#centered on the only part of someone that has use to them

[liveontelevision]

Hello friends,

Sorry about the lack of content recently, I've been running kinda low on energy :,) but I have some little treats, never fear.

Here's a short Vox thing I wrote awhile ago, it's angsty it's kissy, it ends with a cliffhanger. Classic fic by me.

I meant to turn it into a full thing, and I just might later? We'll see

CW: Smoking and smooching

Human | Vox x Reader

You cringe, scrunching up your nose when the familiar scent hits you. You approach the TV-headed demon, who was lounging on the large balcony of the Vees' Penthouse. Or was it lamenting?

"Yuck. You still smoke here?"

"It's Hell, doll. It's not like it'll kill me. Can't even feel the high anymore, actually."

"I guess not.. Then why do you even smoke? If it doesn't affect you?"

"Eh. I don't know. Try not to think too hard into that shit." A comfortable silence falls between the two of you.

"Can I bum one?" With a mocking scoff, he reaches into his pocket to pull out the pack. In a thoughtless decision, you place the cigarette between your teeth, pulling his face in your direction and inching impossibly close to him. He seemed startled by your sudden attack.

You hover just in front of his lips, lighting the end of your cigarette with the cherry of his own.

That was definitely an interesting move for someone with absolutely no history of smoking. As you inhale, you choke up and immediately cough out the rest. Vox is only watching you, a smile tugging at his lips while you cough up a lung. Your eyes water and you let out a whimper before propping your arms against the railing.

"Smooth." He comments.

"W-Watch it." You snap back.

You do manage to draw out a smoother hit, looking down at the city that, ironically, seemed so lively.

All that time went to waste. All those years you'd spent chasing over this CEO, being a part of the paparazzi, stalking the media for any buzz, passing his building when you have the time.. had the time. The fact that he's seemingly replicated his dream headquarters in the center of the underworld seemed like a Hell in itself. Constantly mocking you for never getting your big scoop. For wasting your life on him.

You couldn't help but approach it at first. You reluctantly enter the stores and offices that surround the first floor, inspecting all his products. You didn't recognize him at first. I mean, he has a TV screen for a head. His voice is what gave it away. His charismatic facade and sauve persona he uses on any television program. That's what you recognized. Apparently those are skills that stick with you after death.

He found you eventually. You'd been residing on the barren side of Hell. It was cozy. Not everyone had family members with them, you were just the lucky few. Your sweet grandma was here. Sinners who are visibly older seemed to be avoid by most clear-minded demons. Why bug them? And what kind of decisions did they make to end up here and survive for so long? They probably don't even remember why they're here. But some seemed to remember their lives.

Your grandma recognize you almost immediately. She was quick to take you into a part of hell that seemed to bypass the cities and dangers. It, of course, had its flaws. The Hellborn rodents were bothersome, but it somehow managed to be peaceful on its own.

It didn't last long, though. Extermination Day finally caught up to your little home. You have no idea how you survived, it was a miracle. but you were the only one. You started appreciating your aftlife in another fit of irony. You're nearly immortal, maybe it's time to give the city a try.

"Thanks for taking me in, too. You didn't have to do that."

"I can't leave my favorite stalker on the streets." He nudges you, having to lean down a bit to do so. He was towering. You let out the softest chuckle, leaning into his touch, despite it's teasing motivations. You sigh, taking another drag.

"Wait these aren't Valentino's smokes, are they?" You hold it over the edge, ready to flick it from your fingers, if that's the case.

"Definitely not. I wouldn't give you those if you asked." You hum at his words, releasing a puff of smoke. "But, uh.. let me know if he offers you any, alright?" You let out a little laugh and nod.

Your comfortable silence was broken, with the end of your cigarette. You let it crumble to the ground, stomping it with your nice business shoes. Vox rolls his eyes, shooing you away.

"Don't ruin those, they were expensive." He mutters.

"Well I would've been fine if you didnt essentially set my wardrobe on fire." You scoff.

"Your wardrobe? Was a bunch of country bumpkin dresses with poofy sleeves, doll. Even Vel was ready to get rid of that mess." The silence overcomes again. The breeze coming from the sheer height of the building seemed refreshing. You looked up to Heaven. How cruel of them to put it in sight.

"I really thought that was it. That life was short and then you die. That there was no point in trying to get rich and famous as long you were doing something you liked."

"So you liked stalking me?"

"Fuck off, Vox, you know what I mean." You couldn't help but smile. "How could I have wasted all that time on you? I could've been building my skills. Maybe I wouldn't be mooching off of some big shot like you if I did." You looked away, not willing to make any eye contact while mentioning him.

"Hey, you know I don't mind.. you can't prepare for death." He reaches out, he's not sure why, maybe to offer you some comfort. Maybe he just wanted to see your face, again. You darted away from him unknowingly, making his hand recoil.

"But, I mind! I don't want to rely on you. I should be able to do this by myself, I came here the same way you did, I had the same chance to get to where you are now." You huffed, embarrassment from your confession turning your face red. "But I just.. I didn't. I keep wasting my time..."

A cool touch hit your cheek, and before you know it your head had been turned to face Vox. He kept his claws holding your chin upwards, despite your attempts to pull out of his grasp.

"Stop it. There's nothing but time here. Listen, I know this isn't exactly what you had in mind, but- for the first time in years.. I feel... human, again." You blink slowly at him, not exactly minding his touch at this point. "And that's because of you." You hated getting flustered, but his words alone caused you to tense up. He felt your jaw clenching in his hand, bringing him back to reality. With a quick release, he brings his fist to his mouth and clears his throat.

"So.. yeah. Don't get it in your head that this is some sort of.. sugar daddy thing. You're free to do whatever you want. You can do whatever you want. And- you uh.. you're always welcome back." You stare at him for longer than you'd like to admit. Looking for some kind of excuse for your gaze, you hold your hand out for another cigarette. He gets the memo after awhile.

You place it between your lips and before you get the chance to think, his hands are back on your chin, bringing your face close. He mirrors your actions from before. It startled you, the cigarette falling from your lips and rolling off the balcony floor. Both your eyes follow it for a moment, before looking at eachother and sharing a little laugh.

His own cigarette falls from his lips. And with his hand still on chin you're pulled into an expected kiss. The sight of his dazed eyes when he finally pulls away only leaves you wanting more. But.. you can't. You pull away with a sullen look and step away from balcony. Without a word, you leave him alone. He's lost yet another independent spark. His heart can ache later. For now, he's cursing himself for letting anyone see that side of him, again.

♡♡♡

Womp womp

Love the pics where they knew eachother in life 👌

Taglist:

( @vififofum / @thornwolfy235 / @tinywolfiegirl / @chipper-chip / @bat-boness / @misfitgirlwrites / @nayomi247 / @lonelynmisunderstood / @escapistoftherealworld / @b4ts1e / @hamthepan / @kyo-kyo1 / @looking1016 / @polytheatrix / @littledolly2345 / @lillianastuff / @yourlocalcryptidbee /@0strawberrysorbet0 / @themageofblood / @jayyyayaysblog / @floralsightings / @azmosposts / @8har0ley8 / @actuallyspiderwoman / @sirenetheblogger / @christineblood / @kaytemchugh / @cimadreamer / @simpdevil66 / @azmosposts / @m3ow1 / @acrazyartist / @redfoxwritesstuff / @4k1to / @meesachan / @corvusskid / @alientee /@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx / @alon3lylov3r /@sapphireravensworld / @mjmdragons / @catticora / @the-maladaptivedaydreamer / @carrie0-1 / @shamblezzz / @cassandras-nest )

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin fics #vox x you #vox x reader #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #vox hazbin x reader

[richeeduvie]

Can someone please explain to me the whole baby thing? And dog bone au? And all these aus im so confused

DOG AND BONE!AU BASICS

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

This is asked every five months and I'm happy to explain it each time! I'll put it in the pinned post! This is a long one so sorry yall

So Dog and Bone is the title to the AU for a self-insert x Roman Roy fic compilation. There's no actual series yet…sorry, I know! How long has it been? But these fics range from entire one-shots that center around a plot that can lead into another one-shot/drabble, with the content of said piece becoming important to the whole AU, to just cute, fluffy or smutty drabbles and blurbs. Most of them are based on requests. Your request could become a big part of Dog and Bone!

BABY

Baby is the name for the self-insert. Fics will flip from a second person to third person POV, so you'll see her referred to as 'Baby' a lot. I don't consider her an OC because there's no and will never be a physical description of her and to be honest, I only started to referred to her as Baby so I could write third person POV fics when I'm lazy and don't want to go heavy in internal monologue, which is what I do for second person POV fics. I never use 'Y/N' for her or any self-insert. But many see her as other people and not themselves and I love that too!

Personality-wise, you'll find her to Roman's soulmate. Although she is still a victim of being out-of-touch due to her wealth, she's managed to be kind and respectful and just something that Roys don't have outside of her. She's the ultimate nepo baby with Logan just giving her some vague career path at Waystar to keep her around. She mostly works in marketing and spends her days with Tom and Greg. So, the story of DAB (lol). Baby is the childhood best friend of Roman (and Shiv). In the AU, Baby's biological father was Logan's best friend and business associate. She met the Roy family when she was five and when Roman when almost seven. She was meant to be the best friend of Shiv, but Roman stole her one day when Shiv when to get more toys and baby Baby was on the swings. His sister is still pissed about this to this day.

Nothing much has been mentioned of Baby's bio dad just yet, but it was a one-time thing (so understandable is yall don't remember) that we see Logan giving Baby the medal her father gave him after his funeral. He's dead and apparently fought in a war, or maybe just liked collecting medals as much as Logan did.

So, facts about the dead dad:

Maybe was a veteran

Was hinted to have given Baby an eating disorder

Died when she was eight

Possibly kept her away from her mother

Logan's her godfather, but it was Frank to take her in after her dad had passed. Frank ON TOP!!!! PAPA FRANK!!! Baby's mother is very distant and she's really only seen her for a few holidays throughout her childhood. I've always imagined her to be those wealthy hippies feigning spirituality and did maybe try to get Baby in terms of custody, but didn't try a lot - not even after Baby's father died. So, Baby gets to stay with the Roys with Frank being her guardian. With this, it's just co-dependency and possessiveness growing.

Roman and Baby don't really have friends outside of each other. They do everything together and eventually start doing relationship sort of things together. They take each others virginities. Roman gets panicky and painful in the muscles if Baby has to leave him for more than three days. It's great, but nothing's official.

They live this way until Roman gets with Tabitha.

Now, you may be thinking 'Why does he begin a relationship with Tabitha if he's so possessive and seemingly satisfied with the situation he has with Baby?' Well, I have two fics that'll help you to explain Roman's stupidity:

Why Does Rome Still Date Tabitha (They Don’t Have Sex, but Still) Kendall Wins!AU Confession

The latter of the two is a bit more personal and truthful for Roman. It can be noted that as much as I am a GerriRoman supporter, their relationship does not happen in the DogandBone!AU. Only because one, frankly, I don't know how to or have the desire to thread it throughout the story because I already kept Tabitha's plotline…which is Roman's downfall. You will see. And two, you'll find that Roman and all of the Roys, really, have a lot of themselves changed all because they have one genuine friend that's cared and loved them since childhood so that big part of Roman's plotless plot-time in canon is gone here. Grace didn't happen as well because Jesse Armstrong said so lol.

As I said, the genuine friend line applies to all of the Roys (excluding Logan, except for his AU…), but it really applies to Kendall. Going back to the point where Baby and Roman are fourteen/fifteen and fifteen/sixteen, he gets sent away to military school. I made it so he's only there for two years to which Logan just doesn't care to send him there anymore because I want Baby and Roman teenage puppy and needy love for as much as I can get it. During this time, Kendall has this belief, this kindness to take in Baby when she's at her loneliest.

and…so…Kendall and Baby's whole thing?

The link above sums up their whole situation but I'll elaborate a bit more here because there's Tern Haven. Tern Haven happens in the OG!DogandBone!AU and KendallWins!AU, the grooming situation happens in every AU.

Of course, Roman comes back and Baby sobers up for the most part and leaves groomer Kendall's ass in the dust! It's when Roman starts dating Tabitha decades later that Kendall, who never actually made a move on Baby, brings hell and tragedy to the family. Baby's not so keen on continuing to have sex and the weird thing she has with Roman as he is with Tabitha around, so she becomes lonely and thoughtful in the need to reconnect with friends, maybe start dating herself. She's there during Tern Haven and can't go to Roman's room to hang out, Tabitha's there. She doesn't bother Shiv and Tom, she could talk with Frank, maybe? Maybe, but she makes her way to Kendall's room.

And whatever high horse Kendall put himself on for not doing anything with Baby, maybe not being in love with her - or at least having no awareness about it, whatever was starting with Naomi, it's gone when Baby enters that room.

Again, Tern Haven happens in Kendallwins!AU and the OG!AU. The only difference is that after, Roman is either successful in pulling Baby away from Kendall, or he isn't. This is where it can get confusing as it can with all the AUs because there's so many little splices of moments within content that really helps you understand how things happen but I can say that the Kendallwins!AU is just sad, scary, and dark.

But enough of that!

OG!DOGANDBONE!AU

After Roman's successful in getting Kendall away from Baby, he immediately breaks up with Tabitha and they heal from what happened. Kendall declines quickly during this. Logan dies and they get married after the GoJo sale. They have Baby Jr. On occasion, we'll have fun and write them having two more kids, Baby Jr Jr and Roman Jr, but they aren't canon - or they at least would get a canon fic like Baby

FICS TO HELP: Romulus Sneakers | Dad Frank feat. Baby Roman Call Them Brothers Back in Town Bone and Her Heart Roman’s a Friend Stealer While you were sleeping Touch Me (I'm Sick) Date Death | Part One Date Death Part 2 Babied (He Loves It) Violet, Blue, Green, Red To Keep Me Out Phone Call Home Baby Baby in “I went to Market” Baby in ‘Too Much Birthday’ After the GoJo Sale Telling Roman She's Pregnant

BABY JR

Baby Jr is an unrealistically perfect angel of a child that belongs to Roman and Baby in their AU and was born a preemie with a slew of health problems, but because I love her so much, it's becoming a running joke for her to just exist in every AU, somehow. if Baby's there, Baby Jr's there. She's named fittingly. You'll see her a lot in smaller blurbs and fics. Another running joke is that she hates Kendall in every AU, though she's barely mentioned outside of the OG! and Loganwins!AU.

JUST MY FAVORITE BABY JR FICS:

Baby Baby's First and Last Day at School Bear Baby Jr! Baby Jr Doing Something Dangerous Connor Taking Baby Jr Fishing Baby Jr seeing Baby Roman with Glasses

VARIATIONS OF THE OG!AU

They aren't mentioned a lot anymore because we don't get so serious about them and it was more just to have fun with the story, but the OG!AU does have some variations to how the plot goes. You have Baby and Roman having Baby Jr before season one where Tabitha and Tern Haven are things that obviously never happened:

If Roman Knocked Baby Up Logan Bullying Baby Jr YoungBornBabyJr!AU With Roman Forcing Baby to Marry Him Roman Drunk and Loving If Roman Knocked Baby Up in Their 20s If Baby Jr was Little in The Pilot Logan’s Baby Jr Favoritism Where’s Your Daughter?

Then, you have Baby dying and Roman killing himself to leave Baby Jr an orphan: Come Time, Baby Jr Missing Mommy.

Or you have Baby AND Baby Jr dying to leave Roman killing himself after his last moments of suffering…which, I can't find, but do we really want to read that?

If you don't want to suffer, it can end simply as a nightmare Roman had in the night. Here's another Nightmare Blurb.

LOGANWINS!AU

Listen. I CANNOT be the only person who has consistently written for Logan. I CANNOT! But I do and Baby is unfortunately the victim of a joke turned into a horniness for an old, old man.

Logan doesn't actually have a fic establishing the Loganwins!AU. Everything that's longer than a blurb are moments that already take place after they've gotten together. Tern Haven does not take place here because it appears that this…intimate relationship takes place before season one. Roman doesn't get together with Tabitha in this AU because he's really fucked up about his soulmate having sex and marriage with his…Dad. His abusive Dad. Baby Jr does exist here! This started as a joke to get people grossed out over old man Logan cock, I played it so I was DISGUSTED to appease any requests that were sent in. I really was. I don't know what happened. But a lot of what is written expands past Logan x Reader and more about the AU itself, which happens with Kendallwins! and the OG!AU too.

FICS TO HELP: THE OFFICE CONFRONTATION Mondale The Second Baseball Sick Baby Jr Mom(my) Siblings and Baby Jr Buzz off! Sister Shiv Recital Alone Baby Jr How Does The Relationship Begin? How Does Logan Propose? Are Baby and Roman Still Close? Pregnancy Announcement in the AU They Bought a Cat Who's Baby Jr's Godfather? Panty Stealer Roman's Twitter Argument

You guys are lucky I can't find the smut fic I wrote. But it's here on this blog. Somewhere.

Nvm here it is my bad: Reflections.

AFFAIR!AU

There's the Loganwins!AU, then there's the Affair!AU, which was established pretty recently. It's where Baby begins an affair with Roman while she's married to Logan and Baby Jr ends up being Roman's daughter, not his little sister. As much as I have accepted my great enjoyment in indulging the Logan lovers, I do think this is Baby at her most Succession.

She gets the benefits of being Logan's wife and his favorite wife, a cute daughter, Roman at her heel, whining for her to really be with him but knowing he'll never leave her at her denial. She's horrible, a whore. A baddie winning.

FICS TO HELP: Baby Jr being Roman's Daughter Roman and Newborn Baby Jr Baby in the Affair!AU Roman revealing she's his to his siblings "Dada" A Slight Confrontation How does it start? In Dad's Bed

GROOMING SITUATION (OG!AU and KENDALLWINS!AU)

So, I explained most of it above, but these are the fics to help understand just how messed up DogandBone!Kendall is. He's a different man, guys.

(Also Stewy was there. Stewy was her friend. A flawed twenty-something year old who didn't care enough to separate himself from Kendall when noticing the red flags of him and Baby, but he denied, denied, denied. But he also gave Baby some sense of being…ya know, a kid…cause he saw her as a CHILD)

Tern Haven:

Tern Haven EXTENDED TERN HAVEN More of Tern Haven (…Yay…)

Ken's Groomer Era:

Sleepover Drugged Up Heart Does Baby go Clubbing With Kendall? The Birthday (Big One) Kendall being Confused That Baby's Not Jealous More of Ken being Confused That Baby's Not Jealous Sleepover 2 Kendall's Birthday Gifts....

The Aftermath:

Smacktalking During Too Much Birthday Bad Bit

There's more, of course. There's always more.

KENDALLWINS!AU

After Tern Haven, Kendall has Baby. He's won Baby. He gets more addicted to drugs while making her dependent on them. He turns her into nothing - and just for him. He's scary and paranoid when it comes to Roman. A variation of the AU would be the Babydies!AU, where she accidently overdoses after he leaves her alone. It's a lot. This is not a fun AU, guys. But I like to write it!

FICS TO HELP:

Housewife Thing Waystar Press Conference Accusing Baby Jr of Not Being His Roman Trying to Get Baby Back From Kendall A Slight, Brotherly Confrontation Daily Does of Horror (Heroin) Mention of Heroin Handsy Baby and Kendall and Pills Panty Stealer Brother Roman's Dick Pics Saying Roman's Name Flower Delivery

THE OD FICS:

No Time Needled Memories

NOW....

SHIV'S AU

Shiv's AU isn't even a win!AU, technically. We haven't really dabbled in the idea of her winning. Just more of her yearning, but all in all, this woman wants Baby soooo badly. Too sad she has the guilt of being a woman. And her father. And Tom. And the denial hot on her skin.

Calling Shiv Shiv

TOM'S AU

Apparently the man can get obsessed and they haven't even kissed in his AU, yet. Fitting considering the shit he pulls with Greg. It's Baby at her most guilty due to her friendship with Shiv.

KARL'S AU

No.

STEWY'S AU

I give crumbs and only crumbs. But we're getting something started with Wedding Bells (Part One)!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

I hope this helps! xoxo

#inbox #hc's #drabble #dog and bone!au #roman roy x reader #succession fanfiction

[fushipurro]

Let Your Kingdom Call My Name

Chapter 1 - Nightmare

Masterlist | Next Chapter ->

☆ Content: 18+ MDNI, dead dove, AU - heian era, mentions of murder/torture/cannibalism, dubious morality, degradation, sukuna is mean (nothing we can't fix amirite)

☆ Word Count: 2.1k

Sukuna enjoyed many things in life, so long as it could grant him the pleasure.

Killing, eating, women, killing women and then eating them… but waking up one day in the body of his least preferred concubine wasn’t one of those things.

It was that much worse.

A nightmare, and from him, that’s saying something.

The King of Curses awoke after deciding to sleep for the first time in a blue moon. It’s one of the many trivial human needs he despises, and one he foregoes in favor of being productive with his time. But, after a battle with an especially conniving curse ─ one that had the audacity to toy with his mind ─ Sukuna felt the need to shut it off, if only for a night.

When he opened his eyes, Sukuna had expected to see his typical ornate ceiling. Black tiles with gold trimmings and an aureate dragon painted in the center. Only the best for a king. For him.

Instead, his two eyes were met with plain old wooden squares ─ wait, two?

Sukuna raises himself in an instant, looking down at his hands. His lower set of arms are missing, as well as all the black bands and stripes. There are no sharp claws jetting from his hands, and the size is significantly smaller than he’s used to.

He moves the dainty appendages up to his skull to feel for his missing pair of eyes. He curses about how these things could never hope to crush bone into dust, one of his favorite pastimes. Another concerning fact is the hair is different. The length is longer, enough so that he can pull a few strands in front of his eyes to see that they’re an entirely different color from his usual pink.

“What the fuck?” Sukuna curses, taken aback by the blatant feminine voice that follows instead of his rich, velvety tone.

He’s seething with rage now.

Whoever is responsible for this is going to pay with their blood, and he’ll make sure to torture them slowly. He’ll even go as far as to heal them just to prolong their suffering all for his revenge.

The thought alone brings a manic grin to his face.

His amusement, however short-lived, fades when he lifts the covers of his bedding off. The quality is subpar, and the style nothing like his own. Even the robe he wears is cheap, more fitting for a servant. Sukuna is a king, and he requires only the best the world has to offer.

This is far from it.

Whatever room he’s currently in irritates him further, nearly seeing red at this point. It’s more of a storage closet than anything fit for someone of worth to be sleeping in. All it contains is a bedroll and dresser. Repulsive.

He attempts to conjure his cursed energy to dismantle the place, deeming it more suited as kindling. Sukuna flicks his hand forward, but nothing dramatic follows. While this vessel does contain cursed energy, it’s rather lackluster compared to what he’s used to. That is to be expected when talking about Ryomen Sukuna.

“How annoying,” he scoffs.

Sukuna exits the room with both haste and malicious intent.

The good news is ─ he’s still in his shrine, so his body can’t be that far away. The bad news, or rather the infuriating part, is that he’s in the eastern corridor, home to the concubines.

You wouldn’t catch Sukuna dead sleeping here like an emperor would for his harem. His whores will come to himwhen he calls on them, not the other way around. But why is something, or someone, so loathsome doing here of all places in his shrine?

No matter, he’ll figure it out soon enough. His current destination is the temple to the north, where he typically resides.

Getting there however proves difficult.

Sukuna has yet to cross the boundary that separates his palace from the rest of the shrine, but the sheer amount of cursed energy radiating from inside is enough to force him to his knees.

No one brings the King of Curses to the ground like some maggot in the dirt. Whoever this is may as well have already signed their life away with blood as their ink.

He grits his teeth to stand, a familiar copper taste filling his mouth. Every step is a fight in itself given this poor excuse of a vessel his soul is trapped in. Eventually Sukuna reaches the doors to his bedroom, and he opens the door without another moment to lose.

Oh, how his dilemma just became a thousand times worse.

There on his grand, one-of-a-kind bed is himself, or at least a fake version.

It can’t entirely be a fake, as the cursed energy he feels is absolutely his own, but is being poorly restrained, flying off in all directions without a care.

He wasn’t sure until now whether he would see his body like this without his soul present in the proper host. It could’ve been an empty husk for all he cared, so long he can return to it in due time.

What he will admit though, is that it’s a miracle whoever is residing in him can handle his body’s information, assuming they’re strong enough mentally to bear its weight.

Sukuna approaches the bed with a grim expression, looking down at what’s supposed to be him sleeping peacefully away like a baby instead of a king. The next test is seeing their conscious state.

“Wake up!” Sukuna shouts at the fraud who doesn’t budge. He clicks his tongue before wrapping his vessel’s weak, puny fingers around the throat of himself lying there. “I won’t repeat myself you insolent–“

Four red eyes open with a jolt and the energy in the room spikes. It sends the real Sukuna down to his knees like before, this time clutching his stomach and mouth on instinct to avoid hurling from the pressure.

“W-what’s happening?” you stammer, forcing yourself upright. You’re thrown off by the new set of eyes under your control, allowing you to see more than ever before. In doing so, you see that’s not the only thing new when an extra set of familiar arms greets you. “What is this? Why do I look like–” You turn to the women in the room who woke you. “Wait, why are you me!?”

Sukuna looks up with a bloodthirsty scowl. “What sort of trick is this, wench? You have guts to force a king from his own body, but I’ll tear them from you again and again,” he warns, his voice laced with malice.

“A king? No, you’re me!” you protest, pointing at the other you with two right hands, appalled by the sudden words. “I’m not a king!”

“Of course you aren’t,” he retorts.

He looks around for a moment before spotting a mirror atop his dresser. He marches over, snatching it in his hands to look at the reflection.

Sukuna almost forgot about this abhorrent woman living beneath him. Everything he’s seen so far makes complete sense to him.

Of everyone Sukuna could’ve swapped bodies with, why did it have to be you?

He hates you.

Hell, he’s not even sure why he’s kept you around as long as he has, but once he’s back in his body, you will be the first to go, followed by the soul-swapper.

You were given to him as an offering once upon a time, in hopes that it might spare your home village from Sukuna’s path of destruction.

It didn’t, and they were a fool for believing otherwise.

Sukuna wasn’t going to turn away a decently beautiful woman either way, so long as you learn your place and fulfill your duties. Had you shared any of the qualities he enjoys in his other concubines, then maybe ─ just maybe ─ he’d more interested.

As it stands, you’re just a pathetic excuse of a whore who’s only use now will be his eventual dinner. You’ll make an excellent first meal the moment he’s returned to his former self.

In a split-second decision, Sukuna slams the mirror against the floor. Glass shatters, spreading across the ground. Despite the now tiny, insignificant pieces ─ they still reflect the same woman back to his eyes.

“Am I dreaming?” Sukuna hears you mumble, oblivious to his blind rage. He turns on his heel to approach you, glaring all the while.

“Are you that dense?” His voice mocking. “Does this feel anything like a dream to you?”

“You know for being me, you’re quite rude,” you remark, nearly pouting when you meet his gaze.

“Watch your tongue, brat,” he growls. “Don’t think just because you found your way into my body means you can forget your place.”

“Your body?” After a moment your four eyes stretch wide in sudden realization. In the next moment, you’re on your knees, bowing before your true king. “My deepest apologies, my lord!”

Hearing his own voice say such pathetic words makes him want to strangle you with your own hands. “Pick your head up, you damn fool!” Sukuna bellows. Even if he’s unable to cleave you, he can still knock you upside the head. It’s not like these frail hands are capable of hurting his body after all. “Our souls may have swapped, but I will not watch another lower my head.”

“I apologize, my lord.” A vein throbs on his forehead.

He sighs in exasperation, “Do you have any idea why this has happened?”

“I don’t, my lord.”

Sukuna doesn’t sense that you’re lying, but it still isn’t enough to let you off the hook. Not when this whole ordeal has been one thing after another. Someone will be getting punished for this, so all he has to do is wait for…

Knock knock knock

“Enter,” Sukuna answers.

…

“My lord.” Uraume bows. They lift their head and squint in confusion at the scene before them.

Sukuna, sitting on his knees before you, standing at the foot of it with anger written all over you. What brazen behavior coming from a concubine, and one as lowly as you. It’s enough to distract them from the vicious cursed energy flooding from the body of their king.

“Perfect timing. Uraume, I need you to find any information about body swapping techniques,” Sukuna orders from your body, inevitably causing more confusion.

Uraume knows better than to take orders from anyone other than their king, and the concubines are no exception. It’s why they have their own maids, except you, of course. They glance between the pair of you, holding their tongue.

“Uraume,” Sukuna warns, growing impatient. He can’t help but narrow his eyes at the unintentional disobedience of his follower.

“It’s okay,” you tell them, earning another glare from Sukuna, but in this case, it was warranted.

Uraume bows again. “Right away, my lord.” They take their leave from the room right after, leaving behind a cart with this morning’s meal.

Sukuna pinches the bridge of his noise and sighs deeply. Uraume is one thing, but if word gets out that the King of Curses swapped bodies with some pathetic human, he could lose everything he’s fought to claim.

All the lives he’s taken, the villages plundered, the strength he’s gained ─ all of it will be in vain if some whore of his gets his body killed when all he can do is watch.

And as much as he’d rather claw his ─ or your ─ eyeballs out, he needs you to temporarily play the part of the King of Curses. Nothing brings him more pain than having to rely on someone so weak and deserving, it’s unheard of for him.

“Listen up, brat.” Sukuna turns his attention back to you with a piercing gaze. “Until I’m back in my rightful body, you’re going to be doing exactly what I tell you.”

“Yes, my lord.” You bow on instinct again, but he catches you by the jaw in a tight grip. Though… when you’re in the body of Ryomen Sukuna, it’s more a tickle than anything coming from you.

Why must you be so weak?

“What did I just get done telling you?” His lips curl in disdain. “Know this, concubine. There will be a punishment in order if you fail this one simple task.” At the thought of the many ways he can torture you, he starts to laugh wickedly and his expression melts into one of impish delight.

There’s no doubt in his mind you’ll mess something up, you always do, except now he has to give you the chance to prove yourself.

“I won’t go easy on you.”

As if he ever would, anyways.

“Now get dressed, I have a kingdom to rule.”

☆ Notes: wrote this on a whim in a single day because I was inspired by a smau from @ nanaslutt on this trope and my favorite donghua liang bu yi

I’m hoping maybe with shorter chapter lengths I can push it out more often in between my other big fics, but we’ll see! They’ll definitely vary in length, that’s for sure, and I’m never good with keeping to schedules. I’m just happy to write more about Sukuna <333

Title of this story is inspired by Insomnia – Cellar Darling. I was also listening to Adoration – Mortal Love while writing this, another really good song I highly recommend!!!

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk au #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna #ryoumen sukuna x reader #concubine!reader #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #jjk sukuna #uraume

[bellaaldamas]

I just wanted to say, thank you and the other fans from this part of the GoW fandom.

In a place full of trolls and gamerbros who turn characters that they deem annoying into irredeemable, useless bitches (Freya, Angrboða) and characters they do like are reduced to either prize for someone (Thrúd, Sif and somehow, Freya again) or into their masculinity idol (Kratos, whom they only accept as the testosterone caricature godkiller and his development seen as creators turning him soft. This claim is at it's peak with Ragnarok, but it was there back in 2018 such as wanting Kratos to beat or even kill Atreus for "acting like a brat". What a horrible mindset!) - It's nice to have a side with people who are welcoming, creative and genuinely fun to interact with.

Your analyses - both fandom and in-game inputs - are a delight to read. They're beautifuly written, intelligent and well formulared, I always feel smarter after reading them.

Apologies if you prefer to discuss this in DMs, I wanted others to read this too.

I wish you a wonderful rest of your day/night 💛

Thank you so much for this message, this kind of feedback truly makes existing in this - and, admittedly, other fandoms - worth it. Your summary of my ramblings genuinely took me by surprise as I haven't been "conventionally" active in the fandom intentionally due to negative past experiences with other fandoms. Those occasional inputs I do come up with are mainly hastily written bursts in broken English.

I don't make a secret out of the fact that in my experience all fandoms, definitely not just Gow(R), are toxic to varying degrees due to trolls employing the very same tactic everywhere they go. For one, it's creating the illusion of dominance of their opinion in terms of quantity (as they have no arguments to back up their stance other than canon twisting nonsense they clearly realize that "quality" is not their strong suit). To attain that, they resort to a number of other tactics typically used by abusers both online and in real life.

As such, whenever trolls see intelligent and thoughtful people refuting their "points" they know they cannot come up with a single canon compliant rebuttal. Therefore they dog-pile in droves as to wear down the opponent who inevitably has to stop responding to them at some point. Because a logical person who dedicates time and thought to formulate an argument, fact checks and brings up evidence and quotes from the source material simply cannot withstand a wave of unhinged trolling coming at them left, right and center. They certainly cannot respond to each ridiculous one line statement of the trolls (such as the types of statements you bring up, in the vein of "Freya is a b1tch, she should've DyEd instead of He**d*all!!11!!") by typing out a thorough and researched response each time. As it would require not just spending hours on it but repeating themselves numerous times over.

The above behavior from trolls is what caused me personally a burnout from the fandom culture overall and led to my taking a distance. When I engage with people in online communities I tend to avoid blanket statements and try to always back up my points with examples from canon. Trolls don't need any of that and always dismiss those points or, at best, make it look like they acknowledge them (by quoting back). But instead of replying with canon facts they resort to Strawman Arguments or Ad Hominem.

In Gow(R) and other gaming fandoms there's also the matter of the trolls looking for "backup" in the form of big bloggers/reviewers who express, in some respects, a view of the plot and characters similar to them. Which trolls use as another "proof" their opinion is supposedly held by the majority. But the uncomfortable - for them and those reviewers - truth is that YouTube community (a cesspool of trolling as of now) represents hardly even 1 percentage of the general audience (one that pays actual money for the games). Which at most passively watches some of those videos, mainly when they have a click baiting title.

A prime example is that "viral" video with millions of views about Atreus supposedly "having a crush on Thrud". Looking at the comment section it becomes obvious that the people leaving humorous and lighthearted remarks don't take the video or the title statement seriously. Whereas the actual trolls who consider Atreus a "selfish little runt" (c) but somehow good enough to be a prize/reward for Thrud (whom they either sexualize or treat as their girlboss self insert); and who deny that Atreus and Angrboda is the only canon budding romance arc in the series are the same four or five people/nicknames. Who can be observed under other Atreus/Angrboda videos with their nonsense.

Furthermore, trolls actively participated in making the "Atreus and Thrud" piece viral in the comment section for at least one Atreus/Angrboda tribute video by mentioning the AT video and the amount of views it has. And openly insisting it somehow "proves that the fans want" Atreus and Thrud as a romantic arc for Atreus - the very same character they consider unworthy of being a secondary protagonist let alone becoming the main lead of the series or having his own spin off. But, as noted, they believe him to be acceptable enough to become a trophy man for their preferred girlboss.

That in turn brings us to another issue of male characters absolutely also being susceptible to objectification and being reduced to love interests and plot devices for female characters whom fandom minority treats as a part of their personal power fantasy. Atreus hating trolls originally didn't even deny they hated Angrboda "by association" with Atreus - thus even they initially admitted she was intended as his potential romantic partner by the narrative - because women to them are just men's extensions/accessories. But when they realized this argument makes it very easy to dismiss them for the bitter misogynists that they are they changed the tactic (also classic troll pattern) and started to distort canon in order to invent "arguments" to justify not just their Atreus hating but also their Angrboda hating stance.

To "warm up" they originally started calling Angrboda a "woke points character" which I cannot stress enough is utterly laughable when coming from Atreus/Thrud shippers. Because if there is a woke points or fan-service character in GowR it would be Thrud and Heimdall, respectively. They're the only ones who could be either removed entirely (Thrud) or replaced/have their screentime reduced to one or two scenes and the story would've been exactly the same. Thrud's Valkyrie aspirations have no influence on the plot whatsoever and are a complete filler. I'm saying this not because I dislike either of them but because it's an objective fact that smashes troll arguments flat.

Then there is the matter of the trolls being unable to stand the fact that interactions with Angrboda is Atreus's healthiest and most positive relationship in the story. It especially challenged them that Angrboda always valued Atreus's personal choices and didn't once question him (even when she disagreed with his train of action), his moral character or his right to take his own independent decisions (on the contrary, Thrud questioned his every move and deemed him untrustworthy the moment he made one, genuine mistake with Garm - and the trolls deemed it admirable because "finally someone put that little runt in place"; they don't actually ship Atreus and Thrud, they ship their own aggression and disdain towards Atreus projected onto Thrud).

Angrboda let Atreus exercise his agency (another troll nightmare as they cannot stand the very idea of Atreus having any) even when his actions went directly against her mother's words about the giant marbles or against the prophesy itself. That is, despite Angrboda considering the prophesy which killed both of her parents her lifeline. And believing that delivering said prophesy and the giant souls to Loki was her one and only mission in the existence full of loneliness (years of not speaking to another person, per Angrboda's own admission). As well as full of hard labor she had to engage in daily at a strikingly young age (purely out of love and sense of responsibility for every living thing in Ironwood) because there was no one around to help her (Atreus understandably expressed astonishment and admiration at that which Angrboda appreciated but - which is no less important - pointed out they're the same age; implying that she knows and acknowledges Atreus/Loki has gone through a lot himself and fared well). Even Angrboda's grandmother broke due to challenges that only made Angrboda more caring and compassionate.

Which is another point worth addressing about fandom culture because it tends to put down gentle and vulnerable girls and women as "unfeminist". Modern "feminism" has little to do with woman empowerment or rights and is a repackaged patriarchy that praises women/female characters as strong and independent only when they take the aggressor and conqueror mantle from a man.

Kratos fell a victim of a similar thinking on part of both the gamebro AND the "progressive" segment of the fandom. I realize Tumblr is not ready yet for that conversation, but masculinity is not inherently toxic and neither is femininity. What both gamebros and woke types cannot handle is that Kratos's development and Angrboda's character represent the type of masculinity and femininity, respectively, that isn't imposed on them by the sexist society but that is based completely on their free will and life experience. Moreover, Thrud is the one who was heavily influenced by the toxic environment she grew up in. Therefore considering her a "feminist icon" is both factually wrong and unwise (even if we discount her "treacherous ex wife" comment in regards to Freya because that was ALSO a part of Odin's toxic influence that she can now, hopefully, work through and move on from).

But the most delightful part is that none of those troll views and arguments have proven to matter at all. GowR developers went on to do literally every single thing trolls dreaded. Freya was not made into a "big bad b!tch who deserved to be killed by Kratos for being a less than perfect mother" (even though not only was Kratos the furthest thing from the father of the year in Gow18 but as you note, the very same people wouldn't object to physical violence against Atreus at his hands). Kratos continued to work towards healthier existence and carving a better path. Angrboda remained an emotionally mature, loving, caring and independent person with a potential of her relationship with Atreus going further in the following installments. Atreus is clearly set up to have his own spin off or remain a secondary protagonist or even become the main protagonist next game. That in and of itself is a prime example of how irrelevant trolls and their entitled demands are in the grand scheme of things.

That being said, as I always point out, we should keep in mind we cannot control media we consume, only our experience with it. A healthy emotional distance from it is the only way to avoid stress if/when the writers come up with decisions we might not like or find offensive. Mental well being should be our priority and media created by others should never define us.

Thank you again for this positive and inspiring message. Have a great and fulfilling time yourself <3

#reply #countlessofvoids #text

[waterdeepp]

You know why I love Gale?

He is not perfect. He has made so many mistakes, he's not always a good person, but damnit all he tries. Imagine yourself as Gale: A highly skilled wizard from the time he was young. And the person you love and trust slowly breaks you down until you are nothing, when they finally cast you aside like you are nothing. This was Gale.

Gale defines himself based on the skill and prowess of his wizardry. Being Mystra's chosen, more than likely exacerbated this feeling.

"I don't like Gale, he's annoying and talks too much."

You would talk too much if you were locked away in a tower for years - in total isolation. His social skills are lacking because of this. And conversing with a Goddess is certainly going to change how someone perceives human interaction.

Gale is very far from perfect. But he's human. Humans are lacking in many ways. We're selfish, cruel, self centered. Every single one of us has one of the negative traits that Gale possesses.

While this part is speculation, I think it's fairly obvious Gale is naive and Mystra preyed on this. If you play an Evil!Tav or Embrace!Durge, Gale will follow as you say. He wants to please, he wants companionship, he wants someone in his life. He is aware what he's doing is wrong. He's so very aware. (For the record, ALL your companions will do fucked up things with you if coerced, just like Gale. This is not unique to him)

Have none of us done something we KNOW is wrong? We're only human.

People get so hung up on the fact that Gale can easily be pushed into being evil. But is that not every other character? Astarion is selfish and egotistical. Lae'zel thrives on battle and bloodshed. But no one complains about their evil/negative traits, so why single out Gale?

"He's annoying!" Is Astarion not totally fucked up for giving you approval when you poke the injured bird Nettie was healing? For extorting the people you help? For intimidating Topaz in the grove? The list goes on. None of your companions are perfect. All have their flaws and make mistakes. But seriously - are we going to act like Gale is the ONLY morally questionable person? Hell, I think Gale is the most morally sound of the group next to Karlach and Halsin.

In short, most of people's reasoning for genuinely hating Gale do not hold up to any scrutiny. There's reasons to dislike him, but him "being annoying and talking to much" is not one of them. Him being hung up on Mystra - not one of them. Him being easy to manipulate - not one of them!!!

#gale dekarios

[grayintogreen]

Is this anything?

#something something cruel affectionate gestures #centered on the only part of someone that has use to them #i'm sorry but the second time i watched and the HE grabbed Rocket's head like that #i was like bitch are you mother gotheling that baby #guardians of the galaxy #gotg spoilers #rocket raccoon #the high evolutionary

[paragonrobits]

some important calvin and hobbes facts in case you haven't read the original comic strip in a long time or only absorbed stuff on it from memes and out of context bits on here:

Calvin's last name has never been given, and neither has any of his parent's names. This was actually why his uncle Max only showed up for a brief storyline; the creator of the comic, Bill Watterson, ultimately felt that while it was fine to have him as someone for his parents to talk to, it felt far too awkward to never have Max refer to them by name and he never made a return appearance.

The general tone of the comic is fairly light-hearted, with a big emphasis on goofy slapstick comedy contrasted by clever wordplay and often surprising adult-centered jokes that'll hit you like a slap. A big part of the comedy is, as Watterson put it (paraphrased) "It's really funny to me when people express deeply stupid ideas with really fancy terminology." One notable example you might have seen is that one bit where Calvin asks his mom for money to buy a Satan-worshiping rock album and his mom replies that there's nothing genuine about them and they're just putting on the attitude for shock value, and comisserates with Calvin as he deplores that mainstream nihilism can't be trusted. He concludes that childhood is disillusioning.

There is a LOT of criticism of the extreme materialism and selfish mentality of the late 80s, when the comic was initially written. This may go a long way to explain how its aged so well; much of what it criticizes resonates well with people today.

Bill Watterson views comic strips a legitimate form of artwork, and repeatedly fought to have more space to draw more beautiful and artistic backgrounds, which was a very hard fight and unpopular even with other comic strip artists. He eventually did win some compromises and a lot of Calvin And Hobbes' artwork shows it, with the use of space to indicate time as well as a sharp contrast between the often plain environments of mundane life contrasted by the wildly beautiful imagery of Calvin's imagination (which often sports realistic depictions in an art shift of sorts).

Hobbes is explicitly not an imaginary friend, by word of Watterson himself. We don't know WHAT he is exactly, and Hobbes is apparently unaware of the strange nature of his reality; people look at him and only see an ordinary stuffed tiger plushie, but he has a tangible effect on the world that would be physically impossible for Calvin to do on his own. He's apparently been around for a while, and was apparently around when Calvin was a young baby.

On that note; Hobbes has implicitly killed (notably treated as both a gag and also with the vibe of 'he's a tiger, duh') and while he doesn't do it again on-screen, he doesn't have any moral issues about it. Calvin claims that he's never had trouble bringing Hobbes to school because the last time he did, Hobbes killed and ate a bully named Tommy Chestnut and simply comments that it was gross and he needed a bath. Calvin's tried to repeat this again, but Hobbes was grossed out at the thought having to eat a kid raw and not being allowed to use an oven first, or complaining that children are too fattening.

Hobbes became gradually less human-like in body language and more like an actual cat in both body language and behavior; this was due to Watterson drawing more inspiration from his cat, who also inspired a lot of Hobbes' running gags, such as pouncing on Calvin when he got home. Several years into the syndication of the strip, Watterson's cat passed away, and he did a tribute to her with a comic strip of the two of them agreeing to try to dream together so they can keep playing when they have to sleep; Watterson's commentary (if I recall right), remarks on his cat: "We can see each other again in dreams."

#calvin and hobbes #queued

[roturo]

HOW THEY FUCK YOU IN PUBLIC.

HOW JJK MEN FUCK YOU IN PUBLIC. (semi public.)

warnings: semi-public sex, public sex, unprotected sex, p in v, exhibitionism, fingering, blowjob, use of vibrators, jealousy, marking, edging, dacryphilia, degradation kink, praise kink. reblogs are appreciated:)

gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, toji fushiguro, megumi fushiguro, sukuna & yuuji itadori.

Gojo Satoru:

This man will make it obvious. He’s not embarrassed, in fact, he would be aroused by it. Noticing people giving the both of you stares, them noticing the hickeys on your neck, the messy makeup, it’s too much for him. Makes him hard again.

And it would happen at the most random times.

Mostly because he gets jealous, this man gets jealous because of everything. He doesn’t trust the other men around you. So that’s why he likes to show what’s his.

He’s more of taking the both of you to the restroom and fuck rather than a vibrator. Oh, and he loves teasing your legs with his fingers near your entrance, your trembling voice, hot face, making his pants get tighter and tighter.

“You like that. Don't you? Slut. Keep that pretty mouth of yours shut if you don’t want other to know how good i’m fucking your pussy right now.” You couldn’t contain your moans, not even covering your mouth helps. It was too much, he was too much.

“Don’t tell me you’re into that? Of course you’re into that. You fucking whore. I’ll make sure for everyone to know how good you get fucked. This pussy is mine.”

Geto Suguru:

This man is elegant. Uses vibrators, and fucks you in public as a punishment. He might not seem like it, but I swear this man is a JEALOUS man. Loves hanging out with others, sitting at the table while you’re by his side, hands down the table, control in hand and shakily sound coming out of you.

He would have a box of vibrators with different sizes, colors, and levels, just for this time of occasion or whenever he’s in the mood to just fuck with you.

Because he loves that, not only because he gets yards seeing you angry at him, but because of how turned on he gets while reclaiming what’s his.

He’s discreet about it, but makes it clear for you to never disobey him or look in direction towards another man.

“Am I going to fast baby?” He says in your ear, in a slow seductive low voice. Friends talking in front of the both of you, like nothing is happening down the table. “Aw, we’ll that’s so fucking sad for you, you decided to act like a big girl with other men, then take it like one.” He says while leveling up the vibrator, his hand resting on your thigh, looking happily at his friends and laughing at whatever they were talking about.

This was going to be a long day.

Nanami Kento:

He’s not the kind to fuck in public.

Prefers doing it in private, having his time, and enjoying it.

But when you get a little bit too bratty for his liking, he would snicker his legs(shoes) down the table to your center. Slightly moving it through your panties and clit, touching it with the point part of his shoe.

Edging you for release, he would retreat his shoe just in time for you not to cum. Asking the waitress for some water.

But when you get a little bit TOO bratty for his PATIENCE, he wouldn’t say a word. And that’s how you know you fucked up. Wouldn’t care if someone watched the both of you, he makes the two of you enter the restroom and fuck the soul out of you.

“You fucking slut. Couldn’t wait some hours to get fucked huh?” One of his arms wrapped around your waist, while his free hand rests on your neck. “And you need to have it right now. Like the fucking brat you are.”

Toji Fushiguro:

This man wouldn’t care. Not even like Gojo, he would make it SO obvious it becomes uncomfortable for the people around you watching the both of you having… intimacy.

His fingers would roam around your skirt/dress, making it easier for him to touch you, and shamelessly get under it. Touching the wet patch forming on your center, chuckling to himself. He loves knowing he has this type of power over you.

He would finger you to the max, his arm visibly shaking so you could get some pleasure, all while maintaining a smile like he’s overstimulating your core.

“I want to fuck you so badly.” He says while rubbing your clit with his thumb. “Too bad your fucking my fingers right now. I would love to fuck you infront of all this people. Such a piece of art.” A specific curl of his finger was enough for you to reach your climax. Trying to moan the lowest as possible to not bring any more attention, would be in vain, because he would shamelessly get his fingers out and insert them inside his mouth to lick your liquids off.

Megumi Fushiguro:

He’s not into it. Actually, you initiate it. By teasing him in public, touching him by ‘accident’ near his crotch. Showing a little bit more of your thigh to him, being all touchy.

But he’s a hard man to break, so you would get bored and annoyed easily. So that’s why you try to make him jealous.

And he won’t show it, but inside he’s figuring his own shadows to not fucking take you right there and erase that smirk of yours.

Taking advantage of you being way too busy trying to claim his attention while flirting with Yuuji, he went near the both of you and placed his hand on the back of your waist. Plastering a small smile on his face.

Yuuji noticed in less than a second he was mad. His hand traveled down your figure to your ass, your eyes widening looking back at Yuuji who was as shocked as you.

He gave a small almost visible smack, which caught you by surprise and made you squeak at the surprise. Feeling your face heated up, while Yuuji scratches the back of his neck. “Uhh…” He looks down at his phone, thanking god he has a way of leaving this situation. “Gojo-Sensei is calling me. Talk to you later guys!”

He sprinted as fast as possible towards the door, leaving the both of you alone. Wasting no time he laid you down on a desk and started taking your panties off and unbuckling his pants.

“You fucking whore. Can’t get enough of a cock you want another one huh?” He said while thrusts, a phone on his hand recording your fucked uo faces, tears dried down your cheeks. Messy moans and whines coming out of your mouth while he records the entrance where his cock appears and disappears inside of you.

The next day, he would ask Yuuji to meet him alone and show him the video. Threatening him to never let himself be that touchy with you.

Sukuna & Yuuji:

This would be more of a threesome tbh, this isn’t a lot like “public sex”, but i’ll start with explicit comments coming out of Yuuji thanks to a sukuna mouth appearing on his cheek. Saying how good your ass looked in that dress, saying how he wants to rip it apart and fuck you infront of everyone. Calling Yuuji a virgin and saying he has the same thoughts of you.

Yuuji would be bright red, looking at his classmates who were shocked and laughing at him at the remarks of Sukuna.

So that’s how you ended up in his room. Someway Sukuna and Yuuji being in control at the same time, while you fuck his cock in your mouth and ride his feet which has a mouth on it. Sucking your clit and tongue circling your entrance, until he appears with another arm and fingers you.

“Nn-ngh~ Don’t stop! You’re such a good girl…” Yuuji said while bobbing your head with his hand on top of your head. “She’s more of a brat. She’s teasing a lot, stop with that.” Sukuna said, curling his fingers just right, making you moan with his cock inside of you. Sending vibrations which made Yuuji moan and release inside of you. “Step back kiddo, it’s my turn to fuck with her.”

#gojo satoru smut #geto suguru smut #nanami kento smut #toji fushiguro smut #megumi fushiguro smut #sukuna smut #yuuji itadori smut #gojo satoru #geto suguru #nanami kento #toji fushiguro #megumi fushiguro #sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #megumi smut

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Controversial opinion among Dune book fans maybe, but I loved the changes they made to Chani's character. Making her a fedaykin who is already an experienced fighter before Paul arrives was a brilliant choice. Dune Part Two is a war movie, and this puts her at the center of the action, side by side with Paul, and gives her a much more active role than she has in the book.

We got a hint of where things were going in the beginning of Dune Part One. The first thing we ever know about movie Chani is that she's a fighter. She serves as a voice for the Fremen, telling us the story of their struggle from her point of view. I wrote here about the difference this change makes compared to other adaptations of Dune, what a perspective shift it is to have the world of Arrakis introduced not by an outsider, describing it as a dangerous but valuable colonial prize, but by one of its native inhabitants, who tells us before all else that it's beautiful, her home that she's fighting to liberate. I am so, so glad that the second movie followed up on this characterization.

I never found Chani and Paul's love story in the book particularly convincing, because why would this woman, who already has a prominent and respected place in Fremen society, even give the time of day to her deposed would-be colonizer, let alone fall in love and have children with him? Without a compelling reason for Chani to love Paul, she ends up feeling like a prize to be won, and "indigenous culture personified as a woman to be wooed (or conquered) by the colonizing man" is a trope we've seen and don't need to repeat.

But as soon as you tell me it's a barricade romance I get it. Cool cool cool, I know exactly what this relationship is now and it makes sense. Movie Chani doesn't respect or even particularly like Paul when she first meets him, and she doesn't think he's the fulfillment of any prophecy. She comes to respect him, and eventually love him, through his actions. He's brave--sometimes recklessly so. He fights well. He's willing to stick his neck out on the front lines with the other Fremen fighters. He can (after a little help) hack surviving in the harsh desert environment. He's not too proud to learn from others. He seems to genuinely want to be her equal in a common political struggle. All these qualities make sense as things she values.

Fighting side by side as equals is just about the only way I can see movie Chani falling for Paul. And it fits perfectly with the film's pattern of reversals that Paul's capacity for violence would initially be one of the things Chani likes about him, only for her to be repelled later when she sees what he becomes.

And as for Paul, well, he's had people deferring to him his entire life. Someone who doesn't take any shit from him is probably refreshing. He seems to like people (Duncan, Gurney) who challenge him and engage in a little friendly teasing--and aren't afraid to go a few rounds in the sparring ring.

It's easy to speedrun a romance when you're spending all your time together in mortal danger fighting for a shared political cause. Especially if you then start winning in a war your people have been fighting for decades. Are you kidding me? That is the perfect environment for intense battle camaraderie to turn into romantic love, and lust.

It makes sense that this version of Chani never believes Paul is any kind of messiah. Of course a character like movie Chani wouldn't believe in or trust some outside savior to liberate them. She's been working to liberate her own people for years. The more Paul invokes the messianic myth, the more he starts sounding once again like someone who plans to rule over them, and the more uncomfortable Chani becomes. In this way she becomes a foil to Jessica, the two of them representing the choices Paul is pulled between. It's a great way of externalizing the political and philosophical debates that often happen within characters' heads in the book.

And of course this version of Chani would leave Paul at the end of the film. It's not just the personal, emotional betrayal--although that stings. What common cause does she have with someone who just declared himself emperor and is sending her own people off in a war of conquest against others? Given the important role she plays in Dune Messiah, I am super curious to see how they get her back into the story, but girl was so valid for being willing to just gtfo. Given that she has the last shot of the whole movie, I'm sure she'll be back somehow, and I can't wait to see what they do with her character in any future installments.

#dune #dune part two #dune part 2 #chani kynes #paul atreides #adaptation #dune spoilers

[127rkives]

uhhhh idk if anyone has discussed this before but... miguel likes to eat pussy from the back!!!

like idk, every once in a while, his brain goes brrrr and something short circuits. idk chalk it up to stress but it's more like some feral, animalistic urge. he can’t really explain it. it’s almost as if someone flips a switch, his mind goes blank except for the thought of needing to be with you, under you, in you. he has to stop whatever he’s doing and go find you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

and as soon as he makes it home to find you relaxed on the couch, he's flipping you over, contorting you face down ass up, and he’s nuzzling into your clothed pussy like a dog in fucking heat. when he’s finally spent just enough time shrouded in the scent of you, he's yanking your shorts off. he’s been at this for approximately 2 minutes but there's already a wet patch in the center of your panties. that sight makes his pupils dilate before going in for the kill. his claws come out to rip your panties to shreds right before he straight up nose dives into your pussy, and granted you can feel him, the action still catches you off guard enough for you to emit a loud gasp. it’s just too much too fast. “mig- ohhh!~”

“mmm... mmmf” miguel gets so much satisfaction from tasting you that he releases moans of his own. they would be bouncing around the room and intermingling with yours except right now he can't bring himself to pry his tongue from the slick walls of your cunt. 

“oh my gosh- miguel!”

hearing you raise your voice in alarm while saying his name is enough to make miguel pause for a second. you take the moment of reprieve to look over your shoulder— huffing and puffing— only to be stunned by miguel’s animalistic look. his curls are messily hanging near his eyes which are dark, yet spacey as if he’s on another planet. his lips are parted just enough to show a peek of his fangs as he breathes heavily through his mouth after suffocating himself with your pussy, and a gleaming mixture of his spit and your slick is smothered over half of his face and all the way down to his collarbone.

“m- miggy could you just give me a few seconds?” you ask. miguel tilts his head to the side and scoffs. a curt “no” is all you get before miguel locks his arms around your thighs to drag you back to his watering mouth. you don’t have claws like miguel but if you did the couch cushions would definitely be in shreds from the way you’re gripping them. 

the wet slurps of miguel’s tongue lapping at your cunt are soon paired with two of his thick fingers easily slipping in thanks to your arousal. he scissors them for a moment before adding a third. the speed he uses to pump them in and out and the feeling of his slightly calloused fingers against your gummy walls leaves you floating in the clouds. you’re brought crashing back down, however, when a deep groan from miguel sends sparks up your spine. soon enough you feel pressure building at the bottom of your stomach, only it doesn’t feel like it usually does. in a fit of panic you try to drag yourself out of miguel’s grip.

“ohhh my go- miggy!” it’s all you can do to let out little slurred calls of his name, but it doesn’t matter. miguel’s not stopping until he’s satisfied. your escape attempts are useless, but the wiggling is enough to piss him off.

“querida. don’t move so much. be good.” but you can’t be still. the tingly feeling in your tummy is growing and all you can do let out breathy moans as you thrash around in ecstacy.

“ahh- i can- can’t help it!”

all of your moving loosened miguel’s grip too much for his liking. in less than a second, he's yanking you back towards his mouth and hoisting your hips just high enough to wrap his lips around your cute little clit. 

one hard suck is all it takes before you’re squealing at the top of your lungs. a scream of “miguel!~” is the only thing leaving your lips while your vision goes white and your breathing stops for a second. miguel is unrelenting behind you, switching to messily swiping his thumb across your clit and shoving his tongue back into your pulsating cunt in an attempt to catch every last drop squirting in to his mouth. 

even when your arms give out beneath you and you faceplant into the couch miguel is still lapping at your outer lips like he’s been saved after being stranded in the desert for a year.

and like that, it’s like the switch in his brain flips again. he smooths his hands up and down your trembling thighs and scatters kisses in a path up your back to the nape of your neck. “you okay, cariño?” a weak “mhm” is all you can muster up as you turn your head to flash miguel a floaty smirk. he smiles and chuckles, recognizing the foggy look in your eyes. covered in a sheen of sweat and high off the feeling of him is just one of the times miguel thinks you look the most beautiful.

after ghosting his hands across your skin and giving you a few minutes to calm down, miguel goes to gently move you to his lap. he buries his nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling all of you. with the little strength you have, you wiggle around in his lap attempting to get comfortable but something is in the way- 

“ohh~” miguel’s breath is hot on your neck as he groans into it. his fangs graze your skin, his hands grasp onto your hips for dear life and oh...

someone flipped the damn switch again...

#miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara smut #miguel smut #miguel thirst #spider-man 2099 smut #spider-man across the multiverse smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #way longer than this was supposed to be buut oh well

[nitw]

OKAY REAL TALK. i'm on episode 5 rn. if this keeps up the way i think it is then this show is such a fucking genius adaptation, and i never would've seen it coming

like yeah, an animated scott pilgrim series authentic to the comics and the story bryan originally wanted to tell would've been amazing too. but when you think about it, SCOTT'S story has already been told to us more than a few times now. even if the live action movie took a different turn by accident, the overall message of "well-intentioned people can still make, and should still take responsibility for, mistakes that hurt those who care about them, and indifference will only end up hurting them back" still sticks for the most part.

but it's mainly been from scott's perspective. which makes sense! he's the main character, so, obviously!! but here's the thing: ramona has ALWAYS served as a reflection of scott's issues. ngl i think this is one of the most consistent things in the entire franchise, and it's why i love ramona so much. as we dive further into her backstory we learn just how much of a wall she's built around herself, how she's afraid of trusting people, but especially that, as sympathetic as she is, she's also caused so much (unintentional) damage herself. although she's introduced as someone literally too good to be true and unreachable by scott's standards, it becomes more and more apparent how similar scott and ramona are, and so they're perfect for guiding each other towards a brighter path.

and what better way to highlight this than to flip the tables completely, putting RAMONA center stage aka making the audience intimately familiar with her immediately, making SCOTT the mysterious damsel in distress/goal at the finish line instead, driving ramona to face the 7 evil exes and making amends with them in a way scott never could???

also can i just say. HUGE SHOUTOUT to the marketing team for hiding this reveal SOOOOO well. like seriously, i was worried they were showing TOO MUCH in the trailers BUT I WAS WRONG. WE GOT PLAYED SO HARD

#ANYWAY ILL KEEP WATCHING NOW #leo.txt #spto spoilers #ramona flowers #scott pilgrim #spvstw #scott pilgrim takes off

[ghostfacd]

IN A WORLD FULL OF BOYS, HE’S A GENTLEMAN ! | TOM BLYTH

PAIRING. tom blyth x fem!actress!reader

SUMMARY. despite being in a world filled of childish boys, your boyfriend was definitely a gentleman, always putting you before him

AUTHORS NOTE. the third installment because we love tom blyth and yn avocot. I recommend reading part 1 and 2 for more context!

tomblyth “babe, do you think we’re together in every universe?” is that even a question?

tagged @/ynuser

view all comments

ynuser stoppp i didn’t know youd actually take the question seriously

user1 get you a man like tom blyth bc oh my god

user2 idk what yn did to manifest him but i need her ways

user3 ugh idk what he’s doing with her lol he could do so much better

➥ user4 well someone had to say it..

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

You didn’t understand how some people on the internet can be so . . . mean. Although there have been countless of fans cheering you and Tom on, it didn’t make it any less hurtful that there were still a ton who weren’t scared to be open about how much your boyfriend could do better.

It’s ironic; you think. They’re claiming they’re looking out for Tom, yet totally disregarding him and his girlfriend as human beings? Those weren’t real fans.

The reason for them hating you so much? Just for simply being with Tom. Everybody wanted him, that was your crime.

Everytime you got lost in your thoughts about this topic, Tom knew. Boyfriend instincts, he called them, but really, he was just a caring and observant person.

You tried not to break down over it, you really did, but a girl could only go on for so long before it all bursts out. Luckily, Tom pulls you right in, telling you to let it all out.

Although the world was filled with childish and hurtful beings, Tom Blyth was still who he was, a gentleman, attending to your every needs.

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

tomblyth really dgaf if you like my girlfriend or not cause i do and that’s all that matters

view all comments

user5 im cryinf the polaroid he has of her

user6 YES REAL MEN STAND UP FOR THEIR GFS

user7 ALL THE PICS HE HAS OF HER 🥹🥹

tomblythswife oh to be yn avocot and be loved by tom blyth

rachelzegler tell ‘em 🙊

user8 she doesn’t even comment on the posts he makes abt her, so self centered lol

➥ ynuser I’m right next to him rn?? cant say the same thing about you “lol”

➥ user9 OH SHE ATE YOU UP @/user8

tomblyth_daily here are some clips of tom talking about his relationship in his new interview! GET YOU A MAN THATS LIKE TOM BLYTH 🗣️🗣️🗣️

view all comments

user10 the way he’s so passionate when talking about her and being a good boyfriend, God I hate being single

user11 “they’re not even that cute” STFU AND GO WATCH THIS INTERVIEW CAUSE ??

user12 tom blyth said put aside your nonchalant attitudes, im looking at YOU MEN 🫵🫵

ilovetomblyth he’s so boyfriend it actually hurts

user13 yn must’ve saved a continent in her past life to be dating tom blyth omg

ynuser girls, before you have a meltdown over a boy: think of what balleona laurent would do. kiss and manipulate coriolanus!

view all comments

tomblyth you kiss and manipulate me too

➥ ynuser you’re gonna get me CANCELLED

user14 literal unbothered icon i love her

user15 if i were her id post a tiktok with that audio “he chose me he don’t want you”

iloveyn SHES SO FUNNY

lionsgate us when behind the scenes photo of balleona 😻

➥ user16 lmao stop who’s the admin of lionsgate

user17 balleona is such a bad person but oh is she hot

tomblyth she was like a shot of espresso

tagged @/ynuser

view all comments

ynuser i love u more than words can describe blyth

user18 ok who’s cutting onions

user19 GIRLS, GUYS, THEY THEMS, STOP SETTLING FOR BARE MINIMUM WHEN TOM BLYTH LITERALLY CALLED HIS GF A SHOT OF ESPRESSO, GIVES HER FLOWERS EVERYDAY, AND TALKS ABT HER ALL THE TIME IN HIS INTERVIEWS

➥ user20 YELL IT HARDER SISTER 👐👐👐

user21 this is so dark academica im inlove with u guys

user22 parentssss

rachelzegler my favorites

ynuser SNOW LANDS ON TOP LOSERS

view all comments

tomblyth yn, i love you but

➥ user23 LMFAOO when he doesn’t finish his sentence

user24 the second pic thank u yn

joshandresrivera on top of u maybe

➥ user25 IM DYING OML

user26 thank you to lionsgate for casting the most hottest villain couple ever

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fluff #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow angst #coriolanus snow fic #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games

[crystalflygeo]

Mark of an Archon ft. Venti / Zhongli / Ei / Focalors / Nahida / Neuvillette + gn!reader

cw/tags: Mostly suggestive but nsfw in some parts (mostly Zhongli, Neuvillette) marking, kissing.

notes: Alright so... this is different from anything I've written before but I got inspired by the concept of the elemental symbols used as marks by the Archons to denote those important to them. Just short fluffy little dabbles I guess, first time writing everyone except the dragon men heh. I tried REALLY HARD to keep this gender neutral and be inclusive in descriptions but regardless, reader bottoms lmao. Hope y'all like it. (Y'all will NEVER guess where did I get the inspiration for all the marks' placements hehe) Edit: Y'all I have never played obey me WHEEZE the marks placement actually comes from a very old magical girl anime I loved as a kid XDDDD (except geo, it was on the belly button but-//hit)

It is said that the Archons place a mark on the body of their loved ones. A symbol of protection, perhaps of “ownership”, imbued with their elemental energy. Legends has it that they remain mostly invisible to the naked eye, glowing brightly only when the Archon in question touches it, but leaving behind a distinctive trace able to be identified with elemental sight.

However, none of this has been proven at all, and remains mostly as a fantastic tale, just a rumor…

Or is it?

-Barbatos

Venti’s mark rests between your shoulder blades, the small Anemo sigil emulating tiny wings in the most appropriate of places. It makes him fond of calling you his “angel”, though, you know it cannot compare to his own real wings... it makes your heart flutter nonetheless.

It remains mostly covered, and yet without fail, Venti’s hand would always gently rest on it before his hand slides over to your shoulder or waist. At this point the touch soothes you and you’ve come to expect it every time you enter Angel’s share and bright Aqua eyes land on you.

In the dark of night, those precious moments of closeness and passion among the bedsheets, Venti’s nimble fingers, calloused by the Lyre and the bow alike, trail along your spine and stop at the mark, before he leans in and places a kiss on it.

For the God of Freedom to brand someone like this… it would seem as a contradiction, but you know it to be his blessing, his vow to you and your love. As his lips go up to your shoulder and his hands slide down to your waist, sneaking between your legs, he closes his eyes and hums a soft tune.

-Morax

The Geo mark is found on a rather unusual place, and to tell the truth, it even embarrassed you a little at first. The golden diamond placed just below your navel, partially hidden by the line of your underwear. When asked about it, Zhongli simply murmured something about dragon mating, fertility or virility… his cheeks dusted red.

You admit though, that once you get used to it, you do find yourself idly tracing it from time to time. Sometimes it seems to glow softly, or feel warm, perhaps responding to the Archon when he thumbs gently at it, contrasting and comparing with his own blackened arms, etched with veins of gold. Amber eyes staring up at you with love and desire as he places a kiss on it making you shiver.

Zhongli constantly wants to mark you more, in all sorts of ways. Drape you in silks and cover you in gemstones and gold. Leave bite marks along your skin. Douse you in his scent. It appeases his draconic instincts. But nothing compares to that little geo sigil, a personal indisputable claim, tattooed on your skin.

In a way, the mark could be taken as the God of Contracts’ signature and an unbreakable oath to you, his mate. It makes the dragon purr as he rolls his hips into yours, sinking deep inside you and making you whine as his palm presses against it.

-Beelzebul

Right at the center of your collarbone, like a pendant held by an invisible necklace, that is where the Electro mark was placed by Ei. Sometimes it’s a real shame it can’t be seen normally by humans, it would make for a pretty nice tattoo…

It’s not like the Electro sigil is rare to see anyway, quite the contrary, a rather popular choice and common sight all over Inazuma with deep cultural and religious meanings alike honoring Her Excellency. But one look from a youkai or one of the mikos at Narukami shrine and you know this is different.

Ei could act aloof and have a hard time expressing or understanding feelings, but the way she looks at you as she straddles you… dark violet hair cascading down her back and sides, hands roaming your chest and settling at your shoulders. She pins you there under her intense purple gaze and then bends forward to kiss at the sigil before moving to your lips.

The Goddess of Eternity considers her choices deeply and rarely ever goes back on her word or breaks a promise, and that is what she bestows upon you with her mark, a promise. Of love, of respect, of loyalty. Who would’ve thought the Electro Archon could be so… passionate?

-Focalors

You couldn’t believe just where Lady Furina had placed a pretty, blue, Hydro symbol on your skin. When asked about it she’d just giggled and said everything had a reason when it came to divine marks such as these… then proceeded to not explain at all. But seriously, your inner thigh?!

You could only sigh but smile softly at her antics as she laid across the couch, head rested in your lap, taking a nap by using your thighs as pillow, or demanding to be fed more sweets and sputtering indignantly when you poke at her nose or cheek instead, blushing.

She often drives you insane, paying special attention to the hydro marking with kisses and nibbles when you need her lips to go just a little more to the side… but oh, how she enjoyed teasing and riling you up. Mismatched blue eyes blinking coyly under thick eyelashes.

This is Lady Furina’s pledge to you, her word of honor as the Goddess of Justice, to love and cherish you no matter what. For despite her innocent act, she is guilty of having fallen for you.

-Bonus: Buer (Platonic)

Many people underestimate and doubt Nahida. A grave sin, in your opinion. When she places her mark of Dendro softly in your forehead, you feel nothing but pride, willing to follow and defend her and her teachings, for it is an honor to be her acolyte.

You see her wisdom in her actions, in the contemplating looks at her beloved city and people, in the way she always tries to solve problems and learn from difficulties, in her kindness, gentleness and little smiles. You see her love in the way she helps the elderly and soothes the children, in the candied ajilenakh nuts she shares with everyone, in the sparkle of her unique green eyes.

Like any other Archon, her nation and all its inhabitants are like her children. Despite her preferred appearance, the way she holds your hand as she guides you along and brushes at your hair gently with comforting words and praise feel more akin to a mother.  

Just as you trust her, she trusts you, that is the covenant her sigil represents. And in the eyes of the Goddess of Wisdom, one day you’ll reach the sky and stars above.

-Bonus II: Hydro Dragon Sovereign

You stare at the sigil in the palm of your hand. An ancient symbol of power, no doubt, but with a meaning long since lost to time and shrouded in mystery. Yet, its significance is crystal clear to you: “I am yours as you are mine.”

The way the Iudex would always, without fail, hold your hand gently and kiss your palm instead of the back of it as it was traditional would no doubt confuse some people, but it makes your heart skip a beat. This special connection, the knowing look from those gorgeous lavender eyes and the hidden smile pressed against your skin…

Your back arches with a moan as Neuvillette ruts softly into you, slow and reverent, peppering kisses and nuzzling at your neck. His hand takes a hold of yours, fingers intertwining and you shiver as the marking in your palm seems to react. Your grip his hand tighter, canting your hips as well and surrounding him with your legs, asking for more, more, more-

It’s unknown if one day his kind will return to power, just as it’s impossible to predict the flow of the elements and the energy in leylines or just what the future will bring. But for Neuvillette, having you by his side feels like the most refreshing spring water and makes life that much sweeter.

#crys writes #oh god how do I tag this #genshin smut #?? #genshin impact smut #zhongli smut #neuvillette smut #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x reader #venti x reader #venti x you #ei x reader #ei x you #focalors x reader #focalors x you #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x you #gn reader #mdni #don't follow me either y'all gonna get blocked #does this count as venti ei and focalors smut??? #uuuhhhhhh #pls I just thought this was cool and sweet

[scuderiahoney]

Sweet Like Grenadine

Daniel Ricciardo x Reader

Masterlist

Summary: You love weddings. However, you don’t love being stuck by yourself at a wedding, a plus one to a boyfriend who’s too busy for you. Enter Daniel Ricciardo, your knight in shining armor.

Word Count: 5.6k

a/n: thought of this concept and couldn’t get Danny out of my head. He’s soooo guy you flirt with at a wedding and will probably never see again coded

Warnings: alcohol/intoxication, mild sexual content (heavy makeout? idrk how to tag this stuff), one (1) shitty boyfriend

The table in front of you is draped with a heavy white tablecloth. At the center is a large bouquet of flowers, the number 19 stuck haphazardly in the middle of it. Not last, but certainly low on the list. You can’t blame them- you barely know the bride and groom.

You’re only here because your boyfriend is a groomsman. A plus one. You love weddings, so of course you’d agreed, but you hadn’t really considered how lonely an event like this could be. The only person you really know has been busy all day. You can’t complain, won’t complain, you know that’s why he’s here, but…

You’re sitting at a table full of strangers. It’s not exactly fun. There’s still hours left of this. Dinner hasn’t even been served, there’s still speeches and cake and dancing and honestly, you’re already exhausted. You need a drink, but the bar isn’t open yet. You need to take off your heels, but you’re pretty sure that would be frowned upon. You need to talk to your boyfriend.

He’s busy, though. He told you as much when you found him between the ceremony and the reception. There’s a pang in your chest still at the way he brushed you off, the way he told you he didn’t have time to chat. You get it, you really do. You’re not going to get upset about it.

The seat to your left has been empty since you sat down, but someone collapses into it, letting out a heavy sigh. You turn to look, hoping for some sort of familiar face or at least a friendly one, and you’re met with-

“Hi. ‘M Daniel,” he says, sticking his hand out to shake yours.

The thing is, Daniel is a familiar face, but not for any of the reasons you’d hoped for. You know Daniel because your boyfriend is obsessed with Formula 1. You try to keep up so you can take part in his conversations, but it’s never really been your thing. But you know enough to know Daniel Ricciardo.

“Yeah, I… I know,” you say, before you slap your hand over your mouth. “Shit! I’m sorry. That’s weird. S’just- my boyfriend’s a huge fan-“

You swear his face drops slightly, but he plasters that grin right back on before he says, “and you’re not a fan?”

“I’m not not a fan,” you say. “He’s just the bigger fan. Of the two of us.”

Daniel nods. You finally shake his hand. He never stops looking at you, never stops smiling. You tell him your name, and he repeats it back to you, his accented version making you smile.

“Well, is he here? I’d love to meet the bigger of the two fans,” he says. “We talking, like, box fan, industrial blower, air boat fan? How big?”

You laugh, his hand squeezing yours as you lean over the table. He’s laughing, too, then, before he lets go of your hand. You want to crawl out of your skin, want to run and hide in the bathroom, because you’re definitely making a fool of yourself, but-

“Oh, he’s busy,” you say, waving your hand in the air dismissively. “He’s one of the groomsmen, got a lot on his plate. I don’t wanna bug him. He’s the one with the sunglasses on,” you say, pointing at him at the head table.

Daniel looks where you point and quirks his brow. “Guy like that has a girl like you and you’re the one worried about bugging him?”

You stare at him with wide eyes. He collapses into a fit of laughter again, and you follow suit. You don’t know what else to do. Then he nudges your knee with his, under the table, and juts his chin towards the bar.

“D’you want a drink?” He asks.

“The bar isn’t open yet,” you say.

“So?”

“So, how are you going to get a drink?”

He shakes his head and purses his lips. “Oh, sweetheart, you just watch and learn. What’re you having?”

You shrug. “A soda, I guess. I’m the designated driver for at least three of the groomsmen.”

Daniel sighs heavily. “You poor thing. You keep making me feel worse and worse for you. Alright, I’ll get you something.”

He strides his way up to the bar, which has a very obvious “Closed” sign on the countertop. There’s a single bartender behind it, and he’s cleaning glasses. You watch with entertainment as Daniel leans on the counter, exuding confidence and charm. The bartender shakes his head. Daniel counters. The man behind the bar shrugs and nods. Then he steps through a door for just a moment. When he returns, he has two drinks in his hands- one that’s obviously a beer, and one that’s bright pink. Daniel smiles, thanks the man, and walks the cups back to you.

He sets it down in front of you with a flourish before he takes a seat.

“I told you, I’m DD,” you remind him.

He nods, taking a sip of his beer before he says, “Shirley Temple.”

“Oh my god,” you say, a grin washing over your face. You pick up the cup and take a sip, sighing at the sweet taste of ginger ale and grenadine. “How did you know?”

“Everyone loves a good Shirley,” he says, elbowing you lightly. “And you can’t drink just plain soda at a wedding.”

They announce dinner shortly after that, and the waiters start bringing plates out. You’re starving, having been up early to help with last minute wedding things at your boyfriend’s request. You hadn’t had time to eat lunch. You chat with Daniel through the meal. The two of you talk about the food, about the wedding, about the decor. There are other people at the table, but they’re all incredibly boring in comparison. Daniel, on the other hand, could hold your attention forever, probably.

You sneak glances at your boyfriend, surrounded by his friends at the head table. He’d promised to sneak away as soon as he got a chance. He hasn’t even looked your way. You're trying to ignore the hurt deep in your chest. Daniel is sneaking glances at you sneaking glances at the bridal party. You’re trying to ignore that, too.

“How long have you two been dating?” Daniel asks.

“About 6 months,” you say with a smile.

It feels forced. Frankly, the last thing you want to talk about right now is your boyfriend. They’re clearing the last plates. He’s at his table, three beers in by your count, not a care in the world. He promised. Daniel opens his mouth, likely to ask another question about your boyfriend, but you speak first.

“So wait, are you here for the bride or the groom?” You ask.

“The bride,” Daniel says , a soft smile on his face. “An old family friend. I’m representing the Ricciardos.”

You smile. “That’s sweet.”

Before he can say anything in response, someone is tapping on a microphone. It’s time for the speeches. You know your boyfriend isn’t making one, which is good. He’s not exactly the best public speaker, especially when he’s been drinking. You and Daniel settle in to listen.

He sneaks away between the maid of honor and the best man, patting the back of your hand and whispering about being right back. He returns a few moments later, another beer and a Shirley Temple in his hands. You smile gratefully at him, and he waves you off. Then the next speech is starting, and you’re rolling your eyes at the way the best man talks about marriage like it’s some awful idea.

“He knows this is a wedding, yeah?” Daniel asks out of the side of his mouth, leaning towards you.

You shrug. “That one started drinking at 9am. I’m not sure he even knows what year it is right now.”

Daniel starts laughing, then. Luckily, the rest of the crowd does too- apparently, the best man has just made an extremely funny joke. Daniel is only looking at you, though, and you can’t help but laugh just because of the look on his face.

When the first dances are over and the music starts, you sink low into your seat. Your boyfriend has still not made an appearance. He definitely knows where you’re sitting, he had told you so earlier. You’re sure he’s busy, but you’d looked away for too long, talking to Daniel, and now he’s disappeared from the head table. You scan the crowd, hoping to see his face. All the while, you can feel Daniel watching you.

“We could go dance,” he suggests.

You sink lower in your seat. “I don’t really like dancing.”

That’s a lie. You love dancing, especially at weddings. You love the cheesy songs they always play, you love the atmosphere, you love watching the bride and groom have fun and getting to be a part of it. But you know how it would look if you went out on the dance floor with Daniel, and your boyfriend definitely won’t be joining you. As frustrated as you may be with your him, you don’t want to cause drama at someone else’s best day of their lives.

“I think I might try and find him,” you say, picking up your drink.

Daniel nods. “Want me to come with you?”

You look around at the rest of the table and find it empty. You shake your head and lean towards him, close enough that you almost knock your foreheads. Nobody’s watching the two of you or trying to listen anyways, but it’s more fun this way.

“He promised he’d find me before dinner,” you whisper conspiratorially. “That obviously didn’t happen. So I’m not bringing you to him as a reward for bad behavior.”

Daniel sits back in his chair and smiles at you, one brow raised. “Atta girl!”

You stand up from your chair and hope he can’t tell that your face has grown hot from that comment alone.

Even if you can’t find your boyfriend, it’s probably best that you get some space from Daniel. Through the last hour or so of your conversation, you’ve been catching yourself leaning towards him and then reminding yourself that you have a boyfriend. It’s just that he’s being so nice, and that you’re feeling so down about the whole thing. He’s comforting, which is fine. But it can’t be more than that.

You find your boyfriend at one of the bars, leaning on the counter and talking loudly with one of the other groomsmen. He’s drunk already- he should really slow down if he wants to last the night. You walk over to him, forcing a soft smile onto your face. You can’t confront him now, not in front of his friend and all the people waiting for drinks.

“Hey, babe,” you say, tapping his shoulder lightly as you walk up.

He turns. You wait for him to smile at you, but it never comes. Your stomach sinks.

“Hey,” he says, nonchalantly. “D’you need something?”

Your palms feel clammy. “Oh, no, I’m good! Just… wanted to say hi. S’been a bit.”

He nods. “Yeah. I told you I’d be busy tonight.”

His friend just stands there and listens. Your skin feels hot, and your eyes begin to sting.

“I know,” you say. “I’m not trying to bug you, I just- I was just walking by. Just. Yeah. That’s all. I’ll leave you to it.”

“I’ll come find you in a bit, baby,” he promises.

You don’t bother believing him this time.

Daniel doesn’t comment on your red eyes or the tear tracks on your cheeks when you return to the table. He just squeezes your arm and disappears for a moment, then comes back with yet another Shirley Temple. You don’t know whether to laugh or to cry, so you just take a sip of the drink instead.

“You don’t have to sit here with me,” you say to Daniel. “I’m definitely pulling down the mood.”

“Are you joking?” He says. “You’re the best thing at this party.”

You laugh, then, because the statement is so ridiculous that you can’t help it. He sounds so serious, and when you turn to look at him there’s no hint of teasing on his face. He just elbows your arm lightly again.

“Come on, we don’t have to dance but we’re not sitting here all night,” he says. “Let’s go wander.”

He stands from the table and tugs at your chair. You give in and stand up too, taking your drink from the table. You follow him as he weaves through the throngs of people. You like wandering. Wandering is a perfectly sensible thing to do with the guy you just met. At the wedding your boyfriend is a groomsman at. What else are you supposed to do, anyways?

He leads you past the dance floor, which you try not to look at forlornly. There are large glass doors at the back of the hall. He swings one open, holding it for you, waving you through with a flourish of his hand. Outside, it’s lit up with string lights. There’s a wide rolling lawn of grass, with fire pits and chairs spread out everywhere. There are lawn games, too- beanbags and horseshoes and a giant version of Jenga.

You can burn a lot of time out here. You barely even notice when Daniel slips his hand around your wrist to gently pull you with him. You should feel guilty about it. Your boyfriend is somewhere inside. But that same boyfriend has also been ignoring you all night. Daniel is just being friendly. You follow him to one of the fire pits with a smile on your face.

You and Daniel are nearly two hours into wandering when someone calls your name. You look up from where you’ve been staring at the beanbag board, trying to line up your throw just right. You’d been on the verge of winning for the first time. For an Australian, Daniel is surprisingly good at American lawn games. Frustratingly good, even.

It’s your boyfriend, calling you from the doorway of the reception hall. You sigh and drop the beanbag onto the ground near your feet. Two of the other groomsmen are hanging off of him, looking worse for the wear. One of them has something down the front of his shirt- you pray it’s not vomit.

“I think that’s my cue,” you say, nodding towards the building.

“You could always put them in a cab and hope they figure it out on their own.” Daniel says. You give him a skeptical look. “Kidding, kidding.”

“It’s tempting,” you admit.

Daniel bends over and picks up your heels from where they lay in the grass. You’d kicked them off as soon as you stepped into the soft grass outside. You slip the shoes back on and wince. Then you stick your hand out to him, palm open.

“Well, it was lovely to meet you,” you say, as he shakes your hand once more. “Thanks for not leaving me all alone.”

Daniel laughs. “I will be your ‘I-know-nobody-at-this-event-‘ partner anytime you want, sweetheart. Just give me a call. I’ll be there.”

You know what he’s trying to do. The opportunity is right there in front of you. He’s telling you to give him a call- this is where you ask for his number. But you have a boyfriend. You can justify hanging out with him, especially considering you had nothing else to do, but asking for his number feels a step too far.

You smile softly and drop his hand. “Goodnight, Daniel.”

You turn and make your way towards your boyfriend. He’s already complaining before you’re even within ten feet of him, about how he’s tired and he looked everywhere for you and how could you disappear like that? You apologize, just to quiet him down. You usher the three men inside before you turn to look at Daniel one more time.

He’s standing there, watching you, a sad smile on his face.

“Who was that guy?” Your boyfriend asks later, from the passenger seat of the car.

You look at him, at his eyes. The light is gone- he’s blacked out, there’s no way he’ll remember this tomorrow.

“Daniel Ricciardo,” you say.

It’s a testament to how drunk he is that he doesn’t even react.

You get all three guys into bed, including your boyfriend. You lay down next to him, as much as you don’t want to. There’s not really anywhere else to sleep in the little hotel room, and you’re not sleeping on the floor. When you close your eyes, you can’t fall asleep, plagued by thoughts of if you’d made the right choice, unable to erase Daniel’s sad smile from your memory.

…..

You love weddings. You remind yourself of that over and over again as you pin a dress in place for the hundredth time that day. Your best friend Natalie is a bridesmaid, it’s her sister who’s getting married, and you’re here to help in any way you can. So far, that’s included safety pinning, making a run for alcohol, checking on the floral delivery, checking to make sure the groomsmen are where they’re supposed to be, and comforting a bridesmaid who was crying in the bathroom. Her boyfriend had broken up with her the night before.

“Men are shit,” you’d told her in commiseration.

By the time the ceremony rolls around, you’re relieved to have a chance to sit down. You check on the bridesmaids one last time and head into the church. The pews are packed with people, so you find a spot near the back and sit down. You sigh in relief.

The music starts playing, and you finally take a chance to look around. The pews are decorated with flowers, there’s bright light streaming through the large windows. The groom waits up front, eyes already watering. You love weddings. You say it like a mantra in your head.

As the procession starts, you scan the crowd. You know more people at this wedding, having been friends with the family for a while. You’ll at least have some company at your table. You spot a couple friends from high school, a cousin you’ve met a few times, some mutual friends who you’ll definitely have to catch up with later. And then, in the third row on the groom’s side, you see dark curly hair that looks terrifyingly familiar.

It can’t be him. That would be absolutely insane. There’s absolutely no way Daniel Ricciardo is attending a second wedding in the US, for a couple who are no more famous than the previous wedding you’d seen him at. It would make absolutely no sense. And yet, you can’t stop staring at the back of this man’s head, the slope of his shoulders beneath his dark suit. You remember that wedding, months ago, resting your hand on his shoulder for balance as you took off your heels. He’d joked about having to cut you off, holding your Shirley Temple in his hand.

When the bridal procession begins playing, everyone stands. You keep your eyes on him. He turns, and your heart skips a beat in your chest. It’s Daniel. It’s impossible, it’s irrational, but it is him. You’d recognize him anywhere.

You force yourself to look away, to turn towards the bride. She looks beautiful, perfect, the picture of elegance. The flowers in her hands, the ones you’d checked on that morning, are perfect too. You breathe a sigh of relief. She really should’ve hired a wedding coordinator. Maybe you should be a wedding coordinator.

When you go to sit back down, you sneak a glance at Daniel. He’s looking over his shoulder at you, eyes wide. You meet his gaze and your cheeks feel hot. That wide, bright grin breaks out across his face. You grin right back.

When the ceremony is over, and they’re officially Mr and Mrs, the whole wedding disperses out onto the lawn of the church. There are shuttles to take you to the reception, but everyone seems content to mingle outside in the fresh air. You’re one of the first ones out, but you’re quickly swept up in the crowd. You search for Daniel in every face that passes. You find Natalie first, though.

“Nat,” you say frantically. “Does your sister know Daniel Ricciardo?”

Her brow furrowed for a second. “What?”

“Danny Ricciardo,” you repeat, keeping your voice low. “The F1 driver. He’s here.”

“Oh,” Natalie says, brows raising. “Yeah, he’s like, friends with her fiancé- oh, her husband! Shit, I forgot that you watch that stuff- or, you… did? I can probably try and introduce you-“

“No, we- we’ve met.” You admit. She’s the first person you’re telling about this. “At that wedding like 6 months ago.”

She tilts her head at you. Her eyes go wide. She says your name in a bewildered tone.

“Are you telling me that the mystery wedding man, who you definitely should’ve dumped your boyfriend for, was fucking Danny Ricciardo?”

“Keep it down!” You shush her.

“Oh my god,” she says, a conspiratorial smirk crossing over her face. “And he’s here.”

Someone calls your name. You know that voice- it’s haunted you since you left that wedding. You turn over your shoulder as Natalie grabs your wrist and lets out a squeak.

“Danny,” you breathe, like a sigh of relief. “Hi.”

He strides up to you, handsome as ever, grinning so widely it looks like it hurts. “This is fucking insane.”

An elderly aunt glares at him. He makes an apologetic face before turning back to you and shrugging. He steps into your space, so close you can smell his cologne. He’s staring down at you through his lashes. The look in his eyes is so soft and warm that you think you’re melting.

“The bride is my best friend’s sister,” you explain, gesturing at Natalie. “This is Natalie.”

“I’m friends with the groom,” he says, reaches his hand out and shakes Natalie’s hand. “I’m Danny, nice to meet you.”

She nods, and suddenly you’re very afraid. Natalie doesn’t have much of a filter, especially in high pressure situations. Especially when she’s been forced to be prim and proper all morning.

“You must really like American weddings,” she says, and you wince. “I hear this is your second one in 6 months.”

Daniel smirks, raises his eyebrows at you. “Huh. Wonder what else you’ve heard about me.”

She opens her mouth to say something, but you shove her shoulder. “Nat, aren’t you supposed to be taking family pictures?”

She’s so busy staring at Daniel she almost doesn’t hear you. Then her eyes go wide. She swears loudly, earning a glare from the same aunt. Then she drops your wrist and takes off through the crowd.

You turn towards Daniel. “Sorry about her.”

He shakes his head. “No need. She seems sweet.”

You smile. “She is.”

“Makes sense, since she’s friends with you,” he says. “The sweetest of them all.”

You laugh, shove at his shoulder lightly. “Shut up.”

Behind him, people are starting to get on the shuttles. He’s leaning towards you, eyes still lit up.

“I honestly can’t believe this,” he says.

“Neither can I,” you admit. “It’s.. it’s really good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you,” he echoes. “Feels like a sign, doesn’t it?”

You open your mouth to agree, to tell him what you’ve been thinking the past 6 months, but Natalie is calling your name. You and Daniel both turn to look at her, and the look on her face tells you she’s so sorry. You sigh and shrug.

“I have to go,” you tell him. “That bridal party is a mess.”

“Worse than the last one?” He asks.

“No,” you say. “And I don’t have to drive any of them home, so that’s a bonus. But I think I’ll be billing them for wedding coordinator expenses after this. Or at the very least, drinking enough at the open bar to make up for it.”

Daniel laughs. “Atta girl. Should I save you a seat on the shuttle?”

You let out a puff of air. “I’m riding over with the bridal party.”

His face falls in disappointment. “Okay. Find me when you get there, yeah? I’ll have a Shirley Temple waiting for you.”

You nod. “Make it a Dirty Shirley, would you?”

He nods eagerly and squeezes your arm.

You don’t actually make it into the reception until nearly an hour later. There’s an emergency with a groomsman’s tux, and the girl who was broken up with the night before is crying again. Nothing that can’t be fixed with safety pins and tequila, but it still takes time. You check your name on the seating chart, sigh at the sight of the name next to yours, the seat that will stay empty. You find Daniel’s seat, too, a few tables over from yours. You head there first.

Daniel is sitting, a beer in hand and a very watery Shirley Temple on the table in front of him. He’s chatting with the man sitting next to him, who looks a bit starstruck. He perks up when he sees you, reaching for your drink. You take it happily and have a sip, tasting ginger ale, grenadine, and vodka, too.

“The ice is a bit melted,” he says with a sigh. “But good news! Ian here has offered to switch seats with you.”

Ian is looking between you and Daniel, eyes wide. You’re sure he did offer, likely after Daniel had told him the whole crazy story, or at least enough to convince him. You watched him charm bartenders at the last wedding- he has a way with words. Ian starts to stand up.

“That’s really not necessary.” You say, and Daniel’s face falls. “There’s an empty seat at my table.”

He lifts his brows, grinning again. His brown eyes stare deep into your own. He stands up without waiting another moment, handing you your drink and holding his own.

“Ian, nice meeting you,” he says. “I’ll still get you those paddock passes,” he promises, and you bite back a laugh. “See ya ‘round, mate.”

He follows you to your table. There’s a setting with your name on a little card, and the empty setting next to it with another name on it. You grab that card and crumple it in your hand, shoving it into your purse. He quirks a brow but sits down anyways as you greet the others at your table- cousins of the bride and friends who you’ve met a few times.

“So. How’ve things been?” You ask, and he launches into a story that has you listening with every bone in your body.

Somehow, the two of you make it all the way through dinner and speeches and the first dance before the subject of your boyfriend even comes up. You wonder if he’s been waiting to broach it. You’ve been waiting for the right moment.

He nods towards the dance floor. “You have to promise me you’ll dance to at least one song tonight.”

You blink and shrug. “Easy. I love dancing.”

He stares at you. There’s the beginnings of another wide grin on his face.

“That is not what you said last time.”

“I lied,” you admit. “Because my boyfriend hated dancing.”

Daniel nods. “Hated. Past tense?”

“He’s not dead,” you deadpan, making him laugh. “But he’s also not my boyfriend anymore.”

Daniel’s foot nudges against yours under the table. “No?”

“No,” you say with a shrug.

Daniel nods. “Pretty girl like you, you must’ve moved on pretty quick,” he says.

His tone is light, teasing. He’s testing the waters. You shake your head and pretend you don’t see the way his shoulders sag in relief.

“I’ve sworn off dating,” you tell him. Your tone is teasing, too. “After he left me on my own at a wedding, I decided men are shit.”

You’re taunting him now. The conversation has gone from feeling each other out, from digging for information, to circling each other like sharks in the water. Your heart is beating steady in your chest. His eyes are locked on yours.

“You poor thing,” he says, eyes sparkling. “Let me prove you wrong?”

The tension crackles in the air. His knee nudges against yours and you swear you’re going to combust. You down the rest of your drink in one gulp, set the glass down, and reach for his suit jacket. You run your finger down the lapel, then back up, adjusting his collar.

“I swore off men,” you repeat, leaning forwards, keeping your voice low. “But this feels like a sign, doesn’t it? Like the universe sent me back to you.”

He nods. He reaches up, captures your wrist in his hand and holds it against his chest.

“So maybe you should go get me another drink,” you suggest. “And I’ll meet you on the dance floor.”

You lean even closer, then, close enough to press your lips to his cheek. Then you stand up and walk away towards where people are beginning to gather, to where the music is loudest. You don’t turn back to see if he’s watching. You already know he is.

…..

You have a fleeting thought, later, that maybe you should’ve switched to a drink with less sugar in it at some point in the night. The grenadine feels like it’s stuck to your tongue. Danny doesn’t seem to mind the taste, though.

He’s got you up against the wall in a back hallway of the reception venue. You back is pressed to the cool surface, your arms around his neck, his hands on your hips. His lips are on yours, and he’s kissing you deeply, like he’ll never get enough. You’re feeling the same.

His knee slots between your legs, and you’re a goner. His hand slips from your hip and cups your ass, hauling you closer with ease, tilting your hips away from the wall and into his. You break away for air, gasping for it, and he moves his lips to your neck. It feels heavenly, trapped between him and the wall, his hands all over you, his lips trailing lower and lower. He reaches up and brushes the thin strap of your dress off one of your shoulders. You shove your hands under his suit jacket and press them against his toned abdomen through his shirt. He lets out a groan, the noise vibrating against your neck. You throw your head back and laugh between gasps.

You wonder if he’d have his way with you right there. You wonder if you’d let him.

There are footsteps, then, clicking their way down the hall. You scramble to push him away as someone rounds the corner, but you know it’s painfully obvious. You turn your head, already feeling mortified, and come face to face with Natalie.

“Oh, thank god,” both you and your best friend say at the same time.

Daniel pulls away and looks between the two of you. You can’t look at him for more than a few seconds. His lips are red and puffy, his eyes half lidded. You distantly wonder if there’s beard burn on your face, if your lips are just as red. Then you start to wonder how his scruff might feel on other parts of you.

“I didn’t know where you’d gone,” Natalie says, laughing. “I heard noises, I thought…”

“I’m fine,” you tell her, and she nods in agreement.

“I’ll say,” she teases.

“Nat!” You hiss.

“You’d better take good care of her, Ricciardo,” he says, and your face grows hot all over again. “I don’t care how famous you are, I’ll fuck you up anyways.”

“Nat!” You hiss again.

“I will,” Danny promises, squeezing your hip and nodding. “I’m on a mission. Trying to prove not all men are shit.”

“Good luck,” Natalie says drily. But when she walks away, she’s smiling.

He turns back to you, and this time he places both his hands on the wall on either side of your head. You look up at him, licking your lips. You still taste the Shirley Temple, and you can taste him, too, now. He groans softly and closes his eyes. It’s nice to know you’re having an effect on him, too, nice to know you’re not the only one feeling worked up. You reach up and tug on the lapels of his jacket. You brush your lips against his jaw.

“We should have one more drink,” you tell him, humming happily. “And then you should take me to your hotel.”

He swallows. You press a kiss to the center of his throat.

“I’ve never heard a better plan in my whole life.” He says.

…..

At every wedding you go to afterwards, you order the same drink. Well, really, Danny orders them for you. You’ve thought a couple times about asking for wine or seltzer or even beer. You think it might break his heart, though. It’s a tradition now, and the pink sugary concoction will always taste like that very first night. Like bare feet in the grass, the thud of beanbags against wooden boards. Like Daniel’s laugh in the middle of the best man’s speech. Like you, alone at a table, and Daniel collapsing into the seat next to you, his hand extended to shake yours.

The same hand that’s wrapped up with yours now, resting on his knee. You never want to let go. You’re pretty sure he’d be okay with that.

Taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams

#daniel riccardo x reader #Danny Ricciardo x reader #Daniel Ricciardo x you #Danny Ricciardo x you #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #honeywrites #formula 1 fanfic

[sanguineterrain]

window pains | jason todd

Summary: He's got a habit of coming in through the window. You want him to start staying... and using the door. 

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader 

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings/tags: injured Jason Todd (he's okay dw), angst, pining, mentions of Jason's death.

A/N: sooo.... i guess i'm a dc girlie now. just a reminder that every character i write will always be 18+!!! this is probably canon divergent but we make our own canon.

If you like this fic and want to see more, please let me know through reblogs ♡

the divider

"Can't you enter my apartment like a normal person?"

"You know who you're talking to, right?"

"You're getting blood on my carpet, Todd."

It doesn't really matter. He'll come back and scrub it out as soon as his ribs are whole. And fuck if he's not good at getting blood out of surfaces. Jason Todd ought to start a housekeeping column. 

You catch his limp as he climbs over the windowsill. It almost topples him, but he gets to the couch before it does. He doesn't make a sound. 

That had freaked you out the first few times he'd stumbled through your window. Once, he came with part of a windshield wiper impaled in his shoulder. He'd lain on your couch so still and so quiet, you'd thought Red Hood had croaked in your apartment. Which would not have been a good look for you. Or maybe it would. Depends on who you ask. 

Sometimes you want to tell him to make sounds. To hiss and grunt and complain. To grab your wrist so you'll slow down as you pull thread through flesh. 

But it's not your place to request such a thing. You don't know where you reside in Jason Todd's life, but it's not somewhere where you can request to hear him hurt. 

Outwardly, his injuries aren't bad-looking. He takes off his helmet and tosses it somewhere under the coffee table. You offer a hand to help him lie down on the couch—he doesn't take it. 

"Jesus Christ, Jay." You suck in a sharp breath and peel back his bloody suit. "What'd you do?"

"Took a midnight stroll in the Botanical Gardens. Why, what'd you do?"

You frown, eyebrows pinching in the center of your forehead. Jason's stomach is mottled with purple and red bruises. There's a sticky gash right above his hip. A knife. Or a sword, maybe. Apparently, swords are commonplace in Gotham. 

"How'd they get you?" you ask. 

It's a rule-break. Jason's number one policy: don't ask questions.

You always do. Even when it was new, this… thing between you two, you'd ask. Who were they? Why did they hurt you? Did you hurt them back?

The last one, you always know the answer to. 

"There were, like, ten of them," he says. "Cut me some slack, will ya?" 

He has a cut across his lips. A ringed finger that caught on his skin, you guess. You wonder if he'd wince if you kissed him. If he'd wince at the pain or the kiss itself. If you'd know the difference. 

Rage suddenly cuts through you. It makes your hands careless, cruel; you pull the bandage around his waist too tight. Jason coils up slightly. 

"Jesus—ever heard of bedside manner?" he asks, looking at you through his lashes. 

"Ever heard of not breaking into someone's apartment and making them patch you up?"

"I don't make you," Jason says easily. "You wouldn't do it if you didn't want to."

That only increases your rage. Because he's right. You wouldn't be here if you didn't want to be. You'd have kicked him out four first aid kits ago if you minded. 

You yank down his shirt and pack up the kit. Jason shifts on the couch. A sliver of skin above his waistband is still exposed. You have to turn your head to force your gaze away. 

"No bandaids?" he asks. "All my cuts'll be exposed to the elements."

"You can put them on yourself." 

His cheek could use one. And his eyebrow. You're not in the mood. 

Jason doesn't say anything in response to that. You get up to put the kit back under the sink. 

"Can I crash here?" 

"Do what you want," you say, suddenly exhausted. Like it's you who just went six rounds with Gotham's scumbags.

You peek over the kitchen counter when you hear rustling and the couch springs squeak. Jason leans heavily on the arm of the couch, reaching for the window. You walk over and stand in front of him. 

"What're you doing?" you ask. 

"You want me to go," he says flatly. "So I'm going."

"I didn't say that, I said—"

"I can read between the lines." 

"If you could read between the lines as well as you think you can, we wouldn't be in this situation," you say. 

"What situation?"

You turn your head. "Nothing."

Jason steps towards the window. You block him again. 

"What is the matter with you?" you ask. "You're injured. Lie down."

"I'm not your responsibility," he says, glaring. "I'm leaving."

"No, you're not. And since you're allergic to using the door, you don't have a choice."

Jason's eyebrow rises. "Are you saying you'd physically prevent me from leaving?"

You lift your chin. "If that's what it takes."

"Hm. Can't tell if your confidence is stupid or brave."

"Lie the fuck down, Todd."

His lip curls. "I don't stay where I'm not welcome."

Sometimes you forget how young he is. Not that you're not also young, but, well… you don't feel your youth as acutely as other people your age might. It's something you two have in common. 

Here, in the gritty glow of Gotham, you are reminded that Jason Todd died once. Before he finished school. Before he fell in love. 

Your stomach churns every time you see that Y-shaped scar on his torso, strapped over him like a chain. 

"I didn't say that you're not welcome," you say. 

"Yeah, well, you didn't have to."

He sags against the couch and it occurs to you that he's as exhausted as you feel. 

"Can you just—" You touch his bicep. He winces even though there's no injury there. "Can you just lie down?" 

You stare at each other for another minute. Slowly, Jason lays down. His eyes are alert instead of heavy with sleep. Instantly, you feel guilty for making him think he has to be cautious around you. His hand curls protectively over his stomach. 

"Do you want a blanket?" you ask. 

He squints. "It's August."

"I know, I… I thought maybe the blood loss made you cold." 

"'M fine. Perks of being risen from the dead." 

You watch him get settled for a minute. He shifts his weight to his uninjured side and meets your gaze. His eyes are gray in the weak light. 

"You're tired of me," he says. 

Your head snaps up. "No, I'm not."  

"You are."

"I'm not tired of you, Jay."

You see it. The fear. He thinks this is the last time you'll let him in. He doesn't know you can't lock him out. You won't. 

You get up and go to get the kit from the sink again. Jason follows your movement the whole time. His face scrunches in confusion when you sit in front of the couch and unzip the kit. 

You pull out the tiny red bandaids. You'd bought them as a joke, initially. It had made Jason laugh and that had been reason enough to keep buying them. And then he let you actually put them on.

You peel the adhesive off of one and gently stick it on his cheek. He blinks at you, thick, dark lashes kissing the corners of his eyes. 

"I'm not tired of you," you say softly. 

"I'd be tired of me." 

"You keep this city safe. How could I be tired of Gotham's defender?"

Jason scowls and turns his head into the cushion before you can put the second bandaid.  

"I'm not its defender. The others protect this city a hundred times better. Nightwing does it with a smile on his face."

"I like that you go out there even when it's hard, Jay," you say. 

He doesn't respond. You lean in, so close that you can count the freckles on his neck. 

"Can I finish putting the bandaids on?" you ask. 

"I don't need 'em."

"You do. You need another on your forehead."

"It'll heal fine without it."

Your shoulders bunch like a cat on defense. You grab his cheek (gently, always gently) and his head whips to yours in surprise. 

"Jason Todd, I am not tired of you. I'm tired of the fact that you only come by when you need fixing."

He scowls. "I never asked you to fix me. If you want me to leave, I'll leave."

"I don't want you to leave, I want you to stay!" you burst. 

Jason scoffs. "No, you don’t. I'll overstay my welcome real fast."

"Maybe I care about you on purpose!" you say, voice rising. "Maybe I didn't stumble through a window; maybe I walked through the door and bought the bandaids and learned how to stitch wounds because I wanted to."

He suddenly looks overcome by grief. The agony in his face startles you. 

"I don't know how to use the door anymore," he says quietly. "All I do is stumble through windows."

Your hand slips off of his cheek. Jason closes his eyes; they fly open when you stick the second bandaid above his eyebrow. 

"You can come in any way you want to," you say, face an inch away from his. "As long as you come back to me."

His gaze darts to your mouth. You don't kiss him hard. He breaks anyway.

You avoid the right side of his mouth entirely, not wanting to pull at his cut. Jason shudders into your mouth. You cup his pulse through his neck and it quickens.

His eyes are wet when you pull away. His chest heaves like he's been swinging through the city. 

"I wanna try to use the door," he says. 

You touch the bandaid on his cheek, humming. 

"Then I'll leave it unlocked." 

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagine #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x gender neutral reader #batman fanfiction #dc fanfic #batman imagine #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n

[ddejavvu]

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader

summary: your starbucks order is a little too complicated for aaron to understand.

Aaron, in many ways, acts like a father. He's stern when he notices one of his agents on their phones during a case, he scolds Reid for not getting enough sleep, and he's infinitely grumpy when traffic is poor. It means that when he swings the van into a starbucks drive-thru on your way back to the precinct, you feel like a kid on Christmas.

"Hotch!" You squeal, mouth already watering in anticipation of your favorite drink, "I knew you were my favorite."

He lets a small, amused smile grace his typically stoic features, hands relaxed at the wheel as he maneuvers the van beside the window.

"Hi, what can I get for you today?" The speakers emit a crackly voice, and you're sure the person on the other end can't be over 20.

"One tall dark roast, and-" Aaron recites, then turns to you, "What do you want?"

Aaron's never heard so many words jumbled together before. You spit the name of your drink like it's lyrics to a song, an unintelligible rhythm to them that Aaron is helplessly lost amidst. You must have told him twenty separate terms, stringing them together in a way he could never hope to reproduce. He blinks once, his jaw shifted so that his lips part slightly.

"What?"

You huff out a laugh, "A-"

"Will that be all for you today, sir?"

Tense, realizing you have no time to coach Aaron on your hyperspecific drink, you surge forwards, nimble hands undoing your seatbelt as you lean across Aaron to speak into the receiver.

Out of reflex, your hand falls to his thigh to brace yourself, and the muscles are strong beneath your fingers. You nearly jumble up your own drink order, especially at the way his breath hitches when you practically crawl over his lap in the seat to stick your head towards the window.

Aaron's never been this close to you before. Not like this, not with your hand on his thigh and your ass not far behind. If he were to glance down, which he won't, he could see straight down your top. He won't, though. He wouldn't have a clear enough head for driving if he did.

Aaron didn't catch your drink order before, and he's certainly not able to now, too overwhelmed by the scent of your perfume and the feeling of your palm braced steadily against his thigh. You dig your fingers into the fabric of his dress pants for stability and he hopes you can't feel the way his slacks tighten ever-so-slightly, cursing himself for chubbing up like a horny teen.

"Okay," The employee hums, furiously pressing buttons on the computer to complete your order, "Is that all for you folks?"

"That's it," You hum cheerily, "Thank you!"

"$11.87,", the voice comes back, not nearly as jovial as you.

You unstick yourself from Aaron's thigh, knee aching from where it had been balanced on the center console. You send him a sheepish smile when your faces are only inches away, lips plumping as they curl.

"Sorry," You breathe, settling back in your seat so that Aaron can pull up to the next window, "I know it's complicated. I didn't think to prep you. I panicked."

"It's alright," He manages to find his voice, using every ounce of strength in his body to fight against the speechlessness that threatens to overtake him. He hands his card to the woman at the window, and sees you already reaching for your wallet to pay him back. He won't let you.

He pulls up to the next window and clears the cupholder of someone's old plastic water bottle, "I don't even think Garcia has that long of an order. And she's notorious for trying pinterest brews."

"It's complicated, but it's good," You gush, happily taking the drink from him when he's handed it by the man in the window. Aaron's surprised they managed to concoct yours in under twenty minutes. Your lipstick leaves a prim stain on the white lid, and you hum in pleasure, "Ooh, they made it just right."

Aaron sips at his own bitter roast, using one hand to steer as he fumbles to fit his drink in the small cupholder. He's got his eyes on the road, and his hands occupied, so he's a little frazzled when the rim of your drink pops into sight beside his face.

"Wanna try some?"

"That's okay, my hands are full." He hums, seriously considering just crashing the car to have a hand to take your drink with. He can't believe he's missing the opportunity to fit his lips over residue of your own, press his mouth to that pretty pink kiss mark you'd left in your wake.

"It's alright, here." You hold the drink to his lips, "I got it."

Aaron steals a glance at the cup as he fits his mouth around the spout, spending as much time as he can staring at your lipstick on the rim before looking back up at the road. You tilt the cup towards him, and the drink floods his mouth, excessively sweet and creamy.

He nods and you lower the cup again, careful not to spill any on his neat, white dress shirt. He hums at the taste, hoping you share a similar one, "That's good. Very sweet."

"Mhm." You agree, raising the drink to your own lips again. Aaron feels a sheen of grainy residue on his lips, and he's hoping it's not the stain of your lipstick, just the feeling of it.

He's unlucky.

"Oh, Hotch," You laugh, "There's lipstick on your face. Hang on," You lean over, smearing your thumb against the very corner of his mouth, "There. Sorry," You're sheepish as you settle back into your seat, "The perks of sharing drinks, I guess."

Aaron thinks he'll remember the feeling of your hand pressed against his face for eternity, and he'd be willing to suck down a thousand cups of liquid sugar just to feel it again.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction