#who knows maybe you’ll have more questions than answers

[dailycocotama]

Day 13: “Hello.”

[villainbait]

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Pairing: Sylus x MC / fem!reader Rating: PG-13 Tags: who did this to you, hurt, comfort, hurt/comfort, injury, implied violence, brief violence mentions, angst, canon sylus behavior, blood mentions, kissing if you squint Summary: You barely survived a night on your own in the N109 Zone without the watchful gaze of certain Onychinus leader, but at what cost? Word Count: 1.5k

The dull sound of your door closing was like the snap of a final curtain call falling into place and you slumped against it, relieved to be safely in your own apartment. You had survived a night in the N109 Zone on your own, but it had been a near miss. One you wouldn’t be repeating, especially since the intel you wanted had been a bust, anyway. 

You touched your side, your breathing uneven, and you wince. You definitely have a cracked rib. You try to take a deep breath and pain radiates from your chest into your stomach, making you a little nauseous. Okay, maybe two.

You were trying to psych yourself up to move and trudge into your apartment to give yourself much needed medical attention when the reverberating shock of someone's forceful knock bounced you against your door-frame. You consider not answering the insistent caller on the other side, but a muffled, familiar baritone floats through the door.

"Open the door, sweetie."

A sigh left your lips at the demand and you tried to stifle the pathetic, painful whimper that your exasperation cost you. Of all the people on the other side of that door, Sylus was the most unexpected. Or maybe not, considering he boasted that he knew everything that went on in his territory. Maybe that’s why he was here and if it was, he wouldn’t leave until his curiosity was satisfied.

The door cracks open and you stare up at him through the hole you made, reluctant to allow him entrance and to partially block his view of the damage those thugs had caused when they mugged you in the alleyway earlier tonight. However, Sylus’s easy smile is nowhere to be found and the frown lines on his forehead are the deepest you've ever seen them. His large hand wraps around the door-frame so you can’t close it again and he pushes gently against it, but you don’t budge. 

"Who did this to you?" His tone is dangerously low.

You ignore his question, instead poking your head out to look down the deserted hallway of your apartment building. "Why are you here? It's dangerous." It was risky for Sylus to wander around Linkon City normally, even if he claimed many people didn't know what he actually looked like. However, the Hunter’s Association did and your building was crawling with employees at all hours of the day and night.

"You didn't answer your phone, so I got worried."

Oh right, you had forgotten they had taken that too. You sighed again, the pain of having to replace everything beginning to give you a headache. That key charm Zayne had given you for your birthday was perhaps the worst thing to have lost, maybe more than the phone itself.

"Let me in, kitten." Sylus’s voice is gently cajoling and you concede because you're too tired to argue with him tonight. So you open the door and  try to act normal, but your voice is far too lighthearted for how heavy your legs feel as you trudge into the apartment. 

“You know, if you keep frowning like that you’ll get wrinkles and people really will think you’re an old man.” 

He follows you in with a small chuckle, his eyes bouncing around the room as if the perpetrators could be hiding in the shadows. When you grabbed the first aid kit and sat down to tend to your injuries, Sylus was suddenly there, kneeling in front of you. His hands push yours out of the way and he silently takes over the job of nurse, and you think about fighting him as you watch him roll up his shirtsleeves but realize you were just too exhausted to care. 

“What happened?” He asks eventually and you realize you will have to tell him something. Lying won’t work, he’ll find out if he didn’t already know. 

“What often happens when you end up in the wrong place at the wrong time in the N109 Zone, Sylus.” You offer with a single shrug, doing your best to sit still while he cleans the wound on your arm. “You know that better than me.” 

“Were you wearing–” he was referring to the brooch that signified your status as protected. 

“They took that too.” His hands stilled on the bandage he was applying on your forearm. “Did they, now?” he murmured silkily and you saw a muscle in his jaw tick, though his expression was partially obscured by his unruly hair. “After all that trouble I went through, too.” You tried to make a joke to ease the tension which earned you a soft amused twitch of Sylus’s lips. He was too angry to truly smile and you could feel it radiating off of him in waves. Despite that, his hands were painstakingly gentle as he touched what was clearly a blossoming bruise around your wrist. Sylus’s tender touch lingers on your injuries and he checks each one with a thoroughness that feels as if he’s memorizing exactly where you were hurt. 

He orders some of your favorite food, helps you get cleaned up, and tucks you into your bed. He points to the notepad you kept by your bedside table that you sometimes scribble notes on when you took calls. “Make me a list of what they looked like, and then go to bed. I’ll take care of the rest.” Before you could protest, he left the room abruptly. You picked up the notepad and stared at the print of the cute little animals dancing around the top. You’d bought it on a whim after seeing how cute it looked in a stationary shop window near one of your mission sites. It seemed too obscene to write what would virtually be a hit list on such charming paper. 

Instead, you scribble all of the reasons you’re grateful for today. Right at the top was that you had survived all on your own in the N109 Zone and you were able to see the infamous Onychinus leader kneeling at your feet. The list grew as you included the tasty food you ate earlier, and the glimpse of a suspiciously familiar crow you saw on your way into work this morning. The page was halfway filled when the pain medication Sylus had convinced you to take started to kick in and you felt your eyelids drooping. 

Drowsily, you snuggle down underneath your covers and clutch the plushie Sylus and you had won at the arcade last weekend. When you hear the distant muffled click of your door opening, you try to rouse yourself but you felt so warm and your body felt so heavy that you couldn’t manage it. That doesn’t stop you from trying until a large hand gently smoothed back your mussed hair, and the sensation of soft knuckles trace the curve of your cheek. “It’s just me,” the familiar voice murmured and you tried to speak but he shushed you. “Sleep, kitten.” 

You swear you felt the ghost of his lips on yours before he was gone, but maybe it was just part of the hazy dream you had of crows, violence, and enchanting sanguine eyes. 

Sylus returns to the N109 Zone and finds himself staring at the “list,” a bemused smile on his face. He shakes his head and tucks the cutesy page into his pocket. You were far too adorable and it made what he was about to do that much more satisfying, sauntering into the abandoned warehouse where your phone had last pinged; deceptively calm. The screams and stench of death shuddered throughout the N109 Zone tonight, serving as a violent and bloody reminder to all that no one should dare to touch what was his lest they face the consequences. 

Sometime in the early hours of the morning, your fingers fumble for your buzzing phone and land on the familiar outline of the brooch, both in their normal places as if yesterday was just a bad dream. Through your sleepy daze, you realize your other hand is occupied–as is your bed. Turning, you’re surprised to find Sylus is fast asleep next to you, his hand intertwined tightly with yours. There’s deep circles under his eyes, but his normally furrowed brow is smoothed out in sleep. With a sleepy smile, you curl back up to let him rest a little while longer, tucking your joined hands against your chest, cuddling his arm.

You both doze off together, and you’ve never felt so safe.

[fireinmoonshot]

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader (Twisters) Summary: You're a new addition to the Storm Par team and Tyler finds himself fascinated with you from the very beginning.

It’s been a long and stressful day, so you assume that the group of tornado wranglers hanging about the large red truck by the stairs are feeling the same way as you – exhausted – and will let you head upstairs to get some much needed rest.

You are, however, incredibly wrong. 

“Hey, you’re the one with the Storm Par team, aren’t you?”

You force yourself to a stop on the first landing and turn to the group, all of their eyes staring up at you, and nod. “And you are the ones that make videos on Youtube.”

Boone, one of the only ones who’s names you’d gotten earlier today, laughs. “You say that like it’s a bad thing, but I’m taking it as a win since you know who we are, as well as the other million people who subscribe to us.”

It’s hard not to smile at least a little at his cockiness. If you had a million subscribers on Youtube, you’d probably also have let it go to your head a little. 

You try and excuse yourself from the conversation then, assuming it’s over, and take a step towards the stairs, but yet again – you’re wrong. This time, it’s the tall, gorgeous blond man that speaks. Tyler Owens.

“I don’t think she’s subscribed to us, Boone.”

You can’t help it. You bite. “What makes you say that, Owens?”

He grins up at you from his spot on the back of the truck. “Am I wrong?” 

“That’s not an answer.”

The others in the group laugh and whoop, obviously enjoying the back and forward between the two of you. You assume that it’s rare for Tyler Owens to get that from anyone, let alone a fellow storm chaser that he’s never met before in his life. 

Tyler looks at you for a few moments without saying anything and you take that as your cue to leave, stifling a yawn as you turn away and head up the staircase. You can hear the others chattering back at the truck as you reach the top of the staircase and move to find your room, desperate for a warm shower and a comfortable bed. 

You’re so stuck in your own thoughts that you don’t hear someone bounding up the stairs behind you. 

“Hey, Storm Par,” Tyler Owens’ voice surprises you.

You look up from the key in your hand, having been checking your room number, and meet his eyes. “Were you that desperate for an answer on whether I’m subscribed to your Youtube channel that you had to follow me up here?”

Tyler chuckles to himself. “No, surprisingly not. Just figured I’d come and ask you how you’re doing and didn’t think you’d want an audience for that question.”

You’re a little surprised by his kind nature. Judging by what you’d seen of him so far, he was more of an act first, think later kind of person. And maybe he still was since he’d run after you so fast. 

“How I’m doing? I met you twelve hours ago.”

He flashes a grin. “I can’t ask someone I met twelve hours ago how they are?”

“Well…” You hesitate, a little lost for words. “I’m fine, just tired. I haven’t done this storm chasing thing in a couple of years and it’s going to take a bit of getting used to, especially working with a team like Storm Par.”

You don’t owe Tyler an explanation about everything, not about why you haven’t done it in years, nor why you’re a bit apprehensive about the Storm Par team. But you figure, since he’d been so kind to follow you up here to check in on you, a small explanation is the least you can offer him in return for his kindness.

Tyler nods. “Listen, I know my team can be a little much sometimes – in a good way, don’t get me wrong – but if you’re ever after a bit more fun than the suits and PhD’s of Storm Par, I’m sure we can squeeze you in.”

You snort. “They do not wear suits while storm chasing.”

“How do you know? You’ve only been here for twelve hours, Storm Par.”

Tyler smirks as you narrow your eyes at him. “Not my name, Owens.”

“Go and get some rest, you’ll need it for tomorrow.” He can see that you’re exhausted, and even though you’re happily playing along with him, he’s not the type to push it too far. Especially when it comes to you, apparently. “I’ll make sure no one disturbs you.”

“You gonna set up camp outside my room?”

“No, not for someone I’ve only known for twelve hours. But I will guard the stairs incase Javi or Scott come looking for you,” he smiles, amusement in his every word. “Go on.”

You listen to him, eyeing him carefully one last time before turning and heading towards your room, which you think is at the end of the corridor. Just as you’re putting your key in the lock, you hear him yell out behind you.

“If you can’t sleep, you can always look up Tornado Wranglers on Youtube!” 

[chastiefoul]

0:56 a.m. | nanami kento

0.6k words

“kento,” you whispered into the silence of the night and the dimmed lights on your room. It’s been way past midnight and you hadn’t been able to sleep, contrary to your boyfriend who’s lying beside you—his breath steady and calm.

when your voice didn’t budge him out of his slumber you tried once more.

“kento.” this time a little louder.

he then muttered an inaudible word, still closing his eyes. his hand wandered though, tightening his hold around the back of your shoulder; bringing you close to his chest. better, but the gesture was not enough for you who’s not feeling even a little sleepy, as mischief ideas filled your head.

third time’s a charm, they said. so you called him once more.

this time it finally did something as he hummed a reply, his free hand rubbed your side in a calming pattern, his hand went underneath your shirt that’s all rode up. he settled his grip just an inch under your chest, his thumb slowly moved up and down. “that tickles,” you said as you put a hand over his, refraining his little movement. Although, you’re sure he could hear the smile on your voice.

he finally opened his eyes as he gave you a lazy little smile and you swore you didn’t remember seeing anything more gorgeous than that. “why aren’t you asleep, hm?” his voice a tone heavier than usual, a tad husky as it laced deep with sleep. “i can’t sleep,” you whispered, like telling a secret to your best friends in a slumber party. “right. so i don’t get to either, yeah?” he replied, a smile on his face; and it’s only fondness shine across his feature.

“i mean, i understand if the old man needs his sleep even though tomorrow’s weekend. so by all means,” you said playfully, and that earned a deep chuckle from him. “don’t tease, who said we should have an early night today?” he raised an eyebrow, and for such a calm sleeper he now couldn’t stop his wandering hand as he’s diligent on giving you back-scratches—not that you’re complaining. “yes, but that was before my confidence in being able to fall asleep crumbled right before my eyes,” you claimed, feigning a serious tone. “i see, my mistake.” his eyes narrowed affectionately and you had a feeling you could say the dumbest excuse and he’d let you get away with anything.

you felt the need to sit up and do something but before you could even do that he held you down gently. “none of that, you’ll feel even more restless, love.” you couldn’t even protest at that since you knew he’s always right. “then what do you suggest we do now?”

“it’s a we problem now, hm?” he stared at you in amusement, knowing who dragged him into the sleepless night as well was none other than you. “is that a complaint i hear?” you threw him a questioning look. “it’s excitement, of course.” he laughed softly as he stroke your hair ever-so-gently.

“i should just start rambling maybe it’ll get me tired,” you said randomly and he just nodded without offering any question. “sure, i’m listening.” his hand didn’t stop moving. “where should i start?” you asked, relying on his answer. And of course it came easy for the man who seemed like he knew all the right words. “start anywhere, love. you could repeat anything, skipped over some words, or even tell it backwards and i’ll be here to point it out,” he said lovingly.

and you don’t know if it’s just his power you didn’t know about but it’s not even ten minutes after you started talking and as he kept doing the little gesture you could feel the sleepiness coming, welcoming you to one of your best slumber in a while.

--

idk how it took me this long to write this man. i love him so much.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄

Toji Fushiguro

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x babysitter!f!Reader

Summary: After not hearing from Toji for some time, he requests your services again. Too bad you now have a boyfriend...

Warnings: MDNI, babysitter!Reader, Smut, Cheating, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex (f. Receiving), Age Gap (Reader in 20s, Toji in 30s), Reader's Parents and Toji are friends, Cute baby Megumi is adorable, Reader literally cheats while her boyfriend is on FaceTime

10k Event Masterlist

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

*practically a continuation of babysitting service but you don't have to read the first part to read this gsohgsoh

After babysitting for your parents’ friend, Toji, you leave for college again. You forget about your hookup just as fast as it happened, since you don’t really see Toji. You’re barely in town, and when you are, you don’t see him. He doesn’t call for your services again, which disappoints you momentarily, until you meet someone new. 

This man isn’t just a hookup though. You spend almost every possible minute with each other and you go on dates. You’re happy with him, you swear he’s the man that you’ll marry. But sometimes you have to spend time away from each other so you don’t get sick of each other. 

So once a month you go back home alone for the weekend since your university isn’t too far away. You usually lounge around in your home and be absolutely lazy. It’s a well earned break after studying so much– But this weekend your parents tell you that someone needs you to babysit. You pray that it’s some new neighbors or a friend that you’ve never met before since you doubt that you can handle seeing Toji again. 

He creeps up in your mind sometimes, especially when you’re aroused. You hate how he comes into your mind when you’re having sex with your boyfriend. That’s the only time Toji comes into your mind. His touch still lingers on your skin even after so long. You’re convinced that Toji is just a hookup that you’ll never be able to forget, and you’ll compare every guy that you come across with him.

You’re disappointed when they mention Toji, and they can see the disappointment on your face, making them question why. Is Megumi a misbehaved kid or something? They’re taken back when you tell them quite the opposite, Megumi is great. You assure them that you’re fine, and you’re excited to take care of Megumi again.

When you get to his home, he’s ready to go on a date. He trusts you enough to know what to do since this isn’t your first time taking care of Megumi; maybe you feel a twinge of jealousy, and you feel unappreciated when the man doesn’t bother to look you up and down after you put on a special outfit simply for his admiration. 

But you move on past it. You don’t spend more than five minutes with him before he’s gone, leaving you alone with Megumi. You put on a jacket to hide the rather revealing outfit choice for the night, and you focus your attention on the boy who wants to play some board games with you.

“Daddy sucks. He never wants to play.” Megumi shares when you set up the game. Megumi has no one else in the house, and the boy can’t teach the dogs how to play a board game. It’s not as fun since there’s only two of you, and he barely comprehends the game, but you enjoy yourself regardless. 

You’re focused on the game so much that you don’t hear the front door open, and you’re startled when you catch a glimpse of Toji. You put your hand over your heart that beats at a rapid pace. You can’t help but ask, “Why are you here so early?”

“I forgot something.” Toji answers, and he’s about to head upstairs but his feet stop. He has the urge to go to the table and join you two, which is what he ends up doing. It’s sweet, and it brings a smile to your lips. Luckily, you’re not too into the game so he’s able to join without a problem.

His phone begins to ring, but he ignores it. He has bigger matters to attend to, like showing you two how he’s much better at the game. You have a feeling that it’s his date, and you feel bad for her for a moment. It doesn’t take too long for you to forget about her and focus on Toji and Megumi.

“Let’s order some food. What do you two want?” Toji offers, and Megumi shouts out what he wants for dinner, which makes you agree since you have no preference for anything at the moment. You continue playing until the food gets there.

You try to leave after eating since your service is clearly no longer needed, but Megumi asks you to watch a movie and you can’t refuse. His adorable little face doesn’t let you, so you stay to watch the movie until he falls asleep. Toji takes him to his room, and you pause the movie.

You doubt he wants you to stay considering the only reason you were here was to take care of Megumi– But he would’ve asked you to leave the moment he decided he wanted to play with his son. You grab your phone from your purse and look through it while you wait for Toji to come back. Toji holds a stack of cash when he walks back to the couch and he asks, “How much for tonight?” 

“Hmm… I guess tonight is free since you did stay. It was easy.” You answer as you stand up from the couch. You sweetly smile at him, and you begin to walk towards the door. When you walk past him, his hand goes to your arm which forces you to stop. Your sweet smile turns to a smirk, and you try to disguise it.

“You’re not done here.” He says, and you try to act innocent.

“How so, Mr. Fushiguro? Megumi is asleep.” You respond. You bite down your lip as you try to read the look on his face. His hand goes to the zipper of the jacket that is far too big for you, and he pulls it down to show your rather revealing outfit.

“You know damn well.” He finally acknowledges the outfit that you put on for him, and you purse your lips together. It was only for teasing purposes, that’s what you remember. It’s the first time that you’re sad because you have a boyfriend, one that you adore more than anyone.

“I have a boyfriend, Mr. Fushiguro. If I’m right, what you’re implying is inappropriate.” You share, and you watch as the man furrows his eyebrows. A boyfriend has never stopped Toji before, and this won’t be a first. 

“We can just make out a bit, nothing crazy.” Toji responds, and you tilt your head to the side. Toji raises his brow, “What? It’s just some kissing, does he think that’s cheating? Or would he be scared that I can do it better than him?”

You bite your tongue as you look Toji up and down. It is cheating. But maybe you’ll listen to him because your body begins to remember his every touch and you’re turning into putty at the mere thought of him touching you again. But you fight back the obscene thoughts that run through your head. 

“It’s wrong, and it’d break his heart.” You say. A sly smirk comes to his lips.

“It wouldn’t break his heart if you don’t tell. How is he going to know? I’m not going to tell.” Toji tells you, taking two steps toward you before he looks down at you. He licks his lips before speaking lowly, “Just some kissing between two friends, a secret within us.”

“Are we friends though?” You ask, and he nods in response. His hands go down to your waist, and you know that with him it won’t stop just with kissing. He wouldn’t want to just kiss. “Can you stop at kissing?”

“Yeah.” He responds, and his lips go down to meet yours. You’re hesitant before kissing him back, but you give in. Your tongue enters his mouth and presses against his. Toji picks you up as the kiss deepens, and he carries you to the couch. He lays down on the couch and you lay on top of him, knee on either side of him. He doesn’t stop at mere kissing as his hands roam through your body, his hands squeezing your tits before they go under your skirt. He doesn’t really touch your pussy, just playing with the waistband of your panties. 

You both hear a phone ring, but you ignore it as his tongue wanders around your mouth. The sound fades away, and Toji’s fingers begin to rub your clothed cunt. The last thought in your mind is your boyfriend, you’re about to let this happen again without a single problem.

The second time the phone rings, it irks Toji. It’s not his phone since he turned it off. He pulls away and orders, “Check who it is. They’re annoying.”

You do as he says, grabbing your phone and checking who’s calling. Guilt rushes through your body as you see the incoming facetime call from your boyfriend. You get completely off Toji and go to the armchair that’s in the living room, fixing yourself up before answering the call.

“Hey babe…” You try to be cheerful, putting a fake smile on your face. Toji clicks his tongue, and you pray that he doesn’t make his presence known. You watch through your peripheral vision as he gets off the couch and gets in front of you on his knees. “Sorry for not answering, I fell asleep. Waiting for this kid’s dad to get home.”

Toji smiles as your boyfriend assures you that it’s fine. Toji spreads your legs, pushing your panties to the side. You’re so close to hanging up the phone and asking Toji what the hell he’s doing since this is a bit more than just kissing– But he begins to kiss your cunt, and you never really specified. You’re not complaining.

His tongue licks up your folds, and you bite down on your lip for a moment. You try to continue having a normal conversation with your boyfriend, telling him about your weekend so far. Toji’s tongue begins to flick your clit.

Two of Toji’s fingers run through your folds, getting them wet with your slick before he pushes them in. His fingers are so thick and long, it causes a soft moan to leave your lips, and your boyfriend asks, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah…” You respond. You look down at Toji for a moment, and you see his mischievousness reflect in his eyes. He’s enjoying this. He loves hearing your boyfriend as he tastes you on his tongue. “How are you doing though? T-Tell me about your day.”

Toji’s mouth detaches, saliva connecting his tongue to your cunt. His thumb takes the place of his tongue. You have to bite down your lip to not moan as he makes you feel so good. Toji smirks before commenting, “You taste so good.”

“What was that?” Your boyfriend asks, and you could kill Toji. 

“What was what?” You act confused, and you play it well enough for him to drop it. Toji tries not to chuckle as his mouth attaches to your clit again. Your hand goes to his hair and you push his head.

Toji makes it his mission to moan against your cunt, wanting your boyfriend to hear. You can’t risk it anymore, you have to smile, and you tell your boyfriend, “I have to go, babe. Megumi woke up.”

You hang up the phone before he can say anything and toss it to the side. You glare at Toji’s hair while his mouth works wonders, and his fingers hit every right spot in your cunt, “You’re a piece of shit.”

He can’t say anything, he can only hum on your cunt. He knows he’s a jerk, but that doesn’t stop you from moaning as he eats you out. You throw your head back as you feel pressure build up in your lower abdomen. 

“Fuck– Toji.” You finally moan his name, and for once in his life he feels jealous that he doesn’t get to hear that every night. Your boyfriend lucked out– Even when you’re here cheating on him. Sure, Toji initiated it physically but you chose your outfit for a fucking reason. 

“Shit, shit, shit! I’m gonna come.” You announce, your hand gripping the armchair. You see white as you reach your climax, and Toji moves his fingers in and out of you a couple of times before taking them out. His tongue keeps flicking your clit since he just can’t get enough of your taste on his tongue. 

You have to pull him away from your overly sensitive clit, and Toji swears he could die a happy man. You come off your high and you frown, warning him,

“If you caused too much trouble, you’re going to be sorry.”

Toji has never wanted to be sorry in his life before, except now. You hate the smug look on his face, and you click your tongue, “You’re a fucking jerk.”

[cloudwisp]

𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 · 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐮𝐬

contents: fluff. satoru makes sweet promises about the future with you. 800 wc.

“What would you say if I retired today?”

The words left his mouth so easily—like they’re one of the many frivolous musings that comes and goes, an afterthought when the shared laughter and playful teasing had died down a bit. Behind his loose grin, Satoru carefully studies your face as he weighs the question in your mind, as though they bear no consequence and he wants to hear your answer no matter how serious or unserious he’s being.

“Retire…” You drawl thoughtfully, “You mean put your sorcerer work behind you?” You more than readily welcome the idea than you let on, it’s all you can think about sometimes and keeps you awake at night. You knew about the dangers and the shortcomings that his lifestyle posed, but your love for him outweighs the troubles and the fears and the risks that come with loving someone like him—that is Satoru Gojo.

Not the Strongest Sorcerer, the leader of something, just a normal person who has a fondness for the sweeter things and never lets good humor go to waste if he could help it. If he truly decided to retire from now onwards he won’t have to participate in another dangerous mission again, no more of those dreadful overseas assignments that keeps you both apart for long stretches of time, and you could get used to knowing that he gets to come home to you every night.

“Well, okay. I suppose I could become the breadwinner for once.”

Satoru lets out a pleased laugh. His arm that encircled your waist tightens as he squeezes you with great affection, receiving a small oof from you and quick gentle pats of surrender before he crushes your lungs. He’s sitting on an abundance of wealth for the both of you to lead a comfortable life, and you’re cute for worrying about finances in the foreseeable future. Maybe he doesn’t spoil his precious sweetheart far enough, he thinks.

“I guess you’ll need to work triple time in order to afford my expensive taste.” He teases, pinching your cheek between his fingers. “We can be a dynamic duo. You can work while I stay home.” He mutters softly, letting his hand settle against the nape of your neck while his thumb brushes against your cheek. “Would I be a good househusband?”

“You’d be awful.” You were a little quick to say, almost shuddering at the thought. He feigns a hurt expression with the slightest furrow to his brows and an adorable pout lines his lips. He had an affinity for sweets as shown in your fully stocked pantry but navigating the rest of the kitchen would cause quite an upheaval despite his best efforts. “Maybe at first anyway.”

“You think I won’t be able to clean or cook properly?” Satoru complains dramatically, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and shoulder. You attempt to push him away between your giggles as the ends of his hair tickles you and he gently nips away at your skin, but his large build unsurprisingly wouldn’t budge. He lays a light kiss here and there shortly after, his voice lowering into a playful whisper. “Giving up on me already, huh? Too bad, that was your only chance of seeing me in an apron~”

Satoru comes up to meet your gaze and he catches your lips for a sweet taste, the warmth of his body sinking into yours and your arms wrap around him to bring him in a little deeper. “Are you saying I wouldn’t be able to control myself around you if I came home to you wearing an apron?” It was your turn to pinch his cheeks fondly and you consider something. “But it’s a nice thought—you wanting to lead a different life.”

“I want to make you a promise,” he begins slowly, and there’s a beautiful look behind his cerulean hues filled with just pure adoration and love that’s reserved only for you. “When my time comes and I’m ready to call it quits, I’ll retire with you by my side. We’ll move somewhere peaceful and quiet—as secluded as you like. We could even travel the world if that's what my baby wishes, just the two of us.”

“That’s a big promise you’re making me.” You raise an eyebrow at him. But you like the dream that he’s sharing with you, no matter how close or how far out of reach it may seem. And so, a warm smile softens your face. “Just me and you?”

“Yes, Angel.” He grins happily, pulling you closer so his heartbeat matches yours and the sound lulls into one under the moon’s gaze. As long as you keep giving him every excuse in the world to keep you within arms’ reach—forever, then it’s contentment and peace and everything else in between he’ll find with you. If you’re there, then that’s home for him. “Just us and the sky.”

꒰ note ᰔ still coping with everything that’s happened along with ch. 261 so hope you enjoyed this something silly and something fluff for our sweet loverboy satoru. ꒱

[rachalixie]

can’t get you off my mind

all good love stories start with a drunk stranger, don’t they?

warnings: mentions of alcohol, fem!reader

genre: fluff, comfort

word count: 4k

it starts at a bar. 

or really, it starts with a man at a bar. one that you’ve seen before in passing, a familiar face in a sea of more familiar faces. someone who you’ll later learn is one third of your best friend changbin’s production team, someone who you should have met years ago probably, someone who you would find is the perfect puzzle piece that fits into your jagged edges.

but right now, he is just a man at a bar with a beer in hand and a ridiculously dopey smile on his face. 

“marry me, please,” he says, absolutely serious but it’s a bit diluted from the way his words were slurred around the edges. “or i’ll have to kidnap you.”

“excuse me?” you raise a brow at him, his image swimming a bit as you turn your head to fully take him in. you’re not drunk, but youre a couple glasses of wine deep and you’re not known for being fully articulate whilst sober anyways. 

“i swear i’m going to marry you,” he says, eyes wide as he looks at you. “you might be the most perfect person i’ve ever seen.”

you’re not overly fond of men you haven’t met hitting on you, but this one seems a bit harmless. if you ignored the part where he said he would kidnap you. at least he wasn’t grabbing onto you or trying to touch you - that would have sent your fist flying towards his face and probably a swift exit from the bar. it was a little weird that you didn’t find him weird, but in retrospect you must have known, even then. 

“okay, listen,” you put your hands on your hips, giving him an unimpressed look. “if you find me when you’re sober, ask me again and maybe i’ll reconsider.”

“okay,” he nods, hair moving along with his movement like a puppy’s ears. “i can do that. i’ll find you, i promise. i’m gonna marry you, did you know?”

“so i’ve heard,” you roll your eyes, already feeling a bit fond about him. you didn’t think you’d meet him again, but you were sure that you’d look at this night with a fond smile later. 

he sends you the brightest smile you think you’ve ever seen on a person and scampers off, and you stand rooted to that one sticky spot in the bar for longer than you want to admit.

–

he’s in the back of your mind when you wake up the next morning, in a better mood than most - you never liked waking up early, it always took you a good hour and some coffee to be able to stand without grimacing. this morning though, you float around your apartment as you get dressed with a small smile on your face. 

a cute stranger who kept his boundaries and called you perfect? that wasn’t something that happened often, at least not to you. 

the floatiness followed you all the way through your morning routine until you found your feet stopping outside the coffee shop that you and changbin all but owned. you had no stock in it, but you’re sure that you supply them at least half of their revenue, you probably sit on their rickety chairs more often than your actual couch at home. this place has nursed you through every college class and job interview preparations and beyond, and if it ever closed you might lose time off of your life span. 

your movements from the door to the counter to your usual seat were robotic, muscle memory taking over while your head did somersaults through the clouds. it’s only when you take the first sip of coffee, the bitterness and heat hitting your tongue in a delightful dance, that you notice it. 

another man is sitting next to changbin. a man that looks awfully familiar, and it takes you a moment to realize why. it’s the man from the bar. 

“changbin?” you keep your eyes on the other man as you direct your question at changbin, trying hard to keep your face neutral. “explain?”

“i’m chan,” the man interjects before changbin can answer, reaching his hand across the table for you to shake. it’s warm, his grip somewhere perfectly in the middle of too hard and too soft, and he lets go after an appropriate amount of seconds. despite the neutral passivity of the gesture, you feel something ignite within you, and it threatens to sputter out when you catch no spark of recognition in his eyes. was he that drunk last night that he doesn’t remember you? do his sober eyes not find you as perfect?

“he crashed at my place last night,” changbin’s voice filters through your turmoil, and you finally break away from chan’s gaze to level him with a look. “and he needed coffee, so i brought him along. chan, this is y/n, my best friend.”

the conversation that followed flowed more freely than the coffee dripping from the machines behind the counter, and you almost hate how much you like it. chan is a little goofy, the man from the previous night shining through moments of seriousness and rapt attention. 

by the time you had to leave to go to work you felt like you knew him. you learned where he lived (close to you!), that he worked with changbin (he’s a producer!), and that he loved all animals but he adored dogs (he has one named berry!). just an hour of casual conversation had led to you needing more of him in every aspect of your life, but still in the back of your head lived the thought of him not remembering you from the night before.

changbin leaves first, citing some meeting he had to run to in the middle of a yawn, and when you were left with chan the embarrassment began to set in. 

“i’m going to marry you,” he blurts out, startling you so much you almost jump out of your seat. 

“what?” you ask, a mixture of surprise and disbelief combining into a confusing vortex within your head - was he going to go through this again? you didn’t know if your heart could take it. 

“i mean, i remember you,” he says before you could awkwardly excuse yourself and commit to getting to work early for the first time in a year just to escape being in a room alone with him for much longer. “i’m sorry, i was just embarrassed. i didn’t want to make a fool out of myself in front of changbin.”

“oh,” your breath leaves you all at once and you slump into your chair, understanding hitting you like a train. “that makes sense? i think?”

“i’m going to marry you,” he repeats, a mischievous glint in his eyes, the boy from last night shining through. “one day. i’m going to do it.”

“take me on a date first,” you tease back, a genuine smile stretching across your lips when he laughs, a full bodied thing that drew in eyes from the patrons across the room. for once, you didn’t seem to care that others’ eyes were on you. he made you feel comfortable. 

“what are you doing tomorrow?” his mouth turns upwards into a beautiful smile that you can’t help but return. 

“eager, are we?” you open your phone, sliding it across the table with the new contact page open on it. “i’m free.”

“you’re the most perfect person i’ve ever laid eyes on,” he says, as serious and genuine as the way he had proposed to you last night as he taps his number into your phone. “sorry if i’m a bit desperate.”

“don’t apologize,” you take your phone back, making a mental note to text him later. “i like it, for some unearthly reason. you’re cute, chan.”

the sound of his delighted laugh follows your footsteps all the way to work. 

— 

he picks you up for your first date at noon, right on the dot. he wasn’t a minute late, a polite knock sounding through your apartment just as the hour turned, as if he had been waiting and watching the time outside the door. 

god, is everything about this man endearing? 

he’s wearing shorts and a light sweater, looking like something out of a posh magazine. his hair is curly and swept off his forehead and he’s wearing a smile with the most adorable dimples shining through. 

he leads you to his car and you have to hold back an impressed whistle. you knew changbin and his team did well for themselves, the name 3racha all over the credits of songs on the radio, but this car was nice. you were going to have a talk with changbin about why he still drove the same beat up sedan he’s had since college but that was a thought for later. right now all you wanted to think about was the man who held the door open for you to slide into the passenger seat and was now holding your hand over the middle console. 

“do i get to know where we’re going?” you ask, peering at the map open on his phone but it tells you nothing more than that your destination was 15 minutes away and that he had to make a right turn in one mile. 

“it’s a surprise,” he says, voice a little nervous but it was masked with excitement. wherever he was taking you, you would be happy to be there if he was this happy the whole time. 

four songs on the radio later, one of which you teased him for when he revealed that he wrote it, he was pulling into a parking lot illuminated by flashing colorful lights. he had brought you to the fair. 

“i’ve never been to the fair!” you bounced a little in your seat, wriggling in excitement. “i’ve always wanted to go, how did you know?”

“lucky guess?” he shrugs, avoiding your gaze as he cuts the engine and unbuckles his seatbelt. 

“changbin told you, didn’t he,” you smile at the thought of chan asking his friend about what you’d like. it was cute, a word that you were probably exhausting when thinking about him even after a day of knowing him. 

“yes, but,” he flushes, the tips of his ears burning red. “i asked him after i had decided to come here, just to make sure it was a good idea. i didn’t steal it from him.”

“hey, it’s okay,” you squeeze his hand in yours that he had yet to let go of in what you hoped was a comforting gesture. you didn’t know what brought him calmness yet, but you wanted to learn. you wanted to learn everything about him. “now, take me to the fair, bang chan. i was promised a date.”

he finally meets your eyes again and he’s grinning so happily that you feel like you had just won a prize. who needed a fair when you had your very own carnival game right here? 

it turns out, you did. by the time the sun was beginning to set, your arms were full of various plushies that chan had won for you, each one earning him a hug and a kiss to his cheek. you treasured every single one, the fluttering in your chest when he stepped up to the booths to throw and shoot various things never ceasing. 

“let’s go to the ferris wheel,” you tug at him with your free hand, thanking the skies when you see no queue there. “i bet the sunset looks beautiful from the top.”

he’s quiet when he follows you there and into the carriage, his thigh pressing against yours as he slides in next to you, but you don’t notice in your excitement. it isn’t until the wheel ticks to the top and stops that he grabs your hand again, trembling a little. 

“chan? are you okay?” you ask, concern warping your voice as you turn towards him. your movement rocks the carriage a bit and he turns pale, ducking his head into your neck to hide. 

“yeah, ‘m okay,” he murmurs, his eyelashes ticking your skin when he blinks his eyes shut. “just don’t like heights very much.”

“oh my god, why didn’t you tell me?” you cry out, jumping a bit and regretting it when you rock the carriage again. “nevermind that, what can i do? it’ll go down soon, you’ll be alright.”

“just keep holding my hand?” he squeezes your fingers lightly and your heart melts. you may have made a joke that he was just trying to trick you into holding his hand any other time, but the fear in his shaking body was real and you’d never tease him for that. 

“of course,” you press a kiss to his hair, moving your other hand slowly to wrap around your intertwined fingers. the wheel begins to turn again, swaying the carriage as it descends. you keep your grip on his hand tight the entire time, all the way until you’re on your feet again on steady ground. 

“i’m so sorry,” you begin to say, the horror of subjecting him to his fear creeping up now that the crisis has passed. 

“i’m going to marry you,” he says, cutting off your apology and lifting your hands to his mouth so he could press a kiss to the back of yours. “no one’s ever been able to keep me that calm. thank you.”

you were left speechless after that and all you could do was smile at him, the ghost of it not leaving your face for the rest of the night. 

–

your thirty first date with chan ends with you crying into changbin’s arms, utterly confused and the feeling of despair creeping up your veins. you had met him your cafe as you had done several times since the fair, but when you arrived he wasn’t there. he came late, dark storms in his eyes and a hard set to his jaw and you didn’t understand what had made him like that. the usual smile and twinkle in his eyes were missing, and when you and asked him about what was wrong he had snapped at you in a way you hadn’t been talked to in years. 

you had left after that, brushing him off when his eyes had widened and he reached for you while calling out your name. you know that you should have given him a chance to explain, but at the time you were too hurt to consider it. 

you made your way to changbin’s apartment without thinking, your feet taking you to safety before your head could catch up. changbin had taken one look at your face before wrapping you up in his arm, walking you to his couch so he could cuddle you properly while words spilled out of you like a leaky faucet. you felt like you were back in college, crying and blubbering over a boy who had rejected you at a party, and you hated it. 

you didn’t notice changbin sending an angry text to chan, but the sound of changbin’s door opening with a bang startled you out of your tears. chan bursts in like a whirlwind, his hair sticking up at weird angles and a look of panic on his face as he takes you in. he reaches the couch in a few strides and falls to his knees in front of you, holding a crumpled bag from the cafe in his hand and taking your cheek gently into his other. his thumb wipes at the tear tracks there and you could practically taste the guilt emanating off of him. 

“love, i am so sorry,” he starts, ignoring changbin when he scoffs at the apology. “i shouldn’t have snapped at you, i had no right to do that. i got some bad news this morning and i wasn’t feeling my best, and i should have been honest with you. i’ll never do anything like that again, please forgive me? i’ll do anything.”

it was more his voice than his words that did it - he sounded so desperate, like he was trying to hold

onto a ledge that was crumbling, threatening to hurl his body into eternal nothingness. you knew him, you knew he was sorry, and against your first instinct you trusted him when he said he wouldn’t do it again. 

“is that an almond croissant?” you eye the bag in his hand. 

“it’s two almond croissants,” he nods fervently, his hair swishing back and forth with the movement. you sit up, sliding out of changbin’s arms and onto the floor in front of chan. chan’s arms replace changbin’s easily when you lean into him, and it feels like coming home. 

“it’s not like i have a nice couch you could be sitting on,” changbin mutters as he leaves, shaking his head fondly at the two of you before making himself scarce. 

chan kisses you, cradling your head gently into his hands, and they’re so warm. he slides his lips against yours, slowly like he’s taking his time memorizing the planes of your mouth to commit to memory. even after kissing him dozens of times you still find new things to learn about each other. 

“i swear,” he says, pulling away to meet your eyes. “i’m going to marry you, someday.”

“keep getting me croissants as apologies and we’ll see,” you say, sniffling into his neck. 

—

your eighty seventh date was spent in your bed, your head spinning like both hands on a clock simultaneously and your body exuding more sweat than you ever have. 

chan is wringing out a cool cloth to place on your forehead and it feels so nice that you moan. 

“i’m sorry,” you mutter, and chan has lost count of the amount of times you’ve said it at this point. “we had a date and i ruined it.”

“we were going to see a movie,” he says, running a hand up and down your spine. “and we will. we don’t need a movie theater when we have a screen right here, hmm?” 

���but the popcorn,” you complain, closing your eyes in bliss when he runs a hand through your hair, scratching gently at your scalp. an apology for being so sweaty was at the tip of your tongue but you hold it back in favor of enjoying the feeling of his touch. 

“i’ll make you all the popcorn you want when you’re feeling better,” he promises, dropping a kiss to the side of your head. “for now, how does soup sound?” 

“popcorn soup?“ you ask, a wave of dizziness taking over your body; if you weren’t lying down already, you’re sure that too would be falling over. 

“yeah, baby,” and even in your delirium the fondness in his voice was prominent. he couldn’t hide it even if he tried. “i’ll make you some popcorn soup. get some rest okay?”

you’re asleep before he leaves the room, and you only wake up when he shakes your shoulder a bit and helps you into an upright position. he feeds you bites of what is definitely not popcorn soup after putting a movie on your laptop, the screen sitting at the foot of your bed. the both of you fall asleep before the movie finishes, but you don’t mind. 

he stays with you for days, making you soup and tea and toast and feeding you medicine and being an all-around angel as he nurses you back to health. by the time you’re better you think you’ve fallen back in love with him several times. 

as you had expected and warned him about, he catches your sickness the next week, and now it’s your turn to be his nurse. you try and do the same job he did, but his delirium seems worse. the silver lining is that his fever isn’t as bad, so you’re babysitting a babbling boyfriend more than a sick one. 

the night before his fever breaks is the worst, since he doesn’t even recognize you. you shake your head at his silliness when he asks who you are and calls you pretty. you smile when he takes your hand in his and asks you to come closer. 

you tear up when he tells you that he has a girlfriend that he loves very much and so even though you’re pretty he can’t do anything else because his girlfriend is the prettiest one in the whole world. you let a tear slip when he tells you that he can’t wait to propose to his girlfriend and that he’s going to marry her someday. 

you tell him that you have a boyfriend that you're going to marry someday, trusting that he wouldn’t remember it in the morning. 

—

your hundredth and fifth date was not unlike your fifth, or your tenth, or your ninetieth. two and a half years later, you were just as endeared by him and he was just as obsessed with you - even more so, if it were possible. 

he takes the time to tell you how gorgeous you look when he picks you up just like he does on every date, and you hide your disgustingly fond smile for him behind his back like you do every time you see him. 

he parks and runs around the car to let you out like he does every time you habit this restaurant, a little fancier than your usual best but it was a favorite of the both of yours - across the street from the bar the two of you had met at. 

you start walking before he does, letting him jog to meet you and complain about how you left him, just like you do every time. before him. you might have thought the monotony would have gotten tiring, but he had a fantastical ability to make every moment feel like the first despite their practiced nature. 

he calls your name from behind you right on schedule and you hum in acknowledgement, turning towards him absentmindedly. the second you lay eyes on him you’re completely alert, though; he isn’t jogging after you, but rather he’s kneeling on the sidewalk, a small box in his hands as he smiles up at you. 

“i’ve told you that i’m going to marry you more times than i can count,” he starts, eyes shining like the stars twinkling in the night sky above you. “but this time i’m asking you.”

“chan,” you choke out, hands coming up to cover your mouth as it quivers. tears spring to your eyes and you silently curse yourself - you always thought you’d be level headed when you got proposed to, but nothing could have prepared you for this, not even the thousands of declarations he had made to you prior. 

“i love you. you’re the only one in the entire universe that i need more than blood or breath, you’re the song that runs through my heart and the fire that leads my path when i’m lost,” his voice is thick, like he’s trying to hold back his emotions long enough to get his words out. “i never thought that i would feel so strongly for someone, i never thought that i deserved a love like this until i met you.”

he pauses as you walk closer to him, letting you approach him before he continues. 

“my love, my eternal light,” he’s tearing up now, blinking fast to keep the salty water at bay. “will you marry me?”

“chan,” you start, kneeling down next to him and taking his wrists in your hands. “i never told you this, but ever since that first day i knew. i knew that the drunk idiot that was hitting on me would be my husband.”

he chuckles, smiling delightedly as the tears finally spring from both of your eyes in unison.

“so?” he trails off, searching your face with his eyes, waiting. 

“oh!” you tighten your grip on him in an apology. “of course i’ll marry you, gosh i love you so much.”

[act-nat-ural]

The training gym was quiet, save for the soft shuffle of weights being moved and the clink of metal on metal. Ushijima Wakatoshi, one of the top volleyball players in Japan, stood in his usual spot by the weights, focused and unbothered by the few people around. But today, his gaze kept drifting to the other side of the gym, where you sat, scribbling on your clipboard.

You were his team’s nutritionist, a dedicated professional who made sure each player was at their peak, fueled by carefully balanced diets and supplements. When you first joined the team, Ushijima saw you as just another staff member, albeit a knowledgeable one who knew her work. But as weeks turned into months, he found himself looking forward to your sessions, trying to pick up more conversations here and there. For a man who often kept to himself, that was something new.

“Ushijima,” your voice broke through his thoughts, and he quickly blinked, hoping his face didn’t betray the fact he’d been staring. You approached him, clipboard in hand, with that gentle smile you always wore.

“Your new meal plan,” you said, handing over the clipboard. He took it, careful not to brush your fingers, even though part of him almost wanted to. “I added more protein for recovery, but we’ll balance it out with lighter carbs on rest days to keep your energy consistent.”

He nodded, studying the paper in his hands. You were thorough, down to the gram. He admired that about you, the way you always seemed to care about every small detail.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice as steady as ever. Though he could command a volleyball court with his booming spikes, words like this made him feel less sure of himself. “You’re very…good at this.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by his comment. “I’d hope so. I spent years in school to do exactly this.”

He found himself mirroring your smile, however faintly, and his heart raced at the way your eyes lit up. The usual seriousness in him softened whenever you were around, a fact he hadn’t yet worked out how to handle. He thought about what his teammates would say if they knew the Ushijima Wakatoshi was nervous around someone.

“Do you have a favorite food?” he asked suddenly, the question slipping out before he had a chance to think.

Your eyes widened slightly. “Me? Oh, um… probably curry. Why?”

“I wanted to know,” he answered simply. “It’s… good to know what my nutritionist likes to eat.”

A laugh bubbled out of you, a soft sound that made him feel a strange warmth. “Well, thanks, I suppose. Maybe one day, you’ll let me cook for you.”

He blinked. “You would cook for me?”

“Why not? I mean, I’m already telling you what to eat,” you teased, giving his shoulder a playful nudge. “Might as well let you taste the real thing.”

He looked down at you, feeling his cheeks heat up slightly. “I… would like that.”

It was a simple answer, yet it felt like the beginning of something much more. He watched as you smiled, returning to your notes with that same focus, and he silently resolved to make that day come sooner than later.

As you walked away, Ushijima couldn’t help but think, for once, he had something more exciting than volleyball waiting for him.

[rothpie]

❝FIDELITY❞ |part3

MASTERLIST -`✮´- Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank

Summary: Kook!Reader’s world is upended by betrayal, and her only way forward might lie with the most unlikely person—JJ Maybank. But as they build a new life together, old flames and past mistakes refuse to stay buried.

Warnings: arguing, mentioning of using drugs and alcohol, mentioning abortion,

previous - next

It was harder than you'd thought. Rejection wasn’t something you’d faced often in life. You’d had flings, breakups, even heartbreaks, but nothing like this—nothing that tore you apart quite like this. You weren’t feeling the sting of a simple breakup; it was closer to betrayal. There was no cheating, no outright cruelty, but his words had cut so deeply, you would’ve chosen physical pain over this if you could.

You felt abandoned. It wasn't just a feeling; it was the reality now. But it wasn’t an ordinary sense of abandonment. This wasn’t a wound you could mend or a heartbreak you could simply heal from.

The regrets wouldn’t stop circling your mind. If only you’d been more careful. If only you’d taken the pill. If only we’d been more cautious from the start. If only you hadn’t told him.

If only you weren’t pregnant.

There weren’t many people you could turn to. Who could you trust with this? Who could be your confidant if not him? And if even he wouldn’t support you—your boyfriend, your best friend—then who would?

The regrets wouldn’t let you rest. You hadn’t even wanted this. You hadn’t considered the possibility, hadn’t imagined it. You’d dreamed about marrying him, maybe— just maybe, in some future vision of your life. You’d daydreamed about your future together on quiet nights, but that vision had never included getting pregnant at twenty.

So why was this happening to you? Why you? Why hadn’t you just taken the pill like you were supposed to? Why hadn’t you protected?

The questions were endless, and though they came from you, you already knew the answers. The truth was, you felt like a fool. Only a fool would forget to take her pills.

Even if you had been careful, you would’ve still needed to do more. And now, there was a child growing inside you.

You hated blaming yourself entirely, but you couldn’t help it. If you hadn’t taken your pill, he hadn’t used protection either. You were both at fault. If he could so easily shrug off responsibility, why should you be the one left to bear it?

Why did it have to be you carrying this?

Why was everything so difficult? The relationship had been good, and you loved him—even now, you still love him. So, why? Why couldn’t fate, life, or whatever this was, ever go your way?

You could’ve brushed this off as fate, but that would’ve been too easy. You knew the responsibility lay with you and him, both.

You should’ve known better. You knew right from wrong. It was a simple rule: if you can’t swim, you’ll drown. If you jump off a balcony, you’ll fall. If you play with fire, you’ll get burned. If you don’t use protection, you’ll get pregnant.

It was the same story. So why had you thrown yourself into the fire, knowing full well what could happen?

Each breath felt tighter. Every second, the ache in your chest seemed to grow, like it had taken up permanent residence there.

His words wouldn’t leave your mind. You didn’t even know if it was his words or his expression that hurt more. He hadn’t even responded. You understood he wasn’t ready to be a father. But you weren’t ready to be a mother either. So why were you the one left bearing the weight of this?

If you shared the blame, so did he. He hadn’t been thinking of fatherhood when he chose not to use protection, so why should you be the one now to face the consequences alone?

He should’ve been here for you. Despite everything, he should’ve been here, by your side.

You could get an abortion. You hadn’t decided yet. But shouldn’t he have supported you in that? It was his child too, wasn’t it? So why did you feel as though you were going through this alone?

He said he wanted you… How generous of him. Thank you so much.

He wanted you but not what you came with—not what was his too.

That was one of the hardest parts. You’d loved all of him. The good, the bad, the fights, the drinking, the highs and lows—you’d seen it all. And you’d never left— though maybe you should have.

You were pregnant. This was the child you’d created together. How could he leave you like this, knowing he was your whole world?

That was the truth. He was the one who made you feel human. You weren’t just a precious jewel in his eyes—or so you’d thought.

But at the first sign of trouble, he ran. He was a coward. Yes, a coward. There was no other word for it. He hadn’t become a man; he’d stayed a boy. And he was the reason your heart ached, the fire in your chest.

You couldn’t believe it. Would he really just leave? If you decided to have this child, would he really not be there? Would he really not want his own child?

And what would you tell the baby? What would you say to a child growing up without a father?

You’d picked up the mess. You’d put back the furniture Rafe had thrown around, cleaned everything up. It all felt worthless now, like it held no meaning. Your heart was already broken enough. Hours had passed, but you hadn’t left the couch. You’d sat there, facing your heartbreak, thinking, trying to decide—trying to act as if you were prepared to make such a choice.

You didn’t know if you wanted this or not. There were pros and cons, sure. But you couldn’t even think straight. Your mind kept drifting back to Rafe, to the look in his eyes as he spoke, to the way he’d hinted at an abortion, as if it were such a simple thing.

As if it were easy.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, in the darkest place you’d ever been. You didn’t know if you’d ever be able to pull yourself out of it. And you still had to tell two more people. Your parents.

You decided to end it today. You were exhausted and overwhelmed, but you wanted this off your chest. You couldn’t handle any more secrets, any more uncertainty. Whatever their reaction, you didn’t feel strong enough to care. You’d been hit once already; you could take a second blow and get it over with.

At least then, one more worry would be gone. Maybe the weight inside you would lift, even if only a little.

Even if it just made room for more sorrow.

It was fall, but despite the warm days, your body felt frozen. Your hands clenched tightly, fingers interlocked. In the middle of a sunny day, it was as if you were standing alone in a snowstorm. There was no one to save you, no one to listen.

Maybe you didn’t even deserve to be heard. You’d made a mistake. But did you really have to be the only one to carry the blame? Would Rafe even tell his family?

Of course not. He barely existed in his father’s eyes already. He could stay silent forever if it meant he wouldn’t fall even further in his father’s esteem.

Coward.

You were a coward too. But you didn’t want to be one anymore. You hated it, but you needed someone by your side. You needed someone to support you. You were alone.

When you heard the door open, your eyes shut instinctively. They were finally home. You’d say it quickly and be free. You didn’t want any more lies, any more secrets. Let them know, and let this be over.

You hated every second of it.

It felt like the world had slowed down. They called your name, walked over to you, asking if you were alright, and you grew weary of hearing it. Because you weren’t, and they could see it. Their daughter was breaking down in front of them, and maybe she needed to be.

Everything happened so quickly. They asked you a few questions, trying to get some answers. Your dad leaned in, tightly clasping your hands together—so tightly you hadn't even realized it.

Your mom stood a little behind him, watching you with anxious eyes. Her brows were raised, her tear-brimming eyes wide with shock. She knew you were going through something. Anyone would have noticed; they just hadn’t spoken to you about it. They’d only ever discussed it amongst themselves.

“Should we call 911?” your mom asked. Your eyes were on her. They probably still suspected you were using drugs. You weren’t sure how to say it, but this couldn’t stay inside you anymore. Whatever was eating you up had to come out.

“No, don’t be ridiculous,” your dad responded firmly. He hated hospitals, and the idea of his daughter going to one over an overdose scared him more. As he asked you a few more questions, his brow furrowed, and you took a deep breath.

You needed them to be here with you. You needed your family’s support. You prayed. You begged God to keep them by your side, to have them say, ‘We’re here for you.’ You needed someone at your back. Kids don’t fall when their father’s behind them. And so you prayed, without stopping.

As your eyes started to fill with tears, your dad’s stern expression softened. He said your name with such gentleness, trying to understand what was happening. He gently rubbed your palms as your chest heaved with deep, shaky breaths.

When tears started streaming down your face, you lowered your head involuntarily. The sound of your sobs became the only noise in the room, and your family stared at you in surprise.

‘Please,’ you thought. ‘Please be on my side.’

Your dad held your hands tightly, while your mom’s eyes began to fill with tears too. You hadn’t always been such a loving family. You’d barely managed to express your love to one another, but this had to be your chance. This had to be your chance to feel like a family again.

“I’m pregnant.” The words slipped out again, for the second time today, interrupted by your sobs. Your eyes shut, and tears rolled down your cheeks. You waited for their reaction, but there was only silence.

The room fell into an eerie stillness. Your mom’s eyes widened, and then a look of disbelief spread across her face before she let out a short, harsh laugh.

“Pregnant?” Her tone was mocking, her mouth twisting into a bitter smile. She turned away, took a deep breath, and reached for the clip in her hair, letting it fall loose. Her head was already beginning to ache. “Please tell me this is some kind of sick joke.”

When you finally opened your eyes, you felt your dad’s hands slip away from yours. Your hands trembled, and you felt that same sinking feeling—that you’d lost something. You were losing the other most important people in your life.

Shaking your head, you denied that it was a joke. Pulling your legs up onto the couch, you hugged your knees tightly, took a deep breath, and used your hands to wipe the tears from your cheeks. When you looked up, you met your father’s disbelieving eyes as he quickly stood, took a few steps back, and turned his back to you, as though he couldn’t bear to look.

He didn’t turn back. He didn’t speak. Your mom’s angry chuckles filled the room. She couldn’t believe it. How could her daughter be this reckless?

Finally, your dad turned to you and leaned forward, his expression hard and resolute. “How could you be so careless?” he demanded, his tone sharp with disappointment that made you wince. “What were you thinking!”

His raised voice made you close your eyes. Hugging your knees even tighter, you buried your face in them. Stupid. That’s what you were.

Couldn’t they just be there for you? This hurt so much.

Your mom shook her head in disbelief, still mocking. She’d always tried to look out for you, but you’d found a way to mess things up again… She just couldn’t believe it. “Honestly, what did you expect would happen? This isn’t some minor mistake. This… this changes everything. How could you be so thoughtless?”

Her voice wasn’t just filled with horror—it was laced with bewilderment too. With all the options for protection out there, how could you let this happen? Hadn’t you thought at all about yourself, about your future?

Your cheeks flushed as you struggled to pull yourself together. What could you even say? No matter what, you were wrong, and stupid. “I didn’t plan this,” you whispered, barely audible. You were terrified, but you couldn’t show it. You were so afraid you were shaking, feeling like if you tried to stand, you’d collapse. “And I don’t even know what I’m going to do. I haven’t decided yet…”

Your mom’s eyes widened in a mix of horror and disgust. She couldn’t believe her daughter had done something like this. Sex was one thing. She’d done it herself in her youth, but getting pregnant? At your age? You hadn’t even decided what to do with your future, whether to go to college, whether to take over the family business… and now you were pregnant? Already? “You don’t know? You don’t know!” she repeated, her voice rising. “How can you not know? This is serious! You can’t just get pregnant and then—and then not have a plan. What were you thinking?”

Tears kept rolling down your face, but you held on tightly, determined not to crumble under her harsh gaze. You lifted a hand to your mouth, and once you managed to gather yourself and take a deep breath, you spoke again. “I’m trying to figure things out. I… I don’t know if I’m ready— Mom—please…”

You just needed her to be there. Just her, no one else. That would be enough. With her and your dad by your side, you felt like you could handle anything. You were an adult now, but in your heart, you still longed to be a child again, to be held, to have your head stroked for hours as they told you it would all be okay. 

You’d settle for even one hug.

All you needed was for her to be there. Just them, no one else. That would be enough. You felt that you could face anything with their support. You knew she didn’t see you as a five-year-old girl anymore. You were an adult, but you needed them to hold you, to stroke your head for hours and tell you everything would be okay. Even one hug would have been enough.

Your father’s lips tightened into a thin line, his voice cold and full of disappointment. He looked angry, his face flushed red as he took deep breaths. Rolling up his sleeves as if to calm himself down, he finally spoke. "So what’s the plan? Just toying with the idea of motherhood to see if it suits you? This is real life. You can’t just keep making stupid decisions and expect us to pick up the pieces.”

Your mother’s eyes gleamed with sharp disappointment. She’d expected better from you. She would have even accepted you saying that you wanted to become a tattoo artist, but you had already done the worst thing you could to yourself. She was already afraid to ask if the father would even be in the picture. "You should have thought about this before. And now you’re dragging us into this—what do you expect? That we’ll support you in a decision you haven’t even made yet?"

You couldn’t say a word. You had truly expected that. You had wanted them to be by your side. You had prayed for it, but it hadn’t come to pass. This was the second blow you’d taken in a single day. Who knew how much more you could endure. When your hand went to your stomach, the tears in your eyes blurred your vision as your lids shut tight.

The fact that there was a baby inside you had already caused an explosion in your life. The people you had were no longer beside you—they stood across from you. They weren’t supporting you; they were opposing you.

Your mother took a deep breath, turned around, and pulled out her phone from her bag. “You’re getting an abortion,” she said without even looking at you. When you quickly turned to face her, she didn’t meet your gaze. Your father sat in an armchair, rubbing his temple. Neither of them looked at you. “I’ll change countries if I have to! I’ll even change your citizenship if necessary, but you’re getting an abortion!” Her voice was harsh, almost too rapid to understand.

That decision should have been yours. You should have been the one to make it. You didn’t want to be forced into it because someone else told you to—you wanted to do it because you wanted it. It had to be your choice. “No—”

“I didn’t raise you to be like this!” The moment you started speaking, she raised her head from her phone and yelled. The skin under her eyes was red, her hair disheveled. She didn’t look well. She seemed out of it. She threw her phone onto the couch beside her, thumping her chest with her hand. “I—” Her eyes filled with tears. You were the one who had brought her to this state.

“This is reckless! Beyond disappointing! What are you going to do? Stay home forever and take care of a child? And what—have four or five more? What’s going to happen to your future? You may think of… of keeping that thing, but I also have to think of my own daughter!” She pushed her hair back as she sat down, her eyes fixed on the floor as she tried to catch her breath.

“What about the father—” his voice was harsh, as if he were struggling to contain herself. He already knew it was Rafe. He just didn’t want to say his name, especially since he hadn’t been by your side as you told your family. “What does that son of a bitch think about this?” Her eyes turned to you.

You couldn’t answer. Your lips started to tremble even more as you looked away. Your father, as if he could read your mind, seemed to understand. His eyes narrowed, and he let out a bitter laugh.

“Of course,” he said. If he could have, he looked like he’d choke Rafe with his bare hands. He was probably forcing himself not to head over to Tannyhill right now.

"I can’t believe it… I really can’t. I didn’t raise you like this! Do you understand? I didn’t raise you—" You couldn’t take it anymore. Everything was crashing down on you. Why couldn’t they just hold you close and tell you it would be okay? You just wanted to feel safe, to have them tell you it would all pass. But the words hurt, and you wiped the tears from your cheeks, interrupting him.

You tried to swallow the pain, but the sting of rejection lodged itself deep in your chest. “I’m not perfect!” you shouted, your voice shaking. You couldn’t hold it back anymore. Sitting up straighter, you looked at him. "And maybe I don’t know what I want yet. But that doesn’t give you the right to make me feel worthless."

Your mom’s expression softened slightly, though a cold edge still lingered in her gaze. “We’re not saying you’re worthless. This isn’t a fairy tale with a happy ending where everything magically works out. You have no idea what you’re doing.” She took another deep breath, reaching for her phone again. “You’re getting an abortion, and—” Her words hung in the air as an overwhelming numbness washed over you, pressing down until you could barely breathe. A weight settled on your chest, filling every part of your mind with a relentless sense of shame.

“This is my life! Whatever I want— that’s what will happen! It’s my choice!” The room seemed to close in on you, the walls pressing closer, each word echoing mockingly in your mind. Every bit of support or warmth you’d hoped to feel dissolved, replaced by the harsh realization that you were utterly alone in this.

“Are you stupid? What are you going to do with a baby that has no father? You’re twenty!” You hadn’t even said you were keeping it. All you wanted was time. You just wanted to choose for yourself. Your hands started to shake, and you didn’t even notice when your nails dug into your palms. You’d braced yourself for disappointment, but nothing could have prepared you for the cold, piercing rejection you were facing. The air felt thick, heavy, saturated with the lost hopes you could almost feel slipping through your fingers. Each word felt like a blow, sinking deeper until all you felt was a dull, aching emptiness.

“A baby at twenty is disgraceful! People will talk behind your back! They’ll judge you! Do you really want to—"

You couldn’t listen anymore. You just couldn’t. You’d braced yourself for anything, but you hadn’t known it would feel like this. You just wanted to leave, and so you did. Standing up, you headed for the door without looking back. You heard your mother and father’s voices, but you didn’t turn. The sun was still shining outside.

You’d heard every word you were going to hear. They didn’t want it. Your mom didn’t want it. Your dad didn’t want it. Rafe didn’t want it. End of the story. You wouldn’t listen anymore.

But what about you? Everyone had said everything they wanted, but what did you want? What would make you happy?

You walked, breathing in the fresh air without knowing where you were going. Your tears had dried on your cheeks; there wasn’t a single drop left in you. You looked around, listened to the birds. Your feet carried you forward, without thought or direction.

You should be the one making decisions about your life. So why did everyone in it feel entitled to take over? It was your body, and only yours. You weren’t sharing it with Rafe, or your parents. The choice was yours to make.

Couldn’t they just listen to you, for once? They’d assumed you wanted this baby— all you wanted was time.

When you reached the beach, you slipped off your shoes without a second thought, walking barefoot in the sand. You sat down in the first spot that felt right, letting yourself just feel. You soaked in the sound of the waves, the warmth of the sun on your skin, the slight chill of the breeze— basking in that pleasant mixture of coolness and warmth.

You just wanted to be alone. All the hits you’d taken today weighed heavily on you. You just wanted to hear yourself think, for once. Not in a dark room, but with the sun on your skin. Not in silence, but with every sound around you. The sea, the birds, the children’s laughter… you wanted it all. You wanted to be greedy.

“Sunbathing?” At the sound of the voice, you opened your eyes and looked up quickly. Blond hair dripping wet, water streaming down his whole body— JJ. Of course he’d show up right in this vulnerable moment, right?

He walked toward you but stopped just short, as if maintaining some distance. His eyes gleamed with that familiar mischief, and he lifted his hands as if to keep you at arm’s length. “You’re not, like, covid positive or anything, are you?” The same old joke, asked again weeks later, completely shattering any peace you’d started to feel.

You rolled your eyes and got up to leave, and he fell into step behind you immediately. “Okay, okay, okay! I’ll shut up.” When he reached out and lightly grabbed your arm, you flinched from the coldness of his hand. You turned to face him, catching the grin on his face as he pushed his hair back.

A quiet pause fell between you as you glanced toward the ocean. He must’ve been out surfing. The sun was nearly setting, and the water was getting rougher. But you could feel his eyes on you, never wavering for a second. “Do you always cry this much?” he asked bluntly, and your eyes closed in frustration. Only JJ would ask something so stupid questions.

What did he expect you to say? Yes, JJ, I cry all the time?

JJ watched the scenery with raised eyebrows, looking amused. Whether you’d answer him or not didn’t seem to matter to him. He enjoyed getting under your skin. After all, you were a Kook. It wasn’t every day he got to see a Kook in tears. 

"Yeah," you finally said. The word slipped out with a touch of sarcasm. Turning to leave him behind, you added, “Another story you can go tell your friends and laugh about.” Let them make fun all they wanted. You weren’t going to let this get to you. Somehow, you’d get through it, and you’d never give this fool the satisfaction of seeing you so vulnerable again. But the thought of him sharing your moment of pain with his dumb friends… it stung more than you wanted to admit—

“I didn’t tell them.” His words stopped every thought in its tracks. Didn’t tell them?

He’d seen you crying, and— he hadn’t said a word? Those idiot pogues— everyone but him— they didn’t know, then…

“I mean…” he said, and you saw his shadow as he approached from behind. Slowly, you turned to him, noticing his usual smirk softened by something almost resembling sympathy. Maybe, if you didn’t know who he was, you’d believe him. “Your covid test.” He had crossed his arms, glancing around and lowering his voice as if taking precautions to make sure no one else heard.

And the fact that he kept calling it "covid"— what was he doing?

What was even going on?

“Positive or negative?” You couldn’t tell if he was asking out of curiosity, genuine concern, or a bit of both. How many more times today would you have to say, 'I’m pregnant'?

You didn’t want to answer. It wouldn’t change anything if he knew or not… he wasn’t anyone to you. But would he keep it quiet? If his friends knew… would others find out, too?

“You didn't tell them? Really?” you asked, trying to sound skeptical as you looked away when he laughed. Trusting someone shouldn’t be this hard. He shook his head and gave you an approving nod. “I’m not that much of a jerk.”

You knew he wasn’t a bad person. You’d never really thought of him as terrible, but… he was still JJ. He’d just always been the idiot in your mind.

“Positive,” you said without thinking. Maybe you should’ve thought twice, but you were exhausted. Worn out. How long could someone live like this, carrying a secret like this?

You wanted to let go of the weight inside. You were tired. Drained. And somehow, JJ felt like someone who wouldn’t judge you. He wouldn’t pressure you to have an abortion, wouldn’t insult you, wouldn’t tell you he wanted you but not the baby… He’d know, and maybe he’d tell someone, but in the grand scheme, even if he did, it would feel like a mosquito bite in comparison.

"Even I," he began, taking a deep breath, his eyes scanning your face. He looked at your red eyes and flushed nose, taking another deep sigh. Slowly, he withdrew his hand from your arm and gestured to your face with a finger. “Even I know better than to upset a pregnant woman. What kind of people are you around? Seems like they’ve got you wandering around with tears pouring down all the time.” He kept his voice low, only loud enough for you to hear.

You took a deep breath and tore your eyes away from his, looking quickly at the sea as your eyes began to fill with tears again. You just wanted this day to be over. To be done, so you could just sleep.

“It won’t last long,” you said. It’s what everyone wanted. Maybe they were right. Maybe ending the pregnancy was the best choice. Maybe it was you who was wrong. Who knows? Maybe hearing the same words from three different people was the universe sending you a sign.

“Do you want it?”

JJ’s question hit you hard. Do you want it? All you’d heard was ‘I don’t want it.’ Not once had anyone asked if you did.

You didn’t want to break down in front of him. You didn’t want to collapse and cry. As your legs shook, you crossed your arms tightly over your chest, keeping your eyes on the sea. The tears felt inevitable, as if they were determined to fall, slipping down your cheeks despite your efforts to hold them back.

“I don’t know,” you managed to say. Your voice was so soft, even you barely heard it, but JJ was completely focused on you, catching every word. He took a deep breath and stepped closer, aware of your tears without a word.

You felt his hand lightly on your back, a gentle, steadying touch. “Then don’t let anyone else sway you. Eventually, you’ll know what you want…” His tone was calm, like he was offering a suggestion. He didn’t look at you, either, keeping his gaze on the ocean just as you did.

Closing your eyes tightly, you drew in a deep breath, letting the scent of the ocean fill your lungs. “No one else thinks that, though…” Opening up to him was a mistake, you knew it. You were seeking the support, the respect he offered from a stranger you hardly knew. But somehow, he understood. He seemed to know just what you needed, as if he could tell exactly what words would help you most.

"Are you," His voice was barely a whisper. There wasn’t a soul around, no one remotely nearby, but he still chose to whisper. "Are you the one having the baby, or are they?"

As the sun slipped lower, you continued staring out at the view. You took a shaky breath, feeling like you might collapse. JJ’s hand was a light presence on your back, yet it felt like it was the only thing keeping you upright.

You lifted a hand to wipe the tears from your cheeks, grateful that he was standing behind you. The last thing you wanted was to fall apart in front of him. The tears blurred your vision, but you blinked them away, refusing to let yourself break down. Your last shreds of pride wouldn't let you. But the pain was overpowering, the shame too deep, like something was twisting and hollowing you out from the inside.

He was practically a stranger. JJ wasn’t in your life; you didn’t even see him regularly. You barely talked. And yet, here he was, offering you a kind of support you couldn’t even get from your family… How?

“Do you have a place to stay?” JJ’s question pulled you back. You wiped your tears again and turned to face him. His gaze moved from the scenery to you as your eyes met. Now that you were looking at him, you really saw him. The first time you’d seen him, you’d been so hurt, you just wanted him to go away. You hadn’t thought he’d follow you; you just wanted him to leave. And now— it was as if you were seeing him for the first time.

When you’d first crossed paths weeks ago, he’d been bruised up, his face covered in cuts. He’d probably been there to get some bandages or meds, but you hadn’t given it a second thought. The bruises had faded in the past two weeks, though a couple of scabs still lingered.

“Looks like you like what you see…” he smirked, jolting you out of your thoughts. You took a quick step back. If he didn’t say such idiotic things, you might have thought he was actually kind of human, but he was still the same idiot he’d always been.

You cleared your throat, annoyed at his bluntness. "No," you said. Technically, you did have a place—you could go home. But you didn’t want to. They hadn’t told you to leave, but you just couldn’t take another lecture. "No, I don’t have a place to stay."

JJ smirked again, and a hint of laughter crossed his face as if something had just occurred to him. He looked out at the sea and said, “Good.” That was all he said before glancing behind him. “I don’t have a place either. C’mon, let’s go.” He started walking ahead, and you looked at him, confused. If he didn’t have a place, then why had he asked? Idiot.

He turned and looked back at you. When he saw you hadn’t moved, his smirk widened, and he spread his arms, walking backward. “Come on! Let’s go!” Then he turned back around and kept walking. You didn’t understand him, but you started to follow.

He walked to where his things were, threw on a shirt, and picked up his bag. He glanced back to make sure you were following and grinned again. “I know a nice spot. You’ll probably hate it, Princess. But I’ll take you there.” As he grabbed your wrist to tug you along, you paused for a second to put on your shoes when you reached the edge of the beach. “Your face— it’s healed up,” you noted. JJ just grinned and tossed his still-damp hair back, giving you a look that hinted he’d taken your words another way.

“I know I’m handsome. Thanks for noticing.”

A true idiot shows his colors anywhere, anytime. Never forget that.

And yet—as annoying as he was, you kept following him, completely sure that wherever he was taking you, you were going to hate it.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Could we please get Feyd x reader where they have an arranged marriage with feyd and the House Harkonnen expects her to be replused by him . But instead reader is completely obsessed with him and finds him so hot because he is lol and he can do no wrong. LOVE YOUR FEYD STORIES 💌

Unexpected

Feyd-Rautha x Reader

Notes/Warnings: None, i think. I mean, arranged marriages? That's not really a warning though. Anyway, i fear this kind of sucks. My writing has been messed up lately. Hopefully, you guys still enjoy it anyway.

Words: 2100

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

They’ve been chattering for what has felt like hours—going on about dresses and parties, servant boys they find particularly interesting—and at some point, your mind could no longer take the dull droning, and so you drifted onto thoughts of him. 

You know everything about him, read everything about his family. You saw his face in an updated textbook about the Great Houses, drawn in what you hope is a perfect likeness, because if it is, then he’s absolutely stunning. You’ve never seen anything like the Harkonnens, but then again, they look like no one else. They’re wholly unique and you want everything to do with them—well, specifically, everything to do with Feyd-Rautha. 

“I can’t believe they’re marrying you off to him,” one of your friends—the daughter of House Wallach—says.

You snap out of your thoughts, wondering when the conversation turned toward you and your soon-to-be husband. You hum in question, needing more time to provide an answer that won’t induce raised brows and dropped jaws. 

“Yes,” the other says—Duke Leto’s daughter, whose bedroom balcony you’re currently sitting on. “How can they do that to you? You’re their only daughter and they are giving you to a murderous House.”

“We’re all murderous Houses,” you quickly say, and from receiving the blank stares you’d hoped to avoid, raise your teacup to your lips to hide your blush. You take a sip, then continue. “What I mean is, history states we’ve all dealt with bloody hands. That’s how our families are where they are.”

“Well, the rest of us don’t kill anymore. Our families are praised, worshipped.”

“So are the Harkonnens.”

“Out of fear,” Wallach reminds you. “The Baron is vile, as if you don’t know, and he trained Feyd-Rautha to be just as insane.”

Insane. That word has been used a lot lately. Your mother shouts it at your father for his willing agreement with the Baron. Your servants whisper it amongst themselves when they think you cannot hear them. That boy is insane, they say. She’s doomed, they say. But you don’t see it that way. You’re not scared of Feyd-Rautha. You’ll admit you don’t so much care for the Baron, but that’s because you’ve heard of his treatment of your future husband.

People claim Feyd-Rautha’s a lapdog—you don’t believe that. From what you’ve learned, you see no puppy in Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. You see a lion on the prowl, biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike from below. You see a man hunting his dinner. You hope upon meeting, he gobbles you up as well. 

“Aren’t you terrified?” Atreides asks. “Don’t you think about your first night with him?”

You certainly do. Another sip of tea hides another blush. “I’m not worried.”

Wallach blows out a huff of breath. “Maybe you’re as insane as he is.”

Yes, you think maybe you are. 

—

Your mother struggles to hand you over. You’re the one who has to pry her gripping fingers from your arm so you can step forward and bow to the Baron. When you rise, you sneak a peek at Feyd-Rautha just to his uncle’s right. He’s as beautiful as his picture depicted. His eyes are just as glazed over with steel as you imagined. He looks at you, and the steel melts ever so slightly. His brow pinches. He swallows hard. 

“I trust my daughter will be well taken care of,” your father says, a puff expanding his chest. It makes him look no more menacing than he is. 

The Baron chuckles. “In the hands of my nephew, you can expect no less.”

You know it’s a lie. One corner of Feyd-Rautha’s lips quirks upward. He has plans for you—good. You like plans. You have plans of your own. 

He steps down the staircase that has held him above you and your family and takes your hand in his. He presses his lips to your knuckles. Your blood zings throughout your veins. If this is all it takes for you to feel this way, you can’t imagine what more will do to you. The thought of his lips in new places, his tongue in new places, makes your eyelids flutter. 

“My Lady,” he says. His voice is intoxicatingly low. 

“My Lord,” you say back to him. 

When you smile at him, the smirk drops from his face and his head jerks back. Cold, blue eyes scan your features for falsities, as if you wear a mask he can remove to reveal a frown. He watches that frown fall into place only when your mother comes up behind you. 

“Oh, my sweet daughter,” she cries, whipping your body around so she can properly hug you goodbye. “Don’t let them change you,” she whispers in your ear. “You’re too lovely for them.”

“I’ll be fine,” you tell her. You’ll be more than fine. This is the most excited you’ve been in years. And you knew it would be. That’s what he brings out of you…already. 

—

He likes you. Well, he likes you in a way—he likes the look of you—but it’s hard to say if he likes the rest of you yet. He sneaks glances where he can, but he doesn’t often allow you to be in his presence for long. He removes you from his training sessions when you peek in to watch. He leaves once you join for dinner, which you’re less than a fan of, considering it leaves you to his brother and uncle’s company. He does not come find you to say goodnight. 

Don’t you have better things to do, he’s often snipped at you when he finds you close by. You’ve assumed he means in preparation for the wedding in a week, but you told your new servants and planners to do whatever they want. You don’t care what the damn wedding will look like. You don’t care what you’ll look like. You just want him. You want to be around him. Watch him fight. Watch his muscles tense and shift and strain in the war of death. You want to see his body shine with sweat and his eyes harden with a murderous glare. But he won’t let you.

The closest you’ve been able to get to what you want is by sitting in the stands of the arena, where you have to observe his skills from a decent distance. And while it is wildly exciting to see the man you’re going to marry covered in the blood of enemies, you wish you could be closer. You wish you were close enough so he could grin at you as men’s bodies fall off of his blade. You wish he wanted you close to him because it’s killing you to be so far away. 

After days, you still don’t understand the separation. You figured your smiles at him would be enough to get the message across that if he likes you in any sense of the word, then he should be going for you as much as you would him if he’d permit it, but no. He keeps his space between you. Unfortunately for him, you’re sick of it. 

—

“I’m tired of you avoiding me,” you call as you chase after him down the darkened hallway. You’d been waiting outside his training room for hours, hoping his keen senses couldn't pick up your unsteady breathing as you prepared yourself for this exact confrontation. 

His steps stutter at your words and he pauses. He turns on his heel, and with narrowed eyes, advances on you. His form towers over yours, and in any other situation, you might detest the abuse of power, but here, now, you feel a sharp thrill. You try not to let his lack of shirt affect what more you intend to say, but it’s hard. You’re already swallowing saliva. You’re core is already throbbing. 

“Do you have a moment?” you ask.

Feyd’s muscles tighten and bulge as his arms cross over his chest. He huffs. “I don’t understand you. You’re like a little rodent, you know,” he says. “Following me around as if I drop crumbs for you.”

A lump catches in your throat. He hasn’t spoken much to you since your arrival on Giedi Prime, and you know cruelty runs through the Harkonnen bloodline, but you didn’t know he could cut so deeply with words. “I’m not a rodent.”

“You’re as annoying as one.”

“Because I want to be around you?” you ask. “Because I like you–”

His arms fall away from his chest and your head flinches back from the finger pointed at your nose. “You do not like me,” he snaps.

His voice, though low, bounces off the walls of the hall, an echoey repeating of those words that you almost can’t believe you’re having to hear. You’ve not given any indication that what you’re telling him could possibly be a lie, so you don’t see how he could come to that conclusion. Unless there are whispers in his ear. 

“Yes, I do,” you say. “I’m marrying you. I want to marry you.”

“You are not supposed to want that,” he spits.

“Well, I do!” you spit back. 

“Then you don’t make sense!”

You don’t know what that means, so you just stand there, staring at one another as you wait for him to explain further. He doesn’t, and you tire of the waiting, so instead, you take a risk by stepping closer, and with cautious fingers, you raise your hand to his chest. Your palm plants firmly against his skin, and then you feel it. His heart beating rapidly. For a second you think it’s from the training. But then you look up at him, at how his jaw clenches and how he struggles to meet your eyes. And now you understand.

“I like what you are,” you tell him. “I like that you’re strong. I don’t care that you kill. I don’t care that you crave the feeling it gives you.”

“You should care,” he says, still avoiding your gaze. “You’re meant to be a precious little Lady. That’s what I was promised.”

“And that is what you wanted for a wife?” He doesn’t give you an answer. “I’m sorry if you’re disappointed–” he snorts, irritating you further. “I’m sorry if that ruins whatever fun you intended to have with me. I know the Baron has been eager to see what you’ll do to me once we’re married.”

His head swivels back to yours. “He found enjoyment from the idea that you’d be repulsed by me,” he says. “And so did I. So you shouldn’t feel so comfortable.” He latches his fingers to your wrist and jerks your hand away from his body. His hand leaves yours. It falls back to your side and you instantly feel a chill without him. It won’t do. You see a glimpse of your marriage—a loneliness, a cold side of your bed. He begins to turn away from you. 

“You don’t now?”

He stops. “What?”

“You said you did find enjoyment in it,” you repeat. “Do you still?”

You can see his teeth grinding with the shifting of his jaw as he contemplates continuing this conversation. “They said you wouldn’t like me,” he finally tells you. 

“But I do,” you say. “I read about you. I liked you before I met you.”

He groans. His hand runs down his face. He steps back to you, an iciness penetrating your stare. “I had plans for you. Ones you weren’t going to enjoy.”

A smirk curls your lips. “I had plans for you, too. Ones I fully intended to enjoy.”

He sucks in a breath, his chest puffing. His eyes narrow as if searching for your lies. 

Without another thought, you reach up again and, placing your palms on his cheeks, raise onto your toes to press your lips to his. It might be idiotic of you. It might be the stupidest move you could make. He might gut you for the act, marriage alliance be damned. But the only interest you have is in getting your point across. 

His lips are soft—probably one of the few soft spots on him—and they taste of salt from the sweat of his training. He’s frozen for a few agonizing beats, but then nails are digging into the skin of your hips, the fabric of your dress doing nothing to keep the sharp sting at bay. Lips move in tune with yours. You’re pushed backward. You hit the wall, trapped between hard surfaces of stone and body. 

You ache for the man you’ve felt you’ve known for longer than you have. You ache for the heat of him. You knew it would feel like this. 

When the kiss breaks, you smile. “You’ll like me,” you tell him. “I promise.”

He sighs in defeat and says, “I know.”

[pileofmush]

luffy is for the sad, pathetic, touch-starved bitches. the ones who shiver at the mere brush of skin. who wince whenever their friends go in for hugs, unsure of where to put their arms. the ones who are so, so aware of their proximity to others. so careful not to brush fingers when walking side to side with a peer, or when handing a pencil to a friend, because they’re sure that one affectionate squeeze of the arm could leave their innards a puddle at their feet, creeping toward the nearest drain.

when you meet luffy, you think he’s one to be admired, not touched. you see the way he infects everyone around him with his reckless abandon. hanging off shoulders and dragging people to and fro. his crewmates are used to it. they scoff and wiggle under his weight for show: for there’s a sense of relief when monkey d. luffy has his eyes on you. you can tell in the automatic decompression of their shoulders, in the languid way they turn to him—saplings curving toward the sun. 

you see it, and you envy it. respect it. respect him. but that’s the extent of your thoughts on the matter.

you never considered that he would turn his sights on you. 

but he does. 

he picks you up like you’re something shiny, holds you up to the light and squints. and whatever he finds must be satisfying, because after that, he doesn’t put you down. 

it overwhelms you, at first. he tugs on your cheek at the sight of a frown, like you’re the one made of rubber, and your heart does a funny jig that’s actually not funny at all. he pokes you in the ribcage to grab your attention, and ignores you when you try to tell him that a verbal cue would work just as well. he grabs your hand, instinctively twining your fingers, and pulls you along when you stop in your tracks.

and you feel—you feel like a puddle. be careful your mind warns, or you’ll slip.

but luffy’s there to catch you when you fall.

and that’s what’s so terrible about him, you think. he’s the question and the answer. 

and he’s burrowed himself under your skin. 

how foolish of him to touch you so casually and expect you not to revel in it. not to crave his pokes and his prods more than you crave air. how foolish of him to drape himself over you like a weighted blankie and not expect you to desire him by your side, always, to keep the cold at bay. he’s a fool and you’re a pauper.

but, sometimes, you think he knows what he does to you. he has to. oh, how he’ll laugh when he catches you staring at his hands. bound over until he’s right in front of you, place a thumb under your chin and tilt until your gaze meets his. his eyes are dark, but so, so bright. you want to look away. you don’t. 

everything is so easy for him. it's unnerving. he plops his head in your lap one day with a carefree grin. you still—hold your breath like a child playing hide and seek. he cracks open an eye, like he can read your thoughts. or maybe he can just feel you tremble.

“what’s wrong?”

you rack your brain for an answer he could understand. “what do you want me to do?” you hedge. 

luffy furrows his brows. “whatever you want,” he says.

“no, i mean—where do you want me to touch?” 

he shrugs. “wherever you want.”

and you feel—you feel like you want to run your hands over every inch of his skin until you have a mental map of his body you could navigate through touch alone. you want to put him in your mouth. you want to inhale him like a drug, want him to burn the back of your throat 'til it stings. you want… him. 

you settle for caressing his jawline. tracing the slope of his nose. his eyes flutter shut, and you pause, but he grabs your hand and plants it firmly on his face. and it feels, it feels like you’re the question and he’s the answer. it feels like maybe, just maybe, you’re okay with becoming a puddle of a person, for him. 

[tojismain]

clenched jaws and promises — part 2

part 1

The both of you drove in silence for a while, you were looking out the window and Toji’s hands had turned white from his clutch on the steering wheel. 

“Sweetheart.”

You turn to him.

He looks at you for a brief second before turning back to the road, his face stuck in a glare. “What did she say to you?”

“What?” You asked, keeping clueless. “Who?”

“You’re not dumb, baby. Don’t act like it.” He replies.

You inhale a breath and look back out the window, “She didn’t say anything.”

You can see him turn to look at you again, quiet for a moment before he looks straight ahead. 

“Then tell me what’s wrong.”

“Toji, nothing’s wrong.” You say, exasperated.

“Bullshit.” He iterates and the car slows to a stop in the middle of the road. “I know you’re lying. I can see it on your face and I can hear it in your voice. Stop avoiding my question and tell me what’s wrong.”

Your heart pounds harder in your chest and you look at him, worried. “Toji, the car. You can’t just stop-” 

“There’s no one here. Tell me or I’m not moving.” His eyes were now fixed on you as he waited for a reply, and you feel scrutinized in the worst way. 

You were scared; what if what she said was true, what if toji throws you aside the moment he realizes you won’t change into someone else, what if the car gets hit because you couldn’t talk.

Tears gather in your eyes as you look at him. He notices them and moves his hands back on the wheel. 

He closes his eyes as he breathes in harshly. “Fuck.” He moves the car again and you feel like you can breathe again.

“I’m sorry, angel.” Angel.  He only ever used that pet name when he hurt you, and the fact that he was apologizing softened the fear in your chest.

You fiddle with your fingers on your lap, “She just got in my head about something.” You say. “It’s stupid.” 

“It’s not stupid. I don’t like the way you’re acting right now, baby. What did she say to you?” He was adamant on figuring out what was hurting you so bad. 

You swallow and explain, “That you have a type.” Your mouth opens and closes a few times before you continue, “And I'm not it. I’m not what you need. Sooner or later you’ll get bored and- I don’t know. It just makes sense—everything she said.”

“That makes sense to you?” He repeats and then parks the car on the side of the road. 

You turn your eyes away from him.

“No. Look back at me.” He was also adamant on making you understand something.

You felt hot, regardless of the cold air outside and inside the car. But you turn to look at him anyway.

“Get one thing through your head, right now. You’re it for me. I’d never get bored of you. I would never get tired of you. I don’t know what type of bullshit she fed you, but she doesn’t know us, does she?”

You keep quiet but he wants an answer.

“Does she?” He repeated and you felt like crying. Actually, you were certain you were crying.

You shake your head and look down. 

“Then tell me you understand.” 

You don’t know what it was about her and why her words affected you so much. Maybe you had been thinking about this for a while and she confirmed your doubts. 

“You’re used to a different life than mine. I can’t be that girl she was talking about—the type you have or used to have. I don’t want you to feel like you have to settle for me and then realize you have it all wrong.” 

All you could think was now was the time he would tell you to get out of the car, but regardless of his hostile kindness, he would never hurt you more than you’ve already been hurt. 

“Do you really think I don’t know what I want and what I like? Do you think I don’t know that I want you? You’re the only one I want and the only one I'll ever want and if someone gets in your head about that, you talk to me about it.” He reaches forward and tilts your head up.

“Does that make sense, sweetheart?” You look away but he follows your eyes with his own, his eyebrows furrowed as he waits. 

You look at him longer for the first time since you got in the car. He looked completely and honestly sincere. That’s when you decide to believe in someone for the first time in your life. 

You nod your head in reply, and he swipes his thumb over your cheek to wipe the tears.

“Good.” He looks at you for an instant longer, committing your face to memory.

He then places one hand on your thigh and the other goes back to the steering wheel. It was almost as if he was scared you’d disappear, and tonight more than any other night, he needed to know that you would stay.

aurelia

[verstappen-cult]

ALL I WANT, M. VERSTAPPEN

✶ SUMMARY. Max is a jealous man, he can’t help it, but never does a big deal out of it. Sometimes he likes to remind people you’re taken and other times remind you who you belong to. But when he sees you flirting with one of his coworkers, an awful feeling in the pit of his stomach makes him want to cry.

content warnings ✶ disclaimers. fem!reader. hurt/comfort. jealous and insecure max. lewis as a plot device.

GWEN RAMBLES — hello! this was requested by a lovely anon who wanted a little bit of jealous and insecure max. and this is what came out, i hope you all like it! comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated.

If you ask Max, he will admit he’s a jealous man. But it’s just that he doesn’t like seeing people flirting with his girl when they know (and even if they don’t) she’s taken. She’s with him.

But seeing you talking with Lewis has made him feel something strange, something he doesn’t like.

He’s been watching you for about five minutes, after he excused himself to go buy a few more drinks for the table, and you moved closer to Lewis. Max really doesn’t like the way you keep laughing and twirling your hair while Lewis says something that he can’t hear, but wishes to.

Are you flirting with Lewis? Is that what’s happening?

When he sees you throw your head back in a laugh, something ugly twists inside of him.

What does Lewis Hamilton have that he doesn’t? He is an attractive man, Max can admit that. But what are you looking for that Max doesn’t have? He really tries to give you everything, to respect your space and have a good communication. And yes, you have fights and he’s not very proud to admit that he is a difficult man, and sometimes it’s hard to fight against the Verstappen gen, but he tries.

He really fucking tries to be the man you deserve.

Is it because Lewis is more talented? Is it because he has more championships than him? Or maybe it is because he’s having an awful season and can’t seem to move up from fifth place while Lewis has won the last three races in a row? Max doesn’t know, but he doesn’t like feeling this way. He doesn’t like thinking that you’ll definitely be better without him and with someone more easy to talk to, with a lot less trauma maybe, more talented. Just… better than him.

He wants to be at the receiving end of that laugh, of those sparkling eyes. He’s been in the receiving end countless of times, he just hadn’t seen you act that way with anyone else but him. Until today, that is.

Max feels a tight pressure on his chest, a lump in his throat making it almost impossible to swallow, to breathe. He wants to get out of there. The music is too loud, there are too many people around looking at him, smiling at him not knowing that he just wants to wipe that stupid smile off Lewis’ face.

Max thanks the barman and goes back to the table with the drinks, trying to smile through the awful pain in his chest.

He’s never felt this way before. And he doesn’t like it one bit.

“Hey, baby.” You say, turning around to look at him, still smiling. That precious smile of yours.

“I’m gonna head out,” He says, leaving the drinks on the table. Just one look at your face and he feels like crying right then and there, so he looks away only to find the brown eyes of Lando already on him. His friend raises his eyebrows in a silent question, but Max doesn’t feel like lying, not right now. So he looks away once more. “I’ll text you later.”

Max doesn’t wait for your answer, he turns around and walks out of the club as fast as he can. But he doesn’t even make it to his car.

“Max!” Your voice stops him right in his tracks. “what is going on? I came with you, in case you forgot.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You can ask Lewis to give you a ride.” He winces as the words leave his mouth.

“What? No, why would I do that? I came with you and I’m leaving with you.” He can hear the confusion in your voice, can hear you walking closer to him. “Max, did something happen?”

Max doesn’t want you to think that something is wrong, even if there is something wrong.

“I have a terrible headache,” He turns around, a false smile on his lips. “that’s why I need to leave.”

“Oh, baby.” You coo, cupping his cheek, a soft smile gracing your lips. “Let’s go home. I’m gonna take care of you.”

“No, just stay here. I can take care of myself.”

Your hand falls as well as your face, and Max doesn’t feel proud for making you feel bad. But he needs to do something to stop feeling this way.

“Did I do something?” Your voice is barely above a whisper but it’s enough to set Max off.

“Oh, just go and flirt with Lewis!” He lifts his hands, not being able to contain himself. “You were doing an excellent job!” He exclaims, the tightness in his chest becoming unbearable.

You take a step back, your pretty eyes already filling with tears. The hurt in your face making him want to reach out and pull you to him, but the jealous part, the insecure and horrible part of him makes him keep going.

“I saw the way you looked at him, the way you were acting as if he’s the funniest guy in the world!” He lets out a bitter laugh, his own eyes filling with tears.

“I–I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”

He shakes his head, rubbing his hands over his face. “You think he’s better than me, no? Just say it.”

Something crosses your face, something Max can’t make out, but it makes you take a step forward and then another until you’re inches away from his face.

You take his face in your hands, thumbs caressing his cheeks as tears stream down your face. “Thank god you’re pretty because you can be a little dumb sometimes.”

His brow furrows. “What?”

“I was talking to Lewis about you. From the moment you stood up from the table until you came back, I was talking about you.” The soft smile he loves so much comes back to your face. “We were talking about our plans for the summer, and how I’m so nervous to meet your family.”

Max lifts a hand and wipes the tears from your face, the other one finding comfort on your waist. The knot in his stomach slowly disappearing, the pain in his chest still there, still bothering him.

“I was telling him how angry I am with your awful team because they keep messing with the strategies. But that I’m so proud of you for still being in the lead, even after all the fucked up things they’re doing and the shitty car they gave you.” That makes him laugh, and feels a single tear fall. But immediately disappears thanks to you. “And Lewis agrees. He knows how talented you are and that you deserve better. If you saw me smile and do whatever you though I was doing to make you think I was flirting,” You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment. You can’t be angry at him, not when you know where he’s coming from. “I’m sorry but it was because of you. Every time someone compliments you while you’re not around, I can’t help but act like a school girl with a crush. But I’m not flirting with anyone but you. You’re the only one, dummy.”

You’re the only one.

That makes him feel warm all over. Makes his need to cry be for a totally different reason.

He looks down at you, at your pretty face and puffy eyes, your plump rosy lips that he just want to kiss to make sure you’re telling the truth. But for that he only needs to look you in the eyes just one more time and he knows. Because it’s in the way you look at him, a special spark in your eyes every time you make eye contact, every time he tells you something, anything, even the most ordinary thing.

He knows he’s the only one.

“You’re the only one too.” He whispers and you sniff, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. Your laugh against his skin sends shivers down his spine. The laugh he wants to hear for the rest of his life.

“Don’t think, not even for a second, that I’m gonna let this go away as nothing.” Pulling away, you leave a soft kiss on his jaw. “We still need to talk. You need to tell me why you’re feeling this way. It’s not just for what happened tonight.”

Max knows you’re right. But he doesn’t want to have that conversation tonight, and definitely not in the middle of the parking lot.

“Let’s go home.”

“You wanna cuddle, pretty boy?” Max rolls his eyes in annoyance, but doesn’t say no.

do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own. | © verstappen-cult, 2024.

[p0orbaby]

Meet Cute

summary: it was always meant to be

warnings: just fluff for this one

a/n: probably my favourite pairing of mine to write

word count: 1.4k

-

Leah Williamson is not your type. This, you decide the moment you spot her from across the ballroom, swiping a glass of champagne off a passing waiter’s tray.

You’re aware she’s famous, which is typically a red flag for you. Infamous in your world, where all the proper names are whispered behind manicured hands and anything resembling normalcy is held with the same disdain as a counterfeit handbag. Leah Williamson is an athlete, which in your circles is roughly akin to being an overpaid circus act.

But what really gives you pause is her haircut.

Short, blonde, not-quite-pixie. She looks like she’s wandered in here by mistake, a traveler who’s taken the wrong exit on the motorway and ended up in a place where the speed limit is fifty miles under what she’s used to. You half-expect her to pull out a map and ask someone the quickest way back to civilisation. Instead, she tips her head back and downs the champagne like it’s water, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, and you’re immediately in love.

Of course, you won’t admit this, even under threat of being forced to wear last season’s Chanel. Love, in your world, is about as fashionable as pleather.

Your grandmother, God rest her weary soul, once said, “You’ll know it’s love when you’re willing to risk wearing nude tights for them.” Nude tights, in her book, being one of the greatest crimes against humanity. You’re not sure you’re there yet, but the idea doesn’t fill you with as much dread as it would have this morning.

But you digress. You’re here at this godforsaken gala because your father insists on parading you like a prize cow before other old-money families, hoping you’ll marry someone with a suitable lineage. You’re twenty-six and your father has begun to suspect you might have, as he put it, “alternative preferences.” This is his way of reminding you that lineage is everything, and falling for someone without a trust fund is tantamount to treason.

So here you are, in a dress that costs more than most people’s cars, standing next to the dessert table and pretending the caviar blinis don’t taste like expensive regret. Across the room, Leah is now juggling her champagne glass and a miniature beef Wellington, and she seems to be losing.

You decide to rescue her. Or rather, you decide to rescue yourself from having to listen to Lord Farnsworth’s lecture on the importance of preserving the family crest for the fifteenth time this evening.

“Having fun?” you ask when you reach her, which is a stupid question because of course she isn’t. Nobody is having fun here.

She turns to you, and for a moment, you’re convinced she’s going to hand you her beef Wellington like you’re the help. Instead, she gives you a smile so dry you could use it to exfoliate.

“Are you?” she asks, and her voice is lower than you expected, with that clipped accent that tells you she’s from somewhere north of where people have indoor pools.

You shrug, because you don’t really know how to answer that without resorting to a level of honesty that would make your therapist proud but your mother faint.

“I’ve had root canals that were more enjoyable,” you say, and she laughs, a short bark of a sound that seems to surprise even her.

“Fair,” she says, and you feel like you’ve passed some sort of test.

“So what brings you to the seventh circle of hell?” you ask, watching as she abandons her beef Wellington on a passing waiter’s tray like she’s releasing a burden into the wild.

“I was invited,” she says, as though that explains everything, and maybe it does. Maybe she’s been told, like you have, that there are some invitations you just don’t turn down. Even if they come with the risk of being cornered by Lord Farnsworth and his endless tirade about how the current generation is ruining the art of fox hunting.

“Ah,” you say, because you understand that language. “That explains the face”

“What face?”

“The one you’ve been making all night,” you say, trying to demonstrate by contorting your own face into what you hope is an accurate imitation.

She grins again, and it occurs to you that Leah Williamson might be one of those rare people who looks more attractive when they’re amused. Most people, in your experience, become grotesque when they’re laughing, all exposed gums and teeth that are never as straight as they should be. But her face lights up in a way that suggests she doesn’t find the world half as disappointing as you do.

“And what face have you been making?” she asks, leaning in a little closer, and you catch a whiff of her perfume—something that’s probably advertised with shots of people running through fields of lavender, but on her, it smells like trouble.

You gesture vaguely. “It’s somewhere between ‘bored out of my skull’ and ‘I can’t believe I’m not getting paid for this’”

“I’ll have to try that one,” she says, glancing over at Lord Farnsworth, who seems to have set his sights on you again, the poor man. “But I’ll need some pointers”

“First, you need to perfect the art of the disinterested nod,” you say, demonstrating. “Like you’re listening, but you’ve also just remembered you left the oven on”

She mimics you, and it’s terrible, but you applaud her effort anyway.

“Close enough,” you say. “Next, you have to practice the well-timed yawn. Not too obvious, but just enough to suggest you’ve heard all this before”

She pretends to yawn, and it’s so exaggerated that a few people around you turn to look.

“Subtlety is key,” you remind her.

“I’ll work on it,” she says, her grin widening as though she’s actually enjoying herself now, which is against all logic.

“And finally,” you say, feeling suddenly bold, “you have to perfect the getaway”

“The getaway?”

“Yeah,” you say, glancing at Lord Farnsworth, who is now being temporarily distracted by some poor woman in pearls. “Like this”

You grab her by the arm and start walking, weaving your way through the crowd with the precision of someone who has been doing this their whole life. She doesn’t resist, though she does give you a curious look as you lead her past your father, who is deep in conversation with someone equally dull.

You find yourself in the courtyard, where the air is cooler and the moon is doing its best impression of a romantic comedy backdrop. Leah stops and looks up at the sky, as though she’s surprised to find it there.

“Nice,” she says, and you can’t tell if she’s talking about the view or the escape route.

“Much better than listening to Lord Farnsworth,” you say, and she turns to you with that smile again, the one that’s starting to feel dangerously like an invitation.

“So,” she says, as if continuing a conversation you didn’t know you were having, “what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

The question is so cliché it should make you cringe, but it doesn’t. Instead, it feels like the most natural thing in the world, and you find yourself saying, “I’m here because I lost a bet with Satan”

She chuckles, a low rumble in her chest that makes you feel like you’ve won something. “And what did you bet on?”

“That I could get through this evening without wanting to jump into traffic,” you say, and she laughs again, this time a little louder.

“I think you lost that bet the moment you saw the guest list,” she says, and you nod in agreement.

“So what about you?” you ask, genuinely curious now. “Why are you here?”

“Because I was invited,” she repeats, but this time, there’s something else in her tone, something that makes you think she’s not just talking about the gala.

You want to ask her what she means, but you don’t. Instead, you reach out and take her hand, surprising both of you.

“Let’s make another bet,” you say, feeling a strange kind of thrill, like you’re standing on the edge of something.

“What kind of bet?” she asks, her eyes narrowing slightly, but there’s a glint in them that makes you think she’s game.

“That we can get through the rest of this evening without wanting to jump into traffic,” you say, squeezing her hand just a little.

She considers this for a moment, then grins. “You’re on”

And just like that, the evening shifts. The gala, the people, the expectations—they all fade into the background as you and Leah step into something that feels suspiciously like possibility.

You don’t know where this is going, but for the first time in a long time, you’re excited to find out. And maybe, just maybe, you’re willing to risk wearing nude tights for her. But only if you lose the bet.

[jeneveuxrein]

attention (TWICE Nayeon)

word count: 6.1K

(she's been on my radar since the killing voice medley, and well, yeah, enjoy!)

-- -- -- 

You’re seething, forcing the amber liquid down, watching the people mingle. You should introduce yourself to some because networking at events like this always gives you the chance to meet the next up and coming. 

But not tonight. 

You don’t even want to be here. You weren’t on the original guest list, but with last minute changes and someone’s wife suddenly going into labor, your boss forced you to attend. 

Maybe the proper term is chaperone. 

All you wanted to do tonight was spend some time with this woman you’ve been casually seeing. Nothing serious, nothing committal, just dinner and drinks that had the potential of ending together in a bed. You had been dragging it out, and you think it’s warranted. She makes it obvious she’s interested.

But with how this evening was looking, you’ll be spending the night with someone else. 

That someone is across the room, draped over some man you’re more than likely going to have to do damage control. She’s an idol after all, and rumors will spread like a wildfire about her being linked to someone who’s nowhere near her caliber. 

She catches you staring, sending a sly smirk as she leans into whatever-his-face is saying. A little too close for the company’s taste and a shit ton too much for your sake.

“Dear fuck,” You mumble, shaking your head before standing. 

You don’t know what compels you to walk through the crowd, nodding politely at those that wave, but there you are, less than a meter away from where she’s seated. 

“Nayeon,” You say coolly. The man quickly separates himself, going as far away from the woman in question. “Time to go. You have an early day tomorrow.”

Nayeon tilts her head, a questioning glint in her eye because she, out of all of the members, knows her schedule. She has nothing for tomorrow, except maybe rest and recovery because this is her fault you’re here. 

Well, maybe you should backtrack. It’s technically your fault because if you hadn’t mentioned to Sana and Momo the plans you originally had, you wouldn’t be at some event against your will. It was an innocent question on how you were going to spend the weekend, the only mistake was that you said too much that they went running to their unnie. 

“Okay,” Nayeon says slowly, standing before bidding farewell to the people at the table. You wait for her, obviously, because that’s what you’re supposed to do. “Shall we?” She asks as she turns to face you. 

You nod, stepping side before bowing politely. You’ll have to send a message to the media team to stop any photos releasing of Nayeon and the man, but that could wait. There were more pressing matters that needed your attention. 

It isn’t until you’re inside your car that she says something that ticks you off, “So no date with Suji-unnie tonight?”

You shake your head, composing yourself because it’s a question she knows the answer to. “Nope, duty calls. Had to be here.”

“How unfortunate,” Nayeon says casually as if she had no part in how your night turned out, slouching in the passenger seat as you shift the car into drive. “Yours or mine? ” She asks, looking out the window. Adding, “Momo’s in Japan.”

“Mine,” You answer simply, turning onto the street. 

-- -- 

You should’ve seen it coming, but you let it happen. 

The company and management would have you barred from working with anyone in the industry if they ever found out. You reasoned that was why by the time things unfolded, it was out of your control. 

How it started was subtle, nothing too out of the ordinary to draw attention to her mostly. She flirted with you, commenting on your outfits about how it looked good on you and you, being you, would return the sentiment. It wasn’t anything explicit, just a polite acknowledgement of her looking great, something she heard daily from the girls and other people on the team. 

She lingered to walk with you whether it was crowded or not, it didn’t matter. She was right by your side, and the times where fans were around, she’d be especially close that you had no other choice to wrap your arm around her, shielding her from people who desperately wanted her attention. You missed the snickers from the girls, rolling their eyes because they knew what she was up to, while you were just doing your job. 

Then she texted you on free days, asking if you wanted to do something. Anything from getting food at hole-in-the-wall restaurants she learned about from Chaeyoung to intimate concerts of artists in the industry. You tried to decline, advising her to go with one of the female managers so it wouldn’t look suspicious to the public eye, but she was adamant about going with you. Some of the girls would join from time to time, but the majority of the time, it was just you two.

Again, you thought nothing of it. You were the closest to her, so no one batted an eye when she put in the group chat when something was planned. 

That was just how your relationship was with her for five years since the group debuted. 

Until one night.

You were working late, going over the travel plans for the girls’ encore tour, tucked away in your office. A short four-city stint in the United States that would be a bit of a hustle for them, but you knew they could do it. 

There were a soft two knocks, scaring you because you thought everyone had already left. You remembered the way you said come in, raspy and tired, when the door opened slightly, the half of Nayeon’s face peeking through the crevice. 

You smiled immediately, sitting straight, nodding as she stepped inside. You took note of her outfit. Something comfortable since they had dance rehearsals for the better part of the day, dark sweats and a heather grey cropped hoodie that showed a sliver of her skin, peeking from underneath. 

You watched Nayeon grow into a beautiful woman. Sexy too, but you slapped yourself every single time you thought of her like that. There had to be some professional line drawn somewhere. Although it seemed that metaphorical line had been blurred, crossed, over the past few months. 

She was more affectionate, playing with your fingers in the car, gently touching your arm wherever you walked. She pressed into your side more, even when there were no people around. She hugged you a bit longer than the others, not like you were counting the seconds. 

You stood to meet her on the couch, asking if she was alright since she was vocal earlier in the day she wanted to go home to sleep. She explained that she had finished practicing with the dance instructor. You admired how hard she worked, which for what it was worth, you thought she did well during rehearsals. 

“And I saw your office light on as I was leaving, thought I’d say goodbye,” Nayeon rested her head on your outstretched arm. It wasn’t out of the norm, something she did quite frequently in front of everyone. 

“You should rest,” You urged, softly squeezing her shoulder as she snuggled into you. “You did great today.”

Nayeon looked up at you, gaze briefly shifting to your lips before meeting your eyes, “Really?” 

You hadn’t realized it before, but as she stared at you, you could see how much she needed the affirmation, the reassurance, the praise, from you. 

You cleared your throat, looking away because it suddenly felt hot in your office. With Nayeon this close, her perfume faint, it had you dizzy. You mumbled a shy yeah. 

You knew the moment her hand touched your thigh, it was over. Everything you worked for, investing time and resources to make sure the girls you managed were successful, would be tossed down the drain because the undeniable tension that had been building over the past however long at this point broke.

The thing was, you didn’t know about it until that moment. 

You weren’t sure who kissed who first, and it didn’t matter. All you knew was she was on top, your arms pulling her closer as your lips met in a heated kiss, swallowing each other’s moans. 

Something clicked inside of you, like this was always supposed to happen. Every message, every call, every playful push, every stolen glance, every single thing led to this. 

“Nayeon,” You tore yourself apart, hyper aware of the small whine leaving her mouth as you tried to get some grip on the situation. “What’re we doing? We can’t do this.” 

Her eyes narrowed, glaring, and you knew that whatever resolve you had would be taken from you by her whether you liked it or not. She was never one to be challenged, always exceeding whatever expectation was placed on her. 

“And why not?” Her voice was steady, but her body was not. She dropped to her knees in between your legs. All the thoughts you pushed deep down inside you came rushing to the surface, dismantling the walls you put up for her to break it so easily. “You don’t think I’m pretty?” Her hands were on the waistband of your slacks, trailing along, stopping when she reached the button. 

You didn’t have the words, no sentence to form as she slowly, oh so slowly, pulled the zipper down. You nearly choked once she placed her hand over your cock, palming with the softest pressure. 

“Your body seems to think so,” She teased, slipping her hand underneath the fabric, wrapping around your cock. 

That very thin thread of control you snapped, leaning forward to pull back onto your lap. “That’s a lot to assume,” You quipped, hands gripping her waist firmly. 

“Really?” She rolled her hips over you, catching the smirk on her face as your eyes closed. “I think that you’ve always wanted me as much as I wanted you, which I—”

Impulsively, you brought your lips to hers, a searing kiss that she met with the same enthusiasm. You murmured a shut up before nipping her bottom lip, sucking lightly that her body shuddered against you. 

You didn’t remember much else from that night. 

That was a lie because that was the night she confessed it all. It didn’t help that she somehow slipped all her clothes off and she sunk your cock inside one smooth motion, testing your control once again because you could’ve exploded the moment you felt her warmth wrapped around you.

You remembered it vividly, clearly, as you watched her move on top of you. It was slow, intentional with every drop of her body, like she was showing you what you had been missing. It was hot, tight, and you couldn’t stop the whimper out of your mouth when she started whispering things—nasty, filthy things that you would have never guessed were in her vocabulary. 

Nayeon bit your ear lobe, murmuring how good you felt, how she got so wet whenever she saw you. The soft moan she let out. The dazed, lust-filled expression with each roll of her hips. You couldn’t stop the noises you made, the groans, the grunts, the fuck every time her pussy tightened. 

There was a brief sense of clarity when your stomach tightened, signaling you were close. You couldn’t exactly cum inside her because one, you stupidly (blindly) forgot to put a condom on, and two, you didn’t keep track of her health records (that wasn’t one of your responsibilities among everything else), so getting an idol pregnant wasn’t exactly on your list. 

She knew you were close the second your hips thrusted up, stealing a breathy moan. You were content lifting her off you to cum anywhere else that wasn’t inside her.

However, Nayeon was not. 

She made it perfectly clear when she wrapped her arms around your neck, pulling you against her as she quickened her pace. You tried, maybe not that much, to get her off you before you met your impending end, but it was futile when she kissed your cheek, affectionately, lovingly, hot breath against your skin that she wanted you to claim her in a way no one else ever had. 

Air left your lungs as you came, releasing a lot inside of her, causing her own orgasm that felt like yours went on forever. She muffled her scream, biting into your neck as her body trembled. 

You wanted to believe it was a one-time thing, a mishap, a lapse in judgment because it was still your fucking job on the line. 

It was not a one-time thing. You couldn’t even count it as a two-time thing, or three, or four. It just kept happening. You couldn’t exactly avoid her, you literally worked for her. 

No one would think you favored her because they all knew you did, but they understood why. No one could stop Nayeon from being near you because she would throw a fit. Any crisis she had, you were the main point of contact because she only listened to you. 

Even if you had some kind of control over her, she had the most control over you. 

Then after some time of figuring out how you and Nayeon could keep whatever this under wraps—nothing was ‘figured out’ as you wouldn’t really be talking if you were alone together—a mutual colleague introduced you to Bae Suji.

-- 

You went on one date with Suji, or Suzy, as she sometimes preferred. How any of the girls found out was beyond you, but if you had to wager, it would’ve been Jeongyeon or Sana (Nayeon later did say it was the latter because her friend saw you).

It didn’t matter who found out because managers are allowed to have lives outside of their work, but this particular part of your life wouldn’t be allowed by the woman you spent a good chunk of time with, on- and off-the-clock. 

To say Nayeon was upset would be an understatement. Sure, she was upset, but she was livid. You didn’t see her that night, but she was at your door the next morning. She did what she always did, easily seducing you before demanding an explanation while you were deep inside her. 

It wasn’t healthy by any means, but it’s not like either of you cared. It was toxic at best, but it was debauchery at its absolute worst, using sex as a loaded gun to get whatever you wanted from each other. 

“You know we can’t keep doing this,” You grunted as you thrusted inside her, pausing as her pussy tightened. 

“Yet here you fucking are, still balls deep inside of me,” Nayeon said lowly, tugging you so you towered over her. “You aren’t fucking her so why did you even go out with her?”

You didn’t bother responding, instead you wrapped a firm hand around her neck, squeezing enough to shut her up because at that point, she was pissing you off. 

You would admit that that morning was the first time you let her get the best of you. You typically weren’t aggressive with her. You might’ve been rough less than a handful of times, but never like that.

What you couldn’t predict was how she’d react. She could have done anything. Hit you. Slap you. Push you off. 

She didn’t. 

It spurred her on more than anything. By the way her pussy tightened. By the way it felt wetter. By the way she tried to make a sound, but couldn’t because of the hold around her.

Your hand relaxed, listening to her violently gasp as the air entered her body. You broke for a moment, searching for any sign of discomfort, uneasiness, because at the end of the day—you wouldn’t admit this to her—you loved her. You were in love with her, stupidly falling for her whether you wanted to or not. You believed she felt the same, but those kinds of things weren’t a topic of discussion. 

“Baby,” You whispered, still buried inside of her, but you weren’t moving. “I’m sor—”

Nayeon shook her head, sitting up as you hissed once the cool air hit your cock. She gave you a quick peck before turning onto her stomach, arching her back. Pushing herself up on her hands, she shook her hips side to side, head slightly turned, “Fuck me, daddy.”

A new kink was unlocked that night among a myriad of emotions you weren’t prepared for. One thing you were prepared for was to fuck her like you owned her. 

Maybe you did, but she owned you too. 

-- -- 

You open your front door, stepping aside for Nayeon to walk through. Tossing the keys on the side table, the door shuts as you take off your shoes. She’s right next to you, arms crossed behind her back, leaning against the wall. She’s waiting for the reaction you give whenever she pisses you off. She does what she does to rile you up, if that isn’t obvious. 

You sigh, shaking your head, standing in front of Nayeon. Her eyes look up, but your gentle hand cups her chin, tilting her head back. When you meet her gaze, there’s something off with her. 

You can read her like a book, very familiar with her moods. Though, this time, you see—and feel—the walls up, something unfamiliar to you. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask softly, searching her face for anything to give her away. Her expression remains neutral, shrugging indifferently. “Something’s wrong.” 

Nayeon pulls away, averting her gaze, “Nothing’s wrong.” Pause. “So are we going to fuck or what? Isn’t that why we’re here?” 

“Not with that attitude,” You say sternly, reaching for her arms behind her back. You bring them around, struggling a bit. “What the fuck is your problem?” 

“There is no fucking problem. If you want to talk about thoughts and feelings, I’m going to pass,” She breaks away, and you let her. “I’ll call Jihyo or Jeongyeon to pick me up.” She turns to walk away, but you reach out quickly, hand wrapping onto her forearm to pull her back. 

Nayeon lets out a small oomph against your chest, glaring at you, unbothered by her attitude (you’ve dealt with worse), “Tell me what the fuck is wrong right now.”

“Or what?” Nayeon huffs, hands on your chest in a feeble attempt to get away from you. 

The movement brings your bodies closer, and accidentally, maybe purposely, she grounds her pelvis against you. It’s with the lightest pressure, but it’s enough for your cock to stir, awakening from her heated stare. You notice the way her breath hitches, body shivering as you pull her closer. 

“Brat,” You murmur, dropping your head to capture her lips with your teeth. She moans softly when you start sucking. Her hands move to interlace behind your neck. You didn’t want to use sex to get it out of her, but she’s being defiant. “Do you get off on making me mad?” 

“Not intentionally, of course.” You feel her smile form, the upward curve of her lips as you slide your tongue in. She sighs dreamily into the kiss, dropping her weight to lean against the wall. You fall into her, practically pinning her. “Is someone going to put me in my place?” 

It’s a rhetorical question because there has only been one person to put her in her place. 

You. 

This evening could have played out in two ways. The first, being the doting lover you’re familiar with, praising her softly like a secret only between you and her, taking your time to draw out every moan and sigh against your lips. The second, the one you’re leaning towards, being the indifferent, apathetic lover, uncaring of if she cums, fucking her until she begs for you, pussy deliciously tight to force you to breed her, claim her, because she’s yours. 

“Why not that tool you were all over at the party?” The question catches her off guard, body tensing at the thought that you caught her. She wanted you to catch her though, she has always wanted to be wanted by you. “You knew I was watching across the room,” Pulling away as you tower over her.

“It wasn’t like that,” Nayeon rushes out, the excuse you’ve heard multiple times before. The false panic in her eyes means she knew exactly what she was doing to get a reaction out of you. “We were just talking.” 

“I don’t believe that,” You click your tongue, the image of her with someone else like that sparks a possessive desire. “That wasn’t very good of you, baby.” Void of any affection associated with the pet name. Under the dim light of your hallway, you see her eyes dilate and her breathing picks up. She wants you and fuck do you want her too. “Room. Now.” 

Nayeon nods obediently. You reward her with a soft, chaste kiss. She tries her best to keep your lips together, but you tap her hip twice and she pulls away. “Daddy.” She whines, pouting in hopes it’ll get her more than you’re giving. You thought she’d last longer before using her nickname for you. 

“Don’t be a brat,” Your eyes narrow, challenging her because if she wants to act out even more, you’d just have to punish her. “Go to the room now.” Nayeon’s eyes widen at your tone, nodding once before walking down the hallway. 

You tilt your head side-to-side, stretching the muscles before making a quick stop in the kitchen. You know you’ll both be exhausted whenever you finish, so you might as well at least have water nearby. You’ll find the energy to make her food in the morning, or there’s always takeaway. With two water bottles in hand, you kick your room door open to Nayeon perched on the edge of your bed, topless, only leaving her red lace bottoms, dress tossed haphazardly on the chair. 

“For later, okay?” Momentarily breaking out of character because you still care for her, and her well-being will always be your top priority. She sends you a grateful smile before you place the bottles on the dresser. When you meet her on the bed, she moves to swing her leg over yours, but you shake your head. “Not yet, baby. You weren’t very good back there.” 

“But, but,” Nayeon’s voice trembles, biting her lip. “I didn’t mean it!” 

“Then why did you act out? Do I not give you what you want?” You gently push Nayeon off to her original position. 

“You do!” She says desperately, nodding her head. 

“Then why? Why him?” You taunt, deciding how far you want to go with her tonight. Something’s still wrong, and you need to know what. You want the reason, the confession, because she doesn’t keep secrets from you. You see the wheels turning, unsure if whatever she has to say would matter. It does matter to you. “So what is it?” 

“Because I wanted your attention,” Nayeon confesses before she jumps on you, landing perfectly on your already hard cock. She moans at the contact, grinding slightly before your hands find themselves on her hips, guiding her movement. “I wanted you to remind me who I belong to.” 

“And who’s that?” You say lazily, tongue trailing against her lower lip before dipping inside, swirling that she grounds harder. 

“You,” Voice dropping low, seductively adding, “Daddy.” 

You have to still make her pay her retribution. She’s almost there, telling you the real reason, and you’ll get it out of her. You easily lift her body off yours, smirking at the whine and huff when you pull away as you lay her on your stomach against your lap. “I still have to punish you, baby.” You rest your hand on her back, ghosting over her skin until you reach her low back. 

“But daddy,” Nayeon huffs, raising her hips in a feeble attempt to get your hand where she wants. “It didn’t mean anything,” She repeats, squirming on your lap. 

Your hand goes lower, hovering over her buttcheek, “It meant something to me,” You say pensively. Curious, prodding, “Is that why you wanted me to fill in instead of Seoyeon-unnie? You didn’t want me to go on my date.”

You don’t hear a response. You swiftly bring your hand down to her bottom, a resounding smack echoes through the room. “Well?” 

Silence again, which would result in another slap to the other cheek. She muffled a moan into the bedsheets, refusing to budge. 

Bingo. 

Her pride is her biggest downfall, ego constantly needing to be stroked. She loves the attention and adoration from fans, thriving off the praise, knowing that it’s all for her. She would rather suffer through the pain than have to admit she was jealous. 

The center of attention, the one in the limelight, spotlight shining on her and only her. She craves that from you, to be the center of your world, but ever since Suji came into the picture, she’s scared that there might be someone else, crashing like a meteor on unstable ground she’s never had. 

You continue with the slaps, easing the sting with light rubs. You know she’s soaked, the small dark circle forming on her underwear. You’re not faring any better, cock tenting against the fabric. 

After the seventh hit, Nayeon moans, body shaking wantonly in frustration. “Fuck fuck, please, please.”

“Tell me the truth.” Coercion isn’t the best method, manipulative by any definition, but you had no other choice. 

“Fine, fine.” You relent, hand halting mid-air. “I didn’t want you to go. You’re supposed to be mine,” She cries, breath uneven as she tries to compose herself. 

Your hand drops. Her body flinches when she feels it against her skin, but continues to wait, anticipating your next move. Your chest squeezes at the confession because she’s never been this vulnerable, open, willing to express her feelings for you.

You give in, to her, to this, the urge to suddenly show her who owns you becomes too great. You pull her up, laying her on the bed as you fall in between her legs. 

“Baby,” You murmur, leaning forward to brush your lips against her ear, “You’re being so good. I am yours,” Her body shivers, hips rolling up into nothing as she seeks some kind of friction. “I’m yours,” You repeat like a mantra, a reminder of what you’ve always said. “You deserve a reward, okay?” 

Nayeon shakes her head, eyes shooting open, wild with want and desire. “I can’t wait, daddy.” She reaches for your shirt, ripping the buttons, before stopping at your belt. “Inside me, please. I need to feel you.” 

You do nothing to stop her, hands swiftly moving to unbuckle your belt and slipping your cock out of your briefs. You groan when she wraps around your length, stroking lightly. She aims the tip at her opening, against the lace, uncontrollably moaning and panting. 

“Go ahead,” You goad, eyes fixated on your cock rubbing over her. The wetness seeps on you, mouth watering at the sight. You watch as she moves her underwear to the side, lining up your cock perfectly, the warmth and wetness surrounding you has you seeing stars. 

“I’m so wet, daddy,” Nayeon moans loudly, scooting closer to take more of you in. “All for you—fuck.” 

You couldn’t help yourself. She felt too good, too wet, and the tightness suffocates you the second you snap your hips forward, burying your cock to the hilt inside her. The sudden stretch has her head snapping back, screaming into the air. 

“You’re such a slut, always ready for my cock,” You choke out, hands settling on her hips before drawing backwards. Her body squirms, chasing after the sensation of being filled. “So needy tonight, baby.”

“Please, please,” Nayeon begs, doing everything she can to get all of you back inside her. She wants you, wants you so no one else can have you, desperate for the feeling you give her. She thrusts her hips down, sucking you in unexpectedly, that you nearly collapse on top of her. Her arms wrap around you, nails digging into your skin when your length rubs along her walls. “Fuck me. You own me.”

“Mine?” You’re able to catch a breath, holding on to the control you’re trying to keep. 

“Yours.” 

It snaps, breaking the moment she says the word, possessing you to pull back before sliding back in. You lose yourself inside her, each moan and breathy sigh, as you set a steady pace. It’s a beautiful sensation for Nayeon’s pussy hugging your cock perfectly, warm, wet, tight—just for you. 

Her nails trail down, scratching your back enough that you’ll see the damage later. The pain turns you on, snapping your hips, driving your cock through. You nearly falter when your eyes meet hers. It’s akin to love, a word that has been dangerously sitting on the tip of your tongue these past few months. 

“I—fuck,” You stutter out. You can’t tell her how you feel. You can’t. You shouldn’t. You won’t. 

“I love you.” 

You swear you misheard her. The three words forming the sentence that has you over the moon. She says it again, softly, affectionately, because she means it. 

“You love me?” You cease your movements, cock bottoming out inside of her. The snugness of her pussy warms your cock as you wait. She doesn’t hesitate, saying it again and again before pulling your lips to hers. 

“I love you,” Nayeon mumbles, tongue running along your bottom lip. 

“Fuck,” You pull away, hips drawing back before flipping her body over. She raises her hips, the beautiful arch in her back. You tear the lacy garment off, making a silent promise you’ll buy her another later. You’ll buy her whatever she wants. “I love you,” You whisper before sinking in, missing the way her eyes roll back. 

You couldn’t control what happened next as the words triggered her orgasm. Her pussy pulls you in, suffocating you so you wouldn’t leave—not like you had anywhere to go. You’d lose yourself inside her ten times out of ten. 

“Fuck daddy, I’m cumming,” Nayeon screams, panting as her body shudders, pussy tightening and relaxing rhythmically as you groan. You feel the wetness coat your upper thighs, guttural moaning against her hair. “Come inside me, please. I’m yours, yours, oh shit—”

Your stomach tightens, snapping at the way her ass cheeks ripple against your pelvis, moving uncontrollably as she coaxes your orgasm. Your hands grip her muscles, hips erratically thrusting into her as your release floods her, painting every crevice inside her. 

Nayeon leans her head back, enough for you to kiss her forehead. Her hands find yours, interlacing them sweetly as you both try to catch your breath. 

You’re still hard, and you’re feeling particularly giving. She can handle whatever you throw at you, so you gently remove one of your hands from hers, trailing slowly to the apex of her thighs. Her breathing hitches, “What’re you doing?” 

“Another,” You command as you rub through her folds, finding her clit. 

“Wait—wait shit,” The contact catches her by surprise, her body folding forward as you continue your onslaught. 

“Good girl,” You murmur, watching as her hips move in slow figure eights with your cock still inside. Her pussy constricts, finding every angle to hit her favorite spot. And when she does, she mewls and pants. “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

Nayeon turns her head, locking eyes with you as she moves faster along your length. Your fingers aren’t idle, applying heavy pressure that has her going crazy, unsure with what to do with the pleasure flowing through her body. You mouth cum and flicking like a switch, she gushes all over you, forcing you to leave her warmth. 

“Fuck daddy,” Nayeon screams, voice hoarse as you watch her body convulse, back arching and flexing as she squirts more fluid than you’d ever seen. “I need you, please. Something, anything—oh shit!” Your fingers enter her swiftly, massaging her inner muscles as it just gets wetter, drenching your skin and bedsheets. 

“Tell me who owns this pussy,” You say lowly, eyes fixated on the way her butt muscles ripple with every movement of your fingers. 

“You,” She repeats your name over and over, pussy sucking you as she tightens deliciously around them. “God, fuck, you, sir, only you.” 

You replace your fingers with your cock, aiming at her opening before sinking in once again. Her fingers ball into fists, wrinkling the bed sheets as you nearly go feral on her body. She could take it. She wants you like this, crazy, addicted, in love that no one else could fuck her. She needs to feel how much you want her. She only needs you.

“So easy,” You swing a hand back, slapping each cheek with precision. “All you need is my cock, right?” 

“Yes, yes, only yours daddy,” Nayeon nods, easily agreeing to whatever you say. You could call her every name in the book, and she’d comply. She’s your little fucktoy that gets your cock stuffed inside her whenever you want.

You lose it once Nayeon lets out a high-pitched squeal. The orgasm crashes through your body, hips stuttering forcefully into hers as you fill her again, unabashedly rolling your hips to hear her breath staccato. 

Every nerve on your body buzzes, stimulated by Nayeon’s walls pulsing to milk you for all that you have. It hits overstimulation, sucking the breath from you as you regretfully pull out. She whines at the loss of contact, but you lean forward, sweetly kissing her buttcheek, nipping at the skin that she squirms. 

“Ticklish?” You tease, voice light and relaxed. The exhaustion slowly sets in your bones. 

“You know I am,” Nayeon huffs, hips dropping, limbs spread limply. 

You’re still a sick human, and you want to see the result of your activities. You nudge Nayeon’s leg, easily responsive as they spread a little. You bite your tongue at the sight of your essence dribbling out of her swollen lips. It’s hot, filthy to see you all over her. You wish you had a phone nearby to snapshot this into memory, but your mind drifts off to recreating it at a later date.

You yawn, collapsing next to her that she scoots to snuggle into your side. You fight to keep your eyes open because you still have to clean up. Nayeon mumbles something into your skin. You don’t quite catch what she says, softly asking her to repeat it, and you freeze. 

“I love you.”

It’s a finicky thing, this thing between you and Nayeon. Somewhere along the way, you fell for her. Maybe you knew the moment you met her, or maybe you knew that you would at some point in time. Or maybe you knew the night she walked into your office because by then, it had built up between you that that was the final piece of the puzzle to confirm what you’ve known. 

The hormones flow between you, and you can’t help but think that’s the only reason why. You’re an idiot too, “Are you just saying that?” Nayeon’s hand presses into your chest. You open your eyes to her peering over you, hair an unruly mess, “What?”

Nose scrunching, Nayeon rolls her eyes, “You seriously believe I’d throw that around so easily?”

You don’t, but this was Nayeon. You may have been sleeping with her for a while, but you’ve heard the girls talk about their flings. You could almost guarantee that she’s only been sleeping with you, but they know how to hide things. 

“Stupid,” Nayeon shakes her head when you ask again. “Did you just say it?”

You did. You do. It’s not just the hormones causing you to act like such a love struck idiot. You weigh the situation, knowing that whatever answer you give will change your relationship. It won’t be an illicit affair between an idol and her manager. It’ll be hard because you’d still have to keep it a secret, unless you changed companies, something you’d be willing to do. 

“No,” You send an easy smile, “I love you. I’m in love with you.” 

Nayeon’s face lights up, beaming with all her teeth showing, eyes crinkling in the corners. She kisses you, softly, tenderly, a contrast to how you were no less than five minutes ago. 

“I love you,” Nayeon says quietly, an unspoken vow passed between you. She understands what this means, being together for real, that there will be hardships, but she’ll do them with you. 

You sigh contentedly against her lips, whispering those same three words, full of intent and promise. 

“No more dates with Suji-unnie,” Nayeon sing-songs, confident after pecking you on the lips, smug at accomplishing her mission of making you hers. 

-- -- -- 

(pardon any mistakes or typos, lol)

[kyri45]

✨ShadowPeach Bio Parents Bio AU Q&A! 28/09✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

Anonimo ha chiesto: I am going to ask you to make a difficult decision… freenoodles or Shadowpeach

(Freenoodles, in my opinion, is just barely better than shadowpeach. Just because of how gay they are in season five. I mean, look at them and tell me they aren’t married.)

Sooo I go with shadowpeach. Freenoodle is like my comfort shit. so many cute and funny shenanigans, for me they are just the married couple who would probably have the healtiest of the relationship. They have teh experience, they went already throught all the "obliviouss-ness" and the "what if they don't love me" yadda yadda.

But Shadowpeach. Ow man. I thought the ineffable housband ship was complex. but god. oh god. how wrong I was. like- these two went from friends, to brothers, to lovers, to enemies, to friends again and to be lover again. They fucked up so much nothing will ever be the same. But they still weak for each other. They are at each other throat and also they know the other in the most intimate way. they are immortal. One of them fucking killed the other. They thought the other left them and betrayed and went both drama to forget (one choose found family, the other murder but anyway-)

Like- WHAT SHIP CAN BE MORE COMPLEX THAN THIS?????

Anonimo ha chiesto: Does MK have a favorite between his bio parents

oUH NO POOR MONKEYS. He doesn't, but he has a favourite depending on the context. Like, for training he prefers Macaque because he explains a lot better than Wukong, but sparring with Wukong is much funnier, but he prefers Macaque scratches and grooming, but he loves Wukong squeezing hugs, etc...

Anonimo ha chiesto: You know, I just realized something. So you know how people in the fandom give Macaque lotus nicknames since his ears kind of resemble lotus flowers. Well since MK has both Wukong and Macaque's ears that kind of makes MK's ears resemble Peace Lilies (which is kind of ironic since MK is the Harbinger of Chaos)

Aww I guess they do look like them!

Anonimo ha chiesto: I may sound a little to mean but Mk din't suspect a thing aout macaques eye? he has multiple forms were his eye is a cross i mean, i would think smt happend to that eye but that just me uu I LOVE UR ART IT MAKES ME WANT TO KMS /POS

He surely suspected something happened to Mac eye but he didn't know how that happened.

@queen-of-purple-roses ha chiesto: I have a question and you don’t have to answer it if you don’t have too; since we’ve seen Macaque feel guilty with how he treated MK in the past, does Monkey King feel guilty about all the dangerous moments that MK was put in, since most if not all of the fighting ends up on MK’s plate and not Wukong’s.

Oh absolutely, the more time passes he feels more and more guilty.

@catbox730 ha chiesto: Can we get more MK and Red Son please

mayyyyyybe. If you guys behave

Anonimo ha chiesto: It would be funny seeing MK‘s dads going to a doctor with him for like getting his wisdom teeth removed or something xD

The parents being extremely worried that something will go wrong while MK is super chill. When the dentist comes out of the operating room they grab him and ask him if he survived while MK is just eating ice cream post-surgery.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Will MK ever fight against one of his parents in a serious battle ? Or be forced to fight one of them ?

mmm. Probably. Maybe in the future they have a discussion. Nothing maybe too serious. But not in the AU plans.

What is Wukongs and/or Macaques biggest nightmare(s) I imagine it would be something like seeing MK die or sacrificing himself again or something like that

I think Wukong is more terrified of being alone. So actually I think it would be worse for him that MK doesn't want to see him anymore.

Anonimo ha chiesto: so who is going to be MK‘s hero that he worships ? I don’t know if he still sees Monkey king in that way after finding out that he is basically his dad and hearing the past the fight with Macaque….

Maybe he wont have any hero. Maybe worshipping someone is not such a healthy thing to do. ( I'm not talking in a religious way of course, I meant worshipping a living normal person)

@emmais333 ha chiesto: Love your MK art. One question how many fights from Wukong and Mac does MK overhear on accident

He heard the first one (and the past one through the vision) then Wkong and Mac started to teleport far away enough so he wont be able to hear them discuss.

Anonimo ha chiesto: What if MK catches Mac and Wukong in the act, not visually, but audibly, like hearing it when going to flower feuit mountain, finding the monkeys in a pile, all traumatized. Or is it too soon? Do they get drunk enough to not care? Do they even drink?

in the....act? (sorry I don't understand stuff if it's not explicited said, like I can't understand double meanings if that was what you meant)

Anonimo ha chiesto: I LOVE YOUR STORY, REALLY!!!! I reread a lot. So lovely. And the Baby MK, I just want to hug so badly 🥺 ( I think Macaque become Protecting mode and he won't let me do it. ) You draw Baby MK so so so cute. My heart can't handle it.❤️ Maybe it's a terrifying idea but I would like know your thoughts. I think that Macaque sleeps very quietly, like a man in a coffin.  + Macaque fell into a very deep DEEP sleep. (maybe because he was tired from fighting demons to protect Baby MK or get injured or something?) = How do you think Sun Wokung will react?

o my god NO DON'T GIVE HIM AN HEARTH ATTACK (heloses one of their immortalities for having the most horrrendous of jumpscares)

@raspberrymixin ha chiesto: AHHH I LOVE YOU SHADOW PEACH BIO AU OMG ITS TO FREAKEN CUTEEEE AAHH I just melt into a puddle! Love you art and make sure to take breaks- anyway- I find it cute how redson interacts with MK I can just imagine him giving him stuff and little gifts and Mk just confused on why but takes it anyway because of friendship and maybe a sign he's trusting more- but MK is just oblivious to the courting- And maybe redson would ask Wukong, Macaque, Tang or pigsy to allow it maybe? And I also love the slow burn! It's just cute on how Macaque and Wukong make each other blush! Awww it's just to cute! I hope you're doing amazing and have a good night/day

Oh man MK would not be able to read a single clue and just think it's a symbol of friendship or wathever. O my god he really did take from his parents (all of them)

fayeangel25 ha chiesto: YOUUU UFUFFHH WHEN I GET YOUUUUU anyways, I wanna see wukong asking macaque about the story of him and mac ( after mamacaque storytelled his lil baby mk ) , cuz i wanna see more flustered macaque!!! Also, 👏 EATING 👏 THIS 👏 AU 👏 UP!!

Hehe he would be a little shy about it. But Macaque is a theater kid so for a bigger audience I guess he would do it.

Anonimo ha chiesto: I feel like I’m new here. What is Court napping?

Consensual Kidnapping with the intend of flirting with another demon.

Anonimo ha chiesto: How many people want to court MK now that he is a real stone monkey AND the son of Wukong and Macaque ?

mmm. Only people close to MK knows that he's the bio kid of shadowpeach. So for now only Red Son

Anonimo ha chiesto: I bet PIF would try to wait for MK to lose the good guy ‘phase’ since she went through that before lmao (forget being good, convert to villainy in the name of love)

Awwww she would!!! But MK is just too good hearted to hurt a fly. (yeah I know he technically has a kill count still-)

Anonimo ha chiesto: MK would obviously call Pigsy "Papa" so what would MK call Tang and Sandy?

I think he would actually call Pigsy "dad" since it's what he calls him that in the show. Maybe it's Tang that gets to be called Papa. I think Sandy is more like an uncle.

@mage-of-words ha chiesto: When will Wukong purpose to Macaque?

WOW- HOLD ON THERE. LET HIM TAKE HIM TO DINNER FIRST.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Omg I wonder if Macaque and Monkey King ever saw MK get really hurt during a battle with a new demon. RIP the Demon bc two feral Monkeys are after them now bc they hurt their kid.

Them to said demon: So you have choosen.... death.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Hear me out, Mac and Wukong in a get along shirt for a day (lost a bet to MK and he planned this too) LOVE YOUR ART TOO ITS SO SCRUMDIDDLYUMPTIOUCIOUS

this is an old ask, sorry for taking so long to answer. But I would say that at this point of the story Wukong would probably be at cloud 9 being squished to super soft macaque all day. Macaque would be like a kitten undecided on wheter he loves or hate the situation (doesn't really likes un-warned physical touch.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Hoi there, I found you again! (Following you on Insta as well because your art is awesome ^^)

Reading your LMK ShadowPeaches comics and they are fun. And now my brain can't help but make up scenarios, one like this one. Oh my, MK is a cute little baby! (^///^) Oh my, MK is a little baby!! ('O_O) Welp, Pigsy is going to kill someone unless Wukong gives baby MK into his arms to calm down and be busy being a dad than a raging Hulk. (:P) Also, I imagine MK accidentally shrinking himself, (Wukong decided to play hide and seek with it only to later on regret it). Wukong would freaking out about it, and Macaque then shook him violently while yelling into his face for losing MK. Then out of Nowhere, Nezha shows up at the door frame and be like 'Um, hey guys. Is this yours?' Points at his nose where tiny baby bean MK was, clinging onto Nezha's nose while giggling.

askjajvbks that's a lovely scene! Unfortunately Nehza can't know yet about MK, but maybe he will...

@lara-legomonkiekid 💜:Hey! I'm here to ask permission!Can I make an art Drawing of your Bio parents AU Meeting One of my AU's?Please?(Mostly Suposed to be Meeting One of my OC's!) (Love Your Art and Comics!!!!)(⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)(⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

Yeah sure! just be sure to tag me and link the masterpost of the AU

Anonimo ha chiesto: I find it funny how your shadowpeach bio au came from a joke and now.....wow Your art is amazing

My friend even tried to warn me. BUT I DIDN'T LISTEN

Anonimo ha chiesto: I need Freenoodles talking late at night about MK's new situation Will they be worried? Happy? I don't think Pigsy will take it very well that just when he and MK accepted each other as Father and Son, he is (partly) taken away by his biological dads.

Pigsy was mostly worried that Wukong or Macaque would hurt in any way MK. Both ahim and Tang after they saw how much the 2 care about MK calmed down, still they just hope they don't mess up things.

Anonimo ha chiesto: parenting it not just about having fun with your children, but also making sure there are boundaries even if the child isn’t happy about it. So, how would it go if Macaque and Wukong would try to ground MK 😂

MK is a little old for being grounded I think but if they were to do it maybe with something like no training for a week or smt. He's still an adult (i know we sometimes forget)

Anonimo ha chiesto: MK trying to prank his parents and wake them up with a loud instrument or sound. MK forgetting he has sensitive hearing 💀

reverso uno card

Anonimo ha chiesto: Would wukong or MK help macaque in his drawings if he asked 🙃 or if they tried to help him improve

Awww they would!!! Actually what if this creative side of him was something he kind of inherted from Wukong?