#just make it offish

[theosconfessions]

List 5 facts about a favorite sim of yours, and send this to 10 simblrs whose sims you adore ♥♥♥

thank you for the ask, lovey! i could talk about these babes all the live long

Blake Donovan [Stephens]

Blake sings his bb boy,teddie, to sleep everynight. He keeps mentioning how he should give up football for a singing career but footballs the thing that keeps their mortgage payments since Rivs a stay at home dad. his hearts just not in the game anymore. i think if he could spend all his time with his kids he would. and hes always been that way.Nellis been the centre of his world for six years now. and now he has his son hes even more I WANNA BE HERE ALL THE TIME-ISH.

Blakes had a crush on Riv for a long time even before they became friends. Robin didnt miss a beat and still makes fun of him for all the puppy dog eyes

Scarlett was his friend first thanks to their film interests in school. [which makes him an asshole times 4] I think he misses that. he'll bring his phone up and pull up her name and then go naw

Although he is close to his parents he always considered the stephens house more his home. dusty out here dad-ing everyone

Hes going to re-propose to river.the right way. ;) they may have been married for four years by now but he wants to give his boy a wedding.

[chloesimaginationthings]

I don't know why, but, I kind of see your game Vanny as a disaster bisexual

VANNY IS THE QUEEN OF DISASTER..

[redcamellia13]

i feel like i should interact with you more than i do but. i have no idea how

you shouldnt worry

youre the epitome of cool in my mind so you have to do something extreme to embaress yourself in front of me lol

(its also probably because out of all my mutuals i have the biggest age gap with you, at least im pretty sure)

[the-casbah-way]

stares at myself in the mirror stop spiralling over why someone this pretty wants to keep hooking up with you and just enjoy it while it lasts for the love of god please be normal

[jasonqrace]

I literally love people telling me that Im a joy or warm and welcoming or cool. Like hell yeah people in the office who dont know me call me a bitch but the rando at the coffee shop thinks Im funny so actually Im the hottest coolest person ever

[connormoving]

it is quite interesting to me how the feeling of the sounds of a word can change how the word feels imthats such a nothing sentence i mean like oo sounds bigger than like ee sounds to me you know. and of course theres kiki and bouba snd all of this.

[secretlyofthefeywild]

went to a bar tn and i regret it

[stellamarielu]

jack abbot who is unknowingly pouty and stand-offish when he is jealous and is viscerally irritated when he realizes because he believes he’s too old to feel this possessive 🫣

anyone down for a quick possessive jack abbot drabble with a sprinkle of frank langdon bc why the hell not??? frankie mention is harmless but i want them both to want me let’s be honest.

Jack never saw himself as a possessive man. He was extremely secure, and hardly ever jealous.

But that was before he noticed the way Frank Langdon always lingered in your presence.

At first he didn’t pay too much attention to it, he would remind himself that the man had a family at home, and chalked it up to nothing more than an affectionate personality and friendly demeanor.

Until he realized Frank was no where near affectionate nor friendly.

In fact, he was known for his blunt, no bullshit personality, so to see him smiling at you so often and striking up small talk between patients, he began to question his intentions.

Jack’s apprehensive state of mind started with narrow eyed stares while he watched Langdon pick up his stride to catch up with you in the open walkways of the ED. The threatening glares quickly evolved into subconsciously clenched fists when he overheard the way you would cackle at some of his comments.

cackle.

The same outburst of giggles that he usually pulled from you when you laid next to him in bed, only now he had to hear them at the end of another man's jokes.

The worst part was that he was only privy to a handful of interactions between you and Langdon, the ones that took place at the end of his shift and the beginning of yours.

Once Jack left for the day, you were completely at the mercy of the conventionally attractive, blue eyed doctor for the remainder of your work day.

And the real kicker, was that even if he was on the day shift with you and Langdon… even if he was around to witness the extra attention you were getting from another male coworker, he couldn’t do anything about it, because you weren’t even his in the first place.

Or at least he didn't know if you were his.

You certainly had a physical relationship. Having been sleeping together for nearly two months now, there was no question that you were romantically involved.

You stayed over at his place, he stayed over at yours, you talked every day, shared meals, kissed each other goodbye in the morning, and yet he still wasn’t certain of the title of your relationship.

God, he was nearly 50. Formally asking you to be his girlfriend felt so trivial, but the longer he had to walk past Langdon shamelessly flirting with you, he thought he might just get down on one knee in front of the entire hospital just to shut him up.

Langdon was currently leaning unnecessarily far over the triage desk, captivating your attention with whatever stupidity was spewing from his mouth and Jack couldn’t take it anymore.

His face was rigid, and body tense as he pushed toward the back doors of the ED, backpack slung over one shoulder.

He brushed past you on his way out, no good bye, no silent wink hidden from the rest of the staff, not even a subtle smile. Just walked right past you as Frank continued telling you about the new Mediterranean restaurant down the street.

You held up a quick finger, signaling the man across from you to pause his thought, barely acknowledging him as you followed Jack through the sliding doors of the ambulance bay.

"Hey, you okay?"

Your voice stops him in his tracks. The sweet cadence immediately making him feel like the world's biggest asshole.

“You should get back in there before your boyfriend starts to worry about you.” He turns to face you, his words forming through a smile on his lips.

It's clearly a joke, one that immediately makes your brows furrow in confusion.

“Langdon?”

Hearing his name on your lips makes his jaw tick.

You stop for a second, looking back through the glass of the sliding doors. Frank is there, fidgeting with the stethoscope at his neck and talking with Dana, glancing out at you and Jack mid conversation.

“Oh.” Your voice is quiet as you turn back to look at the man in front of you, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder.

Here you were, thinking Jack had a rough night or a challenging case that made him stoic and closed off, when in reality he was just jealous.

“Jack Abbot are you jealous?”

He doesn't respond, just takes a deep breath, chest heaving under his inhale as he keeps his eyes on you.

“It’s Frank.” You say it like you actually can't believe he would imply anything could ever happen between the two of you.

Sure, you and Frank got along well. Of course you were close, you spent nearly 50 hours a week with the guy. But at the end of the day, he was just an annoyingly condescending resident with a good sense of humor. He wasn’t someone you were even remotely interested in exploring a relationship with. He wasn’t Jack.

“you are the only man working at this hospital that I have feelings for.” Stepping forward to close the gap between your bodies, you place your hands on either side of his arms, holding him steady and reiterating that he is your sole focus.

“What about over at St. Johns?”

Classic Jack brushing off the seriousness of his feelings with a joke, bringing up the possibility that you might find another lover at the hospital three blocks away.

“I can’t make any promises there, I hear they have a really hot orthopedic surgeon.”

He shakes his head at your response, a wide smile stretching across his features.

“Seriously. It’s just you for me.”

There it was. A branding of exclusivity.

You seek out his gaze, tilting your head slightly to the side, and a weight leaves his chest at your words of reassurance.

“Dinner tonight? Your place?” You place a quick kiss on his cheek as the questions flood past you lips.

He hums in response, busy looking over your shoulder, “your boyfriend’s staring at us.”

You almost roll your eyes at the smug expression washing over his face as he watches Langdon through the glass.

“My boyfriend, is right here.”

This time your lips find his in a careful, prolonged embrace. A kiss that everyone on the other side of the sliding doors is sure to be gaping at— your relationship laid out in the open air of the ambulance bay in front of anyone who cares to watch.

[astrow1zar6]

Astrology Observations- 50

Jupiter in the 8th house can be a really hard placement to have in the natal chart. Whatever Jupiter touches it expands so when in the 8th house that rules death, sex, rebirth, transformation ect all these are major components of your life. Could have a really intense life and go thru a lot of struggle young. I see a lot of people with this placement experience death at a very young age. Your blessings however come when you push through those dark and you come out so much stronger. Extremely emotional intelligent.

Venus in Scorpio is a common placement to see in exotic dancers

Scorpio risings I notice rarely delete photos on social media or in general. They are usually the people that keep up photos for years. Even if they have pictures with people they don’t interact with anymore (such as an ex). Very hard for these people to let go of the past.

Aquarius’s suns will either come off as one of the friendliest easygoing people you ever met or really stand offish and mean mugged.. no in between

Underdeveloped Virgo moons tend to pick on people a lot. They can try to highlight your insecurities on purpose. If not evolved they can have big mean girl energy.

The people I meet that I see usually have really long healthy relationships are Taurus suns and Cancer suns. (Especially when together!)

Gemini mars people are super impulsive. They require a lot of mental stimulation so the riskier the more exciting for them usually.

A lot of Gemini moons get famous for just recording themselves talking. A lot of influencers have a Gemini moon. You usually have a lot of things to say and are amazing at keeping up conversations which makes you very entertaining to listen to/watch. They communicate best when they just allow themselves to talk spontaneously without planning out what to say.

An Unevolved Pisces Mars is genuinely so scary! They can be so good at emotional manipulation. They are skilled in making others blame themselves for their mistakes. Big mastermind energy.

Pisces Mars I notice also really hate confrontation. They have a harder time speaking/standing up for themselves a lot. I feel like these people are the least likely to start/be in a physical altercation out of all the mars signs.

Mars in Aries/1st house people tend to be naturally toned/ athletic looking. Even if they don’t really work out that much they always look super cut for no reason.

Cancer and Sagittarius placements tend to put on weight very easily

Capricorn risings/Venus could’ve been told to eat more or that they look starved. A lot of people with this placement I notice tend to be very petite/boney naturally. The types that can eat all day and not gain a pound.

Pisces Venus men are either fairytale like romantic or they are extremely bare minimum and romantically clueless.

Aqua Venus’s hate people who are too clingy too soon. They will ghost you so fast. If you want to attract them just act nonchalant they won’t admit it by they are really into people who don’t express much interest.

Sag Venus’s are very experimental in love the types to try throuple or be swingers. I also notice the men are more into 🍒 than 🍑

I’ve seen a lot of Aqua moons be big in the closet gays (my experience not all Aqua moons ofc)

Taurus mars/venus take a really long time to decide if they want a relationship with you they will put it off for so long until they are completely sure. This can be extremely annoying to more fast paced types. They tend to wait too long to the point they miss their opportunity to be with the person they really wanna be with:( but once they become sure they’re in it for the longest haul. Will be the most loyal partner.

Scorpio moons are very easily embarrassed especially when it comes to how they feel. They tend to take things very personally due to their sensitivity which is why most choose not to open up.

Unevolved Libra moons are the type to sleep with their best friend’s boyfriend or try to flirt with them. (Example ; Alabama Barker)

Uranus in the 5th house natives have such a quirky sense of humor. They tend to usually be hilarious and have people cracking up. The most random shit comes out of their mouths. You never know what they’re going to say 😂

Virgo risings hate being late to things. The types to come 10 minutes early to work. They also tend to get anxious when their environment is a mess I notice.

A lot of Lilith in Pisces men tend to have a foot fetish. Lilith ruling kinks & Pisces ruling the feet. They also tend to like fat on a woman or like their women to be more plump and curvy over petite.

Libra placements have a big emphasis on their teeth/smile. Could have big teeth that stand out or an amazing smile.

Gemini placements tend to be amazing singers and have good pitch naturally (especially if you have a lot of second house placements).

Sorry for being MIA for awhile had to take some time to myself to deal with my mental health but I’m going to continue posting more since I’ve been feeling a lot better🫶🏽🥹🩵

[snekdood]

just wish ppl could hate me for the real and genuine reasons to hate me over

[beneathsilverstars]

i think if you’re doing mirabelle’s rpg. you have to put isat right in the middle. i think it should go like… she goes through vaugarde collecting the orbs and noticing all these mysteries about her companions and mourning all the frozen towns, and she wants to get to know her friends better, and figure out what’s bothering them and help with it, and go do fun touristy things with them, etc etc, but they have a country to save. there’s no time, and everything is frozen. if that wasn’t the case, they wouldn’t even be traveling together at all! and the whole time mirabelle’s struggling with anxiety and imposter syndrome and the weight of being The Savior. she has to fix things but she can’t, she wants to help her friends but she can’t, she has to change but she doesn’t want to. she’s getting a bad grade in rpg protagonist!!!

but then we hit isat. and you expect it to be the culmination of mirabelle’s arc, but she’s not ready for that yet, just like she’s felt unprepared and unworthy all game, stuck in this role, under the weight of everyone’s expectations — of course doing the thing everyone wants her to do can’t be mirabelle’s defining moment, no matter how much she also believes in the importance of the quest. when she vanquishes the king, it doesn’t actually fix any of her personal problems. it wasn’t even really about her.

instead, the focus of this event is on siffrin, since it turns out the unchanging king was his foil all along, not mirabelle’s. mysteries are answered about both siffrin and the king, but more importantly — this is the turning point for everyone. the result of the most seemingly-stand-offish character’s arc is the key to making progress in everyone else’s: the party admits they care about each other and decides to keep traveling together.

the second half of the game, then, is going backwards through vaugarde, visiting all the same places again. and now that they’re not on their blessed quest in the name of change, they DO have time and they ARE all officially friends. everyone gets a little arc, echoing the five orbs, starting with isat as siffrin’s. they’re still clearing out sadnesses — and there’s some really strong ones as everyone takes stock of how much time has passed and how much damage has been done — but they don’t respawn anymore. people are starting to recover! and instead of dungeon puzzles, there’s fetch quests and mini games as the party helps vaugarde rebuild. a lot of the quests relate to things they saw while frozen, a bunch of mysteries and tragedies that they can finally DO something about. and in the same way, the family can finally get closer and talk about important things and meet each other’s friends/family and share their interests etc etc, all these old mysteries and maybe-some-days getting resolved!

and then, finally. mirabelle has been doing work that she CHOSE, helping vaugarde rebuild. and sometimes people use the opportunity to rebuild differently, but sometimes people just want the same familiar things back, and that’s not actually bad, it’s nothing like being frozen. you can keep living in the same house but making new memories, fixing things as needed, both different and the same. and mirabelle realizes that she doesn’t need to change. she realizes she has changed, and she will keep changing, but she can stay the same the whole time too. she doesn’t need to be what people expect, not the perfect housemaiden or the rpg protagonist savior. she can just strive to be the best version of herself!!

and that’s the end of the game, bc mirabelle isn’t trying to figure out how to do everything right to win the game anymore. she’s just living ^^

[mace-art]

What I like about Movie Maria

You know why I really like this scene in the movie. because it actually gives us a perspective into Maria as a character and her thought process

Here is this 11-13 year old girl skating around this military base where no one is acknowledging her or even really giving her a time of day. She looks alittle lost and very much sticks out among the scientist and even the scenery. She’s energetic, fun and all around looks positive.

And the first thing someone does when they see her is reprimand her for her “skating” or being a kid

and yes does she take the skates off but she also won’t put shoes on.

A dig at Walters for making her take them off in the first place. The thing most people do is wear shoes. But she never does unless she is skating. Other then that it’s just her wearing socks.

and when she stumbles into shadows “room” she isn’t scared of him like the scientist are. she’s quite curious and sees him as a grumpy kid stuck in a tube.

and to cheer him up she draws on his tube to bring more of a friendly approach to him. So he can let his guard down with her. She’s bringing her Robotnik charm out.

and then she initiates reaching out to him after she sees he actually liked the drawing. That he smiled. she chose kindness. Because she saw him as someone. She saw him as a kid, just like her.

Shadow is suppose to be this living weapon. Something that harnesses absolute power. But Maria was never fascinated by that, she was interested in him.

Not once was she ever worried about her safely or him being different. She just saw Shadow. she saw him as a friend and a person. Not a weapon like GUN

She stood her ground when meeting shadow and instead of falling for his rough appearance and stand-offish body language. She chose to open up to him. Show him she was not a threat. She was determined.

and when he returns her gesture she is so happy.

The first person in this base who showed her the same kindness and interest back.

Her only friend.

[celestiamour]

haiii >_< could i request a myunggi (player 333) x fem reader. reader meets him at the games and falls for her because of the way she takes care of junhee and her baby (player 222)! i hope this isn’t too vague 🙈 do whatever ur heart desires with this!

ft. lee myung-gi x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ falling for your kindness towards jun-hee & his faults┊0.5k words

contains: fluff! newly established relationship, past myung-gi/jun-hee but not anymore obviously, reader is very kind

➤ author's note: love girls supporting girls, but the reader is kinder than i am, i would have beat his ass (another short one, i’m so busy omfg i hope to have a proper fic coming soon)

it seemed a little strange to him at first when he realized how much attention he was paying to your interactions with his jun-hee, but truthfully, he was nervous about it all. you had only been dating for two weeks, and he had no idea how you would react to being told that his pregnant ex-fiancee was in these death games with the two of you. he’s surprised you didn’t tear his head off when it was revealed he had a little over a billion won in debt compared to the hundred thousand won he lied to you about, and you were only in this shit because you wanted to help him out too.

it’s only now that he’s noticing that your kindness seemed to have no bounds and that your sincerity was like that of an angel. when you first approached her, he half expected you to start a fight like most of his previous partners did when meeting each other: establishing their position as his girlfriend, telling the other to back up, and maybe even getting physical if they both were in a bad mood.

yet you did none of that, coming to her with all genuine smiles and concern for her well-being.

at first, she was a bit stand-offish for obvious reasons as she’s seen you plenty of times with the ex-youtuber, but once she saw your persistence to make friends with her, she eventually gave in and even smiled that myung-gi is a lucky man for having you in his life. after all, she couldn’t stay indifferent towards someone who went out of her way to help make makeshift accommodations for her pregnancy whether she needed extra food when eating for two, another pillow to sleep comfortably, or a buddy to go to the bathroom with. there was nothing you wouldn’t do for her and sometimes you even spent more time with her than your boyfriend. 

“aren’t you mad?”

“what do you mean?” 

“aren’t you mad at me for having a pregnant ex-fiancee? aren’t you jealous?”

“well, you didn’t know about it until we got here. besides, she said she doesn’t want you back anyway even if you are the father.”

“right, but… what about me keeping the severity of my debts a secret?”

“you didn’t want to worry me, i forgive you! listen, we’re all human and make mistakes, i’m not mad at you about anything. i just want to get out of here alive and use the money we earned surviving to pay everything you owe back then we can start being a real couple without all that on our shoulders.

he stared at you with his mouth slightly agape and shook his head lightly. there was nothing negative in your tone, nothing indicating that you didn’t care or that you just wanted to get the matter over with, you really were accepting the apologies made for his shitty past decisions out of the pure kindness of your heart. it made his own soar like a bird gliding along with the wind, feeling like he had the chance to improve and finally be the man you deserve. 

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Bite me, Love

Charlie Weasley x Reader

Summary: Charlie Weasley loves his girl how he loves his dragons. AKA Charlie loves it when his girl bites.

WC: 1k

CW: Cussing, biting, and a bit sexual leaning

Charlie Weasley had a thing for fire.

It showed in everything he loved- his dragons, his job, the way his hands were always a little calloused from handling creatures that could (and would) turn a man to ash without a second thought. He liked things wild, untamed, full of passion and fight.

Which is why, when he met you, it all made perfect sense.

Because you were just like his dragons.

Stand-offish. Sarcastic. Sassy as all hell. And prone to overwhelming bouts of affection that usually ended in your teeth sinking into his skin.

Like now.

It was early- too early. The sun barely peeked through the window of your shared bedroom, casting a golden glow over the tangled mess of sheets and limbs. You were curled into Charlie’s side, trapped in the warmth of his arms, his rough palm smoothing over your back in lazy circles. He was a furnace, always running hot, and you should have been grateful for it in the chilly morning air.

But he was being too affectionate. Too soft.

And you didn’t know how to handle it.

“You’re warm,” he murmured against the shell of your ear, voice still thick with sleep. “Could stay like this forever.”

You grumbled something unintelligible into his chest, refusing to let your heart melt at the way his fingers traced absentminded patterns into your skin.

He chuckled, clearly picking up on your growing restlessness. “What, can’t handle a bit of affection, love?”

His teasing was met with a sharp bite to his shoulder.

Charlie didn’t even flinch. If anything, he laughed “Merlin, you’re worse than Norberta,” he mused, pulling you closer instead of retreating. “You know, she bit me the first time I tried to feed her. Damn near took off my hand.”

You growled- actually fucking growled- and bit him again, this time at the curve of his bicep, the firm muscle giving slightly under your teeth.

Charlie let out an appreciative hum, completely unbothered. If anything, he sounded pleased.

“Fuck, I love that,” he admitted, voice dipping low.

You huffed against his skin, barely resisting the urge to do it again just to shut him up.

It wasn’t just the mornings when this happened.

It was whenever Charlie got too much.

When he wrapped himself around you on the couch, arms and legs tangling with yours like he wanted to merge into your very being. When his hands got a little too handsy, slipping under your shirt absentmindedly while he talked, utterly unaware of how flustered you were becoming.

When he leaned in too close, eyes burning with mischief, lips quirking into that goddamn smirk.

That’s when your instincts kicked in.

Like an overstimulated cat- except instead of claws, you had teeth.

And Charlie? The absolute menace of a man adored it.

“Didn’t realize I’d be dating a feral little thing,” he teased one night after you nearly bit his knuckles when he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

You’d glared at him, half mortified and half infuriated. “Then leave.”

“Not a chance,” he grinned, pressing a kiss to your temple before murmuring against your skin, “Wouldn’t have you any other way.”

And fuck if that didn’t make your stomach twist into knots.

But it was worse when he knew.

When he realized exactly what his affection did to you.

And, worse still, when he used it against you.

Like now.

You were still trapped in bed, your limbs tangled with his, his broad chest rising and falling beneath your cheek. The warmth of him was suffocating in the best way, his scent- embers and earth, something deeply, irritatingly comforting- enveloping you entirely.

He shifted, just enough to make you hyper-aware of the solid weight of him, of the arm still wrapped around your waist, fingers splayed against the curve of your back like he had no intention of letting go.

“Hmm,” he murmured, voice still thick with sleep. “Still pouting?”

You scowled, refusing to lift your head.

Charlie huffed out a laugh, the sound rumbling through his chest. “You’re ridiculous.”

You bit him. Again.

Hard.

Right on the curve of his collarbone.

Charlie groaned. And fuck, the sound sent a jolt of heat straight to your stomach.

It was barely a second before he moved, suddenly rolling you beneath him, pinning you to the mattress with nothing but his weight.

You gasped, hands automatically bracing against his chest, fingers digging into the solid muscle.

He grinned, slow and smug, his stubble brushing against your cheek as he leaned in. “That’s not very nice, love.”

You glared up at him, breathing uneven. “Then let me go.”

Charlie tilted his head, considering. And then- because he was a menace- he leaned down, his lips brushing over your jaw, his stubble scraping just enough to make you shiver. “Not a chance.”

His voice was rough, teasing, but something deeper simmered beneath it, something possessive.

You clenched your jaw, your pulse thundering, your body caught between the instinct to fight and the overwhelming urge to give in.

You hated- hated- how easily he unraveled you.

Charlie chuckled, completely unbothered by your internal battle. “Go on, love,” he murmured, dragging his lips lower, pressing a kiss to the sensitive spot just below your ear. “Bite me again.”

You shuddered, fisting your hands in his shirt, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer.

And Charlie- fucking Charlie- just waited, watching you.

His gaze burned into yours, blue eyes half-lidded, his expression one of utter satisfaction, of someone who knew exactly how much he affected you.

“You love this,” he murmured, voice thick with amusement. “Don’t you?”

You grit your teeth. “Fuck. You.”

Charlie smirked. “That an invitation?”

You let out a strangled noise- half groan, half exasperation- and, finally, sank your teeth into his shoulder.

He growled this time, the sound rumbling low in his throat, and before you could react, his mouth was on yours.

Hot. Overwhelming.

And so fucking unfair.

Because Charlie Weasley had a thing for fire.

And he’d never loved anything more than you.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Hey! I saw you were accepting Feyd requests and I got so excited! Could you do something where Feyd and reader have been married for a little while, have been pretty stand-offish and just keeping up appearances. They get into a fight over something stupid, saying hurtful things because reader still believes Feyd is incapable of feelings. Turns out he’s really protective though and gets seriously injured saving her during an attack? Reader panics trying to help him and the feels super guilty, meanwhile Feyd is enjoying the attention.

Staining

Feyd-Rautha x reader

Notes/Warnings: It's slightly different, but I hope you like it anyway. Mentions of blood and death. Smut so 18+. I'm sure there's typos. I think that's it.

Words: 4100

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

“You’re heartless”—that’s what you spit at him after watching him rip apart another family right before your eyes. 

He slaughtered a man for a petty crime, and then you had to watch what would become of the wife and children. 

He gave them options, of course. He presents all of them with a choice: to be servants for his House or to fight for survival in the slums of Giedi Prime. For the mother, it likely means you’ll have a new handmaid. For the boys, they will be trained so they can one day face off in the arena. Either way, it's no life.

As he announced the options for their future, you couldn’t look away from her: the woman whose husband lay at her feet, the blood drained from his body as she attempted to shield her two young sons behind her small frame. You watched her kind eyes go permanently wide out of shock. She needed to answer your husband’s question, give a response to his merciful offer, but she couldn’t. Nothing on her moved save for the grip she had on her boys, which only tightened the longer she stared at her dead lover. 

You knew what would happen to them. Your husband found her silence and inability to snap out of her trace irritating. She would make a poor handmaid if she could not listen. The boys, however, could still make fine warriors—guaranteed entertainment a few years down the line. 

So he separated them. Allowed the guards to pry them away from their mother’s fingers—who left her state of shock behind only when she felt them being ripped from her hands—before dragging them to cells with tears streaming down their round cheeks. 

Their mother collapsed to the floor by her dead husband. His blood soaked her skirts. You didn’t know how a man could do this to his own people for something as simple as the theft of some food, but he does, and often. Then he had her thrown out, back to the slums where she came from. 

She’ll never see her boys again. If you know your husband, he will likely one day force the two to face off with each other in the arena. After all, that’s where his uncle finds entertainment, and your husband will do anything to please the old man. 

Long after his guards have departed with the woman, you’re still staring at the body on the floor. The red around him is congealing. If you run your finger through it, the digit will return sticky and thickly coated. He’ll stain your skin. He’ll stain through your skin onto your insides. He’ll never come off. 

He’s like your husband, you think. Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen stained you, and impressively, he didn’t even have to touch you to achieve that. Simply being in his presence was enough to leave his mark, and you’re in his presence plenty, just not how you imagined you would be when you married him. You imagined being in his bed. You imagined kisses and loving caresses and sweet words—that kind of staining. But you were a naive girl when your parents dropped you off on this planet, and you quickly learned how to be a woman; a woman whose husband only uses her for formality’s sake. 

You don’t know why you have to be by his side for this, though, but he always ensures that you are. The two of you…a solidified front to the world, as if you agree with the choices he makes and the punishment he doles out to those who don’t deserve it.

So that’s why you say it. Because you’re tired of this, tired of being silent, hating the idea that your silence might lead him to think the two of you are on the same page; that you’re a team. 

“You’re heartless.”

His head whips to you. “Heartless…” His voice around the word is vile; thick and rich like the blood on the floor. With a few steps in your direction he is in your space and you clasp your hands in front of you, fingers squeezing tightly to keep yourself from running off. He stares down at you, a luminous blue that you found so stunningly gorgeous when you first met him now a pair of frozen icicles stabbing into your skull. “I’m heartless?”

Your swallow is rough. Dry and scratchy. 

“I’m not the one who steals from his neighbors. I’m not the one who risks leaving his wife alone for the rest of her life,” he says. “They know the laws. They know the consequences.”

“And the woman? She deserves to be alone, rotting away in poor living conditions because of his choice? Her children deserve to die for your entertainment?”

“You take issue with how I handle things?”

“Yes.”

Feyd’s back teeth clench. His jaw sets in a sharp line. “Another reason for you to hate me then,” he grits out.

You blink. Your lips part. Another reason? You don’t have multiple reasons, and there’s certainly nothing you’ve done to indicate that you do. You used to hate that he didn’t, and doesn’t, care about you, but you’ve never said a word about it. You’ve never bothered him about sleeping in separate rooms or asked him to give you anything of himself. This—his treatment of his people in situations like this one—isn’t another reason. It’s the reason. 

“You could deal with these matters differently,” you say.

His fingers form balls at his sides. His mouth opens. It closes. He shakes his head and walks past you but pauses before he is completely out of your peripherals. “This is how things are done here,” he says. “You’ve been my wife for five months now. You need to get used to it.”

—

You don’t get used to it. You don’t get used to it because he doesn’t demand you be by his side at his executions anymore. Not after that day. 

You’d never spoken up before that moment, and it cost you what little interaction you had with your husband, which you despise to say was precious. You may not love him, and at times hate him, but he is the only thing you have on this planet. Little as you spoke to one another before, you held onto it because no one else gives a damn about you. Not that he does either, but at least he would give you a word or two. His brother and the Baron don’t bother, leaving you to Feyd to decide what to do with and when to do it. 

However, you imagine they didn’t expect that he would never touch you, and based on the way they watch you and Feyd when you’re forced to join the Harkonnen’s for dinner, you imagine they’re now aware that whatever was between you—minute as it was—is gone. He doesn’t even call on you for formal events. He no longer cares about showing a unified front to the other Great Houses. But you do.

You know what reputation means to the Harkonnens, and regardless of how you feel about the history of Feyd’s choices, you’re not willing to present your life on Giedi Prime as a failure. The two of you are too young for whispers to spread among influential families of a tainted marriage, a crack in the system. You don’t need questions floating about in regards to a unification that will not result in an heir. The end of the Harkonnen line, they’ll say, as Rabban, much older than your husband, has yet to choose a wife. How unfortunate, they’ll slyly mutter around the rims of their champagne glasses. And you’re not ready for that. 

So, with the exception of executions, you attend the events your husband does not invite you to anymore. You make sure your face is seen, especially when most vital. At his meetings, at his fights in the arena, and at Harkonnen parties such as this one. 

People enjoy themselves here. Shockingly, a few strong drinks eases the tension between Houses, and Giedi Prime has the strongest drinks of them all. It’s a tactic. A genius one, if you’re honest. The Baron invites his guests and gets them in a good mood and strikes deals one cannot go back on. Brilliant. Something you might have thought of yourself if your husband let you share your thoughts; thoughts you have plenty of. But no one cares how you would rule this planet if you had a say in its future.

You watch the Houses mingle about. You watch them laugh and dance. You watch them watch your husband. You watch them watch you. You watch the wheels turn in their alcohol-addled brains. You roll your eyes at what he doesn’t see. 

Ungluing yourself from your designated spot, you step up the staircase that leads to the Harkonnen men, your husband and his brother flanking the throne the Baron sits upon. You don’t think to speak to any of them; you didn’t break away from your assigned location for words. Instead, for all to see, you reach up to cup Feyd’s cheek and turn his head toward you for the first kiss since the day of your wedding. A gentle brush of lips. A buzz more engulfing than any drink could offer.

He freezes, and when you pull back his lips are still parted. His eyes open slowly and he stares down at you in awed confusion. How he doesn’t understand why you’ve done what you’ve done is just short of bewildering, but it doesn’t seem to click. 

“You–”

“I’m going to retire for the night,” you tell him. You’ve been at this party long enough, and the guests have now seen what they needed to see. Not to mention, their tipsy state means they’ll soon forget any thoughts they have about you until morning. They’ll stop searching for your presence. 

You don’t wait for your husband’s nod of approval. You’re pretty sure he doesn’t care where you are at any given time anyway, so you descend the staircase and exit the grand room into the hall that leads to your bedroom.

The echo of footsteps follows and you’re bold enough to believe it could be Feyd before a blade is pressed against your throat from behind. For a moment, you think it still might be your husband—retaliation for the kiss that re-sparked a feeling you’ve been trying to ignore since you married him—but the voice in your ear is feminine. 

“He killed my husband, my Lady,” the voice says, and you instantly remember her. It’s been two months but nothing could make you forget the look in her eyes. “I want my sons.”

You swallow hard. The blade nicks your throat from the additional force. A droplet trickles down your neck. “I can’t return your sons to you,” you tell her, at the same time questioning how she infiltrated such a secure place. But you suppose with the number of guests, slipping in would not have been the most difficult of challenges. 

You wince at the deepening cut. Your heartbeat quickens, doing little to aid in stopping the blood seeping from your wound. “You’re the na-Baronness.”

“I have little power here.”

“I don’t care!” she shouts, her words bouncing off the walls. “I want my boys,” and you think now she’s crying. Her tone alters. Something catches in her throat. “What’s happened to them?”

You don't wish to tell her, but you’re in no position to deny her requests. “They’re alive and well,” you say, which isn’t a complete lie. The Baron prefers strong, well-fed fighters—the duels last longer that way. 

“I want them back!”

“As much as I would like to, I cannot give them back to you. It’s not my decision.”

“Then I’ll take you from him,” she spits. “The way he took mine.”

You must’ve put on a grander show than you expected with that kiss because she seems to fully believe that your death would matter to him. But you know he won’t blink an eye. He might even thank her. Reward her by reuniting her with her sons, though unlikely. 

“He won’t care,” you tell her. 

“I have seen him, my Lady. He will care,” she says, and you don’t know how she could possibly come to that conclusion or why. It’s not as if the people of Giedi Prime sense a kind capability from the Harkonnens. “He will–”

She chokes. The blade trembles then drops from your neck. You quickly glance down to find Feyd’s knife deep in her side. 

Many things are a mystery to you in that moment. Why he bothered to leave the party; why he came down this hall of all halls, especially when his room resides in another; and why he pierced her side rather than go for the neck, which would have instantly ended her. His mistake. An uncharacteristic mistake.

The woman whips around, freeing you, and you stumble out of reach. They’re a blur of battling bodies as you get your footing, but then it catches up with you—the pain. Your hand goes to your neck and you make a little noise at the sting of your fresh wound. Your mistake. 

Feyd looks away from her in search of you for a single second. Not even. A half-second. But the woman is smaller, quicker, and the distraction is enough. Her blade slides into his abdomen. He grunts. You gasp.

He regains his focus and, by her hair, he rips her head back to expose her throat and shoves the blade through her neck. Blood spurts across his chest as he removes the weapon, and she collapses to her knees before the rest of her body flops to the floor. 

Feyd takes a shaky step back, staring down at the blade in his torso. He drops his knife and his hand goes to the hilt of the other. 

“No, don’t!” you yell, but you’re too late. He jerks the blade out and it clatters on the ground. His palm does nothing to stop the flow of crimson. 

Rushing to him, you fall to the floor as he does. You press your hands on top of his to keep the pressure but it’s useless. “Don’t you know anything?” you mutter. “You should’ve kept the damn thing in.”

He chuckles. The bastard actually chuckles. Then his other hand raises and lands on top of yours. You think he’s trying to add more pressure, but his touch is gentle. His thumb runs over your knuckles. 

“It’s alright,” he says, and you’ve never heard his voice so devoid of depth and strength.

“No, it’s not,” you retort, irritated. 

“You still hate me?”

“Shut up!” you snap. “Help!” Yanking the black chiffon sleeve off your gown, it tears free and you ball the material to shove it against his wound. “Help!” 

Guards burst through the doors and run to you. You sigh with relief, but when you look down, your husband is paler than you’ve ever seen him. 

“Feyd…” 

You’re shoved out of the way in a second, flung to the side like a flicked-away ant, and then he’s taken from you. You watch them until he’s out of view. When you glance down at your hands, they’re stained with him. 

—

They bandaged your neck in mere minutes and you find it aggrivating that they couldn’t work as efficiently on him. You’ve been dead silent for hours now, expecting to hear screams of pain as they stitch him back together, but then you remember he’s a glutton for pain. He’s probably enjoying it, the sick bastard. But you’re not enjoying it—the waiting, the limbo. It’s torturous. 

You’ve never seen him hurt before. You’ve witnessed his skills in the arena, and not once in your seven months of marriage has someone gotten a decent slash on him. 

Guilt hits you hard as you recall that it’s your fault. That woman was skilled as well—you suppose she would be if she was raised to live where she did—but if you hadn’t made that noise, if you hadn’t distracted him, she would’ve been dead before she could do her damage. This wouldn’t have happened. 

Just then, a knock comes at your door. You speak for them to enter and a guard peeks into your room. “My Lady…” he says, and you pray you’re not about to be told your husband didn’t survive a single stab wound. “You can come with me.”

You don’t wait around for more. You hop to your feet and quickly follow through hall after hall until you’re at his room. 

“What will I see when I walk in there?” you ask. 

“He’s fine, my Lady,” he says, bowing his head to dismiss himself before returning to his post. 

Turning the knob, you edge the door open and step inside. The bed is in immediate view, but he’s not in it. He’s not in it and he should be. Not even the covers are pulled back. Maybe the guard misled you. If he were fine, surely he would be resting. 

You make your way in further. 

“You’re here.” 

Your head snaps to your right where he’s leaning against the lone table in his room, a lit orb on the wooden surface illuminating him from behind in a white glow. He’s less pale than he was; what little rosiness he once had returned to his skin. 

Clearing your throat, you say, “I was told to come.”

“Because I told them to bring you,” he says. 

Your heart pounds at the bareness of his torso, the thickness of his arms as they cross in front of his chest. It pounds in a different way, an off-kilter way, when you notice the dressings wrapped around his waist and the patch of blood that is seeping through three layers of it. 

He must see your distraction because he says, “It’s fine.” Your eyes flick back to his. A beat of silence passes between you. You’re unsure how to continue now that he’s seen the concern you have for him. “I suppose you’re disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” you repeat. “What for?”

“I’m alive.”

Your jaw drops ever so slightly. You recover as best you can before you say, “Feyd, I don’t want you to—I’ve never wanted you to–”

He holds up his hand, cutting you off. “I’m going to listen to you.”

Your brow pinches. Why did he silence you, then? “Listen to me about what?”

He takes a deep breath, an action that lifts his shoulders and has them falling heavily back down. His eyes penetrate you as they’ve always done, but the iciness is gone. “I don’t care if the people I hurt want to kill me,” he starts. “But she didn’t come to kill me; she came to hurt me by killing you. So I will listen to your thoughts when it comes to dealing with matters like that one.” He pauses, expecting a response, but you don’t quite know what to give him, so he continues. “Your voice will make fewer enemies.”

“You care about making enemies?” Since when would a Harkonnen ever care about such a thing? Especially when they are known for doing that thing so well.

“I care when they come after my wife,” he says. Pushing off the table, he leisurely steps toward you. You’re stuck to your spot. “The men of my House do not have a history of caring about their wives. They’ve never cared if their actions bring them harm, and yet, people have used our wives as pawns for revenge for centuries. Many have died to prove a point. I’m not going to let you be one of them.”

He stops only to not collide with your body. You have to look up to maintain eye contact, and when you do, his breath brushes over your lips. “Why didn’t you kill her when you could have? You stabbed her in the side. You avoided vital organs.”

“Because you wouldn’t have wanted me to kill her if I didn’t have to,” he says. “So I didn’t kill her…until I had to.”

You suck in a sharp breath. You didn’t know he was capable of such restraint. You didn’t know he had enough fragments of a heart to glue together to keep him from doing exactly as he pleases. 

His hand lands on your hip and his thumb begins to rub up and down over the curve of it. He hasn’t touched you…ever. In fact, he’s seemed over the months to deliberately avoid it. Like your skin would burn him even through the fabric of your gowns. Anytime it looked like he would try, he’d pull back before flesh grazed flesh. 

“You hadn’t kissed me since we married,” he says, so gentle in that low voice that it’s practically a whisper. It doesn’t make the heat of his breath any less intense against your skin. 

“People were watching too intensely,” you inform him. “They were thinking something was wrong between us, I could tell, and I didn’t want to give them that power over you.”

“So that was it, then?” he asks. “That’s the only reason you did it?”

“That’s–” you swallow, debating whether or not to say it, to give him more. 

“What?”

“That’s the reason I did it,” you decide to tell him, and his face shifts; his features alter in a manner you’ve never seen. He looks down to his feet. He nods and his touch disappears, and now you feel cold and you hate it. “But that’s not the only reason I wanted to do it.”

He freezes as he did before. For a moment, his chest stops rising and falling with expected breaths. When his tongue darts out to wet his lips, he raises his head. 

You can’t stop staring, even though your brain is telling you to get ahold of yourself. His mouth is so plush. You’ve always known it. It’s always done something to you. And whatever that something is, it’s more potent now that he’s so close and you can see his lips glistening in the low light. 

“Will you do it again?” he asks.

Again? You didn’t imagine he wanted you to do it the first time, or the second. The first was an obligation. The second was not exactly mutually agreed upon. But as he stands in front of you, asking, you can’t bring yourself to say no. You don’t want to say no. So you say yes, and you inch up on your toes until your lips meet his. 

Immediately, he’s yanking your body flush against his. His hand goes into your hair, and he parts his lips so they can better lock with yours. He’s good at this, and you don’t want to think about why, can’t think about why without a knot of jealousy settling in your gut that only dissipates when those hands travel down your body to the back of your thighs. You’re in the air, your legs wrapped around his waist, your lips still sealed for one second more before your back hits the mattress and he’s on top of you with his leg shoving between yours, nudging your thighs open for him. 

You don’t know the exact moment it happens, but your skirts are up to your waist and he’s inside of you, moving in and out, kissing your neck and pulling gasps from your throat, and it feels right, good, like pieces falling together. A bit of you feels guilty for that. That you can know what he’s done to people and still want to feel the pleasure of every inch that he’s giving you. You’re selfish, maybe that’s it. Maybe you’ve always been and you didn’t know it. You can’t bring yourself to care as he makes those deep noises in your ear and stains your insides.

After you’re sated, you lay there for a while with him in your arms and his arms wrapped around your waist. His head rests on your chest. You think about the things you’ve done to each other in the course of an hour and it brings a blush to your cheeks. You think about how you can’t go back and that you don’t want to. You’ve wanted this from the beginning, despite what he’s done. You expected it when you married him only to be sorely disappointed at his lack, or what appeared as a lack, of interest. You’re definitely selfish, at least when it comes to him. But you refuse to be when it comes to other matters.

“I want something from you,” you say. He hums, content. “I want us to take in that woman's boys.”

[awkwrdfics]

⤷ dating toji & other random headcanons , * . ₊ ⸜modern au

german shepard boyfriend 100%. tough exterior loyal loving personality

he'd teach you how to work out and use the equipment and the right positions and stuff if you wanted to.

genuinely gets pissed off when you say your insecure about something, this man literally thinks ur perfect with no flaws. "your insecure about that? there's literally nothing fucking wrong with you in my opinion." he says and then cuddles for the rest of the night.

this man has no patience and a short temper, so you guys into disagreements often, rather if their major or petty. once you cried during an argument . at first toji was stand offish as he watched you walk out of the room. as you sat on the couch watching your phone, your eyes were still red and puffy, and toji walked past you warming leftovers. he sighed loudly, he knew he was wrong. he walked over to you. "hey im really sorry about the argument we had earlier," you were silent for a little "you think you could forgive me?" you let out a small smile "yea I forgive you, just don't talk to me like that everrrr again," you say with a playful tone scuffling his hair.

for sure calls u mamas/ma. he obviously has other pet names for u but that's his main thing (doing this headcanon mainly for myself lmfao)

this man is so easily jealous, you'd be talking to some guy and toji will notice how the guy is making "too intense" eye contact with you. and then tries to make a casual excuse for you to stop carrying on the conversation. then later you ask him if he was jealous and he'd deadass be so offended.

he'd be totally down for getting matching tattoos, this man so down bad he would get ur name tattooed on him.

he still gets flustered whenever you compliment him even though you'd been together for some years, he gets embarrassed about but you luv it sooo.

somewhat gentle dom. he isn't really gentle to be honest but he does make sure he doesn't hurt you too much. he does stupid dirty talk check ins "does it feel good huh?" "you like that?" stuff like that

this man is an eatterrr. heavyly likes when you sit on his face, like suffocate him, you always make sure you don't kill him when you do sit on his face. but the way he grips your thighs and push you further down on him one day you may actually kill him.

he wears glasses he just doesn't like to wear them because they make him look "stupid" which honestly is annoying because you think he looks good asf in glasses

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