#i did so well(i say as i insult my own drawing)

[ranpazz]

I've done it. I've drawn Jazz. I love her eyes tbh. put her in a t-shirt bc i didn't wanna ruin it with some weird fit.🥹

(plz ignore the mistakes on the hair I got HELLA lazy.)

[aventurineswife]

Hello :D! Can I request how Aventurine, Sunday, and Ratio would handle accidentally taking a joke too far/saying something that hurt the reader?

A Joke Too Far

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Miscommunication, Emotional Hurt/Healing, Fluff and Angst, Apologies and Redemption, Vulnerable Moments.

Warnings: Emotional Hurt, Minor Self-Deprecation, Angst and Tension, Characters may exhibit self-blame, Fluff resolution (Happy Ending), Sensitive themes of guilt and emotional wounds.

The usually unflappable Aventurine had made a misstep. What had started as light teasing about your supposed inability to bluff during a game of cards had spiraled into a sharp comment about your naivety in real life. Though it had been meant as a jest, your sudden silence spoke volumes. The flicker of pain in your eyes wasn’t something Aventurine could easily brush off.

He leaned back in his chair, feigning his usual relaxed demeanor as the cards slipped through his fingers, but his mind raced. His charm and wit had saved him countless times, yet here, it felt inadequate.

Standing, he made his way to your side, dropping to a crouch so he could meet your eyes. The air of playfulness softened, replaced by genuine contrition. “Well,” he said, voice quieter than usual, “it seems even I can misread the stakes. I didn’t mean to draw blood.”

You glanced at him, unsure how to respond.

“Let me make it up to you,” he continued, his lips twitching into a softer smile. “How about I put my pride on the table? A gamble just for you—I’ll let you choose the terms.” He tilted his head, his eyes catching the light. “All you have to do is say the word, and I’ll pay my dues.”

His sincerity shone through the offer, and you couldn’t help but let the tension in your shoulders ease. Aventurine had a way of making you feel seen, even when he stumbled.

Sunday was known for his eloquence and composed nature, but even he could falter. His comment, a teasing remark about how you seemed too attached to fleeting, mundane pleasures, was meant to be harmless. Instead, it struck a nerve, and you turned away sharply.

The halo behind him dimmed slightly, as though reflecting his own self-reproach. Sunday didn’t immediately speak; he knew words hastily given were often meaningless. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence warm yet unintrusive, like sunlight filtering through clouds.

“I have erred,” he began gently, his eyes searching for yours. “I did not intend to undermine what brings you joy. If I have caused you pain, it is my failure, not yours.”

His voice, calm and steady, carried the weight of sincerity. Sunday placed a hand over his heart, bowing his head slightly—a gesture of respect, almost reverent. “Your happiness, fleeting or eternal, is yours to cherish. I would never wish to diminish it.”

You glanced at him, finding it hard to hold onto your frustration in the face of his humility. Sunday smiled softly, the light behind him glowing a little brighter. “Perhaps I could learn from you, rather than judge. Show me the beauty you see—I would be honored.”

Ratio had been in the middle of one of his characteristically blunt tirades, critiquing a decision you had made during a project. His comment—that it was “hardly a surprise given your level of experience”—was not meant to wound, but the sharp edge of his tone had cut deeper than he realized.

When he noticed your silence, the shift in your posture, he paused. It wasn’t often that Ratio miscalculated, but when he did, he took it seriously. For a moment, he considered doubling down, justifying his words with logic, but the pang of guilt in his chest stopped him.

He took a breath, stepping closer. “I was careless,” he admitted, his voice softer than usual. His eyes, so often piercing, held a rare vulnerability. “My intent was to challenge, not to insult. But it seems I failed to consider how my words might be received.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the uncharacteristic apology.

Ratio removed his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose in a rare display of frustration. “The truth is, I respect your contributions more than I expressed. I let my standards obscure my appreciation.” He hesitated, then added, “I may not always convey it well, but your perspective is valuable to me.”

His straightforward approach made it clear he wasn’t just placating you, and slowly, the sting of his words began to fade. Ratio replaced his glasses and straightened, a small but genuine smile touching his lips. “Shall we try again? Together, this time.”

[crushmeeren]

no bc thinking about akutagawa, the port mafia dog that everyone thinks is so scary (he is) but who is actually the biggest gentleman. who hates plants bc they’re such a hassle to take care of, but who buys you flowers and puts sugar in the water vase to keep them alive ! 🫧🫧

who also just loves biting you. who is the biggest dick in bed, choking you and watching you cum with slits for eyes. who’ll kiss your throat right after he bruises it.

i forget if this is canon or not, but i saw somewhere that he doesn’t know what the frilly thing around his neck is called 😭 (i think its a cravat?)

Oh my FUCK!! Just like that I’m being sucked in and writing about him… Also I think that’s correct, it’s a cravat. Levi from AOT wore one too.🤤

master list link

You’re right…. Ryuu is such a fucking guard dog — a Doberman, if you will. He’s tightlipped and terrifying when he tails you around town, or anywhere really.

You want a few inches of space while you’re in the bar? At the store? At a birthday party? Too fucking bad. He sneers at everyone who gets too close, challenging each person who dares chat you up in his presence without a single word. You smack him in the chest when he pushes the line, teasing him with a “down Ryuunosuke, be a good boy.” He huffs, unhappy, but backs off for the time being. Until something sets him off again.

Although you have to use an unfair amount of willpower not to show it, Ryuu’s aware, and smug, about the fact that his protective and obsessive behavior tugs on the part of your brain that tells you to shove him into the sheets when you get home.

This isn’t to go without saying that Ryuu’s such a sweetie when it comes to you. Like tooth rotting sort of sweet. It’s not so much displayed through words, but rather it’s spelled out in his actions. As stated above, the man does not have a green thumb. First off, plants require far too much attention. Attention that he’d rather spend on you. Second, even if he has tried to grow plants before, though he swears he hasn’t, they just seem to mock him. They die and if he’s honest, he can’t be bothered with whether they live or not.

But, for you, Ryuu did just enough research on how to keep flowers off of life support. When Ryuu brought you flowers for the first time and he noticed how your eyes brightened, how you buried your nose into soft petals and inhaled a lungful, only to hum in delight and aim the single most affectionate look he’s ever gotten at him, well, he needed the flowers to live for as long as you willed them to.

Ryuunosuke loves to suck bruises along your throat, your collarbone, any unmarked part of your body he can get his hands on. It absolutely ties into his possessiveness. You tell him he’s a “territorial ass,” but you moan his name and tilt your head to the side, spreading your thighs open as you insult him. You ask him for more kisses without really asking him.

He rolls his eyes but one side of his mouth twists into a smile, fitting himself snug between your legs. He always comes back with “Yeah? Well you’re a fucking brat,” pressing the harsh words into your collarbone. “You think I won’t mark what’s mine? That I’d let anyone not know who owns you?”

It’s got to be common knowledge that Ryuu is a jerk in bed. That he likes to tease, likes to edge you, even ruin your orgasm once in a while because his dick gets hard when you cry. A thrill races down his spine when you let him choke you, stomach drawing in tight. The pads of his fingers press deep into the sides of your throat, making your head throb and your cheeks flush hot to the touch when all your blood rushes to them. He almost bites the tip of his tongue off when your pussy squeezes the life out of his cock.

On the other side, something probably scratches the out of reach itch in Ryuunosuke’s brain when you take the reins from him. He’s always got too much on his plate, and being able to give up control satisfies his secret desire to be taken care of. His expression is never more open, never more loving, more tender than when you’re riding him. It’s slow and steady, you appreciate every inch of his cock as it slides in and out of your pussy.

You brace your hands on either side of his head and Ryuu stares up at you, his heavy lidded gaze mirroring yours as he pants, these small puffs of air that are just loud enough to make out. You repeat the smooth, steady rise and fall of your hips, lips parting and a breathy “Ryuunosuke,” drips off your tongue. You play it up a bit, knowing how worked up Ryuu gets when you moan his full name.

It works this time as it has all the others.

His breath stutters in his chest, nails digging in and pinching your ass. “Ryuunosuke, please baby, make me cum. Your cock is so good, help me.” Your pussy squeezes tight around him.

Ryuu’s eyes begin to roll, lids fluttering before he lets out a breathless laugh. “You’re playing with me, angel.” He’s too smart, he realized what you were doing from the get go. He secures his arms around your waist and rolls until your back hits the mattress. “Such a helpless little thing for me, aren’t you princess?” He pushes his hips forward and you swear the tip of his cock presses against your cervix.

Ryuunosuke trails his fingers up the underside of your forearms, tickling you, and laces your fingers together, pinning your hands by your head. He dips down to whisper in your ear.

“You don’t have to worry, my angel. I’ll ruin you. You’ll never think of another man or want someone else’s cock ever again.”

You belong to Ryuunosuke, but you knew that already, didn’t you?

[solspina]

We Should Stick Together

sanguinius ⋆˙⟡

have a very small sangy blurb that is literally just me braindumping! not proofread and a little fulgrim x reader if you squint :)

sanguinius has very clearly taken interest in someone, and fulgrim is quite tired of watching sanguinius collect offerings for his beloved rather than taking any productive action. through a little teasing and perhaps creating a lie great enough to form genuine jealousy, the phoenician can make something happen.

warnings: n/a

Fulgrim takes yet another sip of his 4th glass of wine, holding back a pout as he draws the glass away from his stained lips. To say he is bored - and also quite clueless - would be an understatement bordering insult. The wine he holds in his hand is absolutely delectable, a fine luxury piece from his own personal collection, smooth on the throat and incredibly enjoyable when not paired with second-hand embarrassment. He sighs as he notices his supply is dwindling rapidly, not feeling even the slightest bit drunk.

Throne, he should have brought something stronger.

"What do you think of these?" His white-winged brother shoved two sparkling stones into his hand, smiling like a childish idiot as he did so.

"They are.. nice..." Fulgrim claimed as he inspected them closely, attempting to hide his annoyance as he swept over the gems with violet eyes. "However, this one seems brittle, like it will crumble the moment it is grinded upon, and this one seems quite lackluster." His voice did not hide his disinterest in the subject, but he was at least honest.

"And what about the color? Do you think she will prefer quartz? Or perhaps red? Ah, but red makes it seem like it's about me..."

"Sanguinius..." Fulgrim whispered, trying to interrupt his brother, or at the very least return him to his senses before he went on yet another incoherent ramble about his potential courtier.

"And its about her, not me. I would hate to bring home something that is to her distaste. I don't wish to put her off, I think I've done well so far acquiring her interest, I really-"

"Sanguinius!" The Phoenician finally exclaimed in more of a yell than a speaking voice, his annoyance with his brother no longer confined behind a glass of chilled wine. He released the tension from his shoulders upon seeing the blond angel's wide, shocked eyes.

Taking in the final sip of his wine, he sighed yet again. "I don't think any number of my wives have had me in as much of a chokehold as this woman does you, brother. You are smitten, and hopelessly so."

Sanguinius' wings betrayed his feeble attempt at releasing his embarrassment. They fluttered at the mention of her, and so he turned away from Fulgrim, his cheeks dusted a light pink and a small amount of his feathers puffed up upon the top of both wings. A body language display familiar of most birds, but unfamiliar to the palatine phoenix. The angel's voice shook the very slightest as he attempted to maintain his composure.

"Hopeless, Fulgrim?" He paused, his shaking irises evident of trying to collect his thoughts. "Has she told you something she has not told me?"

Was there… anger? in his tone? Maybe it was jealousy fulgrim had heard, possessiveness even, he could not tell.

Regardless, this sort of reaction from the angel was something he had not heard from his perfect and composed brother before. A piece of him felt confused at the fact that his brother had become so quickly offended in regards to a mere human, and yet another piece felt curious, entertained by the possibility of whether or not he could strike a nerve within the brightest one.

Sanguinius saw a sinister smile creep across Fulgrim's perfect features. His shoulders raised at his brother's gentle laugh. "Defensive, are we, angel? Protective, perhaps?" The phonecian placed his wine glass down upon the rocks next to the two of them, taking note of Sanguinius' clenched fists and slightly narrowed eyes. He could tell the great angel was doing his best to mask his infamous inner wrath, but he simply couldn't at the mention of some mortal woman. "Worry not, I've already told myself that you would be the one marrying this one... Should you not take too long I would not make my move."

With a step toward Sanguinius, he moved closer, brushing a few strands of blond hair behind his brother's ear so that his whisper would fall directly on his ears "That being said, clock is ticking. Drop the stones you wish to bring her, take her your words instead… lest i take her my words first.”

The sound of ruffling feathers filled the air alongside a slight expression of jealousy from Sanguinius, brows downturned and eyes slightly squinted. “I know you only tease, Fulgrim."

"And if I don't?" The Phoenician replied, his tone simultaneously teasing and serious. He wished for nothing more than to confirm his suspicion, for the angel to fall from grace and admit the painfully obvious, that he was jealous.

"You best keep your hands off. It is I who loves her. It is I who will see to it that she marries me.”

Sanguinius would be lying if he said he was not slightly afraid of Fulgrim attempting his interest’s hand in marriage.

On one hand, the poor bachelorette had a winged mutant, a man with a pair of massive wings accompanied by two sharp canines and an insatiable thirst for blood buried deep within him.

On the other was a man who was perfect in every way. Silky, smooth, gorgeous white hair cascaded over his shoulders the same way his robes fit the contours of his slender body in a noble shade of purple. His face, in every way, was nothing short of youthful and beautiful and every positive word that a human could conjure from their lips.

In other words, if Fulgrim made it to her first, Sanguinius knew he would stand no chance.

…Would he?

Would she choose the man who had experience caring for women? Or the one who she would have to teach? Did she have the patience for him?

"Say it with your chest than, oh great angel."

"I love her…”

“Hmm…” Fulgrim smiled, aware that his dear angelic brother was completely lost in thought. He knew how to hit where it hurt, for no one could turn away from Fulrgim’s perfection.

He knew Sanguinius would doubt himself, and he knew that he had to force him to confess before he lost the confidence to do so.

Of course, Sanguinius was a mutant with fatal flaws, but just like Fulgrim did his hair flow off of his shoulders and down his back, framing his chiseled face like a golden halo as piercing amber eyes shone like the sands of Baal under its suns.

Fulgrim had witnessed the girl weaving small and intricate jewels into chains that would drape themselves beautifully over Sanguinius’ wings, if the two of them had just attempted to replace their distanced pining with the intimacy they both intensely longed for.

“What she told me was that she desired you just as much… But I told her your eyes were set on someone else.” He smiled deviously at his brother, watching his expression turn into one of horror as he realized Fulgrim had probably shattered her heart into shreds with his false news. “So she and I made a deal. If you confessed to her within the week, you could have her. But if you failed to…”

The Phoenician raised one of his hands, opening his palm to a ring made in approximately the size of a tiny human finger. Sanguinius’ expression filled with anger as he fought the urge to strangle his brother right then and there. His teeth were clinched together with enough force to shatter a diamond in two.

Fulgrim's smile spread completely across his face before he turned upon his heels, flicking a head full of white hair toward Sanguinius before he broke out into a full sprint for the imperial palace. "And who is it that will tell her the news, brother?!”

With a single thunderous beat, the angel shot into the air, his speed in flight incomprehensibly faster than Fulgrim was on foot.

He smiled once more, his winged brother gone in the blink of an eye. None of what he said had been true, of course, but he too enjoyed some lighthearted teasing every once in a while. The expression upon the face of the great angel had been priceless. How could one be so jealous over someone they were stuck longing for?

He hoped that the angel would return with positive news and without the urge to slap him, and that he would still be invited to the wedding.

[puranami]

✿ It's The Little Things ✿

A/N: My first time writing! Admittedly I'm very nervous, but also so excited!! Kept it simple with a small headcanon list to start, but I tried to write a decent amount for each point, and I hope that everyone is in character :0 Posting at 4am because I have no control over my life...

Summary: Little relationship things with the Strawhats. Can be interpreted as the anime/manga or the live action version of the character.

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Nami, Usopp, Sanji

Content: SFW, G/N reader, slightest hint of angst in Sanji's part, but otherwise, pure unadulterated fluff! ✿

(Part 2 - Buggy, Shanks, Mihawk) (Part 3 - Franky, Robin, Law, Kid, Killer) (Part 4 - Crocodile, Rosinante/Corazon, Doflamingo)

Luffy

✿ He absentmindedly draws shapes on your leg, back, or whatever part of you is there as you sit together, whether you are watching the waves, or listening to one of Usopp's stories. He is almost magnetic in the way he ends up attached to you. If you're not feeling it, he will do his best to keep his hands to himself, but as soon as his focus shifts onto anything else, they're back on you, drawing little clouds and hearts. He tried, he really did!

✿ This bottomless pit inhales food like it's going out of fashion, but, much to the bewilderment of the rest of the crew, he will actually feed you from his plate as he eats, even though you are eating your own food. It may be a case of "1 for you, 5 for me," but it's almost instinctive for him; he's sharing something he's passionate about with you, and making sure that, in his eyes, you are happy, healthy and strong. He values your wellbeing more than food; you are one of the most important things in his life.

✿ Despite how chaotic he is in every aspect of his life, his presence brings you to a state of complete peace, even when he's yelling about whatever currently has his attention. Just knowing he is there comforts you in a way that nothing, and no one else can. As long as Luffy is there, being the same old Luffy he always is, you know everything will be alright in the end, and if it isn't alright, well, it isn't the end yet.

Zoro

✿ He always places a comforting hand on your head when he passes by, or ends up in the same general space as you. It's his version of a hug, a reassuring touch that he is there, and that he's happy to see you. Zoro is very subtle with his affection, at least in public, but even when it's just the two of you, he automatically defaults to the head pat. It comforts him as much as it does you, and the simple action alone conveys his feelings far better than he ever could with words.

✿ You both love silently observing everything going on around you, and it's such a comfortable silence. You just enjoy each others company while watching the world go by, with Zoro also keeping an eye out for any threats, as he does. Sometimes you end up passing silent judgement on what you see, and you have both developed this uncanny ability to gossip without saying a single word. It's honestly unnerving at times, but you are just so familiar with each others micro-expressions that it's second nature.

✿ Insults are terms of endearment. If anyone else called either of you such things, all hell would break loose - swords drawn, blood spilt, bodies hit the floor, the whole song and dance. It actually started out as a form of deflection, with both of you being far too stubborn to admit any feelings were there, even to yourselves; "No, I don't like you, shitstain, I tolerate you." - "Whatever helps you sleep at night, arseface." As you connected though, it just became your thing, and you love seeing who can come up with the funniest insults. Zoro is surprisingly creative in this regard.

Nami

✿ Nami has a habit of fixing your clothes and hair if something is out of place. It can seem overbearing to others, but she knows you appreciate the gesture. She spent years putting up walls to defend herself, and this is a safe way for her to have a little moment alone with you, giving you gentle little touches without revealing to the world just how important you are to her. It is a very grounding experience for both of you, and you end up doing the same for her on the rare occasion that she isn't completely flawless. She may purposely put things out of place so you have the opportunity to fix something too.

✿ She has an eye for the finer things, and loves getting you little trinkets, and especially pieces of jewellery, which often match or pair with hers, like pendants that fit together to make a whole shape, and such. Just don't ask her where she got them; "Shhh, you don't need to worry about that." All that matters is that you now have a tangible connection to each other, no matter how close, or far apart you are.

✿ Another person who relishes in comfortable silence. Of course you love chatting with each other, and often do so later into the night than you intended. Nami is very quick-witted and your shared snark is always so enjoyable! But it's the moments when you are doing your own thing together, basking in the warmth of that closeness that brings the most joy. Every so often, you will share something interesting or amusing, depending on what you're doing, but you always return to that silence. It's very domestic.

Usopp

✿ You both end up in regular fits of giggles, that grow into raucous laughter, before devolving into the sounds of various suffocating wildlife, which only fuels the hilarious fire. He doesn't even have to say anything at times; he just has a look, and as soon as he catches your eye with it, you absolutely lose it. The amount of nonsensical inside jokes you have is absurd in itself.

✿ Ever the storyteller, Usopp will wind down the day with you relaxing under the stars, telling you fantastical stories about the impossible feats of the great 'Captain Usopp.' His creativity and imagination are something you greatly admire, and as much as you try to stay awake to appreciate those qualities, the comfort he brings has you dropping off every time. He'll carry you to bed most nights, but sometimes he can only manage to drag you around like a corpse he's trying to hide, and he'll end up waking you up laughing about it.

✿ You automatically link your little fingers whenever you are close enough to. It doesn't even register half of the time, only realising when you need that hand or try to go your separate ways. When this happens, providing there isn't anything that needs your urgent attention, you like to dramatize your parting, playing up that this is the most painful moment of your lives! "Don't you dare let go, Usopp! We can both make it out of this alive!" - "I'm so sorry, I can't hold on any longer, and I refuse to drag you down with me." - "No! Don't say that!" - "I love you so much, but you need to let me go..." Leading to you unlinking your fingers, and exaggerated fake cries of anguish. It annoys everyone around you immensely.

Sanji

✿ You shamelessly flirt with each other, making everyone around you uncomfortable, groaning at how painful it is. You weren't together when you started playing this romantic game of chicken, giving back everything Sanji threw at you, and then some, but once you figured your feelings out, you actually developed it into a legitimate game where you attempt to be as sickening and obnoxious as possible. If there is no one grimacing, angrily telling you both to pack it in, or simply leaving the room; you aren't flirting enough. There is a points system, and you're currently in the lead. Sanji ends up caving over the things you say, and his brain loses the ability to form words, let alone string them together in a coherent sentence.

✿ Sanji always leaves a drink and a bite to eat for you to wake up to, since he isn't there in person, having to wake up much earlier to prepare the food for the day. Growing up in a restaurant, early starts are just part of his natural rhythm, so it doesn't bother him, but sometimes you try to wake up with him to at least watch the sunrise together, before going back to bed for a couple more hours. He cherishes those mornings, and there is always an extra spring in his step on those days.

✿ He takes every opportunity he can to share a glance and a warm smile, a gentle touch of your hands, or a chaste kiss with you. They are agonisingly brief moments, but Sanji needs them to get him through the day, otherwise he would just cling to you, and neither of you would get anything done! Unknown to you, these moments are also his way of reminding himself that you chose him over everyone else, that he is loved unconditionally, and that he is enough, without having to, in his opinion, burden you with his insecurities. He'll open up to you one day, and you will be able to give him verbal affirmations along with everything else~

[henneseyhoe]

All In A Day’s Work

Lewis Hamilton x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS:This Headcanon Is Nasty…I Mean Disgusting. Mean!Lewis(No seriously..he’s an asshole till like… the end lmfao), Mentor/Boss!Lewis, Dark!Lewis, Protege!Reader, Insults, Almost A Yandere!Lewis Undertone(I can’t help myself), Lewis Being A Perv, Cockwarming Orally, Spit, Power Imbalance, Dumbification(Kinda?), Pet Names (Baby, Doll, Princess, Slut), Age Gap Unspecified(21+), Public Sex (Kinda), Stalking (Mild), Dirty talk, Gagging, Brief Mention Of Anal, Reader Is Kinda Naive, Probs More Idk.

SUMMARY: They say never meet your idols..

✮✮✮✮

Mentor/Boss!lewis, who quite literally hated you.

He hated your work. He hated the way you worked. He hated your ideas. He hated the way you dressed too. How could you be in the fashion industry dressing like that, and who the hell did you think you were?

You, who looked up to him. You studied his style and cadence, he was your inspiration that kept you intrigued with art and fashion. There wasn’t a piece you have made that you didn’t imagine him praising you for, clapping from an audience of fellow famous designers as you win an award for pieces you made all by yourself. You dreamed so, so big.

Once a confident art school student who recently graduated turned a quiet, delicate thing in his presence. You needed to be that way. If you made yourself smaller, maybe he wouldn’t seek to bother you like he did daily.

It wasn’t just your liking for him and his work that made it hard to be around him, he made it his mission to make everything 10x more insufferable.

You didn’t even know why he hired you, really. There were rumors that he purposely never hired fans, stating that their inspiration from him would blind them from using their own creativity, and you made it very obvious in your interview that you were nothing short of star struck. But, the job was yours on the spot, approved and stamped by Lewis himself.

Your excitement coursed through your veins, hungry for the ideas and tips he’d give you along the way.

Sadly, you were paid just about what dust was worth. As soon as you began working It seemed you were just there to be his punching bag, something he could take his anger out on when someone, or you, most likely you, pissed him off.

Boss!Lewis, who purposely overworked you, making you type up drafts for his articles just as he came up with it in real time. You wanted desperately to make him proud, so you listened to each syllable of each word, each well calculated, evil, full of venom sentence that could end someone’s career that poured into your ears. You pay attention closely as you type, because he himself remembered everything he said, and if anything was out of place or missing from his rant, then he’d be more than pissed.

“This is all you heard? Have your ears somehow popped off your head and walked out of the building?…You wasted my time, and yours. Get out”

He’d say as he shoved the papers back into your hands, still warm from the printer. Did he even give time to actually check if they were right?

Your palms turned white with how hard you clutched the papers in your hands as you walked out, heels stabbing the marble floor with every step you took. He enjoyed seeing your display of emotion whenever he corrected you. This would toughen you up. Maybe even teach you to do things right next time.

Your ears felt hot with both embarrassment and frustration nearly every time he spoke to you. You thought working for your hero would be fun and empowering, but day by day you were proved wrong. How could someone so humble and kind on screen be so cruel to such a sweet girl like you? You were only trying..

Still, you tried harder to gain his respect by working more than you ever had, sewing till your fingers bled, drawing up new designs for him to see that you were getting better, bringing him sweet treats when you could to get even the smallest of thank yous, but again, he wasn’t too fond of your work, or you.

And god forbid you propose the possibility that maybe he was the one that was wrong, he made the mistake and you just made the mistake of following his every word and direction.

Leaning over his desk, you present to him the digital catalog for this year's spring, items of different kinds of clothing littering your computer screen as you click each one individually until he tells you to move on.

“Stop” Lewis points to a picture to halt your scrolling, your heart skipping a beat as you think, ‘Fuck…now what?’

He tsks.

“This suit is from last summer. I specifically told you last year seasons go into an archive, these are not average pieces people can just buy”

You squint, your eyes glazing the screen. “But I didn’t hear- You didn’t say that at all”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

He turned to you in his office chair and closed your laptop down, his head tilted in question. You couldn’t even look straight into his eyes to answer, it was like you saw all the souls he captured day to day screaming for mercy inside of them.

Before you could even fully get a word out he was already giving you your second warning that day.

“I suggest you watch the way you speak to me”

You did so, limiting your criticism to none. You desperately needed to keep this job, the clout, and the money from it. You knew your ideas were good, you just needed Lewis to see that. You needed a little boost, and Lewis was well aware that you couldn’t afford to lose anything you gained this year, seeing as it took you an entire one to find a company like this to take you seriously, having the honor to work as close as you do with one of Europe’s top designers. One day you hoped to be one just like him.

The company had many young workers, some directly hired by Lewis himself just like you, many with the same plans as you to become some big designer or director in the city. Some are not as hardworking as you, so you wondered why Lewis wasted time bullying you instead.

You complain to your coworkers often, thinking you’ve found some kind of friend, but are quickly corrected when you find out someone’s been snitching about what you’ve been saying about your boss around the office..

Lewis towered over you as you sat in a chair facing his desk, hands fiddling in your lap with your head hanging low in shame. This wasn’t the first time you’ve been embarrassed in this very office, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last.

“If you spent half as much time actually doing what I tell you to do instead of wasting your energy bad mouthing me around the building, maybe you wouldn’t have to be a fucking assistant anymore” He chuckled as he flipped through a catalog of unreleased designs while pacing the floor in front of you. The tapping of his shoes synced with the hard thump of your heart, every ‘clack’ leading a loud ‘lub-dub’ that you swore everyone in the room could hear.

Stopping in his tracks, he sighs and shakes his head, neat braids that framed his face swaying with the movement. He often faked his pity, you learned that early on. He cared none if you were struggling for whatever reason, in his head you either pull yourself up by your bootstraps or sit and suffer.

“If you can’t take the little shit I give you, then how do you expect to get anywhere in life, princess? Pretty faces can only get you so far, especially when you piss off important people before you even become somebody“

You keep your head down, careful to not make the mistake of shrugging at his question like the first time he had ever asked you anything you didn’t know the answer to.

“Wow..And you’re fired”

You look up from your sweating hands, your heart skipping beats when you realize he was talking to the woman behind you.

“What? Me? But-” Her stuttering clearly didn’t help her case as she tried to find the right excuses to keep her position as head director, which would eventually become vacant regardless. Lewis spared her a glare, but it was more of a warning for her to suck it up. He hated seeing people cry.

“No one likes a snitch”

You exited that room that day with a thankfulness not even gospel could pull from you. You kept your job and your spot next to him. Dignity and pride was in question, but at least you weren’t jobless.

The next week, you focused more on yourself. You wore your own designs, hoping to catch some kind of compliments, and you did! Just not from Lewis. It was already known that Lewis hated your style, but you could at least say it wasn’t as bad as his last assistant, whom he told you dressed like, and I quote, he “walked into the closet every morning with his eyes closed and his hands tied behind his back with only his mouth as an option to pick up the items to wear”...

You tried your best to dress to his liking and incorporate his style into your designs while also keeping your signatures. You spent your nights reading magazines he did interviews for to pick up on what he was feeling was in this year, but it wasn’t easy when he was so picky.

“Is that rose gold?”

“Where?.. On my watch?”

Lewis stayed silent, his eyes scanning you fully before he spoke again.

“No, on the floor” He said with sarcasm plaguing his voice, making you raise a brow.

“Take the jewelry off. It looks tarnished”

He nearly swooped you up just then to get something that actually matched your skin tone, but that’d be him just stealing company time for something more..personal.

Boss!Lewis, who soon got tired of your poor attempts at outfits and began to dress you in things he thought were good looking, giving you a box of expensive new outfits at the end of the work day, each labeled for which days you’d wear them. He even invited you over to his for a few “required” trials. Y’know, just to see how good the tailoring was.

And you were ecstatic about it. You, in YOUR idols house, getting adorned in expensive clothing you only dreamed about. It made up for everything he said to you that week to make you upset.

He took you into his very own study and told you what colors look best on you in each season of the year, gave you advice on what jewelry made you glow and the places you should put them depending on the cut of your clothes, he measured your waist, arms, legs, bust, everything, and told you what would go with your body type. Though you wished he could turn the heat up as he did so, you were starting to get a little cold in just your bra and underwear..

“Look at that…it fits you so much better than what you’re usually in”

He’d turn you to a mirror as you tried to lower the mini skirt you wore, attempting to cover more than just the cup of your ass. You could nearly feel a breeze every time he passed you by to get a look from different positions.

Apparently his favorite was from the back.

“You won’t be wearing anything I didn’t put you in from now on. Think of it like a work uniform, since you dress like the world outside is blind. Now, gimme a spin, doll”

Your new look caught the attention of other designers. Some loved the bold look, seeing it as a statement, like how fashion should be these days. They applaud you for testing out the boundaries and limits of a workplace. How professional could you be with your skirt riding up? Others were confused on why your style did an entire 180, and why they could see the valley of your breasts now.

Your answer was simple. Evolution is how the world stays afloat. If you don’t change in time and willingly, the world around you will force you to before you’re ready. Lewis told you that.

Boss!Lewis, who wished he did this so much sooner. His very own life size Barbie he could dress up and down any way he wanted. It was just an extra perk to being able to say anything to you and you still coming into work the next day.

You were beautiful before, he never denied that, all his insults were technically on your intelligence. Nonetheless, he believed he outdid himself with this idea, he could truly see your potential now. Everything you put on brought out your features so much more, it was almost dramatic, and you were starting to truly live up to the nickname he gave you. Now he wanted to know if you were just as flexible as any other doll..

Boss!Lewis, who couldn't get enough of looking at you. It was never an innocent attraction, it was never about wanting to help a protege, this was all for him and him only, the fashion industry be damned. He didn’t care about introducing you to a world of anything as soon as he got half of your clothes off.

The amount of times he was imagining fucking you in front of everybody should have been illegal. He even debated fucking you in his study when he invited you over, watching you drool dumbly with a tiny dress hanging halfway off of your waist. Your very own icon using you for what you were worth. He was already imagining things before, but the daydreams were starting to prohibit him from his duties of CEO.

He had to do something. Fucking his hand in the privacy of his office wasn’t gonna suffice forever.

Boss!Lewis, who went to bed at night thinking of you. Thinking of the ways he could bend you, how many times he could make you cum in one round. When he was with you he pondered on what kind of panties you were wearing. Were they black? Pink, maybe? Did they have a cute little bow on the front like they did when he dressed you? Were they lace and see through? So see through that he could bend you over his desk and spread your ass with his hands to see the pink peeking from behind your brown lips. God, he wanted you so fucking bad from the start.

Boss!Lewis, who started to become irrational. Wondering where you went after work, if you had anyone else to see. God knows what Lewis would do to him, or get done to him. He even followed you sometimes when he couldn’t take the wondering, you were absolutely oblivious to the Ferrari behind you at every stop.

Boss!Lewis, who didn’t need to see where your house was, you worked for him, so of course he had your address, but he needed to see what routes you took. How long would it take you to get there after he snuck into your bottom floor apartment and stole a pair of your underwear after snooping through your things, carefully placing them back where they belonged before snapping a picture or two. Money took him a long way as he bribed the security with a few bills to ensure he wouldn’t speak a word of his visit. Of course the dumb fuck agreed.

You notice your underwear going missing, but you pass it off as just misplacing them in all the other clothes that were being delivered from Lewis.

You also noticed how close Lewis was becoming, but that just made you giddy. Someone you still adored as an artist finally warming up to you.. And as a boss, he had to watch you for reasons, right?

From the time you got to work and clocked in from the time you left, he was watching from his office, glass windows so clear that you could see the condensation from his breath on it as he looked down upon his workers. When you left, his curtains were immediately pulled close.

“He’s just being a boss” “He’s always like that, right?” “Don’t think too much, this is your dream, You’ll ruin your chances with him” Your friends would say when you confided in them about the constant watching, but they didn’t understand that he wasn’t watching everyone, he was watching you. You weren’t sure you understood that he was just watching you either.

Time passed and now he didn’t just watch. He visibly followed. He touched. Brushing a singular finger up your bare arm as you worked aside him, the silver ring on his finger sent shivers straight up your spine and electricity to your core. That jump started a second heartbeat that wouldn’t settle till you walked away from him.

Boss!Lewis, who was unashamed, barely hiding the lingering stares or brushing.

“Sir?”

You’d dare to speak as he pressed himself up against your ass. It wasn’t firm, but just enough for you to feel him. Your hands were unable to move to continue writing up a list of fabrics he needed for later that week. You became aware of everything around you. The ticking of the clock on the wall was loud, the cold wood of his desk pressing on your forearms as you wrote was noticeable.

“Keep going”

He nudged with a hand on your hip as you let out a shaky breath. It was hard to work like this, you could barely believe it was happening where it was, with whom it was.

He thought you sucked at your job before, you could be no better now with him breathing down your neck, grabbing at your curves and using the excuse of just trying to feel the fabric of your clothes.

“Silk?” He asked, his hand growing dangerously close up your thighs from the rim of your dress.

Your breathing hitched, your hand hesitantly swiping his off of your thigh before you nod, trying to distract yourself from the intense staring by grabbing the nearest needle and thread, pretending to touch up a bralette in front of you that was basically already done.

Lewis smiles.

Boss!Lewis, who hadn’t gotten any better with distractions since testing his limits with you for months now. Watching you squirm, anticipating what was next was so much more satisfying than designing these days. But you? You had no room to slack.

He’d call you in his office just to watch you work, then complain about not getting enough done.

Just under your breath, you’d make smart comments to release yourself from some of the stress of the day, unable to hear his complaining for hours without a word for yourself like you used to. You didn’t say it to his face exactly, but he’d be near, his cursing prompting you to speak. You weren’t the girl you were a few months ago, the less he criticized you, the more you expressed yourself outwardly. You knew him, and he was all talk for the most part, you felt you deserved to say at least one thing even if only you knew what was said.

“Maybe if you did your job instead of looking up my skirt all day, damn perv…”

He heard you. He heard everything, remember?

“Perv?”

Perv? No, No, No. Lewis couldn’t let that slide. He wasn’t the one that was being weird, it was you. Sure, he made you dress a certain way, but it was your fault you looked like that. He was not. a fucking. pervert..Fuck.

Boss!Lewis, who made use of your mouth that had started to get smarter and bolder towards him the longer you worked for him. He kept you on your knees, under his desk with his dick stuffed in your mouth. Your jaw ached, and every time you made it known, he’d shove you down further, more spit trailing down your chin. He didn’t care if anyone knocked, or walked in. To them, it was none of their business, too scared to even mention the red bottoms slightly sticking from underneath the desk or the abrupt choking sound they’d hear in the middle of their conversation.

It just made Lewis even harder that they knew something was up. But no one was bold enough to speak up about it, scared they’d get blackballed from the industry they so desperately wanted to be in. If Lewis said they weren’t to be worked with ever…they won’t be.

After he allowed you to stand, your makeup had already smudged off, kisses trailing down his abs and a red print of your lips stained around the base of his dick so perfectly, that he took a picture of it when he went home that night and sent it to you straight from his own business number, his unbuttoned work shirt, abs and tattoos in shot and all.

You gasp when you opened it, your phone flying from your hand to the carpeted floor. You hadn’t even recovered from the events, and here he was reminding you that it definitely did happen.

‘This would be a great new tattoo, yeah? XX.

-Sir. L’

Boss!Lewis, who finally got the excuse he needed to do whatever he wanted to you. Why didn’t he just start spanking you from the beginning? Would have been easier than yelling at you, you probably would have let him so easily. All he had to tell you was it was a crucial part of discipline, of becoming your true artistic self. You would have been putty.

Boss!Lewis, who wanted to leave your panties soaked with his cum leaking out of you almost every late work night. So he did. You wouldn’t work overtime if you didn’t want that, obviously.

With every step you felt your lips glide together, making the mess so much worse. Your coworker asks why you’re walking weird the next morning, you say you sprained your ankle in your heels, but you’re fine. If they knew it was really all because your boss was creampie-ing you at nearly 2 in the morning, you’d be shamed out of the building. Climbing the ladder by sleeping with the CEO? How whorish of you.

Unfortunately, your little sessions with your beloved mentor weren’t making your days easier. How could you work properly with your panties soaked with your own arousal? Sloppy work made you upset, but so did unresolved cravings.

Boss!Lewis, who made you ride him while writing up notes as a punishment now. There was no excuse for mistakes. You had all the time you needed to double check.

“Spread your legs. Good girl. Keep going”

You complained with a whine and spread your legs further across his while continuing to bounce on him. Your thighs were burning like you had just done three sets of squats back to back, you were sweating, and the seat below you two was no dryer. Your handwriting was fucked, you couldn’t read a word back to yourself, but if you stopped, you didn’t know what he’d do next.

He caressed your back softly as you work your hips down on him, the clap of your ass against his pelvis bringing a smile to his face.

“Oh, baby…you better hope I can understand whatever’s on that paper”

Boss!Lewis, who gave you new strict rules on not talking to any male workers. It didn’t matter if they spoke to you first, you walked right by without a word, your eyes glancing upwards and spotting a familiar dark figure watching from your boss’s office.

You now had to cover up more, afraid anyone would see the hickeys that would magically appear on your neck whenever you’d leave Lewis’s office.

If the turtlenecks wasn’t a telling sign of what was going on, the sound of your voice coming out of the room sure would have been.

He began gagging you with your own thong, shoving it into your mouth as he slipped his fingers inside of you, his rings and tattoos coated with a thin layer of your cum. He licked up your neck, flicking his tongue over the darkening bruises as his fingers slid in knuckles deep.

“Be a good little slut and cum for me, okay? Can you do that for me, baby?”

You squealed into the cotton fabric in your mouth and threw your head back, your bangs falling out of your face as his fingers simultaneously pressed against your spot until your pussy was squirting like a fountain, wetting his rolled up sleeve.

That happened twice more. Eventually, he couldn’t shut you up with just a gag, but his fingers down your throat made the perfect replacement.

“You got the new designs all wet. I suggest you restart on these as soon as you get home, okay?”

12 hours wasn’t nearly enough time for you to get those sketches done, but you did it anyway, thanks to coffee and binge worthy shows.

You did so good, this was just another excuse for him to be able to finish inside you again, a hand wrapped around your throat to keep you still in the small office chair as he sung your praises about how much you were growing under his teachings.

He’d caress your face sweetly before sliding his thumb into your mouth, watching you suck on command. He loved the way you did as you were told without question.

“My pretty baby. You take it so well”

So proud you didn’t even need prepping from his fingers this time, your pussy greedily swallowed his dick and allowed him to fuck the way he wanted to. Feverishly. Every touch from him so fucking needy that he could just bite you. Your ass would be next, the size of him deliciously stretching you out with the help of your own slick and his spit as lubricant.

Maybe this little exchange was making you better as an artist. It seemed so. The insults were coming less and less, your designs were getting accepted more and more.

Boss!Lewis, who took you out to celebrate your growth, gifting you a ring with a tiny L carved on the inside of it and red bottom shoes that would stun the office. He treated you with the utmost respect with the paparazzi watching, making sure the image was nothing more than him going out to eat with one of his protégés innocently tagging along. Then, he took you back to his place and fucked you like a slut.

Your mouth was left open so wide you were convinced it would eventually lock in place like that. He didn’t even let you make it to the bed, the floor and your arched back was all he needed to get as deep as he wanted inside of you. You could scream all you wanted there. You were sure his maids got the hint to stay away from the foyer by now.

After he finished using you how he wanted, stuffing you full with his cum until he was perfectly satisfied, he’d kiss you on your forehead as if nothing had happened and you’d thank him. For tonight, and all your opportunities.

“I think someone deserves a promotion now”

Finally, you were where you needed to be.

✮✮✮✮

💌— I really hope yall liked this cause I cannot get Boss!Lewis off of my fucking mind 😭 I need him so bad yall like I literally had to FORCE myself to stop writing more smut in this 💔💔💔💔

[kittysarchive]

Toxicity

warnings- toxic relationship, smut, head cannons, teasing, insults, dom enhypen, jealous enhypen, manipulative enhypen, crappy boyfriends,smut, mostly mean or hard dom enhypen

Heeseung

Heeseung’s toxic trait would be his ability to twist situations to make you feel guilty, even if he’s the one at fault.

He overthinks everything, making you feel like every little thing you do is under scrutiny.

If he’s in a bad mood, he’ll shut you out completely, leaving you guessing what went wrong.

When it comes to him in bed all of these traits merge together

If he cums to early, your fault

If your too quiet, are you cheating! You not cumming tonight

He'll even be quiet in bed, making you think that he should be the one getting the pleasure.

smut-

There were tears in your eyes. Through the loud sound of skin lapping and heeseungs own mumbles, you didn't want to make a sound, you didn't want to disrupt his pleasure.

And so he kept thrusting hard while painfully gripping onto your tours, squeezing them until they were people. What did you actually do to get here?

"do you wanna apologize" Heeseung grunts above you,not once slowing his pace.

"f-for what?" Heeseung quickly pulls out, his delusions tired I you lying. But what had you done? Was saying hello the male barista bad? You were just being polite. Heeseung sighs, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

"you know what,you always go around trying to cheat or create a fling behind my back" he grips you legs harshly, pulling them towards you to create a mating press.

"but I always gotta fuck the sense back into my slut' a continues now gripping his cock, waiting for your apology.

"I'm sorry....I won't do it again" you say through pain, this position was uncomfortable, it was burning your legs but saying that would just make him upset, again.

Seeming content, Heeseung opens the draw beside the bed, pulling out the lube. Your skin goes cold as he squeezes it out onto his fingers. Feeling the cold slime on your ass, you knew it was going to be a painful night.

Jay

Jay could be the type of toxic boyfriend who’s overly possessive and jealous,

constantly questioning who you’re talking to and where you’ve been. He’d act like it’s because he “cares too much,” but it would start to feel suffocating.

When angry, he might lash out with harsh words, but he’d always try to win you back with grand gestures every single time.

smut-

Your legs are pulled against you like a mating press, you've gotten used to the pain since this was one of the very limited positions he knew about it at least liked.

"fucking slut, your my girl" he rams his cock into you. Yeah maybe you shouldn't have tried to make small talk while at the bus stop.

"did you want to go home with him huh? Or did you want me to fuck you on the bench right next to him, slut" Jay laughs as if it's some inside joke. You keep quiet, muttering the occasional sorry while teary eyed.

"you see there" he's almost talking to himself as he sees the bulge in your stomach.

"I did that, he couldn't" he presses down on the bulge, groaning at how it feels. A moan slips out of you when he presses down.

"yeah I know my girl well".

Jake

Jake would be the charming toxic boyfriend who knows exactly how to make you forgive him, even when he’s clearly in the wrong.

He’d use his sweetness and affectionate side to manipulate you into thinking you’re overreacting.

If you caught him lying, he’d flip the script and make you feel guilty for doubting him.

smut-

"C'mon baby, if I was cheating I wouldn't enjoy this so much" he says pulling his mouth away from your pussy. You had caught him sending nudes to a random girl online and here he was gas lighting you.

His mouth returns to your pussy, latching onto your clit. His tongue swirls along your clit making you squirm. You couldn't stay mad at him forever though, not when you get this nearly every day.

His hands spread your thighs apart, affectingly rubbing them as his mouth continue to slurp you clean. Pulling away for a second time, he brings out his puppy's eyes.

"So do you forgive me babe?" he says, his chin dripping with your juices, you nod your head, and he dives back down before saying, "You know I love you, stop making up these delusions"

Sunghoon

Sunghoon’s toxic behaviour would come from his tendency to be emotionally unavailable.

He’d avoid deep conversations or confrontation, leaving you feeling like your emotions don’t matter.

When upset, he’d give you the silent treatment, making you feel ignored and unimportant.

smut-

Licking another stripe along his cock, he still ignores you, scrolling on his phone while you on your knees, sucking him off. It always ends this way.

You give his head kitten licks while you fondle his balls, just what he likes. His cocks hard, red and an evident vein bulging on the side of his cock, but this is as much attention as you get from him. Clearly the kitten licks and teasing weren't working. Taking a breath, you place your mouth onto his cock, you lean your head down trying to fit as much of his length into your mouth.

Nearly gagging over him, you continue to suck. A minute goes by of him still ignoring you, still scrolling on his dam phone. You pull yourself off his cock.

"I'm sorry.... for whatever I did.... I was dumb" You break the silence. Sunghoon scoffs at you, finally putting his phone to the side, giving you the attention you weren't.

"You fucking embarrassed me in front of my friends, you better be sorry" Sunghoon grips onto your hair, pulling your mouth back onto his cock, he didn't want to hear another word from you.

Sunoo

Sunoo’s toxic trait would be his passive-aggressive nature.

He’d drop subtle cutting comments about your choices or appearance, masking them as “jokes.”

When he’s upset, he’d pretend everything’s fine but act cold and distant, making you feel like you have to figure out what’s wrong.

smut-

Lying on his back, he made you do all the work. Already tired from another dumb and pointless argument, you were now 'apologising'.

Rolling your hips over your cock, Sunoo seemed almost bored underneath you, but you wouldn't fully know since you chose to turn away from him, you didn't want to see whatever scowl he was holding.

Lightly bouncing on your cock, usually you didn't see say you were tired, Sunoo would just start thrusting his hips up, giving you a break. But moments like this weren't rare, usually it'd end up with you getting tired, and Sunoo getting mad, that you couldn't even finish him off. So, you pull of his cock and sit between his legs.

"Giving up?" He almost laughs.

"No" you say, placing your mouth onto his cock, sucking slightly.

"Always finding the easy way out" he insults, leaning further back into the pillow, actually enjoying himself.

Jungwon

Jungwon’s toxic side would stem from his perfectionist tendencies.

He’d want things done his way and might criticize you if you don’t meet his high expectations.

His controlling behaviour would make you feel like you’re constantly walking on eggshells, trying not to disappoint him.

smut-

Your on your all fours, doggy style while he rams into your pussy from behind. This was purely for him, he didn't want to see your face know, he just wanted to cum. Being with him really felt like a cum slut sometimes.

You hold back your moans because you couldn't deny, he was a good fuck.

"Thats it, stay fucking still" He groans behind you, spreading your ass cheeks so he can go deeper, and you felt him deep. A moan slips out of you.

"Jeez, do I need to invest in a gag or duct tape? I said be fucking still and quiet and you can't even do one of them" He sends a slap to your ass; a mix of a cry and moan falls out of you. You hear his laugh behind you.

You were glad he couldn't see you, even with him ramming his cock into your pussy and squeezing you ass, you still felt embarrassed, you were literally being used,

NIKI

Niki would be the type of toxic boyfriend who’s hot and cold.

One moment, he’s super sweet and affectionate, and the next, he’s distant and uninterested.

He’d enjoy keeping you guessing about his true feelings, using your confusion as a way to maintain control.

smut-

"You always using me huh? Can't even use your own fingers to get off" He harshly puts two of his fingers inside your already wet pussy. Curling them inside you, your cry out in pleasure.

"Thats right, you're just a dumb bunny, you're practically fucking yourself on my fingers" He comments with a laugh. He wasn't lying, you were rolling your hips on his fingers, trying to gain more friction and he curled them against your gummy walls.

"You're nothing without me" Niki sighs, sugar coating his insult, as he brings his other hand to rub your clit.

[rageserenity]

It's 2024. Are you still thinking about movieverse!Cherik? Because I am.

For the past several months, there's only been a very slow trickle of posts/fics in the xmcu cherik tag. Let's try to breathe some life back into this incredible pairing!

With one clear winner of my poll, here's thirty prompts for the thirty days of April. (This is a super chill, laid-back event---do these in any order, interpret them as loosely as you like! Create in any medium! Fic, art, gifs, meta, incoherent screaming about the otp…all winners in my book.)

The only rule here is to cherik too close to the sun. Alright. Here are the prompts.

Mutual Pining

Doesn't really even need elaboration! Write that horrifically slow slow-burn. Gif every time McAvoy made insane fuck me eyes on screen. Make a playlist of songs about impossible love.

2. Alternate Meetings

There are endless quotes about how these two complete each other in a way no one they'd met before or after ever did. How else could they have met?

3. Erik Has A Telepathy Kink

This is basically canon. Let my boy get freaky!

4. Canon Fix-It

All the times Fox fucked it up. There are endless options.

5. Hurt/Comfort

Put them in that Situation. Put them in that Blender. Break them apart and put them back together ❤️‍🩹

6. Canon Compliant

Draw that missing scene! Gif your favourite cherik moment!

7. Beach Divorce

Make it worse. Make it better. Show it to us exactly how it was. Break it down in a 3,000 word meta. Go wild!

8. Domestics

Sometimes you just want to see them doing normal couple things. Erik put the gun down.

9. Found Family

The real heart of x-men!

10. Time Travel

There are SO many possibilities here. Stick them in a time loop. Give them a chance to change their past.

11. AU

Love a good AU!

12. There Is Only One Bed

Had to get this one in here. What better way to amp up the tension?

13. Genosha

By some miracle, cherik actually did end up together at the end of 2019s trash bag disaster Dark Phoenix. We aren’t making a big enough deal about this.

14. Declaration(s) of Love

Who says it first? How do they say it and when? Have they said it…without saying it?

15. Jealousy

Need I say more.

16. Reunion

These two have absolutely no chill.

17. Soulmates

Classic prompt, had to get this in here too.

18. The DOFP Aircraft

The TENSION here. Break it down for me. How does Charles feel about his injury? How does Erik feel about his injury?

19. Gay Mutant Road Trip

You already know.

20. Body Swap

SO fun when people have superpowers.

21. First Kiss

When? How? Who initiated it?

22. The Mansion

Mansion!content is a genre of its own.

23. Conflicting Ideology

Give me your theses. Who’s right? Can they ever reconcile completely? Write a fic where it drives them apart.

24. Sebastian Shaw

A trope unto himself.

25. Team As Matchmaker

They had to have known something was going on, didn’t they?

26. Cooking

Charles deserves a good meal. Also, imagine Erik using his powers in the kitchen. The sheer domesticity…

27. Hurt No Comfort

Plenty of scope with these two 🥲

28. Growing Old Together

Giving Sirs Ian Mckellan and Patrick Stewart their props as well!

29. Making Up

*pushes chess board across the table* sorry babe

30. Charles Xavier Did More For Mutants Than You'll Ever Know

Rising to each other’s defense. Only I can insult this man.

I will be tracking #revivecherik to reblog stuff! Here’s a fic collection for the same. Let’s get this ball rolling! Please feel free to send me an ask if you’ve got anything to say! And most importantly, let’s all have fun 😁

*I know a few of you preferred something like a gift exchange because of the commitment factor—I’m super down to organise a tiny one for the handful of us! If this promptathon doesn’t flop horribly, we can hopefully do a whole bunch of stuff :)

If you read this post all the way through, please reblog for reach! Thank you! Hoping you participate come April.

Shoutout to @inmymagnetoera for reaching out and helping with this!

[haveihitanerve]

Thought about Bruce calling Jason different variations of 'My __ little boy' (eg. 'My nerdy little boy', 'My mean little boy', 'My lovely little boy') And each time Jason is just like "Dad, it's only a 2 inch difference, I ain't little."

Even better if this isn't him saying it as Brucie, but as Bruce Wayne who just loves his little gremlin of a child even if he is an adult now.

The first time Bruce did it, Jason almost cried. They were at a Wayne Gala, and Bruce was leading him around, because he didn't trust anyone alone with his child want Jason running away, when they met a lovely old lady, a sweetheart, different to most Gotham Elite.

"Well, isn't he just darling." She cooed, and Bruce grew an actual smile, bending to kiss her hand.

"Mrs. Kershaw, a pleasure, as always. You look radiant. Also as always." He winked, and the woman, Mrs. Kershaw, laughed, blushing, as she pushed his shoulder teasingly.

"Och you, always knows just what to say." Jason pulled a face, but he couldn't deny it was nice to meet someone in Gotham at a Wayne event that Bruce actually liked. Mrs. Kershaw turned to Jason, bending so she was at eye level. A surprise, as most people took some sick pleasure in having height over him.

"Hello there dear, what's your name?" Jason offered a polite smile, waiting for the horrible pinching of his cheeks the older ladies seemed to be fond of.

"I'm Jason, ma'am."

"Jason Todd." Bruce added, and Jason shot him a confused look over his shoulder. When people, to be polite or something, asked his name, he always stuck to the first name, so that people didn't know he kept his own last name and wasn't a Wayne. Well, it was hyphenated, but that was a little too much.

But Mrs. Kershaw smiled, hands reaching dreadingly for Jason's cheeks. He tensed, but her hands were warm, and soft, and cradled his cheeks rather than pinched them. Like a mother. "You are such an angel, Jason Todd" She laughed, brushing his hair away from his face with a small smile.

"Putting up with Brucie all this time." Jason laughed, surprised that she was actually funny, and that she had insulted Bruce. To his face. But Bruce was grinning, seemingly pleased she liked him, and pleased he liked her, without even flinching at her Brucie.

"Yep. That's Jay." Bruce's hand landed on his shoulder, tugging him against his leg. Mrs. Kershaw straightened, pulling her hands away as Bruce rubbed his back. "My little angel boy." He laughed and continued conversing with her, but Jason couldn't hear anything. His ears were stuffed with wool, brain focused on those four little words. Those four, perfect words. My little angel boy. His boy. He was- he was Bruce's boy.

"It's always nice to see you Brucie, do stop by soon won't you? And bring your son, he's such a doll." Bruce laughed, drawing Jason back to the present.

"I certainly will," He promised, squeezing Jason's shoulder. "I don't go anywhere without my kiddo." He laughed again, and Jason wrapped his arms around his legs, squeezing tight.

The last time Bruce said it, Jason couldn't hear him. His body hurt, it burned, pain lacing every pore, every single cell. He could feel Bruce's arms around him, Batman suit scraping against his skin painfully, but he couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't do anything, and he didn't want to anyway. He didn't want Bruce to put him down. Not now.

Bruce's head was hung, on his knees, Jason clutched to his chest. Jason could see, faintly, out of the corner of his eyes, the remnants of a burning building. It looked familiar somehow, but the memories were just out of reach.

Bruce's lips were moving, repeating, chanting something, over and over, body shaking with silent sobs as cradled Jason's limp body. "My boy, my darling boy, my boy."

The next time Bruce said it, Jason almost punched him. "Is this him?" The voice was soft, disbelieving, and so, so grievously scratchy and old.

"It is, Mrs. Kershaw." Bruce answered quietly, holding the old woman's hand as he sat on the edge of her bed. "Its Jason. My baby boy." Jason gaped at him, taking a seat next to the bed.

"I'm two inches shorter than you, old man." He grumbled, leaning forward to be in Mrs. Kershaw's eyeline. "Hello ma'am." He greeted quietly. Mrs. Kershaw's eyes crinkled, and she reached one weathered, wrinkled hand for his cheek.

"Oh, oh my darling angel." She whispered, hand tracing the scars on his face. Jason fought the urge to squirm, to escape her condemnation, swallowing hard. Her eyes filled with tears as she cupped his cheek.

"I'm so sorry for all you went through, my Todd." Jason choked on his tears, heart constricting at the old nickname, the soft touch. Her fingers expertly wiped every tear away, smiling softly. Her hands dropped eventually, exhaustion clear in every breath.

"Take it easy, darling." Bruce murmured quietly, pressing a kiss to her hand again as he set it down on the bed. "We'll visit again soon." She smiled, hand reaching up one last time to snag Jason's.

"You done good, angel. Putting up with Brucie. He loves you." Jason smiled softly, leaning down to press a kiss to her hand as well.

"I know ma'am. I know. Sleep well. We'll come visit." She smiled, squeezing his hand before letting go. "You'd better." Jason chuckled, exiting the room to meet Bruce, waiting outside with a smile.

"Hey old man." Bruce swung an arm around his shoulders, knocking their heads together gently. "Hey, my lovely little boy."

uhhhhhh hope you enjoyed??? So sorry for bringing in a random OC it just felt right??? Idk i hope you liked Mrs. Kershaw as much as I did, and hope my story satisfied you, I'm still working through all the asks I've gotten, but my motivation as been like... awful, so i'm trying but make no promises :/ sry for the wait but this one just sparked up some thoughts and i had to write it, hope you liked!

[multifandomfanficss]

F*ck You?

Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Reader

and the rest of the 11th Street Kids

Adrian Chase Masterlist

Prompt: Adrian has his own secret way of asking you to sleep with him.

Warnings: Mentions of sex, but no actual sex. The team bullying Adrian as per cannon ☹️. Peacemaker typical language.

A/N: Just a silly little thought I had at 5am during a text convo with one of my best friends when I couldn’t sleep. Shout out Tyler for letting me bounce this idea off you. Thanks bestie! Just a short little fic. The italics are flashbacks. Crossposting on my AO3 adriansglasses.

Adrian stuck his middle finger up, pointed at you. You were going through some files on the other side of the room unable to see him behind the papers you were focusing on. Those who saw were giving him questioning looks.

“Dude why are you flipping off, (Y/N)? I didn’t realize you were mad at them” Economos decided to be the first to question him. Usually he didn’t care enough to ask, but even he was curious as to why Adrian was enthusiastically flipping you off.

“Oh! That’s because I’m not. I just wanna have sex when we get back to my apartment. I was saying can I fuck you.” Adrian says, as if it’s obvious. Chris begins to laugh, having overheard the conversation.

“Oh my god. I’m not sure if you’re insane or an idiot.” Harcourt rolls her eyes, walking away.

“I’m pretty sure he’s both. You know that’s not what that means right?” Economos questions.

“It has two meanings.” Adrian says in a very matter of fact way.

“No, it doesn’t.” John argues.

“Then how do they always know what I mean?” Adrian asks, as if he’s proving his point.

Chris continues to laugh to himself as Adrian and Economos argue.

You’re deep in thought, not paying them any attention when Leota passes you the file you were looking for.

“Thanks!” You smile at her.

“Why is Adrian flipping you off?” She asks.

You look over at him, blushing. You nod.

“See!” Adrian yells throwing up his arms. “Two meanings! I told you!”

“Oh god.” You blush, hiding your face in one of the files. You didn’t need the entire team knowing you were going home to have sex after this, but it’s not like it was that big of a surprise. You’d been dating Adrian for a while, of course you had a sex life. “I don’t know how or why he got it into his head that fuck you means can I fuck you- but like I personally think it’s very clever and very cute so I just don’t correct him.” You laugh, deciding to be honest with Leota.

You thought back to the first time he flipped you off in such a manner. You were out with the team celebrating with drinks after a mission. He threw up his middle finger, drawing a question mark in the air with the other hand. You looked at him with a confused look and mouthed. ‘Are you asking me to have sex with you?’ and he mouth back, ‘Isn’t it obvious?’. Only Adrian could think something like that was obvious. Only Adrian would even do something like that. You smiled, laughing quietly to yourself. It was so uniquely him.

Chris was still laughing uncontrollably in the back. He was thinking of the first time he’d seen Adrian do this too. Little did everyone else know Chris had been the one to teach it to him long before you were dating.

“You really wanna know how I pick up chicks across the bar?” Chris asked with a shit eating smirk.

“Please!” Adrian begged. He could pull girls as Vigilante no problem, but it was a lot harder without the suit.

“Be direct. Just ask if she wants to go home with you. The most subtle way to be direct is to flip her off.” Chris falsely informs.

“Wait… you want me to be subtle and direct? I’m confused.” Adrian asks.

“Well, yeah. You want her to know, not the whole bar.” Chris quickly lies.

“I always thought flipping somebody off was an insult.” Adrian is rightfully cautious.

“It has two meanings. It’s like special. Special can mean you’re one of a kind, cool, awesome, or it could be used the other way.” Chris explains.

“Oh! Okay!” Adrian smiles, before pausing, with a pondering facial expression. “Wait! You call me special all the time.”

“You should hit on that girl over there!” Chris redirects.

“Okay… here goes nothing…” Adrian says, slowly raising his middle finger. The girl looks shocked and starts to walk up to the two men at the bar. “Oh wow! I think it worked!”

Her pace picks up. She walks up to Adrian, slapping him, hard.

“Wait! This is positive! I’m hitting on you!” Adrian says frantically with his finger still up, as she walks away.

“Aw! Fuck! Do you think maybe she had a boyfriend?” Adrian asks, adjusting his glasses and rubbing his jaw.

“Yeah, maybe.” Chris laughs hysterically.

[opiopal]

yall wanna know something I think abt a lot? teenage/ little sibling mc au's. Mc gets brought down to the devildom at like 15-16 yr, obviously there is zero romance and instead they just get kinned as the 8th sibling in the HOL.

you guys wanna know what else I think of a lot? little sibling Mc being an agent of chaos when their found family trope isnt paying attention.

I can't help but imagine that once mc is kinned they get crazy spoiled. not spoiled rotten but they know they can get away with a LOT because they're now seen as the cute youngest that doesnt know any better. but obviously they do since they are a teenager who knows how the world works.

and I mention the agent of chaos thing is because they were already attending highschool before hand, so they quickly notice how highschoolish RAD feels, so they were able to jump into the social ring a lot faster then regular Mc. and thus have the ability to get information from people who trust them/like them. so it ends up being useful to them. and now to my leading point: imagine a sort of friendship with Mephisto. its really more like, a symbiotic relationship. they are around each other for a reason. and that reason is RADs newpaper club.

it first started out with Mc staying after at RAD with lucifer to help with a few things, eventually Mc was put in a random room to hang out in after they did all that they could. which turned out to be the room for the newspaper club. after a while they get bored because their D.D.D died and they snagged a paper that was meant for the next day. eventually Mephisto enters the room, goes to tell them to leave which quickly they say "Dia told me I can be in here, if you have a problem with what the lord wants you could always go tell him that!" which shut him up fast. a good couple of minutes go by before the silence is broken by Mc speaking up and going, "You know, this is kinda boring." offended, he whips around, "excuse me?"

"theres nothing interesting here. interviews.. talking about things that everyone already knows about.. like, I could google half this junk." "I- well what would you know!?" "a lot actually. you dont appeal to any of the students here."

he glares for second before inhaling slowly, remembering that diavolo might be nearby.

"oh yeah? as if you could do better." "I could actually," "well i would love to hear it then."

he says sarcastically. though Mc speaks anyways.

mc adjusts how they were sitting and scans over the paper for a second.

"a gossip section would do it good." "what?" "come on dude, its non-sports club 101, if you want people to pay attention to you, you need to appeal to them. I was in theater for a while and we'd bribe people with free food if they sat through the whole show. this place loves drama. and lucifer being drawn riding on a unicorn isn't funny enough to get more then one person to buy it."

slowly they start talking a bit more casually and stop being so hostile. eventually Mc says that they could tell him the gossip they hear if he wants to make a part in the paper for said gossip. so, from then on they slip notes to him about student drama. which does indeed get more papers told!

though one day, someone pisses Mc off. not really that they were the one insulted, but they heard a few demons talking shit about their older brothers. so for the next week Mc takes a good amount of notes on those demons. which eventually they go to Mephisto with their notes and gave them to him. when he questions why these particular demons, he's met with a very angry "if those cunts want to talk shit and not mind their business then why shouldn't their own business get talked about." for a moment he wants to press further... but unfortunately for him he found himself actually caring about this human very much so he couldn't help but just want to make them feel better... and this much of a consititant story would draw people in so its totally not that he kinned this kid as well, totally!! so for about two weeks the gossip section has an ongoing story that causes nearly the whole school to get a paper to stay updated.

of course every bit of gossip uses code names to keep people from being outed on anything. and honestly some of the gossip might end up being people bringing it to the newspaper club themselves, so maybe a small confessions page ends up being opened.

obviously this is something a little cracked, and just a not very thought out thing that exists bc it makes me giggle when I'm daydreaming before I fall asleep<3 and honestly I wouldn't be surprised if there was already a gossip section in the school papers, but unfortunately I was never ever able to make it past the first few lessons of session 2 of obey me, which sucks:/

[akataiii]

Lipstick stains (A Bakugou x Female! Reader)

"Ah, shit."

You look down at the empty lipstick, pursing your lips in annoyance. It was your favorite shade, and you had just run out, meaning you'd have to replace it. With a sigh, you slap on some clear lip gloss and head out of your room.

"I'll be back," you say to your boyfriend in passing, grabbing your handbag from the table where you had previously left it.

"Where you headed?" Katsuki asks, looking up from his phone in curiosity.

"I ran out of lipstick," you admit, making your way to the front door to put your shoes on. "I'm just going to make a quick run to the store to get a new one."

"At least get a different shade this time," Katsuki calls from behind you. "The one you had was ugly as shit."

You whip your head around, dropping your shoes before marching back to the couch to glare down at the blonde, who had gone back to looking at his phone. Upon noticing your stare, Katsuki's gaze drifts up to you again, and his brows draw together in a frown.

"What?" He grunts.

"Don't act like you don't know," you scold, crossing your arms across your chest and deepening your scowl. "That's my favorite shade you're insulting."

Katsuki's frown turns to a glare as well, and he shuts his phone off, tossing it to the side as he folds his own arms across his chest, mirroring your pose. "I'm not taking it back," he informs. "Ugly is ugly."

You resist the urge to punch him in the face, reminding yourself that he wasn't being mean on purpose. You do narrow your eyes at him, though. Silently communicating your rage.

Then, suddenly, an idea pops into your head, and you uncross your arms, letting them drop to your side. Katsuki picks up on your sudden shift in moods, and you can see him pull a grimace, knowing he was about to be pulled along for a ride he did not want to be apart of.

"If you hate the shade so much," you start, letting your lips spread into a smirk. "Then how about you tag along and pick one out for me?"

Katsuki lets out a pained groan, throwing his head back against the couch. "No way."

"Come on," you say decidedly, grabbing ahold of his wrist and hauling him to his feet. "Be a good boyfriend for once."

Katsuki makes an offended noise. "Fuck you. I'm a great boyfriend."

And that was all it took to get him out the door with you.

.

"How am I supposed to pick a shade when I don't know what it looks like?" Katsuki questions, watching you present him with several options.

"What do you mean?" You ask in confusion, holding a lipstick up to explain. "The color is literally right here on the bottom."

Katsuki makes a show of rolling his eyes and folding his arms across his chest, staring at you like you're an imbecile. "I mean," he grits out, narrowing his eyes at you. "How can I pick a shade when I don't know if it looks good on you or not?"

You let out a quiet 'Ohh' of understanding, bringing the shades closer to you again to examine the options.

"You could have just asked me to put them on, you know?" You say, smiling at yourself in the mirror when Kastuki's anger flares up behind you again.

When you've applied the lipstick to your lips, you spin around to show it off to the blonde, quirking your brows in the question, 'What do you think?'

Katsuki makes a face, scrunching his nose in consideration before he shakes his head, 'no.'

You sigh and dig a wet wipe out of your bag to wipe the lipstick off of your lips. Then, you pick out the next shade and put it on, smacking your lips before showing it off to your boyfriend.

"No," he says almost immediately. "That one looks even worse."

You shoot him an unamused look. "Seriously?"

The blonde shrugs, tilting his head to the side as he says, "You wanted me to be honest."

You purse your lips in irritation, thinking of a way you can get the blonde back for his pickiness. When you get an idea, your eyes light up, once again alerting Katsuki that he was in for a ride, whether he liked it or not.

"How about I see what it looks like on you, hmm?" You question, and Katsuki's eyes shoot open in response as you start to approach him in slow, almost predatory steps.

"Fuck no," he protests, holding a finger up in warning. "You are not putting that shit on my lips."

Your smile widens in response, and you keep stalking closer to the blonde, sidestepping him once, twice, before slinging your arms around his neck and placing a fierce kiss onto his cheek.

You let go of his neck, grinning in triumph as Katsuki stands there, stiff as a board.

"Yeah, you're right," you say, turning around and wiping the lipstick off of your lips again. "That shade is pretty ugly."

The blonde doesn't utter a word when you spin around to show him the next shade, still stunned from your earlier actions.

"What about this one, Kats?" You question, getting no response except for a strangled noise from the back of his throat.

"Let's see if I like it on you," you say, placing another kiss on Katsuki's opposite cheek, finally shocking the blonde back into motion.

"That one's ugly too," he says, and you don't miss the blush that creeps onto his cheeks, slightly hidden by the pink and red lipstick marks you left.

"Really?" You prompt, letting out a giggle at his flustered state. "I think this one's rather nice on you."

Getting no answer apart from a click of the tongue, you spin around and wipe your lips for the third time, putting on the next shade.

"How's this one?" You ask as your eyes leave the mirror. When you turn around, you're surprised to find that Katsuki is no longer a few steps away and is now standing almost on top of you, looming over your form with a smirk plastered on his face.

"It's perfect," he breathes before bending down and capturing your painted lips with his own.

A short but breathtaking kiss later, Katsuki pulls away with lipstick on his lips identical to your own, smiling down at you with affection flashing through his crimson gaze.

"Great," you whisper, still breathless from the kiss. "I'll get this one then."

"Damn right," Katsuki says, creating some space between the two of you as he takes a step back. "Now give me that wet wipe."

You chuckle, handing it over and watching as Katsuki starts furiously wiping at his face to get the lipstick marks off.

"Good?" He asks when he's done, looking at you for approval.

Your eyes widen before you quickly inspect the label of the lipstick you're holding. You bring a hand up to cover your mouth, looking back up at Katsuki with an apologetic gaze.

"What?" He questions, brows furrowing expectantly for when you drop the bombshell that has you looking so worried on him.

"Katsuki. I am so sorry," you say, unable to hold back your laugh when Katsuki grabs the lipstick from your hand and inspects the label for himself.

"IT'S FUCKING TINTED!?"

.

In the end, you got a new favorite shade of lipstick, and Katsuki... Well. Katsuki got some very positive feedback from the civilians he passed on patrol the next day.

[li-an-nie]

The origin of Isagi’s talent and a message for us (ft. Naruhaya & Kaiser)

Hi! This is something I've been thinking about for quite a while... and today I finally want to share with you my theory, or rather explanation, for Isagi Yoichi – his character, where his talent for adaptability comes from, as well as our own takeaways we can draw from Kaneshiro's characters.

This is a lot, but I think it shows how powerful the story of Blue Lock really can be!

Transformation

People often like to joke about Slursagi - how this ordinary guy with the seemingly most ordinariest of parents has so far spit out some of the wildest insults on the field haha. Well, sadly I don’t have an explanation for all of that, but I do have one for his incredibly fast and exponential progress in Blue Lock. I mean, we all know by now, as Naruhaya has said before and as was kinda picked up in the most recent chapters – it's his innate aptitude for adaptability, learning and change. Destroying yourself and then rebuilding your best version. Abandoning everything else and thinking of yourself as just a means to an end. While everyone else in Blue Lock had good enough soccer skills to manage just fine on their own so far, this is the method Isagi had to use in order to keep up with all the other players.

(see Ch. 53)

The question is just, where did this amazing talent come from? Is this a learned skill or a mutation, as Ego talked about? Is it nurture or nature?

If we look at it, the other guys in Blue Lock have all these sad backstories, traumas and toxic family relationships and whatnot. Yet Isagi has come so far, despite his ordinary background. Or rather... because of it. Or rather... only someone with a background like him could actually pull this off..! Why? Because Isagi has something that many of us don’t – unconditional love and support.

Again, this is just my own interpretation, but think about the term ‘destroying yourself’ first – what the hell does that even mean (if we ignore the edginess in that statement)?

(This is going to get super abstract, and even I don’t 100% know what I’m talking about, but hear me out first.)

It can mean so much – destroying your personality, your preconceptions of the world or a field, your prejudices, your obsessions, your pride, your fears, your regrets, basically anything that is capable of holding you back. Most people can’t simply do that. Naruhaya couldn’t. We all have inhibitions about certain things, no matter how hard we try, it often feels impossible to let go of certain thoughts and emotions. We're tethered to the past, afraid of losing our ‘self’ we’ve built in the process. There’s always a fear – if we fail, if we slip up, we might genuinely end up with nothing but our own ruin and failures, and that’s why we can never really go 100% of the way.

But Isagi can.

(see Ch. 55)

Origin

Isagi grew up in an ordinary household. But I'd say his family, his parents are actually far from ordinary.

We see it in the spin-off novel first, where Isagi’s incredible spatial awareness was apparent from a young age, making him very timid and much like a scaredy-cat in the beginning. But instead of scolding or condemning him, his parents always tried to understand and support him. And the same applied when Isagi first expressed his desire for a soccer ball.

(see BL Spin-Off - Isagi Yoichi Ch.2)

It doesn't matter if he's a crybaby, as long as he grows up healthy. For the first time, their timid, only son showed them what he wanted to do with his own will. That alone was enough to satisfy them completely.

With that out the way, this scene you probably remember from the manga is more than enough to illustrate everything (Ch. 152).

"You’re still our son, whether you’re special or average. What makes me happy is that you’re doing what you want, and giving your best at it."

"Whether you win or lose, no matter what… we’ll always be there for you, Yocchan."

"So live your life as you want."

Jesus Christ. If that’s not the most loving and supportive parents in the world, then what is?

Isagi’s parents have simply no expectations of him. They love and support him so unconditionally. They encourage and adore him, and they will always think of him their precious son, no matter if he wins or loses, if he chooses to live an average person’s life or risk everything to become the best striker in the world. Isagi knows this, and he grew up like this, he grew up with a certainty that no matter what you will still be loved. That’s why he can sacrifice everything of himself – because ultimately, under that everything is something that will never leave, and this certainty is what enables him to push so far in the first place. He developed a mindset that could push itself to its limits, and it directly impacted not only his life decisions but his evolution on the soccer field as well.

(see Ch. 55)

Naruhaya, on the other hand, had the same talent for adaptability, but he wasn't able to go as far as Isagi. Because unlike Isagi, there were things he had to protect, the stakes were too high – his sisters, and their precarious financial situation. Even though a dire situation like this should enable him to push himself even further, that stake is also exactly what held him back in the end. In his case, it matters so much whether he wins or loses. When it starts to matter, you ultimately become afraid of what will happen if you do lose, and for him that meant so much more than just the end of his dreams. Isn’t it natural to feel more under stress when the stakes are higher?

Opposites

So because of this foundation that Isagi has, he is different than the rest. This would kind of speak against the assumption I had at the beginning of Blue Lock, that his ordinariness is meant to represent all of us. With basically the message that anyone can evolve and transform themselves for the better, just like Isagi. But to be honest that was already thrown out of the window through the spin-off, where you see that Isagi was already gifted as a child. And I’m not even sure if this was supposed to be Kaneshiro’s intended takeaway to begin with, but there’s another way this message can fit together. The missing piece lies in Kaiser.

Because yeah, we all saw what Isagi realized in Ch. 282 was basically following the same thing Kaiser did 20 chapters before (discard everything but your original ego).

If we take into account what we know Isagi, it becomes all the more heartbreaking and ironic when we actually see Kaiser do the same type of evolution in Ch. 262 for the first time – I quote, “past achievements, pride, everything he ever won”, literally the joy he felt about becoming human, he was willing to destroy and throw it all away, he became zero, despite knowing that if he fails that’s all there would be left – zero.

(see Ch. 262)

He’s always had zero, and the soccer ball is the first thing he ever truly ‘gains’. After his career takes off, he slowly acquired more and more, fame, money, achievements, you name it. This would be the first time he possesses so much, but he doesn’t know the pain of losing something yet, because he never had anything before to begin with. Kaiser built himself a high mountain out of things he never had, but then was willing to risk the pain of losing everything and roll back down into that pit of nothing again, all for the sake of his goal. If that's not strength, then what is?

And it’s also a direct contrast to Isagi.

Isagi and Kaiser are opposites, they are extremes that came from completely different worlds and family backgrounds. And yet they are also exactly the same, because they had the same strengths and resolves and were able to undergo the same kind of evolution. One has all the love and one lived their entire life deprived of it, one never questioned being human and one never believed themself to be one, yet they both were able to discard everything of themselves and then rebuild a better version – all for the sake of their goals.

Takeaway

So coming back to the message, how does that apply to us, the average person? Isagi and Kaiser represent a spectrum, and if you ever feel stuck somewhere in life, then remember – you are somewhere in between those two worlds. Doesn't that mean that you're capable of the same change too? I also don’t think it matters whether you’re a genius or talented learner, in real life there’s no clear line between those things anyway. Every one of us excels at something and every one of us has to learn and adapt in other areas. But what Blue Lock ultimately shows is that no matter what background, age or ambition, in the end, the things that can push us forward the most are our own dreams and ego. We are all capable of change.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk!

[houserautha]

These Destined Ends

Part Nineteen

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

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x f!Reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: MDNI, 18+. Fighting, Feyd eats ass and pussy, a little humiliation, violent sex, drowning(?)

A/N: I was really in the mood to write some unhinged sex, so, here we are. Surprisingly there is a lot of plot too

“For someone so…prolifically opposed to the Bene Gesserits, you aren’t working very hard to dismantle our ideas.”

Your mother’s voice slips over you, slick as oil. It takes an enormous effort not to keep walking and pretend like you didn’t hear her. She would just stop you, anyway, which is the only reason that you turn around.

“Go ahead and spit out whatever you’re trying to say. All of your riddles bore me.”

Jessica licks her tongue. “Hm, so cunning.” When you don’t say anything else, she draws up her shoulders and sighs. “You claim you don’t want to trick the Fremen and yet you are still dragging them into your fight.”

“This is their fight as much as ours,” you snap.

“It’s all apart of our plan.” Jessica spreads her hands wide. “They will follow you as the Holy Mother, and then they will follow your son as the Lisan al-Gaib. And if you’re successful in your endeavor against the Emperor…well.”

She smiles, the rest of her words going unspoken. We will rule the Known Universe.

A fist of regret forms in your stomach. “I want to liberate them. It is not my intent to keep them…under control.”

“Oh, but you’ll manipulate them to get your way first? Such a noble act. You’re just like your father.”

You tuck away this last insult to examine later, why it cuts you so deeply. Instead, you focus on how Jessica has said aloud your guilt, brought it to life in a way that you had been trying to ignore. No matter how hard you fight against the Bene Gesserits, you somehow end up still adhering to their false prophecy. An inescapable fate.

“What do you want from me?” You ask her. It’s repulsive how efficiently she can crumble your composure.

“To impart a reminder.” Jessica steps closer, sand crunching underfoot. “I did all of this for you, daughter. To protect you. And I will not tolerate your insubordination.”

“To protect me?” You echo, sneering.

Jessica’s laugh is dry and bitter. “You are not as cunning as you think. I married you to a man who would shield you with his life, fill your belly with his children — ensure you a status as a figure to be reveled. I made you a god.”

“You did nothing,” you say back, lacking any real conviction.

“You’ll understand soon. You might already, the depths that a mother’s love will go, and what we’ll do for our children.”

Jessica lifts a hand to touch your face, then thinks better of it. She must sense that this is the most devastating thing she could ever utter to you because she brushes past you without another word, leaving you open and bleeding.

You hate that she’s right.

That you’re playing into the Bene Gesserit’s design. But you see no other way to even glimpse freedom for the Fremen if not recruiting them in this self-made battle. Except it wasn’t self-made, your thoughts scream at you, it was the Baron and the Emperor.

Anger boils under your skin. You’re sick of others telling you what to do, dictating your life while you were pushed along like a leaf in a strong current.

“You need to eat,” Feyd chides you, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Hm?”

“Eat.” He indicates your ration, which you haven’t even touched. “You need to be strong.”

You blink. You can’t even fathom eating right now, especially not with this much guilt churning in your stomach. Blurting out, you tell him, “I think I’m going to do something completely absurd.”

Feyd, who had been ravenously devouring his own ration until this point, pauses. He swallows.

“Alright.”

“Alright?” A smile tugs at your lips. “Don’t you want to know what it is?”

“I don’t care.” He leans back. “You’ve been uncharacteristically quiet. I suspected you were planning something.”

“You are either a wonderful husband or wonderfully stupid, Feyd-Rautha.”

“I’m told that I’m just all around wonderful.” Feyd’s eyes narrow. “Now eat.”

The plan unwinds from you between forced bites of food. It starts as a single thread that unravels itself until it’s all unspooled, leaving you to hold the pieces. A strange calm settles over you. You’re in control. Capable. Powerful.

Feyd gives you his support. Not that you believed he would do any different.

And when you reveal parts of your plan to Jessica, you frame it in a way to make amends with her. To be compliant. You have no way of knowing how convincing you are, but she lets you gather the Fremen to speak to them, all the while her blue-on-blue gaze watching you carefully as you ascend the slab of rock used to preside over sietch-wide meetings.

Feyd lingers a few feet behind you, Gurney not far from him, an uneasy truce between the two.

Beneath you, the Fremen gaze up with looks of awe; even Chani observes the proceedings with a look of interest.

You’ve earned their trust.

And now you’re going to take it away.

"The final days of our siege on the Emperor and his Harkonnen pets are upon us," you call out, voice booming, "I have never been so honored to walk alongside any other people, and I have the utmost faith in our victory."

You’re met with a cheer of approval.

It takes a moment for the crowd to quiet before you can continue. There's an electric current in the air, nearly infectious, the anticipatory thrill before battle. You hope that you're not making a mistake as you say, "To go into battle, you must trust your brothers and sisters, trust your leaders. I must confess that I haven't been honest with you."

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jessica move to stop you. Feyd, with cotton in his ears and anger in his eyes, doesn't let her get far.

The crowd rumbles, wary.

"I am not the Holy Mother." Sounds of confusion arise, which forces you to raise your voice. "I am a flaw in the plan of the Bene Gesserits. I failed to learn their power, and therefore, my child cannot be the Lisan al-Gaib."

"What? Is this true?" At Stilgar's emergence, the sietch stills.

You regard them as evenly as you can, throat constricting. "Yes."

"But you knew everything. All of the signs of the prophecy —"

"It was a lie. A ruse."

Stilgar's tremulous control of the sietch snaps. The Fremen riot this information, hurling insults, pushing and shoving and jostling like one enraged creature. You stand your ground. You knew this would be devastating to deliver, not nothing could prepare you for the raw portrayal on their tanned faces.

As planned, Feyd and Gurney ward off anyone who tries to get to you — Feyd slides twin daggers from the sheaths at his waist, metal glinting dangerously. The Fremen lurk, circling, but they do not engage, not when the na-Baron has now learned their ways atop his own lethal training.

You bear the weight of their fury as best as you can. Somewhere deep inside, you know that they have to expel this from their minds and their hearts before you can say anything else, but that doesn't mean it hurts any less. You commit each expression of betrayal to your memory. If they were going to suffer, then so would you.

The sound of shifting sand is your only warning before someone hurtles past you — Chani, somehow slipping past your defenses, only barely misses you as you step aside at the last possible moment. There's not enough time for you to recover from the surprise before her next attack, sweeping your legs out from under you. You fall, hard, on your ass but have enough forethought to scramble backwards.

"Chani, listen to me —"

"I knew we should've killed you when we found you in the desert," she hisses.

She advances on you and each step she takes you shuttle back, pain ringing out in your spine. Your son is safe, you can sense it, but you don't know how long that will last with Chani gaining on you.

"Chani —"

"We trusted you," she wails, "we trusted you!"

You manage to your feet, one hand going to your stomach. A fierce wave of protection washes over you, and you insist, "You still can."

Chani springs for you.

You gasp with shock as she seizes you, eyes wide with anger. "When will you stop fucking lying?"

"I'm not lying," you breathe out. "I am not the Holy Mother. I am Lisan al-Gaib."

Whatever she expects you to say, it's not that. She pauses, and you take the chance to slam your elbow into her throat. A choked sound escapes from her, but she releases you, and you stagger past her to reclaim your spot at the top of the rock. You don't have much time. If you don't say what you need to, then you'll lose them forever.

"Brothers and sisters!" Gripped with desperation, you shout, "I tell you this because I am not the Holy Mother. I am the Kwisatz Haderach. I am Lisan al-Gain. And I will lead you to freedom."

"She's lying!" Chani roars.

"The prophecy states that the Lisan al-Gaib's mother will be a Bene Gesserit, that the Messiah will take the name Muad'dib, take you into battle for your freedom and for a new Arrakis. Have I not fulfilled that? Have I not promised you those very things?"

The protests subside slightly. It might be to decide how best to kill you, but you seize the opportunity. "I should not have lied. I was afraid. I thought if I told you the truth, you would be mistrustful because I was with child, that I was wed to your enemy. I know my mistake, and I know that I can't retract it, but I beg for you to forgive me."

"How do we know if we can trust you now?" Stilgar asks, expression hardened.

"You don't, and I can't fault you for it. But if you let me, I will prove my sincerity in the following days, by defeating the Emperor and securing our rightful place in the Known Universe."

"Never," Chani snaps from behind you.

You let some of your emotions leak into your voice, "Then what will you do? If you dispose of me, there will be no Atreides bombs. You will have no weapon against the Emperor and the Sardaukar, the Baron and his own army. Do not be so blinded by your anger that you make a mortal error. Only together can we be triumphant."

While Gurney and Feyd work together to fend off the crowd of protesters, Jessica finds you, nearly toppling you from the rock and wrenching your arm from your shoulder. "What are you doing?"

You wrest your arm from her grip. Quickly, you flick your gaze over the revolting Fremen, over all of those you had grown close to, then return your gaze to her. "Making myself a god."

The water lays impossibly still. You stand at its edge, taking in the enormity of the subterranean pool. All of the lives of the deceased Fremen reside within, a watery tomb, untouched. How deep did it go? You imagine your life's water funneled into it, how small and insignificant it would be, barely a ripple on the surface.

Tomorrow, you would fight.

The Fremen returned their water to the sietch to be used one day in their new world, an endless cycle of resourcefulness and unity. How many lives would end here? How many lives to reach the new world that Kynes described?

You sigh, and the sound echoes throughout the cavernous space. There's a strange, tranquil calm here, silent and still when everything else has been a mess of noise. Even now, focused on the depth of the sacred pool, your mind races with worry and indecision. You just want it to stop.

Perhaps tomorrow would offer you peace.

The peace of the battlefield, your body acting on instinct and years of practice. You could handle that — bloodshed, death, being a weapon. You could not handle this new position of power you put yourself in, though. An act against the Bene Gesserits, but at what cost? You alone were to blame now for the inevitable jihad. But you protected your son from this fate, you put a cease to the lying and the deceiving, and now you could wrest the control that you always wanted.

The sound of heavy bootsteps rings out in the death chamber, scattering the handful of Fremen who had been working. You hadn't missed their pointed stares or the wide berth they gave you, but you were grateful nonetheless for their departure, especially since it was prompted by your husband. His presence, even at your back, anchors you instantly.

"You've been here awhile."

"Have you been watching me?" You ask, turning to place him in your peripheral, a sketch of black and white.

There's no mistaking the twitch of amusement on his features. "You're a fool if you think I ever stop."

Since the day that you proclaimed yourself as Lisan al-Gaib, Feyd had taken it upon himself to be your security detail. It's not unlike before, but now with more menacing stares. A second shadow, one that you love more dearly than your own. You smile. "Should I be flattered?"

"If you'd like." The metallic sound of his blades sliding into their sheaths precedes him, then his hand gently sweeping the hair off your neck. Feyd's mouth is warm at the top of your spine, the tiny amount of skin showing.

Your eyes flutter shut. "I can't believe it's finally here."

"Finally being the operative word," Feyd rasps, "I've waited a lifetime for it."

You turn to face him, heart panging. He's so beautiful like this, in this dark light, the blade before its whet on stone. You know from experience that this could change frighteningly quick, but you still appreciate these fleeting moments with him, that they're yours alone.

"Only one more day," you tell him.

His gaze searches you. "We have better ways to spend it than staring into this pool and analyzing our decisions."

Your cheeks burn. Of course he knew what you were doing. Your attention drifts from him to the sacred pool again, the expanse of water beneath the teeth of the stalagmites. "It's difficult when our decisions impact so many."

"I know, jewel."

It's this level of understanding that compels you to him, how he knows better than anyone else the dilemma you have. And he doesn't offer empty words or sympathy. Just...himself. His strength and his solidarity. And you want him, all of him.

Unable to go another second without touching him, you pull him into you and tilt your head, his mouth claiming yours without hesitation. One hand slides behind your head, cradling you, and he deepens the kiss. There's nothing soft about Feyd, nothing done without fervor, and you moan as he bites down on your lip. Taking your open mouth as invitation, he slips his tongue inside, brushing it over your own.

Molten heat erupts in your core. You wend your arms around his neck, matching his intensity and scraping your nails over the back of his head. He shudders, the familiar nudge of his cock stirring against you in response. Wanton, you grind your hips into him, eliciting a growl from deep within his chest. Feyd guides your hand to palm his hardened length. "Let me distract you."

"This isn't an effort to fuck me one last time before we die, is it? Because you only had to ask."

You squeeze his head through his pants.

Feyd inhales sharply, but the intensity on his face never wavers. "You won't die unless it's by my hand. And I'm feeling charitable."

"Is that because I have your cock in my hand?"

"It certainly helps."

You smirk. Although you're both aiming to keep the tone light, his message is clear — he won't let you die tomorrow. It's a promise he's made before, and one that comforts you in your lowest moments. There's other ways to declare your love, but this one was uniquely Feyd's.

You never would've thought that the promise of your death could sound so sweet.

In vain, you make an effort to free him from his stillsuit, but they're infuriating efficient at keeping everything out. You can't help it, you whine. With a chuckle that brushes over your spine, Feyd steps back to relieve you of your frustration, working the mechanisms of his suit.

The first hint of his bare shoulders has you clenching your thighs together like a virgin, wet already. You should've been ashamed at the immediate reaction, but you really don't care. Feyd slowly rolls the stillsuit down his chest. Your stomach swoops. He's corded with muscle, powerful arms flexing as he moves the stillsuit low on his hips. Cunt clenching and pulsing with anticipation, you watch him remove it, noting every inch of your husband's divine physique.

"Have I told you that you're beautiful?" You ask him. There's an array of thin, delicate scars across his skin that you trace with the tips of your fingers — older ones, ones that you've put there, the still-pink wound from the thopter crash.

Feyd's lips hitch. "You've called me many things, but that's never been one of them."

"Well you are," you tell him, "you're beautiful."

"Quit saying things as if you'll never have the chance to again." His tone is brusque. The expression on his face can only be described as tormented, anguished, undoubtedly confronted by the same reality of tomorrow.

It's not your intention to provoke him, but it spills out of you. "We don't know what's going to happen to tomorrow. Anything —"

"I'll tell you what's going to happen." Feyd grabs a handful of hair at the back of your head, pain lancing through your scalp. "We're going to slaughter those that wronged us, and I'm going to fuck you amongst their still warm bodies. But tonight, I'm going to remind you that no harm will come to you unless I inflict it."

Something breaks open in you at this. Feyd yanks your head back and the momentum sends you staggering, falling to your knees. He advances toward you and you eye his cock, curved and throbbing, veins black with his blood.

Feyd fists his shaft, giving it a lazy stroke as he watches you. "You get on your knees and instantly think you get this cock?"

"I —" your face burns. Isn't that what he wanted?

"Filthy slut," he murmurs, still stroking himself.

Heavy lidded, dark eyes swimming with glee, he orders you to turn around. You obey, and the air is snatched from your lungs when he pushes you forward onto your hands and knees, sand biting into your palms.

The water of the sacred pool trembles.

You're utterly vulnerable as Feyd starts to work the clasps of your stillsuit, fingers grazing over your skin in the most delicious way. The suit falls from your shoulders and you lift up each arm as he tugs it off, mouth following its path with open mouth kisses. He snakes around you to cup your breast, flicking one stiff nipple with his thumb.

The action sends a bolt of pleasure straight to your core. You bow into him, and Feyd massages you, alternating between flicking your nipple and rolling it between his fingers.

It's truly torturous when he revokes his hand to continue pulling your stillsuit off, and you whimper at the cool air in his absence. Soon he's tugging it around your knees and finally discarding it, leaving you vulnerable to his gaze. Quivering, whether with cold or anticipation, you bite out a yelp as he traces the seam of your ass, then the tight ring of muscles.

Feyd palms your ass, kneading it, forcing you to spread your legs further. He blows a stream of breath over your sensitive center.

"Shit, Feyd," you mutter, teeth gritting. You hate when he teases you, offering you only a taste of what he plans to do.

In reply, he circles the ring of muscles, then dips his other hand to greet your clit.

"You are the most beautiful," he rasps to you, ministrations making you squirm. "Especially like this, so desperate."

The warmth of his mouth ghosts down your spine, the cleft of your ass, before settling there. He kisses your entrance while applying pressure to your clit, one, then two fingers slipping inside your slicked folds. If you could howl without somehow disturbing the dead, you would, but the sanctity of this place keeps your mouth shut.

A laugh rumbles from him because he knows, he knows that you'll let him fuck you here but you'll still uphold your respect in this way. All of the worry and concern for tomorrow is chased away by the punishing effort of his mouth and fingers, replacing it with a lightheadedness, the predecessor to your orgasm.

He curls his fingers, twisting and turning them with practiced precision. Meanwhile he slurps from behind you, vigorous, eager, his spit combining with your arousal wetting you from front to back. Feyd continues to finger you while he flattens his tongue and licks up, circling the ring of muscles before flickering over it. You can feel yourself spinning closer and closer to your climax, stomach tightening and cunt throbbing.

"Do you want to come, jewel?" He asks, biting at your ass.

You cry out in surprise and then, panting, answer, "Y-Yes."

Feyd withdraws from you. He sucks his fingers clean, the sound driving another bolt of pleasure through you, before shoving your face into the sand and tilting more of you to him, hips shifting. This time he brings his attention to your cunt, implementing the same ferocity, lapping and feasting with dizzying effect.

He seals his mouth around your folds and sucks.

It doesn't take long for you to completely come undone, whimpering, shuddering with each wave of your orgasm. Feyd focuses on you until you're thoroughly spent, then releases you with a satisfying squelch. Gasping for breath, you would've collapsed if he hadn't been holding you upright. There's no time to recover, though, as he slips his hand back into your hair and inches you to the edge of the sacred pool.

Stars are still bursting behind your eyes. You stammer, "Feyd, what —"

"I hurt you because I love you," he rasps into your skin, pressing a kiss between the blades of your shoulders.

And then he forces your head underwater.

The pool is shockingly warm. But it's not enough to ward the chill of shock that washes over you: first, that Feyd would desecrate such a sacred site, then the twist of horror when he doesn't immediately release you. Bubbles escape from your mouth. Your eyes are open, you think, but you can't tell, it's pitch black beneath the surface.

As you expend the last of your air in a silent scream, your lungs pinch with panic — he's going to kill you now, he's going to drown you.

He yanks you back up right when you think that you might never take in another gulp of air. You sputter and gasp, wet hair clinging to you, using whatever measures necessary to keep yourself above the water. But Feyd overpowers you, and he ducks your head under.

This time you have some notion of preservation and keep your eyes and your mouth shut, even when your lungs scream in protest. It's all for nothing, though, when you feel him notch his cock at your entrance.

Feyd wrenches you up again. Through your gasping he growls out, "You are mine. In life and in death, jewel."

He slams into you up to the hilt. You have just enough time to cry out before he's dunking you back under, withdrawing and then slamming into you once more. The pain and pleasure entangle themselves within you, make it difficult to decipher one from the other, entirely infused.

Your survival instinct is yelling at you to fight and you thrash, desperate to rake air back into your lungs. But there's no mistaking the utter thrill of him pounding into your cunt over and over again, quite literally holding your life in his hand while he does it. Only Feyd could straddle this delicate line of control — only Feyd would you let hold such power, one infinitesimal decision away from ending your life for good.

And so it goes, Feyd rutting into you while intermittently releasing you from the pool's watery embrace. Sometimes he keeps you above the water for longer periods of time. At least, it feels that way, there's really no way to tell. Tears leak from your eyes and you cry and beg. No matter how much it makes your cunt clench, you can't turn off the part of you pleading for reprieve. And sometimes he keeps you under the water for eons, the edges of your vision darkening, but he always pulls you back up.

You're suspended in this constant ebb and flow. You have no sense of being, of time, no sense of whether you're coming or not even though there's waves of pleasure beneath the panic.

Feyd's cock swells inside you. You're sore already from his fervent thrusts, thighs quaking, but you know he's close to chasing his own release.

You flop down onto the wet sand as he finishes. Chest heaving, you squeeze your walls around him as he spills his cum in you. He lingers until he's done, then crawls by your side by the edge of the pool, where you're still trying to catch your breath and find some inkling of clarity. Feyd curls up beside you, pulling you into his arms and whispering praises in your ear.

Shivering, you allow him to envelope you, warmed by his rasping voice and the gentle touch of his hands over your bare skin. He brushes a thumb over the slight swell of your belly. You don't know how long you stay intertwined like that, both of you coming down from the high of your passion as the pool returns to its former stillness.

Frankly, you didn't want to know the repercussions you would face for treating the sacred place so vile. No one would know but the two of you, of course, and the countless people who had returned their water there. You say a quick prayer of forgiveness to whoever is listening as Feyd kisses you. At least you would both go to whatever Fremen hell together, which was the least you could ask. Just like he said.

In life and in death.

Part Twenty

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[jsprnt]

Alliance PT. 1 | Prince!Jude Bellingham

W/C: 2.074

A/N: happy new year! 🎆 so excited to share my new work with you guys in the next few weeks!! I hope it’s up to your expectations 🫶

introduction

"Yes, Mother. The right one is better."

Mumbling, I look away from the multiple rolls of the most distinguished fabrics I had ever laid my eyes upon.

Imported, even though we had the best fabric weavers in our own palace.

In my observations, our kingdom was very prideful in appearance, but it was a shock that my mother insisted on such flaunting and showing for a wedding, I barely wanted to be a part of.

I catch a glimpse of my face in the mirror. My reflection making me scowl in disbelief. My eyes were visibly tired, and my body was aching from an entire day's worth of running around the palace.

"Creating the perfect wedding dress. That is our priority. It is the most important part of a royal wedding.." My mother speaks, her voice sharp, as if everything she says is a fact, before she drops her gaze to the rolls of white fabric. Touching and feeling the softness of the silk one by one.

"What about getting married to a man I barely even know? Is that not important, or a cause for concern?" I challenge, raising my brows.

The look she gives me shuts me up immediately.

Cold and intimidating, just like you'd imagine a reigning Queen to act like.

"This is your duty. If you mess this up, we will be humiliated. Your sacrifice will be for a greater good.."

"You will make history, this is history.." She places her well-manicured hands on my shoulder, fingers digging into the fabric of my dress.

It's not a reassurance, but a disguised threat.

I remove my gaze from her, feeling her piercing eyes on my face.

To contain my anger at the situation, I clench my fist behind my back, exhaling through my nose in muted anger.

"Well, go and do something about that appearance of yours.." My mother scolds mindlessly, ushering my handmaidens towards me.

"I want to see how you look in your newly sewn dress, hurry upstairs.."

I draw blood from the inside of my cheek with my teeth, closing my eyes helplessly before turning around.

She wouldn't stop pestering me about that ugly piece of fabric she called an engagement gown.

This is ridiculous.

I was like a simple part of her game. In this case, the piece of wood she'd parade around the board game after throwing her dice down carelessly.

I scuffle upstairs, the old wood creaks under my feet, and I huff when I notice the pile of clothes on my bed.

I must've broken a rib or two by the end of getting dressed. The stupid corset practically suffocating me, which in turn made sitting down even worse..

"Whoever invented this- restricting, useless, self-destructing thing- should be burnt at the stake.." I say through clenched teeth, causing my most trustworthy handmaiden, Gianna, to grin.

"It is to make you look even more beautiful, Your Highness.." Her voice is soft and gentle, her calming presence helped me keep my sanity in this place.

I look up at her, shaking my head before speaking.

"Changing my body to fit into an ugly dress- rather insulting- don't you think?"

I give her a bored look, pouting when she inches closer to apply a thick balm to my lips.

Since I was a little girl, I had developed a horrible habit of excessively licking my lips. It only worsened when I was stressed out.

And since learning of my own marriage through a confidential letter I had sneaked up to read, it was a state I found myself in, even in my sleep.

I did not know the science behind the phenomenon, nor did my royal tutors, who looked at me like I was crazy when I enthusiastically asked about the connection between saliva and dry lips, but they were dry and burning. The nearing autumn temperatures were not helping with the cracking and bleeding of my poor lips.

"Can you believe my mother is marrying me off like I am an illegitimate child?" I speak, voice fluctuating in disgust.

"I am sure the Queen is doing what is best for our kingdom-"

"At my expense?!" I grumble at her explanation, my frown would probably be stuck on my face for the rest of my married life.

A sad, miserable, and lonely life.

I look up to see Gianna bite her lip, she looks around the room cautiously, before making eye contact with me. A grin creeps up to her face, and I know her next words will not be serious in the slightest.

"Have you seen the Crown Prince before?" Her voice is cheeky, round cheeks protruding as she gives me a dimpled smile.

"I think we must have crossed paths when we were children, before the war broke out- but I am not sure I remember.. Even if he was an angel as a child, the Valeronian people are known to be so very uptight and greedy. Do you expect their future monarch to become some Prince Charming? It will never be like in the stories I read.."

Since the start of the war years ago, one thing that kept me from losing faith in peace were the romantic and sweet-as-sugar stories I read as a young girl.

Growing up in a big palace meant being by myself a lot. I was content with it, losing myself in words that pulled me in and made me create entire worlds in my mind.

That faith had turned into dread years later, feeling like the beautiful and hopeful worlds in my mind had completely collapsed due to my misfortune.

Never did I anticipate a simple marriage would end this brutal war.

My marriage.

The Crown Prince of Valeron was like a cloud of mystery. Being the oldest son meant for him to be mature and selfless, but I had not heard or witnessed anything close to positive things about his personality.

His entire existence was hanging above my head- like he would spill darkness and destruction into my life the moment we'd be wed.

"I have heard that he is tall, at least.." I mumble, if I was forced to marry, let him at least have the face and physique to admire.

"Is he handsome, Your Highness?"

Oh, yes at least there were two positive things about him- well, his appearance..

He was tall, and devastatingly handsome.

After hearing that a marriage had been arranged- I might have ordered one of my guards to seek out a visual description of the Crown Prince.

When he had returned with an entire- painting of him- I did not hesitate to shove a sack of gold coins into his pocket when no one was looking. 

Jude Victor Bellingham was the picture-perfect Prince from the outside, exactly how they described him.

With brown eyes, and beautiful dark, curly hair even I was jealous of.

He was perfect.

In his wrinkle-free attire no one could state otherwise, and the painting I admired some uncertain nights only proved it as a fact.

I shake my head to make the wandering thoughts disappear, leaning back against my chair.

"Well, maybe a handsome face can help me endure a loveless marriage.."

"Princess..."

I knew that tone. She wanted to reassure me, comfort me, but really- no one could convince me at this point in time that there could be anything close to love in a marriage of alliance of our kingdoms.

The Crown Prince just needed a good, obedient woman of nobility to take his claim over the throne after the recent death of his father, his majesty the King of Valeron.

With ending the destructive war, Jude would gain both respect and honor. Though, I would be the one sacrificed in order for that to happen.

I was never told why the Queen specifically wanted me for her so-perfect son.

There were multiple other Princesses or noblewomen they could have chosen from. They all had received similar education to mine, and all had been given proper etiquette classes.

My biggest guess on why it ended up being me was the thread that connected our kingdoms- the war.

The kingdom was both thriving economically and socially. A giant in trading, and of course, warfare.

With innovative weaponry and an emphasis on military power- it had only taken them the reign of one King to double the size of their land which they ruled.

Could I blame my mother for wanting an alliance with the most powerful, and most influential kingdom in the world? Ending the conflict that had taken thousands of lives and hundreds of acres of my kingdom?

When a man's description of duty would be laying his life down for his people and land, a woman's would be to suffer silently through a tortured life.

Was it better to die a masculine hero, than to suffer through life an unhappy bride?

Well, I had a long few miserable years to debate these questions.. and maybe I'd be unlucky enough to be able to answer them..

There were a multitude of other ways to strike an alliance, a marriage between the only daughter of a failing Queen and the desperate-for-marriage Crown Prince of a thriving land- was just an easy way out for my mother and her advisors.

She could've played every diplomatic card in the world, but a marriage of alliance was the final one she had decided to embrace.

I guess being the sole ruler of a struggling kingdom made her lose her mind, but she had always been a little off ever since my father had left us.

My father never became a King, per the ministry, it would put him above my mother in rank, who was of royal blood.

He was not.

A lovesick Prince and Queen's life never ended happily like in the romantic stories.

A marriage of first and reciprocated love didn't even save theirs. Then why would a loveless marriage of mine have a bright future?

"The Valeronian Queen has sent a carriage for you, Your Grace. She has requested that you leave tomorrow morning. Our Queen has agreed with the request, and wants you to prepare, Princess."

The words snap me out of my spiraling thoughts, and I turn to look at the servant girl like she had just committed treason with her words.

When did she even enter my chambers?

"What?!"

I stand up abruptly, causing Gianna to drop the powder compact onto the floor in surprise.

The pressed powder cracks into thousands of tiny dust particles next to my feet. Exactly like my heart, which felt like it had dropped to my stomach at the sudden announcement.

Turning to the door, I watch the girl try to avoid my gaze, telling me such news must be terrifying to her.

If I didn't know it was an order from my mother or my future mother-in-law, there was no doubt I would've grabbed her by the collar and screamed at her for her ridiculous words.

She was solely the messenger of my misfortune.

"My mother said I would leave next week. What is this- nonsense?"

Bullshit. I wanted to say, but she looked like she was on the verge of tears just by my tone alone..

I felt like a wicked witch.

"I was- informed by the Queen to tell you it has changed. The Queen of Valeron wants Your Highness to be in their kingdom for familiarization of their land and people.."

Only now do I realize the pile of responsibility and trouble my mother had thrown me into.

"Tell my mother I will prepare..."

I speak to her with a stern tone, turning back to a nervous Gianna.

"Call for the others. I want my bags packed before midnight. Tell the guards to prepare the horses and carriage, I will leave after breakfast tomorrow morning."

I could already feel my temples thumping in aggravation.

"I am going to bed, do not let anyone disturb me- unless there's an annulment! Goodnight!"

I shove the both of them out of my chambers, throwing myself onto the bed. Immediately regretting that decision when I remember I am still wearing my corset.

"Fuck.."

I groan as the fabric digs into my skin, sitting up to rip the laces off one by one.

I would probably not even sleep for a minute tonight..

How wonderful.

[moonstruckme]

Hi! I am absolutely in love with your writing! The way you portray our boys is just *chefs kiss*

Anywho, I was wondering if I could request poly!marauders x plus size reader? Maybe she is very confident until somebody picks on her and she starts becoming obsessed with dieting and stuff. (I'm struggling a lot with that rn) just a bunch of worry and comfort from our boys.

If you don't feel comfortable writing this or just the prompt I gave it's okay. Ily!♡

Hi, thanks for requesting my love! I'm really sorry you're struggling right now, I know how hard it can be and hope you're doing your best to take good care of yourself. You're beautiful just as you are <33

cw: size insecurity, behavior that hints at disordered eating

poly!marauders x plus size!reader ♡ 1.2k words

The worst part is, you know they weren’t even really trying to insult you. 

You smiled as best you could, said your thanks politely, and moved on. Moved on outwardly, that is. Inside, the words play over and over in your head, like a song on the radio that gets worse each time you listen to it. It wasn’t that they were vicious, or particularly clever, or even wrong. It’s just, you’re not used to people commenting on your body like that. 

You know you’re not skinny. So does everyone else. Neither of you typically feel the need to confer about it. Every now and again, some cruel busybody will say something, but that’s fairly easy to brush off. They’re insecure about their own looks, they have nothing better to do than fixate on strangers’ appearances, they’ve probably been on diet pills since they were twelve. You wish them well and mostly forget about it. But what’s worse is when someone comes to you with good intentions. The idea of being perceived as pitiful or wrong—really, having your physical form perceived at all—by someone who seems to want the best for you is what really hurts. That’s what makes you want to hide, to shrink yourself down until they can’t see you anymore. To become the invisible status quo. 

It’s why, over the last few days, anything skintight or remotely showy has been relegated to the back of your closet in favor of things that hide your figure. Why you’ve stopped drawing attention to yourself with colorful makeup and instead started focusing on your health. Well, your health as it presents itself externally. 

“Anyone else fancy a dessert?” Sirius muses as you sit reading on the couch, Remus reading the next book in the series beside you. 

“Um, no,” James says, holding up a hand of cards from the game he and Sirius have been playing, “you only want to go so you don’t have to stick around and lose.” 

“Whatever my other, subconscious motives may be,” Sirius says guilelessly, “I really feel like something chocolate. Don’t you, Moons?”

That’s always a safe bet. Remus looks up from his book, intrigued. “I could go for some chocolate.” 

Sirius grins. “What about you, gorgeous?”

That’s usually a safe bet too. But you shouldn’t. “Thanks, but I’m still full from dinner.” 

Sirius looks cheated, and Remus cocks his head at you. “Really? Didn’t seem like you ate much.” He’s not wrong. Remus had made the most incredible feta pasta, it was borderline heartbreaking to leave any on your plate. But you’re trying to practice restraint, and thankfully, James had happily taken care of your leftovers for you. “Did you have a late lunch or something?”

“Mhm.” 

James looks up, eyebrows furrow bemusedly behind his glasses. “No you didn’t, angel. You said you didn’t feel like lunch after we had breakfast together, remember?”

“Oh.” You nod. So what? You’d had a late breakfast, and a decently sized dinner, and why do you really need more than two meals anyway? Who made that rule? You’re a bit hungry, but your body just needs time to adjust to your new routine. It’s used to overindulging. And nothing about today means you deserve dessert. “Right.” 

Sirius wraps his fingers delicately around your ankle, smoothing a path up your shin with his palm. “Darling,” he says, and he looks distracted as he runs his fingers over the old scars on your knee, but you know him well enough to recognize when he’s keyed in, “did you eat anything today, other than breakfast and that little bit of dinner? Any snacks or anything?” 

You can’t help the little rush of pride that goes through you. “No.” 

Sirius doesn’t look proud. In fact, he’s frowning, as are Remus and James. You change tactics. “I’m not really hungry, though.” 

“No?” Sirius' voice is unsettlingly gentle. “Why don’t you want to have dessert tonight, pretty girl?”

“Because,” you say, beginning to feel defensive (though you’re not sure of what), “I don’t need it.” 

“It’s not about need, though,” James says, and why is it beginning to feel like you’re in an argument? “It’s about what you want. Do you want a little something sweet?”

“I…” Yes. The answer is yes, but do you want it more than you want to feel good about yourself? “I think what I want more is to prove to myself that I can go without it.” 

Remus’ scars shift as his face scrunches in concern. “Dove,” he says, and you can’t decide if his tone is more reprimand or pity. You don’t like either option. “Where is this coming from?” 

“I’m just…I’m trying something new,” you decide. “I want to lose a little weight, okay? Nothing crazy.” 

“But why?” James sets down his cards, looking completely befuddled. “Angel, you’re gorgeous. You can do whatever you want, but we love you just like you are.” 

“And,” Sirius adds before you can reply, “we love you most when you’re happy. I sort of thought,” he says, lowering his voice like he’s telling you a secret, “that our late-night treat runs made you happy. No?”

“They do.” You pull your legs up onto the couch, away from Sirius’ touch. “I just…I think it would make me happy to be a more normal size, too.” 

Remus looks gutted. “Honey, you…it’s your body, and you should do whatever feels right for you to be healthy, but…we love you like this,” he insists, ardent. “You’re beautiful, I mean it, and I hate the idea that you might want to change for…well, for anyone other than yourself.” 

You hesitate. You’re not actually sure who you’re doing this for. When had you become one of the people who want for you to be smaller so desperately? “You seriously don’t think I would look better if I were thinner?” You’ve never been one to put much stock into what any men think of your appearance, so you feel silly for asking, but you’re in a vulnerable state. And really, don’t all guys want a girl that looks like the love interests in the movies you all grew up with? 

James looks you in the eye, letting you see the earnestness in his as he says, “You’re absolutely lovely, right here, right now. We wouldn’t change a thing.” 

Your answering smile is oddly watery. Remus makes an awfully lovely cooing sound, leaning over to wrap an arm around your waist and paying no mind to the chub there as he pulls you into his side. “Don’t be upset, darling. You know what I bet will cheer you up?” He smiles as you look up at him questioningly, kissing between your brows. “Some chocolate. How would you feel about that?”

You let out a quiet little laugh. “Pretty good.” 

“Yes!” Sirius pumps his fist in the air, already abandoning his cards and standing up. “I knew you’d come through, gorgeous. Now I think the more pressing question is, do we want chocolate pastries or chocolate ice cream?”

“Ice cream, obviously,” James says. “Before it gets so cold out we don’t feel like it.” 

“Not all of us suffer from weather constraints,” Sirius argues. “I vote pastry.” 

“Why would you bring ice cream up if you didn’t want it? Think long and hard, Pads. Are you going to feel like a frozen dessert when you need three layers to go outside in a few weeks?”

Remus rolls his eyes at you as you follow them out the door, letting your boys continue their bickering all the way to the store.