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imfoive · 2 days ago

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Trophy Husband - Chapter 3

Hyunjin x Reader (fem.) Genre: Arranged Marriage au!, Marriage of Convenience-ish, Romance, Angst, Frenemies-to-Lovers, NSFW mdni Warnings: mentions of extramarital affairs, implied masturbation, cursing, drinking, physical violence, crude language, somewhat proofread WC: 6.4k A/N: We're really getting into this story oof, I was so excited to share this chapter! Feedback, Reblogs, Likes are greatly appreciated! Happy reading! ── MASTERLIST

Synopsis: Two individuals with polar opposite lifestyles are thrown into an arranged marriage for the benefit of both their families, or so they claim. One is a frivolous playboy, living off familial wealth, while the other is an overly controlling workaholic. Navigating their marriage with a business-like approach, their relationship is marked by a whirlwind of bickering, banter, and societal pressures. Amid misunderstandings, they uncover layers of unexpected qualities, eventually discovering a sweet love neither saw coming.

Missed a chapter? - Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

CHAPTER 3 ───────────────────

Hyunjin had momentarily forgotten that, despite finding a peculiar sense of belonging in his… unconventional marriage, not everyone would suddenly see him in a new light.

The labels that had followed him since his teenage years weren’t so easily erased.

Especially seeing these young women flocking around him, their lashes fluttering, lips curling into smiles he would have once indulged in. Perhaps just to pass the time. It was then he realized, his reputation still clung to him.

His eyes swept across the room and locked onto his wife, Y/N. The woman he was supposedly in love with. The supposed emotions these women surrounding him were clearly aware of, yet seemed to disregard, as they shamelessly flirted with him. Their fingers brushed his arm, their laughter filled the space between, swatting at him playfully as they giggled at his remarks that weren’t truly all that amusing.

Their presence here made sense, though.

Who would truly believe that a womanizer like himself had finally been tamed?

Such stories weren’t common in their circle, everyone always falling back into their old habits. Maybe they expected it from him. These women, drawn to him even more so because he was suddenly “off-limits”. If it was some other day, he would have been amused, he would have flirted back.

If it was even the day before his wife had suddenly opened his eyes to emotions he didn’t know he had, he would have humored all these fake personalities.

But tonight, his gaze was fixed elsewhere. It lingered on Y/N, who stood with their mothers and a growing circle of friends, reintroduced to her over the course of the evening.

They were at a small gathering, though small was an understatement because everyone seemed to be here. His father had thrown this celebration for a business success and, as an afterthought, to celebrate the newlyweds. Even though it had been months since the wedding, they were still treated as if they had just tied the knot. Maybe that was just an excuse to make sure his cunning wife would show up, despite knowing she’d find a way to slither out of attending otherwise.

“—Does Y/N really meet your expectations?”

The question snapped Hyunjin back to a conversation he hadn’t been paying any particular attention to. His eyes flicked to the woman who had asked it, now standing just an arm’s length away.

He didn’t realize the group of women that had surrounded him had shrunk. Either they’d grown tired of his indifference or given up trying to compete for his attention. Though, Hyunjin guessed it was the absence of his usually flirtatious, usually charming persona that drove them away.

All but this woman. She was someone he recognized from his circle of friends, but one he’d never taken the time to get to know. It wasn’t her lone presence that caught him off guard. Rather, it was the ridiculousness of whatever she had just asked that made him blink in surprise.

He knew what she was insinuating. With her sultry tone and the curve of her lips that pulled into a smirk, he knew what she meant. As if she had convinced herself that he was going to find the next empty room and have his way with her.

It wasn’t uncommon. Affairs, mistresses, extramarital flings. Secrets kept under wraps, usually existing between couples who were nothing more than a business arrangement.

And even if his marriage was basically that. It was different. The marriage between Hwang Hyunjin and Y/N Yeom was dripping with romantic tales no one expected from him. He had settled down for her, a true romeo that was rare in their elite class.

Even if all of it was a ruse. A made-up story that was carved into stone to make it the truth.

Yet here she stood, the daughter of some other high-class entrepreneur that Hyunjin never cared enough to memorize, suggesting he undo the months of character development he had curated. As if he was such a loose man that he would easily be tempted by a pretty face and seductive eyes.

Hyunjin lowered his gaze to hide the annoyance that flickered in his eyes before looking up at her again.

“You must think of me as a joke.” His words came out sharper than intended, though deep down he knew he meant it.

For a moment her expression faltered, confused by his reaction. Confused as to why he was the one acting different. As if her question hadn’t disrespected his sham marriage, her touch on his arm hadn’t crossed a line.

Before Hyunjin could say anything further, or before she could continue her advances, a hand suddenly gripped his shoulder, breaking the tension.

“There you are.” His brother’s voice came out smoothly, his actions even smoother as he picked up a flute of champagne from one of the servers passing by, handing it over to the young woman that stood before them.

“You look like you need a refill.” He chuckled, glancing at her empty glass.

Her attention immediately shifted. The stunned expression on her face melted as she turned toward the older Hwang brother.

It was a common occurrence between the brothers. When Hwang Hyunsoo entered the room, everyone would instantly fall into his orbit. There was a charm about him that drew you close. A few simple words, a smile that easily captured whoever he was surrounded by.

Maybe being a smooth-talker was a familial trait, seeing that both Hwangs were exceptional at it. However, right now, Hyunjin furrowed his brows with confusion anew, wondering why he was relieved that his brother had decided to intrude with his presence.

“Your wife is looking for you.” Hyunsoo chuckled, patting lightly at the younger brother’s arm.

The taller, younger brother’s eyes darted over Hyunsoo’s shoulder, settling on the form of his wife he had been stealing glimpses of. He was slightly surprised she was asking about him. Usually in such events, Y/N Yeom did not even spare a glance toward Hyunjin or the direction of the cliques he stood amongst.

Although all those times in the past, they weren’t a couple, their names not attached to one another.

Hyunjin nodded, sparing a final glance toward the woman who stood between them.

As the trophy husband approached Y/N and the new group she was standing with, his arm naturally slid around her waist. He felt her tense immediately at the contact, but he only tightened his grip slightly, a satisfied smile curling on his lips as his gaze flicked to the two men she was conversing with. He noticed the surprised glance Y/N shot toward him. Probably more from the suddenness of his approach than anything else.

“Good evening gentlemen.” Hyunjin greeted the two men he too had been acquainted with.

The conversation flowed with ease, but even amidst the small talk, Hyunjin’s attention remained on Y/N. Rather at her form that relaxed against him, and the feel of her in his arms suddenly became his sole focus. He was slightly overwhelmed, trying to juggle the chatter around him while being keenly aware of her body pressed against his.

Y/N, for her part, could feel the quick hammering of Hyunjin’s heart against her back. She tilted her head slightly, studying the furrow in his brow as he listened to the men’s banter. He seemed bothered, and she easily assumed it was the business talk that was frustrating him. But of course, the thoughts swirling in his mind were far from anything related to business.

“If you gentlemen will excuse us, we’re going to make our rounds to the other end of the hall.” Y/N politely excused, her social smile radiating under the bright lights.

Hyunjin gave a slight nod in acknowledgment as they made their way through the crowd, greeting even more acquaintances as they passed. It wasn’t until they exchanged forced pleasantries with a third businessman that Hyunjin sighed with slight frustration, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on the balcony doors.

“This way.” His fingers naturally gripped at her wrist, tugging with a slight urgency, trying to avoid getting stopped yet again.

The fresh evening air was a welcome relief from the stifling heat of the event halls. They stepped onto the balcony, and Hyunjin quietly closed the door behind them. Y/N leaned against the stone railing, gazing out over the dark, sprawling gardens. She exhaled deeply, the cool breeze ruffling her hair.

“Damn, should’ve grabbed some drinks on the way.” Hyunjin commented, casually tossing his dark blazer around her shoulders to protect her from the evening chill.

An action that doesn’t even phase his wife. As if she was used to it. Y/N glanced at him as he mirrored her stance, his back resting against the railing.

“Feeling better?” He asked, his voice casual.

Except his question made her furrow her brows in confusion.

“Didn’t you need the breath of fresh air?”

Hyunjin blinked, slightly taken aback by her question

“No…I thought you did. Isn’t that why you lied about greeting other people back there?” He tilted his head, a note of his own confusion in his voice.

“—Wasn’t it because you needed to talk to me?” He added.

Y/N straightened, glancing over his puzzled expression, raising an eyebrow.

“I lied because you came to me, didn’t you need to speak to me?”

“You’re the one who called me!” Hyunjin exclaimed, head slightly reeling from the circles their conversation was going in.

“And why would I call you?” Y/N crossed her arms over her chest, raising a brow.

The dark-haired man was going to argue that his brother had told him so. But then it hit him.

His brother lied.

Hwang Hyunsoo had given him an excuse to leave before he said something harsh to that young lady back there. The older brother was yet again, saving him from embarrassing himself.

Hyunjin sighed, his shoulders dropping as he released the tension in his posture.

“God, I have a headache.” He muttered under his breath instead, though Y/N didn’t seem to hear him. She scoffed.

“And besides, you seemed busy entertaining those women back there, I wouldn’t have called even if I wanted.” She shot him a glance.

“Must’ve been a real pain to tear yourself away and come find me.”

Her words were meant as a jab, but instead of feeling offended, Hyunjin couldn’t suppress the smug grin that tugged at his lips. The supposed headache he was getting, was suddenly forgotten.

“You’ve been watching me?” His smile widened, his amusement evident.

“I had to. Every time some girl threw herself at you, my mother was breathing down my neck, telling me to keep you in check.” Y/N rolled her eyes in response, annoyed all over again.

Hyunjin chuckled, the tension between them easing.

“I’ll duck the next time some girl throws herself at me then.” His eyes crinkled with his laughter.

His stupid answer only made her groan, unamused as she rolled her eyes again.

The silence settled between them as his laughter died down, eyes following hers to peer over the railing and watch the darkness before them.

The trophy husband suddenly glanced over at her with a fondness that was quickly becoming impossible to suppress. Watching as she pulled his blazer tighter around her body, the evening chill brought goosebumps and slight shivers.

Yet, as the two of them looked out to the night sky, it felt blissful.

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Y/N Yeom might have eased around Hyunjin, comfortable in the titles of “husband and wife”, considering him as business-partner, perhaps a friend even, in their strange dynamic, but that didn’t change how others viewed him. And he had gotten a taste of it that evening of his father’s party.

The trophy husband had been so preoccupied with following Y/N’s advice, avoiding his father-in-law, dodging the old man’s request for a “friendly chat”, that he’d almost overlooked her insufferable cousin.

The same cousin who apparently lived in the same complex as them, which Hyunjin wasn’t aware of until he was standing in the lobby in the cousin’s presence. The air between them, already hostile.

The last time Hyunjin had seen him was at that same party a few weeks back. Although they exchanged brief greetings, it was clear that Y/N despised him and didn’t let them linger in his presence longer than needed.

He could see why she didn’t like him.

Alex Yeom had always been a smug asshole. He made questionable choices behind closed doors but was a good businessman. If people knew about his unsavory habits, they’d undoubtedly prefer the new Yeom son-in-law over him.

But Hyunjin did not care. He wasn’t interested in any of that.

Now, as Alex eyed him with something devious clearly brewing in his mind, Hyunjin stood with his hands in his pockets, trying to appear indifferent.

“I thought Y/N would’ve put you on a leash by now. But seeing you wandering around idly, I guess even she’s failed at that.” Alex said with a mocking laugh that already grated on Hyunjin’s nerves.

But he stayed silent, keeping himself calm. And seeing that the remark had no effect on Hyunjin who stood nonchalant, the cousin continued to retort with nonsense.

“Must be nice, freeloading off your wife?” Alex sneered, shaking his head as he recalled the women who surrounded his new brother-in-law the last time they met.

“You get to play your part of the playboy while you're at it too. I’d say you’re living up to your reputation. And they told me to worry about you.” He was openly laughing now, a bitterness in his words.

Hyunjin’s lips barely twitched. But he kept himself composed. He was no stranger to insults, most of them came from his own family anyways.

But here stood this fool, spewing out hollow jabs in efforts to get a rise out of him.

Instead, the new cousin-in-law kept his hands in his pockets, but his posture was tight. Every muscle in his body wound up like a spring. A part of him nudged to retaliate, but he remained still. Alex’s mocking words scraped at his nerves, but he wouldn't let this idiot see it.

At least he had that in common with Y/N.

Instead, Hyunjin sighed, his mouth opening to deliver a bored “sure” or something equally dismissive, anything to make the incessant chatter stop.

Yet even before the words could leave his lips, a sharp, resonant thud shattered the fragile tension in the lobby. Y/N’s form had almost flown between them, her face contorted with a mix of anger and a glint of something else. Without a word, her leg snapped up in one swift motion, landing a hard, kick to Alex’s shin.

An action that made Hyunjin flinch, while Alex let out a sharp hiss. The younger cousin’s eyes immediately widened in shock, and he let out a pained groan, hopping on one foot as he clutched his leg.

“What the fuck—” He began, but Y/N cut him off with a sharp, icy glare.

“Oh? Was it you, Alex? I thought a dog had snuck in, given all the barking I was hearing.” She said, her voice dripping with feigned surprise.

Hyunjin blinked, caught off guard—not only by her sudden appearance, but by the violence of her actions.

This was a side of Y/N he had never seen before. An unexpected side.

Cold. Uncompromising.

Alex staggered back, rubbing his shin as he glared at her.

“H-how can you do this out in the open?” He grunted, his eyes flicking nervously toward a stunned Hyunjin and then around to the few residents that watched the scene unfold.

“Well, you were being loudly disrespectful to my husband, weren’t you? Where’s your manners? I’m sure your mother had taught them to you.” Y/N retorted, shrugging nonchalantly as if the stares of others didn’t bother her at all.

Her words hung in the air like a slap. Alex opened his mouth to protest, the younger cousin falling silent as he realized his response would perhaps lead to nothing but his further humiliation.

Y/N turned her attention back to Hyunjin, her gaze softening but her grip on his wrist tight. It was then that Hyunjin noticed the firm hold she had on him. Something he hadn’t even realized until now.

“Let’s go.” Her tone was calm, yet the tug she had on his arm, not waiting for an answer as she led him away, gave way to her anger.

Hyunjin’s legs seemed to move on their own. Unable to find the words to respond with, simply allowing himself to be pulled along.

His eyes raked over her form. Resolute, frustrated.

Fascinating.

This was Y/N, the woman who had always been so poised, so controlled... but in this moment, she was something else entirely.

Suddenly he felt his cheeks tinge.

In the car, Y/N’s frustration was evident, a string of curses escaping her lips.

“Who the hell does he think he is? That asshole only knows how to run his mouth and nothing else.” She muttered, her eyes focused on the road.

The dark-haired man watched her in silence, a mix of admiration and bewilderment settling in.

“I should’ve punched him instead and wiped that smug look off his face.” She turned to look at the quiet man in the next seat.

“—And you! You should’ve said something, how could you just stand there?!” Y/N snapped, her anger still simmering.

Hyunjin remained silent, stunned all over again as she directed her frustrations towards at him. Unable to quite understand why she was upset with him now.

Minutes passed, and by the time they stopped at the next light, Y/N seemed to have calmed down. She huffed for what felt like an eternity, only to glance over at him again, surprise slowly creeping across her face.

“Wait… where were we even headed?” She asked, glancing around as if she had lost track of their destination, which, in reality, she probably didn’t have one to begin with.

There was a split-second of silence before Hyunjin let out a sudden, uncontrollable laugh. One he had been holding back ever since she had shoved him into the passenger seat.

“I would say… towards the gallery?” He suggested between his chuckles, recognizing the familiar streets around them.

Y/N groaned, the last of her frustration giving way to amusement.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” She muttered, shaking her head as she continued to drive.

He only could let out another laugh, shrugging.

He wasn’t sure either.

Why was he rendered speechless ever since she arrived back then. Only watching as cursed her cousin, as she scolded him.

It was more sides of Y/N that he had uncovered.

Protective, fiery, and unafraid to speak her mind.

Hyunjin had always known she was aggressively proud and protective of the people and things she cared about. He wasn’t surprised she had those qualities.

But he hadn’t realized that it extended to him as well.

That he was also a part of her things, a part of her people.

And what Alex had said wasn’t entirely wrong.

Hyunjin had been drifting through life, moving from one thing to the next with no real purpose. But even as his mind tried to process everything that had happened, the warmth of Y/N’s fingers lingering on his wrist brought him a sense of…belonging.

A sense of comfort he hadn’t realized he needed.

That phantom touch, still hot against his skin, stirred that weird sensation inside him again, a feeling he couldn’t ignore. It had been there ever since she’d complimented his cooking, a quiet warmth he was starting to recognize... and not one he was ready to let go of.

Like the searing grasp that still seemed to burn on his wrist, lingering long after they had forgotten all about Alex and the nonsense he’d spewed, the questions of why Hyunjin was suddenly feeling this way continued to haunt him.

But, it wasn’t just the touch that tug at his thoughts, it was everything.

When he found himself trailing after her, his heart lifting at the familiar sound of the apartment door opening and she entered. When he would chatter over dinner, watching as she ate with carefree gusto, her compliments flowing freely over whatever he had thrown together.

There was a strange warmth in these moments. Something that felt like it had been awakened in him, though he couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. It was as if something inside him was getting ready to burst, but even as he recognized the shift, he was still unsure how to label any of it.

What he did know, however, was that he enjoyed being by her side more than he had ever expected.

The gallery director’s husband, that future version of himself who would eventually have the answers, would figure out the specifics later. For now, Hyunjin was content just to be the one who received her genuine laughter, the sound of it filling him with an inexplicable warmth. He loved how her jokes, always blunt and sometimes a little too honest, would make him stifle his laughter, a quiet amusement settling in his chest.

And then there were the softer moments.

The sight of her curled under the blankets, her hair a mess, traces of sleep clinging to her face. A look that Hyunjin suddenly found more beautiful than anything he’d ever seen before.

Even prettier than those actresses. Those models that he had once thought were so.

But the questions still fluttered, just beneath the surface.

A part of him was aware of the growing attachment, the pull he couldn’t ignore.

While another part, a quieter, more cautious part, waited for a sign.

And a sign seemed to come easily to him.

Especially when the playboy husband found his eyes trailing over Y/N more often than he ever cared to admit. It was in those moments that he found his sign.

The one he had given himself without even realizing it.

The business couple was preparing for yet another event, hosted by an business acquaintance of hers.

Hyunjin stood in the doorway, watching her get ready, his figure leaning casually against the frame. His gaze wandered over her as she applied the finishing touches to her makeup. Her eyes darted over to the reflection of his figure behind her.

“I’m surprised you got ready first.” Y/N mused, with a soft laugh, glancing at him as she adjusted her lipstick.

Hyunjin chuckled, his lips curving into a smile. He dropped his head, ready to respond with something snarky perhaps. Something that would catch her off guard, make her falter as she applied her lip gloss.

He could already picture her narrowing her brows, throwing him a mock glare, and then muttering something that would set him off into laughter.

Something that would usually happen in these situations.

But the words never came.

As he gazed at her reflection, something stopped him.

The gallery director’s husband caught a glimpse of himself, lounging against the door-frame. His body had been poised in that position for the past half hour, watching her with quiet intensity.

But now, as he saw himself in the mirror, it hit him.

All the answers to the questions that had been gnawing at him.

Those badgering thoughts that surged through him late at nights when he was heavily aware of her form next to him, chest heaving up and down, breathing softly, deeper into her slumber.

The thoughts that would poke at his mind whenever he found himself following her every move, his eyes lingering a moment too long on her.

He stared at his reflection, his gaze locked with his own, and for the first time, it was all too clear.

The look in his eyes was far too familiar.

He’s seen them plenty of times. Plenty of glimpses of it, ones that had often brought a smug smile to his lips. Smiles that parted as he leaned in to whisper sweet, empty, words.

It was the look that women gave him.

The gleam in their eyes, the wide smiles, the soft blush on their cheeks.

It was desire.

It was attraction.

It was infatuation.

Hyunjin stilled against the door-frame. His entire body suddenly relaxed as he realized.

What did a playboy perhaps in love turn into?

A lunatic.

Because the playboy soon found himself doing things that felt... out of character.

His sleep-hazed eyes would follow her every movement as she hauled herself out of bed at ungodly hours. Times that Hyunjin was still not used to waking, yet still stirred from his sleep.

He had always hated mornings.

Hated the way the sun would already be shining bright for no reason at all.

Yet, there he was, brewing a pot of coffee, a quiet habit he had started for no other reason than the fact that he noticed she liked it prepared before she headed out. And each morning, when she stepped out of the bathroom, still half-dazed from sleep, she would blink in surprise at the sight of his groggy, hunched figure standing by the counter. It had been weeks since he began this routine, but her surprise still hadn’t worn off.

“How can someone sleep with all the noise you make?” He’d mutter, offering the same lame excuse he always did.

But it was a lie.

Hwang Hyunjin couldn’t tell her that he was slowly weaving himself into her routine. That he was positioning himself to become a fixture in her life. To make her so accustomed to having him there, make her rely on him for small, mundane things like making coffee.

He couldn’t tell her that he had started catching feelings for her, his wife.

Tell her how undeniably attracted he was to her, his wife.

She’d laugh in his face. He was sure of it.

And though the thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. He found himself still doing things he never would have imagined before, things he thought might bring a smile to her face.

Things that betrayed his playboy reputation.

Things that the old Hwang Hyunjin would have scoffed at, would laugh in disbelief of his current self’s antics.

The second Hwang son had always been the type to accept whatever life threw at him. His status, his place within his family. Though they had all fallen into place because he hadn’t bothered to prevent them, hadn’t cared enough to even attempt to challenge them. Deep down, he knew it all came back to his own bad choices.

And now, here he was, caught in yet another predicament. One he’d accepted just as easily, though this one hadn’t been a result of his choices.

Or maybe it was.

Maybe when he had stepped into that bridal room, drawn in by the panic in her eyes, he had already made his choice.

Maybe when he had locked the door behind him, rushing to her side to calm her, to soothe that clench in his chest, he had sealed his fate.

Now, he sat there, a fool, quietly acknowledging the fact that he was infatuated with his wife. Y/N, who, clearly, didn’t feel the same.

It was almost laughable. Ironic, really.

The playboy, the playboy, had developed a crush.

And it was one he couldn’t chase with his charms or good looks.

Hwang Hyunjin had truly fallen for the ambitious gallery director.

Who wouldn’t?

Just look at her.

And, of course, he looked.

His gaze lingering, tracing. Shamelessly ogling the one woman who was suddenly off limits.

Y/N, his wife.

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There had been a quiet shift somewhere along the way.

The self-proclaimed workaholic had noticed it easily, even though she wasn’t usually the type to catch such things so quickly.

Y/N Yeom had always immersed herself in her passions. In her brand and her business. And though it might seem like it, that she had no time for any of it, she wasn’t entirely clueless when it came to men, having had her share of boyfriends over the years. But most of those relationships had ended for one reason.

She was too focused on her work.

There was nothing “girlfriend-worthy” about her.

Even if the gallery director had thick skin, never letting those words dig deep enough to prick her, they still left her with an uneasy sense of…imperfection.

Y/N was ambitious, there was no doubt there. And even if she might not have been the “perfect daughter,” she liked to think she came close, compared to other high-class children at least. As a businesswoman, she was near flawless, her gallery thriving and her career booming.

She had dreamed of being the perfect wife too, once.

But that dream faded when her eyes were opened.

She had long since given up on that goal.

Even so, Y/N apparently wasn’t perfect in the eyes of the men she’d dated. At least, not the “perfect lover” they wanted.

And that’s what irked her, slightly.

If she couldn’t be a perfect lover, she knew for sure that becoming a perfect wife was out of question.

Besides the way her wedding, her marriage had all happened, it was all far from what one would call perfect.

Not that she ever wanted to be the “perfect wife” to Hwang Hyunjin of all people.

The man’s reputation had long preceded him, and Y/N was sure he would drive her mad. She had already imagined herself holed up in her office. Taking solace there to escape her trophy husband’s playboy tendencies. Ready to either kill him or shoot herself from the headaches he would give her.

But the soft pats of his hand against her back, had shattered all that.

He had done something so unexpected, those less-than expectations that had clouded her mind ever since she agreed to marry him, seemed to have faded.

“Breathe…”

His tone had been soft, soothing, yet enough to pull her out of the storm of emotions swirling inside her.

When he kissed her, she should have been angry. She should’ve been furious that he’d pulled such a “Hyunjin stunt.” But somehow, those feelings evaded her. Instead, she felt an odd sense of gratitude. The press of his lips against hers brought her back to reality. Back to her supposed perfect love story, one where she could at least pretend to be the perfect wife.

She had expected more of those.

More of those moments for her to pretend to be the perfect wife.

More of the kisses.

Although she swore it wasn’t because she liked seeing the shocked expression in his eyes when she kissed him back, she knew her competitiveness had played a role.

But the kisses never came.

Hwang Hyunjin, the playboy, had never once tried anything with his supposed wife.

Maybe she should have been grateful for that. It crossed off one worry from the list of things that could give her a headache.

It was still strange. Seeing all these sides of Hyunjin she hadn’t thought existed.

For so long, Y/N had believed him to be nothing more than the pretentious second son of the Hwang empire.

A narcissist, lazy and indulgent, with little ambition beyond lounging around.

But maybe she had judged him too harshly. Maybe her assumptions were fueled by her own bitterness, by the nagging belief that her father had screwed her over.

Her mind wandered back to their wedding day. Back to his figure leaning against the wall, his eyes fixed on her as the makeup artist scrambled to fix the disaster that had become her face. Hyunjin had watched with an intensity, eyes full of… concern, was it?

Yet, she didn’t find his presence there odd.

And here she was now watching him intently.

Her eyes raked over his figure, studying him from across the room, his figure sprawled across the long sofa he’d picked out, while she sat on the floor, surrounded by her work.

Y/N had a habit of unloading everything onto the living room table. Her papers, files, and her laptop all strewn about. With her back pressed against the smaller sofa, she typed away like a machine.

It was always just her and her work.

Quiet. Lonesome.

But now, even in this silence, even as she focused on the screen in front of her, her eyes would flicker over to him. Hyunjin was in his own little world, oblivious to her gaze, but something about the way he existed in this quiet room, it didn’t feel lonesome at all.

His presence here, anything but odd.

Y/N was honestly surprised to find Hyunjin here at this hour. By now, she had grown used to his late-night disappearances. His notorious escapades and parties. Yet, somewhere along the way, even those late-night adventures had become a rare occurrence.

The first time she came home to find him lounging on the sofa, feet kicked up on the table, watching a cooking show, she had been a little stunned. It wasn’t at all what she expected from the playboy she thought she knew. But somehow, over time, it had just become a new normal.

And these days, instead of disappearing into the night, he had developed an unexpected habit of evening reading.

The thought of it still made her laugh.

Y/N would often find herself watching him in quiet fascination as his fingers turned the pages of whatever novel he was engrossed in. It was always the same book. One he was still working through. One she had noticed just a few days ago.

She’d sometimes do a double-take, just to make sure she wasn’t imagining the scene.

And then, during particularly gripping parts of the story, he’d gasp, his eyes lighting up as he looked up at her, eager to share the latest twist.

He would wait. For her to sigh and ask and suddenly his words would surge out. He would eagerly break down what he had read, passionate rambles about characters and plotlines she barely knew.

Oddly enough, Y/N didn’t mind listening to his random recaps, even when they pulled her away from whatever she was doing.

For Y/N, distractions usually grated on her nerves. Yet, there was something undeniably charming about Hyunjin’s excitement.

The sparkle in his eyes when he talked about the latest plot twist or character development was…captivating. It reminded her of the same glimmer she saw when he engaged in the most mundane activities. The ones that brought him joy she assumed, whether it was playing computer games, watering the plants on the balcony while humming some off-key tune, or even just lounging around in the quiet.

She had noticed it. And she wasn’t sure exactly when it had started catching her attention.

But one thing was certain. Y/N didn’t hate it at all.

She had thought they would be just fine. Her initial worry about having to “babysit” in the pretense of marriage. About reforming the second Hwang, the screw-up of a son, had begun to melt away.

Y/N had almost forgotten about the playboy’s nature.

Almost.

As she walked into the quiet house one evening, she immediately noticed that Hyunjin was nowhere to be seen in the living room that he loved lazing around in at this time. Her eyes swooped over the dim livingroom, settling on the coffee table. He was always the one cleaning up the mess she’d left behind on it the night prior, only for her to undo it all again. It had become a cycle of his complaining as he tidied, but had never really stopped doing it.

Her eyes began to search the space instinctively, trying to locate him.

It was a rare weekday evening when Y/N returned home earlier than usual. Typically, the workaholic in her stayed late into the night, but lately, she had been working tirelessly to get ahead so she could enjoy some free time without guilt.

Recently, the gallery director had started feeling a pang of remorse. Hyunjin was always waiting for her, no matter how late she came home or how much she told him not to.

It was strange how things had shifted over the past few months. Where once they had coexisted like mere roommates, now it felt more like they were friends. Hyunjin’s goofy laughter, his carefree nature, was starting to grow on the usually overbearing gallery director.

A breath of fresh air in her hectic life.

But as she walked down the corridor of their apartment, her steps faltered. The distant sounds coming from the bedroom caught her attention.

A string of groans and grunts. His strained whispers, muttered curses, echoed in the stillness.

Lewd, unmistakable sounds that pointed to only one conclusion.

Y/N’s brows furrowed, the confusion quickly giving way to simmering anger as she reached out to grip the doorknob. Her mind instantly jumping back to her initial worries about him.

Hwang Hyunjin the playboy. The rake. The womanizer.

How dare he bring someone home? And to her bed, no less.

She had warned him.

She had made it crystal clear that if he ever did something as foolish as this, she’d make his life a living hell.

All men were the same, after all.

Her grip on the doorknob tightened, anger flooding her veins, her heart hammering in her chest.

But when she flung open the door and stood there, her knuckles white from gripping the doorknob, the scene before her was nothing like what she had anticipated. Her furrowed brows of anger rising as she took in whatever she burst into.

Hyunjin was sitting on the bed, his cock in fist, sweat beading on his forehead.

The bathrobe he had on was undone and barely hanging onto his body. His body on full display as he looked up at her sudden figure with wide, stunned eyes, completely frozen by her unexpected intrusion.

“Shit—sorry!” She almost exclaimed, mortified words tumbling out before she could stop them.

In a flash, she spun around on her heels, yanking the door shut with a sharp slam.

Y/N stood rigidly in front of the now-closed door, eyes fixed on the ground, her cheeks burning with heat. She could hear him on the other side of the door, scrambling, probably more flustered than she was.

Yet, all her mind could do was replay the image she had just walked in on, over and over. And no matter how hard she tried to focus on something else, her mind kept replaying the image she had intruded onto. Of Hyunjin, sitting there, his bathrobe hanging open, looking caught in a moment he clearly didn’t expect.

His fingers wrapped around his erection.

She gulped, throat feeling dry. Her hands cupped her cheeks, feeling the heat surging over her skin, trying to calm her erratic heart from beating so freaking fast.

Boy, he was big after all. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ to be continued.

── ask to be tagged! (18+) - @jellyleggz, @binniesbabe, @bookswillfindyouaway, @lemonn015, @scarlet789, @onlyhyunjin @freekyfangirl, @candyquokka, @jehhskz, @stayjinnie, @minh0scat, @qwonyoung23, @kpopjackie, @rundontwalkshesaid, @sheerfreesia007, @thecutiepieme, @danihwang882, @hyunebunx, @seeeeking-skz, @velvetmoonlght, @alrm02, @tirena1, @cybergracie, @notevenheretbh1, @piscesrising01, @alisonyus, @hyuneyeon, @broken-glowsticks, @modesttiger, @gnabnahcbby, @hanniesdegree, @lenfilms, @sushiinmidnight, @chrisbangsass, @fixation-dump, @shhyucm, @suzyhhj, @d34thon2legs, @dessianna1, @hityoulikebahng, @tsunderelino, @minluvly, @hanadulsetaad (43/50)

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akutasoda · 3 days ago

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Hii could you please write something about kissing all over fyodors face and leaving red lipstick marks 💋 <3 tysm have a nice day

lipstick stains

synopsis - peppering his face in kisses and leaving a lasting mark

includes - fyodor

warnings - gn!reader, reader wears lipstick, fluff, slight crack, wc - 408

a/n: hope you have a nice day too anon ^^

fyodor was always busy.

you knew that it was because of his “work” or whatever lie he spun about it, and you'd come to accept that he had things that took up a lot of his time. but it wouldn't be out of the question to wish for some actual quality time with him.

although admittedly those factors meant that the time he actually put aside just for you was all the more special. most of the time, if you really desired to spend time with him, and were lucky enough for fyodor to actually be there, you could go and sit with him in his office.

but today you managed to catch him coming home. a brief moment in which he would be able to give you his complete attention before he either left again or retreated to his office. and today it was the former, so you had an agenda.

earlier today, a purchase was made by yourself for a brand new tube of lipstick. and what better way to test it than showing your lover just how much affection you had for him by peppering his face in kisses.

admittedly that was a difficult task in itself. fyodor wasn't exactly one for giving or receiving affection but he did always become weak for you. with enough persistence from your side, you could get fyodor to agree to your whims unbeknownst to your true intentions.

and that's where you were now. you had fyodor's face cupped between your hands and pressing kisses to any available part of his face. from his cheeks trailing across to his nose, corners of his lips and even his forehead. each kiss left a rather distinct waxy mark that reflected the shape of your lips.

in all honesty you found it rather hilarious how he hadn't figured out what you were doing and even as he forced you off him, fyodor was none the wiser to what happened. you had to stifle your laughter at the image of fyodor with his usual neutral face covered in lipstick stains from you otherwise he may have become suspicious of your antics.

you could only hope that he noticed before he actually left, otherwise you may be responsible for quite a furious fyodor later (although you would have no regrets).

#x reader #x gender neutral reader #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #bungo stray dogs x you #bsd x you #bsd fyodor #fyodor x reader

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omenfailure · 3 days ago

Text

Morgott and Symbolism of Leprosy

Foreword, I’m not familiar with writing long texts and analysis in English. Please keep that in mind regarding poor formulation or grammar. Thanks!

Leprosy

Leprosy, or Hansen’s disease, is a contagious autoimmune infection. It is often characterized by rashes, hypoalgesia (decreased sensitivity to pain) and visible lumps on your skin, or nodules. Someone who’s suffering from leprosy is commonly referred to as “lepers.” Leprosy usually stems from poverty and closeness to infected people.

The disease has been around for millennia and has been generously documented in the Bible. They have always been heavily stigmatized for being a curse caused by the lepers' sins.

Leviticus 13:2-3

“When anyone has a swelling or a rash or a shiny spot on their skin that may be a defiling skin disease, they must be brought to Aaron the priest or to one of his sons, who is a priest [...] “When the priest examines that person, he shall pronounce them ceremonially unclean.”

The leper was prohibited from being around 50 paces (125 feet/38 meters) of another person, including family.

Numbers 5:2

“Command the people of Israel that they put out of the camp everyone who is leprous or has a discharge and everyone who is unclean through contact with the dead.”

Leviticus 13:45

"The leprous person who has the disease shall wear torn clothes and let the hair of his head hang loose, and he shall cover his upper lip and cry out, ‘Unclean, unclean.’”

The leper was forced to wear a branded sackcloth, rags, a cross and a bell they rang when approaching people. They were obligated to announce their presence to warn townsfolk. They were often veiled due to their deformities and were depicted wearing hats in art. Unrelated to leprosy, but Cesare Borgia was forced to wear a mask when his face was disfigured by syphilis.

The Fell design

Starting with Morgott’s design, there are correlations to medieval leper attire. Wearing rags, commonly depicted with a staff and shrouding their face.

I will be using references from the lovely Tarnussy who made a fantastic reference masterpost for Morgott.

Morgott is wearing rags tied together with a loose rope around his neck (which is sinister.) It has two knots, which is something prominent in the twin's designs. He has a big, loose hood as well. Though unable to by his horns, you can hide your face with them. Despite being a descendant of Godfrey and Marika, he hides in rags he similarly wore as a shunned child. He possesses similarities to both of his parents, Godfrey's white hair, big nose, and Marika’s first letter.

All of the Demigods have names that start with either of their parent's initials, as well as hair color. Radagon’s and Rennala’s children’s names start with R, Malenia and Miquella starting with M, while Malenia has Radagon’s red hair, etc.

Morgott (and Mohg) having the same naming convention as their mother instead of his father is a peculiar choice, which begs the question of what qualities relate to which parent or if it’s coincidental. Perhaps there was a motherly bond initially, but I digress.

Credit to Tarnussy for both screenshots

Morgott has a lot of hair. His head hair is quite thick, and while it might be a reach, I’d argue the partial idea is to hide his face with his growing beard(?). Considering the length of it I imagine there was a need to trim parts of it for battle. And get this man some Calvin Klein boxers.

He also wanders with his cane, which lepers were portrayed as having. Hiding his Accursed Sword within. It was a tactical decision to hide it, as he recanted the belief of the accursed blood or Blood Oath. He only wields it when necessary, as a last resort. Allowing himself to be him, despite being riddled with guilt and shame until his last moment.

“People scrambling to get away from a person with leprosy” by R. Cooper, 1912 (?)

Lastly, a direct hint towards the visual symptoms of leprosy is his nose. He has a big nose with visible bumps along the edges of his alar cartilage and fibrofatty tissue. His nose has a blue hue, highlighting it against his grayish-brown face. Nodules and pustules are common in leprosy, it has similarities to rhinophyma (a skin condition, unrelated to leprosy.)

He looks like a sopping wet dog

Identity of the Fell

The main theme of Morgott is the cycle of shame and stigmatization. There are different ways to interpret it, but that’s the gist of it. He’s the opposite of Mohg, sticking by the fundamentalist Order rather than freeing himself. He carries a lot of guilt and shame, remaining loyal to the Order that wants him dead. He’s very insistent on being cursed, very.

Remembrance of the Omen King.

“Though born one of the graceless Omen, Morgott took it upon himself to become the Erdtree's protector. He loved not in return, for he was never loved, but nevertheless, love it he did.”

Phase two transition, during his fight in Leyndell.

“The thrones...stained by my curse... Such shame I cannot bear. Thy part in this shall not be forgiven.”

Phase two, player kill.

“May the curse seep to thy very soul.”

He’s ashamed of his affliction, his curse of being an Omen. He protects and guards the Erdtree, the resting place of his imprisoned mother.

He’s ashamed of his affliction, the curse of being an Omen, something he could not choose. He protects and guards the Erdtree, the resting place of his imprisoned mother, who harbored hate towards the Hornsent.

He spent most of his life in the Shunning-Grounds, akin to a leprosarium (leprosy colony) for the twins. They could interact without risking public outrage. Being bound to the sewers was a privilege, as only Omen royals were hidden from the dangerous world. I digress. It instilled the belief that he bore an unrelenting curse, never to be freed from it. The thoughts of guilt began early.

He is the rightful Lord of Leyndell, earning the nickname as the Veiled Monarch. No one knew of his identity or the fact he was an Omen. During the Second Defense of Leyndell he fought as Margit, the Fell. A ferocious warrior, he infused fear within those wandering outside the outer walls, taking the shape of a scrawny Commoner.

There is likely more to be said that I can’t think of right now. I’ll likely update the post with an update. I find the Omen twins very fascinating in how they contrast the others in belief, design, and identity. They’re reminiscent of the Protestant and Catholic faith, although not fully.

TL;DR: I may or may not like Morgott. Thanks for reading!

Here’s some sources, I have like 100 tabs open so it’s not all. https://www.news-medical.net/health/Leprosy-Stigma.aspxhttps://www.gotquestions.org/Bible-leprosy.html + https://www.bibleref.com/https://www.1177.se/sjukdomar--besvar/skelett-leder-och-muskler/leder/sle/

Art, some I can’t source due to their age. https://wellcomecollection.org/works/akr8427s + https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Richard_Tennant_Cooper

#not putting this under a cut #because I say so!#elden ring #morgott #morgott the omen king #morgott the grace given #shadow of the erdtree #margit the fell omen #elden ring theory crafting #yap

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justin-chapmanswers · 17 hours ago

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hi Justin! just want to say I ADORE ii and it's one of my favourite shows out there; actually inspired me to start my own!

which is a lame segue into my question- do you have any advice for someone wanting to make their own show?

That's so exciting!! Art makes art!

Oh golly uhhhh. There's so so much to say in so many different departments. So. I'll keep it broad and of course anyone can ask more specific questions haha.

My go-to advice tends to be for creators to start as small as possible early on. Even if you aspire to create projects that are huge-in-scale down the line. So much about becoming a great artist involves moving through the stages of your art (whatever type it may be!) from start-to-finish, every step of the process, over and over and over again. So say in show creation, idk if you plan to be hands-on in every department or if you have a lot of help, but that could mean breaking down stories and outlining, writing, recording, constructing audio scenes and boarding, character and prop and background design, animating, music assembly, mixing, finalizing and editing, etc, over and over again. Obviously not every step may be involved in your project depending on what your goal is, but whatever it is that you do, do it sooooooooo many times.

While there's nothing inherently wrong with jumping in and making your first project something say, movie-length, or something immensely complex in scope, I do find it can, for many (not all) be limiting when it comes to learning a lot of fundamental building-blocks in craft. As well, I see a lot of people get lost in an overwhelming project, trying to focus on quality>quantity right out of the gate. But spending the majority of your time just on adding some extra polish as opposed to running through the whole process again and again can only do so much for you. Obviously, a mentality of quality>quantity is great once you have a strong baseline understanding of production. But again, I think it's a huge plus to work on shorts and teeny-projects to start.

Since the above is pretty dry, I'll add an additional fun one. I've found that a lot of newer artists will toss away the concepts that make them joyous in hopes that they can instead create something that fits an objective perception of "professional." Nothing wrong with that, but I strongly advise artists of all levels of experience to toss everything they've love about the world and other media into their work. Their favorite genres and tropes, the stupid inside jokes that make them light up with their friends that they can invite the audience in-on, adaptations of stories that have made them cry. Create the things YOU love to experience. It's fine to let go of what you think the audience wants. Cause that's not easily guessable. But what YOU enjoy is something certain to you. It's sorta like how they say, it's better to go to the gym and do an suboptimal-but-fun workout that keeps you coming every day than a perfect workout that leads you to quitting. Share your joy with the world, and someone will resonate!

Be silly, be cringe, have fun!

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xalygatorx · 22 hours ago

Text

A Case of the Slumps | Alastor x Depressed!GN!Reader

Summary: It seems you've brought your brain chemistry down to Hell with you. Figures.

Warnings/Tags: Hurt/Comfort, depression and related symptoms/thoughts (obvi), cinnamon roll Charlie, Angel gives you a Xanax but you don't take it, platonic Alastor with a hint of possible unspoken romantic feelings, unexplained cause of death, present tense for some reason, reader is gender neutral

A/N: Crosspost of a recent oneshot from my AO3 because I figured if I'm in a slump, someone else probably is too. x

Sometimes it was a thought. Sometimes it was the time of year or the weather, when Hell's crimson sky was kept dark for long periods of time by an uptick of brimstone in the atmosphere or the lingering storm clouds after an acidic downpour. Sometimes it was a memory. A song. A smell.

Sometimes it was seemingly nothing at all.

Just like when you were alive, your now-dead brain hasn't lost its particular quality of liking to work against itself. It's impossible to say whether it's a continued chemical imbalance—that'd be likely right? If demons can do drugs, then clearly there's still something to brain chemistry in Hell—or if death took a snapshot of your self and your mind as they were in life.

It doesn't really matter what it is either because it still affects you just the same. And because you haven't had a depressive episode yet post-mortem, you haven't done any of the legwork you had to do in life on your own to figure out what's "wrong" with you, who might hear you and listen, and what medication(s) works.

So when it does hit, it hits like a tidal wave no one else can see. The wave itself, anyway—everyone can see you drowning.

That first slump isn't kind enough to hit in the morning when you can sleep in—or rather stare with dead eyes at the wall, bundled under your duvet and blankets as you put off the day passing by around you. No, that first slump hits in the middle of one of Charlie's exercises, one that you were enthusiastic about participating in just an hour ago. What happened?

You know. This feeling is an old friend you'd hoped to never meet again.

Charlie doesn't though, not right away. After you excuse yourself by means of referencing a stomachache you only kind of have—and only from the emptiness pooling in your gut and humming in your chest—she catches up to you in the hallway.

"Hey!" she chirps, leaning around to look at you when you stop but don't turn around. If anything, you curl further into yourself. She doesn't notice though—the only ones who would notice your change are the ones who know to look for it. Charlie, bless her heart, doesn't have that earthly world experience yet. "Do you want us to wait up for you or…?"

"Oh, uh, no," you stammer out, yearning for a big hoodie to comfortably drown in or a cup of tea, the idea of which sounds lovely but you don't even like tea. Everything that would normally feel like a treat sounds stressful or unappetizing, leaving you uncertain about what exactly you're meant to be doing. That's when the lethargy hits hardest. "I don't feel well, so I'm just gonna rest for a while."

Charlie's brow scrunches. You can tell she's about to argue that you'll never get into Heaven if you don't stick to the exercises and something akin to a sudden flash of anger roils in your chest, kicking the dead gray weight of apathy in the teeth. Because how dare she question your commitment, your hopes, your dreams, because you're walking away this one time?

But if this is like life, if this can happen again now, how many more times will it happen? Is it over for you?

Something clicks behind her eyes though as she watches your face. You don't know this, of course, but she's seen the same look on Vaggie's face before. Primarily right after they found each other—Vaggie also fell into a pit of her own pain and trauma, a victim of her new normal until the new normal became preferable.

And, on those days, Vaggie didn't always want to be with Charlie. At some point, Charlie had to learn that it often had nothing to do with her when that happened, too. It helped her understand her father better, too, in the end. She'd needed to reach out to him, but she'd had to let Vaggie come to her when she was ready. Both were valid approaches for different people.

She decides to trust that you'll make it clear to her what you need when you're ready.

"Okay," she says and her kind voice spears your anger with guilt, killing it instantly. You were always good at that, weren't you? Pushing away the people who care. "You have my number. You have everyone's number—well, everyone with a phone anyway. Just let us know if you need something. Anything. Okay?"

You clench your teeth to hold back the burn of tears working its way up your throat. "Okay. Thanks, Charlie," you say and it comes out as sincerely as you mean it, which is good. At least something's gone right today.

"Would you like a hug?" Charlie offers, starting to hold out her arms and then hesitating when she wonders if that could feel like she was pressuring you.

You think about it and decide it's worth a try. "Sure," you say and you step into her arms. She runs even hotter than the other sinners you've met, being Hellborn. It's like cozying up just a couple inches too close to a fireplace, but it doesn't burn. She just feels like the hearth in the place that's swiftly become your home.

She doesn't let go before you're ready, but the second she feels you shift to step back, she lets her arms drop. She gives you a little wave before scampering back down the hall to resume the exercise in the lobby, leaving you to resume your trek to the elevator.

Once you're in the elevator and you've tapped the button for your floor, you fall back against the wall of the lift and run your hands down your face, sighing into your palms.

What you wouldn't give for an on-paper, calculable test that you could fill out and hand to a doctor or psychologist or someone who could tell you with complete certainty what's wrong with your brain and how to fix or endure it. Not only so you could feel better, but so you wouldn't be such a burden to your new friends, your found family. What good were you like this?

(The reality is that the group downstairs is mildly concerned, but otherwise just fine. Charlie can manage the exercise through sheer optimism alone and she has enough bandwidth to do that and be available to you as your friend whenever you need something.

A couple of the others noticed your deflated exit, perhaps because they've once been through similar episodes, and are either just hoping you feel better or trying to come up with some nice gesture to make whenever they see you next. Everything you're worried about or sure you've messed up is a product of your dopamine-deficient brain.)

You pass Angel in the hall on your way to your room as he's heading out for work and he, of course, knows that look. He just hasn't seen it on you before. He offers you a many-armed hug and what he tells you is a Xanax, telling you to text him if you need anything or just want to talk and he'll check on you whenever he's freed from the studio next.

You appreciate his offers and agree to all of it, except the unwrapped, unlabeled pill, which you get rid of once you're in your room. You trust Angel, but you're too paranoid about making whatever you're feeling worse. You barely knew how to deal with it in life, what's it going to be like in Hell?

A stretched-out old hoodie is procured from your closet and you tug it on, smoothing your hair back down as you amble toward the bed. You burrow under the blankets and try to sleep, but of course it doesn't come. You're not tired, after all. You're not even sad. There's just nothing where there's meant to be something, anything in your chest.

Hours pass and, even though you're not helping yourself by lying curled on your side and staring at the wall, you're listless. You can't talk yourself into getting up or getting something to eat. It's even hard to convince yourself to look at your phone, maybe because you've heard it buzz a few times with texts likely asking how you're doing. You don't want to answer them until it's a good answer. Until you can say you're doing better. Anything else is a disappointment, surely, for all involved.

Someone's knuckles rapping against your door makes you jolt, but you sink back into that unsteady feeling of mentally treading water instead of answering. They'll go away if they think you're sleeping. It's probably Charlie anyway, maybe checking on you ahead of dinner. Was it really almost dinnertime?

That was enough to motivate you to extract one arm from beneath the duvet, extend your hand to your phone, and tap the screen to wake it up. It was after dinner. Time was a construct and someone was still at the door, knocking more sharply now.

You bundle your arm back under the bedding, keeping your back to the door. Charlie wasn't that hard of a knocker, so maybe she'd sent Vaggie up to check on you? Husk tended to pound on doors with the side of his fist (and not come near any potentially weepy situation with a ten-foot pole), so it probably wasn't him. It might be Angel, you supposed. Short studio session, if so. Perhaps Pen, but the source of the noise was too high up to be Niffty. She'd barge on in anyway…

"My dear, I can hear you moving around in there, you know," the Radio Demon's voice informs you through the door and your heart nearly stops a second time.

Not Alastor, you sigh inwardly, covering your face in your hands again and trying not to groan lest he hear that, too.

It wasn't that you disliked Alastor. In fact, that wasn't the case at all. You'd been a bit scared of him at first, sure, when you'd initially crossed the threshold of the Hazbin Hotel and who could blame you? He was an imposing figure, someone you'd heard of within days of falling into Hell despite his seven-year sabbatical from the Pentagram.

He was also a prominent public figure from his radio show. That was how you'd first tried to get to know him a little better—you'd started tuning into his broadcasts, getting better at predicting the shrill screams of the souls he tore apart just before they blared through your speakers. You still missed them on occasion and would violently jolt upward from wherever you were sitting or lying while listening, floundering for the volume dial and usually finding it well after you needed it.

Alastor had spotted you do exactly that once during a prerecorded broadcast and, after he'd run the gambit of jokes he could make at your expense, the barrier that had existed between you two since your arrival started to come down. And while the jarring screams hadn't stopped, your radio's volume would inexplicably drop on its own ahead of them from then on. You couldn't come up with any explanation for this that didn't include Alastor's influence, but what may have been a kindness on the Radio Demon's part was directly rivaled by his then-new penchant for bursting out of the speakers in a swirl of shadow to scare you, himself, and ask you for feedback on the day's stories.

Those interruptions had become short bouts of small talk in the hall, a couple of cooperative efforts to cook the crew a delicious dinner, him holding doors for you whenever you happened to be traversing the hotel in the same direction… Little things. Lots of little things that had ended up with you considering him a friend, but who knew how he felt. He probably just thought you were amusing. What made it even worse was that you were beginning to suspect the extra pitter-patter of your heart whenever he showed up was no longer adrenaline anticipating him scaring you, but butterflies.

You poor thing. You weren't sure you could've picked a more surefire way to make a fool of yourself.

"I'm not decent," you finally say in an attempt to deter him, wincing a little at the hoarse quality of your voice. You'd only cried a little during your time in your room that day, but you'd cried hard. Partially in an effort to exorcise some of the bad feelings you were harboring, but it hadn't helped much.

"Well! Under all those blankets, I wouldn't even know, now would I!"

You squeak as you startle so much from hearing his staticky voice right behind your head that you end up in a heap on the floor between the wall and your bed.

By the time you untangle yourself from the duvet and pop your head out of the heap, he's maneuvered himself to the edge of the mattress and is peering over it while lying on his barely existent stomach. A thin, but amused smile curls his lips as his legs idly kick behind him like he's a high school girl at a sleepover.

"Was that necessary?" you ask, any amount of riling up he'd done with his sudden entrance falling away from you as your slump saps it of its vigor in one go.

Alastor's brows rise into his fringe, clearly a little caught off-guard. You can understand why—you usually either laugh or, if he gets you badly enough, clutch your chest and scold him for nearly causing your second death via a heart attack.

He tilts his head at you as his eyes narrow and you can't tell if he's confused or zeroing in on his prey. Honestly, in your current condition, you can't get yourself to care. Maybe he'll put you out of your misery for your cheek.

"Mm, I deemed it so," Alastor says, his luminous red eyes blinking down at you as he leans forward ever-so slightly. He's clearly on edge and you digest this as a display of annoyance, but he's concerned (and doesn't like that he's concerned). He's never seen you like this. "Are you ill, cher? It's quite unlike you to miss dinner."

"In a matter of speaking," you allow as you stand up, brush yourself off, and gather up your duvet into a large wad in your arms. You maneuver it back onto the bed and into a sort of nest you can return to, careful not to jostle or accidentally touch Alastor as he remains partially prone across the foot of the bed and watches you work. Mindful of how little he likely knows about mental health, given his time period, you explain in a few words, "My brain is sick."

He blinks, not sure what to make of what you've said. "Your…brain?" he repeats uncertainly. "How so?" Alastor also deems himself "sick in the head," but he's fairly certain that his brand of insanity isn't what you're referring to in yourself.

You nestle into the duvet, missing how his eyes soften a touch at how small you look right now. You take a deep breath and let it huff out as you force yourself to look at him. If he just wants to torment you a bit, this will expedite him getting it out of his system so you can go back to your staring contest with the wall. If he's not just here to make fun of you…well, then that would be surprising.

"I have depression," you finally admit and you wonder when the last time was that you said those words out loud. Even in life, it was a rare moment when you'd be met with someone who was worth explaining yourself to—most people either didn't understand because they'd never been through it themselves or because they didn't want to understand. Over time, you'd just given up trying to be honest about your struggles because being demeaned or invalidated for them just made you feel worse.

"A what now?" Alastor asks, cocking one brow as he turns to lie on his side with his head propped against one hand. His fluffy ears twitch a little but stay upright, alert, and turned in your direction.

"It's a mood, uh…ailment," you explain, thinking he might not know what a "disorder" is either. You're not familiar enough with what terms people would've used to refer to mental health in his time, so you're overcareful with the words you choose. "My brain chemistry wasn't right in life—my body didn't produce enough of the chemicals that make us feel happy, so I'd get into really bad slumps. Exhausted, sad, sometimes just numb slumps. Apparently that came down here with me, too."

"So…you're in a 'slump'?" he repeats slowly, testing the word you'd used on his tongue.

In moments like this, you find him unbearably cute—from his twitchy ears made restless by the rate of his thoughts to his wide, considering eyes as he tries to absorb what you're telling him. He's a very good listener when he's not in the middle of a bit.

"Yes," you tell him and he relaxes slightly at the confirmation. "I feel dead inside, honestly. Which is funny to say now that I'm actually dead, but it's just… I just don't feel much of anything. Or I do and it just feels empty and hollow. That's kind of worse than feeling sad."

He hums and offers, "A smile is our greatest weapon, dear. We've discussed this."

"Not against this, it's not," you sigh, just waiting now for him to get frustrated or bored with you. "I'm not trying to be difficult, Al, I swear. It's just… I can't fake what I'm feeling. I've tried! I wish I could mask half as well as you can, but it's hard. It takes energy I just don't have in times like this."

Alastor evaluates you with a glance and asks, "Then what is your weapon of choice against these…slumps?"

You tug against the seam of the duvet wrapped around you, all nervous fidgeting. "I never really figured anything out," you admit and it feels like a failure. It feels like because you can't offer him a solution to your problem, your problem must not be a problem. You remember so many exasperated faces looking back at you at times you'd admit the very same. He just looks at you though, clearly thinking. "Sometimes just waiting for it to pass was the answer. I was on medication for it at one point, but it never helped very much. I know I need to eat, but I just feel a bit nauseous when I think about food."

"Then food should be on the docket, certainly, but perhaps not just yet," he muses, sitting up as he continues to regard you. "What else?"

You throw your hands up helplessly. "I'm not sure. I'm sorry," you say. "Maybe I need to go hug Charlie again or something, that didn't fix anything earlier, but it didn't hurt."

Alastor scoffs. "Is my comfort not up to your standards, dear?" he needles you, his tone confident even as his smile wavers slightly.

You blink and shake your head even as you scramble to try and understand what he's implying. "Of course not," you quickly say. "I just… You don't have to do that kind of stuff, you know? I know it's uncomfortable for you and I'd never want to make you uncomfortable."

He chuckles and a mischievous smirk overtakes his features as he leans in and pulls you toward him via the duvet, taking an indulgent look at the blush reddening your face before he tightens the blanket cocoon around you and adds his arms to the equation after. You get the hint not to take your arms out and touch him and you're not even sure you could if you wanted to. You're frozen in place, comically close to a deer in headlights, and you can feel the heat inflaming your cheeks.

It's nice to feel something for the moment.

"Um… Alastor?" you ask, stopped from looking up at him when his pointed chin settles against the crown of your head. "You… Why?"

"Why, what?" he asks, but it's just to put off answering and you have some inkling that this might be the case despite his casual tone.

"Why are you doing this?" you ask, embarrassed by how vulnerable you sound to yourself.

"I can't have you sat here in one of your 'slumps' by yourself, darling," he mused, one of his hands absently tracing over your back.

It takes a lot for you to not lean into the touch, but you're terrified of scaring him off. You're also terrified of overthinking this though, especially as he settles in around you, his larger body usually used to intimidate and tower over others making you feel oddly safe. Then again, even in his most antagonistic moments with you, have you ever felt in danger?

"Why not?" you ask softly.

"You ask a surprising number of questions over something so simple as this," Alastor notes and his words cause a puff of warm breath to stir your hair. You shiver a little and he chuckles.

"But it's not simple for you," you murmur, letting yourself relax a bit as he impatiently tugs you closer to fit you against his chest. He's certainly not as gentle as Charlie, but you imagine he's far less practiced in this sort of thing than she is. It hits you harder because you know he's trying. And perhaps because you—silly, silly you—have a tragic little crush on the Radio Demon. "And… Well, I appreciate it. That's all."

Alastor hums and admits, "It's simpler than expected. And not unwelcome." You feel his chin shift against your crown, like he might be looking down at you, as he asks, "Is it helpful? Or is dear Charlotte's attention still preferable?"

You have to bite your lips a little to keep from smirking—that sort of tone can only indicate that he's jealous. Once again, you find him unbearably cute and it'll likely one day lead to your second untimely demise once he realizes how you feel.

"Yes, it's helpful. And preferable," you confess and you can almost feel his chest puff with pride. "This is really nice. Thank you."

"You're most welcome, dear," he says, glancing down and watching you cave to fatigue and fall asleep as he feels your weight settle further into his chest.

Alastor chuckles and gives you time to fully settle into a more restful state before he shifts your body around and situates you on your bed. He'd first considered staying, but figures having something for you to eat at the ready when you wake is a better use of his time. At least that's the reason he gives himself to go.

The truth is he can't remember the last time he honest to goodness comforted someone. There's a tickle in the back of his brain, a voice asking if he's losing his edge. Asking if you'll see him now as less than he is, which (in his mind) is a sadistic, cannibalistic overlord and nothing more.

He can't deny though that he's savoring the lingering warmth from your body on his coat. And, as much as he doesn't understand these "slumps" or the depression you referenced, he didn't like seeing you look so sad.

And he supposes if he must occasionally soften his sharp edges a bit to help keep his favorite guest present and smiling, it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

#alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #asexual alastor #soft alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #cw depression #cw mental health

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vigilskeep · 3 days ago

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I was in Rivain and got some ambient dialogue with Spite and a Qunari LoF. She called him a spirit of determination, wished him luck in all his endeavors, and Spite was like "YYYyYYYyYESS!" (he reminds me of Tim Curry)

Have you heard this dialogue? I took it at face value that if the spirit was being called Spite that meant he was a spirit of spite lol but determination can certainly come in a spiteful flavor after all. Anyways, what do you think?

oh yeah i haven’t heard this one, but i have heard isabela call spite a spirit of determination when she announces him (and lucanis as second billing lmao) if you bring them to the hall of valour fights (please bring all the companions to a hall of valour fight, her intros are so funny)

lucanis says back in the ossuary that what zara was summoning were spirits, who had no choice but to turn into demons under her “care”. spite probably was a spirit of determination, in the same way we’ve seen wisdom spirits turn to pride demons when mistreated. i guess it’s a classic thedas theological question how much you still consider him to be a spirit of determination after his transformation, and what we’re hearing from the lords of fortune is the rivaini stance on that

determination makes sense. if there’s any virtue lucanis can be safely said to embody in his life as a crow, it’s determination: the professionalism that demands he fulfil his contracts, and a lifetime of hard work and training towards being able to complete that purpose efficiently. i think we can assume zara was trying to “match” spirits with a host likely to share their qualities and the accompanying darker sides of those qualities, to best amplify them in what she was creating. and you can tell lucanis and spite are most unified when they have a clearly defined target ahead of them that they’re, well, determined to achieve

#veilguard spoilers #spite

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hannieehaee · 9 hours ago

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What do you think about svt members dating a autistic/neuro divergent s/o ?? (Don't havets do all members but maybe woozi hannie and cheol? Tysm I literally love your writing ❤️🎀🍓)

dating a neurodivergent s/o

content: non-specific neurodivergence, established relationship, fluff, etc.

wc: 758

a/n: thank u so much<33 i discussed this with two of my besties on the spectrum, so i hope i did this justice!! neurodivergence is very broad so i kept this a little ambiguous btw<3

masterlist

seungcheol -

he's kind of used to being babied by his family, but he'll flip the script and baby you instead. super nice and understanding, engaging in any of your interests and always encouraging you. he'd literally move hell and earth to ensure your comfort at all times.

jeonghan -

very sweet and loving. he has this personality where he babies everyone around him, and i think he'd use his kindergarten teacher voice a little extra on his s/o. gets familiar with any habits you may have and engages in them wholeheartedly. steals any fidget toys you may have bc he must touch at any and every object in his vicinity.

joshua -

he'll learn everything there is to learn in order to support and love you in the way you most deserve! he's very emotionally intelligent and empathetic, so he'll often just kinda sit there and listen to you rant about whichever special interest you had at the time, even taking some of his free time to learn about it on his own.

jun -

cutie is the sweetest boyfriend alive, falling into any habits or behaviors of yours without even realizing. he's super touchy but if you're not into that he'd just settle for playing with your hands and fingers in a reassuring manner (both for himself and you). does his best to understand and relate to you in order to ensure your comfort.

soonyoung -

i picture him acting very similar to jun as a bf. he may instinctually mimic some of your behaviors or habits without realizing. if you have trouble focusing or maybe any compulsive behaviors, he'd somehow match those behaviors just from how much time he spent with you.

wonwoo -

he's literally the perfect boyfriend in every capacity so i think he'd assimilate to you and your needs without even thinking about it. makes himself fit into your life perfectly and provides you all comfort possible. does his best to understand every aspect of your life and has very open communication with you.

jihoon -

he has a ton of little fidget toys in his studio ready for you to play with. if you have any sensory issues, he'd also have some amazing quality noise cancelling headphones in his studio for you to use, anddd he would also make sure to turn off the lights at the universe factory if they ever bothered you. you'd never have any issue with him changing his lifestyle to fit your needs, he'd just do it w/o question.

seokmin -

he's such a sweet and empathetic guy, he'd be thoroughly educated on whichever part of the spectrum you were in. he'd remind you to take any medications (if needed), cook you your safe foods, keep you out of social situations if you felt like going nonverbal, keep things tidy at home to keep you at ease. he'd basically do anything in his power without you even having to ask.

mingyu -

he's a househusband at heart so he's basically just prepared to mother the hell out of you at all times. takes care of all your needs and keeps track of them at his own accord. needs an open line of communication with you to understand your needs and preferences and adapts his life to fit them.

minghao -

he's so insanely emotionally mature i think he'd utilize his amazing communication skills to make sure he's doing everything he can as a bf to make you feel comfortable and at ease with him. entertains and encourages any of your habits and needs. researches anything necessary to understand you as best as he can.

seungkwan -

if u ever go nonverbal or lose your social battery, he'll take complete charge of it, so dont u even worry!!! he loved and respects you more than anyone, so he does his best to adapt to any habits or necessities you may have. the best person at lending a sympathetic ear when you let him know of your needs.

vernon -

very understanding and subtle with his affections. he's the opposite of overwhelming, so he never pressures you and tries to make you as comfortable as possible, doing his best to understand your habits and levels of comfort in order to assimilate to you and ensure your happiness in the relationship.

chan -

he'll match your energy always. if your social battery is gone, so is his! if you feel a little extra energetic, guess what, so does he! wants you to communicate what he can do to ensure your comfort or to be the best bf he can be.

#seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen oneshot #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #svt reactions #seventeen reactions

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rradio-static · 3 days ago

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hey could i ask of how al would be in a argument? it’s okay if now!!

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ‘my love, can you hear me screaming?’ alastorxreader

in which, you, his darling girl, get upset when he leaves so abruptly for the belle miss rosie. causing an argument between the two of you.

❗️ warnings: swearing, sexual content implied near the end, alcohol mentioned, i don’t think that really needs a warning though.

word count: uh, i forgot…

it was a nice afternoon, well, as nice as it could be in hell. charlie was overthinking about some thing or another and vaggie was trying to calm the frantic princess down, which in short, was not helping.

you were excited to say the least, alastor had planned a nice dinner for the two of you, one on one. what a gentleman.

yes, it was hard to get quality time with him around the hotel, with all the ruckus going off in the background. so, he’d scheduled this just for the two of you, at a quote on quote ‘fancy’ restaurant on the other side of the pentagram.

angeldust was helping you get ready, rummaging through your clothes with little ‘tsks’ and “eughs” at most of them.

“seriously, babes, you have nothing date worthy. you wanna borrow somethin’ of mine?” he asked, throwing dresses over his head.

“no, because al would probably be sick all over me.” you laughed, taking a roller out of your hair.

“fine, but don’t blame me when you end up looking like a prude.” he shrugged.

“oh and i’d rather look like a baby prostitute?”you giggled, he knew i didn’t mean it, but it still earned me a skirt flying at my head.

he pulled out one of your old dresses, you didn’t think it would even fit me now. it was red satin, cut off just above the knees. “this could be cute.” he mumbled to himself, and then threw it at you.

you caught it and rolled your eyes. “fine.” you sighed, pulling it on. surprisingly, it did fit, even as you twirled around in the mirror.

“how do i look?” you asked, fluffing out your hair. “like a model, toots.” angel smiled.

he glanced around for a moment, picking up a loose blush brush, and swiping your cheeks. “there, now you look like a super model.”

“thank you, angie.” you smiled, slipping on your heels. “gotta go or al’s gonna be pissed.”

you got to the restaurant, that was weird. alastor wasn’t here? he was always early. you waited for a while, ordering a simple glass of white wine and drinking it slowly while you waited.

but still, after an hour, no sign of the radio demon. you sighed and grabbed your bag, throwing it over your shoulder and walked out.

after a long ride back to the hotel, your head was throbbing and you were pissed. what the fuck was he doing that was so important he had to miss your date?

“y/n! you okay? i heard you and alastor went out for dinner. where is he?” charlie smiled, looking behind you to try and answer her own question.

you shrugged and sighed, “don’t ask me.” before slumping up the stairs and pulling off your heels, your throbbing feet thanking you dearly.

you were mad, to say the least, another hour or two went by, and alastor still hadn’t come back to the hotel.

so, you decided to just go to sleep.

you were awoken about half an hour later by the door clicking open and being slowly closed. you sat bolt upright, narrowing your eyes. “where the fuck have you been?”

he looked nervous, very very nervous, that stupid grin enhanced and his eyebrows furrowed. “ah, darling!”

he walked up to you, but you stepped back. “don’t darling me, you left me waiting for hours. i thought we had plans?”

he sighed. “yes, yes we did. i am sorry, my dear. but rosie needed me—“

of fucking course. it was rosie. you loved the woman, no doubt about it, but it was tiring when it felt like her needs came before yours.

“rosie? rosie needed you did she? what did she need you for, al?”

he raised a brow. “darling, i don’t think that’s any of your buisness. don’t worry your sweet little head about it.”

“well, i am worrying, im worrying because my husband, left me for another woman and won’t even explain himself!” you sighed, exasperated.

“who do you think you’re talking to? i had places i needed to be, my love. it’s not my fault you get all insecure because i have a life. i’m an important person.” he said, calmly.

wow. the fucking nerve.

“and i’m not important to you?” you quipped, crossing your arms.

he quickly grabbed your jaw, gently as so not to hurt you. “of course you’re important, chick. i just had things that needed to be done. don’t second guess how i feel.” he murmured, static straining his voice.

“now get in bed. i’m sorry that i left you, but i don’t like the fact you think you can talk to me,” he twisted your face gently, pulling you closer, “like i’m not your husband.”

and you did as you were told.

“good girl. i’ll make it up to you, dear, just be patient.” he muttered, sliding his hand up your thigh, lips on your neck.

#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor headcanons #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin headcanons #rradio-static #im bored #this is lazy #i’m being so lazy #i think we should all just stay in bed #shitpost #dont read this

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houserautha · 3 days ago

Text

That’s Enough

Summary: Feyd gets cocky and divulges too much to a foreign ambassador. You decide to punish him for it.

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x f!Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, sub Feyd, you slap him, slight humiliation, handcuffs, ball gag, testicle stepping, flogging, p in v, there’s blood

A/N: I don’t think this is my best writing but I just really needed to get this idea out of my brain. Stay for the smut, not for the quality

“What’s this?”

Feyd closes the door lightly behind him. His steps are measured as he crosses the room, pausing quizzically at the edge of the mat you’ve laid out.

“Get down,” you order him. When he wavers, you bite out, “I said kneel.”

Feyd-Rautha — the na-Baron, the gem of Giedi Prime — sinks to his knees before you. The sight shouldn’t be as satisfactory as it is. He looks up at you, eyes dark.

“Take off your shirt.”

He obliges without any hesitation. You clench your thighs together, furious at yourself for admiring him when you’re supposed to be in control. But how could you not?

Broad shoulders lead to a tapered waist, his pants slung low on his hips. You trace the taut muscles of his stomach to his chest, up to the infuriatingly handsome face staring back at you.

To his credit, Feyd does not question you as you circle him on the mat and crouch behind him. The only indication that anything is wrong is the subtle tightness in his back when you secure the handcuffs tightly on his wrists.

“I will never object if you’re feeling curious, jewel,” he rasps, “but I’d like to know what this is about.”

You leisurely round to the front of the mat. He’s watching you carefully, a slight flicker of untamed temper blurring his composure. You forget sometimes, with his pretty words and expensive clothing, that he’s a feral animal. Trained for diplomacy but never truly domesticated.

“You really don’t know when to shut up, do you?” You ask him, leaning in close.

There’s probably a thousand ways he could harm you right now, even without hands, but he elects not to employ any of them. “Tragically, no.”

“That’s enough!”

You strike him across the face with the back of your hand. A large red splotch blossoms on his cheek and when he finally lifts his gaze to you, there’s a dangerous glimmer there.

“If you can’t refrain from talking, then I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”

You grab the gag from the bed, sliding it between your fingers to give him a good look. It’s some Harkonnen contraption — like everything else you prepared for this evening.

“Bite,” you order him. You place the metal ball in his mouth, ignoring the way his plush lips wrapped around it made you slick with arousal. You fasten it at the back of his head, then step back to admire your work.

There’s something like anger, or shame, written on Feyd’s features, but his cock strains against his pants despite it. He shifts uncomfortably when you press your boot against his erection.

Feyd’s cock twitches in response, so you dig your heel in harder. His entire body flinches, but there’s no denying his desire as he regards you, the gag a violent black stripe across his pale skin.

“Last night at dinner, you told Ambassador Thoridan things that you shouldn’t have,” you begin, “and when I tried to hint to you to stop, you dismissed me. I don’t tolerate being disrespected and, because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut, I’m going to punish you for it.”

You apply pressure to his cock before you remove your foot, moving to reclaim your last surprise.

The flog is unlike any other you’ve seen, the long handle wrapped in leather. But it’s the chains of spiked metal attached to the end that invoked a mixture of intrigue and horror. It’s been explained to you that Harkonnens experienced pain differently, but you didn’t truly believe it until you realized that they used these for enjoyment.

The chains are cool as you slip them between your fingers, the sound crisp and metallic. You graze the chains over his chest, his shoulder, circling him, before giving him an experimental swat on his back.

“Maybe next time you’ll think twice before telling strangers about how we fuck,” you say. This time when you bring the flog down on his back, it leaves angry red welts in its wake. Feyd cries out, muffled by the gag, and you take an enormous amount of pleasure striking him again.

You mock him, “Look at you. Not in control now, are you?”

Blood spots his reddened skin. You brush your fingers over the marks, strangely fascinated. So the legendary Feyd-Rautha could bleed. And you could make him. You flog him again, ripping open new wounds, each one blooming like petals. When you return to the front, you use your free hand to undo the front of his pants, liberating his cock. It springs upwards, swollen and needy.

Your cunt clenches. Selfishly, greedily, you strip off your own pants. Feyd’s all but trembling with anticipation when you ease him down so that he’s resting with his heels beneath him, then straddle him the best that you can. Without your panties, the head of his cock brushes right against your entrance.

He moans, eyes nearly rolling back.

The flog comes down on him again and he arches into you, cock sliding past your slick folds. Not one to give in easily, you shift your hips to keep him from penetrating you, much to his irritation.

“Not yet,” you coo at him.

You rock against him. Feyd’s quiet anger burns you, but it’s the most delicious flames that you’ve ever felt. You transition into small pulses, hovering over his cock and then dipping down against it, offering only the slightest of touches. When Feyd has been reduced to a desperate, wanton mess you sink down onto him, but only a little. His shoulders spasm with need, wanting to reach out to you but unable.

You can only imagine what he’s going to do to you when he’s free, and that excites you even more.

Invigorated, you seat yourself even further down on his cock, then pause there, clenching your walls around him. You’ve never seen Feyd so completely helpless, squirming and fighting his bindings — feeling merciful, you pierce him. Even with your painfully slow start, easing him into you, you’re not prepared for how entirely he stretches you out.

Nails digging into his back and finding the edges of his wounds, you ride him, setting a pace that nearly brings tears to your eyes. You keep yourself upright by holding onto him and beneath your hands, you feel him trembling with the effort of not touching you. It’s not long before you come and, spiraling from the blinding high, you swipe some of your juices and stuff your finger around the gag.

Saliva gathers at the corners of his mouth. Feyd’s lids flutter at the taste, and you pop the finger into your own mouth after just to watch him squirm.

“I’m going to go apologize for your behavior,” you tell him as you rise to your feet. His cock glints in the low lighting, painfully erect, shoulders heaving when he realizes your intentions. “When I come back, I’ll see if I have it in my heart to release you. If I think that you’ve moved at all, your punishment starts all over again.”

And then, you leave the na-Baron trembling, bloody, and thoroughly unsatisfied.

#feyd rautha #dune #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd x reader #feyd x you #fanfic writing #feyd smut #writers on tumblr #fanfic #writing #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha oneshot

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dakota1435 · 1 day ago

Text

Moonlight -- Vampire!Sylus X Reader ✩₊˚.☪︎ ⁺₊✧

word count: 3.3k

tags: 18+ NSFW!!, mention of blood, biting, penetration, mention of alcohol

previous chapters on Ao3 / This blog !

Chapter 6

After your…newfound experience, Sylus left the house to attend to more business matters. Always so busy, yet didn’t seem bothered by it. But, like the past couple of weeks has been, you’ve been left alone with your thoughts. Now, something different was blossoming in you. Your mind was constantly preoccupied with the memory of Sylus’ sweet, poisonous words. His bite wasn’t anything like the first time. It burned like fire, the heat searing across your body. It gave you goosebumps, recalling the feeling. But the pleasure and pain were both equal with each other. You found yourself wanting to feel it again, craving it like a strong wine.

Most importantly, you found yourself confused. The old you would have rather died than to submit at the hands of someone violent and arrogant. He had everything at his fingers, and you easily fell into all of it. Just like he knew you would. Your life changed completely overnight, yet it only took a matter of time to accept this new one. How long would he keep you around? Would he tire from you, bored of your mortal existence? If so, would he set you back out into the world? You felt dizzy just thinking about it. These negative thoughts weren’t good for you, but it was hard to think about anything else. It made the feeding so much easier, and felt heavenly at that, but your dumb mortal emotions reacted strongly. You didn’t know what to take from it. You were food for Sylus, your only purpose to serve him what he craves. Maybe he didn’t care about you like he acted. Maybe he didn’t want you, other than for one reason you were purchased for.

Truthfully, it made you depressed. A hollow feeling started to form in your chest. For the rest of the night, you didn’t leave his room. You dismissed off the twins who brought you dinner, having trouble finding the motivation or energy to exist. Maybe it was some deeper, inner insecurity you never realized you had. Time moves slow, too slow when all you did was lay there. Your thoughts were swimming, questions firing left and right in your brain. It felt like hours have passed, your body aching from your stillness. You expected Sylus to be there any second but he wasn’t there.

“Miss? You feeling okay?" said one of the twins on the other side of the door. You couldn’t tell which one spoke, their voices muffled by the physical barrier. You just stare, unsure what to say. They must know something was off.

“I’m fine,” you responded plainly. The twins were too keen on their senses to not know something was up.

“Boss said you must eat or drink something. What can we bring you?” You internally groan with their persistence. They told Sylus you refused dinner. You truly weren’t hungry though, so you said the first consumable item to pop in your head.

“Okay, can I have some wine?” You asked. There’s a pause behind the door and part of you wonders if you’ll be refused for the first time.

“Of course. We’ll send some up.” They don’t give you time to respond as you hear their footsteps walk away from the door. Wine sounded pretty good anyways, and maybe it’ll help ease the weight on your mind. Within mere minutes, a bottle of unopened wine appears in an ice bucket outside your door. It almost felt like room service, much to your amusement.

You’ll just take some personal time for yourself, relaxing. Self care. Although, unfortunately, you know you have all the time in the world for that. Considering Sylus’ never ending work, you had too much alone time. You shake off the anxious thoughts creeping back into your head before opening the wine bottle. It was a high quality red wine and you knew this was a good decision.

The taste warmed your throat the same way Sylus’ lips did against yours. You were thinking about him too much, and tonight you didn’t want that. You drink more, a little sloppy, but in your desolate state you could care less. You scoffed out loud, wondering when Sylus’ touch began to stick to you. Maybe you’ll take another bath, hoping to feel like a new blank state. The lack of substance in your stomach made you tipsy quick, but that was kinda the plan anyways. You ease off of the massive bed and head towards the open bathroom. The king-sized clawfoot bathtub was still in its original place as you last used it, just hours ago. With one hand preoccupied with a wine glass, the other fumbles with a knob, causing hot, steamy water to pour out. You lean against the marble counter, continuing to drink. You still thought of Sylus, and part of it scared you you were becoming too attached to him. Naturally, you didn’t have anything but him. He wanted that though, so what if you were attached?

Seeing the water was filled just enough, you decided to slip off your clothes and go inside the tub. As you pull your shirt over, your elbow ends up knocking against the wine glass. It fell over, shattering in the bathroom sink. The abrupt sound made you spin around in surprise, only to find the remnants of glass. Well, at least it’s all in one spot, you thought. You sigh, carefully taking the bigger shards out first. Before you stick your hand in again, something cold and hard stops your movement. You knew it was Sylus’ hand without looking at him.

“Always about to prick your finger when I’m around. Careful, sweetie, we wouldn’t want that.” You look at him in the mirror before you. You’d think he wouldn’t be visible, like the stories, but your mind was burning the image of his body powering over you. The way his eyes took in every detail of you and the way his hand easily wrapped around your delicate hand. This new pet name, sweetie, felt almost belittling. But there was something ravishing in his tone when he said it.

“Sorry…” You looked away from the reflection. You move out of his grasp with ease.

“You…are drinking?” Sylus cocks an eyebrow. He didn’t sound mad, but there was a genuine curiosity in his question. “Luke said you refused dinner. Are you feeling alright?” He said, sounding more flat.

You realized your chest and arms were casually exposed to him right now. You look at the steaming water, then back to Sylus. “I just wanted to relax today.” You hold your arm, feeling sheepish. He stares at you for a moment, deciding if you were truthful or not.

He closes the gap between you two. “Feeling modest aren’t you? A little late for that now, don’t you think kitten?” His body presses up against yours as he grabs the arm that was across your torso. He brings up your hand and places his lips on your knuckles. You flush instantly, his touch reminding you of the great pleasure he’s capable of. “Don’t hide yourself from me. I own you, I own everything about you.” His lips now graze against your wrist, his fangs hovering. You tense, preparing for anything. This doesn’t go unnoticed. He drops your hand back down.

“Tell me what is wrong,” he demanded suddenly. His patience was thin tonight and you understood that you couldn’t hide your feelings, no matter how hard you tried.

“What will happen to me when you’re done with me?” The words proved difficult to speak, but once you said it you felt a little lighter. Sylus’ expression doesn’t change but you have to know the answer. You couldn’t spend the rest of your lonely time here just waiting in anxious anticipation.

“Done with you?” He repeats, sounding confused. “Whatever do you mean?” You could tell he knew exactly what you meant, and it was amusing for him to see you try and open up. It was frustrating, but there was no other way you would be able to get this done.

“You know! Done with me. Bored with me, a human. You know exactly what I mean,” you said, your tongue feeling sharp. Sylus stares at you, his expression blank and unreadable. It’s like those crimson eyes of his could see right through you. He positions himself in front of you, causing you to lean against the marble counter. There was barely any room left to breathe.

“Bored of you?” He spoke softer now as the distance between you was nonexistent. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear gently before tracing his touch down your jaw. His hand holds your jaw in place, causing you to be unable to look away from him. “Don’t be so foolish. I told you before, you’re mine forever. It is going to be very entertaining.” He leans his head down, his breath barely caressing your ear. “You gave yourself to me. You’re in this for the long run, sweetie. I know you, now. I feel the way you tense up, the way your heartbeat quickens. How warm you get when I touch you like this.” He slides his hand away from your jaw, tracing down past your chest and just barely above your torso. His featherlight touch felt like pure electricity as it made its way down to your lower body. He grazes his long fingers against your inner thigh, causing you to hitch your breathing.

Oh, how he was right. How he was right about everything. Even now, as he easily proved you wrong, you were turned on from his voice and his touch. Intoxicating as always. He presses a quick kiss against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. With one fluid motion, he places both hands around your legs and hoists you up upon the bathroom counter. It was cool to the touch as your legs tried to adjust comfortably on the marble. Sylus now stood, his physical presence hovering over you as you sat. Opened, and exposed, for him. He radiated desire and you could tell it took effort to control himself. He was ready to devour you whole.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked in a low, husky tone. You wondered if he truly would, if you said no. Clearly, at this moment, that’s not what you wanted. It made you blush when he asked permission. He could take you any time, any moment. You were at the mercy of his hands after all. You shake your head.

“No…” You murmured. Your body felt like fire as you sat against the cool marble. Sylus was pleased with your answer, continuing to roam his hands over you. He somehow managed to slip your bottoms off with ease, causing you to be mostly bare in front of him. He traces his fingers over the underwear you still wore, teasing. Testing you. You knew he could hear your heart hammer against your chest. He could feel the heat pooling in your most sensitive spot.

“You are the most intoxicating, my dear.” He plants another kiss on your neck, onto your jaw, before placing his lips on yours. You melt into his kiss without hesitation. His praise, whether for you or for your blood, turned you on more. You wanted more– you wanted him. His heavy fingers touch softly over your underwear, making you twitch with anticipation. Without warning, he tears off your last remaining fabric as if it was nothing.

“Wh–!”

“They were in the way,” he growled. He touches you directly now, a soft gasp leaving your lips as he continues. You hear him snicker as he feels you are already wet with desire. “Such a good, obedient pet,” he whispered, teasing your entrance. He eases a finger into you as his thumb rubs your clit. You lean forward, grabbing Sylus as if he was the only thing anchoring you in this world. You feel him place a hand behind your back, holding you against him. He kisses the top of your head as he begins to move his hand, slowly adding another finger. This all happened last night, but it felt like it was the first time all over again. You moan and whimper into his shoulder, feeling yourself unravel just from his hand.

“Mmf— Oh…God.” You can’t stop the moans that slip past your lips. You wondered if he would bite again so soon.

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded. His hand never stopped. He looks down at your body against him, clutching onto his sleeves.

“More,” you blurted. Little did you know what you were truly asking for. It might be too much, too overstimulating, but you were on a high of pleasure. You couldn’t stop here, now. Sylus smirks, his brows lifting at your confidence. He pulls his two fingers away from you, causing a whine of disapproval. He takes a step back, taking a good look at you. A wet mess, sitting on top of his counter. Unexpectedly, he picks you up from where you sat. With one arm, you are perched up against his body as if you were weightless. He strolls out of the bathroom and plops you down on his massive bed. Laying down, sprawled out for him, you realize this was going to be more than last night. A lot more. You swallow, trying to relax as you watch him unbutton his shirt. He doesn’t break eye contact, his red eyes burning into you, as he removes more clothes.

Seeing his erection was all you needed to know. You can’t help but widen your eyes at the sheer size of it. There was no way all of that was going to fit. He notices your reaction and smirks with satisfaction.

“Worried?” He teased. If just his two fingers made you feel full, you couldn’t imagine anything more than that.

“I—I’m not,” you stammered. You could feel yourself throb with pleasure and anticipation for what was about to come. You’ve only had a couple of boyfriends before this mess, and you nothing would compare in size against Sylus. He leans closer, fully hovering over you. He kisses you more, this time it’s hungry. He grabs you tighter as his tongue pries into your mouth. You return with the same energy, not wanting to falter back by any means necessary. Something dripped on your stomach, only for you to realize it was his precum. He wanted you badly and you wondered how he managed to have the patience left in him.

“Relax,” he purred into your ear. You could feel your stomach tightened. This was going to be the point of no return. A very small part of you felt anxious. After all day stewing in your thoughts about Sylus, and your future, you laid here submissive for him. His touch and his praise was all you needed to melt away any thoughts. You felt like a blank canvas, waiting for him to paint you out. You suddenly feel something prodding at your entrance. You inhale, knowing it was the tip of his cock. By God, that alone, felt enough. “You can take it,” he reassured. Although, you truly didn’t know if you could. He teases you a bit more before cautiously pushing in. You grasp onto him tightly again, unable to hold anything else. He kisses the side of your face, you assumed this was for comfort. His brows were furrowed as his breathing became quicker. He was really trying to hold back.

“ ‘s not gonna fit,” you whined. You couldn’t tell precisely, but he was halfway in. You were already so full. Your clit throbbed with need, swollen with pleasure. He looked at you and your eyes, glazed over with lust.

“Yes, it will,” he grunts, pushing in a bit further. Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, before Sylus kisses them. You take a deep breath, trying to relax yourself again. He applies pressure on your clit again, the touch along with the pressure inside you makes you roll with pleasure. “You’re doing so well,” he praised. He exhales as he carefully slides out of you right before pushing back in. You felt everything, each minor movement causing you to moan lightly. It’ll be a miracle if you can walk after this.

When Sylus realizes you can take all of him, he begins to move his hips more. You couldn’t stop staring at him, the image of his naked body over you burned into your mind. It’s like he was sculpted by the Gods, every part of him. He was…beautiful. It made you feel satisfied and delighted seeing him vulnerable like this. Your mind was drunk on pleasure, but in that moment you didn’t care if you were used for blood. He wanted you. Craved not just your blood, but your body too.

His pace begins to pick up, each thrust sending you over the edge. You can’t help but moan for him, moan his name. You could tell he enjoyed every sound that came from you. He groaned back, never releasing the hold he had on you. You could feel your orgasm building with each movement, a sweet release you anticipated this whole time.

“Ah! Mm…Sylus, please,” you begged, unsure what you were begging for exactly.You could feel yourself getting close, all this overstimulation making you feel drunk. He grabs your jaw, his pace never slowing down.

“Speak,” he ordered. His breathing was uneven as his brows were still knitted together. His thrusts become heavier now, each one making you forget all the words in your mind. Your eyes roll back, taking every single bit of pleasure you could get.

“Please,” you lowered your hand, lightly touching yourself. You were getting desperate now. “Mm…Ah, ‘m so close.” You were breathless. So full of him. You didn’t know what exactly you needed to come, but you were determined to find it. You didn’t care if he fed again, or whatever he wanted to do. None of it mattered anymore. His touch changed you completely. As your core tightened around him, you were bound to unravel against him any second. Sylus felt the shift in you. He grunted, grinding himself in you.

“So tight…” He hummed. “Come for me, darling.” He didn’t have to ask twice. He was practically slamming into you, all of him. You couldn’t speak anymore, all words lost to your vocal moans. If he kept this up, you were going to see stars. You grab him harder, your nails digging into him as an attempt to hold on. You were on the edge and it drove you insane. With the little strength you had left, you forcefully pulled Sylus down closer to you. It threw him off guard for a second, before realizing what you wanted. You fully exposed the side of your neck, beckoning him. You wanted him to bite you, because there was no greater pleasure than that. He doesn’t say a word before his teeth plunge into your soft skin. The bite was harsher this time, causing you to scream out. You reach your climax instantly, the release was like nothing you ever experienced before. Your mouth hangs open, unable to even make a sound as Sylus’ hips begin to slow against you. His mouth is still over your neck, his wet tongue lapping over the hot blood that oozes from the wound.

As the rush begins to leave your body, you feel extremely lightheaded. Black spots form in the corner of your vision. This isn’t good, you thought to yourself. You were too weak, too exhausted to say anything. Let alone push Sylus off of you. You attempt to make a noise, the black spots never fading. You feel Sylus lift himself up, the room spinning in your vision. You hear Sylus say something, but it’s muffled as you slowly lose consciousness. Without control, you feel your eyes roll back into your head.

Your body becomes numb, before you are dragged back into the darkness.

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