#and why he still has his hair well its simple

[watchmegetobsessed]

OLD GRUDGES (part 4)

A/N: it took me foreverrrr to finish this, but at last its here and thats what matters!! this is the final part of this mini series, hope you guys enjoyed their dynamic

WORD COUNT: 4.7k

SUMMARY: Harry and Y/N go way back. Working together was like a dream when 1D was still going strong. Now, years later, when they end up working together again, things are very different. Mostly because Y/N seems to be hating Harry passionately. But he has not idea why.

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

The past two days Harry has questioned quite a few times whether he somehow ended up in a parallel universe or maybe someone has been playing a very sick joke on him. Either way, he wants it to never end.

Y/N hasn't left his house since the night of  the break-in. In fact, she barely left… his arms, his bed… his mind. Not that he is complaining, waking up to Y/N in the morning, having breakfast with her, showering with her, spending the day just coexisting, always spending time together have been his personal piece of heaven. It’s been quite a sudden change, but he would quite literally do anything to keep it this way for as long as possible. 

Today they are forced to leave their cocoon though. Y/N has to go to the police to do some paperwork about the break-in, though there hasn’t been any news about the case unfortunately, then later they have to hit up the studio for a session. But at least the morning is theirs. 

When Harry steps out of the bathroom in a pair of sweatpants and a simple white t-shirt his hair is still damp as he makes his way around the bedroom, digging through his dresser for a pair of socks and plugging his charger into his phone before he walks out, heading into the kitchen where he knows Y/N is already sipping on her morning coffee just like she was yesterday and the day before. She made herself home quite fast, but he doesn’t mind. Actually, he loves the thought of his home as a trustworthy place for her as well, where she feels confident enough to do whatever she wants or take whatever she needs. 

Sitting by the dining table, her legs are pulled underneath her, the coffee is still steaming in the red mug she silently chose for herself to use during her stay. She is scrolling through probably some news page on her phone, playing with the hem of her (his) sweatshirt. 

“G’Morning,” Harry smiles as he enters, though they only separated about fifteen minutes ago when Harry left her in bed to shower. 

“Hi.” Her face brightens at the sight of him and it clutches his heart every time. 

As strange as the movement might have been just a week ago, now it feels as natural as breathing when Harry walks past her and presses a kiss to the top of her head before continuing his path to the kitchen to pour himself some coffee as well. 

They drink it first, talking, checking emails, getting ready for the day and then the phones are put away as they make breakfast and eat, strictly only focusing on each other. It’s been their usual without ever agreeing on it. 

And Harry loves every moment of it. 

“Do you want me to go to the station with you?” Harry asks over their now empty plates. 

“No,” she shakes her head. “It’s fine, it’ll be quick. I’ll meet you at the studio.”

“Alright.”

Hugging her knees to her chest, she is staring out the window that faces the sunny backyard while Harry’s eyes are glued to her face. While she is seemingly lost in her own thoughts, Harry’s mind gets into a spiral on his own. He’s been dancing on the edge of a burning question, but hasn’t found the right moment to ask it and quite honestly, he’s also afraid it might ruin their little bubble as well, so he’s been hesitant to bring it up. But it keeps nudging the back of his head whenever he gets lost in his whirlwind feelings for her. 

What are we actually doing?

The amount of unsaid things and changes that happened lately are starting to pile up and he knows they need to address them sooner or later. It’s not just about the past few days, but what’s been happening even before the break-in. Their dynamic had shifted immensely, but they never talked about what it all means. Now they act like a couple, share a bed, kiss, touch, have sex and talk like it’s completely normal and expected when just a few weeks ago they were ready to murder each other over the tiniest disagreement. 

Her phone buzzes on the table and reaching for it she turns it over to check the screen.

“I better start getting ready,” she sighs. Harry just nods as he watches her stand up, she brings her plate and mug to the dishwasher and then heads back to the bedroom, brushing her hand over his shoulder as she walks past. A gentle move, but it bears so much for Harry. 

Being apart from Y/N almost feels wrong. After she leaves to the station Harry runs a few errands, picks up a package and then heads to the studio, only thinking about whether she’s alright or not. He keeps checking his phone, hoping for a text or a call from her, like a lovesick puppy. Somewhere deep down he knows that he shouldn’t feel this deeply for her at this point, when everything seems fragile and ready to spill any moment, but he just can’t find the will in himself to care and do something about it. 

When she finally texts him that she’s on her way, he can finally breathe as relief washes over him. He tries to busy himself and not stare at the door, waiting for her to walk in, though he kind of fails. Miserably.

“Hi,” she greets him walking into the studio and Harry practically jumps to his feet as if his chair was on fire.

“How did it go?” He asks, his hand twitching to reach out to touch her, but he decides against it at last. She drops her bag onto the sofa that’s pushed against the wall before puffing out a sigh as she turns to face him.

“Nothing extra. Actually, nothing. I mean, they know absolutely nothing, there are no clues, nothing. Whoever did it was a genius and made sure to leave no trace behind.”

“How is it possible that they have zero clues? There must be something, a fingerprint, footage, anything.”

“There were a few fingerprints, but no match came up, so it’s useless at this point.”

“So then what happens now?”

“The case stays open for a bit, thes keep working on it, but honestly, I feel like there’s no point. They won’t find anything so I’ll just have to move on.”

“And go back to your place?” Harry asks. Part of him is panicking by the thought of letting her go back there on her own and then the other one because he doesn’t want her gone. He’s selfish and wants to keep her with him at all times, he is not ready to pop the bubble they’ve been living in the past days. 

“I can’t camp at your place forever.” Her words and face say different things. Because the way she is smiling at him as they both take seats tells him that she might actually like the idea of staying with him.

And he likes it too. 

“Let’s just put this all aside, okay? I want to work and forget all this shit.”

“Okay,” Harry nods. 

It’s easy for them to slip into work and leave everything else behind as music takes over their mind. It’s their first time working together since the shift between them and it appears that the change hasn’t been only affecting their private dynamic, but their professional as well, luckily in the best way possible. It is as if they could sense each other’s thoughts, they barely even have to communicate when they want to change something, the other just knows, just like how quick they share new ideas, barely saying a few words before the other is already making it happen. 

“As much as I would love to keep going, I think we should call it a night,” Harry turns his phone’s screen towards her so she can see how late it is now. Almost ten pm, they’ve been working for hours and now that Harry noticed just how long they’ve been here, they both can feel how tired they actually are. 

“Alright, alright. I’ll finish this when we get home then. I really want to get it done.” Sighing she shuts her computer and while she packs her stuff scattered around the studio, Harry is trying his best not to point out how she referred to his place as home. 

But the pleased smirk that’s hiding in the corners of his mouth is kind of a tell what he is thinking about. 

She rests her head on his shoulder in the back of the car on the drive home and once again, Harry selfishly ignores the urge to talk about their current state and just enjoys her closeness. Walking into the house he heads to the kitchen to make a tea for them both while she sits by the dining table to finish up the editing she started in the studio. They are talking and joking around and Harry can’t wait to drag her into the bathroom for a shower once she is done.

He is scrolling on his phone with his tea in his other hand when he can sense the change. He feels it before she says anything. 

Looking up he can tell she is tense, her body appears frozen as she is staring at her computer. 

“Everything alright?” he asks, tilting his head to the side, but she doesn’t answer, just starts vigorously typing and opening things on the computer. 

“No, no, no, this can’t be happening again,” she whispers as Harry slowly approaches her.

“Y/N, what’s the matter?”

“It’s… No, no!” she chokes, jumping to her feet, looking more anxious than he has ever seen her. Harry tries to lean closer to have a look at the screen, but she practically pushes him back, grabbing the laptop from the table. 

“Don’t fucking touch it!”

“What the fuck is going on?” Harry asks, now starting to lose his mind over not knowing what the problem is, what caused her to act this wild all of a sudden.

“It’s not there! They are all gone!”

“What’s gone? Did you not save what we recorded today? It’s okay, we can–”

“No! I’m not talking about what we did today! All of my unreleased songs! Everything I never gave away to the artists I worked with in the past year! They are all gone!” 

Her voice keeps switching from a whisper to shouting in just a matter of seconds as she is anxiously pacing the floor back and forth with the laptop still in her hands. 

“What do you mean gone?” Harry asks, still pretty puzzled about what’s going on.

Then Y/N stops and the look she gives him sends a shiver down his spine. It’s as if she has turned into a whole different person in the past few seconds. 

“Did you do it?” she asks in a tone that without a look of her expression would sound normal, but her eyes are bewildered and Harry’s pulse just keeps rising as he stares back at her.

“Do what?”

“Did you fucking take them? Huh? Was it you?!”

“Y/N, what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about what you already did once! Fuck’s sake I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you!” 

She storms past him, into the bedroom and Harry follows her, his anger mixing with confusion as he is trying to put the pieces together, with not much luck so far. When he catches up with her, she is throwing her stuff into her suitcase.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving!” she snaps. Harry tries to get closer and make her stop, but as soon as his hand reaches her shoulder, she jerks away. “Don’t touch me!”

“Y/N slow the fuck down and tell me what’s going on!” he pleads, his growing fear of having to watch her leave taking over his mind. 

“Don’t act like you have no idea! I really thought what happened then was a one time thing, I made myself believe that you were young, maybe someone influenced you! But it’s not the same now!”

“What the hell are you talking about?!”

“I’m talking about when you stole my fucking song! That’s what I’m talking about!”

Even though she just said it clearly, Harry is now even more lost about what’s happening. 

“Hold on! I stole your song? What the hell?!”

“Oh, don’t fucking act like you have no idea what I’m talking about,” she laughs bitterly as she keeps packing her things, like she is in a hurry to leave. “I really fooled myself into believing you changed, but this is proof you did not.”

“Y/N, I never stole anything from you! Would you stop packing and just talk to me?”

“How dare you say you never stole from me! Drop the fucking act, Harry! You know exactly what I’m talking about! Night Changes was my song, I showed it to you and then oh so conveniently I was not signed for the next album and the song was on it! Right after it disappeared from my computer!”

It takes time for Harry to even process her words. He is raking the deepest parts of his memory to put together what she is talking about and when his thoughts start to clear, she is already on her way out.

“Y/N wait!” He runs after her, catching up with her in the hallway. “I never stole Night Changes!”

“Then explain to me how the one song I showed you ended up on an album I never worked on?!” she snaps, suitcase still in her hand. “And explain how it happened again? I let you close and it happened again!”

“It looks fucking nuts, but it wasn’t me, Y/N, I promise!”

“We’ll see about that once the police have investigated this hell of a coincidence.”

That’s the last thing she says before walking out, leaving Harry in the eerily empty and silent house, with an actual hole in his chest. 

Y/N didn’t plan any of this. She did not plan the part where she got so close to Harry that his absence is now almost causing her actual physical pain, and definitely not the part where he betrayed her.

Again.

Or at least that’s where all the evidence is pointing. 

She shouldn’t have let him get this close to her, because now she wouldn’t feel this shitty and naive and mostly betrayed. 

She still remembers how it felt when she first listened to Night Changes just months after the file that had her version disappeared from her computer. She felt physically ill as she stared at the screen where a photo of the boys was shown but all she could look at was Harry in the picture. Part of her refused to believe that he had anything to do this, but her rational part won. There was no way he was innocent, he was the only person she showed the demo and then it was magically One Direction’s next hit. 

She despised Harry for using her in such a disgusting manner, he betrayed him in such an open and arrogant way, the song was getting popular and he must had known that she would hear it as well, but he did nothing. Absolutely nothing. 

For a long time she tried to put her disdain to the side and focus on her career, that’s why she agreed to work with him again. And also because there was a tiny sliver of hope somewhere deep down in her that still believed that Harry was innocent. 

She let that hope grow and her feelings for Harry as well, only to fall face forward again, ten times harder than before. 

Two days go by in a blur. She is back in her home but also tries to spend as little time there as possible, camping at friends’ and her sister’s place whenever she can. She tries to get her mind off of everything with work, but music seems to be betraying her as well, because somehow she always ends up thinking about Harry. 

He stopped blowing her phone up a few hours after their fight. She had like a million calls from him and messages filled with him begging for her to pick up the phone, but she ignored them all until they stopped. First thing in the morning she contacted her lawyer and she also gave the new information to the police as well. Harry might have not been the one who broke into her place, but it very much seems like he had something to do with the missing files. 

Then it’s radio silence and it kills her nerves. She finds herself often with her phone in her hand, her finger hovering over Harry’s contact, but she always talks herself out of contacting him. She knows she probably can never talk to him, ever. 

Another two days later is when her lawyer, Violet finally calls her with news. 

“So, good news, they actually know who broke into your house,” Violet announces and Y/N’s pulse jumps immediately.

“Really? Who was it?” she asks and all she can think about is how she hopes the person has nothing to do with Harry, even after everything. 

“Do you know a… Daryl Parker?” she asks, as if she’s reading the name off of a paper. Y/N’s eyes go wide.

“What? Daryl? The assistant?”

“Yeah, him.”

“But… how? And why?”

“Sweets, let’s meet at the station, they are expecting you in for some more paperwork and I have other news as well.”

“O-Okay.”

Y/N feels dizzy arriving at the police station, still not quite sure what to think of Daryl breaking into her home and possibly stealing her work. He did try to push her to give him more, but she never thought he would go this far just to get those songs. 

Violet is already there when Y/N walks in, waiting with an officer and the three of them move to a meeting room.

“So, Daryl Parker admitted that he broke into your house about a week ago and he was also the one who stole the files you told us about later,” the officer starts to explain the story, while he lays out a stack of paper in front of her that she has to sign. “While he was the one who did the dirty work, he is not the only one to blame.”

“Okay, then who?” she questions.

“Are you familiar with who Daryl’s boss is in the management company?” the officer asks and Y/N shakes her head no. She never actually met the guy, it was always Daryl who kept in contact with her, which at a point seemed weird, but she didn’t think much of it. 

“Daryl worked for Blake Finnegan,” Violet reveals and Y/N stares back at her as the puzzle pieces start to fit together slowly. 

“The guy who…”

“Yes, Blake from Modest, who worked with One Direction,” she confirms. 

Y/N finishes with the signing and pushes back the papers to the officer, thanking his work and he leaves them alone so they can debrief the rest of the story. 

“This was the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. Blake was the one who stole your work back then and then made sure you didn’t return for the next album so he wasn’t busted. Daryl wasn’t working for him back then, but he was given so much track record from the past that they were able to recover not just the files they stole now, but the ones from the past and the data shows that it was all originally created by you.”

Y/N’s mouth is going dry as she tries to keep up with Violet and all the information she is hearing. 

Blake was the culprit of it all. He stole her work before and he did it again, hidden behind Daryl so she didn’t suspect him. 

“Does this mean that Harry…”

“That Harry Styles didn’t steal shit from you?” she laughs. “Yeah. It was an unfortunate coincidence, though he will be questioned because he heard the song before, he should have recognized it.”

“Wait, he will be actually questioned? When?”

“Um,” Violet checks her watch. “He’ll be here in about a few hours.”

The room is spinning with her. Harry is going to come here and be interrogated about this whole ordeal. Now she knows he wasn’t the original bad guy here and that damn hope is back in her chest that he wasn’t involved at all.

“Is there… Is there any chance they will let me talk to him first?” Y/N asks, staring back at Violet’s, watching as her straight expression turns into a smile slowly.

It feels like Harry hasn’t slept in days. He has, of course, but not nearly enough he should have. And he knows exactly when his random insomnia started. 

Walking into the police station with his lawyer he is ready to tell them everything and anything. Well, that’s what he’s been doing already, so it’s not a change. 

When Y/N stormed out of his place panic set in first, he tried to call her, text her, he was ready to bang on her door to beg her to speak to him, though he is happy he didn’t do the latter. When he realized she was not going to talk to him, he went into solution mode. 

He already knew who was to blame, he couldn’t believe that Blake Finnegan was still haunting him even years after cutting all ties with him. He was always the shadiest person around and he had quite a few stunts even back then, so it’s no surprise he went as low as stealing music. 

The eerie feeling of being at a police station is strong in his gut, even though he knows he is innocent. They are welcomed by an officer and then led down the hallway towards a meeting room. 

“A colleague will be here shortly, Mr. Styles,�� he officer says as he opens the door for them. Harry just nods and steps into the room, taking one of the chairs around the small table in the middle. His lawyer is typing on his phone, pacing the floor back and forth as they wait and then the door finally opens again, but instead of seeing an officer walk in, it’s Y/N.

Harry’s stomach drops and he jumps to his feet instantly. 

“Y/N, hi!” he breathes out, looking at her frantically as if she was a ghost. 

“Hi. Can we talk?” she asks, her eyes landing on the lawyer beside Harry. “Alone.”

“I don’t think it’s–” the man starts to protest, but Harry is quick to stop him. 

“Leave us alone,” Harry says. The lawyer seems surprised and for a moment it seems like he will protest, but then he just takes a deep breath and walks out of the room. 

Once the door is closed behind him and it’s just the two of them, Y/N hesitantly takes the seat across the one Harry has been occupying.

“Did you… have anything to do with it?” she asks after a rather long pause. 

“No,” Harry answers instantly.

“For real?”

“Y/N, I would never steal your work or anyone else’s, really.”

“So then explain to me how this coincidence happened.”

Harry takes a deep breath and leans back in his seat.

“When we were in the band, we were always overworked. One album after the other with tours in between, I was… practically a zombie for most of the time. When Blake showed us the song, it was familiar, but I just never realized why. I’m not proud of it, but I just… never questioned it after. Not even after he said that you decided not to return for the next project.”

Y/N scoffs.

“I had no decision in that. I was just told that I wasn’t needed.”

“I know that now,” Harry breathes out. “But back then, I just let it go. And I’m so sorry for that, I should have recognized the song, I should have asked why you weren’t returning, I should have contacted you, so maybe… I’m not that innocent. I should have done all of these but I didn’t. I’m very sorry for them. But I never teamed up with Blake against you. I hated his gut.” He laughs bitterly. “I always had a bad feeling about him and I wanted off the team the first given moment.” 

Y/N can feel her throat closing up as she stares back at Harry, listening to his every word as if it really was an interrogation. 

“I never understood why you hated my guts,” he adds with another laugh. “I didn’t understand, because we were so close back then and when we met again you were… so different, but only towards me and you never told me why, not even when I asked you. I wish you told me about this, but I understand why you didn’t want to even… talk to me.”

“I thought you betrayed me,” she whispers, tears dwelling in her eyes. “You were the first person I trusted in the industry and I thought you straight up betrayed me.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I will do anything to get you the rights back on the song and I will pay you every penny you deserve for it.”

“I don’t care about the money,” she shakes her head. “Losing you was way more painful than losing the money I could have made from the song.” 

She takes a shaky breath and blinks up at the ceiling, a few tears rolling down her cheeks, but she is quick to wipe them away. Harry’s whole body is itching to stand up and go over to her, to hug her and be physically close to her, but he stays still.

“You know what’s funny?” she laughs through her tears. “I told myself that I accepted this project only for professional reasons, because it’s good for my career. But all along, I had this… hope inside me that I would find out that you had nothing to do with it and you’re still the same guy I fell for years ago.”

Harry’s heart skips a beat, lips parting at her words. She pauses and just keeps staring at Harry and he is just about to break the silence when she speaks up again. 

“I’m glad that hope turned out to be right.”

They start moving at the same time. The chairs screech as they are pushed back and they meet by the side of the table in a kiss that holds everything they never said but felt. It’s the kiss they should have shared years ago, it’s the kiss they should have shared when anger brought them together this time and it’s the kiss that resets everything in between. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he mumbles against her lips.

“I’m sorry too,” she whines, hands gripping his shirt for dear life.

“Let’s just stop being sorry, okay?” he chuckles, making her laugh as well as their kisses slow down. He rests his forehead against hers, arms curled around her frame tightly. “I missed you.”

“It’s been only like… four days,” she jokes, though she feels the same.

“Not just now. I missed you after you disappeared from my life before.”

Biting her bottom lip she leans back just enough so that she can look into his eyes. 

“Let’s leave our old grudges in the past. I want to move forward.”

Harry smiles at her warmly.

“I would love that.”

NEW: 

Harry Styles and Y/N Y/L/N spotted on an afternoon stroll in London -  Fans can’t wait for the singer’s new album he worked on with his rumored girlfriend

YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE: 

Meet Y/N Y/L/N, the talented music producer who did not only capture the industry but also Harry Styles’ heart as well

One Direction’s Night Changes hits the charts again after Y/N Y/L/N legally becomes owner of rights over the song a decade after its release

Investigation about Blake Finnegan continues - even more proof was revealed of all the shady business the former manager did

Female producers speak up about the struggles they face in the industry just days after Blake Finnegan was arrested

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb

[deadbeat-motel]

ᑕᕼEᖇᖇIᗷOᗰᗷ ᗩᑎᗪ ᔕIᖇᑭEᑎTIOᑌᔕ ᖇEᗪEᔕIGᑎ

The last two designs for the main cast. With these two done, I can finally work on miscellaneous characters that I've been eyeing the most.

Again, thoughts below the cut:

My issues with their Original designs:

Sir Pentious:

I thought I would only have one thing to say about him (the unnecessary eyes) since he was my favorite in the entire original cast but having taken a closer look at him for this, I saw a lot of things that bothers me.

Too many eyes. specifically the lower half of his body has too many eyes and it seems detrimental to him. It's kind of painful to think about it since I do not think we ever see those eyes close. Is he just slithering on the ground with those exposed eyes? That's got to be irritating at best and damaged at worst as he continuously slithers on them.

There are eyes on the bowtie and the hat? There are already 4 extra eyes on his hood, so why have even more? I get that the original Pentious design was basically a monsterous amalgamation of eyes but the eye thing could have been scrapped altogether.

While his palette was the least red out of the cast (More so composed of yellows), it still blends in with the rest of the reds.

The claws are an unnecessary repeating design trait (Alastor and Vox notably have them too). I don't think it would've been too big of a difference to just keep his fingers fully black.

The stripes on his suit are too thick. It's called pinstripes for a reason.

I don't like how the hat is shaped to fit the head, It's awkward.

not a point, but I just wanted to say how the blue color palette works really well with him in that last episode.

CherriBomb:

She's not that bad of a design (She's sort of bland in my opinion) but it's the little small details about her that makes her so simple and also so complicated at the same time. There are so many batches of freckles scattered everywhere, little explosion lines on her skirt as well as the X on her chest, the tattoos are a jamble of random loops and bombs, and her tattering doesn't have an easy shape to consistently draw.

The thought process for these two:

Mx. Pentious:

Pentious goes by both Sir/Miss/Mx. but uses she/they pronouns.

Minimized the actual amount of eyes on her, I kept it only to her actual eyes and those on her hood.

Gave her a butterfly-shaped hood. It's nothing deep since it stems from the fact the notches in Sir Pentious' hood almost looked like one to my bad eyesight. I decided to play more into that idea.

I read some posts where people talk about how Sir Pentious should have a snout and while I understand why and fully support people giving him one, I really didn't want to add the snout to this design. It drove me crazy since I'm not a big fan of it. I tried a compromise where her head was shaped more like Phineas.

Kept the tophat but removed its eye and mouth. If I remember correctly, Viv took that from one of her co-workers from the pilot. I decided to just have it as a regular tophat.

It doesn't have all the colors, but her design does have the Neptunic flag.

I'm not sure if this even is a real snake but I based Mx. Pentious' design on this:

CherriBomb:

Scraped most of her features in exchange for a sukeban theme. I personally have zero knowledge about the punk scene in Australia.

A majority of the suggestions I received for her rough draft had something to do with the skirt. I elongated it and gave it a slit in which the magenta from the inside is able to pop out.

Thought it would be a cute detail to have her hair explode if she's angry.

----

Apologies this took too long to be posted, Life got in the way as well as the fact I was feeling shitty about Pentious' first draft. Her skin was an awkward and ugly shade of green and seeing some posts critical of Pentious' design got me to think a little bit more about what direction I'd like to move her redesign.

You could see this in the earlier rough sketches but this was how Pentious' first redesign looked like

#vivziepop critical #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel redesign #deadbeat motel mrx. pentious #deadbeat motel cherribomb #deadbeat motel redesign #//I only came back from the dead to post these Neptunic Lesbians on pride month/j // #//Happy pride to everyone btw!!//

[maddyshome]

really interesting that in chinese childe’s monster form is called demon king. implying something here mihoyo? also i dont think thats a mask, thats his face in that form

#genshin impact #childe #tartaglia #why king... #knowing he also wants to rule the entire world... #what does it mean #and why he still has his hair well its simple #childe is a demidemon #ish creature so #also very likely his transformation was very different compared to others #ofc i mean khaenriah citizens

[itaipava]

— things you do that f1 boys think it’s attractive.

˒ ⌕ LANDO NORRIS

when you kiss him; he loves to kiss you, but he loves when you start the kiss. the way you pinned him to the wall the first time because you were madly drunk and he wasn’t; you tugged on his tie to bring him closer. he was completely surprised and in love, it was something hot and daring for you to do. and he didn't hesitate to place his hands on your waist, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, tasting all the drinks you consumed a few moments before.

˒ ⌕ DANIEL RICCIARDO

when you wear his clothes; it started out simple, like wearing his hoodies and sweaters when it was cold. he thought it was really cute and never missed an opportunity to say how beautiful you looked in his clothes, but everything changed after he saw you in his shirts. he offered you one when you went to spend the night at his house, he didn't imagine you would look so beautiful and cute in his clothes; he opened his mouth when he saw you coming out of the bathroom, looking you up and down. you smiled and walked over to him, flicking his nose. he smiles and comments again about how beautiful you are.

˒ ⌕ CARLOS SAINZ

when you sit on his lap; he won't do it if you're not comfortable, but he loves pulling you into his lap, especially when you're facing him. it all started when he came home late at night and was so exhausted; his head fell against the back of the sofa while he looked at the ceiling, his body wanted at least cuddles and that's why you came sitting on his lap to hug him. all he did was blush and hug you back, burying his face in your shoulder, leaving a kiss. your boyfriend couldn't help but smile and completely melt against you, and this has become one of his favorite things that he looks forward to doing every time he comes home.

˒ ⌕ CHARLES LECLERC

when you are driving; he was always very loving and patient when teaching you to drive, and he was so happy and excited when you passed your driving test and got your driver's license. and to reward you, he said you two would go to your favorite restaurant and he would let you drive his car. it was very unusual of him, but you promised you would do a good job. he finds it hot even when you were still practicing, the thought of you picking up speed, the wind in your hair, your face of concentration but quickly turning into a joyful laugh when he comments something funny. he loves to see you so beautiful driving, it's something he can't explain, just feel; and just a crooked smile is on his face, seeing how well he's trained you. your boyfriend could only relax in the passenger seat and look at you.

˒ ⌕ LEWIS HAMILTON

when you play with dogs or children; he can't do anything but stand there admiring you as you bend down to pet a stray kitten or a dog that has wagged its tail at you. he finds it so purely cute how your eyes sparkle and how you stop whatever you’re doing to caress them. and his heart races in his chest when he sees you doing baby voice to talk to your nephews or cousins kids, and how they look at you happily. he thinks you're so precious and amazing and he can't stop thinking about it, and how lucky he is to have you by his side.

˒ ⌕ OSCAR PIASTRI

when you lower your voice to talk to him: it doesn't matter if it's the middle of the night when you're lying sleepless, or when you come over and whisper something in his ear. the way your voice is so seductive and sweet makes him shiver and want to hear you talk more and more, especially when you give him a not so innocent smile.

˒ ⌕ MAX VERSTAPPEN

when you are focused on something; he can't take his eyes off you when you're working on something important on your computer or when you're going to follow some recipe you saw on the internet. something about your expression and your posture makes him weak; you are so beautiful without even trying. when you take your eyes off what you were doing before to look at him, he smiles at you, finally confessing how beautiful you are to him.

#formula 1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo imagine #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz imagine #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic

[sailortongue]

someone help me name this fic

pairing: choso kamo x reader

summary: a simple movie night with your best friend turns into something more when his older brother joins your weekly ritual

wc: 3.3k

warnings: smut, nsfw, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, yuji is asleep in the same room briefly

an: why is smut so hard to write. feel like i put in so much effort just for it to not even be good

an 2: also the "title" is not a joke. this fic has been sitting in the docs for a few days and i'm still stumped. so if anyone has suggestions the floor is all yours

--------

Movie night was definitely your favorite night of the week. It always involved plenty of snacks, jokes, laughter, and was just generally a great time with your best friend. There was never a boring moment as long as Yuji was around. So no matter what, you could always expect to have fun.

What you didn't expect, though, was Yuji’s older brother, Choso, joining your weekly ritual. You liked him well enough, for what little you knew about him. For as long as you've been friends with Yuji you don't think Choso has ever said more than three words to you at one time. Not that that stopped you from harboring a small crush on the older male. You rolled your eyes at yourself. Crushing on your best friend’s brother. How cliche could you get?

But fuck Choso was pretty. Like, unfairly pretty. Especially now, when he was fresh out of the shower, his hair down from its usual space buns. You also noticed that he had removed the copious amount of earrings he usually had in his ears, giving him a softer look than you were accustomed too. You watched him run his hands through his hair, pushing his bangs out of his face. You bet his hands would feel so good on your-

“Y/N!”

You snapped back to reality to see Yuji looking at you expectantly. “What?” you asked dumbly, heat spreading across your cheeks, embarrassed that you had accidentally ignored your friend in favor of thirsting over his brother. Get a grip you thought to yourself.

But Yuji only chuckled. “Rough week?” he asked.

You groaned as you dramatically flopped backward to lay on the couch, which was answer enough for Yuji. Always the optimist, he said, “Maybe next week will be better. You got this.”

“No, I don’t. This degree is eating me alive. I have not one, not two, but three exams next week!” you exclaimed, holding up three fingers for emphasis.

“You’ll be fine. You did well on your last exams and you’ll do well on these too. So like I was saying, I wanted to know if you had a particular movie in mind.”

You thought about it for a moment. “No, not really. How about we let Choso pick since it’s his first time watching with us?”

Both you and Yuji looked over at Choso, whose eyes widened at finding himself the center of attention. He hummed, trying to think if there was anything that piqued his interest before settling on a movie he’d been meaning to watch but never got around to.

“Perfect! Hey, Yn, can you pop some popcorn while I set it up?” asked Yuji.

You hummed your agreement and stood from your place on the couch, padding your way over to the kitchen. You dug in the pantry for the popcorn, finally finding the box shoved way in the back. You grabbed two of the pouches and placed one in the microwave. While that was popping, you decided to go ahead and get a large bowl for the snack.

Naturally, it was on the top shelf, which left you on your tiptoes and stretching your arm as high as you could all in vain. As if summoned by your plight, Choso walked into the kitchen to see your struggle.

“Hey, Choso, could you-”

Before you could even finish asking, he placed himself right behind you, his body flush to yours as he placed a hand on your hip for stability and reached up with the other arm to grab the bowl. He handed it to you with a simple “here” before walking back into the living room.

You couldn't believe that just happened. Your heart was going a mile a minute and you briefly considered splashing cold water on your face to cool it down. Luckily for you, Choso remained in the living room with Yuji, allowing you to have a small meltdown in peace. 

When you returned to the living room with popcorn in hand, you found that Yuji had made himself comfortable in the recliner, which left you with no choice but to share the couch with Choso. There was ample room on the couch for the two of you, but just being in the same room after his stunt in the kitchen felt too close, much less on the same couch.

You did your best to avoid looking at Choso, knowing your face would erupt with heat the moment you made eye contact. You placed the popcorn on the coffee table and took your seat on the opposite end of the sofa as Choso.

“Everybody ready?” asked Yuji excitedly, eager to watch a movie with two of his favorite people. When both you and his brother gave the affirmative, he started the movie. But for all of his excitement to watch it, you guess the exhaustion that comes with the end of a school week caught up to him, and he was asleep before he even made it halfway into the movie.

This left you to watch the rest of the movie alone with his brother, the man who had flustered you so terribly a mere hour ago and the one you thought about late at night. You silently cursed Yuji’s name for leaving you in this situation, even more so when the characters on screen ended up in a bedroom. You could feel Choso’s gaze on you, and when you glanced over at him, you were right, he was looking right at you.

You furrowed your brows into a questioning gaze, silently asking him what. He shook his head and returned his attention to the screen. You followed suit, but the graphic imagery was getting to you. You shifted in your seat, feeling the stirrings of arousal that first began with Choso pressing himself against your backside. You couldn't but imagine that the couple on screen was you and Choso: how it would feel to kiss him, be held by him, be fucked by him.

Why is this scene so long? You thought to yourself, rubbing your thighs together as discreetly as you could. But not as discreetly as you should have, apparently.

“Are you cold?” asked Choso. Now, Choso knew damn well you weren’t cold, but he wanted to see how far he could push you, how desperate he could make you. 

“No, no, I’m fine,” you insisted.

He frowned at your response and scooted over next to you anyway, extending his blanket to cover you. You weren't so naive to think that this is a normal and friendly interaction. Especially not when Choso’s large hand slid over your thigh and rested just below the hem of your shorts. You stiffened in your seat, and a warmth began to spread through your lower belly. “Choso,” you started, but the words caught in your throat as soon as he glanced down at you.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His hand continued from behind your ear and migrated to cup your face, pulling you closer to him. You glanced at his lips, heart practically pounding out of your chest. Before your lips could connect, he paused. “Is this okay with you?” he whispered breathily. He’d never forgive himself if he was making you uncomfortable with his advances.

Rather than answer, you mirrored his actions, cupping his face and pulling him closer, finally pressing your lips against his soft ones. He inhaled roughly, but melted against you as he returned the kiss. He licked the seam of your lips, urging you to let him in. 

But it wasn’t enough. Not for Choso. His hands moved to grip your hips and pull you into his lap. Now straddling him, you could feel how hard he was beneath you. You gasped into his mouth, and as soon as you did you regretted it. Choso pulled away from you, his dark eyes boring into yours. “You have to be quiet, pretty girl. You wouldn't want Yuji to wake up and see us, would you?”

You shook your head, eyes wide and pleading for him to keep going. He mockingly pouted at you, but it morphed into a patronizing grin, a wicked idea forming in his mind. He leaned in and licked a stripe from the base of your neck all the way to just below your ear. You shivered in his grasp, and he chuckled, the deep sound reverberating through his chest. He blew on the wet stripe, pleased at the way your body reacted so deliciously to the stimulation, your hands balling the fabric of his shirt into fists. But you stayed quiet. He hummed. “Good girl. Let’s go somewhere you can be a little louder. What d’ya say? I want to hear all those pretty sounds.”

You nodded fervently, not trusting your voice at the moment for fear that you’d disturb Yuji. Choso tutted at you, and nipped at your earlobe. The sudden sharp pain caused you to wince, but it was quickly forgotten as Choso placed feather-light kisses along your jawline before returning where he started, his soft voice tickling the shell of your ear. “Come on, baby, use your words. I need to hear you say it. Need to hear you say you want me to fuck you.”

You were about to assert that yes, you wanted this, wanted him, but you hesitated, wondering what Yuji would think if he ever found out.

He could see the indecision in your eyes, that you were unsure if you truly wanted to continue this or not. He pulled away from you, terrified that he had overstepped and you were just too scared to stop him. “If you don’t want this-”

“No!” you cut him off. “I do. I really want this. I’m just worried about what Yuji will think when or if he finds out and mmH-” Choso smashed his lips against yours, effectively silencing every racing thought as all you could focus on was the way his tongue intertwined with yours and how good his hands felt as they smoothed up and down your waist.

He reluctantly pulled away before he completely lost himself to bliss. “God, you're just too perfect.” His eyes scanned up and down your heaving body, which was tense with anticipation. All it took was the soft “please” falling from your kiss-swollen lips to have Choso groaning, all of his restraint crumbling within him. Your hips gyrating over his was just the nail in his coffin. He slid his hands from where they rested on your hips down your thighs, smoothly lifting you up with him as he stood from the couch. From over his shoulder you could see your best friend still sleeping peacefully in the recliner, none the wiser that the relationship between his best friend and older brother was about to be forever changed.

A pang of guilt went through you, but was smothered by the overwhelming lust and attraction you had been harboring for Choso since the first moment you saw him. What Yuji didn’t know wouldn't kill him, right?

You lost sight of Yuji as Choso entered his room, using his foot to softly close the door behind him. He approached the bed and placed you atop it gently, reverently even. Seeing his face hovering above yours, having him between your legs, it felt unreal. You never even entertained the thought that your fantasies would become a reality, but now they were and it was so much better than you could have ever dreamed.

In the privacy of his room and without worrying that his brother would wake any second, Choso became bolder. He was seemingly unable to decide where to place his hands now that he finally had you under him. You wrapped your hands around his wrists and guided his hands to your chest, prompting him to cup your breasts. He got the message loud and clear, giving them each a soft squeeze. He trailed his hands down to the hem of your shirt and slid his hands under the material, pulling it above your head and tossing it to the floor of his bedroom. He returned his hands to your covered breasts, kneading them through your bra before he hooked his fingers under the fabric and pulled it down.

He let out a shaky breath, entranced by the vision you made beneath him, the very picture of beauty and femininity. You watched him as he drank in the sight, resisting the urge to pull him where you wanted him. Unable to resist any longer himself, Choso lowered his face to your chest, taking a nipple into his mouth and tweaking the other between two fingers. You gasped as he suckled at the tender flesh, and your hand flew to the back of head, winding your fingers in his dark hair. He released your nipple with a pop, and tilted his head up to see you already looking at him. “Don’t stop,” you whined, already missing the warmth of his mouth on your body.

“Don’t worry, I'm not stopping til we both feel good.” As he said that, he switched sides and continued his ministrations, dragging his free hand down to the hem of your shorts. “Let’s get these off, yeah?” You lifted your hips to aid in his efforts, and they soon joined your shirt on the floor.

Choso placed his hands on the outside of your thighs, using the thumb of one hand to toy with your clit through your panties. You moaned at his touch, his name slipping from your lips. The sweet sound of your voice was music to Choso’s ears, and he was determined to hear as much of it as possible. He leaned down to kiss you, swallowing every gasp and moan, his lithe fingers bringing you to the edge faster than you ever thought possible. All too soon, he removed his hand, but you quickly realized he was true to his word and far from done as he slid his hand beneath your panties.

He chuckled against your lips, “You're so wet and I've barely done anything.”

You turned your face to the side, using one hand to cover the blush spreading across your features. As endearing as your bashfulness was, Choso wanted you to be as comfortable with him as possible. He took your wrist in his hand and pulled it from your face, instead placing it atop the painfully throbbing bulge in his pants. “You don’t need to be shy with me. I want you just as bad, if not more. Wanted you since the moment Yuji first brought you home.”

“Really?” you asked, wondering if both of you had been ignoring your feelings for each other all this time.

He nodded. “Really. Still remember the first time I saw you. You were wearing that cute little skirt with the laces in the back, and all I could think about was what it would be like to fuck you in it. You’ll have to wear it for me next time, hm?”

Next time.

“Only if you put in your piercings.”

He laughed at that. “Whatever you want, princess.”

You were both there gazing at each other like fools, the distance slowly but surely closing between you. The kiss was searing, and you were abruptly reminded of the need you felt as Choso made quick work of your bra and panties, leaving you bare beneath him, despite the fact that he was fully clothed. He attached his lips to your neck, sucking dark marks that Yuji would surely see tomorrow morning, and dragged two of his fingers through your folds, gathering slick with his fingers before pushing in. You moaned at the intrusion, your walls clamping down tightly on his fingers. You could feel Choso grin against your throat as he curled his fingers into you, pulling them in and out slowly. Your gasps and moans increased in both tempo and volume until he removed his fingers altogether.

Your protests died in your throat as you saw Choso prop himself on his knees as he removed his shirt, revealing the toned body you had no idea he was hiding beneath his usually baggy tees. He removed his sweats and boxers next, his stiff cock slapping against his stomach. He resumed his position between your legs and stroked himself a few times before lining himself up with your entrance.

He pushed in slowly and you would have screamed from the pleasure of him stretching you out if it wasn't for the hand that swiftly covered your mouth. “I know, baby, I know, but you can’t be too loud.”

He continued to push into you, and every time you thought you had taken all of him there was more. Just when you were sure you couldn't possibly take any more, you felt his balls press firmly against your ass. You were so full, more than you ever had been in your life.

Choso sighed as he filled you completely, the velvety softness of your walls sucking him in greedily. “Oh God you feel too good,” he whispered, the words strangled as he struggled to keep himself still, giving you time to adjust to his size. He watched the way your chest heaved up and down with every labored breath, the way your eyes were glazing over in ecstasy, and the way your sweet cunt fluttered around his cock.

He couldn't take it anymore when you thrust your own hips upwards, the involuntary movement all it took to snap Choso’s composure. He pulled out almost completely, before sinking back in a single thrust. The way your cunt swallowed him so eagerly had him on cloud nine. How had he gone for so long without knowing the bliss that was being inside you.

His cock continued to drill in and out of you, his grunts of pleasure mixing with your moans. The delicious sounds you made spurred him on, and he quickened his movements. He no longer cared if Yuji heard. Let him. Let him know how good Choso made you feel. You were his best friend, but as of now you were also Choso’s girl.

You felt yourself going stupid with the pleasure of having him inside you, his name the only word you were capable of saying. He knew you were close, and he wanted more than anything to feel you clench around him as he brought you to the height of pleasure. He brought his hand down to rub circles against your clit, doing his damndest to make this the best you’ve ever had. “C’mon, baby, cum for me. You can do it. Cum around my cock, show me how good I make you feel.”

Those words were all it took to have you falling over the edge, pussy clenching tightly around Choso, whose own orgasm was triggered by yours. He moaned loudly, feeling too good to worry about volume. He continued to thrust into you as you each rode out your highs, his cum leaking out around him with every push into your used hole.

As soon as the waves of pleasure died out, pulled out and collapsed on top of you. Your pants mixed together as he lay with his head on your chest. You brought your hand up to card your fingers through his hair, and he hummed at your soft touch.

You continued to do so until he propped himself up on his elbows, his face mere inches from yours. “Would you go on a date with me?” he asked nervously.

A broad smile spread across your face, ecstatic that he wanted more from you than just sex. “I’d love to.”

A smile of his own mirrored yours as he surged forward to capture your lips with his own, the happiness exuding from him almost palpable. When he broke the kiss, he rolled off of you and onto his side, pulling you into his chest as he did so. With Choso’s arms wrapped securely around you, you both drifted off in the comfort of each other’s presence, unaware that it was the exact position a younger brother incapable of knocking would find you in in the morning.

#choso kamo x reader #choso x reader #choso kamo #choso smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #choso kamo fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut

[slttygeto]

HEART TO HEART : GOJO SATORU

what is heart to heart? a show in which we bring two people who have history together to ask them a couple of interesting, heartbreaking questions.

today's episode: 27 year old Gojo Satoru broke up with his girlfriend 4 years ago, yet he cannot move on. does she feel the same? and does a person really not move on even after four years?

note: i started this…without a second thought. i dont know where its going or if its gonna do well. but i enjoyed it very much

a cold room, a white set, two chairs and a table—satoru gojo knew that the point of this very simple and minimalistic set was to make him feel vulnerable and uncomfortable, but a tiny vase would’ve been appreciated.

“why did you two break up?”

the ivory haired man leans back in his chair with a dry chuckle, fingers drumming along the surface of the wooden table.

“I was insecure,” he admits rather bitterly. “I just had a lot of things to work on, and letting go of her seemed like the right thing to do.”

“do you miss her?”

“oh, absolutely,” there’s a smile on his face when he says that, and sits up straight with his hands clasped together (an indicator that he was most likely anxious to be asked such vulnerable question). he goes on to squeeze his hands a bit and his lips are sealed shut for a bit before opening them again. “I thought to myself that I wouldn’t find love for a while after her—but it’s been four years, and I cannot get myself to move on.”

“has she moved on?”

“maybe? I’m not sure,” he lets out a nervous laugh and looks away from the camera before holding his head in his hands, there was a mental battle going on inside his head—before he finally decides to speak again. “I actually stalked her instagram account last week through a mutual friend and… I didn’t see a man on any of the pictures. she could just be super private.”

“was she private about being with you?”

“she would post pictures here and there, we didn’t like to keep our relationship a secret.”

gojo is handed a blindfold and he neatly wraps it around his eyes and waits, heart thumping loudly in his chest.

when you were asked by a friend if you would do this interview, a part of you was a bit hesitant just because you weren’t sure if you wanted to air out your love life like this and have to deal with the consequences of a potential future lover being upset about it—but when you were told that it was gojo satoru, your ex-boyfriend whom you dated for 3 years and were planning on building a future with—that is until it abruptly ended with no warnings whatsoever. perhaps you ignored the tornado warnings? were there even any to begin with? you will never know because you blocked him everywhere on social media. from instagram to his phone number. you couldn’t deal with the fact that he existed around you, near you yet you couldn’t have him.

four long years of not having seen him took a toll on your heart, as it sure gets excited the moment you spot white strands on top of a head that is laid out on the table. his sense of style is still so casual and laid back, but not in a cocky way. satoru has always been about feeling comfortable in your clothes but you notice his tense shoulders and his foot tapping and can immediately tell that he is anxious.

you silently pull the chair back facing him and he lifts his head off of the table. your hands rest on top of the surface and the producer finally asks gojo to take off the blindfold.

when he does and you two lock eyes, you both start smiling big but you can’t help the little tremble to your lips before you look away from the camera to wipe a few emotional tears.

“sorry,” you whisper but your mic was able to pick it up. almost on instinct, satoru reaches towards you and squeezes your arm reassuringly.

“when was the last time you spoke to one another?”

“four years ago.” you are the one to answer the questions now and you keep avoiding satoru’s big blue eyes.

“was it hard having to walk away from a long term relationship?”

“It’s always hard when you thought there was a connection,” your emphasis on the word “thought” makes gojo look down at his lap almost in shame. he had no time to explain himself or what he did, yet he couldn’t help but feel that this interview was going to be like a second chance to explain himself and perhaps give a proper apology.

“you had no closure?”

“nope.” you both answer at the same time and it feels as though feelings of resentment are starting to resurface as your demeanor grows cold around him and you pull your hands away from the table.

“why do you think you broke up?”

“you said you couldn’t really see us together anymore,” you were now speaking to satoru directly and he gladly took the heat of your words. “you said…that us being together was just a waste of time and that one of us has to walk away,” you were clearly hurt by his words, even four years later. the breakup took a toll on you both physically and emotionally. you were incapable of going on dates for a painfully long period of time that your friends had to drag you outside to meet some potential new partners—but none of them felt like satoru. you resented him for crawling into your heart and finding a safe space there, for settling down and building a warm house inside only to tear it down and leave as quickly as he came.

“I wasn’t… sure what I wanted to do at the time, I was confused about my future,” satoru admits for the first time ever. “I thought it was so unfair to drag you down that hole with me when it was so clear to you that you had a plan in mind—a secure one so I just-“

“left.” you finish the sentence for him and he lets out a pained laugh.

“yeah, I left. and when I realized that you had blocked me, I knew that there was no going back and that I actually did it. yknow, like, it wasn’t this bad dream where I would wake up and you were still beside me—you were actually gone, I made you leave.”

there was a long silence after this and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, not after that confession.

“did you miss me?” gojo takes the initiative to ask this question instead of the producer but they don’t complain, watching carefully as you look back at your ex partner.

“I did,” you say again in a whisper, almost scared that you coming to terms with this horrible realization was going to hurt you further.

“do you think that…we could’ve worked out had I been honest at the time?”

“satoru, I would’ve never left you as easily as you did,” you knew that it wasn’t easy for him, but you want him to know that your love for him was bigger than he ever thought.

“would you like to try again?”

you two stare at each other for a bit and you sneak your hand towards his huge palm, resting your index finger there and tracing soft circles.

“yeah… I want to. do you?” you look up at him through your eyelashes and gojo’s heart feels as though it is about to burst.

“I would love to.”

2023: all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

—💭 if you like this, leave me a tip!

#moon's works #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #jjk gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo

[bluesidez]

Can’t get Firefighter Miguel out of my head because of the Miggy discord.

content warning: nothing but fluff...for now 😗

word count: 1.3k, not proofread

Next ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅𓌉◯𓇋 Masterlist

Imagine you’re trying to get into baking or something and you’re not used to your oven AT ALL.

Cherry pies? Ruined.

Apple fritters? Apple crisps.

Chocolate chip cookies? Charcoal chip cookies.

Brownies? More like burnt brownie brittle.

Your process would be going so well until it was time to actually put your dessert in the oven and it was like your oven plotted against you.

You set the right temperatures. You pre-heated. You even placed things in the right part of the oven. How is it that everything goes wrong?

The only desserts that saw the light of day were the no-bake ones. You’re not sure how much more no-bake cheesecake you could take anymore.

The day that really sets it off is the day that you attempted to make a simple vanilla birthday cake. Your friend’s birthday was coming soon and you wanted to gift her one of those cute bento cakes.

Your icing is finished and delicious. You’ve been practicing the decorations all week and they were pretty cute! The cake just a few more minutes left to bake, then you could take it out to chill.

As you’re piping a bag of baby pink icing, you look up to see that the room is a little foggy. You turn in a panic and notice puffs creeping from the oven.

“No, no, no!!!” you cry as you turn to open it.

You can’t do anything but cough as a ton of smoke hits you in the face.

Your cake on fire. Orange and yellow light illuminating the oven.

You panic as the fire seems to grow brighter once it hits the air.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god!”

Where was your fire extinguisher? You tried fanning at fire with a towel, but to no avail. You couldn’t even get to the knobs to switch the oven off.

You step back, terrified. You felt like sobbing watching the flames take over. Why aren’t the sprinklers on?

By the time you run out of your house, the fire alarm decides it can sing its tune. You call 911 with a shaky voice, hoping they can get here faster than your alarm decided to make itself known.

You stand outside peeking through your eyes as you could see the flames grow near your kitchen window.

Thankfully the firetruck makes it in time, the firefighters working quick to get inside.

One of them asks is anyone else inside and you shake your head no, thankful that it was just you.

It doesn’t take long for them to put it out and come back outside.

“Are you ok?,” one of them comes to ask you. You look up to this tall, dark, and handsome man. He’s sweating a bit obviously from the summer heat and the fire as he takes his helmet off. His hair is curly and dripping. You ogle him a bit, watching his chest move up and down.

“Do we need to call you an ambulance?” he says, placing a heavy hand on your shoulder.

“Oh! No! So sorry, I’m still a little…winded from everything,” you say, embarrassed.

“Ok, well as long as you’re fine. Do you mind telling me what you were doing?” he asks.

You cast your eyes down. Here was such a fine man standing before you and you had on pajamas and a frilly maid apron with flour splattered on top.

“I was trying to make a birthday cake. As we can see, it completely failed,” you reply. “I don’t know what happened. I followed every instruction. The oven was set at 350 degrees.”

He tilted his head at you as you whined away.

“Is this the first time that something like this has happen?”

You shake your head no, “This is the 3rd burnt dessert in a week.”

“Hm. Well I’ll have the crew here check it out.”

An hour and some change later, one of the firefighters tells you and the tall glass of water, who learn is a captain named Miguel, that you have a damaged gas line.

“You’re really lucky that you were only getting blackened sugar. One more cake and that could have been the end,” Miguel says to you with hand on his hip and another on your shoulder. “And also, never open the oven if there’s a fire. If this happens again, turn the oven off and wait until it dies down.”

You felt your head nodding, heart beating at how awkward everything felt.

Miguel looked down at you again, “Do you have anywhere you can stay over night? Or until I can get someone up here to get this gas fixed?”

“My grandma lives a couple of streets down,” you say, cheeks heated at his intense eye contact.

“Tell you what, how about you settle there for the night and I’ll come back personally to help you grab your belongings tomorrow morning?”

“That would be amazing! Thank you so much. I’m sorry for all of this,” you gesture to your house.

“It happens. Nothing you did here was your fault. Besides, I’m the captain. Fighting fires is what I do. Now, how about a ride in the truck to your grandma’s?”

You feel giddy when he practically pulls you in the truck. No seats are left so you have to settle for sitting on Miguel’s lap, heartbeat racing.

The other firefighters try to hide their smirks and snickers watching their captain hold you so softly in his arms. One big bump in the road has you clinging to him to not fall off.

You straighten back up, embarrassed by the little slip. Miguel chuckles at your actions.

You pretend not to hear their wolf whistles as he guides you to your grandma’s front door.

Miguel knocks firmly, waiting with you until she opens it.

She’s about to fuss at you for not stopping by sooner until she looks up at Miguel.

“And who is this?” she says, a bit shocked.

“My name is Captain O’Hara. I just wanted to drop your grandbaby off. Had a little baking accident.”

Your grandma listens to Miguel as he explains the situation calmly and professionally. It doesn’t stop her from fussing over you, grabbing and turning you to check for any damage.

“I’m ok grandma. I just have to stay here while my gas gets fixed.”

She thanks Miguel profusely, “Son, what’s your favorite food? I’ll have it made and sent down there for you.”

Miguel laughs heartily. You’re about to tell him he doesn’t have to answer that until he beats you to it.

“Whatever your specialty is, I’ll take it,” he says with a sweet smile on his face and holding your grandma’s hands.

“Cap! We gotta another fire at the college dorms. Someone burnt noodles in the microwave again,” a firefighter yells from truck.

“Well if you all can excuse me, duty calls!” he says and runs back to the truck.

“I can’t believe you burnt a cake! Haven’t I taught you better? And you know you’re making him that food, right?” your grandma says as you step inside.

“Grandma,” you say, affronted. “It was the oven, not me! And he might not want to even eat what I make after this.”

“Hmph,” she says, with a click of her tongue. “Well, you better get ready to use this kitchen here. You need that man as a husband.”

“Grandma.”

“I have some ham hocks in the freezer, some turnip and mustard greens. I think the church sent me some potatoes. We need to go to the store too. You gotta get him through his stomach.”

“Grandma!”

There was a silence as you and your grandma stared at each other.

“So are you thinking pork chops or catfish to go with the side dishes?” she said, grabbing a pencil and an empty envelope.

You just groaned and crumpled in your chair.

divider by: @benkeibear ❤️‍🔥

the grandma convo is heavily inspired by my own grandma lol. tagging @miguelhugger2099 @kit-and-wolfe @huniedeux @ugh-ok-fiyn because I want y’all to see this 😗

#love lab drabbles 💊 #Firefighter!Miguel ❤️‍🔥 #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o’hara x gn!reader #miguel 2099 #spiderman 2099 au #spiderman 2099 x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #x black reader #miguel x black reader

[azullumi]

“i wanna be yours” ; aventurine

premise — but this is what friends do, right? they slow dance together in the living room while saying sweet nothings ; inspired by this ask (though i never really followed the entire idea, my hands has minds of its own)

pairing — aventurine (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — fluff (with a little bit of angst at the end), friends but wanting more type of relationship, all written in reader’s pov, not proofread, 1.2k words ; one-shot

tagging — @toorurs (hi boo)

note — i keep on comparing aventurine to the sun i dont even know why i do it. 9 DAYS LEFT UNTIL HIS BANNER

“care to dance?” the languid, lazy silence draws itself away as the honey-haired man spoke, offering you his hand as he did. the light humming of the music in the background keeps the night awake and alive, the softness of the notes intertwined in the air that settles in your home.

you stare at his hand for a moment, admiring the glistening bracelet on his wrist before you answer, tone meek and hesitant: “i don’t know how to dance.” you expected him to laugh at you for not knowing a simple and common concept; dancing was a form of art known to many and yet, you are unfamiliar with it.

but aventurine simply smiles at you and takes your hand to hold on his own, gently pulling you up from your seat and making you stumble on your feet—however, he catches you and doesn’t let you fall to the ground. you are only met with the warmth of his body and the feeling of his unoccupied hand resting on the small of your back.

“you could have warned me before you did that.” you huffed, although you weren’t exactly reprimanding him.

“i still caught you, didn’t i?” the man answers in a gentle tone as he begins to sway you to the rhythm of the song (the melody wraps itself around your form like the cradle of a warm blanket), a familiar tune that plays in your living room and now you are listening to it as you—no, as he dances and guides your movements. you try to follow him albeit like a clumsy child and silence trailed behind your steps as none of you spoke, only wallowing in this moment between you and him.

(his hand is warm against yours, fingers lacing with each other like two puzzle pieces meant to fit together. you have never known how gentle he can be, have never known the warmth of his hands and the softness of his palms up until this moment. maybe it’s the feeling of his touch that’s making you drunk and aeons, you’ve never thought of yourself as a selfish person but something in the way he’s holding you makes you crave for more.)

“focus,” he whispers to your ear, catching you completely off-guard when his breath tickles your skin, “you’re supposed to look at me, not at the ground.”

you compose yourself, bringing your gaze to his face instead of the marble floors that seem to spin as you move, “i was watching my feet so i won’t accidentally step on you.”

“i don’t mind if you do, all i wish is for you to look at me and me only.” he speaks so gently, so delicately as if something akin to despair hangs on the tangled threads of his words. you study his face, looking at the lines on his features and trying to look for the gap of his expression—you could never tell what he was thinking, could never decipher the meaning he skillfully weaves to the words that he utters (you wish you had the ability to look into minds, perhaps you would have known him).

he notices your silence and smiles, “can’t a poor man have their own wishes?”

you take a moment once more to answer, “i didn’t say that.” well, in fact, you weren’t saying anything. the sound of laughter slips past his lips and perhaps, if you didn’t see the way his eyes formed into a crescent and his expression contorts one into amusement, you would have mistook the sound as part of the song.

“you should see the way you look right now.” 

you raised your eyebrow at him, confusion evident in your face, “what do you mean? is there dirt on my face?”

aventurine pulled you closer to him, movements coming to a stop as you two stood still. his face is leaning down to yours, lips merely inches away from each other, and your thoughts are in a jumble as if your mind was a library of cluttered and disorganized bookshelves.

“no, i’m saying you look lovely tonight.” he whispers—and you swear, you see his eyes look down to your lips for a moment—, his voice low as if you’re the only one who’s supposed to hear and not the moon that casts its curious glow on his skin, not the stars that watched your every move, but you and just you.

(you’re left with nothing but silence and warmth in your cheeks, not knowing where to focus or even think about—the strong scent of his perfume or his words that repeatedly echoed inside your head.)

the golden-haired man doesn’t speak any further, continuing his slow dance with you in the comfort of your living room as he hums along to the melody. the night is heavy against your shoulders as the silver moonlight laid on the ground like spilled milk.

“it is quite simple, isn’t it? look, you’re able to follow.”

“aven, you’re doing all of the work.”

he slowly spins you around—the world looks slow and messy for you for a moment—before he answers, “barely.” he comes face to face with you and you don’t fail to notice the affection in his eyes when he meets your gaze.

“don’t look at me like that.” you wished he wouldn’t look at you in that way; something tugs at your heart and suffocates you.

“like what?”

“i don’t know.” hesitation follows your tone, broken and unsure, seemingly lost in an empty field full of directions. “like…” like you wanted me like a lover, you keep the words at your throat knowing you’ll choke on it one day. you don’t know how to say it, you don’t even know if you can say it. it was as if the ability to speak has been taken away from you.

the song came to its end and so was the dance.

“you should go to sleep, don’t stay up too much.” aventurine says, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind your ear before cupping your cheek and pressing a kiss on your forehead. he lets you go as soon as he parts his lips, stepping back to the distance the both of you once had before all of this happened, as if nothing occurred between you two, as if the words whispered against each other, the closeness, the intimacy were all just some silly imagination.

“are you leaving already?” you ask, your hand reaching out to tug at his sleeve as if you didn’t want him to go. you don’t even know what made you hold on to him, what made you want him to not want to leave.

the man who had the universe in his wake answers with warmth in his tone, “i can’t stay any longer.” he holds your hand and ushers you to remove your grasp on his sleeve. everything felt so different now, your thoughts were all so loud but you couldn’t dare to speak nor say something as you watched him turn away and leave—the sound of the door closing echoed throughout the corners of your home and you were left alone, in silence and in the cold.

but the comfort and warmth of his touch lingered on your skin—and you’ll remember it all; it will haunt you, follow your shadow everywhere you go, pulling on the hem of your shirt with the desperation of a dying man and you don’t know how to live knowing the way he held you on this night. how are you supposed to deal with the fact that his hands were as soft and warm as summer?

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

#honkai aventurine #aventurine #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #aventurine honkai star rail #honkai x you #honkai star rail x reader #honkai fluff #honkai imagines #honkai #honkai star rail #honkai x reader #star rail aventurine #aventurine x you #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr fluff #hsr #azul.writes

[cordeliawhohung]

here's that one ghoap x reader one shot i had posted the idea for a bit ago

johnny has an easy smile and an aura that tells you he wants something significantly more than just his pleasure alone. it isn't until he's got you face first in the mattress that you realize you've bitten off more than you can chew.

cw: alcohol, smut (oral f!receiving, unprotected p in v) consensual to dub-con, slight voyeurism/exhibitionism, slight dumbification of johnny

2.4k

Usually, you never gave your name out so easily to any man who sauntered up to you at the bar, but something was different about this one. Maybe it was because of that odd glint in his eyes; a deep rooted lust poorly obscured by a pretty blue tint. Maybe it was because he looked terribly lost in a very cute way, like a puppy trying to find its owner. Whatever it was, it had your name rolling off your tongue faster than you could stop it, and it made the vodka in your drink taste as sweet as syrup. 

His name was Johnny, and he had an easy smile that was too contagious for you to even attempt to keep up your stone cold expression. He nursed a simple pint, but didn’t seem nearly as interested in it as he was you. For all his smooth words and sharp wit, he didn’t seem to concern himself at all with attempting to hide the fact he had been undressing you with his eyes for the last half hour. The only reason you even allowed him to do so was because how warm it made you feel, rather than disgusting and violated. It was almost like a promise he was looking for something far greater than his own pleasure that night. 

Eventually your drink went down as easy as water and everything else began to melt away. The dim glow of the ambient lighting made Johnny appear even more alluring as he entertained you with some outlandish story that you were certain was mostly made up, but you didn’t care. He was nice to look at, and as you smiled and nodded along with his words you couldn’t help but wonder if his hair was as soft as it looked. 

“Wanna get out of here?” he suddenly suggested after you both were several drinks in. 

His proposition nearly had you laughing, and had it been any other man on any other night you certainly would have. As cute as Johnny was, it was impossible to deny the sweet puppy charm he had about him, and you didn’t know why it lured you in as well as it did. Visions of what could possibly wait for you that night began to unfold in your mind, and you found your hips shifting on the stiff barstool as your eyes flickered to the stubble on his jaw. You wondered how that stubble would feel on the insides of your thighs. 

“I don’t know…” you pondered, but your tone was far from sure. If anything, it was tempting; as if you wanted him to try and push more. 

“You sure?” he questioned with a raised brow. 

Before your reply could leave your lips, Johnny stole your breath away with a single brush of his fingers against your thighs. It all seemed a little juvenile, being touched in a bar as if you were two horny teens who couldn’t keep your hands to yourselves. Still, you would be lying if you said you didn’t want him to push just a little further as his hands grabbed the meat of your inner thigh like he claimed a prize. 

“Don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” 

What exactly transpired after he said that phrase that had your lips crashing against his was something you couldn’t quite recall, but you quickly realized you didn’t really care. The sour taste of beer was hot on your tongue as your thumb rubbed against the stubble on his jaw. He was the most intoxicating thing you had on your lips that night, and when his teeth nipped at you, you knew there was no way you could ever say no to his proposition. 

As Johnny pulled out of that sloppy, drunken kiss, you didn’t take notice of the way his eyes flickered away from you. You didn’t realize how his attention landed on a large, looming figure that sat tucked away at one of the tables in the far side of the room. While the man’s face was shrouded with a silly skull mask, his gaze spoke volumes; it screamed something that Johnny had been craving that entire night. 

Approval. 

As it would turn out, there were plenty of things you didn’t notice that night. You didn’t notice the two pairs of boots by Johnny’s front door, or how their sizes were so different. You didn’t notice how his bedsheets had the faint aroma of cigarettes woven in the fabric despite the fact you had not tasted a hint of tobacco on his lips when you kissed him. Or maybe you did notice and you just didn’t care. It was difficult to care about anything with Johnny’s face buried in your cunt. 

The sound of his moans rivaled that of your own, and it was downright obscene when accompanied by the wet smacking of his lips on your clit. He ate you out with a fervor you had never experienced with any other man, like he attempted to unravel you with his tongue alone. When your fingers weaved through the thick strands of his hair, that only seemed to prod him to do more. He sunk two thick fingers into your cunt and relished with a guttural groan at how your muscles squeezed at him. 

With his fingers and tongue working in tandem, it didn’t take you long to come. That blistering heat tore through your body with vicious revenge. Johnny’s chuckle got lost in the heat of your skin as he eventually weaned himself off of your cunt and planted a trail of kisses up your body until he reached your lips once more. You could tell by the way his tongue slipped into your mouth that he was far from finished with you, and so when you felt his hands on your hips gently prompting you to turn over, you didn’t fight him on it. 

Your hands and knees sunk into the mattress as you did your best to put on a show for Johnny. Back arched, ass up in the air, hips swaying side to side as if he needed any further enticing. His hands palmed and squeezed at your ass while he pressed himself against you. The fabric of his jeans felt odd and rough against your cunt — as Johnny was too impatient to taste you in order to take them off — yet you grinded back against him anyway. 

“Gorgeous,” he cooed. Rustling clothes sounded behind you as Johnny worked off his shirt, followed by the metallic zipping of his pants. “Gonna let me fuck this pretty pussy, aye? Wanna see if she feels as good as she tastes.” 

Your fingers curled into the bed sheets as Johnny’s cock sunk into you. The thick, wide stretch of him had your mind running blank. Even still, your mindless state had your body rocking back against him where you swallowed the rest of his length whole with a wanton whine. Johnny’s fingers dug into your hips at the stimulation, and you could feel the aching want exude from his body; as if he had to hold himself back lest he rip you to shreds like a badly behaved dog. 

“Bleeding Christ,” he hissed, hips grinding against yours. “She feels so good, bonnie. So fuckin’ good.” 

When Johnny’s hips pulled back just to slam against yours again, you knew you weren’t going to last long. With your nerves already frayed from your previous orgasm, this upcoming one wasn’t buried deep at all. It was right there, lingering just underneath your skin with its tendrils snaking up towards your mind, smothering any coherent thought you attempted to conjure. There was no need for rational thinking, anyway. Why would you need to question the heavy approaching footsteps or the dark rumbling chuckle behind you? 

“Bein’ good, Johnny?” 

The voice that spoke was unfamiliar, and it certainly didn’t belong to Johnny. The deep baritone of it caused your breath to hitch in your throat, yet it was impossible to hold back your moans as Johnny continued to fuck you like it was no big deal. 

“Of course I am,” Johnny panted in response, “just listen to her.”

“Not good enough to wait for me,” the man countered. 

“Couldn’t wait. Not when she was sittin’ so pretty f’me.” 

No, something was wrong. Someone else was there with you, watching as Johnny fucked you into the mattress like an animal. As a wave of panic settled in your chest, you pushed against the bed as you attempted to look over your shoulder, yet it was of no use. Johnny’s relentless pace made it impossible to do anything but slip and slide forward until your face was nearly being smothered into the pillows. 

“Johnny?” you asked, voice pitchy and raw. 

“Right here, bonnie,” he replied as his hands snaked around your front to paw at your chest. “Fuck, you sound so pretty sayin’ my name like that. Not gonna last much longer if you keep talkin’ like that.” 

Even if your brain was capable of coming up with a response to his mindless ramblings, your words surely would have gotten caught in your throat as Johnny’s hips suddenly faltered. His body moved away from yours with a slight jerk, as if someone had yanked on his head, but you could still feel his pathetic attempts to pump his cock into you as he whimpered. 

“Nuh uh,” the new man — whatever his name was — chastised. “You don’t get to come until she does, yeah?”

Johnny’s forehead suddenly crashed against your back as his thrusts picked up pace once again. The hands that were pawing at your chest quickly wandered down to your clit, and your body nearly convulsed at the violent stimulation. You gasped as you tried to rip his hand off of you while the tingling sensation of your impending demise started to crack your body to pieces. 

“Wait, Johnny please,” you babbled. You didn’t even know what you were trying to ask of him. To stop? To explain who that strange voice belonged to? How were you supposed to get those words out when he fucked you like a wild animal? 

“I know, I know,” Johnny shushed. “I just need one more out of ya. One more then Simon will be satisfied. Please, just one more bonnie, s’all I want.” 

A part of you wanted to hold back, to deny him that satisfaction, but it was impossible. He had already built you up so high that it was all too easy to kick out the support beams and watch you tumble. Johnny ripped your orgasm from your body with deft hands sending tremors throughout your body that forced your eyes to squeeze shut tight. It was searing — all consuming — like you were now bound to the man who fucked you and the stranger who egged him on. 

Johnny’s cock slid out of you once your whining had calmed down, but it wasn’t long before his grunts picked up again. Without his hands to hold your hips in place, you crashed forward onto the mattress with a wince before slowly turning on your back in an attempt to face him. 

The view that consumed your vision was enough to stun you into submission. Perspiration coated Johnny’s body with a glistening sheen, and he looked like a god as he sat in front of you on his knees. But he wasn’t alone. A large and brutish man stood at the end of the bed where he held Johnny against his chest by his hair. A black skull-patterned mask obscured his face, but you could make out the darkness of his eyes clear as day as he muttered into the man’s ear. You couldn’t hear what he said over the sound of Johnny’s whining, as the man had his arm snaked around to his front where he tugged at Johnny’s cock using your wetness as lube. 

Before you had the chance to muster a single thought, Johnny came undone. His cum spilled out of him in heavy bursts, falling along your thighs and stomach as the man continued to work him through his end. Had you not been so confused and scared, you would have made a face at the odd, sticky feeling that tainted your skin. Instead, you laid there in silence as the man shoved his cum-coated fingers into Johnny’s mouth. 

“Such a messy pup,” he hummed while Johnny licked his fingers clean. 

When the man turned his attention to you, you wanted to just melt into the bed. To vanish into thin air. To be anywhere else that wasn’t under his gaze. His eyes swept over you in a quick assessment before he pushed Johnny’s head toward you with a simple shove. 

“Clean her up,” he ordered. 

And he did. Johnny’s feverish tongue lapped along your legs and torso, cleaning up the remnants of his cum on your body. But you didn’t feel clean. You felt dirty and confused; used even. 

“Did I do good? I made you come twice, didn’t I? Please tell me I did good, bonnie,” Johnny begged. 

With your body cleaned with his tongue, his nose nuzzled against the inside of your neck as he covered your body with his. As an instinct, your arms wrapped around him as if he was the only support you had. If you couldn’t hide away in the bed, then you’d certainly try to hide away under Johnny, as useless as it was. You made the mistake of making eye contact with that stranger, and his eyes looked like a warning. Like you shouldn’t dare to tell Johnny he was anything less than great. 

“Y-You did good, Johnny,” you said, voice meek and trembling. 

“Did ya hear that, Simon? She said I did good,” Johnny repeated, relishing in your approval. “Thank you, bonnie, thank you…” 

The man — Simon? — walked around the edge of the bed to get closer to you and Johnny, and you found your grip on him tightening. That night had seemed like a good idea back at the bar when you were a few drinks in, but you couldn’t ignore the way your heart felt like it tried to tear itself to shreds. Simon reached his hand for the back of Johnny’s head where he gave his hair a good ruffle, yet when he spoke he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of you. 

“Good pup.”

#ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #ghoap x reader smut #cod smut #f!reader

[sarahisslytherin]

•❣•୨୧ 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙨 ୨୧•❣•

benedict bridgerton x princess!reader

summary: benedict has always been against marriage, but when he meets the princess one fateful night he can't help but fall in love.

contains: fluff and a lot of flirty banter.

a/n: another series cos it was just too much for a oneshot! this was so fun to write i just adore him. to the anon who requested this, i hope you love it and all its upcoming parts!

word count: 1.2k

You feel a heavy gaze on you as you glide across the ballroom. The chandelier above you twinkles with a warm glow, the light catching in your hair as you’re spun around by this suitor and that. The king has tired of begging you to select one for yourself and has threatened on more than one occasion to marry you off to the next prince to set foot in the palace. You know he doesn’t mean it, but you also know it is your duty to carry on the royal bloodline. Your father is right. You must choose. But certainly not this young man dancing with you. No, he’s far too boring. Not unsightly by any means, but he doesn’t make your stomach flip, doesn’t make you giggle as if possessed by an unearthly amount of joy. Still, you feel the eyes of another on you.

Benedict Bridgerton has long been a firm believer of marrying only when absolutely, undeniably in mad love. He hasn’t found that, not yet. That is why when his sisters begged him to accompany them to the royal ball he only agreed under the condition that they leave him free to speak to all the lovely women attending. Perhaps he might be able to take one home tonight and part ways come morning. That had been his original plan, anyway, which lay discarded from this very moment on; the moment he laid eyes on you.

Your current dance partner bows before you as the song comes to a close. He gives you a playful smirk before leaving you, and you resist the urge to laugh. You sigh, exhausted. You’ve got half a mind to find your father, tell him you’re not feeling well and retire to your bedroom for the remainder of the night. You’re grasping at the ruffles of your gown to turn and leave when he appears before you. He has a boyish grin fit to make the most reserved of women melt, and his ocean eyes glimmer like moonlight on waves. “May I have this dance, Your Highness?” You couldn’t say no if you tried.

It’s a different ballroom tonight, but you feel yourself searching faces in the crowd, hoping you might catch a glimpse of that handsome stranger you danced with only a fortnight ago. It was no simple feat escaping the palace. You struggled to squeeze into your gown on your own, but couldn’t risk any of your ladies in waiting knowing about your little disappearing act. You slipped on a cloak and placed a mask over your face. You followed an emergency tunnel beneath the palace grounds until you finally found yourself beneath the pale glow of moonlight. You knew it was mad, but you simply had to see him. He consumed your dreams, and when you were awake, your daydreams. He had been whisked away too soon by his family. You couldn’t even get his name, only his surname: Bridgerton. They have always been a respected household, and at tonight’s masquerade ball you can only hope to encounter them.

Music fills the halls of the Featheringtons’ estate, but the plucking of strings and sweet melody of the violins does little to soothe your nerves. You resolve to distract yourself from your anxious mind and seek out a dance partner. They’re playing a lively song, one that makes you laugh giddily as you hop to the rhythm. You’re so overjoyed, you almost forget all about that Bridgerton lad and his blasted piercing blue eyes. That is, of course, until you step aside to catch your breath and are met with them for the very first time since the night of the royal ball. 

“So we meet again, Princess.” he teases, and your eyes go wide. 

“How did you recognize me?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

“The same way you recognized me, of course.” he smirks, almost as if he weren’t speaking with royalty. “I would know those sweet eyes anywhere.”

“You’ve got quite the silver tongue, haven’t you, sir?” you smile, your cheeks taking on a faint blush as you fan yourself coyly.

“So I’ve been told.” he replies cockily. He gets closer to you; simultaneously too close for comfort yet not close enough. You’re not sure what to make of this man who makes your heart pound in your chest like no other has ever done before. This man whose name you do not even know.

“Tell me,” you demand in the tone you have grown accustomed to using to get what you want, “what is your name?”

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” he giggles like a mischievous schoolboy, and you’d be lying if you said you don’t find it endearing. 

“You know mine.” you retort. “The entire kingdom knows it.”

He feigns shock, clutching his heart and letting his jaw drop. “Why, aren’t we full of ourselves?” You laugh, your eyes crinkling behind your lace mask. 

“I know one of us certainly is.” you tease him back, and he loves every second of it.

“Princess?” he asks, but is quickly hushed by you.

“Lower your voice, do you wish for the entire ballroom to know of my presence here?” you urge him.

“Forgive me, Pri-” he begins once again, but you give him a playful shove your father would have undoubtedly reprimanded you for, seeing as it isn’t very ladylike. “Forgive me, my lady.”

“Much better.” you smirk, satisfied with yourself. “You are forgiven, my lord.”

“Now you tell me.” he says. “What is a lady like yourself doing at a ball like this? Surely you’ve been to better ones.”

You’re suddenly thankful for the white mask hiding your bashful expression from him. “You’re right, I have. But, you see, I was hoping to run into someone.”

He replies with a playful, “Oh?”. You can tell he is clearly intrigued by the information you’ve provided him. “What a coincidence. I was hoping for the same, though I must admit, never in my wildest dreams did I think my hopes would come true.”

“Well”, you go on, “I dare say they have.”

Suddenly, his eyes change and all playfulness is replaced with earnestness and solemnity. He lowers his voice down to a baritone only you can hear. “Princess, you truly must know you have haunted the chambers of my mind since the moment I laid eyes upon you. I may not be royalty, but I have other virtues you will discover if you only allow me. I can love you like no suitor or prince has done so before. Say the word, my lady, and I am yours.”

You’re a bit taken aback by his sudden outburst, but you can tell by his eyes, those gentle eyes, that he means every word he utters. And his words couldn’t have described your own feelings any better. “You’re quite the poet.” you grin. “But how can you be mine if I don’t even know your name?”

He laughs once again, and the tension is lifted. “Benedict Bridgerton, my lady.”

You extend your hand to him and his lips ghost your knuckles. “A pleasure to meet you, Mister Bridgerton.” 

“The pleasure is all mine.” Benedict beams, rising once again. “and I’m hoping the next dance will be, as well?”

“Of course.” you nod, a glint in your eye only Benedict can catch. “I’m all yours.”

tagging: @velvetcloxds @oweninadaydream @holdthegirrrl @enchantedbytomandhenry @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @dd122004dd @marvelspogue

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton

[coralinnii]

❋ You said what now? ❋

↳ He accidentally found out your feelings

feat: Ruggie ⭑ Chenya ⭑ Lilia ⭑ Epel

genre: fluff (uhh for the most part), humour,

note: no pronouns used with the reader, no explicit spoilers for book 7 in Lilia’s section, reader is referred as human in Lilia’s section, reader is implied to be a first year in Epel’s section, bad cat-related wording in Chenya’s section

Fun fact: while not obvious in the English translation, if you listen to Chenya’s Japanese voice lines, he likes to say “nya” at the end of his sentences.

Will I keep that fact in mind anytime Chenya pops up? Absolutely.

Also, I just started my college classes again last week (which is why I didn’t post last week). All of my classes are dense with text and quizzes so…I need to study real hard which will most likely eat up my time for writing. Good ol’ inconsistent me~

Although, I’m taking History and we focus a bit on the age of nobility and old kingdoms…so maybe some inspiration for my villain/ess!au series (or maybe not cuz history is weirder than one thinks…)

How it happened

Perhaps a little sneaky, Ruggie is someone reliable, resourceful, and fun to be around. You started to fall for him and even that sneaky side of his became endearing to you.

But bigger, financial priorities occupy the hyena beastman’s mind more than anything else. Unless he can make a madol from it or get a freebie, his interest in anything else is seemingly non-existent. It was rather easy to keep your feelings to yourself when the topic of love rarely, if ever, comes up.

So it came to a surprise to you when the shaggy-haired sophomore mentioned his coworkers at a part-time job he picked up in town.

He started ranting about how a duo at his workplace started an unlikely relationship a few days ago. According to him, the two were from two different worlds and didn’t appear to be either of their types.

“Doesn’t make any sense if you ask me” he mumbled, scratching his fluffy head by the sudden revelation at his job.

You nodded and hummed as he recounted his workday with you, but in all honesty, you didn’t share his confusion over the so-called sudden pairing. By the way Ruggie described the couple, it does sound like their personalities wouldn’t mesh well and would theoretically clash too much for anything to bloom between them.

But attraction follows no simple formula. No one can stop themselves from falling for someone. You yourself were an example.

“Love is never predictable, Ruggie.” you commented without thinking, perhaps too distracted by the cute love story of Ruggie’s coworkers or it could be that you’re drowning in the warm feelings from being so close to your crush that your mouth is running too comfortably on its own. “I mean, I never thought you were my type but I still ended up-“

You shut your mouth before you could finish but looking at the wide-eyed expression on Ruggie’s face, the effort was moot.

“You still ended up?”

…Shoot.

What happens now?

Colour him shocked. Ruggie never entertained the idea that you would like him, out of all people.

He could’ve pretended not to figure it out, or convince himself that it was a misunderstanding. But he knew when he saw your flustered embarrassment and your cute stuttering trying to come up with an excuse, there was no misunderstanding. You like him.

Ruggie has a good amount of ego and he wouldn’t downplay his boyish good looks (odds are it got him out of a few close calls), but in a school of celebrities, royalty, and guys with money coming out the wazoo? He knows when he’s outmatched.

To be honest, his brain froze for a moment at your slip up. He clutched his heart which stuttered out of beat, his ears and tail stood in attention like a meerkat. Jack was worried watching his upperclassman in such a daze while folding laundry, heck it even got Leona raising a brow over the uncharacteristic clocked out look on his shorter dormmate.

But, Ruggie is a workaholic hyena. Always planning his way to work up the ladder to earn some good madol. Even if he likes the idea of making a family of his own, romance wasn’t in his peripheral vision at the moment. Not while he’s working multiple jobs at once. He would honestly feel a little bad because he knows he’ll end up ignoring any poor soul stuck with him.

As bad as it is, he might at first think to pretend he heard nothing about your feelings. He couldn’t bring himself to make you go through that, to be in a relationship where work takes precedence over you.

But then he thought it wouldn’t be so bad…snuggling up to you during one of his rare free time. Maybe you’re the type to surprise him with lunch and he could rest on your lap while you brush his hair. Would you maybe rub his sore muscles after an arduous club training session? Having boyfriend privileges means no one can complain when he slides up to your side, keeping your attention to himself without having to share…

Screw it, he’ll figure something out. He’s a greedy hyena through and through

Shyeheehee! Better be ready for what you’re asking for. Once I’ve set my eyes on something, I’m not lettin’ it get away!

How it happened

This man is a literal magic trick, appearing and disappearing to revel in the shock of his unsuspecting audience. As elusive as he is, the times he does show up brings a shock of joy and excitement to you.

It seems that the purple-haired student has made it a habit to join the Heartslabyul’s unbirthday parties from time to time, enjoying the occasional chaos and keeping you company to your conflicted delight.

You didn’t know why but Chenya made it his mission to fluster you every chance he gets, with cheeky comments and sly touches as he leads you away from incoming mishaps such as a stray splash of paint or a flying slice of cake. You don’t know why but the cat-like menace has taken a shine to teasing you out of the blue. Sometimes he would suddenly whisper nonsensical riddles into your ear, or tap your shoulder to then poke your cheek as you turn. Small silly pranks that should annoy you but your body becomes filled with butterflies when he smiles that charming grin at you.

How maddening, you thought as you fell for another sneaky surprise from the impish beastman. Once again, Chenya appeared right behind you, smiling just over your shoulder which gave you and your friends a fright (for different reasons) to which he took pleasure in, judging from the mischievous grin on his lips.

Your shouting caught the attention of the other Heartslabyul students and recognizing the white jacket and castle emblem, their eyes boiled with competitive rage. An RSA student? On Night Raven territory?!

“Ah, looks like fun time is over. I’ll just show meowself out~” and like a mirage, Chenya’s figure disappeared as the NRC students failed to catch even a strand of his fur. Not even when he took a second longer to fade out just so he could teasingly tickle the tip of your nose with his fluffy striped tail.

The students kept on making a fuss, eager to teach the mischief maker a lesson for trespassing on rival territory. You sighed at the wasteful effort, assuming that Chenya would be smart enough to have left long ago.

“Why must my crush be such a frustrating person?” Angry hollers and Riddle’s commanding cease-and-desist orders overwhelmed your tired voice, and your soft words ended up softly carried off into the wind.

But your words caught the interest of a curious ear before it disappeared.

What happens now?

Curiouser and curiouser. He was not expecting such a confession. Though to be fair, he supposed you didn’t mean for anyone to hear it.

Chenya found joy being in your company. The shock in your bright eyes followed by your cute laugh sends a warm, giddy feeling in his heart that he just could not stop. He had a feeling he knew what these feelings could be but he was content with what he could get in the rare moments he can see you.

But now, when he realized what your cute reactions meant? That sends whole new exciting feelings within him. It’s fuzzy and warm as usual, but now also shocking and thrilling. The sneaky beastman is grinning for more than one reason now.

He won’t immediately confess back. Considering this wonderful predicament where you don’t know he knows of your affections, his playful nature compels him to milk the fun of this situation for all its worth.

If you thought his cheeky antics were bad enough, you haven’t seen his flirty side till now. Playful taps on the shoulders become sneaky grabs by the waist, and just when you think he’s gone, his signature grin would grace your vision as he fades into view, a little too close to your own face. Sometimes when he feels emboldened, Chenya would sweep you off your feet for a spontaneous walk along the sweet breeze.

When you’re finally at your wit’s end, when all his teasing and heart-fluttering gestures fills you to the point of combusting in flustered frustration, that’s when he’ll finally tell you his reciprocated feelings, perhaps while stealing a quick kiss when you least suspect it. All to see that terribly adorable look on your pretty face.

Every adventure requires a first step. I’m excited to see where we’ll go together from meow on~

How it happened

See, you thought he already knew. You swore he did. Why else would he tease you so much with his sweet compliments and flirty jokes? The mysterious senior spoke to you as though you were a naive child crushing on their older peer, which you supposed wasn’t entirely wrong.

The way he treated you with so much care and love that you wondered if he already suspected of your feelings and was being considerate to you. He listens to your rambles as though he has all the time in the world for you, compliments you on your achievements as though he’s genuinely proud of your hard work, and he jokes with you with that boyish charm of his. But the scarlet-eyed fae never pursued further with advances with you, which made you think that perhaps this was just who Lilia was, a strange but friendly man, unwilling to hurt your feelings. Were you grasping at straws and misconstruing his intentions?

With a heavy heart, you tried your best to give up your hopes but maintained a cordial bond with Lilia, not wanting to avoid the jovial fae so suddenly (well, without having to explain why anyways)

But one day, when you were walking with the smiling senior, he started talking about a souvenir shirt that Kalim had given him during their club meeting. It was a shirt patterned erratically with various colours and pictures of tiny bats littered about. It was an eccentric visual of fabric but it strangely fits the equally eccentric man.

“What are your thoughts? Would I not look absolutely adorable in this?” Lilia asked, holding the shirt in front in his uniform with a boyish smile, his fangs peeking out slightly. But you rolled your eyes as you sighed exasperated by this man’s antics.

“Don’t you think that’s unfair for you to ask me?” You looked at him with a pout, somewhat irritated at the mature fae you’re trying to get over. “Of course I’d said you would, considering how much I like you”

For a rare moment, Lilia turned wide-eyed at your words. “Pardon? Do you by chance… harbour feelings for me?”

Turns out, he didn’t know at all

What happens now?

Guess you can still surprise this old man. He had his suspicions but for all he knew that was how the youth were these days. He was fond of your shy expressions whenever he was around and he could hear the quickening of your heartbeat, but he didn’t want to assume. Perhaps you were just more on the skittish side.

In the centuries he lived, he saw love in many forms. In the recent centuries he lived, he got to experience some of those forms of love he’s seen, with the pain and joy that comes with it. To him, it couldn’t ask for more as he lives out the last few centuries he has left.

You however, were still vibrant like a freshly bloomed flower in its prime. Was that why he just couldn’t take his eyes off you? He couldn’t help but watch in admiration as you lived with almost enviable vigour. He felt pulled, entranced to be by your side for even just a moment, just to see that beautiful gleam of life (and love, he realized) in your eyes.

But Lilia felt a beat of guilt in his heart. Your life is so short in comparison to his own. You should be sharing your youth with someone as brilliant as yourself, not pining over an old soul like himself. Humans are fickle creatures but he supposed with such short lives, it’s best to be curious and experience all one can without regrets.

He would be honest with you, sharing his thoughts with you as though warning that your affections were better spent with someone that suited you better. It would be up to you to convince the stubborn fae that he was your choice, that you already decided he suited you just fine. All you’re asking from him is if he shared the same feelings as you did.

“I may have tried to get rid of my feelings before, but I’m choosing not to run away this time,” in your eyes, Lilia sees that same vibrant gleam that mesmerized him, almost breathing a new sense of life into him. “All I ask is if you feel the same way”

And he does. He’s lying to himself if he hasn't thought of a life with you where he could steal surprise kisses throughout the day, where he could bring you to soar through the night skies as he takes you to explore the world with him. He imagines a life of silliness but also a life of blissful content as he gazes at you like a beacon of light in his life, a new reason to live a bit longer.

Lilia feels ensnared by love once more, but the burning warmth in his soul is just too invigorating. He’s looking forward to this new chapter in his life, with you.

I do hope you’ve prepared yourself, my dear. Eternal love with a fae should not be taken lightly. But rest assured, I look forward to our new adventure

How it happened

You were Epel’s close friend and confidant, someone who he can share his achievements and woes with. Being so new to the college, the two of you depend on each other through thick or thin and along the way, you grew to see the lavender-haired freshman as more than just a companion.

He has a bit of a temper and is quick to the jump at times, but he was always there for you and even though he doesn’t always see eye-to-eye with them at times, he respects his seniors and takes their lessons to heart.

When he talks about how much he dislikes his height or his feminine features, you nodded along for his sake but you couldn’t tell him that you were actually in disagreement. You adore his fluffy locks that you occasionally got to touch with his permission and his light blue eyes felt like calming waves of the purest lake. Epel constantly swore to you that he’ll have his growth spurt and will even tower Leona in height, but you like how you could hold him close to you without issue.

You love all that he is, even if he’s not too keen on some parts himself

But you kept this all to yourself. You thought Epel had other priorities on his mind and you were scared that confessing would ruin the friendship you’d built with him. For now, you were content to be by his side for however long you can.

You were dead tired during a particularly harsh Flying class with Coach Vargas and you were barely conscious enough to keep your eyes open. It took everything you had to just nod along to whatever Epel was saying, something about some Savanaclaw students?

“Who they think they are, callin’ me cute like that? I outta rip off their yapper for underestimatin’ me.” You weren’t helping his point when you thought how cute his accent was as he grumbled about his day. You were falling in and out of consciousness but thought you should at least reply back to your friend…anything at all…

“I’m sorry…that happened…even though…I think…you’re really cute…”

You were already out cold to notice your friend frozen in place as you finished your drowsy comment, your head landing on his stiff shoulders.

What happens now?

ALDFIUAHLBWAIGLH

Congratulations, you broke your friend and you don’t even remember it. When you woke up, you couldn’t figure out why Epel was as bright red as his hometown’s apples. Epel couldn’t even bring it up without getting too tongue-tied, his accent sputtering out incomprehensible words.

The blue-eyed freshman was raking his brain for an explanation. You thought he was cute…really cute to be precise, but what does that mean? Did you like him? As in like-like him? Is it normal for non-countryside folk to just say something like that? But most students around here tend to mean it like an insult but you weren’t like them, you would never do that to him. So what did you mean by it??

Left without a choice, Epel thought about who he could ask about this, maybe one of his seniors. But he immediately reconsidered when he realized who his seniors were (Vil and Rook will never let this go and there’s no way Leona would entertain this conversation) and turned to the only adult he can trust, his meemaw.

In his letter, he asked his grandma what it means when someone you cherish calls you cute (not mentioning who) and after a few days of fidgeting and awkward encounters with very confused you, he finally got an answer from her.

“STOP SITTIN’ ON YOUR KEISTER TWIDDLIN’ ‘ER THUMBS! GO AND ASK, DAGNABBIT!”

And that’s how you were confronted by a flustered Epel about your cute comment one random school day. To be fair, you probably didn’t fare any better when you realized you let your thoughts slip out.

You may have confessed your attraction to him but Epel can still be the first to make the first move. Relationships and dating are all new to the petite freshman and honestly he felt a little weak in the knees, all the nerves wracking his body like his first broom ride. But the past few days, he couldn’t stop thinking about being with you, sweeping you off your feet, impressing you the only way he can, to have your eyes solely on him like he does when you’re around. Heck, he thought what it’d be like to grow old with you, holding you like no one else can as you spend day and night by each other’s side. All these thoughts and more is what spur him to take the next step.

I ain’t too great on love and romance, but I’ll work hard to show ya how much ya mean to me. I promise that!

#of course three trouble-making people ends up being on the same post #fate really be like that sometimes #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #Ruggie Bucchi #ruggie x reader #chenya x reader #Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker #Chenya #epel felmier #epel x reader #lilia vanrouge #Lilia x reader #twst fluff

[houserautha]

These Destined Ends

Part 7

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

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: depictions of killing/death, a blood oath, oral sex f receiving, fingering, edging, dirty talk, p in v, no protection, breeding/pregnancy kink, creampie kind of

A/N: I hear wedding bells🎉 This took me a hot second to write up and edit, but it's also a little bit longer than I usually post. I hope you enjoy💕

Sleep evades you. The day of your wedding slips in uninvited, a wash of sunlight to chase away the shadows from your room. The bed is empty. Feyd-Rautha hasn’t returned or, at least, hasn’t visited you since.

You convince yourself that you don’t care.

But still your thoughts stray traitorously to him — where he is, what he’s doing, what he’s thinking and if it’s of you.

You stare out at the Grand Arena. It’s more or less attached to the Harkonnen fortress and, to your understanding, typically reserved for political rallies. It’s the only place large enough to host a wedding where the entire planet is invited, though, plus the added benefits of its close proximity.

A platform has been erected and already citizens are filing into their stadium-style seats despite the early hour. They will wait all day to sit front row at the marriage between House Atreides and House Harkonnen. A historic event, you realize with detached clarity. To be remembered for generations to come.

This does nothing to quell your roiling stomach.

You turn at the sound of your bedroom doors opening, hope lifting stupidly in your chest. Because it is not Feyd-Rautha who enters, but Lady Jessica.

She looks more radiant than ever, though you suspect this partially has to do with the time apart that you’ve spent.

“Mother?”

Perhaps your lack of rest has warped your vision.

Jessica smiles softly, confirming both your deepest fear and most shameful want. “Daughter.”

For the first time in your life, you run to her. She embraces you, cradling your face into her neck. She smells like home and the memory of Caladan has you blinking back tears. “Why are you here?”

“Did you really think we would miss your wedding?” Jessica brushes your hair back. “They are treating you well? You haven’t responded to any of our correspondences.”

“They are treating me well,” you tell her. You can’t help but think of Feyd-Rautha’s lips on your skin, between your legs, but quickly dismiss it. “And I haven’t received any correspondences.”

“Mm, as I suspected. Your father thought that you might be too busy to write but I knew better.”

“He’s here, too?”

“Of course.” Your mother presses something cold and metallic into your palm, curls your fingers around it. “I wanted to give you this.”

You frown. After closer inspection, you realize that it’s a necklace. Simple, elegant, with a thin silver chain and delicate pendant. “What is this?”

“I wore it when I first met your father. Although we are not married, our relationship has obviously grown past that of an arranged partnership. I can only hope you find similar happiness.” She pauses then, examining you. “I know you are aware that your birth was…orchestrated. But that does not change our love for you. You are our greatest treasure, Y/N.”

Your mood falters, slipping from between your fingers and shattering on the ground like glass. “This is a fertility necklace.”

“Yes,” Jessica says, dipping her chin.

You have the overwhelming sense to grind the necklace under your heel. The tears in your eyes now belong there for an entirely different reason.

“I thought you came here today to support me but instead you’re just carrying out your Bene Gesserit schemes,” you hiss. A dry laugh rattles in your throat. “I’m such a fool! You don’t care for me. You only care about what I can provide. My whole life, everything has been for them. Everything.”

Jessica’s jaw clenches. “That’s not true.”

Aggravated, you spin on her, teeth bared. “Then tell me you came here today of your volition.”

Jessica holds your gaze but does not reply.

“I knew it,” you all but snarl at her.

“I thought these past few months would’ve opened your eyes to your potential, the importance of your duty,” Jessica snarls back, matching your viciousness. “But still you are blind to the truth. You blatantly refuse to accept a plan that has been in effect for centuries. Ten thousand years of deliberate planning and you act as if you are here as punishment. You are living proof of the Bene Gesserit’s power, Y/N.”

Chest heaving, you shutter your raging emotions. “Leave me.”

“That’s no way to speak to your mother.”

“I speak to you not as a daughter,” you retort, “but as the na-Baroness of House Harkonnen. And seeing that you are nothing but a concubine to the Duke, I demand that you leave.”

You know that with The Voice, Jessica could force you to bend to her will, to do any inexplicable amount of things. But she does not. She stands there, wavering, before striding back from which she came from without another word.

You hide the fertility necklace in the pot of a synthetic plant, and no one is the wiser when they come to prepare you. For the servants this is a joyous occasion and you do not want to dampen their enthusiasm. You mask your growing unease, laughing and joking with the girls as they recreate you into the image of na-Baroness.

“You look stunning,” Asha tells you privately. There’s quite some time before the ceremony starts, and she’s pulled you into a quiet corner of the room. “The na-Baron isn’t going to know what to do with himself.”

Oh, you very much doubt that. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.

Your wedding dress is a subtle combination of both Atreides and Harkonnen culture, a blend of elegance and functionality.

The dress itself is made from a lightweight, flexible material that mimics the look of metallic plates. Featuring overlapping panels that creates a segmented, scale-like effect, the bodice gives the illusion of Harkonnen armor. But the skirt, full and flowing, is entirely Atreides — layers of fabric cascading to the floor. Small, metallic accents line the hem that shimmer with your every step.

And, completing the look, a headpiece that forms a sort of M over your forehead and down your cheeks, adorn with jewels.

You bite down on the inside of your cheek. “Have you seen him today? The na-Baron.”

“No, I haven’t. Why?”

“No reason.”

Asha’s mouth quirks teasingly. “Are you nervous?”

“No,” you say, too quickly, “well, yes. But not because of him, because of the ceremony. This will be my first time in front of Giedi Prime.”

“They will adore you,” Asha says. She waves a hand flippantly. “And if not, then your husband will have their heads.”

You grin. “I suppose that’s comforting.”

“Of course it is.” She squeezes your hand.

Your moment with Asha passes as you’re both pulled back into the revelries — spice-laden champagne, food that looks suspiciously like harvested organs, and the pounding, ear-splitting music that’s popular among the Harkonnens. By the time you’re called for the ceremony, your mood has lifted significantly, almost enough to make you forget that you’re the reason for celebration. It’s a sobering reminder.

Your heart threatens to burst from your chest. From inside the walls of the fortress, the roar of the crowd crests and falls like a tidal wave sent to sweep you away. The corridor is alive with mumbled conversation. A procession will precede you to the altar — noblemen and the likes, your parents, who you avoid — along with your betrothed, who is nowhere in sight. The gathered members of your bridal party shift and part, panic seizing you with white-knuckled fingers as the Baron maneuvers toward you.

He greets you with a saying repeated to you many times that day, one that after several iterations you’ve come to understand means, “May your death be swift in battle”.

How it relates to marriage, you are too nervous to inquire about.

“What a wonderful day,” he muses in a rasping lilt. “It would be a pity for someone to ruin it.”

“Indeed,” you reply, eyes narrowing.

“You understand the importance of the ceremony, don’t you?” You don’t respond, sensing that he will tell you nevertheless. “This is just one more step for Feyd-Rautha toward taking my place as Baron. How the ceremony goes will influence his standing with his people.”

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes. Of course this was just another political move. What did he think you would do, riot in the middle of the ceremony? You retort, “I understand.”

“Welcome to the family, Y/N.”

The chill that brushes down your spine, seeping into your bones, is deterred by the sudden clash of a gong. War drums erupt in tumultuous exalt. The very sound of them resonates deep within you, invoking a primal response of adrenaline, as if your body is preparing you for battle.

Which, you suppose is fitting.

And who else to be summoned by the promise of war then Feyd-Rautha.

He enters the room as he always does, commanding the attention of everyone in it. The effect is only amplified today, though, in his polished ceremonial armor and resolute intensity, a heady combination of brutality and valiancy.

Gazing at him us purifying fire, searing you from the inside out, and you take your time charting the unholy beauty of his face, gazing back at you with terrifying reverence.

In that moment, you possess no past or future — there is only him. An eternal now.

And then he steps past you and into the black sun, exultant, thrusting the knife above his head.

A championing cheer follows, impossibly louder than the thunder of the drums. Feyd-Rautha lingers and something in your chest expands at the sight of him dwelling in their approval, their admiration, somehow transcendent of any humanity he manages to have.

He truly is a god.

From your secretive position, you peer at him as he strides down the aisle to the platform where the officiant is waiting for him. At the top of the stairs, he turns and faces his people. In an act that surprises you, everyone who isn’t already on their feet rises, and in sync pound their fists to their chests. One two three.

Their utter devotion to him is staggering.

Feyd-Rautha raises his chin, simultaneously moved and expectant of this. He then takes his place at the altar.

Which means it’s your turn.

You loathe having to follow such a devastating display of power and love. There’s no telling how Giedi Prime will react to you, after all, considering that you are technically the enemy. Asha’s words come to you, emboldening you, and you lift your gaze. You will not falter.

A shushed quiet falls over the arena as you stride out, then enormous applause. You can only imagine what you look like to them, your people, but the only one who matters looks upon you with such unwavering devoutness that it nearly brings you to your knees. As you climb the steps to the altar, Feyd-Rautha’s hands clench into fists, a gesture you interpret as a sign of restraint.

Oh, if only he could touch you with those hands.

The officiant, a representative of the Imperium, begins to recite the traditional Harkonnen wedding script. A translator repeats the words to you, but you let the harsh language wash over you as you focus instead on the row of guests at the base of the altar. Your parents — looking fiercely protective, Leto smiling somewhat reluctantly; Jessica maintaining her cool demeanor — the Baron, emotionless, and beside him Rabban.

Did he wish it was him on the stage?

He catches you staring and flashes you a sickening smile. You look pointedly away, a fist forming in your stomach.

The beginning of the ceremony is tediously long and drenched in tradition, most of which you don’t understand even with the translator’s help. Marriage is not generally a romantic affair for Harkonnens, and the proof can be found in their strangely clinical rites. Again it’s impressed upon you that you are preparing for battle, one in which you would reside besides the most fearsome of its participants.

A pause on the officiant’s part draws you back to the present. You know what comes next, and the thought repulses you — Harkonnens of the Imperial House do not get married with the weight of enemies on their shoulders, pursuing a clean slate of sorts. You watch as a row of prisoners are led before the altar, hooded and bound and forced to their knees by a Harkonnen guard. You shiver despite the insurmountable heat.

You are familiar with war, with combat, the knife-thin edge upon which each fight balances. Life or death. But you can hardly stomach the idea of executing a helpless opponent, even if they are an enemy of your House.

Your throat thickens as Feyd-Rautha is bestowed a ceremonial blade.

Each hood of the prisoner is removed except for one, a man at the end who wavers to stay upright. Feyd-Rautha ignores this man, starting at the opposite end. His grin is apparent as he slashes through the throats of the prisoners, the blade his brush and the bodies his canvas, painting them both with ink-colored blood.

When Feyd-Rautha makes it to the still-hooded man, he pauses, shoulders heaving with the exertion of his wicked precision. Rivulets of blood stream down his armor. He says something unintelligible to the man, then removes his hood.

Your blood runs cold as you recognize him.

Ze’ev.

Now that you know who it is, you inspect him closer. There’s hardly any traces of the man you briefly knew. He is emaciated, bones lining his scarred flesh, clearly beaten within an inch of his life. After your encounter with Feyd-Rautha, you know that Harkonnens heal quickly, and the scars on his body indicate to you that he had been torn open again and again.

Feyd-Rautha turns. When he approaches you, his face is full of such naked adoration that it causes you to take a step back. He offers you the bloodied blade.

“For you,” he rasps.

You whisper fiercely, “What are you doing?”

“He is a gift, for you. On the day of our wedding.”

Every fiber of your being is screaming at you to refuse him. But to do so would be to decline your husband, shame him in front of his people — bile rises in your throat as you accept the blade, your fingers wrapping around the handle.

You breeze past him, refusing to meet his eye.

Ze’ev trembles as you advance on him. Though from his delicate condition or fear, you can’t be sure. His lips form a sneer. “You won’t do it.”

“It’s nice to see you, too,” you say dryly. “I thought you were dead.”

“I should be. Your husband certainly brought me to the brink of it and back, telling me that he was saving me. For you.” Ze’ev spits at your feet then, a dark and bloody glob.

On Arrakis, this would’ve been a sign of respect.

But this wasn’t Arrakis.

You raise your arm in an upward swing, then across your body with exuberance, his blood hissing as it splatters the ground. Splatters you.

The crowd applauds your demonstration, and the sound of their approval echoes in your ears as you take the stage once more, the prisoners’ bodies carted away quickly. You feel numb. Bewildered.

But also deliciously righteous.

You face the man who put you in this position, who put the blade in your hand as a gift without considering the consequences. And he smiles because he knows — he knows that you are delighted, that the freckles of drying blood elicit an indisputable, terrifying delirium in you.

He coaxed this from you, what was better left in the dark.

And you don’t know if you should thank him.

The officiant switches to the common tongue. “The time has come to bind these lives together in the sight of their people. As na-Baron and na-Baroness, they pledge their loyalty and protection to one another, their flesh and blood now shared in duty and alliance.”

A second blade is brought out on a satin cushion.

“na-Baron Feyd-Rautha, do you swear to protect and defend na-Baroness Y/N, to uphold her honor and safeguard her well-being, as your duty demands?”

“I swear.”

“na-Baroness Y/N, do you swear to protect and defend na-Baron Feyd-Rautha, to uphold his honor and safeguard his well-being, as your duty demands?”

You dip your chin. “I swear.”

“Then, as symbol of your shared duty and alliance, I ask you to exchange your blood.”

Feyd-Rautha takes the blade and, with surprising gentleness, turns your palm over and kisses it before gliding the tip of the blade over it. Your blood wells, bright red.

You take his own hand — large, scarred and calloused — and repeat the action.

Before he can heal, the officiant wraps a white cloth around your now joined hands, red blood mingling with black.

“You are my body, an extension of myself,” Feyd-Rautha rasps.

You tense. This isn’t part of the ceremony.

Feyd-Rautha, one hand still clasped in yours, uses the other to beat his chest. One two three. You watch as the crowd responds in kind: the same gesture, reverberating throughout Giedi Prime.

It’s incredibly intoxicating, to be the focus of such a powerful gesture. You let it wash over your skin and infiltrate your bloodstream, alter something inside you, rearranging your very cells into what it takes to be a fearless ruler. You would do anything to garner such a response again.

The officiant waits until the last thump can be heard before he declares, “May your bond be as unbreakable as the strongest fortress. United by duty and alliance, I present to you — the na-Baron and na-Baroness!”

Having spent so much time dreading the ceremony, you never stopped to think about what would happen after it. Currently you sit atop the dais in the throne room, accepting an endless line of Harkonnens who want to congratulate you on your feat of an arranged marriage. Your palm that the blade cut stings with every hand you shake.

After what seems like a small eternity, it’s time for you to join the nobles at the reception. Memories of the last time you sat at the table trickle in through your exhaustion — which you promptly shove away.

The feast passes in a blur. You don’t have the appetite for any of it, but hopefully do a convincing job of moving your food around on your plate.

And then: it’s time for your first dance.

Reluctantly you let Feyd-Rautha sweep you into the center of the room, the usual security you feel in his presence succumbing to your own fears. He holds you tight against him. His tone is clipped, political, plush lips on the shell of your ear, “You had never killed before.”

Ah, your first words as husband and wife.

“No I had never killed before,” you snap at him. “Not everyone goes around just slaughtering whoever they feel like.”

Feyd-Rautha is a surprisingly agile dancer, though you figure that it isn’t all that removed from fighting. “I didn’t intend to upset you.”

“Perhaps, but you did.” Your throat thickens. “What I did is irreversible.”

“You told me you wanted him to pay for what he did.”

“I-I did. I just didn’t think —”

“If you let someone who crosses you live, then others will try,” Feyd-Rautha says, incensed. “You must strangle the serpent while it’s a hatchling, for once it grows, it will seek you out while you lay in your bed and slip around your neck.”

You can’t suppress your shudder. What a lovely metaphor. Apparently Giedi Prime has loads of fun phrases alluding to death.

“You could’ve told me,” you mutter in lieu of a response.

“It was a gift.”

You bite down on the inside of your cheek. Was that all it was? Another part of your game?

“Most people give jewelry as gifts,” you retort.

Feyd-Rautha’s lips twitch. “I am not most people.”

“I know.” To prove your point, you coast your fingers over his side where the dagger went in.

He pulls you tighter against him. “I would have you right here in front of everyone if you’d let me.”

You can’t help but smirk. “I know.”

He opens his mouth to continue but he’s interrupted — by Rabban, nonetheless. “na-Baron, I request a dance with my sister in-law.”

Feyd-Rautha’s grip on you tightens. “No.”

“Yes,” you say, loosening his fingers from around your waist. “It won’t be long.”

Feyd-Rautha stares after you unhappily as his brother leads you away. Other couples have now taken to the floor in an elaborate dance that you don’t know. It doesn’t matter anyway, seeing that Rabban just drags you after him for each step.

“I suppose congratulations are in order,” he says finally.

“You suppose?”

“If it was up to me, Feyd-Rautha would be the one extending his congratulations.” Rabban’s small, dark eyes examine you. “Though the Bene Gesserits have chosen well for a Harkonnen bride. You are a formidable force.”

“Thank you,” you reply, sensing more.

“There are…things…in order that will happen because you will not submit to me,” Rabban says.

Your jaw sets. “Like what?”

“You’ve made your choice.” There’s a twinge of pity in his voice. Not for him. For you? “I thought I should forewarn you.”

“Rabban, what are you talking about? You never said anything about —”

“The day of the Crucible. I told you my wishes and you denied me them.”

“You said nothing that would warrant a warning. I thought you just envious of your brother for obtaining something else that you can’t have.”

“Envious? No. More deserving? Perhaps.”

Behind Rabban, a soldier materializes from the crowd. Sardaukar. You stiffen — it hadn’t come to your attention that anyone from the Imperium had attended your wedding.

“Excuse my interruption,” the soldier says. “I wanted to congratulate you on your union on behalf of the Emperor. He extends his deepest apologies that he isn’t t able to be here himself.”

You nod curtly.

The soldier’s gaze slides to Rabban. “May I have a word with you?”

Begrudgingly, Rabban releases you with a final look. You watch his retreating form, mind reeling with confusion. What did the Sardaukar want with Rabban? And why did the soldier look so familiar to you? Idly, you wonder if the violent nature of the Sardaukar soldiers remind you of the Harkonnens.

No, that isn’t it. That soldier had been here before, at the dinner a few weeks before. He had been the one to call the Baron away, you recall. But he had been dressed as a Harkonnen soldier then, not a soldier of the Imperial army.

The revelation creeps over you uneasily.

Before you can give it much thought, however, someone whisks you away into the next dance. A protest forms on your tongue before you realize it’s Asha — cheeks pink and beaming at you.

“Asha!” You can’t help but laugh, partly out of relief. “I thought you were another terrible admirer.”

“I am an admirer,” she says, “though I would hardly consider myself terrible.”

“Terrible for taking so long to get to me.”

“My apologies, but the na-Baroness is in high demand.” You settle into a comfortable rhythm as the music plays and Asha leads you in the unfamiliar dance. After some time, she grows uncharacteristically serious. “I know your feelings for the na-Baron are…complicated…but your ceremony was beautiful.”

You raise a brow. “Really?”

“The way he saluted you…” Asha trails off, waving her hand as if to ward off tears. This reaction spurns your curiosity.

Trying not to sound too interested, you ask, “What does it even mean?”

A slightly dreamy expression crosses Asha’s face. “Generally it’s reserved for military generals as a sign of respect, something that soldiers do to show their loyalty.”

“So when he did it to me…?”

“He was signaling that he sees you as someone superior to himself, someone to respect. That he is your willing soldier.” Asha grins. “Everyone has been talking about it.”

“Oh.” It’s all you can think to say. “Should I have done it back?”

Asha shakes her head. “Definitely not. It would’ve been an insult to him. His judgement. You did the right thing.”

You’re not sure what the right thing was, but you let the subject go. It lingers in your mind, however, to the point that you over-analyze the moment during the ceremony, replaying Feyd-Rautha’s expression as he saluted you.

You want to confront him about it, but apparently your first dance is all you will see of your new husband on the eve of your wedding. Even trying to catch his eye is impossible as you are both continuously pulled in different directions.

“Is this a bad time?”

At first you bristle, afraid that you’ve been caught sneaking away from the festivities. You have no idea of the time but it has to be well into the morning now, and you just wanted a moment to collect your thoughts. The spot you’ve chosen in a darken alcove gave you a perfect vantage point of Feyd-Rautha, infuriatingly charming as he speaks to a pair of nobles out of earshot.

You tear your gaze from him.

“Father!” You run into the arms of Leto, Duke of Arrakis, who ambles down the hall to you. It’s reflective of your greeting with Jessica this morning, but he inspires only warmth and fond memories. The brush of his beard across your cheek fills you with longing. “Oh, how I’ve missed you.”

“I apologize for not going this morning to visit you. Your mother insisted she go alone.” A frown tugs on his handsome features but disappears as quick as it appeared. “You look breathtaking.”

“Thank you,” you sigh. It’s as if you are a child again, the light of your father’s attention basking you in a sunny glow.

“I…” Leto pauses, deliberates. Your father is usually not someone to be lost for words. “I wish I had done something to prevent this.”

You touch his arm. “It’s not your fault.”

“I blame myself, it’s true. What kind of father willingly hands his daughter over to that…monster?”

“You had no choice. Neither of us did.”

“Listen, Y/N, your mother regrets how your conversation went this morning. She has only wanted the best for you,” he adds softly.

His words prick at you, and suddenly the warmth of his light diminishes. “We both know that’s not true.”

“Her intentions can be…muddled by her Bene Gesserit training. But that doesn’t change the love she feels for you.”

“Her love.” You chuckle bitterly. “All that she loves is what others can do to forward the Bene Gesserit agenda. You. Me. Don’t you realize?”

Leto’s expression softens. “Just come with me. She’s waiting for us. She wants to try again.”

Anger seizes you with white-knuckles and stifling heat, blooming in your chest. “I’ve given her too many opportunities to make things right. You just told me that you wish you could’ve prevented this. She could’ve prevented this. I do not wish to speak another word to someone who has orchestrated my entire life since conception.”

Perhaps you can blame the time that you’ve spent apart, the exhaustive events the day has presented you, but there is a side to Leto that you have forgotten — his frightening, unwavering loyalty to Jessica. A loyalty that not even you, his daughter, can temper.

His voice is that of a diplomat, detached and commanding as he says, “You will not speak of your mother in such a way.”

You’re not sure what you were expecting, but jumping to the defense of your mother cuts you deeper than any knife can. You swallow your disappointment.

“You’re fooled by her just like everyone else.”

Leto’s mouth tightens into an angry slash. “You are not the daughter I remember.”

“No.” You tilt your chin. “She is gone.”

“Then I have no business with you.”

Your tongue rolls in your cheek, over your teeth, carefully selecting your next words. “So be it. I won’t inconvenience you with my company.”

You can’t stand to witness his expression, or let him see the grimace of pain that graces yours, so you turn from him before either happens. You go, not back towards the party, but away — you can’t be here any longer. It feels as if your bones are trying to flee from your skeleton, your skin suddenly stretched too tightly.

Truthfully you have no destination in mind but your feet carry you to the one place that you know will guarantee silence.

Feyd-Rautha’s strategy room.

In the dark your fingers find the seam of the door and you ease it open, slinking inside. For the first time since this morning, you’re alone, and there’s no auditory assault of voices or music.

Back against the wall, you slide down to the ground and pull your knees to your chest. You will tears to your eyes but there are none to summon, lost to the icy numbness claiming you. Any other feeling is cast adrift.

Could it have only been three months ago that you were on Arrakis, sparring with Gurney?

You no longer recognize yourself.

The closest identifying factor is when the door open and Feyd-Rautha appears. There’s a resemblance there, a call of darkness in him that something within you answers. Your mouth twists in distaste. How did he find you?

“Go away.”

“No.”

“I don’t want you here.”

“I don’t care. This is my strategy room, and I can come and go as I please.” Cast in shadows, you can barely make out his face, but the scorch of his gaze is telling of his scrutiny. “Get up off the floor.”

“No.”

“Get up or I’ll make you.”

You weigh his words. Then you reluctantly rise to your feet, unable to look at him.

“This…attitude is unbecoming of you.”

“You’re a prick,” you fire back.

“A na-Baroness, brooding alone — and on the floor, nonetheless, like a common stray. I won’t tolerate this kind of behavior.”

“Or what?”

A muscle feathers in his jaw. “I will have to remind you who you are.”

Heat flickers in your belly, a weak flame. “And what is that? A whore, a womb? I am nothing but what others have made me to be.”

Feyd-Rautha laughs.

He actually laughs.

The sound of which is so unnatural, so unnerving, that your muscles tense like they’re anticipating a fight. You flush with shame — anger — and raise your hand to strike him but Feyd-Rautha catches your wrist. His words lilt with ill-timed amusement.

“Surely you don’t believe that.”

You struggle to wrest yourself from his grasp, but the effort is futile. “Let go of me.”

“No. Never.”

Feyd-Rautha’s lips crash into yours. He steers your back to the wall, colliding with your spine. He swallows your cry of pain with his mouth, slanting it over yours, hands bracketing either side of your face. His fingers delve into your hair, pads of his thumbs pressing against your cheeks. The weak flame inside you ignites into a raging inferno.

He kisses you with a fierce, concentrated energy, as if his sole purpose is to bruise your mouth with his own. His tongue flickers across your bottom lip, behind your teeth. You moan at the same time Feyd-Rautha chooses to coast his hands down your sides and your head lolls back, neck bared.

He grabs onto you as his mouth flies to your exposed throat, hands greedily clutching at your waist. Feyd-Rautha presses a series of kisses that turn swiftly into nibbles, bites. He sucks and licks at your neck, no doubt creating a necklace of love marks, eagerly staking his claim on the sensitive skin. Each bite and lick winds you closer and closer to an orgasm, the idea of his lips marking you wickedly delightful.

Feyd-Rautha moves his hands to your ass, to the underside of your thighs, and hikes you up. Without thinking, you lock your legs around him. The action brings his hardened length nudging against your center and you whimper, grinding into him, desperate for friction.

“I want you so fucking bad,” you pant. “Please.”

He hums against your neck. “What did you say you were — a whore?” His hips roll with yours, the memory of him inside you inciting a moan from your lips. “The na-Baron doesn’t bother fucking whores.”

“Please,” you say again.

In response, Feyd-Rautha bites down on the juncture of your neck and shoulder. You wince even as pleasure floods over you. “Beg all you want but I won’t fuck a whore.”

You fail to conjure a response as he pins you to the wall with his hips, your arms thrown around his neck, and effectively loosens his hands in order to hoist your dress up. Your flesh pimples as it’s exposed to the cool air of the strategy room.

Feyd-Rautha’s hands skim over you, brush over your center. You whimper, “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to tell me who you are,” he rasps.

Feyd-Rautha teases your clit through your panties, drawing lazy circles with his fingers. You buck your hips in an effort to gain reprieve but he denies you this.

Your voice pitches nearly into a whine. “I-I don’t know.”

And you don’t — not after the sequence of your day, not with Feyd-Rautha unraveling you with his his hands and his mouth. You are infinitesimal, insignificant, clay waiting to be shaped in his capable touch.

“Then I will remind you,” Feyd-Rautha says. He pushes your panties to the side, ghosting his digits over your entrance so that you writhe in desperation. “You are my wife, the na-Baroness of the House Harkonnen. You will raze cities to the ground and bring men to their knees. I will fuck you often and fill you with my seed, keep you pregnant so that you bear my children. You are not nothing, you are magnificent.”

His words are punctuated by his short, breathy pants, fingers pressing to your cunt without giving you any of the pleasure that you seek.

“Now — tell me who you are.”

“I-I am the na-Baroness. I am your wife.”

A wail looses from you as Feyd-Rautha plunges his fingers inside you, relieved from your aching by his careful ministrations. Each pump of his hand brings his palm to your sex, quick and authoritative. A hand that had killed six men today, saluted you, bled with you, and the severity of the situation has your walls clenching around him — he is Feyd-Rautha, and he is fucking you with his fingers, littering your body with bites and kisses and mumbled, appreciative praises.

It’s not surprising that this drives you to orgasm with record speed, to alleviating the pressure building between your legs —

Feyd-Rautha removes his fingers, depriving you of your release. You almost howl in frustration.

“Close,” he says. “But I’m not convinced.”

“No, please —”

“You can cum once you’ve convinced me that you remember who you are. Until then — your pleasure will be withheld.”

Again, he punishes you with his fingers, splitting you open as he inserts them. Your back bows.

“Now,” he pants, “tell. Me. Again.”

“I am the na-Baroness. I am your wife,” you repeat, mustering as much conviction as you can. You would tell him anything if it meant cumming on his fingers.

Harder, faster, wrist snapping: “And?”

“And…I am magnificent.”

Feyd-Rautha’s satisfaction is evident even in the dark, judging only by the pulse of his fingers, the breathy laugh fanning into your neck. He removes his fingers again, though, to your chagrin, trading positions for one that allows him to see your face. “Oh, you are,” he purrs. “And I bet you taste even better.”

You hitch your legs around his shoulders at his prompting. Feyd-Rautha sinking to his knees while applying enough weight to keep you trapped against the wall. You suppress another whimper. Your thighs are nearly flush with your chest as Feyd-Rautha dips his head to greet your cunt, driving you higher up the wall and forcing you to grab onto his armor for support.

You can’t see him with the skirt of your dress in the way, but you feel his mouth hovering your entrance.

Feyd-Rautha presses a kiss to you. He flicks his tongue over your clit, then licks a stripe up your center back to it, lapping eagerly between your thighs. His mouth works in tandem with his tongue, his teeth, treating you to the same nipping and sucking that he administered to your neck. Your hips buck to meet his every stroke.

And then, there it is again, your orgasm fighting for completion, raking claws of molten lava through your belly, your pelvis.

From between your legs, Feyd-Rautha rasps, “Convince me and I’ll let you cum.”

You swallow down a cry of protest. If you don’t get your release, you might actually implode. You do your best to summon his words from before, “I am the na-Baroness. I am your wife. And I am magnificent.”

“And how will I fuck you?”

Your teeth grind as you recall, “Often.”

“Why?”

“To-To keep me pregnant,” you stammer out. You rarely allow yourself to imagine your body in such a state, afraid of what it will invoke, but you do now: belly swollen with Feyd-Rautha’s child, breasts full, a physical manifestation of the vigorous fucking he regularly bestows.

And just like that, like the snapping of a rubberband, he returns his mouth to your cunt and laps at you until you finally, finally, reach your orgasm. Feyd-Rautha holds you steady as the prolonged release cleaves you in half, shuddering against his mouth, your vision swimming with stars. Tears wet your cheeks with your relief.

You sag into him, and he effortlessly lifts you back to your feet, still trapping you to the wall, one hand lazily skimming your hip.

“Do not, ever again, think so lowly of yourself. Do you understand?”

Your head bobbles stupidly. “I understand.”

“Good.” He brushes hair back from your face, runs his finger along the scattering of angry welts he’s left on your neck. “Now, my jewel, how do you want me to fuck you?”

You commit him to memory, this renegade angel, a contrast of darkness and your own personal deliverance. “I’ll let you choose.”

Without missing a beat, Feyd-Rautha carries you to the strategy table and lays you flat on your back, maneuvering to grab your ankles, one in each hand and spreading you wide. He takes his straining cock from his pants and strokes it as he admires you. “Mm, my beautiful wife, so eager for me to fuck her.”

He traces your entrance with his fingers, then notches his cock there, sliding the tip of it between your slick folds. You ache to take him but with your ankles in his grip, he keeps you firmly in place. Like a silly, wanton thing, you try desperately to grind against him as he drags himself, up and down, teasing you.

“Please, Feyd,” you beg, “please fuck me.”

“Say it again.”

“Fuck me, Feyd. Please.”

The ridges and crests of the strategy table bite into your back as he drives into you. The ecstasy of finally having him inside you is almost too much to bear — hips snapping, groans rumbling through his chest. He is inspired like this, immersed in the feel of your walls clamping down on his cock, pupils blown, plush lips parted with each panting breath.

If you only you could bottle up this moment, savor the way you both rise to meet the other like waves upon the shores of Caladan.

He pounds into you in a borderline frenzy, each near-violent thrust surging your orgasm higher.

Then Feyd-Rautha releases your ankles, your legs returning around his waist, and he captures your wrists instead, holding them over your head. The angle allows him to press himself to you, spearing you deeper, winding your desire tighter and tighter.

“My wife,” he rasps, “my jewel. Look at me.”

You meet his gaze. Feyd-Rautha smirks, pleased with himself, with you, and thrusts into you with swift finality. Your orgasm peaks and suddenly you’re shuddering and convulsing beneath him, pleasure wrought from every fiber of your being.

Distantly, you feel your cunt draw out Feyd-Rautha’s own orgasm, hips rolling against you as he spills himself inside you. He collapses on top of you, both of you panting, greedily drinking in lungfuls of air. Ostensibly, he recovers first and peels himself from you, tucking his cock back into his pants.

He helps you to your feet and you thank him breathlessly, thighs quivering as you stand, the wrinkled skirt of your dress cascading back to the ground.

“I suppose no one will question whether or not we’ve consummated our marriage,” he says.

Your cheeks burn. “Does it matter?”

“It’s typical for someone to watch to confirm,” he tells you, lifting a shoulder. “I said that it would be obvious enough.”

You gasp and swat his chest. “You didn’t.”

“The alternative was some noble peeking in on our fucking. Would you have preferred that? I do know you like to watch.”

“I suppose I wouldn’t,” you admit.

“Precisely.”

Feyd-Rautha’s eyes flicker over your face, and you can only guess what he sees there — you’re coated in a thin sheen of sweat and, undoubtedly, love marks, hair tangled and headpiece askew.

You shy away from him. “Do we have to go back to the reception?”

“No,” he nearly snorts, affronted that you would even suggest such a thing. “I fully intend on taking you to my bed and fucking you until you’re a mewling, quivering mess.”

Your cunt, still full with his cum, dripping with it down your thighs, clenches in anticipation.

“Then what are we still doing here?”

Part 8

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[ericscroptop]

Good Girls Ride

✧ pairing: bf! xiaojun x gf! reader

✦ genre: smut

✧ warnings: 18+ (minors DNI), smut, p!rn without plot, cursing, cowgirl position, riding, unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names, kissing

✦ word count: 3.1k words

✧ synopsis: plain and simple: it’s your first time riding dejun.

⊹₊ ⋆ ⊹₊ ⋆ ⊹₊ ⋆ ⊹₊ ⋆ ⊹₊ ⋆ ⊹₊ ⋆ ⊹₊ ⋆ ⊹₊ ⋆ ⊹₊ ⋆ ⊹₊ ⋆ ⊹₊ ⋆ ⊹₊ ⋆ ⊹₊ ⋆

Your head rested against Dejun’s shoulder while your body had found home comfortably in his lap, cuddled into his chest as you guys spent time lazily watching movies together.

Now usually when men watch movies with their girlfriends, it often leads to sex because they can’t seem to keep it in their pants.

But right now, it is you who can’t seem to focus on the television with your hot boyfriend so close to you.

Dejun had his undivided attention on the film currently playing. He’s been raving about this action film that came out recently— of which, you honestly couldn’t give a rat’s ass about.

Though, you agreed to watch this movie when you saw how his eyes lit up in elation when he discovered it had been added to streaming services.

You obliged since he always went along with what you wanted to do and put your needs first 95% of the time.

He perpetually gave you princess treatment and attention. Always allowing you to be the one to choose what to eat when you two were eating out. Letting you be in charge of aux when you were his passenger princess. And, he always ensures that you’re satisfied and reached your climax every single time you two had intercourse.

Dejun was consistently sweet to you. You loved him for that. He took care of you beyond well and you never took for granted his sweet nature.

Though, that’s what should make moments that surround him and his desires a bit more special. Your boyfriend rarely complains in allowing you to pick and choose most of the time. In fact, he encourages it. He loves giving you what you want and no matter what he does with you, he’s just grateful that you’re by his side.

And so, you really want to be able to sit through this 3 hour-long movie with your boyfriend, as he’d been more than eager to show you something he’s interested in.

But this genre of movie isn’t particularly your favorite. And you know Dejun is well aware it’s not really your vibe.

Which is why he has you pulled into his lap. So you could remain still and held securely in his embrace to watch this movie like a good girl.

Not only was boredom beginning to strike your brain, but you also had a habit of having the inability to stay still. You made way too many movements— whether big or small.

You squirmed so much like a worm. You often had to reposition yourself or fidget as long as you were awake and weren’t focused.

It especially was hitting you now that your ass covered by thin leggings rested over Dejun’s lap and crotch, covered in those lightweight, mesh basketball shorts he always wore when lounging around the house.

Not to mention, he was wearing a black muscle tank that tormented you by having his bare arms on display.

His left arm was currently draped over your shoulder, the palm of his hand and fingers occasionally giving you gentle touches over your own arm and shoulder.

Locking in on this movie way out of your taste was already hard enough on its own, and your boyfriend merely existing was making it even harder.

You can’t help the sexual appetite you suddenly have now. Your mind drifts off to the pretty noises your boyfriend made in bed and how his body fit so well against yours. How he loved when you tugged on his hair and massaged it. How he’s just always so good to you and it makes you want to get on your knees for him.

You just love the shit out of him and want to be buried deep inside him for life.

A sigh leaves your mouth while you crane your neck to graze your lips over his neck. Your eyelids shut as you dot feathery kisses over his skin, humming in pleasure as you do so.

Dejun’s hold on you tightens a bit once your teeth begin to nip his neck, sucking in a breath.

“Hey… what are you doing, love?” his eyes are doing their best to stay focused on the movie whilst your lips stuck over his neck like a magnet.

He was too keen on watching this movie for weeks now, but nothing stops you when lust takes over.

“Just obsessed with you.” you mumbled into his skin, continuing in kissing him up and probably leaving a mark or two in the process.

Your body begins to squirm over him, shifting your ass from side to side even within his hold in attempt to stimulate his dick to get him hard.

Your ears pick up on him swallowing hard at your actions, and you bounce over him carefully, but enough to get him to draw out a low moan.

He can feel your lips curve into a smile over his skin. Your dominant hand finds its way into his scalp, massaging it lovingly. Your other hand rests on the back of his neck.

“You’re just always so needy, huh? Always want my attention.” Dejun teases, and you remove your mouth from his neck to look him in the eyes.

“Can’t help myself, Junie. You’re so hot.” your gaze stays concentrated on his pupils, looking at him with bedroom eyes and mouth slightly parted as you grind into him. The both of you hiss at the feeling of each other’s crotch against one another and the friction created.

“Tell you what. Since you’re being all cute over my lap right now, why don’t we go take this to the bed and you can ride me?”

Your movements halt, mouth agape from his words and confidence faded away.

He smirks at your expression, and only reaches a hand down to your thigh to pat it gently.

“Since you don’t want to watch the movie I chose, the least you can do is do what I want in the bedroom. Can you do that for me, pretty?”

———————————————————————————

And so you agreed.

The two of you neglected the movie and headed to the bedroom, quickly discarding all your clothes between heated kisses and teasing.

Now, you sit in front of Dejun. His legs are spread out on either side of you, and his arms are leaned back behind him, holding himself up on the bed.

His eyes sparkled at you in anticipation. Waiting for you to split yourself open and welcome his manhood up inside you.

Though, you can only stare dumbly at his veiny cock and swallow hard.

You’re aching to feel his length inside you, but you’ve never actually rode anyone before.

You didn’t know what it felt like to be on top. And something about sinking down onto his dick just seemed really intimidating.

Taking control in this way was foreign to you. Being pampered and Dejun doing all the work was what you were used to.

The spotlight was on you. Of course you’ve seen explicit content and heard about what it’s like to be on top, but that’s it. You weren’t sure if you could execute the proper skills and avoid embarrassing yourself.

“Jun… I’ve never been on top before.” you look at his eyes with an innocent stare.

“I don’t know if I can do it, babe.” a pout forms on your lips, causing your boyfriend to chuckle.

He knows you secretly just want him to do what you’re used to. Bending you over and fucking the shit out of you. But he wants to challenge you for once.

He saw how eager you were to kiss him up and tease your ass over his crotch just a bit ago. He knows you have it in you to ride him. You can take it for him.

“You can do it, baby. I’m right here incase you need help.” he reassures you, bringing his thumb to your cheek and rubbing it sweetly.

You half smile nervously at him, still a bit hesitant at proceeding with the act of riding him.

But, you trust Dejun so much. He would never hurt you or make you feel bad. If he thinks you can do it, then you believe him.

Your dominant hand reaches for his cock. It twitches at your touch and your fingers begin to lube up his length with his own precum.

Your teeth catch your bottom lip in hold and Dejun feels hot in feeling and seeing you touch his dick and adjusting yourself over him to bring his length close to your pussy.

Cock within your hold, you start to play with the head against your folds to get you wet enough to take him, causing Dejun’s breathing to increase and you whimper at the contact.

“C’mon baby. I got you.” Dejun whispers and brings a hand to your wrist, his touch encouraging you to welcome him in.

And so you do.

He helps you put it in. You align yourself over him well with his aid and his cock head enters your hole. You hiss with eyes shut as you sink down him inch by inch, resting your legs on either side of him, and your boyfriend says nothing but words of encouragement during the process of his length stretching you out.

You let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding once he bottoms you out, prompting you to whine at the feeling of fullness.

“C’mere.” your boyfriend coos and you carefully lean over towards his face to connect your lips with his, each of your hands resting on one another’s body.

You two make out for a minute while you cock warm him. He lets you get used to him being inside you in this way for a moment so you could get comfortable and less tense.

And you do loosen up. Your mouth moved in sync with his own, and you begin to rock your hips back and forth, grinding over him as the desperation to get yourself off waves over you.

Your arms wrap around his neck and his hands feel all up on the curves and edges of your body while you grind over his cock.

Your hips play around with moving back and forth and moving in a circular motion, testing out the waters.

A filthy moan then leaves your mouth at the stimulation of grinding your clit, making a smirk appear on Dejun’s face as you get used to this.

“I wanna feel you fucking yourself over me. You can do that for me, can you, pretty?” his voice low.

You only whimper in response. Your hands let go from around his neck and find new settlement on his shoulders and chest.

Your hips then lift carefully, starting to move up and down over his length. Your moist pussy letting half of his length slip in and out repeatedly, but slowly.

His hands hold your hips securely, and his eyes are gleaming as he watches you work yourself up and down, mouth open while you concentrate and use his cock like a toy.

Seeing you like this is captivating. The sexual passion you have is strong.

He is in awe at how beautiful your entire being is, and dives into your right breast, beginning to kiss the soft flesh.

It adds more stimulation onto you, fucking up your brain at the pleasure being brought to your sensitive areas.

His tongue coats your erect nipple, leaving his saliva and wetness all over your breast and he then starts hungrily sucking hickeys onto the skin as best as he can, and repeating the same with your other breast. “Fucking hell, you’re gonna ruin me.” he mumbled in between attacking your mounds.

You continue to slide yourself and bounce over him, breath hitching as you do so repeatedly.

Evidently though, you’re starting to feel tired. Unfortunately for you, you don’t have good enough stamina and your thighs are starting to burn from this new position.

You sink back all the way down, beginning to go back to grinding yourself over him at a steady pace. You love the way grinding brings so much stimulation to your swollen clit, and it has you smiling. You moan and let free a couple hushed gasps in satisfaction at the feeling.

Dejun mimics your smile and groans at your neediness and desperation.

It’s turning him on in seeing you attempt to get yourself off right on top of him in full naked view, so filled up with his thick cock— working so hard to fuck yourself over him.

Though, Dejun admits that he did like seeing you bounce up and down his cock, watching his cock split you open.

As much as he loves watching you grinding right now, he thinks it’s time for him to take over.

“Love seeing you like this, pretty. But I think it’s time for me to take over, yeah?”

His hands move over to your ass cheeks, massaging them before his fingers start digging deep into the flesh.

You suddenly gasp when he lifts you up carefully over his cock, starting to slide you up and down over his length.

His hips begin to thrust upwards, fucking you at his own pace and to his own pleasure.

“Ahhh— Dejun!” you practically scream at Dejun’s sudden take over.

Your eyes concentrate on his face, watching the hunger that is deeply visible in his pupils as he follows a rhythm within his thrusts. His nails are deeply dug into your bottom as he uses his strength to lift you up and down. Groans and irregular breaths leave his throat at the feeling of your walls stroking his cock.

You can’t help but start to alternate between tightening and loosening your walls at the feeling of Dejun using his cock to his control. It’s sending him into overdrive, and makes him even hungrier for you two to reach climax. His thick brows tighten together and his chest heaved with every plunge.

“Mhm, you like when I have control— don’t you, baby?” your boyfriend grunts as he raises his hips, making him reach inside of you deeper and come in contact with your cervix.

High pitched moans escape your throat at the feeling, and you tilt yourself forward a bit. Practically gripping onto his chest and shoulders to keep yourself steady, trying not to fall over from how fucked out you are from the pure bliss he’s bringing to your pussy with his cock.

The position you’re in allows a fantastic vantage point for your g-spot. It is then that you feel that tingly tension from your clit and your groin muscles contract.

It’s starting to hurt so good. You can feel your climax coming. Tightness is present from your back down to your legs. Excess saliva builds up in your mouth from the immense pleasure coursing your body and your heart rate picks up.

“Dejun… ba-baby I’m…” tears begin to build up and cloud your vision, just like how the pressure of your boyfriend’s cock is fucking you senseless and fogging your brain from any clear thoughts. You can’t even finish your sentence and barely are able to talk.

Dejun can feel you squeeze his shaft and stares darkly at your face. He sees your fucked-out state and knows his girl is on the verge of milking his cock.

A tear manages to slip out your eye and roll down your cheek, and you whine at how full and overwhelmed you are.

This encourages Dejun to keep up his movements. Adding extra emphasis to each thrust he makes and grunting loudly at his effort and in seeing the way your body is responding to him.

Your stomach muscles clench and breasts jiggle at every movement, leaving him aroused times a million and oversexed by your body. You’re like a moving work of art to him, and he can’t help but feel the blood rushing through his cock at this beautiful, lewd scene.

“Let it out, babygirl. I’m so ready for you.” he growls out, and his words cue you to release, immediately satisfying that itch-pain pleasure that took over your body.

There’s a heat increase within your pussy as you cum. Every inch of you trembles at the feeling of your juices coming out and Dejun’s cock still moving inside you.

Your mouth is wide open in relief and from the electric shock rushing your senses.

“Oh my god—uhhh!” you moan loudly, and your boyfriend’s length begins to twitch not only from your dirty noises that are like heaven to him, but also from how his cock feels like it’s swimming inside your pussy. His shaft is practically drowning and overflowing in your cum, all drenched.

His dick starts to feel sparkly, and he continues to fuck you a bit longer as his own ejaculation is coming.

His entire face contorts, and he deeply groans once he lets go. You can feel his dick swell and grow a bit, and it spasms and pulsates with each and every hot spurt.

Your walls can’t help but squeeze over him as hard as you can while he cums inside of you.

The warmth and pressure of his semen reaches your cervix and fills you up, making it feel like your pussy is getting baked from all the heat stuffed inside of you.

After milking himself dry, he lets his body fall back onto the bed. You allow yourself to drop on top of him, chests colliding.

Both of your heartbeats are still racing from the ‘exercise’ and your legs and thighs shake, coming down from your high and the physical activity.

“You did so well for me. I got you, pretty.” Dejun moves his right hand towards your back to calm you down. His fingers come in contact with sweat glistening your spine, and you cringe at the feeling.

“God, I’m so sweaty. Don’t touch me— i’m gross.” you’re quick to say, trying to shift off Dejun but he keeps you secured over him, refusing to let go.

“We just fucked like animals and you think I care about sweat?” your boyfriend scoffs and lets out a chuckle.

He lifts his free hand towards the nape of his neck, feeling his own sweat that drenched it. He removes his hand quickly after coating his hand, and holds it in the air to show you.

“See? I’m sweaty too. It’s normal, baby.”

Rolling your eyes is the only response you give him. You rest your head against his bare chest, pressing a gentle kiss against his skin.

Your lids close for a moment, his cock still inside you. There’s no motivation in you to leave his arms or move your body. You just wanna be stuck in his embrace forever.

“Wanna go actually watch the movie this time now that you got what you wanted?” Dejun whispers.

You let out a sigh, “Nah, I think it’s time for a nap.” You snuggled your head into his chest, trying to win him over with your cuteness.

In response, he huffs out some air and without warning, brings a hand to smack your ass.

You gasp at the feeling, and hiss at the sensitivity you have from the waist down post-sex. “Dejun!” you scold him.

“Always such a brat. You’re lucky I love you.”

⊹₊ ⋆ ⊹₊ ⋆ ⊹₊ ⋆ ⊹₊ ⋆ ⊹₊ ⋆ ⊹₊ ⋆ ⊹₊ ⋆ ⊹₊ ⋆ ⊹₊ ⋆ ⊹₊ ⋆ ⊹₊ ⋆ ⊹₊ ⋆ ⊹₊ ⋆

#ericscroptop #nct #wayv #wayv smut #nct smut #xiaojun smut #wayv scenarios #wayv imagines #wayv xiaojun #xiaojun #xiao dejun #dejun #xiaojun x you #dejun x reader #xiaojun x reader #xiaojun imagines #xiaojun fic #wayv x reader #wayv hard hours #kpop imagines #kpop smut

[steveharringtonat3am]

Imagine drummer!steve teaching you to play the drums?? He has you sit in his lap and guides your hands and totally does not get hard from feeling you shift around! He’s such a sweetie you know he gets excited whenever something you do sounds good!

allusions to smut at the end!

kinda a part two to this fic but this can be read on its' own!

You aren’t quite sure what Steve and you are. You’re pretty sure you’re not dating but you’re also pretty sure neither of you are interested in anyone else. The two of you have been having lots of fun, both in and outside the bedroom.

After your hookup, you honestly expected to never hear from Steve again. Sure, you had a mutual friend but he just seemed to be more of a one night stand kind of guy. He had mentioned a proper date but the more you thought about it, the more it seemed to be a formality offer. Something you say after fucking someone in a bar bathroom so they don’t feel cheap.

Of course, that wasn’t a very comforting thought.

But luckily for you, he did end up calling. He got your number from Robin, who was now filled in on what happened and consequently rewarded with copious amounts of candy in exchange for minimal teasing.

The proper date hadn’t happened just yet but you’d been having your fair share of fun.

‘You busy?’ Your screen lights up with the text. His name is saved as ‘Steve🥁’ which he had insisted upon when you added his contact to your phone.

It’s around 4 in the afternoon on a Saturday which isn’t an unusual time to receive a text from Steve but they’re not usually this vague.

‘Not at all. Why?’ You can already sense the invite, pulling yourself off the couch and heading to your room.

‘Wanna see you. Meet me at the bar? The door’s unlocked for you’. This is what catches your attention. You know that bars’ hours pretty well by now, having gone a few times to see Steve play but you’ve never gone at this time because it’s never been open this early. You know he’s not talking about a hookup since those always occur either in his apartment or yours.

You hop in the shower to wash the morning off, keeping your hair dry since you don’t need to wash it. You dress casual-ish, still unsure of the vibe but you can’t go wrong with jeans and a t-shirt. Doing a quick makeup routine, you throw on your shoes and drive over to the bar.

Sure enough, the door is unlocked. It’s completely empty, lights illuminating areas you’d never noticed.

“Hey!” Steve appears from backstage. He’s wearing a tight black t-shirt and sweatpants that you have to tear your eyes away from.

“Hi! You wanna tell me what we’re doing here?”

“Sure. You know how you told me you always wanted to learn how to play the drums? Ta-da” He gestures to the drum set next to him.

“…That was more of a compliment on how you play the drums because I wanted more kisses. Not a real want.” His grin doesn’t waver as he gestures you over.

“It’ll be fun, I promise.” Your feet carry you over as the nerves sink in. What if you’re horrible and he decides you aren’t a good match? You hadn’t admitted it yet but you did really like him and you didn’t want to lose him so soon.

“I’m gonna suck you know that right?”

“You can’t suck because I’m the one teaching you and I don’t suck.” He sits infront of the drums and tugs you into his lap.

“Now I get why you wanted to teach me.” You grin as you adjust yourself on his lap. His grip on your hips tighten and you suddenly remember being in a very similar position a few days ago.

“Behave.” He mumbles into your ear, pressing a light kiss to your shoulder when you stop moving.

He passes you the sticks, covering your hands with his to show you the proper grip. You try your hardest to listen but he’s quite distracting.

“How about I show you some simple stuff and you try to replicate it, yeah?” You nod in response. Steves hands cover yours as he starts a slow beat. It sounds just barely familiar, like something you’ve heard him practice.

He pauses after a minute, letting go of your hands. You have to bite back a complaint as you attempt to recreate what he did. It’s kind of like those memory games you used to play as a kid.

“You got it!” He kisses your cheek, arms wrapped around your waist. It’s such a sweet hug that you just melt into it. You turn in his lap, legs swinging over to straddle him.

“Thank you for teaching me.” You mumble, kissing him softly.

“Isn’t that what boyfriends are for?” The word is dropped so casually you almost don’t register it.

“You’re my boyfriend?”

“…Shit did I forget to ask? Oh I knew this would happen.” He smiles sheepishly at your shocked expression.

“You forgot?” You ask incredulously.

“I was going to ask you that day we went to the farmers market I swear!” He can’t contain his laughter, hiding his face in your shoulder.

“Well, I would love to be your girlfriend.” You tug his face up, kissing him gently.

“Great!! Now let’s go to the dressing rooms!” He stands up, arms tight around you so you don’t fall as you’re forced to stand as well. He barely bothers to grab his stuff as he tugs you backstage.

”Why?” You hurry behind him, his urgency practically carrying you.

”You’re gonna sit on my lap again. But this time we won’t be wearing clothes.”

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington one shot #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things #stranger things 4 #x reader #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #drummer!steve harrington x reader #drummer!steve #smut

[gold-dustwomxn]

mystified

summary: after sudden attacks on women around town, you take a self defense class. ellie, your long standing crush is the instructor

fair warning, future chapters will include discussions of abuse and other heavy topics. each part will contain its own warnings please read them! eventual smut

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

cw: small interaction with a scary man, smoking weed

fluff fluff and more fluff, a little angst. protective ellie makes an appearance

inhale, exhale. grunts and bodies slamming against gym mats could be heard outside the big double doors of ‘miller’s defense studio.’ news of women being attacked at night had been circulating quite loudly in your sleepy town. dad says you should attend the free session, be able to defend yourself if anything happens. only problem was half the town was in here and you fucking hated being around large groups of people. you had your pepper spray keychain on you at all times, did you really need to learn how to fight? yeah, probably.

one of the many annoying things about being in such a small town is knowing everyone. at least your best friend dina and her boyfriend jesse were here to soften the blow of all of this chaos.

sat on the sidelines, you observe everyone attempting to show off sloppy, embarrassing ‘defense’ moves. jesse spots you and obnoxiously yells your name across the gym. rolling your eyes, you make your way over to him and dina.

“hey, ___ you’re late and you’re not gonna like what I have to tell you,” he smiles nervously. darting your eyes from him to dina, you eye them warily, regretting coming here even more now. “well? spit it out jesse.”

“jesus ok. well since you’re so late, there’s no one else for you to pair up with-“ you cut him off, “oh? that’s fine I’ll just watch then.” him and dina look at each other before she looks at you cautiously. “well, the only other person who doesn’t have a partner is the instructor for today.” you squint your eyes towards the front of the room trying to make out who it is, and oh fuck no, it’s ellie. the girl you’ve had a crush on for quite some time.

“ha, no fucking way. you guys can just teach me later. I am not making a fool of myself in front of her and the whole fucking town. you know I hate being the center of attention and she’s gonna demonstrate on me to teach everyone!” you turn your body attempting to walk away.

dina grabs your forearms softly trying to chill you out with her witchy, calming demeanor. because seriously how is she able to do that with just her touch? “you’re gonna be fine, ___. just breathe. no one else knows what they’re doing either, that’s why we’re here. you’re not gonna look like a fool,” she nods at you slowly, “plus, jesse already told her you’d be her partner.” she gives you an apologetic smile.

“ugh. why can’t you be her partner jesse? she’s your best friend.” dina grabs jesse’s arm and nuzzles into his side with a gross, love drunk smile. “because, I wanna be with my man. sorry, babe but you can do this. you can shamelessly use this as an excuse to be close to her anyway” she wiggles her eyebrows.

“oh my god,” you scoff and roll your eyes, “you guys seriously suck.”

an ear piercing whistle startles you, nearly making you jump out of your skin, and the room goes quiet. “good morning everyone, I’m ellie. welcome to miller’s defense studio. today, I’m going to be teaching you guys basic self defense techniques. learning self defense is more than how to prevent an attacker from overpowering you, but also about keeping a clear and calm head in the face of danger and how to gain the upper hand..”

her introduction speech fades from your ears as you observe her confident demeanor. dressed only in a simple white wife-beater tank and sweatpants, she still stands tall with a commanding presence. her hair sits in a low bun at the back of her neck, tattoo on full display while her toned arms move animatedly as she speaks.

you blink a few times snapping out of it as dina taps your shoulder and looks at you. “what?” she nods her head at ellie who is looking at you, waiting for you to join her at the front. your eyes widen briefly, “oh fuck.” you mutter under your breath.

you quickly walk up to her in embarrassment and she smirks at you as if she knows something that you don’t. she puts her hand on your hip and leans to turn on the bluetooth speaker behind you. “hey ___” she whispers in your ear. goosebumps travel down your body. fuck, this is gonna be a long day.

after some basic blocking and hitting techniques, ellie decides to teach everyone how to throw an attacker over your shoulder. many cry of “what if they’re taller or heavier?” blah blah, doesn’t matter. next thing you know, ellie turns and steps away from you, grabs your arm, squatting and lifts your hips against her ass before pulling your arm forward, rolling you off her hips onto the floor, wind knocked out of you, hand now around your throat. you lay there stunned, out of breath as ellie’s face hovers close to yours. you take a small glance at her lips before looking up into her eyes and she smirks, also out of breath. fuck, you were caught.

with everyone now practicing the technique, she grabs your hand and pulls you up. “you okay? didn’t go too rough on you?” she places her hands on her hips and looks you up and down so quickly that you could’ve easily missed it if you weren’t paying close attention.

you laugh “no, no, I’m fine. that was pretty crazy. when did you learn how to do all of this shit? I mean, I knew joel had this place obviously but I didn’t know you were involved in it.”

“hm.. well, when joel adopted me I had some.. anger issues, getting into fights all the time. he eventually gave up on trying to ‘change my ways’ and decided to train me how to fight properly so I wouldn’t hurt myself.. tricked me into taking out my aggression elsewhere, so I guess he ended up changing me anyway..” she chuckles “but, yeah I don’t teach or join in on the classes, I do it on my own time. joel’s been booked up so he convinced me to do this for him.” she scratches the back of her neck sheepishly and blushes. you wonder if it’s because she told you something personal or it’s because it’s her first time teaching.

“well.. I wouldn’t have guessed this was your first time. you really know how to command a room. you’re a natural,” you smile at her shyly. “dunno know if I really feel prepared to come up against an attacker though, maybe you could teach me some more.” you mentally pat yourself on the back for your brave attempt at flirting.

she laughs, “oh yeah?” moving closer to you. you look at her briefly before looking away. “mhm!” is what you come up with. jesus christ. she laughs again and nods. “alright, I guess I can make an exception for you and give you some free lessons. I’m gonna go do the closing speech or whatever the fuck joel wanted me to do..” she looks somewhere behind you and her eyes widen. you follow her line of sight and see dina and jesse look away abruptly. okay, suspicious.

as everyone is packing up their belongings, you make your way over to jesse and dina. dina smirks at you, “so?”

“so what..?” you furrow your brows. “how’d it go up there?” before you can respond, ellie comes over and greets you guys. “ellie! ___ and jesse are coming over tonight, you wanna come smoke and chill?” she looks at you as she answers “yeah, sure” she shrugs and then looks over at dina and jesse, “just text me and let me know.”

as you walk to dina’s house, the cold bitter air of winter sends a chill down your spine. all of a sudden you hear a car pulling up next to you and a window rolling down. the sound of a man’s voice has your adrenaline pumping. walking away quickly, you put your phone to your ear and pretend that you’re talking to someone “hey! you think you can help me with some directions? my phone is dead and I’m lost.” your heart is racing and you click off the safety on your pepper spray. another car comes to a screeching halt behind you. a slam of a car door and quick footsteps has you looking back in fear.

ellie comes into your line of sight and puts you behind her, looking at the man with a challenging gaze “is there a fucking problem here?” you hear a flicking sound and look down, eyes widening when you see a switchblade in her hand. he skids off and she manages to take a picture of his plates, putting the switchblade in her back pocket before turning to you. she gently grabs your shoulders and looks at you in concern. “you okay? what happened?” she looks down at your hands and you hadn’t realized until now that you’re shaking. “c’mon.” she grabs your hand and leads you to her car, opening the passenger door for you.

“why are you walking around by yourself? jesus, ___ you could’ve been..” she looks away from you, cutting herself off and shakes her head, clenching her jaw. “I would’ve picked you up.” she starts the car, and pulls away from the curb.

“I know! fuck. dina lives so close I thought- yeah it wasn’t smart knowing what’s been happening.” she turns her head to look at you briefly, her gaze softening. “just text me or something next time okay? I don’t want you walking around by yourself, I’ll pick you up.” you nod and take a deep breath. “thanks for the save,” you laugh, trying to soften the mood. she, however does not laugh which makes you even more nervous. great, you think, I pissed her off. she glances at you, noticing your nervous fidgeting. she briefly squeezes your hand “it’s okay, I’m just glad you’re safe” she gives you a small smile. you feel butterflies in your stomach. the rollercoaster of emotions from fear to anxiety and now to the feelings ellie is giving you are a lot.

“I’m gonna stop back home to show joel the pics of the plates and tell him what happened so he can take it to the authorities or whatever. I don’t really wanna be the one talking to the cops. you want me to drop you off at dina’s first?” she glances at you. “no, it’s cool I’ll come with you.”

ellie’s house can be described as old and rustic. outdated wood paneling lining the walls, decor and photos that give it a country feel, the cozy smell and crackling sound of the lit fireplace flooding your senses.

joel greets you warmly. small town means he’s seen you grow up, being friendly with your parents. his demeanor is rough around the edges with a don’t fuck with me attitude, but also very polite and caring. you now realize how similar ellie is to him.

as ellie explains the fucked up situation which occurred minutes ago, your phone vibrates in your pocket.

dina🤍: dont kill me pls but I have to cancel tonight. my mom found out im failing stats and she’s on the fuckin warpath. ill make it up to u promise xx

me: fuccck i’m at ellies rn she saved me from some shit i’ll tell u ab it later but now i’m nervous help🥲 sorry ab ur mom i’ll pray for ur soul

you lock your phone and put it back in your pocket. the internal panic of now having to be alone with ellie settles deep in your gut.

ellie walks over to you “alright, joel said he’s gonna deal with it. you all set to go?”

“did dina text you? check your phone.”

you watch ellie’s eyes glide across her screen and it gives you a moment to ogle over how fucking attractive she is. her long lashes, sharp jawline and freckles more pronounced due to the soft glow from her phone emitting against the low lighting of the room. she looks up at you with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. “uhh fuck, well, do you want me to take you home?.. or we can hang out here if you want.” she looks away from you.

“yeah, I’m down to hang” you smile at her. she gives a small smile back and blushes. alright, maybe she feels the same way I do. “okay cool, you wanna smoke and watch a movie?”

smoke hazes around ellie’s dim lit room and the movie in the background is long forgotten. you’re laughing so fucking hard with tears in your eyes, and you don’t know if it’s because you’re so high or if ellie is really that funny. “you really decked your foster sibling in the face because he borrowed your savage starlight comic ellie?” she scoffs and throws a pillow at you. “he did not borrow it.. he stole that shit and thought he could get away with it. can’t let people fuck around with you like that in the system. makes you an easy target” she takes another drag of the joint.

“uh-huh,” you grab the joint and take a hit “well, clearly these kids learned not to fuck with the big, bad aggressive ellie huh?” she laughs and rolls her eyes “oh my god, shut up, ___.”

ellie thinks about how she likes that you’re not taking pity on her for her fucked up childhood, and how it’s so easy to talk to you. it feels natural opening up to you, not being able to do that with other people, not even jesse. it makes her like you even more.

you groan as you try to peel your heavy, post high eyes open feeling warmth around you, inhaling a scent filled with clean laundry and a hint of woodsy cologne. you open your eyes and see a sleeping ellie, mouth slightly parted, breathing slowly. your eyes widen, realizing your head is on her chest and her arm is wrapped around you. you glance over at her clock that reads 3:54am. fuck, you don’t even remember falling asleep. you move slightly trying not to wake ellie to text your mom saying that you fell asleep at dina’s. ellie stirs and groans, pulling you closer to her. fuck it. you don’t know if this will ever happen again. you close your eyes and drift back to sleep.

#ellie williams #emmysfics #ellie williams x reader #ellie tlou #ellie tlou2 #ellie the last of us #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams tlou #ellie x reader #ellie williams fanfic #tlou ellie #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams fic #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams x female reader

[b0r3dtod3ath]

LITERALLY anything for Art PLEASE I need him so desperately. Maybe something with an argument that leads to fluff? idk

Thanks for the request!

The living room is illuminated by the soft glow of lamplight, casting shadows across the walls. You pace back and forth, your frustration reaching its peak. Art, your boyfriend and a professional tennis player, sits on the couch, his tennis racket leaning against the armrest, his expression tense. 

“I just don't get it, Arthur! Why do you always let your coach push you around? You never stand up for yourself!”

"It's not that simple," Art says defensively. "She knows what's best for my game."

You stop pacing, almost speechless. "Your game? You have been losing for the past months! What about you? And don’t lie, you don’t even enjoy it anymore! When was the last time you did something for yourself without worrying about what your coach or your sponsors might think?"

"You know it's not that easy," he responds, frustrated. "Tennis is my career. I have to do what Tashi says to succeed."

Your voice softens. "I understand that, Artie. But at what cost? You're constantly sacrificing your own happiness and well-being just to please others."

He sighs. "It's not just about pleasing others. It's about fulfilling my dreams, about making something of myself."

"It’s her dream and not yours! You know it. She just uses you to achieve what she’s not able to! Remember when we used to talk about having a family, about living together? You always wanted to be a dad! And now, you don’t even spend half a day at home."

Art looks at his hands. "Maybe I sometimes forget that there’s life beyond the court. Tennis has been my life for so long."

You take a step closer, standing between his legs, you stroke his hair as he wraps his arms around you. "I know. And I admire your dedication, I really do. But you have to remember that you're more than just a tennis player. You're a person with feelings and desires that matter too. And I don’t want you to quit because of what I said. I know it's hard, Art. But you don't have to do it alone. I'm here for you, always. I just want you to be happy and not devote your life to someone else’s dream."

He smiles weakly, bullying you even closer. "I'm lucky to have you. I'll try to find a balance, I promise. I will call Tashi, tell her I want to retire soon. I have been thinking about it but I guess I didn't have the guts. I just want to spend time with you. Well, maybe still occasionally play tennis."

"Whatever you want to do we'll figure it out together."

You don’t move from this position, in comfortable silence, the tension slowly melts away as you hold onto each other. In the warmth of each other's presence, Art finds peace and stability.

May 1, 2024

#art donaldson imagine #art donaldson x reader #mike faist x you #mike faist x reader #mike faist imagine #challengers imagine #challengers x reader