#or just pleasuring u in general

[redr0sewrites]

i need to write more for switch eris this is not a drill

as usual im yapping in the tags 💀

[suashii]

imagine eating something like a peach or a plum around boothill. . . you’re innocently biting into the flesh of the fruit when some of the juice slips down your chin and he takes notice. he doesn’t offer you a napkin, doesn’t wait for you to clean up the sticky nectar on your own — instead, he steps forward and takes a gentle yet firm hold of your jaw with his thumb and pointer finger, tipping your head up and lowering his to lick up the trail of sweet liquid. he kisses away the traces left on your pillowy lips, chases more of the flavor on your tongue with his own. and when he finally pulls away, his eyes are lidded and a smile lazily pulls at his lips. “well, aren’t you sweet?”

[sukugo]

Do you think gojo makes those freaky ass feral expressions while getting dicked down?

YES YES YESSSSSSSSSSS RAAAAAAAAAHHHH THIS IS SOMETHIGN IM PASSIONATE ABOUT OKAY!!!!!!! YES HE DOES

like, pleasure looks such a specific way on satoru. we can see it in the tojigo fight, the hanami/jogo fight and the sukugo fight. they're the only moments where we truly get to see raw pleasure on him and it's that. eyes popping out and manic grin and laughter bubbling in his torso and body charged, and mannerisms especially crude.

there's something so animalistic about it, his "human" mask slipping from him and showing him in all his monstrous glory, unfiltered and raw and like the freak of nature he truly is

and it's exactly the same thing when it comes to sex. it's all pleasure after all.

[dinodogs]

psa for new rwby fans: FOR THE LOVE OF FUCKING GOD STAY AWAY FROM ANY RWBY SUBREDDITS THAT PLACE IS HELL ON EARTH

[kuromi-hoemie]

im a top leaning switch but being an angelic sweet sweet pisces has me fighting the bottom allegations and losing

[mantisgodsdomain]

Occasionally we debate on illustrating random bits from our Discord PMs that we find really funny but then we remember that we're, like, the physical embodiment of the "ace that makes sex jokes" stereotype and phrases like "iterator dick discourse" would both be remarkably difficult to illustrate and probably require us drawing something at least somewhat NSFW (we do not particularly care to learn how to draw this)

[itoshi-s]

working at a lingerie / erotic boutique really puts sm thoughts into my head 😵‍💫 how different bllk / hq / tokrev boys would act. what’d catch their attention. whether they’re a bit timid or playful abt it. or maybe they’re so confident it makes the staff go crazy and gush abt u two as soon as u leave the store .. yeah ……

[tankgotstuckinthecircusgate]

falcone family which mostly* profits from human pleasure (brothel & drug sales) is so important to me

[otter-pup]

just in case before anyone misinterprets the post including a trans girl: i am not ATTRACTED to women, including trans women. i am also, however, not against platonic sex including with women. platonic sex rights

[safyresky]

Shadowy Snippet: Dite Comes Out

A/N: Been thinking of this one all week while fist fighting covid, given that it is ace awareness week! It's a little Into the Shadows snippet (shadowy snippet) I wrote a while back while having feelings well past ten o'clock. At one point in ItS, the Legates share their deepest fears—and Dite's is very close to home: she's afraid of coming out, as ace, to the other Legates.

Her scene here, her whole spiel, is very near and dear to my heart. Her coming out as Ace was my experience after discovering the term Asexuality, and trying to come out to my friends. It's very...personal, but I really wanted to share it because it's so near and dear to my heart, as is Dite, and it just felt right to share it with you all before the week ended.

So TW for aphobia; Dite shares her experiences with it for the whole first half. But I promise you, after she comes out, the Legates curb stomp any and all aphobia and love and support Dite just the way she is, as we all should do with all our ace/aro pals!

So, please enjoy! Happy ace awareness week!

(And sorry for the kind of like, not quite ending ending. It's a shadowy snippet after all—it's meant to continue into more Legates offering up their fears and such :). I did my best to give it a sort of ending ending)

---

Jacqueline sniffled, wiping away the wet with the palms of her hands. “I guess I just thought that maybe if you guys knew the truth, you wouldn’t accept me. You’d treat me different, or be as afraid of me as…as I’ve been.”

“Oh, Jacqueline!” Dite said, a warble in her voice. She was tearing up in a very cartoonish manner; it was very reminiscent of Studio Ghibli. Nearly flipping the table in her haste to fly over to the sprite, she grabbed her tightly and held her very, very close. “We’re you’re friends! We love you! We’d never turn you away. If you were to freeze right here, right now, we’d stay put and be with you the entire time. I’d be with you the entire time.”

Dite held Jacqueline’s cheeks gently, her warm palms wiping away the rest of the wet on her face. Jacqueline leaned into her hands with a happy sigh. “I know that now,” she said, her voice wavering. I am so in love, she thought, glad nobody could hear her thoughts.

Dite sniffled, hugging the sprite tightly and burying her head into Jacqueline’s shoulder. “I’m always here for you,” she said, quietly enough that only Jacqueline could hear. “Always.”

“Thank you,” Jacqueline whispered back, just as quietly with a careful squeeze.

“It’s funny,” Dite said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I have the same fear as you do. Did you know that?”

“You do?” Jacqueline asked, dumbfounded.

Dite nodded, letting go of the sprite and turning to the table at large. Her fellow Legates—her friends—all stared at her. Curious. Waiting. “I do. Jacqueline’s fear is so similar to coming out, and I’m just as afraid as she was. I’m terrified, actually, to come out to you guys, but I guess I’m about to do it anyway!”

“Come out?” Myles asked. “You already did? You told us ages ago, Dite!”

“You did!”

“I remember that!”

“Yeah! You were all like I’M PAN and we were all like SICK!” Blossom said.

Dite giggled in spite of it all. “I did. You were all very supportive. But I wasn’t referring to that,” Dite said. She took a deep breath before continuing. “I’ve taught you all the difference between romantic versus sexual identity, right?”

The Legates all nodded.

“Okay, good. That’ll make this a bit easier. Coming out as panromantic was surprisingly easy! It wasn’t a problem, at home. I mean, most, if not all the gods are panromantic. My sexual orientation is, uh, is. Is different. It’s, well, none,” she said with a shrug and a flustered laugh. “I’m asexual. Ace for short. I don’t feel sexual attraction. Um, it was. When I learnt about it, about ace as a term, it was a relief. I thought I was broken, and I felt really bad about it. So learning about it from the ace gods was a blessing. Pun unintended,” she added.

“But appreciated,” Charlie said.

“Speak for yourself,” Jacqueline shot back.

Dite giggled. “I told my parents right away. It was so reliving to have the term, I felt, well normal! And Mom and Dad were super supportive. Of course they were! God of Love, Goddess of the Soul? They understood completely and were really happy for me,” she said, hand sliding from her neck to her chest. “It went so well that I thought it’d go just as well with anyone else I told.”

“It didn’t, did it?” Jacqueline asked quietly, a chilly hand on the goddess’s forearm.

“No,” Dite said, the tears pooling now. “Not at all.”

A few tears fell; her wings fluttered in front of her, wiping them away carefully. “Dad’s side was ah, bad. Mom’s side was somehow worse! Diana and Artemis and Athena and Minerva were super supportive. I mean, of course they were! They’re the ones who taught me about asexuality, and the spectrum, and everything! But the rest of the gods? Holy guacamole,” Dite said, flushing. “It was all, that’s just a fancy way to call yourself a virgin and not feel bad about it! or, like, you just haven’t met the right one yet! And the best? Oh, the best was when my dear old grand mater said I wasn’t living up to my namesake. Um, hello? It’s like, have you ever heard of hedonism at all? Not all pleasure is inherently sexual! I would know! I’m the ding dang Goddess of Pleasure, for goddesses sake! Gods, it is SO on brand for Venus to say something like that. Aphrodite would never!”

Dite huffed, tucking her side bangs back behind her ears. Xander looked like he wanted to speak up; Jacqueline glared at him, making a silent shushing motion.

“Anyway,” Dite continued, her wings fluttering, a few feathers falling down. “I hoped that maybe with some casual friends it’d be better. They’d be more accepting, you know? But that was a mistake. When I told them I was ace and explained it to them, I got laughed at and called. Well. A baby. They thought the whole thing was hilarious, ridiculous; I tried my best to explain that it wasn’t but they were so caught up in the Roast of Hedone that they did not listen. They talked about sex things and when they used a term I didn’t know, I was told ‘oh, don’t worry, we’ll tell you when you’re older’.”

The Legates grimaced; someone hissed.

“Right? It was awful! After that experience, I confided in another friend of mine, who I was very close to. And they were so supportive and accepting and it was so nice! But then it wasn’t. It was all kind of misunderstanding questions, which is fine, you know, I’m all for educating people on various sexual and gender identities, so I was more than happy to clear up any asexual misconceptions they may have had! But then it was like, if I cracked a sex joke they’d be like ‘haha, I didn’t expect THAT from YOU given that you’re ACE!’ I mean, come ON. Just because I don’t experience sexual attraction doesn’t mean I’m not going to leap at the opportunity to make a good that’s what she said joke, right?”

“Oh my god, yeah!”

“Totally!”

“Thank you! GODS it was so FRUSTRATING,” Dite said, blinking tears out of her eyes and clenching her fists. “They kept making comments like that, and it hurt! A lot. But I think what hurt the most was when they outed me to a bunch of mutual pals. And I was RIGHT THERE!” Dite said angrily, gesturing angrily in front of her, hands splayed. “And they just said it like it was nothing! As if being ace was meaningless compared to coming out as gay or trans or non-binary. And don’t get me wrong, coming out as queer in any way shape or form is hard. I don’t want to dismiss the struggles others have had. But so is coming out as ace. It isn’t any less hard as any other queer identities.”

"I hope that friend isn't your friend anymore," Charlie said, darkly.

"They're not," Dite said. "And I miss them! A lot! But someone outing you is a hard thing to forgive and forget."

"Especially when there's fire involved," Jacqueline said.

Dite chuckled. She sighed, closing her eyes tightly. “I stopped coming out, after that. I didn’t tell anyone else.” Her eyes snapped open. “And it’s been like, a growing fear the longer I stay in the closet. And every time I fought the shadows, all I saw were the only people I haven't told say all of those things back to me, but somehow meaner!”

“Us,” Spring asked without asking.

“Yeah,” Dite confirmed, sadly. “And even though I knew deep down that none of you would say or do things like the shadows were making me think, I couldn't be sure. Not with all of my past experiences.”

Wings droopy, Dite sniffled, wiping more wet off of her face with her forearm. Her hand got cold, suddenly; she looked down, blinking away tears, her heart (and wings) fluttering when she saw Jacqueline’s pale hand entwined in her tan one.

“I’m so sorry you had to deal with that,” Jacqueline said, voice heavy. She gazed up at the goddess, her eyes looking watery. “We’ve come a long way, but people are still spiteful and afraid of what they don’t understand.”

“Or just bigots,” Night added.

Dite gave a watery laugh; Jacqueline squeezed her hand. “That too.”

“And with how hyper sexualized ordibeing culture is?” Olivia said, looking cross. “Everyone is like, sex obsessed! It’s…” she searched for words, coming up empty.

“Yucky,” Myles said wisely.

“Yes! Exactly! It’s yucky,” Olivia agreed.

Dite’s wings gave a hopeful flutter.

“And the emphasis in most cultures on the nuclear lifestyle, and children,” Xander added. “It’s mind boggling. They don’t care about your sex life when you’re hetero, but the MOMENT you come out as anything but, let alone ace? It’s suddenly a Big Deal,” Xander said, angrily. “Dite, I need you to know something. It’s very important,” he continued, reaching over the table and placing his hand gently over top of Dite’s free hand. “You are not alone,” he began, looking right into her teary brown eyes. “I’m also ace! Ace and aro!” He said with a grin.

“Really?!”

Xander nodded. “Really! I’ve known about the label for years, but I’ve never felt the need to come out. Just knowing the terms existed and defined what I was feeling was good enough for me! It makes me feel like less of an outsider. And I hope that sharing this with you makes you feel far more welcome than anyone has ever been any time you’ve tried to express yourself. You are not alone, Hedone.”

“Yeah!” Myles said, shooting up in his seat so fast that the chair fell over. “This is an ace safe space!” he declared, hoping onto the table. “Safe ace space? I think that’s got a better ring to it,” he said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin, and yes, still standing on the table. "A safe space for aces! That's the one. Safe space for aces!" he declared again.

“Awwh, you guys,” Dite said, with a wobbly smile, her free hand on her heart. “You’re all so sweet, I’m… this means so much to me,” she admitted, “I can’t even find the words to express how much I…ah! Just! Ah!”

“You mean a lot to us,” Jacqueline said, grabbing Dite’s hand in both of hers now. “We love you for you, Dite. And we’re here for you! Listen,” she said, standing up from her seat and grabbing the goddesses head, turning it towards her. “If anyone, anyone, ever makes you feel that way again, or makes comments like those people did about you, I will freeze them right solid. Like, it’s on sight.”

“That’s very sweet Jacqueline, thank you,” Dite said with a soft smile.

“I would happily kill for you, Dite,” Jacqueline replied, earnestly.

“Okay, maybe tone down the murder, Jacqueline?” Spring asked.

“Never."

“We could also just disappear them for you,” Night said. “Right into the void,” he added.

“Night!” Spring chided.

“Ou yeah! You chuck someone into the void, you’re never seeing them again. Erases them right out of existence!” Day added, chipper.

“Day!” Spring chided again.

“Cleaner too,” Night added.

“Hang on a sec,” Myles interrupted, turning to face Xander now, yes, still on the table. “Aro? What’s that mean?”

“Aromantic! It’s the flipside of asexual,” Xander explained. "So while Asexual is little to no sexual attraction, Aromantic is little to no romantic attraction."

“THERE’S A WORD FOR IT?!” Myles shouted.

“Yes!” Dite said with a laugh. “Of course there is!”

“AND I’M ONLY JUST LEARNING IT?!"

"Apparently!"

"AMAZING!”

The other Legates laughed, Olivia gently pulling her brother down from the table. Dite smiled to herself; seeing the reactions of her friends be so positive? And warm? And knowing it wasn't just her? She found herself filled with so much warmth, hope and confidence! Those shadows had been wrong. Dead wrong.

And Dite couldn’t wait to pummel them the next time they tossed some casual aphobia her way.

---

[bsaka7]

19 and 10 :)

19. most disliked popular books?

coming for the haterisms right off the bat! okay this is recency bias but i finished gideon the ninth by tamsyn muir like three days ago and i absolutely hated it. tbh i have had moderate to good luck reading things based off the taste of my mutuals but this one... easily the book i hated the most this year so far, but i probably should have known that just going in lol. i disliked the goldfinch by Donna tartt (though this one gets two bonuses: 1) introducing me to the drama of Bennington college and 2) i vaguely remember what happened despite how little I enjoyed it). idk if it's that popular but i didn't like this side of paradise by scott fitzgerald. (these r all books I've ranked at or below a 2/5...but tbh most things are like a 2.5-3.5 for me).

10. do you have a guilty fav?

yeah. and unforch i talk about him all the time on here: i like brandon sanderson. i think i was stockholm-syndromed into it because my friend had me read the mistborn trilogy which i didn't particularly like but I'd finish each one and go oh shit now i have to read the next. and then i read the stormlight archives which i genuinely did like and can't wait for the fifth book!!! I think my friend was right that I had to read mistborn first. I hate wax&wayne tho for the record. i don't think he's a great writer but man am i invested now. and guilty about it!!!!

[reflectionsofgalaxies]

okay sex is nice and all but when someone REALLY cares about u they give u a back massage

[superchat]

I know you tend to post it when you're in a funk but I actually do really like the guro posts that you reblog on the occasion

Ohhh tyvm! :3 yeah it kinda helps me vent in a way. when im in a bad mood i dont care as much abt what i post and go "fuck it. reblag." i would post them more often when im in a good mood but im often either too shy abt it or feel bad for any followers who dont know to expect it,

Tbh, i dont like the ones where it looks like suffering is being pushed/forced on someone else, or if they look rlly unhappy abt it. like the "i want to see OTHERS hurt" but i moreso like the ones where i can self insert in a way or where im the recipient ig

[lyrefromthesea]

(Ignore this if this if u don’t want to do this) May I request something? I would love to see some masturbation headcanons about the pillars, while away on a mission for too long or just needy in general and their S/O is either ignoring/teasing them on purpose or just not available.

Take care and good night/day!

🌙

Male pillars x Reader - masturbating when you're away

author's note: i think i messed up Rengoku's part, the reader is sitting right in front of him. i sadly don't have time to change it, but i hope you'll still find pleasure reading his part.

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Gyomei x reader

content warning: nsfw, smut

Tengen:

• honestly, really doesn't masturbate often, he's together with four gorgeous people after all

• will only do it when he's on a long mission

• or after you teased him relentlessly, not because he's that desperate (he is), but to punish you.

the door was locked, your ear pressed against the wood separating Tengen and you. he had locked himself inside, not going to accept your teasing any longer.

"your fault, darling." he moaned, refusing to let you in. you could hear the slick sound of his hand moving up and down his cock.

truthfully, he would've almost felt embarrassed showing it to you, your teasing touches and words now made his irritated cock oversensitive.

"maybe next time you wanted to fuck, you could've just told me.." he groaned, the sound making warmth spread to your lower body.

yes, this was his way of punishing you, he just didn't expect to hear you moan on the other side of the door, deciding to make him taste his own medicine.

he squeezed the base of his cock tightly, trying to prevent himself from cumming. shit, he didn't know you would pull this kind of stunt on him.

Obanai:

• not the kind of person to masturbate because he feels the need to

• probably started when he fell in love with you and wanted to feel your body against his

• would never tell you what happened behind closed doors

"s- shit.." he gasped, hand steadily stroking his dick. he didn't think his day would end like this, but his body reacted involuntarely when you two interacted.

it wasn't much, you just needed to get past him and squeezed your body past his. however, feeling your chest press against his own send his mind reeling.

he had immediately hurried home, locking himself up to take care of his problem. however, he couldn't stop thinking of you - your touch.

"i just want you.." he moaned, trying to let his frustration out. naturally, his movements got more rough, making his poor cock twitch from the overstimulation.

"damn it..!" he cursed, pulling his hand away with a whimper. he felt pathetic, but couldn't stop either.

was it so hard to just talk to you already?

Rengoku:

• this man doesn't masturbate at all. (not really, but y'know what i mean.)

• weirdly enough, would probably do it if you ask him

• mutual masturbation? he'll do it

"i didn't.. i didn't think it would feel this good.." he panted, hand trying to match the rhythm you were using on yourself. his eyebrows were furrowed, sweat making hair stick to his head.

"do you feel g- good too?" he asked, lips parted - he felt like hyperventilating otherwise.

his eyes were trained on your hands, watching the way you were playing with yourself. something about seeing you like this - needy and desperate - managed to get him so much harder.

however, your hands faltered, watching him stroke his dick, making you slowly forget about moving. you were entranced by his moans, often harmonizing with yours.

"h- hey! you need to keep going t- too.." he moaned, snapping you out of your trance. you started moving your hands again, moaning at the familiar feeling of pleasure.

who knew masturbating like this could be this erotic? perhaps you should introduce him to other ideas in bed too.

Sanemi:

• does jack off every now and then, it was like that before he met you already

• will always prefer sex with you if he has the chance, masturbating is his last resort

• mostly on missions, somehow always turns it rough

the message he received from you - delivered from a small crow - was meant to be innocent.

when you wrote about how you missed his touch, you refered to the times the two of you would sit together and cuddle or lay in bed. it's not your fault he interpreted it differently.

for him your message felt like an endless tease, clouding his mind with the thoughts of your shared intimacy. naturally, being the man he was, he was pissed.

"y- you little.." he groaned, burying his head in the pillow right next o him. he didn't need the people next door hearing him jack off.

"when i get back and your needy little ass won't be there- fuck!" his groans turned louder, the movement of his hand turning even rougher.

life was unfair, he was fucking horny because of you and you weren't even there to take responsibility for it. he could only thrust into his hand, pretending it was you.

"i'll fuck you, j- just you wait.." he spoke, already having forgotten that he had wanted to be silent. his thoughts were completely on you, imagining the way he would take you when he came back home.

and truthfully, you knew this was going to happen, didn't you?

Giyuu:

• nearly never touched himself before meeting you, it skyrocketed with your relationship

• will not touch himself while he's away

• turns into a whining mess when you're the one going away

"[name], [name], [name]..!" he chanted, eagerly bucking into his hand. it's only been four days, but he was desperate to be in your arms again - to hold you in his arms.

he had tried to stay civil at first, going on about his day, but after the second night of being alone, he found himself sleeping on your side of the bed, breathing in the remains of your sweet scent.

he didn't want to get hard from it, he really didn't, it just happened. it was too late to stop when he realized what he was doing, already grinding against the mattress.

"i want to cum, i want to cum so bad.." he gasped, whines leaving his lips with every thrust of his cock. his knees were pushing his lower body up, left arm holding his upper body up.

he knew it was lewd, that others would probably laugh at him for behaving like this, but he was in need of your presence.

"gonna cum for you, gonna cum for you.. s- so hard.." he whimpered, not noticing how the front door opened.

you would return today, but blinded by his feelings, he had completely forgotten.

well, at least the sight of his shaking body would be a nice surprise for you.

Gyomei:

• truthfully, nearly doesn't masturbate at all

• will probably do it while being away for a mission for a long time

• would probably feel guilty after thinking of you during such a lewd act

"ah, [name].." he muttered, strong hand wrapped around his shaft. his head was dipped down, eyes closed in concentration.

he had been masturbating for a while now, his cock twitching in hand. he was close, the sound of your voice lingering in his mind. the melodic sound of your laugh always managed to bring him closer to ecstacy.

"i hope you can forgive me for this, darling.." he groaned, trying to keep his voice down. he climaxed silently, knowing that people were staying in the room next door.

he felt his cum ooze out silently, his other hand covering his mouth. he had to stay in an inn for this mission, but other people had rented rooms in this place.

he opened his eyes slowly, his lips parted to take deep breaths. he knew you probably wouldn't mind, but he still felt guilt bubble up in him.

[sleep-0-deprived]

can i ask for the yan!roommate's reaction to the reader finding the camera in the bathroom and purposefully jacking off in front of it?

just found out about this blog and i am already hyped we need more subby yans in the world

Yandere roommate imagines (sub Yandere oc) ~!

A/N so the Yandere is just a random Oc you can imagine it as whoever I just needed a name for the fic! And you’re totally right there aren’t nearly enough sub Yandere as I’d like <33

Imagine you just got home from the gyms and all you wanna do is get into your shower you don’t have many other thoughts in your brain, you would have used the shower at the game but you have a “problem”~ between your legs and you knew you had to get home.

Imagine, you’re stripping your clothes cutting the hot water on as the mirror begins to fog up, your cock pressing to your stomach with precum oozing from the slit as you step in the shower running your fingers through your hair letting out a quiet grunt. You notice something from the corner of your eye when you’re looking up at the shower head, confused you reach for it picking it up you realize it’s a camera.

Imagine you already know who put the camera there I mean how could you not? There was only one man you knew creepy enough to wanna watch you shower and that was you’re roommate, and you know you felt a little generous you thought since you were already hard why not give him a show.

Imagine you sit the camera on a bath shelf and start speaking “I know you’re watching me Lucas” you grin as you bend down a little making sure your face was in full view as you use one hand to run down giving your pec a firm squeeze before gripping at your shaft giving one long stroke. On the other end of the camera Lucas sat in his room in the shared apartment nearly going feral when he sees your hand on your cock.

Imagine his face all red laying originally across his bed he soon gets up hurriedly trapping his laptop making sure the door was locked as he shakily grips the device for dear life feeling himself already aroused by the sight of you touching yourself, wanting nothing more than for your cock to be stuffed inside him as he rubs himself up against his matress letting out a few whines of desperation.

Imagine your hand holding your cock pointed straight at the camera giving him the perfect shot of your veins pulsing beneath your fingers while you bite at your bottom lip “didn’t know u had a total creep of a roommate, Lucas?~” you coo hazily standing in the shower the water running down your body down past your thighs with a few heaves meanwhile Lucas on the other hand wasn’t nearly as calm.

Imagine his hands fumbling with his zipper sitting the laptop on his bed as he pulls his boxers down placing the laptop on his pillows in front of his face as he drools, two fingers shoved between his lips with him laying on his stomach removing his fingers with them all coated in spit as he presses them to his rim pressing one finger in moving it in sync with your hand imagining it was your cock inside him as adrenaline fills his head making his body numb to the pleasure only becoming more infatuated with you each second as he murmurs out “y-es~” over and over.

Imagine when you cum you make sure your cock head is pointed directly at the camera lens, wanting him to see your red, angry looking tip when you climax. Your body tensing up intentionally not letting him see the face you make when you orgasm, only attempting to further tease your roommate with what he can’t seem to fully grasp hold of, which is you. “Hope you enjoyed my little show Lucas”

Imagine when Lucas sees that he’s in a whole other world of need, if he was feral before it was like he was a rabbit in the middle of heat because he pulled his hands away from himself with a little gasp while getting up not even bothering to turn his computer off, pouncing on you as soon as you make it to your bedroom with his brain all fuzzy and fast from your menacing taunts pulling your towel off.

Imagine your night ending with your roommate on top of you his thighs straddling you with his hands gripping your shoulders tightly mewling his lips all parted wide and his eyes half lidded and rolled back glossed over while he erratically lifts himself over and over again riding you harshly even when he feels like his rim is on fire from being stretched so long, you give his ass cheek a slap punching the ref handprint grumbling in his ear “this was what you wanted right?” As you hold his hip tightly grounding yourself deeper inside him pressing to his prostate roughly “then take it Lucas”

[sp4ceboo]

Atonement: Feyd-Rautha x Reader

A/N: fic i wrote with @triluvial 's lovely idea

tw: 18+, smut but pretty soft, oral (f recieving), so so so so much angst, fluff after tho dw, swearing, hints of sa and pedophilia from the baron, baron is also creepy to reader but not explicitly, u gotta bear with my yapping in the beginning but it gets good i promise, inkpie

wc: 3.9k

headcanons for this universe

When you married Feyd-Rautha, you were warned of many things. His cruelty, both in and out of the bedroom, his bloodlust, his uncontrollable rage, his violence, his complete and utter lack of mercy. They told you he was psychotic, he was a cold blooded murderer, he was insatiable and that you’d be lucky to last a year with him, and yet, they never cautioned you of his sheer, unerring indifference.

Before your marriage, you fancied that he’d be like fire; raging, searing to touch. You went as far as to wish to tame his inferno. Late at night, when you could not sleep and doubt wreathed your thoughts, you also considered that he’d be like ice, like the colour of his piercing eyes, glacial and cold, devoid of anything soft or sweet.

As a child, you saw him fight in the arena. There he blazed with passion, his victor’s smile a cruel curve upon his face, his knife blade stained dark with fresh blood: he was mesmerising. At that time you were beginning to understand that your future had been sold to this violent man, and you resented your parents for it - now you realise that it went deeper than that, that it was rooted in generations of religion, of whisperings of the Bene Gesserit. Still, even then, you found the way he burned intriguing, and you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

But you were wrong. He turned out to be neither fire nor ice, just stingingly, dismissively apathetic. His eyes slide right over you when he happens to pass you in the corridors, as if you’re lower than a servant, lower than the rare rats that survive Giedi Prime’s conditions. You suspected your marriage would be painful, wedded to a man such as he was, but you didn’t think it would be this damn lonely.

You wished he hated you.

That way, at least you’d mean something to your husband. At least then vehement, savage emotion would rise within his gaze whenever he looked at you, not that horrible, polarising blankness. You wish you disgusted him, because then he’d at least he’d speak his mind - you had learnt that he spoke with brutal honesty, uncaring of the consequences.

Maybe to him, that’s all you are. A consequence of being high born, of being the na-Baron. You mean nothing to him, and he treats you as such; to him, you are less than the speck of dust on the floor, less than a grain of sand in his beloved arena.

It’s not that you wish for him to dote on you, nor love you or devote himself to you. You just wish he would look you in the eye and feel something; you’d rather him stare at you in revulsion and call you names that you can’t even think up yourself than the dead, lifeless detachment that clouds his face when he sees you in your shared chambers.

Feyd-Rautha has never laid a hand on you in violence; in fact he rarely touches you at all. The last, and only time he kissed was during the wedding day, and he makes no moves to be in bodily contact with you any more than he has to be. You are obliged to produce an heir from him, yet even in these infrequent encounters it seems as if it is a chore for him - he takes no pleasure in your body nor does he try to pleasure you, and he makes no sound when he takes you, staying as long as it takes for his seed to fill your womb before leaving without a word. On those nights, your thighs tremble as you stumble to the bathroom, only allowing your tears to fall once the shower water is searing on your skin.

During the first month of your marriage, you did everything in your power to please him. You thought maybe you weren’t pretty enough for him, maybe you were not desirable as a wife, so you always smiled at him, made an effort to fill the silence that pervaded the air around him, bringing up topics you knew he would enjoy, like the arena, like his love for knives and duels. To even that he would not reply, rebutting your questions with monosyllables or simply ignoring you. You stopped once he began to leave the room while you were mid sentence.

It is now your fourth month locked in this marriage with an uncaring man, and all you feel is bleak, crushing resignation. Somehow, Feyd-Rautha seems to take more interest in conversing with his brother than you.

You wonder if he has forgotten your name. He addresses you simply as ‘wife’ - that, and nothing more, the title leaving his lips like an accusatory curse, reminding you that if you did not serve a purpose to him, and if decorum did not restrain him, he’d have disposed of you by now, either by slitting your throat or simply abandoning you outside the palace grounds, not even bothering to end you himself.

The palace in question is lonely, but you feel the loneliest when you lay awake at night, shivering on your side of the bed as Feyd-Rautha slumbers to your right. Tears always prick your eyes during those moments, but you stifle them, afraid that you’ll rouse him with your crying; you do not know what you’ve done to garner his mistrust, but many times you’ve glimpsed the knife he keeps beneath his pillow, the cold blade glinting in the moonlight.

Often you wonder if he has a secret lover, and that is why he does not bother with you. You wake up sometimes and he is gone, but soon you realised that he would visit his concubines, especially after he had bred you. You would finish your shower, unable to wash off the feel that you were dirty, you were just an animal, a mindless thing to produce an heir for him, and he would be lounging in the antechambers of your quarters, ignoring your presence with the three harpies wrapped around him, whispering in his ears and caressing his moonlight skin. They accompanied him everywhere he wished, even in public, and to begin with, you felt humiliated that he would so explicitly show that you were not to his satisfaction.

Now, it just makes the solitude even worse.

You find solace in no one. More than once, you have walked in on the servants laughing behind your back, and as it became evident your husband was uninterested in you, they did not hide their mocking. The Baron’s other nephew you hardly saw, and the Baron himself terrified you: there was something in the way that he stared at you, his beady eyes glittering from where they were set deep within his putrid flesh, that made you feel more soiled than even after Feyd-Rautha took you.

So you remain isolated, speaking only when spoken to, drifting through the palace’s wide, dark hallways like a ghoul, a mourning spectre. You can barely remember your life before, just wisps and fleeting flashes of colour that ridicule rather than comfort you.

To Feyd, it is obvious who you are. A spy, commanded by his uncle to report every single one of his doings to you; he cannot slip up once around you, cannot reveal his weaknesses, that he is desperate to be loved, to be seen as someone whose only use is not war. He sees the way his uncle looks at you, hungry for information you do not have because he does not impart it, the way the Baron comments on you and the way you flinch at his words, pretending that you do not report to him.

Feyd is determined in his resolve to give nothing away. His uncle has held power over him since he was young, he refuses to give him even an inch over him now. He still has nightmares of it, which he wakes up from with his pale skin sheened in clammy sweat, clammy like the hands of his uncle.

Sometimes, he sees the tears in your eyes after he fucks you. The first time, he almost stopped, almost asked you where it hurt, but you turned away before he could, acting, always acting; acting when you smile graciously at him, acting when you ask him what his favourite type of blade is, what his favourite form of swordsmanship is. You are good at pretending, but of course you are - his uncle is the Baron, a man who bathes in power. No doubt he would get only the best of spies.

Tonight, you are not where you normally are. At this hour, you are usually asleep, or feigning it in the very least, curled up small on your side of the mattress, yet the bed is still made, the sheets unrumpled and smoothed down as they were this morning. Feyd thinks that maybe he might catch you reporting to his uncle, so he strides out of your shared chambers, pausing in the doorway to listen carefully; as a boy, he hunted in forests that have now been chopped down and industrialised, but he has maintained his keen ears long after the last wild plant on Giedi Prime’s surface choked on the fumes of pollution.

There’s a soft noise, barely perceptible, that echoes down the corridor to his right. Silently, he tracks it down the labyrinthine passages of the palace, servants scurrying out of his warpath, bowing their heads to him - he wonders if they too report to his uncle, if they travel now to his quarters to inform him of his beloved nephew’s whereabouts.

Feyd wishes he and Rabban were brothers first before rivals. Then he could have someone to rely on, someone who he trusted in this palace built on lies.

Pausing, Feyd cocks his head. You huddle in a crumpled heap at the end of the corridor, your knees hugged tightly to your chest, head low as if under a crushing weight. It occurs to him that maybe the Baron was displeased with your efforts to gain information and made it known to you - a pang of pity tugs at him, for he knows what his uncle’s wrath is like. At least you have been spared from the sole thing worse than that - the Baron’s thirst.

‘What are you doing, wife?’

Your head snaps up, Feyd-Rautha’s unfeeling voice kindling a rare burst of temper from you. Is it not evident to him what you are doing? Or is he just too blind to see the tears streaking down your cheeks? Your words are injected with venom when you speak, and you hope that it stings him for leaving you alone in this cold, dark place.

‘So now I am of concern to you?’

Feyd is taken aback by the indignant arch of your brows, the resentment displayed in your eyes. It takes him a moment to register the harshness lacing your voice - you have never addressed him in this way - and another to digest your words. There’s a bleakness in your wet, tear stained face as you stare up at him, and shock too, as if you did not expect yourself to speak against him this way.

Something clicks into place.

Feyd recognises that look in your eyes. He recognises it, because he’s seen it in the mirror a hundred times before; haunted, harrowed, lonely. He remembers nights when he trembled beneath the cold sheets of his bed, when he was small enough that he felt like he was drowning in the black satin, his eyes wide as the fabric seemed to wend around his limbs, tying him there as he lay fearful of everyone, fearful that his uncle would summon him. Even young, he was so terribly aware of not knowing who he could trust and who would turn to the Baron, bearing information like knives to split open his childish skin and spill his guts on the freezing stone floor.

It broke him. He is barely a shell of a sentient being, repressed emotions wreathing like ghosts around his frame, his eyes hollow, his heart decaying. In his fear, he was blinded, and he pushed you to the place where he had been all those years ago, so terribly, terribly alone - you are stronger than him, for lasting this long.

Sharp, plunging, dread sinks in his stomach, weighs down his soul; he has done unspeakable things to you, treated you like a dog, like a whore - worse. How can you look at him without hatred in your eyes, spite?

Bile rises in his throat, his heart seized by a dark, burning anger. He has done this to you, he has slashed your skin and left you bleeding, and yet all you did was try to please him. In an effort to save himself, he trampled you under foot; in order to keep you out, he left you surrounded by shadows. Feyd has never hated himself so much, has never despised who he has become with this much furor.

Slowly, he crouches before you. Eyes wide, you shrink away, misreading the direction of his rage, flinching when he reaches out a hand. Pressing your back against the wall behind you, you turn your head away from him, fear causing tears to spill down your cheeks: he sees the way you will the stone to swallow you up, knows the feeling.

‘Please don’t hurt me,’ you choke out, hands trembling uncontrollably.

Something deep within Feyd’s soul withers and dies at your words. Forcing his jaw to unclench, his hands to release the fists they held, he shoves down his anger. The fury is for later, for when he has made things right - for now it is you that is his priority. Too late, a voice whispers in his ears, too late, too late, too late -

Gods, he deserves to burn at the fucking stake for this. He deserves eternal hell for this, he deserves worse. He is a fool: a blind, blundering fool, stuffed to the brim with paranoia and cynicism.

He sucks in a breath. ‘I will not hurt you. You have my word, whatever it is worth to you. I - I have made an irredeemable mistake, I - ’

After his first sentence, you have not heard him. Tears of relief soak your face, and you whisper needless apologies for them; it is an arrow through his heart that you fear him so - yet the pain is where it is due, justifiable for the way he has shamed you, belittled you.

‘May I - may I touch you, my wife?’

You do not know why you nod in reply of your husband’s strange request, but the moment you do, strong arms pull you into a solid chest, and a sob leaves you - he is so warm, warm enough to banish the seeping cold embedded in your bones, warm enough to let your sorrow flow anew, soaking his shirt as your hands bunch in its fabric, so that if he is cruel enough to leave you here, at least he will have to fight to do so. You have not been held in a long time.

Each of your shuddering sobs is a knife blade twisting in Feyd’s spirit. He lets the pain wash over him, clings to the way you burrow into his arms, a kind creature in the embrace of a monster. At one point, in the throes of your crying, you beat at his chest, telling him that you hate him, and he takes it with a bowed head, stroking your hair and holding you tighter once you exhaust yourself; this is only a fraction of his atonement.

You fall asleep in his arms. He carries you back to your quarters, and only once the door is closed behind him does he let his tears mingle with yours. Keeping you cradled to his chest like a child, he pours a glass of water for you to drink in the morning, knowing you will be dehydrated; he sets it on your bedside table before laying you down on the mattress.

You don’t let go of him, even in your sleep. His heart clenches, tight in his chest, and he drops a kiss in your hair before lying down beside you.

He believes he will love you, if you will let him.

Consciousness leaks slowly into your mind, and you blink, squinting through the beam of light that filters in through the curtains. From your months spent here, you’ve realised that Giedi Prime’s atmosphere is normally churned up with violent storms and choked with pollution, so this ray of sun that falls against your pillow, warming your face is far from unwanted - nor is the pale forearm tucked around your waist, firmly so, but not trapping you either.

Your husband’s chest fits snugly against your back, his breath warm and steady against your skin; his fingers splay out across your stomach, gentle, communicating so many things that were left unsaid. Vaguely, you remember falling asleep, nestled against his chest, tears drying on your cheeks.

When you roll over, you’re unsurprised that he’s already awake. With blue eyes softened by the sunlight, he regards you, fingers settled at the small of your waist. Something clouds his gaze, and he shifts, propping himself up on his elbows.

‘I owe you an explanation.’

You wait silently, unperturbed by the way he clenches his jaw. He vowed to you last night that he would not hurt you, and you trust that. Wordlessly, his lips open, then close, and you patiently watch him, far too well acquainted with how this man struggles to let down his guard - even now, you cannot read the twisting of his features, the way his eyes squint as he looks at you.

‘I - I thought you were a spy sent by my uncle,’ he finally confesses. ‘My uncle… when I was younger, he,’

Reaching out, you cup his jaw in your hand, running your thumb along his cheekbone until he relaxes. You see the battle in his eyes, to let go, to tell you the knowledge that he thinks you deserve, but you see with it the years of hurt, of solitude. Something hopeful, something beautiful blossoms within you - the realisation that this wounded beast before you is someone that you could grow to love; you want him to bare his scars to you, those that are long healed and those that still seep with blood.

‘All in good time, Feyd,’ you assure him quietly.

He sighs, touches his lips against your palm. ‘I am sorry, my wife.’

Slipping your hand down to grip his shoulder, you lean closer towards him so you can kiss him. An anguished sound leaves him, and you see clearly how he realises that he has wronged you, how it pains him, and yet how the taste of you awakens something tender within him - you marvel at it, that it has survived, buried within him for so long. Perhaps he will let you love him.

Feyd is neither forward nor insatiable in the way he kisses you. In fact, he pulls away first, moving to get up from the bed despite the way your hands grip his shoulders, and you almost doubt that he wants you before you glimpse the longing in his eyes that lingers before he pushes it down. You wonder if this man knows how to make love or if he just knows how to fuck, you wonder if he feels the same molten feeling in his stomach that you feel and that is why his movements are tinged with nerves as he gently escapes your grasp. It is clear to you: he does not want to scare you.

‘Must you go?’ You ask, tugging at his fingers.

He tilts his head. ‘I don’t know if you want me here, after what I have inflicted upon you.’

A streak of bravery takes ahold of you. ‘Please, Feyd, I want you.’

You delight at the fire that ignites in his eyes upon your words. He wastes no time in returning to your side, dropping a sweet tasting kiss to your lips before taking your chin in his hand, eyes searching yours as he sits between your thighs.

‘Tell me if you want to stop,’ he says. ‘Yes?’

‘Yes,’ you echo, blood heating your cheeks.

Feyd kisses you again, giving you time to rescind your reply if you want, but you just tug at the hem of his shirt, drinking in his sculpted chest when he pulls the black cloth over his head. Delicately, he trails his lips down your skin as he undresses you, his broad hands warm where they encircle your waist, holding you flush to him as his calloused palms explore your body, skimming over your spine and caressing your breasts before settling on your thighs and pulling them open.

You’re terribly aware of how wet you are when his eyes settle on your pussy. Instinctively, your knees tip inwards, your face growing hot at the hunger in his gaze, but his broad shoulders block your legs from closing, followed closely by his hands which gently push them back open. He smiles at the blush high on your cheeks, rubbing his thumb over your ankle in order to put you at ease.

The sound you make when he pushes his fingers into your cunt and curls them almost makes Feyd moan. You tremble for him, bashful, and he can feel himself rock hard against the mattress, aching for the tight clamp of your velvet walls. He wants to bury himself between your thighs, and so he does, your sweet slick exquisite on his tongue - he presses kisses like butterflies to your thighs, your hips, worshipping you as his fingers pump in and out of you to the same pace as your heaving chest.

You look beautiful, gilded by the sunlight, lower lip trapped between your teeth, but he doesn’t miss the way you grip the sheets with one hand, the other clapped over your mouth, panting as he pleases you. Stroking your thigh, he pauses, licking your slick off his lips.

‘Let me hear you,’ he bids.

You blush again but obey him, tremors wracking your body as he sucks on your clit, laving his tongue over it until you throw your head back, eyes rolling as you come, your honeyed moans and hot release exquisite upon his senses. He wants more, needs more of the taste of you, but you tug at his shoulders, whining for his cock, and he’d rather die than deny you.

The way you say his name when he buries himself inside you sets his soul on fire. You look beautiful beneath him, shaking and whimpering from the hot pulse of his length, clawing at his shoulders until he wears red marks that he’s proud to bear, moaning into his mouth when he kisses you. It seems you cannot get enough of him, and Feyd is more than fine with that because he finds himself addicted to the feel of you under his hands, begging him for more.

Feyd remains entranced long after he comes inside you, with you, your cunt spasming around him. You draw close to him, intertwining your legs with his as he kisses your face, your neck, your chest, making sure he has not hurt you, making sure you are sated. Curling your fingers under his jaw, stopping him, you look him in the eye and smile before kissing him, and he finds himself mesmerised again by you.

He is certain you will let him love you. He is yours.