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bouquetface · 2 months

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Synastry Observations 6

Accuracy dependent on entire chart.

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Venus Square Saturn

This can make it difficult for a relationship to become romantic. Saturn can unintentionally restrict the Venus. The Venus is unable to express themselves freely.

This can manifest as a couple where one person requires the other to cut out people and things they enjoy. This can be due to jealousy.

This can manifest as being critical of one another.

Ex: Venus Virgo Square Gemini Saturn. In this relationship, both were constantly critiquing the other. It made it so neither was comfortable being themselves around the other. Always awaiting a negative critique.

However, there is potential this can manifest in a positive way. For example, say the Venus struggles with over indulgence, the Saturn can help the Venus grow & mature. If Venus is bad with money, the Saturn may be able to help the Venus become disciplined.

Accuracy influenced by entire chart.

Mars Conjunct Mars

The two are drawn to one another. Together, an excess of energy is created. This can result in positive ways or negative.

A positive result is both are attracted to one another. You always have energy and time for the other. You make each other become more spontaneous. Playful fights/teasing.

A negative result is you piss each other off. Lots of aggression. Neither of you are willing to back down. This can turn violent. You can become competitive with one another too. This can challenge you to become better but if negative, you will want to destroy the other person.

Whether positive or negative, the two of you share similarities. You can feel understood by the other person. If you don’t like parts of yourself, you can sub consciously wish to change or fight the other person.

Retrograde Mars Conjunct Venus

This will be different than a regular mars conjunct venus. The same initial passion and attraction will still be there. However, Mars is naturally more reflective. If Venus can’t appreciate this, there can be trouble.

For example: Venus Aries conjunct Aries Retrograde Mars. Venus Aries is a direct and fast energy. Normally so is aries mars but when in retrograde, the person can be more reflective. Needing time and space for this. If Venus in Aries can’t understand this, the mars may feel pushed. Mars could feel venus is selfish - refusing to slow down and listen + compromisse with mars.

Accuracy is influenced by the entire chart.

Mars conjunct Asc

You’ve probably already read about how this indicates extreme attraction. Almost an impulsive urge to act on it.

However, in my experience, this works better when the ASC person’s natal chart has mars or aries or scorpio 7th H. And/or aries venus or scorpio venus or mars conjunct venus in natal. Generally, this shows you are attracted to and do well in relationships with martian people.

For those who don’t have natal indicators like this, there can be a clashing of egos. If you are not attracted to assertive people, you may view the other as arrogant &/or bossy.

For example, my friend with a Libra Venus & pisces 7th house HATES the person she has this synastry with. It didn’t lead to a romantic connection at all. He was a classmate who often interrupted when she was talking in class.

Once during her presentation, he started asking a detailed questions and proceeded to add onto her answer - showing he already knew the answer but likely wanted to show how much better he knew the topic. This question threw her off her game and led her to forgetting the next part of her speech resulting in a poor (but still good) grade. The funny thing is he is used to be good friend in our group. He never got competitive with anybody else.

Jupiter Conjunct South Node

Jupiter is seeking and has an abundance of something that the SN doesn’t really care for. SN is likely already skilled at this thing that Jupiter seeks. In this way, SN may be able to help Jupiter. However, Jupiter is a mentor planet. Here it can become negative as Jupiter may dislike being taught or told as they believe they already know.

EXAMPLE: I’ve seen this synastry in a romantic relationship in the sign of sag. Jupiter is in its home sign. Comfortable and wanting to share knowledge. Jupiter could get preachy. Jupiter dislikes being told they’re wrong. Jupiter person had a “my way or now way” mindset. SN began to see Jupiter as a narcissist.

EX.2: Jupiter person has Jupiter in natal taurus 2nd. SN has SN in natal taurus 2nd House. This couple is fairly wealthy. They both have good income. When they got married, they combined their wealth. My grandma once made a comment how it’s good that my Uncle got a woman with a good career. He just shrugged and said “yeah I guess”. He said he would’ve married her even if she didn’t have that career. They were already wealthy on their own. It wasn’t a big deal to either of them.

Jupiter brings expansion. Jupiter conjunct SN can bring an expansion of something that SN does not need or want expanded. This can be neutral or negative aspect imo.

If you believe in past lives, this connection indicates the SN person granted Jupiter with luck and/or was very generous in some kind of way. In this lifetime, Jupiter person may feel the desire to repay SN.

However, the negative interpretation is the Jupiter person did something immoral to the SN. In this lifetime, the Jupiter person may need to repay to make amends. And/or the SN may want to drain the Jupiter person to balance out what Jupiter did. House & Signs may show what kind of repayment SN takes or is given.

Mercury trine Sun

These two can understand each other very well. There is less chance of misunderstanding between the two. They understand each other way’s of thinking and what they truly mean.

For example: Sun said something that sounded bad. They didn’t exactly get their point across. However, they don’t need to worry about a misunderstanding. Mercury understands Sun’s intention.

Mercury trine Pluto

Mercury can appreciate Pluto’s intensity. Pluto may not mind if Mercury says somethings that’s a bit controversial or odd. Pluto or Mercury can be open to changing their viewpoint or debating the situation out. They appreciate each other’s honesty and openness.

For example: Sag Pluto trine Libra Mercury. The two can like to debate things out. Playful arguments if positively supported through the entire chart.

Jupiter trine Neptune

This is a good supportive energy. If the rest of the synastry is positive, this is a good bonus one to have. Neptune can be like a muse to Jupiter. Neptune inspires creativity in Jupiter. Jupiter supports and can be a muse for Neptune as well.

However, if the rest of the synastry isn’t looking good this isn’t a saving grace kind of aspect.

Venus Conjunct Asc

If the man is the Venus, the ASC can be their ideal kind of woman. If the woman is the venus, attraction from both is still likely.

However, I had a friend whose Venus conjunct her teammate’s ASC. The crush was unreciprocated. She got turned down when asking him out.

So while there can be attraction from both, it is not always going to be sexual or romantic attraction. Sometimes, it can be better as a friendship or literally a teammate way. Trust is likely easily built between the two. You can admire and respect the way the other leads their life.

Jupiter square Moon

This can lead to the two being very indulgent when together. Enabling bad habits. While this may feel good at the start, it can lead to tension between the two. High possibility both experience more frequent or intense mood swings due to the other. Jupiter person can bring out the extremes in the Moon person’s moods without meaning to.

The way the individual planets express themselves in natal can create tension in the relationship.

For example: I had Jupiter Square Moon in a relationship. My natal Jupiter is in Leo 10th H. When I would post on IG, I would occasionally get comments from male friends. After he noticed this, he always wanted to go through my phone after I posted so he could see if anyone DM’d me. He had a Taurus Moon. Taurus moons can be prone to jealousy. I also found the negative side to taurus moons is they can dislike change so much that they refuse compromise.

BTW I do not believe the planets force people do things. There are so many ways placements can manifest in real life. Not every placement will express itself the same. So this is not hate to any taurus moons because this is still in my top 3 fav moon placements.

Accuracy is influenced by the entire chart. Would love to hear your experience and opinions on these placements and aspects ❣️

ASC CONJUNCT ASC

Initially, this can be a great aspect. Generally, a good understanding of one another. You behave in similar ways at first. Keep in mind other placements such moon, mercury and venus will change the accuracy.

After some time, this aspect’s energy can become stagnant. It’s more of a neutral aspect than an outwardly positive one.

Juno Conjunct Mars

Mars is an active planet. Anything that exactly conjuncts Mars is going to trigger a reaction. When Juno conjuncts Mars, the Mars is likely to be very possessive & protective of Juno. The attraction can be strong. The negative side is Juno may dislike how mars expresses this attraction.

Vesta Conjunct Chiron

The chiron person has the ability to corrupt the vesta person. They can get under the Vesta person’s skin and get them to behave in ways they never thought they would.

The Vesta person can offer selfless devotion to the Chiron person. There can be a chance to heal. Vesta can become a safe person for chiron. However, if the chiron person is unhealed they may reject this and wish to bring the vesta person down with them.

This is most likely happening on a sub conscious level. In some cases, chiron may actually be aware of what they’re doing to the vesta person. It can be a “hurt people hurt people” & “misery lives company” situation.

Jupiter Square Mars

This can be good as this can create an excess of excitement. The two can inspire one another to desire more experience, more adventure, more knowledge.

Jupiter & Mars can have great conversations and ideas together. The downside is one person (likely the Mars) could begin to feel frustrated with Jupiter for not taking action on these ideas. While it is likely the Jupiter person may feel Mars is too quick to act.

Jupiter looks at things from a broader view. Mars may disagree or be unable to see things from Jupiter’s pov.

Mars is more about what’s in front of it right now - focused on personal passion & desires. Jupiter may feel Mars is inconsiderate/selfish.

Accuracy influenced by house and sign.

Jupiter Square Venus

This can be a very fun and loving aspect. The two encourage the other. Both can feel more confident in this relationship. Venus may feel liberated and supported by Jupiter. Jupiter may feel loved and gifted/blessed by Venus.

The downside is this may indicate an enabling partnership. Jupiter’s expansive energy and Venus’s harmonious energy can come together to create bad habits. Ex: exaggerating to the point of almost lying, overspending, overindulging in substances that are bad for you, etc. The couple isn’t likely to challenge each other to become better. Rather they may be prone to lie and/or let things slide to keep the peace.

Jupiter Square Mercury

Harsh mercury aspects are never good. In this situation, Jupiter’s morals/beliefs clash with the Mercury person. Mercury may feel Jupiter is too vague, too focused on the bigger picture and neglecting the details and facts.

Ex: One way for this to manifest is as Jupiter being a religious/spiritual person. Jupiter may share these beliefs but Mercury would be the person to say, well i believe in science. If the two can’t accept that the other has a different view, agreements & frustrations will be at an all time high.

Mercury is more of a logical planet. Mercury takes in info, analyzed and draws conclusions. Jupiter is faith, sometimes faith in something that cannot be seen. For this reason the two are bound to clash.

Accuracy influenced by entire chart.

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writingwithcolor · 1 year

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Avoiding the white savior of the kingdom

@ceo-of-angst asked:

Okay so I'm writing a fantasy series. There's two main kingdoms though there is a third but that one doesn't have to do anything with this ask. Both of them are likely as big as a continent each so there are different climates everywhere, therefore there's a lot of diversity even within one country. The issues mostly is between the two kingdoms nationality wise, as there's a war. The prince of one of the kingdoms kills his older brother to gain the throne. This is where the issue starts. They have a younger (half)sister who ends up leading a revolution bc of her brother's bad rule (famine, war, dictatorship and incantation or sentence to fight to the death in war to anyone who doesn't obbey the government etc), she's white, she's helped by my main cast who are all poc (one of them also from nobility) from the other kingdom and I don't want to accidently make it a white savior She's not my main character though if anything we only see into her pov bc of a difference between kingdoms in book 2. Most of the pov is on my main cast so I don't know how this could pay out.

Add diversity to the kingdom

There is a simple solution: don’t make one kingdom all-white or all-BIPOC. Add in diversity and mixed race. You seem to already be doing that, and it’s not an issue of race but rather tyranny. White saviorism is when only a white character can solve a problem for BIPOC and they’re seen as the hero. If it’s a team effort, where your protagonist is fallible but well-intentioned, you should be fine. -Jaya

Questions to ask yourself

This critique got levied at Tamora Pierce’s Trickster series, and it’s a pretty valid critique of the books—every time you have a white person as a figurehead of an otherwise-diverse movement, you’re going to start getting into why this white person, and why then?

It’s especially salient if you have the person come into an already-established rebellion movement. Is her involvement the thing that gets the privilege necessary to make the movement valid? What about her makes her the ideal top person in the organization?

Why is she white?

My first question is: why is she white? Is it related to colorism and classism? If yes, then why are you automatically making the leading group white if there’s so much diversity and so many other groups can trend extremely pale?

Why are the kingdoms so big?

My second question is: why are the kingdoms so big? It’s actually frighteningly hard to run a continent-sized country. If you’re attempting to make these single groups so big simply for ease of worldbuilding, and for diversity’s sake, know that a country does not have to be large to contain a multitude of groups. You are allowed to have political rivalry in a small area and still maintain diversity within it.

How much privilege is she willing to give up?

My third question is: how much privilege is she willing to give up? Is she trying to take the throne for herself, or is she trying to destroy all of the structures that gave her status in the first place? Because that question will determine how willing the PoC around her are going to be. Why would they support a ruler if they’ve been subjugated by that family, with no real promise she’s going to be any different once she gets in power?

On the flipside, why would she be willing to give up any of her privilege in the name of removing her brother from the throne, and what stops her from going off the deep end once she has the ability to control others?

It’s likely doable to make this situation read as less of a white saviour, but in order to do that you’ll likely need to wask yourself a lot of hard questions about your motives and the character arc you want to have with her.

People may see a white savior, regardless

And you’ll also have to ask yourself if you’ll be comfortable with never really being able to avoid some people calling this a white saviour plot. Even if you do “everything right” and follow every bit of advice you can, there’s always going to be some people who aren’t too thrilled that the person saving everyone is white.

So examine your motives, really nail down what you’re trying to show with this, and come to terms with not making everyone happy no matter what you do.

~Mod Lesya

#white savior #tropes #Fantasy #power dynamics #asks #writing advice

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yujo-nishimura · 3 months

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"Rubber Duckies"

You are stuck with your studies and your research and you decide to use your crew members as rubber duckies to explain to them what you are doing in the hope of overcoming your writer's block.

Words: 1023

Comment: This is something I wrote while I am really stuck. I hope his helps other people who experience the same right now or need a little motivational booster for their papers/exams. The whole fic is fluff with a hint at smut (Law and Kid just always leave me feral).

Let me know in the comments if I should add any characters.

Luffy

He would listen patiently the whole time, lowering his head, his eyes covered by his straw hat. After several minutes, you realize he has fallen asleep. When you ask him a follow-up question, he jolts awake and gives you his brightest, most infectious smile. Despite your frustration, you can't stay mad at him.

"It all sounds very complicated, Y/N," Luffy says. "But I believe in you, and I'm sure you'll excel at this. Now come here, we can cuddle and snack on some of the crisps I swiped from the kitchen!"

His boundless enthusiasm and unwavering faith in you, even when he doesn't fully understand the details, leaves you feeling a little less stuck.

Robin

As you explain your research question and methodology, Robin listens with rapt attention, her eyes never leaving yours. When you finish, she pauses thoughtfully before speaking.

"I think the only thing this study lacks is your confidence, dear Y/N," Robin says, chuckling lightly. Her words strike a chord within you - she has a way of cutting straight to the heart of the matter.

"Can I give you a hug?" you ask, feeling deeply grateful for her patience and wisdom. You know her insights have been invaluable, not just for this project, but for the whole crew.

Robin opens her arms widely and smiles at you. "Of course," she says, enveloping you in a warm embrace. At that moment, you feel the weight of your doubts and insecurities start to lift. Robin's faith in you is a precious gift, and it's exactly the encouragement you need to find the courage to complete your work and submit it.

Law

You decide to explain your work to Law, hoping his keen analytical mind will provide valuable feedback. As you begin speaking, however, you can see his face growing increasingly impatient. He clenches his jaw, clearly struggling to hold back interrupting you.

When you finally finish, Law wastes no time in his critique. "I think the structure is off, Y/N. I don't understand why you chose this theoretical framework, and I'm lost - did you even have a research question?"

You gulp, suddenly realizing you may have forgotten to explicitly state your core research question. Law's piercing gray eyes have a way of making it difficult to maintain focus.

Seeing your flustered expression, Law sighs. "How about you give me the paper to read, and I'll go over it with a red pen?" he offers.

You nod enthusiastically, immediately moving to retrieve the document. "Not now!" Law interjects, grabbing your arm before you can turn away. A mischievous smile plays on his lips beneath his white hat.

"It may not be the best study," he admits. "But the way you've explained it, showcasing your intelligence, has left me wanting more."

Zoro

Falls asleep immediately. Despite your best efforts to engage him, Zoro remains unresponsive, his gentle snoring the only indication that he's still present. You continue talking, but it's clear you're essentially just speaking to yourself at this point.

In a way, Zoro has become the most authentic "rubber duckie" of all - the perfect listener, oblivious to the intricacies of your work, but providing a soothing presence nonetheless.

Sanji

As you dive into the details of your research, you can't help but notice the adoring way his eyes are fixed on you. It's clear that Sanji is enamored, and would likely listen with rapt attention no matter what you chose to talk about.

You continue your explanation, confident that Sanji is absorbing every word, even if he may not fully grasp the intricacies of your work. When you finally conclude, Sanji erupts into enthusiastic applause.

"That was amazing, Y/N!" he exclaims, his face alight with genuine admiration. "You've done such an incredible job with this research. I'm in awe of your brilliance!"

You can't help but sigh, knowing that Sanji's feedback, while well-intentioned, isn't exactly the critical analysis you were hoping for. But as you look into his sincere, shining eyes, you also feel a sense of pride and relief.

Even if you haven't quite overcome your writer's block yet, having someone so genuinely praise your hard work feels like a reward in itself.

Eustass Kid

As you begin explaining the details of your research to Eustass Kid, it's immediately clear that he has little patience or interest in the topic. His brows are furrowed in what can only be described as an annoyed scowl, and he fidgets restlessly in his seat.

Despite his clear disinterest, however, Kid sits through your entire presentation, never once interrupting or trying to leave. You can't help but appreciate the fact that he's making the effort to listen, even if he doesn't seem to understand or care about the intricacies of your work.

When you finally conclude, Kid simply yawns and cocks his head to the side.

"So what's the problem with all this?" he asks, his tone bordering on disinterested. "Sounds like a solid piece of work to me."

You sigh, explaining to him once again that you feel stuck and unsure if you've done a good job. You're hoping for constructive feedback, but it's clear Kid isn't the right person to provide that.

Suddenly, Kid reaches out and grabs your hand, pulling you forcefully towards his chest. You can feel the warmth radiating from his skin as his low voice speaks calmly.

"You're asking the wrong guy about this, Y/N," he says. "I can't tell you if any of the things you did for this research make sense. But if you're struggling right now, I know a way to make you feel better..."

You blush as you realize the implication behind his words, and without further thought, you give in. Perhaps a brief break from your studies, spent in the comforting embrace of someone who cares for you, is exactly what you need to recharge and tackle the problem with a fresh perspective.

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arliedraws · 3 months

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I think what bothers me about folks saying “canon doesn’t matter” is that the spirit of fandom is this concept of a house with no roof. There’s intent of the author, but then there’s interpretation and using evidence from the text to build new meaning. Within the structure of canon, how tall can you build? What can you take from the original context and expand or critique? (Basically, take canon, ask questions like, ‘haha what if these two characters who are best friends in the book fucked either other???’)

But the thing is, instead of building within the original foundations, folks are building entirely new foundations. There isn’t any inherently wrong about fanon, but you don’t get to build a new house with new rules in the lot next door, tell everyone that we all live in the new house now, and burn down the old one while people are still in it. Some of us want to live in the old house and make improvements. That’s not a bad thing.

(Also, you took parts of the old house, particularly the flashy bits that don’t really add quality to the overall structure, to build the new one and then claim “it’s better.”)

Don’t say shit like, “Canon was created by a horrible person so we’re going to ignore it!” God, you don’t get to pick and choose because the characters were literally created by the horrible person! You gotta accept that you are not morally superior to people who use canon to create transformative fic/art.

My point is, if you’re going to change stuff in a fandom that is probably older than you, don’t claim the moral high ground because you’re playing in the exact same garbage patch as the rest of us, and even if you try to cover up your corner with pretty aesthetics, you know we all live in a garbage dump together.

#i’m feeling. irritated.

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meltingmidas · 6 months

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110.0%

Paring: Uni Professor!Hwa x Uni Student!Reader

CW: DomHwa/SubReader, SLIGHT choking, oral m. receiving, degrading, dumbification, hair pulling, Hwa is mean lol (pls lmk if I missed anything!)

WC: 810

Midas’s Notes: Woah Hello!! This is my first ever fic! I apologize for the mess, I’m still trying to set up my theme and structure for this acc..I hope you guys enjoyed my mediocre writing, please leave critiques and tips, or just anything you liked/would like to see more of!! 🫶🏻

🔞 Below 🔞

You never thought you’d be in this position, between your professors legs, hands tight behind you with a belt, kissing the tip of his cock as your own spit runs down your chin. “Come on, I know you can take more, slut. After all, this is your grade we’re dealing with.” Seonghwa snarks, harshly tugging your hair as he forced your head down on him. Your eyes pricking with tears, you try and think back to where you went wrong. Was it when you interrupted his “meeting”, only to find his own hard cock thrusting into his hand, whispering curses as he watches precum leaking into his fingertips. Surely not, maybe he wanted to get caught, knowing you had scheduled tutoring with him that evening.

You realize too late that you’ve halted your actions, leaving your lips just above his twitching length. Your thoughts interrupted by being pulled up, and a hand tightly holding your cheeks up to face him. “Did I tell you to stop?” He questions, a sharpness to his tone. You stammer, “N-no Seon-“ before you finish, he tightens his hold on you, “Address me correctly,” he leans towards you, just inches away from your face, “Did I tell you to fucking stop?” Seonghwa questions you again, his eyes cutting through you. “No, Sir. Please, I’ll do better” you answer, not caring about how desperate you sound. A smirk stretches on his lips, a satisfied sigh leaving him as he watches your head bob up and down on him. “Who knew I had such a cock whore in my class?” Seonghwa says as he plays with your hair, laughing when he hears soft gagging leaving your throat.

“All this for a better grade on a paper you did quite well on, did my student expect this?” He confronts you, his light hair touches turning into fistful tugs. “I see your glances, I see how lustful you are. It’s quite amusing, but sexy, I’ll admit”. He quirks his head to the side, admiring the view below him, “You know how many women would love to be in your position? All of the students who would only dream for this to happen?” He pushes your head down a little harder this time, his hips thrusting up to where your nose hits the base of his cock.

“You really had to dumb yourself down just to get here, huh?” He prods, “You fell from a 109.7% to a 87.9%, I wonder why?” Seonghwa adds a fake concern to his voice while glancing at your past test papers. “Oh well, you’re getting what you wanted, dirty whore.” He spits, every harsh comment rushing to your core, you feel yourself getting more wet with every word. You moan into his cock as you flatten your tongue, making sure your stretch it as far and wide as you can, earning a small moan leaving his mouth.

You look up to him with glossy eyes, meeting his sharp ones. His glasses shine in the dim lighting, his slick black hair messy from running his fingers through it all day. He’s hot. He’s so, unbelievingly hot. “Like the view? I do too, darling. Not everyday I see a stupid bitch below me” he says as he pulls your head up, finally allowing you to take a deep breath. He pumps himself a few times, watching your eyes glance between his dick and his face. A groan leaves him, a smile dancing across his lips. “You gonna let me cum on your pretty face? Ruin that pretty makeup you probably spent hours on just for me?” He sighs when he feels your lips connect to his red tip. You nod eagerly, a rush racing up your spine, a heat pooling straight to your pussy. You swirl around the tip of him, lightly sucking when you hear him hiss above you.

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna cum, open up pretty girl” he says as he reaches to pull your hair, pulling your gaze up off his dick. A soft “pop” leaves your mouth, as you unconsciously stick your tongue out, you watch him vigorously pump a few more times, before a string of “Fuck” leaves his mouth, and ropes of thick white cum drape over your nose, lips, and tongue. You smile as you hear him groan, he finishes draining himself of his seed all over your delicate features. He sighs, his hand releasing the tight grip he had on your hair to hold your cheek. He rubs his cum into your cheek, and gathers onto his thumb to bring to your lips. You obediently oblige, sucking and licking it clean. He huffs, “Good girl. What do you say?” You smile, kissing his thumb as it leaves your mouth. “Thank you Sir.” Needless to say your grade is now 110.0%, and you’re excited to see him next session.

#ateez #ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #kpop #kpop smut #park seonghwa #seonghwa #seonghwa smut #seonghwa x reader

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bloodywickedvamp · 2 years

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Two's Company - What The Hell Is Six?

Poly!Lost Boys x GN Reader x Michael

Series Masterlist

Summary: Reader is dating Michael Emerson and they're fed up with his uncharacteristic behavior towards his family and them since moving to Santa Carla. They decided to finally confront Michael on the boardwalk with an audience of 4 in attendance.

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings: angst, heated argument (?) more so the reader just yelling, maybe a little gaslighting if you look hard, cursing

Hi! This is my first fic so any notes or critiques on how I can improve my writing or any notes at all are greatly appreciated. Hope you enjoy! This may or may not turn into a multi-part fic. I have a bigger idea for it but we'll see if i have it in me to do it lol. Also, let me know if I missed any warnings and i'll be sure to add them.

Dividers: @saradika & @firefly-graphics

Michael Fucking Emerson...

The man I love more than anything has become someone I don't even want to know.

After moving to Santa Carla from Phoenix he changed so drastically I still can't seem to wrap my head around it. We've been together for a few years now and I became so close to his mom and brother that it felt natural to accept when he offered for me to come with them and stay for the summer once the time came for the move.

After his first few nights on the boardwalk is when I noticed the shift. He went off on his own as I was hanging with Sam or Lucy and wouldn't come home till the very early hours of the morning. He was rude and snippy to the questioning from his mom. Harsh and mean to Sam, more so than the typical sibling bickering and teasing that they engaged in. He'd keep his distance from me, like he could barely stand to be around me at all and completely blow me off any time I tried to talk or spend time together. It's only gotten worse and I'm at my wits end with it.

After having a tearful heart to heart with Lucy about his 180 in behavior I decided to take matters into my own hands whether he likes it or not.

I start my journey to the place that I've begun to despise, associating it with the 'new Michael'.

Finally, I spot my elusive brunette exactly where I thought he'd be, on the boardwalk but to my surprise he's also surrounded by a group of intimidating looking bikers. Two rowdy blondes, one with an impressively long curly haired mullet and an eye catching custom patchwork jacket adorned his somewhat smaller, muscular stature. The other untamed boy, with wild hair to match and a dark fishnet top that leaves almost nothing to the imagination, is nearly bouncing around the others with glee at whatever they're discussing. Next I notice a tall, dark, and handsome brunette to their right who takes the cake at revealing outfits with the lack of shirt and wide open leather jacket. With the slightest of smiles he's leaning against presumably his own motorcycle observing the rest of his group and the crowd at large. Lastly, to the right of the brunette and the left of Michael, there's a bleach blonde mullet you couldn't miss for miles a top the most intimidating looking one, wearing a too-stuffy seeming trench coat for this Santa Carla summer heat.

In a normal circumstance I would have slight hesitation to approach the group alone so boldly, as I find myself doing now, but I couldn't care less who's around. At this moment the only person to be feared on the boardwalk is me. I'm on mission for some answers and god help the poor soul who fucks with me right now.

As I take my final few strides towards my boyfriend they all notice me. The four unknown boys go quiet as they take me in curiously, a determined walk, pissed off expression, heavy breathing, and clenched fists.

"Michael fucking Emerson!" I erupted, jabbing my finger in his chest, coming face to face with the wide eyed boy.

"Hey baby-" He tried cautiously.

"Oh good you actually do remember you have a partner"

"Look I know you're upset and rightfully so but-"

I hold my hand up to silence whatever bullshit was about to spill from his mouth. "No no no, I'm still talking and you're listening." He nods his head slowly, afraid to set me off even more, if that's possible. I hear rather than see snickers to my right from the others.

"I don't know what's been going on with you and why you've been treating everyone in your life like shit but I'm sick and tired of it and I want answers. Now." The words spill heatedly from my lips as my anger intensifies from the inevitable release pent up over the past few weeks. Michaels mouth opens whether in shock or to interject, I don't know but I cut him off before I can find out.

"It's one thing the way you've been treating me - and trust me we'll get to that" I accentuate with a pointed finger in the air and back down after. "but it's a whole other thing with Lucy and Sam. You barely talk to or see Sam anymore and he's devastated, you're his best friend and he misses you. Your mother does absolutely everything she can for you and Sam. She upended her entire life in Phoenix to give you both a fresh start - since the move you've done nothing but push her away every time she tries to talk. That woman is the sweetest person on this planet and I'll be damned if you think I'm going to let you walk all over her anymore." Huffing at the end of my tirade.

If Michael's eyes got any wider they would've popped out of his head. Maybe the middle of the boardwalk wasn't the best place to do this but I couldn't contain it anymore. The nice approach hasn't worked and he needed a good telling off.

"You're right, everything you're saying is right but maybe we could do this more privately" Michael offered while trying to gently grab my upper arm to pull me somewhere else. With a worried look in his eyes he glanced at the boys then back at me pleadingly.

"Oh I'm sorry, am I embarrassing you in front of your new friends? Who I've never met or heard anything about by the way." I argued back while also taking the time to look them over, up close now.

They all seem to be enjoying themselves watching Michael's berating. Smirks and giggles passing amongst the group as they share knowing glances between them and at me, like they're having a secret conversation only the leather clad bikers can understand.

Piercing blue eyes land on me as bleach-boy flirted "You're a fiery little thing aren't you? I can't believe it's taking this long for us to meet, Michael, how come you didn't introduce us sooner?" He jabbed, finally tearing his eyes away from mine towards the conflicted brunette in front of me.

"You know why David." Michael states matter of factly. His grip on my arm tightening ever so slightly, voice husky with something primal I've never heard from him before.

"Can't imagine why you'd want to hide a babe like this away, it just doesn't seem fair." The tallest blonde beamed at me starry eyed and grinning cheerfully. He moved closer to reach out and stroke my hair quicker than I could register, taking in a small almost imperceptible inhale from me if I wasn't paying close attention. Releasing a contented sigh before I was pulled back towards Michael.

"Don't touch them, don't even think about it." he sneered.

"Come on Mike, we aren't going to hurt 'em. Right Paul?"

"Right on Marko." Paul jested as Marko playfully elbowed him.

What the fuck is happening and who the hell are these guys? Jumping into the one-sided argument between me and my boyfriend to start flirting? Are they his friends? Last time I checked friends don't hit on their friends' significant others, especially right in front of them so shamelessly.

"You never mentioned you were dating someone." The other brunette tacked on to the conversation speaking for the first time. Giving me a once over with those alluring brown eyes, hungrily.

I stared daggers back at the boy holding me in a tight grip, ripping my arm away to mock "Wow, why am I not surprised." I desperately try to steal my emotions to keep the hurt and betrayal from coming to the forefront.

"You don't understand and I don't even know how to explain but you have to believe me it's for your own good." Michael again pleads for my compassion. It's too late for that.

"Of course I don't understand you don't tell me anything anymore! You blow me off, ignore me, and I assume these four are the reason for your revamp in personality." I fumed, gesturing to the group. Chuckles are heard again, at the end of my outburst.

"Are you cheating?" I suddenly asked

"What no-" Michael sputtered in surprise.

"Did you meet someone else?"

"No of course no-"

"Did you do something that could hurt Sam, Lucy, or I?"

"NO babe-"

"Then I don't see what could be so bad that you feel the need to push us all away and act like this. The only reason I'm still standing here putting up with this is because I deserve an explanation and I promised Lucy I'd get answers out of you. So start talking." I sassed.

With a defeated sigh he raised his hands in surrender "Okay Okay, walk with me to the beach and i'll explain everything to you, alone." Emphasizing his final word with a sneer towards David. David only found that amusing as he quirked an eyebrow and took out the cigarette resting behind his ear placing it between his lips and lighting it. He inhaled and blew out a cloud of smoke stating "You sure about that Michael? You're already on edge, we wouldn't want you to lose control and hurt our doll now would we?"

Our? I barely had time to register or retort back at the presumptuous claim before Michael grabbed my hand and stormed off to the beach, steam basically pouring out of his ears.

To be continued...

I feel alright about this so far. Again it's my first ever fic post so you know...it is what it is. :)

🖤 Taglist 🖤

@britany1997

#bloodywickedvamp #the lost boys #the lost boys x reader #michael emerson #michael emerson x reader #poly lost boys x reader #poly!lost boys x reader #tlb 1987 #lost boys x gn reader #david tlb #paul tlb #dwayne tlb #marko tlb #michael tlb #michael emerson x gn reader #x gn reader #the lost boys x gn reader

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sarcasticscribbles · 2 months

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Do you think drawing fat people is hard?

It’s a bit different from drawing slimmer people, especially when most references and art assets mainly showcase slimmer folks. Plus-sized characters in media are far and few in between, and they often just have a little more curve with a slim face. There's nothing wrong with that, but everyone has different weight distributions, which can lead to a lot of diversity in body types!

I don't think drawing fat people is “hard”, but it can take a little longer to seek out references for the anatomy. There are some good resources online but one I've found super helpful is FAT PHOTO REFERENCE, you need approval to access it but once you're in there are so many amazing photos of bigger people posing!

AdorkaStock (also known as Senshi Stock) have a great body diversity for art references, and a rich library of different poses!

In general, I decide what body shape I want to go for and add some mass to it based on my reference; I based a lot of my character designs on shapes, so that decided the weight distributions. Good to remember about weight is that it weighs (lol), so instead of just adding rounder shapes to characters, make sure it's also pulling down a little.

Double chins are very common but rarely showcased, so I think it's a good feature to add if you want to draw a bigger person.

I’m not sure if any of this is helpful, or if the question was meant to offer advice or just to critique my character designs (which is fair). As an artist, I've noticed that “flaws”—and I mean more than just weight, as someone who has struggled with my own size—make for more engaging character designs.

Adding my own insecurities to character designs helps me accept and embrace the uniqueness of features that aren't often seen; everyone deserves to be seen, because we’re all here, and life’s too short to strive for a picture-perfect existence.

#idk if you were trying to shade me here but #yeah fair i mainly draw the same characters that I hc to be more fit or slimmer.#that's fair #i like that the tmaoc have some more diversity in them I always get a little happy when the fat option wins #character deisgn #artist advice #art advice

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ily-fictional-women · 9 months

Text

Christmas Blues

Summary: Kate’s feeling down but Y/n is gonna do her best to fix that.

Pairing: Kate Bishop x fem!reader

Warnings: None that I know of but if I should add anything let me know

Word count: 1501

a/n: Just something for the Holiday season! (Reblogs are welcome and critiques/advice are heavily encouraged, but please no translating.)

With it being the Christmas season Kate and Y/n agreed to have a small date night at Kate’s apartment watching a Christmas movie while cozying up together. Although during the movie the two sit beside each other one of Y/n’s hands on the back of Kate’s head playing with her hair. Typical Kate is one to talk throughout a movie this time she’s quiet, too quiet.

Turing just slightly Y/n looks over at Kate, there’s not even a slight grin on her face. Y/n moves her hand from the back of the girl's head down to the back of her neck, “Hey.” Kate snaps her attention at the sudden change, “Yeah?” Biting the inside of her cheek Y/n tries to find the right words for the moment, “Katie, are you okay? Where’s your head at?”

“What do you mean?” Kate shifts in her seat at the question. Y/n pauses the movie putting her full attention on Kate, “Look, I’ve known and loved you for a while. So I’d like to think I know when you’re stuck in your head. You don’t have to tell her anything but if you want to tell me I wanna know.”

Kate shrugs nervously, “I guess it’s just the Christmas season. Ever since the whole Fisk thing and the thing with my mom going away, it feels like the Holiday season is just a reminder of all the bad instead of the good.” Y/n starts lightly drawing shapes into the back of Kate's neck trying to think of any kind of solution, “Is it being in New York that’s a reminder of it or is it just a feeling in general?”

Kate rests a hand on Y/n’s thigh trying to distract herself from how she was feeling, “Probably a mix of both. But I think being her plays a big part in it. Why?” Y/n shakes her head nonchalantly, “Just trying to figure out how you’re feeling.” As the moment settles down and the movie’s unpaused Y/n interrupts again.

“Do you have any hot cocoa powder?” Kate’s brows furrow for a moment, “No. I don’t think so at least did you want some or something?” Y/n quickly gets up putting a coat on, “Yeah I was thinking of having some. I’ll go out and pick up enough for the both of us.” Both Kate and Lucky turn their heads as Y/n goes for the door. “Did you want me to come with you?” Y/n smiles shaking her head at the question, “No don’t worry. I want you to relax.”

Y/n was going out to get hot cocoa mix but there was also another plan. Making it out of the apartment building Y/n pulls out her phone calling the only person she knew could probably help. “Hey, Clint can we talk?”

There’s some murmurs in the background of the call but they slowly get quieter, “Hey, yeah, Y/n what’s up?”

“It’s Kate, Clint, I’m worried about her. She doesn’t seem like herself. She was talking about how all the Fisk stuff and her mom being locked up was getting to her. But she said it mostly tied to being in New York so I was wondering if we could come over for a little. Mostly so I could see if it would cheer her up.”

“I mean yeah that shouldn’t be a problem I’ma just ask Laura first.” For about two minutes Clint is obviously on mute leaving Y/n standing in the New York snow. The sudden loud background noise shocks Y/n from the cold though, “Okay, Laura said it’s alright. Are you guys gonna be here tomorrow or later?”

“Tomorrow works just fine I’ll get her to pack up tonight.” Right before Y/n’s about to hang up there’s some loud murmuring in the background before she hears Clint’s voice again, “Oh uh Lila said to to pack ugly sweaters. We’re having a contest and Nate is judging.”

“Will do Clint.”

Getting back to the apartment Y/n quickly brushes off the excess snow on her coat before hanging it up the small bag of hot cocoa powder in hand. Heating some milk Y/n flops on the couch with Kate, “Soooo. You’re gonna need to pack a bag.” Kate raises an eyebrow cracking a nervous grin, “Why do I need to pack a bag exactly?”

“We're going on a trip to get out of here. You’ll like it I promise.” The confidence in Y/n’s demeanor was just enough to convince Kate to go pack a bag. “Oh wait,” Y/n stops her before she can get too far. “You’re gonna need to pack an ugly sweater.”

DAY 1 Making it to the Barton home Kate has a tight grip on Lucky’s leash, or that it is until Clint opens the door to the house bolting in to play with the kids. “Hey, Clint.” Kate opens up her arms to a hug from the older man. Clint looks at the two of you up and down noticing the ugly sweaters. “I see you both dressed up for today.” He examines both sweaters closely, “No offense Y/n but Kate is definitely winning the ugly sweater contest today.”

Y/n looks at the man genuinely shocked, “How?! Mine has Shrek and you said Nate was judging.” Clint looks over at both sweaters again, “No yeah Kate definitely wins. The owl’s eyes are so beady it creeps me out.” Kate smirks to herself, “That’s not the worst of it.” Clicking a button on one of the sleeves of the sweater the eyes of the owl begin to light up.

Letting out the most dad laugh possible Clint looks back at Y/n’s sweater, “Y/n I bet $5 Nate will pick Kate's sweater over your's." Y/n puts out her hand shaking Clint's taking the offer, “You’re on old man. It'll be your Christmas gift to me." Ignoring the old man comment Clint invites the two in to begin the ugly sweater contest.

DAY 1 (NIGHT) Y/n scans the dark living room, “Where are the kids and Laura?” Kate readjusts the blanket she has wrapped around herself sitting in front of the fireplace. “They all went to bed, how was the whole wood-chopping thing with Clint?” Y/n tosses a fresh piece of wood into the fireplace, “Surprisingly boring. Did you guys do anything?”

“We mostly just played some small games Laura found online. But what I want right now is for you to sit with me.” Kate stretches out her arms like a kid wanting to be picked up. Sitting down with Kate Y/n admires the fire for a moment turning over to Kate. “Have you had fun so far?”

Kate’s gaze stays on the fire watching it crackle and burn, “Actually, yeah. I have. I still don’t think it’s fair you won the ugly Christmas sweater contest though.” Y/n fake coughs quietly murmuring, “Sore loser.” Kate quickly flops on top of Y/n with a playful smile, “What did you just say?”

Y/n looked around the room pretending to try and find the answer as she moved her hands to Kate’s hips to make sure she didn’t fall off the couch. “Hmm, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t say anything! I swear.” Kate leans in a little closer to Y/n’s face, “Really? Because I could have sworn you called me a sore loser.”

Y/n lets out a loud sarcastic gasp, “Me?! I would never!” Kate looks at her questioningly, “Really now?” Y/n smiles cockily, “Nope never! Now how about you lean in just a little bit closer and kiss me so we can go to bed?” Giggling into a kiss Kate agrees ending a blissful night.

DAY 3 (NIGHT) With yesterday being an almost full day of baking cookies everyone was still fairly tired, especially being tired of taking orders from Laura in the kitchen. Because of this, everyone agreed today would be the Christmas movie marathon. First, it started with some of the classics.

You had The Grinch, Home Alone, A Christmas Carol, and so much more. The best part was probably the kids' commentary though Kate especially found it funny that quote “Captain America looked so much like the boy from A Christmas Story”.

Throughout the night it was obvious Kate was becoming happier and happier, especially compared to how she had been feeling before the trip. It was hard for Y/n to not stare at Kate being happy again. It was like she could see a light through her smiles and laugh. A light she hadn’t seen in a while.

Kate leans over to Y/n still intently watching the movie, “Thank you for this trip. I love it. And I love you.” Y/n smiles softly, “I love you most.” This, this moment. It was the only Christmas gift Y/n needed.

#kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop x y/n #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop fanfiction #kate bishop fic #kate bishop #hawkeye series #hawkeye #clint barton #yelena mcu #marvel imagine #ily fictional women

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littlemissmentallyunstable · 24 days

Note

yeah can I request another one

thanks for your request!! sorry it took me so long to complete, there’s been a bit of a list as of late. here is another jameson x actress reader fic, hope you enjoy 🤍🤍

title: cheers rich boy

pairing: jameson hawthorne x reader

synopsis: you are an actress attending an event when a certain Hawthorne catches you off guard

warnings:

a/n: hope you enjoy reading 🤍🤍 apologies it took me AGES

tag list: @tornqdowarnings @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @sweetlikeanangel @lxvebelle @xoxo-vee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual

Your bodyguard opens the door of your limo and you step out onto a blood red velvet carpet. The startling flashes of cameras are nothing to you now, paparazzi have become a common occurrence that you’ve gotten used to. You tentatively take your bodyguard’s extended arm, barely gripping it as the flashes increase. You smile, posing for a few shots, ignoring the thousands of questions being screamed at you.

“Are you dating anyone?”

“How much were you paid on your latest movie?”

“Are you pregnant?”

“I think I’m in love with you!”

“How many men have you slept with?”

“You look gorgeous!”

“Look over here! My camera!”

“I WANT TO HAVE YOUR BABIES!!”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes at that last request. You follow your bodyguard into the large oak doors, with some sort of elaborate gold leaf design decorating them. He let your arm go and gave you a nod, as he skulked away. This is just another function for the rich and famous, nothing too special. You were used to them by now. They came easily and never made much of a memory. You had to show up, smile, make small talk, then leave. Simple.

Gracefully you walk through the doors, your navy blue gown trailing behind you a little. Ripples of silky fabric looking like a midnight waterfall, long and entrancing. Your head is held high, radiating the confidence you’d earned from years in this field. Now it was like second nature. Heads turned, eyes widened and fixated on you, smiles were shot in your direction. You are used to turning heads when you enter a room.

You acknowledge the ones you feel necessary and make your way to an area that looks the most isolated from the people. A few women you vaguely recognised approach you, taking your out of your princess moment.

“Your performance in ‘the high of love’ was simply exquisite,” one says, clutching to her heart.

You try not to cringe thinking about how you could never watch that movie back without critiquing your every move.

“Yes and in ‘opposites attract’,” another adds, “that was phenomenal!”

That one was even worse, you’d starred in that when you were only seventeen and quite new in the business.

“Thank you ladies, it’s so kind of you to say,” you smile, “I do try to give a good performance and I’m glad you enjoyed.”

They both give a polite nod and you take that as your chance to get away. Small talk had never really been your forte, much less small talk with the rich and famous, who usually weren’t the most interesting people to hold conversation with.

You make your way towards a casual champagne tower is perched in the centre of the large room and take a second to breathe in the surroundings. The room feels like a ballroom. Large glass windows that display the setting sun that splashes the sky in oranges, pinks and yellows. A million dollar chandelier hung in the centre, made up on expensive crystals and diamond-encrusted metal swirls.

You plan to stay as long as it take to get to the first speech and then sneak out the back when nobody was looking, it made it easier to avoid paparazzi then as well. Two birds, one stone. You spot a reasonably lonely area near a cabinet that was no doubt filled with precious and highly pricey antiques. But as you make your way over someone catches your eye.

People don’t catch your eye. Ever. But a mysterious man in a suit has. He’s gorgeous and probably dirt rich seen as he’s wearing an Armani suit, a deep ebony colour, that contrasted well with his eyes. His hair was dark, luscious and a little unruly but somehow he made it work. You couldn’t look away.

Why? That was what was bothering you the very much. Why on earth was some man at this function catch your eye and then further still play on your mind? It’s unlike you. You weren’t there type to sit around gawking at boys at events, you were headstrong, independent and didn’t need a man.

Mid thought, you look up just as he does. Harsh eye contact ensues. The green is like some sort of hypnosis that made you feel like a marionette. So alluring, so compelling. The connection so strong it felt unbreakable. Except it wasn’t. He looks away, unbothered. A feeling stirs in your stomach, an ignited spark of undignified annoyance. People don’t do that to you. They don’t turn their back unbothered, at least not your face. You have a reputation. People stopped and stared, people begged for your photograph, people cared. What was his deal?

You attempt to work out who he was. He was obviously famous or dating someone famous, which strangely you hoped he wasn’t, or he wouldn’t have been invited. You oddly recognise the parts of his face. The sharp jawline, angled nose, bold green eyes. But where from?

You were curious. Too curious.

Subtly you make your way towards the bar, close to the corner he is standing in. You hate yourself for secretly hoping he’ll notice and make his way over. You turn around to give him a second glance. Did he have to be so beautiful?

He makes eye contact and your heart suddenly picks up its pace, irritating you. You shouldn’t care this much that your body isn’t control of itself. You look him up and down and turn away. You could swear you’d seen a flicker of a smile of his face as your turned but it was too quick to be sure.

“One martini please,” you order with your polite smile plastered on your face.

“Make that two.”

You raise an eyebrow as the mystery man appears by your side. So you had gotten his attention.

“They’re on me,” he offers.

“I don’t need you to pay for me,” you tell him bluntly.

“Believe me I know that,” he smirks, “think of it as a gesture.”

“What kind of gesture?” you say, narrowing your eyes.

“One of honourable intention,” he assures you.

After a few moments of silent pondering you silently nod in agreement as the bartender rushes off. You can feel the man’s eyes pinned to you, but you don’t want to give into the temptation of looking back.

“Nice party,” he comments.

You cave and look back towards him, “quite,” you agree

“Are you here with anyone?” he asks.

“I don’t need anyone,” you reply sharply, more defensive than yours intended to come a cross.

“I’m sure you don’t,” he says the smile in his voice as well as on his face, he’s amused, “I’m here with my brother but I seem to have lost him.”

“Don’t you want to go and find him?” I wonder aloud.

“He’ll find his own way, he’s very resilient like that,” he explains.

The bartender comes back with the martinis at that moment and the man pays. Oddly you find yourself letting him. It’s nice being taken care of every once in a while. He slides a glass towards you, as you notice how the lighting made his green eyes a little bolder, fiercer.

“Enjoy moviestar,” he nods, a lopsided grin on his face.

“Cheers rich boy,” you say, with a whisper of a smile.

You take a swig from the glass. The refreshing burst of lemon hitting you before the strong gin sends the warmth into your chest.

He glances at you slightly, “I’m Jameson.”

“Jameson…” you prompt.

“Hawthorne,” he clarifies.

Hawthorne. Of course. It all made sense now. His sleek demeanour, his wicked smile, his addictive eyes. You remain neutral faced, not portraying what you thought for him to analyse. Hawthornes tended to do that.

“I’m-“

“I know exactly who you are,” he smiles, “how could anyone not with those eyes?”

A fluttery feeling invades your stomach, an unwanted guest in your body. You didn’t feel like this over people, especially not a man.

“My eyes?” you ask stupidly, as if in some sort of concussion-provoked daze.

“They’re breathtaking,” he compliments.

Red flushes through your cheeks and your face heats up, despite you not wanting it to. You try and ignore the compliment and not get so flustered by two words said by a sexy man in a suit.

“Then why did you look away from them so quickly earlier?” you challenge.

“Oh easy,” Jameson smirks with a shrug, “mind games.”

“Mind games?”

He nods, a wide smile on his face with a sparkling eyes, that send a twinge of annoyance down your spine.

“I don’t appreciate being toyed with,” you say in a disapproving tone.

“But I got your attention didn’t I?” he replies.

You feel like your tongue has been cut out as words don’t seem to remember how to form words.

“Would you have approached me otherwise?” he asks with a smirk.

“That doesn’t matter,” you say sharply, lying to myself as well as Jameson.

He quirks a brow, “doesn’t it?”

Yet again you find yourself scrambling for words like an incompetent idiot. Being at a loss for words was such an unfamiliarity it felt foreign. Why did he have this effect on you?

“So how about we get out of here?” he suggests, with a wink which I can only interpret as flirty.

You look at him, “just leave?”

“What? You’ve never pulled a runner on one of these tireless events?” Jameson chuckles, taking another sip of his martini.

“Of course I have,” you roll my eyes, “the bathroom window is my go to.”

It was true. The easiest way to slip away from these things unnoticed were bathroom windows, no one sees you leaving.

“Excellent so you already have the skill,” he replies, flashing me a grin, “what do you say we put it to the test?”

You pause for a few beats and then make the impulsive decision.

“Where were you thinking to go?” you ask, an eyebrow raised sceptically.

“Come with me and you’ll find out,” he smiles, face millimetres from mine.

You glance around, looking over your shoulder. No one was watching. It couldn’t hurt.

“You’re on Hawthorne,” you murmur, taking his hand.

a/n: if you haven’t read it already, there is another jameson x actress reader fic called starstruck and similarly a grayson x singer reader fic called paparazzi

TIG masterlist

#the inheritance games #tig #jameson hawthorne #i love jameson hawthorne #jameson hawthorne x reader #jameson x reader #jameson #the brothers hawthorne #the final gambit #the hawthorne legacy #tgg #the grandest game #jlb

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angelmatthew · 9 months

Text

₊˚.༄ ginger tea - sung hanbin

this is very self indulgent because i was sick last week too :(( i can never keep sickfics short and sweet because i'm a sucker for whump, this is very soft whump though ! my writing's still a bit rusty but it's getting better (i hope). also, i'm still not sure about the layout for my posts so i'm trying out different things, i'll stick to one layout eventually!

🖇️request

↬hanbin x gn!reader ↬2054 words ↬fluff, soft angst, one shot ↬tw: mentions of vomit, a little bit whumpy, not proofread

your muscles were aching, your head pounding like a bass drum and you could barely breathe with your stuffy nose. you had to be in class in an hour but getting out of bed was a daunting mission.

you rolled over, clinging to the warmth of your bed, hoping a few more minutes might work a magic fix. and, before you knew it, you were out like a light.

you’re woken up two hours later by the sound of your phone ringing.

"hey, where are you sweetheart?" you picked up the phone without even checking the caller. once you recognize the familiar voice, you immediately snap into a sitting position, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

"oh my god, bin, i’m so sorry i overslept," you confess. you hear background chatter and figure hanbin is already at the coffee shop for your study date. he promised to help you with your finals, despite his busy schedule.

hanbin's voice carries genuine concern. "it’s okay, your voice sounds tired, are you feeling alright?"

“i’m okay," you hesitantly admit, "just feeling a bit under the weather. i'm so sorry for making you wait."

you downplay your ailment, though you can never fully deceive hanbin; his perceptive nature sees through your attempt to minimize the situation. the guilt starts settles in.

"It’s alright, i'm coming over," he reassures you with his signature comforting tone. there's not a single trace of annoyance in his voice, even though he's been patiently waiting for you for the past thirty minutes.

"no! it's okay. I know you're busy, and you made time for me to help with studying, and—" you start to babble, but hanbin interrupts with a soft chuckle.

"my schedule's never too packed for you. plus, it gives me an excuse to escape practice." he speaks in that sing-songy voice you adore, prompting a genuine smile from you.

"well, in that case, i'm glad i could rescue you from the clutches of boredom."

he laughs, "exactly. I’m bringing some medication, tea and cuddles."

true to his word, a few minutes later, there's a gentle knock on your door. you’re greeted with a bear hug and whisker dimples.

“how are you feeling beautiful ?” you can't help but grimace at the pet name, your hair's a mess, you’re pretty sure there’s a toothpaste stain on your sweatshirt, and the fever's turned you into a bit of a sweat machine.

"i look awful," you grumble, stealing a quick glance at your reflection in the small corridor mirror. hanbin's eyebrows furrow, he's quick to interrupt your self-critique.

"you always look beautiful to me," he adds, a reassuring smile accompanying his words. he then, presses his palm against your forehead, seamlessly slipping into concerned-mom-mode. his eyes pop wide, and his lips pull a total 'o' move – the classic hanbin surprise face.

"you're burning up!" he exclaims, guiding you to the couch with a gentle urgency, concerned that standing might tire you out even more. your dizziness was palpable; even reaching the front door felt like a monumental effort.

"did you eat something since this morning?" hanbin questions while putting the grocery bags on the kitchen island, his focus shifting to the small pharmacy bag.

"no, i felt too nauseous," you admit, your voice laced with a hint of shame.

he pauses, worry etched across his features, but he swiftly transforms it into a warm beam, the last thing he wants is to make you feel bad. "no worries, love. let's get you cozy first,"

he disappears into your room, returning with a fluffy blanket and a pile of cushions. he arranges the cushions, making sure they cradle you just right. the blanket, soft and inviting, is draped over you, and he tucks its edges gently, creating a cozy nest.

you can't help but admire his simple yet caring gestures. there's a warmth in his eyes, a quiet assurance that makes you feel secure.

"better?" he asks, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort.

“yes, thanks bin, you're an angel” you grab his hand, trying to convey your appreciation as best as you can — can’t risk a kiss in your current state. hanbin takes your hand in his, and kisses each of your knuckles softly, you feel like your heart might explode. in moments like these, you wonder how you got this lucky.

“no need to thank me, now, you need to take your medication…" he makes his way to the kitchen and rummages through the grocery bags, revealing an array of medicine.

he hands you a cup of water along with a few pills and another cup filled with a suspiciously white liquid. "i know it looks like a lot, but the pharmacist promised it should work wonders,"

you nod reluctantly, eyeing the medicine-filled cup. you take a sip of the chalky liquid, the taste makes your face scrunch up in immediate disgust.

"ugh, it's gross," you whine, hanbin chuckles at your distaste.

"you did it! now, the water to wash away the icky aftertaste," he hands you the water with an encouraging smile. "bottoms up!”

you manage a small grin, appreciating his encouragement, and with a final gulp, you conquer the medicine ordeal.

"now, about the nausea, how about a little snack, you can’t take more medicine on an empty stomach" hanbin suggests, you manage a weak nod, grateful for his attention. as he heads back to the kitchen, you can't shake the lingering discomfort; the idea of ingesting any food makes you feel even more nauseous but you don’t want to discourage your boyfriend.

he returns with a plate of crackers and slices of apple, “you don’t have to finish it all,” he hands you the fork with an encouraging nod then turns on the TV and puts on your comfort show, in the hopes that having distraction will make it easier for your stomach to handle the meal.

hanbin watches you eat with a mix of hope and concern, his eyes searching for signs of improvement. after a few bites, your stomach rumbles, and you reluctantly set down your fork. he doesn't want to force you to eat but on the other hand that the lack of nutrition might make you feel worse.

"just one more bite, okay?" hanbin insists, his voice soft. instead of waiting for your response, he picks up a piece of apple and brings it to your lips, offering it with a reassuring smile. "small bites. we'll take it slow."

you take a deep breath before taking another miniscule bite, but as hanbin's hopeful gaze meets yours, the nausea suddenly intensifies. without warning, you get up abruptly, rushing to the bathroom as your stomach rebels. your boyfriend follows, concern etched on his face. you wish he didn’t but he holds your hair gently as you vomit, the sound echoing in the small space.

“i'm so sorry," each retch is accompanied by a twinge of shame, intensified by the fact that fever has left you a bit delirious. you can't help but shed a few tears. yet, through it all, hanbin remains unwaveringly calm and gentle, rubbing your back soothingly.

"shh, it's okay” he repeats, his voice a steady anchor in the storm. he stays by your side, offering comfort as you navigate through this less-than-pleasant moment. as you finish, he helps you rinse your mouth, his touch gentle against the fatigue and fever.

guiding you back to the living room, he reassures, "take your time," and tucks you under the blanket. "if you're not up for eating, we can try again later."

you stare at his expression, he looks even more concerned than before, and you're not sure why but an odd inclination to cry takes hold. maybe it's because hanbin is right here, taking care of you, even handling the less glamorous parts without seeming annoyed or bothered in the slighest. your thoughts became a muddled blend of exhaustion, an overwhelming swell of gratitude, and an uneasy undercurrent of guilt,

as you struggled to fend off the fever-induced haze in your mind, you hadn't noticed hanbin quietly settling beside you, extending a glass of water. "small sips,"

you accept the glass, your body still tense from the earlier ordeal. "i'm sorry," you repeat while trying to supress the sob that threatens to escape your lips.

"hey, don't be sorry," he says, wiping away a tear with a tenderness that melts the tension, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. "i'm the one who made you eat when you didn't feel like it. we'll take it one step at a time, okay?" his soothing voice intensifies your emotions, and you find yourself shedding a few more tears, feeling extra awful with your scratchy throat and stuffy nose.

being the empath that he is, hanbin seems on the brink of tears himself, but he doesn't succumb. instead, he gently rubs your back and strokes your hair, humming your favorite songs in an attempt to help you calm down.

"think you need some sleep," he whispers after a few minutes. you nod weakly, and he helps you shift into a more comfortable position, fluffing the pillows and adjusting the blankets.

"anything hurting?" he asks while tucking you in, his fingers gently ensuring the edges of the blankets cocoon you snugly.

"my whole body is aching," you murmur, the exhaustion evident in your voice. moments later, hanbin returns from the kitched with warm heat packs, their comforting weight carefully arranged on your body. as he tends to you, the furrow on his brow and his careful, deliberate movements betray the emotional toll it takes on him to witness you in discomfort. he refrains from asking more questions, not wanting to exhaust you or burden you; he still feels a bit guilty from the ealier nausea ordeal.

before he even gets the chance to check on you again, you've already drifted off to sleep. when you slowly open your eyes two hours later, hanbin is still hovering over you, changing the wet cloth on your forehead with a fresh, cool one.

"hey sleepyhead, feeling better?" he asks, gently stroking your cheek. you nod slowly, his cool hand soothing your warm face.

now that your mind is clearer and the fever has gone down, you feel the shame settle in — you've never been this vulnerable in front of hanbin, you know he doesn't mind taking care of you but you feel sorry nonetheless.

"thank you again, for taking care of me, i was a complete mess earlier," you shyly blurt out.

"it's what i'm here for my love," in response, he graces you with that infectious smile, reminiscent of fluffy clouds and blooming spring flowers.

hanbin leaves your side momentarily but returns with a steaming mug of ginger tea, its comforting aroma filling the room.

"here, this might help you feel even better," he says, handing you the mug. the warmth of the tea and his comforting presence start to chase away the stiffness in your body.

hanbin settles down beside you, wrapping his arms around you in a gentle embrace.

"You know," he starts with a mischievous glint in his eye, "you owe me. i've been exposed to your germs," you chuckle and hanbin's relieved to see you laugh.

"i don't mind as long as I get to cuddle you like this," you say, sinking deeper into the embrace.

"even when I'm all sweaty?"

"you did it for me, i don't see why i wouldn't do it for you," you say, your tone light but filled with genuine affection.

hanbin seems a bit taken aback by your response. even though he spends his time taking care of the people around him, accepting the same level of care from others has always been a bit challenging for him. it's as if he fears it might compromise his dependable attitude. however, ever since you started dating, he's been gradually getting used to the idea and the same goes for you — taking care of each other even in the messiest moments felt more natural.

"you've got yourself a deal. just promise you won't judge the sweaty, sickly version of me too harshly."

you playfully roll your eyes, "bring it on, i'm ready for it warts and all,"

with a smirk, he leans in, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead. "i'll hold you to that."

#ꔫ˚｡angel ˚｡ꔫ writes #sung hanbin x reader #sung hanbin #fluff #zb1 #kim jiwoong #park gunwook #zb1 drabbbles #zb1 imagines #kim gyuvin #zb1 x reader #seok matthew #kpop imagines #whump #sickfic #sung hanbin fluff #zerobaseone #light angst #hurt/comfort

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redroomreflections · 1 month

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Gentle Hands Chapter Seven

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha suspects Reader is in an abusive relationship and tries to convince her to leave

7/10

W/c: 3k

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Warning: Domestic violence

So, having your parents around is turning out to be more stressful than you initially thought.

The constant presence of your parents, once a source of comfort and support, now feels like an overwhelming challenge. What started as a well-intentioned visit has transformed into a source of stress that you hadn't anticipated. Though you appreciate their presence and are genuinely grateful for their support, the timing couldn't be worse. Your emotions are a tangled mess, making it difficult to handle their well-meaning suggestions with the grace you would usually possess.

It's not just about the parenting decisions; it's the subtle tensions, the unsolicited critiques, and the constant feeling of being under a microscope that add to the stress. The clash of perspectives and the intrusion into your personal space create an atmosphere that you hadn't foreseen. What was supposed to be a joyful time with family has become a delicate balance between gratitude and the struggle to maintain your own sense of autonomy and decision-making.

Every parenting decision seems to be up for scrutiny. Why are you dressing Kaia this way? Why not try it a different way? What if we style her hair like this? Most of the comments come from your mother, which is a challenge in itself. You appreciate their presence, truly grateful that both of them are here, but the timing isn't quite right. If you weren't so emotionally tangled, you might handle her suggestions more gracefully.

That's why you're currently on the verge of asking them to leave your apartment—well, Natasha's suite. You're still at the tower, as you anticipated that inviting them over to Natasha's actual home would be a bit complicated. Natasha, being the polite person she is, allowed you to host them here.

This marks the longest period you've spent with your parents in years, and it's a bit overwhelming. Everywhere you step they’re there. Every question they have you answered. In some ways, you feel like a little girl again. It’s only giving you a taste of what could be if you were to move back home with them. Especially in this current situation.

Kaia is in the midst of a full-fledged tantrum because she can't have any more cheese puffs. Her little face is scrunched up, tears streaming down, as she vehemently protests the denial of her favorite snack. It’s not that you’re intentionally trying to be mean. It’s simply that you would like to not ruin her appetite when dinner is less than two hours away.

As Kaia's tantrum continues, she looks up at you with tearful eyes and pleads, "More, more, Mama."

You knelt, trying to reason with her, "Kaia, sweetheart, dinner is almost ready. You'll get more snacks later."

Kaia, not satisfied with the response, pointed at the cheese puffs sitting on the counter and exclaimed, "Cheese, cheese!"

Your mom jumps in with a shrug, "Come on, just a few more won't hurt."

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Natasha perched on the kitchen island, her keen eyes observing the unfolding exchange with a sense of quiet understanding. Her gaze moved between the family members, capturing the tension and unspoken emotions that hung in the air. There was something about the way she carried herself that suggested a genuine interest in the dynamics at play.

It struck you as peculiar that Natasha had consciously chosen to stick around while your parents were visiting. You couldn't quite decipher if she sensed the underlying stress in the atmosphere, but her presence felt like a silent anchor, offering a comforting reassurance.

“Mama!” Kaia demands with a stomp of her foot. This was a new thing for her.

You shook your head, "No, Kaia. You need to wait for dinner."

Kaia, frustrated, resorted to her limited vocabulary with more pleas, "Want! Want!"

Your dad, wisely staying out of the argument, observed the scene with a knowing smile.

"Here," your mother declares, taking the initiative to grab the container of cheese puffs and extend it toward Kaia. Your mouth dropped in disbelief, and you let out a scoff. This was unbelievable. Kaia, thrilled at the sudden turn of events, happily indulged in the snack, grabbing a handful and plopping down on the floor.

As your mother handed the cheese puffs to Kaia against your wishes, a mix of frustration and helplessness washed over you. You couldn't bring yourself to stand up to your parents, and tears welled up in your eyes. With a heavy heart, you turned away and left the room, the weight of the situation lingering in the air.

Upon entering the bedroom, your immediate response is to pace back and forth. The motion doesn't offer any comfort, but sitting is out of the question at the moment. Confrontation has never been your forte; standing up to people has always felt like a big challenge. The persistent meekness and shyness within you frustrate you, knowing that a firmer approach is needed with your parents, yet you find yourself unable to muster it. It's a feeling you despise.

As tears fall and you grapple with your internal struggle, you turn to find Natasha standing in the doorway. "Hey," she greets you with a reassuring expression, her perceptive eyes trying to discern the depth of your emotions. The sight of tears in your eyes prompts an immediate change in her demeanor. "Hey, tell me what's going on," she urges, her concern evident in her tone.

“Stupid hormones,” You sigh in frustration. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, a subtle skepticism crossing her features. "Hormones?" she questions her tone a mix of curiosity and doubt. Her gaze lingers on you as if trying to decipher whether there's more to the frustration you're expressing. Natasha, ever perceptive, senses that there might be deeper layers to the situation than a simple dismissal of it as hormonal.

She closes the bedroom door behind her, sensing that you need a little more time to go through your feelings.

“It’s more than that,” You swipe at your wet cheeks angrily. “I just can’t handle them being here. I can’t handle HER.” You confess with a lazy hand gesture towards the kitchen.

“I figured,” Natasha agrees. “Look if they’re stressing you out I can tell them to go. I can make up some excuse or something for you.”

“No, don’t do that,” You answer too quickly. “I mean, I can’t. They’re here for me and I don’t want to seem ungrateful. I just can’t believe she would undermine my authority like that. I’m Kaia’s mom. Keith would constantly do that and I hated it.”

Natasha nods empathetically, acknowledging your quick response. "I understand," she says gently. "It's not about being ungrateful. It's just frustrating when someone undermines your authority, especially in your own home.”

“It’s why I left home,” You confess quietly. “In the beginning. Keith and I were straight out of high school and we had dreams of moving to New York together. I wanted to get away from my parents. We never had big problems. I love them dearly and they’ve always been there for me. It’s just that Keith was refreshing. He was new. I could be myself with him.”

“And you don’t feel like that now?” Natasha inquiries. “That you can be yourself with your parents?”

“Not fully,” You shake your head. “It’s like nothing is ever good for her. There’s always more I could be doing. I know they’re being supportive. They have been nothing but supportive and I’ve missed them so much. I’m still an adult. I don’t need someone else in my life coming to tell me what to do anymore.”

“I think you should tell her that,” Natasha pushes. “Everything you’re telling me you should tell them. If they’re worthy parents they would understand where you’re coming from.”

“Yeah,” You nod. “In an ideal world. I think I’m still waiting for my mother to say I told you so.”

As you spoke, the bedroom door creaked open, and there stood your mother, who had come under the guise of checking on you. She entered with a small knock.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," She says tentatively.

You looked up, caught off guard, and a hint of vulnerability crossed your features. "No, Mama, come in."

"I heard bits of what you were saying, and I just wanted to make sure you're okay," she explains, her expression a mix of concern and understanding. The room filled with palpable tension as you and your mother stood on the brink of a conversation that had been a long time coming.

“Can we have the room?” You ask Natasha and she nods. She takes one last look at you before exiting.

"Mom," You begin tentatively, the weight of your emotions evident in your voice. She says “y/n” at exactly the same time.

Regina nods, encouraging you to express yourself. "You go first, baby," she offers, giving you the floor.

"I'm not sure what to say," You admit, sitting on the bed with a sense of dejection.

Regina gently takes a seat beside you, her eyes reflecting a mixture of understanding and concern. "How about you start by telling me how you feel?" she suggests, a motherly tone underscoring her words. “Don’t hold it in because you think it will make me angry.”

Taking a deep breath, you gather your thoughts. "It's just... having you and Dad here, it's different. I appreciate the support, I really do, but it feels like I'm not given room to be myself. Like nothing is ever good enough. I'm an adult, Mom. I've missed you both so much, but I need to navigate this on my own, too. It's overwhelming."

Regina listens attentively, her expression softening as she absorbs your words. There's a moment of silence as she processes your feelings, and then she reaches out, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

"I hear you, Y/n. I'm sorry if it seems like we're overstepping. We're just excited to be here for you," she responds sincerely. "But I understand that you're your own person now, and we need to find a balance. Tell me what you need from us, sweetheart."

“I just need you to be here,” You frown. “So much has happened over the past few years. I was in a toxic relationship where I had no one. Keith controlled everything. From the clothes I was allowed to wear to what I could do with Kaia. When you undermined my authority, several times over this weekend, I felt unheard. It feels like nothing has changed. I don’t know how to stand up to you. Or anyone really.” You shrug. “I don’t need another handler. I just need my parents.”

Regina looks at you with a mixture of regret and determination. "I'm sorry for making you feel that way, Y/n. I had no intention of bringing back those feelings of control and toxicity. I want to be here for you, and I don't want to add to your stress."

You can sense her sincerity, and it eases the tension in the room.

Regina continues, "Let's find a way to make this work. I want to support you without overstepping. Maybe we can establish some boundaries, so you feel more in control. I'm here to be your parent, not to control your life."

Her willingness to understand and adapt brings a sense of relief. You nod, appreciating her commitment to making things better. "I'd like that," you respond, a small smile forming. You sit silently. “Mama, I’m hurt.” You begin. “He hurt me. A lot. I’m not who I used to be. I’m not who I want to be.”

Regina's face softens with concern as she hears your vulnerable admission. She moves closer and gently places a comforting hand on your shoulder, offering a reassuring presence.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," Regina responds, her voice filled with empathy. "I hate that you've gone through this pain. But please know, you're not alone. We're here for you.”

“Thank you,” You whisper. “It’s not that you’re not allowed to spoil Kaia. I love that you want to. She needs more than just me in this life. I’m her mother but I know I can’t provide everything for her. I just need that control. I need to find my way back to myself. For her. For us.”

Regina squeezes your shoulder gently, conveying her support and acknowledgment of your feelings. "I understand, Y/n.”

“I still can’t believe he called you,” You shake your head. “After all this time. All these years. I spent them avoiding you. I spent them listening to him convince me that you didn’t want me back. For Kaia’s birth, I wanted you to be there. My first baby, I was so excited. She was so tiny and I was so scared. Pictures were the only way I could connect you with. I’m sorry for disappearing like that.”

Regina's expression softens as she absorbs your words. There's a mixture of understanding and sadness in her eyes. She places a comforting hand on your arm. For some reason, she can read you like a book. Though you so desperately want her hugs and comfort you still need space. She moves to hold your hand and you allow her. She replies, "Y/n, I can't imagine how difficult those years must have been for you. I never stopped wanting to be a part of your life. It breaks my heart that you felt you had to avoid me."

She takes a moment, letting the weight of your confession settle in, before continuing, "I appreciate your honesty, and I'm sorry if my absence made you feel abandoned. I would have loved to be there for Kaia's birth. I'm here now, though, and I want to be a part of both your lives moving forward. No need to apologize. We have time to make up for, and I'm grateful for the chance to do so."

“Even if I don’t want to move back home?” You avoid her gaze.

Regina takes a deep breath, understanding the complexity of your feelings. She gently lifts your chin, encouraging you to meet her gaze. She wipes away your tears. Damn hormones. "Even if you don't want to move back home, Y/n," she says sincerely. "I want you to be where you feel comfortable and happy. I missed you, but I don't want you to feel pressured. What matters most to me is that we rebuild our relationship, no matter where you choose to call home."

Regina wraps her arms around you, providing a warm and comforting embrace. "Thank you, Mama," you express with gratitude, leaning into her support. As you sniffle and whimper, she gently strokes your hair, offering a soothing presence.”I feel so broken.”

"I know, sweetheart," Regina whispers softly. "It's okay to feel broken. We'll take it one step at a time, and I'll be here to help you heal. You're not alone, and we'll get through this together."

As you share this tender moment with your mom, the quiet atmosphere is suddenly pierced by a soft yet insistent "Mama!" echoing down the hallway. You both turn in surprise and there, in her little pajamas, is Kaia toddling towards you with outstretched arms.

"Mama!" Kaia repeats with more urgency, her eyes searching for you. Regina smiles warmly and loosens her embrace, allowing you to respond to Kaia's call. The interruption brings a gentle reminder of the love that surrounds you, and you reach down to scoop up your daughter.

"Hi, baby bird," you murmur, snuggling into Kaia's neck. The familiar scent of your little one and the warmth of her embrace bring an immediate sense of comfort. Kaia giggles in response, her small hands reaching up to pat your back as if reciprocating the affection.

“You’re doing a wonderful job with her,” Your mother comments.

"Thank you, Mama," you say, looking at Regina with a small smile. The words carry a deep appreciation for the acknowledgment of your efforts as a parent. “I keep wondering if I’m doing the right thing for her. Keeping her away from her father. I know she misses him. She looks for him sometimes.”

Regina maintains a gentle gaze, understanding the complexity of your emotions. "It's not an easy situation, Y/n," she responds empathetically. "You're doing what you believe is best for Kaia, and that's what matters most. It's natural to question and worry, but you're a wonderful mother, and your decisions are made with her well-being in mind."

You look back toward Kaia to avoid crying again.

“You're creating a stable and loving environment for her, and that's invaluable,” She says.

“Natasha said that too,” You murmured.

“Natasha is a smart woman,” She comments. She hesitates for a second before saying. “She’s also a kind woman. Allowing you to stay here with her and everything.” There’s something suggestive about her tone and you pick up on it immediately. Your curiosity is piqued, and you meet her gaze, sensing there might be more to her words than meets the eye.

"Yeah, Natasha has been incredibly supportive," you respond cautiously, watching Regina for any further cues about what she might be alluding to. The air in the room holds a tinge of intrigue as you wait for her to elaborate on her subtle suggestion. “She’s a really good friend.”

There's a flicker of understanding in Regina's eyes, and you wonder if she's probing for more information or simply expressing curiosity about your relationship with Natasha.

The air in the room holds a subtle tension, and you're left with the anticipation of Regina's next words, waiting to see if she'll delve further into the topic or let it rest.

“I approve,” She says simply. You’re a bit surprised at that.

Regina's simple declaration catches you by surprise, and you raise an eyebrow, processing her words. "You approve?" you repeat, seeking clarification.

She nods with a small smile. "Yes, I do. Natasha seems like a good influence, and it's clear she cares about you and Kaia. Having a supportive friend is important, especially in times like these. I'm glad you have her," Regina adds, her approval carrying a sense of understanding and acceptance.

“Yeah, me too,” You nod.

---> next part

#natasha romanoff #black reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanov #black widow x female reader #natasha x you #natsxaddiction

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anthurak · 2 years

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Okay so obviously I want to talk about the final three lines of the trailer. Because assuming these are actually part of the same statement and haven’t been edited together for trailer-drama, this is both really interesting and REALLY unsettling.

You see, on it’s own the line “What if you could leave Ruby Rose behind? Shed like an old coat?” feels like typical villainous ‘leave your quest’ temptation. ie; “Being the Hero is just so HARD. Wouldn’t it be easier to just give up?” Or in this case; ‘abandon those qualities that make you the hero’. We’ve all seen it’s like before.

BUT then we get the following line “What might happen... if you don’t?” And this adds an entirely new dimension to the conversation. It adds so many implicit questions to the previous lines: “What might happen if you don’t shed your current self? What might happen if you continue on as you are now? What might happen if you don’t change who you are?”

And taken in conjunction with what we’ve seen of Ruby character arc, this changes EVERYTHING. At this point, I think we can all agree that Ruby’s character arc will serve as a critique of her staunch, overriding sense of heroism and force her to reckon with where it is actually leader her. That for the past three volumes, Ruby’s staunch heroic ideals have led her barreling down a path to self-destruction.

Which all means that this line of dialogue might NOT actually be some villainous temptation, but rather a character driving Ruby to question WHO she really is and just WHERE she is headed. That this character speaking actually has a point.

That Ruby actually DOES need to change.

Which frankly, feels all too fitting for a character who’s semblance allows her to deconstruct and reconstruct herself as a molecular level...

#rwby #rwby spoiler #rwby volume 9 #rwby ramblings #rwby theory #rwby analysis #Ruby Rose #in which ruby undergoes a metaphorical and LITERAL transformation...

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ooihcnoiwlerh · 2 months

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Good evening, my Darlings! I'm sorry about the lapse between updates, but I have a new chapter up on AO3 with the full fic and full content warnings and will have the newest chapter chapter down below.

Chapter Summary: The Reader tries to understand the Harkonnens and gain favor with her husband the old-fashioned way (Part Two.)

Tagged: @alexandrainlove @richardslady121 @blazeflays @wo-ming-bai @cavillandevanssandwhich If anyone else would like to be tagged, please let me know!

Content Warning: 18+; problematic smut; arranged marriage; dubious consent; implied/referenced child abuse; under negotiated kink; problematic BDSM; internalized shame; mild degradation; oral sex (m+f receiving) throat training, come eating, collars and lashes, nipple clamps/nipple play; Feyd-Rautha; impact play/slapping; semi-public sex; vaginal sex; vaginal fingering; knife play; switching; riding; Feyd's strange and fucked up methods of showing affection

Chapter Nine: Quick to Learn, Eager to Please

Your training continues. You wouldn’t call your progress astonishing, but after a week, and then two, you find yourself first sliding into the familiarity of your old training and then picking up on new techniques. You can’t help but smile to yourself when you get in an offensive, notice an opening that you can take that you wouldn’t have just a week earlier. When Feyd-Rautha says, as he watches you spar with Korvo, “You remembered what I told you about your footwork.”

His own regimen is far more extensive, of course. There’s one morning when he strips off his sweaty training shirt and you notice striations in the muscle fibers in his chest that you don’t remember seeing before. Perhaps it’s the brighter lighting compared to your bedrooms.

The soreness becomes normal, stiffness you stretch out every morning before you leave for the Training Halls and soothe in the afternoons a couple of times a week in the Relaxation Chambers before resuming your self-imposed Harkonnen language lessons. The routine is its own comfort that tides you over as you receive letters from back home that all sound relieved that you’re still in one piece. And, somehow, you are. These elements–the training, the moments spent in the library and studying the Harkonnen battle language–make you feel a little more like this Fortress is a home that you can live in. You’re not confident enough to try and impress Feyd yet with what you’ve learned but have found that Idrisa’s an easy tutor. The first time you tried speaking, unprompted, in battle language to her she did an almost comical double-take before politely offering advice on how to improve your pronunciation.

“The Na-Baron will be delighted to know that you’re making an effort to learn more about his culture,” she added to soften any potential blow to your ego. Since then, every day, you exchange basic greetings and sentences in Harkonnen with her, and each day you try to add a little more. Idrisa’s gentle, but honest once she realizes that you won’t be offended by her critique.

The matter of your pregnancy is still in question–it’s still too early to tell, not for lack of trying. The collar and leash make a reappearance–on a night he also placed metal clamps on your nipples and took your mouth again until between the shock of the clamps barely fading with time and the suffocating pressure of his cock venturing further and further within the wet cavern of your mouth had tears streaming down your face and silent pleas for him to finally fuck you–but strangely enough the flogger, as he calls it, hasn’t. When he strikes your backside he seems to prefer his own hands, maybe because for every time his hand descends it stings his palm as well. Sometimes he brings out ropes, one night ties your arms behind your back and takes you from behind, one hand in your hair until he comes hard and pulls out only to bury his face against your backside and lick your cunt, tasting his own spend as it leaks out of you until you shudder and climax around the flicker of his tongue. You’re past the point of being shocked by the idea of your husband tasting his own semen; it’s funny to think that such a thing would’ve horrified you a few weeks ago. Most of this probably would.

The night that he introduces the clamps you use his bathroom afterwards, see your splotchy face and worn body, and wonder how much of your enjoyment is genuine and how much is simply a tool to acclimate to it. Does it really make a difference? The pain from the clamps had gone from sharp pain to an insistent ache that left you trembling. The way he’d held your head in place as he’d guided his cock into your mouth and kept it there, pulling out only long enough to let you breathe and pushing back in for longer increments until you felt almost light-headed. Does it really matter how or why it made you sufficiently wet to take him inside of you? Is it not just easier to accept it than to dwell on the accompanying shame of it?

So far, you’ve realized, he hasn’t asked you to hurt him beyond scratching his back and arms when he’s inside of you, or biting down on the meat of his shoulder until you break skin. Hasn’t asked you to subjugate him with the silver collar and chain he keeps, always noticeable but never mentioned after that night. Perhaps he’s waiting for the right time, the right sign that you’d be able to hurt him as deliciously as he does you.

You think of the silver collar and how it would look against his pale skin as he waits patiently for instruction, like a fierce but loyal guard dog.

The image of it makes something you can’t quite name unfurl like black smoke in the pit of your stomach.

Between training you to fight and training you to take his cock in a variety of positions, Feyd gives ample reason for you to enjoy the soothing attention you get in the Relaxation Chambers.

Once, when you enter the chambers, you see another woman walking by you; she’s well-dressed, clearly the wife of a high-ranking member of Harkonnen militia, and you speak before you can stop yourself.

“Hello,” you tell her, and she stops, blinking in confusion. You’re starting to get better at gauging peoples’ ages around here without hair or eyebrows, and you guess her to be in her early thirties, with a round face and hazel eyes.

She stands, awkwardly, clearly wondering why you’ve just spoken to her, before inclining her head. “Good afternoon, Na-Baroness.”

“My apologies. I don’t think I’ve learned your name yet,” you tell her, extending your hand.

She takes it in a gentle shake. “Indeed you have not, Na-Baroness. It’s Liana Druganin, wife of Piter Druganin,” she says, managing to keep a polite tone before she drops your hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Druganin,” you tell her with a small smile.

She reciprocates and it looks as manufactured as the fake wood paneling.

You’ve seen this before, but until now have been spared actually experiencing it: that moment when an attempt at friendship is made and the recipient can only think, Why are you talking to me? Go away . She won’t say it, not in a thousand years, because you outrank her. But the look on her face, almost bordering on panic at the idea that you’ll keep trying to talk to her, says it all.

You clench your jaw, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. “Well,” you say, “Have a lovely afternoon, Lady Druganin.” You both know that it’s not true, and that it’s also not true when she replies with a feeble echo of your sentiments.

She turns to go with a polite bow of her head and a stiffness in her shoulders that hadn’t been there before you spoke to her. You watch after her and for a moment, she starts to turn around before thinking better of it.

You try to stay resolute. No matter , you tell yourself. They will start by respecting me. They don’t have to like me yet . My children will play with their children and I will be their Baroness. They’ll learn.

Still, the sting of it is enough that you have to look over a letter a friend sent you to remind you that you’re perfectly capable of making them.

You write another. There’s a growing pile of letters that you keep in a desk drawer and in moments like these pull them out and re-read them and remember that even if they’re not here, there are still people who love you.

Feyd’s birthday is almost here–in a week the Bene Gesserit will visit and Feyd will execute prisoners in the arena under the guise of sport. There will be hours of celebrating afterwards with more flash than the solemnity of a Harkonnen wedding. You want to ask if there will be dancing, because there wasn’t at your wedding. You’re not sure what Harkonnen dancing would even look like. Or music, beyond ceremonial war chants. The party afterwards will also be the first time you’re properly presented to the Fortress as the Na-Baron.

Not that you’ll be expected to make any speeches or hold anyone’s attention, but a dress is being made for you to commemorate the occasion and you’ll represent not a person but an idea, a symbol. This is the part of marriage you’ve been preparing for most of your life. When you were younger your mother was honest about what marriage would look like for you; that your husband would probably be someone you didn’t know very well or perhaps not at all until the wedding, and that it would be your duty to represent the best qualities of your House and, if your groom was from a different House, his as well. That for you, marriage would be about politics first and that love would come eventually as you got acclimated to your new husband and the role you’d be playing, and even then that it might not be a passionate or easy kind of love.

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen isn’t a creature compatible with something like love. You were almost surprised that there’s a word for it in his language. You’re not sure if you could ever grow to love him, or he you. You’re not sure if it’s an emotion he’s capable of feeling or if the strangely companionable routine you’ve developed with him is the best you’re going to get.

Your children, though, you’re certain you’ll love, even if they’re raised to be cold, even as they’ll never quite look like you, and you’ll teach them how to express it. You’ll make sure that no matter how strict and unforgiving their father will bring them up that they’ll always have you.

In a letter addressed only to your mother you ask her what you can barely form in your own mind and couldn’t possibly ask anyone else here. You ask her how early she was able to tell, because you can’t. You must be, or else something’s very wrong, but you haven’t had a moment after he’s finished inside of you that you felt life growing there. You don’t feel different yet, and certainly don’t look different. When do you feel a tithe to them? You look at your stomach in the mirror as if expecting it to swell already and wonder if the rush of maternal love will come once you can confirm it or if it happens once you have the baby. There’s no shortage of information on the physical aspects of pregnancy but nothing on that. The closer it gets to the Bene Gesserit’s visit the more real all this becomes: you’re going to be a mother, on a brutal and unforgiving planet that you’re constantly torn between assimilating into and rejecting to maintain your own sense of self. You’re going to need all the help you can get.

There’s another shift, four days before Feyd-Rautha’s birthday.

It starts out as a normal training session, with Feyd putting you through close range maneuver drills.

While the rest of the Fortress is busy preparing for his birthday celebrations, he seems somewhat detached. You’d assumed he’d be more excited at the chance to kill more prisoners in front of an adoring crowd; he’d seemed like he was having a decent enough time killing drugged men for Geidi Prime’s entertainment before the wedding. This, however, he treats like an obligation that he discusses only in the most pragmatic terms and as part of his responsibilities as Na-Baron. You’re not entirely sure why, or what if any moral quandary he might have now that he didn’t nearly a month ago. But you decide that your grasp of Harkonnen pronunciation has improved enough that you can give him an early birthday present and surprise him with your efforts so far.

It’s while you separate long enough to take a minute-long break that you decide that now is as good a time as any. You take a breath and remember how Idrisa taught you to say the words before offering him a friendly smile and throwing out the words in imperfect but improved Harkonnen.

“ Do you know what you want for your birthday, Husband? ”

He blinks, taken aback for the sweetest of moments before tilting his head and giving you a small smile as if to say, Huh. How about that. Like you’re a dog that’s performed an amusing trick. It would feel embarrassing were it not for that he could have had a much worse reaction.

He responds in kind, with what you can only partially interpret as “ Yes, wife, and I ….” something garbled or a phrase you haven’t learned yet, “ what is mine .”

Well. Tone and implications count for a lot. You might not understand the wording exactly, but you think you get the general picture he’s painting for you as you feel yourself blush. He circles around you and adds, speaking faster than the instructions you’re used to hearing and a few words are indecipherable, “ I’ll eghl as my wife, lawswh you off to all of Geidi Prime .”

Before you have time to respond he locks you into position, his front to your back and his blade against your throat. “ To zxncoh to my people that you took my seed and you’re sadghl my heir .”

Other people can hear, you think, scandalized. Maybe not all that well, he’s not speaking loudly, and other people are focused on their own training but still…

His cock is hard and flushed against the small of your back. Your head is spinning. He inhales sharply, as if he can smell the growing wetness between your legs. He withdraws his blade, holsters it in his scabbard, and turns off his shield. On instinct, you turn off yours. There’s a couple of seconds you’re both still, and he opens his mouth, nuzzles your hair. And then…

“Everyone out!” he calls out, the gravel of his rasp not suited for yelling, but he manages all the same. A servant opens the door and everyone files out without a word in less than a minute, and then the door slams shut.

He turns you around in his arms and kisses you hard.

He’d talked about doing this the first day he trained you. It’s really a testament to his self-restraint that he’s waited this long to do it, you think as he backs you into the wall and braces one forearm beside your head. His other hand sneaks into the waist of your pants and beneath your undergarment.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and gasp into it as he brings his fingertips over your bud and circles lightly, at first anyway. One fingertip slides along the slit of you, feeling for your growing wetness as he rests his lips against your hairline. You feel him break into a self-satisfied grin as he says, “I think you can handle two, don’t you, pet?” and slips his middle and index fingers in without waiting for you to respond. You try to tamp down on your whimpers, the way the echoes of the room amplify every sound, including the slick wet noises of his fingers twisting and pumping inside of you, finally crooking forward the way you like. It’s hardly fair of him to use that against you.

Oh, Great Mother, they’ve probably got their ears pressed up against the door, listening in, hearing everything—

–And then he slides in a third finger and crooks them again.

You buck your hips, the wind knocked out of you in a silent scream.

“You like that?” Feyd asks, his voice in your ear.

You know I do. For fuck’s sake, Feyd, just do it again. You let out a desperate whine, biting your lip as you nod and he rubs you down again, feeling you shake around him. You feel searingly hot, knowing your face is flushed, knowing that everyone outside knows what the two of you are doing.

You made this choice weeks ago. You made this choice over a month ago when the Reverend Mother told you who you were to marry.

You still his hand, giving a small nod as if to say, I’m ready, and he withdraws, tilting his head and waiting. You hardly take a breath before you turn and descend to your knees, pulling your pants and smallclothes down your thighs and spreading your legs as far as you reasonably can before bracing your hands against the wall. Your breath is already ragged. You rest your forehead in between your hands.

“ Fuck me, husband ,” you manage in Harkonnen.

Feyd huffs a laugh and settles down behind you. The sound of him unfastening the front of his pants is shockingly loud within the cavernous expanse of the room, and even as you’d wanted to hold back on your noises he punctures them out of you with each thrust.

You’ll forgive yourself this indignity. You’re doing it for a greater purpose , you tell yourself.

And then Feyd thrusts at just the right angle that has you letting out a strangled moan, shaking around him, barely able to hold onto the wall in front of you before he brings a hand between your legs.

“That’s it, pet,” he murmurs in your ear. “Don’t hold back. Make all the pretty noises you can,” he says and brings his fingers back to your bud. You cry out, tears pricking up at the corners of your eyes and you’re not entirely sure from what, clenching hard as he uses the pressure around him to power through, pulling you onto him as he growls and snarls and fills you to the brim.

You tremble through it all, shutting your eyes. A few months ago you would never have pictured yourself doing this, letting a man fuck you from behind while over a dozen people in a hallway mere meters away could hear, and certainly would never have pictured coming from it. A few months ago you would never have pictured marrying a Harkonnen.

Afterwards, he holds himself to your back, giving one last soft thrust before pulling out. You yank your smallclothes and pants up as fast as possible to avoid any kind of spill, wincing at the mess of fluids smeared between you and the gusset.

“Is it always messy like this?” you ask as Feyd tucks himself back in and rises to stand.

“If you’re doing it right,” he says, offering a hand to guide you up.

Once he has you he cups your chin with his hand that had fondled you under your smallclothes. You know immediately what he’s about to do and open your mouth, allowing him access as he slips his fingers inside.

“Clever thing, aren’t you?” Feyd says, watching his fingers go in, watching your eyes as he pushes them until they reach your soft palate and you just barely manage not to gag at the taste and scent of your own juices on his fingertips, the brush of his fingertips pressed too far in for comfort. He withdraws them as he says, “Quick to learn, eager to please.”

You shut your eyes, exhaling shakily as you lower your head. You can’t name the twisted combination of shame and pride at his condescending praise.

He cradles your face again. “None of that, now. Look at me, pet,” he says. And when you do, swallowing around nothing, jaw clenched, he looks at your face, studying the look in your eyes as if he can understand what you’re feeling better than you can.

He kisses you again, bruising, searing, burying his other hand in your hair. He gives you a moment to catch your breath when he releases you, and then looks at the door. His eyes flicker between you and it for a moment before he strides towards it to let everyone back inside.

“I would never have done what we just did for anyone other than you,” you call after him before he can get there, before you can stop yourself. “ Never .”

He stops and looks at you. “I believe you believe that, Y/N,” he says. “You were the first virgin I think I’ve ever been with.”

You furrow your brow. “Really?” you ask, his response briefly taking you out of the embarrassed pit you’d started digging for yourself. You’d sort of assumed that he’d had a history of deflowering frightened young women. Sort of assumed that it was one of his Na-Baronly duties.

He gives a mono-syllabic grunt in the affirmative before opening the door.

You don’t envy everyone shuffling in, avoiding looking at either of you directly as they offer quick honorifics and resume their training.

You’re too shaken to be of much use for the rest of your session, not to Feyd’s surprise.

“Let’s call it a morning, Y/N. Go to your quarters, take a shower. I’ll see you at breakfast,” he says, and you’re biting down on a sarcastic, why thank you, Na-Baron. The squelch of your come leaking out of me is a bit distracting. I appreciate you noticing , when he leans in and gives you a brief kiss on the mouth.

You blink in surprise. He seldom kisses you when there are other people around, and certainly not in front of his soldiers while he’s training. You hesitate before returning it.

“ Thank you, husband ,” you tell him in Harkonnen as you pull away. The curve of his mouth twitches in what you hope is a smile.

You’re certain after that you’ve gotten a good amount of leverage, as much as you’re probably going to get until you become a mother, but what then?

You can learn to live with Feyd as the father of your children, with him being the formative authority figure in their lives. You’ll never try to convince yourself that deep down he’s a kind and decent man, but you’ve noticed that he has his own, albeit twisted, set of moral standards. It’s the idea of the Baron being in their lives at all that worries you. You can’t imagine any way in which his presence could be a good thing, especially for any sons you’ll have–and surely Feyd must know this?

A thought forms and grows even as you try to shut it out. It’s impossible, you tell yourself, and still you can’t help but wonder.

At dinnertime the following evening your grip tightens on your fork as at the head of the table the Baron eats roasted bird down to the bone and you wonder how fragile his own must be after what must be years now of not being able to move on his own.

There’s not a chance that you’d be able to get rid of him personally. You’d be killed long before such an attempt could come to fruition. But you’ve read a bit about Harkonnen history, and Barons have been usurped before, ones in declining health replaced by those who’d go on to prove more capable and more ruthless than their predecessors. Feyd knows his own history far better than you do, he’s read about this.

He tried to kill his uncle once. What’s stopping him now that he’s entering the very prime of his life? When he has a wife and, soon, children to think about? When the Baron’s over seventy and hasn’t been able to walk on his own in years?

Can he be convinced?

You keep your head down, glad that no one here can read your mind, glad that the Baron only seems to pay attention to you if he seems to be wondering if it’s too early for you to start showing.

I’ll spare you the suspense: it is, you’d tell him if you had the nerve.

That night Feyd comes to your room and takes you and there’s a moment between when he finishes and when he decides to sleep in his own quarters that you think about suggesting it to him.

The people respect and fear you . It’s your time. You’re ready.

You have a duty to Geidi Prime and the Bene Gesserit and me to keep our children safe and there’s no guarantee of that unless you get rid of the Baron.

In the end you can’t bring yourself to say it. Not yet.

You wake up to the feeling of a body behind you and cold steel against your throat, and it takes you less than a second to realize that you’re not dreaming, and the person shifting in behind you and bringing both arms around you is very much real.

You let out one scream, to alert any guards nearby, but nothing else to waste your precious breath as you reach for the forearm leading to the hand that’s holding the knife and jerk one shoulder up as hard as you can, trying to dislodge him.

This is so much easier standing up than laying on your side, you realize with immediate clarity, having never felt more awake in your life as you try to duck your head in the scant gap that you’ve made, grabbing his wrist and struggling as he refuses to give you enough space to properly move.

You still manage to keep your hand on his forearm, ducking just enough to squirm out of his arms and plunge his knife into his ribs and then…

The knife hums but doesn’t pierce his skin.

He has his shield activated , you realize, panic setting in, eyes trying to adjust to the dark. If I can evade him just long enough to get his shield off then maybe–

You bite down on the man’s other arm, hard, breaking the skin and drawing a moan out of the man behind you that you don’t have time to recognize sounds familiar– you just need to get on top of him, get the upper hand –and duck under his arm long enough to turn and swing one leg over the man’s waist and pin him on his back to your bed, finally wrenching the knife out of his hand as you point it as his chest and…

You stare, panting and stunned. It hadn’t occurred to you to question how someone could get into your chambers, hadn’t registered that your assailant was wearing pants but no shirt. All you could think about was the knife at your throat.

Pinned underneath you is your husband. He fixes you with a smile, looking utterly pleased with himself.

“You’re improving; that’s good,” he says.

You nearly drop your knife, barely having the mind to set it on the bed next to Feyd’s shoulder, realizing that you’re sitting directly on top of his stiffening groin. Feyd turns off his shield device before propping himself up on his forearms.

“I had to make sure that you were prepared. If you’re ever ambushed it won’t be in a training room with a warning,” he says. He ignores your ragged breaths and stunned expression quickly turning to anger.

You slap him as hard as you can. The cracking sound could deafen you; pain shoots down your wrist from the impact.

What the fuck?! I was terrified! you almost say before he sits all the way up and pulls you into a ferocious kiss. You give back as good as you receive, almost snarling into it, gripping the back of his neck, before pulling away for breath.

“I’m fucking furious with you,” you tell him.

“Good,” he says, and pulls you into another kiss. He gives a quiet moan at the taste of his blood in your mouth, staining your teeth, and licks it off of you. He draws an arm across your naked back and buries his other hand in your hair. Anger turns to adrenaline turns to arousal that has you panting against his mouth before something occurs to you.

“Wait, what happened to–” there are always a couple of armed guards at each end of the expansive hallway. They would’ve been able to hear your screaming.

“I told the guards that I was conducting a drill and that if they interfered that I’d feed them alive and screaming to my Darlings,” he says.

You’re deranged , you think, and reach for his pants with only one goal in mind, and for a moment you picture him flipping the two of you over, fucking you into the mattress like he does every night and sometimes in the mornings, reducing you to mewls and whimpers.

No.

This time he can be the one who gets fucked, that follows the rhythm of your hips. You’ve only come close to that kind of leverage once before but if he wants to be inside of you tonight this is what he’s going to get.

You grab the dagger left on the sheets and press it to his collarbone.

“You nearly killed me,” you tell him. “I’ll take what I want from you.”

He grins at you with his black teeth and gums. “I was only trying to make you think I would kill you, but you did well, so you can take whatever you want.”

You exhale through your nostrils. Think I’m bluffing? you want to ask as the tip of the blade just barely pierces his alabaster skin. An image flashes like lightning in your mind and grows like the clap of thunder–him prone underneath you, laying back and taking everything you give him. Your mouth falls open at the idea and shuts again as you push at his chest, watching as he goes down.

Something flashes in those blue eyes of his as he has just enough reach to turn on the light and you relax the blade just enough to let him do it, let him give you a good look at him.

“Go on,” he says. “Take your reward.”

You huff an-almost laugh, stunned, delighted. You think of him collared but quickly dismiss the notion. Next time. You’re too impatient to leave the room. You look down at Feyd, pliant and waiting beneath you, and press the tip of the knife just barely against his skin. “Help me get your pants off,” you tell him as you raise your hips enough to give him access.

His eyes blaze as he does as he’s told, raising his hips to push them down his legs, kicking a little to get them further down. Do they come all the way off? Probably not. You don’t care. His cock stands at attention, and you relinquish the knife in order to brace a hand on his stomach, your other hand positioning him at your entrance. Feyd’s hands in turn cup your hips. It takes some finessing, moving on top of him; it’s not a position you’ve explored much before but you’re slick enough that it’s effortless to line him up against you and slide down onto him.

“You wanna ride me?” he says as you rock your hips for the first time and a moan spills from your lips. He feels so good, you think, almost dazed, mouth falling open.

“Is that what this is called?” you ask, resting your hands on his chest, taking the opportunity to squeeze and grope whatever you can find.

Feyd lets out a breathless laugh, sliding his own hands over your hips, bringing one up further to squeeze one of your breasts in turn. “Among other things,” he says.

You almost laugh as well; this way it’s almost like his body’s a fun toy you can use to amuse and please yourself. You have better access to the rest of him this way, and he you. He’s never really let you touch him like this, and you wonder–he doesn’t have breasts, but would he still like it if you touched his nipples? You rock your hips, still getting a feel for the rise and fall, the drag of it, as you circle your thumb around one of them before pinching the bud between it and your forefinger. For a moment you expect him to snap at you, grab your wrist and growl a warning at you, but he twitches and gasps and you repeat the gesture.

Your breath hitches and you can’t help but smile for a moment, delighted at the new information you have on this man, the vulnerability of him under you. Would he, under the right circumstances, allow the clamps he’s used only once on you? You bring one hand to his bare thigh as you try out different movements and speeds, oscillating between a rolling grind, bouncing up and down, a combination of both as the friction from this position is a unique thrill that builds the heat within you just as fast as the drag of him inside of you.

He brings one hand to your neck, thumb to your pulse point, and gives a light squeeze. You just bear down and ride him harder as if to say, You think that scares me? I know you, husband. You’ve hurt a lot of people and you’re going to hurt more, but not me. Not in a way that I can’t handle and come back from.

The clarity of it is almost shocking, but you know in your heart that it’s true; even tonight is his own perverse kind of fondness.

What a strange fucking husband, what a strange fucking marriage you have, that minutes after you thought you were about to be killed you feel safer than you have with him so far.

Your orgasm rips through you faster than you’ve ever managed with him inside of you, has you crying out as you shut your eyes and throw your head back, stomach and thighs clenching and every nerve on fire. For a moment everything’s red and everything’s hot and you feel like you’ve just incinerated yourself, and then you come to, mouth open and hips still jerking in short thrusts on top of him and all you can see are Feyd’s pupils blown wide as he stares up at you.

There’s a moment you realize that you could deprive him of an orgasm. One of the first nights you were together, the moment it seemed like you were about to come, he’d smugly withheld it from you. Now that you’ve gotten yours, you could stop, climb off of him, and tell him he can finish himself off. Right now he seems dazed, mouth open, his grip on your throat more of a loose hold. For a moment you picture the lost look on his face if you do it.

That moment breezes by, and you start rocking onto him again, panting and moaning as you scratch down his chest, your nails catching onto his nipples, making him buck his hips and moan, the movements jostling your insides. He’s close–and somehow, you’re building again with your frayed nerves, but you’re going to need his help to bring you over with him.

Well, maybe not need. But you’re going to tell him anyway.

It takes you a few tries, mouth open, trying to form the words, before you say, “Touch me,” and you’re pretty proud of how it comes across as an instruction rather than a plea.

In turn it takes him a moment to register your orders before sliding his hand to your neck down to one of your breasts, squeezing and fondling one and then the other, and finally, mercifully sliding his other hand from your hip and resting it high up on your thigh, rubbing his thumb along your apex.

“That’s it,” you manage, closing your eyes, gritting your teeth at how frustratingly close you are while still so sensitive, so determined to make it over the edge before he does. He’s panting underneath you, his heart pounding, sweat dampening his chest and his thigh and he shifts his legs and–oh. Oh . That’s it. You don’t register your own moans and cries as you shut your eyes against it, feeling him coming inside of you, hearing a guttural moan ripped out of his chest as he arches his hips up into you and for a moment you feel like everything’s shattering, everything bursting into air. After a moment you still your hips, taking in shuddering breaths, waiting to come back to yourself.

You open your eyes again and look down at Feyd, who looks at you like he’s never looked at you before and you realize this is what it’s like for someone to be in awe of you. It’s a powerful feeling, especially from him.

You kept this away from me for nearly a month? you want to ask. You let out a laugh. You’re soaring. You’re delirious. You want to go again even as you tremble.

Feyd ends up talking first. “Now what, pet?” he says, running his hands over your shaking thighs. “Anything you want.”

You catch your breath. He’s still under you, still subdued and tamed–for now. You lean forward, bracing your forearms on either side of him, enjoying the shift of the angle of him inside of you even when softened. He gives a slight hiss as you roll your hips once for good measure.

“I want to keep you inside of me until you get hard again, and then I want to ride you again until I can’t anymore,” you tell him.

You haven’t seen him drunk but you can imagine that it looks a little like this, the way his head rolls to the side and he grins, still looking dazed and bedazzled. You can hardly blame him; you feel almost out of your own body as well.

I have you. I have you. I have you.

#feyd rautha #feyd rauth harkonnen #feyd x reader #feyd smut #feyd rautha smut #feyd x you #dune part two #dune part 2 #feyd rautha imagine

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