#why is foolish so handsome

[thepenguisalive7]

That guy is never beating the attack dog allegations clip

#qsmp #qsmp fanart #Quackity #quackity fanart #Foolishgamers #foolish gamers #foolish fanart #tinakitten fanart #tinakitten #badboyhalo #why is foolish so handsome #I had trouble capturing how handsome he is #Irl #like #he’s just a goofy guy in Minecraft #But In real life #he has a really nice haircut

[lovedaruma]

their spot ♥︎

sukuna x princess! reader

ー in which you and sukuna meet when he unintentionally saves you and you continue to meet him everyday in the same spot.

fem! reader, heian era, grumpy x sunshine, reader is innocent and playful, fluff + short smut

"Your Highness! Please don't go too far!" you hear your personal maid shout from the distance as you continue to run, laughing and waving her goodbye.

Any other princess wouldn't be allowed to go into the wilderness on her own, but as for Y/N, her family could not care less if she went missing the next morning.

You have already wandered through so many paths, yet there was still more to explore. You take a new route and stumble on an open area, seeing a hill in the distance and couldn't help but gawk at the beautiful area.

You cheerfully run towards the hill, taking a few breaths once you reached the top. From this height, you could see the beautiful view of the ocean, together with the breathtaking sunset. "Oh my..."

The sun continued to set as you watched from underneath the tree, sitting in a comfortable position. The comforting sounds of nature soon make you drift of to sleep.

A growl from the distance awakes you from your slumber. You jolt awake to see that the moon was already up in the sky. "Gosh, how many hours have passed?"

The sound of your voice summons another growl and you start to get nervous. You turn around and look down at the hill and see a big wolf that was twice your size, bright red eyes trying to scare you. However, you were too distracted at the sight of the furry animal.

"Oh my, It's a wolfy! Come boy, come!" you wave your hand, beckoning the wolf to come closer. It hesitates but slowly starts to approach you. "Here boy... I'm nice, I swear!"

The wolf is now in front of you sniffing your leg, you bring your hand to his neck and started scratching. "Aren't you a cutie~ I'm gonna name you-"

Your words were cut off as you watch the wolf get sliced in half, the blood splattering on your kimono.

"Tch."

A voice was heard from behind the wolf, you see a handsome man with four arms and eyes, marks which seemed like tattoos all over his body.

"Hey~ Why did you kill the wolfy?" you whined.

"Shut up, Human. What are you doing here?"

". . ."

He furrows his brows and growls, "Answer."

"But you said shut up." you smile playfully, clearly teasing him.

"You... Do you know who you're talking to?" He slowly approaches you.

He was trying to intimidate you with this slow steps but was shocked to see you stand up and walk over to him instead.

"Well, No! You haven't introduced yourself yet. I'm Y/N. What's your name?" you reach out your hand as you introduce yourself.

". . ."

". . ."

You watch as his four eyes stare at you, trying to figure you out. You smile up at him and put your hand down.

"Well you don't have to tell me if you don't want to! I still would like to know why you killed the cute wolf though..." you pout as you look over at the furry body in pieces.

"You foolish woman. That wolf was going to make you its dinner." he glares at you, "And this area here is mine. I slaughter everything and everyone that trespasses."

He raises one of his hands to kill you in one swoop, but stops as you perk up and grab one of his hands in joy.

"Oh, so you saved me?! Thank you, kind stranger." you give his hand a small squeeze to show your appreciation.

He stares at both of your hands together for a few seconds before he smacks your hand away, "Tch, How dare you touch me."

You pout as you rub your wrist, "Oh, my apologies . It was bad manners of me to grab you without asking. I'll do that next time!"

"Hah, next time?" He chuckled pure evil, "There will be no next time. Don't think you're coming out of here alive, human."

"That can't be, I have to repay you! You saved me, after all... Even though I don't have much influence, I'm still a princess!"

"Princess? Stop lying woman. The only child I know of royalty here is a prince."

"Yeah~ That's my brother!" you smile, unbothered that people weren't aware that there was a princess in the first place. "And I have a name, you know."

A few seconds of silence pass, him just staring at you. He scoffs and turns to walk away. "Leave."

You were about to retort back but realized how far in the night it is so you stand up and call out to him, "Hey~ I'll be back here tomorrow okay?"

You laugh as you see him turn his head to scowl at you.

The next day soon arrives and you're back at the same spot on the beautiful hill. You sit down under a tree and bask in the view.

The silence was interrupted by a familiar voice. "You have a death wish, huh?"

"Hey there! Come, sit!" you giggle and pat the spot next to him.

"Tch, this is where I usually sit, woman." He scoffs as he sits down, not showing he was curious at the human interacting with him.

"So... I heard a few guards talking about a certain king of the curses...." you side-eye him, smiling playfully. "Hehe, what even is your name?"

"Ryomen Sukuna. Remember the name of the one who's gonna kill you." He smirks.

"Then why haven't you killed me yet?" you tilt your head.

"I'll have my fun with you for now. You're quite the peculiar human."

"Oh, tell me in advance when you're gonna kill me then, Sukuna!"

"You..." he glares, "Do you not value your life?"

"Meh, not really... No one would miss me anyway." I frown, but a smile quickly replaces it, "So I've decided to just live to the fullest. If I die today, at least I had fun yesterday~"

Sukuna stays silent as he watches you cheerfully talk about death with his brows furrowed. You hum a tune while enjoying the comfortable silence for a few minutes and then turn to look at him.

Your lips part when you continue to stare at him, his features complimenting his handsome face. Sukuna, for some reason, found it hard not to look back at your stare. After a while, he turned his head to look back into your eyes.

You flinch as his eyes look into yours. Your cheeks tint at his intimidating state and you give him a shy smile.

"So... um... what's... your favorite color...?"

Silence fills the air at the random question, and your cheeks tint even more. You let out a small laugh at your own embarrassment.

Sukuna takes a peek at the warm flush of your cheeks and lets out a huff, "Red."

You whip your head to him and flash a bright smile, "That really suits you! Mine is white hehe~"

". . ."

"So... what do you like to ea-"

"Shut up."

You zip your lips shut and sit more comfortably next to him. The silence was so oddly comforting that you drifted off to sleep. Your head slowly leaning to to direction Sukuna was sitting.

His shoulder was too high for your small figure, so your head rested on the side of his arm. Sukuna looked down, careful not to move his arm. "Tch, unbelievable."

Although he looked annoyed, he didn't move his arm for the rest of his time there.

You wake up and your eyes slowly open. The sun in the horizon has just set and the moon is starting to peak into the sky. Your head lifts up from an... arm?

"Wha..." you let out a yawn.

You hear a scoff, "Why did you sleep for so long?"

"S-Sukuna?!"

You put the pieces together and realize that Sukuna let you sleep on his arm until you woke up. The thought of that making your cheeks warm.

"Sukuna... that's so sweet of you!" you show a downturned smile to express how grateful you were.

He scowls at you and in a blink, he disappears.

"He didn't even let me say bye..."

You arrive at the same spot under the tree on the hill. Surprisingly, you see Sukuna already there.

"You're here!~"

He opens two eyes to see your figure running towards him. He sighs and shuts his eyes again, slowly getting used to his human's presence.

You stop right in front of him, admiring his face once more, being less embarrassed now that his eyes were shut. Soon, you give into your temptation.

"Sukuna..."

He opens an eye.

"Can I touch you now? I asked first this time!" you clasp your hands and interwine your fingers to say please.

He scoffs and shuts the eye. You frown letting out a small 'Hmp' of sulk.

"I didn't say no."

You gasp in excitement and reach out your hands to his face. Your fingertips gently touch his face. You didn't notice the subtle flinch Sukuna did.

Your fingers trace the marks on his face. He exhales from his nose, the air hitting your skin making you feel warm inside. You slowly lift your thumbs to caress the area next to his bottom eyes, the rest of your fingers at the back of his ear. You couldn't help but hum a small 'woah~' in admiration.

"Your eyes are beautiful." Flustered at your own words, your cheeks tint in embarrassment.

His eyes open, both of you staring into each other. He glares at you and whips his head to the side, your hands still on his face. "How absurd."

"It's true..." You let out a chuckle and kneel down next to him. This time, you trace the marks on his arms.

What you didn't notice earlier was how Sukuna's cheeks warmed up at your compliment, with the same grumpy face. He shook his head and sighed, focusing on the feeling of your skin on his.

The rest of the day you just held onto his hand tracing lines and giving light massages while bringing up small conversation topics. He gave small answers, but you were overjoyed at your interactions.

Two weeks have gone by since then. As the days continued, Sukuna began to warm up more to you, talking to you in longer sentences and not telling you to shut up anymore. You were currently on your way to meet him again. Meanwhile, Sukuna was starting to realize his feelings for you.

"Princess Y/N, Please! Finish your food before you go!" The maid sighs as she watches you run away. She looks over at the unfinished plate, wondering what in the wilderness is so interesting to her highness.

As she takes a closer look in the plate, she gasps. "Oh my heavens! T-This is... The Princess is allergic to this!"

Without a care in the world, you skip towards Sukuna's spot, excited to meet your king of the curses.

"I'm here!"

Insted of sitting in his usual spot, he was standing near the cliff, looking at the horizon.

"Sukuna! you admiring the view?"

He doesn't reply and you look at his back, confused. The dark clouds in the sky let out a thunder.

"How dare you."

"W-What?"

He turns around and scowls, "How dare you make me feel- Ugh."

"Huh?" you say confused, raindrops start dropping on both of you.

In a flash, he disappears from where he was standing and was now in front of you. His hand swiftly attacks for your neck but he quickly stops and is an inch away from your skin.

You flinch, but don't move. you give him a chuckle.

"Sukuna... I told you in advance to tell me first before you kill me." you laugh.

He growls in frustration and puts his hands down. "Ugh..."

"But... As strange as it may seem, the time I spent with you was the happiest I've ever been. Thank you for showing me kindness, even in your own way. Farewell, Sukuna. I will never forget you!"

You stand on your tip toes and met your lips with his. It was just a gentle peck, but it sent shivers down her spine.

"Idiot."

As you pull away, content, you couldn't bring yourself to look him in the eyes. 'I wonder what face he's making right now', the thought making you smile. You grab the same hands that tried to attack you earlier and wrapped them around your neck.

"Huh?" you look up at him confused, only to be more confused as you analyzed his face.

'He looks... troubled? I'm not so sure'

He pulls his hands away from your neck and sighs. He grabs you arms and rests his head on the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. "What kind of sick curse is this..."

". . . Sukuna?"

Although he wasn't exactly hugging you, you wrap your arms around him and hug back. The rain hitting the both of you as you warm up in each other's arms.

". . . I'm confused, are you still killing me or not?"

". . . Pft."

You gawk as you hear Sukuna let out a chuckle. Seeing his lips turn up was a better view than the horizon behind them.

You look up at him and smile, "Hehe, you still haven't answered m-"

The moment was interrupted when you cough out blood. A sudden burning sensation you feel in your chest. You let go of him to hold your chest in pain, your body slouching as you groan.

"D-Damn...I-I shouldn't have-ugh... ate those."

"Y/N?!"

The sound of his name flow out of his voice made your heart flutter but the pain overpowers that.

"Agh-" You drop to the floor, "Don't w-worry, these are just allergies."

He gets on his knees and uses his reverse cursed technique to heal you from your suffering. The pain was too much for you to handle though, and you pass out in his arms.

You jolt awake in your room, looking around confused.

"Sukuna?"

You call out for him but nothing happens. His scent still lingering in the room so you're sure he tucked you back into bed.

You smile as your heart flutters, going back to sleep.

"Y-Your Highness! Are you sure you're okay?" your maid stutters as she hands you your breakfast the next morning.

"Yes yes~ Don't worry about lil' old me!"

You quickly finish your breakfast, wanting to see him as soon as possible. You quickly run and you arrive at the spot in no time and you see him there.

You don't even call out to him, you just run towards his sitting figure, bend over, and wrap your arms around his neck.

He jolts in surprise but immediately calms down as he takes a whiff of your hair.

"Sukuna, you saved me twice already. Thank you for yesterday." you smile, embarrassed to make eye contact with him.

He places a hand on your back to push your body into his. Now, you're straddling his lap and you stay in position.

You fidget your hands, "Ugh~ It's kinda awkward now after I did a whole farewell speech yesterday..." you whine as you recall the events yesterday.

"Yeah, you're farewell kiss too."

You blush and groan into his shoulder, clenching your fists in his robe in embarrassment.

"Hah, is the princess embarrassed? Look at me."

As if it was a spell, you comply immediately and shyly pull away to look at him.

He grabs your chin and pulls your face closer.

"You have to take responsibility for what you did yesterday." He smirks.

"R-Responsibility?!" you squeak.

"Don't think I'll be satisfied with a mere kiss, Princess."

He smashes his lips onto yours. Unlike the sweet and short peck, this was hot and passionate. His upper arms land on your waist and slides the up and down the side of your body.

You feel his tongue enter your mouth and you shift your hips to adjust your position, making you grind on his crotch. The friction making you both groan in pleasure, all of his blood rushing to the length under his robe.

"S-Sukuna." you couldn't help but whine his name in the middle of your tongues dancing. Hearing his name turns him on even more, and his hands go from your hips to sliding inside your kimono to grab hold of your breasts.

You let out a moan at his touch on your bare chest. His bottom arms sliding up your kimono underneath you, his hands traveling up to grope both cheeks of your ass. Wanting to touch him, your hands go down to his chest, sliding inside his robe to touch explore your hands around his bare chest and abs. Your touch making Sukuna groan and start grinding his hips underneath yours, you moan in his lips and grind on him as well.

His hands slide off your kimono, leaving you in your undergarments. The cool air hitting your skin, but you couldn't feel it from the heat of the intimate moment. His bottom hands start to tug on your panties and he whispers into your lips.

"You think you can handle me, Princess?"

You moan in confirmation, sliding off the top part of his robe and continuing to grind on him. He hisses in pleasure and rips off your panties and throw them to the side.

"Ah!" you squeak in embarrassment, pulling away and looking down at yourself, but what caught your eye is the visible bulge twitching underneath the fabric of his robe. You curiously grope it, causing a moan to slip off his mouth, and snatches your hand away.

"Later."

He grabs both of your wrists and pushes you to the clean grass. He looks up and down your naked body and smirks, feeling another twitch from his cock. His eyes landed on your pussy, already soaking wet.

His eyes darkens and he grins, ready to devour you. He brings a hand to your folds and run his fingers along the wetness dripping down your thighs. "How can you be this wet already?" he chuckles and inserts a finger inside, his other hands playing with your breasts.

The sensation making you moan in pleasure, the back of your hand covering your mouth in embarrassment. The moans continue when he starts thrusting the finger in a moderate motion. After a few seconds of adjusting, he shoves another finger in.

The sounds of his fingers fucking your wet pussy fill the air. He feels your walls clench and sees your body start to arch. He sees the way you were making a mess already just with his fingers. Your moans get whinier and he loses it.

He grunts and shoves the robe of his body and your eyes widen. You stare at his two cocks twitching in the air, gulping at its huge size. "S-Sukuna..."

"You want to stop?" you whine and shook your head immediately, "That's what I thought. Now come here, princess."

Not giving you enough time to process, he picks you up and puts him in the stradling position you were earlier in, the tip of his cock goes in and he thrusts inside.

"Ngh- Ah~ S-Sukuna." He grunts in reply, feeling your pussy clench in his hard cock.

"Fuck, princess."

The pleasure was nothing you ever felt before. You look down and see his other cock twitching against your stomach. You reach your hand to grab his length which causes his head to roll back in pleasure and let out a deep moan.

You pump his cock, while adjusting to the other cock that was already inside you. "Prince- Agh, Shit." Your hand going faster and faster, the sounds of his groans making your walls clench, making him groan even louder.

He grabs your hand to stop you. "I can't hold it anymore. I'm gonna destroy this tight little pussy, yeah?"

He grabs your hips and starts bouncing you up and down, his cock thrusting inside of you without mercy.

"Ah... Suku- Agh~" You were drowning in pleasure, eyes rolling back as you listen to the sounds of your wetness and both of your skins slapping against each other.

He was thrusting into you mercilessly, your mewls just making his climax come closer. He feels your walls clench uncontrollably and he moans your name.

"Y/N. Fuck- I'm going crazy" he huffs, acting like an animal in heat.

He pushes you back into the soft grass into a new position, bringing your knees to your chest, his cock thrusting into you sloppily. A visible bump in your belly when he thrusts inside. Two hands behind your knees. One hand rubbing your clit. One hand pumping his other cock.

"Agh~ T-There... Sukuna-"

He hits a certain spot causing your body to twitch and making your eyes water up from the pleasure.

Sukuna pounds faster into your pussy, his precum smeared along your soaked walls. You were letting him use your body and it felt so good.

You feel something building up inside of you, and you whine. "Ah- wait! Sukuna~ I- I-" you whine in pleasure as your body arches, your juices spilling into his cock.

"That's right, princess. Let it out." he coos into your ear. "My turn."

You gasp for air as he thrusts again into your sensitive pussy, making your mewl echo into the air. Your juices increase the sound of the wetness as he slaps his skin into yours, the mix of your arousals filling the air.

"Fuck- I should fill you up, huh? Breed my precious princess?"

"Agh- P-Please!~ I-"

He moans as he shoots his load into you and fill up your pussy, having both of your juices mixed up. His other cock also shooting cum onto your stomach. Your body twitches at the feeling of his seed inside you, grabbing both of his arms for support. He sighs in pleasure and pulls out, watching as the juices ooze out of your aching pussy.

"You did so good, Princess." is the last thing you hear before you pass out.

You flutter your eyes open to see a room that wasn't yours. Sukuna lying down next to you in bed. You look down on your clothed body to see you were cleaned up and well taken care of after.

"Sukuna..." you mutter, eyes still droopy "I can't move my legs~"

"Heh, you're gonna get used to it."

"Hm?" You tilt your head.

"You're mine now. This is the consequence of your actions, right? You can't escape now." He smirks as he picks you up and puts you on top of him.

You stare at him in shock then laugh, "Now why would I dare leave my king, he'll get lonely without me~"

You plant a sweet kiss on his lips and pull away to see a smile on his face. His smile making you feel warm inside as your cheeks tint. You giggle and snuggle into his arms and you enjoy each other's warm, and will continue to enjoy each other's presence in the future.

#sukuna #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna fluff #sukuna smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #heian era

[luminnara]

Unheavenly Creatures Part Two | Feyd-Rautha x reader (NSFW)

PART ONE | PART THREE

Summary: in the wake of an arena victory on his name day, Feyd rautha blows off some steam with his darlings.

MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Read this fic on AO3 under the same account name, luminnara!

Warnings: group sex/foursome, exhibitionism, voyeurism, mentions of cannibalism, canon typical violence, it’s Feyd-Rautha it’s not all sunshine and rainbows, bloodplay, biting, marking, possessiveness, the whole shebang

Word count: 4.6k

Note: I have been desperately trying to find any info I can on the harpies, and I have not managed much 🥲 so pls enjoy my headcanons and made up names ily bye

Tags: @austinswhitewolf @aeilani @maneater17 @serrendiipty @belovedbastardremus @the-dark-dreamer25

It was a day of celebration, and the entire palace—no, city—was abuzz. Inside, a feast was nearly finished, a kitchen full of cooks working day and night for a week to prepare the na-Baron’s favorite dishes. Outside, beneath a black sun, the citizens of Giedi Prime sat cheering in the arena, drinking in the sight of their beloved Feyd-Rautha as he gutted the last of the Atreides warriors. Even as you made your way back to the palace, the roar of the crowd was deafening, their penchant for bloodshed seemingly increased tenfold on this special day.

“Come,” one of the women next to you said, her voice a high, breathy hiss.

“Feyd will want us,” the other smiled, her black teeth contrasting dramatically against her near-white skin.

Feyd-Rautha’s darlings had been quick to accept you as one of them. You suspected it was partly because they didn’t dare question him, though you had seen occasional instances of what could be considered mild defiance from them in your short time on Giedi Prime. They, and you, were permitted to act out on occasion, though none of you were foolish enough to do so in a way that would cast an ill light on your beloved na-Baron. And he was your beloved—with each passing day, you grew more and more comfortable with the Harkonnen heir, and more and more certain that he adored you.

“We will feast on Atreides tonight,” Issa sighed.

“Feyd will reward us,” Yarina said, looking down at you with a grin.

You returned it.

As the three of you walked down the hall, moving as a single, predatory unit, Harkonnen and guests alike were quick to move out of the way. You heard the whispers, caught the curious, sometimes shocked stares as you passed. Feyd’s darlings were rarely seen wandering, and as such, even members of the Harkonnen nobility found themselves stunned by the sighting.

You kept pace with the others as you walked, mindful of the carefully curated air they liked to keep about them. They were both exquisite examples of Harkonnen beauty, equally as dangerous as they were lovely, and though you still did not know much about who they had been before Feyd chose them as concubines, you enjoyed their company. It was a good thing, too; now, you spent nearly every moment with them, and when you weren’t with them, it was because you were alone with Feyd-Rautha.

Some nights, he called you to his bed, having his way with you, whispering things in your ear that he would never say during the daylight hours. Things he reserved only for you. At night, Feyd-Rautha could be almost kind, and you came to suspect that he loved his darlings, in his own way; otherwise, why would you all be allowed to touch him, to pleasure him, to feast with him?

You had never expected that you might become a concubine for the heir of one of the Houses. As a child, you had often dreamt of becoming a princess and being swept away through the stars to wed your handsome prince. But you were no noble; your parents bore no titles, and the closest you were ever meant to come to greatness was when you served your former masters. Was it luck that had brought you where you were today, freely roaming the Harkonnen palace while you awaited your beloved Feyd-Rautha? Or had fate played a trick on you, giving you close to what you had always wanted while still refusing you any title or noble birth? Perhaps it was better this way; perhaps you would enjoy your life as a concubine far more than you would if you had been a lady of the court.

Perhaps the universe had known you would one day commit violent acts, and planned a fitting role for you. If you hadn’t killed your father all those years ago, would you even be on Giedi Prime now? Would Feyd-Rautha had cared at all about the handmaiden who had wandered too far? Perhaps he would have killed you, seeing you as expendable. He would have slit your throat, and his uncle the Baron would have pretended he cared enough to apologize to the Lord and Lady you had served. They would have gotten someone new, and you would have been easily and quickly disposed of.

Perhaps Feyd would have fed you to his darlings.

How strange the wheel of fate was.

“What are you thinking about?” Issa asked you, tilting her head as she looked at you curiously. Her voice was always breathy and alien, a dreamlike quality within it. It matched her appearance and yet it didn’t, making her seem even less human than her black teeth and eyes did.

“Yes, you seem so far away,” Yarina agreed, her accent more akin to the na-Baron’s than Issa’s. You had been on Giedi Prime long enough now to recognize differences in accent and dialect, and had begun trying your best to imitate Feyd’s in an attempt to better fit in. You had no idea if it was working or not, but no one had commented on it yet, which you took to be a good sign.

“My House allied with House Harkonnen,” you said as the three of you neared Feyd-Rautha’s chambers.

“Your former House,” Issa corrected, raising a hand to stroke your cheek. “You are Harkonnen now.”

“I do not look Harkonnen.”

“You do.” Yarina pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

This was normal with them, you had come to learn; they touched casually and constantly, always in contact with each other and now you by default.

“There is no doubt my former Mistress, or at least her husband, is visiting for the celebration.” You said.

“Perhaps our lovely Feyd-Rautha will kill them for you,” Yarina offered.

“Perhaps our lovely Feyd-Rautha will allow us to kill them,” Issa grinned.

You did not know if you wanted that to happen.

You followed them through the door and into Feyd’s living quarters, settling on the large bed while you waited for him. You could imagine him stalking through the halls, bright red Atreides blood painting his chest and face as he hurried back to you. He would kill or maim anyone who stood in his way or tried to slow him down. He was always wild after a fight in the arena, and he always came to you hot and hard and ravenous.

You hoped today would be no exception.

“He must hurry,” Issa pouted as she lounged next to you. “I’m growing hungry.”

“He will come,” Yarina sighed. “He would never let us starve.”

You weren’t sure if they were talking about sex, or food, or both, but you always marveled at the way they spoke of Feyd. They knew how dangerous and callous he could be, but to the harpies, that was normal. If he was a lion, then they were the lionesses; just as cunning, just as regal, just as hungry. Whenever you walked alongside them, you learned more of how to be like them. You learned how to keep your head held high in a room of Harkonnen men, confident that none but Feyd-Rautha would dare to touch you lest they lose a limb or their life. You learned how to stomach the violence that the na-Baron enacted so frequently, and even how to anticipate it eagerly. You had changed in your time on Giedi Prime, and you were becoming more and more like your fellow concubines by the minute.

When you finally heard heavy, determined footfalls outside, you perked up. The door opened not a moment later, revealing a bloodied Feyd-Rautha, his chest heaving and his gaze dark as he crossed the room, eyes glued to you. There was no time to be scared before he was upon you, cupping your face in both hands as he kissed you hungrily, greedily, sharply biting at your lip. You gasped involuntarily and he was quick to force his tongue past your teeth, exploring your mouth while a hand moved to squeeze at your breast.

You felt a soft hand press against the back of your neck as one of the other harpies held you, her body supporting you as Feyd-Rautha pushed you down. The other moved onto her knees, undressing him quickly before leaning in to lick blood off the side of his face.

He moved to catch her lips in his and you gasped for air, heart racing as hands pulled at your dress. Craning your neck, you saw that Issa was behind you, her hands now massaging your breasts as she leaned over you.

Feyd easily threw Yarina down next to you, the bed rocking slightly. He paused, panting as he stood and looked down at his three darlings, all still clothed while he was bare. His full lips curled into a smirk, eyes raking over your bodies as he crawled over you once more.

“This must go,” he said simply, taking a fistful of your dress and pulling.

One of the others sucked in an excited breath, quickly taking the torn scraps and tossing them to the floor.

Feyd-Rautha dove for your throat, leaving open-mouthed kisses against the soft flesh as his strong arms caged you in. Someone’s hand slipped between your thighs and you opened your legs obediently, feeling slender fingers stroking you as you were prepared to take the na-Baron.

It wasn’t the first time you had all been together like this. After you had settled in and grown more comfortable with the others, Feyd had permitted them to watch as he bedded you. They had both been fascinated by the small amount of body hair Feyd chose to let you keep, and you had been fascinated by the way no one, not even Feyd-Rautha, had touched you intimately without permission, or at least without being expressly told not to.

This wasn’t the first time you had felt those fingers inside you. When the three of you were alone, the others taught you how to please Feyd-Rautha. They had perfected it to a science, and it reminded you of some of the rumored Bene Gesserit teachings you had heard of; secretive, calculated, confident. Always in control, even when it seemed that they were not. You had been surprised to learn that the na-Baron was vulnerable in front of his concubines, shocked, even, by what you had seen when he took them to bed; for he was not always demanding and petulant, but also subservient. The others knew how to give him what he truly wanted and needed, and that was sometimes the permission to be a different man while behind closed doors.

Today, though, that was not what he wanted nor needed. Today was a day for chaos, for Bacchanalia. Today, Feyd-Rautha’s feral energy was driving him into a frenzy, teeth sinking into whatever he could find as he marked you with his bites over and over.

“Yes,” you gasped as fingers pushed deeper into you. “Oh, yes…”

Feyd tore himself away from your neck to devour another’s lips, his hips grinding against yours as a pair of hands wrapped themselves around his cock and began stroking. The bed was a tangle of limbs and the air was heavy with breathy moans, no one quite sure of where anyone ended and anyone else began.

When you felt the head of his cock prodding at your entrance, you moaned, and it came out almost choked. There, surrounded by so many bodies, you felt hot and slick all over, already sweating before the real work had even begun. Your voice was thick in your throat as you begged for him, pleading with him to please fuck you, please use you…and he obliged, because you were saying exactly the right things to make him drunk with lust.

“Feyd,” you whispered, hands searching for him.

“M’darling,” he groaned as he pressed his face into Issa’s neck, the sound guttural and primal.

“Please,” you whimpered as Yarina ran her hands over your front. Your thighs tensed in an attempt to soothe the needy ache between them, but Feyd-Rautha was in the way, like a solid tower of muscle and flesh that refused to give. “Feyd please!”

He was faring no better than you. His cock ached and wept as it slid over your lips, now wet with your own arousal and throbbing with need as blood pooled in your groin. With each teasing thrust of his hips you grew more desperate, breaths coming in whiny pants as you huffed and begged, chest heaving as your back arched up off of the bed.

As Feyd-Rautha allowed himself to be guided into you, he groaned that deep, heady groan, the one that always had you melting and turning to putty in his hands. You gasped at the feeling of his cock sinking deeper and deeper, slowly, until his skin brushed yours and you swore you could feel him in your womb.

When his hips rocked back you let out a strangled moan, and when he pushed into you once more you made a noise that would be considered filthy back on your home planet. Feyd-Rautha had a tendency to bring those noises out of you, and fill your head with thoughts that some would be disgusted by. As he fucked into you with ever-increasing brutality, though, he reminded you why you were so happy living with him now. Looking up into his dark eyes that watched you while his lips brushed over another woman’s shoulder as she held him, you felt nothing but lust and glee and adoration. Sharing him was easy when you were part of a set like this, and when you were all together as one moving, breathing creature.

His gaze was intense. You knew he loved watching you as he pleasured himself with you. Sex was like war for him, each bedding a conquest, each fuck a battle. You were never his enemy, though; you were his prey.

And you enjoyed being caught.

“Feyd,” the harpy behind you called in her hissing voice.

He tore his lips from Yarina’s flesh, leaning over you as his hips continued thrusting, meeting Issa above you. He attacked her hungrily, hands gripping her roughly as his speed movements grew more erratic. You knew he was becoming more and more frenzied by the sighs and moans, his kisses turning to bites. You watched, enraptured, as he sank his teeth into her shoulder, a bead of dark blood running down her breasts and dripping onto your cheek.

Yarina made an excited sound and dove around Feyd-Rautha, intent on licking it up. Before she could, he released Issa, shoving her aside as he snarled at Yarina, hands coming down on other side of your head as he caged you in once more.

She hissed at him, jealous and hungry, moving instead to suck at the wound the blood had oozed from. The na-Baron huffed a ragged laugh, baring his black and bloody teeth as he grinned at them, then down at you.

“You will have your turn,” he said to them while looking at you. “You will never go hungry.”

You knew he was speaking of both literal and sexual appetites, and that he meant it; there was plenty of blood and plenty of him to go around, and he was incredibly good at balancing his attentions between all three of you. Though his concubines were meant to serve him, at times it seemed as though that was achieved by him serving you—ensuring that all of you were happy, proving that you were well cared for in all ways. When his darlings were happy, Feyd-Rautha was happy. You could almost call it love.

His love was harsh, though; as he gazed down at you, you felt as if you were the only one in the universe, drawn in to those dark eyes, and you obediently turned your head and bared your throat to him. He relished the sight, and the willingness, and the vulnerability. He could kill you so easily like this, with his cock buried inside you and his teeth in your flesh. A part of him longed to spill your blood everywhere; you knew because he had said so before.

But he wouldn’t kill you.

You were his.

And he was shockingly gentle with his things, reverent when it came to their care. His knives, lovingly and proudly displayed on the wall, another hidden in the bed in case of emergency, were always sharpened. His favorites were sharpened by him, because he trusted no one else with them, much they same as how he trusted no one else with you.

As his teeth sank into you, he moaned, relishing the feeling of having you there in his jaws. He could crush you if he really tried, if not with his teeth then with his hands. But as he held you close and swept his tongue over the sore mark he had left, you knew he never would. You were safe with him, as odd as that felt.

“You are so beautiful like this,” he breathed as you gazed up at him.

“You are as well,” you replied, smiling at the admission.

He kissed you, deeply and seriously, not a hint of those teeth. It was pure, in a way, just like his care for you was; not pure in the innocent sense, nor the good sense, but pure in that it was simple and primal. It wasn’t evil. It wasn’t overtly just. It simply was.

Then, he nipped at your lower lip, sharply enough to draw blood, and he sucked at it greedily. You felt a tingle in your core, something uncoiling within you. When you brought your legs up and hooked your heels around him, he pushed into you even further, as if he wanted to force himself inside your very skin. When he dropped his head next to yours, you knew he was close—and when he bit into you again, you shrieked, and you knew you were close as well.

“Fuck,” he growled against you. “Move.”

You immediately unlatched your ankles and he pulled out, painting your front in his seed. Marking you as his once more.

He tilted his head as he looked at you. You writhed beneath him, hips bucking as you searched for him, so close to your own end and yet now feeling devoid and empty.

“Shh, pet,” he cooed, reaching between your legs. “I will care for you.”

You were nearly in tears as you watched him, far beyond the ability to speak coherently as he toyed with your swollen clit. His mouth moved to your inner thigh and he bit, drawing blood, leaving a trail of marks. The sounds that left your throat were desperate and wanton, echoing off the high ceiling of his chambers as Feyd-Rautha made quick work of you. Your pleasure was agony and beauty, and as he dragged you down over the edge, your voice felt hoarse from your cries and moans.

Anyone passing by in the corridor would hear.

You did not care.

You would never be ashamed of the sounds you made when Feyd-Rautha pleasured you, and as he bent down to swipe his tongue over you and lap at your wetness, you felt a smug sense of achievement. There was the na-Baron, on his knees, tending to his low-birth, off-planet concubine.

He pressed a kiss to the deepest bite mark. “Exquisite.”

Then, you were gently moved aside, and he began anew with one of the others. Though he was selfish, your pleasure was his, and he worked through the three of you however he pleased, always ensuring you were sated. You watched in fascination as he made them writhe, and when he allowed his own skin to be broken, you sucked at the wound, tasting the strange Harkonnen blood on your tongue and appreciating the fact that you were probably the only person from your home planet to have ever been given the chance.

How strange, the things you appreciated now.

-0-

“Something troubles you tonight,” a rough voice commented.

You turned your head to look at its owner. “Why do you say that?”

“You aren’t in bed with the others.” Feyd-Rautha approached you, coming to stand behind you.

He was right; you had initially found sleep to come easily after a long day of celebrations and feasting, your aching body in desperate need of rest. But after some time you had awoken, and it was impossible to close your eyes again. So you had dressed yourself in a black robe and slipped away, escaping to the balcony window down the corridor.

“My apologies,” you mumbled, looking down at the railing.

His chest brushed your back as his hands gripped your elbows. “You shouldn’t be out alone.”

“I know, but—“

“I was worried.”

His admission made you pause. When you glanced up at him, you saw that he was serious, jaw tense as he looked down at you.

“You were?” You asked, staring at him with wide, black eyes.

“I was.” His voice was stern. “It is not safe.”

“I’ve wandered these halls before,” you said, a hint of amusement in your tone. “Even before I joined you.”

“You were a guest.” He said. “I was your greatest threat then.”

“I wasn’t afraid of you.” You jutted your chin up towards him.

“I know,” he grinned. “When you told how best to spill your guts so as not to ruin the meat, I knew.” Then, he grew serious once more. “I also knew I must have you, and no one else would touch you.”

“No one here would dare.” You said haughtily. “They know better than to play us.”

“That is not what I worry about, my darling.” Feyd-Rautha placed his hands on the railing in front of you, leaning his chin on the top of your head as he looked out over Giedi Prime. “I am the heir to the Harkonnen throne.”

“You’re an important man,” you furrowed your brow. “What of it? Does that not guarantee me protection?”

“You are a target.”

“…na-Baron, I am a concubine, not a bride.” You scoffed. “There would be no reason for any political adversary to—“

“Feyd.” He growled.

“Wh-what?”

“Call. Me. Feyd.”

You gulped. “I-I’m sorry, Feyd.”

“Don’t…” he heaved a sigh, steadying himself. “Don’t apologize, darling.”

He was silent for a moment, and you weren’t sure whether to feel safe or uncomfortable.

“All of Giedi Prime knows how important my darlings are.” He continued. “You are safe when you are with me. But I cannot guarantee that safety when you are alone.”

Feyd-Rautha turned his head, leaning his cheek against you. It was an oddly intimate movement; in fact, the entire situation felt more akin to one that should take place with husband and wife, not murderous na-Baron and concubine.

“I am only a concubine,” you said again, voice small.

He barked a cruel laugh. “Is that what you tell yourself?”

You winced at the harsh sound. “It is the truth.”

“My darlings,” he began, his voice low, anger simmering just below its surface, “are much more to me than simple concubines.” He turned you in his arms, forcing you to lean back against the railing. “Surely you know this…or do you turn your nose up at me?”

You recognized the glint of anger in his eyes and felt panic rising. He couldn’t really think you hated him, could he? “Feyd, no…”

He gritted his teeth as he glared down at you. “The little off-world pet, too good for the likes of the barbarian prince…I know what the Great Houses say about me.”

His hands drifted down to grab at the thin fabric of your robe, grabbing it in bunches as he hiked it up. He paused for a moment and you realized he was listening, for your quickening breaths and heartbeat, and you watched as something in his eyes shifted.

“They call me psychotic.” He nosed at one of the bite marks on your neck. “What do you think, darling? Are they correct?”

“Y-yes, Feyd.” You stammered, both frightened and excited by the game you now realized he was playing.

He made a thoughtful noise as a hand slipped past your robe, fingers finding your swollen, used folds and plunging inside. “What else?”

“Th-they say you are bloodthirsty,” your breath hitched as his thumb brushed your clitoris.

“Am I?”

“Yes, Feyd,” you gasped at the addition of another finger.

A sick smile twisted itself onto his face. “What do they say about me on your home planet, darlin?”

“That you are v-violent,” you steadied yourself with a hand on his bare chest as your thighs trembled. “That you kill without second thought. That you are cruel and crave violence with every breath.”

Some of it you had made up; truly, you had never heard anyone on your planet speak in great length about the na-Baron of Giedi Prime. In fact, most people on most planets probably didn’t even know who he was. But for the sake of his ego, and for the hand between your thighs to continue its work, you exaggerated, and it worked. Despite a long day of fighting and fucking and enjoying spice, Feyd-Rautha was awake, attentive, and ravenous.

“And what does my darling think?” He asked, rubbing your clit as he twisted his fingers inside you.

“I-I think—!” You gasped, eyes wide at the sensation, wetness pooling around his hand, “Feyd—!”

“Answer me,” he purred, amused.

“I think that you are all that and more!” You blurted, tears pricking the edges of your modified eyes.

“Good pet,” he caught your lips in a kiss and focused his efforts on your clitoris, allowing and encouraging you to reach your peak on his hand.

And you did, of course you did. You always finished with Feyd, oftentimes before him. As your orgasm overtook you, he breathed you in, devouring you in his adoration.

As you came down, he leaned back, pulling his hand away and watching your flushed face as he licked the taste of you off of his fingers.

“Delicious,” he rumbled, looking at you with a hunger in his eyes.

Then, he placed his hands on your shaky hips and turned you, and before you had even caught your breath, his cock was inside you for the second time that day. He squeezed your breast as he fucked you, pressing kisses along your spine that seemed far too gentle for the na-Baron, and again, you marveled at the way he treated his darlings.

“Do you see now?” He panted in your ear. “Do you see your importance? Only my darlings do this to me.”

Only his darlings made him so feral and so tame at the same time, because while he bit and tore and raged with you, he refused to truly break his favorite things.

“And you take me so well,” he growled, spending himself inside of you with a grunt.

Feyd leaned against you, pressing a kiss to your temple. You felt comfortable there, within the safety of his body. Nothing could harm you when you were with him; you were one of his darlings, and now, you were certain that he adored you.

“Come,” he said, pulling himself out of you and straightening up.

“Bed?” You asked as he easily swept you into his arms, carrying you back to his chambers.

“A bath,” he decided. “Then bed, with the others.”

And you smiled as he held you, so secure against his chest. Feyd-Rautha was everything you had said and more—he was a lover, as well, in his own way.

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha #dune #dune x reader #unheavenly creatures

[determinedbyvibe]

tag drop 1/?

#tag drop #s. mainverse — shoot for the moon. even if you miss‚ you’ll land among the stars #d. mainverse — its never too late to be a rockstar #d. open starter — the beginning is the most important part of the work #s. open starter — let new adventures begin #s. social media — sancrusades #d. social media — domdominates #determinedbyvibe #s. character study — the power of getting to know one another is eclipsed only by first getting to know oneself #s. visage — everyone sees what you appear to be‚ but few experience what you really are #d. likes — to know another is not to know the person's face‚ but to know the person's heart #d. character study — personality is to a man what perfume is to a flower #s. likes — the audience likes their emotions to be touched‚ they want to laugh & cry & feel good #d. visage — handsome is as handsome does #edits — stay hungry‚ stay foolish #ooc — hey! thanks for checking in. i’m still a piece of garbage #asks — you have a question & i have an answer #memes — go long #plot ideas — we exist in more worlds than one so why not explore them #saved — for a rainy day #tumblr help — the shit show that keeps getting worse #resources & help — a little help goes a long way #musings — written on the heart in big bold letters #art — colour outside the lines & inside my heart #desires — where id is there shall ego be #aesthetic — beauty is how you feel inside & it reflects in your eyes #drabbles — a writer is working when he’s staring out of the window #psa — ayo! is this thing on?

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni

word count: 4k

summary: after finding him wounded in an empty alleyway, against your better judgment, you decide to patch him up in your apartment. you expect that to be the end of it, never to see him again, that is, until you do.

warnings: piv, rough sex, dirty talking, biting, claws make a brief appearance, mild degradation (he calls you slut once), mention of female masturbation

You live in a world without heroes. Yet, the villains roam free. 

You’re used to it by now, walking through the damp alleyways. You hear a shout here and there, always keeping your head bowed as you walk past whatever might be going on. Once upon a time, this bothered you. But after a knife to your stomach and a punch to the cheek, you learned to look the other way around, no matter how painful it might be. Sometimes you find yourself wondering why this might be. You always assumed some type of ying yang situation should be in place, making everything right, but you seem to be living in a world without good. Without light.  

You don’t know what prompts you to do it. You’re walking back from work, the scent of rain and the stench of exhaust thick in the air. All you want to do is get to your cramped apartment before the downpour. 

You think it’s the wind that makes you turn your head, you hate when your eyes water and dry out. When you do turn, you stare into the familiar abyss of the alleyway behind your apartment. It’s truly pitch black. Despite the darkness, you see a faint movement in shadows, a loud sound, a crash. You see a flash of red, blue. Your eyes narrow—what the? 

You know well that you shouldn’t, that whatever was lurking in the shadows would be bad news, but you do it anyway. With a grunt, you open the flashlight of your phone and take a step closer. There’s a man laying on the cold ground, he doesn’t seem to be moving. 

“Hello?” you call out. No answer. “Um, are you drunk or high? Should I call an ambulance?” 

The broad figure groans and your heart nearly lurches. “No,” he mumbles. “No doctors.” 

With a slight tremor in your step, you come closer. You shine the light into his face, his brows furrow, an annoyed scowl etching into his handsome features. Your lips part with a soft exhale. He’s so handsome. 

Then you get a good look at the rest of him—what the hell is he wearing? 

“Do you need help?” you ask, unsure. He doesn’t seem to be bleeding, his eye looks a bit swollen though. Wait, scratch that, you think you spot some blood on his lips. “Should I get you anything?” 

Maybe you sound foolish, but you know better than to just call 911 for a random person. Everyone is a criminal these days. Fuck, if he was a criminal you should call the cops, this city is seriously starting to cloud your better judgment. 

“No cops,” he chokes and coughs, as if he can read your thoughts. “Go away, I’ll be fine.” 

No, he won’t. 

He knows it. You know it. 

“I live right next door,” you answer against your better judgment. “I have a first aid kit. I can patch you up if you want? I don’t wanna brag, but I am a nurse in training.” 

He makes a sound that is similar to a chuckle but the sound quickly fades into a vicious cough. You tuck the phone into your pocket and lean over, “Alright big guy, you’re coming with me,” you attempt to throw his arm over your shoulder but that proves to be more difficult. “Can you stand? Even a little.”

He nods and straightens up a bit. You’re still carrying most of his weight but you manage to get him past the door and onto your couch. 

You must’ve thrown him a little too hard because he lets out a loud grunt, teeth sinking into his bottom lip to stifle the sound. 

“Sorry,” you mutter. “Just wait for me here, I’ll come back with water and the first aid kit.” 

The man makes another sound. You’re starting to think this is his only form of communication. 

When you come back, he’s still where you left him. Albeit looking a bit more alert now, eyes constantly scanning your humble apartment. You can’t really blame him though, you would do the same thing. You eye him warily, then place the glass of water on the coffee table. He glares at it like it’s poison. 

“I’m not going to hurt you.” 

He scoffs, “I don’t think you could even if you tried,” he answers, tongue moving over his bloody bottom lip. He points at the table. “And there’s a coaster right there.” 

“Who are you, my mother?” 

Despite your sharp tone, you place the glass on the coaster and sit on the coffee table, the small first aid kit in hand. “Does that thing have a zipper, or. . . ?” 

His right brow and lip cock up simultaneously. You’re acutely aware that no matter what you do, you’ll never be able to understand what’s going on in that head of his—Not that you want to. He’s a stranger. A man that looks strong enough to hold you by the neck before you can reach the pepper spray nestled in your bag. 

The silence makes you uneasy, and when you finally open your mouth to speak, he leans forward. “Don’t freak out,” he grunts. 

“Why would I freak out—” The rest of the sentence dies in your throat, his suit glitches—glitches—like a damn video game. It blinks once, twice and you swear you can see little particles glimmering on his skin, fading away from reality. Panic flaring in your gut, you look down. 

Pants still on. And here your thought that the entire thing was a one-piece suit. 

“I said don’t freak out,” he repeats, eyebrow raised and head tilted to the side. You snap your mouth shut. 

“I’m not freaking out,” you say, voice shrill. “Who’s freaking out? Not me.” 

His shoulders are broad, arms muscular with thick veins meandering down. You’ve never been a fan of veins popping out but whoever this man was made it look good. You swallow over and over in a weak attempt to wet the inside of your mouth. You fail helplessly. You’re not even aware that you’re holding the first aid kit with an iron grip, knuckles aching from the pressure. His torso is completely bare now.

“I don’t have a zipper,” he says unhelpfully, unaware of you behaving straight out of a 1950s cartoon. 

“I can see that.” 

God, he is the weirdest stray you ever brought over. 

He points at the box, “So do you actually know how to use what’s inside or were you just bluffing when you said you were a nurse?” 

“A nurse in training,” you quip. “And no, I wasn’t bluffing.” 

With great strength, you finally drag your eyes down his torso. There’s a splatter of blood, some of the drops rubbed into his skin and the crimson trail is followed up by a giant slash across his stomach. The bleeding had stopped which was a good sign. You lean closer, your fingers fiddling with the box at the same time, narrowing your gaze you notice the wound is deeper than you had initially thought. 

“Whoever it was that attacked you got you good,” you murmur. Without a second thought, you slide off the coffee table and kneel in front of him, you miss the glint in his eyes as he looks down, miss the way he spreads his legs so you can fit better. 

“How do you know it wasn’t me who attacked them?” 

The rough tone of his voice prompts you to look up. For someone who’s been stabbed, he’s eerily calm. His arms are spread over the backrest, chest slowly rising up and down as his eyes flit across your face, searching. The muscle in his jaw twitches, lips stretching into something resembling a snarl. Suddenly you’re hyper-aware of where you are, the position you’re in. The sound of danger rings in your ears—you don’t even know this man’s name. Your breath catches in your throat, stomach jumping. You don’t know why you initially felt so comfortable with him, as if you were long-lost friends, but you aren’t. You were being reckless. 

“Scared?” he asks, venomous, hunching over your frame, caging you in. Heat radiates from his thighs, a stark contrast to the cold fear gripping your insides. He hooks two fingers under your chin, lifts your head up. Your bottom lip quivers. “You should be. You live in a dangerous world.”

“And you don’t?” you counter, your voice barely above a whisper, your words hanging in the air, challenging his assertion. The question slips out before you can fully comprehend its weight, and you see his jaw tighten as he ponders for an answer.

You meticulously cleanse the wound, removing dirt and debris with steady hands. The sting of antiseptic fills the air, intermingling with the charged atmosphere. You’re not shy with the way you touch him, a simmering annoyance warming your gut. He can take it, you think applying further pressure. He doesn’t make a sound. 

The dim light of the room accentuates the harsh contours of his face, and his piercing gaze feels like it's cutting through your soul. You drag your teth against the smooth surface of the inside of your cheek. You’ve never had a patient stand this still. 

Finally, just as you complete the final wrap of the bandage, he gives you an answer. 

“Not the same one as you do.”

Miguel O’hara was his name. He told you just before disappearing into the neon lights of the dark and cold city. You didn’t think much of it, you were sure you wouldn’t be seeing him again, which meant remembering his name was useless.

But your mind wouldn’t let him go. You tasted his name in the dark hours of the night, hand between your legs, coming as you thought of scenarios where instead of dousing his wound in antiseptic, you took his cock into his mouth, helping him in a different way. His suit left little to the imagination and now that your imagination roamed free, you’re glad that it was. 

Convinced that he’ll never show up again, you continue on normally, half in fear due to the chaos around you, trying to do your best. 

That was until he did show up. 

You step out of the shower, water trickling down your skin, softened by the warm steam. The towel hangs loosely around your chest, on the verge of slipping off. You never quite mastered the art of securing it tightly, but living alone means you don't have to worry about walking around naked if it happens to fall off.

The window cracks open, cold air seeping through, chilling your freshly warmed body. Tension instantly builds in your body, your eyes slowly moving to the window. You see him then. Miguel. He pushes the window open and climbs in, not saying a word. You hold the towel tightly around you—a dream, you think, it has to be. 

With quick, large steps, he crowds your space, forcing your back against the wall. The air is knocked from your lungs, your throat convulsing with a sudden panic. He’s not touching you. 

“M-Miguel,” you whisper. “I didn’t—I didn’t think I would see you again.” 

“Neither did I,” he answers, large hands cupping your waist and pinning you to the wall. “I’m tired,” he adds, words dropping from his lips more like a punch than a plea. Like someone is squeezing the words out of him. 

“What do you need?” 

His eyes drop to your lips, a hungry gaze that sends shivers up your spine. You hold your breath. He’s so close, close enough that you feel his breath on your damp skin. He tilts his head to the side, eyes closing. 

“I need to not think,” he answers painfully slow, tasting every word. “I need to not feel. I need to not worry. I need to disappear for a while.” 

Miguel takes a long, languid breath. Filling his lungs with the scent of your watermelon body wash. His tongue pokes from between his lips, moving over the bottom one. “Can you give me that?” 

His fingers tighten, the soft fabric of your towel bunching in his palm, you swear you feel the bite of nails despite the fluffy exterior. Your eyes search his. You know nothing of him. Only his name that he’d begrudgingly given you. Your pulse quickens, the rush of blood loud in your ears. He’s not here for you, that’s something you need to keep in mind before going any further. He’s here for the release, for the simple act of having another’s warmth surrounding him. You’re an escape. Something simple and easy he doesn’t have to think about when he runs off to deal with whatever he deals with. 

After seconds that feel like hours, you decide you want to give that to him. You don’t mind the hurt you’ll feel after. Letting him take what he wants knowing that’ll affect you more than him. Something about him makes you not care. 

“I can,” you breathe, instinctively searching for his lips with your own. “Do your worst Miguel O’hara.” 

You drop the towel, damp fabric pooling at your ankles. His eyes widen briefly before smiling something wicked. His forehead touches yours, nose brushing your own as his lips ghost an inch away. Your breath catches in your throat, the need growing between your legs. A chuckle drops from his lips reminding you of gravel. You don’t share his humor, you just want to feel him. 

“You don’t want my worst,” he grunts. “You’ll break.” 

“I won’t.” 

He scoffs but doesn’t argue. Miguel doesn’t attempt to probe you wrong, breaking things is meant to have consequences. You either try to fix it or ponder over what you’ve done, he wants none of that. Instead, he presses flush against you, body firm in contrast with the soft swell of your chest and stomach. Your nipples tighten. He crashes into you, tongue hungrily slipping between your lips as his mouth moves greedily.  You feel hands on your chest, kneading, squeezing, pinching. You moan into his mouth, he swallows the sounds, grinding himself hard into you. You’re shaking, his body suffocating. 

“If I touch you,” he says into your mouth, fingers skimming the outside of your thighs. “Will you be soaked for me?”  With a whimper, you nod. He grins, canines looking sharper compared to what they did before, “Such a good little slut,” he growls. 

Contrary to what he’d said, he doesn’t slip his fingers between your legs to see if you’re telling the truth. Instead, he slots his thick thigh between your bare legs, pushing the muscle up until you’re left gasping, your hands flailing as you wrap them around his broad shoulders. The pressure makes you dizzy, the fabric of his suit softer than what you expected, a delicious friction over your aching clit. You moan openly into his neck, teeth scraping against the vein. 

“I’m going to fuck you like this,” he murmurs. “Up against the wall,” his suit fades away, cock hard against the soft planes of your stomach. You shudder as precome smears over the skin. He continues, licking your lips. “Then up against the window, want you to be loud. Want you to scream and tell me to take. . .” 

The emphasis on the “t” sends a million tiny needles biting into your skin. Your chest heaves with the brush of his lips, you want to feel it again, the plush feeling of faux softness on your mouth. But he doesn’t give you that. He smiles a cruel smile, one that chills your skin but lights a fire in the pit of your stomach. He tilts his head. 

“And take. . .” 

You chase his lips, he refuses to give you what you want. 

“And take. . .” 

Your frustration grows, a desperate sound twists through you, and your fingers curl around his neck, knitting through his hair as you give the curls a warning tug. He doesn’t seem to be affected in the slightest. He drags his lips down your neck, hitches your one thigh up his hip, and positions his length against you. He doesn’t look at you, nor say another word. He fills you with one hard thrust, knocking you back against the wall, your body sliding up the rough interior. The stretch of him lingers on the line of being painful. There’s a bite to it, but also a deep pleasure that makes your legs shake. 

“So fucking wet,” he rasps, sinking his teeth into your neck. It feels sharp enough that you think he breaks the skin, blood filling his mouth, but that’s not the case. The feeling quickly passes when his mouth crashes into yours in a messy kiss. He doesn’t wait for you to adjust, he doesn’t care. He takes what you give him and he does so violently, splitting you into two with every thrust. 

He grabs handfuls of your hips, lifting you off the wall before slamming you back down with renewed fervor. He angles each thrust to the point of almost pain. You cry out, a long, desperate noise that almost drowns out his own, panting gruffly. You can feel the heat in your veins coursing through you as pleasure builds, the almost unbearable sensation sending you into overload. Your toes curl, your nails dig into his skin as his name leaves your lips in a plea for him to not stop. His hands grip you tighter as his movements become more violent, eyes locked together as they both reach the brink of ecstasy. 

The look in his eyes, the furrow of his brows, the parting of his lips, the damp curls at the base of his scalp—it does something indescribable to you. You arch your back to give more for him. All your focus narrowing on the feeling of him. 

Suddenly your body strains as he stills, the thunderous rumbling of your orgasm hitting you full force as you feel yourself tighten around his shaft in an attempt to prolong the blissful pleasure. His grip slackens and you fall forward against him, boneless as you feel the last throes of your orgasm lingering in your veins. You lick the salt off his skin, your body grinding sloppily against him. 

“Fuck,” he hisses between gritted teeth, still achingly hard inside of you. “Already?” 

“I—I never came that quick before. . .” you answer with a slight slur of speech, you’re tingling all over. 

You’re not sure but you think you see a hint of pride in those dark smug eyes, “Don’t think you’re off the hook,” he says. “You’re mine until the sun comes up.” 

Miguel is a man of his word. 

He fucks you up against the window, just like he said. Your breasts pressed up against the cold smooth surface as he takes you from behind. It burns. It burns yet you can only beg for more. You scream his name, fog up the window, the rough drag of his cock forcing the roll of your eyes every goddamn time. The feeling of being stretched wide never passes, each thrust like the first time. 

He holds you by the nape, pushes you forward, the pressure only adding to the fire. You figure out soon he likes holding you like that. He enjoys shoving you up against things, adding to the idea that you’re just a fleeting moment and nothing more. When he pulls out you instinctively search for him with your hips. His cock lays heavy over the curve of your ass, he spreads you and presses his cock between the globes, rocking until thick ropes of come land on your back. You shudder, breathless, your vocabulary reduced to only his name. 

You feel a grip on your chin and he turns you enough so that he can slot his lips against yours. Your neck aches but your part for him anyway, allowing the taste of him to flood all your senses. When he parts only a string of saliva connects you, your breathing coming  in heavy pants. 

A second later the world around you blurs and you quickly find yourself straddling him above the bed. The old furniture creaking in protest. You forget how nervous you would be if it were someone else, how self-conscience you would be riding a man but Miguel doesn’t give you a chance to think about it. His feet planted firmly on the bedding, he snaps his hips, burying himself deep into the tight fist of your cunt, over and over, until you’re stupid for him. 

His name rips from your throat, you can’t even think of saying anything else. You attempt to muffle yourself with the back of your hand but he’s quick to yank it back down. 

“No” he utters a low, guttural sound, hands coming up your back. “I said I wanted you to scream.” 

He sounds unhinged, like something snapped inside of him. You feel teeth on your collarbone, nails dragging down your back, sharp, leaving long lines of irritated skin. A pleasurable pain blossoming over your skin. 

You begin to unravel as you thrust your hips against him, his movements setting off white-hot sparks of pleasure like incandescent lightning. Moans rush from your lips as his name is repeated in a mantra and you cling to him desperately, your hands clawing at his back and your nails digging into his skin as you spiral ever faster into oblivion.

Miguel is relentless in the way he drives into you. You can feel him swell inside you, every thrust pushing you closer and closer to the edge. He moves his hands to your hips, pushing and grinding against you as every muscle in his body strains. 

His breathing is quick and harsh against your ear, his voice a hungry growl, “That’s it, take it. You were waiting for this, weren’t you? Hungry for a cock no matter who it belongs to.”  

You can’t answer. 

Miguel’s hips thrust harder, faster—his orgasm crashes through him, his hands gripping your hips painfully as he spills his hot seed deep within you. You find yourself trembling as aftershocks of pleasure ripple through you, your body feeling like electricity as you come down from the high. You clench tightly around him, your own overwhelming orgasm ripping through you, overstimulation making you cry out. 

He spins you both, bringing you to lay underneath him. Miguel collapses against you, breathing heavy as his grip on you slowly relaxes. He holds you for a moment, your heart thrumming as his forehead briefly rests against yours, breaths mingling. Then, with a satisfied groan, he pulls away. You let out a hiss. It feels achingly empty. 

You’re surprised when he starts pushing your legs apart, watching his spend trickling down your folds and making a mess on the sheets. He pushes globs of cum back into you with thick fingers. Your head falls, back arching into his touch. “You made such a mess,” he says, sounding almost transfixed. Cramming fingers inside of you and curling them, your body seizes. 

After that, you’re not sure when he leaves. Sleep takes you and when you wake, he’s gone. No note, no message left behind. The only evidence that he was here is the ache between your legs, and the taces of him still lingering on your thighs. 

You’re sure you won’t be seeing him again. He got what he came for. 

The next night he’s back, climbing through the window for more. 

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x f!reader #miguel o'hara x female reader #across the spiderverse fic #across the spiderverse fanfiction #oscar isaac characters #oscar isaac character fanfiction #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you

[writingficsanddaydreams]

Little Paintings

Mihawk x gn!reader

Summary: surely the extremely observant and powerful warlord of the sea won’t notice your little paintings all over his castle…

Content: pure fluff, with just a hint of romance. reader is written as autistic.

A/N: I recently watched a TikTok where somebody was painting cute little designs all around their house until their spouse noticed. It made me think of this idea. Like all my stories, Mihawk is based on a mix of his live action personality and the little bit I know from watching some of the anime and reading the manga quite literally years ago. Enjoy!

—————————

You like painting. Always have, always will.

However, you’re not sure if the fearsome Dracule Mihawk will appreciate it so much as you, not when you’re painting inside his crystal ware cabinet. Especially not when you didn’t bother to get his permission. 

Not that you’ll stop.

If anything, it makes you determined to work quicker, nudging more of the delicate wine glasses aside to you can lean in and finish the adding paint strokes to the fine wood, creating a minuscule image of a little bottle in the back corner of the cabinet.

Is it silly for a fully grown adult to be doing this? Perhaps. Yet you can’t help but smile as you add the final touch to the tiny little label on the bottle, a small swirl of purple paint to match the label of the wine he shared with you yesterday.  

Perfect.

When you extract yourself and carefully push the wine glasses back in place, the painting is completely hidden. You have just enough time to hustle back through the chilly castle halls and tuck your paints in your room before he returns inside from his sword practice.

He gives you quite the long look when you settle in the kitchen later that day, those piercing yellow eyes seeming to cut through your surface and see so deep. And though you feel your breath catch—as it often does around this formidable man—you force yourself to smile innocently.

“Yes?” you ask.

“I will be sailing out for supplies this afternoon,” he says after a long moment.

You nod and draw your knees to your chin. “Do you need me along?”

“No need for that.”

You sigh with relief, watching as he turns back to his cooking. You don’t dislike people, but you do prefer your solitude. You always have, ever since you were a child. It’s why you feel content to stay here now.

That, and how utterly delightful it is to watch him cook.

He’s terribly handsome when cooking, though you’re fairly sure the man would look handsome doing anything. His knife seem to blur as he cuts up the vegetables, then begins to prep the meat. When he reaches for the pans, his cross necklace shifting against his finely cut chest, your heart skips a beat.

Yet he simply grabs a pan and gets to work, seeming to not notice the tiny cross shaped sword painted just behind where the pots hang.

Really, it’s foolish of you to do this. Yes, art has always been a passion for you, but you are a guest here. A guest he has allowed to stay for some months, and a guest who has shared just enough casual, accidental touches that you hope it might become something more, but still a guest.

Still, you’re curious. Just how much can you paint before the great swordsman notices?

You’ve been at it for a week now, ever since you found the dusty little bottles of paint tucked away in a forgotten storeroom. You use every moment he’s out to sneak little paintings around the castle, none bigger than your thumb.

There’s the little map against the doorframe of your room, like the treasure map you were following before you stumbled on this island.

Then there’s the small ape painted onto one table leg in the dining hall, a far less fearsome version of the beasts that chased away your captain and crew when you all landed here. You recall how frustrated you were that they left you behind, a frustration that has long since faded now that you can count on the safety of Dracule Mihawk’s castle.

He walks past you now, a hand brushing briefly against your arm before he continues on to grab the spices across the kitchen.

Not an accident, surely. Nothing this man does is accidental.

That makes you think of the minuscule wanted poster you painted in the corner of your doorframe yesterday, in honor of the fear you first felt when you realized just who inhabited this place. Funny how frightened you were that first day. And the second day.

…and the third.

By the forth, however, you had figured out he likely wasn’t going to kill you.

By the fifth you’d determined that so long as you didn’t irritate him, he didn’t seem inclined to make you leave either. In fact, as days went on, you became fairly certain he didn’t mind your company.

Which is why you now play this foolish game of sneakily painting designs all around his castle.

You always considered yourself clever. Yet apparently all it takes are a few “accidental” touches and heavy looks for you to throw all your caution to the wind. Teasing a warlord, vandalizing his castle… such a perfect plan for long term survival.

Still, you do truly enjoy painting.

Your favorite are the flowers you painted along a small crack in the stones of the great hall, colored with a yellow that makes you think of his stunning eyes, the eyes that have over the last few months shifted from disinterest and disdain to… something else.

Something that makes you hope perhaps you won’t always be just a guest.

You’re not brave enough to make any moves yourself—never really have been when it comes to matters of the heart—but that won’t stop you from seeing just where these lingering glances and soft touches might eventually go.

Those same eyes stare at you again now as you make your way to the dining hall and pick at your food, separating the small bits of tomato from the rest of your meal. You bite back a smile as his gaze cuts down to your plate and he takes note of the rejected vegetable. Knowing him, he won’t use it in your meals again.

You honestly don’t know how a man so observant has not noticed your paintings yet.

“Do you need anything from the village?” Mihawk asks, startling you from your thoughts.

“I’m alright, I think,” you say. Given the nearest village is several islands away, you take a moment to think about it truly, but everything you need has been provided for you already. If anything, you’re far more comfortable here than you ever were with the crew you sailed alongside, a crew that only cared about you for your rough mapmaking skills—your least favorite thing to paint if you’re being honest—and were quick to abandon you when the first hint of danger appeared. 

He nods and turns to his own plate. You try not to stare at the wall behind him, where you‘ve recently painted a tiny little figure sitting in a tiny little chair wearing a tiny black wide brimmed hat, hidden just at the base of the dining hall floorboards.

Trying not to giggle about it keeps you distracted through most of lunch.

“I’ll be off then,” Mihawk says as you both finish your meals, rising from the table.

“Be safe.”

Ah yes, because you need to tell the strongest swordsman in the world to be safe. You mentally kick yourself, but feel better when he offers you one of his rare almost smiles, even as he pauses by your chair.

“Don’t worry yourself,” he says, that confidence that you’ve come to admire woven through every inch of his words. “I highly doubt there will be anyone to challenge me. Truly a shame. Oh, as a note…”

“Yes?”

Your breathe hitches as he reaches out, gently taking your hand and lifting it towards him. You’re hyper aware of how strong his grip is. So powerful, yet intentionally gentle. Of how piercing his gaze is, those eyes that are so hard to meet, even as they set your heart racing. He lifts your hand to his lips and presses a slow, deliberate kiss against it.

Oh.

When he lowers your hand, he’s… smiling. Not just that almost smirk, but a real smile. Your heart lurches again at the sight. When he speaks, it takes you a long moment to process his words around the pounding of your heart.

“The entry hall could use a few more flowers, perhaps, if you must paint all over the walls.”

Then he’s off, leaving you stunned where you sit. Your draw your hand close to yourself, staring at the skin he kissed.

You hadn’t noticed it until now, but on the back of your hand is just the slightest smudge of dried purple paint from earlier.

As you run a finger along the paint, you find yourself hesitating. Then before you know it, you’ve risen from your chair and are hurrying to follow, to catch Mihawk before he leaves the castle.

Perhaps you need some supplies after all.

More paints. New brushes. A proper tray for mixing your colors… and maybe even a true kiss from the warlord you’ve fallen for.

#mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #mihawk #one piece mihawk #one piece

[stuckysbike]

Moonlight Kisses

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Angst, unrequited?feelings. Fluff.

Summary: You’ve fallen in love, but he wants someone else, and it’s you he’s asking for advice!

It was a cold December Friday night when you realised you were in love with Bucky Barnes.

Natasha had ushered you out of your solitude and over to her private apartment on the compound. Steve was already there, along with Sam, Joaquin, Yelana, a few from the medical team and a few mechanics.

The place was decorated for winter, with playful snowmen and fuzzy christmas trees stacked in the corners. Everyone got comfortable on the big couch and music played in the background whilst you snacked on festive foods and sipped seasonal alcoholic drinks.

Bucky had been telling a story, his face lit up and his big hands flying everywhere as he described his mom chasing him with a broom during his teenage years after a stray snowball missed its target and landed on her. Occasionally his eyes met yours and they sparkled with mischief, but you figured he was like that with everyone.

You’d been crushing on him since you arrived in January and he was first to greet you. He seemed fascinated by your job, research and data analyst, but it was ultimately boring to almost everyone but you.

You lunched together sometimes and you swapped books every few weeks. You even got him into podcasts and you were always swapping recommendations.

But tonight he looked happy, relaxed even, and when Natasha dropped her dainty feet into his lap you felt the world skip underneath you, you wanted to put your feet in his lap. You wanted his big hands dwarfing your feet.

He rubbed her toes without thinking, and she snuggled down as the mechanics started describing the prank they’d played on Tony this week, going so far as to rope Pepper in. Bucky was listening intently, laughing along with them but his hands never stopped moving. It was obvious they were intimate with each other from the tiny looks and touched they shared.

You couldn’t understand why your heart suddenly ached, and then it hit you like a train. You were jealous, more than jealous, the revelation of their relationship hurt.

“Wanna stay here tonight?” You heard Natasha murmur to Bucky during a lull in conversation. Yelana was changing the music and Joaquin was setting up tequila shots.

He smiled at her but shook his head. “Nah,” his voice was thick with tiredness.

“You finally made a move on that girl?” She teased wiggling in her spot.

Bucky’s cheeks tinged pink and you dropped your eyes when you realised you were staring. You didn’t want to be caught looking like some dumb kid. You studied your hands but your head was swimming with this sudden realisation.

It was foolish to think that Bucky with his wonderful abilities and handsome looks would be interested in you who spent most of your time at work or alone. Bucky had been to hell and back, he deserved someone gorgeous who could distract him from reality

“Think I’m gonna’ take her out, yeah,” he nodded. You snuck a glance at him in time to catch him looking from you to Natasha.

Oh god, he must have noticed you staring. How embarrassing!

Tears that had no right to form in your eyes were there anyway and you stood suddenly distracting Steve who was kneeling at the coffee table next to you. Sam took the opportunity to defeat him in their thumb war game much to Steve’s annoyance.

“I’m going to head back, I’m just really tired,” you said to the room, avoiding Bucky and trying to look above Natasha’s head. “Thank you for the invitation Natasha.”

There were a few comments asking you to stay but ultimately everyone wished you a good sleep. Your own room was a fifteen minute walk away in a shared block and you pulled your arms around yourself to fight the cold as you stepped outside. You wished you brought more than a hoodie to keep you warm.

You looked up into the sky and focused on the moon and sucked a deep breath of cold air deep into your lungs. It grounded you so you did it again.

“Hey Doll,” Bucky called startling you. You hadn’t noticed him leaving behind you but he was closer than you expected.

“Bucky, hi,” you frowned.

“Thought I’d walk you back,” he said falling into step with you. “And I wanted your advice.”

“Oh?”

“So there’s this girl I like. She’s not like the others, she’s not really - she’s different. And I really want to make a date special for her, you know?” He glanced as you, letting his arm bump yours as you walked.

“I do,” you sighed resigning yourself to your fate. You didn’t want to have this conversation but you didn’t want to not help him either. He was your friend after all and despite your feelings you would be there for him no matter what.

“So I’ve had a few first date ideas, but I’m thinking farmers market then making brunch together? I started this really great podcast and I was thinking we could listen together as we cook then talk about it while we eat? Then after we could go to a museum or something?” Bucky licked his lips and stopped turning to look at you.

You didn’t want him to share a podcast with her. That was your thing with him. You knew you were being unfair, childish even but right now you didn’t care. His deep blue eyes searched your face. He looked so vulnerable in that moment.

“That sounds lovely,” you said. And it did, you wished you were that girl, you wished Bucky wanted to go to all that trouble for you but instead you’d have to sit home alone tomorrow whilst he woo’d someone else. You hoped it would be a long time before you were forced to meet her.

“Yeah?” He asked excitedly. “I really just wanna’ hold her hand, at the market, in the museum, I just crave that feeling you know, like this,” Bucky reached for your hand and laced your fingers together, holding your joined hands up to inspect. “It’s been a long time since I held a girls hand like this.”

“I-I’m sure it has Buck,” you swallowed. His hand dwarfed yours and his heat easily crept onto your skin. His thumb caressed your knuckles and your breath hitched but Bucky didn’t seem to notice.

He resumed walking and you could do nothing but join him, he still had your hand in his. He described his outfit for his date and wondered if you had a cosy chunky sweater.

“I do, it’s so comfortable,” you said softly. You couldn’t hide the disappointment as you slowed in front of the doors. “It’s my favourite colour too.”

“Will you wear it tomorrow?” Bucky tilted his head to the side.

“Why does it matter what I wear?” You couldn’t help but giggle at his odd request. You couldn’t do it though, thinking of him with someone else whilst you wore what he asked you to.

“I want to know that you’re warm tomorrow. You know, on our date?” Bucky pressed his cool left hand on your cheek as he turned to face you. His kiss was soft, just a sweet brush of the lips and then he pulled away. “I’ll see you at nine thirty?”

“Uh huh,” you nodded dumbly. He kissed you again, and you caught the faint taste of whiskey on his lips. He was warm as he pressed into you and you let your hands slide up his chest to his shoulders.

“See you tomorrow baby girl,” he pressed one last kiss to your forehead then opened the building door for you.

You walked inside in a daze, waving goodbye and drifting up the stairs like you weighed nothing.

You couldn’t remember getting changed into your pj’s, all you knew was that you were snuggled under your duvet setting an alarm for your date with Bucky in the morning.

You smiled, and suddenly your legs kicked and you let out a little squeal. You were going out with Bucky Barnes and he kissed you three times.

You feel asleep to the memory of one hot hand and one cold hand cupping your cheeks as he kissed you in the moonlight.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes

[luveline]

Maybe colt comforting reader when things for her film aren’t going right 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Colt comes to your rescue (clumsily) when you have a hard day. fem!reader, 1k words

Very minor plot spoilers for The Fall Guy (2024) if any

“I think he’s mad at you.” 

You pause where you’d been scrubbing your eyes with your hands, though you don’t look at him. Colt Seavers seems to follow you everywhere you go, and consequently plays witness to your many breakdowns. “Thanks, Colt. That’s astute.” 

“Are you mad at me? Why are you mad at me? It’s been ten seconds,” he complains. He has a unique talent for sounding flirty and needy at once. 

“No, Colt. I’m tired, it’s been a long day.” 

Colt is grinning when you meet his eyes. He has blood, fake or real undetermined, drying in the scruff of his facial hair. You gesture to yourself in a slow circle in the approximate area, to which Colt smiles again. 

“You look perfect,” he says confidently. 

“You have blood in your beard.” 

“Oh, right.” 

You sigh heavily, taking the few paces back to a stack of safety mattresses for a quick break. You’ll get up and help whoever needs helping as soon as you can feel your toes. Colt stays where he is, squinting against the sun, strands of blonde ends kissing his tan forehead. The summer shoots are good for him, he always looks so beachy. You’re exhausted all the time. 

As he notices. “Are you getting enough sleep?” he asks. 

“Yeah.” 

“‘Cos I was sleeping badly and then I got this new mattress that has four hybrid layers, there’s a foam layer, and then there’s titanium springs,” —he sees your distant expression and his own flickers— “anyways, you could try it if you want. Test it out with me. Or– Not with me. With me if you want. We’d have fun. But not with me if you don’t want to.” 

You’d laugh if you had the energy. “Do you wanna sit down?” you ask. 

“God, yes, please.” 

He has another talent for being insanely handsome no matter the day. You look like you’ve been badly rewarmed before serving, where he looks like he rolled out of bed with a smile. He’s smiling at you now, the foolish kind that’ll fluster you if you let him do it for too long. “Stop,” you say quietly. 

“You’re doing amazing.” 

“Thank you. You’re the only person who thinks so, unfortunately.” 

You smile at him weakly. Worried you look pathetic, you turn your face to your lap and clasp your fingers together. 

“That’s not true. Mayview is old-fashioned, that’s all, he was around when they were still killing horses on TV.” 

You grimace. “Yikes.”

“But it’s the modern era. He doesn’t get to make you feel like shit, or I’ll make him feel like shit.” He pretends to charge a sucker punch. 

You lean forward a touch, not quite hugging your knees but tempted to fold in on yourself nonetheless, the heat of the sun a memory on your neck as the evening begins and cloud cover floods in. 

The safety mattresses beneath you squeak and shush against each other. Your weight and Colt’s slides together slowly. He might be pushing himself a little with his boot, but you pretend not to notice as his hand comes to rest between your shoulders. 

“I just can’t do anything right,” you mumble. 

As soon as you’ve said it you’re hoping he can’t hear you, but he does. He might have injured pretty much anything that can be fractured, sprained, or just plain broken, but he has stellar hearing. “You do everything right. You do!” he says, quietly and passionately at once, “They don’t realise it, but you’re the glue keeping this whole thing together.” 

“What are you?” you ask, bemused.

His hand is warm on your shoulder, unafraid where he hesitates to answer, “I don’t know. The test dummy? The guy who gets set on fire a lot?” 

“How is that?” 

“Warm,” he says, beaming, his face so unexpectedly close that you can see the glucose shining in the blood on his cheek. Fake blood. “You wanna try it? I’m sure I could convince the guys.” 

“No, I’m okay.” 

His voice turns silky. “Good, I wasn’t gonna let you anyway.” 

“Let me?” 

“You could get hurt.”

You give in, melted maybe by his warm tones, or exhausted by a day of playing mom for a director who can barely tell his left from his right. Your face presses to his shoulder and your spine sags under his hand, prompting Colt to pull you flush against his side. He always waits for your signals for stuff like this, no matter how desperate he might confess to being. “Can you make them all leave me alone?” you mumble into his jacket, the fabric rough against your nose. 

“Obviously I can, but… We could run away.” 

“Where would we go?” 

“I don’t know. Somewhere sunny. You can rub sunblock on my back, I can hold the umbrella over your head while you read.” 

“They have stands for that sort of stuff. Or you can shove it in the sand, you know.”

“I wanna do something nice for you,” he interrupts, the sound of a smile in his voice as he gives you a friendly jostle. “That’s the point.” 

“You’re plenty nice, Colt.” 

And he is. He saw you were upset and he came jogging upto you valiantly, and your side-armed cuddle is really pushing the pep back into your life. You take a few deep breaths under the weight of his arm before turning to him, brave, ready to go back to work if it means he’s gonna drive you home tonight. “Thank you for caring.” You kiss his cheek, careful of the fake blood. “You’re super nice.” 

You miss the heat of him the second you stand, but there really is work to do. 

“I’m super nice?” he calls. “How nice is super? Nice enough to get another one of those, or what? Are they by the metre?” 

You bite back a smile. 

“Hello? Can you hear me?” He must catch someone’s eye. “She can’t hear me. It’s cool. We like each other.” 

Nobody saves face quite like Colt. 

#colt seavers #colt seavers x reader #colt seavers x fem!reader #colt seavers x y/n #colt seavers x you #colt seavers fic #colt seavers fluff #the fall guy #the fall guy x reader #the fall guy fanfiction #the fall guy 2024 #the fall guy fic #colt seavers blurb #colt seavers drabble #colt seavers imagine #colt seavers fanfic #colt seavers fanfiction #colt seavers scenario #colt seavers oneshot #The fall guy spoilers

[ystrike1]

Ashe: the coveted maid - By Yoo Rang Baam (9/10)

This is a lovely yandere fairy tale. The art is fairly generic in some panels. It is short. If the art consistently matched the cover page it would be an instant classic. Two lost, unwanted young lovers take over a corrupt mansion. They're damaged, and devoted. There's mutual love and happiness galore, after the true heir dies a gruesome death.

Ashe is a pretty dummy. She's been sold to a certain family. The heir, Lance, is a giant perv. He uses his maids as his personal harem. Ashe is just another body.

Lance is handsome. Perfect. Most of his maids are noble women who are actively trying to marry him. His blue blood protects him from any and all consequences. Ashe fears him. She humiliates herself for him, but it's never enough.

Ashe is skittish and uneducated because her mother disliked her. Her sister was even prettier than her. Her sister married a wealthy man. She secured a huge dowry for her mother. Her mother put a huge amount of pressure on her. Told Ashe she somehow had to bring home more bacon than her super lucky Goddess of a sister.

She, of course, collapsed under the pressure. Her mother eventually sold her to Lance to make a buck.

Ashe eventually meets Tristan, the bastard son. He's sort of like her. Everybody treats him like a ghost. He must live in a secret basement. He is the son of a maid. Nobody really knows why he's still alive. Lance could have killed him, but Lance is evil.

He likes to taunt his brother, and leave him in squalor.

Eventually, Ashe and Tristan become lovers.

Lance hates his competition. He's the type of heir that knows he isn't that impressive deep down. All he has is his family name and money. He scarred Tristan to make him a monster. A tainted thing. He knows he's not that smart, so he calls Tristan a fake. He abuses his brother to make himself more powerful.

Tristan changes when he watches Lance abuse Ashe. He decides to let it all go. He cannot win. He wants to be happy. He tells Ashe he will run away with her, after he scrouges up some money.

He's free of the stupid chains Lance wrapped around him.

Her honest love saves him from life as an abused doll.

Lance falls down a cliff.

Now, I don't think this is a coincidence. The author specifically mentions that Lance abuses noble ladies. No doubt an angry father paid off his coachman and well...now he's even more horribly mangled than Tristan.

The house turns on Lance.

They lock Lance in the secret room, bloody and angry.

Ashe has no idea what's happening, but the house needs a leader. Tristan has been given the chance to take over.

He plans to marry Ashe (she was sold, but her mother is a noble)

Ashe runs to the secret room. Tristan used to see her almost every day. When he doesn’t visit for a week she panics.

When she checks his bed she finds Lance.

He stabs her eye out.

He has gone mad.

Why?

Well, everybody abandoned him as soon as he became disabled. He has no friends to speak of and his only good feature was his looks. One sign of weakness was it. He was deemed unfit and left to rot.

He stabs Ashe because she truly cares about Tristan, even though he has nothing to his name but kindness.

Tristan fetches his foolish love.

She tries to run.

She tells him she is ruined.

He laughs and says he will destroy anyone who dares to mention her disfigured face. She belongs by his side, proud and happy.

When they have their blowout wedding he wears lace over his scar from Lance. She wears lace too, to cover the missing eye Lance took from her.

They live happily despite his cruelty.

He definitely died off screen on Tristan's order, after he stabbed Ashe.

A tradition becomes the norm in the mansion. Every staff member and every guest must wear lace on their face. No one will ever see or comment on Ashe's face, or Tristan's. They are above reproach, and the lace masks represent them moving on. Forgetting about those who abused them.

Also, of course, it is a warning.

Any comments about the disfigured Lord or Lady will not be tolerated.

Beware.

It's not easy to anger the Lord of the house, but if you do you will lose.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #Ashe: the coveted maid

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

DRABBLE: THEY’RE YOUR BLIND V-DAY DATE ❤️🍷💕 (CROSSOVER ANIME) (18+) (For Black!Fem!Readers)

Writer’s Note: Got another something for V-Day for y’all. I decided to do one for multiple anime characters cuz I’m a slut for all them 2D characters & couldn’t decide on one specific show lol. Plus it sounded fun! And important disclaimers I’ll just make a note of before the actual Drabble. I hope y’all enjoy! ☺️🥰 -Jazz

********

LEVI ACKERMAN (AOT)

The first night, you’re nervous, to say the least, especially when Hange warns you about his appearance. 

“Why?” you had asked over margaritas and tacos, already perplexed and slightly unnerved by her warning. “Is he really ugly or something?” 

Hange, sitting across from you in her glasses with her locks of long, chestnut brown hair cascading down her shoulders, shook her head. “No, no, my dear!” she immediately protested. “He’s actually quite handsome despite the broody thing. But he does have some scars from a mission gone wrong at his job and he’s blind in one eye.”

She took a sip of her margarita as if to soften the next blow. “And he’s missing a leg,” she finished. 

You were taken aback, to say the least, but you didn’t let that stop you. You aren’t prejudiced and you refused to let that stop you from at least giving Hange’s friend a chance.

Apparently, Levi has been a firefighter for a couple of years and has recently broken up with a longtime girlfriend, so Hange figured he could get back into the dating pool and realize that there are great girls out there starting with you! 

So the weekend of Valentine’s Day, Hange texts you the name of the restaurant and you take an Uber there after spending the entire day doing your hair, picking out an outfit, and giving yourself a makeover. You decided on a soft glam look as this is the first time you’re meeting the guy and a pretty, red dress that hugs your frame and zips in the back. 

When you get out of the Uber in front of the quaint and low-key yet romantic restaurant, you take a table near the door so it’ll be easier to see Levi walk in and flag him down. You still have no idea what he looks like, only that he’ll be wearing a black trench coat, he’s kinda short, and he has a large scar going over his eye.

“His team calls him Scar, apparently,” Hange laughed. “It helps that he has a smooth, deep voice too!” 

You admit that you were curious to see him and hear that “smooth, deep” voice she told you about. So you sit and order a glass of wine, waiting for his arrival as you stare out at the passing cars and people…only he never comes.

You wait and you wait and you wait, but he never shows his face. You call Hange, thinking maybe you have the wrong restaurant or time or day, but all is correct. You think that maybe he’s in traffic or something came up, but Hange never calls to tell you either. 

When your appetizer comes and the candle sitting in the middle of the table begins to melt, you feel your heart sink to the pit of your stomach. You’ve been stood up.

The realization hits you like a brick to the face. Quickly, you order the check and a box for your food and pay the waiter before running out of the restaurant in tears. You feel stupid. Wasteful. Foolish in your pretty dress and heels. 

Hange comes over to see you with the quickness when you tell her that night, ice cream and face masks in tow. “I can’t believe him!” she says, enraged, with a sheet mask on her face. “He told me he’d be there and then he doesn’t show up? Who does he think he is? Why, I’m gonna give that man a piece of my–“ 

“Don’t Hange,” you sigh, shoveling another spoonful of ice cream into your mouth. “Just leave it be. He probably just changed his mind or wasn’t ready.”

You are ready to move on and forget it, but the universe doesn’t let you. A week later while at work of all places, you get an unknown call. Thinking it’s one of those scammers, you give a sharp “hello”. 

“Uh…hi,” a smooth, deep, velvety voice replies. “This is Levi, Hange’s friend. This is Y/N, correct?”

You heart drops into your ass and it takes a moment for you to reply. “Uh, y-yeah,” you answer. “Yeah, this is her. You’re Hange’s friend? Did you get my number from her?” 

“I had to,” Levi replies, his voice making your stomach do flips. “I’m sorry if that’s weird, but I just…”

He pauses, sighing. “I had to talk to you,” he finishes, sounding completely beaten. “I’m so sorry for not coming last week. I was so afraid for you to see me because of my appearance. I was so sure you'd find me unattractive and not like what you see. I’m very insecure in that and I let it get the best of me, but that doesn’t mean you deserved that. Hange already went up my ass about it.” 

You softly giggle, knowing she would. "So, if you don’t despise me too much and you’re willing, can we meet up for dinner this Friday night if you’re free?”

He sounds hopeful and slightly afraid. You don’t know why you say yes, but you do and you make plans to meet for ramen on Friday. When the day comes, you wear a more casual outfit–-a pretty cashmere sweater, jeans, and some boots––but still style your hair and makeup to look presentable. ‘Second time’s a charm, I guess,’ you think. 

It’s a dry, cool night so you wait outside the restaurant for Levi to arrive, texting him that you’re there prior to your arrival. Ten minutes into waiting, you think he isn’t going to show and that he duped you again, but then your phone rings. Your heart leaps at the sight of his caller ID and you answer. “Hello?” you answer, noticing how breathless you sound. 

“Look up,” Levi says and you do, seeing him standing before you across the street under a streetlight.

The soft light illuminates his features: a sharp jawline and cheekbones, soft, pale skin, one eye the color of a gray ocean, and the other milky where a long scar runs from his eyebrow to his cheek. He walks towards you slowly with a slight gate in his step, his hand on his left leg where his prosthetic is, and finally makes it over to you. He is extremely attractive and smells like toasted vanilla.

“You’re Y/N, I take it?” he asks, a small smile on his face. 

“And you’re Levi,” you reply, your heart battering against your ribcage.

He gives a slight nod, his one eye roaming over your frame. “My God, you’re stunning,” he chuckles as if he can hardly believe it. “Even more than that the first night. I had come, but I never went into the restaurant. I was so intimidated by the way you looked that I just–“ 

“Stop,” you interrupt, not liking the thought of him standing outside looking into the restaurant window at you, feeling so horrible about his looks.

“That was then and this is now. And you’re wrong, by the way.”

One of Levi’s eyebrows raises in confusion. “I do like what I see,” you say, your voice soft and shy. “For the record, you’re one of the sexiest guys I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” 

The laugh Levi lets out just about fills you with joy and you just about melt before he holds the door for you to enter the restaurant, not so discreetly staring at your ass as he does.

NANAMI KENTO (JJK)

He’s a professor and he’s a blonde is what you’re told by Gojo…but that’s about all he tells you, the asshole. 

“You’re asking me to go on a date with a dude I don’t even know and you won’t even tell me what he looks like?”

You’re sitting with him at brunch with bottomless mimosas when he runs it by you. You get the feeling he just invited you out with the promise of mimosas, good omelettes, and paying just to toss this at you. 

Gojo gives you his big, gigawatt smile as he sits across from you wearing his usual shades. “Trust me, babe! He’s a good and attractive guy! If I wasn’t taken, I’d fuck him myself.” He snorts to himself, shoveling some eggs into his mouth. “But I don’t even think I’m his type.” 

From what you gathered at the start of brunch, Kento Nanami is Gojo’s very stoic, very introverted, very lonely friend who is in need of a date this upcoming Valentine’s Day. Though intelligent and handsome, Nanami isn’t too good with women and hasn’t been in a romantic relationship is quite some time.

“I swear, he’s not an incel,” Gojo swears, one hand on his heart and the other held high. “He loves women! He’s just…awkward.” 

You aren’t sure if you like that answer. “What if I meet him and I don’t like him?” you ask, taking a break from your mimosa. “I mean, I’m only agreeing to this because you said you’d pay me.”

And Gojo did. He figures you’re the perfect girl––smart, pretty, and funny––to bring Nanami out of his shell. “$50,” he sing-songs. “And if you hate his guts, you'll get another $50, I promise. But give him a chance, Y/N! He needs it!” 

To not hear him whine and beg, you roll your eyes and agree. Gojo arranges for you to meet with Nanami at a winter light show in the park that is done every year. It’s the perfect place to meet since it’s romantic and very populated.

You dress in your warmest and cutest coat before hurrying to meet Nanami, your boots crunching in the snow. The park is decorated in twinkling lights that line the trees, walkways, and fountains. 

You’re so enchanted by the lights that you barely see the slick of ice lining the sidewalk. You misstep and your left foot goes skidding. “Oh, shit!” you gasp as you fall, but you don't feel the ground or the cold snow.

You don’t feel anything at all except two warm, strong arms wrapped around you. You look up into the warm eyes of an older man. An older, extremely attractive man with a blonde undercut and wearing a tan wool coat. “Are you alright, miss?” he worriedly asks. His voice is deep yet warm and sweet like honey.

You’re so taken by the stranger that you barely notice that he has set you upright. “Um…yeah,” you answer albeit softly. 

You blink at him, noticing how tall and well-built he is behind his coat. His hands are strong and capable and you find yourself staring at them even when he shoves them into his pocket. “Nanami?” you hesitantly question.

You watch his darker blonde brows furrow in confusion then rise in realization. “You’re Y/N,” he realizes. “Forgive me. Gojo didn’t tell me what you’d look up or what you’d be wearing.” 

You think you see his eyes trailing over you, but you can’t focus on it for too long. “That’s okay,” you laugh. “That’s Gojo, for you. How do you know him?”

Nanami begins to walk with you to the line at the entrance gate to enter the event, keeping the same slow pace as you. “We went to the same high school and remained friends ever since. How did you meet him?” 

“We met through a mutual friend and just clicked,” you explain. “Her name is Shoko.” Recognition crosses Nanami’s face at the name. “Shoko?” he asks, a light flickering in his eyes. “I know her as well. We all went to the same school.” 

“What a coincidence!” you giggle, glad to have something to break the ice (other than your fall). “Thank you again for helping me. I know I’m dumb for wearing these things in the snow.” You nod down at your heeled boots to which Nanami only stares at, never smiling. His expression is unreadable and slightly intimidating. But you can tell it’s just awkwardness. Now you see what Gojo meant. 

But rather than be unnerved by it, you find yourself wanting to break through it. You want to get to the warm core of this man. “Um…should we walk?” you ask, nodding at the entrance gate. Nanami nods but looks slightly worried.

“Will you be alright?” he asks, still staring at your feet. “You may want to hold onto me.” He offers you his arm, a slight tinge of pink to his cheeks that one could pass off for the cold. Your heart leaps at the chance to touch him, even be near him. 

“What a gentleman,” you chuckle. “I didn't think chivalry still existed.” You take his coat sleeve and let him lead you through the entrance into the park’s first trail.

A chuckle that makes your stomach flip and your pussy leap leaves Nanami’s mouth. “I wouldn’t say all of that but thank you. I would just think I’m being a good human being. So Gojo told me about your job. What is that like?” 

The park is truly beautiful, decorated head to toe with lights that twinkle and dance. But you’re not focusing on the lights; just Nanami and his conversation. For such a stoic guy, he can really hold a conversation.

He tells you all about his job as a professor and his students; what subjects he likes; his life outside of work. He asks you about you and all of your habits, hobbies, and joys. He listens intently, putting them all in his brain’s filing cabinet. You find similarities about each other, including favorite books, movies, and your love for the beach. 

The date lasts for an hour and you enjoy every minute of it. You like being around Nanami, enjoying his stale humor and shy smile. More than anything, you like his presence.

You like how soft his wool coat feels under your finger. You like how he keeps his arm at reach, even when you release him at times. You like how he keeps the same pace as you, never walking too fast and always staying at your side, his black leather shoes tapping against the concrete.

You’re feeling him and you want to let him know that when you finally reach the end of the park where the last attraction, an ice sculptor decorated in lights, stands. 

“Wow,” you sigh. “So pretty.” 

Nanami stands next to you as you stare up in awe at the attraction. “Yes,” he agrees, though he isn’t looking at the lights. His attention is solely on you.

He likes the way the lights illuminate your skin which contrasts with his. He likes the brown of your eyes, so warm and tempting like chocolate. He likes your humor and sweet laugh. He likes you and he isn’t too shy to show it. You can see it when you turn and find him already staring at you, bold and heated. 

He is sexy. He is alluring. And you want him. “Nanami?” you shyly ask.

His eyebrows raise, acknowledging your question. You turn to him fully and stare up at him through your lashes. “I don’t usually do this, but…would you want to come home with me?”

He is silent, staring at you wordlessly, and your stomach flips with discomfort. “For coffee, maybe?” you add. 

Nanami doesn’t have to be asked again.

To end such a perfect date, you find yourself on your back with Nanami on top of you, looking so handsome above you as he pounds your pussy into the mattress. His big hands pin your thighs apart and up to his broad shoulders, your painted toes and skin contrasting deliciously with his lighter skin.

“So pretty,” he groans. “You were the prettiest thing there tonight. Fuck, darling, you’re so tight!” 

He thrusts into you harder, faster, making the bed squeak and you lose your voice from how loud you moan. You can feel yourself about to cum after so much foreplay and stimulation (Nanami is a gentle lover).

“Kento,” you whine, digging your nails into his shoulders. “I’m gonna cum! Please…please cum with me!” 

And he does. At the sound of you begging, he bursts inside of you with a ragged groan as you cum all over his big cock, your pussy walls squeezing around him and stroking his shaft.

As you do, his lips find yours, giving you a passionate kiss that could melt the ice with how hot it is. 

NICO ROBIN  (One Piece)

*Note: Reader is plus-sized! 

Nami swore up and down that you needed to go on a date for Valentine’s Day to forget about your short-term “situationship”. 

“Just give a chance, Y/N,” she said to you over ramen. She treated you to lunch at the best ramen place in town while you were on your work break. “It’s just for one night and I can’t stand the thought of my best friend alone on Valentine’s Day! And she’s a great girl, seriously!” 

You looked down at your bowl of ramen, feeling hot under your sweater dress that clung to your plump body. The idea of a blind date didn’t appeal to you much, especially being such a big girl. Usually, when people got a look at you, they either ghosted you after the first date or didn’t give you the time of day. Why did she think this was a good idea?

“Just be careful,” Zoro said, shoveling spicy miso ramen into his mouth. “She’ll charm the pants off of you…or skirt…whatever you’ll be wearing.” Nami smacked him on the the arm hard, making the green-haired hunk hiss in pain. “Don’t listen to him, honey. Robin is just a sweet-talker. You have nothing to worry about!” 

But when you finally get a look at your date, you don’t think that’s true. Nami set the date up at a high-scale bar where the working class and hotshot businessmen come for happy hour.

When you walk in, you immediately feel self-conscious despite looking oh-so yummy in your waistband coat that flares around your waist and pink dress that makes your skin and brown eyes pop. But the dress also sticks to your body, accentuating each curve, ripple, and roll. Though your stomach ripples with nerves, you also feel slightly confident catching eyes under the warm lights above. 

You sit at the sleek bar and order yourself a cocktail to loosen up a bit more while you search for your date at the door. Nami only told you that she’s “tall with long black hair and might be wearing purple”.

You’re curious as to what this girl is like and if she likes what she sees. You sip on your cocktail and scroll through your phone for a couple of minutes, completely unaware of the eyes you have captured from down at the bar. 

When you turn around in your stool to place your glass down, you find another cocktail sitting behind you. Confused, you flag down the bartender. “I didn’t order this,” you tell him, pushing the glass towards him. “It was sent to you,” he explains. “From down at the bar.” You look in that direction, but find no one paying any attention to you. “But I have a date,” you protest. “I can't accept this.” 

“That’s correct,” a sweet yet smooth and sultry voice purrs behind you, “and it’s usually rude to deny a drink from her.” The voice causes your body to react instantly: the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end; your heart pounds in your chest; your stomach flips. You turn and see your blind date standing behind you in the flesh. 

Beautiful isn’t a word to use for Robin. She is absolutely stunning. A straight vixen oozing confidence and poise as she stands behind you in a purple cocktail dress that illuminates her soft, pale skin and blue eyes that steal the air from your lungs.

She is tall and slender with piano fingers painted in a dark rouge that you want to feel wrapped around your body, but has a rack that can stop traffic and is definitely catching eyes. Her long, shiny, black locks of hair cascade down her slender shoulders, catching the light above. You are in awe of her and her beauty as are the others in the bar. 

“Y/N?” she asks in her alluring voice. Wordlessly, you nod and close your mouth to avoid looking like an idiot. “I’m Nico Robin, Nami’s friend. She’s told me so much about you.” She puts a slender hand out to shake yours, giving you a whiff of her luxurious-smelling perfume and a peek of golden Tiffany bracelet. 

You put your hand in hers, feeling warm from her touch. “N-Nice to meet you,” you stutter. “Please, have a seat. Do you want a drink?” Robin raises her brows questionably as she settles onto a stool next to you. You flush under the lights, thanking God that he made you Black. “It’s only right since you ordered me one.” 

Robin smiles, her pearly whites and dimples making you damn near melt. “How sweet of you,” she giggles. She orders herself a dirty Martini with extra olives and thanks you again when it comes. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting. I got caught up in some work.” She slowly crosses her soft, long, milky legs over one another. You do your best not to stare. 

You give her a smile, pretending that you’re not turned the fuck on by her, and lean your elbow against your chin. “So you’re an archaeologist, right? That’s such an interesting job.”

She smiles at the compliment and at the mention of her career as you sip your cocktail. “Well, I’ve always been attracted to history since I was young. I’m attracted to intelligence too, which you seem to have a lot of.” Her smile turns flirty and now you know what Zoro was talking about. You’re already charmed by her. “Tell me: what’s your job like?” she asks. 

Your conversations last for hours and flow perfectly, especially after you get your second drink in you. You tell her about your job and quietly gush over her curiosity and awe, realizing how much she loves learning. You talk about everything, from city life to books to anime, learning that you both love magical girl anime, especially Sailor Moon.

You didn't expect that from Robin because of how poised she is and her love for dark colors, but as soon as you mention Sailor Moon, her eyes widen in excitement. “I love Sailor Moon!” She laughs. “I cosplayed as Sailor Mars two Halloweens ago. I bet you’d look so pretty as a Sailor Scout, especially with the skirt.” 

That’s another thing you learn about Robin: she’s a flirt. She sneaks in little sly compliments to obviously make you flustered…and it’s working. You try to do the same, complimenting her on her outfit and her smile. “I can see why everyone is so fond of you in here,” you say, nodding at the group of businessmen playing pool who are not so discreetly staring at you both from across the room.

Robin giggles, turning back to you with a hooded gaze. “Too bad,” she sighs, not at all sounding disappointed. “I’m here with you.” 

As the night goes on, it gets looser as you both become more comfortable with each other. You talk about everything and anything, telling each other funny stories and showing pictures of your pets. “You’re a dog mom too?” you coo, gushing over her wallpaper of her and a fluffy, brown animal dressed as Santa Claus though he has pointed ears and horns.

“Reindeer mom,” she corrects you and titters at your confusion. “It’s a long story, but that’s my perfect little boy. His name is Chopper.” 

Other than Robin being a sweet-talker as Nami said, you also find out many other things about this alluring, attractive woman. Like how much she loves plays and Disney movies, becoming so excited when you ask her about her favorite films. “I love musicals,” she shyly says, an endearing blush on her face. “Can you tell I’m a secret theatre kid?”

Or how she tends to ramble about information she’s obtained from books and documentaries about tribes long gone and age-old urban legends. You could listen to her talk for hours. Unbeknownst to you, she feels the same about you whenever you speak about yourself and your interests. 

As the alcohol takes its affect on you both, she also tells you that she’s a devil fruit user, a term you’ve heard before since many in the world are, including your mutual friend Luffy. When you ask her about her ability, she just winks behind her third martini glass. “A woman never draws all of her cards…not all at once, anyway.” 

As the night draws on, so do the drinks and soon, you’re feeling loose and bold. You decide to show her your hidden talent which is rolling your eyes to the right and the left. “I can wiggle my ears too,” you say, showing her much to her amusement. She applauds you, giggling at your talent. “My, you’re full of surprises,” she giggles. “And so am I.” 

You suddenly feel something tickling your sides and look down to see two disembodied hands tickling you. Robin’s hands. You look at her in shock as she retracts her extra arms, using them to grab her third martini and take a sip. “The perks of being a devil fruit user,” she chuckles. At the sight of your expression, she grows concerned. “Do they frighten you?” 

“No,” you answer honestly. “They’re…” You stare at her extra hands, wondering how many more she has and how they would feel on your body. “Pretty,” you decide to answer with. That is enough for Robin to decide what she wants from you tonight. 

So when you’re both still sitting there when the bar is emptying out, she makes it known. “Oh, dear,” she sighs, exhaling in disappointment as the bartenders clean and the drunk crowd empties out. “It appears that our date has become to an end.” She turns to you, placing a warm hand on yours. “I really enjoyed meeting you, Y/N,” she says, a smile on her face that makes you ache. 

You don’t want tonight to end. You don’t want her to go. You need more of her touch. She seems to understand and see the mutual disappointment in your eyes because she doesn’t release your hand.

“Unless you want this night to continue,” she adds, her voice like honey in your ears. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t very attracted to you too, unless I’m mistaking the chemistry.”

You can’t speak, so you shake your head and her eyes twinkle. She leans in toward you, engulfing you in her scent. “Just say the words and I’ll go with you,” she whispers into your ear. 

Desire overwhelms you and you squeeze her hand, interlacing your fingers. “I’ll call a Lyft,” you exhale. Robin smiles, keeping her hand in yours. 

She doesn’t let go even hours later when your fingers are interlaced with each other while your legs are pinned open by her extra hands on the bed. Your moans and whimpers fill the darkness of your bedroom as she moves her tongue against your clit, moaning eagerly and sloppily into your pussy as she eats you like there is no tomorrow.

“Now I can really show you how good I am with my hands,” she giggles, looking up at you between your thighs. “You’re so cute like this, pretty girl.” 

You can feel that knot in your core tightening the more she moves her jaw, going faster and faster until you have no choice. “Robin,” you whine. “I'm gonna…gonna…!” Your back arches and your legs shake around Robin’s face. 

Her hold on you tightens, her hands gripping your thighs.“Cum for me, gorgeous,” she hums. “I’ve got you. Cum all over my face like a good girl.”

One thing is for sure while you gush around Robin’s face, loving how she eagerly laps up everything you give her: another date is definitely in the future for you and her.

PRO!KATSUKI BAKUGOU & KIRISHIMA EJIROU (BHNA)

*Note: Reader is plus-sized & a bimbo! 

*Disclaimer: Bakugou & Kiri are both aged-up (over the age of 18) in this drabble! 

You don’t know why you agreed to do this blind date thing, but your friend put you up to it after she reminded you of your NY resolution to try new things to help yourself. 

“You need to put yourself out there more, girl!” she argued over the phone with you. “Do you see how hot you are?! You deserve to have someone on your arm!” You pouted as you painted your toe nails a pretty bubblegum pink, your feet hanging over you bathtub smelling like vanilla bubblebath. 

Though she is right about you deserving a nice guy to tell you how pretty you are, most of the guys you dated either used you as arm candy, hit in then quit it, or just stopped talking to you because of your, uh…bimbo-ness. You know you have no filter and sometimes you do come off as dumb, but you’re trying your best! And you’re kind and the sweetest person anyone will ever meet! Isn’t that enough? 

“Yeah, but a blind date though?” you complained into the phone sitting on your sink. “How am I gonna go on a date if I can’t see, girl?” You gasped, even more mortified. “Or will my date be blind?! How will be able to see me and my cute outfit?!” 

Your friend just laughed. She knows you’re not the brightest crayon in the box, but you’re just too cute and sweet. “Honey, no! A blind date is when you meet someone you’ve never seen or met before. Someone else sets the date up for you.”

Your heart resumed its normal pattern and you relaxed into the water. “Ohhh,” you realized with a giggle. “Well, if you’re setting it up, can you tell me anything about him?”

Your friend refused, much to your dismay. “Nope, but you’ll meet him later this week. Saturday night at 7 PM, don’t be late. I’ll give you all the details before then.” You hung up, a bit nervous but excited, already picturing your outfit for the day. 

The Saturday of Valentine’s Day weekend, you go to the cafe your friend tells you to go to which is only a few blocks from your apartment. You dress in a pink sweater that does nothing to hide your voluptuous bosom and a pretty, cherry red skit that hugs your tummy and voluptuous ass, the damn thing so short that the ruffles stop mid-thigh, a sliver of your asscheeks seen whenever you bend over. You pair your V-Day outfit with some warm stockings and high black boots before putting on your favorite fluffy, pink coat. 

An hour later after putting on some vanilla-scented body spray and giving your lips a slick of your favorite Fenty Gloss in a sparkly pink, you stand in line to order your food, hoping that will ease your nerves over today. Because your friend loves you so much, she set you up for two dates today: one at the cafe and the other later tonight at your favorite bar.

Your first date is a redheaded hunk, according to your friend. “He’s got red hair and he’s a fucking giant,” she giggles. “And he’s SUPER fine. You’ll know him when see him.” You melted at the details. “I do like big guys,” you sigh dreamily. Your second date is just as fine, but a hothead. “My friend works with him at his agency and apparently, he’s got a mouth.” Your friend rolled her eyes. "The dude is like a pit bull, but he's so fucking sexy.” 

“I’m a little nervous though,” you mumbled, starting to feel insecure. “You think he’ll like me?” Your friend looked at you like you were insane, making you laugh. “Who wouldn’t? You’re adorable!” 

And you feel adorable when you go next to the counter and the cashier’s eyes shoots straight to your tits. You don’t notice, too busy feening for some sweet, sugar coffee. “Hi, can I please get a peppermint mocha latte with two pumps of caramel, please?” You are so damn cute that the guy blushes and quickly rings you up. You pay and thank him when you get your drink before walking off, but stop when something captures you. 

There, hidden behind a glass container behind the counter, are a bunch of seasonal-flavored doughnuts lined up in a row. Your eyes immediately go for the one coated in pink frosting, powdered sugar, and red and pink sprinkles. “Oooh,” you coo to yourself. “So pretty.” 

“Agreed,” says a raspy, sexy voice from behind you. You turn a little too quickly and a bit of coffee sloshes over the top of your drink and onto the crotch of the guy standing behind you. “Oops, I’m so sorry!” you gasp. “I didn’t even see you! Oh, it’s gonna stain! Here, quick!” You quickly reach for a wad of napkins and begin to dab at the man’s crotch, not even realizing how it looks. 

Still not even bothering to look up, the blonde furiously blushes while the redhead behind him stifles a laugh. “That’s quite okay,” he chuckles. “At least now he smells like peppermint down there.” The blonde growls like he wants to commit murder. “Plus, Katsuki was standing way too close to you in line, weren’t you, ‘Suki?” 

You hand the napkins over to the blonde, hyper-focused on the nickname. “‘Suki,” you giggle. “That’s such a cute…” Your words die in you when you finally, finally, look up into the eyes of the two finest, sexiest men you’ve ever seen in your life.

One of them has long, red hair cascading down his broad shoulders, fanged teeth that flash at you as he smiles, friendly, crimson eyes, and piercings––dangling from his ears, embedded in his eyebrow, and snakebites in his bottom lip.

The other sports a platinum blonde undercut and a scowl that slightly softens at the sight of you. He, too, has crimson eyes that widen at your pretty face and outfit and one piercing in his plump bottom lip. The only things similar about the duo are how tall, buff, and sexy they both are. “Name,” you weakly finish. “I-I’m Y/N.” 

The redhead grins, putting his big ass hand out for a shake. “Ejirou,” he says, “but my friends call me Kiri.” You do so, noticing how calloused his palm is and how much his sweater stretches against his pecs. The blonde has the same issue, his V-neck shirt way too tight for his toned body. “Bakugou,” he grumbles, giving you an intense stare that makes you melt on the inside. 

Those gears in your head start turning and you gape at the duo. “Wait…I know you two!” you gasp. “You guys are those superheroes, right? Dynamight and Red Riot!” Kiri tosses his head back and laughs while Bakugou glares daggers at you. “Damn, could you be any louder?” he growls. You cover your mouth, flushing with embossment. “Sorry!” you whisper. "I’m just a big fan of you two! I almost didn’t recognize you in normal clothes. I have your posters and all of your merch!” 

Kiri gives Bakugou a look that he would seeing a cat do something cute. And that is what you are: a cute little kitty. Something adorable and sweet yet you have a sexiness to you that both men are coming to find. “Well, it's always a pleasure to meet a fan. Especially such a cute one.” He grins at the way you giggle bashfully. “I’m guessing you’re a fan of sweets? Me too. I was actually planning on getting one of those for my boyfriend, my date, and I.” 

You notice Kiri gaze at Bakugou when he says “my boyfriend” and you quietly gush to yourself. “Oh, you two are dating?” you coo, much to Bakugou’s dismay. He’s so cute when he blushes! “That’s so sweet! Here, I’ll treat you guys to ‘em to make up for that nasty spill.” 

Kiri is just about ready to scoop you up and take you home with them when you dig into your bag for your Hello Kitty wallet. “Well, isn’t that sweet? You up for somethin’ sweet, Katsuki?” 

Though Bakugou feels the same way, he still wants to feel you out and see if this “bimbo-esque” personality you’ve got going on is a fake. “It’s whatever,” he grumbles. “But you’d better get me the chocolate one. I don’t want the one with all of those sprinkles and shit on it.” You vigorously nod, taking out some cash. “You got it!” you giggle and hand them the cash. After getting back in line, Kiri orders one chocolate and two strawberry donuts and his and Bakugou’s drinks. 

You thank the cashier when she hands you each pastry individually wrapped in a paper bag, nice, warm, and toasty from the oven. You turn to the pros and hand them the treats. “Here you guys go,” you sweetly say. Bakugou grumbles as he takes his while Kiri gives you a big gigawatt grin. “Thanks, cutie,” he chuckles. You expect them to start eating them, but you’re shocked when Bakugou hands one of the strawberry ones to you. 

You freeze, confused. “But…this is for your date,” you say, completely clueless. “Aren’t you gonna give it to them?” Bakugou pinches the bridge of his nose like a dad with a dumbass child. “Oh, my God,” he groans. Kiri thinks it’s endearingly hilarious, holding his stomach as he laughs. “You are our date, silly girl!” he giggles. “Well, mine, technically. Your friend set us up to have dates with you at different times today, but we both just came together since we’re dating. I hope that’s cool.” 

You gape at them, wondering if they’re serious. Two of the hottest pros on a date with you? At the same time?! You just about squeal with excitement. “Sure!” you giggle, your heart leaping for joy. “The more, the better! Let’s go sit down so we can get to know each other more.” 

The two are happy to oblige. Kiri picks out a table in the back that is more secluded and near the window for the sights. Before you sit, you turn to Katsuki with an apologetic pout. “I’m sorry again about the spill, Bakugou.” 

The blonde cuts his eyes at you and you can't tell what he’s thinking due to how permanent his scowl is. But that changes when he pulls your chair out for you. “Katsuki,” he replies. “And stop mentionin’ it. Besides, I know some other way you can make up for it later…maybe with your number.” He gives you a lopsided smirk that makes you tingle between your thighs. 

“Chill,” Kiri cuts in, rolling his eyes. “Sorry about him. We don’t usually flirt too hard on the first date…but you’re just too cute to resist.” He boldly looks you up and down, tugging lightly on his bottom lip. You wonder what else he can do with his mouth as the cafe’s atmosphere becomes more tense between the three of you. “Well, I could say the same about you two,” you purr, a shy giggle leaving your lips. 

That’s what the duo want to hear. Bakugou’s smirk widens, a twinkle in his vermillion eyes. “Glad the feelin’ is mutual, mama,” he whispers. “So you sittin’ or what? My fuckin’ coffee’s gettin’ cold.” You do so and you never want the date to end…unless it’s to spend more time with them in private.

NICHOLAS "NICO" BROWN (GANGSTA!)

You stand outside of a jazz club one chilly night, watching the passersby and wondering which one may be your blind date. 

Worick told you all about his friend, Nico, but you’ve never met him before. You only know that the two work together and have known each other since childhood. You’ve only known Worick for two years after he helped you out of a messy financial situation with your asshole ex-boyfriend who, according to Worick, nearly shat himself when Worick threatened to bring Nico in to handle things.

Apparently, Nico is well-known throughout the town for being an extremely threatening and intimidating figure. 

Why in the fuck would Worick want to set you up with someone like that? “He’s a cool dude, really!” he assured you over coffee. “Just…quiet. And it has nothing to do with the fact that he’s deaf. He’s just a quiet guy; a little awkward; introverted…” 

‘Not to mention threatening and intimidating,’ you thought to yourself. “And you thought I was just perfect for this guy?” you scoffed. “What will we even talk about? How can I talk to him if he’s so quiet?” 

“If you ask him something, he’ll answer you,” the handsome blonde replied. “And don’t worry too much about signing. He can read lips, but just make sure you slow down with your words.” Though Worick knows you know sign language due to your father being deaf since you were an infant. He can tell you’re still hesitant to say yes and folds his hands into a prayer.

“C’mon, sweetie,” he begs. “The guy has NEVER been on a Valentine’s Day date before and his last girlfriend was a fucking bitch who dumped him because he was deaf. All she wanted was his massive dick…sorry.”

He apologized when he saw your reaction. You didn’t need to know that his childhood friend has a big dick! ….Though you are curious to know just how big. “He needs someone kind, considerate, and sweet. You fit the bill! Just give him a chance, please?” 

Before you agreed, Worick told you all about Nico’s ex, happy to do so when you asked. Apparently, she was the daughter of a rich family that he and Worick were in charge of guarding for a couple of months. She and Nico grew closer, had a sexual relationship, and Nico caught feelings while she didn’t, claiming it was because she didn’t want to date someone deaf due to it being “too much work”. You felt bad for Nico, especially when hearing how much it hurt him. 

“You’re lucky I love you,” you sighed at Worick’s pleading stare. He clapped his big, calloused hands and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Love you too, sweetie,” he chuckled. “I’ll fill you in on the details later this week.” 

He instructed you to meet Nico at an underground jazz club that Nico particularly likes for its seclusion and because no one bothers him too much in there. You dressed in a simple cocktail dress, flats and a cardigan to keep warm in the chill. Combined with your styled hair and soft makeup, you think you look pretty. You hope this “Nico" person thinks so too. When you look down the street among the other stores and taverns, you see a man walking up the road and you immediately know that your date has arrived. 

He is big. Huge! The man is nothing but bulky muscle hidden beneath his black tee, baggy jeans, and leather jacket standing at six-foot-something. He towers over you as he gets closer, so much so that you have to look up at him to actually look at his face. You can see why he's so intimidating.

Other than his height and build, Nico carries himself with a roughness and a confidence that is unshakeable and undeniable. It’s scary…yet also thrilling. Kinda sexy too. 

Under the soft glow of the street lamps, you get a good look at his features: he has a soft tan to his skin, thick, soft-looking lips, and eyes a deep, dark chocolate that you can get lost in forever. Silver dog tags hang from his thick neck that has your blood going hot and slight scars and bruises that you can see on his knuckles. You wonder, briefly, how he got them. He’s very, very handsome.

Realizing he’s waiting for you to make the first move, you clear your throat. “Uh….hi!” you greet, giving him a wave. He nods, barely cracking a smile. “You’re Nico?” you sign with your hands and verbally ask. “I’m Y/N, Worick’s friend.” 

Nico shakes your hand and you notice how big, warm, and calloused his palm is. It makes your pussy tingle embarrassingly so. “The teacher, right?” he signs with those thick fingers. “He told me you teach little kids.” You nod, smiling proudly at your occupation. “Yes, pre-K,” you giggle. “They’re adorable, but a handful.” 

There is an awkwardness between you, mostly because Nico is such a silent guy. He also keeps that stoic scowl on his face, so you don’t really know what he’s thinking. “So what do you do?” you curiously ask. “Worick never filled me in on that. He just said you do ‘business’ together as Handymen.” At this, Nico cracks a crooked smirk. “Something like that,” he signs. That intrigues you a bit. 

“Do you wanna go inside?” you ask, nodding at the door. “We’ll freeze before we get a chance to get to know each other more.” You give a small laugh to which he only nods, making you feel like a fish out of water. He opens the door for you, surprising you, and nods you into the warm club.

“Thank you,” you whisper, catching his intoxicating scent of cologne and lavender soap as you walk in. A bit of cigarette smoke clings to his clothes too, but it doesn't bother you much. The club is small yet cozy and dimly lit for a more intimate feel. Many people are at the bar or on the dance floor near the small stage where a band plays, the sounds of piano and cello mingling in the air. 

After getting your drinks from the bar (you get a cocktail while Nico picks a beer), you pick a table near the window and Nico pulls out a chair for you. You flush bashfully at his actions, not taking him for such a sweet guy. “Such a gentleman,” you laugh as he pushes you in and takes a seat across from you. “Worick didn’t tell me that. He said you’re very quiet though.” He shrugs his broad shoulders in his jacket. “Just don’t got much to say,” he signs. 

You nod as you shed your coat, revealing your naked shoulders and dress to him. You try not to be intimidated by his unwavering gaze. “That’s okay,” you sign and say. “We can talk about whatever you want.” The corners of his mouth quirk upward. “You sign really well,” he praises you. You smile proudly and bashfully, glad to have impressed him. “My dad is deaf and taught me how to sign since I was young.” 

His smirk turns more dry and almost forced as he signs to you: “So me being deaf doesn’t turn you off?” he jokes.

You immediately remember his ex and feel your stomach fall. “Not at all,” you sweetly answer. “Though I don’t like beer drinkers.” You wrinkle your nose at Nico’s drink. He raises an eyebrow, confused at your distaste. “It makes kisses taste like beer.” You lean forward a bit, giving him a secretive, flirtatious smile. “I like my kisses sweet.” 

Your eyes tick down to his lips and he notices. But he barely reacts. If anything, he looks disinterested and your heart sinks. “Was that too much?” you ask worriedly. Did you go too far? Are you misreading this? 

Before you can babble an apology, he stops you. “You asked what I do for work with Worick,” he signs. You nod, your heart thumping madly in your chest. He takes a deep breath before signing again. “We do almost everything, but I do dirty work,” he tells you. “I used to be a mercenary, but…I’ve still got human blood on my hands.” He pauses, watching for your reaction. That explains the marks on his fists. ”Does that bother you?” he asks, apprehension in his brown eyes. Before you can respond, someone knocks into the table, nearly toppling it over. 

You squeak, grabbing your drink before it can topple over while Nico straightens the table. “Oh, my God, are you alright?” you gasp, immediately helping the guy onto his feet. He turns to you, all crooked teeth and bloodshot eyes. “Now I am,” he drunkenly chortles at the sight of you. “Damn, darlin’, you’ve got a body on you! You wanna dance?” You immediately step back, warning bells going off in your head. “U-Uh, no, sorry. I’m here with–“ 

The man turns to Nico who has been staring daggers at the drunk the whole time. “Him?” he cackles. “That fuckin’ cockhead? You can get someone better than that, darlin’. Someone who can take care of this bo–“ 

The drunk cuts himself off with a whine of pain as Nico grips his hand so hard that he cracks the drunk’s knuckle bones. Unbeknownst to you, the drunk tried to touch your behind and Nico wasn’t having that. Doesn’t he know who he’s fucking with? You gape at your date as he steps between you and the drunk, a hulking mountain, and gets deep in the drunk’s grill.

And then he opens his mouth: “Back up,” he warns, his voice deeper and raspier than you pictured it though loud due to his hearing. “Unless you want your head in this table, I suggest you leave her alone. She’s with me.” 

He then releases the drunk who scampers away, clutching his hand to his chest. Nico composes himself and turns to you, an apologetic look in his eyes. “Sorry,” he signs. You don’t say anything and he is so sure that he fucked this up. Now you see who he is. Now you see that he’s just a Twilight. A mercenary. A no good– 

“Nico?” you softly ask. His hurtful thoughts take the back burner when you step to him, looking up at him with those precious, brown eyes. “Do you want to dance?” you ask, signing the words to him. 

He blinks at you, so sure that you're scared of him. When in reality, you're just trying to push the nasty thoughts of him kissing you silly and fucking you up against the table with that big, sexy body and massive dick out of your mind.

Him defending you but still being a complete, gentle giant to you is getting you going completely, but it’s still the first date. You want him to open up and maybe a slow dance can do that for you. “Not much of a dancer,” he signs, looking sheepish. 

You smile and offer your hands to which he takes. “I’ll show you how,” you giggle, pulling him along onto the dance floor filled with slow-dancing pairs. A soft, slow tune with a seductive saxophone and piano plays as you stand eye to eye. You place one hand on his shoulder as you interact your fingers with his with the other. Slowly, you begin to sway to the music, beginning to melt within the music and each other. 

And when lean your head onto his shoulder, finally feeling at peace, Nico comes to feel that this is where you belong: with him, in his arms. 

KEISUKE BAJI (TOKYO REVENGERS)

*Disclaimer: Baji is aged up (over the age of 18) in this drabble! 

“You’re the worst blind date I’ve ever had,” you very boldly and irritatingly tell the annoyingly sexy man sitting across from you. 

The attractive man with the long, wavy black hair, sharp eyes the color of milk chocolate, and a sharp, canine smile looks across from you at the table littered with remnants of your Italian dinner. Baji is his name apparently, a close friend of Mikey’s and one of his gang members. You never understood that gang shit, but they never give you problems.

If anything, Mikey’s gang ‘Toman’, protects you and makes sure you go about your days without any bother. “I’m guessin’ you’ve been on many blind dates before me?” Baji suggests as he chews on his pasta. “Huh. That’s a shocker.” 

You sharply squint at him, catching onto that shade. “Why is that so shocking?” you ask, digging your nails into the table with how irked you are. You can’t believe Mikey set you up with him. It’s been 25 minutes into the date and so far, each conversation was an argument and shot after shot.

Your personalities clash horribly, not to mention every woman in the place has their eyes on him. And he knows it! Not to mention that he’s an extremely messy eater (which led your mind to other places), he is way too into himself, and he has no idea how to act in a classy setting like an Italian restaurant. 

He’s a wild. He’s argumentative and hot-headed. He’s a rugged, tough-as-nails, roughneck dude…and he’s turning you on.  

Baji leans back against his chair, widening his legs in a way that makes you want to scream. Why the fuck does he have to be so goddamn fine but such an asshole? Is God punishing you? “Well, bein’ the fact that you’re the very definition of ‘a stick in the mud’,” he explains, “and a tighter than a drum, I can hardly believe how any guy sat across from you at a table. At least you’re pretty.” He goes back to eating his pasta like he didn’t just insult you. 

“Excuse me?” you hiss, feeling your blood boil. Thank God for your dress or else, you’re sure you’d boil over from the anger you feel. “And I can’t imagine how any self-respecting woman can sit with a lowlife, cocky, smart ass narc like you. And unlike me, your looks do nothing to take away any of that.” Baji’s thick, black eyebrows raise at the shot you took. “And you’re snarky,” he chuckles. “Lucky for you, I’ve got a thing for snarky girls.” 

He uses his sinful tongue to lick a bit of sauce from his bottom lip. You catch a glint of metal on his tongue as he does and you realize that he has a tongue piercing. ‘Fuck,’ you think, clenching your thighs beneath the table and gripping the hem of your dress. You lean your hand against the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache coming on. “I can’t believe I said yes to this shit,” you sigh into your hand. “Fuck the $50. I’m gonna have to tell Mikey that–“ 

“Mikey?” Baji cut in, pausing from eating. “Mikey put you up to this?” His brown eyes widen in shock and you feel a spark of joy at shutting him up. “Yes,” you proudly say, venom in your tone, “he did. And you know why? It’s because no other girl wants to date you. You’re unromantic, you’re a slob, you’re always looking for an argument, and you seem to push every single guy’s buttons in here.” 

He stares at you for a moment, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, and then he begins to laugh so loud that the others in the restaurant look at him. You hide behind your hand, embarrassed. “Oh, shit!” he cackles. “I swear, that motherfucker is desperate to find me somebody.” You nod, pushing your dinner to the side. “Agreed. Why he ever thought I would be a perfect match for you is beyond me.” 

Baji looks at you now, an unreadable expression on his face as his smile fades. “Maybe it’s because you’re such a fuckin’ brat,” he replies though his tone is different. You stare at him in disbelief, scowling. Did he really just say that? Deadass? 

Baji smirks at your reaction. “You heard me: B-R-A-T. You’re a brat and fortunately for you, baby girl, I’m just the guy to handle a chick like you.” He leans in toward you, folding his ringed knuckles beneath his chin. “Someone who doesn’t shut the fuck up or know her place.” 

“Know her place?!” you snap, earning the attention of the restaurant. He barely reacts, though his smile grows and a strange twinkle appear in his eyes. “You know what? Fuck this and fuck you. Why you even have an ex-girlfriend is beyond me if this is how you talk to them.” You stand up in your pretty, body-hugging dress and grab your coat. “I’m leaving,” you huff, snatching the coat on. “Have a good Valentine’s Day, dickhead.” 

Without another word or waiting for him to respond or even stop you, you leave the restaurant and step out into the cold February night. You barely get down the street before you hear your name being called. You turn, seeing Baji jogging towards you, those black locks flowing in the wind. “Y/N!” he calls in his deep ass voice. “Hold up, wait!” You don’t know why you stop, but you do, putting a hand on your hip. You glare at him and pout those plump lips when he finally stops in front of you. “You left your dessert.” 

He presents a small brown box to you and opens it to reveal a small chocolate fudge cake with chocolate mousse on the inside and Godiva flakes coating the top. “I didn’t order any dessert,” you say in a tight voice. He smirks down at you, standing several heads taller than you. “I know; that’s why I ordered ya one. C’mon, you don’t like chocolate cake?” You look back down at the cake and close it before he hands it to you. “What, is this an apology?” you snort. “Sorry, man, but you’re gonna have to try much harder than–“ 

“You’re wonderin’ why I have an ex, right?” he interrupts you. You pause, confused, but he just smiles mischievously at you. “I have an ex, and many of them, because I’m an asshole, unfortunately. Force of habit.” He shrugs, but actually looks guilty for it. “But I’ve had many girlfriends because I know how to tame them.” 

His smile is flirtier now, creating more of that sexual tension that you felt at dinner. You still stare at him, speechless, and he figures that you’re clueless about what he means. “I put it down,” he explains. "Give good dick. Knock their boots. Am I makin’ any sense here?”

You roll your eyes, ignoring the thoughts running in your head of just how good he is in the bedroom. “I know what you mean,” you snap. “So why the fuck are you tellin’ me this?” 

Baji smiles at you, his canines glowing at you as if they are illuminated by a light within them. They thrill you and bring a ferocious and needy part out of you that you didn’t know was even there. He takes a step toward you, getting closer, until you can reach up and kiss him if you want to.

“Because I know you’re attracted to me,” he murmurs matter-of-factly. “What, you think I can’t see it? The way you squeezed your thighs tight together at the table. The way you kept starin’ dead at my hands. The way you’d get so lost in thought as if daydreaming about somethin’ else way more exciting.” 

You flush embarrassingly, more at your behavior than the fact that Baji noticed it. You can’t help how attracted you are to him. But Baji doesn’t want you to be embarrassed or ashamed. He wants you to want him the same he wants you.

“Lucky for you, mama,” he purrs, the pet name making your pussy jump, especially with his voice, "I’m just as whipped for you, especially in that dress.” His fingers lightly glide down your arm, sending shivers down your spine. “I’m sorry about tonight, but I can show how sorry I am in other ways if you want me to.” 

You can tell he genuinely means it and isn’t just trying to get in your pants, but even so, you still scowl up at him, your jaw set and eyes narrow. “And why do you think I’ll say yes?” you question. He just chuckles, still flashing you that sharp, sexy smile. “Because you know I’m the only one who can handle that bratty ass of yours.” 

He then turns and waves a hand. You don’t know what for until a taxi suddenly glides over to the curb and stops. Baji walks to the backdoor and opens it before looking back at you expectantly, his eyes molten with lust.

“Now get in the fuckin’ car, Y/N.” You know you shouldn’t get in the car and go anywhere with him, but you can’t deny how much he makes your pussy throb. So against your better judgment, you crawl into the backseat of the cab and tell the driver your address. 

Hours later after being stripped out of your dress, shown extensive foreplay, and having your pussy eaten like Baji hasn’t had anything to eat in decades, you find yourself being fucked against the wall with your arms and legs wrapped tight around the long-haired, tattooed man who holds you against him as he pummels his thick, hard cock into your tight, wet pussy again and again. The bedroom is filled with the sound of your mixed moans and skin slapping against skin as he pistons his hips into you, making you see stars. 

It doesn’t take long for your pussy to start quivering around his cock, squelching and dripping the more he fucks it. You’ve never been fucked like this in your life and you’re able to hold back anymore. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Baji!” you practically scream. “Can’t…can’t take it! I’m gonna cum!” 

Baji shakes his head, gripping your hair with one hand while he hikes you up onto his waist with the other, showing you how lightweight you are to him. “Uh-uh, bratty girl,” he huffs. “Not yet, mama. I need to feel more of this pretty pussy flutterin’ around me.”

He thrusts harder, faster, drawing whines and sobs out of you. You begin to claw at his back where a large tattoo dedicated to Toman is inked into his back muscles. “You cum when I say, understand?” he growls into your ear. 

You weakly nod, willing to do anything he says if that means you can cum. “Now shut the fuck up, and take this dick.” You do so, stopping your protests as he fucks you stupid until you cream all over his cock while he fills you up to the brim…but of course, you only do it when he says so. You find that you love doing what he tells you to. 

When everything is said and done, you both crumble to your bedroom floor and Baji pecks your cheek. “Best blind date ever, right?” he chuckles.

BENIMARU SHINON (FIRE FORCE)

*Note: Reader is Goth! 

“God, kill me,” you sigh, standing in front of the theater doors. “Why did I agree to do this? He could be a serial killer or something!” 

You contemplate leaving, but you already promised your best friend that you’d go through with this stupid blind date on this stupid ass holiday. “Please just try and go along with it for tonight, Y/N!” she practically begged. “I promise he’s a nice guy! And I already told him you agreed! Just give it a chance and I promise you that I’ll never bother you about dating again.” 

You groaned, sitting across from her at a bar. “Fuck,” you sighed. “Fine. Can I least pick the movie?” Your friend eagerly nodded, so you purposely picked a romance/horror movie marathon showing that the theatre does every year for Valentine’s Day. The kind with blood n guts, gothic vampires, and slashers. Surprisingly, the guy still agreed to come much to your dismay and you had no choice but to come out. 

You know that your friend did this as a way to get you to start dating. You swear she thinks that one of these days that you’ll hang yourself from the shower rod with how lonely you are…and this has zero to do with you being goth. Though you love the color black, but you’re not depressed. You love dark makeup and rock music, but that’s what you love. You’ve always adored gothic fashion and the aesthetic, so that’s what you live. 

However, some people think it’s weird. Though Tokyo is full of eccentric and different type of fashion, goth isn’t particularly “popular” in your Black family or side of the city. And it certainly isn’t popular with the guys. You don’t care. You love yourself and you’re not about to change for anyone. So you dress in your finest black attire with a mini leather skirt, thigh-high stockings, and boots that make you feel powerful and sexy. Your makeup is dark, your mascara is sharp, your nails are as long and sharp as claws, and chains drip from your leather jacket. 

You wonder what your date will be like. Apparently, he’s a well-regarded and respected officer in the Special Fire Force, among the strongest there is. But you don’t recognize him when he comes up the road from his side of the city. He is tall and has a lean build that is hidden behind a black sweater and baggy jeans. His locks of black hair hang in his face, but not enough to hide his different set of eyes: his right pupil is a red circle with one black dot in the middle while his iris is black; his left is red with a white X in the middle, reminding you of a game of tic, tac, toe. 

“Hey,” he greets easily. “You waitin’ for someone?” You scowl at him, crossing your ams over you chest. “Why are you asking?” you ask sharply. The stranger raises his big hands in defense, taking a step back. “I’m not trying you, I promise. I’m just wondering if you’re this Y/N that’s supposed to be waiting here for me.” 

You squint at him, cocking your head to the side to see him at a different angle. “Benimaru?” you question. “Huh. You don’t look how I thought at all.” He is handsome but not enough to knock you off your game. He quirks a small smirk and you have a feeling that this dude don’t smile often. “I hope that’s a good thing,” he wryly chuckles. “For the record, you’re not bad on the eyes either…if that’s what you meant.” 

You don’t acknowledge his compliment or react even though your stomach flips. You’re not used to anyone complimenting you on the account of your black lipstick and mascara. “So should we go in or stay out here to freeze to death?” you sarcastically ask. You huff and turn on your heel before Benimaru can even answer or follow you. 

He easily beats you to the door on his long legs and opens it for you, towering over you as he does. “Is sarcasm just natural for you?” he asks, dry humor in his voice as you step into the theater. You feel a pang of guilt at your behavior. It’s not his fault your friend orchestrated this. 

“Sorry,” you apologize. “I’ll admit, I’m not too hype about being here. Dating isn’t really my thing, but my friend insisted I come on this stupid blind date…no offense.” Benimaru barely blinks at you walk to the ticket counter. “None taken. My friend, Konro, swore I needed a Valentine’s Day date when the whole holiday isn’t even a holiday. It’s pure BS.” 

“Ugh, agreed,” you scoff, rolling your pretty, brown eyes ringed in mascara “It’s just a way for companies to continue to capitalize off of hopeless romantics and couples. Not to mention all of that pink.” 

Benimaru nearly misses that, too busy thinking about how pretty your eyes are. “I’m takin’ you don’t like pink?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you. “Not that your clothes are a dead giveaway or anything.” His interestingly alluring eyes tick up and down your outfit, making you feel hot under all of the leather. “I just like black,” you laugh. “But don’t get me wrong; I wear other colors sometimes, but only on a minuscule level.” 

“Your friend said you were a gothic chick,” he chuckles, giving you a mischievous smirk. You send it right back as you take out the two tickets your friend sent you for the movie. “As gothic as they come,” you retort. Benimaru just hums in response, particularly liking you in that mini skirt and the way it swishes around your thighs. 

After buying the tickets, you two wander into the small waiting area where a bar, a cafe, and an arcade occupy the space. “So the movie starts in about fifteen minutes. Should we head in now?” Benimaru doesn’t answer at first, too busy staring at the arcade games. “Nah,” he replies, nodding at the flashing, noisy games. “We can kill some time in here.” He begins to walk over, expecting you to follow. “Your friend also said you’re shit at racing games,” he says with a smirk shot your way. 

“Not true!” you scoff, crossing your arms. He shrugs pausing in the threshold of the arcade to wait for you. You finally give in, taking off your jacket to reveal your black crop top. “Fine, but only if we got time for the shooting games too. I wanna kill some zombies.” Benimaru nods, secretly laughing to himself as you follow him into the arcade. 

You spend way more than fifteen minutes in that bitch, playing all the games you can. Benimaru is good at almost everything, playing each game with skill and precision. He lets you win most of the time, just liking to see you smile and laugh in pride when you win a racing game or beat him at ping pong. During the zombie game, you get overrun by the undead while holding your plastic machine gun and you feel him lightly touch your elbow to point the gun straight. His touch sends shivers all over you. You win the first half until you run out of time and Benimaru smirks at you. “I totally helped you with that,” he sniggers. 

You also play basketball, shooting them repeatedly through hoops. He always gets the farthest hoop and the highest points, winning every round. “You only won ‘cause you’re taller,” you huff, bumping your hip with his as you walk by. It gives him the perfect opportunity to watch your ass sway in that damn skirt, making him hard as a rock for you. 

As walk to get something to drink, you stop at one game in particular: the crane game. It holds dozens of little plushies that you’re obsessed with, including the little black plague doctor with its big eyes and fluffy beak. Benimaru smirks at you staring at the game, walking up beside you. “I saw you looking at this thing the whole time,” he says. "You couldn't have been any less discreet.” 

“Shut up,” you grumble, still staring at the plushie. He notices and pulls out his last arcade coin. “What, you want it?” You quickly shake your head, turning to leave. “We’re gonna miss the movie anyways, so–“ 

“Fuck it,” he carelessly interrupts, shocking you. “You obviously want that penguin, so I’ll get it for you.” 

You roll your eyes, sighing. “It’s not even a penguin; it’s a plague doctor Squishable. It ain’t a big deal for me to have it, Benimaru.” But your date just glares at you as he bends down to put the coin in the slot. “And it ain’t a big deal for me to get it for you,” he argues. “If we miss the movie, we’ll just go for food.” 

You are floored by his stubbornness and refusal to give up until he’s made you happy. How can that be? You only just met and yet here he is, using his last coin to try to get you a stupid plushie! You watch with bated breath as he plays the game, moving the crane slowly as he fixes his eyes on the plushie. Once he’s moved the crane right over the plushie, he hits a button, causing the crane to sink down into the sea of stuffed animals. The crane’s hooks latch onto the peak of the plushie and, slowly, he moves it over to the opening in the corner to release it.

The crane plays music and lights up in victory as the plushie rolls down the chute into Benimaru’s hand. He turns to you, an unreadable look on his face. “Here,” he says passively. “I figured goth girls didn’t like cute shit like this…but he is kinda creepy.” 

You take the plushie, just staring at it for a moment. All of the sudden, you feel weird. You feel tingly and butterflies flutter around in your stomach. That never happens, but it’s happening for this guy! “Thanks,” you softly, and very shyly, say. Benimaru shrugs like it isn’t anything to him, but it is to you. “Y’know, the movie marathon is gonna be showing another night too…” You trail off, looking down at your shoes to avoid seeing his eyes. 

“So you want another night with me?” he asks. Quickly, you turn on your heel and stomp out of the arcade, leaving him utterly confused. “What?” he calls after you, sounding genuinely baffled. “It was just a question!” 

A second night with him does happen two weeks later and you do see the midnight marathon, but neither of you pay any attention to the first move that plays. You’re too busy bouncing on your date’s thick, veiny cock in the darkness of the theater to watch the film, biting back your moans despite the seats being empty. Benimaru softly grunts and moans into your ear as your walls flex around him, his eyes transfixed on the way your ass jiggles as he lifts up your skirt. 

“Fuck, Beni!” you moan. “Y-You’re s-so fuckin’ big!” You grip his thighs with your long nails as his dick stretches you out in the best way, a delicious ache coming in your calves with the effort it takes to bounce on him. Benimaru stands up and bends you over the seat in front of you, beginning to fuck you from behind. He is fast and nails that single spot every time that makes you have to cover your mouth because you’re so loud. 

“Shh, shh, baby,” he coos into your ear as he continues to pound into you from behind. “You don’t want security comin’ to find us, do you? Or maybe you do, you little slut, fuckin’ your date in the movie theatre.” He takes a fistful of your hair and pulls, much to your enjoyment of being slutted out in the dark. Anyone could walk in and see you fucking right now. It’s so naughty. So sexy. 

The thrill of it must be getting to Benimaru too because he speeds up his thrusts, his balls slapping against your clit as his hand smacks against your ass, gripping it tight. “Shit, baby, you’re gonna make cum!” he groans, tossing his head back at the feeling of your tight walls squeezing around him. “Cum with me! Make that pretty fuckin’ pussy cum around my cock!” 

You quickly begin to rub you swollen clit in time with his thrusts and soon enough, you’re cumming all over his cock. “Fuck!” you scream into your hand as your orgasm tears through you. Benimaru cums too, filling you up with a long groan that he bites back as best as he can among the movie playing. He lets you come down from cloud nine before pulling out, letting his cum leak down your thighs. He turns you around, pumping his cock soaked in your juices. “Not yet,” he growls. “Put it back in your mouth and taste yourself.” 

You get on your knees, panties at your ankles and leather skirt hiked up. Benimaru wastes no time thrusting into your mouth, using it as his very own fucktoy, as he watches your brown eyes ringed in mascara stare up at him eagerly. When he pulls away to cum again, your black lipstick stains his cock, marking him as yours.

“Fuck!” he gasps as he cums all over your pretty face, ruining your eye makeup. It is now but black smears down your cheeks as his nut drips all over your face and cheeks. 

“Poor baby,” he chuckles. “Your mascara’s runnin’. I bet you worked so hard on it.” He takes a napkin from your movie snacks and dabs away the cum. “So cute,” he sighs, marveling at how utterly adorable you look. You giggle, feeling deliriously good and cute, just as he says. 

Yeah. A third date is most definitely in the future for you now. 

#smutty smut #black fanfic writer #bnha smut #my works #my fic shit #black coded reader #black writers #jjk smut #tokyo revengers smut #one piece smut #gangsta smut #aot smut #levi x fem!reader #levi x black reader #robin x black reader #robin x reader #nico x reader #nicolas brown #benimaru x reader #benimaru smut #nanami x black!reader #nanami kento #bakugou x fem!reader #kirishima x fem!reader #kiribaku x reader #poly kiribaku #baji x reader #baji smut #fire force smut #valentines day

[thekinslayed]

Oh, Mother

summary | Aegon sinks deeper into despair as his marriage crumbled, and his downfall caused by his own vices.

pairing | modern aegon targaryen x wife!reader

tags | TW alcoholism, substance abuse, divorce, heavy angst, intoxication, death, toxic relationship, reader is a stark but no features are mentioned

wordcount | 1.9k

note | dabbling into a little angst... this was inspired by kendall roy from succession and the song I Know It's Over by The Smiths. this song reminded me heavily of aegon, and i had seen some posts saying this too, but i've forgotten who :( if you seen these posts pls lmk and i'll link them!

song rec | I Know It's Over by The Smiths

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated! i am open for fic requests <3

(divider by @saradika-graphics)

Sad veiled bride, please be happy, 

Handsome groom, give her room

“I can’t take this anymore!” She yelled, pulling her arm away from Aegon’s grip to grab her bags. He stumbled over the clutter, mind desperately fighting through the haze of his intoxication. 

“N-no, my love, please!” He slurred, blindly reaching for her, but she was nowhere near his reach. The cries of their daughter echoed from the nursery, his wife pushing past him to carry the wailing babe. Aegon’s knees felt like they were held up by loose screws, wobbling as they sent him stumbling to the floor. 

His wife had found him in the nursery, lying in a puddle of his own vomit after he came home drunk out of his mind, again. She had gotten so used to spending these nights alone that she had her daughter sleep beside her on what used to be hers and Aegon’s bed. Never had she been more glad for this decision, because her highly intoxicated husband had also managed to knock down the furniture in their little girl’s room in his drunken stupor. 

Gods know what else he had been drinking, or if it was more than just liquor. When she and Aegon first met, he had labeled himself as ‘broken goods’, yet despite his flaws, she loved him through it all, fully thinking she would be the one to fix him. 

Foolish, foolish girl, did you not know that a broken vase glued back together would still shatter?  

She bounced her daughter on her hip, wiping away the baby’s tears as hers started to fall. A sob bubbled from her chest when she heard Aegon calling out for her from the other room. Swallowing down the lump in her throat, she continued to pack her daughter’s things with one hand while she held the baby. Aegon was still pitifully trying to straighten himself up, now knocking down the lamp by their bedside. 

A honk was heard from outside their home, and she rushed out with the baby bag to the car. Her brother, Cregan, had gotten out of the car, helping her settle her one-year-old daughter into the baby seat. When the baby was settled, she left her with her sister-in-law, Alysanne, before rushing back into the house one last time to grab her bags that sat in the living room.

Aegon had somehow managed to stumble down the stairs, knocking down the picture frames that lined along the walls. Bottles of various liquor still sat open on the countertops, mostly empty. 

Her hand had grabbed the handle of one of her suitcases when she was whipped around as Aegon grabbed her shoulders. His eyes were red, and his pale skin was heavily flushed. This wasn’t her Aegon, no, she didn’t know this man before her. Her Aegon used to have a face so angelic, that his mother even used to call him her little cherub. The sight of him in this state scared her, and she could only squeeze her eyes shut as he shook her shoulders, yelling.

“Why are you doing this? You promised me! You promised you would never leave!” He cried out. Hot tears fell down his cheeks, spit flying as he sobbed. His grip on her only tightened when she tried to wiggle out of his grip, her hands gripping his wrist to pull him away from her.

“Let go of me! You’re hurting me, Aegon!” She screamed as his nails dug into her flesh. In a blur, Aegon was sent to the ground once more, this time by a fuming Cregan. Her brother bent down to grab the collar of Aegon’s shirt, planting punches across his face in rage. 

She pulled at her brother’s shoulder with all of her strength, sobbing at the sight of Aegon’s beautiful face being painted by blood. Cregan only relented at a sob of his name, turning to hold his sister. “Don’t… don’t hurt him like that, please,” She pleaded.

Aegon turned to his side to spit out the blood that filled his mouth. He keeled over in pain, his head throbbing from the combination of his intoxication and the pain from Cregan’s fists.

He opened his eyes, bleary, to the sight of her walking out the door for the last time. He will never see her again.

The last thing he hears is the sound of an envelope dropped to the table and Cregan’s voice.

“You stay away from her.” He warned, coming to stand before Aegon’s crumbled form. “You stay away from her, Aegon, or I swear to the gods, I will kill you.” 

Aegon grimaced when Cregan spat on him, though he figured he deserved worse. As the front door closed and you drove away, Aegon laid helplessly on the floor of his empty home, staring at the envelope entailing the end of your marriage.

If you’re so funny,

Then why are you on your own tonight?

Aegon Targaryen was named the heir to Dragonstone Corporation upon his birth. He was to succeed his father, Viserys Targaryen, who forged their family name into history as the leaders of media across Westeros. At a young age, it was instilled in Aegon that he was destined for greatness, that he would further their success. He was surrounded by fame, money, and power, and for a long time, he relished it. Always spotted by the paparazzi throwing the wildest parties, his face covered the tabloids as they labeled him ‘The Bad Boy Targaryen’, “Viserys’ Problematic Heir!’, ‘The Future of Dragonstone flying high as a kite’. The weight of the pressure of having to fill in his father’s shoes made Aegon crumble. By the third year of university, he pulled out of school, dedicating his time to more debauchery and alcohol. He had found that to be drunk was to be numb. With enough booze in his system, he could forget his father’s disappointment, the pain of his mother’s heavy hand, and the jibes he would get from the press. 

It didn’t take long for Viserys to disinherit him, leaving him with only a third of his inheritance and the role of Dragonstone passed on to his sister, Rhaenyra.

And at last, he was free.

Free to drink to his heart’s desire. Free to spend his days wasting away, toiling for nobody. That was until he met her.

She blessed him with a love he had never known. It was different from the love of his mother, whose affections grew harsh whenever he displeased her, which was often. His mother loved him, but he knew well that she did not like him. Her love stemmed from her lack of choice on the matter, he was hers after all. 

But his girl, the light of his life, had shown him a love didn’t have to be worked for. A love that came with no expectations, no obligation. She had touched something deep within his numb heart and brought him alive. They had eloped after less than a year of dating, and their daughter had been born 9 months after that. For once, he was happy, he was content with his little family.

This change made him want to be an honest man, to try harder, and the gods know he did. But with the dependence he had developed on his vices, it didn’t take long for him to fall back into old, terrible habits. Something within him just couldn’t resist the temptation, the sweet numbness, the dizzying haze that kept his mind silent.

Every time he would come home to her with a toxic mixture of substances filling his system, what he remembered most was the way she looked at him. The sad, broken look in her eyes, the same one his mother used to have. That look had soon turned into disgust, and eventually into exhaustion.

He should have expected this, really. 

And as he lay in the bath, tears started to stream down his face, falling into the tepid water. He thought back to when they would sit together in the bath when his wife was pregnant. His hands rubbed soothingly at her belly, his lips kissed every inch of her skin, and she sighed in delight and leaned back against his chest. Aegon hiccuped another sob, wiping at his face furiously.

Icy blue eyes scanned around the bathroom they used to share, falling on a silver necklace on the marble countertop. It was the first gift he ever gave her, a simple chain with a symbol of a dragon engraved into its pendant. She used to tell him all the time it was her favorite, and that she couldn’t live without it, just like she couldn’t live without him. And now, the necklace lay abandoned in the bathroom, and so did Aegon.

Wouldn’t she be looking for it? I need to give it to her, she’ll come looking for it.

Will she?

The realization dawned on him that she had left it there, along with everything else that tied her to him— her ring, their wedding photos, even the shoes she wore at their wedding that she bought with a third of her savings.

She was never coming back, for her things, for him. Aegon closed his eyes and sighed, reaching over the edge of the tub for the bottle that sat waiting on the floor.

See, the sea wants to take me

The knife wants to slit me

Do you think you can help me?

“Mum?” Aegon panted into the phone, breath shuddering as he awaited to hear his mother’s voice.

“Aegon? Are you alright?” Alicent said, her sweet voice bringing her son instantly into tears.

“Mum, s-she’s gone. They left me, I’m all alone.” He sobbed. Alicent closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, pressing a hand to her heart as it broke upon hearing her firstborn’s despair.

“I know, my son, I know. You have to let her go. You have to get better, for her, for your daughter.” She said, in hopes of trying to get to him. Aegon only sobbed louder, his pitiful cries causing Alicent to cover her mouth with her hand as tears fell from her own eyes.

“Mum… Mum…” Aegon called out, suddenly starting to wheeze. “I don’t feel so good.” He mumbled.

“Aegon, what’s wrong? Talk to me, my darling,” Alicent said, panicking. She tried to listen helplessly as her son continued to splutter into the phone, before groaning in pain. “Aegon! What happened? Did you take something?” “I don’t know, Mum, I took these pills, I-I couldn’t sleep. I want to sleep, Mum… ‘m so tired,” He uttered, voice growing weaker as his eyelids grew heavier.

“Hello? Aegon? Aegon, please, my darling. Say somethin— Criston, Criston! We need to go it’s my son, it’s Aeg— Aegon? Can you hear me sweet boy? We’re coming just, please!” 

The sweet sound of his mother’s voice was the last thing that Aegon did as his eyes shut closed and he let out a sigh. He lay on the floor, still surrounded by the mess that came with the whirlwind of her departure. He laid on the floor, so very still, letting the weight of his pain be lifted away, along with every ounce of his being.

Oh, Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head

#bella writes ✍️ #aegon ii targaryen imagines #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii fic recs #aegon ii targaryen #aegon the elder #modern aegon #hotd #hotd x reader #tom glynn carney #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader

[sports-on-sundays]

us / OP81

Summary: Oscar x childhood friend!female!Australian!reader - 'She fell first, he fell harder' trope. You had a crush on Oscar for years but you never thought you and him would actually happen. Fluffy thing I'm banging out for his birthday.

Warnings: censored cussing

Requested?: No.

Author's Note: It's raining right now, so that kind of inspired this.

"Ugh!" you suddenly groan when you feel a raindrop on your arm. "You've got to be kidding me! I thought it wasn't supposed to rain for another two hours!"

"It's raining?" Oscar asks, looking up at the grey sky. "F*ck, you're right."

"Yeah! I hate the United Kingdom!"

He snorts. "I can't say I disagree."

"Weather sucks. Can't even go for a nice walk with my friend without it starting to rain halfway through it!"

"Want to turn around, then? Head back to my flat?"

You groan and nod. "Sure." The two of you begin walking, retracing your steps.

You're just celebrating his birthday late with him, spending some time, and plan to give him a little gift later.

"Getting chilly?" Oscar asks as you walk, amused. "And you were so sure earlier, before we left. 'Oscar, it's fine!'" he begins imitating you, "'The rain won't begin for another two hours! I'll be fine in just this!' You're going to freeze."

You sigh. Yes, it's true. You were stuck on wearing the orange papaya crop top you just bought for this date afternoon walk with Oscar. He kept asking you why you were so stuck on it, but of course you couldn't answer. Because then you'd be admitting to his handsome face that you like him, and that you want to impress him.

He's not very impressed right now with your foolish decision to not bring a jacket, and makes this clear as he mutters, "You're so weird."

You frown. Well, that's the opposite of your goal. You want Oscar to like you, not think you're weird.

But when he catches your eye, there's a teasing look to it. "But I don't mind you being weird. Just becomes a little annoying when I have to give up my jacket in order to keep you warm."

You stare at him as he grins, slipping off his black windbreaker/rain resistant jacket and lays it over your shoulders. He's wearing a long sleeve shirt under it, but still, you feel bad.

And you're definitely not cold anymore, as you're heating up with embarrassment by the sweet gesture from him. You slip your arms into the jacket, which is big on you, and smells like whatever cologne or laundry detergent or whatever he uses.

You look up at him, catching him staring at you, with a little smile on his lips.

He looks away.

"Wha-?" you demand.

"Nothing. It's just kind of big on you."

"Right."

Well, now it's awkward.

Oscar seems to make a point of always walking on the side of the street on the sidewalks. You're not sure if it's because it's specifically you, or if he would do that with anyone, but either way, you like it.

As you walk, the air seems to get more chilled, and the rain picks up. Suddenly, there's thunder in the distance, and you flinch.

Oscar looks to you. "Don't worry. That thunder is far off. We'll be home in no time."

You frown, not convinced. "Oscar, I don't know..." You tighten the hood of his jacket around your face.

"Hey," he says suddenly, meeting your eyes. Locking your eyes with his. "Don't worry."

"It's so rainy, Oscar... I'm raining so hard now..." you wipe a raindrop from your forehead.

Oscar seems to pick up your discomfort at the rain and fear of a potential lightning storm. He suddenly grabs your wrist (which gives you a bit of a rush) and pulls you up some stairs, so that you're standing under the overhanging roof of some closed business.

"Let's just wait it out here, then," he says simply, still not letting go of your wrist.

In fact, his hand just slips down a bit, so he's holding yours.

You stare at the ground. At your hands.

And you can't help but feel butterflies.

"Hey, uhm, Oscar?" you ask.

"Yeah?" he asks back.

But you don't know what to say, so you stay quiet, watching the rain with him.

"You're feeling okay?" he asks after a while.

You look up at him. Because of his jacket around you, you're mostly dry. His shirt is wet and hanging from him, and his wet hair is stuck to his forehead.

You reach up, and without thinking, ruffle his wet hair a bit.

He just laughs, saying, "What you doing?"

You shrug, smiling at him.

And then more silence. Other than the rain beating on every surface around you, there's not noise. Other than the two of you, standing here, alone but together, there is no one else around.

Suddenly Oscar says, "I've been thinking about something."

"What's that?"

"You."

You look up, just in time for Oscar to gently put his hand on your waist.

You blush bright red.

"You like me, don't you?" Oscar asks softly, searching your eyes for something.

"Y- Yeah..." you mutter, looking away from his eyes.

He smiles. "You're so shy. Look at me."

You force yourself to look back at him.

"How long?" Oscar asks. "How long have you liked me?"

You clear your throat. "Quite a while now. Like, years."

"Years?"

"Yeah... Like, since we were eighteen, maybe."

"Oh, wow..." he nods. Thinks for a few seconds. "I've been thinking about you and me lately. Like, you know. Us."

You blush at just that word.

Us.

It's something you want, and you have wanted for a while.

Suddenly he begins to whisper. "I've liked you for not as long... recently, I've just kind of realized, but I haven't been able to get it out of my head. I just... I love your hair, and your eyes... You're so pretty, and caring... I love your teasing and your sweet personality... You feel so perfect. Like, where would I be without you. You're just, like, the missing piece to my puzzle. It's like... like, all the sudden, I just kind of realized... it just kind of clicked..."

"What did?" you breathe.

He stares at you intently, not letting your gaze escape, even if it wanted to.

"The fact that I know that I love you."

Your mouth drops.

Your head swarms.

What? How?

You have always said you liked Oscar. You said you had a crush on him, and you'd love to date him. You'd say he's cute, and you get along with him. But never had you thought you needed him, or in someway, he was your second half. You never really thought you were actually meant for each other. Never had you though you would be someone else without him. Never had you...

Never had you even considered those words.

I love you.

He loves me, and he knows it.

Without a shadow of a doubt.

He smiles a little, his cheeks finally reddening a bit. "I guess I just figured, you know, today was the day to tell you. Celebrating my birthday and all, with you... Sorry it's raining, though. It would've have been nicer news if it were sunny, and I wasn't soaking wet, looking like a pathetic wet wild animal," he jokes.

You laugh out loud, still a bit nervous, but say, "I'd still like you, even if you always looked like a pathetic wet wild animal."

He grins a little, nodding. "I mean, you know. Maybe it would be a little bit more impactful on a lovely sunny day in Melbourne or somethin', sitting with you on a park bench, overlooking-"

You giggle. "Are you fantasizing?"

He blushes. "So what if I am?"

You grin. "Well, next time we're in Melbourne... you better bring me to the park and make that come true. Buy me some ice cream. Then we can go for a real walk, without having to go home halfway through because of a rain storm."

"And without having to stop because it gets too rainy, just for me to confess my love for you," he adds, still grinning back, but his eyes softening at the same time.

I grin and mutter, "I never imagined you to be the type to fall hopelessly in love."

"I'm not," he laughs, "but maybe you're just the type to do that to me."

"Well, maybe rainy London isn't so bad."

He chuckles. "Yeah. Maybe not."

Later, after you've made it back to Oscar's flat, you're sitting on his couch, waiting for him to finish changing into dry clothes and getting some snacks. He comes back in sweatpants and a hoodie, and sits down next to you, turning on some cricket on the television. He hands you the plate of snacks, and you both start munching as you watch the television, sitting a healthy-friend-distance away from each other.

But Oscar realizes this and says, "Come on, now. You can sit closer than that." He tucks his arm around your back, gently pulling you into him. You head naturally falls to leaning against his shoulder.

You smile and shut your eyes a bit, content. "This feels right," you tell him softly.

"Yeah," he breathes, "I agree. It does, doesn't it?"

"Oh!" you suddenly say. "I still haven't given you your birthday present yet, Oscar."

"Oh yeah..." he smiles, watching you.

You reach in the pocket of your jeans, pulling out a little box. You watch him nervously as he opens it and pulls out the bracelet. You say quickly as he studies it, "I know you're not really one to wear jewelry a lot like some of the other drivers on the paddock... But I thought maybe, just, like, a bracelet... to remind you of me... because... you know... I like, miss you when you're gone and stuff... I know it's dumb, but..."

"It's not dumb," he says immediately. It's a little leather woven bracelet, with your name on it, written in morse code.

He grins and slips it onto his wrist, pulling it tight. "This is so sweet. And thoughtful. I'll wear it every race weekend. All the time."

You giggle, leaning even more into him. "I like that. You're so sweet."

Suddenly, he gently takes your chin in his hand, staring deeply into your eyes. "Maybe we'll have to get you one, too, though, so we match."

"Yeah, with your name on it in morse code."

"Exactly... And, hey..." he strokes your cheek with his thumb. "Can I ask you something?"

You nod slowly, completely taken by the romantic look in his soft, brown eyes. "Of course."

"Mind if I kiss you?"

Your face flushes bright red, but you shake your head. "I don't mind at all."

"Good," he says, and leans in. And his lips meet yours.

#sports-on-sundays #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagines #f1 one shot #formula 1 #formula one #formula1 #f1 x reader #f1 fan fiction #f1 2023 #f1 2024 #f1 blurb #f1 drivers #f1 fandom #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 fics #f1 fluff #f1blr #f1 grid x reader #f1 imagine #f1 scenario #f1 x you #f1 blurbs #f1 one shots #f1 x female reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 imagine #f1 oneshots

[flwrstqr]

HIDE IT OR NOT? — 001 the beginning

SYNOPSIS: your father is practically full-on rivals with the sim corporations. ever since you were little, you remember your father and mother always mumbling about how "disgusting" they are and talking badly about them. after years pass, you attend the same high school and university. at first, the two of you hated each other's guts due to your parents' rivalry. but as years passed, you seem not to hate jake that much. soon, both of you had fallen in love with each other. but how could you tell your parents that you fell in love with their rival company's son?

𐙚 pairing: sonofceorival!jake x daughterofceofem!reader

genre: ceo au, university au, e2l, romance, fluff, angst, written series

⊹ ࣪ ˖ warning(s): party, mentions drinking, rivalry, grammar errors

taglist ! OPEN | send an ask or comment below

word count: 1.2K+

🗯 find this in my works in progress

SINCE THE 20TH CENTURY, the Sim Corporations and Celinea Enterprise, your father’s company, have been fierce rivals in the business industry. There has never been a time when your parents didn't criticize the Sim Corporations.

"Never speak or interact with anyone from that stupid Sim Corporation company, okay?," your mother cautioned as she adjusted your luxurious backpack, preparing you for your first day at a prestigious private school at the age of 5.

"Okay," you nodded obediently as she ran her fingers through your hair one last time, leaving a gentle kiss on your cheek.

"That's my little girl," she whispered before guiding you towards the waiting limousine. "Enjoy your day at school," she said with a wave as the driver closed the door and pulled away.

Arriving at school, you found yourself surrounded by groups of students already deep in conversation, leaving you feeling isolated and alone.

"Hi," a girl tapped your shoulder, and you turned to see a friendly face – Jiheon, around your age, with brown locks and a sprinkling of freckles.

"Hi," you replied timidly. "What’s your name?"

"I’m Jiheon, nice to meet you!" she said warmly, extending her hand. "What’s your name?"

"I'm YN LN," you smiled.

"YN LN? What a lovely name! Come on, let’s go play!" Jiheon exclaimed, taking your hand and leading you to the playground.

As you approached the swings, your favorite spot, you found a young boy already occupying it. His eyes were dark brown, and he had puppy-like features with fluffy, hazel hair.

"Excuse me?" you asked politely, hoping he would relinquish the swing.

"Huh?" the boy turned to face you.

"Could I have a turn on the swing? You can play in the playground. It’s empty," you suggested, trying to be accommodating.

"No, I want to swing. You go play over there," the boy insisted, his grip on the swing firm.

Disappointed but undeterred, you attempted to tug the swing from him, causing him to almost lose his balance.

"Hey!" he protested. "You could have hurt me! My parents are wealthy; I could sue you!"

"I don’t care!" you retorted, frustration bubbling up.

"Who even are you?" the boy demanded, shooting you a glare.

"I'm YN. Now, move," you asserted.

"I'll make sure you regret this. My father runs Sim Corporations," he threatened.

The word “Sim Corporation” seemed like a familiar word to you, but yet your 5 year old self couldn’t even remember. That’s when you remembered, the one thing that your mother educated you to avoid. No wonder why your mom told you to never interact with them, they were foolish stupid people. You backed off a bit and then yelled back, “Fine! You’re so childish and stupid!” 

Soon the yelling began for minutes until finally the teacher put you two apart. From then, you knew you wouldn’t be alone in peace for the next whatever years you were with him. 

HERE YOU ARE AT AGE 21, still in university, still with Jake Sim (great). Jake Sim, renowned as the popular "handsome" rich kid on campus, known for hosting parties 24/7 and earning dismal grades. And then there's you, the hardworking, intelligent, and attractive girl on campus, always studying for perfect scores on exams and rarely attending parties.

"Still sticking around in the dorms?" Jiheon asked, your best friend since you were both 5.

"Got to study for the big exam in 3 months," you sighed, pouring yourself another cup of coffee.

"Girl, it's months until that big exam. We only live once, so why waste it buried in textbooks? Besides, you're wealthy enough to have all the financial support you need," Jiheon remarked.

"If I'm going to inherit my father’s company, then obviously I have to put in the work to earn it," you replied, jotting down notes for your homework.

"Boring," Jiheon muttered.

"Fine, if you manage to surpass your previous exam score on this week’s test, I'll accompany you to a party," you proposed. Jiheon immediately perked up, her eyes widening with a grin spreading across her face.

"A party?" Jiheon beamed, "Any party?"

"Any party, but you have to excel on that exam this week," you added.

"Deal!" Jiheon exclaimed, darting off to her room to study. Plus, what were even the chances of Jiheon getting a score over 90% on the exam, especially a girl who loves to go out 24/7.

YOU WERE AT YOUR DESK, preparing to head to your next class when the front door burst open. Startled, you turned to see Jiheon panting by your room door.

"Y..YN.." Jiheon called your name, leaning against the door, visibly out of breath.

"What's wrong?" you inquired, raising an eyebrow.

Jiheon quickly approached and thrust a paper in front of your face, displaying the number "95%" written on the exam sheet. "95 percent! The highest I've ever scored since we started at this university!"

"95%?" you exclaimed in disbelief, not expecting Jiheon to achieve such a high mark.

"So... about our deal?" Jiheon smirked.

"Fine, I'll go to the party with you. But which party?" you asked, arching an eyebrow.

"I'll take you there," Jiheon winked. Perhaps attending one party wouldn't disrupt your entire schedule and studying routine?

YOU PULLED UP IN JIHEON'S CAR at a sprawling mansion, its exterior adorned with blazing lights that illuminated the night. The distant thump of music reverberated from the building's gates, signaling the vibrant energy within. Jiheon had yet to disclose whose party it was as you approached.

As Jiheon pushed open the door, a wave of alcohol-laden air and the cacophony of revelry engulfed you. Couples entwined in corners, their inhibitions drowned in intoxication, greeted your sight. The pungent scent of tequila made your nose scrunch up in distaste as you trailed behind Jiheon towards the kitchen, where the makeshift bar stood.

“YN! Jiheon!” a voice called out, drawing your attention to Ningning stationed by the counter. You hurried over and offered a quick wave.

“Didn’t expect to see pretty miss YN here,” Ningning teased, downing another shot of alcohol.

“Jiheon dragged me along,” you chuckled softly.

“Not surprising, considering it’s Jake Sim’s party,” Ningning remarked casually. Your eyes widened in realization. It was Jake's party? You immediately contemplated fleeing until another voice interrupted your thoughts.

“YN LN?” You turned to find Jay, Ningning’s boyfriend(or Jake’s best friend..), with a raised eyebrow. Next to him, Jake Sim – the last person you wanted to encounter.

“What brings you here? Thought you’d be studying or something” Jay inquired. 

“Jiheon invited me, so...” you trailed off, noticing Jake's intense gaze assessing you from head to toe.

“I see,” Jay remarked as he draped an arm around Ningning (ew happy couples). The scene around you was a blur of activity – the blasting AC, pulsating music, bodies swaying against each other. The scents of perfume, alcohol, and sweat made you feel lightheaded.

As Jay, Ningning, and Jiheon left quietly, leaving you and Jake alone, an awkward tension filled the space. You fidgeted with your fingers, wondering why he hadn't left yet. Shouldn't he be off somewhere, making out with some random girl by now?

To release the tension, you cleared your throat, "Aren't you going?"

“R-right…” Jake stammered, quickly retreating to the bar, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. Perhaps it had been a while since your last encounter, but there was definitely something different in the air.

AN: i started my first ever writing series au, i did write this piece for a while but since i wanted to release this quickly i decided to make this a small short written series. i hope u guys enjoyed the plot so far!! posting ep 2 <3

masterlist | next

#⊹ ࣪ ˖ hide it or not ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ #𐙚 nini works #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen masterlist #enhypen au #enhypen icons #sim jaeyun #jaeyun x reader #jaeyun fluff #jaeyun imagines #jaeyun sim #jaeyun smau #sim jaeyun fluff #sim jaeyun x reader #sim jaeyun imagines #sim jaeyun fic #jake enhypen #jake sim #sim jake #enhypen jake #enhypen x y/n #enhypen x female reader #enhypen x you

[daze4all]

Imagine:  Dan Feng gave Blade the lily Hairpin to hold up his hair and putting his hair up the same with pin triggers blade.

Hence why he wears the healer set but not the pin.

“The pin, you can keep it as reminder of me?” The water ripple to reflect two figure by the lily pond. When his hair was white, and a lily pin was placed in it to keep his hair out of his eye when forging.

“Flowers suit you more” He harrumphed as he twisted the delicate piece the crafted lily petals caching the light in his hands.  It tinged and sang  in his hands as parts clicked against each other.

“It could, soften your image maybe more people would  approach you” teased the Soft smoothly melodic calm voice from his memories. The robed figure behind him under the pagod of the waterlily gardens in the Xianzhou.

“Or remind them of my fleeting lifespan” he huffed grumpily. What use did blacksmith have of a hair ornament nonetheless he tried clumsiy to gather his hair to the soft laugh of his cmpain

“I won’t let that happen.” The eye and voice steady assuring him fooled with

 Confidence,  foolish , steadiness, reckless,  trust,  traitor.

Lover. Liar

“Here let me help you”   the pin is tucked in his hair swept but in loop on the side and takes root.

hOw doEs it lOok? Same voice but Muddled worried. Panic at the the voice distant. Pain shot through bright as the vision shattered the roots of taking hold and choking the mara setting in.

“He isn’t looking so good this might be the end…

hElp him!

Now spiderlily blooms and is  replaced the white with red and the madness raises its ugly head again.

The water rippled. And the lily pond drowned him yet again then dredged him to surface. To breathe again a life that was set to stop.

---

Imagine: Playing with Blade's Hair goes wrong....Funny version?

A simple updo from behind would make you thought pleased with your work as ou secured the side loop with pin so you could see Blade's handsome face and eyes once more.

“Hope do you li-" You barely managed to finish the sentence as Blade smashed the mirror as you tried to show his new do with him having recognized the old hairstyle immediately.

#renheng #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail #dan heng #yandere imagines #male yandere x reader #imbibitor lunae #hsr blade #yandere hsr x reader #yandere blade #angst blade #renfeng #dan feng #dan feng x yingxing

[wwinterwitch]

buy me presents — joel miller

summary: you and your ex situationship reunite at a christmas party

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

word count: 3.1K

tags: age gap (mid 40s and mid 20s), no outbreak, you fell hard and didn't know he fell harder bc he's an idiot!, miscommunication, angst, awkward reunion, everything gets fixed at the end tho don't worry, tommy is featured

note: i've been listening to fruitcake non-stop and i had this little idea that turned into an entire fic. it was kinda shitty at first but i decided to give it a try anyway

reblog or comment if you enjoy please!

all masterlists | pedro pascal masterlist

You always thought that going after older guys meant having absolutely no problems when it came to maturity and commitment. Guys your age are so good at playing games, keeping you guessing, too afraid to make it official.

So, evidently, when you met Joel at his workshop you were over the moon. He was charming, incredibly handsome and single. You still remember his attractive smile and the way he'd lean way too close to you, offering to fix the piece of furniture that you showed up with that day in exchange for a nice dinner and your phone number.

Everything looked good in the beginning. He was a true gentleman, so sincere and attentive, and you were foolish enough to believe he actually considered you special enough to pursue a relationship with you.

In your defense, he really tricked you. Showing you pictures of his daughter, taking you out on countless dates, interested to know as much of you as possible, texting non-stop...it was like a dream come true. After many terrible relationships with pathetic and insecure little boys, you found a wonderful man willing to give you exactly what you were craving.

But then everything changed after seeing each other for almost four months. Because he'd always get super defensive whenever you asked him why you always had to meet at your apartment and never at his house. Or why he refused to introduce you to his family. Or why he kept introducing you to people that happened to see the two of you together as 'a friend of his'.

Tired of this uncertainty, you decided to confront him. It was a very messy conversation. You asked what you were, he said he didn't know. You asked if he had any intentions of asking you to officially be his girlfriend, he said he probably wouldn't. You cried, he didn't know what to do about it.

You kicked him out of your apartment that day and that was the last time you ever heard of him. No texts, no calls, no one waiting outside your apartment or showing up at your work with a well-deserved apology.

Were you just stupid for thinking he was into you the way you were into him? Did you get your hopes too high a little too soon? Was there something wrong with you? Were you overreacting?

Yes, no, whatever– you wanted someone to go all the way with you, thought it was Joel, and he turned out to be like every other guy you've met. It sucks, but you gotta move on. You've dealt with a lot of shitty men to know better than to suffer for one.

The heartbreak Joel caused soon turned into a mixture of disappointment and annoyance before it turned into nothing but an unpleasant memory. Soon enough, Joel Miller was out of your mind, and you were more than ready to jump right in into the dating world again. Maybe it was pathetic, but you still refused to lose hope that the right guy will show up in your life and change things for the better.

You kept your options open for a while, not wanting to immediately rush into something like you did with Joel. If any of these guys you're seeing want to keep you to themselves, they'll have to put that extra effort. You're just tired of always chasing after them.

A whole month went by and you never heard from Joel again, which was completely fine by you. He doesn't even cross your mind at this point. He's probably spending all his hours at his workshop, keeping his nights free for his no-commitment dates. And probably getting ready for the holiday season too.

Christmas has always been your favorite holiday. There's something about it that cheers you up like no other festivity. Maybe it's the decor, the food, the fact that it's everywhere you look...it's always been a magical time.

You also love the parties and gatherings around this time of year, so you immediately agreed to be someone's date to one of them. You met this guy a few weeks ago– three years older than you, tall, dreamy eyes and great in bed. There was no reason as to why the two of you couldn't have a good time at this little party...or so you thought.

He casually mentions who's hosting on the way there. A friend from work, he said while offering you a hand to help you out of his car. His good ol' buddy Tommy Miller.

Your smile practically drops at the mention of that name, immediately going back to that date at the bowling alley. Joel bought a large portion of nachos to share after you completely beat his ass at bowling (he totally let you win, he said), remembering the way he talked about a brother named Tommy.

But...surely this is all a coincidence. The universe couldn't possibly hate you that much, right? At one point you almost thought you were crazy for even thinking of the possibility of this friend being the brother. There has to be a million Tommy Millers out there. It's such a common name!

What are the odds of this actually happening? That you're really going to Joel Miller's brother's Christmas party? And even if you are, that doesn't guarantee that you'll see Joel there.

And why should you care? You haven't spoken in so long, he probably doesn't even think about you when he hears something that could potentially relate to you. He doesn't think about the chances of reuniting with you for longer than a second. He surely doesn't think about you at all! You should give him the same treatment.

Holding onto your date's arm, you walked inside the impeccably decorated apartment. Red and white everywhere you look, with a large table filled with various snacks, a lit fireplace that gives the room a much cozier look, and a Christmas tree standing tall on one of the corners of the living room.

Tommy Miller was at the entrance greeting the two of you and enthusiastically introducing himself to you. Nerves were starting to overtake you because shit, there's definitely some resemblance.

Still, you tried to ignore your racing mind, wanting to have a good time with this great guy who's glad to keep you close to him, introducing you to all his friends in a manner someone should introduce their date. You feel important next to him, like he's really trying to show you off. Something Joel failed to do.

Eventually, you were able to relax when you got to meet everyone at the apartment and realized Joel wasn't there. With a beer in hand and a polite smile on your face, you joined a conversation by the fireplace, talking amicably and genuinely thinking the night was safe.

That is, until you heard the doorbell.

You watched Tommy walking towards the door, immediately opening his arms wide to receive whoever just arrived. When the stranger leans forward for the hug Tommy was offering, your smile completely fades when you notice it was none other than Joel.

He walks inside the apartment and leaves his jacket hanging by the door, taking a quick look around. You immediately turn around, not wanting him to recognize you– yes, it was stupid because he'll sooner or later notice your presence, but maybe you can avoid the awkward encounter for a few more seconds.

It takes everything in you not to turn around again, putting your hand on your date's back as you lean closer to him, trying to seek any kind of comfort you possibly could. He immediately wraps his arm around your waist, inevitably making you smile. God, this guy really knows how to treat you exactly the way you want it.

Unfortunately, Joel reaches the group of people you were talking to. He starts greeting everyone until his eyes land on you, standing there completely speechless for a few seconds before a smile appears on his face.

He leans forward for a quick kiss on the cheek as a way to greet you, and you barely move away from your date to return the greeting, moving back immediately to refugee on the guy's side.

"You two know each other?" your date asks. You almost wanted to kill him.

You stay quiet, deciding to leave Joel the responsibility to answer. It's genuinely intriguing to see what he has to say.

"Uh, yeah..." he starts, clearing his throat. "I think...you took a coffee table to my workshop for a repair?"

Wow. Glad to see things haven't changed in the slightest! Of course you two just met each other for a little repair. Of-fucking-course! It's not like he woke up completely naked next to you on your bed more times than you'd like to admit out loud.

"Yes. Exactly," you faked a smile, agreeing with his statement.

That was pretty much the only thing you said to each other. After greeting everyone he quickly joined a completely different group to talk to (because it's obvious he couldn't handle being close to you for much longer). You actually appreciated that, making the task of ignoring him until you left that apartment just that much easier.

Things went downhill when your date had to go to the bathroom and you decided to get another beer from the kitchen. You didn't notice Joel following you, and by the time you did realize, he was standing in front of the exit, blocking it entirely.

"Oh, hey, workshop guy!" you greeted with fake enthusiasm, sarcasm dripping from your words.

You hear Joel sigh, and as if that didn't piss you off enough he decided to open his mouth. "Yeah, I figured you'd get upset."

"Then why did you say it?"

He raised a brow. "What, you wanted me to tell everyone– your date included, that we were seeing each other like a month ago?"

The kitchen was completely silent after that. Perhaps he had a point there, but it was impossible to deny you were still hurt by the way things ended and how poorly he treated you, so that last thing you'd ever do is admit he's right.

"I thought perhaps now that it's done, you wouldn't care about keeping it a secret anymore," you shrugged defensively.

He smiles softly, seeing right through you. "Perhaps I've just never been the type to kiss and tell."

Again, you didn't have much to say, so you just scoffed. "Whatever."

Much to your irritation, he laughs. A low, deep chuckle escapes him before he's looking at you up and down. "You look good."

"I know."

Another chuckle. "Of course you do," he sighs, the smirk on his face fading. "You always look fucking incredible."

You stand there like a complete fool, taken by surprise when you hear him say that. It sounds so...defeated? Is that even a thing? As you try to come up with an answer to that, you just look back at him with a lost expression.

"Is there a point to this conversation?" you eventually ask.

Now it's him who's looking back at you in complete silence. Unfortunately, you know him enough to know there's something in his mind and he's not telling you anything about it. He's hesitating, doubting, the engines in his brain moving faster than ever.

For a moment, you thought he'd say whatever random bullshit he can come up with in that very moment and be done with it. And you'd roll your eyes because you know that's not what he wanted to say, right before moving him away from the door so you can go back to the party.

But in a surprising turn of events, he doesn't do that. He looks at you with nothing but honesty, and you even catch the smallest glimpses of hope when he speaks. "Yeah," he answers your question. "I've missed you like crazy."

If you were speechless before, it's almost impossible to even remember how words work right now. Never in a million years would you've expected Joel Miller to confess he misses you. Not when it was you who was always trying to arrange dates. Not when it was always you the one remaining him you really liked him and him barely saying anything back.

Maybe he just needed a wake up call? Had to live that 'you don't know what you've got until it's gone' type of situation to realize how he feels?

Your heart beats faster as you process his words. He's missed you like crazy.

Still, despite feeling so fuzzy inside, you show none of it on the outside. "No," you promptly warn him. "No, no. We're not doing that."

"What?"

"That, Joel!" you exclaim, frustrated. "You can't break my heart and then say shit like that when we happen to meet by accident."

"Is it an accident?" he asks shortly after.

You chuckle sarcastically. "Oh, so is this some Christmas miracle? The festive season brought us together because of some nonsensical fate-thingy that's written up there in the stars?"

Joel looks slightly embarrassed, letting out another frustrated sigh. Before he can answer, you hear footsteps down the hall that leads to the kitchen so the two of you stay completely silent and turn around to see who it was. 

"Hey...oh," Tommy says, his initial smile fading when he notices the tension between the two of you. He quickly raises both of his hands in the air as he walks towards the fridge to grab two beers. "Don't mind me, I just wanted to grab these," he quickly explains.

When he turns back around, he immediately focuses on his brother. At first he looked very confused, like silently trying to ask him what the hell is going on, a small smirk appearing on his face just seconds later. Without another word, he quickly makes his way outside the kitchen to give the two of you much needed privacy. You could feel your cheeks heating up after witnessing that little exchange.

Focusing back on you, Joel decides to continue the conversation. "Okay, if you put it like that of course it sounds silly..." he mutters, scratching the back of his neck. "But, I don't know, I’d like to think something out there wanted us to meet again so I could make it right."

"No," you repeat. "You had a chance to make it right as soon as I kicked you out of my apartment. There was a chance to pick up your phone and give me a call or send me a text or...anything, Joel– fucking anything!"

There's a brief pause, and you're so glad to see he has nothing to say because boy, oh boy did you have things to say.

"You don't get to come back a month later and claim to miss me when you didn't even try to get me back. And you were a real piece of shit with me, by the way. You really made me think we had something special, just to treat me like it was nothing," you continue, visibly upset by the incredibly uncomfortable and difficult situation he's putting you in. "You made me feel...you made me feel like I was some stupid little girl you only wanted to get into bed with."

He looks absolutely horrified by your last statement, taking a few steps forward until he's standing right in front of you. The proximity makes it so much worse, forcing you to look down at your shoes. He gently grabs your chin to force you to look into his eyes, and for some reason you allow it. Maybe you were vulnerable, maybe you wanted to feel his touch. Maybe both.

"I promise you, that was not my intention at all," he immediately assures you in the most serious voice you've ever heard coming from him. "It was never just that. I was really falling for you."

You frowned, feeling so incredibly confused and frustrated. "Then why did you never show it?"

"Because I was dumb and I was scared," he reveals simply. It surprises you how honest he's being, how you don't have to ask more to get information out of him. "You were the first woman I started developing actual feelings for after my divorce, and at the time I thought things were moving too fast between us and...I didn't know how to handle it."

Joel can tell you're still not having none of it, so he decides to continue. "I really wanted to be with you officially, but I guess my insecurities got the best of me. I'm just an old man and you're gorgeous, and young, and...Jesus Christ, darling, you're the most amazing person I've ever met," he sighs again, hoping you'd understand what was going on in his head when he made the terrible decision of letting you go. "I didn't want to fuck it up or get my heart broken again...but I totally did fuck it up, and the worse thing is that I broke your heart in the process. I'll forever be sorry for that."

You were speechless yet again, and Joel didn't know how to take that. Are you going to say something nice or are you going to yell at him and tell him to go fuck himself? The uncertainty was eating him alive at this point.

Eventually, you speak up. "You did fuck it up," you agree. "Like, big time."

He sighs yet again, nodding. "Yes, I did. And I know I don't deserve it, but I'd like to have a second chance to prove to you just how much I care about you," he continues, not giving up this time. He couldn't live with himself if he managed to lose you twice. "To give you all that you deserve, to be there for you, to show the world how happy I am that you're my girl...I'd make it right."

Letting go of your chin, he moves his hand to the side of your face, anxiously waiting for an answer. The fact that you're not pushing him away is already a good sign, because he knows you're capable of throwing a beer bottle at him for saying what he just said.

You considered your options. There's a guy outside in the living room waiting for you. There's a bunch of other guys on your phone that'd run to your doorstep if you give them the chance. All of them have behaved better than Joel...but you can't fool yourself.

Even if you combine all of them, there's no way that everything you've shared with them can come close to what you experienced with Joel. You've never liked anyone so much before, and holy shit how badly you've missed him.

If he thought your proximity was a good sign, the soft smile that appears on your face makes him relax considerably, almost wanting to pull you in for a hug and start thanking you already.

"I guess you can take me out to dinner or something to prove you're sorry," you eventually reply, making him grin from ear to ear. You notice he's leaning even closer with the intention of kissing you, but you quickly stop him. "Don't even think about it. You'll have to earn the right to do that."

Joel silently agrees to that arrangement, immediately taking a step back from you, the smile on his face never disappearing. He doesn't care that you're not kissing him right now, not when you agreed to give him a chance. That's more than enough for him. The best Christmas gift he could've ever received.

#joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller #pedro pascal characters #joel miller angst #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel x reader #Spotify

[ghcstao3]

Different first meeting soap/ghost please

They’re at a bar and Simon is being harassed so orders an angel shot or something Johnny overhears and steps into help him out.

Then they meet when they do in game and ghost recognises soap but soap doesn’t recognises him because of the mask.

Ghost is a lot more trusting of soap because he knows he actually is just that kind even to strangers.

Love your writing hope you have a good day

thank you ! :) and i hope this is alright i kind of got carried away with word count haha

cw for sexual harassment

-

For most of his adult life, Simon has recognized the fact that he is a large man. Tall and broad and imposing; if it weren’t for the learned skill of making himself small, it’d be quite difficult to ignore his presence in just about any room.

That being said, just because he’s a large man does not mean he’s overbearing, overpowering, disrespectful. But he knows he is intimidating more often than not, so why is it that the uninvited man in his booth only moves closer every time Simon denies another offer for a drink?

The man is smaller than Simon, though not by much. And logically, realistically, Simon knows he could win a fight if it came down to it. But he’d prefer no conflict, really—quite ironic for a military man—it’s just particularly difficult when he feels unwanted lips press against his neck, teeth nipping at sensitive skin that only seem to chase when Simon attempts to pull away.

A hand grips tightly onto his bicep to keep him in place as if he isn’t already cornered, crowded up against the wall with nowhere to escape to. Simon feels alone, small, and his mind churns with too few ideas of how to get out of this.

Another hand creeps between his thighs, and Simon can’t help the way his knee jerks in aversion, slamming painfully against the underside of the table as the man only laughs, his hot, putrid breath on Simon’s throat as he continues to purr various pet names that have Simon’s skin crawling.

He’d apparently been foolish to believe a man like himself could have a drink in peace.

The man is then dragging Simon out of the booth as much as Simon attempts to stay put, but the nails digging crescents into his skin threaten blood just as the falsely saccharine smile on the stranger’s face does.

Mercifully, Simon is not brought to the washroom, or some other dark corner in the establishment. He’s only brought to the bar for the moment, a drink he doesn’t want ordered, a vice grip still held on his arm.

But he must be owed some miracle by a higher power, when he’s granted just a brief enough window to put in another order, as the man turns to flirt with the woman in the barstool next to him like he hasn’t been attached to Simon for the better part of a half hour.

The bartender’s gaze flickers between him and his unwelcome company and her brow furrows, jaw set as she nods minutely with a mouthed promise to see what she can do.

Simon can only pray as minutes are fleeting.

*

John has had his eyes on the booth for quite a while.

At first, it was in admiration. A sort of pining for the ruggedly handsome stranger sitting alone in the booth, occupied by whatever thoughts danced about such a pretty head. John decides quickly that he could never approach the man, to scared to disrupt the stranger’s clear peace, the temporary reprieve that keeps his brow relaxed and jaw unclenched as he traces the rim of his glass.

Briefly, there’s a jealousy when another man slips into the both beside the stranger, burrowing into the man’s side with far too much comfort to not be intimate.

But that jealousy quickly melts away for anger, concern, fear. In his quick glances to the corner, John notices the clear look of discomfort on the stranger’s face as the other man claims the stranger’s space as his own. John sees the word no on the stranger’s lips more times than John is comfortable knowing, but he doesn’t know if he should interfere just yet.

Doesn’t know what consequences it might have for the stranger. So John holds back a little longer, shifting constantly in his seat as a quiet fury prickles at his spine, the instinct to jump into action growing by the second. He couldn’t just sit by and let it happen, hope that the situation resolves itself. He couldn’t.

And he doesn’t have to. Not as the stranger is pulled up to the bar, still tense and nearly as rigid as a statue. Not as John overhears him order an angel shot the first chance he gets, with only a single nervous glance toward the man beside him, as if he couldn’t easily overpower such scum without trying.

The bartender doesn’t reappear before the stranger is being dragged off again.

That’s when John intercepts.

He moves from his table and directly into their path, plastering on a smile in greeting like he hadn’t been keeping eyes on the situation for as long as it had been going on.

“Hey, it’s been forever!” John exclaims, bumping a fist against the stranger’s shoulder. “Thought I’d never see you again after you transferred units.”

The stranger forces a laugh, still visibly trying to pull away at the man that refused to leave him alone.

“It’s good to see you,” is the quiet response. Any other time and John might have melted into the low rumble of his voice, but he shoves that want away, deep down until it’s entirely subdued. It’s unfair to the stranger. “I—“

“Who are you?” The man—the offender—asks loudly, turning his nose up at John before peering past him like he’s wondering how easy it’d be to push John aside and continue being an asshole to the poor stranger.

“An old friend.” John keeps his voice pointedly neutral as he squares his shoulders, tries to make himself taller. “From the army. You wouldn’t mind if I steal him a moment, aye?”

The man narrows his eyes at John, hardly considering.

John adds, “Not every day I get to catch up with the best sniper I’ve met.”

If only he knew how close to the truth he was.

The man seems to shift a bit with the comment, almost like he’s uncomfortable with the thought of messing with someone of such qualifications. His grip must loosen, as the stranger finally wrenches his arm free.

“We’re… busy,” the man finally decides.

“Then I’ll sit with you.”

“I don’t know if—“

“Really.” John grits his teeth. “I insist.”

The stranger’s eyes dart between John and the man, throat working anxiously as he watches everything play out.

The man scoffs, finally stepping away entirely. “Fine,” he mutters. “Whatever.”

John doesn’t miss the breath of relief that escapes the stranger as he’s finally left alone. He doesn’t miss the slump of his shoulders, the shift in his stance. John smiles sheepishly up at him once the man is out of sight.

“I’m sorry about that,” he apologizes. He offers out a hand. “I’m John.”

Acceptance, a shake. The man’s own hand is warm, large, enveloping. “Simon. Thank you.”

John shrugs. “It’s the very least I could do, really,” he says softly. “I’ll walk you out?”

Simon nods, a subtle gratefulness in his face. He offers a reserved smile to John, and John thinks his knees go weak.

He leads Simon outside, few more quiet words exchanged before bidding farewell and safe wishes. Simon thanks him again before crossing the street and disappearing back into the city.

For the next few years, John would find himself wishing they could have met under different circumstances.

*

The sound of transport is loud in Ghost’s ears along with the hustle and bustle of men preparing to ship out for their next assignment.

Shepherd is in his headset with details of the mission, but Ghost can hardly be bothered—he’s already been briefed several times over. It’s a high stakes mission, after all.

Though, most if not all of his missions seem to be.

The general mentions something about a sergeant that’ll be joining Ghost, fighting under his command. Ghost hardly processes the introduction before said man is disembarking from a truck and marching up to the lieutenant.

Before said man bumps a fist to Ghost’s chest like he had however many years ago. Before John is smiling brightly at him and promising to save Ghost a seat.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Ghost mumbles, breathless.

But of course, John wouldn’t recognize him. Not with the mask and battle-hardened years. Not with anything more than a callsign to address him.

Ghost continues on his way. He can focus on this much, much later. When his job isn’t coming first. When his life won’t be in peril.

At least he knows he can place trust in the sergeant. Instinct tells him, even when he’s never seen John fight.

Instinct tells him, when he recalls the irony of the excuses John made to help him escape a bad situation. It had never been lost on him.

Ghost clears his throat, and slips into command.

*

Soap never expected the Ghost to be so kind to him when they begin working together.

The lieutenant doesn’t go easy on him, of course, but he isn’t nearly as standoffish with Soap as he is with everyone else. He doesn’t place nearly as much trust in others as he does Soap—barring someone like Price, of course.

Soap doesn’t expect to find himself nearly preening, knowing he’s some sort of exception, because Ghost is someone he admires like so few others.

Ghost doesn’t undermine him. Doesn’t chide him for biting back at authority, doesn’t dismiss his ideas or contributions.

He’s a good man, Soap learns, in spite of rumours. A very alive and human man, in spite of everything others claim.

He’s a man that, apparently, Soap had met years prior.

After betrayal, survival, and everything between, Soap learns this. Learns this as his new team crowds around a table as a new team is formed from the ashes of what they had all been. Learns this as Ghost tosses ski masks from a duffle onto the table and reaches for his own hard-plate mask and pulls it off, revealing mussed hair, pale skin and a litany of scars, and a face Soap never anticipated being so familiar.

And as Price is saying, “It’s good to see you, Simon,” Soap finds himself agreeing.

Then Simon is pulling a new mask over his face, and Soap finds himself thinking, swearing that they’d all better make it out of this thing alive.

He wouldn’t lose Simon a second time.

#ask #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #soap mw2 #ghost x soap #ghoap #soapghost #ghostsoap #writing