#week 7: location

[artykyn]

Not me crying because I had a really bad beginning of 2023 and signed up for a program that would proceed to make the rest of my 2023 rough and I spent the whole first three months of 2023 trying to pick myself up and motivate myself like "I'm gonna make it through this year if it kills me" and well look at that I made it

[mg549]

hoorayyyyy lvweek

[southislandwren]

I love my fucking apartment!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[chicadventurer]

Balinese Bliss: The Perfect One-Week Itinerary for First Timers

Embark on a captivating 1-week Bali itinerary! Explore pristine beaches, lush rice terraces, and vibrant culture. Dive into thrilling adventures, and indulge in exquisite cuisine. It's time to plan your trip to Bali

[103grandprixwinnerlewishamilton]

I haven't even moved into my new apartment and I'm already pissed at the property management company

[givemethedamnflowers]

.

[austinbutlerslovers]

Feyd Fantasy Part 2

Baroness & Breeder

Label mature 18+

Summary

Feyd is becoming distracted he can't keep his hands off of you. Every chance he gets he sneaks you away to to satisfy his urges, he is addicted to your sex.

With his Baroness giving him physical pleasure as well as mental counsel the vitality begins to return to his deadened eyes.

Every one in the fortress notices his altered mood and behavior. The only one glaring at the change is his uncle. He raised Feyd with enough brutality and greed to become a ruthless tyrant. Now day by day he hears news from his servants of Feyds brutality slipping away.

With the gladiatorial fights fast approaching it is imperative Feyd is his most ruthless to slaughter the warrior slaves and prove the Harkonnen Valor.

The Baron follows cues from one of Feyds servants to locate him when he can not be summoned.

When the Baron finds you together he secretly spies.

Watching a loving Feyd satisfy you on the table in the grand meeting hall instead of attending his fight training enrages the Baron.

He sees his control over Feyd slowly slipping away under your care. With his patience severed he regains control over him by force. He gives Feyd an ultimatum which leaves him no choice but to resubmit himsel to the Barons sadistic will.

Starts off passionate Ends with sexual angst

🚨 Slightly depraved smut 🚨

oral on sleeping female • fingering •clit play•panty tearing • sex on a table • sex in bondage•spanking•sex with a foreign object• orgasm controlled by device• male pleasuring self• male ejaculating on self • male dominance •ownership markings•orgasms •squirting•cream pies.

🫦Smut consultant @burnthheparaphilia

⚔️ Feyd Fantasy Series ⚔️

Part 1•Part 2• Part 3•Part 4•Part 5• Part 6• Part 7

⌛️ Extreme Dune Inaccuracies ⏳ 💝Softie approved (non violent)

I received so many requests that excited me it prolonged the writing 😭 🫶🏻

Feyd Fantasy III will continue the other requests TBA this week 💞 I love to entertain you so much 🥰

Inspo: ⚔️ Multiple anonymous requests combined:

-Feyds weakness for reader  -He keeps her with collar hickies -Soft breast play  -More sci-fi sex toy -Feyd Dom vs her spoiled/opinionated Bene Gesserit. -Feyd in angst -Feyd masturbating  -Squirting in Feyds mouth -Sex while tied up *They are all hot ty for reqs 🤤🙏🏻

Baroness & Breeder

Feyd initially assumed after the wedding ceremony he would only spend the first night with you. After torturing you and defiling you to his gratification he would discard you and return to his pleasure slaves. He had only one objective to complete after all, securing his heir as the future Baron of Giedi Prime.

His preconceived notions perished the night he consummated the marriage. Your kindness and beauty beguiled him. Your ability to make him feel loved and nurtured satisfied what he deeply craved the most.

Feyd formed a physical attachment to you that slowly began to develop into something more. You were terrified of his brutality on your wedding night but slowly began understand his afflictions. Feyd has gone through decades of trauma to render him so psychologically damaged. You begin to nurture him and care for him like he has never known. It radically changes his mentality.

Being a young Bene Gesserit in training arranged to marry the psychotic Feyd Rautha, tested your resolve. But you proved your worth by securing his heir and the future kwisatz Haderach for the Order

Day by day your powers finally begin to awaken. You use them to mend Feyd further. You test your limits at times, changing his temperament with a calming touch or sending him feelings of passion and love in a single kiss

Each time he has sex with you the energy exchange that keeps him in a constant state of obsession and lust with you is entirely out of your control. He dominates you sexually.

As the gray morning light of Giedi Prime fills his bed chamber Feyd awakens from a vivid dream. You are on your knees in the throne room sucking his cock. He groans smiling as he stretches and opens his eyes. He never remembers having dreams before he met you now they are unceasing.

He turns on his side already hard as he watches you sleep. You are resting peacefully even after the rounds he put you through last night.

He desires your sex constantly. Any where at anytime, he does not tire of it. Not merely to satisfy his urges, but to feel the intimacy and passion on the deepest level with you. He can not find sex like this anywhere on demand which is why he is infatuated with you.

He reaches his hand and caresses his thumb down your jaw. He watches you softly breathe, your eyelids shift as you dream. His eyes wander lower, you are completely naked with the sheet resting on your hip.

He pulls it down to expose you. His breathing increases. He becomes aroused just from the sight of your genitalia. He knows you are becoming his weakness.

The infatuation began the moment he fully sheathed himself inside of you on the wedding night. He experienced a pleasure he had never known when he felt your tight walls milk his cock. As if bewitched he has been unable to stop the sexual thoughts forming in his mind and in his dreams about you.

He gently pushes your shoulder guiding you to lay flat on your back. He settles himself between your parted legs. Seeing you aren’t aroused he spits on his fingers and slicks his saliva into your folds. He is needy for you.

He is supposed to be getting ready for fight training, but he can’t concentrate on anything until he has you. He lowers his face between your thighs methodically licking your folds from your entrance to your clit .

You moan in your sleep, and he grabs the flesh of your inner thighs squeezing them before spreading your legs wider apart. He pushes his tongue into you tantalizing your core trying to awaken you.

Only a whimper escapes your lips as you dream. He gives you more, delicately guiding his two fingers inside of you. He pushes them in and pulls them back out in a soft rhythm. You become wetter as he increases his speed. The squishing sounds as he fingers you hardens his cock solid.

You finally awaken from a dream of him having sex with you. He had your wrists and ankles bound and tied to the bed posts.

When you look down and see he’s already pleasuring your folds you moan from the feeling. You look up to his mirror on the ceiling. He has one arm across your pelvis holding you down as his elbow of the other moves back and forth fucking his fingers into you.

He has already worked you up to an orgasm. You grab the back of his neck and pull his face directly into your pussy. He enjoys your dominance groaning as his lips mash into your clit. You begin moaning from the feeling “Feyd I’m so close” you cry out.

He makes his tongue work faster against your clit. You feel the familiar tightness in your core as you moan for him. “Feyd make me cum” you beg. He sucks your clit into his mouth and pumps his fingers furiously inside of you as you orgasm.

He removes his fingers and latches his lips on your entrance. His tongue coaxes your arousal and you squirt into his mouth as you cum. You moan looking down at him the feeling is so pleasurable. He gazes back into your eyes. You watch how they change as he drinks all the liquid released from your orgasm.

The look in his eyes is devious. He rises up from between your legs and hooks his hand around your hip. With his strength he easily flips you in one swift motion onto your belly.

He spreads your legs wide and lines himself up in between. He repeatedly slaps his heavy cock on your cheeks making himself harder preparing to enter you. “Feyd please be gentle” you plead with him. He smirks to himself pressing his cock to your entrance. He is able to be gentle until he orgasms and then he will thrust into you relentlessly until he cums.

Fight Training

The Baron speaks with his advisors in the morning about the upcoming gladiatorial fights around the massive table in the meeting hall. When the assembly concludes he uses his anti gravity device to go with the men of court to watch Feyd in combat training.

He is proud of the accomplishments of his nephew Feyd, he is the Barons favorite over his older brother Glossu Rabban Harkonnen.

After making several public embarrassments to the family name the Baron had Feyds brother Rabban shipped to Arrakis. He gives him one last chance to prove his worth controlling their families most lucrative venture, harvesting spice.

Though ominous and foreboding the Baron is an obesely over weight man. He can no longer walk without the assistance of integrated technology to reduce the burden of his weight. He has an antigravity device implanted into his spine thick tubes connected on two small orbs. The orbs float behind him carrying the chemicals which enable him to defy gravity.

They arrive to the second story of the courtyard in Feyds quarters. When looking down into the training pit the first floor it is deserted. A low murmur begins between his advisors as to the where about of Feyd. Always eager to show off his combat knife skills Feyds absence is jarring.

The Baron immediately goes to Feyds chambers and finds them empty as well. Feyds male Page appears at the entrance hearing the commotion. “Well where is he?” The Baron snaps “You are to be at his side at all times have you forgotten your purpose” The Baron is fuming at the Pages insolence.

The Page trembles knowing the truth and averts his eyes from the Barons Gaze “Spit it out or I cut it out” the Baron says coldly. He hovers into the young man’s personal space. The Page knows both Harkonnen men will readily slit his throat.

He divulges enough to not be dispatched by either “He and his lady are in the great halls of the fortress. I’m not sure where but he wanted to show her the grandeur of Geidi Prime” the Baron squints in anger how idiotic at a time like this with so much at stake to impress his new bride. His scowl deepens because Feyd above all neglected his training. For that he will be severly punished.

The Great Meeting Hall

After touring your fifth great hall with Feyd it is readily apparent his family has amassed a great fortune with power and control over the populous of Geidi Prime.

He pushes open the large black inscribed doors of the meeting hall. There are thrones at opposite ends raised on platforms with stairs. The high floor to ceiling windows display the industrial cityscape. A grand table that can seat fifty people occupies the majority of the floor space. Everything is void of color, only stone marble, black and granite can be seen in the gigantic space.

You walk over to the throne on your left “is this one yours?” Your voice echos in the large hall. Feyd nods, his hands are clasped behind his back. He follows you around the room as you study the furniture and the giant painting of his uncle and then of himself there is a portait of a third Harkonnen male next to Feyd but he interrupts your thoughts before you can ask the identity.

“This is where the most important decisions are made on Geidi Prime, as well as another secret room with the cones of silence” he adds.

“What are cones of silence? “ you ask. The words are somewhat familiar to you.

“They are able to mute all sounds around them, only the two inside can hear each other.”

He answers as he imagines himself fucking you inside of one until he makes you scream in pleasure as loud as he possibly can. He stops walking and stands behind you.

You've paused to study something that caught your eye. His eyes wander your form up to the beauty of your side profile. He can’t help himself as his hand trails down your shoulder. “Do these things in impress you?” He asks. You finally look over your shoulder at him.

You had been mesmerized studying an ancient Harnokken sword on display. It is carved with hieroglyphs that date back centuries. It represents how his entire culture revolves around war and greed . “Yes ” you say addressing his question to be kind. You turn back to looking at the sword again. Deep inside you are longing for your home world.

You remember the beautiful gardens, waterfalls, flowers, and colors of life. You especially miss the large atrium where you would read for hours basking in the afternoon sunlight. The warm sun would kiss your skin as it filtered through the glass dome.

You would lay on a spacious out door ottoman with your fellow Bene Gesserit sisters. Honing your Bene Gesserit skills in the palatial gardens seemed like a dream now.

Feyd sees you lost deep in thought and softly grabs your chin “What would impress you more” he asks with intent. He knows you aren’t fond of the ways on Geidi Prime. You don’t have an answer so you remain quiet.

He knows one thing he has that impresses you on end. He gently pulls you into a kiss. His bottom lip rubs softly with yours as his warm tongue fills your mouth.

He ignites your passions and you place your hands on his jaw. You lean your head with his as you kiss him in return. You want to focus on the carnal and forget your distant memories. He presses himself against you and the heat of his body claims you.

He turns walking you back as he kisses your lips until you are met against the grand meeting hall table. He sits on the edge and moves to the center. He rises up on his knees beckoning you to come.

You sit on the edge and crawl to him. Now both in the center his lips find yours again hungrier than before. You feel his teeth bite into your lower lip and tug. It arouses you as he releases your lip and does it again. Then he envelops his mouth completely onto yours. You feel the hardness of his cock as he presses it into your thigh.

He wants to defile you on this table. He smirks at the high disrespect to the Harkonnen dynasty he is about to commit. Soon this will all belong to him so what does it matter. He pushes you back to lie flat against the stone slab. You gaze up above him to the metallic barbs of the chandelier until his face obscures your view.

His hands start at your knees grabbing the hem of your gown and sliding it to your hips.

His hands clutch one side of your panties tearing them apart making you gasp. He tears the other side and rips them clean from your body.

You watch as he sits back on his heels between your parted legs. He unhooks the clasp of his pants and pulls his thick veiny cock out. The contrast of the black fabric against his large hardened pale cock is striking.

He slaps his pink tip on your clit to edge you.

You wince at each tap of his cock as it makes your bundle of nerves jump. He slides his hand down your thigh to meet your hip and holds you steady. He lines himself up and thrusts into you so roughly you have no time to adjust to the feeling.

Your vision goes hazy as your back arcs from the table. His penetration shocked you senseless. His large cock expands parts of you that you never knew existed. He watches how your face changes from pain to pleasure and back again as you try and relax around the girth of his size.

He wants to spur you on and leans down pressing his chest to yours. He wraps his hand around the back of your neck titling your head so he can speak softly into your ear.

”You are so beautiful to me” he says as his eyes study your side profile. He traces his thumb on your lower lip as you pant for him. “So desperate for my cock, the way you’d let me fuck you on this table you’d let me do anything to you” a moan escapes your lips as he shushes you “Just lay still and look pretty while I fuck you until you stretch open for me” you moan louder at his words.

He begins to roughly thrust inside of you like he wants to posses you. His cock hits your core at a dangerous pace. Your breasts bounce with every push of his hips. He is already becoming lost in pleasure loving the feeling of your tight cunt stretching around his throbbing cock.

You arc your back down flat to steady yourself against his pace. “You…feel too good on my cock” he rasps out as he finally hits the thrust that stretches you to around his size. He stares down into your eyes completely transfixed by the physical connection between your bodies.

Unbeknownst to you both the Baron has finally narrowed his search. After spying into several halls down the corridor his servants waves him over finally finding the one you are in. The Baron peeks through the discreet opening made by one of the nimble servant. There on the middle of the table in the grand meeting hall he sees Feyd fucking you ruthlessly.

Your are constantly being pounded into the stone slab table by his strength. His hips begins slapping harder against you as he thrust between your legs. You hold out until the familiar tightening in your abdomen begins. Your moans start to fill the air.

As your walls clench around him it makes his cock feel incredible inside of you. Your eyes stare up at him, pleading and begging for release.

He sees the neediness in your eyes and brings his hand between your bodies touching your clit. His finger tips are wet by your arousal as he slicks them expertly in firm circles around your bundle of nerves.

It sends shocks though your core that radiate your entire body “YES please Feyd just like that“. You are unable to string together another sentence as you orgasm with him strumming your clit as hard as he can with his cock slamming into your soaked pussy.

His mouth opens feeling your walls milking his cock from your orgasm. He pins your wrists next to your head and plows into you even harder. His pace falters as he orgasms. He gasps as he paints rope after rope of hot cum into your cervix.

He rests down on his elbows laying his full weight on you panting. He kisses your lips passionately with his final slow thrusts. His breath shudders into your mouth as he feels his cock empty inside of you.

He plants soft kisses around your face as he comes down. Each one more tender and loving than the last. His heart feels revived when he’s with you. He cradles your head in his hands staring into your eyes. You smile at him and he smiles back, it isn’t like his sinister ones before, this one is radiant you see the kindness in his eyes.

His uncle spying on the entire moment becomes enraged : not at the fact Feyd missed training, not at the fact he satisfied his carnal urges on the sacred meeting hall table, but at the fact Feyd put a woman’s pleasure before his own. The Baron turns away in disgust his patience is severed.

He raised Feyd with enough brutality and greed to become a ruthless tyrant. Now he sees every aspect of the brutally he instilled in Feyd quickly being stripped away by a female. He never thought this was possible.

He will take out two problems with one swift action: Punishing Feyd by having you removed from his presence entirely.

Family Secrets

You and Feyd take time to have a meal together in the dining hall. He enjoys his meat rare and bloody. You usually avoid looking at his plate due to nausea, but tonight you are having an unusual craving to bite into the blood soaked meat.

He sees you staring at his plate hungrily after you’ve finished your soup. He smiles and cuts you a piece bringing it to your lips. The scent of iron is overwhelming, you readily collect the piece of meat in your mouth.

You chew ravenously before stopping yourself and chewing regularly again. It’s like the color returns to your vision as your body absorbs it. Feyd knows why you are craving it and cuts more pieces for you to eat but remains silent on the topic.

Instead he pries into what things you miss that would entertain you in the fortress. When you mention your love of books he says he will have his Page take you to the fortress library the next day. Feyd knows he will be preoccupied back on schedule with his uncles plans. He will be unable to spend as much time with you.

By the time you and Feyd return to his chambers it is late evening. His Page rushes him and pulls him aside to make him aware of his uncles fury.

“The Baron showed up unexpectedly to observe your fight training today. When he realized you were not here he went into a rage. I believe because it is your birthday as well as the killing of your 100th gladiator which makes him more invested than usual.”

Feyd understands the importance of the events to his Uncle and knows he will be under a more watchful eye.

Feyd joins you in his chamber. You are already on his balcony at the railing staring up at the moon. It is white with gray swirls of clouds all over it, asteroids scatter across the expanse the sky in front of it .

Feyd approaches you and places his hand on your hip joining you together. You look over at him and smile. His pale skin always glows in the moonlight. “I think my uncle is angry with me” he admits. “Why would he be angry?” you ask.

He and his uncle have a complicated family dynamic. Feyd looks up at the moon. “I’m his successor, I must do everything he asks to inherit Giedi Prime and I am beginning to follow my own interests. Lately I have been… preoccupied” he says as he looks over at you smiling.

“Why are you here with him, where are your parents Feyd?” his face turns to panic he quickly looks away to hide it but you clearly saw his reaction. He walks back inside ending the conversation leaving you on the balcony.

You follow him in stunned by his reaction to a simple question. He is already undressing clearly avoiding the topic for sex. He approaches you fully naked his cock semi erect. He pulls your gown off crumpling it to the floor and making you step out of your panties. Before you can ask more questions he’s already kissing you. He’s so quick it’s catching you off guard.

He lowers his face to your neck and licks a column up your throat. He begins to bite his black teeth into your flesh sealing his lips and sucking new bruises to mark you.

The previous collar of bruises only faded yesterday. You whine to him “Feyd please I just had a beautiful gown made to wear to your gladiator event. All of my Bene Gesserit sisters are going to attend. If you mark me it will show” He releases his lips from you and grabs the front of your throat.

He stares intensely into your eyes and you see his psychotic gaze return “Whose throat is this?” He asks. A chill runs up your spine suddenly feeling his dominance “Yours” you muster up. “Who do you belong to?” You feel a bit of defiance rising as a Baroness until he grabs a handful of your pussy.

“You! its yours” you yelp. You want him to return to gentle. “Does my pet need to be trained back into obedience?” He asks rhetorically. “No I’m being good!” You whine.

He looks you over his temper rising thinking of how many little rules you’ve been breaking. “You are becoming a spoiled pet again listen to to how you whine” He collects your arousal on his fingertips and brings them up to you mouth. He makes you suck one of his fingers in to you mouth at a time. You thoroughly suck them from his knuckles to his finger tips. “Good girl” he says voice faltering from arousal. “ If you wine again I will punish you.”

He takes your hand and brings it to his solid cock. You gasp he is so hard. He wraps his hand around yours making you pump his shaft as he goes back to sucking bruises on your throat.

You don’t say another word to deny him his pleasure.

He continues to have you pump his shaft as he completes your collar marking you as his.

He removes your hand from his cock and pulls you to the bed. When your thighs meet the edge he bends you over face down on the mattress. You turn your head to the left.

You watch as he grabs a length of rope from his sex toy table. He stands directly behind you and waits. Knowing what a spoiled pet you are you will complain before he even does anything. “But Feyd I was good” you wine.

You fell right into his trap “Tsk tsk you whine yet again a light punishment will take that right out of your voice.” He loves to tie you up because unlike most when tied you continue to squirm and struggle which excites him.

He places your arms across your lower back in an “X” binding them together . When he’s finished he gives your right bottom cheek a nice slap “Climb on the bed”he commands. You stand and he pushes you back down “On your belly” he snaps.

You lift your legs but without your arms you struggle. You try using your navel to slide but it catches against the sheet. Feyd slaps your cheeks again you cry out “I said climb!” He enjoys watching you spread your self open as you struggle, he becomes aroused “ If you can’t climb up I’m going to fuck you ruthlessly” he says. He strokes his cock watching you from behind.

You really try to push your body up on the bed. Finally you hook your knee and slide on your chest forward and pull your other leg up. You roll onto your back with your hands tied and let out a light laugh because you made it.

Feyd loves nothing more than fucking you as hard as he can. He didn’t think you could make it now he has to be gentle.

You giggle looking into his eyes seeing the defeat. He climbs on top of you and rests back on his heels. Feyd picks you up around your torso and lines you up over his lap.

He slowly pulls you down onto his cock and you moan for him. With your hands tied behind your back you feel helpless as he guides his length inside of you.

Using your tied arms as leverage he forces you to settle on the base of his shaft. You cry out as he stretches your clit around his girth. You rock and clench on him tying to adjust to his size. He is so deep it feels like he is piecing your cervix. He slowly begins taking you up and down his length.

You moan out his name as his large cock squeezes through your tight walls. He works you at a gentle pace until his cock swells stretching you wide, you feel his shaft start throbbing. He wants to cum. He slips his cock all of the way out as you gasp. He places you face down on the bed your pussy is completely in the air.

“Feyd pleas—-“ you stop yourself from whining as he pushes his cock through your entrance “ uhhh Feyd” his cock enters you deliciously. He grabs the top of your cheeks and rails into you with your hands tied behind your back. Your pussy smacks against him as you make depraved moaning sounds. Each thrust that jolts your body sends you closer to an orgasm. You are wound so tight you can’t breathe.

You hear him growl as his hips stutter and you cum in unison. He pounds your walls as they milk his cock. He lets out a choked off moan. He will never get used to how pleasurable the sensation is. A shiver runs down his spine as he slips his cock out of you. He leans back grabbing a knife from the sex toy table. He cuts your hands free.

You let them fall at your sides on the bed as you pant heavily. He fucked every thought out of your head.

He presses a button on the side of his bed that turns all the room lights off filling it with moonlight from the balcony. He gets under the sheet and beckons you to come to him. You wearily climb and plop down on his chest. He hopes he distanced and distracted you enough to never ask about his family again.

Remote Pleasure

The next morning Feyd awakens back into his routine. Looking over at you in bed he sees your back is to him. He has no time to pleasure you, he slowly trails his finger tips down your spine instead and leaves you to rest. His uncle has summoned him to the meeting hall after his fight training.

He enters his decontamination chamber to sanitize his body and then cleanse his mouth. He puts on his chest plate with light fighting gear. He pushes open the large chamber doors closing them quietly behind him to let your rest.

He descends the stairs to the fighting pit. His sparring partner Ghul and his barb men look up and hail his return. Ghul chides him. “Blessings of the ancient ways the great Feyd Rautha is not defiling his new wife and will be able to spar today” he and the barb men collectively laugh and cheer.

“I defeat you without effort every time Ghul this time should be no different, as for my barb men stand around as usual while I do all the fighting what use are you to me?” Feyd smirks taunting them.

Feyd will fight in the arena with his nine barb men at his side. They are skilled fighters sworn to protect his life. They throw and attach hooked barbs into his opponents flesh. They pull them back or weaken the attacks depending on how well it helps Feyd Routha secure a triumphant victory.

Ghul and Feyd prepare to fight with blunted knives to keep his reflexes sharp. They get into formation encircling each other to parry and attack.

You awaken from a dream of Feyd winning the fights holding his knife triumphantly in the air.

You turn and find the bed is empty Feyd has gone. You hear the clanging of knives just beyond the doors. He is below on the first floor in his courtyard training pit. You get out of bed and fill the large stone basin with warm water and bathe your body then rinse your face and mouth.

Your wrap in one of Feyds black fabric robes and explore his room. This is the only time you have been left unattended.

You know he has his knife collection in one of the giant locked display cases but your mind has been burning with curiosity to know what could be in the other.

You stand infront of the mystery case and hold your hand around the lock. You run your finger down the key opening it is a rectangle with 3 prongs.

You look over to his knife case. Dangling out of its lock is a ring with another key of that same description. You rush and remove the keys from the knife case and bring them to the mysterious display case.

The key successfully fits. As it hinges open you are shocked by the contents. Filled top to bottom in neatly organized rows there are; masks, whips, paddles, spiked collars, leashes, cock rings, leather restraints, blind folds and things you cannot even identify yet.

Your eyes grow weary scanning and processing all of the sexually depravity he has participated in. There are vials of liquids and tinctures. You see a familiar glowing color liquid you believe he has used on you before.

Assuming they are all for sex purposes you open the vial and place one drop on your finger. You seal it replacing it back. You take your covered finger and press it on your clit. When it begins pulsing you are certain it is the same one he used to soften you for sex before.

Your ears tingle as you realize the sound of the swords have stopped for quite sometime . You quickly lock the display case and return the key in the lock of the other just the way he had it. You hurry to the basin room and stand against the counter looking in the mirror fixing your hair.

Feyd returns pushing the large chamber doors open just at that moment. You let out a breath you weren’t caught. Your Bene Gesserit intuition is increasing each day.

You watch him remove his chest plate. He comes and clings to you holding you around your waist.

He is sweaty and hot exerted from his training.

Looking in the reflection he stares at the two of you together. Your radiant skin shines in comparison to his pale whiteness.

The toxicity of centuries on Giedi Prime has made all inhabitants hairless and pigment-less. He kisses your temple then strips completely naked to use the decontamination chamber.

You watch as he enters and locks himself inside. He presses his hands to the wall and steps his legs apart. Bursts of steam spray every inch of his body coating him in antimicrobial soap. A ring descends from the ceiling he lifts his hands above his head. The ring lowers spraying each row of his body from head to toe.

He wipes the water From his face as all the instruments lock away. Hot hair fills the shower drying him completely. Feyd steps out form the chamber looking brand new. You are awe struck using only the water basin to bathe.

He walks through his main chamber completely naked. You follow to watch his perfectly muscled figure walk as his cock swings. He presses a button on the wall that releases a hidden panel it ejects a stream of black out fits on a rod. He skims a few before settling on a high collared black one. He presses a button at the end of the rod and they all stack back into the hidden panel.

His muscular white body is stunning you can’t stop staring at his small waist and especially his long cock. As he gets dressed you become aroused as you watch him.

Once he’s fully clothed he comes and kisses your lips to leave. But you hold his hand tugging him to stay. “My uncle has summoned me, I do not know what he intends to meet about but I do not want to upset him.”

He is looks down at you finally noticing you wearing his robe. He smiles as he opens the front to reveal your breasts. He begins softly massaging them in his hands getting distracted as his fingers find your nipples. He pinches and pulls at them sending shocks to your core.

You look into his eyes as you begin to pant. You are getting wet as he plays with your sensitive buds “I want to soak my cock inside of you …but I cannot miss this meeting.” He says as he look back into your pleading eyes. An idea forms in his mind and he smiles mischievously.

“Come” he says taking your hand. He helps you to lie back on the bed. You watch as he goes to his knife cabinet removing the key to open what you can confirm is his kink cabinet. A lump forms in your throat already knowing the contents but everything he does has pleasured you intensely thus far. You secretly anticipate what he will do to you next.

He retrieves a few items and returns to sits on the bed next to you. In his hand is a gold sphere and two rings. One ring has a glowing green dot the other has a white glowing dot “I can not please you now but this will do the job very well until I return” he says with a sinister grin. He motions for you to take off your robe.

Once naked he has you lay on your back with your knees bent, he pushes them apart. He rests the golden sphere at your entrance and pushes it with two fingers until your walls sucks it in. A light sound of pleasure escapes your lips It feels heavy inside as it slowly sinks all the way to your cervix. He quickly puts the gold ring with the white dot on your finger.

“When you orgasm, use the ring on your finger to draw the sphere out or it will start all over.” He smiles wickedly as he says it. Thinking of you actually enduring an immediate second orgasm with this device. He will have to rescue you from a pleasure so great it will render you brainless. You nod smiling back at him you always obey his commands now.

He puts the other golden ring with the glowing green dot on his finger. He softly taps the gold band until the green dot begins blinking and then he waits. When the sphere warms and senses your vitals the green dot on his ring turns solid green.

He rubs around the gold band entirely with his finger and the sphere begins to roll up and down in side of your body like a pushing cock. You toss your head back and deeply moan as your body covers in chills.

The feeling is so new and intense you begin heavily panting losing all your thoughts. The sphere expands you at separate times internally . You begin to moan unending and you want to cum from the pleasure. “Feyd!” Is all you can cry out unable to even think.

His cock twitches. He has set it on the highest setting to get a preview of how the sphere affects your body. He already wants to ejaculate over navel as you cum but he has no time at all. He quickly rolls his thumb on the ring so the intensity is at its lowest level. The sphere slowly spins in place at your cervix. You are able to think again.

He leans over you and kisses your mouth “I will play with you while I am away I will make you cum and I will be ready to make you cum again when I return” you are shivering as you nod.

He kisses your forehead and rubs his thumb against his ring. It begins to roll up and down inside of you slowly. You gasp and close your eyes enjoying the feeling. He departs while you are distracted in bliss. If he looks back he will stay and fuck you.

He pulls the doors closed behind him hearing you begin to softly moan. He shudders from arousal. He looks at his ring it is still solid green. He knows when the dot on his ring turns from green to red you are having an intense orgasm. He has a a look of pure contentment on his face as he heads off to meet his uncle.

When he arrives at the large inscribed black doors of the grand meeting hall it is flanked by two soliders. They open the doors for him, Feyd enters.

His uncle is seated at the head of the enormous meeting table and upon seeing Feyd immediately begins yelling and chastising his recent actions. Instead of sitting at the meeting table Feyd climbs the stairs up to the platform and sits on his throne.

He tunes out his uncles ranting far more enthralled to play with his ring. He puts one leg over the armrest and his elbow on the other. He rests back in his throne and slides his thumb across the gold band increasing the thrusts inside of you to the maximum.

He smiles tilting his head back in wicked satisfaction knowing the sphere is railing your walls with pleasure right now. You have been enduring the highest setting for about 40 seconds and he knows you are falling apart about to cum.

The dot suddenly turns red and his eyes light up knowing at this moment you are having the most intense orgasm in his chamber. When he thinks about how you are squirting all over his bed his cock gets so hard he palms himself trying to calm down but is unable to. His breathing increases as he thinks of making an excuse to depart the meeting and go fuck you. He is charged with too much sexual arousal.

“FEYD RAUTHA HARKONNEN!” His uncles voice suddenly booms at him from the steps leading up to his throne. Feyd quickly sits up realizing he’s missed the entire first half of his uncles tirade, his cock begins to soften as he tries to calm his breathing. His uncle floats from the the bottom of the stairs directly into Feyds face using his anti gravity device

“You are losing your entire focus due to her influence! The gladiatorial fights are paramount! Even though we drug the warriors and poison your blades you must still fight and put on a valiant show. We need the people to think you are worthy of becoming Emperor! ”

Feyds eyes glare into his uncles. Only he and a select few others know this dark secret. Feyd can truly fight and would enjoy shedding blood without the need of weakening his opponents. But his uncle knows Feyds ascension to become Baron is far too valuable to take such a risk.

The Baron saw great potential in Feyd from a young age, preferring him to his older brother Rabban. When Feyds mother was brutally murdered the Baron took stewardship of both boys.

The Baron could clearly see the path ahead of him. One day, a Harkonnen would be Emperor. Not himself, and no spawn of his loins. But a Harkonnen.

The Baron knew it would not be the raging older Glassu Rabban but the younger calculated Feyd Rautha. There was a sharpness and ruthlessness to Feyd that proved to the Baron he was the worthy successor of the Harkonnen dynasty.

Which is why the Baron tells Feyd of his plans to have you removed from his presence. He can not let anything interfere with his grooming of Feyd to become a malevolent Emperor. He wants the marriage political, cold, and lifeless. Feyds baroness and breeder without influence.

“Your wife will be removed from your quarters immediately and you will no longer be permitted see her. She will attend your birthday and the gladiatorial fights for ceremonial purposes of course but after that she will be relocated out of the fortress entirely”

Feyds voice drops almost to a growl as he glares at an uncle in disbelief “How long will she be removed from me?” He asks deliberately. He narrows his eyes and tilts his head to the side with an eerie coldness as he awaits the answer.

“Until she births your heir of course! After that you will never have need to see her again” the Baron says it with a wicked smile.

Feyds black teeth grit so hard they click.

“Your pleasure slaves will be sent to satisfy your lust, soon you will forget about her. Any female can take her place” the Baron says it off handedly as he floats back down to the meeting hall table.

Feyd slowly rises from his throne and balls his hands into fists. He clenches his jaw so hard he has to force his lips from baring his black teeth.

The insatiable desire to finally murder his uncle overwhelms all of his senses as he takes two steps down from his throne. Feyd is ready to take the Baron life. Ripping the thick cable from his anti gravity device and wrapping it around the Barons fat neck, strangling him until his eyes pop out from their orbits. Before he takes another step his rational returns he can not go through with that plan.

He will become Baron but never be honored as Emperor. His people may even revolt against him at the start of his rule. He will upset the great houses and his ascension may even be overturned to his older brother Rabban, after all it wouldn’t be the first family member he’s killed. Feyd desires gaining complete power as emperor above all else it is too deeply engrained in his psyche.

He begins to formulate a way to have both. He will fast track his ascension to the throne by murdering his uncle in a way can not be traced back to him. He will keep his false honor in tact.

The Library

After your remove the sphere from your body with the ring you lay back on the bed panting and shivering. It made your mind shift away from reality, which you did not think was possible. You lost your ability to move after you orgasmed. You lay on the soaked sheets realizing you should will yourself to get up.

You rinse the sphere and place it with the ring on Feyds sex toy table at the foot of his bed.

You use his decontamination chamber to clean your body and get dressed. You push open the main doors to leave the chamber. Feyds Page is waiting as instructed. “Na Baroness I have been ordered to escort you, where would you like to go?” You smile as you answer “The library please.”

After finding the main corridor of the fortress the Page brings you to the large red library doors and bows leaving your presence. He waits near by incase you have further need of his assistance.

You push the large red doors open and step inside. The library is enormous. The only room with color, red designed rugs cover the expanse of the floor. The bookshelves are carved into stone walls reaching all the way to the ceiling. The room is three stories high. There are stairs and balconies to reach the higher levels.

The couches are like lay down beds soft and squishy accented with red pillows. You press your hand into the black fabric seat. It is so spongy and perfect to curl up in. There are orbs you can tap on throughout the space if you need more light.

You take an orb in your hand and it begins to glow. You use it to head to the section marked H. You scan your fingers along the shelves with a mission until you find what you are looking for. Harkonnen Dynasty Lineage.

You have a burning desire to find out about Feyds biological parents and how he came to live with his uncle. You dare not ask Feyd you have tried once and his response was viscerally painful. He is well reserved on topics regarding his upbringing.

Another mystery is discovering the identity of the second male Harkonnen in the portrait of the meeting hall. You take your orb and curl up on a couch. As you sit it conforms to your shape and you smile feeling at ease. You begin to read.

After a few chapters you discover Feyds paternal last name is Rabban. He was born on the Harkonnen planet of Lankiveil. He has an older brother named Glassu Rabban, which means he has surpassed his older brother in being chosen as the next Baron. This aligns with the photo of the second male Harkonnen in the meeting hall.

You read two more chapters until you come to the section of his parents. His father is Abulurd Rabban your eyes suddenly skip ahead startled to read the ruling of Feyds mother Emmi Rabbans death: Matricide. Your eyes widen in fear understanding one of her own sons killed her. Your apprehension grows as you continue to read further.

Suddenly the doors of the library slam open you jump up startled. Two guards enter with the Barons Lord in Waiting “Na Baroness you are being relocated” he says flatly. He and the guards escort you form the library.

Feyds Agony

Feyd leaves the meeting hall and sprints to his chambers. His Page stops him as he regains his breath at the doors before he can go inside “Na Baron they have taken your Baroness away I have witnessed it with my own eyes” Feyd pushes him aside and bursts into his chamber. All of your things are missing, the bed is still un-made from the morning, you are no where in sight.

He still searches the room not ready to face his fears and finally looks to the balcony. He sees through the sheer curtain there is a figure standing at the banister.

He parts the curtains to find his pleasure slave Vîces. A Giedi Prime woman bald and pale. She smiles at him and bends over the railing wearing only a black corset her backside covered in lashes on full display to him. A tray of whips at her side. She has obviously been summoned as a gift from his uncle.

Vîces especially enjoys being afflicted with punishment when Feyd is furious. She has missed his spankings so much she is already aroused seeing the rage in his eyes. He slowly picks up a whip from the tray dragging the coil he twists and untwists it to snap correctly.

He grips the handle tighter before his wrist goes limp and he stops. “Leave my chambers” he says quietly. He feels not rage but another emotion that is far worse in his chest. Warm liquid brims at his eye line, and he touches the corner releasing a tear he stares at his finger tips in disbelief. She is shocked at his uncharacteristic behavior and quickly puts on her robes and leaves.

Feyd climbs back into his bed resting on his stomach he feels defeated. The sheets still smell like you and he presses his face to them remembering only an hour ago you had an orgasm there. He shifts on his back and unclasps his pants freeing his cock. He wants to feel anything over this emotional pain. He separates his shirt open and closes his eyes thinking of you. He remembers the way his cock splits you apart, how he wanted to please you when he returned.

He pulls a bottle of lubricant from his night stand and coats his palm. He begins slowly stroking his hardening length. He groans in pleasure thinking about your face, he thrusts into his hand harder. He remembers the sounds you that escape your lips when he makes you cum. His abs tighten and his cock begins to twitch. He pumps his shaft faster until he feels that all too familiar throbbing. He bites his lower lip as he ejaculates.

He opens his mouth and groans as warm cum spills down his shaft and onto his hand. He feels the aching feeling forming in his chest again but refuses to accept it.

He keeps pumping his shaft with his own cum forcing himself to remain hard. He roars loudly and fucks his hand brutally. The slapping sounds of his fist increases with his pace. Slippery with his own cum he finally bursts more ropes from his cock that leak down his hand and onto his abs. He is gasping chest heaving.

He takes the sheets wiping his abs and cock then strips it from the bed hurling it across the room as he finally yells in agony.

Quarters of the Baroness

You have been locked in your quarters for days. You have two handmaidens that wait upon you at all hours. If the room were less ornate, it would feel like a prison.

On the first day you recive a scroll from the Bene Gesserit confirming their attendance to the gladiatorial fights. They want to see the prospective Feyd Rautha and congratulate you on the announcement of your pregnancy. Twelve sisters will be attending in total.

You smile and almost weep realizing that some form of normalicy will return to this insane planet you’ve come to know as you’re home.

The eve before the gladiatorial fights there is a knock at the door the handmaiden opens it. The seamstress has arrived with her assistants. They are carrying two gowns for you. You know the shimmering blue one is for the Gladiatorial event. You touch the black one with a glistening design “ What is the dress for?” You ask in confusion.

The seamstress has her assistants hold it up. It is a floor length gown with a high thigh slit, backless and sleeveless with a low “V”cut connecting the front to a hood. It is beautiful. “This one is for your Na Barons Birthday celebration after the fights on the same day!” She says with a smile. “ Na Baron Feyd Rautha knew exactly how he wanted you to dress on his birthday” she says as she admires the dress.

She worked tirelessly to Feyds specifications to make it right. “ Feyd made this for me?” She nods with a big grin. You are still trying to get over the fact you didn’t know it was Feyds upcoming birthday. You are shocked to realize you know so little of him.

The seamstress continues “When you wear the black one I have a special modification.”She pulls the dress up revealing the hidden lining. “Because the slit is so high I had to have the snap seam sewn inside to protect your modesty.” She tries not to giggle as she remembers telling Feyd a slit that high will leave you open to exposure. But luckily she is talented enough to fix the design.

She continues “You pull the gown on as usual and snap the buttons together that way from the side no one can have a peek at the Na Baroness” you giggle and thank her. The assistants hang the dresses on display in the closet and the seamstress bids you farewell as they depart.

When you finally settle to finally sleep, there is yet another knock on the door. You hear lots of whispering at the entrance. The handmaiden knocks before entering your room. “There is a gift here but it can only be accepted by your hands.”she says. You sit up and wrap your robe tighter. As you step to the entrance you see Feyds Page bow to you. He is holding a metallic box with a lock, the key in his other hand “I was instructed you are to use it immediately” he says. You take the items and thank him he bows again and quickly leaves .

The handmaidens become nosy knowing it is from Feyd and you are banned from contact. You quickly enter your chambers and lock the door before they can speak.

You sit on the bed to unlock and unhinge the box. Resting inside is the golden sphere and the ring with a white dot. Your heart swells and you smile for the first time in days realizing this is something directly snuck in from Feyd.

You put the gold band with the white glowing dot on your pointer finger. You grab a towel and place it between your legs and relax against your pillows. You place the box on your night stand. You collect the sphere in your hand and spread your legs apart pushing it into your entrance. After it slowly sinks inside you wait. You focus on any signs of movement but the sphere remains still.

When it slowly begins spinning inside you light up in excitement. The ball begins to slowly roll up and down inside of you. You let out a moan and slap your hand over your mouth. The handmaidens are in the next room. The vision of Feyd naked in his bed stroking his cock at the same speed makes you completely give in. You close your eyes and imagine him as you rest back against your pillows.

You quickly lose your thoughts when the sphere speeds up. Your chest begins heaving as you knit you brows. A moan escapes your lips and then another. You wish it was Feyds cock as the orbs thrusts inside of you. Your abs tighten and you relent into an orgasm grabbing a pillow to stifle your moans. You release liquid all over the towel it feels so good you shiver. You clean yourself up and lay back against the pillows.

As you come down your body is frozen in place unable to move, you wonder if Feyd came at the same time making a smile spread across your face. You quickly sit up and retrieve the sphere out of you with your ring finger before it starts all over. You rinse it and return it to its case. After you turn off the lights you climb in bed and finally drift off to sleep.

Tommorow you will see Feyd again in all his glory at the gladiator fights in the arena. You dream of being at his side again.

To Be Continued …

Up Next Part 3: Available Now

Feyd in the Arena | Feyd Birthday Smut | Kinky Smut

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[not-quite-normal]

hi!!!! there been news articles saying that the working conditions of spiderverse were rlly rlly bad to the point of 100 ppl quitting or someting…. sorry to be liek an annoying reporter and b kinda invasive but is this tru D:

the big article that came out, for anyone curious: https://www.vulture.com/2023/06/spider-verse-animation-four-artists-on-making-the-sequel.html

there are some aspects about the article that i don't feel comfortable commenting on, but yes a lot of animators did quit. a lot of it had to do with the issues mentioned in the article, but a lot also left because disney opened a studio in vancouver (where sony imageworks is located) and had to hire an entire crew. i don't blame people for leaving spiderverse to get in on being a part of establishing the disney vancouver studio

i will also say that some of the information going around is incorrect; we did not work 11 hours a day, 7 days a week for over a year. working 7 days a week is illegal, and though some people worked sundays, they were clearly told that they could not work the next saturday if they worked a sunday. we encouraged people to not work ghost hours, and OT was always optional (except for saturday work towards the end, but nobody was punished or anything if they couldn't work a saturday). we also get paid for OT. i was on the movie for over a year but we certainly weren't crunching that whole time. like the article said, we were idle for a long time

it was undeniably a hard movie to work on and with such a large crew, everyone had a wide variety of experiences. the anonymous animators in the article aren't wrong, but i will say that there are people that felt differently, or not as strongly as them. it's a complicated issue that doesn't have a simple solution

i just hope this doesn't tarnish your view of the movie. we worked hard on it and everyone's immense celebration of the animation is making all that hard work very worth it!

[flanaganfilm]

Good day Mr Flanagan. please what does "the rest is confetti" mean to you and in the context it was used in hill house??

Okay, here we go. Buckle up for a long read.

To answer this, I've got to explain a little bit about what was happening and where I was when I sat down to write episode 10 of The Haunting of Hill House.

Hill House was not a fun shoot. The picture above is from very early in production, when I was still chubby and happy.

It was my first foray into television. I was absolutely terrified that I'd mess it up. So I'd opted to direct all of the episodes myself, figuring that - if nothing else - I'd have no one else to blame if it went south.

It was the most grueling professional experience of my career. The shoot was by no means a smooth one, every day was an uphill battle from a budgetary perspective, and between the three giant production entities involved with the production, I spent a lot of time fighting over the creative and logistical elements of the series.

I began losing weight. I was smoking two packs of cigarettes a day.

By the end of the shoot, I had dropped almost 40 lbs.

I was very depressed. Every day was a battle, and for the first time in my career, I wasn't excited to go to work in the morning. We were fighting for basic resources, fighting for the show we wanted, and even fighting amongst ourselves by the end. It was grueling.

We hadn't written all of the scripts when we started production. I believe we had finished through episode 7, but the rest of the scripts had to be finished while we were already shooting.

We'd mapped everything out in the writers room, and I had great support on the other episodes, but I was writing the finale solo. I'd thought I'd be able to juggle it with everything else. I quickly fell behind.

I finally got to the script about halfway through production. I'd work on it between takes at the monitor, and then get home to our tiny rental house in Atlanta, where Kate was waiting with our baby son. (One of the rare bright spots of this shoot came when Kate found out she was pregnant about halfway through production. We even named our daughter Theodora, in honor of her origins.)

I'd typically fall down from exhaustion when I got home, but I had to push through it and work on the script. My weekends were spent shotlisting and prepping for upcoming episodes. We didn't have enough time to stay ahead of prep, so every available day was used for that... I went three months without a single day off at one point.

I'd sit up late staring at the script. I was in a dark, dark place. Overwhelmed, exhausted, and feeling like I lived in an eternal present. Each day bled into the next and it didn't feel like there was an end in sight. That feeling of unreality was heightened because we kept returning to the same sets, same locations, and even the same scenes throughout the 100 shooting-day production. Stepping back into the exact room we had shot in days or weeks or even months ago made the whole thing feel absolutely surreal. Making movies is always an non-linear experience, but this one felt particularly so... it was like the days of our lives were happening to us all out of order.

I remember feeling something like despair creeping into my daily experience on the show. And I remember dwelling on that when I got into the scene work of episode 10.

As I worked through the draft, I recall that despair coloring a lot of what was on the page. My filter was breaking down. There's a monologue at the beginning of the episode where Steven's wife Leigh (played by my dear friend Samantha Sloyan) spews out a torrent of eviscerating insults about Steve's value as a writer. That is just me vomiting onto myself. She was voicing all of my deepest insecurities about myself at the time, and of what I was doing with this series.

She says "Is anything real before you write it, Steve? The things you write about, they're real. Those people are real, their feelings are real, their pain is real - but not to you, is it. Not until you chew it up, digest it, and shit it out onto a piece of paper and even then, it's a pale imitation at best."

This was the mindset I was in for a lot of the shoot. The writing became a reflection of a lot of that turmoil, and I knew who I was referring to in that monologue - I was talking about my family. I was talking about how much of their lives I'd used as building material for this show. I was talking about the fact that I'd lost two loved ones to suicide, and seen what it had done to my mother in particular. And I knew I was using - possibly even exploiting - those people for this series.

There's a lot of despair in this episode. The Red Room, as we conceived it, was a place that would feed upon those emotions. Grief, sadness, loss... those were the real ghosts of our series, and where our characters find themselves at the start of the finale. They're being slowly digested - eaten alive - by those feelings.

So finally, it came time to write Nell's final scene with her siblings. I knew from the outline we'd constructed in the writers room what this was supposed to accomplish - she was supposed to be their salvation. She was supposed to take all of these feelings that we'd been wrestling with and finally provide catharsis... finally say something that would free everyone.

I remember sitting with a blinking cursor for a long time. The Crain siblings had just turned and seen Nellie standing by the door, and suddenly were able to hear her speak. But what should she say? What would I say? What would I want someone to say to me?

What she ultimately says lays bare a lot of what I was thinking about when it comes to grief. It exists outside of linear time, much as I felt I existed at the time. That sense of eternal present, that sense of a nonlinear eternity of moments and memories - it all came out in her speech to her brothers and sisters.

I remember feeling, looking at my insane present and looking back at my past, how strangely overwhelmed I was by memories. That I wasn't experiencing time in a straight line, and hadn't been for a while - for the better part of a year, I'd felt more like I was standing in a whirlwind of moments. "Our moments fall around us like..." Nell said, and I recall sitting back and trying to find the words.

"Rain," for certain, but there was something too uniform about that. The moments of life as I experienced them weren't that orderly, they weren't that small. They didn't fall the same way. Some sailed by, fast and unremarkable, while others lingered in front of me, twisting and stretching. So it was a good word, but not the right word. I left it on the page though.

"Snow" was my next attempt. Better, in that I imagined the snow blowing in the wind, swirling and dancing and feeling more organic. More chaotic. More like life. But for some reason, the word that stuck with me, the word I felt Nell Crain would connect with was...

"Confetti."

And that was because I was thinking not of Victoria Pedretti at this point, but of Violet McGraw.

Violet played Young Nell, and I wondered what she might have said if she experienced time this way. As an adult, Nell was despairing. Nell was overwhelmed. But as a child... there was an innocence to the word. There was a joy to the word.

I imagined moments falling around her, this little girl with the big smile and the wide eyes. Her moments would be colorful. They would be of different shapes and sizes, some falling fast and some falling slow, flipping and turning and dancing in the air, independent of the others. Sparkling, whirling, doing lazy summersaults as they sauntered down to Earth.

I thought of myself, and of the members of my family. I thought of those we'd lost. I realized what I hoped for them, and for us all, in the end... was to look upon that mosaic of experience, that avalanche of days and minutes and moments... and to smile with some of the joy we had as children.

And this, I thought, was something that gave me hope. This gave me a glimpse of some kind of salvation for them. This was also how I hoped my life might seem if I was a ghost - a cascade of color and light and shape and movement, something I could dance in.

So Nell smiled and said... "or confetti."

It stuck with me. The rest of her monologue gets heavy again, and gets to the real point of the show - the point of the whole series, if I'm honest - and that's forgiveness.

I figured the only thing that would let the Crain children out of the Red Room was to be forgiven. I thought of the losses in my own family, and I thought of what I wished for my mother and for my aunts and uncles and cousins and I tried to pour that into her final words.

"I loved you completely, and you loved me the same," she said, "that's all." And this was the point I wanted the most to make. That at the end of our life, if we can say this about each other, the rest doesn't matter. The rest is that rainstorm, or that blizzard, that fell around this one central truth, and maybe built itself in piles around it, to the point we lost sight of it along the way.

And I thought again of that little girl, and almost as an afterthought, wrote "The rest is confetti."

I liked the way it sounded, but I was insecure about the line. I almost took it out, in fact. I remember asking Kate to read the scene and talking about that last line with her. "Is it too cute?" I wondered. She was on the fence. "Depends on how it's acted," she said, and I figured she was right. We could always take it out if it didn't work. The scene could end with "I loved you completely, and you loved me the same. That's all."

Why not shoot it and see what happened.

I turned in the script, we published it quickly so that we could start breaking it down and prepping it. And the next morning I was back on set. I'd deal with episode 10 when it came down the pipe again, sometime in the coming months. We had a lot of shooting to get through before I had to worry about it.

I recall Netflix asking me to cut a lot of that monologue, and I remember them also having questions about the "confetti" line. I pointed out that it didn't cost us any extra to shoot it all, it was only words, and fought to keep the script intact.

Ultimately, they insisted I make a series of cuts on the page. I begrudgingly agreed, but left Nell's speech alone. I made superficial cuts around it, throughout the draft, and even considered changing the font size to fool them into thinking it had gotten shorter (I ultimately was told I wouldn't fool anyone and not to risk starting a war). But Nellie's final goodbye stayed intact.

It must be said - Victoria Pedretti SLAUGHTERED this scene.

By the time we got around to filming it, things had never been worse for the production. There was almost nothing left for a lot of us. Tensions were sky-high, resources had been exhausted completely, and we were all ready to give up.

Filming in the mold-ridden Red Room was depressing, morose, and led to a lot of arguments and unpleasantness. The room itself just felt gross, always, and we were in there for days at a time. The last thing we had to shoot in there was Nellie's goodbye.

Victoria came to set having to push through pages of monologue, and she did so with captivating bravado. I recall being teary-eyed at the monitor watching her work. And when we finally made it to the last line, I watched her deliver it with... a smile. A sincere, innocent, longing, joyful smile. A smile informed by the sadness, grief, and loss of her own situation, of her own life... but a smile that finds forgiveness and grace after all. Pedretti knew how to say the line, and how that word would work.

And as she said it, I knew it would stay in the show.

Over the years, that sentence has become something of a tagline for The Haunting of Hill House. I'm always a bit mystified and touched when I see people approach me with the line on T-shirts, or even tattooed on their bodies.

I started signing it with autographs back in 2020 after enough fans asked me to. Now it's my go-to when I sign anything related to Hill House.

The line, for me, represents a lot of things.

It's about the insane, chaotic, non-linear experience of making that show. It's about trying to find and hold onto joy, even in the grips of despair.

It's about the way the moments of our lives aren't linear, not really, and how we may be unable to understand them as we exist in their flurry. It's about finding hope, innocence and forgiveness in the final reckoning.

And it's about how, outside of our love for each other, the rest is just... well, it's fleeting. It's colorful. It's overwhelming. It's blinding. It's dancing. And, if we look at it right, it's beautiful. But it's also light. It's tinsel. It flits and dances and falls and fades, it's as light as air.

The rest is the stuff that falls around us, and flits away into nothing.

It's the love that stays.

[bringmemyrocks]

Protest/Object to upcoming racist IOF-supporting Matisyahu concerts in the USA!

Not sure how many of you are plugged into local activist circles, but be aware that IOF-supporting Israeli artists are performing all over the USA right now. I'm writing this specifically about Matisyahu, but likely applies to others. Please reblog if you have anything to add.

Look up Ishay Ribo and Matisyahu. They both have tours going on right now. Matisyahu is still touring the USA and just canceled his Chicago performance due to boycott pressure.

Source: https://www.instagram.com/p/C4Q3Ejepwza/

Both Ribo and Matisyahu have had to cancel their concerts due to pressure from protestors and/or venue staff. Ribo only has dates left in Israel but Matisyahu is playing all over the states in the next few weeks.

See if your city is there and see if your local PYM/INN/JVP/PSL/DSA/BDS chapter is aware. (Listing all those orgs since your city may only have one active chapter.)

Either way, you can make calls to venues on your own, even if your local activist chapters decide not to prioritize this.

East coast and Midwest are coming up very soon, west coast coming up in the summer.

Matisyahu tour dates: https://matisyahuworld.com/tour/

Upcoming locations: Detroit (3/9), Cleveland (3/10), Portland ME (3/13), South Burlington VT (3/14), Salisbury MA (3/15), Boston MA (3/16), Washington DC (3/20), Richmond VA (3/21), Philadelphia (3/22), Brooklyn NY (3/28), Avila Beach CA (8/7), Costa Mesa CA (8/8-11), Santa Barbara CA (8/14-15), Chula Vista CA (8/16), Mountain View CA (8/17)

Script below (source: US Palestine Community Network--feel free to add ID as I'm on mobile):

In case this gets passed around: OP is Jewish and opposes Israeli apartheid. Ribo and Matisyahu vocally support the Israeli occupational forces--this is not targeted against Judaism or Jewish artists.

[norrizzandpia]

i think this would suit lando but you being down and lando comes over later at night and takes you the park like two little kids, i can just imagine lando being a big kid at the park lmao

I’m going to need someone to love me like the fictional lando i write abt 24/7

We Can Be Kids For Right Now (LN4)

Summary: When her week has tried to suffocate her, Lando turns up at her door and forces her to remember just how worthy she truly is.

Warnings: mentions of heavy anxiety attacks, anxiety in general, language

Note: a draft bc im wrecked rn from this trip im on im so tried lol… I hate that I have to start saying this but I do not condone the reposting of my work without proper crediting or permission. If you wish to post my works elsewhere, it needs to be ran by me first by messages over Tumblr. If found that you have taken my works without my knowledge, I will report you and get my posts taken down from your blog.

Y/n never truly realized she did it until Lando, but when the man started to get close to her, he brought it to her attention that she so easily isolated herself when she started struggling. Even the smallest inconvenience and she shut down, something that irritated the hell out of Lando. Nevertheless, he loved her and the way she dealt with her emotions was something he knew she just needed to work on.

However, the problem they couldn’t get past was her ability to tell him when she was struggling. There were only so many times when he could see it written all over her face.

His comments urging her to open up to him when she was having a hard time dealing with it on her own bounced around in her head as she clutched her phone in her hands, his contact picture brightening her screen. His smile beamed back at her, almost coaxing her into tapping the call button, but her thumb hesitated. It wasn’t that she was afraid of telling him, it was that she was uncomfortable with her own emotions. Uncomfortable of leaning into them. Growing up, she was never given that ability, her parents not having the full capacity to address them head on. She never thought it truly affected her until Lando. She started realizing that he never gave her a problem to be scared, but she still was.

Her thumb had a mind of its own, though. Thankfully. And the ringing tone met her ears before she could even know what was happening. His picking up happened before she could even begin to think about hanging up the phone.

“Baby!” His cheery voice rang through the quiet room and warmed her tender heart. “What’s up? Why are you up so late? Do you want a sweet treat again?” He giggled, his TV pausing in the background.

She was silent. Her mind raced as she tried to make the split second decision of telling him or not. Though, in her silence, he began formulating an answer.

“Y/n…” He whispered, blankets rustling as she imagined him sitting up on his couch.

“Lan,” She said brokenly, albeit with an effort of trying to sound strong.

Keys rustling and his rushed, “I’m on my way, baby,” were her response.

—

Lando knew where the spare key was. It was one of the first things he asked the location of after they first said I love you. Y/n would always laugh at that memory. What she was expecting after the three words were shared was a small kiss or a hug maybe, but no, he had asked her where her spare key was. When she showed him and he very clearly took a mental note of it, she asked him what was so important about it.

“I’m your boyfriend and we’re in love. I should know where the spare key is, baby.” He had said to her so nonchalantly, as if it was societally normal to have that thought process. She just shook her head at him and took the kiss she wanted for herself. He wasn’t going to do it anyway, too entranced in the image of her spare key under her doormat. He was shenanigans bundled into one person. She loved it.

His rapping on the door pulled her from her memories. She drudged over, taking a deep breath before opening the door. He stood there in his pajamas, puffer coat thrown over haphazardly, and stared at her sympathetically. He shuffled in, arm rounding around her shoulders as he kissed her head, “Hard day?”

She sighed, “Hard week.”

He led her to the couch. The layout of her apartment was memorized in his head. “What happened?”

“I just-” She picked at her fingernails and the anxiety she usually felt when Lando asked about her worries began bubbling up. Maybe it was growth, but she thought he’s already here, isn’t he? Might as well lean on him.

So, she did. Literally and figuratively.

Lando squeezed her body as her side laid on his and she started reliving the low moments of the past few days. “Everything has gone wrong this week. I just can’t seem to win and I can’t make anyone happy.”

Tears filled her eyes and a frown appeared on her face. She cried into his shoulder when he pushed her body further into it.

Lando sat with her for a moment, rubbing her back. “That’s not true, Y/n. You make a lot of people happy. You make me really happy.”

For some reason, his comment shot fear through her body and she pulled from him. Her eyes looked anywhere other than his and the irrational idea of an expectation Lando had set for her that she did not believe in herself to meet took control of whatever plan she had to open up to him.

Lando saw it in her eyes, how distant they got. He knew this was bound to happen. It had been too easy. She had opened up to him without that much restraint and he expected a moment to come where her walls rebuilt themselves.

He just wanted her to let him in.

His hands took her face, “You deserve me. You will not let me down. You could never let me down.” He said, knowing exactly what was running through her mind.

“Y/n, look at me.” He tilted his head to meet her eyes and forced her to keep his stare, “I love you. That will never change.”

She cried harder, “I can’t even open up to you, Lan. I’m not even a good employee at a job I’m overqualified for. Yesterday, I handed in that presentation to my boss that I had been working on for weeks and when I presented it to the board of all fucking people, there was a grammatical error on one of the slides. I had confused ‘your’ and ‘you are’, Lan. It was embarrassing. They laughed and joked about it after. I can’t even fucking do my job. And I upset my mum on Wednesday. I hung up on her during an argument and now she isn’t talking to me. I’m being condemned, Lan. I can’t fucking breathe. My dad’s texting me, telling me how disrespectful I had been, but nobody hears about the parts where she called me an irresponsible adult and ridiculed me for taking a job that didn’t make me that much. Nobody wants to hear my side of the story, the part where she was so grossly unsupportive. Then, I had to cancel on Cameron on Tuesday again because I’m so fucking tired and so fucking busy. She got mad at me and now we’re in this fight because I’ve neglected our friendship. I’m a shit friend, a shit daughter, a shit worker, and it’s so obvious I’m a shit girlfriend. I can’t fucking do anything right.”

By the end of her rant, she was breathless and Lando could see she was talking herself into an anxiety attack. Her hurtful words toward herself needed to be dealt with, but he needed to stop the panic seeping into her skin.

He took her hand and kissed her head, “Come with me, my love.”

She kept crying as he led her to his car, his arm wrapped around her body securely as he whispered words of reassurance in her ear. He reminded her of how strong she was, of how much he loved her and admired her for everything she was. How wrong she was about everything she had convinced herself of.

When he softly laid her in the passenger seat, he kneeled down and kissed her shoulder, brushing her hair off the skin lightly. He looked up at her with deep green eyes filled with safety, “Don’t listen to your mind right now, baby. It’s only telling you lies.”

He lightly closed the door, running around the car to slip into the driver’s seat. When he turned the engine on, his hand settled on her thigh and began rubbing softly. He backed down and drove down the road, toward a small park at the end of her street. It was quick, maybe a minute or two, and Y/n was still crying when they parked, but it subsided momentarily when she saw where they were.

“Why are we at the park?” Lando grabbed her hand and kissed the knuckles.

He laid his cheek down on the back of her palm, murmuring, “Because it’ll be fun to be kids for right now. Not have to think about what you’re going through. We can address that later.”

A sigh of relief left her chest. The moment he had given her an opportunity to run away from it all, even for a few minutes, she almost began to feel as though she would find peace.

He always knew exactly what to do.

She gathered herself, wiping away the tears and smoothing down her hair as Lando walked back to her door, opening it and offering his hand as help for her to get out of the car. She took it. She always would. The cold air hit her body and she shivered. Lando was immediate in offering her his coat.

She shook her head, “No, I’m okay for right now.” She was just now realizing how she hadn’t gone outside in days. The cold air made her feel alive again.

Lando’s hand continued to clutch hers as they took steps toward the large structure. When she let go of his, he tensed, but he relaxed when he saw her wandering over to the slides.

She climbed up the ladder, him following behind, and found herself sat in the entryway of the whirling slide.

“Wait, wait!” Lando yelped before she could push herself down. Her head whipped around to meet his eyes.

She smiled and her body warmed when his found a seat behind her, his body consuming her and his hands wrapping around the low point of her waist. His ear right beside her ear, he kissed the top of the skin, “Now, you can go. We can go down faster, no? Seeing as I go fast for a living.”

His questionable logic made her laugh before he was pushing them off and the two were turning fast around the corner of the yellow tube. Her giggling ensued with the way he jostled them around on purpose to make the slide more exhilarating for two twenty-four year olds. And in the heat of the moment, seeing her hair float in the air and a carefree smile on her face, Lando wished she could see herself the way he did. She was superb, unbelievable. She held the strength and courage of someone so commendable. She was kind even when she had seen things and experienced trauma so young that should’ve, understandably so, made her bitter. She was merciful even when she shouldn’t be and she loved Lando in a way he had only ever dreamed of. The way she treated him, the gentleness she approached him with, was something he knew he could never let go of. She was beautiful in so many other ways than just her appearance. She was deeply beautiful and he wished she could just understand that.

When they reached the end, their bodies stopping abruptly right at the edge, Y/n laid her head back against his shoulder. He kissed her temple, “Fun?”

She nodded with a smile, “Somehow, you did make it faster.”

He shot her a look, as if to question why she didn’t believe him in the first place. He pushed her off him, sprinting to the swings and screaming for her to follow him.

“Lando! Be quiet! You’ll wake up the entire neighborhood!” She whisper-yelled at him, laughing as she ran after him.

He threw himself in the seat and began swinging his legs, no doubt gaining momentum but beckoning her over for help nonetheless.

She stood behind him, bracing herself firmly on the ground as she pushed his heavy body up off the ground. When he would meet her back on the ground, he’d lean back so his back would almost come crashing into her front. It made her laugh.

“Lando!” He couldn’t see her, but he knew how radiant she must’ve been looking. Even in his head, he continued to fall in love with her.

She kept pushing him until her arms got tired and she flopped away from him, onto the ground, in a heap of heavy breaths. When he didn’t feel her small hands on his back anymore, he jumped off the swing and joined her on the ground.

It didn’t matter how cold it was or how dirty it inevitably was, they were together and Y/n’s smile lingered on her pretty face.

Lando’s hand laced with hers in between their bodies as he softly whispered, “You’re not a shit daughter, your parents don’t know what they have and they’re too emotionally immature to realize that. You’re not a shit friend, Cameron knows that, you’re just struggling and that’s okay. You’re not a shit worker, you’re actually heavily valuable to your boss and the people around you. They’ve all told you that. And Y/n, look at me,” She turned her head to meet his meaningful ones, “You are not a shit girlfriend. You are the complete opposite. You are everything I’ve ever wanted and could ever ask for. You have no idea how in love with you I am. It’s even hard for me to understand sometimes. There is no one I have ever loved, love, or will love more than you. You are the most important thing to me, so please stop talking about yourself in this way and believing in something that has never been true.”

Everything about the moment is gentle. From the way his thumb caressed her skin to the enunciation of every word that came from his mouth, he made it clear how much love prospers for her within him every day and every minute.

She turned on her side and took his cheek in her hand, “Thank you for helping me, Lan.”

His hand squeezed her waist, “Of course, my love. You’re my favorite.”

She felt her heart blush, if that’s even possible. Maybe her face was the one blushing? She didn’t know. The way Lando looked at her as if she started life itself made her mind feel fuzzy.

Fuzzy enough to realize he was right. She wasn’t a failure or a horrible person. She was a human who made mistakes and many people loved her in spite of it. Lando being one of them.

He loved her in a way she had always craved. She both needed and wanted him. So did he. They were the beginning and end of everything for the other. It showed well that night as they held each other on the concrete of that park. It showed well because, at one am on a random Saturday, Lando had dropped everything he has doing the moment he heard the anguish in her voice. It showed well because Lando’s clear words made Y/n realize he wanted her and no one else. There was no one else like her, no one to ever replace her. Not that he would ever want that anyway. She was completely unique in the most precious way and maybe… just maybe… she was beginning to realize that too.

[rohirriiim]

District 4 is one of the wealthiest districts of Panem. Its major industry is fishing, and the children are trained for jobs in this industry from a young age. The bread from this district is a salty, fish-shaped loaf, tinted green by seaweed. District 4 is also a Career District, where children illegally train for and subsequently volunteer for the Games. Training in the district’s fishing industry is also useful for tributes, as they have experience in swimming, using nets and tridents, making fishhooks from scratch, and identifying edible sea life. District 4 is located along the Pacific Coast, stretching through modern-day California and Oregon, bordered by District 7 to the North and Districts 1 and 5 to the East. THE HUNGER GAMES APPRECIATION WEEK day six → favorite district

[lavender---sunshine]

I need rideshare apps to have a soft block option where you don't want to give someone a bad review and impact their livelihood but jesus FUCK you NEVER want to get that driver again if you can help it

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.7 to lose someone you love

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader (f)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 7/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 8.5k

a/n. sighhh i'm rly sorry for the wait. and thank you sooo much to the love for the last chapter omg :') this chapter is gojo pov and it's a bit different than the rest, but i still hope you enjoy and that it was worth the wait. if there are typos, they're not typos they're actually 100% intentional and you are the silly one

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 :: ch6 :: ch7 :: ch8 :: ch9 (pending)

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

When Gojo was just four years old, he called for the paramedics for the very first time. 

He had wandered around the house, wide and innocent blue eyes searching the room for the landline in the dim light of the evening, his lip quivering in a pout. His small arm reached up to pet around at the top of his parents’ dresser before his fingers wrapped around the phone. He couldn’t remember what the number was at first, the one his mother always told him to call in case of an emergency, but he remembered he scribbled it down somewhere with red crayon in one of his coloring books. By the time Gojo first realized he needed to call for help, located the landline, looked through all of his little portraits of dinosaurs and spaceships sprawled across the carpet of his room, found those three numbers, and then finally dialed them, his father had already been seizing and shaking on the bathroom floor for longer than twenty-four minutes.  

He was just a child. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know any better.

Gojo spent the remainder of that night hugging his mom in the hospital’s emergency room, his tears soaking through her shirt as she gently rocked him back and forth in her lap while whispering soothing words in his ear. His father lay motionless on the hospital bed before them, eyes shut, and Gojo will never forget the haunting sounds of the machinery that was keeping his father alive. It was a sudden onset seizure, likely stemming from the traumatic brain injury his father had suffered a few years ago, and the prolonged convulsions he experienced on the bathroom floor that night had resulted in severe brain damage. Gojo could still hear the echo of his mother’s silent cry when the doctors informed them that it’s unlikely his father would ever fully recover from this.

No reasonable adult would ever look a four-year-old in the eyes and say if you had called for help sooner or knew what to do, maybe your father would’ve still had the chance to live a long life. Yet, even at his young age, Gojo was aware of the energy in the room, and that explanation was the only truth his mind could grasp onto to make sense of what he had just witnessed.

After two weeks of clinging to life, his father miraculously woke up from his coma and persevered for the sake of his wife and son. Shortly after the incident, he began to have recurring seizures but fought through them each time. Without fail, he made Gojo breakfast in the mornings, even if it meant having to clean up the spilt orange juice on the counter every now and then because of how his hands could not stop trembling. He always walked Gojo to the bus stop, waving him goodbye, despite how troublesome and embarrassing he found it to use his cane. The love he had for his son was so palpable that it eclipsed the bitterness over how his life had ended up because of the blessing it had brought him.

In his prime, Gojo’s father was a renowned soccer player, so incredibly talented at the sport that he left a lasting mark on the way teams strategized, his presence on the field commanding respect, and he was one of the greatest talents the entire college division had ever seen.

He met Gojo’s mother at one of his freshman year games, a pretty lady in the stands that caught his eye from the sight of her laughter among her friends, her radiance drawing him to her from the field, and that’s how their love began. Exactly one year following that day, he stole one of his grandmother’s thrifted rings from her jewelry collection and that was what he used to propose. Gojo’s mother had accepted it with so many tears and so much snot running down her face, and he had never found her more beautiful. They married young and sweet, like most people back then.

During the thrilling semifinal match between Keio Uni, Gojo’s father’s team, and Yokohama Uni during the end of his senior year, spectators witnessed a game that most college soccer enthusiasts would deem was a once-in-a-lifetime watch. Both teams engaged in relentless offense, and Gojo’s father was on his way to shatter the record of the most goals scored in a single championship match within the history of the league, but when he received a call from his wife during a timeout with the most life-altering news he could have ever heard, he abandoned everything on the field that day to go home and be with her. Grainy footage from the televised broadcast still exists online today—the moment he sprinted across the field, confused players glancing in his direction, amidst the uproar of the crowd. She called to let him know she was pregnant. 

No one knew that would be the last game of soccer he would ever play.  

It was a freak accident, a distracted driver behind the wheel of a gray Chevy on a dark and rainy night, veered straight towards Gojo’s parents car to avoid a branch on the road. In a moment that could only be described as his instinct to protect, he quickly swerved his vehicle, taking the brunt of the impact on his side. His family surrounded him at his hospital bedside as they grappled with the news that he would be unable to play the sport ever again due to his traumatic brain injury that would lead to lifelong motor function loss. According to the doctors and police, had he not swerved to shield his wife and unborn child, the outcome would have been far more disastrous. After months of rehabilitation, he regained enough ability to walk and just enough function in his extremities to welcome his newborn son in his arms.

When Gojo was just six years old, two years after witnessing his father’s first seizure, he stumbled upon a dusty, forgotten soccer ball tucked away in the corner of the garage. When he eagerly presented it to his father, excitement gleaming in his eyes, he was only met with a scowl and the demand to discard it, to never bring such things like that to him ever again. His mother protested, ensuing in an argument, and as Gojo lowered his gaze to the ball in his hands, he noticed his father’s faded signature adorned with a heart and message of love for his mother. The ink, once vibrant, now faded with time.

It wasn’t until Gojo turned seven that his father finally relented to teach him more about the sport, knowing it was all his son wanted for his birthday. With determination in his heart, Gojo pleaded for his father’s guidance, eager to kick around a nearly deflated, weathered ball. His father watched his son, expression morphing from reserved and stoic, softening to surprise, then hopeful, and he found himself cheering on his son’s clumsy endeavors on the field despite how many times he tumbled and fell. Because that was his son, his pride and joy, reminiscent of him embracing the sport that he himself had cherished so many years ago. 

As Gojo grew older and excelled at the sport, securing victory after victory in every youth league, his father’s health steadily declined. The recurring seizures caused by the brain damage from his prolonged convulsions on that fateful night exacerbated over the years and started to take an increasing toll on his body. Yet still, he never missed even a single one of his son’s games. Whenever Gojo swiftly sent the ball flying through the net, the first person his eyes would search for on the field was his father, the joy in his eyes being all he cared about in the world. Gojo lived to make his father proud, because it was the only thing that made him feel like he could make up for what little he had done to protect his father that night.

You were just a child. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know any better.

The day following Gojo’s eleventh birthday, his father had his second major seizure, falling into another coma, but this time he never woke up. Two years later, his mother made the tough decision to end his life-support, and then he was gone from their lives. Gojo’s mother was inconsolable, and he knew that his father took a piece of her soul with him to heaven that night. The piece that allowed her to smile. 

one day, you’ll lose someone you love. and everything following will fail to have meaning. 

But why was he remembering all of that now? 

The shrill of Gojo’s alarm clock woke him up from the intrusive memories that were washing through the fore-front of his mind, and he grumbled to himself before whacking at his nightstand haphazardly to shut the thing off. He ran a hand across his face in an attempt to wipe the sleepiness away, features instantly settling into an annoyed scowl as he blinked his eyes open and the filtering sunlight through the windows harassed his vision. 

He laid there for a few seconds, mending to the pounding headache at his temples with his fingers rubbing circles, and then he finally sat up in bed. Blinking at his sheets, the images of last night start to flash through his mind. The heavy music, the dim lighting of the bathroom, the dizzying jealousy, and the taste of you on his tongue–

The memory is supposed to arouse him, and would on any normal day, but because you had left him standing there stunned with no release of his own at all, he instead just feels a pulsing, soul-deep throbbing pain at his crotch that could really only be due to the fact he was left high and dry by you last night. He groans at the sensation, palm pushing down on his lower abdomen to try and relax the torture, which barely helped. It’s either he jerks off or takes a cold shower, and given the former was likely not possible for him right now since his god-forsaken brain decided to push the traumatizing experiences of his childhood to the forefront of his headspace first thing in the morning, meaning it’s unlikely he’ll be able to settle into the memory of you bent over that bathroom counter for him, he decides on the cold shower. And it’s safe to say that today already fucking sucked.

The moment the chill water hits the skin of his body, he recollects the look you had on your face right before you walked out on him. Soft, searching, to him almost seraphic, but you also looked wounded. And something from your anger with him since before he even had you in that bathroom, to the agonizing moment you left him in there by himself, told him he’d messed up big time with you somewhere along the lines. 

He knew he had been a jerk last night. He didn’t really have much of a right to be seethingly possessive of you, but the sight of you kissing another guy had him seeing red and his knuckles turning white. He finds himself clenching his jaw at the unwelcome memory even now. He figured he probably ruined what would’ve otherwise been an enjoyable night for you, and so you decided to get revenge by walking out on him. However, he can’t shake the feeling that things are messy and complicated now, primarily because of him, and he felt like he needed to apologize for dragging you into his weird, confusing emotions.

He gets himself dry and dressed, grateful for the barely sufficient relief he had down south, and sighs as he grabs his phone and taps on your name, thinking about what to say to you, and just settles on typing out Hey, can we talk? and then presses send. He turns the ringer of his phone off, tosses the device onto his bed and then heads out the door. 

Geto was sitting on the couch in the loft, rubbing an ice cube across his forehead as he sprawled on the cushions and let out low and consistent groans to himself. Gojo flopped down on the armchair across from him and assumed a similar position, rubbing at his temples to nurse his own headache. Geto opens an eye to look at him.

“Morning,” he grumbles. 

“I take it I’m not the only one that feels like they’ve been hit by a truck?” Gojo asks.

Geto makes a disgruntled noise and throws his head back on the cushion. “I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. God knows how much I had last night.” He reaches over to the console table in the center for the bottle of Ibuprofen and tosses it to Gojo, who catches it and stares down at the label. “I didn’t really see you drink that much though. Don’t know why you’re hungover.”

Gojo sighs. He wasn’t hungover. His headache was from the fact that had a lot on his mind. Like the feeling of your skin last night. And then the pain of being blue-balled. And also for some reason his father’s death. Very exhausting to juggle those thoughts at once. 

Gojo twists the cap off the bottle of Ibuprofen and pops two pills, drowning them in his mouth with Geto’s glass of water, then runs a frustrated hand through his hair. The man across from him raises an eyebrow.

“You good?” he asks.

“Super peachy,” Gojo replies.

He sighs. “Well, whatever it is, just make sure it doesn’t affect your play today,” Geto warns him, sinking further down into the couch. Gojo lets out an exhale through his nose. Geto usually pushed further for answers whenever he was in a mood, so the fact that he didn’t this time meant that hangover was bad.

“I’m more worried about you. You think you’ll be fine in a few hours?” Gojo asks. Geto just waves his hand in the air in response as he grabs the hand towel on his chest and drags it up over his face, shielding himself from the light of the room.

“I have no choice but to be fine. We have to win this game,” is all he says through muffling cloth.

Gojo nods, resting his elbows on his knees and looking down at the carpet. It was finally the game of the 28th, arguably the second-most important game of the season. If they take home the win, they’re automatically seeded into top sixteen teams, which means they’ll only have to win four more matches after today to take home the championship. But if they lose, they’re seeded to the bottom, and then four turns into a daunting eight. In the history of the league, not a single team has ever lost their pre-seed game and still continued to win the playoff championship. So Geto was right, they have no choice but to win today. Otherwise, they could kiss goodbye to a 12-year UTokyo championship streak.

“Not going for your run?” Geto asks, interrupting his thoughts.

“Nah, not feeling up for it,” Gojo replies.

He clicks his tongue. “Never skip the pre-game ritual, man.”

Gojo groans, knowing that he’s right, and so he reluctantly gets up off the chair and heads back into his room. His phone lay there on the bed, facing down, and he felt so tragically taunted by it that he weighed the options of whether or not he should check if you replied back before his run or after his run. And then he’s wondering why you affect him this much in the first place.

He resolves to check after his run, and only gets one arm through his shirt before his hands betray him and he snatches his phone, eagerly tapping the screen to turn it on. 

He sees your name at the top, where you had just replied barely a minute ago. Sure, we can talk. He blinks at his phone when he sees the polite period at the end of your message, and the proper capitalization, not to mention a vocative comma? He was starting to feel really nervous.

He didn’t care that you had only replied a minute ago, he quickly typed out his response and sent it.

|| 10:35am Gojo: Do you know how to get onto the stadium field today?

He sees you typing, and he’s holding his breath.

|| 10:36am you: yes, I do. I’m going in w the newsletter journalists. Was this what you wanted to talk about?

What did he want to talk to you about exactly? Something like I’m sorry about being an ass last night, totally not cool for me to be that territorial over you, although I can’t say I wouldn’t do it again because seeing you kiss someone other than me kind of made me want to die. Also, I’m sorry for acting like you’re just someone I know, I don’t know why I did it. I guess it’s because I didn’t know if you thought of me as any more than just someone you know either, and that thought was frightening. Did I mention I hated seeing you kiss someone that wasn’t me?

He’s never really been good with words. Or feelings. 

10:37am Gojo: No, it’s not, it’s something else. I’ll come find you on the field before the game starts

He stands there, gaze fixed on his phone screen for the minute-long pause you took to respond, that for him felt like tortured eons, just for you to send-

10:39am you: k

Gojo finishes getting dressed for his run, anxiety brewing in his stomach drearily, and when he heads out the door of the house, the fresh morning air doesn’t help calm him down like it usually does. Of course, as he’s running, his thoughts wander to you. He’s thinking about the smell of your hair–or was it the perfume on your skin?–either way, it was intoxicating. The curve of your neck, that spot that made you whimper– fuck. Think of other things. Like the sound of your voice, soft and sometimes needy, but he enjoys it that way–makes his head spin. Or when you’re being sweet and thanking him for something you shouldn’t, because to him everything about you was a privilege and never a task. Even in the hot spring sun of the late morning, he finds himself missing the warmth from your body, and that look. That goddamn look in your eyes when you’re peering into his like you want him to–

“I’m sure he’s really proud of you.”

His legs stop him on their own, like they know something about the feelings in his chest that he doesn’t, and he’s standing still on the sidewalk of the neighborhood now. Short puffs of air escape his lips from his blood pumping fast through his body, and he could physically hear the sound of you in his head. Intimate enough to where he turns to the side slightly facing his surroundings, like there was no way it was just a memory and you weren’t actually near. He finds himself swallowing hard and having to consciously keep moving forward.

Gojo makes it back to the house, freshens up for the second time today, and gets dressed into his UTokyo soccer uniform with his signature #10 jersey. He leaves with Geto to campus, where all his teammates gather before eventually boarding the bus to the UTokyo stadium field ten minutes away. Coach Yaga yells their ears off in the locker rooms in an attempt to get their plays for today through their brains, and the exhilarating noises from the stands as they make their formal entrance through to the field fills Gojo’s senses, along with the obnoxiously loud music playing as pre-game rituals settle in. Gojo sets his bag down on the bench and joins the others in warm-ups for about fifteen minutes, before catching a chance to sneak away and look for you across the expansive pristine grass.

After lightly jogging around the perimeter of the field for a couple of minutes, he finally spots you, his raised eyebrows now flattening under the fringe of his hair as he relaxes. He didn’t realize he was tensing his shoulders until now. You were just beyond the sidelines near a hydration station, fidgeting with something in your camera case, lips pressed together in a frustrated expression, and he saw your body sulk with the sigh you let out as you must’ve realized you had forgotten something. The corner of his mouth twitches upwards into a slight smile, an unconscious reaction to seeing you look so damn cute from your troubled face decorated with a pout. And then he remembered he had been looking for you, and he had found you, and the only thing to do next was to be near you. 

He ambles up to you, and you only catch sight of him when he’s just a few feet away and finally standing in front of you. He sees your eyes widen slightly, lashes blinking once, twice, and then there’s a blush of color to your cheeks as you fidget with the stadium access badge hung around your neck. He noticed there were grass stains on your jeans over your knees when he looked down.

“Hey,” Gojo greets you over the loud music playing on the field.

“Hi,” he sees you say, and he realizes he can barely hear you.

“Let’s go over there,” Gojo yells, jerking his head over to the side.

He leads you over to an area tucked near the east side entrance, a corner slightly underneath one of the sectioned stands where the loud cheers of the stadium somehow reflected off less. It was about as private or silent of a place that the two of you could manage to have a conversation on a soccer field before a match, if you could just ignore the dressed up school mascots rehearsing their walk-ins and walk-outs through the entryway.

You take a few steps backwards until your back hits the concrete slab wall, and he’s in front of you as he watches you study him for a second, taking in the sight of his uniform, before your eyes finally meet his.

“Are you ready to take your photos today?” he asks you, poorly attempting to make small talk despite the images of you with him in that bathroom last night flashing through his memory. Now was seriously not the time to be turned on.

You nod, and respond “I am”, giving him absolutely nothing to work with.

He sighs. “Listen, about last night, I just wanted to apologize. For dragging you into that bathroom with me, although you did ask me to-” He sees you narrow your eyes and cross your arms across your chest. “Sorry,” he sighs, “Seriously, I just…I don’t know what got over me then.”

“You don’t know? Or you just don’t want to tell me?” you prod at him. He briefly considers pretending he doesn’t hear your question over the sound of the stadium, but he knows he wouldn't get away with that, not with the way you’re looking at him like he’s just one more fuck-up away from making you storm off.

He looks at your lips. “I guess the only thing I know is that I didn’t like seeing you kiss someone else.”

You shake your head and close your eyes. “I know you didn’t, Satoru. Otherwise last night wouldn’t have happened. What I’m asking is why.”

He’s struggling now, searching his head for answers, like he’s fighting for his life on a test that he didn’t study for. When he looks down, he notices your foot has been tapping impatiently. And when he looks back up, there’s that wounded expression from last night again. “I don’t know,” is all he can offer.

You uncross your arms from your chest, lips parting slightly as your eyebrows pinch upwards with a disheartened look. He sees your gaze shift slowly across the features of his face, searching, and he wonders if you can see something within him that he can’t. The thought terrifies him. “Fine. It’s my turn to speak.”

He nods slowly. He wasn’t sure what you wanted to say to him. He imagined you would just cuss him out with a few choice words for being a raging asshole last night and then you’d be on your merry way. But he senses sincerity in your voice. Not that he was phenomenal at reading people, though.

He watches as you clench and unclench your fists at your sides nervously, then twiddle with the strap of your camera, then tuck your hair behind your ears, then blink rapidly as you look up at him, then worry your bottom lip between your teeth, then open your mouth to speak just to close it again.

“Do you need me here for any of this?” he says in an attempt at a joke to ease you, but when all you give him is a glare, he’s fearful enough to be serious again.

“I like you.”

He blinks. “Thanks? I like you, too.”

“No, no. I like you as in I have feelings for you,” you clarify. Gojo’s eyes widen at the confession, and he stands up straighter. 

“Oh,” he finally replies when he realizes he hasn’t said anything yet, “I…I wouldn’t have guessed that.” Holy shit, if that was how you felt, then he really has been a raging asshole this entire time. 

You roll your eyes. “I know. You’re a hopelessly dense, menacingly flirty, sleazy frat dude college athlete,” you sigh, “But I still like you. Unfortunately, tragically, annoyingly, much to my dismay, against my better judgment,”

“Okay, I get it-”

“I think it started that night you stayed with me when I was stranded with my flat,” you confess suddenly, your chest rising a little bit faster, and his expression softened. “I just really appreciated you being there for me.”

His voice is gentle when he speaks next. “You don’t have to thank me for that. I would’ve been there if it happened ten times over,” he pauses, “although I’d seriously question your ability to drive if it happened that many times.”

“And I think it started when you walked me out to the practice field for the first time, and you told me you cared about my dreams,” you say with a slight step forwards to him, unable to acknowledge his words at all, as if there was a script you needed to stick to that was the only thing keeping you from falling apart in front of him. 

He finds himself instinctively leaning towards you, close enough to where he notices you’re wearing a different perfume today. “But that was before the night of your car incident,” he reminds you.

“I know,” you nod, and there’s that look in your eyes that he loves, “and I also think it started that first night we met and you looked sad when I said we weren’t friends.”

Gojo’s eyes widen, his heart skipping a beat in his chest, and he finds himself breathing shallowly as he listens to your words. “y/n…I think you’re working backwards here.”

“I’m trying to say I’ve had feelings for you this whole time,” you say to him, “they were tiny at first, I didn’t really see them, but now they’re too big for me to hold all by myself.”

Gojo nods slowly, and he already knows what you’re going to ask of him next.

“I like you in a way that makes me want more from you,” you admit, eyes steadily on his with resolve, “I don’t want to be just someone you know, or someone only for sex-”

“y/n-” he tries to interrupt you.

“And I certainly won’t be someone that sits around to wait for a guy if he doesn’t want me back,” you say, but there’s an apprehensive look in your eyes when you speak next, “so, I need you to answer to my feelings.”

Gojo blinks at you, his heart beating fast in his chest from your confession, and he feels like with every testing second that he fails to answer you back, you slip further and further away from him.

He knew he had affection for you. He always wanted to be close to you, even when he already was, as if he couldn’t get close enough. He wanted to take care of you, and see that softness in your expression when he knew you felt safe and happy. He couldn’t stand the thought of you with someone else, and it took him this damn long to realize as he stood in front of you that he had no interest in being with anyone else either. So then why did his chest feel so tight? And why was he struggling so much to give you an answer?

one day, you’ll lose someone you love. and everything following will fail to have meaning. 

Gojo’s eyes widened as the memories of his life flashed through his mind, a chill running down his spine as they knock the wind from his lungs and he feels that same sense of dread that has been following him like a ghost since that day when he was just four years old, standing in the hallway, wondering why his father was having a nightmare on the bathroom floor when he should’ve known it was something far worse than that.

Gojo blames himself for so much that had gone wrong in his life. And he should know that it’s not his fault, but all of his grief was greedy to breathe and live, desperate to find a reason for why he had to lose someone he loved, and his grief found a home in all of his guilt.

And he was terrified to lose someone close to him again. Even if he decided to see what could become with you, even if he thought for a moment that he was allowed to feel any sort of happiness with you, the thought of falling short and failing frightened him. He was so tired of adding to a long list of regrets in his life. And he knew he wasn’t what you needed— what you deserved.

“I…” he starts, swallowing the lump in his throat, “I’m sorry, but I don’t feel the same way about you.” He knows he sounds convincing enough from the way the light in your eyes dimmed, anticipation faltering and replaced with a sad expression over your features. He needs to take a shaky breath to continue speaking. “It seems I’ve led you on in a lot of ways, and I apologize for that. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen anymore.”

You’re silent for a long moment, twiddling with your fingers as you look up at him. “I see…” you say, and when he sees your lower lip quiver slightly, he feels sick. His instinct is to reach out for you, pull you closer to him, but he knows that’s not a luxury you would allow for him, and he knew it wasn’t one he deserved either. 

Your voice is trembling when you speak next. “I appreciate you letting me know. And you don’t have to worry about not leading me on anymore, because this will be the last time you see me.”

His entire body runs rigid. 

“Why?” It’s a stupid question, but he asks it anyway.

“So I can get over you.”

All he can do is stand with the feeling of a chill in his bones.

“And I ask that you’ll respect my space while I do,” you add on at the end.

He’s silent for a long moment, then lets out the breath he was holding in. “I will,” he says, the promise leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

There’s a moment where you both just look at each other, as though the two of you were trying to hold onto the moment, but you’re the one to break out of it first, and he’s the one to wish it would’ve lasted a little longer.

“I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” The words already sounded like goodbye. “I’ll make sure you look nice in your photos,” you say with a small smile, holding your camera up slightly, “and good luck today.” 

He wonders if he’ll regret this moment.

“Thanks.”

He steps aside so that you can walk past him and back out to the field. Gojo takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly, and relaxes his shoulders. Well, that was intense. Definitely not the direction he thought that conversation was going to go in at all, but that’s fine. He handled it fine. Totally fine. Things were going to be totally fine. He just has to play the match now.

The first step he takes back towards the field, he feels his uneasiness return, with the second step the feeling of his heart beating becomes violent in his head, with the third step he swears he can’t feel the tips of his fingers, with the fourth he feels severely nauseous, and with his fifth- was he seriously about to throw up?

He barely makes it back onto the grassy field cutting across the obstacles of people at the sidelines, using all his strength to not double over before he reaches a table and grabs one of the water bottles. He sees a group of men, all dressed in suits and loitering near the team manager’s station, perk their heads up at the sight of him and he’s groaning internally. The last thing he wanted to do right now was talk to any damn recruiters, but he sees one of them bold enough to approach him in his periphery. He sighs, taking one last gulp of water, and tries to stand up straight and look like he wasn’t going insane.

“Hi, I’m Jousuke Tsuda, recruiter for Tokyo Metropolitan’s national league team,” he says and stretches his hand out for Gojo to shake. The man looked aged, with thick creases to his forehead that could only mean he’s witnessed a hell of a lot of life and he has the soul to prove it.

Gojo’s eyes widen at the mention of Tokyo-Met’s team, and he grabs onto the man’s hand in as firm of a handshake he could manage. “Gojo Satoru.”

The man laughs. It’s deep with a slight crackle. “I know your name, son. Every recruiter in the country does. You’ve got a lot of eyes on you right now.”

“I’m flattered.”

The man raises an eyebrow at him. “Surely you feel pressured.”

Gojo only hums to himself.

The man glances at his watch. “I know the match starts in a few, but if I could have a moment of your time. Take a walk with me?”

“Sure.”

The two trail down the line of the field. “I’ll get straight to the point, kid. Tokyo-Met’s really keen on scouting you for the national league following your graduation,” he says.

Gojo feels like he should be excited about that news, actually, he should be ecstatic and groveling at this man’s feet, but instead he just feels empty and hollow inside. 

“Forget the fact that you’ll be playing in the nation’s most revered team,” the man continues, “but compensation is high, too.” He pulls his phone out from his front suit pocket, tapping away at his calculator app, then turns the screen towards Gojo. Holy shit. “I’m talking about a 350 million yen per year contract here. I could advocate for higher based on how well you perform the rest of the season.”

“I…I don’t know what to say,” Gojo responds.

The man is silent for a second then sighs. When the two of them reach a somewhat secluded bench near the corner of the field, he sits down on it and expects Gojo to do the same, to which he complies.

“You know, I’m used to much more enthusiastic reactions from players that hear this kind of news, although they’re usually ecstatic for barely a hundred million a year compared to what I’ve just offered you,” the man says.

“I guess it’s the pressure,” Gojo says to him, “it’s got my emotional response circuit all fried up, y’know?” He was pulling excuses out of his ass. 

A small hmph noise is heard beside him before he sees the man pulling a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his slacks. “I know your father has left big shoes to fill, kid. I can’t imagine the fear of feeling like you’ll fail, or the anxiety of an injury taking you out any time you’re on the field, not wanting history to repeat itself.”

Gojo’s eye twitches and he narrows his eyes at the man seated beside him. “My dad got injured in a car accident, not while playing the sport.”

“I know,” he responds, finally pulling a cigarette out of the pack, holding it between his two fingers as he rests his wrist on his knee. “The story touched the hearts of everyone in Tokyo, and the entire soccer community in general. I remember reading about it in the school newspaper. Back in the day when they still printed those things out.” Gojo’s surprised, and he’s only given a sideways smile before the man continues. “I knew your father, went to the same college as him.”

“I don’t think he ever mentioned you,” Gojo says.

He lets out a hearty laugh. “He despised me. I was a money-hungry finance major that saw a huge opportunity in mediator sports recruitment agencies. Figured if I could sign a player like your father to my start-up, I’d be set for life. He was a smart man not to sign, regardless of how things turned out.” He shakes his head musingly. “I gave up after that and got a real job. You’ll find a lot of your hopes and dreams die in college.”

“I see,” Gojo says.

The man leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and looks over with a serious expression on his face. “Tell me, son, what does this sport mean to you? Why have you dedicated your entire life to playing it?”

Gojo only gives him a cursory glance.

“Is it the fame and attention? The pride? The thrill? The prospect of earning millions and then retiring at thirty, and you get to watch your wife and kids playing in your grand estate’s pool on a sunny summer Sunday while you’re swirling around a glass of ‘90s scotch in your hand?” he asks, tone derisive but luring. “Or does it mean something more to you?”

Gojo looks down at his hands that were clenched tightly into fists. He relaxes them so that his fingers fall open weakly and his palms face the sky. He remembers the feeling of being a kid, the smell of freshly cut grass consuming his senses, the sight of bruises on his knees from how many times he fell on the field chasing after the ball, and the admiration in his father’s eyes every single time he stood back up. “It’s a chance to prove myself,” he finally says.

“Prove yourself of what?” the man pushes.

“That I’m capable of greatness,” Gojo admits, “like my father.”

The man nods slowly in acknowledgment. “Yes, your father was a great man. But not because of how he played the game. He was a great man because he knew which sacrifices were truly important.”

Gojo looks at him wearily. “Are you trying to tell a player you’re attempting to recruit that the sport isn’t important?”

He shakes his head, looking straight ahead. “No, it’s important. But it’s the meaning you give to your life outside of it that gives it importance.”

Gojo raises an eyebrow at him, not really sure what to make of the cryptic sentiment.

The man claps his hands together and stands up. “Alright, I’m sure that’s all the time you’ve got for me. Think about my offer, and if any other recruiters approach you with better ones, just know I’ll push for higher.” He hands Gojo his business card and brings his cigarette to mouth, balancing it between his lips. “Reach out if you have any questions.”

Gojo looks down at the card, his finger tracing the edge of it as he studies the shimmering gold lettering. “Why not just hit me with your best offer and leave? Why bother having this kind of conversation with me?”

The man pulls his cigarette from his mouth, pinching it between his two fingers once again. “We’ve all got regrets we want to make right, kid,” he says. And with his hands in his pockets, he walks away. 

Gojo watches the man as he makes his way down the sidelines back to the cluster of men in suits. When he hears the referee whistle, he shoves the business card in the pocket of his uniform shorts, and makes his way towards the center of the sidelines.

His teammates instantly come up to him with optimistic smiles and encouraging pats on his chest and back, trying to keep the energy high to manifest a win for today, but Gojo just feels exhausted and like he’s drowning. He has so many thoughts swimming around in his head, he can’t even begin to explain, and he just wants someone to see through him at this moment. 

The teams stand on the field for the national anthem, and then Osaka Uni’s team disperses while UTokyo’s alma mater plays. Coach Yaga yells for all the players to huddle before the coin toss and reminds them of their plays for the afternoon.

Nanami pulls his sweatbands onto his wrists, Geto pulls his hair back up into a bun, Chosou pulls tightly on the straps of his goalie gloves, and Gojo pushes his hair up off his forehead to snap his headband onto his face. He looks around to his other teammates and that sense of pride he feels to be a part of this team swells dully despite his emotions.

UTokyo wins the coin toss, choosing to kick, and Gojo finds his place in the center of the field. The crowd is already cheering preemptively, their pride in their home team evident in the passion of the filled stands, and Gojo peers across the large expanse of the field as he rests his foot on top of the soccer ball. It’s a scene he’s seen a hundred times in his life, but the sight is daunting today. He takes his foot off the ball when he hears the referee signal the start of the match with a short piercing shrill of his whistle, and the second Gojo draws his leg back and his foot makes contact with the ball, sending it flying forward, he can already feel that something feels very off.

Every single time he had the ball in his possession, his footwork felt heavy and delayed. His teammates had set up more than three chances for him to score, and he shot wide every single time. The crowd’s cheers started to diminish, and he could feel the growing discontent and exasperation from all eyes on the field. Ten minutes before halftime, they were down 1-0, and stakes were starting to feel high. 

One of his teammates passes a ball right to Gojo’s favored foot, the crowd instantly erupting with noise and stands to their feet as Gojo shuffles the ball past the penalty line, through Osaka’s defenders, eyes locked with the perfect opportunity to strike. This was good, he had his rhythm back, even if just for a moment, and he can see it, clear as day–the trajectory to the goal. With the feeling of slick sweat on his face and determination in his veins, he withdraws his leg back to kick the ball. The world went silent in his head, the only sound being the beating of his heart, and-

“this will be the last time you see me.”

When he recalls your voice, everything moves in slow-motion as his ankle slips slightly on the grass from his moment of hesitation, and then the ball is swiftly stolen by an opposing team player and maneuvered past him. 

“Fuck!” he hisses, immediately turning his head around as he helplessly watches the opponents players move with fervor in pursuit of another goal. The crowd hushed in horror as Osaka passed the ball through UTokyo’s defense, swiftly steadying down the side and sending the ball flying through Chosou’s outstretched arms. 2-0, and the lead ref calls for halftime. 

“Dude,” one of his teammates comes up to him as they walk back towards the benches and throws his arms up in the air, “what the hell is wrong with you today?”

“Seriously, man, not a single goal in the first half? You know how many times I’ve set up a shot for you?" another one of his teammates chimes in, nudging Gojo’s shoulder way harder than he’d usually warrant, and shortly after, a blaming fest begins among the players.

“Enough!” Coach Yaga yells out. All of the players quiet down and look at him, some grudgingly gulping down water while others just try to regain their breath. Gojo’s arms just hang at his sides in defeat. “We’re pushing everything on offense now, we can’t afford to miss any more shots,” Coach Yaga says, his fear of losing the match evident too despite his rough tone, “Satoru, I’m switching you out. Dai, take his place.”

“What?” Gojo asks incredulously, charging forward so he’s in front of the older man. “I’m not getting benched.”

“You will, because I say so,” Coach Yaga says sternly, “you’re distracted, boy. I can see it all over your face.”

“I’m n-”

“Just sit down,” Coach Yaga lets out a disgruntled noise. “When players are distracted, they get injured. Have faith in your teammates.”

“Coach,” Gojo asks again, this time almost pleading. He hardly ever questioned Coach Yaga’s calls, he had a great deal of respect for the man. But something within him just absolutely refused to get benched today.

Coach Yaga stares at him for a long moment, and it’s only when one of the refs chirps their whistle that he finally exhales and gives him a reluctant jerk of his head towards the field.

Geto sets up the perfect shot for Nanami to sweep for a kick that barely lands through the goalie’s lunge for the ball, and then on the next play, secures another goal himself. The score is tied, 2-2, with eight minutes left on the clock. Gojo manages to steal the ball on a defensive play, and it’s only really a stroke of luck that he manages in one solid pass the entire game, straight to Geto’s foot, crowd roaring, and he watches his best friend shoot and sink within the last minute and a half of the game. 

3-2. UTokyo’s win. 

Gojo sighs, exhausted as he makes his way to the bench, crouching down and zipping open his duffle bag. Spirits are low among the team despite the excitement from the crowd over their win because of how hauntingly close the loss felt during the last moments of the match, disinterested in celebrating at all as they meekly dispersed across the field. Gojo knew he was going to get a massive yelling-to from Coach Yaga and he could feel the searing disappointment from his teammates for not carrying the game more. This was just a bare win, could’ve gone either way, and his performance today wasn’t a good look for any recruiters either. He felt so emotionally and physically drained from this entire day, and he wasn’t sure how the hell he could feel any better.

Shuffling through his bag for a water bottle, his knuckles hit something cold and metallic-sounding tucked away inside. He hums to himself curiously before grabbing it and pulling it out.

strawberry vanilla soda.

Hm. This wasn’t the one you gave him a couple of days ago. He already drank that one. Did you sneak this into his bag? His brow furrows, and he stares at the sparkling smiling sloth on the label. When he turns the can in his hand, he sees a little note messily scribbled in black ink. 

good luck today! u got this :) ur a star

His eyes widened.

And putting his heart through a shredder would’ve hurt less than when he realizes what an idiot he’s been this entire time.

He’s instantly searching the field, peering through crowds of people, mascots, banners, flags, for any sight of you. He’s not sure how or why he goes in the direction that he does, but deep down it’s because he knows you like taking millions of pictures of flowers, and the west side exit has endless blooms of them. And so when he runs out that way, cleats tapping against the concrete pavement that leads out into the courtyard in the front of the stadium, and spots you standing there, he finally lets out the breath of air he feels like he’s been holding in his chest all day.

You’re aiming your camera at teal and orange petals scattered across the decorative florals lining the raised concrete planters, then pull it down from your face and twiddle with the settings, tilting your head to the side. You then pluck at one of the blooms that was spilling over the edges, bringing it to the tip of your nose curiously. And he just watches, chest heaving from the urgency that he rushed to get to you, heart aching from the desperation of wanting to be near you. He wanted to ask you how you were feeling, he wanted to know how your pictures came along, he wanted to know what you were doing after this, and he wanted you to be with him. But most importantly, he wanted to make sure that this wasn’t the last time he ever saw you again. 

It isn’t until a minute after that you seem keen on his presence too, and you swiftly turn your head in his direction, surprised. “Satoru?” you say. He wonders if he’ll melt. He wonders if those ice-cold barriers he’s built over the years could thaw just from the way you say his name.

But when he takes a step forward, you take a step back. And he halts. The expression on your face was unfamiliar to him. Once soft, curious, trusting. Now you looked at him like you were guarding something, keeping it safe from him, and he no longer had the right to intrude. And then he realizes the hell he’s put you through all this time.

He regrets pushing you away.

“I know I said I’d respect the fact that you want space,” he says through bated breath, “but I…I just can’t stand the thought of never seeing you again.”

You’re solemn when you look at him, reading the plea in his eyes, and then slowly shake your head. He feels like he can’t breathe. 

“I’m sorry. Goodbye.”

And then you walk out of his life.

a/n. thank you for reading! i have a few more author notes that explain a few things that i couldn't really find a way to fit into the chapter organically, but wanted to address before moving on, if you're curious you can find them here. hope to see you in the next one! pls lemme know if i missed any tags i'm sorry if i did :')

➸ take me to chapter eight!

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[married-to-google-translater]

Hello! Could i ask for hcs of leona, idia and malleus with a s/o who enjoys love bites? (receiving and giving!) Thank you!!!

Idia Shourd

You and Idia would have been dating for a while.

You would spend a lot of time together.

And usually the relationship also includes "physical" parts.

Although with Idia it can take time to get to this stage.

But sometimes the wait is worth it.

It would be good to start small with Idia.

But it would get serious quickly.

Even if the beginning is a bit difficult.

Idia would have a minor heart attack just bringing it up.

He would know what you're talking about.

Idia has spent enough time on the internet.

You would definitely be the first to give love bites.

Iidia would have really blushed.

And his hair would go completely wild.

He would have to calm down for a while before he would give you a love bite.

Preferably somewhere that would be more hidden.

After that, this will become a habit between you.

Maybe quickly before school or you can surprise Idia during a game session.

But be careful.

Because he will bite you back.

Leona Kingscholar

This should already be part of the relationship at the beginning.

Certainly already during the first week.

Leona loves you and she sees no reason to hide it.

Leona would really enjoy this.

Usually Leona would bite right after waking up.

As the two of you "nap" somewhere quiet.

Or Leona takes a nap and you act as his pillow.

And suddenly you get the feeling that Leona is biting your neck.

It would be a way to show love and devotion.

He would do it gently on purpose.

Leona knows his power.

He really doesn't want to break his sweet herbivore.

He would think the face you made would be cute.

And Leona can't help but grin after giving the bites.

It would be difficult to predict the location of the bites.

Sometimes they can be more hidden and sometimes completely visible.

It just depends on his mood.

Leona would rather give bites…

But she won't complain if you want to give bites back.

As long as you don't wake him up with your bites.

Malleus Draconia

You and Malleus would have dated for a month.

And Malleus jealousy would be a "mild" problem.

He would like to be with you 24/7.

And when he can't Malleus gets restless.

He's afraid that when he's gone someone will steal you from him.

So this would be a good way to prevent it from happening…

At least in his opinion.

Okay well this was your idea originally.

Malleus would be very inexperienced with physical affection.

He would never have thought of anything like this.

But when you bring it up, Malleus doesn't object.

He has long wanted to be more physical with you.

But he hasn't really known how to bring it up.

This would be a great opportunity.

Malleus would leave love bites visible.

Somewhere you couldn't hide them.

Sebek would have a heart attack.

And of course Malleus would want you to do the same for him.

Usually you would cuddle at the same time.

Malleus would sometimes imitate the bite marks you made with his finger.

At the same time, he would smile happily.

Finally he would have someone who would love him.

[lovifie]

Stalker!141 x Reader

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Captain Price is constantly wanting to improve the task force's abilities. And stalking an enemy is a valuable skill.

That's why he “randomly” selected you, a simple recruit located on the same base as them. And gave the task force the mission to stalk you, to learn as much as possible of you, your routine, who do you talk with, where do you train, and everything that could be valuable if you were an enemy.

You are not, but you are a woman in the 21st century, and (sadly) you have been instilled every single trick and advice to be safe from men.

The difference between them simply co-living around you, in contrast with living having their focus on you, raises every hair in your body.

At first, you disregard this feeling. They always bring a certain aura around them, it must be your imagination. Why would the task force 141 be following you?

But fast forward a couple of weeks and you are losing your mind. Comprehensible, having 4 (because of course, Price joined) of the best soldiers following you 24/7 would make everyone lose their mind.

At first, it was supposed to be just for a couple of days. But now their interest is peaked, like a rabbit in front of hound dogs. Because why are you so good? They have been following for weeks and they still know almost nothing.

But you can't do it anymore, and at night, when you are doing the sixth tour around the barracks' halls to try and lose him you reach your limit. You turn a quick corner and when he does the same he comes face to face with you, looking at him like an angry mom.

“Can you stop following me?! Seriously, do you not get tired? Cause I certainly am!”

But it only works as adding water to an oil fire, because now that the seal between you and them is broken, now they have no shame to be more shameless with you.

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