#how to win your wife back before it's too late

[lostbookmark]

MNDI 🔞

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Summary: After the death of your brother and his wife. You find yourself adjusting to a new role in your life. A single parent to your teenage nephew. How do you help him heal? How do you help yourself heal? You're not sure. You don't think you can, until an annoying basketball coach enters your life and turns everything around.

Pairing: Basketball Coach Yoongi x Single Aunt F. Reader

Genre: Romance, Angst, Smut, Strangers to Lovers,

Warnings: Death Of Parents / Brother/ Family, Car Accident (Cause), Swearing, Explicit Sex, Arguments, Physical Fighting, Past Abusive Relationship, Talks Of Domestic Violence, mention of sex work

A/N: Surprise, I figured out chapter 14, so here you guys go!! Chapter 14 might be late due to my “vacation” and losing some days to fully work on it, but I'm feeling good about it.

Elly held your hand tightly as the clock on the scoreboard quickly ran down. The score was close. Too close. 45-42 Bangtan Ravens were only up by three points, and Yoongi looked stressed down on the court. He and Jungkook were yelling…..well, you don't know what they were yelling, but they were yelling and pointing everywhere as the boys ran all over. Time outs were being called, and players were being switched out. Frustration even showed on the young player's faces. It was all intense and you didn't like it.

Your eyes go back to the clock, and your heart feels like it’s beating out of your chest as it finally hits the single digits. 9….8…Nicky has the ball, but you don't think he was anywhere close to their side of the court, and you don't see any open players for him to pass the ball to. 7…6… He finally breaks free and makes a run for the opposite of the gym. 5….4…3… jumping, he shoots…2…1….. The ball hit the rim of the basket, effectively bouncing off.

He misses.

The buzzer sounds throughout the gymnasium.

Bangtan Ravens wins 45 - 42

6-0 undefeated.

As your side of the gym cheers and the confetti gets thrown in the air, you watch as your nephew hangs his head in defeat. Your heart breaks as you watch his teammates celebrate their win, but he looks like he let them down. Coach Jeon gives his shoulder a little shake and says something in his ear, to which he nods his head.

“That was close,” your mom says, looking up at you from one bench lower like always. “You need to give him a pep talk.”

“But they won,” you say. “I don't know why he's upset.”

“They didn't win by much, and that's the problem,” Chris says, leaning over his fiancée to look at you.

“But they still won,” you say again.

“Doesn't matter,” your mom, dad, and brother all say.

“They almost lost, and that's what he's going to focus on,” your dad explains.

You and Elly look at one another, and she gives you a tight smile. You don't think she understands either.

Fuck this sport!

Maybe you can talk him into joining the choir or maybe some dance class.

Maybe he will be good at tap.

“Food's here,” Yoongi says, bringing in a couple of paper bags into the kitchen and setting them on the counter.

“Did you grab the cash on the table for the tip?” You ask, grabbing three plates out of the cupboards.

“Mmhmm,” Yoongi confirms and buries his face into your neck, pressing his lips into the smooth skin. “If you're lucky, I might have a tip for you too.”

Cackling, you pull away from, only to grab the front of his sweatshirt to pull him to you.

“Was that a sex joke?” You question, laughing. You watch his face turn pink before hiding it in your neck once again. “Don't hide. I've been waiting for this moment.”

“You act like I never touch you,” he says, pulling away from your warmth.

“Touch me, yes. Your fingers are quite magical,” you say and look over his shoulder. “But you've only fucked me twice.”

“I told you…” he starts.

“And I told you,” you say, cutting him off. “He sleeps like a rock. That kid does not wake up. Unless you're more worried about you making too much noise. I believe it was you that was a Chatty Cathy last time.” He scoffs and crosses his arms. “It's fine. I know my skill set is pretty high. It's fine if you can't keep up.”

Yoongi huffs out a laugh, grabbing you and lightly digging his fingers into your sides, causing you to screech in laughter. Dropping onto your knees down onto the kitchen floor, he follows after you, hovering over your back, not letting up. You were so focused on trying not to pee your pants that you don't see Nicky in the entryway of the kitchen until he clears his throat. Both you and Yoongi freeze and look up at the teenager who doesn't seem amused as he stares at the two of you acting like fools on the floor.

“Hey,” you say, scrambling to get off the floor and clearing your own throat. “The food is here. I'm sure you're hungry, right?”

“Is everything okay,” Yoongi asks, looking at your nephew, who was still silent and watching the two of you.

“I let you down,” he says, and a look of confusion crosses Yoongi's features at his words.

“What do you mean?” He questions. “You didn't let me down.”

“I should have played harder,” Nicky tells him. “I did. I let you down today, and the whole team probably knows it.”

“Let's go outside and talk,” Yoongi suggests. Nicky nods and walks out the kitchen door as your boyfriend turns to you. “I got him. Just give us a couple of minutes.”

You nod your head and watch him leave the house, shutting the door as he goes. Biting your lip, you tap your foot and quickly make your way to the small laundry room at the back of the house. Ducking down, you make your way over to the window and quietly as possible. You crack open the window. Peeking over the edge, you watch as they sit on an old wooden bench you had found at a garage sale when you first moved in.

“What's going on?” Yoongi asks from where he sat next to Nicky.

“I missed that last shot,” he confesses, with a bouncing leg. “I thought for sure that I could make it, and I didn't. I wasn't good enough. I was right there, and I missed it.”

“You're not going to hit every shot,” Yoongi tells him, making the young boy hang his head with disappointment. “But that doesn't mean you're not good enough. Why do you think Coach Jeon and I tell you the plays first?” Nicky shrugs, still looking at the ground. “Because your teammates listen to you. They trust you to communicate with them out there. We trust you to make the right decisions out there when things aren't going our way.”

“I should have found someone open,” he says. “I hogged the ball. You taught us to run and pass, but I held on to it. I thought too highly of myself. Look at what happened.”

“There wasn't anyone open,” Yoongi says, trying to appease him. “We underestimated this team, and that was my fault. I didn't do the correct research, and we went in there blind. You got yourself out of that corner and ran with the ball just like you're supposed to do. You did nothing wrong today.”

“But I disappointed you,” he argues. “I know I did. I shouldn't have missed that last shot.”

“The only way that you would have disappointed me would have been if you gave up,” Yoongi says, placing his hand on Nicky's shoulder. “You didn't give up. You and the team fought until the end and won.”

“Only by three points,” he says and wipes at his face with his sleeve. “And they were ahead a couple of times.”

“And…. you guys will run extra for that in practice on Monday for that,” Yoongi jokes. “You won, and I'm proud of you for that. Even if we didn't win, I would still be proud of you.”

“Really?” He asks.

“Really,” Yoongi confirms. “How about we go back in? I'm starving, and I know you're probably starving.”

Your eyes widen and shut the window, but unfortunately, you slam the window shut on the tip of your finger, causing you to silently curse as you run back into the kitchen. Shaking your hand, you quickly plate some food rather sloppily onto the plates, trying to act natural as they come back into the house.

“Is everything okay?” You ask, acting innocent as you try to hide your throbbing finger.

“Yeah, I'll be back,” Nicky says, walking past you.

Yoongi leans against the counter with his arms crossed against his chest, staring at you. You look at him, and he has a small smile playing across his lips.

“How's your finger?” He asks.

“My finger?” You reply.

“The one you shut in the window when you were spying?” He asks.

“I…” he raises an eyebrow, daring you to continue your lie. “Oh, sue me. I wanted to know what was going on.”

“Did you not trust me?” He asks.

“I do trust you,” you tell him.

“Then trust me to tell you if there is anything you need to know,” he says.

“Why couldn't he talk to me?” You question shaking your hand again, trying to ease the throbbing pain. “He knows that he can always come to me when he needs something. He always has.”

“Would you have known what to say?” He asks, taking your hand in his to look at your red finger. You open your mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. “I want him to be comfortable to come to me if he needs to talk. Even if it's just about basketball. I'm not trying to take that away from you.”

“Fine, I won't spy on your conversations with him anymore,” you concede, taking your hand back.

“Thank you,” he says, with a smirk and you roll your eyes in return.

“Yeah, yeah, you win this one,” you tell him.

“Can you repeat that?” He asks, leaning closer. “Did you just say that I won an argument?”

“Don't get cocky,” you warn.

“You've admitted to liking me, trusting me AND… I won an argument. Oh, I'm going to be cocky,” he says, taking all three plates to the table.

Crossing your arms you watch him go with a shake of your head.

You've created a monster.

“Touch the line,” Yoongi yells as the boys run across the court touching the lines. “We won by three points! THREE POINTS! That is nothing to brag about. It should have fifteen…. ten, but three? THREE!”

The boys were tired, huffing and puffing as they stood against the wall trying to catch their breath. Coach Jeon blows his whistle as they all take off touching each line before running back to the wall before running forward again to touch the next line and so on. They looked miserable. You felt miserable watching them.

“I think that was pure luck,” Yoongi continues. “They weren’t tired. They could have played a whole other game while you all looked ready to collapse. Huffing and puffing out of breath like you have never run around a court before.”

“SIX LAPS!” Coach Jeon shouts, with a whistle blow. “We've been taking it too easy on you. Our main focus will be stamina….”

“This is awful,” you whisper to Mark.

“The Y has an indoor track, right?” You ask, and he nods. “Maybe I should get Nicky a membership, and he can run on Sundays and in the off-season.”

“They're not wrong, though,” he says. “That team had some new players that we weren't anticipating. They were quick, and our boys tired out too soon.”

"Anticipating?" You question. "Am I supposed to be keeping track of other teams?"

"Some of us do," his answer makes you slouch a bit.

“Yeah, maybe Jun can join him,” Mark says.

“My son would love to do it too,” chicken parm mom says, poking her head between you and Mark. “I'll set up a group chat.”

You give her a small smile and look away awkwardly. Over your shoulder, you see Ara sitting with a couple of other moms. Sighing, you wipe your hands on your jeans and make your way over to her. As you stand in front of her, she gives you a look of disgust.

“Look, clearly, we will never be friends but….,” you start.

“Oh, so you do have a couple of brain cells,” she sneers.

“I'm trying to apologize. You don't need to take cheap shots at me,” you say, trying to keep your cool. “I shouldn't have repeated what your husband said.”

“And I'm not going to feel bad for you just because everyone else does,” she snaps.

“Ara,” her friend hisses, knocking her knee with her own.

“I don't need you to feel bad for me,” you tell her. "I'm just trying to .... I don't know.... ease the tension."

“Is something wrong, ladies?” Yoongi asks, coming up to stand on the steps next to you.

“I tried,” you say, shaking your head. “I really tried.”

“I don't need your fake apologies,” Ara snaps. “So you can take your ass back wherever you came from.”

“Three practice suspension, Ara,” Yoongi says, staring at her with a serious expression.

“Excuse me,” she screeches, standing up from her seat. “Suspension?”

“You heard me,” he said, staring at her with an unreadable expression.

“For what?” She asks, her fiery gaze focused on burning a hole through his head.

“We don't swear here,” he reminds her, remaining the complete professional that he is. "I believe you know this rule."

“You let her off the hook,” she accuses him.

“Because you goaded her into that situation,” he explains. “I do believe this one is all you. Y/N, here was just apologizing to you.”

“You cannot suspend me,” she argues. “After all I have done for you and this team, you can not suspend me.”

“Yes, I can,” he argues back. “Now you can leave now and for the next three practices, or I can just… ban you if you want to cause a scene. You signed the exact same contract that everyone else did. You are not above anyone else.”

Ara scoffs and looks at her friends, who seem to find their phones a little more interesting at the moment. Grabbing her bag, she walks down the stairs and out the gym doors. Yoongi doesn't say anything to you as he walks back down the bleachers to the court. You, yourself, turn to go back and sit next to Mark, who looked thoroughly amused.

“I think our queen bee's reign of terror might finally be coming to an end,” he comments.

“That wasn't my intention,” you say. “I was really trying to apologize.”

“Yeah, but I still thank you,” he jokes. “On the other hand….”

“She might open hell fire on us?” You ask and he nods.

Two whistles blow causing you to jump.

“Get back on the wall,” Yoongi instructs. “I better see fingers touching the lines. I can do this all week!”

This was going to be a long practice, and you probably just made things worse!

Settling into your bed, you flip through your channels on the tv hanging on your wall. Nicky fell out hours ago. Your normal human garbage disposal barely even touched his food at dinner. His eyes fought to stay open the entire time he sat at the table. You understood that this was a part of the whole playing sports thing, but that didn't mean you had to like it. You thought it was too much just for a damn trophy, a stupid shiny piece of metal.

Snuggling deep down into your blankets, you wrap your arms around your pillow. As you start to focus on the random movie on the tv. Your heart stops at the ringing of the doorbell. Looking at your clock, the red glaring numbers read ten thirty stared back at you. Sitting up, you reach for your phone, only to swear when you remember that you left it charging in the kitchen on the counter when you were cleaning.

“Fuck,” you curse yourself.

SItting up, you wait and hear the doorbell again. Jumping out of bed, you run to your closet, grabbing your brother's old hockey stick and march to the front door. Keeping the lights off, you unlock the door and throw it open. You raise the hockey stick over your shoulder, ready to strike, should you have to.

“WHOA, WHOA,” Yoong says as the street light illuminates your figure. “It's me, it's me.”

“What the fuck, Yoongi,” you say, dropping the stick off your shoulder but keeping it in your hand as you hit the lightswitch on the wall. “Do you know what time it is?”

Oh my god!

When did you turn into your mom?

“I tried calling you?” He explains.

“I didn't have my phone on me,” you tell him. “I would have hit you with this.”

“I didn't think you were going to come to the door armed,” he jokes with a light laugh.

“It's late, and I have a kid to protect,” you say seriously. “Who the hell rings a doorbell this late at night?”

“I'm sorry,” he says quickly. “I got some exciting exciting news and I couldn't wait to tell you. I came over since you weren't answering your phone.”

“Exciting news?” You ask, waving him inside and shutting the door. “Is the Loch Ness Monster officially gone?”

“No,” he says. “Jungkook had dinner tonight with one of his friends and found out something amazing.”

Pause.

He looks at you expectantly, and you shrug.

“Good for him,” you say.

“His friend has ties to some sports agents,” Yoongi informs you. “Years ago, there used to be this basketball camp that only invited kids could go to. Like the best of the best, could go to.”

“And,” you say, willing him to hurry this up.

“They closed it years ago, but we found out…. they are going to open it again,” he tells you smiling.

“I think you're too old for it,” you say, and he rolls his eyes with a sigh. “Listen, my nice warm bed is getting cold.”

“Obviously, it's for Nicky,” he replies, ignoring your last comment. “It wouldn't be for a couple of years because he has to be fifteen to participate, but this is huge news.”

“Hold on,” you say, spinning the hockey stick. “You come over here at ten thirty at night. Scaring the shit out of me to tell me about some camp that Nicky can't even get into yet?”

“I understand,” he says. “But this is big, and we need to get him on a good training schedule now so he can be ready.”

“For what?” You ask, confused. “You don't get to decide that he's doing this.”

“Don't take this opportunity away from him just because you hate basketball,” he argues.

“And don't try to live out your dream through him,” you snap. Yoongi gives you a strained smile before heading back toward the door. “Wait, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, please. Come back.”

“It's been a long day for all of us,” he says, “We can talk about it tomorrow.”

“No,” you say, grabbing his hand and pulling him to the couch, making him sit down. “I'm sorry. I'll listen.”

“Boy's would kill for this opportunity,” he explains. “With the right training, Nicky could get that opportunity. It could open so many doors for him in the future with the things he could learn there. Things that I can't teach him.”

“It sounds expensive,” you say, and he looks guiltily at you. “Great! How much are feet pictures going for nowadays? Am I too old for the strip club?”

“Absolutely not,” he says, pulling you into his lap. “Clearly, I will help you with the money. I know your parents will help.”

“No,” you shake your head. “I got what…. two years to save up? I'll get it figured out.”

“I didn't think that far ahead,” he admits. “I got too excited at the news of them reopening.”

“It's really that big of a deal?” You question, making him nod in answer. “You're willing to work with him?”

“Of course I am,” he responds. “I'm not going to let him waste his talent.”

“God, Nick would have loved you,” you sigh, making Yoongi scrunch his face in confusion. “Nicky's dad. Nicky is Nicolas Jr.”

“Oh,” he says softly.

Getting off his lap, you go to your tv stand and open a door that hid a box of pictures where you kept away from your nephew. Sitting down next to him, you open the lid to the show box and scrounge around for a minute before handing him a four by six inch glossy picture.

“This is his dad?” He asks and you nod. “Man…”

“They look alike, huh?” You comment. “That was his senior year championship game in highschool. That would have been about a year before Nicky would be born.” Fingering through the messy memories, you grab one near the bottom of the brown box and hand it to him. “His mom Sarah.”

“I can see him in her too,” he comments as he studies the picture.

“She is… was,” you swallow and wipe your eyes. “She was the perfect basketball mom. You would have loved her. She would have organized your team schedule for you and had homemade snacks for the boys after practice.” You laugh lightly to yourself and look at their pictures. “But now you're stuck with me. All I do is fuck everything up even when I'm not trying to. He shouldn't be here with me. I'm going to mess his future up.”

Cover your face with one of your hands, you try to hide away as that constant lump in your throat finally loosens as you hiccup. Yoongi immediately has you back in his lap, tucking your chin over his shoulder as his hands run over your back.

“That's not true,” he says.

“Yes, it is,” you cry, pulling back to look at him. “He should have gone with my parents. I'm too fucked up for this shit. I'm too selfish for this.”

“Don't say that,” he chides.

“You don't even know the half of it,” you say through your tears. “You don't really even know me.”

“Then tell me,” he demands. “Stop hiding from me.”

“No!” You sob.

“Why?” He asks loudly.

“Because you won't want me if I do,” you cry.

“Sunshine, why are you crying,” Nicky asks, coming into the room before turning an angry glare to his basketball coach. “What did you do to her?”

“Nicks, stop,” you say, wiping your face quickly as you jump off of your boyfriend and walk up to your nephew. “He didn't do anything.”

“She's just upset,” Yoongi says, gently standing from the couch. “Everything is okay.”

“Why are those pictures out,” the teen says, marching over to the shoe box. Bending, he picks up the two pictures of his parents that lay on the coffee table. “I said that I didn't want their pictures out. I'm not ready for that yet!”

“I'm sorry,” you say. “I'll put them away.”

“It was my fault,” Yoongi steps in, lying for you. “I was asking questions.”

“Well, it's none of your business,” Nicky snaps. “I told you all you needed to know!”

“Nicky, stop it!” You demand.

“I understand…” Yoongi tries calming the young teen down, but he isn't having any of it.

“You don't understand shit,” he barks. “You're just trying to be nice to sleep with her! Stop trying to push yourself into our lives.”

“You watch your mouth,” you snap.

The two of you stand toe to toe. He's grown these past few months. You used to have a couple of inches on him, but now he's looking you dead in the eye. It wouldn't be long before he surpasses you. The hardness in his eyes that you have never seen before suddenly disappears as he crumbles into your body, taking you down onto the floor.

“Why did they have to leave me?” He cries into your chest.

You tightly wrap your arms around the boy, your body attempting to rock him back and forth like you would when he was a baby. Back when his mom would swaddle him in your arms, and you sang him to sleep. Back when everything was perfect and everyone was happy. Back when you were still innocent and thought the world was a safe place.

He was so big now.

His body, wrecked in sobs, could barely fit in your arms.

“They loved you so much,” you tell him, tilting his head up to look at you. “They would never willingly leave you. I know they would have given anything to be here with you.”

“I m.m..iss them so much,” he confesses with a stuttered whisper. “It's not fair. It is not fair that all of my friends get to have parents and I don't.”

“I know. I miss them too,” you whisper back through your own tears, cradling him as close as you could get. “Everyday.”

Turning back into your warmth, he cries. He cries for his parents and for the loss of his childhood. He cries for the sadness, the love, the anger, and all the other overwhelming emotions he feels. You stay quiet. You stay completely quiet and let him get it all out.

You're not sure how long you held him for, but just as your arms were getting tired Nicky shifts. Clutching the pictures to his chest, he stands from the ground and walks in front of Yoongi, looking a little embarrassed and much more calm.

“I’m sorry, coach,” he says, sniffing and red-faced. “I didn't mean what I said.”

“It's okay,” Yoongi promises and pats his shoulder softly. “We all say things we don't mean sometimes. I'm not mad. I promise.”

Taking you by surprise and more so Yoongi by surprise, Nicky launches himself at the blonde basketball coach and wraps his arms around him. You watch stunned as Yoongi hesitates for a moment before embracing your nephew. Pushing yourself off the floor, you approach the two of them with the intention of pulling Nicky away from Yoongi, but Yoongi stops you. Instead, he opens an arm for you, offering space for you to join them.

Entering the embrace, you press a kiss to your nephew’s head, making him turn to look at you. You run your thumbs over the tear tracks on his cheeks as he closes his eyes once more. You wish you could do more. This was all above you. He needed help that you couldn't give him.

“We need to get you back in bed,” you say softly. “I'll call you off school tomorrow if you want. We can take the day off together.”

“I need to go to practice,” he replies.

“I think you gave me a doctor's note,” Yoongi says. “You were too sick to go to school.”

Nicky nods his head, and you pull him away from Yoongi to guide him back to his room. As he climbs back in his bed, you pick up the scattered clothes that littered his bedroom floor. Throwing them in his dirty clothes basket, you take the pictures of his parents from his hands and place them on his nightstand.

“I'm sorry,” he breathes.

“You don't need to be sorry,” you say, pulling the covers up over his lap.

“Dad would have been pissed that I talked to coach like that,” he said.

“Watch it,” you say lightly. “You're very lucky that Yoongi is understanding and forgiving. Now, go back to sleep, and we can talk some more in the morning.”

You get up from the bed and head for the door, but his voice stops you, making you turn once more.

“I think he would have been proud too,” Nicky says. “Dad always worried about you, I think. He said it was his job to take care of you. Now that he's not here. It's my job.”

Fuck! This kid is going to kill you!

“It's your job to be a kid,” you disagree. “Now, go to sleep.”

Stepping out of his room, you close the door behind you. Taking a deep breath, you head for the living room once more, and you find Yoongi still standing in the same place where you left him. Stopping in front of him, you watch as he studies you for a moment. You don't blame him. You wouldn't know how to react either. Rising to your tiptoes, you throw your arms around his neck as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in tight to him.

“What do you need from me?” He asks. “I'm afraid to do the wrong thing right now.”

“Stay,” you mumble into the flesh of his neck. “I don't want to be alone tonight.”

“As you wish,” he whispers against your hair.

Turning your head, you lie it flat on his shoulder. Your eyes go to the mess of pictures on your table. You can't actually make any of them out, but you know what ones are over there by heart. Childhood pictures, Christmas mornings with your brothers in front of the tree, Halloween costumes, and everything in between. Closing your eyes, tears escape, rolling down your face, dripping off the tip of your nose, and onto his sweatshirt.

You were so tired.

Your heart ached horribly.

You missed your brother.

Your best friend.

Your confidant.

“Will it ever get better?” You ask him, your eyes still closed. “Will it ever not hurt?”

“I don't know,” he replies, honestly. “I can't make it stop hurting. I wish I could, but I can't.”

“I'm trying,” you say as you pull away from him. “I know you don't see it but..I'm trying.” He gives you a look of confusion as he tries to interpret your words. “I'm trying to figure out how to not hide from you.”

“Don't worry about that right now,” he says. “Whatever it is. Whenever you're willing to talk to me about it. You know where to find me, okay?”

You nod.

He's right.

You do know where to find him.

Usually… it's right by your side.

《Chapter 14》

A/N: So, in my original cut of this. Nicky got a little physical with both of them, and then I cut it. That's not him. Grief does strange things to people, but I don't think he would hurt her.

Tagged Readers:

@busanbby-jjk , @meelismee @jajabro , @wicked-game-black-butler

@wobblewobble882, @damn-u-min-yoongi @mintedagustd , @Granataepfelchen

@yoongiiuu93, @jimeg629 @jincapableoflove , @minghaosimp

@redragdoll, @ot72025, @seoullove96 , @our-cool-jenny

@kam9404 , @momma1 @amarawayne, @militrybarbi

@haileyborig, @bettytta, @ilikekpop-c @mar-lo-pap , @lattejimin,@butterymin

@thelilbutifulthings , @cannotalwaysbenight @notsooperfect

@muchwita , @maryhopemei, @rinkud, @misfits1a, @ktownshizzle

[official-cvntified-gay]

SILENT BET

pairing: kira timurov x fem!reader (bet)

theme: slow burn?????

note: just watch bet for the second time and I'm so obsessed with herrr, thee mother cuntress(my wife) this is set during yumekira's alliance

Everyone watches the ones who talk loudest.

The ones who scream when they win. Cry when they lose. And become house pets

But not you.

You don’t need the stage.

You place bets behind closed doors, in silence. High-stakes. Clean hands. Names heard but never repeated. A legacy who's known but ignored.

You’ve made a fortune on shadows.

But now the student council president is watching.

It starts with a glance. Not even a real one. A flicker. You feel it across the room before you see her.

It’s during a council-mandated match, a spectacle arranged for the lower ranks. Loud gamblers in louder blazers, shouting over borrowed chips. You’re not in the spotlight. You’re watching, same as her.

But she looks at you. Just once. And it lands like a knife against glass.

Not curiosity. Not boredom.

Recognition.

You look away first. She doesn’t.

She confronts you two days later.

Not in a dramatic scene, not for now. Kira doesn’t waste time on theatrics unless she’s already won.

She finds you alone in the corridor behind the north wing near the library, the kind of place most students avoid. Too far from the game halls, too close to the quiet.

“I hear you’ve been playing,” she says.

No hello. No name. Just the edge of her voice—low, cold, beautiful.

You don’t deny it. “I hear a lot of things too.”

There’s a pause, like she’s waiting to see what you’ll offer. But you give her nothing.

She steps closer, arms folded behind her back. Her uniform perfect. Her expression unreadable.

“I don’t like unknowns in my system,” she says.

“And I don’t like systems built on people bleeding for bets,” you reply.

That gets something. Not surprise but interest. Her gaze sharpens. It isn’t just the words. It’s the fact that you didn’t flinch when you said them..

“Then why gamble?” she asks.

You meet her eyes fully now, something simmering under your voice. “Because I don’t play to rise. I play to cut.”

That stops her.

Just long enough.

Long enough for something else to settle in the air between you , not threat, not quite. Something heavier. A shift in gravity.

You’re not what she thought.

You’re not trying to win her game.

You’re trying to dismantle it.

After that, she doesn’t look through you anymore.

You find her watching you across crowded halls, silent matches, c meetings where you don’t speak. Her gaze is a weapon, a question, a challenge.

But more than that—there’s hesitation.

Because she’s not sure if she wants to destroy you or understand you.

And you’re not sure which would be worse.

The next time you speak, it’s late. Quiet. The world outside is asleep, but St. Dominic's never is.

She finds you sitting at the edge of the old arena, where games used to be held before the new wing was built. It’s empty now. Dusty. Forgotten. You like it that way.

“You were supposed to stay hidden,” she says behind you.

You don’t turn around. “You were supposed to be smarter.”

She laughs. Actually laughs. Not loud. Not performative. It slips out of her like she forgot herself for a second.

And when she sits beside you, she doesn’t speak for a long time.

You feel it more than hear it, the weight of legacy pressing on both of you. Her father. Yours. The way their choices turned into your nightmares.

“I know what you’re doing,” she says quietly. “This slow war.”

You look at her then. Really look.

She’s beautiful in the way silence is, sharp, polished, waiting. But there’s something else there now. A softness around the edges. A weight she doesn’t know how to name.

“I’m not trying to win,” you say. “I’m trying to stop this from swallowing us.”

For a moment, her mask cracks.

And she says, barely audible:

“Then maybe we’re not on opposite sides.”

Not a confession. Not forgiveness. But something dangerously close to surrender.

You don’t reach for her. She doesn’t lean in.

But when she stands, she hesitates, just long enough for you to see it.

The doubt.

The curiosity.

The possibility.

“You’re still a threat,” she says.

You smile faintly. “So are you.”

And as she walks away, you both understand:

This isn’t the end.

It’s the beginning of something neither of you were trained for.

Something that can’t be gambled.

Only felt.

[tonycries]

The Way You Kiss Me - G.S.

Synopsis. The four times Satoru tries really hard not to kiss you - his best friend’s pretty younger sister. And the one time he doesn’t.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! Suguru’s sister! reader, childhood enemies to lovers, PINING Satoru, like really really disgustingly down bad, creampíe, oral (fem receiving), pússytalking, needy JEALOUS! Satoru, running away from it, spítting, punching is Suguru’s love language, mentions of aIcohol, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 7.4k (That’s wild)

A/N. BOO! Surprise upload. This was so fun to write omg.

“You sure this is how the grown-ups get married?”

“Duh, I know everything.”

“Nuh uh, Toru.”

“Yuh uh!”

The first time Gojo Satoru kissed you was underneath that dingy playground slide that the two of you always raced to after elementary school. 

Usually, your older brother, Suguru, would walk home alongside you two - but this time, he’d just so happened to have been held back for throwing paper planes at the teacher that day.

A sign from the universe, Satoru internally celebrated, something he’d learned from those sappy romance novels his mother left lying around the house. No matter that he was the one that made those planes.

You were six back then, standing in front of a determined Satoru - reaching up on his tip-toes, face pink, smelling of those cheap strawberry lollipops he’d sneak into class and taunt you with. At the much older and wiser age of seven, he’d insisted on being the first one to lean in.

Just barely even grazing your dramatically puckered lips before-

Satoru learned two things that fateful afternoon:

Even as a seven-year-old, Suguru’s punches really hurt. 

Never mess with you. Anyone but you. 

Life only seemed to go downhill from there - because that last lesson was proving to be hard along the years. Really. Fucking. Hard.

Little did Satoru know that this would be the start of some strange, unpredictable little dance of push and pull. No, you definitely weren’t his wife. Nor were you exactly best friends - not really, that spot was reserved for your brother. But you didn’t think you could ever be just that either.

And the punch that’d knocked his wobbly tooth out onto the playground floor that day was a painful reminder that whatever that was - whatever weird thoughts he had later in middle school about how you’d tasted like candy - didn’t matter. No matter how part some tucked-away little part of him wanted it to.

Hell, eleven years later and Satoru still can’t walk around that familiar block without feeling slightly queasy. Which is why, after that failed first kiss, he knew there wouldn’t be a second. 

Instead, he settles back to teasing your pouty self, pushing all your buttons, tugging on those cute dresses you wore. Face burning so strangely with- humiliation? when you bickered right back, calling his haircut a “tragic attempt at modern art.”

“So you’re saying I look like art?” A gangly, now-seventeen Satoru blocks the bustling high school hallway, ignoring the bell. Grin only growing at your frustrated huff, he half-jokes, “Aww, if you’re that soft on me, sweetheart, maybe we should go to prom tog-”

You slam your locker, effectively shutting both it and Satoru at the same time. “I’d rather go with Yaga.”

“...you would not.”

“Would to.”

“Would not.”

“Would to.”

“Would- Sugu–!”

And all Suguru can do is wrap two hands around his neck, mock-choking himself, wondering if it was really too late to embrace a quiet life as a monk. “You’ll both be MLA cited in my farewell note.”

He was used to it, though, forced to watch all this chaos since quickly mending his friendship with Satoru over ice cream the day after the punch. Convinced that this was some punishment for a past life’s misdeed.

With a squawk of protest, Satoru’s turning back to you, eyes crinkling with a hint of mischief you knew too well, “Would not.”

Your face burns, “Would to, Toru.”

You didn’t go with Yaga. but Satoru didn’t exactly count that as a win in his books, either, because you did show up that night hanging off the arm of some jerk from the football team. 

And there you were, all dolled up - which he very objectively noted - way too prettily for some bastard like him. Stars in your eyes, and everything he couldn’t have in that smile. 

Everything. 

Way too gorgeous, even when he finds you sitting outside the gymnasium later on in the night. Too busy bawling your mascara off to even throw out your usual greeting insult his way. Murmuring out wetly about “that asshole” and how he humiliated you by stranding you in the middle of the dance floor for someone else. 

“Well, he was a jerk anyway. Even Yaga would’ve been better, hell, I-” Satoru stops short to his horror at the way you only cry harder.

Way too irresistible, especially as his body moves before his mind - holding out an open hand before he knows it. “I’m a much better dancer than him and you.” And oh Satoru will forever remember the way his heart lurches as you blink your teary eyes up in confusion, “Well, aren’t ya gonna take up the challenge?”

Weirdly, it wasn’t weird at all. 

If anything, you had to hold back your laughter the entire time at the way the great “campus sweetheart” Gojo Satoru was so on edge.

Just a friend comforting a friend, right?

So why was he avoiding your gaze with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, summer blue eyes pointedly trained right over your head. That pretty pink blush dusting his cheeks reflecting the hands hovering in midair over your waist. So close - and yet, fear in each and every turn and swirl.

Yours were searing into his broad shoulders as you tried to guide him to the muffled music from inside. And shit.

That night ended with a second kiss. 

You don’t know who leaned in first, just that Satoru’s soft lips were just fleeting on your glossy ones - barely even a touch. And that shit shit shit- this was Satoru. This was you. 

Everything. 

But it seems that every time Satoru was about to kiss you dangerously close to the way some tiny, forbidden part of his heart wanted to - the universe throws an obstacle at him. An obstacle that was six feet and named “Suguru”, currently running at break-neck speed out of the gym.

“MOVE YOUR ASSES!” he cackles, “THE FOOTBALL TEAM ISN’T TOO HAPPY ABOUT ME BREAKING THEIR STAR PLAYER’S NOSE.”

And not a word is uttered about the kiss as the three of you speed out of the school parking lot in Suguru’s busted-up black hellcat, the wind mussing up the hairstyle that took Satoru over two hours to perfect. Sneaking in glances at the sight of you singing along at the top of your lungs to some overplayed pop song on the radio. 

He learns another two things that night:

Apparently, Suguru’s right hook still really fucking hurt. And thank god for tonight’s casualties of noses, because it was a wonder that he didn’t look too hard at how close Satoru was with you. 

He didn’t…dislike the feeling of your lips on his. And judging by the way you meet his eyes in the rearview mirror - you didn’t either.

It’s mainly that last one that makes him gulp.

Neither of you remember the third kiss - though, Satoru’s sure that at least 80% of Shoko’s instagram followers did.

According to a very hungover Shoko, and the many, many forms of documentation, it had happened on the New Year’s eve during your third year in university. In which you were much more used to the raging parties that would be hosted at Suguru’s apartment, and only slightly less intimidated by them.

“And you’re a lightweight too, dumbass. You were gone.” Shoko sighs from across the café table, eye bags deeper than the last time he’d seen her. “Like gone gone.”

God, what a way to start the year.

Satoru bites back a remark about how “gone” Shoko herself had been. Sitting up straight in his seat, regret immediately hitting his senses faster than the guilty throbbing at his temples. He winces, managing out a semi-disbelieving groan of, “Gone gone?”

And she’s only nodding wearily, subconsciously tapping out the rest of her cigarette ashes onto his untouched plate of sweet pastries. 

“I’m talking dancing on expensive coffee tables and fighting to stop you from giving everyone there a strip show.” She cracks a smirk through a waft of smoke, “Though, she would’ve loved that I’m sure.”

“Har har har, you’d make even Nanami laugh with that one.”

“Eugh, gross.” Shoko taps through her phone briefly, swirling it around to show Satoru a few pictures that definitely gave him a mini-heart attack at 8:57 in the morning. “You look like you’re about to pen really bad poetry.”

And perhaps this was Shoko’s plan all along - to shock Satoru to the core hard enough that she can note it down as one of her sketchy psychological experiments. 

But he knew. Could feel it in the hazy fragments of memories - or, at the very least, in that entire highlight that Nanamin had oh-so-conveniently put up on Instagram titled, “Blackmail.”

You knew. 

You’d kissed him back. 

“I don’t have a-.” you slur, stumbling ever-so-slightly as you try to meet Satoru’s glassy eyes. Because shit the years have had him shooting up faster than you could look up. “-a New Year’s kiss, y’know.”

You were older - more gorgeous, if that was even possible now. That tight dress hugging your body so unfairly in a way that had him forgetting you were his best friend’s sister. 

The one person in this whole world that he couldn’t have.

But Satoru leans in closer, more because he wants to than anything - he could pick out your voice anywhere let alone over the thumping music currently filling his crowded living room. Lips loose as he tries to play up the cool-guy facade he’s been dubbed with since freshman year, “Hah, loser. Because I do.”

“Where?”

At this, Satoru is stumped - damn, you were good. 

“Not- uh here?” If he was in any clearer state of mind, he’d have been embarrassed at the way his voice cracks so traitorously as your unsteady hands pull him in closer by his overpriced button-up. 

Your body was flush against his now, so addictive. Gaze half-lidded and flickering between the sliver of milky skin exposed on his chest - from that impromptu striptease he’d almost started earlier - and the blue eyes that were currently locked you. You whisper a strained, “Liar.”

Close - too close. So dangerously close.

He breathes out against your lips, the smell of booze and you so heady in his mind. And the heavy words falling from his lips sound like lies, even to him. “Not.”

“Toru?” you hum, a sound that has him gasping. “Shut up.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

And there went your New Year’s kisses. At exactly 11:37PM, if the photos were anything to go by. 

And holy shit were there many. All of which showed your arms looped around Satoru’s neck, crashing his lips to yours. His own, resting against your waist, a scandalously red blush - whether from the alcohol or you - adorning his cheeks. Looking more blissed out than he ever remembers feeling. 

“I’m a dead man, Shoko.” 

There’s a lengthy silence, leaving Satoru stewing in thoughts of how Suguru would react once he finds out. And whether or not he’d be able to rise from the dead just to see how pretty you’d look at his funeral.

Morbid thoughts broken only by Shoko’s cough, “Hey, can I keep your eyes for experimentation if he actually catches you?”

Subtly, he sends himself those photos from last night.  

Luckily for Satoru’s eyes, they never ended up being donated towards Shoko’s questionable contributions to the world of medicine. 

And by some grace of the gods above, Suguru never mentioned a word about the kiss that would’ve inevitably made its way to him. Or maybe it was because Satoru stole his phone until he managed to pester Nanami just enough to take down that highlight. But, semantics. 

His heart, however, might as well have been part of some experiment.

Because it’s been working overdrive since that night - mind reliving that moment over and over and over and- shit, he’s fucked. So, so fucked. 

Fucked enough that it took Satoru months just to muster up to even look in your pretty eyes once more, unless he wanted to get lost in them forever. Fucked enough that he dared to wonder again and again when there might be a fourth kiss - if there would be a fourth kiss. 

He just never thought it would happen the way it did - with you, standing outside his front door. 

“I’m sorry, Toru.” you mumble, “It’s just- I think we both need to grow up.”

You’ve freshly graduated now, looking more and more irresistible each time he sees you - even when you’re looking at him like that. 

Rolling his eyes, “Ha, is this another way of saying you want my secret to getting taller? Because the first thing is to-”

“I’m serious, Satoru.”

And oh how he wished you’d say something - anything - else right now. Call him anything but that. Maybe even throw an insult his way, tell him those new sunglasses look ugly, or about how you got that internship he would’ve died for. 

Satoru manages to choke out a heavy, “I don’t understand.” But that uncomfortable coil of something curling at the pit of his stomach said otherwise. And it causes him to finally breathe out a hesitant, “Maybe you’re right.”

As if that was all the answer you needed, you’re stepping out of the front door. Slow, and deliberate like you were giving him another chance - a thousand more. Sighing out a defeated, “It’s been years.” It has. “And we’re just running in circles.” You have. “I’m starting to think this is just some game to you.” It wasn’t.

“Wait!” he grasps your hand - soft. The look in your eyes even softer as you turn around to face his desperate face. “Please, sweetheart.”

Satoru doesn’t even know what words he wants to say - let alone whether they’d come out of his heavy mouth. 

So, instead, he’s crashing them into yours. 

Brief. Fleeting. Like each one before this. Too addictive, too short, that he thinks he’s almost imagining it as you pull away gently, until he sees that look in your eyes. 

“Toru, I have a date.”

The fourth kiss.

Satoru’s letting go of you like it burned - and, truly, it felt like some deep, dark part of him was burning down right now. “Great.” That should be hm that should be him that should be- “I’m…happy for you.”

And the last.

He fucked up.

He really, really fucked up.

That first date turned into a second. The second into a third. And unfortunately for Gojo, eventually, you were nearing your one-year anniversary with that asshat you’d met during the early days of your internship. 

He’d seen the man himself once, briefly at another one of Suguru’s famous parties. Ducking out of sight before he could be introduced, yet long enough to know that he wasn’t as tall, or as handsome, or as absolutely fucking hilarious. 

What did he have that Satoru didn’t? 

The answer to that, Satoru’s reminded of every time he’s causing ruckus over at Suguru’s apartment, and sees you walking out of your room, tittering on the phone to none other than your boyfriend. So gorgeous. So not his. 

You, that loser had you.

“If you sigh again I swear I’m shoving this popcorn up your a-”

“It’s a sad movie, Suguru!” he defends, draped across your couch at another one of those movie nights you loved to organize. As usual, there was the popcorn, the god-awful movie (if Satoru picks it), and the arguments. The only thing missing, however, was you. Ugh, something about an “anniversary” and a “seafood date”. Seriously, it’s not like you even enjoyed that new seafood restaurant in town, and he’s sure that bastard didn’t know-

“Satoru.” his best friend’s deadpan voice cuts through his little reverie. “We’re watching Mean Girls.”

And he’s barely even opening his mouth to snark back before-

SLAM!

Suguru pauses the movie almost immediately, turning to the direction of the front door. “Uh oh.” 

And lo and behold - there was you in all your pissed off, beautiful glory. Throwing your keys on the table, your fiery glare passes over the two men as you stomp to your bedroom. 

“Seafood wasn’t that good, sweetheart?” Satoru calls out behind you, eyes sweeping down your figure. Heart stuttering in his chest when you turn around with your fists clenched, lower lip wobbling in a way that Satoru would both kill whoever made you feel this way and die to be on the other side of those daggers in your eye. 

Sniffing out an icy, “Fuck off, loser and loserette.”

Then in a whirlwind of rage, you’re gone - your bedroom door slamming only slightly more gently than you’d done with the front door. Leaving a deafening silence, and Satoru whining, “Why am I the loserette?”

“Deserved.” Suguru shrugs. Warily eyeing your door, as if it was about to pounce at any given second, “Let her cool down before you give her an aneurysm at least.” Unpausing the television, propping his feet back up, “S’enough having to deal with you on top of a boyfriend like that.”

And that has Satoru perking up in interest - both figuratively, and literally as he snatches the remote and pauses the movie. “Wait wait wait what-” Holding it way out of Suguru’s reach, “What do you mean a ‘boyfriend like that’?”

Scoffing, “Funny. Now give me back the remote.”

A beat of silence passes. One. Two.

Only then does it dawn on Suguru that this might just not be some strange prank to stroke Satoru’s ego, and he was actually  more serious than he’d ever seen him. Damn. 

“Bro, have you really never met the guy or something? He’s a complete tool. I don’t know what happened, but this breakup was a long time coming.”

Satoru blinks, feeling a red hot surge of anger. “What? Seriously? Why didn’t you do anything about it?”

“You think I didn’t try?” he sighs, running a hand through his hair at the other’s uncharacteristic silence. “Hah, and just imagine, the man was talking about marriage, too. As if.”

And suddenly, Satoru’s hit with an image of you walking down the aisle. Not something he was a stranger to, but it still takes him aback. The sway of the fabric beneath his fingers, your lips against his. Hell, in that split-second he even dreams up how Nanamin would be crying very reluctant tears of joy. 

Everything. Everything that wasn’t his.

His fist tightens around the remote, until he could hear the cracking of plastic. Mind whirling with the thought of you and him and you. How he wished it was him and you. “I would’ve been better.”

Oh. 

Shit. 

“I- fuck this. Suguru, since elementary school I…”

And, well, Satoru’s so busy putting that extra physics seminar he took in university to work - trying to calculate the odds of surviving a jump out of this seven-storey window - that he almost misses Suguru’s low hum, a distant, almost barely-audible little interruption, “Well duh.”

“Hold on.” he’s snatching away the remote that had somehow slithered its way into the other’s hands once again. Ignoring his best friend’s croak of protests to pause in the middle of Regina George being hit by the bus - which, he felt was strangely enviable right now. “That was- what? YOU KNOW?”

“Huh? Even my parents know, the only one that doesn’t is her.”

“...”

Satoru didn’t know how Suguru seemed so calm, but he felt like he was about to spontaneously combust. Heart stuttering in his chest as he sideglances at your firmly shut door - like he was just waiting for you to jump out and tell him this was some elaborate prank. 

Begging for you to come - it would’ve hurt less.

But you don’t.

Fuck. 

And the only response he gets is a low whistle, before a phone is being shoved in his face - flashlight illuminating that crimson blush. “Damn, the great Gojo Satoru speechless? The groupchat is gonna love this, might even send it to my sister, y’know.” 

He didn’t care - didn’t give a shit if this video made rounds to Gakuganji himself. Only one thought racing through his mind right now. 

“But why aren’t you punching me like in elementary school?” 

And Satoru knows he’s smart - intelligent even. Hell, he was the valedictorian, the youngest employee to claw their way up to being on the board of directors. But he’s never felt more stupid when Suguru breathes out a bewildered, “Dude. That was for blaming me for the paper planes.” 

“Oh.”

Then the movie is unpaused. 

---

The last time you kissed Gojo Satoru was at the doorstep to that overpriced penthouse of his, exactly a year ago today. 

The last time you saw Gojo Satoru was just a few hours ago, lounging around your living room like he owned it. Honestly, he might as well have been part of the furniture at this point - like some expensive, fluffy couch. One that prattled on about your “dumbass boyfriend” and god-knows-what else to rile you up just for the fun of it.

Which is why it was odd to step out of your bedroom - eyes just a bit puffy, throat still tight - to a suspiciously quiet hallway. 

The lights were turned off, nothing but the pouring rain sounding from outside, television paused on some rerun of The Princess Diaries. Damn, you told those idiots not to start that one without you.

“Sugu?” you call, finding his bedroom empty. “Thought tonight was movie night?” Padding across the empty apartment, contemplating whether or not to get your phone and call him when-

Ding!

Ah, there. 

You roll your eyes as you head towards the front door, ready to give Suguru a piece of his mind for going out at this ungodly hour and forgetting his key. Seriously, what if you opened the door and he was hurt, or worse, or…

Satoru. 

Speaking a mile a minute.

Satoru.

“-florist was closed and the store clerk looked at me like I was crazy but I got this for-” he pauses abruptly, as if realizing something with a jolt. “-you.”

“You- what-” you don’t know where to look - at the drenched, disheveled Satoru filling your doorframe - rain in his hair, curtaining his frantic eyes, drenching his snug t-shirt. Or at the obscenely large bouquet of cheap strawberry lollipops being placed gently into your arms. 

What follows was an electric silence - and you have half the mind to tease Satoru for finally shutting the fuck up for once in his life. 

But, no. Instead, you eye the way he stands stubbornly at the doorway, fists clenched, blue eyes locked so intensely on yours that it was like they burned. 

Face flushed a familiar pretty pink that makes you realize that shit, he might be taller, voice deeper, broad shoulders tight against his t-shirt - but this was still the same boy that cried when you stole his favorite Digimon card in middle school. The same one that kissed you underneath a dingy slide, smelling of strawberry lollipops.

It’s the steady tap! tap! tap! of the water droplets from his hair that have you tearing your traitorous eyes from his see-through white t-shirt.

Guess you’ve both done some growing up since then.

“You loser.”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

The pink wrapping of the bouquet rustles as your grip tightens. “He proposed to me today, y’know.” and yet, your quiet, even voice was the only thing ringing in Satoru’s ears. He jolts, as if some visceral, primal part of himself had been poked awake. Breathing heavy, fists clenching until he could feel the neat indents of his fingernails on his palm. Of course. He’s late. He’s late he’s late he’s late-

That is, until you’re plowing on, “I said no.”

“Huh?”

You think back to the stuffy restaurant, the man sitting from across from you - how wrong it felt. And all it took were those four words for you to realize that. “I said no.” 

Satoru snaps his head up, stepping close - so close. Voice strained like he wasn’t asking - begging. Praying, “Why?”

“We…” you raise a brow at the way Satoru flinches as you trail off. So desperate. A smirk makes its way onto your face, “...we haven’t divorced yet, right?”

And then you’re kissing him - or maybe he’s kissing you. 

Fuck, you don’t know - nor do you really care right now. Not when Satoru’s got his lips crashing against yours for the fifth time in your life, kissing you like it would be the last. Big arms dipping down to your waist, pulling you so tight against his muscled frame that he had half the mind to wonder whether it hurt. 

“Love this. Love the way you kiss me- fuck-” he’s spitting against your lips, kicking the door shut behind him. “Oh- would ya get mad if I-” he tries to get out through kisses. Only to suck on your pretty lips with a pained grunt. “If I-” Again and again, like it killed him to part. “-hah- celebrated right now?”

“Yes.” You’re letting the bouquet fall to the foor, white-knuckling that useless, drenched excuse of a shirt. “Now kiss me properly, Toru.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Such a sloppy mix of teeth and hands and him. Shoving a knee between your legs, making up for years and years of late nights with nothing but his fist and the pretty thought of you. 

“Yeah, that’s it, sweetheart.” Satoru breathes out, as your urgent fingers that dispose of his shirt, feeling the gorgeous dips and curves of years of hard work to impress you. “Suck on m’tongue pretty- fuck-” His own fisting your shirt, pulling. Ripping.

“Toru!”

“I want you.” He’s letting the poor, tattered pieces drop in a pile on the floor, trailing a hand between your damp thighs before he can stop himself. “Oh how I’ve wanted you. And I don’t care if I have to buy fifty new outfits to make up for it.”

And it’s the feeling of his long index stroking up your sopping slit through your shorts that has you pulling away with a gasp. Delicate little strings of saliva snapping from Satoru’s kiss-bitten lips. “If we continue like this…” your voice wavers as he presses hot kisses along your collarbone. “-my brother’s gonna walk in.”

“...wouldn’t wanna relive that playground kiss, huh?”

It’s all he says before picking you up so easily, hands resting on your ass. Giving a playful spank ass you wrap your legs around his toned waist. 

And it’s sloppy.

Both his lips still hotly on yours and the way he’s stumbling urgently to your room through pure muscle memory. Pulling away only when you’re all splayed out so prettily for him on your mattress.

“Blue?” he breathes, pulling your shorts off. And it comes out strained - like the very sight of your panties - all soaked and flimsy with your slick - has whatever’s remaining of Satoru’s sanity flying out the window. “Blue? Oh, you’ve gotta have planned this, you little minx.” his hot breath hits your cunt as he shifts down the bed, tongue drawing languid, wet little circles on your inner thigh. “Because don’t tell me this was all for him?”

It was coincidence - or maybe fate - but that doesn’t stop you from giving Satoru a slow, teasing nod. Muttering out, “So what if it was?”

The only answer you get is thumb hooked around your shorts, pulling it just enough so that your brother’s best friend can spy your pretty pussy.

“Well then.” he chuckles at the way you jump when his fingertip just barely grazes your clit. “Guess I jus’ hafta prove m’better.”

A low groan is falling from his lips as soon as they meet your puffy ones, giving your pretty clit a chaste peck. Lingering long enough that he’s sure your sweet sweet juices cover his mouth.

And oh Satoru’s sure he’ll never forget the way your jaw falls slack, glassy eyes following his every move as he runs his tongue along his glossy lips. Savoring your candied taste, “Never kissed you like this before, huh?” 

Fuck, you’re sweeter than he’s imagined.

You whine desperately, something that has him smirking smugly, “Hah, what? Cat got your tongue?”

“You’re better when you shut up.” It’s all you can do to buck your hips into Satoru’s pretty face - not that you had to, because one taste of your dripping cunt and he was addicted. Surging forwards until he was nose-deep, locking your ankles around his head with a firm yank.

And you can’t lie - maybe you’ve imagined this exact scene a few times before on those lonely nights. But you just never expected Satoru to be so depraved. Desperate.

“Ngh- fuck, Toru-” you reach a hand down to thread your fingers through his hair, tugging his face up. But Satoru doesn’t stop - not even for a second. Tongue still dipping to spread your swollen folds with his tongue, looking you right in the eyes as he murmurs a strangled, “Mhm?” 

“Thought you were gonna prove you’re better, hm?”

So goading. So like you. 

At this, Satoru pulls back ever-so-slightly to laugh - laugh. His plump, glistening lips curling into a humorless little grin, “Oh I will.” Thumb circling your throbbing clit. Just dragging your twitching body across the silky sheets close to his, one hand pinning your hips down. Hard. “I will.”

Loving his new favorite place between your legs one hand toys with your clit, quick, messy little patterns. Tongue even more so. 

“Not just better.” he grunts, “Gonna make you cum so much harder, too.” Having your thighs shake with each word hissed out into your cunt, each turn of his deft fingers. “Till I’m the only thing on your mind. Me.”

And it’s all you can do to let out choked up groans of his name, back arching off the plush mattress to let him make out with your cunt deeper. Sloppier. So, so starved with the way he’s speeding up, tongue dragging across your walls. In and out in and out in and-

“Fuck! Hngh-” you angle his head - and he lets you. “There- Toru-”

Honestly, you didn’t even have to tell Satoru - he could feel it. Could feel it in the way your plushy walls are squeezing his hot tongue so harsh, until it was almost difficult to fuck your pussy so sloppily. In the way you’re letting out such delicious whines each time he grazes against those sweet spots. 

“There? Hah- I know.” he pulls away to muse, and your cute, disappointed whine goes straight to his already rock-hard cock. “Did he?”

He didn’t. And you’re shaking your head so pathetically - in a way you’d be embarrassed about usually. 

But that’s the last thing you’re thinking bout because you feel it - the cold, sinful feeling of Satoru spitting on your filthy cunt. Once. Twice. Blue eyes widening in delight at the way the mess of spit and slick drip down your slit. 

“Cute.” his tongue smoothes over the slutty pool, and the only thing your delirious brain can make out now is a low moan of, “So? Who’s better?”

It’s all you can do to choke out a broken little, “T-T-” Face burning at the way he was so clearly enjoying your struggle. And, well, no matter painfully hard it made his dick - he had to go just a bit easy on his girl, right?

“Shhhh, s’alright.” you flinch as he shoves two absolutely drenched fingers into your mouth, making so much more of a mess of it than necessary. Drinking in your cute gags, “I was asking her.” He’s making your head spin with the way he’s speeding up. “N’ she’s hah- very talkative.” Words muffled, and slurring together - like he was drunk off of you and your cunt. “Let’s hear what she has to ngh- say, huh?”

And with that, he’s alternating between lapping at your clit and squeezing into your sloppy entrance - like he couldn’t - didn’t - want to make up his mind. Oh, with your teary mewls strangled, the sound of Satoru making out with cunt is so loud. The squelches so obscene. 

“Fuuuuck.” he drawls. “Louder than I thought. I think she says I’m better, don’t you think?” 

You angle your head just right to catch the way his jaw grinds deeper into you, eating you out like his last meal. Your slick drooling down his chin so sinfully. 

“Ngh- fuck fuck fuck- ngh-” your yelps are dreamy, feeling like you were losing your mind with the way he was stretching you out. 

Like you were about to snap. Any second now. 

But Satoru’s only increasing his movements, drawing out your little moans. “And I think she’s saying…”  Getting sloppier. More erratic - and it didn’t matter if his fingers were cramping up now, cock aching with the need to be inside you. “-that she’s about to cum.”

You do - so hard and loud - both you and your cunt. 

You’re shaking, all but gushing all over Satoru’s mouth, tight pussy squeezing his tongue so hard. Barely even realizing the searing grip you’ve got on his hair as you drag your sloppy pussy all over his mouth.

But Satoru doesn’t mind - he gladly welcomes it, in fact. Tonguefucking your snug cunt senselessly, letting you chase your high as roughly as you wanted. Over and over.

Even when you’re vision isn’t as spotty as before, even when nothing’s coming out of your mouth but little whimpers. Your breathing dying down until all that rings in your barely-lucid mind were those obscene noises of Satoru’s lips all on yours. 

“T-Toru-” you whine, big fat tears pricking at your hazy eyes. “M’so sensitive.”

And of course this is Satoru, the same boy who’s been pushing your buttons for years just to giggle at your adorable reactions. Which is why he grins against your twitching cunt, “So?”

It takes everything in you to raise your head off the pillow that just seemed to be swallowing you whole, and even more to shoot Satoru a half-hearted glare. “So m’gonna ngh- assume you’re jus’ a pussy with a s-smaller dick than-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence - he doesn’t let you. Because Satoru’s fumbling with his belt, peeling off those still-drenched pants just enough for you to admire his clothed erection. 

And, shit, admittedly you expected him to have a big dick - having been subjected to way too much locker room talk with your brother - but this was ridiculous. 

“What? Too big?” He flashes you that infuriating grin. Palming his rock-hard cock through his boxers at the way your beautiful eyes trace the outline of his cock, all swollen and big. So intimidatingly big. “Damn, sweetheart, if I knew that this was how I’d get that feisty lil’ mouth of yours to shut up then I’d have done it a lot sooner.” 

And you don’t even know if you’re breathing, the pads of your fingers dancing along his bulge. Tracing those prominent veins. Thumbing that little damp spot at his fat head. “You wouldn’t have.” 

He hisses as your soft hands dip into the hem of his underwear. Voice cracking slightly, “I wouldn’t.”

Then you’re gasping - in sync with Satoru’s low moan - as you finally let him spring free. Thick cock hitting his sculpted abs, red tip smearing precum in a lewd little pool. Weeping and so so angry at the sight of you.

At the heavenly feeling of your thumb teasing under his sensitive slit, “Oh, shit.” 

He’s throwing his head back when you give an experimental pump, all the way from his pretty tip to the tufts fo white at his hilt. Fist gliding all over the thumping veins. Bucking his hips up like such a slut into your touch. 

“O-oh fuck.” he cracks an eye open at the way your hand looked so small compared to his dick, how well you were taking care of him. “Been ngh- dreaming of this since I learned what handjobs were, y’know? Hah- shit- ya gotta stop before I fuckin’ pass out.”

And Satoru thinks he could cum right then and there at the way you’re bringing your soaked index up to your mouth. Batting your lashes as you suck on them with a lewd pop! “From jus’ that?”

“You have no idea.”

That’s all it takes for Satoru to throw your still-quivering thighs over his shoulders, effectively shutting up whatever tease is on the tip of your sharp tongue by kissing your swollen folds with his fat head. Giving it one, long drag. 

Your mouth is sagging open at the slow, torturous teasing. The sheer anticipation that had your mouth running, “S-so much for ah- jus’ being ‘friends’, huh?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” And you’re flinching from Satoru’s deep, dark tone. The way he’s bracing his fingers so bruisingly on your hips, reeling all the way back till his tip was just kissing your hole. “We stopped being friends the day you married me on that playground.” 

And then he’s slamming in - pushing past that first, feeble ring of resistance, gummy walls stretching out so perfectly for him. As if he fit right in - and he tells you that. Pants it into your open mouth a little over fifteen times, in fact. 

“Shiiiit, look at you.” he can’t tear his eyes away from the side of your lips stretching so wide to try and milk him. Sloppy entrance stretching out like magic. “S’like you’re made for me, huh? This pussy is made f’me?”

“Ngh- fuck, Toru! S’too big-” you keen, feet flattening on the mattress. As if to escape. To maybe fucking breathe.  

Not even half-way in yet, but aleady torn between pushing away and sinking yourself down on his swollen cock for more more more-

“Don’t you dare run away.” he warns, looking up at you through his long lashes. “I’ve waited too long for this. N’ you’re not taking this pretty pussy away any time soon.” Inch by fucking inch. Grinding in short, sharps jabs - no rhythm of rhyme, like they were genuinely out of control. “Way too f-fuckin’-” All the way until your puffy folds was meeting his hilt. Finally. All the way in. “-long.”

And once Satoru had you split apart on his dick - had those tears rolling down your cheeks, cunt swallowing him so sluttily - it’s like something snaps. 

Because he doesn’t waste a second - he’s already wasted almost two decades, anyway - filling you up with his mean hips. Not fucking easing you into it because you always did bring out that part of him, the part that him looping two strong arms around your waist. Pulling. 

“Oh- f-fuck c’mere.” Satoru gasps, pressing your body so crushingly against his. Kissing your shaky shoulers, your sweaty forehead, the gentleness so contrasting to his hips.“God I’ve missed out- fuck fuck fuck-” 

You’ve never seen the great Gojo Satoru - campus sex symbol - so uncomposed. Eyes half-lidded, just boring into yours, mouth slack in a soft oh! as he drags his cock all over inside your gummy walls. And the sight is so heavenly that you make the mistake the mistake of cracking a minute smile.

Just barely curling your lips before - “Don’t smile at me like that.” He’s dipping down a hand to roll your ravaged clit between two bullying fingers. “Fuck, she’s gonna be the death of me. Right?”

You keen at the- stimulation? The strech? The sheer embarrassment as you realize that Satou’s still talking to your sloppy pussy? Nodding so mockingly up at you as he plows on, “Mhm, she says you needa be ngh- knocked down a god, you’re tight- peg or two. So- get- ready-” 

He’s using this as an excuse to sit up on his knees, dragging you onto his lap so easily like some ragdoll. 

“That’s more like it.”

You’re sliding deeper down his painfully hard cock - all the way till his heavy balls rest beneath your ass, clit rubbing against his pelvis every time he bounces you like some slut.  

Deep. Ruthless.

“Keep your eyes open, sweetheart.” He chuckles, and you’re screwing open your eyes that you don’t even remember shutting. Trying so hard to stop crying out at the feeling of the curve of his dick massaging your walls. “Ya gotta hngh- see the o-only one who’d fuckin’ you properly, right?”

You squeal when he’s taking your clit captive once more. Finger quick, deft. “Y-yes.”

But that wasn’t enough for Satoru - it might as well never be. Because he’s only ramming his hips up further. Like he’s pushing into your stomach, your lungs, all the way into your cockdrunk brain. Fat head alternating between kissing your poor, abused cervix and all those sweet spots he’d mapped out with his tongue.

“Sounded unsure to me.” he’s pouty against your hardened nipples bouncing enticingly in his face. Fingers quirking faster on your clit, “Maybe I should ngh- stop then?”

“No!” Your hips stutter against Satoru’s. Nails clawing down the sculpted panes of his shoulders, leaving red angry marks for him to take as a sign tomorrow morning that no, it wasn’t just one of his dreams this time. “No no no- m’sure. You’re the only one makin’ me feel this way.”

You can feel the way he’s twitching wildly at your words, dick thumping harder inside your sensitive cunt. 

He punctures each word with a heavy, calculated thrust. Hand stretching and squeezing open your cunt from behind to let him slide impossibly deeper. “Hmmm, I’m not convinced.” 

Your stupid mouth is only capable of letting out broken, choked-up little moans of his name, ankles locking around those dimples at the end of his spine. “S’you–”

“Still not convinced.”

But he’s still speeding up his movements, just dragging you up and down his cock. “Who else made you hah- feel this good?” Sure to claim you from the inside out - to leave marks everywhere. Heavy balls on your ass, weeping tip on your cervix, lips bruised as you whimper at his murmured, “That ex of yours?” Biting down your neck, “That barista that always flirts with you?” Pulling away only to breathe into your lips, “Who?”

“ I- fuck it’s only you, Toru.”

“Sound convincing to you?” Satoru hums down at your cunt, biting his lower lip at the way you were milking him so good. Your slick soaking him all the way down to his balls - so needy in a way he never thought he’d see. “Yeah-” be breathes, nosing at your neck. “She agrees- fuck does this tight lil’ pussy of yours agree.” A few tears, a few gorgeous marks down his back, and he was finally convinced. “You’re mine.”

You don’t even realize it when you’re cumming, and Satoru doesn’t either.

Both of you too caught up in each other to recognize that familiar, white-hot pleasure running down your spine - all the way down to where he was so mercilessly buried in your cunt.  

And you’re well into the blood roaring deafeningly in your ears, the sight of Satoru - all wrecked - blurring as he fucks his hips up. Harsh. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he paints your quivering walls white. 

Cumming and cumming so hard that you can feel his seed dribbling down your thighs, making such a mess all over Satoru’s lap. Your poor, overfilled cunt soon bloated and unable to keep up with it.

“Toru–” you whine, like a prayer. Milking the fucking soul out of him while he gently paws at your messy hair.

“Shhh, I know I know, sweetheart.” Such a stark contrast to the way he was filling you up like his favorite sex toy. Not even bothering to move anymore, one hand on your hip, moving your limp body up and down his sensitive cock to fuck it deeper. The other still playing with your clit, “S’alright, my girl”

Satoru’s hands never leave you, and he prays that now that he got a taste - well, you better be alright with them not leaving you for as long as he lives.

“As long as you live, huh?” you chuckle groggily, a noise so dreamy that Satoru can’t even be mad that he said it out loud. “And all that riling me up these years. Do you have a degradation kink or something?”

“Well, only one way to find out~”

“Oh shut up you-”

SLAM!

“Yooo, I bought dinner from that- WHAT THE FUCK?”

There were only two more lessons to be learned:

Always lock the door. Always. And in case you don’t, a bouquet of lollipops will do the trick to a Suguru reeling from the newest addition to the family. 

Cheap takeout tastes better with an apologetic Suguru, and an ice pack to his cheek - and you to kiss it better.

A/N. Can you tell I kept listening to that one Artemas song while writing this?

Plagiarism not authorized.

[garden0fyves]

thinking about...baby trapping d1 athlete!toji, but you can't tell who's trapping who.

(tiny bit of context here. unedited.)

to toji, it's bad enough that you're the best thing to happen to him. it's another that you’re every wet dream toji has had in his life, and if it means ‘accidentally’ filling you with his seed to keep you, then he’ll do it. no one can ever experience this again, you’re all his. he’ll make sure of it. but, what toji doesn’t know is that you’ve stopped taking your birth control. you’ve started taking multivitamins and timing your late night dates in time with your ovulation cycle. you’ve been celebrating his wins with his cock buried to the hilt inside of you, and your legs tight around his waist as he stuffs you full.

toji’s hands are strong on your hips as he buries his cock deeper inside of you. his jaw ticks when your tight cunt squeezes around him, and he twitches inside of you. your gaze is so soft, so pretty as you look up at him. you’re both sophomores in college and have so much to lose, but god his coach will just have to understand this “mistake”. he’s never seen how pretty you look underneath him, never seen the soft gasp you let out when toji presses a fat finger to your clit. and although he never will, he'll just have to accept that toji will be a father soon. toji's eyes narrow when you pull away from his lips to watch his face. your eyes drift from his eyes to his nose to the scar that rests on his lips. "i love you." you whisper softly, voice and eyes equally as watery.

if toji weren't already madly in love with you he’d have cum then and there, shooting you full of his love from the simple acknowledgement of your love for him. but, that’s already happened and toji’s slowly (very slowly) getting used to your sweet confessions when he’s fucking you particularly well. “i love you too, pretty girl.” he presses a wet kiss to your lips before he kisses your jaw and down to your shoulder. here, he bites down to leave the most obvious hickey he’s probably ever left a day in his life. toji doesn’t notice the way your legs tighten around him, only the clench of your cunt and the flutter of your eyelashes as your eyes fall shut.

“gonna be mine forever.” he whispers against your shoulder. it’d be a red flag if the same thoughts weren’t running through your mind. “gonna be yours forever, baby. gonna get married and have your babies.” you purr your words, eyes sliding open just to watch his reaction. toji’s dark green eyes slide up to yours. there’s something new in them, something primal as your words settle on his pussydrunk mind. “gonna be my pretty little wife, hm?” he pulls his hips back just to slam back into your pussy. you gush around him, back arching in pleasure. “tojiii!” you whine his name because he knows it’s true. he’s using your words to torture your poor cunt.

although his thrusts are sharp, they’re still filled with love. you can feel his love through the way his fat finger teases your clit. the way his kisses are gentle against your body despite the pounding your pussy’s experiencing. your stomach’s beginning to flip as your orgasm builds. your pretty pussy’s so loud, making noises toji’s never heard before. you’re so wet that the sheets are beginning to soak. every time toji’s fat cock slides into your cunt he feels like he’s reached heaven over and over again. “she’s taking me so well- fuck! one day,” he begins, cutting himself off with a throaty moan. “‘m gonna fill you up riiight here. make you a mommy, baby. fuck, you’d be so fucking pretty.”

toji presses a hand against your stomach, adding extra pressure so that he can feel the way his cock rubs against your soft insides. “why are you gonna wait? make me a mommy now. don’t wanna wait, wanna have your baby now.” your poor boyfriend can barely handle the words as they fall from your lips. toji’s head falls into your shoulder and stays there—tired and barely maintaining control. “don’t say that.” he whispers your name like a prayer, like he’s begging you to take your words back. by now, your legs have long tightened against his back. your thighs burn from the strength it’s taking you to keep him inside you. (as if you needed it)

“can’t- we can’t baby, not yet. gotta make it to the league first, mama. make sure you have everything you want.” you whine at his words because no matter how sweet they are, they aren’t what you want. you know toji means it. he always does. but right now, you want his child. fuck whatever millions he’ll make in the future from catching a ball. you want something permanent. something that screams that you love him more than anyone ever could. “doesn’t matter.” you whisper, sliding your nails up his back before they’re being dragged back up and into his hair. “cum in me, baby. give me a baby then you can take care of both of us.”

toji’s chest tightens with a newfound affection as the images flicker through his mind. you smiling and swollen with his baby, mini versions of the two of you running around. how fucking gorgeous you’d look being a mother—the mother of his children. he feels like a teenager again, like he’s never fucked before and it’s all overwhelming. he’s cumming, deep and plentiful into your fluttering pussy. you cry his name out, your own orgasm bullying it’s way to the surface. “god, you’re so good. my girl- fuck!” his hips jut into you at an attempt to get impossibly deeper in you. despite the overstimulation wracking your body, you soothe him by running your nails through his scalp. the sweat on your body’s ignored, the cum sliding out of you and onto his cock temporarily forgotten. “i love you.” you hum, pulling his head back just a little. “i love you too, mama.” you giggle, knowing that his little nickname may just be true soon.

to neither of your surprise, three months later you’re posting a baby reveal on your instagram’s. a tiny replica of toji’s jersey covers your belly as the two of you stand on the field with the biggest smiles anyone has ever seen from either of you. your phone’s never blown up so quickly, but you couldn’t care because your heart’s never felt so full.

back to the club!

[bunnis-monsters]

Late night thoughts about incubus husband…

He’s such a flirt. Every time you go out he dons a different human disguise. It’s always annoying seeing him flit about the bar, changing himself to cater to whichever person he’s talking to.

Really, your husband just wants to make you jealous. He’s a bit of an attention whore, and usually you’d just tug him away and ride his cock until he’s sensitive and crying, begging to fill your cunt with his cum but being denied because of how bad he was.

But he went a bit too far tonight.

You were finishing off your drink when you spotted him across the bar, his fingers twirling a woman’s hair. Already this was a bit much for you, and you stood to stop him.

But you froze in place when his eyes glanced towards you before he wrapped an arm around her waist. “Looks like I’m taking home a pretty lady tonight. Don’t worry, my wife won’t mind.”

He glanced back to gauge your reaction, excited to face some kind of kinky punishment for being a flirty brat… but instead he was met with your teary eyes.

Instantly the woman was forgotten as he followed you out. “W-wait, please, you know I wasn’t being serious, right? I was just-“

You turned on your heels, pointing a finger into his chest. “Maybe to someone like you marriage is just some kind of fun game, but it actually means something to me! I don’t exactly enjoy you treating my love for you like a joke!”

His eyes went wide with shock and hurt, his disguise disappearing as he reverted back to his original form. The sight of his tail twitching nervously almost made you soften… almost.

“My love… that’s not-“

You swatted his hand away, storming off. “… find somewhere else to sleep tonight. I… need to rethink some things.”

Your husband stared at your back as you left, his chest aching in a way it never had before. Could this really be the end of your marriage? No, no of course not. You loved him, and he would do anything for you. There’s no way such a small issue could divide the two of you that easy… right?

Oh how wrong he was.

When he attempted to come home the next night, his clothes and personal items were packed up on the porch, and the locks were changed.

This wasn’t something he could just smooth over with a few kisses and a good fuck. You were genuinely upset, something he could barely comprehend.

Upset? Why, because he was being a bit of a brat? His view only changed when he was complaining to a friend through tears and a glass of wine.

“Well, what would you do if she did the same?”

The glass shattered in his hand, his pupils turning into slits. The image of you walking up to a man, cooing and attempting to seduce him right in front of your husband made his heart boil in a jealous rage.

So that’s how you felt…

“I’m an idiot…” he murmured, looking at your picture. When he married you, he swore off ever having sex with another person. You were his sole source of sustenance and love, his only reason to breathe and live.

If he lost you, what would he even do besides sob until his heart stopped?

If he wanted to keep his beloved, he’d have to win you back…

Fortunately, the incubus knew just what to do.

Part 2? And should I go the yandere route or normal route?

—————————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @anonymouskiwi

[heartyluv]

Note: I know we’re in May, but I felt like it being Christmas works well in this little story and I’ve had this idea for a few days so I’m excited. I listened to Love Wins All by IU when I wrote this and would I be crazy if I got a littleeee emotional?

Part Two • Part Three • Part Four

Creds to @/anitalenia for the dividers!

Warning: Nothing, honestly. I’m using Caleb becoming a Colonel as the reason you divorced. This is just angsty Caleb declaring his love to his ex-wife.

Word Count: 2,362

Summary: Letting your ex-husband come over for Christmas was bound to stir the pot.

Ex-Husband!Caleb/Reader

You loved your children with everything in your being. They were the most precious things to you in the world and you’d do anything to make them happy. It’s why when they begged you for days to let their father be here when they open their Christmas gifts tomorrow morning, you couldn’t tell them no.

Many people would look at you crazy for letting your ex-husband come into your home and play house, especially with the divorce being so fresh. It’s only been a year since everything was finalized and to this day, your heart still aches when you think about how everything transpired between you two.

When Caleb became a colonel, you thought it was the beginning of something monumental. And in hindsight, it was. It just led to the end of what you both thought would be forever. You found yourself home alone with your first born baby boy all the time, never getting to see your husband in the daylight because he was coming home so late. He missed so many of your son’s milestones and no amount of apologies and kisses made up for the fact that you felt like you were doing it all on your own.

You knew that the job was challenging and demanding, but it was changing him in a way you couldn’t understand. Caleb didn’t agree, telling you at the time that he had to be this dedicated, that he didn’t get to where he is by not giving it his all. He used the fact that he needed to take care of his family as a crutch as to why he was letting the job consume him, but you knew better. His position is something he’s always longed for and you’ve known that in all the years you’ve been together.

But even if you did know better, you still stayed because you swore it would get better.

It’s why you ended up pregnant again with your precious girl not long after your son turned two. But when you saw that the cycle only repeated itself, that it seemed like you lost your husband entirely, you knew what you had to do, even if it broke you.

There was too much fighting, too much back and forth, and it became all consuming in the way that you felt like you were losing him and yourself. It’s why you offered a proposition that nearly drove Caleb mad. But when he saw how unhappy you were, how drained you became, even in the end if it meant breaking his own heart and destroying himself, he’d always put you and the wellbeing of your children above himself. He wasn’t stupid, Caleb knew how he failed you as your husband and he’d always regret it because he wished that it didn’t happen and that he tried harder before it became too late.

You two went your separate ways and it took both you and the kids time to adjust, but you were making it. If it weren’t for them, you don’t know how’d you be. It was so hard telling them that their dad wouldn’t be around at all, that they’d be going to him without you from now on and vice versa.

Caleb was still taking care of you, even if you weren’t together. You told him over and over that it wasn’t necessary, that you’d find a job and handle your end. But he wouldn’t have it.

“You only need to be the mother and woman I fell in love with. There isn’t a thing that you could say or do that would make me stop being there for you and our children.”

In that moment, you felt like your resolve almost broke. But you stood your ground and reluctantly accepted his care, seeing as you really had no choice. He made sure you kept the house, paid for the bills, gave you extra money for yourself and the kids, always stocked up on food. He was treating it like you were still a unit, and you never knew how to feel about that.

Despite it all, you could never deny that Caleb has always been a phenomenal father. It was only being a husband that it seemed to not grasp the entirety of. He gave your babies the world and you couldn’t ask for a better man to have as the father of your children.

It’s Christmas Eve evening as your kids sit in front of the TV, watching classic holiday films you grew up, with when you hear the doorbell ring. You dry your hands, stepping away from the now empty sink and walk to the front door. As you open it, there stands Caleb with a slightly red nose from the frigid temperature. Some snow sticks to his jacket and hair, making him look like a scene out of a movie. He gently smiles at you and you reciprocate, and you step over as the kids come running at him full speed.

“Daddy!” they exclaim with joy as they wrap themselves around his legs.

He chuckles before he kneels down to take them into a tight hug. “My two favorite people in the world,” he hums as they giggle in his hold. “You excited for tomorrow?”

“Yeah!” your son says enthusiastically before he frowns. “Santa hasn’t come yet.”

“I want see Santa!” your daughter folds her arms dramatically. Caleb kisses her cheeks and she giggles. She’s always been a daddy’s girl.

Caleb looks behind them to see that under the tree is empty. He already knows the tradition. You guys always put the presents under when they fall asleep, and it’s no different now. He looks up at you while you watch the exchange, winking with a sly smirk. You shake your head, unable to stop the smile that decorates your face.

“You guys eat?” he asks as he stands to usher them inside the warm home.

Your kids talk his ear off as they tell them about their dinner, the breakfast you plan on cooking, what they asked Santa for, all while you sneak out the back to take the presents he bought and put them in the side closet so they can be added to the collection you have.

It’s not long until Caleb tires them out from all the playing and conversation, tucking them into bed with gentle kisses to their foreheads. After he leaves their bedroom, he walks in the living room to find you already stacking presents.

“Let me help,” he voices. After grabbing some gifts from the closet, he kneels beside you to start laying everything out, just how you like.

“How’ve you been?” he asks. You swallow, clearing your throat. You haven’t really uttered a word to him since he got here and now that you’re alone, for the first time since the divorce, it all feels so surreal.

“I’m okay,” you answer gently. “How are you?” He breathes out a laugh, shaking his head.

“What?”

“Just,” he sighs. “Talking to you like it’s the first time we’ve ever spoken in our life feels…wrong? I don’t know.”

Your jaw tenses. “I get it.” You think of how to shift the conversation, not quite ready to delve into this. “Thank you for coming, by the way. The kids really—”

“I miss you,” he interrupts, and this time you freeze.

“I miss you and the kids. I miss being home. I miss us.”

“Caleb, don’t do this.”

“Don’t do what? Tell you that I never wanted this? That we’re supposed to be together? That not having you makes everything feel fucking impossible?”

“You should’ve throught about that before you put being colonel above being a husband.”

That stings him, slaps him in the face. Feels like it shot him in the stomach. He gulps, staring at you even if you won’t look at him.

He looks down at his hands, watching them turn to fists because of the anger he holds toward himself. “I messed up.”

“You did.”

“Let me fix it,” he begs. “It’s not too late for us, I know it isn’t. I know you still want me, still love me.”

“You’re being so unfair,” you shake your head, feeling the tears burn your eyes. “This isn’t what you came for.”

“I came for my family, and that has and will always, include you.”

You don’t answer and that frustrates him. The way you keep sliding festively wrapped boxes under the tree like he isn’t telling you that he wants a second chance, is enough to make his heart thump even faster in his chest.

“Look at me,” he commands shakily.

“You don’t get to see how much you hurt me, how lonely you made me, watch our marriage fall apart, then try to come in here for redemption after all this time, Caleb!” When you notice how raised your voice has become, you press your lips together to collect yourself. The last thing you want to do is wake up your kids. “Even though we signed the papers a year ago, there hasn’t been nothing family about us for even longer.”

“I was selfish, I know that. I needed to do better, I want to, I always have. Baby, I will. Every time I walk into my empty apartment without you to kiss, to love, to hold… Without my kids…I feel the weight of my stupidity suffocate me with every step I take.”

“I can’t do this,” you sniffle, getting ready to stand, but Caleb grabs your hand before you can. His silver necklace glimmers against the warm lamp light beside him and your eyes trail up his neck, past his perfect nose and into his.

Your lip quivers as he pulls you up. He grabs your face in his hands, pressing his forehead to yours as a tear falls down your cheek. You brace your hands on his wrists as he holds you, unable to open your eyes.

“I never stopped loving you. I never will,” he whispers, his breath fanning across your skin. “I was lost, and instead of leaning on you, I abandoned you. But know that there is no lifetime, no timeline in any universe, that could keep me from you. Every part of me will always belong to you.” His voice cracks at his admission.

“Caleb…” you say his name as if it was a stress reliever. Like voicing it could make all the ache in your chest dissipate.

“Don’t you remember? How good we used to feel? How good I made you feel? I know your body and soul better than anyone—not even you could take that privilege from me, baby. I was too late before. Let me do better now.”

With shaky breath, unbridled emotions, and conflicting thoughts, you tilt your head up. He looks down at you with pain that mirrors your own, desire that matches your being. And he doesn’t ask for permission, doesn’t wait because even while he’s chipping away at your walls, he knows you’ll try and swiftly put them back up—and he kisses you.

His tongue mingles with yours as you hesitate to feel him.

“Touch me,” he begs. “Please, touch me.“

When you succumb to his request and your hands grip his hair for the first time in what feels like forever, he melts into your hold. He devours your mouth like you’ll slip away from him at any moment and based on the reality, it’s a strong possibility. So he relishes in your taste, memorizes you all over again because divorce and pain changes a whole person’s being. He knows this because it did it to him.

He’s not the same man he was. In fact, he believes he’s a better one. He just needs you to give him the chance to show you. It’s unfortunate that it took losing you to correct himself.

“Let me come home,” he bites your lip, groaning at how you whimper. “Let me come home to you and our babies.”

You just keep kissing him because you don’t know if you’re ready to give him what he wants, even if you want it to. It’s because he knows you so well that he doesn’t need you to say it. He just needs you both to stay right here for as long as you’ll allow it.

When you finally pull apart, he’s caressing your cheekbone with his thumb.

“Why now..?” you ask.

“I finally got the courage to face my mistakes. I wanted to fight the divorce the moment you asked for it, and with the little fight that I did give, I only hurt you more. I knew there was no winning side of it all for either of us. Being together hurt and being apart proved to do the same. But we’re here now,” he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Let me be what I should’ve been, right now. Even if I don’t deserve it.”

Your eyes soften, one of your hands gently tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I’m scared, Caleb. I don’t… I can’t be hurt again.”

“You won’t be,” he promises. “I’d rather die than put you through anything like this again. You and the kids.”

“Will you give me time? To think?”

It’s not what he wanted to hear, but it’s not a no. So for now, it’ll have to do.

“Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere. Not if my family isn’t with me.”

It takes all your strength to separate yourself from him. He promises to finish putting the gifts beneath the tree because distance is needed right now. So when you retreat to your bedroom and shut the door behind you, your press your back against it and put your palm to your mouth.

You suppress the sounds of your weeping, feeling the emotions rack and shake your body. You’ve missed him so much, you knew the man you loved was never gone. And now that he’s seems to be back, you have to decide for you and your children if starting over is something you’re prepared for. If it’s something you should even consider doing.

If Caleb really wants this, if he’s truly ready, then you’re sure that the love you’ve always had for each other, will win above all.

Part Two • Part Three • Part Four

[thinkinonsense]

WICKED

old man!logan howlett x young fem!reader

cw: cheating, heavy flirting, smut, kinda dark

authors note: i have no idea what came over me and i cannot explain it. also! gif credit to the amazing n talented @silverskyeline <333

he never should've gone to the bar. never should've let you run your pretty mouth. most definitely never should've bought you that martini. every weekend he watches you seduce the men at the bar until one of them falls into your trap.

logan would scoff, mumbling something under his breath about how stupid that bastard must be. despite the fact that the only thing holding him back from your advances was the thick gold band on his finger, reminding him of where his loyalty should be.

"lovely seeing you here again, logan."

he loathed your wicked smile and how your voice sounded like rain fall. trying his best to avoid staring into the eye of the storm but your presence demanded to be seen. practically ripping his hazel gaze off the wooden table and over to that tiny dress you were wearing. dark navy tight against your skin in a way that could make any man sin.

"missed ya' last weekend." you purr. "where were you at?"

"home." he states, gruffly.

"that's boring. why were you at home?"

"wedding anniversary."

the words made your tummy flip with excitement. you didn’t know much about logan outside of his favorite brands of alcohol, but you did know that he had a wife at home. he never mentioned her by name. sometimes, she would call the bar if it was “too late” for him to be out but other than that, she was a ghost.

“cute. you should bring her here one weekend.” you propose, almost making logan choke on his whisky. “bet she would love to see where you run and hide at night.”

“it’s not her kinda scene.” he responds.

“aw, i’m sure we would be friends.”

“doubtful.”

“and why’s that?” you fake pout.

logan leans in close before whispering, “don’t think she would appreciate you beggin’ for her husband to fuck you in a dirty bar bathroom every weekend.”

“i didn’t say we would stay friends.” you giggle, making his cock stir in his work pants. “also, the invite is still open if you miss fuckin’ someone younger.”

the second you are out of sight, off in the pool room next door annoying some other asshole, he groans under his breath. logan hated how well you read him. you knew he wanted you but you were smart enough to make him come crawling to you if he wanted to feel your tight cunt wrapped around him.

after a couple minutes, a few men left the room and logan got up to take their place. when he walked inside he saw it was empty except for you sitting in one of the chairs on your phone.

“glad you decided to join me.” you smile up at him.

logan ignores you instead going over to get a stick and start playing. you finish your martini and join him as he sets up the balls. catching you off guard, he tosses you a stick too.

“if i win, you leave me alone for good.” he huffs in your face.

“sure but what do i get when i win?” you smirk.

logan ignores your question and growls, “ladies first.”

it's dead silent as you bend over the pool table to line your stick up to the diamond. logan's far too busy staring at the wet spot on your light blue panties. he never admit it, even if you knew for sure that's where his eyes were. it wasn't until he lost sight of the spot that he realized you already took your shot.

"your turn, old man." you tease, moving out of his way.

the two of you go back and forth for a bit but you were growing tired of this game. instead you decided to make things even more interesting.

"so when i win, are you going to finally fuck me?" your bluntness always left logan speechless.

"you already know the answer to that, sweetheart." he replies, trying to focus before shooting.

"sure, blah, blah, blah, something wife." you mock with an eye roll that almost made logan chuckle. "but seriously? when was the last time you two had sex? you probably got cobwebs in there."

that got a small smirk out of him. one that you count as a win.

"it's just a band. it comes off, see?" you lean over and take the ring off of his finger, placing it on the table.

logan stared at it for too long. feeling the distance of his commitments. you turn his head towards you with a light hook on his grey bearded chin. the lust in his eyes told you that you had won.

"you know what else comes off that easily?" you whisper, lips inches from his. "my panties."

a good man would've walked away. a good man would've returned home to his wife. but logan wasn't a good man. never had been and never would be.

an animalistic urge fell over him, grabbing you with the ease of a rag doll and bending you over the pool table. the wedding band was inches from your parted lips, moaning prettily as logan spread you open with his thumbs and licked a wide strip up your cunt, burying his face in your arousal and letting it coat his beard until he could only taste you.

"f-fuck me." logan groans, pulling back to catch his breath. "taste better than i imagined."

"knew you wanted me." you smirk, feeling his middle finger circle your entrance before pushing in. a loud moan is pulled from your throat as he hits that spongey spot with ease.

"weren't lying 'bout being tight." logan marvels, watching the way you suck in his finger.

he attempts to push in his ring finger as well and you wish you could've seen his face while he struggle to get it in. quickly, you reach for the wedding ring next to you then grab his hand from inside you. fumbling to get the ring back on him before he questions you.

"what are you—"

"go on." you coax, looking back at him with dark eyes. "try it now."

logan shouldn't have been so turned on from the image of his wedding ring coated in your slick; but here he was watching it disappear and reappear inside of you.

"right—fuck! r-right there..." you pant, arching farther back to meet his thrusts.

"does it turn you on being a homewreaker?" logan asks, back up on his feet and nibbling at your ear. "knowing that you have a old married man fucking you with his wedding band on?"

"mhm..." you mumble against the table. he takes the opportunity to pick up his pace, feeling you clench down. "d-don't stop..."

within seconds, your gushing around his fingers and dripping down his hand. right when he pulled out of you, you turn around and push him back into one of the plush chairs to undo his belt. falling to your knees, you begin to stroke him, tracing his veins with your tongue and tapping the tip on it.

"always knew you had quite the mouth on ya', princess." he grunts with a fist full of your hair.

you smile, taking him all the way until his tip hit the back of your throat and the hairs at his base tickled your nose. logan was finding it harder and harder to control his animalistic urge while your gagging and drooling all over his lap. quickly, you release him with a pop and stand up to straddle him, lining him up to your entrance and sinking down slowly.

"shit, you're so fucking tight." he says, gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

"only for you, logan." you whine, grinding down on him, rocking back and forth.

roughly, logan pulls the rest of your dress off of you, throwing it on the floor somewhere behind you. large hands touching you all over in ways you've only dreamt of. meanwhile, your attacking his neck like a madwoman. biting and marking him up like he's yours.

desperately, logan fucks up into you, needing more. his tip nudges that sweet spot within you, making you moan loudly in his ear, encouraging him to go faster. so focused on the squealing of your soaked pussy. he captures your lips, kissing you tenderly. you can feel his high approaching, twitching inside of you, and you needed to do one last thing before it hit him.

carefully you pull away, gripping his chin and pulling him face to face with you. his eyes are blown out with desire as he stares at you.

"tell me your mine, lo." you whisper against his lips.

logan can feel you clench tightly around him, waiting for him to give into you completely. he presses his thumb down on your button, moving in fast circles to get you there with him.

"f-fuck, i'm yours, baby." he moans, coating your walls with spurts of his release. "i'm yours."

"t-that's right." you moan, kissing him roughly as your high washes over you.

"you look so pretty like this." he coos, watching the pleasure run over you.

for a moment the two of you sit still, trying to catch your breath. logan's mind races, not meaning to cum inside of you but it's far too late now.

"lets keep this a secret between the two of us, huh?" he says while you play with his hand, mischievously. before he can notice, you pocket the ring.

"sure thing, baby." you reply. "i'll gladly be your little secret but have fun explaining those marks to the old ball and chain."

logan looks down at you and that wicked smile of yours, only to realize just how fucked he is.

[sevsgiirl]

— sevika reassuring her anxious partner

synopsis: when you get into an argument with sevika, your anxiety gets the best of you. luckily, she knows how to get rid of your doubts.

note: this is my first time posting my hcs of sevika because I usually post long fics, but after seeing so many tiktoks of people mischaracterizing sevika recently saying she’d be the type to cheat after an argument (she would never) I just had to write this because I am not letting anybody smear my wife’s good name.

𖥔 sevika isn’t necessarily argumentative, but she is very stubborn. she doesn’t like picking fights with you, if she could avoid them as much as possible she would.

𖥔 however, she always feels the need to have the last word, and that riles you up.

𖥔 she never raises her voice at you and make it seem like she’s pissed, but her frustrations seep through.

𖥔 and she knows if the situation further escalates she’ll say something she’ll regret, so she’ll force herself to take a step back, look at you and say “we’re not doing this. I’m not in the right head space right now and clearly you aren’t too.”

𖥔 usually she’d want to fix the issue right away because she doesn’t like prolonging a problem when she knows simple communication could fix it.

𖥔 but when she knows it’ll take the whole day for the problem to be resolved, she’ll create some distance between you two so she can have a clearer mind before bringing up the issue again, and without any bias.

𖥔 however, when she tells you that she needs some time away from you for a bit, your anxiety levels skyrocket. you start scrambling for a way to make her stay and fix the situation but she just sees it as you wanting to argue again, so she shakes her head and goes for the door.

𖥔 “not now. I’m not angry but just give me some time.” she tells you before walking out the door and leaving you in your apartment alone, already feeling bad that the argument went too far.

𖥔 as a way to compose herself she’ll head over to the last drop to have a drink and play some cards, and people at the table would notice her brooding demeanor and ask if there’s trouble in paradise.

𖥔 she won’t answer, she doesn’t like taking advice from people especially when it comes to her relationship. she doesn’t like airing out her business, but people will chime in either way.

𖥔 telling her that as long as the love is still there, there’s nothing that either of you can’t overcome together. again, she stays silent but keeps it in mind.

𖥔 meanwhile, you’re back at home. it’s been a few hours and sevika still hasn’t returned and it’s getting really late.

𖥔 you start assuming the worst case scenarios. pacing back and forth as you wonder if she’s gotten tired of you already, and it doesn’t help when her past at the gardens come to mind.

𖥔 so your mind pivots to that, as bad as it sounds, your chest suddenly feeling heavy as the ugliest scenarios of her confiding in another woman’s arms plague your mind and you immediately feel tears forming in your eyes.

𖥔 you know she would never, but you always feared the worst. you’ve opened up to sevika about your trust issues and she always listened intently. her loyalty and devotion are her most notable traits, and you’d never doubt her. but still, during your darkest moments you can’t help but let those ugly thoughts win.

𖥔 as you imagine her seeking escapism in another woman’s body, you thought maybe if you had just shut up she wouldn’t go out doing god knows what so she wouldn’t be trapped in the same space as you.

𖥔 meanwhile, sevika is trying her best to walk in a straight line as she heads back home from the bar, mentally cursing herself for drinking too much because now, how else is she going to have a conversation about your argument earlier if she could barely form a coherent thought?

𖥔 it’s almost midnight by the time you hear sevika’s spare keys unlocking your door as she stumbles in, groaning as you step inside the living room and watch her walk in.

𖥔 “where were you?” you ask, your voice shaking but sevika didn’t pick up on your anxious state just yet.

𖥔 so she raises a hand to signal for you to give her a moment, but you being paranoid, take it a sign of her being annoyed with you.

𖥔 “I’ve had too much to drink, just give-“

𖥔 she stops dead in her tracks when she hears you sniffling, and it’s like all the liquor in her system got evaporated as she looks up and notices your watery eyes, fidgeting with your fingers and she immediately takes a step forward.

𖥔 “hey, what’s wrong-“

𖥔 “I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to blow things out of proportion and I understand if you’re fed up with my shit, but sev, j-just…”

𖥔 her eyebrows furrow as you look down at your feet “hey, remember what I said earlier? I’m not mad. I just needed some space to clear my head.”

𖥔 your glossy eyes pierce through her grey ones as you gulp “I-I thought you got tired of me a-and…”

𖥔 she looks at you and encourages you to finish, but as you think about it you can’t help but feel embarrassed “it’s stupid.”

𖥔 “sweetheart, just tell me-“

𖥔 “I thought you went to the gardens.”

𖥔 all thought process quickly stopped working as she stares at you, dumbfounded. feeling her heart twist at the thought of you losing faith in her that you’d assume she’d go and sleep with another woman just because she was angry at you.

𖥔 she wasn’t even angry at you. she could never be angry. she was frustrated with the situation but she’d never have it in her to be mad at you and blame you for anything.

𖥔 she takes a step closer and extends her hand to palm your cheek, calloused but warm.

𖥔 “sweetheart, you know I’d never do that. ever.” she put both of her hands on your face and fixed you with a hard gaze “no matter whatever bullshit we go through, don’t ever think I’d stoop as low as betraying you like that. I wouldn’t even imagine doing that to you.”

𖥔 she swallows the lump in her throat. she wasn’t the type to get emotional but seeing your big doe eyes look at her, all pitiful and devastated, made her heart break. so with a sigh she pulls you against her chest and tightens her arms around you, running her fingers down your hair as she rest her chin on top of your head.

𖥔 “I love you. so fucking much. you could put me in a room with a thousand women and I’d still crawl my way out of there to get to you. nothing else matters. just you. you know that, right?”

𖥔 you sniff, nodding as you let out a shaky breath “I know and I’m sorry. I just got a b-bit paranoid.”

𖥔 she shook her head “it’s okay, it’s not your fault. I’m not going to be upset when I should’ve stayed here with you and worked things out. I’m sorry for making you go through that, baby.”

𖥔 after a few minutes you finally look up at her and gave her a wobbly smile.

𖥔 “it’s okay,” you nuzzled against her touch and sighed “I love you, sev.”

𖥔 she smiles, thumb caressing your cheek “I love you more.”

[trulyumai]

a break in the night

pairing: Emperor Geta / Wife! Reader

synopsis: no one knew just how much the emperor cared for his wife, after all, he hid it so well. how could anyone see such a show of anger coming? and over your wellbeing no less…

warnings: cussing, yelling, anger, angst.

Enjoy the story!

No one expected an invasion in the night. No one heard the trespassers skulk about the grounds, enter the halls and find the emperors chamber with ultimate ease.

It raised questions.

How did they get in so easily?

How did they find the chambers?

What made them target you?

Geta was hardly in his personal quarters, mostly, he sat out in his studies— just by the library and planned. His men would be by his side, offering the best advice and protection they possibly could while you would be away wandering the grounds.

At dusk, you would find your dear husband, kiss his cheek and ignore his comments about such a display before heading to retire for the night. “goodnight, my love,” you whispered.

The name was always changing, but it always gravitated towards some loving endearment. It made Geta scowl. Made him want to rip out his own heart for how it seemed to flutter and skip by such simple phrases.

Geta watched you go and tightening his fists before eyeing the map displayed across most of the table in front of him.

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

He hadn’t meant to stay out so late.

His eyes were heavy, little slits amongst the darkened room. Leaning on his hand, his jewelery began to feel uncomfortable, it itched at his skin a little too much.

Getting angry the emperor ripped off his rings before carelessly throwing them amongst the objects upon the table. “Fucking—"

Furiously getting up, the goblet at his side fell down the ground with a loud clatter. He had to concentrate.

On the plans.

The invasion.

The war he was suppose to be winning.

Screams, horrible fear induced screams erupted, echoing throughout the halls, the corridors that made about the secured building.

Geta’s head snapped back so fast his vision doubled. Usually, he would leave such a predicament to his guards.

But he recognized that pitch, that voice.

It couldn’t be?

“Wife!”

With his hand pushing his figure off the table, he ran. Bolted and turned. Pushing anyone, everyone out of the way until he reached the cracked door of his solitary.

He hasn’t even realized his guards were missing, not at their usual place by his side.

“Wife!” He called, already pushing the door open. This feeling was new. It made his fingers shake, his knees weak and his mind numb.

He couldn’t lose you already. Not when he was so early in his reign. Not when you doted on him so. Not when he barely got to love you in return.

A mumble called out with a voice so light Geta doubted himself upon hearing it. With furrowed brows he craned his neck, to where such a sound emitted.

And there you were.

Clutching your neck with a tight, bloody grip.

His lips, his face, flinched with such a sight. He just stood there, in the middle of the room like some bystander.

“G-Geta,” you felt so cold. It was odd, because usually, this room ran overwhelmingly warm. Especially now, with candles lit in every direction. Your husbands eyes were so wide, the white of his orbs shined bright against the flickering lights as his hand lightly shook at his side. You were trying to be strong, to not pass out, or cry in desperation.

But seeing your husband, who was usually as distant as a stranger, look at you so… scared, made you weak.

Weaker than the blood loss had made you.

Swallowing down the spit that had gathered, Geta rushed forth, descending down to get a better look at you.

“Let me see, let me—,” your hand moved, slumped down against the floor in a solid maroon color.

The wound started at the base of your neck, to the curve of your shoulder. A sloppy, rushed cut. Jagged and oozing with vast amounts of blood.

“I’m scared,” your eyes leaked with a teary wetness. It trailed down your cheeks until it met with the bloody mess upon your body.

Geta shushed you, taking a solid grip of his robe before ripping it with a strong tug. The material gave away easily against the pressure and it found home upon the junction of your neck.

It smelled so comforting that you couldn’t help but close your eyes and whimper at the firm pressure.

“I’m going to carry you, little wife, don’t close your eyes.” No longer wasting time, the man did just that.

He picked up your frame like nothing, but the action let out a pulsing fiery pain from the wound, earning a loud cry to spill from your lips. Geta frowned, mumbled some incoherent apology as his legs skidded across the stone floors.

Your head bobbed as the emperor picked up his pace, his voice sounded as if water blocked your ears. It was muffled—uneven.

Noticing your slackened form and droopy eyes, Geta let out a desperate cry. “Stay with me. We’re almost there.”

“I’m sorry, Geta” his robe scratched against your cheek. So rough, so soft at the same time.

“Don’t be daft, just stay awake!” Geta couldn’t help but keep glancing at you. You and your blinking eyes, that tired, bloody smile.

“Please, forgive me,” sticky fingertips met with the man’s cheek, blood stuck instantly to his pale skin.

“I love you.” The fingers went limp, they dragged down the emperors face leaving a thin line of blood that went towards his chin.

“Stop! Wife, love, please!” His breath grew heavy and his legs shook. Letting out whimpers and moans the man finally had the left wing in sight.

A healer, a healer, a healer—

Bursting through the first door, Geta came to his knees, with you still protectively held in his arms.

Out of breath, the man’s words were chipped and uneven.

“Healer— my wife— now!”

The people in the room dispersed, guards left their post in search for the accuser, the citizens left all together, in fear of seeing such a weakened display, and the healers gathered together, to take the empress from Geta’s hands.

“My lord,” an older white haired gentleman bowed before the orange haired ruler. His hands placed politely before him, he smiled sympathetically at the emperor.

“We will need to remove her from your hold and begin immediately—”

“No.”

Confused expressions emitted through the healers, the elderly man furrowed his brows as he wearily glanced at the bloodied couple.

“No.. my lord?”

“You will do it here. Now.”

“In your.. lap?”

A look of contempt was all that was given, before the white haired man nodded along. Urgently talking amongst his peers. They grabbed sutures, herbs, any medicinals that could possible help, were taken and placed before the two.

“We will begin now, my lord.” A nod was received, Geta’s eyes never strained from your face. He studied each and every freckle, looked upon your tear stained cheeks and down to your grim looking cut.

It would surely scar.

A growl broke out between his lips, startling the helpers in the vicinity.

The fireplace emitted the room in light, graciously allowing the healers to patch up their empress in a lit and warm room.

But such a light had nothing against the burning embers that raged within Geta’s eyes.

For there will be death, that much he was sure.

[lenorenevermore99]

Why 457 is actually valid af and not just a "joke" ship

I wanna start this by saying that I'm in no way, shape or form convinced 457 is canon nor I think there will be anything remotely romantic between the two of them in season 3. But people seem to think it's just a joke inside the fandom, while actually, their dynamic is pretty fucking valid and I want to analyze that in this post.

One of the most discussed things (if not the most) when it comes to this ship is the stares.

Some think this is the stare of love, others think In-ho just enjoys seeing him suffer. Well, let me tell you it is neither.

But before we delve into the way In-ho stares at Gi-hun, we first have to go back to talk about Hwang In-ho as a character.

As we know, Hwang In-ho is the Winner of the 2015 Squid Game. He went into the games so he could have the money to treat his sick, pregnant wife, much like Gi-hun who did the same for his sick mother. Both of them won the game, but both of them were too late to save the person they loved from a sad fate.

This lead to In-ho becoming the Frontman. We don't know exactly what happened in the timeframe between him winning and him becoming the Frontman, but we can safely assume that after loosing his wife, In-ho lost faith in humanity. The games have destroyed him, they turned him into the villain he is today.

And the thing is, when he looks at Gi-hun, he sees his past self in him. This was confirmed by both Lee Byung Hun (In-ho's actor) and the director of the show himself.

Or to be more precise, he sees his past self. He sees who he was before the games changed him. And this is what led to his fascination and obsession with Gi-hun, because here's the thing; the games traumatized Gi-hun, but they didn't break his faith and hope in humanity, like they did with In-ho himself.

And this is the thing that, in my view, both fascinates and deeply angers In-ho. Deep inside, subconsciously, he is thinking, "Why were YOU able to retain your hope in humanity? Why were you able to remain a good person when I couldn't?"

In-ho was genuine when he told Gi-hun he wished he'd try to be happy after winning (or to better say, surviving) the games. I find it especially interesting when he tells him "Just pretend it was all a dream."

In-ho wishes he could pretend it was all a dream, but he couldn't. Think about it: he's a billionaire, but he lives in a shitty, small apartment. He doesn't talk to his mother, he doesn't talk to his brother, he doesn't even go visit his wife at the cemetery. Pardon me for borrowing the phrase from The Hunger Games, but he's not living the life of a victor. whether it's because he feels guilty or something else, I guess we'll find out in the next season, but that's not the point. The point is, that In-ho wants Gi-hun to do what he wasn't able to do after he won. He wants him to be happy because he sees himself in Gi-hun.

This is the most important point in this post.

Now I wanna focus on these moments. During the second game, during mingle, and during the lights-out massacre, we see Gi-hun being absolutely destroyed over the players that were killed. He's undoubtedly blaming himself for it. And here we see In-ho staring at him, not with the look of love, not with joy at his suffering, but with sorrow. He's sad for Gi-hun, because he could have spared himself further suffering if he didn't stubbornly decide to go back into the games.

What In-ho is thinking right here, in my view, is; "See? There is no hope. There is nothing you can do. Stop torturing yourself, just give it up already. How much more pain do you have to go through before you give up? Accept you can do nothing and go on with your life. Try to be happy."

Now you might be asking, okay, but what does that have to do with romantic love?

Well let me tell you that these feelings I just described can easily and quickly turn into love.

Many philosophers over the centuries have come to the same conclusion; we see part of ourselves in the people we fall in love with.

"The Front Man believes that Gi-hun is wrong in his way of thinking, but perhaps, he reflects on himself through Gi-hun. He does want to destroy Gi-hun's belief. I felt that a small part of him, unknowingly, might be hoping for Gi-hun's thoughts to be right. And rooting for him in some way."

These words Lee Byung Hun said about In-ho, makes me think of Jacques Lacan's theory in particular (which is a rather complex topic and I will try to summarize as shortly and as simply as I can).

For Lacan, love, at least in the beginning, is essentially a form of narcissism. When we fall in love, we're also falling in love with ourselves. We see ourselves in the other person, but we also see in the other what we subconsciously think we are lacking in ourselves. Which doesn't mean the other person will fix us because, at least according to Lacan, this lack is something that can never actually be "fixed".

And I think that's exactly was is happening with In-ho. He sees in Gi-hun what he's lacking in himself. They were traumatized the same way, but reacted in two completely different manners. In-ho became cruel and disillusioned with humanity, while Gi-hun still believes in humanity and wants to save everyone.

I know that this way, 457 seems like a one-sided kind of love, but that's honestly my personal interpretation of the ship. I think Gi-hun could have fallen for Young-il, for the person In-ho was before the games, if they had more time. But the Frontman In-ho? The person he became after becoming the Frontman? There's no way.

Not all loves are meant to happen, not all lovers get to be lovers. Some are meant to just leave us wondering what could have been. Which is what makes transformative works so fun and interesting! From the canonverse toxic fics to the wholesome alternative universe flower shop fics, I think their dynamic is valid as fuck.

I rest my case.

[bunny-jpeg]

on top of the world

max verstappen

tags: smut/pwp, post-las vegas gp (2024), pregnancy/pregnant!reader, tender & gentle sex, established relationship,

a/n: congrats max for another wdc!

max wrapped you up in his arms and held you tightly. he kissed you on the side of the face with such love. such affection, there was a fire to his kiss, the after burn of a heated race. he came in fifth this weekend, but he was just that good that he managed to get enough points to secure his fourth world champion!

and when max pulled away with misty eyes. the thrill of the wdc never damped. he smiled brightly at you and said, "i won the wdc."

you swallowed and in the heat of the moment replied, "and i'm pregnant." you wished you could've taken the words back, but instead max just kissed you once more. your legs felt like jelly as you clung to him. wrapped up in one another, but max's grip loosened on you. after all, you were pregnant.

"you're pregnant." he said as his hands trailed up your sides once you were in the privacy of the hotel room. during every interview with what felt like every news network in the world. not only did he want to talk about his win, but the growth of your family.

you traced your hands down the front of his red bull branded t-shirt, "remember why we were so curious why jimmy, sassy and donatello were always hanging around me?"

he nodded as he undid the buttons of your blouse.

"the entire weekend i felt sick in brazil and we chalked it up to something not agreeing with me." there was another nod from your boyfriend, "and then when you put your face between my breasts and i always yelled because they were so tender? yeah... i'm pregnant."

he looked at your face and then your middle. he patted a hand across the soft flesh and licked his lips, "you're serious, right? no joke?"

you held his face in your hands and looked into his blue eyes, "max... maxie... my love. i took five of them. i'm pretty sure it's impossible for all five to be false positives... when i head back home i will get the blood work done."

he beamed at you and pulled you in for another heated kiss. soon you were pulling at the shoulders of his t-shirt. his hat was flicked off onto the floor and with a bit of help you were both soon completely nude on the bed.

he looked amazing, even post-race. he was well showered and out of his driving clothes. but, he still looked flustered from the heat of the race, and even though it was so late into the evening. you both couldn't sleep, not while your brains were running a mile a minute. he admired you, loved you as his hands spread across your form.

"you and i made a baby, huh?" he said as leaned down and kissed your stomach, how much it would change while you carried his child. his kisses continued to trail across your body and you felt a shiver of euphoria through your system as he got between your legs. his cock stood at full attention and he wanted to map out every inch of you skin. as much as possible. he wanted to feel the love of his life as much as he could, to worship your body.

"yes, that's what happened." you giggled as your combed your fingers through his dirty blond hair, "that's usually what happens when you have unprotected sex." you smiled then kissed him when he rose his head.

"i hope you know, i'm here for you and our baby, okay? i'm not walking out, no, never." he nodded earnestly, even though there was no doubt in your bed. it was sweet for him to confirm it for you. you pulled him into a searing kiss and got him onto his back with you on top of him. you spread your hands across his broad chest, you could feel his racing heartbeat.

you rubbed your hands up and down his chest as you pulled away. you looked down at him before you slowly sank on his cock. before he could say anything you replied, "we'll go soft. no need to get too worried there, mister verstappen." you moved your hips slowly against him and he tensed up for a moment at the feeling.

max knew you were going to be his wife, he was certain anyone at the team could see that. the way max held you and kissed you. the infamous maxplaining about you and your own accomplishments. while you weren't a superstar driver, he wanted everyone to know that you got your master's degree. he simply hadn't popped the question so your last name could on every degree you earn. but that might have to change a little prematurely with the news that you two were expecting a child. he groaned a little as he felt the circulation of pleasure through his body. the rise and fall of your hips as you made love to him.

both of you still running off the high of the race and of the victorious news. you moved a little faster, but he slowed you down. he panted, "i want to feel you, all of you." he swallowed back a heavy moan as he moved against you. he admired every curve of your body. you were his, all his. the two of you were going start a family. be a family. one thought crossed his mind, he'd need to go ring shopping.

"i love you."

"i love you too."

you continued to work his body slowly, feeling every each of one another. max's hands tickled you a little and your giggles made his pulse leap. you could feel the circulation of pleasure in your brain as you moved against him with such affection and love. you loved max, you loved him more than you could put into words. there were no words in any language that could describe your affection towards the man. your man.

your bodies moved together. but it wasn't fucking, it was making love. you were enjoying each other's bodies with heated want while you moved against him lovingly. you moaned a little louder when the pleasure started to creep up through your body. you leaned in to kiss him once more as you moved your hips. you braced yourself on his toned chest and moaned deep into the kiss. that seemed to excite max as he held onto you a bit tighter. not tight enough to bruise. but, enough to be protective over you. over his beloved woman.

when you pulled away, you pressed your forehead against his and giggled, "soon we're going to have to find new ways to do this." then kissed him on the face.

"i'll take you anyway i can, my love. anyway you'll let me have you." he shuddered at the feeling of you. the two of you moved against one another during heated kisses and you could feel the pleasure spike in your body. when you broke the kiss, he said, "i won this all for you. but i think you upstaged me." he chuckled lightly, his cheeks dusted with pink, "i was going to come home with the world championship, but you were to come home with our child." he kissed you again, "i guess i'd rather be beaten by my wife than anyone else."

you felt a rise in you from his words, only to spur you on with slow but steadier movements. you raked your nails dwon his pale chest and whispered praise towards him. it wasn't erotic so much as intimate. how much you loved him, how much he meant to you. "when i see your eyes, i feel the future, max. and not just trophies and fast cars. i see a home, a life, a family." and he shuddered at your words. you knew how to make him feel so comfortable, safe and sound.

you marginally picked up speed and knew you weren't going to last much longer. you kissed him deeply as you rode him perfectly. your pussy fit perfectly, and he loved the feeling of you around him. cunt around his cock, hands on his chest,t he weight of you on his hips as you moved against him. everything oozed with perfection and made his heart stammer.

the two of you continued, the kisses only furthered. you held onto him tightly and with a few more movements of your hips. you clamped down around him and came. you moaned deeply into the kiss and let the pleasure wash over you.

max felt a similar feeling and while you rose through your orgasm. he finished inside of you as well. mindful not to be too rough with you. you two kissed more as you felt up his chest and he felt up your hips. you stayed seated on his cock for a few moments while you enjoyed the feeling of his lips on you.

but a night of euphoric highs led to emotional crashes that left you sleepy. soon you got yourself off of him and laid next to him on the king sized bed. you were panting heavily. max was playing with your left hand, especially your ring finger.

you smacked him on the chest with that hand while you laid out on the bed, "and no, max. we're not getting married in vegas." then looked at him, "we'll do it right... plus i'm certain your sister and my sister would kill you."

max just beamed and pulled you into a tight cuddle, "fair, fair, mrs. verstappen."

-

you told very few people about the pregnancy, especially not the press. people did notice the slow down of photos of you on max's social medias as you got further along.

one fan wrote online, "maybe they broke up?"

another said, "he better not embarrassed with her now or something stupid like that!"

you found the comments endearing while you were in your home in monaco, the cats still gravitated towards you. with the newest of the bunch always finding their way around your swollen middle. max did take photos of you, every chance he could. but, those were for his private collection as the following season started to wind up. while you would've loved to be there, the swell in your middle was only getting more obvious.

"you better facetime me." your lover wagged his finger at you.

"not if jimmy lies on top of my phone and i lose it for an hour." you giggled before you kissed max on the mouth. it was hard to see him go, especially when any updates about your child with him were over text and calls. it was hard.

he would eventually post a photo after a mysterious absence from social media around the summer break, "going to win a fifth world champion for you the way i won the previous four for your mama." and that answered every questions fans had. the photo was max holding his son with the stupidest grin on his face.

and by the end of the 2025 season, he had secured a fifth victory. for you, for him and for the son you both loved dearly <3

[enhaeil]

CATER 2 U! ☆ 박종성

"cause baby this is your day, do anything for my man, baby, you blow me away. i got your slippers, your dinner, your dessert and so much more..anything you want.. let me cater to you.."

cater 2 U - destiny's child

a/n: if u know me, no u dont. first time writing smut tho! this nasty

spoiled!wife! reader x husband!jay

cw: fluff, smut, unprotected sex, praise kink, lap dance, oral (both f&m) uhm yea thats all i think

✩ ₊˚ —

jay loves to spoil you. ever since you got with jay, you've never paid for a date, your nails, your hair; whatever you needed, he provided. he'd give you his last if you asked him for it.

jay who gets off to you spending his money. he loves seeing you in a new dress he bought. he loves seeing the nails he paid for wrapped around him in the night. he loves seeing you full of dinner from a fancy restaurant he took you to.

when asked how he does it, his explanation is quite simple:

"it's easy, love. I pay for your hair, and in return, I get a beautiful smile on your face. I buy you designer heels, you model them for me. I pay our rent, you get bent over the bed later... it's a win-win!" he says matter of factly.

but what jay fails to bring up, and what you've come to notice about the beautiful man you call husband ...

he secretly enjoys being spoiled, too.

and what better day to do it than his birthday?

— more under the cut

jay's in the mirror fixing the last few buttons on his shirt, still deciding to pick up a shift on his day because 'how else will he take you to the bahamas?'.

you lay in your shared bed, still naked and somewhat sweaty from the 'good morning, happy birthday, just because' sex that just occurred 10 minutes ago.

you tried to convince him to stay for another round, or two, or three or four, but to no avail. that's okay. y'all have till 12 AM anyway.

'alright baby, i'm off to work. i should be back soon,' he says, making his way over to your vulnerable form in the bed.

he presses a goodbye kiss to your lips, but you being needy, tries to turn into round two.

jay pulls away hesitantly. 'you're gonna make me late, love. i'll be back later, and we can have all the fun you want.'

and with that, he presses a kiss to your forehead, and he's out the door.

the moment you hear his car leave the driveway, you're up out the bed.

you take a quick shower before throwing on something casual to run a few errands. jay gets home around 6:30, so you need everything to be A1 by then.

one of the most important stops you had to make was the music shop.

your man loved guitars, it was known to everybody. so, for his biggest gift, you got him a custom-made guitar. it was made of the perfect materials and even had his initials engraved in it.

on the way back home, you also stop at a grocery store and a lingerie store, wanting to have something new for your loving husband to unwrap later.

time flies quickly, and before you know it, there's thirty minutes until jay comes home.

you take in your surroundings, giving them one last scan. you look at the giant '23' balloons you have floating around, the streamers, the flowers, the food. everything looks just how you imagined.

you spritz on one last squirt of pheromone perfume and wait on the couch for the sound of his keys.

a few minutes pass and you hear him approaching, causing you to stand up and smooth out your dress.

the door opens, and jay doesn't immediately notice everything, focused on taking his shoes off.

but man, his face when he realizes ... should've recorded that shit.

'baby... what's all this?' he says, looking around.

'happy birthday, jay. it's for you... !'

he stands there stunned, with the dopiest smile on his face. your heels finally click towards him, pressing a kiss on his lips.

'come on, let's eat.' you say, grabbing his hand and leading him towards the kitchen, purposely swishing your hips as you walk, definitely drawing attention from jay.

he tears that food UP!

he leans back in the chair, stuffed with the meal you made for him. you swiftly grab his plate and yours, throwing them on the sink, making them tomorrows problem.

you sneak behind him, rubbing his shoulders, feeling the tenseness leave his body, as he throws his head back. (if you know you know.)

god, he looks so good ... eyes blown out from being a little wine drunk, hair a little messy from work ... yea, it's time to get him up in that bed.

you lead up to your shared bedroom, stopping at the door.

'I have one more big surprise for you..'

you open the door, reveal a beautiful guitar sitting on its stand.

jay's mouth drops open before he dashes over there, picking up the instrument.

'baby... how ... you didn't have to do this for me...' he says, studying the guitar design, thick fingers grazing over the strings ... those thick... beautiful fingers ..

you stride over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, playing with the hair on his nape.

"of course I did, jay. you've given me everything i've ever wanted ... this is the least I could do.' you reassure him.

he sets the guitar back on its stand before wrapping his arms around your waist. you can tell he's been hitting the gym lately, his strong arms wrapped against you. he buries his face in your shoulder, taking in your scent.

'geez baby, you smell heavenly, this a new perfume?' he says going back in to press some kisses on your bare shoulder.

'it's a secret' you smile, parting from him, guilding him to sit on the bed. 'now wait here, i left something in the bathroom..' you say sneaking away. little did he know you had something planned.

you freshen yourself up in the bathroom and strip your dress off, revealing the black lingerie you hid under. you then hit play on your phone, cater 2 u by destiny's child blasting through the bluetooth speaker in your room.

you strut out the bathroom and make your way towards jay as the intro plays. just when this man thought you couldn't wow him more.

"Baby I see you working hard, I want to let you know I'm proud, let you know that I admire what you do. don't know if I need to reassure you, my life would be purposeless without you.."

beyonce sings through the speaker as you sway your hips and roll your body to the music.

"You inspire me to be better, you challenge me for the better, sit back and let me pour out my love letter"

jay leans back in awe, adjusting his position in reaction to his pants, starting to feel tight.

"remain the same chick, you fell in love with. I'll keep it tight, i'll keep my figure right I'll keep my hair fixed.."

you point towards jay as you make your way towards him, bending over in front him, giving him a closer look at what you have to offer him.

"when you come home late, tap me on my shoulder, I'll roll over.. baby, I heard you, i'm here to serve you. If it's love you need, to give it is my joy, all I wanna do, is cater to you boy"

you finally plop down in jay's lap, rolling your hips on top of him, chest right his face as you grind right against him.

the song continues, you feeling jay get harder underneath you with each verse as his hands rest on your hips.

you grab his face, looking right into his eyes. you see lust, want and need. but even behind that, jay's eyes are filled with so much admiration and love. as the song comes to an end, you see his eyes become glossy, causing yours to water as well.

you press a passionate, needy kiss to his lips as your hips continue to the beat.

the song finally ends, but your hips don't. dangerously in love comes on next in the recommended songs, perfect.

you and jay's kisses progressively become more rushed, both of your bodies falling back onto the bed, you straddling him.

your hips never stop moving, as you grind on him through his pants.

'fuck, princess ... keep moving like that.'

you do exactly that, hands trailing down to the buttons of his shirt, exposing his bare chest. you lean down to kiss down his chest, leaving marks as you go down.

you finally get off him, giving jay a second to catch his breath. your hands fly to his belt, unbuckling it and pulling down his pants, revealing what's underneath.

typically, jay is the one going down on you. one of his favorite activities, truly. he won't even ask you for head, for he feels its degrading, but that never stopped you and it definitely won't tonight.

you rid his boxers and lick a stripe up his length, making him groan out loud.

you've been needy for your husband since this morning, so you don't waste any time taking him in your mouth.

jay let's out another strangled groan, almost as if he tried to hold it in but couldn't anymore.

you use every trick you know he likes, trying to have him hurdling towards the edge before he can even realize.

'mm... i love this dick..' you say taking him back into your mouth.

you notice jay had a physical reaction to that ... this man has a praise kink. you decide you're going to use this to your advantage tonight.

you wrap your hands around what's not in your mouth and hum against him.

'my handsome husband... treats me so fucking good. just wanna suck him dry as a thank you ...' you say looking at him throught your lashes.

jay's hips jerk up. you can tell he's really close.

you take him all the way to the back of your throat, tears brimming at your eyes as swallow around him. jay's hands hover over your head, his stomach contracting.

'fuck baby i'm gonna cum..' he says, breathing increasing.

you hum against him again, moving your head up and down, sucking him like it's your life's mission.

you take him to the back of your throat one more time before he releases, shooting down your throat with a loud moan.

you continue to work him through his orgasm, happily swallowing what he gives you and continuing to lick him up.

you finally get up from your position, giving jay a goofy smile like you didn't almost end him.

'bring that ass up here, pretty.' he says as his hands, signal for you to come closer.

he pulls you in for a nasty, lustful kiss, one that says everything you need to know. he pulls apart, readjusting himself on the pillow, giving you a look you know all too well.

'jay... tonights about you only..!' you say, rubbing your hands on his chest.

'exactly ... and right now, I want to taste you.

the look he gives you sends shivers down your spine as you climb your way up to his face. you hover over his lips before he pulls your set to the side, grabs your waist, and forces you down.

you let out a sharp moan as you feel him work his magic on you. this man truly is good at everything he does.

he eats you like he's starved. like he's been denied the taste of heaven for years and doesn't know if he'll ever have it again after this. like he's been waiting for this moment.

'yes- fuck, jay ... it's yours, baby i promise.'

he hums against you, only speeding up his actions, head moving side to side.

you would be embarrassed, you know, at the amount of slurping and wet noises coming from down there, but he doesn't even give you the breath to. before you know it you're cumming all over his face.

jay pulls away with a pop before you hop off him.

'still got another round in you, baby?' you say grabbing his length and getting it ready for you.

'i'm ready to put a baby in you if anything. you look so good like this.' he says, rubbing your ass as you get ready to arch for him.

you giggle at his comment, but luckily, he didn't see you clench at the thought of being filled up.

you make your arch as deep as possible before wiggling your ass in front of him. he gives it a slap before rubbing himself through your folds, covering himself in your slick.

he finally slides himself in, and you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding. he gives you a second to adjust before he pulls himself nearly out and slams back into you.

jay knows your body like the back of his own hand, so it doesn't take him long to make you feel like your gonna cum.

'fuck baby ... you're s-so fucking deep.' you say as each thrust lunges you foward.

jay sounds angelic as he moans every few thrust. that's enough to get you pregnant right there.

'yea baby? 's too much?" he says, slowing down, making you feel every ridge and inch.

'mm-m no ... fuck it's so good..'

he picks his pace back up, bringing you closer to your orgasm.

'you close, baby? you gonna cum for me?" he speaks as he reaches for your hand.

'yes jay fuck... keep fucking me like that.. this pussy's all yours..'

''m gonna make you a daddy.."

jay's pace falters immediately, thrusts becoming uneven.

'fuck, y/n, you can't just say that.' he says eyebrows scrunching. you can tell he's close.

'please jay ... i want it so bad ... want you to cum so deep inside me ... wanna give you a baby jay ... you're gonna be such a good father..- fuck you're gonna make me cum.'

jay lifts your leg up, forcing himself deep inside as he releases right there, triggering your release right after.

after a few minutes, jay finally lifts up off you and pulls out, being careful not to waste anything.

'you really wanna have a baby?' he says as you guys lay there, catching your breath.

'jay, you're literally the best man I could ask for. i'd give you 9 kids if you asked me to."

he laughs at your statement before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

'9 kids it is.'

[becertainlust]

For most husbands, the best way to calm their wives when they see them crying after a bad day would be to hug them and stroke their backs or hair.

Husbands!Shoto Todoroki and Katsuki Bakugou do something similar, only instead of stroking back or hair, they caress their shared wife's clitoris while sobs. They don't know if it's from the horrible day before or from overstimulation, whatever it is... Surely making her squirt will make those tears disappear, right? They just have to make her feel **good**.

MELT | Bakugo Katsuki & Shoto Todoroki

Pairing: Shoto x reader x Bakugo

Content: Smut, Hurt to Comfort, fluff

it started with your keys slipping from your fingers.

They clattered to the floor of the entryway, louder than they should’ve been. You froze, standing in the doorway like you were still outside—still carrying the day’s weight like it was strapped to your back.

The house was warm. It smelled faintly of something sweet—maybe Shoto and bakugo had been baking again. But none of it registered properly.

Your shoulders dropped. And then, without warning, so did the tears.

You didn’t mean to cry.

It wasn’t like something awful happened. Just… a hundred little things piling up until one sharp word from your boss cracked something deep inside. You held it together through the rest of the day. On the ride home. Even when you opened the door and heard the soft hum of life inside your home.

But the moment you saw Shoto in the kitchen, barefoot in joggers, stirring something on the stove like it was any other evening—you fell apart.

You dropped your bag by the door, and the sound must’ve caught his attention.

He turned, took one look at your face, and the wooden spoon clattered into the pot.

“Baby?” he asked, already stepping over.

“I’m fine,” you said too quickly, your voice watery and unconvincing. You pressed the heel of your hand to your eyes.

Shoto didn’t say anything else—just closed the space between you and pulled you into his chest. He smelled like vanilla and spices, something warm, something simmering. His arms wrapped around you like they knew exactly how heavy today had been.

And for the first time all day, you breathed.

Just breathed.

The tears came slower now, spilling silently down your cheeks as your forehead pressed against his collarbone.

Footsteps came up behind you. Heavier. Familiar.

“What’s goin’ on?” Bakugou asked from behind you. You didn’t need to turn around to hear the frown in his voice.

“She’s had a rough day,” Shoto said softly.

“I said I’m okay,” you tried again, but it was half-hearted, and everyone knew it.

Bakugou sighed. Not annoyed. Just… the kind of sigh that came when he hated seeing you hurting and couldn’t punch what was responsible. You felt his hand settle on your lower back, warm and steady.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he murmured. “You don’t need to explain shit. We got you.”

The walk was quiet, and no one turned on the overhead lights when you got there. Shoto helped you out of your shoes. Bakugou tugged back the covers.

You crawled into bed like someone in a fog. Heavy. Worn out. Still sniffling but no longer trying to hide it. Shoto slipped in behind you first, chest to your back, pulling you into him like a slow exhale. One arm under your head. The other around your waist. You melted, just a little.

Bakugou came in next, lying in front of you on his side. His hand moved to your thigh, pulling you to rest your leg over his hip.The three of you tucked into each other like puzzle pieces.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Shoto whispered into your hair. 

“And if that means cryin’ in our arms while we keep you warm,” Bakugou added, swiping his thumb under your eye.

You swallowed thickly, wiping under your nose with the back of your hand. “I just… I feel like I can’t win lately. Like I keep trying so hard and everything still goes wrong.”

Shoto’s lips brushed your temple. “You're doing your best.”

“And your best ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed of,” Bakugou said, voice quieter than usual. “You hear me?”

You nodded.

And then, maybe it was instinct, or maybe it was your body looking for a different kind of release—but your thighs shifted. Pressed together. You didn’t mean to, not really. It wasn’t supposed to turn into anything. But they both noticed.

Shoto’s hand skimmed over your hip, careful, unassuming.

Bakugou’s eyes flicked to yours.

“Can we…?” he asked. Not demanding. Not teasing. Just offering.

You nodded again. “I think I need it.”

“Okay,” Shoto murmured, soft and sure. “We’ll be gentle.”

His fingers moved first, skimming down your stomach, past the waistband of your sleep shorts. They found your clit like they’d done a thousand times before—but this time you felt so soft, He circled it slowly and steady, warming you up like he was coaxing you out of your own head.

Bakugou leaned in, his forehead against yours. “Look at me,” he whispered. 

You let out a shaky breath, and when your hips shifted again, Shoto hummed behind you, pleased. “That’s it,” he said quietly.

Your eyes fluttered. “Feels good,” you whispered, burying your face in Bakugou's chest, your body curling into Shota's warm fingers to your clit.

Bakugou’s hand moved with purpose now, warm and solid against your thigh, his thumb drawing slowly, grounding circles into your skin. Shoto's fingers kept their steady rhythm, soft and attentive, like he was trying to replace every heavy thought in your head with something gentle—something that made you feel good again.

“You’re already so warm,” he whispered, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Let us take care of you.”

You moaned softly, caught between them. Shoto’s touch was smooth and practiced, but reverent—he wasn’t rushing you. Just easing you back into your own body, your own needs. Every slow stroke of his fingers over your pussy sent soft pulses of pleasure down your spine. And Bakugou—he was right there, his forehead still pressed to yours, watching every flicker of expression cross your face like he could memorize them all.

"You're okay," he murmured again. "We're right here."

Your hips rolled toward Shoto’s hand without thinking, the tension inside you slowly unspooling with each pass of his fingers. Bakugou kissed your cheek, then the corner of your mouth, his hand shifting to your waist, anchoring you as he moved closer.

"Feeling good?," he whispered, a cold breath tickling your ear peppering kisses to your ear and neck "You deserve this."

You reached for Bakugou blindly, fingers curling in the front of his shirt, tugging him closer. He caught your mouth with his gentleness at first—softer than he usually kissed, like he didn’t want to overwhelm you. But when your lips parted for him, he deepened it, slowly, carefully, like he was pouring everything he couldn’t say into it.

Behind you, Shoto’s lips found the curve of your neck. He kissed you there, tender and unhurried, his hand dipping lower. His fingers slid through, your leaking now, slipping into you with ease. You gasped softly, the stretch familiar, comforting.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Just like that.”

Bakugou’s forehead pressed against yours again. His breath was warm on your face. “You're beautiful baby.”

You felt like you were floating—caught in the space between them, surrounded by warmth and love and the kind of touch that didn’t ask anything of you except to feel. Their care was a balm, their touches a promise: you are safe here. You are loved.

Shoto curled his fingers inside you, and your body arched instinctively. Bakugou swallowed your soft moans with a kiss, his hand sliding down to your hip, grounding you again.

“Doing so good,” he said, voice thick with affection. “You always do.”

Your breathing hitched, pleasure blooming low and deep in your belly. Shoto’s rhythm never faltered, his other arm tightening around your waist. Bakugou kissed your jaw, cheek, and lips again. You were trembling now—close.

“I’ve got you,” Shoto whispered. “We’ve got you.”

And with a soft cry, you let go—melting into the heat and the safety of their bodies, the weight of the day finally breaking apart into something tender and good. They held you through it, arms wrapped around you like armor, touches never leaving your skin.

You lay there afterward, tucked between them, the quiet hum of their breathing anchoring you.

Bakugou brushed your hair from your face. “Feelin’ a little better?”

You nodded, voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah. Thanks to you guys.”

Shoto kissed your shoulder. “mmm.”

“You don’t have to be strong all the time, y’know,” Bakugou added softly. “Not with us.”

You curled in closer, surrounded by warmth and softness and steady, grounding love.

“I know,” you whispered. “I’m really lucky.”

Bakugo tips your chin and pecks it. “We’re the lucky ones idiot

[sansaorgana]

— MOTHER'S LOVE

PAIRING — Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — After arriving on Giedi Prime to marry Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, you find out the secret his family was hiding from you – he has a daughter. You quickly realise he has no idea about fatherhood but you step up to take care of the little girl.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — OH MY GOOOOD Anyone still remember me and my fics?! 🤣 This one is a bit different because it includes Feyd as a single dad lmao However, it's not super fluffy either. They're Harkonnens, after all, and the Reader is not exactly a good person either. 🙈 I googled some canon info on Dune Wiki but I didn't follow the events 1:1 (as usual).

WARNINGS — arranged marriage, Feyd's traumatic past mentioned, Feyd being a kinda neglecting father (he cares in his own way and don't worry, there is no actual abuse), Lady Margot is 💀 and it was no accident, Reader is power hungry and greedy (and she adapts to the Harkonnens quickly)

WORD COUNT — 7, 290

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

MOTHER'S LOVE

You didn’t have many expectations before arriving on Giedi Prime. You knew that your husband-to-be was a brutal man but you were old enough to be aware of the fact that most men were this way. You were quite excited in a way because you knew what your union would bring and what your union would eventually make you – an Empress.

Your father had been a close friend of the Emperor and he had been helping him to prevent the war with the Harkonnens who were holding too much power and resources for their own good. However, after a few incidents in which the Emperor had chosen not to show your father proper respect – your father had drastically changed the side of the conflict. He was a wealthy and powerful man as well and connecting your family with the Harkonnens was granting them to win the upcoming war with the Imperial forces quite easily. It was a matter of time when it would happen.

You were supposed to marry Baron Harkonnen’s nephew and heir, which would make you an Empress one day. It was a vicious union; born out of greed for power instead of any love or affection. In fact, you hadn’t even met Feyd-Rautha personally but you had heard rumours about him.

As it had been mentioned – you knew he was brutal. But you also knew all men were. Your own father had turned his back on the Emperor so suddenly and treacherously, after centuries of the families working together. Had it not been brutal as well? Brutality came in many different shapes and forms. 

Your father’s wealth and army were helpful but not significant enough for him to dictate any conditions. For his help, the Harkonnens had offered only one important thing – you becoming the future Empress. However, all the glory would be theirs and your father would remain nothing but a close friend, expanding his wealth freely. You often wondered how much the Emperor must have had disrespected your father for him to choose the Harkonnens to be his new overlords. However, you did not complain.

You wanted to be the Empress.

But in order to become her, you had to survive the Harkonnens and Giedi Prime first.

You were greeted with all the honours on this unfriendly, deathly planet. However, your husband was not a part of the greeting committee. Neither was his uncle, whose health was decreasing lately. Many suspected he would die soon, which would make you a Baroness much quicker than expected, however you were not sure about your future husband’s approach towards your union. If he wasn’t so keen on marrying you, he could change his mind the moment he no longer had to listen to his uncle. That was why you hoped to get married before Baron Harkonnen would die – to secure your position on Giedi Prime as Feyd-Rautha’s lawful wife.

People who greeted you on Giedi Prime were mostly servants of different ranks. You could distinguish them by robes but they all looked very similar if not identical. They were sickly pale, some of them had pitch-black eyes and they were all bald. The servants of the lowest rank looked like clones and you suspected that was what they truly were indeed. They had their necks marked with tattoos indicating their low status.

Servants of higher ranks looked more proper – their clothes were nice, their facial features were more natural and they actually talked to you, meanwhile the low rank servants remained silent and avoided your gaze.

You were taken to your new chambers inside the huge and black fortress in the heart of the planet. You were given a whole wing and a huge bedroom that had not been occupied in decades – ever since Baron Harkonnen’s mother had died.

“Won’t I be quite lonely here?” You asked a male servant who was showing you around. You didn’t like him already because something about his creepy smile and observing eyes was sending shivers down your spine.

“What do you mean, my Lady?” He tilted his bald head slightly and blinked a few times as if he was a robot experiencing a glitch in his system.

“The whole wing of the fortress is all for me?”

“Well, you have guards and servants here, my Lady,” he pointed out.

“They are not… equal companions, are they?” You explained, trying not to sound too cruel. But servants on Giedi Prime probably found your statement to be extremely gentle. They were used to much worse treatment from their masters.

“You are not the only inhabitant of this part of the fortress, my Lady,” the man told you, a little nervously.

You furrowed your brows.

“Care to explain?” You tried to hide your insecurity by looking around the room and pretending to admire the black furniture. 

“Countess Marie has her room nearby,” the servant explained and you smiled slightly when you found out there was, after all, some female Harkonnen around who would perhaps be a friend to you.

Your first thought was that she was Count Rabban’s wife – your future husband’s sister-in-law.

“Oh! There is some countess?” You asked, excitedly. “How old is she?”

“She…” the servant took a deep breath in. “She is six, my Lady.”

“Six?” You asked, your smile dropping as your heart froze inside your chest. “She’s… She’s a child?”

Many awful things you had heard of the Harkonnens but child-brides had never been any part of those stories.

The servant must have immediately realised what you were thinking.

“Oh! No, no, my Lady, she is not a wife…!” He assured you. “She is… Family,” he explained, mysteriously. “Either way, I shall leave you now to rest after long and exhausting travel. I will send a maid for you later to bring you dinner and keep you company, my Lady,” the servant nodded and left the room as the rest of the servants left behind him. The guards stayed behind the heavy doors to make sure you were safe… and to make sure you were no danger either.

You took a deep breath in as you looked around. Everything seemed to be so big and scary on this planet but you promised yourself that you would survive and adapt to it and you didn’t plan on changing that.

After dinner, when your maid left you to sleep, you sneaked out of the bedroom to walk around a little and to explore more of the fortress. You promised the confused guards you’d be back soon enough but you also asked them to search for you if you wouldn’t come back in a long time since there was a big chance of you getting lost. They agreed to it and you walked away, very proud of yourself.

As you were walking down the dark and empty corridor, after a short while you felt somebody’s presence around you. A pair of eyes following you around, which made you swallow thickly. Your heart pounded fast but as you looked behind you, no one seemed to be there. You thought it was your brain playing tricks on you in this unfriendly environment and you tried to remember that the Harkonnens were your new family and they would not hurt you.

Gathering the courage again, you calmed down and continued your walk when – suddenly and out of the darkness – you heard a giggle.

A childish, girly giggle with a hint of malice despite its innocent sound. You froze, widened your eyes and looked around.

“I’ve imagined you differently,” a girly voice announced and when your ears found the source of it, you turned around to face it.

The girl turned on the orb of light she was holding. But it was not in front of you – it was behind you. You turned around once more and she chuckled, visibly proud of herself for playing tricks on you.

She had to be Countess Marie the servant had mentioned earlier – she was around six years old and she surely had Harkonnen blood in her. Her eyes were bright blue and her skin was snow-white. However, she was not bald – she had long and blond hair, which was braided. Her clothes were black and she had a small dagger attached to her hip.

“Countess Marie, I assume,” you extended your hand towards her in a friendly manner. “I am (Y/N) of the House (Y/L/N),” you introduced yourself.

“I know who you are,” Marie shrugged her arms and allowed the orb of light to float around her freely now as she took the dagger out and began to play with it.

It made you feel uneasy as you retreated your hand which she hadn’t shaken. She wouldn’t actually hurt you, would she?

“O-oh, yeah?” You asked. “Well, that’s nice… You see, I had no idea about you until a few hours ago,” you cracked a smile.

“I’m not significant. I’m a bastard,” the girl shrugged her arms again. “And I promised not to bother you but I was curious,” she admitted.

“Promised not to bother me?” You were surprised. “Honey, who did you promise such a thing and why?”

Honey, you had called her – despite her demeanour, she was still a little girl and it was difficult to see her as anything else.

She didn’t seem to mind, though. In fact, she ignored that.

“I promised my daddy and grandpa not to bother you,” she explained.

“Oh, I see,” you nodded, assuming that she treated the Baron as her grandfather. “Are you Count Rabban’s daughter?” You decided to ask more openly now.

She widened her eyes at your question.

“No-o,” she shook her head and hid her dagger. “I’m a Harkonnen,” she told you, proudly.

You began to understand the situation and you couldn’t help but grow angry – how could they hide this fact from you?!

“Well, darling, either way, it is late already and you should be in bed,” you extended your hand towards her again but she took a step back. You retreated your hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s simply not a good time for little girls to be outside their bedrooms.”

“Daddy says I can go to bed at any time I want as long as I am up early for my training,” she explained and then she looked down. “Or… Are you changing the rules now?”

“I am not changing any rules between you and your daddy, it is not my right to do so,” you explained, softly. “However, I would sleep better knowing that you are safe in your bed,” you said.

“What do you care?” Countess Marie asked.

“How could I not, angel? Come on, let’s go to bed,” you nodded your head and she eventually agreed although she also rolled her eyes.

She showed you where her chambers were and you watched her walk past her guards and back into her room. After that, you went back to your bedroom as well but you couldn’t sleep at night.

How could they hide from you that your husband had a daughter?

You demanded to see your husband-to-be after breakfast, although you were advised against by many servants. Mornings were for Feyd-Rautha’s combat training and he should not be interrupted.

However, you could not wait for the meeting. You demanded to be taken to him and the guards had to follow your command although you could see they were not happy about it.

You rushed behind them through the corridors full of servants and Harkonnen noblemen that were turning their heads to take a better look at you. They were curious about you because you were a foreigner, a daughter of the infamous and treacherous Lord but you also stood out with your normal looks that seemed to be exotic on Giedi Prime.

When you arrived at the training grounds, you crossed the nearly magical border between the interior and exterior. Now, you were exposed to the radioactive sunlight, which caused the world around you to be black and white. You knew that the fortress was shielded from the deathly amount of radiation but it was not making anything outside colourful.

The very first sound that greeted you was an animalistic roar coming out of a warrior’s throat. He was standing in the middle of the courtyard with a dagger in his hand as a muscular slave-warrior in front of him kneeled down and fell over after his own throat had been sliced open. The victorious warrior raised his hand to show off the bloody knife and a smaller, clean knife raised behind him. You squinted your eyes and spotted Countess Marie cheering and mimicking the man in the middle.

“That is Feyd-Rautha, my Lady,” the servant whispered to you.

Your heart skipped a beat. Your future husband looked terrifying, especially in black-and-white. His eyes were snake-like, his head was bald and his body was very muscular yet flexible. He spotted you and after a while of hesitation, he walked towards you quite angrily, which caused all the servants to take a few steps back but you stayed in your position, refusing to show fear so openly.

The closer he was, the more handsome you were realising he seemed to be. It was nearly unnatural for a Harkonnen to be so attractive but here he stood – right in front of you. Young, healthy, strong and attractive in a mysterious and fascinating way. He was a perfect warrior – of that you were sure.

But would he be a perfect Emperor?

“Why are you interrupting my training?” He asked. His voice surprised you – it sounded very deep and unsettling.

“I couldn’t wait to meet you,” you answered.

“You are interrupting my training,” he pointed out.

“Surely, you can take a little break to meet your future wife?” You cracked a smile.

Feyd-Rautha seemed to be confused. Finally, his little girl emerged from behind him with a big grin on her face.

“Daddy, don’t be so grim! Lady (Y/N) is nice!” She announced and you breathed out of relief. For some reason, this little menace seemed to like you already.

“Oh, yeah?” Feyd-Rautha tilted his head at you and smirked. “Well, nice little things don’t last long on Giedi Prime, haven’t I told you?”

“Your daughter seems to be doing well, na-baron,” you dared to say and he squinted his eyes.

“I don’t raise her to be nice. And you should not bother with her at all anyway,” he explained and sighed a little. “Nevermind, you have interrupted my training already. Let’s go and talk somewhere,” he pointed at the doors leading back inside the fortress.

“Can I go with you?” Countess Marie asked.

“No,” Feyd-Rautha told her. “You go back to your room and attend your classes.”

“But–”

Feyd didn’t bother to listen to that, though. He walked past his daughter.

“How about you coming to my chambers after your classes and we’ll get to know each other better then?” You asked the girl with a smile.

“I can’t visit other people alone in their chambers except for my daddy,” she widened her eyes. “He doesn’t allow that. It’s dangerous,” she added and you furrowed your brows.

He seemed not to care much about this little girl but then, when it came to certain aspects, he was nearly overprotective.

“I will talk to him and if he still doesn’t allow it, we’ll invite some servants as well, how about that?” You asked her and she nodded with a smile.

You reached out to caress her face but she flinched, so you took a step back again.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“It’s fine but he doesn’t allow strangers to touch me,” she explained. “Unless they’re servants who help me change clothes and all that – unless it’s necessary, you see.”

“I see,” you nodded. “Well, see you later, Marie.”

“See you later, Lady (Y/N).”

After that, you hurried back inside the fortress to enter it through the same doors your husband-to-be had entered a few moments earlier. In fact, they were still open because Feyd was holding them for you with an annoyed expression.

“Sorry,” you smiled awkwardly at him when you finally were both inside the fortress. Here, where colours were visible, he didn’t seem to gain much more colours himself. His skin seemed to be a bit less white and his eyes were the same shade as Marie’s but that was it. He was still mostly black-and-white.

“You don’t have to befriend her,” Feyd-Rautha announced. “She is a bastard,” he explained. “If we don’t produce any heirs, she might become my na-baroness but I don’t think this will happen. Noblemen here wouldn’t accept a female leader anyway,” he shrugged his arms.

“How can you say that?” You asked him. “Let me be clear, I do not know much of you or your history but I do not accept the way you treat your daughter or me. Why is she not significant? Why was her existence hidden from me? Are women only objects here? Pawns? I am aware we hold less power on Giedi Prime but I was not told that women have no rights here,” you crossed your arms.

“Do not be daft,” Feyd-Rautha rolled his eyes and leaned on the black marble pillar inside the hall. “After my seventeenth birthday a Bene Gesserit witch used me to manipulate the bloodlines. It is an accident I barely remember,” Feyd-Rautha said. “I don’t like being out of control and at that moment I had none. She became pregnant with my child and wanted to raise Marie as another Bene Gesserit witch. Some sisters of that order are more loyal to the Harkonnens than their convent – that’s how I found out about my daughter. I killed her mother and her husband. I wanted to kill the girl, too, but I took her in to raise her as a warrior instead. After all, she’s my blood,” he shrugged his arms.

Both him and Marie tended to shrug their arms a lot – showing off how little they cared about literally everything. It was quite… adorable.

“You changed your mind because she is your child,” you pointed out, pretending not to be moved by the story. In fact, it terrified you that he admitted so openly to murder the mother of his child, although you were aware of the rumour that he had killed his own mother.

It would be very easy for him to kill you off, too, eventually…

“She is,” Feyd-Rautha nodded. “Us, Harkonnens, we have different ways of raising children than you, that’s it.”

“I don’t want to interfere or change your ways,” you explained. “But I refuse to pretend she doesn’t exist. As you said, she is a bastard and a girl, therefore she is no threat to me or any children I will bear,” you announced and he raised his eyebrows as if he was a little surprised and impressed.

As usual – he shrugged his arms.

“Can I spend time with her alone? Can I touch her?” You asked, more carefully now. “I feel like this child is not being hugged enough.”

“Harkonnens don’t hug,” Feyd growled.

“I just don’t understand why–”

“You can,” he interrupted you. “As my future wife, you can but the rule exists for a reason. It is to protect her and I don’t want you to extend the exception to other people as well.”

“Protect her from what?” You asked, furrowing your brows.

“My uncle,” he answered and a long silence occurred.

“I see…” You took a deep breath in. “I… Well, it was nice to meet you, finally,” you admitted. “I must go now, the wedding takes place in a week from now and I have lots of preparations.”

“Don’t lock your bedroom doors in the evening,” he whispered and you raised your eyebrow at him. “I’ll claim you tonight,” he said casually.

“E-excuse me?” You asked.

“You heard me well, pet,” he smirked.

“The wedding takes place in a–”

“The fuck do I care about the wedding? You’re mine now,” Feyd shrugged his arms and walked away, leaving you scared and confused.

What if he claims you and then throws you away, accusing you of being spoiled and unfit for marriage? That would be a disaster.

Marie came to your chambers in the afternoon and you watched her go through your things with a smile on your lips. Perhaps it was a little rude of her to be so nosy but you were simply glad there was at least one ally in this fortress that you had. And, for some reason, despite her odd nature, you found her rather amusing and adorable.

“I’m glad your father allowed us to spend time together,” you said.

“Yes, it is now only you and him I am allowed to be alone with,” she pointed out. “It’s as if you were my mummy,” she said and your smile dropped when you remembered what he did to hers.

Did she know about it?

“My mother’s dead, you know?” She asked. “She was a bad person and daddy had to kill her.”

“I… I know,” you admitted. “Don’t you miss her?”

“I don’t remember her,” Marie shrugged her arms. “And she was a bad person. Bad people shouldn’t live,” she explained.

“Who defines bad, Marie?” You asked, curiously. After all, it was an odd thing to hear such a thing coming from a Harkonnen.

“Daddy does,” she nearly rolled her eyes, as if you were asking silly questions. “What is that?” She pointed at a white veil you had brought with yourself from your homeplanet.

“It’s for the wedding,” you explained.

“They’re going to laugh at you,” Marie chuckled. “Brides don’t wear such things here.”

“Oh? And what do they wear?” You asked.

“Different types of veils but not this… Whatever that is. And the colour is awful as well,” she pointed out.

“It’s lace, Marie. And it’s white,” you explained, patiently.

“White is a colour for servants,” she said and threw the veil away as you realised that, in fact, most white clothes you had seen on Giedi Prime were on the backs of servants.

“I don’t want people to laugh at me,” you admitted. “Will you help me?”

“Sure, I can. You’re going to be an Empress one day, you can’t look ridiculous!” Marie exclaimed and you chuckled. “What? You think I’m funny?” She asked.

“No, darling, I think you’re quite adorable,” you admitted and opened your arms.

She hesitantly approached you and you hugged her but she remained stiff as if she didn’t know what was happening. Perhaps Feyd was right and the Harkonnens didn’t hug.

“Why are you calling me these things?” She asked and you furrowed your brows. “Honey, darling, angel… I don’t understand,” Marie said.

“That’s how we address children where I am from,” you explained. “They’re nice things to say.”

“But I am not nice,” Marie protested and winced a little.

“Yes, you are, darling,” you assured her. “You’re a very nice little girl. A strong warrior, too, I am sure. But these two don’t have to contradict each other.”

“I would have to ask daddy about that,” Marie sighed and went back to looking through your things.

You watched her with a smile although there was a sense of dread rising with each given moment as well since you could feel the time passing and inevitably bringing you closer to the nighttime.

Feyd-Rautha was incredibly precise. In fact, a week later, on the day of your wedding ceremony, you were already carrying his son – the unnaturally advanced Harkonnen technology was able to confirm that on the night before.

You were both shocked and impressed by that and also by the fact Feyd was announcing that to everyone already during the wedding ceremonies and all those noble Harkonnens were cheering proudly instead of accusing you of infamy and adultery.

You wore red for that day – and so did little Marie. You were holding her hand by the wedding table and she was telling you funny facts about the scary Harkonnen noblemen surrounding you, which made you feel less intimidated by them. It was obvious to everyone that she had grown attached to you very quickly and everyone wondered why but you didn’t need to be a genius to know. You were coming from a planet where children were being treated well, like children instead of small adults being trained, and you knew they needed attention and affection to feel safe and loved. You were giving Marie all the things no one had ever been giving to her.

Whatever Feyd was thinking of that you had no idea. He was mostly excited about his son and heir you were pregnant with. As a husband he was treating you in a similar way he treated his daughter – he was rather indifferent but showed that he cared at times.

Oddly, you weren’t scared of him – you could sense that he was treating you like a business partner in a sense. After all, the two of you would rule the whole empire together one day. You had to work it out somehow.

During your wedding party, he left you for a while for a meeting with his uncle and a strange Bene Gesserit woman that came from an outer world. You thought she was a usual wedding guest but apparently she also visited to deal with some business here and you tried to hide the fact that it annoyed you how you were left out of this meeting.

“What do you think this might be about?” You asked Marie.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged her arms. “I’m technically a Bene Gesserit, too, you know?”

“But you’re not being trained, are you?”

“No, daddy doesn’t allow that. They’re bad people,” she shrugged her arms. “Can we eat more cake?”

“Absolutely!” You smiled widely.

Two weeks later you were in Marie’s chambers, reading history books to her. Bored in the fortress and not being given any real duties because of your blessed state, you replaced half of Marie’s tutors and you were teaching her yourself whatever you were able to.

She seemed to be quite distracted on that day, though. She was lazily playing with her dagger and looking out of the window as you were reading to her about other planets.

“How do colours look like outside Giedi Prime?” She asked suddenly. “I mean, outside. If I were on a different planet,” she explained.

“You don’t remember?” You asked and put the book down. Marie shook her head. “Well, it’s very colourful. Depends on a planet, of course, some are mostly green, some mostly yellow, some mostly blue. Some have lots of forests, some have lots of water and some have lots of sand.”

“Why?”

“It depends on temperatures and minerals that can be found on those planets. When our ancestors were colonising the universe, they were shaping the planets to inhabit them but there were limits within each of them. For example, you cannot make Giedi Prime look like Arrakis because of how different their suns are,” you explained. “Why are you asking, darling? Would you like to go and see a different planet? I might convince your daddy to let us leave to my homeplanet after the baby is born. Would you like to go with me?”

Marie shrugged her arms and looked away again.

“Will my brother look more like you or my daddy?” She asked.

“I certainly hope he will be a mix of both. Like you are a mix, are you not, honey? You have beautiful hair,” you smiled at her and caressed the blonde braid.

“I hope he has hair, too,” Marie smiled but her eyes remained sad. “Do you think he would like me?”

“Would? I’m sure he will adore you, Marie!” You caressed her cheek and her lower lip trembled. “What is it?”

“They haven’t told you,” she sniffled and you shook your head, feeling your heart sink deeper into your chest. “That Bene Gesserit lady who came when you married my daddy… She was here for me. They will take me soon with them and train me at their convent.”

“But you said your daddy didn’t want that,” you gasped.

“Well, now he has you and the baby,” she shrugged her arms but it was obvious that she cared.

She cared very much.

“Marie, I won’t let them take you away,” you cupped her face and looked deep into her bright eyes, so identical to her father’s. Yet so different – they weren’t so cold and empty like his.

Now, they were scared.

“How?” She asked, sadly. “You have no real power here,” she reminded you and it felt like a slap that even a child could see the truth about your position.

Usually, you were only seeing Feyd in the evenings inside the chambers you were now sharing with him as his wife. He hadn’t particularly asked for it but you had just moved in there and he hadn’t said anything negative about it.

You were sitting up in your bed when he entered and took a look at you before starting to take off his gear.

“How’s my son?” He asked.

“Is that all you care about?” You asked, angrily. Your unusual answer surprised him, so he turned his head around with furrowed brows.

“What else should I care about?” He inquired.

“You have a daughter as well,” you reminded him and he sighed, looking away again and going back to undressing himself. “I know the way she was conceived was far from ideal but it is not her fault.”

“I have told you not to bother yourself with her,” he mumbled out.

“What?!” You jumped out of the bed and crossed your arms. “If the child I’m carrying was a girl, would you treat her the same?”

“It would be different,” Feyd rolled his eyes. “I didn’t want Marie to spend time with you because my uncle said she could ruin our union. Apparently, he wasn’t wrong but in the opposite way. She’s not ruining our union because you hate her. She’s ruining it because you started to think you’re her mother,” Feyd growled angrily. “But she has no mother.”

“Because you killed her!” You were growing frustrated with his logic. “And now you’re sending her away! You said you hated Bene Gesserit witches! You told Marie that they were bad people and now you’re sending her away to them!”

“Has she told you?” Feyd was annoyed by that as he stepped out of his gear, wearing nothing but his underwear now. He never bothered with wearing pyjamas to bed, so he just passed you by and laid on the bed with a relaxed sigh, as if you were not in the middle of an argument.

The funny fact about him was that he couldn’t really argue – he wasn’t used to people disagreeing with him. Not people who were of lower status than him at least. And, as his wife, you unfortunately had a lower status because you were a woman.

“I don’t want Marie to go. She has to stay,” you stood above him with your arms still crossed.

“I am her father, the decision is mine. I didn’t want to send her there but they came here, they explained they needed her. She’s a part of their program. If we don’t listen to them, Bene Gesserit might turn their backs on us and we need their support if we’re going to take over the imperial throne,” Feyd explained and reached his hand out to touch your belly a little. “The medic said you shouldn’t get too emotional in your state, so calm down.”

But him telling you to calm down had an opposite effect, obviously.

“She’s not a part of a program!” You slapped his hand away, watching his eyes darken with anger. “She’s a child, Feyd! And fuck those Bene Gesserit witches! Fuck them, we don’t need them!”

“We need a religious institution to control the masses,” Feyd’s jaw clenched.

“Then we’ll create our own religion to replace theirs. We’ll turn people against them. I don’t want to be an Empress of an Empire I don’t have full control of. The Bene Gesserit are too dangerous and too independent.”

“Not if Marie becomes their Reverend Mother one day,” Feyd smirked.

Oh, so they already had a plan. The Baron must have come up with it. Men loved to plan out women’s whole lives like that.

“If I was her, I wouldn’t help us even a bit. I would hate us for sending me away,” you spat out, angrily.

“Such a vengeful little thing, just like your father, hm? Treacherous little snake, you would turn your back on everyone just for the sake of it,” Feyd moved up and now his face was so close to yours that your noses were nearly brushing each other.

“And you’re any different?” You asked but you answered before he could. “Yes, you are. You are different because I could never be so indifferent towards my own child. She loves you, how can you not see that? She calls you daddy, she mimics you, she wants to be like you. She trains with you, she cheers when you’re in the arena, she’s so proud of you. She believes every single fucking thing you say to her and some of those are malicious lies. Do you even realise how lucky you are to have her in your life?” You asked and kept looking at him with anger.

Feyd went silent, though, and you could see his facial features softened a little.

“It is not something I’ve been trained for,” he admitted.

“What?”

“Being a father,” he admitted. “I’ve been trained to kill and endure pain. To rule and obey my uncle. That is all I know. I always assumed that my future wife would raise my children. I don’t know how to do that.”

And in that moment you pitied him but you knew he would hate your pity, so you tried not to show it.

“I know,” you reached out to cup his face and he flinched just like Marie had flinched in the beginning. However, he allowed you to touch him and you cracked a smile while caressing his cheeks softly. “I know, darling, but I am here now and I can be a mother to her. I want to be a mother to her. If you send her away now, I will never forgive you. And neither will she,” you whispered.

“Some things I cannot control. They demand her to go with them,” he swallowed thickly, looking up at you with mesmerised eyes. You enjoyed that feeling.

“They demand? They demand you? You’re Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. You can tell them to go fuck themselves. If you don’t, that will mean that you won’t be able to protect our children either. I thought I married a strong man who would lead a whole universe one day. A ruthless leader, no compromise,” you caressed his cheeks some more, knowing perfectly well that you were manipulating him in the process.

“You’re different than I’ve expected,” Feyd confessed, his lips now brushing yours in a way that was making you feel tingly.

“I’ve heard that before,” you smiled and leaned in to finally close the gap between you two with a passionate kiss. You hoped he would listen to you.

Only time would tell.

You were with Marie in the courtyard when you saw the mysterious ship arrive and land nearby the fortress. You recognised it immediately – it belonged to the Bene Gesserit order.

Marie looked up at you with big, scared eyes. She could be a bold little girl with a dagger attached to her hip but in times like this she was just a terrified and lonely little baby. You didn’t want her to feel this way. Not now and not ever.

“I won’t let them take you,” you mouthed out but she looked down, unsurely. 

You held her hand and squeezed it tightly to walk her back inside and go to her room but on your way you were stopped by a servant telling you that Countess Marie was expected in the great hall where Baron Harkonnen resided.

You nodded at the servant and changed your route to go to the place where they were expecting Marie. However, you wouldn’t leave her alone there. No, you would go with her and try to defend her as much as you could. 

The room was huge, dark and nearly empty. The Baron was floating above everyone maliciously, connected to all sorts of machines and devices that were increasing in size with each given day. Speaking of his days – they were surely counted. Both you and Feyd couldn’t wait for the one when he would simply die.

Feyd was there as well, with his hands crossed behind his back. He looked nervous when you and Marie arrived as some old Bene Gesserit woman was standing there and staring at the little girl.

“There she is, Marie Fenring, Margot’s daughter,” the Bene Gesserit greeted her and Marie clinged to the black skirt of your dress.

“She’s a Harkonnen,” Feyd pointed out.

“Such a shame your wife is carrying a son. Your combination was unexpected and unplanned in our program but it certainly is interesting,” the woman continued. “Such varieties can enrich our system.”

“What are you doing here?” You asked, rudely, as you put your hand on Marie’s shoulder.

“Forgive the young ones,” Baron Harkonnen coughed as he mumbled out. “My nephew and his wife need a lesson or two about manners,” he tried to laugh. “Of course, you can take the little one with you. Let’s get it over with.”

“No, she cannot. I do not allow that,” you took a step ahead to hide Marie behind you.

“You know I don’t need permission, na-baroness,” the Bene Gesserit smirked. “Don’t make me use The Voice on you when you’re in such a blessed state,” she added with irony.

“If you do that, I’ll kill you,” Feyd barked at her. “If you touch my wife or my daughter, you’re dead,” he threatened.

“Calm down, boy!” His uncle scolded him.

“I am far too important and powerful to be scared of you. Do you think you can kill off a Bene Gesserit sister like me with no consequences?” She laughed at him as she raised her eyebrow cockily.

“That is exactly what I can do as your Emperor,” he tilted his head.

“You’re not one yet, are you? And you won’t be one without our help,” the woman was growing angry but her frustration was aimed at your husband instead of you now.

“We don’t need your help,” you moved closer to Feyd and Marie reached out her little hand towards her daddy. He didn’t hold it, so she clung to his suit with it as she was holding onto your skirt with the other. “My husband and I do not need help from anyone and the days of your sisterhood are being counted just as much as the Baron’s or the Emperor’s. Nobody is going to tell us what we can or have to do. The new order is coming and it’s coming soon,” you stated.

“Such insolence! My Baron, have you heard that?!” The Bene Gesserit looked behind her to look at your husband’s uncle but he was coughing uncontrollably and the servants were already helping him to float out of the room.

She realised that Baron Harkonnen wasn’t in power anymore. You straightened your back when she laid her eyes back at you.

“You do not have friends amongst the Harkonnens anymore,” Feyd said, calmly.

“Unless you cooperate,” you added with a smile.

“Cooperate how?” She asked.

“Let’s start with not taking our daughter away,” you said without thinking and then you felt your cheeks heating up when you realised you had called Marie your daughter.

You hoped it wouldn't make the little Countess or her father angry.

“I see,” the Bene Gesserit woman nodded and clasped her hands. “You’ve adapted quickly. Not many people believed you would survive here but I was one of the few who knew your father’s true nature. We knew that if you were at least half a viper he is, you would adapt here very well.”

“Oh, thank you,” you gave her a fake, charming smile.

“I know that some of my sisters are more loyal to the Harkonnens than our cause,” the woman revealed with a mysterious smile as if she was threatening you with controversial secrets.

“I suggest befriending them then,” you nodded with a smile. “ Quickly, if I were you.”

She left after that, clearly uncomfortable. You could see how she was itching to use The Voice on you but she had to be terrified of Feyd’s threats.

When the heavy doors closed behind her, you felt Marie’s hold onto your skirt loosening. You looked down and realised that Feyd was holding her hand after all – you had no idea when he had begun squeezing it but it warmed your heart.

“Thank you…” Marie’s lower lip trembled.

“Harkonnens don’t cry,” Feyd scolded her.

“Yes, they do,” you crouched down and hugged little Marie. She wrapped her arms around you and you caressed her hair. “Little Harkonnen girls can do whatever they want,” you added and patted her back.

“As long as it’s something father and mother allow,” Feyd added and you cracked a smile. He seemed to be fine with you becoming Marie’s mother.

“Yes, as long as mummy and daddy approve,” you moved away a bit and fixed Marie’s hair.

“Will you really be my mummy?” Marie asked with eyes full of tears.

“Of course, honey. My sweet angel, my darling,” you kissed her cheeks.

“What if I become a bad person like my real mother?” She asked and you went silent for a while. You didn’t know what to say to that.

“You won’t,” Feyd put his hand on her shoulder. “You’re not her,” he assured her and she smiled.

A maid interrupted you all as she was looking for Marie because her tutor had been waiting for her. So, you wiped your girl’s cheeks from tears and sent her away with the maid so she could attend her class.

“What if she finds out the truth one day?” You asked Feyd.

“What truth?” He squinted his eyes.

“That her mother wasn’t exactly evil. That you didn’t have to kill her, it was just the fact that your ego was hurt so much because you had been used like thousands of noble men before you,” you teased and caressed your belly to remind him of your pregnancy in case he would get angry.

“Oh, please,” Feyd laughed, though. He approached you and stood so close that his nose brushed with yours. He liked to show you affection like this, you had realised that lately. Rubbing your nose with his carefully as if he was an animal sniffing the scent of his mate. He was an animal in many ways, after all. But you would domesticate him, of that you were sure.

Just like his daughter, he just needed a little attention and affection.

“She won’t mind,” he assured you. “She’s going to be my daughter raised by you. Brutality and treachery won’t make her flinch,” he added proudly and you chuckled before caressing his cheeks gently.

“Why should they?” You whispered and kissed him lovingly.

You were sure now that by his side you could feel safe and he would protect you and your family even if it was someone as powerful as the Bene Gesserit to threaten you. 

MASTERLIST

[isak-dot-gov]

Hi! Can you please do a Paige x reader wife wherein they had a fight in the morning just before Paige went off to training and the reader stays at home but was so upset that she decided to go out even though Paige told her to stay at home because they’re still new in the neighborhood and she might get lost. And can it be fluff please. Thank you so much!

Priorities

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Word count: 1331

My masterlist :)

....................................................

The early morning sunlight slanted through the kitchen windows, casting a soft glow over the empty coffee mugs and the half-opened box of cereal. You stood by the counter, arms tightly crossed over your chest, watching Paige as she rushed around the kitchen, her sneakers squeaking against the wooden floor as she fumbled with her duffel bag. She was trying to be quick, but it only made her seem more distant. The morning was supposed to be for the two of you—a long-awaited day off to explore the new neighbourhood, to finally feel like you were home after so many changes. But now, as you stared at her, you couldn’t help but feel that familiar sting of disappointment.

“So, that’s it? You’re really going to cancel our plans?” Your voice was sharper than you intended, but it was too late to reel it back in.

Paige froze for a second, her fingers pausing on the strap of her bag. She looked up at you, her expression a mix of apology and guilt, but the determination in her eyes never wavered. “I have to go, babe,” she said quietly. “Coach called last night. The team’s running plays today, and we’re already on a tight schedule. We have to get this right if we want to win the game this weekend.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stay calm, though it felt impossible. “And what about us?” You took a few steps closer, fighting the lump in your throat. “What about the day you promised we’d finally have? Just the two of us? You and me. No basketball, no practice, just… us, Paige. Do I really have to keep coming second to your career?”

Paige winced at your words, the hurt evident in the way her shoulders slumped. “That’s not fair, you know it,” she replied, voice low and strained. “You knew this wasn’t going to be easy when we moved here. I’m not doing this just for me; I’m doing it for the team, for the future. You know how much this means.”

“Do I?” You threw your hands up in frustration. “Because it feels like every time we make plans, I’m left holding the bag while you’re out on the court. I feel like I’m constantly sacrificing for your dream, but when do I get some of your time?”

Her face softened with regret, but she didn’t step closer. Instead, she moved to the door, her hand resting on the handle, her back to you. “Please stay home today. It could be dangerous out there, we're still new to the neighbourhood, and I don’t want you getting lost.”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the surge of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. “I’ll be fine. I don’t need you to babysit me, Paige. I’m not asking for much. Just… us. But maybe that’s too much to ask for.” The words came out sharper than you intended, and you immediately regretted them, but it was too late.

Paige turned around, her eyes wide with a mixture of pain and frustration. “You’re right. I should’ve handled this better, but I’m doing my best. I want you here with me. I need to go, baby. I love you. Please don’t leave the house.”

The air between you felt suffocating. You wanted to forgive her, wanted to hold her and tell her everything would be okay. But instead, all you could do was look at her, the disappointment still lodged in your chest as you watched her walk out the front door.

You tried to stay in the house, you really did, but with the bitter taste your argument with Paige left in your mouth, and the lack of an entertaining activity you grabbed your jacket and walked out the door, not giving her instruction to you a second thought. As you stepped into the crisp morning air, the cold wind hitting your face was a welcome distraction. The streets were quiet, but the further you walked, the more distant you felt from Paige—and from everything you had hoped today would be.

You didn’t know how far you were walking, but with each step, your frustration seemed to dissipate. There was something soothing about the neighbourhood—the little details you had been meaning to explore but never found the time for. The small, tucked-away cafes. The vibrant murals on the walls. It was all new, but there was a sense of calm in the unfamiliarity.

You stopped at a café situated on the neighbourhood's park, ordering a cup of coffee, hoping it would settle the unease gnawing at you. As you sat by the window, watching people walk by, you pulled out your phone. A series of missed calls from Paige stared up at you. Each one felt like a reprimand, each one a silent plea for you to come back.

You slid your phone back into your pocket. You didn’t know if you were ready to face her yet. Maybe you needed more time, or maybe you just didn’t know how to process everything. The truth was, you didn’t want to be angry with her. You just felt… invisible. Like you were always expected to put her career first, but when did your needs ever come second?

The daylight faded as you wandered further, following the winding streets that seemed to go on forever. You had no idea how far you’d gone, or how long you’d been walking. The stress of the morning weighed on your shoulders, but now there was a creeping worry: you were lost. Really lost.

Your heart quickened, and a sudden wave of panic swept over you. You pulled out your phone again as you continued walking around in an attempt to find your way home, but this time, you stared at the map, trying to orient yourself. You didn’t recognize anything.

What if something happened? you thought.

Then your phone buzzed again. Paige.

You looked at the screen, your thumb hovering over the call. But you couldn’t bring yourself to answer. The guilt was almost suffocating, but the frustration still lingered.

As you took a deep breath, ready to try and figure out where you were, you heard the sound of footsteps approaching behind you. You turned, only to see Paige, her face flushed from running, her expression a mix of relief and concern.

“Baby?” Her voice cracked slightly as she hurried to you, her eyes scanning your face for any sign of distress. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I couldn’t get in touch with you, and I—I was so scared. I thought something happened to you.”

The moment she reached you, she didn’t wait for you to say anything. She pulled you into a tight hug, her arms wrapping around you as though she couldn’t stand the thought of letting you go. You stood there, stunned for a moment, your heart hammering in your chest, before you finally let go of the breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t mean to worry you. I just needed to get away for a bit.”

Paige pulled back, cupping your face in her hands, her thumb brushing over the wetness on your cheeks. “No, I’m sorry. I should’ve listened to you. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you’re second place. You’re my everything.”

Your chest tightened at her words, the weight of the morning's argument finally breaking free. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have walked away like that. I just didn’t know how to handle it.”

She leaned in, brushing a soft kiss across your forehead. “Let’s go home,” she said, her voice steady and comforting.

With a final, lingering glance around the neighbourhood, you both turned and made your way back. As you walked side by side, you knew this wasn’t the end of your struggles. But it was a beginning—a promise that no matter how lost you got, you would always find your way back to each other.

[nameless-jamie]

The Hangover Helper

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing, suggestive scenes

7:32 AM – Jamie Tartt’s Flat

Y/N knew exactly what she was walking into before she even stepped inside.

The second she opened the door (thankfully, she remembered to use the spare key Jamie had given her after the fourth time he lost his own), she was hit with the overwhelming stench of tequila, regret, and expensive cologne.

The place was a disaster.

Clothes on the floor. A half-eaten kebab on the coffee table. A single sock dangling from the ceiling fan—she didn’t even wanna ask.

And then, from the depths of his bedroom, came the unmistakable sound of a dying man.

She sighed, rolling her eyes. Here we go.

With her coffee in one hand and zero patience in the other, she made her way to his room, nudging the door open with her foot.

And there he was.

Jamie Tartt. Top half covered, bottom half naked...as usual.

Premier League footballer. Richmond’s golden boy. A man so dramatic he made Shakespeare look like a realist.

Currently, he was face-down in his pillows, covered by half a blanket, groaning like he’d been personally cursed by the gods.

“Oh my god,” he mumbled, voice muffled. “Close the door. It’s too loud an' bright.”

She scoffed. “Jamie, the door is silent. You’re hungover, not a vampire.”

Another groan. “I might be. Feels like I’m dyin’.”

She took a long, deliberate sip of her coffee. “Good. Serves you right.”

Jamie peeked one bloodshot eye out from his cocoon of suffering. “That’s well cruel. What happened to ‘in sickness and in health,’ eh?”

She snorted. “That’s marriage, Jamie. I’m your assistant, not your wife.”

Jamie smirked weakly. “Dunno. Feels like we’re emotionally married at this point. You've already kissed me that one time, remember?”

“I told you it was an accident, Jamie! I wasn't in the right state of mind. You said it's okay and that you won't mention it again! God, if I were your wife I'd want a divorce.”

He rolled his eyes and mumbled something along the lines of "How do you even kiss someone 'on accident'" into his pillow

She ignored him and clapped her hands. “C’mon, superstar, time to get up.”

Jamie groaned louder, dramatically flopping onto his back. “Can’t. Won’t. Refuse.”

“You have training.”

“I have a headache.”

“Your fault.”

“You’re mean.”

“You’re annoying.”

Jamie pouted, fully committing to his dramatics. “I thought you were supposed to take care of me.”

She crossed her arms. “I do. Every day. Which is why I know you have exactly seven minutes before I call Roy and tell him you’re too hungover to come in.”

Jamie bolted upright.

His head immediately regretted it.

“Fuck,” he winced, grabbing his temples. “Don’t be evil.”

She grinned. “Then move your fine ass.”

Jamie huffed, flopping back down. “Alright. But you gotta help me.”

“Help you what?”

He smirked that smirk, eyes half-lidded and full of mischief. “Get dressed. I’m all weak an’ vulnerable, babe.”

She rolled her eyes so hard they almost fell out of her skull. “You literally run ten miles in a match, Jamie.”

He made grabby hands. “Too hungover. You gotta do it.”

She threw a pillow at his face.

Jamie cackled, but it quickly turned into a pained groan as his head protested the movement.

“Christ,” he muttered, rubbing his temples. “Never lettin’ Jack Daniels win again.”

She sat on the edge of the bed, sighing. “How bad is it?”

Jamie dramatically collapsed onto her lap, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“Swear down, I’d die without ya,” he mumbled, half-asleep already.

Her heart stuttered, but she refused to let him know that.

Instead, she poked his forehead. “You wouldn’t. You’d just be late to training and piss off Roy.”

Jamie sighed, sinking deeper into her lap, voice all sleepy and soft.

“Same thing, innit?”

She let out a small breath, barely suppressing a smile as she ran her fingers through his messy hair.

“Alright, drama queen,” she muttered, nudging his shoulder. “If I make you coffee, will you actually get up?”

Jamie peeked up at her, grinning lazily. “Only if you drink it with me in bed.”

She scoffed. “Not happening.”

“Then I ain’t movin’.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Fine. I’ll just text Roy then.”

Jamie immediately sat up. “Fuckin’ hell, woman. You’re ruthless.”

She smirked. “And yet, you’d die without me?”

Jamie stretched his arms over his head, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of his abs. He definitely did that on purpose.

“Yeah, well,” he said, giving her a slow, sleepy grin, “at least I’d die lookin’ at somethin’ pretty.”

She rolled her eyes again, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up her neck.

“You’re insufferable,” she muttered, standing up.

Jamie flopped back onto the bed, making a dramatic show of reaching for her. “Don’t leave me, love.”

She turned around in the doorway, shaking her head. “I’ll be back with coffee. Make some room in bed for me.”

Jamie sighed. “You’re an angel.”

“And you’re a pain in my ass.”

Jamie grinned. “You love it.”

She didn’t answer.

Because, unfortunately for her, he might actually be right.