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javierpena-inatacvest · 3 months

Text

Cramps

Summary: After going off of birth control, your periods have been a little more intense than you're used to. What starts out as a stressful morning between you and your husband, very quickly turns into a night that bodes very well for the both of you.

Paring: Husband Frankie Morales x Wife f!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 5.4K on the dot (idk how we got here)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) PERIOD SEX, unprotected p in v sex (do better, but also they want a baby so), vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving, again, you're on your period but our pussy eating king Fransisco Morales is an unstoppable force of nature), creampie, praise kink, big fat nasty breeding kink (it's who I am now, I won't apologize for it), Frankie's got a NASTY mouth, Frankie is the best husband, reader is on her period/has period symptoms, talks about family planning/not being on birth control, use of nicknames (hermosa, quierda, cariño), reader has no physical descriptions besides that she can wear Frankie's clothes

A/N: Well... This was gonna be a drabble... and then it was just gonna be fluff.... and then it was gonna be just some implied smut... and now, we're here??? Idk, don't ask me 🥴 self indulgent bc I just finished my period (and my periods have been whack since stopping bc) and what better way to heal myself than imagining what Frankie would be like taking care of you 🥺 also pls be nice to me this is my first time writing Frankie and I'm v nervous EEK I hope you enjoy!!! sorry Javi bby, I still love u

Bitchy.

You wished you had a better word to describe your mood for today, but truth be told, bitchy was by far the most accurate.

You and Frankie were hoping to start trying for your first baby soon, and had recently gone off your birth control after your doctor had told you it may take a few months for your body to regulate itself before you had a better chance at getting pregnant. Your doctor had also warned you about many of the symptoms and side effects that stopping the pill could have, one of those being becoming more aware of your emotions and mood swings throughout your cycle. That, you were prepared for.

What you were not prepared for, was to feel like an absolute psychopath in the days leading up to your period.

Your cycle had been wonky the past few months as your body began to sort itself out- you had a feeling your period was probably about to start soon, but hadn’t thought much about it, considering your terrible and grouchy mood had overshadowed it. You had tried your best to pull yourself together the past few days, chalking up your grumpiness to long hours at work, or just being in a weird funk, but today, you woke up with a fire in your gut, ready to fight, and poor Frankie was about to be your punching bag.

Sweet Frankie had been nothing short of a saint when it came to just about anything, but dealing with your newly heightened emotions right before your period really should have earned him some sort of Presidential Medal of Bravery, considering that your newly discovered highs and lows while PMS-ing were just as frightening as any time he had spent during his time in the military.

Unfortunately for your husband, despite his best efforts, he had been on your nerves all morning. Not because he was really doing anything wrong, but because the little things that you were normally so good about letting go, or the patience you frequently had seemed to have flown out the window, and you were convinced that if Frankie even breathed the wrong way, you were going to absolutely lose it.

So when unsuspecting Frankie decided to ask you a simple request about after work plans, there was very little he could have done to prepare for your response.

“Morning, Hermosa.” Frankie cooed, emerging into the kitchen, his hand rustling through his untamed, sleepy brown curls as he let out a yawn and a stretch, the slight softness of his stomach peeking out between his t-shirt and pajama pants as he raised his arms above his head before settling behind you. He wrapped himself around your waist, pressing a gentle kiss into your shoulder as you finished putting the last of your lunch in your bag for work, trying to force yourself to focus on his sweet good morning, rather than the empty bowl of cereal in the sink that had greeted you first thing when you woke up, already starting you off on the wrong foot in your already irritable mood.

“Morning, babe.” You grinned, forcing yourself to forgo the annoyance hidden behind your smile as you pecked a quick kiss on Frankie’s lips before gathering the rest of your things for the day scattered across the kitchen table. “Sorry, I didn’t have time to make you breakfast this morning because I was running late, but there’s extra scrambled eggs on the stove if you want them. I’m really sorry, Frankie, I gotta head out, have a good day, I’ll see you later okay?” You sighed, slinging your work bag over your shoulder, your hands full of your coffee mug, water bottle and keys, your cluttered grip and running behind schedule only adding to your frustration.

“All good, Querida, no worries. Hey, actually baby, before you leave,” He paused, setting down the coffee mug he was just about ready to take a sip of, as if a little lightbulb had just gone off in his brain, “do you mind picking up stuff to make that really good buffalo chicken dip for Benny’s tonight? I told ‘em we’d bring like, an appetizer or something, if that’s okay.”

For Frankie’s sake, you couldn’t have been more thankful that you had your back turned to him, because if looks could kill, Frankie Morales would have been a dead man.

Every rational part of your brain knew that even though his request perhaps wasn’t the best timing, stopping by the store and making dip to bring to Benny’s for game night really wasn’t that much time or effort out of your day. But today, it seemed like every part of your brain but the rational one seemed to be functioning properly, and the raging, irrational part might as well have heard that Frankie wanted you to prepare and cook a Thanksgiving meal for 74 after you got home from work.

You took a deep breath, your grip tightening around the items in your hand, praying with every bone in your body that someway or another, you had misheard your husband.

“Tonight? As in, like, today, after I get home from work?” You questioned, trying to do your best to keep your tone from sounding too condescending.

“Yeah, we don’t have to be there until 7, I just don’t think I’m gonna have time to since I probably won’t be outta work until 6:30.” He shrugged nonchalantly, taking another swig of his coffee

Oh yeah, you’d heard him right.

You let out a deep sigh, even more over dramatic than you had intended it to be, arms crossed over your chest and stark frown spread across your face as you turned towards Frankie.

“Oh, perfect! That’s a great thing for me to find out about at 7:45 A.M. the day of, Frank!” Your voice oozed with ferocious sarcasm, now slamming your things back down onto the table to run your hands over your face. “No, that’s great, because there’s nothing I wanted to do more than to come home and make buffalo chicken dip instead of all the other shit I needed to do today before we left! Amazing! Thank you!”

At this point, you were almost positive that if your eyes rolled any further, they’d be in the back of your skull, letting out another angry huff as you shook your head at Frankie, who was looking absolutely petrified as he leaned back against the counter, eyes darting to the floor to avoid yours, running his hand over the wispy curls at the nape of his neck. Frankie began to stammer, trying to defend himself from your wrath.

“Hermosa, I’m- I’m sorry? I know it’s last minute, but you normally make it every time we go over there, I just- I figured it’d be easy for you to do? You can get something else, or I can try to stop by the store really quick on the way home, I just might-”

“Nope, you want buffalo chicken dip, apparently I’m making buffalo chicken dip!” You groaned, collecting everything back into your hands, swearing under your breath as you tried to balance everything in your grip. “Jesus, okay, I need to go to work, just- I don’t even know. I gotta go, Frankie.”

“Querida, I-” Frankie pleaded, beginning to trail behind you as you made your way to the front door.

“Frankie, whatever, it’s fine! I’ll make the stupid dip! I have to go to work, I’ll see you later.” You could feel the muscles in your jaw beginning to clench as you gritted your teeth, trying with everything in you to keep from exploding as you headed out of the house. Without even a kiss goodbye, you left Frankie in the doorway, watching you throw your things in the car and slam the door behind you as you drove down the driveway.

But as soon as you were on the road and your house was out of view, you could instantly feel the tears beginning to well in your eyes, slowly streaming down your cheeks as you began to sob, wondering why you had ruined the morning over as stupid as an appetizer, and even worse, that you had been a complete asshole to your husband about it.

You couldn’t have been more thankful that work had been quiet today- no meetings on the schedule, and no one coming to bother you, leaving you plenty of peace and quiet to continue sulking and brooding in your unpleasant mood.

Right around lunch time, you found yourself eating alone in your office, wishing your lunch was about ten times saltier and chocolatier than it was, crying to yourself as you watched a video of a dog meeting its new human sibling for the first time.

Just as you were beginning to pack up the rest of your lunch and start back up with your work, you felt a terrible twinge in your lower stomach that had you just about keeled over in pain, followed by that all too familiar feeling in your underwear.

Frantically scrambling, you reached into your bag to pull out a tampon, hurriedly shuffling to the nearest bathroom, only to reveal the murder scene equivalent as you pulled down your pants.

Your period had come.

In that moment, as much as you were dreading the pain and misery that was the next few days to come, you couldn’t also help but feel a slight sense of relief, realizing that you were in fact, not actually a crazy person for the way you were feeling, you were just PMS-ing out of your mind. You couldn’t also help but feel absolutely awful for your unjustified freak out at your husband this morning, your heart sinking with guilt as you made your way back to your desk, immediately grabbing your phone to text Frankie.

“Hey�� I’m so sorry about this morning. What you were asking me to do wasn’t a big deal at all and I totally freaked out on you. My period just started, I think that’s why I’ve been such a bitch this morning. I’m sorry, Frankie, I love you.💕 ”

It was almost instantly after you hit send that the reply bubble popped up in your message, your heart pounding anxiously waiting for your husband’s reply.

“It’s okay, I kind of had a feeling 😉 babe, you weren’t being a bitch- I should have talked to you about it sooner. Shitty timing on my part. I’m sorry. I love you too, Querida.”

Before you could even respond, another message popped up below his first.

“Don’t worry about going to the store or making anything tonight. I already texted Benny and told him we couldn’t come. We can spend the night in, just the two of us. I can pick up takeout on the way home if you want and we can pick a movie to watch.”

You could feel your frustrated facade beginning to melt away as your lips shifted from a pursed frown to a small smirk reading Frankie’s text, your thumbs quickly tapping across the screen of your phone to reply.

“Thank you. You’re the best.”

“Of course. Hopefully none of your co-workers ask you to make buffalo chicken dip before you leave 😘”

“Oh shut up, meanie.”

“Just kidding. Have a good rest of your day, love you. 💙

“Love you too. 🤍”

Although the rest of your day was nowhere near enjoyable, given the fact you felt like you were getting punched repeatedly in the uterus and your personality resembled that of Oscar the Grouch, you knew that your night in with Frankie was your light at the end of the tunnel, and only needed to make it a few more hours before there was at least some sweet relief finally headed your way.

Despite the constant stabbing pain in your lower stomach and back, your drive home from work had you in much better spirits than your drive there, now not only having an explanation as to why you had felt like such a mess, but also knowing the rest of your night was going to be dedicated to nothing but cuddling up in your comfiest clothes and snuggling up next to Frankie on the couch.

As you pulled down your street, you were surprised to see Frankie’s truck already parked in the driveway, wondering what he was doing at home almost an hour earlier than he had mentioned he would be this morning. Gathering all of your things out of the back of your car, you quietly entered your home, confusion scrunching in your brow as you called out for your husband.

“Frankie? Babe, are you home?”

Before you could even kick off your shoes or hang up your coat, Frankie had already appeared at the front door to greet you, boyish grin spread across his face as he grabbed your things out of your hand, carefully placing them on your entryway table before engulfing you in a bear hug, his broad arms wrapping around your body and pulling you closer into his chest.

You could feel all the muscles in your body instantly relax as your face rested against the soft cotton of his t-shirt, soaking in the familiar woody and savory scent of him, letting yourself be consumed by every ounce of his embrace.

“Hi Hermosa.” Frankie cooed, pressing a soft kiss against your temple, running his hands up and down your back as you looked up at his sweet brown eyes shining down at you.

“What are you doing home so early? I mean, not that I’m mad about it at all, I just thought you said that you had to work until 6:30 and-”

“Told my boss I had to head out early for a family emergency.” Frankie smirked, laughing at you playfully rolling your eyes from his so-called excuse.

“Last time I checked, your wife being a grump because she’s bleeding out of her cooch doesn’t classify as a family emergency, Fransisco.” You teased, giving him a little shove, making the two of you giggle in tandem.

“Eh, close enough. I’m really sorry about this morning, querida. I was a dick for not talking to you about plans beforehand and just assuming you could go do it. It wasn’t fair of me.”

“It’s okay, Frankie. What you were asking for wasn’t a big deal and I made it one because I’ve been a psycho all day. I’m sorry, too.”

“Well,” Frankie paused, pressing another kiss onto your cheek, the width of his palm gently cradling your jaw as you stared up at him and his sympathetic smile, “number one, you are not a psycho. I can’t imagine how uncomfortable you must feel right now, so even if you were, I wouldn’t blame you one bit. Number two,” he paused again, shifting his kiss from your cheek to your lips, his thumb delicately swiping across your skin, “you’re my wife and I love you more than anything, and if I can take a little time off to help make you feel better, it’s the least I can do. So, why don’t you go change into something comfortable, and when you get back down here, I will have pizza and ice cream, whatever movie you wanna watch, and a back rub ready for you, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you, Frankie. God, you’re the best.” You grinned, pressing up on your tiptoes to let your mouth meet Frankie’s, the plush pout of his bottom lip swiping across yours, lingering just long enough to let the butterflies in your stomach begin to swirl, heat creeping through your cheeks in the tenderness of the moment.

“Of course, cariño. Te amo. Now go get changed.” With one last peck on his lips, you wiggled out of Frankie’s grasp to make your way up the stairs, grinning to see that your husband had already set out your favorite of his oversized sweatshirts and sweatpants, neatly folded on the bed for you to grab, quickly shuffling out of your uncomfortable work attire and exchanging it for Frankie’s clothes, your smile growing even wider at the feeling of perpetually being wrapped up in the essence of him.

As you made your way back downstairs to meet Frankie, you found your heart skipping a beat again to see that the better part of the living room had been turned into a cozy sanctuary- lights dim and candles lit, both parts of your couch squished together, filled with every pillow and blanket you owned, and Frankie sitting in the middle, giant box of pizza, tub of ice cream and your handsome husband waiting for you.

As if your emotions hadn’t already taken you on a wild roller coaster of a ride today, the adorable sight in front of you had you on the verge of tears again, wiping the wetness pooling in your eyes with the back of Frankie’s sweatshirt sleeve drooping off your arm before crawling into the blanket fort he had constructed for the two of you.

“Frankie… You didn’t have to do this.” You sniffled, curling up next to Frankie as he draped a blanket over your lap and his arm over your shoulder, passing you a plate with 2 large pieces of pizza.

“It’s the least I could do. I put on Hercules for us to watch, but if you wanna-”

Before you could let him finish the rest of his sentence, you were running your hand across the scratchy stubble of his cheek, pulling his face closer to yours as you planted a kiss on his lips, feeling your smiles melt into one another's as your mouths met. “That sounds perfect. God, how’d I get so lucky?”

“I could say the same thing, mi amor. You ready to start the movie?”

“Only if you also pass me that tub of Ben and Jerry’s to go with my pizza.”

“I think I can make that happen.”

About half way through the movie, pizza and tub of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, your and Frankie’s bodies were tangled together in a sea of limbs and blankets, contently snuggled up with one another as Frankie’s fingers traced lazy circles on your back and shoulder as you laid against his chest.

“You doin’ okay, querida? Need anything?” He cooed, his soft voice dancing in your ear. As if it weren’t enough that you had already been through the extreme highs and lows of almost every feeling under the sun today, the one you hadn’t been until this very moment was insatiably horny. While the mood swings you had mentally prepared yourself for with your new period symptoms, the constant other kind of ache between your legs you had not, and feeling the low rasp of Frankie’s words tickling your neck had been just enough to flip the switch to make you desperately needy.

Letting your leg slide over Frankie’s lap, you pushed yourself up to straddle his hips, running your hands through the dark curls of his thick, brown hair, and down his broad chest, your fists bunching the worn fabric of his shirt in your hands as your mouths became a mess of tangled tongues and teeth.

“I need- fuck- I need you, Frankie, please.” You pleaded between muffled moans, his tongue swiping in the parted space where your lips melted together as one, instinctively beginning to grind your hips into his, feeling the bulge in his sweatpants starting to grow beneath you.

“Fuck- You sure, baby?” Frankie rasped, reactively bucking up into you, making you whine as his hands dug into your hips, guiding you as you swirled over the tented fabric of his bottom half rubbing against your covered core.

“Please. Please, Frankie.” You were all but whimpering at this point, nodding frantically in approval as Frankie used the grasp on your hips to guide you onto your back, making you cock your head in confusion as Frankie scampered to the other side of the couch, back turned to you as he reached over the ledge, pulling out a thick, black towel with a smug grin on his face. “Did you seriously have a towel ready incase I wanted to have sex?” You snorted, shaking your head at Frankie, now crawling back to you, caging your body under his with an electric kiss as he shimmied the towel underneath you.

“Maybe.” Frankie smirked, breaking from your kiss to let his lips trail down your body, his hands toying with the edge of his sweatshirt covering your body as he pushed it up your stomach and chest, helping you to shimmy it over your head, leaving your top half exposed. He gently palmed at your breasts, taking each pebbled nipple in his mouth, sucking and flicking at the buds with his tongue before letting his kisses travel down the soft skin of your stomach and waistband of your sweatpants. The clothes on your bottom half soon joined your sweatshirt in a crumpled pile as Frankie nestled himself between your legs, gently nudging your hips to let your thighs part, revealing your pussy, slick and shiny for him with your juices.

Even though Frankie would eat you out for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and a late night snack, you couldn’t help but feel guilty that he still found himself between your legs during your time of the month, considering any other man probably would have scoffed at just the thought of going down on you on your period.

But, then again, Frankie Morales wasn’t just any other man.

“Frankie, baby, you know you don’t- Oh fuck!” You gasped, cut off in surprise as Frankie’s tongue licked a long, broad strip across your cunt, making you shudder in pleasure as his head perked up, revealing the devilish grin spread between his cheeks watching your chest already heave in heavy, shaky breaths.

“Oh I know I don’t have to, sweet girl. But I want to. Relax, baby, lemme take care of you.”

Before you could agree, protest, or anything in between, Frankie was back between your legs, arms wrapped around your thighs as they draped over his broad shoulders, digging his fingertips into the plush softness of your skin, dragging his tongue through your folds with the exact grace and precision that he knew made you fall apart in seconds.

With flat, firm presses of his mouth latched against your clit, you could already feel your bottom half writhing under him, the perfect pressure of his tongue dancing around your sensitive bundle of nerves making you moan in pleasure. As your head dipped back, falling into the couch pillow behind you, your hand shot down, fingers burying themselves in the wild curls of Frankie’s hair, tugging at the thick ends for any sort of release as he worked relentlessly at your aching cunt.

“Fuck, Frankie, oh fuck- Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” You whined, your praise only intensifying the way your husband drank every ounce of you up, two thick fingers now gently pressing inside your heat, curled deliciously as they rocked in and out of your entrance, nudging against your g-spot.

Frankie had spent enough time worshiping the altar that was your pussy to know exactly how to make you crumble beneath him, leaving you chanting his name like a prayer as his lips latched around your clit, ferociously sucking as his fingers prodded at the soft, spongy spot that made your cunt begin to clench and heat in your belly pool.

“That’s it, Hermosa. I know you’re close, baby girl. Let me feel you, mi amor. I’ve got you.” Frankie groaned, his words humming deep in his chest, placing chaste kisses on the inside of your thighs before drinking you up like a man starved, adding a third finger into your heat, the added fullness and stretch, combined with Frankie’s relentless pace, enough to have the tingle that had been building at the base of your spine now washing through every inch of your body. Your orgasm began to crash through you, your pussy fluttering as pleasure radiated in your veins, making you cry out Frankie’s name over and over.

Frankie worked persistently through your high, only pulling back after making sure that you had cum again, sitting back on his haunches as he admired the blissed out and ragged mess you had become, your pussy slick and swollen as your chest rose and fell in wrecked inhales and exhales, trying to compose yourself from the Frankie and fucked you senseless with just his tongue.

Wiping the slick and juices glistening in his mustache with the back of his hand, Frankie tugged the sweatshirt covering his own body over his head, followed by his pants and boxers, freeing his painfully hard cock as it slapped against his stomach, his tip red and leaking with precum as his broad body loomed over yours, sucking and nipping at your pulse point as you whimpered his name.

“Frankie, holy fuck.”

“Such a good girl for me, querida. You still want me to fuck you, baby?” He mewled, the metallic and tangy taste of you still lingering on his tongue as he kissed you, laughing to himself at the way you found yourself frantically nodding your head to tell him yes before your words could.

“Jesus Christ, yes. Fuck, please Frankie, I need to feel you.”

Reaching down to stroke himself, he lined his cock up with your entrance, easily sliding into your heat and brushing his tip against your cervix, taking a moment to let you adjust to his fullness. The whine you let out as Frankie filled every inch of you was nothing short of ragged, digging your nails into the skin of his broad back as he ever so slowly began to thrust in and out of you, dragging his length against the slick of your cunt.

“Oh fuck me- Fuck, you hear how wet you are for me, sweet girl? This what you needed, baby? To fill up that pretty little pussy of yours?” Frankie groaned, letting his forehead rest against yours, his sweaty curls now starting to stick to his skin as he pounded into you, rutting his hips at a faster and faster pace.

“It’s all for you, Frankie- Oh shit- only for you.” You moaned, your fingers wrapping around the width of his biceps, flexing deliciously as he hovered over you, sucking you in to a long, deep kiss, fucking into you over and over.

Even with the years between you and the ring on your finger, the possessive part of Frankie’s brain would never get over how the primal and all consuming feeling of knowing you were his, forever, your words shooting straight to his dick as a low groan rumbled in his chest, silently cursing to himself through gritted teeth, watching you fall apart below him.

Readjusting himself, Frankie sat back on his heels, hooking his arm under one of your legs to drape it over his shoulder, the new angle stretching you out in a way that had you seeing stars as Frankie rammed into your g-spot and began thumbing at your clit, still swollen and sensitive from your first orgasm. You could already feel the heat beginning to bloom in your belly once again, your leg beginning to tremble hoisted over Frankie’s shoulder as he dug into the meat of your thigh with a bruising intensity.

Just like he would never get over the fact of knowing you were his, Frankie would never get over watching you begin to crumble under his touch, taking the time to memorize every twitch and twinge your body made as you came closer and closer to your end, always savoring in the moaning mess you’d become as you fell apart around him.

“Fuck, Frankie, Fuck, oh my god- I’m close, baby.” You were all but rambling at this point, your brain barley stringing together coherent sentences as you felt your cunt beginning to clench around his cock, the lewd noises of your moans, wetness and skin slapping together as your hips met filling the room at a borderline pornagraphic rate.

“Meirda, I’m not gonna last much longer, hermosa. Fuck, where do you want me, baby?” Frankie growled through gritted teeth, his eyes locking on yours and telling him everything he needed to know without you saying a word.

“Inside. Fuck, please Frankie, I want you to cum inside me.”

Your confirmation was all it took to flip the switch in Frankie that sent him absolutely feral, the thought of being able to actually knock you up now that you weren’t on birth control anymore, giving you a baby, proving another way to the world to mark you as his? The thought alone was enough to have him bracing every bone in his body to keep him from cuming right then and there.

“Fuck me. You want me to fill you up, querida? Fuck me full of you? Fuck a baby into you? That's what you want, huh?” Frankie moaned, grunting with each thrust of his hips, his rhythm becoming more frantic and shaky as he felt your pussy begin to flutter around him, pressing the pads of his fingers against your clit, swirling them in frantic circles to make sure you came before he did.

“Fuck, yes. I need you too, holy fuck- wanna make you a daddy, Fransisco.”

You could feel the tightly wound knot in your core starting to snap, your legs trembling and breath shaking as Frankie fucked into you, finding yourself on the verge of collapse- but not before Frankie’s filthy mouth got the last word in.

“Jesus, fuck- Fuck, hermosa. That’s what you want, pretty girl? I swear, I’m gonna fuck myself so deep into you it’ll fucking take. Get you fucking pregnant tonight.”

That was all it took to have you orgasm come crashing through you, every inch of your body radiating with pleasure as you came, crying out Frankie’s name as you gushed around him, your eyes practically rolling to the back of your head, your mind going blank and numb, the only thing grounding you were the incoherent ramblings of your husband as he followed suit behind you.

“Fuck, that’s it, baby. Fuck, I’m gonna cum too, fuck, fuck-ahhhhhh.” With one final thrust, Frankie could feel himself spilling against your walls, coating you with his spend as his cock pulsed, making sure he milked himself of every last drop deep inside your cunt before even thinking about pulling out. Moving your leg, Frankie slumped into you, splaying himself across your body as your chests rose and fell in sync, laying in silence as you let your breathing steady, coming back down to Earth from your high.

With a shallow grunt, Frankie carefully pulled his softening cock out of your heat, leaning back to admire the mess he had made between your legs, his cum dripping down the inside of your thighs and pussy glistening with the mixture of your arousal. You let out a soft hiss at the loss of Frankie’s fullness inside you, only to quickly be replaced by a gasp as he buried his two fingers back into your cunt.

“Gotta make sure every last drop stays in there, hermosa. Gonna keep you full of me all night, baby.” He mewled, carefully gathering his spend and pushing it deep inside you, making you whimper as he slowly pulsed his fingers back and forth, pulling away his hand to lean back into your body, engulfing you with an electric kiss.

“Holy fuck, fuck me. Jesus, Frankie.” You laughed to yourself, your head dipping back on the pillow as you buried your face in your hands, at a loss for words at how euphoric you now felt in your post colital bliss.

“Wow, again, already? Gotta give me a few after that querida.” He smirked, making you roll your eyes at his joke as you playfully swatted at him, making him lean in to pepper your body with kisses, leaving you squealing and squirming in delight.

“You are absolutely ridiculous, Fransisco Morales. If you keep fucking me like that, then yeah, absolutley.”

“If I keep fucking you like this, I have a very hopeful feeling that next month, we’ll have something else to care about besides period cramps.”

“I swear to god, if one of my cravings ends up being buffalo chicken dip once I’m pregnant, I’m gonna be pissed.”

Taglist:

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erinfern0 · 4 months

Text

no words were needed.

simon "ghost" riley x gn!reader

— gender-neutral nicknames, gender-neutral anatomy, only pronouns used are you, etc.

summary: you and simon were friends as long as you remember. maybe that was the reason why the two of you were so blind to the feeling hidden so deeply inside.

warnings: hurt/angst to comfort and fluff. cocky teasing, mention of abuse, swearing, smoking, terrible date, insecurities, self-doubt, jealousy, protective simon.

a/n: based on this lovely request, the only thing I decided to change is that i made the reader gender-neutral, not including any specific pronouns, just a little preference of mine.

You and Simon were always there for each other, since the day you two met. Not only because the two of you were neighbors — living just a couple of houses away from each other, but also because your parents were friends. Both of your fathers served in the military, and mothers always found time to chat and see each other when their husbands were away.

You always adored the tiny gentleman in him, he was like a brother to you, always finding ways to comfort you and help whenever you needed it. And you were there for him too, watching him exorcise or patching up all the little scruffs and wounds he had. You spent hours upon hours in your room just so he could escape from the rough household he had to grow up in.

Your house became his home, and he always felt like a brother to you, protecting you from possible dangers and people you'd rather not deal with. That was until high school, when you realized he's not the cute little boy he used to be. He turned a little colder, focusing on his grades and physique to appeal to his father's wishes.

Watching him lose himself broke your heart, especially after you realized you were catching feelings for him. You hid it well, trying not to get too close to him to not add burdens to his already high pile of them. You brought peace to his life that you didn't want to ruin.

No words were needed between the two of you to know exactly what you were thinking, well, most of the time. You always joked that you shared some braincells as you had the same type of humor and shared some interests.

He was slightly older than you, just a couple of months apart, and as soon as he turned 18, he started applying for the military. He worked his ass off, and you just supported him, reminding him how much he deserves to get in and how well he'll do as a soldier.

And you, too, had to work hard, studying for your exams. Ever since you turned 18 too, you felt the pressure of being an actual adult, having to apply for colleges and part-time jobs to not feel like a parasite to your parents.

Now, you were sitting in your room by your desk, spreading notes all over it and highlighting the most important parts when you heard footsteps coming upstairs. Not anyone from your family members. They belonged to Simon. Your heart rushed for a split second before he entered your room, hood covering most of his head and face.

“Learn to knock, Riley.” you turned towards him and smiled lightly. “I could have been naked, you know?”

“Wouldn't complain.” he chuckled as he walked to your desk and wrapped his arms around you from behind. Simon earned himself a light smack to his forearm for his comment. His head fell on your shoulder, watching you write over one of the pages. “Still studyin'?”

You groaned in frustration, head falling back against his body as he just laughed and ruffled your hair. Then, he just patted your shoulders and pulled away from the hug to sit on your parapet.

Closing your textbook and spinning around in your chair, you watched him lean against the wall and grab a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “So, um… How was your date?”

His question caught you off guard, stopping you in your movements and just staring at the ceiling, thinking about the answer. Telling him the whole truth might be hurtful, not only for him and you but also to him and you'd never risk that.

Well, the only reason you even agreed to go was because he was slightly similar to Simon, a tall blonde gym rat who likes books and video games. You were naive thinking that he'll ever replace Simon. By the end of the date, you decided to tell him the truth, that you already had feelings for another man, and you are sorry for possibly leading him.

He turned out to be less sweet than you believed him to be, immediately getting mad at you for, as he phrased it: 'wasting his time'. This made you think so hard, how could you be anyone's type if the only person you truly want is your best friend?

“It was fine until it wasn't.” you claimed, immediately regretting your words as soon as you looked at Simon.

The hood was gone, leaving you to see the expression on his face. The frown of his brows and that spark in his eye made a chill run down your spine. Concern? Worry? Anger? You couldn't tell, but it wasn't anything nice.

“What did that prick do, huh?” he asked and looked at you while blowing out some smoke towards the opened window. That's when the light hit his face, showing you the bruise forming on his cheekbone.

“Again?” you whispered breathlessly, getting up from your seat to appear in front of him seconds later. Your fingers caught his chin, turning his face so you could see it better.

“Don't switch the topic on me.” he groaned with annoyance, gently wrapping his fingers around your wrist to pull your hand away from him. Seeing your face so upset, analyzing every little scratch on his face, especially the purple mark splashed on his side, he just sighed, shaking his head.

“Answer for an answer?” you asked, recalling a little rule the two of you had since your early childhood. His tongue brushed over his teeth as his mouth was closed, just accepting his fate.

“I asked first.” he barked, forcing a smirk on his chopped lips. His legs part, inviting you a little closer, and allowing you to wrap your arms around his torso. One of Simon's arms rested on your shoulder while the other held his cigarette away from you. “Plus, you already know the answer to your question so...”

“It wasn't that bad, it's just… We weren't a match, that's it.” you started, watching him raise his eyebrow in disbelief, knowing you too well to just believe it was the only reason. “God, you're annoying.” you huff and roll your eyes.

“Proud of it, too.” he shrugged his shoulders, leaning against the window to watch you squirm and collect your thoughts. That's what you thought he was doing, but actually, Simon's eyes were just wandering over your face to admire you, even if for just a couple of seconds.

Every little detail of your face was mapped in his head, knowing every curve and blemish, every beauty mark or scar that you had. He adored every part of you, especially your eyes that looked so lost in thought, so easy for him to get away with his actions.

“He was nice, we went for a walk in the park nearby. Then I just realized he… Wasn't exactly the person I was looking for, and I told him that.“ you met his gaze, dark browns hazed with nicotine, eyelids heavier than usual. His pupils were blown out, twitching as he looked into your own eyes. “I think I wasn't too gentle with it, he got so upset.”

Your gasp made his body stiffen in alert, the hand that rested on your shoulder gently squeezing it to encourage you to speak. His expression was puzzled, as if he was shifting between different emotions, analyzing the way your eyes fluttered. Of course, he didn't miss the water collecting in the corners of your eyes.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, his voice low and quieter than before, as if you were a deer caught in the headlights. A dainty, sweet little fawn that he wished he could take care of better. His expression softened, the clench in his jaw relaxing under your touch,

“Not upset like that.” you assured, pulling away to rest your hands on his sides, gripping the material of his hoodie. The material is soft and smells so comfortable. The mix of his cologne and cigarettes, despite how much you hated him smoking, the scent always warmed your heart.

“He said something, didn't he?” he asked, teeth clenching as you nodded your head. “Take your time.” as he soothed your hair, the cigarette was thrown into the ashtray you got for him. His now free hand reached to your forearm, drawing calming shapes on your skin, causing goosebumps.

“Well, he just said that I'm wasting his time, how much he regretted seeing me that day because I turned out to be an 'indecisive little baby'. He…” you let out a shaky breath, trying so hard not to show him how much the guy's words hurt you. “He said I was unattractive and boring anyway. He just left me there.”

“Why didn't you call?” he asked, his jaw clenching again, and you felt the muscles of his back tensing under your fingertips. He shifted uncontrollably, trying to stay calm for you. “He'd have to look for his teeth in the fuckin' ground.”

You shook your head, trying to push away the image of Simon covered in the guy's blood, panting heavily with anger. Knowing how much he cared made you feel even worse for telling him all of this.

Simon's mind was somewhere else. Yes, of course, he'd beat the living shit out of your awful date, but what mattered more, the most, was you.

“You told me not to go, and I didn't listen.” you reminded him, biting your inner cheek to keep your composure. “You were right about him from the start, I just… Didn't want to bother you.”

“You'd never bother me, doll.” he assured, leaning closer to you. His face was mere inches away from yours, eyes scanning from your brows to your lips, stopping there for a second before he got right back to your eyes. “All he said was pure bullshit, I hope you know that.”

Your lack of response, and the nervous swallow you did, made his heart sink in realization. Of course, you'd listen to the man who was so direct rather than your friend who admired you in silence. You couldn't see yourself from his perspective.

You couldn't see how much he looked up to you, your soft and kind nature, how much he adored your voice when you rambled about school, friends, and your hobbies. Likewise, you didn't see your body like he did, as pure perfection. Furthermore, you didn't deserve to hear so many lies from such an insecure little fucker who got upset he wouldn't fuck you, as Simon thought.

The room was awfully quiet, as you closed your eyes to stop yourself from crying. He could see it, and it made him even more mad, not at you. At himself. How could he be so blind?

Now, sitting so close to you, thinking over all the ways he could show you how wrong the guy was, it hit him. He felt it before, the way his heart sped up thinking about you. How you were the first thing he thought in the morning after he woke up and the last thing before he went to bed. You were always on his mind, a fever dream of your touch, words, and smile wandering every time he needed comfort.

That's so obvious. He was stupid to believe the reason he was so mad when you mentioned your date was just because he had a bad feeling about him. He just wanted it to be him. All those years, he was just so blind.

Simon loved you like a madman, worshipping the ground you walk on and feeling lucky he could breathe the same air as you. He craved your comforting touch, you were the reason he liked to be touched in the first place, always pulling away from hugs too soon before he met you.

He swallowed harshly, shifting in his seat again, pulling you closer as he cupped your face. His thumbs caressed your cheeks, moving up to wipe a couple of tears that ran down your face.

"Look at me, please." his voice cracked, eyelids fluttering as his mouth felt incredibly dry. Licking his lips, he smiled softly as he saw you slowly open your eyes, looking at him with such a questionable mix of emotions. "You deserve way better than that dumb fuck." he spat out, holding back from saying 'I'd treat you better.'

"He was right, Si. I agreed to go even if I knew I didn't want any of it, I didn't want him." you whispered shakily, your hands resting atop his, Despite your state, you melted under his touch, hoping it'd last forever.

"Even if you knew that, he should be lucky you gave him a chance." his comment made the two of you chuckle softly, catching each other's gaze. You felt lost in his eyes, the dreamy brown making your legs feel weak like cotton. "Who did you want then?"

'You were the one I wanted.' you thought to yourself, immediately scolding yourself for even thinking that. His hands caressing your face felt warm, they felt like the comfort you so desperately needed.

You felt your cheeks get warmer as he got closer, and for a split second, you thought he heard your inner voice. Despite your worries, Simon didn't look away or leave, he just stared into your eyes as if they were the most beautiful thing he ever saw.

"He's a fool for losing you, sweetheart." his voice echoed in your head, making you feel giddy at the raspy sound of the nickname he gave you. He never called you that before. It slipped so easily off his tongue, sounding so perfect.

Seconds later, you felt courageous. 'Now or never.' the little voice inside your head whispered, taking over your body and inching closer to him. Lips almost touching as you clung to his hoodie, trying to pull him towards you.

Simon was faster, his lips hungrily latching onto yours in a rushed, messy manner. It felt like he waited for this moment all his life, fingers holding your face as close to him as possible. His body slid off the windowsill, standing on his feet and pulling your bodies against each other.

One of your hands rested on his chest, grasping the soft material with your shaky fingers, the other running up his body to find its' place in his hair, tugging on the ends. Your action caused him to groan, deepening the kiss with the way you tilted your head, allowing the two of you to lose yourselves.

It was fast, messy, and greedy. The way he turned you around so you'd lean against the wall, letting him cage you in his embrace made you gasp into his mouth. Simon felt himself growing breathless, but it didn't matter.

That's when you felt it. You felt his love in such a different way than before. It was strong, storming into you like a hurricane to leave your mind a hazed mess. All you could think about was the fast beating of his heartbeat under your fingertips, the way he melted into your body as the kisses slowed down, turning into short pecks.

A string of saliva connected the two of you as you pulled away, catching your breaths. Foreheads touching, Simon's thumb rubbing your swollen lower lip, feeling the mix of spit under the pad of his finger.

You felt heavenly, tears almost spilling again as you realized that your crush on him wasn't just a crush. It was hard for you to admit your love to him, but now you could hear the mean voices in your head go away with the way he held you so close to him.

And for the first time in a while, Simon felt at peace, knowing he was right where he belonged. You were the light he was chasing in the dark tunnel of his life and now he could just have you. He felt your arms wrapped around him so tightly, he couldn't focus on anything else. He felt stronger than ever, cared for, loved.

No words were needed between the two of you as you just stood there, bodies tangled, and leaned against the wall to keep the two of you from falling to the floor from how shaky your legs were.

No words were needed for the two of you to admire the moment of quiet, peaceful breaths syncing with each other.

No words were needed for the two of you to admit how blind you were, not noticing or not admitting your feelings for each other.

No words were needed to express the love you felt for each other, just as it's always been.

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#simon riley cod #ghost simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod ghost #cod mw2 #fanfiction #cod mwii #gender neutral reader #riri writes

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gatorbites-imagines · 1 year

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hello good sir, might I request a ghost x reader fic where ghost and reader are married but the reader is soaps brother and after years of the reader talking about his husband soap is only just finding out its ghost, I like the whole idea reader and soap being related as I'm also scottish and I think it would be funny

Simon “Ghost” Riley x male reader

Headcanons

I have no idea how to write accents so there will be none of that, but it’s there in spirit.

- There’s a large chance you have to be military as well to have met Ghost in the first place, maybe you even went into training together or were placed on the same team when you both first started out.

- That would probably lead to you being there when everything with Roba happened, giving you your own scars and issues to deal with in the trauma section. But you and Simon lean on each other and survive.

- I could imagine you two just get married on impulse, both having fallen in love a while ago and after returning after Roba, you both just go down and get married at the court house, not wanting to lose the chance of being together forever.

- Neither of you ever really thought you’d get married, but you love each other too much to ever want to lose the other and being married helps settle some kind of fear you both have to being abandoned.

- Neither of you wear rings as they are easy to lose or get stolen, so you both get a ring tattooed around your ring finger, or get some other matching tattoo to show your union.

- After everything you decide to settle down somewhere in England where you and Simon have a house together, somewhere that’s close enough that you can visit your family in Scotland but be close to base if need be.

- Simon keeps going further in the military whilst you stay in England and become an expert in your areas, only going out on a normal number of outings as Ghost goes out on a large amount of them to further his career.

- He still makes time to stay with you though, not wanting you to feel neglected or forgotten.

- Its because of all his work that your family never actually meet Simon, but they see a few pictures you have around the house of the two of you, Ghost unmasked. And seeing as you refer to him as Simon and not as Ghost there’s no suspecting they’re the same person.

- Soap is most likely inspired by your own time in the military to join himself, as he wants to take down people like Roba or just to make the world a better place.

- No one knows fully what happened with Roba as its not something you talk about, but your entire family knows of the scars and the trauma you returned with, so they made their own conclusions.

- You’ve shown Ghost pictures of your family before, so he recognizes Soap immediately when they need, but Simon being Simon doesn’t say anything. He almost finds it entertaining and wants to see how long it takes for Soap to realize.

- As their friendship blooms they learn stuff about each other, though Ghost already knows most of it about Soap since you’ve told him about your brother over the years. That’s when Soap learns that Ghost is married, and he immediately asks who the lucky person is and if Ghost has pictures.

- Ghost immediately shoots it down, rolling his eyes at Soaps whining as he continues on with the mission, though he does chuckle a little to himself knowing the truth.

- Ghost also lies about not understanding Scottish, as you’ve spoken it around him long before you got married so he has picked up on most of it, but he finds it funny to poke jokes at Soap, so he keeps it up.

- During the entire thing that happened in the game you have no contact with your husband or your brother, which makes you extremely anxious and nervous, to the point where you get physically ill and have to take a few days off.

- You’ve become a captain of your own team of experts who worry about you since you aren’t in the best state, so they take over most of your work for you.

- When 141 returns to England they’re sent to stay at the base you run since you have space and the resources for it. When you hear that they’re coming you immediately return to base to welcome them, and to lessen your own fears.

- When they arrive you go to greet Price since he’s the captain, but when that’s over Soap throws himself at you and laughs as you catch him, worrying over him since he got hurt during the whole ordeal.

- That’s when he introduces you as his brother, saying you’ve been in the military game for years, and that your husband was military too. That’s when Soap makes a comment about how he’s never actually met the guy, since he’s always out on missions.

- That’s when Ghost steps closer to you, and as Soap makes a comment about how he hopes the guy at least makes enough money to pamper you with all the work he does, Ghost says that he sure hopes so, pulls up his mask, and kisses you.

- The 141 all buffer for a moment trying to comprehend what they just saw, and its Soap who comes out of his first and immediately yells that you two were married the whole time?? And Ghost didn’t say anything.

- That makes Simon and you start laughing. Your excuse is you didn’t know they were teamed up together, and Simon just says he wanted to see how long it took for them to figure it out. Price and Gaz will just laugh, whilst Soap complains that it isn’t fair.

- Its later that Soap realizes he’s seen Ghosts face before in the pictures you have in your home, and he immediately jumps to his feet and announces so. He and Ghost stay good buddies through all of this, though Soap does feel a little betrayed about the secret.

- After everything that’s happened with this mission Ghost and Soap both cut down on missions a bit, having almost lost their lives and wanting to spend more time with the people who matter.

- This means you finally get to bring Simon to meet your family, who all are extremely excited to meet your hunk of a husband. Soap of course refers to him as L.T the entire time.

- Soap will definitely use that he’s your brother and Ghosts brother in law during missions or sparring, saying that Ghost wouldn’t dare hurt his brother in laws feelings, right? As Ghost is about to throw him across the sparring mat.

- Soap would also call you when Ghost is working him to the bone, whining about your demon of a husband and asking how you can put up with him on a day to day basis. At that you just laugh and say your even worse with your rookies, so you don’t know why Soap is complaining.

- Just imagine a lot of family fluff, like you and Ghost being domestic and cooking dinner together, or cuddling on the couch, or helping Ghost learn to enjoy Christmas again after all these years.

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x0x0josephinex0x0 · 3 months

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pretty boy | jeonghan

I can't help myself from writing enemies to lovers Jeonghan, because he provides the source material himself. Also big thanks to Hani @vanillacheol for letting me use her name and likeness to a) provide our MC with a bestie and b) provide Seungcheol with a girlfriend. Anyway, here are the details: Word count: 8.3k Summary: After a complicated first date, you swear to hate Jeonghan forever, but fate has other plans >:) Genre: E2L, academic rivals to lovers, royalty au kind of, college au kind of Warnings: reader is referred to using feminine pronouns and other identifiers, reader is mentioned to be wearing a skirt and a gown on separate instances, Jeonghan calls reader "princess" a lot (because she is), there are pranks mentioned, pressure to choose someone to marry is mentioned, lots of name-calling, a couple of arguments, lots of kissing, some suggestive language, some brief actual bullying (not between Jeonghan and MC), long-hair Jeonghan (def needs a warning), and Jeonghan is an absolute menace as per usual.

“Are you listening to me?” your friend Hani asks, bringing you back down to earth.

The truth is, you hadn’t been listening to her at all. You’d been miles away in your mind, daydreaming of home. “I’m sorry,” you say sheepishly. “Would you mind repeating?”

Hani rolls her eyes. “I was asking,” she says pointedly, “if you’ve got a flight for my birthday ball yet.”

“Of course,” you reply. “Why?”

She fidgets nervously — a telltale sign she’s hiding something. “Oh, no reason,” she says, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.

Your grin drops. “He’s coming,” you realize. “Jeonghan is coming to your birthday ball after all.”

“I know what you’re going to say, and I need you to be rational about it. Jeonghan is Seungcheol’s best friend, and I couldn’t just not invite him.” Hani plays with her pearl bracelet, a gift from her boyfriend, and avoids eye contact with you. She’s gotten more assertive since she started her relationship with Seungcheol, the prince of a nearby country, who’d fallen in love with your friend at freshman orientation at your posh private college. They’d been together for a year and a half, and six months ago she never would’ve said any of that to you, carefully concealing her real feelings behind a placid smile.

It’s for this reason you’re grateful for Seungcheol. He’s helped your friend feel confident and strong, and you can tell how much he loves her. He’s also kind and thoughtful and genuine and funny, very down-to-earth despite being a prince, and full of good advice when you need it. Becoming his friend has been a huge perk of the relationship he has with Hani.

The one major downside? Yoon Jeonghan. He’s Seungcheol’s best friend from home, the son of a high-ranking military leader in Seungcheol’s home country, and apparently they were raised like brothers. Unlike sweet and harmless Seungcheol, though, Jeonghan is a devil in disguise. Blessed with the face of a fairy prince, with intellect to match, he was confident to the point of arrogance and seemed to always get exactly what he wanted. He could sweet-talk even the strictest professors into extending deadlines just for him, and had a penchant for connecting especially accommodating students and teachers to job opportunities and networking events and even really nice favors — once he paid for one of the school secretaries to fly to a tropical island with her new husband just because she straightened out an attendance issue for him.

You had butt heads with Jeonghan almost upon first sight, which had coincidentally been on a date that Hani insisted you go on. “You’ll love him,” she had oozed.

“Are you sure you’re not just trying to fulfill your lifelong dream of us dating brothers?” you’d grumbled, trying to avoid showing how nervous you’d been.

“They’re not really brothers,” Hani had reminded you, “but of course I would love it if you dated Jeonghan for real. He’s perfect for you, trust me.”

She’d had to eat her words when you came home from the date soaked to the bone, a murderous glare in your eyes. “He is without a doubt the most bull-headed, self-important, cocky, absolutely despicable human being I’ve ever met. I never want to see him again,” you’d fumed.

“What happened?” Hani had exclaimed, rushing to grab you a towel. She listened sympathetically as you recounted how it had all gone down.

It had actually started off well. Jeonghan struck you as the kind of person who could make a brick wall feel clever and important, and he was a perfect gentleman at first. He’d even addressed you as “my lady”, a reference to your position as eldest princess of a small island country, until you begged him to relax, but the level of decorum he’d approached you with had bolstered your confidence a bit.

“So...princess,” he’d said cautiously after you’d insisted he call you by your name, and you’d rolled your eyes at this. “How’s the island these days?”

“Are you asking me about foreign policy on our date?” you had asked with a raised eyebrow.

“No, I’m asking you about your home,” he’d countered. “What’s it like there? It’s one of the few places I’ve never been.”

“Oh, really?” Your eyes lit up. “Well, it’s much warmer than it is here.”

“Naturally,” Jeonghan had said. “Do you miss that?”

“More than anything,” you’d said, frowning at the snow falling in soft piles outside. “Near the palace is this one stretch of beach -- you sort of have to hike through a small jungle to get there, but nothing too bad, you know -- and when it snows like this I have to remind myself that it still exists and I can go back there one day.”

Jeonghan grinned. “What does it look like?”

“Well, there’s a thick treeline since it’s just past the woods, but that means it’s very private. It’s got the most beautiful sand -- it’s pink!”

“Pink sand?” Jeonghan had repeated, his head propped up by one hand as he gazed at you, rambling on excitedly.

“Yeah, it’s from a micro-organism that lives in the coral reefs that grow around the island. There are a few different pink beaches on our island, but this one is special. Hardly anyone knows about it. Seokmin -- my cousin, you know, the theater major -- found it first, and I’ve been going there ever since.” You caught sight of him watching you and felt your face heat up. “Uh, sorry. I got carried away.”

“No, no, it was cute,” he reassured you, which made you feel even more embarrassed.

“What about you?” you had asked, and you’d listened with rapt attention as Jeonghan had described the mountainous region he hailed from, with so many clever little asides that made you laugh. You were generally more of a “black cat” type personality, but Jeonghan was bringing out an eager, girlish side of you that almost no one got to see. He made you feel like your blood had become carbonated -- like little tiny bubbles were flowing all over your body, all tingly and excited.

The conversation had lasted hours, covering everything from your families (yours was close, his was rather distant) to your favorite foods (seafood for you, fried chicken for him) to the most unusual kinds of music you liked (film scores for you, musical theater songs for him). Finally, with all your food eaten and the drinks all but drained from their fancy bottles, it had come time to talk about education. “If you weren’t a princess, what would you be studying?” Jeonghan had asked.

“I think I would still want to learn about public policy, especially as it relates to nonprofits,” you had replied. “At my core, I want to use what I know to help others, and there’s almost no easier way to do that than improve the legal conditions for charity work.”

Jeonghan nodded thoughtfully. “You might be the biggest nerd I’ve ever met,” he finally said with a grin.

You had gasped, pretending to be scandalized. “Even bigger than you, Mr. Political Science?”

He shook his head. “Imagine how cool I’d have to actually be to be studying poli-sci and still be considered cool.”

“Oh, are you considered cool?” you’d teased. “I hadn’t heard that.” (Which was a lie. When a girl in your dorm had found out who you were going on the date with, she’d almost keyed your car out of jealousy. Jeonghan was notoriously cool.)

He clapped a hand over his chest. “Please don’t wound me like this. My reputation is all I have.”

You looked him up and down in the way that tabloid articles had called your “man-eater move.” “Just your reputation, pretty boy?” you questioned lightly. “How disappointing.”

Jeonghan’s eyes got wide, but he recovered quickly. “I actually have one more thing. Way more important than my reputation.” He said it so seriously that you leaned forward in interest.

“What is it?” you asked, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

He leaned forward to match you and whispered in your ear softly, “A fully completed Death Star Lego set.”

And you had burst into laughter. People were generally easy for you to read, but Jeonghan took you by surprise every time. The rest of the meal was full of giggles and simmering tension. More than once you caught yourself staring at him and wondering what it’d be like to kiss the smirk right off his gorgeous face.

Which is how you found yourself in the custodian closet at that very restaurant twenty minutes later doing exactly that.

He had begun it -- suggesting a quick bathroom break that you somehow understood with your eyes, and on your way in he’d pulled you right into that tiny closet and pressed his mouth to yours like it might be the last thing he ever did. You were surprised at how strong this lithe boy was as his arms wrapped around your waist, his hands tightening into fists around the fabric of your skirt at your hips as he pressed you up against one of the shelves, knocking several bottles of cleaning wipes onto the floor. You had gasped and pulled away, just enough that you could look at him. “Careful, pretty boy,” you’d hummed breathlessly as you pulled him back for more, and he’d groaned.

“Call me that one more time, princess, I dare you,” he’d murmured against your lips.

“Is that a threat?” you’d whispered back, knotting your fingers into his long hair, perfectly content to let him do whatever it was he’d had in mind.

But then his cellphone, which had somehow slipped out of his pocket onto the floor, rang. Loudly. You both dived for it, worried that someone would hear, and you reached it first. After silencing it, you saw a familiar notification pop up on Jeonghan’s phone.

“No way!” you’d exclaimed quietly. “Are you in Exploration of Debate?” It was an online class you were taking as a general, where you posted anonymously on an online debate forum. The person with the highest number of won debates was the person with the highest grade, and to your chagrin, you were in second place after a devastating loss to “TwinkleToes17”. In fact, so ruthless was TwinkleToes that they’d gained a reputation outside the class as someone who was a pure psychopath, willing and ready to twist every word to their advantage. It seemed like everyone on campus had heard of this person.

Which is why you’d burst out of the closet two minutes after. “I can’t believe this,” you’d yelled, not caring that the other restaurant patrons and the wait staff were staring at you. You’d ripped your coat off your chair, grabbed your bag, and ran out into the wet, snowy evening, Jeonghan hot on your trail.

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset. It’s a class,” he’d insisted, jogging to keep up with your dramatic pace, a laugh in his voice that only made your anger more overwhelming.

“Okay, firstly, even outside the class everyone knows you’re a monster,” you’d said. “And secondly, you manipulated me and twisted every word that I said to win that debate.” The third thing, which you hadn’t said, is that you couldn’t bear looking stupid in front of anyone, even if no one knew it was you. Mistaken, fine. Naive, sure. But never stupid.

And Jeonghan had made you look really stupid.

So you’d ignored his repeated calls after you, until he’d finally got frustrated and stopped following you. You’d walked the entire five kilometers home in the snow, arriving soaked and cold and grumpier than you’d possibly ever been. Worse was when you shared classes with Jeonghan for the next two semesters, unraveling your plan to never see him again.

When recounting this story to Hani, you left out the part about the short-lived makeout session in the closet and the undeniable chemistry between the two of you. You, instead, focused on the massive betrayal of learning about his online activities, Hani had scolded you for being too stubborn, prideful, and competitive, and that had been the end of it.

But the true rivalry had begun six months ago. You had had to go over to Seungcheol’s apartment to take care of Hani while he was away. Hani usually stayed at his place when she was sick, mainly because Seungcheol was the world’s biggest worrywart and called her constantly when he couldn’t be there while she wasn’t feeling her best.

So you had driven to his place, to hopefully ease some of her suffering (and Seungcheol’s), completely forgetting who he lived with. To your shock, it was Jeonghan who answered the door. “Ah, princess,” he’d exclaimed. “Welcome.”

The way he’d beamed when he saw you was infuriating. Peeking around his shoulder, you made venomous eye contact with Hani, who was sitting in a heap on the couch, her eyes red and watery with her illness. “How are you?” you asked, pointedly stepping around Jeonghan to go to her.

“I’m suffering,” she said. “But Jeonghan has been taking really good care of me.”

“Has he, now,” you’d said in a deadpan voice.

“Well, now that you’re here, I need to run some errands,” Jeonghan had said, quickly excusing himself to go to the grocery store. You had tended to Hani while he left, not turning when he’d called a goodbye over his shoulder as he stepped out into the night.

Watching Hani was mostly uneventful. You brought her water when she finished her glass and watched TV together until Seungcheol came back. As you’d stood up to leave Hani and Seungcheol, who were snuggled together on the couch, Hani asked if you would grab the ibuprofen out of Jeonghan’s bathroom.

You had been surprised (and a little annoyed) at how clean it was inside, but he had left his toothbrush out on the counter, which immediately made you think of the fluorescent blue dye you had in your bag that you had needed for a recent experiment in your geology class. The dye, coincidentally, was colorless until it reacted to saliva, and stained everything around it a shocking shade of blue for several hours before fading completely. You had tried to be good, you really had -- you’d almost left the bathroom without doing anything to the toothbrush -- but there was a petty streak in you that desperately wanted Jeonghan to feel even one bit as foolish as he’d made you feel. Plus, when were you ever going to get an opportunity like this again?

This had been the beginning of the prank war between you and Jeonghan. The following week, you’d come home to a flock of confused pigeons trapped in your apartment. “Where did he even get a flock of pigeons?” you had muttered as you mopped your hardwood floors free of all the lingering gifts that the birds had left for you.

“Beats me,” Hani said, spraying your tabletop with cleanser. “But I think this is a good learning experience for you. Jeonghan is really sweet, but he’s competitive, and he’ll do anything to win.”

“Oh, but I’m the exact same way,” you’d told her with a grim determination.

And so, it had continued. One week you were swapping out Jeonghan’s bar of soap for one that was almost identical but had a particularly itchy ingredient, the next week Jeonghan rearranged the letters on your keyboard and made it nearly impossible for you to finish your assignments in time, the week following you stole his textbooks and replaced them with poorly written erotic novels.

The pranks had only escalated the academic rivalry you’d had, especially as the two of you had striven to derail the other. When the exam results came out, you were elated to learn that despite Jeonghan’s efforts, you had come out of the semester at the top of the class — with Jeonghan just below you at number 2, by .02 points. Now, as you were about to fly to Hani’s birthday ball during spring break, your elation has been crushed. “Are you still going to come?” Hani asks, giving you her big sad eyes that you can’t say no to.

And because this is Hani, who knows you better than anyone and has always been there for you, you already know what you have to say. “Of course I’m going to come,” you reassure her. “It’s your birthday. I suppose I knew he’d probably end up deciding to come. But I’ll be darned if I let a man get between us.” You can’t suppress an eye roll. “Especially not that man.”

“You’re the best!” Hani exclaims. “Do you have a dress yet?”

“I have a few options,” you say. “I’ll take them with me so we can try things on together and you can help me choose.” You grin at her squeal of delight and try not to think about all the strategizing you’re going to have to do to avoid Jeonghan at the ball.

******

“You’ve got to be kidding,” you groan.

Jeonghan grins from the seat beside yours. “What? Did you want the window seat?” he asks, pointing out the small window of the airplane. It’s one of those huge jets with two stories, built for a seventeen-hour flight across the world, and yet, of all the seats you could be sitting in, of course Jeonghan is sitting in the next one over.

You huff as you sit down. “Why didn’t you fly with Cheol?”

“He flew with Hani,” Jeonghan replies. “I didn’t want to third-wheel for that many hours in a row.”

That’s honestly pretty fair, but you can’t let him see you agree, so you roll your eyes. “Well, this is actually good. I needed to talk to you.”

“About?”

“The ball. We have to call a truce on our war.”

“Our war?” Jeonghan repeats with a raised eyebrow.

You clear your throat. “Our...rivalry.”

“I would call it a ‘friendly competition’,” he tells you.

“It’s really not that friendly,” you snap, and rifle in your bag for your headphones. “And it doesn’t matter what you call it, we just need to be well-behaved and civil during the ball because I will not have you or anyone else ruining Hani’s birthday party.”

“Well, I can’t promise to be well-behaved, but I promise I won’t ruin Hani’s party,” he comforts.

You shake your head. “I guess that’s the best I could really hope for,” you grumble. Unable to locate your headphones, you toss your bag under your seat in frustration.

“What did that poor bag ever do to you?” Jeonghan asks.

“I can’t find my headphones,” you hiss.

“I brought an extra pair.”

You stare at him. “You did not.”

“I truly, truly did,” he says. “Would you like to use them?”

“What will it cost me?”

“Nothing,” he says, grinning. “Let’s call it a mark of our truce.” He pulls them out of his bag and hands them to you, and you accept them, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Do they zap your ears when you put them in?” you ask nervously.

“No,” he says, taking one bud and putting it in his own ear. “Just regular old headphones.”

So you put one of them in, bracing yourself. Nothing happens, but the way Jeonghan is watching you is making you worried. “Forgive me if I’m a little wary after the pen incident.” (You were, of course, referring to a prank Jeonghan had pulled where he had replaced your pen with one that shocked you at random intervals.)

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “I’m not trying to make your life miserable, princess. Actually, right now, I’m trying to make your life easier.” He leans back against his seat’s headrest and closes his eyes. “It’s not going to kill you to trust me a little.”

You shoot him a dubious look before acquiescing, slipping the other bud into your ear. No shock. You decide he’s probably telling the truth, and you listen to an audiobook while you wait for the plane to take off.

Hours later, after you’ve watched the sunset fade to black outside Jeonghan’s window, and after watching two movies and dozing off during a third, you jolt awake to a sudden dip of the plane. Blinking rapidly, you try to make sense of your surroundings, and the first thing you register is a hand clasping your own.

You look over, mortified, to see Jeonghan staring at you. But instead of the sneer you expected, his expression is serious and kind. “Are you okay?” he asks, squeezing your hand comfortingly.

“I’m fine,” you say, although your voice is shaking and you can’t bring yourself to let go of his hand even though it’s embarrassing.

“You’re scared of flying?” he asks you quietly.

“Not enough to not do it,” you reply. Maybe it’s the look in his eyes that makes you think that you’ve stepped outside the incessant teasing that has been the hallmark of your relationship with this man, but you find yourself saying, “I feel like I should be used to it already.” Immediately you begin to worry about how Jeonghan might use this weakness against you, but he just looks at you.

“Well, if it makes any difference,” he finally says, “you’re handling it pretty well.” He gives your hand a squeeze.

This is just too weird. The weirdest part is, it doesn’t feel weird at all -- not talking with him, not holding his hand, not even the way he looks at you. For a second, you remember how intently Jeonghan had listened to you speak at that dinner all those months ago. This seems much more like the person you thought he was before you’d found out he’d destroyed you in an anonymous online debate. And, terrifyingly, this was a person you could see yourself falling deeply into, with no hope of escape.

The plane lurches again, and you close your eyes and breathe deeply through your nose. A low chuckle from Jeonghan makes you shoot him an annoyed look.

He shrugs. “Sorry,” he says. “I don’t mean to laugh at you, I’m just surprised.”

“Why?” you ask through gritted teeth.

“Because,” he says, as though choosing his words very carefully. “You don’t strike me as the kind of person who’s scared of anything.”

His tone is -- dare you say it? -- respectful, almost awed, full of admiration.

“Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you remind him, swallowing nervously.

He purses his lips. “Sad, but true.”

“What do you mean?” you ask.

He leans back in his seat again, closing his eyes. “Figure it out, princess,” he whispers, before falling asleep with your hand clenched around his.

******

The night before the ball, you’re on a video chat with your little sister when your dad enters the frame.

“How’s my girl doing?” the king asks, and you have to smile. Your dad is really an amazing leader, and an even better dad.

“I’m good,” you say. “Just three more days before I’m home!”

“We’re so excited to have you back,” your sister chimes in, and your dad nods enthusiastically.

“Can I have a word with your sister?” your dad asks her, and she skips away with a quick “bye!”

“What’s up?” you ask.

“There’s been a little bit of tension on the mainland lately,” your dad confesses. “Nothing too concerning, but we want to nip it in the bud. I think it’s time for you to think about your future.”

You know when he says “future” he means “marriage”, and your heart sinks. As the eldest child, you will inherit the crown once your father retires. His hair and beard are grayer every time you see him, and you’ve known for awhile that he’s feeling a bit exhausted. “I am thinking about it,” you admit. “I’ve been going on dates.”

“Anything promising?” your dad asks hopefully.

You fiddle with your shirt hem, hesitating before you answer. The truth is, only one date you’ve been on since college is memorable at all. You try not to think about Jeonghan’s smirk and the way he’d made you laugh and holding his hand on basically the entire seventeen-hour flight over and most importantly his lips against yours in that dusty custodian’s closet before shaking your head. “Not really,” you confess. “Most politicians are really boring.”

Your dad scoffs. “Tell me about it.” He sighs. “Well, I’m not trying to force you into anything, but maybe the ball can be a good networking event for you. I heard that Prince Chan will be there.”

Prince Chan was internationally famous for being a real-life “Prince Charming” -- the perfect gentleman, always smiling, handsome as a fairytale prince. Your country was off his country’s southern coast, so his home was close to yours. “That might be a good political move.”

“And Prince Seungcheol will be there, and the general’s son, I forget his name...” Your dad trails off, but you know who he means, and you rush to put an end to those thoughts.

“Seungcheol is dating Hani,” you remind your dad quickly. “And Jeonghan -- the general’s son -- is...not an option either.”

“Okay,” your dad says, not catching the unspoken information in your tone. “Well, you’ll have boots on the ground, so just try, okay? And we can talk about it when you get back.”

You finish your talk and hang up, looking up at the vaulted ceiling of your guest bedroom in Hani’s parents’ palace. It was a curse to be the heir to the throne sometimes. The weight of your mantle was often so heavy it felt crushing. Your country was a small one, inhabited by gentle people. Military power, the nuances of war, conquest — none of these things were built into your culture. You weren’t sure what you’d do if things went south.

Sighing, you head to the bathroom to start getting ready for bed. When you emerge from your shower and as you’re brushing your hair, the wind starts to pick up from outside. By the time you get into bed, a storm is raging outside. This, coupled with the thoughts swirling relentlessly around you head, has you thoroughly wound up and incapable of sleeping.

So you wrap yourself in a dressing gown and head up the corridor toward the spiral staircase that leads to the library. One thing that always helps you sleep is a familiar book. You wander between the dim shelves, only lit by a few strategically placed lamps, as the thunder gets louder and louder. Finally, you’re able to locate a copy of Frances Hodgson Burnett’s Secret Garden, which you take from the shelf, cozying up in a large armchair to read by one of the lamps.

A few pages in, you’re nearly startled to death by a voice from behind you. “What are you doing awake?”

You jump out of the chair and whirl around. “Jeonghan!” you whisper-shout. “For the love of all that is holy, you scared me.”

He gives a small smile. “Sorry, princess.” He’s also in his PJs, his shoulder-length hair still wet from a shower, and there are dark circles under his eyes that make him look more gaunt and melancholy than usual — a vampire rather than his standard fairy. It’s especially pronounced in the low lamplight.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says simply.

“Why not?”

“‘Cause you couldn’t sleep. I sensed you coming in here.”

You scoff. “What nonsense,” you say.

“I’m serious. We’re soulmates.” Jeonghan’s grin has turned sly.

“Don’t be difficult,” you snap. “Was there a real reason you wanted to share, or — ?”

But then a bolt of lightning briefly illuminates the library in bright white light. The following clap of thunder is so loud it seems to shake the library. Jeonghan cringes and claps his hands to his ears before eyeing you warily.

You point a finger at him. “You’re scared of thunderstorms?” you guess.

He blushes. “Scared is a strong word.”

He cowers as the lightning flashes again, plugging his ears preemptively to avoid the massive clap of thunder. “You’re totally terrified,” you say when he finally takes his fingers out of his ears. “Well, this is just perfect.”

“That seems like a strong word, too,” he grumbles, coming to sit in the chair next to yours. “Perfect, how?”

“Now I know your weakness, and you know mine,” you explain, turning your attention back to your book. “We’re even.”

You couldn’t be more shocked when Jeonghan snakes a cold hand onto your wrist. When you gape at him, he looks at you with wide, innocent eyes. “I held your hand during the turbulence,” he reminds you. “So this is actually how you get even.”

This is hard to argue with, so you just keep reading with his fingers wrapped around your hand. “Do what you need to do, pretty boy,” you sigh.

His sharp intake of air makes you look up from your book. “What?”

“You need to stop calling me that,” Jeonghan says quietly.

“Or what?” you say, shutting your book with a snap.

“Or I’ll lose my mind,” he says in a strained tone. His jaw is clenched, his cheeks are flushed, and his palm on your wrist has become clammy with sweat. “I thought it would be easier to be close to you, but you insist on making my life harder, don’t you?”

This hits you like a punch in the gut. Glaring, you wrench your hand from Jeonghan’s grasp. “You don’t have to talk to me, Jeonghan. It’s perfectly alright for you to ignore me if it’s that hard for you to stand interacting with me.” Suddenly the library doesn’t feel big enough for you and Jeonghan to occupy the space at the same time -- as if all the air has been sucked out of the room. You jump from the armchair and turn on your heel, your robe blowing out behind you.

But Jeonghan is following you again -- and it’s so reminiscent of that first night that you almost laugh. “I don’t understand how you’re not as tortured as I am,” he calls after you. “That’s part of what makes me so insane.”

“Who says I’m not? You’re absolutely agonizing to be around,” you shoot back over your shoulder.

“No, you don’t understand,” he says, and he catches you by the arm, whirling you around so that you face him. You try to shake free, but his grip is iron-strong. “It’s like you’re barely affected by my presence. You don’t feel this constant draw -- this constant need to --

“To what, Jeonghan?” you ask, taking a step forward. “Finish the sentence. To what?”

Your faces are inches apart, the tension between you so thick you could cut it with a knife, and Jeonghan flexes his jaw and swallows hard before his gaze flicks down to your lips. You’re breathing too hard, your pulse too quick, your face hot. He inches closer -- the tips of your noses nearly touching, and when he whispers, it’s in a husky tone that sends chills down your spine. “It’s impossible for me to understand how you don’t seem to think about what happened between us. For you, it’s like it never happened. For me...I think about it every day.”

He’s so close you can smell the peppermint toothpaste on his breath. So close that if you even slightly moved forward, your lips would meet.

And then lightning strikes again. Jeonghan lets go of your arm, takes a step back, nods to you like he would an acquaintance from class, and leaves you alone in the library, where you lean, trembling, against a bookshelf just as the more distant clap of thunder rings out. You have to place a hand over your chest to soothe the frantic beating of your heart. The rest of the night is sleepless -- you toss and turn, wondering what on earth has just happened between you and Jeonghan.

******

“Is Hani ready?” Seungcheol asks, meeting you halfway up the stairs.

“Almost,” you say, adjusting your pearl necklace so the clasp is in the back. “And she gave me explicit instructions that you are to stay at the bottom of the stairs. She wants that movie moment. And you are going to give it to her, because it’s her birthday.”

Seungcheol follows you back down the stairs. “So, Jeonghan’s been weird today,” he says, a question in his tone.

“He’s always weird,” you say shortly.

“Weirder than usual. You look great, by the way,” he tells you, gesturing at the glittering white dress you’re wearing. It hugs your frame with a corseted top, cascading like sea foam down your hips and ending in a train. Hani had picked it out, saying that it matched your small pearl-encrusted crown the best, but you also suspected that she knew it was your most devastating look.

“Thanks,” you say to Seungcheol. “Wait until you see Hani.”

He’s so down bad he even smiles just at the sound of her name. “I can’t wait.”

“And about Jeonghan,” you continue. “Did he tell you -- anything?”

Seungcheol gives you a stern look. “Should he have? Did anything happen last night?”

“There was a thunderstorm,” you say quickly.

“Ah,” Seungcheol says, his gaze a little too understanding. “Jeonghan is scared of thunderstorms.”

You nod, refusing to answer the question he isn’t asking. Luckily, you’re saved by the arrival of Hani at the top of the stairs, looking absolutely stunning in the prettiest blue dress. Seungcheol’s whole face transforms into a picture of joy. “Wow,” he breathes.

You can see her beaming from here. You decide to let them have their moment by themselves, and instead push through the magnificent double doors into the ballroom. As your eyes scan the crowd, you try to believe that you’re not looking for Jeonghan, but there has been a knot in your chest since last night, and you somehow sense he is the only person who can do anything about it. Before landing on Jeonghan, though, your eyes land on Prince Chan. You remember your dad’s request and plaster on your most winning smile as you approach him.

“Hello, Prince Chan,” you say, curtsying low to him. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

He’s just as handsome as everyone has said, and he’s smiling just as kindly as you’d expect. “It’s a beautiful party,” he says. “The hostess is your best friend, right?”

“She is,” you confirm. “Princess Hani is wonderful. Have you ever met her?”

“Only a handful of times. We were kids,” he explains. “But everyone speaks highly of her.”

You nod. “So, how are things on the mainland?” you ask, changing the subject.

You pass a few pleasant minutes discussing his interests, the state of his country’s affairs, and you. After awhile, a very territorial woman comes to stand between you and Prince Chan, interrupting your conversation. He shoots you an apologetic look over her shoulder, and you wave him off with a small smile and a bow, backing away.

“Already causing problems, I see,” says a familiar voice.

You turn to see him -- Jeonghan, in his decorated military uniform, looking far more handsome and ethereal than he had any right to. You stick up your chin. “Well, it wasn’t my intention,” you say. “He was standing alone.”

“What a kind soul you are,” Jeonghan says drily as Hani makes her grand entrance.

You pause in your bickering to applaud her, beaming and embracing her as she comes to greet you. “Do you feel beautiful?” you ask her.

“Yes, I do,” she tells you. “Thank you for always being here.”

After she walks away to greet her other guests, you turn back to Jeonghan. “So, do you have anything else to say to me? Or do you have more pigeons to sedate and put in my bedroom?”

He grins. “As tempting as that is, I have plenty more to say to you.”

Just then, the music starts, and before Jeonghan can offer you his arm to escort you onto the floor, you are turning to the nearest passing gentleman and asking him to dance. Jeonghan follows suit, escorting a pretty redhead in a yellow dress into the space right beside you. As you begin the steps of the dance, you make polite conversation with your partner, whose name you have already forgotten. Jeonghan seems to be vaguely paying attention to his own partner as she rambles on good-naturedly, but his eyes never leave you. His scorching looks from across the dance column have heat rising in your cheeks and the back of your neck, and a funny swooping feeling in your stomach, almost like you’ve done a massive drop on a roller coaster.

At the end of the dance, you politely bow to your partner and are just about to scurry away when Jeonghan catches your hand. “One dance,” he begs. “Please.”

And his eyes are searing with some barely-concealed passion, his skin unnecessarily flushed and his jaw set in a hard line, and you open your mouth — to refuse him, you remind yourself — but nothing comes out, leaving Jeonghan free to pull you back into the dance floor and into his arms for the waltz.

You have done a simple waltz a thousand times — maybe hundreds of thousands at this point. Your feet are familiar with the steps and the turns. It’s simple enough to do. But waltzing with Jeonghan is like trying to speak a language you’ve never heard before. Pressed against his body, his hand burning into the small of your back through your dress, you find yourself unable to meet his eyes as he leads you through the steps. Something about him holding you like this is reminding you forcefully of that distant janitor’s closet, and this is making it impossible for you to look at him for fear of what it might do to you. So, with your heart pounding in your ears, you fixate on the top button of Jeonghan’s uniform and let him whirl you around, until it feels like everything else has faded away but the music and his arms around you. You can feel the weight of his gaze, but you don’t look up until the very last strains of the song are fading away.

And as you do, Jeonghan’s angelic face breaks into a smile that could make the devil repent. He’s so unbearably beautiful that you actually feel your breath hiss out of you, stolen by his smile. You realize that it doesn’t matter how much you pranked him or ignored him or rejected him or lied to yourself — there was absolutely nothing that could have kept you from falling in love with him.

Just at this moment of revelation, someone taps Jeonghan’s shoulder. “Sorry to interrupt,” Prince Chan says.

“It’s no trouble,” Jeonghan says. He’s still partially holding you in his arms, and you are still struggling to remember how to breathe, but Prince Chan seems not to notice or care.

“Would you mind if I had the next dance?” he asks, looking between the two of you.

You find it impossible to speak, so you just nod in assent. Jeonghan gives your hand to Chan, looking mildly crestfallen, and you try to get your crap together before the music starts.

You successfully collect yourself enough to look Prince Chan in the face. He’s smiling at you, but his eyes are a little too understanding. “Jeonghan’s great, huh?” he asks.

You try to laugh, but it comes out choked and awkward. “He’s a bit too charming for his own good,” is all you’re willing to admit.

Chan nods in agreement. “He’s interesting. Most people like to show their very best selves to others, and you find out the bad stuff the more you get to know them. But Jeonghan kind of does the opposite.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he’ll be crafty and cunning up front, but he’s actually very kind. And you only get to see that if you get close to him.”

“How do you know?” you ask.

Chan glances over at Jeonghan. “I actually stayed with his family for a month while my mother was sick,” he explains. “Jeonghan had gone through something similar, and he was a big help to me. Of course he still drove me crazy sometimes,” he adds with a laugh, “but he’s solid gold all the way through. You just have to crack him open a bit to see it.”

You’re silent, chewing on this information, when all of a sudden, someone tosses the contents of their wine glass at you, coating your gown in a deep red stain. You gasp and look over to see Jeonghan with his current dance partner -- who is holding her empty wine glass and grinning wickedly at you. You recognize her as the one who interrupted your earlier conversation with Chan. “Oops,” she says.

Your eyes bounce between Jeonghan and the girl. “I need to go change,” you say to Chan. “Please excuse me.”

Chan’s glaring at the girl, and he nods to acknowledge he heard you. You immediately turn away from Jeonghan’s wide-eyed stare, hugging your arms to your chest and heading straight for Hani and Seungcheol. “Some psycho threw her wine on me,” you whisper to her. “I’m sorry, I have to go.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” she asks with concern.

You muster a weak smile. “No, you stay and enjoy your party.”

“I’m going to go escort the psycho out of here,” Seungcheol says, his eyes focused behind you on where you’ve left Chan and the girl and Jeonghan. You look over your shoulder to see Jeonghan leaning in close to the girl and whispering something in her ear, and this is the final straw. A part of you wonders if he planned it himself -- even after you asked him not to ruin things. So you turn on your heel and flee from the ballroom, running up the stairs and heading toward the library.

The tears start the minute you cross the threshold. You hate crying, and hate being a cliche damsel in distress, but the lack of sleep, the confusion about your own feelings, and the blatant bullying you’ve experienced have overwhelmed you, and it’s hard to stop yourself from collapsing into full-blown sobs. You only have a few seconds to cry by yourself between the bookshelves, however, before you hear someone’s footsteps sprinting into the library.

“Princess?”

Oh, no.

You try not to make any noise so that he won’t find you, but Jeonghan still rounds the corner and finds you. You immediately turn your back to him, wiping your eyes as you face the bookshelf. You can hear him approaching you slowly. “Princess?” he repeats.

You slowly turn over your shoulder to face him, looking him in the eye. You know you probably look ridiculous, but you still have to ask. “Was that your idea of a prank?” you say in a hard voice.

“Not at all,” he replies, his voice equally sharp. “Seungcheol and I threw her out ourselves.”

“You did?” you squeak.

He gives you a sad smile. “Of course. She’s never going to be within fifty miles of you ever again if I can help it.”

You nod, looking at your feet. “Well, that’s good. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Jeonghan hesitates, then takes another step forward. “I need to talk to you,” he says.

You avoid his gaze and back up a little, right into the bookshelf. “I don’t see what we have left to talk about,” you hedge.

“Are we back to the bickering?” he asks, sounding frustrated. He steps forward again, nearly toe-to-toe with you, and brings a hand up to your chin, tugging on it gently. “Need you to look at me, princess.”

You lift your eyes to him and are once again overwhelmed by his closeness. You can’t help the deep breath you take at the sight of him. “Why do you keep pretending you hate me?” Jeonghan asks you quietly.

“What do you mean?” you reply.

“I know you don’t really hate me,” he explains. “I’ve known it for months. But I just don’t know why you can’t admit it to yourself. I wish you’d just let it go.” When you don’t reply, he sighs. “I’ve never met anyone as stubborn as you. You truly have no equal.”

Your emotions are so overwhelming and close to the surface that this light barb stings a lot more than Jeonghan probably intended. And this sends you over the edge. You bat his hand away and whisper-yell, “Well, you’re selfish, and conceited, and self-important, and conniving, and I don’t know why I --”

But you stop yourself before you give yourself away. Jeonghan impulsively brings his hands to both sides of your face, trapping you in. “Finish the sentence,” he demands. “You don’t know why you...what?”

But the answer won’t come, stuck between your heart and your voicebox, your stubborn mind trying fruitlessly to bar Jeonghan from knowing the truth. But, as is always the case in all the love stories you’ve ever read, the heart is too strong for the mind, and for a moment, it overcomes all rational thought and takes control over your hands. You grab Jeonghan by the collar and pull his lips to yours.

No amount of shock could keep Jeonghan from responding to your kiss. Ever quick on his feet, he brings a hand to the back of your neck so that he can move you in just the way he wants to, and you, for the first time in forever, let go of your need to sort through all your feelings and make them make sense, and give in to your heart entirely. You don't have to think with Jeonghan -- he takes charge in a way that makes your knees feel weak, and you cling to him desperately to avoid toppling over. Jeonghan kisses with even more passion than he had in that closet, with enough fire that you think you both might combust. His lips are searing and insistent, and you melt into his arms. Instinctively, you tangle your fingers in his hair, and he gives a throaty chuckle. “Careful, princess,” he whispers between kisses, and you hum against his lips in bliss.

Eventually, his kisses turn soft and sweet, slowing down to a pace where you can both catch your breath. And then he pulls away. The sight of him with his hair ruffled from your hands and his cheeks flushed and his eyes bright makes you giggle, and he beams at you, his gaze flicking to your lips again. “Wait,” you say before he can kiss you again. “I like you.”

“Duh,” he says with a laugh in his voice.

You swat his arm. “I mean it. I don’t understand how, or why, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the night we met. And compared to you, everyone seems so...dull.” He’s smirking now, and you swat at him again. “Stop it! I’m trying to be sincere.”

“I can’t help it,” he complains, and he’s looking at you so fondly that it’s dangerous. “You’re so cute. And I love to listen to you speak, but when you speak you move your mouth, and suddenly that’s just become so incredibly distracting for me.”

“My lips are distracting?” you repeat, wrinkling your nose in disgust at how corny it is.

“Well, they always were,” Jeonghan admits. “But right now...” He leans in, gives you a peck, and then runs a hand through his disheveled hair and groans. “Oh, it’s nearly too much.”

You giggle again. “You’re truly obsessed with me, aren’t you?”

“Embarrassingly so,” he says proudly. “Why else do you think I bribed the person who would’ve sat next to you on the plane to take my seat on Seungcheol and Hani’s flight?”

“You switched flights to travel with me?” Yesterday, this would’ve been annoying to learn -- but now, it’s a little endearing.

He nods. “And I switched classes so that I could take them with you. I’m still going to do that until we graduate, mind you, so if you could please avoid the eight o’clock classes, I would appreciate that so much.”

You tsk in fond exasperation at him. “And all of this time, you didn’t think to tell me that you’re --”

“Head over heels for you? Well, I sort of felt like it probably wouldn’t have gone over well. So I bided my time. And it was worth the wait,” he says, clasping one of your hands to his chest. “There’s absolutely no one like you, princess. You’re the best person I’ve ever met.”

You shake your head, although on the inside you feel like angels are singing. “What an end to our war,” you say, snaking your arms around Jeonghan’s shoulders.

“War is such a strong word,” Jeonghan complains. “It was barely a scuffle.”

“You filled my room with pigeons.”

“And that was low-hanging fruit for me.”

“You’re shameless.”

“Entirely,” he agrees. “Which is why I have no plans to return to that ball anytime soon.” He gives you a mischievous smile and once again looks at your lips.

“I can’t miss my best friend’s entire birthday party,” you remind him, playing with a lock of his hair shyly.

“Hmm,” he says thoughtfully. “That is a predicament. Might I suggest a compromise?”

“Indubitably,” you say, playing along with his posh tone.

He scoffs. “We go back in an hour. We stay to watch her open her gifts. And then we meet back here.”

“To do what?” you ask him, giving him your own dangerous grin.

“What an excellent question, princess,” he says, leaning in and kissing you deeply and slowly before pulling away just slightly and brushing a stray hair from your face. “I guess we’ll have to play it by ear,” he finally tells you in a low voice. “How does that sound?”

“It sounds perfect,” you sigh, and then you smirk at him. “Pretty boy,” you add as an afterthought.

His eyes darken. “I’m going to make you regret that,” he threatens. And as he kisses you into oblivion once again, you seriously doubt it.

#seventeen #svt #svt fic #svt fanfic #svt imagines #svt x reader #jeonghan #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan x you

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andraxicated · 11 months

Text

Married to Wild Eyes

Pairings: Jing Yuan x f! reader

Synopsis: Your husband returns home and rails you after he deduces something that you've hidden from him.

a/n: this Wild Eyes manhwa popped up on my tiktok fyp with those iconic pwop and squelch panels. i'm like...interesting~

+ smut always takes so long for me to write because I always have to close the tab and run a lap around the house when I start on the nasty stuff.

wc: 4.9k (porn with some kinda plot)

will proofread in the morning😭

General Jing Yuan was a kind man to all, logical and strategic are only a few of the praises you hear for him. After all, he's the reason that the Xianzhou enjoys many years of peace to come. But just as the praises that resound from people's mouths—and the peace he brings by fulfilling his military duty, none of it compares to the lewd praises and ecstasy he delivers as he fulfills his duty to you as your husband.

"Augh~ Yuan, right there! F-fuck keep on hitting it-n-not too deep!" You babble a mix of words as you bounce on his cock, placing your shaky hands on his shoulders that are about to slip. Still, you try your best to regulate the rhythm with your eyes closed that Jing Yuan finds a little too slow for his liking. But who he is to deprive you of your wants? Although, he did find it unusual that you asked to top for a more sensual pace than him railing you into the mattress.

"Come on love, show me how good you can ride."

Jing Yuan does his part by thrusting up his lower body into you, abs flexing as he held tightly onto your waist. It then sent you opening your eyes, tears coming onto your waterline with your mouth agape, body sinking down on his fat cock to quell the itch brought by your hormones.

"You need help?" He notices how you're struggling to move and you nod. It seems like you want to go on but your legs are sore and shaking.

Your cunt throbs crazily and has Jing Yuan whipped, he lifts you by the hips and brings you down only to the length you can take. "I-I'll go faster!" You squeal, chasing the incoming high that has both of you reaching for the other's lips, making a messy exchange of saliva as his cock repeatedly coaxes your walls to make way. Jing Yuan's grip tightens and you immediately remove them, not wanting to feel his strong hold near your stomach. Instead, you relocate his hands to your breasts, moaning when he lightly squeezed. Much to his puzzlement at your abrupt removal of his hands, for now, he'll set his confusion aside just to kiss you softly, tucking away the hair that falls on your face.

"You look beautiful" His voice reverberates, praise going straight to your pussy.

"Do I, general?" You whisper as you elicit a moan when the bulbous head hits your spot.

"Believe me. That's why you're the one on top of me, isn't it?" Jing Yuan teases with a hearty laugh. He finds it all mesmerizing to see his dear wife falling apart above him. These skin-slapping sounds, the lewd faces you make, and the sight of him repeatedly disappearing into your folds have him losing the strength in holding back for your sake. He began to plump upwards at a speed that has your vision rocking and your nails finding expanse at his chest.

You continue to impale yourself on his cock, relishing in the sensation of being filled up repeatedly. Your lower belly starts to feel a coiling tension, one you're all too familiar with since the wedding night. And the sight of your husband's face going red with his lip bit was the one that pushed you to the edge.

The only thing you could say was a whimper of his name "Jing yuan—!", and then had a euphoric urge to close your eyes, but the sudden shift of his golden orbs from where you're connected to your own is what compels you to stare at him while you finish.

You look dumb and mesmerized above him, cunt soaking his length from your release, and the one thought behind your lovestruck gaze was the title that people called him.

"Wild Eyes"

You now know why he's dubbed a ridiculous name such as "wild eyes". The name is deemed true on the battlefield when he's in action, leading the alliance to victory and inflicting enemies with fear when he summons the Lightning Lord. And now it shows most true when he's in bed, breeding his lovely wife as he should.

"You okay, darling?" He asked, half-amused with shaky breaths. His thrusts suddenly slow down, groaning, only to shoot warm cum inside you as you fall down on his chest and take what he's giving you.

After being cleaned up, both of you settle on the bed and then you notice the mini cakes settled on a platter. The sudden cravings appear to be strong that you gradually reach out for the snack.

"I prepared those for you. I heard you've taken a liking to sweets. You like it?" Jing Yuan suddenly speaks and you look over to him. He's half-covered by the sheets, displaying his abs and war scars unabashed. But then you've seen his body multiple times now, what's there to be ashamed of?

Your cheeks burn at the view so you focus instead on savoring the sweetness. "I like it. Thank you for this."

Jing Yuan sighs while looking fondly at you. He has to leave you before dawn to attend the subjugation of the Stellaron monsters, one that will probably take days or perhaps weeks before he comes home to you. And Jing Yuan is currently facing the dilemma of how to break the news to you—

"You're going tomorrow, right? The mara-struck have been increasing in numbers along with the monsters that suddenly seem to appear out of nowhere." You take the words out of his mouth, looking over at him to see his eyes rounded in shock. "Jing Yuan, you're needed. So you should go, no need to feel guilty"

"Well I'm feeling guilty, I heard you've been sick every morning and I'm not there to take care of you. Perhaps I should call for the best physician in the Luofu? "

You smile yet it didn't reach the ends of your lips. "My maids take care of me and besides, the attending physician is fine."

"I'm your husband, they're taking my job." He sighs, hair falling in front of his face that you immediately tuck away. He takes it as an opportunity to grab your hand and kiss the back of your palm, keeping those golden eyes on you all the while.

You could feel yourself shrink from the intensity of his gaze. It felt so weird that it kind of tickled your stomach and nerves in a good way.

"Dearest (y/n), I don't want you to feel lonely in this manor. I know that it's my fault that we haven't been moving forward as we talked about but-" He suddenly gets cut off by you pressing your lips to his soft ones. You had your eyes closed to protect yourself from his eyes because you don't know if your heart will be able to take that gaze.

You wanted to be upset, you had every right to be upset as his wife. You wanted to say "I'm used to it" with a tone that demands coaxing and cuddles before you cry. You wanted so much time with him despite being married as strangers. Yet he has a responsibility to the people, one that often kept him away from the confines of your room—from your arms.

You could only force yourself to be mature about it and push down the urge to cling.

"Jing Yuan, we'll have plenty of time to be with each other. Besides, I have my maids to keep me company. I won't be lonely." You always knew you were amazing with lies but it took great effort to keep your voice from breaking. You hope he doesn't notice the glimmer of water in your eyes.

"And I-"

You wanted to tell him the good news but it seemingly got stuck in your throat.

"Hmm?"

You stopped yourself from speaking, quickly changing your words in a fit of internal panic.

"—want to say come back soon. Safely."

Jing Yuan noticed you wanted to say something else but he chose not to dwell on it. He'll just wait for you to tell him whatever it is.

"I will" He says before leaning in to kiss you, his large hands snake to your ear to the back of your head, keeping you firm within his lips as he lays you down for another round or two.

As soon as the maids heard the large patter of Jing Yuan's boots, they immediately scurried to your bedroom, hushed whispers of your name as she shakes you gently from your sleep.

"My lady! The general is now leaving the house! Hurry!" She says and you immediately wake up to find your robes and see him off. You knew he wouldn't wake you up for the sake of rest but who knows when will you see him again? The subjugation takes weeks or months if you're unlucky and from what you've heard, the current situation of the Xianzhou isn't pretty.

You could only whisper a prayer as you watch Jing Yuan's back go further away along with a gentle caress to your stomach.

"Let's hope he comes home in a week...or less" You chuckle and shake your head, finding it funny to talk to the child inside you. So this was the little surprise that Fu Xuan keeps on being cryptic about.

Jing Yuan could go on further but the stamina of the Cloud Knights wasn't exactly quite like his. He settles them down for rest and he had hoped to take the time to nap but a knight suddenly came over that he couldn't refuse. He's about to doze off but it seemed like he had to listen to his subordinate.

The knight bowed as a greeting, a wide grin splattered on his face. "General, I'm here to thank you on behalf of my family for saving them from the attacks last month. My mother almost fainted upon hearing it because apparently, my sister was pregnant during that time. It's only because of my incompetence that I failed to protect her that you had to step in-"

"Slow down young man." Jing Yuan commands and the knight shuts himself immediately. "No incompetent one becomes a Cloud Knight, we all undergo rigorous training to ensure that we're worthy of defending the Luofu."

The young man nods, apologizing for his words.

"And your sister's pregnant you say? How is she then?" Jing Yuan is not one to meddle in somebody else's personal life but he's just tiny curious about this particular matter.

"She's well, general. Now that she's far in, her cravings for sweets became worse along with the morning sickness. She's nauseous at the smell of some food—General? Are you all right?"

Those little details present during that afternoon suddenly came slapping him in the face for not realizing sooner.

Jing Yuan is a fool. He had become a father and he had no idea at all.

"Excuse me. I need to talk to Yanqing for a while." He flashed a smile and nod before scurrying over to the boy dressed in blue.

"General? What's the matter?" He noticed his master's face in distress, although rare, Yanqing has seen it every time something concerns you. It's natural for him to mirror the expression of the general as the boy sees you as his mother figure.

"Yanqing go back to the city at once. I will take charge of here, we should be coming back in three days."

"Three days? But general-"

"(y/n) is with child. Go protect her in my stead."

And that's how you come to see the blonde-haired boy at your door. You immediately came rushing when the maids told you Yanqing arrived at the manor. Every worst-case scenario suddenly came flashing like reels in your mind. Your heart was pounding like crazy as you await Yanqing's response to your question.

"Weren't you supposed to be in the expedition? W-where is a Jingyuan?" Your throat felt constricted due to the immense panic you felt since the boy returned home alone. Usually, after a long expedition, he comes home to your abode with your husband ahead of him. Yet this time the boy had a conflicted expression that worsened your anxieties.

"The general sent me ahead of them...because he found out something about you. He asked me to protect you that's why I'm here, I'll be staying until the general returns." Yanqing says sheepishly and you realize he's beating around the bush.

"What did he find out? I don't understand."

"Y-you're..." He struggled to find the words until, finally he spoke while scratching the back of his head. "You're pregnant. The general found out."

How in the world did he? You were pretty sure he remained clueless until he left. The thoughts of his reactions plagued you at night as you rub your belly. You only hope keeping this news doesn't anger him. If he knew of your condition before departing, he'd be extremely worried on top of all those battles he'll face. You counted day by day until it was finally the third day where Jing Yuan and the Xianzhou troops would arrive.

The morning sickness kept you confined to your bed and bathroom. You closed your eyes for a minute and you felt the door open to which you sit up-right in anticipation. And there he was, walking towards you like some sort of saving light. His long white hair swayed subtly, gold eyes sparkling with delight, and the smile you've grown to love made the corners of your lips rise. He pulled out a nearby chair and kissed your forehead. His hand suddenly went from your stroking your hair to your tummy and you flinched, wide-eyed.

"You kept this a little secret from me huh?" He muses and you're glad from the tone that he isn't angry. Jing Yuan just happily gazes back and forth between your face and your belly. "I'm not mad as I understand why you had to hide it. You don't have to apologize." His words make you melt, you wrapped your arms around him in an attempt to cover your shyness while you complain about your morning sickness and everything in between.

Jing Yuan strokes your body as he mindlessly repeats the happy thoughts of being a father. Surely he has to reward you for being so good to him, right?

Night had fallen and you settled in the bed with a sigh. Jing Yuan followed you as he got out of the bathroom, shirtless. Your eyes naturally drifted to his body and filled your mind with sin, shifting uncomfortably when the itch between your legs started.

He dries his long hair with the towel, muscles flexing with each movement and you couldn't help but stare at him and what he's hiding underneath, your eyes lingering as he goes to dress his lower half. To think this man's seed is growing inside you makes you feel so damn turned on. You feel wanted by him and Jing Yuan himself confirms your feelings.

He soon lays on the bed, it dips with his weight and you scoot over because you know what he's waiting for. Jing Yuan leans down to meet with your lips, tongues clashing in a fit of passion and he grabs you by the waist to move you closer.

All he felt was cold nights in tents these past few days. The warmth of your body along with the comfort of your shared home butters the general in a sweet mood to make love. He lightly kneads the flesh of your ass through your nightgown, distracting you with his kisses and expert handwork as he takes off your clothing. Those nimble digits creep up between your thighs, cupping his favorite toy as you pull away to let out a moan.

He doesn't let you though. He immediately grabs your chin to connect your lips once more at a pace that starts to pick up. You didn't even notice how you're suddenly caged under his body. Jing Yuan pulls away when he notices it's been too long without breathing, he's not one bit fazed about the makeout but when he sees you looking absolutely debouched, his cock twitches as the animal inside him craves to devour you.

"Pretty pretty wife" Your husband muses with a smile as you suddenly feel him pushing aside your panties. The tip of his fingers teasingly touches your part like butterflies and every sensation you feel goes straight to your throbbing pussy. Jing Yuan wants to go down on you like a madman but he holds back for your sake and his. And it's all because his fingers don't want to leave your pussy at all, he missed this so bad since he's left to fist his cock at nights when you aren't there.

"So tight—missed this amazing pussy." Two of his digits enter your puffy lips, parting them slowly and checking your walls if it can accommodate his size. You always had a hard time taking him. He fights the same tightness that's currently enveloping his fingers while he ignores your pleas to stop.

"Shh shhh you like this, look at you." He drawls, putting on speed with the way he's fingering you. "And when I stop, you whine for me to put it back in. What do you really want hmm?" Two digits are thick enough to fill you completely, what more if it's his cock filling you up? You moan when it hits the spot, squirming inside you and then pulling out only to play with your clit.

He laughs when you cry out in surprise, cooing at the tears that decorate your eyes and wiping them as if he's not the cause. Jing Yuan positions himself above you, quickly discarding the material that hides your treasure. The throbbing between your legs got worse as he starts to unbuckle his pants. You could faintly make out its hardened outline before its leaking tip shows itself to you.

Jing Yuan chuckles, watching how your eyes followed his movement when he strokes himself to spread precum. "Shit, you want this? Want my cock?" He groaned and as expected, your legs automatically tightened around his waist, begging for him to slide it.

"Jing Yuan, please don't be mean. I missed you so much, I need you! Fill me up please!" Your cries passed by him in a daze as he already heard that countless times from you, sure it makes his dick twitch but what moved him was your eyes that showed how much you needed him. They were glossy and conveyed so much emotion other than feeling lust.

It was feeding on the general's urge to take care of you and his child, to love you even if you don't feel the same. He's determined to make this marriage work, you're not backing down now that he's sealed you with his seed.

His thoughts made him touch your stomach mindlessly, the other hand lining up his cock against your folds. Jing Yuan kisses the top of your head, whispering assurance that he'll be gentle. "I'll be gentle, slow pace right? Don't want me hurting you." He says, pushing in to be met with warm walls that grip his cock like a vice.

"Fuckkk, taking me so good." He hissed but suddenly his attention was directed to you who mewled his name.

"I-it's okay to be rough—I want it anyway, just be careful." Your voice dwindles with each word and heat rushes to your face when you realize what you just said. It was embarrassing but on the first night together, you remember Jing Yuan telling you it's important for you to say what you want during sex. So even though you wanted to cover your face with a pillow, your resolve stayed strong until you hear Jing Yuan chuckle.

He leaned down to kiss you on the lips, resisting the urge to pinch you when you look at him with puzzled doe eyes. "Of course. Anything you say, I'll keep in mind." He coos, snuggling his kisses to your neck down to your soft breasts.

He eases the penetration by pushing slow yet continuous, both of you moaning when he buries himself slightly to the hilt. "Is this okay? Deep enough?"

"Y-yeah so good!"

Jing Yuan knows he's big and the effect it has on you. You're shaking beneath him and he could feel it with the way your legs are around his torso. And along the way home, he somehow picked up the knowledge that pregnant women are sensitive especially in their erogenous parts. He was almost overcome with the instinct to pull out if it felt too much for you but when you're saying stuff like wanting him to cum inside you over and over—Jing Yuan knows the only way to please his needy wife is to shoot the load that got you pregnant in the first place.

You shiver when he slides out and prods at your entrance, waiting for him to plunge back in and the second stretch of your hole never fails to open your mouth in shock, sneaky Jing Yuan takes the opportunity to slide his mouth and indulge in sloppy kisses.

"Mmmh-s-stop-ahh!-move inside now!" He pulls away only when you break the kiss and ask to move inside you already. It felt bratty to him but for tonight, he's gonna heed to everything you say. It's only right that Jing Yuan fucks this pussy so good for bearing him a child.

"Impatient are we?" He clicks his tongue and begins to tie his loose hair with the red ribbon. Your attention was so caught in his muscular arms that you didn't even anticipate the movement of his length in your walls. He begins to fuck you while he ties his hair and your eyes were left frozen in shock that he couldn't help but break out a laugh. "Stop looking so cute or else I'll forget that I'm supposed to be holding back." Jing Yuan chuckles before putting his strength in his lower half to work, pulling out halfway through before surprising you as he pushes back to hit the spot.

"Feels good?" You nod dumbly at his question, moaning at how delicious his cockhead feels when it pounds. You wanted to speak but only incoherent babbles makes it out of your mouth that you chose to shut up instead, taking and enjoying his large cock that's breaking your pussy open. He keeps up his pace, his groans in tandem with his thrusts and your body moves along, creating jiggles on your breasts and stomach.

"Look at you, so pretty and tight as fuck. Taking me so good—ugh" He got cut off when your walls pulsed around him, sending shivers down his spine as he lets out a mix of lewd sounds that tickles your ear.

Jing Yuan suddenly latches his lip onto your nipple, sucking ravenously at your nipple and you scream in pleasure, kicking your feet only for him to push deeper to keep your legs in place.

"Can't wait to see—mmmh—these breasts full of milk—won't have another chance to suck at you like this". Jing Yuan mumbles between lapping at your mounds. His words made you gush below, obscene squelches overlapping your whimpers. Your hands desperately grabbed at the sheets as Jing Yuan pounded furiously with his mouth attached to your boobs. It looked so so dirty—so wrong but you can't help but enjoy how he's using your body.

Everything was so sensitive, your body felt like it was on fire. His movements were coming all at once yet he had another trick up his sleeve. Your flesh gets bitten down by his teeth, a sharp pain shooting up in your body that made your walls clench tighter around him. He thrusts in response to your enclosing walls, feeling him grin with your nipple between his teeth.

"Hah! 'm close, Jing Yuan!" Your hand flew to your mouth to hold the moans that threatened to surface but your husband doesn't like that. He prefers it when you're lewd and noisy, the sounds you make were a stark contrast to your image.

He moves your hand to his hair all the while looking at your debauched expression. There was no thought behind your eyes, only thinking of the way his cock fucks back into your hole, molding your cunt to his shape.

He took pity on your senses, you must be so far gone now that only breathless moans are coming out of your mouth. But the primal urge to claim you even though you're his always gets the better of him. Jing Yuan pulls away from your body and hovers to see you in your entirety. He experiments on your obedience for the fun of it, shoving one finger at first and then adding another two to see your reaction.

The look on your face with three fingers stuffed inside your mouth fuels him to pump his cock harder, to give it to you better because you look absolutely ravishing right now. And when you wrap your pouty lips around his digits before he could say anything, his heart does a little backflip as the corners of his lip rise. You were so fucking good for him so he pinches your clit, earning a yelp.

Jing Yuan feels like he's falling harder for you. He's so lucky—so blessed to have you underneath him, he wonders if this marriage wasn't orchestrated then who would be the one to see you like this? The ugly thought has him wanting to claim you one after another, leaving marks on your skin so people would know who you belong to. He'd have you know nothing but his name, the feeling of pleasuring and being pleasured, bearing his child and showing off that you're his and his only.

You're his wife now and that's the only thing that matters, besides you have a child on the way. And Jing Yuan groans loudly to match the pace of his thrusts, one that got you crying and sobbing out of the immense onslaught of pleasure. He fucks so good to the point you feel like your eyes are gonna go to the back of your head or your jaw is gonna lock from how frequently you're opening your mouth.

"Gonna cum?" The veins on his cock glide on your walls, balls swinging from the impact as you take a slight peek at how his dick stretches you out before falling back onto the pillow and nodding your head. "Cum for me then. Show me how good I am to you."

His deep voice lulls you to release, his loving gaze directed to you, and the fulfilling way his hips continued to rut into your cunt. And the filthy words that he whispers near your ear, bordering on degradation and praise. All of those combined and you couldn't help but close your eyes and feel him meeting your little thrusts, chasing your high. As you were nearing your closure, Jing Yuan suddenly attaches his lip to your boob and gets the timing right, provoking your screams as you have an orgasm that absolutely wrecks the lights out of you. You're nothing but a mess beneath his strong arms, his pretty little wife that keeps on crying and thrashing from having an orgasm ten times more intense than normal.

"Fucking take it—take it all." Jing Yuan pants from putting all of his energy left to chase his high, cock hitting you at the best depth that has your feet kicking. Sounds of 'pwop' and squelches fill the room alongside his groans. He leaves your mounds to go seal a fervent kiss to your lips, performing a few more thrusts until it's slowing down as he paints your walls milky white, ropes and ropes of warm cum shooting inside your cunt until he feels spent.

All that's left to do is to clean you up and run another bath, no doubt there's already warm water prepared for both of you. The intensity of doing it with Jing Yuan left you unable to focus and now that you're gaining clarity of your surroundings, you see his eyes that stand out from the background. It's like a swirl of gold that pulls you in and renders you speechless yet you mumble unconsciously "wild eyes" that didn't escape your husband's hearing.

It left Jing Yuan in a fit of giggles, brushing your hair behind your ear as you bury your face in his chest. "So you've heard that one? I wonder if our child will inherit these wild eyes of mine."

You reply while gazing up at him. "I hope so. Your eyes are really pretty."

"Thank you" Jing Yuan broke out a smile, not able to hide what he was feeling as he presses a tender kiss to your forehead that you savor with your eyes closed. His hand traveled to your stomach, caressing it as he looks up to the ceiling, wondering about the future.

Then he says "I'll be present more. I'll be a great husband and father just as they call me a great general." He suddenly declares that you slightly sit up to look at him with awe.

Your lips part, unsure of what to say but you know that from those golden eyes alone that anything you say will be fine. You could feel love—see love emanating from their so-called wild eyes.

"I...would like that"

#jing yuan x reader #jing yuan smut #honkai star rail x reader #hsr smut #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x you #jing yuan x you #hsr x you #hsr jing yuan #hsr headcanons #honkai star rail smut #honkai smut #honkai star rail jing yuan

535 notes · View notes

romana-after-dark · 5 months

Text

Coming soon...

Hi everyone! This winter break I'm hoping to get a lot of writing done and wrap up some series!

Special thanks to @hon3yboy or helping me sooooo much with this series!!!!

That being said, once I feel more caught up, do I have a series for you...

Untitled Triple Frontier cult fic

Dark below the cut

Years after the world fell apart, various communities have established themselves, one of which is ran by four men who claim to be divine.

When they decide it's time to and heir to be born, they chose a virgin from their cult and make her their wife. Reader is offered a choice, of course. She doesn't have to marry them. But if she doesn't, the savior won't be born. She choses to become the Madonna. She is wed to all four of them, and moved into their home where her body is open to use whenever her husbands desire (free use au), in the hopes of getting her pregnant. It doesn't matter whose baby it ends up being, because they are all part God, so it doesn't matter... right?

M/M dynamics

Santiago Garcia: The leader, their Pope, son of the founder, mommy issues (duh), obsessive with his men and with his wife, reader. Pope is particularly obsessed with his right hand man, Frankie. Was told his whole life he was a god-like figure, and acts like it. Dangerous.

Francisco Morales: Right hand man. Quiet, not particularly thrilled with the plan but can't speak out. Only participates in group sex or when Santiago involves him. Is in love with Benny, but can't say as much because of how volatile and possessive Pope is.

Benjamin Miller: Charming, charismatic, slut. Benny is part of the reason they have a lack of virgins to choose from, he's fucked most of them. Insatiable in bed, fucking like a dog in heat. Outside of bed, however, he's fun, nice. Except when he's drunk or high. Loves Frankie.

William Miller: Soft. Gentle. Will treats her like a queen, like their Madonna. He loves her. He says so, after all. Will helps keep her safe, help's her navigate Santi's mania and Ben's addiction and Frankie's coldness. He's just there to take care of her. He promises.

Meet the OC's

Reyansh

Rey is one of the home's security, living in the servants quarters. Reyansh works a lot in the stables and the landscaping, a gentle soul the horses love. Rey befriends our Madonna and although she is initially suspicious of him, she learn that he is trustworthy. Reyansh is in love with the housekeeper, Iris, and they hope to have a family together one day. Faceclaim is Dev Patel

Jonah

Jonah is the head of the guard. He still answers to Will for military decisions, but for the most part he leads the men. Jonah is in charge of keeping the house and the Madonna safe, so he assigns Reyansh to look after her, knowing he's harmless, but capable. Jonah is the father of Iris, but their relationship is strained. Jonah becomes a father figure to Madonna, helping her navigate the world she's found herself in. Faceclaim is Timothy Olyphant

Iris

Iris is the housekeeper and cook for the house. Being stuck as a servant and working long hours in a dangerous household where one wrong move can mean your death, Iris has learned to keep her head down in the hopes that if her and Reyansh behave, they may be allowed to have a life together. She is not fond of reader. She does not think she is the Madonna and thinks she's stupid for getting caught up in the men's lies. She worried that her friendship with Rey will cause problems for them, not because she doesn't trust him, but she knows how possessive and controlling all the men are.

Hoping to debut in January, when after I at least wrap up BBTF and at least 1 or 2 stories on my main.

Comment if you are intested!

Warnings not a ful list, but here are themes and content you should be aware of before start

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap.

A lot of themes and dynamics accidently ended up as kinda a fanfic of Charnellhouse's Watch Your Step, which is now taken off tumblr and AO3 but she's publishing it as a book now so I'll be promoting that book too.

Comment if you are intested and I'll tag you when the first chapter comes out!

Name still TBA ;-;

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hapi-transformers-enthusiast · 6 months

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A Soldier, Nothing More.

The first part of an Ultra Magnus x Human Reader fic I'm writing. I know it's short, but I felt like that last sentence was good to cut it on. I hope you all enjoy it!

WARNING: This is a work of fiction, and not affiliated with Hasbro in any way, shape, or form. This work contains no NSFW, but one mention of Lust as an emotion. Reader discretion is advised.

Ultra Magnus was, first and foremost, a soldier. That was the one thing he did best. Made as a heavy transport frame, and immediately shuffled into the military by the caste system on Cybertron, he was literally groomed to be a commander. Everything he had ever been taught, he learned in the Military. Was that a good thing? Absolutely not. Ultra Magnus knew that such an upbringing stunted his social skills; He knew that people disliked him because of his rigid, authoritative nature, burnt into him by millennia of military experience. He knew that he was an outlier; A man of order and procedure, surrounded by freedom-loving wildcards who longed for an open society. He too longed for that open society - after all, that was what he’d been fighting for, for almost 4 million years now - He just didn’t know how to operate in such a world. A world without need for a rigid outline, without any desire for one.

When you, a college-aged, short-lived human being were placed under his protection, he didn’t complain. Unlike the other bots, he didn’t think of it as babysiting: Because you were an adult. A grown person, fully capable of making your own decisions. You were here because you knew of their existence, and that alone put you in danger; That was all. Sure, every now and again you’d make a bad decision, and he’d chide you for that, but he was nowhere near as strict on you as he was with the Autobots, because you aren’t his soldier. You’re a civilian, and that’s how he thinks of you. A citizen in need of protection.

However, things started changing after only a few months of being with you. Somehow, with that sweet smile you’d always give him when he’d pick you up from work, and the way you encouraged him to keep trying to integrate himself in the family that Team Prime had become… you slid right through the metaphorical walls he’d built around his spark. He began looking forward to driving you to and from dierent places, or conversing with you about the many confusing things about human culture, and he didn’t even realize it until he caught himself talking about it with one of the other Autobots. He didn’t realize that he’d began to enjoy the simple feeling of your hands on the interior of his alt mode until you commented on how warm he got after you’d goen in one day. Things that he’d never even considered important before now were coming to the front of his processor, because they were things that you considered important. He just didn’t understand it.

At first, he contemplated visiting Ratchet and asking about such a feeling, wondering if it was something medical. Then he heard June talking about the way she felt when she met her rst husband – A raised temperature in his presence, a faster heartbeat, wanting to do things that he approved of, all of it – and he had a startling revelation. One for which he had to seek solitude in order to fully process.

Love.

It was something he’d never experienced before, and something he never thought he would experience. Not that he thought that he was somehow incapable of it, but rather that it was just one of the many things about civilian life that was on the boom of his priority list. He’d experienced comradery, friendships among his brothers and sisters in-arms that went deeper than simply ghting with one another… but never this sort of Love.

This particular feeling of trust and companionship, a desire to help and assist, and even Lust, all melded together into one, painfully intense feeling. He didn’t know what to make of it… so he didn’t.

For now, he believed that it’d be too dangerous to get involved with you. He was a soldier – someone who could die at any moment, or be called to battles that lasted for months at a time – and you deserved beer than that.

You deserved someone who was guaranteed to be able to stay.

And he wanted to give you what you deserved, and nothing less.

#my writing #tfp #maccadam #transformers #transformers prime #tfp x reader #ultra magnus #ultra magnus x reader #tfp x human reader #written by hapi transformers enthusiast #tw lust mention

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softguarnere · 1 month

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Like A Girl (Like A Man)

Shifty Powers x OFC

Chapter 39 - Epilogue: Donadagohvi

Summary: She studies her husband’s face. It’s lined with age, but still as beautiful and as bright as the day she met him. A/N: Alright, y'all - we've made it! But before we get started, I've got some things I have to say. This fic was started during a very strange era. I hated what was going on in my life but didn't know how to fix any of it. Long story short, but I decided to run away one day, and ended up in Toccoa. While standing in the military museum there, I started thinking about Deborah Sampson (a childhood hero of mine), and wondered what would happen if a story like hers happened during WW2 - specifically, if she was a paratrooper. Thus, Zenie appeared in my brain, and this epilogue wrote itself in my mind as I went through the museum. I was never sure if I would share this fic until the second that I hit "post." Zenie was just a way for me to blow off steam, to escape - to fulfill my desire to be someone else for a bit. (Coincidentally, all themes throughout the fic.) I didn't know how people would respond to this story, or to this character, and I only ever had the courage to start uploading chapters because of friends like @latibvles and @liebgotts-lovergirl who showed enthusiasm for it. So I couldn't upload this chapter without a massive sgi (thank you) to them, as well as to everyone else who has read this fic and been so kind to it, and to me. Thank you for welcoming me into this fandom. Thank you for allowing me to share the Cherokee language with you. Thank you for all the support you've given me for both my writing, and as friends. Whether you knew it or not, all that kindness came at a time when I really needed it, and I appreciate you all. Without further ado, here's the last laglam update, in which the fic's title finally makes sense. Much love 💖 Warnings: language, alcohol Taglist: @latibvles @liebgotts-lovergirl @lady-cheeky @dcyllom @mads-weasley @ithinkabouttzu @mrs-murder-daddy @lieutenant-speirs

Eugene looks just the same as he did when Zenie first met him. So do all the other men on this side of the reunion. For her part, she also looks the way she did when she first met all of them – albeit like a girl rather than like a man. For now, her hair is long, and her chest unbound.

No one seems to have figured out why they all look young again, and it has only been mentioned in passing during the reunions. There are better things to do, like visit with those they can, and pass between the ones they left behind, feeling their hearts swell with love as they watch them laugh, watch them remember – watch them live.

Another thing that no one has figured out is why they seem able to come back to this world at certain times. David Webster says he once read that the veil between their worlds thins during certain times of the year, and that maybe this is true of the Easy Company reunions. Zenie, however, likes to believe that it’s the love of the people still living who allow them to come back. All that love with nowhere to go. Love so strong that remembering the people you felt it for brings them back.

No time to wonder now, though. Gene is already smiling at her in greeting.

“Hello again,” he greets as she joins him.

“Gene,” she teases him with an affectionate poke to his ribs. “You haven’t aged a day since I met you in forty-two!”

“Eh, I don’t know about that, Tommy Boy,” Luz’s confident drawl digresses as the radioman swaggers up beside her. “You look a little taller. What, did you finally hit puberty or something?”

Zenie rolls her eyes, but there’s no malice to it. She did, after all, keep him in the dark about her secret until her very last day in Europe. Instead of leading him on, she asks, “How does everyone look?”

“Us? The same as ever. Them? – “ Luz gestures towards the reunion that can’t see them. “ – Well, I guess they’re aging with grace.”

“Have you seen – “

“Bill and Babe are at the bar, as per usual. And your darling husband is somewhere around the middle.”

Zenie takes a step forward before turning quickly to face her friends. “Do y’all mind if I . . . ?”

Gene smiles. “Go ahead. That’s why we’re here.”

Grateful, Zenie takes off through the crowd. Visiting her friends like this is something she always looks forward to, but visiting those she left behind is a rarer treat, and she would like to check up on them. Especially Shifty.

Bill and Babe – to no one’s surprise – are the easiest to find. They’ve got the bartender in stitches with their jokes, and their own accented guffaws are like a lighthouse cutting through the crowd that makes them easy to navigate towards.

“Siyo, boys!” Though they can’t see or hear her, Zenie takes a seat beside them at the bar. “What’s new with y’all?”

“They’re drinking everyone under the table, as usual,” a familiar voice beside her announces as none other than Joe Toye takes a seat beside her. His expression is just as relaxed and confident as when they were young, but as he watches their living friends, something like longing flickers behind his eyes. “Too bad that we can’t show them who the real champs are anymore.”

“At least we can visit them.”

Joe nods, smiling sadly. “You made your rounds yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, we got time,” her friend assures her. They have nothing but time, actually. And they use it to sit with their friends, laughing along with their jokes and making their own, even though Bill and Babe can’t hear them.

As their jokes turn to remembrances, Zenie finds herself swept up in Babe’s retelling of the time she chucked an apple at Cobb’s head back in Holland. She barely remembers the scene, able to recall only a flash of anger and a split-second decision. Babe’s version is far better – he paints her out to be some sort of knight in shining armor coming to defend the honor of her friends.

Bill shakes his head and chuckles into his drink. “Goddamn. Zee sure could make a scene.”

“You weren’t even there when her secret got out,” Babe notes. “Now that was a scene!”

“No one ever brings it up,” Bill marvels, his eyes roaming over the crowd, searching for something. “You would think everyone would talk about it all the time. I mean – shit! A woman disguised herself as a man and made it from Toccoa to the bitter end before she got found out, and no one at the reunions brings it up.”

Zenie can’t help but smile at that. It’s true – her secret got out, she had to leave in a state of semi-disgrace, but at the Easy reunions, she was usually only acknowledged as Shifty’s wife. Sure, every now and then someone would tell a funny story about Sergeant Driver before throwing a knowing wink in her direction, but after all this time, it’s like they’re still keeping her secret for her. For her own part, she never brings up her service, except to mention in passing that she met her husband during the war. Even her own children seem to be under the impression that she must have been a nurse or a WAC, using that explanation to fill in the story’s blanks. Zenie never confirmed or denied their suspicions.

“Wish she were here,” Babe sighs. He orders another round of drinks, three this time, before placing one in front of the seemingly empty bar stool beside him – unknowingly, right in front of Zenie. He raises his own glass as he offers the last one to Bill. “To Zenie.”

Bill clinks his glass against Babe’s in a toast. “To Zenie.”

“To the best friends I ever had,” Zenie adds. During her last reunion – and even during the last year or so of her life – she could sometimes swear that she could feel a presence that she couldn’t explain. An unshakable feeling that those she loved who were already gone were somehow watching her would wash over her, though she could never explain why she felt that way. Now, she wonders if her friends feel that way about her. Just in case they do, she channels all her love into those words, hoping and praying that they can feel it.

As if on cue, the bittersweet moment ends when a woman with sleek, dark hair approaches the bar, smiling. “Uncle Babe! Are you ready?”

“Luna.” Zenie watches as her daughter throws an arm around each of the men at the bar, her smile just as bright as her father’s, outshining the sun itself.

“The real question is, are you?” Bill teases his goddaughter, cocking an eyebrow. “Don’t forget, kid, that your uncle is a champion jitterbug dancer.”

Luna sizes up the man in question. “Well, I’ve been practicing.”

“Don’t worry about her.” Babe takes one last sip of his drink and waves off Bill’s concerns. “Her mom could have been a champ, too. It’s in her genes; she’ll be fine.”

“The DJ said it’ll be the next song . . .” Luna begins explaining as she hooks her arm through her uncle’s and leads him towards the small dance floor.

Bill watches them go, chuckling to himself. “Real firecracker.” He glances at the drink set out in honor of Zenie. “God, I wish you were here, little brother. It’s not the same without you.”

“I am,” Zenie assures him. She’s only been gone for two years, but things have changed. That might have scared her once. Not anymore. “I have to go find Shifty. You don’t mind, do you?”

Bill doesn’t answer, of course, but it’s polite to ask all the same. Granny didn’t teach her to mind her manners for nothing.

Zenie weaves her way through the crowd of both the living and the dead. She greets several people, stops to exchange a handshake and a kind word, and sends a nod to those who she catches lurking at the edges of the room – people like Liebgott and Captain Speirs, who only show up in the margins of the reunions, watching, but never joining in. She needs to thank those two specifically at some point. But it’s like Joe said – they’ve got time.

As Luz promised, Shifty is seated at a table in the middle of the room. Their sons, Wayne and Willie, sit on either side of him, laughing along with some story that he, McClung, and Popeye are in the middle of telling. Zenie finds a space to stand behind her husband, being as present as she can. She places one hand on Wayne’s shoulder, and the other on Shifty’s.

At the moment of contact, Shifty’s posture stiffens, and his head turns slightly. Zenie freezes, like she’s just disrupted something. Has she? Can he feel her here?

Shifty only listens to the story being told halfheartedly now. He smiles and laughs in all the right places, but it’s obvious that he’s distracted. These reunions are supposed to be fun. Sure, they can get a little emotional at times, but she doesn’t want her husband missing out on her account. He’s still got a life to live. He needs to be in the present moment and enjoy it.

Zenie bends slightly so that she’s close to Shifty’s ear. She doubts anyone else at the table knows that she’s here, but she wants this to be a private moment for the two of them.

“Shifty,” she whispers. “I’m here. I just wanted to make sure that you’re okay.” She has to pause for a moment to think about what she wants to say. It’s one thing to plan what you’re going to tell somebody, and another thing entirely to deliver the message. Sometimes things get lost in translation. She learned that during their break back in the war.

She studies her husband’s face. It’s lined with age, but still as beautiful and as bright as the day she met him. God, she misses him. She misses all of them.

“The boys look well,” she continues, looking between their sons. “I hope they’re taking care of you for me. They’ve always adored you.” She pats Shifty’s shoulder. She shouldn’t take up his attention too much longer. “Take your time. Enjoy it. I’ll be waiting for you, okay? I’ll see you soon, Shifty.”

Not sure if it will work, she plants a kiss on his cheek. When she pulls away, she watches as Shifty’s hand comes up to touch the place where they made contact. Maybe he really can feel her here.

“Gvgeyui,” Zenie says. I love you.

Gene is waiting at the edge of the crowd when she finds him again.

“How’d it go?” He asks.

Zenie nods. “Good. You?”

“Good.” Gene’s dark eyes flick over the crowd. “It’s nice we get to do this.”

It is nice. Bittersweet, mostly, but it’s good to see their loved ones again, even for a short time before they have to go back. But returning isn’t bad, either. The weather is always warm. And there are people she loves waiting for her there.

In fact, she should get going for exactly that reason. Granny wants to dig ramps soon, and Mama informed her that there would be a pie waiting upon her return. No matter which side of the gauzy veil she’s on, there is always someone waiting for her, and always a place that she belongs.

For strength, Zenie takes Gene’s hand and gives it a squeeze. He returns the gesture, and they begin to walk away from the crowd. But before they go, Zenie can’t help but glance back at Easy Company one last time. Her eyes, as always, land on Shifty. She’ll see him again. She’ll see them all again, in one way or another.

“Until we meet again,” Zenie informs them all, whether they can hear her or not. “Donadagohvi.”

#crying over my keyboard someone plz give me a hug #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers oc #band of brothers #shifty powers #shifty powers x ofc #hbo war #hbo war fanfic #oc zenie mcglamery #my writing #like a girl (like a man)

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imaginesforallkindoflove · 6 days

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Author's note: I am aware that it is not the stuff I usually post but I like writing fanfic for others as well.

Summary: (Y/N) finds out about their husband’s job. Trigger warning for violence, swearing. It is gender neutral.

It was an accident. A simple, honest, mistake.

They didn’t feel like it was their fault either. The documents were sprawled over the desk, the laptop was opened with so many windows… They felt like they were doing Graves a service by closing the laptop and trying to organize the office. Yes, Phillip had forbidden them to come in that room but (Y/N) tried to make an effort. He always said he was the only one doing all the housework, so their spouse took matters into their own hands, cleaned the whole house, bought groceries to cook an amazing meal from their home country and have a nice evening together with their husband.

You see, (Y/N) and Phillip had been married for a long time now. It was odd, considering that Phillip always wanted a traditional spouse and (Y/N) clearly were not. They worked at their own firm, they owned art galleries and helped museums. They were at the top of the food chain if you could say so, opening art galleries left and right, going on business trips, drinking champagne in Paris at 12 and then going to Japan in the afternoon. They often went on T.V and so on. Phillip disliked the way they lived, telling them it was reckless behaviour and wanting them at home. That point was central in their arguments. But they made it work: (Y/N) considered it was because he was concerned and worried about their safety and the many trips they took, until that fateful evening.

Their eyes wandered on the documents for a quick second, not bothering to read them. But, curiosity killed the cat, as the idiom stated. They wanted to know more about Phillip’s secretive job. He never talked about it while they had all kinds of things to say about their work. They were just curious. Humans were. So, (Y/N) started to browse through the different papers, trying to guess which folder they belonged to. At first, they just read over quickly but some words… Some words didn’t seem right, and they thought to themselves they must be tired, there was no way those were reports about casualties in Las Almas… Like everyone, (Y/N) had heard the fight that happened in that city some months ago. They had been terrified and afraid too, because they had a gallery nearby and some of their employees' families had been killed and murdered. There was a rumor a private american military was behind this but there was no proof.

A sense of dread filled them. With shaking hands, they reached the laptop and started browsing through the files. Why didn’t Phillip have a stronger password? It felt wrong, and disgusting, to go through his stuff, they knew it. But they needed to know. They needed to reassure themselves that Graves had nothing to do with this. His laptop was different from hers, he seemed to have darker apps and secrets to hide. It was odd and it frightened them. Finally, clicking randomly, their brows furrowed on a file named “Las Almas reports”. They sat back in the leather seat, trying to understand and trying to stop their racing minds from making any wrong allegations or theories. Phillip Graves was not that man. Maybe he worked for the Red Cross? The international branch? Maybe he went there to help the population and to understand what had happened? Trembling fingers opened the files, and that doomed their marriage.

When Phillip Graves came home, after another tiring meeting with Shepherd, he noticed the house was quiet. Strange, he thought, because he knew (Y/N) loved to blast music when they were home. And the house smelt nice, they had cleaned! The man removed his shoes, and put on his slippers. He looked around with a small smile. His spouse did a good work.

“Honey, I am home!” He called as he walked in the kitchen. There were bags of groceries on the counter and he took a peek. So they had planned a romantic dinner too? His smile grew wider. Great. That evening seemed fantastic. He had felt like he had been too hard on them and wanted to… be forgiven for their behavior. He had been feeling quite stressed since the Las Almas incident. Maybe he and (Y/N) could go on a vacation? They both needed it. “Honey? Where are you?” Phillip asked again as he walked around the kitchen. “Are you playing a prank on me?”

He heard someone going down the stairs. Phillip walked there, a smile still on his lips but it faded when he watched their spouse sitting down slowly on the stairs, with a gloom look on their face. Immediately, he grew worried. Did something happen to them? To their family? He knew they had felt quite stressed because of their work, and they were going to associate with a big museum in Paris.

“Honey, is everything okay?” He asked in an urgent tone. When he tried to go up the stairs to comfort them, (Y/N) glared at them. Oh, something was wrong, terribly wrong. “Are you okay? You are scaring me.”

“You are behind the Las Almas massacre.”

He froze entirely. His body shot down for a quick moment, and he hoped their spouse didn’t notice this. He quickly regained his composure and smiled at them warmly. There was no way they could know of this. He was careful and he believed (Y/N) respected their boundaries. Assuringly, he had locked his office as well. Phillip Graves had nothing to be concerned about. Maybe (Y/N) was exhausted and was hallucinating. He hoped, at least.

“What are you talking about, love?”

“You are the CEO of the Shadow Company, you are behind the Las Almas massacre and other disgusting private army stuff!” They yelled back at him, shoving a ton of documents in his face. “How can you do that?! You monster!”

“You went into my office?” He asked in a slow and dangerous tone, looking back at the documents. Phillip felt like his trust had been broken. “Why?”

“I wanted to surprise you! You always say how you long to have a traditional spouse that stays home, cleans and cooks and I wanted to make you happy!” (Y/N) ranted angrily, standing up. “That’s why you never mentioned your job, ugh? You lied to me! You murderer!”

Phillip stayed quiet. There was nothing to say, if they knew everything now. He couldn’t defend himself and he knew this. Still, he tried. Phillip attempted to calm down the situation. Surely, they didn’t know the whole story. He followed them as they furiously paced around in the living room now. He put the papers down and raised his hands.

“Honey, you have to relax. I will explain everything but you have to calm down, please.”

“How do you want me to be calm after I found out that you are behind some of the largest massacres in many countries?!” They screeched, hurting his ears.

“For fuck’s sake!” He pushed them down on the sofa, perhaps a bit too roughly, but they needed to hear his point of view. “Yes I did this. But I did it to protect you, to protect our country! Do you have any idea of what is going on out there?! No you don’t! Those people in Las Almas were working with a drug lord, from a dangerous cartel, I did what I had to! Those were my orders!”

They stared up at him like he was a monster but they didn’t say anything. There were only tears rolling down their face, and an incomprehensive look on their face. Breathing heavily, Phillip reached for the red wine bottle on the buffet and poured a heavy amount in two glasses. He brought one to his spouse, who just looked at the wall, they were dissociating. He sighed, and didn’t sit down next to them. He hoped they would understand.

“I love you, do you know that?” Phillip spoke in a softer tone. Then, he tried to change the subject because he was not getting a reaction. “Come on, let’s… let’s pretend this didn’t happen and have a nice evening together. We haven’t been able to do this in a long time. How is your friend by the way? The one who is pregnant? We should buy a gift for the baby-”

The evening went by smoothly. But (Y/N) hadn’t spoken. He feared he was losing them, but tried to calm himself down. This was an unfortunate event, tomorrow, he would explain to them what he was truly doing: defending the United States, saving the world, helping the locals… He was not a war criminal, not in his eyes. He was just a simple man, doing his job, and yes, sometimes, it included collateral damage. As he went to bed, he noticed (Y/N) was already asleep. He didn’t want to believe they were blatantly ignoring them. Phillip kissed their forehead softly before slipping under the covers and falling asleep.

(Y/N) waited for Phillip to go to work… if they could call it work. They felt disgusted with their husband’s actions. Sitting in bed, they wondered what they could do now. They had called in sick, because that’s what they felt. How could Phillip go on his normal day after killing people? They had hoped it was a nightmare but when they felt Phillip leave the bed… No it was not. Sighing, they tried to relax, to forget but they just couldn’t! Their husband was a goddamn war criminal! They didn’t know what to do.

Someone suddenly knocked on the door and rang the bell several times. Groaning, they put on a bathrobe and walked down the stairs. They opened the door, to reveal a young looking man with a cap on his head with the Union Jack on it. He smiled at them warmly. He was wearing a plumber uniform too. Tilting their head, (Y/N) tried to remember when they had called a plumber. Oh, maybe they have in the last few days! Work had been tiring and with what happened with Phillip… But they definitely had a leaking problem in the bathroom that Phillip had promised to take care of.

“Hello, am I at the right address?” The man spoke with a heavy English accent. They didn’t pay attention. “Did you call for a plumber?”

“Oh yes, I am sorry, it’s just- I am a bit sick. Please, come on in. From which company are you from?” They asked as they led the young man inside.

“The One Leak For All.”

They hummed. What an odd name. But the man didn’t look threatening so they led them to the bathroom upstairs. They walked past the office and (Y/N) shuddered, remembering everything that happened. They felt a little lighthearted but finally, they showed the leaking problem. The man knelt down and hummed as he inspected it.

“Ah yes, I see you problem.”

“Can you fix it today?”

“Sure. Let me get my buddy first.”

The man, whose name they learnt was Kyle, ran back outside and another man stepped in their house. He was taller and bulkier than Kyle with a strange looking mustache. (Y/N) tried not to laugh, but he was a walking stereotype of an Englishman. They felt bad for wearing a ripped shirt, old sweatpants and a tattered bathrobe in front of two specimen of the male specie. Both men started to work on the problem and (Y/N) stood in the corner. They had heard some noises coming from outside the bathroom but they didn’t pay any mind. Kyle and the man, John, fixed their bathroom’s sink. Feeling nice, they asked both men if they needed anything. They both replied they needed a cup of coffee. With a chuckle, (Y/N) led them to the kitchen, making them what they needed.

Kyle asked a question regarding their husband, after looking at the pictures on the wall and (Y/N) replied absently and without any emotions. John and him shared a look when they mentioned they were getting a divorce.

“That’s unfortunate.” John spoke with a nod. “But I guess you have your reasons.”

“Yes. You could say that.” (Y/N) replied, sighing. Then, they heard a strange sound coming from upstairs. They frowned. “What was that?” They said as they were starting to leave the kitchen.

“Would you like me to check it? Must be another problem with the pipes.” Kyle intervened.

“It didn’t sound like it came from the bathroom… But rather Phillip’s office-”

“I didn’t hear anything.” John brutally cut them. Then, he turned to look at Kyle. “Right son? Did you hear something?”

“No boss.”

“Well… I must have hallucinated then.” (Y/N) said as they turned back to the kitchen. They stayed there for a good five minutes before (Y/N) realized they needed to pay both men. They grabbed their checkbook and a pen. “Alright, how much do I owe you?”

“Uh, fifty dollars please.” John replied, looking embarrassed. (Y/N) wrote it down and gave the check to John. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re welcome, thank you for coming. I hope you didn’t forget any tools.” They smiled at both men who laughed.

“Don’t worry. We got everything.” Kyle winked at them before walking back to their small van. “Have a good day, miss. Stay safe.”

(Y/N) then locked the door as usual and took a very warm shower. They dressed up and walked past Phillip’s office. They noticed that it was a bit open. How odd. Sighing, they grabbed the handle and closed the door. Phillip didn’t need them to snoop around again. But they guessed they needed to leave for a while. So, they grabbed three suitcases and a large bag, putting their clothes and products in it as well as their shoes. They left a note for Phillip on the living room’s table. It felt weird to leave after living together for so long. But (Y/N) needed time after learning everything. They sighed and closed the door. Their friend Camille agreed to welcome them in her home. Did they think about the divorce? Yes.

Would Phillip accept it? No. They were sure of it.

#n speaks #phillip graves #phillip graves x reader #x gender neutral reader #cod mw2 #cod x reader

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earthstellar · 7 months

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Image Comics has dropped their solicits for December 2023, and it looks like Duke #1 is where the Transformers/GI Joe crossover is gonna start really kicking off for the Energon Universe.

I know the general reception to the crossover at the end of ROTB was pretty rough, so it's interesting that they're getting the ball rolling in a GI Joe mini-series.

Personally, my dad was drafted into two wars against his will and suffered greatly for it, so I never had any interest in GI Joe because my dad vehemently hated that shit, as he felt it glorified war to children and that this is morally unacceptable. (He preferred the depiction of Army life of that era in MASH, which he said was at least more honest and aimed at adults.)

I also had classmates who ended up joining the military who had been big fans of GI Joe, two of whom were killed in Afghanistan. I know GI Joe wasn't the only factor involved in their decisions, but it certainly does not make me inclined to like the franchise.

My mother lost her first husband in Vietnam. He had also been drafted against his will. (I strongly dislike the GI Joe Vietnam era material in particular, for perhaps obvious reasons.)

So, I admit my general dislike of the concept of GI Joe as a franchise is at least partly based in my own trauma (and that of my family) relating to the US Army.

I've never been a GI Joe person and never will be (on moral and trauma based grounds), so I fully admit I am not well versed on the lore of that universe, and as such, it's hard for me to make any guesses at what Duke #1 might bring.

But what interests me is that on certain forums and other social media, I've seen very limited audience hype about this crossover in general, especially from the Transformers crowd.

After the extremely progressive writing and fresh visual style and designs of the IDW Transformers storylines which appealed to a lot of people across several age ranges and generations of fans, it feels weird (to me at least) to suddenly have a more old school style crossover with what is essentially a US military propaganda franchise-- At a time when the sociopolitical zeitgeist is that "going traditional" is often associated with "going backwards".

All art is political, and so on.

But I do wonder if what seems to be a lack of audience hype is partially due to the fact that not a lot of Transformers fans (at least, not many under the age of 40 based on what I'm seeing around the internet at the moment) seem to be all that into GI Joe.

A lot of young people are not exactly in love with US military fantasies, and the last Transformers comic series with IDW was a big hit with younger/teen readers-- A lot of that audience might be lost, here.

(And vice-versa from what I can tell, although I'm not in any GI Joe fan spaces so I'm not sure what the mood might be in that community in regards to the Transformers element of this crossover.)

All that having been said, the Energon Universe is only just getting started, and who knows what the comics will actually contain!

I do like G1, so I like the designs for the Transformers as drawn in this run this far.

And who knows, maybe they'll do something new with GI Joe for this. I'm aware that in at least one of the cartoons, they were essentially on the run from the military instead of working for it, which is an interesting twist. Perhaps something similar might happen here, with some Joes siding with the Autobots instead?

It's not fair to judge before a comic is even released, so I'm just thinking out loud here in regards to the crossover concept in general.

I'd be interested to hear what anyone else thinks:

Will you be checking out Duke #1 as a Transformers fan interested in the crossover?

Have any of you been interested in GI Joe previously?

If you're an IDW Transformers fan, are you interested in the Energon Universe?

Any other thoughts on the crossover, any conjecture or hopes for the direction of this run?

I want to give the Energon Universe a chance, but as I mentioned, I do have some difficulty attempting to get into GI Joe in general.

That having been said, I guess we'll have to wait and see what they do with this crossover.

#just thinkin #tw military #transformers #energon universe #transformers comics #long post #idw transformers #idw 1 #maccadam #maccadams

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the-whispers-of-death · 2 months

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when i started sending asks about rich reader i imagined him to be a shorter (compared to Sarabi) man with some chub but still strong and a little older. but like.....

it would be like the rabbit who is obsessed with his girlfried who is four times bigger. like rich reader would be in some rich people gathering and be like

reader: and this is my wonderful partner (he wants to call Sarabi husband so bad he's gnawing on the bars of his enclosure)

*pulls Sarabi to his side, arm around his waist while reader is like... tall enough to reach Sarabis chest at best*

reader: isn't he wonderful *proceeds to poeticize about how much he loves Sarabi and how great their relationship is to his rich friends*

short king reader raaahhhh!!!!!

I don't know if it's because Sarabi writes poetry, listens to classical music, and wears turtlenecks as a staple of his wardrobe, but I feel like out of all of my OCs, Sarabi is the one who'd thrive the most if he was taken to a gathering full of rich people. He's a refined man, even with his job and his burn scars. And I mean, he'd love you gushing over him when talking to your friends while he's right there. Let him be your trophy boyfriend!

You couldn't deny that Sarabi looked like he belonged at the party, wearing a beautiful all-black suit with a black turtleneck underneath to hide the burn scars on his neck. He didn't wear a mask or balaclava, because he knew he'd garner more attention with them on and the last thing he wanted was to embarrass you, but even with the entire right side of his face burned, he still managed to fit in with your friends.

He happily followed you as you made the rounds, your arm wrapped around his waist as best as it could with him being so large. Your head just barely reached his chest, but you led him around so easily. He was on his best behavior, using his knowledge of classical music and poetry to wow your friends.

And God, did he preen and melt when you gushed about him to your friends. He somehow managed to stand even taller, his posture even straighter than usual somehow, as he listened to tell your friends he was just the best boyfriend ever.

You rambled about his accomplishments in the military, how he had a hand in helping keep the world safe. And all the while, the hand that wasn't wrapped around his waist was gently rubbing his chest through the fabric of his suit.

He'd gently grab your hand and press sweet, gentle kisses against your knuckles, so deep in love with you. Anyone who looked at you two knew you both were enamored with each other.

But that didn't stop someone from commenting on Sarabi's burn scars.

You had once left him for a little bit to talk to someone who was in the middle of the crowd so you couldn't take him with you, just because he took so much space so he was just standing near the wall. And some pompous man sidled up to Sarabi, a sneer on his face.

"Well aren't you a tall drink of handsome?" the man said mockingly, his judgmental eyes on the right side of Sarabi's face, where year-old third-degree burns marred his face. "It's so disgraceful of {Name} to bring you out in high-society. You should be back home, locked away so no one can see you."

Sarabi eyed the man, but he didn't let the man's words anger him. He was determined on being on his best behavior for you.

"{Name} is entitled to bring whoever he wants to these gatherings," he told the man, his voice bored since you were gone. "Besides, you don't have to be in my space and look at me, I'm sure there's several other people who'd love to talk with you."

The man's face turned red with anger, having been expecting to tear Sarabi's self-esteem down enough to make Sarabi cower in his presence. With his tight grip around his glass of champagne, the man opened his mouth to insult Sarabi some more, but you came back before he could.

"Mr. Peters! It's been so long since we've last seen each other," you said, your voice so sweet as you took your place beside Sarabi once more. Your arm wrapped around Sarabi's waist on instinct. "I trust you and Sarabi were having a nice conversation before I came."

Mr. Peters obliviously misinterpreted your sweet, subtly threatening, tone to mean that you hadn't heard him insulting Sarabi. "Your boyfriend is very rude, {Name}," he complained to you. "And he's not very nice to look at. I'm shocked you didn't leave him at home."

Your beautiful eyes darkened at Mr. Peters' words and you clicked your tongue at him disapprovingly. "You talk of Sarabi like he's some show dog to parade around. He's my boyfriend, no matter what he looks like."

You let go of Sarabi's waist to step closer to Mr. Peters, towering over the shorter man because while you were shorter than Sarabi, you weren't too short.

"I suggest you leave us alone, before I decide to disregard decorum. I know how to properly act, unlike you, but I won't have you insulting my boyfriend."

Mr. Peters gulped and scurried away like the coward he was, leaving you to fret over Sarabi. You cooed at him, making sure he knew you weren't ashamed to be seen with him.

The rest of the night went by well, no one else giving Sarabi a hard time. You two left the gathering at a reasonable time, heading home since Sarabi had work in the morning. You slept with his head resting on your stomach and his arms wrapped around your waist, passed out against you as you were his safe space.

It was safe to say Mr. Peters wasn't invited to other parties after that night.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and talk or request something! (SFW requests only, please and thank you)

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lulu2992 · 11 months

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hi! i hope you don't mind me asking you this, but i feel like you're the most reliable source for this, haha. i saw that you answered an ask about john, explaining what to keep in mind when writing him, and i was wondering if you could do the same thing with jacob? as in, what characteristics to keep in mind when writing him and all !! i would seriously appreciate it a lot!! i wish you all the best and thank you for everything you're sharing with the fandom <3

Hi! And thank you very much for your kind words :)

As I did in the post about John (here, for anyone who is interested), I’m first going to give you a few links and facts about the Soldier! By the way, “the Soldier”, unlike “the Father” and “the Baptist”, isn’t Jacob’s official title in the cult, it’s just how he was called in promotional material (and by Dutch).

You must have played Far Cry 5 and seen the cutscenes already, but I’m still going to summarize his backstory and beliefs to try to write a comprehensive post. And in case you’ve missed them or want to listen to them again, here are:

His radio calls in chronological order (here, here, here, here, and here)

His sermons (part 1 and part 2)

The comments he makes during the trials

The audio of his two videos (“I own you”, broadcasted inside the Stone Ridge chalet, and the one with Pratt)

The message on the phone in the Stone Ridge Chalet

What he says during the final fight against him (here and here)

His Arcade lines

Finally, even though they were cut, you can find his unreleased lines here.

I wrote a summary of what other characters say about Jacob here (masterpost here), but you can listen to the NPCs’ comments here (cultists) and here (Resistance/civilians).

As for in-game notes, to my knowledge, only one was undoubtedly written by Jacob. It can be found in his bunker, Jacob’s Armory:

Dan Hay (Executive Producer/Creative Director/Writer) and Jean-Sébastien Décant (Narrative Director/Writer) talked extensively about John in a video for IGN, but unfortunately for us, the other members of the family didn’t have that privilege...

However, in a now-deleted interview for GameCrate, Drew Holmes (Lead Writer) said the following:

Jacob Seed, who’s the older brother, maybe doesn’t necessarily believe in Joseph’s message that God told him the end of the world was coming, but he believes in his brother, doesn’t matter if he’s right or wrong, he going to march forward with him.

And although Jacob loves his brothers, he reportedly doesn’t care much about Faith, according to the Lead Writer and NPC dialog.

In The Book of Joseph (which you can read here), Jacob is described as a protective big brother and an adventurous child who loved nature and “only felt comfortable in the outdoors”. He would sometimes steal candy for his two brothers so they “could have a bit of sweetness and comfort in [their] lives”. Their childhood was indeed miserable, mostly because their father was very violent. While he was “strong” and could withstand being beaten regularly, he hated seeing his youngest brother John in pain, so he started thinking about getting rid of their abuser. It’s unknown if he would have done it, but he never got to put his plan into action thanks to Joseph, who convinced him not to, and to child protective services.

The boys were sent to an orphanage and adopted by a couple, but they treated them like servants and “livestock”, even making them sleep in a barn. One night, Jacob had enough and, after waking his brothers up and freeing the animals, set fire to the property. When the couple ran outside, he also knocked out the husband with an axe handle. That led him to be sent to a juvenile detention center and separated from his brothers. There, he was “a bit of a troublemaker” and the guards didn’t like him. However, the teachers believed he had potential and was a good leader. At the end of his sentence, Jacob joined the army.

He spent several years (20, according to Dan Hay) in the military (the Marines according to the book, the 82nd Airborne Division according to the game) before being declared unfit for service because he suffered from PTSD. He then spent some time in a military hospital but was kicked out when he couldn’t afford it anymore. After that, he never received his pension (for unknown reasons) and started living on the streets, basically becoming invisible. Joseph found him “completely hollow” in a homeless shelter and only recognized him because he was calling his brothers’ names in his sleep.

Once the three brothers were reunited, Jacob “slowly came back to life” and swore to follow Joseph to the end. In the cult, his goal is to build and train an army so they’re ready for the Collapse, able to survive in the post-apocalyptic wilderness, and protect the rest of the Family.

In the game, he talks about the moment that redefined his life. During the first Gulf War, he and another soldier named Miller got separated from their unit because of an ambush and had to survive in the Iraqi desert. On the eighth day, he realized they were most likely going to die and accepted it, but “in that acceptance came clarity”. He saw Miller, who was barely able to walk anymore, as “an opportunity” for him to live… implying he cannibalized him. He adds it wasn’t something he wanted but something he had to do; his “test” (from God, I assume).

Because of this dehumanizing (and traumatizing) experience, Jacob came to believe that humanity was divided into two categories: the weak and the strong. The weak are not meant to survive, but they have a purpose. He thinks people are “meat”, “tools”, and expendable, so he doesn’t hesitate to “cull the herd” (his mantra) so only the strongest soldiers are in his army. He thinks society and modern technology have made humans weak and that people should return to their natural selves, like ancient men (who were an example of strength, to him). The Collapse will be a new beginning, but his soldiers need to be ready for it, which is why he obsessively selects and trains them, and doesn’t hesitate to experiment on converts.

As demonstrated with the Deputy in the game, Jacob conditions potential recruits using Bliss, violent images, and the song “Only You” (because of this scrapped idea) so they uncontrollably go on a killing spree whenever they hear the song. He starves them, keeps them in cages, and makes them go through trials to test their strength and teach them how to hunt and kill. He also expects them to “sacrifice”, as explained in this note (Grand View Hotel):

To pass through the Gate you must SACRIFICE something of yourself, to let go of the past and fully embrace your future with the Father. It has to have meaning. What is it that is keeping you here? What is it that anchors you, that prevents you from giving yourself freely to the Father? Is it your husband, your wife, your child? Maybe your brother, or mother? Once you have rid yourself of the shackles of your old life then you can open your heart to the Father’s voice.

He experiments on animals as well, mostly wolves, to turn them into mind-controlled “Judges”, more powerful and aggressive, and able to attack on command.

Like his siblings, Jacob has a strong personal philosophy inspired by his past. He basically makes the people he converts relive his trauma because he thinks it will make them better, fitter to serve the Project. He has specific goals but, as brutal as his actions are, isn’t cruel for the sake of cruelty. He tests people the way he believes he was tested, makes them go through starvation and dehumanization so they can revert to their primordial instincts, become warriors and be truly alive; reborn.

Jacob isn’t a very demonstrative man and is rather stoic, but I don’t think that means he doesn’t feel anything; he just doesn’t want/like to show his emotions (except maybe to his brothers). And as the eldest, it seems he doesn’t hesitate to speak his mind to Joseph. That said, while he isn’t sure if the Father can really hear God’s voice, he still has faith in him and is ready to give his life for him and the Project. In my opinion, Jacob possibly even believed that he had to die for Joseph, as his weapon and his sacrifice. He trained the Deputy so they would kill his former ally and main rival Eli for him, but I think it’s likely that he expected them to be strong enough to kill him as well, so the prophecy (and his destiny) would be fulfilled. As much as he told the Deputy they were neither strong nor special, in the end, he probably thought they were...

We don’t know if the traumatic memories of the war that would “surge up at any moment”, according to The Book of Joseph, still torment Jacob in the game because his PTSD is never really shown or mentioned, but we can assume it’s still there to some degree. It’s unknown where exactly his scars come from or what caused them, but he was most likely injured in combat. In my opinion, he also sometimes sounds like he has respiratory problems, but that’s never discussed, either.

To summarize this summary, Jacob is ruthlessly committed to his goals and convictions. He says nature doesn’t have empathy, so he shouldn’t, either. He went through hell several times and believes he only emerged stronger, so he thinks others can and must be hardened the same way to become the best, most primal version of themselves. He doesn’t fear death and possibly even expects it to come for him early, but it doesn’t matter because he would have fulfilled his destiny, and he has a legacy anyway: his army. Because of how strong and well-trained his soldiers are, he’s confident the Family will be safe, even after his death. Despite his incredibly twisted vision of the world and violent methods, deep down under all the hatred and trauma, it seems there’s still a little bit of that big brother who would try his best to protect his siblings and brighten their lives, somewhere, somehow…

#sorry this took almost a week #but I hope it helps!#(and that I didn’t forget anything important)#the links give more info anyway :)#far cry 5 #the book of joseph #jacob seed #far cry 5 spoilers

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