#and i don’t remember drawing half of them
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For the ever-lovely @retquits. His Fields of Mistria OC Monroe and Hayden. I just really needed to draw (and write) for them.
The Ghosts That We Choose
For a long time, he only notices the faint peeling of white paint on the windowsill. Its edge is soaked in morning light. The blue kind, like a cosmic eye opening at the seam. He is vaguely aware of the sheets rustling behind him, and the quiet after.
And then a touch, linen-soft and warm, sends fire first down his spine and then through the hill of his bare shoulder. The scars. The thing that carved them there. He can’t help it when he sucks in the air through his teeth. In a hiss as cold and blue as the morning.
All at once, he feels the familiar flush of shame in his cheeks and the furrow of regret in Hayden’s brow.
“I’m sorry,” Hayden says. “I wasn’t thinking. Again.”
His hand withdraws. A stone in Monroe’s stomach takes its place.
“It’s not you.” Monroe, against his nature, presses as much insistence into the words as he can. Too much, it seems, when he hears his voice quivering on the brink of desperation instead. He says something he thought he had unlearned. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It doesn’t even hurt anymore.”
Hayden is quiet for a long moment. His sheer closeness is the warmth between them in the dark. Monroe knows he’s looking at him. Waiting.
Monroe half-turns to him. Even in the soft shadows of early morning, Hayden’s eyes still give off their own gentle light, like embers drowsing in a hearth.
“Nothing’s wrong with you.” A calm sigh. He runs a hand through his own dark hair. “Sometimes the body just remembers things we try to forget.”
Monroe can’t help just staring at him. The stone in his stomach shifts and he feels light. Hazy. Like the dawn. The blue kind. “I hope so.”
“How’s that?” Hayden asks, drawl soft and slow. Monroe does not miss the hesitation in it. If he were bolder, he would call it fear.
Monroe’s hand tightens around a fistful of sheets. But then he breathes deep, and leans back against Hayden’s chest so his head falls into the curve of his neck. “Because…”
He takes Hayden’s large hand and places it back on his shoulder. Over the scars. Monroe flinches only imperceptibly this time.
“…I want it to remember every single time you’ve ever touched me.”
“Starting now?” Hayden squeezes his shoulder gently. An impulse or an instinct or both, Monroe finds he absolutely adores it.
Hayden moves his head, beard brushing up against Monroe’s ear.
“Or now?”
Monroe’s breath hitches as Hayden dips down to kiss the base of his neck.
“Oh, believe me, it’s already started,” Monroe huffs, off-kilter. His vision’s just the slightest bit out of focus.
Hayden brings his other hand to the other side of Monroe’s pale neck, tucking ocean hair to the side as he holds him there. Whispers against his jaw with a “Well, I sure as blazes hope so.”
Monroe smiles shy in the morning light. It started so long ago.
#fields of mistria#gift art#gift writing#give me scars and watch me crumble immediately#ret ily#my art#my writing
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from left to right: wild cooking (with the caption #hungry) while loft lays unconscious behind them (with the cpation #wasted); wild, ages, and loft with wild asking “hey r u the hero” to which lorule and ravio just. stare blankly at them; loft laying in the family guy death pose
hey so this is how i plan out the story
#there’s so many more fucked up little doodles that i’ve got#and i don’t remember drawing half of them#all of these suck so much and i love them#wild looks Demented in the second one and it brings me joy#hero’s call au#hcau#clo’s linkverse au
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This crossover helps my body produce serotonin and I am very grateful
I didn't come up with a context for the jokes but that didn't stop me
The First ninja choked on such a joke Amanda: a shame not on a dick
#semisomnosres#xiaolin showdown#rc9gn#amanda levay#wuya#xs wuya#ninja showdown#randy cunningham 9th grade ninja#I still don’t fully understand how to draw Wuyas Hair from any other angle other than frontal#I never finished watching Xiaolin Chronicles. I remember I got through about half of it and then dropped#I have a lot more jokes like this and I hope to draw them someday
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Despite how much I suffered making my last isat au Aris sprite redraw, I decided to do it again and once again went through hell doing it. There’s like a billion mistakes in this (such as her having the wrong arm rip) but at the end of the day I’m still happy with how it turned out :]
#keese draws#oc#oc art#eternal gales#isat#in stars and time#sorry for main tagging feel free to excecute me if you want or whatever#grips sink cringe is dead cringe is dead cringe is dead#anyways this is a very fuzzy and vague au as I don’t rly feel comfortable going off too hard with this one#this is pretty much entirely because I know I’d have to fuck around with the worldbuilding a decent amount and I don’t rly wanna do that#Isat’s worldbuilding is one of my favorite parts of isat so I don’t wanna fuck it up yknow?#I might do some other sprite redraws once I stop thinking too hard abt aris and tali#for context tali is the king aka complicated design that makes me wanna cry especially since I made it worse by changing her imagery#instead of having tears as a thing she has like. fracturing if that makes sense?#it’s supposed to be a nod to her ‘cracked’ eye in canon#she also has threads coming from her limbs instead of long hair for similar reasons#also she doesn’t have straight hair so yknow#but yeah for additional context aris and tali are half sisters and they make me go insane#in this au the idea would be that when their grandparents divorced when the two were little tali and their grandma left the island#aris wouldn’t leave until five or so years later when she was around 12#at which point the island disappeared and all that#the two have mostly completely forgotten about eachother but there still is familiarity between them#tali isn’t any less of a piece of shit than the king in this au tho#aris for a brief moment almost remembers who tali is during act 3 but she dies before she can fully grasp it#which almost hurts more to her despite not even knowing what she was trying to recall#during act 5 her inner sadness fight is against the hazy image of a very young tali 👍#just tiny 5 year old tali using the voices of the others to scream at aris that she’s been nothing but a burden to them all#and that she’s done nothing but hurt them in her selfish attempts to fix a problem that she refuses to admit she caused#and that time and time again she’s lied that she’s doing her best to protect them and that she’s failed all of them#it’s a mix of current guilt and her hazy but longstanding guilt towards tali
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i should do a lil doodle of my arcana mc and asra….to satisfy the me who couldn’t draw people too well at the time but wanted to so badly
#how i feel abt obey me now is how i felt abt the arcana#i’m happy i can draw mc smoochin the faves now!!!#joanna (my mc) was originally gonna be romanced with julian…..but then my heart went badumpadump for that silly lil magician#it pains me so!!!!!!! i love asra sm#how he straight up gave half his heart away to bring u back from the dead….insane. need somebody like that fr#love him sooo muchhhhhhhh🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭#joanna’s a cutie patootie too ���� both of them got purple goin on#agghhhh now i’m remembering the outfit designs i did for her and my SI……. goddd i love those designs sm. i made a post a long time ago i#think saying the exact same thing and how i should just draw them anyway despite not being into the arcana anymore#but!! i realized i can also repurpose the designs….🤔🤔🤔#but i don’t wanna bc they were specifically made for the characters :((((#SI mc goes so hard tho i really only have them so i can give myself cool ass fantasy outfits hehe 💖
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Last night I had a dream that I only vaguely remember where someone tried to switch hualian and beefleaf but kept failing because too much of Hua Cheng’s character was him being whipped and they didn’t know how to deal with that. I was entirely useless but did find their approach to making Xie Lian gender-fluid interesting (i don’t remember what they did when doing that).
I was basically just sitting there with a sprite I got from a movie theater that was closing (dream right before this one) and being entirely useless as help (but I was entertained)
#emma posts#there were some other things going on at the same time as well#I think someone was trying not to get murdered and we spent half the time on a highway with no car for some reason#my dreams don’t really have a clear plot#a lot happens at the same time#it’s like it has three sun plots at once but one of the sun plots has someone almost dying#I was disappointed when the first place i tried to get a drink had orange soda instead of sprite come out of the dispenser#for some reason I found the gender-fluid thing relatable even though I’m not gender fluid#I don’t even remember how#but in the waking world I only have two sets of pronouns and they are interchangeable all the time#there was also swimming involved at some point but I’m pretty sure that was just because i like swimming#my life was being threatened while i was swimming to escape but I could have probably taken a different route#for some reason the change in depth perception when my glasses were off vs when I was wearing them was even more extreme? like a telescope#I’d say that with my fuzzy waking memory I lost the plot but I’m pretty sure there was more than one to begin with#feel like drawing a picture that is like me: in a beanbag with a sprite watching someone#them: hands in their hair ranting beside their desk#I am half zoned out#but I don’t think i will draw it#them: so much of his character is based around Xie lain#me nodding and going ‘hmm’ while I drink out of a straw in a beanbag chair
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QUESTION ANOTHER ONE,
Are unique traits for your ocs just random or like do they come in a vision or do you just happen to look at the right thing at the right time and make it real or is it like a conscious thing like “I need more ocs with a mole so I’m giving this new guy one” or???
#random post#i think for me. a lot of my ocs more unique traits and mannerisms were accidents lol#oh god I got distracted I don’t remember what that tag says and I can’t see it all LMAO but I was saying most things about my ocs are like.#accidentally on purpose? usually their traits are shaped by how I happen to draw them one specific time. and then I cling onto that and#then exaggerate and accentuate it so it fits them#like. the ways I draw some oc faces/face shapes was kinda done on accident lol#gooses newest face shape was an accident#sometimes I forget that a feature I drew on a character one time was supposed to be just for that one thing#like when I made August half lidded. but then I forget that fact OR like it too much and so then I keep it#lmao sorry I keep making posts with tags flooded by adhd thoughts lmao but I just think a lot <3#completely unrelated but these Pringle’s are REALLY FUCKING SALTYY GHBHGF MY ENTIRE MOUTH IS REACTING TO IT LMAO
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Something that literally changed my life was working with a friend on a coding thing. He was helping me create an auto rig script and was trying to explain something to me but his words were just turning into static in my brain. I was tired and confused and there was so many new concepts happening.
I could feel myself working toward a crying meltdown and was getting preemptively ashamed of what was about to happen when he said, “Hey, are you someone who benefits from breaks?”
It broke me.
Did I benefit from breaks? I didn’t know. I’d never taken them.
When a problem frustrated or upset me I just gritted my teeth and plowed through the emotional distress because eventually if you batter and flail at something long enough you figure it out. So what if you get bruised on the way.
I viscerally remembered in that moment being forced to sit at the table late into the night with my dad screaming at me, trying to understand math. I remembered taking that with me into adulthood and having breakdowns every week trying to understand coding. I could have taken a break? Would it help? I didn’t know! I’d never taken one!
“Yes,” I told him. We paused our call. I ate lunch. I focused on other stuff for half an hour. I came back in a significantly better state of mind, and the thing he’d been trying to explain had been gently cooking in the back of my head and seemed easier to understand.
Now when I find myself gritting my teeth at problems I can hear his gentle voice asking if I benefit from breaks. Yes, dear god, yes why did I never get taught breaks? Why was the only way I knew to keep suffering until something worked?
I was relating to this same friend recently my roadtrip to the redwoods with my wife. “We stopped every hour or so to get out and stretch our legs and switch drivers. It was really nice. When I was a kid we’d just drive twelve hours straight and not stop for anything, just gas. We’d eat in the car and power through.”
He gave a wry smile, immediately connecting the mindset of my parents on a road trip to what they’d instilled in me about brute forcing through discomfort. “Do you benefit from breaks?” he echoed, drawing my attention to it, making me smile with the same sad acknowledgement.
Take breaks. You’re allowed. You don’t have to slam into problems over and over and over, let yourself rest. It will get easier. Take. Breaks.
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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ LEAVING LIPSTICK STAINS ON LEVI
fem!reader, sfw, fluff, you leave lipstick all over levi before a mission and the scouts find out, just something super cutesy & short while i work on some longer pieces hehe, pls ignore errors lol, 1.3k words
“promise you’ll come back in one piece?” you say, smoothing the wrinkle between levi’s brow with a kiss.
he glances up at you from under his lashes, crinkling his nose as a short, breathy laugh escapes him, one he tries to subdue. still, he can’t deny the happiness that slips onto his features, not when joy is so fleeting because of the life that the two of you live.
cold hands run across your back, down to your hips as you straighten his collar, kissing his sharp cheekbones, the bridge of his nose. “i’ve made it this far, haven’t i?” levi mutters, squeezing your sides gently before shifting you off of his lap.
he lifts you, sets you on the edge of his desk, causing some of the papers that erwin had dropped off earlier to crinkle. a smile graces your lips as levi stands, stretching his limbs behind him, the chair pushing away from the desk with a creak.
“i’m going to be late because of you,” levi remarks, eyes narrowed playfully, but he gives you another kiss on the lips, lingering there like it’s painful to pull away.
“then stop kissing me.” your hands splay across his chest, but you don’t push him away, feeling his heart beat under his ribcage, the melody that you will always come back to. still, levi tugs your hips forward, slots in between your legs, and kisses you even deeper. “it’s time for you to go, captain levi.”
a heavy sigh weighs against your mouth, his exhale warm as he pulls back. “sounds like you want me gone.”
“of course i don’t.” your voice softens as you play with his fingers for a moment, before he's tugging them away gently, withdrawing from your figure. “i'm going to have to find someone else to sleep next to while you’re away."
normally, you would’ve been going with levi and the rest of the scouts, but an injury from your last mission prevented you from going on any more for a few weeks.
levi snorts, putting on his jacket, fixing the leather straps across his chest. “is that all i’m good for? killing titans and keeping your bed warm?”
you make a face at him, then shrug, half-hearted as he stares back at you with amusement. then, you laugh, cheerful and free; you know levi will come back to you. he has no other choice.
levi makes his way towards the door.
“levi?”
he turns, the lipstick stains still visible on his cheek, dark against his pale skin. for a moment, you wonder if you should tell him—if he’d be mad if you didn’t.
but then you remember he’s going to meet with a squad of fifteen year olds that have all almost died alongside him. if they really have a problem with their captain being loved by you, then they don’t care about him as much as you thought.
you smile and shake your head, voice holding just enough mischief for levi to notice. “just be safe. i love you.”
he softens. there are times where levi is hesitant to say the words, still worried you will be taken from him. but this is not one of those times. not when you will be separated for days, his life once again in danger. “i love you too, sweetheart.”
within ten minutes, levi is down to the first floor, pushing into the room where the members of his squad are already waiting.
he’s only a minute late, but he feels like they must have been waiting for hours, the way that they are all gawking at him with wide eyes, connie’s jaw faltering slightly. “everyone here?” levi asks, doing a quick scan of the room, counting heads like he’s their babysitter.
no one says anything. eren’s eyes look like they might bulge out of his head, and jean covers his mouth, looking away as him and sasha let out a stifled giggle.
levi’s mouth draws into an even thinner line. “what the hell are you snickering about?" he grumbles, looking at each of them individually, wondering who will be the first to confess.
their eyes dart away dramatically, faces red. even eren, who is normally more obnoxious than the rest, seems to have run out of words to say.
his eye twitches; levi wonders if connie’s head might burst, or if sasha’s laugh will rip out of her first.
“well?” levi asks again, snapping, already tired of this mission. a hot cup of tea sounds nice, in bed next to you.
armin, as usual, is the one to speak up when no one else has anything intelligent to say. “well, sir,” the blonde says, gesturing towards his own face. “i think…”
levi touches his cheek, remembering all the places you’d kissed him earlier, wearing that pretty black dress and your dark lipstick. a sigh leaves him when he pulls his fingers away, the tips coming back, smeared with a deep red.
he should've known.
“i see," levi says, staring for a moment, before meeting eren's eyes, his lips finally widening into a grin.
“ooooh," eren sings, his expression smug as mikasa elbows him, her own features pinched tight. "the captain’s in looooove."
levi knows they are expecting a reaction, a spectacle of the fact that he adores you. but he’s never kept it a secret, and he’s certainly not ashamed of all the things he feels for you.
“and what if i am?” levi asks instead, pointedly staring eren down as the rest of the scouts watch the exchange. “honestly, i am surprised no one noticed sooner.”
eren’s jaw falters a bit; a small wave of silence falls over the scouts. you and levi don't make a point of hiding your relationship, but really, levi shouldn’t have been surprised that no one in his squad was observant enough to notice.
or so he thought, anyway.
historia’s smaller, high-pitched voice breaks up the quiet, repeating your name back to him, as if affirmation that you’re the one he kisses goodnight. a silly question really, considering levi has never looked at anyone else with the same kind of tenderness.
“it is her, isn’t it?” historia asks, smiling softly. “i only know because you’re always holding hands under the table when you think no one can see.”
levi raises his eyebrow. “clearly we were wrong about that.” though, of all the things to notice, he thought it’d be the way you kiss him after every mission, the way he’s harder on you than anyone else because he doesn’t want to lose you.
eren shrieks your name like he’s never heard it before, and levi is starting to wonder if the boy actually is an idiot. his old squad had known immediately; petra caught you sneaking up to levi’s quarters when you thought everyone else was asleep, kissing him on the cheek when you thought everyone's back was turned.
it’s been a long time since then, he supposes. maybe the years have taught you subtlety.
“how long have you been together?”
“does she actually like you?”
“do you—” connie makes a lewd gesture with his fingers. “you know.”
“connie!” jean shouts, whacking him on the back of the head. “what do you think! dumbass.”
“hey!" connie says, rubbing his head. “geez. i just can’t picture it.”
"i’d rather you didn’t." levi’s face turns sour, disturbed by a room full of teenagers discussing his private and romantic life. “bring it up again and i’ll leave you outside of the wall on the next mission.” he pauses, crosses his arms with an exasperated exhale. “and she likes me just fine. at least, she has for the past five years.”
“five—”
a new wave of questioning starts and levi pinches his temples, shakes his head, the red smear of lipstick still on his face.
levi almost wishes you could’ve been there to field the questions instead. you’ve always been better with the kids, connected with them a lot easier than levi had.
even if it was would’ve exposed his lovesick eyes, the tiny lift of the corner of his mouth when you were around.
he’s never been very good about hiding it anyway.
#levi x reader#levi ackerman x you#levi ackerman x female reader#levi ackerman x reader#levi x you#xoxo rylie 💌 ୧⋆ ˚。⋆#levi ackerman fluff#levi ackerman angst#levi ackerman x y/n#levi ackerman x fem!reader#levi imagine#levi headcanons#levi drabble#aot x female reader#aot x reader#aot x you#aot fluff#snk x reader#snk x you#snk x y/n#attack on titan x female reader#attack on titan fanfiction#xoxo rylie 💌 ⋆ ˚。⋆
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So I read a prompt about how Wonder Woman found Danny in a trash can (don’t remember which one) and I was bored.
So I took that lil info and made it into an AU.
So basically, Danny get yeeted into this unknown universe and has no where to live. And no where to live means no money. No money means no food. No food means Danny can’t keep his human half sustained.
So what does he do?
Decides to not change into a human and live in a trash can.
Yes you heard that right, live in a trash can.
Because he’s a ghost, he doesn’t have to worry about the germs and stuff. But that doesn’t mean he lives in just any trash can! He lives in a clean one ☝️
AND he also decorated it with his name so other people know it’s his!
And so Danny has been here for a while now and realizes
Holy shit there’s hero’s here- you know what, why doesn’t he have hero’s back home?!
And being minorly annoyed jealous (but he’s never admitting that)he thought:
Well since there’s hero’s here already, guess I’m not needed.
.
.
.
Good. I’m tired af
And so Danny caries on his life, being content with his trash can and scaring whoever comes into his alley. It’s fun. Sure he sometimes needs to ugh overshadow people to feed his human side, but other than that.
It’s going great.
But Danny doesn’t realize that with Amity gone (or smth, you choose) which was his haunt, he slowly makes the trash can into his new haunt.
And slowly but surely, Danny’s beloved haunt trash can starts to become other worldly kinda.
Yk because of the ectoplasm.
So now Danny’s lovely trash can haunt has more space inside and- Hey Danny can actually sleep in it better!! And he got some company too!
In the form of blob ghosts.
Two actually.
They keep his trash can clean and help purifying some corrupted ectoplasm that he finds. Because for some reason this universe’s ectoplasm seems half way artificial and tastes a bit weird. Which is where the blob ghosts help out in.
Everything was great.
Danny was loving the trash can life style.
He has two blob ghosts friends. Which he named Sam and Tucker, and yea they couldn’t talk but that was fine.
He wasn’t lonely, he wasn’t. He had two very much talking friends like Sam and Tucker.
However one day two weirdly dressed people- oh they were hero’s.
Well anyway they found him, one woman stripper and one furry guy.
But it was on accident! He was just peaking out of his beloved haunt trash can, and they spotted him.
He stared, they stared back.
Then the woman stripper asked him questions, even when he said:
“Don’t mind me, have a nice day!”
But they just kept bother him and giving him weird looks and glances.
Which- rude.
Didn’t they see his mark on his haunt trash can? Obviously it means it’s his home, so they shouldn’t be bothering him still. He’s safe as can be.
Plus.
It’s not like he’s looking at them in suspicion and weirdness, I mean look at them! What kinda cheep knock off vampire fury mix and American stripper style clothing are those!
They should mind their own business!
———
Just a silly lil drawing of this lmao, don’t mind me.
#dp x dc#fan art#danny phantom#dc universe#Danny saw a clean un-used trash can in an alley which no one normal came into and went: Yes.#The trash can is his Haunt now B-!#Danny has fun scaring the few people who actually come into the alley#Danny is FINALLY getting some well needed rest ever since becoming a halfa#He doesn’t get why these people are nothing him#can’t they leave him alone? what he do!#Danny ain’t about to leave his trash can#HE GON FIGHT YOU TWO IF HE HAS TO#B and WW are both equally concerned#they don’t want to leave his probable alien/meta child in a FEAKING TRASH CAN#They taking him by force.#they gonna share custody of him lmao#I can totally see WW and Batman both parenting Danny with him realizing it AT ALL#Also idk what happened to Amity or anyone#maybe they all died???#idk#but Danny may or may not be scared of going back home#that’s why he’s here#feel free to add to this
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BIRTHDAY WISHES — S. GOJO
content: fluff, gojo baking you a cake, silliness, cuddles, fluff, breeding, my birthday gift to all of you
“What are you doing?”
Satoru looks up, face and apron covered in flour, several open containers from jars to boxes spread out on the counter, and a large mixing bowl sat in front of him. He had a heap of sugar in a measuring cup that he was about to pour in.
“Oh, just baking,” you raise an eyebrow with a snort, walking over, as you thumb away the flour on his cheek.
“I see most of it ended up on your face instead of your stomach,” and he pouts, wiping his face, but only smearing it further on his face, “why are you up so early?”
“I can’t wake up early now?” And you watch him dump sugar into the bowl. And you raise an eyebrow, as you watch him glance at his phone, turning his body to block your view, “shouldn’t you get some more rest, sweets? You just got back from your mission,”
“Mm,” you hug him from behind, burying your face in his luckily un-floured back, “but I’m missing my pillow,” and you feel the chuckle rumble against you, “and I should be telling you that. I know you’re always to bed later than I am,”
“I told you I would do your paperwork for you and I did, because I am the best husband,” you smiled, nuzzling into the soft planes of his back — you still couldn’t believe someone so strong could also be this soft, “you had Shoko check you?”
“Clean bill of health, just a headache, but she said that’s normal with time dilation curses,” you smiled, as he started to mix the bowl, even with you wrapped around his back, “but she prescribed cuddles in bed, and for you to get back to it,”
You can hear the grin on his lips as he speaks, “Oh? I don’t remember her mentioning ‘cuddling’ as a cure to anything,” you lean up kissing his neck, fingers tracing along his undercut, and you feel the slight shiver that sneaks down your husband’s body — and you love it. You love how this man, the pinnacle of strength can be bent by your will, and he would do it again and again for you, “sweetheart—“ he whines.
“Please?” And he sighs, as he covers his bowl, wiping off his hands on his apron, before pulling it off, but he was forgetting one thing, “Toru, your face?” Flour and batter still caked on, but his lips only curled, as you only could manage a half step back, before he’s catching you by the wrists.
“Aw c’mon, wifey, in sickness and health right?” And you’re squirming, giggling as he tries to draw closer to you with flour and batter all over.
“I don’t remember messes being a part of that,” you squeal, but he’s scooping you into his arms, “Toru! No—“ but he’s muffling you with a kiss, and you’re gasping as he makes sure to tilt and twist his head, before kissing down your jaw to make sure you were covered too.
“And now we’re matching,” and you’re pouting at him, trying to break from his grip, but he’s already tossed you onto the bed. He grabs a towel from your bathroom, dampening it before wiping your face and then his own. He tossed it into the hamper, a smile on his lips as he cuddles up behind you, “just what the doctor ordered right?”
And you turn your head and kiss him softly, “right.”
~~~
And now it was the second time you woke up alone in your bedroom.
You check the time and see it’s almost noon, a sigh on your lips as you stretch your body, muscles in knots still, as you slip out of bed.
You find your way out and into the kitchen only to snort again.
“Put the icing down,” and your husband freezes, piping bag in hand, as he turns, careful to maneuver his body to block what he was working on, "what are you doing?"
"Sweets, shouldn't you be sleeping--" and you're stepping forward, trying to crane your neck to see, "no! I have my delicates out--"
"And you're using frosting on them?" and he's pouting, hands on your shoulders, "Toru, why are you acting so weird?"
He sighs, head hanging, as he finally steps aside to show what he's been working on.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY
You furrow your brow, thinking about the date, "who's birthday is it?" Satoru flicks your forehead lightly, "ow!"
He's chuckling, as you rub your forehead, "Well, who's the only other person here besides your wonderful, thoughtful husband?"
"But my birthday--" and then you check your phone, the date of your birthday staring back at you, "how--" and then it dawns on you, "the curse, it screwed with my sense of time, I completely mixed up what date it was,"
He wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on top of your head, "You may forget, wifey, but I'll never forget my favorite day of the year,"
You smile, "Your favorite day?" and he hums, pressing a kiss to your cheek.
"The day the best person was born to ever exist was born," and you laugh.
"And I thought that was you," and he's clicking his tongue.
"No, I was born only to worship at your feet, humbly of course," and your lips curl, as he murmurs against your ear, "can your humble servant finish the cake, oh beautiful goddess?"
"Of course,"
And now you're sat in the living room, eyes closed and covered by your hands at Satoru's insistence, "Toru? Do you need help?"
"Just a second, you can't rush perfection, sweetheart," and you can hear him puttering around the kitchen, drawers opening and closing.
"But I'm rushing you," you tease, a smile on your lips, "the lighter is in the far left drawer,"
You can imagine the pout on his lips, "I'll let that comment slide for now," and you hear the click of the lighter, and you hear his footsteps finally approach, "you can open your eyes,"
And you do to find the lights dimmed and Satoru holding a somewhat messily made cake with your name now written on it, his sweet grin illuminated by the glow of the candles.
"Happy birthday to you," he sings softly, "Happy birthday to you," and he's stepping forward, setting the cake in front of you, "Happy birthday, my lovely wife," and you can't stop smiling, "Happy birthday to you," and you grin, covering your lips, "uh-uh, you can't blow out the candles like that, sweetheart,"
"What do I wish for when I have everything I want right here?" you pull him close, your lips finding his, "I love you," and he kisses you again, fingers cupping your cheek.
You blow out the candles, as he smiles up at you, "Not as much as I love you."
~~~
"What did you wish for anyway?" he hands you a piece of the cut cake, as you pick up some frosting with the fork.
"I'm not supposed to say, it's a secret, buuuut,” you lean and whisper, “I really want a baby,” and you hear his breath hitch, lips parting, as he looks at you, a hunger in his gaze, before you smear frosting down his cheek.
“HUH?” And you’re giggling and running to the bedroom, “sweetheart—“ and then he’s hit with your t-shirt and shorts in the face.
“I wasn’t kidding!” And he tosses the clothes away, grin on his face as he’s taking off his shirt.
“Your wish is my command.”
And he wouldn’t let you leave bed until he was sure he had bred you well.
#sab [mlist]#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#gojo x you#satoru gojo x reader#gojo fanfiction#satoru gojo fanfiction#gojo fluff#satoru gojo fluff#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction#Jjk fanfiction#Jjk x you
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The art of tardiness
Pairing: Unspecified Male Character x Male reader
cw: 18+, possessiveness, anal fingering, anal sex, top male reader, bottom male character, age gap, morning sex, writing on skin, feminization (hole referred to as cunt)
Synopsis: sometimes calling him yours just isn’t enough
There were times you were sure that your boyfriend was dating two different people.
One was the young man who’d swiftly tuck his tail between his legs at the smallest comment made about his relationship. That man could admit that he lacked experience compared to his much older partner, could admit he probably wasn’t his partner’s ideal type with his scrawny frame and short height, and he knew that even if his boyfriend were to look past those things, the people around them would never do it.
Then there was the rabid dog in the shape of a young man, that barks and bites at any potential threat, such as hostile comments made about his relationship. He’d look you straight in the eye and tell you not to make comments about a relationship you know nothing off, hell he’d get in a physical altercation if you provoked him enough.
And then of course there was the desire to bite the hand that feeds him, devour his person down to the bone so he wouldn’t have to share him with the world. He or rather you were pretty good at keeping this desire at bay but sometimes you just couldn’t contain it especially early in the mornings, when he looks like a sight to behold with his lazy smile bleary eyes, thin white sheet doing nothing to cover up his naked body.
You want to keep him in bed, mark him up, make him cum over and over again til all he can remember is the feeling of your cock
Unfortunately things aren’t that easy, especially when he has to get ready for work in half an hour, but stubborn as you are, you don’t let him go, dead set on marking him up as much as possible.
At first he’s too lost in bliss to notice what you’re doing, letting you suck and nip on the sensetive skin while desperately clinging onto your body, that is til you bite down hard enough to draw blood and the man jerks in place, wide eyed and suddenly too aware of what you’re doing.
“No marks” he says, even goes as far as to scruff your neck, as if you’re nothing but a disobedient dog to him “I have work, remember?”
“Please?” and you know that you must sound rather pathetic but honestly you couldn’t care less, especially not when you notice that a couple of marks have already started to bloom on his skin.
“So goddamn possessive what am I gonna do with you huh?” He says, while keeping a vice like grip on your neck “Should I let you write your damn name on my forehead? Would that make you happy hm?” He says gaze much softer as his thumb strokes your neck.
Even though he hadn’t intend to do so, his words gave you an idea and you immediately find yourself reaching for the night stand, hand blindly rummaging through the drawer.
“And what do you think you’re doing?” He says, brow raised but it doesn’t take long before realization strikes him “Absolutely not,”
You turn to the other man , practically giving puppy eyes. This time you do feel a tad bit of embarrassment but not enough to give up on this battle.
“I can’t go out like that,”
“You won’t,” you immediately say “I’ll do it somewhere you can cover it,”
“Jesus Christ kid,” he sighs out and pinches his brows but despite his words you know that his resolve has crumbled.
You’re quick to grab the first best pen before straddling his waist, the late night escapade having left him in nothing but a thin white sheet covering the most sensitive part of him but you can still feel you cock head rubbing upon the cleft of his ass as you settle down.
“Cheeky bastard” he breathes out, fully aware of where your mind’s gone to.
You only hush him response, muttering how you have to be focused before you attempt to put the marker to his arm.
But before you can do that he grabs ahold of your egg wrist, a firm look painted on his face “promise me it’ll wash off,”
“Promise,” you say with a shit eating grin on your face.
And as you proceed to put the marker to his skin, you realize that you’re at loss of ideas on what you could write on him. It’s like you wanted to do so much when the idea first struck your head but sitting here you almost feel overwhelmed by all the options that you have.
You play it safe at first, writing out your name just below his pec, a move that has the man squirming beneath you.
“Tickles,”
“Sorry,” you say, not an ounce of sincerity in your tone as you draw another scribble on his forearm. It’s you and him- well it’s supposed to be but your artistic skills only allow you to draw two stick figures holding hands.
For a moment there are no words exchanged as you continue draw on his skin. You do a couple of doodles here and there, some ridiculous other more scandalous. You even write some words on his skin- some being your name others being lewd quotes, everything done within range where he’d be able to hide it beneath his clothes.
“This enough for you kid?” He says, when the majority of his chest is covered in little scribbles.
He probably didn’t mean anything by those words. But the ugly monster residing inside couldn’t help but take this as a challenge especially when he says that as he lays naked in your shared bed, soft smile on his face, the scribbles of your name clearly showing under the rays of sunlight protruding through the bedroom window.
Instead of responding to him you grab ahold of his wrist, black marker writing out the letter M on his skin, bold and big, just within the range of where he can pull on a shirt if he wishes to hide the word. The letters I N E are soon added in place, big bold and curling around his underarm.
The word mine now lays written on his forearm.
But you don’t stop there, eyes flicking over to his furry stomach that looks awfully bare before you take a marker to it and start writing your initials all over it. This time around the skin isn’t as forgiving, straight lines turning jagged from coarse hair and faded scar. Not that you mind and neither does the little monster residing inside.
You continue writing on him, covering as much skin as he allows but truth be told you don’t know how his clothes will be able to cover up some scribbles, not that you plan on telling him that right now.
And he doesn’t seem to care that much as his gaze carefully follows your movements, breathing growing heavier and heavier with each second that passes.
At some point you feel the need to get closer to him even though you’re practically sitting ontop of him, swiftly shuffling around til you’re slotted between his thighs, carefully drawing a line from the crevice of his knee down to the groove of his left thigh.
He continues to watch you with attentive eyes, as you add a triangle to the end of line, the marker reaching dangerously to where his balls lay hanging between his thighs and from where you sit you can smell his musk hitting your nostrils, can feel his thighs clench beneath your fingertips , can now see the way the black arrow is humorously pointing straight to the furley ring of muscles.
It’s impossible not to reach out to the spot between his legs, a curious finger swiping over his sensitive skin and pulling a gasp out of him“Hah!”
Your eyes flicker up, cock twitching at the sight of the man who already looks so wrecked before looking back to the marker in your hand, moving it back and forth til the line on his thigh grows in size, doing anything just to busy your mind because you’re supposed to draw on him not fuck him, remember that?
But it’s not long before your attention is back onto his burning heat, a glob of spit landing onto the sensitive skin before your finger circles his now wet rim.
“What are you-“
He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before you slip the tip of your finger inside, watching the way he jerks in surprise, the sudden movement jacking up the straight marker line, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.
“Jesus Christ kid,” he breathes, voice dripping with both arousal and amusement as you continue to sink your finger inside of him.
“This alright?” You ask, and push til you’re knuckles deep before giving an experimental curl of your finger.
Another gasp escapes his mouth, hips bucking up into your touch “ hah -now you ask?” He says, but despite his words the man nods at your question.
That’s all it takes for you to work a second finger inside, this time coaxing a hiss out of him,“easy there kid going to break me,”
You can’t help but chuckle at that”Think you’re giving me too much credit pretty,” you say but decide to move your fingers at a much slower pace, watching the way his body once again relax onto the sheets as contented hums escape his lips.
You continue curling your fingers inside while drawing onto the man; circling birth marks and scars you find pretty, drawing arrows across every inch of skin while watching the way he twists and turns in the sheets with every brush of your fingertips “so fucking pretty like this drives me crazy “
At some point you stop drawing on his skin, turning all your focus to the fingers buried inside him.
You don’t even notice the way tears have started to gather at his eyes, nor the begs and please continuously escaping his mouth, too entranced with the sight of his hungry hole practically swallowing up your hand.
It’s only when he grabs ahold of your wrist that you snap back into the present moment, now noticing how you’ve left the pen to bled out on the white sheets, and how the ink on his skin has already started to smear.
The gruesome monster inside tells you that you need to find another way to mark the man.
Within moments you’re grabbing ahold of his legs, pushing his knees up to his chest til his cunt is on full display, not wasting another second to line your cockhead up with his entrance before pushing inside him.
“Ah fuck! Insatiable dog,” he barks out, not having expected you to do that but that doesn’t stop him from practically clamping onto you as you bottom out: heels digging into your ass and nails digging into your back as you start driving up into his hungry cunt.”mpf fuck just like that keep going kid“
Who’s insatiable now? You think to yourself, a strangled chuckle escaping your lips as you continue to thrust into his tight wet heat.
It doesn’t take long before you’re setting a steady pace, thrusting so erratically he’s practically choking up on the moans that are trying to escape his lips, bed frame frantically rocking against the wall every thrust of your hips.
“Ah! Fuck! Going to - hah going to kill me,” he says through choked sobs, hands madly clawing at your back as if he’s losing his footing on this world.
And as you look down at the beautiful mess he makes, you can’t help but notice the shadow of a bulge showing on his stomach, right below the spot where your initials lay.
Once again you feel the zealous monster within you take the steering wheel, hand pushing his legs past his ears, before drilling into him.
“Say it “ you grunt out, hands keeping a vice like grip on his thighs, pushing his legs so far back you’re sure you’ll split him in half if you keep it up “Come on come on say you’re mine”
At first he’s at a loss for words, barely even able to catch his breath with the way you’re erratically thrusting into him but eventually he manages to respond to you.
“Yours yours all yours fucking fuck I’m cum-“ he splutters out, hole erratically clenching down onto your cock before he cums in hot thick white streaks, across both his and yours abondmen “‘m sorry ‘m sorry” he slurs out, while he continues to shamelessly fuck himself back onto your cock.
Something about that sight is enough to triggering your own orgasm
“Fuck!” You cry out, eyes squeezing shut before youre hit with hot blinding pleasure.
The world around you blurs out, ears ringing loud as you continue to ride out your high before you eventually slump down beside the man.
“Jesus Christ,” you say, ears still ringing loud, world barely coming into focus. “That was-“ you begin but trail off once you can’t seem to find the right word for it.
A laugh rumbles through the older man’s chest, his big hand cradling the back of your neck before he says “got that right kid,”
You look up at him only to be left speechless at the sight.
See people always said that a relationship with someone so much younger than him would ruin him. You’d hear it over and over again while eavesdropping on whatever conversation he was having about this “sudden” relationship.
You never really understood what they meant until you saw him sprawled out on your bed, gaping hole stuffed full with your cum, and every inch of his skin covered in your initials.
At least they knew he was yours to ruin.
Yours
Yours.
Yours.
That little insatiable monster that can't seem to find rest rises to life again, coaxes you to slot your lips against the older man’s, tongue slipping into his mouth and licking along every nook and crevice, leaving the taste of you behind for anyone that would dare kiss him.
It takes one more kiss before he prys himself away from you, and walks over to the bathroom on shaky steps, the sight of his inked ass is the last thing you see before the door closes behind him.
You slump back into bed with a smile on your face, the taste of him still lingers on your lips, the previous string of events practically burned into your iris and for a second it all feels like a dream that is before you hear your name being shouted behind the bathroom door followed by a string of angry words “why won’t this shit wash off,”
Oh well…
#top male reader#bottom male character#gojo x reader#gojo x male reader#toji x reader#toji x male reader#geto x reader#geto x male reader#nanami x reader#nanami x male reader#wolverine x reader#wolverine x male reader#Deadpool x reader#Deadpool x male reader#price x reader#price x male reader#ghost x reader#ghost x male reader#laios x reader#laios x male reader#male reader#x male reader
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a place with you; luke castellan
wc: 2.8k (got a little carried away whoops)
pairing: luke castellan x f! reader
synopsis: luke is used to people coming in and out of hermes’ cabin without a second thought. so when you’re having a hard time adjusting to camp life, he doesn’t expect you to stick by his side, even after you’re claimed.
warnings/notes: shy reader going through a tough time, hurt/comfort, pining, kisses, fluff, potential ooc luke i don’t know what i’m doing, most of this is prob inaccurate lol, i got wayyy too attatched to this i am sorry, title inspired by dragon eyes by adrianne lenker
Luke Castellan is the son of a messenger. He’s used to delivering, passing things along, letting them enter his life and leave him. Sometimes it makes him angry. At his father, at the world, at himself.
So when you passed through the Hermes cabin for the inevitable few weeks before getting claimed by your Godly parent, the last thing Luke expected was for you to stay.
When you first got to camp you were terrified. Luke remembers that much. He can still picture you in Chiron’s towering shadow as he led you up to Hermes cabin. He gave you the usual spiel about the cabin, the land of the unclaimed, but it clearly hadn’t quelled your nerves. You were wringing your fingers together when Luke first spotted you, your eyes blown wide in what he knew as shock and a sort of . . . grief. For a life you’d left for what Luke knows as a life you’d never really have. He’d seen it in so many campers before you. He’d see it many times after.
“This is Luke, Hermes’ head counsellor and one of Camp Half-Blood’s finest,” Chiron pointed him out to you at the entrance. After Chiron introduced you, Luke held your name in his memory. Not because there was anything particularly intriguing about you at first, to be honest, because he’d seen a lot of people like you that needed help settling in (although maybe not many his age). It was harder for some people to adjust than most. He knew that better than anyone.
“Nice to meet you,” he stuck out his hand for you to shake after Chiron left. “I’m Luke.”
You sniffed, shaking it without looking at him. You were so, so embarrassed. This whole time you’d been too stupidly overwhelmed to process anything. Why was this so hard for you? Was it this hard for everyone? “Hi,” you managed, and that was it.
Now, weeks after your first meeting, you’ve concluded that it was not, in fact, this hard for everyone. The camp is crowded but full of life. You’ve never seen more happy kids in your life. There’s a sense of community on the wind.
So why can’t you feel it? Why is it so hard to connect with people? To participate in the fun? Everywhere you look there’s people but it’s all just so . . . lonely. You don’t fit. You’re lost.
Luke wakes up at night when the cabin door creaks open. He’s already tossing, so it’s no surprise he catches it. Unfortunately, he’s supposed to be a good counsellor—sneaking out at night is against the rules, and you’ve gotta reign the strays back in before they cause a ruckus. Sure, Luke’s not exactly a stickler for the law, but the least he owes is to make sure everyone’s safe.
Groaning, he draws himself out of the comfort of his bunk but doesn’t get far when he spots a familiar silhouette slipping out the door. He knows it’s you. He’s been hearing crying at night, and this is confirming his suspicions. It makes him ache in a million different places. Every time he thought about approaching you he shut himself down almost instantly, because who the hell wants some random guy coming up to them in the middle of the night and drawing attention?
This time, though, he’s a little worried.
It’s chilly tonight but not too bad, especially when you’re huddled up in a ball on a hill in front of the lake, grass tickling your ankles. Your tears keep you warm.
It’s a sorrow that feels bottomless. You don’t know what’s gotten into you. You don’t know why everything’s so hard.
There’s a scuffling of shoes, and your name is carried to you on the heels of a breeze. Oh God. There’s someone else here.
You sniff and smear your tears on the palms of your hands the best you can but a little part of you only wants to cry more now that you’re all anxious, and you only have a few seconds to collect yourself before you turn around and see Luke, your cabin leader, with furrowed brows. “Oh, h-hi, Luke.” It’s hard to ignore the splinter in your voice. You curse yourself a thousand times.
“Hey,” he says hesitantly, eyeing you in a way that makes you feel entirely exposed. “You, uh, you know you’re not technically supposed to be out here, right?”
You start to scramble to your feet with an apology on your tongue but surprisingly he laughs, a gentle sound, and beckons you to sit back down. “No, no, I’m not gonna get you in trouble or anything, just . . . letting you know.”
It’s uncertain if you should keep sitting, but you decide to because well, you’re already down here, and things can’t go lower than this. Luke comes to sit next to you and you stare out into the sea like your life depends on it. “Wanna talk about why you’re out here?”
“Wh-what do you mean?”
“I mean,” Luke sighs, scooting a little closer to you. “Most people don’t up and leave in the middle of the night because they’re having a great time.”
The answer is too hard to say so you don’t reply.
Again, Luke sighs, and you try not to look at the shadow the moon casts on his admittedly handsome face. “It’s hard settling in, I know. It happens to a lot of people. I’ve . . . I’ve seen a lot of them, and it doesn’t get any easier.”
“Well it sure seems easier,” you snap, and your self-control flies away before you can stop it. “I have no idea why I can’t just suck it up and fit in here. Everyone seems so happy and it’s driving me nuts because I’m just so confused on why I can’t—why I can’t—process any of it.” Tears burn your eyes. “I’m just miserable. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
In the corner of your view, Luke’s face falls. “I’m your guide, you know that, right? I can help you.”
You sniff, embarrassingly pathetic. “I know.”
He comes even closer. “So why didn’t you ask?”
“Because I—I don’t know, you’re busy all the time with all the people in there, so I’m sure your job’s already stressful as is, so—”
“My job is to help you,” he says, a hand on your shoulder. “That’s what I signed up for. If you need something, I’m the one to ask.”
“I’m not sure you signed up for me crying like a baby,” you swallow, the ripples of the lake blurring together. “I mean, I’m like, older than half the kids here, and they’re all so much better than me. I’m not good at a—anything, and I’ve tried it all, and nobody’s claimed me yet, and I feel so weird and old and alone and . . .” It’s too much to think about so you dig the heels of your palms into your eyes, hoping the sting wards off the thoughts. “What if I’m nothing? Why am I here?”
You’re crying again, hiccuping into your hands. Shame sears into you. Luke’s arm curls around your shoulders and you realize how cold you are when he’s warm, so warm, and you want to cry even harder. You don’t even know him, but it’s the most tenderness you’ve received in what feels like years. “Hey, deep breaths,” he murmurs, rubbing your arm with his other hand. “It’s okay. Look at me.”
It takes a ridiculous amount of strength to heed him. His hand catches your cheek and you can’t bear to pull away. Something strange rustles in your stomach.
Luke’s taught instinct when faced with situations like these is to reassure that the Gods always have a plan. But he doesn’t feel like much of a liar tonight. Both his hands steady your face towards his, your skin damp and cold beneath his thumb. “It's not your fault. It always takes a little bit of time for people to get claimed, it’s never . . . well, you can never tell.”
“What if I don’t get claimed?” You say it so quiet you can pretend it was imaginary.
His eyes crinkle at the sides when he says, “Well, Hermes’ll always have a place for you.”
I’ll, Luke wants to say, I’ll. His father is not responsible for his cabin’s kindness.
“No one really prepares you for how overwhelming this is,” he continues, thumb rubbing the apple of your cheek. Your vision is clearer now, and Gods, he is handsome, isn’t he? Even when his eyes are forlorn. “It’s harder in a way when you’re older. More to leave behind. Less to look forward to. It’s easier when you have a friend. Or a great cabin head.” He tilts his head with a faint smile, “Lucky for you, I’m both.”
It almost makes you laugh, and that’s enough. “It’ll get easier,” he promises softly. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”
Your cheeks burn. It’s hard to keep his gaze, so you blot at your eyes with your hands as Luke gently slides his off your face. “Thank you. Sorry for, um, all that. And the crying.”
He chuckles, “Don’t even worry about it.” You watch him rise in the throes of starlight. He offers you a hand. “Aren’t you cold?” He asks after pulling you up, and you sheepishly nod your head. He tosses you a sweater he’s been wearing, and it smells like firewood. Nostalgic, in a way. “I’m gonna poke around for some tea. Wait for me back at the cabin.”
Before he leaves, he squeezes your arm and that thing happens again in your stomach. “No need to be embarrassed, by the way. You can come to me anytime. I’m probably less busy than I look.” As he walked away, he added, “And don’t worry about the crying. You’re pretty either way.”
Either way. The tea doesn’t seem important anymore because your face is on fire.
Time reveals that Luke is right. He is a great cabin leader and a friend, and it’s hard to tell which he’s better at. You fall in with him right away. Soon enough, you’re drawn into your new life, so slowly you barely realize it’s happening. The days get shorter and you start wishing they were longer. The nights get easier. And when they’re not, Luke tucks you into his bunk and folds you in his arms until you drift off. You pick up a bow. A sword. Luke tells you to straighten your shoulders with a hand on the small of your back, and you swear it always lingers. You braid garlands of carnations for your cabin mates and they wear them with pride. It’s warm, your cheeks hurt from smiling, and things start to feel like home.
Until you’re claimed.
Now you’re a ghost in Hermes cabin, another empty bunk to be filled, and Luke stares at it until he can remember every last detail of what it looked like when it was yours. A beautiful, gentle daughter of Demeter, no longer in arms’ reach. He should’ve seen it coming.
He sees you with your siblings all the time. You’re so happy and he envies it. You belong there, he knows that, the way your face lights up at the dinner table and how you giggle when your half-sister presents you a flower. But sometimes your eyes wander, and something inside them dulls, until you look at him, too.
Luke’s place at camp is to be nothing but a funnel for lost campers to find their home. He’s a temporary stop in everybody’s journey. He’d made peace with it a long time ago. But here you are, messing it all up, because you still don’t leave him.
You beg him to give you another sword-fighting lesson. You sit next to him at bonfires. You pick him for partner camp activities. It doesn’t matter how many younger boys want to latch onto him for guidance—he sees you heading towards him, and he can’t imagine choosing anyone else.
But you’re always whisked away by your siblings, separated at meals and in sleep and in activities so it’s never, ever enough. Why did he delude himself into thinking you’d stay forever?
After weeks of distance from you, he’s elated when you have even a fraction of a conversation. “Hey, Luke!” You call out to him, and he finds you instantly. You’ve broken away from your siblings to get to him.
“Hey,” he smiles, and hopes he doesn’t look too pleased.
You lean a little towards his ear, and you smell like every wonderful thing in the world. “Can we hang out tonight? On the hill?” You’re a little bashful when you say it and it’s entirely endearing. Even now, you’re still so unsure. “I miss you.”
“I miss you too,” he says almost instantly, and it makes you look less nervous. “Yes. Absolutely. But don’t get caught breaking curfew now, you hooligan.”
Someone calls your name and you give a curt, playful nod. “Yes sir, camp counsellor sir!” He carries your laugh close to his heart until night falls.
You’re already there when he arrives, a vision in the moonlight before he even sees your face. “Hey, angel.”
When you turn around you look flustered. He won’t pretend like it doesn’t flatter him. “H—hi, uh, hello.”
There’s a moment where the world is still. The two of you, alone, for the first time in ages.
He sits down next to you, and it’s like the first time all over again. You get to talking, about your days, your anecdotes, your cabins. The strangeness of it all. “It’s so weird waking up in the morning and not having you yapping in my ear,” you remark, and he teasingly pushes your shoulder.
“Well, one of us has to be the talker, and it’s clearly not you,” he retorts.
You fiddle with blades of grass between your fingertips, weaving them together. “I’ll have you know I had a cabin-wide conversation about Capture The Flag yesterday, and I contributed greatly.”
“Oh, really?” He grins, knocking your elbow to steal your attention. “Look at you, coming out of your shell. I’m so proud.”
It’s hard to hold his gaze for more than a second. You’re afraid you’ll do something stupid if he keeps looking at you like that, but you almost want to. “Oh, shut up.”
He puts a hand on your shoulder. “No, I’m serious. I’m proud.” His eyes rake over your face. “You’re flourishing. You found your place.”
You can’t stop yourself from saying, “I kind of miss my old one.”
There’s a way he studies your expression that makes you feel utterly helpless. You wish you could dish it back to him, but you know you just look awestruck whenever you stare at him for so long. He’s quieter when he replies, “I miss it, too. A lot. Sometimes, I—” His face scrunches up like he just tasted something sour. “Nevermind.”
Frowning, you prod, “What? What is it?”
He sighs and turns to the horizon. This is the first time you’ve ever seen him struggle. “Sometimes, I wish you hadn’t been claimed. Sorry, that’s . . . that’s awful, I know.”
His surprise is evident when you say, “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t either.”
He turns back to you. “Really?”
“Really,” you nod, staring at the beads on his necklace. “You’re the only reason I’ve adjusted here at all.”
“Don’t sell yourself short.”
“It’s true. And I miss you.” A few months ago you would’ve kicked yourself for saying this. But Luke has a way of inspiring confidence in people.
“I miss you, too. So much.” He gently prys the grass you’ve been weaving out of your hands, now a small necklace. “But look at how talented you are. I’ll tell you, I’m lucky you’re still sticking around. For most people, Hermes is touch-and-go.”
Luke leans forward to tie the garland around your neck, and your pulse picks up. “This isn’t about Hermes, Luke,” you try to be firm but it comes out soft. “It’s about you.”
His hands stop fiddling and rest on your neck. When he speaks, you can feel his breath on you. And you have no idea that he’s been waiting to hear that his whole life. “What’s about me?”
It’s not fair, your inability to string sentences together only worsens right when a beautiful boy is this close to you. “Hermes isn’t—it’s not special because of your father, it’s special because of you.”
There is nothing else you can possibly think of saying with the way his fingers trace up your neck and hold your jaw. “Yeah, well,” he murmurs, “The only reason anything in my life is special is because of you.”
You don’t know if it’s a lie or not; you don’t care. His nose nudges yours. There’s a moment where you wonder if this is as close to Elysium you’ll ever get. Then he slips a hand to the back of your neck and pulls you to his mouth.
He kisses you in a near fury, then when he knows you’re not going anywhere, it’s the gentlest thing you know. It’s hard to believe this is even happening. Your hands weave through his curls but he holds you steady, and thank the Gods for that because you’re pretty sure you’re melting. You kiss again, and again, and again, until you genuinely think you’re going to pass out and you have to pull away.
“Aw, look at you,” he murmurs when you can’t meet his eyes, a playful lilt in his voice. “Still so nervous.”
“Would you shut up?” You press your face into the crook of his neck with a huge smile.
He kisses the top of your head. “Love to, angel.”
Luke Castellan is the son of a messenger. He’s supposed to believe he’s bringing the best of humanity to the Gods and glory above.
But screw the Gods. He’s keeping this one for himself.
#perrie’s fics#luke castellan#luke castellan x reader#pjo#pjo series#pjo x reader#luke castellan x you#luke castellan fluff#heroes of olympus#percy jackson#percy jackon and the olympians#charlie bushnell#this is far longer than i wanted it to be so sorry.#don’t usually write in 2nd person or present tense so i’m just trying not to look at it#the evil men with curly hair have won again
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enhypen’s hyung line reaction to their 3-year-old daughter being angry at them ᡣ𐭩
pairings. enhypen x fem!reader | genre. fluff, imagines | wc. 1k+ (?) | warnings. not proofread | an. hai i have returned from my grave :] /gen hope you all like thisbekdnd promise i’ll come back w something better ! just starting off with something small for the time being <3 didn’t expect this to be so long so i apologize :[ love n miss u all.
이희승 (lhs)
it was a typical afternoon in the lee house, but today, a dramatic showdown was in full swing. your 3 year old daughter, with her puffed-up cheeks and a frown that could rival a storm cloud, was clearly upset with her dad. you watched from the kitchen, trying to hold back a laughter, as heeseung crouched down at her eye level, desperately trying to placate her. "sweetheart, what's the matter? did daddy forget something?" he asked, his voice a mix of concern and confusion. she crossed her arms and glared at him. “you didn’t let me use the purple crayon!” she declared, as if this was the most grievous of parental offenses. heeseung, ever the diplomat, knelt down and tried to reason with her. “but princess, the purple crayon is for special drawings, remember? you promised to use it for your masterpiece.” her response was a huffy, “but i wanted to color the sun purple!” heeseung blinked, clearly trying to understand the logic behind a purple sun. he scratched his head and gave you a helpless glance. you only stifled a giggle and watched as he continued to negotiate. “okay, how about this,” heeseung began, putting on his best ‘super serious dad’ face, “i’ll make you a deal. you use the yellow crayon for the sun today, and tomorrow, i’ll let you draw a purple sun, a purple moon, and even a purple spaceship.” her eyes widened at the promise of interstellar coloring adventures. she uncrossed her arms and considered the offer. “deal,” she said, but not without giving him a stern look. as heeseung breathed a sigh of relief and stood up, you could see the sheer relief in his eyes. “you’re the best, daddy,” she said, her pout melting into a smile as she grabbed her yellow crayon. heeseung ruffled her hair and gave me a warm glance, his eyes twinkling with affection. “glad to be of service, princess,” he said, smiling as he watched her eagerly scribble away and winked proudly at you as you leaned against the counter, catching his eye with a loving smile.
( the rest under this line! )
박종성 (pjs)
it was one of those rare, peaceful evenings when the chaos of daily life seemed to take a break. you were curled up on the couch with a book, enjoying a rare moment of tranquility, while your husband was in the kitchen, attempting to cook dinner—a task he was only slightly more adept at than his three-year-old daughter as she created abstract art with spaghetti. the quiet, however, was abruptly shattered by a high-pitched wail. you looked up, immediately recognizing the sound of your daughter’s tantrum. you sighed and set your book aside, heading towards the source of the noise. as you reached the kitchen, you saw jay standing there, looking bewildered, while your daughter sat on the floor, her face scrunched up in a fierce scowl, tears streaming down her cheeks. jay was holding a spatula in one hand and a half-cooked piece of chicken in the other. “what happened?” you asked, trying to suppress a smile as you took in the scene before you. jay looked up, his eyes wide. “i don’t know! i was just trying to make dinner, and she—” he pointed to his daughter, who was now dramatically flailing her arms. “she’s mad at me for some reason. i didn’t even get to ask her how she wanted her chicken cooked!” you knelt beside her, who immediately stopped crying as if she’d just noticed you for the first time. “sweetheart, what’s wrong?” you asked gently. she glared at jay with all the intensity her tiny frame could muster. “daddy’s mean! he put peas in the pasta! i hate peas!” jay’s eyes widened in surprise. “i thought you liked the green bits of happiness!” she shook her head angrily. “no! no peas! only noodles!” you suppressed a chuckle and gave jay a sympathetic glance. “well, jay, it looks like you’ve got a culinary crisis on your hands.” jay groaned and you only smiled, your heart softening as you looked at the chaotic but lovable scene before you. “it’s okay, baby. just talk to her. maybe she’ll understand if you explain why you added the peas.” jay took a deep breath and crouched down to her level. “my sweet angel, i’m really sorry. i thought the peas would make the pasta taste better. can you give daddy another chance?” she stared at him, her little brow furrowed as she considered his plea. “but... no more peas?” jay shook his head earnestly. “no more peas. i promise. just delicious, no-green-thing pasta.” her frown slowly began to waver. “okay... but i want a strawberry smoothie please..” jay looked at you, his face a mix of relief and exhaustion. “do i look like a smoothie-making machine?” you laughed softly and gave him a reassuring kiss on the lips. “you’re doing great. and don’t worry, i’ll handle the smoothie.” jay smiled weakly and reached out to her. “deal?” she nodded, finally letting go of her anger and allowing a small smile to form. she reached up for a hug, which jay gladly accepted, pulling her into his arms. you watched the tender moment between them.
심재윤 (sjy)
jake’s face twisted into a comedic mix of confusion and concern as he tried to navigate his three-year-old daughter’s latest meltdown. you watched from the kitchen, holding back your laughter as jake, ever the doting father, attempted to reason with his little girl, who was currently giving him the coldest of shoulders while clutching a teddy bear like it was her lifeline. “baby girl,” jake said, crouching down to her level with a look of exaggerated seriousness, “i’m really sorry about the ice cream. i didn’t know you wanted bubblegum, okay? i promise i’ll get you the bubblegum next time.” her little brows knitted together, her lips in a small pout that would’ve melted anyone’s heart, except she seemed intent on maintaining her grudge. “no, daddy! you forgot the sprinkles!” jake’s eyes widened as if he’d been struck by a thunderbolt. “oh no, sprinkles! i knew i forgot something!” he straightened up, looking around as if sprinkles might magically appear in the room. “i’ll get you some right now.” as he stumbled off to find the elusive sprinkles, you couldn’t help but interject, your amusement barely concealed. “jake, honey, i think the sprinkles are a lost cause. maybe just a hug will fix this?” jake’s face fell slightly, but he quickly squared his shoulders and marched back over, now armed with a massive, exaggeratedly apologetic grin. “baby, i’m so, so sorry for forgetting the sprinkles. how about a hug and a promise to never forget them again?” her stern face softened just a fraction, but she still shook her head. “no hug! i’m mad!” you watched as jake’s comedic struggle continued, every attempt met with her determined frown. “okay, what if i also give you a big, extra special hug from me?” jake tried, eyes wide with hope. she looked at you, then back at jake, as if weighing the merits of his offer. with a dramatic sigh that would put a soap opera star to shame, she finally relented and held out her arms. “okay… but only if mommy hugs me too.” jake practically beamed with relief, enveloping her in a bear hug, which she returned with all the fierceness a three-year-old could muster. you joined in, laughing softly as you wrapped your arms around them both. “there we go, the family hug fix.” jake looked up at you with a mock-solemn expression, his eyes twinkling with the kind of mischief you knew all too well. “i’m really going to work on those sprinkles. maybe i should just carry them with me at all times.” you raised an eyebrow, smiling. your daughter now placid and cuddled in the middle, looked up at her parents with a satisfied grin. “but daddy has to do better next time.” jake nodded solemnly. “you got it. i’ll be the best sprinkle-and-ice-cream-daddy there ever was.”
박성훈 (psh)
sunghoon’s reaction when his little princess gets mad at him is always a sight to see. one afternoon, as you were trying to tidy up the living room, you heard the telltale stomp of tiny feet approaching. your daughter, with her pouty face and crossed arms, stormed into the room, her small brow furrowed in the most dramatic fashion. "daddy, i’m mad at you!" she announced with the seriousness only a three-year-old can muster. sunghoon, who had been helping you clean the coffee table, immediately straightened up, his eyes wide with concern. he was always so attentive, especially when it came to his little girl. you couldn’t help but chuckle at how seriously he took her tantrums. he knelt down to her level, “why are you mad at me, princess?” he asked, his voice as soft and gentle as it could be. she folded her arms tighter and gave him the classic toddler response: “because you didn’t help me with my puzzle!” she pointed to the half-finished puzzle on the floor, her tiny finger jabbing at the pieces as if they were to blame for her frustration. sunghoon’s face fell into a comically exaggerated look of guilt. “oh no— i’m so sorry! i was just finishing up, but that’s no excuse. let me help you right now.” he scooped her up with a dramatic flourish, and she squealed with both surprise and delight. as he carried her back to the puzzle, you could see the determination in his eyes as if he were about to perform a rescue mission. sunghoon took his job as a dad very seriously, and his efforts to mend the situation were both endearing and slightly over-the-top. “okay,” he said, placing her gently on the floor next to the puzzle. “i promise i’ll make it up to you. daddy’s going to fix this puzzle like a superhero,” with exaggerated movements, he started picking up the puzzle pieces and placing them in the correct spots. he made goofy sound effects with each piece, “whoosh!” and “bam!” as if he were fighting a villain instead of just putting together a puzzle. your daughter watched him with wide eyes, her previous anger melting away into giggles as sunghoon made silly faces and pretended to struggle with the puzzle pieces. as he worked, you could see the loving glances he would cast your way, his silent way of saying, “i’m doing this for us.” despite the chaos of parenting and the little disagreements, his devotion to both you and your daughter was always evident. his playful attitude and willingness to dive headfirst into whatever made his daughter happy were qualities you adored. after a few minutes, the puzzle was complete. sunghoon triumphantly held up the finished product with a loud— “ta-da! daddy’s superhero skills save the day,” he declared, his grin as wide as ever. your daughter clapped her hands and giggled, her earlier irritation forgotten. she threw her tiny arms around him in a hug, her face lighting up with joy. “thank you, daddy!” you walked over and gave sunghoon a quick kiss on the cheek, your way of showing your appreciation for his efforts. “looks like you’ve earned the title of super dad,” you teased. sunghoon beamed at you, his pride evident. “anything for my girls.”
#enhypen#enhypen fluff#enhypen imagines#enhypen scenarios#enhypen hyung line#jungwon#heeseung#sim jaeyun#park jongseong#sunghoon#lee heeseung#engene#enhypen heeseung#lee heeseung x reader#sunghoon imagines#jake enhypen#enhypen icons#enhypen reactions#jay enhypen#enhypen au
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Five More Minutes
Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader
Summary: Max delays the day, wrapped up in you.
764 words / Masterlist
The morning light filters through the thin curtains of your bedroom, casting soft, golden beams across the bed. You shift slightly under the warmth of the covers, feeling the familiar weight of Max’s arm draped across your waist. You blink a few times trying to wake up, but Max’s hold tightens as you attempt to move.
“Where do you think you're going?” His voice is low and rough, clearly still groggy from sleep.
“I have to get up,” you mumble, your voice equally thick with sleep. You try to wriggle free, but Max pulls you even closer his breath warm against the back of your neck.
“Mmm, no you don’t.” His arm snakes around you even tighter pinning you to the bed as he nuzzles his face into your hair.
You let out a small laugh as your body sinks back into the comfort of the bed. “Max, seriously. I need to get up.”
“Not happening,” he replies, his voice filled with a mix of sleepiness and determination. “I’ve already decided you’re staying right here.”
“Decided?” you tease, turning your head slightly to glance at him over your shoulder. His eyes are half-closed, but there’s a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
“Yep. It’s a race. Me versus your alarm clock.” He presses a kiss to your shoulder, his scruffy morning stubble grazing your skin.
“Pretty sure my alarm already won,” you mutter, trying to sound stern but failing miserably as his warmth melts you back into the mattress.
Max chuckles, the sound deep and lazy and you feel the vibration of his laughter against your back. “Nope. False start. Disqualified. My win.”
You groan, half in frustration, half in amusement. “Max I really have to get up. Work remember?”
He lets out a dramatic sigh, his lips brushing against your skin as he speaks. “Who needs work when you can just stay here with me? I mean really, what’s so great about getting up?”
You roll your eyes though he can’t see it. “I don’t know, maybe earning a living?”
Max hums thoughtfully. “Nah. Besides, I’m quite comfortable right now, and I’m pretty sure you are too.” His hand strokes your side, drawing small circles on your bare hip.
You bite your lip to keep from smiling too much. “You’re impossible you know that?”
“I’ve heard that once or twice,” he admits, leaning forward to press another kiss to the back of your neck.
You can’t help but laugh this time, shaking your head as you pretend to push him away, though your efforts are half-hearted at best.
“Just admit it. You don’t actually want to leave.” Max declares confidently.
“I didn’t actually say that,” you point out, though you don’t make another attempt to escape his grip.
Max raises an eyebrow. “Actions speak louder than words you know.”
You huff softly, turning in his arms so you can face him. His hair is a mess sticking out in every direction, and his blue eyes are still heavy with sleep, but there’s a mischievous glint in them that makes your heart flip. “You’re really not letting me go are you?”
He grins, the kind of boyish, cheeky smile that makes your stomach flutter. “Not a chance.”
You sigh dramatically, though the warmth of his body against yours is making it hard to pretend you’re actually bothered by this. “Max, I have to go to work.”
Max shrugs, his grip still firm but gentle as he pulls you even closer.
“You’re such a brat,” you tease, poking him lightly in the chest.
He catches your hand with his, intertwining your fingers. His thumb rubs circles over your knuckles as he watches you with those soft, adoring eyes. “So, can’t we just stay like this for a bit longer? I’ll make it worth your while. Maybe pancakes later?”
You quirk an eyebrow. “You? Making pancakes? Now that I’ve got to see.”
He grins wider. “I'm sure I can figure a pancake out, thank you very much.”
You snort, resting your head against his chest. “Sounds like a disaster waiting to happen.”
“Maybe,” Max admits, his voice vibrating against you. “But it can be our disaster.”
There’s a long comfortable silence as you let yourself relax in his arms, the steady rhythm of his breathing lulling you into a peaceful state. The outside world can wait just a little longer you reason.
“Okay” you hum eventually, closing your eyes as you snuggle deeper into him. “Five more minutes.”
Max chuckles softly, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Five more minutes,” he agrees.
#max verstappen#max verstappen x reader#f1 x reader#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen x you#max verstappen masterlist#f1 x you#f1 imagine#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#f1 fanfic#max verstappen one shot#max verstappen oneshot
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The Harkonnen's Loves
Dad!Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Mom!Atreides!reader
Summary in bullet points:
Your and Feyd’s four-year-old son is sweet like you but has a little love for violence like his father
Feyd gives your son his first blade
Feyd is soft for his family (I just think being in love and having a family would alter this psycho man’s brain chemistry a bit)
Notes: same Feyd x reader from The Harkonnen’s Sweet Thing and The Harkonnen’s Claim.
Warnings: a half-psycho half-sweet little boy, mention of blood and injury, mention of pregnancy.
Words: 1500
Feyd-Rautha Masterlist
Your son contains a sweetness. ‘Caladan Sweetness’ you call it, because your home planet was where your sweetness was born into you. Your father, the beauty of your home, the oceans and the fields bloomed you into the soft, sweet thing that your husband loves. And though your son has never seen the world you come from, that sweetness runs through his veins. His smile, his laugh, his power to draw those around him out of their Harkonnen-built shells—that all comes from you.
But at the same time, he is no less like his father. He adapts rather quickly to his surroundings. He has a natural curiosity for weaponry and blood and how one brings about the other. He does not hate the feel of a heart beating its final beat in his little hand—a feeling his father expressed would be better experienced young, and was done so after the slaughtering of a prisoner in front of the boy's eyes. Feyd had cracked open the prisoner's chest, taken his son by the hand, and guided his fingers into the open wound with the instruction to keep them wrapped around the organ until it no longer moved. You remember his eyes that day—round as saucers and sprinkled with excitement as he looked up at his father who ruffled his hair with a grin on his face.
He truly is a combination of you both; such beautiful balance has already taken shape in a tiny body. He will be a warrior built and molded by his desire to understand everything his father has to teach him. And yet, he will be gentle where necessary; you hope, one day, with a wife and children of his own. But it’ll be long before that day comes.
Then again, in some ways, he is growing so fast. For you, it could have been yesterday that you were pushing him out of your womb as your husband held your hand and kissed your forehead. At four years old, you still see him as your baby, but you acknowledge that Harkonnen blood ripens faster than the average child, and he has already begun to show signs of the man your brother prophesized him to be: one of the strongest alive; stronger even than his father.
That is why you’ve allowed Feyd to pace your son’s training—it’s his area of expertise. It is their bond, and you don’t interfere in those moments, opting to stay just out of sight.
“You're old enough now to have your own blade,” you hear your husband tell your son from your hidden spot around the corner.
You can’t hold back your smile at your son's uncontained curiosity as Feyd pulls the knife out from behind his back and presents it to the boy. It balances perfectly on Feyd’s palm as tiny hands reach up. Your son pauses, but when Feyd gives an encouraging nod, he plucks it from his father’s hand.
It couldn’t be a better fit. Not too long or heavy for his hand, but not too short or light. It’s a good starting blade to prepare him for the weapons that will grow in size as he does.
“You will be training with me every day from now on,” Feyd tells him.
The boy looks up from the knife to meet his father’s eyes. “So I can get strong like you, Daddy?”
“Stronger than me.”
Your son giggles, a wide grin breaking open his face. “No one's stronger than you!”
Feyd's features soften as he pats his boy's cheek. “You will be.”
“Will I be strong enough to kill Uncle Paul for stealing me and Mommy from you?”
You almost snort as you roll your eyes. Of course, Feyd told him the story. It was only a matter of time before he sat him down and explained the tale of your half-brother killing—or almost killing—Feyd in front of you, then holding you hostage upon finding out Feyd was still alive and demanding you be returned to him. In exchange for you and the baby he discovered you were pregnant with, Feyd swore loyalty to your brother. But your husband will not allow his bloodline to continue for generations under the thumb of Paul Atreides. And that starts with your son.
Feyd chuckles. “You will be strong enough to destroy your uncle and everything he loves.”
Finally making your presence known, you edge around the corner and lean against the wall. When Feyd sees you, so too does your son, and knowing the boy’s next move, Feyd takes the small blade from the even smaller hand.
“Mommy, I'm going to kill Uncle Paul!” he says joyfully as he rushes over and slams into your legs. “And everything he loves!”
“I heard!” you reply, grinning as you crouch down to his level and take hold of his hands. “But you know what? Little na-Barons who wish to take revenge on their uncles must first get a good night's sleep.”
“Ok!”
“I'll come check on you in a minute,” you promise him before kissing his cheek and sending him on his way. Your eyes follow him running down the hall until he’s safely behind the door of his bedroom.
Turning back to your husband and walking to his side, you say, “You told him.”
The tip of the blade pushes into his pointer finger as he lazily twirls the small weapon. “At his age, he should know who his enemies are.”
You slip between his muscled body and the table in the center of the common room where he sets down your son’s knife. With a closed-mouth smile, you hum. “And how did you start that conversation? ‘Uncle Paul made Mommy sad and Daddy mad’?”
“Something like that,” he confirms, leaning into you. His hands brace on the table, one arm at either side of your hips as he seals his lips to yours.
Feyd’s mouth moves at a slow, hypnotic rhythm but with an intense pressure that’s glazed in possessiveness. You can taste it. That ownership. That authority. He may not always fuck you like you belong to him—sometimes it’s your turn to remind him that he’s yours—but his kisses have never been anything short of claiming. Gentle or rough, slow or frenzied, short or long enough to make you forget what world you’re in, a kiss from your husband ends with the reassurance that he wants you, he loves you, and he won’t ever let you go.
His hands move to your neck, thumbs pressing into the curve of your jaw to hold your head still and you moan from his cool fingers soothing flushed skin. Your lips part and his tongue licks into your mouth. It plays with yours and then retreats. Teeth sink into your bottom lip, lightly tugging before he pulls back to rest his forehead against yours.
“How's our other one?” he asks as a knuckle draws a line from your jaw to your neck to your cleavage. His eyes follow as it continues past the neckline of your dress and down your sternum, stopping at your stomach where his fingers splay wide. His eyes flick up to yours.
“Strong…like you,” you say, placing your hand over his. “...and like him.”
Your husband nods, exhaling a light sigh of relief. “Did they tell you?”
You smile. “They think it's a girl,” you answer.
A few thumps of your heart pass as you await his reaction, but then Feyd smiles with you.
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@avidreader73 @alwaysadreamingoptimist @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom @workof-a-rr-t @midnight-serendipity @minedofmoria @aoi-targaryen
#feyd rautha x reader#feyd rautha x you#feyd rautha#dune part 2#austin butler#feyd rautha harkonnen#dune#feyd rautha fic#feyd x reader
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