#i do that sometimes. oftentimes. frequently. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

luminnara · 9 months ago

Text

Unheavenly Creatures III | Feyd-Rautha x reader (NSFW)

Part One | Part Two |

MASTERLIST

Requests are open!

Tags: @austinswhitewolf @aeilani @maneater17 @serrendiipty @belovedbastardremus @the-dark-dreamer25 @cauliflowercounty @mamawiggers1980 @catsinacottage @targaryen-madness @juliskopf

Warnings: group sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, mentions of cannibalism

Feyd-Rautha’s holy birthday lasted a full week. All of Giedi Prime celebrated their na-Baron, and for the nobility, that meant several long days of feasting, gladiatorial spectacles, and pro-House Harkonnen propaganda.

Within the walls of the palace, yet another banquet was being prepared, all of the extra chairs already placed at the long table in the dining hall. All of the important guests would be present for this last great feast before they began their journeys home in the coming days, and, upon Feyd-Rautha's request--demand, really--you and your fellow concubines were to be in attendance.

"Do we often receive these dinner summons?" you asked, facing yourself in a mirror as a servant ran a razor over your scalp. Though you had received two rounds of Harkonnen beauty treatments intended to halt hair growth entirely, you had woken up that morning with a soft layer of peach fuzz atop your head. After a fair amount of taunting from Feyd-Rautha, whose ego seemed to be running particularly rampant after so many days of celebration, an attendant from the Baron’s spa had come to take care of the problem, rubbing you in more Harkonnen chemicals while the others prepared themselves for the day.

“On occasion,” Yarina hissed, smoothing a beauty cream over her brow.

“I prefer feasting here, with Feyd,” Issa said, sounding annoyed. “There are always many eyes on us in the dining hall.”

“I enjoy watching the other Houses,” Yarina said. “Sometimes there is even a Bene Gesserit.”

You hummed in thought as the spa attendant finished with you, bowed, and backed out of the room as quickly and quietly as possible. She likely feared you; after all, Feyd’s concubines had been known to bite, especially when hungry. Only the day before you had watched as Yarina snapped her sharp teeth at the Baron’s mentat when he walked too close, and you had heard stories of Feyd-Rautha returning to his chambers to find that she and Issa had slaughtered a servant. Once, supposedly, they had even killed a would-be assassin they had sniffed out, though the remains were far too mutilated for anyone to determine the offender’s House or origins.

“Do you recall how I spoke of my former House allying with House Harkonnen?” You asked, turning to look at the others in their seats.

They both perked up at the question.

“They will be in attendance?” Yarina asked with a grin.

“I assume so,” you said. “Perhaps we will see them today.”

Issa twisted in her seat to better face you, the motion fluid and languid. “Perhaps Feyd will serve them to us on a platter.”

The two bared their teeth at each other in delight, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you would ever grow to become so ravenous. When they weren’t concerned with Feyd-Rautha, their cravings always turned to food, and they sometimes acted as though they were starving. You knew that couldn’t be the case; they ate at least two full meals a day, oftentimes three, with snacks sprinkled in throughout. This week, thanks to all of the feasting, they were surely not actually hungry…but they spoke of it more frequently than ever, eyeing the fresh corpses the ba-Baron left in his wake and hissing whenever he told them no.

“I think it is likely we will be asked to sit and eat quietly,” you said, testing the waters with your statement. “Don’t you? There will be so many important guests.”

“Not important to me,” Issa turned back around as she continued her beauty rituals, seeming uninterested now.

You sat and watched the two of them and wondered what they may have been like before falling into Feyd-Rautha’s service. Had they been the daughters of Harkonnen nobility, living in the palace and watching the na-Baron in the arena every other week? Perhaps they had known him in their youth, or at least Yarina had. You recalled that she had been with him the longest, though you did not know by what margin she surpassed Issa. Had they been Harkonnen celebrities? Models, perhaps? Feyd preferred to remain in the palace, and so you had never spent much time venturing forth into the capital city. Perhaps their images had been all over Giedi Prime, advertising synthetic food products. Perhaps they had both been the daughters of families with spice fortunes, or perhaps they, like you, had once been in the employ of noblewomen, and had found their way into Feyd-Rautha’s lap.

Or, you thought with a shudder, perhaps they had come from the Bene Tleilax, and they were simply some of their tamer genetically modified products. You had glimpsed the creatures kept as pets by the Baron, strange, mutated things that scurried about on too many spider-legs yet understood human speech. If Vladimir could purchase such things, then perhaps Feyd had purchased modified Harkonnen women for his own collection…though, you knew Giedi Prime itself hosted scientists and beauticians capable of making the changes Yarina and Issa sported, because they had made them to you.

You found yourself favoring the model theory, though it left room for improvement. Feyd’s darlings had a lust for human flesh that you had yet to see in any other Harkonnen. Even Feyd-Rautha didn’t partake in the same way. He ingested blood, most often yours, and you had seen him eat the prepared organ here or there, but they all acted as if you needed to consume them. You wondered if there would be lungs at this final feast.

You enjoyed lung.

As the others finished in front of the mirror, you stood, moving to the rack of clothing reserved for you. You did not know who created the dresses you wore, only that they were likely highly respected and revered. You regularly received new ensembles, and they were always simple—black, industrial, synthetic garments that matched the others’. Shortly after Feyd -Rautha took you in, you had been measured by a tailor’s assistant, a box of clothing arriving in your chambers the following morning. You often dressed yourself, but for special occasions, servants cleaned and laid your dresses out for you, and you had become rather pampered after a week of this.

Now, you stood facing a black dress, its shiny material soft and rubbery to the touch. A fair portion of the bodice was a thin, flesh-toned mesh, making it appear that the black, synthetic material of the dress only covered two thin lines stretching from your waist and up over your breasts. The skirt was long and opaque, and simple black slippers sat on the floor beneath where it hung.

You reached for it and slipped it over your head, enjoying the feeling of the stretchy fabric on your bare skin. It was smooth and without any blemishes, just the way House Harkonnen liked their things to be. Looking at your reflection now, you felt streamlined, welcoming the way the dress hugged you, the garment clinging as if it had been painted on.

Issa and Yarina had been gifted matching gowns, and when they had both finished their beauty rituals, a servant helped them dress. You should have requested—demanded—the assistance as well, you realized, but old habits died hard, and there were some things you didn’t think would ever come second nature. You were still too used to being the one summoned to help with the stately garments of your former mistress, and you continuously had to remind yourself now that you were one of the highest-ranking women on all of Giedi Prime.

“How do I look?” Yarina asked, though it was a rhetorical question.

“Divine,” Issa hissed with a grin, showing her teeth in a way that was anything but heavenly.

Yarina returned it, then looked to you. You agreed with Issa, lips stretching into a too-wide smile, before the three of you devolved into a fit of unholy giggling, the servants wincing as your shrieking laughter pierced their eardrums.

“I do so enjoy these events,” Yarina sighed, making her way towards the doorway.

“Why is that?” You asked, following.

You walked out into the main room in which Feyd’s bed sat, passing it as you trailed behind her, Issa behind you. You all three retired to the lounge area, sitting on the smooth black couches as a servant poured three glasses of a dark, viscous drink.

“The guests are fascinating,” Yarina said as she waved a hand, dismissing all of the servants. “Issa doesn’t think so. But I do.”

They quickly fled the room, shoulders hunched as they stared down at their feet. You had seen more and more of them all week, a result of the na-Baron’s birthday festivities. They were being worked round the clock, you surmised, and they were probably able to thanks to the chemical stimulants the Harkonnens so loved.

“Before I came here, i attended many dinners that my mistress hosted for the other Great Houses,” you said. “Or, I suppose, I helped her prepare for them, and was occasionally allowed to sit in. I was never so important there as I am here.”

“You’re very important,” Issa hissed, the sound coming out gentler than normal. “To us.”

“And all of Giedi Prime,” Yarina ran the back of her knuckles over your arm.

“And Feyd,” Issa added.

“What about Feyd?” A rough voice asked as the door slid open.

Your heart jumped in elation as Feyd-Rautha strode into the room. He stopped in front of the sitting area, looking over the three of you with dark eyes. He did this often; you knew he would spend hours watching you if he could, and he sometimes did, memorizing every curve, taking note of what he liked best and what he wished to change. Some of it had surprised you, and in some ways, he was far less demanding than men on other planets, including the one you had come from. In other areas, though, he was very specific, and you sometimes wondered why. He had his tastes, you supposed, and he had the means to indulge, unlike many others. You were his precious toy, a doll to be played with and modified as he pleased.

“We’ve missed you,” Issa purred, standing.

You followed suit. You would have crawled to him if you had to, but it was never a race, nor was it a struggle. You moved at the same pace as the others, and when you reached him, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, just as he did theirs, though his hand found its way to your waist as he draped himself over you in what could have been considered an embrace.

“I’ve missed you as well, m’darlings,” he murmured as he kissed you once more before letting go and moving on to Yarina.

“Do you like our dresses?” You asked.

As he leaned back, you felt his eyes rake over you. Then, he smirked, and you found yourself wishing to feel his lips upon you once more.

“Beautiful.”

And you knew he meant it, because he always did.

-0-

A servant fetched you when it was time, though Feyd seemed determined to make all four of you fashionably late, as he was too busy holding your hips down as you straddled his face to be bothered with leaving in a timely manner. Eventually, however, he had had his fill, and you were trying to ignore the slickness between your thighs as you followed him out of the suite.

The corridors were abuzz with activity, Harkonnen aristocrats and visitors alike pausing to watch as you passed. You heard whispers and saw hands shielding mouths as if that would keep their words from reaching your ears, and even if it could, you already knew what they were saying. They’d been exchanging the same shocked, starstruck expressions the entire week, their eyes glued to you as if trying to memorize every pore, every flex, every muscle. You had mostly grown used to the scrutiny of the public eye on Giedi Prime, and your skin no longer crawled when the hungry gazes of the aristocracy raked over it. your newfound celebrity fit like a glove, it seemed.

The dining hall was nearly full when you finally reached it, most of the long table’s place setting s occupied. It was rare that you ate within these walls, Feyd often preferring to take his meals in his chambers rather than with his uncle; he had never given any explicit explanation as to why, but you had always imagined he preferred the peace and time away from the Baron.

The banquet hall’s longest table, reserved for these special feasts and meetings, played host to a variety of foods, some of which you did not recognize even after all of your time living amongst House Harkonnen. You did spy, however, a platter of kidneys near another of livers, two organs you had grown increasingly familiar with as of late. They both sat before three empty chairs positioned near one end of the long, metal table, and you recognized them to be places set for yourself and your companions.

“Your na-Baron, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,” a voice announced as you followed Feyd further into the room.

The dinner guests all stood quickly while the slaves lining the walls stared at the floor. The air was tense, as it so often was within the Baron’s walls, though Baron Harkonnen himself appeared to be rather at ease; he did not deign to rise for his nephew, choosing instead to slouch in his chair and spread his arms wide in a celebratory gesture.

“Finally, you join us, nephew,” came his voice like wet stones grinding over each other.

Though you could not see Feyd-Rautha’s expression from your position behind him, you imagined the glower you knew to be there. He had been cross with his uncle all week, ever since the incident with the not-drugged Atreides slave in the arena. You could not blame him for his disdain—Vladimir Harkonnen’s gaze still made your skin crawl whenever you felt those beady eyes upon you.

Without a word, Feyd walked to the chair nearest the door, directly across the long table from the Baron, who sat at its head. You followed in line, making for the third and furthest open seat from his with the expectation that Issa and Yarina would occupy the two closer to the na-Baron, indicating their seniority. You were surprised when they both fluidly sidestepped past you, positioning you at Feyd’s right hand while they took the two further seats, conspiracy shimmering in their huge black eyes. There was no time to question them, however; the moment Feyd-Rautha reached forward and drank from his wine cup, the spell of silence was broken and the feasting began.

The Baron spoke to his nearby mentat about something too boring for you to care to attempt to listen in on, and soon, the guests began conversing amongst themselves, the huge banquet hall filled with the low, echoing murmur of their voices. As you looked around at them, you recognized the fashions of a few Great Houses and wondered if you had once played host to these very same people on your home planet. You recognized thinly-veiled mannerisms of unnerved yet fascinated tourists, some of them trying their best to avoid insulting the greatly-feared Feyd-Rautha at his own birthday feast. Their eyes had a tendency to wander, even this early into dinner, and you watched as a few of them glanced over to him while conversing with their fellows only to quickly look away once more.

You noticed how they all seemed to be avoiding looking at you, their eyes seeming to skip past your corner of the table on their way to and from the na-Baron. In your peripheral vision, you could see that Issa and Yarina had yet to move, their silverware and metal drinking cups untouched as they, too, surveyed the room. You briefly thought of the story of how they had sniffed out the assassin, and you wondered if they were attempting to do the same now. If they were, it put a damper on your plan to speak to them; you certainly wouldn’t want to interrupt their work if there truly was someone nefarious afoot. Or at least, someone more nefarious than the average Harkonnen nobility.

As you looked down the table, you spied several intriguing figures—A veiled woman stood out, her food disappearing behind her covering. You recognized her to be Bene Gesserit, a witch whom you could never hope to understand, if she was anything like the ones you had encountered in your previous home. While you could not see her face, you imagined that she was watching the room much in the same way you were, though you were certain her thoughts were far more secretive and far more conniving than your benign observations.

Nearer to the Baron, you spied Feyd’s older brother, Glossu Rabban, the Count of Lankiveil, the rainy planet Feyd-Rautha had been born on. You had often wondered if Feyd remembered his true home…though it was incredibly difficult to imagine him residing anywhere else, when he so perfectly matched Giedi Prime’s harshness.

Glossu seemed happy to be seated near to his uncle. You could hear him laughing loudly, tearing into his food as he soaked up the attention his brother’s guests were obliged to pay him. The former governor of Arrakis still harbored a bruised ego after control of the spice-planet had been plucked out of House Harkonnen’s grasp, and you found it a bit difficult to believe that you were supposed to be afraid of him. Everyone called him Beast Rabban, and perhaps you had simply spent too much time around his younger brother to buy into the nickname.

As your eyes traveled back down the opposite side of the table, you recognized the textiles of your home planet and let your gaze linger. Had you really once worn clothing like that? So many layers of warm, knit fabric that would smother you beneath Giedi Prime’s sun? You had grown so used to the fashion of House Harkonnen and the stretchy, rubbery material you so often wore now that the thought of being weighed down by such heavy clothing made your chest feel tight. The dark blues and greens of your former home looked strange to you now, and as your eyes trailed upwards to the faces of the nobles who wore them, you found that you nearly didn’t recognize them.

There they sat, the Lord and Lady, the heads of your former House. She wore her hair long, and as you studied it, you remembered how it felt to brush every night and every morning, for she would never stoop so low as to maintain it herself. He bore a naive, jovial expression, that of a man who thought himself surrounded by nothing less than friends, a man who believed he could buy anything and anyone though his House was far from the richest or most powerful. To his credit, the people nearest to him enjoyed his company, laughing and smiling at his words. What he lacked in true power he made up for in charisma.

“Is that them?” Yarina hissed below the sound of conversation.

“Yes,” you replied, finally tearing your eyes away from your former masters to survey the food in your immediate vicinity.

“Hmph.” She scoffed.

“Unimpressed?” You asked.

“Highly.”

You heard a snort of amusement to your left and glanced in its direction. Feyd-Rautha was slumped back in his chair, cup in one hand while the other supported his chin as he leaned his elbow on the chair’s arm.

“Unimpressed, indeed.” He murmured, then leaned in and passed his goblet to you. “You may need this more than I, darlin’.”

Conversation around your end of the table lulled as the dinner guests paused to watch the na-Baron’s gesture. They had all been keeping one eye on him, you surmised, speaking with their peers whilst nervously watching for any change in his behavior. His movement drew their attention and soon their gazes were fixed upon you, intense, judgmental curiosity burning into you as you steeled yourself and accepted the wine.

“Thank you, Feyd.” You said in your best Issa imitation.

Feyd offered a smirk and reached for you, his hand lingering beneath your chin as his thumb brushed your cheek while you drank. The wine—if it could even be called as such—was thick, and you recognized it to be a mixture of blood and an as yet unknown liquid that made its appearance in Harkonnen cuisine regularly. It contained spice, you knew; you could taste it, a hot, somewhat savory tinge that sent a tingle down your spine.

“Of course.” He squeezed the back of your neck for a moment, something he often did absentmindedly, and took the goblet back.

Still aware of the guests’ gazes, you turned your attention to your food. Plucking a kidney off a platter, you chewed it slowly, eyes remaining on the table as you listened to the conversation pick back up.

“From where did you acquire your concubines, na-Baron?” Someone asked.

You glanced up at Feyd to see him watching a man across from you. He seemed to be deciding whether he wanted to play nice or demand an execution take place, his jaw set as his eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. It was his holy birthday, though, and nearly the end of the celebrations, and you watched as he chose the more peaceful, talkative route.

“My darlings find their way to me on their own.” He said.

“How so, na-Baron?”

“He purchases them!” Baron Vladimir interrupted from the other end of the table, laughing loudly in a way that was not entirely free of mocking.

All heads swiveled to face him, yours included. Yarina hissed quietly, a noise of distaste. If she were any nearer to the Baron, you’d have been afraid that he would have heard and immediately demanded she be disposed of…but there, so close to Feyd, she was safe. And so were you.

Feyd-Rautha glared at his uncle, who continued.

“My nephew is a man who knows what he wants,” Vladimir said. “Nothing will deter him—and nothing is too good for my heir. That is why when he interrupts trade negotiations to demand a new plaything be included in the deal, I oblige.”

Feyd’s expression was purely sour, his cheeks hollowing as his jaw clenched. When he spoke, you heard the restraint in his voice. “And I am ever thankful, Uncle.”

The Baron gave a nod, clearly pleased with himself, and as conversation began anew your eyes drifted to the rulers of your former planet. They seemed unable to choose how they should feel—you spied smugness in their expressions alongside confusion and mild alarm. Were they suddenly worried now? Concerned for the well-being of the handmaiden they had sold without so much as a second thought? You watched as they shared an uncertain look with each other before they forced smiles onto their faces once more.

You heard a quiet hmph to your right and realized that Issa and Yarina had also been watching them, their nearly identical faces parallel to your own. Would your previous keepers even be able to tell you apart from them? Had it been so long and had you changed so much that they’d be unable to choose you from a lineup?

“You may pursue them later,” Feyd rasped, cutting into a piece of meat. “Eat now, darlings.”

Issa hummed, the sound more akin to a purr, and you obliged as well, plucking a rare lung off of a platter and chewing it thoughtfully. The conversation around you blended into dull, white noise, and as always, your focus was more on Feyd-Rautha than anywhere else.

He conversed with his guests and you occasionally felt his leg or foot brush against yours beneath the table, a reminder that he was there. You ate in silence, sometimes sharing a glance with Issa and Yarina when something stood out in the sea of voices. You could tell they were more interested in the Bene Gesserit than anyone else in attendance, their black eyes fixated on the woman they could not even see behind the veil. Why they cared so much, you did not know…so you left them to it and tried to enjoy your first large banquet on Giedi Prime.

After a final course of black, bloody desserts, dinner concluded. Feyd-Rautha left the room first and you followed closely behind, hot on his heels as he strode out into the corridor. The Baron was next to leave, surrounded by his guard, and you hovered behind Feyd as his uncle said a final happy birthday before floating away in the direction of his private spa.

Feyd-Rautha glared after him, fists clenched at his sides. “I should kill him.”

The bold statement alarmed you, but the others remained calm.

“He will not taste good,” Issa hissed, leaning her chin on his shoulder as her hands spread over his chest from behind. “So much meat, gone to waste…”

Feyd still stared at his uncle’s shadow as it retreated around a corner. “He does not deserve to be eaten.”

“Why do you wish to kill him, Feyd?” You asked, stepping out to face him and gazing at him with big, black eyes.

The na-Baron’s head snapped around to look at you, and there he saw you for what you were; his newest, freshest, most naive concubine, whose home planet was half a galaxy away and who had nothing but him and his other darlings now. Though you had settled in well and called Giedi Prime your home now, he was reminded that you were not truly Harkonnen, and you might never be.

“Do you wish to speak with your former owners?” He asked, changing the subject.

You frowned at the attempted diversion, but took the bait nonetheless and considered his question. Did you wish to see them? In the time you had spent away, you had changed considerably, not only physically but mentally as well. Harkonnen customs were less and less strange by the day, and your memories of your old home felt odd and dreamlike now. What would you gain from revisiting the people from that life? Did you desire closure? Or were you beginning to lean towards speaking with them because a part of you was still angry about their abandonment of you, and you wanted them to see what had become of the handmaiden they left behind on Giedi Prime?

“I do, Feyd.”

“…then we will call on them tonight.” He decided, taking your hand and pressing a kiss that was smooth as a sharpened blade to the back of it.

“How exciting,” Issa hissed as the four of you made your way to the na-Baron’s royal chambers.

“We have never had such an opportunity,” Yarina said, eyes alight with mischief.

“Did you see their faces at the feast?” Issa laughed, taking your hand and twisting your fingers together with hers. “They did not know how to feel, knowing what happened to you.”

“I will not accept their pity,” you growled. “I do not need it, when my life is so much better now.”

“Pity?” Yarina asked, taking your other hand in hers. “Why should they pity you?”

You mulled your next words over, unsure of what to say. Not wanting to offend them nor Feyd-Rautha, you spoke carefully. “Because of how they must see me, through their eyes.”

The harpies seemed genuinely confused, looking at each other with tilted heads.

“They must see me as a slave,” you continued.

“Are there no concubines on their planet?” Issa asked. “Do they not know what it means to be one?”

“No, they…they are married and I do not remember any concubines there,” you said, now thoroughly confused by their confusion.

“…oh, pet,” Feyd-Rautha twisted his head back to look at you, pausing in his journey back to his rooms. “…you truly do not understand, do you?”

“What? What do I not understand?” You asked, looking between him and the others.

“Call yourself what you will,” he said, raising a hand to cup the side of your neck in a possessive way, “concubine. Pet. Darling. But you are mine, whatever you are. You bear no crown, but any heir you give me would be legitimate. You belong to a Great House with wealth and power far beyond that of your old masters’, and now, in the eyes of House Harkonnen and the Imperium, you are far more important than them.”

“I…am?” You asked.

“Of course,” Yarina laid a hand on your shoulder.

“It is nost pity they will feel towards you,” Issa said. “It is fear.”

-0-

Feyd-Rautha gave the Lord and Lady of your home planet precisely ten Giedi Prime minutes to prepare themselves before the four of you arrived at their guest room. You could imagine them scrambling, forever obsessed with their image and always wanting to impress the greater Houses. At this time of night, the Lady would have already been changing into her robes for sleeping, and once upon a time, you would have been the one dressing her for this seemingly impromptu visit. Tonight, you were assisted by your own servant, who dressed you in another smooth black dress that clung to you like a second skin.

As your arrival was announced by one of the guards at the door, it slid open to reveal plain living chambers. You recalled the rooms in the guest wing from your brief time staying in your own, when what had been intended as a brief visit to Giedi Prime became a permanent move. The walls were bare, the furniture sparse, and the suite’s inhabitants looked sorely out of place amongst the brushed steel and industrial trimmings.

They appeared flustered, dressed in heavy, opulent evening wear. It would be strange to host anyone so late in the day, and downright shocking to receive the na-Baron himself, someone who could—and should—have demanded they come to him and not the other way round. Yet there stood Feyd-Rautha with his entourage, hands folded neatly behind his back, knives sheathed at his sides. You stood behind his right shoulder, facing the people you once served, looking at them through different eyes. They seemed so strange to you now, so foreign; you could barely remember how it felt to braid hair like theirs, or handle the textiles they wore. You had grown used to the Harkonnen customs that surrounded you, and the ways of your own birth house had become entirely alien.

“Na-Baron, this is quite a surprise!” The Lord said nervously as he rose from his seat.

“The feast was positively divine,” the Lady added, standing as well.

“To what do we owe such an honor?”

Feyd-Rautha simply watched them for a long moment, looking on as they quickly grew uncomfortable beneath his scrutinizing gaze.

“We are not here to speak about the feast.” He finally said.

“O-oh?” The Lord stammered. “Please, how may we be of assistance, na-Baron?”

“You recall the pet I obtained from you.” Feyd said bluntly.

“The handmaiden?” The Lady asked, glancing away from him to look at his companions. “Yes, of course.”

“It was an honor to supply a servant to the esteemed na-Baron of House Harkonnen,” the Lord added. “Would you like more? We have several with us—“

“No.” Feyd-Rautha interrupted with a glare. “I have no need for more.”

You felt your heart swell with a smug pride.

“I came to show what’s been done with your former slave,” he said.

“Oh, no, na-Baron, we of our House do not keep slaves—“

“Shh,” the Lady hissed sharply, silencing her husband as Feyd-Rautha stepped aside to reveal his darlings in full.

You stood between the others, watching from your place in line as the Lord and Lady looked at each other uneasily. When their eyes turned to you, there almost seemed to be a spark of recognition there…but when they saw Issa and Yarina, it faded, and you realized they had no clue which one was you.

“Surely she is not here with us,” the Lord said, glancing to the na-Baron.

“Harkonnen beauty treatments,” Feyd said, grinning and revealing his black teeth. “And my own strict regimen.”

“And how have you been…enjoying her?” The Lady asked.

“Ask her yourself.”

Her eyes passed over you twice. “Is that you, my dear?”

Issa hissed.

The Lady looked even more uncomfortable, and it was then that you chose to take pity on her and stepped forward.

“I must admit, I am a bit disappointed,” you said, facing her evenly. “We used to spend so much time together, after all.”

“There you are!” She exclaimed, placing a hand over her chest in melodramatic relief. “Tell me, how do you fare? It has been so difficult finding a new handmaiden of your caliber. Good help can be so tricky, you understand.”

She looked to the na-Baron as if he could relate. He offered nothing but a slight grimace in return.

“When I was informed that I was to stay on Giedi Prime, I thought the world was ending.” You admitted. “Everything I had ever known was suddenly so far away, completely out of my grasp…and I was left in the care of Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, a man whose reputation precedes him throughout the galaxy.”

“It was just business, you understand,” the Lord said.

“Business?” You asked, looking to him with your black, unblinking eyes.

“Well…yes,” he shifted uncomfortably.

“Darling, we would never have given you up for anything less than your worth,” the Lady said.

You wanted to recoil, but you held firm, your voice even when you spoke. “Only the na-Baron may call me that.”

“I beg your pardon?” She scoffed.

Issa and Yarina hissed quietly.

“Feyd-Rautha is the only one permitted to call me that.” You repeated.

“Call you what?”

“Darlin’…are you certain you do not want them dead?” Feyd interjected, one of his knives suddenly unsheathed.

The Lord and Lady both suddenly paled.

“Th-there’s no need for that!” The Lord stammered quickly. “My wife meant no harm, na-Baron—“

“Do not apologize to me.” Feyd-Rautha growled. “Apologize to her.”

The Lady looked as if she would rather drink the black sludge in the Harkonnen spa. “Na-Baron, she is a handmaiden—“

“I am a concubine,” you said sternly, mustering as much confidence as you could in that moment. “And you are a guest in my home.” You stepped forward to face her more evenly, staring at her. In the past, she had always seemed larger than life, and though you knew much more of her personal life than most on her planet, she has always been glamorous and untouchable. Now, you saw that she was simply a woman—much in the same way that your lovely Feyd was simply a man.

“Remind them to fear you,” you heard Yarina hiss quietly from behind you.

“I’m hungry…” Issa whined.

“Patience,” Feyd-Rautha muttered.

“I am the reason we are here now,” you said to the Lady. “It was my choice to come to this room and face you.”

“Why, then?” She asked, holding her chin high as she looked down her nose at you.

“So that you might see what became of the servant girl you left behind.”

“Am i to feel ashamed, then?” She asked. “We did what we felt was right.”

“You sold me.”

“Tell me, then, are you not happy here?”

“I am.” You admitted. “And I do not doubt you have lost no sleep over me. I suppose I chose to come here to see you again…to look you in the eye as an equal and ask myself why I ever thought you were my superior.”

Her face twisted then as she tried to hold herself back. Had you spoken to her in such a way while in her service, you no doubt would have received a lashing—but now, with Feyd-Rautha and two ravenous harpies mere steps away, she didn’t dare touch you.

“You were the final thing connecting me to my old life,” you said. “A part of me wanted to find out if I would miss it. If seeing you again would provoke some sort of longing inside me. But…I am very pleased to find that I feel nothing of the kind.”

“Then what is next, Lady Harkonnen?” She asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I will have your tongue served on a platter if you do not learn to hold it.”

She blinked in shock.

“I once thought you to be some great and noble creature,” you wrinkled your nose. “But you are only a person. How silly i once was, to have ever feared you, when you should be the one who fears me.”

You turned your back on her then, returning to Feyd-Rautha. He stood with the others, testing his blade’s sharpness with his own fingertips out of boredom.

“Finished?” He asked.

“We are done here,” you replied.

“Do you feel better?”

“I do.”

He brushed his thumb over your cheek, smearing dark blood over your skin. “Let us leave.”

You felt your former mistress watching you as you fell in behind him and exited the room, and you could imagine her anger and confusion. You had no doubt given her too much to dwell on for the night, but your own heart felt a bit lighter now, and any doubts you may have had that Giedi Prime was truly your home had been thoroughly snuffed out.

“I wanted to taste them,” Issa hissed.

“Exotic food is so difficult to come by…” Yarina sighed, taking your arm in hers.

“Harder to kill leaders of the Great Houses,” Feyd glanced over his shoulder. “There are more questions asked.”

“Killing them would not have solved anything,” you said.

“It would have solved my hunger.” Issa said.

“We will find you fresh lungs,” Feyd grinned. “A snack, before bed.”

You saw her return the grin, her sharp, black teeth glistening in the low light of the corridor. When she looked to you excitedly, you found her joy to be infectious, and smiled back at her.

-0-

“Feyd?”

“Yes, darlin’?”

“Will you join me in the bath?”

He looked to where the others were sleeping in his bed, a tangle of limbs, both covered in bite marks the same as you. “You do not wish to sleep?”

“Not yet,” you said, standing before him.

He offered you as sympathetic a look as he was capable of and stood, placing a hand on the back of your neck as he steered you to his personal spa room.

The door slid open to reveal the steamy bath, always prepared and heated so that it may be used at any hour. There were no Harkonnen slaves lingering near the walls, leaving the two of you alone together for the first time that day. While Issa and Yarina slept peacefully, you slipped into the oily black pool, aided by Feyd, who joined you not long after.

He sat against the wall and pulled you into his lap, sighing and closing his eyes as he relaxed. “Something troubles you.”

You turned, resting your cheek on his chest as you gazed up at him. “I have been…curious about something you said this evening.”

He cracked an eye open to look at you. “Tell me.”

“Do you desire an heir?”

“I must secure my legacy,” he answered simply.

“Then why have you not yet?”

Both eyes were open now as you looked at you. “What do you mean, pet?”

“If you want an heir, why do you not have one?” You asked.

“They cannot conceive.”

His words were plain, and yet they struck you.

“Issa and Yarina?”

He nodded once. “Many of those on Giedi Prime are not fertile. They are no exception.”

“Oh…”

“Do not pity them. They have little interest in the entire ordeal.”

“Then how does House Harkonnen reproduce, if fertility is such a problem?”

“Treatments,” he shrugged slightly. “Many infants are too weak to live. We do not have large families. Only the strongest can survive on this planet.”

“Like you?”

“Yes.” He said smugly. “And my heirs.”

“So you do want them.”

“Will you give them to me?”

You pushed back against his chest to stare at him. “Me?”

“Yes.” He said as if it were obvious. “Who else?”

“A wife, perhaps?”

“I do not want one.”

“What if you must marry for politics?”

“Then she will be a lonely wife. You three are all I want.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead and pulled you back against his chest. “You will give me an heir. In time.

“Yes, Feyd,” you sighed, pleased with your new distinction amongst your companions. “I will.”

“You know I care for you.”

“Yes.”

“I would kill for you.”

“I have seen you do it.”

“Not only for fresh food,” he said. “For any reason. I would have killed your former owners. I wanted to.”

“I thought you said it was more complicated?” You teased.

“It is. But I would have done it.”

You smiled as you melted against him. “I know you would have, Feyd. And one day, perhaps I will kill for you.”

He smirked. “I have no doubt you will, darling. Now…relax with me.”

He leaned his head back once more and sighed, and you closed your eyes, content within the warmth of the oil and blood.

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

414 notes · View notes

eelnoise · 1 year ago

Text

incandesce

zoro x afab!reader an: just some lovesick drabble because im weak in the knees for my big stinky boy. he's so cute and i wanna just snuggle w him so bad 🥺 cw: fluff :) wc: 1.1k @bby-deerling @kaizokuniichan @themushroomofdeath

The flash of the morning sun hits Zoro’s face like a white-hot light as he descends from the crow’s nest, freshly exhausted from training. Squinting in the daylight, he looks upon the deck below as it comes into clearer view – silhouettes of the crew fade into focus, and quickly does he scan the scene for a brief headcount. A slight warmth fills his chest, and not from the tide of day washing over the ship.

You’re not among them. You’re still asleep.

Zoro’s boots hit the deck with an audible thud, and heads turn to greet him. He offers a sleepy ‘good morning’ nod before heading right in the direction of the women’s quarters. No one stops him, nor are any words exchanged. They all know where he’s headed, just as they know why you tend to sleep in.

It isn’t often that he gets this opportunity – to join you for a nap. Most days he retires from the watch far earlier than any of the women awake, sometimes avoiding his own bed all together and simply napping in the nest. The odds are in his favor this time, and he means to take full advantage of the very limited time he can have with you. Only you.

No sooner does he creak the wooden door open that his heart skips a beat beneath his ribs. You’re there, just as he hoped you would be, softly snoozing beneath the sheets. Your hair is folded wildly about your face and the pillow beneath your head, and your lips are slightly parted with just a speck of drool glistening down your chin. Zoro can’t help but find you endearing, and seeing you in a deep, restful sleep does something to soften his stoicism.

He almost can’t bring himself to wake you, as the sudden shift on the mattress always causes you to stir – though you’re never soured by it. Never once do you make him feel unwanted or loathsome, always welcoming into your arms or by your side when he needs you most.

And, while not the most affectionate man, Zoro relishes in the love you give him. The good-willed and honest devotion that you deem him worthy enough to receive makes his head spin. Somehow you had latched onto his sin-soaked soul, cleansing it in your soft, practiced hands and invigorating him in ways long forgotten.

Memories that ache - that wear him down with the weight of the past, present and beyond - they all seem to slip away when he’s next to you. You’re his anchor, reeling him back from the somber reverie that so frequently plays in his mind. A light that burns bright even in the darkest of places, and somehow he always finds his way back to you. Zoro knows that real worth is wordless, actions speaking emphatically over all else.

And you show him that worth.

His worth.

Zoro kicks off his boots, practically tiptoeing his way around the bed to it’s open side – and though he knows it’s fruitless, he does make an attempt to slide in next to you as carefully as he can manage to. And you stir – as if right on cue, the sudden weight pressing into the mattress that rolls you against his chest.

A sleepy hum of acknowledgement befalls your lips, a small - yet simple - gesture of welcome to the man now aside you.

A hint of a smile etches into the cooks of his mouth as he returns the gesture with a hum of his own before curling his arm around your middle and burying his face into your hair and breathing in deeply. Your body is warm to the touch, and with it comes elation. Oftentimes he appreciates that you had cast the first stone, releasing him from the nigh-torturous, unknown feelings that he couldn’t possibly have navigated alone.

Zoro clings to you, as if magnetically attached around your body. His thumb drags along your tummy, up and down in a soothing yet natural response to being with you. He murmurs a throaty “Good mornin’” against your ear that makes you shiver with longing. Far too little do you get to indulge in his embrace, and though you’re not as tired as he is, you aim to enjoy the time regardless.

“Morning,” You reply, twisting your head just enough to see him and allowing your hand to fall atop his and entwining your fingers together. “How was watch?”

“Same as ever.” He whispers into you, feeling that familiar tranquil serenity blossoming within him. Zoro squeezes your body against him and moves some of your hair out of your face to place a series of pecks to your cheek before trailing up to give you a soft, tender kiss to your lips.

It hadn’t been easy, learning to love – but with you there, ready and willing to guide him at his chosen pace the whole way through his strained emotions. Not once in his life did he expect to feel this way, a man of action and ruthlessly devoted to his dream and to his course upon it. Zoro once saw life as just that – his own. A narrow pathway in hindsight, one fit enough for just himself at the end of all things.

Though now, the path had forked, widened, and along it do you walk beside him. Every decision, every step, every pinch of ash left in his wake has your name written upon it in dark, permanent ink. Zoro thinks with you in mind, acts with your face at the very forefront of his synapses. He’s grown to adore you, both body and soul.

Part of it terrifies him still. The thought of losing something more precious than words can explain dives deep into his core. In love, there is fear. Fear of loss, fear of weakness in life’s most pivotal moments, fear of losing one's sense of perception.

Though, there’s also hope. Hope and happiness and support and all else that comes with devoting your very essence to another. Seeing you smile or laugh brings him a peace that borders on inexplicable. The feeling of your hand on his bids him well wishes, each kiss a reminder of sanctuary. Every tangle between the sheets when he makes love to you renders him spellbound - the saccharine, honeyed taste of your skin on his tongue mixed in with those sighs and coos of pleasure that only he can hear, a song that only he can make you belt, it makes Zoro’s head spin with just the thought.

To Zoro, you’re beyond compare. No single person in his life comes even toe-to-toe with you, and as you snuggle against him, he allows himself to feel vulnerable. You’re his safehaven, a blessing in disguise that nabs him by the heart and never fails to lull him into a rejuvenating respite.

You’re home.

You’re his.

#one piece x y/n #one piece x reader #roronoa zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro fluff #zoro x reader #one piece scenario #x reader #zoro x y/n

802 notes · View notes

yushiteru · 3 months ago

Text

for you and only you

description: yushi x reader (the many privileges you have as yushi's girlfriend, fluff)

in my head, yushi is totally the type to reserve certain acts of service and leniencies for his girlfriend. not that he wouldn't do anything for his members, but he just can't seem to say no to you. while his members may annoy him or get on his nerves sometimes, these same idiosyncrasies are endearing to him when its you.

riku always likes to joke that you have yushi on a leash. not in any offensive way, of course. you guys are both highly independent individuals, with no tendencies to become overly dependent on others. but there was something about you that yushi seemed to lose any sense of hesitancy or uncertainty around.

it wasn't to the extent that if you said jump, he would jump in a heartbeat. no, it was much more heartwarming, and it was something his members caught on to very quickly, for better or for worse. for example, the other day, you were having a quick dinner with yushi, jaehee, sakuya, and riku after their practice had wrapped up and your work day had similarly ended.

circled around a small table crowded with greasy cheeseburgers wrapped in checkered parchment paper, french fries piled on with seasonings, and a handful of coke zero cans, the voices of the boys boomed over the loud pop song blaring throughout the food joint.

in the midst of the commotion, you plucked the tomatoes and pickles off of your chicken sandwich and dropped them onto yushi's plate next to yours. without missing a beat, yushi picks them up, adding them to his own burger. this exchange does not go unnoticed by an observant sakuya, who exclaims "hyung! why don't you ever let me give you my onions and lettuce?" pointing an accusatory finger in his direction.

yushi hardly blinks, silently digging into his food all the same. warmth rises to the surface of your face, trying to subtly hide behind your can of coke. but sakuya is unrelenting, "when have you even liked pickles, hyung," he sulks.

"what are you talking about, i've always liked pickles."

riku bursts into laughter, suddenly sporting a knowing grin. "ahh, i know what this is all about. sakuya, you'll understand when you grow up," he teases.

the boy in question scoffs before picking back up in his previous conversation, sparing you from any further embarrassment. you peer out of the corner of your eyes at yushi, who looks back at you as if nothing had even happened, because the both of you knew how frequently this actually occurred. yushi, who happily eats your scraps, leftovers, and unwanted food without you even asking.

another instance of what many would call "girlfriend privilege" is whenever you guys had free time of which the members oftentimes liked to spend playing soccer or basketball on an outdoor court near their neighborhood. most of the time, you just liked to be on the sidelines, preferring to watch them play and shout out words of encouragement, or sit on a bench catching up on a book.

on the days when the boys drag you out onto the court with them, insisting that it will be fun and that they won't rough house too much, you're running after them, pulling over-exaggerated fakes on them or playfully trying to smack the ball out of their hands.

there's an unspoken, but clear difference in the way yushi plays those nights. if he was just playing with his members, especially soccer, he has no mercy and bolts past them to the goal. while some of the members can put up a good fight against him, sakuya is often heard whining that yushi isn't giving him a fair chance. there's no end in sight to his boasts if he manages to score one on him.

but when it comes to you, yushi always let's you score. and not in a way that can get a little frustrating sometimes, when it feels like the other isn't even trying and giving in too easily to appease you. no, he makes it as natural as possible, picking up speed and dribbling past you when needed, but perhaps he doesn't pull out as many trick shots as he would've normally. maybe, he doesn't reach as high as he usually would to block your shot and for all one knows, he could be putting up less resistance and strength in defending your attempts at kicking the ball.

one thing is for sure, he goes all nine yards in praising you when you do score, high-fiving you in celebration, even if you were on opposite teams, and jabbing playfully at the younger ones for needing more practice. ryo would tease that he's going easy on you, but him and the rest of the members are secretly just as happy to let you win.

a/n: how cute is he 🥹 this was slightly self-indulgent hehe, i need someone to eat my tomatoes and pickles too !! let me know if you want to see more of this, i had a lot of different ideas to include, but thought it might get a little too long and wordy.

157 notes · View notes

anthonsgi · 2 years ago

Text

★’･ﾟ:｡･:*:HSR Men random bf!headcanons:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

【Note: Hello! I have decided to write short headcanons for a few men in this game [playable only, sorry Oleg simps (*_ _)人], excuse any fluency errors, English isn't my first language, and I am still learning as I go! Please enjoy, and don't hesitate to request anything; I'm open to suggestions!】

【Pairings: Dan Heng, Gepard, Jing Yuan x GN!READER】

【CW: none!】

☆〜DAN HENG〜☆

He enjoys your company even if you two aren't speaking; simply being aware of your presence near him when he's focused on something insignificant, like reading a book, relaxes him.

Definitely has a soft spot for you and lets go of his usual cold and reserved demeanor when you two are alone.

There have been a few instances of him unconsciously beaming at you as he got lost in thought, looking at your excited face while you rambled about something you're passionate about. He'd never admit to it, though, if you called him out on it.

Prefers to be the big spoon mainly because he loves the feeling of your back pressing against his chest when your breathing slows as you fall asleep.

However, he appreciates it if you ask to be the big spoon whenever he has a nightmare or one of his visions.

He has little relationship experience [renheng ＼(º □ º l|l)/], so as committed as he is to making you feel loved and appreciated, he searches the data bank in the archives for information on romantic gestures and comes across a book about the significance of pet names. After "educating" himself more, he may refer to you as "my love," "darling," or even "baby" if he's feeling particularly lovey-dovey.

Dan Heng isn't a jealous boyfriend; nevertheless, if something bothers him, he becomes touchy! Always holding your arm or wrapping his hand around your waist.

Haven only just awakened, he's such a sleepy cutie! He'd try to kiss you but miss and peck your chin instead.

☆〜GEPARD〜☆

He's an exceptionally blushy guy, and it's pretty simple to make him flustered. Just hold his hand, and he'll melt.

No matter how long you've been together, Gepard loves to kiss but will never do it without getting your consent first. His kisses are short and gentle, but they are also tender and reassuring, given that he frequently cups your face in his hands.

Even though this guy evidently struggles to keep his plants alive, he will make every effort to grow a lovely flower as a gift for you.

He attracts kids like a magnet; some of them aspire to be captains like him, and it's the cutest thing ever to see him grow nervous as they shower him with compliments and questions.

Sometimes he'd find you asleep on the couch, and he'd pick you up bridal style and carry you to bed carefully so as not to wake you.

Oftentimes, Gepard's responsibilities prevent him from spending time with you, but he always strives to make up for it.

Used a cheesy pickup line once and never tried it again after feeling the second-hand embarrassment.

He always looks for a way to impress you with his strength.

☆〜JING YUAN〜☆

His duty as General usually keeps him occupied with work stuff, so when you pay him a visit during the day, he'll light up almost instantly and he'll be in a good mood.

You have to constantly kick him (gently or with force depending on how much sleep he has robbed you of) so he can turn to the other side and stop snoring.

When writing about his day in his diary, he always mentions the instances where something reminded him of you. (Spoiler alert: the majority of his day description is him adoring your facial features).

Jing Yuan's kisses are typically quick, although if he's feeling exceptionally touch-deprived, he prefers deeper, longer kisses.

If you decide to move in with him, it will be incredibly domestic; you would prepare each other's favorite drinks and meals just the way you like them without needing to ask, and you will share each other's clothes and accessories on a daily basis.

Routine, even if secure, can be exhausting, and he finds himself trapped in one. Therefore, Jing Yuan appreciates it when you try new things with him and make him feel like he can breathe freely again. Without worrying about any boring responsibilities, just you and him spending time together. Those are his most treasured moments.

He's very protective of you. Secretly that is. It might seem that he's not that bothered by the times you may have spent a while longer on an errand or went exploring, but he's actually worried! Sometimes to the point of sending someone to go look for you, just to be sure you're all safe and sound.

Has asked you to massage his back on multiple ocassions after a particularly tiring day.

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x male reader #dan heng x reader #dan heng x y/n #dan heng x you #dan heng x gender neutral reader #dan heng x male reader #gepard x you #gepard x male reader #gepard x reader #gepard x gender neutral reader #jing yuan x you #jing yuan x male reader #jing yuan x y/n #jing yuan x reader #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x female reader #honkai star rail #honkai x reader

1K notes · View notes

normal-thoughts-official · 7 months ago

Text

In the remote recesses of the world, north even to the great Maghreb, live a people with a weird and offputting cousine.

The French, as they're called, partake in the consumption of unique, and oftentimes alarming, ingredients, such as snails, frogs, fish eggs, and, on occasion, juice made of rotten grapes.

The most surprising part of this appalling cultural norm is that it is not, as no doubt thought our readers, the result of famine or lack of resources. Although mainly known for their violent culture, in which it is widely accepted to burn other people's cars, (and, before modern civilization made its way to the region, even take off helpless people's heads with a giant cleaver called the guillotine), the French also have access to rich resources often not exploited by the modern world. One such place is the Landes forest, home to the adorable rabbit, which recently has become a choice of pet for those leaning towards the exotic.

No, the French don't eat such slimy, questionable items out of necessity; it is by choice. As appalling as it may sound, they actually consider the foods derived from such ingredients to be high cuisine, and dishes containing them can be particularly expensive in the small region's economy.

With the blessing of my editor, and the guarantee that a medical team specializing in gastroenterology would be at the ready in case of an emergency, I agreed to travel to the faraway region to sample some of the so-called "delicacies". They were prepared by real, native Frenchs, although inspected by a health expert to make sure the hygienization was adequate. I've always been an adventurous eater, but even I must admit that the prospect filled me with aprehension. Would I be able to stomach the foreign dishes without getting sick, or worse, offending our arson-happy hosts?

My anxieties were initially heightened by the conversation with the French who hosted me; as is typical in their culture, he was offputting and rude, often commenting on the mistakes I made on the weird, twisting tongue I was doing my best to emulate. Still, in the spirit of cultural acceptance and not getting my head cut off, I accepted his socially inapt behavior with grace.

I must admit that the rotten grapes were what I was most curious about. The juice derived from them, known as wine, is considered a delicacy, and there are hundreds of different types of it. In French culture, there are even people whose entire job is to appoint the correct choice of wine to go with any given food; such men and women are caled sommeliers and held in high regard by French society.

I quickly learned that the making of wine is something of an art to the native Frenchs. As my self-important host dizzied me with endless descriptions of different wine varieties, I realized I may have gotten too deep into the turbulent waters of the unique region's palate. Out of the exhausting and oftentimes confusing technical detail, however, I was able to extract an important piece of information: the extent of the rot is important in the making of wine.

That's right, dear reader: they actually prefer it when the grapes are more rotten! Spanning not only decades, but sometimes whole centuries, the French's grapes are left to rot in humid wooden barrels - a tradition that's been kept alive since the Middle Ages -, becoming thoroughly ruined so that their juice may be extracted for the making of wine. And the longer they have been left decomposing with their local fungus, the more valuable the juice is.

I was simply too curious to wait. And even more delighted to find out about yet another culinary tradition I didn't know about: the social gatherings known as wine and cheese, in which wine is paired with a variety of solid, yellow, rubber-like wheels derived from fat extracted from cows' milk - the cheese.

Such unique, foul-smelling dishes are a frequent part of the everyman French's life, being consumed by rich and poor alike in a variety of different recipes from all sorts of French subregions. Among them, I found yet another that would delight my intellect and terrify my stomach: gorgonzola. To the reader not quite as deep in diving into the intricacies of French culture, I shall explain: gorgonzola is but a piece of the aforementioned cheese, left to mold.

I could not believe my ears. These people drank rotten grapes and paired them with rotten cow fat, and they enjoyed it. What to us would be a nightmare scenario in a case of extreme poverty, and a surefire way to earn a trip to the hospital, to them was a quite enjoyable meal.

I later learned that gorgonzola is actually from a neighboring nation close to the French - the Italians. Although officially considered a different tribe, Italians share much in common with the French, including the love for wine and cheese, a quite long border, and a language derived from the same roots - the long-dead Latin, ancient language in which their holy book, the "Bible", was once written.

I am happy to report that my experimentation did not lead to hospital trips, and the most I got was an unusually long carsickness. But I have taken with me much more than the curious experience: traveling to France has helped me expand my horizons, meet new people, and connect with cultures other than my own. Although violent and offputting, the French can be quite amorous, and I was even gifted a piece of cheese from a little girl. It is not an experience I would like to repeat anytime soon, but it's made for an interesting story that helped me grow as a writer, investigative journalist, and, most of all, eater.

I can only hope my stomach has taken some good lessons out of the experience, too.

Cremilda Castanho is a writer, cat-lover, and known foodie, with a knack for finding unexplored depths of cuisine across the world. Her book, What Weirdos Eat, was a Folha de São Paulo best seller, and paved the way for culinary exploration in journalism, earning her a Pulitzer prize.

166 notes · View notes

nothing-impt · 4 months ago

Note

Oh boy! A new Hermes/Tiresias shipper! Welcome aboard!🤗

What headcanons do you have for this silly couple?

YESSSS I AM SO HAPPY I GOT INTO THIS SHIP Flying Snakes Headcanons ig: (I think I work better with my art than with my words, so I'm sorry if this looks really badly written)

Tiresias is more of a ‘receiving gifts’ than a ‘words of affection’ guy, hence the two-headed snake Hermes gifts him.

I love to think Hermes just constantly hits on Tiresias whenever he drops by to deliver souls into the Underworld, and Tiresias is either really dense or is completely unbothered by it.

Hades definitely knows about these two (people always make him out to be the villain But I would like to think that he’s really chill and lets them be together in the Underworld.) Unrelated note, Persephone ships them too.

Like @rubypet’s hc with Apollo, Apollo has prophecy as one of his domains so he’s a little pissed that Hermes is hitting on his prophet lmao.

Hermes calls the double-headed snake ‘the twins’ on purpose, usually in front of Apollo to piss him off and because Apollo doesn’t know Hermes is referring to the snake(s)? He just assumed Hermes knocked up Tiresias lol.

Because Tiresias has prophetic visions, he’s sometimes distracted (e.g, he’ll glance at a lingering spirit while Hermes is talking to him and will recall that spirit’s life) Hermes just takes it in his stride and asks him what he sees and they talk about that instead.

Tiresias tends to tell his prophecies in a roundabout way (my hc is that prophets are prevented from telling the outright truth behind what they see) so those who come to him for visions would oftentimes accuse him of misguiding them after they die (Oedipus would like to curse at him or smth everytime he sees Tiresias in the Underworld after he died)

Hermes knows that Tiresias gets disheartened by all the negative remarks (sounds like Tiresias gets a bad review on Prophetic visions lol) Especially so after Odysseus literally misinterprets his visions despite him trying his best to help the King of Ithaca cause he’s Hermes’ great grandson. Hermes would frequently give updates on how Odysseus is doing to reassure him (I personally feel prophets are used to ‘see’ the negative life-changing events in people’s lives instead of any of the positive ones, so Tiresias would be relieved to hear anything good that goes out of a hero he helps) Edit: It just came to me so I decided I'll just put it here, Tiresias absolutely hates Oedipus :)

I have a doodle I’m doing to explain more about why ‘the twins’ are called Jason and Theseus, hopefully, I’ll post it by tonight. Anyway, thanks for all the Asks, I hope y’all can understand my terrible explanations, if not my inbox is still open for questions!

#nothing impt replies #flying snakes #epic harbringers #tiresias #hermes #epic flying snakes

84 notes · View notes

skeletorrito · 2 months ago

Text

NSFW itafushi fic (wip, 18+, 4k worth of spicy smut)

For the purposes of self-indulgent smut, this is a Jujustu College AU. Characters are aged-up, but other canon events remain the same. Thanks for reading!!!

Summary:

“When I said ‘I love you,’ I meant it, Megumi. I really do love you, in every way possible.” Yuji’s grip on Megumi tightens, as if he never plans on letting go.

“I don’t believe in love,” Megumi replies, harshly, immediately, an automatic response because every time he hears Yuji say those three little words, his brain echoes back to him:

You don’t deserve to be loved.

Megumi always wakes up early.

It doesn’t matter if he’s had eight hours of sleep or eight minutes, his body never lets him sleep past 7 AM.

Yuji, on the other hand, would probably sleep until noon if didn’t set at least fifteen blaring alarms. He sleeps like the dead, which Megumi, an incredibly light sleeper, always feels a little jealous about. When they share a bed, a frequent occurrence as of late, their mismatched sleeping patterns usually don’t bother Megumi. On their days off, he’ll shimmy out of Yuji’s grasp (he was a cuddler, too, no surprise there), make coffee, and read, play on his phone, listen to music, or sometimes even crawl back into bed and do these things while watching Yuji sleep peacefully.

Today, however, they both have classes in a few hours and Megumi never wants to listen to the same siren alarm playing on repeat until Yuji finally rolls over, smacks his phone, and springs out of bed.

The problem is… Yuji’s incredibly difficult to wake. Megumi oftentimes resorts to punching him or furiously shaking him just to get any sort of reaction out of him. Violence seems to be the most effective way and it’s frustrating. Yuji doesn’t care, but tired, grumpy Megumi does.

And, well, there is one other way to get him to wake up.

Yuji likes this particular way the most.

Megumi wakes to Yuji’s stiff morning-wood pressed against his ass… which happens almost every single morning they’re in bed together.

(Megumi doesn’t really mind this, either.)

He flips around in Yuji’s weak hold, admiring the way soft sunlight hits his sleepy smile, and palms his arousal over his boxers. Yuji stirs slightly, letting out the softest of groans as Megumi teases him through the fabric. His fingers slip inside, stroking him and watching curiously as Yuji’s eyebrows pinch together.

He looks really cute like this… Megumi thinks with a soft smile, pressing a gentle kiss to Yuji’s lips. Yuji moans, still unconscious, and tightens his grip on Megumi’s waist. His hips start to roll into his hand, becoming louder and more animated yet still just as blissfully asleep. Megumi sighs defeatedly, expecting that this endeavor wouldn’t be so easy. At this rate, he’ll only give Yuji a 4-D wet dream and why would he want to wake up from that?

Prying Yuji’s hands from his waist, Megumi slides down the mattress under the duvet they share until he’s at eye-level with Yuji’s sizable erection. He yanks Yuji’s boxers down to his knees and licks a stripe up the length, his eyes darting up to gauge any sort of reaction.

Still nothing.

Groaning sleepily, unconscious Yuji rolls onto his back and spreads his legs open. Rolling his eyes, Megumi takes him into his mouth, tongue toying with the leaking tip until Yuji finally blinks awake.

“Huh?” He murmurs in a haze, disoriented and aroused, which is even more confusing for him. He feels a hot tongue flick against the head of his cock and moans loudly, pulling the covers off of them. “Oh fuck, Megumi,” he groans surprisedly, his foggy brain finally realizing what’s happening to him. Yuji weakly threads his fingers through Megumi’s soft, dark hair, and Megumi looks up at him in a heated gaze, jade green eyes locking onto honey-brown ones.

Yuji comes undone as he watches Megumi take his cock and, in return, Megumi watches him lose his mind with prideful amusement. As he’s moaning and babbling nonsense, his grip on Megumi’s hair grows tighter and pushes against his head. Cheeks hollowing, Megumi sucks and slurps with renewed fervor now that Yuji is a conscious participant in this game he initiated.

Yuji’s a talker in bed.

Sometimes it’s kind of annoying but, most of the time, Megumi finds it entertaining and endearing.

“Oh my god, it feels so good, your mouth is amazing,” he cries, his words stringing together lazily, “Oh, Megumi, yes, keep going I’m so close, fuck.” He pants as he rocks his hips up into Megumi’s waiting mouth, eyes rolling back and head thrashing against the pillow.

Megumi bobs his head in time with Yuji’s shallow thrusts, nearly choking as he attempts to take him all the way in. He pins Yuji’s hips to the bed, trying to keep him still, but it’s only wasted effort as Yuji continues to fuck his mouth with more intensity. Megumi’s eyes sting as Yuji’s cock rams at the back of his throat.

“Megumi, I’m gonna- ah! Fuck!” He shouts in warning, feeling Megumi gag around him as he comes, hard, toes curling and hips jerking. Megumi swallows with a shudder, gasping and coughing as he pulls off.

“Oh shit, are you okay?” Yuji asks with immediate concern, pulling his boxers on and sitting up quickly, resting a gentle hand on Megumi’s back. Megumi wipes a few tears from his eyes, rubbing at his throat. It’s not a bad hurt, but Yuji’s touch comforts him nonetheless.

“Aside from nearly choking to death on your cock, I’m alright,” Megumi jokes dryly with a smirk, crawling up Yuji’s body to straddle him. Yuji flushes and murmurs a sheepish apology, and Megumi leans down to kiss him softly in response. “Good morning, by the way. Took you long enough to wake up.”

“Good morning.” Yuji grins widely, all dimples, as his hands come to rest on Megumi’s thighs. “Can you wake me up like that every morning?” He asks and stretches up to kiss Megumi again, fingers sliding up to Megumi’s hips and fidgeting with the waistband of his boxers.

“Don’t be greedy,” Megumi chides playfully, returning the kiss and deepening it, his tongue swiping along Yuji’s bottom lip. Yuji notices that he can taste himself in Megumi's mouth.

He’s a little embarrassed by how much it turns him on.

“Class starts in 90 minutes, by the way,” he warns as he feels Yuji growing hard again underneath him. He grinds his own half-hard erection into him, moaning softly.

“That’s plenty of time,” Yuji murmurs into Megumi’s neck as he kisses and sucks at it. He pays special attention to the tender spot just above his collarbone, giving it a gentle nip.

Megumi stifles a moan in his throat. “Not for you, you insatiable idiot,” he grumbles, “You’re going to make us late again.” Despite his harsh words, he doesn’t attempt to climb off, and Yuji knows it’s because Megumi wants this just as much as he does. He continues to argue, but his tone is indifferent now as he comments, “Gojo won’t let us hear the end of it if we’re late for the third time this week.” He closes his eyes and sighs, leaning into Yuji’s touches.

“Eh, he’s always late to everything, anyway, so we’ll be right on time,” Yuji argues with a shrug, unbothered, because time stands still when he’s with Megumi. His fingers slide into Megumi’s boxers, taking a firm hold of his ass as he continues to latch onto the porcelain expanse that is Megumi’s neck.

“Keep it below the collar, asshole,” he snips, groaning softly and tipping his head to the side as he melts into the feeling of Yuji’s lips and hands on him.

They’re definitely going to be late. Again.

But, fuck it, because sex with Yuji is just so insanely addicting that Megumi can’t even seriously consider stopping now.

Gojo can get a taste of his own medicine for once.

They shed the rest of their clothes haphazardly and return to their original position, with Megumi sitting in Yuji’s lap and Yuji kissing on his neck, shoulders, anywhere he can reach, leaving blemishes and marks under Megumi’s neckline. He dips his head down to flick his tongue across one hard nipple, then the other. Megumi gasps and moans in response, making delicious noises that he attempts to hold back.

Knowing his chest is sensitive, Yuji exploits it for all it’s worth. He wants Megumi loud and unabashed, letting go completely, losing himself in pleasure, because that version of Megumi is his favorite version. So raw and unfiltered. No thinking, just feeling, which is so very unlike his typical icy, calculated, closed-off demeanor.

They’ve been hooking up for long enough now that he has a pretty good idea of how to push Megumi’s buttons.

Yuji begins sucking, his teeth grazing across sensitive hard nubs. Shivering, Megumi takes a fistful of dusty pink hair, attempting to pull him off. “Hey! Don’t- mm. Stop, that’s so- ah- that’s too embarrassing!” He exclaims through moans and whines, cheeks flushing bright pink and mouth agape. But Yuji doesn’t budge, despite his efforts, and continues to mouth his lithe chest.

“But you like it,” Yuji retorts between his teasing licks and bites, eyes flicking up to admire Megumi’s flustered, blushing face. “Just tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”

Megumi doesn’t respond, gaze averted, his face growing hot from self-consciousness and arousal. He still grips onto Yuji’s hair and scowls, but can’t muster up the will to fight because Yuji reads him like a book. He doesn’t just like it, he loves it, which makes him even more embarrassed. He’s achingly hard at this point, mortified that his body is telling on him like this. He writhes as Yuji takes a nipple into his mouth and sucks harder. He presses into Yuji’s hard body, their arousals shifting against each other.

A loud, surprised gasp escapes him as Yuji suddenly grabs both of them and strokes. “Yuji!” He cries, hips rocking into Yuji’s grasp desperately. Yuji lifts his head, his free hand caressing the back of Megumi’s neck tenderly, and pulls him into an open-mouth kiss. He devours him, sucking on his tongue as they smash their lips together in a lustful frenzy. He savors Megumi's moans and whimpers against his lips like his favorite meal as their cocks slide together, still slightly slick with precum and saliva.

“What is it?” Yuji pauses to murmur and rests his forehead against Megumi’s, feeling the tickle of soft bangs against his face. “Tell me. Just talk to me, Megumi. I wanna make you feel good, but I can’t read your mind.” His gaze searches Megumi’s expression, seeking anything to latch onto that might tell him what his friend is thinking.

“I…” Megumi finally starts, immediately feeling shy under his teammate’s intense gaze. His heart thumps in his throat because the intimacy he shares with Yuji is still so new and vulnerable to him, but also warm and safe and so, so good. He leans into Yuji’s ear, because somehow whispering makes it a little easier, as he says under his breath, “I want to ride you until I come and then… I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t think straight.”

Yuji grins ear-to-ear. “Yeah, that’s more like it,” he encourages, a pleasant shiver running down his spine at Megumi’s vulgar whispers. He eagerly grabs the bottle of lube from the drawer of the bedside table. Slicking two fingers, he reaches back and circles Megumi’s entrance before pressing inside, slow and controlled like he’s done this a hundred times before (Not a hundred, by far, but let’s say… a number in the double digits at least). Megumi tenses, gripping Yuji’s shoulders as he slowly pushes back with staggered, forced deep breaths. He shifts around, playing with angles, until he feels Yuji’s fingertips brush against a sensitive area inside him. He groans, pushing back harder, and Yuji follows his lead as he curls and rubs into the spot.

“Right there, yes! It’s so good, Yuji,” Megumi can’t help but sob. He wraps his arms around Yuji’s shoulders tightly as fingers pump in and out of him now. His cheeks warming at the praise, he buries his face in Megumi’s neck. Yuji slides in without resistance as Megumi bears down now, so he eases another finger in, stretching, massaging. Megumi whines, “I can’t wait anymore, please, let me put it in.” His eyes flutter closed, melting into a puddle against Yuji’s solid frame, bucking his hips and shuddering at each pass against his prostate.

“You’re so cute when you beg,” Yuji comments into Megumi’s neck with a wide smirk, pulling his fingers out slowly.

“Shut up, or I’ll kick you out,” Megumi grumbles an empty threat in response, which only makes Yuji smirk wider. He pours more lube on his palm, stroking himself hastily. Megumi watches him intently, eyes half-lidded with lust, and unconsciously licks his bottom lip in anticipation.

Megumi has fooled around with guys before Yuji, closeted jocks in high school, random guys he met online (mostly disappointing experiences, but experiences nonetheless), but Yuji was on an entirely different level above the rest. Though this was his first sexual relationship with another man, Yuji learned extremely fast. He always put in the maximum amount of effort to please Megumi. It never stopped at just one orgasm; “quickies” did not exist in their situationship. He just kept giving and giving and giving until it got to the point where Megumi felt like his soul was being sucked out of his body through his dick.

And it was exactly what he wanted.

Yuji was everything he needed him to be: sensual, strong, caring, open-minded, and, well… big.

Actually, huge.

Bigger than Megumi had ever witnessed in the flesh. It was startling at first, seemingly impossible too, but now, even just thinking about Yuji’s massive cock makes him incredibly, shamefully horny. Megumi would never identify himself as a size queen but, damn, does it make a difference.

Because when you get a taste of Wagyu, do you ever really want to go back to regular beef?

So when Megumi sinks himself onto Yuji’s erection, the noises that tumble out of him are throaty, unavoidably loud, and pornographic, and Yuji absolutely loves it. Warm hands rest on his thighs as he adjusts to the feeling of being stretched and filled. He clings to Yuji’s shoulders tightly as he grinds and rolls his hips, his swollen arousal slipping against Yuji’s abs as he does.

“God, that’s so fucking good. You’re squeezing me so tight,” Yuji groans, a deep flush spreading across his cheeks. It takes everything in him not to thrust, but he’s patient and aware. He kisses Megumi’s throat again, murmuring sweet nothings that encourage Megumi to start moving with more intention.

Once he finds the perfect rotation of his hips, and the deep pleasure within him swirls throughout his body, his busy brain shuts off and he lets lust take over. Bouncing his hips now, he drives the head of Yuji’s erection against his sweet spot until he’s nearly incoherent, moaning Yuji’s name on repeat.

Like a puppy wagging its tail, Yuji babbles excitedly, “You like that, huh? Fucking yourself on my cock, using me like a sex toy. Feels good, doesn’t it?” He leans back for a better look at Megumi’s flushed expression, so cock-drunk and bleary, with his pretty lips hanging open and dark hair sticking to his delicate, glistening face.

“Oh god, ye-yes, Yuji! I love it!” Megumi sobs, digging his nails into Yuji’s shoulders as he slams himself down. He’s trembling, teetering on the edge of release, seeking any sort of friction on his neglected arousal. “More, I need… deeper- ah!”

“God, you’re so hot like this. Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you need, baby.” Yuji’s grip on Megumi tightens as he thrusts up to meet his movements, driving himself up as Megumi pulls himself down. Megumi’s cries of pleasure vibrating through him with each movement, he hooks an arm around his thin body so he can reach between them and stroke Megumi’s leaking erection.

That drags Megumi over the edge almost instantly.

“Yuji- Oh god- I’m-,” he yells in broken phrases, his hoarse voice cracking as he spills himself all over Yuji’s knuckles and stomach. His whole body tenses and shakes, riding the wave of his orgasm, and then, he lets everything go.

He’s lulled into a euphoric state, chest heaving, burying his face in Yuji’s hair as he catches his breath. It smells like sunshine and coconut shampoo.

It smells like home.

But Yuji isn’t done. Of course, he isn’t.

He’s Yuji Itadori, and his stamina is immeasurable.

Yuji suddenly flips them over, never managing to pull out, and folds Megumi’s body in two as he hoists his legs over his shoulders.

Megumi gasps, his face bright pink in this vulnerable position, as he protests weakly, “Wait- Yuji, wait I just-”

“I’m sorry, Megumi, I’m sorry, I just can’t wait anymore,” Yuji whines as he presses in, deeper than he’s ever been, and kisses Megumi sloppily, testing the limits of Megumi’s flexibility. “Just- just slap me if I get too carried away, okay?” Yuji moans into his mouth and grinds his hips harshly, and Megumi groans gutturally in affirmation.

Yuji doesn’t know his own strength, sometimes.

And most of those times are in moments like these when he’s totally about to lose his mind and fuck Megumi like an animal.

His hips snap into Megumi with an unreal amount of force, and Megumi forgets he knows how to breathe. As requested, Yuji fucks him so hard, he no longer forms coherent thoughts. He delivers brutal, punishing thrusts deep inside of him at angles he never knew existed, and it’s unlike anything he’s ever experienced before. The overstimulation is bordering on painful, but the pleasure and bliss he feels being so thoroughly destroyed by Yuji’s cock clouds his mind. His brain screams at him, more, more, more, so greedily, he feels like he could die.

Among all the ways he’s fantasized about dying in his lifetime, being fucked to death by Yuji Itadori is now moved to the top of his list.

Yuji is on his mouth, taking all of his air, and he melts into the mattress underneath him. He wants to savor the moments when he forgets who he is or what responsibilities he has on his shoulders.

Because in these moments, it’s just him and Yuji feeling good together.

And that makes his life worth living.

Yuji groans into his mouth, his pace quickens, and Megumi knows that he’s close when he starts saying anything and everything that comes to his mind.

“Oh fuck, Megumi, it feels so good, you’re so good, oh god, I love fucking you,” he strings together in choked gasps and moans. He’s buried so deep, hitting all of the right places. Megumi doesn’t need a hand to get himself off because the assault on his prostate is enough.

And then, all of a sudden, it just… stops. Too quickly, too short.

“Oh shit, are you okay?! Why are you crying?!” Yuji looks at him with fear in his eyes, pinched eyebrows and all. Megumi gazes back, dazed and stupid because, honestly, he didn’t even realize hot tears were running down his face until now.

He can still feel Yuji’s cock throbbing inside of him as he starts pulling out.

“It’s just a reaction, it’s good, I’m so good, Yuji,” he breathes in response quickly, trying to reassure his worried friend, also trying very desperately to get off. “Please don’t stop, I’m so close, please,” he begs and clings to Yuji, tears still falling.

His thumbs swiping away the tears, Yuji’s voice is soft and gentle as he replies, “Okay, okay, anything you say.”

Yuji pushes inside of him with one last, deep thrust, and Megumi climaxes with a scream that leaves his throat raw. Yuji feels the quake of his orgasm clenching down and he follows suit, coming inside as he says it.

The thing that lives between them that they never address.

“I love you.”

Megumi’s stomach clenches in contrast to his jello limbs when he hears those words. Those three little words that sometimes slip out of Yuji’s mouth and give him a spike of anxiety Every. Single. Time. He hears them uttered. And then it slips away, fading into the background, pushed down deep, passed off, and dismissed as Yuji being “in the moment.” He doesn’t bring it up. Yuji doesn’t bring it up, either, because he knows he won’t hear it back. At least, not right now. Not yet.

Because Megumi holds onto a firm, stubborn belief that he can’t possibly love and be loved.

He doesn’t even know what that means.

It’s just… not his reality, not something made for him.

So Yuji waits and tries to enjoy right now.

Yuji collapses on him like a weighted blanket, comfortable, heavy, and warm. They lay for minutes, unmoving, spent. And then Yuji grows restless.

He pulls out slowly, pushing Megumi’s hair away from his face. “Hey. You good?” He kisses him softly, sitting up on his heels. “I’m sorry I didn’t think to pull out, I got a little carried away…” He rubs at the back of his neck, an embarrassed smile on his face.

“I really don’t give a shit right now, Yuji,” Megumi responds in an exasperated tone, seriously considering swallowing his pride, skipping class, and saying he’s sick because holy shit, Yuji is actually going to kill him one day. They definitely can’t do this on mission days for this very reason.

It’s not even 9 AM, for fuck’s sake!

Yuji chuckles and stands to grab a water bottle and some tissues to bring Megumi. “Should we shower?” Yuji asks as Megumi haphazardly cleans himself and chugs half the bottle immediately. He doesn’t move much, his entire back screaming at him right now.

“Just lay with me for a minute,” He requests with a sigh and peeks at the clock on the nightstand. They have about… twenty minutes? Whatever, he doesn’t care. He’s still in an apathetic, oxytocin-laced haze as Yuji snuggles next to him, pulling him into his arms. Megumi nearly slips back into sleep during Yuji’s warm embrace for about ten minutes. Then, Yuji’s loud alarm rips them out of the moment.

“Oops, sorry.” Yuji scrambles to shut it off, and Megumi sits up with a wince, rubbing his lower back.

“Fuck, Yuji, it’s too early for this.”

“Sorry, sorry, let me get you something.”

“It’s fine, I’ll be good after a shower…”

They chat as they pull on random, discarded clothes to walk to the bathrooms.

Megumi throws open the door and nearly bumps into a tall figure just standing in the hallway, arms crossed, a smirk plastered on his face.

Oh, fuck, no, no no! Not him Definitely not now!

“Gojo-sensei! Hey what are you-” Yuji starts cheerily, but Megumi interrupts quickly.

“Why are you lurking out here? How long have you been standing there?!” He scowls, flush creeping up on his cheeks.

Gojo flashes a toothy grin. “Well, to be honest, Megumi, I heard you screaming from down the hall and I was a little concerned at first… but then I heard Yuji’s voice and figured it might be better not to knock, just in case. Don’t want to interrupt. That would be rude, don’tcha think?”

Megumi is mortified. His eyes are like angry, green saucers.

Yuji is behind him, also very pink in the face and unusually quiet.

“Well, now that you’re both finished,” Gojo continues, laughing dryly, “I just wanted to stop by and let you know that class is canceled. Sorry for the short notice, I just got pulled into some business. But, you three have a mission tomorrow. Here, check it out.” He passes them the reports to review and turns around sharply, giving them a quick wave. He adds in, mischievously melodic, “Better take it easy tonight, boys. Call me if you need anything.”

Megumi wishes for death. Preferably by Yuji crushing his pelvis, but honestly, anything will do at this point.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #itafushi #itfs #fushiita #yuji itadori #megumi fushiguro #fanfiction #jjk smut #jjk fanfiction #smut #so much smut lol

41 notes · View notes

eldritch-spouse · 2 months ago

Note

Hey Pinnie!

If this question isn’t something you’re interested in answering I understand (or if it’s been answered before; I looked and couldn’t find it, but I may have just missed it), but I’ve wondered about it for a while;

I know Admin is designed to be as blank a slate as possible so the reader can insert themselves into her. That’s totally understandable, and a great system. But what about when the POV isn’t from Admin’s perspective? Like when the reader is Charm, or one of the TCE boy’s obsessions, or ESPECIALLY back during the “Gifted” series, and Admin is being interacted with as a character in her own right?

Do you have any physical traits you imagine her with when she’s a separate character (even if they’re vague, like “short” or “on the larger side”)? What about personality? There have been many iterations of Admin who act very differently- some kinder, some crueler, some more brainwashed while others are less- are any of those ones you consider more “canon” than the rest?

I ask mainly from a place of liking to write characters into this world that aren’t Admin, but do interact with her. I just wanted to know anything about the character of Admin before having a separate self-insert interact with her.

Don't worry! I can go into more detail if you want.

This might get long.

Physically, Admin as her own character looks like this. Though I don't necessarily mind if people want to put slightly different spins on her. She has the height of your average woman, appears to be somewhere in her 20s-early 30s, and is described as "doll-like" at times.

In self-insert!Admin asks, personality will vary according to the energy being used by the asker, thus creating the diversity you mention.

Psychologically, a lot of her attributes as an individual are overshadowed by her crazed, cultish devotion to Krulu. She lives and breathes for this siadar, and it's the most prominent aspect of her entire being. Who she was before is irrelevant. She comes off as secretive when, in reality, there's very little to hide from her part.

Admin is a composed, calculating and oftentimes cold person, who precedes most of her actions throughout her day by asking herself "Will my Lord approve of this?"/"Is this what my Lord asked of me?"/"Am I being productive to The Clergy's Eye?". Her morals, sense of empathy/sympathy and habits are entirely conditioned by the will of another being who she is unconditionally dependent on. Even her posture can vary wildly depending on what she's been ordered to do.

It's worth noting that, although coming off as apathetic and detached frequently, she's not incapable of friendliness or genuine affection, seen in the way she acts towards staff. In her mind's eye, anyone who devotes themself to Krulu is worth much more than the average Joe, and is deserving of care from her part. She considers the staff her closest allies and friends, seeking to reward them for their continued service. However, any tenderness she shows to staff is accompanied by ruthless punishment when considered just or ordered upon her. Admin views punishment as a positive element of her dynamic with the staff, believing it strengthens their bond to her and Krulu.

All relationships she has are marked by some kind of power imbalance, to the point where she might not tolerate being on the same level as someone else. It disorients her.

Some people have asked if Admin is in a romantic relationship with all the staff, and while I enjoy writing that sometimes, it's more probable that Admin doesn't consider any staff member her lover, but that she will use sex and romantic gestures as tools to further secure them in their vows of subservience to her Lord. This isn't to say that it's a chore for her, Admin is a monsterfucker and derives enjoyment from these encounters, which is separate from the euphoria of serving Krulu's will.

In the future, Admin, Belo and Krulu will form the closest thing to a couple in this dynamic. Though Belo will always view himself as inferior to both Krulu and his Lady.

Admin is considered creepy by more than a few people. This comes not from an appearance standpoint, but rather the way she tends to "space out" blankly from time to time. She's not truly distracted, more than likely having a conversation with Krulu. Other factors that contribute to her creepiness but aren't exclusive to her are the way she keeps her calm in the most chaotic of situations, the occasional manic breaking of her cool when she's brought to hysteric states (more often than not due to perceived rejections from Krulu or someone prompting her to lovingly rant about him), and the total indifference to how Krulu may choose to alter her current shape to his liking.

Her indifference towards what happens to other humans inside TCE is almost self-explanatory given her earlier description, though it's worth stressing again that she mirrors what Krulu thinks here too.

You don't feel bad about what happens to those of your kin when they're brought inside The Clergy because Krulu has helped you see the bigger picture. Because you're mentally distant enough to not even think of yourself as human anymore. Krulu certainly likes to exalt your nature as the only good lesser out there, the best of them all- [...]

Being that Admin has no true sense of identity which is separate from Krulu, rejection or outright being discarded by him wouldn't just drive her immediately insane, it would cause her to give up on life. Her purpose is to be his, and if Krulu sees no more use in her, then Admin failed, and her life is pointless.

There's nothing to return to because there's nothing left of her. She doesn't recognize her family, she doesn't truly remember where she's from or what she did before all this. The vague pieces of her past that remain are inconsequential experiences, Ludwig and his brothers. She acknowledges Ludwig has unresolved feelings towards her but doesn't care to feed them, because the past should remain the past- And seeking it out would get in the way of her current life.

#general tce #tce general #spacekitty309

37 notes · View notes

ghoulfuckersincorporated · 6 months ago

Text

Joshua Graham (Fallout: New Vegas, Honest Hearts DLC) NSFW Headcanons 2

(A follow up to this post from the other day because I've been continually plagued with thoughts about this man for the last few days...)

Terrible at dirty talk. He isn't incapable of saying things that you'll find erotic, things that'll turn you on, but intentional and explicit sexual talk is not a strength of his. Doesn't curse, nor does he really use crude nicknames for various body parts or sexual acts. The most you'll get out of him a lot of the time is a series of commands. The words "cock" and "cunt" do exist in his vocabulary, but they only slip out once in a rare while, usually when he's already turned on beyond rational thought, and you can always tell he's a little embarrassed to have said either of them once he's calmed down again.

Handsy when you're alone, and rather aggressively so. He wants you to constantly have his touch on your body fresh in your mind, so the moment you two leave camp or everyone retires for the evening he's teasing you physically every chance he gets. Pretty good at making a lot of his touches seem accidental, but oftentimes he fully abandons that pretense and lets it be fully known that he's intentionally trying to rile you up, which only riles you up more. His favorite move is to saddle up behind you and slowly slide a hand into your pants, playing with you until you literally can't stand properly before helping you back to your feet and going about his business.

Not the most adequate at romance due to his discomfort with the vulnerability it requires. Holding your hand and quoting Song of Songs is about as romantic as he gets face-to-face. Better with gestures that don't require him to perform them while you watch, but he's just not very traditionally romantic overall. He had a family that showed him a lot of love and care when he was young, but there were many years where the main forces in his life were violence and lies. That history doesn't exactly lend itself to poetic thinking, but he does try if you tell him that it's what you want. Will occasionally give you a bundle of flowers he picked, or a small tchotchke he found that he thinks you'd enjoy. Will also make frequent bids to get you to spend time with him. He isn't without ways to show he cares about you, but many of them won't be ways you're used to. He can be a tad more lovey-dovey during and after sex sometimes, but it requires him to be both relaxed and in a very good mood, conditions which are rarely both met at the same time.

Likes to think he's above thinking with his dick due to his impeccable self-control, but you quickly prove to him that he's not as infallible as he believes himself to be. This man would do a lot, and I mean a lot of things to see you on your knees with his cock in your mouth, and you're more than eager to use that knowledge against him. If he's upset with you, he'll do his best to avoid a situation where you can do so, because he's quite embarrassed at how easily he folds the second you tug on his fly. Scolds you for being such a debauched whore the first time you swallow his load, though soon he's all but making you swallow every time.

I spoke a few days ago about how I firmly believe Joshua is in the middle of becoming a ghoul, which is why his injuries from years prior "won't heal". The truth is that the burns have long healed; the sloughing and blistering in his flesh now is because he's in the middle of a long, painful transformation process. Finally exposing him to a little bit of radiation and demonstrating its ability to ease his pain will make him incredibly grateful; having grown up in the post-war world, he's always been taught to avoid extra radiation as much as possible, to avoid contact with questionable foods and stay out of the rain, and it would never occur to him to treat these things as therapeutic (largely because he's hesitant to accept what he's becoming).

Finally having a way to properly manage his pain will raise his spirits noticeably, at least relatively compared to how much he panics about what his new status says about his soul. But it'll also blow the lid straight off the Pandora's box that is his often-neglected sexual drive. Be ready to go from only being able to touch him once in a while when the wind blows right to him actively pursuing and propositioning you multiple times a week. He'd be thrilled to have the energy to fuck you the way he's always fantasized about.

#joshua graham #malpais legate #caesar's legion #fallout new vegas #fnv #honest hearts dlc

69 notes · View notes

sweetstarart · 11 months ago

Text

40 Wallace Wells Headcanons!!!

He loves the band gorillaz! His current favorite songs are Dare, Dirty Harry, Rock The House and 5/4

He used to animate and draw in college but he hasn't really picked it up since then

He and Scott don't have much closet space, so they put some of their clothes in a kitchen cabinet. Scott is very scared Ramona will open it one day

When he eats burger He takes the pickles off and saves them for last. He does the same thing with shrimp pasta and also likes it most when there are 5 shrimp left over to eat. Scott thinks this is weird.

He's quite a powerful psychic, but since he's a beginner he has no idea how to utilize his powers. In the future, Old Wallace becomes one of the most powerful psychics in Toronto

Old Wallace's hair turned grey after what him and Mobile simply refer to as a "Psychic Mishap". This same mishap lead to him also needing very strong prescription glasses

He has 5 favorite colors, Green, Pink, Black, Teal and Red. If you ask which is his favorite, he'll usually cycle through 3 of those options before telling you he doesn't have a favorite

He scratches his knuckles when he gets nervous

He keeps his hands behind his back while doing this so people are less likely to notice

Sometimes he taps his fingers instead

Starting book 2, He's been taking French classes. He likes to say dumb things in French around the house that don't apply to whatever they're talking about, Scott is none the wiser

He likes turtles!

Although Wallace sometimes kicks Scott in his sleep, he can actually be fairly affectionate sometimes if he's feeling happy or lonely. Sometimes he hugs Scott in his sleep

Strangely enough, he doesn't do this to mobile until a few years into their relationship

Wallace used to have braces and acne in high-school. It is one of the very few things he's insecure about

He constantly forgets Young Neil's name and swears its either Francis or Dennis

Him and Other Scott have known eachother since they were kids but only became friends in high-school, when Wallace would stay over at his house from time to time

According to Scott and Other Scott, seeing Wallace win a drinking game is one of the most horrifying things they've ever seen

His record is 19 beers in 5 seconds

Oftentimes He wears a variety of Bracelets on his arm. His sweater usually obscures this, but they can be heard clanking together when he runs. When asked why he does this, he says he's "Matching with a friend"

His birthday is July 4th

He ran away from home during high-school, leading to him crashing at his friend's houses until he finally got an apartment

He frequently stayed with Scott, Other Scott and Roxy (until they stopped being friends towards the end of high-school)

Like the anime said, he let Scott crash at his place and he never left. At first, he figured since Scott let him stay over a week once, it only seemed fair to do the same. Soon a week turned into a month,but he couldn't bring himself to simply tell him to leave

He's somewhat of a pushover, but is too prideful to admit it (or embarrassed... who knows!)

He has tons of pride merch that he saves specifically for the month of May. Not June, because he "likes to stand out" (It's actually because when he started doing this, he got the month wrong)

He won a Ball point pen from a high-school drinking game. He calls it his most "prized possession" and he keeps it in a jewelry box alongside his bracelets

Scott is listed as "The first guy you should call if I ever get drunk and pass out bc he knows good and well he owes me a favor" on a list his frequent bartender asked him to make (Her name is Leni btw)

He and Gideon (the cat) would actually get along pretty well if they ever met

He and Gideon (the man) would not get along very well. But Wallace would find him extremely attractive in secret

He finds most of Ramona's exes attractive with the exceptions being Roxy and Kyle katayanagi

He passed his driving test while completely drunk. He woke up the next day and had no clue how to drive and couldn't even remember doing it until he found the license in the kitchen sink

He's had tons of flings, but never had an actual boyfriend until he met Mobile

He is so gay, that he litterally pukes rainbows

He thinks Stephen is hot. His only reason for not pursuing him is the fact that Scott made him promise to never make out with his friends

His favorite food is shrimp Alfredo

The reason Wallace makes bacon so often is because he bought it in bulk once as a dare from one of his friends. No clue what kind of bacon it was, but it expired a year from that day and the bottom shelf of his fridge was packed full of it for months

He always loses at rock paper scissors

He knows how to play piano

He has Hayfever

And... that's it! Except not really, I actually have way more!

But thats all I'm posting for now...

Thanks for reading!

111 notes · View notes

iwoulddieforher · 9 days ago

Note

Here’s an ask! (For Casey x Alex obviously lol)

You’ve mentioned a couple times Casey tends to be self deprecating. How does Alex support her?

When/how does Alex realize Casey uses the batting cages/gym as an outlet (and takes it too far sometimes)? How does she handle it?

Oh! And while I’m on firsts! How about the first time Alex sees Casey in one of her shirts that say Cabot? (Loved the stealing clothes stuff btw!)

Thank you so much for the ask <333 I LOVE ASKS I LOVE TALKING GRAAHHHHH

This got hella long!!! Warnings for discussion of self harm, self hatred, blah blah blah and also implied sex below.

Have this picture of upset Casey (fittingly for what I ramble borderline incoherently about here) so the reply doesn't seem so short above the divider

It's always difficult for me to write more comforting interactions between the two, because as much as it feels natural to make them comfort each other to a really high degree, I want to keep the characterization provided by the show as closely as possible and thus despite my intrinsic urge to project the way I personally as an author want someone to treat me if I was in the high-stress scenario these two find themselves in, the reality of it is overt comforting probably would not work well on either of them. They're both strong, independent and emotionally resilient women- and the flaws they have oftentimes probably could not be directly addressed or they'd just withdraw and become defensive.

Thus, since Casey slips self-loathing comments into casual conversations, it always comes off more as a wry joke, and that's why other people such an Olivia or Elliot just assume she's poking fun at herself or venting frustration. Alex, too, initially perceives similar, but then she starts registering Casey's 'tells'. The way her hand flexes as though she wants to bite the fingernail on her thumb and has to consciously hold herself back from doing so, the way she refuses to make eye contact with anyone and if she is forcing herself to do so anyway her gaze is very blank because she's not actually looking, the angle of her shoulders and collarbones in relation to her spine- stupidly specific, intricately tiny things in Casey's body language that show, no, she's actually really stressed. When the correlation between these minor actions and Casey's comments jumping to a more frequent pattern emerges, Alex realizes this is actually an issue and although Casey conceals it by jesting she's being dead serious, she does believe she's unworthy of what she has or incapable or whatever else negative Casey believes about herself.

Since noticing it at all used such attention to detail and the actions are so minor they're unexplainable, Alex realizes that if she approached this issue head-on Casey would probably do a wonderful job at gaslighting her into believing she was making up problems, so she doesn't. Instead, she simply begins peppering praise and reassurance throughout daily interactions, enough that Casey realized it had increased but not much that she'd grow suspicious. Little things, like staring at Casey's figure for a little bit extra long so Casey would notice Alex was admiring, making sure to smile down at the legal notes Casey had asked her to review so when Casey studied her face intently while Alex read she'd know Alex was beyond proud of her, or just straight on whispering compliments into Casey's hair when they passed eachother in hallways.

Eventually, she did see Casey's deprecating comments decrease, and instead when Casey was stressed she subconsciously sought out Alex because she knew she'd find gentle praise and reassurance from her when Casey felt as though she was lacking.

I think your second ask is somewhat asking for a continuation of Softball to the Ribs (Kiss it), so I'll just talk about the storyline I would've written had I decided to make a next part (which I won't, all my fics exist solely as one-shots);; Alex finds out because Casey did tell her in the bathroom that it was a softball, she just didn't know the details of how the injury occurred. I think Casey would never tell her, Alex would find out from something like Life360/Find my Phone since it would make sense to me that at some point they start sharing locations due to the nature of their job. Casey vanishes for random hours at a time when she's grappling with heavy caseloads and Alex checks it to find her location as being at the batting cages. The first time she sees it she does nothing, she just makes sure a warm bath is already all set up for her when she comes home and drops by an Apotheke (what the hell is Apotheke in English????? nOt my language) to pick up muscle rub and then pretends she's initiating sex as an excuse to massage it into her. Casey is nonethewiser.

Eventually, though, when Casey has been gone too long or it's happened back to back on multiple days, Alex goes to the batting cages and sort of just sits in the corner with her legal notepad and despite being uncomfortable in the weird sporty setting proceeds to try to work there. Her presence is grounding for Casey and it makes her want to push herself less because she doesn't want Alex to watch her get hurt- and when Alex gets bored of faux scribbling random shit she just starts being the one who controls the batting cage so she can press the button to stop it if she thinks it's going too far.

Self-harm is a very difficult issue and I wrote Casey to be using exercise dependence as a means to do it, and I have a concern with many fics in which a character's romance causes them to suddenly lose interest in what is a destructive coping method, and I think at least in my experience that's unrealistic. Self harm is wildly addictive and Casey is dependant on this to make her feel as though she's coping with stress she otherwise can't, and although Alex would obviously love to step in and pull that feeling out of her, that's just... not how life works, most of the time. If it was something like cutting or burning one self, obviously that's an entirely different story, but where the line between healthy exercise and an overt dependence that leads to self destruction ... that's hard to differentiate at times. What athlete hasn't accidentally gotten injured? The same story could exist in which Casey uses exercise as a healthy method to deal with stress (literally in the show that's what it is.) and the whole thing happened by genuine accident if it wasn't for the fact Casey simultaneously wasn't eating. If her ribs weren't visible in that fic Alex probably wouldn't have known something was seriously wrong. But I wrote Casey as intentionally putting herself in positions in which the risk for it is very high, and not caring for herself after- but how could Alex read Casey's internal dialogue and draw the line somewhere? It's complicated.

Alex focuses, then, on fostering a nurturing, loving environment and accepting every part of Casey as she is.

She can't directly stop Casey from participating in sports but she does ensure Casey eats and sleeps to a healthy degree and if she realizes something like Casey skipping meals more than is normal for people with inconsistent work schedules she'll do something to make sure Casey gets the care she needs.

Eventually, through this environment and Alex's comfort, Casey can build the emotional skill set required to cope with stress adequately - that's the ultimate goal, because even if Alex did somehow twist exercise out of her grasp, there's always the possibility something in their relationship would break and Casey would fall straight back into it. Alex is smart enough to avoid that possibility.

Finally, the first time Alex realized Casey was wearing something of her's was one of the first times the accidental swapping of blazers occurred that I described in the other post. Alex had stopped by Casey's office with food during a lunch break and while they ate Casey extended her arm to reach for something, and Alex realized her name was on the sleeve. Cabot suddenly becomes very bothered and jumps Casey's bones the second they're somewhere more private because holy shit does the idea of Casey being her's and similarly labeled do something for her.

#calex #casey novak #alex cabot #casey novak x alex cabot #svu

23 notes · View notes