#all looking so handsome in their portraits <3

[sansaorgana]

— STILL WATERS RUN DEEP

PAIRING — Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — He's a psychotic killing machine and you're a shy and innocent lady. You have nothing in common except for the fact your bloodlines have been manipulated for centuries to create a match. And you seem to be destined to be together.

REQUEST — (1) // (2) // (3)

AUTHOR’S NOTE — I don't write children!Readers unless it's for the retrospections and memories. That's why I combined all these requests into one fic. Some parts of the requests didn't make it but I felt like it was already getting long 🙈 I included the trope of Feyd and Reader being destined to be together – some sort of Soulmates AU, I guess? ✨

WARNINGS — arranged marriage, blood, spiders, mentions of Baron Harkonnen abusing Feyd, SMUT, fingering, oral, hints of innocence kink, The Harpies being a bit non-consensual

WORD COUNT — 7,500

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

STILL WATERS RUN DEEP

Giedi Prime was surely a scary and intimidating place for a twelve years old girl. The lack of colour and friendly faces made you shiver and anxiously cling to your father’s hand. You couldn’t understand why he had insisted on you accompanying him on this official state visit for the meeting with Baron Harkonnen. He would never want to take you with him to much more pleasant places. You were too young to understand the hidden agenda, the Bene Gesserit scheming – whose plans had been destroyed by Lady Jessica giving birth to a son instead of a daughter. They needed a new match for the young na-baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, The Baron’s nephew. After years of searching and studying many possibilities, they had decided to create a union between your House and The Harkonnens. Your father was more than happy – it was an honour to bond with such a powerful family. You were from one of the planets of a lesser importance. That was the reason for The Baron’s distrust towards the plan. He would rather see his nephew marrying a great lady, perhaps even an Imperial Princess.

While he talked to your father, you were left alone with no one but one guard in an empty room. You were sitting on a black couch and looking with awe at the portraits on the walls. All men looked the same on them – big, bald, hairless and scary. They fascinated you as much as they intimidated you.

After a while, the doors leading to the corridor opened and you startled at the sight of a boy more-less your age entering confidently with a contemptuous look upon his face. He looked like all The Harkonnens – sickly and scary. He was wearing clothes you had only seen on gladiators and warriors before but it looked disturbing on a body so skinny and small, even though he was tall for his age. There was a splash of blood upon his face and it made you gasp and take a step back. He smirked at you.

“So, that’s you? Disappointing,” he commented harshly as you swallowed thickly.

“What are you talking about? Who are you?” You looked nervously at the guard but he remained stoic.

“I’m Feyd,” he introduced himself. “My training has been interrupted and I’ve been told to meet you for whatever reason. Haven’t expected such a scared, little bunny,” he sneered and you spotted his teeth were black. They didn’t look rotten, though.

“What happened to your teeth?” You asked him, raising an eyebrow.

“My Uncle made the medics paint them black to intimidate my enemies,” he answered, proudly.

“What kind of enemies might a twelve year old have?” You asked, surprised.

You had no enemies. Your life was of a typical spoiled young lady – full of mother’s kisses, father’s embraces, candies, ponies and maids braiding your hair in the evening while telling you tales of handsome and brave prince charmings. You couldn't imagine that it was different for other people.

“You’re stupid,” Feyd pointed out and you shut your mouth, feeling hurt at his words as tears pricked your eyes. He approached you and you took a step back, scared of him. “Don’t cry,” he tilted his head at the sight of your wet eyes. “Has no one ever told you that you were stupid?” Now it was his time to be surprised and you shook your head. “Do you want to see something?” He proposed as his eyes sparkled.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, genuinely.

“I will protect you,” he offered his pale hand and you looked at it with fear in your eyes.

“I am scared of you,” you raised your eyes to lay them on his face again while you explained.

“Good,” he nodded with a chuckle. “But I’d get in trouble if something happened to you. You are the daughter of my uncle’s guest. Come,” he encouraged.

Your status gave you courage as your curiosity only fueled your desire to actually follow him. Just like the portraits on these walls – he was as intimidating as fascinating to you. Perhaps because you had never before met such a boy.

You took his cold hand and a shiver went down your spine. For a short while, you thought you would faint as an odd feeling filled your small body. A familiar warmth that you only felt when you were back home, in your bed, feeling safe and sound with the nanny or your mother caressing your head to help you sleep. Like he was home. But he couldn’t be. You had never met him and he was scary. 

“Have you felt that, too?” You gasped.

“No,” Feyd lied. “Come,” he dragged you behind him and the guard opened the doors in front of you.

Feyd took you down the corridor and led you downstairs to some sort of dungeons beneath the fortress. You were starting to have a bad feeling about it but something deep inside you made you trust that odd boy. Without understanding it yet, you were starting to realise he was the one who had been meant for you from the day you were born. There was some connection between your bloodlines that was drawing you towards each other.

You found yourself in an old, dark and damp room. It smelt of something rotten and it was full of spiderwebs.

“What is this place? It’s disgusting,” you pointed out as you winced. Feyd let go of your hand and sneered at you.

“Life is unpleasant. The sooner you learn that, the better,” he pointed out and suddenly, he reached for a short knife by his waist you had not noticed before. You yelped at the sight, convinced he had only dragged you there to kill you.

“Don’t be silly, I won’t hurt you,” he rolled his eyes and you nodded, unsurely. “Do you want to see me kill something?” He smirked playfully at you.

It felt wrong and you felt the anxiety rising in your abdomen when you realised you’d get in trouble for that. On the other hand, you did want to see him kill something. It was curiosity mixed with excitement to witness something forbidden and something you had been sheltered from.

“Yes,” you nodded, eagerly. He was a little surprised at your reaction but he only smiled.

Feyd beckoned you over by waving his hand and you followed him, quietly. Then you gasped and covered your mouth as you gagged out of disgust at the sight of a big, fat spider in the corner of the room. It was huge – nearly as big as you were. But it was also fat and slow. The legs were long and thin, furry black sticks.

“I found it a few days ago,” Feyd told you as he looked at your disgusted face. “Gross, isn’t she?”

You nodded.

“She reminds me of my uncle,” Feyd explained with hatred in his voice. “Do you see those small spiders on the ground?” He asked and you looked down. It was full of smaller spiders but they were all laying there dead. “She feeds off of her own children.”

You took a step back, utterly disgusted and sick. Feyd snorted at you and turned his back on you to gut the big, black spider. You watched with terror how much satisfaction it was giving him. He struck the monstrosity so many times that you lost count. He kept striking when it was already laying there dead.

“That’s enough,” you whispered and Feyd froze before turning around to face you. There was pure murder in his eyes and when he walked towards you with a knife in his hand, you were sure he would kill you now, too.

You took a deep breath in and closed your eyes, expecting the worst. But when you felt his breath on your face, you heard him hiding the knife away.

“Stupid little bunny,” he told you and you opened your eyes, hesitantly. He was staring at you as if he was studying your face.

The door opened suddenly and a few guards entered, sighing out of relief. Your father was standing behind them, scared. Baron Harkonnen was there as well, floating ominously.

“There you are!” He raised his voice and you spotted that all Feyd’s confidence was gone in a second. The boy looked down and blushed. “I’ve told you to behave. Why are you scaring Lady (Y/N)?!”

You turned around to face The Baron, hiding his nephew’s from his sight with your small body.

“He did not scare me, my Lord,” you assured with a slight bow of your head. “I wanted Feyd-Rautha to show me around,” you lied to protect him.

You had a feeling his uncle would punish him and he looked like a man you would never want a punishment from.

“She’s naive,” your father tried to save the situation. “Curiosity killed the cat,” he reminded you and grabbed you by your wrist to pull you closer to him. “Forgive my daughter, my Lord Baron.”

“She is forgiven,” the big man smirked viciously before lying his eyes on his nephew. “The boy, however, is not.”

You wanted to protest but your father gave you a stern look and announced it was time for you to leave now. So, you obeyed and walked away, following the guard leading you out of the corridor. But you kept looking behind, trying to see Feyd-Rautha for the last time.

“Will I see him again?” You asked your father, looking up.

“Who?”

“Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha,” you explained and your father sighed as he looked down at you.

“You will in eight years,” he announced. “You will become his wife.”

Those eight years you had not wasted a day, practising for your new role every day. Learning all about The Harkonnens; their culture, their history, their customs and war strategies. You knew that their nobility would not give you an easy time for being a Lady of the lesser house. You wanted to prove your worth with knowledge.

Your wisdom was your only weapon because you lacked confidence nor experience in nearly anything. Sheltered your whole life, surrounded by books and teachers, you were shy and innocent. The spider incident on Giedi Prime still remained your only sin – that no one except your husband-to-be possessed the knowledge of.

You had not been in touch with him at all but the stories had reached you about his nature and his victories in the gladiator arena. You believed them all because your short encounter had been enough to give you an idea about what kind of man he would become. You had never protested whenever your marriage was mentioned but you felt anxious. You didn’t belong on Giedi Prime, you didn’t fit in the world of death and violence.

Tested by Gom Jabbar, you nearly failed the test. The scary Reverend Mother gave your mother a look of disapproval. On the very next day you were shipped to Giedi Prime for your wedding, though. You had survived the trial and only that mattered – the long-planned scheming couldn’t be sabotaged.

On the day of your arrival, you were led with your parents to a room you had remembered from your last visit. There was the same black couch and the same portraits on the wall – only now there was one more than before. The last one in line, of a young man with handsome facial features, signed with your betrothed’s name. You opened your mouth slightly as you kept staring at it. He was a young and handsome na-baron; a strong warrior surrounded by men and women who admired him. You could only imagine how inconvenient a marriage had to be for him. Especially to an uninteresting and unimportant woman like you.

The doors opened and you turned around to see him in real life as he entered the room in black gladiator gear. He looked better than in the portrait – raw and magnetic, dangerous. Your parents stiffened at the sight of him and they both bowed their heads.

“Lord Na-Baron,” your father greeted him. “We have delivered our daughter to you, according to the agreement,” he explained. “We have hoped to be greeted by your uncle The Baron.”

“He’s busy,” Feyd interrupted your father in a low and raspy voice that sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes were only fixated on you – curious and mocking. You bowed down slightly as well, not wanting to disrespect him.

“Y-yes, of course, my Lord…” your father took a step back.

“You’re grown now,” Feyd-Rautha stood in front of you with a smirk and you took a deep, shaky breath in.

“So are you, my Lord Na-Baron,” you nodded.

“She hasn’t changed a bit,” Feyd turned around to give your father a contemptuous look. “A timid little bunny. But it’s no surprise since she’s been raised by a coward and bootlicker like you.”

“My daughter is of many qualities, my Lord, I can assure you…” your father panicked.

“A wife only needs one quality,” Feyd sneered at him as your blood ran cold at his words. “Show them to their rooms,” he told the guards and left the room.

“I can’t believe you’ve made deals with these people,” your mother snapped angrily at your father who was standing there with his head kept low, ashamed.

But it was not like he had any saying in this. It was the plan of the Bene Gesserit. You were nothing but pawns in it. You tried to remember that Feyd-Rautha was a pawn, too.

After the scary and bloody wedding party, you were taken to your husband’s bedroom where you were supposed to be prepared for the wedding night. However, it was not the maids waiting for you there. Three bald Harkonnen women were sitting on your husband’s bed and smirking at you, showing off their sharp teeth. They were dressed in black leather and clinging to each other as if they were one body instead of three.

“We will prepare her for the Master,” one of them told the servants who had taken you there. You looked at them with panic and they only looked back with guilt and compassion before walking out as quickly as possible, leaving you alone with the scary snake-like creatures.

They were circling around you, sniffing you and chuckling contemptuously. You didn’t understand anything but you tried to bravely keep still and endure. Then, one of them approached you and licked a fat stripe across your cheek. Your eyes widened in terror.

“Oh-so-innocent,” she commented. “Have you ever pleased a man?” She asked.

You were terrified and embarrassed, you didn’t know what to do.

“N-no, my Lady,” you stuttered and nodded your head, unsure how to address her.

They all found it amusing as they laughed.

“My Lady, she calls me. I might like this one,” the woman caressed your hair with some sort of perverted delicacy that made you feel even more scared. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your hands turned cold and sweaty. “I’m not a lady, na-baroness. I am your husband’s whore,” she informed you and you nodded again, hesitantly. “We are his favourite pets. You see… Our Master likes perversion,” her hands landed on your hips as she pulled you closer to her body. “We will teach you how to please him and how to take him.”

“He’s a lot to take,” another woman stood behind you and grabbed your breasts from behind.

“W-won’t he mind, my husband?” You swallowed thickly.

“Not at all,” the third one giggled. “He always shares his toys.”

“Not this one,” the doors opened as Feyd-Rautha entered the room. He glanced at the women angrily and they immediately let go of you and moved away. “She is not a toy, she is your na-baroness. What are you doing here?” He snapped. “Have I not forbidden you from entering this room from now on?”

“Oh, Master…” one of them approached him to put her arms around his neck but he pushed her away.

“Get out,” he hissed and they ran away.

When the doors closed behind them, Feyd looked at you and sighed before approaching you and caressing your cheek.

“You alright, wife?” He asked.

“Y-yes, thank you,” you nodded and flinched at the feeling of his cold fingers brushing your cheek. An odd and out-of-place warmth started to fill you like all those years ago. It made him startled, too, and eventually he took a step back.

“You must be exhausted,” he only said as he looked away, awkwardly. “We can perform our duties in the morning.”

“Th-thank you,” you nodded. “I’ll go take a shower now…”

Feyd pointed at the doors leading to the bathroom and that was all for that night. When you came back to his bedroom, he was already gone. You went to sleep without him, confused by his behaviour.

Baron Harkonnen watched carefully with his own eyes and through the eyes of his servants. He observed and he listened – nothing could ever escape him. But the new na-baroness was as easy to read as a book. When she joined him and Count Rabban by the breakfast table, she didn’t wince while sitting, which was an obvious sign she had not been claimed by Feyd the previous night. The Baron smirked when the new na-baroness began to eat the meal, keeping her timid gaze down, terrified of her surroundings.

If Feyd-Rautha refused to be her friend, The Baron would surely find her a purpose. She would be an easy tool to keep Feyd in place. A silent, obedient shadow following her husband everywhere. A perfect spy.

“Na-Baroness,” he addressed her and she flinched before looking up, scared. “I would like you to join the council after the meal. Your husband rarely takes part in them since he is too busy training but now you are an extension of him,” The Baron forced a smile and she nodded. “I’ve been told by your father you are well-trained in Harkonnen history and customs.”

“Y-yes, my Lord,” she bowed her head.

“I know that Feyd-Rautha is not an easy man to be around,” The Baron continued as Rabban raised his head, curious about his uncle’s scheming plan. “He’s been like this ever since he was a child. I’ve been trying to temper him.”

“I remember,” the young woman whispered.

“You can tell me about anything that is worrying you,” The Baron assured her and she smiled genuinely. “Has he hurt you?” He squinted his eyes, knowing the answer already but wanting to test her honesty.

“No, my Lord. Feyd-Rautha did not spend the night with me at all,” she answered and he nodded as Rabban sneered.

“You have to forgive him, my Lady. He prefers other… forms of entertainment,” The Baron explained softly.

“I believe I have met them, my Baron,” the woman looked down.

“Most likely, yes. They don’t like to share him,” The Baron chuckled.

“But the heir…”

“Do not worry about the heir. You are both still young, you have time. There is no need to hurry anything. Take your time to adjust on Giedi Prime first,” The Baron tried to calm her down and she looked up with so much gratitude in her eyes that he was sure he had succeeded. She was his agent now.

To your own surprise, you found new friends in your husband’s family – his uncle and brother – but not him. Feyd-Rautha was mostly avoiding you and a few attempts to claim you were ending in a fiasco. You couldn’t understand why he would pull away suddenly and leave you without a word or fail to get hard enough no matter how long his touch lingered upon your body. It made you feel as if you were lacking, because you knew for sure he had no problems of this sort with his concubines. They often bragged to you about it. They had offered to help you to excite him and you nearly agreed to that but Feyd hated to see you around them. He snapped whenever he caught you talking to them or them approaching you.

He hated to see you around his uncle and brother, too. He had been warning you about them but it felt cruel to do so. Did he want you to not have any companionship at all? To be sad and lonely and miserable all your days?

You weren’t appreciated in marriage but you were appreciated as a part of this family – representing the na-baronship during the council meetings with your decisions and advice. The Baron seemed to be pleased with you and Count Rabban had stopped to make fun of you over time. Still waters run deep, The Baron would often say about you as your cheeks heated up and eyes sparkled. Perhaps all the years of studying the customs and tradition of this House would not be useful in your marriage but they seemed to be useful when it came to your political presence.

It still bothered you that Feyd-Rautha was acting so weirdly towards you. You remembered the boy he had been eight years earlier. You had never feared this union because you had been sure there was some sort of bond now between you two, some sort of connection. Perhaps you had been wrong.

It was right after one of Feyd’s failed attempts to claim you, when he left you half-naked in bed with tears pricking your eyes. He walked away and most likely went to his concubines as you fixed yourself and left the room, too, not wanting to remain in the chambers filled with the smell of embarrassment and humiliation anymore. You nearly crashed with your brother-in-law walking down the corridor.

“My Lady,” Rabban nodded at you. “Is everything alright?”

“Y-yes,” you answered, trying not to show your nervousness. There was no need for him to know the details about the problems your marriage was facing.

“I was just looking for you,” he confessed and you raised an eyebrow at him. “Tomorrow, my uncle wants me to lead the council meeting only for the most important members of the court. It’s about a matter of a very high importance and it’s confidential,” he whispered. “I hoped you would join me. Without my uncle there, I will be the only one representing our family.”

“But tomorrow Feyd has his fight. I am expected to be in the stands,” you looked up at him.

“Uncle will be there. You are more needed here, (Y/N),” Rabban tried to convince you. You could see his hands were a little shaky – he was stressed about the responsibility placed upon his shoulders by his uncle. “It’s not like Feyd will even notice your absence,” he added.

You bit on your lower lip. He was right.

“Alright, I’ll join you in the council,” you nodded your head. “Our state affairs are much more important than some fixed gladiator fight anyway.”

The servants’ slim fingers were applying the black paint upon Feyd-Rautha’s body as he observed his three harpies from the corner of his eye. They were giggling between each other and some of the words reached his sensitive ears.

“...naive…”

“Silly little thing.”

“...taste her heart…”

“What are you talking about, pets?” Feyd turned around to face them as he asked and they went silent.

“Nothing important, Master,” the bravest of them all answered eventually.

“I have a feeling you’re whispering about my wife,” Feyd pointed out.

“As I said, nothing important,” she chuckled and the rest giggled. Feyd squinted his eyes and approached them with a clenched jaw and an angry expression on his face. When he grabbed her by the chin, they stopped laughing.

“You are forbidden to even think of her,” he hissed out. “You’re not worthy of that.”

“M-Master…” She trembled as she pleaded for his softness. Her companions hid behind her and observed him carefully. “She doesn’t even know how to please you, Master.”

Feyd’s hand dropped down and the squeeze tightened around the woman’s neck. He watched her struggle to catch a breath for some time as he observed with a smirk. Eventually, he let go of her.

“My wife belongs to a different realm than you,” he stated. “She is not to be discussed, looked at, thought of… Am I understood?”

“Y-yes, Master,” they all nodded, obediently.

“Good,” he smiled and went back to the servant girls.

“You might be interested in the gossip, though, na-baron,” one of the concubines whispered. “We are your eyes and ears…”

Feyd pretended not to be intrigued although he was. He didn’t react, hoping she would say more. And so she did.

“Your uncle keeps the young na-baroness close. The rumour has it he wants to make her one of his agents. And she is slowly taking your place during the councils. Count Rabban is his Plan B if you fail. Then she will be given to him.”

“I’m sure Rabban won’t have a problem with fucking her,” the bravest concubine added as if his punishment had not worked at all. Because it didn’t. She loved his punishments. “Her innocence will only make him more eager. He will tear her apart.”

“Shut up!” Feyd growled, making the servant girls take a few steps back as he turned around to face the girl with a big mouth. “Let me remind you that I don’t need your tongue to fuck you,” he sneered. “Your sisters are better at using their tongues than you anyway.”

The woman looked down and he was informed that he was about to enter the arena in five minutes so he went back to putting the gear on, furiously clutching to his blades. He was grateful to his concubine for fueling his anger so much – he wanted to make good use of it in the arena.

But when he approached the tower with his uncle’s balcony to bow down, he spotted that his wife was not there. Suddenly, the fight made no sense to him at all. What was the point of putting on a show, what was the point of killing with grace when she could not watch?

He had been waiting eight years for her to come back. The timid little bunny girl that made him feel so warm inside. That made him feel like home. Nothing had ever made him feel this way. They were destined for each other. Now, when she was by his side, he had no idea what to do. He had been training his body for years to impress her and be able to protect her but nothing was working out the way he had planned. She was slipping away.

She was slipping away because of his uncle’s scheming and because Feyd-Rautha himself had no idea how to approach a creature so pure and innocent as this woman. If anything in this world was still able to save his rotten soul, it was her. But maybe he had been naive to think so. He was beyond saving.

He didn’t give the audience a show on that day. The fights were quick and swift. No playing with his victims, no tormenting. Just a kill after kill to finish it as fast as possible. And no bowing down at the end. He just walked out of the arena, still clutching his fists on the blood-dripping blades. He walked past the guards and servants, not wanting to change or bathe – he wanted one thing only. To find his wife.

The sounds of the cheering audience were becoming more and more quiet. They waited for him to walk back and bow down, raising his knife in the sign of victory. He had no plans in doing so. He would not kneel in front of his uncle. Not when his wife was not beside him, because it was her he had been kneeling for. Not Baron Harkonnen.

The council was over now but you stayed inside the conference room with Count Rabban to discuss what had been decided and what to tell his uncle. You were staring at the maps of Arrakis and wondering whether the Emperor’s assurances of help were trustworthy.

“What I’m saying is… If he is so willing to get rid of The Atreides just because he considers them to be dangerous… He might do the same to us one day. We are a real danger to him way more than any Atreides is,” you pointed out.

“Especially now when we have knowledge that can turn other leaders against him and…” Rabban’s words were interrupted by the heavy black doors opening rapidly. You flinched and instinctively hid behind your brother-in-law’s broad shoulders.

It was Feyd-Rautha himself walking inside with an angry look on his face. Wearing his gladiator gear stained with fresh blood and still wielding two bloody swords. He looked ferocious as his cold eyes searched for you. When he spotted you behind his brother, his jaw clenched and so did his fists on the handles of the blades.

“What is going on here?” He barked as you and Rabban looked at each other, questioningly.

“Husband,” you tried to be brave as you took a step ahead to approach him very carefully. “I see you’re finished now. I assume you’ve won.”

“(Y/N), wait,” Rabban grabbed your sleeve to keep you in place. He didn’t want you near Feyd in such a state. But Feyd didn’t like his brother’s gesture.

“Let her go, brother,” he snapped. “She is my wife and she will approach me if she wishes. I would never lay my hand on her,” he drawled through gritted teeth.

You felt Rabban’s fingers letting go of the fabric of your dress and you walked up to Feyd. Something inside you was telling you that he needed you at that moment. Perhaps that was the intuition of a wife.

“Oh, we all know that you don’t lay your hand on her at all, brother,” Rabban snorted at him.

You watched in terror how your husband’s face became even more angry than before. He yelled and attacked his brother with all the burning wrath he had before been trying to stop from outbursting with.

“No! Stop! Please,” you pleaded as they fought and struggled one against another. Rabban took out his own blade now, too, and they ended up wrestling on the floor like two children. “That is enough, please!” You cried out.

Your tears brought attention to only one of them – your husband. He was distracted by them and ended up with his brother’s blade pointed at his face. You froze and Rabban laughed with contempt.

“Such a great warrior you are, my brother. Trained day and night for years, got your little arena shows… And now you got distracted by a woman,” he pointed out.

“That woman is my wife,” Feyd drawled.

You looked around in panic but the guards stood there petrified. They were afraid to attack any of the brothers. Usually shy and timid, you felt an odd outburst of courage as you took a blade from the guard standing nearby. He did not protest but only watched in terror as you approached the brothers and pointed the blade at Count Rabban himself.

“Don’t be stupid,” he laughed at you.

“Let my husband go,” your voice shivered but you managed to stand your ground.

“Or what?” Rabban sneered. “We both know you won’t strike me.”

In that very moment Feyd kicked him and got out of the direction of his brother’s blade. He ended up on top with his own knife pointed at Rabban. A smirk on his face revealed that he had never been defeated even for a second, he was only toying with his brother… and with you, too.

“She might not but I will,” Feyd hissed at his brother. “My marriage is none of your business, brother. And you stay away from my wife.”

“I am only representing you during the councils,” you tried to explain and Feyd looked up at you with his brow furrowed. “Your uncle told me I should because you rarely take place in them.”

“He’s scheming, can’t you see? Trying to turn us against each other. Thought you were smarter than this,” his anger was directed at you now.

He let go of Rabban and stood up to walk out of the room. You swallowed thickly and lowered your blade, scared of your brother-in-law’s reaction now when you were left alone with him after threatening him.

“Why did you take his side?” He only asked as you gave the blade back to the guard. “He doesn’t treat you any good. He never will.”

“He is my husband,” you explained quietly, avoiding his curious gaze.

“By name only. Your marriage is not even consummated.”

“Feyd was right,” you looked up. “Our marriage is none of your business, brother,” you emphasised who he was to you now before walking out to follow Feyd. It was easy because he left a trail of sand and blood from the arena behind him.

He went to your chambers so you took a deep breath in and pushed the doors open to face him in all his wrath and anger. He was struggling to get out of his gear with shaky hands as he shot you a furious glance over his shoulder.

“Should I call for the servants?” You asked.

“No,” he snapped and you sighed before approaching him and helping him yourself. At first he tried to shake you off but you were stubborn so he gave up and allowed your gentle fingertips to work on the pieces of clothing. “How do you even know how to do that?” He asked. “Did Rabban show you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, dear husband. I’ve read dozens of books about The Harkonnen art of warfare. I know your gears by heart. And Rabban is no gladiator,” you explained.

“Dozens of books about the art of warfare and The Harkonnens and yet it slipped your mind what masters of manipulation we can be?” Feyd barked at you and you chuckled. He didn’t find it amusing as he looked you up and down with contempt so you leaned in and placed a kiss upon his soft lips while your hands cupped his face. He was visibly taken aback by that, he didn’t even close his eyes for the kiss and he continued to observe you as if you would attack him any second.

“I have studied everything like a good pupil I was,” you whispered after breaking the kiss. Your hands kept caressing his cheeks in a soothing manner. “And now I’m one of The Baron’s closest people. I’m your inside man, Feyd-Rautha,” you smiled gently and his eyes sparkled at the realisation.

“But… why?” He only asked, confused.

“What do you mean why?” You bit on your lower lip.

“I’ve been treating you… coldly,” he admitted.

“Well, that is another matter. But that is between you and me. The marriage is between a husband and a wife. Not between them and his uncle or brother,” you explained. “I still remember that big fat spider. I’ve known ever since I was twelve years old that the thing you crave the most is to gut your uncle like you did to that monstrosity in the dungeons. And as your wife… I will do everything I can to help you,” you assured him.

But Feyd was not convinced. He pushed you away although he did it way gentler than you’d expect. He walked away from you as he stepped out of the pile of clothes by his feet. He was wearing nothing but underwear now and you watched how his muscular body glistened with sweat after the fight. 

“You can be a double agent, wife. I don’t trust you,” he confessed.

“You have no reasons to,” you nodded. “Except for the fact we have fate and destiny bonding us. Am I the only one feeling this when we touch?” Your voice lowered as uncertainty began to grow inside of you. Perhaps you were. Perhaps you were the only one feeling that warmth indeed.

“No,” Feyd admitted, nearly inaudibly. “Why do you think I can’t fuck you?” He approached you again and you gasped at how close he chose to stand.

“Because you find me unattractive? Or boring perhaps,” you shrugged your arms. “I don’t care about that. Our bond is stronger than physical attraction.”

“I can’t fuck you because that feeling is overwhelming me and I don’t know what to do. I’ve never felt like that. You’re too pure for me,” he confessed, visibly uncomfortable with his own words as he looked away.

You were stunned for a moment.

“You’re an idiot, Feyd-Rautha,” you laughed eventually and he blushed. “I am not pure. I am flesh and blood just like you,” you told him. “For example now… When you’re standing in front of me… like this,” you allowed your hand to wander all over his hard muscles. “You’re starting a fire that will be difficult to put out later,” you looked up to meet his gaze. “Every time you start and don’t finish, you leave me in torment,” you confessed. “And nothing helps,” you pouted. “I writhe and I roll around and grow more and more bitter knowing that you’re giving your whores what you’re supposed to give me.”

He was nearly paralyzed in a way he was staring at you. You grabbed his hand and pulled your dress up to press his hand to your womanhood. You were soaking through your underwear now and he blinked a few times as his gaze intensified.

“I will never forgive myself if I break you,” Feyd took his hand away despite your protests.

“You’re breaking me by refusing to touch me,” you whined.

“Touch yourself,” he said suddenly as his eyes sparkled and you were left speechless. “Touch yourself for me. I will help you. I’ll make it feel good,” he proposed.

Out of desperation, you decided this was better than nothing – at least for now – so you agreed. As fast as possible, you got rid of your dress and remained in nothing but your sheer underdress. You laid on the bed and watched him approach you. Feyd laid next to you, observing you carefully. His eyes were admiring every curve of your body and every inch of your skin. Without waiting for his command, you pulled the underdress up and took off your underwear to toss the panties aside and start playing with your wet folds. It was embarrassing to see him watch but it also excited you in some twisted way. You toyed with your clit, moaning softly, showing him what kind of pleasure you could bring to yourself – what kind of pleasure you had to bring to yourself since he refused to do so.

“Easy, slow down,” Feyd breathed out and placed his rough hand on your waist. He was caressing you and joined your lips together in a sloppy kiss. His free hand undid the ribbon on the top of your underdress to free your breasts. They shivered under the touch of his big hand as he played with your nipples and buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your sweet scent and sucking on the sensitive skin below your ear.

You shut your eyes close, trying to focus on the pleasure as your fingers rubbed on your sensitive swollen clit but it was not enough. It never was.

“I can’t…” You admitted your defeat as you tried to catch a breath.

“Yes, you can,” Feyd whispered into your ear in that low, raspy voice of his that sent shivers down your body and straight to your core. “What’s stopping you?”

“It’s just… I don’t know…” You didn’t know how to find the right words. “It’s not enough,” you admitted. “It’s not you.”

“Let me, then,” he raised himself to look into your eyes as his hand moved your hand away and his fingers replaced yours on your exposed clit. You gasped at the feeling of his fingertips drawing circles and teasing your entrance. 

You pressed your hands to his chest and then you moved them lower to explore the hard muscles of his abs. To feel them underneath your fingers was enough to make your back arch needily, exposing even more of your hungry pussy. Feyd smirked at that and buried his fingers deep inside as you gasped out of pain but it was quickly replaced with pleasure.

His free hand grabbed your chin gently and when you looked up, batting your eyelashes and opening your lips slightly, he put his fingers inside of your mouth and you grabbed his wrist to hold on to it as you sucked and moaned. His other hand was bringing you close to your release as his movements were fast and rough and his thumb circled your clit.

You cried out but his fingers muffled it so you ended up choking on the sound escaping your lips as you came writhing under him with sweaty forehead and single hair strands sticking to your face, your whole body set on fire, trying to catch a breath. Feyd swallowed thickly as his eyes sparkled.

You yelped as he smacked your sensitive pussy right after pulling his fingers out of it and licking them clean, looking deep into your eyes. You were speechless as your mind was left thoughtless.

You could only watch him lower himself and open your thighs even further with his strong arms as he buried his face between your legs to lap on your juices. You were sensitive so it burned in the beginning but the uncomfortable feeling submerged into pleasure once again. Feyd’s tongue was cleaning your folds thoroughly and penetrating you while you threw your head back as you laid your hands on the back of his neck, keeping him close. But this time he didn’t let you cum so easily.

When you were about to reach the peak again, he moved his head away and the next thing you saw was his face right in front of yours, his chin dripping with your wetness and his cold eyes filled with so much fire that you felt like a prey trapped by a big predator.

But you loved that feeling. You loved to feel small and tiny under him, trapped, vulnerable. You dug your nails into his biceps and looked down. He had already tossed his underwear aside and his cock was hard now, swollen and aching for you, you could see it twitching and leaking black precum. He looked heavy and big and you wanted him badly to claim you and violate you to the point no other man would ever even think of touching you after him.

You had never made him that hard. You had never gone so far before. You were sure you’d succeed now.

“Take me, claim me, make me yours,” you pleaded. “Please, I want more of you.”

Feyd shut you up with a kiss and a strong, stinging pain of his hard cock finally penetrating you. Your eyes widened as you whined. He intertwined your fingers together and held you through the process of adjustment to his size. You were the first one to impatiently rock your hips to show him you wanted him to move. So he did, slowly and carefully. He winced from his attempts to keep himself in control and you let go of his hands to pull him closer by his shoulders and deepen the kiss.

You moaned softly and helped him to fuck you by you rocking your hips against him as your legs wrapped around his waist. You both had been waiting so long for this moment of unity that it didn’t take long for you two to reach your highs and the familiar feeling of warmth filled you whole. You didn’t remember your own name, the only thing you knew was that you were home and the man above you was destined for you; you were born to be his wife and he was born to be your husband. The thousands of years of manipulation of the bloodlines had led you to this moment and nothing could tear you apart now. No amount of rumours, scheming or the disability to show emotions.

You were catching your breath as Feyd was slowly coming back from his high above you, panting heavily and looking at your face with hazy eyes.

“You belong to me,” he leaned in to kiss your lips again. “You always have.”

“No matter what happens, we are one,” you agreed with a nod and intertwined your fingers with him as you held his hand. “Now, when that is settled, we shall focus on our most important task.”

“And that is?”

“Killing the fat spider in his nest,” you answered.

“Thankfully, we have experience,” Feyd teased before placing yet another soft kiss upon your parted lips.

MASTERLIST

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #austin butler x reader #lilysfiction

[whosjunglejim4322]

Saccharine - E.M

Warnings ® smut! Fluff, soft bf Eddie<3, first time sex as a couple! Nasty IN LOVE smut bc this bitch is a hopeless romantic! Eddie is super sensitive, Established relationship, you stroke his dick, Eddie almost cums in his pants, lil bit of dry humping, this is incredibly self indulgent but u didn't hear that from me, overly descriptive bc why not

You shouldn't be nervous, really. It's just Eddie, who is your boyfriend of three months and twenty-six days. Who is sitting across from you on his creaky mattress criss-cross style, your knees touching. Your Eddie, who has two big hands flailing in the air as he goes on about the recent campaign, broad mouth etched into a whimsical smile, big eyes wondrous and full of excitement for the tale.

The bed bounces with his enthusiasm, and you draw closer to him with each syllable.

Your Eddie, who is doing nothing out of the ordinary, and who is as beautiful as ever in loose fitting plaid pyjama bottoms and a tattered black tee that exposes half of his collarbone and smudges of black ink - he doesn't even have to try, and perhaps these simple mundane realizations are what cause the flutter of wings in the pit of your stomach.

"And then Mike - hey, you okay?"

If it weren't for his vast change in expression, you truly wouldn't have realized what a trance you're in. Between the furrow of his unkempt brows and the amused but curious tilt at the corner of his mouth, you come back to earth. The weight of gravity settles in your bone marrow, as his calloused thumb quickly strokes your chin as if to remind you he is still here.

"I - yeah yeah, sorry I just," you grab his hand by the heaviness of his wrist, dragging it into your lap so you can stroke the back of his rough knuckles. "got distracted s'all."

Your eyes divert to where your fingers are joined and the sound of his airy, through-the-nose chuckle has more heat blossoming behind your ribcage, nudging at your organs.

"I'll stop with the D&D talk, know you hear enough about it from the kids. There's only so much dorkiness you should be subjected to, y'know?"

It's lighthearted, he's smirking and looking down at you with enough palpable fondness the apples of your cheeks feel like they're being stroked by a flame. Still, the implication that he may be bothering you in any way has an urgency filling your eyes. You shake your head.

"No, no that never bothers me Eds, don't be silly." The nickname makes his mouth dry, still, after three months and twenty-six days. You finally meet his glance. "You're just handsome, really handsome especially when you're talking about something you're passionate about and I just...yeah."

It's word vomit, messy and you feel like it makes no sense but then he squeezes your hand and you know that he reads between the nervous mumbo jumbo - you have no clue how you make him feel, do you?

"You're fucking cute." He breathes out earnestly, smoothing his grip upwards to your forearms and pulling you forward with minimal effort - right onto the stirdiness of his lap.

Your giddiness is the perfect portrait, your arms finding a resting place atop his broad shoulders. Curls tickle the tops of your arms and your wrists, and your thighs brace your frame by the slim of his taut waist. He can't help it, the giggles escaping his throat. The proximity is intoxicating for no reason at all.

"Can't believe this is our first time spending the night together, I'm so used to falling asleep on the phone with you that it really doesn't feel all that different." He smooths your hair out of your eyes, tucks it behind your left ear.

I get to touch her like this, he thinks to himself. His chest jostles underneath the muscle and bone.

"Yeah, except I get to fall asleep with you'n my arms, wake up with you in em' too. I'm one lucky son of a bitch, hmm?"

He's practically thinking out loud, but he's too far gone to feel shame. When you nuzzle your face against the warm nook of his neck, wet lips smiling against the flesh, his encapsulating arms squeeze you impossibly tighter. He buries his nose against the top of your head, inhaling the fresh scent of your shampoo. Your cheek grazes the side of his jaw as you meet him face to face, nose to nose.

He sees you trying to formulate words, a sentence, even a sound but none of it seems like a totally accurate way to express the adoration threatening to consume you from the inside out. You graze his cheek with your mouth, slowly, tentatively, and he hangs on with half an air full of lungs.

You suckle his bottom lip and he sighs into your mouth, the relief making him lightheaded. He kicks into gear and pushes back with an overlap of his mouth - hands wandering over the small of your back, to your soft lovehandles and upwards until his fingrtips have passed your jugular and he's holding your face as tenderly as you're holding his.

It's now, when you feel it - the growing firmness beneath he thin material of his bottoms. He tries to keep it at bay but it's damn near impossible, and the whimper, the fucking whimper you let out when his soft tongue touches yours from the warm cavern of your mouth - he couldn't stop it from twitching even if he wanted to. He's only a man.

And you're a menace. As new as this is, your body reacts to the prod in between your legs, underneath your crotch. You press yourself tighter to his frame, hips scooching against his hard-on in the process and he stiffens.

"Mmm, baby baby..." your pout is immediate when he breaks from your mouth, brows furrowed and lips a kiss bitten fuschia. For a moment, you think you've taken it too far too fast - he's stopped you from moving completely. Your whole body burns with a tingly sensation somewhere between shame and the aftershocks of arousal.

"Are you...are you okay? Did I do something wrong?"

You sound so sweet, it makes his lower belly ache among other things. He stifles a laugh brcause he knows it will only make you feel worse. Something wrong. Something wrong.

"Fuck no, I-sorry I just uh...almost..." He can't bring himself to say it, you guys haven't even been kissing for five whole minutes and here he is about to blow his load. When you realize how close his dark lashes are from kissing his cheeks, how his pupils have almost turned the whole of his irises onyx, you connect the dots.

Woah, you did that to him? That moth in your belly threatens to take flight, and without much thought, your mouth is moving before you can stop it.

"I wanna see."

Those are the only words your brain allows you to spit out. His chest has gone still, and you feel that twitch against your center again. Your thighs have begun to tremble.

"You wanna see...? My cock?" He shouldn't sound so incredulous. You're his girlfriend for christ's sake, but you are important to him. More important than he ever thought anyone could be, and so he has kept his lust at a minimum of 48% when he's around you for the most part. Save for intense makeout sessions.

"Yeah, I wanna...well I wanna know how to make you feel good."

He's worried for a moment that he's having another wet dream, but he's sure this is real life because he feels how warm you are against him and you are so close he can see his own reflection in your eyes. You toy with the shell of his ear and a chill ascends his spine.

"Sweetheart if you touch me m'not gonna last long." His skin is pink and scarlet, and he's gotten at least ten degrees hotter judging by the heat billowing off of the back of his neck. His adams apple bobs when he swallows.

"That's okay, really it is. You have nothing to be embarrassed about....I like it. Like that I make you feel that way. " You rake your fingers through the front of his hair, pushing it away from his pretty face. He checks your eyes again, needing confirmation.

"Are you sure? You don't have to do anything you don't want to." He gnaws on the inside of his plush mouth, tries to calm the animal inside of him that wants to fuck your brains out right now. He almost feels guilty just thinking about it, until you lean over to peck the side of his stubbly chin, fingertips grazing his taut belly.

"Yes, really wanna."

There is a curious, nervous anticipation in the crinkle underneath your eyes.

"Kay' baby, explore all you want." The boyish smirk he gives is enough to have that knee buckling tingling sensation coming back full force as he presents himself to you like this. Does he seem as pulled together and totally not overly nervous as he thinks he does? Probably not.

His arms depart from your body, ribs expanding as he reclines on his palms. Tendons flex and stretch underneath the black bats and fuzzy layer of hair atop his forearm. You swallow, intimidated by the beauty of the boy.

You find the courage to finally move off of his lap so that you can take him all in, and the bulge of his cock swipes the underside of your thigh as you slide off.

You don't know where to touch first. That's a lie, your hands almost instinctively slip underneath the hem of his old shirt, where that dark thatch of hair trails under his belly button. He's soft, so soft it's unreal, he is velvet and delicious scarring and beauty marks. His tummy convulses underneath your hand.

He watches you with complete fixation. You have your bottom lip tucked between your teeth and you don't even realize it, all perched and pretty in front of him. He closes his eyes when you explore his sides, over the planes and arches and past the small stretch marks by his chest.

You can't ignore it anymore, the tent that has formed at his crotch and continues to throb with each passing touch.

The blunt of your nails rake down the soft plaid covering thick thighs, and he takes this sharp breath that has you glancing up at him with heavy eyes.

"So pretty...Eds you're so pretty." You say it ardently, your voice small and weak. An arm reaches down, strong but gentle as he strokes the back of your plush cheek with his ring covered knuckles.

"Can't fucking believe...can't believe you're mine, finally. Shit." He's almost murmuring to himself again, on the verge of cardiac arrest. Maybe he's losing his mind, maybe this is heaven.

Then your palm presses against the thick of his cock where it's bulging out, and his thighs spasm.

"Oh, oh." He's all curses and praises, giving you encouraging glances each time you look up at him to silently ask for guidance. You move your hand up and down what you assume is his shaft, and he keeps his hips from bucking into your touch. He feels thick, and the back of your mouth starts to water.

Without warning you're hooking your fingers into his waistband, and he lifts his hips in compliance so that you can pull them down to his mid thigh. He has no time for nerves anymore. Any fear he previously had about what his dick looks like, or what you'll think of it, is stripped along with his clothing. You're looking at him with too much love for him to be insecure - and that takes him by surprise the most.

At this point his checkered boxers are just in the way, and you take it upon yourself to pull those down too. A thud hits his belly.

And really, you should've known. He's big. Not because he's impossibly long, his size is above average but he's thick - the tip iridescent with precum, the same shade of plum as his lips underneath the slick sheen. He is slightly curved upwards, a prominent vein decorating the underside parallel to his frenulum. It's pretty, just like the rest of him. He's neatly trimmed, which is the most surprising part if you're honest - but nothing about Eddie could ever be displeasing to look at.

Your mouth is parted with this expression of surprise, and Eddie almost can't believe what this is doing for his ego.

"Woah." Is all you say, transfixed when you reach out to grasp the appendage. He hisses through his teeth when your small hand finally grasps it, so fucking warm and so gentle it's almost maddening. You both feel it, the invisible weight that has settled in his small, messy room.

The weight of being alone, together, all night and all of tomorrow afternoon while his uncle Wayne is away on a business trip that is probably more lucrative than what he leads on - but Wayne has never been one to boast or speak about things like that out loud. Says it'll jinx the whole thing.

The feeling hits you first, as you find this foreign courage to lean over and dribble spit over the slit of his cock. He gasps, watching the glob of saliva drip down the front of his dick till it's soaking into the curls at his pubic mound.

"Is this okay?" You already know the answer but you ask anyways, taking more pride than you should at the expression on the pretty metalheads face. He nods his head fervently, unable to respond right away.

You twist your palm, spreading your spit further until his whole head is covered and you're able to stroke him with no resistance.

"Fuuuck, yes. Yeah, that's so good baby." He's panting as you begin to properly jerk the tip of him off, the sounds in the room too lewd for you to handle. A squelchy feeling has developed between your thighs, led by each filthy groan that leaves your boyfriend's throat.

Then you're looking at him through fluttery lashes and a gone expression, with your chest rising and falling almost as rapidly as his and thick fingers grasp your wrist quickly, rougher than anticipated.

"Sorry, just - close."

Seeing his hand blanket yours over his cock is doing something to you. You know his palms like your own, hold them more than you look at your own, and yet right now such a sweet thing has never been more provocative.

"Shh, no more apologizing," you lean over and he meets you in the middle. The kiss is sloppy this time, evidence of the maddening desire taking him over from the inside out.

"Not fair," his voice is strained through your mouths ministrations. "Got me all worked up and you're sitting there neglected." He smiles and his tongue strokes your bottom lip. You shudder as that heat comes in an overwhelming wave.

He's gripping the back of your neck now, properly hungry and your hand continues its ministrations between your bodies, that wet sound prompting a shared groan from the both of you - intensifying the feeling. His nose is scrunched against your cheek from the vigour of his kisses.

"You can undress me."

He doesn't waste time once you've granted him verbal permission, and with an exhale you're being tipped over onto your back, breathing in the weight of him as nimble and eager fingers pull his tee shirt over and off your body.

"Jesus," He whines, and you're captivated by the look on his face. It's impossible not to feel flustered.

"Can I-" you don't let him finish.

"Yes, please touch me." You're just as fucked as he is, arching your chest upwards and into the warm, all encompassing mass of his palm. He stifles a groan, cock bobbing up and down in the space between you two, dribbling with a bead of pre arousal. You feel like you're losing your mind.

Eddie short circuits for about five whole seconds flat, and he can't concentrate. He makes a bee - line to your chest, plush lips sucking your swollen nipples into his mouth. A gasp and a pulse of your poor clit later, and your fingers delve into his curls like they'll keep you here in this moment forever.

He's sloppy, moving between the valley of your breasts to the other one, leaving trails of spit across your flesh.

"Eddie, that - that feels so good, can't - mmph." You're a mess. How are you such a mess? He's a phantom, a head of hair across your sternum until he glances up at you with saliva soaked lips and red cheeks and a sweaty forehead.

"Sweet girl, oh god I can't believe..." All you taste is him, the words being uttered between the space when he forces himself to breathe. "can't believe you're all mine, wanna make you feel so fucking good. Give you anythin' you want."

He lies his full weight on you, and through the thin sleeping shorts you've got on, his cock beckons you with throbs and weeps. You feel drunk off of him, every sense surrounded by Eddie. Eddie. Eddie.

His shampoo from two days ago, the old spice lingering under his arms, the natural scent of his skin, the sweetness of his breath and the perspiration that's formed in little beads on his upper lip. He's all but devouring you, lust and admiration for the angel beneath him taking over any sense of importance regarding anything else.

Your heels dig into the back of his bum, knees pulling inward so that his hips come clashing into yours. Your fingernails claw on the material covering his back, taking it upon themselves to pull it over his head. He's beaming like a kid in a candy store at your eagerness, eyes all crinkly underneath.

"Want me to grab a rubber now?" He mumbles between the sloppy kisses, hoping you can't hear the hitch in his throat at the prospect of this finally happening.

"Mhmm, yes." It feels just as surreal for you.

He whines as he departs, reaching over across your head to pull open his bedside drawer and ungracefully tear open the new box of condoms. His eyebrows are furrowed, arms flexing with intensity from his excitement. He groans out of frustration, and you giggle, grasping his thick forearm.

"Let me help baby." You reach in the drawer for him and pull the box out, finishing the rip he'd made and pulling out a metallic row of squares. You tear one at the perforation and hand it to him, grinning at the entire situation. He huffs and rests his forehead between the valley of your breasts.

"What would I do without you?" He mutters, matching your expression when he lifts his head back up and pushes forward to kiss you on the tip of your nose.

"Not have sex, I suppose." You bite back with no hint of malice, only an insurmountable level of love and he sees it shimmering everywhere around you. His girl. His.

"You're somethin' else, sweetheart." He mouths the side of your face, across your jaw and underneath your ear.

You feel like you're in a psychological limbo, in a world between consciousness as he sits back on his haunches and lifts his shirt off of his body from the back of his collar. That may be a dramatic sentiment to many, but it's fitting.

He does it so casually, throws his shirt to the side with the rest of discarded clothing and stray items that live on his bedroom floor. You feel weak in the knees when he tears the condom package and pulls out the slippery rubber, unraveling it before bringing it down to his cock.

You watch his face the way his pink tongue darts out and nips the tip of his tongue, brows furrowed in concentration and arousal as he fits the condom down his thick shaft. You watch his biceps twist, his taut abdomen clench, the black ink coming alive with the ministrations of his muscles underneath.

When he meets your eyes again, you look completely overtaken with desire, eyelids heavy and breath bated. Your pebbled nipples stand at full attention, mimicking his dick and Eddie hooks his fingers underneath those infuriatingly sexy shorts of yours so that he can get rid of them.

You're not wearing underwear. Of course you aren't. Your entire existence is specifically designed to test the bounds of his composure, of his strength. The gold room lighting from his lamp illuminates your body and your shy thighs only part when he's placing his palms between them, slowly encouraging them to allow him a peek or two.

You reach out to stroke his arms as he separates your legs, his jaw hanging ever so slack, cock twitching just a few centimeters away from your opening.

"Fucking hell...you're so goddamn pretty." He strains, swallowing hard as he touches you with hesitant hands, as if he's scared to break you. Your hips lift, just enough to make contact with the tip of his dick and you whine. It's a sound so sweet he almost whimpers himself.

"Please, Eds. I want you inside of me. Please."

His stomach tightens and he crawls over you once again, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

He maintains eye contact, breath fanning your mouth as he slips an arm between your bodies and grips his shaft, lining it up with your entrance. Your thighs lift towards your chest, ankles stationed at his waist, and you feel the welcome intrusion of his tip as it passes your slick labia.

You both take a breath in, your fingers needing a vice and moving to the back of his neck as he pivots his hips forward and slips himself into the tightness of your cunt. The stretch causes you to hiss, both in pleasure and pain.

"You okay? Let me know if I need to stop." He grunts, kissing your chin.

"M'okay, don't you dare stop."

His eyelids flutter in tandem with yours, a choked moan leaving his throat as he continues to push himself in, till he's nudging against the soft roundness of your cervix and his balls are resting against your ass.

It feels right. Having him this deep, this close.

You shudder nuzzling your face against the bicep that holds him up. You kiss the skin there and he groans, dragging himself back out and then back in. Your whole body jostles with the movement.

"Jesus Christ, how do you feel s'fucking good? I don't - I can't, fuck." He's a slur of words, beginning to form a steady rhythm. Your moans are more like squeaks the faster he goes, increasing the lewd, sticky sounds between your legs that squelch with each drag and pull of his cock.

"Eddie...E-eddie." Your words are hiccuped from the impact, his hair dangling in your face, tickling your cheeks. His belly is pressed right against yours, the curls at the mound of his pelvis pressed against yours. He lets out this pained sound and goes to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

"My name, fuck say it again. Say it again." It's muffled but you can hear it right underneath your ear, his lips a soft vibration against your flesh. You feel so full, it's hard to speak at all. To say anything other than his name. So you recite it like it's the only words you know.

"Eddie Eddie Eddie Eddie." They're all punctuated with a whimper that starts from your diaphragm and crawls it's way out of your throat, pistoned by his hips and their grueling ministrations. Skin against skin can be heard from down the park, you're convinced, with how he's fucking you.

Eddie is fucking you. Your boyfriend, Eddie, is fucking you.

"Ohhhh, god, please." You cry out, heels digging into his back, hands splayed across the broad expanse of his shoulder blades. Every breath that passes his lips is followed by a grunt, a groan, a sound that is so close to agony and even closer to toe curling pleasure.

Each stroke of his cock inside of you feels like a pull into his being, and you get frustrated with the fact that you can't see his face, tugging at the back of his neck.

When you look up at the boy above you, reality, for once, feels like the most beautiful thing you've ever endured.

He's flushed, all sweat and shades of pink and red. His eyes are glassy, mirroring yours in the way that it almost looks like he could shed a tear. You move his sticky bangs from his forehead and Eddie is sucker punched in the gut with a wave of adoration.

"Oh, sweetheart," he leans down, slowing his thrusts so that he can kiss you steadily, purposefully. Somehow he feels deeper this way impossibly so, and he nips your bottom lip when you flutter around him. "didn't mean to...to not show you attention m'sorry, just...you feel so good. S'like heaven."

He's half sober half drunk on your pussy and it's so fucking endearing. Neither of you can make out a coherent sentence.

"Keep - keep going, just like that, ohhh." You glance down between your bodies and somewhere behind your organs a warmth, teetering unbearable, flutters throughout your limbs. His arms shake with the fight to hold himself up, until he doesn't anymore, and slips his hands underneath you till they're sandwiched between the mattress and your back. Snug, safe, he engulfs you.

His thrusts are deep and slow now, meaningful instead of mindless bunny fucking. Which, he's not opposed to, but you're you. He wants to fuck you like he might not ever get the chance to again.

"I love you, I love you." He whimpers against the crook of your shoulder. You hold him with the same ferocity that he's holding you, staring up at the ceiling and the stars that blanket your vision instead of the fan above.

"I love you too, fuck, Eddie."

He makes this noise, it's almost pathetic. Petulant. That coil holding you tight, snaps and all at once you're gasping, thighs a deadly grip around his waist.

"Cu-Cumming, I'm cumming." Your walls flex and spasm around his length and Eddie thinks he might pass out. You're still twitching and whining his name with his balls are emptying, when he's spurting into the condom, nudging your cervix.

"Fuck, fuck just like tha- ohhh fuck." He thrusts like he's fucking his cum into you, like he's filling your womb up and making you his forever. He made you cum. He's never felt this high before, and he's a fucking drug dealer.

It's a mixture of panting and the thud of your shared heartbeat for what feels like eternity and one split second. You feel his lips peppering soft, gentle kisses along your jugular, and your fingers trace lines up and down his warm back as his cock softens inside of you.

He rubs his cheek against you, and your fingers pull his hair away from his pretty face. He's looking at you with so much love you could burst again.

"I love you so much." He speaks tenderly, softly, for once. It's scary and breathtaking all at once. The tip of his nose rubs yours, your smiles a reflection of the other.

"I love you too, Munson."

And you do. You really fucking do.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #joseph quinn #stranger things #stranger things x reader #joseph quinn x reader #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson has my heart

[targaryenluvs]

Hi, how are you? Could you make a request for Anthony Bridgerton 🙈 please.

I was thinking something along the lines of Penelope and Colin. When Colin says he would never court Penelope. But in this case Anthony tells Benedict that he would never court reader. And Benedict tells him that he will be the one to woo her. Sad ending or happy ending. I leave it in your hands 🤗✨.

Have a good week ✨ thank you.

i love this, and benedict bridgerton <3

nothing better

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader, anthony bridgerton x fem!reader (platonic)

summary: benedict has loved you for so long, but he always assumed you’d want anthony and he wanted you. but when the opportunity presents itself to be with you he dives headfirst.

warnings: swearing, kisses??

a/n: hope you like itttt, it might be a little short but quality over quantity???: i love benedict ugh can’t wait for his season

the party was insufferable.

benedict wanted nothing more than to be at home, drawing, you specifically.

the day you learned of his talent you’d praised him every day for it. and you’d been pestering him for oh so long to draw your portrait but he always politely declined. believing a professional to be more accurate than himself but he honestly believed that he, nor any other, could incorporate all of your beauty in one sketch.

and he was scared of messing it up, and he also wondered what his brother would think.

anthony. smart, handsome, eligible, viscount anthony bridgerton.

the one you’d marry.

or so it seemed to everyone as the two of you danced hand in hand. everyone’s eyes were on the two of you as you practically glided across the floor. as the music slowed and the couples dispersed he found himself holding his breath as you came towards him.

“anthony is terrible to dance with, he keeps blaming me for stepping on his feet but he moves so slow at times, he’s always looking off into the distance.” you laughed as benedict smiled, “i promise you y/n, a dance with me will leave you more than well satisfied.” benedict teased as you gasped, “benedict bridgerton! the scandalous man you are.” as you laughed he couldn’t help but admire you. your hair was up with only two strands in the front, curled. a sweet tiara in the middle of your head, a gorgeous baby pink dress and and equally gorgeous owner.

“you look-”

“like a cake? a biscuit? a rose perhaps?” you joked.

“i was going to say breathtaking. you look, breathtaking, y/n. no one else here can compare.” he spoke in awe.

your eyes flickered to his, god he looked amazing. but he was probably only saying this to be nice right? his sisters friend, daphnes other half. nothing more, he grew up with you, saw you as a sister.

he wondered if you’d return the compliment, or thank him, or just smile and nod. god he said wanted more than a nod. you looked untouchable. and the way you looked at him, benedict was lost. not only in your eyes but in his head and heart. he sees you dance and talk to numerous respectable men every day. you smile and laugh, completely polite. but then you look at him, with those beautiful brown eyes and he looses all trains of thought. and as respectful as those other men are, he could never put himself in the same category as them.

because the thoughts that he didn’t loose, were truly inappropriate.

the heavy footsteps from behind you snapped the two of you out of the trance as anthony approached. “brother, lady y/n.” he smiled as you smiled back. “i’ll leave you two be.”

“are you alright brother?”

he didn’t mean to snap. the words just spilled out.

“are you going to court her or not?”

anthony’s brows furrowed as he was taken aback by his brothers direct manner, all sense of the usual playfulness was lost. “who? y/n? no of course not. i would never dream of courting y/n l/n. she’s like a sister to me.”

“then why do you dance with her so? take her out so often, promenade with her? for what? my god everyone thinks the two you are courting.” anthony released a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

he’d only been having fun with a friend. it was so refreshing to be able to talk to someone who didn’t wonder what the viscount was up to, who he was with, when he was going to marry. y/n eased his tensions and she the best friend he’d never had, she made him feel like a young boy again, which anthony had all but forgotten the feeling of.

“benedict, it was not my intention this i promise you brother. i know how much you love and if i led you or anyone else to believe our relationship was anything besides familial love and companionship than i truly apologise. you need to let her know before it’s too late.”

benedict felt his heart lurch at the idea of finally being with you. and with anthony’s blessing and urging him along he was off to find you.

the air was cold, but anything was better than that stuffy ballroom inside. gods you couldn’t wait for the season to be over. it was only your first, same as the diamond of the season, also known as your best friend daphne bridgerton but all the cakes, gossip, drama and fake smiles? you’d had enough to last forever. the only problem with the season being over was that you’d most likely be travelling to your country estate. which meant that you’d be spending time with your extended family rather than the family besides your own that you wanted to be with.

the person you wanted to be with.

“y/n! there you are.” benedict shouted as he bent over, catching his breath. even slightly sweaty and disheveled benedict was a god in your eyes, no one inside could even come close.

“ben, come sit!” you patted the swing next to you as he gladly sat down, the air was a refreshing after the long night he’d had, and your smiling face was enough for his heart to race again.

“y/n, as much as i’d like to sit and swing with you i have to tell you something, it’s urgent.” he spoke softly. the moon was bright, the air cold and benedict had a soft glow of light on his right side. his voice could so easily lull you to sleep out here as it had done so many times before but his eyes were alert, so you smiled again and nodded, “continue.”

“y/n, i’ve known you for so long. and i’ve- i’ve never been able to tell you how i truly feel about you. i always thought anthony had your eye and”

“anthony?!” you screeched as benedict hushed you with a hand over your mouth. “sweetheart you can’t be so loud out here, wouldn’t want someone to come across us now would we?” he joked as his eyes crinkled at the edges, now there’s the benedict you knew. “ben, i’ve never had romantic feelings for anthony, hes always been a brother to me. besides i’ve had my eye on another bridgerton for a long time.”

“oh? and who could that be?” benedict was praying to every god he could conjure in his head. me. me. me. let it be me please.

“you.”

he couldn’t help himself as he kissed you, he’d waited far too long for it.

and it was so worth it.

everything he couldn’t even begin to express with words, he put into the kiss, your first of many. “i love you. i love you y/n l/n and i can only pray you love me a quarter as much. you are everything i’ve ever wanted, and i have you now. you were family before but now? youre officially a bridgerton, we should throw a parade.” benedict laughed as you smacked his arm, “finally! my plan to marry daphne has been thrown into motion!”

“excuse me?” daphne shouted as yourself and benedict leaned into eachother, laughing up a storm.

there was nothing that could compare to the man infront of you.

nothing better.

#benedict bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x fem!reader #benedict bridgerton x y/n

[luveline]

𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 | 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

one | two

Finding out you're a princess isn't half as intimidating as suddenly acquiring a full-time bodyguard. Especially when that bodyguard is disarmingly handsome, charming, and can't seem to stop flirting with you.

bodyguard!james, fem!reader, shy!reader, princess diaries au (sort of), all characters in their 20s or older, star-crossed lovers/ forbidden romance james isn't flirty this chapter i lied but he will be <3

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

You're in the process of ruining your pyjama bottoms with willow charcoal when your father dies. 

The charcoal is fragile, unhoused, and it snaps with too much pressure. An uneven half falls between the sheets of your sketchbook, marring the artwork it rolls over indiscriminately. 

You sigh without thinking and rub your tired eyes, spreading a line of smudgy black under your brow. Squinting, you peek at the portrait you'd been drawing. A young woman with deep, dark skin, her cheek shaded by the leaves of a sycamore tree. The branches arc over her skin in shadowed lines, sunlight dappling illustrated by sparse triangles of the white paper underneath. 

It had been an okay sketch. The snapped charcoal distracts from what you'd originally set out to do — a dynamic, revealing portrait — and instead replaces it with a more abstract feel. 

You sigh again, this time with a melodrama you'd only ever feel comfortable displaying alone. Thankfully, that's the case more often than not. You live by yourself, no partner, no pets, nobody around to see you drop your sketchbook onto the floor beside your bed, kick out your feet toward the rug, and moan. Your socks slide against the hardwood. You kick them like a child as you slip down the side of the bed, shirt caught behind you, soft middle exposed. 

You swear to yourself quietly, pressing the backs of your hands to your eyes. 

A sharp trilling sound chimes. On the nightstand, your phone vibrates hard, and the water in the glass next to it crests against the sides like tiny shockwaves. 

You pull it into your lap and stare at the number. It goes to voicemail, and then it rings again. Again, again, and again.

You consider turning your phone off. Five phone calls and counting indicates an emergency, but every cell begs to avoid whatever it is on the other side. 

You can't avoid everything, no matter how much you want to. You answer the phone. 

"Hello," you greet.

The muffled echo of a cheerful voice responds.

"Yeah, that's me… Okay. Yeah, now is fine."

More chattering. Less cheerful, diplomatic.

"My father?" you ask.

You are told two impossible truths. 

"Oh," you say. The walls spin. "Right." 

—

"I hate flying," Sirius mutters.

James hums, noncommittal. 

"You know, my good looks are wasted if we end up lost in the middle of the Atlantic ocean."

"It's not the middle of the Atlantic ocean," Remus says, sounding about as interested in Sirius' whining as James is currently. "It's an arm." 

"It's the fucking English channel," James says. It's barely the ocean. "How much do you reckon a pair of in flight headphones will cost?" 

Sirius, despite his anxiety, has the bandwidth to appreciate James' bad mood. "What crawled up your arse?"  

James sinks down into his seat, knees immediately pressed into the hard plastic of the chair in front, back aching and head heavy from a lack of rest he won't make up anytime soon. 

"He's agitated," Remus says. 

"Helpful, Moony. Super helpful."

"Fuck yourself, then," Remus says, pulling his sleep mask over his eyes and plugging in his earbuds.

The tannoy dings. The seatbelt light flashes. 

A flight attendant raises his voice from the start of the aisle. "If everybody could take their seats and buckle in, we'll be taking off in less than two minutes. Please turn all electronics to aeroplane mode. Thanks so much."  

"Is your phone off?" Sirius asks. 

"No, I actually want us to drown in the channel, but thanks for asking." 

A dark shock of curls lands against his shoulder. Sirius drapes himself unabashedly across James lap, hand on his friend's thigh, ankle crossing over ankle. Genovian through and through, Sirius doles out affection wantonly, smelling ridiculously nice as he does: a heady smell like browned sugar and citrus blossoms coalescing tickles the inside of James' nose. 

"Are you still cranky that you got demoted?" Sirius asks, smooth tones pitched into bubbly baby talk. 

"I didn't get demoted," James argues. 

James had, in fact, been demoted. 

"No, of course not. You've fallen from third guard to the Royal Prince of Genovia, may he rest in peace, to glorified babysitter of said Prince's illegitimate, forgotten child. Sounds the same to me." 

"Then we agree," James says, wanting to close his eyes. 

He'd pretend to sleep if he thought Sirius would believe it. Growing up together erases any semblance of privacy. Sirius knows James as James knows Sirius, and as they know Remus. Remus likely knows them all better than he'd ever admit, the youngest of the trio and the smartest, most perceptive man James has ever met. 

Sirius isn't perceptive, he's vigilant. He can read even the smallest signs of unrest, and it makes him uneasy. There will likely always be a shadow cast over him from a rough childhood, and while James is in a god awful mood, he reaches out to alleviate Sirius' anxiety. 

"I'm fine," James assures him, "just tired." Not mad at you goes unsaid. 

"It won't be as bad as you're thinking." 

"I'm fine. I'm not worried. Didn't sleep last night, and," —he grins as Sirius clasps his arm, their seats shaking underneath them, the plane beginning its race across tarmac— "some scrawny git is squeezing fuck out of my arm." 

Sirius flinches away from him. "You're annoying." 

James presses his shoe up to the side of Sirius' and leans back in his chair, wincing at the rattling carriage as they take off, and again when he remembers where they're going. You wait in London, though nobody in the task force assigned to your assimilation or the advisement team could come to explain how you'd ended up there. Your Genovian citizenship is unacknowledged on your passport, your birth certificate, even, and as far as Lily had been able to suss, you have little understanding of who you are. 

"She sounded tired, mostly," Lily had said when pressed for details about the new princess' personality. "In shock. Slightly disbelieving, but could you believe it?" 

Lily, James'... friend, and work colleague at a stretch, is an ambassador for the UK and full-time genovian resident. Along with a handful of other representatives and officials, she’d been responsible for opening the talks between Genovia and yourself. That is to say, she'd broken the news. 

Surprise! Your dad just died! Double surprise, you're a princess. And, no pressure or anything, but we kind of need you to come back to Genovia to maintain the royal lineage before your grandmother abdicates the throne (unwillingly). 

"Did you mention the tiara?" he'd asked Lily. The Princess' diadem, a master craftsmanship of silver-gold with a diamond the size of an apple. 

"Weirdly, Potter, I didn’t mention the jewellery." 

He supposes there hadn't been time to weasel that tidbit in between condolences and recruitment. 

You haven't promised anything in ways of returning to Genova or taking up the mantle. James understands. If he were in your shoes, he likely would've laughed down the line and blocked the number. You’d shown incredible promise as a future leader, agreeing to meet with Lily and her team at the Genovian embassy. Then, a day later, they'd modified the plan and asked if you'd be okay meeting somewhere more private. 

You'd said yes. 

As someone who may be very involved in your bodily safety in the near future, James thinks you're an idiot. Somebody calls you, claiming that you're a princess, though nobody has ever bothered telling you this before because you were never heir apparent, and that they'll tell you more should you deign to meet with them in a place with meagre surveillance, and you say yes to this?

How you've survived as long as you have is a mystery. 

He hopes you won't make his job difficult. Isn't that what everyone hopes? He feels guilty for judging you without meeting you, promising in his head to be nicer to you in actuality. You're probably grieving and definitely confused. He shouldn't be worrying about his job. 

Redetermined, James lets the anxiety of his new assignment water down. 

Sirius is thinking along the same lines: how easy will you make his particular occupation. "Bets are on. Scruffy or sweet?" 

"Huh?" James asks, pretending he doesn't understand in hopes of rectifying Sirius' attitude. 

"Slovenly or love-nly?" 

"I'm sure she's fine." 

"You should hope so, you'll be looking at the back of her head for a while." 

James rolls his eyes. 

"I'll manage, pretty or not." 

His confidence draws Sirius' curiosity. "How're you so sure?" Sirius asks, chin-lifted, light eyes narrowed in bemusement. His expression dances with the surety of somebody well-raised. He could wear a potato sack and his regal air would endeavour, deep-seeded and neat like the trim stitching of his expensive clothes. 

"Look at my face right now. Do I seem affected?" 

Sirius laughs much too loudly at the implication. "Don't act like I'm not handsome, Prongs." 

"Years of practice." James schools his features into an unaffected mask. "Uggos have no effect on me." 

"How else would you look in the mirror?" Sirius drawls. 

When Remus wakes afterward, he finds they haven't quite killed each other, though James has threatened it twice. With one hand, Black.

"Far are we?" he asks. 

Sleep has made little difference to him. He’s the kind of fatigued that can't be improved with an afternoon nap, and the kind of unwell that can't be fixed. Medicated, diminished, but never fully healed. He rolls his neck and makes three separate, unfortunate sounds, stretching his tight hands out flat over his thighs. 

"Landing any minute now is my guess," Sirius answers. "How are you feeling?" 

He waves his hand around, tired eyes locking onto James' lasting frown. "Sorry for leaving you alone with him." 

Sirius gasps his indignation. The three of them all smile in tandem, James in a rush to add to the joke. 

"You should be, fucker, I don't care how sick you are. You're sick in the mind if you think it's acceptable to-" 

"You're sick for acting like I'm some misbehaved child you've been pandering to. You're bullies, and as soon as we're in the airport I'm ditching you both in favour of a Great British Burger King." 

"One," James says, still smiling widely, "I have your per diem, so unless you brought your wallet, you're sunk." Sirius frowns. "Two, I'd love it if you would repeat that little moniker you gave me a minute before he woke up. Seriously. Shed some light on the real bully." 

Sirius pulls his sunglasses from his jacket pocket and places them over the bridge of his nose delicately. "Unnecessary." 

"I wouldn't mind Burger King," Remus says. 

"We have to be quick," James says. 

Sirius is so incensed he actually spits a bit as he scathes, "You fuckers. I want food and it's lorded over my head, but Moons wants something and your only limitation is how fast he can eat it?" 

He's not truly as angry as he appears. He's joking, and he's fallen into a familiarity that can only come with years of ragging on one another relentlessly. Still  Remus pats his tight shoulder and smiles.

"I'm a slow chewer." 

"He's a slow chewer, Sirius. Have some compassion." 

“How fast could he chew missing a few teeth, I wonder?” Sirius asks.

James gasps, delighted at his friend's casual threat. Remus does a better job at hiding his amusement, tamping back a smile as he reaches over the armrest between their seats and slapping a hand into Sirius’ seatbelt. The mechanism unlatches, the ‘Fasten Your Seatbelts’ sign flashes, and a shaming beeping sound rings overhead. 

Sirius squeaks. 

—

What do you wear to meet a British ambassador? A Genovian ambassador? Any sort of diplomat? You aren't too sure what an ambassador even is, only that every word Lily Evans has said to you sounds shockingly official. 

"Your citizenship has been reinstated whether you choose to move forward or not. We want to stress that you have choices," Lily says. Call me Lily, please. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to." 

"We also want to stress," says Emmeline, the Genovian ambassador, "that your presence in Genovia is greatly desired. For the funeral." 

"The funeral," you say softly. 

"It will be a… very, very big event. We don't have to talk about all of the logistics now. Or ever, if you're not interested." 

Emmeline clears her throat. "The family would appreciate it." 

The family. The royal family. The Queen of Genovia, your grandmother, and her… unfortunate younger sister, who's behaviour (according to the Internet) has been less than ideal. Her sisters son, who might take the throne if you refuse it. Or, so you've come to understand. 

All this lineage and politics has been hard to navigate by yourself, though rest assured, you've been assigned two personal assistants of a sort. One for appearances of the physical, and one for appearances of the mind. 

A stylist and a tutor. 

"And a bodyguard," Lily says, "your safety is the most important thing." 

You grip the end of your dress in your hands and squeeze the skirts tightly. Safety? You'd rather not embarrass yourself by asking. 

"We actually want you to meet them now," Emmeline says. 

"Whenever they show up," Lily adds. She sounds embarrassed but unsurprised, like this has happened before. 

There's a small silence. You pull your bag into your lap and squeeze it, hoping it hides the curve of your stomach. You aren't sure what you're supposed to wear to occasions like this, and so you'd worn the nicest thing you owned, a pretty, simplistic dress ruched under the chest, and a cardigan overtop. 

You catch yourself frowning and quirk your lips up into a practised smile. Gentle, amicable, the kind you'd offer a passing stranger. 

"Well," Lily says, filling the awkwardness, "I'm sure they'll come around soon. Maybe we should talk about inheritance." 

"Legally, you're entitled to an inheritance. You could think of it like a pension, an allowance you'd be given from the age of eighteen. You've already passed that, and so you'll be given the years upto, and then the rest in annual increments," Emmeline says. "There's a team of people who can and will explain it better at a later date, or whenever you want to discuss it, once you've agreed to a paternity test." 

"A paternity test?" you ask. 

You feel rather useless. All you've done is ask for explanations since you sat down, your head a spinning mill. Information goes around and around with no time to sink in. 

Emmeline opens her mouth to continue and is interrupted by three sharp knocks. 

"Come in," Lily calls. She turns her gaze to you, orange hair moving over her shoulder in a silken sheet, and raises her eyebrows. 

You don't know what it means. 

First to enter the room is a modestly dressed man with straight, sandy hair. It's long enough to peek out from under his ears, where it curls. He steps into the light, illuminating a shock of shiny scars clawed over the bridge of his nose and teasing up into one thick eyebrow. 

"Sorry," he says, not quietly but certainly not loudly. "We had trouble finding the room." 

Behind him immediately stands a man with dark hair to his shoulders, white but tanned. He wears slacks, in which a shirt has been tucked on one side and not the other, a purposeful dishevelment. 

"And the building," adds the second. 

Last to enter is the biggest of the three. You'd hazard a guess that he's six foot or taller, not the tallest of his companions but the most imposing, with a monotone outfit of pristine blacks that he fills too well, his shirt clinging to the muscle underneath it. His skin is a warm brown that soaks up the big light overhead and shines golden, his hair black and thick, laying in mussed ringlets stroked back from his face. 

He is the most handsome person you've ever seen in real life. It startles you. Worse, when he meets your eyes. 

You smile carefully. He smiles back. 

Lily stands to gesture toward each man in turn. The first, "Remus Lupin," she says, "your tutor on all things Genovia." The second, "Sirius Black, stylist and your guide on media presence." 

The third. 

"James Potter," Lily says, not looking at him. "Bodyguard. James will be with you for the foreseeable future, even if you decide on– Well. You should get to know one another, at any rate." You must wear your worries on your face, as she continues, "You're in safe hands. James was third in command in the protection of His Highness." 

"Hello," you say. 

Sirius' eyes widen in tandem with his smile. "Hello." 

"It's nice to meet you. We're sorry for your loss," Remus says.

"No," you say, head tilted toward your shoulder as you frown at James sympathetically, "I should be sorry, you actually knew him. I can't imagine how this feels for you." 

"Thank you. But don't be," James says. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Princess."

You look to Emmeline, almost like you're waiting for her to correct him. 

She smiles at you hopefully. "Shall we talk arrangements for your departure?" 

—

James is trying not to look at you too much, though if he is he can write it off as purely protective. You're sitting in your seat like you're worried about touching a seat mate who doesn't exist, arms wrapped around your middle and face pointed to the floor. 

"I'll rent a car," he says. 

You curl into yourself a little more. "What for?" 

"It's much safer." 

"I don't want you to– I mean, you aren't a chauffer." 

"I'm not." He bends at the knees to speak directly to you. "There are seven other people on this bus. One is elderly. Three are younger than sixteen. All seven could potentially harm you." 

You look to the left without turning your head, toward the sound of young laughter. He'd bet money on your thoughts. Even the children?

"The driver could have an aneurysm. He could be paid off. He could be carrying a concealed weapon." James smiles at you placatingly. "Understand? If I drive, the potential danger goes down to one." 

"Me?" 

"No. Me." He tries very hard not to wink and look like a dickhead. "But I'm not going to hurt you. Not really my perogative." 

"Oh, good." 

James recall what Lily had said, rightfully. You and James will be in each other's company for the foreseeable future, and while he has a job to do, there's room for friendliness. Sort of. 

He splits his attention between you and the front of the bus, where a small family carts a pushchair. 

"What do you do?" he asks. 

He knows you attend classes for a degree equivalent at your local college. He knows you're a waitress. He knows you moved to central London when you were very young, and that your estranged mother had been the cause of all this confusion. He asks you because he wants to know how you'll frame it. In your own eyes, what is your life?

"I'm a waitress." 

He nods. "Local?" 

"Mm. At a pub called The Morgan." 

"You have a shift today?" 

"Not today. I took the day off." You stand up and click the STOP call button on the rail James is holding. Your arm brushes against his. "It's this stop." 

James trails behind you, off of the bus and straight into a busy street. 

"How far is it to your house?" he asks, loud to be heard over the hubbub and the roadworks. 

"Not long. Are you okay to walk?"

James finds himself oddly charmed by your question. "I'm just fine." 

You squeeze through the crowded pavements lining the street, folded in, keeping your arms close, and you apologise every time you touch someone, even if it's the other person's fault. James keeps close to your back, moving to your side when he worries you might sprain your neck trying to check that you're following. He had some height on you, which is a good thing for security purposes — he can see uninterrupted over the top of your head when he stands this close. 

The day is cool, the last dregs of an end of summer heat lingering in the air and encouraged by so many bodies in one place. James wonders if you're too warm, dressed as you are in tights, but the thought fades when you trip. 

James grabs the top of your arm, fingers sliding between your arm and your chest. Closer than he wants to be, crueller than he means to be as he keeps you steady. 

To his surprise, you laugh. A really nice sound, sudden but sweet. 

"Sorry, Princess," he says. 

"You saved me," you say, a hint of breathlessness in your tone. "Thank you. My flat's in the next building over." 

"Brilliant." His bag is fucking heavy, a weight between his shoulders that aches when he lifts his hand to shield his eyes from the sun as it sets. You've got a long, long night ahead of doing nothing. "What's your address?" 

You tell it to him. "Why?" 

"For the rest of your security detail." 

He slows as you come to the main door of your building. It's quieter here, the loudest sounds a symphony of barking dogs, car engines revving, and the jangle of your keys as you unlock the door and bump it with your hip. 

"More people?" you ask. "Is that really necessary?" 

"You always do that?" 

"It gets stuck," you explain. 

He hums. "It's necessary. The media's been paid handsomely to keep our operation to themselves for now, but there's always pressure to be the first to break a story." 

"And I'm the story?" you ask, nodding toward the stairs in the centre of the room. 

He steps over a bundle of scattered letters. The building is mostly clean, but mail bulges from cubbies, and an old mattress has been left propped against a wall. 

"You're the story," he says, head up to analyse the atrium. There's a skylight spotted with green moss above. 

You take the stairs up to the first floor, where your flat is the first he comes across. That increases your risk of a break in, rapists or robbers. He asks you to wait at the door while he clears each room, knowing it's an unecessary precaution but taking it anyway. It's not worth saving the half a minute it costs on the off-chance you've been infiltrated. 

He snorts at his own train of thought and returns to you, where you're sliding a special locking mechanism between the door latch and the frame. You shake the lock. 

"Did you get that recently?" 

You look up at him and smile. "Since I moved in. I'm first on the floor. Don't want to get murdered in my sleep." 

"Good girl," he says absentmindedly, crossing the room to secure your window. 

He moves into your room again and secures the larger window over your bed. Then, because he's awful and curious, he catalogues your things. 

"You're an artist," he says, head listed toward the doorway. 

You stop by the dresser, hastily stuffing clothes left aside back into the top drawer. "Not– not really." 

The room is a crammed collection of things. It's clear you've attempted to keep it clean. You were doomed to fail, an outpouring of your heart stuffed into a matchbox; books, sketchbooks, notebooks are stacked against the leftmost wall between your bed and your dresser, while paints and pencils take up two thirds of your desk. A small sketchbook rests closed in the mess of your unmade bed, dark bed sheets disrupted by a pair of white pyjamas discarded at the end. Soot or something similar stains the fabric. 

He averts his gaze from your dirty hamper and faces you. 

"At 8PM, one of my team will swap duty with me. His name is Frank, and I've worked with him before, but if you aren't comfortable with anything he does while I'm not working, you can tell me. If I do something that makes you uncomfortable, you can tell Lily. You can tell me, of course," he amends. "I can take the couch." 

"You sleep at eight?" 

"I sleep at nine." 

"You don't mind sleeping on the couch?"

"Not at all." 

You walk to your dresser and pull open the bottom drawer. Inside is a layer of linens, and you pull them out neatly. 

"You don't have to, uh, put on a show for me," you say with a wince. 

"Sorry?" 

"I'm not a princess. I'm not the princess." 

"You don't think so?" 

You look sweet, kneeling on the floor, hair in pretty disarray from the walk home. You move it out of your face and offer a folded square to him with both hands. 

"It's a misunderstanding. But…" You take a pillowcase into your hand and stand up, closing the drawer with your ankle. "Even if I were, I don't think you need to be so formal, you know?" 

You move past him, a wave of nice smells.

"It's my job." 

Again, you surprise him by laughing, climbing on top of your unmade sheets to grab one of your pillows. "Right," you say, stripping it of its pillowcase and shaking it into a new one. The tip of your tongue makes a brief appearance as you plump up the corners. 

You climb off of the bed. "Here," you say, taking the sheet he's holding to press the pillow into his hands. 

"Oh," he says, looking down at the pillowcase. It's covered in small pink flowers. "I don't need this." 

"My settee isn't comfortable." 

"Half of my job is being able to sleep anywhere." 

You smile at him. His words don't discourage you, and he stands in the doorway between your bedroom and your living room as you lay down an old quilt over the settee and tuck a sheet around it and under the sofa cushions. 

"I know it's strange, but you could take my bed, if you wanted to. You're so tall, I don't think-"

James cuts you off, not unkindly. "Thank you, but I couldn't." He lets the side of his chest rest against the doorway, arms crossed. Your back is straight, tense with anxiety. "I have something for you." 

You blink at him. "For me?" 

He grins, his first proper smile all day, and pulls his bag onto the freshly made settee to unzip the front compartment. He pulls out a small jewellery box, pulling the lid off to hold between his arm and chest. 

The tennis bracelet inside is thin but strong, made up of gold-silver links with sapphire-coloured gemstone. He assumes them to be real sapphire or something similar, like blue-hued ruby. 

"This is a panic button." 

You seem more anxious than when he'd pulled out the box. 

"Don't worry about losing it. I'm sure the Genovian coffers will recover." 

"It's not that. Do you think it will fit?" you ask. 

He hadn't thought about it. Luckily, Mary had. 

"There are spare links hidden under the velvet." 

James puts the box on your coffee table and clicks the links into place, handling the bracelet with less care than he ought to. Firmly snapped into place, he offers the lengthened bracelet to you unlatched. 

"Here," he says, pointing toward one link in particular. "If you squeeze this tightly, the heat sensor will alert me."

"It won't feel the heat of my wrist?" 

"It will. It's sophisticated, it'll disregard anything that isn't a sudden spike. That's your panic button. You squeeze that–" He pinches it in demonstration. The small radio clipped discreetly to his shoulder starts to beep, a circling alarm. He removes his fingers from the bracelet and it stops. "Okay?" 

"I haven't even passed the paternity test yet." 

"My being here indicates that you're of special interest. We don't know if you're the Princess for certain, and neither do the newspapers. You're still in danger either way." 

You press your lips together and hold out your wrist. 

James steps close to you, enough to see details and lines he's missed. The longer he stays in your company, the more endeared he is to your shy smile, and your kindness, and he thinks you're the type of person who's outsides reflect the insides. You smile. 

Either side of your wrist glows with heat as he drapes the bracelet over your skin and clicks it closed, wary of pinching you. 

The room is quiet. The clock over your small kitchen table ticks. 

"There," James murmurs, taking back his hands. 

"Thank you." 

He disregards it completely. "No worries." 

His informality gets you, and you smile, your own first and proper smile since you'd been introduced. 

By the time Frank arrives for turnover, James is confident that his assignment to your protection won't be nearly as awful as he'd thought. You'd insisted on making him something to eat, which he'd been sincerely grateful for, as a man can't run on Burger King alone, and then you'd practically showered him in an awkward but entirely genuine hospitality, offering your bathroom and all its contents, every blanket you owned, the TV remote, and a tin of biscuits. 

He introduces you to Frank, and for an hour you make yourself busy in the kitchen, cleaning dishes you'd refused his help with and wiping down the counters. 

He senses your unease at being outnumbered in your own home. Unfortunately, there isn't much he can do to make you feel better, besides appoint Frank to door duty and try to offer some words of comfort. 

James tries not to look as imposing as he feels, clearing his throat to draw your attention as you leave the kitchenette.

"Listen," he says softly, a mirror of you now that you're both changed into lounge clothes and damp-haired from the shower, "I want to reassure you— I'm here to protect you from any and every threat. I know this is unconventional, but I promise to do my best to make this easy for you." 

You look down at your trainer socks. "Sorry." 

"Can you do me a favour?" 

"Yeah, of course," you say, raising your chin. 

"No more apologies. This is hard, and I know that, you don't have to say sorry for anything. I'll promise you whatever you need me to if that will make you feel more comfortable."

Princess or no princess, you're confused, and you're unhappy in your own home. James wouldn't want that for anybody. 

"Do you think someone's going to kill me?" you ask. 

James softens. "No. Nobody is going to kill you." His smile melds slowly to mischief, dark lashes kissing in the corners of his eyes as he squints. "I'm a brilliant bodyguard, okay? Don't doubt my skills. And Frank's alright." 

You laugh under your breath, relieved. "I'm not doubting your skills." 

"Good. I'm not just a pretty face, Princess." 

You sober at the title. The flicker of camaraderie between you fizzles, and you shake it off. 

"Can I get you anything?" you ask. 

He hopes that in a month, or a year, when you're living the high life in Genovia with a hundred serfs and lavish goods beyond your wildest dreams, you'll keep your earnest smile, and your good heart. He's seen exactly what court politics can do to timid young women like you.

"No," he says, matching your volume, "nothing."

"Okay. You can wake me if you need anything." 

He absolutely won't. "Thank you... Goodnight." 

"Goodnight."

You disappear behind your bedroom door. James lays down over the small sofa, alarm set for a dry-eyed 4:30AM, and listens to your flat as it cools. You close the blinds, sharpen a pencil, and for a period of time, he's lulled by the mild shushing of a pencil over paper. 

He falls asleep. He must. A silence settles, thick and uninterrupted as poured molasses. 

A splintering crash pulls him back to consciousness, and every nerve-ending sings as a weight falls to the floor. A thump sounds from behind your closed door. James practically leaps over the settee's arm to your door, Frank hot on his heels. 

He throws open the door, braced for impact.

You aren't anywhere to be seen. 

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

thanks for reading!! i hope you enjoyed this first part, and if you did and you have the time please consider reblogging, it makes a difference! plus i'd love to know what u think or what you'd love to see in future<3

the fics title is adapted from a line in piedra del sol by octavio paz

#james potter fic #james potter #marauders era #marauders #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #the marauders #the marauders fanfiction #the marauders x reader #the marauders fanfic #james potter x fem!reader

[ushiwhacka]

IT'S A KINDNESS, HIGHNESS | gojo satoru + fem! reader | 4,500 words | mdni | royalty au, gojo is the most obnoxious, annoying, charming prince ever <3

⇥ summary: your betrothed is unlike anything you ever imagined. he's improper and brash and delights in embarrassing you - but he wants you. and he always gets whatever he wants. ⇥ warnings: corruption, oral (f! receiving), spit, pussy job, food play (just a tiny little bit), reader is a virgin, satoru is so impatient

for my most beloved char <3 thank you for being so patient and for this super cute request (and also for reading but shh)

You were bred to marry royalty. It’s what you’ve been told since you were old enough to know the meaning of it. You were raised to marry royalty. To sit with your legs flawlessly tilted. To sing like a delicate bird. To speak low and curtsey even lower still. A perfect daughter destined to become a perfect wife. 

A resounding click as you close the locket once more. The intricate flowers are warm under your skin, worn out with how many times you’ve run your fingers over them. Clutching it to your chest, giddy with thoughts about the man who looks back at you through the heart-shaped frame. The many nights it has spent tucked under your pillow as you dream of chaste hand kisses and dancing with your betrothed as everyone else looks on. 

“Do you think he’s as handsome as his portrait?” You peer down at the now opened heart again, sighing wistfully as you think of looking into those shining eyes. 

“Keep your head straight.” A sharp reprimand before you feel another pin scrape at your scalp. And you do your best to swallow an audible wince. “It does not matter if he’s handsome, he’s a prince. And one day, he will be king and you will be queen.”

“But, mother —”

“And you will provide him with as many heirs as he wishes.” Her thumbs press into your bare shoulder blades as she regards you in the mirror. A familiar expression on her face, her mouth taut in a thin line, she levels you with steely eyes. “This will do.” You swallow your questions. “Now go.”

There is a whirlwind of kitchen maids and footmen carrying silver trays overflowing with food, dusting the railing, adding wood to the already roaring fireplace. It all comes to a sobering still at the sound of galloping horses and wheels rolling over gravel and the clamour turns into concealed whispers and feet scurrying away. 

Two years since your betrothal. Two years of waiting and wondering. Two years worth of daydreams and fantasies of saccharine words and stolen glances and promises made tucked away behind secret corners. The air lodges in your lungs.  

The silence in the room is so heavy that you can hear your heart thumping in your chest, faster and louder as the steps in front of the door grow nearer. A click. Then the thumping stops. 

He is just as beautiful as his portrait. And yet, he looks nothing like it. There’s something so brazen about him, how strands of messy, white hair fall over his eyes. How his shirt is too loose and untied, the deep opening showing the pale skin of his chest. 

You follow the contour of it. Wide eyes taking in the dip of his throat, the swell of muscle just underneath. It feels forbidden, something you shouldn’t be allowed to see. And still you cannot peel your eyes away. Watching as he draws closer with every long step. Your feet feel like lead sinking into the hardwood floors. 

Curtsey. You’re supposed to curtsey, low and steady. You’re supposed to bow your head before the prince. 

“Ah, my future wife.” It’s too late. “You look ravishing.” 

Before you know it, your hand is in his hand and you can barely breathe. Your chest straining against the fabric of your dress. He looks at you in a way no one has before, like a predator who’s about to devour his prey. Then he brings your hand to his mouth, his lips warm against your skin. 

And he looks at you. Impudent eyes burnt into yours for too long. It’s lewd. It makes your stomach flutter and your cheeks heat in embarrassment. 

Your head is reeling, hand clutched into fists as you follow the group into the dining hall. You had only read of such behaviour in forbidden books hidden in the depths of your family library. It was inappropriate, a stolen moment of intimacy. Still, you can feel the shape of his lips on the back of your hand, stinging like a brand. Thumb pressing into it as you sit on the table with your hands in your lap and head hanging low. 

He sits with his chin propped on his fist, looking around with lidded eyes, the very picture of boredom painted on his fair face. Every word out of his mouth comes drawn out and lazy. But you can still feel his gaze following you, the bob of your throat as you swallow, the tiny drop of red wine sauce on your lips, the nervous fidgeting of your fingers. 

The rest of the world feels like noise, blurs, falls away under the weight of his curious eyes until it’s just you and him. And there’s nothing else to feel but how he drinks you in, how he lingers in all the forbidden crooks of your body. Like you’re already his and his alone.

You’re almost afraid to look at him. The way he stretches in the chair, legs spread wide and slouching over the armrests. Every attempt of your father’s to make polite conversation is thwarted with a disinterest that is almost insulting. Current affairs, politics, and tomorrow’s hunt pale in comparison to the way your hands trembles around the fork. How it clatters against your plate when you feel his hand brush the side of your thigh under the table. 

“Are you feeling unwell, My Lady?” The conversation halts when the prince speaks, heads turn to focus their attention on you. 

“I — I am quite alright.” You feel as though you might choke on the very air you breathe. “You are kind to ask, Your Highness.”

It must have been an accident. You try to reason with yourself that it was an accident. But you suspect it wasn’t. Not when his companion turns to glare at him. Not when his mouth quirks up ever so slightly in satisfaction.

Not when he looks at you as a child looks at a new toy. His new toy. There for his amusement.

Feet patter softly against the floor as you pace around your chambers, watching the sky turn black then lighten again. The pillows feel too warm and your bedding is scratching against the skin of your legs. And every time you close your eyes, you see him, you feel the warmth of his hand on yours, his plush lips on your knuckles. 

You press your mouth to the patch of your skin he kissed, you wonder what it would feel like if he kissed you. Would he be loving and tender? Or would he simply take and take some more, leaving you breathless and trembling? 

It is your duty to give, give him whatever he asks for. That’s the purpose of a wife. You had heard the same lecture nearly daily for over two decades of your life. But there was never an explanation. What must you give? Which part of you would he want for himself?

There’s a fluttering feeling in your belly. Like a sense of frustration that builds and grows with each new thought. Spreads lower still and your whole body comes alight. Like you might not mind giving as many parts of yourself to him as he may want, even if it’s all of you. It makes your chest heave and sweat bead at your hairline. Persists until you succumb to the mercy of exhaustion.

You spend the next morning avoiding anyone with a pulse — the gossiping servants, your mother, and especially him. Walking softly and peeking around corners until you find refuge in the library. The tips of your fingers grazing across dusty books as you read the titles. None of them particularly exciting. And either way, none of them have answers to the questions swirling through your mind. So you resign yourself to your thoughts, fingers dancing over the spines of dusty tomes.

“There.” Before you even know you are no longer alone, your body is pressed forward into the shelves, a chest flush against your back. “Just what I was I was searching for.” 

The sound of his melodic voice makes the blood simmer in your veins. He’s toying with you. You know he has no interest in any book your library could offer. And you’re angry. Angry because you know none of it is an accident. Angry because he is not the man you had imagined. 

And all that rage turns to ice in your veins when you turn around to face him, neck craned upwards only to be met with his bare chest peeking out of the crisp white shirt and a wolfish grin. 

“Your Highness, you —”

“Did you like my portrait?” His fingers inch towards you, rest on your collar bone as he examines the little silver heart that hangs around your neck. “I sat for it just for you.”

“It is in your likeness.” 

“You wound me.” His face is much too close to yours, so close that his breath fans over your skin when he breathes out a laugh. You’ve never felt smaller. “Do you think I’m handsome?”

“Your Highness —”

“Satoru.” He interrupts you again. His lips brushing against your ear. “If you are to be my wife I want to hear you say my name.” Your skin prickles up as he whispers, raw where his words fall over your neck. 

There’s an eerie quiet wrapping you together. Like anything beyond those towering shelves falls away. And all that’s left is the sound of his calm breaths and your heart pummelling against your ribs.

“Satoru.” It feels foreign in your mouth, fills it up. Sits heavy on your tongue.

“Good girl.” 

Then he leaves you. He walks out of the grand room with a spring in his step and a wave. And you’re gasping for air, one hand splayed over your chest where he had touched you, the other digging into the wooden shelves as a means to keep you upright. 

You feel watched, his shining eyes follow your every step. He finds you in the library again even when you’ve tucked yourself away in the most private of nooks. He finds you in the kitchens late at night, sneaking a few bites of cake and milk before bed. He finds you in the garden too as you sit on a bench overlooking the pond, tucked in the thick shade of a weeping willow. 

You’ve grown used to his presence in a way. Used to the quickening of your heart at the mere sight of him, at the sound of his voice. Used to the way your tummy coils when he touches you with near unbearable familiarity. 

Satoru sits next to you and puts the tray of lemon cakes on his lap. He’s too close again, his knee touching yours. And you allow it. Again. 

He shuffles in his seat, taps his fingers on the bench, then sighs deeply — making his presence known, waiting for you to acknowledge it. 

You don’t. 

The silence only lasts for one brief moment. “Have a taste.” He brings the sweet to your mouth and nudges your hand away when you try to take it. “No, no. Open wide for me.”

That feeling that sits low in your belly comes back, twists your insides. But you do as you’re told and part your lips. You’ve learned by now that he enjoys watching your face twist with embarrassment. Just loves that you will disregard every lesson in proper behaviour you’ve been taught for him. 

The pad of his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, lingers there too long. The cake crumbles on your tongue, tangy and sweet. And his mouth hangs slightly open as he watches the way the cream sticks to your teeth, his lithe fingers resting on your chin. It’s suffocating, like the air has thickened in the space between you. Like you cannot breathe until he tells you to. 

“Why are you squirming?” 

The question catches you off guard. “I’m not.”

“Do you like it when I touch you? Does it make you feel strange between your legs?” He leans into you as he speaks. “Is your cunt all wet?”

Your eyes widen in shock. He’s not supposed to say that word. So filthy and unbecoming.  And it makes you feel all… wrong. Too aware of how your body preens for him.

“That is not an appropriate way to speak to a lady.” It takes every drop of strength you possess to not trample over your words. To ignore how he looks at you, barely surpassing his amusement. To stand on your feet and stomp away from him. 

But still, when you slam the heavy doors to your chambers closed, all you can hear is his voice, deep and sanguine. And all you can think about is how it feels to be so close to him, to breathe in his scent and feel the warmth of his skin on yours. How you sink into every touch and every brush of his knuckles. How you feel dazed and light-headed when he speaks words he shouldn’t. 

How you wish to know more.

He finds you again that same night. Walks into your bedchambers wearing a shirt pulled further apart than usual. Feigns innocence as you regard him with stern eyes and your mouth pressed into a disapproving line.

“You really cannot be here.” You fold into yourself, suddenly aware of how he can see you, see all parts of you through the nightgown that’s turned translucent in the candlelight.

“I must have lost my way.” His voice hushed, but you can still hear the insincerity in it. “It’s a big house.”

“I’m certain you’re used to bigger.” You pull your arms closer to your chest. “Now go.”

He doesn’t. You can feel how his eyes rake over you, take in every detail as you stand almost bare before him — how your hair looks when it’s not neatly arranged and adorned with pearls, how your fingers dip into your shoulders, how the tops of your breasts peek from behind your forearms with every heavy breath.

“You’re beautiful.” He takes a step toward you, long fingers brushing over your hair. “I don’t want to leave.”

“Satoru, please.”

“Tell me you want me to leave.”

You swallow thickly, throat tight around your words, swallowing them. Your eyes dart away from him as embarrassment climbs up your legs, warms your cheeks. 

He reaches out, holds your chin between his thumb and index finger. Tilts your head so that you have to look at his face, so that he can see up close the quiver of your lips as you succumb to him. “I’m waiting.” Because you will succumb to him.

The air between you feels suffocating, sticks to you. You turn your head, desperate to breathe, to escape what feels inevitable. But you’re met with the palm of his hand, searing in its tenderness as it pulls you closer to him. 

His lips hover above your own, impatient but still waiting for your resolve to fracture and crumble in his grip. The flicker of your eyes brimming with anticipation is enough of an answer. A shared breath and the distance between you dissipates as he kisses you. 

You’re standing on the tips of your toes, your body extending to dissolve into his. Like it knows its place. He’s gentle, his lips plush and soft and oh so warm as they press on yours. And you feel like you might lose yourself to this feeling, to his touch, consumed by his hunger. And when he pulls away you chase after him.

But he stops you with a hand around your jaw. “Don’t be greedy, now.” His thumb swipes across your lips. “You’re such a good girl, yes?” A dazed nod and his finger pushes inside your mouth, runs over your teeth and pushes onto your tongue. He stakes his claim on you. You’re his. Every last part of you. All of you. His to touch as he pleases. To have as he pleases. His and his alone. “And did they teach you what husbands and wives do together?”

You shake your head.

He swipes over the plump of your lips again, coating them in warm spit as you struggle to keep upright, light-headed, feet tingling with trepidation and something unfamiliar. “Would you like me to show you?”

“Y-yes.” It comes out shaky and breathless, like it should have remained in your throat, died there. Like you should have said no. But there’s that feeling in your belly again, starved and growing, and it wants him. And everything that may entail.

He kisses you again. This time it’s different, firmer, he forces you to open yourself up to him, his tongue licking inside your mouth. Holds you in place with a hand wrapped around the back of your neck. Devours you. Your every sense is alight with the feeling of him, forbidden and yet there in between your eager fingers. 

There’s drool dripping down the sides of your chin, so unbecoming, so embarrassing. Yet it doesn’t compare to the sting that spreads to your cheeks when his tongue darts out to lap it up, lick you clean. Then he kisses you once more, even deeper than before and no drop of himself he has so graciously given you goes to waste. 

You can’t escape the scrutiny of his crystal eyes, shining with pride at the result of his efforts as they take in the sight of you. From your swollen lips, down your neck, to your chest heaving with every laboured breath, and your arms folded together in a feeble attempt to protect your modesty. 

“Let me see you.” His voice trembles just for a moment. As if he, too, is being held together by delicate seams, bursting with want, with the need to have you. 

His fingers snake around your wrists and your breath hitches. But you still let him peel your arms off your body, let his knuckles ghost over the thin material, let him undo the bow that holds your nightgown together. 

You can hear how hard he swallows, see how his throat bobs with the effort, how his mouth goes slack at the sight of your perky nipples peeking out from underneath the white cotton. “Are you nervous?” 

“A little.” 

Knuckles ghost over your clavicle as he hooks a finger around each strap of your nightgown. He looks into your eyes as he pulls them over your shoulder. “Don’t be.” And the dress falls around your feet in a rustle.

The look on his face is unlike anything you have ever seen before. Something primal and fierce. Like a starved animal, a wolf about to devour the lamb caught in his paws. He will take everything, carve it out of your core and grind it between his molars. And you will let him. And you will ask for more.

Feverish lips leave a trail down the column of your throat, teeth grazing your pulse point. Not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to send a shiver down your spine. You hold onto him, nails digging into the base of his neck as he moves further down, watching in awe as he licks a stripe in between your breasts. He’s watching you too, eager to see how your eyes squeeze shut in pleasure, how you try to bite back the moans that tumble out anyways.

His hands move to cup your tits and he takes his time watching how the fat spills from in between his fingers. Touches your nipples so lightly it tickles, then latches his mouth onto one. It’s obscene, the prince on his knees, your skin glistening with a thin layer of his spit. And oh the noises he makes, whining as he sucks on the hardened buds, the pop as he releases one, only to move to the other side and do it all over again. 

The blissful smile on his face as he looks at you coming undone in his arms. 

But it’s not enough. Not nearly enough to fill the emptiness that’s spreading inside out you. “Please, Satoru —” Your voice weak and desperate, begging for something, anything that will make you feel whole again. 

“What’s wrong, My Lady?” He stands to his feet, curving into you. “What do you want?”

“Satoru…” You say his name like a prayer, like it’s your only salvation.

“Do you want me to touch you —” His fingers dip between the fat of your thighs “— here?”

And you gasp oh so sweetly as his middle finger presses into your folds. Your legs buckle, nails digging deeper into his skin. You want more. And you squeeze around his hand like your body knows what you need when even you don’t. But it’s too late. He’s already holding his finger in between you, dripping with your slick. Then he pops it in his mouth, looks into your eyes as he swirls his tongue around it. 

“Mmm, sweet.” It’s like he delights in embarrassing you even now. “I want more.”

He carries you to the bed, sets you down gently before pulling the shirt off his back. He can see you and, at last, you can see him too. The peaks of his chest, drops of sweat running down between the ripples of his abdomen. So broad. Not even marble statues, perfectly carved works of art, can compare to him. 

His hands are smoothing over your legs, firm, like he’s trying to commit every dip and curve of them to memory. His kisses start chaste, airy over the bone of your ankles, tickle the back of your knee. Slowly, they turn hungry, demanding as he buries his head between your thighs. He sucks on your soft flesh there, his mouth hot and needy. Then his tongue laves over the teeth marks imprinted into your skin, soothing the sting of it. 

He stops for a moment. Desperate eyes taking in the sight of your pussy, wet and sticky with arousal. He runs his fingers over the sensitive skin, listens to you sharply inhale at the contact. 

“You’re mine.” The world stops. “Say it.”

You can only manage a strangled whisper. “I’m yours.”

Then you feel it, the warmth of his breath as his mouth hangs just above your core, how wet and thick and hot his tongue is when it licks between your folds. How it curls around that spot that makes you whimper and call out his name. And he wraps his lips around it, sucks on it and you cannot stop the cry that erupts out of your mouth. 

Your belly tightens. And you have to hide your face behind trembling hands, hide your panting and the way your cheeks could burst with shame. But you cannot stop how your body leans into him, how your legs wrap tightly around his head, pulling him closer still. 

“You’re doing so well.” His voice vibrates against your centre and you moan, high-pitched and strained. “Just let go for me.” 

You can feel the sheets grow wetter beneath you, him cursing under his breath about how perfect you are, his tongue all over you, lapping up your slick and dipping into all the perfect places. And that feeling snaps, spreads until your legs are shaking and you can do nothing but wail and scratch your nails across his scalp. 

Lips move across your tummy, sloppy wet kisses mix withe the damp of your skin. He kisses you again, cradles your neck, holds you in place. It’s forceful and his mouth is so hot on yours, dripping, covers you in a taste that’s salty and sweet and intoxicating. 

His hair is tussled, face shiny with you. And he looks at you with some kind of twisted pride in his eyes. “Have I won My Lady’s favour?”

A weak nod.

“Then —” He starts as nimble hands undo the ties on his breeches, “— I should show you what you have done to me.”

It’s a sight unlike any other. His cock, with soft white tufts of hair at the base, thin veins curving around his length and a blush pink tip leaking something clear and thick. And when he rests it on top of your tummy it feels heavy and it goes all the way up to your belly button. 

“When we’re married I intend to have you like this every day.” His eyes are glued to where your bodies connect. “Perhaps more than once. We need heirs, don’t we?” Excitement tingles in your fingertips.

He runs the fleshy tip over your slit so agonisingly slowly. Follows every little movement with such intensity. And he feels like velvet against you, warm and throbbing over your core. Each buck oh his hips catches that sensitive peak between your folds and you feel your insides coil again. Writhe with want, with need to feel that release again. 

You reach out to touch him, feel how he ruts into you. And he moans at the contact, a little choked out and whiny. You run your hand over his length, encouraged by how his lips part so prettily. And he feels so thick, so firm in your grasp.

“You’re a fast learner.” His mouth stretches, a picture of satisfaction.

But his tip catches against your entrance, and his eyebrows knot uncomfortably and he grinds his teeth. Knuckles white around the crumpled sheets as he tries to ground himself. Resist. Just for now. But never again.

His thrusts become more erratic, reckless as he surrenders to the tenderness of your flesh. And you follow closely along, hips bucking into him, looking for more friction, more of him. Your name falling from his lips, and his from yours. Like a sacred choir chant, or a cry for mercy, or something no words could ever convey. 

He finds his release with his head hung and a low grunt. Spilling all over your belly, white and sticky and hot. He’s spent, hair damp and sticking to his forehead, chest heaving. You like the way he looks at you, bright eyes dimmed and hazy. Softer. And you think you must have taken a part out of him too.

He clings to you, lets you lay your head on his chest, your ear just above his heart. Its steady beat is oddly soothing. And so is the way he gently rubs little circles into your back, grounds you, binds you to him. Unexpected but not unwanted. 

“Do you want to marry me?” He looks so different. Vulnerable and entirely too human, gaze locked onto the carved wood of your ceiling. As if he’s afraid of your answer, the truth in your eyes.

“Hm.”

“Hm?” His chest tightens.

“Only if you promise to sleep in my bed for as long as we both shall live.”

He turns to you with a click of his tongue. “I think they will have to drag me out by my arms and legs.” A wistful sigh. “There might even be casualties.”

thank you for reading! interaction is very much appreciated! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo smut #jjk smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n

[verysium]

how bllk boys would react when u draw them, could either be rlly good or rlly SHIT u choose idk (plz include barou and the itoshi bros) 😊😊😊 i love you and ur works, and the way u write the boys and ur content makes me laugh fr, one of my fave bllk authors mwjahaja 😓 have a great day, ily:3 and the icks post made me smile like all of ur posts do!

thank you so much anon ♡ this ask had me contemplating very seriously, so apologies if it's a bit late:

sae is definitely awestruck in some way, even if he doesn't immediately show it. i think i talked about this in a previous headcanon, but he has a deep-seated admiration for artists who can grasp abstract concepts because he himself cannot. he would be somewhat flattered if you drew him since he's never considered his own appearance to be particularly inspiring. would be appalled if you considered him your muse. like....why? to him, his looks aren't anything of importance (clearly he is blind.) would probably say your drawing was inaccurate but then hang it up by his nightstand so he can look at it every night before he goes to sleep. if you're a full-time artist, he probably keeps a little stash of your gifts in a small box beneath his bed. sometimes if he's having a bad day or he lost a game, he goes back and flips through them just to make himself feel better. secretly loves the way you draw his bangs and the little swoop you do in your signature.

kaiser corrects every single detail in your drawing. stands behind you and gives you little pointers here and there. he should have an 8-pack, not a 6-pack. his jawline isn't sharp enough in your initial sketch. poses shirtless in front of you so that way you can encapsulate the full extent of his sexiness. shows off your drawing to every living creature in existence. "isn't he handsome?" like...🙄 yeah, michael we know. he's probably the hardest to draw because of his tattoo, so i think he genuinely appreciates it when you put in the effort to capture his intricacies. will never admit this but he's low-key proud of you and your talent (mostly just your ability to make him look good.)

rin is one of those people who doesn't understand hyperrealism. like why does he need a highly detailed sketch of his face when he can just take a photo and print it out? i don't think he understands art in general. probably despises modern art too. he'd take one look at a rothko painting and be like....i could draw this too...in my sleep. similar to sae, i feel like he's just numb to the sentimentality of gift-giving. doesn't understand why you would waste your time drawing a little picture of him, but it does make his heart feel strangely fuzzier, so maybe he'll keep it this one time. lo and behold, months later he now has a collection of your drawings he doesn't have the heart to throw away. refuses to let isagi or anyone see them because they're meant for his eyes only.

yukimiya has impeccable taste. in fact, he's probably an artist himself. i think it'd be cute if you both drew little sketches of each other throughout the course of your relationship. but neither of you ever knew until you gifted him your sketchbook for christmas, and he was like....guess what...i drew you too. thinks you're pretty even when you don't think so. sometimes when you're having a coffee shop date, he scribbles a portrait of you on his napkin because the sunlight hit your cheek just right in that moment, and the birds were chirping, and he fell in love all over again. i think it's also tragic that he's slowly losing his eyesight, so he won't be able to enjoy your drawings and the vibrant colors you infuse into them. that's why he treasures them even more. probably thumbs over the pages from time to time. memorizes every stroke and line.

isagi likes the way you always draw that little tuft of hair that sticks up on the top of his head. it looks like a cute little bean sprout. he pins your drawings up above his bed next to a polaroid of you two in germany. buys you a professional art set for your birthday. if you're a digital artist, he buys you a new tablet and stylus.

bachira adds his own doodles next to yours except he makes a chibi version of everything. always pesters you to include his little fangs. uses the boldest combination of colors. he would definitely be a messy artist. paint everywhere. fingernails perpetually stained a different color. you both draw during class, so when you two trade notebooks to actually study......there aren't any actual notes.

barou acts like he doesn't know what to do with your drawing of him but then the next day you visit his house, and he's already put your artwork in a fancy picture frame. refuses to let anyone else even stand within a ten meter radius next to it because he doesn't want their "nasty fingerprints" all over your beautiful masterpiece.

#asks #blue lock #blue lock headcanons #bllk fluff #bllk x you #bllk x reader #bllk x y/n #blue lock x reader #sae itoshi #sae itoshi x you #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi x y/n #kaiser x y/n #michael kaiser #kaiser x reader #rin itoshi #rin itoshi x y/n #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi x you #yukimiya kenyu #yukimiya x reader #isagi x reader #isagi yoichi #isagi x you #bachira meguru #bachira x reader #barou shouei #barou x reader

[sagesskies]

ᴛᴏ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ ᴀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ II

✒ ᴛᴏ ᴀꜱᴋ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ

✒ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴀʀᴅᴇɴᴇʀ'ꜱ ꜱᴏɴ, ᴡʜᴏ ᴋɴᴇᴡ ʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴏʟᴅ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ.

ᴛᴏ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ ᴀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ I

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ: ᴄʟᴀꜱꜱɪꜱᴍ, ᴘʀᴏᴍɪꜱᴄᴜᴏᴜꜱ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴏɴʟʏ), ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴀᴘᴀᴛʜᴇᴛɪᴄ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴅɪꜱᴄɪᴘʟɪɴɪɴɢ ɢʟᴇɴɴ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ʙᴀᴅ ᴅᴏɢ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅʀᴜɢ ᴀᴅᴅɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴀᴅᴜʟᴛᴇʀʏ, ꜱᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ, ᴄʀᴇᴇᴘ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ɢʟᴇɴɴ, ʙʟᴀᴄᴋᴍᴀɪʟɪɴɢ, ɪᴍᴘʟɪᴇᴅ ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀ

You were in the gardens, napping on the bench in a manner unbefitting of a nobleman, when you were alerted by his new attendant, Curtis’ nephew Samuel, that a man by the name of Glenn Alston was waiting for you in the parlor. 

You sighed, and rubbed at your weary eyes, “So, you just let some random man inside the estate without my permission?” 

Samuel flinched, “I… I apologize, my Lord…” He gulped, “He knew the guards, a-and they just let him in…” 

You glared at him. If Curtis were here, he would have made sure Glenn would be waiting not in your parlor, but rather outside by the gates, as was custom for those whose entrance wasn’t authorized. Unfortunately Curtis was on his honeymoon in the south with his new husband. 

You didn’t mind the fact that he was marrying a man, you just wished he sent somebody more capable as his replacement.

You sit up, “Alright.” You stand and stretch, “Tell him I’ll be there in a few minutes.” You may as well do it, now that he’s here. Sure, there’s the whole wanting to marry you shtick, but you can fix that somehow. You don’t really have an idea how but you never needed to plan ahead, ideas just came to you naturally and things always worked out. 

You walked at a leisurely pace to the parlor, deciding to take the scenic route this time. The scenic route being the route where you pass by all the old dusty paintings of your ancestors looking snobby. You still remember doodling on one of them with Glenn, who was absolutely mortified. 

You pass by the doodled-on portrait, a smirk forming on your face when you see the little stick man on the edge of the painting. You give it a small pat, and whisper a sorry to your great great uncle Bartholomew. 

You arrive at the parlor, only ten minutes later. Unsurprisingly, your brother James is also here, alongside your sister Ophelia. It’s silent in the room, as they all stare at you. You’re only looking at Glenn who has grown from an awkward 16 year old to a handsome man in his prime. His messy dark hair is coiffed and styled to perfection, and he wears clothes that aren’t as expensive as yours, but he wouldn’t have been able to afford the last time you had seen him. What hasn’t changed are his hazel eyes, which were as piercing as ever. 

You notice that at his feet, lies a polished leather suitcase. You wonder what could be inside.

“Good day, all.” You drawled, and go to settle in between James and Ophelia, who shuffle aside to make room for you. 

“It’s 3 in the afternoon,” James grumbled, then his voice dropped to a whisper, “I thought you said you wouldn’t let him in.” 

You roll your eyes, and don’t bother to whisper back, “It wasn’t me who let him in, it was the guards.” 

Ophelia groaned, “Ugh, we should really upgrade our security…” She buried her face in her gloved hands, “Why on earth would they let him in anyways.” 

You glance at Glenn, who gives you what you recognize as a lovesick smile. You resist the urge to gag. “Well? How did you manage to get in here Glenn?” 

“I grew up with some of the guards,” Glenn reminded you, “I was just lucky that the ones I knew were on duty.”  

His voice takes on a teasing tone, “You really should get better guards, I only had to ask and they let me in.” 

Samuel entered the room, and set down a tray that held a teapot, four cups, and a jar full of sugar cubes. He avoided the gazes of you and your siblings, as he poured you all tea. He bows deeply, you swear if he bows even deeper his head would touch the floor, and then quickly leaves the room. 

Glenn takes a cup, and sips, “Who is that young man anyway?” He glances at you, when he asks this, “Usually it’s Curtis serving tea.” 

You don’t deign to answer him, taking a sip of your own tea. 

“Curtis is on a honeymoon,” Ophelia opens the jar of sugar and puts a teaspoon of it in her own cup, and steadily mixes it, “We’re left with his nephew, Samuel.” You notice the way her eyes shine the same way it does when she talks about her horse Galadrielle. A small smirk forms on your face. It appears your little sister has a crush on the lousy servant. 

James grunts, “Curtis could’ve at least taught the boy how to make proper tea,” His frown intensifies, “Tastes like dishwater.” 

“How would you know what dishwater tastes like?” You raise a brow, sipping your tea that, while not the best, doesn’t taste like dishwater. 

Glenn clears his throat, “Anyways, I would like to apologize for my intrusion, and whatever shock I may have inflicted with my arrival,” He glances at you from the corner of his eye, no doubt wondering about your reaction. 

You simply raise your brow as he continues to speak.

“I am aware that you do not want me here, but I have come to propose an offer to you,” Glenn pulled out the suitcase, and set it on the table beside the platter. With a click, it opens and he pulls out a thin stack of papers, “I assure you, it is worth your time.” 

James takes the paper, and reads through it. Since he was young, James was always the most expressive of your siblings. So when you saw the whirlwind of emotions that went through his face, you braced yourself for what was to come. 

He passed the papers to you, his uncharacteristic silence worried you. Guess you’ll find out what all the trouble is about.

The first page was innocuous, it had his name, age, gender, date of birth, all the usual stuff. It was the second page that started to get interesting, it included his involvement in multiple famous cases, most of which you heard of in passing but you knew how famous they were even with your shallow pool of knowledge. What caught your eye however, was one near the end of the list of long accomplishments: 

12. Involved in the campaign for the legalization of same-sex marriage in the country of Ethain as well as the first to propose the notion to the high court, and is known to have written the Eros Papers, which aided in persuading the high court to approve of the legalization of same-sex marriage. 

Your eyes widened, but you didn’t allow yourself to react more than that. You continued to flip through, till your eyes landed on a text that stated that if you were to refuse to sign the papers, information would be released of the family's involvement in… less than moral acts. 

Your hands moved quickly as you read faster, how did he know all of this? Your cousin Maddox’s drug addiction, your mother’s affair, your own affair with the Grand duke, your grandparent’s stealing of the rights to Johnathan Shaffer’s patent. The family’s darkest secrets, all in a few papers. 

You glared at Glenn, “How did you know all of this?” You wanted to wipe off that expression on his face, preferably with your fist. 

“Know what?” Ophelia had a confused expression on her face. James’ reaction was concerning enough, but you actually showing at least a modicum of genuine anger was even more so. 

You handed her the papers, and got up from your spot on the sofa. You racked through your mind as you tried to figure out how Glenn discovered these secrets. Even when Glenn lived here, he was still only the gardener’s son, privy to the same amount of secrets as all the other servants. Which was none. Zero, zip, zilch, nada. 

Ophelia gasped, and dropped the papers. Her eyes, the same hue of [e/c] as yours, were widened in shock, “H-how?” She looked at Glenn, who lounged casually on the sofa he sat on, “What do you want from us?” 

Glenn smiled, it was beautiful, just like the rest of him. God, you hated how you were still so weak for him. Even after all this time, even after he left you without anything more than a shoddy note. 

“What I want from you, is the position as the family’s lawyer,” He paused, and then his smile grew as his hazel eyes locked with your [e/c] ones, “And [Name]’s hand in marriage.” 

You stifled the urge to groan. Glenn was always such a weirdo, and that still hasn’t changed, even if it’s been over a decade. You made your way back over to the sofa, and plopped back down, crossing your arms over your chest and glaring at Glenn who simply kept on smiling. 

This felt wrong, you weren’t used to not being the one in control. Despite how lazy you are, you’re always the one in charge in any situation, that’s just how things are when you’re from the [L/N] family. 

But Glenn, for all of his weirdness, was by all accounts a genius. He was always meant for something more than tending to the gardens, you knew that from the moment you met him. And it always made you feel so inferior. The current situation didn’t help negate that feeling.

Your hand in marriage was one thing, but the position of the family lawyer belonged to Glenn’s own uncle. Erik Alston. You didn’t remember him much, but he was always kind to you and to Glenn. 

“Do you really want to take Erik’s job?” You raised a brow at him, “He’s your uncle, if you recall.” 

Glenn shrugs, and then takes another sip from his tea, “That’ll be between me and my uncle,” He then asks you a question, “Do you want all your secrets to be exposed to the court?” 

You purse your lips. The [L/N] family was of a high esteem, despite simply being a ducal family. If the public knew about the crimes of your family, anybody bearing the [L/N] name would be shunned from the court, and you could be subjected to a public execution for your family’s crimes. 

“Why are you bringing this to us?” James asks, he stares at Glenn, “Why not our parents?” 

Glenn chuckles, “Your parents are… how do I put this?” He hums, “Well, they wouldn’t really care. Your mother is too busy banging Baron Hensley, and your father is too focused on tending to his hunting dogs to care about his own children.” 

He takes another sip of his tea, “Besides, they’re getting old,” Glenn sets his cup down, now that it’s empty, “And I don’t want anything from them. All I want, I can get from you, [Name].” 

You bury your face in your hands. A younger, more naive, you would’ve been thrilled to hear this. The boy you were in love with telling you all he wanted, you could give him. You would’ve thought it was so romantic. 

But now all you can think is that you’re so screwed. And not in the way you’d like to be. 

“James, Ophelia,” You lift your face from your hands, “Leave us.” 

Ophelia furrows her brow, “Are you sure, [Name]?” 

James gets up from his spot on the couch, and walks over to Ophelia, and pulls her up, “Let’s just listen to him,” He glares at you, perhaps he blames you for what’s happening right now. You can’t help but agree with that notion. “Maybe he’ll get us out of this.” 

James leads Ophelia out of the room, she sends you back a worried glance, and then the door shuts behind them. 

Now it’s just you and Glenn in this room. It feels like you’ve been caged in with a rabid dog, ready to lunge at you and rip into your jugular. In another world, if you were just a bit more classist, you’d be treating him like one. Perhaps this wouldn’t happen if you just beat him into his place, scolded and disciplined him like the bad boy he was being. 

Glenn gets up from the sofa, and makes his way over to you. He sits down where James was only earlier, and runs a hand down your cheek. Before, his hands were always warm and rough from a day of work. They were still rough, but they were colder now. Suddenly, Glenn’s hand grabs your chin, and you wince at the harsh feeling of his nails digging into your skin. 

“I missed you…” He breathed in your scent, “God, I fucking missed you.” Glenn released your face, and then pulled you in, arms wrapping tightly around you. He gripped you like a child would grip its favorite toy, it felt suffocating, and you hated how he smelled like leather. 

“You know, when I found out about your affair with the grand duke,” Glenn rests his head on the crook of your shoulder, “I was devastated. I was in the capital when I found out, and I wanted to march over to the duke’s palace and beat his smarmy little face in.” His grip tightened on you as he said these words. 

If he wanted you to be guilty about sleeping with the grand duke, he had another thing coming. Sure, Christopher Avery was a dickhead, but he was an attractive dickhead, and he was surprisingly good in bed despite his family being highly religious and always preaching about ‘marriage before sex’ and being vehemently against the legalization of same sex marriage. 

And unlike Glenn, you weren’t willing to wait a decade for him to come back. 

“But… I get it,” Glenn’s voice grew soft, “You were lonely, and you needed somebody to keep you company. I.. I can’t say I haven’t slept with others.” Now that’s surprising, you fully expected him to still be untouched. You always expected him to have saved himself for you, not because that’s what you wanted but because it just seemed like something he’d do. 

“Who did you do it with?” You asked. Was it with a prostitute? A fellow student? Perhaps some man he met at a bar? 

“I don’t know. All I know is that he looked like you,” Glenn’s arms wrapped tighter, his hair tickling your neck, “But don’t worry about it, he’s gone now.” He said that like he expected you to be relieved or something, but instead you were starting to feel unnerved. 

“Let’s get married,” Glenn unwrapped an arm, and brought it to your hair, which he played with, “Like we said we would, when we were younger.” 

You sighed, “Glenn, we were kids, you don’t actually think…” But he pressed a finger to your lips. 

“Shhh…” From his expression, you could tell he wanted you to keep your mouth shut, “The marriage will be good, for both you and your family. You won’t have to worry about managing the estate, and your family gets to keep all its secrets.” 

“And you?”

He smiled, looking so much like the boy you fell in love with, “I’ll get to be with you, and that’s all I want.”

You could care less about not having to manage the estate, that was already assured for you through James, who grew up wanting nothing more than to be the next duke. But keeping the family’s secrets secret, that… you’d kill for that. 

Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad for you to be with Glenn. He was smart, good-looking, and no matter how long it’s been, he’s still the boy who stole your heart the day he left all those years ago. 

You shift your body, so that you’re now resting on his lap, legs wrapping around his waist, and you drape your arms around his shoulders. You’re so close to his face now, his eyes are wide, and his cheeks are starting to become red. You run a hand through his dark hair, and give him a peck on the forehead. Delighting in the way the red on his cheeks starts to spread to his ears. 

“Alright then,” You smirk. Although Glenn is the one holding all the cards, you’re still his greatest weakness, and that means you’re the one in control, “I’ll marry you, Glenn Alston.”

You press your lips against his, and smile, “Till death do us part.”

#yandere oc #yandere male #yandere male x reader #Glenn Alston #x reader #male reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you

[elvestoneanzelote1]

𝐀:𝐧- 𝐬𝗼 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝗼𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝗼𝗺𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝗺 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝗼𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝗼 𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝗼𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐧𝗼𝐭! 𝐇𝗼𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝗼𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭/𝐧𝗼𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐭.

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢 (𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐭𝗼𝐧𝐢𝐜) 𝐱 𝐞𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫.

. 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 2 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

.

You were the elder sister of Osamu Dazai more (not really) you were more likely with him since he was young as you were 2-3 years older then him. You took care of him well.. More likely you work as pretty far even outside Japan, which lead to traveling too when need and let two people as caretaker look after him.

He knows he have a sister, he knows how you look like through the portrait of yours in the hallway of the small house.

After all the presents he get every birthday make it obvious. But his mind of joy was short lived as he never saw you.. Truly, He never saw you giving them the gift or even visit him.

The two caretaker mock him into implying that he is just a burden to you or sort.

The words hurts him more and more as he turn 14 as he finally attempted to kill himself.

As often it was you got the news making you to rush back to Japan.

Unfortunately, You were late.. He was taken by a doctor as the caretakers unfortunately found dead alarming you.

Your mind in frenzy and pain as you even lose your younger brother. Oh how you should have look after him yourself.

Yes you work at early of age more likely, due to your ability, been helpful though it was slightly illegal work but not murdering or sort.

...

.

..

Time went by in two years, as your search came to an end as you work in Japan on those due to time force to resign that work that make you stay outside of Japan traveling and more likely you earn a lot through there. Which also one of the reason why you are able to live in Yokohama for now.

"Oi Dazai! Get your lazy butt to move!" Shouted a voice as your body move to where the voice was to see a certain ginger hair boy with a brunette you are familiar of or so you think.

"Ma~ Chuuya There is no-" he paused as his brown eye flickered onto yours that seems to be staring at him.

It widens a bit as he approach you, as Chuuya the ginger hair boy look confused as he followed suit.

"My what a lovely lady, what brings you here? Am I too handsome for you not able to lay eyes off from me?" Asked Dazai as You shook your head.

"I apologize for staring it is just you.. Look familiar"

"Oh? Perhaps so.. May I know your name, Miss?"

You were abit hesitant as you took notice of their clothing well.. Specifically The brunette clothing as The ginger hair male look casual.

"Don't hesistate, Well let us first introduced first.. I'm Osamu Dazai" said the brunette as your eyes widen a bit making him slightly confused by your reaction as he narrowed his eyes when Chuuya introduced himself to you.

His eyes are deceiving him.. Right? You look exactly like.. No.. Why would his adopted sister be here either way.. Right?

"I'm.. Y/n l/n"

Dazai couldn't help but smirk and glance at Chuuya signaling him to leave leading Chuuya be reluctant yet, does so.

"So.. Y/n L/n.. More likely... Oneesan" said Dazai as his eyes darken at you.

Your eyes widen at the mention word.

"So.. Your-"

"Indeed.. (Chuckles) the one and only.. I didn't thought.. You will finally come back to Japan after.. All this years of.. Isolating me" the last line of his word make your spine chill as your mouth was dry, unable to speak out.

"I.."

"Your job was tough.. I know but you never visit me.. Like I never exist.." He walk in circle around your form as he stop and took a strand of your hair.

"You know.. It hurt me.. Knowing well even if I have an elder sister who.. Adopted me.. She never visited me, Even if it was Christmas nor new year."

You were quiet as it was true you never visited Japan for quiet some time.

"I.."

"But that's alright after all your here now, we can always find the happiness together now.. I heard from others.. That"

His face lean up closer to your face making you take a step back.

"You have been searching for me for about a year! I was so happy but.. You stopped why Did you gave up so easily? Was I not worth anything?"

"N-no it's nothing like that, i-"

"That's alright now, Neesan after all.. Now I found you and we can always be together do you have a house? Perhaps so"

"I.. Do but.. "

"Hmm? Are you trying to leave me again?"

"O-of course not.. I can always visit your work, Dazai" you said as you smile a bit nervously.

He tilted his head a bit.

"Right you will be.. But can't I stay with you, Y/n-oneesan?"

"Um... Sure.. Sure..?" You muttered as he beamed and hugged you firmly as you couldn't help but feel you make a grave mistake.

A mistake on meeting Dazai again.

Just hope that at least you can have your freedom.

.

.

.

.

.

.

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A:n- that's all good day/night to you all.. hope you take care of yourself!!

#yandere x reader #yandere bsd #yandere bsd x reader #bsd #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #yandere osamu dazai #yandere Osamu #Platonic #Y/n x Dazai #yandere dazai x fem reader #yandere dazai #yandere dazai x reader #Elder sister #dazai x fem reader

[justporo]

Mirror, mirror on the wall

A Night of Fake Smiles and Hidden Lies: Part 3

Author's Note: In which there will be smut. That yet again wasn't initially planned at this point, but we already know these two do what they want - in front of a mirror... I know this has been done before, so I don't even remotely claim this idea although it was much more innocent before I read other people's stuff. And now here we are - enjoy! (Also this chapter is by no means plot relevant for those who want to skip)

Song: Killshot - Magdalena Bay (slowed + reverb) Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav Rating: Explicit Warnings: Explicit sexual content

CHAPTER LIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

~~~

„How do we keep doing this all the time?”, you asked Astarion through your happy tears. “I guess this is what people like to call the ‘honeymoon phase’”, the vampire responded laughing but his cheeks were a bit wet as well.

“It’s exhausting”, you complained “I hope it never stops.” To that the vampire laughed even more and kissed you. “Now, let’s go or we won’t make it to this ball”, he said and gave you a light slap on the butt. “You’re the one who keeps distracting me!”, you shouted and stabbed a finger into his bare chest peeking from his robe.

Astarion raised his hands in defence and made to turn away. You shook your head and wanted to grab your few pieces of makeup you owned to finish your look, but Astarion was behind you again. “Allow me one last distraction, my love”, he said and held up another small box. You rolled your eyes at him: “So you lied about the necklace being the last gift.” “No, I didn’t! These go with the necklace. Also, they will go nicely with your beautiful silver eyes, my sweet”, the pale elf pouted and opened up the box to reveal a set of dangling earrings with matching moonstones and a few gold hoops that were meant for the pierced parts of your pointy ears.

You sighed and made doe eyes at your vampire: “You’re too sweet, Astarion. These are beautiful. Thank you.” You grabbed the pieces of jewellery and put them in, taking another glance in the mirror – stunning.

“Now go get dressed yourself, I won’t let you go in this robe”, you shooed Astarion off and went to grab your grooming stuff.

Astarion sighed and left you to it. With your few things in hand, you knelt in front of the huge mirror – your dress bunched up all around you. You grabbed a piece of kohl to rim your eyes and put a little bit of tinted oil on your lips and cheeks. The final touch was a bit of the perfume oil that Astarion had already gifted you some time ago. Personally picked out by him, smelling of orange and teak – and proven to make you even more irresistible to him.

When you were done you turned to watch Astarion but he was already fully dressed, only tugging at the lacy bits of his sleeves under his doublet jacket.

Your jaw dropped. Before you could only imagine how incredibly he would look in those clothes but seeing it was a whole different affair. He looked not only elegant: he looked like someone people would erect statues for and paint portraits of – so they could swoon and cry over his eternal beauty for generations. You felt a bit light-headed and your chest clench in pain when you imagined that this man was truly yours.

He saw you looking, mouth agape, from across the room. So, he moved into his usual elegant stance, one hand casually held up, his shoulder back, one leg slightly behind the other – smirk on his face at full power: “So tell me, my love, how do I look?” Oh, the bastard knew exactly how beautiful he was.

“Not a day over two hundred, my dear”, you offered and pursed your lips. His shoulders fell forward and he looked at you, eyes half-lidded, tongue in cheek: “Count on Tav to destroy a vampire’s ego.” You cackled and got up.

“Just kidding, my love. I’m going to be real with you now. You look beautiful.” At this Astarion’s head and ears perked up. You had his full attention.

“You look devilishly handsome”, you spoke and began sauntering over to him, swaying your hips. Time for you to turn this man’s weapons on himself for a bit. He’s made you flustered often enough, maybe you could repay the favour for once.

“If sin was given a body and a face it would be yours, Astarion. And yet your creator would cry for the beauty they’d created and had given to the world”, you hushed, stretched out your hands as if trying to reach him and then closing them, drawing them back to your chest with a sigh and widening eyes.

Astarion’s whole posture straightened and his crimson eyes widened. You were sure he would have blushed had he still been capable of doing that. His lips slightly parted as he stared at you in awe: “Oh, my love, I think there was a poet lost in you.”

You stopped walking towards him and grinned at him: “Want another one?”

“Oh please, my eloquent little poet, you know flattery will get you anywhere with me!”

At that you made a little “oooh” and elegantly placed your hand on your chest as if pretending to be shocked. “Is that so? I had barely noticed”, you grinned and batted your eyelashes at him – this dress was obviously doing things to you – or maybe it was Astarion in his whole regal glory.

You coughed to clear your throat and began prowling over to him again.

“You look like a perfect piece of wrapped chocolate that I’d love to slowly unravel and then pop into my mouth”, you continued and let your tongue click at the end. Astarion’s eyes widened even more while you kept coming closer. “Or maybe I’d love to feel you melt in my hands until you’re gone completely.” You firmly held his gaze while you prowled closer. The vampire seemed stunned, but a proud grin crept onto his lips.

But then you stopped suddenly as you realised you had no more lines. So much for turning the canons on him for once.

Your brain just kind of short-circuited and you doubled over laughing. Astarion was stunned by the sudden mood change but then joined in: “Oh, my sweet, we have to work on your delivery.” At that you snickered: “Come on, Astarion, some of your lines are terrible.”

The vampire pouted: “I’d say they’ve gotten better.”

“Yeah, but only since you’ve been with me”, you pointed out as you straightened your back again.

“Yes, because with you it’s real”, Astarion answered pointedly. You threw him a warm smile.

“So, my seduction didn’t work?”, you asked. The vampire made a face: “Started off strong and then declined abysmally, love.” You laughed and walked over the rest to Astarion and kissed him.

“Ah my love, we have to do your hair and give you some shoes, don’t we?”, he said after that. You looked at your feet – oh yes, he was right.

Astarion grabbed your hand and dragged you back to the mirror. He took out the pins holding up your now dry hair until soft waves fell down onto your shoulders. Then he used some of them to loosely put up some strands at the back of your head while he hummed softly. Very quickly he had tamed your mane. Just like with everything else he’d done great job – you looked magnificent.

The vampire looked very pleased with himself looking at you. In fact he could barely stop staring at you. But when you whacked him on the arm softly, he snapped out of his starstruck admiration for you.

He went over to the bed once more and grabbed a pair of shoes from under it. Some flats the same colour of your dress with some silk bands.

Astarion sat down on the chaise longue once more and patted his thigh, shoe in hand: “Come here, love, let’s finish up this business.”

Without hesitating you put your naked foot on top of his thigh. The vampire’s red eyes immediately lit up and he looked up at you with a smirk. You smirked back and gasped when he softly pushed up your skirt. He pushed it up in an agonizingly slow movement over your knee; but then didn’t stop until it was almost pushed up all to your waist.

Then he let his free hand wander up your leg, pressing a kiss to your shin while still looking up at you. His hand was at the back of your knee making you gasp again and lifting your leg ever so slightly. He softly put on your shoe and slowly tied the ribbon around your ankle as you watched his long, elegant fingers at work. Yet again, the heat from earlier in the night made itself known.

Once done you switched to the other leg – the same procedure followed. You almost moaned at the vampire’s soft caress of your legs when you noticed he stole small sideways glances. And as you turned you could see: yourself looking back. You were reflecting in the mirror. Your leg kind of levitating in the air. And more: you could see the indents of Astarion’s fingers on your thigh. Your mouth fell open, then something clicked into place for you.

“I see there was another reason for the mirror in the bedroom”, you drawled as you let your gaze wander back to Astarion’s gaze. He smirked at you, sinful promise twinkling in his ruby eyes. “Maybe”, he simply replied while one of his eyebrows twitched and he finished tying your other shoe.

He pressed a kiss to your knee while he stroked your thigh – his grip a lot firmer now. You looked over to the mirror and saw his touch – and also, how you started arching your back. Some bits of your sinful lacey underwear were showing.

Need rose in you, pooled between your legs and sent pulsating jolts out through your body.

You slowly put your leg down from Astarion’s thigh but kept holding up your skirt with one hand. The vampire just kept watching you with an intense stare. The way he was sitting with his legs spread, one finger absent-mindedly, softly tapping on his knee and his lips slightly parted while your eyes were locked, made you think you weren’t the only one feeling an urge to feel each other’s bodies.

So, you sat down slowly on his lap with your legs around his hips – carefully placing your already wet core to where you immediately felt his growing and hardening need for you. You felt like a goddess – blessing your chosen with the utmost gift of yourself.

Astarion’s hands were almost immediately on your ass, pulling you down harder onto him. “I hope you’ve thought about how accessible these outfits are, Astarion”, you whispered and rolled your hips, making him groan. “Of course, my love, how couldn’t I?”, he snickered back and then moaned again, his head rolling back at you rewarding him with some delicious friction for his thoughtfulness.

You looked at the mirror again, saw yourself hovering above the piece of furniture, skirts all bunched up, revealing more of your lingerie beneath it. It was weird to see yourself like this – but also exhilarating.

Astarion saw you observing yourself and his face split with a dirty smile, looking perfectly pleased with himself: “Can’t stop looking at yourself like this, my naughty little pet? I can’t blame you. Because neither can I.”

You moaned at his praise and arched your back to offer up your breasts to the vampire who happily went to kiss your exposed neck with a wide-open mouth, licking up the hem of your neckline, his fangs slightly grazing the delicate smooth skin there.

You moaned and closed your eyes as you felt his arms around your back, pulling you even closer to him and holding you steady. Then you felt his hands reach inside your dress, freeing your breasts until they were propped up by the bodice. When you took another peek, you saw how nicely they were perked up in this position. And you couldn’t help being turned on massively seeing yourself like this – it made you feel ethereal.

And then the vampire hungrily devouring you. Worshipping at the altar that was your body.

You looked back at Astarion and pushed your tits into his face – losing any last shred of shyness you might’ve felt before. He’d called you a goddess before, you were keen to act on it.

The vampire groaned and bucked his hips, so you felt the friction of his erection against your core. Then he graciously took one of the hardened buds of your breasts in his mouth with a sigh. You gasped when you felt his tongue twirl around it and then how he softly bit into it. You hissed, soft waves of your hair raining down on your shoulders when your head fell back.

Your hands wandered into Astarion’s hair as you watched him let his tongue wander over your breasts, extracting small cries of pleasure from you whenever the tip of his tongue wandered over the tips or his teeth softly scratched your skin as he stole looks at you above him and in the mirror in turn.

You grabbed his curls at the back of his neck with one of your hands and steadied yourself with the other on his shoulder when you could barely contain yourself anymore. You dragged his head back by his soft locks. His mouth was wide open, his lips glistening as he licked over them and his bared fangs as he grinned at you – knowing exactly he’d been the one to get you this worked up and desperate for him, knowing he was the one making you lose the very last pieces of innocence you might’ve held – sinful bastard.

“I need you inside of me, Astarion”, you moaned and begged him. His grin only grew as his free hand wandered between you, past your intricate underwear and immediately found the sensitive nub between your spread legs. And the tip of his finger moved, agonizingly slow as you saw your head roll back in the mirror again, an invisible force lifting up your skirts and lifting up the lace of your lingerie.

You rolled your hips against him more aggressively now, trying to get more, but this only made the vampire withdraw his teasing finger. He pressed you down hard again on his crotch and you frantically tried to grind against him, earning another groan from him.

“Gods”, Astarion exclaimed breathlessly “if I’d known this would turn you on this much, I would have bought a mirror months ago.” You didn’t answer, merely rolled your hips again, desperate for more traction – a slave to your own lust now. And Astarion watched you, letting the hand that had been teasing you slide between you again. But this time to let the ball of his hand drag down over the bulge of his hard cock - once.

“Say please”, he purred in a deep tone that poured over you like cold water; sending shivers throughout your body as his hand went back to holding you steadily over him.

But you’d understood: “Please”, you hushed and let your hand take the place of his. Feeling him trough his pants as you dragged your fingers down against his hardened length, making him growl. That’s how you kept going for a while. Your own lust growing as you so clearly felt his.

The vampire held you, one hand on your behind, the other on your back and watched you his head leaning from side to side as if he was observing the most unbelievable creature he’d ever seen. From time to time, he slapped your ass without warning, making you gasp and hiss and wanting to push yourself against him harder. He also sucked on your breasts again until you couldn’t endure it anymore.

With your hand in his hair, you pulled back his head again and pressed your open lips onto his eagerly, while aggressively pushing your hips against his crotch. Your tongue was desperately trying to gain dominance over his, but it was forlorn. Astarion was still somehow the more dominant one despite you sitting on top of him, pressing your body against him. You broke off the kiss. “Please, Astarion, fuck me”, you practically begged and pressed your body against his again.

The vampire chuckled as he threw another sideways glance. For a moment he shook his head absent-mindedly: “I can’t wait to have you in front of this mirror again and again, my sweet – on my lap again or on all fours, your body facing the mirror while I’m taking you – or pressed against it.” You whimpered at his promise and desperately clawed at his shoulder and neck, begging for release, begging for him to fulfil your pleas.

And then Astarion finally complied, quickly opening up his pants to free his dick, simply and carelessly pushing your delicate underwear aside before lifting you up and filling you completely in one swift movement.

“You’re so delicious in every kind of way, darling”, Astarion moaned as his eyes widened at this feeling of you clenching around him, finally.

You felt so deliciously full and weren’t completely done taking in this new sensation when Astarion started to move. With his hands on your hips now to help you get more movement, he thrust into you painfully slow at first. But he quickly lost his temper as he watched your mirror image and his movements became quick and hard.

This wasn’t about being elegant anymore, this was about sating a carnal hunger. About giving a goddess the worship, she rightfully deserved. And a worshipper reaping the fruits of his loyal prayers.

“Look at you, my love”, he pressed out while fucking you. You turned your head and saw yourself: mouth open and tongue out, boobs bouncing wildly, your hips being rocked by an invisible force. Seeing it while feeling Astarion hit deep inside you was enough to make you come quickly, desperately clawing at the vampire’s shoulders as you rode your high and white bliss made you forget that you were still mortal for a moment. The vampire kept thrusting into you shortly until he also came violently and with a hiss, joining you in your ascension.

You could feel him twitching inside your body as you drifted off to the stars in your joint ecstasy.

Then you slumped together, both breathless, chests heaving. Holding onto each other carefully but desperately like castaways on the open sea. You stayed like this for some time, just staring into each other’s wide and open eyes in awe and love.

“We had better not ruined my doublet”, Astarion sneered after a few long moments of trying to regain composure. “Well, fuck you for putting a mirror in here. And fuck you for fucking me in front of it then”, you snarled and lightly boxed his shoulder before you carefully climbed off his lap.

“Is that a promise, my love?”, the vampire replied with a shit-eating grin as he carefully helped you stand up. You just rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but to wonder about possible future endeavours.

“You’re ruining me”, you whispered.

“I can only hope so”, Astarion snickered naughtily.

You both quickly helped each other become decent again, fixing up each other’s appearances. Then Astarion cupped your face and gave you a quick kiss: “I love you, you know that, my naughty little succubus?” “Love you too, you kinky little vampire.” You both grinned and snickered, then said vampire grabbed you by the hand and led you down the stairs.

“Now, let’s go or all the champagne will be gone”, he said while you went after him with another giggle.

Tags: @aurasyn @margoteve @usuallyunlikelyfox @hollowmasque @worryknotdear

#astarion #astarion x tav #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x oc #astarion x you #fanfic #fanfiction #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #a night of fake smiles and hidden lies #tav

[matamisin]

I am absolutely living for the Stardew art. I love that game so much and have over 600 hours of playtime in it. I did have a little bit of a request but feel free to ignore! Could you rate all of the potential spouses based on your personal interpretations?

Hiii!! Yes yes yes thank you for this ask- I planned to do quick portraits anyways! <3 <3

But let's start!!

[PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, reblogs welcome! >:3c)

Harvey: 10/10

Handsome yes yes

Very sweet and loyal like bro LETS GO that's all I need

Doctor?? AKA he fixes up love interest who regularly gets into trouble? Endless possibilities BRO this is my favorite trope to write/draw about

HOWEVER HARVEY DOESN'T ACCEPT ANY INSURANCE HE JUST CHARGES OUR ASSES bro I'm trying to have a tender moment of almost dying and him worrying and then BOOM hands me my bill like "see you at home honey ily"

Overall he would treat us right yes

Animals LOVE his ass but he's awkward with them LOL

He's often a tired man due the clinic but he'll pull through to do things with the farmer when they're dating (like outings)

In the beginning when farmer is frequently getting hurt in the mines and being brought in hurt, he buys them a walkie-talkie. He's said multiple times that he doesn't recommend going in those dangerous places but learns that farmer's determined to keep going so he'll do what he can to make sure they can relay when they need help

He'll chime in on the walkie when he sees farmer going towards the mines and has them check things off a mental list (hi, this is Harvery- going to the mines? Do you have your weapon? How about food? You have your first-aid kit on you too right?)

This man will be TENSE the whole day when he knows farmer is in the mines. He'll only ease up once he knows they're not in there anymore

Disclaimer: from here on most of what I write will be 100% from my head because I haven't married anyone else yet LMFAO

Sam: 10/10

I interpret him as the golden retriever type- very hyper and friendly

That just makes him 1000% more loveable

HE'D TREAT US RIGHT

Very good with kids cause of Vincent which is like YES

A little blunt sometimes but that's wassup

Doesn't eat the best (AKA I give him two pizzas every week. Hmm. So maybe that means I'M the problem lol)

Also doesn't really know a lot of cooking, but when he moves in farmer finds new-looking cookbooks tucked away in his spaces

I feel like he'd be the type to have a switch in attitude- he's v friendly UNTIL he has reason to distrust/not like someone and then he'll flip from bright to cold (especially if the person has bad intentions about somebody he cares about)

Doesn't realize farmer and him are dating he just thinks they’re hanging out a lot and just kissing as really good friends

When he does realize they’re dating he gets all flustered and red

Would let you win at Mario-Kart

Despite his goofiness, he knows how to be a gentleman. He's always keeping an eye on farmer and making sure they're okay. If they're out together, the moment the sun goes down his jacket is on farmer's shoulders. When it's raining and he wakes up late and sees that farmer has gone out of the house for the day, he'll get up quick and run around with an umbrella and a thermos of hot coffee until he finds farmer. He'll follow farmer around with the umbrella covering mostly farmer, so he gets pretty drenched.

Very vocal about his love

Shane: 10/10

Ah the chicken man himself

ALSO GREAT WITH KIDS but in a different light- he's way more protective about them whereas Sam is more the laid-back and playful parent-figure (he throws his children into the air)

Recovering from his alcoholism and the habits that came with it (messiness and cluttery) but he's trying his best aww

Will rub his stubble on your face when he comes in for a hug ouchie

Even though he is not a dad- he just comes with dad stuff (dad outfits, dad jokes, EVERYTHING)

His chickens are protective of him so you must prove yourself worthy

(In my headcanons, Joja is kinda twisted) Will start to distance himself from Joja after farmer tells him of how they're trying to hurt the Junimos. He may eventually quit to work elsewhere, even though he doesn’t really know what Junimos are but something about farmer telling him about them seems sincere

He's very cuddly after getting to know him and dating. His love language happens to be physical touch and every touch makes him fall harder

This also means he gets a little sad when it's summer and too hot to cuddle that farmer turns around in their sleep. He gets pouty in the morning after until he gets a kiss LMAO

He'll frequently realize how messy he leaves his spaces, and will clean up. He tries to upkeep the cleanliness and manages it for a few days before it starts to get messy again. Sometimes it lasts a while, but sometimes it just slips his mind due to bad habits

Farmer pops into mind every time he has an urge to drink, and he'll shake it off and go do something else for them. He's DETERMINED to be the best person he can be for farmer

Alex: 10/10

A little rough at first lol- his attitude is very icky in the beginning BUT he's cute 

Once you get through that exterior he practically does a 180- HE'S SO SWEET AND CARING and no longer uhhh icky

He would tackle things for you (can he help farmer out of the mines when they pass out in the game? If he does I'd like to think he just picks them up and BOOKS it for the exit knocking anything in his path down LMFAO)

Becomes pouty when he gets a little jealous

Again he's very sweet- he kisses Evelyn and George on the cheeks every morning before he leaves the house, he often thinks about his late mom and visits her grave with flowers from Pierre's and has a small picnic there

I feel he would be prone to dreams about his mom, waking up in a cold sweat and tears. After the 8-heart event he gets up and does something sweet like making a whole breakfast for Evelyn & George or giving Dusty some quality time with walks, playing, and a good treat

Will be extremely protective over farmer. Farmer gives him a heart attack every time they go to the mines or the skull cavern or even in the sewer like baby what are you doing WHY ARE YOU GOING INTO THE MANHOLE

The caves he can't follow farmer with because he knows he isn't trained to fight monsters like farmer is and might hold them back instead, but he'll wait outside or tell Harvey that farmer's in the mines instead

Doesn't come out with it but he needs a lot of reassurance due to abandonment issues. He gets a little clingy and touchy but a little shy. (reaching for farmer’s hand/just pinching onto a part of the farmer’s clothes and holding on)

Sebastian: 10/10

This one might be rough cause I've never really felt much for him IM SORRY

Once farmer asks him out he's very unsure how to proceed. He'll call them things like dude and bro *with love*

It's literally like pulling teeth for him to call farmer honey just cause he's never been the affectionate type till now hehehe he'll try to say it and then drop to his knees like OTL and curl up (He'll get it eventually tho- this is just like the first few months LMFAO)

He has frogs right? He'll show you his frogs 

Your void chickens will love this emo boy they just vibe y'know?

He shows his love through acts of service and gifts, finding out the things you love and bringing them to you

As awkward as he is, his true intentions are very evident when he starts to really try to reconnect with Robin and asking her for advice on most anything he hasn't much a clue about.

He wants to be able to properly feel like part of his family, because farmer tells him that he deserves to feel loved there too. He’ll have a difficult heart-to-heart with Robin, Demetrius, and Maru and over time the family dynamic starts to heal. Sebastian is eternally grateful for farmer and tells them about the relationship and they’re all overjoyed to have farmer as part of the family too

He WILL stop smoking if farmer ever raises concern for his well-being

He starts to come out of his shell more (in general) as he and farmer progress their relationship. He tries his best to be a great partner, and everyone can sense that his demeanor is a little bit brighter than before. He starts to not be as shy about PDA too

He has many hoodies for farmer to steal HOWEVER they're all the exact same pair HAHAHA

Elliott: 10/10

I may also struggle with Elliott for similar reasons

Handsome right off the bat bro

But you'll never be able to be the one with the great hair in the relationship cause man he dominates in that

I see him as a gentle lover- very old-school romantic

He writes farmer love poems and songs often HE WILL SERENADE FARMER EVEN THOUGH HE'S ALREADY MOVED IN

Has pictures of farmer EVERYWHERE like his desk, in his books and notebooks, and has one of those accordion picture holders in his wallet of farmer and himself (and their child(ren) when time comes) He shows them off to the other villagers at the Saloon even tho they literally know farmer LMAOO

Has a very comforting vibe to him- he knows how to coddle farmer after they take a visit to the clinic

He'd let farmer use his favorite pen, trusting that it would return to him

Romantic gestures are EVERYWHERE. Songs, poems, so many pretty flowers in farmer's hair. 

I think he'd be the best cook out of everyone. Farmer wants to go out on a fancy date out of the village?? S'NOT GOOD ENOUGH- Elliott will change the whole decor of the kitchen and spend hours cooking and preparing for farmer to come home and then he plays all the roles (waiter, bus person, lover, etc) through the entire meal. But if farmer really actually wants to go out he'll go with it

Bachelorettes will be done in part 2 soon!

#stardew valley #sdv #stardew harvey #stardew sam #stardew shane #stardew alex #stardew sebastian #stardew elliott #sdv harvey #sdv sam #sdv alex #sdv shane #sdv sebastian #sdv elliott #stardew valley farmer #sdv farmer #stardew valley headcanons #i dont know how to format things anymore LMAO im very rusty on tumblr #had a lot of fun with these!! i hope its not too mesyy lol cause i also came up with these on the spot ad;jlaksdj #they are all 10 out of 10 i dont have the heart to put anything else on the ratings ;laksdf;lksd #but here are some of my headcanons about them!! if theres things in there that are like 100% canon thats a coincidence LMAOOO #im too scramble brained to keep track of canon and non canon things hehehe

[amoulerc]

— CL16; PORTRAITS (part 3) (part 1 here) (part 2 here)

in which y/n is the Ferrari photographer and she’s secretly dating Charles Leclerc (not so secret then) // no warnings apply

CL16!smau (fc : mxmtoon)

(Throwback to the first time they got a livestream together, long before they even date each other)

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55 and 8,745 others

ynsjpeg Happy birthday to the wonderful and loving, Carlos Sainz! Here’s to capture how talented you are on the grid 🎉

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carlossainz55 Thank you so much, yn! Let’s celebrate another day with you and Charles 👏 (liked by Charles Leclerc)

scuderiaferrari lovely as always 🥰🫶

charles_leclerc 19h

ynsjpeg 20h

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55 and 10,345 others

ynsjpeg The Grid.

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carlossainz55 Omg me

charles_leclerc Mate... danielricciardo boyfriend's best friend get it too lad

scuderiaferrari devilishly handsome

ynsjpeg :3

charles_leclerc That's a good candid

ynsjpeg I told you to pose

liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari and 15,745 others

ynsjpeg Fast car Sunday.

tagged scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc

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scuderiaferrari OMG OUR FAVES 🫶🫶

ynsjpeg right back at ya admins

(comments liked by charles_leclerc)

isahernaez loveliest ❤️

ynsjpeg You more my goddess 🫵🫶

carlossainz55 🙄🙄

ynsjpeg Don’t make that face Carlos

(comments liked by charles_leclerc)

danielricciardo yyyyynnnnnn slaaaaayy

ynsjpeg DANIEEELLLL right back at ya

landonorris the couple is couple-ing

ynsjpeg Still coupling dw

(comments liked by charles_leclerc)

charles_leclerc Absolutely gorgeous. 😚❤️

ynsjpeg hehe :3

(liked by charles_leclerc)

username1 GOALS

username2 yn marry me

ynsjpeg Charles pretend you don’t see this because I might

(comments liked by charles_leclerc)

username3 he looks good omg

ynsjpeg RIGHT??

(comments liked by charles_leclerc)

username4 your favorite sweater of him is it

ynsjpeg You’re so right my guy

(comments liked by charles_leclerc)

#charles leclerc #charles leclere × reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc × female reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc social media #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fic #formula one x reader

[lesbianslvt666]

Road Trip?

College au!

Mean! athlete!Ellie x trying to stand up for herself! Kind of an art major?(f)reader lmao

Ofc not proof read

pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt5

Synopsis: Ellie and you are roommates in your shared dorm, both in different majors, you ever see each other when it comes to be at the dorm, on parties or with Dina, your shared best friend. At first Ellie was nice, always kept to herself but never mean, until she got her first college girlfriend, everyone keep telling you how much she looked like you, including Dina. So when Ellie "cheated" on her ex, her reputation went from friendly reserved football player, to fuck girl, "I got all the girls" asshole, or so it seemed to you…

My eyelids dropped without my permission and sometimes closed. My neck sank in. My hand coincided with the brush, creating a large stripe on the canvas that hid the hours of work I had put into the face.

that was the part of the self-portrait I had the most trouble with.

When I saw my disaster, I groaned and stepped back as not to lash out and destroy the painting.

I looked at it from that distance. I realised that the proportions were off, that I lost the intensity of the pose. that the colours weren't strong enough in important areas, but too bright in others.

"Forty-five minutes," I jumped up from the floor and looked back at the familiar voice.

She chuckled and pointed to the picture, "The proportions are off," and I rolled my eyes at her remark.

"no shit sherlock" I slumped my shoulders and moved my head back and forth as the pain in my back got worse.

From behind me, I felt her arms sneak up to my shoulders and rub them with her calloused hands. "You know, I feel like you're thinking about this too much." I felt her hot breath tickle my ear, so close to my neck, so close to my face.

There wasn't much I could do. I let myself fall into her embrace, both of her arms now towering over me, holding me close, intertwining at my waist.

My body relaxed, but my heart beat so fast that I could feel it in my mouth

"Why don't you want me to make you feel good?

"I don't trust you, Williams." I rolled my eyes and turned on my heel to look at her.

The hairs on my arms bristled, don't let her win, my mind screamed as I tried to keep my gaze on hers.

She closed the space between our bodies, and I realized I wasn't moving.

thereupon she tilted her head a little to the side without taking her eyes off me, her grin widened, oh she knows, she knows she can't win, not his time...

I felt her towering over me, her body was so close to me I could smell her shampoo. I felt the warmth her body radiated, I could hear her breathing. My shoulders slumped forward and I shifted my line of sight.

She was laughing so hard at my pathetic attempt, I am tired, her presence irritated me. "What do you want anyway, Williams?" "I just want to help my lovely roommate," the playful grin on her handsome face grew even wider, "I don't need your help..." Ellie moved closer to me and put a hand behind her ear in a cartoonish way, "Speak up babe, you know I hate it when you whisper."

"I am too busy for your shit, plus, don't you have your exam tomorrow? You should study." my voice sounded a bit rougher than I expected, the hand that was behind her ear, was now in her heart. she opened her mouth, opened her plump lips, and closed her eyes while faking a gasp. "don't know, if you care about me or if you hate me" she turned around after seeing my uninterested reaction "Okay, well. fine... I have something to ask you, or rather propose to you." she picked up her backpack and opened it, holding out a scribbled note to me, her handwriting read.

"Van rent= on Joel

Feeding and extras= on us

Gas= on Joel"

"Okay, do not look at me like that, Y/N!". I handed her back the note, the simplicity of which, actually gave me more questions than answers.

"What's this?"

"t's a road trip, a van trip, an almost-everything-paid-for plan!" her face was beaming, her hands moving from side to side as if it was not obvious enough

"I mean yeah, but why are you showing me this?" didn't she wanted to get as far away from me as possible? As far as I knew, she did not like me.

"Doll, you fried all your little brain cells, trying so to figure out how to get your picture?" she rolled her eyes "look, the plan was Dina" I looked at Ellie with raised eyebrows "our Dina?" "Our Dina" she confirmed, calming down a bit as she was still having a hard time sharing our friend with me. "Her boyfriend Jesse and I." she paused, her features tightening. "but Dina did not want to let you down for spring break, so you are invited." she sat down on the mattress, opened her legs to be more comfortable, propped her forearms on the bed and looked at me.

"So, all I have to pay for is ..."

"Food and extras," she interrupted me, running a hand over her face, "I read it, but what are extras?"

"I do not know, Y/N, souvenirs maybe? Whatever else you want to buy?"

"Where do you wanna go?" "I do not know, Y/N. We are going to the beach, LA maybe, and then to Chicago, Broadway, all that good shit"

"Who's driving?"

"Jesse and me."

"Does your dad know I am going too? Did he agree?" Ellie rolled her eyes.

"He's not my dad. but yeah, he knows. Dina asked him if you could come. he still thinks you are the "cute girl who helped me bring my stuff to the dorm." he likes you more than I do."

"Well, I like him more than you."

"Shut up." she tensed and looked down, shying on me. I considered teasing her a little for that, however I choose to ask a different question.

"For how long? "

"The whole spring break. We'll be back a few days before school start." she said now, bored of looking at me, looking at her hands up close.

"look, sleep on it okay? You look like a living corpse" her remark came after I didn’t answer the last part.  "you wake up tomorrow morning, ditch the first few lectures, finish the painting and you tell me what I wanna hear" she was now standing, rocking side to side.

"and what do you want to hear?" I stepped closer, squinting my eyes, my head moved to the side in anticipation.

"I wanna hear you say yes Doll."

#ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #lesbian #sapphic #wlw #mean!ellie #artist oc #your name au #i dont wanna use the yourname card but i imagined the convo and she name dropped so i coukdnt just not use it fuk #probably eventual smut #athlete!ellie #roadtrip

[fumifooms]

Marchil crumbs part 3

Part 1 - Part 2 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7

Count of times canon reminds us that Chilchuck is very attracted to blondes: 3rd For context: this is the canon explanation for everyone's shapeshifters

I can’t get over Chilchuck seeing Marcille like she has anime sparkles around her hair. How long have you stared at it. It’s like with the handsome Senshi where everyone is like "no this looks legit and absolutely like the real one" but her hair is shinier/prettier in the changeling than in the actual her

It drives me crazy that Marcille styles her hair every day for herself but little does she know she’s giving Chilchuck the show of his life, daily arranging his favorite thing aka blonde hair into different unique ornate hairstyles. Not that he cares about the details but ohh my god.

It makes sense that Chil would be the first one to notice her hair being all loose and messy then. He’s bothered by seeing her like this and wants her to tie it up again, and is even more unsetled and shocked when she says she doesn’t want to anymore. Though he also recovers from the shock quicker than Laios and takes charge of the situation. HE NOTICED. HE CARESSSS. IT BUGS HIM

^ That is what you call a character arc, of becoming attached to her hair lmfaoo(more like to Marcille and her habits). Or lying. "Man I sure wish she'd shave her hair I'd be less distracted on the job. Her golden majestic hair is so blinding with how shiny and sparkly it is ugh" /j

He chose to do a portrait teehee <3

Chilchuck defending her honor even under mind control that makes them honest zombies

Marcille out there defending his VIRTUE. It’s not just that he didn’t commit infidelity, he HAS A PURE HEART!! Honestly, assigned virtuous by a bicorn would so be the type of novel shenanigan that Marcille would hella romanticize. Which we do see her do lmao but <3

They're so funny together in the golden kingdom chapters. First of all, sitting in front of each other at the table? Nice. Second, them being on the same wavelength all throughout lmao.

Them. Sharing the same numerous braincells, nodding together and making good use of it to make good decisions for the party. Valuing their noses

Also can we apreciate that they like, can talk together. Communicate and debate. Even under tougher situations or more sensitive topics. Shit this would have been a good place to put the pages when Marcille was dungeon lord... But they're lined up for part 4 and part 3 is already full with pics... You guys have no idea how much Tetris I'm doing for these marchil crumbs posts

I wanna do a full compilation of every time he laughs at her but in the meantime have this small imperfect collection as well as this reddit comp. I swear she's the person/thing that makes him laugh and smile the most. Besides alcohol maybe

The gang and Chilchuck both knowing her well and not at all lol. Gotta love Chilchuck's confidence about knowing her favorite meal, and him remembering the bare minimum that even Laios hasn't lol

Marcille infesting his life to the point that, quote, "her delusions" are even part of his adventurer’s bible life timeline. The only picture in fact, in the streamlined canon reference to Chilchuck's life. "Hey is Marcille imagining herself as an halfling and Chil's wife with a mini Chilchuck baby Chilchuck's canon family appearances" canon: well no but actually yes /j

Chil at her bedside <3

Looking out for each other comp Yes thank you Chil captain obvious (he's trying his best and doesn't want to die let's not be mean c'mon). But like you know with that whole scene of the mad sorcerer attacking, for Chil it must have been the most terrifying thing ever. Ancient magic?? By an elf, targeting them with murderous intent?? With only an elf with also ancient magic to keep them safe attack by attack in the nick of time?? His biggest nightmare. I'm also reminded of when Chil talks with Leed about how "our magician held under the mad sorcerer's attack" all fond and 'I am so relieved I can trust her with my life' and Leed is like "That silly looking elf?!" and Chil was like "Yeah she's silly. At least she's strong tho." I'm getting carried away but yes this scene was relationship-defining in some ways

But they keep each other in check too

She was trying to make conversation and sharing her interests aw Chil come on

They're sooo domestic. "Chil are we there yet" "Marcille I swear to god if you ask me that one more time-". Also second time through the manga that Marcille squishes Chil against the ground/wall.

Get squeezed idiot

Part 4 is here!

#dungeon meshi #marchil #shipping crumbs #on today's menu: sigh... chilchuck fixating on blonde hair again... Marcille defending his virtue. Sharing brain waves across a dinner tabl #they're so... married behavior #looking ateachother and nodding wordlessly that they have to keep laiosfro mdoing this or that.

[chiptrillino]

Ah, look at him! Handsome at every age. 🥰 I can't with baby Jee's cheeks, though. Cute aggression has me wanting to bite them. I love how you can just tell he was a very precocious kid, able to smell bs over a mile away and just not having it. Tried imagining him with longer hair, and it's not computing. 😅

not gona lie its a bit tricky to figure out...

[ID: one portrait copied two times of lt. jee form avatar the last airbender. 3/4 profile to the left. the first one on the left hair down, the second one on the right hair up in a top knot. End ID.]

in all honesty, at this point, i am biased and am probably drawing him more atractive then he actually is.... on the other hand, its one of the smaler joys in my life to draw middle aged man now so....

#atla #jee #chip!ask #i feel a bit like cracked the code! #but also... ehhh #-pats jee- #i tryed something new with line art.. i mean... doens't look that different than usually i think. maybe a little???

[nectar-cellar]

Henry Cavill Celebrity Sim for The Sims 3

This is my first and probably last attempt to make a celebrity sim, and who better to recreate than handsome actor Henry Cavill?

This portrait was taken in live mode. He looks better in live mode than in CAS mode.

Sorry for the obnoxious text I just don’t want him to be put behind paywalls or mistaken for another game.

I saved him with no-CC outfits and filled out his personality traits so you can move him into your town right away. Some of the clothes and traits are from expansion packs but you can just replace it if you don’t have it. He is basically just a base sim for you to customize however you want.

Details:

young adult sim

zip file contains a text file with links to all his cc, and his .sim file to put in your SavedSims folder

warning: slider heavy

terms of use: just have fun!

Special thank you to @criisolatex for the Henry Cavill skin and makeup that is essential for this sim!

How to install:

Put the Henry Cavill .sim file in your SavedSims folder.

Open the text document, download all the CC listed, put the packages in your Mods folder.

Find him in the sim bin in Create A Sim mode.

Download: simfileshare / mega

#s3cc #ts3 #the sims 3 #dl: sims

[snakegorl212006]

Move in

“I assure you this house would be the best house you’ll stay at” mr.Crowly said as we entered the mansion  “I see thank you for lending me this place” I replied and he smiled “why it’s not a problem. Sense I’m so generous, I already hired some moving company to handle your things” He said “oh I can’t thank you enough” I smiled “Of Course. As much as I would stay for your delicious tea, I have other business to conduct. You’ll have fun and your stuff will arrive shortly.” crowly said as he handed me the keys to the place and left. I decided to explore. This place is massive. Almost like each wing has a different time period and vibe. 

Wing 1 Heartslabyul

Victorian era

Across from the main house,where I’m staying, is the first wing. Crowly called it Heartslabyul and I can see why. Red was the main theme like the hearts I assume it represents. There were meny references to playing card and roses. There was a vase of fresh roses which had red paint stains. A gambling room which was cool. the kitchen which had some clover patterns on the floor tiles. There was some sort of photography room where things were covered by sheets. Underneath the white sheets were a bunch of couches and one blank canvas. I took the dusty sheets the the laundry room to do later. I continued to explore up the stairs to see a portrait of a young male with red hair looking like madam red’s kid if they survived. Not to say he’s not handsome but he just looked…stiff. I shrugged it off and continued my exploration of the second floor. They’re were tons of guest rooms,like give it 6 or 7, and a master bedroom which was the only room which had a smell of roses. Nothing much happened other than that. 

Wing 2 Savanaclaw 

90’s

Now this place looks wild. Definitely a more familiar rich and famous 90’s look. Velvet couches with tiger stripes. There were some African- like vases and some expensive looking furniture. Yet it looks comfortable. Crowly said out of all the wings this Savanaclaw has the biggest garden. I might check that out some other time. There weren't many guest rooms upstairs, only 2 guest rooms. But there was a gym and a main master bedroom. The kitchen was pretty big but not as huge as Heartslabyul. Maybe most of the budget is used for outdoor recreational purposes.or remodel for convenience. There wasn't much here so I left.

Wing 3 Octavinelle

Roaring 20’s

This place has a large swimming pool and a terrarium garden. Though crowley did mentioned this i haven’t seen any swimming pools outside only the dome garden in the backyard. I can look later. I enter inside only to be amazed by the amount of aquariums and the minimum lighting which creates a almost enchanting atmosphere. Downstairs was a meeting room which looks more like a second living room. There was also a ketchen which was more well lit and has seashell handles for the cabinets which is adorable. Upstairs there was an office, 3 master, and 3 guest rooms. What got my attention was a locked room downstairs. Crowly said all the rooms of the wings are unlocked for me to explore as much as I wish. Perhaps there’s a skeleton key somewhere. I’ll look later. 

Wing 4 Scarabia

90’s+1920’s Mix

What in the middle east. I know he said this was the most expensive wing but i didn’t think everything inside was practically made from gold. Not to say everything was but it’s just expensive looking almost like i shouldn't step in here. But i can’t deny this is the most inviting. There were velvet  couches in some rooms and  floor pillows in lounge rooms. accessories were more middle eastern and had some sort of high end jewelry. The ketches was more casual then others. More mellow and chill. There is an upstairs which had a music room and a treasury which was just left wide open…. Weird.. I looked inside just to be blinded by mountains and mountains of gold gems and a one random carpet. This could pay my rent for years. I closed the treasury and locked it tight so no one could steal it. Which reminds me to install cameras.

Wing 5 Pomefiore

Roaring 20’s

This is the only place which I knew part of the history too. Which also surprised me on how cheap the whole property was. This houses famous actor Vil Schoenheit who passed away from unknown means which includes his assistant Rook hunt and his protege Epel Felmier. Owning the property of who was once the most beautiful person in the world would be a dream come true for most of his fans. The wing was surely beautiful with royal purples. What stood out to me was the golden peacock throne in the middle of the lounge. There was a ballroom as well as a garden. Welp upstairs I go. This place has 3 masters and 2 guest as. One of the masters had a large vanity which had lines of skin care and make-up with a crown carefully placed in the middle.Ya this is definitely his.

Wing 6 Ignihyde

Steampunk

Dark and gloomy with technology everywhere, almost. Yet this place seems secure almost. The dim lighting make the place hard to see but i can tell there’s a tone of blue tents. There were skulls with gears on the walls. Kitchen was just as dark and apparently there was some laboratory in the attic. Which probably explains why there was a large dome on top of the wing. There was only 2 masters and no guest rooms. There was nothing in the first bedroom but in the second was there was a old realistic looking robot. On some broken charging station. Nope nope. I watched too many haunted doll movies. Last wing i go.

Wing 7 Diasomnia.

Medieval

Crowly said this was the oldest and largest wing on the property and he doesn't disappoint. This is like a mini castle which is not even lit by electricity like the others. Even the Heartslbyul was more well lit then this. I turned on my phone flashlight and began to look for matches. The lounge was huge which also had a throne which looked ominous to say the least. I began making my way to the kitchen to look for a match. I looked though the old black wooden covers to find old knifes and dishes yet no match. Then i heard rustling. I looked up to see bats. The whole ceiling is covered in black bats. Are those fruit bats. Ya i gotta get those removed. It’s unsafe for them to be here. I walked out and continued my search for matches. There were three floors to look at vs the usual 2 floors so i have a lot of ground to cover. Across from the kitchen though the lounge was a dining room the largest one i’ve seen. The creepy part was the fact there was a singular lit candle. You know what i give up on that match i have 2 more floors to explore so I gotta go. The second floor had a bunch of different quotrers, assuming for servants and guards. I’m assuming these are the guest rooms now days. On the top floor there was a library a large one 3 more guest rooms and one master room. The master room was pretty spacious yet this feels off. I ignored it. Besides, I’m not staying here. So i left. 

Main house Ramshackle 

present

When I arrived at the main house it was already like 9pm so I must have missed Crowley and the moving crew. I wonder what I need to re-arrange. The main house had 2 floors max with 7 guest rooms and 1 master which is my room. I did a survey and made sure everything is how I wanted. Dining room, office,ballroom, kitchen which is filled with groceries, lounge, and my room. Everything is in order so i should be fine. So i should get something to eat.

I managed to cook some (Favorite food) since I was craving it. There was no point in eating in the dining room so I ate in my room and watched TV, using my PS4 to watch YouTube. Mid video I heard a knocking sound. I paused my vid and headed downstairs with my empty plate. Silence. Then another set of knocking. I put my plate away and peaked through the eye hole. There’s no one there. Confused, I just left to go to bed. I wonder who was behind the door. 

#twisted wonderland #yandere twst x reader #twisted wonderland au #haunted #twist x reader #twsited wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland haunted au #ghost au