your days off.

He’s all for vegging on the sofa sometimes but he’s keen to support you where he can and remind you there’s a world outside of work and your home.

He would be the kind of partner who would suggest doing things together as a couple, whether it’s a daily jog in the park or even training for some kind of race. This gives the two of you a shared goal and also shared time together - including in the shower once you get home.

“What? It’s twice as fast this way and costs half the water bill, sweetheart.”

Also, you know this man gives the world’s best massages and he would be only too willing to give you one when you get home. He’d even try and wait up for you if he could, although you’ve come home more than once to find him passed out on the sofa.

Emily Prentiss

With her track record of trusting and being betrayed by people I think Emily would be extremely anxious about having a first responder for a partner, even if she would also be totally amazed by you and thinks you’re so badass.

Like, you can’t tell me she wouldn’t be beaming ear to ear if you ever came to visit the BAU. She would be showing you off to everyone and anyone, giving them all a face to put to the name she’s been talking about for weeks.

“Babe, you’re amazing. You’re literally saving lives every day. All I did yesterday was fill out a stack of paperwork as big as my arm.” (She ignores the disapproving look Hotch shoots her for that comment…)

It’s just that she’s scared about losing you and it would take you both a while to work out how to make your relationship work and communicate effectively with one another about your fears. I mean, it’s not like you aren’t as equally worried about her but it takes a while for you both to accept that it’s a part of your relationship and that neither of you are willing to give your jobs or each other up.

When she’s away on a case, or if you’re working overnight, then she won’t be able to sleep unless she sees she has a text from you telling her you’re ok and still in one piece. Of course, she prefers to be able to call if she can but knows it isn’t always possible for both of you if you’re in the middle of a shift.

She’s a safe space so wouldn’t take it personally when you get home and have fatigue, adrenaline dumps, or just lack any potential excitement or energy for plans you made in advance.

She’ll meet you where you are, whether it’s cancelling plans and staying in, or going out anyway because you need a distraction. As long as she’s with you then she’s happy and it isn’t like she doesn’t do the same thing after a really bad case.

Also, we know that you’re the only one she trusts to look after Sergio when she isn’t there, knowing you will be better having someone to cuddle, feed, and look after when you’re not on shift. You become Penelope’s version of Sergio too, as Emily instructs their tech analyst to keep an eye on you both when she can’t.

She’d be keen to spoil you from time to time and indulges on takeout, trips to the movies, and wants to take you to as many amazing places on holiday as she possibly can. She knows it’s good to travel and to have a complete break from your daily routine. Plus, she knows so many people and so many languages that you’re spoilt on choices of where to stay next.

I honestly feel like JJ would struggle having a first responder for a partner. She’d be such a Momma Bear that its both wonderful and intimidating. Like, we know she and Will worked it out eventually with him being a cop, but the fear of losing you would be a big issue for the two of you for a while. As would be navigating how you both deal with the other’s feelings after a bad day on the job. It takes some trial and error before you get into the swing of things.

For example, she would give the best pep talks and would also know just what to say after a bad day.

“You did everything you could, sweetheart. I am so proud of you and you saved so many lives today. You may not have been able to save that one, but they knew you tried. They knew you were there and that you cared. That’s all we can ask for in the end. You are amazing and I’ve got you.”

When you’re both home together, or if you’ve told her you’re having a rough shift, then bath times are a must. She normally has one run, with candles lit, by the time you get in the door. She is also keen to crack open a bottle of wine, or whatever you drink you want, to help you both relax as you lie together in the warm, soapy water and just forget everything for a little while.

She’d also insist on you both leaving voice messages for the other when you were away, so you could wish the other a ‘goodnight’. It’s comforting to her but she also likes being able to share them with Henry too.

Speaking of phones, this ex-media liaison would have so many alerts set up and contacts to call if she even suspects you may be out on a major incident. It’s honestly kind of mind-blowing how quickly she managed to get on the phone with your superior, after hearing you could be out on a job that had gone awry. She was in a different state at the time but wouldn’t hang up until they told her what had happened, where you were, and if you were alright.

She’s also keen to support you in a practical sense, so offers to do loads of laundry for you between shifts and also cleans the house as a way of making sure you have a nice home to come back to. You’d be sure to return the favour when you could, but she likes doing it and being able to show her appreciation for you in such a basic but important way.

JJ would be way more relaxed leaving Henry with you if she’s away, knowing your training makes you like the best possible babysitter ever.

That, and you cannot tell me that Henry would not worship the ground you walk on. After finding out what you do for work, that little angel would make siren noises whenever you’re in the car together - something you’re keen to encourage as “everyone knows the best part of the job is turning the siren on, JJ. Duh.”

Luke Alvez

Luke would be so proud and so scared for you sometimes, being a first responder.

Luke would understand that you both have super stressful jobs so is keen to suggest a ’leave work at the door’ policy unless one of you really wants to share. He knows sometimes all he wants to do after a challenging case is walk in the door and face-plant on the sofa and he’d be a hypocrite if he didn’t let you do the same… that doesn’t mean he won’t reach over and gently pull of your boots for you, and leave a glass of something on the coffee table for when you feel like it.

He is also a firm believer that Roxie cures everything, so would be only too happy to leave her with you when he’s out of town, so you can have all the cuddles and playtime you want.

He also walks her by your work if he gets time so you can come out and sneak a cuddle if you’re not too busy or on a job. Roxie is now your work’s unofficial therapy dog and she loves her role - and the added attention very much. (And you best know she has her own little version of your uniform too).

I feel like he’s the kind of guy who would wake up with you if you have an early start, even if he doesn’t, just so he can cook breakfast and make you coffee in your favourite to-go mug.

“You deserve to start your day in the right way, so go and enjoy your shower, baby, and it’ll be ready for you when you come out.”

He’d also leave you stupid little love notes in your bag too, knowing they make you smile when you find them later on. You also like to keep them and stick them in your locker for luck, and normally have one tucked in your pocket too.

He’d also recommend different kinds of music for you to listen to on shift, making you playlists you can share and add to when you’re not together. It’s got so bad your co-workers refuse to let you have the aux when you’re driving around anymore as your choices are so varied they get whiplash.

Luke also loves getting involved wherever he can, whether it’s donating time to help organise a fundraiser, bringing pizza by work, or going with you as a date to any formal events you’re invited to. He scrubs up niceeee and he loves seeing you all dressed up formal too.

Penelope Garcia

Penelope would worship the ground you walk on and frets about you like she frets about all her BAU babies when they’re out on a case - but WORSE.

So she does what she does best and compensates with love and kindness. She takes care of the people she loves and you would know that better than anyone. This queen would totally make you care packages and would make sure you had them delivered when you’re on shift.

“You spend all your time taking care of other people, my real life knight in shining armour. The least I can do is make sure you have some fluffy socks, face masks, and other basic pamper essentials to take care of yourself! Oh, and don’t forget the protein shake I made for you! And stay hydrated! And be safe!”

She’d make sure to send gifts for your co-workers too. It’s why she’s the favourite spouse of all your colleagues and she’s greeted like the queen she is whenever she visits.

Her cookies have earned her the unofficial title of ‘Star Baker’ and you best know there have been physical fights over them whenever you’ve left them in the crew mess. In fact, your boss has had to give you all warnings about it as a result, calling ‘dibs’ on them if you couldn’t all be trusted to share.

She would also give you one of her many mascots for the dashboard of your rig, knowing that the little bobblehead or whatever will remind you of her when you’re out on a call.

Speaking of calls, you know she is tuned in to all scanners / messaging systems so knows exactly where you are at all times, but especially if there is a call out. You best believe she is making sure you’re ok and has her eyes and ears open if you need help of any kind or back-up.

As a result, you know she has been scolded more than once by Hotch and by the local authorities for interfering and hijacking calls when she thinks you’re being ignored or need assistance.

Penelope would also be the first person to encourage you to attend some kind of support group, or seek out some kind of therapy, to help deal with all the stressful and traumatic things you deal with on a day to day basis. She would be only too happy to help you find one and would drive you there and back when she’s able. She’d even come along if you wanted her to.

Spencer Reid

Spencer would be an incredibly proud partner and you know it. He would show his support in various different ways and would absolutely take any and all opportunities to remind people he’s dating a superhero (especially Morgan). He doesn’t understand why someone as amazing as you would choose to date someone like him.

He would like giving you book recommendations so you always have something to read on shift. He’d give you his copies to borrow, so you can enjoy his pencil notes in the margins when he’s not with you.

Not only that, but he’d also be happy to take recommendations from you too - no matter how different they may be from his usual reading material. That way you can both compare notes when you both get home and leave work behind for a moment.

Also, you know Spence would be a fountain of knowledge about your job and has probably read up on anything he didn’t already know about your field. There isn’t a piece of jargon or code that he doesn’t know and he loves trying to use it when talking to your colleagues when he visits sometimes. It earns him their respect, which you know he would be nervous about, as your co-workers are like your second family. He’s that way with the BAU and he wants to impress the people who mean the most to you.

His thirst for knowledge means he is always willing to let you practise different exercises on him and is keen to learn whatever you’re willing to tell him (something that has come in handy on many of his own cases).

In return, he would like sharing whatever statistics he has memorised about the work you do. It’s also why he is so concerned about you, knowing how much your role takes out of you. His job is tiring and traumatic enough, but he is at least part of a big team and works only one case at a time.

“I’m just saying sweetheart, it’s estimated that 30% of first responders develop behavioral health conditions including, but not limited to, depression and PTSD, as compared with 20% in the general population. If you ever want to talk to me or someone else, like a professional, then you know that’s ok.”

As much as he isn’t an overly affectionate person, I feel like he’d be the kind of person to buy you both those bracelets that you can tap and it sends a pulse to the other, letting them know you thought about them. It’s like a virtual tap on the shoulder just to let you both know they’ve got you and love you.

He’d also drive the doctors insane if you ever got hurt on the job, yelling at them to double check their diagnosis if he even thinks you’re not getting the best treatment and care possible.

He’d also insist on taking care of you during your recovery, not trusting anyone else to do it right - and he also has Dr Who primed for your entertainment. What could be better than that?

Masterlist

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queenhunter102 · 2 days

Text

When the boys are attention whores

Johnny ‘Soap’ McTavish I believe that this man, this feral man, would be a whore for attention when you and him were out on base, and everyone had your attention, like Simon “Oh? You need help lifting a bag, no problem,” Riley said. “You want advice on how to deal with feral Soap” Price, like our poor sweet man, CANNOT and WILL NOT go without your attention. If this man-child could get his hands on you, he would be all pouty and whiney. He would turn your face to his, sliding his hands up and down your waist and back while he rests his head on your shoulder. “Baabbbyy, looookkk at meeee,” he would whine as he pressed his face into your neck. But if he couldn’t, he would go all mean boy mode, balling up pieces of paper and throwing them at you or pulling your hair, like this man would act like a toddler who just heard the word no for the first time. Alejandro Vargas Now Alejandro? Our smooth talker, this man is needy but in a different manner to our fussy Johnny, Like he would still be pouty, but it’s all in his touch, all in the gentle push to your hips, how his hands guide you around the room, how his hands rest on your ass. So when Johnny pulls you into a conversation about only god knows what, your attention is entirely on him; Alejandro pouts as he presses his face to your neck, rubbing his nose up and down your neck and collarbone while he presses kisses; he mutters words like “mi divina look at me” or “mi corazón let me press kisses to your lips” he would whisper, as he lightly bites your jaw, that is if he could get his hands on that is But if he couldn’t, then be prepared for a lap dog. He would be all over you, his entire weight on your back, tight grip on your hair. Let's also not forget he would take your chin into his hand and force you to look at him, that hard, steely look in his eye that demanded your every attention. Simon ’Ghost’ Riley Simon is like a little mix of both Johnny and Alejandro, just meaner. Considering he isn’t much of a talker, he takes up more of Johnny’s mean streak and Alejandro’s touchiness while pouting, and there is no warning for this… You could happily talk with Kyle, WHAM, and pouty Simon in the common room. This man would find a way to be mean to you. He would grab your hair and turn it away from Kyle, but it’s not like he’s even turning you to look at him. Oh no, he’s turning you away from all types of attention point blank, and if that doesn’t force your attention, he will start flicking your cheeks, pinching them. Do you think Johnny’s evil in his toddler-like attitude? Simon is way worse. At least with Johhny and Alejandro, you had the sweet kisses and whispers of want, but Simon? “Fuc’n bitch” or “Eyes on me” are the harsh words you hear, you know he’s just pissy and demanding your attention, but it doesn’t mean that he won’t be any less forceful. Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick Now, our sweet boy Kyle? The man who worships the ground you walk on, Kyle, is the type to go to extremes like Simon but fluffy. He is a little less fussy than Simon, Johnny, or Alejandro, but he is just as touchy and whiney. Is this man all up in your space, like we think Alejandro is bad? Wait until Kyle is desperate and needy for your love and attention. This man can and will make his hand cold and force you against him while you cry out from the temperature change. Like this man would find a way to fit his head into your top or hoodie, we do not forget that he will steal your seat, seeking your warmth like a scolded puppy. When he finally pinned you to his side, he would whisper words like “Baby, give those pretty eyes” or “Give me that dazzling smile.”

Captain John Price Now John…John is a bit of a different story. He has some of Simon’s aggression, but he is also so fucking petty, and he is so fucking pouty; he’s not as whiny as the rest of his boys since the rest of the base believes that the boys have inherited some of those whiney and pouty behaviours. But this man is all serious and means looking (So his typical self), but he is stealing your seat, shouting about ‘On your feet lose your seat’, and God don’t put down your drink anywhere he can reach it, cause this man WILL steal it, he does not give two shits if you weren’t finished with it or not. This would go on for hours, to the point where you corner him and ask him what he was doing and his words. “Sorry, didn’t realise it would piss you off”, or “Is my soul unable to cope when things are taken away” he would say as he presses you into the wall, pressing sweet kisses to your cheeks.

Taglist: @cringeycookies,@dneicjefx (If you wanna be in my Taglist: Here) Remember: leaving a like, re-blogging, and commenting helps in this world and encourages more. See you around, my little loves. Kissess.

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ladykailitha · 2 days

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It's rantin' time! That lovely time when your favorite neighborhood steddie author flies off the handle.

Today I want to talk about the physicality of one Edward Munson and how the fan seems to have veered completely off the map.

The fannish notion that Eddie is weak, uninterested in the outdoors, and is clumsy.

But I've never seen anything that suggests any of that.

As always, headcanon what you want. I'm not say you can't say any of these things are what you think he's like, but this is me expressing my confusion because I haven't seen the evidence myself.

Let's start with the one that confuses me the most. That he's clumsy.

We see him leap onto lunch tables and off again without stumbling. We see him jump down off of Skull Rock and land neatly on his feet. We see him climb up the tree in the Upside Down and then safely get back down. All things that require a certain amount of grace.

The only time we see him stumble is when he's joking around with Chrissy or when the earthquake happens.

Admittedly he does have that weird loping run, but not always.

So where does this come from? My guess is that BTS of Joe Quinn tripping over the vine, and people who have only seen the gifs think that he's like that all the time?

This next point bleeds into the notion that he's weak (noodle arms etc.) and that's when he manages to pull himself up using the rope ladder to get out of the Upside Down.

He flops onto the mattress but it looks like he planned it that way as he grins and says that was fun. But to get to that point, he had to climb up the rope ladder.

Now before you tell me that it was adrenaline, he wasn't in immediate danger. He was motivated, sure. But no amount of motivation would get me up that ladder because I've never had the arm strength for it. But next to Steve he looks like he went up the easiest.

The next piece of evidence that people will blame on adrenaline is pinning Steve to the wall of the boathouse and that he had the element of surprise. Yeah...no. He pushes Steve several feet before they hit the wall.

Then there is the hauling of the metal sheets that him and Dustin use to armor the trailer so the demobats don't get in. They can't have been light.

Or grabbing both Mike AND Dustin by the scruff of their necks and yanking them to their feet. Which the average persons couldn't do. One of them, maybe, but both? Takes some serious strength.

Another nod to his endurance at the very least is how he's sitting, crouched, butt above the ground when he's talking to them at Skull Rock. He sits like that the whole time.

I would say that his strength isn't more or less than Steve's only different with the different muscles that they use.

Finally we have a hatred of the outdoors.

He falls into the lake, swims to shore, survives the cold March night wet, manages to find a new walkie talkie and water canteen, gets to Skull Rock and radios the Party. All without a compass, by the way.

He also knows where War Zone is. None of the rest of the Party knows where to go to stock up, but he does.

I'm betting that Wayne took him hunting and fishing as a kid. Back then those were things that you could do fairly cheaply and often food was brought back with them from such trips.

Eddie knows how to survive in the wilderness. Whether or not he likes it, I suppose is entirely up to you, but the evidence suggests that he doesn't mind it.

#my writing #stranger things #ladykailitha rants #eddie munson

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lillikitty · 1 day

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Can I request a scenario with Chuuya in which the Reader acts very irritated and childish when she's sleep-deprived (who is a member of the Port Mafia)? Like they both have feelings for each other, but they haven't confessed yet 😔 (skill issue)

This is a fun idea! I hope I do your request justice! I did this right as I woke up so apologies if it’s not the best.

Chuuya x Sleep Deprived! Reader

The port mafia is not a place for the weak. Most can go several nights without sleeping and still be at their best. However, that doesn’t mean that lack of sleep can’t get to the best of them. Everyone needs sleep after all.

But you don’t believe that. You’ll sleep when you pass out and so far, you haven’t passed out. You got sent on a late night mission 3 nights in a row. You haven’t slept for 3 days and it’s starting to sink in on your brain. Thinking you might be able to finally get a night off, an emergency happened at one of the mafia’s weapon facilities that had you staying up for another night.

You and Chuuya got sent to the facility to wait and see if the culprit who’s sabotaging the transfer of these weapons comes back. You were dragging your feet as your eyelids felt heavy but you knew you had to stay awake. “Chuuyaaaaa, do we have to?” You whine, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between you two.

“Yeah, we do. The boss said so. So stop whining.” He scoffed a bit as he looked at you. You grumbled at him, “Well sorry if I don’t wanna do some stupid mission.” Chuuya is a bit taken aback as you aren’t one to usually call any mission stupid. He looks at you and takes in your demeanor. “Are you tired?” He asks. “Psh, no. I’m not tired, you’re tired.” You say as you stick your tongue out at him. A small smile forms on Chuuya’s face before he chuckles. “I think you are tired. You should’ve said-“ Chuuya was cut off by you tripping him. He caught himself before his face hit the ground and he looked up at you. “See? You’re the tired one.” You hum as you keep walking.

Chuuya picked himself up and followed after you. “Y/n, when was the last time you slept?” He asks with a bit of worry in his voice. “I dunno, 3 or 4 days ago or somethin’.” You’re words have been coming out a bit slurred and Chuuya is probably the only one who’d notice. He frowns a bit at that as this mission is supposed to last all night. It’s a stake out to make sure whoever was at the facility doesn’t come back.

Once you and Chuuya get to your position to watch the facility for the night he looks over at you and watches as you sway a bit, your eyelids fighting the urge to close. He sighs as he takes off his jacket and wraps it around your shoulders before pulling you into his side. “Hey! What’re you-“ You start to protest but Chuuya shushes you. “Just shut up and get some sleep. I’ll wake you if something happens.” He says as he looks away to hide the blush that’s rising to his cheeks. “Nuh uh! I told you I’m not tired!” You protest vocally but your body curls up next to Chuuya’s as your head rests on his shoulder. “I don’t need to sleep.. I’m fine..” A yawn is followed shortly after your protest and your heavy eyelids finally win their battle and close, you were out in seconds.

Chuuya sighs as he looks down at you. He’s never seen you act like this before but he found it rather cute. He brushes some of your hair out of your face as he just holds you close to him. He has no intentions of actually waking you up. He’s just gonna let you sleep as long as you need to.

Nothing happened that night at the facility. Once it was dawn, Chuuya called up Mori to let him know that nothing happened but you and him were taking the rest of the day off. Mori understood and let you both have the day for yourselves. Chuuya ended up carrying you back to his place as you were still out cold. While sleeping, he found you quite peaceful. It was very different from how daring and crazy you were on the battlefield. He unlocked the door to his place and carried you to his room. He laid you down on his bed and was about to take his jacket from you when you grabbed the jacket in your sleep and held it. The blush he had before came flooding back and he just let you be and went to the living room to just relax for the day.

Around 2 PM your eyelids finally fluttered open. You yawned and sat up as you stretched your body out. When you finally took in your surroundings you realized you weren’t in your room, then remembered the stake out mission you panicked. “Oh shit- What happened?” You quickly got up and ran out of the room to only pause when you smelt some food. You peaked around the corner and saw Chuuya cooking. He glanced over his shoulder then smiled. “Good morning sleeping beauty.” He says with a smirk.

“What happened last night? The mission, was everything okay?” You choose to ignore his comment even if it did make you blush a little. “It was fine. Nothing happened. This morning I told Mori to let us have the day off so you could sleep, for 14 hours.” Chuuya chuckled. You went wide eyed. “14 hours? Why didn’t you wake me?” “Because you needed sleep. Now sit down and eat.” Chuuya set a plate of food on the table and pulled out the seat for you to sit down. You sighed and took a seat and looked at the food. You didn’t even realize you were hungry until you started eating, and damn was it some good food.

Once you had your fill you looked at Chuuya who had been eating as well. “Thank you..” You mumbled. “For letting me sleep.” You finished a bit louder that before. Chuuya looked at you and smiled, “Hang out with me more when you’re sleep deprived. You’re funny.” He chuckles. Your face reddens as you can’t quite remember what you said or did and you worry you did something embarrassing. “Oh shut up! I think you just want to be my knight in shining armor again.” You tease, hoping to get him back. Chuuya then grabs your hand and gives it a gentle kiss, “I always will be, and next time I’ll wake sleeping beauty with a kiss.” He teases back. You’re face gets and even darker shade of red as you weren’t prepared for that. However a small smile forms on your lips as you wouldn’t mind being woken up by a kiss from him.

#chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya #chuuya nakahara #bungou stray dogs chuuya #chuuyabsd #bsd x reader #bsd #bungou stray dogs

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maeve-is-annoying-about-books · 3 days

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I didn't really wanna talk ahead of the Dungeon Meshi anime but I had this thought bugging me as I was skimming the manga. So, spoilers for what's to come.

I don't think it's any coincidence that Laios' party, out of a cast of infinitely more capable people, makes it to the final floor of the Dungeon. Why? Cause they aren't heroes.

Look at Kabru, he's the poster boy for anime protagonists. He has a tragic backstory, a personal beef with the dungeon, skills trained by a master of the crafts, and a large party who seems genuinely friendly together. He has everything going for him to one day dive to the bottom and gain closure for his story but he just can't. He never will, because the dungeon does not work on his logic. It turns out that there is no plot armor against hearing a siren sing for the first time.

What about Mithrun then? Personally wronged by the Demon, he's the paradigm of vengeance. A tragic hero who will do anything it takes to get to his goal and probably die achieving it. He has a party full of dark history and interesting dynamics, really laden with moral greyness. Not Berserk but a step closer to it than Kabru's story. But he is, unfortunately, also a classic hero archetype, and although his skills are impressive they aren't fit for the ecosystem around him, singleminded vengeance will see you killed by changelings, the cold, or starvation.

Shuro, it's gotta be Shuro right? A man from a distant land but a familiar one to the primary readerbase. He goes back to train, hone his mind, collect a party, and save the love interest from a cruel fate. Perhaps he will learn there is no saving her, and tragically be forced to slay the monster she's become. His journey ends the second Faligon dies, so he has no chance, ever, of becoming the Dungeon Lord. There doesn't need to be any extra traps to deter him, he'll get what he wants at the fourth level and be gone, his desire simply isn't pointed that way.

Laios, on the other hand. None of his party are heroes, they're all here for selfish reasons and have absolutely zero illusions about heroics and greater goods. Laios is here to save Falin, he only wants his sister to be safe. And to eat and document monsters. Marcille is here for forbidden magic and Falin, and her two desires coincide with her resurrection. Chilchuck is here because he got paid up front and can't leave without rumors spreading. Senshi was always here and he just wants to live in peace with nature. None of them have heroic intent, broadly. But it also means they don't have heroic conceit either.

Laios' party will eat anything. They'll run from battle, take shortcuts. They treat monsters not as grand challenges to overcome but something to fight for their lives with. With their teeth if need be. There is no honor here there is only living. Honor gets you strangled by treasure bugs. Revenge will see you abandon your party to giant spiders for the mere shot at your target. Duty sees you skipping meals because your goal is so important. It is striking how different the dungeon is between Laios and the others. They all treat the dungeon as their personal hell to be striven against and conquered, only Laios sees it as an extension of the living world and understands his place in it. And I think that is so fucking cool, it's so multifaceted. Like, their exact skill set is perfect for getting through the dungeon because of how they all treat it. But also because the dungeon wants them there, because they have very personal, strong desires. Desires that shape their skills, and desires shaped by their skills in a kind of Ouroboros.

And it's an interesting question of how much of both factors into their progress in the story.

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi spoilers #I just think it's neat how only an unlikely hero could make it all work #like it doesn't matter how skilled someone is if they don't try to integrate into the ecosystem #it would be like climbing a mountain without ever having lived on one or trained to climb or reading anything on them

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frozenjokes · 2 days

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the (essentially) government raised super weapon needs a little help realizing he also wants to blow shit up in the parking lot out back but luckily cub is here to support <3

snippet below the cut

Idly, from the crack of his ajar bedroom door, Cub watched Scar through gentle eyes, the other sitting at the couch, ever so slightly slumped as he watched the news, or maybe watch was a strong word, because it looked a bit more like he was sleeping. An awake Scar was never so still, so relaxed, the rise and fall of his shoulders never so slow. An awake Scar typically knew when he was being watched, a strong internal sense, and he would turn around, arm draped over the back of the sofa with a lazy smile, and Cub might greet him, or he might just shut the door, the observation not nearly as fun when the other knew he was there. Cub smiled, basking in the opportunity to simply look without being known. Scar’s hair was a certified mess, more than it usually was, the funny little cowlick at the back of his head completely out of control. Not that Scar ever tried very hard to tame it anyway. But today he didn’t have to try at all, because today he was here, and there were no cameras, no scrutiny. Well, maybe there was a little scrutiny, but Grian wasn’t home right now. Just Cub. Just Cub.

Scar’s legs were in the shop today, routine maintenance and things, but instead of spending the day in town as he typically did on these types of off days, he asked to spend it here, to just hang out, relax. Take off the mask and not think at all. And who would Cub be to deny him?

There was something so deeply satisfying seeing him here, out of uniform. He had arrived in it out of necessity; very few people had no legs and wheelchairs decked out in HotGuy merchandise, but Scar had changed once inside, visibly reveling in the luxury of being Here. In a place with people he trusted. No mask. No legs. No uniform. Being.. Scar. Given the nuclear identity crises Scar had been experiencing lately, this was nothing short of the ultimate freedom. And what an honor to be able to provide that, to be trusted enough that even a man so deeply insecure of his place in the world could find it in himself to just relax around you. To be himself. To fall asleep on the sofa without the fear of sharp edges.

Cub ducked out of his room, tip-toeing over to shut off the news. He didn’t care to hear it, and didn’t think it was too good for Scar either, not today. The scene reimagined to his liking, Cub slunk back to his room then walked from it again, normally, and draped his arms around Scar’s neck, humming. Scar roused, and Cub got the pleasure of seeing him blink away sleep.

“Ello,” Scar mumbled, leaning back to hit Cub’s chest with his head, and Cub closed his eyes, a small smile forming across his lips (maybe. Sometimes when he thought he was smiling, he didn’t look any different at all, his mind’s eye only playing tricks on his physical sense of self).

“Hi. You tired?”

Scar gave the question a moment of thought, endearingly, trying to push back further into the couch, like the barrier between them was a great frustration. Cub didn’t make any move to be closer, internally amused. Scar sighed, “Not really. Just got a bit bored, closed my eyes. Was still listening.”

Cub very much doubted that. He didn’t think Scar was lying or anything, just that he simply didn’t know how asleep he really was. No point addressing it though. “That’s good. I was thinking about you, y’know.” Cub snaked around the side of the couch, settling himself half on top of Scar, probably with far less grace than he was imagining. Whatever the case, Scar didn’t seem to care, looking more delighted than anything to have Cub so close.

#hermitcraft #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #cubfan135 #cubfan #grian #convex #cubscar #grub #convexian #cubscarian #scarian #fic art #hotguy #CUBGUY #he’s lurking….

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apalapucian · 1 day

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pureblood parties are always so unnecessarily dim. like vampire dens. or how james imagines them to be, at least. cascading velvet. candlelight. it’s especially pretentious now, he thinks, with the theme being masquerade, the elaborate masks making everyone look the same. not human. an entirely new species between veelas and peacocks, all jewels and feathers.

he doesn't feel like himself without his glasses as well. and he just — doesn't feel real in general, stirred in here among them. like he's an oil painting of himself. he glides through the crowd and feels colors drip in his wake.

he finds lily by the punch table, nursing a crystal goblet, drinking molten gold.

his gait falters. his heart does also.

(lily always looks clear to him. real and human. all her colors entirely to herself.)

"any sign of him?" he asks when he reaches her. he’s been scouring the ballroom for their target tonight — a ministry official the order suspects has been imperiused — to no luck.

"no," she says, gaze sweeping the crowd. "and god, this dress is so itchy."

"shame. you look like a million galleons in it."

she turns to him, million-galleon smile on. "i’m surprised you can put a definite price on it."

"aw, don’t feel bad. it’s just an expression. you know i think you’re priceless."

"yeah?"

he grins. in answer, he asks, "wanna dance?"

and so they dance.

the song is a slow waltz, grand orchestra. it sounds like one of his mum's favorites. he can't name it though. there's just that vague, soft-lit memory: his mum's smile, his dad's wrinkled hands.

his dance partner's attention is still on the crowd.

"maybe he’s not here," he says. his attention is entirely on her.

"maybe," she says. "i just don't want to... waste the night."

"well, if we have fun while we're at it, it won't be a waste at all."

she smiles. with him now, fully. "and do you mean dancing like this, or — ?"

"or," he answers. "decidedly or."

she laughs. "really? here?"

"why not?"

"uh, because? we're surrounded by enemies?"

"the risk — ah, how do i put it — elevates the experience, won't you say? and it's not like we haven't done it before."

she stops waltzing. "you're serious."

"it's james, actually. sirius is at home."

she laughs again. then, chin up and smirking, his hand in hers, she leads him out of the dance floor.

—

the wall is cold against his back, and, even worse, it's uneven; one of those stupid pureblood family trees carved on marble. once by themselves she starts kissing him like she's in a great hurry, hands all over. james lets her.

the floors here are so black and so shiny it looks like they're floating on a lake. the one at hogwarts, specifically. he kissed lily there for the first time. by it. the trunk of the beech tree he was pressed against at the time was uneven too, but lily was warm on him. and soft. and perfect.

(god, you're too much, she told him that day, coming up for air, lips almost as red as her hair. a fucking goddess.

you're alright, i guess, he replied, just some regular mortal. it made her laugh so much though. and james reckons making her laugh feels close enough to playing god.)

the light is sparse here, now; just whatever filters in through the giant windows and the cracks between doors. the crescent moon is somehow reflected by james's feet. a ridiculous thought, stepping on the moon. he thinks of remus.

she sucks on his pulse point just then, sighing something against his skin, and james seizes that moment of distraction — tightens his grip on her waist and turns them in one swift movement so she's against the wall. she gasps, back hitting the grooves and ridges with a thud.

he looks down at her. although still wide-eyed, she's looking at him an entirely different way now. he takes her mask off. his hands are shaking. he hopes she doesn't notice. she probably doesn't; the mask's barely left her face and she's reaching up to unbutton his shirt further, nip on his collarbone, too preoccupied to notice much else. it's so hard to catch her eyes here, so frantic and so dark. her reds are all bruise-purple. her green all wrong.

he takes her cold, roaming hands, puts them together, then singlehandedly pins her wrists above her head. she likes that, watched him do it throughout, breath hitching.

then she feels the cold sharp blade against her neck.

she doesn't like that. quite expectedly.

"what the fuck?" she snaps, trying to break free at once. "what are you doing?"

"nothing yet," says james, holding on, ironclad. "but scream and you'll find out."

she keeps quiet, makes a show of pressing her lips together. she glares but doesn't dare move, the glinting end of the dagger too close to skin.

"first," james says, voice low, "you're going to drop your wand."

she complies. the wand clatters on the floor, the sound echoing in the empty hall.

"and then my wand."

her eyes widen, mouth falling open in shock. slowly, defeatedly, she does as she's told.

"good. now you're going to tell me where the fuck my wife is."

"i — but james — "

the tip of the dagger stains red. just the tip of it. barely there. shift and you miss it. except her. or him. whoever the fuck this is doesn't miss it. they press themselves best they can against the wall, but the sting's already started, and there's nowhere to go.

james tilts his head and looks them dead in the eye. "do i seriously look like i'll buy it right now?"

he watches them consider, feels their heart thunder under his weapon hand. the consideration turns to doubt. then it turns to fear. "i'll tell you," they say. it's lily's voice, frenzied and scared, and james wants to scream. wants to sink the blade lower. "i'll tell you," they insist. it's not her, james begs himself to remember. lily is always clear. with her, wherever, the colors are never wrong. "just — please. i'll tell you everything i know, please don't hurt me — "

"oh, if lily is hurt in any way at all," james interrupts, his own heart raging in his chest. "rest assured that people will get hurt." the blade drags, thin red line appearing. he stares at it. he didn't mean to do that. it takes all of his remaining self-control to draw his eyes back up and still his hand.

not her. not her.

not lily.

" — and you're first on my list."

#jily #jily*#james potter #lily evans #marauders era #apalapucian*#ugh good night this one came out of nowhere and wouldnt let me sleep until i'd posted it and IM SO TIREDDD. sorry if it's a bit clunky #i'll edit tomorrow maybe #heres a thing! byeee

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flamingpudding · 4 hours

Note

do you still take requests? if you do can you write your take on this idea https://www.tumblr.com/ilydana/746501696852819968/cloneclonedbatman?source=share

Thanks for the Ask! That's is an interesting one!

Also as long as I can write something to it I don't mind getting requests, if I can't I will let people know if I can. So no worries about that K?

Out of courtesy and because I believe its is the right thing to do here the Link and a Tag to the original writer @ilydana I hope you don't mind that I am taking inspiration from you for this.

Also I don't know Conners Timeline well and I like to base my writings on the Wayne Family Adventures settings so.... yea sorry if I got some facts wrong....

-------------------------------

Clone double Wamy

Thinks were never easy for the Waynes, Bruce realised that when he sat in the meeting room. Usually he would have confronted his best friend in a more private setting, like when it was just the two of them or only Diana with them. But his best friend had been grating on his nerves with this for a while now. Bruce had honestly believed Clark had gotten better with the whole Clone thing but apparently he hadn't.

"All I am saying is that Conner is a person and to stop referring to him as 'it'." Bruce wasn't sure what had this brought on but maybe it was also having listened to his own kids rants about the way Conner had been and sometimes still was treated by Clark. Usually when someone called his friend out on it he would laugh awkwardly and say it was a slip of the tongue. That he still wasn't completely used to the idea of having a clone.

It's been years and Bruce wasn't buying that excuse anymore.

Well his persistent nagging had now caused this petty fight in front of everyone. He knew his children present, Dick and Tim, would have his back as well as most of their friends. But he also knew that those that prefer to keep the peace would try to argue in Clarks favor to sweep this hole problem under the rug once more.

"You don't get what it is like to be cloned or how long it takes to get used to it!"

His eye twitched under his cowl, he could also feel his kids tense up, especially Tim. His entire family had expirence when it came to cloning. The number of labs from the LoA they had shut down and destroyed was a testament to it. But there was one thing his entire Family aside from Alfred didn't know either.

"I actually do."

He stated calmly watching Clarks reaction as he stared unwaveringly at his best friend. He could see the colour drain, the paling and the pure look of disbelief he was getting, while Nightwing and Red Robin stood up to stand behind him with crossed arms. They probably thought he was referencing the time they had to fight Damian's Clones that sadly couldn't be saved like Conner had been.

"What do you....?" His best friend started but wasn't able to finish his question as Bruce decided to rip the bandaid off.

"The original Bruce Wayne died before he even was one month old. My parents, unable to cope with the loss cloned the baby with the help of a pair of scientist from Illinois." If the situation was different he might have laughed into the faces the people around him were making, not very Batman like of him but it was kind of funny. Still he was thankful for the comforting hand his son, Dick, placed on his shoulder or the way his other son, Tim inched closer protectively like. These two while probably shocked still stood by his side.

"And i was not the only clone that resulted from my parents original grief."

He left it at that as he stood and left the meeting without any further explanation. Bruce had made his point clear, now the ball was in his friends court. He was thankful that his kids followed him out as he went straight to the Zeta-Tubes to return to the Batcave. He knew his kids had questions for him, but he was not willing to answer them in front of the other heroes and thankfully his kids knew that that. So they silently followed him until they were back to the cave.

"B?" Dick asked tentatively once they were back in the came.

"It is as simply as I stated. My parents grieved the loss of their original son and unable to cope they cloned their own child with the help of a pair of scientist." He reiterated his earlier statement not looking at the two at first. For a brief moment he was thankful his other kids were out and about busy with other things.

"A pair of scientists?" Tim propped further and Bruce sighed wondering how much he should tell or if he could keep some things secret.

"Family actually. Estranged but they were... are family." He nodded. "The Fentons. Jack Fenton was my fathers cousin. Because of his field of research he got estranged from the family, not fitting into the perfect image my great grandparents had in mind for the Waynes originally. My father contacted him for help regarding the cloning back then."

"You said you weren't the only one?" He gave Tim a small smile, it was just like him to catch on to the small details and focus his questions on that.

"I didn't know until many years later when my parents died." He smiled a little remembering back to his training with Lady Gotham and how she asked him if he had siblings and then proceeded to introduce him to his clone twin. Ever since then Danny had become quite the fixture in his life, a reconnected family member. Though they had needed a lot of help when it came to actually speaking with each other but that thankfully Danny's sister Jazz helped.

He couldn't help the laugh that escaped him when he noticed Dick's stare of realisation. "Uncle Danny!"

Bruce just smirked, chuckling lightly as he gave his eldest a slight nod. "Danny."

Dick was the most familiar with Danny having meet the other a couple of times when he was younger and just started out as Robin. Bruce wasn't ashamed to say that Danny and Alfred had been the two he had asked for advice the most when he had taken Dick in back then. Danny had already expirence in raising kids from an even younger age than Bruce had. That their two cousins Dan and Danielle were in a way clones too was however something he would not be telling his kids yet. Frankly it wasn't his place and honestly if Danny hadn't become as comfortable as he had with this fact over the year he wouldn't have outed his clone twin to his kids either.

"So...." Tim started, rubbing the back of his head nervously. "...what now? Not that it will change anything now but uh...."

"Nothing really? I mean if Clark still got a problem then well I guess we don't have a super uncle anymore? But hey maybe we could introduce Uncle Danny to Conner?" Dick shrugged turning to Tim.

"But that would mean we admit to Uncle Danny that B let us in in the secret and that could make things awkward and..."

"Tim you are overthinking! It will be fine!"

Bruce smiled as he watched his two sons start to argue wether or not to introduce Danny to Conner. Well even if they did Danny wouldn't mind it. In fact Bruce had kept his clone twin updated on a lot of things that happened with his work as Batman. One of the reasons was that Danny had started out in the hero business way sooner than Bruce had but also because Danny was his last resort contingency plan against everything.

His twin would probably laugh in their faces and ask why it took them so long to introduce them and then drag his own daughter to meet Conner so they could have some 'clone'-bonding time and knowing Danielle, she was going to drag Dan along and then Bruce himself too. Bruce chuckled at that thought, he also knew that if Clark doesn't clean up his act than Danny would most likely swoop in and adopt Conner right out of under Clarks nose.

Well all he had to say if it came to that was that his best friend wouldn't be able to blame anyone but himself then.

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livwritesstuff · 2 days

Note

I’ve got birthdays on the brain, so now I’m wondering how the guys handle the girls birthdays over the years and if they have any fun traditions as a family?

Oh yeah birthdays are definitely a Big Deal in the Harrington house. I feel like that comes from a combination of Eddie never having enough money to have a real birthday celebration growing up and Steve never having people who cared in the way he needed.

I think the way birthdays gets celebrated changes over the years and as the girls get older, but in general the conversation usually starts with we can do whatever you want (within reason, Steve usually interjects before things can get out of hand). When the girl are little, they do everything from hosting a formal princess tea party (Hazel’s sixth birthday — Eddie spent a month thrifting all the china cups and plates and saucers) to renting out a skate park after hours for laser tag (Moe’s 11th — Steve barely refrained from totally wiping the floor with a bunch of fifth-graders).

Once the girls hit middle school, they start wanting different things — usually big sleepovers with all their friends, but Hazel will sometimes ask for a shopping day instead, and for Robbie’s sixteenth birthday she bartered for her fourth lobe piercings (which Steve was happy to oblige given that it’s not exactly a big ask, and she’d done the second and third ones on herself which….wasn’t ideal).

No matter what the plan ends up being, they usually do the standard cake and ice cream and presents type of deal, and they definitely have some unspoken traditions that weren't necessarily planned, per se, but happen annually nonetheless.

Without fail, Eddie always gets all sad the night before a birthday because, "It's your last day ever being [insert age here]."

It first happened when Moe was about to turn two and Eddie realized that the year he’d spent telling everyone about his one-year-old baby (and it had been a seriously fun year too — the best one yet) was undeniably over, and he wasn’t ready to admit that Moe wasn’t really even a baby anymore. He spent the whole night before her second birthday snuggling her and bemoaning to Steve about how, “the merciless passage of time has claimed yet another victim”.

It turned into an annual thing — Eddie making a whole show out of telling the girls to stop growing up, which they totally eat up when they're little, and pretend to be exasperated by when they're teenagers (even though they still love it).

I also think Eddie would be the party mastermind, whereas Steve likes to focus on the little things.

Birthday morning breakfasts look like a whole plate with their name spelled out in pancake letters, and a little too much syrup and berries and a swirl of whipped cream with a candle sticking out of it, and Steve ties a bunch of balloons to their designated chair at the kitchen table, and he spends the whole rest of the day making sure that even the mundane moments are making them feel special and celebrated.

#are we birthday lovers or birthday haters?#or somewhere in the middle #I hate my own birthday but love everyone else's #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie dads

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theonceandfuturequeenoftarts · 2 days

Text

Vampirism would never be Voldemort’s preferred form of existence, but needs must.

It’s unfortunate that the Ministry seized his body for examination instead of burying him – or even putting his corpse on display, he merits at least that much. But alas, when his back-up plan finally kicks in (well, the horcruxes were his initial back-up plan, but hardly the only one. One can never be too careful when it comes to ensuring one’s continued survival), he’s on an examination table surrounded by Aurors and Unspeakables. Not ideal for making his escape, especially when he’s weak and disoriented.

He manages to latch onto the nearest mage and drink enough of their blood to mount a defence and get to the exit, but being a vampire is different enough that he’s taken down before he makes it more than two steps through the door. How humiliating.

So now, here he is, tucked somewhere in the bowels of the Ministry with guards posted just out of sight, interrogated frequently on such matters as who his Death Eaters are, the extent of his crimes, what he knows (far more than these dunderheads can comprehend), and on and on. He gives them nothing, unless it doesn’t matter anymore and will just frustrate them to know. Then he provides more detail than they would ever want. Their methods of information extraction are laughable, anyway.

They only try to starve him to death once. After he rips through the wards and bars containing him and drains one of his guards dry, they don’t try it again. Now, they bring him some kind of blood in pouches once every few days. It sustains him, but that’s about all that can be said for it. He doesn’t feel hungry, per se, but too long without blood makes a headache pound behind his eyes and worsens his already irascible nature.

He’s certain he could escape this cell if he wanted to, but it’s taking him far longer to adapt to being a vampire than he had expected. His magic functions differently, his senses are heightened and inconsistent, and he’s unsure what his reaction to sunlight will be. (Or even regular indoor lighting – it’s kept quite dim in this corridor.) He’s willing to be patient and make his move when the time is right.

(㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

It’s during one of the Minister’s occasional visits – as though he has any respect for the position and will give up his secrets more easily – that he appreciates his intensified sense of smell for the first time.

(His guards could stand to brush up on their cleaning charms. They don’t appreciate it when he shares this knowledge with them.)

It’s enticing, the fragrance, and strong enough that it almost feels visible, wafting down the corridor from the open door. He feels himself drawn to the scent, only stopping when he hits the bars. It takes a fair bit of self-control to resist pulling them apart and pursuing the delicious smell. “Who walked by just now?”

“That isn’t of any concern to you,” Shacklebolt says flatly.

One of the Aurors snaps, “We’re asking the que–”

“Bring them here,” Voldemort commands. “Or we’ll find out exactly how well these new wards will hold up against me.”

His ability to enthral the Aurors guarding him might be limited by the amulets they wear, but the fact that it still affects them at all seems to terrify them more. One looks to the Minister, hands shaking; he races off once he gets the nod.

Shacklebolt attempts to stare him down, which would be more impressive if he’d been able to do it before Voldemort had his metaphorical wings clipped. Once he realises Voldemort has no intention of engaging in a childish staring contest, the other man chats quietly with the remaining guards.

The Auror returns, looking pale and pinched. “Er, Minister Shacklebolt…”

“Who is it?”

The Auror slides his eyes over to Voldemort before returning to meet the Minister’s gaze and shaking his head.

The look is telling. He makes an educated guess and calls out, “Harry Potter.”

After a brief pause, the tense, angry silence is shattered by the thud of footsteps rapidly approaching before the boy skids to a stop before Voldemort’s cell, panting for breath and looking horrified and enraged by what he finds.

“What the hell is he doing here–”

“Harry, wait–”

“He’s alive?!”

“Let’s go talk about this–”

“Hello again, Harry Potter,” Voldemort cuts in. “So kind of you to finally visit me.”

“How in Merlin’s name did you survive?” Potter shouts, sounding a touch hysterical.

“Come closer and I’ll tell you.” A rather transparent ploy, but the scent of the boy’s blood has his head reeling. And, well, Potter has never needed a sophisticated touch to lure him in.

Shacklebolt snarls at him and quickly raises the silencing barrier that prevents him from being heard beyond the walls of his cell. What a pity.

He says, “I’ll see you soon,” ensuring his mouth moves deliberately enough for the message to get through even if it can’t be heard. Potter’s brows furrow at him, eyes aflame, before he follows the Minister down the corridor, irately demanding to know everything.

No matter. If Shacklebolt thinks Potter won’t find a way back here, he doesn’t know the boy at all.

(㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

It takes four days before Potter skulks out of the shadows around Voldemort’s cell.

Voldemort knows from the moment he enters the corridor, even if he can’t see the boy getting closer. Wild, black hair and a lumpy jumper emerge from under an invisibility cloak directly in front of his cell, just inside the sound barrier. Clever boy.

“Come now, you’re not afraid of me, are you?” he taunts. “I’m no danger to you from in here. You can step closer.”

A vampire’s power of suggestion works just as well as the Imperius does against Potter. He’d expected it, but the boy’s mental resilience remains irritating.

“Did you seriously think that would work?” Potter says incredulously.

“I have so little entertainment, I’m not in a position to be picky,” he mockingly laments. “In any case, congratulations. You’ve exceeded my admittedly low expectations of you.”

“Tosser,” the boy mutters, before demanding, “What are you doing here?”

He raises a judgemental, nonexistent eyebrow. “Well, when the Ministry offered me room and board in perpetuity for the low cost of my freedom and privacy, how could I refuse?”

If looks could kill, Potter might actually have a chance at putting him in the ground permanently. “You know that’s not what I was asking,” he snaps. “How are you here, alive?”

Voldemort observes the boy for a moment. Deep bruises under his eyes, still too skinny – no one at home to notice if he goes missing.

“I propose a trade,” he says, moving ever so slowly closer towards the bars. “I have something you want, and you have something I want. Surely we can come to a mutually satisfying agreement.”

“What could I possibly want from you?” Potter grits.

“Isn’t it obvious? Your curiosity, Harry Potter, would put the proverbial cat to shame. You have questions.” Voldemort reaches out and wraps a hand around one of the bars. “And I have answers, if you’re willing to barter for them.”

Potter considers this, looking torn. Voldemort is confident the boy's need to know will win out. And he's correct.

“What do you want?”

“Something that I am certain will answer at least one of your questions. Come closer and you’ll find out.”

That nets him an unimpressed look. “I’m not stupid, you know,” Potter says.

“No, you aren’t, but you are rather gullible at times,” he replies with a grin.

“You are such a prick,” the boy says, almost wonderingly. “Fine. How are you alive? I saw you die. I checked your pulse, even.”

“You want to know how I am alive,” he says mysteriously. “How do you know that I am?”

Potter gives him a flat look. “Well, the whole walking and talking thing kind of gave it away.”

“Animate and alive are two different things,” he corrects.

“You pedantic–” the boy begins cursing, before pausing and considering the words more closely. Voldemort smiles and ensures his fangs are visible. “You’re a vampire,” Potter concludes quietly.

“Thirty points to Gryffindor,” Voldemort mocks.

Potter is still staring at him, and he can almost see the dots connecting in the other’s mind. “What you want is the answer… You want my blood?!”

“Oh, well done, Harry Potter. We’ll make a scholar of you yet.”

“Absolutely not,” Potter says firmly. “You really must think I’m stupid, if you think I’d let you bite me.”

“Where’s your sense of fairness? I’ve answered some of your questions, but you won’t keep up your end of the bargain?”

“You want to kill me!”

“Not anymore,” he maybe-lies. He’s fairly certain the prophecy lost its relevance once he died at Hogwarts. If so, he’s not particularly fussed about what happens to the boy now.

Potter shouts, indignantly, “Like I’d believe that!”

And, well, he can’t blame Potter for his scepticism. He has spent the better part of eighteen years repeatedly attempting to kill the boy. But that’s neither here nor there.

“You made a trade with me,” he reminds the boy. “It’s hardly my fault that you failed to clarify the terms of the deal beforehand.”

“Fucking…” Potter tugs on his hair, looking frustrated. “Fine. But you’re not allowed to kill me.”

Voldemort gives him an indulgent look. “I swear.”

“I can’t believe this…” the boy mutters. “How…?”

“Give me your hand.” He’s close; he’s so close…

Looking like he’d rather be anywhere else and giving Voldemort a warning look, Potter slowly slides his left hand between the bars. Voldemort pulls the boy’s wrist towards his mouth, ignoring the wary glare boring into the side of his head, and bites down.

Finally.

He feels like he’s been starving for years – a feeling made all the more intolerable by the complete lack of hunger he’s felt since his bodily resurrection. Slaking his thirst for the first time is revelatory – if he’ll experience this transcendent feeling each time he drinks, he finally understands why vampires accept the troublesome aspects of their nature.

He drinks deep, revelling in the euphoria coursing through his veins. On the periphery of his awareness, he can hear the boy making noise, but the wards will prevent the sounds from escaping. He feels Potter’s other hand pushing at his shoulder, his face, and wonders whether he should kill the boy here and now.

But he’s not so lost in bloodlust that he forgets how disappointing the Auror was when he’d drank from her. The taste of her blood was barely different from the blood bags they give him. Perhaps, much like the scent of his blood is rare, the intoxicating taste of Potter’s blood is equally uncommon. He can survive with the blood of others, but…

Existence is so much more enjoyable with little luxuries to break up the monotony.

So he stops before the boy’s blood levels fall dangerously low. Potter will even be able to walk out of here, if a little unsteadily. If this becomes a regular thing (and he hopes it will, until he makes his escape and can steal the boy away to feed on as he pleases), he’ll have to recommend Potter bring blood replenishers.

He floats back down to earth slowly, enjoying the warm, effervescent feeling filling his body and mind. When he opens his eyes again, he sees he’s not the only one affected.

Potter is leaning heavily against the bars, left arm limply hanging from Voldemort’s grasp, and panting like he can’t catch his breath. His face is flushed – though the unflushed sections of skin are decidedly paler than usual – and his body keeps twitching. Perhaps he’d taken too much blood. Or the boy is having an adverse reaction.

Voldemort licks the bite wound to help speed the healing – can’t have his portable meal bleeding out, after all. As his tongue slides across the boy’s wrist, Potter whimpers. Needily.

Hmm.

That recontextualizes the boy’s other physical cues.

“Why Harry, did you enjoy that?” he asks, exhaling an unnecessary breath over the damp flesh of Potter’s wrist. A low, soft moan and a glassy-eyed glare are his only response.

This could be entertaining.

He passes Potter’s hand back through the bars and watches the boy straighten up on wobbly legs.

“May I offer some assistance–”

“No!” Potter gasps, pushing away from the bars, though his hand remains firmly gripped around one to hold himself up.

“Very well. I appear to have taken more than was fair for the questions you asked, and you’re in no state to ask any more at the moment,” Voldemort says smugly. “I’ll be sure to answer a few extra queries for you next time in exchange.”

“Next time,” Potter says, a slight rasp to his voice. From the frown on his face he means it to come out angrily, but the breathiness makes it sound more like a promise.

Voldemort reaches through the bars to take the boy’s invisibility cloak from his pocket and fasten it around his neck, pulling the hood up as he says, “Yes, next time. Until then, Harry Potter.”

Potter lingers outside his cell for a minute, likely gathering himself for the walk back, before Voldemort hears his slightly unsteady steps moving away.

He starts to think of all the avenues this opens to him – and all the fun he can have while he waits for the opportune moment to leave here.

After all, Potter will be back.

#voldemort #harry potter #harrymort #vampire!voldemort #captivity #harry “making bad decisions” potter #fic snippet #cw blood

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