#you know how art is life. so everything is art
Note
back on my dilf-next-door!art donaldson-
i just know this man is borderline obsessed with you but it makes him feel like a dirty old man to think it so he keeps it to himself (by that i mean his beats off by the window that lets him see into your house)
and when you finally let him hit he nearly blacks out and he cries a little bit because it’s better than he imagined (every night)
the fact that art is as hot as he has the body that he has looks like that is a good person and a good father and kind and just all his tens and yet. he's the one thankful to you - he's held himself off for so long, i think. he's a lover at his core, a divore would shatter his heart - he'd not be ready to move on for some time and he'd devote all of his time to lily. the possibility of a relationship isn't even a thought in his mind - doesn't even grace the stratosphere of his world. he gives himself so fully to others its hard to have anything left over for himself. he spends years in a monotonous rhythm of spending time with lily, building a life for her thats full, building a home she'll be happy to come to when its his turn to have her - even when hes on his own, hes always working - building something - a new bookshelf for the comics lily is into - gardening - the flowers make him feel at ease and lily likes them - a pool - lily likes to swim. he still treats his body like a machine, up every morning, jogging until his lungs are screaming so loud and his heart is beating so hard he can't think of anything else, cant feel the void in his life. cant let himself feel discontent.
he hardly notices hes built a space to share with someone else until you're there - filling it. he realizes he built a home bigger than himself and lily and he doesn't realize how fucking lonely he was until you've been over at his house and you leave and it just feels wrong to sit in the stillness like that. he finds himself having fantasies when he's in the shower and his hand skims down his stomach, cups his dick - usually its a quick almost clinical affair, a bodily function he needs to release - letting his head thump forward to meet the steamed glass in pleasure. his breath fogging - he lets himself think of you, of your body, your skin and your smile and the way you dress everything everything everything - hes moaning his hand gliding up and down up and down. and he imagines your face nuzzling him, how sweet you'd be - on your knees - he thinks you'd suck and lick around his tip - dip your tongue into his slit. he pulls back his foreskin to release the pink head, rubs his thumb over the rubbery skin as he imagines it - imagines the warmth , imagines sinking into it. when he cums his knees quake. he smiles, breathless and like hes a teenager again, because that was the best fucking orgasm of his life.
so yes hes thankful - so fucking thankful when he gets you to stay the night, when he doesn't have to be alone in an empty fucking house and even worse, go to bed by himself. hes damn near whimpering with relief when he presses you back into his sheets and slots between your thighs and the sigh that rattles from him when his body settles over yours comes deep from his very bones. you touch everywhere and its so fucking good. hes hot and hard and slick, sliding against the crease of your thigh - and you gasp, "art. please - "
and he kisses you quiet - stilling himself as he lifts his hips, nudges his cock against the wet slit of your sex and presses - presses in and in and in and he's the one gasping this time, open and wet against your mouth, not even kissing just panting against your lips.
his head drops to your shoulder, his hips rock, and the moan he lets out sounds wet and soft - like he could cry, like hes on the cusp of it. "its so good." he breathes, mouths at your skin, sucking wetly on it, pulling it into his mouth. his teeth graze and its a pain you like. "you're so tight - oh my god."
you legs rise - the insistent nudge back and forth of his hips against yours spreading you, making you want to let him in even more even though hes so. hes so "oh art, you're so deep." hands gliding up the flexing muscles of his back, locking your ankles above his ass, urging him on. in and in and in in in in in. "it feels g - ood. keep - keep going - keep - oh -"
his moan rumbles from his chest, hes pressed so tight against you hes barely pulling out - your pussy squeezing him, sucking on his cock - you dont want him to leave but - you want it faster - you want it. his lips skim the shell of your ear and you gasp when he wraps a hand under your back, lifting you a little, pressing you impossibly closer, his other hand fits down as well, until both his big palms are under you, cupping your ass, molding you to his dick, rocking you against him back and forth up and down again and again and again. "you dont know," he pants, his voice hard and low like gravel, "how long I've needed this."
needed not wanted.
"have it-" you babble, nearly bouncing against him now. letting him maneuver you how he wants up and down on his cock. "its yours, baby, take it - take it-"
the slap of your bodies starts to echo throughout the room - his fucking becoming needier and and needier - his hands on your ass digging in now, gripping and not cupping, dragging not guiding guiding you against him. punching in and out of your cunt helplessly.
"thank you - thank you, thank you fuck - fuck honey. oh fuck -" he sounds tortured and you slide a hand through his damp blonde curls in comfort. can tell by the way he sounds and the way hes fucking you that hes breaking apart, how much he needed this on a fundamental, animal level. it goes beyond just being horny - he's denied himself this for so long - you're letting the band he's let get stretched thinner and thinner, finally snap. snap with the pound of hips crushing yours into the bed in pounding thrusts of his cock inside you. "I'm gonna cum - tell me - tell me to cum inside you. tell me you want my fucking cum filling your pussy."
"i want it, i want it, i want it."
god, you'd make him a dad again. you tell him so, "get me pregnant. I'll make you a daddy again, art, please - just fill me up -"
"FUCK!" the shout comes deep from his gut. ripped from his lungs and then he's at you like an animal, pummeling his hips and the bed is rocking, rocking so hard you know there will be dent in the wall but you dont care you cant stop moaning his name and begging for his cum and holding him to you like you could meld your limbs together.
so glad that you moved next door.
#ask#frens <3#horn knee#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson smut#challengers smut#challengers x reader
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Hard Work, Pays Off || ART DONALDSON
art donaldson x fem!reader
summary: after months and months of trying, it finally happens
tags: married life, husband!art x wife!reader, mentions of sex, exhaustion, tw: throwing up, pregnancy, pregnancy announcement, fluff
____________________________________________
Art Donaldson was exhausted.
He had never been so sexed out in his life. Trying to have a baby was harder than people had realized. Don’t get him wrong, it was very enjoyable, but the lack of sleep was not it.
It seemed like you were craving it. All day, every day. Waking him up in the middle of the night, lips on his neck, hand on his dick. In the shower, in the kitchen, in the car, hell, you almost got kicked out of a restaurant because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.
Art did his best to please you, bending you over wherever possible—pounding into you until you were a trembling mess below him.
He let out a yawn, his hand rubbing his tired blue eyes. His publicist rambled on about the latest endorsement deal, and he was trying to pay attention. It’s just that his voice was soothing, and the room temperature was hitting just right. If he closed his eyes for just a second…
“Art!”
That jolted him awake, almost spilling his to-go cup of coffee all over the table. He blinked rapidly, trying to focus on the stern face of his publicist, Mark.
“Sorry,” Art mumbled, straightening in his seat.
Mark sighed, shaking his head. “You’ve got to keep it together, dude. This deal is important. Nike doesn’t just hand out endorsement deals like candy.”
“I know, I know,” Art said, taking a deep breath and forcing himself to concentrate. “Just send me the details. I have to go.”
He stood up, grabbing his keys. Mark looked like he wanted to argue, but he just nodded, exasperated. Art didn’t wait for a response and headed out the door, eager to get home.
When he opened the door to the house, the sight of you asleep on the couch greeted him. You looked so peaceful, sprawled out with a light blanket covering you. Art’s heart softened as he watched you for a moment, your chest rising and falling with each breath; despite his day's exhaustion and chaos, seeing you like this made everything worth it.
He crept, trying not to wake you, as he set his keys down and shrugged off his jacket. He tiptoed over to you, crouching down to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. You stirred slightly, your eyes fluttering open.
“Hey,” you murmured, a sleepy smile forming.
“Hey,” Art replied softly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s okay,” you said, stretching. “How was your meeting?”
“Long and boring,” he admitted, chuckling. “But it’s over now. How are you feeling?”
You sighed contentedly. “Tired.”
Art smiled, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Why don’t we both take a nap? We could use the rest.
You nodded, shifting to make space for him on the couch. Art lay beside you, wrapping his arms around you as you settled in. The warmth and comfort of having you close began to soothe his tired mind.
—-
Weeks passed, and you still wanted Art every second of every day. It wasn’t even the fact that you both wanted to get pregnant; it was that he looked so good all the damn time. Every glance, every touch, every whisper had you pouncing on him.
This day, however, you woke up feeling off.
The smell of pancakes wafted in from the kitchen, making your stomach uncomfortable. The feeling of nausea danced around in your throat the moment your bare feet touched the cold floor.
As the bile started to creep up, you muttered a curse under your breath. With a hand clasped over your mouth, you darted to your ensuite bathroom, barely reaching the toilet in time. Nausea washed over you in waves as you knelt on the cold tile floor, your stomach heaving uncontrollably.
Retching echoed in the small room, each heave sending a surge of discomfort through your body. Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to catch your breath, the taste of bile lingering on your tongue.
Through the haze of nausea, you heard the sound of hurried footsteps approaching and then Art's concerned voice calling your name.
"Babe, are you okay?" he asked, kneeling beside you and gently touching your back.
You shook your head weakly, unable to form words as another wave of nausea washed over you. Art's hand rubbed soothing circles on your back as you clung to the toilet, feeling utterly drained and miserable.
After what felt like an eternity, the nausea began to subside, leaving you feeling shaky and exhausted. You leaned against the wall, closing your eyes as you tried to steady your breathing.
Art stayed by your side, offering you a glass of water and a damp washcloth to wipe your face. His concern was evident in his eyes as he watched over you, and you felt a surge of gratitude for his presence.
"Thank you," you whispered hoarsely, taking a sip of water and leaning into his comforting embrace.
He kissed the top of your head, his voice soft and reassuring. "What happened? Was it something you ate?
You shrugged weakly, still feeling too queasy to speak. Art's hand rubbed your back soothingly as you tried to collect yourself.
"It's possible," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not sure. I just woke up feeling off."
Art nodded, his brow furrowed with concern. "Do you think you need to see a doctor?"
You hesitated, not wanting to overreact. "I'll see how I feel after a little while. Maybe it's just a stomach bug."
Art nodded again, understanding. He helped you up from the bathroom floor and guided you back to bed, tucking you in gently. You knew deep down that this wasn't a damn stomach bug. Still, you didn't want to get your hopes up after months of trying and facing the same disappointment each time.
"Try to get some rest," he said softly, brushing a stray hair from your face. "I’ll make you some toast.”
The mention of food sent you running to the bathroom again. This was not a stomach bug.
———-
As Art finished packing his tennis bag, his mind ran in circles. You hadn't stopped throwing up in days, only finding respite when you were asleep. The mere mention of anything edible sent you into a spiral that seemed to last for hours.
He was worried. He had to leave town for a stupid challenger that Tashi had signed him up for. Looking at your state, he didn't want to go, but the US Open was approaching. He needed the tournament to qualify.
Art sighed, running a hand through his hair as he glanced back at you, curled up on the couch, looking pale and exhausted. He hated to leave you like this, but his career was on the line.
"Hey," he said softly, kneeling beside you and taking your hand. "Say the word, and I’ll stay.”
You looked up at him, your eyes filled with fatigue and uncertainty. "You have to go," you whispered hoarsely.
"I know," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "I don't want to leave you like this."
"But you have to," you insisted, squeezing his hand weakly. "You’ve worked so hard this season, don’t mess it up because of me. I'll be fine. I promise."
Art searched your eyes momentarily, finding the determination and strength he loved about you. He stood up with a heavy heart, leaning down to kiss your forehead gently.
"I'll call you every chance I get," he promised. "And I'll be back before you know it. Take care of yourself, okay?"
You nodded, offering him a weak smile as he grabbed his bag and headed for the door. Watching him go, you felt a mix of sadness at being alone and pride in his dedication to his career.
As the door closed behind him, you waited a few minutes before jumping from the couch. You went into your shared bathroom, hands shaking in anticipation as you grabbed the pregnancy test from the bathroom cabinet.
This is it. All the signs were there.
Throwing up? Check.
Sore nipples? Check.
Late period? Check.
Horny 24/7? Check.
You took a deep breath, trying to steady your shaking hands as you unwrapped the pregnancy test. Your mind raced with emotions—hope, fear, excitement, and uncertainty. You knew deep down that this could be the moment you had been waiting for.
After following the instructions, you waited anxiously for the results. The minutes felt like hours as you stared at the test, willing to show the desired answer.
Finally, the moment of truth arrived. You looked down at the test, your heart pounding in your chest. And there it was, clear as day—two pink lines.
Tears welled up in your eyes as you sank to the floor, overwhelmed with emotion. You were going to have a baby. All the nausea, exhaustion, and uncertainty suddenly made sense. It was all worth it.
Now, the fun part.
——
Art was crushing the tournament.
Barreling through to the finals easily, finishing every match with such an advantage that it was almost embarrassing for the other players.
As you watched Art prepare for the final match, a sense of pride swelled within you. He had worked hard to get to this point, and his performance throughout the tournament was impressive.
You couldn't help but smile as you thought about the news you would share with him. The thought of seeing his reaction filled you with excitement and joy. Quickly closing the door, you sat with the rest of the audience, eager to know the outcome.
As Art stepped onto the court for the final match, you took a deep breath, knowing that win or lose, this moment would be one to remember.
The match was intense, with both players giving it their all. Art's determination and skill were evident as he moved across the court, his focus unwavering.
In the end, Art emerged victorious, the crowd erupting into cheers as he raised his arms triumphantly.
As Art basked in the crowd's cheers, his eyes locked onto yours, a grin breaking through his focused demeanor. His expression softened with surprise and relief as he saw you in the finals despite how horrible you felt.
This was your moment.
With a steady hand, you reached into your purse, pulling out the newborn-sized onesie you had been carrying. "Way to go, Dad!" were scribbled in bold letters on the white material, a message of celebration and love.
As Art approached you, his victorious aura shining bright, you held out the onesie with a smile, your heart pounding excitedly.
"Congratulations, Dad," you said, your voice filled with pride and joy.
Art's eyes widened with surprise as he took the onesie from you, his expression shifting from disbelief to pure joy. A wide grin spread across his face as he looked down at the tiny garment in his hands, the realization sinking in.
"You're pregnant?" he exclaimed, his voice filled with emotion.
You nodded, tears of happiness welling up in your eyes. "Yes, we're having a baby."
Art pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you as he held you close.” I love you," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I love you so much.”
As the crowd continued to cheer around you, you held onto Art tightly, feeling the warmth of his love and the promise of a new beginning. In that moment, surrounded by the echoes of victory and the anticipation of new life, you knew your future together was brighter than ever.
Hard work does pay off.
#married art donaldson#art donaldson oneshot#art donaldson drabble#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson x female reader#mentions of Tashi#challengers#challengers fanfiction#art donaldson fanfiction#art donaldson pregnancy#art donaldson fluff#mike faist x reader#mike faist#mike faist fanfic
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Dancing With The Devil
Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem! royal!reader
Summary: Your whole life revolved around court intrigues, gaining influence, and extracting the darkest secrets from important nobility. As a woman, there wasn't much you could do or count on. Unless you provide yourself with status and position through a good marriage. You've made your life perfect. You had a complete plan and vision for your future—even after the unexpected loss of your fiancé, you managed to rise up and find another good match—until the Na-Baron decided to interfere with it and ruin everything you had been working for. You were about to find out for yourself that dancing with the devil never led to anything good. Even if the consequences of this come after some time...
Warning: kind of royal au!; 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; smut;
Inspired by: Bridgerton and "Would've, could've, should've" - Taylor Swift
Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist
"What do you mean by saying that Paul Atreides is dead?"
"Exactly that." Your mother replies with her typical calm, adjusting the crown on her head in the mirror. "He and his family went on a diplomatic mission to Arrakis. They were attacked by… a group of rebels. More specifically, it was probably Sardaukar, but we all know who benefited more from the death of the Atreides." You shudder at the mere mention of the Harkonnens. However, you still can't get over the shock of the revelation you've just heard.
"It is impossible. They couldn't kill them all, after all... what about Caladan? And the plans of the Bene Gesserit? The Emperor would never…"
"The Emperor is not the same man you knew. As he grows older, he grows not in wisdom but in fear. He is more afraid of maintaining his throne than of the good of the empire. And, as we all know, Paul was his most likely successor. So he killed him before he could kill him." She explains this to you, making sure that her appearance is impeccable. She turns from the mirror and nods to the maid, ordering her to give her a coat in your family's colours and embroidered with the decorations and symbols of your house.
"I... are you just trying to tell me that I don't have a fiancé?"
"Unless you want to marry his corpse, yes, that's what I am trying to say to you from the beginning." Your mother snorts in amusement, watching you as you are still in shock, trying to process this unexpected, terrible news. The shock in you slowly gives way to anger. This wasn't how things were supposed to look.
"Mother, you should know how tragic this situation is. After all, the season is almost over; when will I get any suitors? Should I be without any for a year? And then another one? You know perfectly well that most of the descendants of high families have already announced their courtship. Am I supposed to end up as a spinster?"
"Calm down. The season isn't over yet. Since... Caladan has an unstable political situation, Princess Irulan suggested that we take over the main, final celebrations. All you have to do is dress nicely, present yourself well, and catch whatever poor young men come here." You snort mockingly at her feeble attempts to comfort and reassure you.
"I won't have a better husband than Paul. He was the perfect match! Not ugly, easy to control, filthy rich, only son who was supposed to inherit everything—where will you find me another husband like that?" You ask furiously, more concerned about the consequences of his death for you than the fact that you will never meet your fiancé ever again. You couldn't end up as a spinster. You couldn't marry just anyone, either, or, worse, end up as a mere concubine. You didn't spend all these years beautifying your appearance and studying politics, martial arts, economics, and biological sciences to marry some insignificant idiot from an unknown family and planet.
"It's going to be hard, I won't lie, but we'll get through it. We are Y/L/N. We never give up and always achieve our goals. You're too beautiful, darling, to become a spinster. And too smart to marry some insignificant lord."
"You too were, and yet you ended up with my father."
"I married him out of love and love... love makes us do stupid things. But you are smarter than me. You can do much better, I have no doubt about that. We'll give you a week of mourning before we throw the first party. During this time, we will review... available men. To know who to focus on." You nod, agreeing with her plan. You couldn't immediately rush out to find another suitor when your previous one had just been buried beneath the sands of Arrakis. You had to pretend you were crying for him.
It wasn't like you didn't care about Paul at all. You liked him. He was a good conversation partner and a nobel man. But in this situation, you felt more sorry for yourself. You were left with no fiancé, no suitor, and no other alternative.
And if there was anything worse for a woman in this world than death, it was either infertility or becoming a spinster whom no one paid any attention to. You could have handled every other situation perfectly well, but not such humiliation.
Or at least that's what you thought until you crossed paths with the one and only Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.
You stand against the wall, sipping your champagne with probably the sourest expression on your face. The masquerade ball had already started an hour ago and you still couldn't find anyone whose attention you could attract.
You and your mother had looked through... all the possible options, but none of the men who came here were fooled by your sweet swan appearance. And if he did, he proposed after just a few minutes of conversation. You may have been in a desperate situation, but you weren't looking for a desperate man.
Standing against the wall allowed you to take a closer look at the nobles present at the ball. You caught a few rumours and scandalous behaviour—touching too long, stolen kisses, and a few other things—but you didn't feel like thinking about them at all when the vision of your future looked so bleak.
Your bad mood is only fueled by Irulan's presence and how she's clearly having a great time at your funeral. As if she had achieved another one of her many victories. Lucky bitch.
You sigh and place your glass on the tray of a passing servant. You are about to leave the masquerade ball when your attention is caught by a man standing alone on the other side of the room.
His outfit is… unusual. His black coat is finished with sharp metal decorations, making it resemble more of a fancy armour than a classic formal outfit. The black mask completely covers his face and the back of his head, leaving only his full lips and part of his defined jaw to your eyes.
And you really like those lips. Very much. You decide that today you will test their softness when the stranger's cold blue eyes meet yours. A shiver of excitement runs through you as you imagine the things you could do with this intoxicatingly beautiful man. And maybe it's the alcohol you drank or your pathetic longing to be the centre of someone's attention that makes you feel brave enough to approach him.
As you slowly approach him and look at him closely, you realise what he's disguised as. The black swan. It was so good for you that you decided to be the white one tonight.
However, the man suddenly disappears in the crowd of people. You frown and look around, searching for him, but somehow you can't. It was as if he had vanished into thin air. You freeze when you suddenly feel someone's presence behind you. A shiver of excitement runs down your spine as the man's husky whisper echoes in your ear.
"Looking for someone, my lady?" You turn your head to meet the same icy blue irises up that were watching you from across the room a moment ago.
Goosebumps run through you as his gaze inexplicably hypnotises you. This could be your opportunity; you just had to play your cards well and make him more interested in you. The circumstances and scenery were perfect—downright romantic, like from a book. You just had to make this handsome devil equally enchanted by you. You must have caught his attention if he decided to play with you and chase you to get to you first.
You also need to find out who owns those captivating lips and eyes whose colour rivals the ocean waves. Oh, and how you desperately wanted to immerse yourself in them...
"My lord." You curtsy, turning fully to face him to study him even more carefully. He was tall, with a muscular figure visible under his clothes that you wanted to explore with your fingers. You lick your lips, shifting your gaze back to his, and catch him assessing you with his eyes, just like you had just done with him. "I couldn't help but notice how... coincidentally, we fit together with our choice of outfits."
"Indeed, we do. Although I personally think you would look better in black, little swan." The nickname he gives you and the arrogance in his voice make you snort mockingly, raising an eyebrow at him defiantly as you become even more fascinated by this mysterious man.
"Why is that?"
"You may look like a tiny, innocent bird in this white, pretty dress, but your eyes—your eyes give it all away, my lady. You can try to deceive men with this... undoubtedly beautiful sight for the eyes, but not all of us fall so easily to the false mirage—maybe only lesser men—but you're not desperate enough to seek the attention of a mere duke or count, who would be easily led by you, are you?"
"And who are you to make such bold assumptions?" You ask furiously, glaring at him as he gently strokes the collar of your dress with his fingertip, playing a little with the white feathers that were attached to it. He smirks, his white teeth gleaming dangerously, reminding you of the smile of a wolf before it catches its prey.
"Definitely not a lesser man." He replies, undaunted by your anger. His hand slides from the collar of your dress over your shoulder as he grabs your gloved hand and presses a soft kiss on it, and you can barely keep yourself from closing your eyes and giving in to the pleasant feeling of having his plush, full lips so close and yet so far from your skin. "May I? I believe that this beautiful dress will look better while moving…"
At this point, you should refuse. Thank him for his company and go find a... more suitable one. But you can't deny that he's read you accurately so far and that he's touched a part of you that you haven't shown to anyone. You were too curious to just let him go; you wanted to stay with him longer and see what would come of this acquaintance with him.
So you nod and let him lead you to the dance floor. A few heads turn towards you, but you can't reach anything other than him, and the feeling of his larger hand gently holding yours in a strange way makes your heart flutter slightly.
You feel like he's put a spell on you, and strangely, you don't want to break out of it at all.
His eyes never leave yours. You're almost dizzy from how intensely he's looking at you. He places his hand on your waist, pulling you a little closer to him. He holds you tight enough so that you can feel his touch on you, and it isn't painful for you. He leads you into a dance with incredible grace for a man, spinning you around to the rhythm of the music.
He's so close to you that you can smell his scent, which is as addictive as his burning attention. The smell of anise, musk, and hot spices assaulting your nostrils makes you involuntarily lean towards him, wanting to be as close to him as good manners allow. However, you know that if you spend another few minutes longer in his presence, all your mother's teachings will be forgotten in favour of... getting closer to this compelling man.
"So what do you believe in then? If you don't believe in coincidence? Destiny?" You ask, trying to shake off this strange feeling of loss of control he's giving you.
And you almost fail miserably, barely keeping yourself from blushing as his low chuckle makes you burn even more for him. You had to find some flaw in him—something that would turn you off if you didn't want to lose your mind completely, because for now, everything about this man was sinfully pleasant.
"We create our destiny. Don't you agree?"
"Sometimes things are beyond your control, my lord." You disagree with him, keeping your searching gaze on him as his hands move to your hips.
You bite your bottom lip as he lifts you up in one fluid motion, following the steps of the dance. The ease with which he shifts you and spins you so that your back is against his chest as he sets you down on the floor again makes your cheeks blush as you think of all the ways you could use his large, strong hands. You feel like a horny teenager in her first season. And you don't like it at all.
"And sometimes, all we need to do is take a step and reach out for what is rightfully ours." He whispers in your ear, wrapping his hands around you, never stopping his movements.
You swallow thickly as he places your joined hands on your shoulder, his thumb brushing against your bare collarbone. You bite your tongue, trying to hold back a moan when you feel the rough skin of his hands, confirming your suspicions that his toned physique is built from years of training and fighting. This fuels your desire for him even more.
"Possible. But our reputation suffers because of it. You can't escape the eyes of society. No matter how hard you try, my lord." Your eyes fall on the couples dancing around you.
You gasp when he suddenly wraps his arm around your waist and turns you around, forcing you to face him again. You almost bump into his chest, completely unprepared for such a sudden move from him. He gives you a mischievous smirk and a wink, amused at how he managed to catch you off guard and off-balance. You purse your lips, causing his eyes to shift to them.
"Do you know what freedom you can achieve when you throw off the yoke of your reputation? How many opportunities are open to you?" He whispers hoarsely, leaning towards you. You lift your chin, meeting his gaze as your heart beats frantically against your chest. You get the feeling he has in his mind... something much less pure and decent. And you almost trembled in his arms with excitement.
"Do you know how many doors close in front of you? No one wants to associate with a vile person rejected by society."
"Oh, but those nefarious always seem to get their attention, don't you think? They are invited out of sheer curiosity about how they will behave and what exciting and forbidden things they will do. They are the source of the most virulent gossip; you won't deny it, right, little swan?"
"Possible. Are you one of them?" You ask, curious about his identity.
He gives you a mysterious, mocking smirk as he chuckles throatily. He leans down and brushes his lips against your ear. You sigh as his lips press a small kiss to your earlobe, your heart racing as you feel him so close to you. You wait in suspense for what he will do next, completely oblivious to the people around you, who, fortunately, are too busy with themselves to notice what is happening around them. You'd never been so happy about wearing a mask before, even though it was a way to protect your identity and allow yourself... to do a little more in such a public place.
"Oh darling… what if I told you that I'm the worst of them all?" He whispers seductively, biting your ear. You gasp, digging your fingers into his arm, holding on to anything as he plays cruelly with you.
At this point, you should thank him for this dance, turn around, and find another company. But there's something... magnetic about this man that draws you closer and closer to him.
Maybe it's the thrill of the unknown—the excitement of how different this man seems from the rest of the people here. And even though your mind is screaming at you, and rightly so, to back away before you burn yourself with the fire that burns from him, you want to follow him like a moth, desperately wanting to bathe in the glow of these new sensations he is giving you.
So, without thinking about it for a long time, you grab his hand and lead him out of the room. Surprisingly, he obediently follows you, not questioning you as the two of you walk through various corridors. You lead him towards the exit—straight to the palace gardens, where there should be much fewer people who couldn't... overhear you.
You drag him into the maze, taking him to one of the dead ends. Before he can say anything, you lean in and kiss him lustfully. You moan at the feeling of his soft lips caressing yours, and you tighten your hands on his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. The metal trim of his outfit digs into you, but you ignore the feeling, completely absorbed by the way his tongue slips into your waiting mouth.
Under different circumstances, if it were known to him who you were and there was no mask covering half of your face, you would never have dared to take such a... bold step. But now, with him so close to you and your identity safe under the white feather mask, you moan into his mouth, letting yourself bask in the feeling of desire.
You and Paul... fooled around a few times, but the furthest you went was touching each other. But with this man, the man whose name you didn't know and who was currently sucking the air from your mouth, you felt completely different.
All your nerves were on fire. Every inch of you was begging for his touch and undivided attention. You couldn't help but moan and melt into his hands as he possessively tightened his grip on your hip, pulling you much closer to his body.
Your bodies fit together perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle, and you couldn't help but wonder if your souls were also two halves that fit together thoroughly.
Just when you feel like you can't go without air any longer, his mouth stops attacking yours, instead caressing and nipping at the skin of your jaw and moving to your neck.
Suddenly, the corset you're in becomes too tight, and breathing becomes increasingly difficult for you as his lips mark your neck, making your already lust-crazed heart beat faster. You whine, your hands tracing his muscular torso, as you find yourself in extreme conflict. You know you should push him away and that you shouldn't let him mark you so clearly, but on the other hand, he brings you so much pleasure and makes you shiver just from the feeling of his lips on your neck. You dread to think what he would do to you if he moved a little further south of your body—if he kneeled in front of you and did to you things you only read about in the privacy of your chamber.
You quickly cover your mouth with your hand as you are about to scream when his teeth dig into your neck. He sucks on the sensitive skin, making sure to leave a clear mark on you. Your eyes widen in shock when you hear a threatening growl from him. His hand grabs yours tightly, removing it from your mouth, and his icy blue eyes flash with anger, giving you a furious glare.
"Hold back your moans and screams one more time, and I will make sure the people in the palace hear you crying because of me, little swan. And believe me, I can make it only pleasant for me, so don't test my patience and mercy and be a good girl for me." He growls, tightening his grip on your hand that he pinned to the hedge behind you.
He kisses you hard, chastisingly, as he takes a step towards you, closing any space between you. Your breasts rub against his chest as he presses against you, and you think you can feel his hardness through the layers of your clothes.
A short gasp escapes you as his hand travels beneath the layers of your dress. His fingers take their time caressing the skin of your legs, slowly climbing up to where you needed to have him as soon as your eyes fell on him. You decide to compromise with him and pull him into a kiss so as not to attract unwanted attention from any of the guests.
You gasp as his fingers brush against your clothed core. His raspy chuckle as he discovers the undeniable flood between your legs makes you blush with embarrassment and anger. Your breathing quickens as you reach out to grab his cock, squeezing him painfully tight for teasing you. A loud moan leaves his lips swollen from kissing, making you want to extract other, equally temptingly beautiful sounds from him.
But before you can do anything, he drops to his knees in front of you and lifts the folds of your white dress. You shiver, feeling his breath between your legs as he takes his time stroking your thighs, caressing them with his soft lips.
You moan as he sucks and bites the skin of your inner thighs, teasing you as he blatantly ignores your needy pussy. You dig your fingers into his shoulders, biting your lip as you try to pull him to your clothed core. He growls while spanking your pussy. You scream at the sudden, burning sensation, your legs shaking, so only his strong hands are keeping you upright.
You tilt your head back, resting it against the hedge, and moan softly as he presses a teasing kiss on your clothed core. His fingers gently slip under your panties, only to rip the fabric off of you in one quick movement.
You sigh as his nose brushes against your folds as he inhales your scent, stuffing your torn panties into his pants pocket. His tongue gently and teasingly tastes your wetness, making you even more frustrated. You push aside the fabric of your dress and take his hand that was exploring the curve of your ass and pull it to your pussy which is screaming for his attention.
His chuckle stimulates your clit, making you moan and pushing your hips into him in a desperate attempt to find a release. He growls angrily at your impatience and grabs your hips in an iron grip, positioning you to his liking and plan.
You hold your breath as his fingers gently enter you, soothing the burning feeling of emptiness inside you. His tongue plays with your clit, sucking every last drop of your juices out of you, as if he's as addicted to your taste and sounds as you are to the feeling of his touch and the way he fills you.
You feel your orgasm building. You close your eyes in blissful relief, allowing yourself to moan, not caring if anyone can hear you. Your fingers dig into his neck. He growls against your pussy as you draw his blood from him and intensifies his ministrations. His fingers move in and out quickly as he sucks on your most sensitive spot, as if he's trying to mark you there and leave you a hickey there.
Your fingers run up his neck. You want to pull his hair—hurt him as much as he hurts you. Your fingertips find their way beneath the black fabric of his mask covering his head, but when you reach out to grab his hair, you're met with bare skin.
And then everything falls into place in your head.
When the realisation comes to you, you freeze, you lose all feeling, and all you can do is stand there and think about who you let under your dress and between your legs.
Harkonnen. You were being eaten by a fucking Harkonnen, and judging by his body structure, voice, and the guest list you've looked through hundreds of times, by one and only Feyd-Rautha, Na-Barron of Giedi Prime.
You tremble, not at all because of the feeling of how his fingers and tongue work continuously on your orgasm, intensifying your sensations as he lets out soft moans at the taste of you, but because pure terror overwhelms your whole body. You unconsciously tighten the hug on his neck, which only increases the intensity of his… efforts on your wet folds, as he wants to take you over the edge.
You take advantage of the fact that he's too... distracted and push him away from you. You grab the skirt of your dress and run fast, as far away from him as possible. Your heart races as you hear his soft growl before, to your even greater dismay, he chases after you.
You run through a maze, trying to lose Harkonnen among many paths, hoping he will reach a dead end and lose your trail, or at least to find some group of people. After all, he won't be able to do anything to you in front of witnesses—or maybe he could?
You tremble at the thought that the same hands that cut the throats of servants and concubines, hands that killed prisoners in the arena and people in battle, touched you and were the cause of your... your pleasure.
How stupid you were! How could you allow yourself to be seduced by Harkonnen and carried away by your stupid emotions and desires? You mentally curse him, his family, and Paul Atreides, whose death made you have to chase men again to find a suitable husband. And especially you curse how amazing and extraordinary you felt under the touch of this bloodthirsty beast, whose house has been nefarious for centuries.
You run forward, not daring to turn around to see if he's still chasing you. You're so lost in your thoughts and so scared that you accidentally run into someone. You gasp as a hand grips your waist tightly, preventing you from falling. You have a heart attack, thinking that it could be him and that he has somehow outsmarted you. But when you look up, you don't see blue irises, but green ones.
"Forgive me, my lord. I didn't mean to..." Your words stop as you take a closer look at the man. He wasn't wearing a mask; he apparently abandoned it when he entered the garden, and you have to say, he's... handsome. Very.
“Of course you didn't mean to. You couldn't see me when you were running so fast, which makes me wonder: From what are you running away, my lady?"
"I... To be honest, I'm running away from my maids. And that ball. It's just… too much excitement for one evening." You lie, quickly making up an excuse.
Obviously, you won't tell him that you're being chased by the horny Harkonnen heir, with whom you were ALONE in the garden. That would be a scandal. Just talking to this man now could be considered that way too... let alone what you allowed Feyd-Rautha to do to you.
"I think so too. Viscount Y/L/N throws good parties, but… they're a little too loud for my liking. Too vibrant." He comments, offering his arm to you. You can't help but smile as you place your hand in the crook of his arm.
Luckily, he leads the two of you in the opposite direction you were running from. You see that his brown and gold mask is tied to his arm, and on his finger he has... the ring of the Luwael family, a close family of Emperor Corrino. You just talked to the emperor's cousin, the pretender to his throne since he has no son.
You can't believe how lucky you are.
"Tell me about it, I've been enduring it since I was 15." You say it jokingly, giggling when you see his eyes widen as he realises he's gossiping about your father, and you think he looks adorable and cute in his state of little panic.
"Lady Y/N Y/L/N?" He asks, shocked. You nod and reach for the ribbon of your mask, removing it. You see his pupils dilate slightly as he takes in your appearance, his cheeks turning pink—whether from embarrassment or lust, you don't know, but you still like his reaction to you. "My apologies, I didn't mean to offend…."
"You did not." You interrupt him quickly with a charming smile. "It's... refreshing to be able to talk to someone who has similar opinions and feelings. At least when it comes to those terrible balls."
"Sometimes I feel like they force us to participate just to have something to gossip about later."
"Don't you like gossip?" You ask curiously, raising an eyebrow as you continue your walk through the gardens. You completely forget about Harkonnen and your... mistake, as you are trying to gain the interest of the man next to you.
This could be your big chance.
True, you heard that he and Irulan were to marry so that power would remain in Corrino's hands, but... if you make him want you, no one will stop him from taking you as his wife.
"I don't like court intrigues. The way ladies throw themselves at lords just to gain a higher title."
"Maybe for you men, marriage is more than just a financial transaction, but unfortunately for most of us, it's all about stability. The security of our lives is the most important thing here, and love—love is a complex and difficult thing; most often, unfortunately, it is only in books. Won't you agree?"
"Possible. But I would rather my wife love me than the power I give her." You smile in understanding. So you have a romantic in front of you... You have to adjust your role well, so you keep your true thoughts to yourself. You innocently hang your head, feigning uncertainty.
"This is completely understandable. Don't all of us dream about it? Have someone of your own, trusted, to whom you can confide all your dreams and fears without being afraid of being laughed at or ignored?" You ask, turning your head to look at him as you ask him your final question.
By the way he watches you with a burning light in his eyes, you know you've come to the right place and have successfully sold your image of a weak, defenceless woman dreaming of a real courtly romance. Pathetic. However, you will do anything to get a husband, you'll even pretend to be a helpless lamb.
"Yes... I assume that's what all of us want. Maybe expect the Harkonnens." You laugh at his joke, feeling very awkward at the same time as the memory of a certain Harkonnen's lips comes back to you.
You curse yourself for how damn good he made you feel. They may not have known love, but if they were all like Na-Baron, they knew damn well how to please their women—a thing you couldn't say about all the lords of the great houses.
You and Lord Luwael walk around the garden for a while before you both decide to head back to the ballroom. You put on your masks, and the man escorts you back, all the while being a perfect gentleman, including dancing, which he later asked you for.
You have fun maintaining your image as a hopeless romantic who wants to find true love and break away from the courtly conventions that overwhelm you—a perfect match for the emperor's heir. He doesn't tell you his identity until the end of the evening, but you don't mind. You know you've charmed him. And that he will seek your company at the next events of this season.
What you don't know is that certain icy-blue irises are watching you two furiously as you are led back into the ballroom by Lord Luwael. You also don't know that the Harkonnens are persistent and ruthless people who can wait years for their plans to be implemented, and that their devilish Na-Baron is truly the worst of them all...
Or that Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen decided a long time ago that you would become his wife. It didn't matter what he had to do or how to achieve his goal.
In the future, you will often regret this night and dancing with the Harkonnen devil. Very often.
~9 years earlier~
“They say he killed his mother. That his uncle and brother are training him to become a killer beast. That he is now devoid of any emotion except anger and bloodlust, and Paul told me that he apparently even has concubines.” Irulan gossips with you as the two of you watch in the distance as Feyd-Rautha trains in the courtyard.
The emperor invited several greater families to discuss something. You weren't too interested about it. Your mother simply packed your things and said you were leaving for a week. But you were happy. You had the opportunity to play with other nobles' children and it was definitely a nice break from listening to your parents' constant arguments.
"Nonsense. He's our age. Let's ask him if he wants to play with us." You decide and stand up to walk over to the hairless boy. Irulan grabs your hand tightly and pulls you back to your hiding place behind the pillar.
"He is a Harkonnen, Y/N. They don't play." She says and leans out to look at him. He swings his sword several times, making several quick movements and turns.
"But he isn't like them. He grew up on Lankiveil. Besides, I still remember him when he had blonde hair. And Harkonnens have no hair, so..."
"Baron made him his heir. Of course he had to... make himself look like them." She interrupts you, wrinkling her nose in disgust. You shiver slightly at the mere mention of the baron and nod thoughtfully.
"Pity. His blonde curls were pretty." You comment and lean out to look at him. You hold your breath as you make eye contact with him. He looks at you coldly, not moving an inch. You wave at him, giving him a hesitant smile. He stares at you for a while longer before he turns on his heel, his back to you, as he continues his training as if nothing had happened. "Still, we should have asked him. He looks quite lonely."
"NO. I won't be nice to him. If my mother gives a son to my father and I have to marry this… Harkonnen, I will throw myself from the tower."
"Why from the tower?" You ask, confused, frowning at the girl.
"I don't know. This is what the main characters in books do when something terrible happens to them. They say they will throw themselves off the tower."
"I prefer it when they fight the dragon." You say this, glancing at the boy again. You don't know why, but something just wouldn't let you walk away and leave him, although you really want to play with Paul, Irulan, and the other kids. You find yourself much more wanting to play with this strange boy.
You frown when you see him accidentally cut his hand. He doesn't cry like Paul did when you slammed his hand in the door. Instead, he puts his mouth on the wound and sucks out the blood. He tears off a piece of his clothes, wraps it around his hand, and continues training.
And somehow, it makes you make a decision.
"Y/N! What are you doing?!" Irulan hisses at you as you pull your hand from her grasp and take a step towards the courtyard.
"Fighting the dragon. Wish me luck." You answer, and without looking back, you head towards the training boy. His pale, bald head almost gleams in the sun, and you can't help but wonder if his lack of hair makes him less tolerant of the sun's heat.
When you are close to him, you stand still, not wanting to accidentally impale yourself on his sword. He notices you out of the corner of his eye, stops swinging his sword, and turns towards you, looking at you closely.
"Hi." You say as you wave at him.
"Lady Y/N." His voice is slightly hoarse, as if he had sandpapered it. You frown, surprised by such a formal greeting. Usually, only adults greet you like that.
"Um... my lord?" You answer hesitantly and shake your head, trying to ignore how strange he's acting. "Do you want to join us? We are playing hide and seek." You say, pointing your thumb at the pillar you and Irulan were hiding behind a few seconds ago.
"It's fun for kids." He replies dismissively and starts swinging his sword again.
"Are you not one?" You ask in surprise, still looking at him. He growls in annoyance and turns towards you, giving you a furious glare as you interrupt him.
"No. I am a man. And men are supposed to fight in battles and train to become stronger."
"Why?" You ask and frown at him, following him as he walks over to the fountain where he left his water and towel. He wipes the beads of sweat from his head, giving you a confused gaze.
"To keep their women and country safe." He replies like it's an obvious thing everyone should know.
"Well... do you have any in danger right now?" This time it's him who furrows his hairless eyebrows at your weird question. He thinks for a moment, observing you, and then shakes his head.
"No."
"Great! Then you can play with us." You say it excitedly and grab his hand. He hisses under your touch, and it's only then that you realise you've grabbed his injured hand. You want to apologise, but his mad glare quickly silences you.
"I already told you that I am not going to play any stupid game, woman!"
"Hey! I am not a woman, I am a girl! And you are a boy, so stop pretending to be an adult and play with us." You respond to his furious growl with your own and shoot him your evil glare. But instead of caring about your outburst and maybe even complying with your demands, he just laughs, making you even angrier.
"I will do whatever I want. You won't order me, little bunny. It doesn't matter how cute you look when you're angry." He mocks you and turns his back on you. You stamp your foot, furious at his behaviour and the fact that he is dismissing you.
"I doubt that sitting all alone is what you prefer." You say, unconsciously hitting his sweet spot. You see him tense as he reaches for his sword. However, his attitude quickly turns indifferent again as he turns his head to glance at you briefly.
"You should go."
"Why?"
"Before anyone notices me with you. Why are you asking so many questions?" He asks irritably, and he starts his training again.
Even though he tries to ignore you, you can see him glancing at you every few moments as you continue to stand there, watching as he swings his sword and cuts through the air.
"Is that yours?" You ask him curiously, sitting on the edge of the fountain.
"Yes. My uncle gave it to me for my 10th birthday." He replies proudly and stops for a moment to talk to you. You smile, staring longingly at the metal blade.
"My gave me dolls. Again. It's so boring." You grumble, keeping your eyes on his weapon. "How do you play with it?"
"I don't play. I train." He replies in annoyance and rolls his eyes at you. But you can see in his eyes that he's not mad at you at all. On the contrary, he wants to continue talking to you. That's why you act more boldly.
"Whatever. How do you train with it? Can you show me?"
"These are not things for a woman." His rejection doesn't dampen your excitement at all. On the contrary, you want to train with him even more, to do something that your mother forbade you to do a long time ago.
"Well, that's a good thing that I am a girl, then. Can you show me? Please? My dad wanted to train me, but my mom didn't agree. She is stupid." You complain, causing him to chuckle. You smile widely, thinking that he looks better when he's cheerful and not with that dark and grim scowl.
"She is. You should know how to protect yourself. Your father won't be fighting for your safety forever. And with that attitude, I doubt you will ever find a husband to protect you."
"Good. I don't want one. Can you show me then?" You ask, ignoring the fact that he's trying to insult you. You look up at him with your beautiful, pleading eyes and stick out your lower lip.
He watches you for a moment, frowning as he feels his heart beat faster when you give him that cute look he simply can't resist. He sighs, barely taking his eyes off of you, and nods.
"Fine. But only if you stay away from me after that."
"Okay." You reply excitedly and nod enthusiastically. He smiles slightly and stands behind you, helping you maintain a good stance with your sword.
"Hold it like that." He says, adjusting your grip on the handle.
"It's so heavy! How can you hold it and move?" You almost collapse under the weight of the sword, but you try to hold it the way he shows you. He laughs huskily, making you smile.
"You can get used to it with time. Now. I will show you some basic movements."
He trains with you and shows you some tricks and moves. And although he was rough and rude towards you at first, over time you both enjoyed each other's company.
You manage to make him laugh a few times, and each time you count it as a small victory considering how grumpy he was. He's obviously extremely fascinated with fighting and seems more than willing to teach you a few things. You think this "training" is fun—at least until you accidentally injure yourself.
"Ouch!" You scream and almost drop his sword. Luckily, he caught it quickly, before you could cut your foot. He furrows his hairless eyebrows and takes your injured hand in his.
"You're as clumsy as you look, little bunny." He mumbles and brings your hand to his mouth.
He licks up your blood like he did with his and tears off a piece of your dress. He wraps the cloth around the wound and looks closely at your hand. You frown, disgusted that he's licking your blood, but you don't move. Well... not until you realise this insult.
"Hey! You hurt yourself a while ago, too. Besides, it's my first time." You are angry at him, pulling your hand away and crossing your arms.
"Because I had an unexpected audience that was talking passionately about me behind my back."
"Oh… I'm sorry. It was mean." You respond contritely, not realising how he must have felt when everyone around him assumed the worst about him and didn't want to be around him.
"I got used to it." He replies in an emotionless tone and looks away from you, almost looking like a beaten dog, even though he tries hard not to show it. And you feel terribly sorry for him.
"You shouldn't. You are cool. When you take the stick out of your ass." You joke, and he chuckles. You smile at him, but his good mood is suddenly interrupted by something. His face turns serious, his muscles tense, and you only hear the growl of some animal before Feyd pushes you behind him.
A large hunting dog runs up to you. He lunges at Feyd, knocking him down. The dog bites him, and Feyd screams in rage. He tries to plunge his sword into the dog's side, but it clamps its jaws on the Feyd's arm, immobilising him.
You gasp in dismay. You reach for a rock and throw it at the dog, trying to distract it. You succeed, but before you can think about what to do next, the dog lunges at you.
You land on your back and use your elbows to get up, but the dog is quickly above you. He growls, foam dripping from his muzzle onto you, and you can only stare in horror into his eyes. You gasp when, just as he is about to sink his teeth into you, Feyd's sword suddenly pierces the dog.
You lie on the ground, unable to move, as you feel the animal's blood dripping onto your dress. Feyd pushes the dog off of you and gives you a worried look.
"Are you hurt?" He asks and offers you his hand. He helps you get back on your feet, looking for any wounds. You shake and shiver as you look at the dead animal. Feyd notices this and places his hand on your cheeks, making you look into his eyes as he turns your back to the animal's body.
He opens his mouth to repeat the question, but freezes when you throw yourself into his arms and hug him tightly, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you sob softly. Feyd holds you tentatively and strokes your hair, clumsily trying to calm you down.
"Thank you." You mumble into his neck. He doesn't say anything. He just holds you, letting you cry into him and calm him down. When you finally do, you move away from him. You wipe tears away with the sleeve of your dress, which makes Feyd's heart clench uncomfortably.
He doesn't understand what you're doing to him. He should have felt disgusted by you and been as far away from you as possible. He should have rejected you the moment you threw yourself at him, but... somehow he couldn't deny you this moment of comfort. The mere thought of you seeking comfort from him made his heart flutter a little. And you smelled nice, too. Like ocean. Like Lankiveil. Like home.
You represented everything his uncle wanted him to forget. You were... soft. Too soft. And nice. He should have wanted to hurt you, not comfort you, but all he wanted to do was hold you and protect you from the cruel world.
"Y/N!" Your father's scream reaches you.
The man pulls you further away from Feyd and looks at him warily before his worried gaze shifts to you and your eyes, bloody from crying. A moment later, the Baron and the Emperor join you. The men look at you and the dead dog, frowning.
"My best hunting dog..."
"Feyd-Rautha, what is this about? What have you done?" Her uncle's threatening growl makes Feyd tense. A shiver runs through him, and he opens his mouth to explain himself, but you beat him to it, leaving your father's arms and standing bravely in front of the baron and emperor.
"He saved me."
"What?"
"The dog broke off the leash. It… it would have bitten and torn me if Na-Baron hadn't killed it." The men look at each other, assessing the situation. Feyd watches you carefully, ignoring the surprised, frightened looks from the emperor and your father as you tell them that he killed a nearly three-foot dog.
"I... thank you, Na-Baron. For protecting my daughter." Your father nods to him, but he still has an iron grip on your arm. As if he were afraid that Feyd would turn out to be a worse, more dangerous beast to you than the dog that wanted to bite you to death.
"You're welcome, Viscount Y/L/N." He replies, shifting his gaze from you to your father for a moment.
Your dad is not waiting for the Emperor and the Baron to let you two go. He simply grabs your hand and leads you back to the palace with him. As if he wanted you to be as far away from the Harkonnens as possible.
"You shouldn't let just any dog bite you. You let me down, boy."
You feel sad when you hear his uncle's words. You turn your head, making eye contact with the hairless boy. You give him a small, reassuring smile and wave at him. You see him purse his lips and shift his gaze back to his uncle, who is scolding him. However, he looks much less tense than before.
Unknowingly to you, you gained a secret admirer that day. An admirer who was going to make him the only man who would have the privilege of protecting you and holding you in his arms. He promised himself that this would happen, even if he had to bring hell into the world.
~•♤♤♤•~ PART II ~•♤♤♤•~
Dearest, gentle readers… did you miss me?
The opening of a new season has never been a more exciting and long-awaited event. The great families were impatiently waiting for more scandals delivered by this year's suitors. And this author is bursting with anticipation for the future events and gossips of this season.
This year, we have several unexpected debuts that this author will be watching very closely. However, I am convinced that the undivided attention of the masses will probably be stolen by the Na-Baron of Giedi Prime, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, who this year decided to take part in the great search for a wife.
Lord, take care of the future Baron's chosen one so that she can live up to the expectations and life among the Harkonnens.
However, this author wishes the Na-Baron all the best on his birthday and believes that we all look forward to the opening of the season on Giedi Prime, especially to his signature fight in the arena, which will be the main part of Na-Baron's birthday celebration.
But we also cannot forget about the stars of the previous season, whose story is not even close to the end yet.
Lady Y/N Y/L/N did not decide to plunge into great mourning after the tragic death of her fiancé, Paul Atreides. Lord Luwael was charmed by the young honourable at the end of the previous season, and Lady Y/N turned out to be not indifferent to his courtship. Surprising? A little bit. Unreasaonbale? Of course not. After all, why stand faithfully by a corpse of a duke when you can stick by the side of a potential Emperor?
But this author is deeply disappointed that we didn't get to hear any wedding bells at the end of the previous season. Maybe these two will surprise us all this year, and we will see a real royal wedding that we haven't been able to witness for ages.
We are all looking forward to the ball in honour of Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's birthday, which will be opening this year's season. And this author can't wait to bring all the gossip and scandal to our curious readers. Who knows who will win this great race and have a good match this season?
Happy hunting to all the future brides!
#feyd rautha x reader#feyd rautha x you#feyd rautha x y/n#feyd rautha#feyd rautha harkonnen x reader#feyd rautha harkonnen#feyd x reader#feyd oneshot#house harkonnen#dune part 2#oneshot#feyd supremacy#feyd rautha harkonnen x you#dark romance#royal au#royalty#romance#feyd rautha smut#courtship#love triangle#female manipulator
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Living painting! Steve x F! reader, supernatural AU, monsterfucking (kind of), lil bit of angst, mentions of blood, mentions of bodily injury, oral sex (f), allusions to unprotected PIV sex
WC: 2.9K
A/N: So, I found the painting in the middle on Pinterest and couldn't help thinking that he looked pretty similar to Steve and this happened to be during the time I became interested in writing a monsterfucking fic of my own. It all kind of fell into place that night and I pretty much fell in love with the idea of a Steve who's a literal work of art that comes to life at night and becomes your secret supernatural boyfriend💛 I'm still figuring these two out but this is what I've come up with so far. Enjoy!
One week had passed and the remains of the old picture frame still sat in the waste basket in your kitchen, the ends of splintered poplar jutting up and out of the rim like jagged teeth.
It taunted you like a sneer but you made no move to empty it. Not until you knew for certain if he'd come back or not.
The new frame you'd selected was made of polished, treated pinewood. Sturdy and reliable, you were assured. You only hoped your glassy eyes had nothing to do with how strongly the sales lady had urged you of the frame's durability. Anything to clear you out before the other customers noticed the beginnings of tears wetting your lashes, a part of you suspected.
But the brand-new frame felt firm in your trembling hands. Solid. Sleek. Unbreakable, you hoped. Now all you had to do was wait while doing your best to disregard the many whispers of your neighbors as you passed by them in your apartment building.
"He must have found someone better", Mrs. Owens had muttered haughtily to her husband as you departed the elevator after exchanging forced smiles with the older couple, never knowing how close she'd come to having one of her gaudy gold earrings ripped right out of her lobe had you not managed to contain yourself at the last second.
"I think they might have broken up", you caught Tiffany from 20F's whisper directed at her boyfriend when you walked by them in the hallway, their tight, sympathetic smiles making your stomach churn as you hauled in your grocery bags containing only beer, instant noodles and a pack of cigarettes. The first pack you'd touched in a long time.
"Seriously? I never even got a look at the guy", he'd whispered back to her in a whine.
Sometimes you wondered what kind of image they'd conjured up of Steve. After all, there's only so much you can imagine when all you have to go by is what you can sometimes hear through the walls of your apartment.
~
That night, you stared at his painting while you sat at the foot of your bed like you had every night for the past week, waiting.
The rip in the canvas that ran up the length of his forearm stared back at you. Looking at it made your own arm sting, like fishing hooks in your skin.
Around you, your apartment had fallen into clutter but you didn't dare try to dust or clean again until you knew for certain if what you'd done had ruined everything for good or not.
"Please come back", you chanted under your breath as the minutes passed, waiting as patiently as you could for 12.00am to arrive. You hoped he'd come out of his frame like he had all those nights before. You hoped those brushstrokes would warp into flesh and blood once again despite the unintended gash marring the painting's canvas. You hoped to feel his warmth under your fingertips tonight.
You craved it.
You needed it.
But he doesn't come.
The clock ticks past 12.10am and you let your eyes slip shut before the tears start again.
~
When you wake, you see that the time’s 12.56am once you'd managed to blink the sleep fog away from your eyes, finding a sheet draped over your body and your cheek resting on a pillow you hadn't placed there yourself.
Springing up, your throat grows tight, like rope around your windpipe and you very nearly choke at the sight of the empty framed canvas hanging on your bedroom wall, nothing but swathes of buttery yellows, whites and greys pictured where there once was a pale brunette in the foreground too.
The five inch long cut that'd been made when the painting had scraped against the edge of your dresser was absent from the canvas as well, you notice, frantically kicking off your sheets to begin searching your apartment.
He's peacefully clearing up in the kitchen when you find him, a fresh kitchen towel wrapped securely around his forearm but you can see the blood stains seeping through the pale blue cotton from where you stand.
"You're out of bandages", he smiles when he sees you and it nearly makes your knees buckle, the doorframe holding you up as you lean against it for support.
"Does it hurt?", you manage to ask, eyeing the bloodied towel sadly, guilt scraping at you from the inside out like a saw grinding against your bones. It was all your fault.
"Barely", he answers and you almost believe him. Almost.
It's Steve who crosses the distance first because your legs have grown too weak to do so, reaching out with his injured arm to cup your cheek lovingly.
He notices too late that the blood from his wound has managed to trail down to his thumb. A crimson thumbprint stains your cheek and he attempts to wipe it away from your skin but you stop him before he has the chance.
"Don't", you plead. You didn't want to wipe that trace of him away, not after thinking you'd lost him. Not when you want to wear it on you like rubies.
"I could see you the whole time", he tells you, looking all kinds of apologetic for the worry he’d caused you. "Wanted to tear through that damn frame and be with you. I needed to hold you and tell you that I was okay – that you didn't need to cry anymore but this–" he clutches his injured arm. "I don't know why I couldn't come out sooner– I don't understand this– I still don't understand this", he gestures to himself and it's with a deep pang of sympathy that you understand his frustration.
His entire existence was an anomaly. For all the months you had spent together since you'd first discovered him, the both of you were yet to know how it was that Steve came to be. What had brought him to life? what other kinds of limitations were there? what did this all mean for your relationship? The thing is, none of these questions would be answered tonight because none them mattered to you right now. He was here again and that's all that really mattered.
"We don't have to. Not right away at least", you tell him, fisting the front of his white shirt with your hands, clutching him. "Just promise me you'll always come back", you plead softly, voice cracking as you sniff back a sob.
Smiling again, Steve cradles your face with both hands then, returning your adoring gaze with his mossy, cinnamon eyes. "I promise."
You're quick to lean into him after that, your arms winding tight around his waist as his drop lower to wrap around your back, pulling you in closer as you hold each other for a while.
It's no ordinary embrace. You spend those few blissful minutes memorizing every detail; his scent, his warmth, the gentle beat of his heart as you press your cheek to his chest, relishing all the little things about him that you thought you'd lost forever.
And then you're reminded of his injury, the thin, still bleeding slash running down his arm that the two of you are yet to attend to.
"Let me patch you up", you pull back to look up into his eyes, thinking of the spare first aid kit you had tucked away somewhere deep in your closet.
He only smiles back at you in that way that makes it impossible not to feel so cherished, like you’re the only thing he’ll ever treasure in this strange life he’s been granted.
"Later."
Gently, Steve interlaces his fingers with yours, pulling you into the kitchen and guiding you towards the kitchen dining table.
You watch closely as he pushes the clutter that'd gathered there off the table with his free hand, letting the empty grocery bags and more fall to the floor. You don't even have it in you to feel ashamed of the mess, too relieved to have him back, too pleased to give yourself to Steve as he wraps his large hands around the back of your thighs, lifting you up and placing you down on your table with your legs dangling off the edge.
Neither of you are surprised when things begin to take on a feverish, needy haze as your legs spread further for him to step between. His hands find the hem of your old, oversized t-shirt so he can pull it up over your bare breasts and over your head, stripping you of it and tossing it aside, leaving you in just your panties.
Five and a half hours remain until the sun is due to come up and he'll have to climb back into frame again.
It just doesn't feel like enough.
With how badly you've missed him this past week you feel like you'll need an hour just to kiss him, another to let him explore you, one more for you to return the favor and the rest to wrap yourselves around each other – both of you connected, exchanging the same shaky breath back and forth, fanning the flames of each other’s' fire as you take him so deep inside that you'll carry the forthcoming soreness between your legs with a smile.
For now, though, Steve's kisses start off slow and lazy. Soft licks swipe along your bottom lip before you grant him entry into your mouth and his tongue finds yours, wrapping around it all languid and sloppy. It doesn't take long for him to begin sucking on it gently, eagerly swallowing down the many moans that rise up from your throat when his fingers start to pinch and pull at your hardened nipples.
It's impossible to keep from squirming when he touches you like this, knowing exactly where you're most sensitive and how best to stimulate you. It almost feels like he's weaponized all the knowledge he’s accrued during your time together, circling your nipples with his thumbs, bringing you right up to the cusp of just enough but purposefully withholding more – dangling your pleasure out of arm's reach
Unable to tame your greed because, how could you? how could anyone after what you’ve been through? you try to seek out more. You arch your back and push your chest out to meet Steve’s hands but all that does is make him pull away from your lips, a gentle chuckle working its way up his throat.
"Not yet, baby, not yet. Be a good girl and I'll treat you right."
You’re just about ready to pout and give him your most imploring, desperate Bambi eyes but he attaches himself to your neck next, teeth grazing your pulse point, lips forming a tight seal on your skin as he sucks fresh hickeys on to the surface.
Head lolling back, you can already imagine the sour scowl sure to twist Mrs. Owens' face when she sees the result of Steve’s work tomorrow, a grin emerging on your face as you plan to display the hickeys proudly instead of make any kind of effort to conceal them later.
But just as quickly as the thought had emerged, it falls to the wayside as Steve begins to grow less gentle, his lips leaving your neck as he urges you to lay your back flat against the table. Your own touches are growing more insistent as you help him rid himself of his shirt too, running your hands up the plane of his soft stomach, fingers trailing through his thick chest hair, loving the way it tickles your palms when you do so.
Leaning over you, he begins his descent down your body by pressing one last hot kiss at your neck and then two more between your breasts and on your stomach, gently pushing your knees further apart as he brings his mouth closer to your clothed cunt. You yield to him easily, soft and pliant under his touch like a bud unfurling its petals, ready to bloom. Your breath catches as his lips kiss up your inner thigh, his tongue seeking out your core, dragging over the damp cotton of your panties when he finds it.
Your reaction is instantaneous, hips twitching and whining for him just how he likes when he hooks his finger around the gusset of your panties, pulling it up so that it sinks firmly between your folds. The bump of your swollen clit is so obvious and easy to find underneath the stretched-out fabric and the curls between your legs peek out around the now tight, narrow strip of material. It feels so vulgar when he plays with you like this – so right because you’ve come to love it so much, even to the point you can’t imagine being touched any other way.
“Steve”, you can’t help the high-pitched rasp your voice has taken on, hips twitching again when he smirks and pulls on your panties hard enough for the material to drag over your clit and make you yelp.
And even now, when you're both so desperate for each other, he takes the time to tease you – loving the way you try to urge him on by wiggling your hips and the near pitiful way you whimper out "please".
"I promise. I'm going to treat you so good, sweetheart. Can you hold on a little longer for me, please? I know baby, I know – I just need to play with her a little bit first, okay? Gonna have my tongue on you soon", he coos sweetly in an attempt to placate you as he reaches for the waistband of your panties next.
You lift up your hips to help him get them off, a fresh flare of heat surging through your cheeks when you notice how he has to peel the sticky cotton from your cunt, catching sight of the glistening webs of slick that stretch from your pussy lips to your ruined underwear.
That self-conscious burn doesn’t remain for very long though because during your time together you've learned that Steve likes it messy. So, you're not surprised when you look up to find his face bright with delight, spreading your legs again once he's got your panties off from around your ankles, placing his thumbs on either side of your puffy lips and pulling you open.
"That's my girl", he mutters, his face so close you can feel his breath fan over your naked cunt. “So beautiful.”
He watches your wet hole clench and flex with an unquenchable fascination while you prop yourself up on your elbows and bite down on your lip, both of you unblinking when he gently pulls up your hood to get a good look at your throbbing clit.
“Aw baby. You’ve needed me badly, haven’t you?”, he looks up from between your legs, licking the pad of his thumb before pressing it against your swelling clit to rub slow circles into the sensitive bead.
You sigh out blissfully at the much-needed stimulation, thankful for it as your toes curl and you begin to nod your head. “Missed you so much”, you tell him through a whimper, nails dragging across varnished walnut.
At your admission, you see him reach between his legs to rub at the tent in his pants, lightly grinding his crotch into his palm for some relief. "I missed you too”, he tells you earnestly, letting loose a deep groan that makes your belly twist and somersault with want.
Watching him only makes the ache between your own legs worse and as if sensing that, Steve gathers your thighs in each hand, placing them over his shoulders.
"I'll never make you wait again", he promises, leaning down low, his tongue slipping inside where you needed him most and just like that, after a week of feeling utterly fractured, like you were nothing more than a collection of shattered pieces in shambles, you’re suddenly made whole once again.
~
You hated that he couldn't stay with you in bed, both of you naked, sweaty and sticky, legs tangled together. Steve’s chest is practically pasted to your back as you both lay on your side, his arms around your waist, his soft cock against your bare ass, his cum leaking from between your legs and his lips busy at your neck.
His cut has stopped bleeding too, you were relieved to notice, a layer of scar tissue already forming in its place. Add that to the list of peculiar things you were yet to understand about Steve.
With a quick glance at the clock that shifts into a glare, you realize how quickly Steve must leave you with only ten minutes left until sun up. You wanted those minutes to stretch on as slowly as molasses, anything to keep him here beside you just a little longer.
"Let me help you clean up in here tomorrow", he kisses your cheek, pulling you away from the previous bitter thought.
You can still smell yourself on his lips the same way you're sure he can probably smell himself on yours, your tongue heavy with the taste of his spend as you keep swirling the muscle up against the roof of your mouth, sucking the remnants from it.
"Okay", you sigh contently, nuzzling your cheek against your pillow, pressing yourself against his naked form a little more.
"Don't drop me again, okay?", he chuckles against your skin like he can’t help it, his warm breath fanning over you.
You’re quick to pinch him on one of the arms he’s got wrapped around your waist. "Don't even joke about that. I thought I lost you", you turn to face him with a pout, one he's quick and plenty eager to kiss away with a smile.
"You didn't. You won't. I'm yours, always."
#steve harrington#steve harrington smut#stranger things#stranger things smut#steve harrington x reader
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Teach Me: The Art of Practice (iv) - PB
Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader
Previous Part
Summary: You and Paige have been best friends for the last 6 years. You trust her completely. And it is because of that trust that you ask her a rather forward question. AKA - You ask Paige to teach you.
Warnings: mature, angsty
Word Count: 2.9k
Sweetbans Masterlist & Teach Me Masterlist
AN: A little filler - more lessons to come soon.
Paige was all you could think about. And if you were to ask her, you were all Paige could think about. Yet neither of you said a single word about it.
After your last lesson, Paige had to excuse herself before continuing on with life.
"Alright ma, imma need you to stop right there before I do something you aren't ready for," Paige says as she pulls you up towards her. Your face now hovering over hers. Given your current state and hearing Paige moan your name - you weren't ready to end.
You just stare down at Paige. Before you know it, you are leaning in and connecting your lips with hers.
She is shocked at first, but seeing as to how turned on she is, kisses you back and immediately establishes dominance.
You moan into her mouth and she moves your legs to straddle her. She slowly sits up, not breaking the kiss. Your hands make their way to tug on Paige's hair causing her to struggle to maintain dominance. Using the opportunity, you begin to fight for dominance as you ever so slightly begin to grind down on the girl's hips.
Paige is fed up with how good you are at turning her on and decides to really take manners into her own hands. She removes her lips from yours and begins to work them down your neck, spending extra time on the spot she found right under your ear.
"Paige," you breathe out, now grinding harder on her trying to relieve any of the building pressure in your core. "Babe, don't stop."
Paige's senses are overloaded with you - removing any and all sense she has remaining. She takes one of her hands and lowers your bra straps, kissing down your shoulder and to your chest.
It is on the next throaty groan that reminds her this is all for a lesson and you aren't hers for the taking. Not yet at least.
Paige begins to slow down with the kisses and leans her head on your shoulder - steadying her breathing.
"Why'd you stop?" You ask before you are able to stop yourself. You feel her chuckle underneath you.
"Such a good student, babe but can't overwhelm you or you'll forget everything," Paige says, knowing full-well it is complete BS.
You don't push it and nod. The two of you stay in the same position for a minute. Paige then puts her hands on your hips, giving them a little squeeze before plopping you on the bed beside her.
She gets up and starts to make her way from your room.
"Where are you going B?" You ask and Paige's mind makes a connection.
She realizes that you only use her first name (which you would never do since coining the nickname 'B') when she had you really riled up. You would say her name and that became thrilling to her. She would try and elicit it every chance she gets moving forward.
"I need to go take care of myself babe," she says giving you a smirk. "You did such a great job turning me on that now I have to go finish it."
You blush immediately and watch the girl walk out of your room.
Now the two of you are sitting on the couch of your apartment with half of the team. They invited themselves over and decided that a movie night was in order. They had no knowledge of the compromising position Paige had you in nearly an hour before their arrival.
The girls decided on the fast and furious movies, which always meant you were watching at least two of them. Nika put on the 4th one which no one complained about and now you are all sprawled out in your living room snacking and watching.
You are posted up between Azzi and Nika - leaning on Azzi's shoulder. You made sure to not sit right next to Paige, not trusting yourself.
Paige on the other hand was in one of the recliners. Every minute or so, she found herself glancing over at you. Not that you noticed, but Azzi did.
Paige's eyes would shift to you and then she would adjust in the recliner. Azzi got sick of it and tried to pull Paige's gaze to her. When she finally makes eye contact with Azzi, Azzi gives P the 'stop staring' eyes. Paige just shrugs and crosses her arms. She wants you in the recliner with her.
The first movie wraps up and you can feel yourself getting sleepy. Everyone gets up to grab more snacks and use the restroom. You go and grab a sweatshirt - finding the closest one to you in your room which just so happened to be Paige's. You throw it over your head and let it swallow you up.
When you make your way back, you see Nika has shifted over to where you were sitting and Evina took Nika's spot. You stand for a second before looking over at Paige in the recliner with both arms open, inviting you into her. You inhale and make your way over to your best friend.
You crawl on top of her and curl up with your head on her chest. Paige's arms wrap around you and you make some final adjustments to get comfortable. None of this phasing the girls on the couch one bit.
It is halfway through the movie and you feel yourself nodding off. Paige can tell you are fighting sleep and kisses the top of your head.
"Go to sleep love, it's okay." She says in your ear as she rubs your back. You stop fighting it and allow the much-needed sleep come over you.
The movie finishes and the girls begin cleaning up. Paige never minded hosting knowing all the girls always clean up after themselves. When Paige didn't make a move to help - it caught everyone's eye.
"Bro, you are whipped," Evina says looking down at Paige rubbing your sleeping back.
"I am not - she's my best friend," Paige says making sure she is not talking too loud. She doesn't want to wake you.
"You are wrapped around her finger, there is no trying to hide it," Azzi says with a smile, knowing the full extent of Paige's love for you.
Paige knows she could fight this but also knows that they are right, right as she is about to respond, you begin to stir.
Paige continues to rub circles on your back as your eyes flutter open.
"Is the movie over?" You ask, voice groggy and eyes half closed.
"It is," Paige says in the softest voice. "The girls are about to head out, do you want to say bye?" She says looking up.
You look and see all the girls looking at you in Paige's arms. You can't help but blush and hide your face in Paige's chest causing all the girls to let out 'awws' and coos. You put your hand up and wave at them as they say their goodbyes.
Once they all leave, you prop yourself up on Paige. One hand on the recliner, the other on her stomach to stabilize yourself. You yawn and fall right back into your best friend's arms. Paige lets out a breathy laugh.
"You gonna move so we can go to bed?" She says expecting you to get up and not go right back to where you were.
"Too comfy," you say and nuzzle your face into her with a hum.
Paige can't help but fall more in love with you in these moments.
Her hand comes up to brush some of the hair out of your face and you look up and let out a content sigh.
You hadn't told Paige yet but you ended up not going on the second date with the girl from your class. She was nice but you learned she wasn't what you wanted. You couldn't have what you wanted. And you didn't want the lessons to stop so you opted to keep quiet. Something was better than nothing right?
You are looking into Paige's eyes and can't help but think what this would be like if you admitted your feelings to the girl. Would she reciprocate them? Would she tell you she has loved you as long as you loved her? Or would she run? Say you are nothing but a friend and cause the biggest heartbreak of your life?
Paige is looking down at you, hand still playing with your hair. She could get used to this. Up to this point, she has never wanted to be in a relationship with anyone. She was completely content hooking up with girls when she needed a fix and then coming back to your friendship. But the more she thought about it and the closer she got to you - it had her questioning settling down and making you hers.
Her thumb comes up to rub your cheek and your heartbeat picks up.
Your mind begins to stir.
Your hand comes up to grasp hers, removing it from your face. As you do so you adjust yourself, no longer curling up on her but laying with your stomach on hers. You place the hand that you were holding on your waist, bringing yours back up to cup her neck moving it enough to allow the access you want.
Your lips meet her neck in a gentle kiss, instantly having her craving more. You kiss up her neck to the base of her earlobe, kissing it before bringing it between your lips giving it a little suck.
Paige lets out the most beautiful moan as you feel her fingers tighten their grip around your waist.
"What...what are you doing ma?" She asks, barely able to get the words out before another moan escapes her mouth as you continue to work on her neck.
"You know," you say in between kisses. Hand coming down to the hem of her shirt lifting it just enough to run your fingertips over her torso. "Your moans are like music to my ears."
You begin to kiss your way up to her lips. Right before you reach her lips you pause. Not looking in her eyes, only at her lips.
"How am I doing, 'ma'?" You ask in a borderline teasing tone and use the pet name that would fall from her lips.
It was her turn to bite her lip. You shake your head no.
"If I can't do it, neither can you." You say bringing her lip out from her bite. "And for the record, I just wanted to practice."
You sit up and make your way out of the chair and towards your room.
"You coming to bed, B?" You say innocently like you just didn't turn her on faster than any other girl she has been with.
Paige gets up without a word and follows you into your bedroom.
In the next few days, you and Paige are back to normal. Hanging out with the team, practicing, bugging one another. It was nice. It was normal.
It is game day and the team is in the gym getting ready. You are at your desk reviewing some last-minute plays when Geno comes in and tells you to get out there with the team.
You head to the floor and watch the girls warm up. The game begins and the team is playing extremely well. They are up in the 4th when Paige is hit in the face by a girl from the other team. She falls to the ground holding her face.
You freeze - panic setting in. She stands up and slowly makes her way to the bench, knowing they won't let her play with blood on her face.
Geno is arguing with the ref as you do the same. You hear your name called but ignore it until Azzi comes up and grabs your arm.
"Paige keeps pushing the medic away - will you?" Azzi says as her head nods in the direction of Paige swatting the medic's hand away from her face. You roll your eyes and make your way over.
"B, get your ass over here." You say as you dawn a glove and grab a tissue.
"She flat out hit me in the face and they are calling it a common foul! That is absolute trash!" She says but still makes her way to you.
You put the tissue on her nose and she hits your hand away.
You give her a look, knowing the look will do more than any words could. She stops moving and stands there. You put the tissue up to her nose and hold it there, looking past her at Geno and the refs. When you turn your attention back to the girl in front of you, you see her eyes are closed. She looks peaceful at this moment like she isn't in the middle of a game and didn't just get hit in the face.
Your hand removes the tissue from her nose and you grab her chin, examining her face. Her eyes remain closed only opening when you reach around and tap her ass.
"You're good to go B," you say sending her on her way, only she doesn't move.
"B, go," you say and gesture towards the court.
Paige hesitates before doing her little jump and steps toward the court but not before her hand finds your waist, giving it the all-too-familiar squeeze. Your breath hitches and you shoot her a look.
The team goes on to win the game. Everyone is super excited and decides to go out to a bar to celebrate. You only go because the team insists and you can't say no to the girls.
While the team is out, you decide to have a dry night. The last thing you want is to be trying to corral a group of tipsy girls.
You are sipping a sprite when you hear loud giggling come from your right.
Paige is whispering in a girl's ear causing her to giggle. You try not to pay it any attention but you see the girl's hand come up to Paige's chest and play with her hair.
It makes you sick. Yet, you can't take your eyes off of them. You take another sip of your drink as you watch Paige's hands come up to the girl's waist - a feeling you have grown to crave.
Paige says something in the girl's ear that causes her to nod rapidly and allow Paige to take her hand, leading her away from the bar.
Your stomach drops and you feel your eyes become wet.
'This is so stupid' you think to yourself as you watch them go towards the bathrooms.
You drop some money at the bar, grab your jacket - not wanting to be anywhere near this place, and let one of the girls know you are heading home. Before you reach the door, you feel the first tear fall. Your hand comes up to wipe it away before anyone can see and you make your way home.
To your lack of knowledge, your tears didn't go unseen. Azzi was watching you the whole time Paige was talking to the girl at the bar. Azzi knew the second you heard the giggle that Paige drew from the girl, it would hit your ears. Azzi saw how your demeanor changed when you saw Paige and how you left just as they were heading to the bathroom. Azzi was the only person to see your tears fall as you walked out. She is also the only person in the world who knows that Paige is completely and utterly in love with you.
Paige eventually emerges and finds Azzi. The first thing she does is ask where you are.
"She left..." Azzi says.
"Why? Where did she go?" Paige asks.
Azzi gives Paige a look and Paige knows that you saw her take a girl back. Paige puts the water in her hand and begins to make her way out of the bar.
"Paige!" Azzi yells and catches up to her.
"Let me go, I am going home," Paige says wanting to find you.
Azzi lets out a sigh, not sure what Paige is going to do.
"Maybe you should just give her some space," Azzi says, not wanting to completely out the state that you left in.
"Space?" Paige laughs. "You know better than anyone that I don't want space, especially when it comes to her."
Azzi loves Paige but also knows how big of an idiot Paige can be.
"I am going home and I am spending the rest of the night with my girl," Paige says, completely forgetting she just had her tongue and hands on someone who was most definitely not you.
Just as Paige is about to walk out, Azzi puts her hand up to stop Paige. Right as Paige is about to protest and give some sort of speech she is confused when she sees Azzi's hand come to her shirt.
Paige stands there, as Azzi fixes the mismatched buttons on Paige's shirt then lets the girl go.
Azzi watches her friend go. She sighs and takes a long sip of her drink. She didn't fix the shirt for Paige. She fixed it for you, she couldn't bear the thought of more tears falling over some dumb decision by Paige.
AN: The plot thickens...are you hooked yet? Let me know what you think. And as always, thank you for your love and support 💙
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Time Of Our Lives || Part 4
Part 4:
There was a hand on her boob.
When Liana opened her eyes in complete darkness, it took her a moment to remember where she was.
Art was sick. She was in his room because she wanted to make sure he fell asleep; in reality, she fell asleep herself. Now their legs were tangled, his heavy breaths tickled her neck where his head was buried, one of his hands was holding her waist, and the other, well... it was on her chest.
She knew it wasn’t intentional. None of what happened in the last day was intentional. That’s not her relationship with Art. It’s a glitch in time. One of those moments where the universe collapses into itself and needs to fold a bit to straighten the course. She considered waking him with a sharp movement but remembered how miserable and wretched he looked yesterday. He would cry from embarrassment if she woke him now, with them in this position.
So she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and decided to deal with the problem in the morning, if necessary. She tried to remind herself that the more Art slept, the faster he would recover, and she could return to her routine.
With these thoughts and his breaths as a grounding factor, she managed to fall asleep. When she opened her eyes again, Art was gone.
'The fever broke. Thanks for everything, Li, went for a run' was the message waiting for her on her phone, making her smile unconsciously.
The glitch was over.
The last two months were harder than Art was willing to admit.
The studies and training were grueling. The routine was exhausting.
And Tashi was still in a relationship with Patrick.
Art didn’t know why it bothered him so much. Well, of course he knew. Tashi was the most beautiful girl he had ever met.
But it’s not like he lacked girls around him who were just waiting for him to say hello to jump into his bed.
Maybe he was thinking about it more than usual because lately, Liana didn’t have a free moment. She was stressed from exams and choosing her major. She didn’t tell him that, he just knew her.
Liana was the most calculated person he knew. She made long-term plans, for no real reason. When Patrick would come, she would plan the time she spent with them two weeks in advance. Art knew the uncertainty about her major weighed on her. He also didn’t know how to help her. His life was clear to him; Tennis.
Tennis, family, and Patrick. Everything was clear, easy, and unchallenging.
Patrick was supposed to visit in two days, and Art would never say it out loud because that’s his best friend, but he hated it. He knew Patrick was coming to be with Tashi, that he would waste Liana’s time, and in the end, he wouldn’t have time to sit with him at all. Maybe that’s what made him approach Tashi while she was collecting balls from the court after practice.
“Art...” she said in a dubious voice, not fully understanding what he was doing there. Their schedules almost never overlapped. Their practices were at different times. He thought of inviting her to eat first, using some of his cafeteria points, but he remembered that Liana preferred their cafeteria over the one near her campus.
“Do you need help?” he offered instead.
“Sure, why not.” Tashi shrugged, her voice unconvincing. She knew he wasn’t just here. She knew Patrick was supposed to arrive and that Art was going to say something that would anger her. “I see you want to say something, so just say it.” She placed the basket of balls down, folding her arms.
“Okay.” He sighed, moving towards the bench as she walked after him. “Patrick is coming the day after tomorrow.” He said.
“I’m aware.” Her answers were sharp. She didn’t have time to waste on him and his circling around without saying what he wanted. “Do you want to plan a surprise party or something?” she asked jokingly, trying to move the conversation along.
“Why are you still with him?” He looked her in the eyes, deciding to be direct.
“Excuse me?” She raised an eyebrow, her face changing. She was no longer curious; she was angry.
“He’s in love with Liana.” Art said automatically. He seemed as surprised by the words that came out of his mouth as she did. Patrick is in love with Liana? No way. At least he didn’t think so. So why did he say that? Now the thought that Patrick wanted Liana while he was with Tashi, the most beautiful girl he knew, wouldn’t leave his head. Tashi continued to look at him without saying anything, then chuckled, making him raise an eyebrow.
“No, Art. You’re in love with Liana.” She rolled her eyes, her level of anger rising.
“Absolutely n—” he started to defend himself but was immediately cut off.
“And even if he does. Even if he wants to marry Liana. Even if he’s sure she will be the mother of his children. What do you want from me?!” She shouted the end of the sentence, causing Art to shrink for a moment. “Aren’t you supposed to be his best friend?” she asked, starting to walk away.
“I’m not in love with Liana.” Was all he managed to say in response, “She’s my best friend,” he muttered, quickly following her, not fully understanding why he was explaining this.
“Art,” Tashi suddenly stopped, close to him. “I suggest you open a dictionary to check what ‘best friend’ means and when you understand, don’t cry that you lost yours.” She ended the conversation (which led nowhere) and only pushed him further from his goal and confused him about what the goal even was. Why did he start this?
He hadn’t seen Patrick for too long.
Or Liana.
When Liana entered her room, around midnight, Patrick and Art were there.
“Give me the key!” She extended her hand towards Art, who just smiled. They both knew he wouldn’t give it. “I could have been with someone. I could have entered here with someone, and at the peak of the moment when we enter my room, you’re here!” She raised her voice, but not too loud because the hour didn’t allow it. “I’m not joking, Art, give me the key. You can’t come in here whenever you feel like it! Tell him!” She turned the end towards Patrick. Talking to him as if it were completely natural for him to be at Stanford in the middle of the night.
“Who is this mysterious man she could have entered with at night, Art? I thought you were keeping an eye on her,” Patrick’s voice was amused, but the thought of Liana bringing a random guy to her room didn’t appeal to him.
“That’s why I have a key, to scare off guys she meets in the library. Once, I saw her hanging out with someone who wore Crocs,” he said to him. They talked about her as if she wasn’t there, knowing full well it was the thing she hated most.
“Out. Both of you, out!” She crossed her arms under her chest.
“Hey, Amanda the lowbreaker, are you going to hug me and say hi, or just yell at me?” Patrick understood that her nerves were frayed at this stage of the day.
“Amanda?” Art asked, not understanding what they were talking about.
“She knows.” Patrick didn’t look at Art for a second. He only saw Liana. Her dark hair, identical to his, was tied in a messy ponytail, and there was a coffee stain on her shirt. She looked exhausted, yet she approached him and wrapped her arms around his waist, causing him to close his eyes for a moment. If Patrick could pinpoint the smell he loved most in the world, he would say it was citrus and roses. Liana’s scent. To him, it characterized summer from the moment he met her; smelling it in the middle of the year felt like a bonus. Like a pay raise for a job well done. Even though he knew nothing about his job was going well.
Art cleared his throat, and they separated.
“What are you doing here?” She really sounded exhausted. Like she hadn’t slept in a while.
“I told you I was coming. I put my things in Tashi’s room and wanted to say hi before you go to sleep. We’ll hang out tomorrow, okay?” he asked at the end, his voice begging for a positive response. He couldn’t leave without making the most of the time he had with her. Time she would have to allow.
Art watched the dynamic between them from the side. Thinking about what he said to Tashi; Patrick is in love with Liana. Patrick is in love with Liana. Patrick is in love with Liana. Like a mantra he couldn’t stop hearing for two days. Now also seeing it. Patrick is in love with Liana? Maybe it’s a crush? Art tried to remember how Patrick was with the girls at school, did he hug them for too long? Did they have private jokes? How did he look at them?
“I don’t know if I can, Pat, I have an exam in two days...” her voice was apologetic.
"Then I'll just sit next to you while you study. Come on, you can't say no to me." His smile was genuine, teeth showing. Not a smirk.
"Alright..." Liana shrugged, her tone half-defeated, half-amused. "But you have to promise to behave and let me study," she said with absolute seriousness.
"I'll behave however you want, Amanda. I'll be the quietest, I'll be so good for you. The best boy in the world," he winked. It was objectively funny banter. Tho Art wasn't amused.
"Okay, fuck off, both of you. Now. I want to sleep!" she declared, giving Art a small push, shaking him out of his daze.
Patrick is in love with Liana.
Hey there, me again. Is posting once a day a bit too much? I hope you're enjoying it. Tell me what you think about the characters so far. Also, tell me if you want to be tagged for the next part. Have a great weekend ❤️
taglist:
@swetearss
#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson#patrick zweig#patrick zweig x reader#challengers fic#tashi duncan
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so you said pride month is just another month (honestly it’s kinda the same for me, I also draw lgbt stuff nonstop) but I’m trans and just curious if you have any trans headcanons or anything for characters? (from anything?) or art/design concepts? you have a lot of cool ideas so I decided I’d get over the anxiety of being ignored and ask!! 🥰🥰
(no guilt if you decide not to answer! it’s (my ask) a bit pushy, isn’t it?)
OMG YES I DO HAVE HEADCANONS
i really like the idea of trans tim, but he never tells anyone bc he passes too easily, and BATMAN doesn't notice on tim's files or anything bc they're too busy fighting crime and shit. but when bruce finally finds out, he goes on a transboy dad mode and makes sure that tim has everything that he needs. the bathrooms of the manor are stocked with menstrual hygiene products (not only for tim bc im sure selina mentioned getting her period at his house ONE TIME, and he asked alfred to stock up). bruce redesigns the robin suit to have a safe binder that would be comfortable for tim.
tim doesn't get top surgery until he's living at the marina because he finally felt safe enough knowing there would be a community that not only understands but KNOWS how to take care of him post-surgery. i dont think most of the bat family knows that he's trans (but that's just because he forgets about it too), so he demanded a week off from the vigilante life in order to get top surgery and recover (it takes a lot longer than that, but you know how tim is) and the bats that didn't know started freaking out wondering what the fuck was going on.
jack drake also completely forgot tim was trans (as in he thinks tim amab) so when tim asked to go on T he was like???
anyways, these are my headcanons for now, i could probably talk about this forever lol i have not made any art for it yet, but 6 pride month, so maybe i will. altho, like i said, im queer 24/7, so i might pull up with trans art anytime
and cue shameless self-promotion because the main character of lonely prince club is trans too!
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🎒✏️🍎 weekend activity for littles! turn your house into a school! 🍎✏️🎒
prepare your schedule the night before! what classes will you do at what time? what order will you do them in? write it down! set alarms on your phone for when each class will be, so you know when to switch!
don’t forget to prepare worksheets, activities, and make sure you know what rooms you’re using! if you have a cg, this job is best suited for them!
class ideas: math, spelling, writing, social studies/history, science, art, music, etc!
“downtime” class ideas: naptime, free time, movie time, free draw, computer lab, play time
wake up bright and early! get dressed, brush your teeth, brush your hair, and get your school supplies! go into the room that you’ve designated as your classroom!
if you have a cg, have them be your teacher for the day! if you don’t have one, that’s okay! you can do all of this by yourself pretty easily.
if the room has a closet, use that as your cubby! hang up your bag and any other belongings in it!
get ready for your school day! sit down on the floor like you would in a preschool or kindergarten classroom, and get ready to learn!
ideas on what to do for each class under the cut (to avoid this post being way too long!)
math
print out some math worksheets (or download and do them digitally, bonus points if it’s on a tablet with a stylus for extra realism!) and work on them! do whatever level of math is most accessible to you!
count stuff! count your toys, blocks, stuffies, anything! make problems and equations by taking away items, adding items, dividing items, etc and solve them!
play math games! multiplication .com has a lot of accessible math games, or you can use the flashpoint program to play math games from your favorite tv shows!
ELA
print/download handwriting practice sheets and practice writing your letters!
if you have a cg with you, have them read a book out loud to you! make sure to pay attention, and be prepared to write about what was just read to you!
read your favorite book, and create a book report based on it with pictures and decorations!
do spelling worksheets and exercises!
social studies
practice geography by identifying states or countries on an unlabeled map! start with your own country, then move on to other countries to make it more challenging!
learn about history by watching educational history cartoons!
do a cultural interview! find someone in your life whether it be a friend, a partner, or a family member and interview them about their heritage and culture! if you can’t find someone, write about your own culture!
science
use a store bought science kit and play around with it! write down everything you’ve learned.
make slime or oobleck! there’s countless recipes online that teach you how to make them! they’re both super easy to make.
draw a diagram of our solar system! label the planets properly and write one fact about each one!
art
draw your family! could be your biological or found family!
finger paint!
watercolor paint!
make pottery out of clay or play doh!
make a collage of your favorite things! print out pictures of stuff you like and glue it to a piece of paper!
music
sing along to your favorite songs! pull up sing-along versions of songs from disney movies or karaoke versions of your favorite songs!
if you have any kind of instrument, play it! try to play simple songs on it like mary had a little lamb or hot cross buns!
if you’re regressed a bit older, study sheet music! teach yourself what all the symbols mean!
nap time
take a 30 minute break to nap, or just lay down and rest! put on a soft lullaby or a quiet song you really like.
to make it more “school-like”, nap on the floor! preferably on a fluffy rug or mat, so it isn’t uncomfortable or bad for your back! lay out your favorite blanket, pillow, stuffie, and hit the hay!
play time / free time
just play!!! have fun and play with your toys, your stuffies, play dress up, etc!
if it’s nice outside, go play outside!
draw a picture!
read your favorite book!
if you’re an over-achiever, do some more worksheets!
computer lab
go on your computer or laptop if you have one, and play some educational games, watch educational videos, etc!
when you’ve done an adequate amount of learning, you earn free time! use this to play any fun game you want! (minecraft, roblox, animal jam, fun flash games, etc!)
field trips
(may require a cg if you can’t take yourself places when small!)
take a trip to a museum!
go to the library! find a cool book you find interesting and read it!
take a walk around town! write down all the interesting things you find in nature like animals, bugs, plants, etc!
end of the day
when your “school day” ends, have your cg grade how you did! if you don’t have a cg, grade yourself! but be honest, of course. if you get a good grade, you’ll get a reward!
i know this is elaborate and may seem silly, but i’ve heard a lot of littles say an elementary school environment would be really beneficial to them! i hope this helps some of you who are yearning for that!
#︶︶ ˚ babbling#age regression#sfw age regression#sfw agere#age regressor#noncom agere#agere blog#sfw littlespace#agere#agere classroom#agere activities#safe agere#agedre#sfw agedre#sfw age dreaming#age dreaming
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please please tell me how u perceive ellabs 😭😭😭 from a shipping standpoint😭😭 also i love ur art so much
Abby has always been number one. From being Jerrys daughter, to becoming the WLFs top Scar killer, to leading her entire friend group into a murder plot with her, etc. Abby has always been the one to take the lead and do whatever she wants by her own command because she has never not gotten what she’s wanted. When that attitude got the best of her in the end (her friends turning on her, realizing what they had participated in was fucked up, etc.) she became prideful and cowardly. Lev was able to reinvent that attitude with her by giving her a purpose to protect and love someone more than herself. Lev let her have a break for once, gave her a chance to have her guard down, and not always have to feel stoic. She stood up to the only person who could crumble her *just* a bit (Isaac) and Ellie, who unknowingly had been leading her down a death trap. Even when figuring that out, Abby never backed down, Abby still got the upper hand, Abby still had what Ellie wanted- someone to care about her and her life.
Now Ellie on the other hand? Ellie has NEVER had it easy. Grew up an orphan, was a bit of a loner without Riley, was regarded as a “sad kid” by Winston, the only adult who ever really gave her the time of day. This girl has been searching for love and support her entire life. Despite her bratty attitude and hotheaded tendencies, no matter what, shes always a softie. And when she gets fixated on anything, it becomes her purpose and the force that pushes through whatever situation shes in- on a lighter note, Savage Starlight quotes, on a darker note, Abby. Ellie finds strength in just *doing*. She doesn’t need to force anyone to abide by her order (unless you wanna argue Nora, but even then, what a sloppy attempt at getting her way). She steam rolls any situation she thinks is gonna get her to her goal (jumping off the bridge into the water with Joel, the entirety of Seattle Day 2 and 3, becoming a deadbeat).
And together? You get two women who come from remarkably different upbringing’s and backgrounds, who in the end, crave to care for and to be cared about. Abby who has the explicit need to put herself in any dangerous position, knowing she can get out of it unscathed, with the entire goal of making sure what she cares about makes it through safely. Ellie, who has only ever fought through survival, to not have to do it anymore. Who can just feel protected and at peace. Abby, who is meticulous in her planning and execution, Ellie, rough around the edges and will figure it out when she gets there.
Despite how opposite they are in those regards, they are similar in their unifying need to find inner peace and strive to do their best. Both of them are incredibly strong people- and together, in any dynamic and in any situation they must get through together, I perceive Abby to be the one who is more level-headed, less inclined to blindly walk into Ellies fire, and to take the reigns in any struggle they get themselves in. To guide Ellie down the smarter, albeit longer path, and for Ellie to complain and annoy her to every end because she thinks being safer is worse than being in a rush. Ellie, the tough, agile little moth who learned everything on her own and by Joels hand, who can cut through 7 men at a time and is quick on her fight or flight. Abby, the trained in combat ex-soldier who can wipe out any path she needs to get through just by one intimidating scowl.
This is an interpretation based on canon, i could talk in circled about them for hours. So heres a little tidbit of what i perceive them as as individuals but how those traits work together.
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dilf-next-door! art has me 😩 i just feel like he doesn't understand how good he looks. he knows that his body is bad. i mean he's an athlete after all. he's trained for years with the best personal trainers, had the best diet, still works himself to the bone, but he just doesn't see himself as super hot dilf. after years of his body just being a machine for tennis and all the choices for it being made by others, it doesn't feel like his body. it's just a vehicle to get things done. thinking about how infuriating and baffling it would be to hear him talk about himself like that. so you'd have to show him how wrong he was. you have him lay back on the bed and sit in between his legs. trace your fingers all over his arms and chest down to his stomach. rub his abs while you coo at him. he'd stare at you in awe because it all feels unique. being complimented so much and his position, it'd look submissive to an outside eye but everything you do is for him to recieve.
"most handsome man i've ever seen, art. so strong and fit. love it when you wrap your arms around me. make me feel so close to you and safe. and your legs, they're so strong too. feel hard under me. most guys my age don't even take care of themselves like you do. but all you do is work... and i think you deserve a reward."
just worship his body for the night. lick from his abs up to his chest and then kiss his neck. rub yourself on his thigh and tell him how good it feels. don't let him do any of the work aside from being able to feel you up however he wants. take his hands into yours when he grabs at your tits or hip, tell him how thick his fingers are and how good they feel when they're inside you. make it slow and thorough before you move on to the very hard thing in his boxers.
-☕
cock worship with art..... head fuzzy..... he's so used to giving, and he prefers it that way - you can tell he's not used to it. his body is tense and nearly buzzing with the urge to sit up, to put his hands on you, but you'd looked up at him with your big doting eyes and pleaded with him, genuinely pleaded - like it was something you wanted (it was), to take care of him, to please him - and that doesn't really compute to him - cant work his brain around it - but he can't deny you anything, is the thing. telling you no is worse than getting a blowjob, he's not so deep in his issues with self worth that he'd make a big fuss about you putting your mouth on his body. its the staying still that he has trouble with.
you can tell with every twitch and jump of his muscles as you skim your mouth down his toned body. he hisses and jolts when you lick around the hard peaks of his nipples. "sorry," you giggle, moving down to his stomach. his hard stomach - god - "they looked cold. wanted to warm them up."
"jesus." you peer up at him to see his gaze is cast to the ceiling, like he cant look at you. it makes you smile, you know he doesn't get it but you're having the time of your life here. his perfectly toned, tight, rigid body. warm and solid under you, you cant help rubbing your cheek against his hip, nuzzling into the toned muscle of his thigh. he's so beautiful. theres so much power here - locked tight under skin and bones and muscle mass - all perfectly crafted, because even still he cares about his body, cares to keep it fit. and you'd love him no matter what he looked like, soft and round, short and stout, but just as he is - an athletes body, hes a marvel.
so much care and time spent into looking this way, and he expexts you not to appreciate it? not to drool over him? insanity.
"you're so strong," you coo at him. rub you hands up his twitching thighs. he doesn't have alot of hair - but he has some fuzz. your fingers find the band of his boxers, his hips lift the slightest bit with an inhale and you smile again - knowing that he loves this, needs this even if he wont admit it - he loves this - he wants this so bad - to be selfish. to be worshipped and shown love. to be desired and hungered for. and you're so hungry. "i think about you all the time, you know. your body - your cock -" your voice sounds like you're waxing poetry, your nose nudging up the cotton of his boxers, "i think about it all the time. drives me crazy. you drive me so fucking crazy."
"baby," he sounds pained. you see his hands twitch on the sheets, curl into fists, the effort not to touch you has to be driving me just as insane. "fuck, you dont - y-you dont have to say - "
"im not just saying it." you interrupt. "i mean it. i love -" the heat of his cock radiates from the thin cotton - you press your face against him through it. feel the hard organ jump under your lips. "-your big fat cock." your cunt is throbbing. you don't tug his boxers down yet, mouthing at him, your lips find the tip of him through the fabric and you pull it into your mouth, dampening the cotton - tasting the salt even now. moaning around it.
"oh god," he's trembling. he loses the battle and you feel his hands touch you, you don't ask him to keep still anymore, because you know hes not fighting this anymore, fighting you. one of his hands card through your hair, big palm cradling the back of your head. the other coming up to tug at his boxers. "please - "
you lift your chin, help him in shoving his boxers down - until they're resting under his balls, you take a moment to admire them - fat and plump and pink - try not to drool at the way his hard cock bounces free and rests against his hard stomach. a bead of pre already pearling out from his slit, leaking.
you fail on the not drooling. your mouth filling with spit. "please, what. what do you want me to do art?"
because he'll feel so free once he says it. admits it. gives in.
he meets your eyes and you try not to be turned on by the desperate almost panicked look in his gaze, like the enormity of his own desire scares him. his lips are puffy and bitten red and he naws and naws on them, before he lifts his hand, fingers feathering over your cheek. reverent. you watch his adams apple bob as he swallows.
and then art donaldson demands something from you for the first time. the hand cupping the back of your neck, urging you forward, towards his hard aching cock thats been neglected for far too long.
"make me cum."
#ask#WEEEWOOOOWEEEEWOOOOWEEEEEWOOOOOO#gotta train art to be more selfish#☕️ anon#HEHEHEHE#art donaldson smut#art donaldson x reader
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Genres: Slice-of-life, coming of age, comedy, drama, romance, parody
Status: No public demo, outline written, release date November 2024
Rating: 15+
Content Warnings: Violence, language, bullying, depression + depiction of other mental illnesses, manipulation, tba
Inspired by those Disney Channel movies (you know which ones) and The Parent Trap.
As a 17 (soon to be 18) year old senior, you are anxiously awaiting for the day you graduate, pack your bags, and ditch Sunnyview, the sleepy, incredibly boring, town that you have grown up in all your life. It has been your dream for as long as you can remember—sometimes you can almost taste freedom on your tongue, so close yet so far away.
But one day, all of that changes when the filming for a movie is announced near your hometown. Not only is it a Stephen Zuckerberg, but it stars the recent award-winning actor Taylor Victory. Their presence stirs great interest and excitement in your small town. You did not care much about the actor beyond your keen interest in Stephen Zuckerberg movies, or at least, you thought you did not.
Until you have a chance encounter with the one and only Taylor Victory, and you notice the eerie facial similarities you share with them. Thus, a deal is struck between you.
You will swap places with each other—Taylor will experience a normal week of high school as you, and you will live the life of an actor in their place. Plus, their offer of money doesn't quite hurt, and with it you would have enough to leave Sunnyview.
Oh, how little did you realize how much trouble you were about to get yourself into.
↬ customize your name, nickname, gender, looks, personality, etc.! however you will think of yourself as a "regular, ordinary" person living a boring life.
↬ taylor's gender, pronouns, and looks will be identical to yours (with a few modifications)!
↬ take the place of a famous teen actor and perhaps get to film a few scenes. lie, cheat, gaslight, manipulate; whatever it takes to convince others that you are who you say you are. otherwise...
↬ fall in love with your best friend, the popular kid (aka your crush), your "co-star," or no one. break or make your relationships with them.
↬ celebrate your 18th birthday as taylor and all by yourself.
↬ attend prom as yourself. or taylor? you aren't quite sure what it is yet.
Taylor Victory (gender based on MC) → The Identical Twin
The actor who became well-known for their lead role in the romcom movie "High Love" and won awards for it. Ever since Victory entered the entertainment industry at the age of 5, they have never been able to live a "normal" life. Until, that is, they meet you. They are charming, suave, and everything that you imagine an actor to be. Especially their cockiness.
Maxie Yang (gender selectable) → The Best Friend
You have known them ever since you were in diapers; your sweet, quirky, and incredibly reliable best friend since forever. They have always cherished you and you to them, acting as your shield when you used to be heavily bullied in middle school. They have a remarkable passion for art and is a total geek for mythology. Years later, Maxie remains the same as ever, though sometimes you catch their adoring gaze at you. Do they...no, probably not.
Tropes: friends to lovers, unrequited pining (on their part)
Kelsey Lovelock (gender selectable) → The Crush
Kelsey Lovelock is one of the popular kid at school...and has also been your longtime crush since 8th grade. You don't remember when it first began, but they have always treated you nice enough even if their friends are assholes and made your life hell the years before and during. Charismatic and currently in the running nominations for Prom King/Queen. They likely do not feel anything for you considering how little you have talked to them in your final year of high school…and they are dating someone else.
Tropes: acquaintance to friends to lovers, unattainable
Peyton Ryans (gender selectable) → The Co-star
Taylor's co-star in their upcoming movie together. And for whatever reason, they seem to hate Taylor with a passion. Unfortunately, they play as the protagonist (that's Taylor)'s love interest, so you often have to make contact with them. Perhaps you could try to persuade them to see a "different" side of Taylor and change their view. It all depends on how you play the game—just hope they don’t find you out.
Tropes: enemies to lovers, coworkers
FAQ
#swapped-if#if#interactive fiction#twine if#twine wip#if: intro#slice of life#coming of age#drama#romance#parody#cyoa#upcoming if#interactive game
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hi! in the spirit of Dreamling Week, here is an updated masterlist, now with clickable links to tags to follow along with a series :) welcome to my corner of the fandom, where it's predominantly human aus!
in time, all of my fics will be transferred to Ao3, so if you're interested in that, follow along here! this list will (finally) include (some) links to fics ive tagged on in reblogs that i usually ignore... but not this time! :'D Everything here is complete unless otherwise stated: (wip)
G - T Rated:
tepid - 1.3k canon, Dream can get sleepy, too
Stay - 1.7k hurt/comfort, vague mafia vibes
the date that never ended - 1.2k humor, established relationship
You Know How That Thrills Me - 2.2k The Devil Wears Prada AU, + blog tag which includes fanart, here!
savvy? - 1.2k pirate au! Hob rescues Dream
daydream - 1.1k fake dating, UST, fitting room pining
Exit Wounds - 2.1k hurt/no comfort, infidelity, angst
call me back for more - 2k NYE, strangers to lovers, sexual tension
scratch a little itch - 5.6k neighbors, pastry chef!Dream and professor!Hob
The magic of the mistletoe - xmas fic, canon
Hob grieves over Dream - canon, vague comic spoilers, angst
Cowboy AU (snippet) - aka Charro!Dream, Mexican rodeo vibes + blog tag with lots of art and collaborators :)
spin the bottle - highschool setting, friends to lovers
Reason in the Noise - 3k+ (wip) musician!Dream, companion piece to Bolt in the Blue (but can be read as a standalone)
Retired!Dream with facial hair along with part 2! - canon(ish), domestic, light spice
The Parent Trap AU and part 2! - loosely inspired by the film.
Hob walks in on Dream dancing - musician!Hob and Dream dancing to his music. marshmallow fluff.
Personal Chef!Hob, single dad Dream - what it says on the tin, part two here! and my 'chef Hob au' tag full of art and recipes!
NYE and slightly possessive Hob - another obligatory New Years Eve fic
The Proposal AU and also a part two! - a couple silly romcom things in collaboration with valiantstarlights here's the tag for it!
Bday fic for ambarden - the night before college graduation, pining,
Road Trip - the start of an idea...
ASMR youtuber!Dream - an add on... Hob is a fan. meet cute
Hard of Hearing Dream - pining, bittersweet, friends to lovers
Spicy/NSWF fics under the cut!
M - E Rated:
Bolt in the Blue - 102k+ (wip) the epic band au, slice of life, fluff, touring. see everything related to this fic in the tag fic: bolt in the blue
skipping breakfast - 667w domestic and a lil spicy
obsession - 1.6k canon, making out on the dancefloor
Fin de siècle - 3.2k vampire hunter!Hob and vampire!Dream
parked - 1.1k canon, car sex, PDA
tease - 1.3k Dream has a vulva, Hob fingers him in a car
ushy gushy pussy Dream - and he refuses to get off Hob's cock
Mr. Gadling's Bodyguard - 11.7k The Hitman's Bodyguard AU, action, humor... second chapter does not relate to the film at all and is just smut
Savory & Sweet - 6k+ (wip) restaurant au, unhinged behavior
Let Me Down Easy - 21k photographer!Hob and model!Dream but they're exes. angst with a happy ending
never enough - 7.3k friends to lovers, love confessions, mutual pining
turn the lights off - 3.3k phone sex, side fic inspired by by the minute by issylra
kiss me properly (and pull me apart) - 4.2k Hob wears a butt plug all day (lol) inspired by this incredible art by messmonte
Dream stepping on Hob - power imbalance, PWP
Bathtub shenanigans - a bit of relaxation ;)
Hob as Sexy Santa - and Dream can't handle it
Celebrity Dream and his normie bf Hob - inspired by that 3am photo of Ferdie looking all sweaty and disheveled
One of Your Girls AU - an ask fic/prompt i sent to Gabe and she added on <3
Let Me Down Easy [deleted scene] - they get frisky the morning after
Dream can feel Hob's lewd daydreams
Bi-curious Dream - basically a summary/headcanon of what i think Dream having his bi awakening with Hob would be like. and then hardly-an-escape went and wrote a full ass fic about it. but im counting this anyway lmao
#my writing
btw i am so sorry, yes i did give up on including the word count. i just... gave up. but everything without a word count is most likely under 1.5k.
#dreamling#hob x dream#dreamling week 2024#dreamling week#ahhhh holy guacamole ive written a lot#so weird to see it all at once#my writing
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lover boy — 양정원 YJW | pt.4
genre: opposites attract, good boy!jungwon x popular!reader (fem), college au, semi smau
taglist (open): @hollyoongs @moon7jay @wondipity @fertilizedtoesw @kwiwin @dimplewonie @wvnkoi @enhabooks @ilovejungwonandhaechan @suhiiiies-blog
prev | next
DAY 3.
"jungwon pleaseeeee"
your last class had ended about an hour ago, and jungwon did not seem to budge from where he was sitting. the sandwich he was eating seemed far more interesting than your cries and pleas. he was teasing you, and you knew it, but you'd do anything to go to the museum with him.
"i didn't think you could be this annoying," he sighed. you had been pulling at the sleeves of his shirt, making it difficult for him to take a bite of his food. you had also been calling him "lover boy" over and over. he still hated the name, even though it came from you. would he ever learn to like it? You were playing with fate by calling him that. he could either give in or get angry and leave.
to your luck, he gave in. the two of you walked the way there, a suggestion made by you. In your defense, it wasn't so far, and you needed some exercise anyway. you linked your arm with his and talked all the way to the museum. jungwon knew how much you talked, but he liked it. in fact, he would rather hear you talk for the rest of his life than stay in silence.
when you arrived, you almost ran inside—almost. jungwon was quick enough to grab your arm and pull you back, threatening to buy a backpack with a leash like the ones used for little kids for you. this made you pout in response, babbling about how he didn't let you express your excitement and that he was, in fact, almost holding you hostage.
he was always amazed at how dramatic you could get, but it made him laugh every time. jungwon had remembered how you mentioned coming to this museum often when you were younger, knowing almost every piece and its story by heart.
yet, you never grew tired of it. you were so loud that you'd draw attention to both of you, and this would make jungwon extremely nervous. but then he'd look at your intertwined hands and how your eyes sparkled with everything you saw, and suddenly he didn't mind the eyes on him at all.
art had always found a way to talk to his heart, but you were his favorite piece.
© glitterjay | tumblr
#— ✿ c's work!#enhypen#enhypen smau#enhypen au#enhypen imagines#enhypen x reader#enha smau#enha imagine#engene#kpop#yang jungwon#jungwon#enhypen jungwon#jungwon x reader
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IWTV S2 Ep4 Musings - Random (Spoilers)
IWTV's the type of show you need SEVERAL hours to unpaack--this is just the odds & ends I don't have as much to comment on. (I've queued five Ep4 musings for this evening, that are way more character/plot-heavy.)
Go AWF, Eglee! (Now I get why she lunged at Celeste like that--she was after Eglee's man!)
If someone don't get this Bilbo Baggins lookin arse ghoul TF off Louis' case--!
Sure, Mr. I Do Not Consider Myself Abused.
I hope they do, Louis, I'm not even joking. I'd love to see a whole new wave of TVC-based academia come out in AMC's wake. There's A LOT to chew on.
Get this pretty bish off my dang screeeeen.
At first I thought Daniel was referring to Lestat here, but Les isn't Lou's biographer. But I guess he meant because Les was commenting so much on everything in Louis' life at that time.
That cuck chair cost 10 million dollars, Armand.
I feel SO bad for him, if he didn't realize HOW MUCH Lestat was around--I KNOW Louis hallucinated Les while they were banging. 😬
😱
🤦
Daniel, you gigantic unmitigated MORON. 🤦 WHYYYYYYY would you reveal your hand like that?! This dude is SLIPPING. 😩
So Loumand kept dead victims saran-wrapped (bleh) in their flat, and let Daniel just stroll on in--"don't be afraid, just start the tape." No wonder Daniel called it a "dump."
Who's being reported missing/dead on the news? What's Armand mean by that being "enterprising/fascinating"? Daniel's penchant for following the scoop on gritty gory crimes?
But then Armand implied that in high school Daniel raped a girl and made her wear a paper bag over her head so he wouldn't have to look at her, not caring when she cried. 😱 And it was that "splinter of coldness in you" that made him fascinating to Armand. GOD. Anne Rice would be proud.
Louis look ready to reach over and wring Daniel's neck. 😅
Bienecke Library in New Haven is at Yale--they collect rare books & stuff. Lemme find out the Talamasca's posted up there. "Post-war reconstruction of Paris"--that's good, nice work, COLLECT YOURSELF.
Psst! I wouldn't touch that, knowing where it's been. 🤢🐀🐀🐀
Not this knockoff Lestat strutting around in housecoats. 😂
😨 I'm boycotting AMC & cancelling my AMC+ subscription.
So Loumand/Armand's art dealing was Louis' thing initially--I like it! He needs a job. I can imagine him at Sothebys or Christies or something.
If only Armand knew Florence told Louis "Don't come back, fragile son...." Louis and Marius both managed to capture the soul of Armand in art--I need to lay down.
THIS CREEP'S TRYNA STEAL ARMAND'S PHOTO! 😱 What a wanker! Literally! Dang, even in the 1940s Armand's not safe from pervs! 😩
Is this thievin pervin swindlin a-hole tryna warn MY Louis!?
(YES, actually, Louis; you DO.) Was it that Alois creep? Did Lou EVER have the correct photos? Is there a Talamasca mole in the archival staff? (Is it Rashid, LOL?) Or, god forbid, Alderman Fenwick was right all along (boo!): "You're a dumb pimp who got robbed blind years ago." A SPY'S afoot!
The jumpscares this episode are RELENTLESS! That startled me! 😅 And OUCH about the ageism. (NO ONE stood around clutching their pearls when Armand chokeslammed a little Black girl not THIRTY SECONDS AGO, but suddenly everyone's aghast that Armand hemmed up this old buffoon?!)
The SOUND I just made. XD
The coup's already happened--Loumand just doesn't know it yet. U_U
#interview with the vampire#iwtv season 2 spoilers#iwtv tvc metas#iwtv spoilers#the hype is real#must see tv
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four sides and a bottom
Character: Kaveh
— a box full of your things, that’s it, that’s all
CWs: gn!reader (you/your), ANGST, hurt/no comfort, aftermath of a breakup
val’s no sympathy november masterlist
gonna apologize for dipping for so long but i'm also warning you that it could very much happen again <3 also i'm a little rusty with writing pls be nice to me :(
Kaveh wishes your relationship could’ve ended on good terms. He wouldn’t be able to kiss you or cuddle up to you with a glass of wine after a tough day, but at least you would still be his life. That and that alone would be good enough for him.
On rougher days, the words you spoke echo in his head, disrupting him as he goes about his day. When his mind isn’t occupied it’ll wander to the last day he was able to call you his, making even simple tasks like working or making a cup of coffee painful. A pang in his heart followed by an uncomfortable weight on his chest, throat blocked, barely able to breathe.
“We’re done Kaveh. No more, I can’t keep doing this!” The architect squeezes his eyes shut, willing away the repeat of the past. Without thinking, he takes his almost forgotten glass and downs a greedy gulp of the dark red liquid, the sweet yet bitter drink coating his throat and stomach, making his head spin and his heart beat just the way he likes it - stuttering and skipping as if to stop and bypass the thoughts he’d rather forget.
As much as the deadline loomed over him, Kaveh couldn’t, for the life of him, work on his latest project. Instead, his eyes kept trailing to the box pushed against his closet, the contents overflowing and peeking out for the world to see. By the fourth glance he groans and stands up, chair dragging along the wood floor and nearly toppling over from the force.
Some days he doesn’t know why he keeps this box of reminders around, other times he knows exactly why. People will cling to the last things they own when it affects them so greatly in life. You, by far, were one of the greatest effects on him.
There’s a clink and a thud as Kaveh sets the box of your things on the table, and it’s almost sad how he’s able to identify exactly what made each noise. He’s only memorized everything in it a dozen and a half times after all. A pocket watch, a picture frame, a scarf, a sketchbook, a ring. Meaningless things on their own or to the outside eye, but to you and Kaveh, they meant the world.
Clear as water he could remember when he gifted each of these to you, save the frame and picture. That was your own doing, something you had set on your desk because you liked looking at how happy you both were that day (or so you said - he thinks it's just because you liked looking at him specifically).
He’d given you the scarf to stay warm one night, the watch because you said it had a pretty design (you scolded him a little after finding out he almost spent all his mora on it for you as a gift. You were still touched nonetheless though). The sketchbook was given after you let slip that sometimes you liked to doodle. You always said you didn’t feel as talented as he was, but he’d always shoot back and say that as long as you appreciated the art of it all, the process, and you drew with a smile, then anything you drew was perfect (you were perfect).
The ring was a promise, one that he hadn’t intended to break. This gift you were too speechless to get on his case about financially because the words of love, dedication and loyalty that he added along meant the world to you. The promise to love you forever, to always take into consideration your feelings, and to one day make you his.
In some poetic, way maybe each item was an accumulation of things he was willing to give, when the reality was that you only needed him. Thinking on it now, it hurts more knowing that his absence was what caused your split in paths. Then again…
“Everything hurts when I’m not with you… I miss you.”
Tag list (both regular and event exclusive): @spoopy-fish-writes // @that-enby-alien // @xenuuu // @kaeyaloml // @mariposa666haruka // @quackquackmfs // @kunikuzushiii // @genshin-impact-writings // @ventisweetheart // @lordbugs // @leena-shi // @ari-the-wr1ter // @xiaos-wife // @milkwithspiceyicecubes // @stygianoir // @francisnyx // @leemidnightmoon // @bisexuawolfsalt
+
@kaiserkisser // @multipleshadesofblue // @moloteco-real // @kithewanderingme // @scaramood // @ii-lily2 // @esuz // @kochothehoe // @cindywasneverhere // @kaeyastittysucker
#val's nsn#kaveh x reader#genshin x reader#genshin kaveh#genshin angst#kaveh x gender neutral reader#genshin impact kaveh#kaveh genshin#genshin impact#genshin x you#genshin x gender neutral reader#genshin impact x reader#kaveh angst#kaveh x reader angst
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shifting tips / advice that don’t suck !
♡getting offline.
i know i know it’s hard, but being bombarded with different information about a certain topic can be so overwhelming & create room for overthinking which can effect performance. looking in places outside of shiftok or shiftblur or shift whatever. putting more effort into trying to figure out what something is instead of doing it will drive you insane because there is no answer to what shifting is. hence, “theories” & shared experiences. there is no concrete reasoning to shifting backed by science so don’t try & find them or you’ll be looking forever.
♡music.
did you know you can use music to manipulate memories ? the brain is so so bad at remembering things due to how much information we consume daily. when you visualize & listen to a sound or music, your brain can register that as a memory.
♡smell.
this one also aligns with the one above. smell is heavily tied to memory, also. by watching a show we are shifting to & pairing it with a certain scent like a perfume or candle, we can create a link between the two. then, spraying during shifting attempts can help us visualize & associate that piece of media with where we’re focusing on.
♡shadow work.
find out why you’re shifting. happiness ? you don’t need to shift for that. love ? you don’t need to shift for that. if you want to that’s fine but is shifting a bandaid for something deeper ? discover that. really think & consider where you’re going & if you’re in the right mentality to handle it. you aren’t in a television show episode or an oc, you’ll be a living human being in a very real & interactive world. figure out your intentions.
♡put in effort.
this may be a little obvious but you have to want to shift, to shift. you have to put in work & effort to shift & take another approach if doing the same method 10x over hasn’t worked for you. “we shift every second” sure but you didn’t shift into your desired reality in the past thirty. “im saying an affirmation & rolling over & hoping ill wake up in my dr” & how has that worked out for you ? just because this has maybe worked for other people, doesn’t mean it'll work for you. everyone is different. people require more time & effort to get something right then others just like subjects like art or english come easier to students.
♡perfection.
not everything has to be perfect. script isn’t completed ? so what ? you’ve been saying “im not ready yet” for the five months. don’t put off good things out of fear of them not being exactly how you want it because it will never be perfect because perfection isn’t real. if you don’t have everything figured out — that’s fine. why ? because life will sort itself out. this remains true right here & in your desired life. if it’s any comfort, everything will fall into place.
♡neutrality.
if you’re someone who wakes up after an attempt saying “i’ll never shift, i hate this reality” then you’re kinda sabotaging yourself in a way. your creating the mindset that this is the “bad” place when shifting is “good”. that’s not true. everything is entirely neutral until you define it as such. in addition, you are focusing more on the “haven’t” & giving that more attention to & what you give attention to will only grow until it’s so big you can’t see anything else.
♡listening.
people who want things don’t sit & complain about not having them, they persist & would do anything to get their desires & live in that reality. instead of saying “i didn’t shift” & sulking about it, take it as a learning experience to see what does & doesn’t work for you; your body is showing you what not to do so listen to yourself.
#desired reality#reality shifting#shiftblr#shifting#shiftok#shifting motivation#shifting realities#shifter
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