Tumgik
#because i feel like i have a few of these
meidui · 2 days
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“It kinda feels personal.” | for @catws-anniversary ♡
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the violence of the dog days.
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pairing: jeongguk x reader
summary: In the midst of summertime, after a week of neglect, your boyfriend has a way of making you feel even more heated.
OR
you're hot and horny for jeongguk.
rating: mature🔞 (minors please dni)
genre: non-idol au, college au, established relationship, smut, fluff, pwp
word count: 9.2k words of unadulterated smut.
warnings: reader and jeongguk are absolute horny simps for each other, but they're also so inlove, soft boyfriend jeongguk (because yes that is a warning), jeongguk is a law student (oof), overuse of the petname 'baby', reader hasn't been getting it seven days a week😔, switch jeongguk (kinda), hair pulling, hickeys, making out, thigh riding, nipple play (jeongguk is proudly a boob guy), religious imagery because jeongguk worships reader like a god, usage of the words 'c*nt' and 'p*ssy' (because i know some people are iffy about that), cunnilingus (f-receiving), jeongguk is low-key a sadist y'all (in his fantasies), a bit of dom/sub dynamics, prayers for reader because jeongguk's got that big d🙏🏽, unprotected sex, doggy style, degradation, a teeny weeny bit of overstimulation, creampie - like this is just pure smut guys 😬, possessive sex, choking, aftercare, reader kinda hints at having attachment issues (but don't we all).
author's note: 1. please ignore any typos :). of course, i'd appreciate any feedback or constructive criticism. but if you find yourself uncomfortable by any of the themes in this fic, there's no need for hate, just kindly move on. 2. also, this is a lot longer and softer than i intended. this fic was supposed to be purely hard smut, but i fell in love with the characters and their relationship, and some aspects of the story just turned out sickeningly sweet - so proceed with caution.
You're an hour into tossing and turning when you can't take it anymore.
The heat.
With June coming to a close end, the surviving remnants of summer creep in through your bedroom window with barely a whisper of a breeze. It clings to every part of your skin, that ever-lingering humidity thickening the air, and wraps itself around your body like a cloak. For some reason, you thought that scrolling aimlessly through the various apps on your phone would help distract your mind from the muggy weather or maybe, by some miracle, even lull you to sleep.
But it hasn’t—of course it hasn't. Because summer is here to stay, burrowing deep within your bones and making a home there. Each passing minute is a testament to that, insomnia creeping up your spine with ill intent and wriggling into every cranny of your mind until you feel like you're losing it.
Perhaps you are, you think.
Because when the desk fan a few feet away suddenly stops whirring and the fumbling grasp you had on sleep slips from your reach like a fleeting dream in the morning light as a result of it—drifting further and further away—you hit your breaking point. The lack of white noise and cool air blowing your way mounts your frustration into place. It hangs there in the ether like a looming shadow but, unlike your slumber, has no plans of deserting you.
With an annoyed huff, you drop your phone back onto the nightstand for the umpteenth time and kick your leg out from under the duvet.
“Fuck.” You sigh, rolling onto your back.
A thin sheen of sweat lingers on the surface of your skin, causing the sheets to stick uncomfortably to every part of your body. You spread your limbs out like a starfish in some futile attempt to cool them down, hoping that you'll catch a draft, but the action only reminds you of how largely cavernous your bed feels right now.
The space beside you is missing a particular doe-eyed boy and, as your hand brushes over the empty spot, you realize that it's not so much the seasonal heat that's making you feel weirdly restless, but rather Jeongguk's absence. In an inconveniently clingy way, you need his body settled next to you at night, your legs and arms a tangled mess beneath the blankets.
You don't know why that is. Why sleep eludes you like a compass without direction, unable to find its way to you when Jeongguk isn't near. But you don't mull over it or give the thought a foothold to stand amongst the endless anxieties already in your head.
All you know is that cuddling up with him in the evening is perhaps one of your favourite pastimes. Akin to a baby with it's bottle, falling asleep in his embrace is something you've grown incredibly used to, maybe even a little dependent on—like a security blanket or night-light—and there's nothing you can do about it.
Sneaking a glance towards the dim light spilling in from beneath the bedroom door, you picture Jeongguk on the other side. Chances are, he’s still where you last left him. Sitting cross-legged on the couch with a laptop balancing carefully on his lap, eyebrows scrunched together in concentration, as he catches up on coursework.
You worry your lip, the thought of your boyfriend causing your mind to wander...
He looked so good tonight; adorned in a pair of grey sweats and a baggy t-shirt with his tattoos fully exposed. His dark hair was strewn across his forehead, falling into his eyes in a way that made your fingers itch.
You, on the other hand, are sporting an old, oversized shirt you opted to steal from Jeongguk's wardrobe to combat the high temperatures, but it hasn't helped much. The heat still loiters, creeping up the back of your neck and imbuing your cheeks with warmth.
It makes you long for winter, for the bitter nip of frosty ice and pelting rain, and the desire for that inadvertently reminds you of that fucking silver lip ring Jeongguk had gotten recently.
The memory of its cold, metal sting against your lips as he kissed you goodnight sends a distant, carnal hum coursing throughout your veins. It's probably tugged anxiously between his teeth right now whilst he types away, eyes deadset on the screen before him, and the image of that sends you reeling. Makes your skin flush further, yearning to feel its steel bite again.
For some reason, it propels you into motion, skin prickling as you throw your legs over the edge of the mattress without a second thought.
The last thing you want to do is bother his progress or interrupt his work, but selfishly, you persist. That gnawing feeling deep within your chest is too hard to ignore, heart beating voraciously with each step you take because it longs to be satiated by Jeongguk's presence. Your boyfriend is only one room over, just four thin walls separating the two of you, yet still—you miss him, want him.
Treading lightly, you hear the persistent click-clack of his keyboard and the muffled sound of typing only grows louder as you step out into the hallway. The wooden flooring is frigid beneath your feet, a sensation you immediately relish in as soon as the fiery crawl of discomfort across your skin begins to lessen. Your shirt—or more precisely, Jeongguk’s shirt—falls flat from your waist, landing a few inches above your knees, as you wander further into the apartment.
Just as you’d predicted, Jeongguk is all pretzelled up on the sofa, too focused on his work to hear you enter. A few empty bottles of soju and convenience store snacks litter the coffee table, serving as silent witnesses to the length of time he's been out here. He must have dimmed the lights as well because a faint, warm glow shrouds every facet of the room, making him look particularly soft at this hour.
You walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around the length of his shoulders as you bend over the couch's headrest to envelop him in a hug. ”Hey,” You hum softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
Jeongguk startles slightly at the contact, shaken from his deep concentration as he angles his head to look up at you. “Shit, baby. You scared me.” He breathes, voice rough from disuse. It rumbles through you like a distant thunderstorm, body vibrating with electricity.
“Sorry,” You murmur, glancing at the assignment he's been working on and tiny pangs of guilt gradually trickle into your stomach. “I didn't mean to disturb you, but-”
“You're not disturbing me.” Jeongguk instantly reassures, scanning your face with a knowing look. “Can’t sleep?” He asks and you nod, burying your face into the crook of his neck. The scent of his body wash immediately encompasses you like a warm embrace, wild pinewood and bergamot invading your senses.
“I thought you’d be in bed by now.” You mumble against his skin, unable to hide the pout in your voice.
Jeongguk frowns, eyes flickering to the time at the bottom of his laptop screen.
Shit, he hadn’t even noticed how late it’s gotten, the hours skulking along the cusp of a new day. He should probably be turning in for the night, head to bed and worry about this project tomorrow, but he’d rather not postpone his responsibilities. Not when you’re staying over the weekend and he could be spending that time with you instead.
“I know.” Jeongguk responds, hand coming up to intertwine with yours. “I’ll be there soon, okay?” He promises, bringing your knuckles to his lips. The featherlight kiss he presses there soothes you like a curative balm.
“Okay,” You relent, untangling yourself from his body. “But, can I stay here for a bit? It’s too hot in there.” You half lie, gesturing towards the bedroom while simultaneously walking over to the kitchen only a few feet away.
“Yeah, of course.” He murmurs, eyes following your movements.
“Thanks, Kook.” You smile, sparing him a glance over your shoulder as your eyes sparkle with mirth. “By the way, your fan broke down again.”
“Again?” He laments, eyebrows furrowed together whilst he runs a disgruntled hand through his hair. “I seriously need to get that old thing repaired or maybe even replaced.” He grumbles to himself, before a guilty afterthought occurs at the sight of you. “Fuck, I'm so sorry, baby. No wonder you couldn't sleep.”
You don't tell him that it's not so much the heat keeping you awake but, more so, him.
“No, don't worry about it.” You settle on instead, trying to dispel his concerns. “It's not your fault.”
This isn't the first time that Jeongguk’s fan has given him problems. He's had the thing since high school; so it’s no surprise that the motor tends to give in every now and then, running a little too hot. He’s been meaning to get the issue sorted, but hasn’t really found the time to do that these days.
“Plus, I'd much rather be out here with you.” You add.
Jeongguk smiles at you so sweetly then, dimples making an appearance, and your body flushes all over, burning once again.
God, what is wrong with you tonight?
You need to calm down, cool down. At this rate, you feel like an overheating engine, bound to crash in on yourself and combust.
Grabbing a glass of ice water from the fridge dispenser, you rein yourself in, distracting your mind with conversation. “I promise not to be a bother though, like you won't even notice I'm here.” You say, before chugging the cold liquid down on the spot, completely ignorant to the way that Jeongguk drinks you in.
A welcome sight is what you are, so cute tonight with your hair all mussed, practically drowning in his shirt. “You’re never a bother.” He responds, mouth going dry when you lean back to empty the glass. The action causes your shirt to hike up, the creamy expanse of your thighs further exposed to his hungry eyes.
He feels his dick stir at the sight.
“How much longer do you think you’ll be?” You ask, wiping your lips with the back of your palm, as you place your cup in the sink and shuffle over towards your boyfriend.
“Uhh…” Jeongguk clears his throat, broken out of his stupor. He turns back to face his laptop, skimming the Word document that's open before him when he feels you nestle into his side a second later. Automatically, he brings a hand down to rest against your leg.
“I’m not sure,” He grumbles, thumb rubbing soothing circles against your bare thigh. The absent-minded touch ignites something in you, skin blazing at the contact, and you try your best to suppress the goosebumps that rise in Jeongguk’s wake. “Maybe another hour or so?” He guesses.
“Oh.” You mumble and, although you fight the disappointed curl of your lips, Jeongguk doesn’t miss the deflated look on your face.
“I’m sorry,” He squeezes your thigh apologetically, frown overtaking his pretty features. “I know it’s been a while since we spent time together.”
A week exactly, you note, but ultimately keep that detail to yourself. After all, neither one of you is to blame for being so busy, constantly caught between work and university.
You think that's maybe the reason you're feeling so needy tonight, body set ablaze by every minor look and touch from your boyfriend. In a way, you're feeling a little neglected since your relationship’s taken the backseat, not by choice but by consequence, and you don’t know how to deal with it.
“It's fine.” You shrug. "It's not like we can help it.”
You try to be nonchalant about the matter, injecting the slightest hint of indifference into your tone, but Jeongguk sees right through you.
He always does.
“Come here.” He says suddenly, voice soft as he shifts his laptop onto the coffee table.
You look up at him, confusion clear on your face.
“What?” You blink, but your question falls on deaf ears because Jeongguk merely uncrosses his legs and pats his lap.
“Come here,” He then repeats and reaches for your waist.
You're uncertain for the briefest of moments, eyeing Jeongguk suspiciously, before you ultimately give in like malleable clay in his soft hands, allowing him to pull you onto his lap with ease. “I've been working for hours.” He grumps once you're comfortably straddling his waist, hands resting on either side of your hips. “Hardly seen you since you got here.”
You hum, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth in thought. It's no secret that you've been spending a lot more time at Jeongguk's place in lieu of your ratty little dorm room. You felt bad about it at first, feeling as though you were invading his space and overstaying your welcome. But your boyfriend couldn't be happier about it. He rather likes the idea of your lives interlocking, melding together as if they were puzzle pieces falling into place. He likes that when he's working, like on nights like this, that you're just on the opposite side of the door, not one phone call or car ride away.
He likes that you're his and he is, equally as much, yours.
“I wanted to leave you to your work.” You explain, curling your arms around his neck. Your fingers absentmindedly play with the ends of his hair that have grown out and the light touch only brings about the memory of how much he has missed you these past few days.
“Well, it's about time I take a break, don't you think?” Jeongguk muses and you become hyper-aware of the way his fingers brush up your spine. “Give my girl some attention…” He trails on, eyes flickering to your lips.
You practically preen at the idea, smiling shyly as you lean into his touch. “I wouldn't object to that.” Your heart patters in your chest, beating wildly at the mere sight of Jeongguk. At the thought of him finally touching you, kissing you, quenching your thirst after this week-long drought. “I've missed you.”
Jeongguk chuckles faintly. “Me too, baby.” He murmurs, perching his head upwards to press his lips against yours.
The kiss is gentle, chaste, his plush lips feeling so featherlight against yours. You almost imagine they were never there to begin with because Jeongguk pulls away before you can truly savour the taste of them.
“You know, you look so pretty in my clothes.” He begins, large hand spreading lazily around your left hip and up your back. “Kinda makes me want to wreck you.”
“You already wreck me.” You breathe without missing a beat.
“Yeah?” Jeongguk rasps, his voice low and a little dark. It sends a thrill straight up your spine.
You nod in response, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. “No one makes me feel the way you do.” You admit, eyes flitting across his face. It's an unwavering truth—one that simultaneously scares and excites you in this quiet dead of night.
“Can I kiss you again?” The words come out as a breathy whisper; as if you've been holding on to them for too long, as if they're the oxygen you so desperately need to breathe, and Jeongguk tilts his head, bewildered frown on his face.
“How is that even a question.” He gripes, slanting his head in a means to meet your mouth halfway, but you have another idea.
You press into him instead, leaning forward, and set out to peck lovingly along the curvature of Jeongguk’s jawline. He huffs in amusement, endeared by the way you take control. Because, although he’s usually the dominant one in the bedroom, he doesn't mind when you take charge like this. In fact, he's grown to love it. Loves the way you come into your own, toying and teasing with him, until your own actions cause you to grow desperate.
It's one of his greater weaknesses, his Achilles heel, and right now, you want nothing more than to expose it. Unveil a certain side of him. The one that'll see how far you can push before he starts to push back. The one that'll give in and take you right here on this couch after he's entertained your antics for long enough and you finally beg him to fuck you.
Your body practically hums at the thought.
You map out his skin, lips brushing against the surface like you're exploring a new land. Every movement careful, every touch claiming what's yours. And it almost goes to your head—how quickly Jeongguk submits to your mouth’s assault, his body relaxing into the couch like he's letting you have your way with him.
Jeongguk doesn't tell you that he is. That your lips are a holy grail he'd happily yield to.
When your teeth graze lightly at a particular soft spot below his ear, he lets out a small groan, eyes falling closed at the sensation. You feel the sound roll through you, the ache between your legs becoming hard to ignore when you think about the fact that you've roused that melody from his mouth.
It spurs you on, makes you want to hear it again and again. You want to paint the entire column of his neck red and then watch your confession of love fade to a bruised purple in the weeks to come. You want to rediscover all the ways that you can make Jeongguk sing, and the way your body dances to his tune in turn. Your lips lap him up, kisses becoming indelicate with desperation, teeth nipping with intent along his upper jaw, tongue tracing over the skin before you repeat all these gestures twicefold.
You can feel yourself growing wet, relish in the way that Jeongguk's hands tighten around your form. “Shit,” He mumbles and your body crows. Without pause, you shift against his lap and move to the neglected side of his neck, targeting the skin there. You can feel him getting hard beneath you, your core situated right above his growing erection, and it causes a shiver to run down your spine.
You plant a few messy kisses against his throat, nibbling vehemently, but then Jeongguk tuts and pries his eyes open before you have the opportunity to really sink your teeth into him.
“Baby,” He warns, curling a hand into your hair to form a makeshift ponytail. “No marks. I've got a presentation on Monday.” He says and pulls you back by an inch. His movements are somewhat hesitant, voice rough, like he's not entirely sure he truly wants you to stop.
But he has to. He can't afford to show up to class on Monday and present the most important project of his life with hickeys all over his neck.
“Next time.” He promises, but you consider outright ignoring him for a second, even though it's nonsensical, like some twisted form of punishment for a week of neglect.
But it’s Jeongguk—Jeongguk who’s been extra stressed lately about completing his degree. Jeongguk who’s carving time out of working on his big assignment right now—one which, not only counts forty percent of his grade, but could also earn him an internship at one of the top law firms in Seoul if he's lucky enough—all to pay special attention to you.
So, “Fine.” You give in, albeit a little petulantly, and brace your hands against his chest, face feeling flushed. “I’m sorry. I just wanna be close to you is all.”
“I know. Me too.” He rasps, grip on your hair loosening a touch, but not completely. “We don't have to stop though, just don't mark me up.” He explains, free hand rubbing up and down your thigh.
“Okay,” You slide your palms up his chest, feeling the toned muscles tense beneath your touch. “I really love you, you know?”
Jeongguk's eyes soften, a hint of a smile creeping up on his face. “I know,” He hums, tugging at your hair in a way that makes your scalp tingle. “But I don't think it comes close to how much I love you.” He rasps, using his grip as leverage to pull your head backwards until the delicate skin of your throat is exposed. “It's incomparable.” He murmurs, placing a single kiss on the side of your mouth before he travels south, lips peppering across your jawline.
You shiver, hands twisting into the thick material of Jeongguk's t-shirt. You want to tell him that it's not a competition, that you'd love him until the sun stops rising and, even if this one week of distance had been more, you know that he feels the same.
But the heavy palpitations in your chest causes the words to dissolve on your tongue because Jeongguk pulls the collar of your shirt to the side a second later, exposing more of your skin, before he traces a path along your décolletage. He's touching you like a starved man, mouth just as desperate and feverish as you’re starting to feel.
A stuttered gasp escapes your lips, your hands moving upwards, unsure of where to be, when he nips at a particularly sensitive spot. You settle them on his shoulders.
“Jeongguk,” You moan, the tingling between your legs maturing into an unbearable ache.
“I know, baby.” He abruptly pulls away from your clavicle—lips red, eyes blown. “Tell me what you want.”
His demand goes over your head because you don't know what you want; can barely think straight with the lingering feeling of Jeongguk's lips on your neck. With the growing wetness sticking uncomfortably to your panties. With the burning, hot embers laying at the base of your stomach, begging to be set ablaze. And Jeongguk knows that. Knows that you're neither here nor there, only somewhere in the middle, teetering on the line of endless choices. So he lets go of your hair then, manoeuvres your body until you're straddling only his left thigh.
“Don't think about it, baby.” He murmurs, both hands moving to your hips. He guides them back and forth, slow and gentle, with just enough pressure to relieve that desperate throbbing in your pussy. “Just feel.”
And you do, sinking into your own little bubble, a paradise as impenetrable as the gates of heaven. You take your time to grind up against him, moving in tandem with the flow of his hands and a soft whimper climbs up your throat at the sensation of your clit brushing against the firm muscles of Jeongguk’s thigh. You're already so soaked, underwear absolutely sodden from the relentless pendular motions of your pelvis, and when you look down to find a dark, damp spot beginning to stain Jeongguk's sweatpants, you can't help but intensify your movements.
It should be embarrassing, how quickly you've become turned on, how much you're dripping, when Jeongguk's barely touched you, but instead you just feel liberated. Pure power coursing through your veins because your boyfriend has given you the reins, is letting you use his body like a bitch in heat, and it's exhilarating; intoxicating every facet of your mind.
“That's it,” Jeongguk purrs, deserting your hips once you gain momentum to instead sneak both hands up the hem of your shirt.
Your breath escapes its chambers when he trails past the soft curve of your waist and straight to your breasts. “Fuck, you're so beautiful.” He grunts, gaze intent on your every reaction, like he's watching artwork unfold. His nimble fingers circle your nipples, tracing them with the most tantalizing pattern, until they begin to harden.
“Please,” You choke, clasping his shirt in between your fists like it's some sort of lifeline. You're not even sure what you're begging for, pace quickening as you ride Jeongguk’s thigh more aggressively. Every rut forward sends sparks shooting throughout your body, nerve endings alight, and when Jeongguk pinches your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, your back arches in pleasure. A throaty moan penetrates the room otherwise filled with nothing but your uneven pants and the sound of Jeongguk's voice.
“Gonna make you feel so good,” He groans, hands inching towards your shirt’s lower seam. He drags it over your torso, itching for better access to your breasts. Even in your muddled state, you meet him halfway, raising your arms above your head until the damned thing is off and you're left in nothing but your lacy underwear.
You hardly have time to adjust to the humid air hitting your torso, when Jeongguk tips his head forward, enveloping your right nipple into his mouth with reckless abandon. The response is instantaneous, a strangled sob slipping past your lips at the feeling of his warm mouth encased around your stiffened peak. His tongue swipes across your nipple, shockwaves manifesting at the blissful contact, and you don't know how much longer you're going to last—an embarrassing feat you don’t ponder on too much.
Instead, you squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the attention Jeongguk pays you. Whimpering when the pads of his fingers move to fondle the nipple of your forsaken breast while the other submits to his mouth’s pleasurable torment, each purposeful pinch causing them to tighten all the more. Your skin feels like it's on fire, the warmth of Jeongguk's touch igniting the cinders glowing from deep within your belly. “I-I think,” You swallow, your pussy rubbing deliciously into Jeongguk's leg. “I think I'm going to come soon,” You manage to admit through a repressed whine, voice so strained it sounds foreign even to your own ears.
You don't think you've ever hit an orgasm this quickly. You've never had to. Because you and Jeongguk are like inseparable magnets; every atom in your bodies drawn to each other, always connecting like two poles seeking the other out—never going more than a few days without some form of intimacy. Never mind a week.
At least, not until now.
So when Jeongguk bounces his leg upwards to meet the force of your pussy coming down on his quadricep, adding to the way you slam into him, your clit positively throbbing at the impact, you feel the onset of that familiar coil in your stomach tightening.
“Just let go, baby.” Jeongguk rasps, granting you permission with one final flick of your nipples and then you're coming undone, white fiery heat flooding every fiber of your body, as you cry out his name. Only his name, forever on your lips. You feel the way your entire form convulses, the way Jeongguk helps you through it, flexing his thigh so that you can get the most out of your orgasm, and your hips buck forward—unrelenting and greedy—before they finally ease into a slow rut. Grinding into him until the receding, minuscule waves of pleasure begin to fade.
With the last few clenches of your pulsating core, you slowly catch your breath, muscles slackening as you become pliant in Jeongguk's arms, the weight of your body suddenly too much for you to bear. Your boyfriend holds you tight though, both hands moving to your waist to keep you secure.
Behind the darkness of your closed eyelids; you hear Jeongguk softly murmur your name and feel the way his hand comes up to your face, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind your ear before he cups your cheeks. “You okay, angel?” He asks, voice emerging as a hushed tone.
When you manage to tear your eyes open and give him a soft, affirmative nod, Jeongguk seems satisfied, pressing a delicate kiss to your sternum before he shifts you from his lap and onto your back in one fell, but gentle swoop.
Your head hits the soft leather of the sofa with the aftermath of your climax still lingering against your skin like crackling electricity, fuzzing up your mind. “You think you can take more?” He asks, eyes flitting across your face to get a read on your current state of mind.
You nod your head assuredly, reaching out to make a grab for his body, to bring him closer. “Yeah I can,” You say confidently, arm's snaking up his back to explore the taut muscles that reside there.
Jeongguk is hovering over your body, thigh pressed hotly between your legs, and even though you can feel the rush of arousal, brought on only a second ago, pooling uncomfortably in your underwear—you want more. You want him. “I want to carry on.”
Jeongguk studies your demeanour, casting your body and expression a careful once-over, because he wants to feel you, be in you, wants to make you see stars. But it's only a matter of whether you're able to handle that right now. He has barely had his way with you, but you already look so fucked out, so perfect for him. It makes the blood rush straight to his dick. “You make me crazy.” He rasps, eyes locking with yours as he brings a hand up, tracing his thumb along your bottom lip.
You almost cower beneath his touch, beneath the sincerity of his gaze; appraising the very depths of your being as if you were a delicate treasure, as if he were staring at a god or something of a divine beauty.
Jeongguk thinks that maybe he is; thinks you’re the light, the one thing he’d worship morning, noon and night through blind faith. And there are barely enough words in the dictionary for him to express this notion to you, so instead he settles for “I love you.” Voice as rough as the high tides, but softer than moonlight.
He feels compelled to tell you this every chance he gets, a hopeless slave to his feelings for you. “Like I've never loved anything else in my life.” He continues. It's a quiet confession in the night, not a new one, but the words mean just as much as the first time he admitted them to you.
You feel yourself melt, can't remember ever feeling this cherished. Not since before Jeongguk and hopefully, never after. “I love you too.” You murmur, taking a moment to drink in every detail of the man who has left you restless all night.
Your eyes flicker over the defined cut of his jaw. The delicate curve of his lips and the pretty mole resting just beneath it. The small kissable scar on his cheek. The feathery flutter of his eyelashes. The strands of hair that have fallen over his face, and you retract your hand from his back to push them away.
How did you ever get this lucky?
“So much.” You emphasize and your voice thickens with the weight of your words, spoken from the very depths of your soul. “More than you could ever know.” Because there aren't enough words in the dictionary to get this notion across, so instead you lift your head, planting a firm kiss to Jeongguk’s lips as if sealing a vow, a promise of forever.
Jeongguk receives your kiss like he does with everything else related to you; openly, hungrily. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip—once—twice—and you instantly become pliant under his weight. Your fingers find his hair, tangling into the dark tresses as you deepen the kiss. It’s hot and it’s heavy, and in the distant part of your mind, you register that Jeongguk tastes like peaches, most likely from the alcohol he’s been drinking.
The sweetness of his lips immediately goes to your head; drunk and euphoric, and all grace flies out the window the next second. “Touch me,” You murmur breathlessly against his mouth, fingertips skimming over the nape of his neck. “Please, I need you.”
Jeongguk groans, a husky sound resonating from deep within his throat. “Fuck,” You can feel how rock hard he’s gotten, his erection pressing into your inner thigh and it's making you delirious with need. “I’ll give you anything you want.” Jeongguk rumbles, his mouth forming a wet, messy trek away from yours to embrace the flesh of your breasts.
You want to tell him that it's him, only him you want. Puppeteering your every move, body relinquishing itself to his touch. But you don't. You can't, not when Jeongguk's teeth leave scarlet marks across your chest that render you mute, words evaporating on your tongue like sacramental bread.
“My pretty baby,” He coos tenderly and you fight the urge to rut up against him. “Always so fucking ready for me.“ He praises, kisses traveling southward and it burns, searing, everywhere that Jeongguk touches you. You think you might erupt or shatter, and nothing less, if he doesn't meet you where you really need him to, your cunt begging to be satiated with his fingers, or his tongue, or his dick—anything.
A whimper escapes your lips, an embarrassing, desperate sound hanging in the thick air, as you glance down past your heaving breasts. You watch as Jeongguk abandons your boobs, planting a trail of kisses across the expanse of your stomach, your hip bones—takes the tiny little ribbon on your underwear between his teeth and tugs. The deliberate gesture causes your panty to rise up a bit, ever so slightly brushing against your clit in the process, and you bite down on your bottom lip, holding back an ungodly moan.
You can't take it anymore, all this teasing.
Jeongguk can read it on your face; sees it in the way you swiftly tilt your head back, eyes closed, brows scrunched together. He knows you like the back of his hand, which is how he gauges that you've fallen back into a place of submission—done with the tortuous foreplay, done with calling the shots, done with delaying the inevitable. You want him to fuck you, to use your body the same way you had used his mere minutes ago. And if his dick could get any harder at the thought, it would.
Jeongguk licks his lips, slips a finger into the curve of your waistband as he murmurs, “I’m gonna take this off now, okay?”
You nod your head, not daring to open your eyes to confront the image of Jeongguk's face a mere hair's breadth away from your cunt. It's too erotic. Too much. You feel him drag the thin garment down your legs, a string of arousal following suit, and suddenly feel self-conscious, attempting to close your legs to hide how shamefully wet you are.
But Jeongguk's not having any of that.
He carelessly chucks the lacy material to the side like it’s nothing but a rag, a nuisance, and then grips your inner thigh. “Don't you dare,” He grunts, using his grasp to keep your legs apart, lifting them upwards until your knees are bent to your chest and your ankles are resting over his shoulders, giving him the perfect view of your dripping cunt.
You barely have time to register the ticklish feeling of Jeongguk's breath fanning against your core before he dives straight in, licking a long stripe across your pussy, and your hips instinctively buck up. “Shit,” You mewl, rejoicing in the way his tongue traverses from your slit to your clit, lapping up every drop of arousal.
Jeongguk groans, a sound so low, stemming from the heart of his diaphragm, when he samples that first morsel of your leaking nectar. You taste like heaven, so sweet and unbearably wet, and all just for him.
“So fucking good,” He grumbles, mouth drinking you in. His tongue is unrelenting in its efforts to devour your pussy, and the overwhelming sensation of him slurping and sucking—of him eating you out like a connoisseur tasting the rarest of delicacies—causes frenzied pools of pleasure to ripple within the base of your belly.
He keeps at it, nose brushing against your clit as a byproduct, and after a few minutes the pure, unwavering rapture of Jeongguk's tongue becomes excruciating. A feeling so good, it’s almost too much. “Jeongguk,” You wail, heels digging into the couch as you try to back away from his mouth, but your boyfriend merely hooks his arms around your legs and pulls you closer. Holding you in place; unable to run or escape from the ruthless onslaught of his tongue, from the metal bite of his piercing brushing against your lower lips. “I can't,” You cry, writhing beneath his touch.
With his grip keeping you firmly anchored, Jeongguk brings one hand down to toy with your swollen clit, fingers moving in languid, clockwise motions. “You can,” He grunts thickly, tongue slipping between your folds and prodding deliciously at your hole. “I know you can, baby.” He mumbles in between fucking your drenched pussy with his fleshy muscle.
You shake your head frantically, eyes screwed shut, as you feel the waves of your second orgasm surfacing. “Not like this,” You beg, using your hands to reach down, fingers twisting into his fluffy hair as you desperately try to push him away. “Please, I want you in me.” A sob runs free, your walls pulsating around nothing because Jeongguk is taking his time with you, teasing your opening like he's got all night. But you don't. You're close, so fucking close, you can feel it in the tightening muscles of your pelvis, in the quivering of your legs.
But Jeongguk isn't giving you enough. He isn't giving you what you need. Your boyfriend, in all his hot glory, is taking you there with his tongue, swirling insufferably along your orifice—bringing you right up to the edge of the plank with an ocean of pleasure waiting just below your feet, but then he pulls you back. Drags you from the precipice before you can allow yourself to fall in, and it causes a frustrated whine to escape your lips. You need his cock deep inside, filling you up, pushing you off the ledge and into troubled waters. Your pussy throbs at the very thought. “Please Kook,” You find yourself beseeching for the second time. “I wanna cum with you in me.”
And any thread of composure Jeongguk has been holding on to up until that point, snaps at the pure neediness burrowed within your tone.
He looks up at you; lips glistening, eyes dilated—a mess of a man. But you don't look any better—or, if you were getting a glimpse of yourself through Jeongguk's point of view, never better—skin flushed, gleaming with a fine film of sweat, lips swollen from the way you've been biting them, and all at once, Jeongguk is overcome with the desire to give you everything you've ever wanted.
“Fuck, okay,” He curses, rising to his knees and you force your eyes open at the rough edge tainting his voice, at the overwhelming relief of getting what you wished for. “But it’s going to be a bit of a stretch, baby.” He says, not having prepped you fully. It's been a while since the two of you have had sex and, if he had it his way, he would have given you his fingers first, would have warmed and widened your lubricated walls, to ease the initial discomfort of him entering you.
But you look so pretty beneath him, so impatient, and—“I can handle it,” You mollify, voice a sweet concoction of sultry persuasion.
He nods in response, a curt motion, because if he thinks about how eager you're being, about how you're willing to take a little bit of the pain for the insurmountable pleasure, he might just come right there. Might just think of all the other ways you like to hurt; of the way you'd react if his palm made rough contact with your ass cheeks, or what would happen if he handcuffed you to his bedpost and stuffed you full with a vibrator and butt plug—if he fucked you tonight with no end in sight. He wonders if you'd cry, if you'd beg him for more or want him to stop, sopping and spent. More than that, he wants so badly to find out.
Jeongguk’s dark eyes find yours, their typical doe-eyed demeanour having turned hooded a long time ago. Yours are twinkling with anticipation, watching intently as he pulls his sweatpants down, letting them hang low beneath his buttocks. His cock immediately springs free, slapping against his stomach, and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip at the sight.
“Come here,” Jeongguk's voice carries a jagged intonation, raw and untamed, and breaks through you like crashing waves. But when he makes a grab for your body, his hands are nothing but gentle, hoisting you up onto your knees and positioning you on all fours.
With your ass bared before him, face pressed into the cold faux leather of the couch, Jeongguk smooths a hand down your back, watches with satisfaction as your spine yields before his touch, and then he takes a hold of his dick. Doesn't even bother giving it a few preliminary pumps because he's already painfully hard, precum leaking from the tip as he lines himself with your hole.
He doesn't put it in though.
First, he teases your little cunt with only the head of his length, not fully embedding himself within your warmth just yet. You whimper pathetically at the testing prod, fingers balling into frustrated fists, while Jeongguk watches in awe as your entrance narrows, pleading to be stuffed.
“God, look at you.” Jeongguk groans, eyes traveling from your glistening pussy to the state of your overall servile form.
He places one hand on your hip, fingers digging into the skin there, as he inches just the slightest bit forward, his dick slowly pushing into you. Your mouth parts at the sensation and you shakily prop yourself up onto your elbows, head falling forward with a moan. “So fucking needy, huh.” He goads when you attempt to meet him in the middle, subtly backing up against his pelvis.
“No,” You shake your head as if it's some sort of lie, as if you haven't been thinking about this moment since you stepped over the doorsill of Jeongguk’s apartment earlier. And your boyfriend laughs—he actually laughs—a maniacal, derisive sound that rings in your ears.
“There's no need to deny it, baby.” He drawls like smooth liquor hitting the back of your throat, a silky succour that, for some reason, has you dumbly nodding along. Because Jeongguk’s entering you more now, his dick fighting against the tight restraint of your heat, and you're too distracted by the feeling of it to fully comprehend what he's saying.
“I mean,” He continues, reaching down between your legs to gather the wetness clinging to your folds before he bends over your back, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “You’d think you've never been fucked a day in your life.” He murmurs, bringing his slick fingers to your level of sight.
You flush instantly, burning at the way your arousal dwells on Jeongguk's digits and forms a translucent web when he parts them into a V shape. “I can't help it,” You breathe shamefully, about to protest that it's his fault for letting you go so long without attention, for not taking care of your sexual needs and making you this susceptible to moments of depravity, when Jeongguk fully entrenches himself into your heat without so much as a warning.
“Aah,” Your jaw slackens at the sudden stretch of his length against your walls, the sensation so unfairly delicious you find yourself clenching around the intrusion with gasp, and your boyfriend uses the opportunity to stuff his letch-laiden fingers into your mouth.
“Clean them.” He grunts, lazily rocking forward and you choke back a moan, mouth instantly closing around his fingers. Head full of clouds, pussy filled to the brim, you obey. Your tongue licks up the juices stuck to his slim digits, gliding sensually across each one with care, and you vaguely hear Jeongguk curse below his breath, hips grinding into your core. “Fuck, just like that, angel.” He praises, allowing you to suck them clean for a few more seconds before he pulls them from your lips altogether with a lewd pop.
“Such a good girl,” He murmurs lovingly, pressing a singular kiss to your shoulder blade before he straightens to his full height behind you. “Always so perfect for me.”
Jeongguk's hands find your ass again and he gives the supple flesh a few gentle squeezes, savouring the way you whine in response.
“Please,” Your words come out embarrassingly broken and wretched, heart hammering in your chest with want, as you peek at Jeongguk over your shoulder. “Please, no more teasing. Just fuck me.”
“What do you think I'm doing?” Jeongguk asks, eyebrow raised, voice harbouring a hue of cockiness. He withdraws his thick length from your warm embrace at an agonizingly slow rate before thrusting right back in, repeating the motion steadily. “I'm fucking you right now, aren't I?”
You want to cry, your need to come so severe, it's starting to physically hurt.
Your fingers leave deep indents in the couch as you tackle the burning coals of frustration setting every inch of your body on fire. “M-More,” You stammer, feeling a pearl of arousal trickle down your thigh. You're so turned on right now, your mind an empty haze as Jeongguk edges you into oblivion, cunt so wet, you can barely feel the brush of his shaft against your walls anymore. “I need more.”
Jeongguk grins, feels the crown of his cock brush against a particular soft spot, and then decides to give you what you want. Because he loves it when you beg, when you become a blubbering mess beneath him, so cock-hungry, you forget yourself.
Without a moment's pause, Jeongguk pounds into you with unbridled vigour. His hips slap against your ass, the sound echoing throughout the room, and your body jerks forward at the impact. Your core is so drenched he's able to enter you with little resistance now. Emitting a rough, throaty groan, he fixates on how your creamy arousal coats his cock, disappearing in and out of your cunt.
“F-Fuck,” You hiss, your hand reaching back to firmly grip Jeongguk’s wrist for support, but he takes advantage of your extended arm and yanks you up until your back is pressed to his chest.
The new position gives him better access to your front and Jeongguk ghosts a hand around your waist without a second thought, smooths it down your stomach until he reaches your clit. Your body jolts the instant his fingers make contact with the swollen bud, legs quivering with the strength it's taking you to stay upright.
Your boyfriend notices your struggle and hooks his other arm around your waist, his fingertips holding you so tightly you won't be surprised if some bruises appear there tomorrow.
“Fuck, I've missed this.” He rasps, more to himself than you, whilst drilling against your g-spot. But the words affect you just the same as your pussy tightens in response, squeezing him into a death grip, and Jeongguk's hips stutter. “Jesus,” He groans, making a mental effort to stave off his own orgasm, trying to focus solely on you.
You really are going to be the death of him.
He breathes heavily through his nostrils before starting up again, slowly driving into you and his cock burrows so deep, you swear you can feel it in your uterus.
His fingers skim over your clit, tracing the nub ever so slightly because you're starting to flinch from his touch, starting to grow sensitive. And when your head falls back against his shoulder, a choked whine forcing its way out your throat, Jeongguk knows that you're close.
“You gonna come for me?” Jeongguk's lips brush against your temple, his hand deserting your pussy in sympathy to knead your breasts instead. You feel his thumb run over your nipple, static lightning steamrolling across your skin with each sweep.
“I-ah!” You can barely form a coherent sentence, the inklings of even one lucid thought slipping from your empty, fucked out mind as Jeongguk slams into you. He's setting a brutal pace, the noise of skin-against-skin undeniably obscene, but you can hardly find the will to care when the muscles in your abdomen begin to tense. They twist up like a clockwork toy, winding and winding, until Jeongguk hits a particular spot that makes your toes curl, and then you're coming undone for the second time tonight, knees buckling with the sheer force of your orgasm.
It hits you like a freight train, your body spasming. White dots of euphoria blur your vision, the pleasure so blinding, and Jeongguk's hold around your midsection is the only reason you don't collapse right there onto the couch.
“That's it, baby.” He reveres, hips never ceasing their movements even as your walls contract sporadically, determined to fuck you through it. An uncannily pornstar moan spills from your lips, mind and body having finally plunged into the silvery, stormy torrents of your climax, and the strangled sound causes something impossibly primal to rupture within Jeongguk. It thrashes at his chest like a wild caged animal, demanding release, and he recognizes the feeling all too well.
“You're mine, right? ” He finds himself grunting, voice husky with strain. The hand that was attending to your boobs instinctively ascends to your throat, squeezing slightly as he chases his own high, gives in to that grueling streak of possessiveness that only every rears its head when he has you like this—naked and vulnerable—and you groan at the familiar pressure.
You hum, walls clenching around him. “Only yours.” Your own hand reaches up, cuffing around his wrist for support as a tremor runs down your spine.
Jeongguk feels his balls tighten, the knowledge that he’s the sole witness to this side of you, so subservient and docile, sets him off the deep end.
Then you angle your head to the side, joining your lips with his. It's a messy, sloppy kiss, but the intimacy of it all causes Jeongguk's last bit of composure to crack.
He spills into you with a groan, the sound muffled by your mouth, as he rocks forward until every last drop of his seed is snug within your warmth.
The feeling of his cum bursting inside of you, length twitching, causes your pussy to flutter by reflex, milking Jeongguk of every ounce of cum, only suspending their contractions once he's thoroughly depleted.
By the end, you're both a heaving mess; chests rising and falling in unison as you come down, the electric current pulsing through your bodies fading into a comfortable hum.
Your skin is still buzzing, head befuddled, when Jeongguk presses a few lazy kisses across your shoulder—as if to ground you, to bring you back from the constellations he's painted behind your eyes.
“You were so good, baby.” He commends, smoothing the hair at the side of your profile and you can't help the soft, but dopey smile that breaks out onto your face then.
“I've been dreaming about that for forever.” You murmur, submitting to the assault of his lips. Your boyfriend chuckles in return, nuzzling your neck as he commits the smell of your skin, an alluring scent of sex and lavender, to his memory.
“Me too,” He hums, thumb gliding gently across the contour of your waist. Your sensitive pussy throbs at the light touch, rousing from the stimulation; which only reminds you of the unpleasant remnants of arousal coating your inner thighs.
As if reading your mind, Jeongguk whispers against your skin. “Let's get you cleaned up, okay?”
He eyes your figure carefully, waiting for any hint of consent before he leaves you here alone.
You manage to muster a nod and then feel his dick slip from your entrance a second later, withdrawing in a way that makes you cringe and leaves you feeling oddly empty.
“I’ll be right back.” He assures, his lips quickly, but comfortingly, brushing against your hairline. Thereafter, from your peripheral, you see Jeongguk detach himself from your side, pulling his pants back up as he disappears into the bathroom to do what he does best—take care of you.
In the meantime, you resist the temptation to slump back onto the sofa, feeling a hefty load of cum leaking down your thighs. Every muscle in your body feels relaxed, those sparks from earlier sizzling down into sleepy, smoky remnants that weigh you down. Mind a dazed mess, not sure of how much time has passed, you almost give in—the slumber you so desperately sought out at the beginning of the night finally settling into your bones—when Jeongguk walks back into the living room. He's changed into a pair of briefs and is carrying a wet cloth, as well as, a small tube of ointment.
Your body instantly perks up, a little rejuvenated by his presence.
“Hey,” Jeongguk murmurs once he's back in your close vicinity, fingers brushing against your cheeks as he peers down at you with a soft smile.
“Hey,” You tiredly grin back, pointing a finger at the items in his hand. “Those for me?”
Jeongguk hums, draping an arm around your waist to steady you. If you had the energy to freshen yourself up, you honestly would but currently, you can barely keep your eyes open. So instead you lean on your boyfriend—figuratively and literally—clutching onto his biceps as he brings the warm cloth to your nether regions. You hiss a little at the contact, still feeling delicate down there, but Jeongguk handles you with a gentle mindfulness that makes your heart swell. Makes you think back to a little over an hour ago, when you were alone in bed unable to fall asleep because he wasn't there.
And sometimes it worries you. How much you need him. How much something as simple and basic as sleep, needs the warmth of his touch to make its mark on you. How much you’ve grown to love him in the span of a few months, your life endlessly orbiting around him like the earth to the sun. How much the deepest crevices of your soul, where the vile fear of abandonment and instinctual desire to run, relinquish themselves to the light of Jeongguk’s unconditional love.
You watch him toss the used washcloth to the side before unscrewing the top of the ointment. Sigh; as his fingers, tender with purpose, apply dabs of vitamin K salve to your hips where the marks from his fingertips are starting to surface. “Shit, I'm so sorry baby.” He apologizes, the raspy, hushed tone of his voice communicating how guilt-ridden he feels. “I didn't mean to be this rough.”
And, you've never known a love like this. One that rustles through your hair like the wind on the drive down to your parents. One that meets you in the dead of winter between classes, wrapped up in coats and scarves, and coffee as the snow falls. One that kisses you goodnight, hands cupping your cheeks while the street lamps flicker outside.
One that dresses all your bruises.
It makes you want to run in the opposite direction every now and then, fleeing until you forget that you ever knew it could be this good, this safe.
But, staring at Jeongguk and the careful, intricate way he's massaging ointment onto all your black-and-blues, you bury these trepidations away, laying them to rest in the one place they belong—the past.
Because yes, you’ve never had this sort of love before—the seriousness, the commitment.
The emptied-out drawers for your clothes.
The spare toothbrush at his place.
The conversations of a future together—the clear line being crossed from fling to forever.
Even though it's a concept so scary and unfamiliar, and foreign to you—you never want to let it go.
You never want to let him go.
1K notes · View notes
tonycries · 22 hours
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Dirty Lil’ Secrets!
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Synopsis. They all have their habits in bed - some so filthy you can’t help but keep them your dirty little secret.
Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, size differences, bréeding, mating press, oral (female receiving), vibrators, manhandling, marking, jealousy (Choso’s side), praise, degradation, exhibitionism, fíngering, semi-public, cúmplay, some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.
Word count. 4.8k
A/N. This came to me while watching Pink Panther, I think I should watch Pink Panther more often.
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♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Take it or he makes you
Now, Toji knows he’s got a big dick - huge, even. And to him it doesn’t make a difference - either you take his fat cock like the good lil’ slut you are, or he shoves it in your snug cunt and watches you gasp so deliciously around him, eyes watering, swollen lips dropping into a pretty little oh! 
“Ah- hngh daddy s’too big. I don’t think-”
“You will, pretty girl.” he chuckles darkly, leaning down till his breath is hot against your ear. “Because I’ll make it fit.”
Okay, maybe he lied - maybe it really does make a difference. Because right now, with you already so cockdrunk as he bullied his furiously leaking tip into your sloppy hole - Toji doesn’t think he’s ever been harder.
“Are- are you at least hngh- halfway in, daddy?” he hears you whimper. Cock twitching so animalistically inside you at the way your voice cracks so adorably at the end, tinged with desperation. 
Toji can’t help but huff out a laugh, brows furrowed, greedy gaze stuck on the obscene way your pretty lips struggle to take him in. Pussy spread open so shamefully for him, quivering and leaking so sinfully onto the sheets below. 
“Nope.” he hums, popping the p, reaching down to lick a long, languid stripe up the delicate tear streaming down your cheek.
God, he has to fight down some feral, animalistic part of him that wants to just plunge his throbbing cock into you till his heavy balls smack your ass. But no - not yet. What’s the fun if he can’t see you struggle a bit more?
Instead pushing in shallow, determined little thrusts to fit inside your tight pussy. Each one has his prominent veins pulsing angrily against your walls, hitting that one spot just right. A maddening bump! bump! bump! you were losing your mind to. 
Stretching you to your limits. You could almost feel his achingly hard tip hitting your cervix already.
Full. So full - and he wasn’t even halfway in. 
Feral grunts leave him at the way you moan breathlessly at each motion, scrambling to grab onto the headboard, the sheets, him - just anything to ground you to your sanity as you’re split apart on his achingly hard cock.
Ah, how he loved this little song and dance. A few tears, a few whines - his lil’ slut pretending like you couldn’t take it all - as if your walls aren’t sucking him in so obscenely, hips bucking up mindlessly for more. He loves your cute lil’ mewls when you can’t decide between wanting to run away or milk the soul out of him. 
“Now now,” Toji tuts, looping two muscled arms around your waist so you can’t escape. Tight, grip almost bruising. 
You let out a delirious squeal as he pulls you down down down - onto his thick cock. Plush walls taking him in greedily inch by fucking inch. Hungry for more.
He knew his pretty girl could do it - you always do. 
“Don’t think you can run away from me, doll.” he groans over your pathetic little yelps of “Ah! Too- too big, daddy! Gonna break-”
“Then break f’me.”
And with that, Toji’s had enough of playing nice - ramming in the rest of his length in one, harsh thrust. Not stopping till he’s buried in your dripping cunt all the way to the hilt. 
A low hiss leaves him as his abs rub your skin, twitching balls finally smacking against your ass. Finally taking all of him.
Finally bottoming out. Ah, this is what he’s wanted for s’long - teasing himself just as much as you.
“Oh! Oh my- ah, fuck. Want it- need it s’bad. Please- ngh-” you mewl, hips bucking wildly. Too cock-drunk on the way the tufts hair at his toned pelvis scratch against your throbbing clit to even form proper sentences. God, you think you could almost cum just from the feeling of being so overwhelmingly full of him.
“Feel me in you, pretty girl?” he rumbles, low and dangerous. “Feel me right…” he trails a long finger in between the valley of your breasts. Featherlight touch dancing down, down, down to your navel, pressing hard onto your stomach, “...there.” 
You gasp at the pressure, breath catching in your throat at the dangerous smirk curling his lips as he begins to pull out inch by inch - agonizingly slow. Getting ready to fucking ruin you.  Because boy does it stroke his ego to see you absolutely wrecked by his huge cock, struggling to just take him - but this is where the real fun starts.
♡ NANAMI KENTO - The family man
Nanami’s a very steady man - he always has been.
A steady job, a steady schedule, a steady relationship with you. So, really, it makes sense that he wants a kid, or two - or four with the ways he’s got you folded in half beneath him. Legs thrown over his sculpted shoulders, thighs burning at the stretch as he bends down down down-
A mating press. Nanami Kento had you in a fucking mating press.
And it was very dangerously quickly becoming his favorite thing.
You weren’t sure what to expect with that off-hand comment about wanting kids, but it surely wasn’t for your loving husband to fucking rip your skirt off and bend you over the nearest flat surface, throbbing cock now buried in your dripping pussy.
That was a few days ago.
And now every night without fail, you have Nanami’s seed dripping down your legs, still-achingly hard erection buried in your poor cunt - you doubt you’ll make it out alive this time.
“K-Kento- Hah- hngh, I feel s’full- so-”
“Shhh, darling. One more. Jus’ one more, all you gotta do is take every drop.” he hums, lips ghosting over your racing pulse. Brows furrowed, sweat trickling down his temple, cock ramming into you at such a filthy pace. 
Warm - so warm with his seed. It jolted some carnal part of him - all the way down to his achingly hard cock - to know that he was the one doing this to you. That was his cum filling your pretty pussy. And everyone else would know.
God, you can do nothing but sit there and take it as Nanami edges you closer and closer to your nth orgasm tonight. Thumb drawing rough, frenzied little circles on your throbbing clit that match the merciless pace of his hips. 
Over and over. A quick, maddening tempo he was losing his mind to.
Desperate, so desperate to get you off. 
“Gonna fill you up.” he whispers, voice raw and dripping with need, mind hazy. “Gonna be so round and pretty with my kid, right, darling?” 
You nod eagerly, as he increases his pace impossibly. Your skin stinging where his balls smack your ass, fucked-out little ah! ah! ah! leaving your kiss-bitten lips each time his hips hit yours. 
Drool drips delicately down the corner of your mouth at how animalistically he was fucking you. None of that familiar tenderness - only the pure, filthy desire to breed your pretty lil’ cunt full. All his. 
“You can dress ‘em up, and I’ll take ‘em to school.” he rambles, as half-delirious as you at this point. Drunk off of you and your cunt and you. “And when we’re all alone…” he trails off dangerously. Ripping his gaze from the creamy, white ring forming around his base to look in your eyes, “I’ll fuck another one into you.”
“Ah! Yes yes yes, please. Cum in me baby, fill me up.” 
You see white as you cum - or maybe that was Nanami painting your plushy walls with his seed, you can’t even tell at this point, too exhausted and cock-drunk. All you can feel is Nanami twitching inside you before he’s shooting thick hot spurts of his cum. Again. And again. 
“Oh- Kento, t’much. There’s so much.” you moan softly, words slurring together. Sloppy hole quivering at the feeling of being so deliciously overfilled as Nanami’s cum trickles out of you, forming a wet, sinful pool on the sheets below. 
“Feel it inside you, darling?” he doesn’t stop thrusting - rough, mindless movements from some deep-rooted, primal little part of him. Stuffing you deeper and deeper with his cum. Fully intent on filling you up until he was shooting blanks - or until he physically couldn’t. Whichever comes last.
Fucked-out little yelps leave you with wreckless abandon, mixing with the creaking of the bed at Nanami starts up yet another unforgiving pace, “Yes- Ah! I feel it, Kento. Feel it s’deep inside me.” “Mhm?” he purrs, teeth grazing your earlobe. Darkened eyes glinting with something predatory as they greedily lock onto the way his cum gushes out of you. Seeping into your skin, smearing on his abs - and his rock-hard cock. “Then, better be ready for one more, darling.”
♡ GETO SUGURU - The sweet-talker
If someone saw the ever-graceful Geto Suguru right now, they wouldn’t believe their eyes - and definitely not their ears. Such beautiful words coming out of such a beautiful mouth, but his actions were anything but. 
And it doesn’t even matter the place, he’ll come up right beside you and whisper a few seemingly harmless words. “I really love that skirt on you, angel. Is this the one I bought?” he’d say to you at the convenience store, smiling sweetly at the old woman in front of him that sighs about “young love.”
Little did anyone know that right at that moment, the innocent hand in his pocket fiddles with that little plastic remote. The one he bought specifically to make you lose your sanity.
Intensity setting 2.
“B-baby?” you whimper, breath hitching as you feel the bullet vibrator shoved inside your dripping cunt start to turn up a notch - tiny, methodical vibrations against your snug walls. 
“Yes, my angel?” 
You could almost smack the innocent grin off his devastatingly handsome face. Geto Suguru could win an Oscar for how good he was at acting like he didn’t have a firm grip on your vibrator control. Thumb running harsh, quick little circles on the intensity.
“Nothing.” you grit your teeth, nails digging into his sculpted arm as you hold onto him for support. The little bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzt maddening against your cunt. Praying that no one else here could see your dazed eyes and the way your thighs were quivering desperately. God, could this queue get any longer?
You almost miss the wrinkled hand waving in front of your face, the good-natured voice in front of you asking, “You alright, dearie? You look a bit under the weather.” 
Intensity setting 3.
“I-I’m-” you choke, looking up at Geto for support. In perhaps a miraculous act of kindness, he peers down gently at the old lady. “Don’t worry, grandma. My love here has just been a bit sick today. M’taking her to the doctor after this, y’know. Isn’t that right, angel?”
Intensity setting 4.
Oh, not an act of kindness. Definitely not. 
Panties completely soaked now, pussy clenching desperately around the vibrator. You shoot a quick glare at Geto, who was urging you deceivingly lovingly to answer. God, you could almost hear the laughter inside his mind as you take a steadying breath, stuttering out a barely audible, “Y-yeah. Sick today.”
You couldn’t care less if the sigh of relief you let out is audible to everyone else in the store as the elderly woman turns away with a nod. Mind focused only on Geto and Intensity setting 4 and Geto-
“Aww, what’s wrong, angel? Why do you look like you’re about to cry?” you hear that familiar faux concern from above you. “Which asshole do I need to beat up?”
Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzt 
Gritting your teeth in order to not snap or just outright demand that Geto makes you cum right here, right now. Instead, managing out an unsteady little, “Turn it down.”
“What was that, angel?”
“Turn it down, I swear to-”
You’re cut off by hot breath against your ear, Geto’s voice hoarse with desire as he mutters, “Then cum. Right here.”
And as if to prove his point, he deftly runs his fingers along the intensity control once more, rubbing maddening little circles along it. Edging your climax and your sanity like the sadistic bastard he was. 
Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzt 
And you could tell by the faint smirk curling his lips that he was taunting you - torturing you to just break or break him. Whichever comes first.
Thighs trembling, knees weak, you shiver as you finally reach the counter, Geto’s thumb now firmly set on Intensity setting 4 as he speaks casually with the cashier. How dare he talk about the weather when you were reaching a breaking point here? 
Tears prick at your eyes - both at the pure overstimulation and the frustration of not being able to fucking cum. No matter how much you wanted to. 
“Angel, you don’t look too well. Want to sit down?”
You clench your jaw, trying to maintain some level of composure as Geto pays for your items. Every second feels like an eternity, every nerve ending screaming for release. 
You muster a weak nod even as you can feel your thighs quivering, blood roaring in your ears - you refuse to let him win. At least this time.
“C’mon now, let’s get you home and rested.” By the time Geto steers you to the exit, you’re practically begging for relief. His arm hot around your waist, your vision blurring at the edges. You’ve only made one step outside when-
Intensity setting 5.
You cum with a strangled yelp. Nails digging into Geto’s forearm hard - part in surprise and part revenge for all of that. His strong arm being the only thing grounding you - and the only thing keeping you from collapsing to the fucking ground.
Your orgasm takes you by surprise, and for a brief moment, all you can do is breathe, your eyes fluttering closed as your body shudders at the shockwaves of electricity. God, you almost think you see the pearly gates of heaven at the sheer intensity of your pleasure.
When you crack open your eyes again, you find Geto staring at you. Ah, an angel.
“Well, you should be thankful I went easy on you this time.”
Nevermind, it’s the devil incarnate.  Geto leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “Hope you’re not feeling too ‘under the weather’, angel. Because I’ve got a plan in mind and we’re going to be doing something much more fun than going to the doctor."
♡ CHOSO KAMO - Marked up and all his
Choso knew you were hot - it only bothered him that everyone else did too. 
Which is probably why you’ll often find him all but dragging you into the nearest bathroom at whatever party. Barely even locking the door before he’s got you pressed against the cold counter, leaking tip dragging teasingly along your swollen folds. 
“Choso, baby~” you whine softly from where his furiously flushed head was kissing your dripping cunt, barely audible over the loud thumping of the music from the other side of the door. “More, deeper.”
And, well, whatever his sweetheart wants - she will get. Because he immediately presses in, plunging inch by fucking inch into your sloppy heaven. Veins dragging so maddeningly across your walls as he bullies his throbbing cock into your snug cunt. 
“This what you want? To be split apart on my cock, sweetheart?” He groans into the crook of your neck, your sweet moans going straight to his aching cock. Tongue flattening along the skin, licking long, languid stripes up your neck, he nibbles lightly - all part of his plan.
“Hah- Hngh, yes baby. Jus’ like that.” Enveloping himself in your warmth, thrusting in small, mindless little motions of his hips. Not even wanting to get himself off - just wanting, needing to feel your pretty pussy around his cock. To prove to himself that you were his.
But it wasn’t enough.
Mouth still relentlessly marking and biting your skin, Choso guides your legs to wrap around his toned waist - a signal to pull, to use him to your heart’s content.
“Fuck, Choso- Fucking me s’good.” Your legs tighten around him, pulling him impossibly closer. It’s all Choso ever wants. 
One hand deftly snakes it’s way down to your throbbing clit, rolling his thumb along the sensitive bud in just the way he knows will make you squeal and buck your hips onto his cock for more more more-
And the other - ah, yes, he can’t forget why he’s here - neat fingernails digging deep into your skin. Leaving pretty crescents in their wake - just below where your tight lil’ party dress hiked up. To show all those losers on the dance floor who you belong to.
Dragging. Marking. 
His mouth leaves their place from your neck to whisper against your lips, darkened eyes boring into yours, “You’re mine, y’know that?” 
You can do nothing but nod breathlessly into the heady air, hips bucking wildly underneath him as he increases his pace. Keening deliriously at the bruising grip on your hips and the even harder one on your poor cunt.
“Mine. All mine.” he grits out, twitching balls smacking your ass, rock-hard cock dipping in and out in and out in and-
“Those losers can’t fuck you the way I do, sweetheart.”
And then you’re cumming. Jolts of electricity running down your spine - and your nails raking down Choso’s. Red-hot patterns in their wake - and that’s exactly what sends him over the edge. “Ah- Shit shit shit, yes mark me till m’bloody yes-”
And maybe you do, because his throbbing cock twitches deeply in your pussy. Thrusting once, twice before he pumps thick, hot ropes into your fluttering walls. Tight balls squeezing painfully as he cums with a loud groan of your name. 
Two arms kneading your ass - wrapping bruisingly around your waist - touching any and every inch of skin he could reach. Leaving pretty little marks for days.
You can feel such a sinful, sticky mixture of his slick and your cum trailing down your legs as he fucks you both through your highs. Pooling at the cold counter, stomach now uncomfortably hot, vision blurry - yet you still manage to make out the satisfied grin on Choso’s face. 
Pure pride shining in his eyes as he takes in your fucked-out state, marks blossoming along your skin as if you’d been thrown to the wolves. 
Ah, success.
But he’s barely had time to bask in his victory till you murmur out a quick “Hold on.” Pulling him firmly by the collar of his t-shirt. Lips firmly slotting over the sensitive skin peaking out. 
Choso’s breath hitches as you bite and tease the skin - a pathetic little imitation of the absolute wreck he’d havoced on your skin - not pulling away until you’re satisfied with the dark, red mark blossoming on his milky skin. 
“There. Perfect.” you flash an almost-innocent grin at him. And despite all that transpired in this heady bathroom, this is what makes his knees weaken so desperately. Oh, how he loved being yours.
♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - The show-off
If the King of Curses owns something nice and pretty, then you can bet he’s going to show it off to everyone and anyone that crosses him. It doesn’t matter if it’s human trash or some lowly curse he’s just about to kill, all of them have the same last sight - you.
You, sat so prettily on the hulking king’s lap. All doe-eyed and batting your lashes so innocently at him as he wielded chaos on his throne. 
It made them almost want to save you from this monster, only to realize - if Sukuna was feeling particularly generous that day - that he was the last thing that you needed saving from. 
Because if by some miracle, Sukuna was feeling generous - and decided that those scum that bow beneath him should see something pretty before they die - then they see you. Legs spread so shamefully on his lap, large arms the width of your head keeping them open for your guests.
Sukuna trails his rough fingers dangerously down your robe - one that does absolutely nothing to hide your curves or the heaving of your chest. Thin fabric tearing easily under his sharp fingernails, exposing such tantalizing flashes of skin as whoever’s watching gulps heavily in both fear and anticipation. 
He doesn’t stop till your robe is all but hanging off you now, dripping cunt soaking the tattered fabric as you keen desperately into his touch. 
“Shhh, my lil’ slut.” he murmurs, low and gravelly into your ear, hot breath sending jolts of electricity coursing through your veins. “Wouldn’t want to be rude in front of our guests, hm?”
Whoever’s bowing before you two don’t know what makes shivers run down their spine more - Sukuna’s dangerous words or the way you whine desperately. “But Sukuna~” grinding onto his very obvious erection as you do, “Wan’ you so badly, haven’t been filled by you today.”
Shit, scratch that. The scariest thing here was the deep chuckle that echoes across the throne room - the King of Curses laughing. Laughing. 
They watch in horror - unable to rip their eyes away - as he snakes down two large fingers to your dripping cunt, spreading open your swollen folds. Absolutely delighting in the way you flutter around nothing - his lil’ slut, so desperate for him. 
You buck readily into his hold as Sukuna bullies two large fingers into your snug cunt. Ready walls clenching down so sinfully at finally getting some of the friction you’d been aching for all day.
“Ohh, yes. Sukuna, finally. Wanted you in me s’bad.” you squeal as he curls his fingers deftly inside you, expertly grazing that familiar spot he knew would have you falling apart in a matter of a few seconds. 
“So spoiled.” Sukuna hums, a sly grin curling his lips - and the scum bowing before him completely forgotten - as he starts pumping his fingers in and out of your sloppy hole. Thrusting in rough, jerky little movements that no matter how filthy and unrefined they seem - hold a dangerous, calculated intent as he hits that spot over and over.
The ones before you find their cocks hardening traitorously at your breathy whines and the lewd squelching sounds. Torn between training their eyes on the ground and greedily watching your thighs quiver on the monster’s lap, cunt dripping so obscenely onto his robe. 
“Look at her.” a sharp order jolts them out of their reverie. Sukuna didn’t have to ask, he knew you were a heavenly vision in his little hell. Yet, he continues anyway, amusement spiking at the way they can do nothing but gape at what they can never have “Look. So desperate f’me. Should I make her cum?”
“Nooo, Sukuna don’ be mean~” you whine half-deliriously at the silence that follows. Voice strangled at the merciless pace Sukuna had on your cunt, rolling your swollen clit on his fingers, dipping in and out in and out in and-
Sukuna chuckles darkly in your ear, over the protests of the trash at his feet, “Seems like they don’t want you to cum.” He increases his pace ruthlessly, over and over. Hitting that spot with reckless abandon, delighting in the way you writhe and convulse on his lap. “But s’alright, I’ll be the one to make you cum. Your king, hm?”
And make you cum he does. Adding three fingers into your tight cunt now, thrusting in and out at a pace that has you bowing into his hulking body. Over and over. Hurried. Hasty. Almost torturous for those watching.
“Ah! Yes yes yes, Sukuna~ M’gonna-” you can barely finish the sentence before you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, broken moans of Sukuna’s name leaving your swollen lips. He doesn’t stop - not when your orgasm is mere tingles, your voice too raw to even let out fucked-out moans. Not even when you’re quivering and fidgeting on his laps.  Not even when he leans down to mutter in your ear, voice husky with pure need, “Now, how should I kill these fuckers off?”
♡ GOJO SATORU - Just a lil’ taste
The great Gojo Satoru loves all things sweet, and that includes you. Not just you, but your pretty lips, your sweet cunt, and the sweetest - something else he’d never admit to anyone but you - the taste of him in you.
And right now - bullying his throbbing cock into your snug cunt, his heavy balls smacking your ass over and over as he rams into you hard, fast - Gojo knows there’s something for him to look forward to. 
The bed creaks in protest as he chases the heavenly feeling of your tight pussy around him, mixing with the filthy moans leaving your mouth.
He was probably going to get another noise complaint - good, let them nosy fuckers know how good he makes you feel.
“Ah! Hah- hngh, Toru filling me up s’good.” you mewl and buck your hips underneath him for more more more- wanting, needing the feeling of him stretching you so deliciously. His glistening veins dragging along that one spot so deliciously, pulsing against your tight walls at an urgent, incessant rhythm. 
“Oh yeah?” he grunts. Cock pushing into you deeper and deeper, cervix kissing your tip so painfully good. “Like this? Like it when I fuck you like this? Can’t get enough of it, hm?”
Because of course, Gojo Satoru can’t stop running his mouth even when he’s fucking you relentlessly. Even when his thrusts grow frenzied, sloppy with desire. And especially not when you’re creaming on his achingly hard cock.
God, you’re so fucking perfect he can’t help but lose himself in the heat of the moment as well. 
Body arching off the bed, you see stars behind your eyes as Gojo cums in thick, hot spurts inside your fluttering walls. “Shit, oh Toru, s’full inside me hah-”
You think you probably cum harder just at the sight before you. 
Gojo’s head thrown back, blue eyes prettily rolling to the back of his head as he bites his lips in concentration - desperately trying to fight off that feral, animalistic part of himself that just wants to fuck his cum deeper and deeper inside your dripping cunt. Wrestling that urge to breed you full to the back of his mind. 
No, because he’s got bigger things in mind. 
Bigger things that include urgently dropping to his knees as soon as your breathless moans bate. He wrestles your hips on the mattress, grip bruising on your waist as he pulls your pretty cunt closer. All wet and painted white with his cum, dripping so obscenely onto the fresh sheets below.
Mouth dropping into a soft oh! at the sinful sight before him, Gojo doesn’t waste a second before surging forward. 
Nose-deep in your pussy, he doesn’t stop till he’s nose-deep and breathing you in so obscenely. Tongue bullying its way in between your swollen folds, dipping into your sloppy entrance in and out in and out in and out-
He groans into your cunt as he tastes himself. Tastes you. 
Sweet. 
The absolutely filthy mixture of his cum and your slick sliding down his tongue as he laps up your juices with the desperation of a madman. God, it makes the blood rush straight to his dick at the way your mouth drops open in disbelief - he never does get used to it.
Messy. It was so fucking messy. 
“Mmm, s’sweet on my tongue, baby.” he slurs, drunk off the absolutely intoxicating taste of your sin. “Fuck- Can’t get enough of it. Shit.” 
You flinch as he swears into your throbbing cunt. Seeing flashes of white behind your eyes each time he flicks his tongue just right to graze over all your most sensitive spots. You could almost cry from the overstimulation - walls fluttering sensitively around his relentless tongue.
And you probably do really cry when Gojo moves up your dripping pussy, sucking on your swollen clit. Rolling his tongue over and over at the same maddening pace of the tears down your cheeks. 
Absentmindedly, you wonder whether he’s done with his little feast - and moving on to torture you full time now.
Gojo huffs out a laugh into your cunt, popping off your abused clit with a lewd pop! Hands snaking down to grab his rock-hard base. Pulling in short, desperate little tugs to get himself ready for what was to come. “Yeah, m’done, baby.” he chuckles darkly. Shit, did you say that out loud? 
But you have no time to wonder too long about that, instead stuck on that dangerous little glint in his eyes as he stands from his position nose-deep in your cunt. Swiping his tongue across his lips, savoring every last drop of you. 
Dazed, your eyes drift from his slick-glossed mouth down, down, down to-
Oh.
“Don’t worry, baby. M’gonna be feasting again real soon.”
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A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.
3K notes · View notes
chuluoyi · 1 day
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。.*。☆゚ 🕰️ 03.12 a.m
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tw: pregnancy. just a little something based on ask~ gojo annoys you on daily basis, so now you return the favor and he can't refuse it bc you're his baby mama😋
a part of gojo's love entries
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“satoru— your baby is hungry,” you pouted, poking his cheek repeatedly. “sa-to-ru!!”
it was 3 in the morning, and ideally, you would have been sleeping... only that suddenly you were awoken by rumbles from your growing belly.
yet your husband was still sound asleep without any care in the world, prompting you to poke him until you succeeded in making him hear you out.
satoru begrudgingly cracked his eyes open, still having his face tucked under the blanket and yawning. “ngh, sweets… what is it?”
his sleepy voice was thick, low and raspy. usually you’d swoon and leave a hickey or two on his neck but not now, as the overwhelming hunger made you almost curl.
“baby is craving mochi,” you said, eyes shining up to him ever so innocently. “get it for me, satoruuu.”
“oh?” if he wasn’t awake before, now he was after hearing your nagging tone drawling his name. he faced you and drew you closer. “what do you want again, hmm?”
“ice cream mochi!!”
“oooh that.” satoru scratched his head at the memory of him eating the last of it yesterday. “but we ran out of them, sweetheart… wait till morning, yeah? i’ll go to market to get some.”
“but...”
“can’t baby wait a few more hours, hmm?”
“no! want it— now!”
satoru blinked at your insistence. you looked positively adorable while sulking at him too.
“why mochi all of sudden, huh?” he decided to humor you. “you used to say they taste bland.”
“that’s because of your sperm infecting me,” you sullenly accused. “and don’t pretend you haven’t been feeding me mochi for weeks. baby likes it more than i thought.”
“hey! don’t bash my sperm! they did no wrong and complete the deed splendidly!”
“you’re just a one-time donor, don’t be smug.”
he whined and you huffed, before suddenly your stomach grumbled loudly and you curled up. “mmhm.”
“hey… what’s wrong?” satoru quickly sat up and placed his hand on your baby bump. “really hungry? wait, i’ll get you something to nibble on first.”
he rummaged through his work uniform and found several bite-sized chocolate bars he brought around, and unwrapped the foil. “here.”
you immediately devoured the treat to sate your hunger, but still, your baby longed for more—
“mochi…” you mumbled despondently, your expression turning heartbroken. and one second later satoru realized how much he wanted to squeeze your cheeks, and relented.
“okay, okay, sweets~” he gave your head several comforting pats, making you look up. “i’ll go and get the mochi, yeah? you stay put and wait for me, 'kay?”
“yay.” a little smile bloomed in your face and satoru chuckled, finding you so unbearably endearing.
and so, for you, he ventured out to the closest 24-hour convenience store, picking up some ice cream mochi along with other treats to replenish your stock, before teleporting back home.
he was expecting that you'd still be all sulky while waiting for him, but instead, he found you peacefully asleep, hogging his pillow.
each breath that caused your chest to rise and fall made you appear all the more vulnerable and soft in his eyes.
you looked so irrevocably precious to him. his sweet little wife... in that moment, satoru felt like he was the luckiest man alive, getting to have you as his.
“you naughty girl.” he let out an amused laugh before reclaiming his spot next to you. the hold you had over him— you made him go through the cold night air, and now you were monopolizing his pillow and he had to resume sleeping without one at all.
and yet all he could feel was love. for you and your baby, as he pulled you close to his chest.
“both of you sure love teaming up against me, huh?”
2K notes · View notes
sansaorgana · 2 days
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— THROWN TO THE WOLVES (VIII)
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PART ONE || PART TWO || PART THREE PART FOUR || PART FIVE || PART SIX PART SEVEN
PAIRING — Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader // Atreides!OC
SUMMARY — Giedi Prime celebrates Feyd-Rautha's birthday and the hundredth kill in the arena. Meanwhile, na-baroness gets reminded by The Baron who pulls the strings and finds out unpleasant truth about the promise her aunt has given to the Bene Gesserit.
AUTHOR’S NOTE — It’s written as an usual x Reader fic without describing anything about the Reader’s looks but I still classified it as an OC as well since she is Paul Atreides’ half-sister. I wasn't sure what titles Feyd's children would have but since his brother is a Count, I assumed his children would be C(o)unts and C(o)untesses. I mean, his eldest son would become na-baron but only after his father would become The Baron, I assume 🤔 Next chapter we go to Arrakis, babes!!! 🤭 Thank you for all your comments, reblogs and messages! 💕
WARNINGS — arranged marriage, mentions of sexual activities (no actual smut), violent behaviour, death, syringes, mentions of planned and scientifical breeding, blood pact
WORD COUNT — 6,670
ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.
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THROWN TO THE WOLVES (VIII)
You were laying on an examination table and staring at the black ceiling above you while the medic was busy with noting down some things and injecting you with vitamins, minerals and proteins. It was the day of Feyd-Rautha’s hundredth kill and his birthday but you hadn’t spent much time with him the past few days since he was restraining himself physically before the fight.
You still shared one bed with him, though. He wasn’t avoiding you as much as he had been the last time.
“How do you feel, na-baroness?” The medic asked and you smirked at him.
“Like you care about it,” you pointed out. “We both know you only care about the child.”
“I care about what I am being told to care about, my Lady. I follow orders,” he explained. “I asked na-baron the other day whether I should do everything to keep you in the best state possible or focus strictly on the child, na-baroness. He wanted me to ensure you would be alright,” he added and you tried your best not to show how surprised you were.
“He really said that?” You only asked.
“Well…” the medic looked down and laughed nervously, “he said that you might still be useful later, my Lady. Forgive my words.”
“The words are not yours, therefore you do not have to apologise for them,” you assured him. “Anyway, if I ordered for you to be killed, who would make sure I am alright?” You teased with a smile and he sighed with relief.
“So, how do you feel, na-baroness?” He repeated the previous question.
“I feel… different,” you told him. “I have these cravings…”
“Cravings are perfectly normal during pregnancy, my Lady,” he nodded his head.
“Yes, I understand. But recently I want to eat the same food as my husband although I still find it quite disgusting but… I still crave it. Feyd says it’s the child being whimsy but he is no medic…”
“It will pass,” the medic looked up at you and assured you. “The cravings will pass, my lady, after the pregnancy. Your husband is right about the child.”
“Other than that, except for feeling a little emotional at times, I do not experience any side effects of pregnancy. I don’t even feel sick in the mornings,” you told him.
“Yes, because I am trying my best to make this process go as smoothly as possible for you, my Lady,” he smiled and noted something down again.
“But…” you furrowed your brows, remembering something that had been worrying you lately. He looked up at you. “You see, during the celebration, I talked to my previous maids, perhaps you remember them. And they are pregnant, too. One of them told me the Harkonnen pregnancies are different and she warned me.”
The medic sighed and leaned back in the chair as he hesitated for a while whether he should explain this whole situation to you or not.
“There is no such thing as Harkonnen pregnancy, my Lady. We are humans just like you are,” he reminded you. “It’s the centuries of living on this heavily polluted planet that made us look the way we do and mutated some of our DNA but we are not of different species.”
“I understand,” you nodded. “Forgive me, I did not want to insult your culture.”
“Na-baroness does not have to apologise,” he bowed his head down slightly. “You see, our women are not very fertile because of the atmosphere on this planet. That is why our… medicine… has progressed so much. We needed to find an artificial way of ensuring population growth. The Harkonnen women – even boosted with injections – usually weaken a lot during pregnancies. But their bodies do not change much. When it comes to off-world women…” He hesitated once again and you sat up, listening very carefully. “Let’s say, your body treats your son as a foreign element. He is half Harkonnen – with the best genetic material from his father, of course – but your… clean and healthy body treats him as something polluted and poisonous. And what happens, my Lady, when you spill a drop of poison into someone’s drink?” He asked you.
“Diffusion,” you gasped and he nodded. Your heart skipped a beat. “So, the child is poisoning me?” You swallowed thickly as you asked. You could feel all your limbs go weak at the thought.
“No, na-baroness, not with me around,” he chuckled and shook his head. “But your former maids do not have such medical innovations, I’m afraid.”
“Will they die then?” You asked.
“No, they will not die. And their bodies might go back to normal some time after the pregnancy, once the blood gets rid of all the… toxins,” he added. “Forgive me, I did not mean to scare you, my Lady. And it brings me no pleasure to admit how truly poisoned our people are. It feels humiliating in a way.”
“So I have nothing to worry about?” You stood up and watched him carefully. He was visibly hiding something from you.
“Na-baroness doesn’t have to worry about the child taking away her strength, no,” he only said.
“What should I worry about then?” You raised your eyebrow at him, demanding an answer. You could see him panicking a little. He was the Baron’s loyal servant but you were being pushy and he was aware of the power you had recently gained. He couldn’t just lie to you so easily nowadays.
“I think you have been thinking of it, too, my Lady, of that possibility,” he whispered and you furrowed your brows. “Your mother, she… She died in childbirth, did she not? And everyone keeps saying how much you look like her, my Lady.”
“My mother did not die because she was weak in flesh,” you explained to him although you became nervous when he mentioned that. “She died because she was weak in mind. She couldn’t bear to live with my father in a loveless union. It killed her that on the day I was born he was with his pregnant lover. She died of sadness,” you informed him and he widened his eyes a little at that. You were aware that your explanation was not exactly very medically accurate.
“I can only say that I will try my best for the same thing not happening to you, na-baroness,” he stood up as well and bowed down, making you feel stupid for your outburst. Of course he was right. Your mother had died because she had lost too much blood.
She had died because of you.
Because of a child with a man she hadn’t loved. Because of a child she probably hadn’t even wanted in the first place.
Your whole life you had been imagining your life with her. How much she would love and cherish you. But what if she would not? Now, more than ever, pregnant with Feyd-Rautha’s son, you understood what your mother had gone through. She had been forced to give birth to you and she had paid the biggest price for it.
“I… I should leave now and prepare for the event,” you told the medic and he nodded at you and watched you walk out of the room.
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You walked through the dark corridor being led by the guards. You had been there before, a few days after your wedding, being taken to Feyd-Rautha preparing for his fight, scared of his reaction to see you disobeying him with the choice of your dress. These past few months, lots of things had changed. You walked confidently now with your head held high and waited for the guard to open the big, black doors in front of you.
You walked inside the room and spotted your husband in the middle of it, surrounded by the servants putting black paint stripes on his bare chest. One of the male servants was presenting the knives on a black, velvet cushion.
They all turned around to see you approaching them and you purposefully took your time while walking gracefully in a dress that was supposed to be one of his birthday presents. It was a mix of black latex – one of your new favourite fabrics – and black silk. Delicacy and vulgarity mixed together, wrapped around your curves and revealing just enough to let the imagination run free but not enough to actually reveal anything that belonged to Feyd-Rautha only. Your hair was loose but you wore a beautiful black diadem that had been a gift from one of the lords, given to you during the celebration feast thrown in your honour.
“Well, well, well,” Feyd’s eyes squinted at the sight of you as you stood right in front of him. You hadn’t seen him at all this morning because he had woken up very early to prepare. “I was just about to check the blade,” he pointed at one of the knives on the cushion. You saw terror in the eyes of the servants standing behind him.
Feyd reached out for the knife and balanced it a little in his hand before facing you and opening his mouth to show off his long tongue and licking the tip of the blade. You nearly gasped at the vulgarity of this act that made you ache in your core after a few days of not being touched by him at all. In your head, you imagined him dropping to his knees and burying his face right between your legs. It was making you feel dizzy to think of that and the tension between you two seemed to be under voltage.
But when you spotted his wrist tilting a bit, you already knew what would happen now.
“Tsk, tsk,” you hissed at him and he froze, confusedly looking at you. “It’s time to grow up, don’t you think?” You asked, teasingly. “Only spoiled little boys discard their toys so easily.”
You liked his bloodthirst and found it more than useful but you didn’t like to watch innocent slaves being killed for fun. You knew that it was not the custom of all Harkonnens to do that. A common lord would not kill so easily mostly because it would cost him money to get another slave. But Feyd couldn’t care less about the material aspect of it.
“Also, I do not understand why you decide to restrain yourself from fucking me but you can’t restrain yourself from killing before the actual fight in the arena. It makes no sense to me,” you added. “You need to be as railed up as possible.”
After a short while he lowered his hand and put the knife back on the cushion as the servants behind him sighed with relief.
“It’s not balanced properly,” he told the male servant. “Bring me another one, you useless sack of meat,” he ordered and the nervous man bowed down before hurrying out of the room.
“Good boy,” you praised Feyd, proud of yourself.
It was one thing to make him kill for you but it was another to stop him from killing.
“You want to weaken me,” he drawled through the gritted teeth. He was already railed up to the maximum and it was delicious to see him in such a state.
“Me?” You asked, playfully. “Far from that,” you explained. “I want you to be a rabid dog today, do you understand me?” You took a step forward to grab his crotch as your face remained inches away from his. The servants behind him widened their eyes and you felt a shiver going down his starved body. “Today is very important, my pet,” you whispered. “Do not disappoint me,” your hand squeezed him and let go as fast as you felt him hardening under your palm.
Feyd smirked at you.
“Rabid dog,” he only nodded, “for my Baroness,” he added and you felt a wave of pleasure crawling all the way through your skin.
You leaned in to cup his cheeks and place a kiss upon his forehead.
“Accept my blessing,” you breathed out, “and happy birthday, my darling”.
You took a step back and smiled faintly at him before bowing down slightly –  pure act of mockery after showing your unquestionable dominance – and walking away to leave the room to let him continue his preparations.
“I will make you proud,” you heard his voice when the guards opened the doors in front of you. To that, you gave no answer as you left the chamber and placed both of your hands protectively on your abdomen.
The truth was, he had no idea how important that fight could be for the both of you. Baron Harkonnen hadn’t spoken to you a lot the past few days and you had no idea if he had decided to listen to your advice or not. For a while you wanted to warn Feyd about such a possibility but you knew that it would only take away satisfaction and pleasure from him. And it was his birthday. He deserved his gift.
That is, if The Baron had listened to you.
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After being announced, you waved at the Giedi Prime citizens gathered in the arena as they cheered loudly at the sight of you. You gave them a wide but dignified smile before sitting on the chair next to the Baron’s and taking your binoculars from his servant.
“You will be pleased,” Baron told you as he watched you from the corner of his eye and puffed on his pipe.
“There are a lot of ways to please me, my Lord. Care to specify?” You teased and you swore, one of his eyes twitched at that.
“He will be given three Atreides soldiers that we kept imprisoned after taking over Arrakis. You might even recognise them,” Baron explained.
“I doubt,” you winced. “I never paid attention to soldiers,” you explained. “Not as individuals, I mean.”
“Well, you better pay attention to one of them now because he is not drugged,” Baron informed you and your heart skipped a beat at the revelation.
It made you both excited and terrified. You couldn’t show any of this to the Baron so you just nodded your head at him.
“If my nephew dies today, it will be on you,” he chuckled.
“It has no significance to you, does it? Your next heir is already in the making,” you pointed out sternly and caressed your womb. You dropped your formalities with him nearly at all because you felt that you no longer had to address him as my Lord. Not only you had advanced in his eyes in the ladder of his enemies but you also held the title of Duchess Atreides.
Oh, you had just realised. You really were Duchess Atreides now. And you would watch your husband murdering your own soldiers. That was dark, you had to admit. Baron still had his spirit.
“If my nephew turns out to be so weak to be killed today by a mid Atreides soldier, I am sure his son will be no better,” Baron’s voice got serious again and it caused a chill to go down your spine.
Well, you were trapped. Feyd had to win, otherwise you and your son would die, too. How stupid you had been to think that the Baron wouldn’t twist the game for his own gain.
“We will have to find a way to plant a better seed in your cunning womb then, my Baroness,” his eyes sparkled at you and then he brought the binoculars to his face and watched the arena.
You turned your head around to hide the way your body gagged at his words. You’d rather him to kill you than find a way to implant his spawn inside your womb, even if it would not even require touching him.
You took a deep breath in and watched Feyd entering the arena through your binoculars as the crowd cheered. What had you done…? Had you outplayed yourself? Would it be your end?
Your shaking hand squeezed your womb as if you wanted to comfort your son although he was too small to be stressed about it.
It’s going to be alright, you kept thinking, pretending you were talking to your child. Your father’s going to win it, my little one, don’t you worry.
You were so lost in the thoughts of stress and anxiety that your senses got numbed for a while and you came back to reality only when the whole arena was filled with a loud cheer as Feyd’s first opponent was killed.
You sighed with relief as he had only two to go now. You focused on the man who was not drugged and you realised that you indeed recognised him. He was an excellent warrior and it made you feel uneasy.
You tried not to look at the Baron at all but you could feel his eyes on you. And not only his.
You looked up through your binoculars and saw that on the balcony in front of you, the Bene Gesserit sisters were sitting together. Not only the local one but lots of them – hiding in the shadows behind their veils. Watching you.
You wondered if one of them was your aunt. Probably.
“Don’t you just hate them?” You fought your disgust and fear as you spoke up.
“Hm?” Baron asked.
“The Bene Gesserit,” you explained. “Their schemes and plans, they interfere with yours a lot, don’t they? Don’t you hate how much power they hold even over you?”
“Well, what would you propose to do with them? I can’t just throw them out,” he laughed at you.
“Why not? If I was The Baroness, I’d limit their influence in the Harkonnen systems,” you told him and he brought the binoculars down as the crowd cheered when Feyd dealt with another drugged warrior.
“Then perhaps you are not ready to become her yet,” Baron squinted his eyes at you.
“Why is that?” You brought your binoculars down as well and dared to turn your head around to face him as if you were accepting a challenge.
“You cannot reject customs so old and so common throughout the galaxy if you want to be a respectable House and not an outsider. I thought you’d know that, it’s basic knowledge,” he explained.
“I thought The Harkonnens were richer than the Emperor himself and with an army much bigger than his. Houses of such influence don’t have to care about the rules. They make them. I thought you’d know that, it’s basic knowledge,” you drawled.
If Feyd would win this fight, you would remain untouchable. If he would die, your life would be hell anyway. You had nothing to lose. You could speak to The Baron however you wished. At least your anger was telling you this and it was very tempting to listen to it.
But The Baron only chuckled at you.
“I like your fierceness. It is obvious you hold lots of hatred towards the Bene Gesserit but you cannot let your personal judgement overshadow the real situation. They can be useful,” he told you.
“I guess they can be,” you shrugged your arms and brought the binoculars back to your face.
“If it wasn’t for them, your dead body would rot in the Arrakis’ desert now,” Baron reminded you and you swallowed thickly.
You had other things to worry about now. Feyd was left alone with the undrugged Atreides warrior and he was struggling to win that one. You clutched on the edge of your chair with one of your hands as you watched him being nearly killed over and over. He was fighting back excellently but his opponent was more equal to him and his skills than you’d like him to be. You could see on the people’s faces that they all held their breaths.
But none of their lives were in as much danger as yours in the case of your husband’s death.
Your anxiety turned your hands cold and formed a gulp in your throat that was making you feel nauseous as you watched Feyd getting rid of all his cheating devices that were supposed to make him safe. He was full of adrenaline and wanted to show off – to make you proud. But he had no idea how much it all could ruin your life in the process.
“What is he doing?” Even Baron’s servant was shocked.
“Showing his worth,” Baron chuckled.
You wanted to scream at The Baron to make it stop and it was physically hurting you that you had to restrain yourself from doing so. You couldn’t show weakness but not only were you worried about yourself and your child but you had also just realised you were worried about your husband’s life.
It was an odd discovery but when you thought that you’d never be able to hear him call you pet or have him fuck you, you would miss it dearly. If you’d never be able to cup his angry face and watch it relax at your sweet cooing, you would be very upset.
It was pure torture to watch him fight now and struggle with the Atreides soldier. There was no way the Baron didn’t see the way your legs and arms were shaking. But it probably brought him nothing but pleasure.
When Feyd definitely killed the brave opponent and was announced a winner as he screamed in victory and raised his blade, you still couldn’t believe that it was happening for real. You needed a moment to go back to reality and when the cheers of Giedi Prime citizens reached your ears, you stood up abruptly. The people cheered even louder now at the sight of you and you approached the railing to look down at your husband.
You were aware that all binoculars at the moment were pointed at you so you tried not to show a hint of fear and nothing but pride. In Feyd’s eyes you spotted a sparkle at the sight of your satisfaction with his performance.
You turned around and passed the chuckling Baron without the word to reach the elevator as your guard followed you without a word. You wanted to be with your husband now.
It seemed like forever until the elevator was finally down and you hurried out of it to run through the dark corridor to reach the doors to Feyd’s chamber. On your way you spotted the Harkonnen servants dragging dead bodies of his opponents but you didn’t even flinch.
“Stay outside,” you ordered the guard and he nodded before you pushed the doors open and entered the room.
Feyd was standing there shirtless and smirking proudly at himself as the medic was tending his fresh wounds with some sort of liquid. You approached them and the medic bowed down at you as he moved out of your way.
You cupped your husband’s face and brought it down to press his forehead to yours. He was a bit taken aback by the aggressiveness of your moves.
“You did it, Feyd. You did it,” you felt tears streaming down your face and he furrowed his brows at your reaction. He grabbed your wrists and pushed you away slightly.
“You knew,” he only said and clenched his jaw. “You knew about that man not being drugged, did you not?” His pupils darkened. “What game are you playing? Trying to get rid of me with my uncle, huh? You want to be his little Baroness instead?”
“My Lord…” The medic tried to interfere seeing the way your husband was twisting your wrists to cause you pain. But Feyd only gave him a deadly glare.
Sometimes rabid dogs would bite their owners, too. You weren’t scared of him, though. He was confused and jealous.
“My darling, not only I knew but it was also my idea,” you told him and he froze to take a better look at your face. You smiled at him. “And now everyone on Giedi Prime respects you for the warrior you are. I have seen you train many times before, I thought the way your uncle gives you drugged warriors is humiliating to you,” you explained softly. “I couldn’t tell you before because it would spoil your fun. Happy birthday, Feyd,” you added.
He softened in an instant and let go of your wrists only to grab them again and bring them to his lips and shower them with hungry and sloppy kisses that would later leave the red marks. His kisses were never soft or gentle, you suspected he wouldn’t know how to kiss like that.
“Leave us,” you whispered almost inaudibly to the medic and he bowed down before walking outside the room.
When Feyd finished soothing your wrists, he pulled you closer to him and you placed a kiss on his forehead.
“You made me proud,” you told him and picked up the bowl of liquid the medic had left behind as you began to tend your husband’s wounds yourself. He shivered when your fingertip touched him gently for the first time and you shushed him quietly. “When you killed your harpies, your uncle caught me in an empty room and told me that the other lords call you weak now. I told him to give you a real warrior so the lords stop their whispers. But my real agenda was to show the nobility of Giedi Prime that you are a worthy successor,” you shared the details of your plan with him.
“What do you mean he caught you in an empty room?” Feyd’s jaw clenched.
“That is not important now, my pet,” you shook your head with a chuckle. Your fingers worked delicately and slowly on his smooth skin. You doubted anyone had ever touched him this way before.
“One victory like this is not enough,” he pointed out.
“I know. But now it’s going to be easier. We still have to be patient, though,” you looked up to meet his gaze. “Here, it’s done,” you announced and put the bowl away.
“You should leave before I ravage you,” he looked you up and down with so much hunger in his eyes that you felt as if you were already naked in front of him.
“You think I don’t feel the same after all these days of not feeling you?” You laughed at him. “Do it,” you dared him and his eyes widened. “I trust you won’t hurt me despite your starvation,” you teased.
Some part of you really trusted him. Perhaps because he was the only person in the world you could trust amongst the Harkonnens and you desperately wanted an ally.
Your plan would only work out if you had Feyd by your side.
“Later,” he shook his head, surprising you with the level of his self-discipline. “I can wait a few more hours but I will not risk the safety of my heir,” he explained.
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The birthday celebrations started but Feyd was not very excited about them. He had been way more interested in the celebration thrown for you and your son than about his own. He seemed to be bored and all the gifts presented to him were making him nod his head without any enthusiasm whatsoever. Birthdays were not celebrated as officially as other holidays on Giedi Prime so you were able to roam freely around the room and talk to people while he was doing his own thing. However, you were growing tired and exhausted. It was evening already and all the stress you had experienced earlier wore you out. 
You felt Feyd’s hands on your shoulders and you turned around to face him with a smile.
“I’m bored here,” he told you.
“It’s your birthday, you should be celebrating,” you caressed his cheek.
“I’d rather celebrate with you upstairs,” he smirked and you nodded softly. “I’ll go talk to my uncle now as he wishes to see me and you go to the bedroom and wait there for me,” he ordered and you leaned in to peck his lips. 
“Don’t take too long, I have more gifts for you,” you told him and his eyes sparkled as he nodded his head and walked away to go to his uncle.
You excused yourself using your fragile state and you left the dining room to go upstairs. Once again you were not guarded but this time you decided not to wander around the yet unexplored rooms and go straight to yours.
When you were about to reach the staircase, you heard someone else’s footsteps behind you. They weren’t as heavy as the usual steps of the Harkonnen guards or lords but they still made your heart sink in your chest. You turned around and spotted the local Bene Gesserit woman standing a few steps behind you. You wanted to sigh with relief but you were not stupid to think that her presence meant you were safe. Quite the opposite.
“What do you want?” You asked her.
“To talk,” she approached you and took her veil off. You were surprised to see that she was a regular woman like you were. You had never been able to spot that from behind the veil covering her face.
“Talk about what?” You gritted your teeth and she reached her hand out towards your womb. You hissed at her and grabbed her wrist to stop her.
“I mean no harm,” she assured you and pressed her hand to your abdomen for a while. Then she hummed to herself and took the hand away. “Impressive. Your aunt barely managed to convince the sisters to allow this union because your genes were not as strong as they wanted Feyd-Rautha’s children to have. However, I see that the Harkonnen medicine is progressing greatly,” she pointed out. “They brought the best out of you.”
“I don’t like the way you speak of me,” you snapped. “You don’t address me properly and you dare to insinuate my genes are not good enough to bear my husband’s offspring.”
Bene Gesserit smirked at you. She didn’t seem to care about your little outburst at all.
“However, it’s a boy,” she continued. “I mean, of course it is. I didn’t expect the Harkonnens to want anything else,” she added. “Your next one shall be a girl.”
“Excuse me?” You took a step back and clenched your jaw. “What I have next is my business. Mine and my husband’s, that is,” you placed your hand on your womb protectively.
“If you don’t give Feyd-Rautha a daughter, my Lady,” she emphasised ironically and you raised an eyebrow at her, “then I will.”
You nearly gasped at her insolence. Rage filled your whole body hearing her words. She threatened to lay with your husband? While she was inside your home?
“If you bewitch my husband, I will have you killed. I do not care about any of you,” you threatened her back.
“Your aunt promised us that you would be easy to control. As we both know, that is not true but we can let that slip. However, we will not give up on the promised daughter,” she explained calmly.
“Wh-what?” You stuttered out.
“Your aunt promised us that your first born daughter will be trained to become Bene Gesserit,” the woman answered and you felt a stinging pain in your chest.
Your aunt… whom you had never even met in your life. Of whom you had had no idea for most of your life. Yet she seemed to be the mastermind behind it all because of your grandfather’s sick ambitions to put his granddaughter on the Harkonnen throne. And your father… He passively had allowed that all to happen as Lady Jessica had cheered. 
“Is she here?” You barked at her. “My aunt? I want to talk to her.”
“The other sisters have left already, I’m afraid, na-baroness,” the woman told you. 
“If I have a daughter one day, I will not give her away to you witches,” you pointed your finger at her.
“There will be no need. She will stay here and I will train her,” she explained. “The Harkonnen countess would not be treated like a regular sister. Of course such powerful members have their privileges.”
“I still don’t want you near any of my children,” you told her angrily. “And I want you to stay away from Feyd.”
“You’re scared,” she smirked as she approached you, “because you know my poison is more effective than yours. I could really bind him to me in a way that is not accessible to you. You don’t hate us for witchcraft. You hate us because you’re not one of us,” she dared to whisper to you.
“I prefer holding less power but not being a blind follower of any idea nor force but myself and my own desires,” you answered proudly and straightened yourself.
You will obey me.
The loud and overwhelming voice boomed inside your head. You knew that voice very well. You had been growing up with it around.
“I will obey you,” you nodded and turned around to walk away but after a while you managed to fight this staggering sensation numbing your brain. “I will not,” you said.
“What did you say?” Bene Gesserit asked, surprised. You turned around to face her once again.
“I will not,” you repeated.
“How did you do that?” Her eyes widened.
“Growing up around Lady Jessica… You think I didn’t learn how to disobey your cursed voice?” You asked her with contempt. She didn’t have to know how much it costed you each time to be able to do that. You wanted her to think it was easy.
“That is impossible,” the woman shook her head. “You could not learn that by yourself.”
“Yet I did,” you shrugged your arms. “And no offence, but Lady Jessica was more powerful Bene Gesserit than you are.”
“Yes, she was,” she nodded. “That is why she was able to teach you this.”
“Teach me this?” You raised your eyebrow.
“Of course. Do you think you were able to master this ancient ability to fight The Voice by yourself? She had to teach you this. I only wonder why,” she hummed to herself.
Now you wondered, too. Perhaps some part of her wanted to protect you from whatever would come in the future. Perhaps some part of her cared about you.
And you hated to be grateful to her for anything but now you were.
“I might give you a daughter next,” you told the woman in front of you. “Having a powerful Bene Gesserit as my daughter can be useful,” you remembered Baron’s words. “But if you try to pit her against me or send her away to procreate with some gross lord far away from here, that is when I will intervene and you will regret this, witch,” you warned her.
She nodded.
“And if you touch my husband…”
“With all respect, I’d rather not touch him if I don’t have to, so just give us a daughter next,” she chuckled nervously.
You smiled at her. At first you were surprised hearing her words but then you remembered that most people did not see Feyd the way you were seeing him now. To them he was scary, unhinged and temperamental and his presence was deeply unsettling.
You left her in the corridor and went upstairs to your bedroom. You regretted not seeing your aunt because there were lots of things you’d love to tell her.
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Feyd joined you in the bedroom not long after. You were dressed in a nightgown already and sitting on the chair pulled away from his desk.
“What took you so long?” You asked him when the doors closed behind him.
“He gave Arrakis to me,” your husband informed you and stood above you as your eyes sparkled.
“What? He did?”
“Apparently Rabban is humiliating himself over and over there and embarrassing our family,” Feyd gritted his teeth. “I will be named the new Governor soon.”
“Well, that’s a gift I cannot possibly beat,” you teased and beckoned him over as he fell to his knees to be able to face you.
Feyd put his hands on your thighs as he opened them with his long fingers and you chuckled softly at him.
“Such an eager pet, aren’t you?” You teased him and he looked up. “That gift has to wait. Give me a knife,” you asked him.
He was confused but he handed you a short blade he was always carrying with himself.
“It’s so pretty,” you took a better look at the dagger in awe. It was really an excellent piece of work.
“Keep it,” your husband breathed out.
“But it’s your birthday, not mine,” you caressed his cheek gently.
“You need a weapon, too. I want you to keep it, just in case. When I’m not around and my uncle catches you in an empty room… For example,” he insisted.
“I don’t even know how to use it.”
“It’s a knife,” Feyd snorted. “You just stab.”
“Well, I guess. You can teach me more when I’m not with child anymore,” you proposed.
“I can,” he nodded and leaned in to place a kiss on your womb.
“So you do know how to kiss like that,” you teased and he looked caught off guard.
“I did it like you always do it… Did I do something wrong?” He asked and you swore, you could call him adorable in a way. You couldn’t believe it was the same man who had been slaughtering his enemies in the arena earlier.
“Aw, I’m only teasing. Give me your hand,” you ordered and he raised his arm as you slit one of the lines on his exposed palm. He didn’t even wince, so used to the pain much greater than this one. And he didn’t question anything you were doing either. It was almost sad, the way he obeyed you.
You watched his blood spilling down his pale skin; so dark and thick – it was nearly black and of a slimy texture. Then you cut yourself the same way, trying not to hiss out of pain as your own blood spilled, looking much healthier than his poisoned one.
You put the blade away and held his bleeding hand with yours to squeeze it tight. Feyd looked deep into your eyes, understanding the meaning of this gesture.
“I am yours and you are mine,” you told him. “Forever from now on. Your blood is my blood, my blood is your blood. We are one,” you whispered. “You do not exist without me and I do not exist without you. Together we will build our empire,” you continued and he nodded with a very serious expression on his face. There was pure admiration in his eyes, though. “We will not allow him to come between us.”
“We will kill him,” Feyd added angrily and you nodded at him. He was so eager.
“And everyone else in our way,” you assured him. “I shall be your anchor.”
“I shall be your blade,” he promised and you leaned down to join your lips together and mix your saliva like you mixed your blood.
You let go of his hand and straightened yourself, breaking the kiss. Feyd however brought your palm to his mouth and began to lick your wound as he drank the blood that spilled. Like dogs would lick their owners’ wounds.
“If I had known he’d give you Arrakis, I’d come up with a better gift,” you joked. Feyd looked up at you with your hand still pressed to his mouth, now stained with your blood.
“Nothing he’s ever given me can match you, my Baroness,” he confessed.
You smiled at him lovingly. It was a sight no one else in the world could admire – Feyd-Rautha on his knees, obedient and in awe. You finally opened your thighs in front of his face to give him what he had been waiting for since this morning. Most likely the gift he had been anticipating the most.
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MASTERLIST
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mortalityplays · 1 day
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Unprintable: Artists Against Authority
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I am absolutely beside myself with excitement to announce the launch of Unprintable.
Unprintable is an online free shop, where original artwork and arts resources are released into the public domain.
Everything listed here is free to use, copy and remix any way you like. You can print off hi-res artwork to decorate your apartment, or to use in your own projects. You can use the writing in your own zines, anthologies or performances. You can put it on a t-shirt. You can read it on the radio. You can paint it on a truck. It's up to you, entirely and forever.
The collection will be updated continuously, on an unfixed schedule, with contributions from a wide range of named and anonymous artists and activists. You can read the FAQ for a full rundown of what Unprintable is and why it exists, but these are the really important parts:
Can I download/print/use the work listed here? Yes. Can I use it for [X]? You can do whatever you want with it forever. But what if I want to [Y]? You can do whatever you want with it forever. Why do this? A few reasons: 1. We want a space to just share things, no strings attached. We recognise that copyright is an irrational system that was designed to protect the profit interests of publishing middlemen and IP hoarders. In fact, copyright is often weaponised against the creators it pretends to protect. As long as it exists, we are unlikely to win any other form of protection for our work, and we are profoundly limited from engaging in the kind of communal artistic and storytelling practices that were the norm around the world for thousands of years. 2. Radical art is often unprintable. Profit motives make people cautious. A lot of print-on-demand or local print shop services will refuse artwork with controversial, sensitive or political content. This is very frustrating when these themes are the focus of so much of our work (and indeed our lives). Rather than waste any more breath trying to explain why a trans artist might want to print the word ‘faggot’, we can give our work away for free. Got a printer? It’s yours. 3. It feels good. Sharing is joyful. It’s the reason we love making things in the first place. We don’t write poems because we look forward to filleting them for consumption, or layer colours so that we can sell a canvas by the ounce. We have only ever wanted to be able to support ourselves so that we can make, but that relationship is deeply dysfunctional under capitalism. We made these things, and we want you to have them. It doesn’t need to be complicated.
I'll write up some more posts introducing the launch collection soon. In the meantime...be free, enjoy, explore, have fun!
https://free.mortalityplays.com
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staryukis · 1 day
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✰ f!reader x roomie!gojo ✰ smut (MDNI), making out + dry-humping, satoru cums in his pants lololol (…but so do you) ++ here is some actual roomie!gojo writing based on this and this ...i wrote this with one hand btw ✰
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it always starts the same and ends the same— what started as an innocent movie night for you and your roommate ended with him pulling you into his lap for possibly the hundredth time in the last few weeks, his hands grabbing your waist firmly as you pressed yourself against his chest, making out like neither one of you had ever kissed anyone before.
satoru wouldn’t have it any other way. he hopes you don’t mind, either; though he’s sure that’s the case already, if the way you eagerly kiss him back is anything to go by.
the sound of your lips smacking against his is the only thing that resonates in your ears; the tv has long since drowned out behind you. you can feel your heartbeat steadily picking up, thrumming against your ribcage and muffling every other noise in the room that isn’t directly coming from satoru.
testing it out, your tongue swipes over his bottom lip briefly; you hear a small groan rumble in the back of his throat. just as you’d expected, the sound was as clear as day to you— it echoes in your mind and only serves to make you press yourself harder against his chest.
he hums again, hands tightening their grip around your waist, feeling his eyes roll back in his head even though they’re already closed. he’s certain that he’s died and gone to heaven, because the feelings swirling in his chest and low in his gut are so amazing it makes him feel like he’s floating— like he could walk on water and turn that very liquid into wine.
(he briefly wonders if that wine would taste as good as you do.)
there’s a moment where your lips slow, mouth parting further against him for a moment before you’re pulling back. it’s like clockwork— you both make out for a few minutes, you pull away for a breath of air, clear your throat, and then you climb off his lap. the two of you move on with the acknowledgement that the air around you is charged with something intense, and it’s part of the reason why he keeps coming back for more throughout the day.
he expected this already, so he keeps his eyes closed; savoring the feeling of your swollen lips for now, how plump they feel against his own as you pulled away from him. he can feel the string of your saliva connecting you two; he doesn’t need to open his eyes to see the way the thin liquid stretches until it bows and snaps, making his mouth feel wetter than it already was. his own lips part for a small breath of air, one hand subconsciously sliding up your back, and his eyes flutter open in mild surprise at what you do next.
he’d expected you to have climbed off his lap at this point, but when he opens his eyes he catches a glimpse of something in your own gaze before you’re leaning back in. maybe you’d been encouraged by the slide of his hand along your spine, arching into his touch and reaching out for more. he doesn’t really have the time to go over it in his head because all his thoughts are jumbled the very second he feels your lips pressing against his again.
okay, okay— this is fine, he’ll just kiss you back for a few more minutes and then you’ll probably want to pull away for real this time.
but that… doesn’t happen. he swipes his tongue over your lower lip again, and he feels his chest tighten when your lips part eagerly, accepting the slip of his tongue inside of your mouth. you both usually stop before it gets this far, this heavy, but right now he can’t bring himself to— and neither can you, apparently.
his tongue enters your mouth and swirls around yours, and you tighten your grip on his shoulders at the way the sensation shoots through your gut. it’s not long before you’re both panting loudly into the kiss, louder than ever— messily kissing each other and shoving your tongues down each other’s throats.
the air around you feels hotter, you feel hotter. satoru’s grip can’t seem to relax from the way he’s moving his hands erratically along your sides. everything is making your blood rush south and something pulses to life between your legs; and when you shift against his lap to press yourself further into him, that’s when he knows he’s too far gone— his cock immediately twitches in his pants.
he stutters, breaking the kiss briefly for a breath of air, but then you’re shifting over him again and he feels himself start to strain his pants further. he blinks, wanting to stop this before it gets too far with you, his roommate— but he’s acting on pure instinct and unbridled desire at this point. his head rolls back onto the cushion behind him, hands tightening around your waist to keep you still over his lap, chest rising and falling rapidly.
you breath fans across his neck with every pant that leaves your lips, and you blink at him for a moment. you have half a mind to climb off his lap now but there’s a dull ache low in your gut and, for some reason, you think he needs to be the one to do something about it.
“‘toru,” you mumbled, sliding a hand from his shoulder over to the side of his neck, cupping it gently. you hear the way his breath hitches, his adam’s apple bobbing over his throat as he swallows thickly before replying.
“jus— just a second, i’m—…” he stammers, swallowing again. unbeknownst to you, he’s trying to will his dick to soften up again (as if it’d been soft at all from the moment you climbed onto his lap, but that’s not the point). “i’m just catching my breath.”
you hum, somewhat uncertain. you decide not to question it, but you know there’s more to it when you try to move off him, only for him to pull you back down onto his thighs with a small grunt.
“sator—”
“wait, just—” he lifts his head up now, meeting your gaze. despite trying to relax himself he doesn’t want you to stop just yet; there’s this desperation in his eyes that only serves to make you throb harder, the urge to press your thighs together for some friction now stronger than ever. he feels your thighs clench around his own and he’s now given up entirely on trying to calm down.
your hand cupping the side of his neck slides to the back of his head, scratching your fingers along his scalp, and his breath hitches once more. your start at his undercut and move up to the longer strands of hair, and then you’re firmly gripping the back of his head and pulling him back in for another rough kiss before you can change your mind.
he groans this time, loud and unashamed, the sound rumbling from the back of his throat and slipping out past his parted lips. your hips shift over him again, moving closer to his abdomen, slotting right over his—
he freezes. you freeze. your lips slow to a stop but neither of you pull away, nor do you open your eyes. you wonder if satoru can feel you throbbing through the layers of fabric separating you two.
his eyebrows furrow for a moment, and he nips at your lower lip a little impatiently.
“do you want to sto—”
“no.”
your answer comes quick, firm and resolute. you swallow nervously for a moment, the ache between your legs only growing, and you can now feel the way his own arousal is growing steadily, too. you’re absolutely lightheaded.
he inhales sharply and then presses forward again, now pulling you ever closer above his crotch. your bodies are now completely flush together, lips moving in sync with each other, coaxing another noise to bubble up in satoru’s chest. you’re still panting and your hips jerk slightly on their own accord, a moan threatening to break past your lips at the brief friction it gave you.
satoru mumbles something against your lips, pulling back slightly so you could understand him better.
“do it,” he murmurs, his forehead leaning against yours while he gazes at you through white lashes. “if it feels good for you, then do it.”
your own lidded eyes blink at him for a moment, jaw going slack before you nodded your head. carefully, slowly, you rolled your hips forward, rubbing your mound against his growing erection, and almost immediately your eyes roll back into your head at the sheer relief you feel. he feels his own mouth drop open as he watches the way your face scrunches up in pleasure, steadily setting a rhythm over him with the encouragement of his hands on your waist.
“fuck, that’s it,” he groans, eyes threatening to close from the friction he’s finally getting on his cock. “make yourself feel good, that’s all i want… fuuuck—”
his words make you whine softly, your face heating up instantly. shyly, you duck your head forward, letting it land in the crook of his neck to hide your face from him. he laments not getting to see your lust-filled eyes anymore, but then his lips brush against the shell of your earlobe to whisper more obscenities in the form of praises while you rock your hips against him. you’re certain you’ve soaked all the way through your pants by now.
“shit,” you panted against his neck, moving faster, gripping his arms tightly when he started to aid your movements with his hands over your hips. “that— that feels so good.”
“yeah?” he breathes, nipping at your ear when you nod against him. his own head finally drops down into your neck and he inhales your scent, feeling himself grow impossibly harder. his hips start to buck up slightly, and the two of you moan in tandem.
he’s not sure when it got to this point anymore, the two of you rutting against each other so desperately, not even really making out anymore. you’re both hiding your faces in each others necks but there’s no hiding the sounds you’re both making, soft whines and moans now filling the humid air surrounding you.
satoru feels so hot and he’s never been so hard in his life; the way he’s straining his jeans is making him feel like he’s going to cum at any second. the pressure he feels low in his gut is steadily rising the more he feels and hears you against him, and he’s certain this is the fastest buildup to an orgasm that he’s had since he was a teenager.
and he can tell you’re getting close too, from the way your hips momentarily stutter over his.
“you gonna cum, angel?” he moans, not wanting you to slow the movement of your hips for a second. when you whine and nod hastily he briefly takes over, gripping your waist hard enough to leave bruises, helping your rock your hips faster over his own. the consistent friction from his clothed cock against your pulsing clit makes your mouth drop open in a silent gasp, your eyes crossing one final time as a particular buck of his hips finally pushes you over the edge.
a small squeak leaves your lips, followed by a sharp gasp as you come undone from the inside out. you gush inside of your pants, unintentionally moaning his name into his neck, and that alone is enough to send satoru tumbling over the edge with you. he cums hard, white briefly flashing over his eyes as he moans deeply into your neck, soiling his boxers with his own cum. he bites down onto your shoulder as you both ride through it, your bodies sweaty underneath your clothes and rubbing against each other with no rhythm whatsoever.
it takes a while before the two of you slow to a stop, panting heavily against each other’s shoulders. neither of you have bothered lifting your heads, too stuck in the post-nut haze that surrounded you both. satoru can feel your body starting to finally relax and go limp over his own, but he’s not sure his cock is softening fast enough in his pants for him to relax with you.
(that’s an issue for later, he thinks to himself.)
he swallows thickly, his throat feeling dry from all the sounds he made. “you, um— …you okay?” he mumbles, finally lifting his head from your shoulder, gently coaxing you to do the same.
you nodded against him, instead tightening your grip around his arms to stay in place. “yeah, just… just want a few more minutes, like this,” you mumbled, keeping your face hidden against his shoulder for reasons unknown to him.
he decided not to overthink it too much. his hands moved up to rub your back soothingly now, sighing softly as he leans his head against yours. he almost closes his eyes, oddly content with the way you feel against him like this, but that doesn’t make his cock soften any faster.
he may have to excuse himself to the bathroom after this, all with the intention of… taking care of his problem. he has enough material now to last him a full decade, he’s certain.
but for now, he’ll just keep holding you for a little longer, memorizing the way your heart beats against his chest. (he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of this.)
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shotmrmiller · 3 days
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need simon to be retired and living in the middle of nowhere with a car-fixing hobby, and you're pulling into his 'shop' because you were road-tripping across the country and now some funky noises are happening underneath the hood.
you tentatively walk towards the open garage, only to spot him under some run-down vehicle that has more rust than sun-faded paint, deflated tires, and a license plate that's also got rust gnawing at the edges, the numbers on it barely discernable.
you rap your knuckles gently on the weathered car, and the wheels of the creeper he's on squeak in protest under him as he rolls out to look at you, filthy gloves smearing the dust on his brow instead of wiping it away.
"err, hi. uh, i was pointed this way by some lovely folk that work in that diner down the way, and they said that you could take a look at my car."
he rises smoothly, even though his joints pop as he does, dark eyes squinting against the sun. he towers over you with broad shoulders and thick arms. a tough-as-teak country man.
you start when he speaks, deep voice echoing off of dusty walls. "they said tha', did they?" he lifts the hem of his grease-stained wife beater to wipe at the beads of sweat on his forehead, and your gaze involuntarily wanders to the thick trail of coarse, dark hair under his navel.
"what's wrong with it?"
if you knew that, you wouldn't be here, blatantly ogling him in some decrepit workshop located in a sleepy corner of the countryside. "i don't know. it's making some scary popping noises and figured that it needed to be looked at, asap."
your grimace is involuntary when he extends an oil-streaked gloved hand. you really hope he's not expecting you to-
"keys."
right. you wordlessly hand them over and walk a few steps behind him as he heads toward the front of your car. "did ya get it looked at before your trip?"
you want to snap at him, that obviously you did. you may not be some car wizard, however, you can do the bare minimum for it but he's your only hope for getting the hell out of here, so you press your tongue against the back of your teeth for a moment before answering.
"yes. i did prepare for it. got new tires, an oil change, and anything else it may have needed."
he hums at your answer, a low sound in the back of his throat, and curls his fingers under the hood and begins to feel for the release. your mind is in the gutter as your eyes linger on his sun-kissed skin, watching the tendons on his inked forearm ripple with each movement.
your mind is snapped back to reality when he mutters, "i hope ya don't think i'm doin' this for free."
"wouldn't dream of it. you don't seem the charitable type."
the latch yields under his fingertips, and the hood springs open. "i'd say i'm pretty charitable, considerin' i'm even helpin' ya with this."
your eyebrows furrow, corners of your lips pulling downward. "what, were you closed or something?"
he gives you a small smirk while his hand searches for the prop rod inside the engine bay. "do i look like a business, sweetheart?"
embarrassment burns your cheeks, and your mouth gapes unprettily as you turn around to truly take in the place. past the grease-smeared floors, there's rust blooming on the only workbench in the garage, a single red toolbox resting on the ground. there's a car jack tossed in a corner, a vibrant blue cooler by the door, and a few firearms on pegboard shelves. it looks like a simple garage. a personal one.
"oh my god," you stammer, "i'm so sorry, i just- the townsfolk, they led me to believe that you're a mechanic." how bloody mortifying.
he ducks his head under the hood, bending at the waist to lean over the engine, eyes swiftly scanning the machinery. "it's a hobby. i fix my own vehicles... and now yours, i reckon."
eventually, he turns the car on and listens to the engine roar to life before it begins to pop, standing over the open hood with thinned lips and furrowed brows.
he tells you that he can fix it, it'll just take a bit for the part to get here, obviously, so he recommends staying at a rented cabin in town for a few days— maybe even a week— and he'll give you a ride over.
he gets you there in no time, unsurprising because he drove the motorcycle far too fast— illegal, really. he helps you off the bike, your clammy hand in his much bigger, roughened one.
you rip off his helmet, pushing it into his barrel chest. "please never drive me around that fast again." he gives you a couple of pats to the shoulder, chuckling under his breath.
"unless you're plannin' on walkin' to get your car back, i can't promise tha'."
grrrreat.
(the issue was the serpentine belt, it was slightly frayed but the man kept you around for 2.5 weeks under the excuse of something taking too long, or the car being under worse condition. maybe he charges you a kidney for fixing it, and since you can't obviously pay that ridiculous amt of money, he tells you to go on a date with him. gross. or maybe he's a sane man and he just sends you on your way in 2 days time. idk. installs a gps in your car? keepin' tabs on ya cuz he plans on passing by wherever you live by complete coincidence.)
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wosoreading · 3 days
Text
You know I love you
(love language series- words of affirmation)
Alexia Putellas x reader
Inspired by the love language physical touch- You and Alexia go out with the team and Alexia allows herself to get drunk, making her extra affectionate with you.
Perfect. A.Bonmati. Quality time.
Silent communications. M.Leon. Physical touch.
Broken. P.Guijarro. Acts of service.
Let me spoil you. C.Coll. Giving/receiving gifts.
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Masterlist
“Ale, will you pass me my lip gloss?” you both were standing in front of your vanity, getting ready for a night out with the team. You had just won a big game with Barcelona so of course everyone was going out to celebrate. 
“Only if I get a kiss first,” Alexia gave you a teasing smile as she passed it over to you. You never turned down a chance to kiss your girlfriend, especially with how excited you were to go out with her tonight. Even though she was known for never drinking during the season, she had promised that she’d loosen up and have fun tonight which had you reeling in anticipation. 
You smiled up at her as you chased her lips again, eager for the night ahead of you. It’d been awhile since the team had gone out because of how busy your match schedule had been. Of course it had been even longer since Alexia had actually participated in these nights out so it really made tonight feel special. 
Normally neither of you took very long to get ready, just adding some light makeup and changing clothes. But because tonight felt so special, you both wanted to make the most of it. Each of you had finished off a couple glasses of wine while you took your time doing your hair and makeup. Alexia had put on some music while the two of you danced around your bathroom, constantly being distracted by each other. 
“Amor, hair up or down?” you stopped what you were doing and stepped back from the mirror to help answer your girlfriend’s question. 
Your head tilted as you tried to help her decide, “hmmm, I can’t pick, you’ll look perfect either way so just do whichever will be more comfortable.” She pouted at your lack of help as you leaned up to peck her lips again. “I don’t know why you always ask, we both know I can never decide, Ale.”
Alexia tried her best to hide her growing smile, unable to continue her pout when you were there to give her kisses. “Cause I value your opinion and you have good ideas,” she shrugged at you like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 
“Maybe hair up. It’ll probably be hot so then it’s out of your way?” you tried to offer her some sort of guidance even if it wasn’t a lot. 
“See I knew you would know. You always do,” The blonde pulled you in for yet another kiss before pulling her hair back into a neat low ponytail. 
Everyone always said Alexia was quiet and stoic. In a way, maybe she was, but you rarely saw that side of her. Socially awkward, sure. But not usually stoic. When she was with you she was rarely quiet. That was her time to let it all out, to not hold back. You were never going to judge her so she felt safe being her full self around you. She was somewhat chatty with her friends but with you she literally never stopped talking. Sometimes it surprised people but you were used to it. You loved it. Alexia was always making sure that you knew how much she loved you, constantly showering you with compliments. 
It wasn’t long before your girlfriend let you know that your Uber would be at your house in the next ten minutes. Alexia left the room to finish getting ready while you put the finishing touches on your makeup. 
When you greeted her by the front door, you were blown away by how good she looked. She had on a short-sleeved black button down that clearly had nothing underneath it. It had just enough buttons undone to drive you insane, and you wouldn’t be surprised if a few more opened as the night went on. Your jaw was hanging open as you stared at her, lost in her beauty.
 Because of your own distraction, you had no idea Alexia was looking the exact same way at you. “Amor. You are so…” she struggled to find the word she wanted to describe you, “perfect. More than perfect.” You snapped out of your daze as she pulled you into her by your hips. All you could do was kiss her hard. “I cannot believe how beautiful you are,” she mumbled against your lips as she returned the gesture. “I am so in love with you, you don’t even know.” This wasn’t unusual for her- trying her best to talk to you and kiss you at the same time. Sometimes it was the only way she knew to express all her feelings for you. 
Your hands reached for the back of her neck, pulling her closer, being careful not to mess up her hair. “Just kiss me, Ale,” you practically moaned into her mouth. All of the sudden you were interrupted by her phone buzzing aggressively. You both groaned loudly as you reluctantly separated for her to see what the notification was. 
“Uber’s here amor.” your foreheads were pressed together as you both tried to catch your breath. She separated herself further before leaving one last kiss softly on your lips. “We continue this later, vale?” All you could do was nod your head desperately as Alexia grabbed your purse for you and led you out the door. 
Once you were both in the car, Alexia’s hand immediately found its way to your thigh. Your mind was running wild with anticipation for the night ahead of you. The night was going to be perfect. The team was finally going to have the time to let loose together and have fun. They really were your best friends, your family. Obviously afterwards with Alexia was going to be equally as fun, but you were still excited for the time with all your friends before that
You looked over to your girlfriend, only to see her staring at you with intensity in her eyes. Her look made you blush, just as it always did. The look on her face made you giggle, “Why are you staring at me, Ale?” You asked her teasingly, mocking the way her jaw had gone slack. 
Alexia wasn’t phased by your teasing, not even hesitating with her response, “Because you’re beautiful.” She smiled at you and offered you a shrug, once again acting like it was the most obvious answer in the world. “And cause it’s cute when you blush.” The smile on her face had transformed into more of a smirk. You just shook your head at her. You should probably be used to her compliments at this point but it made you blush just as much as when you first met. 
~
It wasn’t long until you arrived at the club and Alexia was leading you in, holding your hand tightly. Instantly, Mapi was yelling over at the two of you, “This round’s on you, Capitana! (Y/N) get over here and come see me!” Mapi’s words were already slurring as you broke apart from your girlfriend and joined the rest of the team. 
The second you reached them, Pina threw an arm around your shoulders and passed you a drink, ready for you to join the party. “I hear Capi’s drinking tonight, si?” The smirk was clear in her voice, excited to see her mentor let loose for once. You nodded and gave her a smirk in return, equally as excited as she was.
 It’s not that you minded when she stayed sober, she was still plenty of fun. It was admirable to everyone the amount of self control had. Your girlfriend always encouraged you to drink what you wanted and she would take care of you. She would always drive everyone home and make sure everyone ended the night safely, especially you. You usually didn’t get too crazy but Alexia would still always make sure that you stayed hydrated and made it home in one piece. 
“Hey Claudia, can I have my girlfriend back?” You giggled as Alexia pulled you into her side, watching as the younger girl raised her hands in self defense. Now that everyone had arrived, you all started your night with a few rounds of shots. 
At some point, you had ended up on your girlfriend’s lap as you talked with some of your team. Alexia's hand was snaked around your waist, holding you against her tight. At times she’d settle her chin on your shoulder or place a kiss to it, whispering more compliments in your ear. 
“Ale, I hear you’re having fun tonight, how many drinks in are you?” Mapi basically shouted as she tried to talk to your girlfriend who offered no response. “Ale?” still nothing. “Alexia!” 
You turned your head over your shoulder to see Alexia finally snap out of whatever daze she had been in. “Que?” For once, she seemed to have no idea what was going on which made you and the rest of the table laugh. 
“Quit staring at your girl! You’re forgetting about the rest of us!” Mapi looked at her with exasperation, basically whining. “You never get drunk with us so when you finally do you’re not allowed to ignore us. Come on, we’re dancing!” Mapi stood up quickly and the rest of the table seemed to be in agreement as everyone dispersed. In the process, someone had pushed another drink into your girlfriend's hand, hoping to see her really let loose tonight.
You looked at Alexia, prepared to try to convince her to join the others. Surprisingly, she spoke before you could, “well, let’s go dance, amor.” 
Your eyes went wide as you did nothing to hide the shock from your face, “really?” 
“I like looking at you, especially when you’re dancing. And I know you like it, so I want to have fun with you.” Your heart melted hearing her words. She would do anything for you and she was constantly showing you that. 
Alexia gave your hips a gentle squeeze as she helped push you up so you could pull her to the dance floor. Some of your friends let out a cheer at the rare sight of their oh-so-professional captain joining in on the run. You were facing her as you both swayed your hips to the music, taking in the moment. You felt all your worries and responsibilities melt away as you got lost in the music pulsing through you. 
The blonde’s hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as the two of you continued to move against each other. “Dios mio, you look amazing,” she all but groaned in your ear as she continued to stare at you. Her words had slurred slightly, finally noticing the effects of the alcohol setting in. Because of how rarely she drank, it seemed that it didn’t take much for her to get drunk as she practically whined at you, “amor, let’s go get another drink.” Alexia was tugging at your arm, already starting to pull you towards the bar. 
“How about some water first and then another drink,” you tried your best to bargain with her, not trying to get her too trashed. Your girlfriend nodded at you eagerly, before continuing to pull you to the bar. You caught up with her and wrapped an arm around her waist when she stumbled slightly. You decided that you weren’t going to be doing any more drinking yourself, instead focusing on taking care of Alexia. She had done it a million times for you so it was only fair that you took a turn. 
When the two of you reached the bar, the Catalan pulled you into her, holding you against her in a makeshift hug. “Estas Bien, Ale?” If you were being the responsible one for the night, it seemed important to check in, especially when she was being clingier than normal. She typically didn’t show you this level of affection when the team was around, trying to keep it professional.
Alexia hummed, satisfied with the night so far. “I’m so proud of you. You know that right?” Once again, your girlfriend was always giving you praise, no matter what the circumstances were. 
“Of course I do, I-” The two of you were interrupted by the bartender passing you your drinks (including Alexia’s water). You guided her back over to your table, hoping to give her a bit of a break before she continued. 
“I just hope you know how proud of you I am. You’re the reason we won today, amor.” She looked deeply into your eyes, willing you to believe her words. “You just work so hard and I’m so glad you signed with us. You’ve been playing better than I’ve ever seen you play before and it’s all because of the hard work you’ve put in. You impress me so much, amor.” It almost looked like she was going to start crying with the way she looked at you. So serious but also opening up further thanks to the alcohol. 
“Ale, I couldn’t have done any of it without your help. You’re the one that’s been pushing me and making me better.” She responded with a shake of the head before drinking some of the water you passed to her. She downed the glass quickly, before facing you again. 
Her forehead pressed against yours as she continued her praise, “You know I love you, right? I love your voice and I love how you listen to me and let me talk and I love how you take care of me and how you focus on the things that you love and I really just love you, okay? I love everything about you. So much.” Her rambling left her slightly out of breath as she leaned into you further. 
“Alexia Putellas I love you so so much,” you barely had words for all you were feeling. There weren’t words to express how much you loved the woman in front of you. How much you appreciated and admired her. “Do you think we should get you home, Ale? Hesitancy was clear in your voice. It’s not like she was wasted or anything but by her standards, she wasn’t far off. Being the one in charge of taking care of her, you were sure to take your job seriously just as your girlfriend always did for you. 
“Noooooo,” Alexia suddenly sat up much straighter, trying to keep herself from swaying. “Can we dance a while longer? Por favor? Then we can go home after that.” Her pleas instantly convinced you as you smiled at her and placed a short kiss to her nose. 
Your girlfriend giggled at your kiss which only triggered you to pepper a series of short kisses all over her face. She continued to giggle at you similarly to how a baby would respond to being tickled. As she often did, Alexia playfully pushed your face to the side, calming herself down slightly. “Amor, come dance,” she whined at you while pulling at your arm. Her unusually child-like behavior earned a chuckle from you as you stood up and followed her back to the dance floor. 
Alexia stumbled and swayed a bit more as she made her way back to where some of the team still resided. You held onto her tightly, keeping her safe while still letting her have a bit more fun. 
“Ale’s drunk!!!” Pina shouted as she jumped around you. Upon hearing this, cheers immediately erupted from the group. Alexia smacked Pina in the back of the head before also joining in the cheering. At that, the entire group erupted, everyone jumping and grinding against whoever was closest. Seeing your girlfriend finally let herself go filled everyone with joy. The whole group loved it but it was different for you. You had seen her at her lowest of lows. You knew how much she deserved this. How much she needed to relax like this. Especially when normally she was the one making sure everyone else was taken care of, it was nice that she finally got a turn. 
This newfound surge of energy was entertaining for everyone. At one point, you found her trying to twerk against you which you made no effort to stop. Grabbing her hips from behind, you only encouraged her as some of the others cheered her on. You’d stop her if she did anything too embarrassing but you’d let it slide for now. It wasn’t like she hadn’t already seen the rest of you embarrass yourselves. It only seemed fair. 
Mapi joined Alexia with two more drinks, one for each of them. You quickly decided that it’d be your girlfriend’s final drink of the night as you watched them have a contest to see who could chug faster. When Alexia won she immediately cheered for herself before giving Mapi a playful shove. Her best friend was clearly just as drunk as she was when she stumbled directly into Ingrid, barely able to hold herself up. Your girlfriend wasn’t doing much better, also tripping as she tried to celebrate her “win” with you. 
Ingrid shared a look with you as you both held up your extremely inebriated girlfriends, deciding it was time to get them home before they could do anything else. You put in for an Uber as you started trying to get your girlfriend ready to go. You wrapped your arm around Alexia’s waist, trying to steady her as best you could. She was slightly taller than you and quite a bit stronger which made holding her more difficult than you expected. Normally she was the one carrying you out of the club after a long night. 
“Here I got her,” Patri appeared out of nowhere, coming to your rescue. Sure she was drunk but nothing like your girlfriend. Between the two of you, you managed to get her outside just as your Uber was arriving. Alexia’s head came to lie on your shoulder, all but putting her entire weight against you despite Patri being significantly stronger than you. Of course Patri had to take a minute to laugh at you struggling to carry your girlfriend before finally helping you and getting your girlfriend settled into the backseat next to you. You gave her a quick thanks before the car started back towards your shared home. 
You didn’t even realize that your girlfriend was still awake until she lifted her head from your shoulder slightly, “I love you so much, amor.” Her words were barely recognizable between how heavily her words slurred together along with how her accent had thickened. You gave her a soft smile though, touched by the sentiment as well as how she still made sure to use your native language, no matter how drunk she was. “I don’t feel like I tell you that enough.”
“Ale, you definitely tell me enough, I promise.” You smiled at the thought- she was quite literally always telling you how much she loved you. Like nonstop. Constantly. 
Alexia’s head shook slightly before landing back on your shoulder. “I should tell you that more. You know if there was ever anyone who was made for me, it’d be you for sure.” Her words turned somewhat incoherent by the end of her sentence before her eyes fluttered shut. You pressed a long kiss to the top of her head. You knew you’d be in for a rough morning with her tomorrow but for now all you could do was revel in her words. It didn’t matter if she was drunk or sober or in front of her friends- Alexia would never stop confessing her love for you and you would never stop appreciating that.
Perfect. A.Bonmati. Quality time.
Silent communications. M.Leon. Physical touch.
Broken. P.Guijarro. Acts of service.
Let me spoil you. C.Coll. Giving/receiving gifts.
Masterlist
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fairyhaos · 2 days
Text
❖ no such thing as too perfect // jeon wonwoo
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wonwoo x gn!reader, 2k+ words
tags: office au, established relationship, fluff, kinda crack, junhui is the best work bestieTM ever, yn is Dramatic and In Love
warnings: none
notes: this was only meant to be like, 1.2k.... idk what happened but im not apologising. also there are a couple of pov switches which i hope make sense!!
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“I think I need to break up with him,” you say, and Junhui blinks around a mouthful of salad. 
“Who?” he asks, spraying pieces of feta cheese all over the table, and you wrinkle your nose and brush away a few bits that get too close to you and your bento box. He frowns, and then his eyes widen. “Oh my god, you need to break up with Jeon Wonwoo? Why do you need to break up with Jeon Wonwoo?”
You wince as Junhui's loud exclamation rings throughout the office canteen, making several heads turn to look at the two of you. 
“Don't yell it so loud—and why are you saying his name in italics?”
“Because this is Jeon Wonwoo,” Junhui emphasises again, shoving salad passionately into his mouth before carrying on talking. “He's the only one of your boyfriends that I've actually ever approved of. Which is crazy, because Soonyoung introduced him to you, and I've never pinned Soonyoung as a guy that knows boyfriend-material guys.”
You reach over and lower Junhui’s fork, preventing him from eating and talking at the same time. “I don't know,” you sigh. “I just… I don't think this is going to work.”
“What did he do?” Junhui asks. His face morphs into a more serious look. “Do I need to murder him for you?”
“No, I— no! Don't murder him!” you say quickly, shaking your head. “He hasn't done anything wrong. It's just. I think I need to break up with him.”
The grave look melts from Junhui's face, and then he frowns. “You need to break up with him… even though he hasn't done anything wrong?”
“Yes.”
Junhui stares at you, mystified, then snatches back his fork to keep eating his salad. “Okay, so you've gone insane. Nice to know.”
You sigh at Junhui's response, rubbing your temples. 
Whilst it does sound insane for you to break up with Wonwoo even though he's done nothing wrong, in your eyes, it's actually quite understandable. 
Nothing has gone wrong, per se: you've been dating Wonwoo for about ten months now, and everything has been perfect. He's been perfect. 
Maybe… a little too perfect. 
He's always being so gentle and courteous, silently reading your emotions and knowing exactly how you're feeling at any given moment. He knows what you need before you even know that you need it—giving you little cheek kisses to remind you that you're loved, pushing a chocolate bar into your hand when you're all dizzy and tired, hugging you to sleep when you've had a bad day. 
The bento box that you're opening and having for lunch? That was prepared by him too. 
Jeon Wonwoo is just so goddamn perfect, and it worries you. 
“I don't think I'm good enough for him,” you admit whilst Junhui is busily sipping his water. 
It's fascinating how he manages to eat so frantically whilst eating so slowly at the same time, you think idly, as Junhui chokes on the tiny sip he was taking. He sets down the glass, wiping his mouth and blinking at you. 
“Sorry, what?”
“Come on, Junhui, do I really have to say it again?” you complain, beginning to open your bento box. “You heard me.”
“Yeah, and I couldn't believe my ears,” he says, tilting his head sideways. “You? Not good enough for him? Please. That's crazy.”
You make a questioning noise. “You just said that he's the only boyfriend of mine that you approved of.”
“Exactly.” Junhui stabbed his fork in your direction, before going back to shovelling leaves into his mouth. “You're perfect for him, and he's perfect for you. I predicted it from the moment you met.”
“I don't know about me being perfect for him, but he really is just too perfect for me,” you whine. “Him and his stupidly warm eyes and that smile… oh, Junhui, he makes me feel like the most beautiful person in this entire universe.” You look down at your bento box, pouting. “Wonwoo's just so perfect.”
Junhui makes a face. “Gross, but okay. I still don't see your point, though. Wonwoo's perfect, and you're both good enough for each other. I don't see why you think you need to break up with him.”
Still looking down at the bento box, you let out a sigh. All of the food is neatly packed away into the separate compartments, and he's even arranged the sesame seeds on your rice into a little heart. It's an awfully goofy but also an awfully Wonwoo thing to do, and you can feel your heart squeezing painfully in your chest, the longer you stare at it. 
This is not good. You are far too in love with Wonwoo. 
That's what you tell Junhui, and he stares at you with utter disbelief as if you've finally admitted that you really have lost your mind. 
“And what makes you think that he's not far too in love with you?” Junhui asks. “You know, one of the reasons that I approve of Wonwoo is because he's just so so in love with you. Like, almost disgustingly in love with you.”
“What?” You blink at him, before shaking your head. “Junhui, no, this is serious. Wonwoo's just so perfect and I'm so in love with him and—and it's actually getting dangerous now. I've literally fallen in love with him.”
Junhui stares at you for a long moment, wondering whether you're actually being serious about all of this. 
“That's not a bad thing,” he insists, and then chomps on his salad in frustration. “Y/N, that's not a bad thing at all.”
“Yes it is,” you say, despairingly, looking forlorn as you prop your chin on your hand. “I love him too much. It's gonna—it's gonna get too overwhelming, soon, and then he'll start thinking I'm weird, and he'll distance himself from me, and then we'll break up and I should end this before that happens.”
Junhui shakes his head. “I don't think that's true.”
“Yes it is.”
“No it isn't. He won't break up with you.”
“Not yet.”
Junhui looks away exasperatedly, because you're adamant in wallowing in your despair over having to break up with Wonwoo because “he's too perfect” even while quite happily eating the lunch that Junhui knows Wonwoo probably prepared for you. 
It's insane, he thinks, because it's obvious to him that Wonwoo loves you a lot. But he knows you and your negative thinking, and short of Wonwoo walking in here and professing his love to you all by himself, Junhui can't think of anything that could possibly convince you otherwise. 
As he looks past your shoulder to the glass doors of the office canteen, however, he blinks. 
There's a tall man entering the canteen, his dark hair all fluffy and his glasses-rimmed eyes scanning the area, lips pursed into a look that could almost be described as bored. He has his hands in his coat pockets, wearing the most simple casual fit ever, but he exudes such cold model energy that even Junhui blinks again. 
And then he watches as the man catches sight of you and Junhui, and his entire demeanour just softens. 
Junhui bites back a grin. 
Wow. Maybe he’s, like, actually psychic. 
“Wonwoo's here,” he says abruptly, and your head snaps up so fast that he can hear the audible click that sounds in your neck. 
“Where?” 
Junhui doesn't get to say anything, however, because he sees the moment that your eyes clock the tall man that's striding into the canteen, the light catching the frames of his glasses, and watches as you positively melt, in much the same way that the man had done when he saw you. 
He can almost hear every infatuated thought that runs through your mind. 
“Wonwoo,” you breathe, once Wonwoo steps close enough to the table that you and Junhui are eating at. His hair is all fluffy and windswept, and you resist the urge to smooth it down with your fingers. 
“Hello.” Wonwoo bends down, presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “You weren't answering your phone.”
“Hm? I didn't get any text notifs from you.” You check your phone, trying to turn it on, only for the screen to remain black. “Oh. Is it dead?”
“I suspected as much,” Wonwoo says dryly, but there's a fondness in his voice as he pulls out a power bank from his pocket. “Here.”
Your eyes light up. “Oh, you're a life saver!” You look up at Wonwoo, smiling at the way his eyes look so warm as he gazes down at you. “Thank you.”
Junhui slurps his water loudly. 
“Sorry,” he says, sounding not sorry at all when the two of you look over at him. “Don't mind me.”
He's grinning mischievously, for reasons that you cannot fathom, and when he leans forward to peer up at Wonwoo with curious eyes, the mischief in his grin only increases. 
“So, Wonwoo, why are you here?”
Wonwoo tilts his head, pushing his glasses up at the same time. “You're Junhui.”
“The one and only,” Junhui says brightly. “I'm Y/N's work bestie. I've heard loads about you.”
You hiss in annoyance, kicking Junhui under the table even as Wonwoo laughs amusedly, placing a hand on your shoulder affectionately. 
“Wen Junhui! Why would you say that?”
“Do you talk about me that often?” Wonwoo asks, and his tone is somewhere between genuinely curious and adoring and you kind of just wanna sit there and listen to his voice forever. 
“Oh, all the time,” Junhui says, eyes gleaming, and you snap your gaze back to him, exasperated. “Y/N loves you so much. I hear about the extent of it every day.”
Wonwoo looks down at you, raising an eyebrow. “Really?”
You kind of want to deny it, but then that would mean lying to Wonwoo, so you don't. 
“Maybe?” you say weakly, cheeks burning as you smile sheepishly up at him. “You're just, uh. Really really lovely. And, um, I kind of love you. A lot.”
Wonwoo laughs, a full and endeared laugh, twinkling with the light of a thousand suns. “I'm glad. Because you're really lovely, and I love you a lot too.”
Your eyes widen, and suddenly it's like it's just you and Wonwoo in the canteen now, him with his hand on your shoulder and those eyes, holding your very soul in place as he just smiles so lovingly and oh God you really do love him. 
“Oh,” you say, soft. “Wonwoo…”
Wonwoo just smiles again. “Anyways, I came by to let you know that I'll be finishing work a bit earlier today, so call me when you're done and I'll drive by to pick you up, okay?”
You nod, mute, stunned by the gentlest words of “I love you” that had left Wonwoo's mouth just seconds before. 
“It was nice meeting you,” Junhui chirps, but Wonwoo doesn't seem to hear, because he's looking down at you again, before swooping in and placing the lightest kiss on your nose and you feel like you could combust on the spot right there. 
“I'll see you later?” he says. 
You nod. “I'll see you later.”
Wonwoo smiles, and then the hand slides off your shoulder and he walks away. 
You watch him go, watch him walk through the tables and then get to the glass doors, where he turns around one last time to wave goodbye before disappearing outside, and really, it's insane how much you love him. 
And how much he loves you, it seems. 
“So. He took time out of his own lunch break and came all the way here to give you a charger because he knew that you'd forgotten one and to tell you that he's picking you up later?” Junhui says, making you reluctantly turn back to him. “Y/N. If this doesn’t make you see just how in love with you Wonwoo is, then I’m gonna kick you.”
“Hey, no need for violence,” you say, raising an eyebrow, and Junhui pulls a face. 
“So do you see it or do you not?”
You look over your shoulder again, out at the doors. Wonwoo’s no longer there, but you can still imagine the imprint of his warmth, lingering like the softest lavender scent over the entire area. 
“Maybe I do,” you say, all wistful and dazed, a smile on your face. “Isn’t he just so perfect?”
Junhui grins, and makes use of your distracted state to steal a carrot stick from your lunch, crunching on it loudly.
“Perfect and in love with you,” he points out. “So do you still feel like you need to break up with him?”
“Hm?”
You blink, eyes still all starry from your few minutes of interacting with your boyfriend, his soft smile etched into your mind. It takes a moment for Junhui's words to register, but then they do, and you can't help but laugh. 
“Oh. Oh, no. He and I are perfect.”
Junhui grins. He really is a psychic. 
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fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @thedensworld @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @sakufilms @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @amxlia-stars @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect
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snootlestheangel · 1 day
Text
Post-MW3 but Laswell had only faked Soap's death, all under the guise of it being the better thing to do.
Let Makarov believe he had actually killed one of the 141. He'd walk away from that thinking he had a small victory and wouldn't feel pressured to make his next move soon. Laswell wanted him to go into hiding, wanted the team to take the time to figure some things out.
She obviously hadn't anticipated the loose cannon of Captain Price, and him killing Shepherd threw a wrench in everything.
A few months have gone by, and Laswell gets a hit on some activity from Konni group. She tells the team they'll meet her informant there.
Obviously, there's a bit of a big blowout when they realize John 'Soap' MacTavish is the informant. Ghost takes it the worst of all of them, but he doesn't outwardly react. Not in front of Soap. But when they're alone with Laswell to ask her "what the fuck?" Ghost lets it all out.
He's cussing up a storm, saying it was all bullshit, that they should have been in on it.
"Who in this room knows what it's like to be dead better than anyone else? Bloody hell where the fuck do you think "Ghost" comes from?"
And Ghost doesn't ever talk directly to Soap or Laswell the rest of the time they're working on their latest Intel. It's upsetting to everyone, especially Gaz cause he isn't quite sure what the fuck has happened to his team. But Soap seems to be handling Ghost's cold shoulder pretty well, so Gaz keeps his distress to himself.
Finally, Ghost gets a moment alone with Soap. And Soap starts to leave, starts to give Ghost privacy because that's what Soap thinks he needs: some time and space to figure it all out in his head.
But Ghost stops him.
And the mask comes off, and Ghost slips away to reveal Simon. Simon who looks so small despite still standing over Soap.
And Soap is sorry, he's so sorry, Simon.
And he's begging for forgiveness and Simon has yet to say a word. So Soap falls quiet, lets the silence eat away at him as Simon stands there, jaw working as he thinks of something to say.
"I had lost you, Johnny."
It's such a quiet whisper, and it's so broken and it just stabs Soap through the heart. But he doesn't say anything back.
Instead he reaches for his Simon, reaches up to try and hold his head in his hands once again.
And Simon leans into the touch, allows himself a moment of softness during all this war. Allows this tender moment as he lets Soap hold him gently.
And it doesn't last long, doesn't need to. They're back with each other, in each other's hands, safe and breathing. That's all Ghost, all Simon, had ever begged for.
"The next time you die, I'm fucking going with you, you understand?"
"Of course, LT. You and me, aye?"
"Always."
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meiieiri · 2 days
Text
𝐢’𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 [toji fushiguro]
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synopsis: in which toji hears the words “happy birthday” for the first time.
pairing: toji fushiguro x reader | song inspo: cliché | visuals: keychain | hidden inventory: the lost tapes series masterlist
warnings: brief mentions of physical and emotional abuse (toji’s painful past, really, i just wanna give him a big hug). inspired by the works of @/ddub1618 on twt!
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He could get in trouble for this, now, normally, he doesn’t sneak out of training but Toji’s curiosity got the better of him this time. Being one of the taller kids, he stays close to the ground so his hair doesn’t stick up from the bushes. He holds his wooden katana close, peeking when he hears delighted laughter coming from the engawa of the estate, a sound that’s a little rare here in the Zenin estate.
“Happy birthday!”
Toji’s breath hitches in his throat when he hears the happy giggles of one of his younger cousins, and he stealthily sneaks over to a tree that’s just a few feet from one of the estate’s buildings, hiding behind the trunk, peeking from time to time to see what’s going on. He watches with a glittery look in his eyes when his aunt presents his third or fourth cousin, Toji doesn’t really know at this point, with a gift box, happily urging the little one to open it.
A thousand thoughts were running through his head as he inquisitively watched the toddler open their presents and have some of the sweet colorful mochi his parents must have requested from the estate kitchens for this special day. The sweet smell of osekihan lingered in the air, and Toji’s stomach growls at the decadent aroma of the slow-cooked red bean rice. He doesn’t get to have sweets often, so he is left wondering if his parents would allow such a thing for him on his own birthday.
“Toji, what are you doing here?”
Toji stiffens at the sound of his older brother’s voice. “Shh, I’m trying to watch.” He says, pressing an index finger to his lips, making a shushing sound. “Look there.”
Jinichi momentarily places his hands over his hips, indulging his younger brother. “It’s just a birthday. What’s so special about it?”
The younger Zenin huffs at the arid response. “I’ve never had one of those before.”
Toji looks down at the broken fingernails on his hands, worn out from the grueling training regimen today, he imagines what it would be like to hold a present and not sharp edged rocks for once. He can only imagine the excitement he’d feel as he slowly pulls the green gift wrapper off the box, being extra careful with it because it looked too pretty and expensive to haphazardly tear apart. As for the tooth-rotting mochi he’ll be receiving, he’ll do his best to only eat tiny pieces of it at a time, making sure to leave some of the sweet treat for later because who knows when he’ll ever get to eat such a luxury again?
“Say, why don’t I get a birthday? It’s always just you getting one every year.”
Jinichi rolls his eyes. “Everyone has a birthday, dimwit. But not everyone celebrates their birthday.” Toji scowls in displeasure at that, his bottom lip curling up in a pout. At his brother’s petulant silence, Jinichi taps out of the conversation, turning on his heel to go back to the training grounds. “I’m heading back, I’m not about to catch another beating because I went to go look for you.”
“Go do whatever you want. I’m staying.”
And with that, Toji turns his attention back to the joyous occasion, looking longingly as the little birthday celebrant receives a loving peck on the cheek from his mother. He doesn’t even notice the familiar ache in his heart that accompanied how his fingers touched his cheek longing for the day his own mother does that for him.
In a perfect world, all children are wanted; they’d have warm beds to snuggle in at night in place of a rundown storehouse’s cold hardwood floor, their cheeks would be showered with kisses and not harsh slaps, they’d be lulled to sleep by warm lullabies and not the sound of their parents arguing why their child turned out this way like they’re some factory defect, they’d be given toys and not weapons that they need to master.
In a perfect world, Toji would have spent his sixth birthday with a plate of nerikiri in front of him and not some random rocks he found in the garden and lined up in a neat row to make it resemble the white bean dessert. He’d be surrounded by the people he so painfully loves and not the sympathetic ants that crawled on the grass in a tucked away corner of the Zenin estate’s compound on the day he was born into this world.
In a perfect world, Toji wouldn’t have to sing himself a ‘happy birthday’ because no one else ever cared to do it for him.
“Happy birthday, Toji…”
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“Toji!”
He must have been zoning out. You told him to meet you outside Shinjuku station today for your date and he doesn’t really know how long he’s been sitting in the waiting area, but it must have been long enough for his mind to wander to the agonizing recollections of his childhood. Toji looks up to see you hurrying to tap your train card on the turnstile with a tired smile that’s pretty hard to miss.
Toji stands up to meet you halfway and you giggle, launching yourself in his arms. Toji loves it when you do that, it shows how you trust him completely that in any and every given second, he’ll always catch you. Burying his face in your hair, he inhales the floral smell of your shampoo, the haze in his mind dissipating ever so slightly.
He frowns when you’re the first to pull away and he opens his mouth to whine about it, but he instantly drops it when he sees you holding up a little gift-wrapped box in front of him. Toji blinks. “This for me?” He almost couldn’t believe it. “You actually remembered?”
You’ve been casually pretending this entire week that you didn’t know what was coming up because you’ve been trying to keep your little surprise low-key until today. Nodding, you kiss the scar on his lips.
“Of course I did! That’s why I was late, I was looking for some…uh…well, never mind! Just open it!” You tap your toe against the floor shyly as his fingers nimbly and painstakingly unwrap the present.
As if he had stepped into a time machine, Toji pictures himself back in the Zenin estate, his knees pulled to his chest as he celebrates his birthday alone, a solitary tear streaming down his face. Except something’s different like the time-space continuum hit a snag or something. The difference being a miniature version of you, smiling adoringly at him, as you plop down next to him on the dirt ground, not caring if your little dress got soiled. In his hands, in this version of events gone by, is a half-opened present wrapped in a beautiful blue gift paper.
Oh, how it would have been nice had that been the case all those years ago when your gentle hands would cup both his cheeks, your thumbs gently rubbing his bruised cheeks. How you would have brightened his days with your warm sunshine.
After what seems like an eternity of gazing into your orbs, seeing his modified past play like a montage from the light reflecting off your eyes, Toji opens the gift and he picks up a crocheted keychain, his index finger flicking the metal hook.
“A frog.”
You chortle as he points out the obvious. “It was the easiest thing to crochet,” you said defensively. “I was late today because I was looking for these,” you point to the black beads serving as the little frog’s cute eyes.
“There’s a…” Toji trails off, his voice wavering. You know what he’s talking about, so you take his bigger hand in your delicate ones. The two of you gazing at your little masterpiece.
“Sorry, I kinda ripped it when I pulled the yarn a little too hard. Guess I was getting sleepy.” You rubbed the back of your head sheepishly. “Then, I kinda ran out of green yarn to fix it, so, I had to improvise. I’m sorry if it seems a little offensive—“
Toji cuts you off with an abrupt kiss, not caring if the two of you were attracting a crowd of commuters as the two of you kiss in the middle of a crowded train station. “It’s not half-bad, squirt. Don’t worry.” He ruffles your hair, eagerly suppressing his smile as he looks at the frog keychain that’s meant to resemble him with the tiny pink scar you knit on the corner of the frog’s smiley lips.
Your heart practically leaps out of your chest and you nudge him gently as he continues to stare at the keychain. “Don’t lose it now.”
“You kidding? I’m putting this in a damn safe.”
The two of you share a laugh at that, your fingers interlacing with one another as your lips brush against each other once more.
“Happy birthday, Toji.”
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bandgie · 2 days
Text
Free Use - Hyung Line
warnings: MDNI 18+, fem!reader, !!free-use is legal and public!!, public sex (duhhh), dry humping, gangbangs (implied), pussy easting, sex photography, reader is called slut
notes: longer version of this ask! to be clear, this is a free-use society so if you're not comfortable with that, don't read it pls! thanks :)
BANGCHAN! - even if it's completely legal to fuck you in public, chan can't bring himself to. your moans, whimpers, cries... those are for his ears (and maybe a few close friends) but that doesn't mean he won't do a few things - main one is arguably dry humping. standing behind you while waiting in a line for some boba and his hands settle on your hips. it's cute at first, but his grip tightens. you'll arch your back further into him because you know what he wants, you can feel it. - he grinds his hips softly on your ass. guiding his cock over your body before sliding it out to put it between your thighs. He breathlessly moans in your ear, one hand moving to grope your chest over your shirt. if he gets really into it, chan will push your head down once you make it to the counter and rut into you like he's actually fucking you and still order. - another that's more intense is when he's working in the studio. he's got you pretty and nice on his lap. Changbin and Han are so used to you riding his thigh that they hardly notice your moans anymore. - no shorts, no underwear. just your bare pussy on his leg while you hump him desperately. in a way, this is more degrading since people will come in and out of the studio, asking for adjustments and adding things to the schedule acting like they can't see you rocking your hips on his flexed thigh. but it still doesn't stop you from quietly pleading for his friends to have a turn too.
"I dunno, babe. I've got a lot of work. Why don't you keep doing this and if you're a good girl, I'll think about it."
MINHO! - total opposite of chan, he is 100% fucking you in public. everyone needs to see how much a slut you are, how much you love being fucked no matter the time of day. just cuz he's a little shit, minho will purposely fuck you in places you're supposed to be quiet. on a bus, a train, the library, the possibilities are endless - the bus though? his favorite. there's so many eyes silently watching him bounce you on his lap. all his has to do is tap his thigh and you know to lift your skirt up and sink onto his cock. no underwear on because why would you? - he wants you to be loud, he wants the people around you to join in. to twist your nipples and shove fingers in your mouth. some people will look at you with disgust wondering why mandated free use is even legal. most will be jealous though, asking minho if you're up for grabs or if you're personal use - and when it's finally your stop, he'll slide out of you and feel the way your pussy clings onto him. a few people might follow you guys until he stops at an alleyway (he has some decency) and bends you over the air.
"You can use any hole you want, but her pussy's mine."
CHANGBIN! - you're public free-use when he first meets you. there's just something about your moans, the way you move your hips, the aroused look in your eye. changbin doesn't usually engage with mandated free-use sluts but you catch his eye right at the start - he'll frequent at the place you do service at and watch most of the time. jerking himself off at the same pace you're bouncing on a cock. but he'll work up the courage and finally take you like he's been wanting to, flipping you around to get a up close view of your face - gosh, you're perfect. fucked out expression, swollen lips, cum dripping down your pretty body. how has no one made you a personal slut yet? changbin taps his fat tip on your clit, watching your body vibrate in overstimulated pleasure - he takes a long time, the people behind him growing impatient, but he doesn't care. you deserve to be praised, to be cherished. your walls are so soft and warm when he slides in, most likely from the previous people fucking you endlessly, but changbin hardly minds the fact. he presses his cock deep in you, feeling your pussy spasm and clench. and when he slides out? he gets to see all of your cream coating his length.
"So pretty. Pretty, pretty girl. You're not personal yet, right? Binnie will take care of you. Binnie can make you feel like this everyday."
HYUNJIN! - even though you're the one who's free-use, hyunjin acts like he is. he always worships you, in or out of the bedroom. he'll bring you to his photoshoots and surprises you with being photographed! the makeup artists and hair dresses doll you up so nice and pretty. you look beautiful, how can Hyunjin stay away? - with the cameras shuttering, he'll get on his knees and hook one of your legs over his shoulder. peeling the dress up to expose your sweet cunt. the makeup artists will scowl since the'll have to redo it and the hairdressers groan when you thread your fingers through his carefully styled hair, but he doesn't care - the photographers will make the best of what they can. there's no use in trying to pry Hyunjin away from you. your pussy tastes too sweet, too inviting on his tongue. so you'll be able to hear the rapid clicks of cameras and see the flashes of light while orgasming in his mouth - it's definitely a little strange to see yourself on the front cover of a magazine with hyunjin between your legs, but it's even stranger that it looks good!
"You look like an angel. You're shy? Don't be shy! You're beautiful, everyone needs to see that."
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thef1diary · 2 days
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Little Big Fan | Fourteen
— Little Big Champion
Series Masterlist
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wc: 1.9k
Note: we're gonna pretend that Max won the championship in the race, and the sprint race didn't exist for the purpose of the plot.
"Holy shit," you murmur as the car rolls to a stop right beside Max's private jet. "Shit," your daughter repeats which earns a laugh from Max.
You shake your head and tell her, "don't say that." Luckily, she'd been so focused on the plane that she'd forgotten to wonder why. Other times, even after being given a response, she would persistently demand for the explanation, usually with "why, mama?" multiple times.
You turned your head to look at Max, who was already smiling due to your reaction. "You do know that you're about to ruin every other plane experience for me now, right?" You ask with a little chuckle and Max, being Max, nods. "Yeah, and you do know that we'll be flying private for most of the races," he said, adding, "or vacations."
"Is this your plane, Maxy?" Isabella asked, slightly leaning over your lap to look out the window as it gave her a better view of the aircraft. "It's ours, princess."
Your attention remained fixed on Isabella's expression as she took in all of the details inside the plane. Max was used to the luxurious life after travelling to so many nations in this plane. To you and Isabella, however, it was a whole new experience, and you couldn't help but feel both delighted and comforted that this would eventually become your new normal. Max hasn't hesitated to spoil you or Isabella thus far, and he has no intentions to stop, especially now that he's become addicted to the joy he feels when he does something for you or Isabella.
Once you were settled in, you were welcomed with a glass of champagne for you and Max, and apple juice for Isabella—served in a champagne flute to prevent her from feeling excluded.
This time, it was a much smoother experience for your daughter, especially during takeoff which she was very nervous about based on the last time she had flown.
Isabella was out like a light once the jet was in the air, and she was able to sleep peacefully because flying private had far fewer people than flying commercial. You and Max had moved to the opposite end of the plane to chat freely, but you could still keep an eye on Isabella in case she awoke.
The flight consisted of only Max, Isabella, and you, with a few crew members present. When you saw the lack of his team, you asked about it. "I might've told them to fly commercial," he said with a shrug.
"And they're going to hate me before I even meet them properly," you responded. While you had met a few people that were a part of his team, Max would be reintroducing you as his girlfriend.
He shook his head, "no they won't. I had to make sure that your first private flight experience was the best of the best, and that wouldn't be possible with them around."
You were in a completely new country, new paddock and new track but it still felt familiar since you had Max by your side. A few other drivers had come up to you and your daughter, having recognized you from the last time you were Max's guest at a race.
"I know RedBull is your favourite team, but what about McLaren?" Lando asked Isabella, who pressed a finger against her cheek to pretend to think for a moment. "I like RedBull, Ferrari, and then McLaren," she counted on her fingers.
Lando's jaw dropped, placing a hand to his chest in mock hurt, "third?" Isabella giggled, "out of ten, Lando."
"But still, what will it take for McLaren to be first?" Max interjected before she could respond to Lando's question. "Stop bothering my Bella, you're not her favourite." He was pleased to be her favourite, both on and off the track. Perhaps second to you off track because you were her mother, but he'd still consider it a win.
Lando approached the three of you a few minutes earlier, immediately sparking up a conversation with Isabella after hearing all the good things about her through Max. Lando was one of the very few people Max had told about you during the short break between races. It was strange to see Lando clad in the opposing team colours near the rival team's garage, but he had to know the two people who owned Max's heart—which were exactly the words Max had told him, albeit Lando found those words a tad too sappy.
Ignoring Max's comment even though he looked up to acknowledge him, he asked Isabella another question. "What about your favourite driver, and don't say Max."
Max looked at you with an expression that said, "are you going to let this happen?" You laughed, looking at the Brit and commenting, "I don't think you'll be happy with the answer, Lando."
"Maxy is my favourite but Charlie too," Isabella stated right after your words earning a gasp from Max and Lando. "Charles?" Max asked, surprised as well.
Max never really thought about it and certainly didn't think Charles would be her second favourite driver. He was aware that Isabella would undoubtedly have other favourites than him but just not as good as him.
"Yes, Charlie," Isabella confirmed, and at the same time the driver walked past them, stopping once he heard his name.
"Ah, hello Bella," he held his hand up for a high-five. He playfully removed the cap she already had on—which was the one Max gifted—to replace it with the one he had on his head; Ferrari.
Max leaned closer to you and whispered, "there are too many non-redbull drivers here." Hiding your laugh behind your hand, you responded, "you can't tell them to leave though, we're not in the garage." He raised his eyebrow, "why not?"
"Just look at Bella," you said, nudging your head towards the scene in front of you two. Her eyes lit up as she giggled at the two drivers who spoke to her. Lando placed his McLaren cap on her head, on top of Charles' cap already on her head in an attempt to outshine the Ferrari driver.
That earned a smile from Max, "I'm glad she's comfortable here, not many kids are." You nodded, "well she will be growing up around the tracks, either to watch you or if she decides to be like you."
Max's head snapped in your direction, "what do you mean be like me? She wants to race?" Around you, he was always expressive, so you could see the glint of hope that was beginning to form in his eyes. Again, you nodded, "she might've mentioned it once or twice but if you can't tell I barely know anything about the sport and even less about karting."
"I can help, please let me take her karting," Max immediately requested, because the prospect of Isabella starting karting, especially under his coaching and guidance, was nothing short of a dream.
"I think she would love that, but let me tell you now that it's already scary enough seeing you race so I'm not sure how I would handle it if Isabella has even a fraction of your talent," you stated firmly, earning a sharp nod in understanding from him.
Max grinned as he observed your daughter incorporating Charles and Lando into her imaginary activities. This time, the two professional drivers were passengers while she was playing the role of a race car driver.
"Oi, lovebirds, join us," Lando made a disgusted expression as he witnessed you and Max cuddled together, but he secretly enjoyed seeing the two of you together—not that he would ever tell Max.
Dropping the conversation for now, you and Max joined in on the little game until the drivers were needed by their various team members.
He did it; Max won the race and the world championship title yet again, for the third time in a row. As a result of his competitiveness and success as a driver, the title had already been determined with five races remaining in the season.
Behind the row of team members—mainly from RedBull and McLaren—you stood among them in parc fermé with a tight grasp on your daughter's hand waiting for Max to park the car in the spot reserved for the race winner.
Cheers and claps could be heard loudly as he stood on top of the car for a moment, throwing his hands up in celebration. With his helmet still on, he rushed towards the team standing behind the barricades, earning praises and applauses from each person he neared.
Amongst the crowd, he spotted you, and while you couldn't see his full face, you knew from the way his eyes crinkled around the corners that he adorned a wide smile on his face.
Max stood right in front of you, but yet it was still too far as a few people were blocking his view of you. Gesturing with his hands, he asked for you to be brought closer and you obliged as soon as you were given space.
He removed his helmet and balaclava which allowed you to see his beautiful face, still adorning a smile on his face but only fondness in his eyes remained as he continued looking at you.
Shoving the balaclava inside the helmet, he held it in one hand to the side while grasping the back of your head with the other. The noises around you seemed to fade away as soon as his lips touched yours, leaving you with only the immense hammering of your heart.
Parting away, you rested your forehead against his for a moment. “Congratulations, baby,” you spoke, loud enough to be heard amongst the crowd that you couldn’t care less about in this moment.
The audience begins to disperse, gathering around the podium for the upcoming celebrations. Max receives a pat on the back, indicating that it is time to go to the cooldown room, but his gaze never shifts away from you.
He knew he couldn't leave without placing another kiss on your lips, so he gave in to his desires by closing his eyes, silencing the world around him once more to focus on the delicate sensation of your lips pressing against his.
Max truly felt like a champion, because not only did he win the world driver's championship of this season but he also had you right by his side to experience the thrill of winning it all. He may have won two other championships in the previous years, but this one felt completely different; much better.
Inevitably, he's pulled away from you by someone from his team. "Go get that trophy, champion," you state, wanting to see him hold the race winning trophy now, and even the championship trophy during the gala.
Right before turning around, he focused on your daughter, messing with Isabella's hair again until she slapped his hands away. She still had a really big smile on her face, having seen Max win the race and the championship at the same time.
You still held Isabella's hand as you began the short walk towards the podium, but she squeezed it tighter to grab your attention. Your smile plummeted and dread instantly filled your heart as you heard your daughter's words, "mama look, it's daddy," she pointed at him with her free hand.
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girlgenius1111 · 20 hours
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all of my pain and all your excuses
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part 2 of family line ingrid arrives home, and realizes how much she's missed with her sister. her and mapi try to figure out how to put the pieces back together. r struggles with the mess inside her head. cw: mommy issues galore 🙃 mentions of poor mental health. solstråle continues to be sad.
-------
It took you a few minutes of crying into Mapi before you realized what she’d probably done. At this realization, you pulled away from her in a panic, practically falling onto the ground. 
“Mapi, please don’t tell Ingrid about this, please please, you can’t, she’ll be so mad, she’s already mad, I can’t,” your gasps for air cut your words off and Mapi took your face in between her hands. 
“Breathe. In and out pequeña. Just breathe.” She instructed, dramatically exaggerating her own breaths. 
“Please, Mapi,” you whimpered after a minute. 
“I’m sorry, nena, I had to. I had to.” She said, seemingly begging you to believe her that she’d had no other choice. You couldn’t really blame her; you’d gotten yourself here, after all. You’d written the letter. You’d meant every word you’d said, and every word you didn’t quite have the guts to say. You’d collapsed into her arms. You’d given her no choice. 
“I’m really scared,” you mumbled. 
Mapi pulled you back in, tucking your face easily into her chest. “I know. You don’t need to be, but I know you are. Everything is going to be alright. I promise you.” 
You wrapped yourself tight around the defender, hoping with everything in you that she was right. 
When Ingrid burst through the front door, eyes immediately finding you on the couch, crumpled up into a little ball in Mapi’s lap, she knew it was bad. Mapi was holding you so tightly, expression unreadable when she glanced up at Ingrid, murmuring inaudible words in your ear. You looked so small, visibly trembling in your baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants, Mapi’s arms engulfing you. Ingrid practically ran to your side, sitting as carefully as she could next to the both of you. 
“María, what..?” Ingrid asked, trailing off when Mapi silently held out a piece of paper to her. Ingrid took it, having no idea what she was about to read. Having no idea what she was about to feel. 
You were hiding your face in Mapi’s sweater, much too distraught to care about how pathetic you probably seemed. You’d heard Ingrid enter, and you knew it was just a matter of time before you had to leave your safe little bubble and confront this. When it had been silent for too long, and you knew Ingrid must be done reading by now, you shifted away from Mapi. It was time to be brave, and it was time to take whatever was coming your way. 
The look on your sister’s face made you want to take it all back. Because, fuck, you weren’t sure your happiness was worth making Ingrid this upset. She was scanning over the paper over and over, as if she was hoping the contents would change with each reread. 
You acted stronger than you felt, sliding off Mapi’s lap and moving a bit closer to Ingrid. She didn’t look away from the letter. 
“I’m sorry.” You said quietly. 
Your sister’s head snapped up to look at you so rapidly, you almost jumped. 
“Solstråle,” Ingrid began, and you felt like the last stable part of you broke sharply at the nickname. Sunbeam, it meant. Ingrid had called you that your whole life. Her sunbeam, always breaking through the clouds to shine a bit of light. She’d assumed you’d grown out of it, recently. You looked so small, though, so scared and so desperately sad, that it just slipped out. She didn’t regret it, not when you practically fell towards her. “Oh, honey.” 
If you were crying with Mapi just minutes before, you were bawling now. Hysterical, hyperventilating cries that were painful to hear, and painful to let out, but somehow so cathartic. Ingrid pulled you into her, beginning to cry herself. 
When Ingrid spoke, it was in Norwegian, and nothing had ever sounded so safe. “I am so sorry, my perfect baby sister, I am so so sorry. I love you. I love you, I love you. More than anything in this world, I love you.” 
And though you still cried, you relaxed marginally at the comfort hearing her speak in your native language brought you. You relaxed, going completely limp against your sister. You probably would have slid off her onto the ground if she hadn’t had her arms wrapped around you so tight. Ingrid wasn’t sure she’d ever let you go. You weren’t sure you wanted her to.
-------
Ingrid stood in your doorway, eyes fixed on your sleeping form. She’d brought you up to bed, carrying you like she used to when you were little. You’d fallen asleep on her downstairs, and she hadn’t dared to move you for a while. She and Mapi sat in a rather stunned silence for a while, before Mapi suggested she bring you up to bed. So, Ingrid tucked you in, pulling the covers up to your chin the way she knew you liked them. She noticed something tucked under one of your pillows, and carefully pulled it out. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the plush polar bear in her hand. Snø. She’d given him to you when you were three, for your birthday. She thought you’d stopped sleeping with him, but apparently not. The thought that you’d pulled him out of your closet for some comfort upon arriving in Spain made tears flood Ingrid’s eyes. She carefully kissed your forehead before rushing out of the room, almost colliding with her girlfriend. 
“Oof,” Mapi grunted, steadying Ingrid, when she caught sight of the other womans’ face. “Amor,” 
Ingrid shook her head, wiping harshly at her eyes, and pushed past Mapi towards their bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she pulled the folded letter out of her pocket, smoothing it out, and began to read it. Again. Mapi had followed her into the room, and took the paper out of her girlfriend’s hands. 
“Give it back.” Ingrid said through clenched teeth. She sounded angry, but Mapi saw the tears in her eyes and knew better. 
“No, you’ve already read it.” Mapi said firmly. 
“María, give it back, I need to read it again.” 
“Mi amor, it's just going to hurt more, and you don’t need that right now.”
“Yes I do,” Ingrid cried. “I do, she’s been hurting like this for god knows how long. Wanting to–” She cut herself off, shaking her head almost frantically. “She said she felt like no one would care if she was gone. Reading this hurts but it is nothing compared to what she has been feeling, and it is all my fault, so let me read it so I can fix this, because I need to fix this, I can’t lose her, María, I can’t lose her.” Ingrid was sobbing by the end, making little to no sense, and Mapi placed her hands on Ingrid’s cheeks, forcing her to make eye contact. She noticed in that moment that while you looked alike normally, you looked just like Ingrid when you cried. 
It wasn’t enough, though, Ingrid was crying so hard, every sob shattered a part of Mapi that she hadn’t known existed. She climbed onto the bed, pulling Ingrid with her, guiding the younger woman’s head onto her chest. Ingrid clutched at Mapi’s shirt almost desperately, muffling her sobs there too, although her body shook heavily with the force of them. Her world was falling down around her, and it was all she could do to hold onto her María, and not let go. 
“I know, mi princesa, I know.” Mapi murmured, running her fingers through Ingrid’s thick hair. “You aren’t going to lose her. We aren’t going to lose her. We’ll fix it.” 
“I don’t know how to fix it,” Ingrid whimpered. Mapi tilted the Norwegian’s head up, until Ingrid was looking at her once again. 
“That’s okay, mi amor. You don’t need to have all the answers now. We’ll figure it out together. For now, just be her sister. Not her parent. Just be her sister, and if you don’t know what else to say, tell her you love her.” 
Ingrid nodded pitifully, scooting up and cramming her face into the crook of Mapi’s neck.
“Thank you. For helping her and for texting me and for being so perfect. You’re always so perfect.” Ingrid mumbled. 
“I’ll be perfect for you any day. I love you, and I love your sister. Now relax, mi princesa. Relax, breathe, calm down. We’re going to be okay.” 
And like you had earlier, Ingrid hoped with everything in her that Mapi was right about this. 
-------
Ingrid and Mapi fell silent the minute you walked into the kitchen the next morning. They’d been talking about you, clearly, and they looked at you nervously the minute you were in sight. You’d woken up irritated, though, as you sometimes did, feeling like your blood was boiling, as if one wrong thing would set you off. You wished you had more control than that, but you knew the minute you heard your sister’s voice, you would fly off the handle. Because this morning? You weren’t sad. You were furious. 
The room was a complete contradiction to how you were feeling. Ingrid and Mapi’s home was bright with sunlight, and warm with color. They were both holding matching coffee mugs, and looking at you with matching concerned expressions, and all of it made you want to scream. Why did Ingrid get to have this perfect life, and you didn’t? Why did she get to be happy so easily, and you didn’t? 
You were lost in your thoughts, taking the coffee Mapi handed you with a quiet thank you. The kitchen was uncomfortably silent. 
“Hi, solstråle. How are you feeling this morning?” Ingrid piped up. You clenched your jaw. How did she think you were feeling?
“Fine.” You snapped. 
Ingrid remained quiet and soothing when she spoke next, and it made you even angrier. “Honey, last night,”
“I don’t really feel like talking about it right now.” You said harshly, cutting her off. Ingrid tensed, trying to keep her reaction in check. 
“I’m sorry, solstråle, but that is not an option. We need to talk about what happened, we can’t wait on that.” Ingrid insisted, voice measured. 
Still it was like she’d hit you. Your head snapped up, your features contorted with rage, and you set your coffee down dangerously softly, glaring at your sister. “Oh now we have to? Now we have to talk about it? I’ve been here for 6 fucking months Ingrid. It took you months to realize something was wrong, and you didn’t even realize! I had to write it out for you. You told me last night that you love me, that you want me here, well then why didn’t you fucking show it before now! I said I don’t want to talk today and I meant that.” You yelled. 
Ingrid shook her head, her hands clenching tight into fists. “Do not yell at me. I am trying to help. I understand that you’re hurt, and that you’re upset, but-” 
You scoffed loudly then, interrupting her, and Ingrid got visibly more frustrated with you, her lips turning down into a disapproving frown. 
“You can’t-” 
“Ingrid, just take a sec.” Mapi cut in, her soft voice a sharp contrast to how you and your sister had been conversing. “Nena, we do need to talk, but it doesn’t have to be now. Let’s just all take a breath.” 
Ingrid was shocked when you slowly nodded your head and took a step back from her, inhaling deeply. It was like magic; she’d never seen an argument that you were involved in get de-escalated so quickly.  
“Go get your homework, okay? You’re coming with us to training.” Ingrid said after a minute. There was no room for argument in her words, and you fought against another surge of anger, fought the urge to yell. 
“Is this because of what I wrote?” You asked evenly. Ingrid and Mapi exchanged glances. 
“Listen, nena, we just want to keep an eye on you.” Mapi told you, realizing that you were a lot less reactive when she spoke to you than when Ingrid did. 
“I know what I said. I wasn’t going to do anything, though. Really. I wouldn’t- I wouldn’t do that to you.” You defended quietly. 
Mapi felt Ingrid’s hand slide into hers and grip tight. I wouldn’t do that to you, you’d said. Not I wouldn’t do that, period. Everytime she thought about what you’d written, Ingrid felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She wasn’t sure what would have happened if Mapi hadn’t gotten home when she did. She wasn’t sure how close she’d come to losing you. She was so scared. 
Ingrid had never been good at letting you see how she was feeling, and maybe that was why, until this point, you’d gone out of your way to hide your own emotions from her. She decided to take Mapi’s advice from the night before. Just be her sister. Not her parent. Just be her sister, and if you don’t know what else to say, tell her you love her. 
Ingrid approached you like she was worried you would lash out at her, which may have been fair. When you made no move to step away from her, she carefully stood directly in front of you, and put her hands on your shoulders. 
“What you wrote really scared me. I’m not mad, solstråle, I’m just really scared. And I trust you, I do, but if I left you here alone, I would just worry, and we haven’t talked yet, and I have no idea what you’re thinking other than the things you said on that piece of paper. So it would make me feel a lot better if you came with us to training today.” 
You blinked up at her for a minute, before you slowly nodded your head. “Okay. I guess that’s fair.” 
Ingrid seemed equally as surprised as you did, removing her hands from your shoulders, and gesturing for you to go get your bag. Once you’d disappeared from the room, she turned back to her girlfriend, who had a ridiculous grin on her face. 
“Look! You communicated! Like a real human being!” Mapi joked, opening her arms. Ingrid instantly melted into the hug, though she scowled at her girlfriend’s teasing. 
“I communicate.” She said stubbornly. 
“Sometimes,” Mapi allowed. “You’ve definitely gotten better. And you’ll keep getting better because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you as determined as you are right now to make sure that your solstråle is okay.” Mapi whispered, kissing the side of Ingrid’s head. 
“My solstråle.” Ingrid smiled. “I started calling her that when she was 3, and she had this shirt with a sun on it. I told her I liked it once, and whenever she saw me sad after that, she’d run off to put the shirt on and come show me. I called her my little solstråle. My sunbeam. She used to be so smiley, María. So happy. She’s so different now.” Very quickly, the smile faded from Ingrid’s face and she held Mapi closer to her. 
“It’s all gonna be okay, mi princesa,” Mapi promised. 
You cleared your throat from the doorway, then, and your sister and her girlfriend sprung apart, blushing like high schoolers caught in an awkward position. “Are you guys done making out?” 
“We weren’t making out,” Ingrid groaned, as you all headed towards the door. 
“No, we only make out after training,” Mapi said seriously.
You made a fake retching sound, Ingrid slapped her girlfriend in the arm, and Mapi laughed to herself, but the tension was broken. And you had smiled, a real smile. Ingrid didn’t care what she had to say to see you smile again, she’d do it. 
--------
As was the norm when you went to training, the younger girls immediately latched onto you, yanking you away from Ingrid and pulling you into some scheme to get back at Mapi for the prank she’d pulled on them last week. It was the usual suspects; Pina,Vicky, Salma, and a couple others pulling you from the room, already giggling. They kindly didn’t say anything about the bruising and cuts on your face, and for that you were grateful, although you did get a few raised eyebrows from the older players. Ingrid watched you go anxiously, only turning her attention away from the door you’d walked out of when Mapi squeezed her hand.
“She’ll be fine.” Mapi promised. Ingrid nodded, but she didn’t stop worrying. And when Mapi went off to work in the gym herself, the Norwegian had no one to pull her out of her head. 
She worried all through the gym session, paying very little attention to what she was supposed to be doing. Which wasn’t normal for Ingrid, and it caught the attention of pretty much everyone. 
Ingrid was staring intently at where you were sitting against the wall in the shade, working on your homework, when Alexia and Frido approached. 
“Everything okay, Engen?” Alexia asked. 
“Yep.” Ingrid said distractedly. 
“What did our dear solstråle do this time?” Frido joked, having known your sister long enough to know precisely why you were living with her. Alexia knew, too, and smiled, joining in on the joke. Until Ingrid’s eyes inexplicably filled with tears, and she turned away from you, wiping harshly at her face. 
“Ingrid? What happened?” Frido wondered, running a hand up and down the Norwegian’s arm, while Alexia looked around anxiously, searching for anyone, anyone on earth, that would be better at dealing with whatever was going on than she would be. 
“It’s a long story.” Ingrid said, her voice cracking. Frido and Alexia exchanged looks, before the captain turned to Jona across the pitch. 
“Ingrid needs her ankle taped!” She shouted, before leading both women off the pitch. Jona nodded knowingly, despite the fact that Ingrid hadn’t done anything to her ankle, and it was rather odd for 2 entire people to accompany her to tape it. Jona knew that Alexia wouldn’t be asking for a minute for Ingrid if she didn’t think it was necessary. 
Ingrid let them pull her into the locker room, rather desperate for some advice and some honesty. Because Mapi loved her too much to tell her how badly she’d really messed up, and both Frido and Alexia were known to be brutally honest. She needed brutal honesty right now. No matter how much it hurt.
-------
You were busy struggling through an essay you were supposed to be writing entirely in Spanish when Frido sat down next to you. One look at her face told you she knew exactly what was going on. You weren’t that surprised. She was your sister’s best friend, and you’d known her for a long time. If there was anyone that Ingrid was going to talk to, it would be Frido. 
Frido always spoke to you in Norwegian, a thing you were endlessly grateful for. It instantly put you at ease, and today was no different, as she tugged playfully at your ear.
“How is my favorite Norwegian?” She asked. 
“I know you already asked your second favorite Norwegian.” You replied jokingly. 
“Why would I ask Caro how you are?” Frido deadpanned. 
You threw your head back, laughing loudly, and Frido grinned, continuing on to tell any and every joke she could think of. 
Ingrid watched from the doorway of the building, and when Mapi turned the corner and saw her watching the two of you, she knew exactly what her girlfriend was thinking. 
Ingrid saw Mapi coming, though, and forced a smile onto her face. “How was the gym?” She asked. 
“Fine. I was distracted though. How is she doing?” Mapi replied, nodding in your direction. 
“Well. She’s joking around with Frido. So, better I assume.” Ingrid said evenly. 
“She’s joking with Frido because Frido speaks her language, and she trusts her, and she didn’t just get into a screaming match with Frido. Frido didn’t read a letter containing her most upsetting feelings. She loves you, Ingrid, she just needs time.” Mapi assured her. Ingrid kissed her cheek softly, very appreciative that her girlfriend always knew what she needed. 
“What if she doesn’t want to talk when we get home?” Ingrid asked, after another minute. 
Mapi sounded wiser than normal when she spoke. Ingrid wasn’t used to her being the voice of reason in their relationship, but she appreciated that the defender always stepped up, and was always willing to be what Ingrid needed. “What happened last night was a big thing. She needs to process, and she needs to take her time with it. She’ll talk when she’s ready. And until then, we keep an eye on her, we give her hugs, and we tell her that we love her, vale?” 
“Okay.” Ingrid agreed. It was going to be a long and difficult evening of not suffocating you with questions, it seemed. She’d do it, though, if it was what you needed. Ingrid thought that she would probably quit football or cut off one of her limbs if that was what you needed. 
-------
You didn’t talk much the rest of the day, as Mapi predicted, and as Ingrid feared. Your sister did her best not to push you, and was mostly successful. Mapi kept the conversation going, able to talk about nothing for hours. She knew exactly which topics to discuss and which to avoid, and she knew how to make both you and Ingrid laugh until your stomachs hurt. Thank god for Mapi. 
You were… relatively alright. Until later that evening, when you got up to head upstairs to finish some homework. You’d accidentally picked up Ingrid’s phone thinking it was yours, and saw a few texts from your mom to her. All about how much she missed Ingrid, how she was thinking of her, how she made Ingrid’s favorite for dinner that night. Nothing about you. You put it back down silently, grabbed your phone, and tried not to think about it, to no avail.
Instead of doing your homework, you sat on the floor of your room, thinking of the fact that your mom had missed your birthday, and not even noticed. Ingrid had, too, but she’d apologized over and over, and she’d promised to take you shopping over the weekend, and to dinner. Ingrid was trying. Your mother hadn’t tried in a while. 
You didn’t realize you were crying until Mapi knocked on the door to say goodnight. She peaked in, frowning when she saw the fresh tears on your cheeks. 
“Hey,” she said softly, carefully lowering herself to the ground next to you, minding her knee. She texted Ingrid to come upstairs, and pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “I’m not going to ask if you’re okay, because I know that you aren’t. But Ingrid and I love you. Ingrid and I want you here. Ingrid and I are gonna fix things, and that is a promise.” 
You registered the words, though you didn’t believe them. Still, you gave Mapi a watery smile and leaned into her a bit. Ingrid’s footsteps were quiet in the hall, but you recognized that she was walking faster than normal. She appeared at your door, then, giving Mapi a meaningful look, and took Mapi’s place, sliding down onto the floor next to you. You pulled your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and holding tight. It looked as if you were trying to physically hold yourself together. 
“Hey, solstråle,” Ingrid said softly. You murmured a greeting, not moving your chin from your knees, and not turning your gaze towards your sister either. It was quiet for a minute before Ingrid prompted you. “Talk to me, please.” 
You sighed, a tear rolling down your cheek. “‘I just miss Mom.” You said finally. 
Ingrid’s chest squeezed uncomfortably. You were so stubborn, so willful, sometimes she forgot you were just a kid. Just an 18 year old kid living in a foreign country, who missed her mom. “Do you want to call her?” She asked, not very confident in the suggestion, but not really sure what else to say. 
You instantly shook your head. “No. She doesn’t want to talk to me.” 
“Kjære, of course she does,” Ingrid began, but she wasn’t really sure. Your parents were so different, now. And whenever Ingrid called her mom, she never asked about you. She only wanted to hear about Ingrid. Your sister wasn’t stupid, she knew she was their favorite, but she didn’t expect them to write you off completely when you moved to Spain. They seemed happier, now. Without you there. It was something Ingrid couldn’t understand. Neither could you, really, but you had long accepted it. 
“No she doesn’t. I stopped calling her, just to see. 2 months ago. She hasn’t called me once. She doesn’t want me, anymore, Ingrid. I know I was an accident, but if they were going to hate me for ruining their early retirement plans, I don’t know why they didn't just…” 
Ingrid was speechless. At a loss for words, and so so angry. You filled the silence, though, things you’d never said out loud falling out of your mouth like you couldn’t help it. 
“I miss what mom was like before, when I was younger. When you were still at home. I miss that mom. I don’t miss the one that I could call right now.” 
“I don’t understand,” Ingrid said quietly, her hand resting on your head, and pulling you closer to her. 
“Ingrid, I know mom is always nice to you, but,” 
“No, solstråle. I don’t understand her. How she could bring someone so perfect into this world and not want to spend the rest of her life watching you grow up. I’ll never forgive her for how she’s made you feel, and I’ll never forgive myself for not noticing earlier. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it better. I promise you.” 
“Thanks, Ing.” You mumbled, looking up at her for a minute before resting your head on her shoulder. 
The problem was, Ingrid could tell you didn’t believe her. She could see it in your eyes; they were still so guarded and so hurt. You were still angry with her, she knew. You thought she just felt guilty, and eventually she would go back to how she was before. Ingrid didn’t know how to make you believe what she felt and what she told you. She worried so deeply that she wouldn’t be able to. That too much damage had been done, and that maybe she wouldn’t be able to fix it. Late at night, early in the morning, right in the middle of a match, she worried about that. All the time until it consumed her, and all she wanted to do was sit with you, and promise you over and over that she loved you more than anything on this planet. What if you never believed her? 
-------
doesn't everyone feel so much better now!
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harunayuuka2060 · 3 days
Text
Malleus: ...
MC: ...
Malleus: You are wild, child of man. *has seen and experienced their seductive side*
MC: Shut up. I was a bit drunk.
Malleus: *chuckles*
MC: ...
MC: You're not going to be in trouble because of this, right?
Malleus: Ah. Now that you have mentioned it.
MC: ...
Malleus: I'm afraid that since you have touched the sole prince of the Briar Valley, you will have to face consequences.
MC: ...
MC: And that is?
Malleus: *smirks* You'll have to continue from where you left off.
MC: ...
MC: I'm gonna need a few drinks.
Malleus: No. I want you sober.
*The next morning*
MC: ...
Malleus: Child of man?
MC: I can't feel my legs...
Malleus: *laughs* *then kisses their cheek*
Malleus: Would you like me to give you a massage?
MC: And what? You will ask for a sixth round?
Malleus: ...
Malleus: *smirks* You were counting?
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