#Carpet fitting services

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

something i noticed

A while back, I wrote this analysis reviewing how unfair the magic education system is in Twisted Wonderland. I would recommend reading that before this post, as it provides tons of context for what I’m about to talk about and add onto the discussion.

In 2-6 of the Tapis Rouge event, Vil has stylists from Luxe, a high end fashion brand, dress up Azul, Jamil, and Ace to be a part of his red carpet entourage. Once the boys come out in their new threads and makeup, Jamil and Azul, two individuals who are meticulous about details, provide some telling commentary.

According to those two, the team of stylists that helped them were mages. Azul further remarks that they were quite skilled mages and that having this kind of talent indicates a “first class brand store”. Their hair and makeup is also suggested to be done via magic, though this service is not normally performed for customers. Previously, we knew that skincare can be infused with magic (Vil does so with his own) and that magic can be used to style one’s hair (Jamil tells us in his Birthday Boy vignettes that he does his intricate hair with magic and used to take far longer with it when he lacked the precision). Idia states in book 6 that Jamil had no formal magic training before NRC, so that means Jamil was self-taught in his hair-handling magic.

… Okay but 😭 WHAT DOES THIS IMPLY ABOUT MAGIC AND CLASS??? Is it just a coincidence that the teams of stylists who staff a high class store are ALL mages? Surely not, given how uncommon mages are in the general population. The store (or maybe the brand itself?) must be going out of its way to hire them because I guess being dressed with magic is a more “luxurious” experience than the normal way. We can also guess from Azul and Jamil’s accounts that the degree of magic these staffers use requires significant skill and precision, which either means they need formal instruction or lots of practice on their own. Neither option is afforded to people with naturally low or no magic reserves at all 💀 meaning jobs like this are gated to mages only.

Now, this doesn’t inherently mean the rich and famous people who frequent these stores are also all mages (Kalim’s dad and Vil’s dad are two non-mages who are extremely wealthy and influential); the majority of them must still be regular people since humans seem to be the majority, and 90% of humans are non-mages. It also doesn’t guarantee that the Luxe stylists are paid more than a non-Luxe stylist (although I do think this is possible for a prestige brand, especially if we factor in commissions on sales).

What’s sticking out to me here is that there exists an association between magic and luxury. The reverse also appears to have some truth based on what little other lore we have; Ruggie states that there are not a lot of mages from his hometown, which could imply a history of non-mages being driven into poorer communities. It all fits together a little too well to seem coincidental… but obviously, Ruggie’s hometown is just one place and could be an outlier rather than the exemplar. We know that most non-mages must live an average lifestyle, not the extremes that Ruggie has experienced. Still, the claim that magic is typically associated with the upper class holds and it continues to be perpetuated in the lore.

Anyway, Fellow and Rollo were right—

[peachsukii]

Okay I’m back I’m sorry your writing is like cocaine to me idk you’re awesome-

Bakugou x reader where they’re on a mission and it involves a teams of heroes to dress up like Dynamight to confuse the enemy??? Just like Bakugou’s reaction to seeing his girlfriend decked out in his gear like 😭😭😭

but like picture like reader trying to fit Bakugou into a version of her costume too-

Ohkay I’m going even further now- Bakugou and reader wearing formal wear modeled after each other at a Hero’s gala to debut their relationship to the world???? I can just imagine after the mission they just really like wearing each other’s stuff-

Anyways you’re amazing have an amazing day!!

I’m so so sorry this took me so long to get to! You’re the sweetest!! 🥰 thank you so much for rec and coming back! I’ve enjoyed the ideas you’ve suggested so much and hope you like this one. 💖✨

Substitute Gear

『 ♡』  k.bakugo x fem!reader ꒰ pro-hero au | age 24 | lovers (bf/gf) ꒱ ⇢ bakugo and reader are joking around in their apartment one night when they decide to try on each others costumes! this leads to a fun inspiration for the upcoming hero gala as their agencies recommend for them to reveal their relationship officially. Why not do it in style?

꒰ tags & warnings ꒱ no cw minus cursing | fun & fluffy ꒰ cross posted to ao3 | wc; ~1.1k ꒱ -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist

“Ugh, what an ugly shift,” you complain as you’re walking through the front door of your apartment. You’re kicking off your dirty boots in the entryway when Katsuki comes to greet you.

“Long day?” He asks, analyzing how filthy your hero suit is. It doesn’t stop him from giving you a light peck on the lips to welcome you home.

“More like what didn’t happen today. A kid threw up on me, and when I washed that off, some asshole bled all over me when I cuffed him! To top it all off, I tripped and fell into the mud while in pursuit of a robbery. Head first!”

As you’re rattling off the laundry list of shitty things that happened during the day, Katsuki’s silently instructing you to take the suit off. He spins you around, unzipping the neck piece and carefully removing all of your components and accessories.

“I broke my damn helmet in that fall,” you groan, wiping dried dirt from your cheek.

“Better than your head, dumbass,” Katsuki counters. “Ya got extras, no use cryin’ over one of ‘em.”

You shimmy the suit off of your shoulders and pull out of the material one limb at a time.

“You’d think as heroes, there’d be a professional laundry service or something,” you complain, letting your suit crumple on the floor. It comically puffs out a dried cloud of grime.

Katsuki stifles a laugh. “Weird way of sayin’ I do all your laundry. Get your ass in the shower, you reek.” He smacks your barely-covered ass to get you moving, continuing to snicker to himself as you waddle down the hallway.

───

After a long and hot shower, you emerge from the bathroom with a dramatic haze of steam following you.

“Ya done yet, peach? Dinners done,” Katsuki calls from the kitchen, dishes clattering as he’s prepping plates for the two of you. You scamper down the hall to meet him in the kitchen, a delicious aroma filling your senses when you approach the stove. He hands you one of the plates of beef and peppers stacked high on a bed of rice.

“Mmm, you even made me extra peppers!” You chirp, flashing him a cheesy smile. He grins in response and slips past you to sit on the couch.

The news channel is droning in the background during dinner, the news anchors excitedly discussing the upcoming annual Hero Gala - the glitz and glamour side of it, anyways. The Gala itself is an enormous event to celebrate Japan’s hero society and to announce the year’s hero ranking; however, everyone treats it as one extravagant event, red carpet and all.

“I’ve never been to the gala before,” you say before taking another mouthful of rice. “I never qualified to attend until this year. I’m kinda nervous to be…debuting us, if I’m being honest.”

Your agencies had caught wind of your relationship - rather, Katsuki’s assistant accidentally caught you two kissing in his office - and wanted to use you as an opportunity to introduce the “new hottest hero couple.” Agencies care about appearances and tabloid drama just as much as actual hero work. What's hotter than a top hero dating a lower - much lower - ranked hero?

The gala is in two weeks and the two of you haven't settled on what to do about it.

“Th’ agencies wanting to use us as an attention grab is fuckin’ stupid," Katsuki mumbles, brows scrunched in frustration. "Who gives a shit who we're dating? Doesn't affect my ability ta do my job."

He had a point, of course, but that didn't make you any less nervous about it. You were being pressured to have an extremely public date and let "fans" know that Dynamight was off the market. The thought of fans metaphorically bashing your head in wasn't ideal, but whatever gets "ratings," right?

"We might as well just show up in each others' costumes," you joke, rolling your eyes as the news anchor shifts topics to the latest update on another nonsense story.

"That's...not a bad idea!" He shouts, putting his plate on the coffee table and excitedly jogging down the hall to the bedroom. "Where's your backup suit?"

"In the closet, why? There's no way your muscular ass is getting in that tight suit."

"No, dumbass! C'mere!"

You place your plate next to his and get up from the couch, waltzing to the bedroom to see what he's on about. Both your hero suit and his are laying on the bed next to each other.

"What if we swapped colors?" He asked, pointing to the suit designs. "You wear mine and I wear yours. That'll give the media somethin' to yap about."

That's actually...a brilliant idea! The media would absolutely eat up the "bad boy" Dynamight strutting into the gala with his partner's color pallet, especially because your colors were pinks and purples.

You raise an eyebrow to him, smirking as you begin to imagine him in a sharp pink and purple suit. "You do look good in pink, the few times you've worn it."

Katsuki cackles and winks at you. "Course I do, I make anythin' look good."

He immediately calls his agency to request the garments - they agreed wholeheartedly and offered to fund both outfits.

───

The night of the gala has finally arrived! There are plenty of news crews from all channels present, huddled around the main red carpet entrance. The scene is bedazzled with flashing camera lights, the shutter sounds of multiple cameras capturing photos in tandem. Your complimentary custom outfits are pristine and Katsuki's hand is in yours as the limo pulls up to the gateway, giving you a soft squeeze to gather your attention.

"It'll be fine, sweets. Jus' follow my lead, 'kay?"

You nod while taking a deep breath to calm your nerves. "Thanks babe."

The limo attendant outside skips to the door, opening it for the two of you and ushering you to the entrance. You're both standing in line behind other heroes awaiting their turn to enter the building, attention already building in your direction. A few minutes go by before one of the hosts motions for the two of you to proceed to the entrance.

Your heart is racing, threatening to burst right through your ribcage as the hot spotlights are covering the two of you. Cameras are flashing rapidly, waves of unintelligible shouting invading your senses - "Dynamight! Over here, look this way!" "Just one this way, you two!" "To the left, please!"

Katsuki's jaw is tense as his eyes are roaming around to satisfy multiple camera men, the resting glare he normally sports on patrol adoring his features. Your attempting to keep a soft smile, posing and waving gently. Suddenly, you're tugged into Katsuki's side, his hand leaving yours and wrapping around your waist, pulling you into his personal space. He spins you to face him, cupping your chin and dipping you backwards as his lips grace your own, holding you in place.

The world around explodes with surprise, the peanut gallery clamoring with questions about the two of you - "Are you two an item?" "Oh! A higher ranked hero and a brand new one!" "What a scandalous amount of PDA!"

When you part, he pulls you back to his side and keeps his hand on your waist while the two of you continue into the gala together. The paparazzi outside are tailing the two of you as they're stopped at the door, shouting for answers as he flips them off over his head.

"Told ya it'd be fine. Now let's fuckin' eat and enjoy the damn night."

thanks again for the suggestion @queenpiranhadon ! ✨

[slamminslamminmcgill]

joel’s pussy eating game is RIDICULOUS!!!!! he claims to be into servicing ppl and he is but…. it’s more in service of himself tbh bc of how selfish and hungry he is

warning: squirting, oral, rimming

anatomical terms: cunt/pussy, clit/t-dick

he’ll start slow to ease you into it. long, broad strokes of his flattened tongue up your slit. wet kisses dotting your clit. lots of spit to get you nice and wet for his tongue to just glide along your cunt however which way he sees fit.

and once your own juices start to flow, loosening you up for him, it’s blood to a shark. one drop hits his tongue and he’s GONE.

“fuckin’ christ, you taste good. yeah… yeah, i need more of that.”

joel smushes his face into your pussy, his stubble prickling your hypersensitive skin, and he fucking LATCHES his mouth on your clit, bouncing his lips off your sodden flesh as he sucks you off. soon you’re leaking enough that he can slide two fingers into you with ease. he curls them up into your g-spot and keeps them there, pushing your button over and over to get you to burst.

and may god help you if you squirt.

it splashes against his face and you hear a deep, rumbling, feral growl. it’s the sexiest sound you’ve ever heard from a man. one that reminds you of our basest urges, that we are naught but beasts at heart. horny fucking beasts possessed by pheromones and need.

“fuck yeah, c’mon. c’mon, gimme another.” he demands, starting his fingers right back up again, right into the swollen trigger point that has you gushing over and over. a firm hand cuts through the typhoon with a loud-

(SMACK)

on the meat of your ass.

“sit on my face. i wanna drink you.”

you peel yourself off his leather couch, knees buckling like a newborn fawn as you stand, and hobble over to where he’s laying on the carpet. he’s frantic, aggressive and repetitive in his orders.

“get over here... get over here, boy... get over here…”

your knees flank his head, facing his legs, and you lower yourself down until your pussy bumps his nose. he starts licking right away. you look down and his cock is throbbing, an angry shade of red. being that he’s been so generous to you, you see fit to return the favor. you lean down and take his cock in your hands, though you barely get to kiss it before joel intervenes.

“nope.”

he hooks his arms under your armpits, grabs you by the shoulders, and YANKS you backwards, pulling your face away from his cock and holding your back upright.

“nuh uh. fuck my face. i want you to use me. don’ worry ‘bout my cock, sweetheart, just fuck my face.”

you hesitantly hump his face, tiny jerks of your hips to get used to the feeling and get a rhythm down. as you grow accustomed to it, your soaked cunt easily glides across his face, your swollen t-dick bumps his lips and he sucks it in his mouth. his tongue swipes between your pussy and ass, your juices dripping down his cheeks.

eventually, you squirt again, just a tiny bit.

but it’s not enough.

“give it to me.” joel barks, and shoves his fingers back in for some not-so-gentle encouragement. “c’mon, kid, give it to me. squirt down my fuckin’ throat, c’mon. lemme drink you. gimme somethin’ sweet to drink, baby boy.”

you give him exactly what he wants, squirting right into his mouth in hot jets. his growl vibrates your entire cunt and he slurps it all up.

when it gets to be too much, you roll off him and onto the floor. the two of you lay side by side, gasping for air. his face is dripping, his wet hair resting on an incriminating wet spot on the carpet. you’re staring at the ceiling as it swirls, creating beautiful constellations in combination with the stars in your vision. joel reaches out and tugs you close to him. his overworked lips smooch your forehead, and he says,

“good boy. hottest thing i’ve ever seen in my fuckin’ life.”

[blogport]

EPOXYSHİNE - DRAGON+ (3)

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[unboundprompts]

Idk if you’ve done this yet but ways to describe a dark/scary motel/house? Something straight out of a paranormal horror story to be precise.

Thank you!! 🫶🏼

I love love love horror. If you ever want more horror prompts please let me know :)

Descriptions of Haunted Locations

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

The doors of the motel were identical, nothing differentiating them besides the rusted numbers. They were dirty, as if they had never been cleaned, and the paint had been chipped off over time. Some of the doors looked like they were covered in claw marks-- fingernails digging into the old paint in chilling, desperate lines.

The house was old. It looked like it hadn't been cared for in decades. The grass in the yard was up to her knees and ivy leaves grew on the exteriors of the house and rooted in the gutters. The windows were boarded up, making it look abandoned. The only way to glimpse the inside of the house was through the attic window.

The entry way was filled with dust. It lingered in the air and on every surface. He glanced up at the antique chandelier hanging high overhead, seeing the dirt and grime that dirtied the glass crystals. He tried the light switch, flicking it up and down but to no avail. When he turned on his phone's flashlight, and shone it through the dusty air, a shadow passed in front of him, darting through the entry way and up the stairs.

The motel room was small, the bed made with a comforter that looked like it came from their great-grandmother's house. It was a dirty floral pattern, with yellow pillows that were probably once white. The carpet was stained. Either with blood or dark red wine, they weren't sure. And the window that looked out onto the walkway was covered in fingerprints.

Taxidermy. The lobby of the motel was filled with horrible dead animals mounted to walls and displayed in the corners. She was near certain that their eyes would move. As she checked in, the taxidermy squirrel that sat on the desk stared at her with it's teeth bared.

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider buying me a coffee! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi! Become a member to receive exclusive content, early access, and prioritized writing prompt requests.

[silkscream]

CHAPTER 12: LOOKING FOR THE NEW WORLD

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader

He was like a child despite being a man, one much bigger and stronger than you. Infinitely powerful, yet he could reduce himself into a creature of need so intensely that he’s convinced you that your touch is the only remedy.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: explicit content (18+ mdni) , unprotected sex, dubcon, oral sex, mentions of depression, angst, character death

ੈ✩ wc: 5k

ੈ✩ a/n: who else is sick of these two. i sure am

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

January, 2011

There’s a black cat that likes to hang out around your apartment. It’s small, a bit on the thinner side, with striking amber eyes. It reminds you of someone. 

It nuzzles against your legs now as you sit on the stoop, nursing your third cigarette of the night. Tobacco for dinner and some leftover hot and sour soup from the last time Shoko forced you to get takeout with her.

“You gotta stop with those,” she had muttered when you had finished eating, excusing yourself for a cigarette despite the snow. “You’re gonna fuck up your lungs at this rate.”

“How extremely hypocritical of you.”

“The nicotine makes you more anxious than before,” she laughed. “And I want you alive in this lifetime.”

You’d smiled weakly in response. Allowed yourself one cigarette before bed and another that was shared with her before she left for Tokyo again.

Your stomach rumbles again at the thought of real dinner. The cat sniffing you meows. 

“You’re hungry, too, huh?”

As if it understands you, it mewls. 

You ash your cigarette and scoop it up in your arms as you walk to the konbini for cat food and multiple cups of ramen. Despite the odd looks you get around the store, no one bothers you or reprimands you for having a little fur ball attached to your shoulder. 

The cat takes a liking to your apartment, immediately splaying itself on your carpet. You’d have to vacuum later if you were going to house it. Get a litter box, too. It was probably all against your lease, but it had been a long time since you had taken care of anyone other than yourself, and you were still lacking in that department ever since the previous autumn.

“Sorry about this,” you mutter as you pick up the cat, lifting it to the light. “Ah. A boy.”

The cat meows, as if agreeing. You decide to call him Jiji after the black cat in Kiki’s Delivery Service. A fitting resemblance. There’s an annoying, familiar voice in your head that tells you it’s a bit cliche.

The poor thing walks with a limp you don’t remember him having. There’s a deep cut on one of his back legs, probably left over from a stray dog that bit too hard. The flesh heals quickly with the slight of your hand.

He treats the place like a personal jungle, which is saying something considering how bare it is. You make yourself some subpar ramen, attempting to turn it into stir-fry with the puny vegetables in your fridge. It was something warm, at least. It goes nicely with the Asahi you bought. You’re allowing yourself maybe half of the six-pack tonight. Any more and you’d be inviting yourself to wade in a pool of pity.

You stare at the mini calendar on your fridge. The third of February is circled, taunting you. It wasn’t like you’d ever forget, but you marked it anyway as if to punish yourself. 

You jump when the doorbell rings. It can’t be Shoko. She’d left for Tokyo days before, and there was no reason for her to be back so soon. Utahime wasn’t the type to show up unannounced. 

For fuck’s sake, it couldn’t be. 

You didn’t even tell him where your new place was. The knocks on the door turn to a rhythmic pounding you recognize immediately and it makes you want to start digging your own hole. Begrudgingly, you open the door.

“Took you long enough,” he mutters, the curl of a lip hinting at a teasing smile. There’s barely enough time for you to process a response back because of how quickly he walks in. 

“How did you know where I lived?”

Satoru grins, teeth and all. Annoyingly bright and shark-spiked, hair covered in light snow. 

“I have my ways, baby.”

“You need to leave.”

Jiji cowers curiously by the foot of the couch, blinking at the new stranger. Satoru looks at you quizzically.

“Replaced me already?”

“Yes.” 

He ignores you and plops down the paper bags he was carrying on the kitchen counter, like he’s done it a million times before. A bottle of rose, packaged daifuku. A carton of strawberries. For some reason, nearly everything in the grocery bag is pink.

“Got you your favorites.”

“Satoru, these are your favorites.”

“Ours, then,” he huffs childishly, pouting. “I was in town for a mission. Thought you would want to, uh, do something for his birthday.”

His last sentence is rushed like it’s an afterthought, but it’s the most damning one. You can’t help the rage in your veins when he says it. As if Suguru is dead or missing instead of flourishing on his own path. Rot turned to bloom.

While you glare at him, his expression is neutral, bordering on sheepish.

“You didn’t answer any of my calls or texts, so.”

“Because I didn’t want to talk to you,” you say bluntly.

He sighs. “You can’t ignore me, forever, y’know.”

Something bitter crawls up the cavern of your chest at the same time something heats up. It wasn’t fair, the way he looked at you all pouty. It made you feel like you did when you were merely the maid’s daughter, wanting to appease him in any way you could. You feel slightly nauseous despite your stomach feeling terribly empty. 

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Have you talked to him?”

“Of course not,” he scoffs.

The two of you stare at each other in silence for a bit before you clear your throat. 

“Thanks for the groceries, but you can take them back to your hotel or whatever. You can’t stay here.”

“I’m not trying to crash at your apartment, anyway.”

“Then what are you trying to do, Satoru?”

“Seduce you, I suppose,” he mutters. “I’m sure the hotel mattress I have would be better for your back. You can—”

“No.”

“Fine. Have dessert with me. A glass of wine. I just want to be with you.”

You curse yourself. Satoru is always tempting just by being himself, but you did really like the brand of wine he brought. Right now, you need a drink more than anything else. 

Watching reality TV with Satoru is not how you expect to spend your night. The silence is uncomfortable, nearly suffocating. It’s not difficult to notice how much he wants to touch you, his fingers twitching on the fabric of your couch. 

“Where’d this fucker come from?” He nods his head towards Jiji, who has jumped onto your left shoulder. You can sense jealousy in his tone, funnily enough.

“Don’t call him that,” you scold, rolling your eyes. “He was a stray. Got bitten by something so I healed him up.”

“How lucky.”

“Uh huh.”

Satoru clears his throat and thumbs around the rim of his wine glass. Fidgety. He leans closer to you, petting Jiji as an excuse. 

“How’s the… independent study? Or whatever.”

“It’s good. I work at the greenhouse every other day.”

He nods slowly and pours you both another glass. It doesn’t take long for you both to finish the bottle. His cheeks are as pink as the daifuku, half-eaten and abandoned on a plate in front of him. You’ve graduated to playful quips despite your mostly guarded demeanor, feet hoisted on his lap as he rubs them absentmindedly. 

“You should probably get back to your hotel.”

“Huh?”

You look at him. Satoru’s gaze flickers in between mischief and reverence. He’s also clearly not paying attention to what you’re saying considering his eyes are fixed on your bare shoulder. 

“It’s late,” you sigh.

“Not that late,” he scoffs. “S’not even ten.”

“I have a lab early tomorrow,” you lie.

“...Alright. Wanna finish this for me, then?” He holds out the last half of the mochi and feeds it to you. He blushes slightly. You still open your mouth for him without having him to ask. 

“It’s good.”

He nods. Leans over to wipe a bit of red bean paste off the corner of your mouth with his thumb. His eyes lower onto your lips as he sighs, right before he kisses you.

You let him. 

He feels the same as he always does. It’s been almost two months since you’d touched him — the last time being inside a karaoke bar bathroom an hour after Shoko had convinced you to come out for Satoru’s birthday. 

You had done so, unwillingingly, still not over the wound of being left and still angry with Satoru. Even so, it was still easy for him to make your knees weak, leading you into a random stall in the men’s bathroom while Shoko and Utahime forced Nanami to sing an 80s ballad. 

It was your first time properly spending time with the underclassman, so it embarrassed you immensely to walk out with your lipstick smudged. You remember overhearing Nanami ask Utahime about you and Satoru, to which she simply laughed in pity.

They’re on and off?

Divorced right now, Shoko had quipped.

Gojo was married to her?!

Fuck no. He wishes.

“Sato—” you mumble into his mouth.

He shuts you up with his tongue against yours, his hand cupping your chin. You knew he would get you a little tipsy and probably make a move, and you knew full well that you would let him. He chased you easily even when he could have anyone he wanted. 

His movements are sloppy and languid. Drunk, perhaps — he was a lightweight through and through. He groans lightly at the taste of you, how sweet you are like always. His other hand moves to your nape, clutching the back of your head to rest on the couch cushion with him hovering over you. Already, he was slotting his knee in between your legs. 

Satoru could already feel his insides stir at the thought of being inside you again. It had been too fucking long. He was sure that his dick would probably melt once you let him in. 

When you feel his hand underneath your sweater, you break the kiss. He sees it as an interruption rather than an end as he chases you, face leaning in again. He was pretty when he was drunk on you, eyes half-lidded like that. It was infuriating. 

It takes you a slight push and a turning of the head for him to realize that you don’t want him. 

“Why are you—”

“We can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I– I don’t want to.”

His face falls. You can’t stand it, how he looks like a kicked puppy. You refuse to fall for it.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come back with me?” he tries. “To the hotel?”

You’d slap him if you could. Your hands don’t move an inch. They only tremble.

“I said no. I’m sorry—” Why are you apologizing? “I have to get to bed.”

He blinks at you, dejected. For once, he doesn’t beg. Doesn’t give you a smartass reply. He stands and runs his fingers through his hair. 

“Okay,” he sighs. He wants to reach out and touch you, but he doesn’t. “Sweet dreams, Twigs.”

June, 2010

There’s a funeral before you leave for Kyoto. It’s the first time you deal with the corpse of a classmate.

You’d watched Shoko work in the morgue meticulously, wrapping the body in plastic. You knew she was probably used to the smell of death by now. At that moment, you were both numb to it.

“You don’t have to stay here, Nanami-kun,” you told your junior softly. He’d been sitting next to you in a plastic folding chair with a warm towel over his eyes for nearly half an hour, saying nothing.

“It’s fine. Not like they’d dare to assign me another mission right away.”

You glance at Nanami now, dressed in all black, and his face looks even more tired than it was under the morgue fluorescents. Sallow and pale, his complexion matching Suguru’s. 

You were all much too young to go to so many funerals.

The smell of death still lingers at the ceremony, too. It must be psychosomatic, the way the suffocating temple air makes your gut twist into itself. Yu Haibara’s smiling portrait stares back at you. 

You’d never experienced anything like this before. You knew the cost of being a jujutsu sorcerer, the horror of nearly losing Satoru the subject of your nightmares. It was different for it to be real, to pick up the bones of a boy whose light shone so brightly with chopsticks. 

Suguru looks older than he is. You noticed lately that the circles under his eyes have gotten worse, sometimes like a bruised purple in the shadows of his room. He didn’t leave it often, never opened his blinds despite it being summer. Morose as he is, he still looks beautiful.

You sit in between him and Satoru during the service. You shed no tears. No one does—the grief is all-consuming, wrangling everyone by the throat. You’re sure your fellow classmates are feeling numbness more than anything. 

You crawl into Suguru’s bed that night. He almost doesn’t acknowledge you, save for the movement of his arm over your middle when you nestle into his chest. His hair is still slightly damp from the shower he took. He hadn’t bothered to put his clothes back on.

“You okay?” you whisper. “We missed you at dinner.”

“Migraines,” he mumbles. He’s been getting a lot of them lately. That or nausea. Another thing that was psychosomatic—Suguru could barely eat lately because of the nausea. Even when he eats enough, it’s there, as if the curses he swallows are making a cesspool of his gut. 

He blames it all on heat fatigue, but you know better. Even with his model-like cheekbones, his face is starting to look a little thinner. 

“Did you take anything for it?”

“Yeah,” he lies. He might’ve taken some gas station gummy just so he could pass out and maybe not wake up for twelve hours before you came in. 

You hum softly, threading your fingers through his damp hair. It’s too wet for him to be resting on his pillow. You want to comb it for him, dry him with the towel like a beloved pet. He breathes shallowly as he revels in the feeling of your fingers across his scalp.

“Have you been drinking enough water?”

“Christ. Yes.”

Suguru immediately regrets his sharp tone the minute he sees your eyes flicker with meekness. He sighs, cradling you closer.

“Sorry. I’m just… fucking tired.”

“Yeah, me too.” There’s an awkward silence. 

“God,” you mumble, almost to yourself. “What happened was horrible.”

“Ha. That’s reality. Could be any of us tomorrow, or the next day.”

It’s an awful thing to say, but you know he’s right. He doesn’t say it to be spiteful or insensitive, but his words sting nonetheless. It’s the air of bitterness you can sense from the lilt of his tongue. You know it isn’t directed at you, but it still feels uncomfortable when you’re trying to be affectionate with him. 

He looks at the sadness in your eyes and makes an attempt to change the subject. “Do you wanna… watch a movie or something?”

“I should probably go to bed soon. I have an early mission tomorrow.”

“Seriously? After what just happened?”

“I don’t really have a say in what gets assigned to me,” you say sheepishly. 

“We all keep throwing ourselves back into work. The very work that gets our friends killed,” Suguru scoffs. “And for what? For a bunch of weaklings? Fuck.”

You pinch your brows together. “Suguru–”

“They’re the ones making the curses, anyway,” he mutters. “It’s fucking ironic that we have to protect the weak but we’re the ones who are never protected. Always martyred, instead.”

“The weak?”

“Non-sorcerers. Us sorcerers exist to protect the weak—it’s bullshit, sometimes.”

“You sound like Satoru.”

He lets out a bitter laugh at that. “So I’ve really gone off the deep end, huh?”

“No,” you sigh, caressing his jaw. “We’re all just grieving. I’ve been feeling a little crazy, too.”

He looks at you earnestly, licks his lips. “Kyoto will be nice.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “I suppose it will be nice.”

“Don’t you get sick of it all?”

“Of being a sorcerer?”

Everything, he wants to scream.

“I don’t know. It’s the first thing I’ve done for myself. I mean, for others, too—that’s the whole thing—but it means more. Like I’m… worth something.”

“You’re worth a lot more than that. You always have been.”

There’s a hint of desperation in his voice, as if he’s also telling himself the same thing. You’re not exactly sure what he means. You like being useful, you’ve learned to like having to perfect your technique. You know you will never be as strong as Satoru or Suguru. You don’t know that Suguru is metamorphosing into something beyond his control, ever since he saw a bullet go through a girl’s skull.

His words stick with you as you fall asleep in his bed.  

You’re worth more.

September, 2010

You feel like you’re about to vomit. Blood trickles down Satoru’s palm, the sharp pin of the button in his hand still in his unfurling fist. 

“What?”

“Don’t make me say it again,” Yaga-Sensei grimaces. “Suguru fled after killing everyone in the village.”

You can’t look anyone in the eye. You only stare at the blood on Satoru’s palm, thinking of his hands, of Suguru’s. Hands that were soft around your neck, rough on your waist and down the planes of your thighs. Hands that killed 112 people in a small village. 

When you couldn’t call him, you took the bullet train to Tokyo immediately. You thought he’d gone missing, ran away, anything but the reality of the situation. Suguru could be sharp-tongued, had rigid edges, but he was always kind. He believed in fairness above all—it was what you admired most about him. Even when he could be cruel, he could be kind.

You didn’t think he could be cruel enough to commit a mass murder in cold blood. You feel the hallway spinning, nausea crawling up your sternum and up to your head. Suguru had killed a village, and he’s left you and Satoru, and he didn’t even say goodbye.

You really need to lay down before you throw up. 

Yaga cancels your missions, so you have nothing to distract you. Nothing to do with your hands except curl your fingers around the cool bed sheet beneath you. For the next day, you stay like this — twisted inside yourself, knees tucked to your chest. Satoru is there, too, and for the first time in his life, he has nothing to say. This is a kind of grief that neither of you knows how to deal with.

“Satoru,” you whisper. “We should eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You said you haven’t eaten since this morning,” you frown.

He shrugs. He was fine with laying in bed with you, suspended in the thick tension of unspoken words. Satoru was often explosive when he was angry, but he didn’t have the energy to do anything about Suguru’s betrayal. Not unless he could find him on his own, but at this rate, Suguru could be out of the city already. 

He’s slightly watery-eyed. Something is dormant inside of him and you’re waiting for it to snap, show its teeth. You are ready to be the thing in between his canines.

He takes you eventually. Wakes you in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, prompted by nightmares of fire and bloodshed and Suguru’s glare. Satoru claws at you in his sleep until you’re holding his face and shaking him, telling him to breathe slowly. 

His breathing only gets faster. The hole that Suguru leaves inside of him needs to be filled. 

And then, your hair is in between his fists, your flesh in between his teeth. He has to take you apart so you’re like him, but you know that you had fallen apart the moment Suguru’s phone number failed when you tried to call him. 

“Satoru,” you whine. “Slow down.”

“Can’t,” he mutters, his voice rough as he gropes you in the dark. “Fuck, sorry. Need you. Missed you.”

With the way he manhandles you, you might think he’s sleepwalking. His eyes are wide open, midnight blue in the darkness. He whines when you turn away from him. 

“Please,” he chokes out. “Need it.”

You’d seen him like this before. Desperate, begging, frantic—usually because he was upset or angry. He would never tell you the details of what was in his head, only that he absolutely needed you, needed your body to satiate him. Your body was a temple for him to confess and repent in, yet it hollowed you out as if you were the one sinning.

“Shhh,” you coo, nervous. “It’s alright.”

He was like a child despite being a man, one much bigger and stronger than you. Infinitely powerful, yet he could reduce himself into a creature of need so intensely that he’s convinced you that your touch is the only remedy. 

You wrap your arms around him and he intertwines your legs together. You can feel his cock against your stomach. His face is buried in your neck, teeth nipping your collarbone. You always let him take all of you when he’s like this, never minding the feeling of being stretched thin, a taut sinew inside a predator’s mouth. You would be the balm to his chaos, always.

He lets out a heavy breath when he moves your panties to the side and his tip catches on your entrance. It’s a sound of relief, of quenched thirst. You gasp when he fits himself all the way inside you. Your body feels like a geyser ready to erupt.

He’s done this before after nightmares, after tough missions. Sometimes you would be asleep —you told him you didn’t care, and usually, you don’t. To be wanted by Satoru felt like a blessing even when it hurt like a curse.

You were sick on each other. 

His movements are hurried, kissing your neck sloppily as he ruts against you. He pushes inside and begins with quick thrusts. A full nest inside of you, your walls melting. He squeezes you tightly, his arms almost painfully clutching your waist as if he needed you tethered to him, skin sticking to skin. 

You aren’t wet enough for you to cum just yet. It was aching in you a little bit, the deepness of his cock inside you.

“S-Satoru,” you whine. “Hurts.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll make it up — fuck — make it up to you.”

He pulls out of you and throws you against the bed, holding your legs down and parted for his mouth. He eats you like a meal, his mouth sucking on your clit brutally enough for you to become overwhelmed. He sighs as he feels you gush around his fingers. 

“Close,” you gasp. “Fuck me.”

He turns you over and humps in between your legs, slipping in and holding you down. His weight on you is almost comforting. Your head feels like it’s underwater. 

“You can take it,” he hums. He kisses your nape, bites at your shoulder. If he wasn’t so delirious about it, needing you as much as he does, he would take his time. Write his name into your skin with love bruises.

His cock had to be stirring your insides together, your cunt like whipped butter. He groans when you clench around him. He knows how close you are, despite being half-asleep, half-feral. He’s had you memorized. 

It was too hot for him to be on you like this, his body too heavy. You come at the same time, both of your voices blending together into a choked whimper. Your hair sticks to your neck with sweat.

“Y’feel so good,” Satoru mutters. “All the time.”

He gets up to piss eventually, otherwise he probably would’ve fallen asleep inside you. You hadn’t noticed the small tears at the corner of your eyes. You come back to yourself, feeling a flurry of emotions come out of your pores—sweat and tears, Satoru’s warmth spilling out of you like dripping candle wax. 

He holds you again and strokes your hair in silent apology. You fall asleep. You don’t dream.

He’d fucked you into the next afternoon, apparently, because you don’t wake up until 1 pm. The sheets are warm with his presence, but there isn’t a warm body next to you.

When he comes back, his eyes are bloodshot. 

“Satoru?”

“He… he left,” he says. 

“What do you mean he left?” 

“Shoko found him and called me. He thinks he can create a world without non-sorcerers, he’s fucking—“

“Satoru!” you snap. 

He shuts up, looks at you with big eyes, wet and dark. 

“You— you saw him?”

“Yeah, just now—”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” you demand.

He blinks at you, at a loss for words. He was half-asleep when Shoko called, scrambled to put on pants before he basically warped to the middle of Shinjuku. Seeing Suguru again was whiplash. 

“I didn’t want to—you look so peaceful when you’re sleeping, y’know,” he stammers, running a hand through his haphazard white locks. Lingering bedhead. “And I didn’t want Suguru to think we were, you know, ganging up on him—”

“I wouldn’t care about being woken up if I got to see him!” you scoff. 

“You’re upset.”

“Of course I’m upset he’s my… he’s my friend, too!”

I loved him, too.

“It doesn’t matter. He’s gone.”

You must be red in the face. Your face stings with a wash of irritation, your nose twitching as if you’re about to cry. 

“What did you say to him?”

“He’s turned his back on Jujutsu society. That’s all there is to it. He thinks it’s justice.”

“You didn’t try to stop him? You just let him go?”

“I couldn’t kill him. You know that,” he says, his expression hard. 

Your throat catches on a lump, a ball of malignant rage threatening to choke you. The red string that connects you and Suguru has frayed limp. Between you and Satoru, it only tightens around your neck. 

“I could’ve talked to him,” you start babbling. “I could’ve–”

“Don’t be stupid. You know how stubborn he is. You really think that you would’ve made a difference?”

You narrow your eyes, wiping them before tears start to fall. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“I just… I just know him–”

“And I don’t?” you snap. 

“I didn’t say that.”

“It’s what you’re implying.”

Satoru scoffs. “You don’t get it. He’s set on this idea of his. You wouldn’t have changed his mind, I promise you.”

You shut your eyes, feeling the dagger of his gaze twist itself into your chest. There was that feeling again—knowing that you would never be like either Satoru or Suguru. You knew that perhaps Satoru would have more power over him, and despite that, he still left. 

You weren’t there for the past two months, didn’t see the dead look in his eyes. You would never understand him. You think that maybe no one would. You hate how desperately you wanted to know him, how intensely you would claw your way for love in a way that mattered. Years of being with Satoru proved that—you still felt beneath him. Beneath both of them.

“Hey. Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Don’t shut down. You always do that when you get upset,” Satoru grimaces.

You chew on the skin under your lip nervously. Your hands shake. You hate that Suguru has probably only shown a certain percentage of himself to you. There was no room for you to be entitled to the intricacies of his brain. 

The space between you and Satoru is a chasm. You don’t know what to do with your frustration. The only options in your head right now are to take it out on him or let it fester within yourself until you explode. Neither will do much in terms of closure. 

Satoru stares at you with jealousy stirring underneath his skin. It’s the earnestness in your hurt expression. It’s making the guilt inside him multiply like a virus.

“Are you in love with him?” Satoru asks, his voice hoarse.

You blink at him. “I don’t know,” you whisper.

“Do you love him more than you love me?”

“What? What does that have to do with–”

“Just answer.”

“I could ask you the same thing,” you mutter. 

Satoru winces, your words a sharp sting to his face. He hadn’t preferred either of you over the other, but he was protective of you in a way that he didn’t feel for Suguru. It ran deep enough to make him crazy—Suguru knew that. For some reason, it wasn’t anything that Satoru could admit out loud. 

He sighs heavily. “I love both of you. You know that.”

“Why are you asking this, Satoru?”

“Because… fuck. Because it doesn’t matter how much you and I loved him! It doesn’t fucking matter. He’s gone, okay?”

He’s too consumed with the thought of you beside him on that sidewalk, surrounded by a crowd. Tunnel vision set on a beautiful boy with sharp eyes, casually ready to leave the both of you in the dust. Part of him hates how much you love Suguru, how much Suguru seemed to love you back. He hates how much you’re fussing over his best friend when all he’s ever done since he met you was fuss over you. 

He hates how much he loves Suguru. So much so that out of his own selfishness, he wanted to face him alone when Shoko called. He didn’t want you beside him when he confronted Suguru, didn’t want to see the inevitable tears on your face once Suguru walked away. 

Satoru is convinced that you were made from him, and if he’s lost one soulmate, he refuses to lose another. 

And yet, you look at him coldly, like you’re going to leave, and his heart jumps out of his chest.

[hellsslibrary]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚NSFW Alphabet with Azul Ashengrotto˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

DNI : minors.

!!Warnings : switch!top!male!reader, switch!bottom!Azul, size difference kink, oral, toys, cock warming, praise/humiliation kink, power dynamic, ink(I'm not sorry).

#a.n. : While everyone is writing kinktobers, I'm still trying to finish this. But wait after the alphabets, there will be kinktober... In November, to make it more convenient (and maybe earlier, if I try). Also, no pictures today because I want to redo the decor, and I'm writing this part of Azul for two beautiful ladies, so...(I'll add them later)

A = Aftercare (What are they like after sex?)

He is embarrassed about this (just a little), but he will help put things in order in what he and his partner have done. Prefers to rest a bit before cleaning, but if his partner starts, he will certainly help too. Especially if he was in a dominant position.

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part as well as their partners)

Well, in your body it would... Certain parts. He definitely has a kink for the size difference (you can't argue with me, I want to pin him against the wall). And he will love anything if it is bigger than his body parts? Palms, muscles, if any, tongue, di—. Yes.

Honestly, he really likes his chest, and not just the nipples specifically, he likes it when his partner touches him anywhere on the chest in general. I just have a headcanon that he has very petite chest, even for a guy and well... Sorry.

C = Cum (basically anything related to sperm)

So... His sperm has the most ordinary consistency. It is released quite a bit during orgasm, but it tastes quite salty. There is his ink in the sperm (fanfiction with the overblot form of Azul is always in my head, maybe I’ll write them too someday)

Mmm, I think he likes it when people cum in his mouth. Fish sperm, according to internet experts, is simply disgusting. So he likes this taste, definitely.

D = Dirty Secret (Self-explanatory, their dirty secret)

He is the power bottom almost always, simply because he is flattered by the idea of control. But damn, he has moments where he just wants you to take it all into your own hands and take it as you please, mostly without considering his opinion (but still having his consent to it, of course).

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they are doing?)

... No. Simply no. He's definitely a virgin. I doubt he even knows much about sex in theory. Well, dick, hole there, sperm, orgasm. That's all, okay?

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy style~. Don't lie to me that you didn't want to bend him over his table in the VIP room, I won't believe you (it's not exactly doggy style, but who cares). He mostly refuses to look you in the face when you're dominant, so why not.

If he is dominant... Missionary position? I just like the idea of a dominant bottom underneath a service top and well... Azul would be a good fit. He likes to be snuggled anyway.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious at the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Extremely serious, but with a hint of playfulness, if that makes sense. For example, if he has sex with a partner, it means that they literally mean the world to him and he is exposing a part of himself that is really vulnerable, so he likes it if both parties take it very seriously, but he also likes to have an opportunity to tease you and pull your strings just to see how you react.

H = Hair (How well groomed is it? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I wouldn't say he's shaved, but his hair is definitely short, so there's no real need for that. The color is absolutely identical and they are also slightly curly, just like this hairstyle...

I = Intimacy (How are they feeling at the moment? Romantic aspect.)

He is very romantic in general. As I said earlier, he exposes a part of himself that is truly vulnerable, so when his partner takes it seriously, he feels very loved, generally respected and accepted, so he becomes much more romantic both sexually and in general .

J = Jack off (Main canon of masturbation)

He has a lot of stress in his life, you know? So, fuck... I think he would like to do this more often, but he doesn't do it often anyway. He still prefers your hands.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He probably likes to be humiliated and praised at the same time, and I can't explain it for the world, but I know it. Also likes power dynamics, likes to be bossed around and have less power than the other person, but still respected. But when it comes to dominating you—... For now. He also loves getting your cock warm (sorry). Well... I like to attribute this kink to all busy characters, except for Vil, what will you do to me.

L = Location (Favorite places to do things)

Very personal to him, so the only place he could really do this is either his room, his partners room, or some motel if he's really desperate. Specifically and for the most part, this is his room because he knows where everything is and he has certain toys that he can just pull out whenever he wants. Although... With a lot of persuasion or no choice (if one of you was EXTREMELY horny), he would agree to have sex in a less secluded place

M = Motivation (what turns them on, turns them on)

When he and his partner have a truly romantic relationship (that is, serious) or when you start whispering all sorts of dirty things in his ear and touching his thighs, for example.

N = No (Something they wouldn't do is disabled)

Hmm, I should at least list with someone no (with Vil there will be a direct list, lol), but Azula will also receive this honor. Rape, he also really doesn't like threesomes because he feels it's more about getting laid than actually caring about each other and wants to dedicate all his love to one person in particular. And also his real form until a very distant moment in the relationship.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Receiving. You can't tell me otherwise because this man looks like he was made to be flexed, especially with his skinny waist like...(sorry, I got carried away) and he probably doesn't mind either sit on your face (if that’s what you’re into, of course). The ratio would be something like this: 60% for you, 40% for you.

He's not particularly good at giving blowjobs, but it's all made better by his enthusiasm to bring you to orgasm as quickly as possible... As long as he's not teasing or denying your orgasm, of course.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He is slow and sensual as he loves to enjoy every moment he can spend with his partner in this way. Also wants to make sure that the other person knows that he loves them for real, and not just for sex.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickie games, how often, etc.)

Doesn't like quick games, but if he's really busy and his partner wants to do it, he'll agree to one. Well... Actually, they happen quite often, if I may confess.

R = Risk (are they playing with experiments? Are they taking risks? etc.)

Willing to take risks, but very quickly draws a line under what he doesn't like to do (he absolutely doesn't want many things until he becomes comfortable with his boyfriend/he has more trust in him). He wants to spend time with his partner as fully as possible.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they last? How long will they last?)

He becomes very weak in this position, so can usually only last about 7-10 rounds at most (still a reminder that this is a magical world, kittens). He actually only tries three or so, but if his partner wants to try a few more, he's more than welcome. True, only a few.

T = Toys (Do they have toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He probably has a dildo that he pleasures himself with from time to time, but he only really uses one. He takes good care of it and always makes sure it's properly cleaned so he doesn't get an infection or get sick or anything like that. Not a big fan of toys in general, but if that's what you want, he's okay with it.

U = Unfair (How much they love to tease)

He really likes both sides of the coin. He enjoys both teasing his partner and receiving teasing from him. Loves it when he squirms under his partner and he starts making comments about it, although he always complains about it, he likes it. And I also like the completely mirrored version.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Very loud because he often forgets to be quiet, the only thing he can really think about is his partner at that moment so nothing else matters. Although, if you persuade him to have sex outside of your rooms with him... He will hardly utter a sound, he is too ashamed.

W = Wild Card (random character headcanon)

He... Loves... Jerk... You... With...His... Tentacles. Okay, listen to me. When in the end, you gain his trust completely, he will agree to many things in his form. And damn... The tentacles are clearly faster and more skillful than his arms (even if they are quite chubby).

X = X-ray (Let's see what's going on under those clothes)

12 cm/just under 5 inches. He has a mole on his balls. His balls are surprisingly quite large and plump.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Like I said, his sex drive is quite high considering his stress level, but on average... He's fine with about 2-3 times a week. Although, what if you want more? He's all yours.

Z - Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep later)

Doesn't fall asleep right away, he likes to compliment his partner or talk a little before he falls asleep. If his partner is asleep, he can simply lie there for 10-20 minutes and come to the realization of what he just did before falling back to sleep.

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Starlet

Dieter Bravo x Co-Star x Wife Reader

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI)  Summary: Your husband has a big movie premiere, sure he looks great, but his co-star looks even better. Warnings: PWP, threesome, smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), lesbian fun, unprotected p in v sex, cum eating, addiction talk, sober Dieter, Kit Kats, I wrote this for the bi girls. Words: 3,750

A/N: This has been a labor of love and horniness. You should all just automatically know I'm thanking @ohheypedrito for always being my sounding board. Also @magpiepills for sharing in my MFF joy. Shout out to "Kiss Me More" by Doja Cat & SZA.

Masterlist

___

Fancy hotel suites might just be the biggest perk of marrying a Hollywood superstar. Room service whenever you want, plush robes to relax in, a balcony view of Los Angeles’ glimmering lights, and a large plush bed perfect to fit two… or three bodies.

Sure, you could have stayed home and waited for the car service to bring Dieter home after the premiere, but when the studio offers a free hotel suite, you and Dieter happily accept. You love to get fucked by your husband in a new bed. 

You’ve just dove into your new book, laid out on the chaise lounge of the balcony, sunning yourself in the early evening Summer sun when your phone dings with its customary Dieter ding. 

He should be getting ready for the movie premiere; what does he need to tell you?

You unlock your phone to a pic of Dieter sadly pointing to a large brown stain on his crisp, light blue shirt. 

Baby, this just happened.  Did you pack a backup? Nope. Do you have anything of mine here? Just your old Rage Against The Machine shirt I was wearing earlier.  Sold. I’ll take it. I’ll send Julien up to grab it.  Go have him buy a shirt. It has holes...  Nope. Now that I thought of having your scent on me all night, I need to wear it. Spray it with that perfume you use… Fine. You win. Love you baby. xoxo

You wonder why his team of publicists, assistants, and agents let Dieter style himself… or why they never remember to pack him an extra shirt.

He’s the love of your life, your uber famous partner, deserving of all of the rekindled fame, now sober and in the best place he’s been, thanks in large amounts to your influence.

You walked into his life weeks after his divorce, a man lost with a floundering career. He was too dangerous to work with, too manic, too unreliable. Then, you came in and helped pick his life up, as a favor to your friend Chrissy, his tenacious agent. You’re never supposed to fall in love with a client, but Dieter was just too irresistibly charming. You fucked him in your office after his third session. All of that hard work and student debt that earned you a psychology degree ended up getting you a diamond on your left ring finger and a dream wedding full of Hollywood elites.

You spritz the faded black shirt with your signature perfume and fold it for Julien to expeditiously deliver back to your husband. The wild life of a celebrity wife…

___

Your phone is propped up against a crystal vase that probably costs more than your first car streaming the red carpet premiere and Q&A of Dieter’s newest movie. You chose to sit this gigantic blockbuster event out, but it doesn’t mean you can’t support him from the comfort of this five star hotel room.

Your heart skips when the camera pans to Dieter getting out of the car. There he is, your celluloid husband, clad in all black, wearing the holey t shirt he just fucked you in before leaving you this afternoon.

The barriered crowd goes wild when they spot him. He smiles that megawatt smile, his signature dimples pressing into his golden skin. He’s so fucking beautiful.

You’re so proud of Dieter, you can hardly believe your husband is the star of the biggest summer film, standing tall and handsome with flash bulbs sparking across his face. You’re enamored by him, even when he’s a tiny square being live-streamed through your phone.

He joins his co-stars for a quick interview, his famous charm and humor is on full display, the crowd, host and co stars all laugh at his jokes. He truly is the golden boy of the red carpet.

You wonder if anybody else notices how he reaches for the hand of Greta, the actress who plays his wife in the film, when he realizes she’s nervous, much the same way he grabs your hand when you get anxious, being dragged to Hollywood parties and random awards shows. He’s always so thoughtful.

The interviewer asks Greta what it was like to act along with Dieter and play his wife. She laughs and blushes, Dieter’s arm rubs up and down her back, cuddling her closer to his body as she explains how wonderful of a man he is, how she felt very lucky to star in a movie with him. 

She’s absolutely stunning in her form fitting gold dress, you’re watching all of this for your husband and yet Greta keeps stealing your attention, lean, elegant, and absolutely radiant. You think to yourself how badly you want to fuck her. 

Dieter and the crew wave to the crowd and cameras thanking everybody for attending the red carpet, you smile at the sight of his gold wedding band before shutting the app down and opening the room service menu. It’ll be two hours until you hear from him after the movie. Time for an episode of Dateline.

___

You’re in a post grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup coma, the cops have just solved the triple homicide in the sleepy New England town when your phone beeps with the Dieter ding. 

Movie’s out. have to deal with after party then back to u. Miss u like crazy xoxoix !! Hi! Have fun!  Did u watch the red carpet? I did. You looked fucking hot.  Ya? I actually liked the shirt, it made me think of this afternoon… Me too baby Greta looked amazing, I was almost watching her more than you. Don’t you think she looked good? Of course I did  I think she likes you… saw a video on Twitter that makes me really see the goddamn chemistry you wouldn’t shut up about during filming. She said i smelled good tonight I told her ur the one to thank She can smell me anytime she wants. 😮 baby... Tell me D, do you miss kissing her now that filming is over? I know how you look at her, I’ve seen the previews and press appearances. Go ahead and tell me, baby.  dunno about miss, but i did like kissing her What if I were to ask you to kiss her tonight… 😮 Oh? And film it for me.  ohhhhhhhhh I can do that for you baby Go find her then.  I’ll be waiting God baby I’m glad i married you Xoxo

The giddiness that courses through your body makes a big smile bloom across your face. You sit back against the soft cushions and imagine Dieter tucking his phone in his pocket and setting forth on his mission. Waiting for it is so hot.

___

The Dieter ding buzzes. You��ve never been this excited to pick your phone up.

Dieter Bravo Attachment: 1 Movie

Your hands are practically shaking when you touch the little bubble on your phone. There, in the freeze frame stands your husband and his beautiful co-star.

You hit play.

Greta smiles at the camera before she purrs out, “Hi, Dieter says this is for you.”

She’s so beautiful in the dim video, her silver eyeshadow glistens under the flash, her big blue eyes already look blown out with lust; you wish you were the one who was about to kiss her plush lips. If she’s willing to do this for him, you don’t doubt for a second how attracted she is to your husband. Dieter winks at the camera before turning to Greta, clutching his hand on her cheek and sealing his lips against hers. It’s… so fucking hot. You can hear the distant sound of laughter and conversation of the party goers just below the sounds of Dieter and Greta’s tongues tangling. You wish you could taste both of them, now you’re really regretting staying back. The camera grows more unsteady the deeper the kiss grows. He sucks her bottom lip, you can almost feel the slight tinge of pain, god you want to feel it. Dieter pulls away, and turns Greta’s face towards the camera. 

“You want to kiss my wife, Starlet?”

“I do,” she answers. 

Dieter lets out a low chuckle before winking at the camera and ending the recording. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You’re already soaked from that short video.

Dieter has been so good during his sober journey, being honest and forthright when he's tempted, allowing the help of counselors and his Narcotics Anonymous sponsor. You've stood by his side as he's made huge strides to conquer his addictions. His old vices are now replaced by a new vice... sex. You're so proud of him, you want to reward him... and yourself.

Jesus Christ D.  U like? Can’t stop thinking about u watching that video baby I like it… a lot. Fuck!  Greta wants to kiss me? Think she wants u more than she wants me... I’d like to meet her. I’d like you to meet her too baby Is she busy after the party? Seems like tonight would be a good night for us to meet. Maybe she wants to come back to our room?  If that’s what u want baby It’s what I want D. Okay baby 

___

The click of the keycard entering the lock alerts you to Dieter and Greta’s arrival. You rise from the couch, smoothing out the wrinkles of your simple blue dress. 

“Hi baby,” Dieter smiles, his eyes twinkling with adoration. 

Greta follows him in, she’s even more beautiful in real life. 

“Hi,” Greta smiles, her eyes spark with lust as she looks you up and down. “Nice to finally meet you.” 

“Yeah,” you breathe out, “you too.”

Dieter’s head bobbles back and forth, caught up in the chemistry that sparks between his wife and his co-star.

There is so much anxiety coursing through you but the sheer desire for Dieter and Greta easily obscures any second thoughts. 

He walks over to you, planting a searing kiss on your lips and wraps you in his strong arms. 

“I missed you baby,” he says before kissing you. He pulls away, his soft, brown eyes roam your face. “Are you sure about this?”

You glance at Greta, focusing on her soft pink lips. “Extremely.”

“Excellent. Now, come here, let me show you off to her,” he grabs your hand and leads you to the middle of the room. “Want to show you my girl, starlet, go ahead and take a seat.” 

Greta sits on the sofa, settling in her dazzling golden dress. You feel underdressed compared to her beautiful designer clothing and Dieter’s close to perfect look. No paparazzi in their right mind would want pictures of you in your pale blue dress, but the way Greta’s eyes roam your body and the way Dieter runs his hands up your back and grabs your ass, you feel like you just won an Oscar.

“See her tits?” Dieter wraps his arms around your torso, bringing his hands up to cup your breasts in his hands cupping around the silk of your dress. “They feel so fucking good in my hands, they’re so soft and bounce in my face so perfectly when she rides me. You want to see her tits starlet?” 

Greta nods.

He slips the straps of your dress down your arms exposing your breasts to the cool hotel air and Greta’s eyes. 

He pulls you against his body, grinding his crotch against you moving his hands back up to cup the weight of your breasts.

Greta watches, blue eyes wide as Dieter pinches and pulls at the peaks of your nipples. 

“Watch this starlet,” he lifts his hand and softly smacks one of your breasts, causing a moan to leave your lips, your body falls even harder against his body. “She fucking loves when I do this.”

His hands snake down your torso, pushing your dress to fall down and pool at your feet leaving you bare naked for Greta to see. 

Her tongue darts out to lick her lips, as her eyes travel over your naked form. 

“Isn’t she magnificent, starlet?”

She arches an eyebrow. “Quite.”

Dieter walks forward, pushing you towards the couch Greta sits on, still looking just like she walked off the red carpet, perfectly put together like a goddess.

He stops at the marble coffee table, grabbing your leg and lifting it to perch on the top. 

His wide hand runs up your leg and pets your thigh.

“You like my wife?” his voice is low and rumbly against you. There's a bit of possessiveness to it.

“I do, she’s gorgeous.”

“She is. Isn’t she?” he says with pride.

His hand moves closer to your pussy, now dripping for him and your guest. “See, starlet, this is my pussy,” your body tenses as he dips a finger through your folds, “and she’s fucking soaked for me.” He brings his finger dripping with your wet to his lips and licks it, a moan leaves his lips when he tastes you. “Come here and taste her.”

Greta rises from the couch, walking over to stand next to Dieter. She's even more exquisite up close.

His hand returns to your pussy, petting and rubbing making you weak in the knees. 

“She’s so fucking wet for us, starlet.” 

You whimper at the sensation of the hard stone of his ring rubbing against your clit. He pulls his hand away, admiring the way your wetness stretches across his fingers.

His fingers are placed against Greta’s lips. She opens her mouth wide, accepting his drenched digits, Dieter groans as she licks your juices off of his skin. 

Just four hours ago, they were watching the premiere of their movie together while you watched a rerun of Dateline… now the three of you are locked in the beginning of a ménage à trois. Isn’t it funny how Hollywood works?

__

Conversation flows easily between the three of you. You love the way Greta teases Dieter, how she laughs at your jokes. She fits perfectly in to your married comfortability.

You’re naked atop Dieter's lap, Greta sits next to you, her hand rests on your thigh lightly petting it almost as an ever present reminder of what the three of you are here to do. You can’t believe how comfortable you are in this situation. 

“Shall we take this to the bed?” Greta offers as you and her share a glass of champagne. Dieter happily sips his Topo Chico, his eyes lit with mirth watching his wife and friend enjoy each other’s company. 

“I’d like that,” you say, turning to her and downing the rest of the glass of bubbly champagne.

“Great,” she smiles, standing up and slinking off her gold dress before laying on the bed and taking her panties off.

“She is… tenacious, isn’t she?” you muse as Dieter hugs you close and kisses your shoulder. 

“She is,” he chuckles.

“You ready?” he asks.

“I’m ready,” you get up from Dieter’s lap, he rises behind you before turning you to face him.

He holds your face in his hands, his brown eyes rounded with softness, an adoring grin on his face. “You really want to do this baby?”

You bark a laugh out. “Honey, she’s already naked in bed, of course I do.”

His eyes darken, his grin replaced with a searing smolder, the same smolder that drives millions of women and men crazy, “I love you.”

“I love you too, now let me eat her cunt while you watch.”

“Jesus, alright baby,” he grabs your hand, leading you to bed before removing his shirt and pants. He takes a seat on the chair by the window to observe.

Greta lays in front of you, splayed out amongst the white sheets, her skin looks so creamy and delectable. You climb over her, smelling the sweet scent of her perfume. She giggles when you knock your nose against hers, a giddy smile is shared between the two of you before locking lips. Kissing her is different from kissing Dieter, gentler, sweeter, softer. Her tongue is much smaller, her whimpers and breaths pitch higher. You lay your body against hers, fuck, she’s just as soft as you thought. Velvety smooth and sweet. Your breasts sit against hers, your soft and her soft resting against each other. Your pussy and hers radiate heat against one another when you angle your hips against hers. You kiss a line down to her neck, nipping and sucking at her skin… she faintly tastes of sugary coconut. You look over at Dieter while kissing, he winks before you stick your tongue out and lick one of her nipples. Delicious. 

God, her tits are perfect. Perky, a little pointy, pink nipples the same exact shade of cherry blossoms, your favorite flowers. Your tongue runs across the small valley between her breasts, sliding across each nipple and back. Sucking hard against each, latching your mouth around it before letting it go with a pop. She’s writhing on the bed from your mouth and hands, your self esteem rockets higher as she loses herself under your touch. 

Her smooth body runs along yours, her delicate hands grab at your skin, clawing and pressing the harder you suck her skin. 

You kiss a trail down her tight stomach, licking grabbing her long legs and spreading them wide to reveal her perfect, milky skin surrounding her pussy. She’s drenched, absolutely dripping with her arousal, you lick up the spilled wetness on the bed sheets before licking up to her pussy. Her bright blue eyes focus on your mouth as you envelop her cunt with it. Buttery smooth and soaked, you taste the familiar hint of coconut in her wetness. Perfect. 

Your tongue dashes against her clit, flattening and swirling, treating her like the glamorous Hollywood star she is by worshiping her beautiful body and cunt. Your tongue licks a line down her sweetness before darting into her sweet hole.

You feel the bed dip behind you, your heart explodes with the thrill of feeling Dieter’s broad body behind you, a large hand digs between your thighs, dipping two thick fingers into your cunt, opening you up for him. His thumb swishes across your clit, your tongue attempts to duplicate his movements against Greta’s pussy. He angles his digits perfectly, hitting that perfect sensitive spot inside of you, causing you to dive even further against Greta’s heat, trying to take every single drop of sweet nectar from her body. You cum all over Dieter’s hands, moaning and whimpering against Greta’s skin. 

Greta clenches around you, her hips grind against your mouth as you lick an orgasm out of her. Your arms reach up to grab her tits and knead them in your hands. 

“That’s my baby,” Dieter coos, pulling his hand from your pussy and slapping it against your ass, causing a loud moan to rumble against Greta's cunt.

He pulls your hips up, your bottom meets the rigid skin of his cock. He taps his thick member against your ass before spreading your legs, you bring two fingers to Greta’s leaking hole waiting for Dieter to take you so you can take her. His thick cock enters you, stretching you with that sweet sting you love to feel. Your fingers mirror his actions, slow pumps in and out of Greta, scissoring to stretch her like Dieter stretches you matching the rhythm of his movements.

His hand splays across your back, petting your spine as he starts slowly, languidly fucking you. The three of you dance to a sensual song, grunts and moan chorusing across the sound of your fingers and Dieter’s cock. It’s beautiful.

You happily suffocate against her pussy, licking through her folds and fucking her with your fingers while Dieter fills your slippery cunt. Your moans are muffled by her skin, Dieter’s grunts echo his thrusts. 

Your body is slick with sweat, face soaked in Greta’s arousal, your cunt clenches around your husband's cock, your tongue sits steady against Greta's pussy as Dieter fucks an orgasm out of you. He holds your shaking hips close as he tells you how good you're taking him, how much he loves watching you eat Greta's pussy.

“This is all–nyugh–for you baby,” he groans, as he pulls out, Greta catches you in her arms as your body falls without his support. “Roll over, roll over baby,” he hoarsely gasps as he strokes his cock. You move to lay on your back, Dieter pulls your legs wide open right before he paints your pussy with his thick white ropes.

Dieter rises off the bed on shaky legs, before flopping his naked body into the chair. “Go on starlet, clean my girl up.”

She moves quickly, like she can’t wait to taste the two of you, settling between your thighs, lifting your legs over her delicate shoulders, spreading you wide open for her mouth. Greta’s breathy moan against your cunt makes your back arch while her tongue cleans your cunt covered in Dieter’s seed. She dips a finger into your entrance, swirling it around your sensitive walls, her one finger is nothing compared to your husband’s thick cock but god, does her gentle touch drive you wild. Her mouth seals over your clit, kissing and sucking your swollen bundle of nerves. Her head rises and lowers with each pump of your hips into the air, dancing right along with you as your pussy rises to another crescendo of an orgasm. You turn your head to look at Dieter, naked with his legs spread wide, sitting like a king on a throne. He mouths “I love you,” out of the lips you crave to kiss as your body tightens and releases with another climax.

Greta brings her lips to yours, licking into your mouth leaving the intoxicating swirl of flavors of your wetness and Dieter’s cum against your tongue. She breathily chuckles at your long exhale before laying next to you, pushing her soft curves against you and hooking her leg over yours. 

Dieter walks over, naked and cocky, your superstar husband is in full effect even in the aftershock of your threesome. He kisses Greta’s cheek and whispers “thanks starlet” before leaning over, kissing your lips and cupping your cheek. “I love you baby,” he says, big brown eyes staring into yours. You return his smile before he turns towards the minibar and grabs a Kit Kat. Greta cuddles in closer to you on the bed, sometimes it’s good to have a movie star husband. 

[dgcarpets]

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[earthry]

Sugar Papas ( Sugar Daddy Headcanons)

I’m stressed about financial things right now so let’s discuss Sugar Daddy Papas. This is very self indulgent.

tw: sfw mostly, a little bit suggestive, mentions of surgery, fluff

Primo

You make him feel young again and he loves indulging you in the things you enjoy. If you’re going to school or you have a passion project he’s more than happy to fund them. Loves to take you with him to vineyards and fancy high society events. Will bring you to tour world famous botanic gardens and spoil you the entire trip.

Probably goes to expensive luxury country clubs and brings you along— there’s a massage and spa service and you always get a nice day of relaxation. You relax in the hot tub together and sometimes things get a little frisky because he just can’t resist that little pleased look on your face when you’re enjoying the heated water and a cold fancy drink that’s sitting on the edge, there’s music playing and not too loud— it’s a good life. You’re pleased and fuck if that’s not the hottest thing to Primo.

Secondo

Loves dressing you in expensive dresses and/or suits and showing you off on his arm. If you like feminine clothing he’ll take you to very fancy boutiques and wait while you try on dresses and the like. You always get 100% of the store’s attention and service because they know that Secondo will spend so much money if you like a particularly outfit. If you prefer masculine clothing, he takes you to expensive tailors and personally finds the best and most suitable fits for you. He’ll suggest several designs, but if there’s something you really have your heart set on he has no problem whipping out his credit card for you.

After retirement he enjoys traveling around Europe and will bring you with him. You always fly first class and his favorite game is ‘how far can we go before the flight attendant gets suspicious’. You have to learn to be quiet very quickly because Secondo has some very talented fingers that wander a lot. What you don’t know is that he’s already paid the crew off to not bother the two of you.

Loves to watch beautiful sunrises and sunsets with you so he always finds accommodations with the best views. He buys the finest wine and loves having you try his favorites or ones that are native to the region or area you are visiting. Loves to hear your opinion of everything— the wine, the food, the countryside. Could listen to you talk for hours.

Terzo

This man buys the most expensive lingerie for you and has you ‘model’ it for him. Takes you to red carpet events and operas, treating you to fancy five-star restaurants with rich food and good wine. He may have a playboy reputation and you had fully expected for this arrangement to only last a few months, but the two of you are celebrating your third year anniversary soon. He’s planning to fly the two of you out to some exotic vacation spot for a full week of absolute bliss.

Every fancy hotel you visit he insists ‘breaking’ the bed in and after his appetite is sated, he will call room service and let you order whatever you want. Buys you expensive body lotions and oils and massages you, hands running up and down your body as he whispers worship and praises.

If you have a favorite tattoo artist you want a tattoo from, he'll do his best to get you a booking and fly you out. He'll sit there and hold your hand and help you take care of it after. And of course, he'll pay for the whole thing.

Copia

You go with him on tour and the ghouls consider themselves lucky to have you because Copia will book the best hotels for you because you deserve nothing less. You enjoy lazy evenings in between concerts nestled in his lap with your back against his chest as a movie plays on the big screen in your hotel room and Copia slowly hand feeds you fruit or cheese, stealing a kiss after each bite.

He loves to have his hands on you, loves the feeling and reminder that you are his. The expensive clothing you wear, the necklace and watch and shoes, those are all claims to him. Little touches against your shoulder, hand around your waist, lips brushing against your temple, you’re intoxicating to him.

Supportive about plastic or transition surgeries, he’ll pay for it all and it will be at the best places with the best care. He’ll pay for any treatments you want, will help administrator them if needed. He will give you so many affirmations for your body whether it be physical or gender-based, he’s more than happy to please. He just wants you to feel comfortable in your own body. Buys you the most expensive products for care.

Sets up an Etsy account for you and links his card to it— doesn’t care what you buy as long as it makes you happy. Almost cries when you buy a little keychain of him and tell him that way he can always be with you-- he immediately insists on finding someone who does custom art and keychains to get one of you too.

[alizayildiz]

Summary: You’re sick of Kenan’s behaviour these last couple of months and you finally cut ties with him at the Ballon D’or Event. But he doesn’t let you go that easily.

"Fuck you I don't need you" were the last words I yelled at my boyfriend. Ex boyfriend now.

Your phone was ringing non stop.

Kenan was calling you, texting you, even sending you voice messages. He soon realised that you weren't gonna pick up his calls so he tried to reach you with the phones of his friends, you did not pick up either.

Currently you were sitting in your car driving out of town.

You tried your best to not cry due to the fact that you are driving so you need to pay attention to the streets. It was also late at night, if everything had worked according to plan you would have been sitting next to your Boyfriend Kenan Yildiz in the crowd of the "Ballon D'or" premier but the night took a unpleasant turn. The outfit you are wearing was not really ideal for driving a sport car either. It was an all black outfit with boots from Valentino, a short cocktail dress with a long leather & feather coat and a YSL clutch.

You put your phone on dnd and airplane mode. You were sick of Kenan always fucking up things and then apologising for it.

"Why can't he just act right ?" You asked yourself. Taking off the pressure on the gas pedal of your Porsche 911 you stopped the car at a red light. You decided to open Spotify for some music, hoping that at least music will get your mood up before you have to show up at the company Event of your parent's company. You don't want them to see you cry, they already hate Kenan enough for what that boy has done to you.

"Pad lock" by 21 Savage started playing and you turned up the volume.

As the light turned green you pressed your foot down on the speed pedal, your Porsche nearly flying. You absolutely love sports cars. Your adrenaline gets up every time when you're speeding up your different cars. The navigation system was directing you to the location you typed in earlier.

"You'll reach your destination in 10 minutes" it spoke up.

You thought about if your makeup is still looking decent due to all your crying. You thought about who could possibly win the Ballon D'or, deep down you knew Kenan will win it but no other footballer ever won a Ballon D'or at age 19 so Kenan told you to not get your hopes up. It's funny how he always supports his colleagues but never trusts himself. You're his biggest supporter and everyone knows that.

You also started to blame yourself for the way you acted earlier before leaving the Party.

You threw fits at him, slapped him, yelled at him not even giving him the change to explain himself. "But what is there to explain ?" You questioned the situation.

He was getting out of the men's restroom with an unknown girl following him behind. If you hadn't decided to wait for him in the hallways you would have never caught him cheating on you.

Well you're not sure if he did cheat, it just really looked like it.

If the footballer who was sitting on your other side hadn't been so touchy with you and so flirty with you, you would have never left your seat. He's the reason you got up from your seat searching for Kenan's protection only to find him with another girl.

From the beginning of your relationship he promised that he would never ever lie to you, that he'd always tell you if girls hit on him when you're away. But since a couple of months he's acting out of line. Never picking up your calls or texts, clubbing around, photoshoots with beautiful models and no acts of service. It's like he mentally broke up with you instead of doing it in real life.

I drove to the entrance of the event and got out of my car.

Handing the keys of my Porsche to the man that was standing at the reception he got in my car and parked it somewhere. As soon as my heels walked over the red carpet I heard paparazzi shouting my name, flashing lights everywhere, people asking question, fans wanting my Autogramm and a picture with me. Normally I'd take my time with pleasing everyone around me but today was not my day.

Before I could walk in I heard a Paparazzo yelling "why are you not at the Ballon D'or premiere with your Boyfriend Kenan Yildiz?" It was a juicy question and everybody knew it so they repeated his question over and over.

~

My head was hurting and I was feeling really dizzy. I've spent the last two hours talking to super rich people I don't even know that well. I tried to hide the boredom that was clearly written all over my face but I just know everyone can see that I don't like being here but the Mercedes-Benz Event was a hit and I was happy that my parents achieved such success.

I decided to open instagram to check my messages, and the first post I saw was Kenan his, with the Ballon D'or next to him.

He won the Ballon D'or. I smiled at the screen, I knew he would win it. On my for you page there popped up thousands of posts with Kenan and the Ballon D'or, instagram story's of every footballer were filled with pictures they took of Kenan and the Trophy.

I admired the picture not aware of what's happening around me.

"This was supposed to be our night" I thought to myself. I felt tears building up in my eyes.

I wondered why he isn't smiling in any of the pictures of that night. Maybe because of how things ended between him and me. Then suddenly a bouquet of red roses mixed with baby's breaths flowers got placed next to my plate.

I didn't need to turn around to know who it was, I immediately knew. He always apologises with these kind of bouquets, I was sick of it. He pulled out the chair next to me and sat down.

None of use spoke to each other we just observed everyone around us.

"You know that you're the only woman that I want in my life" Kenan finally said. I scoffed at his words.

"Sure" I replied, he knows that when I answer with short words that I don't agree with him and that I'm annoyed or upset.

„Look at me" he said turning his head to me. I did not do such thing which provoked Kenan even more so he took a hold of my ankle.

I tried to free my leg but that wasn't even possible. Kenan way more stronger then I am and he didn't even use his full strength, he used none of it and even that was impossible for me to fight back.

A smirk appeared on Kenan's face, probably remembering all the memories of back then when he touched my leg like that, but for other things. For good things, good but unspeakable things. He stared stroking my ankle with his thumb.

"Will you please look at me my love" he gently spoke, I did as I got told.

"I was not having relations with that girl in the man's bathroom. I was just washing my hands and she walked in trying to seduce me. I did not want to be disrespectful to her but I also don't want to be disrespectful towards you. So I left the man's bathroom as soon as I could" he explained himself, looking deep into my eyes.

"You expect me to believe what you just told me" I raised an eyebrow at him laughing at his made up excuse.

"I know that I was a miserable boyfriend the last couple of moths but I did it for you" he blurred out. I let out an amused laugh, taking a sip of my wine.

"Alright" I gave him a short answer to which Kenan's grip around my ankle got harder, like he was about to break my bone.

I tried to free my ankle but I failed.

"You're not going anywhere without me. I never cheated on you with anyone during our relationship, I had to put my focus on football more than on you. Do you want to have a boyfriend who earns little money, who's not famous, who is just a joke people done take serious? I doubt so" he hissed at me. And we both knew that he is right. I want a boyfriend that is wealthy, that is famous and that is a respected man with success.

"I also want a boyfriend that pays attention to his girlfriend" I spat back at him.

"Mi amor, you're the only thing that's on my mind 24/7" he leaned forward, his nose was a few inches away from mine. One thing that always makes me weak is Kenan speaking Italian. Since he plays for Juventus Turin and lives in Turin he learned to speak the Italian language fluently.

The tension was strong and we both felt it.

"Y/N care for a little dance ?" I suddenly heard the voice of the son of one of business men here at the event.

I coughed and turned away from Kenan.

"Of course yes just a minute" I said smiling at the young man in front of me.

He nodded walking towards the dance floor.

"I have to go Kenan let go of me" I looked into his eyes pleadingly.

"But you belong to me" Kenan replied before crashing his lips onto mine.

[f1letters]

mastermind | cs55

"what if I told you none of it was accidental?"

summary: it all started when she saw him across the room and she knew right away she wouldn't give up until he was hers

warning: overall fluff, lying reader (with the dumbest but funniest plan too lol), daddy issues, slut-shaming, mentions of alcohol, swearing, suggestive language, the beginning of the story takes place in 2021 when Carlos joined Ferrari (so it's all flashback for much of the story, including the 2021 Monaco GP)

pairing: carlos sainz x reader

word count: 3.8k

note: everything in bold are song references and in italic are thoughts, which includes memories from the past.

spanish words used: corazón = heart; bebé = baby; ay Dios mío = oh my God; mi amor = my love; te quiero mucho = I love you so much

so I guess this week's theme is Scuderia Ferrari! haha, I hope all of you enjoy this one as always! I can't believe we are already on the 6TH STORY of the midnights series! thank you for all the love you have been giving me in the past weeks since I started, it means the world to me

masterlist

Once upon a time, the planets and the fates

And all the stars aligned

You and I ended up in the same room

At the same time

Once upon a time, in the beautiful city of Milan, dozens of people gathered at a gala dinner to celebrate the anniversary of the iconic racing team that was Scuderia Ferrari.

Like everything associated with the luxury Italian car manufacturer, the dinner was going to be a monumental and remarkable celebration. The red team never did anything less than big, so clearly, no costs had been spared to make the party the best it could be.

It had vintage cars on display, red carpets throughout the corridors, and walls covered in gold frames with images of the team's history over the decades. The ostentation was notable, from the table decorations in the characteristic Ferrari colours to the incredible reception and service of all employees of the gala.

Y/N couldn't believe all the beauty her eyes saw. The young woman almost felt dizzy trying to capture all the details that surrounded her.

Being the daughter of a very busy businessman, it wasn't the first time that the girl ended up having to represent him in business commitments due to his inability to attend. However, as someone who only played a small role in the company's finances, she still felt lost and out of place, especially at a dinner party the size of this one.

The weight on her shoulders of representing her father, one of the team's biggest investors and sponsors, was something that still scared her, no matter how many times she did it.

Y / N walked elegantly across the room, with the sound of her high heels clicking on the floor following her until she reached her table. Her name written on a glass plate indicated where she should sit and she did so, adjusting her long black silk dress so that it wouldn't get crumpled on the chair.

As time progressed, her table was filled with old and arrogant businessmen, more interested in talking about money and showing off their luxury. Y/N made small talk occasionally, but she obviously felt like an outsider.

My father would fit perfectly in here, she couldn't help but think. Critical of her as always, even without being in Italy, he managed to complain about her look for the evening, criticizing her choice of dress for not being red or yellow like the symbol of the Prancing Horse. 

The young woman ended up giving in partially, painting her lips with a red lipstick that she had forgotten in her suitcase, seeking his approval, just like she had done all her life.

Her eyes roamed along the room in search of entertainment, so bored that watching others would be a far more interesting escape than listening to the men talk.

And that's when she saw him, in the same room, at the same time.

In all his splendour, Carlos Sainz, the promising Spanish driver who had just joined Scuderia Ferrari, immediately captured her attention. He was sitting at the bar, in a black suit that fit his muscular frame perfectly, fiddling with his phone, probably just as pleased to be there as she was.

All the stars aligned to bring them there at that moment, and Y/N was determined to take advantage of the chance of a lifetime given to her.

And the touch of a hand lit the fuse

Of a chain reaction of countermoves

To assess the equation of you

Checkmate, I couldn't lose

She sat there for a few minutes while she listed several potential ways to approach the driver.

Could she be straightforward and sit next to him at the bar and try to strike up a conversation? No, that wasn't a good idea. He wouldn't want some random girl bothering him at his first Ferrari show. 

What if she waited for him to look her way and smile at him, or wave at him, something like that? Okay, that was ridiculous. If Carlos didn't look at her all night, Y/N was going to stay there forever staring at him like a stalker, only to go home disappointed.

The young woman needed an excuse to talk to him, something that would allow her to build a master plan that could not fail.

She couldn't lose. She couldn't let this chance pass.

Nothing was going to stop her.

He had to be hers.

And then it hit her, her 'a-ha!' moment. With a completely out-of-the-box idea, the girl got up from her chair, apologised to the people at the table for leaving, and confidently started her mission.

Carlos was sitting at the bar all alone, holding a whiskey in one hand while the other was scrolling through his Instagram feed, until out of nowhere he felt the touch of a small, soft hand on his big, rough one, catching him off guard.

"Sorry about that, but there's this weird guy who keeps bugging me. When I saw you alone, I told him my boyfriend was waiting for me as an excuse for him to leave me alone, I'm sorry." Y/N lied through her teeth and let out a nervous giggle as soon as she saw the Spaniard's shocked face.

Carlos couldn't help but notice the girl's charming figure and the way the dress fit her amazing body in all the right places, still in shock mode not knowing what to say.

Y/N noticed and released a smile. Her plan was kicking off and starting in full force. "I hope you don't have a girlfriend who is going to show up at any moment and pull my hair out for hitting on her man?" She said, laughing more confidently now.

"Don't worry. There is no girlfriend." He smiled at him, allowing their eyes to meet for the first time and squeezing her hand more securely. "So who's the creepy guy?"

"Oh." Oh fuck. Y/N did not expect this question at all. Panicking already about her lie being revealed, the woman impulsively looked over her shoulder and pointed at a random skinny man who had his back to them. "That guy over there, but I think I've already lost him."

Carlos looked in the direction she pointed and a discreet smirk formed on his face. He looked back at the girl and without releasing her hand from his hold, he spoke. "So, what's your name, corazón?"

What if I told you none of it was accidental?

And the first night that you saw me

Nothing was gonna stop me

I laid the groundwork, and then

Just like clockwork

The dominoes cascaded in a line

Though the beginning of the couple's story had been anything but accidental, for the rest of that night, they were all about each other. Attached at the hip, they eventually moved to the driver's table, cocktails in their hands, and just talked for hours on end about everything and anything: from how nervous he was about joining a racing team with a history like Ferrari's, to why she was at that gala, even if she didn't look like one of the normal guests at these celebrations.

The fiery chemistry between them was noticeable to anyone who laid eyes on them, and with him being the hot new addition to the team, countless people were curious about the pair.

The two felt like children again, so much was the joyful enthusiasm that grew inside them. They didn't know if it was something physical or psychological that was happening to them but one thing they both believed: it was something magical.

But love at first sight has these foolish things: for those lucky enough to experience it, it only happens once in a lifetime and it's something that stays with them until the end of time.

After a while, Carlos excused himself to go to the bathroom and Y/N knew it was time to get the second phase of her master plan in order.

When the driver came back, the woman was nowhere to be seen. It was almost as if she were a mirage, a figment of his imagination that simply vanished into thin air.

He looked for her, looking all around the splendorous dining room, but there was no sign of her. What do you mean she left him alone after all the chemistry that was created between the two throughout that night?

It was as he turned back to the table that Carlos noticed the red napkin folded over his plate. Carefully, he picked it up and unfolded it, finding a phone number and the girl's name written in black ink, along with a clumsy heart at the bottom of the note.

If she had planned to have him completely fascinated by her and wanting to see her again more than anything else, she had succeeded.

What if I told you I'm a mastermind?

And now you're mine

It was all by dеsign

'Cause I'm a mastermind

The very next day Carlos gained the courage to text her and make his move since the pawns were now on his side.

From: Unknown

I have a paddock pass with your name on it as my guest waiting for you. Monaco, next Sunday. Hope to see you there, bebé - CS

Her heartbeat immediately sped up as she read that message. However, there was no time to waste.

The show must go on. She had a man to win. Putting her brave face back on, the young woman took a deep breath and decided to send a text playing hard to get, trying to entertain the curiosity he had in getting to know her better.

To: Carlos Sainz

I guess you'll have to wait and see if I show up...

You see, all the wisеst women

Had to do it this way

'Cause we were born to be the pawn

In every lover's game

Sunday morning came in the blink of an eye.

Y/N woke up with the sunlight hitting the window of her hotel room. She got up right away, put on a robe and went to the entrance to the balcony to observe the breathtaking view of Monte Carlo.

The girl could barely contain the butterflies of anticipation that she had in her stomach, anxious to see again the Spaniard who controlled all her thoughts since the gala where they met.

During the days until the race weekend arrived, the couple exchanged messages all the time. Not only did it allow them to get to know each other better, but it also took their relationship to a new level, with the two of them now openly flirting, not afraid to reveal their mutual interest in each other.

Y/N went to her wardrobe and carefully chose her outfit for the day, selecting a simple white jumpsuit and silver open heels. 

She knew that her presence would be noticed, thanks to the importance of her last name, something that worried her a lot. Not because of Carlos, but because of what her father would say.

The businessman had heard from some of his associates about his daughter's interaction with the driver during the Italian team's anniversary, which led to a huge argument between them. Y/N's father expressed his disappointment in (what he thought was) his daughter's lack of professionalism, going so far as to accuse her of being a disgrace to the family name for acting like a 'slut'.

Nothing out of the ordinary for him. The young woman could no longer take the things he said to heart, with so many criticisms and low expectations her dad had of her.

She wasn't going to stop living because of him, especially when it put at risk her relationship with a man as spectacular as Carlos.

Going against her father's orders, Y/N got on their private plane and flew towards Monaco without giving him any explanation of where she was going.

After she finished getting ready, the woman looked at her reflection in the mirror and one of Carlos' many texts echoed in her thoughts: your red lipstick drove me completely crazy to kiss you in Milan. And with that came the next step in her master plan. She took the same lipstick and applied it over her lips. 

Carlos wouldn't be able to resist.

If you fail to plan, you plan to fail

Strategy sets the scene for the tale

I'm the wind in our free-flowing sails

And the liquor in our cocktails

Y/N got into her rented black Ferrari parked outside the hotel and drove the short distance to the circuit. Did she need to have such an ostentatious car with her? No, she didn't. But why not take advantage of her connections with the team to entice the man who was waiting for her?

Arriving at the parking lot, the engine of her car caught the attention of the people who were there. Photographers began to direct their cameras in her direction, flashes going off, waiting to know who was behind the smoked windows driving.

As soon as she got out of the vehicle, she could hear whispers: who was she, where was her father, was she a guest of Scuderia Ferrari, did she have an affair with one of the drivers.

Putting on her sunglasses to protect herself from the sun as well as the flashes, Y/N lifted her head and started to walk confidently towards the entrance where she knew her pass had been left by Sainz and was waiting for her.

On the other side of the paddock, Carlos became aware of the commotion that was settling in at the entrance, wondering which celebrity had arrived this time. Although he was still hopeful, the driver didn't know yet if his dream girl was going to show up.

Seconds later, his colleague Charles approached him and the two sat on two piles of tires, talking about the race that was going to start in half an hour until Monaco's home hero interrupted the conversation.

"Mate, isn't that your girl?" Leclerc, now in on the subject after Carlos told him everything about that night, asked when he saw a figure in white approach their motorhome, with a sea of photographers following close behind her.

"Ay Dios mío, she came." Carlos spoke aloud, blurting out his thoughts as his brain seemed to shut down with the image of her.

Y/N was now mere steps away from the boy and looked directly into his eyes, giving him a sly smile, almost like a scheming criminal plotting something.

With his eyes still locked on her, as if she were the only person in the world at that moment, Carlos watched as she walked right past him into the motorhome, not saying a word to him.

Just a gentle touch on his hand, like she did at the bar on that memorable night.

"Good luck with her, mate." Charles' laughter echoed in the Spaniard's ears as the Monegasque left, leaving Sainz standing there, speechless, all alone.

Carlos woke up from his trance when he felt the flashes on him. The photographers. They sure took pictures of their little moment there.

Oh, she was trouble.

What if I told you none of it was accidental?

And the first night that you saw me

I knew I wanted your body

I laid the groundwork, and then

Just like clockwork

The dominoes cascaded in a line

The man followed her path and entered Ferrari's home, immediately seeing her alone, leaning against one of the walls and concentrating on her phone.

Quickly, the driver reached near her and grabbed her hand, pulling her with him into his driver's room.

On the other hand, the girl hadn't even realized what was happening to her when her back made contact with a wall inside a small room and she heard the door close in a hurry.

The image in front of her left her feeling equally shy and wanting more. Carlos placed both hands on the wall next to her head, making it impossible for her to break free from his hold.

"You're playing with fire, corazón." Carlos moved dangerously close to her, allowing her to feel his warm breath on her neck. "Coming in here teasing me like that."

"Me? Teasing? Never." Y/N replied, running her hand over the fireproof garment that covered the man's toned chest. 

"You're lucky I spent all this time waiting for you to come." He lifted his head, making eye contact with the girl. "You make me lose all control, bebé, I swear. Since the first night I saw you, I've wanted your body."

One of the driver's hands left the wall and he brought it to the young woman's cheek, letting his thumb run gently across her lower lip.

"That red lipstick again." Sainz reduced the distance between them even further, letting his own mouth graze over hers. "You're doing it on purpose."

"What if I am?" She spoke, giving him a look that was a perfect mixture of innocent and provocative.

Carlos glanced at the watch on his wrist for just a second, turning his attention back to her right away. "Then I guess I still have time to show you what happens when I lose control."

Although he ended up in second place in that race, almost reaching the top of the podium, Carlos left Monaco feeling like a winner after that half hour between those four walls.

Nothing would ever make him feel on top of the world like her on top of him.

What if I told you I'm a mastermind?

And now you're mine

It was all my design

'Cause I'm a mastermind

More than a year and a half later, and with the 2022 Formula 1 season now over, Y/N and Carlos were still together and happier than ever.

They overtook everything that came their way, only to get back stronger.

Her father obviously hadn't taken their relationship well from the start, leading the girl to quit the company and cut off contact with him for months on end. only now trying to make amends. Only now, more than a year later, the two were trying to make amends and reconnect, since the businessman contacted her to apologize for everything he had put her through during her life.

The media was also a difficult step to overcome. For a long time, they insisted on invading their privacy due to the business connections between both sides. It was tricky to strike a balance between not being a secret and keeping their relationship to themselves at the same time. But eventually, the two of them managed to get there with the experience that time brought.

Now, the couple was lying in their bed, in the house they had recently bought together in Milan, a city so special to them and that symbolized the beginning of their story.

Being there, in silence, holding each other, with the room lit only by the light coming from the fireplace. That meant the world to them. Those were the kind of moments they cherished the most, especially in such a relationship that required a lot of work with how much he travelled during most of the year.

The young woman was lost in the memories of the past, daydreaming about the beginning of their history, when Carlos intertwined their fingers and placed a kiss on the top of her head.

He was hers.

Just like she designed it like the mastermind she was.

No one wanted to play with me as a little kid

So I've been scheming like a criminal ever since

To make them love me and make it seem effortless

This is the first time I've felt the need to confess

And I swear

I'm only cryptic and Machiavellian

'Cause I care

Perhaps moved by her trip down memory lane, for the first time in their relationship, Y/N felt the sudden need to confess.

Her palms got sweaty as soon as she started to think of all the scenarios that could result from her confession. What if he didn't want her anymore? Would it be worth it to risk an argument over a detail about the day they met?

"Mi amor, what's wrong?" Carlos asked as he felt the heat and sweat between their clasped hands, sitting down on the bed with his body lightly over hers.

"What if I told you none of this was accidental?" She asked nervously, earning back a laugh from her boyfriend's mouth.

"Sorry bebé, but you've lost me now." He confessed.

"The first night that you saw me. I planned the whole thing. There wasn't a creepy guy trying to hit on me. I lied to get you to talk to me." Wasting no time, Y/N let the words out of her mouth before the courage to speak again disappeared.

So I told you none of it was accidental

And the first night that you saw me

Nothing was gonna stop me

I laid the groundwork, and then

Saw a wide smirk on your face

You knew the entire time

Y/N put both hands over her face to hide and avoid seeing the driver's reaction to her admission.

Carlos, on the other hand, could only chuckle as he brought his hands to his partner's wrists in order to expose her face again.

The young woman opened her eyes slowly in fear, only to be faced with a wide smirk on his face as he looked at her as if she had told the greatest joke in the world.

"I'm being serious, babe. I swear it's the truth." She stressed, remaining with her back flat on the mattress and with her boyfriend's body now fully against hers.

"Ay mi corazón, te quiero mucho." Carlos let out a loud laugh and held her face, placing a quick kiss on her lips to calm her down. "I knew the entire time."

"What?" She asked in shock, sitting on the bed and forcing the boy to sit with her.

"You know the random man you said was the perv?" Y/N nodded in response to Sainz's question. "It was my cousin Carlos. He had been with me all night until I went to the bar to get a drink."

Oh. My. God.

Y/N was never going to show up at the next Sainz family gathering.

You knew that I'm a mastermind

And now you're mine

Yeah, all you did was smile

'Cause I'm a mastermind

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thank you to everyone that asked to be tagged! please let me know if you want to be added to the next stories! 💌

[please-let-me-be-horny]

Fan Service.

(Ok! So this story literally took way longer than I thought it would. I may have gotten a little too invested in the characters. But !!!TW!!! This piece of fiction features questionable consent, r*pe and intox. This is entirely a fictional fantasy based off a dream one of my favourite mutuals had about The Good, The Bad, and The Neutral.)

The three of them stood shoulder to shoulder, gazing down at the panting, bleeding mess of their latest victim. Bad had done what he did best and made him suffer, whilst Neutral and Good kept an eye on the door. They knew their roles. They knew their responsibilities. Good made for a convincing underage girl. Neutral was tech savvy enough to locate where this creep was. Bad taught him the lessons he needed to learn. They had just gotten done with their first lesson and were taking a moment to let him recover for the next lesson. It was during this momentary break in the festivities that the chime of the library door sounded, drawing their attention back towards the entrance.

"you forgot to hang the closed sign in the window, didn't you, Good?"

"there was a closed sign?"

Bad let out a frustrated grunt, turning back around and sending a fist into the side of the librarians head, tipping him over in his chair and silencing him.

"your fuck up. Your responsibility. Go make whoever it is disapear, idiot."

Good huffed, trudging towards the front of the library.

It was only a small basement dwelling. A few book shelves lining a long and narrow space. Claustrophobic was the word that came to mind as Good shuffled his way between the shelves. He made no attempt to conceal himself, poking his head around a book shelf and spotting their intruder.

She wasn't wearing a police uniform, which was already a good sign. Instead She was dressed for comfort. A large, loose fitting shirt, baggy worn out jeans and a pair of trainers. She was also soaking wet from the heavy rain outside, shivering and dripping all over the floor.

"uhh...hello? Sorry, I only stopped in to get out of the rain...what's with the mask?"

Good took a moment, eye brows raised as he quickly thought up an excuse. "Uuh... fumigation...lots of uh...dust and stuff here, you probably don't wanna be breathing any of this in...here, come inside, it's safe, you just don't wanna hang around too long..." Nailed it. Good stepped out from around the book shelf, approaching the girl and reaching into his back pocket for the rag he had used to chloraphorm the librarian only a few hours earlier.

"are you sure? I really don't wanna be a burden if you're in here working..."

Good simply nodded, lifting the cloth up to her face and gently pressing it over her mouth and nose. By now any of the remaining fumes from the previous dosing of chloraphorm will have mostly faded, but it was gonna be more than enough for someone of such a small stature.

"o-oh! Thank....yooou?" Her voice faded quickly as her eyes rolled backwards. Good was quick to step closer and support her body weight, turning her back to his chest and begining to drag her backwards deeper into the library. "Shhhh sweetheart, let's get you out of these wet clothes....you'll catch your death like that..."

Hearing the sounds of heels dragging against the carpet, Bad and Neutral turned to watch as Good dragged the girls body across the floor and gently laying her down Infront of them.

"What kind of fucking "disappearing" act is this? You just gave us another witness to dispose of, you fucking moron." Neutral raised his hands to his temples, rubbing the growing headache out from the sides of his skull.

"look I'm not gonna send some poor girl back out into the rain, besides, I gave her the rag" His voice came out with a hint of exasperation on his tone, as Good began rummaging through her pockets to find her phone and purse, and tossing them to Bad. "you know I'm not good at thinking on my fe-"

"hhhnmh..." Their fresh hostage squirmed on the floor, her eyes fluttering slightly as she rolled onto her side, sleeping. The three of them stood motionless, ready to act if she woke up.

"you said you ragged her"

"I did! I didn't have time to apply a full dose, she only got the left overs of the librarians hit"

Both Neutral and Good continued to bicker amongst themselves in hushed tones as Bad scrolled through the girls phone, letting out a short and sinister chuckle. She was a following his blog. He even recognised the username from his notifications. Kneeling down, he reached down and offered her face a few firm slaps, drawing her out of her unconscious state, and holding her phone up to her sight line, showing her his blog. He didn't speak. He never did. He simply held a finger up to the part of his mask where his mouth would be, indicating silence as he gazed directly into her hazy eyes.

"y-you're....hmm you're eyes are priiiiiddyyyy...." Clearly she was still heavily dosed, speaking with a lazy tone and reaching up to place her hands on Bads face. Turning to the others, Bad passed her phone to Neutral, letting him scroll through the girls blog as Bad began removing her clothes.

"...are we sure it's a good idea to let him...you know..."

"only about as good as your idea to bring her into the shop instead of getting rid of her like I asked you to. Go lock the door. And put the fucking closed sign up this time."

Behind his glasses, Good rolled his eyes, and once again trudged off to the front, leaving Neutral and Bad to their own priorities.

"Bad, go get the tape. If she's gonna stay, we don't want her running off and getting us in trouble....though based on the things she has liked on your blog, I don't think she is gonna mind so much." Neutral was quite surprised by what he found in her likes. He knew Bad had an online following of perverts, but he hadn't expected to ever meet any of them.

Bad nodded, standing up and moving towards the back of the library to collect his toy box. Neutral remained with the girl, stepping over her hips and standing over her, he bent down at the hips to look into her dazed and puzzled eyes. "You, my dear, chose the wrong basement. But it's ok, I'm not going to hurt you. But we need to ensure your silence....so we're going to make a little movie for Bads blog...you seem to be a fan so I'm sure you won't mind." The poor girl only responded with a slow and hazy "w-wait...."

Neutral placed her phone in his pocket, before producing his own, and setting it up on one of the shelves. He fussed about the positioning and the light. Even going so far as to gently push her across the rough carpet with his boot in order to position her more conveniently for his video. He grit his teeth a little as his OCD began nagging at him. She was still wet. And it was soaking into the carpet causing an unpleasant squelching beneath his feet. It was too much for his senses.

As Good and Bad returned, they found Neutral stood over her naked body, folding her clothes neatly and placing them in a tidy pile on one of the emptier book shelves, having removed the rest of her clothing. As the two stood gawking at her, neutral was the only one still focused on the task at hand, rolling his eyes and snapping his fingers Infront of the two of them. "For fuck sake, get on with it."

A sinister chuckle escaped from Bads mouth, muffled and raspy as it rattled out from the base of his throat. Good on the other hand, was a little more hesitant. She looked so small and fragile alone down there by herself. "p-pleaash....n-no." the words came out with little to no strength behind them, she was practically whispering as her eyes swayed and rolled lazily in her head, as her jaw hung uncomfortably loose.

Things began to escalate quickly once Neutral hit Record in his phone. Good was first. And as always, was gentle. Unfastening his belt, he lowered his jeans, and produced his rapidly hardening cock, giving it a few lazy strokes as he moved down onto his knees, and began crawling into a position to mount her. "I'm really sorry, this won't take long...I promise I'll be quick about it, sweetheart...I'll try to make this enjoyable for you..." He whispered the words softly into her ear, his breathing was trembling as he lined his cock up with her exposed pussy, surprised and encouraged to find she was actually wet. She lifted her head once again, her eyes soft and empty as they gazed up into the lenses if his glasses, tears begining to well up in her eyes, before falling down her face and blending in with the rain. "S-stop....I...."

Meanwhile, kneeling down behind her, Bad had opened his toy box, an old aluminium tool box that had been "signed" with the bloody finger prints of his victims. sliding his finger tips across a series of cutting implements and hammers, he took his time deciding what he would use for her, ultimately deciding that any fan of his deserves to get an autograph...cut into their flesh. He shifted his position slightly, so his knees pinned her shoulders to the messy carpet, once again bringing a finger up to his face to shush her whilst Good began entering her body.

Neutral stood leaning against the wall, watching the two of them have their fun. The concept of going near that wet patch of carpet was giving him hives, but the act of watching his counterparts drug and rape an innocent bystander for blackmail materials was just another day for him. Even when Good started to become more desperate in his thrusts, panting softly and whispering his apologies, Neutral couldnt stop his body reacting as his own cock stirred and pulsed in his pants.

"I'm nearly....nearly done, dear, just keep still....it's ok, it's nearly over....I'm sorry...." Good's breath hitched in his throat as his first shameful orgasm pulsed through him, slamming his hips down into hers and filling her warmth with his own. He shuddered as she lay there motionless, sickened by his enjoyment of her soft and delicate whimpering, and the feeling of her insides clamping down on him to resist as she sobbed silently beneath him.

Bad relished in watching her face during all of this, tilting his head in morbid curiosity as his eyes scanned over her pained and miserable features. She looked so pretty like this. They always did. Good was done and Bad was eager to leap on his next meal. His muscles tensed and his back arched as he began to rise to his feet. But as Good pulled out of her, and stood up to distance himself from his own mess, Neutral stepped in, holding a hand up to bad to stop him for a moment. "No....give her a break first...."

Bad huffed behind his mask, his knuckles turning white as he clentched his chosen blade in his fist. The glare he shot at Neutral was acidic enough to burn through tungsten, but he did as instructed, freeing her shoulders of his body weight and standing over her. "Move her somewhere more comfortable....this floor is disgusting." He spoke casually, as if he hadn't just watched good rape her. Taking his phone, he paused the recording, and assisted in dragging her body further back into the basement, into a darker corner away from where the librarian lay.

"Don't be afraid...I'm not going to hurt you like the others will...but I need to prove a point..." Neutrals tone was flat. Like he was reading instructions off a manual. Even as he lowered himself onto his knees into a position straddling her chest, he was composed and emotionless. Unfastening his belt, he tossed his phone to Bad. "I'll be done soon...don't worry..."

Bad smirked behind his mask and restarted the recording as Neutral began stroking his cock. It didn't take long for him to get hard, especially watching her tears begin to run down her face. "That's it...make it look good for the camera..." Behind his mask, Neutral bit his lip. The feeling of his balls resting against the softness of her tits as he jerked off over her had him shuddering slightly. "Please, I j-jus-" Neutrals hand came down hard, slapping her across the face with his free hand, before moving it to grip her by the hair. "I'll fucking ask when I want you to speak..."

She lay there's, silently sobbing as Neutrals cock was pumped aggressively inches from her face. Though he wasn't cruel, Neutral enjoyed humiliating his hostages. He cooed softly, tutting as he smeared the precum leaking from his cock onto her face and across her eyes. "That's it...keep struggling, I'm getting close...." For the first time since they had entered the shop, Neutrals composure was slipping. There was a violent desperation in his voice now as he rapidly jerked himself closer and closer to climax. "Open your fucking mouth and ask nicely...be a good little whore for Bad"

She let out a soft whine as he pulled her hair, angling her face up towards Bad and the camera. "Beg your family to forgive you.... apologies for being such an eager little victim..." She swallowed hard, earning herself a slap for hesitating against Neutrals orders. "P-please m-mister....please cum....i-i'm sorry I'm such a p-pervert online....I'm s-sorry th-that I asked for this..."

Neutral let out a satisfied grunt as his orgasm hit, spraying his load across her face and tits as she looked up into the camera. She flinched and sobbed as each rope of his heavy load landed on his skin and mixed in with the rain and tears already covering her body. "hmm....there's a good little whore...ok Bad, she's all yours..." Neutral quickly regained his composure and stood up, tucking his cock back into his pants and dusting carpet lint off if his clothes and pants. "take the camera. Me and Good will get the car ready...I think we're done here".

As Neutral turned around, he came face to face with Good, who was stood, arms crossed, frowning at Neutral from behind his glasses and mask. "You're a psychopath, you know that?" Neutral simply waved him off and pushed him towards the front of the library, leaving Bad alone with their new victim.

From her place in the ground, the hostage watched as Bad casually picked his chosen blade up again, before squatting down and once again holding the young girls phone in his hand. Offering it to her, he revealed he had her blog open. He scrolled through for a moment, pointing out all the times she has unknowingly reblogged from his own blog. How he has been following her blog for a while. They were even mutuals. He smiled silently to himself as the realisation and fear began to creep into her eyes. Once more, he held a finger up to his lip, before moving the blade down to her skin.

"please don't, don't do tha-aaah!" Her words were cut short as Bad found a place on her exposed thigh, gripping the flesh with his free hand and spreading it thin for a cleaner cut, as he began to draw the blade across her skin, cutting into her. She struggled. She screamed. But it was all white noise for him. Even as the blood began to gather against the webbing of his fingers and collect under his finger nails, he continued, until his mark was complete. A small skull, encircled in a heart. His forever. And her forever reminder of him.

Satisfied with his work, he could begin focusing on his fun. He moved the blade, still dripping with her blood, up to her face, and pressed the edge of it firmly against her cheek bone, as he began to aggressively pull apart her legs, placing them on his shoulders and leaning forward to trap her, folded in half, beneath his body weight. She looked so pretty like this.

He was rough with her. Forcing his cock into her ass and relishing in her screams as he smashed his hips into the back of her thighs. He growled and huffed in an animalistic fashion as he gripped her legs against his body and pulled her body back and fourth to meet his aggressive, stabbing thrusts. It hurt for a moment before her body and brain began to melt. Soon her useless, doped up struggling stopped, replaced only by the whining and pained moans escaping her mouth as he pounded into her.

"ah....ah....ah..." She lay there helpless beneath him, gazing up into the eyes of the stranger she had lusted after privately. Even now, bleeding, bruised and on the verge of unconsciousness, she could feel the insides of her pussy heating up and warming up to her rapist, as Goods cum leaked out of her and down into her asshole, lubing up Bads cock as he fucked it deeper and deeper into her suffering ass hole. This wasn't desperation or humiliation anymore. This was Bads reward for the hard work he had done earlier in the day with the librarian. This was him claiming a worthy victim. This was Bad giving his fan something to remember. Even now as he got lost in his own pleasure, the knife held to her cheek began to cut into the side of her face as his thrusts became more and more feral.

"s-stop....stop I'm gonna...." She whimpered helplessly, letting out a pained and shameful moan of twisted ecstacy and sobbing as her eyes were locked onto his. She was cumming. She was experiencing an orgasm from being the free use doll of a sick and murderous stranger. He let out a sinister chuckle, feeling the muscles of her asshole tighten around his cock as he rutted into her harder. Her pleas for mercy only encouraged his desire to make her feel pain, knowing she has just exposed her own enjoyment on camera.

He didn't even warn her when he reached his climax. He didn't slow down or stop or grunt. He just fucked into her harder and harder as he sprayed the contents of his balls against the insides of her ass. His cock throbbed and pulsed angrily as each, solid thrust delivered more and more of this bastards cum into her tight virgin body. She was fully used. Covered and filled with the cum of strangers. All of it caught on camera.

Satisfied, Bad pulled out, and shifted his body to lay in the ground next to her, once more opening her phone up and gripping her by the hair, he posed next to her, knife to her throat, and took a selfie. He tapped on the screen for a moment, captioning the picture, before dropping her phone to the ground beside her and standing up. He collected his gear, gave the librarian another harsh kick to the ribs, before gently and affectionately russling the poor girls hair, and leaving the library to join his partners in the car outside.

She lay there, broken and used for a while, letting the feeble half dose of chloraphorm wear off. Once the strength had returned to her body, she sat up and checked her leg where Bad had cut into her, wincing in pain as she shifted to stand up. Collecting her phone, she opened it to check the photo Bad had taken of them. She didn't even need to open her camera roll, as her lock screen had been replaced with the selfie he had took.

The caption simply read "Fan Service".

[lackingspace]

Admonish(Feyd-RauthaXReader)

Chapter 2

Rated: M Word Count: 3.7K Summary: A summons from House Harkonnen is unlikely but never improbable. Warnings: More exposition. Nothing other than talking shit about the Harkonnen. Author Note: Feyd's still bothering me, so take this. ✧

Prev Ch: Pernicious

AO3 link: Admonish

Next Ch: Scurrilous

The transport was surprisingly warm. Which came as a surprise because that was an unnecessarily expensive add-on amenity. Space was cold. There was no way around that fact. The Guild kept the standard transport temperature above freezing, but not by much. 

It wasn't comfortable for most, but with proper clothing, it was generally tolerable for the few hours trip. The other option available— at an exorbitant upcharge— was the use of our thermostabilizing technology.

As a general rule, Ezhariens never purchased the upgrade. Travel to and from Erif IV was already surcharged when leaving your House's compound port. The only exception was the tropics near the equator. The temperate weather didn't require the fee, but leaving ports anywhere else on your planet caused ships to work harder– which meant more frequent maintenance and a more expensive trip. 

Adding insult to injury of stacking surcharge onto surcharge wasn't cost-effective in the Jarl’s eyes. So we all forgo heat.

Ice was our birthright after all and the low temperature was still bearable. You disliked the practice of charging for heat, but you understood the guild was a business and it cared little for humanity beyond what it could squeeze out of it.

The Baron had seen fit to add it to your passage. It wasn't the only amenity either— a meal and drink service were waiting upon your arrival. Another splurge you were happy for, but typically went without. 

The journey would take half a solar cycle and you were going to enjoy the transit for all its worth. This may be one of the last moments of secured peace you had. Giedi Prime was capricious, just like its ruler. And you weren't stupid enough to believe he'd done this out of the goodness of his heart. 

A snigger left you at that idea. The Baron and goodness in the same sentence was a naive notion. There would have to be good in there to begin with. 

No, this wasn't actually about your comfort. This was another move in politically courting you. If you were weaker-willed the idea would have caused bile to make an appearance.

But you weren't a stranger to how people such as him played the game. This was an attempt to place you in a favorable mood– win your good graces. Whatever reason he had for requesting your presence, he wanted to do everything to ensure your answer was yes. 

Your father's instinct had been right. 

As you sat in the spacious accommodations afforded to you, sipping a Corelian wine and picking at the assortment of dishes, your father's reaction came to mind. Desil hadn't been wrong about your father being displeased either.

Slipping off into a daydream of remembrance was a good distraction to fill the time. Leaning into the plush seating you thought back to why you were sitting here alone. 

He'd called you to his study even before dinner. The look painting Desil's face was grim when he told you of the bidding. There was no protest from you as your earlier annoyance had significantly subsided— replaced by anxious thoughts of what the Harkonnen, the Baron, could possibly want. 

As you walked the dark halls with Desil, your eyes stared down at the lilac carpet runner. Its lightness provided a nice contrast against the hall's heated black stone. The walk was a mindless muscle memory as your thoughts were preoccupied with your anxiety and what your father would have to say. 

If he was calling you before the family meal, either he was more angry with the development than you'd anticipated or he had pressing questions. Questions that needed to be kept private. Away from the prying ears and gossipping mouths of your mother and aunt. 

After rounding another corner, the office door seemed to taunt you at the end of the hall. The black paneling of the door itself blended in with the rest of the compound walls. It was only distinguished by the decorative embossing of three silver roses– our heraldic symbol marking it as a room of import. 

Whatever mood you found him in, you would need to steel yourself for the unpleasant possibility of some plot that's been kept from you until now. You weren't unknown to Bene Gesserit workings and there would be little shock to hear they had a hand in something such as this.

Though, it was common knowledge the Baron had not taken one for concubine nor did he keep one for truthsayer– unusual for a Great House to say the least. Your own house had a Bene Gesserit Truthsayer on retainer. 

Her name was Niamh, a calculating woman with deep sienna skin and golden eyes. You always found her pleasant to be around, but truthsayers could be unnerving to some. 

‘Maybe that's why the Baron refused one?’ the thought was dismissed as soon as it had formed, ‘Unlikely. It's probably simply that if anyone could manipulate the Baron, it'd be one of the sisterhood.’ your lips pursed as you were almost upon the door, ‘That possibility is controlled if he refuses their presence.’ 

Desil turned about-face when you were within distance for the door to be opened, “I'm instructed to wait until you're dismissed. No one will disrupt.” 

The worry was clear in his green eyes. So expressive in their concern for you that a small pang in your chest cut through the fog of anxiety. Reaching a hand towards his nervously wringing ones, cupping the top of his with gentle pressure, “Desil, it'll be fine.” 

His shoulders dropped if only slightly, “My lady,” he paused searching for the right words, “I'm worried.”

That pulled a huff of laughter from you. It was clear from his demeanor, he hadn't needed to voice it. With the chuckles still chasing your words, you agreed, “So am I.”

They echoed in your mind with more severity as you dropped his hands in favor of turning towards the door and pushing it open, ‘So am I.’

The moment you saw your father, trepidation returned. He sat in front of the crackling fireplace with the message capsule gripped tightly in one hand while a glass of liquor was clutched in the other.

Anger, refracted by the crackling flames, shone bright in his eyes. You could see his jaw clenching as his teeth ground. He was clearly agitated by something, either the letter or the meeting with the Jarl. More likely a combination of both. 

When he saw you, his head began to shake. The action caused the weight of anxiety to settle in your chest. What did that gesture mean? Was he trying to deny something or did the sight of you cause such general disappointment?

Clarification was unlikely without prompting if he was in a mood. Opening your mouth to speak, but he lifted the message in a gesture you did understand. One that meant silence.

His lips curled in disgust as he began to shake the cylinder, “Why do you do this to me?” the weight in your chest became heavier, would have been rib-crushing if it wasn't intangible. Brow crinkling in confusion, you took a hesitant step forward, “Father?”

He threw the message into the flames while tipping his head back in a deep pull from the glass. That was the clearest thing he'd done so far. It was standard practice for missives to be cleaned after their contents served their purpose. He'd gotten what he'd needed from it.

The flames wouldn't be enough to melt the capsule itself, only destroying the seal and the ink would slough off into the flames. The metal would remain with no trace of what’d been sent. Ready to be penned again. 

You wished he hadn't done that in an enclosed space though. It wouldn't shock you if the ink Harkonnen used became toxic upon combustion.

But that wasn't important right now. You wanted answers to his reason behind the question. Desperately so because you didn't quite like the feeling of being assaulted by confusion.

Gulping a few pulls of the bronzy liquid before righting himself only to curl the now free hand into a fist and slammed it into the arm of the chair. His voice was vehement as he questioned, “Do I not give you everything?” 

To hear him so strained and full of anguish had a self-loathing heat rise from the pit of your stomach to stain your cheeks. What were these questions about? It wasn't making sense to the bubbling pit in your mind. Feet gained a mind of their own as you stepped closer. Starting again, “Father?” 

The only answer you received was him knocking back the rest of his drink. Setting the glass on the glossy marble table next to his seat, then in a voice cracked with emotion, “Are you not happy here? Is that it?” 

Surprise ate at the self-loathing. He would believe such a thing? Was this about something other than the missive? Heard some false rumor? Did the Jarl know something? Or give an order Father isn't amenable to? Is that what prompted these strange accusations? 

The last question sank to the bottom of your stomach like you'd plunged into your planet's icy seas. Cold and paralyzing. 

Father rarely became emotional about anything, but something was causing him distress. You couldn't let your own emotions match his if you were to gain anything more than a headache from this.

‘Fortify yourself.’ A reminder to calm was your inner mantra. With a slow steady blink and a deep inhale you thought further, ‘Make yourself arduous. Truth does not ring when impetuous.’ Just breathe. 

Locking eyes with your father the turmoil was clear– the anger that still clung to his demeanor was quickly losing the battle with the desperation on his brow. The fire crackled as the cylinder heated within. The sound added to your calm as you stood straighter than before. 

“Father, I am grateful for all that you give me and perfectly content here with you,” your forceful tone was almost a contradiction, but you continued before he could speak, “Which is why I'm unsure of whatever it is you're alluding to. Could you please be kind enough to enlighten me?” If there was one thing he taught you, it was to be direct if you wanted a direct answer. 

His lips released a heavy sigh, “If you are so happy, then why is that psychopathic Baron threatening to steal you away?” He spat the title like it left a bad taste in his mouth. It probably did. Father wasn't fond of Harkonnen beyond business. He didn't like the carelessness or callousness they treated their own people with.

Then his wording dawned on you and everything clicked.

This wasn't some plot– not one your father was privy to– or an order, rumor, or anything else. This was simply your father perceiving the summons as a threat to your safety from a house he knew gave visceral meaning to the word abuse. 

He had always been protective, sometimes invasively so, but it had never bothered you before— you couldn't really blame him now either. Safety and Giedi Prime were never said in the same sentence. 

Just as well, there was some validity to viewing it as a subtle threat. This wasn't a social function where multiple houses were in attendance, people wouldn't be on their best behavior, and you would not be well guarded.

It would be you and Harkonnen. Their house, their word against yours, their rules. Not to mention the Baron had already breached standard protocol if he was seeking your Suk skills. That didn't exactly inspire confidence.

Father's anger made sense. It wasn't towards you— only that you seemed to be the sought-after prize— but at the Baron for the position he'd placed you in. A sigh of relief as the self-loathing constriction, confusion, and pit in your stomach finally let up. 

As a high-ranking Great House member, the Suk school mediated requests from other Great Houses for your services. A way to maintain social etiquette and boost their claims of imperial conditioning and house neutrality. It had worked just fine…until now.

The Baron saw fit to circumvent that bureaucratic process and use the method more convenient and binding to him. That put your back to the wall so to speak. No wiggle room to refuse.

The seal made it an official ask in the political sphere. The vague request for your ‘skills’ was another clever maneuver on his part. Any backlash he might receive from the Suk School was avoided as the missive didn't explicitly state medical services. But realistically, there was little else that your presence in particular would be warranted for.

‘Something he no doubt knew and took great pleasure in.’ The thought was devoid of the usual bubbling maliciousness as you stared at your father. The only thing registering was resignation of how the Baron played the game. ‘And I'm about to be at his leisure.’

Rapidly closing the small distance, you dropped to your knees in front of your father and placed your hands atop his clenched one. The care he had for you was something you cherished. He might be strict, but he respected you. Only wanting for your safety and happiness. Compassion tugged at your heart as you sighed wearily against his hand, “Oh, Father.”

That was everything he needed for his composure to fully break. With his free hand he leaned forward to stroke your hair, “Not my daughter,” shaking his head as he spoke, “Not my daughter. If it is a Suk doctor the Baron wishes for, he can seek an unaligned one.”

Firelight bounced off his black locks deepening the shadows on his face. He must have shaved that morning because the edges of his beard were uniform. The anger still clinging in his eyes fizzled to embers as your thumb rubbed his wrist. There would be no qualms from you about sending a polite reply of, ‘No, thank you.’ If only it were possible.

It would be both an immense personal and House offense, without answering his call. Once the Jarl heard of this– assuming he hadn't already– you'd be forced to go anyway. 

Ezharien would not risk snubbing Harkonnen.

Lifting your gaze back to your father's blue eyes, attempting a smile, but it was just a sad tugging at your lips, “You know that's not how it works. The call must be answered.”

That stoked the fire back to life and you felt his hand tighten beneath yours, “Absolutely not! The Harkonnen have done us no favors. We should respond in kind.” 

It was an odd turn to be the diplomat between the two of you, “Father,” smoothing your hands over his, willing it to relax, “This is likely nothing more than a request of my profession. It is known the Baron requires frequent procedures and I've been called by other Great Houses in the past. I must go.” 

His fist only balled tighter. He didn't acknowledge you were right aloud, but the next sentence he spat confirmed he knew it was inevitable, “That tyrant thinks he's above due process! And he presumes too much. Already he's made arrangements for your transport– only your transport.” 

With nothing short of a growl he shook his head, “I am not condemning you to suffer a man such as him— or that entire house— unattended. You will take Cleo and the guardsmen.” 

Arrangements? Arrogance or self-assuredness? How smug of the old bastard to dictate when and where I leave.

You couldn't focus on that now however, you needed to reason with your father. Dissuade him from making a smaller, but still egregious error. “I will not be taking them.” You amended. 

Thumping his free hand against the chair, “Do not test me, girl. If there is nothing to be done of your departure, you shall take the protection I can afford you!” 

As aggressive as the gesture was, you weren't moved by it, “Please, Father, be reasonable.” He sneered in response, “This is reasonable.” 

Clicking your tongue in disapproval, you had to contain the amusement that wanted to rise from your chest. Laughter would be extremely inappropriate, but the irony of the situation was not lost on you. How many times have you said that exact thing to him in past disagreements? 

This must be what your father felt arguing with you. Stamping down the feeling in favor of asserting your opinion.

“If I take them, we are insinuating that they cannot protect me or that I need protection from them. Either case leads to a perceived insult that they will no doubt capitalize on.” Father's silent huffs and clenched jaw told you that he knew you were right. 

“We can afford a small faux pas if the Baron can do away with etiquette entirely.” The sharp edge in his voice bespoke his lingering ire. It was your turn to shake your head at him, “We cannot. The Baron is not an idiot and we should do well to avoid giving him any advantage. Our name is protection enough.” 

He lifted his free hand to smooth across his brow, “That is not satisfactory protection.” You purse your lips at his admission in silent agreement, ‘no…it's not....but I must make due.' 

“If I bring Cleo and the guardsmen, it will be taken as a slight and will likely result in their death. They will be collateral I don't want on either of our hands. They don't deserve that death. The Harkonnen cannot harm me the same way.” 

His eyes closed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, “You speak reason.” The begrudging admittance was clear in his voice. Soothing his hand beneath yours as you argued further, “If I'm not mistaken, you said we purchase large quantities of spice from them every month for our attractions in the isles?”

His eyes opened as a brow raised. A slight nod his only confirmation.

“If that's true, why would Harkonnen risk such easy business? They certainly can't afford kanly with Ezharien and Atreides.” your prodding paid off in the form of a frown on his lips, “They're unpredictable. Harm to you could be a risk they think acceptable if there’s some ulterior scheme.”

“Father, we cannot factor the unknowable. A hidden plot is not inconceivable, but we must formulate a response with what we know to be true.” 

Lifting your hands to count upon your fingers as a means to illustrate each point, “I know that if I do not go, politically it is scandalous. I know that if they do harm to me, it has the same result for them. I know it is also grounds for Kanly,” your father was nodding along with each point, “That would certainly be your uncle's response.” 

“I know of Harkonnen propensity to manipulate things to their advantage, but in doing so he reveals part of his hand.” Resting a curled hand beneath his chin your father said in a clipped tone, “Elaborate.”

“There is something he requires that can't be found within his own House. He believes that I have the answers or skills he needs. That provides me another advantage beyond politics or our name.” his face became unreadable for a second before simply saying, “Very good.”

Smiling at his praise, you continued, “Until that purpose is served, I should be relatively immune to their proclivities. If that purpose is quickly completed and I'm detained, I at least know who I'm dealing with. Yes, the Baron is unpredictable– they're all unpredictable, violent, and volatile– but I'm well aware of that. And it's not as if I don't know them.”

The anger and despair had left your father completely, instead, he was gazing at you contemplatively, “If you are detained for anything other than a guild delay, there will be repercussions.” 

“I'm sure the Baron is well aware of that. Which is why I expect things will stay amenable if we don't commit any unnecessary offenses.”

Resignation wasn't something that oft entered your father's demeanor, but the way he sagged back into the chair spoke volumes, “I suppose the youngest nephew has always been courteous enough towards you.” 

The admission all but sealed your victory, “Yes, Feyd-Rautha and I have always been amicable acquaintances.” You couldn't contain the roll of your eyes as you thought of the older brother, “Glossu is benign for the most part. He might forget his courtesies, but Feyd has enough intelligence to correct it.” 

“You shouldn't heckle him that way– you know he prefers Rabban.” The subtle shift of your lips into a smirk was immediate at his chiding and he rolled his own eyes in response to your look, “Daughter, if I'm to send you there, do not harass the Na-Baron. For my own peace of mind, please.” 

You gave him a long look of your own before you caved, “Fine. But I’ve always called him Glossu. It'll be strange.” You would try for his sake though. If it provided him some comfort, it was the least you could promise him.

There was still lingering tension within his jaw and shoulders. The only other thing you could think to do to set his mind at ease was to remind him you could take care of yourself, “Should it come down to it, I'm not defenseless. You made sure of that.” 

The groan he made was pained, “Don't remind me. But should that happen, I'll destroy the Harkonnen myself.” The image that birthed in your mind made you chuckle. Murder wasn't your father's forte, but if there was ever a reason to push him to it, your death would be it. 

You couldn't help but voice the old Erifian threat, “The direwolves will not go hungry.”

A smile graced his lips as he leaned forward to grasp your hands, “When did you become so tactful?”

That finally brought a true smile to your own lips, “It may come as a surprise, but I do listen when you speak.” The laugh he let out was free of his previous worries, “Perhaps it's time I listen more closely to when you speak.” His hand gently squeezed yours as you echoed back, “Perhaps.”