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dearaceofhearts · 2 days

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you walk out after an argument

characters: husk, alastor, angel dust, vox, lucifer word count: 2.9k genre: angst to fluff summary: after an argument with them, you walk out and don't come back for a few days. how do they react? author's note: hello yes this is my first time actually posting something. erm, i think i wrote too much (sorry) but hey we roll with it!! also dude i accidentally posted this before it was ready twice and i had a heart attack oh my god. anyways i don't think vox's is really fluff (oops) but everyone else's is

♡ husk

when you slam the door shut on your way out, husk lets out a low grumble, setting down the glass he was cleaning onto the bar counter with a quiet sigh. it was one of the first arguments you'd had in a long time. although he wasn't usually one to get riled up so easily, the two of you knew each other well enough to know just what buttons to push to get under the other's skin. that, alongside him already having a bad day, had been a recipe for disaster.

in the few days that pass by, it's hard to tell just how affected he is by your absence since he does a pretty good job of keeping a cool facade. to anyone looking, he wouldn't appear any different than usual, just idly cleaning bottles as he always does.

but it's the small things that give away just how much husk cares and worries for you, like how his eyes flicker towards the door whenever someone comes in, his ears perking up slightly. he hates the twinge of disappointment that follows when it's not you, a slight scowl curling at his lips as he takes a swig of alcohol from one of the many bottles on the shelves of the bar. he misses talking to you. you're his favourite drinking buddy, after all.

his gaze always seems to wander back to the front door of the hotel, lingering for just a little too long before he eventually turns back to the bar, expression settling back into its usual grouchiness. but underneath that lies a hint of worry that gnaws at him in the back of his mind, even though he knows you're more than capable of handling yourself. at the end of the day, you can never be too careful in hell.

husk won't force you to come back, but he just wants to know that you're safe and sound. he trusts that you'll come back when you're ready so that the two of you can talk it over and hopefully resolve things. he doesn't want to leave it like this, and he's sure you don't either. you mean a lot more to him than he'd like to admit.

when you decide to finally return to the hotel, he pauses upon catching sight of you stepping through the doorway. he can't help the small wave of relief that washes over him, though you wouldn't be able to tell by the way he smoothly resumes restocking the bar. when you approach the counter, he looks up, giving you a short nod. "hey." he greets you, tone surprisingly softer than you're used to, "you're back."

husk's not really the type to beat around the bush, so he'd likely address the argument pretty quickly. he's also not particularly one for verbal apologies, so he'd probably be more willing to show it through his actions. you see it in the way he lets you cling to him a little longer than he normally does, leaning into him as he wordlessly holds you, his tail loosely curling around your leg. if you listen closely, you can hear some faint purring, too. it makes you smile slightly.

"alright, 'nuff of this sappy stuff." husk grumbles after a few more moments, patting your back gently before pulling back. "i'd kill for a drink right now. care to join me?" he raises a brow, a familiar glint in his eyes as he slides back behind the counter, already moving to make what he knows is your favourite drink.

you grin as you meet his eyes, expression softening. "of course. i'd love nothing more."

♡ alastor

"you're not listening, al." you murmur, exhaling quietly. this makes him pause for a moment, head tilted. your voice sounds different to what he's used to — you're not even angry, no — you just sound... tired. the argument had been going on for a while, and neither of you were getting through to the other.

when you move to leave, he makes no move to stop you, simply watching you with an intent gaze. his voice rings out clear as day in the empty silence. "where do you think you're going, my dear?"

he falters ever so slightly when you turn back to face him with a sturdy, stern gaze, responding with a flatly spoken "out", leaving no room for anything more to be said before closing the door behind you with a quiet click.

alastor won't chase after you, because he expects that you'll come back to him of your own accord. to him, it's basically guaranteed how this'll play out. he's used to demons falling right into his hands without having to exert much effort on his end, and believes that this would be no different.

so when a few days pass by with you not approaching him at all, he finds himself slightly irritated and mildly perplexed, eyes narrowed as his clawed finger taps against his cane with idle impatience. why haven't you sought him out yet?

he's seen you around the hotel, but you've never once acknowledged his presence even if the two of you were in the same room, breezing past him while he's left staring, watching you converse with everyone except him. his eye twitches in irritation, the perpetual smile on his lips strained.

...eventually, after playing a long waiting game to no avail, he decides that perhaps rosie would be able to offer some helpful advice on how to approach this situation, since he's not used to actually handling delicate emotional matters without the— well, the manipulation and deal-making.

one of the main issues is his massive ego. it's that unfaltering pride that gets in the way of him apologising. he may be the radio demon, but all that power can't help him here. and he'd never openly admit to such, but he truly is at somewhat of a loss here. he's already tried most things that he's sure would usually make you forgive him, though for a reason unbeknownst to him, it's not working this time.

"oh alastor," rosie shakes her head with a small huff, "a lady's heart is to be treated with care." she lends some further words of wisdom and encouragement that he listens to with great attentiveness, since he does (begrudgingly) enjoy your company, and it would be a shame if it was lost over such a, in his eyes, trivial matter.

upon his return to the hotel, he manages to get you to sit down with him (after much polite pestering and insistence) to have a chat over some tea. when all is said and done, the two of you sit in a comfortable silence. you sip your tea, watching the blazing fires of hell from the balcony.

"refill?" alastor offers, glancing at you briefly through a sip of his own tea.

"much appreciated." you hum, legs crossed as you throw him a small, slack smile.

♡ angel dust

his frustration slowly fizzles out as the door closes behind you, and the guilt slowly starts to creep in. he knows he shouldn't have said what he did, and he wants nothing more than to apologise and make it up to you — but he understands that it's probably better to give you some time to cool off before trying to approach you again.

despite the argument and the harsh words exchanged between you, the fact that he cares for you with his whole heart will never change, and he hopes you know that too.

while you're away, angel always finds his thoughts drifting to you, wondering how you're doing. are you eating okay? are you drinking enough? sleeping enough? with a shake of his head and a small sigh, he tries his best to return his focus back to the task at hand, whatever it may be.

he knows you can take care of yourself perfectly fine, but he just... misses you. the guilt eats away at him when he's reminded of the look on your face when you left, the brief glimmer of hurt in your eyes before you masked it with anger and tore your gaze away.

one particular night, angel heads over to your room in the hotel out of habit, not really thinking about it when he raises a fist to knock on the door. he had been hoping to spend some time with you, since today had been a particularly rough day for him. he's also been craving for one of your sleepover nights for a while, those nights where you two would stay up to talk about anything and everything until dawn rises. those times were comforting for him — a rare moment of respite in his life.

but then he stops abruptly, remembering that you're not there. he lets his hand fall back to his side, expression quietly downcast. he stands alone in the silent, empty hallway. has it always been this cold?

after a few days, he's just about damn ready to go looking for you, making his way down the stairs as he prepares to head out. he's so focused that he almost misses the sight of you seemingly casually sitting at the bar, nursing a drink in your hands whilst exchanging low murmurs with husk.

he freezes momentarily, taking a deep breath. while he mentally debates with himself whether to approach you or not, husk notices him hesitating on the staircase. he catches angel's gaze, giving him a subtle nod. that's all the affirmation angel needs.

he slides on his usual relaxed demeanour, though it's a little weaker than normal, as he approaches you. he's admittedly a little nervous, but he's determined to work things out with you. he puts a gentle hand on your shoulder to catch your attention. "hey, darlin'. can i talk to you for a minute?"

the two of you head back to your room, where heartfelt apologies are exchanged and a long overdue conversation takes place. at some point during the talk, his hand had found its way on top of yours, thumb brushing over your skin gently. at the end of it all, he gives you a small, content smile. "...baby, you have no idea just how much i adore you." he whispers into the quiet, running his fingers through your hair comfortingly as your head rests on his shoulder.

it was an unspoken agreement that tonight was going to be a sleepover night. prepare for lots of cuddling and gentle, soft kisses.

♡ vox

he's the type to go "ha, see if i care!" when you leave, but he'll still check on you occasionally through the various cameras and electronics around the city — he swears it's just because he's making sure the new limited edition voxtek product he had given to you isn't damaged.

(...it's totally because he's looking out for you, by the way. even if it's only a little. you are his darling, after all. and uh, you'll never know what happened to that guy who tried to hit on you that one time).

(vox made sure not even a trace of that bastard remained).

his obnoxious pride makes him reluctant to reach out first. that, and he's a petty little shit. so everyone around him, whether that be the other vees or his employees, is stuck dealing with his foul mood. he's become even more irritable and susceptible to lashing out than usual since you left.

he'd rather die than admit it, but you were a calming presence in his life that he hadn't realised he needed until you were gone. he hates just how much power you have over him, though you may or may not realise it. he's supposed to be the one in charge. when did you manage to sneak into his heart? his mind is occupied with thoughts of you.

and it only frustrates him more, because you're not here.

all his employees are left on edge, even more so when he takes his anger out on some poor soul who had gotten the numbers wrong on the report they handed in. "clean this mess up." vox snaps, glowering as he fixes the cuffs of his sleeves. the demon at the door hurriedly moves to do as he says, not wanting to risk meeting the same fate.

"what? what are you looking at?" he turns, eyes narrowing at the rest of the employees who flinch, hastily turning their eyes back to the screens in front of them. "get back to work." he mutters sharply, an unspoken threat in his words.

his volatile temperament goes on for a while, until velvette decides she's finally had enough and sends you a (not so) polite text to resolve your little lover's spat before she takes matters into her own hands.

meanwhile, vox is in his office. nothing seems to be going his way, and he's just about to blow another fuse when you nonchalantly throw open the doors, inviting yourself in. he freezes, staring at you for a few moments. you raise a brow. "...so. i heard you were throwing another hissy fit."

vox scowls at that, grumbling under his breath. "oh yeah? and what'd you come back for, you prissy little princess?" he sneers, clawed fingers digging into the desk with a quiet screech. "couldn't go without me for long, huh?"

"ha. you wish that was the case." you scoff, rolling your eyes with a half-amused, irked smile curling at your lips. things escalate into another argument pretty quickly, with the two of you at each other's throats. he towers over you, eyes narrowing as his grin widens in mild irritation.

it's a back and forth for quite some time, until you get sick of it and grab him by the collar of his shirt, yanking him closer until you're glaring at one another face to face. "what the fuck do you think you're—" he starts, but he's quickly cut off when your lips crash into his. vox is stunned for a few moments but soon snaps out of it, swiftly returning your kiss with equal, if not more, ferocity and intensity.

"finally got you to shut up." you murmur, grinning as you part to catch your breath and release his shirt from your grasp. before you can pull back completely, however, his hand reaches up to rest against the back of your neck, the other firmly on your waist. it takes another long, drawn-out kiss for him to finally let you go — though not really, since he's still holding you close in his arms.

"...that was hot." he whispers breathlessly, staring down at you with a somewhat satisfied glint in his eyes. but you both know that there's more to come.

suffice to say, the two of you sorted things out.

♡ lucifer

he would regret everything almost instantly. lucifer realises just how badly he fucked up when you leave without looking back. he's not even quite sure what happened as he stands alone in the room, blinking as he's left to process everything on his own. his mind is a jumbled mess, and he can't think clearly.

all he can feel is a suffocating rush of fear as he snaps out of his daze and hurries after you, desperate to find you before you're gone. he doesn't want to take his chances. what if you don't come back? what if—

he had said things that he didn't mean, and now the weight of it all feels crushing on his shoulders. he's torn between wanting to reach out to apologise and giving you time to cool down. he doesn't want to be a bother, but also really wants to make things up to you.

most of all, he just wants reassurance that you'll come back to him and that he hasn't messed things up for good. he doesn't want to lose you. you're too precious to him for that, and he's mentally kicking himself for ever making you question your importance to him for even a second.

thankfully, you haven't gone too far so he's able to catch up to you, taking a hold of your wrist firmly. however, when you turn to look at him, he falters, the words dying in his throat. he swallows, softly clearing his throat as he scrambles to say something, anything to stop you from leaving. to reaffirm his love for you.

"...sweetheart, i'm so sorry," he whispers, expression twisted and heart heavy with remorse and sorrow as he brings you close, grip subconsciously tightening because he's afraid to let you go. "i'll do anything, i'll make it up to you, i—" he trails off, burying his face into your shoulder, "just, please... don't leave. i'm sorry."

you really can't stay mad at him for too long after seeing his genuine sincerity. he acknowledges his wrongs, wanting nothing more than to make up for his mistakes and make you feel as appreciated and cared for as you've made him feel over the course of you two knowing each other. you sigh gently, thumb lightly brushing over his cheek. "...alright, silly. let's go home."

his eyes light up at that, and he's reminded of just how grateful he is to have you here by his side as you guys make your way home together. he holds your hand the entire time.

after the two of you make up, you find that he'll leave little gifts and cute trinkets around for you despite your gentle assurances that he doesn't have to. he also gives you lots of forehead kisses. he just wants to make sure you never forget how much he loves you, and that you mean the world to him.

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c-nstantine · 2 days

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to be a muse

Description: Benedict meets a fascinating young woman

Word Count: 0.9K

Warnings: I think I made Benedict a bit of a himbo but that's okay. the reader is still black and even though she's charlotte's daughter, I made it so she's any skin tone which lowkey makes sense given how wild genetics work

Benedict stared at the painfully blank canvas of his family's drawing room. Hyacinth's and Gregory's laughter could be heard running about in the family's home. Kate and Anthony were doing god knows what, honestly, he felt like he was going to throw up from the love that came from the both of them.

"Brother, I fear I'm in a rut," Benedict announced while plopping himself down in between Colin and Eloise. He reached over and stole one of Eloise's bonbons.

"I beg your pardon," Colin said as he jolted awake from Benedict's sudden appearance.

"Nothing, and I mean nothing, has inspired me. Idle hands," He waved his hands in the air for extra effort.

"You are out of inspiration and you woke me up to tell me this," Colin tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes but nothing was working as Benedict yapped on and on about art.

"Yes," Benedict shrugged.

"Have you tried going to the museum? I hear there is a new exhibit. It might spark something for you," Eloise just wanted to eat her bonbons in peace.

"That's why you are my favorite, " He ruffled her hair before dashing off to find his coat before heading to the museum.

He stood in front of a painting for what felt like hours. It seemed like he was waiting for something to come to him, his inspiration. Footsteps shuffled around him, yet, Benedict remained unmoved.

"I find his work to capture the inquisitive nature of who he paints," A melodic voice came from behind him. He turned a saw a woman around his age with the most beautiful features. Delectable lips, and round cheeks, and her skin looked like it was kissed by the gods themselves. The gorgeous shade of brown, he had ever seen.

"You do? That is a refreshing perspective. My family thinks them all to be faces on a canvas," He probably should have addressed her more formally but for now he was happy to have someone share interests with him.

"They are but they are also so much more. Each brush stroke is an attempt to capture a moment. No matter how imperfect it may be," She looked at him with a small smile playing on her lips. His eyes lingered there a little long before dragging down the rest of her body. She did not have the clothing of a commoner. She must be a lady, he thought to himself.

"Are you a painter?" He asked.

"I am talentless in art, I'm afraid but that doesn't stop me from enjoying it. And what about you?" She shook her head and he noticed the bouncy curls that fell from her scalp. He was becoming more and more entranced by the moment.

"I dabble. I am not great enough for a museum. My siblings believe it to be my hobby," He admitted rather shyly.

"Yet. You are not great enough for a museum, yet. Mister?" She asked for his name.

"Bridgerton. Benedict Bridgerton," Benedict gave her a small smile as he introduced himself. She chuckled slightly.

"It has been wonderful chatting with you, Mr. Bridgerton, but I fear I may have to leave." She looked disappointed that their conversation had come to an end. Benedict looked up at the painting and began to speak.

"What is your name so I may fin-" He looked down and she was gone. She had disappeared into the crowd before he could finish his statement. He pushed to the entrance of the museum but there was nothing.

"All of this happened and you did not catch the lady's name?" Colin asked as he and Benedict made their way away from the mothers who all wanted their daughters paired with a Bridgerton.

"She was perfect. I only entertained Mother's idea of me coming to the ball tonight in hopes of seeing her," Benedict said while adjusting his waistcoat and smiling at some of the season's eligible debutantes but none of them were her.

"And if she's not here?" Colin asked, his eyebrows squinted and a bit concerned by the potential answer.

"I will simply cease," He deadpanned.

"Cease what?"

"To exist," Benedict said and watched as more and more people arrived at the ball. Even the Queen was in attendance, but someone far more interesting trailed behind her.

"Stop hitting me. Mother, he's hitting me," Colin said as Benedict repeatedly tapped his brother's shoulder. Benedict's eyes were wide as they trailed the woman he met in the museum.

"That's her. That's the woman," Benedict said watching her gracefully walk across the room. She was dressed in the finest silks and her curls that were wild and free earlier were pinned back.

"Well, that cannot be," His mother started. Her son could not have been talking about her. That would have been impossible.

"What are you talking about? She is right there. Even more beautiful than when I saw her last," He noted her appearance before quickly bowing in the presence of Queen Charlotte. Sure, the family had her favor, but even they knew their place.

"Bridgertons, I do not think I have introduced my daughter. Princess Y/N, she takes after me in beauty of course," The Bridgertons turned and then bowed in front of the Princess who looked mortified.

"It is a pleasure to meet your acquaintances," She spoke softly as her gaze held Benedict's. He understood why she dashed away. The scandal of an unmarried princess wandering the museum alone. Especially, considering how long the two of them spoke together.

"A pleasure indeed," He would see her again. He had to find his muse.

Taglist: @flyestvenustrap@megamindsecretlair@blxckdesire @prettyvintageafternoon@lilbanas@certifiedloverwoman@melissa-ashe @hoyoooo @blckbarbiedoll idk if you guys wanna be here for this because it's a bit diff from my usual content but just let me know!!

#x black!reader #black!reader #x black reader #black reader #benedict x black!reader #benedict bridgerton x black reader #benedict bridgerton x black!reader #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict x princess!reader #benedict x reader #bridgerton x reader

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gojossocks · 2 days

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Ex to FWB! Gojo

Ex to FWB! Gojo x Reader content: angst, hurt/comfort, smut

I LOVE A YEARNING SATORU SO MUCH

Ex to FWB! Gojo who broke up with you out of the blue after a 3 year relationship with you without ever telling you why. He just told you that he lost the spark and he simply grew out of the relationship. He didn’t bother coming to get his things and just disappeared out of your life completely.

Ex to FWB! Gojo who you saw after a year of no contact in a house party. He’s still as handsome as ever and he went over to you as if you didn’t go through a shitty break up.

Ex to FWB! Gojo who had this elaborate plan to win you back but only let out a shaky sigh when he’s face to face with you. He misses you, he realizes— so much so that he feels as though he would combust if he doesn’t hold you right now and he wonders how he could endure an entire year without being by your side, without meaning something to you other than the jerk who broke your heart.

Ex to FWB! Gojo got desperate when you seem to be uninterested with whatever he has to say so he asked you to be fwb with him instead.

“use me, then.” His words sounded so weirdly nonchalant but you could see the desperation in his eyes as he looked at you with so much intensity.

and how could you resist him when he’s practically right where you imagine him to be? pleading so much that you’re sure that he’ll beg on his knees if you asked him to. So for your own self-satisfaction you said yes, and his face beamed so bright that it reminded you of the complex history you had with him you desperately try to unrecall.

So you laid out the rules, He’s not allowed to kiss you during sex, hold you afterwards, or even make a genuine connection during the time you’re hooking up, then lastly, both of you are allowed to date whoever and the arrangement wouldn’t continue anymore if any.

He scoffed when you told him the rules but you noticed the way he looked so nervous under the flashing lights.

Ex to FWB! Gojo who kisses you like he needs you to breathe, slipping his tongue when your mouth slightly parted, groaning when he finally gets to taste you.

Ex to FWB! Gojo died and almost went to heaven (cum in his pants) when you breathily whispered his name—”Satoru”, for the first time since he broke up with you. He had to teleport the both of you to his bedroom before he rips your dress off for everyone to see.

Ex to FWB! Gojo holds your hand while he’s fucking you, the other wandering your body until it reaches your clit, drawing fast harsh circles until it has you writhing underneath him. He remembers your body too well, even more than you do. He buries his face in the crook of your neck to prevent himself from kissing you.

Ex to FWB! Gojo who fucks you like there’s no tomorrow, pounding into you harshly that you couldn’t even think anymore. He got you so cockdrunk that the only word you remember is his name. It doesn’t even register to you when the bed frame breaks.

Ex to FWB! Gojo who desperately wants to kiss you but bites your neck instead when he cums deep inside you. He doesn’t stop thrusting even when you’ve both already came because he wanted a few more minutes to cage you in his arms because it’s the only time he only gets to do it.

Ex to FWB! Gojo felt disappointed when you left after the two of you fucked. He feels a hole punctured in his chest after you left him alone in his own apartment, he didn’t get to sleep that night.

Ex to FWB! Gojo getting frustrated when you’re adamant to follow the rules you made after 2 months of fucking. Each time he tries to make his actions genuine, you ask him to go faster and be rougher with you. He thought that little ‘act’ of yours is just a front to make him win you back but he soon realizes that you were being serious and you’re really only using him for your own sexual pleasure— all because he’s good in bed and he knows your body well. Nothing more, nothing less.

Ex to FWB! Gojo fakes his sleep to see what you’re going to do with him—if you’re going to run your hands through his hair, caress his cheek, kiss his forehead or speak to him when you think he’s asleep. Those little things that he took for granted during the course of your relationship that he misses so much. Instead, you get dressed and leave. The hole in his chest expanded tenfold after that.

Ex to FWB! Gojo who ‘coincidentally’ shows up near your apartment or the place where you work, claiming that he just happened to hang near where you’re at. He attempts to talk to you only to be met by subtle rejections and your fake excuses to go somewhere else.

Ex to FWB! Gojo who finally realizes the damage he has done with your relationship and how good he had it with you. He regrets not talking things out with you and leaving you without explaining the truth, that really, he’s just scared that he wouldn’t know what he’d do if he loses you because of the nature of his work or you realize that you deserve someone better than him.

Ex to FWB! Gojo who misses it when you used to look at him with soft, loving eyes. Not the one driven out of primal need and lust you always give him before the two of you fuck. He loves the scratches you give down his back, he thinks it’s a tangible proof that he still somehow has a hold on you and you’re still not completely out of his life, at least not yet. He wishes he could just show you how much he’s in love with you still— if only you’d let him.

Ex to FWB! Gojo who jokes about you staying the night, coaxing you to agree with him to just sleep in his place because your apartment is far away, you’re tired, and you have work tomorrow. Not because he wants more of you. (his whole being is shaking with need)

Ex to FWB! Gojo yearns for you so much that he couldn’t hide his despondent face anymore when you rejected his attempt to ask you out to stay over for the third time.

Ex to FWB! Gojo who heard from your mutual best friend, Shoko, that you’re going on a blind date next week and that you’re planning to break up the arrangement that week too.

Ex to FWB! Gojo who wishes you would give him a chance to explain everything, to win you back and allow him in your life again.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #gojo fic #gojo angst #gojo headcanons

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andersonlore · 23 hours

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high sex with dina…. high sex with dina……

kiss of heaven | dina

tags: eighteen+, sexual content, cannabis sex, oral (dina!r), face sitting, , dub-con (both reader and dina are high).

an. here's my first fic of dina! it's not perfect by any means by i kinda like it?? i hope you enjoy it as well.

there’s something special about it. firsts always are. the adrenaline pumping through your veins, the serotonin getting sent through your head when someone new kisses you for the first time, the very beginnings of an orgasm never been given by them, the shivers traveling up your spine with a promise of something more. it’s all so inviting your doe-eyed heart welcomes it with open arms.

but this isn’t the case.

dina sitting on your lap the entire night, taking hit after hit, the both of you lost in the feeling of what could’ve been all night. now, the both of you are too far lost in the lust of weed, all you can think about is fucking her. she’s been grinding back into you all night, as if it’s not torturing you to no end. you’re sure you’ve soaked yourself through and it would be embarrassing. possibly. desperately, you crave her more than anyone, you just need to be satiated. or sedated if she turns you down.

you’ve both been here before, years ago, but it feels just as it’s always been. somehow, you knew this would be your fate tonight. tongue tied with the woman you’ve never been able to get over. she comes into your life like nothing has changed. you let her, it makes you feel like a love struck idiot all over again.

well, tonight. you’re more high strung than anything. the both of you are.

the white of your eyes populated by red little lines, hooded as you have her pinned to the wooden door of a vacant room. all you have is a simple bra concealing your from her, delicate panties accentuating her divine hips. soft skin to the touch as you rub her hip bone with the pad of your thumb, drawing goosebumps in your wake.

you can’t help but look at her perfectly sculpted breast, soft stomach, the collarbones you crave to sink your teeth into. it’s what you dreamed of. even if inebriation took over you both, if you got to have her? it didn’t really matter at all. not really.

locking the door, you’re pulling her towards the bed as you take a seat in the middle as she stands there for you. “take them off.” you command, gesturing with a tilt of your head. she slips them off, not so gracefully, tripping as she does so. she warns you with her warm eyes to not utter a fucking word.

but you can’t help the small giggle you try to stifle. it’s impossible to conceal.

“you sure you want to test me?” she pushes, raising her bold eyebrows at you. intentionally, you snap your bra off before saying “no ma’am. wouldn’t dream of disappointing you.” instantly, the power becomes hers. as if it was ever anything different. a silent hope, wanting to have it for once, but with her? you crumble.

her beautifully dark hair is a mess, from your endless pulling. “can you, um—” she raises her expressive brows indicating for you to give in and tell her. you try your best, but you’re so distracted by her beauty, the cannabis taking over as you’re impossibly wet, drooling over having your dream girl back. even if it’s for a short time, she’s here.

“i want you to sit on my face, tonight. please?” she stalks you like her prey, climbing up your body before resting at your hips, before leaning down and whispering in your ear, “hm, finally seems like someone learned their manners.” the soft chuckle cured you of the last time before she wastes no more time. not a fucking second.

it’s all so quick. happening in a flash of your eyes, maybe it’s the weed and maybe it’s just her. the instant sigh released from her lips makes your thighs clench. you’re thankful she is facing you or else she’d make you split them apart. you know she would.

it’s been too long since you’ve had her. your tongue licking a bold strip from her clit, sliding down her labia until lightly dipping into her hold before traveling back up her pearl of pleasure. you’re missing the way her head is being thrown back with your eyes shut as you suckle on your favorite meal. being deprived of the sweet taste of her cunt for so long, you eat it up as if you’ve been starved.

“s’good baby, fuck. forgot how good your mo—” you spit dramatically on her cunt, smothering your spit on her pussy with your thumb, applying light pressure on her clit. “yeah , you should have never forgotten, baby. i always take care of you, don’t i?” slapping her supple ass with your free hand.

dina sinks down the extra weight she’d been holding, suffocating you with her slick. you open your eyes for a moment to take her in, only to find she’s looking right back. “hi angel” she whispers, making you giggle softly.

desperately, you’re trying to recall the last time she’s been this light hearted but you can’t. is it possible she’s changed? fuck, the possibility of new beginning is sent throughout your cunt. the idea only latches onto your brain for a moment before dina’s moaning again, rolling her hips deliciously, fucking your face and looking gorgeous doing it.

“is this what you want, huh? fuck…need to cum so fucking badly.” she moves her hips quickly, lost in the way you’re fucking the shit of her. skilled tongue giving her your best, hoping she’ll paint yours in return. she knows she never would’ve succumbed so easily if it wasn’t for the cannabis. dina, always one to savor. not go through the motions so quickly, but now she doesn’t really give a shit. all she craves is the high she knows you can offer.

fully focusing on her clit, you suck the pearl into your mouth, flicking your tongue over, over, and over. dina’s delicious thighs began to shake. irrevocably so. it’s her tell. right before she cums, each and every time, they shake. high pitched moans escape as she tries to regain composure but it’s useless. she’s far gone and you’re more than happy to send her tumbling over the edge.

“jus’ let go baby, yeah? just me ‘nd you. cum for me mommy? please?” you pause before saying what you know will send her over the edge. “c’mon, making a fucking mess all over my face. i can’t take it, babygirl. promise.”

#guys....i dont think i can write cute little blurbs anymore #actually crying about it #dina nolastname #dina woodward #dina x reader #dina x female reader #dina smut #dina nolastname x reader #dina woodward x reader #dina woodward smut #tlou x reader #dina x masc reader

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emjayewrites · 2 days

Text

All For Us (Lewis Hamilton SMAU)

SUMMARY: Lewis Hamilton secretly dates an older woman with a daughter and the public slowly starts connecting the dots. [smau w/narrative]

PAIRINGS: Sir Lewis Hamilton x influencer!OC Bree King (faceclaim is Sasha Exeter)

WARNINGS: verbal/emotional abuse from an ex, drama, age gap romance (Bree is 2 years older than Lewis), formula one b.s., pre-established relationship, step-daddy Lewis. PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS!!

TAGLIST: @cocobutterqwueen @httpsserene @mauvecherie-writes @galatially @pausmoon @a-moment-captured @yeea-nah @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @weetjy @lewisroscoelove @hxneyclouds @questionable-behaviour @lovebittenbyevans @tian-monique @alika-4466 @saintslewis @cherry2stems @planetmimi @woderfulkawaii @d3kstar @liamundi @trinitoldyouso @scorpiobleue @certifiedlesbianbaddie @blveeeeeee @sugardontbesweet @omgsuperstarg @bluesole16 @serpenttines-library @peyiswriting @royallyprincesslilly @jasmindaughteroftheworld @motheroffae @hrlzy @xoscar03

A/N: Read the warnings!! This oneshot may be triggering!! Please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist. The headers/dividers are by @inklore

Lewis grinned as Bree's face appeared on his FaceTime screen. "There she is! My favorite lady."

"I should hope that's still the case," Bree teased with a wink before turning her head. "Sloane, baby, come say hi to Lewis!"

A moment later, Bree's eight-year-old daughter popped into view, her face lighting up with excitement. "Lewis! Hi!!"

"Hey there, Sloane!" Lewis' smile widened. "Having fun at camp?"

The little girl nodded vigorously. "It's so cool! We went canoeing yesterday and I caught the biggest frog ever!"

"No way, that's amazing!" Lewis played along. "You'll have to show me next time I see you. Which is actually why I FaceTimed..." He glanced at Bree, who gave him an encouraging nod before he proceeded. "I was wondering if you and your mom are still planning to come to my race in Montreal next week?" he asked Sloane. "It'll be my last chance to see you before you go back to school."

"YES!!" Sloane pumped her fist in the air emphatically. "We're definitely coming! I can't wait!"

Bree chuckled fondly and ruffled her daughter's hair. As her eyes met Lewis again over the video call, her expression was full of meaning.

Though keeping their relationship under wraps wasn't easy, moments like this made it worth it to Lewis. Having this slice of domestic bliss, however ephemeral, grounded him in a way he never could have imagined before meeting Bree and her daughter. It was a small price to pay for the unexpected joy of finally finding someone who knew the real him - flaws and all.

Their relationship was still so new, barely six months old, but he felt more at peace with Bree than he could have imagined. Bree understood the punishing demands his career brought in a way no one else could. With her own entrepreneurial spirit and drive, she never asked him to compromise his ambition. If anything, she helped stoke it.

Yes, the secrecy could be tedious at times. But Lewis didn't mind. After a lifetime in the spotlight, he relished having this one thing that was just for him and Bree. At least for now.

Race day arrived and Bree made her way through the hustle and bustle of the Montreal Grand Prix paddock. Despite Sloane's excitement in the lead-up, her father had pulled one of his typical selfish moves at the last minute by insisting on taking her to the zoo that day instead.

Bree felt that familiar pang of disappointment mixed with resignation. Her ex had been more of a sperm donor than an actual parent to their daughter from the day Sloane was born. He only seemed to appear when it was convenient for him, not Sloane.

Pushing those negative thoughts aside, Bree focused on the thrill of being here to support Lewis. As an influencer, she had initially been given paddock access through her partnership with Peroni, but over the last few months, as her relationship with Lewis intensified, racing had become personal.

"You must be Bree!" She spun around at the greeting to see a tall, stocky man striding towards her, hand outstretched. Spinz stood around six-foot-three and was built like a linebacker, with a lightly tanned skin tone. His smile was kind and friendly as he enthusiastically shook her hand. "I'm Daniel, but you can call me Spinz."

"It's so great to finally meet you! Lewis has told me loads about you," Bree mentioned happily.

"Likewise," Spinz replied genuinely. "I've heard so many stories, it's nice to finally put a face to the name."

Lewis and she had been intentionally slow about intermingling friends and family. They didn't want to rush things before they were both exclusive and comfortable, yet now that Sloane had grown so fond of Lewis, it felt right to begin that integration.

"Can't believe my man is finally bringing his girlfriend around the paddock!" Spinz continued, laughing delightedly. "Bout time, if you ask me." This emitted a chuckle from Bree. "Well, since you're finally here, allow me to give you the grand tour," Spinz offered, gesturing for her to follow him. "Lewis is still doing his pre-race routine, but I can show you around until he's free."

Bree nodded eagerly, falling into step beside the towering Spinz as he led them through the controlled chaos of the paddock. He pointed out the various team garages, the hospitality suites, and regaled her with funny behind-the-scenes stories from past races.

Despite the unfamiliar environment, Bree instantly felt at ease with Spinz's warm presence and easy banter. She could understand why he and Lewis had been mates for so long. There was an affable authenticity to him that put her instantly at ease.

"And this...is the sacred ground," Spinz proclaimed dramatically as they walked inside the Mercedes garage. "Though I suppose for you, it's more like hallowed ground at this point, eh?" He elbowed her teasingly.

Bree laughed, shoving him back playfully. "That's one way to put it, I suppose. I have to admit, seeing this side of his life up close is still taking some getting used to."

Before Spinz could respond, a familiar voice spoke out. "Hi, baby."

Bree shifted her gaze to see Lewis walking over to them, clad in his racing suit. His eyes crinkled behind his sunglasses as he pulled her into an embrace. She melted into his arms, inhaling his familiar warm scent.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, gorgeous. Pre-race craziness, you know how it is," Lewis murmured, lowering his voice. "But I'm all yours now."

He leaned in to place a soft kiss on her lips. Even with the smile on his face, Bree could sense that something seemed a bit off with him.

"How are you?" Bree asked gently.

Lewis let out an exasperated sigh. "Comme ci, comme ça." He made a wavering 'so-so' gesture with his hand to emphasize his point.

Bree's expression was knowing. "Ah, I see." With a slow blink, she decided not to pry further for now.

"Let's not worry about that now, okay?" Lewis gave her a lopsided grin, clearly wanting to change the subject. "Everything good with you? How was the tour with Spinz?"

"Great, Spinz was awesome. Thank you again for the tour," Bree replied, smiling at Lewis' friend.

Spinz waved it off. "No problem at all. I'll leave you two to it. Lew, I'll catch up with you later?"

"Of course, man." Lewis pulled Spinz in for one of their signature dap-up handshake hugs before his friend departed.

"Now that that's out of the way..." Lewis trailed off, snaking his arms around Bree's waist and pulling her close. "I can finally kiss you like I've been wanting to."

"Oh, so it's like that, Sir Hamilton?" Bree teased, removing his sunglasses to gaze into his warm brown eyes. "There, that's better. I can actually see those pretty eyes of yours now."

Lewis batted his lashes exaggeratedly. "You like what you see, huh? I could get used to all this flattery."

With that, he leaned in and captured her lips in a lingering, tender kiss, the troubles of the earlier melting away as he lost himself in her being.

Bree paced near the gate, phone pressed to her ear as she listened to her ex-husband's latest tirade.

"You're really going to let some race car driver try to one-up me as a father figure for Sloane? Come on, Bree. This guy is just a fling - he'll get bored of playing house eventually and leave you high and dry."

She bristled at his condescending tone, upset rising in her chest. Before she could snap back, her gaze landed on Sloane sitting nearby. The little girl was utterly engrossed, flipping through a "Formula One for Kids" book in preparation for their time at Silverstone.

The sight of her daughter's pure, unbridled excitement instantly calmed Bree's anger. She took a steadying breath before responding.

"You know what, you're right - you shouldn't be threatened because unlike you, Lewis actually shows up for Sloane," she stated evenly. "He's been more of a parent to her in six months than you have her whole life."

There was an indignant sputtering on the other end, but Bree kept talking before he could interject.

"Don't project your guilt about being an absentee dad onto my relationship. This isn't about you. It's about giving our daughter some stability and male role model who wants to be present."

The overhead speaker crackled to life, an announcement requesting they begin boarding their flight to Paris. Bree knew she needed to hang up now if they wanted to make it.

"I'm done wasting my time on this. We're boarding now. Maybe next time you can join us instead of just criticizing from the sidelines." She ended the call with a tap before he could respond.

Turning to Sloane, Bree plastered on a brilliant smile, letting the contentment of this new chapter wash over her.

"You ready for our adventure, baby girl?"

Sloane beamed up at her mother, curls bouncing as she nodded enthusiastically. "So ready! This is gonna be the best vacation ever!"

As they joined the line to board, hand-in-hand, Bree felt a swell of gratitude. Her daughter deserved all the happiness in the world - and she'd do whatever it took to provide it, with or without Sloane's father.

-------------------------------------------------

"No, no, you've got the lyrics all wrong!" Sloane collapsed in a fit of giggles as Lewis dramatically belted out his very off-key rendition of "We Don't Talk About Bruno" from Encanto, which was playing on the TV.

"What are you talking about? This is exactly how it goes!" Lewis protested, bopping around their hotel suite and encouraging Sloane to sing and dance along with him.

Bree watched the scene unfold with a content smile, sipping her coffee as her boyfriend and daughter's musical silliness filled the room. It had been a long but utterly joyful day exploring the magic of Paris together.

As the next song from the movie came on, Lewis grabbed Sloane's hands and started twirling her around in an impromptu dance number. Sloane squealed with laughter, trying her best to follow his goofy choreography.

Despite having to attend a couple of fashion shows, Lewis insisted on making the most of their time together. He had kicked things off with a surprise shopping trip that morning to Dior, allowing Bree and Sloane to play dress-up before walking away with an entirely new boutique-worthy wardrobe.

From there, it was on to take in the splendor of Parisian culture and sights. They strolled along the Champs-Élysées, stopping to snack on crispy crepes and macarons. Lewis delighted in teaching Sloane a few French phrases, though she quickly realized he was cheekily mispronouncing things.

As evening fell, Lewis whisked them away to a breathtaking circus show at Cirque Phénix. Sloane's eyes were saucers the entire time as she watched the daring acrobats and exotic animals perform. When it was over, she kept asking "How did they DO that?!" in awed tones.

Finally, they capped the night off with a decadent multi-course dinner at an acclaimed family-owned bistro. Even Sloane was lured into trying cuisine well beyond her usual mac-and-cheese comfort zone.

Now, lounging in their luxury hotel after baths, it was the perfect way to wind down after a memory-making day. Lewis intentionally kept the mood light and fun, perhaps sensing Bree needed a break from any lingering emotional fallout after her ex's cruel words.

Lewis and Sloane collapsed in a giggling heap on the suite's plush rug, exhausted but elated. Pressing kisses to Sloane's flushed cheeks, Lewis grinned contentedly.

"Best day ever, right team?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

As the Silverstone Grand Prix weekend approached, Lewis became adamant that Bree and Sloane finally meet his family. They would all be in attendance on Sunday to cheer him on at his beloved home race.

"It's time," he stated firmly one night as they relaxed together in bed. "You two are the most important people in my life now. I want my family to really know you both."

Bree felt a flutter of nerves, knowing this was a big step. In all his years as a global celebrity, Lewis had only ever brought one other woman home to meet his parents and siblings - his ex-girlfriend from years ago. There hadn't been anyone serious enough since then to warrant those introductions, until Bree came along.

Saturday night arrived, and Bree smoothed her hands down the summer dress she had carefully selected. She caught a glimpse of her anxious expression in the mirror and exhaled slowly.

Get it together, she scolded herself.

So what if she was a few years older than Lewis, and a single mom at that? His family seemed warm and supportive based on what little she knew. Surely they wouldn't judge her too harshly, right?

The sudden image of them dismissing her as some gold-digging cougar flashed through Bree's mind before she could stop it. She shook her head firmly. Those were her own insecurities talking, not reality.

"You ready, gorgeous?" Lewis' voice pulled her from her reverie. He stood in the doorway, Sloane's little hand clasped securely in his own.

Bree managed a tremulous smile and nodded. "As I'll ever be. Let's do this."

They made their way to the private dining room at Dishoon's, where Lewis' family awaited. The moment they entered, multiple pairs of eyes widened almost comically at the picture before them - Lewis holding Sloane's hand while his other arm wrapped protectively around Bree's waist.

Bree felt her cheeks warm as the hushed murmurs started. Lewis simply grinned, surveying the room with an almost smug satisfaction.

"Everyone, I'd like you to meet the two leading ladies in my life..." he began by way of introduction. "This is Bree and Sloane."

What followed was a cheerful commotion of hugs, back slaps and well-wishes as Lewis deftly made the rounds. To Bree's relief, his family seemed just as warm and gregarious as he had described.

If anything, they seemed impressed by her vibrant spirit and career accomplishments. Lewis' father in particular was delighted to discover Bree's Caribbean heritage, insisting they were practically "family already."

At one point, Lewis was gently pulled aside by his mother, Carmen. Concern furrowed the older woman's brow as she studied her son intently.

"So...what do you think of her, Mum?" Lewis asked almost shyly.

Carmen's expression softened as she glanced over at where Bree and Nicola were giggling together. "I think...I haven't seen you look this happy and fully yourself in a long time, sweetie."

She reached up to cup Lewis' cheek, her eyes shining with emotion. "That girl clearly adores you. And you've already taken her little one into your heart as well."

Lewis' smile was beatific as he covered his mother's hand with his own. "She's the one, Mum. I'm going to marry her someday."

Carmen arched an eyebrow, though her tone remained gentle. "Are you ready for that? To be a father to that little girl, and take on all those responsibilities?"

Lewis didn't hesitate. "More than ready," he stated with conviction. "Bree and Sloane...they're my world now. I can't imagine my life without them in it."

Pulling his mother into a firm embrace, Lewis felt his heart swell almost to bursting. For so many years, this kind of profound contentment had eluded him despite all his success. But somehow, fate had brought these two incredible ladies into his life. And he would spend every day showing them how indescribably grateful he was.

As they prepared for their upcoming trip to Grenada, articles started appearing in The Sun and The Daily Mail hinting that Lewis was dating Bree. Twitter was going crazy, with Lewis' massive fandom mostly showing support, especially after photos and videos surfaced of him with Sloane at the Silverstone race weekend. Sloane had been put 'in charge' of caring for Lewis' beloved English bulldog, Roscoe, and both she and the dog were practically attached to Lewis' hip the entire time.

Meanwhile, Sloane's father was up in arms once more about the apparent relationship. Bree's phone rang with the sperm donor himself on the other line.

"How dare you let that race car driver get so close to my child!" he yelled. "He thinks he can just swoop in and play dad now?"

"I mean someone has to do it," Bree muttered under her breath.

"I'm going to sue for full custody if you keep letting that man around my daughter!" Sloane's father shouted over the phone. "You're just a useless whore letting any man walk all over you!"

It was at that moment that Lewis came walking into the kitchen, having just finished playing in the backyard with Sloane. He immediately sensed the tension on Bree's face.

"Give me the phone," Lewis said firmly, holding his hand out.

Bree shook her head, not wanting to subject him to her ex's vitriol. But then the man's voice came through again.

Lewis' jaw clenched and he commanded again, "The phone, Bree. Now."

Reluctantly, she passed it over, her eyes apologetic. Lewis gave her a reassuring nod before putting the phone to his ear. "Who the fuck do you think you are, speaking to her like that?" he said sternly.

"Who do YOU think you are?" the man retorted. "You have no right getting cozy with my kid!"

Lewis' expression hardened. "I care deeply about both Bree and Sloane," he stated firmly. "And I'll be damned if I let you disrespect them like this."

"You think you can just insert yourself into my daughter's life?" Sloane's father sneered. "Playing father figure and getting handsy with her mother? Over my dead fuckin' body."

She opened her mouth to let loose a blistering retort, but Lewis squeezed her shoulder lightly.

"Listen here, mate," Lewis' voice was low but resonant with conviction. "I love that little girl as if she were my own flesh and blood. Sloane is everything to me, to us. And I'll be damned if you try to keep us apart with your selfishness and toxic presence."

Bree's breath caught at the fierce protectiveness in Lewis' words. She covered his hand with her own, lending him her strength.

On the other end, Sloane's father sputtered indignantly before finding his voice again. "You arrogant prick! You can't just—"

"That's enough." Lewis's words sliced through the man's tirade like a whip. "Your disrespect ends now. And if you continue speaking to Bree this way, you'll never see Sloane again."

There was a pause on the other end. "Is that a threat?" Sloane's father spat.

"No," Lewis said coldly. "It's a promise." He disconnected the call and turned his full attention to Bree, wrapping his arms around her firmly. "How long has he been talking to you like that, love?"

Bree let out a shaky breath, leaning into his embrace. "Not long...just when we started getting serious."

Lewis scoffed, rolling his eyes at her ex's audacity. The man had been absent for most of Sloane's life, and now that another man was stepping up, he wanted to play father?

"Next time he does that, record it," Lewis instructed. "Take it to your lawyers. I don't want that piece of shit thinking he can verbally abuse you however he pleases. He's going to fuck around and end up in a ditch somewhere if he keeps going down this road."

Bree searched his eyes intently. "You would...kill for me? For us?"

"Yes." Lewis met her gaze unflinchingly. "I'd do anything for you and Sloane. Anything at all."

The fierceness in his voice sent a shiver down her spine. She knew, without a doubt, that he meant every word.

-------------------------------------------------

Bree sighed contentedly as she gazed out at the pristine Grenadian beach. So much had happened so quickly - meeting Lewis' friends and family, being accepted into their fold almost instantly alongside Sloane, yet it all felt so natural, like the missing pieces finally clicking into place.

Her eyes shielded from the brilliant sun, she watched as Lewis chased the waves with Sloane, both of them shrieking with laughter. He looked utterly gorgeous with his toned, tattooed physique glistening with saltwater, the picture-perfect image of a doting father. The idea of giving Sloane a sibling, with Lewis as the dad, sounded unexpectedly appealing. Though she had a few eggs frozen, she wondered if pregnancy at her age would be difficult, but as scary as that thought was, she couldn't fathom being with anyone else. Their seven month relationship felt more profound than any bond she'd ever known.

Down the beach, Lewis was helping Sloane construct an elaborate sandcastle, patting the wet sand into turrets.

"Lewis?" Sloane piped up suddenly.

"Yes, princess?"

"Do you love my mom?"

He smiled warmly. "Yes, I do. Very much. And I love you too."

Sloane beamed, delighted by his answer. "Will you marry my mom then? My parents were married but then they got divorced."

Lewis' heart melted at her hopeful expression. "You want me to make an honest woman out of your mum?"

She nodded vigorously. "I just want her to be happy."

"I promise I'll do everything I can to make you both happy," he vowed. "But would it be okay with you, if I married your mum?"

"Duh!" Sloane rolled her eyes dramatically. "I already think of you as my bonus dad."

Lewis felt his throat tighten with emotion at Sloane's words. This amazing little girl and her mother had utterly stolen his heart.

Gently, he pulled Sloane into a hug, resting his chin atop her head. "You know I love you like you're my own daughter, right? You and your mum are everything to me."

Sloane nodded against his chest. "I know. That's why you should marry her." She pulled back to look up at him with those big, innocent eyes. "Will you be my dad for real then?"

"Of course, princess," Lewis murmured, brushing the sandy hair from her face. "If your mum will have me, I'd be honored to be your dad in every way that matters."

Sloane grinned, throwing her little arms around his neck excitedly. Down the beach, Bree watched the tender scene with a wistful smile. She could clearly see the love between Lewis and her daughter - it was undeniable.

As if he could sense her eyes on him, Lewis glanced over and raised a hand in a beckoning wave. Bree rose fluidly to her feet and made her way over, sandals dangling from one hand.

"Everything okay over here?" she asked lightly as she approached.

Lewis stood, pulling Bree flush against his side with his free arm. "More than okay," he replied, dropping a kiss on her salty hair. "We're building a sandcastle estate and could use the extra hands, right Sloane?" Sloane was too busy packing buckets full of wet sand into elaborate castle molds to answer and Lewis shrugged. "Alrighty then, let's get to work."

As they worked together under the warm sun, Bree couldn't help but feel grateful for these moments of simple joy with the little family she created.

The Las Vegas Grand Prix was in full swing, and Lewis was basking in the excitement of being publicly "Instagram official" with Bree. He had Bree by his side, and he was so happy to be able to publicly show off their relationship.

It wasn't that he cared what anyone else thought - Lewis had never been one to seek approval or validation from others. But having Bree by his side made everything feel more real, more solid. She was his rock, his anchor in this wild world of racing. These last few months, although crazy at times, were the best memories to experience with Bree.

And she looked stunning as always. Her long dark hair cascaded down her back in soft waves and her fitted red dress hugged her curves in all the right places. She was by Lewis' side through all the glitzy festivities and parties surrounding the race weekend, including the launch of his Almave pop-up bar. With Sloane spending the weekend with Bree's mother, it was a kid-free getaway, and he intended to take full advantage.

He knew Bree's ex-husband would be fuming seeing pictures of them together online, but Lewis didn't give two flying fucks about him anymore. He was focused solely on Bree and the profound happiness she brought him. Bree's arm was looped through his as they made their way through the crowded VIP party for the race sponsors. He greeted familiar faces with warmth and charm, introducing her to everyone he knew.

"You're a natural at this," Lewis remarked as they headed towards the bar for some much-needed drinks.

Bree laughed and rolled her eyes playfully. "Please, I'm just winging it."

He shook his head in mock disapproval as they approached the bar. "Don't sell yourself short," he said seriously before turning to order their drinks.

_____________________________________

After dinner one evening at their hotel's high-end restaurant, fans swarmed Lewis for autographs as they exited. "You're a lucky man," one told him, eyeing Bree appreciatively. "She's gorgeous."

Lewis' arm tightened around her waist. "I know," he said simply, pride warming his tone.

Back in their suite, they came together in a heated clash of lips and roving hands, shedding clothes as they stumbled towards the bedroom. Bree reveled in the hard planes of Lewis' body, tracing the lines of his tattoos as he worshipped her with his mouth.

He lifted her up effortlessly and carried her to bed, laying her down gently before joining on top of her, settling between her legs. Their bodies fit together perfectly like puzzle pieces as they moved together in a rhythm that felt almost too familiar now.

Every time they made love was like a brand new experience for them both. They never grew tired of exploring each other's bodies or finding new ways to pleasure one another.

In between stolen kisses and whispered declarations of love, they lost themselves completely in each other until they reached that explosive climax. Afterwards, they lay sated and tangled in the plush hotel linens. Bree traced idle patterns across Lewis' chest as he tucked her against his side.

"Have you thought about getting married again?" he asked quietly.

Bree's head whipped up in surprise. "Here? In Vegas?"

Lewis chuckled, dropping a kiss on her forehead. "No, love. No offense to others, but I could never get married here. I meant...in a year or two, maybe. With me."

Her breath caught at the meaningful weight behind his words. "I...actually think about that a lot," she admitted shyly. "I can see us having a future together."

Warmth bloomed in Lewis' eyes. "You can?"

Bree nodded, feeling herself get swept up in the thrilling certainty of what she felt for this man. "Yes. A real future - marriage, forever."

Lewis looked utterly overjoyed as he cupped her face tenderly. "Okay then...future Lady Hamilton."

A startled laugh bubbled up from Bree's lips. "Lady Hamilton? Is that what I'll be since you're Sir Lewis?"

"Precisely." His grin was terribly smug. "Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

"It sounds like some character from Bridgerton!" she giggled, swatting his chest playfully.

Lewis joined in her mirth, nodding wholeheartedly in agreement. "I can see the resemblance."

Bree's laughter slowly faded as she gazed at the man she loved with every fiber of her being.

Her future husband - it had a deliciously appealing ring to it.

The End.....or is it?

#all for us #sir lewis hamilton #emjayewrites #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfic #sir lewis hamilton x black!reader #lewis hamilton x black!reader #lewis hamilton x oc

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pomefioredove · 9 hours

Note

i just noticed on your 'yuu gets sold' sorta series that there was a good ending, by chance could you do a bad ending one? if not that's totally ok! keep safe and stay healthy ❤️

oh god. I have a very evil idea for this.

parts 1 | 2 | 3 | kalim

summary: a bad (or good, depending on your stance) ending type of post: short fic characters: surprise :) additional info: yuu is gender neutral, this is short, HELP

Everyone waits.

The chatter and banter which once occupied the courtyard dies down to dull whispers and foot tapping.

Everyone waits, and there's no Crowley.

"Wonderful," Jamil sighs. "He's probably taken all the money and run off. I told you all that-"

"Maybe he's late!" Kalim shouts. A few in the crowd murmur in hopeful agreement.

Silver coughs. "Maybe he realized this whole thing is ridiculous and is processing everyone's refunds,"

They don't like that option as much.

The sun hangs lower and lower in the sky, threatening to shroud everyone in darkness as the minutes tick on.

"Well, I've had enough of this," Vil says, turning towards the exit. "I've put off my afternoon long enough."

"For once, we can agree on something," Leona murmurs, dragging Ruggie along with him.

No one is exactly surprised with this turn of events- but there's a definite sense of disappointment that everyone is sharing.

"He probably just forgot or 'somethin," Epel says, walking alongside Ace, Deuce, and Jack back to Ramshackle to update you on the happenings.

Jack shrugs. "He's definitely not the most organized, but there's no way someone could just "forget" about this. I think Jamil is right, he probably ran off with the money while he could. The swindler..."

Deuce is the next to add something to the pity party. "And yet, we should've known this was a possibility,"

"Shoulda seen it coming..." Epel murmurs. "I shoulda listened to Vil and pulled out while I still had the chance. Dang it..."

The lights are on in Ramshackle as the four approach, a warm and welcome sight after their disappointing afternoon. And the front door is open- were you expecting them?

"Hm. Well, think of it this way," Ace pushes the door the rest of the way open. "We may have been scammed, but at least nothing changes. I mean, it could've been worse."

"A lot worse," Deuce murmurs, following him inside.

The four make it into the foyer and stop dead in their tracks.

There are many things to expect walking into Ramshackle- cobwebs, dust, ghosts, you- Crowley is usually not one of them.

"You- you've been here this whole time?!" Epel shouts, throwing his arms out. "We were all 'waitin for 'ya like a bunch of idjits!"

Deuce and Ace wince. "Dude, chill... but seriously, where were you?"

Crowley doesn't have the chance to answer before something else steals away their attention.

You walk into the room, suitcase in hand. "Guys?"

The four turn to greet you, eyes wide at the luggage you're carrying. "What's that... Crowley?"

The man himself just stands there, pretending to ponder something. "I could have sworn I sent someone to break the news... how peculiar,"

Epel's brow knots. "What news?"

"A third party somehow got wind of our little... venture and donated a very high sum at the last minute. Along with a very passionately worded letter about our dear prefect's safety here at school," he pauses. "Or lack thereof."

Crowley sighs. "The name rung a bell, but... I couldn't imagine how or why anyone outside of NRC would be following the prefect's moves so closely,"

Deuce's eyes narrow. "Crowley. What are you trying to say?"

"Well, I..." he says, seemingly at a loss for words. "I'm afraid to say that our prefect is being transferred to Noble Bell College,"

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #okay. admittedly I had a little TOO much fun with this concept. mostly because I've always wanted to write an 'everyone fighting over yuu #just for him to swoop in at the last minute' type thing. because it's funny and I actually really like mr. catholic guilt #I'm a big fan of the character he's based on anyway

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multi-fandom-imagines8 · 1 day

Text

The Princess & the Spy

Warnings: angst, death

A/N: Hello everyone, I’m back! It’s been a couple of years. I wrote this at 3 a.m, so bare with me.

Summary: Y/n is the princess of Vallahan. Her father joins the king of Hybern during the war and Azriel is sent there to spy. He meets y/n and uses her for information. When she finds out, she’s angry, heartbroken and decides to join the war with her father.

Word count: 1.58K

In recent days, escalating tension caused by the inevitable war the king of Hybern planned against the mortal realm spread. The king of Vallahan was rumored to have aligned with Hybern. Despite the growing support for this alliance within Vallahan, princess Y/n remained against it. She actively tried to swat her father but to no avail. Reluctantly, she attended the war strategy meetings at her father’s behest, though she always sought a means to evade them. One night, as she slipped away from yet another meeting, she encountered a mysterious figure lurking in the shadows. As she moved closer, she was met with a handsome male, who was taken aback the minute she laid eyes on him.

“Are you new here? I have never seen you before” she inquired, her lips curving into a tentative smile.

“I- I am… kind of” the male stammered.

“I rarely have the opportunity to meet new people. I’m Y/n” she introduced herself, extending her hand.

“Your highness” he bowed respectfully “I’m Azriel”.

“I see you’ve heard of me. I had hoped otherwise” Y/n remarked, a tinge of disappointment in her tone.

“Of course, you are the princess of Vallahan. Why is it that you don’t want to be recognized?” Azriel inquired with genuine curiosity.

Y/n sighed softly “Because the moment people find out who I am, they start treating me with formality and- and distance”.

“I see” a gentle smile appeared on his face “May I ask a favor of you?”

“Depends”.

“If you keep our encounter a secret, I promise to return and engage with you on a more casual level” he offered.

“Alright. Your secret is safe with me” her eyes sparked with excitement, but little did she know that her trust just made Azriel’s mission a lot easier.

As days and weeks passed, Azriel would come and start a conversation with her , gradually coaxing Y/n to confide in him about the war discussions she detested attending. Unbeknownst to her, she began to harbor feelings for him, while Azriel, in turn, found himself unexpectedly drawn to her. However, their affection took a tragic turn one night when Y/n failed to appear at their customary location. Concerned for her well-being, Azriel , being a shadowsinger, inquired about her whereabouts and teleported to her chambers, only to find her in tears.

“Y/n?” He spoke softly.

“A-Az?” she was startled by his sudden presence.

“What’s wrong?” seeing tears in her eyes, made him feel something he didn’t wish to.

“How did you get in here?” She quickly wiped away her tears.

“That’s not important right now. Who hurt you?” He asked, stepping closer with concern.

“No one. It’s just… I am a fool. I thought that somehow my father would not join this war. Despite knowing his nature, I had little hope. I just- I don’t understand. I’m just tired and I don’t wish to talk about this today” she rubbed her face wearily.

“It’s alright. You are not a fool. You simply see the best in everyone” he hesitated before sitting at the corner of her bed.

“And look where that got me”.

Unsure if he should proceed, knowing that he’s also not as good as she thinks he, he decided to speak up “Y/n, there’s something I need to tell you”.

She turned to face him, curiosity all over her face “what is it?”.

“If I asked you to run away with me, would you?”.

She chuckled softly “You know I can’t. I have a responsibility towards my people”.

“But with the war looming, doesn’t that change things?” He hoped she’d agre, that she’d be out of harm’s way when the war started. When they had to fight her father, her people. He had hoped that he’d be able to protect her, to spare her, but deep down he knew. He knew that was not going to happen, especially since he’s been lying to her, manipulating and deceiving her all this time, she’d never accept once she found out the truth.

“There was a time when I wanted to run away, to go very far away and never look back. To be free, but I cannot, Az” she responded.

“Please” he pleaded.

“Why do I sense there’s something you’re not telling me? Why the sudden talk about leaving?” she moved closer, placing her hands atop his.

He took a deep breath before speaking again “because I’m leaving tonight. I’m returning home-“.

“Well, you can always come back” she interrupted.

“No, you don’t understand. My home is not here, it’s far away and I won’t be returning, at least not in the same manner” he clarified.

“Not in the same manner? Az, you’re not making any sense. If your home is far away, why were you here?” She withdrew her hands, but he held onto hers.

“I am sorry for what I am about to tell you and know that I truly am sorry for everything. It was not supposed to end like this. I initially came here to spy on your father and report back to my high lord. When you caught me and I realized who you are, I saw an opportunity and I took it. I know it was wrong, and I apologize. If I could take it all back, I would, but I can’t. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but you deserve the truth. When the war starts, we’ll find ourselves on opposite sides and I- I wanted to get you out of here. You’re not like th-“.

“Do not finish that sentence” she shook her head, trying to hold the tears from falling “I was a fool. I should’ve known. You- you… All this time I’ve been working for the enemy without knowing it, how am I supposed to face my people now? Get out! I never want to see you again” she declared, feeling something inside her fracture.

“Y/n, please. I-“.

“Leave. NOW! I don’t want to hear anything that comes out of your mouth. Leave before I call the guards” she shut her eyes, not knowing what she was hoping for: for him to stay or for him to do as she says and leave forever.

He was about to say something, but seeing how much pain he had caused her, he chose to comply. When she reopened her eyes, he had vanished, as though he had never been there. All the memories, the joy he had brought her, it was all a lie. Her heart broke into a million tiny little pieces that night. He left her the night she needed him the most. That night made her choice to join the war easier.

—-

On the battlefield she had hoped to encounter him. She didn’t know the extent of his power, she had only heard rumors about what he could do in the past two days. Yet, today, she decided she’s going to fight him. From a distance, she could spot two warriors that were distinct from the rest, and she knew one of them was Azriel. She fought her way to him and the minute she reached him, her heart sank. She still loved him, but she couldn’t back down now. She owed her people for what she had done. All that blood was on her hand. She gave him all the information he needed to attack and slaughter them. Even if she can’t defeat him, she’ll at least die with her people. As she reached him, he froze as his eyes met her. Azriel always knew what to do, but at the moment he was lost and he was afraid. She saw his hesitation and took that to her advantage and attacked him. He easily blocked her attack, but she kept swinging her sword at him. He kept in a defensive position, not wanting to hurt her by mistake, he has already done enough damage. Y/n was getting frustrated, trying harder and harder to land a blow on Azriel, determined to defeat him. He moved with precision, effortlessly blocking each blow she aimed at him, his movements a silent plea for her to stand down, but she would not yield, her determination fueled by rage and hurt. That rage was controlling her, blinding her, making her vulnerable. With a swift motion, Azriel disarmed her, his blade halting just short of her chest as he held her at bay “this doesn’t have to end this way” he urged, barely able to speak, his heart aching at the sight of what she had become. In that instant, she realized she could never defeat him or erase him from her heart. He had won twice, and she refused to let him win again. With that, she knew the only way out…she moved forward, letting the blade pierce her heart.

“NO!” Azriel screamed, retracting the blade immediately. Blood filled her lungs and covered her chest. As she began to fall, he caught her, his hands soaked with her blood “why would you do that?” He whispered, cradling her in his arms.

“It was the only way. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop loving you. I couldn’t let you win” she caressed his cheek.

“Stay with me” he pleaded, holding her tighter.

“It’s alright. I-I for-give-you” she uttered with her dying breath, her hand slipping from his face.

“I’m sorry” he repeated, bringing her lifeless body closer to his chest, his forehead resting against hers

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shaisuki · 4 hours

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“you stink of nanami.”

alpha gojo satoru complains. his nostrils flaring at the scent lingering in your skin. detecting the heady scent of sandalwood. rich and comforting and yet evoking of dominance unlike to his warm and woody scent with a hint of sweetness belonging to his blonde kouhai. a pout in his lips and it's uncommon for domineering alphas like him to act like it.

“and?” you begrudgingly respond to him. “i was with nanami-san earlier.” you continued. beginning to stack the piles of folders in front of you and sorting them. “what about it gojo-san?”

“you're aware of it as an omega?” the question stops you from whatever you were doing. dropping the last folder and looking at him with a confused look. “i am?” your answer unsure of what you really want to say.

“what are you implying gojo-san?”

“is nanami courting you?”

“yes.”

“and i'm not?”

“what do you mean?”

the alpha in front of you removes his dark-tinted glasses. an “o” forms in your mouth. unaware of the courting he was making to you. always thought of them as just casual behavior towards you since you have nanami, his kouhai is currently courting you.

“i'm sorry gojo-san. i thought they were just gifts since you do that to everyone.” you confessed honestly. biting your lips in guilt at the gestures he was making to you as an effort to court you.

come to think of it he was still an unmated alpha and so is nanami and so are you and you didn't have any experience regarding to the courting or the mating process since you were not deemed as what omegas looks like. physically thin with slender frames with sweet features unlike you with a bigger frame that alphas strays away from you since you don't look like you were worth to be protecting and so you accepted it not until a few months back when nanami took interest in you and began courting you and gojo following until you only discovered it now.

“you hurt me.” he fakes a pout. slowly trudging to your way. towering you with his height and his scent is over in the place. “do you not want me as your alpha?” a low growl emitting from his chest. his blue eyes shining brighter. grabbing you by your plush waist and he bites back a moan from such heavenly feel of your soft body.

“g-gojo-san — i—”

“stay away from my omega, gojo.” nanami's firm voice interrupts him from further scenting you but the white-haired sorcerer is still in your neck. glancing at the other alpha in the room. “not your omega, she's still not mated.” a deep, low guttural growl coming from the blonde sorcerer serves as a warning for the another alpha in front of him. his own scent clashing against the another scent causing it to permeate around the room and your poor omega couldn't contain the excitement of two alphas fighting over you.

chest puffed out as thet assert their dominance to each other not letting it surrender. a sign of weakness it is and not wanting to disappoint the omega they are courting.

it is the scent of their sweet, little 'mega that broke the unwavering assertion of dominance between them. a scent similar to freshly baked bread that entices the hungry. both alphas are now in full attention to their omega. a curse leaving nanami's lips at what's happening. they accidentally set you in an early heat by blasting their pheromones in full.

“'t hurts. —hurts...” you whimpered. rubbing your creamy thighs together as slick gushes out from your warm needy hole.

nanami is the first to comfort you. “oh, darling.” he carries you by grabbing your butt cheeks. hoisting you in a easy feat and you instinctively clings to him. “—nami.” purring his name in a adorable manner and his cock throbs at the mere voice of you.

“you're not taking her away from me, nanami.” gojo grabs his arm. nanami scowls at him. “it's your fault, you fucking idiot.” he ignores it.

“i have to take responsibility.” he snakes his lanky arms around you. squeezing your doughy stomach and his hands wandered to the zipper of your skirt. his slender fingers unzipping your skirt. “we want to make our sweet 'mega to feel good, don't we?”

his finger rubbing your slit through your slick-covered panties. “right 'mega?” he whispers and your hips roll to get more of that delicious friction. “y—yes, alpha.” you moaned out. “w—want you to breed me. want your knot in me.” you began to whine. “want you in me, kento. satoru.”

gojo smirks in delight. “you heard our sweet 'mega. na-na-mi.” his name in a sing-song voice mockingly. nanami sighs.

nanami swallows thickly. spreading your thighs in a delicate manner while he kneels in front of your clothed cunt. he can already taste you by the scent of your pussy. he scowls at the idiot above him who is currently unbuttoning your blouse one by one. letting your breast free and being engulfed in his large palms. fondling the soft flesh and tweaking your hardened buds between his fingers.

“don't you dare fucking mark her.” he warns at his elder but who knows. gojo just simply smile at him.

this isn't what he had in mind when he's going to taste his mate omega for the first time. he had it laid out. the utmost care and making you feel loved and deserved and worshipped by him instead he has to take care of your heat along with the idiot. the rough pads of his fingers glides through the expanse of your flesh. goosebumps rising at places where his fingers made contact along with the whine of being needy for him. hooking the bands of your panties with his fingers and slowly sliding the garment down to your legs and placing it in his pockets.

your fat pussy is drenched with your slick. your hole drips at the slightest stimulation. he parts your pussy lips with his fingers and before he knew it. he's taking the biggest lick of your sopping cunt. your reaction was the best. never leaving the sight out of your face morphing into one of a euphoric expression. “ken!” you screamed. “m—more please.” you requested and nanami gratefully obliged already addicted at the taste of your slick.

his hand squeezes your soft belly while the other one holds your thick thigh perched in his shoulder while he ate you out. each suck getting harsher and more obscene noises of your pussy being devoured by him. your breathy moans engulfed by his lips as much as nanami hates it, you needed it to give your needs.

you were still needy after orgasm after orgasm with his tongue and he needed to stop with your heat temporarily quenched even his desire is already to breed you at the spot but a man like him finds it improper. wanting to mark you and claim as his mate but it gets impossible when there's another alpha in the room like him.

he just need to get rid of him. sooner or later.

#꩜ ⋮ shai's thirst/drabbles⸝⸝#chubby reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x chubby reader #jjk x reader #nanami kento x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo smut #nanami smut #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #nanami kento #a/b/o verse #a/b/o

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houserautha · 3 days

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Feyd is the type to go on and on about getting his wife/partner pregnant but when it comes to actually raising a child? The dramaaaaaa(and unhealed trauma) Ideally Feyd wants to raise a strong and ruthless warrior worthy of succeeding him when the time comes but like what if the little guy(probably a boy bc the prophecy and all that)just got real unlucky in the genetics lottery all the crazy and bloodthirsty-ness his parents have just skips a generation and he's the most sensitive and shy creature to ever be born on geidi prime the most un-harkonen harkonen Feyd getting frustrated his child doesn't have the strength to pick up a sword without trembling,to shed blood without wincing,to take a life without crying canonically I think he'd just throw the kid in the woods to fend for himself Sparta style and hope they die or return and be "normal" thinks he's been coddled for far too long because he just can't accept his son is so different from him sorry to dump all this on you dude I just had to talk to this to somebody!😭💀

Wait don’t apologize I actually really love this

Feyd would be incredibly insecure about fatherhood. He would struggle to connect with a newborn and swear that his son hates him because he always bursts into tears whenever Feyd picks him up. And as a toddler?? Feyd is already as volatile as a toddler so his son would infuriate him😂 I feel like he would snap and be impatient and frustrated. And maybe because he feels so insecure about his parenting/relationship with his son, he throws himself into work so that he doesn’t have to interact with his son as much

So his son grows up with a pretty explosive, absent father. Now he’s a child, and Feyd shows an interest in him again — it’s time to learn how to fight. Feyd spars with his son until his body is mottled with bruises and snot dries on his upper lip; Feyd is appalled by his son’s “weakness” and so shocked that he lashes out at him. Feyd definitely does not understand how to regulate his emotions or disguise his thoughts.

(Now, feel free to disregard this part because it’s related to TDE) Reader knows what it’s like to have your parents disappointed in you and your capabilities, so she nurtures her son and encourages him to do what he likes. I think it would be especially funny if their son is like naturally very tall and strong but is like Ferdinand and just wants to sit in the sun and read all day😂

So reader allows their son to pursue his interests — reading and politics and academics, which he excels in. He grows into a teenager. Other children his age mock him because he is so unlike any other Harkonnen, tease him that his mother must’ve been unfaithful. Their son, in turn, keeps to himself and doesn’t have any friends.

At this point I think Feyd (sadly) would’ve given up on his son. He would occasionally force him to take up a dagger or throw a punch, claiming that no son of his would be so weak. Now, as much as the son loathes these training sessions and his father’s cruelty, he desperately wants his approval. Which is the only reason he continues to agree to let Feyd push him to the dirt over and over again, to draw blood; to belittle him.

And this would drive a wedge in between Feyd and reader’s relationship. She understands Feyd’s own unresolved trauma and the Harkonnen battle culture, but she doesn’t understand how her husband could be so unkind to their son — who looks like a combination of them both, with Feyd’s plush lips but your distinct Atreides nose, brows always pulled down in concentration over his dark eyes.

“He will never survive here,” Feyd snarls at you one evening, when the conversation naturally drifts to your son as it always does. Feyd is shaking with his heightened emotions. “I just want him to be successful.”

And you push back, “He is successful.“

“His achievements mean nothing to the other Harkonnens. They demand brutality and blood, not his…weakness.”

And maybe as their son turns eighteen (or whatever age Harkonnens are deemed an adult, maybe younger because they don’t live very long lives) Feyd sends their son on the ceremonial journey into the Giedi Prime wilderness. Reader is unable to prevent this. Their son is expected to forge his own way home or perish. Now, their son takes an abnormally long time to return but he does — half dead because he refused to kill any wildlife or steal from others, surviving only on his wit and his knowledge of survival.

Feyd is not impressed.

And maybe this strenuous relationship continues well their son’s adulthood. It’s not until a political rival challenges Feyd that he discovers just how strong his son is. The rival is peaceful and refuses to fight or draw a weapon, and Feyd knows he can’t initiate an attack without suffering the consequences. He entirely has no idea how to handle this. But his son does.

His son knows all about this rival’s culture and history, how to appeal to them, how to navigate their political court and ultimately subdue the threat that they pose. For the first time, Feyd is proud of his son.

And thus begins the turn around of their relationship and Feyd realizing that strength does not always have to be physical. His son is probably in his late twenties/early thirties by now and Feyd takes to teaching his son less aggressive ways to fight — poison and pressure points and defensive measure — and allows his son to teach him about what he knows.

It certainly doesn’t blossom and thrive overnight. They are staunchly opposed to each other’s beliefs but somewhat begrudgingly begin to trust one another and build respect and admiration.

Feyd doesn’t know how to apologize or how to express his guilt over his son’s wasted childhood, but you bet your ass he leaps to his son’s defense whenever he gets the chance and defends him relentlessly.

And, oh, just wait until he becomes a grandfather.

Finally he feels he can rectify his wrongs.

#wow okay there’s a whole history lesson for you #I took this and just fucking ran with it #I actually love this idea so much #and they name their son Brutus #and he is the most gentle spirit #feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #dune #feyd rautha harkonnen #these destined ends

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theminecraftbee · 10 hours

Note

okay you saying Three and Grian would clash makes me wanna see a multi-dimensional smash up where they meet

I MEAN SAME, one of my most self-indulgent desires is this, and i'm trying to remember if i've talked about this before on the blog or just rambled to my friends about it, lol. because it would be INTERESTING. there would be a lot of emotions going on there, it'd be messy!

because like, okay. so on grian's end: three is very clearly the bad ending, to him. this is the ending where the watchers erase grian and leave behind a strange little weapon who does stuff like "starts following orders when stressed", which is like, in grian's mind, the opposite of grian's behavior. and yeah, sure, three insists it isn't grian, but that doesn't make that not fucked up to grian, and probably also like... i don't know how good grian would be at seeing past that, you know? (bonus points if this grian is, himself, a standard "grian is a watcher who left" construction, because, you know, woof.)

but meanwhile, three like, has known identity hangups about grian. three would already be in a frustrated state of "i am NOT grian though" like, from the jump. but three would ALSO be forced to look at the version of the world where grian stuck around. and in some ways, three would look at that and see all the things its existence prevents, which would suck! but it would ALSO be a scenario where... so the thing is, the only version of grian that three knows is the posthumous version. the version that got lionized in death. this idealized image of the man. and i feel like three would see grian and find him... disappointing, in comparison, because ANYONE would be! but that'll also sure be a Thing.

(additional bonus points: grumbot. things that are DEFINITELY on the list of "things three didn't do in its own timeline and if mumbo did three treated wildly differently", and also on the list of "so do you think the human weapon with identity issues might identify with that robot or what" and also given that the rift remains one of the easiest crossover excuses on hermitcraft, oh man, oh boy. anyway.)

how would this end? I DON'T KNOW. i haven't managed to actually WRITE this self-indulgent thing although i have looked at all my friends with wide sad eyes about it in case any of them do, lol. but rest assured I HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT THIS GREATLY.

#answered #solving counting sheep talk #iconicanemone

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charliesgoodboy · 14 hours

Text

𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫

a female reader fic❤

𝙏𝙊𝙈 𝙆𝘼𝙐𝙇𝙄𝙏𝙕

why did people act as if it was so difficult to pleasure a woman? it wasn't hard, and how could people be so stupid to tell if she was or wasn't faking it. tom knew and could tell easily, and with that he could always adjust himself mid-round. wasn't difficult, so why did people act like it was? i mean he was a pornstar, but still.

you were as well, more of a rookie to be fair. you were the type of star only a few people would notice watching or scrolling past some videos on the hub or whatever site they used. it made you fair enough money, but not a shit load like tom kaulitz made. no one really knew how he blew off so fast. was it his looks? his voice?

it had been known to fake orgasms or make them seem overdone simply for the entertainment of the viewer. but the stars who were with tom? even the men said he had something others didn't, he knew exactly what he was doing and didn't just stick his tip in you expecting you to moan out on it like a bitch.

but you, out of all people was told to collaborate with him? with tom fucking kaulitz? they had to be messing with you, they just had to be. but they weren't, and a week flew by you were on a way more expensive set than the ones you were usually used to. the lighting was perfect, camera's at good angles instead of on guys just winging it. and there he was.

he was looking all pretty sitting there, a bottle of water in his hands as he had been sitting there waiting for you. for you. it was like your heart had stopped completely, how could you have fallen for him already? simply no way..he was just sitting there!

you hadn't really exchanged words, only understandings of what you were told to do when the cameras were shut on. to you, it was pretty basic. you would be there with clothes on, feel eachother up with a bit of kisses and then..sex. that was about it. right?

absolutely not. when the cameras started it went as planned, his fingers feeling up on your body softly, yours doing the same. his lips would come in contact with the skin of your neck, softly kissing and nibbling. this..this was fairly new. usually they just went right into it but he was so soft with it. it actually felt good.

oh but poor you..you got caught in his little trap just like honey. he had switched up almost the moment you had your body relax. his fingers would come to tug at your hair roughly, as his small kisses turned into bites along your pretty neck. clothes were ripped off as you instantly had your head shoved into the white cotton pillows. his two fingers would be shoved into your mouth, almost hitting your gag reflex you barely had anymore.

"be good and suck." you couldn't lie, it was his voice that captivated you. your lips and tongue had almost moved on their own, and you were coating his digits with saliva. he'd pull away, a string of spit connecting from your mouth to his finger tips. he'd rub up along your folds, slowly becoming wet on their own from the excitement coursing through your veins.

he had given no mercy, coming to shove his wet fingers into your entrance. "aw..poor girl, i can feel you clenching around me already, how cute." his fingers teased for a moment, each thrust he'd tease and purposely miss your spot that you at least wanted him to graze. your hips tried to push back onto him, yet his grip on your hair tightened. "ah-ah, don't act stupid now." he'd tut, shaking his head as if he was some disappointed teacher.

you had never felt so embarrassed..your eye liner they had given you smeared all over your face from tears, and your clit was throbbing from how hard he was going on you. how long had it been? how long had his dick been relentlessly going at your prostate, feeling like it was bruising. very unrealistic but thats what it felt like. the camera was catching almost every facial expression of yours, and gosh you couldn't even look at it like you were supposed to. "such a pretty girl, yeah? mhm..smile at the camera." his hands would grab at your jaw forcing you to look at the lense.

"hng— tom, tom please i can't.." his head would tilt a little, his hips coming up to thrust as slick and cum dripped down between your thighs, and he'd hold it there. "shh, i know i know." he'd place a 'loving' kiss on your cheek before you heard a womans voice yell cut.

i wrote this in school ya'll better like it

@tomssexdoll @tokio-motel @cherry-rawr @20doozers @itsmealaiah @evieskiesss

#tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel smut #tom kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz x reader #tokio hotel fluff #gustav tokio hotel #gustav x reader #georg listing smut #georg listing x reader

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cvntyworld · 1 day

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wasteland survival guide ( maximus )

summary: you didn't trust easy, but the unconscious man on your porch was way too pretty to let die, and you were way too curious as to why someone from that cult known as the brotherhood would have collapsed on your door in need of help and expecting you to help was an even more insane point of view.

contents: usual fallout shenanigans, violence, gore, black cat and golden retriever energy, max has a tooth lodged in his shoulder like he does in the show, reader pointed a gun at max, awkward tensions as max doesn't know what tf he's doing, fast burn, kissing, ect...

dedicated to: @fallout-girl219

You've learned two things about the man who you found collapsed on your front porch, his name is Maximus, Max for short, and he was a part of the brotherhood of steel, a cult, in your honest opinion.

Why you had helped him, you still weren't sure about that just yet, maybe it was the fact he was in the way and you would have to step over him every time you entered your house or exited it. You would have to listen to his cries of complaint, desperate for help as his sleeve became a red stain from the wound in his arm. So you decided to help, for once, you had plenty of stim packs and he would get better in no time with one of them. You had dragged him inside pathetically, nearly tripping on the final step when you finally got him into your house.

He had a tooth lodged in his shoulder, rotten and yellow, you had removed it with tweezers and stuck the needle from the stim pack into the open wound and then after seconds, he had woken up with a jolt whilst you turned your back for a mere second, too busy shoving the box back into your cabinet and locking it.

You had heard the thump and turned sharply, your gun pointed at the man who had fallen off your coach with a painful groan, clutching his arm as he sat up and stared at you with a look of worry when he saw the gun you're pointing right at his head. He held his hands up, as you continued to point your weapon, "If I lower this, you're not gonna try anything stupid, are you?" He shakes his head, staring widely as you lowered the gun and in turn held out your hand for him to take, he was surprised at your strength, managing to get him onto his feet with a single pull of his hand.

He was suddenly in your space and so you step back, a little cautious of his taller frame, he could win a fight if he'd chosen to be hostile, but instead he had held out a hand for you to shake to which you agreed. "Thanks for uhh... not letting me die on your porch." He says with a wave of awkwardness in his tone, "I'm Max, Maximus." You let go of his hand with a shrug, "I'm Y/N." You were quick to reply, and he nodded at you with a smile.

"Well, thank you, Y/N, for your hospitality... You don't get a lot of that these days, especially towards brotherhood of steel members." You shrug at him dismissively, sitting down on your worn out couch, "I'm not the biggest fan, no offence, but, I'm not that cruel, I wouldn't leave your ass to bleed out in my yard." He tried to laugh, but your dislike towards the brotherhood made him frown with a look of disappointment. "I don't mean to pry but why do you dislike them? Surely there's a reason." You shrug out of laziness, and turn to face him, "Well, for one, it is such a cult full of military wannabes who think they're gonna save the world or something like that when what they're actually doing is making shit ten times worse." Max was taken aback by your words, sure there were a few truths to your words but the first point made him forget what else had been said so far.

"The brotherhood isn't a cult."

The two of you grew silent, Max had a frown on his face, offended at your words, and then after fully letting it sink in what he had said, you laughed. Your lungs burned out from the breaths you inhaled, trying to get air as you had continued to laugh at his reaction and his words and the man in front of you went even further to prove how you'd offended him by crossing his arms. "What's so funny?" Is the first thing he asks when you finally calm down and it finally makes you turn to him with a shrug, "Most people who are in a cult usually don't know they're in one." Max's lips part to speak and then he falters, "That's a very good point but the brotherhood still isn't a cult."

"It definitely is." You reply bored, "No, it isn't!" He fires at you with an annoyance. "You know, considering I saved your life, the least you can do is agree with me." You're aware he's becoming a little annoyed by you disagreeing with him and so he stands up, "I'm gonna go now." You nod at him, "That would be great, thank you!"

He hovers in place, "I'm leaving now!" He says but still is unmoving, looking rather unsure when you crossed your arms and raised a brow at him, "The doors right there, I'd see you out but I gotta clean this blood off my couch." At your words, Max frowns and glances at the door, "I'll get going then!" He moves a few steps towards the door and then pauses when you scoff, "You've yet to get out of my house, you lost your sense of direction, pal?"

"Can I kiss you?" He asks randomly, "Excuse me?" You're quick to ask with a raised brow. "Can I kiss you?" He asks again, this time a little more awkwardly. "Thought there's some sort of rule in your cult, no sex before marriage or something like that?" He shakes his head, "We're allowed but the brotherhood doesn't exactly allow girls to join us back at base, it's forbidden." He explains and then stares at you suddenly with wide eyes, "Oh, my god, it is a cult!" He exclaims and you laugh breathily, "Told you so..." Max takes a step closer to you now, toe to toe, as he looks at you softly, "Can I still kiss you, even though I'm in a cult?" He asks unsurely and you answer by pressing your soft lips to his, catching him off guard as he suddenly rocked back onto his heels slightly when you parted your lips, a grin on your features at his flustered face, "That answer your question?"

"Yes, yes it does."

#fallout #fallout tv show #fallout tv series #maximus fallout #fallout maximus #maximus x reader #maximus #we need more max fics out here #he's literally a sweetheart

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tsams-confessions · 1 day

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Hey guess what? Some of us were here back when this show first started. Meaning back when it was just Sun and Moon, and Eclipse was only hinted at. That means that some of us were big fans of Sun. I know, shocker. Which means we were heavily invested in his story and his journey as a character. Which in turn means that we're disappointed, maybe even angry, at how he's always side-lined for other characters. And here's something even more shocking. We're allowed to be mad about it! We're allowed to talk about it! And...we're even allowed to make theories about Sun! I know, how cringey, right? I'm so sick and tired of seeing new fans come here and sneer down their noses at Sun fans. I've been seeing it more and more this past year especially. Just because you started watching this show because you like Solar or Blood Moon or whatever the fuck, doesn't mean everyone else feels the same. How is it that I see constant theory posts and vent posts and such about all the other characters, but any time someone talks about Sun then there's at least one stupid little comment in return. We get it, you don't like Sun, or you like him as a background character. You unironically call it the "Solar and Moon Show" with your whole damn chest. But we've been here long before you, and we have loved Sun for two goddamn years, and we're allowed to be angry or sad about how his story has been left unsaid and forgotten. Stop being sarcastic and condescending to us, because we do see you. We're entitled to our opinions and rants about our "fave" just as much as you are. This is a damn confession blog, where we all confess things and give our opinions. Stop calling out toxicity in the fandom and then being toxic yourself.

#sun and moon show #the sun and moon show #tsams #sams #tsams confession #< block this if you dont want to see these #mod 1blood

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tojiscursedtool · 1 day

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Hellooo, can you make a ftm! Reader x Toji comfort where reader has been feeling down due to dysphoria and feels he’s not enough for Toji and Toji notices this and comforts him abt it?

Feel free to delete/ignore this! :3

Also, i lof ur writings

⋆˚࿔ 🌊 . 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Note ~ of course! Thank you so much, I’m glad you like them! (^○^) DM me if you want any changes or smth please! I just wrote off what I thought would be short and sweet💔

MENTIONS — Fluff/Comfort, SFW, FTM!Reader, body dysmorphia, overthinking.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You and Toji had plans to go out to a friend of yours party, it wasn’t anything major just a hangout for friends. As you were getting ready you looked at yourself in the mirror, placing your hands on your face feeling..icky about yourself. You began judging yourself, feeling like you didn’t look manly enough, how you felt like you didn’t fit into the male standards. You then began to start overthinking if Toji even loved you for you or if he thought you were just some ‘girl’ and not really a man. You were thinking the worst as those thoughts started to flood your head.

As you looked at yourself once more you viewed your body and even tried talking to yourself to hear your voice, you felt like you didn’t sound like a man enough. Like you weren’t enough for Toji in general, you sat on the floor burying your face into your hands as big tears fell down onto your hands. You were crying..shit after all that effort of getting ready to..that didn’t really matter to you though, you just wanted to be reassured that you were just over thinking and that you are a man. You are something.

To Toji you are his everything, you may not think it or may think poorly on yourself but he really does love you. You didn’t notice it until you felt Toji behind you wrapping his arms around you laying his head on your shoulder, he was looking at you with a slightly concerned voice but he suddenly spoke in a calm quiet tone, “hey, it’s okay. ‘m here, tell me what’s wrong.” He’d bring you in a tight embrace looking at you waiting for a response, he didn’t rush you but he wanted to know what was wrong with his boyfriend so he sat there patiently holding you into his arms as you then spoke in a awfully quiet, bothered, sad tone..

“I just uh..I don’t feel like i’m right. I feel out of place. My body I mean..I uh..” you paused mid sentence looking down, your breath was a bit shaky as you were still crying trying to keep your composure. You opened your mouth to speak once more but nothing came out, your mouth was left open, agape. He was also quiet, you then broke the silence by explaining how you felt, “I feel like you don’t really view me as a man like..no one does. I just look at myself and feel so disappointed. It’s tiring.” You slowly looked up at him, “I’m not good enough for you, I feel like I don’t really belong I’m just here for..no reason?”

The room was quiet for a few minutes after you had spoke, he gave you some time to think and calm down a little before he spoke softly. “No reason? I love ya’ very much, Y/N. Looking at you makes me happy knowing I’m dating such a handsome man.” He brushed your hair out of your face as he wiped any tears you had on your face, “I don’t care what ya’ are or want to be, I’ll b’ here for you. I don’t tend to say it much..I show it through action more than my words.” He loosened himself around you as he stood up and helped you get up, he looked at you with a serious genuine look, “we don’t have to attend that party with your friend, I want to spend time with you, is that okay?”

You nodded looking at him with a slight smile feeling a bit better but had some doubts about yourself but before you could even finish your thoughts he spoke up again just to reassure you to make sure he didn’t miss anything, “you are very worth it to me, I assure you there ‘s nothing wrong with ya’, you are just feeling doubt and down about yer’self and I understand. Though I may not understand yer struggle I understand it can be hard for you. And that’s perfectly fine, but you aren’t a girl, I don’t see you that way, at all.” He placed his hand on the side of your face and then kissed your cheek.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

#male!reader #jjk x male reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #x reader #ftm reader #ftm!reader #jjk x ftm reader #toji x ftm!reader #toji x you #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #comfort #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jujutsu toji #jjk fluff #fluff

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johnwickb1tsch · 6 hours

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The Bastard’s Mistress ~ A Don John x Servant!Reader Fic

So I caught the don John brain rot this weekend…very contagious, 10/10 recommend. This might be @scarlettspectra ’s fault, from all her beautiful gifs she’s been posting!😆 I didn’t go full Shakespearean here but had some fun with the syntax. I apologize in advance. Reader is properly deferential for the time, but she’s got a little spunk.😬

Warnings: the line between dubcon and noncon here is VERRRY thin. I don’t even know. So if that bothers you do NOT read this! What else. Period correct misogyny and degradation. Corruption. I’m so bad at itemizing these things. Please take care. If u have squiks i probs wouldn’t read this…

You are a chambermaid in His Excellency don Alejandro’s hacienda. It gives you a certain distance from things, as you come and go, doing your best to keep the country house clean and stay out of sight. But don Alejandro’s bastard, the fire-eyed boy with such a burning contempt for the world, has always seen you.

When you were young children, don John would play with you all, the offspring of the servants who were too young to work. Not because he enjoyed your company, but because he delighted in ordering you all about. Luckily in those days he ignored you as often as he tormented you.

Then there was a time, when the two of you hovered on the precipice between childhood and adult responsibilities, that you had almost been friends. Or at least, not enemies. He, the bitter outsider with the privileges of a full blooded son, but none of the standing. You, unmoored in your fatherlessness, the fever having taken your sire when you were just a babe.

Don John goaded you into shirking your chores one day to go play in the hills. He’d only taunted you a little, as you played your silly games, which mostly consisted of him manipulating you, ordering you to do this and that, always testing just how far he could go before being met with rebellion. It was still better than working your hands raw in the laundry. “We should run away,” he’d said in that devil-may-care way brash young boys have, so sure the world is destined to fold for them. You, however, had begged to go home, for all it won you. Upon returning your mother absolutely tanned your backside, and you never associated with Don John in such a familiar way again.

You saw him around the grounds, of course, as you scurried from one backbreaking chore to the next, and as he went through the motions of learning how to become a gentleman. Amidst his riding lessons he would wink at you from astride his fine black horse, but the cruel turn of his mouth never failed to halt you in returning it, even if your heart quickened in your chest.

That did not mean you didn’t think of him later though, on your lumpy cot of straw, as urges began to awaken in your body that was well on its way to becoming a woman’s. You saw his face at night, so achingly handsome you could hardly contain your longing. It felt like madness, and so you shoved it down in the deepest dungeon of your heart, as far as it could go.

It was not helpful, or good, the times when young don John passed you in the halls, and you felt that he would like to just eat you up. He would tug at your apron strings with a smirk before striding on to whatever lark he plotted for the day. The unholy feelings just a look from that man called up in you had you reaching for your rosary–and late at night, when all others lay asleep, between your legs.

You’d felt a certain relief when he went off to war with don Pedro. Even though your heart ached for the inevitable change, a part of you hoped he would never return.

As it turns out, your hopes were not to be realized. He has returned to his father’s country house, on the tails of some scandal in Messina. His temper is even fouler than you remember. His scowl, crueler. He has met with some disappointment, out in the world. You hope he will not take it out on you blameless servants.

Perhaps that is too much to ask of the upper caste.

You feel his eyes upon you again, as in the old days, but different. There is a weight in his gaze that makes you uncomfortable in your own skin, as though it no longer fits upon your own bones. It makes you ache for something no pious unmarried girl should yearn for, something you cannot name, only feel in the darkest hours of night when you lay awake on your mattress of straw, your sinful fingers exploring the bud of flesh between your legs.

You decide don John carries the flames of Hell in his burning dark eyes.

You dream of him, as though he has possessed your flesh in your sleeping hours.

He corners you one day, as you are changing the linens in one of the many airy rooms of the hacienda. You eye him warily, as he shuts the door, his large and forbidding form blocking your exit. His dark eyes upon you are black as night.

“What a flower you have blossomed into, y/n,” he muses, stepping slowly into the room with the measured calculation of a predator stalking prey. “No longer the knees and elbows girl I remember.”

“You…have also changed, my lord,” you offer cautiously. No longer the awkward, rail thin youth, his shoulders have the breadth of a man who rides a charger and wields a sword. You have tried not to notice.

“How so?” he fishes, canting his head with a smirk.

Your face feels as though you have caught on fire. “You are…taller,” you offer, winning a cruel little chuckle.

“Oh? I do like the sound of that. What else?” Another step closer, his booted heel clicking on the floor, and you are veritably boxed in between the walls and the oversized bed.

“My lord?” you stall, mortified.

“Did you miss me, y/n?”

This question also takes you aback, and perhaps that is why you answer honestly.

“Sometimes.”

“Well. That is more than any of my relations here will bother to claim,” he answers bitterly. In that moment you still see a boy just striving, yearning for his father’s recognition. Perhaps it was ridiculous, but you always felt bad for him, in a way.

“Did you hear the happy news? Don Pedro has taken a wife, and opts to dwell in Messina,” snarls don John with a mocking brightness.

“How…fortunate for him.”

The man before you makes a sound that suggests he barely restrained himself from spitting upon the floor in his half brother’s name.

“Indeed.” He takes one more step, and you know you are done for, your heart in your chest. There will be no escaping now. “What of you, fair y/n? Assumed the yoke of marriage yet?” The disdain in his words hangs bitter in the air.

You are tempted to lie, but know no good should come of it. “No, my lord,” you answer, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

“How fortunate for you.”

Perhaps in your fear, you forget yourself. “John, please–”

He moves to strike, and you are but a rabbit in the jaws of a wolf, quick but not quick enough to evade him. His arm is like a band of iron about your waist, lifting you off the floor in his fury. He slams you down–albeit upon the feather mattress–a luxury you’ve never experienced for yourself, your back accustomed to scratchy tick straw.

“Insouciant wench! How familiar you are, to address me so.” He sounds so cruelly delighted by it, wedging his lean body like a knife between your legs, his narrow hips locked against yours. When you attempt to sit up he easily pins you down, his large hand spanning two of your wrists with ease, his other pressed lightly over your throat. You can hardly hear, hardly think, over the sound of your heartbeat thundering in your ears. He can surely feel it in your pulse, fluttering against his fingers. You are filled with fear–and the sharp ache of desire, God save you.

“Please, my lord…”

He makes a low sound in his throat, his lips tracing your jaw. “Please what, pretty maid? I have a mind to make a meal of you.”

“Please…don’t hurt me.”

“Hurt you? That is up to you, my dear. I will have you. Sweetly, or by force, tis your choice.” Your heart lodges in your throat. Your mother warned you about this, time and again. Men are dogs and gentlemen the worst of them. Never let them catch you alone.

And in your darkest heart of hearts, you know that a part of you hoped don John might do just that.

He kisses the corner of your mouth, surprisingly gently for such a villain, but you attempt to turn away. It only wins his annoyance, his large hand turning your face back to him. Before he can press his mouth to yours you say, “You merely seek to make sport of me in your boredom here. It is not right.”

He laughs at that. “Sport, I shall make,” he muses, hiking your skirts above your thighs. “Let us test the truth of your righteous outrage?” Boldly his fingers climb the trail of your leg, to the apex where he finds the damning evidence of your treacherous loins. “My lovely girl, so wet for such a reluctant quarry.” His long fingers dip inside your weeping center, and the sound you make does not resemble protest at all. He smirks down at you like the very devil. “And a virgin my little rabbit is not.”

Javi the stableboy took care of that for you, in a quick and disappointing tumble in the hay. His touch…had felt nothing like this, if truth you tell.

Ashamed, and burning, you look away. Tears trail out of your eyes, and a part of you wishes it shall just be over soon. He frowns at the shining tracks of water upon your cheeks, a menacing scowl that makes your eyes screw shut tight.

“Do not seek to engage my sympathy or my better nature, for you know I have none,” he growls above the dip of your throat, his lips searing as a brand upon your chest.

“That wasn’t always true,” you dare, winning naught but a growl from this ravenous beast of a man above you.

“You are the only one who thinks so.” For the barest moment you see a flash of vulnerability in his eyes–the ghost of the memory of the boy he once was, there and gone like ripples in a pool. It is as though this second of softness spurs him on in his deed, as though he must shove it aside to enjoy his sordid pleasure.

Clever fingers tear at the laces of your stays; you are freed to breathe, but you are bared to his hungry gaze as he tugs down your shift for his delectation. “Such lovely fruits, just ripe for picking,” he muses, cupping your breast in his hand, suckling upon a nipple.

You never knew how such a thing could make your insides clench, your sinning cunt tightening in its aching emptiness. Your hips move against his of their own accord, your legs wrapping about him as you mindlessly seek some relief from this madness. He withdraws with a dramatic pop, laughing at your body’s treachery.

“You are a fiend.”

“Pray, tell me,” he taunts you.

“I hate you.”

“Is that any way to speak to your master?”

He is enjoying this far too much.

“You forget your place, don John, as ever.”

That is when he slaps you. Not hard, nay, your own mother has hit you harder, but it certainly gets your attention. “I will rule here someday, y/n. Have a care with that tongue. I can think of better uses for it.” His piercing eyes fix upon your lips, a moment before he falls upon you, kissing you as though he means to devour you. You tense, thinking to bite him for being so cruel, so conniving, for just using you for no other reason other than he can.

He plays a very dirty trick on you, though.

That dexterous hand slips under your skirts again, swiping up your slick before circling that small nub of flesh that causes you such great tumult and shame. You moan into his mouth, and you feel him smile wickedly against you.

This man is the very devil, you are sure of it.

“Now who is ready to forget?” he taunts you, rubbing you in slow circles that drive you mad, make you writhe for the unbearable tightness coiling between your legs.

You can only manage a small cry, words escaping you. You’ve never felt anything like this, not at your own hands, and certainly not with Javi the stableboy.

“Please,” is all you can manage, and you’re not even entirely sure you know what you’re begging for.

“I like to hear you beg so sweetly.” He reaches to free himself from his breeches, his swollen tip hovering at your entrance. “So beg, wench, what favour is it you ask of me?”

You should entreat him to leave you be–you should beg for his mercy. But the delicious weight of him atop you, this dastardly man whose touch is such sweet sin–you are not sure you wish for him to leave you be. Your whole life has been such a march of drudgery. Even just the possibility of feeling something that is not pain or exhaustion makes you willfully forget every lesson your mother ever taught you, every fiery sermon the Padre ever flung down from his pulpit. Tis easy to renounce the Devil, until temptation has you in its clutches.

“I know not what to ask for,” you answer cautiously, and that at least is true.

Don John smirks down at you, a wicked gleam in his dark eyes.

“Ask for my cock, you stupid girl, and if your quim pleases me perhaps I may be moved to share in the spoils.”

“Yes.” You strain your hips towards him, craving that satisfying, stretching burn of a man’s first thrust. That, atleast, you know something about.

“Yes, what?” he taunts you, delighting in your torment as he holds himself just out of reach.

“Yes, my lord,” you whimper, hating yourself as much as him in that moment. “May I have your cock?”

His smile widens in his devilish delight, almost showing teeth. “Remember that you asked for it.” But he taunts you no further, his thick head penetrating your weeping hole, the fullness of him stealing the very breath from your lungs. He groans once fully inside you, burying his face in your neck.

“I’ve always known you would have the sweetest little cunt in the sierra,” he growls against your skin, and he begins to thrust.

If there is one thing you have always known about don John, it is that he loves to hear himself talk.

“You are mine, little maid,” he goes on, filling you so deeply you fear he must be in your belly. You are not sure you like it, and you only whimper in answer, straining for a better angle against him, seeking that certain friction that made you see stars.

“Say it,” he demands, understanding what you seek very well. You whine, turning your eyes to the ceiling. You know you are a mere peasant, and you know you do not own anything, much less yourself. Yet some small defiance rises in you, for his demanding tone.

“Perhaps I shall, if you make it so.”

You wait for him to strike you again, but to your surprise he smirks with a sort of dark delight, only turning your gaze back to his with a rough hand upon your jaw. “There is the saucy wench I remember of our youth. Do you remember how you used to defy me?”

You don’t very much, recalling that he usually always emerged the master and victor of your games.

“No, my lord.”

“You do not recall striking me with a stick, in defense of a hapless bird?”

You blink, finding it rather unfair of this man to expect you to command the capacity to think in this situation. But then you do recall. You had all been small children. The boys sought amusement in throwing rocks at an injured sparrow. You had taken exception to it.

Don John had sworn he would tell his father and have you executed.

You’d cried for days, but the sword never fell.

You’d nearly forgotten all about it, perhaps willfully burying the memory out of shame and fear. Mostly fear.

The bastard had deserved it.

He never forgot a slight, it seems.

“I always told myself I would have my revenge for that,” he tells you with a smirk, pressing his thumb into your mouth. You try to shrink away, but he has you like a fish on a hook. “Suck,” he commands you. You do not understand why those jetty black eyes boring into yours, paired with that unyielding tone, makes your needy cunt clench around him, only that it is extremely satisfying to see his eyes flutter closed, even if just for a moment.

You do as you’re told.

He uses your own saliva against you, reaching between your legs with that spit-wet thumb to touch you again.

You forget everything else, but the carnal heaven that is his clever fingers with his manhood inside you. The sounds the two of you make are barely human, as you strain and writhe against each other, chasing your release from this hell. Those full lips made for sin devour you–his mouth on your breasts makes you see God, a searing pleasure crashing through you in a spine-cracking rush. How can something that feels so wonderful be so forbidden? Only then does don John truly let himself go, the sound of flesh striking flesh filling the room as he takes you with all his pent up fury. It is not long before he roars his release, filling you with ropes of his hot seed, his powerful body trembling in its tangle of limbs with yours.

For just a moment you wished would last, his fingers lace with yours rather than pin you, his head heavy on your chest as he catches his breath. Yet when he lifts his gaze to you, his eyes gleam with their usual malevolence.

“You will come to my chambers tonight,” he orders you. “For I am not finished with you yet by half.”

When your mouth opens–indeed to give protest–he silences you with a hard but heart-melting kiss, his long fingers tangled unforgivingly in your now loosened hair.

“Do as I say, servant girl. Though if you don’t, I may enjoy making you.” That proud mouth ticks as he seems to imagine it, that fire igniting once more in his mesmerizing eyes. The thought simultaneously makes your blood run cold–and a thrill of desire run raucous down your spine.

This man is the very devil. You are as sure of it now, as you know when the household goes to sleep, you will find your way back to his merciless embrace.

#don john #much ado about nothing #don john x reader #don john keanu reeves #keanu reeves #keanuverse #keanuverse fic

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crimeronan · 2 days

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Oh, the great maker of trauma for the beans that are part of Princess Luz Au, heed my query and answer me:

Did Luz get any big bad evil guy energy or skill from being raised by the waste of space previously known as Belos?

I mean as we all know Luz is a precious bean, but I think she deserves to be a little evil towards bad people, like I assume that Hunter is already planning how to murder (or worse) Amity's parents, even if he isn't fully aware of it/is in denial that he is planning the horrors on the for making Amity, but I stay with me for a moment and imagine the verified cinnamon roll Luz Noceda Wittebane putting the fear of Titan into Odalia after learning that she abused Amity.

Also, her snapping out of it after Odalia faints out of fear (and pain), and panicking that she is just like below only for her parteners to be like, 'nooo~ it was hot normal and perfectly sane thing to do'.

this answer Might be disappointing in some ways, mainly: i don't Think luz would be physically violent with them without provocation, and i also don't think she's likely to lose emotional control around them. she'd want to be just as poised around amity's parents as she always was around belos and always is around the coven heads.

HOWEVER. as for the questions of "does luz know how to be scary" and "did she learn that from belos": UNEQUIVOCAL yes. to both.

i've been wanting to play with luz in this space with amity's parents for A While, actually, so. have a little fic :)

"Oh, Amity is my pride and joy," Odalia says, placing a hand over her heart. "I taught her everything she knows."

"Yes, I did get that impression." The Empress smiles, rising to her feet. "It's incredible how much she's accomplished in spite of you."

Odalia's breath catches around a shocked, bitten-down laugh. "Your Majesty, begging your pardon, I believe you meant 'because of-'"

"In spite of," Luz repeats, very firmly. "It's fortunate that Lilith Clawthorne has taken such an interest in her wellbeing."

Odalia's smile doesn't waver, but it does remain frozen for several seconds before she says, "I suppose Amity feels the need to invent an adversary. Some great trial she overcame to earn her place here. It's understandable. Children often lack the foundation to understand the sacrifices their parents make. She had a very privileged upbringing."

"Amity has never spoken unkindly of either of you," Luz says, although this she seems to mean more for Alador, whose face may give more away.

She steps lightly down the stairs from the throne, joining the pair of them on the ground. "Amity rarely speaks of either of you at all, actually. That isn't why I've called you here."

Odalia's voice turns cool, corporate. "Then how can we help you, Your Majesty?"

"Did you know that Blight Industries has a higher rate of workplace accidents than..." Luz slides a folder out of her tunic, flips it open, and raises her eyebrows. "...any other company on the Isles?"

This time, Odalia's laugh covers something else. "That's - that's preposterous. Our workplace safety records are excellent. Why, we haven't needed a single intervention by the Healing Coven in... oh, is it three years?" She taps the side of her mouth, frowning. "Four? Five?"

"That's fascinating," Luz says. "Not even for a scrape?"

"Abrasions heal quite well by themselves, given time."

"Absolutely fascinating," Luz repeats. "Did you know that it's illegal to purposefully deny people healing services?"

Odalia scoffs, incredulous. "For scrapes?"

"I know," Luz says pleasantly, "I was surprised, too. There are a lot of laws like that, it turns out. Text on paper that hasn't been enforced in half a century. From what I understand, this one is a holdover from early Empire anxieties. People were terribly worried about not having access to personal healing magic anymore. So healing services had to be protected."

Odalia's smile has become more teeth than pleasantry. "What a fun little history lesson. I'm sure you know all sorts of facts about the early Empire."

"It turns out that it's very easy to put laws in writing," Luz says, "without the intention to enforce them. My father, may the Titan bless him, had precious little interest in the rights of individuals to be seen by healers. But this isn't his Empire anymore. And I find the topic just captivating."

Odalia has stopped trying to hide her impatience, now. "So you'll fine us for not having healers on hand to wave away every little paper cut. That's fine. I apologize for the oversight. We'll settle up and make sure that going forward-"

"Mr. Blight," Luz says, ignoring Odalia entirely, "would you kindly remove your gloves for me?"

Alador startles.

Odalia doesn't glance at him. Her eyes are fixed unblinking on Luz. She speaks through her teeth, nearly a hiss. "Don't feel compelled to do that, dear."

"I assure you, I can compel him to do that," Luz says. Then, in a tone that would almost pass for apologetic if it wasn't so practiced, "I am sorry to compel it of you. I try not to compel my subjects very often. But if you find it difficult to remove your gloves, my scouts would be happy to assist you."

The scouts around the base of the throne don't move. Odalia's eyes slide uneasily over them anyway.

"That won't be necessary," Alador says, speaking for the first time. He pulls the gloves off without fanfare, holding up his hands.

Half of his left ring finger and pinky are conspicuously missing.

If Luz is uncomfortable with this revelation, she sure isn't showing it. "Oh, that's so interesting," she says, leaning forward to get a closer look. "The Healing Coven keeps meticulous records, and I'm certain a partial amputation was never reported to them. You were born with all five fingers, yes? I'm sure Amity will attest to that."

"This was from an accident in my personal lab," Alador says, with the mechanical precision of something rehearsed. "The severed digits were not... salvageable."

"It's so amazing that you were able to make that determination," Luz says, "without even needing to consult the Healing Coven. You must be a very proficient magician."

Alador blinks.

"Regardless," Odalia interrupts, "it happened outside of Blight Industries. The company isn't liable. You haven't 'gotten' us."

"Do you ever test Blight Industries products in your personal lab, Mr. Blight?"

"Prototypes," he says.

Odalia makes a sharp, exasperated gesture. "Alador!"

"That seems like company business to me," Luz says, still pleasant, still conversational. "Now, I will be fully transparent, before you accuse me of anything with regards to prejudice - it is true that I hate you both. It is true that I've hated you both for a while now. If you feel like I'm targeting you because I hate you, then you're very astute."

Odalia's fingers twitch, threatening to curl into fists.

Luz continues, "However, it's also true that there is no bias where my judgment is concerned. Not legally, anyway. So it doesn't matter whether I hate you or not. Whatever I decide to do with you is the Titan's will. Government is amazing."

Odalia exhales sharply.

When Luz doesn't waver, she shakes her head. For the first time, her voice cracks - properly cracks. There's a tiny tremble in her hands.

"Amity won't forgive you if anything happens to us," she says - but there's no bravado, no power, only pathetic uncertainty. "Regardless of any... petty grievances she may harbor. Family is everything to a Blight. She won't forgive this."

"I know that," Luz says. "I promise, I have no intention of doing Amity any unkindness. It's not her fault you two have chosen to be what you are."

Another sharp exhale. Odalia's breathing is ragged, audible. She's clearly not a woman accustomed to fearing for her own safety.

"That's fantastic news!" she chirps.

Luz's smile is beatific, magnanimous. The serene expression of someone who's never questioned the divine right of kings.

"Unfortunately, I'm not wholly opposed to doing an unkindness," she says, "if we can't seem to reach an agreement. It's really up to you how this goes."

She looks from Odalia to Alador and back, tilting her head.

"So. How badly do both of you want to live?"

#luz is obviously bluffing in some places here re: her willingness to abuse her own power #but you wouldn't know that without being close to her. she knows what kind of impression matters.#if you want a little fic about her making odalia actually literally fear for her actual literal life. Here We Go!!!!#toh #princess luz au #my writing #lumity #odalia blight #alador blight #luz noceda

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