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#I wish I could lay him down gently
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Every once awhile the reality of just how fucking bad it was for Ghost hits me and I’m overcome by intense grief.
He never deserved any of it.
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azullumi · 1 month
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"once more to see you" ; aventurine
summary — to him, love was like a religion waiting to be discovered and he’ll find god in the way the sun looks on your skin; alternatively, aventurine thinks he’s rotten work and tiring to take care of but not to you, not if it's him (please get the reference).
pairing — aventurine (w/ gender-neutral reader)
tags — established relationship (but aventurine wants to de-establish it), somewhat fluff, slight angst with comfort, never proofread never what?!!, 1.3k ; ficlet
note — 2.1 broke me (the whole quest knocked at the door of my house, shook my hands, congratulated me, and invited itself into my home before pouring water on my face, slapping me, throwing me around, and left with the door open, all the while, my family watched). this is day 1 of writing for aventurine until i have him.
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“you have a lot of moles.” his voice, despite a gentle whisper, tears through the silence of the night like a drop of water that ruptured and disturbed the surface of the pond. “especially here.” he gently taps on your skin; they seem like stars, he swallows the words back down. 
you feel aventurine’s finger trace on the back of your neck and the curve of your shoulders, seemingly drawing—or connecting something. it was ticklish, the way he gently drags his hand and ghosts over your skin, a soft laugh slipping past your lips (you’ll capture his touch on your skin as if you were a sinner remembering how forgiveness tasted on your lips). there was something intimate that lingers in the air between you two as you lay in his bed with him, a fleeting moment that will be inked into your mind. 
(the both of you leave your titles behind, mixed together with the scattered objects on the floor, laid on the cold ground to be picked up and worn later like a shiny medal even if you weren’t proud to have them.)
“they say it’s where your lover kissed you the most in your past life.” you stir in your position as you speak, coming to face him and meet his pretty jewel-like eyes—how alluring it was, painted with vivid colors yet it never shines. the sound of mirth laughter bubbles from his throat, a pleasant melody to your ears.
he asks, curiosity tracing the tone of his voice, “and from where did you even hear that?” and you shrug, bringing your form closer to him as you seek for more warmth, “i can’t recall. perhaps i heard it from topaz or maybe from one of the members of the ipc? they’re the only ones i often see and talk to.”
“the doctor?” he wraps his arm around your figure, his hand settling on the small of your back.
“that man will only scorn at that idea and call it stupid. he’ll most likely say that ‘only fools would believe such concepts.’” you mimic the way the esteemed doctor spoke, from the serious expression that he always don on his face to the deepening of his voice. your seemingly successful imitation earned a chuckle from the blonde-haired man before you.
“i’m sure he will.”
silence falls between you two and you took this time to adore each and every line of his being. a few strands of hair fall over his eyes—beautiful, captivating, mesmerizing, you could list out every word to describe his eyes but it would never be enough. you had always wondered why he would hide it until you witnessed the reason why he does so. 
aventurine seems to study your expression at the same also, a soft look on his face as he did, and you can’t help but be curious. “what are you thinking about?” you ask him, breaking the silence that nurtured itself in the space between you and him.
you, he wishes to answer. how you look at this moment in his embrace: you were wearing one of his shirts, albeit, not exactly to your size but you insisted, saying that you liked it as it smelled like him. how gentle, loving, adoring, you were everything; he looks and thinks of you as if you were his everything (he doesn’t deserve you). but he doesn’t say it—the thought weighs too heavily on his mind, claws at his throat, and suffocates him—, instead he utters something entirely different that creates a shift in the air between you two. 
“i don’t think i can do this.” he turns his head to look away from you, staring at the ceiling instead. it seems to extend itself far and far away from him.
the horrible part of being human is the tendency for destruction that lies in your bones. stained palms, calloused pads, despite the gentleness of your touch and the comfort of your caress. the desire to devour flesh and bones, to understand the underlying thoughts and meanings behind words and unexpressed feelings by consuming them. to submerge and drown in the depths of one's despair and desire (too close that the line blurs into one). the horrible part of being him was his tendency to destroy—hesitation and doubt lies in his being and aches at his chest, tugging on his heart’s strings, and settles on his throat—, it’s not like he doesn’t want to hold you, it’s just that he can’t.
“do what?”
“this.” you know exactly what he was referring to, know what he’s afraid of. he has laid himself bare and vulnerable in front of you countless of times that you have memorized the constellations that adorns his skin. you know him, you have known him enough to recognize the fear that tugs on his voice and see the walls that he tries to build up in front of you. you know him enough to know what thoughts are plaguing his mind.
“why do you think so?”
“don’t you think i’m too much to take care of?” he tries not to choke on his words and bite his tongue, careful not to let his voice crack lest he crumbles underneath your caress. i am undeserving of it. worthless. failure. selfish. discarded. coward. loser. nothing. you are bound to leave. 
“not for me.” you caress his cheek and guide him to look at you—instead of the ceiling that seems to appear farther than it originally was in each passing second as the walls glean over him like a shadow—, to meet your gaze and see the sincerity that lurks deep within. “never will i get tired of you. so, let me carry your burden.”
he takes a few seconds to answer, uncertainty lingering in his tone: “it’s not yours to have.”
“it may not be.” you answer with no hesitation, “but it doesn’t mean that you must shoulder them alone.”
he opens his mouth to speak but unable to find the words to say, he closes them. there was a moment of stillness shared between you two. comfort, relief, assurance seeps into the ache of his bones and you say something too heavy even for this steady and silent night to hold, the words too much to be held—light spills in like a flood as if it was pouring out from the sun itself.
“i love you.”
“you utter such words as if it’s something easy for you.” as if loving him was just as simple as waking up in the morning and adoring the way the honey-light hugs your form as the dust settles in the corner of your room. when he’s stripped of everything and left with nothing, would you still love him the same? would you still kiss him as gently as you did? would you still hold the shards of his form even if it makes your hand bleed? 
you spoke in a gentle yet firm croon, gaze unwavering, “because it is.”
you see the falter in his expression: his face, that once was crumpled, relaxed and so did his gaze soften. and you smile at him with only adoration in your eyes—like a devout follower to a divine being. “are you still afraid?”
“i don’t know.” he whispers.
“it’s alright. you have all the time in the world.” your hand weaves itself into his own, fingers lacing with one another, and you gently squeeze. it was a form of reassurance, a way of telling him that you’re here with him through all of it.
the warmth has settled in your being and you spill yourself into the cracks of his vulnerability. “i love you.” you say once more and you kiss the mark on his neck—lingering and soft as if you wish that it would take all his hurt away. the way he shudders underneath your touch, the hitch of his breath soon followed by a gentle sigh as he cradles you closer to him tells you everything that you wish to hear.
for once, he sleeps as if he had nothing to carry, nothing that shackles him to the stars that forsakes him.
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© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.
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lovedazai · 5 months
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PLAYING WITH THEIR HAIR
ft. dazai, chuuya, fyodor, sigma, tecchou
p.s.! ₊˚. inspired by this post on my old blog !! blowing u a kiss if u remember it, mwah <3 !!
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DAZAI — dazai doesn’t know if he should let himself get used to this.
with freshly changed bandages and a full stomach, he lays his head on your lap, blissed out sighs falling from his lips as your fingers rub his scalp just right, gently tugging the knots out of his hair. he can’t remember the last time someone has made him feel so taken care of.
your nails drag across his temple, tucking his bangs behind his ear. he barely manages to suppress the shiver that makes its way up his spine when you trail your fingers down, tracing along his jawline.
he only opens his eyes when you lean down and kiss his nose, and he swears his heart stops; nobody has ever looked at him so softly before. he wants to spill his heart out, tell you how he’s certain you’re the reason he’s still alive.
he pulls the back of your head down to press a kiss onto your mouth instead, smiling against your lips when you huff. he whines when you pull away far too soon, raising himself on his elbows to follow you.
“you're supposed to be relaxing,” it’s always so hard to feel scolded by youーyou’re just too cute when you’re grumpyーbut it’s especially difficult now, when your smile is so sweet, and the tip of your nose brushes against his from how close you are.
he barely whispers "i am, i swear,” before his lips are on yours again, unable to hold in all of the love he feels; it bubbles up in his chest as he guides your hands back to his head.
the feeling of your mouth on his and your hands brushing through his hair is almost overwhelming, igniting something warm and tingly beneath his skin. he whines when you tug on his locks, soothing it away as your thumb traces the curve of his ear. he parts his lips enough for your tongue to trace inside, but you pull away all too soon again.
your nails trace along his scalp so gently, and you’re looking at him so lovingly, he doesn’t know what else to do besides pull you closer. he needs more.
his heart pounds against his ribcage, racing without his permission; he doesn’t think he can make it slow down, even if he tried.
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CHUUYA — when chuuya comes out of the shower, it’s with a towel hanging low on his hips and the sweet scent of his expensive body scrub clinging to his skin.
you watch him sort through his drawer for a pair of underwear, the long section of his hair taunting you with the way it beads water, stray drops dribbling down his toned chest. his bangs fall limply over his nose, and your eyes follow his fingers as he brushes them back.
it doesn’t take long for him to catch your gaze on him, lips rising into a cocky smile as he looks at you over his shoulder.
“like what you see, baby?”
you nod, holding your grabby hands out from where you sit on the edge of his bed, waiting for him to join you. his smile only grows, and he pulls a pair of sweatpants up his waist before he settles in front of you.
the spot where your knees open is the perfect size for him to rest his head in your lap. you brush back all the stray pieces of his bangs, watching them flutter back against his forehead. his hair is like silk, smoothly gliding through the gaps of your fingers. you treat it like something fragile, even if chuuya was anything but.
"i'm starting to think you're only with me for my hair,” he tilts his head back to look at you, but you're quick to push it forward, shushing him. he pinches your thigh, but it doesn’t take long for his grumpy mumbles to fade away as your nails drag against his scalp.
you twirl the longer strands around your fingers, tangling and untangling them. you brush against the crown of his head, watching his shoulders sag. you wish he could have moments like this more often, always so busy protecting the city, protecting you.
you brush his hair to the side, placing a kiss on his neck as his baby hairs rise along his nape. when you peek at his face, his eyes are barely open, and soft, even breaths leave his parted lips.
“chuuya,” you brush your lips against his ear, and he lets out a little grunt in response. “do you want to go to sleep?"
“‘m awake, i swear,” he turns himself to rest his cheek on your thigh, pressing a kiss against the side of your knee. "keep goin’."
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FYODOR — you had only come over to his desk out of curiosity, peeking over his shoulder to see what he was working on. before you even realize it, he’s talked you into keeping him company, and you end up in one of his extra chairs with your legs across his lap. the scent of earl grey fills the air from your half drank tea cups, a symphony of soft strings playing against the background of his quiet typing.
his ushanka is put aside, folded neatly on his desk. his bangs rest against his nose, stray pieces falling dangerously close to his pretty eyes. he hums his thanks as you tuck them behind his ear, touch lingering.
you run your fingers through the little pieces framing his face, tracing the way they curl inward towards his cheeks. your fingers catch on knots, and you frown. you don’t even notice that he’s looking at you from the corner of his eye as you comb through his hair, gently detangling it.
“you should take better care of yourself, fedya,” you whisper, twirling the smoothed strands around your finger.
“there’s no need,” he smiles. “you already do such a lovely job.”
it was rare for fyodor to let his emotions present themselves so physically, but in the safety of your gaze, he lets himself visibly relax. you brush your fingertips through his hair diligently, and each time your nails graze a certain spot on his scalp, his eyes fall closed, a little smile growing on his lips. he was just too cute, but you knew better than to tease; it was rare to see him so genuinely at peace. you wonder how many people had the chance to touch him so intimately, if at all.
“you’re quite the distraction today, dear,” he comments, leaning back in his chair, hand leaving his keyboard to settle on your thigh.
"am i?" you gather his bangs between your fingers, brushing them back so you can press your lips to his forehead. you let the dark locks slide through the gaps between your fingers, watching them flutter back down into place against his forehead.
just as your hand leaves his head, cold fingers wrap around your wrist, holding it in place.
"i didn't tell you to stop, did i?”
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SIGMA ー when sigma first came into your room, it was with shaky hands and downturned lips, confidence visibly wavering in a way he only let show in front of you. you draw him into your lap, and he rests his head against your thighs with a deep exhale. you pull on his tie, loosening it as he scrunches his eyes shut, trying his best to relax.
“it’s okay,” you whisper. “i got you.”
you rub your thumb across his forehead, soothing his furrowed brows. he’s stiff in your hold, gripping his thighs through his pants, cheeks dusted pink.
you smooth your hand across his head, watching the way it makes his lips twitch. you brush through the purple side of his bangs, each choppy layer fluttering back down into place through your fingers.
you trace along the zig-zag of his part with just enough pressure to melt away the tension in his neck and make him unclench his jaw. both sides of his hair are separated perfectly, and you twirl them around your finger, watching the colors swirl together like soft serve ice cream.
when you look at his face again, he’s finally relaxed, with his pretty lips parted and his long, white lashes resting against his cheeks. you bend down and kiss him, smiling when his eyes open dazedly.
“have i ever told you how pretty you are?”
“yes,” he mumbles, fidgeting beneath your gaze. even quieter, he says, “but you’re the prettiest.”
his face scrunches up into a frown when you coo over him, pinching his cheek as he tries to swat your hand away. he catches it between his own, intertwining your fingers.
“can you…” he draws small hearts with his thumb on your skin. “…keep going?”
“only if you take the rest of the day off and spend it with me instead.”
he raises your hand to his lips, smiling against your knuckles. “consider it done.”
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TECCHOU ー tecchou had sought you out as soon as he came home. he’d barely stripped off his uniform before he was crawling on top of you and snuggling his face into your chest, effectively pinning you to your bed. you smooth your hand down the lines of muscles along his back, tracing up and down the dip between his shoulder blades.
you trail your hand up his nape, burying your fingers into his hair. you comb through the mess, endlessly entertained at how it defiantly pops up in all directions no matter how many times you run your fingers through the strands or smooth them down beneath your palm. his expression is neutral as always, eyes closed, lashes resting against his rosy cheeks.
he’s been so still and quiet, you thought you’d lulled him to sleep, until you pulled your hand back and were immediately met with wide, expectant eyes.
you grab one of the longer strands, tickling his cheek with it.
“you stopped,” he says. “keep going, please.”
a giddy smile grows on your face, delighted he's enjoying this as much as you are. you gather his bangs through your fingers, running your nails against his scalp and gently pushing them back. his entire body is lax except for his hands, gripping your shirt, pressing you closer into his firm chest.
his eyes are heavy and lidded, finally falling shut when you scratch against his scalp a little firmer. his head tilts forward, but he straightens it each time, resisting sleep. you press a kiss against the little markings under his eye.
“why don’t you go to sleep?” you whisper, and his eyes crack open.
“but this feels so good,” he drops his cheek back to your chest. “i don’t want you to stop.”
“i won’t, i promise,” you seal it with a kiss against forehead. “your hair is so soft. i could do this forever.”
“okay,” you twirl a section of wayward strands around your finger, tugging gently, and he sighs a content, heavy exhale. “if you promise.”
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BSD MASTERLIST
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multi-fandom-imagine · 3 months
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A/n: Got asked for a part 2 of this fic, so here it is!
Warnings: Light fingering,P in v, pregnancy sex.
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He couldn't keep his hand's off of you, how could he not? You were so beautiful.
Slinking up behind you, Lucifer let his teeth graze the nape of your neck as he let his fingers graze the small baby bump. "You should be in bed, sleeping."
Letting out a small scoff, you then wrinkled nose leaning back into his embrace. "This sucks, I'm horny."
Giving Lucifer a playful glare, your lips forming into a small pout.
Lucifer chuckled softly at your pout, finding it both adorable and arousing. His nose pressing into your neck inhaling your scent. You smelt so good, so sweet as he let his fingers glide up and your side as he placed another kiss to your neck. "I will be happy to take care of your desire's."
Twirling you, so that you were now facing him.Lucifer captured your lips in a heated and passionate kiss, his nails digging in your hips drawing you in close as his tongue danced with yours. His free hand slipping under your dress, feeling the warmth and wetness between your thighs.Lucifer let out a groan against your lips, his desire for you intensifying.
His fingers teasing your entrance, sliding in and out with a torturous slowness. He pulled away from the kiss, his voice strained. "Tell me, my Queen, what do you want me to do to you? How can I satisfy your cravings?" He then nibbled on your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "I want to hear you beg for it, my beloved. I want to hear you scream my name as I make you come undone."
A weak laugh escaped your lips as you rode his fingers. "You know what I want Lucifer, I want you to fuck me."
Lucifer felt a shudder rush down his spine, the sound's you were making were down right sinful.
You were perfect.
Wetting his lips, he couldn't help but smile at your words, his own desire surge at your explicit request. His fingers continued to pump in and out of you, the slick sounds of your arousal filling the air. "my little sun, your wish is my command," he whispered keeping you close. You could feel his arousal pressing into your inner thigh.
Then when a swift motion, he lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the shared room. Gently laying you down on the bed, his fingers pushing up the soft fabric of the dress you wore. His eyes devouring your naked form, you were so beautiful.
He couldn't look away.
Swallowing thickly, he quickly shed his clothes, his cock already throbbing with need. He then positioned myself between your legs, his hands gripping your hips firmly. "So beautiful, my love," he growled, his voice laced with hunger, then with one smooth thrust, Lucifer buried himself deep inside of you, filling you completely.
The sensation was electric, the feeling of your walls clenching around him, your moans of pleasure filling the room. He set a relentless pace, pounding into you with a primal intensity. The sound of the bed creaking beneath us. His wing's covering you both as his nose nuzzled your neck until he captured your lips in for a passionate kiss as he continued to thrust into you, your body moving in perfect harmony.
His hands roaming your curves, over your swollen breasts. His fingers gliding over one of your nipples as a soft cry escaped your lips. "You feel wonderful my Queen." He growled out, his voice mixed with pleasure and possessiveness.
Quickening his pace, the sounds of your lovemaking becoming more urgent. He could feel your walls tightening around his shaft, your orgasm approaching. "Cum for me my beloved, I want to feel everything."
As your climax washed over you, Lucifer let go himself as the pleasure consumed him. This was his heaven, his paradise, you were his everything.
Sinking his teeth into your neck, he continued to thrust riding out your orgasm. Your moans filling the room. Finally, spent and breathless, Lucifer collapsed beside you as he pulled you into his arms. "You are mine, thank you forgiving me a second chance
Sighing, you nuzzled into his chest feeling his fingers glide down your back. "Thank you for choosing me."
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ssahotchnerr · 7 months
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no but imagine pre-relationship aaron with fem!reader who can fall asleep anywhere & in the most uncomfortable positions known to mankind 💀 aaron is both terrified and amazed bcs how do you keep doing that 😧 but then every time he sees you like that he slowly & carefully arranges you in a more comfortable position 🥹🫶🏻 & the team gives him shit for it 💀
(luvie can I be 🪷 anon 🥹🫶🏻)
makeshift
omg stop i love that cw; fem!reader, bau family banter, pining aaron <333
falling asleep in a federal prison, may seem like a hard thing to do. surrounded by the worst of the worst, distant yells from the inmates floating down the hall, the mere location itself. but apparently, not for you.
the facility was currently on lockdown, meaning no one was going in or out, and therefore you were stuck overnight. as a result, the warden offered one of the locker rooms to be strictly the bau's 'break room', so to speak.
after his last, rather unpleasant interview of the evening, aaron was hellbent on a fresh, but not very good, cup of coffee. as he pushed the door open and entered, his focus diverted straight to you.
you were laid across a steel bench - eyes closed, hands clasped over your stomach, absolutely gone to the world. however, if you moved an inch - or probably less - would you completely topple onto the hard floor.
"you're kidding." aaron deadpanned as he looked at you in pure astonishment, coffee long forgotten.
"she's been like that for thirty minutes now." jj commented from where she was leant against one of the sets of lockers, head bent down as she scrolled through her phone. "but are we surprised?"
"nah," derek snorted lightly. "but hey, better than the floor."
"tell me about it." a low grumble came from reid, somewhere.
aaron's face pulled into one of discomfort, his brows drawing into a line above his eyes. the surface you were asleep on, had to be cold, for starters, by nature of the material and the a/c was still kicking in high gear despite the cooler temperature outside. the flat metal had to be highly uncomfortable, no cushion underneath you at all, most likely digging into your shoulder blades. you'd inevitably be waking up to an angry back, which aaron knew from experience - from past events where you miraculously drifted off in questionable positions.
eager to lessen the outcome, aaron shrugged his suit jacket off his shoulders. he balled it up, situating it snug under his arm.
next, he crouched beside you, cradling your head in his hand as he lifted it gently. at the movement, you stirred, a small noise escaping you and aaron froze, waiting for you to settle back down before resuming his actions. part of him feared his current, drumming heart would somehow rouse you more.
but once you had, he slid his jacket underneath your head - a makeshift pillow. it wasn't much, but it would at least alleviate some of the pressure collecting in your neck, and you wouldn't be as sore when you awoke. the next thing he had to figure out, something to lay on the ground, on either side of you, to soften the fall in case you were to-
"that's real cute hotch." derek grinned, grabbing aaron from his thoughts. "when you make up my bed next, can you add one of those pillow chocolates? thanks."
"funny."
aaron stole a glance at you, a calmness brushing over him and the ends of his lips daring to tug upwards into a smile. he couldn't help himself - sure, he wished you weren't fast asleep on a bench that could cause potential harm if you budged, but it didn't hide the fact that you were, well, you.
his hopeful, hidden attempt didn't go unnoticed by one person though, who naturally had to open their big mouth.
"that's nothing compared to that case in montana," aaron shot dave a pointed look to quit it, but only got a wink in return. "hotch practically carried-"
"dave."
"aaron." dave quipped back, an eyebrow quirked high in amusement, but fell silent. although, his witty expression didn't falter, as if he were noting to aaron that it wouldn't be difficult at all to be persuaded to continue.
"whoa whoa there, rossi," morgan straightened his posture, a hand out. "go on."
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demieyesore · 6 months
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Taste of You - Mattheo Riddle x GN!Reader x Theodore Nott
Summary - Mattheo and Theo are in a poly relationship with GN!Reader and get touchy without the other realizing while watching a movie
Warnings / Mentions - Reader IS gender neutral HOWEVER they do have female anatomy, Reader’s house isn’t mentioned, Oral fixation, sucking of fingers, f and m head, fingering, Italian!Theo, Sub!Reader, Dom!Theo, Mattheo is like sub and dom at the same time
A/n - I really hope you all enjoy this🤭 ik I enjoyed writing it because I am lowkey a slut‼️Although I wish it hit at least 1k words but oh well, I’m sick and need to rest
Requested - No
POV - 3rd
Word Count - 983
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You and the boys were cuddled up on the couch in their dorm watching some movie they had been wanting to watch. You had your head laying against Mattheo as his arm was wrapped around you. Your legs were sprawled over Theo’s lap, his fingers tracing shapes lightly into your thigh.
A giant green blanket was on top of you, it covered Mattheo and Theo’s laps but since you were laying down it covered your whole body and even part of your face as you hid in the warmth.
Tension began to grow when a sexual scene played on the screen. Mattheo had immediately stopped eating his popcorn and was white knuckling the bucket, his jaw clenched as he stared straight at the screen. Meanwhile Theo was completely relaxed, as he too stared at the screen. His dead eyes glanced at you when you shuffled closer into Mattheo. Embarrassment flooded through you as you tried to hide further into him.
Out of your peripheral vision you could see Theo smirk slightly, a small exhale being heard from him as a result of his amusement. Theo’s hand that was on your thigh slowly moved upwards. Slowly and carefully so as to not freak you out.
You shifted uncomfortably at the heat beginning to pool at your core, subconsciously moving in a way that gave him better access. His hand stopped just between your thighs, massaging the flesh underneath.
Your breath caught in your throat, unable to release it as he came nearer to the throbbing ache. Flustered, your hand shot up to Mattheo’s that was on the popcorn bucket. He was still tense when he looked down at you.
He could see the blushing mess you were as you stared up at him with doe like eyes. He looked back up to the tv screen as he inserted two of his fingers into your mouth. The blanket hiding you from Theo’s eyeline. You sucked at Mattheo’s fingers, admiring him as his jaw unclenched. His eyes still looked at the tv but you could tell it was making him more needy when he re-adjusted his position, slightly bucking his hips up.
As you continued using your mouth on Mattheo’s fingers, Theo’s hand ever so slightly tugged at your shorts. His hand snaked up your torso, tapping lightly on you for permission to keep going. He immediately got the point when your hand went down to where his rested, pushing it back in the direction of your cunt. He wasted no time actually pulling down your shorts, leaving your underwear in place.
Theo could feel the warmth of you contrasted by the wet spot on your underwear. He gently rubbed at you through your underwear. Completely unaware of your tongue being wrapped around Mattheo’s fingers. You hummed slightly, flustered by all the attention. You rocked your hips towards Theo, wanting to be closer to him.
Mattheo clearly had enough of you around just his fingers. He removed himself from your mouth and freed his cock. The blanket still somehow hiding everything as his cock hit his stomach. He guided your hand towards himself. His hand still wrapped around yours as he pumped himself using you. You could feel his breathing becoming more and more uneven as you pumped him. Eventually looking up at him with big eyes as you took a small part of him into your mouth. His mouth fell open but no sounds came out as he tried to keep quiet. You could feel his body tense underneath you as he got closer.
Pleasing Mattheo just made you more wet when you saw how he was reacting to you. The extra wetness just encouraged Theo as he finally pulled aside your underwear. He slid his finger across your slit. Dragging your wetness up towards your clit as he circled it. He moved his hand back down and plunged his middle finger into you. Fucking you with his hand as you throbbed around him. His thumb found itself on your clit, adding pressure as he sped up his movements.
Your hips bucked onto his hand as you kept licking at Mattheo’s cock. A small whimper fell from his mouth which immediately let Theo know what was happening. He grinned as he pulled the blanket off revealing the scene that was hidden underneath.
Mattheo was happy to be found out, now allowing himself to moan and whimper as loudly as he wants.
“Oh how naughty, Amore mio.”
He fastens the pace with his fingers, making sure to focus on the clit as you moan against Mattheo’s cock. Sending vibrations throughout him and gaining a buck of his hips into your mouth.
“Mia bella, you’re taking us so well. Mi ecciti, fuck.” He breathes out. Theo removes his hand from your cunt just as you’re about to cum, replacing the loss with his mouth. You can feel his tongue inside you and it’s driving you crazy as you suck off Mattheo.
“Baby, please.” Mattheo whimpers, his eyes connecting with yours. You notice how overstimulated he seems as tears prick at his eyes. But even though he’s begging for you, there’s still a dominance in him.
Mattheo’s head throws back on the couch, his chest heaving as he cums into your mouth. His hand goes up to your head, holding you in place as he tangles with your hair.
“Fuck, I want to destroy you until I feel better.” Mattheo groans, as he shoots his seed down your throat.
“Swallow for me baby, please.” His hips buck upward into your mouth, his eyes rolling back as you do as he says.
Once you swallow his load, you release onto Theo’s tongue. He continues to lick at you before pulling away.
He stands and walks towards Mattheo, who’s absolutely exhausted and breathing unevenly as Theo leans down and connects their lips. Letting Mattheo taste you off of his tongue.
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cloudybarnes · 7 months
Text
new beginnings
Pairing: theodore nott x reader
Summary: after theo very unexpectantly breaks up with you, you try your best to pick yourself back up and move on. theo, on the other hand, seems to be having a harder time of that.
Word Count: 2.2k+
Masterlist
part two :)
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✰  ✰  ✰
“(Y/N), you’ve got to get out of bed at some point.” Hermione said. She was sitting on the side of your bed while you laid fully wrapped under the covers. Hermione gently tugged the blanket down from your chin, but you whined a little in protest. 
“‘Mione, I seriously can’t do this yet.”
Theo, your boyfriend of over a year had broken up with you only a few short days ago. You’d been in bed ever since, heartbroken over what could have been. 
“(Y/N), I know you’re upset, but you have to get up. I can’t let you live the rest of your life in bed! Don’t you know how badly your bum would hurt from laying all of your life?” Hermione joked. 
A small smile grew on your lips. “Yeah, that would be pretty tragic. I have too nice of a butt to let that happen.”
Hermione laughed. “There she is! I’ve missed your little jokes. Ron and Harry have become quite boring without you around. I think they’re worried about you.” 
You groaned. “Nooo. I hate when people worry about me. It’s just so awkward when I have to be like ‘I’m fine’, ‘no really, I’m fine’.”
Hermione shrugged. “Well, are you?”
You sighed, pulling the covers down from your chin. You looked up at her, a forlorn look on your face. “Definitely not, but I suppose you’re right. I don’t want to be stuck in here for the rest of my life. I just, I just don’t think I can handle seeing him right now.”
Hermione looked at you sadly. “I know. I hate seeing you so upset like this. God, what I would do to put a hex on that boy. He’s quite deserving of it, I would say. Maybe a rat’s tail, or a snake tongue.”
You giggled and sat up in bed. “Or how about we make him bald, or worse, blonde.” 
Hermione laughed at that. “Oh, Godric, then we’d have another Draco running around. I don’t think I could handle that.”
“Me either,” you laughed. Slowly, your smile dropped. “I just hate him. Well, no, I don’t hate him. And I hate that! I hate that even after breaking my heart I still love him and long for him.”
Hermione sighed, “I’m sorry, (Y/N/N), I wish I could say something or do something to make this better, I just really don’t know what.”
You shrugged, “yeah, it is what it is. It’s not your fault he’s an ass.”
She chuckled. “So, what do you say? You wanna try to get down to the great hall before dinner starts? I’m sure the guys would like to see you again.” 
You thought it over for a minute. You really had missed your friends. Other than Hermione, you’d ostracized yourself from everyone just to avoid Theo. 
But were you really ready to see him again? You didn’t think you would ever be ready to see him again. 
“You know what,” you stated, “I am gonna go to dinner tonight. And I’m gonna ignore him and see my friends who I’ve missed and ignore the hell out of him because he’s an ass and why should I be the one who has to stay in bed all day?”
“Woohoo!” Hermione cheered. “You’re amazing, let’s get you showered and dressed. I hate to say it, but if you’re gonna get back into the world, you need to wash your hair.” 
You chuckled as you picked up a piece of hair to inspect it. “Yeah, okay. Shower first, look really pretty, eat dinner, come back. Piece of cake.” 
You pushed the covers off of you as Hermione stood from the bed. 
She said, “I’m gonna grab your clothes, so just get in the shower. We shouldn’t be too late to dinner that way.”
You nodded and headed to the bathroom. You were gonna go in there, socialize with your friends, reassure them you were fine, and everything would go back to normal. You hoped. 
✰  ✰  ✰
“(Y/N)!” Ginny shouted as you and Hermione made it to the Gryffindor table. She stood up from her seat and pulled you right into a hug. 
Releasing the breath you didn’t know you were holding, you smiled and held her even tighter in the hug. Ginny was an amazing friend to you. She had tried her best to see you, but you didn’t let anyone in. Only Hermione since she shared the room with you. 
Pulling away, Ginny dragged you to sit down next to her. Hermione followed suit and sat on the other side of you. “Oh, we’ve missed you so much, (Y/N/N). We’ve all been so worried about you, haven’t we?”
Harry and Ron sat across from you. They both nodded their heads, agreeing with Ginny. 
“Yeah, what an ass,” Ron scoffed. “Honestly, someone needs to knock that bloke down from his high horse. He doesn’t know what he’s missing, (Y/N/N).”
“Yeah,” Harry replied as he pushed some mashed potatoes in his mouth. “Theodore is a walking red flag. I for one am not sorry for him. He lost a good girl and he’s gonna regret what he’s done.”
You smiled at them. “Yeah, I am pretty awesome. Thanks guys.”
They chuckled and continued eating. Merlin knows those two could eat an entire quidditch field full of food. 
“Ahem,” a throat cleared from behind you. 
Turning around, you saw Enzo standing there sheepishly. 
“Uh,” he stuttered, “hey, (Y/N).” 
“Oh,” you said. “Uh, hi Enzo. Do you need something?” You couldn’t hide the crack in your voice. Damn it.
Enzo was probably your favorite of Theo's friends. He was always the one you had most in common with, and therefore connected with pretty easily. You’d never hung out one on one, so you couldn’t really say he was your friend. 
“I-no I don’t need something, per say. I just wanted to talk to you. Alone, if, uh, that’s alright.” 
You looked back at your friends, unsure if you should talk with him or not. They all seemed to be the same amount of weary as you were, but you were intrigued. 
“I don’t really want to talk to Theo, if that’s what this is.”
Enzo shook his head. “No! Ahem, no. I wanted to talk to you. To, uh, apologize kind of? I don’t know. It’s fine if you don’t wanna talk to me, this was silly, I’m sorry-“
“It’s fine, Enzo,” you cut off his rambling. “I’ll speak with you.” You looked back at your friends as you stood up from the table. “I’ll be right back.”
They nodded their heads as you let Enzo lead you away from the table and out the door. 
Once you two stood out in the hallway, Enzo kind of just shuffled his feet around, almost as if he was shying away from talking to you. 
“Am I supposed to say something first?” You questioned, crossing your arms over your chest. 
“No, sorry,” he said as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I just feel a little awkward. I know what happened between you and Theo, but I guess I just hoped that didn’t mean we couldn’t be friends anymore.”
Your eyes softened a little at his confession. Enzo’s cheeks blushed a little as you stared at him. 
You sighed. You and Enzo really had been good friends, and you weren’t exactly keen on losing his friendship. 
“I mean,” he continued, “you’re the only one who doesn’t make fun of my poetry, you’re the one I go to when I want to talk about books or get recommendations from, and I just would hate to lose our friendship just because I’m friends with Theo as well.”
Your heart melted. “Enzo, of course I still want to be friends with you. I will admit, I was a little nervous you wouldn’t want to talk to me anymore after Theo broke up with me. I really enjoy being your friend.”
Enzo smiled in relief. “Oh good. I thought this would be more awkward and a little bit more sad than how it’s actually going.”
You giggled. “Thank god. I don’t know what I would have done if I just had a real breakup as well as a friendship breakup.”
Enzo smiled awkwardly. “Yeah, I am really sorry about that. I don’t know why he would ever break up with you in the first place. You’re so kind, and I thought you brought the best out in him.”
You forced an awkward smile. You really did not want to be talking about Theo right now, especially not about how you made him a better person. 
Before you could reply, a voice yelled out from behind you. 
“Oi!”
Turning around, you could see Theo storming up towards you and Enzo. 
“What the fuck, mate?” Theo huffed as he got in between you and Enzo. 
“Woah!” You shouted, backing up as Theo got up into Enzo’s face.  “Theo, what are you doing?”
He ignored you and kept talking to Enzo. “Are you hitting on my girlfriend? Right after all the shit we just went through?”
“What?” Enzo squeaked. “I’m not hitting on her, I was just talking to her.”
You were pissed. Your fists balled up at your sides as you stomped up to Theo. You grabbed onto his shoulder and yanked him away from Enzo. Theo didn’t see it coming, so he stumbled and fell back a couple of steps. 
“Get the hell away from him,” you growled. “And what the fuck is wrong with you, Theodore?” 
You got between Theo and Enzo, pushing your finger into your ex-boyfriend’s chest accusingly. 
“First,” you said, “you break up with me, break my heart, and then you have the fucking nerve to come up here all righteous and accuse Enzo of whatever the fuck you said, all while calling me your girlfriend when you’re the asshole who broke up with me!”
You glared at Theo, watching as his anger turned soft. “I am not your girlfriend anymore, Theodore Nott. You’re the one who made that happen, so you have no fucking right to come up in my conversations acting like I owe you anything.” 
“(Y/N),” he softly said. “I… I’m sorry. You’re right, I shouldn’t have come out here all crazy. I just, I hate seeing you with anyone else, even if it’s one of my friends.” 
He turned to talk to Enzo, “I’m sorry, mate. Will you give us a few minutes?” 
Enzo nodded his head and gave you an awkward smile before heading back into the dining hall. 
You huffed, settling down a little as you stared at Theo. 
He looked tired. His eyes had circles underneath them, and his cheeks didn’t have their usual flush to them. He was as gorgeous as ever, but he looked drained. 
“You don’t look so good,” you pointed out, trying to sound nonchalant. 
Theo frowned and softly said, “neither do you.”
Your lips pulled tight in a frown. Theo didn’t need to know how much he had affected you with the breakup. 
You sighed, “what are you doing, Theo?”
He shrugged and put his hands in his pockets awkwardly. “I, uh, I’m not really sure. I just didn’t like seeing you with Enzo.”
“Why? You broke up with me.”
Theo huffed, “I don’t know. I just don’t like seeing you with anyone else. It still feels like I’m supposed to be there. Like I’m supposed to be the one with you. I miss you.”
You shook your head as hurt started to creep back into your heart. “Don’t say things like that to me, Theo. Not after what you did. I loved you, and you broke up with me out of nowhere for no good reason, either.”
“I’m sorry,” he tried to reach for you, but you shrugged off his hand. “I don’t know why I did what I did. I just know that I regret it like crazy. I want to be with you, (Y/N). I’ve always wanted to be with you, I was stupid to let you go. Can you forgive me?”
Your lips pulled tight. “Theo, I can’t just get back with you like this.” You said. “I don’t trust you anymore. You broke my heart, and broke my trust. You gave me no reason for the breakup, so who’s to say it won’t happen right after we get back together?”
He shook his head. “Dolcezza, no. I won’t do that to you, not again. What can I do to prove this to you?”
You shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t get back with you. Not like this, and not so soon. You really hurt me, Theo.”
“Well, what if we try being friends at least?” He suggested. 
“You wanna be my friend?”
“No,” he said immediately. “But I’ll settle for being your friend for as long as it takes to win you back.” 
Your heart warmed at what he had said. Maybe you could try being friends with him. He did really hurt you, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss him. 
“Okay,” you decided, “I’ll give you a chance to be my friend. Don’t hurt me again, Theodore, or I’ll get Ginny on you.”
He chuckled. “Don’t worry, darling, I’m gonna do whatever it takes to get my baby back. I can promise you that.” 
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slvttyplum · 4 days
Text
this was a request but i literally can not find it
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there he was, watching you through the crack of your shared bedroom, palming himself through his pants as his eyes scanned over every little move you were doing. your hand on your breast, slowly feeling yourself up as your other hand is pumping two fingers inside of you.
your back arching off of the mattress as you spread out your legs more, a pounding in your head from the pleasure that was surging throughout your body, it felt good to have your fingers slipping in and out of you with ease and the exact speed that you wanted, sugurus gaze laying upon you and everything that you did.
this felt like a one in a lifetime thing, watching you without anyone knowing and seeing all the naughty things that you did when he wasn't there, it felt like he was going to explode any minutes, it felt so good watching you, he couldn't look away. your chest rising and falling rapidly every time you hit your weak spot that had you wanting to close your legs from how good you were feeling.
“ah… suguru.” your eyes fluttering shut as you imagine him slamming inside of you, rolling your hips ever so slightly as the speed of your fingers pumping in and out of you gets faster, your mouth extremely wet and your head spinning. suguru let out a small quiet laugh as he watched you go at it, the way your fingers were moving amazed him, he's never seen you touch yourself in this manner, calling out his name like you wanted him to cum.
suguru slowly sliding down his sweatpants and palming his bulge again, this time he can feel how stiff he was under his hand, his veins popping out and small wet spot in his briefs, he had to touch himself, he didn't know when the last time you were going to touch yourself like you were now.
your walls squeezing around your fingers as you continue to inch closer towards your climax, your fingers playing with your hard nipple and non-stop blabbering, this had suguru fumbling to get his dick out and when he did, he stroked that shit so fast he thought it was going to fall off.
the view he had of you was perfect, he could look right at your wet dripping core and how your legs were trembling from how good you were feeling, his mouth getting dry and his eye twitching along with his dick. his name falling out your pretty mouth like warm icing, every time you said his name he would let out a little groan, his stomach sucking in as he gets closer to climax.
your fingers moving at great speed as you keep calling out his name, he had to stop himself from bursting into the room and fucking you, he had to calm himself down and just go with what his hand was doing, his jaw clenching and his body trembling alone with yours, his eyes pierced into you
your fingers going from pumping inside of you to tracing over your clit and rubbing circles over it, pressing down gently to add more stimulation, your eyes fighting to stay open so you could keep going, but your climax was right there creeping at your core.
suguru couldn't believe that he was about to finish before you, but he had no shame, holding his hand under the tip of his dick as his cum flows out, your face flashing in his mind wishing that you were under him holding your tongue out to get it. not even a minute after, you let out a loud moan as you finish, your back arching one final time then collapsing on the mattress.
suguru waiting a moment for the post nut clarity but after a minute it doesn't come, a smirk on his face, there was no shame when it came to finishing to you.
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rafeysdoll · 6 days
Note
i’m just thinking about kissing rafe’s nose and like running my finger over the bridge of his nose and just yeah i’m a slut for his nose if you can’t tell i hope this isn’t weird or sum
-💐
some fluff & soft rafe >.< he’s soooo ughhh i want him so bad sooooo bad.
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it was days like this that you wished you could stay stuck in forever. lazily laying down in bed with your boyfriend practically laying on top of you, buzzed head resting against your chest. the plushness of your tits providing a replacement for a pillow. “i love you,” you confess, manicured hands rubbing and scratching at his scalp gently. “so pretty,” you continue, hand trailing down to his face to poke his cheek before running your index down the bridge of his nose.
he hums before pulling away slightly, “you making fun of me?” he grumbles slightly, almost stepping out of that drowsiness he fell into. “nooo, papi. you’re just really pretty,” you praise, moving yourself on your elbows when rafe lifts up from you. “i’m not pretty,” he states, sounding more like a question when he furrows his eyebrows and tilts his head.
“yes you are,” you giggle softly, sitting up before cupping his cheeks and pressing a small kiss to his nose. “you’re being cheesy,” he mumbles, unable to lock eyes with you now, tongue thumbing at his cheek.
“just love you so much,” you whine slightly, pouting as you grab his larger hands and hold them. “you don’t like my cheesiness?” you ask with a faux pout, even giving a small sniffle to exaggerate. “mm, yeah, i like it. and i love you too, baby.” he smiles, lifting you up to pull you closer only to press a chaste kiss against your lips before squeezing your ass. “gotta love that ass too.”
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littleredwolf · 22 days
Text
Sinful Sighs
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
Summary: Bucky and Y/N are like a couple of horny teenagers after completing a mission where feelings were revealed - continuation of ‘Hungry Eyes’.  
Warnings: 18+ content - MINORS DNI- blowjob, fingering, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, sex with protection, cursing - just pure smut for the sake of it. 
Words: 1,303
A/N: Okay so part 2 came along sooner than expected - I am a woman with needs and apparently writing saucy fanfiction is how I fulfil them these days! Please forgive any mistakes/cringe moments - this is my first time writing full on smut and boy, was it a struggle!
--
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READ PART ONE [HERE]
The Quinjet had barely touched the tarmac before you and Bucky were barreling down its ramp and making your way into the compound, hands entwined as you marched towards the living quarters. 
“For the love of God, turn off your comms before you get to your room!” Sam called after you, prompting you to rip out your earpieces and leave them on a side table as you passed through the lounge. 
You couldn’t unlock your door quick enough, and you squealed excitedly when Bucky playfully slapped your ass and shoved you through it once you’d finally got it open.
His mouth was on yours in seconds, hands on your waist as he guided you backwards. You dropped onto the edge of the bed when you felt the mattress pressing against the back of your knees, looking up at the super soldier through lust-filled eyes as you began to undo his belt. He caressed your cheek with his flesh hand, his thumb brushing against your swollen lips as he watched you, groaning when you opened your mouth and began to suck on it - a taster of what was to come. His vibranium hand came up to clasp your hair, making you gasp in delight as he gently pulled on it to make you look up at him. 
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he admitted, his confession sending a bolt of electricity straight to your core. 
“I wish you’d told me sooner,” you purred as you finished unbuttoning his pants and began to remove them along with his underwear, licking your lips as your eyes settled on his throbbing erection. 
“And why’s that, doll?” He asked, indulging his curiosity. 
“So that I could have done this a long time ago,” you said, wrapping your hand around his cock and taking his full length into your mouth. 
Bucky inhaled sharply and tightened his grip on your hair, eliciting a moan from you that vibrated around his cock and caused him to buck his hips towards you. Your eyes watered as he hit the back of your throat, but you held steady and continued to work him into a frenzy, licking and sucking and drawing the most delicious sounds from him. 
He reluctantly pulled you away after a few minutes, and you whined at the loss of contact. 
“Lay back,” he ordered, taking off his shirt and watching you like a predator stalking its prey as you followed his instructions. He dropped to his knees once you were in position, and you sucked in a breath as he began a trail of kisses that started from the inside of your ankle and led up to your inner thigh. 
Lifting the skirt of your dress, he took a moment to admire your underwear before hooking his fingers in the waistband and sliding them down, tossing them aside and continuing his path of kisses. 
You whimpered as he reached your slick folds, and you felt him smile wickedly against them before sucking your clit into his mouth. Your hands flew to his hair, nails raking along his scalp as you rolled your hips to meet him, soft moans passing your lips that spurred him on. 
Gripping your hip and holding you in place with his vibranium hand, Bucky added his flesh hand to the assault on your pussy, sliding a finger inside while his thumb circled your clit alongside his tongue. 
“Fuck,” you gasped as his finger curled up and rubbed against your sweet spot, speeding up your impending orgasm. 
“That’s it, doll,” Bucky groaned, his breath ghosting over your pussy and adding to the sweet sensations. “Come for me.” 
It was all the encouragement you needed and within seconds your pussy was squeezing around his fingers, back arching as your moans filled the room. 
“Good girl,” Bucky praised once you were finished, removing himself from between your legs and licking your juices from his fingers as he climbed onto the bed. “Sweet as a peach.” 
The lewd act made you bite your lip, and at Bucky’s command you moved up the bed to lay back against the pillows, spreading your legs and allowing him to position himself between them. He kissed you deeply, needily, and you eagerly parted your lips for him when he teased them with that skillful tongue of his, drawing more moans from you as he trailed more sloppy kisses along your jawline and neck. Your hands returned to his hair as you thrust your hips up to meet his cock, aching to have him inside you. 
“Please, Buck. I need you,” you whimpered, looking up at him with pleading eyes. A look of uncertainty crossed his face as he hesitated a moment, and you didn’t need the ability to read minds to know what he was thinking. 
Reaching over to your nightstand, you opened the drawer and pulled out a condom, smiling reassuringly up at him as you ripped it open and reached down to roll it over his cock. He groaned at your touch, and when you were done he pressed his forehead against yours. 
“If you change your mind about this, let me know and I’ll stop,” he whispered, and you cupped his face to make him look at you. 
“Not gonna happen,” you replied. 
It was all the reassurance he needed, and with a searing kiss he lined himself up at your entrance and slid into you. You gasped as he slowly pushed himself all the way in, filling you completely, and he paused only a moment for you to get accustomed to the feeling before pulling away and repeating the motion. 
Your soft moans turned to heavy pants as Bucky began to move faster, wrapping your legs around him and pulling him closer with each thrust while his mouth set your skin ablaze with every kiss to your neck, face and chest. 
You squeaked in surprise when he grabbed your hips and pulled you closer, hooking your legs over his shoulders so that he could go deeper, and waves of ecstasy rolled over you as he brought you to the brink over and over again, the room filling with your exclamations of pleasure and encouragement for him to keep going. 
You lost count of how many times you came while Bucky fucked you, your pussy squeezing his cock and drawing the most explicit sounds from him. It didn’t take long for him to reach his own release, and his cries of pleasure joined yours as you both climaxed for the last time.  
You whined at the loss of contact when he pulled out to dispose of the condom, but he was back by your side in a matter of seconds, pulling you into his tight embrace and whispering sweet nothings in your ear as he planted soft kisses along your neck and shoulder. 
“I can’t believe we haven’t done that sooner,” he murmured, his breath against your ear giving you goosebumps. “You’re fucking amazing.” 
Your cheeks reddened and you laid your head on his chest to hide the fact. 
“Says you,” you scoffed, and now it was his turn to blush. “At least now we know, we can make up for lost time,” you mused, and he hummed in agreement, the rumbling of his chest vibrating against your ear. 
“Well, the sooner we get started, the better,” he stated, and you lifted your head to look at him with a raised eyebrow. 
“Really!? Already!?” 
“Perks of being a super soldier, doll,” he smirked, and you giggled as he nudged himself into you to show his returning hard on. 
“FRIDAY - add condoms to the shopping list,” you announced to the AI as you reached over and pulled another from the nightstand. You had a full box in there, but something told you they wouldn’t last long. 
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wonryllis · 2 months
Text
☆ ᵎᵎ ENHYPEN COMING HOME TO FIND YOU ASLEEP.
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╰ 𝖺𝗅𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇.
𝒏o𝓉ℯs. enhypen in whipped era 𖥔 ݁ fluff, soft soft softtt LIB? fem!reader word count `719 PLS REBLOG!!
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𝗹𝗲𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗲𝘀𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴 he knows you stay up late waiting for him, this time he finds your figure laid against the soft cushion in a weirdly adorable position. heeseung quietly tiptoes to have a closer look, taking his time to admire your sleeping face. oh he so wishes to keep coming home to you like this. he'd sit beside you and tell you things he could never have said to your face, his deepest thoughts. apologizing for things he could've done better and thanking you for being with him and loving him.
i think i will love you forever, i want to.
𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝗷𝗼𝗻𝗴𝘀𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗴 he is so used to it, at least he thinks he's so used to it but everytime he comes home to find you passed out on the couch, or on the carpet slightly lolling to the side the book in your hands almost falling off, he feels the same butterflies he did when it first happened. if you aren't in your pajamas already, best believe he'll change you himself, not wanting to disturb your sleep and put you to bed like magic fairy. he'll join you in later, and if you accidentally stir awake he'll put you back to sleep.
shh, go back to sleep love, i'm right here.
𝘀𝗶𝗺 𝗷𝗮𝗲𝘆𝘂𝗻 this guy has a field trip range of emotions upon seeing you asleep after a long day of work. he feels this fuzzy and warm feeling watching the one he loves sleep so peacefully, and on the other hand he's so excited to just join you. if you're on the couch he'll squeeze himself in whatever space he finds and cuddle you into the morning and if you're on the bed, he'll leech onto you leaving more than half the mattress empty while he snuggles into his baby on your side of the bed.
mmm, love having you in my arms like this
𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝘀𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗻 outwardly he's so nonchalant at first, just coming up to your passed out figure and picking you up to get you to the bed, a smile on the tip of his lips. however the moment you nuzzle into him in a soft whine, he's so putty feeling his heart skip beats, his breath staggering like boy is damn smitten. placing you on the bed he'll quietly pull the covers on, a sneaky kiss on the lips and then leave the room to calm himself down, maybe even scream silently a little with the way you get him nervous over nothing.
fuck, she's so damn adorable i'll melt.
𝗸𝗶𝗺 𝘀𝗲𝗼𝗻𝘄𝗼𝗼 he'll text you to ask if you're awake and if you don't respond he knows you're out. he'd definitely softly speak about his day even though you're not listening. complimenting you as he always does of how pretty you manage to look all the time. will sing you a bunch of songs if you wake up, holding you close and tracing over your features, smiling so wide all the tiredness of the day washes away. also makes sure to wake up before you to again admire your sleeping face.
you're the best thing that's ever happened to me.
𝘆𝗮𝗻𝗴 𝗷𝘂𝗻𝗴𝘄𝗼𝗻 asleep or not, jungwon is always careful when he walks through the door, softly opening and closing it. tiptoeing inside as quietly as he possibly can, and when he spots you asleep on the couch he'll put everything down to bring you to bed. carrying you like the most precious thing, laying you on the mattress and immediately leaning over to leave kisses all over. if you stir awake he's getting in and cuddling you back to sleep, hands caressing your head gently.
it's just me baby, you looked so cute couldn't help it.
𝗻𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗺𝘂𝗿𝗮 𝗿𝗶𝗸𝗶 will absolutely not switch on anything or make any sound and obviously will carry you to bed if you're passed out somewhere else. he'll kinda avoid looking at your face, until he cannot help it and god help him because once he does he'll be glued, eyes staring non stop. he can't believe someone so beautiful loves him, and all these complicated emotions come at once. he's overwhelmed and so whipped, he'd play around with your hair deep in these thoughts until sleep comes to him too.
how did i manage to have someone like you?
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taglist ( open. ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @luvyev @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @brachives @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @eeunoia @nxzz-skz
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plutoswritingplanet · 2 months
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It's A Special Death You Saved (Feyd Rautha x Female!Reader) pt. 2
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a/n: re-uploaded cause tumblr wouldn't show it in the tags for some reason Cross-Posted on AO3
Warnings: Dub-Con, Arranged Marriage, Reader is an Atriedes, Horny Violence, and some angsty family relations (lmao)
Summary: The courting becomes more and more complicated, as both you and the Na-Baron discover something about each other.
Part.1, Part 3. Part 4.(finale)
- He's a beast.
Lady Jessica stops in her tracks, her hands sliding gently across the fabric of your nightgown. It's your Mother, that puts it out on the table next to your bed. But the person, who turns back towards you with an unreadable expression, is most definitely not her. You're talking to a Bene Gesserit sister now. A freezing chill runs up your spine, and you start picking at the skin around your fingernails, a nervous habit you've picked up a long time ago.
- Have you forgotten all that I have taught you? - she asks, turning to face you fully, in the dimly lit space of your bedroom
Subconsciously you retreat into yourself, body leaning further away from her, as if that distance might save you from whatever unpleasant revelation will most likely fall upon you. Lady Jessica takes a deep breath, her lips pulling back into an easy, soothing smile. In the past, you would look for expressions such as this, fish them out for comfort. Now, as you look upon your Mother's face, it all seems to be a trap made specifically for you.
- Men like him, beastly men, are the weakest ones - she explains, taking slow steps towards your hunched form - They need the power and the blood to feel worthy of existing, which makes them easy to manipulate. Keep them pliant under your hands like fresh dough. 
She sits beside you, your mattress dipping under her weight, and your eyes are immediately drawn to your Mother's elegant hands, folded neatly in her lap. You wish you could put your head there. Have her pull your running thoughts out with gentle caresses. A hairbrush lays abandoned on the vanity in front of you, and silently you contemplate, whether you'll ever have the opportunity to have your hair brushed by her. 
- You must find his weakness, what drives him to do what he does. And then control it.
- I don't want to control my husband - the words spill out of your lips, before you have the chance to stop them - I want to love him, to support him. To give him children he'll love, children I'll love. 
Tears fall in heavy waterfalls down your cheeks. You haven't had the luxury of a good cry since your betrothed had arrived, and it feels divine. Letting your body shake and shiver, wrecked by uninhibited sobs, as your Mother looks down upon you, torn between the two roles she must fulfill. 
The more you've thought about your situation, the more hopeless you felt. The Harkonnens will never let you see your family again, you're sure of it. You'll have to deal with all the horrors of Giedi Prime entirely on your own, with no support from your husband, no friends, no family. And your children, as they are sure to come, will be taken away from you. Thrown into the black and white, until there's no love left in them. 
The Emperror is a cruel man, you think. An execution would've been a kinder end. 
- Why did you have to make me a Daughter? - the way your voice breaks in desperation fills you with shame - Why couldn't you give Father another Son?
You know you've overstepped, as soon as the accusatory tone registers in your brain. It is far too late by then, and the hands, which just moments before you've fantasized about running through your hair, grip you tightly. Your Mother's face, a constant image of beauty, twists into something darker, something you don't recognize, and you gasp, as her dull fingernails dig into the skin of your wrist.
- Your Father has Paul - her voice is barely above a whisper, blue eyes stabbing you with the intensity of her gaze - I gave him a son, because he asked for a son. Because I loved him enough to give him one. And he can have him. He can fill him with lessons of male leadership, of short-sighted plans. You. You are my Daughter. You are mine, and I've trained you well enough to conquer this task.
A hopeless pit settles itself in the void of your stomach.
You've always known your destiny would be to marry well, to further House Atreides' legacy. And yet, somehow, there was a sliver of hope, treacherously worming itself into your brain. Your Father had Paul, the perfect heir. Surely, he could send him off for the greater good and leave you to your own devices. Let you find someone to care for you, someone you'd do anything for. The thought sits in the pit of your stomach, turning your insides in shame. Still, you can't shake the sinking feeling, that if the universe was kind, you would've been born a Son. 
Your Mother, or more likely, the Bene Gesserit, stands up, a cold chill filling the space where her body used to sit. She regards you once, a stern, unwavering gaze.
- Wear black tomorrow.
Perhaps, you'll die in your sleep tonight. Perhaps the universe will bring you this small mercy.
*** Perhaps you did die. 
Through the haze of dreams, you can see him. Bare, as the day he was born, body gleaming white in the darkness of your room.
You can't move, can't see his face, and when he approaches, every single one of your muscles tense. You shift under the covers, cold tendrills of fear engulfing you entirely. He comes closer, moves like a wild cat, stands at the foot of your bed. 
The need to run is overwhelming, but your body refuses to listen, as slowly, torturously slowly, he climbs on top of you, defined muscles moving under his skin in a way that reminds you of some cursed demon, rather than a man. His scent fills your nostrils, a mixture of something heady and metalic, and, like a little child scared of the dark, you try to hide your face under the covers. 
This demon version of your betrothed sits down, sculpted thighs squeezing around your sides, and with rising panic you realize, he's slowly choking the life out of you. A fitting end, a welcomed one. Perhaps it would be better to die right now, before you discover what atrocities he plans to commit on your body and mind, after you're wedded. 
Then, his hand reaches behind his back, full lips pull upwards, exposing blackened out teeth. You barely register the glint of his sword, not until he holds it high up, above his hand. You're not allowed a moment to wallow in your confusion, as your future husband brings the weapon down, sinking it with brutal force into your beating heart.
You awake screaming.
***
In the morning, you pull a black tunic over your head, remnants of your dream clinging to you like an unwanted shadow. 
Every move of the silky fabric against your skin feels like a small defeat, and with your head hung low, you make your way towards the dining hall. Truly, you're not hungry, stomach turning and twisting, a steady presence of nerves keeping your body on edge. Your attendance is required however, such are customs, and it is entirely too eaarly for another lecture about your behaviour. 
As you enter the room, your mask of tired indifference slips just for a second, a mixture of fear and anger flickering in, and out of existence.
 There, opposite of your Father you can see him. Your future husband, the love of your miserable, ending life. Slow horror washes over you, as you suddenly realize that this demonic, otherwordly version of him, which visited you in your nightmares is just how he looks. He greets you with a polite inclination of his smooth head, and you consider not showing any outward sign of repulsion, a small victory on your part. Your Mother doesn't think so, but you dodge her sharp eyes in favor of greeting your brother.
It doesn't go unnoticed, the way Feyd Rautha's eyes drink in greedily the sight of you embracing Paul. His gaze lingers on your smile, and he raises his cup to his lips, scrunching his nose ever so slightly at the unfamiliar drink he's been offered. You want to ask, if they have coffee on Giedi Prime, but the question is forcefully swallowed down. You will not talk to this man. He will never know anything more than contempt from you. Curse your Mother's words, you'll fight this battle every day, on your own, if you have to. 
- My Daughter will show you around the training barracks after breakfast - Duke Leto announces, and you freeze with a cup of coffee half-way to your lips.
- Will I? - you ask, trying to control the edge in your voice. 
- Na-Baron has made inquires about a place to train - your Father explains, giving you a meaningful side eye - You'll accompany him. 
The coffee tastes like rot in your mouth, and you place your cup down with a note of finality. You won't look at him, you don't have to. That knowing smirk could be felt through the very particles flowing in the air, every single one laughing at your predicament. 
Despite your best efforts, the breakfast comes to an end, your family slowly rising to attend to their duties. Your Father, ever the cordial man, bids his farewells to the unwelcomed guest. Your Mother does the same, albeit sounding more honest. Paul lingers as long as Lady Jessica allows him, until he is forced to retreat by a slender hand tugging mercilessly on his elbow. A gesture both of you know intimately from your childhoods. 
Before you know it, you're left alone with the pale imitation of a man. He arises slowly from his seat, smoothly making his way towards you, each of his footsteps echoing in the dining room. 
- Shall we, my Lady? 
Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his offered hand, like a white spider living just outside of your vision. With a shudder, you slip out of your chair, trying very hard not to touch him, and failing immediately, when his broad chest nearly pushes you back into your seat. 
He smells nice, your brain betrays you, the scent bringing back images from your night terror, causing an involuntary shiver to run up your spine. With averted gaze, you turn to leave, ignoring his still extended hand. He follows you like a shadow, catching up to you in no time, as you slide through the corridors of the Palace. It's uncomfortable, to say the least, walking with him behind your back. His eyes bear into you, a prickly feeling at the base of your neck making you roll your shoulders.
It follows you, as he follows, right to the very destination. All in blessed silence, a small miracle to save this already dreadful morning.
The men, launging about at the training barracks freeze in their spots, and your heart nearly jumps out of your chest, when Duncan Idaho catches your eyes. His skin has a beautiful, warm tone, highlighted by the morning sun flowing into the room through the windows. You nod, he nods back, an unspoken understanding blooming between the two of you. There could be no suspicion of any closer bond, lest this engagement would be called off. A result, perhaps favorable to you personally, but your family would never live down the shame. And you would never jeopardize Paul's future, no matter how hollow yours looked.
- You have a warrior's body - your betrothed comments, as he inspects the blades laid out on a small table - Do you train here as well?
Small talk, you could do small talk. With a sigh, you tear your gaze away from Duncan, and turn to the Harkonnen, forcing something resembling a polite smile to bloom onto your features. 
- Yes, I do - you answer curtly, eyes falling onto elegant, white fingers, sliding over a shiny metal blade. 
- It is not a common practice here, is it? - he looks at you, eyes gliding over your stature - Women being trained to fight?
Suddenly very much aware of your body, you cross your arms on your chest, hugging yourself tightly. You don't miss the way his gaze seems to linger on the low neckline of your tunic, and with bitterness on your tongue you wonder, has this man ever felt ashamed. 
- Not common, but it does happen - your voice betrays your emotions, a sharp edge settling over your tone, causing the man to arch an eyebrow.
Finally, he settles onto a chosen blade, bringing it up to the light and with laser focus observing the way particles dance on the steel surface. Then, he looks back at you, catching you in the act of observing the prominent, lean muscles on his neck. You ignore the knowing smirk and will your blushing cheeks to suddenly become devoid of color.
They don't, of course, and you scurry to the side of the table, to fiddle with the rest of the weaponry. Your favorite training blade is there, and instinctually, your hand reaches for it. 
- Train with me.
The request catches you off guard, and you shoot him a questioning look, one he deflects with a nonchalant shrug. 
Your muscles flinch, as you drag your hand back from the blade. 
- It would hardly be appropriate - you counter, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your tunic.
To that, he tilts his head, light eyes studying you for a longer moment, until you truly feel uncomfortable under such scrutiny. 
- And suddenly you're worried about what the court says? - he cuts you off, before you have the chance to ask, just what exactly does he mean by that - Perhaps you're too soft to fight me.
- I know what you're doing - you point an accusatory finger at his chest, and the man smiles, blackened teeth peaking between his full lips.
- And what am I doing? - it's hard to ignore the teasing timbre in his voice, and you swallow thickly.
- You're trying to get under my skin.
Shivering under the expected cruel glint in his eye, as another, most likely filthy innuendo purses his lips, you turn to him fully, a serious expression on your features.
- I've seen you fight, Na-Baron - his jaw tightens at the sound of your voice curling around his title - I know you're a force to be reckoned with, I'm not scared to admit that.
He straightens, regards you with furrowed brows for a longer second, until, yet again you start to fidget under his gaze.
- Perhaps then, you're scared you'll hurt me - the mere idea is so preposterous, your head snaps in his direction - If I had known, you liked me that much...
- That is entirely not true, and you know it - you deflect again, although annoyance begins to paint your voice.
Then, his hand shoots out, gripping your arm and pulling you closer. Air seems to thicken around you, as you look up at him, with surprise quickly morphing into outrage. His breath mingles with yours, and you can't seem to look away from his eyes, pupils nearly drowned in the overwhelming blue of his irises.
- Stop hiding, my viper. Fight me.
The command, spoken in a harsh whisper just shy of your lips, turns your insides into molasses. 
His taller form leans down to tower over yours, an intense expression settling over his sharp features. Close to excitement, much too close to desire, even closer to a murderous curiosity. Your throat feels entirely too dry, and before you can stop yourself, you swallow thickly, tongue darting out to lick your lips. His eyes snap almost immediately downwards, and your heart stops beating. You can't see anymore blue in his irises, only black. Darkness covers his eyes reflecting his thoughts, and you feel like you have to flee right now, before something terrible happens to you. 
So you do just that. Ripping yourself away from his closeness, you return to the table, hand finding your chosen blade without really looking. 
Another flash of black teeth, as the Na-Baron realizes what you're doing, and the both of you enable the shields surrounding your bodies. 
The gathered soldiers watch on, as you march towards the center of the room, determination filling every step to the brim. Duncan gives you a look, which you choose to ignore. You can't think about him now, not when you have your honor to defend against this Harkonnen monster of a man. 
Feyd Rautha rolls his shoulders, discards the thin fabric of his dress shirt, and once again you are stricken with his almost god-like physique. The blade looks like an extension of his hand, as he weighs it and slashes the air in front of him. Then, he fixes you with a challenging expression, as if he expects you to do the same, to try and best him at some shameless display.
You decide to keep your clothes on, blade held high, ready to strike. 
He jumps from one leg to another, and immediately an orchestra of alarm bells rings out in your brain. Should a man really be this excited at the prospect of fighting his future wife? Should you be this excited? Questions without answers, and before any of you make a move, another one absent-midedly floats to the surface. Just how much can you hurt each other, before the wedding is concluded? How much you'll inevitably hurt each other after?
The darkness he has brought on the ship with him must be contagious, because despite your better judgement, you smile. A sharp smirk, that makes your eyes look less like a human and more like a wild animal. And he drinks it all in, as he begins to circle you.
You'd never show him your back, never again. He's a tried and true predator, the only instinct he has, is a killer one. A fact you quickly get aquatinted with, as he unleashes a series of lightning fast strikes your way. 
Immediately you realize, that small show of cruelty he organized at your grandfather's theatre was nothing, compared to what he could truly do. And still, you suspect he's holding back, as you barely dodge a nasty stab, right under your ribs. Another one is blocked against your sheild, and before you have a chance to collect yourself, third one sends you back a couple of steps. 
He doesn't let you get away, with confident steps pushing you further and further out of the center of the training floor.
Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Duncan Idaho stand up from his place. Thinking back to your last training session, you shudder bitterly. "Never fight in anger" is easy to say, when you're not forced to marry, bed and sunsequently give children to the man you're fighting. 
Panting and sweating, you give Feyd Rautha your all, twirling in place, sliding on your feet. A different kind of choreography, which seems to work surprisingly well, with his almost animalistic force. Gurney taught you how to be powerful, how to land strikes which were as effective, as they were cunning. Duncan, on the other hand, taught you how to dance. So that's what you do.
Finally, you manage to grab at his free hand, locking your feet between his and bringing him closer to your blade. It stops just short of his artery, blocked by his dagger, the clash of metal reverberating through the halls. 
The smirk he gives you is beyond nasty, and forcefully, you push away from him, as if the very idea of skin to skin contact repulsed you. And it does, it truly does, especially now that adrenaline mixed with frustration boils in your head. 
- Again - you snarl his way, assuming your fighting stance.
- As my Lady commands - his voice has a natural growl to it, made even more prominent by the exertion of the fight, and he twists his body into a perversion of a curtsy.
This time you're the one to attack first, ignoring your menthor's words and relying on pure rage to guide your steps. A stab to his thigh, which he deflects with seemingly childish ease. Your tunic slips through his fingers, as you slide under his arm. Out of the corner of your eye you can see his blade, when he hides it into his belt. Confusion hits you suddenly. Was he giving up, why was he hiding his weapon? None of the questions get answered, as a foot curls itself around your ankle.
Your balance leaves you with a gasp of surprise, and soon, your back is on the floor, Feyd Rautha following closely behind. Your heated gaze meets his, as one hand wrenches the blade from your grasp and pins both your arms above your head. The other one supports his weight, as he hovers above you, light bleeding behind him in an unfitting image of a halo. 
Your chest heaves, sweat rolling down your collarbones, and the Harkonnen doesn't even try to hide the way his gaze follows a stray drop of salt, as it disappears between your breasts. 
- You fought well - he complements in a hushed tone, and you writhe desperately under his body.
The night terror rears its ugly head again, as you feel his tighs press onto your sides, almost as if he wants to shape your flesh into the imprint of his body.
- I think I prefer you like this - he whispers, face coming closer to the exposed column of your neck - You belong under me. 
That's what does it. Your face twists into an expression of equal parts disgust, and fury. You won't give him this victory, you'd rather die. Legs tangle themselves around his calves, and you use all your strength fueled by the burning need to fucking hurt him. 
The world spins, two bodies rolling on the floor, and suddenly you're on top of him, legs biting into his hip bones. While one hand supports your weight on his naked shoulder, the other finds the dagger hidden in his belt. The surprised gasp, which leaves his lips feels like music to your ears, and you don't even try to fight the awful smirk splitting your mouth.
The shield on his neck glows an angry red, as you press the tip of the blade down, right under his bobbing Adam's apple. He swallows, for just a second letting you see the mask of self confidence slip. He has quite long eyelashes, you notice, as his eyelids flutter, a low hum reverbating through his chest. Eyes that are neither blue nor completely black drink in the sight of you. The halo of your hair, the snarl on your lips, the curve of your waist, where one of his hands settle. 
Missing all of this, too enraptured by your own fury, you push the blade further down until it pricks his alabaster skin. He hisses through his blackened teeth and you want more, you want him to scream. A thin streak of red begins to flow down his neck, and God help you, it looks like art. 
His grip on your waist tightens, all five fingers digging into your flesh through the thin tunic. Feyd Rautha bares his teeth at you in a cruel smile, one that makes you question whether you're the one in control.
And then his hips roll upwards. 
A barely noticable movement, easily mistaken for a spasm of the muscles, but you know better. You can read it all from his expression, his pupils blown wide, the quickened breaths of air slipping past his lips. From the quickly hardening length pressing against your inner thigh. 
Your stomach flutters with a well known feeling, and that terrifies you more than any pain-motivated erection ever could. Because he sees it, he sees the beginning flames of desire taking root in your center, and the realization looks like ecstasy on his face. Humiliation washes through you, fills you completely. There is no awkward blush on your face, no. All you feel is white, freezing terror, as all your defences seem to crumble all at once.
Like a scared animal, you're off of him in a split-second, and he doesn't chase you, as you all but run from the training barracks. Doesn't have to, he already has everything he needs. 
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cntloup · 1 month
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18+ MDNI Simon preventing you, his lovely wife from going to work
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look at him what a cutie patootie :3
He grabs you by the waist and pulls you onto his lap as he sits on the edge of the bed, peppering kisses on your face and making you giggle.
"Siii!! I have to go to work!" you whine in between giggles.
"No, lovie. My wife doesn't have to work." he retorts, voice low and gruff, it makes your pussy throb.
He lays you down on the bed, "Just lie back and look pretty f'me! Yeah?" he murmurs into your neck, brushing his lips against your sensitive skin.
All the while kneading the plush of your breasts under your (his) shirt with his rough hands and twiddling your nipples with his calloused fingers, making you moan softly in his ear. Even the slightest of his touch makes you feel floaty.
"I'll call your boss, lovie. Don't worry." he says with a glint in his eyes.
"Hmm...Ok, Mr. Riley!" you hum, grinning widely. That sure sounds tempting.
He pulls at the hem of your panties, awaiting your approval and you nod eagerly.
He removes them and spreads your legs, shiny pussy on display for him.
"So pretty, baby!" he coos and kisses your clit, making you shiver.
He takes his weeping cock out of his sweatpants and settles between your legs, his hands running up and down the soft skin of your thighs.
He kisses your lips as he lines himself up at your entrance and gently pushes the tip inside.
He pulls back to watch your reaction and goes on when he sees nothing but pleasure sparkling in your eyes, your lips falling open and a soft whimper slipping through.
He locks your lips together again as he readily slides inside your slick warmth further and further.
He swallows your gasped-out moan, his chest rumbling with a deep groan as he's deep inside you.
He pulls away ever so slightly, "You ok, love?" he asks with concern.
"Yess, baby! Please move!" you plead desperately, swaddling his waist tighter with your legs.
"Patience, baby! There's no rush. You're all mine today." he purrs, leaning in to kiss you again, moaning at your sweet taste on his tongue and the divine sensation of your warm walls enfolding his pulsating cock.
"Wish we could stay like this forever." he croons, softly kissing the skin below your ear and you hum contently with a smile.
You whimper and mewl, clutching his shoulders and squeezing your eyes shut as he gently thrusts into you.
You feel a tingle behind your eyes and soon, droplets of tears quietly flow down the sides of your face.
He kisses your tears away, knowing fully well how you feel, his own heart fluttering with all the love and devotion he holds for you.
"I love you." he whispers so as not to disrupt the tender moment.
"I love you too, Si." you murmur, looking at him through lidded glossy eyes, fully absorbed in his warmth, saturated with his love.
You cup his face in your hands and pull him in for yet another loving kiss.
Your lips move rhythmically against each other, moaning and whimpering into the kiss as he tenderly makes love to you.
You feel the familiar warm sensation pooling up in your belly.
And within moments, your back arches off the sheets, your thighs tremble and squeeze tighter around him as you cry out his name.
His chest reverberates against yours with a low growl as you sense the warmth filling up your womb.
He kisses your lips, tightening his hold on you and staying inside you while resting his head on your shoulder.
And your hearts swell with love and happiness in each other's arms.
comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated ♥ 
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cherubfae · 2 months
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carrying you to bed || hazbin/helluva x reader
With Alastor, Lucifer, Charlie, Angel Dust, Husk, Loona, & Blitzø
tags: gn!reader, established relationship, fluff
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Alastor
He lets out a deep sigh, staring down at you with slow blinks. "My love, surely that can't be comfortable for you" He has warned you time and time again not to spread yourself too thin with your tasks. Alastor appreciates how much of a good work ethic you have, but what is it worth if you don't have the strength to walk to your room? He picks you up as gently as he can, melding into shadow as he pops into your room. Carefully laying you down, Alastor will cover you up and with a gentle pat on your head before he takes his leave. Perhaps, next time he'll be tempted to rest beside you.
Lucifer
No wonder you hadn't answered him when he called your name. Here you were, fast asleep on his deep red chaise lounge using your folded arms as pillows. Lucifer picks you up bridal-style half-wishing you were awake so that you could see how strong he is! Another time, he thinks. Your rest is much more important than his ego (for now). "Sleep well, honey." He grins, wiggling beneath the sheets like an inch warm, his eyes sparkling with admiration. Placing a kiss to your head, Lucifer is quick to fall asleep.
Charlie
Honestly, she really does try her best not to squeal at the sight of you. You've been working insanely hard for the hotel-- it's no wonder you're so pooped out! She's careful with wiggling one arm beneath your back and hooking the other beneath your knees. She'll carry you to whichever room is closest: yours or hers. Maybe she'll be able to convince you to move into her suite soon. "Oh my gosh, aren't you just the cutest, honey?? I love you so much!"
Angel Dust
"Awww, sweets! Lookit ya! All tuckered out." He cooed in a hushed whisper, lightly booping your nose. His grin widens when it crinkles upwards. His middle set of arms pick you up, preferring to use his gloved ones to stroke back your hair softly. Leaning his cheek against your forehead, Angel carries you off to his room where an excited Fat Nuggets happily circles the bed in preparation for a lovely nap with his two favorite people.
Husk
Putting away the final glass beneath the bar's counter, his yellow eyes drift to your sleeping form at the end of the bar. You'd insisted on waiting for him to finish but all that work promoting the hotel on foot, searching for any sinners ready to be redeemed was a hard task. Husk fought back a smile. "You really do care about this stuff, dont'cha?" He asks despite knowing you won't answer. "Let's get ya to bed." Husk stretches his wings with a sigh before they fall slack. He lifts you into his arms and makes the trek up the stairs.
Blitzø
He'll bitch and groan about it, but he also won't let anyone else touch you when you're sleeping. Blitz will make some claims about how the person trying to touch you probably has cooties or a viral infection or something. Not happening. He's quick to scoop you up into his arms, eyes narrowed slightly, before scampering off to his room with you. "No, you don't get to fuckin' touch them with your gross unwashed hands, Moxxie-- yeah, that's right I saw you! We are living in post-Covid times, mister! Ack, no, leave 'em! I'll carry them just fine thank you!"
Loona
|| please don't repost, reuse, or edit my works in any way! I do not give permission. Tumblr is the only site where I post. All characters belong to their rightful owner and the story belongs to me © CHERUBFAE 2024 ||
She smirks when she sees you. You look so sweet and cute, curled up into a ball. But that position can't be good on your spine, nor sleeping on Blitz's sad depression sofa. Loona bends down to lift you into her arms, pushing open her bedroom with her elbow and closing it shut with her foot. A nap with you sounded perfect. "You sure do look cute when you're tired, babe." She nuzzles your cheek with her nose.
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thelaisydazy · 2 months
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Firefighter!Simon Riley x Reader - Locked Out Pt. 2
Johnny drags you inside the station, ignoring the confused looks he gets from the other men inside. He walks you over to the oldest of them, a man with a beard sporting a hat, and introduces you. 
“This is oor captain, Price,” Johnny says, his arm still over your shoulder. “Cap, bonnie ‘ere lost their keys doon th’ drain. Can we gi’ them a hand?”
“I’m sure Gary could get to them,” Price says, offering a warm smile and his hand to shake, which you do. “You rest here mux.” He turned to the couch where a man with dark, curly hair sat. “Kyle, keep our guest company, we’ll be back.” He pats Johnny on the shoulder and the two leave to find Gary and retrieve your keys. 
Kyle stands from the couch and walks over. He’s handsome, pretty you think. He definitely knows it too as he catches you staring, giving you a smile. “Hungry?” he asks.
---
Simon emerged from the showers, wearing only a pair of sweatpants, his damp towel slung over his broad shoulders as his blond hair was still dripping wet. The station house was quiet. Johnny must still be out walking Riley. 
A quiet laugh broke that silence though. One that made his stony heart skip a beat. Simon made his way towards the common area, finding the one thing he never expected. You. 
Kyle was sitting with one arm on the couch behind you, the other on his leg. You hadn’t noticed Simon yet, too engrossed in Kyle’s story about the time Riley climbed into the open window of a cop car to get into a bag of treats the officer had hidden under his seat.
“So Riley was hanging halfway out this cop’s car, an’ Johnny’s trying to get him out before the cop gets back,” Kyle said. “Turns out, the cop had a bag of treats in the car. Found out when Simon called Riley over. Rascal had the bag hanging out his mouth.” 
The sound of your laugh makes Simon’s heart race and he finds himself jealous of the way your fingers gently scratched behind Riley’s ear as the dog’s head lays in your lap. 
Simon can’t help but stare. He’d always known how pretty you were, but seeing you here in the station.. He only wished he was the one you were sitting with. That he was the one making you laugh so easily. 
“Bonnie! We got yer keys!” Johnny calls, coming up behind Simon. 
Your head whips around, catching a glimpse of Simon as he turns on his heels and retreats deeper into the station. 
---
In his room, Simon’s heart pounds in his chest. He runs a large hand through his blond hair, his mind racing. All he’d wanted these past few months was to know you better, though he’d never been able to bring himself to speak more than a few words to you. Never had he thought he’d see you in the firehouse, much less cozied up on their couch. What were you even doing here? 
A knock on his door brought his answer. Simon quickly pulled on his privacy mask, some part of him hoping it was you. Instead he saw Johnny. 
“Aye, Si, did ye see we git a guest?” Johnny asked with that cheeky grin of his. Ah. That was it. Johnny brought you here. 
“I saw..” Simon said, keeping his voice measured despite his urge to to tear Johnny in half for getting up the nerve to talk to you before he could. 
“Ye never told me tha’ wee thing wis so cuit,” Johnny pressed. “S’already git Kyle wrapped ‘round their wee finger.”
Simon’s dark eyes sharpened. Johnny always knew just how to get under his thick skin. 
“Am sure they’d lek t’ see ye,” Johnny continued. “Looked a might fash when ye stormed off.”
“Didn’t ‘ave m’ mask,” Simon muttered. “Wasn’t expecting them..”
“Aye, ha t’ git Gary t’ rescue their keys,” Johnny explained. His blue eyes briefly looked Simon up and down. “Y’should say ‘ello. Am sure they’d lek t’ see ye.”
Johnny was dense but he wasn’t stupid. He knew Simon could get anyone he wanted, he had the looks to make just about anyone, including Johnny himself, melt. If only Simon had the confidence to actually talk to anyone. 
When Simon didn’t budge, Johnny decided to push further. “Aye wis think’n, LT,” he started. “I might ask ‘em oot fer coffee.” Johnny shrugged as he watched Simon tense. 
Simon shoved past Johnny, making his way to the common area again. Leaving Johnny grinning at his door.
---
“Coffee.”
Simon’s gruff voice startles you. You hadn’t seen him enter the room, much less hear him walk up behind where you were sitting on the couch. 
You blink those pretty eyes up at him. “What?”
“With me.” He doesn’t seem to be asking by his tone, but his eyes are almost pleading. 
“Uh.. sure,” you say, unable to keep the smile from your lips. 
The tension in Simon’s shoulders melted away. If he had a tail, it would be wagging.
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joelsgreys · 3 months
Text
softness
Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader
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summary: Joel’s a little unsure of doing skin to skin with his newborn daughter.
warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. established relationship. (TW) PREGNANCY. mentions of premature birth, minor descriptions of childbirth, mentions of birth weight, it is implied that reader is breastfeeding her baby, semi accurate medical journal research, girldad! Joel, mentions of scars (Joel), mentions of insecurities and anxieties, if i missed anything, please let me know! NO MENTION OF READER’S AGE. NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER. no physical description of child except for her hair color/type. very minimal editing.
word count: 3.5k
a/n: i had this outline sitting in my drafts and i decided to finally just write it out and post it. it ain’t much, but it’s honest work. it is part of the safe and sound universe.
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She’d made her entrance into the world early.
About four or five weeks, the commune’s doctor thinks.
Without ultrasounds, it’d been a guessing game.
And a fucking terrifying guessing game at that.
For several months, all you could do was hope.
Hope for a smooth pregnancy.
Hope for a safe labor and delivery.
Hope for a strong, healthy baby.
When you went into labor earlier than the doctor had predicted you would, all of your hopes shattered, the pieces falling around you like shards of broken glass you couldn’t put back together even if you tried.
“No! No, it’s too soon! It’s too fucking soon!” you’d cried out, the sheer panic setting in and seeping into your bones as a warm, clear liquid dripped down the insides of your legs and pooled around your bare feet. You had been in the kitchen making Ellie breakfast and packing her lunch for school—one second you’re standing there in front of the food pantry debating with yourself on what vegetable to throw into the kid’s lunch bag with her sandwich and the next you’re calling out for help as an intense pressure nestled itself between your hips. It wasn’t until you heard a faint popping sound and then felt the gush of fluid between your thighs that you’d realized what was happening. An unmistakable first sign of labor, you’d experienced your water breaking. “This can’t be happening, it’s not time yet!”
Joel, who by some stroke of sheer stupid luck had the morning off from patrol duty, instructed Ellie to run upstairs and gather some clean clothes along with a pair of boots and the warmest coat you owned that still fit. November had brought along the first snowfall of the season—the frigid temperatures outside were anything but kind and the clinic was on the opposite side of the commune, a fifteen minute walk he wished you didn’t have to make in your condition. “I know this is real fuckin’ scary darlin’ but y’need to stay calm. I need you to stay as calm as possible. Y’think that you can do that for me, sweetheart?”
He’d been just as terrified, but he masked it well.
On the outside, he kept a calm, collected composure for your sake and for Ellie’s too, shoved aside his own fears so he could be the support you both needed, act as the glue that held yours and his little family unit together should anything were to happen. But on the inside, he was scared shitless, to say the least. He couldn’t be certain he would have the strength to hold himself together if something went wrong, if he lost you—or his unborn child.
Admittedly, it had taken him a few months to come to terms with the fact that he was going to be a father again at this stage in his life. The thought of him changing diapers at his age was one he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around—but the moment he felt that first little flutter of movement one night as you lay curled up against his side fast asleep, something shifted. That night, he had stayed wide awake, his large hand splayed over your belly in hopes he would feel that little flutter again.
“Joel, I’m really fucking scared. What if it’s too early—”
“Baby, look at me.” He reached up and gently took your chin, holding it between his thumb and index finger as he coaxed your gaze to meet his own. “S’gonna be okay,” he’d assured you, softly. “If this is happenin’ now, it’s because she’s ready, alright?”
For a split second, that panic had ceased.
“She?”
Confused, Joel’s brow furrowed. “Huh?”
“You just referred to the baby as a she, Joel.”
“I did?”
“Yeah—just now.” You’d stared at him with curiosity and took a step back, cradling your belly in both of your hands. “Do you think we’re having a girl?”
Sheepishly, he had shaken his head at you.
“No, I just—m’sorry. I ain’t all too sure why I said that.”
He truly, honestly hadn’t.
It’d slipped before he could even think about it.
But his accidental slip had been right.
After thirteen hours of grueling labor in Jackson’s small clinic, you’d given birth to a little girl, the sound of her loud wailing filling the whole room like a sweet melody eliciting a sob of joy from you and a shaky sigh of relief from Joel.
“Holy shit, she’s here! She’s actually fucking here,” Ellie breathed, her eyes going wide. Her arms were still wrapped around one of your legs—despite you warning the teenager about what she would see, it hadn’t stopped her from volunteering her assistance in the childbirth process. She watched on in a mix of both fascination and disgust as Dr. Porter, a woman in her sixties who served as Jackson’s sole physician, lifted the infant and immediately placed her onto your bare chest to clean her off. “This has gotta be the grossest, most amazing fucking thing I have ever fucking seen in my life.” Gently, she set your leg down onto the bed before walking around it to stand beside Joel. His hand was stroking your hair, his dark eyes trained on his crying newborn daughter. It was the perfect moment for Ellie to run her mouth and tease, “You’re not gonna cry, are you, Joel? I’d think you’re a lot fucking tougher than that, old man.”
“Shut up,” he’d muttered under his breath, putting an arm around her and pulling her against his side. He almost couldn’t believe this was now his life—a life he would have never even known if he hadn’t flinched twenty years ago when he had pulled the trigger.
Though she’d been born a few weeks prematurely, Rosemary Miller was deemed to be healthy—a tad underweight, but nothing to be worried about just yet, according to Jackie, the commune’s nurse. At about four pounds, eleven ounces, Rosemary was the tiniest thing you’d ever seen and somehow even tinier when Joel would cradle her in the palms of his large hands. Despite the fact that you’d been reassured that the baby’s low birth weight was nothing to be alarmed about, you and Joel had been advised it was best if you didn’t take her home until she gained a few more ounces and tipped the a scale at what the books state is a normal birth weight of five pounds, eight ounces.
“We just would feel better if she were here at the clinic where we can closely monitor her weight,” Jackie had said upon seeing the crestfallen look on your face. “Besides, you tore a little and you need time to heal as well, you know.”
Left with very little choice, you’d agreed to it.
“I’m losing it,” you say with an exasperated sigh as you stare up at the drab, gray ceiling. It’s been three days since you had given birth and all you want to do is take your daughter home. In an effort to lift your spirits, Maria had tried to warm the place up and make it feel more comfortable for you. She had swapped out the rough, scratchy bedsheet the clinic provided for you with a soft, knitted blanket she had made herself. She also took it upon herself to pack you a bag with your own clothes, a couple of books to read, and your favorite polaroids of Joel and Ellie. While it had been incredibly sweet of her to do for you, you still wanted out of that clinic sooner rather than later. “I miss our house. I miss our bed. I miss our kid.”
Joel, who’s sitting in an old, worn leather armchair tucked over in a corner of your room next to the frosted window, raises an eyebrow at you and then juts his chin towards Rosemary, who is swaddled up and sleeping soundly in the plastic bassinet beside your bed.
“Our kid’s right there, darlin’.”
You lift your head off your pillow and glare at him.
“I’m talking about Ellie, Joel.”
He chuckles and leans forward in his chair. Next to him sits a brown stuffed bunny rabbit—Ellie had traded a precious comic book for it and gifted it to the baby the same afternoon she was born. 
“She’s been comin’ to visit every day after school.”
“It’s not the same,” you pout, shaking your head.
Joel sighs and glances at the cot that he had been sleeping on for the last few days—truth be told, he misses the house too. His back certainly misses the bed. “It ain’t the same,” he agrees, tiredly. His face is worn with exhaustion. Despite you insisting that he go home and get some proper rest, he’s too stubborn to listen and only leaves the clinic to take a shower and change his clothes—and to check on Ellie, who’s got a bad habit of not doing her homework unless you or Joel nag her to get it done. “M’real sorry, darlin’. But you heard what they said. Baby’s gotta gain a little more weight before we can take her home.”
Even from where he’s sitting, he can see your eyes glaze over with tears of frustration. Since the baby was born, you’ve been very sensitive, more so than when you’d been pregnant—something he didn’t think was even possible.
“If she keeps on eatin’ the way she’s eatin’ we’ll be home by the end of the week,” Joel adds in an effort to cheer you up. “Besides, you need to heal before we make that long walk across town and back to the house, sweetheart. S’not like I can just pull up the fuckin’ minivan and drive you girls home like back in the day, y’know?”
You wrinkle your nose at him. “Ew, Joel. We would not have a fucking minivan.” Dabbing at your eyes with the back of your hand, you can’t help but laugh at the thought of Joel Miller behind the wheel of one of those things. Then, you realize how endearing it would be to watch as he’s loading up Rosemary’s car seat into the van, the muscles of his broad back flexing underneath his shirt as he pulled on the straps to make sure it was safe and secure. You’d climb into the backseat with her and on the way home, you would ask Joel to swing through the nearest burger joint drive through because you’re fucking starving and in need of a proper meal after being subjected to boring, bland hospital food. You shoot him a small smile. “On second thought, that doesn’t sound all that bad. Maybe we would.”
Suddenly, there’s a light knock at the door.
“Come in,” you call, careful not to be too loud.
Dr. Porter walks into the room.
She had been a primary care physician prior to the world ending, according to Maria, who a couple of months ago had given birth to her son while under Dr. Porter’s care. Maria had assured you that, even though the woman never trained in obstetrics, she always went above and beyond for all the mothers to be in the commune. She dedicated her spare time to studying, lost herself in medical books she found on the shelves of the town’s library—kind of like the one that’s currently tucked underneath her arm.
“Hi there mama,” she greets, her eyes shining brightly behind her coke-bottle glasses. Wearing jeans and a sweater, she doesn’t quite look the part—maybe she’d worn a white coat once in her life, but now it was only the old, silver metal stethoscope she had draped around her neck that gave her profession away. “How are you feeling this morning?”
“I’m okay,” you say with a shrug. “Can’t complain.”
Over in his corner, Joel can’t help but snort.
Ignoring him, you add, “Bleeding’s slowing down.”
“Good, that’s good,” Dr. Porter tells you. “And how about this sweet little girl?” She smiles and makes her way over to the bassinet, keeping her voice low. “She eating well?”
“She is. Her last feed was about two hours ago.”
“How’s she sleeping?”
“Like a rock.”
“And you’ve been doing skin to skin as well?”
You nod. “Yes, before and after her feedings.”
“That’s perfect.” Dr. Porter beams at you with pride. “Keep it up and do it as often as possible. There are a ton of benefits of doing skin to skin with her. It’s one of the most incredible things that a mother can do for her baby. Actually—” She pauses for a moment and pulls the book out from under her arm. “I have been doing a bit of research and as it turns out, there are also benefits if dad does skin to skin with baby as well.”
Joel stiffens slightly in his chair. “S’cuse me?”
“I found this book in the library. It talks about all of the benefits of fathers doing skin to skin with their newborn. It was written some time in the nineties and studies were still being conducted, but I really believe they were onto something.” She hands you the book. “For being preterm, Rosemary’s healthy, but it doesn’t do any harm to try whatever you can to make sure that she builds up that immune system and stays healthy, especially now that winter’s here.” Flashing you a smile, she informs you, “I went ahead and folded the pages for you and made some notes. There’s a few benefits in it for Joel as well. Could be worth a try.”
After telling you she’ll be back in a couple hours to check on you and to weigh the baby, Dr. Porter excuses herself from your room, quietly closing the door behind her.
Curiously, you open the book to the first page that she’d folded for you and start reading the first passage out loud.
“Ongoing studies have found skin to skin between father and child have similar benefits to those that come from skin to skin between mother and child. It regulates the baby's body temperature, blood sugar, and stress levels.” You pause and look over at Joel, who appears thoroughly unimpressed. “It also helps to regulate the baby’s heart rate and breathing rate. Joel, this is incredible! I think you should—”
“No.”
Joel winces. He doesn’t mean to sound so curt.
Your face falls. “Why not?”
“That’s for mothers,” he grumbles. “Y’know, for feedin’ the baby.”
“It’s for much more than just that.” You shake your head and flip over to the next page, scanning both the text as well as Dr. Porter’s notes. “It says here that it also helps the baby pick up their father’s natural scent and promotes bonding.”
“Sweetheart, I can bond with her just fine with my fuckin’ shirt on, there ain’t no need for me to—what in the world are you doin’?” Perturbed, Joel watches you as you take a handful of your blanket, throwing it off yourself. He jumps up to his feet the second he realizes that you’re about to get out of bed. “Don’t—”
“Oh relax, Joel. I should be moving more anyway,” you say, wincing as you sit up and swing both legs over the side of the bed. It isn’t so much pain as it is discomfort—everything had been shoved up and out of place for months, after all. As soon as you stand, Joel’s there at your side, one hand on your arm and the other on your back, trying to guide you back onto the bed. You lightly swat him away with your hand. “Joel, stop fussing over me! I’m fine!”
“Baby, y’need to lie down right now—”
“Take off your shirt.”
His hands fall away from you and his eyes widen.
“What?”
“Take off your shirt and go sit down in the chair.”
The blood drains from his face and he pales. 
It’s not that Joel doesn’t want to do it. He does.
He’ll do anything if it’s for his daughter’s benefit.
Still.
The idea of laying his innocent little baby girl on him without his shirt on—it’s uncomfortable. His chest and stomach are littered with several scars. Rough, raised patches of skin that serve as reminders of a brutal past he doesn’t want her finding out about, not for as long as he can fucking help it.
Rosemary deserves to be wrapped up in softness.
The softness of your smooth, blemish free skin.
The softness of the blankets you’d knitted for her.
The softness of the stuffed bunny Ellie had given her.
Joel?
He isn’t soft.
Nothing about him is soft.
Even holding her in his hands for the first time had been something of a battle. Hands that once snapped necks and slit throats didn’t deserve to hold something so pure and innocent.
“This sounds really promising, Joel.” Slowly, you make your way over to the plastic bassinet, ignoring the dull ache between your thighs. With your back to him, you carefully begin to unswaddle the baby. You try not to wake her as you peel off her warm, knitted onesie and matching socks, leaving her in nothing but her teeny, tiny cloth diaper. Gingerly, you pick her up and turn around to face him. “If Dr. Porter thinks we should try it, then it’s for a good reason, don’t you think so?”
Joel swallows harshly.
“What is it?”
“S’just that I—I’ve got scars everywhere, y’know?”
Your expression instantly softens for him. “Joel, you’re her daddy,” you remind him, gently. “She’s not going to care about things like that.” Pausing, it suddenly occurs to you that it’s not just about his scars. It’s about something else, something that runs so much deeper for Joel. He’d done what he had done in order to survive, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t live with the shame—the guilt and the regret. Rosemary begins to fuss awake and you lightly bounce her in your arms as you assure him, “She isn’t going to care about your past or what you’ve done. Her love for you is going to be as unconditional as yours is for her. She’s going to love you no matter what, Joel. I can promise you that.”
His jaw clenches and his lips press into a tight line.
Rosemary starts to cry—she’s cold, no doubt.
The old heater in the clinic hardly runs.
And when it does, it breaks down.
“Joel, please,” you beg over her wails. “Just try it? For me? For her?”
Sighing in defeat, Joel shrugs out of his jacket and he tosses it aside. With trembling fingers, he begins to unbutton his green flannel shirt—his long sleeved thermal henley comes off next and then he takes off the cotton t-shirt he wears underneath for an added layer of warmth during the winter season. As he stands there shirtless, he shivers and his flesh erupts with goosebumps. “Wait,” he mutters as he watches you take a step forward. He drags the armchair away from the window. He then sits down, his heart racing and the anxiety flaring as he gives you a subtle nod of his head. “Okay.”
You walk over to him and place her on his bare chest.
The second he feels Rosie’s soft skin on his, there’s a shift.
It’s similar to the one he felt when he first felt her move in your belly.
He calms and his heart slows—his nerves dissipate. 
And Rosemary stops crying.
She scrunches, curls up on his chest, and yawns.
Grimacing, you lean over and pick up his flannel shirt. “Here,” you say, draping it over them as a makeshift blanket. “How’s that feel?”
“Think she likes it, darlin’,” Joel murmurs, his fingers delicately brushing over her soft tufts of dark brown hair. His touch causes the newborn’s lip to curl and he catches a glimpse of the prominent dimple in her left cheek—the same dimple Sarah had inherited from him, Rosemary had inherited too. There’s a dull ache in his chest, but somehow, he still smiles as she peers up at him with sleepy eyes. “Hi, Rosie Posie. S’me, babygirl. Your daddy.”
Rolling your lip between your teeth, you stifle a giggle.
“What?” he asks, arching an eyebrow at you.
“She’s not the only one who seems to like it.”
Joel chuckles, admitting, “S’pretty relaxin’.” He presses his nose into his daughter’s curls and inhales deeply, relishing in the warm, sweet milky scent of her. After a minute, his smile falters slightly. “Baby?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you really believe it?”
Your brow furrows. “Believe what?”
“That she’s gonna love me no matter what.”
“Of course I do.”
“How can you be so sure ‘bout it?”
Carefully, you perch yourself on the arm of the chair and press a gentle kiss against his right temple, your lips brushing over his scar. “Because I just am, Joel.”
Somehow, he believes it—he believes you.
Joel tilts his head back, puckering his lips.
Grinning, you give him a chaste kiss before standing. “I’m going to see if I can get a nap in before her next feed,” you tell him, padding back over to the bed. “Do you think you’ll be okay with her for a while, just the two of you?”
“I think we’ll be just fine,” he murmurs, gingerly stroking Rosemary’s silky cheek with his finger. “Yeah. We’ll be just fine, won’t we, babygirl?”
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divider credit to @saradika-graphics 🤎
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