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muntitled · 9 months

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𝙃𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙚𝙬𝙞𝙛𝙚'𝙨 𝙇𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩

Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

Summary: Pregnancy definitely sucks but you take your complaints too far, and soon, you're left with the laborious task of making it up to Satoru

Warnings: Domestic Fluff, Petty!Satoru, Tantrums, God Complex (It's Satoru), Humor, Smut (+18) Minors DNI, Praise Kink, Make up sex, Pregnant sex, Office Sex, Touch starved!reader, DDLG, Daddy Kink, Corruption Kink, Eye Contact, Dirty Talk, Cervix fucking, Lactation kink, Dom/Sub undertones, Subspace, Overstimulation

♡ please excuse me, I'm ovulating

"Is there any way I could park closer? So that your journey might be a quicker one?" Despite his voice dripping with nothing but kindness, you find your eyes narrowing at the taxi driver and his close cropped, black hair.

"I may look fat but my limbs are in perfect working conditions, Sir, I assure you," Admittedly, a low blow. The driver reels back, muttering his profuse apologies which immediately softens your resolve.

It is wholeheartedly unfair. The driver could not anticipate the way in which his words would grate at your wavering kindness. He is essentially blameless and perhaps even considerate in his line of questioning. He didn't have any intentions of insulting you.

After all, It was not his fault that you were currently sporting a nasty bump because Satoru decided to inject you with his release until finally he succeeded and you were burdened with the weight of his spawned and this baby, you feel, is a heavy one. One that has your steel emotions melting into guilt, like the deserted tar under the bright summer sun.

"Just here, should be fine," The taxi driver had gotten an impressive tip to make up for your rudeness and you scooted your way out. Soon, you were on the pavement that led into the forest framed by an impressively maintained torii. The driver eyed the gateway solemnly as you shrugged your backpack on, subconsciously grateful for the sundress combatting the summer heat.

"Have a nice day!" You attempt to soften your voice, as soft as you can make it given your current condition.

Condition.

The thought - that word- has you flinching as you make your way up the mountain. The very reason for this journey playing off in your mind's eye with a freshness.

'Condition?' Satoru, had said when you let the word slip the previous evening. The taxi driver had not been the only one affected by your foul mood but last night you were particularly nasty. Gojo's spawn was on a mission to drain you of all your energy, leeching off your nutrients but expecting you to eat at every hour. The Little Monster was testing your patience and it wasn't even born yet.

'You're having my baby,' Gojo had said, 'Not suffering from a disease.' As you both prepared for bed, Gojo, exchanging his black blindfold for the fluffy pink sleep mask which he had invariably stolen from you, while you wobbled your heaviness into bed.

"Trust me, Satoru, when I say that you honestly could have fooled me.' You scoffed, "This baby is making me sick." It had been more and more difficult to disguise the true nature of pregnancy, especially while everyone around lived their lives so carefree and un-pregnant- but you still should not have said what you said. And Satoru was 100% justified in assuming a tantrum.

You were forced to go to bed, with an ice cold, Satoru, refusing to curl up beside you like he usually did. Instead of brushing up behind you, ready to allay that constant state of need that you were haunted by, Gojo stole his warmth away from you. You went to bed without the sensation of his cock grinding into your ass and his long slender fingers seeking to touch anything and everything until he riled himself up enough to fuck you to sleep. When you thought it couldn't possibly get any worse, Satoru had already disappeared in the morning. He had already gone off to Jujutsu Tech, vehemently ignoring any text message you sent.

And here you were, lumbering your way through the thicket of evergreens that seemed to be growing on top of each other. You would not be surprised if these trees ended up being cursed as well. They invariably seemed to swallow the horizon, doing a stellar job at concealing the beauty of the institution inside.

"Your father hates me," The tiny human incubating inside of you is your only bit of company, and so, you decide to entertain the Little Monster, the closer you get to Jujutsu High. "You're a little demon, but he is too." Your heavy breathing fills the quiet air, "But I still love him and his demonic ways so that really means that I love you too," Unknowingly, your hand had begun to cup the underside of your swollen belly and staying there for the duration of the walk, until the very first towers began to peek from within the evergreens and the sound of jovial laughter reaches your ears.

"Woah-" Itadori is the first person you see once you emerge from the thicket, huffing and puffing with the Wright of your guilt carrying you forward. "Are you... supposed to be here?"

"I'm pregnant, Yuuji, not handicapped-" You began, steadily approaching the temple steps where he and a silent Megumi sat idly. "Gojo, where is he?"

"In his office by now." Replied Itadori, "Hey… did you seriously walk up the mountain just to get some from Gojo-" his crass statement is cut short by Megumi's elbow buried in Yuuji's side and you silently thank the dark haired boy as you drift into the temple.

Despite it all, Itadori's statement may have held a sliver of truth. The walk up the mountain had been a perilous one, admittedly one of your less than thorough ideas, but it also got you the opportunity to see Jujutsu High after 6 difficult months of house arrest. Your innate need to teach and help young sorcerers grow and develop their talents was being made dormant, yet somehow, just being in this place, breathing its air, was revitalising you. You could even swear the Little Monster made a happy little kick against your abdomen. You begin to wonder with shocking excitement what cursed technique this baby would be born with - it's a thought that occupies your mind as you maneuver the relaxing halls of the temple.

The positive energy coursing through your bloodstream only doubles once his door reveals itself at the end of the hall. Your nerves are immediately electrified with a violent current as you pull back the door, enough to slip inside. You could not go 24 hours without Satoru annoying you, and that was apparent. If that made you weak, then so be it.

"Satoru." Your voice comes out quieter than expected as you pull the door shut and turn to face the man seated behind his desk. His seat is reclined towards an open window casting an enchanting breeze, enough to lightly ruffle his pale, white locks. Arms support the back of his head, and his legs are perched on the desk. You can not see his eyes behind his rimless blue tinted shades. Your arrival announces rouses him, and immediately, you can tell you've disturbed him from a nap. Perhaps he did not get much sleep last night either…

"Hmm," Is the only sound he is able to make in the stretched silence, readjusting his position, striving to appear disinterested, "Didn't know they allowed murderers into Jujutsu Tech-"

"'Toru, you've probably killed more people than me,'' You say with a small smile as you venture to close the distance between you too. "And how am I a murderer?"

"You forcing yourself up this mountain makes me think you're trying to kill my baby." You can tell that he is still vehemently angry at you but his head ticks slightly to the side as you make your way behind his desk, pushing his feet off before easing onto it so you can sit opposite him.

"I brought salami sticks and a chicken sandwich," You ease the backpack off your shoulders, ignoring Satoru's head lazily draped on his hand. "You didn't eat breakfast this morning and I know your skinny ass is dying of hunger. You may not look like you eat alot but you and our baby are trying to kill me-"

To that, he had obviously chosen to respond with a crude and petty, 'That'd be my baby, you're referring to. Last I checked, to you, it's a cancer.'

"Satoru, I don't know what you want me to say-"

"I've got a pretty good idea of what I don't want you to say."

Your gaze lowers to your lap as your legs swing above the ground. It is always difficult seeing someone as jovial as Gojo, assume such a cold exterior, especially when it's not in his inherent nature.

"I really wish I can say I didn't mean it, 'Toru but I'm fucking drained," You laugh darkly, "I'm fat and ugly and I can't exercise because this baby hates when I move in a way it doesn't like - even getting up here fucking sucked, but the thought of seeing you kinda helped. Not to mention that fucking housewife next door and her perky tits and her tiny waist, and her non-fat ass-"

"Hey," Throughout the course of your hormonal rant, Satoru has felt himself slide his chair closer to you, until your mnees were directly in front of him. His arms fence you in, while he sat on the edge of his seat, "I love your fat ass, please don't ever diss her again."

His words have you laughing despite the thunderous emotions that had overtaken you just a moment ago. That may have been one of Satoru's many superpowers- allaying the darkened clouds with unexpected sunshine.

"Not to mention my feet hurt constantly, I'm horny all the time and I just wanna feel normal in my own skin. But I neglected your happiness in my own self pity and that's wrong and I'm sorry."

'Please fuck me and never, ever be mad at me again,' is what you would have liked to tack on at the end of that apology but you already felt as if you got enough words out. Truthfully, you really were sitting with a well of need between your legs- the warmth between your stomach only compounding given Gojo's proximity, which only becomes worse as he rises from his seat and slots himself between your legs. You shiver at the feeling of just having him near you.

"Does 'horny all the time' include' right now?" Another violent shiver wracked through your spine as Satoru eases a finger underneath your chin, raising your hooded eyes to his concealed ones. All you can do is nod as your fingers curl around the edge of the desk while your breathing picks up its pace.

"And you're never going to be a mean brat ever again," you're utterly mesmerised by Satoru's pillowy, pink lips crafting every word, so much so that you're unaware of his other hand rubbing along your exposed thigh.

"I'm going to have to hear words, baby." He teases lightly,"I'm going to have to hear that you were wrong," You're not sure what it is about the sing-song voice that has you slipping deep into subspace- perhaps it's the slight condescension sprinkled in with the tone one would use to scold a child. It completely breaks you every time.

Your lips curl downward into an involuntary pout as you say "I'll never be a mean brat to you ever again, Satoru-" a gasp races through your throat as his fingers brush against the damp fabric of your clothed, needy cunt. He is rubbing lightly, almost diabolically slow. Your eyebrows curve into needy crescents as you strive to open your legs wider, hoping his fingers might venture deeper.

"I might forgive you," his broad shoulders are hunched so his lips can reach your ears, "If you stop calling me Satoru and say what you really wanna say,"

He was baiting you for his own rush of pleasure shooting all his blood straight to his hardened cock. Satoru's pants were straining as you realised he needed you to slip into subspace as much as you did. His hand was brushing lightly at the fabric against your clit, but that is as far as he was willing to go. Your breathing is erratic as you attempt to thrust your hips into his hand but your stomach stops you from achieving a lot.

"I need you to fuck me, Daddy," The words drenched with the neediness in your voice is borderline pornopgraphic and it rips a wavering groan from within Gojo's chest.

"You're such a needy little slut, aren't you?" Satoru says now swimming in domspace, while he removes his hand from between your legs to quickly rid you of your sweat-drenched sundress.

"I need you so bad," you admit with an aching whimper as the soft wind rushes over your sensitive nipples. The second he sees them, Gojo's hands are clamped around your pillowy; swollen breasts, squeezing and prodding like a virgin who's never seen tits before.

"Fuck, baby, look at what you do to me," He releases a hoarse laugh as he clamps his other hand around your wrist, forcing your palm around his hard cock straining his pants. "Look at what the fuck you do to me," The both of you release a chorus of moans into the air- you, because his fingers were playing a dangerous game with your leaking nipples and Satoru, because he cannot refrain from grinding into your hand.

His glasses fog as he bends his head to watch beads of milk grow on the tips of your nipple before sliding down your torso with every squeeze.

"When did this start happening?" he asks through clenched teeth before rushing to exclaim, "You're so fucking hot- Fuck!"

"Last night- I wanted to tell you but-" You're immediately silenced by Satoru's lips crashing onto yours while he crowds you, pushing you down onto your back while the sound of his belt buckle echoes in the room. His mouth is absolutely restless as his tongue forces its way inside; eager to push itself against your tongue until you both are kissing each other with a tangle of spit. Your hands immediately find his hair and you pull at the strands as Satoru pulls you to the edge of his desk, pressing the tip of his cock against your entrance.

"You're such a soaked little girl, baby," his voice still condescending and airy, but it riles you up further until you push your hips towards him. "Does Daddy get you this worked up?"

"Yes! Only Daddy can make me feel this way-Just- Please!" Your cries are slotted in the base of your throat as the head of his cock begins to stretch your tense and tight walls. Without thinking, Satoru eases himself deeper, his hips unable to move at a steady pace now that he feels how wet and ready you are for him.

"You're taking your Daddy's cock like a good little girl, baby," his words have you arching off his desk while your eyes fight to stay open. You don't close them because Satoru likes to look at you when he fucks you and so, you fight your way back, until your eyes are pouring into his behind those dazzling shades. It takes everything in him not to cum on the spot, and his cock twitches inside you as he begins to set the pace.

"Oh fuck- Just look at you, Princess." You were fucking magnificent - skin glistening with sweat with a belly swollen with his seed. The image alone affects him more than he initially thought it would. Satoru had strived to get you pregnant because he knew he wanted you to birth his legacy, but the sight of your body naturally shifting to incubate his seed scarmbles the very workings of his brain If you weren't careful, you were going to stay pregnant, every other term.

"You're doing such a good job, Princess. Do you know how fucking beautiful you look?" you are utterly deranged with need, feeling all your sensibilities slip out of you as you're fighting to take even more of him impossibly deeper. His shades hide the true nature of his hooded, fucked out eyes. He's not sure what it is about it, but your eyes on him, watching him pound his cock into your slippery, tight pussy, has him rutting into you with desperation. He loves holding your attention in your most depraved moments - watching you stare up at him like he's a God while he's corrupting every sliver of your cute disposition.

He's pounding against your cervix now and it has your moans bleeding into whorish screams. All the while, Satoru does not silence you. He does not clamp his hand around your mouth, instead he affirms quite the opposite. "If you keep squeezing my cock like that I'm going to make you take my cum." That sentence alone has you slipping into your orgasm. Your back arches off the table and Satoru leans over and latches his lips onto your breasts. He moans around your nipple, as his hand rubs your clit with immense rapidity, in tandem with his stuttering hips.

"I'm gonna fucking cum inside you, baby, Tell me you want me to cum inside you," his voice cracks into a desperate whimper, "P-please," Your limbs are shivering as Satoru fucks you quicker, the sensation bleeding into overstimulation as you watch him fall apart over you. He looks utterly gorgeous. The shades may hide his eyes, but his slacked jaw reveals how utterly destroyed he is, with a trail of spit and milk running down his chin. "Fucking tell me!"

"Please cum inside me, Daddy." You pant, looking at him dead in the eyes, "I need your cum inside me," his grip on the desk fumbles and his movements immediately melt into sloppy thrusts and heavy pants.

"Oh fuck- I'm cumming, baby. Fuck, M'gonna fucking breed you-" just as you're forced to endure another orgasm, Satoru's cum explodes inside of you, ripping groan from your hoarse throat.

Gojo is absolutely spent as he eases his cock out of you, rubbing light circles on your thighs, utterly transfixed with the sight of his milky cum slipping out of your cunt.

"I hope I get you pregnant with twins, next time,"

"Get the fuck off of me Satoru." You say feigning anger, which is attested by the smile threatening to blossom over your face. Despite your lightened mood, you still feel monumentally terrible for making him feel bad about your impending parenthood.

"I'm sorry I've been complaining about my house arrest."

"Maternity leave," He corrects with a sigh.

"Same difference," you roll your eyes before noticing his unimpressed and stoic visage. "Only kidding, only kidding."

Thx for reading ♡

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cherry-leclerc · 3 months

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i hate you. i hate you? ☆ cs55

genre: humor, fluff, love confessions, childhood friends to enemies/rivals to lovers (damn, tongue twister), maybe a bit angsty (don't worry too much about it though, lol), flashbacks that add to a tiny slow-burn

word count: 3.5k

The dwindling friendship that comes crashing down when you get offered the opportunity of a lifetime. Leading to a bumpy road with your best friend.

req!... i swear that when i put angst ITS NOT BAD. anyways, enjoy, anons!

Me encantaría formar parte del equipo, you muse whimsically, pigtails flying against the winter breeze. Sería un sueño hecho realidad.

Despite being young, you knew you were different— came from a divergent background compared to those around you. Your family definitely didn’t have the resources to fulfill your dream to kart or race professionally. You partially blame your brothers for getting you into the sport.

Si. Lo sería, a particular Spaniard, agrees. You smile. Your parents share a pitiful glance before sitting you down. It wasn’t going to happen, not because they didn’t want to but simply because they couldn’t afford such an expensive hobby that would probably kick you in the butt.

That’s where your first guardian angel appeared. Carlos Sainz Sr. Better known as your best friend's father. Without a doubt, he offers to sponsor you, for he grew keen on having you around, enjoying time by the pool with his two girls and shy son.

Was there a way you could ever thank him? No, not really— nothing would ever cover all he’s ever done for you, but you’d make sure to try your best to find a way. Even if it took you a lifetime.

“You’ve known her for a lifetime! Probably five, for all we know!” Lando yelps, running a hand through his curls. “You can’t just call it quits on your friendship just like…” He snaps his fingers.

Carlos shrugs. He fills up a styrofoam cup of coffee, silently offering one to his moody friend. The Brit rolls his colorful eyes. You’re making a mistake, he presses. It’s the Spaniards turn to grow serious.

“Por favor—she should have thought about that before she stole my seat.”

That, you did. It wasn’t an easy decision to make. It could have never been, even if you had been warned. But suddenly you were getting an opportunity, the kind you only ever dreamt of. Carlos would be fine, he was a man who would eventually have a pile of teams interested in keeping him around. You, on the other hand, were surprised that anyone was even intrigued in having you form a part of their F1 team, much less— Ferrari.

This was it, and you had to grab at the opportunity. You just never imagined losing a friend along the way.

Why would you even consider accepting? You flinch and he’s looking as if he regrets it, so you give him the benefit of the doubt.

I know this isn’t what we were expecting, but think of it this way. I'd be coming in 2025 and you would already be too busy preparing to join Audi! It’ll work out. You’re still doing that, right? You knew he was, he had been so excited and told you as soon as he found out. Audi was in his blood.

He runs a large hand through his tangled hair, sighing. Still. You have to say no. You can’t do that to me. It’d be embarrassing.

Your shoulders drop an inch. Why? Because you’re being bought out or because a woman is keeping your seat? His silence is enough for your heart to break and for your mind to be made up.

I’m signing.

There is indignation, and then there is you.

“You are such a—argh!” Pounding your fists against the locked door, you reach out to briskly twist the knob, trying your best to get out of the cramped room. The world was spinning, and you could feel a migraine rolling in strongly, but you swore—swore—you would kill him as soon as you got your hands on him.

The morning had started off fairly simple. Show up, run a few tests on the stimulator, get to know a few of the mechanics you’d be working with, and finally, sign your contract. You had waited longer than intended, due to minor changes you had suggested, so you were extremely ready to get it done. This was supposed to be your day.

That is until the grumpy Spaniard pushed you, locked you in, and ran off before you had a chance to register what was going on. Fred had been adamant—show up on time. The next time he would be available would not be until three weeks, and that was ridiculously long if anyone were to ask. Carlos knew that.

Charles hums slowly, munching on a pack of M&M's when he hears the spine-chilling scream you let out, wood vibrating as you punch angrily. Hurrying over, he unlocks it from the outside, surprised by your appearance. Your hair is tussled, face is blotchy, vein throbbing. It’s definitely a sight to say the least. He mentions something about —he went that way— and —think about what you’re going to do— but you’re off before you settle with any of it.

The twists and turns make your head hurt, practically seeing red before you come to a halt. Smiling sophisticatedly, Carlos is sat, legs crossed, fingers pointing to his watch. No. “News for you, my dear friend; Fred just left.” The Spaniard winces playfully, already making his way out the door. “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Charles was right. You should have thought about what you would do. Jumping onto his large back, your flimsy hands dig into the forest he calls hair, and pull. He screeches, swaying from side to side as he hurriedly tries to disconnect your legs from around his waist. Let go, he groans harder when you pinch his arm.

“Why? Why did you do this—any of this?” At this point you’re kicking and screaming, panting, heaving. “Is it really that difficult to accept it? You lost. I’m in, you’re out.”

“At least we know she’s a fighter.”

Coming to a sudden stop, your eyes flicker to the familiar voice, instantly burning up. Fred taps his foot gingerly against the white tiles, an amused Monegasque standing right behind him. Jumping off of the sulky brunette, you begin to shake your head in disbelief, pointing towards the exit. “N-no…you’re supposed to be gone. He…” Then it hits you. This was a fucking set up.

“While I’m evenly impressed by your toughness, I will say, I think we should put a hold on signing.” Your stomach drops. The older man quickly waves his hands in dismissal, grinning apologetically. “We still want you! Nothing has changed, but I think it’s for the best that you fix things with Carlos before doing so. It’ll be good for you two.” With that, he bows his head, and strolls away, heading for the airport.

“I’m out too,” Charles whispered, slowly stepping back. “Fill me in on what happens, though!”

As soon as your breath evens out—and Carlos creates a safe distance between you two—you let out a deranged chuckle. He almost cringes at the cold sound, but keeps his chin up high. “You did this all on purpose?” It’s a question but comes out more like a confirmation, which in a way, it was. Shutting your eyes, you tilt your head with a ghostly smile. “You knew he hadn’t left and let me make a fool out of myself. Why would you do that?” you grit, orbs laser focused on him as if you could light him up into flames if you really set your mind to it.

“Why would I not?” he stubbornly spits back.

“You asshole, I’m just trying to make your dad proud.”

A pinch of guilt dives deep into his veins as he watches you stomp down the hallway, mindlessly tugging at his heart.

I say we let him burn, Ana pitches the idea, laying flat on her bed as you scoff with a knowing smile.

Does it make me a bad person if I don’t disagree with you?

She sits up, eyeing where you calmly paint down on a canvas. She squints her eyes. “What even is that?” Holding your art with pride, you shoot a sheepish smile. Nice, huh? The Spaniard’s youngest sister giggles, nose scrunching up at the dark sight. “I’m confused—is he supposed to look like that?”

You curl an analytical brow, shooting a quick snarl. “I think it’s pretty good. And yes. He’s supposed to be getting run over by my future car. What a sight.” You dramatically swoon.

Ana drops her stare, focusing instead with a teasing curl gripping the corner of her lips. “Remember when instead of plotting his death, you’d be fantasizing about a life with him? God, I could still remember all the hearts—the glitter.” She shudders, faintly recalling the mess in her room, which led to Reyes giving you both a good scolding, but not before winking at a red-faced you.

Looking away feverishly, you shake your head, picking up the flimsy paint brush once again, never once bothering to make eye contact with her. “I was young. Stupid as shit. I can’t even remember what I loved about him.”

“Liked,” she corrects you.

You cough. “Right. Liked.”

If the Spaniard took the time to sit down, roll through a philosophical journey, wonder where things might have changed for him—it would have saved him enduring a puddle of dreadfulness at this very moment.

Ana’s wedding. The first of his sisters who would get married. It was a bittersweet day, and not just because she was finally leaving the family nest. “Who is she…” he can hear himself ask. Almost demand. The brunette smirks, slightly pleased.

“My best friend. You’re nemesis,” she jokes.

Carlos growls slowly, lightly pinching her cheek as she yelps. “With. You know what I mean.”

“Lalo. She met him a few weeks ago. Very nice guy.” A beat. “Please don’t ruin my wedding.”

But he’s not even listening. Brown eyes follow to where you stand straight, arms crossed over your body like a shield. He always knew you’d been self-conscious, but never understood why. You were stunning. Lavender dress hugs your curves beautifully. A trace of honey fills any area you fall into. Your hair is nicely pinned up, allowing him to enjoy your silky skin.

And it seems like Lalo too.

Rubbing a large hand against his smooth jaw—which was only neat since Reyes had hounded him to fix his appearance for his sister’s big day—he smoothly made his way over. Rupert warns the Spanirad with his eyes, but Carlos scoffs. Did everyone think he had something up his sleeve?

“Enjoying yourselves?”

Mid-sip, your face freezes, doe-eyes flickering between Lalo, then Carlos. Then Carlos, then Lalo. God, when did the room begin to boil? Your voice gets caught in your throat, to make matters worse. Carlos’ personal trainer pity’s you for a split second, deciding to help out. “The drinks are stellar, mate. We’ve been hogging the bar for so long at this point.”

The brown eyed boy studies your so-called date, faking a cold smile. “You don’t say…Carlos, by the way,” he says, extending his arm out. “Remind me of your name again, sorry, she’s just never mentioned you before. At all, really. I apologize.”

“That’s okay, we only just met a few weeks ago. We’re taking it slow.” We’re. The word itself makes the 29 year old fear he might puke right then and there. “Eduardo, but you can call me Lalo. Huge fan.”

“Mines or hers?” Carlos bitterly questions, thick lips forming a straight line. Lalo awkwardly clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth, pulling away and leaning in to hold you close.

“Guess it’s my turn to apologize now. Hers. Always. But you’re pretty cool, too, I suppose.” His voice is light, unbothered. It makes Carlos tick furiously, though he doesn’t dare show it. You can’t pinpoint the moment tension rose up, snapping you out of your trance. Blinking hastily, you aim a sour snarl at the Spaniard.

“We were sort of having a good time, so…” You shoo him away with a jeweled hand. “I just don’t want to kill the vibes. You understand, right?” Barely giving him a chance to respond, you turn back to your conversation, leaving Lalo and Rupert to appear puzzled, but stupidly playing along.

With a raw click of the tongue, the 29 year old takes a step forward, leveling down to your ear. “Pretend all you want, but you’re still wearing my initials around that pretty wrist of yours.” And walks away.

It was true. Your parents had gifted you a lucky charm bracelet for your fourteenth birthday, and Carlos greedily beat everyone to it. A car, for your love for Formula One. A chili, a shy thank you for his nickname. An ice cream, well, because you just loved ice cream. And a cursive CS. For him.

Watching him walk away left you with a hole in your heart. You did not need a reminder like that on a day like this. Wearing it was purely out of habit, it had no meaning to it anymore. At least that’s what you kept telling yourself. The need to use the restroom was a complete lie as you wordlessly peek for the broad Spaniard. You spot his glossy shoes first, sticking out the photo booth.

“Scoot,” you say, gently cramming him in deeper. Once you get situated, you slide the silver charm off, handing it over to him. “Here.”

He furrows his dark brows. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t want anything tying me back to you anymore. It was kind—sweet—but that was past you. You’re cruel, mean, rude, a fucking jerk now. I don’t like that, so— here.”

“I don’t want it,” he retorts, curling your flat hand into a fist, forcing you to hold it tight.

“Well I don’t either, so what is there to do? You know what; I’ll just sell it. It’s not even that significant,” you mumble, already making your way out, but not before he hauls you back. Falling straight onto his thigh. You can feel your pulse quicken, your cheeks tingle, and your eyes suddenly burn. “Let me go,” you squeal, trying your best to weasel out of his grip. He groans, placing a large hand on either side of your hips, pushing you down.

“No. Just listen to me first.” Sighing, you nod. You should be climbing off; there’s room for two. He should be pushing you off; there’s room for two. But none of that happens as he clears his throat, rehearsing his words over and over before you raise a neat brow, waiting for him. “Perdón. Por todo.”

Not what you were expecting and he could tell when you let out a small gasp. Nervously, he licks his lips, admiring your plump ones that don’t lay too far off from his own. “I used to be so proud of you when we were just kids. When you first admitted you wanted to race too. It was adorable, the way your eyes lit up.” Your breath deepens, unknowing of what this was leading to. “But I’ve always been proud. That’s never changed.”

“You’re a terrific liar,” you timidly chuckle, patting his shoulder, making him back off a little. But he only ricochets forward, twice as close. Your insides churn.

“You don’t know how fucking happy I was when you got a seat. Over the moon. But I won’t lie; I was hurt and said some shitty things that have no excuse tied to them. I know I hurt you—I know that now. But that feeling vanished when worry came creeping in. I don’t want you to sign that contract.”

You flinch, reality crashing down on you once again as you examine the Ferrari driver. “Why apologize if you haven’t changed? My feelings aren’t a joke,” you whimper pathetically, tears sliding down your cheeks, soft brows drawn together.

He panics, gingerly brushing them away to the best of his ability and you don’t have the power to fight him off anymore. You’re too busy getting your heart broken once again by the same man.

She’s beautiful. Insanely—it’s insane. Her eyes are a shade of green I’d never thought I’d like.

I once wore a shade of green shorts last summer and you called them ugly. Said it looked like vomit.

Carlos sighs dreamily, dominantly shaking his head.

Well crap. I must’ve changed my mind.

Present him, was taking in your frantic sobs and he doesn’t know how else to calm you if it's not by rubbing your back gently. It takes a while, but you eventually ease up, occasionally letting out a shaky breath. “First of all, let me tell you why I did everything within me for you not to sign. It’s no good.”

You tilt your head in confusion, nose runny as he hands you his handkerchief. “I-I’m confused.”

Carlos chuckles. “What was the one thing I would always complain to you about when I was away racing?” Lack of privacy? “Okay, second thing I raved about…” When you don’t answer, he sheepishly wiggles his brows. “How tired I was with my team. It’s exhausting because like it or not—we’re not at our prime. I don’t think we will be for a couple of years. But for my benefit, I’ll be gone, and then it’s only going to fall on-”

“Me,” you finish, glossy eyes dancing through his painful expression.

He nods. “Listen, Charles will be fine. Mentally not, but he’ll do just okay. It’s you I’m worried about. Not only will you dive in, nose first into a world of ruthless men, but you’ll always be the entire blame. In their eyes, it'll be you. What did you do wrong? How could you fuck up? And sure, you might sometimes—it's inevitable— but other times you won’t. But you’re a girl, and that’s enough for the fingers to be pointed at you.”

Shaking your head profusely, you instantly reach up to catch your hair from falling from its tiring up-do. He helps you out, combing his fingers nicely, though this time it doesn’t get rid of the queasy feeling. He was right. God, why did he have to be right?

“I’m well aware of what I’m about to get myself into. But I think I can handle it. I can’t not do it—imagine how many girls it would help pave the way for? I’m sure as fuck it won’t be easy, and it might threaten my sanity, but I need to do this. And I’m sorry.”

An unfamiliar wave crashes against his warm eyes, a low breath being expanded into the air. You can feel it, taste it. Mint mojito. Your body told you, you liked it, with the way you wanted to lean in and kiss him—just to confirm. Pursing your lips, you continue. “You have your future decided and I have mine.”

With a hesitant bow, and a tide of curls flying forward, he clears his throat. “You’ve always been this way. Dedicated. And I could never decipher why. Until now.” He can’t help but brush his nose against yours. Your eyes flutter shut, allowing him to appreciate your pretty features. “If you’re sure, then I’m right behind you.”

You almost want to laugh, but are too scared to ruin the moment, so instead count his freckles. “I am…” A sharp inhale. “But what’s the second thing?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said ‘first of all’. I would assume there’s more…” You know there is, but you just want to hear him say it aloud. You’d seen the way he glared viciously at Lalo, chest firming. You’d seen the way things had shifted between you two, months prior, after his break up.

If this racing thing doesn’t work out, you would make a killer artist. He whistles.

Down boy, you joke. It’s just a swan. I resonate with them.

He sits up straighter. Then consider me a swan, too.

You laugh loudly, tossing your head back as he smiles. Why all of a sudden?

Just.

“It took me a while to get here, but I’m here.” He cradles your delicate face. “I think I love you. I-I mean I know I love you. Your stubbornness, your compliance. Your level-headedness, your intrusive actions. Your need to persevere and be better—even if others make it hard on you.” You giggle, poking his chest. “But above all, I love the way you made me work for it. I’m glad you did because how else could I have realized if you didn’t drag that dead-beat?”

“Hey! He’s nice!”

The 29 year old tsks. “Nice isn’t enough and you know it.” His pink lips graze over yours as you lean in too. “You’ve always been a smart girl…” He’s about to kiss you when you slide back, leaving him hanging. He clenches his jaw, seeming teased.

“I love swans because I know I can love as deep as one.”

“I can too.”

“And I know, you know, that I love you too.”

“I do know that.”

“And I lit you up on fire, but only on paper!”

His brows furrow. “Yeah, we can circle back to that. But I don’t care. I love all that about you. And I want you to know my father has always been proud of you.” He winks. “But never as much as me.”

“We’re doing this then?” you ask nervously. “Y-you’re still going to have to grovel. I don’t give up that easily. Especially after all you’ve put me through.”

Carlos gently nods, eyes adoring you. “I’ve waited more than a decade for this moment. What’s one more?”

And he kisses you.

taglist: @urfavnoirette @lpab @d3kstar @namgification @myownwritings

*feel free to let me know if you would like to be included in the general taglist!!

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smuttysabina · 8 months

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Gahyeon vs The Tentacles: A Tale of Interdimensional Terror and Sex

(Gahyeon x Tentacles, 2.7k words) CHECK THE TAGS

Tags: Filthy sloppy demonic sex, highly dubious anatomy, extremely questionable interdimensional reproductive cycles, tentacle sex, more tentacle cum then her body has room for, tentacle impregnation, egg laying, call your therapist- tell him he's a rich man, no orifice is left un-violated (okay well actually a lot are but...), illegal demonic summoning, birth, unspeakable degeneracy, consensual sex

Happy Halloween you degenerates

Gahyeon flips through the pages of the grimoire, bored beyond belief; who would have thought that finding a good demon for an orgy would be so hard! She scowls as she haphazardly tosses the book aside before snatching another one from the pile next to her roost in the old armchair. Halloween was fast approaching, and it was Dreamcatcher's hallowed tradition that every member would have to bring a demon along for their yearly spooky gangbang. Gahyeon's demon for last year had been a terrible disappointment, a Baphomet with meter-long cock; what the fuck was she supposed to do with a dick that huge? Okay, it had been pretty fun getting literally hosed down with demon-semen, but still! Flicking peevishly through the pages, she spots something that catches her eye, now this might work! Gahyeon would have to test it out first though, nothing was more embarrassing than trying to summon an interdimensional sex-partner only for the spell to fizzle in front of everybody...

Moving with confidence, Gahyeon quickly gathers the materials needed for the summoning; thankfully no virgin blood was required this time. Do you know how hard it is to find a virgin working at a Kpop company? Slopping her brush in the bucket of (ethically sourced) blood, Gahyeon swiftly sketches a pentagram on the library floor, then she bends over to draw the circle enclosing the symbol. Fell hieroglyphs and bizarre runes are carefully added around the perimeter ring, as Gahyeon busies herself with the fine details. She adds candles to every point of the pentagram, before as a final touch she dumps some leftover calamari in the center as a medium. Perfect. (What, its totally normal for an Idol to trespass the dark infinites to find a fuck-buddy; do you really think your favorites aren't doing it too?) Gahyeon calmly adjusts her outfit, as she prepares to start the incantation; first impressions are Important, you can't just greet your new friend butt-naked and bent over! (Well you can, it's just impolite) Unwords spill from Gahyeon's perky lips, scarring the air itself as she slowly makes several circuits around her summoning circle. An unhealthy light begins to grow around the discarded food-scraps, until they are burning with unnatural colors; then with a disgusting shlorp they disappear. Gahyeon blinks, did it work? Then a glowing pool of liquid appears, filling the circle until it is bubbling up the wards on the sides; a success!

Gahyeon squats in front of the unearthly puddle, impatient for any sign of the being she had supposedly just summoned. She starts as a long pink tube languidly rises out of the liquid, halting when level with her face and swaying gently. Gahyeon perks up, and cheerfully introduces herself, "Greetings almighty TZARNIGLOTHIFLORGUMALRQ'VSHYTUOPLONOAL, I was wondering if you wanted to go to an orgy next week with me?" The tendril bobs excitedly, and she beams, "Awesome! But um, let's get to know each other a bit better first okay?" The tentacle palpitates before ducking back into the pool, making nary a ripple. Gahyeon blandly stares at the pool, did she just get dumped...? Then a new tentacle erupts from the portal, much thicker and more purple than the last one, with a bulbous, fleshy tip. It quests slowly towards Gahyeon, pausing at the edge of the barrier; she rolls her eyes, and with a wave of her hand dispels it. The tentacle kisses her lips, and she opens her mouth to allow it inside of her.

The tentacle fills Gahyeon's mouth, probing towards the back of her throat before pausing, lulled by licking of her tongue. She slurps upon the squishy appendage, playfully sucking it off with surprising skill, her hands stroking its length. A sickly sweet fluid starts to appear in her mouth, and she redoubles her efforts, realizing that this must be some sort of precum. The tentacle wiggles and pulsates inside of her mouth, expanding until her tongue is pushed entirely down, leaving her throat clear. Warm, slick liquid spurts into Gahyeon's mouth, which she handily gulps down, but it is soon followed by a flood of gummy balls that slide easily down her well-lubricated throat. She gags, arms flailing as she tries to swallow the seemingly endless stream of boba-like spheres pouring into her stomach. Eventually the deluge ceases, and the tentacle deflates and withdraws from Gahyeon, leaving her coughing and clutching at her belly. She rubs herself while glaring at the now spent purple appendage, why does her tummy feel so strange, just what sort of demonic semen is inside of her? One thing for sure, Gahyeon feels a bizarre need for anal sex, like, deep, hard plowing. With a mischievous smile she lifts the hem of her dress up and pulls down her panties, "Well, surely you've got more to show me..."

Smooth, pink tentacles erupt out of the eldritch pool, slithering around Gahyeon's body and lifting her into the air. More tentacles hold her legs open while others snake underneath her clothes and slither sensuously around her breasts. She simpers at the overwhelming sensations assaulting her skin, so focused is she on her own pleasure that she barely notices the growing pressure against her anus. Gahyeon gasps as she feels something hot and slimy enter her ass, slowly but steadily pushing deeper inside of her; expanding to fit the contours of her innards. The tentacles coiling around her body begin to secrete the same fluid that had presaged the purple tentacles orgasm, coating Gahyeon in a thin layer of slime. She moans, writhing in the tentacles grasps, her nerves made extraordinarily sensitive by the tentacles' fluid; demanding that her demonic lover continue rubbing her. She climaxes messily when the tendril inside of her quests even deeper, delving into her small intestine as it slowly fills up her belly with its fleshy length. Gahyeon's eyes roll back as she cums repeatedly from the novel sensation of having her guts fucked; her tummy bulging obscenely. Then the tentacle within slowly begins to wind its way out of her, leaving behind a warm, slippery trail of fluid that makes her tremble with a strange excitement. Gahyeon's eyes widen as she feels something start to flow down her guts, what the fuck...?

A smooth, pliable ovoid plops wetly out of Gahyeon's ass, making her shudder with sickening delight. She groans, "What the fuck is that?" before any further questions are stopped by a veritable flood of eggs spewing out of her anus. Gahyeon's arms spasm frantically as her asshole sputters noisily, as if the world's longest string of anal beads was getting yanked out of her ass. She cums so hard from her sensitive ass getting violated that she blacks out, only regaining consciousness some time afterwards; her ass gaping in the cool air. Breathing heavily, Gahyeon manages to gasp out, "Did- did you just impregnate my fucking guts? Ugh... Fuck that felt so good though!" A salacious gleam fills her eyes, her mind hazy with lust, she reaches down to spread her other hole, "You dummy, don't you know you're supposed to knock up a human using this hole? Fill me up again! I want to birth your spawn using my cunt this time," Gahyeon haughtily demands. A pink tendril noses at her entrance, but she bats it away irritably, "No! Use a purple one I said!" She licks her lips when she sees another bulbous, purple tentacle emerge from the pool, wiggling her hips with excitement as it approaches.

Gahyeon moans as the tentacle slides inside of her sopping pussy, squirming around as it examines her hole until it pokes at her cervix. Its flesh tip kisses the entrance to her womb, before worrying at it as the tendril seeks to enter her most sacred place. Gahyeon slows her breathing, drawing upon her lessons with Jihyo to relax her cervix, allowing the tentacle to slither inside of her uterus. She spasms a little as the fleshy tube explores her womb, now this was certainly a new sensation for her! Gahyeon grunts as she feels a surge of warm fluid and eggs spewing inside of her, thank goodness her cavity was designed to be stretched out... The purple tendril slips out of her pussy, before a familiar pink tentacle takes its place, already slopping lubricating fluids all over her crotch. Gahyeons pouts in annoyance, "This is the most boring tentacle rape I've ever been to. Like, I don't mind being forced to birth you eggs and shit, but can you at least fucking violate me while I do? I want at least, one tentacle fucking all of my holes at all times; and I had better be getting pumped full of so much cum I look pregnant! What's the point of screwing tentacles if I'm not getting ruined? Oh- and if you could fuck my tits too that would be great." The tentacle poised to insert itself pauses for a moment, as Gahyeon blandly watches the shimmering pool for an answer. Several dozen more pink tentacles menacingly rise out of the water, and she claps her hands in delight; now this is more like it!

Gahyeon gurgles happily around the fleshy tube shoved down her throat, sucking upon it with all her might. Two more pink tentacles make an absolute mess of her cunt, slopping fluids all over the floor, while another is busy filling her ass with cum. Several small tendrils also invade Gahyeon's more exotic orifices, wriggling inside of her nipples and urethra before filling those with creamy liquid as well. Under such an assault, its no wonder that Gahyeon is orgasming almost continuously, her abused holes spasming around the tentacles fucking her brains out. The tentacle occupying her esophagus pulsates, and she feels a seemingly endless surge of hot liquid spew into her stomach until it sloshes with every movement she makes. Finally spent, the tentacle unclogs Gahyeon's throat only after her face has turned rosy from lack of oxygen. Panting, she still manages to tongue it gratefully as it withdraws, sucking on it until it emerges from between her lips with a sensual pop. Then the tendril squirming between her huge breasts explodes all over her chest, painting her chain and neck with a slick of filthy fluid.

Now thoroughly in heat, Gahyeon rubs the resulting aphrodisiacal mess into her breasts, causing her nipples to swell up even as they are toyed with by smaller tentacles. An utterly perverse idea crosses her mind, and at her urging, two fresh purple ovipositor tentacles nose at her teats. Her nipples are forced wider as the ribbed tendrils slowly press inside, before starting to pulsate with a now familiar rhythm. Gahyeon groans with ecstasy as her breasts are impregnated, as eggs slop into her unused mammaries until they are heaving with slick spheroids. She gropes herself forcefully, relishing in the feeling of her already large breasts now swollen to capacity with weighty eggs. But it's still not enough for the lustful slut, who is now indulging in her wildest fantasies. Even as the pink tendrils return to lubricating the insides of her tits, she hauls another larger one towards her mouth, "Don't stop until you come out the other side..." Gahyeon accepts the tentacle into her mouth, allowing its meaty length to curl down her throat and towards her stomach. In bends slightly, allowing air to flow into her lungs, while plumbing ever deeper. Now it was literally in her stomach, already roiling with lubricating fluids, before pushing onwards...

Gahyeon squirms as the tentacle winds its way down through her innards, cumming as she wordlessly demands her for her cunt to be stimulated. Then the tentacle was through the tight confines of her organs, and was freely wriggling its way out of her already abused guts. She whines as she feels her asshole birth the thickening coil, her eyes glazing over as it raises back up to her face, as if showing off. Gahyeon convulses, she was being impaled, she had been reduce to filthy fucking meat-tube! Only after enduring what seems like an endless orgasm, does the pink tentacle deign to withdraw, leaving her feeling worn and violated; not that she was slowing down. The tendrils fucking her breasts had not been idle while Gahyeon had been filled all-the-way-through, and her tits were now burning with a grotesque heat. She looks down in shock, that was fast, her hands squeezing her boobs as they start to leak and pulse. Gahyeon squeals as the first oviod forces its way out of her gaping nipple, rolling down her shaking stomach before falling to the floor. A tide of eggs follows, spewing out of both of her breasts as she watches with amazement the sight of her tits giving birth. She croons as she gently massages her blown-out breasts, fuck she needs more and more! With daemonic energy she demands that the ravaging of her holes recommence, Gahyeon doesn't need to rest, she needs to get destroyed!

After nearly another hour of rapacious hole-fucking, Gahyeon writhes from overstimulation, as she feels a familiar heat begin to grow in her belly. She looks down in surprise as several more tentacles snake inside of her, filling her holes to capacity and more; gushes of fluid pouring out of her with every thrust. Her moans grow higher in pitch as the supreme moment approaches, her uterus pressing downwards against the knot of tendrils occupying her cunt. Gahyeon gasps as her cervix slowly begins to open, the pressure within forcing its lips to part, "Oh my god its coming out! Oh fuck I'm giving birth! It hurts so good!" Gahyeon wails as the first egg squeezes its way out, the tentacles swiftly pulling out of her pussy to give her space. Then the next one emerges, followed by several dozen more; every egg prompting her to moan and squirt, the tentacles in her guts continuing to pleasure her innards. Her hands frantically stroke the tendrils in her hands, milking them one-by-one into her mouth in a frenzy of degenerate lust as her mind goes blank...

When Gahyeon had finished birthing the slimy ovoids, the tentacles gently lower her to the ground, leaving her on her knees in a puddle of lubricating fluid. Her blown-out holes sputter weakly, and she clutches at her belly that was so swollen with cum it looks as if she was pregnant. Then Gahyeon notices that she is alone once more in the room, the portal of glistening liquid fast receding. She pouts, is it over already? A singular purple tentacle emerges from the pool, fluted and ribbed; bobbing gently in exhaustion. With a mischievous smirk, Gahyeon grasps the flesh tube and takes it in her mouth, her wily tongue slithering inside of the tendril's hole. Holding it steady, she teases and plays with the pseudo-cock until it is leaking into her mouth; then she starts to suck and it quivers. Gahyeon gracefully swallows egg after egg, her throat so well lubricated that even though they are larger, the gummy balls slide down her gullet with ease. When it is finished filling her with its spawn, she removes it from her mouth, before giving its bruised tip and sloppy kiss. "So, I'll be seeing you in a week, right? I'll incubate the babies you plopped into my tummy until then, but next time... Next time you had better impregnate all of my holes, oh and violate me even harder; the fact that I'm even conscious right now is really not great." The tentacle pulsates in her grasp, and Gahyeon finally allows it to escape back into the hellish dimension from which it came; the portal closing behind it with a wet shlorp.

Gahyeon staggers towards the exit of the library, her leaking holes leaving behind a slippery trail of fluids. She was looking forward to having her innards invaded again, the other girls would be so jealous of her! She doesn't think any of them had given birth while getting fucked before either, so she was really going to be able to show off! Gahyeon tenderly strokes at her protruding belly, feeling the eggs squirming inside of her; who knew that serving as the breeding-pouch for an interdimensional demon would be so fucking arousing?

Well, maybe Gahyeon, but she did read a little too much hentai for her own good...

#kpop smut #dreamcatcher smut #gahyeon smut #tentacles #smut

409 notes · View notes

kissagii · 3 months

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Your brothers are dumb, but Isagi is always your number one fan.

cw: gender neutral reader, 2.4k words, reader is rin & sae's musically gifted sibling, silly isagi, obscene amounts of pining, i don't know how music competitions work lol

@celestair it's here!!!! thank you so much for the fabulous prompt <3

“So, you’re on next, how do you feel?” Your friend Yuki asks, giving you a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder. The performer before you is wrapping up his piece, and your turn on stage is approaching far too quickly.

“Were they there?” You whisper, completely ignoring her question.

“Didn’t see ‘em,” Yuki sighs, “But hey, you can’t see anything from up on that stage, don’t give up just yet.”

Despite her attempts at encouragement, you both know the truth. They aren’t there. They never are. Even now, as you prepare to step onstage in the final round of a national piano competition, your two soccer-obsessed brothers are nowhere to be found. You should’ve expected that from the start when the most they could offer to your invitation was “ok.”

How many soccer games have you attended by now? How many hours have you spent in the sweltering heat, watching your brothers run up and down a field kicking a ball around? And despite all that, they have yet to deem one of your music events as worth their time. You’re half sure the reason they neglected to arrive was because neither one would be caught dead sitting in the same room as the other. It’s always a competition with those two – a test to see who could be the better soccer player, the worse brother – and you’re simply caught in the crossfire as you pursue your own wholly different passions.

But now, unfortunately, there’s only one thing to do: go out on stage, play your heart out, and hope that maybe, just maybe, you’ll get a scrap of recognition from one of the fools who shared your last name.

“Break a leg. And don’t let your shitty brothers get to you,” Yuki says, nudging you out onto the stage as the previous performer exited past you.

When you walk onstage there is no announcement of your name, no applause. There never is. Just a silence so thick it could be cut with a knife as the audience watches with judging eyes, anticipating eyes, and… hopeful eyes? The stage feels different today, fresh and pleasantly cool, as if the crushing expectations are lifted ever so slightly.

Then you see him. It’s just a glance, an impression of an individual, a hint of green and black in your periphery. But when he sees you it’s earth-shattering. He can breathe again – but only one barely-muffled gasp, because you’re quick to steal the air from his lungs as his heart begins to inexplicably race. Isagi has been in the same audience seat many times by now – the same seat every time, for his favorite view – yet every time he sees you walk out onto that stage it’s like rebirth, a preparation for the waves of joy and sadness and admiration and, dare he say it, love, that would wash over him as you played. All he has to hope is that you know he’s there, watching like he always is. And for the first time, you know – you deeply, truly, know – someone is out there watching you.

For this competition, you chose Liszt’s Un Sospiro. After mastering the technique, you spent hours of practice imbuing the piece with a thousand emotions, a thousand ways to sigh, and yet none of them felt quite right. So in the ten seconds before your fingers hit the keys, you have a decision to make.

Yoichi.

Of course, how could you forget?

Without a moment’s hesitation, you begin to play, the notes dancing with the image in your mind. Simply the thought of him makes your heart race in time with the arpeggios, your measured breaths falling out of time as you let the music wash over you. The emotion flows so naturally you’re not sure if you’re pushing them into the music or if the music is pulling them out of you, a different one for each phrase, the joy and fear and longing and hope and desperation. You could practically see them, figures of light in every color dancing together across the stage and out into the audience, seeking out their target.

They more than find their target: they crash into him like unceasing waves. Each one slightly different than the last, yet all so familiar; a language without words, yet each phrase he understands clearly.

Is it five minutes, one, or thirty? Time begins to blur, everything fading to soft pink and green and orange and blue, colors and sounds existing independently of earthly constraints. It’s transcendental, almost, the room immersed in a lovestruck state of reverie until the final notes echo through the auditorium.

By the end of the piece his chest is aching, and yours is aching too. The exhilaration hardly makes sense – were you not full of worry only minutes ago? Or had it been an eternity since anything other than Yoichi was on your mind? Adrenaline pulsing through your veins makes your head spin as you attempt to process your own performance. Oh, how unreal it felt. It had been a long time since you last felt so moved by your own playing… yes, truly a long time.

The audience applauds with the required politeness, if not a bit louder than usual. None of it falls on your ears, though. You’re too busy staring at Isagi’s distant face as he gazes back at you with sparkling cobalt eyes. He nearly forgets to clap, sitting so unblinkingly still that those in the seats next to him wonder if he’s alright. He’s more than alright – his mind is racing in the same way it does when he scores a goal, and it’s taking every ounce of self-control he has to keep him from running to you now.

As soon as you’re backstage, Yuki barrels into you, earning a few miffed glares from the last few performers preparing to go on. “Oh my god, that was amazing!” She whisper-yells, “I’ve never heard you play like that! See, I knew you’d do just fine without them in the audience.”

Right. Them. You had forgotten about them while onstage.

“I think I’ve found someone else worth playing for,” You murmur, half to yourself. For the first time, you didn’t really mind that your brothers hadn’t been there. Of course, it would’ve been nice, but without them… without them, you had made magic. You can make magic.

Yuki smiles brightly, the way she always does. “You’ve gotta tell me everything. And quickly, so as soon as this shindig is over you can head out and see your loverboy.”

“How’d you know that’s what it was?”

“Trust me, it was obvious. I’m pretty sure everyone knew.”

So, of course, you tell her everything. And as soon as the final round of applause echoes down the hallway, you’re getting pushed toward the door, standing nervously in the auditorium lobby until a familiar face emerges from the exit doors.

You see him first, which means you get to watch in real-time as he sees you and immediately lights up like a kid in a candy store. It’s his third epiphany of the day, and the only thing he can think to do is run toward you, frantically apologizing to strangers as he weaves through the crowd. Before you can even greet him or thank him for coming, he thrusts a large bouquet of flowers into your hands.

“You did amazing! Your music is like magic and I think I might be in love with you!” Isagi blurts out.

“Huh?”

“I’m sorry, that was probably tactless. No, it was definitely tactless. I’m sorry. It’s just, I saw you up there and I heard you play and it was like the music was talking to me and it was saying, oh, by the way, you have feelings for them and it’s actually ridiculous that you didn’t notice earlier because you’re absolutely whipped, y’know? Is that weird?”

You can’t help but chuckle at his unrestrained reaction, the genuineness in his tone. “No, it’s not weird at all.”

“It’s not?” He asks, breathing out a sigh of relief.

“Of course not. It means you heard what I was trying to tell you.”

It’s his turn to be surprised, and he lets out a soft, confused, “Eh?”

“I knew I wouldn’t be able to confess to you directly, so I did it the only way I knew how. Yoichi, will you go out with me?”

“Yes! Absolutely!” He beams, smiling wider than you’ve ever seen him smile before; little wrinkles appear next to his eyes and his slightly crooked teeth are on full display. Shyly, he asks: “Could I hug you?”

“Please do,” you say, opening your arms to let him wrap his tightly around you. For a moment you stand in silence (not true silence, of course, because the room is full of people) and feel his heartbeat hammering against your chest. He feels your heartbeat too, he swears he can hear it over the noise.

“Thank you for coming, Yoichi,” You whisper, gripping the flower bouquet tightly, “It means a lot to me that you could be here.”

He hugs you tighter, so tight it feels like your ribs might crack in his grip. “Of course. You always come to my big games, there’s no way I’d let myself miss one of your big events. Speaking of that, do you know when the results come out?”

Though you’d like to keep hugging him forever, you let go and check the time.

“They’ll let us back into the auditorium in an hour, though they never seem to announce the winners on time.”

“In that case, can I take you out on a date while we wait? Unless you already made plans to wait with someone else… ahh, I really should’ve thought this out more.” Isagi scratches the back of his neck with an awkward smile, a nervous habit of his that never seems to lose its charm.

“Oh, no, I don’t have plans. I’m sure Yuki’s already gone off with her boyfriend, and you’re the only person I really know who showed up to watch. Spending the hour with you is a serious step up from waiting alone.”

“Let’s go then! There’s a cute café just down the road if you’re hungry, or we could go walk around the mall if you’d prefer.”

Isagi lets you lead for the hour, making it a bit of an early celebration. Because while the results aren’t out just yet, he’s entirely sure that your performance is worth a hundred gold medals and more. Anything you want to do is good enough for him, even if it’s something as simple as window shopping in formal wear, and he does everything in his power to make sure he’s the best new boyfriend possible. After all, he’s won at life, hasn’t he? Because now he gets to date you – he gets to give you flowers and cheer for you and hold your hand and make you smile.

As you sit in the adjacent seats waiting for the results to be announced, he rubs his finger affectionately over your thumb.

“See, I told you they’d start late,” You whisper with a laugh.

“They must’ve realized their trophy wasn’t big enough to properly congratulate you,” He whispers back.

“Hey, don’t say things like that! I haven’t won yet.”

“I don’t think you witnessed yourself perform. You did amazing.”

“And you’re not a musician, so you’re not qualified to decide who won.”

“Even an untrained ear can tell you were the best up there. Trust me.”

Before you can come up with a witty reply, the head judge steps up to the podium on stage, holding a single sheet of paper in her hand. She gives a short speech – something about appreciating the hard work of the competitors – but neither you nor Isagi hear half of what she says. The room is silent waiting for the top three to be announced.

“In third place,” The Judge calmly says into the microphone, “Matsuoka Yuki.”

Immediately you burst into cheers, hastily untangling your hand from Isagi’s so you can applaud your friend. Her performance had been stunning, and she’s more than deserving of the prestigious accomplishment.

“In second place,” The Judge continues, once the applause quiets down, “Watanabe Shigeru.”

Another talented performer, of course. He had won his fair share of competitions, and the two of you had stood together on the winner’s stage more than once. As soon as you finish applauding, Isagi grabs your hand and squeezes tightly, as if to say the Judge will call your name next, I just know she will.

The moment you spent months waiting for is here. Either your hours of rehearsal and stress and aching hands paid off, or they didn’t. And the only thing between you and knowing was one sentence from the Head Judge’s mouth.

“Finally, in first place, winner of the Japan National Piano Competition, Itoshi Y/n.”

I’ve won. It’s as if you’re up on that stage once more, the way that the room explodes into applause like thunder. Isagi is shouting and shaking you by the shoulders – he really couldn’t be prouder of you. He knew all along, it seems, that your indirect confession was worth a gold medal from the organization and a thousand more in his heart.

The head judge invites the winners up to the stage, and Isagi nearly pushes you out of your seat to receive your award. Yuki meets you onstage, whispering her polite but excited congratulations to you. You return them hurriedly before taking your place on stage to be presented with your trophy. The process of handshakes and photographs feels like it takes forever when all you and Isagi want is to spend the rest of the afternoon together in celebration.

Isagi meets you in the auditorium lobby again, and he presents you with the same bouquet of flowers a second time. “You won! You actually won! I’m so proud of you!”

“Thank you, Yoichi,” You say, grasping his hand with your free one, “Thank you for being here to inspire me. Now c’mon, let’s go celebrate!”

The rest of the afternoon is blissful, almost unreal, just you and Isagi enjoying the sweetness of victory and love. When your phone begins receiving text message after text message you can hardly be bothered to reply immediately, even when you get the message you nearly spent the whole day waiting for.

rin: good job on the competition or wtv

isagi 💚

#imagine ⋆｡°✩#isagi x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi x gn reader #isagi x gender neutral reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #isagi x you #isagi x y/n #blue lock x you #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x gender neutral reader

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bangtanflirt · 10 months

Text

(Un)natural Instincts (Part 4)

*Series taglist is closed.

angst, fluff, smut

Pairings: OT7 x Fem Reader, Human CEO Reader, Human Assistant Yoongi, Wolf Hybrids Joon, Jin, Hobi, Jimin, Tae, and Kook.

Basic premise: You and your assistant end up rescuing six wolf hybrids. No part of the process is easy.

Part 1 > Part 2 > Part 3 > Part 4 > Part 5

General Warnings: Hybrid abuse and lab experimentation, hybrids as second-class citizens/owned property, future smut (Minors DNI, 18+ content)

Specific Warnings: mention of corporal punishment, mention of forced dieting, one line about distorted body image and character using the word "fat" negatively, references to past dubcon and dubcon undertones (hybrids under the influence of synthetic hormones cannot properly consent) but no actual smut, reader's morals and judgement are very questionable for a second

____

The pack expects the worst when you open the door, getting mentally prepared to see whatever horrible condition you might have their youngest in. Their heart yearns at the thought of their beloved Koo trapped in a cage or tied up somewhere. What they do see however, is not something they know how to react to: Jungkook, lazily rolling on your couch with his eyes transfixed on a giant TV.

No collar, no leash, no cage. But no one has enough time to take it in as he springs up upon seeing his pack, darting into Namjoon’s arms and prompting the rest to wrap their hands around the two. The hug is tight and filled with muffled I missed yousand I love yous. Jungkook envelopes himself into all of their scents—the swirl of orange vanilla soaking into his skin and making him feel whole again. There’s not one wolf without glossy eyes, not even the alpha who’s ditched his stoic façade the instant his pup melted into his arms.

Namjoon only snaps out of it when he realizes you’re still there, carefully prying the wolves off of him and making sure everyone’s presentable for you. The rest get the hint and quickly comply—well, everyone except Jungkook. Their youngest has other plans, as he’s making his way to you and pulling you towards the pack.

“Y/N look, everyone’s here! It’s my whole pack!”

The other wolves feel their blood run cold, Namjoon quickly springing into action, reprimanding Jungkook for not addressing you properly.

“We’re so sorry Miss, he’s young and still learning. I’ll teach him better.”

The Alpha feels his chest get tight, realizing the weight of his responsibilities at the moment: this is a new environment with a new person, and he has to get all of his pack in line to not get punished here.

Your voice brings him out of his head,

“It’s okay, I asked him to call me y/n. I’d actually like for all of you to do the same.”

They don’t know how to react, unsure if this is a test.

“Relax guys! It’s not a test.” Jungkook reassures, reading their minds perfectly as he had the same thoughts a couple days ago.

“I don’t do tests like that; you don’t have to worry. Now, I bet everyone is starving. Jungkook, could you help me set the table please?”

He enthusiastically follows you to the dining room, while everyone else follows much more cautiously, standing awkwardly and watching the two of you place dinner plates and silverware. You’d told Chef Gyu to make larger portions, which is why there’s more than enough wagyu beef to go around.

“My friend, Yoongi, will also be staying with us for some time. He’s having dinner at the office, so we can dig in without him.”

The wolves only half-register your words, as the smell and sight of the steak is taking priority. It’s still hard to believe that they’re sitting here with the heavenly meal on the plate in front of them. If the name thing wasn’t a test, this surely has to be; it’ll be any minute now when you laugh at them before taking the plates away, giving them the same grool they’re used to in the labs—if you even feel like feeding them today.

Even Jungkook, who’s slightly used to the good food, is taken aback by today’s extravagance, feeling uncomfortable eating so well as a hybrid.

This time you’ve had Dr. Gong do the allergy tests with the collar removal, so you don’t feel hesitant in giving the “Eat up” command. It’s the first direct order you’ve given tonight, and the unsure wolves slowly start reaching for their silverware.

Jin can’t help the exclamation that escapes his lips the moment the food grazes his tongue, almost crying at the flavorful sensation. It feels as if the three months of wet, tasteless grool is erased in one bite of the best thing he’s ever had. He’s quick to cover his mouth, apologizing instantly for making noise.

“It’s completely fine Jin, I’m so glad you’re enjoying the food.”

“Th-thank you so much Mis—um—y/n.”

You look around the table fondly, until your eyes drop to two of the wolves: Taehyung and Hoseok, sitting side by side.

Taehyung looks at the food with strong desire but can’t seem to use his utensils properly enough to get anything into his mouth.

“Taehyung, is something wrong with your hands?”

The wolf timidly looks up, meeting your eyes. He doesn’t want to say why his hands are hurting—doesn’t want to give you a bad first impression—but it’s not like he can lie to his new owner.

“I w-was bad a couple days ago, so they punished me…twenty five hits to each knuckle…but I learned my lesson! I won’t be bad here ever!”

Embarrassment takes over as he remembers a child getting hurt under his watch. Jin and Jimin were so good at being caretaker hybrids, watching over the children in the testing labs perfectly, but he seemed to be lacking every time. He was trying to be funny, to make the little girl laugh, which she did…but she laughed so much she missed a handle on the monkey bars and ended up with a scraped knee. Worst of all, he started panicking the moment she cried, causing Jin to have to swoop in and clean her wound.

Eating was manageable when he just had to put a spoon to his lips, but trying to cut with a knife and fork were making his fingers cringe. You’re also cringing yourself, thinking about how much each strike on the knuckles would hurt. The other wolves are cursing themselves internally, being too entranced by the food to see if Taehyung was doing alright.

“May I have permission to help feed him?” It’s Jin who jumps in, caretaking instincts on overdrive.

“Yes of course, do whatever you need to.”

Once Jin starts feeding Taehyung, you shift your attention to the hybrid next to him.

Hoseok’s taking the food to his lips, but there’s no indication of joy on his face, in fact, he looks stressed.

“Hoseok” you speak up, causing the man to sit up straight, “do you not like the food?”

His eyes go wide, “N-No! I love it, it’s very delicious. Thank you so much!”

He berates himself for looking ungrateful.

What if she takes it away from everyone because of me? What if I’m the reason my packmates starve tonight?

“It’s okay if you don’t like it. I can get you something else.”

The rest of them know why he’s not eating, but only Jungkook finds it in himself to speak up.

“It’s not the food…Hobi hyung isn’t supposed to eat a lot…”

It pains him to say it, just as it pains the rest to hear it, but that’s how things worked at the lab. Whatever portion the rest got, Hoseok always got half. The other five used to give him theirs, but that was quickly shut down once the researchers started monitoring meals. Their next attempt at solidarity was to only eat half themselves, but there’s only so much you can fight when commands are given out with the Obedience Collar on. A time came when the hormones were perfected, and there was enough in their bodies to make them care more about obeying orders than their precious, underfed packmate.

“Why not?”

Jungkook shifts in his seat nervously, wanting desperately for anyone else to talk. Hoseok seems far too terrified to say anything, but Namjoon thankfully speaks up.

“Romantics aren’t supposed to eat a lot…they have to keep in shape for—um—sexual desirability purposes.” He regurgitates what the researchers drilled into their brains.

Hoseok’s face goes as red as a tomato. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the topic of sex. It wasn’t always like that: there was a time, before the lab, when he would itch to feel his packmates intimately, but that’s all been drained by now. Months fulfilling the lewd commands of complete strangers can change a person like that—make sex and intimacy feel like an obligation.

You don’t know why you keep getting surprised at the cruelty of Kang and his operation, but every new finding makes you wish Kang wasn’t in a holding cell right now—but rather on the street where you could bash his head into a car door.

But you can’t let yourself look shaken up. Someone’s got to be strong for them, someone aside from Namjoon, who clearly needs a break.

“Eating well doesn’t make anyone any less desirable. You can eat as much as everyone else if you want to. Understood?” You’re tone isn’t stern, but very much firm.

“Yes M--Yes! Understood!”

Rest of dinner is filled with knives scraping plates until there’s no more food left, everyone eating to their heart’s content. Hoseok still looks like he’s battling himself with each bite, but he eats nonetheless.

Jin insists on doing the dishes, springing up and collecting empty plates the moment he’s done eating. You’re about to show them to their rooms when the doorbell rings.

“Oh, that must be Yoongi. I’ll go get it.”

You make your way to let him inside, seeing his tired visage with two suitcases in hand. You can’t help but feel sorry towards him, knowing how much strain is on his workload having to assist the CCO instead of you, and on top of that, you’re taking away his off-work time now too. You hate how much you rely on Yoongi for everything—how much he offers to take care of everything. It makes you feel like you’re taking advantage of him, no matter how many times he assures you he wants to help.

You feel extra shitty on days like this, when you can tell work is draining him completely.

“Thank you again for coming.” You take his coat and briefcase as he walks in, the hybrids all staring and unsure of how to act. Yoongi looks at Jungkook, giving him a smile as he sees the boy for the first time. He tries to smile at the rest, but it’s tight-lipped, as he feels horrible knowing the first time they saw him was when they were being paraded around as experiments. That’s the worst first impression he could possibly leave.

“You should get some sleep; you look exhausted. I can handle wound care by myself for the night.”

He looks confused for a second before catching on. Of course you’d told them he was mainly here for wound care.

“Oh-uh okay, if that’s alright. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, you’re already such a huge help.”

He mumbles a “nice to meet you all” before making his way to his room—aka the guest room he always sleeps in when you have your emergency overnight work meetings.

The hybrids follow you as you let them see the other rooms, letting them know there’s three free ones plus Jungkook’s and they can share however they want. It feels funny offering up the rooms; you’d always felt so lonely in this mansion of a house. It was picked out with your father’s money when you turned twenty-one, opting for the most opulent place you could find to throw parties—back before you inherited the business, and your biggest stress was which outfit to wear or yacht to buy.

You look remorsefully at Jungkook, thinking about his life at twenty-one versus yours. You don’t know if it hurts more to look at him or Jin, who’s the same age you are right now but with none of the independence that comes with it.

Namjoon knows what his pack is thinking throughout the tour, so he takes a chance and asks.

“Is it okay if we all share Jungkook’s room?”

You turn around in surprise, not expecting such a request. It makes sense, you suppose, and you can’t blame them for wanting to stick together.

“There’s only one bed in there. I don’t know if that’s enough for all of you, even if it is a king-size.”

“We’ve slept in way worse before. It’s more than enough!” Jimin pleads from behind his Alpha.

“If that’s what you guys want, then it’s fine with me.”

You see them visibly relax a little bit.

And so everyone crowds into the youngest’s room, features in awe thinking of their packmate enjoying such a lavish room. You scan around, thinking of how to give them more room to sleep. You never had the need to get any air mattresses, as five guest bedrooms is usually more than enough. That’s when it hits you to drag one of the futon couches from another room into theirs, with Jungkook doing most of the heavy lifting.

“Alright, this one folds out and can fit two people if the bed gets too crowded. We got that figured out, so all there’s left is bandages plus meds, and we can call it a night.”

You work carefully on each hybrid, going down the line with the wound care kits. Jimin and Jin ask every two minutes if they can help, which nudges Taehyung to ask as well, but you refuse to let them.

The three exchange glances of confusion and fear. It’s not exactly a good sign when an owner isn’t using their hybrids, as the researchers reminded them constantly at the lab.

“But this is what we’re trained for. We’ll do it really well, let us prove it to you.”

“I have no doubt you’d do it well Jin, but that’s not what this is about. You should be resting, letting others take care of you for a change.”

___

“She hates us, doesn’t she? She hates us and she’s going to give us to the state first thing tomorrow.”

Namjoon wants to calm Jimin down and assure him that’s not the case, but he’s not even sure himself. Aside from letting Jin do the dishes and Jungkook helping here and there, you’ve denied their services the entire night. You wouldn’t even let the Alpha guard your door for you, insisting that you had excellent security already.

If you had excellent security, and housekeepers, and a personal chef…what the hell could they contribute to be good for you? How long did they have until they were sent away for being useless?

The atmosphere in the room is strained, similar thoughts going through everyone’s mind. Even Jungkook’s. As nice as you’ve been to him so far, he’s not naïve enough to forget that you’re the owner and he’s the hybrid. He was gifted to you, by the most vile people he’s ever met, and it’d be dumb to trust you fully. Does he obey you fully? Absolutely. But trust? That’s only for his packmates.

He sits up from Jimin’s lap, looking at his defeated face and attempting to boost morale. “We just have to show we’re useful hyung. If we can show that, I think we’d all be happy here!”

“We’d all love to stay Koo, I mean this place is more than we’ve ever imagined, but how are we supposed to be useful if she already has everything we can give?”

Hoseok finally speaks up.

“I’ll go try.”

No one says a thing as they watch him leave the room, with everyone’s first reaction being relief. If Hoseok does this right, then maybe no one will have to leave. They know he doesn’t enjoy his role—it’s the one they’d want to do the least—and if they were in their right minds, they would never let him offer himself up in such a way. But no one’s in their right minds, and all they want is to be good for you.

___

You’re applying moisturizer when you hear the knock on your door.

“It’s me, Hoseok. C-can I come in?”

You make your way over to unlock the door.

“Are you really tired?”

Truthfully? Yes, you are. Today’s been an insane rollercoaster of emotions, with the stress of work and the adoption, but you don’t want to turn him away if he needs to talk about something.

“No, I’m happy to make some time for you if you need.”

He nods, inching his way closer, fluttering his eyelashes in the flirty way he’s perfected. If you weren’t so exhausted, this would be the point you’d catch on.

“So, what can I help you with?”

Before you can register what’s happening, his hands are on your waist and your noses are almost touching. Those beautiful brown eyes have narrowed to a much more seductive gaze, making your breath hitch.

“I’m actually here to help you” even his voice is lower, raspier than before, “just tell me how. If you need me to behave, I can do that. If you need me to take control, I do that well too.”

He says the last part in a whisper, breath fanning your neck as he leans closer to your ear, “Just tell me your fantasies. I can do it all.”

It all attacks your senses at once—his soft vanilla scent, that half-lidded sultry gaze, and those damn heart shaped lips. Your heart threatens to fall out of your chest with how hard it’s beating, and you know he can hear it too. It’s been far too long since you’ve been intimate with anything other than your vibrator, and it’s disconcerting just how quick he can rile you up. His eyes are zoned in on your lips, and there’s nothing you want more at that moment than to just give in and feel good.

But then he bites his lip, and you notice something. Notice that it feels calculated.

The look in his eyes only reinforce this. There’s no real desire there, but rather contrived lust. It’s like the gears in his head are turning, telling him:

Okay bite your lip…now. Perfect.

Flutter your lashes more, they always like that.

Maybe I need to get closer.

It becomes clear that this is just a routine, one that’s not bringing him pleasure at all. And that’s enough to snap you out of the trance—guilt hitting you like a truck as you push him back. You’re not supposed to have these thoughts when you know what he’s gone through. It’s clear he’s not in control of his actions right now, so how could you even think to take advantage of him like that?

God, his bandaged neck is right in front of you, and you still had those thoughts. Are you really that low y/n?

Hoseok’s having his own mental breakdown at the rejection, blood running cold the second you push him away. You don’t want him. He doesn’t get it…your heart was beating fast, and you looked like you were into it. Was his voice not low enough? Should he have winked the way they taught him in the lab? Was dinner actually a test and now you don't want him because he's too fat?

He's already disappointed you just at the seducing stage. Great.

Now it’s his heart that’s beating fast, palpitating at the thought of having to go back and explain his failure to the rest of them. How disappointed will they be once he tells them he can’t even be desirable enough for you—when that’s all he’s been trained to do for three fucking months?!

What am I supposed to do if I’m the reason we all get shipped to a shelter in the morning?

The thought alone causes tears to spill from his eyes.

You’re pulled out of your own head at lightning speed the moment you notice, which is admittedly too late as he’s full on sobbing now.

“I’m so sorry y/n. I’ll be better—” he’s gasping for breath in between the sobs, “I’ll do anything you want— Please don’t push me away.”

“Hoseok…that’s not…that’s not why I brought you here. You don’t have to force yourself to do things you clearly don’t want to.”

Ah. So that’s where he messed up. He made it obvious he wasn’t into it.

Stupid Hoseok. Dumb Hoseok. Can’t do a single thing right Hoseok.

A new stream of tears wet his cheeks and you’re scrambling.

“Sweetheart, please look at me,”

He lifts his head up, trying to look at you through blurry lenses. The affectionate nickname doesn’t go unnoticed, giving him a sliver of hope.

“I know you’re trying to be good for me by doing this, but you’re already so good.”

Confusion is clear on his features.

“But I haven’t done anything useful.”

“That’s not true. You’ve been so polite, all of you have, so polite and so” it makes you recoil saying the next words, but you know it’s what he needs to hear, “well-behaved.”

His ears perk up at that, as if you’re dangling another piece of that delicious wagyu beef in front of him.

“Really?”

“Yes Hobi” you try out the nickname, and it’s obvious by the way his eyes light up that you’ve made the right choice.

“Now, how are we feeling about washing up, wiping those tears off, and getting you back to the others?”

He holds the bottom of your shirt at the mention of going back.

“Wait! C-can I stay the night? Just sleep next to you? If I go back now…they’ll hate me.”

If you were any less physically or emotionally worn-out, you would’ve explained that no one would blame him because there’s nothing he did wrong—but all you want right now is a quick fix to keep him from crying and a good night’s sleep.

“Okay.”

____

A/N: Got this one out sooner than I thought I would since I had some time off work! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always highly appreciated!

Permanent Taglist: @skyys-universe @morelovefortn @seagulljk

Series Taglist [CLOSED]: @welcometomyworld13 @kalala22 @fxirytaetae @btsfluffsworld @belikejk @shycreationdreamland @danielle143 @singukieee @blackrockshooter780 @g-b-artist @i-have-no-life-charlie @sopemee @no-regrets-just-confusion @acciocriativity @ldysmfrst @amara-mars @caelumwrites @estrellaburnxd @borahaetelevision @on-1ce @fuckthinking @jaiele

*If Tumblr doesn't let me tag you for some reason, I'll send you a DM instead!

#bts hybrid au #bts hybrid x reader #poly ot7 #ot7 x reader #hurt/comfort #bts angst #bts smut #bts fluff #unnatural instincts

948 notes · View notes

didishawn · 1 year

Note

PLS DO A SMUT WERE PEDRI AND Y/ N HAVE CHILDREN AND THEY HAVE TO BE RLLY QUIET AND THEIR CHILDREN WALK IN LMAOO

Unlocked door (Pedri x Reader) smut

Warnings: lots of Spanish, smut, getting caught, awkward talk

Masterlist

Having kids is hard, that is something you have had in mind since the first test informed you and Pedri about the pregnancy that would later become your first kid, your precious Leo.

Having a kid is hard, is what you always thought whenever it was your turn to get up to calm the baby when he couldn't sleep through the night -god bless Pedri, who took charge of the situation even on times it wasn't his turn.

Having a kid is hard, having two kids is harder, that's what Rosy told you when you told her about what later would become your dear Sofia -it's all worth it though, she also told you, and of course she is right.

The kids are now older, Leo is 5, Sofia 4, finally having started sleeping on their own beds for the night.

Pedri's career is doing great, but being a great football player also means being requested to fly out a lot too, but you both manage, still as in love with each other as the very first day.

The problem, well, not really a problem but your horny partner would state otherwise, is that kids + busy careers makes all harder for sexy times or how you call it in front of the kids "mommy and daddy private time that means always knocking", and having to go from such an active sex life you and Pedri used to have to having to be content with the quickies and few kids-free nights is hard. You are honestly embarrassed to think about all those post-match times you hace taken the chance of your kids playing around with others under the watchful eyes of one of Pedri's teammates to sneak around to have a quick fuck in the dressing room or some available closet.

Pedri has been quite touchy the whole day -you can't blame him, it's been a long time since your last alone time. Arms around your waist as you cooked breakfast and kisses on your neck, a hand on your knee as you all ate together, his head on you shoulder arm around you during movie time with the kids, showing off his abs when in the pool with the kids. During lunch he doesn't even pretend not to be gawking at your bikini-covered breasts, and as you both clean up the table, he gets close to your ear, almost seductive as he does so, leaning down he goes and whispers:

"Vamos a cansarlos para tener un poco de tiempo a solas" (let's tire them up so we can have some alone time)

Needless to say is that your lover makes sure the two little demons are exhausted by the end of the day, running around the house, swimming on the pool, some football, jumping around and finishing the day with a meal that has their stomaches full as they fight against their eyes closing.

"Ve a la habitación, yo me encargo de ellos" (go to the bedroom, I take care of them)

You are quick on your feet as you enter the room, even if you know you have a while to prepare, you take a quick shower with a soap whose scent you know makes the midfielder go crazy. You don't bother with any makeup apart from some strawberry flavored lip balm that your lover goes absolutely feral for -years of experience have given you the knowledge that at the end you will always end up crying off any eye make up.

You wear the tiniest piece of lingerie you can find in your closet, don't bother with anything else as you know he will rip it away, just sit on the bed, waiting for him, looking pretty as he likes it.

The door almost slams open, a naughty expression on his face as he looks you up and down.

"Dios mío, no sabes lo mucho que extrañaba esto" (God, you have no idea how much I missed this)

He doesn't waste any time as he rips his shirt off, the sight of his chest have you sighing, a dumb smile taking over your face as you are face to face with his lower half, hands reaching up to him, one on his chest the other on the back of his neck, pulling him closer, his lips instantly on yours, his tongue down your throat.

You hand on his chest plays with the patch of hair there then goes lower, you feel his abs tense when your fingers graze over his v lines then to the happy trail.

You separate from him, looking into his lust filled eyes, your hands on his shorts and pulling them down, his cock almost hitting you as it bounces out from it's confinement, standing thick as always his balls full and precum bouncing from his tip.

"¿Ahora ves lo mucho que echaba esto de menos?" (you see now how much I missed this?)

You nod, hand reaching out to grab him, but he stops you, shaking his head.

"No puedo esperar más, necesito estar dentro tuyo" (I can't wait anymore, I need to be inside you)

A cheeky smile takes over your face, turning you both around so he is laying on the bed, your hips moving over his, his head falling back as he moans out, hands on your waist try to stop you but you deny him.

His tip does a delicious friction on your clit, he can feel how wet you are even with you panties denying him any entry.

He is frustrated, you both are really, your hips lift up your hand goes down to tease yourself, panties pushed aside, you line him up with your entrance and don't wait a moment to fall down on him, his cock instantly kissing your cervix and stretching you out to you limit.

You feel so full of him, your eyes glossed over, he knows how to work you, a strong grip on your waist as he moves you up and down.

The two of you are far too gone to keep the noises in, it's been far too long since the last time you found yourselves in this situation, you are far too sensitive, almost trembling you are whining, moaning, he fucks up into you and you can't help but groan at the slam of his balls against you, so full, neither will last long.

He sits up, you on his lap as he grinds up into you, his pace strong, fucking you roughly, not wanting to wait any longer for the extasis that you can both feel burning in your tummies, his face buried on your breasts as he places kisses on them over the thin fabric, a hand reaching to your back to let him see all of you.

He doesn't have the opportunity for it though, as over the loud noise of skin against skin, your ears catch the sound of your door creaking open, and with an agility that even impresses yourself, you are off his cock and pushing him down to cover yourselves.

"¿Mami, que están haciendo?" your four-year-old asks, curiosity on her eyes as her older brother stands behind her, a frown on his face. (mommy, what are you doing?)

"¿Papi te estaba haciendo daño?" that words have you both snapping up, tuning to share a look as you try to think about an answer. You always thought this type of situation was just one bad comedy shows added for drama, apparently it also can be true. (was daddy hurting you?)

"Obvio que no, amor. ¿Por qué dices eso?" (of course not, love. Why do you say that?)

"Escuche como golpes y a ti gritando" (I heard slapping sounds and you shouting)

Your face is red and you have to hit your partner's side as he snickers. You give him a look, and he knows it's up to him to fix everything.

"Mamá y yo solo estamos jugando, no hay nada que preocuparse, de verdad" (mom and I were only playing, nothing to worry about, really)

"¿Qué juego era ese?" you love your daughter, really, but sometimes her curiosity brings you real trouble. (what game was that?)

You look at each other, you clear out your throat "Un juego que las mamás y los papas juegan cuando se quieren mucho" (a game moms and dads play when they love each other a lot)

"¿Puedo yo jugarlo?" Pedri's eyes snap wide open. (can I play it?)

"¿Y tú con quien quieres jugarlo?" (and who do you want to play it with?)

"Pepi!"

"Quiero decir, no amor, solo nosotros los adultos podemos jugarlo" (I mean, no love, only us adults can play it)

"¿Qué edad tenemos que tener para jugar?" your son asks, he too quite curious apparently, your face is about to explode, giving them both a look. (what age do we have to be to play?)

"Muy mayores" you say "Ahora a vuestros cuartos que ahora voy, es muy tarde para que un par de granujas como vosotros estéis despiertos" (very old. Now go to your rooms I will be right behind, it's way too late for you two troublemakers to be awake)

Your kids, God bless them, listen to you and leave you and your lover alone, you turn to him with a pointed look.

"Tú y tu pequeño problema quédense aquí, ahora vuelvo" (you and your little problem stay here, I will be right back)

He groans as you sneakily pass your thumb over his tip, teasing him and walking off with a cheeky look, he drops down, desperate for you to come back as he glances to his member, still as hard, tall and thick as before

He knows that it's all fine for the night, but he really hopes your kids forget it all by the morning, or he won't be able to look them straight to the eye.

Next time he will make sure to lock the door, and he hopes you don't realise his small mistake when you come back, because his balls really need the release and you shouting at him won't give him that.

#barca #fc barca #barcelona #pedri #spanish nt #spain national team #pedri headcanon #spain nt #pedri imagine #pedri x reader #football imagine #football player #pedri smut #pedri x y/n

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workersolidarity · 2 months

Text

🇵🇸 🚨

INTERNATIONAL ORGANIZATIONS CALL FOR INVESTIGATION INTO MASS GRAVES, CIVIL DEFENSE WILL COOPERATE, SIGNS OF TORTURE ON BODIES IN GAZA

Gaza's Civil Defense ministry says it will cooperate with any independent investigation into the recent discovery of three mass graves containing hundreds of disfigured, decomposing bodies at the Nasser Medical Complex in Khan Yunis, in Gaza's south.

Mohammed al-Moghier, a member of the Palestinian Civil Defense, said his teams were prepared to compile an evidential report for an independent investigation in the crimes, telling reporters that "this can be the foundation for work to be conducted by an international investigation committee."

"We are ready to help their work in order to push the Israelis to refrain from committing crimes against people in Gaza,” al-Moghier is quoted as saying.

The horrific discovery was made following the withdrawal of Israeli occupation forces (IOF) from the Khan Yunis area, after which three mass graves were found in the courtyard of the hospital complex.

At least 392 decomposing corpses have been recovered from the three mass graves so far, with only a fraction having been identified at the time of publishing.

Meanwhile, the spokesperson for the United Nations Secretary General, Stephane Dujarric, told Al-Jazeera News that while the international organization is collecting information on the mass graves, a mandate from the UN's legislative body would be required before evidence could be taken into custody.

“We’ve called for an international investigation. How that will take place? It’s unclear at this time. There are certain parts of this organisation that have the authority to do that,” Dujarric said.

“In the meantime, it’s important that all forensic evidence be well preserved,” Dujarric added.

The horrific discovery of the three mass graves is only the start, large numbers of the recovered bodies show signs of torture, reports say that 10 bodies had their hands bound, while at least 20 of the bodies showed signs they were buried alive, according the findings of a preliminary investigation.

While the international community has showed disgust and horror at the discovery, human rights organizations are calling on the Israeli occupation to allow investigators into the Gaza Strip.

In comments published on Al-Jazeera News, Donatella Rovera, a senior advisor with Amnesty International said, “the expertise, the skills, the resources – such as the ability to carry out DNA tests – none of that is available [in Gaza], and to make matters worse, there is the constant bombardment."

“Where there is evidence of a crime committed yesterday, it may be destroyed by a bombardment committed today,” she added.

According to Amnesty International, human rights investigators haven't been allowed into Gaza for many years.

“Something can be done immediately. That is for the Israeli authorities to allow independent investigators in immediately. If they have nothing to hide, they should have no reason in preventing them getting into Gaza,” Rovera concluded.

#source1

#source2

#source3

#source4

#imagesource

@WorkerSolidarityNews

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pineappleciders · 1 year

Note

Could we get headcanons for how would it be being Team Craig beloved adopted child? Like- idk- reader is this sweet kid who wants everyone to be happy and then Craig and Those guys are like- the protective parents while Clyde is reader's adorkable big brother 😱

craig and those guys adopting a sweet reader who acts like their kid/little sibling; platonic headcanons

includes: craig, clyde, tolkien, jimmy, and tweek

A/N: i know tweek technically isn't apart of catg, but since he often is in fanon i decided to add him!! people r always debating whether jimmy or tweek is in craigs gang but why not both!!!!!!

personally i see tweek as the butters of catg. like he's there sometimes but not all the time ykwim

whenever craig and tweek get into a dispute it's like watching your parents argue

despite you being the same age as tolkien, your parents often leave you with him as your babysitter (your parents love him to death) and you two always end up playing games and eating snacks

they're kind of. confused about you. like craig might treat you like butters at first but gets berated by the rest for it once they all realized ur actually cool and not stuck-up

jimmy ruffles your hair and treats you like you're his little sibling, and goes 'oooooo' and asks constant questions if you have a crush on someone

if you're shorter than tweek he leans on your shoulder or head, because he knows it pisses you off. then he giggles deviously about it

craig is kind of. always trying to get your evil side out. like he's completely convinced you're not 100% angel and he tries to annoy you to get you to get angry

u and clyde hang out a lot. like you're always at each other's houses, people at school started to actually think you two were related

lots of video game nights. you all come to someones house (usually tolkiens because he's loaded) and play video games on the couch and in his room all night long. also lots of sleepovers

i feel like when ur choosing teams for a sport or a game, some of them are begging for you on their team and some of them are begging that you aren't on their team

jimmy, tolkien, and clyde want u on their team. craig does not. he doesn't because he thinks u suck (he doesn't mean it, he just wants to be a dick. unless you actually do suck)

with tweek it depends. like he might agree with craig and he might not. it really depends on what the thing you're doing is

clyde leans on your shoulder when you two are standing in the halls with a smug look on his face (he wants to embarrass you)

tolkien (and sometimes jimmy) always help you with studying and homework. like they'll teach you the entire subject and make sure you're prepared for the test

jimmy cracks (un)funny jokes to embarrass you in front of your friends

they get all pissy if someones annoying you. craig in particular is not afraid to get physical if you're getting bullied or something. he'll never admit it though

tweek likes to annoy you, but he's also probably one of the more sentimental ones (next to tolkien and jimmy). like he'll be there for you emotionally and stuff, even though he isn't always the best with feelings

jimmy is very encouraging. like if you're down or anxious about something he'll listen intently and give you the most motivational pep talk you've ever heard. he cares a lot and shows it with quality time and just being there!!!

tolkien is very good at listening. he might not understand everything you're going through, but he tries very hard to hear you out and give advice. he also reassures you that he's always there for you

craig isn't the best at showing his own emotions in the first place, so he's kinda. panicky if you're sad. he's learned a lot from tweek though, and will listen closely and try to validate what you say.

clyde doesn't always understand, but he tries. he'll listen to you talk and gives shitty advice, and is generally kinda knuckle-headed. he genuinely cares though

craig tells you about his silly little interests, and like forces you to play with stripe. he also rants to you about space and shit and you always fall asleep to it

whenever everyone falls asleep in the living room while playing video games, you're the one left awake, and you can't help but feel immense happiness at how peaceful they look.

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lyomeii · 1 year

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the mother (or at least the one I wish to had)

➤ warnings: yandere themes, platonic relationships, gn! reader with a hint of romance in Ijekiel and jennette part.

➤ request by anon! Lucas, Athanasia, ljekiel and Jennette with a mother reader Figure?

➤ a/n: a bunch of characters that need some affection :) sorry for not uploading as often I did since I got to do a test in the weekend. But I promise to post more soon as possible and maybe one day, the debut or die short will be released this year.

LUCAS

➤ you were kinda a caretaker of him after he was told to live a lonely life. as much you take care of him with such soft hands and a smile on your lips, lucas knows how better than become accustomed to your company.

➤ traveling to another universes, lucas make sure to bring you with him. he always says that you can’t be alone in your own since you are “too careless”, but in reality he truly loves spend time with you. he adores those moments when he takes a break from everything and you prepare a picnic with him.

➤ unsurprising, lucas got used to your presence in his life and began holding your hand whatever he walks out of the tower. many began to fear he easily could destroy the world if you ever suffered a tragic end.

➤ as much he start loving seeing you as maternal figure in his life, lucas knows that you are a human unlike him. he knows that one day, you will die and leave him alone just like the others.

➤ because of that, he decided to spend as much time as possible with you in order to make memories. initially, lucas wanted to make a spell to make you immortal, but he felt that would be quite selfish of him.

ATHANAISA

➤ her mother died on her birth and father completely ignored, leaving athanasia in the hands of the maids. her plan of making the maids favor her worked of course, and her primary victim of this was you.

➤ you are quite young compared to the others maids when you first pick her out from the cradle, no older than twenty years old. firstly, anathasia didn’t to be take care of you for being so younger, yet you quickly gained her affection when you took her to see the garden.

➤ many maids who work in her palace can hear and sometimes see how much you are about the little princess. some pity how the emperor never cared about athanasia, yet they all find harmonic how you take care of the little girl.

➤ sweet moments where your first saw her talk, craw, walk and much more made you feel like a proud mother. knowing that due to your influence made her become such a bright girl is enough to give yourself a smile. you hoped that athanasia will spend her life at your side.

➤ when claude finally recognize her as his daughter, you were one of the few maids that continue to take care of her. athanasia, in order to make you happy (and gain sweeties and chocolates), calls you mom when alone with you.

➤ claude is jealous how close you are to his daughter. firstly, he attempted to make you distance of athanasia, but after seeing his little girl cry over you changed his mind and you soon become her personal maid.

IJEKIEL and JENNETE

➤ a maid, that who you are inside the alpheus household, someone who have being taking care of the two little children since they were little.

➤ both ijekiel and jennete always looked up to you as their main caretaker, none for him had a mother to take of them and since duke alpheus works so much. you are the one who stay at their side mostly of the time.

➤ jennete was the first one who saw you as a mother. maybe because she was too naively as a young child or by the fact that you always stood by her side, listening to her words careful unlike many servants who pretended to hear her.

➤ (un)fortunately, Ijekiel became obsessed with you thanked to her. hearing how much you treated jennete with such delicate conditions and the many compliments he heard from others servants made him quite curious, so ijekiel quickly went to meet you.

➤ soon both the kids began spend their days with you. the entire household see how jennete and Ijekiel are like small duckling follow you whatever you go, some find it cute seeing how the two finally have someone to take care of them, others think that you take opportunity of them to gain extra money.

@lyomeii stuff || don’t repost

#yandere headcanon #yandere imagine #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere male #yandere female #yandere athanasia #yandere lucas #yandere ijekiel alpheus #yandere jennette #who made me a princess x reader #yandere who made me a princess #who made me a princess

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odinsblog · 3 months

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Donald Trump took the stage in Greensboro, N.C. last Saturday calling for rounding up millions of Latinos across America and putting them in mass detention camps as part of “the largest domestic deportation operation in American history.” Unfortunately, this kind of rhetoric has become so common among the MAGA Republican playlist that it’s tempting to see it as a joke. But that wasn’t just somebody’s racist grandfather running off at the mouth or a standup comedian with bad taste playing to the crowd. My parents and grandparents would have called it a dog whistle, but my generation should know it’s a bullhorn. But whatever you call it, it was calculated, drafted, tested and approved as part of the far-right Project 2025 plan to turn back the clock on civil rights, women’s rights, workers’ rights and democracy itself. It was the white Christian nationalist agenda on full public display in all its un-American glory and we can’t afford to take it lightly.

Now, if you haven’t heard about Project 2025, don’t feel bad. Most people haven’t. Founded in 2022 by the ultra-conservative Heritage Foundation, it’s an organization led by Trump insiders preparing for one nation under Trump if the twice impeached and four times indicted former president wins the November election and to call them dangerous is an understatement.

What do you think about overhauling federal law enforcement so that the Department of Justice and the FBI, designed to be independent and insulated from political influence, were controlled directly by a newly elected and emboldened President Trump so he could protect his minions from investigation, arrest and prosecution no matter how many laws they broke? Project 2025 loves the idea.

Want to bypass the Senate confirmation process and stop notifying Congress when we sell weapons to foreign governments? Project 2025 does. What about terminating every diversity, equity and inclusion program in the federal government? Project 2025 says right on. What do you think about invoking martial law, using the military as local law enforcement and locking up Trump opponents? Project 2025 calls that progress.

But how do they plan on doing all this? After all, the federal government is more than just one person in the Oval Office. Trump already learned that lesson when federal employees and even some of his own appointees refused to break the law just because he said so.

But Project 2025 has a solution to that roadblock. They call it Schedule F and it’s a plan to fire as many as 50,000 federal employees and replace them with dyed-in-the-wool MAGA fanatics who swear their loyalty not to America or the Constitution but to Donald J. Trump. They’re not even trying to keep it a secret. But why would they?

You see, Project 2025 isn’t confused about who they are. They’re the MAGA Manifesto committed to the unapologetic vision of right-wing nationalism and they don’t care who knows it. Let’s be honest, these guys are attacking President Biden for pushing “racial equity in every area of our national life, including in employment.” Is that supposed to be a bad thing? Are we supposed to think our president should not be fighting for equality and justice?

That’s what Project 2025 says. But that shouldn’t surprise us. After all, they don’t think folks who look like me are real Americans. Neither does Trump.

But they’re not clowns. They’re highly trained, well-funded political operatives dedicated to winning in November and remaking America in their white nationalist image. They’ve spent the past two years putting together a plan to do just that setting the highest stakes imaginable for this election.

(continue reading)

#politics #donald trump #republicans #fair housing act #project 2025 #schedule f #white supremacy #christian nationalism #heritage foundation #a second trump administration will be very very bad #maga manifesto

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dottores · 2 years

Text

ONWARD & UPWARD

pairings: cyno x fem!reader x tighnari, tartaglia x fem!reader

summary: the last thing you were supposed to do was fall in love. now a decision must be made—one that you are not yet prepared to deal with the consequences of.

genre: antagonist!reader, fatui!reader, canon divergence, strangers to lovers to enemies (cyno & tighnari), lowkey enemies/rivals to lovers to enemies (cyno), khaenri’ahn royal!reader (diamond pupil), childhood friends to fwb (tartaglia), right person wrong time (tartaglia), un(?)requited love (tartaglia), obsessive and v lowkey yandere behavior (tartaglia).

general warnings: fem!reader, heavy themes of betrayal, angst and romance, reader’s got some mental health issues made worse by delusions, khaenri’ah lore/theories implemented + original worldbuilding (especially for khaenri’ah—based off of old nordic religion/tradition/culture) reader has a scar + partially blind in one eye.

chapter specific warnings/notes: undertones of angst (tartaglia), that should be it actually, not a warning heavy chapter. next chapter we meet tighnari eheh. reblogs for boost very much appreciated

prologue -> masterlist -> next chapter

CHAPTER ONE. BLOOD MUST HAVE BLOOD

“We are owed blood.”

You could feel Pierro’s eyes boring into your back as you stared ahead at the Severoksa Palace, encased in layer upon layer of ice--the tomb that would be Rosalyne’s eternal resting place. You couldn’t help the rage that churned your stomach, you breathed slowly--in through your nose, out through your mouth, an old tactic that Pierro had drilled into you when it had become clear your temper would be an issue.

“And what would you suggest us do? Storm Tenshukaku and take on the Shogun herself?” Pierro’s voice was dry and cold, it tested every inch of your self control.

In through your nose, out through your mouth.

“Don’t be ridiculous. That would be as if we took the life of Liyue’s Yuheng and they came for Her Majesty’s life as reparations. Blood for blood is always to be of equal value,” you told him, turning away from the window, away from the sight of Rosalyne’s crypt, to steady your gaze onto Pierro, whose visible eye was already trained on you.

“And I suppose you already have a life in mind?”

“Rosalyne was the Eighth, the one who had taken it upon her shoulders to be our sword and diplomat in foreign lands… A sort of… general in her own right.” the words tasted bitter on your tongue--the past tense unfamiliar and unwelcome.

“The Kujou Clan’s tengu,” Pierro knew who you were referring to immediately. “The Shogunate’s military general.”

You hummed in response, “Perhaps not a fair trade in power, but a fair trade in station… I believe it’ll be the best we can get.”

Pierro’s gaze drifted to the chess board. “Knight to H3,” he said, and you watched as the piece skidded across the board until it was sat on the square. “Check.”

Your lips twisted down as he backed you into the corner, “King to H1,” you replied sharply, watching as the piece slid to the spot you had spoken, the corner of the board--a deep set feeling of disappointment flooded your bones. You already knew what his next move would be, his bishop looming across the board, ready to take down your king now that his knight had put your king into position.

Pierro clicked his tongue sharply, “Bishop to B7. Checkmate.”

Your king toppled. You didn’t speak for a moment, staring heavily down at the board, wondering what you should have done differently.

“You allowed yourself to get backed into a corner again,” Pierro chided as the pieces moved themselves back into their starting position. Your eye twitched at the rather obvious comment, and you bit back the sharp retort that laid on the tip of your tongue. “You will continue to lose until you’ve learned to get yourself out of these situations.”

“I try-”

“You do not try,” Pierro interrupted you, rising to his feet and motioning for you to follow. You let out a sigh, wrapping your furs around your shoulders as you followed the older man out of the warm study and into the chilly halls of the Zima Palace. “You let yourself be pushed back hoping for a later opening that you can work with, an opening that is not necessarily guaranteed. You cannot rely on that.”

You bristled, eyeing Pierro from the corner of your left eye, “I wouldn’t do that in real battle, obviously. You know how I fight, I-”

“I am not talking about battle,” Pierro said firmly. “Her Majesty intends on sending you down to Sumeru to oversee Dottore’s research, make sure that he keeps on track. I need to know that you can be trusted to do what’s necessary, that you won’t hesitate to take action or make foolish mistakes.”

Your brows furrowed, barely stopping yourself from faltering midstep as you glanced at Pierro, processing what exactly he had said. “To oversee Dottore?” you questioned. “I don’t understand, of all the harbingers, Dottore is-”

“-of the most loyal, yes,” Pierro interrupted, to your displeasure. You frowned deeply as he turned down another hall, moon reflecting through the large windows, rattling against the bitter wind outside. “Dottore is similar to Tartaglia in a number of ways. Both are loyal to Her Majesty… to an incredible degree; but both allow themselves to get sidetracked. Tartaglia by battle and bloodshed, the prospect of a challenge, and Dottore by his research. We cannot afford that, not now.”

“Much like dogs, really,” you noted to yourself. “Loyal to its owner but prone to chasing squirrels when let loose.”

Pierro let out a huff akin to a laugh, “Don’t let them hear you make that comparison.”

“So what do you want me to do with him?” you finally asked after a moment of silence.

“Just keep an eye out. Her Majesty has sanctioned some of his research--in particular, there’s going to be a project with the Balladeer, and Dottore mentioned trying to get his hands on that test subject of his that escaped two or three years ago, apparently they have eyes on her in the Avidya Forest of Sumeru. Make sure he keeps sight of our overall goals.”

“A project with Scaramouche? Escaped test subject?” you were lost, and though you hated to admit it, you knew it wasn’t your fault that they hadn’t briefed you on any of this.

“Have Dottore explain the situation with the Balladeer when you arrive in Sumeru,” Pierro waved off the question, and you noticed how Pierro would not refer to Scaramouche by name--you wondered if he was still angry over the events at Inazuma. “I believe the test subject went by the name of Collei, a young girl with Eleazar, younger than you--Dottore was using her for the experiments on Archon Residue and had been making significant progress before she managed to escape.”

You nearly scoffed, “I hope he doesn’t expect me to play bounty hunter for him trying to hunt down the girl he lost.”

“I’m sure he will ask it of you.”

You rolled your eyes as the two of you continued down the hall toward the library, and you wondered why exactly Pierro was bringing you there—he rarely ever came to this wing of the palace.

Your shoes clicked against the stone floors of the palace, the torches on the wall the only source of heat and light, shifting in the draft and flickering in a way that cast moving shadows, making you distinctly uncomfortable.

Your head snapped to the side at a particularly quick moving shadow, and while you knew it was unreasonable—an illusion created by the flame and your impaired vision, you would have heard if someone was really there but you couldn’t help the way your heart rate spiked.

A heavy hand fell to your shoulder, there is nothing there, Pierro told you silently, and you felt hot embarrassment hitting you hard at the lapse of judgment.

Pierro did not bring any further attention to what had happened, instead pushing open the large double doors to the library to let you walk in. You stepped inside the room, letting your furs slip off as the warmth of the fireplace hit you.

You walked into the center of the room, eyes drifting around the walls of old books and scrolls before you turned on your heel to look at Pierro, who had let the door swing shut behind him with a rather loud thud. You watched carefully as he turned toward the left, walking over to a desk.

You frowned deeply as Pierro pulled out a key and unlocked one of the drawers, and you had half a mind to ask him what he was doing, but you assumed from the expression on his face that he would not take kindly to interruption.

So you waited, no matter how much your mind and body itched in anticipation.

The parchment he pulled out was old and yellowed and half-falling apart, your brows knitted together. While you did not know exactly what was in his hands, the sigil on the back of it was unmistakable--the emblem of the Eclipse Dynasty, your family.

You inhaled sharply, unconsciously taking a step forward. Pierro’s eyes finally flickered up, landing on you.

“The weight your bloodline bears is a heavy one,” there was an odd tone to his voice, a faraway look in his eyes as his gaze drifted up toward the chandelier in the middle of the room. “One too heavy for most to handle.”

A part of you wondered if he was speaking from experience… or perhaps not first-hand experience, but second--you knew Pierro did not share blood with you, but he seemed to have some sort of connection with the Eclipse Dynasty. Pierro never delved too deep into discussion about his life in Khaenri’ah prior to the Cataclysm, sometimes you would be able to pull slivers of information from between the lines when he spoke--implications that he had been a major player in the court, had direct relationships with your ancestors. His eyes were often sad as they landed on you when he thought you weren’t paying attention, and you wondered if you reminded him of someone from back then.

“When you return from Sumeru, I will tell you all I know about Khaenri’ah before the Cataclysm… and during, and how the Eclipse Dynasty found themselves at the center.”

Your eyes widened, lips parting to speak but no words left your lips.

Pierro leveled a steady gaze on you. “The real war is to start soon. Sumeru will be the easy part, prove yourself there so we can begin the final preparations.”

---

“You’re leaving.”

Your gaze flicked up to the figure leaning against your doorframe--orange hair damp and matted to his forehead, eyes rather dull, Tartaglia had seen better days, that was for sure. You wondered if he had forced his way through the snowstorm just to see you before you left. His fingers were red and stiff, his cheeks flushed, he was not wearing adequately warm clothes to travel through the storm.

You sighed, placing your clothes down and walking over to the chair in the corner of your room. You picked the quilted blanket off of it and motioned for Tartaglia to come into the room. He was unusually silent as he made his way across the hardwood floor, soggy pants dripping steadily. He took a seat on the chair in front of the fireplace and you wrapped the quilt blanket around him, pressing the back of your hand against his cheek. He instinctively leaned into your touch, you pulled away.

“You are a fool, Ajax,” you murmured, returning back to the bag you were trying to pack. “Coming out here in this weather, dressed like that. What were you thinking?”

You could hear the chair grate against the ground behind you, and you turned to look over your left shoulder, catching sight of Tartaglia still sitting, knees tucked to his chest beneath the blanket as he watched you.

“I wanted to see you before you left,” he said quietly. “Is that so wrong of me?”

“It was unnecessary,” you replied, folding a thin pair of pants and top up and placing them at the top of the bag before fastening the clasp. “I’ll be back in a few weeks.”

“A few weeks is a long time,” Tartaglia pointed out, head tilted to the side as he looked up at you.

“You were gone for longer while in Liyue,” you waved off, picking up the travel bag and placing it on the dresser near the door to your room.

“And it was hellish,” Tartaglia countered, and you looked over your shoulder to study him, gaze heavy.

“It shouldn’t have been,” you said, and his gaze directed down toward the floor instantly, the light expression on his face disappearing. Guilt tugged at your chest, but only for a moment before you pushed it away. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“I want to go with you,” Tartaglia admitted. “You’ve never visited any of the other nations, I-”

“Do you think I’m incapable of handling myself in a foreign land?” you asked rigidly, an unwelcome defensiveness pooling in your lower stomach, hot and uncomfortable. No one thinks you’re good enough to do it on your own.

“That’s not what I meant,” Tartaglia sighed. “I just wanted to be there with you when you experienced it all the first time. That’s all.”

The pool dissolved, your shoulders slumped. You should have known better than to think that of him--Tartaglia had always been the one that advocated for you the most when others thought you weren’t ready yet. He fought tooth and nail for you to come with him to Liyue but Pierro had shot it down.

The air was tense around the two of you, taut and uneasy. You swallowed thickly, “Well perhaps if you hadn’t unleasahed an old god onto Liyue, Her Majesty would have considered letting you leave with me,” you said lightly.

Tartaglia watched you for a moment but then his lips twisted up into a familiar crooked smile and the heavy air dissipated, “I was just trying to fulfill Her Majesty’s wishes,” he said.

“I don’t recall Her Majesty sanctioning the release of Osial?” you shot back and Tartaglia’s smile widened, eyes bright as he looked up at you.

“I thought it would be an effective way of drawing out Morax, which is what she told me to do,” Tartaglia defended. “So, in a way-”

“Was it effective?”

Tartaglia deflated, “No.”

You let out a puff of laughter, “And I assume that you wanting to… draw out Morax had nothing to do with your own desire to face an Archon?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Tartaglia lied through his teeth as he stood up with a grin, folding the blanket you had placed around his shoulders and laying it back down where he had been sitting. “I would never be so arrogant as to challenge an Archon.”

“Of course not,” you drawled sarcastically, eyes flickering up as Tartaglia drew closer to you, chest mere inches from yours. You tilted your head up and Tartaglia leaned down, lips grazing yours for just a second.

“You don’t believe me?” he asked quietly.

“I know very well that your lust for battle knows no bounds,” you responded, and Tartaglia smiled, a wide, sharp smile that you had become accustomed to seeing all of those times that the two of you had trained together.

“Fair point,” he murmured before leaning down just a bit more to capture your lips in his. Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of his lips sliding slowly against yours--they were still cold from the blizzard, and tasted faintly of juniper berries, a familiar taste that set any nerves you might have had at ease.

You let out a sigh against his lips, a soft hum as one of his hands cupped the back of your head, fingers intertwining with your hair. You knew you probably shouldn’t be doing this--and not just because you had to be up early to start your journey down to Sumeru. But you couldn’t help the way your lips instinctually moved against his—a slow dance that the two of you had mastered years ago.

Tartaglia’s free hand slid down to your waist, pressing against your lower back to pull your body flush against his. Your hands rested on his chest, lips parting for him as his tongue swiped against your bottom lip. And you knew you should push him away, stop it before it got too far again, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to, just like you never had been before.

It wasn’t fair to him, the thought laid heavy on your shoulders, almost enough to make you push him away but not enough. It wasn’t fair to either of you, you wanted to scream, but you shoved the thought away as soon as it rose to the forefront of your mind.

Fairness had nothing to do with it--you both had known what you were getting into when you had made your home with the Fatui, and you knew what that meant for… whatever this arrangement you had with him was.

Perhaps fairness did have something to do with it. You supposed you were being unfair to him, you were being selfish--you had always been selfish, ever since Pierro had brought you in and you got a taste of life with less burdens on your shoulders. Snezhnaya was cold and dark, perhaps not quite as dark as Khaenri’ah was but you had known even since you were a child that you were not a creature that thrived in the dark, even if it did cling to you like a second skin.

Tartaglia was warm, and bright--perhaps not as much as you needed, but enough to push away the oppressive air that weighed too heavy around you, even if only momentarily.

A part of you wondered if he craved the dark and the cold as much as you craved the light and the warmth.

A thick feeling settled in your chest, one of longing and perhaps something a bit warmer.

You pushed it away.

You did not love him. You were not in a relationship with him--he was not your lover and you were not his. You were two people who found warmth in an eternal winter in each other’s arms, and that was all.

There was no room for weakness in Snezhnaya and there was no place for love in the Fatui. War loomed ahead like a dark cloud, and you could not afford to have any vulnerabilities when the rain finally began to fall.

A dark feeling twisted your gut, and you pressed your palm flat against his chest, tilting your head back. Stop, you didn’t have to say it outloud for him to know what you were trying to say and you were grateful for it. The warm feeling that had spread throughout you when his lips had met yours disappeared in an instant, you ignored the hurt expression that had briefly flashed across his face before he had managed to shove it away.

“How are your siblings?” you asked quietly, and the silence that reigned around the two of you was not a comfortable one--your rejection still dense in the air, weighing on the two of you.

“They’re okay,” Tartaglia said after clearing his throat, voice rough. “Tonia sent me some pastries to give to you the next time I saw you… I forgot them back home. Anthon keeps asking when you’ll come back around, I swear that kid feels some sort of hero worship toward you.”

You snorted lightly, eyes drifting around your room to try to figure out if you had forgotten anything. “Tell him the next time I’m around, I’ll give him some more sparring tips.”

Tartaglia scowled, just as you expected. “I can’t believe he refuses to listen to me, acts as if I don’t know what I’m doing,” he muttered petulantly.

You shot him a grin. “Can you blame him for not wanting to go to the second best option?”

Tartaglia gaped, spluttering in response to your words and the reminder of his many defeats at your hand, heat visibly rising to his face, but you only laughed shaking your head.

“I need to try to sleep,” you said quietly. “Leaving early in the morning so I can make as much ground tomorrow before night falls. Want to at least get out of Snezhnaya, into Fontaine.”

And maybe you should have waited a bit to tell him that, because at once the tense atmosphere returned, the bleak expression that he had arrived wearing once again washed over his face, and you wanted to say something, give him some sort of assurance, but there wasn’t really anything for you to say.

“Can I stay the night?” Tartaglia asked, and you were sure that he hated how his voice cracked. He hated signs of weaknesses almost as much as you did. He cleared his throat again, eyelashes brushing his cheeks as he shut his eyes in embarrassment. “The storm--it’s dark, would be too dangerous to walk home in.”

Tartaglia had never been afraid of danger before, he was the person that ran headfirst into it at the first sign of a challenge, but there was a sort of pleading look swimming beneath the blue of his eyes that begged you not to call him out on the lie.

“Yeah.” you said, keeping up the illusion that the storm was the only reason for him to stay--it was easier for you to justify in your head. As if on cue, your window rattled against the bitter winds, and you could see the ice creeping up the glass. “The storm is bad.”

Tartaglia’s shoulders slumped in relief as he removed the thin jacket covering his body. You supposed that if he really were only staying because of the weather, he would be sleeping on the floor or the settee, but you knew he would not.

He’s your closest friend, you explained silently, why would you leave him in discomfort on the floor or settee?

The argument was weak, and you knew it, but you pushed the thoughts away as Tartaglia slipped beneath the covers with you, an arm hanging loose around your waist. The warmth against your back was familiar, but you tried to pretend that it wasn’t.

“Be safe down south,” Tartaglia murmured. “The rest of Teyvat… It’s not like Snezhnaya.”

You wanted to spit out a retort--that Pierro had prepared you for this, that you knew what you were doing, but you bit your tongue, never having quite heard Tartaglia speak in this sort of tone before.

“What do you mean?”

“We’re fighters,” he said, and you swallowed thickly as he rested his forehead against your shoulder blade, hair brushing your bare skin. “The people down south… they’re politicians, schemers. I was out of my league, I messed up more than Her Majesty and Pierro know. Not just the situation with Osial.”

You wondered just how much it took for him to admit that he was outmatched--Tartaglia had always been prideful and confident, raring for a challenge. He had mellowed once he had returned from Liyue, and you had assumed it was because of the failure he faced down south but you wondered if it ran deeper than that.

“It wasn’t even just the politics,” Tartaglia sighed heavily, warm breath fanning against your skin. “I lost a fight to a traveler. I had only ever lost to you before it was an… unwelcome feeling, I guess.”

“A traveler?” you questioned, though you were pretty sure you knew exactly who he was talking about--the odd blonde haired boy that Rosalyne had told you about after her time in Mondstadt… the same one that ended up getting her killed by the Raiden Shogun.

Tartaglia picked up on the underlying tone. “He’s a kid, younger than us. He’s not bad, he took care of Teucer when he escaped on that ship a few months ago… He’s just nothing I’ve seen before. Strong, a fighting style I’ve never encountered, could wield elements without a vision. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he were from another realm altogether.”

“Maybe he is,” you considered, trying to push away the spite and jealousy that ate at your mind. Wield elements without a vision, without consequence, while you had to-

Tartaglia’s voice drew you out of your spiraling thoughts. “Don’t pit yourself against unknown enemies, and be careful in Sumeru with the scholars, they’re just as bad as-”

“Ajax,” you said quietly, cutting him off. “Have some faith, Pierro has been preparing me for this for years.”

Tartaglia pressed his lips against your shoulder, a fond gesture that maybe you should have moved away from but you couldn’t bring yourself to. You felt his lips tug up into a small smile against your skin.

“I know,” he said. “I’ll always have faith in you.”

---

The snowstorm had only barely let up. The wind whipped harsh against your face, snow stinging your skin. You tugged your hood up higher, the fur shielding you from the majority of the battering.

You hesitated as you looked down the steps of the Zima Palace, wondering if you should go back in and wake Tartaglia up so you could say goodbye for real, but you decided against it. You had woken up late enough already, you had to get moving.

Just as you were about to take your first step, someone cleared their throat from behind you. You frowned as you turned around, wondering if Tartaglia had woken up or Pierro had one last thing to tell you before you left, but your eyes shot open in surprise once your gaze landed on the figure standing behind you.

“Your Majesty,” your voice was little over a breath as you went to fold over into a bow but a slender hand caught your shoulder before you could, forcing you to stand upright. Your throat spasmed as you swallowed thickly, looking up to meet the Tsaritsa’s eyes as her gaze trailed over you, an emotion you couldn’t quite decipher painting her face.

“You will do well,” she said quietly, furs hanging over her shoulders and wavy hair laying still down to her ankles, unaffected by the wind howling around the two of you. “You always have.”

Your lips parted, words on the tip of your tongue that you couldn’t push out, but even if you did, you supposed it wouldn’t have mattered because as soon as she had finished speaking, she was gone as quick as she had arrived--disappearing in a flurry of snow.

You stood there for a moment, heart beating rapidly in your chest as you tried to process what had just happened.

It had been a long time since the Tsaritsa had come to speak to you face-to-face. As the years drew on, she had become more hardened and recluse, over the past few only willing to speak to Pierro of all of the Fatui’s higher ranking members. The people say that she had lost her love for them, refusing to show her face to the smallfolk, but you knew it wasn’t true. If it was, the storms that battered the cities and towns of Snezhnaya would be a lot more deadly as she wouldn’t be wasting her time buffering them.

You weren’t sure what it was that kept her locked away when years ago she had been quite the opposite. A part of you wondered if it were fear that was beginning to creep in now that the Fatui’s plans were finally set in motion--fear that she was drawing her people into an unwinnable war against the heavens, fear that all of the destruction she had been desperate to avoid had become inevitable because of no one but herself.

You supposed it was a valid fear, the Tsartisa loved like no other, and the love she felt for all of her people had always been the strongest. But there was no reason to fear--the Fatui would seize authority from the gods and build a new world in the ashes of the old one, a world where no nation would have to fear meeting the same fate that your home had. You swore it. And it didn't matter what you had to do in order to fulfill your promise.

---

wordcount: 4.6k

reblogs & feedback greatly appreciated

-- please do not nitpick tiny mistakes or stuff like that, i'd like feedback on plot/world building/characterization & eventually character development

#genshin x reader #genshin smut #cyno x reader #cyno smut #tighnari x reader #tighnari smut #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #tartaglia smut #childe smut #cyno x you #tartaglia x you #tighnari x you #childe x you

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ataldaprotagonista · 16 days

Text

tw: kuku tristonho

você e kuku

Duro...

- Vida não fica assim - você falou passando os braços ao redor de seu namorado, Esteban Kukurizca.

Duas semanas atrás, mais ou menos, ele fez um teste para participar de um novo filme da HBO Max e esta super empolgado com tudo isso. Até te levou pra jantar de tão confiante...

Já hoje, uma hora atrás, especificamente, ele recebeu uma ligação de seu agente informando que ele havia sido recusado pro papel. Kuku ficou bem abalado, você estava no mercado bem na hora e ele te ligou logo em seguida.

- Amor? - você ouviu a voz trêmula do outro lado da linha e pesou que alguém tinha morrido, ou algo assim.

Esteban era, sim, uma pessoa emotiva... chorava em filmes de romance, chorava quando você fazia alguma supresa espetacular para ele, chorava com jornais mostrando injustiças no mundo. Ele era uma das almas mais puras que você conhecia e amava. E não queria que nada no mundo o ferisse, o magoasse e muito menos o fizesse chorar.

- O quê aconteceu, mi corazón? - você respondeu de imediato colocando uns chocolates na cestinha do mercado.

- P-pode voltar pra casa rapidinho?

- Posso sim, vou passar as comprar e ja já chego aí... - ouviu ele fungando - O que foi?

- Quando você chegar eu conto.

Você bufou irritada mas ele logo desligou. Passou as compras, levou pro carro, dirigiu até o apartamento em que vocês moravam e tudo isso só pensava no que poderia ter acontecido.

Desde a vó dele ter morrido, até um vídeo fofo de gatinho.

Assim que entrou em casa deixou as compras na pia e foi correndo para sala para encontrar seu amorzinho todo enrolado na coberta em cima do sofá, sentou bem a sua frente e começou a fazer carinho em seu cabelo.

Ele amava seus carinhos.

- O quê foi?

Ele afastou as lágrimas e você notou seu rosto mais avermelhado e um pouquinho inchado.

Ele chorou por bastante tempo.

- E-eu não passei.

- No teste? - ele fez que sim - Relaxa, querido. Ta tudo bem...

- Essa podia ser - fungou de novo - A mudança de chave nas nossas vidas, nena.

- Chega pra lá - ele encostou na pontinha do sofá te dando espaço para deitar também, você o fez e ficou agarradinha com ele, principalmente quando Esteban passou a coberta sobre seu corpo - Escuta - passou a mão no rosto dele - Você é um ator incrível, Esteban. Vai brilhar muito ainda... não é por quê foi aceito nesse filme, que vai ser recusado em todos os outros...

- Eu sou um merda, amor. O pior ator do mundo.

- Não, não e não. Já já algum diretor de casting vai ver seu valor, bebê. Vai perceber o quão foda você é, não só como ator, mas como ser humano. O mundo vai conhecer Esteban Kukurizca - ele soltou um sorrisinho fofo, você aproveitou para dar um beijinho na ponta do nariz cheio de sardinhas dele - Só não me abandona, nem me troca pelas suas fãs.

- Jamais, mi chiquita. Te amo, te quiero para sempre - ele te deu um beijo e encostou o nariz no seu pescoço.

Vocês ficaram assim por um tempo, só ouvindo a respiração um do outro.

- Vamos fazer assim, vou colocar água esquentar pra fazer um purê de batatas com carne de panela, enquanto isso você vai entrando no banho... Vou cuidar de você, o quê acha?

Esteban sempre cuidava de você, era o mínimo que poderia dar em troca. O mais velho estava quase pegando no sono, mas abriu os olhos deu um selinho e respondeu um breve "Sim". Preguiçosamente levantaram do sofá, lá da cozinha ouviu o barulho do chuveiro. Cortou e preparou a carne bem temperada, colocou na panela de pressão e deixou as águas para cozinhar a batata no fogo.

Tirou as roupas no corredor mesmo e entrou no banheiro. Admirou seu namorado pelo espelho, lindo demais todo molhado, mas pera... ele estava chorando?

- Amor? - ele não respondeu e você se juntou a ele debaixo da água quente, deitou a cabeça nas costas dele e passou os braços por sua cintura. Deu beijinhos em suas costas e fez um carinho suave.

- Eu sou horrível, nena. - você começou a se sentir mal por ele. Como Kuku não se via como você o via? Ele era... perfeito. Amoroso, inteligente, divertido, companheiro, um ótimo profissional, bonito... Ele dorava quando você fazia suas piadas sem graça, por quê não tentar alegrá-lo com algo sem noção?

- Não é, vida! Por favor, pare de ser duro consigo mesmo, Esteban.... você tem que ser é duro dentro de mim - ele virou para você de supetão e... GARGALHOU!

- Como é?

- É isso mesmo que eu disse, tem que ser duro dentro de mim - ele riu de novo e passou os braços por você, abraçando a sua cabeça. Deu uns beijos na sua testa e riu.

- Você não existe, amor.

Você ergueu a cabeça, mesmo presinha em seus braços fortes, e olhou para ele. Lindo demais. Kukurizca abaixou a cabeça e deu um selinhos nos seus lábios. Selinho esse que foi evoluindo para um beijo de verdade... com língua e intensidade.

Ele gemeu contra sua boca e você sentiu uma coisinha (coisinha foi maldade para o tamanho daquela pica) ficando dura ali embaixo.

Ele agarrou seus seios sentindo seus mamilos duros e logo você desceu as mãos pela barriga de Estban chegando em seu pau.

Sim, em pouco tempo ele estaria duro dentro de você.

E sua boceta sabia disso e mal podia esperar.

Não queria tantas preliminares assim, queria seu namorado de fodendo forte debaixo do chuveiro quente.

- Vida - ele gemeu quando você passou os braços pelo pescoço dele - Não quer que eu chupe você antes... sabe que gosto de te fazer gozar primeir- - cortou ele com um beijo, aquilo foi tudo para Esteban que te pegou no colo, suspendeu no ar e direcionou o pau para sua entrada - Sempre pronta pra mim...

- Sempre - você confirmou e se abaixou sentindo aquela invasão gostosa e cheia de tesão.

Você sentiu suas costas gelarem contra a parede do chuveiro, trouxe mais emoção para aquela rapidinha. Kuku metia forte e gemia contra seu pescoço, ele amava te foder, não importava o lugar.

Era sempre incrível ter o pau dele invadindo sua boceta encharcada. Ele fodia e você apertava o pau dele, deixando-o maluquinho.

Você sentiu cada movimento, cada metida, cada gemido... e ele também, mas só gozou depois de você.

Suas pernas desceram e ficaram abraçados por bastante tempo.

- Obrigada, nena... estava precisando disso. - o das sardinhas encostou a testa na sua, ainda controlando as respirações. Você ia responder, mas sentiu um cheiro de queimado entrando pela porta.

- A CARNE - saiu correndo, molhada, pelada e molinha pela foda atrás daquela panela de pressão. Ouviu a risada do mais velho para trás e sabia que estava tudo bem.

Dois dias depois ele recebeu uma ligação do agente dizendo que o responsável por anunciar se a pessoa havia passado ou não no teste se confundiu. Ele tinha, de fato, passado no teste. Seria o protagonista do filme!

Claro que vocês comemoraram do jeitinho de vocês... ele deixou de ser duro consigo mesmo e sim, duro dentro de você.

#esteban kukuriczka #esteban kukuriczka x reader #lsdln cast #lsdln imagine #lsdln #lsdln fanfic #lsdln smut #enzo vogrincic #enzo vogrincic x reader

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