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#but it's here. and there's not backing out now <3
chuluoyi · 2 days
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。.*。☆゚ 🕰️ 03.12 a.m
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tw: pregnancy. just a little something based on ask~ gojo annoys you on daily basis, so now you return the favor and he can't refuse it bc you're his baby mama😋
a part of gojo's love entries
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“satoru— your baby is hungry,” you pouted, poking his cheek repeatedly. “sa-to-ru!!”
it was 3 in the morning, and ideally, you would have been sleeping... only that suddenly you were awoken by rumbles from your growing belly.
yet your husband was still sound asleep without any care in the world, prompting you to poke him until you succeeded in making him hear you out.
satoru begrudgingly cracked his eyes open, still having his face tucked under the blanket and yawning. “ngh, sweets… what is it?”
his sleepy voice was thick, low and raspy. usually you’d swoon and leave a hickey or two on his neck but not now, as the overwhelming hunger made you almost curl.
“baby is craving mochi,” you said, eyes shining up to him ever so innocently. “get it for me, satoruuu.”
“oh?” if he wasn’t awake before, now he was after hearing your nagging tone drawling his name. he faced you and drew you closer. “what do you want again, hmm?”
“ice cream mochi!!”
“oooh that.” satoru scratched his head at the memory of him eating the last of it yesterday. “but we ran out of them, sweetheart… wait till morning, yeah? i’ll go to market to get some.”
“but...”
“can’t baby wait a few more hours, hmm?”
“no! want it— now!”
satoru blinked at your insistence. you looked positively adorable while sulking at him too.
“why mochi all of sudden, huh?” he decided to humor you. “you used to say they taste bland.”
“that’s because of your sperm infecting me,” you sullenly accused. “and don’t pretend you haven’t been feeding me mochi for weeks. baby likes it more than i thought.”
“hey! don’t bash my sperm! they did no wrong and completed the deed splendidly!”
“you’re just a one-time donor, don’t be smug.”
he whined and you huffed, before suddenly your stomach grumbled loudly and you curled up. “mmhm.”
“hey… what’s wrong?” satoru quickly sat up and placed his hand on your baby bump. “really hungry? wait, i’ll get you something to nibble on first.”
he rummaged through his work uniform and found several bite-sized chocolate bars he brought around, and unwrapped the foil. “here.”
you immediately devoured the treat to sate your hunger, but still, your baby longed for more—
“mochi…” you mumbled despondently, your expression turning heartbroken. and one second later satoru realized how much he wanted to squeeze your cheeks, and relented.
“okay, okay, sweets~” he gave your head several comforting pats, making you look up. “i’ll go and get the mochi, yeah? you stay put and wait for me, 'kay?”
“yay.” a little smile bloomed in your face and satoru chuckled, finding you so unbearably endearing.
and so, for you, he ventured out to the closest 24-hour convenience store, picking up some ice cream mochi along with other treats to replenish your stock, before teleporting back home.
he was expecting that you'd still be all sulky while waiting for him, but instead, he found you peacefully asleep, hogging his pillow.
each breath that caused your chest to rise and fall made you appear all the more vulnerable and soft in his eyes.
you looked so irrevocably precious to him. his sweet little wife... in that moment, satoru felt like he was the luckiest man alive, getting to have you as his.
“you naughty girl.” he let out an amused laugh before reclaiming his spot next to you. the hold you had over him— you made him go through the cold night air, and now you were monopolizing his pillow and he had to resume sleeping without one at all.
and yet all he could feel was love. for you and your baby, as he pulled you close to his chest.
“both of you sure love teaming up against me, huh?”
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My Girl: Lando Norris
Formula One Masterlist
word count: 473
description: You have a rough day at work and Lando is here to remind you that your his girl <3
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Lando and Max had been streaming since Lando was bored and had time to kill before y/n got home from work. 
"Hey Lando, where's your girl at?" Max asked as they waited for another game to load up. 
"Oh she's at work, she should be home in the next hour or so depending on the numbers." He said. 
"Oh yeah that's right, I don't know why I asked that. Do you think she'll be up for some games when she gets home?" Max asked. 
"Probably depending on how she feels." He said as his phone lit up with a text with him making him frown. 
My Girl ❤️️: I know you're streaming, but I need you. Can you step out for a minute?
"Hey chat, I need step away for a few minutes, but Max will keep you entertained." Lando said ripping off his headset to go find you. 
He was barely out of the door when he felt you crash into him nearly knocking him over. He immediately knew something was wrong when he felt her shoulders start to shake, making him hold her tighter. 
"I'm sorry to take you away from your stream....I just had a really bad day at work and I desperately needed a hug from you and few minutes to break down." You said through tears. 
"hey hey you look at me." He said titling your chin so you could look at him. 
"Don't ever apologize for needing me, you're my girl, if you're having a bad or hell even a good day and just want to be with then tell me and I'll drop everything and be there with you. You're my beautiful, strong girl and I'll always drop everything to be there for you, okay?" He asked placing a kiss on your forehead. 
"Okay." You said taking a deep breath trying to calm your nerves. 
"I love you sweet girl."He said pressing a kiss to your lips. 
"I love you Lan. Do you think I could sit with you while you game?" You asked him.
"Of course whatever my girl wants." He said smiling at you. 
You guys made you into his gaming room where he sat down in his chair first and then pulled you into his lap. 
"Hey guys, sorry about that but I'm back and I have my girl here with me now." He said leaning down and pressing a kiss to your head. 
You spent the rest of the evening curled up in Lando's lap enjoying the safety and comfort he brought you after a long and exhausting day. By the end of the night you were even playing a few games with Lando and Max, and interacting with chat much happier than you were when you came home.
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luveline · 3 days
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if you are looking for spencer and bombshell requests, what about the first time a girl flirts with spencer after they start dating, but bombshell is fully secure because she knows her worth and understands that he’s a catch? if you need more ideas i can squeeze my brain really hard
love ur brain pls keep squeezing it <3 fem!reader
You’re the cheesy girlfriend no one expects you to be. You change your phone contact for Spencer to ‘My Sweet Boyfriend’ with a heart, you hold his hand in stupid places (though you’d done that before, sometimes), you bring him coffee, you fluster when he kisses your cheek no matter your disposition —you're overwhelmed in the honeymoon phase, and everybody’s surprised. 
“That’s not very cool of you,” Morgan says, having noticed your ducked head, your smile dripping with a private pleasure and your cheek still shining with Spencer’s quick kiss. He’s gone to find plastic cutlery. 
“I’m not that cool when it comes to Spencer,” you say. 
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing.” 
Morgan is as pleased for you both finally getting together as anyone, even if he finds it foreign. It is weird to suddenly be openly in love with each other, and likely stranger for the team to see you in anything that isn’t total calm collection. 
“He’s so lovely.” 
“Yeah, I know,” Morgan says, more earnest now as he slaps a rolled sandwich down in front of you. “He’s a catch. I asked for no mayonnaise, was I supposed to do that?” 
Emily tucks her seat in next to yours. “He’s totally trapped by that secretary again, I hate to tell you.” 
You turn around. 
“Why would you tell her that?” Morgan asks. 
“What?” 
You peer out of the office door, where Spencer’s being chatted to by a stunningly attractive secretary. She has dark skin and darker hair, alluring almond eyes that light her sweetheart face with a bright charm. “Oh, she’s getting prettier,” you say. 
You’ve got Spencer Reid locked in. Nothing in you doubts that he’s currently infatuated with you. You don’t even care when he laughs at her joke, or when she dips her head bashfully toward him. 
“You better go and get your man,” Morgan says. 
“What for?” 
“She’s flirting hard,” JJ says. She’s only just looked up from her phone. “He’s gonna start blushing.” 
As if. You turn back to the table, unwrapping the paper from your sandwich with a happy sigh. Spencer looks so cute when he blushes, his cheeks turn pink and he smiles like he’s being tickled, it’s adorable. If that pretty secretary wants to do the hard work for you, it’s her prerogative. He’s your boyfriend. 
“I don’t need to do anything, he’s fine,” you say. 
You’re cutting your sandwich in half when you feel a presence behind your back. A familiar hand closes around your shoulder, a voice in your ear, “Thanks for nothing.” 
You giggle at his embarrassed tone, turning your face up to his, immediately delighted by his pink-tinged cheeks and neck. “You looked like you were having fun!” 
“You’re not gonna pretend to be mad?” he asks, leaning over you to open your sandwich. He pulls out a sad looking tomato and a similarly wilted slice of lettuce and closes it again. “Did you want a drink? I can’t believe you.” 
“Spencer, did you want me to come and get you?” you tease. 
“It would’ve been nice of you. Drink?” 
You laugh again, tugging him down by the wrist. “No, Spencer, I don’t want a drink, just sit down. What was I supposed to do? I’m not gonna pull her off of you.” 
“But why?” he asks, nearly not quite pouting. “She asked me if it was too hot in here for me.” He sits in the chair beside you, his hand dropping to the soft inside of your thigh as he leans in imploringly. “If you cared about me at all–”
Everybody laughs, including yourself. He’s clearly joking, and for once nobody on the team mistakes it for ineptitude, which seems to cheer him up. He gives your leg a rather bold squeeze considering who he is and where you are, and again when you gesture for him to lift his face to plant a kiss on the ridge of his jaw. “I do care about you, Spencer. Sorry I wasn’t jealous. Should we try again?” 
He turns your face away from your coworkers, eye to eye. “You’re making fun of me.” 
His hand trails to your elbow. “No,” you say, your skin tingling under his touch. 
“I don’t believe you. And I know you need a drink, they didn’t send your bottle of water. I didn’t manage to find those forks, either.” 
He gets up again. He hasn’t so much as glanced at his own food, patting your back in a promise that he’ll return before he edges out of the office and into the station’s bullpen. You take a smug bite of your sandwich. You can’t hide it.
“Told you,” you say once you’ve swallowed. You hadn’t needed to do anything, and you really aren’t worried about other women. “He likes me a lot.” 
“Understatement of the year.” 
You send Morgan a loving smile. When you glance over your shoulder, Spencer’s taking the long way through the office to the water cooler.
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folkwhoredoll · 3 days
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yacht escapades - rafe cameron x fem!reader
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pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader
synopsis: sneaking away with your boyfriend leads to a salacious session under the moonlight
word count: 2k
warnings/tags: smut! (unprotected sex, f and m oral, fingering, brief cockwarming), sweet boyfriend!rafe
a/n: hi everyone! thank you so so much for everyone's support on my recent works. seeing all your hearts and reblogs always makes my day :3 i've always wanted to write a smutfic for rafe so here it is. i hope you'll like this one. happy reading!
masterlist
⍣ ೋ˚
“Relax, baby. This is literally my family’s yacht. Technically, it’s mine too so don’t worry.” Rafe assured you for the hundredth time, rotating the helm of the boat to move farther away from the dock.
Your boyfriend has always been unpredictable, so when he slowly woke you up half an hour ago because he couldn’t sleep, you had no idea that you two would end up sneaking away his parents’ yacht at three in the morning. A part of you was nervous, knowing that Ward tends to get pissed over the littlest things that Rafe did. But another voice was lulling you to just enjoy the night breeze.
“I know, I know. But what if—” You blabbed.
“Stop, sweetheart. We won’t even go that far.”
You sighed, walking over behind Rafe to wrap your arms around his waist while he continued to maneuver the boat far enough to isolate the two of you from the island.
“See? Isn’t this nice?” He smiled proudly, holding your hand to take you to the couch, easily pulling you to his lap.
Your breathing was quiet, hands firm on top of Rafe’s wrapped arms on your waist. He was occasionally giving you some soft kisses on the forehead and cheeks when you broke the silence. “So how exactly is this going to help you sleep?”
“It probably won’t.” He answered bluntly.
You chuckled, watching over the soft ripples on the surface of the lake.
You were on the verge of falling asleep on Rafe’s lap when you felt one of his hands move from your waist to your right thigh, thumb softly rubbing the skin. You didn’t think much of it and let out a small yawn, but he moved his hand further up, making you roll your eyes.
“Hey.”
“What?” Rafe replied innocently, pressing a soft kiss on the side of your neck.
“I know what you’re doing.” You huffed. Sitting up straight but still not leaving his lap. “Did you just bring me here for sex?”
Rafe let out a fake gasp, but his eyes shone with mischief. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You know, we could’ve just done it in your bedroom.”
“Where’s the thrill in that?”
“So you admit! You just want sex.” You raised your brow.
“Well, yes and no. I really couldn’t sleep but now you just look so pretty and we’re all alone here.” He said, tugging the bottom of your shirt.
You groaned, not that you were annoyed with him. You’re annoyed with yourself for liking the idea. It is no secret that you and Rafe have always been sexually active, always trying out new things that one of you may be curious about. Your sex drive matches with his, and it is one of the things that you two love about each other. So the thought of giving yourself to your boyfriend in the middle of the night underneath the stars tempted you so much. And you shamelessly fell for it.
You looked down at his groin, already noticing the bulge through his khaki shorts despite the slight darkness. You pressed your hands against him and gave it a hard squeeze, surprising Rafe.
“Fuck, baby.” He gasped, hips raising upwards slightly.
“You want me, Rafey?” You whispered, giving him the most innocent look you can muster. But Rafe can see right through you, knowing that your question was all he needed as a signal to make a move.
Rafe didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed the back of your neck and pulled your face towards him, kissing you roughly. His tongue glided over your lower lip, making you open your mouth to let him in. Without breaking contact, you fully turned your body to face his, grinding slightly while tangling your fingers in his hair.
He put both of his hands on your hips, heavy breaths occasionally leaving his lips but never breaking the kiss. It was you who pulled away first after a while, gasping for air but wasting no time unbuttoning his shorts.
“Eager, are we?” He smirked, lips red from kissing you.
“Shut up.” You replied, hurrying to pull out his huge manhood as you positioned yourself from his lap to kneel on the floor.
“Go ahead, baby. Suck my cock off like a good girl.” He cooed, stroking the top of your head.
You gave him a sweet smile before giving his tip a lick, making sure to never break eye contact. Rafe threw his head back, whispering a curse under his breath. You grinned at his reaction, ego growing higher as you wrapped your lips around his head.
Rafe almost thanked the sky above for your mouth. He has always been proud of having you. A smart, rich, and polite girl; a literal angel, as others have said. But they don’t know what kind of a freak you are behind those innocent dresses and wide eyes. None of them know except Rafe, and he intends to keep it that way.
You kept sucking him off, pushing yourself to take in as much as you can even as tears brimmed your eyes. You wrapped your slender fingers around the area that you couldn’t take, loving the way he tasted.
Rafe’s head was pulled backward, his chest rising and falling heavily while he muttered praises and curses. He was on the verge of his release when he suddenly put both of his hands on your shoulder.
“No, I want to cum in your pussy.” He panted, pulling you up by the arms. He gently pushed you against the couch so that you were now the one sitting. He stood up and hurriedly removed his clothes, your eyes in awe while watching him. “Like what you see, baby?”
You grinned, pulling your shirt upwards, and expertly removed the clasp of your bra. Rafe’s eyes were trained on your breasts as soon as you freed them, but he wasted no time removing your shorts and panties at the same time.
“Fuck. There’s my pretty pussy.” His eyes were steadily trained on your cunt as he leaned down at eye level. It was as if he was hypnotized as he brought one hand to your folds, gliding his forefinger up and down. He smirked when he noticed the thin sheer wetness in the middle.
“Rafey…” You whined.
“What is it, sweetheart?”
“Fuck me already.”
“You’re a bossy girl, aren’t you?” Rafe chuckled amusedly. “Patience, darling. ‘Gotta prepare you nicely first.”
He continued to tease you, never touching your clit or pushing a finger inside of you. With each moment that you grow irritated, the wetness of your womanhood increases. When Rafe sensed that you were about to curse him off, he suddenly inserted two fingers in, making you gasp.
“Shit.” You breathed, soft moans leaving your lips as he curled his fingers before pumping faster.
Rafe placed his thumb on your clit, making you squeal in both surprise and pleasure. You swore you almost saw stars when he did so, one hand reaching downwards in an attempt to grab onto the couch for support while the other reached for his wrist.
He ticked his tongue at the action, using his free hand to pull your hand away.
Rafe lowered his head until your legs were leveled with his face, inhaling your scent while still fingering you. He brought his lips closer until you could feel his breath near your folds, making you shiver.
“Rafe, please fuck me… fuck.” You pleaded.
“I will, darling. But I have to taste this pussy first.” Without warning, he removed his thumb from your clit, replacing it with his lips. You screamed at the contact, suddenly thankful that no one could hear you.
Rafe continued to play with your clit, tugging the small nub with his teeth while pushing his tongue inside you. You were almost crying from pleasure, the overwhelming feeling of your boyfriend’s mouth and fingers in the same area was almost too much.
You were loudly moaning his name, hips lifting on their own as you pushed yourself closer to Rafe’s mouth. Your boyfriend grinned against you, his pride increasing with the knowledge that only he can make you feel this way.
You almost screamed in frustration when Rafe abruptly pulled away, licking his lips to savor your juices. “Ready, baby?”
“Yes, Rafe, fuck me please.”
“Always so polite.” He snickered, loving the way that your eyes turned hazy from all the pleasure. “Who am I to turn down my baby’s request, hm?”
With a swift move, Rafe quickly positioned his cock to align with your cunt before pushing himself in with one go. You gasp at the intrusion, shock, and ecstasy filling your body. Having sex with Rafe so many times has made you familiar with his size, but you still weren’t prepared for the amount of stretching that your womanhood would have to make to accommodate him.
He wasted no time and began thrusting, slowly at first to let you adjust.
“Shit. Your cunt is hugging me perfectly.” He gasped, building up his tempo.
You were too speechless to reply, the only thing that you could do was moan and grab his chest. Rafe placed one hand on your hip, and the other grabbed both your wrists to pull your hands above your head.
Sweats, gasps, and whines were the only sounds heard. Rafe’s hips collided with yours with strength, making you scream out his name. He admired the beads of sweat on your forehead, your skin illuminated by the moonlight. He always believed that you were the prettiest girl on this planet. And seeing you at this moment, naked and dewy with your face twisted in enjoyment, he knew he was right.
“Come on, darling. Give it to me.” He praised, knowing that you were close with how tightly you were squeezing him.
You mumbled his name over and over again, legs shaking as you wrapped them around his hips to pull him closer. Rafe cursed after seeing your action, thrusting harder and faster to chase both of your highs.
You were a crying mess underneath him, pleasure surging through all parts of your body. You opened your eyes slightly, admiring Rafe’s face before feeling the pressure on your lower abdomen.
“Fuck, Rafe. I’m gonna cum.”
“Go ahead, sweet girl. Cum for me. I want to feel you around my cock.” He urged, never breaking the pattern of his thrusts.
You screamed after a few more pushes, your vision blurring slightly as you squirted around him. Rafe came after you, gasping as he felt his warm liquid mix with your own inside your pussy.
You two were panting against each other, Rafe still inside you as he caught his breath. “You alright?” He asked, pushing a strand of hair away from your face.
You couldn’t reply, still breathing heavily but nodded instead. Rafe started to slowly pull out of you, making you whine.
“No, Rafey. Stay.” You pouted.
He smiled sweetly, lifting you so that he could sit on the couch without separating from you.
The two of you lay there, soft breaths coming out of your mouths while Rafe hugged you against his chest as you keep him warm in your cunt.
“Tired, baby?” He asked you after a while, noticing your droopy eyes.
You nodded, feeling warm against his body despite being exposed to cool air.
“Get some rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.” Rafe whispered, kissing you softly on the forehead.
Before closing your eyes, you vowed to sneak out with his yacht more open.
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ceilidho · 12 hours
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take me home, country road
[ao3]
You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (part 8)
part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7
-
Now a nocturnal animal emerges into the daylight hours.
A week becomes two and your shoulders untense. It’s not something you notice at first because you’re used to an ever present strain between your shoulder blades and an ache in your jaw from grinding your teeth at night. Then a fortnight goes by without so much as a missive with your name on it floating across John’s desk or a stranger appearing in town after tracking you down, and you wonder if maybe the world really is big enough to hide in. 
It sure feels that way at times. The woods beyond the bounds of John’s property stretch out farther than the eye can see and even walking it feels like you could disappear into another realm. Old spruces shoot up high into the clouds, and deeper into the woods, huge rock formations grow more and more prominent as you near the mountains. John takes you through the woods on horseback, following the rough trails carved into the dirt by a century of wagons and carts using the same path. The footprints of a different time. 
Up in the trees, birds warble and chirp, talking to one another in songs that you’ve never heard before. A woodpecker drills into the side of a tree. Pinecones snap out of the upper branches and drop to the forest floor. 
There is only a single trail and it’s easy to lose. You grow a bit nervous when John takes you off the trail and deeper into the woods, but he does so with the confidence of a man that knows these woods like the back of his hand. You go quiet when he stops Buttercup to let a herd of deer wander by, the stragglers hurrying to catch up with the group, throwing the two of you nervous glances before they disappear into the thicket. 
“Should we be out this far?” you ask in a whisper, reluctant to disturb the silence. Though the woods are full of animals that bleat, chirp, chatter, and hoot, the sound of your own voice feels preternaturally loud and shrill. 
“We won’t get lost, darlin’. I know my way around,” John reassures you, curling an arm around your waist to hold you to him. These days, you hardly worry about tumbling off the horse. Not with him at your back anyway. 
“That wasn’t really my worry,” you mumble, trailing off.
“Then what’re you getting all worked up about?”
“Aren’t there wolves out here? Or bears?”
He snorts, the sound making you jolt. You don’t topple over because he has such a firm hold around your waist. “They don’t usually come this close to town. They’re more scared of you than you are of them.”
“That sounds like something mothers tell their children to stop them crying,” you say flatly. You draw your legs up automatically when John directs Buttercup through a shallow basin, a shortcut back home. It makes you anxious for a moment, but the water barely goes up to her ankles, so you relax when you realize that you’re in no danger of being swept away by the current.
“That doesn’t mean a bear or wolf can’t wander by, but it’s rare.”
“And there it is.”
You can feel the heat of his glower on the back of your head. “We could spend the night out here if you want to see for yourself.”
At that, you shut your mouth. Even if he were to prove his point, you have no interest in camping out in the woods now that you’ve become accustomed to the luxury of a soft bed. Granted that you’re forced to share that same bed, still you’ve never slept half as well as you do these days. You wake up rested after nine hours of blissful shut eye, a sleep so deep that your dreams only come in half-remembered flashes. Often they involve the man you wake up wrapped around, and for that you’re grateful that they remain submerged. 
A new desire has started to burrow its way into the back of your mind in recent days. It starts out as a thought so brief that you hardly notice it before it skitters away. 
And then it lingers. 
You wake up in the middle of the night hot, sweat dripping down the nape of your neck and a fire burning in your loins, a red-hot coil wound around itself, fit to burst. Pulsating. At some point throughout the night, you must have thrown a leg around John’s waist because it rests there now, your hand planted in the middle of his chest and your sex all but rubbing up against his thigh. Under your hand, you can feel his heart pump strong and steady.
You hold very, very still, waiting for him to wake. But John sleeps on, his palm loose where it rests along the curve of your hip, fingers curling into the flesh of your backside. 
You can hardly look at him these days without shaking. You’ve come to fixate on the sway of his hips when he walks and the flecks of silver in his beard. The grooves in his weathered hands. The way your head fits in the palm of his hand when he cradles it to his chest. The fond glimmer in his eyes that shines the brightest when he puts his hat on your head and it slips past your eyes, too big for your head. 
When you tip it up in order to see, the folds around his eyes become more pronounced with the force of his smile.
“There you are, bug,” he says, taking the hat off your head to set it back on his and reeling you in for a kiss. 
Bug, love, honey, darling. The constant flux of endearments makes your head spin. John never calls you by the name on your marriage license. It’s like that name means nothing to him, cast away at the first opportunity and replaced by an endless stream of pet names.  
He hasn’t touched your sex since making you come on the porch swing the week before. He pulls you into a chaste embrace at night, the only evidence of his own desire being the stiff shaft nestled against the small of your back in the early morning hours, which he takes care of on his own in the bathroom downstairs after pressing a kiss to your cheek. You feel robbed of something, though you don’t know quite what. 
You’re tempted to offer your help, but you don’t know exactly what that would entail. Inexperience and fear of rejection hold you back, stay your tongue. In the two weeks you’ve been married, he hasn’t once tried to pin you down and rut between your thighs like you expected and dreaded that very first night. 
Now that that time has passed, you don’t know how to initiate that moment again. 
John promises to teach you how to ride a horse. You can’t see a reason to protest, much to your chagrin. Despite your apprehensions, even you can’t deny that it would be a helpful skill. A train only goes one way after all, confined to a single track. A horse has no such laws to obey.
The thought stays nestled at the back of your mind as the days continue on.
You flounder around in the kitchen on the day that John invites his deputies over for supper. You’ve met the big one—Simon—now a small handful of times, each encounter marked by a silence that sucks the air out of the room when he turns his gaze on you and holds it. Perhaps you’ve simply ascribed too much importance to his person, given that every time you’ve seen him, your life has changed irrevocably. His presence is always followed by revelation it seems. The archangel of vicissitude. A harbinger of uncertain times.
The other two are new. John introduces you to them when you bring out the cutlery and crockery to set the table, and you nearly go cross-eyed when they reach across the table at the same time to offer their hands. You go to meet them halfway, but flinch when John brings his hand down on the table with enough force to make the silverware jump.
“Sorry, darlin’,” he apologizes to you first before turning his glare on the other two. “That ain’t proper, boys. You wait for the lady to offer her hand first—you don’t treat a woman like she’s a mutt you’re teaching to shake.”
“Ah, sorry, hen,” the one on the left says, his voice a thick Scottish brogue like a purr. He’s possibly the handsomest man you’ve ever met, but there’s something dangerous and wild in his eyes. When he smiles, it curls up in a roguish sort of way that makes you falter, like he’s in on a joke that you aren’t. “Dinnae mean to offend. No’ often we get ta meet such a pretty lady.” 
“Sorry—” the one on the right apologizes in a voice far more earnest than his counterpart’s. “And sorry for him. We think he was raised by wolves.”
“What’s yer excuse then?” the Scot sneers, knocking his knee into the other man’s under the table. “Dinnae see ye waitin’ for her fuckin’ hand like a gentleman—apologies, hen.”
“Christ,” John sighs, leaning back in his chair and staring up at the ceiling. 
Simon stays silent at the other end of the table, but the whole table jumps when he aims a kick at the Scott’s leg. He hisses and blurts out a word in a language you’ve never heard before, the word unmistakably vitriolic. He clutches at his shin and shoots a nasty look at Simon, though he doesn’t make a move to retaliate. 
“Name’s Kyle. Kyle Garrick,” the other introduces himself, and you finally reach across the table to offer your hand. His hand is warm against yours when he takes it, dark skin burnished in the candlelight. There’s something inviting about him; something about his eyes, so dark that you almost fall into them. Thick lips curl up into a smile. “And this here is Soap.”
You frown. “Soap?”
The man in question runs a hand down his front, emphasizing the cut of his shirt and the way it clings to the muscle of his chest. “‘Cause of how well I clean up.”
Simon barks out a laugh at that. The sound comes so sudden and sharp that it startles you. “You got it ‘cause your mum had to wash out your mouth with soap.”
It’s the most you’ve ever heard out of him and you can only stare wide-eyed at the lot of them as they dissolve into bickering and squabbling after that. It’s almost a relief to head back into the kitchen to finish cooking. 
Dinner is a similar messy affair, punctuated by the sound of Soap practically gnawing the meat off the bone. He only apologizes when John barks at him for making a mess, more food on the floor around him than on his plate, but his table manners don’t last very long. John doesn’t seem so much embarrassed on their behalf as annoyed, but it’s an annoyance that comes with an aftertaste of warmth. You can tell without asking that they’ve known each other for years. 
There’s room enough in you for food and envy. Back home you had friends. Never close friends, but acquaintances at least. Maids you could recognize by face. Small talk while ascending single-file up the servants’ staircase. Perhaps little more than that. You’d never been particularly close to any of them, but how could you? You worked from morning ‘till night, up and down the stairs, moving in the shadows. Never making too much noise lest your employers take notice of you. 
Like he did.
You shake it off. That’s no matter now. You’re hundreds of miles away and living under a new name. A married woman, to the county sheriff no less. It only sometimes hurts your heart to think of how lonely you’d been. 
When they leave, you stand at the window and watch as they disappear into the black of the night, Simon at the front of the pack, his torchlight leading the way. The sound of horse hooves beating against the dirt recedes the farther they get. 
His hands warm your shoulders. You don’t know how long he’s been there, standing behind you while you stared out the window after the boys. All you know is that his hands are warm, and the kiss he presses to the back of your head makes you arch back into him, unconsciously gravitating closer to him. Needing to be near. 
In bed, you curl your fingers against his chest. On a rough exhale, you wake. You dream still of something terrible that happens somewhere else, in another city, in an old life. His heartbeat lulls you back to sleep.
John takes you to the local seamstress to have you fitted for a pair of pants and suddenly you’re out of excuses. They fit you comfortably, like a second skin, and you find yourself pulling at the legs at your final fitting as if to stretch out the material. The seamstress nearly jabs you with a pin and glares up at you until you stop fidgeting. 
You come to terms with it when he brings you into the stables and makes you fetch the saddle from where it rests on its stand. It’s heavier than you expected. You stumble back over to where John now has Buttercup standing in the middle of the stable, holding her by the lead fixed to her bridle. 
“I don’t know if—” you start, trepidation climbing up your chest until it grips you by the throat. For as many times as you’ve ridden her, you’ve never done it alone. 
John fixes her lead to a post and walks over to you, taking the saddle from your hands and letting it drop to the ground. He cups your face in both hands to tilt your head up. “Hey, honey. We’re not doing much of anything today, alright? Just a walk around the paddock so you get used to sitting on Buttercup on your own. I’m not gonna smack her ass and send you down the trail at full tilt..”
That gets a laugh out of you. “You promise?”
He smiles. “Promise, darlin’.”
And he keeps it. The only thing you do that day is learn how to tack a horse and how to properly mount and dismount her. The latter part of the lesson is devoted to you trying to find your balance while John leads the two of you around the pen at a leisurely pace. He calms you down when he sees you grow too stiff, stopping to coo and rub your thigh until you gradually relax. It’s heartwarming until Buttercup begins to tense up too for a reason unbeknownst to you and you watch in righteous fury as John calms her down the same way.
John gets you a hat to keep the sun from beating down on you, but there’s little he can do about the soreness between your thighs and the stiffness in your legs the next day. All you can do is hiss and moan in pain, hobbling around the house until he forces you down into a chair and hikes up your dress in order to apply an arnica salve to your inner thighs. 
It’s a relief and an affront at the same time. The duality of man. The salve soothes much of the ache, but you twitch nervously around John for the rest of the day, the memory of him pinning you to the chair and forcibly spreading your thighs haunting you. The lingering ache in your core is just the salt in the wound. 
It rains another day. A light drizzle while the sun is still out.
Every day you sit and you think, will it be today? And then the wash basins are emptied out in the field, the horses are taken out to the paddock, you pin the laundry up on the line to dry, and John presses a farewell kiss to your forehead when he leaves you with Kate and nothing happens. Every inch of you waits for more, anticipates more. Throbs when he leaves you wanting, only a chaste kiss and a squeeze around your waist before he’s off. 
You can feel it coming to a head. An itch you can’t shake. 
That day comes with another ache you can’t shake. 
“Please,” you beg, clasping your hands in front of you. “One day of rest. That’s all I’m asking. I can’t do this anymore, John.”
John snaps the lead in his hands. “Let’s get a move on. We’re burning daylight.”
You hang your head low on the march over to the stables, John taking up the rear like he expects you to bolt. An executioner’s walk. The thought of escape has never seemed further away—not even because of its feasibility, but because all you want to do is lie down and rest.
“You can quit your moping,” he says as you tack up Buttercup, a pout on your lips. “Got something special for you today.”
That makes you perk up, regardless of the fact that he doesn’t specify what that is. Anticipation mounts in you when he helps you up onto Buttercup and then climbs up behind you himself. He steers her away from the paddock and towards the trail leading into the woods, the sun at its zenith now, illuminating everything as far as the eye can see.
You’ve ridden this trail before. A week ago, with John at your back as he is now. Through the fields and over the hills until the trees start to number in the tens and then the hundreds, no clear delineation between plain and forest. Simply there and then everywhere.
By now, after hours of sun beating down on the path, the trail is mostly dry, yesterday’s rain long since having sunk into the earth. You think it’d still be a tough hike on foot, but on horseback you cover acres of land at a brisk pace, Buttercup hardly breaking a sweat. You cross paths with a small group traveling by horse and wagon, but John breaks off from the path not too long after that, steering Buttercup deeper into the wilderness, where the only gullies are the ones carved out by years and years of rainfall. 
You only see it when the land begins to dip and you’re forced to hold onto the horn and tighten your thighs around the fenders to keep steady. At the bottom of a hill, a small stream opens up into a larger river, narrowing out at the other end where the land rises again and the water can only trickle over the pebbly riverbed. On the other side, a rocky outcropping cuts the stream off from view.
“Is this where you used to come to bathe?” you ask, recalling an earlier conversation.
John sighs. “Thought I’d take you for a swim as a treat, but if you’d rather just tease me—”
“Well now, let’s not be hasty,” you say, already trying to dismount on your own, eyes glued on the stream glimmering in the sunlight. John chuckles, keeping you pressed to him until he guides Buttercup under a tree for shade and dismounts first, helping you down after him. 
All you want to do is wade in the stream up to your ankles, so that’s what you do. Boots kicked off, Buttercup relaxing in the shade of a tree, John standing by the water’s edge with his hands on his hips and watching you tiptoe over the smooth rocks below. You roll up your pant legs, but eventually you feel the ends grow damp as you venture farther out. At its deepest, you would probably sink up to your waist.
“Don’t you want to swim?” John asks from somewhere behind you.
You splash around a bit, kicking your feet through the water. “Hard to do that with clothes—”
When you turn back around to face him, your eyes dart down momentarily at the sight of skin before you squeak and whirl back around, sending up an arc of water. Twice now you’ve seen him naked. 
“You’ve no clothes on,” you state, bluntly enough that it almost sounds stupid. 
You hear the water splash and ripple when he takes his first step in. “Right—you better think about doing the same if you don’t want to ride home soaking wet.”
“I was perfectly fine just getting my feet wet,” you say indignantly.  
“We came out here to swim, not get your feet wet,” John laughs. You stiffen when his hand comes down on your shoulder, conscious of the fact that your husband is standing right behind you, entirely divested of his clothes. “So best get to steppin’.”
“You can’t make me.”
“Oh, honey,” he says pityingly. “Yes, I can.”
You squeeze your eyes shut as you make your way back to shore, careful not to allow yourself a glimpse of him. Your boots are stacked beneath the shade of another tree, John’s clothes folded neatly beside them. You strip slowly, attentive to the world around you; though unlikely, it’s not impossible that someone might wander by. Your only consolation is that John is still within sight, though you keep your back to him because in recent days, you’ve developed a hunger for him that even now makes your stomach hurt.  
Though the air is warm, you shiver. When you turn around with your arms crossed over your breasts to hide them from sight, you find John wading in the river up to his waist. You’ve seen him like this once before, the hearty body of a man in his prime. Sturdy and strong. The hair on his chest is darker than that on his head, wet too from the dip he must have taken when your back was turned. His hair is slicked back too, a wet hand combing it back. 
“Come on, darlin’,” he calls, beckoning you forward with his hand.
The water is a cold shock when you step in past your ankles. Ice cold tendrils wrap up your legs, sucking the warmth from you. 
You suck in a soft breath when he pulls you into his arms and heaves you up, big hands gripping under your thighs. Your breasts press against the wet skin of his chest, nipples already pebbled. The river is deeper than you assumed; John pulls you deeper in until it pools around your waist and then your chest. Cold enough that you shiver until John dips his head down and the kiss he presses to your lips melts you from the inside out. 
You can’t escape the intimacy of water-slick skin. When John drags you up his chest, your nipples brush over his and the shudder that passes through you is violent, toe-curling. You know that he can feel the heat of your core even underwater. With your legs wound around his waist, every inch of you is plastered to his front. Even your fingers play with the ends of his hair, arms draped over his shoulders. You can’t look away.
“C’mon,” he murmurs, breath hot on your face. “Eyes on me.”
As if you could look anywhere else. 
He reaches down under the water to readjust himself and you gasp when his shaft is suddenly right there, trapped between his belly and your heat. It’s the closest you’ve ever gotten to coitus, his glans nestled between your folds. You’d only have to shift slightly for him to slip right in. The thought makes your breath quicken. 
He doesn’t make a move to take you though, even knowing that he could. How easy it would be. How it’s due to him. Your husband that’s waited a fortnight to take you as his own. John kisses you until each slick pass of his lips grows sloppier, clumsier—his lips barely parting from yours before they’re on you again, rendering you a creature of base needs. 
But his hands don’t shift from your backside where he holds you in place. His fingers dig into the flesh hard enough to bruise, but they don’t move to part your folds to make room for his manhood. You expect him to—practically yearn for it and squeeze him around the neck all the harder when he subverts your expectations, doing no more than letting you grind your heat against the base of his shaft. 
“John—John, please,” you beg, mindless for what. You don’t know what you’re asking for. 
“What d’ya need, darlin’?” he asks into your mouth, stealing your answer with another kiss. 
You fall under the swell of another wave. When the root of his cock glides over your clit, your core clenches on nothing, a sob half-bitten off in your mouth, ripped from your chest. 
It doesn’t matter how close to him you get—he gives you nothing. The heat could very well burn you from the inside out. Cold water caresses your skin as it flows past, but the center of you runs so hot that you hardly notice it. 
When he hikes you higher up against his chest, you clench your fingers in his hair, whining when he takes your nipple into his mouth. Your gasp comes out sharp and hurt when the coarse bristles of his beard rub rough against your breast. He sucks at your breast tender at first, gentle, eyes half-lidded like his mind has gone somewhere else, but there’s a glint in his eye that grows wild and dark, that turns him rough. You don’t know what to do except shake and let him use you how he wants. 
Desperation nips at your heels, urging you up the length of him. If you had more nerve, you’d reach down and grasp him under the water, notch the head of his member against your sex and sink right down on him. You need him like you've never needed anything before. Every part of you aflame, searing hot under the sun at its highest point; right overhead, right on top of you. 
His teeth sink delicately into your areola, tongue lapping over your nipple to soothe the hurt, and suddenly, you break.
“Please—” you gasp, wrenching his mouth away from your breast and whimpering when he resists at first, glaring up at you like he might bite. “Please, John—I can’t take it. I need you.”
His eyes darken, the pupil swallowing everything up. “Need me where, wife? Here?”
A hand dips between your thighs, pointer finger gliding over your sex, plump with blood. So tender that your mouth hangs open on a whine when he touches you. 
“Y-yes,” you whimper, gaze swimming. 
John’s breath comes out in a harsh, ragged pant. Completely undone in a way you’ve never seen before. “Get out, darlin’. I’m taking you home. Gonna give you what you need.”
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Haircut
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Summary: Javi thinks that he's way past due for a haircut. You like his hair long for reasons other than his good looks.
Word Count: 2.1K (I sprinted to write this after I saw this picture)
Pairing: Husband!Javi x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n, reader's nickname is Osita)
Warnings: SMUT (18+) Oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, praise kink, (lovingly?) possessive Javi, Javi's back at again with his filthy mouth, hair pulling, Javi is hungry and the man is gonna EAT, allsions to more smut, Jonas Brother's references ( bc Javi is our girl dad king and his daughters love them LMAO)
A/N: Y'ALL REALLY THOUGHT THIS PICTURE OF PEDRO WAS SURFACE RIGHT HERE ON TUMBLR DOT COM AND I WASN'T GONNA DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT?!? WRONG. I legit have 3 WIPS I started in the past 24 hours based on this picture alone. Pedro really did this one for the Javier Peña girlies (gn) and I will forever be in debt to him for that. You cannot tell me that this is Dad!Javi when his kids are a little bit older bc HOLY SHIT?! This really may the nail in the coffin for @notjustjavierpena and I bc really fear this is the dilfiest Husband Javi has ever looked 😩😵‍💫 anyways, never getting over this!!!!
Series Masterlist Never Too Late Masterlist
“God, I can’t even remember the last time my hair has been this long. Lucy keeps saying I look like a Jonas Brother. Am I supposed to know who they are? Is that supposed to be a good thing?” Javi sighed, playing with his dark brown curls in the bathroom mirror as you snuck up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist, peeking out to watch your husband’s longer than usual locks twist between his fingers. 
“They’re the goofy looking boy band on Disney Channel that the girls are obsessed with. Like the Backstreet Boys, except cooler, apparently.” You laughed, planting a soft kiss into the fabric of Javi’s worn t-shirt covering his broad back before stepping next to him, leaning your hip against the bathroom counter to admire your husband as he fiddled with his hair. 
“Jesus Christ, those guys? God, I really do need a haircut before I start looking like the poster what’s-his-face hanging on Lucy and Elliot’s walls.” Javi chuckled, running his hand through his hair once more before mirroring you, his hip resting against the counter, leaning his weight on his palm splayed flat along the granite surface. 
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I think he’s supposed to be the best looking one.” You teased, giving Javi a playful shrug. “Besides, I like your hair long.” 
“Seriously?” Javi asked, raising an eyebrow at you, crossing his arms over his chest in protest. “It looks like a mop right now.” 
“A very sexy mop.” You smirked, nudging Javi before stepping closer into him, reaching up to run your hand through his curls, slowly twisting the ends with your fingers. “It reminds me of that trip we took to Jamaica a few years ago. Your hair was almost this long, remember? You looked so hot in those stupid floral button downs you insisted on buying, and hanging out shirtless by the pool all day while you played with the girls.” 
“Fuck, I forgot about that. I’m surprised we didn’t end up with a fourth kid after that trip.” Javi chuckled, slowly shifting the palm that had been holding him up towards your waist, letting his fingers gently toy with the waistband of your pajamas. “You really like my long hair that much?” 
“Mhmmmm.” You cooed, continuing to close the gap between your bodies, your free hand resting on Javi’s chest as the other continued to stroke his curls. You could feel a low groan rumbling in Javi’s throat as your fingers weaved back and forth through his hair, the other creeping up to cradle his jaw, thumb tracing back and forth across the stubble on his cheek. 
“Yeah? What else do you like about it?” Javi groaned, his hand slipping under the elastic waistband of your pants to grab a fistfull of your ass, kneading the soft flesh in his hand. 
“I like…” You paused, bringing your lips to Javi’s, pressing a tender kiss on his lips, “I like that it gives me something extra to hold on to.” 
“Hold on to?” Javi asked, cocking his head in slight confusion. 
“Hold on to when you go down on me. I love being able to run my hands through your hair when you eat me out, especially when it’s long like this.” You smirked, watching Javi’s eyes go wide in delight, a devilish grin spreading across his face as he bit down on his lip. 
Before you could say anything else, Javi’s hands were gripping around your waist and hosting you up to sit on the counter, caging his body against yours, hands planted around the outside of your hips while his lips crashed into yours, your mouths becoming a tangled mess of tongue and teeth. 
“Fuck…” Javi whispered to himself, pulling away from your lips to pepper kisses down your jaw and neck, running his hands over your thighs. “I love it when you play with my hair, Hermosa. Love feeling you pull on it when you’re close. Makes me lose my fucking mind every time. Fuck, I’d stay burried between your legs forever if I fucking could.” 
Javi began to let his kisses trail down your body, past your chest and across your stomach before he was dropping to his knees in front of you, draping your legs across the width of his shoulders. Pulling at your waistband, you lifted your hips off the counter so your pajamas and underwear could fall to the floor, revealing the wetness that had been pooling between your thighs since you had walked into the bathroom a few minutes ago. 
“Jesus Christ…” Javi whispered, further parting your legs to see the arousal already dripping through your folds, staring up at you with a boyish grin on his face, “So fucking wet for me, Hermosa. Didn’t realize you liked my hair that much.” 
“Oh shut up you goof, you know I- o-oh fuck-” You whimpered, Javi cutting off the rest of your sentence as the flat of his tongue dragged across your cunt, the suddent sensation making you gasp in delight, already playing in to Javi’s plan as your hand shot down to his head, digging your fingers into his messy hair. 
“Better hold on tight, querida. There’s a lot more where that came from.” Javi smirked, pulling away just enough to see the smug smile between his cheeks, peppering a few wet kisses on the inside of your thighs before his head was back between your legs, placing a soft kiss on your clit, already aching and throbbing for more of what you had just been promised. 
“Do your worst, Peña.” 
That one sent a low growl of approval humming through his chest, laughing to himself as his hands gripped tighter around your thighs, fingertips digging into the soft flesh of your skin before another slow, broad stroke of his tongue was traveling through your folds. 
While you were truly convinced there wasn’t another man who loved going down on their wife more than your husband did, you could always tell when Javi wanted nothing more than to stay buried between your thighs, making you cum over and over until you were begging him to stop, lapping up every last drop of you until there was nothing left to give, and right now, you already knew Javi meant what he said when you were about to have to hold on for dear life. 
The hand buried in the dark waves of Javi’s hair only began to tug tighter as his tongue began to work meticulously across your cunt, pressing just enough pressure against your sensitive bundle of nerves to already have you a squirming, whimpering mess, but painstakingly slow enough to have you begging for more. 
“Javi… Oh, shit. Fuck, more baby, please. P-please.” You moaned, looking down at Javi with what you were already sure was a wrecked expression painted across your face. 
You could practically feel Javi’s smug smirk pressed against your cunt as he eased one, then two fingers into your aching core, curling them to bump against the spongy spot inside you that already had you fisting at the edge of the bathroom counter to try and keep your composure, and better yet, your voice down. 
“Oh my god, f-fuck. You feel so good, baby.” You moaned, feeling the strong arch of Javi’s nose bumping against your clit, placing a soft kiss there before the flat of his tongue licked another long, broad stroke across your cunt, putting just the right amount of pressure on your sensitive bundle of nerves as his fingers worked in tandem to send the sweet tingling sensation to start building in your spine. 
“Fuck, I love this perfect pussy so much. I still can’t believe she’s all fucking mine. My perfect fucking wife. Tell me, Hermosa, whose pussy is this?” Javi asked, pulling away for you to see your slick covering his mustache and the lustful look pooling in the dark brown of his eyes, the quiet possessiveness of his tone making your cunt clench even tighter around his fingers as they continued to pulse in and out of you. 
“It’s y-yours, Javi, It’s all- fuck- It’s all yours.” You whined, your breath hitching in your throat as you spoke. 
“And who’s the only one who makes you feel like this, huh?” Javi tutted, sliding a third finger into your heat, the sweet stretch and sting making you let out a ragged whimper as you threw your head back in pleasure. 
“Y-you- Jesus- Y-you are, Javi.” 
“And who’s gonna be a good girl and soak my face when she cums for me?” 
“M-me.” 
“That’s fucking right, you are.” Javi growled before diving back between your legs, working his tongue relentlessly against your clit, circling and flicking in fast and firm motions as his fingers curled deeper into your core, eating you up like a man starved, desperate to make you fall apart. 
You could already feel the coil in your stomach beginning to tighten from the way Javi was working so relentlessly to make you come undone, drinking every ounce of you up as his lips latched around your sensitive bundle of nerves, making your back arch and mind go blank while that all too familiar tingle began to creep through your core, cunt beginning to clench tighter and tighter around him. 
At this point, your fingers were tugging so tightly around the soft, brown curls of his locks to try and hold yourself together, that you were convinced that you were close to pulling his hair out of his skull, but with the way you were on the brink of collapse from the way Javi’s mouth was working against your cunt, you almost didn’t have a choice. 
“Fuck, Javi. Oh shit- Baby, I’m so close. Don’t stop.” 
“I won’t stop, mi amor. Won’t stop until this pretty pussy fucking soaks me.” Javi mewled, peeking his head out from under you just enough so that his sweet, brown eyes were locked with yours, the hot words of his breath dancing against your pussy as his fingers continued to rock in and out of you. “I’ve got you, Osita. Promento. Damelo, bebita. (I promise. Give it to me, baby).” 
Before you could respond, your jaw dropped open and face scrunched in pleasure as Javi dove back in, burying his face in your cunt as each press of his tongue became more firm and precise than the last, feeling your pussy begin to flutter as you clutched tighter around the edge of the counter, trying to keep from screaming out in pleasure and raise any suspicion. But as your legs began to tremble and your heart race, teetering on the brink of collapse, it was taking every ounce of willpower you had left to make that happen.
“Fuck, Javi. Fuck, I- fuck- I’m gonna, I’m gonna-ahhhhhh.” You whimpered, feeling your orgasm crash through you, pleasure radiating in your veins as you fell apart, losing all inhibitions to keep yourself quiet as you threw your head back in all consuming bliss. With his fingers still buried in your cunt, gently working you through your high, Javi shot back up, his mouth engulfing yours in an electric kiss to try and capture your ragged moans that had been coating the walls of the bathroom, the tangy taste of you still lingering on his lips. 
Your heartbeat finally began to slow, your chest heaving in long, heavy breaths as you slumped into Javi, your head resting on his shoulder as your hands stayed buried deep in his hair, grasping onto his now sweat-dampened ends to try and pull yourself back down to reality.
After a few moments of letting you come to, Javi gently pulled out his fingers, all three drenched and glistening with your slick, pulling them out and bringing them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a devilish smirk of satisfaction on his face. 
“God, you taste so fucking sweet. You really weren’t kidding about the hair, huh Hermosa?” Javi chuckled, cupping your jaw to cradle your cheek with his broad palm, forcing your gaze up at him. 
“I told you.” You giggled softly, still trying to catch your breath as you smiled at him, pulling him in for another long, tender kiss. “Hottest looking Jonas Brother I’ve ever seen.” 
The two of you burst out into laughter, practically snorting at your comment, taking a second to compose yourselves as Javi crossed his arms over his chest, rolling his eyes at you. 
“If that’s the fucking case, I’m getting out the clippers tonight.” 
“Not until you take me to bed and do this all again, you aren’t.” 
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taglist:
@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild @copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @pigeonmama @pedr0swh0r3
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twilghtkoo · 3 days
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telling my boyfriend my tampon is stuck . . .
pairings. haechan x reader (f)
genre. crack, fluff? established relationship
warnings. mentions of period blood lol
note. i've wanted to do this one for awhile lol and i finally had time to write this quickly so sorry if it's short, like and reblogs are vv much appreciated !! enjoy <3
[ series masterlist | masterlist ]
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"babe?" you call out quietly, sounding nervous, from the bathroom.
you hear rustling in your bedroom. "yeah," he responds.
"can you come here please?" you wait patiently, swaying on your feet.
he appears a few feet away from the doorway. "what's up, baby?"
with him now standing in front of you, you're not sure how to go about this and you have to fight your inner self from bursting out into fits of nervous giggles.
you start fiddling with the rings around your fingers. "umm, i can't get my tampon out. it's stuck.."
his mouth slightly opens as he glances down then back up at you. "oh god, the string is gone?" he slightly chuckles but inches towards you, reaching with his hand to softly grab onto your elbow.
his reaction has you both chuckling a bit. "yeah, it's pretty far up there. i'm scared."
he nods, "okay, i'll get it." he replies, as if this was a normal occurence.
"no, no wait. it's bloody and gross."
he blinks. "so? i'll wash my hands first, you should lie down- wait i'll set a towel down for you. let me grab a flashlight-"
your head snaps towards him, grabbing his hand from leaving the room, with your eyes wide. "a flashlight? wait, no it's scary." you back away, laughing out of fear.
"baby, trust me i'll find it. we don't wanna leave it in there do we?" he quirks an eyebrow.
"well, no but-" he cuts you off.
leaving to grab a towel from the linen closet as he neatly places it down on the tiled floor. "i'm not walking into uncharted territory babe, don't you worry. take your pants off, lie down, knees up-"
"baby, wait!"
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milla-frenchy · 2 days
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0k8 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 Summary: Joel fucks you by the window, some guy watches you Warnings: 18+ mdni. Exhibitionism, rough sex, dirty talk, piv, creampie. Mention of somnophilia. Reader’s hair can be pulled.  No age specified, no outbreak a/n: same couple as 5 days and 3 hours, but can be read alone @aurorawritestoescape thank you for beta reading 💕🫶 Gif in the mood board by @pedropascalsx 🙏
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The sun's rays woke you up early, too early for a Sunday. You contemplated going back to sleep, before glancing at Joel. He was snoring softly, lying on his stomach, one leg slightly bent, his face turned towards you. You looked over him, from his tousled curls to his bare back. His arm was hugging the pillow, the sheets were tangled just below his ass. He’d gone out with friends the night before, and had fallen asleep wearing his gray sweatpants.
It was one of the rare nights when he didn’t fuck you before you two went to bed or while you were asleep.
You smiled looking at him and decided to let him rest. You got up and left the bedroom, closing the door behind you. After making yourself some coffee you went to the living room. It  was bathed in light. You walked to the window and saw a few people who were already jogging outside. You put your coffee on the windowsill, waiting for it to cool off.
You felt Joel behind you before you heard him, right before he placed his hands on your hips.
“What are you doin’ here, sweetheart?” he asked, his mustache brushing against your ear.
He pressed his crotch against you before you even had time to respond. His morning wood found its place against the crease of your ass, leaving you breathless.
“Mmm?”, he insisted, leaning more against you.
“I…didn’t wanna wake you up.”
“Is that right?”
You felt him pull down his sweatpants, just below his balls. His hard cock sprang free towards the ceiling before he slid it between your thighs with a firm hand on his shaft. He pushed your panties to the side, and grabbed your breasts under his large t-shirt.
“Mmmm…you smell like me”, he murmured.
“Joel…people could see us.”
“Yeah? Shoulda think about it earlier, sweetheart.”
He pressed on your back to bend you further towards the window, and nestled his cock at your entrance. You held your breath. You always loved it when he fucked you without preparation, whether with his fingers or his tongue. The painful second when he thrust in always gave way to long minutes of pleasure when you  forgot about everything, except for his shaft ruining your pussy.
When he pushed in, you let out a soft “fuck” biting your lip.
“Yeah, take it, just like that. Good girl.”
He bottomed out, growling, his hands tight on your hips and his gaze down on your ass.
“Shit, this pussy’s barely wet. Poor baby...must be harsh to take this big cock without me spreading you first.”
His pace was slow, but so powerful, that your forehead hit the window each time his cock sank between your folds. He grabbed your hair when you didn’t respond, pulling your head back.
“So cockdumb, when I fuck you raw like that. That’s what you wanted, when you woke up?”
He kissed your neck before nibbling on it, pulling you back against his chest. His hand left your hair to grab a breast and he picked up the pace, thrusting in faster. Then he bent you forward again, making your forehead hit the window, one hand firmly gripping your shoulder for leverage. A jogger passing the house glanced up at your window and slowed down when he saw you.
“Joel!!”
But he neither stopped nor slowed down. He pressed down on the back of your neck, holding you against the window, chasing his orgasm. The stranger was almost walking at that point, watching you two. You slipped your hand into your panties, desperately twirling your clit under your finger.
“Fuck…you’re gonna get off while some guy’s watching you being pounded? Oh, baby…didn’t know you were such a bad girl.”
You couldn’t help but look at the man, now standing in front of the house. There was a smile on your face when the orgasm hit you, your pussy clenching on Joel’s cock. He stopped, buried deep inside your core as his cum spurted over your walls. His eyes were fixed on the man, still watching you.
“Damn it, Joel…”
Once your pussy stopped milking his cock, he grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him, tucking his member back into his sweatpants with the other hand.
“What are you doing?”
“You’re gonna ride my face, right now, in bed. And this time you're gonna cum without looking at a damn stranger. Bet he’s gonna jack off when he’ll get home, thinking about this pussy he can’t have.”
You looked out the window one last time. The man readjusted himself before continuing his run.
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Same couple : 5 days and 3 hours
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Guardian of My Heart || Leah Williamson
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based on this request here! it's not that long but i loved writing this so much so i hope y'all like it!
warnings : angst with happy ending. mentions of injury.
“And that’s the final whistle folks, Chelsea takes this game with a comfortable 3-1 win over the Gunners here at Stamford Bridge.”
Leah’s eyes fill with tears at the final whistle. Her heart shatters audibly in her chest. A game they needed to win to have a chance at the title, thrown away by silly mistakes and sloppy football. She walks around the pitch in shame, apologizing to all the Gooners in the stands who came only to see them fail.
“I’m sorry,” she says to the crowd, tears falling down her face. The rest of the girls do the same, making their way to the stands to thank fans and sign jerseys. The home side erupts in a painful cry of victory, one that makes Leah’s chest almost cave in on itself.
The changing room is silent except for the sound of bags being packed and the muted drumming of water on the floor from the showers. One by one the girls make their way to the bus, offending socks from the wardrobe mishap filling the trash bin in the locker room.
Leah sulks when she hears the girls all planning to see their partners at home and just forget today’s game. She just jammed her AirPods into her ears and played her country music loudly, hoping the gaping hole of loneliness in her chest would go away with the serenading words of Luke Combs.
She knew her house would be lonely. She knew her house would be quiet. She knew her house would be dark. There was no one waiting. The person she wanted most would not be there. There was only one person to blame for that.
“Leah, you can’t keep doing this to me!” you yelled, rounding the coffee table as Leah stumbled into the house at twenty past three on a Saturday. You came over at eight thinking Leah would be home since she promised to help you cook dinner and enjoy the Bachelor finale on TV together. Instead, you walked into her apartment with your spare key to an empty house and her bedroom a mess. Her makeup was all over the bathroom and she had clearly changed her shoes at least three times.
You waited and waited for her to get home, calling the Arsenal girls to figure out where she had gone. They felt sorry for you and tried to get Leah to go home to you but she said something that the moment it left her lips, your heart broke into pieces.
“You’re such a fucking needy bitch, get off my back for once!”
You don’t know why you still sat in her living room for three more hours and waited for her to get home. You knew you needed to know she was home safe. That she was okay. That she didn’t choke on her own vomit from drinking too much. Because despite being her second choice for a while now, you still loved the England skipper. You still love Leah Williamson.
Leah drove home in pin-drop silence. Her kit bag was thrown in the back to be dealt with later, her arm on the door holding her head up as the streets of London were a blur. She parked in her spot and walked out like a zombie, not noticing your car in her driveway and her porch light on.
The key turned easily and she walked into her house to the turntable on low and the smell of smileys and a roast coming from the kitchen. She looked down and saw a pair of shoes that she recognized and a voice that was singing along to the music that she had fallen asleep to a million times.
“Y/N?” Leah spoke aloud, toeing her shoes off and dropping her kit bag. She shuffled into the kitchen and saw you standing there at the stove, stirring in the roasting tray and making a gravy. There were two plates on the island she instantly knew which one was hers. You turn and give her a soft smile, pushing your chin out to gesture her to sit. She does and grabs the bottle of wine you’ve set out and pours the two glasses full of Cabernet.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, grabbing a smiley off the plate she knew was hers and nibbling on the cheek.
“I wanted to make sure you had something to eat,” you answer curtly as you put the whisk down and grab a gravy boat, smiling to yourself when you still remember where it was.
“Y/N,” Leah says sternly, putting her half-eaten smiley down.
You turn and put the gravy boat next to the roast, finally looking at your ex-girlfriend.
“I needed to know that you were okay, after today.”
“Why?” Leah asks, voice carrying a lilt of guilt with fresh tears filling her eyes.
You walked around the island and turned the skipper in her seat to face you. You held her face in your hands, wiping the tears that fell. You had been in this situation before when Leah tore her ACL.
“You’re going to be okay, Leah.”
“What if I never play like I used to ever again?”
“You don’t ever need to worry about that because you will. The Leah Williamson I know never gives up.”
She chuckles but more fear settles in her heart. Leah looks up at you at the very island she’s sitting at right now.
“I’m scared,” she admits sheepishly, looking defeated and terrified. You cup her face and wipe the tear stains off her face.
“You will get through this Leah and I will be there every step of the way.”
“You won’t leave? They always leave.”
“I would never. I love you.”
“I love you too,” she whispers back to you before you kiss her, her mind willing itself to get better. If not for her, for you.
Zach Bryan’s voice fills the room softly, the lyrics of ‘Tourniquet’ “take care of the blood that your love runs through” remind you of why you packed up a roast and stopped at the shops for a bag of frozen smileys. It reminds you of all the nights you massaged her leg when it was feeling tight. It reminds you of all the nights when you sat beside her and held her close while she cried at another delay in her recovery. It reminds you of all the nights you spent awake with her when she couldn’t sleep because of the pain.
Was it worth it? Yes.
Would you do it all over again? Yes.
Leah breaks down when her eyes meet yours. The smell of your perfume and your musk flood her senses with all the reasons why she was in love with you all those years. Deep down inside she knew she still felt that way and hoped that you did too.
Leah cries. The pain of losing, hurting her hamstring just as she’s called to the England squad for the first time since her ACL, and the overwhelming sense of disappointment burst the moment you held her in your arms again. It was home and it was safe. Leah clung onto your hoodie and made a right mess on the front but you didn’t care. Leah needed you and you wished you could take away her pain.
“I just wasn’t me out there today and that cost us the game,” Leah muttered after calming herself down and her hiccups stopped.
“Today wasn’t just your fault, honey,” you cooed, taking the hair tie out of Leah’s hair and combing your fingers through her blonde locks. She rested her head against your stomach and closed her eyes, zeroing in on your touch.
“I let the team down,” she countered, pulling you closer to her.
“It just wasn’t anyone’s day today, my love,” you cupped her face and wiped more of the tears that were about to fall from her eyes. You leaned in a little and were a bit unsure, but feeling her nudge herself towards you gave you the approval you sought.  
Her lips felt familiar against yours.
Salty.
Warm.
Recognizable.
Home.
She chased your lips and melted into them, gripping your wet hoodie like her life depended on it or that you would vanish if she let go, even for a second.
“I’m sorry I treated you the way I did, you don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve you.”
“You deserve someone willing to love you for you, Leah,” you reassure her and seal it with a kiss, walking away from her to chuck the roast back in the oven to warm up for a bit and her smileys into the air fryer for a little reheating.
Zach’s voice fills the blanks when you look at her blue eyes, her features blow you away every time you look at her. You bled your whole soul into things you can't control; in a world you'll never satisfy brings Leah back to reality. The game today was good. It didn’t go their way from the beginning with those wretched socks and their delayed start but they gave it their all. It was a lesson to be learned and one to look back on when the team had lost its spark.
Leah scoffs down half the roast and convinces you to throw a couple more smiley into the air fryer for her to drown in your delicious gravy. You put a fresh toothbrush next to hers in her bathroom and have a glass of warm milk on your bedside waiting for you like you like.
“You remembered,” you tell her as she hands you a ratty jersey for you to sleep in. You throw it on and inhale her delicate scent, your heart filling with warmth and ease.
“I still set it out sometimes you know, especially after you left.”
“You’ll have to try and remember again now, I think,” you tease, and she stands in front of you. You sip on your milk and she kisses the foam mustache off your lips.
“I’ll never forget, my love. Ever.”
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getosbigballsack · 1 day
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Random thought! - Husband Gojo x Wife Reader-chan #inside the diary
Hear me out! Gojo read your thoughts in your diary and came to realize that he was a terrible husband to you.
He knew he was a good lay, hence the reason he managed to knock you up three times. But as of lately, he came to realize that you weren't interested in having sex with him.
At first, he thought it was just because you were too tired, having to take care of the kids while he works, all day by yourself (in which he understands, and he praises you for being such a wonderful mother).
But that wasn't the case. He just happened to come home early from work while you were out shopping with the kids, and he got a hold of your diary.
Interestingly, he took it upon himself to skim through the pages of your book, just to see what's inside your little head. Nothing out of the ordinary, just little notes and reminders to yourself about the task you had to complete and a few words of encouragement here and there.
He usually doesn't read through your thoughts, always thinking that if you had an issue you'd come and talk to him, so he was about to put your diary back where he found it because he didn't want to pry further into your thoughts, but that's until one page in particular caught his eye.
I find it difficult to enjoy sex with my husband nowadays and I don't know why?
Words in blue handwriting are written beautifully on the paper. He kept on reading, and as he continued to move further down the line, he felt his heart break.
It’s just me, but I don't think I'm attractive enough to have sex with my husband.
I wanted to suggest the last time we had sex [that was a month ago], but I didn't wanna ruin the moment for him because he looked like he was having fun.
Satoru came home today and wanted to have sex. I told him no. He never forced himself on me. He only kissed me goodnight and left to go sleep in the guest room. I know he was upset but did he really have to leave?
It's been 2 months, and Satoru hasn't tried touching me since that night. Am I not worthy of loving anymore? He doesn't even buy me flowers anymore or take me out on dates.
He doesn't compliment me anymore, doesn't tell me that I'm beautiful. He doesn’t even call me baby girl, doll or even honey.
No more I love you, only kisses to the forehead and peck on the lips before he leaves for work in the morning.
He comes home late, I'm always alone with the kids, no more family dinners, no more kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom conversations. No more late-night kisses, no more holding me tightly in his arms while he sleeps.
Does he not want me anymore?
Sometimes I wanna visit his office with the children but I’m afraid that he’ll find my presence a bit annoying. I feel lonely without him here with me.
I should've said yes that night and spread my legs for him,
That's my duty as his wife.
To have fulfilled all my husband's needs without complaint.
But it hurts to have sex, I'm just not in the mood. I'm too tired, I just need my husband to hold me, but he's not there.
I can't complain, he's the reason I don't have to work.
But is it so bad to ask my husband to love me without having the need to touch me?
The last entry to your diary reads.
I'm going to do it today, bare the pain and have sex with my husband, just so that I can feel his love once again. 
Now he knows the real reason you won’t have intercourse with him, or let's say the reason you don’t enjoy having sex with him. You feel as though he doesn’t love you anymore, and he needs to fix that. So, until he can figure out a way to prove to you just how much he loves you, he’ll have to deprive himself of your warm loving touch. 
Later in the day when you came home with the kids, you saw your husband cooking up a storm in the kitchen. “Hey baby girl, want something to eat? It’s been a while hasn’t it.” too stunned to even say a word, you just watched as your kids, ages 3, 4 and 6 ran over to their dad and engulfed him in a big hug. He giggled and stopped whatever he was doing to bend to his children’s height and kissed every single of them on their cheeks. “Hey boys. Did you all take your mom out shopping today?” Oh, that’s right you’re a boy mom. You managed to pop three boys, all of them came out looking just like their dad, especially your eldest son. 
The boys chatted away with their dad until he excused himself and walked over to you and wrapped his arms tightly around your body. You're in a state of shock, unable to move for a moment until he whispers, “can I get a hug back?” and you did give him a hug. 
“Welcome home, have a seat, dinner’s almost ready. I cooked vegetable curry today, I know it’s your favourite,” and indeed it is your favourite. For the rest of the day, he spent time in the kitchen cooking while chatting with his kids, not without taking small glances at you. You all ate dinner together, got the kids ready for bed when night falls, before preparing for bed yourselves. 
You remembered that you wrote in your diary that you were about to try and have sex with your husband, all for the sake of feeling his love again, but that didn’t happen. Instead, you found your husband already waiting for you on the bed, fully dressed in pjs, a cup of your favourite tea in his hand and a warm loving smile on his face. 
He immediately started up a conversation with you, asking you about your day and your trip to the shopping centre. You had no clue what was going on inside your husband’s head, but it’s been a while since he last sat down and had small conversations like these, and you weren’t about to miss this opportunity. 
So with a smile on your face, you told everything that happened today and even the fact that you had to buy a bag of grapes you had no intentions of buying, but you did so because your 3 year old son stole and ate a few while you picked up a bag of oranges. The conversation went all a while until he sighed. 
“Y/N,” he whispered in a serious tone. “We need to talk. I was going to wait until tomorrow, but I can’t bear the fact that my wife would be going to bed with doubts about our relationship and my love for you.”
You swallow thickly and rest your now empty cup against the nightstand before turning to face your husband fully. He reached his hand out for you, and you gently placed your left hand in his. He wrapped his large hand around your finger and gently pulled you until you were straddling his lips. You swallowed that thick lump yet again, before whispering, “So what is it that we need to talk about.”
“Why do you always refuse to communicate your feelings with me?” he asked as he let go of your hand and wrapped both hands around your waist and rested his head up against your chest. “I know I haven’t been a good husband to you these past few months, but I don’t want you to think that I don’t love you or that you’re not worthy of loving.”
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
He sighed heavily before taking a deep breath. “I found your diary in the living room when I got home, and I read through your notes.” Your body tensed up in his lap, your mind immediately racing towards negative thoughts. Is he angry? Why did you have to carelessly leave your diary out in the open for him to see. 
“Oh!”
“I’m sorry for reading through your diary, but I’m happy that I did because my wife won’t communicate with me,” he said with a frustrated sigh. 
You frowned, “Would you have listened even if I tried?”
“I would’ve dropped everything and listened to whatever it is that you have to say. I know it's my duty to ensure that my wife is living her best happy life, and that it’s also my responsibility to take care of your wellbeing, but I can’t always know what's going on with you if you don’t communicate with me.” 
Communication on your end has always been a big issue in your relationship with your husband. It bothered him and he’d hope that after a while you would’ve grown out of your bad habit, but he guess he’s wrong, because here you are now after 8 years of being a relationship total and that includes the four years of marriage, and 3 kids later, you still struggling to figure out a way to communicate your feelings with him. 
“I broke my heart when I read that you thought that as my wife, your duty is to only provide for me sexually or even the fact that you don’t think that you’re attractive enough to have sex with me. What hurts me the most is that you have so many doubts about my love for you. Y/N you know that I love you right?”
“I do,” your voice trembled slightly as you answered. 
“Then why are you doubting my feelings for you? I apologise for leaving you to sleep in the guest room that night, it was wrong of me to be upset all because you told me no.” There was a moment of silence, you figured he was waiting for a response in which you never gave.
“I know I don’t say this as much as I need to, but I love you. I LOVE YOU so very much. I love you as my best friend, my wife and I love you even more as the mother of my children.” Tears started to obstruct your vision as you stared off at your wedding portrait that was above your bed and listened as your husband poured his hurt out to you. 
“I need you to stop thinking that you are not worthy of loving because you are more than worthy. You’re an amazing woman, an amazing wife, and an amazing mother to our children. Just the fact that you're a mother makes you worthy of loving.” 
“Satoru… I- I,” you stuttered, trying to formulate the words inside your mouth, but even if you did, what are you going to say to your husband? You had not one clue. 
“I’m not a mind reader Y/N, so you need to start communicating your feelings with me, because if you don’t tell me, I’m not going to always know,” he said to you as he snuggled his head against your chest. 
“I- I’ll do better.” 
“I’m happy to hear that, and I promise to show you just how much I love you and do whatever it is to ensure that my wife is happy, because your happiness means the most to me. I’ll get you those flowers you want, and I’ll try my best to buy you loads of flowers in the future. And about visiting my office.”
“Yes?” you said. 
“I would love for you to pop up at my office one day with the kids and surprise me. My workers have been dying to meet my beautiful wife and children. And about the late-night work meetings. I can’t promise you that there won’t be any more late-night meetings, but I'll do my best to get home as early as I can to be with you and the kids. I don’t want you to feel as though I’ve abandoned you with the kids. I’ll take a few days off from work too and take the ends out. You’re right we barely have family time.”
“Thank you,” you said smiling as you allowed those tears to run down your cheeks. 
“I’ll do better as your husband. It wasn't my intention to not cuddle and hold you tightly while we sleep. Baby you know you can always smack me in the head or do that cute silly little thing you do and crawl underneath my arms if you want to cuddle with me,” he said to you, and you let out a small giggle. 
He chuckled too as he removed one hand from around your waist to cradle your cheek. “Lastly, this is about our sex life. If I make you feel physical pain, or uncomfortable at any time during intercourse you need to let me know because the last thing I want to do is hurt you. In your diary you said that you wanted to suggest the last time we had sex. I want you to tell me what it is.”
Your face heated up immediately, why would he have to bring that up now. Couldn’t he have waited until a better time. But nonetheless despite the obvious look of embarrassment on your face you whispered, “I was wondering if… if…”
“Yes?” 
“I was wondering if we could try something outside the usual vanilla sex,” you said to him, and he cocked his eyebrow towards you. “It’s not that I don’t enjoy vanilla sex, I love having vanilla sex with you and you know how to be rough when you need to be. But I thought it would be nice if we could do something different.” 
“What do you suggest?” he asked with a sunning grin on his face. 
“Maybe we could try using some sex toys.” 
“Sex toys heh?” he said, and you quickly covered up your face with your hands. “I’m open, I don’t mind getting a few sex toys here and there for us to use. I can order us a few online on another day.”
“Ok…”
“Good girl. I love you.” he whispered as he kissed your lips. "I promise I'll be a better husband for you."
“I love you too, Satoru.”
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girlgenius1111 · 11 hours
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new world
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alexia struggles with the adjustments that come with parenthood cw: angst + fluff, mentions of anxiety
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Alexia liked to think of herself as a calm person. Good in a crisis. She always had a level head, regardless of whatever was going on. 
As she stood, though, cradling your newborn daughter in her arms, tears streaming down her cheeks, she felt anything but calm. She felt overwhelmed and terrified and happy and proud. Most of all, she felt love, filling her whole body, until looking down at Mila’s little face felt like all she could do, all she ever wanted to do. 
Alexia thought she knew love. She loved her parents, she loved her sister. She loved you, more than she could comprehend sometimes. This little baby in her arms, that had her eyes, she noted, was so indescribably perfect. Alexia knew her, somehow. Her tiny little nose, the wisps of hair on her head. The way her little hand barely wrapped around Alexia’s pinky. This perfect little baby that was hers, and yours, and she was so overcome with love for Mila, and love for you, that all she could do was sit. Sit, stare at her baby in her arms, and cry. Alexia wasn’t a crier, not really. Here she was, though. And she didn’t care. You and Mila mattered more than anything in the world ever had, and ever would again. 
“Ale?” You said groggily, pulling her out of her thoughts. She turned to you and the look of wonder on her face that had been there since she laid eyes on your baby girl for the first time remained, even now, a few hours later. You smiled sleepily, the drugs from the c-section making you rather exhausted, not to mention the numerous hours you spent in labor. “Come sit.” 
Your wife walked closer, sliding onto the hospital bed next to you. Mila looked absolutely tiny in her arms, and Alexia removed one arm to wrap around your shoulders, and carefully pulled you into her. “How are you, mi amor?” 
“Perfect.” You mumbled back, resting your head on her shoulder. She delicately kissed your forehead. 
“Perfect? Are you sure?” 
“Well, I just had my abdomen cut open and my organs briefly removed. But I woke up to see you holding our baby and I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy before. It got scary for a bit there.” You told her quietly, voice thick with emotion. Mila had been… rather reluctant to come out. You’d been in labor for almost a full 24 hours before the doctors decided you weren’t progressing fast enough, the baby was under stress from the position she was in, and they took you straight to surgery. It had been the most painful 24 hours of your life, and the scariest of Alexia’s. 
“I love you. And I am so proud of you, you did so well, mi niña, so well,” Alexia assured you, focusing on the feeling of having you both close to her, and not the anxiety still swirling around inside of her. 
She didn’t know, though, that the anxiety would remain. It wasn’t temporary, a product of her baby’s delivery. It was the start of an almost constant level of stress she faced. Because she felt new levels of love and happiness that day. And with that, came the fear that something would happen to take it all away. 
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Alexia remembered that day so well, the day Mila was born. The best day of her life. She remembered how scared she was. You’d promised her that with time, that fear would fade, and she’d fall into a more comfortable routine of having a tiny human being completely reliant on her. 
The fear didn’t fade. The terror whenever she thought something might be wrong with her baby girl didn’t fade. The anxiety didn’t go anywhere; if anything, it strengthened. Until there she was; sitting in her daughter’s nursery, 3 months later, knees pulled to her chest, just watching the baby sleep. It was the only time she felt calm anymore, really, when she had Mila, and preferably you, in her sight. Safe. If Mila was somewhere else, something might happen. If someone else was holding her, something might happen. If she went too far for a match, or didn’t call to check in enough, something could happen. And she wouldn’t be able to stop it, or fix it. It was a different kind of fear, Alexia realized. The overwhelming sensation that if something were to happen, to you or to Mila, it wouldn’t be something she could recover from. 
So, she stayed home with the two of you, as much as possible. Barring visitors for weeks, even her mom and her sister. If you were all together, under one roof, nothing could happen. It was alright, then, those weeks she had off for maternity leave. Eventually, though, they came to an end and Alexia had to return to training, return to her first love; football. And she still loved it, still needed it. 
But being away from the both of you was so difficult. She was anxious constantly, checking her phone constantly, near tears constantly. Mila was so small. Alexia could practically hold her in one hand. And the birth hadn’t been easy for you, nor had the postpartum phase. Leaving the house felt like leaving her sanity behind, and she didn’t know how to fix it. 
She thought she must be a terrible mother, if she was this scared all the time over nothing. She didn’t want to be a helicopter parent, but she couldn’t help being overprotective of her baby. She just wanted you both safe and happy. 
Which is how she found herself where she was now; awake in the middle of the night. Just watching your little girl sleep, feeling some semblance of relief knowing, visually seeing, that Mila was okay.
Until Mila started to breathe weirdly, in a way Alexia was sure she’d never heard before. Then, the familiar terror, increased about a 100x, filled her chest, and she was taking Mila into her arms, and rushing down the hall to where you were peacefully sleeping. 
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“Amor! Wake up, please,” Alexia pleaded. You stirred, sitting bolt upright when you noticed Alexia had Mila in her arms. 
“What, what is it?” You asked frantically, taking in the absolutely terrified look on your wife’s face. Terror filled you and you rose from the bed, hovering over the baby. 
“Something is wrong, she is breathing weird.”
“Let me see.” You replied, taking Mila out of Ale’s arms easily and cradling her close to your chest. Nothing seemed amiss; she had the hiccups, something she’d had a hundred times. She was half asleep, gazing up at you through cracked lids, and one of her hands lazily moved, searching for your pinkie to grab on to.  
“Hey, little one,” you murmured, before turning your attention back to Alexia. “She has the hiccups?” 
You were slightly grumpy at being woken up for the hiccups, but your annoyance faded when you saw Alexia shaking her head rapidly, fighting back tears. 
“No, no, something is not right. She making a snuffling sound, it is not normal and I do not know what it is or when it started and I think we should take her to the hospital just in case because-” 
“Alexia, breathe.” You interrupted, beginning to understand what was going on with her. 
“NO, amor, please, we can just go please, let me put her in the car and we can go get her checked out.” Alexia cried, and you looked between her and the baby, wondering who needed you more at the moment. You decided it was Alexia, considering Mila had dozed back off. She wasn’t even hiccuping anymore, she was completely normal, completely fine. You placed her on the little cot next to your bed, the one she no longer slept in unless it was during the day, and you wanted her near you. 
“Amor, no we have to go,” Alexia wheezed, pulling gently at the back of your shirt. She was really panicking now, her mind seemingly in a million different places. 
Mila let you put her down easily, and you turned back to your wife, taking her face in between your hands. 
“Alexia, relax. It’s just the hiccups. Mila is fine, completely fine. She isn’t even making a sound anymore, she’s asleep.” She shrugged your hands off to step closer to the cot, looking intently at the slumbering baby. Alexia was rapidly breathing, her hands clenching and unclenching into fists at her side. 
“She is okay?” She asked quietly, turning back to you. 
“She’s fine, my love.” You assured her, opening your arms and letting Alexia fall into them easily. Even though she seemed convinced, now, that Mila was okay, she was still panicking, her rapid exhales hitting the skin of your shoulder as she tried to regulate her breathing. 
“Cariño, I do not know what is happening,” she whispered. “I cannot breathe, please do something.” 
Now Alexia was begging you to help her, and you felt your heart break a little at the fact that she was so clearly afraid for Mila she didn’t even think of herself until she was sure the baby was okay. 
“You’re okay, my love. Mila is okay, I am okay, and you are okay. We’re all fine, we’re all safe.”
“It does not feel safe,” she murmured, and you felt a teardrop hit your skin. 
“Oh, baby.” You sighed, pulling out of Alexia’s strong grip even when she tried to pull you back in. You picked Mila up, and she squirmed slightly, but her eyes fluttered shut again, and you turned to Alexia, holding your daughter out to her. “Take her.”
“Cariño,” Alexia began to object. 
“No, Ale, take our daughter.” You insisted, and Alexia relented, holding Mila close to her spasming chest. You wrapped your arms around the both of them, fitting your face into the crook of Alexia’s neck, gently stroking the baby’s head. 
“She’s okay, baby. She’s right here with you, where nothing can hurt her. Look at her, Alexia. She’s perfectly fine, right?” 
“Sí, she’s okay.” Alexia mumbled shifting Mila over to one arm, pulling you even closer with her other one. “And you are okay?” 
“I am fine, my love. You are okay, too.”
“I am okay too.” Alexia repeated, as if trying to convince herself of it. “It was just the hiccups.” 
You decided to push, just a little, even when Alexia didn’t take her eyes away from her baby in her arms. “She’s had the hiccups before, amor. What happened?” 
“I- I do not know. It seemed different.” Alexia sniffled. You weren’t used to seeing her this distraught. 
You were exhausted yourself, or you would have seen it sooner; the bags under Alexia’s eyes, the slump in her shoulders, the pacing, the anxiety that had completely taken her over. You saw it now, though, like a veil had been lifted in the dim room, and you saw how utterly broken your wife looked. 
“Ale, put her down for a second.” You encouraged. She frowned but did as you asked, her hands gently and expertly maneuvering Mila back into her little cot. “Look at me, please.” 
She turned to you, and you brought a hand up to cup her cheek. “You haven’t been sleeping.” 
“No.” She admitted. “Not a lot.” 
“Why?” 
“I like to watch her sleep.” Alexia said softly, her eyes flickering back over to Mila’s sleeping form, before they focused back on you. 
“Can you tell me why you’re staying up late, watching our baby sleep, instead of sleeping yourself?” You asked. Alexia’s eyes fluttered shut, and when they opened again, they were filled with tears. 
“I have so much fear, all the time. That something is going to happen, and I will not be able to protect her. I love her so much, it is terrifying, amor. I do not know how to be a mom. I do not know how to do this, and I feel like I am doing a terrible job. I just love her, I just want her to be okay,” she sobbed, burying her face into your shoulder. 
“Oh, Ale.” You sighed, pulling her back with you onto the bed until she was laying with her head on your chest, in between your legs. This had clearly been building up for a while, and there wasn’t much you could do while she was so upset. You let her cry into you for a few minutes, running your hands through her hair, and holding her close. The time gave you the opportunity to think, and decide exactly how you were going to approach this. 
“A few months ago, when I freaked out. When Mila wouldn’t sleep without me holding her, and I was so exhausted and anxious, and I convinced myself I was a horrible mother. What did you tell me?” You asked, feeling Alexia tense under you. It wasn’t a fond memory, you falling into her arms and crying, so hard, and for so long, you were almost sick. The worst part was that Alexia hadn’t noticed you were struggling. 
Alexia’s accent was thicker when she spoke, her voice raspy. “I told you that it is an adjustment, and nothing is perfect right away. You are a great mother. That when it is hard, you just need to ask for help, and I will be there.” 
“Does that not apply to you, too?” 
“It is different.” Alexia argued, but you shook your head. 
“No, it’s the same. You’re having a hard time. You need to talk to me, so I can help, not keep it all inside until you break. This is normal, Ale, having increased anxiety after becoming a parent, but you don’t have to feel like this. There are things we can do to make it better, you don’t have to handle it all yourself. Just like I don’t.” 
Your wife didn’t say anything for a while, just wrapped her arms tight around you, and pulled you closer to her. “I am sorry. I should have said something sooner.” 
Trying to get Alexia to be honest about her feelings was something you still struggled with, though she was much better than she had been when you got together. 
“It’s alright, baby. I know this is hard for you. You don’t need to be perfect. You’re doing so well, though, Ale. Juggling all of this with work. You’re so good with her, and I am so proud of you.” Your words were reminiscent of what Alexia had said to you in the hospital, a detail that wasn’t lost on either of you. 
Alexia’s face grew red and she turned slightly to bury her face in your shirt; only you could make her blush like that, and she hoped you never stopped.  “Te amo.” She murmured. 
“I love you, Ale. And so does Mila.” You promised. 
Almost as if on cue, Mila began to cry in her little cot, clearly awake and annoyed that her parents were nearby, and not holding her. Alexia rolled off you, but you shook your head, pushing her back down onto the bed as you picked up your daughter. 
“No, you need sleep. M and I will stay here with you, and you sleep, okay?” You climbed into the bed next to her, laying Mila easily on your chest. She settled instantly, letting out a content little sigh, and Alexia layed down too, her face level with the baby’s. She traced a finger over the small slope of the baby’s nose, over her little eyebrows. Sleepily, Mila reached for her Mami’s hand, happily gripping on to one of her fingers, her eyes fluttering shut. You watched with an almost overwhelming amount of love in your body as Alexia’s eyes shut, too, her hand connected with your daughter’s. Both of them safe, and happy, and perfect. 
--------
not super sure how i feel about this but thought it was a cute / angst mostly fluffy fic :) also... i'd def be down to write more about these 3!
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all4yoi · 2 days
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only you
𝑒nhypen x fem!reader ⚹ cw. part 2 of just a game , hyung line , 2nd pov , ︎ fluff / comfort , lowercase intended , crying , cliche fluff omfg , karina mentioned on heeseung's & wonyoung on sunghoon's , not proofread ! part one here !
after catching them holding hands with another female, you walk away from them and they run after you, assuring you it was all a misunderstanding.
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★ LEE HEESEUNG (0.5k words)
the day was coming to an end and heeseung has yet to find you.
after he had politely rejected karina, he ran after you but to no avail. all of his attempts on trying to reach you was a bootless errand. everytime he had seen a glimpse of you - whether in the cafeteria, library, the hallways, and god even in your shared class - you somehow always found a way to avoid him.
he could've simply gave up and moved on, he could've ran back to karina and date her instead. but he didn't want to give up and move on, he didn't want to run back to karina and date her, because what he wanted- needed, was you.
heeseung didn't want to go home yet, he needed to see you and explain everything. he'd be a fool to let you out his reach especially now that he knows you feel the same for him. he wasn't going to lose you because of a stupid mistake he made.
spotting a familiar figure sitting underneath a tree in the university's garden, he silently walked towards them, his fingers crossed hoping that he's finally found you.
and as if the universe was on his side, he saw you gorgeously flipping through a book with your pink earphones on. heeseung silently sat beside you, hoping you won't run away from him again. he saw how you stiffened and how your fingers stopped playing with the book's pages, and he wanted nothing but to hold your hand. it was your hand he wanted to hold- no one else's. you may not be with him yet, but ever since he realized he liked you, he was already yours before you even knew.
"y/n," he started softly, gently removing one earbud from your ear so you could hear him. you let him and look at him with hesitance, scared that he's here to tell you that he's changed his mind and he likes karina now instead.
heeseung smiled softly at you, "please let me talk and explain everything, okay?" you nodded, feeling your throat clogging up. "karina, you know she's one of my good friends, right? when you saw me holding her hand a while ago, she was the one who took my hand. i was so taken aback by her confession that i completely froze-..
because she's like a sister to me and you're the one i want. you're the one i need.. the one i like." he paused, brows furrowed in worry, hoping you'd understand. "i'm sorry for letting her hold my hand, and i'm sorry for hurting you. i really really like you y/n, please let me redeem myself to you." he finished, a small hesitant smile in his face as he studied yours.
feeling overwhelmed, you burst into tears. heeseung panicked, thinking he said something wrong and brought you to his chest, wrapping his arms around you.
"i thought you'd choose her over me." you cried in his chest, your own arms wrapping around his waist. heeseung didn't know why, but even when you were crying in his chest with your arms wrapped around his waist, he was feeling over the moon.
shaking his head, he pulled you closer if it was even possible and mumbled in your hair, "i'll choose you in a room full of other girls baby. only you."
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other members utc!
★  PARK JONGSEONG (0.5k words)
3 hours was enough space right? jay liked to think it was, he was too impatient and just wanted to run to you and explain everything, but he knew you probably didn't want to see him after what you've witnessed.
jay had tried to put himself in your shoe, imagining seeing you holding hands with another boy after confessing to you- by the thought of it alone already made him feel ten times more worse, he hated himself with how much pain he had caused you.
so instead of waiting until tomorrow, jay took his bag and walked out of the cafeteria, ignoring his friends that were calling for him. he already knew where to find you, after all, he's always had his eyes on you ever since the first semester started.
jay muttered a quiet 'good afternoon' to the librarian before making a beeline towards the back of the library and there you were in your element. laptop open, headphones on with multiple books on the table you've occupied.
he liked to think that his type were girls that were a bit dumb so that he could lead the relationship, but when it comes to you? smart, pretty, and soft spoken? if his heart could speak, he's certain that the only word it can mutter is your name, and he's not ashamed to admit that.
the moment you looked up and made eye contact with him almost made his knees give up if it weren't for him holding on to a shelf to stabilize himself, and when you softly smiled at him despite what you saw that morning, it made him yearn for you more. he wouldn't ask for no one else.
call him cliché but you were the only one for him.
"what are you doing there? come sit." you motioned on the empty seat across from you to which he occupied immediately. "have you eaten?"
"have you?" he questioned back, eyeing the papers and books splattered on the table. "i had coffee." was your reply.
jay knew that you were still upset, it was showing in your body language. you were tense, stiff, and your fingers were shaking behind your laptop. he wanted to punch himself for making you feel this way.
"i'm sorry y/n, i really am." the hum you let out made him continue, his eyes studying your pretty face silently. "it's really not what it looked like-"
"everyone says that jay." the way you bit your lip told him that you didn't mean to cut his sentence off and be so harsh.
"yes, i know, it's stupid but i'm telling the truth. she bumped into me and fell, i couldn't just leave her on the floor because everyone saw our collision so i offered her a hand. that was it, i was about to walk away but she introduced herself and insisted on shaking hands.. then you saw me.
i know it looked so wrong from your perspective without context, and i'm sorry for upsetting you. i really had no other intentions, i was telling you the truth when i told you that night that i like you too, so much." he reached out for your hand, sighing in relief when you didn't pull away.
you nodded your head in understanding, squeezing his hand to tell him you now understand. "i'm sorry for jumping into conclusions and not hearing you out the first time."
he shook his head, squeezing your hand back. "it's okay, i understand. we're good now?" chuckling at him, you nodded and smiled at him. "we are, thank you."
★ SIM JAEYUN (0.4k words)
the tears in your eyes as you walked away from him made his heart crack. should he run after you? will you find him annoying? do you want him to run after you or do you want nothing to do with him now?
after arguing with himself on his head, he ran after you and engulfed you in a hug before you could turn around the corner and disappear from his sight. "please let me explain." his own voice cracked, and the weird looks you both received from the other students did not faze him at all.
"jake, not here please. they're looking at us.." he hastily took your hand and led you into an empty classroom, wanting nothing more than to assure you that what you thought is wrong and all he wanted was only you.
after he had made sure the door was locked and no one else was hiding somewhere, he immediately took your hands in his rubbing the back of your palm with his thumb.
you didn't know what to feel, was this how he held that girl's hand too? did he hold hers with gentleness too? with that in thought, your tears were back.
"no no, please don't cry. it was all a misunderstanding i promise." he held your face and wiped away the tears, his eyes held worry but so much love as well.
"she mistook me as her boyfriend, it didn't even last for 10 seconds because the moment she held my hand we both pulled away from each other.. it was just wrong timing that you saw it and we made eye contact, please believe me." he was practically crying with you right now, his own tears cascading down the apple of his cheeks.
you frantically nodded your head - now you were the one panicking at the sight of his tears. "i do, thank you for explaining. please don't cry." his tears were wiped with your thumbs as you hugged him tight.
"i don't want you to ever think i'm lying to you, you're really all i need." he explained further through his sobs, his arms tightening around you more.
there you two were, hugging each other in an empty room, tears falling down from both of your eyes as you comforted each other. and at that moment, no one else mattered - it was just the both of you in the world.
★ PARK SUNGHOON (0.6k words)
to say that sunghoon felt like shit the whole day yesterday and this morning was an understatement. he had desperately contacted you in all your social media accounts - fucking christ he even contacted you through your school's email, but to no avail, he was always left ignored.
he didn't blame you though, if he was to experience and see what you did yesterday, he would act the same - maybe even worse. sunghoon wanted nothing more but to make it up to you, to explain that he was only doing wonyoung a favor to make her crush jealous. i guess you could blame him for agreeing, but did he really have a choice when she just randomly grabbed him and told him to smile at every passing student? maybe.
he had texted wonyoung that same afternoon, telling her- demanding her politely? to explain everything to you, she told him she did but was only left on read by you. the girl apologized profusely to you and sunghoon, she didn't have any idea about the two of you and if she did - she wouldn't have done what she did.
but what's done is done, and now sunghoon is still trying to desperately reach you. throughout the day, he would hear your name coming out of other people's mouth, but not once did he catch a single glimpse of you. sunghoon was running out of options, he didn't want to be that type of guy to show up infront of your door step in fear of crossing boundaries, but he was seriously considering doing it today.
sunghoon mentally chanted your name in his head as if that would help and summon you, and you know what? maybe it did work because now he was seeing you standing across from him, your back facing towards him as you looked at the bulletin board.
not wasting any time, he raced towards you and gently grabbed your forearm, successfully turning your attention from the bulletin board to the taller boy behind you. sunghoon wanted the ground to swallow him whole when he saw how your face dropped at the sight of him.
"let's talk, please?" he whispered that only you could hear, glancing around the corridor before looking back at you. the small hesitant nod was everything he needed before he lead you in an empty hall as everyone was in the cafeteria.
sunghoon took his chance and took you in, loving the way you've dressed yourself today and he wanted to just keep you in his arms all day, but he reminded himself that he needed to clear things up and make you his girlfriend obviously before he could even do that.
"wony already explained everything, i'm sorry for assuming the wrong thing.." sunghoon was taken aback by your sudden apology, and the tightness in his chest grew.
he took your face in his hand, gently bringing your chin up so he could look you in the eye. "i should be the one apologizing.. i'm sorry for making you feel that way, i didn't have any other intentions towards her and i only like you.. so much to the point that it hurts. i'll do anything to prove it to you."
he couldn't understand that someone so precious as you could grow such feelings for him, he couldn't process and believe that he's important to someone he finds important too. should he be punished by the gods above because he finds your teary eyes enchanting? he could see his reflection in your eyes and the love it carries, and somehow he finally understands. sunghoon feels warm as he brought you to his chest, tucking your head in the crook of his neck.
"i'll show you, i'll give you my everything and my forever. you're it for me."
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xxstargirlx-x · 2 days
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"Little Warrior" Part 3/3 (Feyd-Rautha X Reader Smut)
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Can be read independently, but I recommend checking out my master list for the previous parts (oooo the buildup!) Long awaited, enjoy!<3
Warnings and tags: (minors DNI) Smut, overstim, arranged marriage wedding night, lovey-dovey Feyd
Feyd wasn't concerned when you didn't show up for breakfast the day of your wedding. Not now, when he knew your reasoning. The thought of you being locked in your quarters, trying to distract yourself from him and the unholy thoughts you harboured of your betrothed amused him wickedly. How you had to physically stay away from him, to keep yourself pure and innocent before your wedding night like you were taught drove him crazy. The promise he had made last night, to ravage you as soon as you were declared his wife was one he intended to keep, if it was the last thing he did.
He imagined you being just as eager, keeping busy in whatever way possible to stay in control of your urges. Perhaps scribbling down your impure thoughts in the leatherbound journal he saw you trying to hide one night. Oh, what he would give to read the nasty thoughts your beautiful head collected. Or perhaps you were trying on all the jewels and gowns he had gotten you. Cheekily, he imagined how you slipped the lush fabrics onto your bare body, swaying in the grand mirror as you took in the gifts he'd gotten just for you. He'd rip them right off of your body and just get you new ones again. And again. And again.
The thought made him snicker, earning him a strange look from his uncle at the other side of the table. But he was right about your current state. Indeed, you were pacing your room in one of the rather scandalous nightgowns your soon to be husband had brought you from Caladan. It must've been from a shop you had never dared to enter back when you had lived there. Had lived there. What a strange thought, how your entire world had changed so drastically. You were to become the na-Baroness of the Harkonnen, for heaven's sake!
With the thrill that came with the thought, an equal amount of panic now set in. You needed to be flawless. A perfect picture of Harkonnen power. And eyeing the simple silk gown and the equally as uninteresting veil that were made for you back on Caladan, you realized they just wouldn't suffice. You wanted him to see you for what you were, not what you were forced to be back on Caladan. Something powerful, something wicked of it's own nature. Not just a simple, soft bride. You knew that's something neither of you wanted.
Feyd, still sitting at the grand breakfast table looked up in surprise as he saw an armada of servants rush down to your wing of the fortress, fabrics and boxes filled with ornaments in hand. What were you planning? You had called for them, asking for the finest of traditional Harkonnen wear and current trends to be delivered to your room at once. A request that would've been met with hesitancy and question back home, but not here. Here, they listened when you spoke. And with a smirk, you took in as all the items you had requested were being stacked into your room. It had taken them less than an hour to acquire it all. This was something you could get used to.
And so you got to work. With Feyd's blade clutched into your hand, you slashed and cut, separated and deconstructed your gown, working in the new fabrics and all the breathtaking Harkonnen ornaments. Time flew by as you worked and you saw the sun was setting when you eyed your finished wedding ensemble. This was it. You had done it. Perfection. You even caught one of your servants running her hand down the gown, fawning to her colleague at the beauty and craftsmanship she took in. "She will set many trends, our new Baroness. I'm sure of it." She had whispered when she thought you'd left the room, and it put a huge grin on your face. Indeed, she was right.
And soon enough, they had ushered you into a chair to prepare you for the ceremony which was set to happen so very soon. Traditional Harkonnen bridal makeup was applied, reminding you a tad of a very feminine battle paint. Dark eye makeup and minimalistic, sharp lines and patterns adorned your beautiful features. It was breathtaking indeed, it would've looked out of place with your old gown. With the new one, you were sure to knock your betrothed to his knees. And on his knees you'd hope he ends up on indeed.
Feyd had not gone easy on himself and his servants either. He was the only man worthy of your hand, as written, a felt by the two of you. And he wanted to prove it to you more than ever before. No expense was spared, no detail of his appearance or the venue left untouched. You were to marry in the massive ballroom of the fortress, a breathtaking location. And he was sure you'd make it look pathetic in comparison to your godly presence. You were to be his wife. How could karma be real when a bloodthirsty bastard like him would end up with an earth shatteringly divine woman like you? He thanked every god he could potentially think of as he made his way down the aisle, halting at the altar.
This was it. His bride would walk down the same aisle in a few fleeting moments. And he was ready to welcome this marriage and the beauty and chaos you two would make happen like he had been waiting for it all his life. Never in his life had he been so eager, so willing to let good and pure filth at the same time into his life. And suddenly, the grand doors swung open with a booming sound. My Wife. He thought as he saw your stunning, familiar face. There you were. And as he looked down to take in your body, he felt his heartbeat in every inch of his body, like he'd explode from his own bodies' physical reaction.
Your form fitting gown, the harkonnen leathers that mingled with the gentle white silk. And in the midst of it all, his blade strapped to your hip. You looked like a Harkonnen prophecy. He swore then and there that you were the first and only person in all the galaxies that could bring him to his knees. He would kneel before you like a lost sinner who'd found his salvation. Equally as infatuated, you took in your betrothed. Stood in all his glory, bearing leathers of the same nature that adorned your wedding dress, and a matching blade strapped to his hip. You had learned of this Harkonnen custom, had made use of it for this special day.
And his heart clenched at the sentiment. But so did yours when you saw your birthstone, only found on Caladan pinned onto the chest of his leather tunic. He'd always been minimalistic, not wearing any jewellery with the exception of his house ring, but he swore he'd never take off the stone that adorned his chest now. His wife's stone. And his eyes seemed to light up more with every step you took toward him. Being walked down the aisle, handed over like on other planets wasn't tradition on Giedi Prime. So you walked alone and you basked in the attention of the enormous crowd, but most of all, your soon to be husband who waited eagerly.
His gaze was so focused on you, so sharp that just from his eyes alone, you could tell exactly what he was waiting for, what he was intending to do to you. To keep the promise he had made you last night. And the thought propelled your feet forward even faster, your body moving like he was calling out for it. When you finally stood before him, looking up at the man who looked back with all the promise and affection in the world, you felt the entire room go silent. The empirical drums, the eager crowd, the priest...they all faded away. You were asked to speak your vows, asked to accept him as your husband and you couldn't even focus, just staring up into those damn eyes...
You just muttered your agreement, repeated after the priest and followed all the traditions with nothing but one thing on your mind...to get out of here as soon as possible with your husband. His thoughts were the exact same. The actual ceremony was a blur, formalities neither of you cared for. But when he suddenly dropped down to one knee before you, holding his blade to his heart a booming gasp went through the crowd. "Feyd..." You gasped out in shock, in total infatuation. He simply smiled back, a sweet wicked smile. You had read of this Harkonnen tradition in one of the many books you'd indulged in to distract yourself these past few days.
It was an ancient tradition, rarely ever used amongst the Harkonnen. He'd just performed the lover's plead. Only to be read about in the most infamous, powerful Harkonnen love stories, captured in history books for how rare and special it was. To see a royal Harkonnen warrior kneel before his wife, plead his blade to her in front of such an audience...it was an eternal promise, a vow of love, of pure faith and dedication. And it was used sacredly, not in simple arranged marriage. It was used for love, for people who would die for each other in a heartbeat. Which is precisely why barely any Harkonnens performed it.
But your husband did. Most people in the audience had never seen the lover's plead in real life, thought it was a simply tale that romantic historians liked to spread, in order to sell books of heroic lovers. But he proved to them all how real it was, how real his love for you was. When he finally rose again, it was to wipe away the stray tear that had made its way down your rosy cheek. "Do not cry, wife. It is my job to keep your eyes dry from now on." You simply smiled at him. "With the unholy power invested in me by the former Baron of the Harkonnen, I now pronounce you husband and wife. The new Baron and Baroness of Giedi Prime. Long shall they live and reign!" The priest spoke and before the crowd could echo back the words, "Long shall they live and reign!" your husband had thrown you over his broad shoulder and was carrying you out of the room in long, powerful strides.
He had a promise to keep after all. You giggled and flailed your legs jokingly as he carried you through the halls of the fortress so effortlessly, which landed you a stinging smack on the ass. "Ow, Feyd!" You had called in surprise, but your husband simply smiled as his hand stayed where it had made the impact. "Don't try to put up any fights, Baroness." And before you saw it, he had skipped right past your quarters and kicked open the doors to his instead, dragging you right in. You felt the adrenaline bubble up inside of you, how fiercely he would just take what he wanted...it drove you wild. You expected him to throw you onto the bed, but no...
He gently put you down in front of the grand mirror stood before his bed, coming up behind you to sneak a hand around your waist as his breath fanned the side of your neck. "You look breathtaking..." He whispered hoarsely as he took you in. And in a split second you heard the unsheathing of his blade, a smooth slash and your gown had dropped down to the floor, pooling at your feet as his breath hitched. His gaze was scanning over your bare body, taking in every single inch. And as your hands had come up to cover parts of yourself in sheer coyness, his big hands did as well, grabbing hold of your wrists to remove any obstacle from his sight.
Your arms gripped in his powerful, smooth hands, he gently guided them along your body. "You're absolutely perfect...gods..." He mumbled as you both looked at your joined figures in the mirror, and for the first time since you met, you saw Feyd-Rautha at a sincere loss for words. It was a strange feeling for him as well, so to make use of his mouth that hung agape with nothing to say, his lips found themselves on your neck. He kissed down the length of it, softly sucking at the sensitive skin as his hands traveled up your to cup your breasts. With a sharp breath, you rested your head back against his chest to give him a better angle, and you felt him smirk against your skin.
In a split second, he had turned you around, capturing your lips in his, in what you could only describe as the hungriest kiss you'd ever felt. The second kiss you had ever shared with him, and even more viciously perfect than the first. Your lips were battling for dominance, a battle of hot breath and sinful moans, your hands not resting for a split second as you explored each others bodies greedily. But it wasn't fair. You were fully naked as he remained dressed in his wedding attire, unheard of! When you pulled away, eyeing his clothed body with distate, he huffed out a dark chuckle. "Patience, my darling wife...." He rasped and you felt the heat explode in your tummy. How could you be patient with him towering before you!
He simply nudged you forward as he crashed his lips onto yours again, guiding you towards his bed. And when you fell backwards, landing on the soft comfort of your husband's place of rest with a soft oomph, he didn't miss a second to climb on top of you. Nudging your knees apart to make space for his frame in between the place he'd soon call home, that being your spread legs, his lips found your neck again. As the kisses trailed lower and lower, from your neck, to the peak of your breasts, down to your stomach, you instinctively grasped his wide shoulders to steady yourself. It was thrilling to you, how a few simple touches from your Baron could nearly send you over the edge.
"Relax for me, wife. I'm going to show you, just what exactly I dream of every night..." He rasped and when his lips found their way down to your dripping core without a warning, a devastating moan ripped through you. It was the first time you had been touched this way, and your unintended reaction was encouragement and confirmation enough for him to keep going. You tried to keep your eyes open to look at the witchcraft he had to be performing to make you feel like this, but you simply couldn't keep them open. Your mouth hung open in mutters of oh's and ah's, whining out his name when he hit that one sweet spot.
He swore he'd touched the highest peak of heaven. Your sounds, your taste, that alone was enough for him to pledge his eternal love and allegiance to you. "Look at me." He ordered , but you failed to process the words as your world was shaking and twisting in pure delight. "Look. At. Me." He rasped out now, almost painfully gripping the flesh of your thighs in silent warning. This snapped your attention back to him, desperately trying to keep your eyes open to look at him like he requested. And there he was, looking up at you as he lapped at what he now considered his and the sight sent you over the edge. Your handsome, powerful husband looking up at you from between his scandalous spot between your legs. What a hellish thought indeed, one that made you twitch and shake as you felt the peak of all pleasures wash over you.
He held you down with no effort, keeping his mouth steady on your core as your orgasm sent you shaking, crying out for him, grabbing desperately at the sheets beneath you. He didn't stop as he felt you crashing down from the wave though, he kept kissing and lapping as he felt your body still. He wouldn't have it end just yet, the man was enjoying this too much. Had been waiting for far too long just to play by your rules. But that was over now. "Feyd..." You whined out, feeling like you needed a second to catch your breath and and sanity after the spiritual experience you just had, still twitching and sensitive.
"Uh uh, no." He simply stated between flicks of his tongue. "You got another one in you, my Baroness." He rasped and you felt the heat bubbling up inside of you once again, your legs twitching as you tried to bring some distance between your body and your husband's relentless lips.
But he held you in place firmly, even after you had whined out undecipherable pleads for him to give you a short break. He was stubborn. And just like he wished, he felt your second orgasm crashing down on him like hell, your arousal coating every inch of his lips. Your moans filled the entirety of his huge room, sounding like a mix of unmeasurable pleasure and raging pleas for mercy. It drove him wild, and he was rock hard as he watched your face contort in pleasure. "That's it beautiful, beautiful wife...look at what you get for obeying me, hm?"
You felt drunk with pleasure, barely being able to nod as he brushed a damp strand of hair from your sweat bathed forehead. All you could think about was making him feel the way you just felt, giving your husband back the pleasure he'd made you feel.b"Do I...return the favor now?" You managed to mumble out innocently, breathlessly, earning you a humored laugh from your husband who shook his head and looked down at you affectionately. He brought his lips to yours again, making you taste the result of his hard work. "Baroness, you're returning the favour by looking at me like that. Just keep looking at me like that and let me do my part, my perfect, perfect wife." He rasped, sending chills down your spine, his voice barely above a whisper.
And as per instinct, your legs widened even more to accommodate his large body, but he pulled away. And it took you all your remaining dignity not to whine out in displeasure and try to grab at your husband to get him back on top of you. But he didn't dare keep you guessing for too long, merely having pulled away to slip off his own clothes. And boy, did he tease you. He felt and reveled in your hot stare on him, and you swore he took his sweet time, enjoying your hungry eyes that clung to all of his movements like sticky toffee. The knowledge that you needed him as badly as he needed you was something new to him, something so incredibly fucking hot. This pure fire, he wasn't used to it from his mindless hookups, his harpies which he'd long sent away since your arrival.
He hadn't abstained from sex for longer than a day before you came, always having at least two women at his disposal at all times. But as said, the day you came, he had gotten rid of his playthings and switched them out for his fist and nasty, nasty thoughts of you instead. The poor man had never felt so tense, so sensitive. Just the look of your naked body beneath his was a risk of a premature...happy accident. But he wasn't careful, or afraid to let himself go. You were his wife and he'd never felt this...eager to touch a woman. Not to have her touch him, but to do all the work himself, to enjoy her enjoyment. He wanted to please you more than anything, like extending an offering to a holy deity for a glimmer of her affection.
And when he stood before you, naked as you were, finally, you almost let out another whine at the sheer sight of him. His body so perfectly sculpted, his chest heaving, eyes black with pure lust and...dear god. You felt your cheeks flush at his prominently erect member, felt a sinful heat puddle up between your legs. Quickly, you looked away to meet his eyes in soft terror at the size of him. He noticed this, and with a smile, not a malicious but a knowing one, stood before you to gently take hold of your chin. "There is no room for shyness anymore, my love. I am your husband, there is nothing I do not want you to see, nothing I don't want you to do to me. Give in to me."
The confession shot straight to your heart, then to your aching core. You were on fire and though you were about to utter words of a strange nature to you, heartfelt they were regardless. "I...there is nothing I do not want you to see or...even do to me either, my dear Baron. Nothing, you have free reign. I am yours. You are mine." The hum that went through him at your words was guttoral. His eyes closed instinctively, as he leaned over you once again, nesting himself between your legs. "Long shall we live." He groaned. "And long shall we reign." You finished the vow and you felt as though something around you two had clicked.
Like the universe was content with the two of you finally united. Like the centuries of political planning and scheming of the Bene Gesserit had finally paid off at last. Not knowing where your newly found confidence came from, you spoke again. "Do it, Feyd. Show me what you dream of every night. Show me what it means to be your wif- god, Feyd!" Without any warning, he had lined himself up and pushed into you, as you back arched up underneath him, your body recoiling in pure shock. Your fingers went clawing at his back and he let out a groan as he saw your eyes rolling back in pleasure. "Feyd...please..." It was a pathetic whine, a shock of a reaction at the way he stretched you out almost painfully, but it filled him with unexplainable hunger.
"I know, I know, my love. I'll start gentle, your sweet little body isn't used to this yet, hm? Lay back, be good for me." Your eyes went wide in shock when you looked down to where your two bodies had joined, realising he was barely even half way in. Your hubby was definitely...favoured by mother nature in that regard. Though your fear was evident, you were starting get greedy, remembering how long you've had to resist this. And feeling how your legs now tightened around him, almost pulling him closer, he now slowly sheathed himself into you fully. The realisation of what was finally going down, the feeling of you two consummating your marriage at last...your moans were sinful, echoed by his own groans of ecstasy.
"Fuck...those old witches were right..." He groaned, referring to the Bene Gesserit. "...you are fucking made for me. Every inch of you, my perfect little warrior. My wife." It's like he couldn't stop calling you his wife, the sound of it just too perfect to him. And you were completely zoned out, barely able to stay on the physical plane of consciousness as he thrusted himself into you, first torturingly slow, then slowly picking up the pace as he felt you relax. Even though he was deep inside of you, the two of you as close as two humans could possibly get, you felt as though he wasn't close enough. You needed him biblically.
He was on top of you, eyes locked onto yours as one hand rubbed slow circles on your clit, while the fingers of his other hand lied tightly interlaced with yours. Who knew the feared Baron Feyd-Rautha was such a romantic lover? He hadn't known himself, had never even considered the concept of making love instead of just fucking. But with you, he was eager to be disgustingly sweet. Guess what though? You were having none of it. You were far too infatuated with the devilish side he'd shown you so many times, far too touch starved for his careful lovemaking. It was a sweet sentiment, but you needed to show him that you weren't fragile, that you wanted needed more.
The furrow of his brow was deep when you placed your hand on his chest to push him away mid thrust. His lips parted, ready to voice his concern at your sudden halt, but you stilled any and all of his thoughts as you shifted to straddle him and slide yourself down the thick length of him in s swift, determined move. The heavenly feeling of the new angle and the surprise you'd caught him by sent his head jerking forward into the nape of your neck as he bit down, not necessarily gently. You yelped in pain, but kept up your steady rhythm. You were in control, you could go as hardly, as quickly as you liked and the man beneath you saw fucking stars at how his wife fucked herself on top of him.
His hands gripped at your hips, your ass, your breasts, anything he could grasp pretty much as you felt him twitch inside of you. "Oh, husband. You're not already close, are you?" You teased and his vision went white. He was now bucking his hips from beneath you, fucking up into you without mercy to get even more friction. This completely unexpected reaction took your body by such surprise, that in a split second your walls were clenching around him as your head flew back with explosive pleasure. "Heavens, Feyd!" He wrapped your hair in his fist as he continued fucking into you. You lost count of how many orgasmic waves of ecstasy shot through your poor body, yet your husband didn't halt. With an animalistic grunt, and a few sloppy last thrusts you felt his hot cum spill inside of you of you.
But you remained seated on top of him, shaking, swearing you could pass out from how hungrily you were gasping for air. And the rhythm of his ragged breathing matched yours as he stared at you like you were the only women who'd ever existed in any moment of history ever. His mouth moved quicker than his thoughts did, his eyes glassy as if in a trance when he spoke. "I'm so fucking in love with you. What the hell have you done to me, woman?" And if you hadn't finished more times than you could count tonight, you would've finished simply from the look on his handsome face, from the words he'd just muttered to you like he had accidentally thought them out loud.
"And I am so in love with you, Feyd-Rautha. I don't care what you have done to me, but just keep doing it. Forever. Always." You replied earnestly, a sleepy, fucked-out smile spread on your flushed face. And he swore he heard his angels sing. He captured your lips in his, gentler than he had ever before and kissed you so sweetly, you feared you'd break out into a giddy giggle like a teenager after her first kiss. He didn't dare pull out of you yet, but he leaned back against the headboard and pulled you back with him. Placing his big hand over yours, he admired the sight of your matching wedding rings.
"Forever, always." He promised in agreement. And that night, you went to sleep as the happiest couple in all of the galaxies ever counted. He couldn't wait to wake up and fuck you awake over and over again, making all the servants hear you scream his name before the sun had even risen. But for tonight, he melted into you happily, like the sleepy mess he was.
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Text
It's A Special Death You Saved (Feyd Rautha x Female!Reader) pt.4 (final)
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a/n: we did it Joe! this chapter officially marks the first ever series i've completed lmao. thank you for all the support on this fic, every like, every comment, every out-of-pocket anon ask.
Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content (like...fr this time), Blood and Violence, Manipulation.
Summary: After the wedding, Husband and Wife work out the intricate web of their relationship.
Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3
Gurney looks at you as if you're already dead.
You hide from his gaze, ducking behind pillars, whenever you can hear his footsteps. It's truly depressing, the way your mentor shakes his head, as if, instead of looking at you, he's looking at a coffin. You suppose he might be right, he's the one with the most experience in the Harkonnen area. He's fought them, dined with them, seen their customs through and through. And now, his dutiful little student is about to be thrown into the very same world, he has relayed to you as a nightmarish fairytale. Still, a little misplaced optimism wouldn't kill him. Or just, a sliver of hope, an inclination that you might survive this. 
The day of your wedding rolls upon you like an oceanic storm, all chaos and rumbling. 
Here you sit, your bones locked with nerves, as the servants pack away your things. A futile thing, you muse to yourself. It's highly doubtful the Harkonnens will let you keep any personal items back from Caladan. They'll mold you into their image, until all your hair naturally falls out. The thought would make you laugh, but here's a servant, placing your jewelry into a case, which lands in a bag, which will be transported to the Harkonnen ship by the end of the day.
Your room, the place you've spent all your life in, slowly becomes more and more barren. 
The closet stands empty, so do the drawers. All your trinkets are swiftly transported away until you're left alone in your wedding dress, the only familiar thing between the hollow ribs of your life's sanctuary. Wishing you could fold the entirety of the castle, with the stables, and the horses, and the cliffs, and throw it into the final suitcase, so you can open it up in times of turmoil, and breathe in the familiar scents. You need to leave, right now. Sitting like this, wrenches a dangerous numbness out of your chest. And you can't be allowed to dissapear into yourself. You're an Atreides, you shall wear your pain with dignity, as per your Mother's wishes.
Your wedding dress swishes around you, as you stand up from your bed. It's much more classy, and less of a chiffon catastrophe, than your engagement dress, a welcome change. The veil is embroidered with light crystals and metal plating. It falls heavily over your face, and jingles when you move. By all intents and purposes, it is a dream dress. A dress you'd like to wear for a wedding of your own, a wedding with some dashing gentleman. A gentleman, which in your most private of dreams, has the face of Duncan Idaho, with silver rings braided into his hair. 
Instead, you're left with this monster, so alien and cold. A beast at the center of the maze.
The bull looks at you from the wall. Its horns, smeared with your Grandfather's blood, curl grotesquely into the ceiling. The head is mounted above the doors to the library, a grim reminder of his spectacular death. As a child, you'd spend hours, standing right here, at the entrance, staring at the animal's head. You've always wondered, whether it were the lights playing tricks on your mind, or you saw a shadow of pride in the bull's eyes. 
Did it know who was its victim? The leader of one of the most important Houses in all known universe laid dead at its feet. Did it know what sort of spectacle it produced? What destruction of hubris? You suppose it couldn't, it was an animal, after all. A headless creature, hung on a wall. Still, you stare at it, just like you used to, trying to decipher your own fate from its cold, dead eyes.  
After all, there will be a spectacle, a life-long fight stands ahead of you. Giedi Prime shall be your arena, dead and cold, covered in black. And every single Harkonnen will be your bull, their mere presence a deathly danger to your being. It took one bull to end your Grandfather, you dread to think how many it'll take to end you. There will be blood, you're sure of it. And if things were allowed to go your way, it would flow in rivers upon rivers, through the industrial halls of Giedi Prime. You'd have the entire planet drowned in their blood. Your cursed betrothed, the Baron, the fucking Emperor if you had to. 
The bull laughs at your quiet hate, beady eyes bearing down upon you in an imaginary display of indifference. You huff, cheeks reddened, insides twisted and burning.
That's how your Father finds you. Enchanted by a once living instrument of death. 
He hasn't spoken to you, since your betrothed has arrived, not really. Not like you used to talk. A way to shield himself, you supposed, from the Emperor's order, which will soon enough take his only Daughter away from him. This was your superpower. You could fish out signs of love in every action. 
- Your Mother hates that thing - he comments, as he stands next to you, eyes looking up at the bull. 
- I don't blame her, the sight is quite disturbing. - you reply evenly. 
You've missed him, more than you can possibly explain with words. But teary displays of affections were below you, especially since you're trying to distance yourself, rise above your body, float right out of your head. Perhaps it'll hurt less that way.  Duke Leto Atreides turns to you, and for the first time in a month, you recognize your Father behind this statue of authority. He looks troubled, for lack of a better word. There's much more gray on his brow and the lines of his face are darker, harsher. 
- I came to give you something - he announces, producing a small object out of the pocket of his trousers. 
It's harder than you thought, tearing your gaze away from the bull, but you manage, your eyes landing on a figurine in your Father's hands. Your heart stops, as you recognize the blackened stone, polished to perfection. On a flat disc stands a figure of a Matador, proud and posed. Next to him, a bull, ready to strike. It's cold to the touch, when you take it from your Father, ridges of the small sculpture digging into your palm. 
Jumping in front of danger, for better or worse. Your head starts to hurt.
- Father - the sound of your shaking voice carries through the corridor - How will I ever survive this?
By the way Duke Leto Atreides sucks in a sharp breath, you can deduce the answer. And what a sad answer it is. 
Your Father steps closer, gathering your trembling hands in his, the warmth of his embrace engulfing you like the first sun rays of spring. He squeezes your fingers, tightening your own hold on the small figurine, and his eyes are so incredibly sad, you're convinced they could make any heart in the universe weep. 
- With courage - he says - and grandiose. 
Like a true Matador would. 
***
Your bull stands completely still. 
His pale skin creates a beautiful contrast against the ever present darkness of the Harkonnen ship. It's so much different from your native fleet, all sleek and black, and efficient. Terrifying, but at the same time, strangely beautiful. 
The both of you watch, as the hatch is being pulled up, slowly but surely obscuring all sight of your home planet. Of your family, standing by the docking station like a funeral parade. It's only when you can no longer see them, your life sealed with a click of finality, does your betrothed, now husband, move. 
His hand grasps your upper shoulder, and you jump at the sudden contact. Your confused gaze is completely ignored, as the man drags you through the ship, taking large, hasty steps. 
Hairless faces swish past you, all so similar to each other, you're worried you'll never figure out who is who. The corridors of the ship wind and turn like a merciless labyrinth, a realization daunting on you, that you will never be able to find your way in this place. 
Suddenly, you're faced with a black door, which opens as soon as your husband walks up to it. His grip tightens and he basically throws you forward, watching you stumble through the entrance on weak legs. 
It takes you a second to gather yourself, as you instinctually settle into a defensive stance. The room you're in looks quite different from the rest of the ship. It's much more luxurious, one would risk saying cozy. With a gigantic, round bed filled with pillows, a dark desk, and a deliciously comfortable looking armchair. It all dims in your eyes, however, as you look up at your newlywed.
He stands right at the entrance, blocking the only means of escape with his tall frame.
Both of you are still in your wedding clothes. Your dress hugs your body in a way that is anything but comforting. His outfit is as black and sharp, as all his attire. It exposes his lean physique, clings to his warrior's physique. Terrifying, your brain summarizes, muscles freezing suddenly. Feyd Rautha looks at you with emotions you can't decipher in the low light of his room. Your room. Your marital abode. 
You can't breathe, lungs tighten painfull with the sheer thickness of the air between the two of you. Still, there's a certain power, residing in your bones, an inclination of a fight you're ready to put up, should he try anything. And by the way his brow bone settles over his darkened eyes, your husband seems to understand. What a terrifying thought. The sheer idea of finding a common ground with this awful man makes your guts turn. 
He doesn't even flinch, when the doors behind him slide open. You however, nearly jump out of your skin at the sound, cutting through the deafening silence of the bedroom. With furrowed brow you watch, as three Harkonnen women spill into the room. All of them completely hairless, lips pulled back in feral snarls, as they regard you with an emotion you can only interpret as contempt. Their bodies, clad in typical, Harkonnen garments, flow and slither, when they gather behind your husband, like three hungry lionesses, their black eyes flickering to him, to you. 
- Get her ready - Fey Rautha throws a command over his shoulder, eyes glued to you still, and his gaze drags itself across your body like tar.
This is the first time you've heard him speak since the wedding, and involuntarily, you cringe at the gravely sound. While he stayed silent, it was easy to forget who you're dealing with. But as soon as sound leaves his mouth, you're cruelly reminded of the roughness, and the strangeness of your life's partner. 
The three women stir behind him, hands sliding up his body in a gesture, that is almost too close to reverence. He does look like a young god, like some ethereal being, but you're too distressed to dwell on that thought. Instead, your arms encircle your body, a shiver of terror and strangely, disgust flowing over you, at the mere idea of these women touching you. Then, one of those three strange creatures moves forward. She has a stripe of black running down her bottom lip, and her face twists into a cruel smile.
She says something in a language you don't recognize. Probably a native Harkonnen. A rough bark, her disgusted expression translating the meaning better, than any dictionary would. 
 Still, you have no time to process the foreign insult, because as soon as words leave her mouth, your husband turns. His white hand grabs the woman's hairless head, as one would pick an apple from an orchard, and then, you see a flicker of true terror flash through the woman's face. In a smooth, deadly gesture, Feyd Rautha smashes her face against the wall, the resounding sound of her skull fracturing against the concrete is like the cracking of a whip in your ears. 
That's all it takes, one move, and she falls into a lifeless heap, sliding down the wall. 
A sigh escapes your lips, as your eyes stay glued to her body. You can't see her face. 
Your husband barks something towards the remaining two women, and they scurry towards you, heads hung low, bodies curled onto themselves. You don't know, whether he looks at you, acknowledges you in any way, shape or form. The doors close behind him, as he leaves you in the hands of his... Whatever these women are to him. 
They begin to strip you where you stand. Their hands peel off your wedding dress from your trembling body, and every move feels like tearing skin from muscle. You can't protest, can't do anything really. Dark, thick blood pools around the third woman's head, dripping between the tilled floor, slowly making it's way closer to your feet. 
When they pull you towards the bed, you say nothing. Let them massage your body with some ointment, which smells of heavy chemicals and scratches your throat. 
Their hands are unexpectedly delicate. You suppose they're too scared to take revenge on you, or perhaps, they just don't care. Doesn't really matter, because you do. You really care, despite yourself. Heart squeezes in your chest impossibly tight, when they help you up from the bed, and once again you're confronted with the white corpse in the corner of the room. 
The dress they pull over your body hardly qualifies as a garment in your eyes. It's made of delicate, sheer material, which barely covers anything, looking more like a courtain thrown over a window. 
Is this how he wants you, you wonder. Terrified, bare, always on the verge of something, be it tears or anger. 
One of the women steps in front of you, takes your hands in hers and rubs something into your cold bones. You try to catch her eye, try to decipher how to categorize them, as humans or as creatures, but she swiftly ducks under your inquisitive gaze. That is, until your eyes flicker towards the corpse once again. 
Her hand shoots up towards your chin, dragging you back to meet her onyx eyes. You can see the reflection of your own confused face in the void.
- You- she rasps, her voice a grating symphony of gurgles and growls that stumble over the common language - Soft.
Whether it's a warning, or a threat, you can't fully decide, but it doesn't matter. Those two words tell you more about your future life, than any book, any archived account. This is what the Harkonnens are made of. Sensless violence, outbursts of anger, dark blood. You swallow thickly, and nod, your expression hardening in the woman's eyes. She looks as if there's something else she'd want to say, but her head ducks at record speed, when the sound of the doors opening cuts through the air once more. 
For a longer moment you're completely devoid of words. 
Here stands you husband, some sort of fruit in his right hand, two daggers hanging from the belt on his trousers. His chest, white and (unfortunately) toned beyond belief stares back at you. His unoccupied hand makes a wide gesture, and the remaining two women scurry off towards their third, dead companion. With quick hands, they grab the body and drag it out of the room, letting the door slide closed behind them. Immediately, you miss their presence, unnerving as they are.
Once again, you're left alone with the na-Baron. 
His eyes float freely all over your figure, taking it in with an impassive stare. It's deeply unnerving, the way you're presented to him, the way he organized all of this, tailored it to his liking. You can't help it, the way your body begins to warm before him, skin becoming prickly to the touch, much too sensitive for the strange imitation of fabric covering it. Still, your mind stays sharp, and instinct kicks in, as you take a cautious step back, angling your bady away from him. 
- So, what now? - you ask, voice rough, eyes following his every move. 
And move he does, slowly advancing towards you. His feet, which you now discover, are bare, drag behind him. Grace and danger mix well within his movements, as he circles you, still without a word. You throat runs dry, when he bites the fruit in his hand, dark juice spilling all over his lips, drops rolling down his hands, his forearms. Your stomach churns. 
- Now - again you're reminded of the gravely tones his voice can carry - We consumate our marriage, wife. 
Somehow, your marital status sounds like a mockery spilling from his lips, and he laughs at the way your face scrunches.
- I don't want you to touch me - a lie, your entire body burns for any semblence of friction, but you're determined to keep some dignity.
To that, he nods his head in silent agreement, a gesture, which actually manages to surprise you. The fruit is thrown forgotten onto the floor. It rolls under the bed, and you fight the urge to reprimend your husband. Instead, you bite your lip. 
- I thought you would say that - he murmurs, coming closer, his breath fanning over your exposed shoulder. 
The hair at the back of your neck stands straight, and you crane your head to the side, so you can look him in the face. So he can see the disaproving expression, perhaps he'd feel a fraction of the hate boiling in your gaze. Then, you can feel something, cold and sharp, drag itself from the dip in your spine, all the way up to your shoulder blades. A gasp escapes you, and your entire body shivers violently. 
- That's why I brought these. - Feyd Rautha whispers into your ear, and you can't help but sway lightly in your place, as if his words have the power to physically move you.
Then, your hand closes around a metal object, and you look down to be met with a beautifully crafted dagger. The blade is silver, shiny, and unbelievably sharp. It fits into your grasp as if it was made specially for you, and the possibility almost makes you smile. Then, confusion creases your brow, and your husband flashes you a deadly, black smile, as he steps back a couple of steps. 
He's holding a blade as well, jet black and strangely matte, a perfect antitype of yours. There's a sort of lazy excitement about him, hidden in every movement. It reminds you of the way he'd behave in the arena, while making a spectacle of death for you and your family. 
- I though this would work on you - he muses, twirling the blade in his hand, and your muscles seize with realization. - And it definitely works on me.
The idea is preposterous, utterly scandalous. Using a fight as some perverse attempt at foreplay, your brain swimms with conflicting emotions. 
- You're being ridiculous - you attempt to diffuse the situation, but your husband doesn't budge, rolling his shoulders.
- Come on, wife - he snarls, with a sharp smirk - Don't you want to hurt me?
Something boils inside of you at his words. Some ancient, terrifying anger that you supposed, has always been there with you. From the moment you stepped onto the red carpet, leading you towards your undoing at the altar. Red, like the spilled blood still staining the floor of this bedroom. The rage, which you swallowed down, when you recited the vows, when you let him unveil your face, kiss you in front of the entire Atreides court. Now, it seeped through every pore in your skin, covering you in a tar like courtain. 
You hate your husband. You hate Feyd Rautha, the na-Baron of House Harkonnen.
Hate him for being your husband, for agreeing to this cruel match. For taking you away from your family, from your wise Father, and your strict Mother, and your sweet Brother. For ripping you away from love, which didn't even have time to properly bloom. Duncan's face dances in front of you like a taunting vision from an angry god, and your fingers tighten around the dagger. 
Feyd Rautha is right. You want to hurt him. You wanted to, before you even met him. 
- There you are - his lips pull back into a cruel, blackened smile of self-satisfaction - I was worried they took away all your venom, Viper. 
You'll show him fucking venom, you think, feet sliding on the floor, twisting your body into a dancing position. Two sets of shields click into life, and suddenly you begin to understand. 
This is your arena. This is your bull. 
This will be your battlefield for the rest of your life, for as long as you're able to withstand it. With courage and grandiose, your Father's voice haunts you, but soon after another echo rises in your mind. Your Mother, your teacher, her whisper slithers from your memory, a passing comment right before you're shipped off to Giedi Prime, when she squeezed your hand so tight, you were worried tendons under your skin would snap. 
Excitement and arousal flow freely from your husband's expression, as he watches yours harden. Something inexplicable settles over your features, a promise. You'll give him a fight of a lifetime, and he'll love it, every single time. It should unnerve you, the way his body lowers itself, like a panther ready to strike. It would've unnerved you some time ago. 
Now, however, it shows you a clear path to survival. This is how you take control.
Cold blood splatters from under your feet, as you jump towards him, a series of measured blows following closely behind. He blocks them, lets some be pushed back by the shield. Then, he's on you, brutal and unhibited slashes fly around your body, and you meet all of them with a blocking blade. You're pushed back, towards the wall, where remains of the previous killing still stain the concrete. Blood seeps into the thin fabric on your body, and you shiver in disgust, as it sticks to you. 
Your husband doesn't notice, his blade leaves a rather deep mark in the wall, as you duck under his arm, and avoid a nasty punch to the gut.
 Plap, plap, plap, your feet carry you through the room, as you try to gain some leverage. The mattress on the bed is surprisingly soft, when you climb on top of it, gaining the advantage of a higher position. An advantage, which is quickly torn out of your hands, as your husband grabs onto your ankle, tugging at it with such force, you tumble down in an instant.
Panic rises in your gut, as the world sins around you, and without really thinking, you let your mind flow into autopilot.
- Let me go! - the Voice tears out of your throat like a landslide, and Feyd Rautha throws himself off of you, his body colliding with the nearby desk. 
Books and papers crash to the floor with the force of his figure. Your head swimms, but you will it away, too focused on survival to care for your well-being. Both of you are panting, trying to recover from this sudden use of ancient magics. 
- I should rip that treacherous tongue right out of your skull - the threat would carry more strength, if your husband's expression wasn't absolutely dripping with unabashed lust. 
Never in your life has someone looked at you this way, and the shock of emotions is enough to pull you right to your feet. Your blade reflects the dim lights of the room, as you raise it high, body taunt and ready. 
- You'll never get that close.
A challenge, which doesn't even have enough time to properly resound in the thick air of the room, before Feyd Rautha pushes himself off the desk. Things clatter to the ground from the force of his movements, and you barely have time to react, when his blade sinks into your shield. Your body flies backwards, falling in heap with his at the foot of your marital bed. The edge digs into your back, your left hand pressed tightly into the mattress. 
He's hovering over you, panting like a wild animal, face illuminated red from below, where, just short of his juggular, your blade licks a stripe across his alabaster skin. His right hand is wedged between your bodies, dagger nicking you under your ribs. And you stay in this position, like a marble statue, your eyes melting into his, frozen in time. 
- You fought well, Atreides - his voice rumbles deep within his chest, and you can't help, but snarl at his words. - We would've taken each other to an early grave. 
Something dangerously close to fondness floods his features at the idea, and your fingers start to unravel, letting go of the dagger one by one. He doesn't have a chance to react, when your blade clatters to the floor, and your hand, now free, grabs the back of his head, pulling him down.
Your kiss opens the gates of hell, and soon, his own dagger is thrown across the room. You can't see, refuse to see, as your eyelids flutter closed. His lips are slightly chapped, but not any less delicious. Left hand thrashes in his hold, until he lets it go. Then, they both find purchase against his sharp cheekbones, and you hold him so tight, you might break his face with your ministrations. 
- I knew it would work - he pants against your lips, you can hear the smile in every syllable.
- Shut the fuck up - you snarl, fingers digging deeper into his skin.
He groans into the kiss, immediately forcing his tongue into your mouth, as his hands work hard to manouver your legs open enough, for him to slot in between. Then, his touch is everywhere. On your legs, he drags the sheer fabric up and down your thighs, as he carresses your skin, blunt nails digging into the flesh of your hips. They venture upwards, to grab at your breasts, they fight their way into your hair, where he pulls and scrapes. 
It doesn't matter, you think, when you hear the fabric tear, and the carefully chosen attire falls from your body. Nothing matters. 
You're boneless and defenseless against this one insidious emotion, which carries your every move, which compells you to arch your back, to reveal your running pulse under his searching lips. Feyd Rautha bites down on your skin, right where your neck meets your shoulder, and you respond in kind, head descending upon his porcelain skin. He shudders under your teeth and tongue, his entire body tensing.
This is how you take control, and you've never felt so greedy. 
His trousers aren't even fully off of his legs, when he enters you, clumsily and with urgency, bare feet sliding on the floor. Surprisingly inexperienced, he chases your core with his entire body, as if the heat of your insides in a completely foreign sensation.Your moan tears at the column of your throat, where his lips leave a trail of purple marks. The covers remains undisturbed, as your husband ruts into you, pressing your back harder against the edge of the bed. It's uncomfortable, it's hurtful, but somehow, it feels perfect for the two of you. Fucking like wild animals, not even able to make it onto the bed.
- I hate you - you repeat, like a mantra, broken voice cascading with every thrust. - I hate you, I ha- 
Your head rolls backwards, when a particularly hard thrust nearly breaks you, but your husband is here to help, his hand grabbing the the roots of your hair, bringing your head down, so you can watch as he performs a magic trick of repeatedly disapearing into your body. 
You're not sure who's blood his hand slips on, but suddenly, you're fully on the floor, your body crushed by his. Nothing stops his wild movements, not the sloppiness of it all, not the hard wails he tears from your body. If anything, the more strain his body is under, the more ferocious he's being. Your hand shoots up, all five fingers digging into his throat, and you're rewarded with an angelic moan, which almost brings you to your finish line. Almost. 
His head leans down into the crook of your neck, where he whispers something in Harkonnen, a gurgle of rough sounds, interrupted by sinful moans. He sounds so beautiful, so conflicted, for a second you consider being gentle with him. Alas, you hate him still.  
Another realization dawns upon you, as your feet kick with force into your husbands backside, to force him deeper, to keep him inside. This is still a fight. You're still on the battlefield, still waving a red flag in front of a raging bull. So, with courage and grandiose, your muscles tense, and you roll your husband over. 
The change in position makes both of you gasp in unison, as you sink down onto him. For a second, everything stops. His lips are red and swollen, sweat and blood mix on his skin, flow down in pinkish stripes. And he watches you, as one would a holy painting of a foreign god. With reverence and utter lack of understanding. You're fully aware the look is mirrored on your face. 
Slowly at first, your hips begin to rock, up and down, in a steady rhythm, that forces a shuddering breath to leave Feyd Rautha's lips. You bend down, to catch it, and because of your greed, you catch his bottom lip as well. The bite you give him is anything but romantic, and his hips jump from the floor, hitting a spot within you, you didn't know existed. He swallows your moan along with his own blood, and his fingertips map the curve of your spine, as you straighten upon him.
Fingernails latch themselves into the skin of his chest, as you speed up, chasing your own release and no one else's. Moans spill from your lips, the concept of shame abandoning your mind completely. Then, compelled by something dark and twisted you drag claw marks down his torso. 
His body shudders, and his hips lift off the ground, fucking into you with reckless abandon. The hold he has on the flesh of your hips is bruising, to say the least, but you did enough damage to call it even. Enough, to make your body tremble and tense up, as climax creeps up on you steadily. 
Like a shark sniffing for blood, he senses the change in your being, and as you tumble over the edge, a silent scream tearing at your throat, he suddenly rises into a seating position. His arms encircle you fully, pressing your sweaty bodies impossibly close, as he too finds his own end. 
It takes him second, to tumble over, filling you to the brim with ink. His head buries itself into your shoulder, inhaling your scent through deep gasps, each eliciting a broken growl from his chest. 
Your bones are gone completely, body relaxing and falling breathless into your husband's arms. After a while of sitting in complete stillness, he moves first. Strong hands lift you up, off of him, and you whine at the emptiness. 
Then, as a last hurrah, he throws you onto the bed, where your recovering body sinks into the soft mattress. It's heavenly, the way you seem to float in nothingness, head swimming from exertion. For a moment you don't even register him climbing into the bed with you, drunk on the fading tension seeping from your every pore.
The lights are almost completely out, yet his skin shines against the black comforter. You wish to see if he's flushed, like he was at the engagement party. Leaning on one arm, his fingers trail around the small wound under your ribs. Dried blood flakes off of your skin, and you shudder again. 
- I - you start, voice completely broken - I've never known hate, until I met you. 
You're not sure why you've said it. Perhaps, in this moment of serenity, truth seems to float to the surface much more easily. Or perhaps you're possessed, or worse, gone completely insane. Eother way, your eyebrows furrow, and Feyd Rautha leans down to kiss your forehead, gently. 
- If this is how your hate looks like - he whispers into your hairline, teeth scraping lightly against it - I dread to imagine your love. 
You'll never find out, you think, but for some reason can't fully vocalize it. 
He says something else, after a while, but your mind is becoming as heavy as your body, and as the day descends upon you in a heap of exhaustion, you fall asleep.
And while your story has nothing but suffering in the future, while there's death and mourning, and years of violence written in the stars for you. Right now, on the Harkonnen ship sailing through space to Giedi Prime, you sleep in the arms of your husband. Whether this strange symbiotic relationship will last, no one can tell, but there is hope, and what else could you possibly need? 
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teddiesworldd · 1 day
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after the world ends.
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ghost finds you out in the woods during a zombie outbreak and falls in love with you. (2.6K words)
a/n: i feel like my shorter fics always do much better than my longer ones but i just couldn't help myself - this idea has been on my mind for a while and it was so sweet i just had to write it down and share it with you <3 also, if you'd like to be added to a taglist, let me know!
pairing: ghost x female reader
tags/warnings: nsfw, mdni!!, apocalypse au, mentions of weapons, killing (zombies), survival situation, unprotected p in v sex, cute fluffy stuff in the middle of a zombie apocalypse because why not?!, soap makes an appearance
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day 17 of the apocalypse, 3 weeks after the first outbreak.
you had lasted this long purely by camping out in the back of your car, rationing whatever you'd managed to bring in from your kitchen at the beginning of it all. but as supplies got low and you were down to your last water bottle, you were forced to venture out into the nearby woodland, gathering whatever you could forage from the streams and bushes. you knew absolutely nothing about surviving out here. you couldn’t hunt and could barely light a fire. the first day of winter was in less than a month and you had no real shelter to keep you warm. you had no idea which berries were safe to eat or how to filter water. all you had was your kitchen silverware for protection and your best winter jacket for the weather.
you’d last about 2 weeks out here at best, and that’s without the fucking zombies. 
you'd been walking for about an hour since leaving your car, and to be honest, you didn’t think you could find your way back now. everything looked the same. you had found only a pocketful of what you could only guess was edible, and a protein bar from the pocket of a dead guy’s jeans. every single noise scared the hell out of you. and the bite marks on his neck raised your adrenaline tenfold. 
thud. thud. snap.
footsteps. sticks breaking underfoot. 
“who’s there?” you called out. “i’m- i’m serious, come any closer and… and… i’ll kill you!”, shouting now, cold hand gripping your rusted kitchen knife tightly.
you saw a huge figure behind the trunk of a nearby tree, and he chuckled lowly at your brave attempt to scare him away. “you don’t scare me, sweetheart”, the voice said, deep and rough, walking out from behind the tree, “thought y'were a rabbit or something - cute lil' thing, rustling in those bushes. and if i was infected, you’d be dead by now, with a mouth on you like that.”
he was an absolute giant of a man, 6 and a half foot at least and built like a brick shithouse. he was in full military gear, skull mask over his face, armed with a rifle in hand and knives strapped to his chest and belt. he approached you slowly, palms facing you like he was trying not to spook a stray cat. part of you wondered if you were hallucinating - you'd not been sleeping well from the nightmares of the infected night after night.
“no use shouting, anyway - they’ll find you straight away making all that noise.” he continued, leaves crunching under his black boots, walking closer, “what’s a girl like you doing out 'ere, all alone?”
you were frozen in place, like a deer in headlights. he was already intimidating as fuck without the massive armoury hanging round his waist, but now he was so close you could feel his breath on your face. a thought crossed your mind that if he tried to kill you now, there would be absolutely nothing you could do to stop him. it made a shiver run down your back.
his gloved hand reached out to hold your chin. you looked up at him, eyes welling up from the pure fear that ran through you.
“lost?” he said quietly, tilting his head to get a proper look at you. 
you nodded slowly.
“well, you won’t get far with that old thing, love” he smirked through the mask, eyeing the blade in your hand. “here, i’ll take you back to camp with me, make you a proper meal, yeah? when did you eat last?”
you engaged in some light small talk on the way, finding out he was called “ghost” and he used to serve in a special operations unit for a private military company. i guess it made sense that the best survivors would be the soldiers. you mentioned how you’d been living in your car for the past two weeks, which seemed to amuse him. he probably thought you were just some dumb girl who’d somehow managed to scrape through until now.
he wasn’t wrong, really.
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his camp was much nicer than the back of your car. 
it wasn't far from where he'd found you. they had lots of weapons and food and beds. and people. there must of been about 10 men in total. the infected weren’t really an issue with their impressive arsenal. there was a large fence surrounding the camp and the men took it in turns to kill anything that tried getting inside. it was pretty clear that ghost was closest to one of the other ex-military guys called soap. they sat together when they ate and stayed up late at night talking together around the fire - matching dog tags glinting in the dim light. you often watched them through your tent door - enjoying their company but not wanting to interrupt their conversation. you listened as they talked deeply, recounting their time serving together, telling stories of bravery and bloodshed. it became your routine to fall asleep listening to them.
after about 3 or 4 weeks, following the first snowfall, you’d adjusted to life in the camp. you'd managed to pick up a few skills from soap, who often spent the mornings taking you hunting or showing you how to use the guns - a hand on your waist as he lined you up for the kill shot. he had a sweet nature and silly charm to him, telling you ridiculous jokes that only made you laugh because they were so stupid. you would never tell him that though - he thought you found him hilarious.
however, it was ghost you’d grown closest to, giving you anything and everything you needed. he was mysterious and that drew you to him. one time, he took you down to the river to wash the cookware and yourselves, and you'd caught a glimpse of him pulling off his clothes and mask, blonde hair and muscles seeing the light of day. you couldn't deny it - he was gorgeous.
he often checked on you in the evenings, making sure you’d settled in okay. he sat next to your bed, running a gloved hand over your head, rubbing small circles into your scalp.
“you like the boys?” he’d ask, “they treating you okay?”
and you’d nod, just like you’d do every night.
“not scared, are you, doll?”
you shook your head.
“good. just making sure.”
and with that, he’d leave, heading to his own tent to rest, or out to guard the fence.
but one night, before he got up to get some sleep, you grabbed his hand. he looked back at you, dark eyes watching yours.
“stay?” you whispered.
and he did, without a word. stripping off his heavy gear and perching next to you in bed, rough camo trousers scratching against your bare shoulder. 
and he stayed, just like you asked. watching over you like a dog and keeping you safe.
sometime in the night, you’d turned to face him where he sat, resting an arm over his thigh. but he didn’t push you off. he just let you rest - your warm breath causing a dampness throughout the tent. 
it was only when the winter sunlight streamed through the tent that you realised he really did stay - all night. you opened your eyes to see he’d settled in next to you, his sleeping body alongside yours in the small camp bed, your arm still around him. 
and when you tried to pull yourself away out of embarrassment, he pulled it back, keeping it over his chest. 
“for warmth, yeah?” he said quietly, voice all deep and sleepy.
and how could you argue with that? these were trying times, after all. 
after a moment's silence, he said “you’re a pretty thing, love. always thought so, even when i first met you and you were all scared and dirty.” he continued, heavy eyes looking down at your vulnerable form. “soap thinks so too, but you’re mine, yeah? i found you - you’re mine.”
there was something about the possessive glint in his eye that showed you he really meant it - his gaze trailing down from your face to your uncovered hips that had shuffled out the sheets in your sleep.
"cm'ere" he said, taking your arm in his grasp and pulling you towards him. "i mean it, love. do you wan' to be mine?" eyes watching your face to see how you'd react to his question. your faces were close now, closer than they'd ever been. he'd looked after you so nicely, giving you everything you needed, protecting you from harm all this time. you couldn't help but agree with him. how could anyone not fall for this attractive man who cared for you so much? and the feeling of his chest under your hand made you fall for him even harder.
"yeah," you whispered against his masked face "...yours."
your small hand reaching up to reveal his lips under his mask. he pulled you in, kissing you softly. it was short but there was so much behind it. you could tell he wanted more but he was holding back. he didn't want to accidentally push you away by moving too fast. he pulled back to look at you, hands cupping your soft face, which was still clouded with sleep.
"you're so beautiful, you know that?" he spoke so softly now. it was like the walls he'd put up had fell instantly. he just wanted a moment to be yours. no one else's. not the camp's cook or the guard or the hunter. just yours and nothing else.
you pulled yourself back to his face, kissing him again but soon moving your lips down to kiss his chin, and then his neck. but you didn't get far before he stopped you.
"no, no, love. let me take care of you - you deserve it." he said, turning you around so you were on your back, head resting on your plush pillow as his touch relaxed you.
it was almost as if for just a moment, you weren't in the middle of a fucking nightmare. you were at home, in your own bed. maybe you'd met him at work or out on a date - anywhere that wasn't in a forest full of zombies. and he'd taken you out for dinner a few times and you'd decided he was sweet enough to be kissing down your body, rolling his tongue over your nipples.
but here you were, in a camp full of strangers, being transported by this man who you barely knew, covered only by the walls of a thin tent. but it just felt so right to let him take you like this. you trusted him with your life. and in return he worked your body like magic. his touch was so gentle - yet his skin was so rough compared to your own.
"you want me inside you, baby?" he spoke to you so softly, having kissed down to the top of your underwear now. his eyes watched you, waiting for your permission to carry on.
"please," you replied, "i want you."
that was all he needed to hear. he pulled off his shirt and your underwear, tossing them both to the side. he admired your body shamelessly, eyes tracing the outline of your waist and your body. you couldn't help but do the same, entranced by the way his muscles practically glowed in the light that streamed through the tent. he was built like a rugby player, pure muscle but with a good layer of fat on top to smooth everything out. you watched as he unbuttoned his pants and pulled out his cock.
he was huge. you knew he was a big guy but you weren't expecting it to apply to all of him. it was definitely bigger than anyone you'd ever been with. his tip was an angry shade of red from how hard he was, precum running down his shaft. noticing the expression on your face, he reassured you.
"don't worry, i'll be gentle with you."
he lined himself up with your entrance, your wetness being enough to allow himself to push slowly inside. it stretched you more than you ever had been, causing you to hiss as it dipped inside you. he bent forward down to kiss you sweetly, silencing your pained noises, shushing you each time his lips left yours. he continued to move in until he bottomed out inside of you.
"you okay?" he grunted, "tell me when to move, love."
you paused for a moment, adjusting to his size before nodding to let him know he could start moving.
he didn't fuck like you expected him to. you thought a guy like him would be railing you like an animal, but no. he made love to you, his slow but deep thrusts hitting all the perfect spots in your gummy walls. it was pure bliss, and he thought so too, struggling to keep back his grunts each time he thrust into you.
"fucckkkk baby," he'd say, dog tag hanging down as he fucked you, "your pussy is so tight, gripping me so good". he hooked your legs behind his back and moved his big hands onto your hips to hold you in place. " is it good for you too, doll? you look so pretty with that fucked-out look on your face." he went on, smirking at you like he was proud of his work.
you couldn't even form words, let alone piece together a decent response. he felt amazing, pulling all the way out so only his tip was inside of you and then pushing all the way back in again, until you were an absolute drooling mess, jaw slack and whining on his cock. and just when you thought it couldn't get any better, he moved his hand between your legs and rubbed lazy circles on your clit with his thumb. almost instantly your pussy started pulsing around him - with you blubbering out incoherent swears and moans - having sent you completely over the edge in a matter of minutes. he wasn't far away either - your clenching making his hips stutter back and forward as he helped you ride through your orgasm. you could of swore you were seeing stars by the time he pulled out of you and came over your stomach with a moan, pressing his forehead to yours.
it took you both a few minutes to come back down again, giggling and kissing his lips once more. your arms found their way around his neck, holding him close to you. you were both a panting mess, clothes discarded across the tent floor and the scent of sex heavy in the air.
"my girl- you're gorgeous," he managed to huff out, catching his breath. " 'm never getting over you."
when news broke that a zombie apocalypse was spreading, you had no idea it would lead to this hunk of a man in bed with you - spoiling you and loving you like this. you weren't complaining, though. not at all. at least something good came from it.
he cleaned you up so carefully, being sure not to press too hard on your sensitive body. and when he'd made sure you were okay, he brought you something to eat and led down with you, stroking up and down on your back, drawing shapes and letters on your skin. part of you couldn't believe this was the same guy who you watched shoot a zombie in the face through the fence the other day. his hands were so gentle, always cautious not to hurt you under his touch.
and as your eyes grew heavy again, revelling in his embrace, you heard him say something into your skin.
"simon," he said quietly, face buried in your neck. "my real name's simon."
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ghostofhyuck · 3 days
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NCT Dream when you woke up from a nightmare.
Mark Lee
Mark stirs awake when he felt you shaking, breathing loudly, and agitated. He was quick to get up, shakes you violently jolting you awake. You tried to catch your breathe as Mark lightly massages your back. "Nightmares?" he asked, and you only nod. Explaining to him what happened to your dream. "It's okay, I'm here, we can stay awake for a while you know?" he said, kissing your temples and hugging you quietly.
Huang Renjun
Renjun noticed the sudden movement and the next thing he knew, you're drawn closer to him. Your hold onto his body was tight, so he opens his eyes and turns around to look at you. "Are you okay?" "Just a nightmare." you said sheepishly, he knows how easy you get scared, so he pulls you closer to him, wrapping his arms around you enough that he had you wrapped around his body. He hums quietly as he brushes your hair to help you be comfortable enough to sleep again.
Lee Jeno
You jolted awake, tears are flowing, and catching your breathe. You experienced another sleep paralysis and this time, you felt as if you were about to die. You couldn't help but to cry loudly enough for Jeno to stir awake. He was quick enough to pull you to a hug, massaging your back and trying to comfort you with his words. When you calmed down, you looked at your boyfriend with red, puffy eyes, apologizing to him for waking him up. "Don't apologize, I'll be more happy to comfort you when you're having nightmares."
Lee Donghyuck
"Babe, babe..." you opened your eyes to see a worry Haechan. You asked him why but then he just lightly caresses your face. "You were calling for your parents, and you were scared." he explained. You remember your nightmare that involves your parent. You didn't know that it'll result to you calling for them in reality. "Sorry if I disturb your sleep," you apologized to Haechan but he only smile. "Let's call them later okay? Come on now, let's go back to sleep."
Na Jaemin
You woke up from a nightmare. You feel relieved that you woke up from it and as you glance at your phone, it says 3 am. No wonder" you thought. You checked your phone to see any notification from your social media, when Jaemin moved beside you. "Why are you awake?" you simply answered nightmare which made him look at you. "Come here," he snatches your phone away from you, pulls you closer to him and gently brushes your hair so that you can doze off to your sleep.
Zhong Chenle You jolted awake from a nightmare. You didn't noticed that you were crying until you felt the tears running through your cheeks. You tried to conceal it, afraid of waking Chenle who you know is tired from practice. You gently swiped it but it continued to flow like a stream. It wasn't until you felt your boyfriend's hands. Chenle made you turn around to face him and swept the tears for you. "You don't have to hide it from me you know?" you could only apologize but he wasn't fazed by it at all and instead after wiping it, he kisses your forehead to calm you down. 
Park Jisung
Because of the nightmare, you didn't feel sleepy at all, so you opted to go out to drink water. You stayed at the kitchen when you hear light footsteps. "Why are you here?" Jisung's sleepy tone asked. "Just a bad dream," you answered and proceeds to tell him to just go back to bed. Jisung dislikes the idea of him sleeping peacefully while you can't sleep. So he just stood beside you, holds your hand and lightly squeezes it. "Let's stay like this for a while until you wanted to sleep again." 
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