#and it should have that should have been the only outfit he wore the entire game

[todayisafridaynight]

i think what anon means is drawing them as runaway brides in those big dramatic wedding dresses

Omg runaway brides with the big dramatic wedding dresses……

[vnti-vnxiety-recs]

STRETCH (M)

★ PAIRING: cheerleader!Jaemin x cheer captain!Reader

☆ WORD COUNT: 4k

★ GENRE(S): smut

☆ SUMMARY: Jaemin can't fit into his cheer uniform anymore because he's been working out too much. While you can't help but admire his muscles, you realize the entire team is admiring him too and that's not going to fly. You decide you need to take action and get Jaemin a new uniform

★ ☆ WARNINGS:  unprotected sex, creampie, semi-public sex, explicit sexual intercourse, MDNI

☆★ NOTES:  The concept of cheerleader Jaemin is just too hot to me so I had to spin the block on this one. Continuation of Team Spirit! that can be read as a stand alone!

────୨ৎ────

Jaemin has been bulking up lately. He had always been really into fitness and a bit of a gym rat, but since joining the cheerleading squad, he hadn't had time for his regular workouts, Now with competition season over he was back at it and you couldn’t help but notice the results. His chest looked fuller, and his arms rippled with defined muscle, showing off all the dedication he’s been putting in.

But as much as you loved his body, it was definitely time for him to size up his uniform.

His chest was starting to press tightly against the front of his shirt, the stretchy spandex doing little to hide the swell of his muscles. The uniform shirt he wore was a crop top that showcased his abs. That was a sight that was already causing issues, stealing your attention at the wrong time. But this? This was far beyond what anyone should have to deal with. The fabric was strained to its limit, and each breath he took only made it worse.

You doubted that going up a size in spandex would make much of a difference, but something had to give—he was practically bursting out of his uniform. You couldn't take your eyes off him.

Standing on the opposite side of the gym, you watched him closely as he moved. Sweat glistened on his brow, and his toned arms flexed beneath a snug black spandex top. To be honest, it was quite a sight. You enjoyed observing the way his body moved in the uniform, but then reality hit when you noticed the rest of the team admiring his outfit as well.

The fun was over, that shirt had to go. You weren’t deaf to the whispers that drifted around the locker room when your teammates thought you weren't listening. You overheard them making comments about how good he looked. You had to forcibly push aside the twinge of jealousy that threatened to creep in, reminding yourself to stay composed and maintain a level head. You were captain, you couldn't just go on a jealous rampage.

You did eventually find a bit of solace in making those who had whispered about him run extra drills. It felt good to dish out some consequences for their gossip. Plus, the glare you shot their way throughout practice was enough to let them know you were aware of their little comments. After that, suddenly no one had anything to whisper about anymore.

Strange how that works.

You walked into the locker room after practice, a small bag in your hand. “I ordered you a new top,” you said casually, trying to avoid eye contact. Jaemin was always able to read you like a book and you were beyond embarrassed at the fact you couldn't focus during practice because of his boobs. He did not need to know what thoughts swirled around in your head.

Jaemin's head turns towards your direction, a curious expression on his face. "What's wrong with the one I have now?" he asked.

You shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. "It's getting stretched out. It's time for a new one."

He looked unimpressed, clearly not buying your excuse but after a moment of silence, he shrugged and said, "Okay."

It wasn’t until Jaemin put on the new uniform top that you realized the mistake you had made. As he stood in front of you in the locker room, the shirt hung loosely around him, nearly swallowing his athletic frame. The baggy sleeves sagged at his arms, and the hem of the top drooped far below his waistline. You could see the dissatisfaction written all over his face as he scrunched up his nose in distaste.

"Uh, this… isn’t really the right fit, is it?" he asked, trying to tug at the fabric to adjust it.

"I swear it looked smaller online." You mentally kicked yourself for not double-checking the sizing.

Jaemin turned to face you fully, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. "So, what? I’m just going to run around in a tent now?" His tone is playful.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair in frustration. "I’ll order you something else. I promise I’ll get the right size this time."

"I just don't see what's wrong with my old one," he said, pulling the shirt over his head and tossing it aside.

You hesitated, trying to find the right words as you eyed him. "D-don't you think the other one is a little tight?" you ask.

Jaemin shrugged, clearly unfazed. “Feels the same to me.”

You took a breath, trying to be subtle. “In the chest area,” you emphasized, hoping to steer the conversation in the right direction, trying to give him as much of a hint as possible without sounding too blunt.

He paused, a thoughtful look crossing his face as he glanced down at his torso. “Is that so?”

“It’s just that your old one hugs your body… a little too well, you know?”

Jaemin's eyes widened as he caught on. "Ohhhh...I see.” A smirk played on his lips. “Then I think it fits perfectly."

For a moment, you were at a loss for words. The way he looked at you—the confidence mixed with mischief—made your stomach flutter. You felt yourself blush, caught between wanting to call him out and being completely distracted by how effortlessly charming he was. "I'd agree if the entire team didn't think the same thing," you muttered, trying to deflect.

Jaemin's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Kinda like how the gym feels about you and your cute little spandex shorts during summer practice?" he asked, voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

You felt your face heat up as he mentioned your shorts. You'd always thought they were just a comfortable choice, until the day he told you how much they showed off your ass and banned you from wearing them. "They're comfy," you said defensively, trying to brush it off.

Jaemin raised an eyebrow.

Okay, whatever," you huffed, eager to shift the topic. “But back to the point, this was supposed to be about finding you something that actually fits.”

"So what if it's a bit stretched out now? It's got character. Plus, it's like my lucky shirt now."

You shook your head, laughing. "Lucky shirt?" You echoed, incredulous.

He nodded, a fierce look on his face. "You can't keep your eyes off me when I wear it, so it must be lucky,” he says.

You groaned inwardly; he was going to be so insufferable in that shirt now. Why had you ever mentioned how it affected you? You could already tell he was going to exploit this newfound power over you.

Rolling your eyes with a shrug, you replied, “Whatever.”

You’d just have to come up with another plan to get rid of that shirt once and for all.

—

Ever since you discussed your thoughts on Jaemin's shirt, you could swear it had gotten tighter. You were convinced that the shirt held some sort of magical power of enchantment because you couldn’t focus. You were missing cues and forgetting routines left and right, all while Jaemin pranced around in his annoyingly snug shirt.

It was almost as if he was wearing a compression shirt that not only accentuated his chest but also highlighted his stupidly disgusting slutty waist that you definitely didn’t want to grip onto while he pounded you into the nearest surface. You were losing your grip on reality, and all of it was thanks to him and that evil shirt.

You found yourself watching Jaemin when you really shouldn’t. He was in the middle of his routine, and you had only seconds left before your cue to come in on the opposite side of the mat. You didn’t have time to think about your face buried in his chest, or how firm it would feel under your fingertips.

Your teammates began to notice your distraction, and whispers started to circulate about your sudden lack of focus. "Dude, you okay?" one of them asked, nudging you playfully. You forced a smile, trying to brush it off, but you knew you weren't fooling anyone.

Suddenly you hated cheerleading. If it weren't for cheer, Jaemin would never have become a cheerleader, he wouldn't be sporting that top, and these thoughts wouldn’t be plaguing you now.

You missed your cue because of course you do, and the irritation in Seungkwan's expression was immediate.

“Okay, how about we take a break? I feel like everyone isn’t checked in today,” he said, his gaze sweeping over you with a pointed intensity. You roll your eyes instantly regretting making him your second co-captain next to Nayeon.

As you step off the mat you go straight to your water bottle, you need to cool down. Your eyes naturally find Jaemin and you swore you saw a brief smirk flicker across his face, only to vanish just as quickly. Did he think this was a game? Did he find it funny?

You would show him funny.

When you showed up in the spandex shorts Jaemin had banned you from wearing to practice, there was no humorous twinkle behind his eye anymore when he'd caught sight of you. His face fell, eyes glued to your thighs.

“Oops,” you said playfully, walking past him with a bounce in your step. As you moved, you could feel his gaze lingering. "Let's have a good practice today, everyone!" you called out to the floor

Nayeon leads the stretches, and you follow along with the rest of the team on the floor. You don't bother pulling the hem of your shorts down when they roll up, knowing full well what it did to Jaemin. You  sit on the floor with your legs straight out Infront of you in a seated pike stretch. You reach out to touch your toes, tilting your head just enough to catch Jaemin’s reaction in the corner of your eye. Just as you expected his eyes haven't left your ass since you walked into the gym.

You pulled yourself back up straight, trying to play it cool as seungkwan announced for everyone to find a partner for stretches. Jaemin was at your side in a heartbeat.

“Next break, you’re changing out of those,” Jaemin says firmly, leaving no room for argument. He pulls you to stand in front of him, your back to his chest. His grip on your waist is strong. His hands travel and In one fluid motion, he grabs your thigh spreading your legs apart, then slides down the back of your thigh until he hooks under your knee. With a gentle lift, he raised your leg into a heel stretch, his fingers gliding sensually up your leg until they rested at your calf.

“Says who?” you challenged, trying to maintain your composure. “These are comfy, and they let me stretch to my full potential.” You tilt your head to look at the position he’s bent you into.

He’s so close that you can feel his breath against the back of your neck, the heat radiating from his body pressing against you. You could feel that he’s hard pressed up against you.

“Also, I don’t remember asking for your permission to wear whatever I want,” you add.

Jaemin stretches your leg a little further, not enough to hurt, but definitely enough to make you feel the burn.

“You’re going to take them off, or I'll do it for you.”

As you stretched, a whine escaped you, and your lips instinctively pouted. "Fuck you," you spat out.

His response came swiftly: "Watch your mouth." He spits back.

He slowly lowered your leg, and once you caught your breath, he met your gaze with a challenging look in his eye. Jaemin was the sweetest thing but he would always be quick to put you in your place when you step out of line. He gestured for you to drop into a split, and with a subtle dip of your head, you secretly rolled your eyes but reluctantly obeyed.

You ease into a split and Jaemin situates himself on his knees behind you, his body leaning against yours in a warm press of heat. He gently pushes you forward, his hand gliding down to rest on your lower back for support. You lean into a saddle split, hands splayed out in front of you as you stretch forward.

Jaemin adds pressure and you're forced to delve even further into the stretch. His body provides an added push against yours, testing your limits. You grit your teeth, drawing on your flexibility to hold the position, but you could feel the burn.

It's not easy to hold the position, even with how flexible you are. You're used to bouncing back up, shaking out your muscles, and moving on to the next stretch. But with Jaemin's guidance, you're forced to push your boundaries and remain still, letting your body adapt to the demands of the stretch.

"Jaemin let me up." You huff.

“Gonna take ’em off?” he quips, a teasing lilt in his voice.

“Fine!” you relent.

Jaemin allows you to sit up and once you catch your breath he helps you stand. He looks you in your eyes as he tugs on the hem of your shorts, pulling them down just enough after they’ve rolled up, raising an eyebrow at you in a silent dare. "Keep them that way," he stated with an air of authority, making your cheeks burn in annoyance.

“Okay, guys, back to your positions! We're going to start routines soon!” Nayeon called out.

With Nayeon and Seungkwan in charge of leading stretches, it was now your turn to step up and guide the rest of practice. You burn holes into the back of Jaemin's head as he joins up with Shotaro as practice officially starts.

—

After everyone else had cleared out, you found yourself cornering Jaemin in the locker room.

“This isn’t fair,” you grumble, crossing your arms. “If I can’t wear my shorts, you aren’t allowed to wear that stupid crop top.”

Jaemin turned to you, a playful glimmer in his eyes. “Is that what this is about? Can’t keep your eyes off me, so you decided to pull this stunt? I thought you were more mature than that, baby." His smirk widened as he leaned against the locker, arms crossed over his chest. The way that obnoxious top clung to his newly bulked-up frame was maddening.

“Newsflash, Jaemin. I wear those because they’re comfy.” you shot back, rolling your eyes as you stepped closer to confront him. "You wear that shirt because you like, some kind of attention whore. How do you even breathe in that thing?” Your voice echoed slightly in the empty locker room, bouncing off the tiled walls.

His laugh was low and utterly infuriating, the casual way he dismissed your frustration only stoking the fire inside you. He pushed off the locker, closing the distance between you in two easy strides. Suddenly, his hands landed on your hips, warm and firm, pulling you close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him.

“And what if I am?” Jaemin murmured, his breath brushing against your ear. His fingers dug into your waist, holding you firmly in place. “It got your attention, so what are you going to do about it? You gonna punish me for it?”

Your breath hitched. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. You were supposed to be mad at him. But the way he looked at you, all dark eyes and that cocky grin, made it hard to think straight.

“Maybe I will,” you shot back, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. Your voice wavered just a fraction, betraying the confidence you were trying to project.

Jaemin’s smile deepened, and before you could react, he spun you around, his body pressing your back against the cold metal lockers. He pinned you there, solid and unyielding. One hand slid up your side while the other gripped your thigh, lifting it over his hip slightly so he could press himself closer.

“Go ahead,” he dared, his voice dropping to a low growl. “Punish me.”

The challenge in his tone sent a shiver down your spine. You could feel how hard he was pressed against you, and it took everything in you not to squirm. Instead, you raised your chin defiantly.

“Don’t think I will?,” you warned, though your voice came out softer than you intended.

Jaemin’s lips curved into an amused smile, and he leaned in, his mouth brushing against the shell of your ear. “You won't.”

His hand slid to your hips, fingers slipping past the waistline of your shorts to toy with you. You bit your lip to stifle a gasp, but it escaped anyway, the sound embarrassingly loud in the quiet room.

“Let me hear you baby, I know.” he teased, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your clit. “I can tell, you know. Every time you look at me during practice. You get that naughty look in your eyes when you know you're supposed to be focusing. Bad girl.” He coos.

“Shut up,” you muttered, though your protest lacked any real conviction. His touch was too distracting, his words too close to the truth.

Jaemin chuckled, pulling his hands from your shorts. “Make me…or are you done pretending to be in charge.”

That did it. You shoved him back, pressing your palms against his chest. He stumbled slightly, his back hitting the row of lockers opposite you.

For a moment, you just stood there, breathing heavily, staring each other down. Then, without thinking, you closed the gap between you, grabbing the hem of his stupid uniform top and yanking it up.

Jaemin’s eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t stop you. You tugged the shirt over his head and tossed it aside. You let your gaze roam over his body, taking in the changes that had occurred. His shoulders were broader than before, his chest more defined. The faint trail of hair leading from his navel downward made your mouth go dry.

“Happy now?” he asked, his voice rough.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you leaned in, catching his bottom lip between your teeth in a quick, punishing bite. He hissed, but his hands immediately found your hips again, pulling you flush against him.

“Not even close,” you whispered against his mouth before kissing him properly, hard and demanding. Jaemin responded instantly, his tongue sliding against yours, his hands roaming your body with a urgency that made your head spin.

Somehow, you ended up on the bench, his weight pressing you down into the hard wood. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a path of fire in their wake. You arched into him, your hands tangling in his hair as he kissed his way lower, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just above your collarbone.

“Jaemin,” you gasped, your voice barely audible.

He lifted his head, meeting your eyes for a brief moment before capturing your mouth again. His hands slid under your shirt, cupping your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. The sensation made you moan into the kiss, and Jaemin grinned against your lips.

“Not so bossy now huh captain?” he murmured.

You glared at him and opened your mouth to retort, but the words died on your tongue as his hand slipped lower, past the waistband of your shorts. His fingers brushed against the slick warmth between your legs, and you couldn’t stop the tremble that ran through your body.

“Fuck,” you breathed, your nails digging into his shoulders.

Jaemin’s smile was downright predatory as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours. “You’re so wet already,” he whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction. “All because of me? or maybe it was because of that crop top you claim to hate so much? You like it, admit it.”

You wanted to deny it, to push him away and regain some shred of control. But instead, you tilted your hips, silently urging him on. His fingers dipped inside you, slow and deliberate, and your head fell back against the bench.

“Jaemin,” you moaned, his name becoming a broken chant on your lips. His thumb circled your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through your core. You writhed beneath him, desperate for more, but he kept his pace agonizingly slow, drawing out every sensation until you thought you might explode.

“Tell me what you want,” he said, his voice dark and commanding.

You shook your head, refusing to give him the satisfaction but Jaemin wasn’t having it. He withdrew his hand, leaving you aching and empty, and propped himself up on his forearm above your head to look down at you.

“Say it,” he demanded, his eyes burning into yours.

You swallowed hard, your pride warring with the need coursing through your veins. Finally, you gave in, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I want you. All of you. Now.”

Jaemin didn’t need to be told twice. Jaemin swiftly strips you down, his hands moving with practiced ease. The cold wood of the bench bites into your back as you make contact, sending a shiver down your spine. The locker room was cool and you can’t help the goose bumps that prickle your skin. He reached for the waistband of his pants, shoving them down just enough to free himself. Once he's between your legs you reach out, gripping him in your warm palm and stroking him over a few times. His mouth hangs open in pleasure. He watched, breathless as you brush his tip against your entrance. Once you dip the head in he's taking over again and pushing his hips forward to drive into you in one smooth motion. The gasp that escaped your lips was swallowed by his mouth.

He starts at a brutal pace, not in the mood for anymore games. His hips snap against your ruthlessly and you have to wrap your legs around his waist to stop yourself from sliding off the bench. Jaemin groaned, his forehead resting against yours as he moved.

“You feel so good,” he breathed, his voice ragged. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

Your body trembles as the pressure builds inside you. He slips a hand between your bodies to toy with your clit. You arch your back in response. As your legs began to tremble, you felt Jaemin's smile pressed against your skin when he kissed your shoulder.

“That's right baby. Is this what you needed?” he murmured between choppy breaths, his voice low and sultry.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head at his unrelenting thrusts and cruel fingers. You didn’t respond, couldn’t respond. Your mouth opens to respond; you know better than to remain silent, but nothing comes out. You nod your head lazily instead.

He shakes his head at you disapprovingly. “You know that's not good enough princess. Use those fucking, words.” He punctuates each of his words with a toe curling thrust of his hips as he pumps into you.

“Yes! F–fuck, don't stop.” You cry.

“Mmm,” He moans before leaning down to kiss you again. The kiss is wet and full of tongue as he licks into your mouth. “Gonna fill you up.”

When you finally came, it was with a cry that echoed off the walls, your nails scratching down his back. Jaemin followed moments later, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep inside you. You shiver as his hot seeds spill inside of you. When he pulls out his eyes watch as his cum drips out of you. You reach down in between your legs and collect his cum before pushing it back inside of you with a moan.

“Don’t want to waste a drop.” Your voice comes out in a whisper.

Jaemin eyes you hungrily before he closes his eyes to take a deep breath. He needed to calm himself before he had you pinned up against the lockers next.

Jaemin gets up before he decides to have you again, getting off the bench to rummage through his bag. He comes back to you with a towel and cleans you up. He gathers your clothes and helps you dress again before following suit.

“So,” he said after a while, his voice still rough, “how do you really feel about the crop top”

You turned to look at him, incredulous. “Are you serious?” You couldn’t wrap your head around how he effortlessly switched from driving you wild to being your sweet boyfriend in an instant.

He laughed, a warm, rich sound that seemed to fill the chilly locker room, and pulled you closer. “Dead serious.”

You sighed, unable to meet his gaze. “I… I like it.” You admit.

Jaemin's smile widened, but just as he was about to respond, you jumped in to clarify.

“BUT! That doesn’t mean I’m letting you wear it to practice. We’re going to order you the correct size, and as for that one,” you said, your gaze narrowing playfully at the shirt still lying on the floor, “that one is for my eyes only.”

“Deal.”

[oddproperty]

change of heart

masterlist here

✧ hi!! just a bit of writing for fun, enjoy :)

✧ word count: 2.3k

✧ pairing: lando norris x reader x (somewhat charles leclerc)

✧ 'suddenly unapproving of your interest in charles, lando reminds you whose guest you are.'

***This is a work of fiction. The story, names, characters and incidents either are product or the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.***

passing through the lobby of lando's apartment, you caught your reflection in a mirror, stopping to smooth the red silk dress against your body. having bought it only a few hours ago, you were pleased with how well it fit. the material of the dress fell over you just right, bringing attention to your curves. usually you don't wear red, but tonight it seemed appropriate.

-

"lando…this is so last minute," you sighed into the phone.

"it seriously should not take you that long to get ready…plus, charles will be here," he teased. this taunting behavior between you two was normal, having been friends for years.

"wow lando! that'll definitely make sure i have a dress for tonight!" you feigned excitement. “is he going to buy it for me too?”

"i'm sure he will in return for something else," lando joked slyly.

you were lando’s closest friend. when he made it into formula 1, it was common for you to be at his races and afterparties. you were able to meet all the racers and have good friendships. however, it was clear that charles enjoyed your presence in the paddock seemingly more than lando. never failing to talk to you after every race, holding your attention at the afterparties, and similar things were normal practice. lando noticed you showed interest back, and he never seemed too fond of this connection. you assumed it was because, at times, you and lando had been flirty with each other…although it never went further than sly comments and a light touch here and there on nights where you both had been drinking too much.

"you're sick…i'll be there."

-

arriving at his door, you heard the music already sounding. you got there early and were surprised that it sounded like the party already began.

your knocking on the hard door received no answer. after trying twice, you began fiddling through your purse to find the spare key he had given you in case of emergencies. slotting it into the door handle, you looked into his living room where a dj booth stood, but no lando.

"lando?" you called out over the music. no answer.

having been in his apartment probably more than your own, you made your way to the hallway with his bedroom. you hoped your heels clicking on the hardwood flooring would be loud enough to alert him. trying to call out his name once more, you received nothing back.

entering his bedroom, you caught the reflection of him dressing in the overly large mirror that always faced his bed. you never thought too deep into it being there, and frankly, you didn't want to. you remembered all the times lando made sly remarks of showing you why he had it there.

he wore an all-black suit with the first two shirt buttons undone. the shiny necklace he had worn for the majority of his life shining brightly through the gap. a glass of whiskey rested on the table nearby. of course you thought him attractive at least once in the duration of your friendship. his curly hair, hazel eyes, and of course the physique that formula 1 training had brought him. this outfit pointed all of his features out to you more than normal.

"pregaming?" you ask, pointing to his drink as you enter the room. he jumped at the intrusion, but relaxed when he sees that its you. you see a look of disappointment quickly show on his face as he leans against the table, grabbing his glass to take a sip. you watch as he takes the strong liquor with no reaction, making a quick glance at the half-rolled sleeve that displays his tanned, strong forearm.

"you know that papaya would have been a much better option. think it suits you waaay more," lando drug on, obviously displeased at the red dress.

you roll your eyes playfully, ignoring his sly comment, "where can i get one of those?" pointing to his glass.

he makes his way toward you. you carefully watch his strides as they close in on the doorframe you're standing in. his broad shoulders dwarf your own.

pointing at your dress and touching it lightly, you already feel overwhelmed by his small touch. "maybe charles can fix you one when he gets here,” he taunts you.

anytime lando could use your crush to embarrass you, he was on it. this playful banter was usual between you and him, though he currently seemed a bit more adamant.

"actually…i think this one is perfect," you say, taking the drink out of his hand. finishing it, you turn on your heels, making your way back to the living area. you hear lando trail behind, grumbling.

-

as the night continued on, you realized this party was a lot bigger than you had expected. the entirety of lando's living room, kitchen, and balcony were overcome with people. you were able to hear conversations coming from every angle, along with the semi-loud music that blasted through the speakers. you sipped from a complex and tasty drink he had made you earlier (after he got over himself) that made you quite tipsy. admiring the environment around you, you frequently saw lando djing his heart out. given your state, you began to notice just how nicely his defined arms flexed from under his black shirt. how his curly hair lightly fell over his forehead as he focused on the turntable in front of him. and the way the necklace he wore sat perfectly over his (admittedly very kissable) toned neck and chest. thoughts flit across your mind about how you should've taken him up on his offer to learn why his mirror is facing his bed.

breaking your one-sided staring contest - and to remove these thoughts about your best friend -  you shook your head slightly. when you glanced back up, you caught his eye, and noticed the look of slight concern on his face. he raised his eyebrows in a questioning expression, to which you smiled back at him languidly.

suddenly realizing just how much you liked the drink he made - and your sudden interest in being near him -  you made your way to lando to ask for another. brushing against everyone as you made your way through the crowd, you almost missed the large hand feather over your lower arm. when looking down, you noticed the signature richard mille timepiece.

turning around, you exclaimed, "charles!" while pulling him into a hug. his hands rested gently on your waist as yours laid across his neck. the scent of sandalwood and bergamot enveloped you, making you pull him impossibly close. the alcohol in your system was not working in your favor around him, but you were glad to center these thoughts on him and temporarily forget the ones of lando.

after a moment, you began to pull away. admiring him in the dim lighting, you noticed the black and white suit he wore, along with the thin red tie that almost matched your dress. it was more formal than what most were wearing, but he looked amazing. you slowly ran your free hand down the arm of his suit jacket, taking in the soft material. his hands remained on your waist as he watched you closely. you felt shy under his gaze.

removing a hand, he brought it up to caress the side of your face. he pulled you in, angling your ear to his mouth in order for you to hear him. you felt his slight stubble gently graze your cheek.

"you are so pretty," he expressed meaningfully, "red is gorgeous on you."

"i’d say it looks good on you as well," you responded, moving your hands to gently pull on his silk tie.

"wish i could see you in red all the time," he suggested, using the hand that was on your lower back to delicately bring your core flush to him. even in your inebriated state, you immediately knew what he was hinting at.

pulling away from his face slightly, you felt the warmth of his breath graze your cheek and could smell spiced rum from his lips. you could've melted into the strong hand on your lower back. you're not sure if it was the alcohol amplifying the sensations, or if the moment was truly that intoxicating, but you felt warm all over.

gaining awareness of the situation, you returned to the side of his head to whisper in his ear, "i'm not sure how much lando would like that," your lips brushed the top of his pronounced cheekbone.

charles quirked an eyebrow at you and responded, smirking, "why are we asking lando for permission?" the sweet, delicate demeanor he had when he approached you was fading, slowly replaced by a drive to assert his feelings for you with no regard to anything in his way. it was alluring to see him in this new light, so confident to show you what he's truly thinking. this possessive streak sparked a flaming heat in you that went straight to your core. using the hand that was already on his arm, you gripped it slightly tighter, steadying yourself to avoid becoming dizzy from the overstimulation of the moment.

having not heard a response from you, he pulled back from your ear slightly to analyze your face. it was clear he was looking for any signs of apprehension. there were none.

"hopefully i do not have to ask lando about the other things i want to do," he added, dangerously close to the shell of your ear. your skin erupted in goosebumps from his warm breath.

you paused to take in this moment. your slightly inebriated state allowed you to feel everything much more. you could tell his breathing had increased from your hand on his chest and your core, which was still pushed flush against his. you gazed up at him, noticing the slight lowness of his eyes. evidence that he was, as you were, in the 'drunk and interested' state.

between the alcohol having its effect on you, the heat of this moment, and most importantly, the man in front of you, you pull back slightly and shift your eyes away to lighten the intensity you were feeling. almost immediately, you make eye contact with lando. he is once again behind the dj booth, drink in hand and holding a suspicious look on his face. you notice his eyes glance down to your core, where charles is connecting the two of you. lifting both of his eyebrows slightly, you can almost sense a twinge of jealousy on his behalf. watching him, you see him take a sip of his drink before drifting out of your view.

your suggestive thoughts about lando from earlier in the night come rushing back to you.

"what are you thinking about?" charles asks lightly, bringing your attention back to him. you gaze into his blue eyes, feeling dizzy once more.

clearing all inappropriate thoughts of your best friend from your brain once more, you respond, not breaking eye contact, "was thinking about getting another drink."

"another one?" a throaty british accent spoke, almost as if on command. you glance over your shoulder, unmistakably recognizing the curly haired man beside you. "i knew you'd like that one," lando states, pointing at your empty glass proudly.

before you can fully acknowledge lando's presence, you were being guided away by him to the kitchen, his hand replacing charles' on your lower back. his, however, was a rougher and more urgent touch. as you brushed against everyone in the crowded room, you turned around to look at charles, shooting him a pained glance and an 'i'll be right back' look.

directing your attention back to lando, you stopped in your tracks. he looked down at you, pleasantly diluted and arrogantly smirking.

"are you seriously that dull?" you shout at him, ensuring he could hear you over the music. a couple glances were thrown your way, but it didn't phase you.

he watches you for a moment with the same languid expression, making you shift your weight between feet, slightly uncomfortable under his gaze. that is until he leans down, nearing the shell of your ear. you slightly shiver, both from his warm breath trailing down the side of your neck, and the idea of him being so close to you. your thoughts of him earlier resurfacing in your mind. suddenly you were very aware of how low his hand laid on your back. you clenched your legs slightly.

"if you knew who you belonged to, i wouldn't have to be dull," he teased lowly. "whose hands belong on you, hm?" you felt the hand on your lower back grip the fabric of your dress tighter.

goosebumps formed over your exposed skin at his vulgar words. this possessiveness was so completely different from charles' it made you squirm. feeling his smirk grow against the edge of your ear, you knew he noticed your change in behavior...and it was clear he liked it.

you were not at all pleased with him pulling you away from charles, but you were interested in seeing how far you could make him go. his words obviously showed his interest in blurring the lines of your friendship, so you decided to match his attitude. sure the drink you had was probably spurring this behavior on, but it wasn’t the first time you had thought about this.

looking up at him, you could see his blown pupils. the hat he had put on earlier was now turned backwards, pushing his curly hair down to his forehead, which glistened slightly. thoughts of charles slowly left your mind for the final time tonight. 

you moved closer to his tall frame, slightly pushing your chest against his, "can’t stand not getting what you want?” 

he shook his head left and right slightly with not a shred of shyness in his gaze, “can’t stand when someone touches what’s mine.”

[suiana]

✎ yandere! dilf headcanons . . .

✎ warnings . . .

― obsessiveness, possessiveness, manipulation(?), mentions of violence, implicated stalking and stealing, legal age gap, breeding kink 💀, etc.

(gn! reader x male yandere! oc)

✎ yandere! dilf who hired you as his son's tutor. he's just so worried that his darling son won't be able to keep up with school :( as a result you were hired to tutor him :D he actually doesn't know how you look like yet, but guessing from your profile picture you're a granny..?

✎ yandere! dilf who couldn't help but be enamoured with you the second you stepped inside his house. wait why were you so cute? didn't he hire an old- huh?! oh that was a picture of your grandma... oh well, he shouldn't have guessed. how else is he supposed to calm his boner now?

✎ yandere! dilf who's watering at your innocence. oh you're such a sweet thing! bright eyes sparkling with the desire to teach his son! your future son! he's so glad he's divorced... he's dead set on making you his beloved little thing. and you can't do anything to change it~!

✎ yandere! dilf who falls for you more and more with each tuition session. oh you just look so adorable! and that outfit you wore last session! it was so cute! he really had a hard time holding himself back you know? he's imagining tearing apart your outfit while marking you up now-!

✎ yandere! dilf who is older than you. I mean, he literally has a 15 year old son so it would be expected that he's old. but... he's still handsome! so you can consider him... right? oh please give him a chance! he'd hate to have to break you down completely :( yes he's that in love with you to the point where he won't mind breaking you down and rebuilding you to how he wants you to be ♡

✎ yandere! dilf who's extremely flirty and embraces his dilf-ness. rolling up his sleeves to expose his veiny forearms, unbuttoning his top two buttons to expose his defined chest, subtly flirting with you every time he sees you... just two tuition sessions ago he stood so close to you to the point where you could smell his cologne and see his man boobs?! you had to spend that entire tuition session clenching your fists just to focus. oh those sexy man boobs! his cleavage ! why is his body so sexy?! don't worry, if you wanted to touch he'll be more than happy to let you feel him up :)

✎ yandere! dilf who can't stop thinking about bashing in the heads of anyone who's glanced in you. no one should be taking in your divine self except for him and his son. those trash can't worship and love you like he does. hm... maybe he should just kidnap you? keep you all to himself. yeah, that sounds like a good plan.

✎ yandere! dilf who has a little shrine dedicated to you in his study. aw, how cute! it's just a small picture of you and a flower- wait is that your missing underwear? and is that your lost diary?! why's your entire schedule noted down with lots of hearts scribbled on it?! how'd he- there's no way he stalked you... right?

✎ yandere! dilf who gets his son to talk to you about how he's so lonely and wants another parent desperately... you're smart so you'll get what he means, won't you? after all, can you resist those watery eyes and the slight sniffling his son is doing? and he's sure you don't have any other tutees due to how much he's paying you already... so it's alright to be his, no?

✎ yandere! dilf who wants to breed you. it doesn't matter whether or not you can actually have children, he'll still want to breed you. imagining you round and full with his children... it just turns him on oh so much.

✎ yandere! dilf who really wouldn't mind a new addition to his family. I mean, for the past... 11 years it's only been him and his son :( and he finds it so lonely in his big mansion without anyone to accompany him... you understand what he's saying right? don't worry, you'll never have to lift a finger again should you accept his offer. he's rich after all :)

✎ "hn? oh my son did good, huh? should I reward you for being an amazing tutor? I know just how to thank you after all..."

[pombeom]

okay never rlly done this before but here me out, txt fic inspired by "guess" by charli xcx and billie eilish. i dont have a member preference but i based it on tae (›´ω`‹ ) HERE ME OUT roomatetyunx reader. txt and reader's friend group decide to go out for dinner/clubbing. reader has secretly been liking tae for a WHILE, and THIS WAS THE NIGHT. and reader puts on a very VERY short skirt/dress (they know what they were doing) and purposely leans down when tae is behind them *evil laughs*

(also imagined it as afab but idrc)

sorry i dont have anything else to add but you now have the reins (๑˘ꇴ˘๑)

guess | taehyun fic (nsfw)

nsfw, mdni!

pairings: domroommate!taehyun x subtease!reader

warnings: soobin present at the start, lots of mentions of underwear, teasing, fingering, scissoring, wall sex, creampie, squirting, messy sex, taehyun is kinda kinky, panty stuffing, mentions of exhibitionism, they both have sex while standing up, taehyun gives orders and reader follows, nicknames (baby, slut), unprotected sex, lots of dirty talking, am i forgetting something??

a/n: thank you so much for your request! decided to go with taehyun cos i could envision your request so clearly. you guys are such teases istg but im all here for it 🤧

Being Taehyun’s roommate isn’t for the weak. The way he’s come back after his daily workouts in his compression shirts with his hair pushed back made your knees quiver every time he would walk in through the door. You swore it was a secret you guarded with your life but everyone around you seemed to know of your little crush. Your friends managed to catch on as soon as they witnessed your head swivel whenever he’d walk past, staring a little too longingly in his direction. 

“Y/n you should just tell him at this point. I can’t watch you drool over him any longer, it’s gross,” Soobin advises you on your way out from class. 

“No but what if doesn’t feel the same way?” 

“Trust me. He does. And if he doesn’t then that’s his loss. I’ll bag you up if he doesn’t want you,” his wink had you reacting with a disgusted scowl.

“Anyway, we’re meeting up for dinner this Saturday. One of our friends has had to cancel last minute so there’s an extra space in the reservation. Wanna come? Taehyun’s coming too you know. Maybe you can finally tell him how you feel.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Oh come on. We’re heading the the club after. It’ll be fun.” 

“Fine. Only because you insisted.” 

“You don’t need to lie to me. I know you’re only coming cos Taehyun’s coming.” 

“Shut up.” 

By the time Saturday evening rolls up, you had planned your outfit and gone through your confession speech multiple times. You finished your hair and makeup and slipped into a black mini dress that was slightly too short but it hugged your figure so well that you wanted to show off as much as you can. You pair it with a black kitten heel, preparing for your time at the club later that night. But most importantly, your needy cunt was exposed through the black lace underwear you wore under your tiny dress. 

Feeling a sense of feigned confidence, you step out of your room, heading into your shared living space where Taehyun was waiting. He’s sat sprawled across the armchair, taking up the entire seat as he manspread whilst scrolling through his phone. Upon hearing the clacking of your heels, his head jolts up taking in your presence. He eyes your naked thighs, feeling the sharpness of his gaze lasering through your legs making your knees go weak. 

“You look nice,” his compliment has your confidence crumbling as you instantly resort back to your usual shyness. 

“Thank you,” your voice comes out more strained than you wanted but this was a reaction to the current wetness building up in your folds as you begin to notice the way his shirt clings to his body, looking almost see-through under his brown jacket. 

“You ready to go?” 

He follows you to the door when suddenly you pause.

“Hang on. Just need to fix my heels. The strap is a little loose.” 

You arch forward, bending down to reach your shoes as the back of your dress rides up. You felt exposed as your underwear was evidently wet but you sought the thrill of provoking a reaction from the man behind you. Even as you were still bent down fumbling with your straps, you felt his gaze staring heavily into your core, past the black lace fabric. 

“Ok, I’m done. We can go now.” 

You hand barely reaches the doorknob before you’re being pulled back into his chest. 

“You think it’s funny to tease me like that?”

“Mhm?? What do you mean?” 

“Playing dumb won’t work on me.” 

“I don’t get it. What are you talking about?” You kept egging him on with your masquerade of innocence, each step getting him a little further to your desired goal. 

“You’re still gonna keep going with that? Even after you flashed your underwear to me?”

“What? I did that? Really? I bet you don’t even know the colour of my underwear.”

“Oh baby, I don’t even have to guess. I saw that black lace with my very own eyes. That little bow was cute too.” 

You hadn’t noticed until you felt his breath against your neck but he has inched closer to you, his arms slowly crawling up your legs, grabbing onto your waist. Your cheeks burned from the closeness you had been longing for. 

“You wanna tell me you did that on purpose or are you gonna keep pretending that you flashed me by accident?” His voice grumbled, echoing through the chambers of your mind. 

Your breath was shaky and unstable as you managed to answer his question, “It was on purpose, Taehyun.”

Before you knew it, his lips came crashing onto your, sucking the life out of you. The lustful kiss had you moaning into his mouth as his tongue darts into yours, claiming you for himself. 

“I knew it. Now take those panties off.” 

Lifting your dress up, you slip your underwear down, letting it fall to the ground as the wetness begins dripping down your legs.

“Shit, look at you. Fucking drenched already. Bet you’ve been dreaming of this: wanting to strip naked in front of me just so I can get a look at how much of a slut you are for me. Am I right?” 

“You’re righ- ahh!” 

His fingers circle your entrance before you get then chance to finish, teasing your hole. Before long, he pushes in 2 long fingers, struggling to keep going in your tight, clenched pussy. 

“God, are you a virgin? You’re so fucking tight.” He groans as he manages to get his fingers deep into your core, feeling the tightness squeeze his digits. 

“Mhmm… I am. Wanted your cock to be the first inside me.” 

“Fucking hell. You’ve been waiting for me all this time huh? Guess I’ll have to give you everything you’ve dreamed of.” 

His fingers scissor you walls, stretching you out in preparation for his cock. The way your muscles are pulled sends shock waves running down your leg, almost losing sensation in them as you’re on the verge of collapsing, gripping onto Taehyun’s shoulders for support. 

“I want your dick in me. Now!” You demand. 

“Why so desperate? You’ve been such a tease and you won’t even let me finger your cunt. But ok, I’ll give it to you. Just don’t expect me to go easy.” 

He unzips his trousers, pulling them down along with his boxers in one go. He strips himself of his jacket, remaining only in his white form-fitting t-shirt. 

His cock springs up onto his stomach. The tip is red while his length is girthy and long beyond average, the veins matching the ones that run up his forearms. He teases your hole by pumping just the tip in making you grind against him, hips rolling as you force yourself onto him. 

He pushes your back up against the wall, controlling your movement before slamming straight into your gummy walls, your moans shrieking out from surprise. 

“Fuck Taehyun! Keep going like that!”

His movements are controlled and precise, making sure to hit the g-spot with each pump. Your moans become uncontrollable with the increase in speed, crying as he slams into your repeatedly, abusing your cunt. 

He then lifts up your thigh, holding it against his waist, allowing him to hit different angles making your mind feel fuzzy at the new sensation. 

“Fuck. If you keep clenching round my cock like that, I might cum already.” His grunts are disheveled and all over the place as he begins to lose control over his speed, rutting into you like some dog. 

“I’m gonna cum too. Please. Please come in me.” Your whispers are the only sound that comes out you as your voice has cracked with all the screams you let out.

He spills his spurts inside you, coating your walls in white as you feel his dick throbbing inside your trembling pussy. Your orgasm hit like the ocean onto the rocks, the speed at which you came leading to a spray of liquid to shoot out. Your eyes instantly shut, feeling exhausted from being fucked out to your climax. 

“You squirted?” 

“I guess I did.” 

After letting your body cool down from the intensity, you pick up your panties, getting ready to slip them back on, when Taehyun’s voice hisses at you, grabbing your underwear from your hands before shoving them up your stretched hole, pushing it in deeper and deeper until it remains stuck in your sobbing cunt.

“Let’s see how you tease everyone else looking like this.” 

“But Taehyun, it was only meant for you. I can’t go out like this. Let me out them back on, please” 

“Only for me huh? You only want me to see you in this state?” 

You nod frantically, “You’re the one I like Taehyun.” 

“The little brat likes me. Well I like you too. Your pussy was made for my cock and you take it so well. But you still deserved to be punished for teasing me like that. Keep the underwear stuffed in your pussy and go put on another pair.”

Following his orders, you head back to your room, picking out some pink panties, feeling the black lace slipping out. You push it back in and secure it in place by hitching the pink pair up high. You waddle back to Taehyun who was now fully dressed again. Your legs feel uncomfortably shaky as you walk but his arms hold your waist, supporting you. He bends down checking that you’ve followed his orders, grinning with satisfaction as he catches a glimpse of the pinkx

“Good girl. Now no one can guess what you have going on under there but me.” 

[emsdevs]

If you had "dragged" Jack to the Eras tour he would have pulled out a bracelet he made based on your favorite song. It's a little sloppy but it's the thought that counts. He maybe also got you a clear bracelet to signify your invisible string and held you extra close when she performed it.

a/n: so sorry for the wait nonnie! I hope you like it still because I had wayyy too much fun with this one 🫶

All Too Nervous (Jack's Version)

Jack had been quiet all day. Well, he’s been quiet for the past week or so really. You thought he was excited to go to the Eras Tour with you, but now you weren’t so sure. He’d sat through the grueling ticket-buying process with you, even made you use his card. He had let you buy him matching outfits as well. Jack didn’t want to do anything too crazy for his half, telling you it would be your night so you should be the star of the show. While you had gotten the cutest custom bodysuit, boots, and karma jacket (in Devils’ colors of course), he simply wore a t-shirt with “KARMA” across the chest paired with his favorite pair of jeans and his well-worn AirForces. The outfits were even his idea, taking inspiration from the line “karma is my boyfriend.” 

What you couldn’t understand is why he suddenly seemed so hesitant to go. He was much quieter than usual, and it almost seemed like he was avoiding you for the past week or so. Now, the two of you were in an Uber, heading to MetLife for the show, and it feels like Jack is somewhere else. He has his knees facing away from you, and the only reason you two are even touching is because you grabbed his hand.

————————————————————————

Jack was a nervous wreck. If he’s this nervous about something so small and possibly insignificant, how bad will it be when he proposes? He feels like he might throw up, and he’s not sure why. You’ve always made him a little nervous. He’s always wanted to impress you, but it had never been this bad, not even when he kissed you for the first time. The worst part is that he didn’t even know when he should do it. Should he do it when you two arrive at the stadium? Should it be in between sets? Should he do it during “Love Story”? No, that’s too much like a proposal. Does she perform your favorite song? He could do it then. No, then you would miss your favorite song. He was spiraling while you were excited to see one of your favorite artists. He should not be freaking out so much over a friendship bracelet.

He’d spent the last week and a half working himself to the bone to make a bracelet perfect. He knew trading friendship bracelets was a big part of the fan experience at these shows, and you had mentioned that you’d be making a few to trade and give out. That gave Jack the idea to make you a special bracelet, from him to you. He spent a concerning amount of money on beads and strings, and he listened to more Taylor Swift in that time than he had in his entire life. 

Every chance he got, he was sitting at his kitchen table, trying his best to make a bracelet he thought would be worthy of sitting on your wrist. In between practices, before games, after games, no matter the time it was, if he was free, he was making your bracelet. The first one he made broke two seconds after he cleaned everything up. The second one, he just hated. He couldn’t give a reason, but he did not like it. The third he thought was perfect until he noticed half the letters were upside down.

He set in on the fourth bracelet, really taking his time. He took little details from your favorite songs and added the colors of your favorite albums. Eventually, he had a bracelet he was proud of, mostly. He knew it wasn’t perfect, and that was the main cause of his worries. He had run out of time, unable to make a fifth like he wished he could. This one was okay. It was cute but simple, and Jack knew he could do better. However, this would have to be the one he gives to you tonight, so he could only hope that you’ll like it.

————————————————————————

You and Jack had finally arrived at MetLife. You were walking to the line, ready to inside, when he grabbed your hand, pulling you aside. Just when you open your mouth to tell him the line is the other way, you notice the nervousness on his face and the way he’s keeping his hands stuffed in his pockets. 

“I umm… I wanna give you something before we go in. It’s not much, but I… I thought you might like it, and… yeah,” he felt like he couldn’t breathe, terrified you’d hate it. He pulls the bracelet from his pocket, slowly placing it in your now-opened hand. You weren’t saying much, only staring at the bracelet in your palm. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not the best, but I just wanted to do something for you. The beads are kinda of see-through, so you can see the string I used. It’s um… it’s one of the clear ones so it’s like all of our invisible strings. I tried to use the colors from your favorite album too since they’re all color-coded ya know? And-” he was stopped in his tracks when you looked up at him with that bright smile he loves to be the cause of.

“Jack, you made this for me?”  you look away from the blush that’s spread from his neck to his cheeks and the tips of his ears in favor of looking at the bracelet again. He wasn’t lying, you had seen and made better bracelets than this, but none of them meant what this one did. It had colorful, transparent beads in no specific order to pattern, and you could see the clear string he had used to tie them all together through them. In the middle of all the beads were three little white beads with letters on them, Jack's initial and your initial with a heart in between. Honestly, it looks like something an elementary school boy might give to his crush on Valentine’s Day, but you loved it all the same.

“Yeah! I uh spent a lot more time on it than I’m ready to admit,” he let out a chuckle hoping some of his nerves would go with it.

“I love it, Jack. It’s perfect,” you hug him tightly, kissing his cheek as you go in for the hug. You can feel the sigh of relief he lets out at your reaction.

“I’m so glad you like it. Let me help you put it on,” he pulls back grabbing your hand that had no bracelets on the wrist, ready to receive them in trades. He grabs the bracelet, moving to put it on your wrist when he notices something off. “Wait! Is the J upside down? Are you kidding me? I tried so hard to get all the letters the same way on that one,” he sighs as the bracelet finally sits on your wrist where it belongs.

“That one? Did you make more than one, J?”

“Let’s not talk about it. Aren’t you supposed to be giving me a bracelet now? That’s how trading works, Babe.”

You giggle before pulling the perfect bracelet off of your other wrist. You had made it with Jack in mind. It was filled with light green and a few light teal beads, the letter beads in the center reading “OUR SONG”. It was one of Jack’s favorite Taylor Swift songs, and although he’d never admit it to anyone, you two sang it to each other quite often. Well, it was more like you were yelling the lyrics at each other, but you two were having fun. You cherished the smile on his face when he realized what song the bracelet was themed after before grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the line.

————————————————————————

That was easily the best night of your life. You were practically buzzing by the time the timer had counted down, and when Taylor popped up from the floor, Jack was wondering how well he’d be able to hear at the end of the night after all your screaming. You two had swayed together during “Lover”, singing to each other while your head lay on Jack’s shoulder. You sang “Fearless” to him, telling him it always makes you think of him (“You run your finger through your hair, absent-mindedly making me want you”? If that isn’t Jack what is?), and he sang “Love Story” to you. You both dramatically sang “tolerate it” to one another, pretending you could relate. When the “reputation” set started, Jack was sure he’d lose his hearing. Either way, both of you were jamming out to every song in the set, Jack being a little more excited for “Look What You Made Me Do” since it reminds him of his career. 

The “Speak Now” era began, and you both sang your heart out to the only song in the set. “Enchanted” had been on your and Jack’s shared playlist since you got together, so it was a little surreal to be singing it with Taylor. In the “Red” era you were lucky enough to get a song added to the setlist, “Nothing New” with Phoebe Bridgers. Soon, you were in “folklore” and singing and dancing to every song. Next was the era you had been waiting for, “1989”. The entire album made you think of Jack, and it was one of the first you were able to talk him into listening to. You screamed the lyrics of “Style” and “Blank Space” to one another, dancing to “Shake It Off” and adding more drama for the “Wildest Dreams” and “Bad Blood” mashup.

Finally, it was time for the surprise songs. Before Taylor even sang anything, she debuted the “Karma” music video with Ice Spice. When she grabbed her guitar, you couldn’t believe your ears. She had begun playing one of your favorite songs, “Getaway Car”, and Jack Antonoff came on stage to help her perform it. When she moved to the piano, she played a song that Jack loved, “Maroon.” When you two finally made it home, you were still reeling.

“Did you enjoy your night, Baby?” Jack asked as he knelt to take your boots off for you.“I had the best night, Jacky! Thank you so so so much! I can’t believe we got all the surprises that we did!” you were still bouncing off the walls, although exhaustion was starting to settle in. After Jack took care of your boots, you both began undressing so you could get ready for bed. Jack watched you carefully take off the bracelet he had given you, placing it in your jewelry box with all the nicest jewelry you own. He’s sure he felt his heart stutter at that moment, but he ignored it in favor of getting ready for bed. Soon, you were both cuddled up in bed, sharing your favorite parts of the night before falling asleep, still tangled up in each other.

tags: @heartsforjh @fofiquierellorar @justxpaulina @alex-wotton @devilinpradaheels

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[evandsolo]

𝐈𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Bang Chan

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Bang Chan x f!reader 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : royalcore!Bang Chan. Flirt. Smut (more suggestive than fully described but still.) MDNI 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 3.426 𝐏𝐥𝐨𝐭 : Amid whispers of silk and shadows, a lady-in-waiting and the kingdom's fiercest general find themselves entangled in a dance of flirtation and unspoken promises. WARNING UNDER THE CUT ! UNDERAGED PEOPLE PLEASE DO NOT READ! 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : This was actually written for one of my friend whose a Stay ! But i thought it should not stay in my computer, so enjoy ! ✿ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, unprotected sex, fingering, aftercare. Please let me know if i've forgotten any.

The room was packed. The orchestra had played non-stop for hours. The rustling of silk and taffeta had filled the room all evening. It was a magnificent reception. One that no one will forget. One of those evenings that celebrate love and union. The ballroom was decorated with flowers, from floor to ceiling, the buffets overflowing with food. I had never seen such beautiful decorations before. Everything was simply sublime. Generals, soldiers, highnesses from all the surrounding kingdoms, everyone breathed joy and jubilation.

I could never have dreamed of a more beautiful event for the princess I had accompanied my entire life. Alina deserved the union of love she had experienced today, so much did her heart overflow with love and kindness. Everyone knew it, she would be a wonderful sovereign.

The crowd had ended up scattering, dissipating, as the night wore on. The bride and groom had received many congratulations until the last minute. They too had ended up slipping away, to enjoy this new union together. Only a few people remained in the room, who were still accompanying the orchestra. Some were still waltzing and would surely do so until dawn.

“You’re not dancing?” A voice called out from behind me, over the flying notes of the violins. “You’ve been here all night, making merry for everyone, but you haven’t stepped on the dance floor once.”

I turned around to look at the person who had surprised me, tearing a heartbeat from my chest. I come face to face with broad shoulders, covered in a velvet soldier's jacket. My breath chokes in my throat. I would recognize these shoulders among many others. General Bahng, head of the kingdom's armies. 

“How do you know I did not dance, sir ?” I answered, catching his huge brown eyes. 

It wasn't the first time we met. He was always there, around, since Alina's engagement. Watching over her, over the kingdom. I was always lucky enough to be able to admire him. He wasn't very tall, but he knew perfectly how to handle swords, which didn't take away from the natural charisma he gave off. In the outfit he wore tonight, in the colors of the kingdom, he shone all the more. A few strands of rebellious hair fell over his forehead and his smile could have melted any of the ladies present tonight.

“I’ve been watching you. You’re glowing, how could I look away?” He said with an amused smile. The sparkle in his eyes had never seemed so bright to me as it did at that very moment.

“So you didn’t have an eye on the bride and groom? You’re failing in your duty, General.” My tone echoed his. I clasp my hands behind my back, looking completely innocent. “Thank you for the compliment.”

“Come dance with me. That way I can keep an eye on the apple of the kingdom.” He then extends his gloved hand towards me and I observe him for a few seconds before slipping my hand into his. “I hope you are a good dancer, General. I wouldn’t want to make a fool of myself in front of this huge crowd.” I joked before following him a few steps further, onto the dance floor.

The last couple still present leaves the dance floor and we find ourselves alone, with just the orchestra. The violins begin to resonate, then all the sweetest notes of the wind instruments follow and finally, the piano rises in turn. 

I feel his hand come to close on my waist while the other one tangles around my fingers. We were so close that I could feel his breath, crashing on my face. I come to place my hand on his shoulder and in rhythm, we begin to waltz. His eyes catch mine and I think that at that precise moment, I forget reality. I dive into his gaze and there is nothing more than him and me. Everything disappears in the room, as if a bubble had formed around us. 

The music takes me somewhere else. I forget everything, I think of nothing more, except the warmth he diffuses in the hollow of my waist. The ease with which we understood each other in gestures. Everything seemed terribly natural. As if we had always danced together. Then, his hand leaves mine, to come and grab my waist, letting me gently go backwards, before coming back to hold me against him. His smile does not dissipate and in his gaze, I see only joy and a certain form of tenderness, which I had never seen in him. My smile became wider as my cheeks turned a little bit rosier. 

“Why're you blushing ?” He said. “Are you that surprised to see that I can dance ?” 

“Actually, I am ! I never thought you were so talented. I have to admit that the surprise is rather pleasant.” I admitted, with a slight smile. “Did you practiced for this evening?”

“Not for tonight in particular. But any self-respecting man must know how to turn his date’s head. And I was hoping one day to have the chance to make you twirl.” 

Those words took my breath away. For a few seconds, I found myself staring at him without really understanding. Our steps stopped abruptly and I almost fell, tripping over his feet. Have I heard correctly? Or even understood what he meant?

“Be careful my Lady.” He said, catching you. “ Never thought that admitting I've been thinking about you day and night, would have that effect on you.” I see the mischievous glow in her eyes and the small smile that adorned her lips. All signs that did not deceive. I had understood well the first time.

“ You can't say that, General.” I mumbled, blinking a few times trying to stop the rush in my chest. 

I could not deny the fact that the General was probably the most handsome man I had ever seen, nor even the attraction that might exist between him and me. It was not the first ball we shared, there had always been this particular feeling in the hollow of my belly when he was close. Like a cloud of butterflies, which suddenly fly away. My gaze was undeniably drawn to him. 8So hard that it was difficult to look away. There had always been this tension between him and me. That kind of invisible link, against which I could not go. 

“Why? I have said nothing...” he breathes with a smile of amusement, making me whirl again, before stopping on my wrist. His thumb traces the edge of the ribbon that was tied on it. A garnet red satin ribbon. A gift he made me at the last ball we attended. We had been talking until late at night, by the fountain in the winter garden of a neighboring kingdom’s castle. Around a huge bouquet, I found a ribbon, which he had untied, before coming to tie it around my wrist. He kept some in his jacket pocket. Since then, this piece of cloth has never left my skin. It was dear to me.

“You kept it...” he said in a whisper, the eyes shining with a new light. “It beautifully brings out your porcelain skin. Red suits you so well.”

“Why should I not keep it? You don’t throw away a present. I like it. It reminds me of that wonderful evening we shared.” Say I in a breath, while his thumb continues to electrify my skin, as he holds me so close, that I feel his breath on my cheek. In a graceful movement he makes me spin again on several turns, before abandoning me in the middle of the track, alone. His laughter echoes through the room as I look for him. I find him further away waving something red between his fingers. It is fine and above all, it reflects the light. I quickly understand what it is, when I look down on my wrist, now naked. 

“If you want it.... Come and get it, My Lady.” He said before running away into the halls of the castle in a playful laugh. 

“General ! Come back !” I shouted, before I set out to chase him. 

I do not know how many corridors or intersections I take, just by following the echo of his laughter. It sounded like a little bell, which pointed the way. I felt my breath burning in my chest as I walked across the open patio to look for him. Suddenly, his laughter fades and I stop, my chest rising at a frantic pace, as I try to catch my breath. 

“General, where are you hiding?” I throw, breathlessly. I hear noise on the stone behind me, but when I turn around there is no one. Frustration fills my entire being as I call again. "General? Give it back to me!” 

“Don’t you like to play, my Lady ?” I heard, as a distant voice that reached me like an echo. I turned again to move forward, but I had the impression of chasing a ghost, under the lights of the torches that adorned the walls and the moon, which entered through the openings. I knew how much he loved to play. It was his thing. Charm and play. But tonight it was getting cold and especially it was late. Yet I wanted to get back what was mine. 

As I turned into another corridor, wishing he was there on the other side waiting for me, a hand grabbed mine and I suddenly hit the cold wall. I found myself surrounded by his perfume, the scent of mint, mixed with apple, geranium and vanilla, intoxicating me. His breath is stranded in the hollow of my neck, all against my skin and it’s a huge shiver that runs through me. 

“Do you plan on giving me my ribbon back now?” I throw while trying to keep up. He runs my skin with light kisses for a simple answer before facing me. “Don’t be so hasty... Why not make the evening last a little longer?” He said, drawing a line of kisses along my jaw.

“We’re in the middle of a corridor.... That’s not right. Someone might see us.” I whisper, eyes half closed, while one of my hands comes to slide around his neck, to go caress his hairline. 

“Who cares ? Don’t you think we should finish what we started… that other night?” He stands up and looks into my eyes. I can read a lot of emotions in it. The glow that shines is no longer just playful. The flame that now inhabits his eyes, makes me shiver. 

“Here? Now?” I ask, in a small voice. I had no apprehension, I was perfectly confident. “General. Your impatience will lose you...” I breathe, letting my hands slide on his shoulders. 

“Here, now. I can no longer contain the envy that devours me. Is it worthwhile to wait? I want you.”

I want you. 

These words resonate in me like an echo. They trigger like a cataclysm. Suddenly, I feel dizzy again, as if some barriers had fallen. I watch him lean down, getting closer and closer to kiss my cheek, then the corner of my lips. I lose breath.

“I want every inch of you.” He whispered against my skin, before locking his words in a kiss. It is hot, desperate. I savor the depth of it. I give it back with much more aplomb. Nothing holds me back. It was as if, all the desire I tried to restrain, had escaped to take possession of every cell in my body. One of his hands leaves my waist to go up along my bust and run down on my chest. The contrast between the warmth of his skin against the fabric and the freshness of the marble against my back, gives me the feeling of consuming myself on the spot. 

I could feel this knot take possession of my belly, as our skins rub against each other, intertwine. I end by breaking the kiss, to let my lips run aground on his jaw. I feel his hands, on every inch of my skin, like a thirsty man looking for an oasis in the desert. Quickly I feel it in my back, come to grind the fabric of my corset. The latter is undone more quickly than it should be, piteously lying on the ground. 

“I wanted you for so long… You cannot imagine how long my soul has been calling to you.” He utters between two kisses laid down along my skin, pulling me almost a whimper. I feel it coming to mark my skin along my bust, on the curve of my chest, up to my belly, covered with lace. His hands, meanwhile, were already exploring my legs, under the silk of my skirt. “Let me love you as no man will ever love you.”

“Love me. Make me yours.” I whisper slightly tilting my head back as I feel the pulp of his fingers go up along my thigh. It’s so close and my whole body is burning to know it even closer as it goes up. It’s slow. Almost too slow. It gives birth to desire in me, it animates, and gives me the impression of burning from within, so much the envy seems to consume me. I had never felt anything so strong, but never had I wanted it so much. I was his, in the shadow of the moon, only spectator of what was happening. 

A moan escapes me as it makes its way under the fabric to seek what was most intimate in my core. I cling painfully to him, my hands seeking support where they found it to keep me in balance, while waves of pleasure are making their way into the hollow of my belly. His kisses rise up to come and run down my neck. His fingers were playing with me, as if he already knew me by heart. I could feel it everywhere and nowhere at once. On me, in me, it felt like it was in every inch of my core. 

I come to tighten my grip on it, as I feel this bubble growing in the bottom of my stomach. It is threatening like a wave that grows again and again as it comes to stoke the fire. I drop my head on his shoulder in a moan. It is omnipresent, I feel like I have only him, all around me. To be surrounded only by his being, his perfume, his skin. 

“Not so fast, my Lady.” he whispered in the hollow of my ear, coming to take off his hand, and I suddenly felt like an orphan. I wanted more. I whine in protest. I almost begged him with my gaze. I wanted it, without waiting. What was he playing at? 

In a burst of frustration at having been cut off in my flight, I reversed our positions, to come in turn steal countless desperate kisses. I come to mark his neck, while I am busy on his jacket, which falls to the ground in a deaf noise. Quickly and clumsily, I come to untie his shirt to infiltrate my hands under the fabric. I needed his warmth, his touch, to feel his skin under my fingers. I feel him tremble at my passage, as I leave a line of wet kisses on his skin. I savor the lines drawn of his musculature under my fingers, tracing it without forgetting a tiny patch. 

“Why make me wait if you wanted it so much?” I ask against his skin, as I now snatch up to the buckle of his belt. I trace it with my fingertips. “I don’t want to play anymore.” I mused as I now stared at his hungry look. “You knew I would die of envy. Why leave me there, consumed by desire?” 

“It will only be more delicious.” He says in turn, as I slide my hand under his belt to feel all his desire, marked by the lack of space and the stretching of the fabric under my fingers. “It’s better to reach the summits together, my sweet.”

I finally untied the buckle of his belt, then the opening of his pants and let my hands venture to the edge of his underwear and finally under the elastic. I grasp the full measure of his desire, trapping a little bit of my lip between my teeth, without ever ceasing to stare at him. I could almost see the flame dancing in his eyes. There is lust, love, passion in the way he looks at me, while my hand plays with him, surrounds him, tastes him. As a fair return, of the game his hands had played a few moments earlier. A moan escapes his throat, and it’s my turn to leave his skin. I take my hand back, with a slight smile on my face. “Not so fast, Christopher...” I threw, amused, teasing him with his name muttered. 

“I didn’t know you were such a player...” He said, as I came to prick my mouth with countless kisses, while I found myself again, cornered against the stone wall. His hands quickly come to grab the fabric of my dress to pull it up to my waist. The pulp of his fingers against my skin electrifies me and I gurgle with impatience against his lips. “P-Please…” I beg him with a breath, as his thumb touches me. I wanted it all. I wanted no more barriers between us. I’m busy sliding his pants down his thighs, while quickly, I feel the lace grounding at my feet. 

Then, finally, he comes to grab one of my thighs and lifts it up against his hip, so that our bodies can align perfectly, and in a passionate kiss, our bodies unite, with a slowness, but a passion that knows no equal. He waits a few moments, before I look at him and beg him to continue. I feel it everywhere, in the slightest movement. Each thrust takes me into a world where there is no more than us. 

I come to put my head in the hollow of his neck, to try to smother pitifully the moans that escape me, while he fills me with the most natural way. I feel it collides with the center of my pleasure and I cling not to lose my anchor with reality. But I feel the waves take possession of my lower abdomen. The knot is febrile, it threatens at any moment to explode and overwhelm me completely. 

“More.. please…” I groaned against his skin, I needed more. I wanted to touch the heavens under his touch. He tightens his grip on my hips, before coming to slide his hands under my buttocks to lift me completely and I close my trembling legs around his waist. I feel it further away at each thrust and none of us is able to hold the slightest sound that escapes our bodies while our eyes cross again.

“You’re perfect.” He said, while thrusting harder, deeper, until I felt the knot exploding. My vision fills with stars, and for a few moments nothing is clear around me. My breath is short, jerky. I feel my core clenching around him as he reaches his high. He then let his head fall back on my shoulder, while he moaned my name in a last stroke. 

Our bodies separate after a few seconds and I rest my feet on the ground, without really letting go. I still needed an anchor to make sure that I had not dreamt what had just happened.

“Are you okay, my Lady?” He blows, lifting the cloth up on his body to cover himself again. I nod my head, while taking a breath. “I am fine, marvellously fine.” I finally confirm without turning my eyes. “We should take care of you tonight.” He adds, while lifting me in his arms, making me laugh as I grab his neck. “ What a playful gentleman you are.” I chuckle, as my heart gently thumps in my chest. “Where are you taking me?” I finally ask, as he climbs the castle stairs. 

“Where my love for you has no limits,” he said, with a smile full of riddles. 

After making sure that everything was fine, the night ended between the delicate sheets of his apartments and I felt at last complete, surrounded by his tenderness, his laughter and his warmth. I felt more loved than ever.

I really hope you appreciated it, do not hesitate to reblog or to leave a note i’d love to read all about your thoughts. ✿ Evandsolo, 2025 ✿

[morinuu]

Hello!!!!

I’m so happy to see your requests are open I absolutely love your writing!!

Kyoya x fem reader where they have an arranged marriage because it will help both there parents companies, and Kyoya and reader start to actually have feelings for one another, even though they weren’t sure about marrying the other at first?? Just thought it would be super cute!!

Hope your day/night is going well!!

hiii im so glad u like my work! :3 added a wee bit of angst turnt fluff cus why not. its not exactly what u asked for but i hope u like it anyway!

❄｜kyouya x reader where you're both forced to marry under your families' order. 1.7k words. this doesn't follow the canon for the events after the ouran graduation.

the noiret paced around his room in uneasiness. he knew one day his freedom would be cut short, he'd been waiting for that day, but he also had learnt to have the slightest, stupidest hope that his father's newfound respect for him had changed things.

he wonders, however, how he of all people could have been so naïve.

outside, the fairies of the winter had been drawing pretty little drawings of ice on the edges of his windows, as if to try and distract his racing mind from the events that would unfold the second he got out of his room. he was used to the noise of social events, the people chatter and the pressure of socialising, so this should be nothing for him, right?

right.

he didn't understand this feeling. it wasn't that he necessarily hated an arrangement for marriage, life would go on whether or not it would happen.

looking at the fairies' drawings of comfort one last time, he took a deep breath and exited his room to leave for the wedding venue without a word.

the car ride was uncomfortable. his family had already arrived so they weren't there to talk his ear off and the bride would come some time after than he did as the tradition goes. he had time left to think and contemplate again and again.

he looked down at his tuxedo. the bride requested that if she wasn't able to marry of her own free will, that she at least get to have her dream wedding. not a bad deal, kyouya thought. their outfits had been in matching colours, and both were over-the-top decorated. he felt slightly embarrassed at the outfit, but it wasn't anything too extreme in comparison to what he wore in highschool. the only concern was that his whole family and many important people would be there, though he swallowed that as well, as he'd been doing the entire year of the wedding preparation.

he'd met his fiancée plenty of times in that year. the first time they met was at his university graduation. she was smiling brightly standing next to his sister who rushed to hug him and congratulate him. he remembers her bowing politely and introducing herself, before his father stepped in to explain the situation. he remembers the slight surprise on her face at the lack of comments about his sons' achievements.

the next time they met was at a museum. his sister had advised him to ask her on a date so they could get to know each other. she was intelligent, charismatic, and he couldn't deny her face was pleasant to look at. her interest in history was a plus - at least she had an interesting characteristic.

their second date was a dinner at a restaurant, only the best to serve the ootoris. she'd picked steak and juice - quickly explaining she doesn't drink at the slight raise of his eyebrow. he nodded and changed his own wine order to juice as well. 'you don't have to do that!' she rushed but he assured her he's just being considerate of his fiancée. he never forgot how to be a gentleman.

the fifth date she asked to meet at a commoners' shopping mall to show him around. kyouya wasn't surprised by this. he'd learnt early on from his investigation on potential wife that she'd been adopted into the l/n family due to some sort of an affair. despite it being well-known, the gossip around the situation wasn't very clear, so he decided to wait until she talked about it instead.

at some point down the road, the two had become something akin to friends, and although not very close, y/n claimed she was satisfied with the bond they'd created regardless of its strength.

nine months later, he now is at the altar, bouquet in hand, a performative smile for all the guests to admire - until a beautiful woman comes through with her arm linked to her father's.

the ceremony didn't last long, the after-party however? most guests had already left but the couples' friends continued to act like it was the last day of their lives. the bridesmaids' laughter and his friends' drunk dance moves tired kyouya, but he was having fun, so what's another night sleepless?

a tap in his shoulder by his wife.

"you okay? you seem tired. we can call it a night." she exclaimed into his ear through the music. he'd read enough women's blogs to understand what that meant.

even if he wasn't tired, she was, and that was a roundabout way of telling him. what sort of husband disobeys his wife?

the second they got to their new house, y/n rushed to the bed and flopped on it like a sack. she had no energy to get changed or move, instead asking kyouya 'if they could complete their duties the next day, nobody was rushing them anyway'. kyouya he helped her out of her dress and comatosed with her in peace.

the next morning, nobody bothered to wake the couple. soon they'd leave for their honeymoon anyway. everything happened way too quickly and kyouya didn't know how to handle it. the weeks passed, and he refused to communicate any issues to his wife that weren't work or family related. he felt conflicted, but he didn't know about what. the woman lying next to him was kind, beautiful, clever. what right did he have to complain?

i mean, what did it matter if he didn't feel any connection in bed? why would it matter if she had a disappointed look on her face whenever he had to cut their time short? would it make any difference if he had an heir later and ignored his parents' whines about it? it was a tough thing to do, but each time he failed to satisfy his wife, it felt like a stab in the chest wounding his male ego. so did it really matter that he was away for long periods of time? it was a marriage of convenience, after all, and she wasn't missing out on anything.

she claimed that whatever friendship they had felt like it was dissolving because he 'didn't make an effort'? him? when he's the one working hard to make sure his dad's company doesn't make the wrong decisions? what does she know when she sits at home all day getting princess treatment despite being illegitimate?

"you chose this, kyouya." what?

"you refuse to leave your father's shadow." that's not it.

"maybe if you stood up for yourself, half the issues you're complaining about would be gone!" you're wrong.

he doesn't have free will, he never did. since he was a kid his life had been dictated by those around him, and surely you under-

"you're nearing thirty, kyoya! i'm tired of your self-pity! do something! i'm sick of this!"

it felt like yesterday when he saw his wife in her wedding dress for the first time. back then, he didn't really understand the concept of forever.

yet it had already been seven years.

seven years of obedience. seven years of keeping his head down. seven years of neglecting his wife to dedicate his time to his work. seven years for him to realise he was serving the ootoris. he was never on an equal level.

the issue wasn't his father, it was him. and on his twenty-ninth birthday, a snowy day just like his wedding day, with the winter fairies for comfort, he announced to his old man his retirement from the company.

"i'm sorry, y/n. i'm sorry for everything. let's try again."

you took his hand and embraced him. you knew your husband was broken somewhere inside him. you'd known for years. you'd seen how his family treated him, how they took him for granted. but no matter what you did, how much you pressured him, he only let you see specific parts of himself, and you couldn't help but blame yourself.

you refused to leave his side, no matter how exhausting your marriage felt. you rarely went on dates anymore, he never made the move to touch you, it wasn't marriage, it felt like... a business transaction.

deep down, you knew that that's what it was. you'd considered divorce plenty of times but at the end of the day, even if not your lover, kyouya was your friend. the man whom you ate breakfast with and lied on the same bed with. the man you'd seen you at your worst and gave you strength, and you knew you had to support even if he refused to let go of what was familiar to him. even if he refused his own happiness.

the sobbing man in your arms reminded you of a younger version of him. years ago, on your third anniversary when he'd planned a trip to chongqing because he remembered you saying you always wanted to go. during your two week stay, he got wine tipsy at dinner and eventually drunk by nighttime, spilling feelings he'd kept to himself for years.

he'd kneeled in front of you, furiously crying in your lap as he held your legs tightly, begging you not to leave because he could feel himself changing and neglecting his personal life.

you'd carried him to bed and admired his face as he fell asleep, naïvely thinking that this was just a rough patch and he'd go back to putting effort in just like he did in chongqing.

but the years passed and he proved to you his fears were legitimate.

"sure, let's try again kyouya." you patted his back when he held you in even tighter. "but this time we're trying counselling, okay?" you giggled, trying to light up the mood.

he pulled back and gave a tiny smile when you wiped his cheek.

"whatever my wife says." he caressed your hair. "let's stay married, okay? i don't want to lose you."

he didn't say the three words, but that was okay. it didn't matter much. romance could wait, because you knew you loved him more than a woman in a cheesy romcom would. you loved his soul, and you wanted nothing more than to see him bloom.

"let's stay married, kyouya. happy birthday."

it was a new beginning for the both of you and you had nothing but time on the horizon.

[shirefantasies]

hii! love your writings, I was wondering if you could do a reader x fellowship (plus eowyn and arwen) where reader is usually seen in armor and unkempt garments + dirty hair but then one day they show up (probably for an event) in beautiful fancy clothes, hair did and everything? Thanks!!!!

scREAMS I LOVE THIS YES. Warning: minor blood mention in two

LoTR Characters Seeing You Dressed Up For the First Time

Aragorn

Both of you had only borne witness to the other in times of battle and survival, not exactly the most formal of circumstances, but such had never even occurred to you until the night of celebration in Rohan. King Theoden invited you to the company of his family, offering his niece or nephew to take you to a bathhouse and present you with a new outfit. Aragorn turned your way the moment you stepped out, eyes positively glowing with reverent awe focused entirely on your form, your smile as your gazes met. He said nothing, simply drew closer until you could feel his warmth upon you. "The people of Rohan have been good to us," he said. "Yes," you agreed with a nod, "I wish we can give as much back. But perhaps we should start by enjoying their hospitality, hm?” “Indeed. Let us keep this night for ourselves. I fear if I stray too far, though, I may get lost in you.” “Don’t worry,” you whispered, lips quirking upward as you pulled Aragorn into the fray of dancers, “I’ll be here to pull you back, too.”

Legolas

Legolas managed to seem dressed up in nearly anything he wore, a feat you certainly envied! Your travels left you feeling like a drowned rat half the time or else just dirty and bedraggled. When the elves of Lothlórien offered you housing, bathing, even food and dancing for two nights, no had fled your vocabulary entirely. Taking their hands, you were swept off into a river of luxury, emerging clean and smiling and draped in the finest fabrics. An elf on either side, you made your way down to the lower flet upon which your hospitality lie, the way Legolas turned his head not once but twice unable to escape your notice. "What?" You teased, aware at least of his shock to see you clad so differently. "You didn't know what I looked like beneath my helmet?" "I didn't know you looked so nice beneath it," He conceded with a smile, stepping closer, "Perhaps we ought not to return it after this night."

Boromir

Had someone asked him, Boromir would never have said he wanted someone with blood under their nails and sword in hand. That was him, that was his job. And yet he felt something different when he clapped a hand to your shoulder after you saved him in combat. When you emerged at the party dressed up, though? His heart swelled five sizes. He should have known- you could do anything. “Putting everyone to shame here, aren’t we?” “What do you mean?” You asked, gaze flitting deliciously down to the hand Boromir laud upon your shoulder, all but challenging him. Accepting it, he rested the other on your hip, urging you out into a dance. “Looking better than them in both mail and finery.” “I suppose I’m just lucky.” “No, I am,” Boromir shot back, “For I am the one who gets to have you in my arms.”

Gimli

To use Gimli's words, around each other you two tend to remain "fully armed and filthy". It is Lord Elrond, of course, who offers an alternative state upon your entry to his homely-house, granting you the reprieve of your first bath in far too many days and even a new outfit. Elvish craftsmanship was like nothing else, delicately embroidered and soft and light unlike anything that has ever graced your skin. Reactions were something you hadn’t considered in the slightest, but as soon as you emerged you found yourself giggling at Gimli’s parted lips and removal of his helmet as if in some reverence you had not earned. “Now this,” he nodded with a smile of approval as he swept an arm over your entire form, “This is the one thing the elves have gotten right.”

Frodo

The tailors’ shop was busy this morning. Bilbo needed a new set of threads to replace some tugged-off buttons, but every working hobbit was rushing around before Frodo could even ask if they had a spool of forest green to spare. What were they- “Frodo!” He would recognize that voice anywhere. Turning, he caught sight of you in the middle of a fitting, the tailors having been flitting about your form as they worked on quite a fine outfit for you. “What do you think?” Spinning around and then striking a joking pose, you fixed him right in the eyes, and it was like an arrow struck him, taking the very breath from his lungs. Finally Frodo’s sense and words returned to him, bringing a smile to his lips. “It’s perfect.”

Sam

You had worked with Sam plenty of times in the gardens, so he had seen you countless times in things like overalls or pinafores or aprons and thought you looked fit for any king and castle. But then came Fatty Bolger’s birthday party, a bash all his friends were invited to…and plenty of other hobbits would find themselves at anyway. One such was you, and knowing you’d be dancing you got cleaned up quite nice, standing at the edges of the lantern-hung floor hoping you might be noticed. And noticed you were, for you caught Samwise Gamgee as he controlled his gaping expression and shook his head out before he approached you, asking if you’d honor him with a dance.

Merry

Gimli was teasing you as Merry entered the room, feeling his heart shoot into his throat at a mere glimpse. He caught a few spare words from the dwarf, including him asking you if you had someone you’d like to impress. “Hush,” you chastised him, “What if he hears you?” At that, Merry couldn’t resist stepping forward. “I don’t know who you’re trying to impress,” he told you, eyes full of wonder, “But he’s an absolute fool if it doesn’t work.” “You really think so?” Your tone, your hopeful look, those beautiful eyes Merry could drown in. “I know so.” “Well,” you glanced away, “That’s good. Very good, since it was you.”

Pippin

Tired and bedraggled, you all but fell into the arms of the elves of Lothlórien, blissfully bathing and shyly accepting the fine garb they offered you. Tugging it into place, you emerged through the doorway, unaware the rest of your fellowship waited beyond the threshold. Soon as his eyes fell upon you, Pippin's jaw dropped, his lips slowly curling upward into a wide smile that had you mirroring it, gaze dropping from his. “Wow," Pippin breathed as you drew closer still, hands hovering in front of him in the space between your bodies, "You- you look- Wow. They’ve certainly given you a fine…wow.”

Faramir

On the battlefield you had fought side by side, faces obscured by steel and focus. Soldiers from two armies melded as one. Yet here you were simply citizens, representatives of your people. Diplomats even on the dance floor. All thoughts of such relations fled from Faramir’s mind, though, as your form filled his vision. “Never did I think I would be granted such a moment as this,” he confessed as you took his hand and gripped about his neck, body swaying against his.

Eomer

Theoden, Rohan's king, was giving a celebration all were to attend. Something of a victory revel, but you must confess that you just looked forward to the dancing. Stuffy as it may have been, it was also quite fun donning a nice outfit, your reflection beaming back at you. The expression carried on all the way into the great hall, shining into the hanging lights. You caught sight of a head turning the moment you emerged. A golden head. Eomer. With a wave, he dismissed the man he spoke to- a fellow soldier, you presumed- and strode before you. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" "To the same thing everyone else does, I suppose," you teased in response, "This revel." "Well, remind me to thank my uncle later," Eomer replied with a wide smile, extending a hand in a clear invitation to dance as his eyes traveled up and down over your form, "Shall we?"

Eowyn

She had worn a smile of surprise when you even removed your helmet for the first time in her presence, let alone donning your finest. When it came time for a celebration with her people, a far different garb hung from your body, all in gorgeous fabrics and colors perfectly complimenting your own hues. As soon as you stepped into the light of Rohan's hall, Eowyn positively grinned, her eyes of soft blue alight. Taking up a cup from the table by which she stood, she crossed over to stand before you and offer you a drink, which you accepted. "The garb of Rohan suits you perfectly," she complimented, "Do you plan on dancing?" It was worth seeing the progression of shock and speechlessness melting back into a grin when you extended a hand and replied, "If you will have me."

Haldir

Working side by side meant seeing each other in some of the worst moments, sleeves slashed and blood seeping from wounds. Armor caked with dirt and quivering devoid of arrows. Body carried to healers with reddening bandages hastily tied around limbs. And yet this, this is what shocks him. Haldir’s breath is utterly stolen, not of concern or fear this time, but in the manner of one first seeing the falling stars. “Stay still,” he breathes, almost pleading, “Let me take you in for a moment.”

Galadriel

You were a warrior by profession. In a way, at least. One such that mail was your garb far more often than any dress or robe. Thus, when you made to visit the elves of Lothlórien, you were shocked to see the fine things they'd lain out for you, pulled gently onto your body as if you deserved servants. In fact you had tried to protest, but they had simply smiled and shook their heads as fine jewels were hung about your neck. That you had earned an audience with the Lady Galadriel, was a testament to your service you would not soon take for granted. Thus, as you stood before them, you made first to lower yourself in reverence. Before you could fully adopt your posture, though, you felt the grip of a soft hand beneath your chin gently pulling you back up. Soon you were raised to meet Galadriel's eyes. "You need not bow to me. I confess I wished very much to see you like this. Come with me, if you please."

Elrond

Some might say the Lord of Rivendell should not look upon a soldier such as he did. Some of those same voices might have spoken up of the love of man and elf that had brought forth his ancestors. Not that he would not have understood. Yet as it was every time you removed your helmet something stirred in Elrond that had not done so for some years. And then one night came the celebration, a festival to which all in his counsel were invited, you included. It was that very night, in fact, that he realized how little he had seen of you outside the patrols you took together, and the same in which he would confess to you how he felt beneath the moonlight, finally spilling forth every word of your beauty you deserved.

Arwen

Had you asked her, she would have thought not at all of your dress. Your heart was what she loved, the way you cared and the way you smiled whenever you looked upon someone dear to you. Yet the day of her birthday, you draped yourself in your very finest, emerging in the view of an Arwen who could not bear tearing her eyes off of you. Grinning her beautiful grin, the elf took your hand and immediately twirled you, viewing you from every angle with her expression never faltering. “You look amazing,” she told you, "For a moment, I thought I was dreaming."

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[cauliflowercounty]

Knives Dance (Part III)

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader

Summary: It was hard to have a prose summary so here are some bullets of what’s happening in part 3

Baron Feyd missing you + heartfelt reunion 

Feyd being totally infatuated with you

SCIENCE!!! and POLITICS!!!

Rabban being pitiful

Reader being a badass

Feyd vs Paul on Arrakis (what will happen? You’ll never knowww… [unless you read this chapter **wink, wink, wink**]

Warnings: Violence, blood, death (woohoo)

Word Count: 10.3k (whoops… I went typey-type)

A/N: I wanted to say a sincere thanks to everyone who's read Knives Dance up to this point. This series is some of the most fun I've had writing in a long, long time. Sending lots of love your way :)

Part I | Part II | Part III

--

Stirring gently in his bed, Feyd recoils slightly as the light from Giedi Prime’s black sun hits his eye line through the wall of windows that separate his bedroom from the private balcony that overlooks the cityscape.  He extends his arm to your side of the bed and runs his hand languidly across the surface, feeling the cool, silky sheets under his fingertips. His heart feels heavy in his chest, and he lets out a low growl of frustration into his pillow. It has been a long three weeks without you.  

You’ve been off-world on a visit to Youra to see your father and bring back equipment for the laboratory you’re constructing on Giedi Prime. He knows that he doesn’t have to worry about your safety because he insisted on a full Harkonnen security detail accompanying you, which should have put his mind at ease, but he’s laid awake each night since your departure, staring at the ceiling and trying not to think of disasters befalling you during your travels. One night it’s asteroids colliding with your ship, tearing gaping holes in the walls, and sucking you into the vacuum of space. Another, it’s an ambush by an undiscovered society, hellbent on killing alien peoples for sport. Perhaps a novel virus wiping out the entire population of Youra and you with it in a matter of days?  No farfetched scenarios were off limits when Feyd allowed his mind to wander.

The foreign feeling of loss due to your absence has not only plagued him with anxiety, but allowed Feyd to slip into a state of abject melancholia. None of his old vices have come close to fulfilling him, let alone make him feel much of anything.  Watching his servants cower in fear or making foreign ambassadors quake in their seats wasn’t giving him the same gratification as it once had.  Even hearing the roar of the crowds in the arena didn't given him any satisfaction. Everything had felt unbearably pedestrian. The only thing that brought a smile to his face was the thought of having the other half of his bed full again and listening to your tranquil voice. With every passing moment, he’s yearned for the life you had built together on Giedi Prime to resume.

Your mornings together were simple and easy. They were a time when he could always experience a drop of serenity within the political quagmire he’d gotten himself into since assuming the title of Baron. He’d wake up with you already in his embrace, your head laid delicately on his chest. He'd listen to your soft breathing and savor the way your limbs would entangle with his. The image of you blinking your eyes open to look at him with the special glimmer of affection reserved just for him never failed to make his heart flutter. 

Overtime, Feyd noticed you had been taking very well to Harkonnen dresses, which you now wore more often than not. He had the best seamstresses on Giedi Prime make and tailor custom outfits for you, though he didn’t expect you to always wear them, knowing how important your heritage was for you.  Nevertheless, you continued to grab one of the black gowns from your shared closet for your daily tasks and tell him with a smile “I’m Baroness Harkonnen now.  Shouldn’t I dress the part?”

Before leaving your quarters each day, Feyd always took the opportunity to take your hand in his and bring you in front of the floor length mirror in your shared closet. With his hands around your waist, he would pepper gentle kisses from your cheeks down your neck, whispering in your ear “you are a vision today, my Baroness.” You'd always smile and blush bashfully in return, returning his kisses in kind. Moments like those when it was just the two of you had become one of his favorite parts of the day.

You made the meetings, filled with diplomats groveling to win his favor, bearable. How he loved to watch you as you sat on the grand Harkonnen throne beside him. You never failed to command the room with your head held high. Power and dignity seemed to drip off of your being and fill every room you entered. You were truly worthy of the title of Baroness, and with every passing day and every interaction, there was more and more for Feyd to admire about you.

In private, you took to training together, where he would bask in your shared might. With every blow he endured from you, all he could think about was that he, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, was the only person alive to witness you so animated with ferocity and passion from battle, as all others who have seen you this way have been slain and buried. Sparring sessions between the two of you almost always ended with you both on the floor, limbs entwined and chests heaving after one of you would get the best of the other and take the opportunity to pin the other to the floor. 

At the end of the day, you'd always assume your position on the balcony in a flowy, white nightgown. With a gentle gesture, you’d beckon him to accompany you while you observe your shared domain, watching the shuttles flying through the gaps in the dark architecture and the stark white floodlights passing over the cityscape.  He’d hold you close by your waist and whisper sweet nothings into your ear until you start to shiver from the evening chill, at which point he’d tug at your waist to take you back to the bedroom to retire for the night. Every day, Feyd was falling deeper and deeper into you, and he’s loved every moment. 

Bringing himself upright, Feyd stretches his arms and stands up, walking over to the closet. Across from his sets of Harkonnen formalwear and battle gear, your gowns are neatly hung. Half of them are the sleek, black Harkonnen designs he had made for you. The other half are gorgeously vibrant Youran gowns. He sighs, imagining sharing one of your moments again in front of the mirror like always, but alas, you are not beside him. Once he’s dressed, he emerges from his quarters and is met with a nameless servant.

“Good morning, Baron,” the servant says, bowing deeply and trying not to give Feyd an excuse to kill him. “I am here to inform you that we have received a signal from the Baroness’s craft.  Her arrival is imminent.”

Hearing those words, Feyd turns on his heel toward the landing docks, dismissing the servant who heaves a sigh of relief because his head is thankfully still connected to the rest of his body. As Feyd walks the halls, his pace quickens, feeling the anticipation rise in his chest. People bow and salute him in the hallways, but he doesn’t pay them any attention. He’s too preoccupied with his thoughts of you; he can already smell the aroma of rainforest flowers you carry around with you. The thought that he’s so close to having you near again nearly drives him mad. 

When he arrives at the landing docks, the fleet of Harkonnen vessels is already touching down. As he hears the machinery’s loud whirring die, the ramps of all the crafts to meet the floor. Lines of Harkonnen soldiers file out first, each soldier with weapons in arms. The steady pulse of their synchronized footsteps echoes through the space with perfect adherence to Harkonnen military standards is satisfactory for Feyd. The commander in front barks orders, and the guards immediately step into formation, making an aisle that extends between Feyd and the craft closest to him. 

He is at a loss for words when he sees you walk down the ramp. You are undeniably gorgeous in Harkonnen clothes, but you look positively ethereal in the Youran gown and golden headdress that adorn your body today. Instead of shrouding yourself in the cloak you’ve worn in the past to hide your weaponry, you’re wearing a traditional dress reserved only for Youra’s utmost nobility. Layers of sheer, olive and cerulean fabric flare behind you to create your dress’s skirt out from under a ribbed bronze and mahogany corset.  Seeing how it’s cinched your waist and accented your silhouette, all Feyd wants to do is hold you and drag his fingers up and down the length of your figure.

Through the abundance of delicate golden chains that are symmetrically draped over your exposed shoulders and chest, Feyd can see how the corset and the off the shoulder neckline cradles your breasts in a way that makes him feel lightheaded. The entire skirt of the dress is decorated in dazzling embellishments and the characteristic Youran golden thread that Feyd has come to love on you. The fabric of the train seems to flow like water behind you as you walk.  

The high front hemline of the gown that ends at your upper thighs gives Feyd a good look at your legs, the lengths of which are delicately wrapped in the thin, tan ribbons from your sandals. The crosshatched pattern of the ribbons allows him to see just how beautifully your legs are sculpted from years of training and exploration. The sight makes his mouth water. He is truly breathless gazing upon you, his Baroness.

You return his affectionate gaze and call his name excitedly, reaching down and bunching up your skirt in your grasp before breaking into a run between the lines of Harkonnen guards. Your footsteps are the only noise reverberating throughout the area. Before he even realizes it, Feyd’s running for you, too. As you approach each other, he extends his arms out to you, and you leap into them, wrapping your legs around his waist. As he lifts you up into his arms, he spins you both around as you nuzzle yourself deeper into his hold.

Your grips on each other are desperate. Without a moment to waste, he cups your cheek with one hand as the other holds you tightly by the small of your back. A tear threatens to fall from his eyes as he considers saying that he hopes that you’ve missed him, but the look in your eyes already tells him the answer. This is truly happiness like he’s never experienced before. It washes over him when you finally bring your lips to meet his. His breath is warm against yours as he exhales into the kiss in satisfaction. He feels your hands come up to clutch the back of his head to deepen your kiss and growls hungrily, quickly losing himself in your embrace while attempting to resist the urge to devour you on the spot. His brow furrows when you finally break for air.

“Hello, my love,” you whisper softly, pressing your forehead against his, as if what you’re saying is a secret meant for only his ears. He grins at the pet name you’ve picked for him.  “How have things been at home?” Your words make Feyd pause. Were you calling Giedi Prime “home?” 

“Everything has been adequate,” Feyd says, kissing you again. “But I do prefer it when my Baroness is beside me.”

“I guess you’re in luck then,” you smile at his words. You rest your hands on his chest, feeling his prominent pectoral muscles underneath his shirt which makes him sigh in satisfaction. You swiftly squash the temptation to kiss him again as you meet his gaze because if you do, you’d never want to stop. Feyd sets you down, even though he’d gladly carry you all day wherever you want. 

“My father sends his regards. He’s very pleased with House Harkonnen. He also sends his condolences at your uncle’s passing,” you say, which makes Feyd scoff silently to himself. “I’ve also gathered all I need for the laboratory.  I hope I didn’t bring too much back with me. I hope it’s not a burden…” you trail off.

“You could never be a burden. We have plenty of servants. They can handle the labor,” Feyd assures as he turns to one of the closest guards. “Start unloading the Baroness’s things. You know where to take them. Don’t you dare damage any of it. There will be repercussions if anything is found broken.”

“Yes, My Lord,” the guard responds before beginning to bark orders to the others. One by one, the guards disappear into the vessel, and emerge moments later, carrying large wooden crates by the bronze colored handles attached to the sides of each. They all file out and disappear into the fortress, headed for your lab. 

“So,” Feyd says, turning back to you. “Home is Giedi Prime now? I wouldn’t have expected you to call anywhere but Youra home. It’s not that I’m unsatisfied that you’ve found comfort on Giedi Prime, but I was surprised to hear you say those words.”

You smile and glance down at the ground before looking back to him, responding. “Younger me would have agreed with you. Youra is my first home and will forever be such. However, my feelings have changed. Home is wherever you are,” you explain, intertwining your fingers with his. At your words, Feyd pulls you in again by the waist for another quick kiss, and he wonders what he did to deserve a wife like you as you both turn to follow your belongings. 

Weeks ago, you and Feyd had set aside the largest of Baron Vladimir’s personal recreation spaces to be converted to a laboratory for you on Giedi Prime. You both had celebrated the initiation of the transformation by gathering all the Baron’s belongings and smashing them to smithereens, which was quite cathartic for the both of you. In particular, you loved bashing Vladimir’s pipe and ripping his bathtubs apart piece by piece. The day of eradicating every trace of Vladimir, except for his portrait in the hallway, culminated in you both basking in the warmth of a glorious bonfire, fed by what remained of the Baron’s belongings. 

You both arrive at your laboratory. The Harkonnen workers have been very efficient installing the necessary infrastructure in the time you have been away. The room that was stripped to the bones the day you left for Youra is now a proper lab, outfitted with fireproof surfaces, chemical hoods, gas lines, and plenty of storage cabinets.  

“Wow, Feyd,” you say. “This is amazing. I can’t believe this got done in the time I was gone.”

“Only the best for you, my love,” he replies as more servants arrive, and you begin to instruct them how to unpack your belongings. Feyd stands back on the sidelines and watches you, seeing the sparkle in your eyes now that you’re able to bring part of your life from Youra to Giedi Prime. Many of the instruments and objects he sees being unpacked are unfamiliar to him, but you seem unphased, perhaps even comforted, by the diversity of items. He marvels at your proficiency with handling all of them. With the help of the servants, you quickly have all the crates unloaded and the items put away and organized. You dismiss all the workers promptly, so you and Feyd can be alone. Once the doors are closed, you let out a sigh of relief.

“Is the space to your liking?” Feyd asks, coming to your side and slipping his arm firmly around your waist.

“It’s perfect,” you reply, looking around with elation in your eyes. You reach into a drawer in front of you and take out a jar. Inside, he sees it’s full of the iridescent indigo scales of the fish you had shown him the night you were attacked on Youra. “I wanted to wait until I got back to Giedi Prime to do the extraction on the scales for your batch of the elixir. …Would you like to stay while it happens?” 

Feyd nods without hesitation. He knows that watching you work is something only the people closest to you ever get to see. “Of course, my love.  It would be my pleasure,” he says. You smile at him, delighted at his interest. You point to a little door in the corner and tell him to wait for you before disappearing into it. A few minutes later, you emerge having shed your gown and jewels for a tan lab coat. When you smooth your hands over the new coat, Feyd thinks to himself how put together you look. You seem even more at ease now that you’ve changed. In your arms, he sees another coat and two pairs of safety glasses. 

“To protect your clothes and eyes,” you say, walking over and handing him the other coat and one of the pairs of glasses.  Inside the coat, he sees “Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen” delicately stitched in with golden lettering.  As he puts it on, he realizes it’s been tailored to his measurements perfectly at your behest. His heart swells once again. Your foresight is obvious to him. Beside him, you take out a mortar and pestle and pour a few of the scales into the mortar. He hears the scales clatter like pebbles against one another as they fall. 

Over your shoulder, Feyd can finally get a closer look at the scales from the fish you had shown him. The scales are shaped like rounded trapezoids and glimmer even in the artificial indoor lighting. Through the striking coloration, he can see delicate silver ribs that flare out from the narrower end of the scales, making each scale look like a pocket of moonlight rays shining through an inky night sky.  Feyd thinks how it’s truly a wonder how nature produced such a creature that bears such beauty.

You grasp the pestle in your hand and start striking the scales with firm, downward motions. Upon impact, the scales fracture at the ribs. Little by little, the scales become smaller, and you change your technique, beginning to roll the pestle around the bottom and up the sides of the mortar. You reverse the direction of the circle every few times. Because of your expert hand, the scales are soon reduced to a fine powder in the bottom of the mortar.  The dust glistens beautifully as you pick up the mortar and tip it around in a rolling motion, observing the results of your grinding.

“It’s time to perform the extraction and then the purification. Hopefully the crystals will be well formed,” you say to him, taking the mortar over to the fume hood behind the two of you and flipping the on switch to the hood.  “Have you ever watched any of your scientists work before?”

Feyd shakes his head as he follows you, memories of his childhood passing through his mind. “My uncle always instructed me to remain in the arena and the training grounds growing up. The laboratories on Giedi Prime were never our places to be. Our scientists would always come and report to us rather than us going to them. It has always been that way. Everyone in House Harkonnen works for the Baron. Everything they do is in service to him. It is inappropriate by our standards for him to go to them.”

You nod at his words, reaching for the glass sash that separates you and Feyd from the compartment of the fume hood. “Unsurprisingly, it’s the opposite on Youra,” you say, putting the mortar with the powdered scales inside before lowering the sash again until it’s almost closed, leaving gap a couple inches tall for continued access. “Yes, all workers serve my father and me, but we are all colleagues, in a way. They are the workers and my father is the hub for all of the departments on Youra. Much of my father’s success is tied to them, so he would often visit our workers to acknowledge their efforts and dedication. He always wanted to see their work for himself, too. He’s always been the curious type. My father had me follow him to the laboratories as soon as I was old enough to understand safety protocol. I’m sure if it wasn’t for regulations, he’d have brought me into the labs in a baby sling.”

The image of young you in a laboratory, holding your father’s hand as Youran chemists show you both what they’re working on comes into Feyd’s mind.  Even though he didn’t know of you when you were children, he can imagine you then, much shorter with a rounder face but with the same bright eyes brimming with curiosity.  The idea makes his heart warm and a smile tugs at his lips.

“I’m sure those laboratory visits were most influential for you,” Feyd says. You nod in return as you put on a pair of gloves and reach under the sash to grab an amber bottle containing a clear liquid from the side of the hood.  

“Absolutely,” you reply as you transfer all the powdered scales into a glass Erlenmeyer flask and add enough of the liquid to cover the solids. You move the flask onto a raised plate in the hood and press a few buttons to begin the heating process.  “I loved watching them do their work. They knew so much about our world, but were still determined to know more.  The way they moved in the lab was like a dance. I desperately wanted to be a part of that, so I began working with them when I was fourteen…”

As Feyd listens to you talk about your past as you work, his admiration of you grows. Your determination and tenacity through failed experiments and stalled projects are astounding to him, and the fact you’ve been able to become a swordswoman on the side this is truly a marvel. Your skill and years of training are evident today, as your body seems to know this process by memory. This in front of him is the product of all those years of effort.

The liquid in the vessel begins to bubble gently. As the moments go by, the liquid takes on the iridescent nature of the scales and becomes a vibrant blue. Removing it from the heat, you strain the liquid through fine mesh into another container, removing all the powdered scales from the mixture.  Looking at the collected solids, Feyd can see the scales have lost their original coloration and turned a chalky off-white. You smile to yourself, knowing that the extraction was effective while you prepare a large volume of a different liquid, also clear and colorless, in a large beaker. 

“Are you ready for the recrystallization?” you ask him, grabbing a syringe and drawing up some of the extract into the barrel. You return to the beaker of liquid and gently tip it sideways with one hand while pointing the tip of the needle at the side of the beaker. Carefully, you begin to squeeze the syringe and the indigo liquid begins to drip out the needle’s tip and trickle down the side of the beaker. As the extract hits the surface of the clear liquid, deep purple crystals seem to flutter out from the point of impact into the liquid instantaneously. Feyds lips part in amazement, unable to tear his gaze away from the process

“How does it work?” he asks, watching as a batch of thin, needle-like crystals start to gather at the bottom of the beaker while the bulk liquid remains colorless. It’s as if all the color of the extract has been contained within the crystals. 

“I use the first liquid to remove the compound from the scales and make a concentrated extract. I then add the extract to a bulk solvent which our compound of interest is insoluble in. The compound forms crystals when the liquids meet because the second liquid is in great excess compared to the first,” you explain, drawing up more extract and adding it to the beaker in the same way. Once you’re out of extract, you squat down to bring your eye level to that of the beaker. “It’s perfect. I don’t think the crystallization has ever gone that well.” 

You’re absolutely beaming as you swirl the crystals suspended in the liquid, admiring how they twinkle in the light. He can’t deny that your excitement is contagious. You collect the crystals by filtering the mix through another filter and spread out the crystals on a metal sheet to allow them to dry before removing your safety glasses, and Feyd follows suit.

“This is the compound I was referring to that night at the Pools of Ashora,” you say to Feyd.  “If we dissolve the crystals in water and drink it, it allows people to retain their body’s water content and reduced the frequency at which people needed to drink water.”

“Fascinating…,” Feyd trails off, staring at the delicate crystals scattered across the surface inside the fume hood. 

“When I was on Youra, I tested the elixir myself,” you say. Hearing you say that you’ve done that, a bolt of fear goes to his heart at the thought of you just drinking a novel chemical. Feyd’s eyes quickly lock onto you, and his neck stiffens. His mind swirls with distress at the possibility of you getting hurt. You may look okay now, but was the elixir difficult for you to stomach? Did it hurt you in the moment?

Looking at him, you’re immediately in tune with his reaction, and you lift your hand up to rest on his arm to calm his nerves. At your touch, he immediately relaxes. “Don’t worry, Feyd. I am alright. There’s nothing to be worried about. We’ve done plenty of trials since I first introduced this fish to you. I assure you it’s safe. I’ve had all of my best scientists on this project, and I had the best doctors in Youra monitor my vitals for two days after the fact.” Feyd nods, knowing if anyone is competent enough to keep you safe, it's yourself and the Youran doctors and researchers. “We still don’t know the exact mechanism of the compound in the body, but we do know there aren’t significant negative side effects on people. Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” Feyd replies, taking the opportunity to bring his hand to your waist and pull you close enough that your lips are almost touching and you’re both staring into each other’s eyes.  “I will always put my faith in you and your work.”

“I’m glad to hear,” you reply, your breath fanning out across his face, which sends shivers down his spine.  “That means a lot, Feyd, we’ve been working hard the last few weeks for this.” Grinning at you, he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger and tips your head up toward his, catching your lips in his.  You quickly take off your gloves and hold his cheeks in your palms, savoring the intimate moment. 

A knock at the door sounds through the room. Feyd grumbles in annoyance as the tension between you releases. You and Feyd look at each other before ending your embrace. You call out “Enter!” in the direction of the doors. A military advisor enters the lab in full uniform with his head low. He immediately drops to his knees in front of both of you to show his respect.

“Baron, Baroness,” he says. “I am deeply sorry for interrupting you both, but I bring critical news from Arrakis.”

“Very well,” Feyd says, straightening up and peering down at the man kneeling before him. “Out with it.”

“There has been an attack by the Fremen. They destroyed eighty percent of the most recent spice crop.” You can tell by the way the man shivers that he is afraid. Nobody ever wanted to be the one to break bad news to Feyd-Rautha. “Count Rabban attempted a counterattack.”

“‘Attempted?’ What happened?” Feyd growls, his eyes flashing in dissatisfaction. You catch Feyd’s hand in your palm as it flies in the direction of the knife he keeps on his person. You shake your head. You tell him there is no use in killing this man because it would be a waste with just a look.  

“Y-Yes, my Lord,” the man says, a bead of sweat dripping down his temple. You can hear him beginning to hyperventilate despite his best attempts to steady his breath. “Rabban went after the Fremen, but the dust and debris from Rabban’s initial artillery attack made the visibility so poor on the battlefield that only Count Rabban and a few others survived. They were ambushed in the haze; it was a massacre with a casualty rate of seventy two percent and climbing.”

“Over half?!” you gasp, your own fists beginning to clench at Rabban’s blunder.

“Rabban says he saw the Fremen prophet, Muad'dib, on the battlefield before he fled. The Fremen… they are dedicated to him. They kill for him, Baron. Our spice operation is in jeopardy. We await your command.” 

Feyd stiffens, a vein threatening to pop on his temple. He sucks in air through his teeth, infuriated at Rabban’s continued incompetency. The advisor recoils at the noise, shuffling backward toward the door.

“You are dismissed,” you call to him with a huff.  A wave of relief washes over the man as he bows and thanks you before slipping out the door.

“Rabban is a damned fool!” Feyd shouts once you’re alone. “He has had every chance to rectify his mistakes on Arrakis, but he seems to leave his brain behind when he makes decisions and lets this Muad'dib win every time! And now I hear news of abandoning the battlefield at the sight of this prophet? He is a coward! An absolute imbecile! If something doesn’t change soon, the Emperor will take Arrakis from us!” 

You reach your arm out and rest it on his shoulder. In moments, you’ve quelled Feyd’s initial outburst until he’s only seething with fury instead of being on the verge of trashing the entire lab. “I think it’s time to relieve my brother of his duties,” Feyd says after he takes a deep breath. “We shall go to Arrakis to do it. I want to see the look on his face and the hope drain from his eyes when he knows he’s failed. I will take over the operation on Arrakis.  We will do what my brother was incapable of.”

“In that case…,” you say, preparing two glasses of water, adding a pinch of the crystals to each.  The water immediately turns a luminous indigo, and you hand Feyd one of the glasses, which he gladly takes.  You raise your glass in the air. “To victory and to House Harkonnen.”

“To victory and House Harkonnen,” he replies, connecting the rims of your glasses and drinking the entire glass in one go.  The elixir is salty and rich on his tongue as if he’s drinking the essence of the tropical ocean. As the elixir flows into him, he feels a warmth pulsate throughout his body.  He isn’t sure if this is truly the effects of the elixir or just a placebo, but Feyd feels powerful, like he could slaughter a thousand men and still have a hunger for more.  As he meets your gaze, you give him a knowing look. You feel the energy, too. You both shed your laboratory coats and leave the room to prepare for your journey to Arrakis. 

--

The preparations before and journey to Arrakis went without a hitch. You had opted to choose Harkonnen battle gear over your own, but you and Feyd still agreed on concealing your knives under a black Harkonnen dress cloak, still not eager to let anyone know of your true nature. Arriving in Arrakeen, you notice the striking architecture, made up of geometric slabs of tan stone layered to create a fortress to protect its inhabitants.  This time on Arrakis, Feyd doesn’t feel the heat like he used to. It’s as if his body is fighting back against the harsh environment on the desert planet. You feel it, too. You were initially concerned because you had only tested the elixir during the dry months on Youra, which paled in hostility in comparison to Arrakis, but seems the elixir’s protection is more than sufficient.

You and Feyd walk the halls of the fortress side by side, heading to the room where all of the Harkonnen strategists and military officials are. You see them gathered around a digital map projected by a computer in the middle of the room, which shows the locations of all the Harkonnen forces in the north of Arrakis.  Upon seeing their Baron and Baroness side by side, they all freeze and bow.

“Welcome to Arrakis, Baron, Baroness” one of them says. He opens his mouth to continue but Fed cuts him off. 

“Enough,” Feyd hisses at him. “I have orders for you. You are no longer to follow the word of Count Rabban. As of today, he is relieved of his duty as Planetary Governor of Arrakis. You will report directly to and receive orders only from me and your Baroness.”

The room of men immediately shout “Yes, My Lord!” in response. A smirk forms on Feyd's lips at their responsiveness, and he instructs them to hit the Fremen with old-fashioned artillery. As the orders are executed by the Harkonnen military, you watch the map intently as the targets on the map turn green, indicating the Fremen bases are hit successfully. All of the military advisors’ eyes widen in surprise at the genius of Feyd’s strategy as the reports of complete annihilation from the ground forces roll in. 

They all begin to applaud Feyd and as their chants fill the room, your heart fills with pride.  Feyd has finally proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was always meant to be the leader of House Harkonnen.  As the applause continues, you see Rabban appear in the doorway, a look of surprise disgust on his face. You notice he’s still wearing his nightclothes, and your eyes flash between him and Feyd as Rabban approaches Feyd, Rabban’s legs still stiff from sleep. 

“Leave us,” Feyd instructs the others in the room, who promptly file out. They keep their eyes on the floor, not daring to look at Rabban. They know people who end up alone in a room with Feyd after repeated blunders usually don’t exit the room outside of a body bag. 

“What are you doing here?” Rabban growls at Feyd.

“It’s early morning.  What are you doing here?” Feyd quips back.  Rabban lets out a frustrated huff.

“You can’t just waltz in here,” Rabban says through gritted teeth.  “And how can you bring that woman into the inner sanctum?”  

“How dare you refer to your Baroness like that!” Feyd roars, grabbing Rabban by his collar.  “If you have forgotten, dear Brother, I am Baron now.  I will do as I please and take my wife wherever I wish!” 

Feyd throws Rabban back and he falls on his back hard. In desperation, Rabban tries to scramble to his feet again, but as soon as he’s almost upright, he feels his knees buckle from under him as you kick the backside of his knees in. Rabban’s forehead collides with the stone floor with a visceral crack, and he feels his arm caught in your grip behind him. He groans as you push his arm to the verge of overextension. On his neck, Rabban feels the cool tip of a blade threatening to pierce his skin, which sends a chill down his spine, his head still spinning from impact.

“You should learn to respect your superiors,” you whisper to him as Feyd’s gaze is fixated on you.  The picture before him has a fire rising within him. His breath turns thick and heavy, seeing you over Rabban, your blade on his neck and your foot on his back with a fiendish smile on your lips.  “I would have expected more from my brother-in-law… You are a disgrace to House Harkonen,” you drawl, pressing your dagger’s tip into Rabban’s neck enough to draw blood. Dark crimson blood trickles down Rabban’s neck and he squirms. You remove your foot from his back and step forward to place your shoe by his face. You take the opportunity to kick his cheek in a little with the toe of your shoe before the heel of your combat boot hits the floor by Rabban’s face with a firm thunk. “Kiss my feet, and I may spare your life.”

Rabban quivers under your hold, his palms spread over the stone floor. He considers trying to escape. He could try to press his body up and avoid the blade on his neck and try to sweep your legs out from under you, but he quickly realizes that you are in control. Any movement like that would end with your knife in his chest, back, or neck. Despite his position being compromised, he hesitates to kiss your foot  How could he, Glossu Rabban, kiss a woman’s shoe in submission?

“You heard her, Brother,” Feyd hisses, stepping toward you both as he basks in his brother’s terror.  Feyd stops in front of his brother and squats down to look at him. “Kiss her feet.  Now.” 

After a moment, Rabban quivers and presses his lips against the leather of your shoes. As he does, you see how miserable and pathetic this man below you is. It's truly a shock that this oaf is the brother of your Feyd, who is confident, domineering, and skillful in every way.  

“You made a good decision obeying, Rabban,” you say, releasing the blade on his neck. “I would have wasted a perfectly sharpened knife slitting your throat if you hadn’t cooperated.” You step back from him as he clambers into an upright position. His hand flies to his neck, feeling the blood trickle down his neck and seep into his nightshirt. 

“You are hereby relieved of your duties as Planetary Governor of Arrakis,” Feyd grins at the pitiful sight before him. “You will return to your quarters in the meantime and wait for future instruction.”

Rabban leaves in defeat. Once the doors shut behind him, you and Feyd smirk at each other, and Feyd rushes to you giving you a tender kiss.  “I love you, Baroness,” he murmurs, completely infatuated with you.  

--

A few days later, you stare up into the atmosphere of Arrakis. The Emperor’s craft has just entered the atmosphere. You and Feyd share incredulous looks and you immediately make your way to where the emperor will be docking.  

“What could the emperor want?” you ask Feyd as you walk..  “We restored spice production. It’s never been more efficient.”

Feyd shakes his head, deep in thought.  “I do not know, my love.”  

“I don’t like this, Feyd.” you whisper to him, trying not to let anyone else hear and Feyd nods in return.  “What could have summoned the emperor to Arrakis?”

“We shall see,” he replies. Rabban arrives and bows to you both, which makes you frown. Rabban hasn’t been involved in House Harkonnen’s operations since he was removed. Nevertheless, he still proceeds into the throne room before Feyd or you can dismiss him.   

Inside the throne room, the emperor is perched on a large throne up a large flight of stairs with his daughter and a Bene Gesserit standing by him.  Your eyes narrow seeing the witch’s presence, knowing they have tricks they are not afraid of using to manipulate the great houses. You, Feyd, and Rabban kneel in front of them, bowing your heads.  Before any of you speak, the emperor’s voice rings out. 

“I am sure you are curious as to why I have come to Arrakis,” he begins.  “What do you know of the prophet Muad'dib?”  Rabban speaks up first, saying that Muad'dib is a madman.

“Mad?!” the emperor says.

“All Fremen are mad!” Rabban counters, and the Emperor’s fist clenches around the arm of his throne. You and Feyd shoot daggers at Rabban, and he closes his mouth immediately, putting his head down again which casts his face in shadow.

“We apologize for my brother speaking out of turn,” Feyd says to the Emperor. “Rabban has had no part in the latest work of House Harkonnen. He is not a reliable source of information.  We know Muad'dib is a figure of the Fremen, and they follow his command.”

“Yes,” you say. “He organizes their forces, and they have been effective in battle against many of our forces by hiding in the sands and staging ambushes.  They’ve been effective at destroying our spice harvesters in the past, but we’ve been able to successfully retaliate.” The Bene Gesserit flashes some hand signs at the emperor. She must be able to tell if people are lying or not. 

“What of the prophet’s whereabouts?” the Emperor asks, his voice darkening with frustration at your lack of knowledge.  The emperor’s suggested scorn directed at House Harkonnen is sour on your tongue, and you grit your teeth.  

“We control the north of Arrakis and spice production, Emperor,” you reply, keeping yourself collected.  “We believe Muad'dib has fled to the south to hide in the storms after my husband’s last military tactic was successful in neutralizing their northern bases.” 

As you utter those words, you feel a tremendous boom propagate through the air, causing the building to shudder. Everyone in the room looks up. Some of the diplomats that have accompanied the emperor swallow thickly. You and Feyd exchange knowing glances. Something isn’t right. The Sardaukar forces, who have come to protect the emperor, raise their weapons and get into formation with one line in front of the emperor, who has abandoned the throne in favor of shelter. 

The other line of Sardaukar forms a line opposite the entrance way, as more explosions can be heard beyond the walls. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Rabban slip away, ever the coward. You feel Feyd’s touch on your arm as he beckons you to position yourself behind the defenses with the other diplomats. From your shared position, you both wait and listen intently. The others in the room are paralyzed in a cold sweat, but you and Feyd are silently watching, waiting, and listening, already gathering information on the situation to calculate your next move.

Dust fills the room as another bang resonates throughout the room and the barrier breaks down. The frontline of the Sardaukar advance, weapons at the ready. As they disappear into the dust, you know they aren’t coming back. The room is almost entirely quiet, but through the haze you hear the barely audible but familiar sound of daggers piercing armor, slitting throats, and tearing flesh. The remaining Sardaukar dig their heels in as a figure emerges through the orange debris, wrapped in tan fabrics caked in others’ blood. His face is concealed by a scarf, and the only flesh of his you see are his eyes, blue from spice. He is accompanied by an army. Judging by the amount of noise they made on their arrival, you and Feyd know there are probably hundreds of them. Fighting your way out is not an option. This must be the prophet Muad'dib.

Muad'dib looks around with his blade drawn, seemingly searching for someone as he enters the room.  You see him and Feyd make eye contact. Feyd’s eyes narrow at him in curiosity. When Muad'dib does not find who he is looking for, he turns the crowd of people behind the Sardaukar guards. Most of the diplomats instinctively take a step back. He makes eye contact with the emperor before turning to his own forces and hissing something in a foreign tongue which you presume to be Chakobsa, Fremen language. He exits the room back into the crowd of Fremen who chant for him, waving their war banners.  You see they bear the hawk insignias of House Atreides. The son of Duke Leto Atreides is alive. 

The Fremen advance, easily slaying the last remaining Sardaukar. Many of the diplomats shudder and jump in surprise as the Fremen plunge their daggers into the Sardaukar warriors, who are powerless to stop them. Once they are all dead and their blood is spread across the floor in crimson red pools, the Fremen start grabbing the rest of you by your arms, and you are all dragged away one by one. You are being taken prisoner. You look to Feyd, who gives you a subtle nod as if to say “go along with it,” and you do.

--

You’ve laid low all in the confinement the Fremen have kept you in all night, not eager to give any of them a reason to kill you. Silently, you’ve been analyzing your situation, trying to figure out a way to achieve an optimal outcome, which you feel is slipping through your fingers. Since you have been taken prisoner, you can only presume that the rest of the Sardaukar and the Harkonnen army have been slaughtered and their bodies burned before daybreak. You and Feyd are likely the last living Harkonnens on Arrakis.  

After sunrise, you are called upon by a faceless Fremen, who orders all of the prisoners to follow. You are reunited with Feyd, who takes your hand, careful not to let the Fremen see this gesture of affection as to not allow them any leverage. His touch automatically makes you as at ease you can be, given that you are both captives without allies. 

Arriving in a room with the other prisoners, you see the surviving Fremen mingling and congratulating one another. The man from before stands in the clearing of the room without his face covering, his black wavy hair framing his face. Feyd turns to you and mouths “Atreides.” You nod in understanding, and watch as Paul Atreides addresses the Emperor, challenging him for the throne. Looking out the window, you see warships in the distant sky.  The other great houses have arrived and Paul Atreides threatens to destroy all the spice fields if the houses intervene. 

“Stand yourself or choose your champion,” he orders the Emperor, who turns to Feyd.  

“I select Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,” the emperor declares. “Get him a blade.” You inhale sharply, knowing this means Feyd must fight to the death against a man who has already slain many in battle and emerged victorious from the bloodbath of the previous night. You trust Feyd’s skill, but you know not to underestimate Paul Atreides. Feyd’s eyes flicker toward you. He knows what you’re thinking and gives you a slight nod as if to promise he will fight his hardest, not for the emperor, but for you. He is presented with a blade by one of the members of the emperor’s council. To your surprise, Feyd pushes it away and turns to you. Coming to stand in front of you, he gestures downward toward your legs, where your daggers are still strapped to your thighs out of sight.

“Feyd, are you sure?” you say to him, your voice small. 

“I want to use your blade. Please let me fight for you,” Feyd whispers. You nod and reach down to fulfill his request, drawing one of your Youran weapons from your garters. When you hand it to him, Feyd feels the familiar heft of your dagger in his hand, which makes him grin. Just as he remembers, it’s expertly balanced and perfectly crafted, its pointed tip shining in the low orange light of the room. He smiles, recalling the night you handed him the same blade, the first time he saw your true nature. He twirls the knife in his grip with a flourish of his wrist as he stands opposite Paul Atreides. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you, cousin,” Paul says.

“Cousin…” Feyd says, continuing to evaluate Paul for his weaknesses. “You wouldn’t be the first family member I’ve killed.”

His words don’t phase you. You’re well aware of Feyd’s family history. You clasp your hands in each other in front of your chest, willing Feyd to be the victor. Paul Atreides straightens himself and salutes Feyd. “May thy knife chip and shatter,” Paul says with a gruff tone, lowering himself into a battle stance and pointing his knife at Feyd. Feyd smirks, raising your weapon. The sight of it in his hand is gratifying for Feyd. Despite standing alone against Paul, it’s as if you are both in this fight together with him wielding your weapon. 

“May thy knife chip and shatter,” Feyd returns and within moments, they're after each other, having an all out brawl in the middle of the room. They each swipe at each other with reaction times like lightning.  The sounds of blades crashing against one another, the low smacks of their bodies colliding, and their grunts of exertion fill the room. You have to admit, Paul Atreides is an impressive fighter. He’s quick on his feet and swiftly dodges and counters many of Feyd’s attacks, but it is obvious that Feyd is the one with strength on his side. The only way for Atreides to win is if he is able to find a way to use that strength against Feyd.

You’re barely breathing at this point. Your facade of stoicism threatens to crumble when you see Paul Atreides’ forehead connect firmly with your husband’s nose. To your surprise, you don’t see any blood on Feyd’s face. Paul Atreides’ head is thrown back after almost bouncing off of Feyd’s nose. Paul’s head seems to be spinning as he stumbles backward on uneven footing.  Feyd recognizes Paul’s debilitated state is fleeting, and takes advantage of the moment, striking Paul again. The tangle of limbs is intense, but in the blink of an eye, you see Feyd disarm Paul, taking Paul’s knife for his own.  

As they break away from one another, Paul Atreides is heaving, struggling to breathe as the leather bound hilt of your dagger protrudes from his abdomen. He’s wheezing as his own blood seeps into his battle gear. His allies gaze upon the sight in shock, some wincing in second-hand pain.

Feyd approaches him promptly, and grabs Paul by the scruff of his neck, raising Paul’s own knife at him. Paul Atreides uses his own gloved hand to grab the blade, trying to push it away, but Feyd leans in, forcing the blade to slip further into Paul’s grip, cutting the flesh of Paul’s hand open with a sickening noise, the tip of the knife getting closer to piercing Paul’s neck.

The next moment, you feel like screaming. The dagger, once poised to slice open Paul Atreides’ neck, is no longer in the air visible to you. Paul Atreides has used his grip on Feyd’s blade to redirect the tip toward the stomach of your husband. Your hands fly to your mouth, tears threatening to spill.  The force Feyd puts behind his blade at that proximity is fatal. 

The memories of meeting Feyd on Youra, fighting by his side against Ozran, plotting into the early hours to kill his despicable uncle, your wedding ceremony in front of House Harkonnen, and the moments of tenderness and affection he’s given you in private flash through your mind. Your stomach writhes, and your heart shrivels into itself, and your mind begins to confront the idea that you now must mourn the life you and Feyd had assembled. Another thought flashes through your mind. You’ll likely be killed after this with the rest of the prisoners in this room, and die alone without your husband, lightyears away from your people on Youra and Giedi Prime. You’ve failed.

Through your tears, you stare at the scene as the air and the people surrounding you are completely still.  However, something gives you pause. You hear something hit the floor look down to the area under Feyd and Paul’s feet. You spy fragments of metal, broken into uneven shards, scattered across the floor. However, there is no blood to be seen.  Your eyes shoot to Feyd, who is also looking down to where they both hold the hilt of the broken knife. 

Without a second to spare, Feyd’s hand flies to your knife in Paul’s side, ripping it out of him. Paul cries out in agony, the removal of the knife causing a blood curdling squelch of skin and muscle ripping. The next moment, Feyd slits Paul Atreides’ throat with a grand swing of his arm, sending blood splatter fanning across the floor. The pregnant woman seated in the wooden throne bearing the Atreides crest lets out a high pitched shriek, and she begins to wail, seeing the light from her son’s eyes fade as his body crumples to the floor. A Fremen woman across from you lets out a shaky breath, her lip quivering and tears pool near her bright blue eyes as Paul Atreides’ fresh blood collects in a puddle on the stone floor under the gaping hole in his neck.

Feyd turns back to you, bloody blade in hand and lets out a deep exhale, allowing the tension in his own chest to dissipate. He had thought he was dead, too, but no. He is alive. He is victorious, and he gets to look into your eyes again, knowing that he has done his job for you.

Kneeling, Feyd presents the emperor with the soiled blade. The emperor smiles and pronounces Paul Atreides, the prophet Muad'dib, to be dead and Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen as the victor. In defeat, the ally of Paul, identified as Gurney Halleck, relays a message to the great houses of the outcome of the fight.  The emperor’s reign shall continue, and your husband is alive. You push your way past the others in the crowd and throw yourself at Feyd, who cradles you in his arms, running his fingers through your hair, whispering to you “Please don’t shed any more tears, my love. I am still here… I wouldn’t leave you that easily.”

“I thought I lost you,” you choke out and Feyd shakes his head, using his thumb to wipe away the tear stains on your cheeks. 

“You haven’t and you won’t,” he replies, his hands holding your body steady. “Let’s go home.”

—

Holding your knees to your chest, you sit in a private chamber on the Emperor’s vessel as it leaves the atmosphere of Arrakis to take you and Feyd back to Giedi Prime, which was the least the emperor could do given that Feyd nearly died for him. One of Feyd’s hands rests on your waist, holding you firmly in his grip while the other rubs gentle circles on your shoulder with his thumb.  Feyd watches as your eyes dart side to side, which happens when you’re deep in though. 

“What is on your mind, my love?” he asks, his voice barely a whisper.  

“I’m thinking about your battle with Paul Atreides,” you reply. “The knife broke when he tried to turn the tables on you, didn’t it?” Feyd nods, bringing his hand down to the spot on his abdomen where the knife was. “May I see where it was?” you ask and Feyd obliges, creating a small bit of distance between the two of you so that you can get a good look at his torso.  

You bring your hand to where Feyd’s armor has been sliced open by the blade. Bringing the other hand to his body, you gently spread the layers of fabric and leather apart to look through the hole. Underneath, you see Feyd’s familiar pale skin and his chiseled abdominal muscles that you’ve always loved to drag your fingers across. His skin appears to be absolutely pristine without a single nick or bruise in sight. You bring your head closer to get a better look before saying, “There isn’t evidence of any damage to your skin, Feyd. Your body is like the battle never happened. There isn’t a trace of impact.” As soon as you utter the last word in the sentence, you freeze and your lips part ever so lightly as your mind races to connect the dots. He knows that look on you, and he sees the gears turning in your mind. 

“Impact…,” you mumble to yourself. Your eyes shoot up to Feyd’s  “During the battle there was a moment when Paul Atreides’ head collided with your nose.” Your hand flies to his cheek to steady his head. You examine his nose, using your hand to tilt his head side to side. Everything about his face is unchanged, which shouldn’t be the case, especially after a fight like that and the headbutt he endured from Paul. You tip his head back. Again, there is no blood or breakage. 

Your mind begins to race as you return your hands to your husband’s torso. Your hands fumble as you attempt to remove the layers of armor in between you and Feyd’s skin. Feyd realizes what you’re doing and soon enough he’s shirtless in front of you. You extend your hand out and drag your hand over his stomach. You press your fingers firmly down onto his abdominal region and upper body repeatedly, changing the area you’re putting pressure on each time. He feels solid under your touch and not in the way you’re used to. Feyd has always been bulky and muscular, hardened from years of training, but something about this is different. It’s like his body has the durability of an alloy the researchers on Youra could only dream of engineering, but he’s still flesh and blood. Bring your fingers to your own stomach, pressing your fingers against your own front, and you gasp. “That’s it!” you exclaim.

“What is it?” he asks, knowing you are on the edge of an epiphany. 

“It’s the elixir!” you gasp, standing up and holding your head in disbelief  “It saved your life!”

 “I thought it was only to help the body retain water,” Feyd says as you get up and begin circling the room.

“Don’t you remember? That’s the end result of the elixir, but we were still unsure of the mechanism by which that happens!” you exclaim. “Remember the night I showed you the fish? I said that the fish sheds its scales at the beginning of the wet season. What I didn’t tell you is that the wet season is the only time of year we can get the scales off the fish because they fall off naturally. Our scientists have tried to get the scales before the transition of the seasons, but they've always been unable to pry the scales off or kill them because it was impossible to slice open the fish. No matter how much we sharpened the knives, we couldn’t cut them open!”

“That’s how the fish retain water in the dry season. The fish develop these scales with this compound that transforms their own bodies into a shield from the elements, so that water can’t escape. I’ve always wondered how a fish would be able to survive the whole dry season on a dried up lake bed.  This compound is why the fish species hasn’t gone extinct! When they’re sitting in their dried up ponds, no predators can eat them because their bodies are too tough to pierce,” you surmise, delight filling your complexion. “By drinking that compound, the same thing has happened to our bodies! You were able to survive the battle because your skin became this impenetrable barrier that lets you keep your water that just so happens to be impervious to outside attacks as well! That’s also why your nose didn’t break and why Paul Atreides was so disoriented after he struck you with his head. It was as if he rammed his head into a steel wall.  Researchers on Youra didn't catch this effect in the clinical trials because we don’t just go stabbing all of our test subjects with knives or subjecting them to blunt force trauma, especially not for a study about water retention!”

Feyd hardly believes what he’s hearing, but he knows it's true. Everything you’re saying makes perfect sense.  Memories from the battle flash in his mind.  He remembers his arm is suddenly bending toward himself, feeling the rough surface of the broken blade scrape against his abdomen, but the pain he had been trained to resist since childhood never hitting his senses. He brings himself to his feet and pulls you into his arms, squeezing you as tight as he can muster. “You are phenomenal, my dear,  I can’t believe you figured that out,” he murmurs to you. “Thank you.  I owe you my life.”

He lowers his lips to yours, kissing you like he’s never done before. You both cling to one another, relieved you are both alive and safe. Feyd holds the back of your head and runs his fingers through your locks tenderly, thinking about how far you both have come in this short amount of time. Mere months ago, you were a stranger he had the obligation to meet and marry. He knew he would have to enter a loveless relationship with you in the name of alliances. He tried to convince himself you were a woman he wanted to make a plaything out of.  Before, he was intent on manipulating, breaking, and exploiting you for his own amusement. Those ideas feel so foreign to Feyd now as he revels in your affections and caresses your cheek. 

Looking down at you, he sees you for what you are. You are the most beautiful being to ever exist.  Nothing past or present will ever compare to you, and it brings tears to his eyes, knowing you are his wife and he is your husband. You are the culmination of all House Ronen and House Harkonnen have worked for, a true representation of the union of your two houses, and the pinnacle of all Feyd has come to hold dear. You are where brain meets brawn, where tradition meets modernity, and the pride and joy of Feyd’s life. You are simply everything. 

-- 

Thanks for reading!  I can’t believe the series is over (but I'm also considering writing an epilogue, but I have some requests coming down the pipeline, so we'll see about that. lmk if that's something you might be interested in...). Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed Knives Dance! :)

Also is it obvious I study chemistry yet?

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Tags that aren't working for some reason??? @roguegenshin @miaraises

[deezee112]

A Decision to Make

Chapter 1 | The worst ending 1

A/N : I decided to make a part 2 because I saw that people liked my little idea. I'm so glad you liked it!

If this chapter is finished, I will go write the "worst ending" which is the boys.

Warning : This story contains themes of psychological tension , unease , an unsettling relationship dynamic between a protagonist and a mysterious humanoid object , y/n is a hot-tempered and tall person.

English is not my first language.

You stared at the doll, now seated upright on you couch, its unsettlingly realistic features illuminated by the soft morning light filtering through your apartment’s curtains. The doll no, the child was unlike anything you had ever seen.

It was designed to look like a young boy, somewhere between eight and twelve years old. Its face was delicate, almost too perfect, with skin that looked touchably soft, faintly blushed cheeks, and glassy eyes that seemed to follow your every move. It wore a simple outfit a plain shirt and pants that looked like they’d been picked out of a catalog

You crossed you arms, narrowing your eyes at it. “ So, this is my life now, huh? Babysitting a hyper realistic doll while Crowley pretends this is normal. ”

The doll, of course, didn’t respond. It simply sat there, motionless and silent, but its very presence seemed to dominate the room.

You walked to the kitchen and poured youself another cup of coffee. You mind was spinning as you tried to process the absurdity of the situation. Crowley hadn’t given you any real instructions beyond vague platitudes about care and confidentiality. What exactly was you supposed to do with it? Did it have a purpose? Could it think?

As the rich scent of coffee filled the air, you leaned against the counter and stared at the doll from afar. “ I should just return it. March back into that office and tell Crowley he’s out of his mind. Let someone else deal with this. ”

But even as you said the words, you knew you wouldn’t. Crowley had a way of making you feel trapped. Four years of working under him had taught you that refusing his " special assignments " only led to more trouble. And besides…

Your glanced at the doll again, you frown deepening. There was something about it something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It wasn’t just its unsettling realism. It was the way it seemed to be there, as though it were more than just an object.

“ Damn it ” you muttered, taking a sip of your coffee. “ Why do I always get stuck with the weird stuff? ”

After finishing you breakfast, You decided to get a closer look at you peculiar new charge. You approached the doll cautiously, half expecting it to suddenly blink or move. When it didn’t, you crouched down in front of it, you eyes scanning its face.

Its expression was neutral but oddly serene, like a child caught mid thought. The craftsmanship was impeccable every detail, from the faint freckles on its nose to the slight sheen on its lips, was painstakingly precise. You reached out and touched its hand, startled by how warm it felt.

“ This is insane ” you muttered, pulling your hand back quickly.

You circled the doll, inspecting it from all angles. There didn’t seem to be any obvious signs of robotics no seams, no wires, no panels. Yet it wasn’t purely-organic either. It existed in some strange in between state, blurring the lines between artificial and alive.

“ What are you, exactly? ” you asked aloud, as if expecting an answer.

Silence

" cool... " You cross your arms and With a sigh, you sat down on the couch beside it, keeping a cautious distance. “ Okay. Let’s think about this logically. Crowley wouldn’t give me something dangerous… probably. So, either this is some kind of advanced tech demo, or it’s… I don’t know, magic? ”

The word felt ridiculous on you tongue, but considering who you boss was, it wasn’t entirely out of the question. Crowley had always had a flair for the dramatic, and you wouldn’t put it past him to pull something out of left field.

You leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. “ Why me? Why not someone else? Someone who actually likes kids? ”

The doll remained silent, unmoving.

As the hours passed, You found yourself pacing the apartment, you thoughts racing. What was you supposed to do with it? Was you really expected to raise it like a child? That couldn’t be right—could it?

You phone buzzed on the counter, breaking you train of thought. You grabbed it and saw another message from Crowley.

How’s it going with the little one? Don’t forget feed it, talk to it, treat it like a real child. These are crucial developmental stages, after all!

You groaned, resisting the urge to throw you phone across the room. “ Treat it like a real child ” you muttered. “ Sure, why not? Because this is totally normal... ”

You set the phone down and glanced back at the doll. Despite you initial resistance, you found herself feeling a pang of… something. Pity? Responsibility? You wasn’t sure. But the idea of simply ignoring it felt wrong.

“ Fine ” you said aloud, rubbing you temples. “ Let’s see what you can do. ”

You spent the next hour tentatively testing the doll’s capabilities. Your offered it a glass of water, surprised when it tilted its head slightly and opened its mouth to drink. You spoke to it, asking simple questions, though it didn’t respond verbally. Instead, it blinked slowly or nodded, its movements smooth and eerily lifelike.

When you touched its hand again, it gripped your faintly, its skin warm and soft. You couldn’t shake the feeling that it was trying to communicate, even without words.

By the time the sun began to set, Your was sitting on the floor in front of the doll, studying it intently. It was undeniably strange, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. There was something almost endearing about its childlike mannerisms, the way it tilted its head when you spoke or blinked up at your with those unnervingly realistic eyes.

“ So, you eat, you drink, and you blink ” you said, ticking off items on your fingers. “ But you don’t talk. Or walk. Or do anything remotely useful. Great. Just great. ”

The doll blinked at you, its expression unchanging.

You sighed, leaning back against the couch. “ What am I supposed to do with you? Crowley really expects me to raise you like a kid? That’s insane. ”

But even as you said it, you couldn’t deny the faint flicker of curiosity growing inside you. What if your did try? What if you treated it like a real child, just to see what would happen?

You stared at the doll for a long moment, weighing you options. You could call Crowley and demand he take it back, or you could…

You shook you head, a wry smile tugging at you lips. “ This is ridiculous. ”

The doll tilted its head slightly, as if sensing you hesitation.

“ Okay ” you said finally, running a hand through you hair. “ Let’s give this a shot. But if you start moving around on your own, I’m locking you in a closet, got it? ”

The doll blinked again.

You chuckled despite yourself. “ All right, then. I guess the first step is figuring out what to call you. ”

You leaned forward, studying its face. There was something neutral about its features, neither overtly feminine nor masculine. It felt like a blank canvas, waiting for you to paint it with meaning.

“ Okay ” you said slowly, a faint smile playing at you lips. “ What should I name you? ”

The doll’s glassy eyes seemed to shimmer faintly in the fading light, and for a moment, You could have sworn she saw a flicker of recognition in its gaze.

But it was probably just you imagination.

[vampykween]

Second Chances (part 1)

i wanted to write about singledad!ghost x teacher!reader (which is so self indulgent as im a teacher hehe) and thus this was born summary: little poppy is simon riley's entire world and you've just had yours turned completely upside down. despite everything, it seems like everything falls into place when you're with each other. this is going to be a little series - i already have a few drabbles written and have l more ideas up my sleeve, but feel free to let me know all of yall's ideas too!! dedicated to @suimon since you love my dad!ghost so much hehe mwah

Simon is just short of pulling his hair out. He’s spent all morning wrestling with a five-year old who, last night was bouncing off the walls excited about her first day of school, but now is inconsolable and quite frankly working his last nerve.

“Poppy, love, please just get dressed. We don’t have all morning for you to mess about.”

Poppy shrugs her shoulders and blows a raspberry right in her father’s face. “Let me go, I’m not going to school,” the five-year old squirms in her father’s grasp, less than thrilled at the prospect of getting dressed for school.

Simon briefly considers whether he should invest any more energy into their morning battle or if he should just concede and let his daughter win this round. Despite her protests, he keeps his hold on Poppy and tries his best to calm her down enough to reason with her. Sometimes Simon couldn’t believe this was his life, he was tussling with his daughter about getting ready for school, when in a past life all he was ever worried about was backing his team throughout a mission. He used to be a trained killer now the only thing he’s an expert at is making silly voices for all the book characters at bedtime.

“You were so excited about school just last night, what happened lovie, what’s going on with you?”

Poppy just stares at him with her big doe eyes, the ones that look exactly like her mother’s, and makes Simon’s chest ache painfully. It’s moments like these that make him feel like the grief would never end.

After a drawn-out minute, she finally squeaks out, “What if I don’t like school? What if people are mean to me?” Simon’s heart breaks at his little girl’s admission, he, of course, worried about those things too; he wasn’t sure he even wanted to send her off for hours every day, but he also knew that Poppy could handle it.

Simon grasps both of her much smaller hands, “You’re the best girl I know, what’s not to love yeah? I’m sure you’ll make lots of friends, sweetheart.” Simon isn’t sure who he’s reassuring more at this point, but he’ll say anything to get them both through this day and all the ones that come.

Poppy sighs loudly and by something short of a miracle, she concedes with getting dressed; Simon let her pick out her own outfit, in hopes that it would rekindle her previous excitement. It helped, but only marginally.

Standing in the doorway of the classroom, is not the teacher Simon had been expecting. When he thought of teachers, he imagined either super strict, uptight older women or bright and bubbly young women fresh out of university. You were neither of those – you wore a bright smile that reached your eyes, and your voice had the most warm and comforting lilt to it. Contrastingly, you were dressed head to toe in an all-black outfit, but it didn’t make you look dark and dreary, no, on you it worked quite well. Poppy finally, but reluctantly revealed herself from behind her father’s legs, and stepped forward to greet her new teacher.

“Hi! What’s your name?” you were clearly not from anywhere near, and Poppy immediately comments on it.

“My name is Poppy, like the flower, and you talk very funny.”

Simon groaned, “Poppy, that’s not very polite, love.”

“No, no it’s alright. It’s not the first time I’ve heard that this morning,” you laugh breezily, not affronted by the little girl’s observation. The sound of your laugh is like a mirage in a desert, and Simon is taken aback at how much the sound affected him. You crouch down and introduce yourself to Poppy, then rise to greet Simon as well. You hold out your hand, clearly in an attempt to shake his, and he shakes his head to clear his stupor and takes your hand. Your hands are much smaller than his own, and much softer, not calloused from battlefields and the hardships of life.

❀

You hope you’re coming off as a well put together adult, one who’s supposed to be in charge of people’s most precious gifts. Threatening to ruin your façade is the fact that you’re shaking hands with quite possibly the hottest man you’ve seen since you upturned your life and moved to London a few months ago. This is your student’s dad, jesus get a grip, you hastily remind yourself. You can’t help yourself though, and your eyes are roaming over his massive hands searching for a wedding band. You’re not sure whether it’s a good thing or not when you see there isn’t one. He’s hot, but he’s got a child, and you’ve just had your heart shattered into a million pieces this summer. The last thing you need is to be lusting after your student’s unreasonably hot father.

You’re not even sure you want to be here; nothing had gone the way you planned and now you’re a million miles away from your family – who had forewarned you that your ex maybe was not worth moving across the world for, but you were in love, you didn’t want to hear that.

Poppy, who seemingly gained some confidence, breezes past her father and finds her way easily into the classroom. You looked back up at her father, realizing you hadn’t caught his name – he tilts his head ever so slightly at you as if he’s trying to discreetly assess you and it makes your palms sweat.

“I didn’t catch your name, can’t call you Poppy’s dad all year now, can I?” you prod causally, laughing despite the stifling air that was forming between you two.

“You can call me Simon,” he replies elusively and suddenly you’re overcome with the feeling that there’s something mysterious about this man – and as attractive as he is, the revelation also makes you feel unnerved.

taglist: @happy-mushrooms @lunamoonbby

banners from @reveriesources and @cafekitsune pic creds: @ave661

[respectthepetty]

Is Babe my favorite character in Your Sky?

Yes.

And when she finds out all the shit that Oh has been doing, she will end that boy where he stands.

Because once Mew showed up with the red bag, I was convinced she was sent on behalf of the devil Oh.

Since she was a black bag girlie before being approached by the devil Oh.

But there's only room in this story for one Red Rascal, and a Black Brooder is already in love with him.

And even though Real is harping on his best friend for being a goofball in love, Real is much worse as he wears Hia's red often, even if it's a darker shade.

Because unlike Real, who is exposing all his secrets by wearing Hia's color, Blue Boy Fah tries really hard to keep his secret hidden, which is probably why he wears so much black.

If Teerak knew just how loyal and in love Fah really was, Fah thinks it might scare him.

But all the signs are there. Literally. 💕

And if Fah paid attention, he would notice Rak is feeling the same way since Rak continues to wear Fah's true color.

Oh, and center his entire life around Fah the sky.

But it couldn't be more obvious than at the celebration party where the pink straw was near Pink Person Joy and the green drink was near Green Guy Type.

Fah, hiding behind pick-up lines, sat there with in his black shirt and his blue straw and practically confessed to Rak with his yellow straw and PINK SHIRT!

Regardless if Rak is aware of it, he is already in love with that Blue Boy.

And Fah continues to give Rak his love and his color by giving Rak sweet treats with color-coded blue straws.

Yet he still keeps his secrets as he lies to Rak about who drew the adorable picture on his drink.

So since these two are incapable of thinking straight when it comes to each other, I'll be the judge of the potential date outfits because I am an expert in colors, which begins with Rak in his color!

7/10 - This would have been the perfect outfit for Fah since he is a Blue Boy in love, but doesn't fit Rak. Not yet at least.

8/10 - This outfit blended their colors together, but the red served as a reminder of the devil Oh breathing down their necks.

0/10 - It's not in their colors and the exposure of Rak's waist would have made that poor Blue Boy insane.

10/10 - It's Fah's color, and Rak looks adorable!

7/10 - If the yellow was more vibrant, this would have been a 9/10 since it also included pink!

?/10 - Oh! This is tough. It's red, but it's strawberries, and strawberries represent hearts (love) AND Rak wore a strawberry shirt the night Fah rescued him and kissed his head which started this entire fake-dating scheme, but Rak had to be rescued from Oh, so . . . this would be a great shirt for a real date where they both fully realize it's a real date at the same rooftop bar, but it's not right for this date. 5/10

But Rak is asking the important questions, which are what does he wear and should they match COLORS!

So I was thrilled that Fah, who is doing a horrible job of hiding his feelings and color, wore a dark blue shirt with a heart over his heart, and Rak wore his boy's color but much lighter and the most visible part of the shirt underneath were the letters in blue and pink, so their colors match but so do their feelings!

Once again, Fah has given so much of his love and color to Rak that Rak, completely unaware, has embraced his Blue Boy and his color without hesitation.

And if this show was finishing before December 31st, it would have won an award specifically for reminding me that these queer color-coded boys are in love by giving me rainbow lorikeets on their date.

Because they are color-coded boys in love with each other!

Even if they don't realize it yet.

[fierymiasma]

ꕥYou Look Better In Greenꕥ//Sebastian x MC

NOW WITH PART 2: And You Look Fetching in Yellow

Summary: In which Sebastian sees the new transfer student wearing someone else's scarf and proceeds to absolutely lose it.

Word Count: 1.5k

|| Masterlist || AO3 ||

Ever since the new 5th year joined Hogwarts and knocked Sebastian on his ass (while stealing his heart at the same time), Sebastian developed a new morning ritual.  He would arrive, as late as possible as usual, to breakfast, plop down on the empty spot that Ominis had so nicely saved for him, listen to Imelda prattle on about some boring Quidditch news, and sigh and longingly stare over at the Hufflepuff table.

It was always something different every day, much to Sebastian's delight.  Sometimes she would wear the most eccentric outfit, a clashing cacophony of mismatched colors that only she could pull off while being the most gorgeous witch in Hogwarts.  Sometimes she would arrive late, wiping the sleep from her eyes, tired from their shared late night misadventures.

This morning Sebastian was unlucky.  Sitting directly across from Poppy, she was obscured from Sebastian's gaze.

Even more unlucky, Imelda Reyes decided she had permission to sit next to him.

"Did you see what the new Hufflepuff was wearing today, Sebastian?"  Imelda teased.

Ugh.  "No, why should I care?  It's not like I spend my mornings just ogling her."

"Of course not."  Imelda said breezily.  "It's only been the talk of the entire school.  Surprised you were the last to hear about it, what with you practically drooling over her every morning."

Ominis snorted into his porridge.

"I have no idea what you're on about.  What she does doesn't concern me in the slightly."  Sebastian lied like the lying liar he was.

Imelda shrugged.  "Oh, that's a shame.  And here I was about to bring you the news that your favorite Hufflepuff is most definitely off the market now.  Looks like someone got to her before you did."

"WHAT?"  Sebastian bellowed.

Imelda grinned.  "See for yourself, pretty boy."

Playing right into her trap, Sebastian stood up, now blatantly searching for the Hufflepuff.  He was able to angle his view around Poppy.  A part of him was excited to see what ridiculous set outfit she was wearing today.  Sebastian didn't see what the fuss was all about.  Nothing unusual, her usual Hufflepuff robes, a grey sweater, and-

-And a Red and Yellow Gryffindor scarf.  

His mind went blank.  The usual bustling of voices in the Great Hall silenced themselves.  Sebastian could feel the heat erupt in the back of his eyes.  His wand shot dangerous hot sparks, itching for a fight.

Who, in Salazar Slytherin's name, gave her that?

She was wearing a Gryffindor scarf in front of the whole damn school.  Anyone who was anyone knew what that meant.  Why, it was practically a front page advertisement on the Daily Prophet!  Wearing another House's apparel meant you were seeing someone.  Off the market.  No longer available.  Every other day you would see a Ravenclaw girl wear a new black and yellow tie.  A Slytherin showing off their newly acquired blue coat.  It was a possessive silly schoolboy thing, but if you were an eligible bachelor or bachelorette, you wore your gifted scarf with pride.

Who in Merlin's name would claim what was rightfully his?  Who would be daft enough?

He didn't even register that his body was moving, until he was halfway across the Great Hall, making a beeline straight towards the Hufflepuff table.

"Morning."  He greeted Poppy and the new transfer student stiffly, interrupting their conversation.

"Oh Sebastian!  Good morning!  Did you have any of the strawberry tarts?  They're especially good today!"  She beamed behind the offending Gryffindor scarf that was around her neck.

"Who gave you that?"

"Oh, well, I'm pretty sure the House elves make the tarts from scratch and then they sort of apparate it up here.  I'm actually not quite sure how their magic-"

"Who gave you that tacky thing?  Was it Garreth?  Prewett?  I always knew that weasel was up to no good.  I should remind him o-"

She looked at him in alarmed confusion.  "What on earth are you talking about Sebastian?"

Sebastian felt his jaw clench.  So, she had no idea.  Of course she wouldn't.  She was a new transfer student, immensely popular and with half the school falling over themselves fawning over her.  It had to Prewett.  Only that sniveling bastard was underhanded enough to trick Sebastian's Hufflepuff into something so nefarious.  Practically broadcasting to the whole school that they were dating.  Gryffindor chivalry indeed, taking advantage of someone like that.  He bet all Prewett had to do is go up to her with his big, ugly nose and manipulate her into wearing that disgusting thing.

"Your scarf," he spat.  "Who gave it to you?"

Her eyes darted at Poppy who gave her a bewildered shrug.  She blinked in confusion, almost as if she forgot she was wearing it.  "Oh, this?  It's so cozy and warm, isn't it?  I think it really matches with my complexion!"

Sebastian could practically feel his back molar crack.

She continued, unaware of the inner storm brewing inside of Sebastian.  "Natty and I were out at Hogsmeade and got caught in the rain.  My poor scarf got soaked, and I haven't had a chance to learn the drying charm yet.  She was nice enough to lend me hers instead!"

He deflated, wand dropping into his pocket; fight forgotten.  "Ah…Natty…the other…transfer"  Of course.  It wasn't that long ago that Natty transferred and was learning all the nuances of the social intertwining of a different country much less Hogwarts social etiquette.  Probably thought all of this was silly anyway.

"Is something the matter, Sebastian?"  She leaned over placing her gentle hand on his forehead.  "You're awfully red.  You're practically burning up!"

Poppy tried to hide her laughter behind her hands.  

Sebastian's blush was so strong it practically hid all the freckles on his face.  Arms flapping around, he pushed away her hand from his forehead.  "Never mind me.  It's a miracle you didn't get sick wearing that silly thing.  If you really needed an extra scarf you should have come straight to me."

He started undoing his own warm green and silver scarf.  And with the most nonchalance and charm he could muster, he gently wrapped it around his Hufflepuff's neck.  Green and silver framed her rising blush so nicely.  Something deep in his stomach purred possessively in approval.

"There.  All better.  Those colors match you better anyway.  Red and yellow look awful on you."  He flushed.  "Not that you ever look awful.  You look fantastic.  One of-No, the best looking person at Hogwarts."  His ears burned as Poppy practically howled in laughter unable to hold herself back any longer.  "Um, best looking friend at Hogwarts.  Much better than that old Ominis anyhow."

His Hufflepuff blushed, trying to hide her smile behind her newly acquired gift.  The butterflies in her stomach were practically doing flips.  "Thank you, Sebastian.  Y-you're not so bad yourself, for a Slytherin."

He nodded stiffly.  "Well, if you ever need any more just ask me.  Slytherin is a good look on you."  He wasn't sure what to do now that his mission was complete.  "Um, don't ask Ominis though.  He…um…he hates it when people borrow his clothes.  Gets all particular about his things.  Just come to me whenever you need anything."

Her eyes swam in amusement, and she brought Sebastian's scarf closer to her face, inhaling the rich dark scent left behind.  A rich oak wood, some warm-scented cologne, and a slight musk that was undeniably Sebastian.  Her eyes never left his gaze as she gauged his reaction.  "Oh, how lucky, that I am friends with the most charitable Slytherin I know.  It's nice to know that my friends are so concerned about me."

Sebastian's knees felt weak.  He mustered up the energy to croak out, "Well, it's not all charity.  It's nice having friends in my debt."

She got closer to him, in the mood for something a bit more daring.  "Well, I would hate to always be in your debt.  There must be some way to repay you."

His mouth gaped open.  For once, the manipulative, charming Slytherin was at a lost for words.

"How about I treat my favorite Slytherin to some Butterbeer?  My treat?  I have to start paying back some of that debt somehow."

Sebastian's mouth was dry.  "If I have nothing better to do, I suppose I'll join you.  It's not like I'm doing anything."  (Ominis wouldn't mind getting ditched.)

"It's a date then."  Sebastian choked at her words.  "7'oclock.  Three Broomsticks.  I'll see you then."

Sebastian nodded stiffly and promptly marched himself to the Slytherin table, a bit bewildered as to what just occurred.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Poppy's laughter finally subsided, as she finally got a moment's rest to wipe the tears away from her eyes.  "Blimey, I can't believe that worked.  I knew borrowing Natty's scarf was a brilliant move."

The other girl smiled, gently packing away the old scarf borrowed from Natty back into her bags, right on top of her very own and very dry Yellow and black scarf that was secretly tucked away.  "What can I say Poppy?  Sometimes to catch a Slytherin you got to think like a Slytherin."

Part 2

AO3: fierymiasma

[monstas1ut]

Reprisal

ARMIN ARLERT x black!reader

Summary

__ armin seemed to always get the shorter end of the stick when it came to.. well.. everything. however, a new opportunity showed up right in front of his eyes when his black!crush had a falling out with her bf. maybe armin wouldn’t have recorded himself fucking her dumb if her bf didn’t bully him through kindergarten to college…

Content

__ black!reader, female reader, dom!armin, risk, dirty talk, crying out of pleasure, big dick armin, size diff(you’re bigger, not taller), pussy fingering, recording/videotape, squirting,

__ brown skin can be dark, light, medium color.. whatever. brown is brown.. and it's gorgeous

Was it wrong for the blonde to admire how pretty those tears were? They fell over the russet color cheeks you possessed, showing no signs of stopping. The way your throat was closing up, your short breaths of helplessness never sounded so sweet. It was indeed wrong to think of your sadness as his victory, but Armin couldn’t help it.

That day, there was a twitch at the side of his lips that ached to smeer across his face, but Armin fought it. He wanted to smile so badly only because he knew he had gotten what he deserved. Armin could remember just how much his heart twanged and twisted when you started dating his own bully. There was no way he could catch up with you, not with his timid aura, his bulky glasses, and his attire.

Not to mention how geeky he was.

The posters in Armin’s room happened to be ‘women repellent’ as your boyfriend would call it. And Armin lacked any real style because his parent’s preferred him to wear button ups and slacks everyday. With his face stuck in books and his hand always holding some wooden pencil, he’d never have a girlfriend. Or, maybe those are just things your boyfriend packed in his head. Armin could’ve sworn he’d never have a girl to kiss, hug, or marry. That was another thing his bully preached to him.

But yet, his girlfriend was here in his geeky, woman repellent room filled with posters, books, and tiny machines. And your eyes were overflowing with desperate pleasuring tears.

And this time, Armin didn’t resist his tempting smirk.

The grey sheets of his bed had a formed wet spot that only largely grew over the orgasms. His lanky fingers were covered in that same wetness as his other hand held the device that witnessed the entire scene. As bad as it sounded, the both of you concluded that this was definitely something to be recorded. The way Armin understood your body so quickly and effortlessly, the way you’d already came over and over again. It’s been thirty minutes and the way Armin’s fingers wrinkled up from your wet hole made it even better. It felt so damn good.

“Armin~… I-… No more… Fuck~” your lustful voice made Armin’s cock hard. You in general made his cock hard. Your pretty face, your long eyelashes, glossy lips, your cute little two piece outfit. He would watch from afar how those skimpy cotton shorts matched the cropped top. It was white, and it made your skin flourish. Armin hated that your boyfriend had you all to himself.. but apparently that just wasn’t the case anymore.

“You said that a few minutes ago y/n but you’re still here with the wettest pussy ever…” you couldn’t see him because you had your e/c eyes closed from the slight embarrassment, but you could almost hear the cheeky smirk on his tongue. Armin was taller than you, but he was so puny at the same time. He was undoubtedly the nerdiest male in the school. He sucked at sports, wore glasses, kept his face in a book, and hated crowds. In his eyes, there was no way you’d fall in his arms, however that’s exactly what happened.

You and your boyfriend had a bit of a falling out, and Armin was in the hallway at the time. All you needed was some gentle care and you got exactly that… what he didn’t expect was for you to take it so much to heart. You didn’t let it go, and you even began staying around him more than you should.

Now you were spread on his bed and reaching another orgasm from just his fingers. How was he this experienced? You failed to understand, nor did you care right now. Your pussy was so achy that nothing made sense, only the sweet sensation of your insides being rubbed against.

“Right…Right there Armin.. ah-..shit.” Your moans were so pretty on camera, and Armin’s small chuckle added to the extreme hotness that displayed. “ I figured, I do understand your body more than you know..” Armin teased in a matter-of -fact type of manner. He wasn’t even surprised of the much louder moan that was released from you. He wasn’t even surprised by the way your pussy released the clear liquid on his fingers. It was fascinating how you squirted on his fingers, and the pure sound of it made him excited. That mixed with your whiny pleas were heaven sent, and it was obvious how much he loved it.

He moved his hand up to his mouth and eagerly licked up the juices that were dripping down from his fingers.

“Did that feel good? Cumming over and over again? Would you like me to bring you more pleasure?” Armin sounded like more of a cocky bastard than before, his head tilt only making you stare into his eyes with a type of hatred that meant nothing. You couldn’t hate him, right now you felt in love with him. Your pussy was in love with him, and his cock didn’t even make an appearance yet..

“Yes… Armin, please?” You whispered, almost begging with your eyes. The camera caught every emotion, every deep feeling from you which was going to anger your ex from head to toe. This video was going to break him, if not completely destroy him. It was the mere fact that you’ve done this with the boy he bullies, and the fact that he was much better at making you cum.

And the fact that his fucking dick was bigger.

The camera caught the undeniable lust from the both of you. Armin’s body only lacked his shirt while you were all spread out for everyone to see. Beautiful and brown with eyes begging for this nerd to absolutely slut you out.

“I’d like this position, just to show the camera how needy you are.” Armin muttered this to himself as he lifted you and moved you in the position of a reverse cowgirl. He was happily laid out with his blonde hair against his somewhat flat pillow. His hand kept a grip on the phone, pointing at your large, juicy brown ass that seemed to be overtaking his lower half. Armin was quite skinny, and your ass was far from that, as well as your thighs. So the picture was hot, just seeing how your thickness overlapped his body.

“Lean forward for me, pretty..” with another command, you leaned forward against his lower legs and your pussy opened up nicely for him and the camera. It was already nicely stretched from the constant use of his fingers. So, when Armin’s thick cock sprung out, it didn’t seem all that bad to imagine pushing inside of an insanely tight cunt.

“You are ethereal… an angel almost. That’s if you weren’t begging to be filled up.” With a tease, Armin let the camera capture his cock being slapped against your trembling lips. The scene captured his pc in the background, the screen projecting a computer game while a poster of Star Wars was up in front of you. Armin could already hear the wall punches coming from your ex’s room.. he couldn’t wait to send the video to him.. it excited the nerd so much that he had to be cocky about it…

Just once…

“Slip it inside yourself… see just how far a real cock can go.” Armin grumbled, knowing he was bigger than your ex. You indeed knew this too and his cock size kind of frightened you, but it made you wetter to think about. And without being a brat or being disobedient, you slowly grabbed Armin’s cock with a gentle hand before slowly aiming it towards your winking hole that was eager to be filled.

Your soft pants and moans didn’t go unrecognized as you slowly let his pink tip slip inside of you. The feeling was so overwhelming and it made your knees and arms all weak. Considering that, you were completely laying on Armin’s legs. His cock accidentally buried inside of you. It was so quick, but the feeling was undeniably strong.

“Fuckkk~… Y-You so fuckin big Armin~…”

It boosted his ego that he thought he never had, and he got it all on tape. The way you were starting to grind against him, the way you’d slightly lift your head to look back at him and the camera. All of it made him harder if that was even possible. “You love how it feels… You've never felt something as big as this in your pretty guts, now have you?” Armin asked teasingly as his hand moved to grip a handful of your ass cheek. He couldn’t help but make it jiggle and slap it with genuine love for it.

“No… no!… This the biggest dick I eva’ had…” you slurred, slowly beginning to rise your hips and drop them right back down. “Tell him that…” with a husky twang to his voice, Armin demanded you said this.. specifically towards your ex. His dominance really peeked through when saying those words, and you complied while slowly moving your lower body faster. Those musical juicy sounds started to get louder, and for some reason, Armin loved that even more than the skin slapping.

“Tell the camera.. how much better I am.. how much bigger I am than him… tell them, pretty..” Armin almost begged this, however it was overshadowed with his hostile dominance that made you tense up on his cock.. but those pretty cheeks didn’t stop jiggling on his pelvis.

“Armin~… y-your dick is-..fuck. Your dick is so much better than his… I love it so fucking much… I never felt Dick so far inside of me..” with a whiny tone, you moaned this out with struggle. The camera couldn’t help but catch the white precum on his cock, or that jiggling ass of yours that looked exactly like water. Your ass looked like you were suffocating Armin, but fuck could he tame it.

Smacking sounds came from exactly that, as well as your wet pussy being slammed against him. The rhythmic movements made it obvious it was good sex, and who knew Armin could take it? Who knew he was strong enough? This man could even keep the phone steady while being sucked in by your golden pussy. He was absolutely nerdy yet behind those glasses were dominant, lustful eyes that gained a hint of possession…

“That’s right, pretty… now surprise him by squirting on my cock.. he doesn’t even know you can do that..”

ⓒ Monstas1ut , Do not copy

[lupiningwolves]

Teasing | S.Rogers x fem!reader

summary: teasing steve leads to him snapping

warnings: Dom!Steve x Sub!fem!reader, smut, Sir kink, degradation, praise, male and female masturbation, light choking, light breeding, cumming inside, unprotected piv

guess i‘m back? not proofread btw

“Don’t you think that this is a bad idea?”

Sam didn’t need to say that. You were able to feel the tension in his shoulders and the fear that radiated from him. Still, he fulfilled his best friend duties and helped you. Though he was right and this was probably the worst idea you ever had in your entire life

To be fair, it was Steve’s own fault. His idea to agree with Tony on this celebration party in a club somewhere in New York. His idea to ask you to be his date. His idea of what you should wear. His idea to tease you by small touches and smirks and dark looks. And definitely his idea to not interact with you otherwise. He knew what he was doing. He had smirked every time you pressed down your thighs together after he touched you.

Now, the tables have turned. You had discarded your jacket, now revealing the little of an outfit you wore and asked Sam to go to the dance floor with you. He had agreed way before he saw the death stare his friend gave him.

“Don’t be silly, Sam. What could possibly happen?” To you, Sam. There was a lot to happen to you, though—at least you hoped so. You and Steve had been teasing each other forever to the point that you weren’t possible to give yourself the much needed release anymore. And Steve knew. God, he so did. And he got off on the way you tried everything to get a reaction out of him.

It surely seemed like you did now. He watched you from the table as Tony and Clint talked about something he definitely was not listening to. His had that rested on the table was balled into a fist, his eyes filled with lust and jealousy. It wouldn’t take much longer for him to get up, drag you out of here and fuck you.

“Are you really sure that-“ Sam stopped mid-sentence when you slung your arms around his neck and pulled him closer towards you. “What the fuck are you doing?”

You moved your face to the other side of his head, where Steve couldn’t be sure what you were doing. “Just relax, I’m this won’t be much longer. Put you hands on my-“

Before you could finish your sentence you were pulled off of Sam and dragged out of the club. You looked back over your shoulder when Sam stood, head shaking and grinning. Then, you looked up the the person on your right. Steve looked furious, which only increased the wetness pooling in your underwear.

His hand gripped your upper arm tightly when he opened the door to his car for you. Never had you been driven around New York so quickly. “You just had to be a little slut, didn’t you?”, Steve asked harshly and opened the door to his room in the tower. “Desperate little girl.”

“I just ended what you started. I think you should thank me.” Oh, so someone would help you.

Steve gripped your neck and squeezed. “It had only taken a little ‘please’ from you and I would’ve made this so much more pleasurable for you. But apparently, the idea never crossed your mind. Or you just wanted to be treated like the whore you are.” He let go of your neck and threw his jacket somewhere into the room. “Clothes off. On the bed.”

You did like he had asked in record time and lied down on the bed. Steve had gotten rid of his shirt, revealing his muscular chest. “Steve, please.”

“Now’s not the time to start with the begging. You should’ve done that a lot earlier, baby”, he said and stood in front of the bed. “I think seeing as you were a bad girl, you should be punished. Denied what you want most.” His lips turned up into a devilish grin as your eyes widened. “Make yourself cum, otherwise I won’t touch you.”

“Steve-”

“Wrong”, he interfered sternly. “Adress me properly, baby.”

Your eyes rolled back at his words and your hands involuntary found their way to your dripping core. “Sir”, you breathed. “You know I can’t do that.”

“You should’ve thought about that a lot sooner, then. Get going, we haven’t got all day.”

Fuck, maybe it was possible to do that if he continued with his words. You started teasing your clit, head already throwing back. Everything was sensitive, especially now that Steve was watching. Your other hand gripped your tits and squeezed and massaged.

You were already moaning and shutting your eyes after a few touches. You pushed two fingers inside of you, whereupon a particular moan erupted in the room. But it wasn’t yours. You opened your eyes to see Steve standing naked now, his semi-hard cock in his hand.

A whole new wave of arousal came over you. “Sir, please, j-just touch me. Let me touch you.”

“No, baby. Be a good girl and continue. If you’re good I’ll fuck you afterwards.”

At the thought your fingers sped up, trying as hard as possible for your filthiest dream to come true. Much to your surprise, it didn’t take much long for you to reach the point where you were able to cum already. It was probably the way Steve had jerking himself off, throwing his head back here and there, but always looking at you and keeping eye contact.

Something about all it was forbidden arousing, having you ready to cum—just like he had asked. “G-Gonna cum, Sir. Please let me.”

“Already? I thought you said you couldn’t do it.” His eyes were fixated on your fingers as they sped up again, bringing you so close to the edge. “Go on, be a good girl and cum all over your fingers.”

And you did. You felt yourself clench around your fingers and let out a series of loud moans. Still, you kept your eyes open and watched how Steve admired his view.

In a moment of content, you let your eyes fall shut for a second while you pulled your fingers out of your dripping pussy. Steve had used this to his advantage, got on the bed and thrusted into you in one hard thrust.

Your eyes flew open in shock, immediately whimpering at the stretch. “Fuck, baby, always so fucking tight”, he moaned. “My good slut.”

You rapidly nodded, watching how Steve’s cock pumped inside you. “Mhm, s’good, Sir.”

“Yeah? Feel good, baby?”

You nodded, throwing your head back when Steve grabbed your waist and took you at a different angle. That allowed him to hit this specific spot inside of you, making your legs shake and mind cloud. Every time he pushed his cock back inside of you, an unidentified noise escaped your mouth.

You had stopped registering anything else than the pleasure and Steve’s word a long time ago. Now, you felt the edge building in your stomach again, there was just a little something missing.

“Please, Sir, m-more”, you mumbled and gripped his biceps.

Steve smirked down at you, knowing exactly knowing what you wanted. “What do you need, baby? Hm? Tell me or else I can’t help you.” You mumbled something incoherent. “C’mon, be a good girl.”

You couldn’t talk anymore, simply grabbing his wrist and placing his hand around your throat, closing his fingers with yours. It was like something had snapped inside him. He closed his hand tightly, a little oxygen still making its way. He pounded even harder into you, his other hand circling your clit.

“Needa cum, Sir”, you said. “Please, p-please, cum.”

“Do it, baby. Right behind you.”

You fell over the edge the second he finished his sentence. You were still shaking around him, because he was pounding into you restlessly, trying to chase his own high. “Where do you want my-“

“Inside”, you answered before he could finish his sentence.

With one last thrust, he spilled his seed inside of you. “Look at that, baby. You think anyone else would’ve bred you this beautifully?”

“No, Sir. Only you.”