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#i think my brain will make me draw them like this

bloos-bloo · 3 days

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We’re so normal btw- I got some bishop designs that I plan on fixing later. I just had to get them out of my head lmaoo- ( All headcanons are based off my play through <3 )

Leshy is my little worm :D I love him so much- little guy living life. His main job is farming but he always tries to avoid the farm area- for some reason?? He used to have camellias grow all over his body, however his injuries kinda killed it, lmao.

I like to think that his crown helped him with his sight, but with it gone he relies more on scent! :D he totally judges Emery on how they run the farm is used- yep.

(GOD I AM REDRAWING HEKET- AAAAA-)

Anyways- Heket’s obviously the main cook despite her also avoiding the kitchen. If she doesn’t make the meals then everybody is getting sick. (I’m not kidding- that actually happened to me)

Heket’s crown also helped her speak, so with it gone she heavily relies on sign language or writing. (But for leshy’s case she writes on his palm)

She does have a smalllll- crush on one of the disciples (Pana) :) nothing bad happens, nope-

Kallamar is definitely special. Love and hate him. He’s supposed to be a doctor but he rather spend time at the tailors. I like to think that he hates the color red with a passion- so he remade his cultist clothing to match his aesthetics

He’s hard of hearing of course, so he relies on lip reading and sign language- something that Narinder totally abuses.

(AAAAAAAAAAAA-)

Shamura my beloved- I am sad for them. Shamura is a disciple for Emery along with Narinder. They try to give her all the knowledge they have. But often they’re in spells. (Their eyes give it away if they’re present or not)

With a literal open head wound I think Shamura would try to cover their head as much as they can. It’s a struggle for them to remember or even move around. So they’re always found inside their hut or in the middle of the floor somewhere-

Literal old person vibes, they rather sleep. Love them.

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houserautha · 2 days

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These Destined Ends

Part Twelve

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

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: goodbye to Giedi Prime, no foreplay, fucking with ✨a view✨

A/N: I was planning on making this a long(er) installment but my monkey brain needs the instant gratification of updating the story😂 Hopefully Part Thirteen will be up soon, too. Thank you for being patient with me!

Amongst the hustle and bustle of moving, servants rushing in and out with your belongings and Feyd barking out orders, you kneel down next to the synthetic plant. You check twice that no one is paying attention to you before reaching inside, running your fingers along the inner lip of the pot and past clumps of fake dirt. Finally you connect with something and a triumphant fissure erupts in you at the sight of the fertility necklace.

You clutch it in your hand.

While you don’t intend to use it, it’s the last link to your mother that you have. You can’t believe you almost forgot it — it seems like a small eternity since your wedding. You had almost completely wiped it from your memory since you hid it, remembering only because Jessica and the Bene Gesserits were at the forefront of your mind.

You drop the necklace into a pocket of your dress before anyone sees it.

“Do you know what today is, wife?”

You catch Feyd loping towards you, seemingly having forfeited his supervising responsibilities.

“Mm, the day we get a lovely chat with the Reverend Mother?” You ask, distracted by the weight of the necklace.

“Surely you haven’t forgotten.”

You blink, then center your focus on him, on the fleeting look of smugness he has. “It’s today.”

Feyd’s eyes glint. He pounds his fist to his chest three times, drawing the attention of the servants who stop what they’re doing and straighten in response. You wave them away, grabbing your husband by the crook of his elbow and pulling him into the corner.

“Must you insist on doing that so often?” You chide him. “We would already be on Arrakis if they didn’t have to keep pausing for you.”

The grin on his face tells you that he is not even the slightest bit apologetic. “Can I not dedicate servitude to my wife on our anniversary?”

“Our anniversary of one month,” you remind him.

“A perfect opportunity to laud you.”

“You can laud yourself over there to help that poor man.” You indicate a servant struggling with a particularly heavy trunk of belongings.

Feyd narrows his eyes. “He’s fine.”

“Feyd-Rautha.”

Your husband considers your tone, then turns and delivers another three-strike salute to his chest. He’s darting away before you can reprimand him for it, snarling for a second servant to help with the heavy lifting instead of himself.

Shaking your head, you can’t but smile privately. It warms you to see Feyd like this, the charismatic, alluring side of him that you so rarely glimpse. He usually deploys it in political situations, a switch that he can flick on at will, but it seems genuine today. Perhaps the anniversary of your wedding has lifted his mood in light of his brother’s engagement.

Either that, or the fact that the first step of your plan would be initiated today.

You liked to believe it was the latter.

It’s midday before you’re called to receive the Reverend Mother, and sweat beads between your shoulder blades. To calm your pounding heart, you think of Caladan: the spray of the sea against the rocky crags, the rare peal of your mother’s laughter, and how it all had been stolen from you by those like the Baron and the Reverend Mother. People who thought their agenda more important than the lives of those carrying it out for them.

Your vengeance keeps you sharp, your smile like a knife as you approach the Reverend Mother.

“Thank you for meeting with me earlier than we planned,” you greet her.

She replies, “You said it was urgent, though I sense that, once again, your womb is empty.”

“Yes,” you say, stifling the urge to choke her with those stupid chains. Hopefully the saccharine tone of your voice does not betray your inner thoughts. “I called you here for a related reason.”

“And what might that be?”

“You were wrong about Feyd-Rautha.”

The Reverend Mother visibly recoils. “Tell me what’s on your mind now, girl, I do not have the time for your vague accusations.”

“How do you truly know that he’s destined to sire the Kwisatz Haderach? He is…unpredictable,” you say. “Perhaps your calculations are wrong. It could explain why I am not yet pregnant.”

“Does he know you voice this concerns?” The Reverend Mother asks with a sniff.

Your lips press together. “Of course not.”

“Keep it that way. Feyd-Rautha is just as destined to sure the Kwisatz Haderach as you are to bear it from your womb.” You can feel her scrutiny from under her decorated veil. “You were defiant before about your arrangement. Why are you questioning his authenticity now?”

“As you remember, you assessed me under the Gom Jabbar. Feyd-Rautha has had no such assessment. What if he were to fail?”

The Reverend Mother considers this. “You suggest that we test him.”

“Yes.”

“Do you believe him likely to succumb?”

“I don’t know what I believe,” you reply, “only that his capabilities have not been proven by your standards.”

“You speak as if this is an oversight on our part,” the Reverend Mother says, rising to her feet. A bolt of uncertainty shoots through you.

“I mean no offense. I am simply voicing my concerns, as you said.”

“You leave soon for Arrakis?”

“In a few hours.” You try to look sheepish. “You can see why I demanded urgency.”

The Reverend Mother doesn’t immediately reply. You’re not sure what she sees when she gazes upon you. When she finally does speak, her voice is begrudging: “I shall see that Feyd-Rautha is tested by the Gom Jabbar, though I hardly think it necessary to facilitate now.”

“But what if he fails? I am wasting my time with him,” you counter, perhaps too quickly.

The Reverend Mother must mistake the haste in your voice for panic. “I will visit you on Arrakis in one week. We shall test him then.”

You dip your chin, acquiescent. “Thank you, Reverend Mother.”

The Reverend Mother has no sooner left before Asha scurries to you, her eyes wide. “I overheard everything. It won’t be ready by then.”

“It has to be.”

After your disconcerting dinner with the Baron, you made it your top priority to mend things with Asha. Albeit, less messy than your reunion with Feyd. Asha was only too quick to forgive you and gush her own apologies, which you reassured were not necessary. You had explained to her the plan you created with your husband that very night, while lying side by side in bed, voices whispered, his fingers dragging across your skin.

You had uttered plans to destroy his family like they were sonnets of a poem, threaded with love and unwavering devotion.

Asha, of course, eagerly agreed to assist you with the plan.

“These things, it takes time, and without having an actual reference —”

You lower your voice as not to be heard by anyone lingering nearby. “Tell them I will double their pay. It must be delivered to me on Arrakis in a week’s time.”

“Okay.” Asha hardly looks convinced.

“The promise of coin is an excellent tonic for idleness,” you say. You allow a small smile. “I wish it would change your mind.”

You had invited Asha to join you on Arrakis but she had swiftly declined, ever after you swore a higher salary. You would do anything to guarantee her company.

“I belong here, Y/N,” Asha says, “I know it must be difficult to believe. I imagine you felt the same about Caladan.”

You stiffen slowly. Oh, how lovely it must be to make your own decisions and live where you choose. Subconsciously, you know you could order her to join you and she would have no choice but to say yes. But you would not sacrifice her happiness for your own. “I understand.”

“Are you…disappointed?”

Feyd glances at you. You both stand in the whirl of a thopter’s wings, the force of it billowing your skirts and the red scarf you’ve draped over your head and shoulders in preparation for Arrakis. Your hand sits on your forehead like a shield for the sun — the last time you would see it, a dark, unblinking eye in the white sky.

The light casts Feyd in sharp contrast.

“What do you mean?” He asks.

“This…is your home,” you say, “will you not miss it?”

As if prompted by your question, he surveys the barren landscape, factories belching smoke in the distance as servants finish preparing your things for space flight. You think that he might not answer when he eventually says, “This place has always been more prison than home. I will be glad to rid myself of it.”

You want to reach out and grab his hand, but it feels wrong in this instance, when you wear your mantles of na-Baron and na-Baroness like armor.

Instead, you take to inspecting the same land that your husband does. You can’t even imagine the horrors he’s experienced here. And, unlike you, with your life scattered across several planets, Feyd had only known Giedi Prime — its cruelty and hardships and penchant for violence.

Though Arrakis is hardly a paradise, you hope he will find reprieve there.

“I can’t believe I’m going back,” you mutter. Your throat thickens. “And my parents won’t be there. I…I didn’t imagine it would be like this.”

“A soldier who dies in battle holding a weapon is guaranteed a place in the Heavens. If they were anything like you, they died fighting.”

You smile, blinking appreciatively at him. “I didn’t know you were religious, Feyd-Rautha.”

“I have little care for the Orange Catholic Bible. But there is comfort in knowing that there might be sanctuary for those who have spent their lives in battle.”

“Like you?”

You’re not sure what prompts you to ask it, but he turns sharply to regard you. His eyes scan your face, then the slightest of smiles graces his lips. “I’m afraid that there is no sanctuary for someone like me, jewel, but you’ve certainly ruined me by giving me a taste.”

Your chest tightens with emotion. You want to respond but it’s then that you’re beckoned over to the thopter. Feyd’s gaze flickers behind you and the moment is lost. “Be quick, wife.”

Be quick?

A pair of arms circle around you, making stumble. You automatically lean into their embrace while Feyd retreats to give you time to say goodbye, though you hardly notice with the tears springing to your eyes and blurring your vision.

You’re loathe to leave Asha here. She clings to you tightly, and you know that she wishes it could be different.

“You will come visit,” you tell her fiercely.

Asha withdraws an inch. “Of course.”

“And you will send me monthly — no, weekly updates.” You give her a stern look. “You will spare no details. I command you as your na-Baroness.”

“I suppose I have no choice then.”

You grin at her. “No you do not.”

Asha draws you in again, then whispers, “Your promise of coin worked.” She recovers, saying louder, “Now go. The na-Baron looks anxious for you to join him.”

“Thank you, Asha. For everything. You are my dearest friend.”

Asha offers you one last smile then bows to you. Aware that half of the fortress is watching, you spin on your heel and make your way to the thopter, to your na-Baron, and to your uncertain future.

“I can’t say it’s good to be back,” you report dryly as the heighliner descends. The expanse of desert stretches out before you, Arrakeen, shield wall visible just on the horizon. It shimmers slightly in the low lighting, duel suns casting a glow as they prepare for nighttime.

You’re escorted by a horde of Harkonnen soldiers in their all-black armor through a crowd of Arrakis natives. The handful of Fremen are easy enough to spot with their blue-on-blue eyes — you think them to be hostile of you, considering your Harkonnen marriage, but most regard you with curiosity. As you pass, you hear a rumbling in the crowd that you catch snippets of:

“…the Holy Mother of the Kwisatz Haderach…”

“I hear she’s no Bene Gesserit witch as they claim.”

“…does she already look pregnant to you?”

It displeases you, these vast speculations, but do your best not to reveal it. The truth of your education is not widely known. You were a shameful blot on the tapestry the Bene Gessrits have woven, and instructed by your mother upon first arrival on Arrakis not to tell anyone.

The prophecy foretold you to be part of the sisterhood, so that was the facade you upheld.

A Fremen woman twists free from the crowd. You’re too stunned to push her away before she lays a hand on your lower abdomen. Her blue-on-blue eyes shine vibrantly.

“I have touched the womb of the Holy Mother,” the woman says in a tremulous voice, “the womb which will bear our sacred Messiah.”

You stare, open-mouthed, as two Harkonnen soldiers grab under her arms and drag her away, still spouting heretics about your womb. The last you see of her is her feet dragging in the sand as she’s sucked into the crowd. Unease travels across your skin like goosebumps despite the stifling heat; you’re grateful to have worn the headscarf, as it hopefully masks your alarm.

“I should’ve had her hands removed for daring to touch you,” Feyd hisses under his breath.

He glowers the remaining way to the Arrakeen palace. It’s difficult to say if any of the remaining Fremen are eager to replicate the scene, but they’re surely discouraged now by your husband.

“That would’ve reflected poorly on us,” you say.

“I don’t care.”

You bump arms with him, stepping closer as not to be overheard. “You cannot blame them for their exuberance. They have been manipulated by the Bene Gesserits for centuries now. They believe our child to be their savior.”

A look of discomfort crosses Feyd’s face but he elects not to respond. Together you’re admitted through the airtight entrance into the palace, which is promptly sealed again. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust but when they do, you’re rooted to the spot by confusion.

The palace is exactly the same. You’ve memorized it from your long days stuck inside, but the decor and furniture are completely different. You suppose you expected to see it mostly the same, perhaps ransacked or destroyed, a standing tomb from the life before — not this, a space crafted entirely new.

The Harkonnen soldiers dispatch, probably to sweep for spies, leaving you alone with Feyd for the first time since your exchange with the Baron.

Your brows furrow as you say, “I don’t understand.”

“I hope it’s to your approval.”

“You did this?”

“I thought it would make the transition…easier,” he tells you. “Everything that was salvageable has been taken to a storage vault for safe keeping in case you later feel so inclined to see it.”

Gratitude swells inside you. “The entire palace?”

Feyd indicates for you to continue onward. He trails after you as you explore the halls, amusement etched on his face as he observes you peeking into each room for confirmation. It’s only once you’ve reached the bedroom meant for the man and lady of the house that he stops you.

“I’ve deigned to move our personal belongings to the next biggest suite,” he says, “this room is considered off limits.”

Relief washes over you — you won’t have to stay where your parents slept, where your mother would venture nightly from her quarters to slip under the covers with your father. Your throat thickens. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say nothing.”

His gesture moves you deeply, but it’s hard to miss the streaks of residual lasgun burn marks on the walls, the unfamiliar servants now in your employ. And you’re not sure if it’s your imagination or not but you sense a heaviness within the palace as if the weight of the deaths press on you from all sides.

The intricate care taken to packing your belongings is now undone over the next few hours. At least here everything is in color and there’s a human warmth that was always lacking on Giedi Prime. You sneak glances at Feyd on occasion to gauge his reaction, but he maintains his casual indifference to it all.

It would be impossible to tell if he’s masked his feelings or if he really doesn’t care. Either way, relief loosens your mind when night descends and the servants are sent away to rest, leaving you alone with Feyd. There are no pretenses you need to hold — not that it would matter if you tried. His attention is already fastened to you, analyzing.

“Let me help you out of your dress,” he offers in his rasping voice.

You obey, turning your back to him so that he may untie the laces running up your spine. You suspect that he would normally make quick work of such a task, it’s not like he’s unfamiliar with the process, but his fingers are clumsy, grazing. Feyd crowds close to you, his mouth hovering over the shell of your ear.

“Did everything go as planned?”

You nod, humming. It’s hard not to get distracted with him near you like this. “Yes. She will be here next week to assess you.”

“Perfect.”

“It truly could not have gone better,” you admit to him with a splash of self-satisfaction.

He drops a kiss to your bare shoulder as he eases the dress down over it. “I was talking about you, jewel.”

Twisting, you meet his mouth with yours. Feyd’s hands instantly grab at your waist and spins you the rest of the way until you’re pressed together. You allow the dress to slide down and pool at your feet, which you step out of as Feyd pedals backward, taking you with him. His kiss grows deeper. Attempting to take the lead, you tug him towards the bed, but Feyd has other ideas.

“No, no, come here,” he rasps. Like the tide eroding the sand, you let him guide you to the floor-length window. The glass against your skin is still warm from the twin suns.

“Here?” You gasp into him.

Feyd is too busy discarding his own clothes to answer immediately. “Let all of Arrakis see their na-Baroness,” he murmurs, mouth reuniting with yours with renewed passion.

His touch coasts down your side to your thighs, lifting you so that you can settle your legs around his waist. The vantage point giving your center access to his hardened length. Your body bows in response to him, ribbons of desire reaching out to capture you, binding you to him.

It’s without warning that Feyd drives inside you. He grunts as his cock splits your cunt, walls protesting at his size, the force of his intrusion. You bite down on his shoulder as pain intertwines with pleasure, muffling your cries until his thrusts have thoroughly slickened you. And Feyd never relents, bucking his hips into you with wild enthusiasm.

You’re not sure how it’s possible but every touch — every thrust, every kiss — catapults you to the edge of a precipe from which you willingly step over, languishing in the free fall. Someday you might hit the ground, but that doesn’t frighten you as it should. You would do it over and over again as long as he was the one to bring you there. All things considered, it was his hands pushing you off the ledge, prompting you to fall, to spiral down into the chasm he created — and his hands who ultimately catch you.

Feyd eventually lets you back down on your feet only to twirl you around again. His arms snake around you, hands cupping your breast. You moan as he pinches your nipples, rolls them between his fingers, his breath hot on the side of your neck. Feyd wastes no time returning his cock to your weeping cunt, using his knee to spread apart your legs.

It feels as if you can see all of Arrakis from here as Feyd pummels into you: the cresting desert beyond the city, the shield wall, lights flickering in the distance. You wonder if anyone can see you now, make out your blurred shape high above them getting properly fucked by the man who rules over them. The thought fills you with molten heat, pulsing over you in waves of pleasure as you imagine an audience to your fucking.

Feyd laughs like he knows this. “What shall we say when our people discover their na-Baroness is a whore?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you pant, “you’d kill anyone who even hints at it.”

He snaps his hip to you, grunting in approval.

It’s not long after that he coaxes your final orgasm from you, coming himself soon after. The lights of Arrakeen merge, brighten, as you unravel beneath him; the subsequent bliss of him coating you with his seed. Once he’s wrung his pleasure from you, he pulls you against him, your back flush with his chest. You stay like that for quite some time as you both catch your breath, looking out over the planet you inherited together.

“It’s all ours,” Feyd rasps.

“What an anniversary gift,” you reply, grinning as you watch him in the reflection of the glass.

“If you asked of it I would gift you the entire Known Universe.”

“I know,” you tell him. “Maybe next month.”

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#feyd rautha #feyd x reader #dune #feyd x you #fanfic writing #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd smut #writers on tumblr #writing #fanfic #these destined ends

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tojiscumdumpster · 22 hours

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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - TOJI

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀✧ summary page

Zen’in Chiaki. Sixty-three. Location is in Okinawa, Japan… Reason for kill–tampering of legal documents within the company…

The more I read this shit, it doesn’t make sense to me. A Zen’in being targeted for fucking with documents? I have no fear when it comes to those fuckers, but I don’t think anyone would be reckless enough to get themselves involved with that family.

My time there had me witnessing the most gruesome shit whenever someone tried to interfere with their affairs, so anyone without guts would even try to take them out. Now I’m reading a contract with a sixty-three-year-old woman that’s on their shitlist for tampering?

Something’s not adding up, especially when the woman appears to be from that family.

Zen’in Chiaki? That name doesn’t ring a bell. Don’t remember my old man having any aunts, and all his siblings are men. Could she be a cousin? A wife? I have no fucking clue. But I need a more detailed reason why she’s being targeted to kill because I just don’t go around sniping old ladies for the hell of it.

Is this why Kong was up my ass about taking this contract? Because the person is a Zen’in? Does he think I want to take revenge on those fuckers who abused me and the ones who witnessed it? Maybe if I didn’t have Megumi, I’d find pleasure in this. However, I can’t take that risk and do anything that could possibly fall back on my kid.

Just when I was about to close the folder and call Kong to reject this contract, something in her file grabs my attention.

Target had relations with several members of the Zen'in Family.

“What the fuck…” That’s what this is? They want to kill some broad they all slept with? So she’s definitely someone’s mistress. My guess is she’s not actually from the family and was married into, and probably slept around for money.

Maybe now they’re not giving her what she wants, she went into tampering, they found out, and now they want to wipe her out.

That’s the only thing that makes sense. Some shit Kong got me into, but still–why does he want me to take this?

Pulling out my burner phone from my locked desk draw, I speed dial Kong to get a clear answer. Because at this point, I’m tired of the vague crap.

“Fucking pick up. I know you’re not asleep…” I mutter to myself. Most likely the fucker is up and smoking cigarettes yet the line is still ringing. “You got to me kidd–”

“Oh, fuck yes.” Did this… motherfucker really answer the phone while he’s balls deep in some woman? “Fushiguro–calling so late. Did you miss me?”

“You couldn’t get your dick together before answering the phone?”

He deeply sighs followed with a chuckle. “Can’t have my lover waiting for me.”

“Cut the crap. It’s about the file. Get the girl out the room or go somewhere private you can talk,” I say firmly.

“Ah, so you’ve finally read it. You’re going to take it. Yeah?”

“Why’d you give me this shit? Who’s Chiaki Zen’in?”

I hear him light a cigarette and take a puff. “That’s not my family, Fushiguro. How the hell am I supposed to know?”

“Because you gave this to me! Now I definitely feel like you’re trying to set me up.”

“Fushiguro, get your fucking head out your ass and use your brain for once. What benefit do I get for setting you up?”

I shrug. “Money.”

“Like I don’t have plenty. It actually hurts that you don’t trust me as Megumi’s godfather.” Again with the banter because I know Kong loves messing with me.

“Fuck off.”

“And plus, I value my life. You’re a crazy son of a bitch. I know my place.”

At least he knows.

He continues, “Look—I think you should take the contract. It might help you get the answers you’re looking for. You don’t have to kill the lady, but maybe she knows something about what actually happened to your wife.”

I arched my brow. “And how would she know?”

“That’s why you fucking ask, genius. If Naoya overheard them talk, there’s a possibility she could’ve as well,” he says. “If she was a mistress, then they might’ve talked around her without realizing she’s listening. Take the contract, go find her, and get answers.”

Kong does have a point.

Since that Zen’in fuck insinuated my old man had something to do with my late wife’s death, I’ve been losing sleep to do further digging, and have Kong do the same.

Asking my father or uncle directly won’t do anything because I know they’ll just lie. And quite frankly, if I ever see them again, I’d probably just beat them both to a pulp. So maybe seeing who this Chiaki Zen’in woman is would help me get the answers I need.

The convenience of this contract is that it’s due in three months—around the time I’m flying to Tokyo. What an interesting fucking trip this will be.

“Alright. I’ll take it.”

three weeks later…

“Y/N, where… are… we?”

Alright—when Y/N said to take the day off because we’re going on a date, never did I expect for her to take us to a Formula One track race. Especially to a race that I thought was fucking sold out.

And the craziness thing is—I never mentioned wanting to go, so how did she know?

Is this the fluffy shit they talk about in relationships? Remembering what your partner enjoys to make them happy? Because when it comes to Y/N, I’ll do whatever just to see that pretty smile on her face.

Just don’t expect that to happen to me, though. Simply ‘cuz I’ve never experienced it. But since I made Y/N mine a little over a month ago, she’s gotten me used to certain shit.

Dates. Skin to skin contact in bed. Fucking self care routine that involves this retinol concoction I still don’t understand but visibly see the difference it does to my face.

And to top it off, making videos together where we dress up in coordinating outfits before we go out. All of this shit is foreign to me, yet…it feels damn good.

For the first time in a while, life isn’t too bad. Me and Megs are pretty decent, and now my relationship with Y/N. . . I have nothing to complain about.

“We’re at a Formula One—” Before she got the chance to respond, I crashed my lips against her to show my fucking appreciation. Her stiff nature shows she’s shocked at my sudden kiss, but she immediately relaxes in my embrace and the moment I grip her ass.

Those soft moans always taste the sweetest when we’re out in public, and Y/N must’ve forgot I have a exhibitionism kink.

“I know where we’re at, Y/N.” I look into her eyes, hoping my own conveys how I feel at this moment. With how she’s smiling at me, I’m sure it does.

She’s so fucking pretty. Don’t think I’ll ever get over that.

“Easy, big guy. I see the look in your eyes,” she teases. “We have the whole day together.”

I kiss her cheek before grabbing her hand to walk toward the stadium. “You’re wearing that tiny ass skirt around me and expect me to behave?”

“Toji—I could be wearing a cheese suit and you’d still want to fuck me.”

I throw my head back and chuckle. “Glad you know me, sweets.”

She nods with a smile. “I do.”

“How’d you get these tickets anyways? Tried to get them myself and they fucking sold out in a minute.”

“Your girl has some connections. Meaning, I know a guy.”

I raise a brown in concern. “Hope it’s not any exes.”

“No, baby,” she says through a giggle. “One of my students' older brothers, who I happened to be acquainted with, gave me his tickets.”

“Willingly?”

“You should know how charming I could be, Mr. Fushiguro.”

I shake my head. “Trust me. I know.”

She wraps her arms around mine and leans against me. “I’m excited, TJ. I’ve never been to a Formula One race before.”

“They’re pretty cool. Just here to bet some money, though.”

“Should I be surprised?”

“Nope,” I responded with an exaggerated pop sound.

“Well, I’ll just be the pretty girlfriend who asks a thousand questions.”

Being with Y/N is starting to feel like second nature to me. Her presence is so damn addicting and I know I’ll never grow tired of it.

Almost like if I keep spending time with her, these memories I’ve been having lately will start making sense. The shit is weird, and I don’t believe in anything… but I do believe in Y/N. I believe she’s it for me. And say if we don’t work out. . . Well, I’ll keep trying until we do.

Please, don’t leave me. That voice keeps echoing in my head, and I can’t help but think it’s Y/N.

I won’t, I respond internally.

“. . . Baby, you’re okay?” A soft, concerned voice overlaps my thoughts, reminding me I’m with Y/N.

“Y-Yeah, my bad, sweets.”

“You’ve been doing a lot of zoning out lately,” she says, brows slightly dipping. “You sure everything’s okay?”

“Positive,” I lied, not wanting her to worry.

She looks like she doesn’t believe me, but decides to drop it, which I’m grateful for. “Okay,” she replies with a soft smile.

Eventually we found our seats just before the race and I find myself itching to place bets with the fuckers around me. Never can pass up an opportunity to make extra cash.

“. . . it’s round one of the Formula One season of . . .” The commentator blares throughout the stadium with intros of each racer and all the other shit they say before the race begins.

Courtesy of whoever this person gave Y/N the tickets, our seats are pretty damn good. But, of course, the best view of the stadium is my girl sitting next to me.

The best view of the stadium is my girl sitting next to me. Wow, how fucking corny did that sound? I’ve been turning into an all time sap ever since I’ve seen Y/N for the first time. It’s not like I give a damn.

Told myself I want to be better for her because quite frankly, a fucker like me doesn’t deserve a girl like Y/N. And it’s not like I’m trying to convince myself of it either, but I’m known to be the Zen’in fuck up. The unlovable child. The accident. . .

Why don’t you understand that I love you?

Every time I even think for a second about all the fucked up shit my old man said to me, that familiar voice pops up in my mind.

However, I didn’t get a chance to think about it any longer.

Y/N’s plush lips were on mine, rewarding me with a kiss that brought me back to reality and rushed arousal to my cock. But still…it managed to be soft…longing…reassuring. . . The kiss put words in my mouth that felt weird for me to say.

It’s like she knew I was thinking about some shit that had me internally spiraling, though, rather than asking, she gave me a kiss that dispel any negative thoughts lingering inside of me.

“Hi, big guy.” Her voice is filled with tenderness, barely above a whisper when she looks at me with those eyes that say it’s okay.

Something I probably need to hear.

“So, how much do you usually bet on these games?” she asked, changing the topic from where my mind was.

“Depends, but Formula One races are usually filled with rich fuckers, so I bid higher.”

“. . . And this is the track we’re racing on today—fifty-eight laps. Three point two-eight miles per lap. . .”

Thirty minutes later, and the race starts. But honestly, I barely gave a damn about the race or betting since I was more invested in listening to Y/N’s commentary.

If it wasn’t her being concerned about the drivers crashing into the mountain of tires, it was her telling me how hot I’d look in the driver’s gear.

Her words. Not mine.

Whenever I was into the race, yelling at the track like a maniac because I eventually placed bets, she was right there with me—shouting like she placed bets.

Where I was serious, she took it as race shit talking.

Couldn’t believe this, but I was actually having… fun.

Fun.

Fuck, that’s another word that feels weird to say.

It’s the truth, though. And it’s all because of Y/N.

Kind of wish the kid was here with us, but I haven’t grown balls big enough to tell him I’m with his reading teacher. Seeing how my mood is with her, if I had him here, too, I knew I would be the cheesiest motherfucker in the world.

“Toji, be honest,” she starts, dragging me from my thoughts. “Do you actually ever win your bets?”

“Fuck no.” And something about my answer had Y/N bursting into a fit of laughter. “Damn, didn’t know me losing money was that funny to you.” I acted like I was offended, but she knows I wasn’t.

“Because the driver we're rooting for is losing, baby.”

I shrugged. “Nothing wrong with an underdog.”

“It is when you’re not profiting off the underdog in question,” she argues.

“Fair point.”

She sighs before standing up. “All this yelling has me needing the restroom, and I’m hungry. I’ll be right back.” She gets up, purposely stopping to where her ass levels with my face, and I know the exact shit she’s trying to pull.

“Okay, Y/N,” I simply say.

She giggles. “You want anything, babe?”

I shook my head, but pulled out cash to give to Y/N before slapping her ass, earning a yelp and pervert, from her while watching her walk away.

Definitely fucking her when we get back home.

This day couldn’t get any better. From the bullshit at work to this contract Kong finally got me to sign weeks ago, I didn’t realize how much I needed a day of me and Y/N.

Seeing how our conversations have been lately, she probably knew something was up with me, which technically, there is.

Just haven’t had the chance to tell her.

Don’t know if I will.

I mean, how exactly do I fucking bring up my family possibly had something to do with my wife’s death, and I’m taking a contract to find out more? Not happening.

Can’t have her thinking I’m full of shit and been lying to her the entire time. Can’t risk Y/N freaking out and potentially calling the cops. Can’t risk…

Losing her.

It’ll be a cold day in hell before I let that happen. Yeah, I talk down on myself and say how much I don’t deserve Y/N. But I’m a selfish son of a bitch.

Even when I know I shouldn’t have something (or in this case, someone) I’ll take it anyway. That’s just who I am.

A buzzing sound in my pocket gets on my fucking nerves and several missed calls and text messages from Kong.

And besides, I didn’t feel the damn vibration until now.

“What the…”

Here’s here. Here’s here.

I waste no time speed dialing Kong and maneuvering out the crowd to somewhere I can what the fuck is he talking about.

“Finally—”

“Speak,” I cut him off after he answered the phone. “Now.”

“I’m at the bar near the condo I’m renting and some geezer comes up to me and tells me to give you his regards,” Kong explains. “I’m wondering who the fuck is he. Then, I realized he reminds me of someone. You, Fushiguro.”

This has to be some kind of sick twisted joke.

The kind I don’t find fucking funny.

Twenty years. I have seen that bastard in over twenty years, and somehow he reappears in the city I came to start a new life in. Of all places.

The first person that comes to mind is that Zen’in brat that was adamant about having to do shit when that family, and now all of a sudden my old man is fucking here. That little shit is his eyes. I knew I couldn’t trust that motherfucker for a reason.

Pissed isn’t even the word to describe how I feel. I’m furious. My blood burns with rage and at this moment, if anyone even looks at me wrong, I’ll bash their face in picturing my old man.

You unlovable child.

Your mother should’ve aborted you.

Go in the street and die. Like I care.

You’re useless. You’re useless. You’re useless. You’re useless. You’re useless. You’re useless. You’re useless. You’re useless. You’re useless. You’re useless. You’re—

“Fushiguro!” Kong yells. “Are you fucking listening?”

No.

And it’s not like I can right now.

“Text me what you said. I have to go.” I hang up and throw my phone back in my pocket. I need to go. Now. I need to find—

“Y/N.”

Shit, my head was so far up my ass, I forgot she went to the bathroom and concession stand.

I peek over to find our empty seats, leaving me to believe Y/N hasn’t come back yet. So my next move was to rush near the restrooms, asking different women who’s coming out did they see a beautiful, dark skin woman with the additional description I gave them.

Some answered no, and others were too busy ogling like I would a fuck about their attention.

The concession stands were next, and it’s not helping that there’s damn near hundreds of them on this floor alone.

I know Y/N is fine. Probably just waiting in line to buy food. It’s just… I can’t be here right now. My lungs have grown tighter and it’s been harder to breathe since Kong told me about my old man being here.

I’m forty-two. It’s been a little over two decades. Shouldn’t be triggered by this shit anymore. I’ve forgotten. I don’t care. But that little weak boy inside of me is dripping out and reminding me that I’m still… not okay.

Maybe ‘cuz I’m worried about everything going good in my life now turning to complete shit the minute a Zen’in shows up around me. Specifically those two drunk fucks—my old man and his brother.

Y/N, where are you?

I’ve passed at least six concession stands already and still haven’t found her. Dammit, she probably got lost. I know this is her first time at a Formula One race, so she—

Don’t fuck with me.

Anger blurs my vision when I look across to see Y/N and my fucking old man—talking. Talking like they’re old friends.

My strides are long and hard while pushing through the crowd, not caring about the glares, scoffs, or complaints from the people I’m pushing out my way. All I care about is getting to Y/N and getting her the hell away from my old man.

As I close in on them, I’m able to hear their conversation.

“Are you single by chance? I have a son that you would be fantastic with,” he says.

She nervously giggles, but not in the way she usually does… she’s uncomfortable. “Oh, uhm, no. I have a boyfriend—”

“Y/N!” I shout, causing her to turn around and look at me. The moment we lock eyes, relief floods her expression, confirming my observation of her being uncomfortable.

“Toji—” I pull her behind me to level with my father and grab him by his suit collar.

Of course he’s the same coward as before because the moment I snatched him up, three fuckers dressed in black ran toward us to protect him, but he held his hand up to stop them in their tracks.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I asked through gritted teeth. I’m itching to kill him, and had it not been for us being in public or Y/N, no questions would’ve been asked.

“My dear son. Is this how you greet your father after twenty years?” The mockery and condescending tone is his voice makes me want to rip out his fucking throat. “Also, I see you lack manners as usual. Did you not see me talking to this beautiful young woman?”

“You have shit to talk about with her.”

His brows raised in realization. “Overprotective over a woman? Is this your significant partner?”

“Y–”

“No,” I answered, cutting her off and instantly regretting it. I don’t need to look at Y/N to know confusion fills her face. “Answer my fucking question.”

“Just making friendly conversation, is all. Am I not allowed to do that?”

“I-”

“Fushiguro,” Y/N interrupts. She catches me off guard by using my last name, but I guess it’s only fair since I denied she was my girlfriend. “Let’s go.”

The silent plea in her eyes makes me wish I never allowed this piece shit to pull a reaction out of me. ‘Cuz by the looks of it, Y/N is scared… and it’s all because of me.

You’re worthless. Don’t ever come near this estate again.

These damn thoughts in my head will do everything in their power to skin me alive. I’ll just ignore them… like I always do.

Last thing I want, which she probably already does now, is to regret being mine. So I took her hand, ignored that fucker and his condescending voice, and rushed through the crowd again to get the hell out of here.

“Toji,” Y/N calls me, sounding worried. “Toji, wait. Was that your—”

“Old man.”

My fucking old man.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

#anime x black!reader #anime x reader #toji x reader #toji fushigro x reader #toji x black reader #toji fushiguro x black reader #jjk x reader #jjk x black reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #toji angst #jjk angst

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ninyard · 1 day

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kevin and jeremy for the headcanon game if you’re still doing it pls :)))

i did kevin already so here's my #2 babygirl jeremy,, i hate to call him a golden retriever but... if the shoe fits

realistic headcanon: he has adhd but can't be medicated because USC take drug testing seriously and his meds are banned by the NCAA and the ERC. he can take them when they're not in competition, but once the season starts, he has to come off them again. oh, he is Symptomatic. he has location tracker tag things on his keys, find my iphone is ALWAYS on, he's had more bank cards than years in his life, is a frequent victim of the ADHD tax on subscriptions he forgets to cancel. he always writes important things he has to remember on his hands and then washes his hands forgetting they're there. he forgets to pee if he's too focused on something. he has 100 abandoned hobbies (the yo-yo is his newest one). he talks too loud when hes excited. he has sensory issues. hes really smart but hates academics. talks to himself sometimes. (getting him mic'ed up during a game is a dream and a treat because of the things he says while talking to himself)

may not be realistic it is hilarious: he loves drugs on the off-season. he absolutely loves going clubbing and MDMA is his favourite. he'd also take half or a quarter of a pill just chilling with Laila and Cat and have a mini party just the three of them. he believes he is his best self when he is high on uppers. not a fan of coke because he doesn't feel like it does anything for him though, he doesn't smoke, but will take edibles. LOVES to paint/draw/make art when he's high. he's not quote unquote addicted, and is really good at pacing himself/saying no/knowing when to stop, but when he doesn't have to do drug tests for Exy? he's living his best life

heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends: listen. at this point we understand my opinions on jeremy's past but. the reason why he doesn't swear is because his family/brother(s) used to swear at him so much as a kid that he just genuinely hates it. he hates the way it sounds coming out of his mouth. he doesn't like it, he doesn't think it's attractive, he just thinks swearing is unnecessary and actively chooses not to swear. (that doesn't mean he doesn't, but it's so rare that he does - if you ever, ever, ever hear jeremy knox swearing, then he is PISSED. he is livid. he is im-going-to-kill-a-man levels of angry. if you hear him swearing? run.)

unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own: i feel like i haven't had enough time to live with jeremy knox to come up with incredibly niche canon disregarding hcs yet. probably kisses women when hes drunk. maybe he ties his shoes weird. needs glasses but refuses to get his eyes tested. doesn't have a gag reflex. actually hates the way he looks in red. i don't know!!!! ask me again once he's been living in my brain a little longer

#he has echolalia and frequently sings songs from commercials #jeremy knox #aftg #tsc #tfc

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daftpatience · 15 hours

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Hi, I used to draw a lot but I've not drawn/created for a long time now, any tips to get back into it?

Or rather the whole thing about making art for yourself, I used to get a lot of attention for being good at art from other ppl and I'm not sure how to connect it back to myself again

I'm also contending with the Autism "It needs to be done in this way" and the ADHD "I can't focus for shit"

Also please don't worry if you don't know what to say, I'm just trying to get a variety of opinions to try and untangle my brain

Thank you in advance 💕

i think a good way to get back into creating *for yourself* whether its to come out of a dry spell or just to get back to creating things that you like, is what i call 'backtracking' (bearing in mind that my particular methods may only work for me! im lucky ive never struggled with focus when it comes to drawing things, but maybe some of these things will help as my main goal when drawing is to entertain myself!)

also before i move on this i think is valuable: you gotta draw things that you aren't gonna post sometimes. it's fun and fulfilling to make art for an audience, and wanting attention is not shameful (ITS HUMAN!) but also we live in panopticon times and i think its good to train your "i am alone doing something for myself and no one has to see it" muscles.

backtracking is a couple different things:

look back to when you were really young. what kinds of drawings were the most fun to do? what did you spend time on or get really into? for me, this was a few things! tracing cartoons, drawing up elaborate scenes of lots of little creatures doing a thing, and designing little characters as paper dolls and making their houses and little furniture and accessories and such to cut out and play with. also getting paint all over my hands (i still paint my whole hand whenever im done doing something with acrylics before i wash up! its stimming)! backtracking here is when you try to take those things and make use of them now. try to find that old joy and use it in a way that makes you happy today, even if it's something small or silly or embarrassing. it can really help you rediscover what parts of art make YOU happy!

if you're regularly drawing and in a slump, backtracking for me is stepping back and doing either more exercises and practising the things you feel like you already know how to draw (ie. studying angles of the face or pulling up imgs of rooms on pinterest to see how normal people arrange furniture etc.), or simplifying your drawings to a level that feels more relaxing and less stressful. (ie. chibis instead of more detailed characters etc.) i find i kind of fall back to chibis when i feel lost, and then sort of rebuild from there. its fun to let my style change as i grow!

ALSO! im telling your autism this for your adhd's sake (this is useful for anyone i think): if there is a part of art that you do not enjoy doing or find boring but you feel it is an important or necessary step in the process? the secret is it isnt! art is made up. if you hate lining, dont do it! if youre a digital artist and get caught up picking a brush every time because you feel like you need the perfect one? switch to mspaint for a bit to get the nerves out. it can be really freeing!

art is for having fun and fulfilling our need to create. the rules are all made up and not real. perfectionism is the little death that something something i forget. yeah

#hope that helps!#art advice #sorry its a lot of text

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friendlysociopath · 1 day

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I don't know how to fucking tag NSFW for this hell of a site for it to be alright, so beware. My brain spit out a small piece of smut, that I don't know yet if I'm gonna turn into a whole or not. Again, scraps, chaotic bits and pieces.

Gn reader (anyone can fuck love a ghoul)/Cooper Howard

NSFW, Voyeurism, Ghoul/human sex.

Enjoy, my dears.

So, there's another character I adored in the show. Norm. And I feel like he'd play a crucial part in Cooper finding Janey. So after they get her out from vault 31, Norm would leave with them. And just as Lucy was, Norm would be instantly drawn to the reader. Except, he'd be enamored by them. Lust for them, even. And maybe,

Norm would sneak up on them while they were having sex, even if it could potencially earn him a bullet through the head. He'd get lost in watching your body move as you chased pleasure, imagining it's him you are riding, with slow, languid motions, drawing each thrust out, grinding down hard with your head thrown back, gasping, your back arching sinfully.

His breath would catch as he watched the Ghoul's hand travel down your back, his slick fingers finding their way inside you, next to his throbbing lenght, stretching you further, filling you up so good that it'd make you stop, savouring the feeling with lewd moans, before you picked the pace up, your thrusts shallow and fast, tears streaming down your face.

"So filthy for me, sugar. So needy. One would think that you can't get enough of my cock. So eager..." he would growl into your ear, his breath ghosting over the bitemark he gave you. With one of his hands holding yours behind your back he'd pull out completely, sitting you on his lap. And you'd beg for him in a frustrated mewl as he bit down on a nipple softly, rolling his tongue around it before flipping you around, so that he was kneeling between your thighs. His hands would trail between them, pushing them apart almost painfully, making you so vulnerably open for him, a lewd sight that'd make Norm moan softly, his dick painfully hard and aching, making the insides of his too thight vault suit wet. Cooper would growl before his thumbs teased your abused entrance, opening you up just like that, open for his tongue to drive you mad.

Because Cooper would edge his sugar for hours, making you come so many times you'd beg for him to stop, but never really meaning any of it.

Oh how he'd turn the tables.

**A deep growl resonated in his chest as he stopped, but not before he sucked on your hard arousal one last time. His fingers stilled, crooked, pressing down on your spot, torturing you without moving. It's making you keen, you mewl as you try to move your hips. "Nu-uh-uuh, sweetness. You wanted me to stop," he drawls, his fingers moving in the smallest circle, to tease you still, pleasuring you relentlessly. "One would think that you didn't really mean it now, did you?"

Because I'm also awfully fucking horny for that damned Ghoul. Come talk to me about it, I'm eager for a discussion.

#cooper howard #reader x the ghoul #reader x cooper howard #cooper howard fic #cooper howard x reader #ghoulfucker #plot what plot #fallout fic #the ghoul #gn reader x cooper howard #gn reader

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royoko-enthusiast · 1 day

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Day 3 of Yuma Month!! Day 3's prompt was past!

Spoilers warning! the drawing can be taken with no context, but the little ramble I will go on does sool, Better safe then sorry.

Ngl this prompt punched me in my art gut so hard it made me want to rip the digital canvas apart. Generally wanted to go for a very nonchalant attitude with the world burning in the background vibe and I got what I wished for. Ngl my inspiration (by inspiration i mean my subconscious taking over) for the outfit was from Danganronpa, or atleast a very special part that I don't even think is in 3 main games.

After looking at other people's very nice art, I thought "wow my brain definitely went the wrong direction" but nothing I can do since I will be busy.

A lot of prompts gave me a very difficult time and for some prompts still are (I randomly got the urge to do the whole 31 days, except 2 specific dates so I am scrambling to make thumbnail sketches and drawings to have them ready soon). I like that this is challenging me, can't improve if I don't struggle!

(Sorry for any spelling mistakes if there are any!!)

#master detective archives: rain code #mdarc #yuma kokohead #rain code #Yuma Month #yuma month 2024 #mdarc spoilers #pretty big spoiler so yeah :D

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flightcloset · 20 days

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Why while listening to 'Kingdom Dance' from 'Tangled' I imagined Pelle as Rapunzel and Varg as Eugene (Flynn)?

(@plusvanity)

#vargelle nation #vargelle #like what the hell #i think my brain will make me draw them like this #mayhem band #mayhem

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