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#yet you so often turn out so differently
birdbraintoh · 2 years
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Oh my god okay so we all remember this part of Hollow Mind, right?
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This obviously means that the rest of the grimwalkers, while maybe sharing traits with Caleb, didn’t look as identical to him as Hunter does.
Now I’m no biologist but I have a basic understanding of punnet squares. Our phenotypes are more or less randomly selected during fertilization and they’re passed from parents to kid. And if you have the same parents as your siblings, then you’re more likely to look like them or share traits with them. The only reason you have different traits is because there are so many to choose from and hey, you have brown hair and your sibling has blonde. That’s just how it turned out but you still carry the genes for blonde hair (not a perfect example but we’re also talking about a magical world so whatever)
What if one day Belos was making a new grimwalker. It’s no big deal; He’s done this about a dozen times now. Every single one is looking less and less like him, and Belos is getting increasingly frustrated. He keeps them around because, well, Caleb only had 206 bones and he can only make so many grimwalkers. Might as well manipulate the ones you have, right?
Belos completes the ritual and he stands at the head of the grave as the grimwalker sits up straight from the dirt.
And it’s the striking image of teenage Philip.
He kills that one quickly and doesn’t make another for a while. (Tags)
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herebecritters · 2 months
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Please understand that, more often than not, works of fiction are a fictional exploration of concepts and ideas rather than a declaration of morality
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cheekblush · 6 months
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i'd rather be friendless than to constantly have my boundaries disrespected
#i am so frustrated and annoyed rn#at the beginning of this year my ex best friend reached out to me and i cautiously let her back into my life#things were going great but now she turned a harmless topic into a full blown discussion even though i told her multiple times that i no..#.. longer want to discuss this matter but she kept going & then accusing me of continuing the discussion as well#and tbh i really should've stopped engaging with her messages much sooner but it's so annoying when someone sends you lots of messages with#their opinion although i mentioned several times that i want to drop the topic & then i'm just expected to shut up lol#she didn't respect my wish to move and made a huge fuss about nothing#i stopped replying to her since yesterday bc i really had enough & i should've just left her on read much sooner#but her messages were truly annoying me#her last message now says that we often have different opinions & she thinks she's more optimistic than me & that makes it hard for her to..#talk to me..... i was so dumbfounded when i read that this morning#our initial conversation was about whether a song is more pop or rnb....... & she twisted that into me being negative lmao#she was so obsessed with being right that she couldn't drop the topic even though i told her how exhausting the convo was for me#and like it's such an irrelevant topic... imagine being that obsessed with always being right 😭#idc anymore i'd rather be a negative bitch than someone who disrespects others' boundaries <3#i thought she changed for the better but she's so self-righteous opinionated & stubborn it's awful#i calmly told her that her behavior is bothering me & we easily could've just moved on but she kept going on and on#and she herself admitted that it's one of her flaws that she always has to be right & she's being petty & yet she didn't stop 🤡#even writing all this down feels so silly to me bc the initial topic was sooooo trivial#am i supposed to feel sorry for thinking a song was rnb rather than pop???? like go touch some grass please#she even sent me a screenshot of the wikipedia page of the song to prove that it's rnb & it literally said synth pop & rnb lol#but i wasn't even mad about that her not respecting my wish to drop the topic & move on even though i said it multiple times really pissed..#me off though.... like girl just let it go it's not that deep!!!#but apparently i'm negative & pessimistic for having a different opinion than her 🤷🏼‍♀️#like imagine starting a fight over smth SO IRRELEVANT but i'm the negative one sure lmao#okay i just needed to get this off my chest bc i don't have anyone to talk to about this & it's just ridiculous to me#☁️
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mcmansionhell · 2 months
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we've found it folks: mcmansion heaven
Hello everyone. It is my pleasure to bring you the greatest house I have ever seen. The house of a true visionary. A real ad-hocist. A genuine pioneer of fenestration. This house is in Alabama. It was built in 1980 and costs around $5 million. It is worth every penny. Perhaps more.
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Now, I know what you're thinking: "Come on, Kate, that's a little kooky, but certainly it's not McMansion Heaven. This is very much a house in the earthly realm. Purgatory. McMansion Purgatory." Well, let me now play Beatrice to your Dante, young Pilgrim. Welcome. Welcome, welcome, welcome.
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It is rare to find a house that has everything. A house that wills itself into Postmodernism yet remains unable to let go of the kookiest moments of the prior zeitgeist, the Bruce Goffs and Earthships, the commune houses built from car windshields, the seventies moments of psychedelic hippie fracture. It is everything. It has everything. It is theme park, it is High Tech. It is Renaissance (in the San Antonio Riverwalk sense of the word.) It is medieval. It is maybe the greatest pastiche to sucker itself to the side of a mountain, perilously overlooking a large body of water. Look at it. Just look.
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The inside is white. This makes it dreamlike, almost benevolent. It is bright because this is McMansion Heaven and Gray is for McMansion Hell. There is an overbearing sheen of 80s optimism. In this house, the credit default swap has not yet been invented, but could be.
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It takes a lot for me to drop the cocaine word because I think it's a cheap joke. But there's something about this example that makes it plausible, not in a derogatory way, but in a liberatory one, a sensuous one. Someone created this house to have a particular experience, a particular feeling. It possesses an element of true fantasy, the thematic. Its rooms are not meant to be one cohesive composition, but rather a series of scenes, of vastly different spatial moments, compressed, expanded, bright, close.
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And then there's this kitchen for some reason. Or so you think. Everything the interior design tries to hide, namely how unceasingly peculiar the house is, it is not entirely able to because the choices made here remain decadent, indulgent, albeit in a more familiar way.
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Rare is it to discover an interior wherein one truly must wear sunglasses. The environment created in service to transparency has to somewhat prevent the elements from penetrating too deep while retaining their desirable qualities. I don't think an architect designed this house. An architect would have had access to specifically engineered products for this purpose. Whoever built this house had certain access to architectural catalogues but not those used in the highest end or most structurally complex projects. The customization here lies in the assemblage of materials and in doing so stretches them to the height of their imaginative capacity. To borrow from Charles Jencks, ad-hoc is a perfect description. It is an architecture of availability and of adventure.
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A small interlude. We are outside. There is no rear exterior view of this house because it would be impossible to get one from the scrawny lawn that lies at its depths. This space is intended to serve the same purpose, which is to look upon the house itself as much as gaze from the house to the world beyond.
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Living in a city, I often think about exhibitionism. Living in a city is inherently exhibitionist. A house is a permeable visible surface; it is entirely possible that someone will catch a glimpse of me they're not supposed to when I rush to the living room in only a t-shirt to turn out the light before bed. But this is a space that is only exhibitionist in the sense that it is an architecture of exposure, and yet this exposure would not be possible without the protection of the site, of the distance from every other pair of eyes. In this respect, a double freedom is secured. The window intimates the potential of seeing. But no one sees.
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At the heart of this house lies a strange mix of concepts. Postmodern classicist columns of the Disney World set. The unpolished edge of the vernacular. There is also an organicist bent to the whole thing, something more Goff than Gaudí, and here we see some of the house's most organic forms, the monolith- or shell-like vanity mixed with the luminous artifice of mirrors and white. A backlit cave, primitive and performative at the same time, which is, in essence, the dialectic of the luxury bathroom.
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And yet our McMansion Heaven is still a McMansion. It is still an accumulation of deliberate signifiers of wealth, very much a construction with the secondary purpose of invoking envy, a palatial residence designed without much cohesion. The presence of golf, of wood, of masculine and patriarchal symbolism with an undercurrent of luxury drives that point home. The McMansion can aspire to an art form, but there are still many levels to ascend before one gets to where God's sitting.
If you like this post and want more like it, support McMansion Hell on Patreon for as little as $1/month for access to great bonus content including a discord server, extra posts, and livestreams.
Not into recurring payments? Try the tip jar! Student loans just started back up!
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airagorncharda · 8 months
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For any followers of mine still living with parents, guardians, family, or even just with roommates and who've never lived alone and/or fully on your own terms (whether ye be 16 or 60), I have TWO pieces of wisdom for you for when you eventually do:
You WILL discover that you were wrong about some shit you felt pretty strongly about before. Maybe you never realized how often your mom ACTUALLY cleans the bathroom and it turns out she asked for help really rarely. Maybe, much as it grates to admit, putting $50 into a different savings account every paycheck really IS the ONLY way to save any fucking money. Maybe that big rolling trashcan you resented your roommate putting in the kitchen, and got in that big fight about, really WAS super convenient and now you have to buy one for yourself after they move out and take it with them. Maybe blanching vegetables so they retain their color when cooked actually DOES enhance a meal, pretty food slaps actually, and the reason you didn't think it was worth the effort is because you were depressed.
You WILL also discover new shit that works SO much better for you than everything you'd been taught. Maybe you'll discover that dropping trash off at a recycling center at your convenience works way better for your brain than getting it picked up on a set day. Maybe you'll realize you don't actually hate tofu, you just hate how your family cooks tofu. Maybe you'll love being able to walk around the house naked whenever you want. Maybe you'll find you thrive in a space with giant framed nude photography, or taxidermy animals, or fandom themed Everything. Maybe you'll realize that keeping the thermostat set like 5 degrees colder (or hotter) than is typical makes you sleep better than you ever have before in your whole life.
The point of this wisdom is: Stay humble, but also, stay excited. There's no point pretending you weren't wrong about shit you were wrong about, just eat the crow and move on. But also, there's so much to look forward to about your own space-- even more than you could ever imagine when you don't have it yet.
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augustinewrites · 4 months
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dress + nanami
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“i bought you something.”
you frown slightly, eyeing the sleek box that nanami places on the bed.
“but i didn’t get you anything…”
he simply smiles, gently taking your hand and smoothing his thumb over the gold band adorning your ring finger. “allowing me to marry you this afternoon was the greatest gift you could ever give me.”
memories of your little ceremony still linger in the forefront of your mind. you’d married him atop a small rooftop garden filled with this season’s blooms, surrounded by your closest friends and family. you’d never been an extremely sentimental person, but the way he’d gazed at you and whispered vows meant for your ears and yours alone…you’d hold that close to your heart forever.
“no take backs, by the way,” you say when you feel tears prick at the back of your eyes once more. “you’re stuck with me, even though i snore.” 
“your snores are adorable. like a bunny holding a chainsaw.”
“hey!” you laugh, letting him wrap his arms around you from behind, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. 
“just let your husband spoil you, hm?”
nanami loves to spoil you. he’s always had such lovely taste, picking soft, pretty things that catch his eye in shop windows— a pair of leather gloves, a stylish sweater, a diamond bracelet. each gift is thoughtful, always complimenting you perfectly,
you lift the lid of the box, peeling back layers of tissue paper to reveal a delicate, silky white dress.
“kento…” you breathe, feeling his lips curl into a smile against your skin. gingerly, you lift the feather-light dress by dainty straps, taking in the cowl neck and tasteful high slit. 
simple, yet elegant, like him. 
“for you to wear to the reception,” he murmurs, pressing a light kiss to your shoulder. “do you like it?”
“i love it,” you tell him truthfully, turning to look at him. “help me put it on?” 
your husband couldn’t look more pleased, especially when deft fingers undo the back of your bespoke wedding gown and he sees what you’d snuck on underneath.
but nanami is nothing if not efficient, clearing his throat before helping you step out of your current dress and into your new one, the material gliding against your skin like butter.
“you’re a vision,” he whispers, brushing another kiss to the back of your neck. with heat in your cheeks, you turn in his embrace, bringing your lips up to his. 
the rest of the world begins to melt away, as it often does when you’re with him. but it’s different now. it’s different because in the eyes of the law, you’ve chosen him and he’s chosen you. 
so you share eager kisses in the warm lamplight of the hotel room, his hands gentle as they slide over the smooth material of your dress. 
and eventually, up the slit resting atop your thigh. his warm hands rest on your bare skin, setting off sparks of pleasure up your spine.
“we shouldn’t,” you breathe as he plants open mouthed kisses on the hollow of your throat. “we need to check on our guests— you know satoru gets weepy when he’s had more than one drink.” 
nanami pulls back to look at you, pupils blown with desire as he takes in your smeared lipstick and wide-eyed stare.
he responds by pulling you close with his grip on your hips, a groan slipping past your lips as he does so. 
“they can wait,” he tells you, walking you backwards until your knees buckle against the edge of the bed. “i’ve waited long enough to be alone with my wife.”
he’s waited for this moment even when he hadn’t realized he’d wanted this, wanted you. he’s wanted it since the days you’d shared at jujutsu tech, when he’d been a besotted schoolboy, pining after his classmate. 
nanami’s always been a patient man—
he yanks the skirt of your new dress up around your hips and kisses a trail down your chest.
— except when he’s not.
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foreverdolly · 10 days
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ೃ࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part 2 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』
summary: destined to one another since conception, your very life belongs to feyd rautha. as a token of good will you are sent to the strange planet of giedi prime a week before your wedding ceremony, only to learn that it is far more hostile than you imagined it would be. a failed assassination attempt has tempers flaring and sparks flying when it is decided to be safer to sleep alongside feyd. you hate to admit it, but he has played the part of a "protector" better than the guards who were tasked to watch over you. whilst you have been dreading this union all of your life, feyd has been anticipating it. meeting you as children had left him awe-struck. . . and a bit obsessed.
warnings: !SMUT HEAVY IN FUTURE PARTS!, feyd is super overprotective in this fic and kills multiple people in your honor, blood and gore, it's a dark romance folks, political marriage, forced proximity, temporary unrequited love, a lil dubious consent in some scenes, there's a lot of talk about breeding, enemies to lovers (in your mind, not his), there's a "who did this to you" scene, knife play, blood kink, breeding kink heavy, lots of scent marking/marking.
word count: 4.5k
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Legs tangled in gray sheets. The lightning-quick flash of a silver dagger, held by a pale hand.
The images in the dream are more like fragments- impossible to discern and decipher. On the bed, asleep and vulnerable. . .
There’s you.
And then Feyd wakes up, heart hammering in his chest so hard he can feel it in his throat. Slowly his fingers crawl up, up, up the expanse of the bed in search of something. In search of warmth, of you. Nothing. He’s just as alone in his room as he was when he drifted off into sleep. He lays awake the rest of the night, tossing and turning with worry.
This dream felt more like a warning than just another disjointed nightmare. It felt real. He was used to having dreams every now and again which clearly depicted a future outcome. He saw you in his dreams quite often, more so once he was no longer a boy-child.
If someone thought to hurt you… he’d just have to hurt them first.
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The customs you and your people practiced were completely different to those that were normal on Geidi Prime. You watched one of your ladies-in-waiting as she brought over another small bowl of sweet smelling bath salts, dumping it in and using her hand to properly dissolve them. For a moment you felt self conscious, running your fingers through your hair as you looked at their perfect complexions and shaved heads. What did they see when they looked at you? Someone beautiful and strange. . . or an alien?
Still, you would eventually have to disrobe and bathe. Pressing your luck and refusing their help would only solidify your place as an outsider. You were sure that whispers of your arrival were already spreading like wildfire, and it was almost guaranteed that no one was happy about it. An Atreides amongst Harkonnen’s? You were nothing more than a pariah on their industrial wasteland of a planet.
The air was even more acrid in your lungs than it had been the night before, and while the smell of the rose body oils and salts were thick and hazy in your room, you could still catch the scent of pollution. Already you missed the cool, crisp air of Caladan. You missed your horses, your parents and your brother to the point of pain. This was not where you belonged. Not here in Geidi Prime. Not here with Feyd-Rautha.
The urge to cry yourself hoarse was practically undeniable, and yet you somehow managed to resist. You were late to breakfast already, and surely the Baron was making some unsavory comments about your family and their taught “manners”. So you untied the front of your nightdress and shimmied out of it, letting the soft cotton pool at the ground beneath your feet. The women couldn’t help but gawk at the tiny imperfections they saw there- a beauty mark you’d had since you were a child, a scar you’d received while training with Gurney. You weren’t used to feeling so self conscious, and so you were quick to grab one of the women’s extended hands so that you could sit down in the murky bath water.
They rubbed floral smelling soaps into your hair and on your skin, making sure to handle you as though you were as fragile as porcelain. You wished they would scrub you raw. Even then they wouldn’t be able to cleanse you of your fears. You were in the hands of the Harkonnen’s now.
No one could save you.
“We are not very used to styling hair, my lady. It might not be to your liking.” One of the women said anxiously. The way that her hands shook as she gripped the hairbrush was not lost on you.
How cruelly were they treated here? Or even worse- what did she think of the Atreides family? What lies had they poisoned these people’s impressionable minds with? You didn’t care to dwell too much on such thoughts. Reaching out you gently removed the brush from her hands, flashing her the kindest smile you could muster before shaking your head.
“Leave this to me then. Why don’t you pick something for me to wear from my things?” Your bags were still packed, lying exactly where a few servants had laid them last night. You had denied every offer to have them unpacked for you.
Denial. You refused to believe that you were actually stuck here. This would never be your home. It couldn’t be.
“He’s not here,” Feyd was sitting at a long, slate-gray table by himself. The food on his plate had barely been touched, but he had busied himself with chopping the meat up into miniscule pieces, too small to even fit on the prongs of his fork. “If you were planning on trying to make a good impression, you can forget about it. He always has his food sent to his quarters.”
You thanked the two ladies that had shown you through the colorless halls under your breath, moving to sit on the other side of the table. At least eight chairs separated you from the Na-baron and it still wasn’t enough. You wished you were on an entirely different planet, lightyears away from the Harkonnen scum.
The room was practically empty aside from the large dining room table. No art decorated the walls or rugs to cover the floor. It was all cold, black marble with white accents.
“I don’t care, actually.” And you were being truthful. You didn’t care about getting on the Baron’s good side any more than you cared about getting on Feyd’s.
He smiled then, staring at you long and hard before licking one of his black painted canines. He was amused by the blase way you brushed off his uncle so easily. Indifference wasn’t something he was used to, especially not when everyone in the galaxy had tried so hard to get on their good sides. People tended to tread lightly as far as the Harkonnens were concerned. They were as wealthy as they were cunning.
“Be careful, little Atreides. Saying things like that might get you hurt around here.” His gruff voice was but a whisper now, and suddenly you felt as though there weren’t twelve feet of dead-air separating the two of you.
You had picked up your fork, ready to eat whatever bland food had been prepared for you, but froze at his words. Heat rose to your cheeks and you were quick to lean back in the ornate high-backed chair, the cool iron seeping into your back through your clothes.
“Do you mean to threaten me?” Your words were icy, tongue sharp and ready to give him a proper lashing.
“It’s not a threat, darling.” He was practically purring, reveling in the joy of referring to you whilst using a pet name. It suddenly looked as though a switch had been turned on, his eyes narrowing on you. “I know him far better than you do. He’s killed people for far less. Be careful.” There seemed to be something he wasn’t telling you. There was genuine warning in his tone.
A pause.
“Please.” And then he went back to eating.
So were you supposed to act gutted at his uncle’s absence? You picked up the fork and took a bite of whatever had been put on your plate. It wasn’t at all what you were used to. Even the food tasted. . . fake. The meat tasted like it had been pumped full of chemicals and was mealy in your mouth, like sand. Still, you swallowed despite your distaste and shoved the plate away from you.
“Who have you assigned to be my sparring partner? I’m sure that my father made your uncle aware that I train daily, correct?” If you didn’t physically exert yourself and blow off some steam then you were bound to get no sleep tonight.
Last night you had tossed and turned, unable to stay asleep when your body was constantly alerting you to possible dangers. Even now you were on high alert, eyes locked on the knife that sat on the right side of Feyd’s plate. Your own fingers danced towards yours it you watched. Waited. Worried.
“Training?” He tilted his head again, eyes narrowed in disbelief. You could almost see the cogs turning as he mulled over your words. “What good would training do you now? If there are any threats then I am here to protect you- that’s my duty as your husband.”
Ah, yes. Why would a woman train when she could just sit back and play the part of a perfect little wife instead? You could spit.
“Would you rather I just hunt down one of your servants and kill him for sport?” You hated that he was so good at getting a reaction out of you. Maybe you were acting too much like a brat, but you wanted to see him squirm. Seeing him mad must be better than seeing him. . . like this.
For a second he sat there, arms perched nonchalantly over the armrests of his chair, staring at you with a crooked smile. You jumped in surprise when a chuckle escaped him, the act itself so out of place, so surprising that all you could do was stare in horror. The chuckles soon morphed into frenzied laughter, and he was quick to lean back in his seat so that he could place a hand on his chest.
“Was that funny to you?” You spoke through gritted teeth.
He watched the muscle in your jaw clench and unclench with wild eyes, sucking in a deep breath in the hopes of calming himself. Still, to hear such a beautiful woman speak such hideous words. . . it was wonderful, bordering on perverted.
“If you do kill a servant, please make sure I’m there to watch.”
He was too busy watching your face to notice the knife that you slid into the sleeve of your dress. With a huff you stood up, your skirts dryly brushing along the ground as you started to make your way out of the large room.
“I require a trainer.” You tried to mimic your mother’s tone, straightening your shoulders as you turned to look at him.
Lady Jessica always had a way of commanding a room. She was powerful, your mother. You needed to channel that same power now.
“You’ll train with me then,” He stood up from the table, the height and build of him alone nearly causing you to take a step back. You’d forgotten how large he was. How formidable. “Consider it a wedding gift.”
This had you balking, mouth opening and closing as you tried to think of some way to refuse. He was already stalking past you though, ignoring whatever retorts you were bound to make.
“I recommend getting changed. . . Unless you want me to tear that dress to shreds.”
That awful, ugly, no good- 
“Bastard!” You whispered under your breath, wadding up your dress just to angrily toss it onto your bed. 
You sank to your knees, braiding your fingers into your hair so that you could give it a few good yanks. He was doing this to fuck with your head. All of this was calculated on his part, it had to be. Was it all just to get a rise out of you? Or did he truly want to try and hurt you? You couldn’t figure him out, and that boiled your blood. All Harkonnens were cunning, blood thirsty schemers. You wouldn’t put it past him to be unhappy with the marriage arrangement, choosing to resort to violence in order to end things. 
‘Now. Now is the time to strike.’ 
You’d already hidden the blade under the mattress of the bed. The Baron wouldn’t allow you to live if you killed his precious nephew, but you’d much rather put up some sort of a fight than be put down like a dog. After taking a few steadying breaths you somehow managed to pull on your trousers and shirt, your mind plagued with dangerous, dangerous thoughts. If the moment called for it you were certain that you could not kill Feyd in hand to hand combat. His skills with a blade was well known across the galaxy, and while you were more than able to defend yourself, you weren’t delusional enough to think that you could manage to beat him without using underhanded tactics. 
You’d have to wait until his guard was lowered. 
“Do all women take this long to get ready?” 
You hadn’t heard the door open, nor his footsteps approaching. Who knew how long he had been watching you. The intrusion was an unwelcome one. You looked up to glare at him, trying hard not to balk at his appearance. The clothes he wore were skin tight, a black material that caught the dim lighting- like it was made of pitch black oil. His pants were tucked into big black boots, laced up high on his calf. 
He stretched his arms up, leaning against the doorframe so that he could continue his awkward staring. 
He did a lot of that it would seem. Any time you turned your head to face him you found that he was already looking in your direction. It was odd. . . off putting to say the least. Of course you couldn’t know that he was currently tracing the lines of your face with his eyes, committing every detail to memory. You were so different when he compared you to the females that he was used to seeing. You were all soft lines, long lashes and doe eyes. He found it impossible not to look at you. Gorgeous… you were gorgeous. 
“It took me a while to get out of my dress on my own.”You shoved your way past him in the doorway, his chest warm under your palms. 
You were quick to jerk away, startled by the fact that this was the first time that you’d touched him since the two of you had reunited. 
You didn’t hate the feel of him, but you should have. 
“Then you should have asked for some help.” He said, reaching out to grab you by the back of your shirt when you started to walk off in the wrong direction. 
Feyd pulled you along like he would a pet on a leash through the triangular halls, ignoring your mumbled curses as you tried swatting him away. 
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The shield vibrated in your ears as you switched on the button, enveloping you in its warmth. 
You used to find it uncomfortable as a child, the tight, foreign warmth triggering a mild case of claustrophobia. You were used to it now, wearing it like a second skin. You waited for Feyd to turn his on as well, the blade clutched tight in your palm. 
You waited. And waited. And waited. 
“Where’s your shield?” You asked him, motioning towards his hip with your free hand. 
There it was, that crooked smile again. He was laughing at you. Was he trying to infer that you were weak? Was he so confident in his skills that he didn’t even see you as a threat?  
“I don’t see the nee-” He didn’t get very far. 
You kicked your leg out, catching the back of his right knee. His legs buckled, and he was quick to adjust himself, his left arm flying up to catch your wrist before you could sink the blade home. For a split second the two of you just stared at each other. Mild shock in his eyes, your own alight with an anger so consuming that you feared you might be burnt up with it. He gave your arm a sharp tug, hard enough that the joint rolled uncomfortably in its socket. 
You kicked your leg out before he could throw you over his shoulder, landing a sharp blow to his ribs. You heard him let out a pained moan before you hit the ground. Using your weight to your advantage, you tucked your body in, rolling to the side so that you could easily stand up to your knees, blade poised at your side and ready for an attack. 
“You fight well, Atreides.” Feyd purred, spinning his blade between two fingers before letting it fall back into his pale palm. 
“Turn on your shield.” You growled, rising to your full height so that you could begin circling him, a panther ready to pounce. 
“Was it Duke Leto that trained you?” Still, he was ignoring your statement. 
“No.” 
“No, of course it wasn’t him,” He took a step closer to you, eyeing you down. No one had looked at you like that before. . . and it made your skin crawl. You didn’t want to be desired by this man, the thought alone was miserable enough to have bile rising in your throat. “Your father is too weak-spirited to ever train you himself, lest he accidentally harm you.” 
Your heart was beginning to pound in your ears now, vision tunneling. All you could see was Feyd. All you could imagine was the blade that you were currently white-knuckling sunk hilt deep into his chest. 
“How horrible it must be for Caladan to have a Duke so. . .  spineless.” 
You bared your teeth, and for a second you were sure that you would snap the hilt in half with how hard you were gripping your blade. You demanded blood for such an insult. How dare he. How dare he. 
“I should cut out your tongue!” You screamed, pointed the blade at him. 
‘Don’t come any closer’ you urged with your eyes, feeling the angry tears causing your vision to fog. A Harkonnen was insulting your father. He was insulting your family and now he was smiling at you. The bastard had the gall to smile and this time all of his teeth were showing. Wide, unabashed in his joy. He was terrifying. So much so that you felt your legs begin to shake underneath you. 
“But you’ll want to put this tongue to good use eventually.” His gravelly voice purred. 
“Silence!” And before you could even control yourself you were using the Voice. 
You might not be as talented as your brother when it came to hand to hand combat, but your mother had taken the time to teach you well. Feyd’s mouth snapped shut so hard that you heard his teeth clatter together. 
“One more word and I will gut you.” Your voice shook and before you could rethink your actions you were lunging forward, the blade cutting through the air. . . 
Aimed at his throat. 
He was quick to push your arm away with his forearm, and even with the shield up you could feel the bone shattering pressure he put behind the movement. He was stronger than Paul- stronger than even Gurney. He took advantage of the fact that you were put off balance and grabbed a fist full of hair, the shield around you flashing red as he pressed his blade as close as he could to the base of your throat. Your scalp exploded in pain, eyes watering as he gripped harder to yank your head back so that you were staring directly into his eyes. They held no malice towards you, even despite the fact that you were obviously trying to maim him. 
And then he leaned in closer. And closer.
“If I didn’t know any better then I would think that you were actually trying to kill me.” He whispered against the shell of your ear. You could practically feel the warmth of his lips against your skin as he spoke, your heart roaring in your ribcage. With your chests practically touching like this you could smell him.
 You’d only caught the scent of spice once in your life- and it was akin to bitter cinnamon. There was something else though, something more complex to it. Aromatic spices you couldn’t quite put your fingers on and. .  . the natural musk of his skin. 
“So you can speak again?” You managed to tease him through your pain, wincing as he brought you even closer against his chest. The blade that you clutched in your hand was now pressing against his side, the pointed edge digging into his skin. 
He didn’t wince, even when you put more pressure against it. 
“You think it wise to use the Voice on me in my own home, little girl?” He hissed as he pulled away from your ear, and the fire that was in your eyes was now mirrored in his own. 
Slowly you moved the blade away from him, the metallic clanging echoing around the room as you let it fall to the floor. Your palm hurt from the vice-like grip you had been holding it in. 
“Release me now.” You didn’t shy away from staring into his eyes, unwavering even when he pressed the blade even tighter, the shield vibrating louder and louder around you. 
He leaned in, even when your hands moved to press against his chest, willing him to give you space. You could barely breathe with him this close to you. His own knife clattered to the ground, and using his free hand he ripped the shield from off of your hip. The gasp that escaped your lips was uncontrollable. You could feel his breath on your lips as his eyes continued to swallow you up whole. 
They looked even bluer when you were up close like this, framed by long black lashes. For a split second you wondered what had become of that beautiful little boy you had met. Had Baron Vladmir beaten the beauty out of him? Or perhaps it had never truly been there to begin with. 
When Feyd looked at you, up close like this, all he saw was the object of his ever-present affections. Something yawned to life in his chest- the need to protect. All at once he felt wrong, disgusting and horrible for causing you any sort of pain. 
But you looked so lovely with those tears in your eyes. So much so that he gave your hair another small yank, a shuddered breath escaping his lips as you yelped in pain. He saw the hate in your eyes and he detested it. 
‘Fear me’ he silently urged. ‘Love me, do as I say and I will become your slave.’ 
His lips brushed against yours, achingly slow- painfully soft. 
“I yield.” You were quick to say, pulling as far back as you could even with the grip he had on your hair. 
Fire. Your scalp felt like it was on fire. 
And then he released you, taking a step back with a heaving chest. The spell now broken, it felt like the world around you suddenly resumed its orbit. Wordlessly he pressed a hand to his side- the side that you had pressed the knife- and when he pulled it away you could see that it was stained with blood. 
“Didn’t you say that you were going to gut me?” There was no hint of humor in his voice now. 
“I wanted to.” You conceded. 
“Then you should have tried harder.”
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Again you lay in bed awake, unable to fall asleep. You told yourself that it was just homesickness that had you clinging to the blankets, but you knew better. What had happened today left you rattled and confused. 
There were a hundred times today that Feyd could have killed you. Everything that Gurney had ever taught you had disappeared like smoke in the wind the second that your father was mentioned. You had acted on instinct alone. 
And if it was an actual fight to the death then you would have lost. Miserably. 
There was something strange about it though. It never once felt like an actual training session. He taught you nothing and gave you no feedback. Not only that but. . . it never felt like he actually wanted to damage your pride. He didn’t turn on his shield before and after taunting you, almost as though he actually wanted one of your attacks to land. 
He had allowed you to get everything out of your system. You hated that it had worked. It wasn’t helping you to sleep tonight though. No, you had other things on your mind now. 
Like the fact that he had almost kissed you. 
Your knowledge was limited where men were concerned, but you were nearly positive that there was something sexual about the way that he had treated you. It was like he didn’t want to actually hurt you, but still went out of his way to touch you. 
You’d be sure to ask for someone that might be willing to train you again tomorrow over breakfast. Someone who wasn’t Feyd, preferably. Lunch and dinner had been spent in silence on your part tonight. He had tried to strike up conversation a few times, even baiting you in ways that might warrant annoyance and anger. You didn’t budge. Why? Because you hated how nervous you felt in his presence now. 
Was it because you were afraid of him? That had to be it. Hearing about his proficiency in fighting and seeing it first hand were two different things. He had practically swung you around like a ragdoll. It was absolutely humiliating. 
Yes, that had to be it. . . well, you hoped. 
“Atreides.” 
The sound of your name had you bolting up into a sitting position, willing your eyes to adjust to the non-existent lighting in the room. The sound of footsteps had your heart jumping up into your throat, adrenaline flooding your system once you realized that it wasn’t a voice that you recognized. 
No one had entered the room since you’d gotten back from dinner, which meant. . . 
Whoever this was had been hiding, waiting until you completely lowered your guard. You were in danger. Horrible, horrible danger. 
‘Be careful. Please.’ You remembered Feyd’s words from earlier. 
He had been trying to warn you.
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the wonderful line “fear me, love me. do as i say and i will become your slave” is from the movie “the labyrinth”!
3K notes · View notes
scwheeler · 3 months
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— how to get a girl’s attention
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luke castellan x fem!daughter of demeter!reader
warnings: near-drowning experience…
summary: as the daughter of demeter, you’re the first person that everyone turns to when injuries need to be tended too, questions need to be asked, and any type of advice is required, however what’s going to happen when you’re the one in need?
a/n: this one’s quite lengthy guys! i really just got derailed like ten times and love adding details and the ending is kind of basic but whatever; don’t mind me making up random camper names btw lol 👼👼
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waking up to the sound of constant bickering was just a normal tuesday morning as your younger half-siblings were already at each other’s throats about some stupid thing. yesterday it was borrowing boots and the day before it was who had to take the trash out.
you groaned, wishing that you could still sleep in peace and quiet but your cabin clearly suggested otherwise. so you gradually got up and put on your little slippers, approaching the main fighters who continued to argue with each other.
“hey hey hey, what’s going on now.” you had to physically get between the two children, separating them with your arms.
“he slipped paint all over my skirt and now it’s ruined!” the young girl cried, holding up her stained skirt to prove it. you took the clothing in your hands and knelt down to face her.
“why don’t i go to the river later today and try to get the stain out myself. it seems washable to me, what do you think?”
with a slight frown, she nodded her head to comply. you were relieved to say the least before turning to the boy, “how about you apologize and come with me to the river after breakfast?”
the boy stayed silent with his arms crossed, trying to avoid your insisting stare. but intimidated enough, he looked to the floor and whispered a small “fine, i’m sorry” with a glare.
you smiled as the situation was deescalated and told the rest of the kids surrounding the pair to hurry and make their beds in order to head to breakfast.
holding hands with the now puffy-faced girl, you tried to tell her about all the fun activities she could do today to forget about the unfortunate morning incident.
before reaching mess hall, the child already had a a bright smile just thinking about the bracelet making and embroidery you promised for the later evening. pleased with your peace-making skills, you sat with the rest of your campers and half-siblings that you were in charge of.
as the eldest sibling and one of the camp counselors, you took on the responsibility of looking after the young ones and caring for almost everyone at camp.
thus, when most of the camp half-blood children had troubles or dilemmas of any sort, they would disregard their own counselors and go straight to you. your kindhearted, yet sociable personality rooted from your mother: demeter.
you were often found laying around in the fruit fields or by the river listening to the water flow through the ground and hit the rocks. like your mother, nature was where you felt at peace, especially with the lack of quiet in your own cabin.
but you still loved your fellow campers and half-siblings, except for one boy who would not leave you alone.
luke castellan.
he liked to push your buttons and see how far he could take you until you’d explode. of course, you always kept your calm until either you just left the conversation or it would be interrupted by a camper in need who was like a knight in shining armor.
it wasn’t that you didn’t like the guy. you liked everyone at camp, including mr. d for gods sake! but something about luke was different. you occasionally saw him with his campers or his friends, he would joke around but never act like he does with you.
when you least expect it, he sneaks up behind you and gets close enough to whisper something in your ear. it could be just a random comment or sentence started but in an alluring voice as if you were friends or even more.
he knows what he’s doing. the moment he finishes, you flinch and get flustered, cheeks heating up and instantly standing up to avoid making eye contact. as you walk away, luke only watches and smiles to himself.
he knows how much power he holds over you, as with just a few words he can make you nervous.
“okay so once everyone’s done, we’ll first go to the archery range and you’ll stay there with counselor clarisse while damien and i go to the river to get that nasty stain out.” you explained and first looked at the boy who begrudgingly agreed to helping you earlier and then winked at the little girl you promised to help.
“counselor clarisse…!” one of the boys exclaimed.
“oh no she’s the mean one!” “yeah, she’s a bully!” your campers all started to agree and mutter remarks about their fear in staying with clarisse.
you couldn’t help but chuckle at their scared little faces, “clarisse? oh gods no! clarisse is not scary, she loves you guys and she’ll take good care of you.”
the children stared at you in disbelief while chowing down their eggs and bacon. “why can’t we just come with you to the river?!” one of the girls begged and began to pout alongside the other ten kids beside her.
you sighed and pursed your lips into a thin line, trying to come up with a compromise but you couldn’t.
“please it’s only for a couple of hours and then i’ll be back for the rock wall and some capture the flag!” you persuaded, trying to lighten up the mood.
but the kids still looked dissatisfied, now poking their breakfast around with their utensils in objection.
“well—” before you could plead another case why clarisse is a perfectly reasonable and responsible counselor and guardian, you were cut off by the one and only.
“aw don’t worry guys, you should listen to your counselor. plus i’ll be there too so if counselor clarisse gets even just a little too scary, you can come and hang with awesome counselor luke!” a voice announced from behind you.
you nearly choked on your food, startled in the surprise voice cutting you off. but the campers were overjoyed to see their second favorite counselor appear. there were an overwhelming amount of comments from the once so silent children, mostly regarding “luke!” and “yay!”
you whipped your head around to face the boy, standing right behind you with nothing but a smug grin on his face. then he leaned in just as he always does and whispered a quick, “you’re welcome” and turned to leave just as fast as he came.
“can we please hang out with counselor luke instead of clarisse?!” all the campers plead with their hands put together and lower lip puckered. left with no other choice by that damn castellan again, you inhaled deeply and slightly nodded which was shortly followed by an array of cheers and excitement.
after dropping off all of the campers in the hands of luke, you put a hand on damien’s back and led him to the river. but before leaving, you had to make sure luke would actually clock in as a responsible counselor.
“so i can count on you to keep them safe for the next couple of hours?”
“wow you sound like you doubt me!” luke said and took a step back with his hands up in fake surrender.
“enough with the games, castellan. are you going to make sure they don’t kill each other and stay unharmed until i return?” you asked again, ignoring his previous comment.
luke tried to hold back his smile after you called him by his last name. most of the time, his sparring partners or other counselors would use his last name rather his first. however, when the way you let the ‘n’ slightly my drag after saying it sent chills throughout his entire body.
to hide his delight, he lightly scoffed and crossed his arms at your hesitation. “i assure you that i will protect them with my life. i mean i am the best swordsman at camp,” he added as the corners of his lips just couldn’t help themselves to lift a little.
you rolled your eyes at his self-confidence and how he kept complimenting himself. luke only did it to impress you though, something that hasn’t been very successful.
“okay well alissa has a nut allergy, georgie has a bee allergy, and please keep thomas and will away from the poison ivy. i do not want to spend another summer knee deep in tomato juice.”
luke could only watch and admire as you kept expressing your deep concern for all the kids. he loved how much you cared. but a few more seconds and you would be driving yourself crazy over all the possibilities of something going wrong.
that’s when luke stepped in and softly grabbed your right arm.
“hey, it’s fine. go do whatever you have to do and i’ll come running down to the river if anything goes wrong but i doubt it, i’m pretty responsible y’know.” he reassured and stared straight into your eyes, indicating his sincerity. his smile wasn’t conceited or to drive his ego but rather held a tender emotion.
you looked up into his hazel eyes and suddenly the worries stopped and your nerves were calmed, other than the ones beginning to stir in your stomach. but this was far from the regard about the kids.
this feeling was something else. something new.
“are we going to go already?” the young boy you almost forgot about, whined and rugged on your orange camp t-shirt.
snapping out of your trance and back to reality you answered, “o-oh yeah, i think counselor luke’s got it from here.”
with that you turned away from luke and immediately headed for the river alongside damien but the paint-stained skirt was farthest from your mind now. you tried to shake the new feelings and thoughts out of your body and replace them with your past ones of the kids.
until, “is that guy your boyfriend?”
you quickly looked down to the boy asking the question, with such seriousness in his eyes.
“counselor luke? gods no! i wouldn’t even call him a friend!” you answered swiftly, picking up your pace and hurrying damien in front of you.
“geez…i was just asking!”
as soon as you two got to the river, settling on a few rocks by the edge, you started rubbing the blue-stained skirt with the clear water. damien sat next to you, fiddling his thumbs and staring at the water’s constant movement.
“so are you going to tell me why you did this or not?” you began, keeping your eyes on the skirt.
“i just wanted to.”
“damien.” you urged and this time, you stared directly at him with your eyebrows raised.
he sighed in defeat and gave up on lying to you.
“okay…well i just didn’t know how else to get clara’s attention,” the boy admitted and refused to look at you.
his response warned your heart and prompted your to smile to yourself.
“so you did this, just to get clara’s attention?”
you held up the now drenched skirt and demanded damien to look at you. for a moment, he did and nodded quickly before instantly going back to staring at the rock he was sitting on.
you stifled your laughter at how adorable the young boy you were with was being.
“damien…there are a lot of different and more efficient ways to get clara’s attention. may a suggest one that doesn’t destroy her belongings and ends up with her being angry?” you insisted and squeezed the excess water out of the skirt.
he looked up and nodded again but this time he continued.
“what should i do?”
“why don’t you make her a bracelet when we go back and sincerely apologize.” you suggested while laying out the wet skirt on the rock to dry.
he smiled at your suggestion as you went to sit closer by him. before speaking again, he pulled out a small daisy from his pant pocket and presented it to you.
your eyes focused on the blooming flower that lost a few of its petals due to being stuck in the boy’s pocket for a while now. but the remaining petals still standing were enough to maintain the flower’s beauty.
“when did you become such a gentlemen?” you nudged his shoulder and took the flower from his hands.
“oh, i’ve been giving him some lessons.”
alarmed, you turned to see the familiar face that had been surprising you all day.
“what are you doing here?! how about the kids—who’s watching them?!” you immediately stood up and marched towards the too calm figure standing amongst the trees. but he caught you with both arms, preventing you with ease.
“woah woah, take a breather, they’re with clarisse.” he said and stopped you before you ran back to the mess hall.
reading your expression, luke could tell you were not convinced nor pleased so he had to fix his answer.
“—and annabeth and chris.”
with that you stopped fighting against his grasp and stepped back, finally exhaling.
“you haven’t answered my first question.”
“oh! i just uh wanted to um come and tell you that they’re asking for damien back at camp. they were practically begging me to come over here and get him!”
you narrowed your eyes after he finished, easily indicating the lie.
“okay…you can go damien but remember what i said,” you smiled and patted his shoulder before sending him off back to camp.
the young boy ran off without a care and ready to make that bracelet with a formal apology. luke stood there, quite surprised that his lie that chris helped him think of in fact worked.
“soooo do you need help with whatever that is?” luke pointed at the skirt laid out on the rock.
“no.” you shortly responded and walked back to your rock but luke followed like a lost puppy.
“are you sure? i mean as head counselor for cabin 11, i can cook up a mean batch of laundry,” he insisted and trailed behind you.
unbeknownst to him, you rolled your eyes and cringed at his wording.
“your words don’t even make sense.”
caught in a lie, luke decided actions spoke louder than words and walked past you to the skirt. you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion as he picked it up and crouched down near the water before dunking it back into the water.
shocked and a little annoyed, you hurriedly ran to him.
“what the hell are you doing?! i just washed that! i’m waiting for it to dry dumbass!”
“oh she curses!” he exclaimed, finally getting a real response from you.
you reached for it until luke raised it a little higher, just out of your reach. using his height as an advantage, he held out the clothing as far as he could and to the river.
fed up and exhausted, you went on your tippy-toes and lunged for the skirt. swiftly, luke pulled it close to his body just as you reached leading you to accidentally lean too far.
with a splash, you fell straight into the freezing cold water, unknown to how deep the river was. luke’s eyes widened, he thought you falling in would be funny but once you hadn’t resurfaced within a few seconds he became worried.
without a second thought, he dropped the skirt, pulled off his camp shirt, and dove into the biting waves. as soon as he saw your bright orange t-shirt in contrast to the clear water, he put his arm around your waist and swim towards the surface.
pulling you out to the rocks and laying your body on the ground, he waited for you to gain consciousness. luckily, you started to gasp for air and spit out gulps of water as you sat up.
luke sighed in relief at once. you wiped your face of water and blinked repeatedly until your sight returned to normal. then your eyes were fixated on something else, rather someone. his bare chest stood directly in front of your face, it wasn’t like you were trying to stare!
“i’m sorry, y/n. I’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to do that and i’m really sorry.” luke recited.
“i-it’s okay.” you stuttered, the cold water chilling your body.
“here take off the wet one and take mine.”
luke grabbed his discarded camp shirt and handed it to you. if you weren’t on the verge of frostbite you would’ve refused, but without another word you agreed and luke turned to face the trees as you pulled the wet shirt over your head and put on luke’s.
“thanks. for saving me and the shirt.”
luke turned back to face you and smiled, “i mean i was the one to make you fall into the water in the first place, it’s the least i can do.”
“aren’t you cold?” you signaled to his bare chest.
“no, i’m okay don’t worry. but your jeans are still wet so let’s head back to camp.” he reassured and helped you get up.
you nodded and let him take the lead. with your wet shirt and skirt in one hand and the other grabbing onto luke’s arm, you two finally made it back to camp. before dropping you off at your cabin, you had to ask.
“why did you come to the river anyway?”
luke awkwardly put his hand on the back of his neck and looked away.
“oh. i just uh wanted to spend time with you.” he admitted, ultimately facing you.
you stopped attending to your dripping pants and looked up at him. he had a genuine smile, now with both hands shoved into his pockets.
how was it that you had never noticed the golden flecks in his deep brown eyes? or the way the orange hues of the sunset highlighted the amber shade his eyes would turn?
“y’know, there are a lot of other ways to get my attention in the first place, that doesn’t involve us falling into freezing cold water.”
luke laughed at your comment which eased the awkward air.
“i had this almost exact same conversation with a little boy of about seven years, and gave him some valuable advice.”
“what was the advice..?” he carefully asked.
“to make her a bracelet and apologize, one of…you’ve already done profusely.” you raised your eyebrow to imply his previous attempt in apologizing nonstop.
“ah, a bracelet you say, okay got it,” luke said and nodded his head.
with that, he bid you a good day and you asked to meet him later at the campfire to return his shirt.
“alright you two sit there, i don’t want to see anymore fighting over the dinosaurs, you can sit here with him, and you three over there—” guiding the campers for the campfire that was just about to begin, you made your way to an empty bench.
smiling to yourself, you watched as your campers finally calmed down and enjoyed the music, giving up on fighting and arguing with one another. someone jumped over the bench and leaned back to sit right next to you, and you had a feeling who it may be.
“luke?”
“yes ma’am.” he replied with a tilt towards you and two fingers from his head.
the campfire lit up his face and highlighted his sharp features that you had somehow missed until this moment. his charming smile urging his dimples alongside his dark curls freshly washed with a new scented shampoo was enough to make you realize you were hooked. damn.
“oh i have a little something for you, give me your arm and close your eyes,” he spoke up and put his hand in his pocket.
raised eyebrow, you reluctantly closed your eyes and gave him your right arm. suddenly in fear of some bug or scary animal on your hand, you slowly retracted it back to yourself until he gently got a hold of it.
he pulled your arm towards him slightly and slipped something on around your wrist. waiting for his approval, you sat questioning what the mystery item could be.
“okay, open.” luke did a little ‘ta-da’ motion once you flickered your eyes open, adjusting to the dark yet orangish lit surrounding.
you looked down at the intricate, handsome bracelet that appeared on your wrist. it was similar to the camp necklaces but the beads were translucent with flowers imbedded into them. except for one bead that was painted a heavenly green, your favorite color.
astonished and at a loss for words, you observed the bracelet, moving around the small beads on the string.
“i’m sorry.”
snapping out of your trance, you instantly stared up at luke after his words in confusion.
“what?”
“you said earlier, ‘there are a lot of other ways to spend time with you that don’t involve us falling into freezing cold water, for starters make a bracelet and apologize.’” he repeated your words from back by your cabin. he remembered.
“so you made me a bracelet and apologize just like i said?” double-checking, you glanced once at the bracelet and back to the dashing boy who looked as if he had stars in his eyes, waiting for your reaction.
“not only for you, i also helped damien make one for that girl he’s got a crush on,” he continued and looked over to the little boy doing the exact same hold-out-your-arm-and-close-your-eyes trick on the girl sobbing about her stained skirt earlier.
she opened her eyes to a freshly washed skirt and matching bracelet, along with a smiling boy who was apologizing and waiting for her reaction. she leapt into his arms with a bunch of ‘thank yous.’ the boy then briefly peered at luke who proceeded to wink and give an approving nod.
happily surprised, you sat gaping at the boy you thought was so infuriating just a couple of hours before. luke knew exactly what he was doing. he knew how much you cared for the campers and your half-siblings, how you would always chose their safety and happiness at the expense of your very own.
it was one of the traits he admired the most about you. even when in a bad mood or not feeling your best, you would put on a brave face and make sure to put their needs in front of you own.
he witnessed it first-hand last week when your campers wanted to go rock climbing but there were dozens of poison ivy already there. thus, to not disappoint the kids, you stayed up all night removing the dangerous plant and relocating them to another area deep in the forest for them to grow.
even with your plant manipulation abilities, with the large amount of the poisonous plant, it took you quite a while. afterwards, you went as far to replace them with lovely daisies you summoned from the gardens in front of your cabin.
during the move from the rock climbing course to the forest, luke had spotted you while some late-night sword practicing because he couldn’t sleep due to apollo cabin next door.
he debated approaching you and settled on only admiring you from afar after you almost finished anyway. he didn’t want to disturb you or aggravate you further than you already were. but leaving you here in the forest during midnight would be wrong.
what if a monster were to come? how were you to defend yourself if you were distracted! therefore, it was just common sense that luke had to keep watch, i mean he even had his sword with him after all.
but once the sun peeped from the tall mountains, he came to a realization that he had just sat and watched you for more than a couple hours. so in order to not get caught, he ran off back to his cabin before anyone would wake up.
only a little after luke headed to bed, morning arrived and you were the first one to break the happy news to your campers that today would be the day for rock climbing. greatly proud and feeling accomplished, you even invited other cabins to join and have a spin at it. including luke’s.
now he was the one to show you how much he cared for the campers as well, focusing on a feature you had great respects for. your shocked expression softened and now leapt into his arms.
“thank you, castellan. really.”
blood rushed to his cheeks and he tried to hide his excitement, but you felt his genuine smile on your shoulder. before pulling away, he stopped by your ear and whispered.
“do i have permission to kiss you, counselor?”
you could’ve giggled at his words and how close his lips were to your ear. without wasting another breath, you pulled his face closer to you and put your lips on his.
feeling the warmth of his breath, you could taste the sweet taste of strawberries he must’ve eaten earlier. only centimeters away, your bodies were attracted to each other almost pressing. the kiss wasn’t long but not short either, somewhat leaving a lasting impression on the other.
yet again you felt a small grin of his lips during the kiss, making you pull away for air. but your eyes were still glued to his, moments away from repeating the act but you both realized where you were and how irresponsible it would look as counselors. so instead he grabbed your hand, now giving you the absolute cutest puppy dog eyes before asking.
“do i have your attention now?”
3K notes · View notes
satoruxx · 3 months
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pairing: toji fushiguro x reader | 1.6k words summary: boyfriend!toji headcanons, fluff, soft!toji, grumpy x sunshine, he’s a simp but he’ll never admit it !! rheya's note: grumpy man being soft for the person he really loves? i’m here for it. mamaguro is literal proof that he can and will love !!
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bf!toji who is silent with his care for you. he's not one to be open or dramatic about his feelings, but you bet he'll show them in actions. small, mundane things that could only be picked out under critical eyes—like quietly placing an extra mug of coffee next to you as you work, or being the one to walk closest to the street, fingers firmly clasped around your palm. if you point it out he'll just grunt, shaking his head with a quiet "keep walking" all while pretending to ignore your silly little grin.
bf!toji who isn't really the type to be big on words of affirmation, but huge on physical touch. you tell him you did well on a project at school or work and he just hums, giving you a little nod. he doesn't say anything else—doesn't really have to because the soft lingering pat on your head is enough to tell you that he's proud.
bf!toji who is an aggressive yet affectionate lover. if you're doing something and he's not receiving your attention he will come up behind you and put you in a headlock. he thinks it's an appropriate response considering how much he craves your attention and company—why on earth are you focused on something that isn't him anyway? so be prepared to have his heavy bicep playfully curling around your throat or slinging you over his shoulders at random times—it's his way of telling you he misses you. and if anything, he'll do it to hear you whine and attempt to shove him off.
bf!toji who will absolutely take your phone and change your lockscreen to pictures of him. every so often, you'll turn your phone on and see an entirely different picture—sometimes a picture of him at the gym, other times a picture of him blocking out his face—but it's always him.
bf!toji whose own lockscreen is always something that's related to you. he's sneaky with it, always stealing pictures of you when you're not looking. he's got a separate album with them—probably hidden behind a password because it's something only he should be allowed to see. but whether it's a snapshot of his hand intertwined with yours or a blurry image of you fast asleep in his bed, it's always you. because of course you’re the first thing he should be able to see when he turns his phone on.
bf!toji who, as cliché as it sounds, is exactly the type to go feral if someone's made you upset. and he's freakishly observant, noticing even a slight pinch of your nose or wobble in your lips—he's caught them all. whether you're just down or outright sobbing, he's there, standing in front of you with pure anger weighing heavy on his brows. and yet for all his rage he's nothing but gentle as he firmly takes your face in his calloused hands, muttering a strained "what the fuck happened?" as he forces you to make eye contact with him. his own eyes will dart over your features, searching for discomfort or any other emotion as you explain, barely holding back his own emotions because there's no reason on the fucking planet that you should be upset at all.
bf!toji who rarely says the words "i love you" not because he doesn't but because the words themselves don't hold all that much meaning to him. no he'd rather spend his time proving it to you than just saying it for the sake of saying it. but, sometimes if you pretend to be asleep long enough, you'll catch him quietly whisper the words into your hair, almost like he doesn't want anyone to hear it. don't even bother trying to call him out for it—he'll deny deny deny.
bf!toji whose eyes flutter when he lets you trace over his scars. not just the one cutting over his lips but the ones that litter his back and torso—battle remnants that he doesn't remember much of. he's always hated the look of them, indifferent to old memories of a much more chaotic time in his life. but when your gentle fingers graze over the raised skin he'll sigh, oddly quiet but yet so comfortable.
bf!toji who will drop everything if you need him. don't ever hesitate to ask him for things because you're scared of being a burden—he will yell at you (affectionately). you drank too much with your friends and can't get a ride? call him and he'll pick you up even if it's 4 am. you're feeling nervous about walking home from the convenience store even though it's only ten minutes away from home? stay put and he'll come get you so that you can walk back together. shut up about all that "it's an inconvenience for you" bullshit—he'll do it and that's that.
bf!toji who asks if you've eaten today, and when you answer with a sheepish smile he'll click his tongue, crossing his bulky arms over his chest and giving you a pointed glare. then he'll say "get your ass to the kitchen. c'mon, up." while hoisting you to your feet—most of the time he'll just pick you up and plop you on the counter himself.
bf!toji who wordlessly makes you something to eat, whether it's a quick snack put together with leftovers or an actual full meal. then he'll stand in front of you with the plate and demand you eat. even a slight word of protest and he's scowling, already holding up a spoonful while grumbling a low "don't wanna hear it. open up, kid."
bf!toji who hates when you fall asleep on the couch waiting for him to get home. his job doesn't allow for the comfort of a strict schedule, and he's told you this many times. but you're nothing if not stubborn, and he can only sigh heavily as he sees you dozing against the armrest when he pushes the door open late at night. he'll click his tongue quietly, hooking both arms under your back and knees to cradle you against his chest before walking to the bedroom. though some part of him is pleased, knowing that you seem to care about him enough to make sure he's coming home every night.
bf!toji who glares at anyone who even breathes in your direction the wrong way. some guy eyeing you while you're walking on the street? toji looks like he's ready to rip his head off. some "friend" of yours asking too many questions about why you're dating a man like him? well…if looks could kill.
bf!toji who pulls you into his lap when he kisses you, because he likes the way you fit into his space so perfectly. he won't ever admit how it makes him swoon when you giggle against his lips, instead choosing to tighten his grip on your hips and pull you closer to his chest.
bf!toji who enjoys watching you sit on the kitchen counter and swing your legs back and forth—finding it so unbelievably endearing that he ends up just standing in between your legs and burying his face into your neck. his lips will map chaste kisses across your skin, and he'll hide a wry smile as your quiet giggles wash over him.
bf!toji who will notice when you eye something at a store, whether it's a pretty piece of jewelry or a new sweater or whatever—he keeps note. and then weeks later, once you've forgotten all about it, he'll come home and drop a bag into your lap before shoving his hands into his pockets. when you open it and start gushing about how much you wanted it and how pleased you are, he'll huff and turn away, muttering a low "whatever, kid. 's not a big deal."
bf!toji who sees you upset about something, and loops his bicep around your neck and tucks you under his chin. to an outsider it doesn't look like the most comforting form of a hug, but it's toji, and he's secure and he's safe and he's all the comfort you need—a tight squeeze that grounds you in a way that you can't quite describe.
bf!toji who will never admit how interested he is in your gossip. his ideal way to destress after he comes home is to sit on the couch with you in his lap, your arms looped around his waist as you press yourself against his torso and tuck your head under his chin. and even though his eyes are trained on the tv, he has no clue what's going on—he's more focused on the drama you're spilling or whoever you're ranting about. and he makes it known too, occasionally asking "then what happened, baby?" and adding in a few sounds of disbelief. by the end of your rant, he'll be saying something along the lines of "what a fucking bitch," or "honestly he deserved that," and then asks for updates on the situation over the next few days.
bf!toji who silently watches you trace your fingers over the lines on his palms. you're blabbering about something, tucked against his chest as his other arm remains wrapped around you securely, but he's just focused on your hands. it scares him a little bit—the difference between you and him. his palms are calloused, rough with battle and death, while yours are soft, clean of the horrors he's determined to keep away from you. and a small part of him tells him he shouldn't taint you with all his faults, that you deserve someone more capable of loving than he is. but then he feels you brush your lips over his scarred fingers and he sucks in a breath, tightening his grip imperceptibly. even as he hides a half smile against your brow, he knows he isn't going anywhere.
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yanderenightmare · 2 months
Text
TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, omegaverse/hybrid au, size difference, pet-play, predator x prey, collaring, handcuffing
fem reader
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Think about being a bleating little bunny hunted down by two big bad wolves…
Your fear tastes so good – layered thickly in the air – so sweet in their mouth it’s almost painful how hungry it makes them – seeped and soaked and stained on the bed where they keep you collared and leashed for their own personal use.
You drive them both wild with your aroma and all your cute little struggles where you try so adorably to shove them away and crawl out of their reach. It’s never any use, and yet you still try despite being so stupidly small beneath them – so tiny it only takes one of their hefty hands to have you completely overpowered.
But they’re as sweet as they can be – as sweet as your smaller body allows them to be when it so obviously isn’t meant to take their thicker fatter meaner cocks in its petite little holes – prepping you on tongues and big fingers until you’re as loose as you get before stuffing you with something that’s always going to be too big for you.
They have to tie your hands to something – where despite them being fruitless in their effort, they can become bothersome to leave free – often attaching them to the loop in your collar, so you keep them to yourself all cutely while they mark you with their fangs – making you into a pretty artwork with coarse fingers rubbing your perky little nipples into sore nubs.
You’re really just too cute; it’s cruel – looking up at them with those adorably big eyes and that button nose wrinkling on each little sniffle when you beg them to let you go. Lop-ears sadly framing your face – so soft in their hands and so sensitive it makes you bite your lip all preciously each time they give them a little nibble.
You sob under their touches – knees shaking – as one of them laps at your clit with a bearded chin tickling your puffy pussy-lips, gnawing some on the swollen flesh while slurping your hole. His thick and eager tongue paints through your slit again and again and again on an unrelenting repeat – similar to the eager tail whipping behind him – swallowing all your juice down – growling ferally at the maddening taste while your thighs sweetly tremble around his jaw.
Your other predator bites on the plump of your ass, leaving spotted rings in his wake. Cupping your buttcheeks – fully fitting in the palms of his mighty paws – he cards his claws into the fat and spreads them wide open for an attack on that pretty tight little ring hidden between them. You always whine so sweetly for him – your cute fluffy cottontail doing a little dance while he circles your rim with his tongue – warning you of what’s to come later in the day when he’s finally had the taunt hole fully stretched and as ready as it gets to take his fat knot.
He moans into you while thinking about it – about your cute bunny butt swallowing his meat and being blown full of his thick creampie. Going livid at the mere thought alone – his cock bobs impatiently against his happy trail while he forces restraint upon himself – knowing how if he tries splitting your poor little butt on his pole now, he’d most likely tear you in two.
Instead, he amuses himself by prodding the pretty hole with the tip of a very special golden carrot – fresh batteries turning your rim numb while he slides ring after thicker ring inside you until you close around the tuft of golden leaves at its end. Tugging on his cock impatiently, he places his head – fluffy pointy ear-down upon your belly – listening to the drums echo inside you as he turns the vibrations up high enough to feel it through your skin. 
Of course, he wants to make sure that his precious little bunny is prepped and ready before subjugating you to a good butt-fuck – being kind enough to satisfy himself with your mouth until then – making you cry and choke around his thickness, swallowing his cock down your tight throat until your little nose burrow in the dark curls around his base – watching the pretty furrow between your brows beg for air as your eyes roll back and turn white with desperation.
He lets you suck his balls as mercy once you’ve choked him down long enough – to the point you’ve lost your pretty voice – gripping one of your lop ears, he holds it tightly by the base – thinking there's nothing cuter than spitting on your chubby bunny-face while you dizzily comfort yourself by nuzzling his sack so sweetly. 
Your pussy is left alone after it’s made swollen by a handful of orgasms, but not before the abuser slaps his handiwork with a grin. He wipes his chin off your slick, then grabs your other free ear – messaging the softness as he pulls your mouth off the other’s sack and onto his cock – fucking the pocket of your cheek while you sob from their rough handlings – fearing they might just tear your poor ears off.
They both stand above you as you kneel for them by their feet, lolling your teary lips against their heavy balls – groaning as you give them all sloppy, open-mouthed kisses as they fight for space in your tiny mouth – telling you to beg for the cum stored inside while you slide you pink little tongue over them until they drip with your drool. Then, making your lip and mouth the spine of their shafts, sliding both fat manhoods between your plump lips until making you take one head at a time, licking the slit clean of slaty precum.
But more than childsplay with their cocks on your cute face, they like propping your other two holes – make you moan and cream on them – entirely obsessed with fucking you full of the two of them – pushing in so deep, they have you screaming and shaking in uncontrollable spasms as you clamp down hard around them.
It feels extra sweet when they fuck you at the same time – feeling the other through the wall separating the holes – timing their thrusts – pushing in until completely sheathed down to the base, bottomed-out with their knot swelling up inside you, pumping you full of hot cum before sloshing out – leaving you panting and twitching.
Both holes fluttering around their absence – they inspect them to see how good they have your little bunny-holes stretched – grinning at the sight of both entrances gaping for them as though they can’t wait to be taken by their big dicks – both chuckling deeply when seeing how much of their cum your tightness pushes out before they fuck it right back inside you again – completely mesmerized by the big belly bulge the two of them are making in your tiny body – taken and riveted by the thought of breeding you despite knowing that it would be impossible for you to carry either of their pups. 
None of it keeps them from emptying the full value of their balls inside you for the umpteenth time – both of them slobbering at your neck while messaging you with big hands on your tits and hips, hissing out carnivorous desires your feeble constitution doesn’t understand before they sink their teeth down hard into the soft flesh of your vulnerable neck – claiming you as both their pretty little prey and silly little mate.
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BNHA – EndMight, EndHawks, BakuDeku, KiriBaku, DabiHawks, ShigaDabi
JJK – Toji x Shiu, SatoSugu
HQ – Miya twins
DS – DouAka
HxH – HisoIllu
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downbadf0rficppl · 2 months
Text
pink in the night
Bucky Barnes x F!Reader
Summary: Some interesting rumours have been circling around about Bucky. Little do you know, it's kinda your fault.
Word Count: 4.5K
Warnings: Porn with a bit of plot, SMUT, SMUT, SMUT, soft Buck, SMUT!!!!
AN: Sorry y'all! It's kinda a bit shit but listen, it's self-indulgent so idc :) This is kinda inspired by 'Pink in the Night' by Mitski which I was listening to while writing this. Have a good rest of the week, y'all <3
Repost
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Bucky had a love-hate relationship with being your neighbour. On the one hand, he loved seeing your face as you left your room every morning, hair not yet slicked to perfection, and sleep still evident on your face. You seemed a lot more innocent in the morning - conversations more idle.
On the other hand - and perhaps as a downside to his more sensitive hearing - you drove him crazy with the knowledge of things that perhaps he wasn't supposed to know.
This night was no different. You had headed off to bed after a long day, bidding everyone in the kitchen a good night. You grabbed a water bottle before slipping into the elevator, Bucky not far behind. You stepped out of the elevator together and you wished him sweet dreams before slipping into your room. Oh, his dreams were going to be far from sweet.
You see, your beds were pushed up to opposite sides of the same wall, so he could hear you relax on your bed. He could hear you shuffle to strip into just your underwear, and how your hand slipped into your panties. He could hear how your breath hitched as you circled your clit, and your soft moans as you plunged your fingers into your cunt or as your vibrator dipped in between your folds.
He could almost envisage you doing it - a forbidden porno that took root in his mind every night that he heard you finger yourself to completion. The rosy pink flush that you would glow as you came all over your hand. Your heavy rise and fall of your chest as you came down from your high. The small smile that would adorn your face as rolled over to fall asleep - the oxytocin released coursing through your veins.
He felt disgusting as he did - one of those creeps that he intended to protect you from for the rest of his life. But after you'd fallen asleep, he'd hop into the shower to cool his body and his mind - to throw the detestable thoughts of you to the far corners of his mind. But as he fell asleep, you'd re-enter his mind in a different way. A more safe-for-work way. You'd be in his arms, cuddling him and whispering sweet words of encouragement. You'd be cooking him dinner while he told you funny stories about his life with scrawny Steve in the 40s; he'd be washing the dishes while you sat on the counter tell him about your day. He'd worry for your well-being - not as an overbearing coworker but as a loving, doting boyfriend. Maybe husband.
Bucky was getting ahead of himself - he'd have to work up the courage to have more than a few-word conversation with you. But for now, wishing he could hold your hand would have to suffice.
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Being Bucky's neighbour was not much easier. Especially when he was completely oblivious to your plight. Even the slight brush of a hand made your heart flutter.
You loved seeing him early in the morning - he always seemed less reserved when he was fresh from a good night's rest. He was faster to smile, faster to laugh. It was nice. You woke up at an ungodly hour to see him just before he headed on his morning run. You couldn't deny that the morning light did wonders for him - you were always left wanting more when he dipped into the elevator.
Oh, and the sounds. Your hearing was not quite as superior as Bucky's, but you definitely heard things that left you clenching around thin air.
You knew Bucky wasn't one to self-complete often - in fact, it was rare that you ever caught on to the act. But you had caught the odd broken moan coming from his room. You turned into molten mush, the weight of your arousal buckling your knees. If there was any sound that could turn you to putty, it was that.
You didn't how many times the idea of Bucky fucking you had played through your mind, but each night a different variation brought you the same ending - your fingers deep in your cunt, coaxing you to a climax.
Every night, you wished his cock, tongue, fingers were filling you up instead of yours, leaving you aching and wishing for more. You wanted to run your nails down his back - leaving permanent reminders of your love for him - while he nipped at your neck - leaving marks claiming you as his.
Sometimes, your brain caught up to your thoughts, reprimanding you for your possessiveness. He wasn't yours, you had to remind yourself, even if you wished he was. For that, you'd have to actually have to have more than a few-word conversation with him - which to be honest, seemed impossible. So you stuck to your nightly wishful dreaming, hoping one day he'd be yours. Only yours.
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Summer was the worst for Bucky. You were the type to spend hours upon hours out in the sun, coming back with a budding tan and rosy complexion - it did nothing to quell the budding images flashing in the back of his mind. You. Under him. Panting. Moaning his name as he brought you to the edge. Over and over again. Face glowing pink as you gaze up into his eyes, drunk on love and his cock. Bucky had to excuse himself to splash cold water on his face.
It didn't help that the clothing you wore did nothing to help his imagination. The semi-sheer tops, the shorts, the swimsuit and bikinis. Every time he saw you, he immediately had to duck back inside to deal with 'a little problem'. More like a very large, very hard, and very obvious problem.
Still, he enjoyed your company more than he had for the better part of his time living in the compound. He listened to your stories, your jokes, helped solve your issues. He felt that - even if you weren't quite what he wanted you to be - your relationship was blossoming into something quite beautiful. And that made him feel a lot braver - he introduced a little comment here and there, a hand always on your waist or the small of your back. He flirted with you from time to time: just to gauge a meter on your reactions, he'd tell himself, as if this was an experiment to crack a hypothesis that had been perplexing scientists for years.
The sun was peaking over the top of the trees surrounding the compound when you woke up. That was a rarity in summer, given that the sun rose at nearly 5am. Still, you didn't miss out on the opportunity to watch the sunrise, curling up on your windowsill with your blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders.
You heard Bucky opening his door, and you ran towards yours, grabbing your phone and slippers on your way. You opened your door just as he closed his. He was dressed in gym wear - as always - since he was going on his morning run around the compound track. It was a nice track - one that you rarely frequented - going in and out of the forest behind the compound, totalling about 4.5 miles in distance.
He took you in, eyes bulging as they raked over you. You looked down, following his gaze. Shit. In your rush to see Bucky, you'd forgotten that your nightwear had consisted of some flimsy shorts and your bra - that you had thrown on after waking up to save a modicum of dignity, should someone burst into your room. It was too hot for anything else. You crossed your arms over your chest, which indefinitely made the issue worse as Bucky's eyes lifted way over your head.
"Looking good, babe!" Nat yells, walking across the landing toward you both. Clearly, Bucky had been intending to go on a run with her, maybe fit in a quick sparring session. You sent them on their way, with a 'have fun' and 'don't have too much fun.'
As soon as you were back in the comfort of your room, Nat elbowed Bucky hard.
"Oww! What the fuck was that for?" Rubbing his metal arm, for the convincing act.
"Oh please, you big baby. You have a fucking metal arm, get over yourself." She looked down, "You have a bit of a situation going on down there."
He looks down, embarrassment flushing his cheeks bright red, and subtly tucked his hard dick into his waistband.
"You wanna go sort that out? I won't hold it against you," Nat said, hitting the button to call the lift, "I promise not to tell Stark. Scout's honour." She jokingly holds up 3 fingers. Bucky swats her arm gently.
"No point."
Nat gasps, "No way. Don't tell me Mr. Winter Soldier can't have sex."
"Not sex," Bucky mumbles, "Just jerking off. Can't seem to - you know - finish."
Bucky had a history with Nat. They'd known each other for years. That kind of history made this kind of conversation somewhat less uncomfortable.
Nat burst into laughter. So much for not being uncomfortable.
The lift stopped on Sam's floor. He stepped in, gazing warily at the scene in front of him: the Black Widow doubled over in laughter, and the Winter Soldier embarrassed and uncomfortable in the corner.
He begged to be let in on the joke. Nat wheezed between laughs, "He - can't - fucking - cum!" Bursting into another bout of laughter, with Sam close behind, Bucky jumps out on the next floor, heading to the roof for some fresh air. He catches you up there, trying out some morning yoga. He sneaks up behind you as your stand up, grabbing your waist. You shriek, hitting him hard in the chest, before melting into his embrace once your brain caught up to the situation.
"Not fair!" You pouted, pausing your peaceful music, "Yoga's supposed to be peaceful!"
Bucky chuckles, pulling you into another hug, feeling you wrap your arms around his neck.
"I thought you were going on a run with Nat?" You whispered into his ear, your cheek resting on his clavicle.
"She ditched me for Sam." Bucky opted to leave out the real reason why he had left Nat and Sam in pieces in the elevator.
"Sucks to be you, Barnes!" You laugh pulling away and stepping back onto your mat. "Now leave me alone - just 'cause your friends abandoned you, doesn't mean you can bother me."
Bucky pouted, causing you to laugh before you turned back to your Yoga. He stood there and watched you for a minute, before heading back down to the gym. He strung up a punching bag, before wrapping his flesh wrist. Bucky took all his pent-up aggression and frustration out on the punching bag, allowing no respite between each jab, cross, and hook.
He stayed in the gym for over 3 hours, working every bit of stress out of his body. By the time he left the gym, the sun was high in the sky and a long day of paperwork and training awaited. Bucky headed up to his room for a quick shower - washing all the sweat off his body.
He felt lighter heading downstairs for breakfast - the weight of his arousal pushed far back in his mind. There was nothing he could do about it anyway.
Since deciding he would pursue you honestly, he couldn't seem to finish, no matter how hard he tried. You had been the only thing to push him over the edge - it seemed his body couldn't do it without you. It was frustrating beyond belief. He'd tried other things, porn, erotica, even thinking back to good times before the war. Nothing helped. It was as if his body was finetuned to you - only you knew the magic password to release him. Figuratively and literally.
When he reached the kitchen, he was privy to a welcome sight. You, in your combat gear, grabbing some granola bars before you jumped on the quinjet. You and Stark were heading on a surveillance mission in Guatemala for the week. You were reaching up to the top shelf, stretching on your tiptoes for the expensive granolas that had been kept on the top shelf. Bucky's granola bars that he had put there to stop anyone else from stealing them.
He reached up from behind you and grabbed the box, placing it in your hands. You looked guilty. You'd been caught red-handed.
"It's fine, doll. Take as many as you want." He said, leaning back against the counter, resting on his forearms. Your face flushed red as you grabbed 2 or 3, shoving them into your bag and turning around to fill up your water bottle.
You shivered when his hot breath fanned across your exposed neck, "Just remember that you owe me."
He was gone by the time you turned around.
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The rumour had spread like wildfire while you were away.
"Did you hear that Bucky can't have sex?"
"I heard that Bucky can't - you know - cum?"
"Apparently, his time at Hydra fucked him up worse than he realised."
"He can't even masturbate you know?"
The rumours were getting out of hand, but he let them swirl. There was an ounce of truth to them, even if Hydra had nothing to do with his current predicament.
No, that blame could only lie with you.
When you got back, Bucky had just left on a 4-day-long mission with Sam - which meant you heard all the rumours and Bucky wasn't there to defend himself.
You heard it first when you dropped your suit off for dry-cleaning. One of the tech guys was whispering to Marta, the woman who looked after the dry cleaning of suits, about Bucky's apparent inability to ejaculate. You were shocked. Where the hell did they even get that information? You dropped off your suit and headed back up to your room to shower.
You then heard another mention of it when you went to drop off your reports. Two of the agents that were being reassigned to Steve's team - that were currently on a month-long mission in Chad - were gossiping outside Tony's office.
" - and apparently she ran out crying. Thought she wasn't good enough for him or something along those lines. I don't know."
"Yeah, apparently the breakup was grizzly."
"I feel bad for him you know, all of the shit he went through with Hydra, and now this?"
"Yeah, man, really sucks."
Your face blushed a bright red. What the fuck? Where did this rumour even come from? You knew for a fact that Bucky hadn't had a girlfriend since living in the compound so wherever that part of the rumour came from was completely untrue.
You had to get to the bottom of this.
You spent the better part of the next 2 days collecting bits of information from conversations between people around the compound. You found out that the rumour had originated from a conversation between Nat and Sam, which an agent had overheard while they were on their run. It had been twisted as most oral stories were leading to this big misleading idea that Bucky was unable to even get it up and that he was unable to please a woman. You were sure the latter part was untrue. You'd heard the way he moaned alone in his room - you were sure that you could cum just from his moans alone. He wouldn't even need to touch you.
You didn't think the rumour would affect you when Bucky got back. After all, you knew at least some of it to be false. But when he got back, his beard grown out a little because he couldn't shave it while he was away, you felt embarrassed. Not because of his supposed 'predicament' but because you felt as if you had found out something that you maybe weren't supposed to know.
Bucky caught on quicker than you would have liked. The night after he got back, Tony had thrown a little get-together to 'celebrate midsummer'. Realistically, Tony just wanted a reason to go out and drink with his friends. You had avoided Bucky most of the night - not necessarily intentionally, but Bucky still felt slightly hurt and more than a little confused.
He caught you alone on the balcony, looking out at the stars.
"Did I do something?" He said, sneaking up behind you and making you jump. Nervousness and insecurity laced his every move, worried that he had hurt you in some way that he couldn't possibly imagine.
You shook your head violently, scared to make eye contact with him. He lifted your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his.
"What's wrong?" You turned back to face the sky, embarrassment filling your chest. He laced his metal fingers into yours, "You know you can tell me anything, right?"
"It's stupid."
"No, it's not. Nothing's stupid, not if it's you." Your heart fluttered at his words.
Your eyes met his steady gaze, "It's really stupid." His eyes begged you to go on, "It's just that - um - when I got back I - um - heardthisreallystupidrumourandIshouldn'thaveletitgettomebutbasically -"
Bucky placed a hand on your waist, drawing small circles, "Breathe."
"Someone said you had trouble pleasing women." You let out quietly. If it hadn't been for his enhanced hearing, he probably would have missed you. His grip on your waist tightened, "Bucky?"
"Trouble pleasing women? That's a new one." His deep voice cut you to your core. You let out a small whimper as the arousal pooled in your panties.
Bucky didn't miss that either.
He grabbed your arm and led you through the party. No one gave you a double look as he lead you into the vacant elevator, slamming your floor number and pushing you up against the wall.
"Think I can't please a woman, huh? Think again. Don't think I don't know what you think about when you cum all over your hand, whining my name under your breath." You whined lowly at his words, feeling how he pushed his hard dick perfectly in line with your throbbing pussy, "Isn't that right, slut? That's what you are, aren't you? My perfect little slut?" You moan at his degrading statement, pushing your pussy further onto his cock trying to find some friction.
"So needy," He tutted, his condescending tone only heightening your arousal. The elevator door pinged and Bucky picked you up bridal-style, kicking the door to your room open. You regularly forgot to lock it while heading down to dinner - for once, both you and Bucky were glad.
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He dropped you on your bed, unceremoniously, eyes raking over you ravenously. The heat rose up your face, as you shifted under his unrelenting gaze.
"Oh baby, you don't how long I've been waiting for this." He leaned down locking your lips in a passionate kiss. His palm landed just above your knee, caressing up your leg towards your upper thigh. His hand slid under your dress, cupping your ass. He left a light squeeze, making you gasp into the kiss.
He leaned down, grabbing you with ease, flipping you both so you were straddling his waist. He tangled his flesh hand in your hair, the metal one possessively gripping your hip. He brought you down to his lips for another kiss - even when you were on top, he made sure you knew that he was in charge.
He toyed with the hem of your dress, eyes raking over you once again.
"Off."
You pulled the dress over your head, leaving you in your bra and panties. You felt seriously underdressed, especially considering Bucky was still in his jacket. He reaches up, joining your lips in another kiss, and reaching around to remove your bra. He tosses it to the side, running his knuckles over your pebbled nipples. You moan loudly, panties soaked. He takes his time pinching and squeezing your nipples, licking and biting as he went. The alternate sensations of one warm hand and one ice-cold heighten your arousal ten-fold. You buck your hips over his jeans, the sensation of his fly between your sensitive folds throwing you into overdrive.
His grip on your waist tightened once again. "I can feel your cunt throbbing, honey." You whimpered pathetically. "Go ahead, use me to get off. I know you want to."
Your hips started bucking off their own accord, clothed pussy running over the fly of his jeans. They started slow, getting a feel for what exactly you were doing. Bucky's hands started pushing you faster, setting a faster groove. The coil in your stomach began to tighten as your bucking became more erratic. You teetered on the edge of an orgasm when Bucky stopped you.
"Beg." He restarted your pace, faster and more erratic than before.
"Please, please, please, please, Bucky, please let me cum, please..-" You babbled, tripping and stumbling through your pleas. With a searing kiss, he gives you permission.
"I love you, I love you, I love, OH-" You fall off the edge of one of the hardest orgasms you've ever had, head empty with only one thing on your mind. Bucky.
You feel Bucky manhandle your body so your back is lying on the bed and he is towering over you. He asks you if you want to go on and all you can do is nod your head vigorously.
He chuckles, "I like your enthusiasm baby, but I need words. Can you do that for me?"
"Yes, YES!" You shout, breathlessly, already needing more.
He's fully naked and it's all you can do to not stare. He's definitely a well-endowed man, and he definitely has no problem getting it up.
"Like what you see?" He smirks, and you slap his thigh playfully. He pulls you further toward the edge of the bed and lines his dick up with your slick folds. He slides in slowly, holding your chin up so you keep eye contact with him. He watches as your eyes roll to the back of your head in satisfaction. You've never felt so full in your life. He presses into you slowly, feeling the way your tightness engulfs him, allowing your body to adjust to his size. You whimper softly as he pushes in - you never realised just how desperate you were for him.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?" He chuckles, watching as tears leak out of your eyes. His condescending tone was back, and all it did was make you hornier. You babbled incoherently, "Gone dumb already? What a cock-drunk little slut you are."
He trails a metal finger up the side of your torso, watching the goosebumps left in its wake. You whimper again.
"Such a needy little baby. Only I can take care of you like this, right? Only me."
"Only you." You affirmed, pressing a kiss to the arm near your head.
He pulled out almost entirely, before slamming all the way back in. You screamed in pleasure, and Bucky set a brutal pace. He pinned your arms above your head with his right hand, and his left hand came to wrap around your throat. The significance of that was not lost on you. He loved you enough to not hurt you, even with his metal arm.
"I love you, baby. You know that right?" Bucky looked you deep in the eyes, "You know I love you right?"
"I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you," You babble back, lost in the throes of passion.
Bucky found your clit with his metal hand, pressing and flicking gently. You felt your muscles tighten for a second time, and you grabbed the sheets throwing your head back as you came harder than the first time.
Bucky came moments later, deep inside you with a loud moan. He pulled out slowly, collapsing next to you. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling yourself into his neck.
He chuckled at that, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a bear hug. You stayed like that for a minute before he untangled himself from you and carried you to the bathroom.
He turned on the shower and you both stepped under it, cleaning the sweat and cum off your bodies. Your legs felt like jelly, so you leaned heavily into Bucky as he washed you off.
"Stay awake, doll, just for a second," He said, shaking you awake each time you dozed off in the shower.
Bucky pulled some of your clothes onto your body, before setting you down on the bed. He gave you a quick kiss to the forehead before promising to be back soon.
He snuck into his room wrapped in a towel, before throwing on the first pair of sweats he could find and dashing to the kitchen for a cup of water.
He snuck back into your room, to see you already dead asleep on the bed. He slipped under the covers, tugging you closer to his chest, and smiled.
Through your grogginess, you nuzzled into his chest. "I love you." You whispered, your lips resting against his heart.
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You woke up to the sound of soft snoring in your ear and sunlight streaming through the window. You smiled. You untangled yourself from Bucky's arms, disappearing into your bathroom to pee. You wash your face and brush your teeth before diving back into Bucky's arms.
Your legs were still sore from last night, but you didn't care. You were Bucky's and Bucky was yours. The very thought put a massive smile on your face.
"What's tickled your feather this morning?" Goddamn, his morning voice was sexy. You smiled and pressed a hard kiss to his lips.
Bucky smiled through the kiss. He picked you up by the thighs, carrying you while he brushed his teeth and splashed his face.
The compound was pretty silent, barely anyone was awake after drinking the night away. So, while Bucky made you pancakes for breakfast, you asked him the question, "Hey, Buck, where did the rumour come from?"
He looked at you, vaguely embarrassed, "You know that day, when me and Nat were gonna go down to train?"
You face flushed red, "When I walked out in my underwear?"
"Yeah," he chuckled, "I got a hard-on, like a teenage boy."
You stifled a laugh.
"So, Nat said, do I wanna go deal with it? And I told her I couldn't."
You looked at him confused, "Why not?"
"Cause of you," he said simply. You looked at him even more confused, "You were the only thing I got get off to. I tried everything else. Porn, erotica, even thinking about old sex. Nothing worked."
You flushed red again. "Oh god, I've weirded you out, haven't I?" You broke off his impending spiral with a kiss.
"I love you." You said, placing a kiss on his bare chest.
He looked at you with such love and reverence that you felt like you might combust under his gaze.
He kissed you again and all you could think was, "I love you, I love you, I love you."
I love you, I love you, I love you.
I love you I love you I love you.
fin.
buy me a coffee
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ickadori · 1 month
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“You’re my boyfriend, Zayne, not my doctor.”
You huff as he shakes out a multivitamin gummy into the palm of his hand to join the rest of your pills that you had been forgetting —neglecting— to take.
“Is it not a boyfriend’s duty to look after his girlfriend’s health? If so, I have no problem ending this relationship to reinstate you as my patient.” His eyes slide over to meet yours, and you huff again, this time louder than the last, and thrust your hand out so he can drop the pills and gummies into it. “Smart choice.”
He slides you a prepared glass of water, the condensation leaving a wet streak across the counter, and he wipes it up with a paper towel. Your fingers close around the glass as you go to take the first pill, only for his voice to make you freeze.
“Have you eaten breakfast yet? Taking those on an empty stomach will make you nauseous.” He’s moving towards the pantry before you can even answer.
You blink at his back as your thumb idly rubs at the white pill. “It will? Hm…” Maybe that’s why you had felt violently ill every time you took your medicine - you were a chronic breakfast-skipper. “No, I haven’t eaten yet.”
“Does homemade pancakes, eggs, and sausages sound fine to you?” Your mouth waters at the thought, and your stomach voices its approval with a low growl. “I’ll take as a yes.” His voice is amused as he turns his head to look at you over his shoulder, and you shoot a bashful smile his way before placing your pills a bit to the side so they’re out of the way.
“Do you even have time to make all that? You have a surgery this afternoon, don’t you?” A sudden wave of guilt comes crashing over you, and your eyebrows pull together as you watch him grab all the ingredients. Zayne took care of people at work all day, and nearly everyday, and now here he was taking care of you in the small slot of time he had to relax before being thrust back into work, and all because you’re adverse to taking a few pills.
“There’s plenty of time left before I have to head in and start preparing. Don’t worry.” He assures, and you prop your chin up on your fist with a quiet sigh, knowing it’s no use trying to convince him of anything different.
He works quickly yet efficiently as he prepares everything, his gaze drifting over to you every so often. Soon enough, your apartment is filled with the scent of a delicious smelling breakfast and a plate filled with food is being placed down in front of you along with a fork.
Zayne props his forearms on the marble of the island you’re sat at and nods towards your food. “Eat.”
“A please would be nice.”
“A thank you would be nice.”
“A kiss would be nice.”
“Would it?” A smile tugs at his lips, and you nod with a hum as you pick up your fork. “I think so, too. Perhaps I’ll give you one once your plate is empty and those pills are gone.”
“Pinky promise?” You hold your pinky out to him, and he gives a soft shake of his hair, black hair swishing as he lets out a soft chuckle and twines his finger with yours.
“You’re such a child sometimes.”
“I keep you young.” You cut off a section of your pancakes and stuff it into your mouth, the sweet taste of the syrup coating your tastebuds and making you sigh. “An yawt.” You say around a mouthful of food, and he raises a brow as he moves your glass of water closer to you, but not before using his evol to make it ice cold.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full - you’ll choke.”
You swallow before speaking, fork already moving to gather another bite.
“So? You’re a doctor, you can just give me the heimlich.” It’s his turn to sigh.
“Just eat your food.”
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churipu · 5 days
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OUTFIT CHECK 𓆝 ⋆。𖦹°‧
ִ ࣪𖤐 featuring. gojo satoru, nanami kento, iatdori yuuji x reader
ִ ࣪𖤐 warnings. jjk men being in love with you.
note. i'm back! i managed to fit in writing this in the middle of my midterms, i just finished my qualitative research paper for the midterms and i have 3 more take home exams to do. i hope you like this piece <33
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𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔
you stood in front of the mirror, shifting your body from side to side, eying your reflection from different angles. raising a brow, you heaved out a soft sigh — before eventually twirling to face gojo who had been sitting on the edge of the bed. his icy blue eyes had been gazing at you for as long as you've been standing in front of the mirror against your reflection.
"'toru, do you think i look—"
gojo hushes you, putting a finger onto your lips, shutting you up immediately, "no, you don't look bad, and no your outfit doesn't look weird. you look beautiful," he rattles with a small smile.
"but i just feel like something's wrong with my combination," you said, stepping back to disperse from his finger, "like something's out of place. i just don't know what . . ."
gojo slipped an arm across your shoulder, turning your body to face your reflection, "i don't see anything wrong with your outfit or you, baby — you're really pretty . . . and i look pretty amazing too," he winked cheekily at the mirror, kissing the side of your face.
the male had been sitting on the edge of the bed, paying attention to you analyzing your own outfit for the past fifteen minutes. twirling here and there, stepping backwards and forwards cluelessly. the male didn't see anything wrong with your outfit or you, in fact, you looked absolutely stunning in his point of view.
his comment made you break a small smile.
"is this top too revealing?" you turn your back to the mirror, revealing a slight peek at your fragrant s/c skin.
"baby, baby," he scoffs, "i'm the strongest, i can fight, you know? and you look beautiful in that top, you should wear it often, yeah?" his slender fingers grazes over your exposed skin gently, sending shivers down your spine.
a string of laughter escaped your throat, "i love you, you know that?"
the male leaned in and pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, "i love you more. no complaints."
𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎
"do you think the top suits the bottom?" you asked nanami after changing into your third pants of the day — brows furrowed in frustration as nothing seemed to be clicking.
nanami raised his eyes from the book he had in his grasp, "you look beautiful," he complimented yet again for the third time.
"kento, how am i supposed to pick an outfit when you keep complimenting them all? help me pick one, will you?" nanami didn't understand why you were insistent on the 'mismatched' outfit (at least you think it is).
but in his eyes, everything seemed well-matched. he'd say it's a 11/10 for your ability to match these outfits of yours, "how? you look beautiful in them all."
groaning out, you raise two bags. a black and sage green bag, "pick one."
nanami inspected the two bags and then looked back at your outfit briefly, "the sage green one would fit perfectly with your outfit now," he pointed.
"okay. how about a jacket, do you think i'll need one?" you questioned, rummaging through the closet, "you always have a hunch of what i'd feel, it's your judgement."
he pondered your words for a bit, "take a jacket. forecast said it's going to be cold tonight, i don't want you getting sick."
you chuckled and bobbed your head, "right. anything else i should bring?"
"pepper spray."
"check."
"be careful, yes? call me if anything happens," nanami whispers, standing up from the bed — initially he wanted to come along with you to meet your friends. but he thought that he'd be a bother to you so he stopped himself from asking, "i love you so much."
"i love you more," you kissed his lips, to which he returned.
"let's drop you there, hm?" nanami grabs your hips, giving your flesh a slight squeeze, leading you out of the house.
𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈 𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐉𝐈
"y/n, do you — oh, wow."
yuuji stood, a hand on the handle of the door he just opened and another on the doorway. his jaw dropped at the sight of you, his partner.
you stood in front of a mirror, blinking cluelessly at his reaction. not knowing whether it was his surprise because of how good you looked or the other way around, "yuuji? do i what?"
yuuji blinked himself back into reality, entering the room mutely, his back leaned onto the shut door, "where are you off to?"
shaking your head you gazed back at your reflection, "i'm just mix and matching for a hang out with nobara tomorrow, does this look funny?"
he shook his head harshly, "no, no, you look really nice! really pretty," yuuji honestly said before inhaling, you quite literally took his breath away.
"really? the color suits?" you asked, pinching the shirt you're wearing, "is the pants a bit too short?"
yuuji stood still, "no . . . you — wow, you just look so pretty y/n. i don't know what else to tell you . . ." he whispers, entranced by your figure as he detached his back from the door to approach you.
mustering out a smile, you gave him a hug, "thanks yuuji, you're the best."
he nuzzled his nose into your hair, "you're so beautiful," yuuji mumbled before kissing the crown of your head.
all of a sudden, yuuji pulls back, his face stern and a frown on his face, "how come you're going out with kugisaki and i'm not invited?" he asks you, narrowing his eyes.
"baby, i promise it's just me and her. i'll get you something special on the way back and then we can watch movies? your pick." you pinched his cheeks gently.
"any movies?"
you nod, "any movies."
"okay! deal." yuuji beams out, kissing your cheek.
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© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE
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Your Touch
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Ghost x Reader
Ghost likes getting his back rubbed at night.
SFW, Extreme Fluff, Back Rubs, Cuddles, Pre-established Relationship, Hurt and Comfort, Touch-Starved!Ghost, Ghost is soft and vulnerable in this, Drabble, Scarcely Proofread
How about some fluff amidst all the smut I've been working on. 💞
Masterlist
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"I don't quite know how to ask this, but..."
Simon's eyes dipped down quickly from yours, back towards the ceiling, a sudden rush of shyness and vulnerability running through this large, deadly man like a tidal wave. Once a suitable amount of seconds had passed, he turned his body to face you, the entire bed shifting against his form and tugging at the covers.
"...Could you rub me?"
Your lips curve into a crooked and playful smile as you turn on the bed to face him, your hands resting comfortably sandwiched between your head and your pillow.
"Rub you?" You say, fingers playfully beginning to sift through the covers towards his lower half. "Your wish is my command, Si'."
Your hands have just reached the waistband of his sweatpants when you suddenly feel a strong grip gently take hold over your wrist.
You hesitate at first, immediately fearful that you've suddenly overstepped a boundary or done something wrong; since beginning your relationship with Simon, you've done the most to be respectful of his pace. If he wished you to stop then you would, no questions asked. But you catch his eyes -- dark brown orbs half-lidded and wavering. You knew this had been something else.
He could have you continue; go on with feeling your skin slide against his before you've found the better parts of him you'd been yearning for. Have your small fingers dance and tug at him until you've pulled the night-time exhaustion he'd been looking for out of him. He could have that happen and have no complaints at all. He knows he always could.
And yet he holds your hand back, keeping your touch as far away as his brooding gaze had suddenly become.
"Not that," he says. "Not tonight at least, love. I meant rub me like..."
Like the first night you ever rubbed him. A night spent longer than most together in bed wrapped in one another's arms. Your breathing was a soft tune his ears could follow along to as he rested, your arms better than any blanket he could have.
As he laid on top of you, an innocent gesture on his part, your hand slipped beneath his shirt. Before long he had felt your fingers softly glide over the most neglected parts of his back, tracing small lines and circles.
Touch never came gentle to Simon; it has always been a sick and harmful thing. To feel a touch now so sweet and with care, without even having to ask, the man had felt unworthy by nature. And mostly he had felt sorrow, in many degrees beyond its own self. 
If this is what a loving touch had truly felt like -- like safety and peace -- it turned his stomach at times to be aware that he never felt such a thing in his life until now. Not from anyone beyond his mother. A short-lived time that left as quickly as it remained. But nothing had been this. He knew that the moment he felt you.
He remembers not wanting that night to ever end. And he remembers how fast it had put him to sleep as well. Since that day he's silently enjoyed your hands running against him innocently, never quite finding the strength to ask you outright to do it more often until now. 
What had made tonight different, he couldn't say. But even now, with your hands in his, patiently listening to him, he just wanted you to touch him more. Extend your body out to him and remind him of his own humanity.
"I don't know how to describe it..." Simon says, though he'd partly been lying.  He could describe in full detail what he wanted if it didn't make him feel so frail doing so.
But you smile, seeing the bashful glint in his brown eyes and understanding the man's hesitancy to be more upfront. "I understand."
You slip your hand from him and gently curve it over his body beneath the covers, scooting your way over until your short arms finally manage to reach his back. 
Your fingers gently comb over his skin, grazing him faintly with your nails, as you've begun to let your hand trails up his spine from the lower half of his back all the way up to the base of his neck. You let your finger pass each link of his spine beneath his skin, feeling the goosebumps you had risen over his entire body. 
Simon lets out a gruff groan and sinks into your arms, letting his head begin to nuzzle into your chest, and giving you a better angle to rub him. "You're too good to me love," he says. 
His continued little adjustments only make you laugh. "It's the least I can do for you, Simon."
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A/N: I'm participating in Kinktober somewhat, but I might mix in more fluff and angst pieces as well. Just to throw in some variety ^^
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irisintheafterglow · 7 months
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[bernie sanders voice] i am once again.. thinking about coparenting megumi with boyfriend!satoru.
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"so you're both megumi's..."
"guardians," you smile politely, praying stupid shit doesn't leave the mouth of the boy next to you. it's wishful thinking.
"yes," he beams so tenderly that you resist the urge to scrunch your nose in disgust. he takes your clammy hand lightly in his and turns back to megumi's teacher. "we had him young." a soft ow comes from under satoru's breath as you kick him under the table, forcing an expression of normalcy onto your face.
you hated parent-teacher conferences because it reminded you just how abnormal megumi and tsumiki's situation was. they had no parents, nor did they have any close relatives that cared for them the way a family should. that left you and the white-haired idiot in the tiny seat next to you to fill in that duty, and between missions and training students, you weren't around as often as you wanted to be.
"i...see," the teacher says hesitantly, eyeing your boyfriend with obvious unease. after a moment, she regains her composure and refocuses on you completely. "is there anything you wish to discuss before we begin?"
"not for me, no."
"when can we get him bumped up a grade? or have him skip one altogether?" every single word that comes from satoru's mouth is a joke but it still has your face burning with embarrassment that you were associated with him. "you know, i skipped a few grades when i was young."
"i can tell," you whisper and he pinches the flesh of your thigh between two fingers in defiance.
"i believe that skipping grades would be unwise at this time, as we haven't done any testing yet-"
"he was kidding, i swear," you say apologetically and, thankfully, the teacher continues as if on a script.
"i see. well, megumi is progressing wonderfully in the class. he's very adept at reading and writing, but he does struggle with math sometimes. it's nothing to be worried about; many children struggle with math at his age." you nod in understanding but grimace inwardly. megs always wanted you to help him with math homework since satoru became frustrated with the problems faster than the actual 2nd grader.
"for being the strongest, he's not that smart," megumi stated bluntly one night while you helped him on a coffee table in the teacher's lounge. you'd sent satoru on a walk around campus after his distress was clearly bothering megumi, who ended up suffering more from satoru's "help" than benefiting. "you're not around that much anymore to help me so i don't know what to do." his tiny eyebrows furrow and you reach out to run your fingers through his spiky black hair.
"i'm really sorry i'm not around as much anymore. do you want me to ask nanami? he handles math all the time."
"i think that'd be worse than satoru."
"you can't get much worse than satoru, buddy," you concede and his mouth turns up a little bit. nothing like a little insulting his mentor to get the boy's mood improved. still, his frown returns like it's his default expression.
"what if i can't do it? what if i'm not like everyone else?" it made your chest ache in a different way when megumi or his sister said something like that, like they were well aware that they weren't normal children. your heart panged for them and mourned their loss of a "normal" childhood just because they were born into a big three clan. it wasn't fair and it was something you lamented to satoru almost every week. you couldn't tell the boy any of that, though, no matter how much you wanted to explain why he wasn't like the rest of the kids in his class.
"just try your best, okay? sometimes, that's all we can do. you're already doing great by asking for help. it's not your fault if someone doesn't know how to help you, so just keep trying." he nodded determinedly; after another hour past dinnertime, you finally finished walking him through the rest of the problems while satoru draped his lanky body over the couch behind you, watching defeatedly over your shoulder.
"is there anything we can do to help him with math?" you ask, unconsciously weaving your fingers with satoru's and giving it a light squeeze. he squeezes back three times. i-love-you.
"he just needs a little reassurance that he's on the right track sometimes."
"mmm, don't we all," you murmur and you don't expect the teacher to laugh softly under her breath, muttering her agreement. before you know it, you've organized megumi's papers into his folder and picked him up from the playground outside his classroom, taking his hand as you walk back to the car.
"your teacher says you're doing well in class."
"really?"
"mhmm, though i didn't need her to tell me that since i already know." you shoot him a small smile, leaning into satoru's body as his arm wraps around your torso. "you, however, need to learn some manners," you lightheartedly tease, knocking your elbow against his abs. "you were not helping in there, you menace."
"it was boring, what do you want me to do?" his tone is so carefree, so comfortingly satoru it made your heart melt.
"it's a parent-teacher conference, not parents. you could have waited outside if you were so bored. went to play on the playground or something." his head dips close to your ear and you feel some strands of his hair brush against your skin.
"but then i don't get to watch you be all mature and put-together."
"trying to follow my example?"
"trying to break your composure," he corrects with a sly grin. "i'm the fun one, after all."
"that's one way to put it," megumi deadpans without hesitation and you stifle a snort.
"i'm one of a kind!"
"you're out of your mind, is what you are." before he can protest, you press a kiss to his cheek and he turns a slightly opaquer shade of pink. "but i wouldn't have you any other way."
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satoruhour · 7 months
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YES 2 HEAVEN
a/n: continuation of this. ARRRGHHH also i swear i couldve written this better i kinda hate this lol / tagging @jabamin @shotorus @hyomagiri @crysugu @valberry @lov3rbody ✶
wc: 4.1k (got carried away again ! lord help me)
warnings: dad!gojo, fem!reader, he is enamoured with you, dom!gojo, calls you ‘mama’, also like slight daddy kink, sex while pregnant, lactation kink, pregnancy kink, implied f! masturbation, oral / cunnilingus, fingering, clit stimulation, praise, pet names, spitting, mating press, multiple rounds, overstimulation, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut
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✶ dilf!gojo . . .
. . . who, when you were pregnant, could never get enough of your glow. sure, you’d look tired and worn out half the time but gojo thought you never looked better cradling your belly whilst you took your afternoon nap, or when you’d do some light chores around the house (you won over gojo trying to stop you). not to mention, your breasts were fuller and heavier with milk, soaking through your slip dresses often that he’s had to hide his hard-on more and more.
. . . who, on more than one occasion has had your tits caged within his hand: watching television, in naps, sex, he was unbelievably obsessed with the way the fabric around your nipples would leak and darken in colour. all he wanted was to knead them as he eats up your delicious moans, sucking hickies into your throat and holding your baby bump with his other hand. and then when satoru first peels the dress off of you, he whimpers, admiring the way your tits lactate and leak milk from its tip.
“s—satoru—” you’re sat sideways on his lap like the sweet girl you are and the first contact of his tongue around your nipple makes you let out a long moan. the sensitivity is all too much for you together with the heaviness of your belly and your hormones spiking and your husband simply smiles into your skin. he slurps at the liquid that drips from your tits, groaning into your breasts and the vibrations makes you clench your thighs together. it doesn’t go unnoticed by him when he’s got his hand between them, playing lazily with your clit and he presses a little harshly into your bundle of nerves and it draws such a beautiful cry and a spurt of your milk from your nipples right into his mouth. satoru cleans up well, noises similar to when he’d eat you out, “mmh… such perfect tits, mama, leaking so much milk just f’r me.” ✶
. . . whose hands look more rugged than he was young, fingertips a certain roughness to it from the boxes of the furniture of the nursery he’s carried to the training he still partakes in for young sorcerers. but they look especially pretty when he cuts up strawberries and bananas for your pancakes and later on, a teacup that barely makes its appearance in his hand from just how large he was in comparison to your baby girl’s tea set. your eyes also like to trail his hands as they skillfully weave your girl’s hair in a braid, hypnotised in which he uses his teeth to drag the hair tie to his fingers. satoru has a different opinion — he likes to see it on your belly when he wants to feel the baby kick and on your plush thighs when he’s teasing you, so close yet so far to your uncomfortable cunt.
. . . who uses your badly shaven job against you when his lips graze along your still full breasts and down to your torso. you can feel him drag the stubble against your inner thighs and it’s like he’s relishing in the way you squirm and thrash around on the bed, but the gojo below you is the culmination of multiple years of missions and caring for a baby girl. he looks so damn stunning between your legs as he usually does, except his features are more wrinkly and lenient and gentle, white strands turning just a little silver — it may just be the trick of the light.
but the way he eats you out has never changed — he’s already gone past making you beg for it. a hand on your inner thighs, caressing the skin and letting him do his damage, but it’s usually not long that gojo needs to hear you. “i heard you like this?” he laughs as he uses his teeth to pull at your underwear as he lifts your hips like you weigh nothing and his eyes are fixated on the way you’re leaking so much that there’s a string of arousal that connects your panties to your pussy. “’toru . .” you’re whining, grasping at nothing ’cause your belly was just too big. he finds your hand easily and twines your fingers. “yeah, angel?” with your legs propped up, he can appreciate the glory of your soaking pussy, and he thinks your tummy just looks divine, carrying a whole new life within it and still looking beautiful as ever. you preen when his mouth licks a stripe up your cunt and you can practically feel the stubble along your pussy lips. “mmh— was made to eat your pussy out, mama.” it’s no different from before. gojo eats you out with his skillful tongue, lapping at your folds and clit messily. you’re squeezing his hands at the intense sensations and he squeezes right back, other hand slowly drawing circles around your clenching, needy hole.
“look at ‘er,” gojo moans softly in awe as his finger parts your folds and he eases it in, your cunt automatically clamping down. you were right — they did feel rougher, bigger — it’s like you can feel the pads of his fingers and the lines on his digits. “so damn wettt . .” gradually he adds another and starts pumping them, moaning alongside you as your filthy husband nuzzles the bottom of his face into your sex and the prickle of his facial hair is so prominent — you just have to grind your hips onto his face. “careful of the baby, darling.” he lightly warns, fairly muffled, but he lets his little wife continue whatever she’s doing. “’toru, ’toru— needa c-cum . .” you’re whimpering, looking like a greek goddess as you’re dripping, dripping, all over satoru’s chin. “yeah? give it to daddy, baby, c’mon.” he moans into your clit, slurping up your juices mercilessly as his fingers reach so deep in you. “that’s right, that’s my girl— oooh fuckk . . . so much cum for me—” you’re cumming with a loud cry, plump thighs squeezing his head and he only presses his tongue deeper into your core as flood his tongue with your juices. he smacks his lips together and shoots you a smirk, “what a sweet thing my lil wife is — sweetest pussy too.” ✶
. . . who has to fuck you at least once while you’re pregnant, but he hadn’t imagined he would get so addicted to the look of your body rocking back and forth, so limp and pliant for him, especially with how he could easily do anything to you with how strong he was and yet you’re surrending everything up to him. satoru who has you in all sorts of positions where he can look at your supple breasts bounce as you cradle the baby in anxiety with one arm and the other is lining his back in red. and he hadn’t expected you’d be so horny too.
. . . whose dick you just can’t get enough of, pouncing on him once he’s gotten home from missions all sweaty and out of breath and your heart gets caught in your throat. guiding your hand to your little cunt when you wake in the morning to his toned chest and the look of soon-to-be-father looking so good on him. sending him little voice notes as you go on appointments by yourself (gojo hates himself for having a mission clash), but the contrast of your husband’s tear-filled apology before your needy audios is a stark contrast, fingers rubbing at your clit in the hospital toilet, unsatisfied. high-pitched whines whenever his cock would kiss your cervix juuust right and moaning how you want his cum in you, again
your husband throws his head back when he first sinks into you, but not before he slaps his cock along your folds, already soaking the sheets from the four times he’s made you cum. “f—fuck, so warm in here, baby.” gojo presses your hands to his lips and lays multiple kisses along it, even licking at your fingers and keeping his eyes locked on you while plunging them into your mouth. the gesture is sensual, hips rocking into you while his tongue glides over your fingers; he brings it to your clit after, helping you and satoru hopes he wouldn’t cum too early. especially when your hair is all splayed out with that glow along your cheeks. the position accentuate the curves of your body and your swelling stomach, and fuck, if he could paint, the image of your anatomy would be burned into his brain. “s’full, daddy.” he simply caresses your sore belly, “yeah? is it now?” he’s buried all the way to the hilt and the deepness sends a chill up your spine, “takin’ me like the good girl you are.”
“satoru, satoru, mmhhfuck,” your hands are holding into his forearms so tightly as he rocks into you, legs wrapped around his waist to trap him with your pussy and you truly wish your baby bump would be bigger so you didn’t have to look at your husband’s fucked out face and sweaty locks, grunts leaving his mouth as he continues to fuck into you with firm, solid thrusts. “w-what is it, sweeth— s-shit, this pussy’s too fuckin’ good.” you mewl at the words, staring up at him through hooded lids and a lax jaw. “tell me what— fuucck— you want, baby,” your words are beyond comprehensible, so you only can moan louder and babble over and over again, “cum— wan’ your cum, wan’ your cum, ’toru!” and gojo has a full blown aneurysm at the way you beg even when you were already knocked up. gojo’s breath and hips stutter at the way you hold onto his arm and plead, cumming straight into the warmth of your cunt with a loud groan. “don’t know how much i love your cunt, sweets.” ✶
. . . who, once you give birth to your baby girl, has never stopped thirsting over you, but he’s a little more considerate in letting your body rest. most of the time he’s pleasuring you just as you were with your baby bump, always the quickest to stand up and run to the nursery when he’d hear the baby’s cries or pass off him being between your legs as just wrestling as your darling girl gets another terrible nightmare. satoru has put you first, always, but lately the chivalrous acts that he’s been doing is landing you in a position of a dilemma — between decorum of a mother and the filthiness of a wife whose husband is just too hot.
. . . who stands out to you more with his new found love for tight black shirts and low riding sweatpants, always prancing around the penthouse with it glued to his body and accentuates just the best parts of his body. you weren’t sure if it was the post pregnancy hormones doing its job or whatever, but there are many times where you can see yourself staring a little too much: on movie nights when he manspreads and adjust his hips, one hand tucked behind the sofa and you can see the muscles in his arm moving. all gojo asks is “take a picture. it’ll last longer, baby,” and you just roll your eyes, but not before one more glance to his inviting lap. when it’s the morning and you’re already up tending to the baby, bouncing her around and breastfeeding her before your head snaps to the low, raspy greeting and you’re blessed with satoru and his arm up on the doorframe, watching you. he’s yawning and scratching at his torso while the sweatpants ride low, showing a peek of his v-line and happy trail. he’s giving you the sweetest, yet somehow sexiest smile as he saunters up to you, surrounded by his toned body and strong arms.
. . . who knows what he’s doing when he sees your distracted stares to the point your baby girl has to drag your hand full of food to her mouth; or in times of sleepiness in the dawn where all he wears are boxers and he has the gift of hearing your not so quiet gasp when you see him emerge from the bathroom after his morning skincare. what really seals the deal though, is the day you had a reunion with the students of jujutsu high, a nice little picnic out near tokiwa bridge and gojo just had to show his girls off — what was meant to be a wholesome day turned into thoughts of your husband’s physique as he challenges nanami to a “carry-off”, the still stoic sorcerer not even bothering to participate as gojo swoops you both into his arms. your daughter on his right and you on his left, and you’re scrambling to grab his shoulder. it sinks into you like an anchor: just how fit he was, the lines of his tense arm, the cheeky wink he sends to you while you’re up there. you only hope he can’t feel your pussy throb from that.
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“you alright, darling?” your baby’s asleep comfortably on your chest, and your eyes can only burn holes into the hand that’s resting on your thigh, swallowing before facing your husband who only seemed to get hotter the more he ages. when you turn to him he’s already looking at you, a lopsided smile on his face before he breaks eye contact and steps on the gas when the traffic light turns green, letting out a loaded exhale when you grab his hand and twine your fingers.
that two person carry has been etched onto your mind long after you’ve reached the penthouse along with everything that’s been going on, but you’re interrupted when satoru squeezes your hand, pulling you into his embrace while keeping your darling girl asleep. he’s skilled at that, as he is with his lips, pressing a deep kiss to your mouth. you can feel your stomach turn with anticipation, tasting his gloss as he whispers “should we order takeout tonight?”
you hum, “i can cook, ’toru.”
his hands feel hot on your waist, “rest today, baby. we did spend a whole day in the hot sun,” they draw circles on your lower back, “plus, we have that event tomorrow, don’t wanna tire you out.”
“the event’s at night you goof,” you laugh, a slow hand stroking your daughter’s hair. stark white and striking as always.
“still.” he grins and winks like there’s some ulterior motive, leaning in to kiss you again before your girl rouses and yawns.
“good morning, my love.” satoru coos as she finds her bearings, looking around in confusion and only being able to focus on her father’s hand on her hair.
“na-na-min?” the awkward plea in her voice would drive gojo to burn the world down, to call nanami right now to meet up again, but he knows all that would only warrant annoyance. he could call yuji, but he did mention something about having dinner with his partner tonight.
gojo feels bad to be breaking her heart like this, “no, darling, ’m sorry.” his heart breaks even more when she breaks into a slight cry and he attempts to quell her sobs by baby-talking her.
“c’mon, why don’t you let papa carry you, and mama can head off to take care of herself, hm?” he suggests with a big grin, mood changing instantly as he plucks her out of your arms, again emphasising his strong arms when they hold her on one side and curl another around you. “go clean up first. i’ll settle dinner for her.”
but the shower seemed to be a bad idea at the time, emerging from the steamy bathroom to see your husband with his shirt off and the baby already all cleaned up and fed. she was swaddled in her most comfortable blanket, the fabric of it peeping out from the side as your eyes focus on the rippling muscles of gojo’s back. he bounces the baby gently as he burps her, muttering little praises and sounds.
“oh, baby—” he catches sight of you in the doorway in a towel and he only smiles, not knowing how you were trying to digest just how broad his shoulders were and how small his waist was. had he always been so fine?
“heard about skin to skin contact with your baby,” he whispers, “says it increases our bond.”
and if you could, you’d drag him back to the chapel all over again to renew your vows, because you didn’t expect him to be such a sap. you also didn’t expect him to read you so well. the baby’s asleep and it’s well past midnight, masking yet another shaky sigh when your body sinks more into his side.
“satoru—”
“yeeess . .?” 
you stand up with vigour you didn’t think you have, plopping yourself down onto his lap and all he does is smile slyly. the way his bare body moves as he leans back is enough drive for you to shut him up.
“haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”
“oh? you have a crush on me?”
so infuriating as always. you roll your eyes and grind down on him, igniting such a familiar and archaic feeling that you haven’t felt in a long time: his bulge against you, the soft groan he lets out. he’s always been treating you time and time, and yet he puts his own needs on hold. a perfect husband like him waited only for you to initiate things, and yet you wonder why it took you so long. maybe it was the baby taking up most of your time, maybe it was him being on missions and coming home dead-beat tired.
maybe you knew you’d never turn back if you indulged yourself — pushing out a whole baby wasn’t exactly easy. but you’ve missed him. on you, in you.
“we’re married, you dumbass.”
“still in disbelief, my bad.” gojo laughs, “is there anything you wanna tell me?”
you sigh, pulling him to you so your foreheads would touch. you breathe onto his lips — “please take care of me.”
oh, gojo satoru did take care of you and more, burying his face between your legs and making you cum over and over. he made your voice hoarse and your thighs ache, juices soaking the sheets from just how wet you were.
“oh, you needed this, huh?”
“shut up.” gojo moans when you push him back onto your cunt, already having orgasmed thrice just from his tongue. he was skillful and he knew it, just as much as he knew just how tight you’d be when he smeared your cum all over your pussy and pushed past your folds. satoru whines at the tightness, at having missed your cunt wrapped around him for so long that he can tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.
“f—fuck . . so fuckin’ good, s’tight . .” you’re not that well off, either, thinking the shower was a waste of water as your sweaty stomach heaved in anticipation while he bottomed out. gojo cries out in a choked moan, “you feel so g—good, mama.”
“w-who’s needing it now?” you breathe out, fingers digging into his shoulders so harshly it hurt. you catch a glimpse of satoru’s smile and a shake of his head — you’d need to be carried tomorrow, for sure.
he pulls out and slams back in so accurately you let out a loud moan, insides turning to mush after so long. the feel of him filling you up is like none other, pussy gripping onto him like a vice. you can’t remember the last time you let him take you.
“so p-perfect for me—” gojo rasps out, looking at you drunkenly. the mother of his child, his wife, it weighs on him and he just thinks he needs to fuck you until you know how much joy you bring to his life. your body rocks as your lover fucks into you, hovering over your body and looking so ethereal. his hair falls into his eyes that you just have to pull him down, crashing your lips against his. the moans he lets out against your face is lovely and you can feel his cock twitch as your legs wrap around his waist.
“‘toru— shiiitt . .” your back arches off of the bed, body caving into satoru like second nature. he lets out babbles against your lips, room filled with the sounds of his balls slamming into your ass, coupled with your weeping pussy, coating his length with all that you can give to him. “so deep—”
“that’s ’cause you’re suckin’ me in, baby—” he laughs breathlessly, cutting off your answer with another kiss, feeling the brush of pelvic bone against your clit. it’s all you need to cum hard, still sensitive after so long and your pussy clenches around gojo’s shaft even tighter; it gets gojo whining into the kiss before he reaches his high too, spilling into you with wide eyes and stuttering hips. you moan at the sensation, eyes pleading your husband for more, more, more. 
“forgot how much i loved doing that, f-fuck—” gojo hums as he removes your legs from his waist, pushing you into a deep mating press and you squeal when you feel his cock barely hit your g-spot in this new position, “yeah? ya feel that?”
you nod mindlessly, hands now holding onto his forearms before his hips start moving again and you’re left to whining like a slut. your thighs dig into your chest as gojo folds your body in half, rutting into you messily. there’s so much cum, mixed in filthily as your words only descend into incoherence.
“yes, yes, yes!” are all you can manage as gojo grunts from above you: his stubble, his broad shoulders, his matured face, they all look beautiful in the cold night. he’s so focused on the way your cunt sucks him in, hips stammering when your hand comes into view to rub your clit. “give it all t’me, daddy.”
there’s a small growl that leaves his lips at that, pace reaching an animalistic one as he angles his hips. “open y’mouth.” 
satoru is driven crazy when you obey silently, and he has to push deeper into you to reach your mouth, making you falter and pull your brows together — you recover fast enough to catch the spit hanging from his mouth, dribbling slowly into your mouth even when gojo’s hips never stop their assault.
“attagirl,” he praises, smiling softly at the way your pussy twitched at that. he knows you’re close by the look in your eyes, grasping aimlessly at his shoulders. 
“gonna let me cum in you again? hm?” gojo’s thrusts are sloppy now, fuelled by the squelch of your drooling cunt, “gonna let daddy put another baby in you?”
you mewl at that, “wan’ that— want all of it—” intoxicated on his cock, they hit the deepest parts of you; you know and love the way his tip hits your sweet spot, you know and love the way the shaved pubes of his pelvis brush up against your clit so well.
“take it then—” gojo grunts, holding your legs up and meets your eyes and the simple call of his name has him shivering. he cums deep, shooting his load so white and hot in you that you’re moaning loudly at the feeling, hand on your clit increasing in pace before your fifth for the night, legs trembling in his grip and your mouth falls open in a silent scream. 
gojo thinks you’re god. “that’s it— shit, take all of my cum, mama.” you can barely see blue, rather seeing spots of white that fill your vision and you get dizzy and overstimulated, groaning finally when he removes his cock from you. so much cum spills out, pussy pushing it out and satoru bites his lips at the sight.
but you both know you’re far from done when gojo lies on his back, ulterior motive fulfilled when he sees you climb on top of him and drag your pussy along the base of his dick. with you like this, stretch marks and plumpier breasts, you still look as beautiful as you did before the baby, letting you interlock your fingers with his. 
your mouth falls open in a soft “satoru” as you sink down onto his still hard, leaking cock and he never wants to look at anyone else ever again, lest he misses even one second of witnessing a goddess like you at work.
gojo cannot resist sitting up to meet you halfway in a soft kiss (“thank you, ’toru. you always take care of me so well.”) and it gives him all the confirmation he needs when your hips first move and the moans and the lewd sounds of your cunt sound more heavenly than all the choirs in the world.
“it’s what you deserve, baby. only the best.”
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