#A Prisoner of Balconies | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bunbunlovestowrite · 2 months

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How the Hashira men react to your neighbor asking you to be quiet

Characters: Tengen, Sanemi, Rengoku, Obanai, Gyomei, Giyuu,

Additional shit: Swearing, Sanemi fighting said neighbor, Rengoku being blunt, mentions of sex, ooc mot likely :p

Tengen

He couldn't care less

His whole thing is being flashy and loud so he wants you to be loud

Like it's not his fault that dick is magical

After he shoos your neighbor away he makes sure to be as loud as possible that night

He's pounding into your cunt and you swear your gonna break when he whispers "okay now scream exactly how big my dick is. Don't forget the tip color-"

He gets cut off by you hitting him with the pillow

Way to ruin the mood

But that doesn't stop him and instead he goes harder, making sure the bed creaks loud ASF for your neighbor

"Not my fault he doesn't know how to please a woman." Is his main reason for doing so

He really wants you to scream his name so it's imbedded in your neighbors head

"Morning N/N!" Him to your neighbor from the balcony while your trying to get out of bed and failing

"Actually die." Both you and your neighbor to Tengen

Sanemi

Cares alot

Why the fuck is that limp dick biscuit talking to you and him? Who does he think he is?

You were the one who broke the news to him thankfully cause if Sanemi was the one who opened the door then you'd have to see your husband through glass in a prison

Just kidding. The Slayer corp would get him out of trouble if he didn't do it himself.

Anyways

Sanemi made it his goal to piss your neighbor off as much as possible

Your under him, practically creaming on his cock, and he's slamming the wall yelling "This loud enough yet?! Huh!?"

Not kidding I can see him doing that

He quite literally had you against a window where your neighbors could see him destroying you just to make them mad or uncomfortable, hopefully both.

But then he'd get pissed someone else would see you all naked and fucked out so he settled for the wall next to the window

One day your neighbor, finally having enough, bangs on your door yelling and guess who opens it...Sanemi!!

Good Lord was he waiting for this

It took one punch and the guy was out

Kinda what happens when you put a normal dude against a guy who kills demons for a living

Rengoku

He's a good neutral between caring and not caring

Like he doesn't wanna make your neighbors mad but he also loves hearing your screams

So he tries to keep you quiet during sex but fails since he gets to into it to give a fuck

The next days his loud ass voice wakes you up

"IM SORRY FOR MAKING INCREDIBLE LOVE TO MY WIFE!" He's not being sarcastic thats his genuine apology

Your facepalming and you want to die when you see your neighbor and she can't look at you

"PERHAPS SHES MAD BECAUSE HER HUSBAND CANNOT PLEASE HER!" Rengoku says casually and you know she can hear you from outside in her garden

"Inside voices!" You place your hands over his mouth to try and shut him up.

It works for a bit before he's yelling again

You love your husband but holy shit you wish he would speak normally sometimes

He's actually quiet in bed though

So your the problem (real)

Obanai

I'm not an Obanai fan so forgive me for how bad his section will be

Obanai is a quiet mf, and you're not even that loud

It's your neighbor who was the problem

A little old man whose hearing aids apparently had the power of 67 suns

You and Obanai found this out when he was outside training and your neighbor came over

He was so sweet and polite and even chuckled at Obanai's redness

Obanai cared at first but got over it

You? You make sure to not make a PEEP in bed

Okay that pisses Obanai off but he understands your reasons

At least make a gasp or sum cause he's over here like "Wait does this feel good? Can she feel it? Did I forget where the clit is?"

Brother is STRESSING

Then you cum and he's like "ah"

Then he's like "Did you take it?"

You have to keep yourself from murdering him cause how tf would you fake squirting

Gyomei

Babe I'm not gonna lie, you're a screamer

Gyomei is built like a house and your telling me your just gonna whine and whimper?

Your over here crying and screaming into his chest, neck, the pillow, anything.

And Gyomei loves it!

He can't see your reactions so hearing and feeling them let's him know he's doing good

Gyomei isn't loud but he's not quiet

He'll grunt and moan and praise you, but he's not gonna cry out.

Well he'll cry but you can never tell from what

When the pussy so good you start crying 😭🙏

When your neighbor politely asked you to be a tad bit quieter Gyomei actually laughed

Not in a 'nah we'll keep being loud' way but more of a 'sorry we'll be quiet' way. He also found it hilarious how you actually died of embarrassment.

Don't worry he thinks its endearing

Yet it was kinda hard for him since he enjoyed hearing you

But your touches and now quieter moans made that better

And then there's also you literally drawing blood from his back you were scratching so hard

Giyuu

Holy shit you have never seen him so embarrassed

Like you could shade match his Haori to him and get the exact same color

He was the one your neighbor told and he stopped working when 'loud' and 'moaning' left their lips

If a demon doesn't kill him then his own actions will

Giyuu isn't loud, and he loves that he can make you feel so good that your loud for him.

But he didn't want your neighbor back over at your house so he tried to keep you quiet

You were super confused when he held his hand over your mouth in bed and he just pointed to your neighbors house. Then you got it.

So you nod and try to keep quiet.

You know in school when the teacher tells you and a friend to shut up but they look at you funny and you break?

Yeah that was you

You were riding Giyuu one night and you were loud so he was like "holy shit I love you but please- I can't look our neighbor in the eyes anymore."

And you couldn't help but laugh

Like howling

You calmed down obviously but sex was very giggle filled after that

You've never seen Giyuu so panicked

But give him a week and he'll stop caring

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heavysighing-dreamyeyes · 2 months

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A Gilded Cage

The penthouse you're in is beautiful, the closet filled with the finest clothes, the kitchen stocked with your favorite foods, the only problem is; you never asked for this. The Arkham Knight doesn't seem to care. Part One of this series. CW: kidnapping ~1.5k words

You don't know who the Arkham Knight is. You don't know why he kidnapped you from your apartment and locked you away in some penthouse far too fancy for someone with no sway in Gotham.

None of it makes sense. You wouldn't even know his name if you didn't overhear the men dropping off food and necessitates for you talk about him.

They never get too close to you, which eases some of the panic in your throat, but they've only ever spoken to you once. One of the men had dropped a notepad on the marble counter and grumbled something about writing down whatever you need before leaving you to yourself. Being so alone in a gilded cage almost makes you wish they'd say more.

It's not like you haven't tried escaping, but you're on the top floor of some building you only recognized as being in the Diamond District because you can see the glowing symbol of Wayne Tower in the distance. The one time you did try to break down the door, you found out there are in fact guards stationed outside your prison.

You've never been hurt. Never gone hungry or cold. There's a television and more books than you'll ever have time to read. (You try to ignore how many of them are your favorites. It has to be a coincidence.) The kitchen is always stocked and the apartment is always cleaned. (You haven't quite figured out when that happens.) Anything you've ever asked for is delivered and sitting on the glass table when you wake up.

You had only asked for diamonds and pearls once. Curiosity and frustration had gotten the better of you, and when sets of shiny jewels greeted you in the morning, you wanted to faint.

They sit stuffed in a drawer now, and your hands shake when you check to see if they're still there. They sit alongside a note written in messy script, the one asking if you'd prefer a dress or a suit to match the choker made of sapphires. Or perhaps something to match the headpiece encrusted with rubies?

You're starting to think being alone for so long is making you crazy. You wake up sometimes at night, shifting against the soft sheets and feathered pillows and your heart neatly stops at the glowing eyes in the doorway.

Fear stops your voice from coming out and by the time you've worked up the courage to hit the lamp, whatever it was is gone. He's gone. The first time, you told yourself it was a nightmare. The second, a trick of the light. But the third, when you woke to the rough texture of gloves tracing the curve of your jaw, that was real.

You had frozen. Eyes shut tight and heart racing. The touch was gentle, almost non-existent, and if the near silent, rhythmic breathing hadn't reached your ears, you would have believed it to be a dream.

You don't know how long you stayed like that, your kidnappers' fingers brushing your face while you pretended to sleep. The feeling disappears eventually, and you fall back asleep. You lie to yourself when morning comes, that it was something you imagined.

You've lost count of the days, the weeks, it's been like this. You're not even sure what to call the situation. You're not a pet. You're not a hostage. A prisoner? Yes. But prisoners are never treated so lavishly without a reason.

Curiosity gets the better of you. How could it not when 'why' always haunts your thoughts? You pretend to be asleep. Night after night, you wait for him to come again. But it's like he knows. He's aware that you're waiting.

So, you write on the pristine notepad. You ask to be let go.

There's nothing on the glass table when you wake up, but the notepad is empty of words. The day seems to pass in a haze.

By the time night comes again, you're livid. You'd throw things at the glass enclosing the balcony if it wasn't something you tried already.

You stalk your way out of the bedroom, intent on making coffee and staying up until you can finally face the person who's trapped you here.

Your bravado disappears at the sight of the figure standing in the middle of the room.

The glowing lights of the city illuminates his silhouette. The military style gear, the eerily familiar glowing eyes, the guns holstered at his thighs. All your words and curses and questions stick to your tongue.

"You can't go home," a modulated voice tells you.

"Why?" You breathe out, eyes darting over his figure. You're not scared. You can't explain it, but as frightening as he should be, as terrifying as this situation should be, he doesn't feel unsafe.

He doesn't answer, doesn't move. If it wasn't for the slight rise and fall of his shoulders, you'd think he wasn't human. Silence falls for a longer than you know what to do with, "This your home," he says, voice even and factual.

"This isn't a home," your protest, anger flaring, "this is a prison cell!"

He steps towards you, menacing and threatening as he hisses, "This is nothing like a cell. You know nothing. You're safe here. Provided for. I've given you everything you could need."

"I'm alone here!" You snap out, despite your better judgment.

"I'll get you a pet," he says firmly.

"I don't have anyone to talk to," You respond harshly.

"I'll send someone to keep you company," he responds easily, like placating a child. But you don't miss his hands clench and unclench.

"I want to go outside," You answer, and you hate how your voice pitches into a whine, a plea, "I want fresh air."

He pauses, studying you, "I'll figure something out."

"Why are you doing this?" You finally ask, tears pricking your eyes. You don't want to cry, don't want to show him any weakness, but you're so tired and he's the first person you've talked to in ages. "I'm not anyone special. You don't gain anything by keeping me here. Please. Please, I wanna go home."

He tenses, then steps towards you steadily. You flinch when he stops just in front of you, turning and ducking your head. He takes your chin in his hand and guides your face back up, carefully wiping the tears that drip down your cheeks.

"You are special. More than you could know," he says quietly, like it's a secret. He says your name softly, like it's important, "You're going to stay here."

"I don't want to," You choke out between tears. He just doesn't acknowledge it, just keeps soaking up your cries with the pads of his glove.

You stay like that until your tears dry up and your body feels shaky. He exhales softly and tilts his head down, resting his helmet against your forehead. You would be eye to eye, you realize, if not for the mask.

"You're going to stay here," he repeats gently.

"Why?" You ask, voice weak.

He pulls back, his hand hesitating against your face before reaching for his helmet. He removes it with a practiced motion, and your whole world freezes.

Your breath catches in your lungs and your heart screams JasonJasonJason.

He doesn't try to explain. You don't have the words to ask. "You're going to stay here," he tells you again, voice low and careful.

"But-" You start, eyes darting over his face, the 'J' branded into his cheek.

He says your name, demanding and firm, "You're staying."

You swallow the rest of your words, and he nods in approval, "I'll get you what you asked for, okay?"

The helmet is back on before you even finished your bewildered nod, gaze locked on him. "Good," he murmurs, voice unrecognizable behind the mask. He's moving away, walking towards the door, leaving you.

You grab his arm, panicked, "Wait–"

He pulls your hand from his arm gently, "I'll come back."

"You haven't explained anything–" You try again, desperate and confused.

"You don't need to understand anything. You just need to stay here, tell me what you want, and let me take care of everything else, alright?" The Arkham Knight– Jason tells you.

You nod weakly, letting your hand drop back to your side.

"Good. Get some sleep," his voice sounds empty through the modulator.

"Will you come back tomorrow?" You ask, voice breaking.

He wavers by the door, "I come back everyday," he admits eventually and sees himself out the door of your prison.

You all but stumble to the plush couch and collapse as the door locks behind him. Jason is alive. Jason kidnapped you. Jason's held you in this luxury apartment for weeks. Jason left you jewels worth more than your entire savings account. Jason is alive. Jason visits you every night. Jason is alive.

Jason is alive. But you're still trapped. Still stuck in a cage with no explanation why and no matter how pretty it is, he's still locked you in here. But it's Jason. Jason wouldn't hurt you. He has to have a good reason.

The thought haunts you until you drift off, drawn to sleep by the soft velvet against your skin. You miss it, when the door cracks open again, and a down blanket is drawn over your body. You don't even twitch, when scarred hands start to trace a familiar path over your face.

Part Two

#arkham knight x reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd #x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #ak!jason todd x reader

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raven-dor · 2 months

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come back to me

In which gwayne hightower leaves his wife asleep before the battle, and she worries over his return

PAIRING: gwayne hightower x reader, alicent hightower x PLATONIC!reader, rhaenyra targaryen x PLATONIC!reader

WARNINGS: allusions to nsfw, angst, old friends, hurt/comfort, arguing (not actual arguing, just reader letting out her worry), fluffy ending

WORD COUNT: 2,994

Her emerald green dress flowed with the wind as she stood on their shared balcony, staring at the town below. He always admired her from afar, she was angelic, Gwayne had come to realize over the years. He walked behind her, his arms snaking around her waist, a gentle touch that spoke volumes as to how much he treasured her. “Come to bed, my love.”

She hummed, leaning her head back into his chest. “If I come to bed, this night will end, and that will mean you are leaving.” She shook her head, her resistance palpable in the air. “So I will not.”

He smiled, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “Will you deny your lord husband the pleasure of your company before he goes into battle?”

She laughed, twisting in his hold. “Is this a request or a demand?”

“It is a plea.” He leaned down, inches away from her lips. “I do not wish to leave on bad terms. This battle will be one for the histories.” He shivered, pulling her closer. “Indulge me.”

She leaned forward, cruelly teasing him. Quickly, she pulled back, escaping his hold easily. She walked past him, smirking. “If we must.”

He grabbed her wrist, spinning her back to him. She gasped, her knees weakening under his piercing gaze. Gwayne had always had a hold on her, even long before they were promised to each other, and she was just the Dowager Queen’s childhood friend. He was a good man; he always had been. “You know I would never force myself on you, my lady. But I must confess…” He leaned down, whispering. “If I do not kiss you, I will surely die.”

She giggled, reaching for his lips. “We cannot have that, can we?”

He collided her lips with his, groaning. “My darling girl…”

“Take me to bed, Gwayne.” She murmured, linking her lips with his once more. “Please.”

“Whatever you wish, my love.” He grabbed her thighs, wrapping her legs around him with ease. “Whatever you wish.”

The sun peaked through their wide-open curtains, stirring her from her otherwise peaceful sleep. She rolled over, reaching out for her husband. Her reach came up empty, his side of the bed still warm. She gasped, realizing what he had done. She sat up quickly, calling for her maid. “Help me dress.”

The young girl nodded. “Which dress would you-”

“It does not matter!” She snapped. “I am sorry, truly. Any dress, just do it quickly.”

The maid threw on her frock, a simple green velvet slip that she typically wore when exploring the woods surrounding Old Town. Smiling gratefully, she raced through the halls, not caring for the looks that followed her. The doors to the courtyard burst open, and she scanned quickly for her husband. The Dowager Queen stood alone in the center, staring at the gate. Gathering herself, she approached, curtsying. “My Queen.”

Alicent smiled lightly. “No need for such formalities. We were once friends, Y/N.”

She ignored the request. “Has your brother-”

The queen nodded knowingly. “He just left, I’m afraid.” She put a comforting hand on her sister-in-law’s shoulder. “He did not want to wake you.”

“I-” Tears began to well, and she coughed. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Y/N, wait!”

She had already dashed up the stairs, her tears now fully streaming down her cheeks.

It had been over a month before she’d received word that the battle was over and the surviving soldiers would be returning home. In that month, not one letter from Gwayne had graced her room or, more accurately, her cell. The Red Keep was a prison now, though if Gwayne came back, she would not tell him. He loved his family dearly, especially his sister and learning of his wife’s distaste for them would surely cause a rift.

She closed her eyes, trying to remember what had only been twenty years ago, when she, Alicent, and Rhaenyra would sit in the gardens, jesting about tutors and gossiping about knights of the realm. When Alicent left to attend to her father, Rhaenyra would look over at Y/N, teasing her about her budding crush on Alicent’s brother.

She had not seen Rhaenyra in years. Now, her nephew by law had usurped her throne, and there was nothing Y/N could do but watch. She had no dragon, no power of her own. Which she had been contempt of before her husband had been dragged into this whole mess. Thanks to her nephew, he might never return to her. All she could do now was count down the days until the horns blew, and she stood in the courtyard, raking over the faces in the crowd until she found Gwaynes.

A knock rang through her chambers, her guard's voice coming through the door. “My lady, the Dowager Queen, would like to see you.”

She sighed, taking a deep breath. “I will be out in a moment.”

Alicent rarely called for her anymore. The last time had been when Viserys had died, a letter arrived to Old Town not for her brother, the Lord Paramount, but for you. For you to come.

You had not; after all, you had just given birth to your second child, and you were too frail to walk. Gwayne had refused to even let you entertain the notion, insisting that your health came before his sister, even if she was the queen.

Her chamber doors were wide open, and Alicent sat at her table, tea and two glasses in front of her. The Queen smiled, waving away her servants and guard. “Leave us.”

“But my lady…”

“My sister-in-law is no threat, Sir Rickard.” The older man nodded, ushering the servants out of her chambers and closing the doors soundly behind him. “Are you well?”

“As well as I can be, my lady.” Y/N smiled. “And yourself?”

“As well as one can be, I suppose.” The two former friends sat in silence, sipping their tea. The fire crackled behind them, and Y/N began to wonder what exact moment had caused a rift in their friendship.

“I must tell you something.” Alicent looked torn like she was fighting herself to stay silent. “You must not tell anyone, not even my brother.”

“Of course.” She nodded quickly. “Of course, Alicent.”

“I made a mistake.” Her face was ghostly white. “Aegon–” She gasped, a sob wrecking through her body. Y/N froze, unsure of what to do. “He was never supposed to be king. I misunderstood.”

“Misunderstood?”

“Viserys, he was spouting nonsense about Aegon the Conquerer, and I thought-” She scoffed. “I misunderstood.”

Y/N sat back in her chair, staring at the fire. “You mean to tell me that this entire war started because of a misunderstanding?” Alicent remained silent. “Alicent, you must tell Rhaenyra. Before it’s too late.”

The queen laughed. “It’s already too late. Her son is dead; my grandson was viciously murdered in his own bed. She would not see me. You remember how stubborn she is.”

Y/N knelt in front of Alicent, taking her hands in hers. “Alicent, for the good of the realm, you must meet with Rhaenyra and come to an agreement. Atrocities have been dealt by both sides, but if you tell her this…” She shivered. “It would save thousands. It would save your brother, Helaena, your…guard.” She tightened her hold on her old friend's hands. “Please.”

“I-” She nodded, not trusting her voice to stay collected. Y/N stood, dusting off her dress and sitting back down.

“Have you heard any word of your brother?”

“None.” It was Alicent’s turn to hold her hand. “He will return to you, I am sure. He is a great knight.”

She nodded. “He is; that is what worries me.”

“What do you mean?”

“He would never leave his men behind. Even if that meant…” She trailed off, sighing. “You understand.”

Alicent nodded, her heart at the bottom of her stomach. Her old friend had always been melancholy since childhood. Her parents had perished in a horrible accident, and she had been a ward of the crown ever since. She could not bear to be the cause of her further grief.

“How are the children?”

“Well. Daeron writes that Arthur is practically as talented at the sword as he. Emma is still just a babe, but she grows larger by the day.” She murmured. “As far as I’ve heard.”

“You will be back with them soon; I promise you that.” Alicent smiled. “I understand what it is like to miss a child.”

Y/N nodded, but she knew Alicent could never understand. How could she? She had never been forced to leave her children to come and serve a usurper of a king.

The horns had blown midday only two days later. Y/N’s worry for her husband had turned into anger over the past months, anger that he did not say goodbye to her before he went off to war. She’d been sitting on her balcony when the deep sound blared through the city, rousing her out of her stupor. Even if she was angry with her husband, that did not mean her heart did not yearn to be in his arms, to be kissed like it was the last moment they would ever live. Her dress billowed behind her as she ran, again not bothering to acknowledge the prying eyes that followed. She slowed, and two guards opened the doors slowly, slower than she would have liked.

Walking down the staircase gracefully, she tried to keep her composure when she could not find Gwayne in the crowd below. Her heart dropped, and she clenched her fists, nausea bubbling in her stomach. She was too young to be a widow, too young to raise two children on her own, too young to-

“My lady.” She turned around, almost sobbing at the sight. There stood her lord husband, in all his glory. His hair was dirty, his skin broken, but all Y/N saw was her love before her and alive.

She bowed, making no movement to embrace him.

“Lord Husband. I am most grateful for your return.”

His eyebrows raised, a smirk gracing his delicate face. “How formal of you, my dear.”

She huffed, turning on her heels and walking back into the castle. Gwayne followed behind swiftly, entirely confused as to why he did not have her in his arms. They walked in silence to their chambers, servants stilling at the sight of Gwayne. “Leave us.” He ordered, not sparing a second glance. They scurried out, the doors shutting loudly.

He stared at her curiously. “My Love-”

“Let me dress your wounds.” She sighed, walking over to their wardrobe. “It seems you have many.”

He nodded but made no movement to sit or remove his armour. “Darling-”

“Turn for me, my lord. I need to remove your armour.”

He nodded once more, turning as requested. The tension was palpable, but neither of them made any effort to break it. She quickly removed his armour, setting it delicately on the table. “Sit.”

She stood in front of him, leaning down to dress his wounds. His hands ached to reach out and pull her into his lap, but he made no effort; he simply stared at her. “Was the battle difficult?”

He nodded, hissing as she disinfected a cut. She mumbled apologies. “It was quite the scene. A dragon’s fight is something I hope you never witness.” Y/N simply hummed, concentrating on the cut. “Did you fare well while I was away?”

She tensed, nodding quickly. “As well as one can do when their husband leaves without a word.”

Ah. So that is why she had not jumped into his arms when he arrived. Gwayne had wondered why he had not been making his wife sigh and gasp from his tender touch. “I thought it was best if-”

“You thought wrong.” She murmured, walking over to the bowl of clean water. He couldn’t fight it anymore, reaching out to grab her hips. She gasped but made no effort to look down.

“Please forgive me.” He tightened his hold, dropping his head against her stomach. “I did not want to wake you.”

“So I was told.” He looked up, and she sighed. “Your sister.”

“You looked so peaceful; I did not wish to see you cry.”

She laughed humourlessly. “Who said I would waste any tears on you?”

He sat back, clutching his chest playfully. “You wound me, wife.”

She scoffed, squirming in his hold. “You cannot charm me into forgiving you.”

“I made no such claim.”

“Yes, well.” She sighed, pulling out of his arms and rinsing the rag. “You thought it. Of that, I am sure.”

He smiled. Her spirit had always drawn him in. From the first day they had met, she had not withered at the sight of a lord. She held her ground, staying as strong as she was. “Withering is for flowers,” she told him. “I am no flower.” He laughed, placing a daisy behind her ear. “No. But you are as pretty as one.” That had made her blush. How he wished they could go back to then when everything was much simpler. When the thought of dragon fire didn’t threaten their very lives, their children’s lives.

She stood back in front of him, but this time, he put his hands on her hips, pulling her into his lap. Her cheeks grew red, and she looked down at his neck, tending to a rather nasty bruise. “My love, please look at me.”

“I can’t look at you.” She shook her head defiantly. “I am angry at you.”

“Y/N-” He cupped her cheek with his hand, caressing it with his thumb.

“Don't!” She yelped like she’d been burned, jumping up. “You left me. I woke up, and you were gone. No note, no kiss goodbye. What if you had died?” She scoffed. “But no, ‘I looked too peaceful to wake.’ That is a horrid excuse. You’re a coward, Gwayne Hightower. A coward.”

Gwayne stood up, his eyebrows furrowed. “Now, wait just a moment-” She hit his chest, tears streaming down her face. “How could you? Do you know how worried sick I was? Do you?”

“Stop this.”

She shook her head, continuing to beat at his chest. “Don’t ever do-”

He grabbed her wrists delicately, stopping her. “Stop this madness.” His voice was gentle, not a trace of anger or annoyance found.

She sobbed. “You mongral. Let me-”

“I understand that you are upset, my darling. But surely you realize this is not the solution.” He lowered his head, their lips inches apart. “I wanted to remember my happy girl. No tears.”

“I wouldn’t have cried.” She murmured, still fighting against his hold.

“As opposed to what you are doing now?”

She glared at his chest. “You are without a doubt the most-” Releasing one of her wrists, he brought his hand to her chin, raising her head gently. When she still refused to look at him, he leaned down, kissing her nose, cheeks, and forehead until she finally gave in to his love.

“I have to admit, I was rather disappointed at the reception I received.”

“If only you had left a note.” She mumbled. “Never do that to me again. Promise me, Gwayne.”

He nodded, kissing each knuckle gently. “I swear to you.”

She wanted to take him to bed, admire his form, and thank the gods old and new that he was with her and not dead on a battlefield, but the reality was he still had many cuts that needed to be tended to, and he desperately needed get the stench of battle off his skin.

“You need a bath.”

“Are you insinuating that I smell?” Gwayne tilted his head, a jesting look on his face. She nodded, giggling.

“Terribly.”

He groaned, letting her out of his hold. “Very well.”

Y/N couldn’t help but wince as she watched him peeled off his shirt. “Let me help you.”

“I can do it-” She glared, and he gave in immediately. “Fine, fine.”

She nodded, carefully untying the top before lifting his shirt. Her cheeks grew bright red, his torso still as muscular as the day they were married. Throwing his shirt on the ground, her breath caught. His eyes were piercing hers once more, drawing her in. She smiled, kissing a cut on his chest gently. “Does this hurt?”

It was his turn for his breath to catch. He shook his head, words failing. Another cut, another bruise; she followed the trail until it stopped at a cut on his lower lip.

“My noble boy.” She kissed his lip lightly, sending shivers down the brave knight’s spine. This time, when he gave her that look, she couldn’t resist it. She placed her arms around his neck, pulling his lips down to hers. “I missed you so.”

He groaned, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him. “I’m so sorry, my darling. Please forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive. I was acting a fool.” She sighed as he nipped down her neck. “Gwayne, the bath…”

“I promise you I will bathe, but if I do not have you this instant, I will simply combust.”

They stumbled over to the door, locking it haphazardly. “Take me to bed.”

“I will, I will, but first…” He turned her around, undoing her laces quickly. He groaned. “Good god, woman, how many laces can a dress have?”

She laughed, throwing her head back. “Woman?”

“Forgive me. My lady, light of my life, darling, love-”

Now she was fully cackling, and turned around, smothering his face his affection. “Let us retire, please.”

He nodded, the laces finally coming undone. She stumbled backward, drawing him in with her spell. He tapped his chin, tilting his head. “I was about to do something.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I believe, lord husband, you were about to ravish me.”

He grinned, stalking towards her. “Thank you, my lady, for reminding me.”

#game of thrones #house of the dragon #team black #team green #alicent hightower #gwayne hightower #gwayne hightower x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #x reader #fanfiction #got fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fluff #hotd #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #literature

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yandere-writer-momo · 2 months

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Yandere Batman Stories:

Seed of Doubt

Yandere Two Face/ Harvey Dent x Fem Singer Reader

Sweaty palms grasped the cold metal of the microphone. (Your name) swore she could feel her heart slam its fists into her ribcage in an attempt to flee from its prison. There was not a doubt in her mind that she was filled to the brim with anxiety. It’s not often a singer of her stature is to perform in front of so many criminals.

(Your name) thanked the stars that the bright lights blinded her so she wouldn’t have to see the lecherous gazes they sent her way. She felt like a lamb to the slaughter. A helpless creature that now lay in the maws of a starving pack of wolves, ready to be torn apart at any moment…

And although she wished for nothing more than to melt in a puddle right there and then, she must perform… because he was watching.

Deep breath in… and exhale. She could do this… she had to.

(Your name) gave a flirtatious smile to the crowd before she began to sing. Her voice was hauntingly sweet like the lure of a siren. The melody easily enraptured the crooks who all sat on the edges of their seats to listen to her.

And from the balcony above, a certain mafia boss smiled. He was so happy his songbird had begun to sing once more. It’s been so many years since he had heard that bewitching voice… but now he had the power to protect her.

Two Face had the resources to keep her by his side for all of eternity now. And he hoped she would love her gilded cage. It’s where a pretty bird like her belonged anyways.

He ran the pad of his thumb over the scratched up side of his signature coin. He was so happy fate had easily agreed to allow his beloved to return to his side once more…

(Your name)’s hands gripped the edge of her vanity to the point her knuckles turned white.She swore she felt her heart beat in her ears from the adrenaline that coursed through her. The cheers and whistles made her even more eager to flee and she was thankful another performer quickly ushered her away.

(Your name) glanced at her direction, her wild eyes studied the disheveled young woman before her. (Your name)’s face was still flushed a shade of cherry red and her hair was in disarray. She was the definition of a hot mess and it didn’t help that she knew her old beau had been the one to book her at this sordid venue. Her beloved Harvey Dent… no. He went by Two Face now. Her gentle lover was no more… and it would be best for her to accept that.

(Your name) traced her fingers over her lips in thought. How many years had it been since she’s last seen him? Three? Maybe even four? She couldn’t remember since the days have all melted together from how busy she’s been ever since her career had taken off…

“You still look as beautiful as the day I last saw you, my sonnet.” (Your name) jumped at the raspy voice that echoed in her dressing room. Her eyes filled with fear as she turned to see the very man that haunted her nightmares.

“H-Harvey-“ (your name) gasped when the man pinned her against the dresser. She quickly tried to turn away from him, but he wasn’t having any of it.

(Your name) felt fear consume her when he grabbed her chin and tilted her head up to look at him. Those grotesque scars now in close view as the singular, bloodshot eye scanned her face.

“Ah, it seems this appearance of mine frightens even you, my dear.” He clicked his tongue before he pressed his nose against hers. Their breaths mingled while his eyes became half lidded. “Of course you can’t love a freak like me-“

Harvey was shocked when (your name) closed the distance between their lips with a gentle kiss. She… she wasn’t afraid? Could it be that she still loved him?

(Your name) rested her forehead on his right shoulder to try to hide how terrified she was. She was hopeful that he wouldn’t harm her… that she could reason with him to just pay her her dues-

(Your name) gasped when she was suddenly pulled into a tight hug that could rival the coils of an anaconda.

“I knew you still loved me… that you love us.” (Your name) felt her blood run cold at the sudden voice change. Us? Had Harvey actually gone insane like the papers had stated? “Now you can stay with us, just like you promised all those years ago.”

“Harvey? Please let me g-“ (your name) was suddenly jerked to now be in front of him once more. His face now twisted in a scowl.

“Harvey? I’m not Harvey, dollface. And like hell I’ll let you leave again. Tell you what, how about we flip a coin for it?” Harvey reached into his breast pocket and held up a coin. “Heads, I’ll pay you and let you carry on with your idyllic life. But if it’s tails, you become my fiancée once more and marry me.”

(Your name) bit her lip. It’s not like she had much of a choice…

“Okay.” (Your name) gulped at the wicked gleam in his eyes. Her fate had been sealed the moment that coin flipped in the air… how was she to know that the scratched side had been on a spree today? That her chances of escape had been slim to none? A hopeful fool she was…

(Your name) felt her heart drop when Harvey showed her the scratched up side of the coin. His eyes lit up in delight as his lips peppered her face with featherlight kisses.

“Ah… there wasn’t a seed of doubt that fate would have us reunite. I’m sure you’ll love your new home, it’s taken me years to build the perfect gilded cage for you, my songbird.”

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hmusunoo · 2 months

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𝐓𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐎𝐄 - 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍

desc. │ɪᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴜɴᴀɴɪᴍᴏᴜꜱ ᴅᴇᴄɪꜱɪᴏɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʙᴀʟʟᴇʀɪɴᴀ ᴘʀᴏᴅɪɢʏ ʏ/ɴ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴛᴏᴏ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴋ ꜱᴜɴɢʜᴏᴏɴ. ɪᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴏʙᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʟᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴊᴜᴅɢᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴀᴛ ꜱᴄʜᴏᴏʟ ᴏʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛꜱ ʜᴀᴅ ʜᴀᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴜɴɢʜᴏᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏᴏᴅ ꜰᴏʀ. ʙᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴅɴ’ᴛ ᴄᴀʀᴇ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴀᴛ. ɴᴏᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ʙɪᴛ ᴏꜰ ɪᴛ ᴀᴛ ᴀʟʟ.

pairings. │ ʙᴀᴅ ʙᴏʏ!ꜱᴜɴɢʜᴏᴏɴ x ɢᴏᴏᴅ ɢɪʀʟ ʙᴀʟʟᴇʀɪɴᴀ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

warnings. │ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ (ʏᴇꜱ…ɪ’ᴍ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʀʏ), ʜᴀɴᴅᴊᴏʙ, ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴄᴀᴜɢʜᴛ, ꜰᴏʀʙɪᴅᴅᴇɴ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇ, ᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴛᴏxɪᴄ ᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛꜱ.

It was a unanimous decision that ballerina prodigy y/n was too good for someone like Park sunghoon. It was obvious in the glaring judgmental stares that followed them around at school or in the way that your parents had hated sunghoon and everything he stood for. but you didn’t care about any of that. Not one bit of it at all. They didn’t know Sunghoon like you did, they didn’t know that sunghoon was caring, he was sweet, he was romantic.

Sunghoon would do anything for you and you him. Including sneaking him into your house in the middle of the night while your parents slept only a few doors down.

Your parents hated Sunghoon, loathed him. Your father had called him filth the first time you brought him around to meet them. They had forbade you from seeing him, they didn’t like his motorcycle or his down low attitude.

They thought of him as a lowlife nothing. Sunghoon was far from a lowlife, and just because he didn’t grow up rich or with parents that gave him everything didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of taking care of you, or loving of you.

Trying to convince your parents that was an impossible task. One you had eventually gave up on. You continued to see Sunghoon not allowing them to take control of your life. You may be a ballerina but you aren’t fragile. You could take care of yourself and you knew what you wanted, and what you wanted was Sunghoon.

Your phone was ringing. The constant buzz awaking you from your sleep. You snaked your hand underneath your pillow haphazardly searching for your phone. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room glancing over at the alarm clock that sat on your bedside table, it read 1:26am. Glancing at your phone you see Sunghoon’s name flashing across the screen. In a daze you answered you voice horse with sleep.

“Hoon?” You whispered into the phone “It’s 1am”

“I’m outside” There was a chatter to his teeth, probably due to the frigid cold of the january night. You hurried out of bed, hair disheveled in a tank top and frilly shorts to your window peering outside to see a shivering sunghoon.

You opened your window “Balcony!” You whisper shouted at him. Signaling him to meet you at the balcony. He nodded tucking his hands into his pockets and making his way to the balcony that connected to your room. You opened the sliding doors to your balcony being extra careful at being quiet.

You would never hear the end of it if your parents were to catch Sunghoon sneaking into your house in the middle of the night. They would be livid, they would ground you forever. Even at the grown age of twenty-one it seemed you was still a prisoner to your parents rules while in their house and while they paid for your ballet classes.

Sunghoon climbed the balcony as quiet as he could, letting out a soft grunt when he finally reached the railing, jumping over and landing on your balcony swiftly like the goddamn Spider-man.

"Ok Peter Parker" You teased at Sunghoon, flashing him a cheesy smile.

"I'f I'm Peter Parker that would make you my Mary Jane" His arms wrapped around your waist bringing you into him. He buried his face into your hair and inhaled. "You smell good" He mumbled as you giggled at his sweetness.

"I'm about to freeze to death if we don't go inside you" You had began to slightly shiver due to the cold. Sunghoon picked you up swiftly causing a small yelp to escape your lips.

"Park Sunghoon!" You giggled "put me down you barbarian" He opened the door to the balcony smoothly and closed it just as smoothly.

A sharp sting to your butt had you yelping in surprise as Sunghoon landed a slap to your behind. He tosses you onto your plush bed landing amongst the pillows and fluffy duvet that had adorn your bed.

Sunghoon made a show of crawling over to you slowly, running his hands up your legs and finally to your hips. "I love making men crawl" You teased looking up at Sunhoon as he hovered over you. His laugh rang through the room, you flinched slightly at the sound, hoping and praying that your parents were sleeping too deeply to hear it.

"Only for you baby" Sunghoon said, the smirk on his face giving. away all his intentions for tonight. He landed a soft kiss to your collarbone and another to the nape of your neck, making his way up until he reached your face. He. kissed your cheek softly before letting out a huff of air and plopping down beside you on the bed beside you.

"What did you do today?" he asked you nonchalantly. You had no interest in small talk. You hadn't seen Sunghoon in three days you have missed him, badly.

"Practiced" You mumbled, rolling over onto his body. You straddled his lap making your own way over his face and neck with your lips. Peppering kisses over his cheeks and down his neck. "Yeah?" He asked a breathy-ness to his voice that had further fueled your need to please him. "And then what?"

"Yeah" You whispered "and then I went shopping for new ballet flats" Your hands traveled down Sunghoon's zipper slowly bringing it down to tuck your hand in, freeing his hard cock from the confines of his jeans.

Sunghoon let out a small hiss when your hand made contact with his length. Long and heavy in your nimble hand you fisted him, moving your wrist up and down. "Did you find the fuck- the right flats baby?" Sunghoon wheezed out breathing turning heavier as your small hand moved up and down on his length, slowly at first.

"Mhm" You mumbled looking up at Sunghoon meeting his wild eyes as they frantically looked at you, dark with desire. Sunghoon licked his lips before looking down at your hand as it started moving with more speed. Up and down. "They're white with tiny little lace flowers on the top."

"Just like that sweetheart" Sunghoon groaned out forgetting all topic of conversation, throwing his head back against your soft pillows. "That feels so fucking good"

"Just like this?" You asked quickening the speed of your hand.

Sunghoon lifted his head up slightly too look at you, his eyes flicking from your face to your hand that was tightly wrapped around his cock then to your breasts that sat perfectly perky in your little pink tank top that he loved so much. He licked his lips meeting your eyes before looking down at you boobs once again.

"You want me to use them hoon?" You said not letting up on the speed of your hand.

Sunghoon's rapid nod akin to his suppressed groan was all the confirmation you needed. Reaching for the thin straps of your tank top you yanked them down each arm until your chest was on full display to his hungry eyes. "Fuck yes" Sunghoon moaned "You're so fucking hot"

His compliments only served as fuel to your ever growing need to please him. Your hand left his cock to squish your breast together over his cock barring them between, the head poking out inviting you to bend your head down kissing it softly.

You began moving your breast up and down on his cock, spitting on them to make your movements that much easier.

"Holy f-fuck" Sunghoon hissed out, all worries of your parents hearing you fleeing. His moans turned slightly high pitched as you continued your movements on him. His hands found his way to your face, cupping the apples of your cheeks.

"you're beautiful" He whispered in a daze. His thumb came up to your lips begging for you to open your mouth and suck on it.

You continued your movements bringing Sunghoon closer and closer to his end. "I'm almost there" Sunghoon said in a rush chest heaving.

The sudden bang of a door swinging open knocked you backwards, your hands scrambling to cover your chest, a feeble attempt indeed.

"What the fuck is going on in here?" The boom of your father's voice shook you to your core. The terror of what he just walked in on leaving you speechless. You scrambled to find yourself in the heap of mortification of the moment.

Sunghoon was up on his feet his cock back in his pants and his zipper zipped back up. Your shaking hands reached for you tank top straps yanking them up your arms.

"W-why didn't you knock?" You shrieked, coming face to face with the red angry face of your father and the disgusted look on your mother's.

Your father's attention was on Sunghoon now. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest. Your father moved in a flash yanking Sunghoon by his jacket. "What the fuck are you doing in my house in the middle of the night, you filth!"

Sunghoon's face was red from embarrassment or anger you truly didn't know. Probably both.

"Get off him!" You yelled grabbing at your Father's arm. Your dad yanked his hand back, pushing you to the ground in attempt at pushing you off of him. You looked back at your mom in bewilderment, but she just sat there emotionless not looking you in the eye.

"Don't fucking touch her" Sunghoon hissed out at your Father, his face red definitely from anger.

"Don't tell me what to do in my own house you punk" My father yanked at Sunghoon again before pushing him towards the balcony door. "Get out! Go the way you came. You're never to see my daughter again or you'll regret it."

Sunghoon turned around to look at your father a calmness on his face that had only scared me rather then comfort me.

"That won't be happening sir." Your Father let out a scoff "I love her, and nothing you say will keep me away from her."

Your father let out a full body laugh before nodding his head. "Ok" He said surprising every bone in my body, that quickly vanished in an instant as soon as the next few words left his mouth.

"If you don't stop seeing this scum, I will pull your inheritance and the funding for your ballet classes. You will no longer be a dancer. Do I make myself clear?"

A sob left me at this ultimatum. Your heart cracking in more ways the one. "Dad" You said weekly "Plea-"

"No." Your father stated firmly. "Do I make myself clear?"

without giving you time to respond he turned back to Sunghoon who sat there looking almost as broken as you, his eyes only on you not even your father.

"Get out" Your father said again, and this time Sunghoon had listened. Backing out the door, his gaze still on you before he jumped over the railing making his way down.

Through your sobs you looked at your dad with disgust written all over your face, and with the sharpest tongue and most poisonous venom you could muster you yelled "I hate you."

A sharp slap was heard not even a second later, the sting from your father's hand felt like it would last forever. A gasp was sounded before your mother's voice was heard over your cries "Y/d/n!" She shouted.

"Do not speak to me that way" Your father spit out "You act like a whore you'll get treated like one. If you want to continue to dance you will no longer be seeing that boy"

Sobs racked your entire as your father stormed out of the room in a fleet of anger. You your mother were left alone. You looked up at her with blurry eyes and a shattered heart.

"Mom" You croaked out only to be met with the shake of her head and a sigh before leaving the room after your father.

At ballet class you could forget about most things in life that had left you troubled. The sound of the music and the way your body had reacted to it had left your mind empty. You could only think of the simple things in life. The easy things. It was simple that you loved ballet. At one point in your life you would have given anything to dance, it was your striving force in life.

It kept you going, it was the most important thing to you no matter what. It left you wondering when exactly all that had changed, because here you were doing something you know without a doubt your sixteen yourself would be absolutely mortified to see.

You were giving it up. You were giving up your number one passion in life. The one thing you couldn't live without. Or you thought. Because it seemed you had found something else worth living for. Someone else.

Sunghoon had meant too much to you, and you'd be damned if you'd let a love like his go.

Some people would call you absolutely foolish for making this decision but you didn't care. You would choose Sunghoon in every single lifetime.

After Dance had wrapped up you felt like you had made peace with your decision, preparing yourself for the fight that would be inevitably happening when you got home and informed your parents of your rebellious decision to stay with Sunghoon and give up dance.

You left the dance class building with your duffel bag slung over shoulder and your head held high. What you didn't expect to see upon leaving the double doors was Sunghoon casually leaning against his motorcycle, hands in his pockets looking just as ethereal as he always did.

"Sunghoon!" You said rushing to him, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him tight. "What are doing here?" You said smiling up at him.

He smile was small, the look on his face slightly grim. It had made your stomach drop in an uneasiness you didn't like at all.

"What's wrong?" You asked with urgency. His arms wound tighter around your frame holding you impossibly close to him.

"Should we go somewhere?" You asked pulling away to hop on to the back of his motorcycle like you had a million and one times before. Before you could reach his motorcycle Sunghoon was pulling on your arm lightly.

"What's that bruise on your face" His voice was stern, a tone you were not used to hearing from him. "It...it was my father" You said horsely "But, it's ok." You rushed out quickly. "I'm giving up dance, I'm telling him today"

The smile was back beaming up at Sunghoon with a lovesick look on your face.

"What?" Sunghoon spit on "Y/n you can't do that"

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion at his words. You had thought he would be happy to hear this. You and him would be able to be together without all the fighting from your dad since he would no longer be able to hold the funding for dancing over your head.

Sunghoon's reaction was the exact opposite of what you were expecting it to be.

"What?" The confusion was evident on your face "I thought- I thought you would be happy about this?"

"You thought that I would happy that your'e giving up the best thing in your life up for me? Your god given talent. No. I cant let you" Your heart had felt heavy at his words, the reality of what was happening sinking in.

"Sunghoon..he's going to take my funding away anyway." You said looking up at him. He averted his gaze from you, looking down at the floor. "We can't keep it a secret again he's going to be on me so much harder now..."

"We're not keeping it a secret Y/n" Sunghoon's voice was weak and frail sounding. It was the most small I had ever heard him speak.

"I think.." He trailed off his eyes still not meeting yours no matter how much you silently pleaded for them to. "I think we should stop seeing each other Y/n."

"No" You said weakly "No, no forget about my-"

"It's not about that y/n" Sunghoon interrupted you with a sigh. "I can't let you give up dance ok? Not for me"

There was an ache so deep in your chest you felt like it was going to explode. The contents of your shattered heart to be on full display for everyone to witness.

"You're not 'letting me' I'm choosing to Sunghoon it's my choice." You fought back, your voice cracking breaking the smallest chance you had of seeming strong.

"You're only doing it for me y/n and I cant accept that. I won't be the reason you give up something you’re so amazing at." He took a deep breath grabbing onto your shaking hands bringing them to his lips and kissing them lightly.

"You once told me that dance was your world, that it was the one thing that had ever made you feel important. I would never forgive myself for being the source of that all coming to a stop." He let go of your hands, a glisten to his eyes that you had never seen from him before. It had shaken you to your core.

"Please" You whispered "pl-"

"I love you." Sunghoon said sternly. "Go be the greatest ballet dancer this world has ever seen ok?"

He left a single kiss to your temple, not allowing you to say another word before he was getting back onto his motorcycle. Helmet in his hand he says "Take care of yourself y/n"

The tears continued to fall down your face as you watched him speed off down the street cursing yourself for not fighting harder, for allowing his words to render you motionless.

The next few weeks had felt like a fever dream, an emotionless blur you were a robot of yourself. Eating, sleeping and speaking only when necessary.

You were getting ready for one of the biggest recitals of your career. A lot of important people were coming to watch you dance. Normally you'd be excited, nervous but ready. Now you felt shallow. You didn't care who was going to be there you didn't care that this was one of the most highly anticipated recitals for most of the dance world. In truth you just wanted to get it over with.

The night of the recital was becoming a blur. Your mother and father were there in the crowd awaiting your grand entrance. Your makeup was down flawlessly, you hair in a slick by high bun and your corset top tight to your chest.

You should feel beautiful, radiant even but all you could think about was how you didn’t want to do this. You didn’t want to get on stage and dance for all these people. You didn’t want the pressure and most certainly didn’t want hundreds of eyes watching you like a hawk only to judge your every move.

“You’re up” Your dance instructor said coming up behind you startling you from your thoughts. You nod your head at her readying yourself to get on stage.

The Music began, you ran out to center stage under the spot light moving your body in all the ways you were taught. The routine going off without a hitch. You start to feel yourself starting to enjoy it when all of a sudden a flash of certain someone’s face had made that all come crashing down.

Sunghoon was tucked into the very back of the theater but you wouldn’t dare miss his face. You could point him out in a room full of a million people. He sat there eyes ablaze as he watched you dance. His presence had overwhelmed you, it had distracted you. One wrong leap into the air and you were hurriedly down hitting the floor hard with a big thump, your head slamming into the floor boards below you leaving you in a daze. Your body was frigid, the mortification of falling in front of all these people seeping in like a chill to your bones.

You would never live this down. Your father would be furious and you might as well kiss your chances with all these reps goodbye.

You had fell. During a simple leap you had let yourself slip. It had felt like a punch to the gut when your instructor had ran out to the stage, shouting for them to close the curtains cutting off all visibility of you and your utter humiliation.

“Y/n?!” A frantic voice was heard from the crowd. A deep, husky voice you had loved. It was Sunghoon, Sunghoon was here and you weren’t imaging it. He had come to watch you on the most important night of your life and you had ruined it.

You head was spinning and your vision blurry. You heard frantic shouting from voices you didn’t know and some that sounded familiar but you couldn’t quit place them.

Then suddenly all you could see was darkness.

The sound of beeping and thin white walls was what you had awoken to much later on. Your head was groggy and your mind a jumbled mess of itself.

You knew what happened i mean how could you forget but you didn’t know how you had ended up here. The conclusion that you had passed out had been easy to come to after a few minutes of thinking about it.

You looked around your room, it was empty save for some clothing items strewn about that indicated that people had been in here with you.

The sound of muffled speaking just outside the door also a clear indication that someone was here with you. Probably your parents. But foolishly enough you couldn’t help the small amount of hope that Sunghoon had come. He had shouted for you at theater, that you were sure of. You just didn’t know if he’d come here, where your family most likely occupied. In truth he was the only person you actually wanted to see.

“Hello?” You said hoarsely the words not coming out loud enough to penetrate the door and be heard outside. So instead you pressed the nurses button notifying them that you were awake. Within a minute or two a nurse rushed in with your mom quick on her heels.

“You’re awake!” Your Mother wailed grabbing your hand as the nurse started to inspect you a bit closer. “How do you feel?”

“Ok” You said voice still hoarse and scratchy. You looked around the room, your eyes landing on a black leather jacket that you knew all too well.

“Sunghoon” you said in a whisper looking up at your mom with wide eyes gaging her reaction.

“He’s here sweetheart” Your Mother said rubbing your hand with her palm. “He came..He’s just outside-“

“Tell him to come in” You said quickly, taking your mom aback a bit. “Please” You added on.

Your mother nodded getting up from her spot besides you. She reached the door hand on the handle before turning around to look at you. “Your father did not come” She said, a glum look on her face. “I’m sorry”

You nodded, the hurt from him not being here stung more than you expected but it was painfully obvious that your father was not going to change his mind. It was something you were going to have to accept no matter how much it hurt you.

A few minutes later the door opened revealing Sunghoon in his plan white tea and black jeans.

“Sunghoon” You didn’t know what else to say. The embarrassment from falling earlier creeping in on you.

“I’m sorry” He blurted out before you could say anything else. He sat next to you occupying the spot your mother was just in. “I’m so sorry Y/n” There was a crack to his voice you had never heard before, one that had surprised you.

“Why are you sorry?” You asked confusion laced in your words. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

He shook his head a tear falling from his eye. “I thought that letting you go was for the best. That being a dancer was the most important thing for you to do..and i’m sorry for making that decision for you. When i seen your head hit that floor today as hard as it did i had felt a pain i had never felt never. I fear i had never felt before.” He cupped my cheek lightly lifting my head to look at him. Tears fell down my cheeks, his thumb whipping them away in one swift motion.

“I love you, i’ll support you in whatever you want to do. I’ll get 4, 5, 6 jobs if i need to, to help you pay to keep dancing if that’s what you want. i don’t care. i just want to be with you.” This was a side of Sunghoon you had never seen before, a vulnerable side he hadn’t really ever shown anyone.

“You don’t have to beg” You teased “I love you too” You leaned you forehead on his “We’ll get through this i promise” You kissed him. It was soft and delicate and light and sweet and perfect. You didn’t know what was going to happen after this. You didn’t know how your dad would fair with this, or what kind of life you were going to live but all you knew was that it was going to be with Sunghoon, and that really was all you needed.

Guys. i’m literally so sorry. This was absolutely TRASH. It was going so good in the beginning and then it just spiraled down down down. Hopefully you give me another chance in the future lol.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐞, 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐞, 𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡, 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦, 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐲, 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬. ©𝐡𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐨𝐨

- @heeswif3y , @guapgoddees , @ramenoil l , @yunhoswrldddd , @starfallia , @woorcve , @onlyhyunjin , @iheartshopping , @nikiswifiee , @inayalamourr , @capri-cuntz , @littlemissana-0 , @immelissaaa , @winuvs s , @tinyteezer , @notevenheretbh1 , @st1llm0nster , @021894s , @awqken , @taeghi

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dabislittlemouse · 3 months

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“𝐈’𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞, 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐦𝐞…”

Part 3 | Dabi x fem!reader

CW: yandere themes, some mentions of noncon, gaslighting, manipulation, kidnapping, complicated feelings, stockholm syndrome, smut

SYNOPSIS: you are finally saved from the hands of your captor, who was now locked up, far away from you. But to this day, the memory of him still haunts you in your dreams, still so present in your life, still reminding you that you are his girl.

A/N: I apologise for the long wait everyone , now I’m finally free to write more (*^ω^*) Dabi is a fucking asshole in this one

Part 2 | REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED

A few days had passed since you read the letters, something that you definitely regretted doing. Burning the letters did nothing because the words written in it were still burning you from the inside.

When you were rescued, you remembered actually crying, for days even, to the point your eyes were puffy and red. You remember crying the moment heroes showed up and snatched you away from where Dabi was keeping you hidden. Endless tears rolled down your cheeks, normally people would say that you felt relieved and happy that you were finally escaping that nightmare, of course you’d cry.

But was that really it?

Were you crying because you were relieved to be rescued? Or because you were leaving him? Abandoning him.

“Y’know doll, I gotta admit it feels nice knowing I have someone with me who can’t abandon me. It feels relieving, knowing that you belong to me. Never had anything that belonged to me before” he told you one night, as you were both sitting in the balcony, him smoking while you were playing with his hair.

“Where would I even go? I’m basically a prisoner, I can’t run away and abandon you even if I tried” you replied calmly, not daring to put any sort of attitude in your tone. But luck was on your side, he was in a good mood that night.

Dabi chuckled. “I hate when you use that word, really. Almost reminds me of how much of a horrible man I am”

“Are you?” You raised an eyebrow, asking the obvious.

Dabi shook his head, turning towards you and leaning closer, almost touching your lips, blowing some smoke in you.

“What really matters is that you really love this horrible man in front of ya. And even if one day I let you go, you won’t be able to leave me and abandon me.”

Your eyes widened at his statement. Was he crazy? If he actually let you go one day, you would run as fast as you could, disappear off the face of earth. His confidence on this matter frustrated you, as if he had created this illusion of you in his head that you really loved him and would always be there for him, while in reality you hated him. He was sick in the head.

“We can’t be apart from each other, princess. You might think at first that you are fine, happy, but slowly you’ll feel that you’re missing something” he grabbed your head with both his hands, his eyes never leaving yours, staring right through your soul. “Every thought in this pretty head of yours belongs to me, I will always be engraved in those thoughts, forever. If you think you’ve ever escaped me, you haven’t. If you think you can stay away from me, you can’t. Wherever I’ll be, you’ll come to me yourself. Because you love me too much” he smirked, his words sinking deep into your mind.

So when you were rescued, you cried a lot, and while telling yourself you were crying because the horrible things you experienced, deep down you knew it wasn’t it. You were crying because you were leaving him. And you loathed yourself for it, and the guilt gnawing inside of you.

“I should go outside” you told yourself, remembering that you didn’t leave the house for days, dwelling in your thoughts and worries alone in your room. The weather was pretty, and some sun would do you good. Dressing up and grabbing some snacks, you went outside, hoping that for a bit the demons in your head would leave you alone.

But you didn’t realise that one of them, was right behind you, while you were walking on the empty park. He was wearing a pair of glasses and a hood, slowly approaching you. It didn’t took you too long to notice his presence, already used to living on edge and being aware of your surroundings all the time. You turned around, feeling tense while you kept your distance, panic visible in your face.

“Don’t be scared, I’m not going to hurt you” the man said, raising up his hands. “I’m just here to deliver a message from our lieutenant”

You squinted at him in disbelief, before it hit you.

The lieutenant…

..the lieutenant of the PLF

Dabi.

“W-What message?!” you stuttered, your heart pounding in your chest. He sent one of his men your way to personally deliver you a message, even though you had ignored his letters in the past few months, he still kept going, finding a way to affect your life and always be there. For some time you had tried to gaslight yourself into thinking Dabi wasn’t actually real, he was a nightmare that died long ago in the past. Nobody ever mentioned him to you, and you didn’t either. You were almost believing it.

But having this man right in front of you, mentioning him, letting you know that Dabi does exist, and he is in the present, still thinking of you, made you feel again the warmth of those hands touching your body all over. You felt them wrapping around your throat, invisible scarred hands decorated with metallic staples, slowly strangling you and cutting your airway, he was here.

“Every Sunday, he is allowed to get visits at 5 o’clock” the man continued, snapping you out of your dark thoughts. “Being a high ranked villain makes it difficult to reach him in prison, and most of the things are restricted whilst the accessibility is limited. They won’t easily give you the information you need”

No way.

“And why are you telling me this?!” you said, voice almost shaking but you tried to stay composed. “Does.. does he really think I’ll go visit him? Tell that monster he is dead to me!”

“Don’t play coy” the man quietly replies. “He is well aware that you tried to find information about the visiting hours in Tartarus a week ago. We both know what that means”

Your face turned hot, and your hands started sweating, like someone who got caught doing something they shouldn’t.

How does he know your every move? How does he always find the perfect timing to reach you, playing with your emotions, even if he is locked away from you?

“I am part of you princess, you can’t escape me” his low voice echoed in your brain. You shook your head, taking in a deep breath. What was supposed to be a nice relaxing day outside turned out quite the opposite.

You’d like to believe that you’re strong, that you’re over him. Maybe deep down it wasn’t that way, but you could totally show the opposite outside, you could fake it all and pretend that he never affects you. Face him and show it right in front of him, that you are ready for a new life, without him, you’re willing to heal and move on, despite the difficulties. Maybe only then, he will leave you alone. Face your fears, or so they say.

You gave the man a cold stare, before forcing a smile on your face.

“I may have been digging for information yes, not that is any of your business, but thanks for making my job easier”

I’ll make sure to tell him right in his face how happy I am without him and how I burned all his pathetic letters.

Sunday came by fast, but you had enough time to prepare emotionally for everything. As much as you hated doing this, you also had the need to see him, that was gnawing inside of you. Maybe if you saw him in his pathetic state, locked up in prison, you’d see how powerless Dabi actually is compared to you, how you’re worrying over nothing, and it would help you heal faster. You also wanted to grow a backbone, to fight for yourself and set your boundaries, already tired of living in fear and being controlled by the nightmares of your past which would creep their way into the present. You were in control, and that gave you a certain confidence.

You made sure to look as decent as possible, not giving out any sign of weakness, wearing formal clothes which added more to your confidence. You were building up a facade, something that Dabi had never seen before when you were his captive, you wanted to show him that you had changed, you weren’t that poor weak girl anymore and he had no control whatsoever. Whether it was the truth or a lie, does it really matter? Better to fake it than cry yourself to sleep every night tormented by him, you thought.

“Where to, miss?” the taxi driver asked. You told him your destination, to which he reacted with a surprised look on his face. On the way, he tried to pry here and there, curiosity taking the best of him, though you didn’t give him much information.

You found yourself in front of the facility, two guards coming towards you. You took in a deep breath, stepping forward to enter inside, being brought inside a small office. An officer was sitting near his desk, viewing some papers, before turning to you.

“Visits will end in one hour” he firmly said.

“I am aware” you replied. A few seconds passed by in silence, before you spoke again.

“…I wanted to visit Dabi”

The mere mention of his name in your own tongue felt so foreign and yet so familiar it made you feel nauseous.

The officer looked at you in what you could say shock, because high ranked villains were mostly visited by pro heroes and higher ranks of society. And you looked nothing of the sort. Though he didn’t stick his nose further into your business, he’d already gotten the necessary information about you and simply guided you into a room, with nothing but a chair in it. A glass separated you from the other side of the room, where prisoners were brought.

So you waited.

And waited.

Your overwhelming emotions and erratic heartbeats deafened your senses, seconds felt like hours as the guards went to get Dabi. You suddenly wanted to bolt away from the room, the nausea getting worse.

You should head back while you have time. Just get out, you shouldn’t have come here-

“Won’t even look at me, princess~?”

The timber of that voice brought you back to the harsh reality you were facing, your vision cleared and now you could hear everything. Your nails dug in your thighs, it took everything in you to not start trembling.

This was a bad idea.

You swallowed it down, as hard as it was to lift up your head, you still did it. Meeting face to face with that haunting face. His striking blue eyes remained the same, quite the opposite to your expectations they still held life, power, fire. He looked like anything but a pathetic locked up villain with a life sentence. His dark fluffy hair, with the white roots showing, his patched skin and piercings remained the same. Dabi stood there in front of you, like a man who wasn’t in prison, with his usual smug expression as he glared at you. He didn’t smile, didn’t do anything but stare at you for a good while, studying you, studying the way you have changed.

You thought to take advantage of the silence.

“…I am not here because I wanted to see you or missed you” you began, clearing your throat, keeping your voice stable. You had practiced what to say many times. “I am here to make it clear to you that things between us have ended, you gotta stop bothering me. All the letters you’ve sent me.. I burned them all and threw them away. It’s.. really pathetic to see you haven’t given up after all this time, can’t it get more clear that I never wanted you? So I am respectfully asking, to stop bothering me and-”

“You’re so fucking sexy”

His statement interrupted your speech, the words got caught in your throat, catching you completely off guard. You felt your face burn, and you couldn’t continue without stuttering. And there it was, his signature smirk appearing on Dabi’s face, soon turning into a wider smile as he enjoyed your little reactions.

“You haven’t changed at all, princess. Look at ya, still gettin’ all shy and flustered so easily, god I just missed this so bad~”

“Did you- did you even hear what I was saying?!” you raised your voice, embarrassment now turning into anger.

Stay calm, you need to stay calm and composed. Don’t give him the reaction he so badly wants.

You took in a deep breath, barely holding eye contact with those blue orbs that still had the same effect on you as before, making you feel small. You felt so small, but you had to act big. He shouldn’t know your weakness.

“Oh, I heard it all” Dabi said, licking his lips. “Though I couldn’t help but get distracted by that pretty face of yours, sweetheart. You’re tryin’ to be all serious and assertive here, makes ya look so hot I gotta admit.”

The look on his eyes was feral. If it wasn’t for this glass separating you two and his restraints, he surely would have pounced on you. Desire was dulling his senses, he felt his body burning hot as he took in your sight. You looked like a new person, the way you stood bravely in front of him, the way you spoke firmly, but those pretty eyes of yours gave it all away. He could see what was hiding inside, the desperation, the fear, the submission he so much loved.

“How have you been, my love? Living your happily ever after with some new guy perhaps?” he chuckled. “Since you never answered my letters, I feel like I deserve an answer now at least don’t I?” Dabi said, approaching closer to the glass. “And don’t give me that crap of you throwing it all away and forgetting about me, it ain’t gonna work doll”

“It is true though!” you snapped back. “I never bothered to read them, I told you I have moved o-”

“And you know damn well I hate liars” he interrupted you, giving you an intense stare that instantly made you break eye contact. “I am sure I’ve told you that, haven’t I love? You’re a terrible liar, and while it’s fun to watch you try to make up things, it really, really pisses me off. And-”

“And you’re not a patient man..” you mumbled to yourself, having memorised his words since back then.

“That’s a good girl” he grinned. “See, you still remember it all don’t cha?”

You shook your head. “I-I mean it though, I want you out of my life. Stop reaching out for me! I want to move on and-”

“You should get some things straight, princess-” Dabi interrupted again.

Fucking asshole.

“Stop interrupting me!” you raised your voice again, and you were instantly met with a chilling cold gaze.

“Y/N”

The mentioning of your name made your breath hitch. Back then, whenever he mentioned your name, not any of the nicknames he gave you, but your full name, that’s when he’d get angry. That’s when he’d punish you, burn you, almost kill you. That’s when you wished to just die, for the suffering to end. And hearing him say your name again, made you go silent whilst your eyes burned with tears that threatened to fall.

“Don’t be a brat now, sweetheart” Dabi let out a sigh before continuing to where he left off. “Moving on and creating a new happy pathetic life is your decision, no matter what external factors get in the way. But your pretty head can’t wrap around this that easily, y’keep blaming me for your constant failures to move on”

You stared at him in confusion. “Huh?! What do you mean?”

“All I’m sayin’ is, if you wanted to move on you totally could, no matter what I do. But you can’t move on, because you love me. You came all the way to see me. Can’t you understand this, little flame?” he chuckled.

“I don’t love you!” you screamed at his face, standing up from your chair. Your glossy eyes met his, your little facade slowly breaking as he finally saw you for what you were.

“There she is” he leaned back, watching you in amusement. “Missed my girl so damn much, you have no fucking idea, I wonder if those tears taste the same again~”

“…shut up”

“What, did you come here to tell me all the crap about moving on? Why would I even care about that bullshit, love? By lying to me you’re only lying to yourself” he clicked his tongue. “Life is easier when you’re true to your feelings, princess.”

“You’re fucking delusional, you’re sick in the head! Just so you know, I am so happy you will rot in here forever” you said through gritted teeth.

“Is that a way to speak to your man?” Dabi’s eyes widened, as if in shock. “You wound me, baby. What did I even do to you other than show you my unconditional love?”

You were about to insult him again when his gaze shifted down to his pants.

“Tch, look at that. Look what you do to me, baby. Did you come here to edge me, you little brat?” he cackled, your face burned in shame and anger at the way he mocked you, you couldn’t stand this any longer.

“You perverted fucking asshole!” you screamed, banging so hard at the glass that separated you both it almost cracked. “You’re disgusting! I hate you!!”

Instantly the guards rushed into the room, some grabbing Dabi and the rest grabbing you, asking for you to calm down. Whilst you screamed and cussed at him, Dabi laughed, his laugh got louder and echoed in the room while being dragged away.

You couldn’t even do a simple thing, he drove you crazy without even touching you or using any force on you. Just by his words, the villain easily taunted you and broke you. He could see through your lies.

Meanwhile, Dabi got thrown in his prison cell, door locking immediately. He was excited, full of energy. Chuckling to himself, he looked down at the formed bulge on his pants.

“Shit” he whispered. Unzipping his pants, he lowered his boxers and took in his hardened cock, veins almost popping out as the red angry tip begged to be stroked. He lazily pumped his cock, up and down with slow movements, breathing heavily while the image of you earlier invaded his brain. Your glossy eyes, your reddened angry face, puffy cheeks and pouty lips, your trembling voice, it drove him to the edge. He wanted you so bad, missed you so much, if only he could break through that glass and take you right there, forcefully bend you over and shove it in before the guards came in. “Nghh fuck..miss that.. fuckin’ pretty pussy..” he breathlessly said, pretending it was your cunt he was fucking instead of his fist. His eyes rolled at the back of his skull as he came hard, ropes of white cum wetting his fist as it dripped down on the ground.

Next time he came this hard, it would be right on your face.

Soon.

🏷️ tags: @hunajan @baby-tini @ameliaenya404 @syrenkitsune @irinangels @dabisangle @murderous-snail @ilovemushroomss @sarcastic-cookie @touyalove

#B.writes #dabi #touya todoroki #mha dabi #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #yandere dabi #yandere x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #touya todoroki x reader #tw: smoking #tw: yandere

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myhappylittlesideblog · 5 months

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Tell Me What To Do

A/N: okay you all convinced me. Daryl is inexperienced when it comes to sex. Bless.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader Prison Era

WC: 2.6K

Warnings: smut, masturbation (both), fingering, inexperienced Daryl, light voyeurism, premature ejaculation

Summary: when you need some help, Daryl is happy to offer his assistance and learn exactly what you need.

It was bad. It was hot, sweaty, and torturous and it was driving her to tears. It was like her own body was against her, making her crazy for a release that was too stubborn to come.

Pun intended.

By now, she had shoved a rag between her teeth which she bit down on relentlessly in both frustration and an attempt to smother any whimpers that unwittingly left her. It took everything in her not to tear the cloth to shreds.

Everyone around her was asleep, she was sure of it. It was an ungodly hour, after all. She was on the top level of the block and the cell next to hers was empty- newly empty. But that didn’t cross her mind right now. The only thing in her head right now was please please please…

Carol slept in the next cell block over, but she had taken over the night watch shift from (Y/N), which made this an optimal time to take care of this… need. This feeling that swelled deep in her gut and needed to be expelled.

She just couldn’t reach.

Her entire body trembled and her legs downright shook in the bed as her heels dug in and held her up. The curve of her back ached all the way up to her neck from its perpetual arching. She’d been so close for so long now, why couldn’t she just let go?

Out of breath, she laid out flat for a moment and stared at the ceiling, trying to imagine what had brought her to this point in the first place. She pictured strong, dirty hands, a slim mouth, and narrowed eyes. Deep in her mind, she heard grunts and curses. She even imagined whimpers.

It was too much. She tried again.

***

He’d seen her like that before. He didn’t do it on purpose, he certainly didn’t go looking. It’s just that the privacy screens on the cell doors only did so much, even when she yanked the ends of the curtain all the way to each side. He could still see.

And his tracker’s ears- they could still hear even when she did everything in her power to stay quiet. Just her breathing- as ragged as it was hushed- tipped him off.

Once he had just been passing by, grabbing Zack for his watch shift in the middle of the night. Luckily the kid was passed out, deep in sleep, and had no idea what she was doing just next door to him. It made Daryl’s chest light up with a jealous, protective fire that fueled him to push Zack silently along the balcony and out to the watchtower, none the wiser.

Daryl, though, was wise to it. To her touching herself in the dark. He wasn’t completely daft, he knew everyone did it and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t wonder about you previously. While he didn’t return to peek again- he wouldn’t, he respected you too much- he did rush back to his own cell like a grounded teenager sneaking back into the house at midnight. With shaking hands, he slammed his curtain up against the walls of his cell and leaned his back against the pillar of his bed.

He didn’t want to. It made him feel like a sleaze. She was nothing like anyone he’s experienced before- in his old life, his other life. And he thanked fuck for that. But he knew this aching hard on, the one that had so quickly spurred to life at the sight of her- that one tiny peek of her- wouldn’t go away without a fight. He had to take care of it. Had to rub one out right there, standing just inside the door of his cell, fly open and boxers pulled down just enough to get his fist around the base of his cock.

It was quick and dirty and he tried not to include her in his fantasies, but he failed. He pictured what he had seen that night, which was so similar to what he saw this night when he finally got the courage to peek through the sliver sized gap between the privacy shield and the wall of her cell.

***

The top level of the cell block was empty except for Daryl and her. He’d just laid down for the night- later than usual after returning from a run that evening- and he heard a breath catch.

He stood immediately, grabbing his crossbow from its perch on the ground right beside his pillow. Exiting his cell, he viewed with block from above, assessing any threat but he quickly realized there wasn’t one. Well, nothing more than a threat to his own sanity, that is.

He followed the noise, though she was successful in being almost silent despite her activities. He leaned against the wall, needing the support as he listened. He was sure there was only one person in the cell, no one else joined you, no other threat imminent.

One mouth hanging open, one set of lungs gasping for air, two feet sliding against the sheet, one her begging for orgasm. Though it was clear she couldn’t find it.

Just the sound of her had him losing his breath. And when his head slowly swiveled to the doorway, that was it for him.

Standing there outside her cell, he could imagine what caused her to make those struggling sounds. He could picture what her hands might be doing, where they could be touching, how she may have been trembling. Or shining with slick.

Now, however, he could see it all exactly. The saliva dampening the rag stuck in her mouth, the tears tracking their way down her cheeks, her breasts squeezed together like two mounds under her shirt as her arms reached and reached down between her legs. A sharp crack busted open in his chest as he watched her struggle. While he stood there with two good, free hands.

***

She was too lost in desperation to notice him slide past the curtain and into her cell. The hunter, after all, was silent. He set his weapon down on her clean desk and knelt at her bedside, taking in her furrowed brow and tangled hair. A moment passed as he simply watched her up close.

She only opened her eyes when he tugged the rag from her mouth. She jolted from him, shocked.

“Daryl-“

“Shh, s’alrigh’.” He wiped the tears from her face as he whispered to her.

“Is something- did I wake you? I’m sorry, I-“

He stopped her from shuffling the sheets closer to her body, but he himself tugged her shirt down to shield her from him. As if the image wasn’t burned in his mind already.

“I can help,” he said, taking her chin in his rough fingertips. “Yer workin’ so hard here,” he smirked.

“No,” she said.

His hands left her at the word. “Want me ta leave?”

“No.” She grabbed his arm, bringing his hand back to her face. “No, don’t leave.”

A grunt grumbled in his chest and left his throat. “Tell me what I can do. Tell me what ya want.”

She stared at him, taking in the face she’d been picturing all night and every other time she touched herself since meeting him. And now, he was right here. Offering to help. It sent a wave of slick down to her core.

Eyes falling into a lazy, needy haze, she moved his fingers from the tip of her chin to her lips. She sucked his middle two into her mouth, swirling her tongue around them and drenching them with her saliva.

“Shit,” Daryl groaned, feeling painfully hard in his filled out pants already. “Shit-cher such a pretty girl.”

She hummed around his digits, smiling at the praise. It was just as she imagined it might be.

With her feet, she kicked down the sheets and opened her legs for him so shyly. Just a bit.

“Please-“

“Tell me,” he said.

He’d fucked girls before, but it was just to get himself off. It was quick and sloppy and he barely used his hands, just his dick. He’d never worked for a woman’s pleasure before. He needed her to tell him what she wanted. He needed to feel her.

Her fingers never left him, wrapped tight around his wrist as she lowered his hand to the wet spot between her thighs. “I want your fingers in me,” she said.

The moment he touched her thigh, her knees fell wide open and he could have come right there and then, untouched. His cock jumped against the fly of his pants at the sight- at how wet she was for him.

“Jus-just one? Er-“

“Both. Please.”

The pads of his fingers rubbed at her entrance. He took a minute to explore her and she sighed happily, finally not needing to work so hard for her own pleasure. It was like a dream- he was like a dream to her.

Only when she nodded did his fingers slowly plunge into her. She was so warm and soft and spongy inside and when he pulled his fingers out, he felt her pussy suck him back in.

“Fuck,” he said.

She whined in answer, chasing his fingers and scooting her ass down the cot to be closer to him.

His fingers dove back in. “M’righ’ ‘ere,” he mumbled, leaning over her body as he knelt on the floor. He tucked his arm under her neck, his strong, round forearm acting as her pillow.

“M-fuck-yes,” she whined. “Yer fingers are so big, so long, yes-“

“Ya like tha’?”

“Yes, Daryl, please.”

He was drunk on her sounds. Drunk on the way her eyes squeezed shut and her teeth sunk into her lip and her back arched into him, curving to the side until it brushed against his chest. She wanted him so close.

She lifted her free hand- the hand that wasn’t practically tearing his shirt- and put her fingers in the air. She curled them up against her palm, showing him what she wanted him to do to her. Inside her.

“C-curl them, please, yes- like that.”

She was practically wrapping herself around him. After releasing these soft, high pitched whines, she moved into deep, guttural grunts and groans that had him falling over the cot, at her mercy.

“Fuck me, Daryl.”

“Whatever you want, baby. M’I doin’ good fer ya? Huh? Gotta be quiet now, good girl.”

She nodded, turning her head into him, kissing and sucking on his arm. He pulled her closer until the bulge of his bicep was flexed and right there for her to sink her teeth into.

It was all he could do to keep her on the bed. She was so sexy, so hot and pretty like this, he’d do anything for her. He already felt that way without this intimacy, but this night clinched it. He was hers.

He rested his cheek on her head and whispered to her, kissing her hair. “Ya gonna come fer me, baby? Huh?”

She nodded fiercely against his chest.

“Use yer words, girl.”

“Yes, Dare. Please, make me come.”

“Tell me wha’ I gotta do.”

She fell back on the cot, flat again like when they began this dance. “Don’t stop, please.”

He watched with hungry, black eyes as her hand trailed down her side to the little bundle right above the spot where his own fingers worked. His jaw dropped with a silent, knowing groan.

“Gonna rub yer clit fer me? Make yerself come ‘round my fat fingers, huh?”

She whined in confirmation. “Shit- please, please-“

“I gotcha, baby. Ya tell me, tell me what’cha want.”

“Harder.”

Fuck. That was it for him. He ground against the side of the bed, letting the friction finally touch his hard, oozing cock as he watched her. His fingers disappeared deep in her and he worked so hard to curl them the way she liked, the way that made her whine for him. But as she got closer to her orgasm, he felt that spongy spot on the top of her walls grow bigger and harder and it became more difficult for him to move his fingers. His hand felt as if it would cramp up and his veins were popping through the underside of his sore and tired forearm, but he’d die before letting his girl down.

This girl. Maybe at least for this stolen moment in the night she was his.

He watched her expertly draw little circles into what he knew was her clit- yes, there it was- and again, his barely touched cock twitched hard against his jeans.

“Fuck,” he ground out in a low growl. “Fuck me, (Y/N), look at me.”

She so quickly obeyed. Her eyes popped open and she bit her lip hard, but he couldn’t stand to see it so abused. His mouth crashed down to hers, sucking her bottom lip away from her teeth and soothing it with his tongue. He didn’t want to kiss her tonight, he didn’t want to ruin it with his sloppy, untamed mouth, but he couldn’t help it.

She moaned deep into his mouth and he ground into the side of the cot and came, shooting his cum into his pants.

Just as he was about to beg for her, she followed him into oblivion, ripping her mouth from his to suck in a gasp. She came whining his name and it was the best sound he’d ever heard. He wanted it tattooed on his skin so it would never leave him. Just the sound of her blissed out, fuck drunk voice.

Her hand shot down to his, where his fingers were still working inside her. “Slow, slow, please,” she said, trembling.

“Fuck, m’sorry-“

She kissed him again, this time softer against his lips. Her hands on his face smelled of her cum and he felt his cock blooming to hardness again.

“Thank you,” she said, exhausted and timid.

He chuckled as he sucked on his pruned, salty fingers, enjoying the taste of her and what he helped her do. “No problem.”

“You know, I can help with that,” she said, eyeing the bulge in his jeans. He thanked fuck that his boxers formed a barrier between his cock and his pants so she couldn’t see he’d already come once just at the sight of her, practically untouched.

“Next time,” he said, standing. He could see she was already fading, tired from the exertion. “Git sum sleep, girl.”

He turned his back to her, lifting his crossbow from her desk as quietly as he could, wincing at the uncomfortable, drying cum in his pants.

“Daryl,” she said from the bed. He expected her to fall asleep immediately, as he always did, but she’d sat up on the cot.

“Wha? Did I hurt ya?”

“No,” she said with a shy smile. “No, I’m good. But are we? Good?”

He shrugged, hiding his smile with a slanted smirk. “More n’ good.”

“Okay. Good. I’ll see ya in the morning, then.”

He nodded. “See ya.”

He ducked out the way he came in, silent with his crossbow on his back. His dick pressed stubbornly against his fly again and he knew he’d quickly take care of it by just closing his eyes and studying the image of her that was now burned into his eyelids. Sweet deal.

Maybe he’d actually be able to touch himself this time.

Before he made it to his cell, however, he passed Carol’s. She was already back from watch- how long had he been in (Y/N)’s cell?

Carol stood just inside her doorway leaning against it. “‘Bout damn time,” was all she said.

“Shut up,” Daryl said, as his whole body flushed red.

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elizaleclerc · 4 months

Note

Hi, could we please get something for Charles winning in monaco finally breaking the curse

this is perfect bc i was already working on this piece when the request came in so TY <333

the predestined ✤

charles leclerc x reader

summary: after many years as best friends, driver!reader is there for charles's first win in monaco

song: the chain by fleetwood mac

author's note: cried during charles's win obviously so ofc i'm gonna write about it! so happy for charles i'll literally remember that race forever. <333

word count: 2.1k

With a deep breath, Charles positioned himself behind the wheel of his car in the garage. A nervous energy pulsed through the air as everyone eagerly awaited the start of the prestigious Monaco Grand Prix. From your spot in the balcony with his family and friends, you could see the sea of faces in the grandstands. This was an annual tradition; ever since he had joined the ranks of Formula One racing, something seemed to go awry on this particular race day.

Four years ago in Monaco, it was your second season driving in Formula One alongside your best friend Charles. The roar of the engines filled the air as you pushed your scarlet car to its limits, weaving through the tight turns and tunnels of the famous street circuit. But then, a sudden jolt as you brushed the side of the wall, sending your car spinning out of control towards the barriers. Your heart raced as you fought for control, but it was too late. The impact with another car sent shards of metal flying and your body jolting violently within the cockpit.

Struggling to catch your breath, you tried to make sense of what had just happened. The world around you seemed to blur and spin as if you were caught in a whirlwind. The once clear sky now appeared hazy and distorted, making it difficult to focus on anything other than the pain coursing through your body.

Muffled calls from your team over the radio asking if you were alright echoed in your ear, but you didn’t have the ability to respond. Your senses were overloaded and all you could do was try to stay conscious as the world continued to spin.

Unbeknownst to you, flames had engulfed your car, licking at your helmet and suit. Red flags went waving, signaling danger on the track as fire marshals rushed to pull you out of the fiery wreckage. Their brave actions saved your life, freeing you from the burning prison that was once your beloved race car. Relief flooded through you as fresh air filled your lungs and cool asphalt crunched beneath your feet.

Your mind reeled as you processed what had just occurred. In an instant, everything could have been lost, but thanks to quick thinking and skilled rescuers, you were still standing. It was a stark reminder of the dangers of Formula One racing, but also a testament to the bravery and teamwork that binds drivers and their teams together.

The impact of the crash was so severe that it left you with injuries that would sideline you for multiple races that season. The ultimate decision to never race again weighed heavily on your mind, as the thought of even stepping back into a Formula One car filled you with terror. You often found yourself haunted by nightmares of the crash, each vivid dream bringing back the gut-wrenching fear and pain you experienced that day. The mere idea of getting behind the wheel again was enough to make your heart race and palms sweat uncontrollably. Even now, years later, the memory of the accident is still fresh in your mind, replaying itself over and over like a broken record.

The next year in Monaco, as Charles raced for Ferrari without you, he had a DNF. And another one the year after. It seemed that in the following years after your crash, Charles had nothing but bad luck in Monaco, and you partially blamed yourself for it.

You’ve been fiercely loyal to Charles, following him on his journey through the fast-paced world of racing. From the adrenaline-filled tracks of Monaco to the Formula One races across the globe, you were by his side every step of the way. As his best friend since childhood, he called you his good luck charm, and you took pride in knowing that your presence brought him comfort and confidence. The two of you used to spend afternoons zooming around karting, dreaming of the day when you would both be competing in Formula One and representing your home streets of Monaco. Memories flooded your mind, bringing back images of carefree days spent laughing and chasing each other around circuits, helmets bouncing with every turn.

From the first day you met, you and Charles were inseparable. Your bond was unbreakable, forged through countless shared experiences and deep conversations. You were always there for him, watching as he dated girls who only ended up breaking his heart. You felt his pain as if it were your own, but you couldn't bring yourself to express your true feelings for fear of ruining your friendship. You knew deep down that if Charles would just give you a chance, you could make him the happiest man on earth. But you guarded your heart, afraid of the consequences of revealing your love for him. Despite it all, your unwavering loyalty and devotion to each other remained constant, a shining beacon amidst the turbulent waters of young love and friendship.

So you stood in the garage anxiously as the five red lights went out and the race in Monaco began. Charles had earned pole, so everyone hoped he could stay first for the whole race. As the cars roared by, the tension in the air grew thicker. It was a difficult circuit for overtaking, and some spectators complained about the lack of action. But for Charles and his team, every second counted as they strategized and hoped he could maintain his lead until the end of the race.

Even with the little action of the race, your body was riddled with nerves the whole time. You knew that Ferrari was not making any plans for a pit stop, as the two McLarens behind them were too close to Charles. You had faith that Charles could manage his tires well, but with 78 laps of racing, anything could happen.

As Charles completed his 50th lap, he expertly maneuvered around the track, his car gliding gracefully through the turns. With calculated precision, he would occasionally slow down, causing the pack of cars behind him to bunch up. You could feel the tension and intensity in the air as you watched from the sidelines. Having been in races yourself, you knew that at this point in the race, the tires were wearing severely and it was crucial to maintain control and avoid a mistake with the worn front tires. The smell of burning rubber permeated the atmosphere, adding to the adrenaline and excitement of the moment.

You clasped your hands, ignoring the cameras that would occasionally show your face on the big screen. Your crash and subsequent retirement from racing made massive media news, and your name was always brought up alongside Charles’s years later.

It was lap 65, and Charles’s first win at Monaco was becoming more and more of a reality. You placed your head in your hands, refusing to believe that something that both of you had dreamed of for years might actually be real. At lap 70, a radio message from Charles popped up on the screen, “Tell Y/N that I’m bringing it home.”

Tears streamed down your face, a mixture of overwhelming pride and joy. For years, you had witnessed firsthand the dedication and tireless efforts that your partner had put into his career in Formula One racing. The term "curse" had been thrown around by critics and skeptics, blaming your own past accident for his string of bad luck on the track. But in this moment, as he crossed the finish line with the checkered flag waving triumphantly above him, you knew that there was no curse to blame. It was his unwavering determination and relentless hard work that brought him to this victorious moment.

You could hear Charles's exuberant cries through the radio, his voice crackling with emotion and adrenaline. As someone who had experienced the thrill of winning an F1 race, you understood the magnitude of this achievement for him, far beyond what anyone else could comprehend. This win was pure euphoria, a testament to his unwavering passion and perseverance.

As you stood pressed against the cool metal barrier, your eyes were fixed on him standing tall and triumphant on the podium. The roar of the crowd was deafening, but all you could hear was the sound of your own heart beating in your chest as he caught your eye. A wide grin spread across his face, his eyes shining with excitement and pride. Despite the chaos around them, the two of you kept a steady gaze locked on each other throughout the celebration. And just before the three drivers uncorked their bottles of champagne and sprayed it everywhere, Charles blew you a kiss in admiration, making your heart skip a beat. It was a moment frozen in time, one that you would never forget as long as you lived.

You stayed in the paddock as Charles did post race interviews, just waiting until you could see him and give him the biggest embrace. You listened to his interviews, smiling to yourself over his sheer happiness and gratitude. While answering one question, your name was mentioned. “This win means more to me than any other win for sure, but it is not just mine. I have to share this win with Y/N, we’ve always dreamt of this moment for each other and this win is just as much hers as it is mine.”

Tears of joy blurred your vision as you heard the endearing words spill from his mouth. As he finally returned to the paddock, you couldn't contain your excitement and ran up to him, throwing your arms around his broad neck. He lifted you up with ease, spinning you around in a blur of laughter and exhilaration. "We did it! We really did it!" His voice rang out triumphantly, echoing through the room.

"I'm so proud of you," you choked out, your voice trembling with emotion.

His hand cupped your face gently, his eyes never leaving yours. There was a momentary pause as he seemed to gather his thoughts before speaking again. "I couldn't have done it without you," he said earnestly. "And I want you to know...I love you.”

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh. The two of you had always been close best friends, and saying "I love you" was a common occurrence between the two of you. But this time, there was something different in the way he said it.

"I know you do, Charles," you replied, a small smile still on your lips.

Shaking his head, he spoke softly, for only the two of you to hear. "No," he said, his words filled with determination. "I mean it. I love you." Your smile slowly faded as his words sank in. This wasn't just a platonic declaration of affection - this was something more, something deeper.

"I told myself that if I won this race, I would finally tell you how I truly feel," he continued, his voice trembling slightly. "And I meant every word of it. I love you." Your heart swelled with emotions as his words washed over you, and your lips parted in shock. In that moment, surrounded by nothing but each other's presence and the sound of your beating hearts, everything changed between the two of you. And as his hand slipped into yours, you knew that this was only the beginning of something beautiful and true.

As a small smile spread across your face, you replied in a soft, breathless voice, “I love you too, I always have.” A surge of emotions flooded through you, almost overwhelming in their intensity.

His grin seemed bigger than it was when he was on the podium, his eyes shining with pure joy. “Since I won, can I kiss you now?”

You eagerly nodded, feeling your heart race as his lips met yours. In this moment, all the stresses and worries of the past weeks seemed to melt away. It was just you and Charles, finally together after so many obstacles and challenges. The realization that he was now yours and you were his filled you with a sense of contentment and happiness like never before. You held onto him tightly, basking in the warmth and love that radiated from both of you.

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 x reader #formula one fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 #f1 fic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc #monaco finally loved you back charles #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charlesleclerc #monaco gp 2024 #monaco grand prix #monaco24 #monaco 2024

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fqntasies · 5 months

Text

Prize - Feyd Rautha x Reader

Summary: The Na-Baron is set to fight in the arena once more; yet his opponent's reveal is a shock to you and perhaps the other Harkonnen as well. Upon his impending victory, your husband claims you as his prize, ravenous, of course.

Disclaimer: connected to my other fics of feyd. I dont write my stories as chapters, but rather time-jumps to various moments in the reader & feyd's story (considering that I write you both as connected through dreams since childhood, betrothed, etc.)

Word Count: 1,988

This was to be the second fight you would witness of the Na-Baron's, a momentous celebratory event that filled arena's and sparked a sense of frenzy among the inhabitants of Giedi Prime. The first you had witnessed took place just months before your wedding ceremony; in part a testimony of the Na-Baron's prowess and strength, a claim perhaps to your hand, if you were to view it as such. The spectacle had left you breathless then, and you were certain this time such a reaction would be warranted as well. If nothing else, the racing of your heart and the thunderous chorus of the crowds stood attest to it. They were like beasts among the stands, delirious for their prince, and loyal to their homeworld above all else, chants in the air.

This particular occasion already felt separate. Opponents were typically drugged enemy houses or military prisoners let loose in the triangular space, as was custom. But not today. You had seen odd glances among the servants, and even whispers from other members of the Harkonnen house along passing corridors. Something had been changed in the lineup. But what? Had a prisoner been injured? Escaped before the fight? When you look to your handmaidens, they give nothing away but reassuring nods, pale skulls angling towards where the battle will commence after but a moment.

You could not deduce; instead aware of the light breeze that clips at the base of your neck, and the blinding light that reigns above. It casts sharp shadows over your party, jutting from the edge of the alcove's decorative ceiling.

You stand from your seat to walk the few paces to the edge of the balcony, the dark silk of your gown sliding across your thighs like rivets of water. It is just a few paces, but you feel as though you have stepped into a new world as the sun lathes you in it's blanket of heat. You press your palms against the stone that greets you, and eyes turn down, fixed at the doors to the far north of the arena. The ring on your finger sparkles brilliantly in the day, and for a moment, the roars around you are deafening.

Then, silence... and there he is.

You see that pale visage stark against the darkness behind him, hands gripping twin blades, and you are rapt with attention. Feyd's shoulders heave with his heavy breaths, armor only enhancing his form. You knew if you were to stand up close, his eyes would be endless black pools, ravenous for the blood that was to spill before him, striking against the milky softness of his skin. He was his own animal. Foreignly alien, and yet yours all the same. Husband.

You blush as his eyes find yours abruptly, and he stalks from the entryway, steps bringing him towards you in the sand, even as he is leagues below. Your mind drifts to just hours before, where the Na-Baron had caged you among ebony blankets in your shared chambers, leaving no escape from the broadness of him in the cool of the morning. Ghosts of his tongue and mouth have you heaving a breath; licking your lips as though parched. You knew you would dream of him again tonight, even as his arms would trap you like a vice in the safety of sleep. It thrilled and frightened you alike.

Feyd lifts his blade in oath above his head, like a promise to the heavens, and you nod in reply as that sharp edge glints in the light. This blood he spills for you. Always for you. As he would for any who dared to come between.

When he turns, he rolls his shoulders languidly with a tilt of his head. Ready to strike. And you shift to look towards the very same gates he had come through moments ago. That's when you pause - a breath catching in surprise.

The harpies - you were sure of it; their angled forms were roped about each other, a strangling mess of light limbs as they were dragged by burly guards towards the center of the sands. An offering before their dark prince. Proposed like some strange kind of sacrificial lamb.

Suddenly you knew - this was what had made everyone so surprised.

Feyd has turned again, his face now determined, set. You can see it in the sharpness of his jaw, like he vibrates with a new kind of rage. It's his declaration of his love. He will destroy the things that sought to destroy them and their bond; greedy creatures who cared not for the destiny set before their master. Only seeking flesh and carnal sustenance.

At one point, members of the Harkonnen house had thought to leash the Na-Baron with the harpy creatures; perhaps thinking such temptations could control him, avenues orchestrated by the Baron himself, or Rabban, though you assumed the former. But they had failed to see the lengths to which Feyd was devoted to you, had never known the dreams you both had shared since before your very meeting.

This was what he offered to you. Power and promise. Heady in the air, and ripe with opportunity.

---

When they were lifeless upon the sands, you meet your husband's gaze again. There is red painting his body like stars in the milkyway; and a gash covers his chest where one of the harpies had caught him in her claws. He sways a bit, almost drunkenly; and a bloodied grin paints handsome features as he picks up a pace towards you, black cloak carrying behind him like a billowing shadow. You know where he is headed, as his form disappears beneath. It sets your heart to a stampede, goosebumps prickling along the flesh of your arms, and you are swift to dart from the cover of your ladies.

He hunts you, a hulking form somewhere below, closer and closer.

You envision the Na-Baron stalking through the main doors as you flit between sunlight and shadows, a rasp low in his chest as he parts his lips to taste the air, bloodlust and craving. A needy hunger. It makes your legs feel unstable as you blindly chase between archways, imagining the ghost of your prince behind you at your neck. Would he grab you, you wonder...? Would such hands that had slaughtered moments ago trap you now? The horror. The wonder. Your fingers grasp fistfuls of your gown, bare feet pressing against the cool of the marble under your padded steps.

You huddle swiftly behind a wall to catch your breath, angling your jaw to listen as you puff air in and out of your lungs.

"I know your here, princess."

You startle in silence, running cold - gosh - that voice. It was a weak point for you, Feyd had learned swiftly (as had you). A dangerous piece of knowledge, used more often than not as a way to keep you in your shared bed, wanton and delirious as he sought you out. You knew he carried a dare in his words now. Try to run, little rabbit. Try and see.

You want him to catch you, you think. Though perhaps not yet. Your mind fights for what to do - envisions him around you, and you battle the fog of your machinations in a fleeting moment - dashing towards a new hall at the opposite side of the room.

His laugh is low and drawn out as you fly from him, turning into a growl. You are nearly through a new door when he has you - twisting your fighting form and pulling you with him into the unfamiliar space, strong fingers gripping at your waist.

Then he is claiming your mouth with his, pulling you down with him and into his lap, arms trapping you like you were meant to be there - precisely so - all tongue and taste; the two of you stumbling against a wall. You moan - preen against him, fitting to his hold like a puzzle piece that was perfectly matched.

The slide of his tongue on yours is wet and heavy - and in the haze of kisses you see his eyes heavy lidded, watching, following a growl and the nip of his black teeth. It has you sighing again, mewling like some wanton thing, and the silk of your skirts are gripped in his hand at your hip, which cranes to push you against him. The other angles your neck, tipping your mouth deeper into his, and you think for a moment there is no where else you could go. No where quite like this where you belong so completely. His touch is so warm, and broad - iron too, you are aware that even if you attempted a form of escape, he would have you again in an instant.

"- My prince."

His eyes flash at your breathy words. You two had danced this game before - pretending it was your first meeting, feigning some kind of unaware strangers scenario, though you were both well aware of the visions that plagued each other's sleep for years.

He couldn't ignore the calling of your soul even if he tried.

"My lady." He sounds debauched as he cranes to attach a hot mouth to the spot below your ear, and you arch further into him, brows knitting together at the sensation; fighting for control. You make that sound again - the gentle whine that makes his eyes nearly roll back in his skull, and he chases it with another lathe of his tongue, and a warning rumble in his chest.

Don't tempt me - he taunts.

You have half a mind to mark him the same.

"You're not leaving this time, sweet one. I still haven't even gotten your name." His words proceed a suck at your bottom lip, and you angle to taste him in the fog that covers your mind. You almost don't understand the words in your haze; but the smile you taste in his kisses brings you back, and you pull away enough to face him, lips detaching from his own with a wet gleam.

"But my lord - you know I am engaged." the rumble he makes is another warning, hips against your own as his hands hold you there.

"Then I shall cut him down like all the rest." There is a pride and a jealousy that glimmers in the Na-Baron's eyes, even in this pretend world the two of you have crafted, and it takes you a moment to snap out of your heady admiration of him, chasing after his tongue with your own as you lean back in. Heads turn this way, and that, the heat of your breaths and the wetness of your kisses filling the silence of the space you've chosen.

Feyd groans - followed by a gentle tilt of your head, and his lips are by your ear, his hand in your hair, a commanding hold - though you know he'd never hurt you.

"I quite think you'd enjoy that, wouldn't you, little one?" You pant softly in response, only able to suffice a delicate nod in his embrace, overcome with your desire for him. And that's all he needs to hear, sliding his tongue against yours once more before he's hoisting you in his arms, the fabric of your dress bundling by his hold, baring the soft tenderness of your thighs. It has the muscles in his neck craning with a ragged groan, eyes trailing to meet yours with barely restrained tension. A man at his breaking point.

His swift strides have you clinging tightly to him, nose against his neck, pressed just under his ear. The wafting aroma of his cologne and the sweat and blood of the arena are filling your senses. You know he brings you to your chambers; the grip of his hands and the speed of his steps tell you as much; it makes you taste your lip between your teeth, pressing just so against him.

His prize.

#WE'RE BACK BABYYY #y'all know i couldnt stay away from another feyd fic #enjoy this delicious chapter #gosh i just wanna kiss a man #and feyd's got the most kissable mouth ever its so not fair #feyd x reader #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha #x reader #fanfic #dune #dune part 2 #dune pt 2 #dune 2 fanfic #austin butler #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha x you #feyd x you

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sp4ceboo · 6 months

Text

Upon the Sands of the Arena: Feyd-Rautha x Reader

A/N: basically reader fights feyd in the arena, my apologies if there are any inaccuracies, i'm dUmB

tw: 18+, smut YAAA, fighting, swearing, i use fire metaphors too much, blood, violence and death (it's in a a gladiatorial arena ffs), creampie, one ass spank, fingering + oral (f receiveing) hella lot of sexual tension, Fighting as Foreplay, feyd sorta has a blood kink but he's just freaky like that, sort of fluffy at the end, hint of voyeurism if you squint really hard, lmk if there's anything else

wc: 4.1k

part 2

The Bene Gesserit are distracted.

If the Kwisatz Haderach was not so near, they would have disposed of you properly. Instead, they sucked you back into their dark web of deceit and occulted plans only to spit you out just as fast, leaving your fate to the blood soaked sands of Giedi Prime’s arenas. You believe that if it were not for the actions of Lady Jessica Atreides and her defiance of the order, they’d pay you more attention.

Not that you’re complaining.

You were trained to flourish in the dark, lurking in the shadows of the deepest of nights, awaiting a time to strike. However, you are not like your mentors, you do not believe in the hoping, the weaving of bloodlines for the production of a distant messiah, nor do you dirty your hands to obey an imperious Reverend Mother.

Truly, you admire Lady Jessica for doing the same as you did - defying the order and thereby splintering from it; all the same, you do not desire what she wants. For she wants power for her son and her unborn daughter, and you want nothing but to be left alone.

In a universe full of yearning for a greater purpose, you want the opposite. Often, you find yourself wishing you were something of nature: not mundane, by any means, but uncontrollable, like the desert winds that sift through the sands of Arrakis simply because. To be like them, without a master, without the endless search for purpose, is freedom.

Instead, you have been branded with the title Bene Gesserit - ex Bene Gesserit now - and you wield too much power for the order to ignore you, even alone. Hence why they incorporated your capture into their plans, engineering it so that you face the Baron’s brutal, bloodthirsty nephew in the arena.

They’re going to have to try harder than that to kill you.

You think they forget that you once were as good as the rest of them. They forget that you still possess the ability to alter the molecules in your blood to resist the drugs they pump into the arena prisoners, and they forget that you trained beside the best in combat.

The arena is where you thrive.

The roar of the crowd is deafening. It excites you, the swell of noise that is thousands of harsh Harkonnen tongues heckling for blood; the stamp of their feet as they cry their na-Baron’s name vibrates through the arena, through the grains of sand beneath your feet, deep and heady like burgundy wine.

Your fingers tighten around the blade given to you, barely sharpened and made of unsanded wood, but solid all the same. It’s all you’ll need against the na-Baron. He is but a cruel man set on fire with exterminable blue flames, and you are Bene Gesserit: defiant of the order or not, it is who and what you are, and it is pure power coursing through your veins - power that answers to you and you only.

The roar of the na-Baron soars over the crowd’s cheering, animalistic and full of fury that makes you wonder what incenses him so much. Something in his past, maybe, something that he only acknowledges in the inner machinations of his cunning mind.

The grate in front of you opens, and you allow yourself a smile as you step out into Giedi Prime’s tortorous ebony sun. High above, you spot the slit of a balcony where the Baron himself reclines, watching his nephew with a benevolent smile and a pipe in his hand, flanked by subservient concubines with bowed heads. All around, the crowd shouts, thunderous, urging their na-Baron to spill blood on the sand, to paint the arena red. It swirls around you like a washed out dream, black and white but simultaneously vivid, the stink of rotting bodies and sun bleached white sand pungent in your nostrils, the occasional pop from the fireworks overhead heavy in your ears.

Rolling your shoulders, you pace a few steps in before sitting down in the sand, cross legged, the backs of your hands against your knees with your blade flat against one of your palms. Pitiless, you watch as the na-Baron slices the throat of the first prisoner that staggers his way, throwing him an enigmatic smile when he glances towards you.

His eyes are cold; calculating. They’re dark, striking against his pale skin as they suck in the light, and hungry too, as if he strives for something he does not quite know, always reaching, always burning for more.

Intriguing.

He circles in on the next prisoner, who meets his end by the same savage knife work as the first, his guts spilled out onto the greedy sand. Insatiable, chest heaving with excitement more than fatigue, the na-Baron turns to you, his final prey - his black teeth are bared in a magnificent, maniacal grin, his footsteps silent as he approaches.

Facing him now, you understand why the Bene Gesserit believed that by crossing the Atreides’ meant-to-be daughter with the Harkonnen’s na-Baron, they would make the Kwisatz Haderach. There’s no doubt in this man’s genetics, in the solid lines of his strength sheathed bones and the sheer virility and ferocity that permeates the air around him - it’s almost elegant, the way he prowls towards you, his stride lilting and laced with power. They picked him well.

Too bad you’ll have to kill him.

If he proves to be obtuse, you’ll have no choice but to slay him in order to save yourself. If he is, however, as cunning as they say, you’ll give him a chance to live - it’d be a shame to end him, actually: something draws you to the rawness of his nature, to the frigidity of the ire in his eyes.

The na-Baron circles closer, his skin like moonlight. He watches you like a hawk, as if he’s the one who’s hunting, ready for his next meal; his eyes flash in the sun, studying you, watching for your tells even as you identify his. Smiling, you drop into a crouch, knife outstretched like a twisted mockery of a peace offering, waiting for him to take the bait and strike.

He cocks his head. ‘It’s rare that I face a woman in the arena.’

‘I’m sure it will still be of pleasure to you, Feyd-Rautha.’

‘I believe it will increase it tenfold, little witch.’

You don’t have time to figure out how he knows you’re Bene Gesserit, because he slashes at you, once down towards your ribs and once back up at your throat. His knife flashes in the sun, reflecting the bloodlust in his eyes as it arcs towards you; light on your feet, you parry both of his blows, dipping in to land your own. He’s strong, which is of less concern to you than his speed. Feyd-Rautha fights as if he’s dancing: not in the aspect that there’s flourish in his bladework - quite the opposite, he keeps his strikes efficient and tight - but in the smooth, hypnotic way that the movements of his body blend seamlessly together.

The crowd screams as he forces you into defence. It’s temporary, though, because he gets reckless, both driven and blinded by his hunger for blood - enough so that you can dart your foot out, hooking it around his ankles and overbalancing him. Sprays of sand are kicked up as he tries to steady himself, and you force him down with the tip of your blade to his pale throat.

A single, sleek drop of scarlet slides down his skin. Unhurriedly, he brings a hand up to catch it before it leaks onto his black armour, lifting it so he can see the blood your knife has shed. His gaze flicks up to you, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

‘Huh,’ he remarks, pleasantly surprised.

And then he lashes out, bringing you down into the sand beside him. With the hilt of his knife, he knocks your own out of your hand, and it’s catapulted into the air, spinning end over end and catching the light before it somersaults into the ground a few feet away. The grit plumes up at your face as you scuffle with him, and you hiss, frustrated that the sand does not lend you any more traction.

Rolling you over so fast your head spins, Feyd-Rautha drives his knife down towards your exposed neck. It makes a bolt of panic shoot through you, followed by the deep seated, survival impelled instinct to use the Voice on him, but like hell you’re doing that; honour prevents you, as well as the desire to finish this fight properly. You have no choice but to grab his forearm, slowing his blade’s descent, and a mirthful, rasping noise leaves his chest - a laugh that sets his eyes alight.

And then, the pressure dissolves, falling away. He stands, smirking down at you, the sun like a damning halo around his head. Silence falls over the arena, the anticipation thick in the air as he raises his hand, gesturing somewhere over your shoulder.

‘Go on, little witch, get your knife.’

You sneer, seeing the greed in his eyes, the misguided belief that he’s got you where he wants you. He wants to play, and it delights you.

Taking a few steps in the direction of the knife, you feign acquiescence. You can feel his eyes on your back, can sense the triumph oozing off him, and you let the adrenaline coursing through your veins guide your limbs, twisting you around so you can lunge at him, one hand wrapping around his bare forearm and bending it backwards as you spin him sharply until his back meets your chest. Viciously, you yank his arm further back, and the pain of that combined with your elbow tight around his throat, constricting his airways, is enough to loosen his grip.

A gasp ripples through the crowd as Feyd-Rautha drops his knife. It lodges in the ground beside your foot, and you flick it up with the toe of your boot, your hand darting out to snatch it from the air. The man in your arms bucks and writhes, but you keep your hold on him as you bring the knife to his neck for the second time.

‘Uh oh,’ you sing-song into his ear. ‘What’s happened here?’

He stills in your arms a little. ‘Why don’t you do it?’

‘I fear I’ve grown attached to you during our little fight,’ you hum. ‘It would be a shame to end a specimen like yourself.’

‘You are Bene Gesserit, I’m sure that you have arrangements - ’

‘I may be one, but I do not follow the order,’ you snarl. ‘I spare you because I wish to. Now, Harkonnen, knock the knife from my hand.’

You feel his muscles tense, the hesitation coursing through his body as he determines whether your bid is a trick or not, and then he does as you say, catching it smoothly and spinning to bring it to your throat. Calmly, you stare into his narrowed eyes, the cold caress of the blade harsh against your exposed skin.

‘What’s stopping me from killing you now, little witch?’

You laugh. ‘I trust I’ve piqued your interest sufficiently, na-Baron.’

‘Just Feyd is fine.’

You open your mouth to mock him, but he slices the blade away from your neck, very purposefully nicking you. Blood beads at the seam of the cut, hot and vengeful; he grips the back of your neck, exposing your throat to him, and prickles of pain shoot through you as the wound stretches. Frozen, you wait to see what he’ll do next, heart fluttering in your chest in a way that you know is not fear.

Insouciantly, he licks a long stripe up your skin, his scorching tongue following the trail of crimson his blade left behind. All consuming heat wells up in your stomach when he grins at you, displaying the hint of red coating his obsidian teeth, his eyes igniting the air between you as they dip down to survey your body, your heaving chest.

And then he releases you. You find your knees have gone weak, and you stumble as the guards close around you, grabbing you roughly under the armpits and dragging you out of the arena, your knees making twin tracks in the sand.

Managing a glance behind you, you catch sight of Feyd, his fist held triumphantly in the air as the crowd roars for their na-Baron.

Unsurprisingly, they throw you into a cell. Its walls are made of smooth, dark metal which seem to swallow up any sound that you make - it doesn’t surprise you that Vladimir Harkonnen has a Bene Gesserit proof cell - and the only thing furnishing it is a black blanket on the ground. A servant comes in and treats the shallow cut on your neck, but he refuses to meet your eyes and scurries off as fast as he can, almost forgetting to lock the door behind him.

You estimate two hours, maybe three, before Feyd appears in the doorway. His silhouette appears in the small glass window set in the door and pauses; you wonder if he’s considering leaving you there for a little longer, but then the lock disengages with a whoosh and the door slides open.

The air is immediately charged as he strides down the steps, eyes locked on you. With the smooth hiss of hydraulics, the door closes behind him, and he prowls forward, not quite smiling yet - you sense that he’s here to continue what you didn’t finish in the arena, and your back straightens a little as his gaze rakes over your body. He’s taken off his armour, leaving him in the thin black underclothes beneath, and he too has had someone treat the wound in his neck.

‘Your resistance to the drugs is remarkable, little witch. My blade was laced too.’

You raise an eyebrow. ‘I find that matter quite disappointing, actually, that you must face your opponents in the arena when they are half sedated in order to best them.’

He smiles, stepping closer to you until you share air. ‘It’s not just the winning I seek.’

‘Oh, what is it then?’ You ask. ‘Pain?’

Quick as a snake, you strike, letting the thrill of the fight shoot through you yet again as he matches you blow for blow. He looks at you as if he wants to eat you, to taste you - not just your lips or your tongue, but the defiant burn of your lifeblood too, and it makes you want to sink your teeth into him.

Slipping past his guard to catch the front of his shirt, you bunch the material in your hand and tear, baring his well muscled chest to you. The sight of it makes your lips quirk upwards, further so at the sound he makes: a half growl and a half groan as he lunges for you, wonderfully infuriated by the way you dance just out of his grasp, slipping through his fingers like water. His eyes are kindled with ardour - for both your blood and your flesh - and when they meet yours, shivers snap down your spine and tug at your stomach.

Feinting to the left, you jab at his neck. Like a scorpion waiting to strike, he grabs your wrist, tugging you towards him; you glance down at his feet, easily predicting that he’s going to sweep your legs out from under you if you let him bring you any closer. Yanking your hand back, you attempt to shake his grip on you, but he refuses to let go.

You slap him across the face.

Hard.

His fingers loosen on you as his head snaps to the side, the noise your palm makes against his chiselled cheek sharp and ringing in the cell. A soft, animalistic sound leaves the back of his throat, and when he lifts his chin, his jaw clenched to perfection, the pure lust in his eyes makes you stumble back a step.

Rushing at you, he takes advantage of the heady swoop of desire that messes with your head, slowly backing you against the wall with each punch and kick he throws. Heat roils in his gaze, so intense that when he slams you against the wall, you don’t know whether he’s going to kill you or kiss you - the not-knowing thrills you, sets your bones and soul on fire. One of his hands comes up, his fingertips caressing your throat before he pounces, mercilessly cutting off your air supply.

Leaning into your space, he brings his lips up to your ear. ‘If I’d had my way, little witch, I’d have fucked you right there on the sand, with all of them watching.’

Your head spins, and you can’t tell if it’s because of the lack of oxygen in your lungs or the feeling of his strong thigh pressing between your legs, relentless as he grinds it against your clit. You allow yourself a second to enjoy it before you retaliate, adrenaline seething in your blood.

Burying your nails into his arm, you twist it to the side, unbalancing him and taking him to the floor - his fingers grip your shirt, bringing you down with him. You land on his torso, straddling his hips, and as you do, he snaps his wrists down and rips your shirt from top to bottom down your back. The cool air of the cell sends ripples of goosebumps up your skin, and Feyd’s wide, calloused palms follow their path, surprisingly warm, deceptively gentle.

Bucking his lower body, he flips you over, pinning your hands over head, his long fingers circling your wrists as his hips press heavily into yours. Your eyes flick down to his mouth as he dips his head, his breath ghosting against your cheek; the curve of his lips is soft and almost graceful compared to the rough way he grinds against you, eager for more, yet eager to torture himself with the wait.

Tipping your jaw up, you let your lower lip brush his before you turn your head to the side, denying him. Amusingly, he follows your touch, insistent that you kiss him, but you ease out of his grip and trap him between your arms when he gives chase - a growl sounds low in his chest, one of his hands gripping your thigh, futilely yanking at your trousers as you grapple, rolling over and over on the cell’s floor.

His hand slams down beside your head, stopping your course, his forearm flat against your throat - not quite choking you, but not letting your air supply run free. Feyd’s touch sears your skin in the best way, and you wish to be consumed by the flames.

‘Must I tie you up, little witch?’

His voice is low and rasping, sending shivers up your spine. You don’t answer, instead claiming his lips, welcoming the insistent press of his tongue as you thrust your hips against his, seeking that exquisite friction. Running your hands up his strong back, you hook your elbow around the nape of his neck, locking him to you as he explores the taste of you.

Abruptly, he pulls away, and you open your mouth, protest on your lips until he tugs down your trousers and underwear, tossing them somewhere to the side, his own garments following. You get one good look at him, at his powerful, muscle lined thighs framing your hips and the curve of his leaking cock against his stomach before he swipes his fingers between your folds, sending jolts of pleasure through your core.

When he lowers his face to your heat, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, a breathless moan slips from you, loaded with anticipation. You can’t stop the louder echo that leaves you when he dips his fingers into cunt, curling them to hit your sweet spot, and your nails claw at his shoulder blades, leaving red trails behind them.

‘That’s it, little witch,’ he croons. ‘Sing for me.’

And sing you do, as he wrings the pleasure from you with his tongue and fingers until your legs tremble and close around his head. He pins your thighs to the floor, holding you open for him as he tastes you, insatiable, pushing you unrelentingly over the edge, again and again until hot tears slide down your cheeks and your voice breaks from crying his name.

Finally, he buries his length inside you. Your eyes roll back at the stretch of it, your pussy fluttering around him; you muffle the moan that rips itself from your chest by biting down on his shoulder. He chuckles as you mewl his name, your back arching as he pulls out, only sheathe himself up to the hilt when he thrusts back in - he’s as drunk on your sounds as you are on his cock: he needs more. More of you, of your delicious sounds and your intoxicating scent and that sweet, sweet cunt of yours.

Feyd fucks like he fights: ruthless, full of passion and lust, remorseless.

Just as you’re about to come around his cock, he pulls out, leaving you scrabbling against the floor, hips futile as they follow his, his name like a plea on your lips. He drinks in your desperation, flipping you over and cracking his palm down hard on your ass before slamming himself back into your weeping pussy, the ragged cry that escapes you like the nectar of the gods on his tongue as he swallows it with a kiss. Gathering your hair in his fist, he pulls your head back, pounding tirelessly into you as he pins you to his solid chest, mouthing at the skin behind your ear.

As Feyd spills his warm seed inside you, you wonder if the Bene Gesserit were actually distracted, or if that was what they wanted you to think as they crossed bloodlines, even despite your defiance of their order.

You flop onto the blanket as Feyd eases himself out of your spasming cunt. Your head is fuzzy, warm, and a dumb smile pulls at your lips.

Feyd chuckles. ‘I have not broken you, have I, little witch?’

You send him a look half as fierce as it should be. ‘Barely. You have merely sated me - for now.’

He laughs again, lying next to you on the blankets. His body is angled towards you, but he doesn’t reach out - that he lay down beside you is surprising to you in the first place, but you seize the opportunity and curl up in the curve of his body, enjoying the warmth of his skin. Slowly, his fingers card through your hair, and you close your eyes, letting yourself enjoy the moment of softness from the bloodthirsty na-Baron of House Harkonnen.

Reaching out, you grab the blanket and fold it over the two of you - he rolls over so that he lies with his head resting on your chest. His lips brush the skin between your breasts, and you're struck by the glimpse of vulnerability that Feyd allows you to witness; this is not by accident, this is a gift from him, a way of silently telling you that he has come as close to trusting you as he could ever come to trusting someone.

Silent, you bask there in the afterglow, eyes half closed. At some point, you seek Feyd’s lips, and he obliges you, lazily exploring your mouth in a way he did not get a chance to do before, sighing contentedly as you trace the lines your nails carved along the grooves of his broad back. Eventually, you pull away, staring into his eyes where the embers of the fire that had blazed in them still glow with the heat of it. You need to go.

Gently, your breath mingling with his, you kiss his cheek, your lips gliding against his skin before you get up, briefly laughing at the wobbly nature of your legs before gathering your clothes and dressing as best as you can, considering he ripped your shirt all the way down the back.

When you glance over your shoulder, he’s propped himself up on his elbows; the blanket has slipped down to reveal most of his moon coloured stomach, and he regards you with mirth mixed with something like respect.

You pause in the doorway. You can tell he’s letting you leave.

A smile plays on his lips.

‘We’ll meet again, little witch.’

It’s not a question, nor a whimsy. It’s a promise.

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