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bunny584 · 4 months

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OBSESSED: FUSHIGURO

A/N: OH. MY. GOD. Anon. I love you and hate you for this request. This was…hard. I told myself I wouldn’t publish it unless it was fucking perfect (you should see the scalpels I took to each goddamn sentence before this version).

SECOND: I will square up with Gege for writing the most enigmatic, LAYERED, complex, muddled character to exist. I wanted this to be Megumi. Through and through. His darkness, his light, his reservation, his crazy, all in one. And IDK. I think I did it? This one is purely to prove to myself that I can write for characters that are hard to write for (*cough* yuta im glaring at you *cough*)

THIRD: if you do read this (I get people feel things about aged up characters etc), I implore you to listen to this. Guys. I heard this at 0200 IN THE OR during a 6 hour case and the entire concept for this came to me. Meg is sophisticated and unruly, selfless and selfish, etc. So this has some NSFW but definitely probably more on the poetic, long ends of my works.

CW: Aged up characters (20+), college AU, fluffy/raunchy/dark romance-y because LOOK at him. He takes after Gojo AND Toji. Mature, 18+

“You like it when I’m rough.”

Megumi’s melody rings crystal clear.

Low.

Precise.

An F-14 Tomcat fighter jet, flying dark. Below enemy radar.

The piano keys float beneath his tone. His long, slender, deft fingers effortlessly execute the sheet music before him. It’s his GPS system, a personal flight map.

Little Beethoven, his advanced music theory professor calls him.

Truth is, Megumi is a prolific pianist and vocalist. He can tame any note, any melody, any harmony faster than any of his Shikigami.

Speaking of…

Megumi pulls off the piano and tortured love song in an instant. Just as the grade 3 curse creeps through the open door.

The part between his right long and ring fingers is automatic. His left hand grips the web space between his right thumb and index finger.

“Demon dog.” Megumi summons.

Low. Precise. Decisive.

“Eat it, boy.”

A small, approving smile tugs on the corners of his lips. Low level curses are the nothing more than chew toys to his divine dogs. With a tiny wave of his fingers, his technique buzzes inward.

Megumi’s eyes float to the ancient analog clock on the wall.

13:50

10 more minutes until you’ll meet him for your date.

No. Not date.

Study. 10 more minutes until you’re meeting him to study.

Your thought blooms within him like wildfire. It sets his normally cool, porcelain skin ablaze.

Megumi whips his body around to face the piano. To exorcise the feeling. The keyboard has always been his outlet. His life blood. Playing, singing, musing in and out of written songs is his catharsis.

Words don’t come easy. They never have. But lyrics do.

And when he gets to ride lyrics with his voice, his runs..?

The words he can never find on his own are suddenly out there. In the atmosphere. Coating empty rooms in a mist of his thoughts, his feelings.

No certain promise that the person the words are destined for will ever catch them. Or ever walk through the room and be kissed by the remnants of his musical trail. But Megumi has said (sung, played) them. And that’s enough.

“Sorry if I come across a type of way.”

“I’ve been trying to get out of my way…”

His fingers dive into the keys. Angrily. Earnestly.

“I know it doesn’t seem like I care, but you know I care—“

“Wow Meg, you sound incredible.”

You bring him to an abrupt stop. Your voice is maple syrup trailing down Megumi’s neck, leaving goosebumps in its candied wake.

Pitch fucking perfect.

A soft, ethereal C, gliding down Heaven’s staircase. You infuse sunlight into his name, whichever way you choose to say it.

And it’s hell. It’s cruel. To have as keen hearing as he does. To listen to you sing his name and have nothing else follow.

“Fushiguro.” Megumi shoots up from his seat, slinging his backpack over one shoulder.

“What?”

“Fushiguro.” He repeats, eyes briefly meeting yours before settling above your head. He’s at least a head and shoulders taller.

“Nobody calls me Meg.”

You throw your head back. Feather light crescendo in your laughter. It’s pretty. Tantalizing in the way chandeliers twinkle when they capture a beam of light.

His eyes dart down to catch the feminine column of your neck. Curving into your delicate collar bones. How are your lines so seamless?

So cinematic. Like he’s watching a figure skater land a triple axel. Or a prima ballerina en pointe. It’s not fathomable.

Gorgeous.

You are gorgeous.

“I call you Meg.” You retort with a smile that liquifies all of his joints.

You double your walking speed to keep pace with Megumi’s long strides. Both of you exit the sound engineering building. Heading straight for the campus library a couple blocks away.

“Who were you—oh,” Megumi’s glacial hand along the small of your back steals your voice away.

Your eyes and feet follow his gentle push, shifting you to the other side of him.

“Walking on the wrong side.” He mutters, monotone. Matter-of-fact. Obviously.

He’s a gentleman. Of course he is going to walk on the traffic facing edge of the sidewalk.

Of course he didn’t feel the electric currents wire through his fingers to clench — suffocate — his heart.

No, he didn’t hear that punched out, falsetto gasp when his hand cradled your perfectly tapered waist.

Or notice how well you fit into his hand. How light you are under his touch that had none of his real strength behind it.

You’re made of alluring lines. Intoxicating sounds.

What would it take to coax a pretty melody out of your pouty lips?

His fingers?

They’re long. And smart. Cold. Remarkably patient. You’d like them.

He could make you love them.

Crave them. Need, whimper, whine, and cry out for them.

“So who was it?” You tether him to reality.

“Who was what?” Megumi counters, leading you to a private study room.

“The way you were singing earlier.”

Hairs along the back of his neck stand at attention. Blood runs Siberian cold. Megumi’s gaze on you is subzero.

“It had to be for someone.” You lower down into a seat in slow motion.

The sweetheart neckline of your sundress is mean. Your supple mounds tilt and ripple with every micro movement. Megumi has forgotten why he’s glaring at you.

“You sound too…pretty. It can’t be wasted on thin air.” You continue.

“She must be—“

“Let’s just get started, okay?” He sharply redirects the conversation.

And promptly shifts gear to low autopilot. He’ll speak when spoken to, answer questions intermittently. But his mind’s true coordinates are a galaxy away.

Megumi retreats to his shadow garden.

Watching you.

Drinking you in.

Savoring each detail on his tastebuds like dessert.

The pencil eraser leaves an indent on your bottom lip where you’ve been pressing too hard.

Megumi wants to roll your bottom lip under his teeth. Until it flushes rose and swells beneath his relentless pull.

His eyes fall to your bracelet, far too big for your dainty wrist.

He could hold both of your wrists in one hand above your head or behind your back for hours. Without breaking a sweat.

His other hand would take its time.

To stroke you. Pet you. Learn your sheet music. Then play your body like a harp until you’re a chorus of beautiful, soprano whimpers and moans. Begging and pleading so prettily, enticing him to give in.

But he won’t.

Not until you’re soft enough. A babbling, warm, ruined brook beneath his fingers.

Then he’ll take you, gorgeous.

Searing pain from his sharp swallow and nails digging into his thighs rip him down to the present.

Vision a little fuzzy. Head a revolving door of vulgar scenarios. A dull, demanding ache between his legs draws his eyes to his lap.

Fucking hell.

His jeans are uncomfortable. He’s stiff and needy. Not nearly enough strength in his pants to hold back his drunken arousal.

Not to the mention, the—

swarm of shadows growing at his feet?

Is his…innate domain materializing around him right now?

Megumi aggressively slices through the air at his hip level. Below the table, but you don’t miss his sudden stirring.

“Meg? You okay over—“

“Going to the bathroom.” He gruffs through a clenched jaw. Megumi places his forearm over his crotch before hurrying out of the room.

He can barely recognize the man in the mirror. Flushed to his ears. Volcanoes threatening eruption in his eyes. Api Biru. Pure, triple distilled, blue lava coursing through his veins.

Snap out of it, Fushiguro.

The splash of cold water does nothing for his internal heat. But his milky complexion returns to its effervescent state.

But then he turns a little too quickly to leave. And his painfully hard length drags along his fabric. It’s blinding.

A feeble moan tumbles out of his tight lips.

“Fuck.”

Megumi slams his eyes shut. He needs to readjust. But if he touches himself now, he might not be able to stop.

A slow, steadying breath fills his lungs.

“Just adjust, don’t…” His voice trails off. Icey fingers around his hot, angry base is enough to rip the carpet from beneath his feet.

“Oh, fuck.” Megumi mumbles through one quick pump up his shaft.

He shakes his head as if to tell himself enough. He rests his erection along his thigh before zipping up. Still painful, but tolerable.

A tornado obliterates any remaining resolve in Megumi’s mind on his walk back to you.

You are a dream.

Or a nightmare? A curse?

It doesn’t matter. He couldn’t care less.

Megumi would follow you. Deeper than the crypts of his 10 shadows. Into hell if it meant he could have you the way he wants you.

The way he craves you.

Because fuck the cost.

He’d pay anything.

You’re working on an elaborate concept diagram on the white board. On the tip of your toes. Lip curled under your teeth. And you are just irresistible.

So, he won’t resist.

“Meg! Took you a bit, you okay?”

Megumi is silent. Unblinking. Sauntering toward you.

“Megumi?”

You lower to the soles of your shoes. Neck craning to look at his face. Your eyes widen at his persistent silence. Rosy heat dusting your cheeks.

Pretty little doe, rooted in place by his wolfish glare.

Megumi takes the marker out of your hand and tosses it behind him in one swift motion.

“Hmm,” a tiny acknowledgment of his name. Just because it sounds so sweet rolling off your tongue.

Megumi corners you against the wall. Both of his hands casually in his pockets.

He watches you shift. Flicker your eyes in every direction. Fiddle with your thumbs.

His quiet.

His presence.

It flusters you. Well before he’s gotten the chance to run his hands along the lazy curve of your waist and hips.

“So…so blue.” You stammer. Your warm eyes metronome between his.

“They are.”

Megumi steps impossibly closer. His eyes drop to your chest. Dainty, nervous heaves. Up and down. Up and down.

“You are so,” you swallow thickly, dropping your gaze. “hard to read.”

Megumi snakes his large, graceful fingers into your nape. The temperature difference between your warmth and his cold startles you deeper into his grasp. Your head evanesces into his pull.

A beautiful, shocked gasp escapes you. Just as Megumi’s lips trace the shell of your ear.

“I want you.”

His breaths collide with yours, now. Heat welling deep in his groin. His cock thunders against his thigh.

“Can you read that?” Megumi rasps. Ensuring his voice vibrates down your spine.

A new sound tumbles from your lips. Like you choked on your last swallow. How pretty. You gurgling and gagging like that.

“W-want me? Megumi wh—“

“I.” Megumi nudges his thigh between your legs. His steel pipe erection digs into your dewy, hot core. He angles his leg slightly upward, inching you on the tip of your toes.

His prima ballerina, en pointe.

“Want you.” His lips ghost against yours. Free hand cups the flesh beneath your thigh. Pads of his fingers twitching to dig in.

The two of you drink in this lock-in-key fit. Megumi revels in you. Like this. At his complete mercy.

The prodigal son, born with more power than he knows what to do with.

Ten shadows. Ten Shikigami. It’s been centuries since the last head of his bloodline had power buzzing beneath his fingertips like him.

And somehow he’s never felt more powerful than this.

With you, heaven’s most precious angel, cradled in his arms. Drowning in sinful ecstasy. He brands this freeze frame into the most permanent part of his memory.

Then, he free falls off your cliff edge.

Megumi takes your lips with unfettered greed. Hunger woven into the way his tongue traces every corner of your delectable, soft mouth. His fingers push your head deeper into him. Sucking and nibbling on your warm muscle.

You shower him with airy, choppy little pants. Moans and whines so light they crescendo to fairy dust. You can’t keep up with his bruising kiss. His other hand palms your thigh, kneading little bruises into your silky smooth skin.

Marking what’s his.

“Oh my god.”

You breathe into his mouth when he lets you up for air. Megumi’s eyes dart down to the meeting point of your sex and his muscular thigh.

Did you really think he wouldn’t notice how you’re rutting your pretty little cunt against his leg like that?

Crimson high on your cheeks. You look away when he tries to catch your fucked out gaze.

“Don’t hide from me, gorgeous.” His hand traces up to your hips. You preen into his firm grip.

“Megumi.”

“Don’t stop, pretty girl.” He forcefully moves your hips in more dramatic, languid, deep rolls against his thigh. He’s not paying any mind to the pool of his precum soaking through his pants.

You bury your head in his neck. Fingernails digging pretty crescent moons into his back. You take over the pace. Undulating against him. Shameless. In complete heat.

“You feel s-so…so good.” Your lips smear against his dampened neck. Megumi responds by circling your puffy, slick bud with his fingers.

And fuck. The slurred, broken whimper that rings in his ears.

The way you hump him even more sloppily.

He could finish from that alone.

Your hand flies to your mouth. Empty huffs spilling. Whines ascending in pitch. You are close.

“Such pretty sounds, baby.”

“Megumi…meg..I-“

“Let it out.” He grips the back of your neck. Feeling dangerously close to his own nirvana. Drunk off your precious melody.

“Sing for me.”

“F-fuck, GOD.”

You bite down on his neck. Waves of pleasure crashing into you like hurricane winds. He grips your waist steady. Feeling every involuntary twitch and jerk of your doll-like frame.

Blessing or curse?

He doesn’t know.

But he will follow you to the end of his lifetime and the next.

“God, Fushiguro. That was…” The lusty haze from your peak settles around you. The once shattered world, slowly pieces itself back together.

“No.” Megumi pulls you out of his neck. Dropping his lips to yours, so he can breathe the air directly from your lungs.

“Meg. You call me Meg.”

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satellite-evans · 9 days

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Caught in the Act

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x reader

Summary: Benedict and his wife, his muse, are interrupted by his mischievous sister Eloise during a private painting session.

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: fluff, Eloise being a tease

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, recommendations, vents or questions are always welcome. I love talking to you guys about anything <3

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The Bridgerton residence was always buzzing with activity. Whether it was the younger siblings running through the halls or the older siblings preparing for yet another social event, there was never a dull moment. Amidst this lively chaos, Benedict Bridgerton found his moments of peace and creativity in his art studio, tucked away in a quiet corner of the estate.

It was in this sanctuary that he often invited you, his beloved wife and muse, to pose for him. Today was no different. The soft afternoon light filtered through the large windows, casting a warm glow over the room. Benedict stood at his easel, his eyes intensely focused on the canvas before him. You reclined on a chaise lounge, draped in a delicate, nearly translucent gown that accentuated your natural grace and beauty.

"Benedict," you murmured, your voice laced with a hint of anxiety, "are you sure it's not too risky to do this here? Anyone could walk in."

He looked up from his work, his gaze tender as he regarded you. "We’ve done this before without any issues. Besides, the light in here is perfect, and you look absolutely stunning. Trust me, my love, everything will be fine."

You sighed, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Alright, but if we get caught, I'm blaming you."

He chuckled, a deep, soothing sound that always managed to calm your nerves. "Fair enough."

The room settled into a comfortable silence, punctuated only by the soft swishing of Benedict's brush and the occasional rustle of your gown. You admired the way his brow furrowed in concentration, his hand moving with practiced ease. It was in these quiet moments that you felt closest to him, sharing a connection that went beyond words.

ust as he was about to add the finishing touches, the door to the studio burst open. Eloise Bridgerton, ever the inquisitive and outspoken sibling, strode in without a second thought.

"Benedict, have you seen—" She stopped mid-sentence, her eyes widening as she took in the scene before her. "Oh."

Benedict froze, his brush hovering in mid-air. You quickly pulled the shawl you had draped over your shoulders tighter, your cheeks flushing with mortification as you realized just how exposed you were.

"Eloise!" Benedict exclaimed, clearly flustered. "Ever heard of knocking?"

Eloise's shock quickly gave way to a mischievous grin. "I didn't realize I needed to knock in my own home. But now I see why I should."

You buried your face in your hands, feeling utterly mortified. Benedict, on the other hand, looked equally embarrassed. He set his brush down and moved to stand protectively in front of you.

"Eloise, what do you want?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

"I was looking for a book," she said, still grinning. "But I suppose it can wait."

Benedict sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yes, it can. Now, if you don't mind—"

"Oh, don't worry," Eloise interrupted, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I'll leave you two lovebirds to your... art."

With that, she turned on her heel and left, closing the door behind her with a soft click. You and Benedict stared at each other for a moment before you buried your face in your hands again.

"I can't believe that just happened," you groaned, your voice muffled.

Benedict gently pulled your hands away from your face, his eyes filled with concern. "I'm so sorry, my love. I should have been more careful."

"You think?" you replied, half-joking, half-serious. "I am never posing in this house again. That was mortifying."

Benedict hugged you tightly, his arms offering comfort. "I promise, next time we'll find somewhere more private. But you have to admit, it does make for a memorable story."

You couldn't help but laugh despite yourself. "I suppose so."

Later that evening, the Bridgerton family gathered for an informal dinner. The aroma of roasted meats and fresh bread filled the air, mingling with the sound of cheerful conversation and laughter. You sat beside Benedict, your hand resting comfortably on his under the table.

Eloise, ever the mischief-maker, caught your eye and winked. You felt a blush creep up your neck as you recalled the earlier incident. Benedict squeezed your hand reassuringly, his thumb brushing soothing circles on your skin.

"So, Benedict," Eloise began, her voice dripping with innocent curiosity, "how's your latest painting coming along?"

Benedict shot her a warning glance, but she merely raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the moment. "It's coming along quite well, thank you," he replied evenly.

"Oh, I'm sure it's wonderful," Daphne chimed in, not noticing the undercurrent of the conversation. "Your work is always so impressive."

"Indeed," Anthony added, his tone more serious. "You've truly found your calling, brother."

Violet Bridgerton, ever the attentive matriarch, picked up on the tension. "Benedict, dear, you should show us your latest work soon."

Eloise leaned forward, her tone light and playful. "I suppose it's easier to be passionate when you have such a... captivating subject. Isn't that right, sister?"

You nearly choked on your wine, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. "I—um, well..."

Benedict shot Eloise a warning look. "That's enough, Eloise."

Eloise just smiled sweetly. "I'm only saying, you must find it very inspiring."

Violet's eyes twinkled with understanding. "Eloise, that is quite enough. Perhaps you should leave your brother and his wife in peace."

Colin, always quick to join in the fun, leaned back in his chair. "I'd love to see the painting. It must be quite the masterpiece if it has caused such a stir."

yacinth, always eager to be part of any conversation, piped up. "Can we see it, Benedict? Please?"

Gregory, not to be outdone by his younger sister, added, "Yes, show us! We promise to be quiet and not interrupt next time."

You buried your face in your hands again, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. "Oh my goodness," you murmured, mortified.

You truly never felt so embarrassed in your entire life.

The conversation shifted to other topics, and the rest of the family seemed unaware of the underlying tension. You couldn't help but steal glances at Benedict, admiring his composure. Despite the earlier embarrassment, you felt a deep sense of pride in being a part of his world.

After dinner, as the family dispersed, Benedict took your hand and led you outside to the garden. The night air was cool and fragrant with the scent of blooming flowers. He guided you to a secluded bench, where you both sat in comfortable silence for a moment.

"I'm sorry about Eloise earlier," he said quietly, his eyes searching yours.

You shook your head, smiling. "It's alright, Benedict. It was bound to happen sooner or later."

He chuckled softly. "True. Still, I wish we could have more moments just for us."

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. "We will. And until then, I'll cherish every second we have together, even the interrupted ones."

Benedict turned to press a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering. "You are my muse, my love. And I am forever grateful for you."

The moonlight cast a silvery glow over the garden, creating a perfect backdrop for the tender moment you shared. Wrapped in each other's arms, you felt an unspoken promise pass between you—a promise of love, support, and a future filled with countless more beautiful moments, whether they were stolen in secret or shared with the world.

#benedict bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #eloise bridgerton #bridgerton fic #benedict bridgerton x fem!reader #benedict bridgerton x you #fluff #bridgerton season 3

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daydreaming-nerd · 4 months

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The Bonds That Break Us (Rhysand x Female! Reader) Part 1

Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Final Part

Request: "Would you do a Rhysand x fem!reader series? Maybe fem!reader is Rhysand's mate and Tamlin's sister? So secret love?"

AN: I just got this request and I absolutely LOVE it. I have no idea how many parts it will be because it's really parking my imagination. Please feel free to leave a comment! Hearing your guy's feedback is what motivates me to write!

Summary: It was almost as if the cauldron liked to play games, as if it had sensed years of boredom and predictability and begged to be entertained. Its method of absolving its melancholy? Mate the High Lord of the Night Court to the younger sister of the High Lord of Spring.

Warnings (so far): SA

Word count: 2765

(all photos are from pinterest)

It was like being born, even though I was the ripe age of 435. Well, ripe in the years of fae. It felt like being born, in the sense that I can’t really remember what came before that passing shade of violet. The way his eyes bore into me, and in that moment I knew he felt the tug too.

Mates.

I reeled for days, the peonies of spring my only console, my brother had always been so absent minded and utterly consumed with being High Lord. How could the cauldron be so cruel? To mate me to the High Lord of the Night. I spent the next week thinking it had to be a mistake, that my bored mind was playing tricks on me. Yet when the council met the week following, his eyes found me immediately, and I think in that moment I saw him for the very first time.

I didn’t dare approach him, far too shy and afraid to approach the Lord of Night. Not just because of what he was, but because of what my brother would say. By basic necessity Tamilin was a good brother, he doted upon me, kept me safe, gave me free roam of the palace. But there was a darkness about him I couldn’t place. It started when he disappeared with our father one night only to come back with two sets of Illyrian wings. I knew whatever happened was wrong, but as a woman in the spring court, I knew better than to open my mouth. Needless to say, Tamlin became High Lord of Spring shortly after, and from the wings mounted on our family walls I knew we had but one enemy, the night court.

It wasn’t until the third council meeting (the third I was allowed to attend, after I begged my brother to let me go) that the High Lord of Night finally sought me out.

My brother was busying himself with the politics of Day and Summer, talking the heads off of Helion and Tarquin. I kept to the shadows naturally, avoiding any untoward advances from other High Lords. I tried to stay hidden in my pocket of introvertedness, but then I felt him, and my skin buzzed, like it needed to be touched, to be held.

“You felt it too right?” he purred into the shell of my ear causing the buzzing of my skin to become electric.

“I did,” I admit pathetically.

“And you feel it now too,” he whispers as I finally turn to face him. The violet of his eyes pierce my soul and I’m left speechless and unable to move from their gaze. He’s otherworldly, he’s everything, and he’s also completely forbidden.

“Do you?” I ask, hoping that whatever answer he gives can validate the fire in my bones.

“I do,” he muses like he loves the game. “Your brother killed my family. He is my sworn enemy and I should hate you.” he breathes. I can feel his resolve slipping along with mine, for every statement he makes I can make an opposing one, “but all I want to do is kiss you right now.” he finishes.

Fire runs through my veins as a sharp breath passes my lips. I feel my brother's presence and I evade myself from the High Lord of Night’s cage. My brother whisks me off to the Spring Court once more, but not before I glance back one last time to see that shade of violet I had already learned to look for in a crowd.

That was a week ago.

I stand in the foyer of the castle with my brother and Lucien as we prepare to join the council once again this week.

“You look ravishing as always,” Lucien muses, eyes wandering me like they’re hungry.

“It’s not often my brother lets me out of the house, I have to make a good impression somehow,” I say backhandedly. All I get in return is a sideways glance from Tamiln as we are taken to court. Today the meeting resides in Tarquins’s court. It changes once a week to allow all High Lord’s to have the upper hand. The sea salted mist hits my face and the warm rays of the sun tan my skin as we walk into the council.

When we arrive he’s already there. He stands out amongst the rest, not just because he’s dressed in black, but because he’s the most beautiful male I’ve ever seen. The definition of a forbidden fruit. As if to tempt me, Tamilin unknowingly sits directly across from the High Lord of Night making it so I can’t lift my head without meeting the violet of his eyes. If you had asked me to recall the events the council discussed, I couldn’t, the only word left on my tongue was Night. Talk of tithes and power checks drifted over my head. The only thing to rouse me from my trance was the scraping of wooden chairs across marble floors, signaling that the council meeting had adjourned and that the more foundational political talks of High Lords would begin.

I took it as my queue to step out onto one of the many terraces of the Summer Court. The room where the council was held was stifling. I thought that the breeze of the ocean might cool my skin, but no matter where I went that deafening heat followed.

“I was hoping I would see you again,” purred a voice from behind me.

I turned to find that piercing violet once more. “Of course why wouldn’t I be at the council meetings?” I ask, trying to act like I won’t be replaying this conversation in my mind when I return to bed tonight.

“You’ve only been to four council meetings now, and your brother has a habit of keeping you locked up in the Spring Court.” he trails, drawing closer to the railing of which I’m leaning upon.

“Well I intend to be at all of them from here on out,” I state.

“Any particular reason why?” he asks with a playful tone in his voice and I know what he’s insinuating.

“Because I wish to be a part of the governing of my court, even though I am just a woman,” I say, evading his innuendo.

“That’s a shame if you were part of my court you wouldn’t have such phrases like ‘just a woman’” he states almost as if he’s upset with the phrase.

“I highly doubt that, women aren’t equals in any court,” I scoff.

“What about Kallias and Viviane?” he asks.

“What about them?”

“Kallias sees Viviane as his equal, she is his mate and his High Lady,” he explains, stepping even closer to me, close enough that my skin starts to buzz again.

“Viviane is special, everyone knows that,” I justify.

“And you’re not?” he muses and my skin goes from buzzing to electrifying in three words. I feel his fingertips grazing my hand as if asking for permission.

“My Lord we can’t do this,” I breathe out.

“Call me Rhysand,” he says, stepping even closer.

I step to the side, avoiding his advances, “My Lord, I won’t do this, I can’t do this.” I affirm.

I see him bristle from my reluctance to call him by his name, “You’ll give into the idea of us. When you’re lying in that cold bed high up in the spring court thinking of all the ways I could warm it for you. When you’ve spent the week with nothing but this conversation on your mind,” he leans down to whisper in my ear. “This time next week you will beg for me to touch you, and I’ll happily oblige, mate.”

I’m so taken aback by his words that I can’t even form a quick witted response, I simply slid away and tried my best not to look back at him as I felt his gaze pierce my back. I nearly slam into Viviane and Kallias.

“Y/n are you alright?” Viviane asks.

“Yes, just feeling the heat of the summer court,” I lie, fanning my face.

“Then you should come home with us today, it’s been so long since we had a girls night. I wish for your company." She smiles while taking my hand.

“Shall we go home sister?” Tamilin appears, Lucien in tow.

“Actually I think I’ll spend the night in the winter court with Viviane, she’s right,” I look at her and smile. “We haven’t had a girls night in quite a long time.”

“Very well, I won’t get in the way of your sinful gossiping,” Tamilin smiles and leads Lucien away with him.

If the summer court is sea salt and sun, then the winter court is pine and fresh fallen snow. Though they are opposites in every way, they are stunning in their own right, like all courts are. I’ve been here many times before to sit and talk with Viviane, she’s one of the only other ladies of nobility my age and a fierce friend. It’s not uncommon for me to spend a couple days here in the winter court, with Viviane and Kallias.

I sit among a bed of furs near a warm fire adjacent to Viviane as Kallias pours both me and his mate a glass of red wine.

“Thank you dear,” she smiles, kissing him on the cheek before he leaves us to gossip.

“You and Kallias really are a perfect match,” I beam and Vivianane knows me well enough to know that there's a sadness there.

“You’ll find it too someday, your mate. I know you will,” she assures me. “Now tell me, what of Lucien?”

I roll my eyes taking a sip of my wine, “He’s still insufferable. The other day he backed me into a wall and if one of my ladies maids hadn’t walked in I swore he would’ve had his way with me.”

She lets out an airy laugh, “I still can’t believe Tamiln allows him to play with you like that. He’s so fiercely protective of you with everyone else.” she says, taking a sip of her own wine.

“Lucien is his best friend, he wouldn’t deny him anything, even his little sister.” I point out.

“I suppose you’re right,” she smirks. The night is filled with goblets of wine and laughter as we continue to talk about the high lords of Prythian. We even go as far as to talk about her and Kallais’ sex lives, to which Kallias promptly came in laughing taking his wife to bed.

I trudge down the hall to the bedroom the High Lord and Lady had set aside just for me a few years ago. I fall into the plush mattress, the world slightly spinning around me. The second I am left alone with my thoughts I recall the feeling of Rhysand’s breath on my neck and I shiver.

The room spins and I feel my skin grow hot with need, my heart beats faster and my head is drunk with that shade of violet. My hand subconsciously drifts down my body.

You’re drunk? A voice cuts through my head.

I sit up right and look around the room. The only thing I find is the flickering of the fireplace against the walls.

The same voice chuckles and speaks again, No I am not in the room with you my mate.

“How are you doing this?” I ask in my head.

The daemati gift, and of course, I am your mate. The High Lord croons.

“Get out of my head” I grumble.

But you called for me, I can feel your… excitement.

“Then you're mistaken,” I hiss.

We both know that’s not true darling.

“Goodnight,” I groan, rolling over to go to bed.

Goodnight, darling

The following days are long. Despite my better wishes there is a part of me that yearns to see the High Lord of Night again. I waltz through the spring court, picking flowers for the dinner table and evading Lucien’s advances. At night I find myself obsessively reading the romance novels I keep beside my bed. On one night in particular a certain scene in my book makes my toes curl and my thighs clench. My fingers skim the pages and the roughness of them is almost heightened.

My my my, what a dirty book. That voice croons into my mind.

“Get out of my head,” I gripe.

I can’t help myself when I feel your body react as it does. He purrs.

“How on earth can you ‘feel’ my body?” I roll my eyes.

Like this.

A tug reverberates through my body. Like there’s a string in the pit of my stomach that he just pulled. The sensation causes me to lose a breath as further arousal goes to my legs. He lets out a dark chuckle.

“Don’t ever do that again,” I order him

But you loved it so much, He purrs and I can practically feel him smirking in my head.

“You’re an insufferable bastard High Lord,” I growl at his persistence.

Call me Rhysand.

“I see no reason to drop informalities, my lord.” I quip back.

My name will fall from your lips one day, and when it does I’ll be sure to swallow it with my own. Until then, I’ll leave you with this. Goodnight darling.

I feel another tug at the bond reverberating through me and I nearly let out a moan at the feeling. I snuggle into my sheets that suddenly feel as if they are constricting around my body. I toss and turn and try to push all thoughts from my mind, but I can’t stop the idea of the High Lord's lips on mine. His night black hair in my hands, the way his moans might fall from those lips.

The next morning I take my breakfast in one of the lounge areas, still reeling from last night. My thoughts still wander to the image of his face, and how his eyes light me on fire. The door opens and a head of auburn hair pokes in.

“Forgive me, I didn’t know you were in here,” Lucien says like he has regret, yet he sits down across from me.

“No worries, I'm almost finished eating,” I reply, placing my tea down and getting ready to get up..

“And I secretly hoped to spend some time with you,” he sighs, sinking into the couch.

“Perhaps later, I wanted to read in the garden,” I stand and make my way towards the door.

“Perhaps now,” he growls. I feel a cold hand grasp my arm hauling me into the wall.

“Lucien,” I hiss as my back is pressed into the wall, his frame looming over mine.

“You are such a tease,” he smirks before kissing my neck hungrilly. His hands roam my body pulling me impossibly close.

“I’ve never once given you any inclination that I wanted you,” I gripe at him.

“That’s what makes you so desirable my dear,” he practically moans into my neck.

I gather my strength and push him off of me, “I’ll remind you that I am Tamlin’s little sister and while he favors you his favor only goes so far. One word from me and he’ll send you back to the Autumn Court.” I growl at him, and it seems to be enough as he backs away and leaves me to reel from what just happened in silence.

I sit down on the couch and take deep breaths to ground myself.

What’s going on? Are you alright? That voice like glorious night cuts through my mind and I almost feel thankful for how it brings me back to reality.

“Yes I’m fine,” I say back.

What happened? I felt your fear through the bond.

“It’s nothing, just Lucien.” I dismiss him.

Did he touch you?

I almost swore I heard anger laced in his voice. “Well I am his favorite plaything,” I roll my eyes.

And Tamlin allows him to touch you like this?

“As long as my virtue isn’t completely compromised so that I am still of value when he inevitably marries me off, yes. He doesn’t care.” I divulge, and quite stupidly I realize.

As if I needed another reason to hate him.

“He is still my brother, my Lord,” I remind him, though I secretly feel the same.

Don’t you mean, Rhysand?

“No I don’t, my Lord,” I say, drawing out the last words.

I’ll see you tomorrow my darling, I relish the idea of seeing you in the golden light of the day court.

#rhysand #rhysand x reader #rhysand x reader smut #rhysand angst #rhysand fluff #acotar #rhys acotar

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hwaitham · 9 months

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𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𓈒 ˖ ࣪ 𝜗𝜚 al haitham x sub!f!reader. nsfw — mdni. established relationship ﾉ period sex ﾉ daddy kink ﾉ sweetheart + princess + baby as petnames ﾉ lotsa praise n' haithie is vry doting :3 dis is a rewrite ﾉ repost from my old blog ! any interactions are super loved n' appreciated (∩ˊᵕˋ∩ ྀི)

you think the way al haitham touches you so tenderly and so cautiously—like your skin is as fragile as the petals of the padisarahs he picks for you, like you’re some prey animal with your innocent fawn eyes and twitchy bunny nose—is enough to make you weep.

and, oh, it is; and, yes, you realize you’re prone to tearful outbursts, but when he caresses you like this, with his thumb sowing slick hearts over your clit and his lips hot on the swell of your breast and his leaky cockhead webbed with red as it works your little cunt apart, when he slathers all his love for you—unadulterated, pure—over your spine, how can you expect yourself to not cry?

“crying already, sweetheart?” your lover's lips curve up into a soft smile when you choke on a sob as you nuzzle your cheek over his, a warm pool of crystalline pressing into his skin and drivelling down his jaw. he pulls away to coo at you sweetly, thumbing at the dew of your lashes as he watches on in awe of your emotional frailty. "delicate little thing, aren't you?"

he shuffles around on his forearms into a more comfortable position on top of you, elbows digging into the mattress as he cradles your face within his palms.

jaded cerulean gazes between your eyes, and then your lips, and then he’s kissing you slowly—exploring the concavities of your mouth with his tongue, stealing tiny mewls and the other pretty noises you make in an attempt to distract you from the painful contractions in your tummy.

and when he begins to stretch you open with his cockhead, easing his way in and moulding your puffy walls to his girth, the ache of your cramps dissipate into barely-there pinpricks, the pleasure candied by slow swirls of his hips into your g-spot and his thumb digging into your puffy nub. al haitham’s ministrations coax a sore sob from your throat, your ankles unlocking around his waist in favour of lightly tapping your toes against the bottom of his back because it feels like heaven.

“feels like heaven, hm?” he muses and cocks a brow, drinking up the dreamy glaze over your pupils and the sinful pout of your lips and the adorable twitch of your nose.

“uh huh, feels s’good, daddy,” your voice comes out a pitchy sigh as you cling to him, dainty fingers dipping into his clavicles and the arch of your back deepening when he continues to grind into your sensitive spots with care, lewd squelches of blood and slick making your entire body swell with heat. and you can’t help but be the slightest bit embarrassed by it all, by the mess you make over the towels he’s laid under you and the sticky red that clings to his pubes and the needy aches of your heart because you just yearn for him terribly, curving your body up into his and grappling lazily at the tufts of silver that curl just around the nape of his neck. “you take such g-good care of me…”

the cute sniffles and stuffiness of your voice as you hiccup over your words pull a guttural groan of a curse from him, his head tossed back and cock throbbing painfully as more webs of glistening blood drip and ooze and coat his length, materializing as a creamy ring around the base when it mixes with his pre.

as if to punctuate your words with actions, he leans down to kiss over the hot plane of your chest, running his tongue along a pert nipple, shushing your whimpers sweetly while he pushes his cock deep, deep, deep—all the way until his leaky tip is greeted by the soft sponge of your cervix.

“fuck—well, that’s my job, isn’t it? sweet girl like you deserves all the care in the world.”

honeyed words slip out of your right ear just as they enter your left, and you can all but helplessly tug him closer to your chest with limp limbs—clingy and desperate to feel every inch of his body against yours. he swallows your mewls with soft kisses as he fucks your womb and grinds into your clit, the mingled pleasure and pain coaxing drip after drip of thick red from each clamp of your pussy that seems to get increasingly tighter.

"a-awh, s'okay, 'm not going anywhere, baby." his voice is a gentle croon, sweet and encouraging and the edges to his words are the slightest bit teasing. it makes you whimper—realizing how lucky you are to be able to experience al haitham like this; soft and doting and deeply in love.

with his low groans against the hot shell of your ear, his palms wet over the small of your waist and his cock plunging into you as far as it can go, the bubble that grows in the pit of your tummy finally pops, and you cum—tiny, slurred mewls of daddydaddydaddy buried into his chest and your toes curled and, oh, al haitham thinks it’s so cute how your arms lock around his neck to hold him close, overstimulated as your hips jerk and body jostles helplessly with each rock of his hips, yet still hungry for more, more of him.

“daddy, p-please—” you choke on a whimper, horribly in love with your daddy and blissed out from your orgasm and all that—drunk on his cock taking up every inch of space in your twitchy cunt and dripping hot pre into your womb.

he continues to thrust into you languidly and rub stars and hearts, spell out his name over your clit, his fingers stained as red as the base of his cock. there is no urgency to his movements, no rush to wash over your slow tides of pleasure—he’ll drag it out for as long as he needs to, as he wants to; what’s losing a couple of hours of his workday in favour of tending to the owner of his glowing heart?

“s’okay, princess; daddy’s gonna take all the pain away.”

#𝓭𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓯𝓸𝓵𝓭𝓮𝓻 ⑅˚˖ ݁ ˓ ෆ #al haitham smut #al haitham x reader #alhaitham smut #alhaitham x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham thirst #genshin thirsts #al-haitham smut #al-haitham x reader #tw period sex #tw daddy kink #haitham ❤︎

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mistydeyes · 9 months

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hiiiii I LOVE YOUR WORK!!!!!!!! Can you please do 141 with a model reader who does Chanel,Versace etc and she gets an invite to do Victoria’s Secret runway and they see her down the runway how would they react

she’s not any model shes and icon,sex symbol,brains,she is the moment

big inspo for me ( I want to become a model)

AHHH I LOVE THIS! anon i feel you tho, every time i look on pinterest i just want to be a model! thank you for requesting <3

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summary: The 141 has always had an odd connection of friends, allies, and connections. However, they can't deny that they don't enjoy your luxurious life as a model and the perks that come along with attending one of your shows.

pairing: Taskforce 141 x fem!reader

warnings: swearing

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

A series of events in Milan allowed the 141 to cross paths with you. Staying in a lavish French penthouse was far from what they had expected on a mission dictated by Laswell but her connections with your retired INTERPOL mother had brought them the extravagance of your home and lifestyle. Laswell had to threaten to have their court marshaled if they delayed their arrival home any longer. You thought of that brief moment in summer fondly as you left Gaz a voicemail. "I have a runway in New York coming up, let me know if you'll be on leave," you spoke on the phone, examining your manicured nails, "accommodations and champagne are on me."

"This is nice," Price said, dropping his duffle onto the marbled tile of their hotel room. "Are you kidding, Cap?" Gaz said as he opened every door into the massive suite, "This is fucking amazing." When they got off the plane at JFK, they had not expected a private driver who brought them to the ornate hotel. The room itself had four separate bedrooms with two bathrooms filled with the best amenities. Soap had taken the opportunity to run over and open a bottle of champagne while Ghost pilfered the small shampoo and conditioner bottles. While the men explored the vast rooms and fought over the beds, there was a knock at the door. Price opened it to reveal a well-dressed bell-hop boy, holding a tray with an envelope. "Four tickets sent by one of the models," he spoke and Price handled the black envelope with embossed pink lettering. "Hell of invitation," he muttered before he looked at the runway time and shared the details with his team. "Wonder what she'll be wearing," Soap mused as he turned to take over one of the bathrooms.

Behind the stage, there was organized chaos with models running around in their silk robes in between the stations. The chatter roared as they chatted with the various hair stylists and makeup artists. "First VS show?" your makeup artist asked as she applied glitter delicately to your primed lids. "Yes, but not my first modeling gig," you smiled as you felt the pressure on your closed eyes, "Versace was beyond a mess compared to this." The artist laughed as she continued to prep your look. You could see mixes of pink and gold applied to your lips and the apples of your cheeks. "We think an olive green liner would look stunning on you," she said before holding a green eyeliner pencil in hand. You nodded in response as you shifted a bit in your robe. You gently closed your eyes again as you envisioned your latest outfit for the night.

Weeks prior you had visited the city to see your outfit for the night. A sage green bra and panty set decorated with pink and glittery flowers to resemble a meadow. Your wings were made of a delicate rose pink chiffon that was reminiscent of a fairy. "Do you like?" the designer asked as you walked around the stand and examined every stitch and detail. You smiled as you nodded happily, feeling the soft fabric under your fingertips. "Any particular inspiration?" you questioned as you made sure to feel the weight of the wings. "The newest line of Victoria's Secret," she spoke dreamily, "the delicacy of nature."

With your makeup and hair done, you walked over to change and receive the final touches from the design team. The group walked rapidly around your figure, assuring every detail would shine when the lights hit your walk. "Have anyone special here tonight?" one of the designers asked as he cut a few loose stitches. "Just a few friends from Europe," you spoke, hoping you didn't sound too entitled. You wanted to talk more but your odd friendship with a small special forces group would definitely reach some tabloids. "You look perfect darling," another designer spoke and you nodded before beginning to walk in your heels. "You can mingle with the others. Your collection is after the classics set," she reminded. You took a deep breath and made some facetious conversation with the other women. They were in awe at your previous shows but you just simply talked as if each was a mediocre experience. "Alright ladies, walk begins in five," a voice called over the comms and you lined up accordingly. As you watched the excited group in front of you, you wondered what you would treat the 141 to for dinner. You were sure if someone knew this is what you thought of before a show, they would laugh.

"Move up, Y/N," the stage manager directed, pulling you out of your food-related musings, "almost time for you to go on." You moved forward, getting into the comfort of your model walk you had done so many times before. You took a deep breath as you heard the live music stream through the curtains and the ethereal light peek through. You looked down at your attire one last time before the model ahead of you returned and it was your turn to awe the show. "Go, go, go," you could hear the stage manager command as the bright lights and menagerie of faces met your gaze.

"I think this is her!" Gaz commented, leaning forward in his chair. "You've been saying that for the past four models," Ghost corrected before he turned to see who was coming out next. As the men directed their gaze to the stage, you confidently strutted onto the platform. They were glued to your figure, perfectly accentuated by the flirtatious lingerie set. The details were delicate and encapsulated your aura. "Fuck." Soap whispered under his breath as the glitter and flower additions to your ensemble shimmered underneath the light. Your wings bounced and looked like they flittered in the air as you made your way in front of the watching crowd. "She's a natural at this," Price commented as he watched the way you walked in a straight line with an air of elegance in each step. He also couldn't deny the way you shined on stage and how the cameras clicked in rapid succession. As you reached the end of the runway, you took an opportunity to look over at the seats you had picked for the 141. You gave a small wink before blowing a kiss in their direction.

Upon your exiting, there was a clamor amongst the group as to who the kiss was directed to. Primarily, Soap and Gaz were at odds thinking you made eye contact with them as you puckered your glossed lips. Price attempted to put a stop to them before Ghost spoke up. "I'm sure that was for me," he spoke quietly, leaving everyone to shelf the conversation and bring it up later over dinner.

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chilschuck · 2 months

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Chilchuck but we are his pretty wife, and we didn't abandon him this time.

Not only that, but we are also very caring and nice, and it's practically a surprise how we are with someone like Chilchuck.

I can picture him standing with a serious face and all gloomy, and then we are next to him beaming rays of sunshine (bonus if we are also blonde and a hafling)

They are literally the "sunshine x grumpy" trope

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ ohhhhhhh my god. so……..i was so happy with this cute request that i kind of ran with it LOL. this is such a good concept and i can picture this so well in my brain. i wrote a domestic lil drabble that i hope is okay, as my thoughts just went insane over this. WAHHHH i hope you enjoy and that this is okay!! thank you so much for your idea, anon!! <3

— SUNSHINE: chilchuck x wife!reader.

꒰ rating: ꒱ sfw and soooo fluffy. reader is also a half-foot!

꒰ wc: ꒱ 675

✦ please i need more domestic bliss with this man. he deserves to feel so loved and happy. i tried to keep this light and sweet and playful bc i think he’d be grumpy but also. give this man the love he needs and he’ll thrive please chilchuck just one chance please pleas—

“Chil?” Your voice was so soft and sweet, it’s honey-like tone melting him to his core. You had decided to surprise him with breakfast this morning, something you loved to do when you had him here with you.

If the smell didn’t rouse him, your presence certainly did. It was an understatement to say that you were his weak spot, a point within him that he tried not to dwell on too much. Especially when the sun hit you in that halo of light at just the right angle, seeping through the windows and making his eyes flutter. Waking up to you was an experience he felt he couldn’t get enough of, drunk off of your velvet words as you brushed the bangs out of his face.

“Mm?” Was his only response, leaning subconsciously into your touch with a gruff sigh. You only laughed, that twinkle in your voice causing his heart to stutter within his chest. Why must he be married to the human form of sunshine? Surely his constant grumpiness would deter you, but much to his amusement, it only made you grin.

“Do you want breakfast, love?” Gods, when you called him that, he could feel his ears burn hot. Finally fully opening his eyes, his gaze found yours, softening instantly. How he managed to find someone like you, he would never understand. Regardless, he sat up, pawing at his eyes to dust the sleep from them. “I’d rather have you.” You heard him grumble, cheeks rosy. Another one of those addicting laughs left you. He didn’t think it was amusing. “Fine, I’ll get up…”

You practically bounced in place, rocking on your feet in excitement. It wasn’t hard to see that you adored your husband, his sleep shirt wrinkled and hair messy from sleep making you bite your lip in glee. Chilchuck gave you a skeptical look, scratching the back of his head before stretching. The action reminded you that he did have a little height on you, your own size as a half-foot causing you to feel small in any context. His shirt rode up to expose the tummy there, causing you to leave your gaze locked at that spot for a moment.

“Are you really this excited for me to get out of bed?” He mused, grumpiness slowly ebbing away at the warmth completely radiating off of you. You felt yourself nod, wrapping your arms around his waist and peering up at him with that expression that always made him weak in the knees. “I’m always excited for my husband to wake up and join the living again.”

“Is that so?” Chilchuck grinned, his voice rumbling in his chest and tingling against your skin. “You want a grump like me awake at this hour?” You couldn’t help but feed into him, continuing to nod your head cheerfully. “Really? Then it would be a shame if…”

Before he finished his sentence, you felt yourself pulled down to the bed as he fell backwards, a yelp leaving you in shock. He held you in his embrace, nuzzling into your neck and yawning. “...I took you down with me. Oh well.” Obnoxiously fake snores followed his teasing reply, causing you to laugh in bewilderment.

“Chilchuck, are you serious? I had finally gotten you up! Everything that I made is gonna get cold!” Although you spoke with mock frustration, the longer you found yourself in his embrace, the more you couldn’t bring yourself to move. Huffing, you relented. “Not my fault that your breakfast is going to be freezing by the time you finally get moving.” Your own grumbling, voice muffled against his shirt, caused him to chuckle. Your head buzzed.

His playfulness this morning made you feel a little giddy, studying his face as the light filtered in. A few gray hairs were illuminated in the sea of auburn, something you found pleasure in. You had to remind yourself that you both weren’t as young as you used to be, but if you were able to continue spending this life with him, well… Maybe it wasn’t so bad.

#⟡ lilia writes! 🌿#୨ chilchuck my beloved ୧ #i hope this is okay!!!#dividers by cafekitsune #i actually kinda like this one….#maybe bc it’s so self-indulgent like everything i seem to write #welp. LOL #chilchuck tims x reader #chilchuck x reader #delicious in dungeon x reader #dunmeshi x reader #dungeon meshi x reader #x reader

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just-jordie-things · 2 months

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megumi and the reader making out??? idk the context tho. but pls yeah? 🥹🥹

ok this ask is old but i saved it bc it was golden and open ended enough i am happyyyy to provide :3 :3

___

megumi is the kind of boyfriend that gets carried away... which might not be all that out of the norm, if he wasn't such an oblivious hypocrite about it.

he's all "sweetheart, we have to go, they're waiting" while actively hooking his fingers through your belt loops to pull you in closer. your reaction is seized by his lips on yours again.

he'd barely even pulled away to scold you, and yet here he was tugging you closer and closer until you were left no choice but to crawl into his lap, legs prettily sprawled over both of his in that way you both knew he liked.

and then he has the audacity to warn you again while his teeth graze over your lower lip, capturing it without quite biting down-

"you're going to make us late"

- this is ironic because he's all bark and no bite.

you should be used to this by now, as megumi always found a way to wrap you both up in the heat of the moment when you're supposed to be somewhere. this time it's a movie with your friends, who were probably awkwardly stalling in the common room. five minutes ago you were all excited for this movie. but at the present moment it's barely clinging on to the back of your mind.

except when megumi's busy reminding you how now is not the time for a makeout session. only to silence himself by making out with you. you could almost laugh- if you weren't rendered breathless by the hot and heavy kisses he's laying against your lips.

his fingers are stating to push past the hem of your shirt, and you really tried to get yourself to push his hands away so that you could put a stop to this while there was still time... but as soon as your hands land on his he's grabbing you by the wrists and pulling you in closer until you're chest to chest. you huff with a mix of annoyance and desperation, but megumi seems indifferent to the sigh you've muffled against his mouth.

truth was, he didn't have a care in the world how long his friends waited on you both. if he was busy with you- especially when you're being so good and pretty on his lap for him- there was nothing that was going to take him away from this moment until he was damned ready to do so.

he liked the way you pretended to struggle and convince him to get up and go, the quiet whispered whines of "gumiiii" into his lips while you, too, were too wrapped up in him to really care enough to crawl out of his lap. so who was the real hypocrite here?

so he chuckles when he feels you melt a little deeper into him, your arms heavy against his chest as your fingers reach into the hair at the nape of his neck, how heavily you're breathing through your nose, your chest rising and falling against his as you push just a little harder to be closer. if he didn't know any better he'd think you were trying to push him all the way down till his back hit the bed and you'd be victorious in caging him beneath you. (he thinks he'd quite like it if you had your way with him right here and now, even if that movie is starting in less than thirty minutes) but unfortunately, you're too soft pliable under his hands to make a move like that, so megumi gathers that you'll just give in to his every will and kiss until he decides for the both of you that it's time to go.

his hands squeeze the soft flesh at your hips, his lips barely detching from yours as he opens his eyes to get a good look at you. in this moment, he thinks you're the prettiest thing in the world. your brows furrowed in frustration with him, but your lips swollen and pouty as soon as they aren't paired up with his. no movie was more enticing than the image right before his eyes. even the mental picture won't do it justice.

"what 'm i gonna do with you, hm?" he muses, lips grazing yours before you're the one seizing forward to continue what he started.

and you both know exactly what he has in mind.

(yuji and nobara get a text like three minutes later with a horrible excuse standing them up for the movie. neither one of them are surprised but they talk their shit anyways !!)

#megumi brainrot #megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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plutoswritingplanet · 3 months

Text

It's A Special Death You Saved (Feyd Rautha x Female!Reader) pt.4 (final)

a/n: we did it Joe! this chapter officially marks the first ever series i've completed lmao. thank you for all the support on this fic, every like, every comment, every out-of-pocket anon ask.

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content (like...fr this time), Blood and Violence, Manipulation.

Summary: After the wedding, Husband and Wife work out the intricate web of their relationship.

Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3

Gurney looks at you as if you're already dead.

You hide from his gaze, ducking behind pillars, whenever you can hear his footsteps. It's truly depressing, the way your mentor shakes his head, as if, instead of looking at you, he's looking at a coffin. You suppose he might be right, he's the one with the most experience in the Harkonnen area. He's fought them, dined with them, seen their customs through and through. And now, his dutiful little student is about to be thrown into the very same world, he has relayed to you as a nightmarish fairytale. Still, a little misplaced optimism wouldn't kill him. Or just, a sliver of hope, an inclination that you might survive this.

The day of your wedding rolls upon you like an oceanic storm, all chaos and rumbling.

Here you sit, your bones locked with nerves, as the servants pack away your things. A futile thing, you muse to yourself. It's highly doubtful the Harkonnens will let you keep any personal items back from Caladan. They'll mold you into their image, until all your hair naturally falls out. The thought would make you laugh, but here's a servant, placing your jewelry into a case, which lands in a bag, which will be transported to the Harkonnen ship by the end of the day.

Your room, the place you've spent all your life in, slowly becomes more and more barren.

The closet stands empty, so do the drawers. All your trinkets are swiftly transported away until you're left alone in your wedding dress, the only familiar thing between the hollow ribs of your life's sanctuary. Wishing you could fold the entirety of the castle, with the stables, and the horses, and the cliffs, and throw it into the final suitcase, so you can open it up in times of turmoil, and breathe in the familiar scents. You need to leave, right now. Sitting like this, wrenches a dangerous numbness out of your chest. And you can't be allowed to dissapear into yourself. You're an Atreides, you shall wear your pain with dignity, as per your Mother's wishes.

Your wedding dress swishes around you, as you stand up from your bed. It's much more classy, and less of a chiffon catastrophe, than your engagement dress, a welcome change. The veil is embroidered with light crystals and metal plating. It falls heavily over your face, and jingles when you move. By all intents and purposes, it is a dream dress. A dress you'd like to wear for a wedding of your own, a wedding with some dashing gentleman. A gentleman, which in your most private of dreams, has the face of Duncan Idaho, with silver rings braided into his hair.

Instead, you're left with this monster, so alien and cold. A beast at the center of the maze.

The bull looks at you from the wall. Its horns, smeared with your Grandfather's blood, curl grotesquely into the ceiling. The head is mounted above the doors to the library, a grim reminder of his spectacular death. As a child, you'd spend hours, standing right here, at the entrance, staring at the animal's head. You've always wondered, whether it were the lights playing tricks on your mind, or you saw a shadow of pride in the bull's eyes.

Did it know who was its victim? The leader of one of the most important Houses in all known universe laid dead at its feet. Did it know what sort of spectacle it produced? What destruction of hubris? You suppose it couldn't, it was an animal, after all. A headless creature, hung on a wall. Still, you stare at it, just like you used to, trying to decipher your own fate from its cold, dead eyes.

After all, there will be a spectacle, a life-long fight stands ahead of you. Giedi Prime shall be your arena, dead and cold, covered in black. And every single Harkonnen will be your bull, their mere presence a deathly danger to your being. It took one bull to end your Grandfather, you dread to think how many it'll take to end you. There will be blood, you're sure of it. And if things were allowed to go your way, it would flow in rivers upon rivers, through the industrial halls of Giedi Prime. You'd have the entire planet drowned in their blood. Your cursed betrothed, the Baron, the fucking Emperor if you had to.

The bull laughs at your quiet hate, beady eyes bearing down upon you in an imaginary display of indifference. You huff, cheeks reddened, insides twisted and burning.

That's how your Father finds you. Enchanted by a once living instrument of death.

He hasn't spoken to you, since your betrothed has arrived, not really. Not like you used to talk. A way to shield himself, you supposed, from the Emperor's order, which will soon enough take his only Daughter away from him. This was your superpower. You could fish out signs of love in every action.

- Your Mother hates that thing - he comments, as he stands next to you, eyes looking up at the bull.

- I don't blame her, the sight is quite disturbing. - you reply evenly.

You've missed him, more than you can possibly explain with words. But teary displays of affections were below you, especially since you're trying to distance yourself, rise above your body, float right out of your head. Perhaps it'll hurt less that way. Duke Leto Atreides turns to you, and for the first time in a month, you recognize your Father behind this statue of authority. He looks troubled, for lack of a better word. There's much more gray on his brow and the lines of his face are darker, harsher.

- I came to give you something - he announces, producing a small object out of the pocket of his trousers.

It's harder than you thought, tearing your gaze away from the bull, but you manage, your eyes landing on a figurine in your Father's hands. Your heart stops, as you recognize the blackened stone, polished to perfection. On a flat disc stands a figure of a Matador, proud and posed. Next to him, a bull, ready to strike. It's cold to the touch, when you take it from your Father, ridges of the small sculpture digging into your palm.

Jumping in front of danger, for better or worse. Your head starts to hurt.

- Father - the sound of your shaking voice carries through the corridor - How will I ever survive this?

By the way Duke Leto Atreides sucks in a sharp breath, you can deduce the answer. And what a sad answer it is.

Your Father steps closer, gathering your trembling hands in his, the warmth of his embrace engulfing you like the first sun rays of spring. He squeezes your fingers, tightening your own hold on the small figurine, and his eyes are so incredibly sad, you're convinced they could make any heart in the universe weep.

- With courage - he says - and grandiose.

Like a true Matador would.

***

Your bull stands completely still.

His pale skin creates a beautiful contrast against the ever present darkness of the Harkonnen ship. It's so much different from your native fleet, all sleek and black, and efficient. Terrifying, but at the same time, strangely beautiful.

The both of you watch, as the hatch is being pulled up, slowly but surely obscuring all sight of your home planet. Of your family, standing by the docking station like a funeral parade. It's only when you can no longer see them, your life sealed with a click of finality, does your betrothed, now husband, move.

His hand grasps your upper shoulder, and you jump at the sudden contact. Your confused gaze is completely ignored, as the man drags you through the ship, taking large, hasty steps.

Hairless faces swish past you, all so similar to each other, you're worried you'll never figure out who is who. The corridors of the ship wind and turn like a merciless labyrinth, a realization daunting on you, that you will never be able to find your way in this place.

Suddenly, you're faced with a black door, which opens as soon as your husband walks up to it. His grip tightens and he basically throws you forward, watching you stumble through the entrance on weak legs.

It takes you a second to gather yourself, as you instinctually settle into a defensive stance. The room you're in looks quite different from the rest of the ship. It's much more luxurious, one would risk saying cozy. With a gigantic, round bed filled with pillows, a dark desk, and a deliciously comfortable looking armchair. It all dims in your eyes, however, as you look up at your newlywed.

He stands right at the entrance, blocking the only means of escape with his tall frame.

Both of you are still in your wedding clothes. Your dress hugs your body in a way that is anything but comforting. His outfit is as black and sharp, as all his attire. It exposes his lean physique, clings to his warrior's physique. Terrifying, your brain summarizes, muscles freezing suddenly. Feyd Rautha looks at you with emotions you can't decipher in the low light of his room. Your room. Your marital abode.

You can't breathe, lungs tighten painfull with the sheer thickness of the air between the two of you. Still, there's a certain power, residing in your bones, an inclination of a fight you're ready to put up, should he try anything. And by the way his brow bone settles over his darkened eyes, your husband seems to understand. What a terrifying thought. The sheer idea of finding a common ground with this awful man makes your guts turn.

He doesn't even flinch, when the doors behind him slide open. You however, nearly jump out of your skin at the sound, cutting through the deafening silence of the bedroom. With furrowed brow you watch, as three Harkonnen women spill into the room. All of them completely hairless, lips pulled back in feral snarls, as they regard you with an emotion you can only interpret as contempt. Their bodies, clad in typical, Harkonnen garments, flow and slither, when they gather behind your husband, like three hungry lionesses, their black eyes flickering to him, to you.

- Get her ready - Fey Rautha throws a command over his shoulder, eyes glued to you still, and his gaze drags itself across your body like tar.

This is the first time you've heard him speak since the wedding, and involuntarily, you cringe at the gravely sound. While he stayed silent, it was easy to forget who you're dealing with. But as soon as sound leaves his mouth, you're cruelly reminded of the roughness, and the strangeness of your life's partner.

The three women stir behind him, hands sliding up his body in a gesture, that is almost too close to reverence. He does look like a young god, like some ethereal being, but you're too distressed to dwell on that thought. Instead, your arms encircle your body, a shiver of terror and strangely, disgust flowing over you, at the mere idea of these women touching you. Then, one of those three strange creatures moves forward. She has a stripe of black running down her bottom lip, and her face twists into a cruel smile.

She says something in a language you don't recognize. Probably a native Harkonnen. A rough bark, her disgusted expression translating the meaning better, than any dictionary would.

Still, you have no time to process the foreign insult, because as soon as words leave her mouth, your husband turns. His white hand grabs the woman's hairless head, as one would pick an apple from an orchard, and then, you see a flicker of true terror flash through the woman's face. In a smooth, deadly gesture, Feyd Rautha smashes her face against the wall, the resounding sound of her skull fracturing against the concrete is like the cracking of a whip in your ears.

That's all it takes, one move, and she falls into a lifeless heap, sliding down the wall.

A sigh escapes your lips, as your eyes stay glued to her body. You can't see her face.

Your husband barks something towards the remaining two women, and they scurry towards you, heads hung low, bodies curled onto themselves. You don't know, whether he looks at you, acknowledges you in any way, shape or form. The doors close behind him, as he leaves you in the hands of his... Whatever these women are to him.

They begin to strip you where you stand. Their hands peel off your wedding dress from your trembling body, and every move feels like tearing skin from muscle. You can't protest, can't do anything really. Dark, thick blood pools around the third woman's head, dripping between the tilled floor, slowly making it's way closer to your feet.

When they pull you towards the bed, you say nothing. Let them massage your body with some ointment, which smells of heavy chemicals and scratches your throat.

Their hands are unexpectedly delicate. You suppose they're too scared to take revenge on you, or perhaps, they just don't care. Doesn't really matter, because you do. You really care, despite yourself. Heart squeezes in your chest impossibly tight, when they help you up from the bed, and once again you're confronted with the white corpse in the corner of the room.

The dress they pull over your body hardly qualifies as a garment in your eyes. It's made of delicate, sheer material, which barely covers anything, looking more like a courtain thrown over a window.

Is this how he wants you, you wonder. Terrified, bare, always on the verge of something, be it tears or anger.

One of the women steps in front of you, takes your hands in hers and rubs something into your cold bones. You try to catch her eye, try to decipher how to categorize them, as humans or as creatures, but she swiftly ducks under your inquisitive gaze. That is, until your eyes flicker towards the corpse once again.

Her hand shoots up towards your chin, dragging you back to meet her onyx eyes. You can see the reflection of your own confused face in the void.

- You- she rasps, her voice a grating symphony of gurgles and growls that stumble over the common language - Soft.

Whether it's a warning, or a threat, you can't fully decide, but it doesn't matter. Those two words tell you more about your future life, than any book, any archived account. This is what the Harkonnens are made of. Sensless violence, outbursts of anger, dark blood. You swallow thickly, and nod, your expression hardening in the woman's eyes. She looks as if there's something else she'd want to say, but her head ducks at record speed, when the sound of the doors opening cuts through the air once more.

For a longer moment you're completely devoid of words.

Here stands you husband, some sort of fruit in his right hand, two daggers hanging from the belt on his trousers. His chest, white and (unfortunately) toned beyond belief stares back at you. His unoccupied hand makes a wide gesture, and the remaining two women scurry off towards their third, dead companion. With quick hands, they grab the body and drag it out of the room, letting the door slide closed behind them. Immediately, you miss their presence, unnerving as they are.

Once again, you're left alone with the na-Baron.

His eyes float freely all over your figure, taking it in with an impassive stare. It's deeply unnerving, the way you're presented to him, the way he organized all of this, tailored it to his liking. You can't help it, the way your body begins to warm before him, skin becoming prickly to the touch, much too sensitive for the strange imitation of fabric covering it. Still, your mind stays sharp, and instinct kicks in, as you take a cautious step back, angling your bady away from him.

- So, what now? - you ask, voice rough, eyes following his every move.

And move he does, slowly advancing towards you. His feet, which you now discover, are bare, drag behind him. Grace and danger mix well within his movements, as he circles you, still without a word. You throat runs dry, when he bites the fruit in his hand, dark juice spilling all over his lips, drops rolling down his hands, his forearms. Your stomach churns.

- Now - again you're reminded of the gravely tones his voice can carry - We consumate our marriage, wife.

Somehow, your marital status sounds like a mockery spilling from his lips, and he laughs at the way your face scrunches.

- I don't want you to touch me - a lie, your entire body burns for any semblence of friction, but you're determined to keep some dignity.

To that, he nods his head in silent agreement, a gesture, which actually manages to surprise you. The fruit is thrown forgotten onto the floor. It rolls under the bed, and you fight the urge to reprimend your husband. Instead, you bite your lip.

- I thought you would say that - he murmurs, coming closer, his breath fanning over your exposed shoulder.

The hair at the back of your neck stands straight, and you crane your head to the side, so you can look him in the face. So he can see the disaproving expression, perhaps he'd feel a fraction of the hate boiling in your gaze. Then, you can feel something, cold and sharp, drag itself from the dip in your spine, all the way up to your shoulder blades. A gasp escapes you, and your entire body shivers violently.

- That's why I brought these. - Feyd Rautha whispers into your ear, and you can't help but sway lightly in your place, as if his words have the power to physically move you.

Then, your hand closes around a metal object, and you look down to be met with a beautifully crafted dagger. The blade is silver, shiny, and unbelievably sharp. It fits into your grasp as if it was made specially for you, and the possibility almost makes you smile. Then, confusion creases your brow, and your husband flashes you a deadly, black smile, as he steps back a couple of steps.

He's holding a blade as well, jet black and strangely matte, a perfect antitype of yours. There's a sort of lazy excitement about him, hidden in every movement. It reminds you of the way he'd behave in the arena, while making a spectacle of death for you and your family.

- I though this would work on you - he muses, twirling the blade in his hand, and your muscles seize with realization. - And it definitely works on me.

The idea is preposterous, utterly scandalous. Using a fight as some perverse attempt at foreplay, your brain swimms with conflicting emotions.

- You're being ridiculous - you attempt to diffuse the situation, but your husband doesn't budge, rolling his shoulders.

- Come on, wife - he snarls, with a sharp smirk - Don't you want to hurt me?

Something boils inside of you at his words. Some ancient, terrifying anger that you supposed, has always been there with you. From the moment you stepped onto the red carpet, leading you towards your undoing at the altar. Red, like the spilled blood still staining the floor of this bedroom. The rage, which you swallowed down, when you recited the vows, when you let him unveil your face, kiss you in front of the entire Atreides court. Now, it seeped through every pore in your skin, covering you in a tar like courtain.

You hate your husband. You hate Feyd Rautha, the na-Baron of House Harkonnen.

Hate him for being your husband, for agreeing to this cruel match. For taking you away from your family, from your wise Father, and your strict Mother, and your sweet Brother. For ripping you away from love, which didn't even have time to properly bloom. Duncan's face dances in front of you like a taunting vision from an angry god, and your fingers tighten around the dagger.

Feyd Rautha is right. You want to hurt him. You wanted to, before you even met him.

- There you are - his lips pull back into a cruel, blackened smile of self-satisfaction - I was worried they took away all your venom, Viper.

You'll show him fucking venom, you think, feet sliding on the floor, twisting your body into a dancing position. Two sets of shields click into life, and suddenly you begin to understand.

This is your arena. This is your bull.

This will be your battlefield for the rest of your life, for as long as you're able to withstand it. With courage and grandiose, your Father's voice haunts you, but soon after another echo rises in your mind. Your Mother, your teacher, her whisper slithers from your memory, a passing comment right before you're shipped off to Giedi Prime, when she squeezed your hand so tight, you were worried tendons under your skin would snap.

Excitement and arousal flow freely from your husband's expression, as he watches yours harden. Something inexplicable settles over your features, a promise. You'll give him a fight of a lifetime, and he'll love it, every single time. It should unnerve you, the way his body lowers itself, like a panther ready to strike. It would've unnerved you some time ago.

Now, however, it shows you a clear path to survival. This is how you take control.

Cold blood splatters from under your feet, as you jump towards him, a series of measured blows following closely behind. He blocks them, lets some be pushed back by the shield. Then, he's on you, brutal and unhibited slashes fly around your body, and you meet all of them with a blocking blade. You're pushed back, towards the wall, where remains of the previous killing still stain the concrete. Blood seeps into the thin fabric on your body, and you shiver in disgust, as it sticks to you.

Your husband doesn't notice, his blade leaves a rather deep mark in the wall, as you duck under his arm, and avoid a nasty punch to the gut.

Plap, plap, plap, your feet carry you through the room, as you try to gain some leverage. The mattress on the bed is surprisingly soft, when you climb on top of it, gaining the advantage of a higher position. An advantage, which is quickly torn out of your hands, as your husband grabs onto your ankle, tugging at it with such force, you tumble down in an instant.

Panic rises in your gut, as the world sins around you, and without really thinking, you let your mind flow into autopilot.

- Let me go! - the Voice tears out of your throat like a landslide, and Feyd Rautha throws himself off of you, his body colliding with the nearby desk.

Books and papers crash to the floor with the force of his figure. Your head swimms, but you will it away, too focused on survival to care for your well-being. Both of you are panting, trying to recover from this sudden use of ancient magics.

- I should rip that treacherous tongue right out of your skull - the threat would carry more strength, if your husband's expression wasn't absolutely dripping with unabashed lust.

Never in your life has someone looked at you this way, and the shock of emotions is enough to pull you right to your feet. Your blade reflects the dim lights of the room, as you raise it high, body taunt and ready.

- You'll never get that close.

A challenge, which doesn't even have enough time to properly resound in the thick air of the room, before Feyd Rautha pushes himself off the desk. Things clatter to the ground from the force of his movements, and you barely have time to react, when his blade sinks into your shield. Your body flies backwards, falling in heap with his at the foot of your marital bed. The edge digs into your back, your left hand pressed tightly into the mattress.

He's hovering over you, panting like a wild animal, face illuminated red from below, where, just short of his juggular, your blade licks a stripe across his alabaster skin. His right hand is wedged between your bodies, dagger nicking you under your ribs. And you stay in this position, like a marble statue, your eyes melting into his, frozen in time.

- You fought well, Atreides - his voice rumbles deep within his chest, and you can't help, but snarl at his words. - We would've taken each other to an early grave.

Something dangerously close to fondness floods his features at the idea, and your fingers start to unravel, letting go of the dagger one by one. He doesn't have a chance to react, when your blade clatters to the floor, and your hand, now free, grabs the back of his head, pulling him down.

Your kiss opens the gates of hell, and soon, his own dagger is thrown across the room. You can't see, refuse to see, as your eyelids flutter closed. His lips are slightly chapped, but not any less delicious. Left hand thrashes in his hold, until he lets it go. Then, they both find purchase against his sharp cheekbones, and you hold him so tight, you might break his face with your ministrations.

- I knew it would work - he pants against your lips, you can hear the smile in every syllable.

- Shut the fuck up - you snarl, fingers digging deeper into his skin.

He groans into the kiss, immediately forcing his tongue into your mouth, as his hands work hard to manouver your legs open enough, for him to slot in between. Then, his touch is everywhere. On your legs, he drags the sheer fabric up and down your thighs, as he carresses your skin, blunt nails digging into the flesh of your hips. They venture upwards, to grab at your breasts, they fight their way into your hair, where he pulls and scrapes.

It doesn't matter, you think, when you hear the fabric tear, and the carefully chosen attire falls from your body. Nothing matters.

You're boneless and defenseless against this one insidious emotion, which carries your every move, which compells you to arch your back, to reveal your running pulse under his searching lips. Feyd Rautha bites down on your skin, right where your neck meets your shoulder, and you respond in kind, head descending upon his porcelain skin. He shudders under your teeth and tongue, his entire body tensing.

This is how you take control, and you've never felt so greedy.

His trousers aren't even fully off of his legs, when he enters you, clumsily and with urgency, bare feet sliding on the floor. Surprisingly inexperienced, he chases your core with his entire body, as if the heat of your insides in a completely foreign sensation.Your moan tears at the column of your throat, where his lips leave a trail of purple marks. The covers remains undisturbed, as your husband ruts into you, pressing your back harder against the edge of the bed. It's uncomfortable, it's hurtful, but somehow, it feels perfect for the two of you. Fucking like wild animals, not even able to make it onto the bed.

- I hate you - you repeat, like a mantra, broken voice cascading with every thrust. - I hate you, I ha-

Your head rolls backwards, when a particularly hard thrust nearly breaks you, but your husband is here to help, his hand grabbing the the roots of your hair, bringing your head down, so you can watch as he performs a magic trick of repeatedly disapearing into your body.

You're not sure who's blood his hand slips on, but suddenly, you're fully on the floor, your body crushed by his. Nothing stops his wild movements, not the sloppiness of it all, not the hard wails he tears from your body. If anything, the more strain his body is under, the more ferocious he's being. Your hand shoots up, all five fingers digging into his throat, and you're rewarded with an angelic moan, which almost brings you to your finish line. Almost.

His head leans down into the crook of your neck, where he whispers something in Harkonnen, a gurgle of rough sounds, interrupted by sinful moans. He sounds so beautiful, so conflicted, for a second you consider being gentle with him. Alas, you hate him still.

Another realization dawns upon you, as your feet kick with force into your husbands backside, to force him deeper, to keep him inside. This is still a fight. You're still on the battlefield, still waving a red flag in front of a raging bull. So, with courage and grandiose, your muscles tense, and you roll your husband over.

The change in position makes both of you gasp in unison, as you sink down onto him. For a second, everything stops. His lips are red and swollen, sweat and blood mix on his skin, flow down in pinkish stripes. And he watches you, as one would a holy painting of a foreign god. With reverence and utter lack of understanding. You're fully aware the look is mirrored on your face.

Slowly at first, your hips begin to rock, up and down, in a steady rhythm, that forces a shuddering breath to leave Feyd Rautha's lips. You bend down, to catch it, and because of your greed, you catch his bottom lip as well. The bite you give him is anything but romantic, and his hips jump from the floor, hitting a spot within you, you didn't know existed. He swallows your moan along with his own blood, and his fingertips map the curve of your spine, as you straighten upon him.

Fingernails latch themselves into the skin of his chest, as you speed up, chasing your own release and no one else's. Moans spill from your lips, the concept of shame abandoning your mind completely. Then, compelled by something dark and twisted you drag claw marks down his torso.

His body shudders, and his hips lift off the ground, fucking into you with reckless abandon. The hold he has on the flesh of your hips is bruising, to say the least, but you did enough damage to call it even. Enough, to make your body tremble and tense up, as climax creeps up on you steadily.

Like a shark sniffing for blood, he senses the change in your being, and as you tumble over the edge, a silent scream tearing at your throat, he suddenly rises into a seating position. His arms encircle you fully, pressing your sweaty bodies impossibly close, as he too finds his own end.

It takes him second, to tumble over, filling you to the brim with ink. His head buries itself into your shoulder, inhaling your scent through deep gasps, each eliciting a broken growl from his chest.

Your bones are gone completely, body relaxing and falling breathless into your husband's arms. After a while of sitting in complete stillness, he moves first. Strong hands lift you up, off of him, and you whine at the emptiness.

Then, as a last hurrah, he throws you onto the bed, where your recovering body sinks into the soft mattress. It's heavenly, the way you seem to float in nothingness, head swimming from exertion. For a moment you don't even register him climbing into the bed with you, drunk on the fading tension seeping from your every pore.

The lights are almost completely out, yet his skin shines against the black comforter. You wish to see if he's flushed, like he was at the engagement party. Leaning on one arm, his fingers trail around the small wound under your ribs. Dried blood flakes off of your skin, and you shudder again.

- I - you start, voice completely broken - I've never known hate, until I met you.

You're not sure why you've said it. Perhaps, in this moment of serenity, truth seems to float to the surface much more easily. Or perhaps you're possessed, or worse, gone completely insane. Eother way, your eyebrows furrow, and Feyd Rautha leans down to kiss your forehead, gently.

- If this is how your hate looks like - he whispers into your hairline, teeth scraping lightly against it - I dread to imagine your love.

You'll never find out, you think, but for some reason can't fully vocalize it.

He says something else, after a while, but your mind is becoming as heavy as your body, and as the day descends upon you in a heap of exhaustion, you fall asleep.

And while your story has nothing but suffering in the future, while there's death and mourning, and years of violence written in the stars for you. Right now, on the Harkonnen ship sailing through space to Giedi Prime, you sleep in the arms of your husband. Whether this strange symbiotic relationship will last, no one can tell, but there is hope, and what else could you possibly need?

#my writing #dune part 2 #dune x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #dune smut #what a journey my gosh #thank you once again for following the story love y'all

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messrmoonyy · 3 months

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-What they’re like as your bf/gf (Hcs) 18+

Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Dutch Van Der Linde, Sadie Adler, Molly O’Shea

Request- Hi if it’s okay could I ask for some hcs of some of the gang and what they’re like dating with you? NSFW ones toooo🙈🙊 could you include Arthur, John, Dutch, Sadie, Javier and maybe any of the other girls Mary-Beth or Molly or Karen? Thank you 🙏🏻

A/N- I didn’t include Javier cause I like barely speak with him in camp or anything idk I don’t vibe with Javier tbh. And I saw my chance to word vomit my Molly brain rot and ran with it so she’s the girl I picked. Hope this is okay! Enjoy :)

Masterlist - requests are open :)

Arthur Morgan

- We’ve all seen how he was with Mary. He’d be besotted with you

- His journal would be filled with sketches of you, entries talking about how much he adores you, little notes about how you looked that day or musings about his plans for your future together.

- Definitely doodles a little heart with your initials too <3

- He’s touch starved. So he loves physical contact. A hand to your knee, your back, arm around your shoulders or your waist. He likes keeping you close.

- Brings you stuff from his little travels. Picks flowers for you, finds little trinkets for you.

- Keeps a picture of you by his bed.

- Forehead kisses!!!!!

- Kisses your hand. And kisses to your wrist. He loves when you reach up to cup his face and he can turn to press his lips against your wrist.

- He’s so much more than a tough, burly cowboy. He’s quiet, caring, considerate. And he adores you

NSFW

- takes his time. Likes to work at you until not a single tense muscle is left in your body. Worships you.

- Loves any positions where he can see your face, needs to be close enough to constantly kiss you and tell you how good you are for him

- “ there’s my girl, doin so good for me darlin “ “ jus’ like that darlin, let me take good care of ya “

- Not incredibly vocal, but the noises he does make he ensures are right by your ear.

- Refuses to finish before you ever.

- Loves to finish inside tho. He knows it’s risky, but he loves the closeness. And if he’s feeling particularly risky he’ll definitely push his come back into you with his fingers “ don’t waste it now “

- Grips The headboard.

John Marston

- he’s stupid. He really is. He’ll be head over heels for you, with you clearly reciprocating those feelings and he’d still think you didn’t like him like that.

- Like. You could kiss him and he’d still be like ‘ what are we? ‘

- When he does finally put two and two together he’ll have no shame or cautions in showing you off.

- He’s handsy. Likes coming up behind you when you’re washing dishes for Pearson to rub at your shoulders.

- Or pull you down to sit on his lap before you can even think about taking the empty spot on the log next to him by the fire.

- Overprotective. One tiny snide comment from anyone and he’s ready to start swinging.

- Definitely knows how to push your buttons and wind you up, and will do it just for fun and to get a rise outta you.

- And then spend the rest of day grovelling and apologising.

NSFW

- Loves going down on you. Like. Loves it. The man could spend hours there if you’d let him and Lord has he tried.

- Not very serious most of the time.

- Pretty vocal. And doesn’t really care if anyone’s listening either.

- Like i said, he’s handsy. His hands are restless and will grab at whatever part of you they can.

- Loves when you ride him and has absolutely made a cowgirl joke more than once.

- Will grab at your hips and guide your movements as you do. Told you he’s handsy.

- But also isn’t opposed to you on your back, legs over his shoulders. Presses kisses to your ankles and makes jokes about how good the view is.

Dutch Van Der Linde

- he’s not the most attentive of people at times. He’s constantly in his head and constantly thinking about things that aren’t you.

- But when he does allow himself time alone with you he is disgustingly charming.

- He always knows what to say, always knows the right words to have you melting into a puddle at his feet. You could be in the worst mood with him but a few whispers in your ear and it’s all forgotten.

- Has a million terms of endearment for you. My angel, my dear , my darling. He rarely ever uses your actual name, only when he’s mad.

- Loves to give you gifts, the more expensive the better. And he likes you to show them off too. He likes to show you off.

- Reads to you a lot.

- PDA is afraid of him. He doesn’t care where he is or who’s watching him, he’ll loop an arm around your waist to kiss your neck, pull you onto his lap when he’s reading beside his tent and kiss you. No shame.

NSFW

- will take his time with you but in a far different way to, say, Arthur

- He’ll edge you and overstimulate you for hours, because be gets off on the fact that you simply let him. That you obey his every command.

- Degrading and humiliating 🤝🏻 Dutch Van Der Linde

- He’s never too mean. And his degrading comments are more often than not laced with something sweet.

- Dacryphilic. 100000%. He loves watching you cry because he’s worked you into such an overstimulated mess.

- He’ll swipe your tears away or kiss them from your cheeks “ well isn’t that just a pretty sight? “ “ those tears for me, my angel? “

- Definitely has some kind of authority kink. Likes you calling him sir for sure.

- Loves you giving him head. Just loves you on your knees. It’s a power thing. And he’s a cocky son of a bitch.

- Sat back in his chair and won’t lift a damn finger to help you out, won’t even unbuckle his belt. And don’t tell me he doesn’t smoke whilst he watches you.

Sadie Adler

- She is absolutely not shy about her feelings when she finally accepts she has them.

- Shes just so sweet to you.

- Around camp she’s stuck to you like glue. Her arm is permanently around your waist or your shoulders, or her hand laced with yours and is ready to snap at any intrusive questions from anyone else about it at the drop of a hat

- Love language is gift giving. Just taken in a bounty but found a shiny lil necklace in his pocket? Well. It’s hers now. Or should I say, yours.

- If your hairs long enough she’ll braid it like hers, any excuse to be able to sit close to you and whisper sweet things in your ear.

- Would teach you how to shoot better, she wants to make sure you know how to defend yourself. but also wants the excuse to stand behind you and show you how to hold her rifle properly.

- Big spoon.

NSFW

- Sadie’s gained control over literally everything else in life, and it doesn’t change in the bedroom

- She trusts you whole heartedly but she’s not about to give up any sort of control to you for a While

- Makes sure she can see your face at all times, loves watching your face contort and relax in pleasure that she’s giving you

- Full of praise “ ain’t you just the prettiest thing? “ “ oh look at you! D’ya know how pretty you look from here? “ “ always such a good girl for me “

- Has a thing for putting her fingers in your mouth. Especially after she’s just fucked you with them.

- Having you on your knees eating her out drives her crazy. Will pull at your hair a little too hard but will soothe the sting with a thousand words of praise about how good you make her feel.

- And now hear me out. Loves to watch you. Will book you a hotel room together just so she can sit across the room and watch you touch yourself for her, encouraging you the entire time

- It’s never long before she absolutely has to have her hands on you though in the end.

Molly O’Shea

- sheeeee has some trust issues. And abandonment issues. She’s just… she’s a lot at times.

- But she is fiercely loyal and will love you with every fibre of her being

- And she wants to be loved as fiercely in return. She’ll spiral without constant reassurance “ d’you even love me anymore? “ “did I do somethin wrong? Haven’t told me you love me today “

- She knows deep down you do love her. She’s just afraid.

- She is such a romantic. She loves holding your hand, sitting close to you, doing your makeup like hers and stealing kisses in between painting your lips red

- She’ll write you sappy romantic poetry and leave you lil notes

- You’ll often overhear her gushing to other people about how in love she is too. She just loves to talk about you and how deeply she adores you.

- Likes when you give her forehead kisses.

NSFW

- Pillow princess. End of story.

- She’s not completely submissive though. She’ll tell you what she wants and what she likes

- She just wants to be taken care of okay. She needs to be taken care of.

- Makes the softest, sweetest sounds and will tell you she loves you a million times over.

- Enjoys when things just… naturally happen. Cuddling with you at night, but pushing her hips lightly back against you. Which usually ends with your hand slipping past her waistband and making her come on your fingers.

- Likes to be on top of you sometimes, simply so she can show off whilst she strips. Not to really do anything. Shes really not that much of a giver. She likes being watched. She likes to know she’s desired. And usually it ends up with you dragging her to sit on your face.

- You have to shower her with praise. She wants to know she looks beautiful, that she’s doing well, worship her. Which is incredibly easy for you cause like fucking look at her she’s gorgeous.

- Wraps herself around you when you cuddle after, legs intertwined and arms around you, head buried in your chest or neck. Pls my sweet baby needs to be held.

760 notes · View notes

mj0702 · 5 months

Text

The other Bronze – Pt. 3

For all the patient waiting people (like @valewosomtb) and my Bubs (I'm proud of you and always will be ❤️)

And please remember - this is pure fiction... so it doesn't need to make sense 🤣

You wandered the streets of Barcelona gotten lost a long time ago but not caring to open google maps.

“Seriously Luce.... kicking me out so you can... probably get some” you mumble to yourself rounding the next corner.

The next thing you knew was that you were sitting on your Ass with a beautiful girl across from you, looking just as baffled before starting to talk to you in spanish. You made the international known sign for “I don't understand” by shrugging your shoulders as you try to push yourself up again.

“Ehrm... damn... what was the spanish Word for English...” you mumbled to yourself before looking at the woman “Inglés?” you ask embarrassed

“Of course” the woman said laughing as she stood up herself offering you a hand “I said I'm so sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going”

“Oh god no, I wasn't looking... I... kinda got lost and am too lazy to open maps” you say before you wince as you push yourself up from the pavement

“Are you okay? You look like you hurt something” the woman asked concerned

“Yeah I'm good” you wave off, knowing fully well you weren't good. You definitely sprained your wrist – if not worse. Ugh – your sister will kill you. Such an inconvenience.

“Are you sure?” the woman asked you again this time with a little insistence

“Yeah, I'm sure – you speak very clear english for a spanish person” you said and tried to change the topic

“Oh I'm not Spanish – I'm in fact German... we learn english in school” she winked

“Oh German... now that's interesting” you muse, a smile tugging on your lips

“And why's that?” the woman asked

“I... don't know... I thought it would be nice to say that” you rubbed the back of your neck smiling embarrassed.

The woman laughed loudly “At least you didn't make any bad jokes about us not being funny... that's a plus” she winked before looking at you “Where are you from?”

“Born in Aberdeen, raised in Berwick-upon-Tweed... generally speaking – I'm from England” you grin

“What brought you to the most beautiful city in Europe then?” the Woman asked smiling softly

“Visiting family... Y/N by the way... I thought I should introduce myself before you declare me as unpolite” you continue to grin as you offer your left hand for her to shake

“Left Hand? You english People really are something else” she smiled before taking you're offered Hand “Caroline... friends call me Caro”

“I may or may not have sprained my wrist – that's the reason for the left hand... but yes, we're also something else... so tell me... Caro... what brought you to Barcelona” you tested the waters by using the Womans short name

She smiled “Feeling bold, are you? Assuming we're friends and using my Nickname without even asking”

Again you were thrown off guard by her forwardness “Ehrm... I thought if you tell me something like this, I... could just... you know – use the information”

This time the Blonde laughed freely “Don't sweat it... it's okay... Can I... maybe interest you in drinking a coffee with me?”

“Like a date?” you said confused

“More like a “I'm sorry I ran into you and put you on your ass” coffee” the blonde smirked

“In that case... I'll pay for yours, you pay for mine... I also put you on your ass” this time you smirked

“Deal” the blue eyed girl said smiling “I know a small coffee place not far from here if you're interested”

“Sure... lead the way” you said, your sprained wrist momentarily forgotten. That's until you wanted to put your hand into your pocket. Suddenly you got painfully reminded of your small incidence as you winced for a second.

“You are very gullible, you know... I could be a serial killer” the blonde said smirking

“It's statistically highly unlikely that two serial killer run into each other and then go out for a coffee” you shrug nonchalantly while the blonde laughed out loudly.

You arrived at the small coffee shop, which was a cute one. A little hidden away from the bigger streets, it immediately got calmer and quieter – for the first time since you touched spanish ground, you allowed yourself to breath. Caro took you through an Archway into a beautiful courtyard where she pointed to a little – tiny even – shop with three or four tables. You stopped in the middle of the courtyard and slowly spun around taking in the beauty of this place. The sandstone Walls looked like they could tell endless stories about colourful festive evenings, calm mornings and lovers.

“It's beautiful, isn't it?” the blonde German asked quietly

“I couldn't find the right words to describe this beauty even if I tried” you whispered back still looking around in awe.

“Let's get this coffee and you can stare some more” Caro teased but her voice still soft before she walked towards the little shop, greeting the Owners like they were family.

You sat down at one of the tables while still staring around, waiting for your new found friend to return. There was wild Ivy growing up the walls at some places making it even more mysterious and beautiful. Your companion joined you at your table smiling brightly.

“I gather you're a regular?” you grinned at her nodding towards the Shop

“What gave it away?” Caro laughed “The greeting or that I know there's a Coffee Shop so well hidden that not even many Barcaloneans know of its existences?”

“The Greeting and the fact that I didn't order anything...” you mused smiling “... and yet there are two cups of coffee being prepared”

“Good observation skills, I'm impressed” the German smiled “The owners are former Neighbours of mine... they helped me a great deal when I first came to Barca a few years ago and I still come around every time I'm in the area to say hi”

“That's nice... that you still come here to say hi” you say softly “... friendships like this are important... now... what am I getting?”

“I assumed you're a “Cortado” girl...” the blonde winked

“Huh... come again?” you asked confused

“Cortado... the best you could compare it to is a Latte Macchiato... It's an Espresso with milk... “ the German explained “Just... never call it Latte Macchiato... it's a Cortado”

“Got it... Cortado” you say serious, trying to pronunciation right as you repeat the spanish word

“Sounds good” Caro grinned as your coffee gets served by an elderly Woman “Gracias Nana” the blonde grinned graciously

The two of you drank your coffee in silence before starting to talk about nothing and everything at the same time. You really enjoyed the time with the blonde, who was very easy to get along with. She was funny, witty and light-hearted. You shared a few good laughs while she also taught you some real spanish (unlike Mapí did) so you would at least be able to order your coffee the next time on your own. In her company you absolutely forgot the time – which resulted in also forgetting your “engagement” with Keira.. and Alexia... and Lucy... and Mapí. As the sun started to set you realised that you might talked longer with the German as you planned – and that your Phone was dead.

“”Ehrm... I really have a good time... I REALLY do... but... what time is it?” you asked embarrassed after you checked your – very VERY – dead phone.

“Just before 6pm” your new friend answered with a glance at her watch

“Uh oh” was the only thought on your mind which also made it out of you verbally “How far is that football place from here?”

“Camp Nou? About 30 Minutes, why?” Caro looked at you confused as you try frantically to restart your Phone.

“I'm dead... I'm so SO dead.. my Sister is going to kill me” you said panicking “I was meant to meet her at Camp... Nope at 3”

“Yeah.. you might be a little late for that” the blonde said awkward “Come on... I can either get you an Uber or I deliver you – and take the blame... or should you rather go home?”

“Ehrm... I don't really remember where “home” is” you confessed embarrassed, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Camp Nuo it is then... come on” your new found friend said smiling already standing up.

You follow suite standing up rummaging in your pocket pulling out the 20 Euros that Lucy gave you putting it down on the table

“Leave it... it's covered already” Caro said grinning pushing the 20 back into your hands.

“But..” you said dumbfolded looking at the bill in your hand

“Mauro and Valeria are family... it's on the house” the blonde winked and started to walking away after yelling a goodbye towards the elderly couple.

You stumbled after her trying to keep up “But we had a deal”

“Next time” the german waved off already a few steps in front of you her mobile in her hand ordering an Uber.

You just needed to wait around five minutes for a car to pull up and Caro opened the back door

“Your chariot awaits, my lady” the german grinned waiting for you to climb into the backseat

She gave the driver the destination and you were on the way towards Camp Nuo. As the Uber pulled up you immediately spotted a small group of people.

“I'm so dead” you mumbled as you saw one of them roaming in front of the group a mobile phone in her hand before it makes the way to her ear to just be brought back down seconds later

“Let me guess.. the one trying to call you is your sister?” the blonde german smirked at your frozen like state pushing you out off the car following closely behind

“Can we just drive off a...” you started but got interrupted by loud angry yelling

“Y/N BRONZE!!!! ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS???!!!”

“Bronze??” Caro asked confused “As in Lucy Bronze?”

“My sister” you mumbled quietly as you took cover behind the blonde

“Oh my god” the blonde whispered shocked

“Is she coming over??” you asked from behind her not daring to look

“She tries... other people holding her back... is that Alexia Putellas?” your new friend mumbles back standing frozen in place

“Probably” you whispered “You seem to know players... is Keira Walsh in that huddle somewhere?”

“I think so... I mean I'm not sure” the german answered lowly

“I call out for her and you have to tell me if someone reacts, okay?? KEIRA????” you yelled from behind Caro hoping that Keira was still around

“Yep... someone just looked over” your german friend said as Keira looked over

“Good.... can you bring me over to her without Lucy noticing?” you questioned

“Ehrm... this is Lucy Bronze we're talking about.... I don't think there's anything that goes unnoticed by her” Caro mumbled back

“You give her too much credit” you rolled your eyes behind the taller woman “Okay... maybe you could distract her and I run over to saftey – namely Keira”

“How should I distract a world class defender? Have you seen the stuff she pulled off at the Worldcup??”

“Ask her for a Autograph or something... go fangirling” you said pushing your friend forward.

“Absolutely not” Caro said shaking her head “Ooooooh... they're coming over”

“Okay...” you said panicking “You go left, I go right”

“You do realize that they have zero intrest in me, right?” she asked you raising an eyebrow

“Damnit” you swore quietly

“Cariño” you suddenly hear behind your human shield “would you mind stepping around this nice woman”

“No” you mumbled now grabbing Caros shirt

“Cariño” Alexia said but you heard her warning tone “I promise Lucia won't hurt you”

You peeked around your human shield to see Lucy a few feet away flanked by Ingrid and Ona and her face showed pure fury. Alexia stood right in front of Caro and you acting like a mediator.

“It wasn't my fault, I swear” you rushed out but stayed behind the german

“I didn't say it was but we were very worried” the spaniard said calm “now please step around that poor woman who you roped into this”

“Her name is Caro and she's german” you said still not moving from behind her

“Hola” Alexia said to your friend not sparing her a second glance “Do not make me get you out from behind her”

You reluctantly step around Caro standing now next to her your head hung low

“Thank you” the blonde spaniard said before she grabbed your wrist pulling you away a bit

“Alexia please” you digged your feet into the ground trying to stop the unievitable “She'll kill me and it was really an accident”

“She won't kill you stop being so.. dramático” Alexia said calmly as she pulled you over to where the others were standing.

You looked back over your shoulder towards your new friend who had a sorrowful look on her face waving slightly before turning around ready to leave

“Wait” you called out to her “I still owe you this coffee... Alexia please... One minute, okay”

Alexia stopped and let go of your wrist turning around to you

“You can't out run me... even if you try...” she warned you

“I just want to make sure there's a chance I can pay back my depth” you rolled your eyes

You quickly walked back to the german pulling out that 20 Euro bill scribbling your number down pushing it into Caros hand

“Call me... when I charged my phone again” you smiled then turning around walking back to the waiting Barcelona captain

“Wise choice not trying to run” Alexia said smiling slightly

“It's not like I would come very far” you shrugged nodding towards the bunch of football players standing a few feet behind Alexia

“True... now come one – you have to explain quite a bit” the blonde smiled encouraging at you pulling you along towards the small crowd

“Do you actually know what I just went through???” Lucy yelled the second you were close enough “I thought you.... I don't know... got killed or laying dead in a ditch or something!!”

You stepped behind Alexia hiding behind her. You knew your sister loved you to death so her yelling at you was bad

“Lucia” Alexia warned noticing how it effected you “We said no yelling... explain what happened Cariño”

You shook your head taking a step back just to feel someone cutting off your escape route. When you looked around it was Keira who had a blank look on her face

“It was really an accident Kei... I swear... Lucy gave me money and said I should go to the next Starbucks... I didn't want google the route, so I got lost and just wandered around... I met Caro because I ran into her and put her to her ass so I wanted to apologise by buying her a coffee and she said she knew a nice place and so I went with her... it was a really cute place and I forgot about time and when the sun set I checked my phone to see it died” you said talking one mile an hour trying to convince her that you didn't want to cause trouble on purpose.

Keira took a deep breath listening closely to your rant before holding up a hand

“Bitsy do you realize how much you had us worried... I mean I'm used to you wandering off but you don't know this city – as beautiful as Barcelona is, it can be dangerous... you don't know where to go and where to stay away from... hell Bitsy you don't even speak the language” she said and you saw that Keira held herself back

“I really didn't mean too” you answered sadly looking down

“I know... but that doesn't make it any less scary for us” the englishwoman said quietly before engulfing you in a bear hug.

“Will she kill me?” you mumbled into Keiras shoulder as you hugged her back

“No” the englishwoman chuckled “she probably handcuff you to herself... or bring back the dino-harness”

“Ugh... please don't let her” you groaned being remembered of one of the most embarrassing things Lucy ever done to you

You were about 10 when Keira took you to Lucy who was playing in Lyon at the time. They decided it would be a good idea to go with you to the park so you can power yourself out. Needless to say that you indeed used the whole park – much to the dismay of Lucy who had her first ever panic attack because she lost you. After that incident she immediately bought one of these kiddi-leashes to keep you in check. And not only did she make you wear it when you three were out in privat – oh no... she'd made you wear it when she went to training. So the first time you met worldclass players like Wendie Renard, Amandine Henry or Dzsenifer Marozsán you were strapped in a kids harness which had a dinosaur design – to be exact a dino whose biting his own tail - with a leash attached to its back. Looking back now it was probably the saftest – but also the most embarressing - option for you since you would have definitely wandered off exploring Stade Gérard Houllier and probably have gotten into trouble somehow. So you spent a whole training being tied to post next to the pitch solmley to the fact that Keira had something else to do and couldn't take you with her.

Now as Keira hugged you tightly and brought back those memories which resulted in you pressing your face into her shoulder. Just as you got comfortable against Keira you got ripped away from her embrance and found yourself at the receiving end of another tight hug.

“Never EVER do that again, Bubs” your sister mumbled into your hair “You can't just disappear like that... I was so SO scared”

“I'm sorry, Luce” you mumbled back thankful that she got over her initial angryness

“Are you okay? Nobody hurt you, right? Who was that woman?” Lucy fired question after question as she pushed you backwards to take a look at you

“I'm good Luce... really” you said hiding your slightly swollen wrist “That woman was Caro... I ran into her and she helped me getting here”

“You can't just go with strangers, Bubs... I thought I drilled that into your head back in Lyon” your sister said and looked at you somehow helplessly

“It wasn't like I knew where I was or something” you rolled your eyes “She seemed nice and she really helped me”

“Cariño” you suddenly heared behind you again and it made you jump a little

“Hm?” you hummed carefully turning around facing Alexia

“Are you really okay?” she stared down at you and you knew that she knew.

“Yes... yes I am” you tried to sound convincing but your voice betrayed you at the end

“Oh my god, you aren't” your sister exclaimed “Tell me.. you did get hurt, didn't you?! Is it bad? Do you need an ambulance? No wait... I drive you... Ona... get the car – we need to go to the hospital and you need to translate”

“Lucy!” you yelled “I'm fine... no ambulance, no hospital... calm your tits”

“You know you were never good at lying, Bitsy” Keira grinned “And if even Lucy picks up on it, then it's a really bad attempt”

“I'm not lying” you pressed still hiding your injured wrist

“Are we stretching the truth again then?” Keira asked knowingly

“Maybe” you said, looking down starting to kick the pavement embarrassed

“Show me immediately” Lucy demanded and already started to inspect your face moving her hands down to check your shoulders

“Keira” you whined trying to get away from your sisters prying hands

“Lucy stop it... it's her left wrist” the englishwoman rolled her eyes

“How did you... outch Luce” you started as your sister grabbed your wrist making you hiss out in pain

“You're not as sneaky as you think Bitsy” Keira grinned

“But I... Ow Lucy... that hurts man” you said bewildered before your sister put a little pressure on your wrist which hurts a LOT

“You tried to hide it very well – yes you did” Keira chooed and pinched your cheek “But not well enough for me or Alexia”

“Why would you hide something like this, Cariño?” the barca captain wanted to know

“You saw how she reacted and she didn't even know I was injured... OW!” you said nodding towards your sister while Lucy was prodding your wrist

Alexia delicatly took your hand out of Lucys hands and inspected it closely turned and stretched it carefully. You hissed at some of the movements even trying to pull away at one turn but one stern look from the blonde spainard made clear that you wouldn't get away

“It hurts” you mumbled as you tried to pull away again

“I bet” Alexia said quietly still inspecting your wrist “Looks like a sprain but to be sure you need some... radiografía”

“I need WHAT?” you squeaked shocked and scared at the same time

“Ona... what is radiografá” the spainard asked her teammate

“X-Ray.. you need some x-rays” the young catalonian said

“HA” Lucy exclaimed in a “I told you so”-tone

“Nooooo” you whined and JUST stopped yourself from stomping your foot

“Come on Bubs...” your sister said lovingly as she laid her arm around your shoulder and pulled you towards her Cupra “... I heard the spanish hospitals are quite an experience”

“Keira” you whined begging looking at her with big puppy eyes

“I'll meet you there okay?” the englishwoman said reassuring

“Excuse me... I'm there with you, you don't need to whine for Kei” Lucy said accusing

“But Keira knows everything about me... you're like a piece of swiss cheese sometimes” you said embarrassed

“I know EVERYTHING about you” your sister exclaimed outraged

“What's my blood type?” you raised an eyebrow

“Red” your sister shrugged as she opened the back door of her car for you

“Nope... uh-hu... I won't let you take any responsebility or make any medical decision when your answer is “Red” as a blood type” you shook your head fast

“Bet Keira doesn't know either” Lucy rolled her eyes looking over towards her fellow england teammate

“AB positive” the blonde said before entering her own car

“Seriously??” Lucy exclaimed throwing her arms up in annoyance

“I'm driving with Keira” you said quickly trying to get into her car

“You're not” your sister grabbed your shirt pulling you back “Stop being a child and get in the car”

“Then I want to ride shotgun” you said stubborn

“Ona is riding shotgun” Lucy said calm

“Ona is what?” the short woman asked confused pointing at herself

“You front” Lucy pointed at her girlfriend “You back” she pointed at you

“Why?” you whined again

“My Cupra has a lot of buttons – you will push all of them and probably break it” your sister explained

You huffed offended but climbed into the back of the sleek black car.

“Fucking finally” Lucy sighed and rolled her eyes after she closed the car door

“Be nice... she's upset” Ona said over the roof opening the passenger side door climbing in

“I'm upset too” your sister mumbled getting into the driver seat and started the car to drive you to the hospital.

The drive only took 15 minutes but for you it became nearly unbearable. You hated hospitals – with a passion. You had to spend some time in hospital when you were about six years old due to a burst appendix and since that time it was a mission to get you to put a foot in said buildings. It took Keira a lot of bribing to get you to visit Lucy when she had her knee surgery. That's how bad it was – you wouldn't even enter a hospital for visiting others.

“Come on, Bubs... let's get this wrist checked out” Lucy said softly as she leaned in the open car door. You didn't even noticed the car came to a halt before being deep in thoughts what could go wrong with a simple check-up. They could discover something worse and will keep you in there and probably maybe surgery and something goes wrong and you're going to die on that table. You decided right there and then you won't enter the hospital – there was a high risk of dying and your life just begun.

“Bubs?” your sister tried again seeing you spiraling, your forehead showing wrinkles you keep biting your lip your eyes staring into nothing

“Let me... you know how she gets about hospitals” Keira said softly arriving just in time to see you in distress “Get her checked in, I'll get her in there okay?”

“Kay... thanks Kei...” Lucy sighed then looking at Ona sheepishly “you need to help me... these forms are probably in spanish”

The short catalonian grinned “Aren't you around long enough to know basic spanish by now?”

“Speaking it... not reading it” Lucy mocked her girlfriend

As the two Barca players entered the hospital to get you checked in for your wrist Keira slipped into the backseat of Lucys car right next to you.

“Hey Bitsy” she said quietly trying to get your attention laying her hand carefully on your knee

“I don't want to go in there, Kei... I'm going to die” you said in a monotone but slightly panicked voice

“You're not going to die” the blonde chuckled “They'll do the same as Alexia did, test your ability to move in different directions then decide to take some.... how did you always refer to x-rays when you were younger?”

“Bone pictures” you mumbled

“They will take some bone pictures see that nothing is broken, then either put a simple bandage or a splint on it and we're out again – if you're good, I tell Ona to tell them to give you the good painkillers” Keira tried to walk you through whats most likely to happen.

“But if they discover something wrong with my wrist and they want to do surgery and something goes horribly wrong and I die on the table?” you looked at your comfort person horrified

“Not going to happen, Bitsy... It's just a simple check... and you have too much movability for it to be broken... it's just a sprain, okay?” the blonde englishwoman smiled reassuring

“You promise?” you mumble leaning into Keira

“I promise... now come on... your sister already came out the entrance looking for us three times now” Keira smiled at you

“She should calm her tits...” you rolled your eyes annoyed

“She was so worried, Bitsy... her session today was shit because she felt one guilty for kicking you out and two she was scared that something happened to you... I know you're a big girl now and you definitely can look after yourself but this is still a unknown city to you and honestly Bitsy – if you take a wrong turn you could end up in a very bad area and get killed”

“I really didn't mean to worry you...” you mumbled ashamed

“I know... but cut her some slack... she loves you to bits... she would do everything for you – always have and always will do” the englishwoman smiled while opening her side of the car taking your right hand into hers pulling slightly for you to follow her

“Took you long enough” Lucy whispered so only Keira could hear her

“We're here, aren't we?” the fellow english fired back a little annoyed

“Ona is talking to the nurses if there's anything they could do to get us through faster... I know every minute spend in here she's more likely to bolt” Lucy talked quietly always having an eye on you as you clutched Keiras hand hard.

“She's scared... she's convinced they'll take her in for surgery and she's going to die” the blonde explained as she let you squeeze her hand to the point where it became numb.

“Is there anything I can do?” your sister asks her ex-girlfriend getting a little concerned herself

“Hold her? Tell her you won't leave” Keira said simply and the second she finished Lucy was out of her seat, crouching in front of you

“Come here Bubs... just like old times” she smiled at you before prying your hand off Keiras and pulled you forward so you had to stand up. She then sat down in your place and now pulled you down into her lap holding you tightly

“I've got you Bubs... you know I won't leave and everything will be over quickly” your sister mumbled into your hairline as you laid your head on her shoulder getting tired after your long, eventful day. You were just about to close your eye for a long needed nap as a nice looking young woman with light blue scrubs and a white lab coat called out your name

“y/n?” the doctor called out and Lucy nudged you slightly as Ona made the doctor aware that you were infact there

You slipped of Lucys lap but didn't move until your sister pushed you forward always having her hand on your back.

“I think Ona should come too... I don't speak spanish and yours is probably shit...” you mumble tiredly

“I'll let you know that I speak excellent spanish, devils spawn” your sister growled back but you heared that it held no bite

“You're probably not even able to order a coffee” you spoke quietly as you followed the doctor

“I can even order an apple pie on the side” Lucy smirked at you – knowing it would ease your nerves a bit since this is the only thing you always find the most important to learn first.. how to order food - as she pushed you through the door of the trauma room closing the door behind you so your exit was blocked and you couldn't run off.

It went just as Keira promised you and nothing bad happened. The woman palpated your wrist in several different places moved it around a bit and decided to take some x-rays to be sure. After three failed attempts to take some pictures of your wrist without Lucy in the room the nurses begrudgingly allowed your sister back in the room. The moment Lucy stepped in your line of sight you relaxed and held still for the few minutes it took the nurses to take the x-rays. It wasn't really your fault that you panicked when they told you – in spanish of course – what they wanted you to do and you got “slightly” irretated when they just grabbed your arm. At least you didn't bite anyone this time. Now you were seated in the trauma room again waiting for the doctor to come back to review your pictures and tell Lucy what her treatment plan was who then would tell you. The woman looked at the pictures closely before speaking to your sister.

“You have a really bad strain.. nothing broken, just really really badly sprained wrist... you'll get a splint for now and as soon as we're home we'll ice it” your sister told you softly holding your good hand.

“Okay” you said carefully not trusting the process

“You're going to be okay Bubs” Lucy soothed you “just a splint and we're on our way home, okay”

“Do they have cool colors?” you asked quietly

Lucy turned towards the doctor repeating in spanish what you just asked

“Which color do you want?” your sister asked you

“What are the colors of Real Madrid? White and Gold if I'm right, right?” you grinned wide at Lucy who looked betrayed

“Hell to the no” Lucy exclaimed outraged “In no way you enter my home in these colors... what a disgrace”

“White and gold?” you asked the doctor directly but she just looked at you bluntly so you decided to take a different approach

You stood up – slowly so your sister wouldn't think you're trying to bolt – going to the door, opening it and yell from the top of the lungs for Ona. The small Player came sprinting down the hallway coming to a skittering halt in front of you

“Yes?” she said a little panicked

“What's white in spanish?”

“Blanco, why?” the blonde spainard looked at you confused

“And gold?” you smiled at her

“Oro” she looked even more confused than before and it didn't help that Lucy groaned behind you

“Blanco and Oro, sí?” you turned around looking at the doctor grinning from ear to ear

“Sí” the doctor grinned leaving the room

“I can't believe you” Lucy exclaimed throwing her arms up in defeat “using my girlfriend for your pettiness”

“What just happened?” Ona asked getting more confused by the second

“She wants a splint in the colors white and gold...” Lucy groaned

“That are Reals colors” Ona exclaimed shocked

You just sat on the bed grinning widely as the two women in front of you started a discussion in spanish. Soon the doctor came back with a white splint with gold around the edges showing it to you

“Tanto?” she looked at you

“Ehrm... sí?” you answered unsure looking at Ona for help

“Sí muchas gracias” the spainard smiled politely

You got your split fitted to your wrist and with a description for some – apparently very good pain meds courtesy of Ona – you leave the hospital with your entourage of three world class football players.

“See Bitsy... nothing bad happened... I’m proud of you for not bolting” Keira smiled warmly as you crossed the car park.

“Yeah Bubs... I’m actually REALLY proud of you... I know it’s somehow a big deal for you but you took it like a champ” Lucy also smiled widely as she kept her arms around your shoulders keeping you close to her side

“Real colors, I can’t believe it” Ona mumbled next to Lucy “and I helped... what’s next? Sitting in the Real section at the El classíco?”

You laughed at Onas antics “Get used to it, Batlle... you’ll get used and abused from me until there’s nothing left to squeeze out of you” you laugh

“Welcome to the Family”

Now it was Lucy who burst out laughing with Keira following suite also laughing heartwarming. Onas face showed pure horror as you four reached the cars.

#lucy bronze x reader #keira walsh x reader #ona batlle x reader #mapi leon x reader #ingrid engen x reader #alexia putellas x reader #woso image #barca femeni

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