#i love how he and the others fix his hair

[rafesmuse]

the red means i love you — r.c.

pairing: dark!rafe cameron x dark!reader

warnings: 18+ smut, murder, vaginal sex, violence, stabbing, blood, knifeplay (carving), bloodplay, possessive and obsessive behaviour (reader and rafe), fingering, hair pulling, slight spanking, toxic relationship, reader and rafe are both fucked in the head

word count: 5k

summary: in a relationship fueled by hidden obsession and jealousy, you and your boyfriend are more alike than you initially thought.

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You hummed along to the song blasting from your speakers, stretched out on your stomach while absentmindedly scrolling through TikTok, your long nails tapping against the screen. With your boyfriend away on their annual family vacation, you were left restless and bored. Since you started dating him a year ago, you've spent practically every moment together, causing your hobbies and personal interests to gradually fade, along with your sense of individuality. He was the centre of your world, everything in your life revolved around him— you were willing to go to any lengths for him, and you knew he would do the same for you. What you both didn’t know, was how far you would be willing to go for each other.

Yawning while watching the nth slime scoopability video on your TikTok for you page, a notification popped up on your phone— rafe_cameron posted a new picture! You instantly tapped on it, having notifications turned on for a reason only to find a photo of your boyfriend on a yacht, clad in nothing but his blue swimsuit. Fuck. His defined abs, the tight shorts showing his bulge through the fabric, his hair messy and slightly wet— you instantly felt an ache between your legs, prompting you to rub your thighs together.

Though it had only been a few days since you had last seen him, his absence weighed heavy and the picture didn’t help. You found yourself analysing every single detail of the picture, but your focus kept going back to his bulge as you could practically feel his cock filling you up so perfectly like he does every night again, except for tonight. You were desperately craving his touch, and just as you were about to reach your hand into your shorts to relieve the achy feeling, your mood was ruined when you checked the comment section.

oliviaprentiss4: looking good Cameron! 😍

Bang. You threw your phone aggressively at the wall while letting out a piercing scream as your breaths grew shallow and fast, anger coursing through your veins. Fucking bitch. Of course it’s Olivia, who goes after your man every chance she gets. Despite Rafe's constant assurances that she's just a friend and nothing more, as a girl yourself, you can't help but notice the subtle flirtations — the way she twirls her blonde locks while gazing up at him with fuck-me eyes whenever they talk. You're not stupid.

You fixed your gaze intently on the wall, attempting to collect your thoughts and calm your breathing as a plan dawned upon you. Swiftly grabbing the lip gloss from the bedside table next to you, you hastily reapplied it before gathering your phone from the ground and switching to the camera app. You raised your phone in the air, pushing your tits up and pulling your top down just a tad bit, leaving nearly nothing to the imagination as you snapped a few pictures while switching poses.

Brandon is gonna fucking love these, you thought to yourself while scrolling through your camera roll, referring to a fratboy you met at a party before you started dating Rafe. You hooked up with him once, seeing him as nothing more than just a one-night stand, but he became obsessed with you after that— replying to your Instagram stories daily and asking you to hang out at least once a week. You knew he would comment if you posted a few sexy pics, and you were right.

brandontheman: cute top, but im more interested in whats under it ;)

You bit your lip as an amused but sinister smile spread across your face, knowing it would infuriate Rafe. Clicking back on his profile to check the new picture once more, you noticed new comments had been added. Your smile abruptly vanished as you glanced at Rafe's comments section again, feeling the anger that had started to subside returning with force.

rafe_cameron: @ oliviaprentiss4 Thanks liv.

Liv. He fucking calls her Liv. Fucking asshole. You muttered curses under your breath, fists clenching as your breathing quickened and your jaw tightened again. He could've simply ignored her. Or deleted her comment. Or blocked her when you started complaining about the bitch four months ago. But no— the fucking idiot calls her Liv, for everyone to see, including you.

With hands trembling from sheer rage, you redirected your attention to your phone before switching profiles. rafe_cameron. Now, you wouldn't exactly label yourself as toxic for having his profile logged in on your phone. You're just, you know, keeping an eye on him, with the best intentions after all. Even though he was unaware that you peeked into his phone to get his password when he was showering. Hmm. Okay, maybe you were a little toxic, you can admit that much. But being toxic means being smart so you went to settings and disabled notifications, ensuring Rafe wouldn’t suspect a thing before tapping on his chat with Olivia.

As you scrolled through the chat, nothing new caught your eye, which didn't come as a surprise given that you checked his profile on a daily basis. It was the usual— Olivia showering him with compliments whenever he posted a picture of himself, and him graciously thanking her. You shook your head in disbelief, your jaw tensing with anger at his consistent responses to her. She was a big problem— a serious threat to your relationship, and you desperately needed to get rid of her. You took a deep breath, hoping your plan would succeed, before typing out a message.

rafe_cameron: hey liv.

oliviaprentiss4: hey rafey!

Rafey. Oh, this bitch really wants to die.

rafe_cameron: my girlfriend is out of town tonight. wanna come over?

oliviaprentiss4: sounds good! I’ll be there at 9!! 🤍

Not a girl’s girl, huh? You scoffed at how easily she agreed to a man cheating on his girlfriend, yet a small smile tugged at your lips as it seemed that your plan was starting to take work. Now you just had to figure out how to get inside Tannyhill, but let’s be real— breaking in is the easiest part of it all.

The moon hung low in the sky, casting eerie shadows across the Cameron’s estate except for a few lights that you hastily switched on when you arrived five minutes before nine. It was quiet; the only sounds in the eerie mansion were the ticking of a clock and a few birds chirping outside.

You were impatiently sitting on the couch, waiting for Olivia, with your knee bouncing up and down— not from nerves though, but rather, excitement. A wicked grin spread across your face as you heard the doorknob turn, followed by cautious footsteps on the wooden floor. Olivia gasped audibly when she spotted you, her face flushing bright red as she stumbled over her words, too stunned to articulate a coherent sentence.

“I- Sorry, Rafe said- I mean. I thought you wouldn’t-“ “You thought what, exactly? That you could fuck my boyfriend without me knowing? God, you really are such a stupid, fucking bitch.”

Your words hit her hard, causing her to freeze in place as she fiddled with her fingers nervously. She realized she fucked up bad when she caught the insane, psychotic glare in your narrowed eyes, which was filled with unmistakable hatred directed at her. It sent shivers down her spine— she came to the stark realization that you were more than simply a jealous girlfriend; she was fearing for her life.

You rose from the couch and marched towards her, causing her to take steps back in panic, her eyes widening in terror. But you were quicker, consumed by rage. She cried out in agony as you seized a handful of her blonde hair, and violently hauled her towards the ground until she smashed into the floor with a loud thud.

“Tsk, so many men, and still, you had to choose mine. Dumbest decision you could make, Liv. And you’re gonna fucking regret it.” You hissed as you straddled her. She slowly opened her eyes, feeling disoriented from her head hitting the floor as she confusedly gazed up at you. It was over for her. You knew it, she knew it. The poor girl gulped when you took a knife out of your back pocket— the pocket knife that Rafe bought you to defend yourself from men. Oh, if only he knew. Thank you baby, best present ever.

“Here’s what I’m gonna do. I will use this cute little knife to stab you, okay? Not just once though, no, there’s no fun in that.” Now, this was the moment where she broke down in tears, pleading for you to let her go. You revelled in the sense of power, devoid of any trace of empathy, as you observed the girl's panicked state with streaks of mascara running down her face. What the fuck did she expect? It’s the consequences of her own actions.

You gripped her face tightly, sharp nails pressing into her skin as you forced her to meet your gaze, her eyes wide with fear and brimming with tears as they met yours. She was frozen in place, paralyzed by an overwhelming sense of dread. “Hey, hey, just shut up for a moment and let me do my thing, okay? This is my moment and I can’t have you fucking it up. I’ve been looking forward to this.”

You paused and slowly closed your eyes, savouring the momentary bliss until Olivia interrupted you, prompting an irritated exhale and forcing your eyes to reopen. “Let me go, please! I wasn’t even gonna do anything with him! I promise!” she attempted and pleaded for one last time, despite knowing deep down that it wouldn't change anything. Your hatred was too strong, as evidenced by your eyes— the psychotic look on your face caused goosebumps to form all over her body.

“You think…” you started, breath quickening in growing anger as your jaw tensed, shaking your head and snickering in disbelief, “…you can fucking LIE TO ME?” you screamed before raising the knife in the air, not wasting any more time as she only fuelled your rage further, followed by bringing it back down, right into her chest next to her silver necklace with the letter ‘O’ attached to it. She let out a piercing scream out of agony before you quickly pulled the knife out, blood spurting in every direction possible just like in slasher movies, making you forget for a moment that this was real life. You were so caught up in the moment— it felt therapeutic in a way to finally release all of your pent-up rage.

“Don’t” stab. “touch” stab. “my” stab. “man, Liv.” stab, stab, stab.

Your heart raced as you witnessed the life drain from her ocean-blue eyes, a rush of power and exhilaration consuming you as you smiled down at her with a manic glint in your eyes. You experienced a strange sense of peace along with a wave of relief washing over you. Problem solved.

Standing up again, you had to steady yourself as you felt slightly lightheaded with adrenaline rushing through your body. You wiped the remaining blood from your face with your shirt before hearing a faint scream coming from upstairs, making you gasp as your heart beat out of your chest. What the fuck? You were convinced that no one was home, the entire Cameron family on their yearly vacation far, far away.

The screams came to an abrupt halt followed by a loud thud before hearing a person grunt, as if they were struggling while carrying something heavy. Fuck fuck fuck. This was when you started to panic. Whoever it was coming down the stairs right now was about to witness you fully covered in blood with a fucking dead body lying next to you on the floor. It was over.

“Shit man… why’s it never the skinny, short guys she fuckin’ falls for?” you heard a familiar voice complain, making you blink your eyes a few times as you saw your boyfriend descend the stairs while dragging a lifeless body behind him. “…Rafe?” you uttered, making him snap his head to the side, startled by your sweet-laced voice calling out his name.

First, his gaze fell on you, locking his blue eyes with yours, both widening in shock while staring at each other. Oh, he really fucked up, he thought, until he noticed the corpse next to you with the knife in your right hand, fresh blood dripping from it onto the floor. He then turned to face the body he was dragging down the stairs, blinking several times as he attempted to process the bizarre situation.

“Oh shit. We’re like that one Spiderman meme, babe.” you chuckled, cocking your head to the side as you watched the body comically fall down each step with a thud, leaving a trail of fresh blood behind. Rafe looked at you in astonishment, before his face quickly turned into one of absolute fury with nostrils flaring and his eyes narrowing. You knew that look on your boyfriend’s face— he was about to freak the fuck out. “ooohh my god, oh my god… what— what the FUCK are you doing?!”

Your face instantly dropped as you scoffed at the hypocrisy, “What the fuck am I doing? What the fuck are YOU doing?” you hurriedly marched towards him, casually stepping over the girl’s lifeless body with the bloody knife still in your right hand. With your faces merely inches away, you stared into his enraged, narrowed blue eyes before turning your attention to the body resting against the stairs. Brandon. The poor boy has been beaten to death with what you assume Rafe’s baseball bat, which has been sitting in the corner of his room untouched for quite some time, always leaving you wondering why he still had that thing. Well, that question was answered now. Brandon’s face was nearly unrecognisable, it was not a nice sight. He was covered in blood from head to toe, and it was clear Rafe used Brandon’s body to get all his aggression out.  

Your attention was then drawn to the once-white carpet he was standing on, which was now ruined and completely covered in blood. “Oh, and real smart, Rafe. Letting a body bleed all over your fucking carpet. What are you gonna tell your family, huh?” You snorted, taking in the mess that Rafe had made all over the house.

“That’s… that’s what you’re fuckin’ worried about here!? Just… I—  I don’t know, say you were on your period or some shit, jesus.” he rolled his eyes and shook his head, obviously not thinking about the fucking carpet right now as his mind raced with a thousand thoughts while squinting his eyes, still trying to figure out who the body was on the other end of the room.

“Is that— is that Oliv-“ “ON MY PERIOD, RAFE?! I’D BE FUCKING DEAD ALREADY IF THAT’S HOW MUCH I BLEED EACH MONTH, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!”

Rafe briefly closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, attempting to block out your exasperating voice but failing miserably as it was the only thing he could hear at that moment. His breathing accelerated and his eyes narrowed as his frustration reached its boiling point, his vision blurred with a red haze of anger before punching a hole in the wall, the impact echoing throughout the room, sending shockwaves of sound outward. “FUCK! Why do you— why you always gotta fuck things up for us, huh? Can’t you just be a normal fucking girlfriend for once? Jesus fucking christ.”

A normal girlfriend? Your heart shattered into a thousand pieces at his words. Each syllable fell like a knife to the heart, leaving you more vulnerable and hurt. In that moment, you realized with a sense of sorrow that no matter how much you loved him, it would never be enough. Tears from sheer rage and heartache began to well up in your eyes as your grip on the knife tightened. You felt so misunderstood— why couldn’t he just see that no girl could ever love him the way you do? That everything you do is for him?

“I— I did this for you, Rafe, for us. Can’t you fucking see that? She was gonna— fuck—  she was gonna ruin what we have!” you spoke in a trembling but urgent voice, swaying the knife in front of his face as blood splattered all over the walls, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. “I’d do anything for you, you hear me? ANYTHING! Nothing is ever gonna get between us, Rafe. And no one— no one will ever love you more than I do.” His eyes were eerily still, devoid of any trace of humanity, as he stood frozen, listening to your ramblings. It only fuelled your rage more, as you so desperately tried to get it through his head that you did it for him, with the best intentions, but Rafe gave no reaction.

“I just—  I just don’t get it… How the FUCK is this my-“ you continued with tears streaming down your face but gasped when you were abruptly interrupted by Rafe grabbing your face, leaving a red blood imprint on your cheek before pushing you against the cold wall followed by his lips meeting yours in a fervent urgency. His body was pressed against yours with his hand gripping the back of your head, pushing you deeper into him to intensify the kiss as your tongues danced together. At that moment, all your surroundings melted away as you were lost in the overwhelming need for each other.

Because oddly, it turned him on— your insanity turned him on. It stirred a sensation of warmth, a tingling feeling, and a deep sense of gratitude within him. Knowing someone loved him to the point of being willing to do anything for him, even if that meant killing— that was all Rafe needed in his lonely existence, longing for someone to love him with the same intensity he felt for them. Rafe Cameron just needed to be loved.

“You’re— you’re… fuckin’ perfect.” Rafe whispered, his voice laced with an unfamiliar sweetness as his blue eyes intensely gazed into yours. Perfect? You blinked a few times as you shook your head, unable to process the sudden change in demeanour. “W-what?” you stared at him before he cupped your face with both hands, a look of solace and devotion on his blood-stained face. “Listen to me, yeah? ‘m never gonna let you go, I fuckin’ promise that. I’d do anything for you— anything, you hear me? Gonna take good fuckin’ care of my girl, a’ight?”

A relieved smile graced your lips, a chuckle escaping as you found comfort before you leaned in to kiss him once more, the embrace deeper and more intense than before, filled with longing and desire. He pushed you towards the couch, making you stumble backwards while feeling more aroused with each step you took. It was a bizarre scene— both of you covered in fresh blood, hungrily touching every part of each other’s bodies, with two corpses on the floor next to you, still bleeding all over. But that wasn’t any of your concern at that moment. All you cared about was how his skilled hands moved over your skin, making you crave him even more.

Rafe, on the other hand, felt he still had something to prove— as if murdering a man wasn’t enough. He needed you to know how good he could make you feel. He needed you to understand that no man on this planet could treat you better than him. You could see it in his lustful eyes as he pushed you back on the couch, followed by him crawling on top of you and attacking your still blood-covered neck with hungry kisses. The ticklish feeling of Rafe’s mouth made you giggle as the metallic tang of blood flooded his senses, coating his tongue with an iron bitterness that lingered long. He didn’t know whose blood it even was, maybe both of theirs together mixed with yours, by the way he was so aggressively biting and sucking on your skin.

“Mine. All fuckin’ mine. Got it?” he snarled as he withdrew and grasped your face tightly, forcing you to look him into his intense eyes. You agreed with a nod, flashing a naughty smile as you gazed up at him coyly through your lashes. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Don’t wanna go around killin’ the entire neighbourhood.” He growled, before trailing his lips to your earlobe, gently sucking on it as his expensive cologne filled your nostrils. “But I will if I have to.” His voice raspy as he spoke, making you become wetter with each passing second.

“Hm, i don’t doubt that.” You remarked before a moan escaped your lips caused by Rafe’s hand groping your tits under your shirt, massaging them over the laced bra that he bought for you. “But know that I would kill the entire female population of the Outer Banks.” He couldn't help but let out an amused chuckle, still wrapping his head around just how insane his girlfriend truly was. “You’re so fucked in the head, shit.“ he whispered, pulling your bra down and toying with your nipples, making you bite your lip, “Just how I like it.”

Rafe then grabbed the knife from where you had dropped it next to the couch, skilfully twirling it a few times. You observed him with a rush of anticipation, uncertain of his intentions. He slid the knife beneath your top, eliciting a gasp as he swiftly sliced through the fabric, ruining your clothes, before repeating the action with your shorts.

“Rafe, what the fuck!” You hissed in annoyance as he destroyed your clothes. “Those were my favourites! Oh, don’t you fucking dare do the same with my underwear” It was evident he wasn't taking you seriously, the smug smile on his face only grew bigger before he slipped the knife under your bra and cut it open as well in one swift motion.

“Don’t be fuckin’ stupid. You know I can buy you anything you want, yeah?” Your lace underwear was next, leaving you inwardly agitated as he cut the fabric and flung it across the room. Seeing your dejected expression, he released an exasperated sigh. “Stop with the whining. I’ll take you shopping tomorrow, a’ight?”

He seized you by the hips and quickly turned you around, pressing your face into the cushion before you could comprehend what was happening as in an instant, you found yourself face down with your ass up, angled towards him. “Fuckin’ soaked already, huh?” He suddenly grabbed a handful of your hair and raised your head, then stuck his blood-covered fingers into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around his digits with a mixture of blood and drool running down your chin while feeling his clothed boner press against your bare ass. “Yeah— that’s right baby. Lick my fingers clean like a good fuckin’ girl.” You could feel yourself dripping down your inner thighs before Rafe scooped it up with his now clean fingers and slipped them into you from behind, making you let out a hitched breath at the sudden sensation as you moaned his name.

It didn’t take long for his digits to find your g-spot as he skilfully rubbed against it, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Your pornographic moans combined with the wet sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of you made it difficult for him to control himself any longer, so he abruptly pulled out, causing you to whine at the sudden loss of contact. “You bitch! I was so fucking close!” Rafe’s hand reeled back before you felt a stinging pain on your ass, making you jolt forward on the couch. “Watch that fuckin’ mouth if you wanna cum.”

You heard the unbuckling of a belt behind you followed by feeling Rafe’s erection teasing your folds, dragging the tip up and down as his precum mixed with your wetness. Growing increasingly impatient, you tried to push yourself back onto his cock, to no avail as he held your hips firmly. “Aww, poor girl wants it bad, huh?” his voice laced with faux sympathy. “Then beg for it.”

“Rafe just fucking do-“ your words were quickly interrupted by him grasping your hair and leaning down to your eye level. “I said fuckin’ beg for it.”

“Fuck. Please, okay! I need to feel you! Just, please, fuck me” Rafe pushed himself into you in one quick thrust, swallowed by your warmth as he watched his cock disappear into your body. He gave you no time to adjust as he stretched you out completely, causing a brief sensation of pain that was quickly replaced by pleasure. He let out a sigh at the feeling, one hand on your lower back and the other on your hip as he quickly set a brutal pace— deep, erratic thrusts hitting your sweet spots so perfectly. Your nails scraped against the leather of the couch, nearly tearing it apart as you pushed yourself back onto Rafe’s cock, making him grunt at the sight. He massaged your inner walls so perfectly, making you moan his name loudly over and over again.

Rafe suddenly stopped in his tracks, cautioning, “Stay still or this will hurt, like bad, a’ight?”, causing you to furrow your brows in confusion before hearing him reach for the knife once again from next to him, sending a gulp down your throat. You tensed, anticipating the sensation, well aware of what was about to happen, just as you felt the sharp edge of the blade against your delicate skin while he was still balls deep inside of you. “So fuckin’ pretty all covered in blood, shit.” You could feel the letters he was etching into your skin— R.C., his initials. Once he was done, he tossed the knife on the floor before quickly pulling out, causing you to whine at the sudden empty feeling as he leaned down, licking up your blood that was dripping from the fresh wounds, mingling with Olivia's still-stained blood on your skin. “Forever mine.”

Rafe slapped your ass once again, causing you to cry out from the stinging pain of his hand making contact with the fresh carvings on your skin. “Now, where were we?” He slipped into you again as he mercilessly continued his thrusts, strangled noises leaving your mouth at the sudden feeling. He noticed your moans were muffled by the pillow so he grabbed a handful of your hair and tugged it firmly, pulling you back to meet his thrusts.

“Shit, look at ya now. Not so tough anymore, huh?” Rafe groaned as he pounded into you, his brutal thrusts making your eyes roll to the back of your head as your vision started to blur. “Shut— up.” You muttered in between his thrusts, your mind all fuzzy as his tip repeatedly hit your cervix. You clenched around him when he kept hitting that one spot inside you, the pleasure building as you could feel his cock twitching inside you.

You arched your back with your eyes fluttering shut as felt your orgasm approaching. “I’m— I’m so fucking close, oh my god” You moaned out with your mouth agape, nails digging deep into the skin of his arm that was wrapped around your body as the sensation became too much for you.

“Come f’me, doll. Gonna fill you up so fuckin’ good” Rafe’s hand snaked around your body to rub fast circles on your sensitive clit, making you moan loudly as your orgasm abruptly struck you, causing you to clench hard around his cock with buckling knees. All your muscles tensed as you saw stars, a wave of pleasure fully overtaking you with Rafe still pounding into you, chasing his own orgasm. He came not too long after you, slow and drawn-out curses spilling from his lips with his head thrown back as you could feel the familiar pool of warmth fill you up to the brim, completely emptying himself inside of you as his orgasm hit him.

He rode out his high before he carefully pulled out as your chest rose and fell in a frantic rhythm, each breath a struggle to fill your lungs with air while trying to regain your breath. “My pretty, pretty girl.” Rafe praised, staring at your cum-dripping cunt with a grin on his face.

As you opened your eyes, the harsh reality crashed over you like a wave, sending a shiver down your spine at the sight of the lifeless bodies lying across the floor. Panic laced your voice as you turned to face Rafe, desperation evident in your words. "Rafe? What the fuck are we going to do with the bodies?"

His response was surprisingly calm, his tone carrying an unsettling assurance. "Don't worry ‘bout that. I'll take care of it, a’ight?"

The eerie composure in his voice sent a chill down your spine, hinting at a familiarity with murdering that made your stomach churn. "What? How— how do you know how to clean up bodies?"

A sinister smirk crept onto his handsome features, causing you to furrow your brows in confusion and disbelief before his blue eyes stared deep into yours, holding you in their gaze with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. “Princess, what do you think happened to poor Jake last month? And Dylan before that?”

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[leviismybby]

You love watching Levi get ready, your eyes follow his movements as he puts his pants on and makes his belt. His back is turned on you, the scratch marks on his skin from last night make you smile slighty. He walks over to the chair, taking his shirt and putting it over his head before turning to the mirror to fix his hair. In the reflection he sees how you look at him, lying on the bed and leaning on your hand, he turns his eyes back to his hair. Next is his cologne, as always he doesn't put on too much, he never did like too strong scents. Your eyes roam over his body for a quick moment when he starts buckling his uniform straps.

"You done staring?" He turns to you as he does the last strap on his thigh. "Never." You say with a smile as he takes his jacket off the hanger. He slides his uniform jacket on and then looks around. "We ripped another one of my cravats..." Levi picks up a piece of it and you look at the heaborad where there is the other half of it. "And what about it? You can always get a new one. Or buy rope.." His grey eyes shoot to you, his eyebrow raises slightly. "Rope huh? Last time we tried that, you couldn't walk for a week." Playfully you throw a pillow at him. "And whose fault is that?" You say giving him a look. "Mine. And I don't fucking regret anything." He leans in and kisses you before heading to the door. "Oh and name? Be ready tonight. I will be back with that rope."

[tojancy]

‘say my name, boy’ - ft. jjk men

saying ‘ i love you ’ after sex w satoru, kento, n suguru!

ɞ⁺ contains : suguru , satoru, kento x fem!reader (seperate), fluff, slightly suggestive, nuditiy, making out, mentions of sex (obv), not proof-read.

ɞ⁺ w.c : total of 1.4k

SATORU GOJO .ᐟ

Long arms coat you, his skin practically glowing under the soft moonlight. Satoru’s eyes remain shut as he breathes contentedly. Every time you think your boyfriend can’t look any better, he proves you wrong.

You lean to kiss his cheek, bringing a soft smile to his face. Thick, snowy eyelashes remain obstinate, keeping his eyes shut and not looking at you. 

“Are you okay, babe?” Satoru asks after a few moments, breaking the unnerving silence. 

“Hm..? Yeah?” His question confused you.

“You never silent after sex,” His eyes open, leaving you staring into cerulean spherules. “What’s come over my talkative girl? Something on your mind?” His arms tighten over you, pressing you skin-to-skin. 

You giggle once brought close as if it’s the first time he does that. As if you weren’t just having sex with the man. His smile grows at your giggle.

“Not really, I’m okay,” You reassure, but Satoru is less than convinced. You’re always talking about something after going at it. It’s an endearing habit of yours that he’s gotten used to, now finding comfort in. 

“Baby,” he begins in mock sternness, “don’t play with me.”

“I’m not playing, ‘toru,” the syllables come out dragged, “don’t have anything to say, that’s all.”

His expression grows smug, “awh? Was I so good you can’t even speak? How cute.” You roll your eyes at his teasing. 

“You’re so obnoxious, ‘toru,” it’s his turn to roll his eyes. 

A few seconds go by—it’s so easy to lose track of the world around him when you look this angelic. An involuntary smirk fights its way onto his face. “God, you’re so in love with me. Can’t blame you, I’m so perfect.” 

“Oh, shut up, will you?” you chuckle, forehead pressing against his own. “You’re delusional.”

“Please,” he scoffs, responding with sass. “Allow me to prove my point.”

His lips come towards you at an agonizingly slow pace. It’s as if he’s torturing you on purpose, which he probably is. His lips close upon yours softly.

His kiss is electricity, it’s fireworks, it’s a bomb. You’ve been with Satoru for so long, yet his kisses never cease to leave you in a state of bliss.

“‘Love ya, baby,” He says with a soft smile.

“Huh?” You quirk a brow, fighting back a giggle. 

“What?” He’s confused. What did he do wrong this time?

“Say it right, Satoru,” you demand, landing playful taps on his face. “Who loves me?”

“Oh— I love you,” he nods, “Satoru Gojo loves you, my charming, beautiful, gorgeous woman.”

“That’s more like it,” you grow giddy. “ I love you too,” your words come out whispered, moving to press another kiss to his lips.

KENTO NANAMI .ᐟ

“Are you okay, my love?” kento whispers to you, fingers holding your face by the chin and forcing your face to look over at him. 

You hum, fixing your body to fit into his arms. Resting your head over his chest. kento chuckles; you’re not this clingy. But there’s some sense of serenity that washes over you every time he ‘makes love’ to you. It makes you quite lovely, in his eyes at least, more than your regular self. kento would never admit how he wishes you cling to him on a regular basis.

His lips land on the top of your head softly, pressing a soft kiss there. He keeps his head in your hair, smelling your aroma. Sure, you’re sticky with sweat and other… bodily fluids. But that doesn’t make him like you any less.

“Wanna take a bath?” He whispers into your hair, warm breath fanning over your scalp. 

“No…” You manage, voice barely audible. Your words vibrate through his very being. One finger mindlessly traces soft circles on his chest, making him feel slightly ticklish. He doesn’t move, though. “Can we keep it to the morning?”

“You sure?” He mutters with a chuckle. You’ve done this before. kento knows you hate morning showers, but you also hate the feeling of water on your body after sex. And every time you have a morning shower, you end up wishing you had it the night before. “Not gonna change your mind in the morning?”

“Promise,” you lie, knowing full well you are going to regret making this choice. “‘M too tired to move.”

“Okay,” the blonde man nods. He allows you to make this choice. After all, he’d hate to leave your arms, too.

“Kento..” you call after a few moments of peaceful silence. He hums attentively, sensing a question coming his way. “Can you say it?”

“Say what?” He looks down at you. Your head moves, craning your neck so your eyes can meet his own. He stares at you with love, love you thought he was incapable of feeling a few years back. 

The way you look at him is enough answer. He knows what you mean, and it’s almost amusing. It’s adorable how you seek his affection so… bluntly.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he whispers, his tone low and sensual. “You already know that.”

Using your elbows for support, you help yourself to lean up to him, pecking his lips softly. “I love you too, Kento. So, very much.”

“I know,” He smiles, eyes fluttering between your eyes and your lips. 

SUGURU GETO .ᐟ

“Suguuuuu’” you whine when your black-haired lover moves out of your grasp, about to stand up. “Come backkkk”

Suguru chuckles—it’s a hoarse sound, yet the amusement in it is unmistakable. He’s still somewhat out of breath. He doesn’t comply, though. “What’s wrong? Can’t let go of me for a whole minute?”

“You’re mean,” you huff, sitting up straight. The blanket that covered you slips down and lands over your hip. Suguru’s eyes trail down against his well. He can’t help it, you look so divine, the dim light illuminating your body in all the right ways. 

“I’m mean for wanting to get dressed?” He raises a brow, scanning the room for the discarded pants. Your teeth tug at your lower lip at his physique. You’re not sure how you landed a shot with this gorgeous man, but you’re more than grateful. You avert your gaze, though, not hoping to jinx your luck. “Crybaby.”

A string of complaints leaves your lips, none audible enough for him to make out. You turn your back to him, pulling the covers up your body. Suguru rolls his eyes as he pulls his pants back on.

“You’re so sensitive,” The mattress dips under his weight, the blanket moving over your bare skin when he gets under it.

Warm digits trace your waist, careful as if you would break under any form of pressure. Goosebumps ripple across your skin, spreading like wildfire at the sensation of his warm breath near your ear. 

He presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, bringing you closer to him by the waist. His fingers rub your belly lovingly. “So soft… so warm.”

Your heart throbs at his whispered words, feeling your thighs tighten slightly. He has such a way with words. You’re well past spent, but he still finds a way to turn you on again. You hum under him, leaning into his warmth.

“Stop teasing, Sugu’, you–” You begin, turning your face to meet him. The look in his eyes makes you stop. His face is living proof there’s a god—there’s not a hint of doubt in you that his face was sculpted by the hands of an angel. 

“Hmm? What were you saying?” He smirks, not moving an inch.

You shake your head. “Nothing,” You snap out of it, looking away. 

“Uh-huh?” A lopsided smirk pulls at the corner of his lips. “Is that really?”

“Yeah,” You insist, turning around in his arms. “Just kiss me already.”

“With pleasure, pretty,” his voice is a tune you never bore of. He leans down towards your face, eyes set on your slightly parted lips. Warmth closes upon your mouth. 

His every move is passionate, prudence long gone. His fingers roam your skin freely, tracing a map he’s long since memorized. His tongue leaps at your mouth, dancing with your muscle. The room is empty but for the lewd sounds of mouths clasping against each other and your low hums.

“S’soft f’me,” he pulls away, remaining close. A string of saliva connects your mouths. You’re a sight to see, all flushed up and breathless while he seems unfazed. “I love you, doll. Y’know that?”

You take a moment to gather yourself before responding with a soft, “’love you too, Sugu’.”

[iceunhie]

[8:06 PM.]

drabble inspired by the little crumb of balladeer we got from the arlecchino animated short because what the FUCK man he's literally my pookie the loml the /gunshot

a/n: can i please put him in my pocket i want to kiss him silly omg my babygirl

"stop looking at me like that."

you don't. you just smile more instead, face practically hurting from your jubilee; and the reason, scaramouche's current attire.

he's dressed up, the rare sight of the oh-so prickly harbinger without his trusty hat, instead almost swallowed up by the fur of his coat's hood.

it's just so endearing that you can't help but kiss him senseless, earning an irritated (but not disagreeable) huff from him, before not-so-subtly pulling you closer to him by your waist when you mention how cold you're getting.

(yeah, he tolerates you—your ass; who was the clingy one here?)

the two of you look ridiculous covered by his gigantic coat, like two cats trying to seek warmth, but something tells you scaramouche doesn't mind at all.

though you're pretty sure you've burnt the sight deep into your retinas by now, you look at him even more just to be sure. "can i not admire my very, very handsome, and cute, and loveable, and amazing lover?"

he bristles up from the comment against your embrace, despite not being cold at all, a strange reaction given that the cold is biting at your face. his cheeks are red like the red around his eyes. "shut up. you should be ashamed of your shamelessness."

you press your mouth shut, or else he'd continue to (fruitlessly) berate you for your idiocy—you don't believe any of it, because this rare initiation of affection by your rarely affectionate harbinger is something reserved for your eyes only.

"don't want to though." you drawl, letting yourself relax against his firm, clumsy hold. scaramouche chases your warmth, withholds it within his grasp and never lets you go. "i should be proud of having such a wonderful lover, no? you look especially handsome today with that coat of yours."

"...i don't know why i put up with you." he snarks, but the gentle hold his hands take over your waist says otherwise.

not that you'd want to, of course. he was so ridiculously contradictory that you can't help but fall even harder for your cynically standoffish boyfriend.

"mhm. i love you too." he shuts his eyes when you fix at his hair to kiss his forehead, making sure to linger just a bit longer. you can hardly resist him, after all.

any normal person this close in the balladeer's line of contact, especially in such a vulnerable position would be annihilated immediately. luckily for you, your status as his one and only partner grants you benefits other people would never get to experience.

like now, as you're granted temporary immunity from the cold of his quarters near the zapolyarny palace, with your bodies sharing in each other's warmth, your boyfriend finding it completely normal and fine almost suffocating you with his tight hold over you in your shared embrace.

really, if he wanted to cuddle, he should've just asked. but since you know he wouldn't be caught dead whispering his desire for your attention out loud (you found that out early on when you woke up to him muttering murmurs of hushed, tender i love yous that still make your heart melt when you think about it when now), you suppose you can indulge him as you always do.

"i heard that today's the succession of the knave." you muse, to which he responds to with silence, to which you'd prefer his constant stream of insults towards the fatui's questionable title bestowments.

instead, all he gives you is a simple hum, opting to bury his face in your shoulder, and you can feel goosebumps raise from the feel of his hair and the fur of his coat. "it's just a ceremony with the jester and that irritating witch. and that captain."

you laugh. he really couldn't hold his tongue when signora was mentioned.

"well. why are you still here, then? should you get it over with before coming back?"

"..." he grumbles something about "being subjected to people he can't tolerate"—you're used to it by now, so you only lift your head and position yourself to put your chin above his head. "it'd be better if i'd stay with you beforehand. it'd save me the early irritation."

you laugh. when will he ever stop talking in riddles? before cradling his cheeks in your palms, pinching them just a bit, earning you a zap that's more warning than threatening. "sure, sure."

end notes i went feral over this man thank u @morkanslily for listening to me scream about him for 15 mins straight in our dms

© 𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐇𝐈𝐄 : do not repost, copy, or plagiarize my work.

[baldval]

heyy! You dont have to do this if it makes you uncomfortable it is a little darker…

can i request overlords finding out that reader selfharms? Like they knew she was unstable but they didnt think that much

thank you!!!

BEING COMFORTED BY HAZBIN!₊˚⊹♡

characters: alastor, vox, velvette, valentino, lucifer, adam

warnings: sad reader, slightly ooc adam (that man is so hard to write omg)

a/n: ik i said i'm comfortable w darker asks, i just don't really feel ok w writing about such heavy/negative topics (especially sh), but don't worry anon, should've added that mb. anyways, i give you hazbin characters comforting reader in return 🫶🫶

ALASTOR:

ᯓ he’s not exactly a ‘sit down and talk about feelings’ type of person

ᯓ but he can tell when something’s wrong

ᯓ and he wants nothing more but to make you feel like you’re on top of the world

ᯓ he sees your pouty face when you get home

ᯓ “hey, darling, come look,” he says

ᯓ he’d been at work when you’d left

ᯓ so he’s had some time to figure out what to do for you without making it seem like he’s prying

ᯓ he’ll ask you about what’s bothering you once you’ve relaxed

ᯓ he plops down on the couch, dragging you with him

ᯓ your favorite movie is paused on the tv, waiting to be played

ᯓ “i found an extended version. with bloopers and deleted scenes and everything,” he murmurs

ᯓ the entire movie, his hand is rubbing up and down your back

ᯓ his fingers sometimes creep up your neck, playing gently with your hair

ᯓ the entire thing is extremely soothing

ᯓ you know he knows something’s wrong

ᯓ and you also know he’s going to do everything in his power to fix it

ᯓ and you’re so grateful he just loves you

VOX:

ᯓ he doesn’t need you to say anything, ever

ᯓ he just knows what you need

ᯓ when he comes home and finds you in bed early, he knows you’ve had a difficult day

ᯓ he doesn’t know what happened, but he won’t ask until you’re feeling better

ᯓ he changes out of his work clothes and just gets into bed with you

ᯓ when you don’t say anything either, he pulls you into a cuddle, one hand pressing your head to his chest and the other cupping your hip

ᯓ “hi, vox.”

ᯓ he peppers your face in kisses

ᯓ “feeling off?” he asks

ᯓ you nod

ᯓ his fingers go to stroke your jaw

ᯓ “you can talk to me, you know. i want to make it better,” he tells you

ᯓ so you tell him everything

ᯓ whatever the issue was, the next day, he’s found some way to solve it

ᯓ just for you

ᯓ anything for you

VELVETTE:

ᯓ the minute you come home from work, exhaustion and misery rolling off of you in waves, she demands to know what’s wrong

ᯓ “is someone bothering you? is it your boss again? because i can get him fired.”

ᯓ you tell her everything

ᯓ she promises to help you with whatever it is that’s causing you trouble

ᯓ she’d tip the earth off it’s axis if you asked

ᯓ “come here, i want a kiss,” she tells you

ᯓ you very happily oblige

ᯓ she spends the entire night just spoiling (and worshiping) you

ᯓ the sheets of your bed are tangled between both your legs

ᯓ you’ve never felt more loved

ᯓ she murmurs about how your aniversary is coming up

ᯓ and tells you to get your nails done and dress pretty

ᯓ you don’t really know how you got here

ᯓ but you’re not upset

ᯓ you smile up at the ceiling, delightedly dazed

ᯓ you don’t even remember why you were upset

VALENTINO:

ᯓ he feels what you feel

ᯓ and at this point he can never leave you alone

ᯓ he NEEDS to be with you 24/7

ᯓ so naturally it’s like he’s dying when you come home looking upset

ᯓ “hey, no kiss hello?” he whines

ᯓ that manages to get you to laugh

ᯓ he smiles at your smiling

ᯓ you go over to kiss him and he catches your wrist before you walk off

ᯓ “no, c’mere,” he insists

ᯓ he tugs you into his lap and winds his arms around your waist

ᯓ he sets his chin on your shoulder

ᯓ “why’re you upset?”

ᯓ “oh, it’s nothing, val.”

ᯓ “bullshit.”

ᯓ you spill

ᯓ he rubs circles into your hip bone

ᯓ “i’d be upset, too,” he admits

ᯓ he kisses all up your neck

ᯓ “but we don’t have to think about that at all now. can we just spend some time together? i promise, though, if you’re still having problems i’ll gladly fuck up as many lives as you need.”

ᯓ you laugh, making him laugh

ᯓ you spend the rest of the night just sitting there talking to him

LUCIFER:

ᯓ the two of you are watching your current show, as you do every night, and he notices you’re zoning out

ᯓ he pauses it and looks down at you

ᯓ he dots a couple kisses over your brow

ᯓ “everything okay?”

ᯓ “rough day…”

ᯓ “why didn’t you tell me?”

ᯓ his expression is one of concern now, yet still absolutely laden with affection

ᯓ “i’m sorry, i’m not trying to keeping things from you or anything. i just don’t want to bother you.”

ᯓ “i want you to bother me. say everything that comes into your brain, i want to hear it.”

ᯓ he pulls you closer, palm smoothing over the back of your neck as he sets your head against his chest

ᯓ you tell him about your day, and how you were getting so frustrated

ᯓ frustrated everything was going wrong today, frustrated that the entire week was going wrong

ᯓ he listens intently, stroking your hair the entire time

ᯓ he gives soft “mhms” and “of courses” at your words

ᯓ he peppers warm kisses all over your face

ᯓ he does his best to give you a solution

ᯓ even if what he suggested doesn’t work, he’s sending you flowers to your house for the next week

ADAM:

ᯓ he’s a little confused, but he’s got the spirit

ᯓ he’s a little nervous to ask what’s wrong

ᯓ he’s afraid he won’t know what to do to make you feel better

ᯓ “hey, uh, everything okay?”

ᯓ you shrug

ᯓ “wanna talk about it?”

ᯓ you tell him everything

ᯓ he nods the entire time, his eyes never leaving your face

ᯓ he’s trying to memorize everything you’re saying

ᯓ he doesn’t really have any great solutions

ᯓ and he kind of hates himself for it

ᯓ he wants to help you, even if he doesn't make it obvious

ᯓ “hey, how about we go out tonight? take your mind off things.”

ᯓ you spend the night at dinner then wandering through a night market

ᯓ you both talk nonstop

ᯓ he gets you a bunch of trinkets

ᯓ just things that remind him of you

ᯓ and a bracelet, too

ᯓ he spends a bit of time fiddling with the clasp, eventually hooking it together and letting it sit on your wrist

ᯓ you don’t take the bracelet off

ᯓ ever

ᯓ at home, he’s worried you’re still upset

ᯓ but you’re not

ᯓ you fall asleep curled up against him, your worries now nonexistent

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Party Animal

Steve hated parties. And who could blame him? The infamous Halloween party of 1984 left more scars on his heart than he carried from all his other misadventures. Alcohol made people say thinks they buried deep inside, but then instead of owning up to them, they'd say "I was drunk", as if that was any excuse. So yes, Steve and parties didn't go together anymore.

And yet he stupidly decided to throw one anyway.

Look, they deserved it. All of them did - Eddie, Nancy, Robin, even Jonathan and Argyle, they all earned acting like actual teenagers for one evening. Steve wanted to see Eddie, now miraculously his boyfriend, just have fun, laugh, be silly. So a party it was.

It all went great - dancing, drinking, nibbling on mountains of Argyle's homemade pizza - but eventually they all got drunk. Not Steve, he just sipped one beer and kept an eye on everyone. Jonathan and Argyle were smoking outside, Nancy and Robin flirted in the most embarrassing way possible and Eddie...

Steve heard sniffling from the bathroom and his heart sank.

He didn't want to go there. He didn't want to be told that this was all a misunderstanding, that he pressured Eddie with his flirting, didn't want to hear he's bullshit again.

But no matter how terrified he was, he could never abandon Eddie. So he went in.

Eddie was leaning over the sink, wiping at his face and trying to control his breathing. "Shit..." he muttered and turned away from Steve. "Sorry, I...uh. I'll be there in a sec."

"Eddie..." It came out as a whisper. "Are...are you okay? Did I do something?"

Eddie just chuckled and pulled hair in front of his face. "Sure did," he mumbled.

And it made horrible sense to Steve. Of course he was the reason Eddie was crying. He couldn't help fucking up, he'd tried so hard to change but apparently it was 1984 all over again. So he took a deep breath and waited for the final blow.

"You're just perfect, Stevie."

Oh.

That wasn't what being broken up with sounded like. In fact, Eddie didn't seem angry at him at all. "...sorry?"

Eddie laughed, wet and high in his throat. "Like, you...you are too good to be true, you know? You throw a party for us and then you even don't drink so we're all cared for if anything happens? You...you give your best friend a green light to date your ex who shredded your heart to pieces? You invite the guy that your ex cheated on you with and his friend? You're just so good about it. And you're funny and so bitchy that I want to kiss you all the time. And I just...I love you so much, you know? And I've never felt that way about anyone and it's fucking scary, man."

Steve's racing thoughts came to a screching halt. Where he was too busy panicking and praying he'd still have time to fix whatever he did, now his brain settled on maybe I'm not getting broken up with? "So, uh..." he muttered as he watched Eddie try fix his eyeliner, "...there's, like, nothing wrong? Or maybe...do you want me to go slower? I know I can be a lot."

His boyfriend gave an incredulous laugh. There was no salvaging the eyeliner now, it was getting caught in Eddie's early crow feet, and Steve had never seen a more beautiful sight. "No, Steve. You're not a lot. In fact, you're just enough in every single way, but knowing that you're it for me, that good things can happen...it makes me terrified. I've never put all my drugs in a single lunchbox, or whatever metaphor you want to use for it, but with you I'm just throwing all the caution into the wind. And for the first time, I..." he stopped, chewing on his lip, "...I don't want to run away when I mess up. I want to stay, face the music and fix it. You're re-writing the Munson doctrine again and again and I just...I don't want you to settle for me, Steve. You are the whole package and I'm still cleaning all my messes. I guess today showed me that and I...yeah. Sorry about all this," he pointed at his tear-streaked face.

Eddie suddenly seemed so small, so insecure, and that wouldn't do. It woke Steve up from his frozen state and he took a step forward, cradling Eddie's face in his palms. "I'm not. Settling for you, that is." He was probably smudging the black even more, but Eddie would have been beautiful to him even fully covered in grime, and there were more important things to focus on. "Eddie, you keep talking about the Munson doctrine and being work in progress, but you don't see how you've thrown all the stuff I used to do out of the window, and I'm better for it. With you, I don't feel rushed, I don't have to perform or pretend. I can just live in the moment."

As he continued his speech, something strange started happening. Seeing people cry normally had a guaranteed effect on Steve - just one tear, quiet sob and he pushed his emotions down to be dealt with later or possibly never, someone needed him, and that was the priority. But now, staring at Eddie's wet eyes and shaky hands? He felt his own face crumbling and what better place to hide it than in Eddie's Metallica t-shirt. It smelled of cigarettes, pizza and the cheap laundry detergent that had come to mean home to Steve. "Sorry," he choked out. "Shit. I was...sorry, I'm supposed to be...you know. Consoling you. But I heard you crying and I thought...I..."

Eddie shook his head and tightened his grip on Steve's waist. "Oh Stevie. Whatever that pretty head of yours thought of, it's not happening. Unless it's kissing me, which duh, that's happening, if you want to of course, and staying with me to the point that you're sick of me."

Steve just whimpered into Eddie's shoulder, something that suspiciously sounded like "Now who's perfect, huh?"

His boyfriend just chuckled. "I guess that in a way, we both are. Maybe for each other?" If he'd aimed for self-deprecating tone, he failed. Instead, it was hopeful.

Steve didn't answer, but his embrace said it all.

They remained wrapped around each other for a long while, until Eddie whispered in Steve's ear: "how about we let the others celebrate on their own, hm? They won't be driving, their stuff is already in the guest bedrooms, and I hear your bed is wonderful this time of the year."

There was a muffled "yes" coming from Eddie's shoulder, and a few adjustments and "Good night!"s later, they found themselves in Steve's bedroom. Eddie managed to remove most of the rogue eyeliner, which was lucky. The time in the bathroom wasn't the last time he shed a tear that day, because as they were falling asleep, Steve said:

"You might be the first person who is dating the real me, and I'd like you to be the last one as well."

Tomorrow, he'd hold a funeral for the Munson doctrine. But today, he was going to wrap himself around Steve like a cuddly octopus and know that even if he doesn't manage to hold on tight the whole night, Steve would be there in the morning.

[lilsmv1]

orange cat - OP81

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x reader

Summary: What happens your neighbour's adorable orange cat starts to pay you daily visits?

Word count: 1k

London welcomed me with its perpetually gray skies and damp weather, a stark contrast to the sunny shores of California I had left behind. As I settled into my new apartment, I couldn't help but feel a pang of homesickness for the warmth of home.

For the first few weeks, I hardly saw my neighbours, lost in the shuffle of unpacking and adjusting to my new surroundings. But one persistent visitor soon made himself known – a vibrant orange cat that would perch itself on my windowsill, peering into my living room with curious eyes.

At first, I found it amusing, but as the days went by and the cat became a regular fixture, I grew concerned. Surely, someone must be missing their furry friend. So, I decided to take matters into my own hands.

I scribbled a quick note on a yellow post-it, explaining the situation and tucking it under my neighbor's door. "Your cat seems to be visiting me often," I wrote. "Just wanted to let you know in case you're worried."

Days passed, and I received no response. I wondered if my neighbor had even seen the note or if they simply didn't care about their wandering pet.

But then, one evening, there was a soft knock on my door.

Opening the door, I found myself face to face with a handsome young man, his expression sheepish yet friendly. He held a small box in his hands, the smell of freshly baked pastries wafting from within.

"Hey, sorry to bother you," he began, his accent unmistakably Australian. "I'm Oscar, your neighbor from next door. I just wanted to apologize for my cat bothering you. And, well, to say thank you for looking out for him."

I couldn't help but smile at his genuine demeanor. "No problem at all, your cat is lovely, I was simply worried you might wonder where he was" I replied, accepting the box of pastries. "I'm glad to finally meet you, Oscar" I replied, introducing myself as well.

"Do you maybe wanna come in? I can make us some tea or coffee and we could eat the pastries you brought?" I added.

"I would love that!" replied Oscar with a warm smile.

From that moment on, Oscar and I struck up an unexpected friendship. We bonded over our shared love for his cat and baked goods, finding comfort in each other in the big city of London, so far from our respective homes. Oscar told me all about his work as a Formula One driver, and I could not help but be in awe of how passionate he was. I, on the other end, told him about the teaching opportunity that got me to move here, and I would often tell him cute stories from my classroom.

As weeks turned into months, our friendship deepened. Oscar proved to be not only a generous neighbor but also a reliable friend. Whether it was helping me fix a leaky faucet or lending a hand with heavy groceries, he was always there when I needed him.

Our weekly movie nights, whenever Oscar wasn't out of the country, became a cherished tradition, a welcome break from our everyday lives. We'd take turns picking films, debating over classics and hidden gems late into the night.

But amidst the laughter and camaraderie, I couldn't ignore the growing feeling in my chest whenever I saw Oscar. He was kind, funny, and undeniably attractive – qualities that drew me in despite my best efforts to keep my distance.

One day, as I scrolled through Twitter during a lazy afternoon, I stumbled upon something that caught me off guard. Pictures of Oscar, smiling brightly alongside a beautiful girl with long blonde hair.

A pang of jealousy shot through me, surprising in its intensity. I realised then, with startling clarity, that my feelings for Oscar ran deeper than I had initially thought. But it was too late – I was now pretty sure he was already taken, and I had no right to interfere.

Unable to shake off my newfound jealousy, I began to distance myself from Oscar, avoiding our usual interactions and retreating into solitude. But my sudden coldness did not go unnoticed.

One evening, there was a sharp knock on my door, and when I opened it, there stood Oscar, his expression a mixture of frustration and concern.

"What's going on with you?" he demanded, his voice tinged with hurt. "You've been acting strange lately, and I want to know why."

"I'm not" I replied defensively.

"Come on, don't give me that bullshit" replied a rather angry Oscar. "You've been avoiding me. Have I done something?" he asked, his voice laced with vulnerability.

I hesitated, the weight of my emotions heavy in the air between us. But then, with a surge of courage, I found myself blurting out the truth.

"I... I think I'm in love with you, Oscar," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper. "And seeing you with someone else... it hurts more than I thought it would."

For a moment, there was silence, the tension palpable. But then, to my surprise, Oscar stepped forward, his eyes burning with intensity.

"God, you can be so dense sometimes" he breathed

"Hum, excuse me?" I replied, clearly offended.

"The girl you're talking about, that's my new PR manager."

"Oh..."

"I thought I was being fairly obvious as to how I feel about you." he said softly, reaching out to cup my face in his hands.

And with that, he closed the distance between us, his lips meeting mine in a heated and passionate kiss, leaving me breathless.

[munsonsmixtapes]

https://www.tumblr.com/munsonsmixtapes/747871761169793024/does-anyone-have-any-steve-or-eddie-requests

U ASK AND U SHALL RECIVE🫡

Eddie and reader layin in bed, reader half asleep, laying on Eddie’s chest with her leg on his waist(yk like the cute little thing where he’s holding her thigh on him?)

And he’s reading the lord of the rings, and starts muttering aloud, and the reader goes “just read it out loud”

And he’s just 😀 “huh”

then reader goes “you’re already practically saying it out loud, just read it to me”

Eddie swears he couldn’t fall more in love, like he thinks you’re already perfect but your Laying on him, In His bed, In his home, asking him to read you his favourite book?!

He’s going to get a ring tomorrow!

Or just give you one of his and slip it on your ring finger while reading or explaing the plot up to that point🤭

Thanks so much for your request!

Eddie x fem!reader

word count: 1,184

cw: none!

There were many things you loved about Eddie. You loved his sense of humor even though no one else seemed to get his jokes. You loved how smart he was and how he always seemed to have interesting facts on hand. You loved how passionate he was about the things he loved and that he had countless books about it all. But the thing that you loved most about Eddie was the fact that he always seemed to read everything aloud.

Whether it was something he had gotten in the mail or a message he had gotten on his beeper, it didn’t matter. It seemed to annoy everyone else, but it was something that you had grown to really like about him. You wanted to hear his voice any chance you got, even if the words directed towards you. Especially when you were falling asleep and he was reading one of his books. It had become your favorite lullaby.

Lately, though, you had noticed that he had been doing it less and less. He would no longer whisper along with the subtitles on the TV or mumble the words that were written in his books. Everything was quiet, his voice no longer filling the house you shared. You hadn’t realized how much you had missed it until he stopped.

The two of you were snuggled up in your bed on a lazy Sunday. You were snuggled up into his side with your leg draped across his waist exactly where he liked it. One hand was resting your bare thigh while the other was holding his very beat up copy of Lord of the Rings.

You rested your chin on his chest, admiring the way he has his hair tied back and the glasses he always wore to read. He hadn’t even noticed you looking at him, his lips moving as his eyes scanned over the words in his book. He had read it so many times that you were convinced that he could have quoted the entire thing word for word.

His eyes finally locked onto yours and he set his book down, now favoring you. His now free hand rested on your back, leisurely rubbing it, something he always did to show his love for you without having to say the words.

“What?” He asked, looking down at you, his brown doe eyes boring into yours.

“Nothing,” you shook your head. “I just love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he replied, a smile kicking up at the corners of his mouth. “Now are you going to tell me what’s really on your mind?”

Sometimes you hated that he was always able to read you like a book. How he could somehow read your thoughts, knowing exactly what was going on inside your brain before you did. Perhaps that was why you worked so well together. He always knew what you wanted or needed and was prepared to give it to you.

“It’s just-” you cut yourself off, trying to get your thoughts together.

“Hm?” His eyebrows furrowed and his tongue poked through his lips, a telltale sign that he was deep I thought.

“You’re not reading aloud anymore.” A pout made its way onto your face, your lip jutting out. God, you were just so cute.

“I’m not what?” You had said the words so softly that he hadn’t heard the last part. He wanted to know what you were so upset about so he could fix it. He hated seeing you so upset.

“You’re not reading out loud anymore.” You were now straddling his waist, his hands moving to rest on your thighs.

“You’re right,” he nodded. He didn’t think you had even noticed let alone missed him doing it now that he had stopped.

“Why not?” You let out a little whine, your hands resting on his chest. It warmed his heart that you liked hearing his voice so much.

“Well-I guess I just figured that it annoyed you.” He chewed on his bottom lip-something he always did when he got nervous. You were quick to pull it from under his teeth. Your hand rested on his cheek, rubbing along the skin with the pad of your thumb.

“Why would I think that?” You eyebrows furrowed. “I love it.”

“You do?” His hand moved up to rest on top of yours.

“Of course!” You let out a laugh, wondering why he had been so confused that you had enjoyed hearing him reading. “I love hearing your voice.”

“I’m sorry, honey. I was just letting the guys stupid comments get to me. They hate when I do that so I just assumed you did too.” His band mates had complained so many times about him reading their song lyrics aloud and after hearing the complaints so many times, he had just jumped to the conclusion that you had hated his little quirk as well. He supposed he should have asked, but it made him feel too vulnerable despite how long the two of you had been together.

“Well, you were wrong. So you can do it around me as much as you like. In fact, I require it.” At that, Eddie was quick to take you into his arms, peppering your face in kisses as you let out little giggles. He then finally captured your lips between his in a lingering kiss.

“Now read to me, Eds.”

You curled yourself up into his side and he was quick to pick the book up, turning it to the first page so he could start from the beginning. He held the book to where you could see it as well and cleared his throat before he read the first page. One page turned into two and before the two of your knew it, he had flown through the first book and had moved into the next.

You could have stayed right there for the rest of your life and been content. It was just you and your man and his huge stack of books that had been practically begging to be read. You thought Eddie really was meant to read aloud. He put on a different voice for each character and used his hands as he spoke, really enveloping you in every single story he read.

You fell asleep after a few hours, but that didn’t stop Eddie. He continued to read, knowing that if he had stopped, you would have had something to say about it, somehow noticing from your deep sleep. He couldn’t believe that he had actually thought you had hated hearing him read. And that you had loved it so much that you had noticed when he stopped.

He looked down as he started the third book, looking down at you with so much love. He had really lucked out with you. No one had loved him so much that they were content listening to him read when they could have done anything else. At that moment, he just knew that he wanted to marry you and was going to have to take time to go buy a ring.

[sushis-wild-imagination]

Meet the parents (Seungcheol x reader)

Seventeen masterlist <3

Meet the parents part 2

“No, its Shampoo and then washing your body so the shampoo sits in your hair”

You and Cheol, your boyfriend of a 5 months, have been in his apartment, quarrelling about the stupidest thing.

You were both in the kitchen trying to cook something for dinner. Your best and safest bet was pasta and that's exactly what he tried to make. Keyword: TRIED

An abrupt doorbell rang, and you jump.

"Coward" Seungcheol laughs at you as he walks to the door. You stick your tongue out at him.

You heard him open the door. “Mom?”

Mom?!

You run into your room, do a quick fit check, straighten out your clothes and fix your face. Try to make yourself look as presentable as possible in the fraction of a second you got.

You stepped out of cheols room to see his parents walk in the hallway.

Do I look okay? Is my hair tidy enough? Will they let me stay? Should I make an excuse and leave? Im panicking.

All these thoughts come to your head while his parents smile at you. You smile back and wave a little awkward wave.

“This is my girlfriend, y/n”

You were glad he introduced you like that, not that you doubted he wouldn’t, but it felt good to be introduced like that, especially to his parents.

“She’s pretty” the mom says putting her stuff on the couch. You immediately help her with her stuff, taking it off her hands. All you could focus on was to make a good impression.

This is not how you had pictured meeting the parents of the love of your life. Cheol was the best boyfriend youve had and youve even spoken about marriage with each other and it had barely been 5 months. When it’s your soulmate, you just know, and this was exactly that. You’ve seen many relationships go to shit because the girlfriend did not gel with the mother, and you were terrified of the possibility. She seems like a nice lady though.

——

“Do I look okay?” You whisper to your said love of your life, Choi seungcheol in the kitchen now.

“You look perfect, don’t worry” he whispered back.

“He’s cooking pasta? You will have to get your stomach checked later” his mother jokes walking into the kitchen.

“I’ve been getting better! (Y/n) is teaching me! I can do pasta” Seungcheol whines.

“Poor girl, don’t ruin her stomach” his mom teases. It makes you giggle.

“If water was burnable, he’d burn that too” she says as the conversation moves to the dinner table. His mom dissing him every chance she gets is hilarious to watch.

The pasta he made was finally done and brought to the dining table.

His father engaged in some small talk. You were grateful, you couldn’t stand the awkward silences. He asked you the basics, where do you work, how you like it.

“So, do you live together?” His mom shoots at you without warning.

“Pretty much” cheol answers for you to take the pressure off.

“This new way of living together first before getting married is a good trend, it’s easier to see if you’re compatible, that’s good” she comments on nothing specific. Your face is on fire.

Neither of you knew how to respond to that so the conversation died.

“What do you do?”

“Oh Im an AI researcher at University”

They definitely don’t know what that means so the conversation died for the second time, mostly because you were nervous.

His mom accidentally dropped her fork. The sound echoed in the apartment, it was that quiet.

“Mom wait, let me get your a new fork” cheol oddly insists and rushed to the kitchen.

“Y/n, where are the forks?” You hear his voice from the kitchen. It was his acting voice.

He knows where the forks are.

“I’ll help him” you say sheepishly smiling. You get up and go into the kitchen confused.

“How do you not know where the forks are in your own apartment?” His mom calls out from the dinning table.

He motions you to come over to him with just his hand like he has a secret to tell you.

Of course he knows where the forks are.

“What is it?” You whisper.

“They’re going on a cruise next month, ask them about it” he whispers back.

Your cutiepie, your conversation iron man had come in to rescue you from awkward silences. You peck him cheek and whisper a “thank you” becoming excited and running out front.

“I forgot where I had put them, she seems to know where my stuff is better than I do” cheol comes out behind you and hands his mom a new pair smiling foolishly.

He sure acts well.

After some more pauses, you gather the courage to bring up the cruise.

“Seungcheol had told me sometime ago that you are going on a cruise next month, are you excited?” You try to strike the conversation up again.

You see his mom’s expression change to pure joy. You could see the lady was excited.

“Yes! Its a 2 week cruise to the Mediterranean sea”

“Sounds exciting, have you been on other cruises?”

“Ever since retiring, thats all theyve been doing,” seungcheol adds.

“All for her, I wouldn’t be surprised if she buys a ship and leaves me behind here” his dad chimes in and chuckles.

“Oh sure, I’ll go to this next one with my son then, Im sure he wouldn’t mind” his mom says a little annoyed.

“Don’t drag me into your fights”

“My aunt is in administration for one of the cruises, I can ask her for a discount on your package if you’d like” you say.

is that a bribe? Almost. Who doesn’t like discounts.

Luckily his mom’s eyes lit up.

“Maybe you guys can come with us next time as a family trip”

Family trip.

You never got family. You grew up in a broken home and did not particularly understand the dynamics of a working healthy happy family, like the one you’re seeing infront of you now.

Just imagining to be a part of this family was enough to bring you joy. All you hoped and wished that you would fit in well.

The rest of the night, his parents told us all about their cruise adventures and misadventures.

——

“How did I do?” You ask nervously, biting your bottom lip as he turns around after closing the door.

The parents had left, it was a good time, a little nerve wracking but a good time overall.

“You’re perfect” he says snaking his arms around your waist pulling you closer. “Im sorry they came in unannounced, if I knew I would’ve asked them not to”

“Are you kidding? They’re your parents, they’re legally allowed to come unannounced, I was just very nervous”

“Why?”

“I really love you, I don’t want your parents to hate me” you couldn’t stand the thought.

“They could never hate you, my love”

You sigh in relief.

“Although… her impression of you might change if you don’t get her that discount now” he teases.

“Oh I will get her that discount alright, even if I have to scale the earth twice”

He giggles at your determination.

——

Do you want the cruise interaction??? I have a thought starter, I’m so excited

Edit: HERES PART 2

[houserautha]

These Destined Ends

Part 9

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

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: kind of (?) sub!Feyd, oral sex f receiving (there’s an imbalance in oral sex but I promise reader shows him some love too), p in v, “no hands”

A/N 1.0: Two updates in one week?? I probably should edit this more but I’m just excited to release it hehe

Feyd drags his tongue down your navel, dipping into the divot of your belly button to lick out the poison. You’ve taken to creative methods of your daily dosages, the current which gives you shudders of delight. His tongue is warm and wet, his grin roguish, and his dark eyes sinfully gorgeous; there are certain instances when you can hardly stand to look at him, this being one of them. You honestly don’t know what he will see reflected in your own eyes.

His tongue darts out to capture any residual poison from his lips. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. Fine.” You sit up, pulling your shirt back down. Disappointment is evident on Feyd’s face. “Shouldn’t we be going?”

He pulls you to the edge of the table and nudges open your legs so that he might position himself between them. “They’ll wait.”

“We don’t want to anger them.”

Feyd’s tongue rolls in his cheek. “Don’t we?”

“No.” You hop off the table. “Come on.”

“You haven’t taken your dose yet.”

You fix him with an exasperated look. Feyd pours the measurements into the glass, then into his mouth. His expression is comically triumphant. You roll your eyes as you close the space between you, then press your mouth firmly to his.

His kiss is as dangerous as the poison itself, spilling out from his lips and down his chin, down your chin, coating the inside of your mouth as his tongue pushes into it. You greedily kiss him back, poison forgotten. It’s him that you need the daily dose of, a perilous addiction that would render you sickly without. And he pulls you in like he knows this, that it’s only the poison from his lips that you seek.

You withdraw, breathless and wiping at your chin. “Satisfied?”

“For now.”

Rabban is departing today for a political mission, one that neither you nor Feyd are privy to — to his chagrin. You were both requested by the Baron to attend his send off. As you stride beside Feyd to the thopter hangar, the sight of the Baron seizes you with burning hatred.

He floats next to Rabban, muttering something to him that you can’t hear. Both cease their talking when you arrive. Frankly, you don’t know if you want to tear out their throats or leave them to Feyd’s concubines.

Rabban wordlessly boards the thopter. It will take him to a more secure location to be delivered to a heighliner, from your understanding. As you observe the scene with thinly veiled disgust, you notice a commotion to one side — it’s the same Sardaukar soldier from before, along with a handful of others. Today they’re adorn in the typical Harkonnen armor, distinguishable only by the fuzz of closely shaved hair on their heads.

You grab Feyd’s arm, lean into him. “Who are they?”

“Sardaukar. Though I suspect you already knew that,” he says without tearing his gaze from them. “I don’t know what business they have with my rotten brother.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Neither do I.”

He breaks away from you and storms to the Baron. They share a short, heated exchange, one that has your stomach clenching. How he stood to even be near his uncle bewildered you, though you supposed in some sense that he was unable to completely divorce himself from the man. Feyd was his heir, after all. A fact that the Baron wields over him. Your hands form into fists.

“He said that the Emperor’s soldiers are assisting them in the mission. Something about a shared goal.”

You frown. Both of you stand silently as the soldiers climb into the thopter after Rabban, stirring dust as its wings snap out and then ascend into the rings of smog circling the hangar. The Baron glides toward you both.

“Your brother is a fine soldier,” he rasps, “I know I can rely on him to secure our objective.”

Feyd’s upper lip curls into a snarl. “He has plenty of time to considering he doesn’t have any other obligations.”

“There’s a reason I made you the na-Baron,” the Baron replies coolly. “Your brother has a different fate.”

This response unnerves you. You stare after his bulbous retreating form, then flick your gaze to your husband — Feyd’s entire body is rigid with fury. You wonder briefly if he had spoken to Rabban, and what he said if he did. The more days that have passed since your wedding, the less time you had to spend together.

You were coming up on one month now.

“We dont need to stay here any longer,” you tell him.

Feyd wrenches his arm from your grasp. He snaps, “I have something I need to tend to.”

And then somehow you were left alone in the hanger, a mixture of emotions forming within you. You wanted to chase after Feyd but your better senses warned you not to — he could be volatile like this, and you weren’t really in the mood for a verbal lashing.

Instead you wander the fortress grounds. It’s taken some time, but you’re finally used to the black sun. And the guards no longer believe that you’re an Atreides spy or, at least, any threat. You want to comment on this but it’s a nice freedom, and you nod to them as you pass by. Your aimless stroll is interrupted by a loud yelling, however, drawing you to the massive gates that barricade the fortress from the rest of Giedi Prime.

Before today, you’d never even seen them open.

There’s a crowd of citizens gathered outside, obviously agitated. Guards stall them from entering with their spears, though, to the credit of the citizens, they’re doing a fairly decent job of holding their own. You spot Asha amongst the number of servants aiding in the crowd control.

“What’s going on?” You ask.

“They’re here for their monthly audience with the na-Baron,” Asha explains, “but he’s refusing to meet with them. They aren’t happy.”

She grimaces as an angry shout pierces the air.

“Why is he refusing them?”

Asha casts you a sideways glance. “He’s the na-Baron, he doesn’t need a reason.”

You survey the crowd.

“Tell them that their na-Baroness will receive them.”

“What? Are you sure?” Asha stares at you as if you asked her to behead them all.

“Give me a few minutes, first.” You flash her a smile and then turn back towards where you came from, the clamor of the crowd subsiding.

In your chest, your heart pounds furiously. You didn’t even know Feyd took audience with the citizens, much less what to do with their requests. But you could handle it, you were sure. It was about time that you contributed to the baronship.

Quickly you change into a formal dress and then make your way to the throne room. Your footsteps ring out through the space as you climb the dais steps and take your place on your husband’s throne. It’s to the right of the Baron’s, not quite as grand, and you have half the mind to sit on it before the doors open and the citizens of Giedi Prime spill inside.

The first citizen is a woman, dressed in a worn white dress. Her eyes are sunken. “na-Baroness, we are grateful for you to receive us today.” The woman nervously licks her lips. “I wouldn’t know what to do without my stipend. None of us would.”

Those that can hear her nod their assent.

You do your best not to let your surprise show on your face. You wave a hand. “Of course.”

Most of the citizens are all there for similar reasons: their monthly allowance bestowed upon them by the na-Baron. You learned that families that served in the Harkonnen military received a slightly higher amount, including those retired from it. You were loathed to be impressed by Feyd but you couldn’t help but admire his rule — he was many things, but an excellent na-Baron happened to be one of them. He supported his people in ways that others would not have bothered to.

Of course, not everyone comes to you for money.

You settle a dispute between two neighbors arguing over property lines, and a factory employee declaring unfit working conditions. It rather surprisingly becomes very easy for you to delegate the matters of these people — you found you cared about their problems, making them your own. The crowd had dwindled down quite a bit when you’re faced with two men who can hardly look at each other.

“na-Baroness,” the taller one says. He introduces himself as Anagon.

The other man remains silent.

“We are here today for your gracious judgment,” Anagon continues, unbidden. “You see, this man has forsaken me and my family.”

You examine both men. Anagon is dressed in the style typical of nobles, the other in a simple tunic and pants. He refuses to meet your eyes.

“I see,” you say. “How so?”

“He stole my family’s ceremonial dagger. Straight from my manor!”

The other man finally says, “I didn’t!”

“He deserves the swiftest punishment for his crimes against me,” Anagon continues as if the other man never spoke, “the lower citizens of Giedi Prime must learn their place.”

Anagon’s face falls as you ask the other man, “And what do you say?”

“I-I did find the dagger but —” he raises his voice to be heard over the noble’s protests, “I found it while demolishing the old factory. It-It was buried under the building, lost and forgotten. I fully intended to return it to its owner.”

Anagon hisses, "You did not!"

"You can not know his intentions," you remind him pointedly, then, to the other man, "is this dagger here today? Let me see it."

"My-My name is Res," the man says as he approaches. He offers to you a ceremonial dagger, one that you notice is badly bent out of shape and tarnished. It certainly looks like it’s been buried under a factory.

“Did you know where the dagger was? Answer me truthfully, for I will know if you have lied.”

Anagon shifts his weight. “No, na-Baroness. But it is my family’s ceremonial dagger. It-It was misplaced in the civil war two generations ago.”

You gaze between Anagon and Res. Taking the dagger from the latter, you hand it blade-first to Anagon. “This relic belongs to you. But you must compensate Res for his troubles — you accused him wrongfully. It is not your right to put whoever you see fit into place.”

“Fine. And how do you recommend that I compensate him?” Anagon asks, clearly displeased with your decision.

“You will give him a job under your employ.”

You had sat in on quite a few political meetings with Feyd, and knew the factory that Res spoke of. It had to be demolished and thus left many workers displaced. Anagon, a man you knew only by name until today, was the wealthy head of a series of factories that produced weapons.

Anagon’s jaw flexes. “na-Baroness, there must be another way —”

“You will employ him or I will take that ceremonial dagger and cut your throat with it.”

“She’ll make quick work of it, though,” a familiar rasping voice says. You shift to discover Feyd in the doorway of one of the throne room entrances, the one used for servants. Anagon and Res both stare wide-eyed at him. “You heard her.”

Anagon and Res exchange a glance before the noble mutters something akin to an apology, and promise of employment. Anagon lingers, seemingly for Feyd’s disapproval or your ire, but when neither of you speak, he turns and storms away. Res blinks up at you gratefully.

“Thank you, na-Baroness. You are exceedingly generous and fair.”

You dip your chin. Res takes that as his invitation to leave, smiling softly as he does so.

“That’s it for today,” Feyd announces. “I will receive the rest of you tomorrow.”

The remaining crowd grumbles but filters out of the throne room, leaving you alone with Feyd. He stops on the stairs at the bottom of the dais and gazes up at you. “You belong on a throne.”

Your brows furrow, and you ignore him. “You did not have to intervene, I was managing it quite well.”

“Clearly.”

“Then why did you dismiss them?”

Feyd examines your face. “If a noble claims that a lower-class citizen stole from their house, the citizen would receive death. No questions asked.”

“What?” Outrage shoots through you. “That’s ridiculous. You saw what happened —”

“I’m not disagreeing with you, wife. I am merely stating the truth of the law.”

You bristle. “Do you suggest I call them back here and slaughter the poor man for something that he did not do?”

“While that would be entertaining,” Feyd retorts, “it would demean your decision. The only real danger of it is that the citizens of Giedi Prime will be disappointed if I receive them now.”

“Maybe for good reason,” you sniff. “Why did you desert them today? It is clear to me that these people rely on you.”

A shadow of anger passes over Feyd’s expression. “I was not equipped to handle their problems, which look minor in the face of my own. My emotions would’ve clouded my better judgment.”

“That’s no reason to leave them,” you counter.

“And what do you know of ruling?” Feyd snarls. He advances on you, still towering above you despite your position on the throne. “You played the part of doting daughter to the Duke for all these years. This is your first taste of it. Do not tell me how to rule over my people.”

“Our people,” you dryly correct, “as you married me and thus gave me equal power over them.”

He sneers. “Perhaps a mistake if you think you know more about ruling than me.”

You curb the flare of your irritation, barely, by lifting your chin and looking your husband squarely in the eyes. He is a storm, crackling with dangerous energy, ready to unleash upon you.

And you tell him, “I know plenty of ruling. Get down on your knees, Feyd-Rautha, so I may prove it to you.”

Recognition flickers in his eyes. As much as the beast in him calls to you, the opposite is just as true. You love him like this — wild and beyond your control, fraying at the seams of his sanity. You want to pull on the threads until he unravels completely.

You lean forward slightly. “I said kneel.”

Never breaking eye contact, Feyd sinks to his knees before you.

A heady surge of power crashes over you then, threatens to encompass you, the brightness of the sun after an eclipse. And you are drunk on it, gulping greedily from the golden chalice that it embodies.

“You pretend that I am nothing but a duke’s daughter,” you hiss, “when I am your wife, the wife of the na-Baron. You say I know nothing of rule and yet here you are, submitting to me. How does that speak to your assumptions?”

Feyd says nothing. His gaze burns you.

You continue, unbidden, “I should punish you for your impudence. Tell me, na-Baron, what does your law say of this?”

“It says whatever you would like,” he rasps.

You can see his cock straining against his pants, feel the heat of his desire. And yet he gazes upon you with utter devotion, ready to follow out your orders without hesitation.

“I would like to put that mouth of yours to better use than making false claims.”

Feyd wavers.

“No hands,” you instruct.

You do him the favor of hiking the skirt of your dress up around your hips, then spread your legs. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he marvels you. With the slightest indication of your chin, he all but crawls closer to you, breath fanning the sensitive skin of your thighs. He moves as if to brace his hands on either side of you and you press the toe of your heel to his cock.

“No hands,” you repeat, alleviating the pressure on him only once he’s locked his hands behind his back. A frustrated groan rumbles through his chest, eyes flashing. You say, “Continue.”

Your back bows as his cheeks nuzzle up against your thighs, his mouth ghosting over your cunt with perverse refrain. Unwittingly, you snap your hips to meet him — you didn’t tell him to tease you, you wanted him to fuck you with his mouth, with his stupidly plush lips. Feyd’s breathy laugh warms your exposed entrance, a stark contrast to the cool air of the room, of the throne itself.

Finally he presses his mouth to your entrance and licks a stripe of your center. You shiver in delight. He drags his tongue through your slick folds, slow and savory, deliberately avoiding your clit. Feyd has no hair for you to anchor yourself so instead you grab the base of his neck and push him closer; there’s no doubt in your mind that he’s strong enough to resist you, but he assents to your touch. Feyd’s tongue spears you, stroking your inner walls before withdrawing and paying attention to your aching bud. His mouth closes over your clit and sucks.

The action sends a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. You hold him to you, giving him no other option but to worship you, his licking and sucking becoming almost lewd, fervent, coating his chin with your wetness as he laps at you.

You pull on the back of his armor. Feyd releases his mouth from your cunt, shoulders heaving from his effort. You behold him like this — yielding to you, slick with your moisture, on his knees — and you feel a pulse of want. It drives you to kiss him, to push your tongue into his mouth and taste yourself. Feyd kisses you back just as passionately, mouth working to devour you, devour every logical thought you might conjure.

“Now,” you say, breathless, “I want you to fuck me right here on your throne, so the next time you doubt my competence you remember this moment.”

Feyd nods eagerly. “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, na-Baroness,” he amends, rasping.

You smirk at him, pat his cheek. Feyd remains kneeling as you step from the throne. His body quivers with the slightest hint of his lust, visible to your eye as you circle him from behind. Drinking in his broad shoulders, his tapered waist, the shape of his ass, you swallow, exhilarated by your power and the man before you.

“Sit down. On the throne.”

Feyd obeys. He moves his hands from behind his back to the armrests. There’s a tension in the line of his jaw that tells you it’s taking every ounce of his strength not to touch you.

You set to removing his armor. “Lift,” you instruct and he does as you ask so that you can slide his pants down. His cock springs forth, slapping up against his toned stomach. You trail the backs of your nails up his length, under the curve of his head, and Feyd nearly whimpers at the contact.

You straddle him, and his entire body coils. There’s a tremendous release of endorphins when you finally sink down on his cock, clenching your walls and taking him all in. Feyd groans. You wiggle your hips appreciatively and let yourself adjust. He bucks into you then slightly, which you respond to with an agonizingly slow withdraw, lifting up on your knees so that he’s once more exposed to the cool air. His cock twitches.

“Fuck,” he all but seethes.

You slam back down on him and he howls out. Joining him with a cry of pleasure, his cock piercing you almost painfully, you set a violent, unsteady pace, instincts guiding you to seek out your own orgasm. It washes over you too quickly, stills you as it takes a hold over your senses.

“Please,” Feyd mutters. He grinds against your cunt, eager to keep up the friction.

You hum “Please what?”

“Please let me touch you,” he begs, “please, na-Baroness.”

You pump his cock slowly, lazily, and he grits his teeth in agony. Feyd trembles. “Fine,” you say, his hands on you before you can even finish the word. His touch is electric.

Feyd grabs hold of you, curls his fingers into the dip at your lower spine, and thrusts with you, over and over. He’s the one sitting on the throne but you are the one in charge — holding power over him by the snap of your hips, the way your cunt coaxes out his orgasm, your lips on his neck. And he is all too willing to be the slave to your pleasure, aiding you to orgasm twice more before finally coming inside you.

His thick cum fills you. You moan into the juncture of his shoulder as he wrings his own pleasure from you, shuddering, breath warming the side of your face.

“I-I won’t make that mistake again,” he rasps.

You can’t help but laugh. “Mm, pity. I quite enjoyed it.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t enjoy it,” Feyd says. His expression turns into one of introspection. “I’ve never…given…myself to someone like that before. Not on purpose.”

Your heart twinges. “I wouldn’t have —”

“No. No apologies. I did it willingly. It was a show of…trust.”

The pain you feel at his behalf melts away to something even more confusing and impossible to name. You don’t say anything as you both adjust yourselves; you, slightly uncomfortable as his cum slides down your thighs, him, looking neither abashed at his admittance nor pleased. Just…content. A look you’ve never noticed before gracing his handsome features.

Unspoken between you, the two of you return to your quarters. Fatigue seizes you. But there’s a tiny bird trapped in your chest that beats its wings against your rib cage — hope. A foolish, tragic brush of promise that you wish to silence.

From your place on the bed, where you collapsed upon arrival, you covertly watch Feyd. He cleaned you, gave you a new dress to wear, and now is ensuring that he’s fit for the view of others. You trace the shape of his body, so achingly familiar to you, hidden mostly under his armor. He catches you staring and lifts a brow, dark eyes glinting.

“Yes, wife?” He turns. “Or should I say, na-Baroness?”

You grin at him.

Sitting on the tip of your tongue, a confession lies, your judgement loosened by this moment of peace between you. You want to tell him about the beating of your heart, the way that he’s properly — unavoidably — invaded your mind, but the opportunity passes as soon as you have the chance to grasp it.

There’s a commotion outside of your quarters.

Feyd beats you to the door, shields you with his body as you both survey the servants pacing back and forth. They seem to be mumbling between each other hastily, worriedly, obviously uncertain about what to do with themselves. You can’t miss their pitying glances.

“What’s going on?” You ask.

Feyd’s expression is grave. “I don’t know.” He grabs the arm of one of the passing servants. “Tell me what’s happening.”

“na-Baron!” The servant’s eyes widen. “I-I don’t know, we haven’t been told —”

Suddenly you hear your name being called over the clamor. Asha elbows her way through the servants, face stricken, and grabs you by circling her arms around your neck. “Y/N, I’m so sorry —”

“What? What are you sorry for?”

She holds you at arms length. There are tears in her eyes. “The House of Atreides has fallen.”

A/N 2.0: I’m sorry Leto, you don’t survive in this universe either😭😭😭 Also, part 2 of Feyd and reader solving their disputes with fucking.

For the life of me I can’t remember who but I dedicate this chapter to whoever reblogged Part 7 and added something like “I wish Feyd would fuck away my disbelief and insecurities”. Because same.

Taglist:

@moonsoulk @heartarianagran @torchbearerkyle @unicoreads @taleah @mamawiggers1980 @jovialeggsbailiffsoul @harkonnin @avidreader73 @unicorntrooper @beebeechaos @kamcrazy123 @wo-ming-bai @kpopnstarwars @m-indkiller @dacreshoney @stopeatread

[yarrystyleeza]

Happy birthday tomorrow Yuna! Hope you'll have an amazing day ❤️❤️

As for a request... When I saw you would write for Daryl, I knew I had to send you something. Season 1 and 2 Daryl lives rent free in my mind, so can I please request:

"when they tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear while you talk" and "brushing against each other, even if there is enough room"

Thank you in advance and again, Happy birthday 😁❤️🎉

Awww thank you my love, sorry for answering this late, hope you didn't mind it, it was stupid of me! 😅💖💖💖

I was stuck with the plot of the request for the last two months until last night, I literally wrote this in less than 10 hours lol 🤣🤣🤣 hope you enjoy it, though, and sorry for keeping you hanging! 💖💖💖 You're so welcome and thank you for dropping this request and for the birthday wishes! 🥰🥰🥰

Little Things (D.D)

Requested by @munsonownsmyass

Pairing and dynamic: Daryl Dixon x female! reader, idiots in love

Prompt: fluff, s1!s2!Daryl, tucking hair behind ear, brushing against each other even if there's enough room + petnames for the cherry on top!

Word count: 1.4k!

Writer's note: I loved writing this one so much! As you lily, season one and two Daryl is my favorite Daryl era (beside S8). Not 100% proofread but I hope you really enjoy it, have a great day! <3

"Hurt y'self, little thin'?" He teased, watching you lying on the forest bed after your foot faltered and slipped you into the bottom of the hill. Your brows knitted, you rolled your eyes, he chuckled at the face you made, "alright, I'm comin'."

He slides down, smoothly, and a little bit pompously—with a smirk on his face. You can't lie—he made you smile though you desperately wanted to punch him right in the face.

He offered his hand to you and you accepted his help. At first, he let you wrap your arm around his neck as he walked you towards the hill exit—but as it turns out, you sprained your ankle so bad it was impossible for you to take another step. He scooped you in his arms and carried you back to the quarry.

And that's how you met Daryl.

You can't admit he wasn't a pain in the ass most of the time—if not always, getting on your nerves and driving you up the wall, it was so constant you started thinking he was doing it on purpose.

It kinda was. Daryl had serious troubles with conveying his emotions, and that idiot had a sickening crush on you ever since he saw you at the camp with the girls. He wanted your attention and he only got it when he drove you mad, so he tooled it in his advantage.

You were his favorite. You're the only one he talks to—other than his brother, Merle—and you, too, are the only one who wants to talk to him.

You too had a crush on him. His silly fights and bickering became more amusing to you—sometimes you couldn't even contain the smile drawn across your face when he's mad about something so stupid and could be fixed in complete silence, and when you gave him your smug face—it always drove him insane. You learnt he's quick-tempered, but these ones were visibly made up just to get a chance to be with you.

Daryl reminded you of those little boys in the playground when they used to ruin the girls' sand castles or pull their braids and ribbons just to get their attention. Ever since you came up to this conclusion—life has never been easier!

But things changed a little bit after the attack on the quarry. Daryl turned from only being a hot-headed idiot to be completely protective of you, but that doesn't mean he stopped getting angry—God forbid he does! But he got more reasonable and collected—around you, at least.

As soon as you got to the CDC, he grew closer to you, more friendly, more worried, more caring. He barely slept the night you spent there, checking on you every thirty minutes to make sure you don't need anything—despite you being a wall apart. It was adorable, and it stirred something in you.

Same night at dinner, right before you went to bed, he sat beside you as you dined, he made sure your plate was full and that you'd eaten well because 'it's been a while since you got a decent meal', he says.

And in the middle of the chaos the following morning—he solely cared for you, and not a thing was going to stop him from smashing Dr. Jenner's head that morning if it wasn't for you calming him down.

The two of you escaped in his pickup truck. But despite the horror you had just fled, you couldn't stop stealing glances at each other, Daryl was focused on driving but you spotted him staring at you with soft eyes a couple of times. Both of you blushed, multiple times—vividly, but you couldn't stop. Something was so amusing and sweet about the way he was looking at you, and you were so tempting to him he could stop staring at you even if he wanted to.

Now, staying at Hershel's farmhouse, Daryl turned out to be that sweet lovey dovey guy who'd absolutely melt under your touch—in complete opposite to the face he's been showing to everyone.

As you went out to search for Sophia, Daryl offered to accompany you. He kept brushing arms with you, pumping into your side, and gently holding your biceps to guide you as you walked. He kept putting himself between you and any threat, not letting you shed a drop of sweat—you were almost a passenger princess, but on foot.

But it was very obvious the night he got shot—your heart dropped when it happened, and when you learned it was your Daryl and not some misinformation. You couldn't watch as they took the bullet out, you couldn't watch him screaming in agony—yet you heard him from behind the door. It tore your heart into pieces.

The night fell as you sat on the chair next to his bed, your head dripping every couple minutes as you drifted in and out of sleep. Your head was heavy as a rock sinking in the ocean—yet you kept fighting Mr. Sandman back, shaking your head and rubbing your eyes and patting your face.

"Go to bed, pet," he softly demanded, "ye're tired from sittin' here all day," he extended an arm, gently placing it on your thigh and squeezing it chastely, "ya need some rest."

You shook your head, "I'm fine, Daryl," you shrugged, "it's not like it's the first time I stay up late."

Both of you stay silent, staring at each other with soft eyes. "Climb up in 'ere," Daryl says, his voice was tinted with plead "at least you won't have to keep droppin' yer head like a sippy chicken."

"No, Daryl," you shook your head in utter refusal, desperately trying to show him how awake you are despite craving a warm bed, "you need your own space. What if I accidentally hit your wound--"

"Come on, pet, you know you won't..." he softly smiles, shaking his head. You sigh and climb into the bed with him and he shares his blanket with you. He turns to face you, the moonlight is perfectly casted upon your faces, his blue eyes sparkled and reflected you like a looking glass. He grazes your cheek, tucking your stray hair back behind your ear and his fingertips linger on the skin of your neck.

"Get some sleep, love," he caresses your hair, "I won't need nothin' when ye're right next to me."

You woke up tangled up in his chest, it was warm and peaceful. You never wanted to slip out of his arms—if it wasn't for Hershel coming over to check on him and the men accompanying him.

Daryl got better as the days gone by. You started to see him in the kitchen fetching some biscuits or chips, he'd pump into you on his way out, brushing arms with you and glancing at you with his blueies and a smile. And if he's in the right mood, he'd take you off guard and peck your cheek, and you'd turn red and try to bite your smile. He caught it had quite the right effect on you, and he's been doing it ever since.

"Let it down, pumpkin," Daryl flirts as he snatches the scrunchie out of your hand as you tried to tie your hair, "love it when it's coverin' yer pretty face, gives me a reason to keep tuckin' it back."

"But we're going on a mission," you protest, "it would be dangerous for both of us!"

Daryl takes a run around the golden field and you chase him—but he overpowers you and you stop running, panting and clutching your chest as he giggles. He mischievously walks back closer to you, so you try to take it back, but he's taller than you, stretching his hand up with your scrunchie and shaking it to tease you. "Ya ain't tiein' it today, darlin'."

"Give it back!" you giggle as you jump to reach for your scrunchie, but he keeps stretching his arm above his head.

"Ye look so cute like that, pumpkin," he pulls a smug face as you lean forward against him, your chests compacting and you're an inch away from kissing.

"You could've told me you wanted to kiss me," you tease, not minding that he lowered his hand back down. He tucks your stray bangs behind your ear, ending up doing what he wanted to do all along.

"But it's more fun to watch ya tiptoe and lean on to me like that," he rounds you with his big arms, pulling you deeper into his chest with a Bastard smirk on his face, "it makes you even prettier, pet. These little things you do."

Likes and reblogs are appreciated, thank you for coming to my birthday sleepover celebration! 💞💞💞

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: wooooo, friday!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Despite the unease of the king’s proximity, you drift down into a hollow sleep. The sort that is grey and empty and dizzying. When you wake, you’re alone. The bed is sparse and spacious as you lay tucked in the blanket, snug around your figure. You slide your arm up as you feel a cool graze along your scalp. 

You fix your cap back on your head, wrinkled from being caught beneath you. You roll onto your back and tug at the blanket until you can sit up. As you do, you notice the yellow beam around the silhouette at the window. The king’s hair shines brilliantly in the sunlight. 

You rub your cheek, hot from friction with the pillow. You look down at the blanket rumpled around your waist. You kick if off and climb off the mattress. There is no time to be sleeping. By the slant of the light, you know it’s due time to rise. You turn to tidy the covers, pulling them taut, corner to corner. 

You brush smooth your apron as best you can, a dent left diagonal down the skirt. You turn and glance towards the door. You don’t dare leave without dismissal, nor do you wish to break the king’s peace. 

“You slept heavy,” he says without moving, “you must have needed it.” 

“Your highness,” you croak through a dry throat. “I didn’t...” 

“Didn’t what?” He wonders. “All must rest, even the mice and meagre.” 

You bow your head and fold your hands. You stay as you are as he lowers his own head and his arms move as he fusses with something. There’s a soft tear and he brings something to his mouth. He turns and leans against the curtain, crushed to the stone by his weight. 

“And they must eat,” he offers a morsel of salted meat. 

“Your highness, it is generous--” 

“But you mean to deny me,” he challenges. “Does modesty serve you as well as you serve others?” 

You don’t know how to answer that. You press your lips tight and once more lower your chin. You wring your hands and markedly stop yourself. 

He crosses the room with slow, long strides. He stops before you. The morning light limns his thick body through the white fabric of his nightshirt. He brings the strip of jerky before you, holding it below your nose. 

“I do not trust a turncloak to feed me from his trough,” he intones, gently leaning the meat to your lips. “A king must worry about such things, but not a servant. Who would ever need taint their food, if they let them any at all.” 

You look up at him. His eyes blaze down at you, stunningly gold, like sparkling coins. He prods with the strip and you open your lips to let it slip through you nibble through the thick morsel until a piece breaks off and he rescinds the rest, taking a bite of his own. 

“It’s the last of my elk, and stale at that,” he explains, “in the hinterland, we do eat more than salt, but on campaign, we must eat what we have.” 

You chew, watching him as he turns to pace. He makes you curious. He is a fearsome man, even in only a night shirt, but he thinks overly much. 

“That summer maiden will not like the cold,” he mutters as he rounds the tub then comes back to you. Half the strip remains. He offers it, “take it.” 

You do as he bids. He watches you intently as you hold the jerky and you bring it close to your lips. You stop, “thank you, your highness. You are a generous king.” 

“No, I am a prudent king. Not always generous, not always cruel, only when the moment calls for one or the other,” he stays before you, eyes torrid as they cling to you. 

“Well, you’ve been generous to me, your highness,” you say before you bite into the meat. It is heavier than what you are used to but tasty nonetheless. 

“Prudent,” he repeats, “so I must send you away. Send you back.” He inhales, his broad chest lifting, making him appear even larger, “you have done your duty admirably, little maid.” 

You chew, making a face as you can’t answer for your mouthful. He inclines his head towards you. 

“No,” he shakes his head, “say nothing more. Eat and go. There is still a war to be won before I claim my kingdom.” He puts his back to you and marches back to the window, adding in a grey tone, “...and a wife.” 

His last words are so quiet, so dull, you hardly can discern them. He leans on the window ledge as he stares off beyond the walls. The sun rises around him, casting him in gold. You swallow what’s left of the elk strip and shuffle to the door. As you open it, you hear a sigh, and you close it behind you without glancing back. 

The king does not sound pleased with his nuptials. So is the fare of nobles and their titles. Often the very status that brings them privilege brings them just as much misery. A handmaid only need worry about her next task. 

⚔️

Lady Jazlene is far more satisfied with her imminent union. She is aflutter as you enter her chambers. Merinda watches with dulcet irritation. The duke’s daughter flits around, throwing silks and satins. Lady Rezlyn watches her from a cushioned bench, a goblet in hand as she tuts and tisks at very choice. 

“Mother,” Jazlene tosses down layers of goldenrod yellow, “if none should do, a new dress might be cut, yes?” 

“A new dress? Of what fabric? We are in wartime, dearest,” Rezyn scoffs. 

“And yet you have your reds and your citrus,” the younger accuses. 

“I need wine to steel my nerves and citrus to fill my stomach. You needn’t a dress to live. You have many and more,” Rezlyn snickers. 

“Mother, I swear you do goad me. He is a king. And the war should end soon. There must be silk to be had,” Jazlene whines, and what of jewels? Pearls? Emerald? Sapphire?” 

Merinda shifts, you can sense her thoughts and the little whispers she’s hoarding away for you. She always has the sharpest quips about the pair of ladies and their whimsies. You do agree with some but you can no more blame them for being frivolous noblewoman than you can yourself for being a simple maid. 

Jazlene continues her storm around the chamber. Her nerves are contagious, you can feel a similar stirring in your gut. Perhaps she realises the same as you do. All she knows is about to change irrevocably. 

You try to think of what it will be like when she is married. She must have the same thoughts. You can’t quite picture it. Geralt sitting where Rezlyn does, perhaps he too holds a goblet, Jazlene rambling over her skirts and gems and all the things she wants. You don’t imagine he’d listen for long. Then again, you don’t know the king at all. Not enough to presume you would know. 

Lady Jazlene puts a string of rubies around her neck and preens in the mirror. She points to you then her hair. You come forward and set to pinning her hair. Lady Rezlyn rises and you peek at her in the mirror. She scowls at her wine. 

“Enough fussing, your father wishes us to see the king to break our fast,” the elder holds out her goblet and Merinda comes forward to take it. “And I need more wine.” 

Jazlene shoos you away and stands. She hangs her shoulders and drags her feet, “mother, I will be a queen soon. You cannot order me around so.” 

“Not as yet,” Rezlyn warns, “you have much to learn of being a wife before you worry so much of queendom.” 

Jazlene huffs and pushes her shoulders back. She looks at her reflection once more, posing and posturing. She curves her lips in a wry smirk. 

“Queendom,” she trills, “oh mother.” 

“Yes, yes, don’t get ahead of yourself,” Lady Rezlyn stomps over to her daughter and takes her by the wrist, “you must first think of how to please your husband. As I can tell, it won’t be an easy task, and yet he is as any man is. He is... still a man.” 

“Oh mother,” Jazlene giggles. 

“Look at you, you are marvelous,” Rezlyn pets her daughter’s cheek. “He is a warrior; he holds his shield close but he cannot resist your beauty.”  

The mother keeps hold of her daughter and leads her to the doors. You and Merinda follow at several paces. A habit to keep from trodding on their skirts. The enter the corridor and tension coils around them. The descend to the great hall and to the west wing where the dining hall resides. 

Lord Dustan stands by the head of the table. On most days he would sit in that chair but he only paces around it, tugging at his little triangle beard. You rarely see him so restless. Often, he is as careless as his wife and daughter. 

“Husband, I thought we were to break fast--” 

“Yes, yes,” he waves off his wife’s words, “the king has yet to awaken.” 

You stand by a statue, just to one side of the door. You cannot see the opening around it. You find comfort in its shadow, content to go unnoticed. You wonder if anyone looked upon you, would they see your thoughts. The king is awake but why hasn’t he emerged? 

“What about the marriage?” Rezlyn asks, “a contract?” 

“Wife, if I say it is to be, it is,” Dustan retorts, “must you ever heap upon me?” 

“It isn’t my intent. I am only making certain our daughter’s future is secured. That our family name is to prosper. Husband, I ask in the interest of your profit.” 

“You ask too much,” the duke hisses. 

Before he can receive his wife’s sharp response, sturdy footfalls approach and mute their conversation. A shadow casts through the doorway and you know by the silhouette it can only be one person. King Geralt enters, unassuming in his mail and black clothes. His silver hair is half up, a braid down the back of it. He has his sword strapped to his back. 

“Your highness, the cooks are preparing breakfast--” 

“There is not time for you to sit and gorge,” the king snarls, “there is a war to be won. There is no advantage in waiting on word of your deceit to spread.” 

Dustan has the grace to look ashamed. He twitches and paws at his overcoat, “I... your highness, I would need time to prepare for my departure.” 

“You need mail and a sword. You have a barn full of horses. Mount it and we will be away.” The king insists, “my men march within the hour. We will remember who our allies were when the day is won.” 

“Y-your highness, I--” 

“That is the trouble with summer lords. You think war is played across a board,” the king growls. “war is won in blood and steel. If all you can offer me is words, I am not interested in this contract.” 

“Your highness, I will ready. At once,” Lord Dustan kicks his heels together, “you are right. My spurs are ready.” 

The king drones grimly. He sets his shoulders and opens and closes a fist. Jazlene looks at her mother then steps forward. 

“But your highness, our marriage--” 

“That contract will be met when I have my terms. When my kingdom is forged complete, then I shall have a queen. No sooner than that,” he grits at her. 

“Ah, yes, certainly your highness, then you shall have my favour to ride with,” she pulls a handkerchief from her bodice, “to comfort you in the battles to come.” 

She waves the cloth at him and he says nothing. He grunts and turns to her father. He grabs the duke by his scruff, “let’s hope you can sit a saddle. Carriages are not built for war.” 

King Geralt turns, dragging the Duke of Debray like a stray cat. The king’s golden eyes flick over to you and his jaw ticks. He raises his chin just slightly as he passes, putting his eyes straight only as the meet the corners. He stalks from the room with his blithering ally in tow. 

Jazlene presses her knuckles to her forehead and whines, “mother? Am I to wait anon for my husband? What shall I do? War, war, war! Does it ever end?” 

“Daughter,” Lady Rezlyn sweeps around the table to grab her daughter by the shoulders, “there is no use in bawling. Do not be a child. You are of an age--” 

“Of an age where I should be married!” Jazlene blusters. “How can I be calm when I am promised what I have always wanted and then it is snatched away?” 

“The king will return. As will your father,” Rezlyn shakes her daughter, “King Geralt has made it this far, do not think he will falter now. And when he has claimed victory, he will return to keep good on his promise.” The Lady of Debray lowers her voice, “do you think that your father would break his oath on a chance? That he would gamble. No, he sees what the other lords deny. King Waleran is routed. This war will not last much longer.” 

“Truly, mother?” Jazlene bats her lashes, “how do you know?” 

“Trust your mother,” Rezlyn speaks as though her daughter is no more than a child. “Your father has risked his neck to claim you a king. Do not doubt him.” 

Jazlene considers her mother, searching her face, and pulls her into an embrace. She lets out a shrill squeal and pulls back. Her cheeks round with glee. 

“You’re right mother, this is a blessing. This will allow us time to alter a dress fitting for such a wedding.” 

“Don’t forget a coronation,” Rezlyn adds coyly. 

[specialagentlokitty]

Aizawa x reader - the last 7 minutes

A/N: this idea was given to me by @nyxiethesimp 💜

New year was your favourite time of year, standing on the top of UA, just like you had done for so many years before with your husband by your side, holding his hand.

“I can’t believe you made me come up here again.” He sighed softly.

You grinned up at Aizawa.

“Come on! It’s tradition, we’ve done this since our first year here, we can’t break an over 10 year tradition!”

Aizawa chuckled a little bit, looking down at you, burying his face in his scarf a little as he shook his head at you.

“Every year without fail huh?”

“That’s what I promised.”

Aizawa chuckled again, leaning down to kiss your forehead, and you leant into his kiss.

He pulled away a little bit, and you smiled at him as you watched the first firework shoot into the sky, exploding behind him and your eyes face lit up with excitement.

Aizawa say the sparkle of gold in your eyes, and he leant down to gently kiss you, placing his hand in the back of your head while you took his face between your hands.

Aizawa smiled into the kiss a little more, taking a step closer.

The sound of fireworks exploded all around, and you slowly pulled away from the kiss to look at him.

Brushing some hair from his face, you watched the colours reflect in his dark eyes.

You turned to watch the fireworks with a bright smile on your face, and Aizawa draped his arms over your shoulder, resting his chin on top of your head.

You stood admiring the fireworks, leaning back into him slightly.

“When I go, I hope I go just as beautifully…”

Aizawa wrapped his arms around your shoulder, moving his head against yours sightly.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t go at all…” he mumbled.

You smiled a little more, placing your hands hands on his arms, leaning your head into his.

“I’m not going anytime soon, I promise.”

He hummed a little, keeping his arms around you as you went back to watching the fireworks.

This was how you loved starting your year with him, just the first hour of the year, outside with Aizawa watching the fireworks.

You always cherished those memories.

Now as you lay in the snow, loosing way to much blood, unable to speak, or call out to your fellow heroes for help, you just laid there.

You wondering if that’s what your last 7 minutes would be, when they said after death your brain would remain active for 7 minutes, would your last 7 minutes be full of memories with Aizawa? Fully of happy memories?

You kept your gaze up to the sky, watching as the snow came slowly falling down.

Two weeks into the new year, it had only been two weeks since you stood watching the fireworks with him.

You didn’t feel any pain, that wasn’t a good thing and you knew that, but maybe it wasn’t so bad, you didn’t want to feel any pain.

You could hear the crunching is snow under somebodies foot as they ran, and somebody knelt down next to you, and you turned your gaze to find your best friend crouched next to you.

Hizashi tried his best to smile at you.

“Hey.. hey it’s okay… you’re gonna be okay…” he whispered.

He looked at your stomach, and he quickly looked away, pressing his hand to his comms, whispering something quietly into them before turning back to you.

You were taking shallow breaths, and Hizashi smiled at you, sitting next to you.

“He’s on his way…”

You gave a weak nod, letting out a small pained breath.

Hizashi couldn’t move you, it wasn’t safe, as much as he wanted to help his best friend, he couldn’t risk moving you, so he had to wait.

A minutes later Aizawa came running over and he stopped when his eyes locked with Hizashi’s, the grim expression on the other heroes face was all he needed to see.

Hizashi stood up, walking over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a small squeeze.

“I’m sorry…” Hizashi whispered.

Aizawa walked over, dropping to his knees next to you, taking his scarf off and pressed it to your stomach, hoping maybe it would fix what happened.

He looked to you, finding that you were already looking at him, and you raised a shaky hand to placed over his.

Your skin was freezing.

“No.. no.. no…” Aizawa whispered.

He sat down, leaning over and he placed a hand on your face, running his thumb along your cheek.

“You promised….” He whispered again.

He could feel your hand on his back, gripping his sweater weakly.

“You promised… you promised…” he repeated.

He wasn’t angry, you knew that. He knew that.

“Just hold on…”

He looked back at you, your blood had stained the snow around you, and the snow was still trying to settle on your body, telling him you had been laid like that for a while.

Aizawa’s gaze met with yours again, he could see you fighting with your exhaustion, trying to stay awake for him.

He leant down, softly kissing you, then kissing your forehead.

“Get some sleep…” he whispered, “I’ll be here when you wake up…”

He tried his best to smile for you, he tried to sound reassuring, and he cursed himself when his voice cracked a little bit.

Over ten years by his side, being next to him from the moment you met, going from his friend, to his best friend, to being in love and getting married.

“It’s okay now….”

He could tell by your eyes that you were in a lot of pain, and you were exhausted.

“I’ll be okay, I promise.” He said gently.

You slowly raised your arm to his face, placing a cold hand to his cheek.

“S…sh..Shouta…” you whispered.

He gave another weak smile.

“I’m here, you’re not alone. Get some rest okay? I’ll look after you, I’ll stay right here.”

He kissed the palm of your hand, holding it to his face as he looked at you.

Your breath was more shallow now, and pained sounding, you turned your gaze to the sky, and he did the same thing, watching the snow.

“I love you.” He said.

After a minute, he felt your hand drop a little bit, and he looked back at you, your chest wasn’t moving anymore, he couldn’t hear anymore pained breaths.

He held your hand against his face tightly, silent tears falling down his face.

Hizashi ket his back turned, but he clamped a hand over his mouth, trying not to make a sound as he cried.

Midnight came running over and stopped when she saw his expression, and she placed her hands over her mouth.

News travelled pretty quickly among the heroes that were at that mission that day.

Aizawa wrapped his capture scarf around your waist, hiding your injury with it as he swept you into his arms, your head falling against his chest.

You were gone, you wouldn’t be by his side anymore, and all he had were the memories of you as he slowly walked towards the rescue team.

You in the other hand never realised you had died, you thought you were still living with him, making happy memories as teenagers when you first met.

Aizawa walked, looking at the peaceful look on your face, he wondered what you thought about in your last few minutes, and he would never know that your last few minutes, the minutes that brought you utter peace, were the memories of him.

He gently laid you down on a white sheet, and sat next to you, just staring at you while everybody gave him his space.

The news travelled quickly around the whole country of your death, there were vigils for you, there were news reports on you, even graffiti of you and your hero name began to show up.

Aizawa stood on the roof of UA the following new years, nearly a year later, holding a photo of you.

When the first firework exploded, he looked to the photo of your smiling face.

“Happy new year…” he whispered.

He slowly let go of the photo, letting it travel with the wind.

His new New Year tradition

[ahlovelightaflame]

Never Knew I Needed ~ *Choi Seungcheol*

Summary: During an interview, Seungcheol is asked to divulge details about your relationship. He's more than happy to tell the interviewer how much he loves you.

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol X Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluffyish Oneshot

Word Count: 1245

Warning: N/A

Masterlist

Taglist: @samepoisonsamevine @kpop-will-kill-me

"Choi Seungcheol, if I may ask a personal question?" The interviewer asked.

Seventeen's leader froze for a brief second before giving an easy smile and nod. "You may."

"Tell me, what is the most important thing in your life?"

Jeonghan snickered under his breath. "Man, we're going to be here forever!"

Seungcheol rolled his eyes before answering the question, "For starters, my family, though my brother sometimes gets on my nerves. And then I'd have to say Seventeen. I couldn't imagine my life without either of them. They're my family, whether by blood or not."

"You're so cheesy!" Junhui groaned and shook his head.

"He loves us! We're his favorite!" Hoshi proudly grinned.

Seungcheol rolled his eyes. "You guys are obnoxious! I'll take it all back!"

"Too late! You love us!" Hoshi shot back.

Joshua nudged his shoulder with a teasing smile. "You're still forgetting someone."

"Forgetting someone?" The interviewer leaned in a little with an encouraging smile.

Seungcheol looks down at his lap, a shy smile on his lips and his fingers anxiously twisting in his fingers in his lap. "They're talking about my girlfriend."

"She's more than your girlfriend!" Vernon piped up.

"They're practically soulmates." Joshua explained.

"He never stops talking about her!" Jeonghan added.

The interviewer gives Seungcheol an encouraging nod to continue. "Tell us more about her."

Though he knows he shouldn't, he does anyway, "She's special in her own unique way. I like to say she has this uncanny ability to be at the right place at the right time. Like when I first met her."

"Is that so?"

He nods. "I met her a couple years ago. She was working backstage of a music show and she had pulled me aside to fix my jacket and hair. I swear, I could've melted into a puddle right then and there. She was so kind and her touch was so gentle and her eyes practically were sparkling. I don't usually believe in love at first sight, but that day I knew I did."

"See? I told you they were soulmates." Joshua joked, earning a laugh from the other members of Seventeen.

"It wasn't until after she wished me good luck that I asked if she would be watching us perform. She said she watches everyone perform and that she'll be watching us as well. I'll admit, I put extra effort into my performance that night. After we won and we were getting ready to leave, I found her cleaning a green room and gave her my number before running off. She texted me on the way home."

"She probably felt bad for the dork who was trying and failing to flirt with her." Minghao snickered under his breath.

"He was so bad at flirting when they first started talking!" Seungkwan explained. "It was painful to watch!"

Seungcheol rolled his eyes. "As you can imagine from their reactions, they teased me for my relationship with her and how much I talked about her. But eventually, they started begging me to meet her. I was nervous at first, since it's a big step, but eventually I brought her to meet the group. And they loved her immediately!"

"She's nicer than you!" Dino piped up with a cheeky grin.

"She's so sweet!" Mingyu nodded. "We love having her around."

Jeonghan dramatically sighed before saying, "She's practically taken my spot as mom of Seventeen. I've been replaced!"

"You have not!" Seungcheol shot back. "Remember? As soon as you brought that up, she told you that she could never replace you and told you how important you are to Seventeen. She totally inflated your ego beyond belief that day."

"And I thank her everyday for it." Jeonghan replied with a smile.

Turning back to the interviewer, Seungcheol continued his story. "That was the day I realized how much I love her and I told her that very night. It's also when we had our first kiss."

"So romantic!" Hoshi wistfully sighed before bursting into giggles.

The interviewer nodded at their response. "Sounds like you love her very much. But to be honest, there have been some rough times, haven't there? I'm sure dating a celebrity such as yourself is no easy feat."

Seungcheol gives a small wince. "Well, yes, we've had our moments where things don't go according to plan. But we always work through our conflicts to the best of our abilities."

"Like the World Tour Incident." Jihoon interjected.

The rest of Seventeen shudders at the thought, making the interviewer intrigued. "Please, tell us what this incident was about!"

Seungcheol winces once more before beginning the story. "This world tour was about two or three months, and I had never been away from my girlfriend for that long. I was sure we were going to be fine, but I misjudged how long the time was and how far apart we'd be. By the time we wrapped up the third week of performances, I thought she had forgotten all about me-"

"She didn't call him like twice in that time." Junhui explained.

"Regardless!" Seungcheol snapped. "I thought this was her way of saying we were over, so I went with it. We were over, that's it. And I was in such a dark place that I threw myself into my work. I don't really remember what happened during that time, but from what the rest of Seventeen has told me, it wasn't a pretty sight."

"It's best that you don't know." Seungkwan shook his head.

"After two weeks of that, she visited me at our hotel. I was so angry with her and myself, that I was the one who blew her off. I demanded she leave and never see me again." Seungcheol hung his head in shame. "I never should've done that. I don't know what came over me but it was awful. For the rest of the tour I was so depressed, thinking I had gotten rid of one of the only good things in my life."

"And that's when Wonwoo had an amazing idea!" Mingyu piped up and grabbed Wonwoo's arm.

Jihoon nodded. "He invited her to our last concert of the tour and we had her in the front row."

"He almost cried like a baby when he saw her!" Jeonghan teased their leader. "But he put his all into that performance, just so he could impress her like the first day they met."

"And when the concert was over, we made sure she was backstage to be there for him." Vernon nodded.

Seungcheol gave a small smile. "I was so overcome with emotion I just broke down in her arms. I cried for what felt like hours and apologized like my life depended on it. When I got all of that out of my system, she told me how much she loved me and how happy she was that I was coming home. From then on, I knew I would never let our relationship get that bad again. And it never has."

"Their reunion was so sweet, it still brings a tear to the eye." Hoshi pretended to fake cry.

The interviewer nodded. "It sounds like you really love this girl."

"That's an understatement." Chan snorts.

Seungcheol just nodded. "I do. I love her more than anything in the world, plain and simple."

"Any plans for the future of your relationship with her?"

The rest of Seventeen snickered as Seungcheol's smile turned mischievous.

"Oh? Didn't you know? We're getting married tomorrow."

[pumpkinbxtch]

— two people, one umbrella ∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠° headcanons

the hoO boys when starts to rain and there's just one umbrella. ft. apollo

who's here: frank zhang, jason grace, leo valdez, percy jackson and apollo

warnings: none

a/n: its friday, so headcanons arrives here. kisses for y'all. enjoy.

— frank *⁠.⁠✧

This guy doesn't hesitate for a second, he's got you covered with the umbrella, most (if not all) of it.

"I don't want you getting sick," he says while holding the umbrella.

He's so tall he doesn't need to raise it any higher than necessary, and you keep pushing it toward the center so each of you gets at least a little covered.

He might pretend he's covered, but his shoulder is getting terribly soaked.

He's thinking about the shape-shift, imagining what it would be like if you had a canary on your shoulder while walking in the dry, safe rain.

But in the end, he obeys you. He takes your hand and tries to cover both of you (because he thought he might get sick, then you'd want to help him, and he doesn't want to bother you).

— jason *⁠.⁠✧

Once the umbrella is fully open, he figures out the best way for both of you to be covered, always putting you first in his mind.

He moves you in front of him, but he can see you might trip.

He considers just covering you, but he knows you'd both end up fighting and getting wet anyway.

So, he wraps his arm around your waist to pull you closer. Now, you're both under the umbrella, dry.

He smiles at you and takes advantage of the closeness to kiss your cheek and your knuckles.

“let me, my love” he says soflty if you try to help him with the umbrella.

He's the type to hold your hand and tuck it into his jacket to keep you warm.

Another thing he could do is control the air so the umbrella holds itself up and you can walk together even more comfortably.

— leo *⁠.⁠✧

"I already anticipated that!" he exclaimed when he saw that both of you weren't completely covered by the umbrella he was carrying and smiled eagerly at you.

He presses a button on the umbrella's handle and it expands even more, Hurray! You're both covered.

But...

As you continue walking on the sidewalk, Leo looks at other couples in similar positions, only much closer, cuddling and lovingly playing around, while the umbrella with the improvements he invented works so well that you even walk a bit away from him.

Oh no... :(

He wants to do those cheesy things with you too, and he plays the fool.

If a child of Hephaestus can fix something, they can also break it, so he presses the button too hard, for breaking it. The extra space is gone.

"What happened?" you ask confused, some drops start to wet your hair, and Leo smiles seeing how beautiful the dew looks on you,

he just shrugs "I don't know, I guess it doesn't work anymore" he says uninterestedly, and he pulls you to him impatiently,

definitely using some of his warmth so you don't get cold.

He adjusts himself, hugs you, and you walk together.

— percy *⁠.⁠✧

He literally gives a fuck if it rains or not, so the problem is, he never carries an umbrella.

But that's because he can control his waterproofing. If Percy Jackson doesn't want to get wet, he won't, but you're not him.

"Don't worry, babe," he says with a confident smile as you cover yourself with your hand from the increasingly heavy rain.

He bites his lips and looks above you, now the rain avoids you both, and you're no longer getting wet.

He winks at you, and you hug him sideways. Let the mist take care of what others see, and he leans in for a kiss. You give it to him.

suddenly feeling the drops hitting your hair again. For a few seconds, neither of you cares, and he hugs you, prolonging the kiss.

A kiss in the rain.

When the water trickles down your noses and you can taste some of those drops, you break apart with a giggle.

"Oops," he says, and he focuses again to keep you both rain-free.

Though you run to get home as soon as possible because for Percy, it's hard not to want to stop and kiss and cuddle you.

— apollo *⁠.⁠✧

He's a god, and the god of the Sun. He could literally make a few calls to get rid of that silly rain bothering his beloved.

But oh no, Apollo lives for the drama, for love, it's for the feelings he exist, so he conjures up an umbrella and covers you.

Apollo will definitely sing "Singing in the Rain" while dragging you along and giving you gentle spins.

For him, it's such a mundane moment, but because he's with you, he wants to turn it into the greatest musical ever told, because it's for the two of you and for him, it's better.

He takes your hand and swings it with great humor.

He's literally a sun walking on the streets full of people grumpy because of the bad weather and a gray, cloudy landscape.

When he sees you smile and chuckle, his spirit overflows with joy, and unintentionally, the sun appears among those clouds, and the rainbow makes a nice trio in the sky.

He gives you a peck on the lips when you raise your eyebrows at his mischief.

"I can't help it," he says with a smile and links your arm with his to continue the walk.

*⁠.⁠✧

[atlasscrumpit]

Sex, Wine and Pizza

(nsfw. You and Miguel share a nice evening)

After a long day Miguel came home to see you sitting on the couch going through your phone.

You smiled and jumped up to hug him.

He chuckled and hugged you back tightly.

"Oh, baby. I missed you so much today." He said leading you back to the couch and pulling you onto his lap.

Your legs straddled his as you smiled and looked down at him, running your hands through his hair. He sighed in relief and squeezed your hips in his large hands.

You leant in and kissed him softly.

"You know what will fix that bad day?" You asked as he looked at you with a smile.

"What?" He asked as you kissed him again.

"Sex, wine and pizza." You said making him chuckle.

"That sounds perfect." He replied kissing your neck as he ran his hands under your shirt.

"Listen, baby. I need to be rough... I just need to fuck you." He said as you felt the heat between your legs grow.

"That's okay with me." You said as he chuckled and kissed you roughly.

"Good girl." He growled biting your neck as you yelp in shock.

He pressed your body down onto his hard on and groaned softly.

"You know what to do, baby." He said as you kissed down his neck and began to undo his belt.

"Hand or mouth?" You asked as he smiled.

"Mouth." He replied as you smirked and slowly sunk to your knees, taking his belt off.

Before you tossed it away he grabbed it from you and slipped it over your head and tightened it around your neck.

"That's better." He said as you pulled out his hard cock, you leaned forward and took his cock in your hand before licking the precum off the tip.

He growled at the sight before him, he gripped the belt causing you to choke further.

"Don't think about complaining now, darling." He warned as he grabbed your hair with his other hand.

You adored the feeling, your only focus was Miguel and you loved it.

You took more of his cock further into your mouth, gagging a little making him chuckle softly.

"No matter how many times you take me, it's still too much for you isn't it, baby?" He said forcing your head down further as he began to thrust himself into your mouth.

"There's a good girl, you just let me fuck that pretty mouth." He growled, fucking into the back of your throat as he moaned and tilted his head back.

"Fuck, Y/N. My good girl." He growled before he shoved his cock further down your throat and came.

You squeezed his leg as you swallow him down and quickly pulled away coughing and splattering.

"Breathe slowly, baby." He said as you caught your breath back.

You climbed back onto his lap and rested your head against his shoulder, catching your breath.

"I usually last a little longer." He muttered as you chuckled softly.

"I think I would've passed out if you lasted any longer." You whispered kissing him.

"Now... Your turn, hand or mouth?" He asked as you smirked and kissed him.

"Mouth." You whispered as he smiledand continued to kiss you.

He helped you off his lap before taking you into the bedroom.

He kissed you and laid you onto the bed, making sure you were comfortable.

He pulled your pants and panties off before situating himself comfortably between your legs.

He kissed your inner thighs as you leant back on the pillow and tangled your hand into his hair.

You could feel his breath against your pussy before you felt his tongue flick over clit.

You gasped and bit your lip.

"Oh fuck, Miguel." You whispered as he began to suck on your clit.

You began to moan as you held tightly onto his hair.

Miguel was always great with his mouth. You gasped when you felt his tongue push into your pussy.

He continued licking and sucking as you cried out in pleasure.

He gripped your leg tightly when he felt you begin to shake, knowing you were close.

He drove you over the edge as you screamed out and arched your back, Miguel loving the warm liquid that spilled out from you.

He rode you through your orgasm before pulling away and panting.

"Fucking hell." You muttered making him chuckle.

He climbed up and laid beside you, resting his arm over you.

"That tastes better than pizza." He said as you chuckled and shook your head.

"And your cum tastes better than wine." You said as you both began to laugh together.

"I hate us." You said with a laugh as he rolled over and kissed you softly.

"I'll go order the pizza."