#husband and wife spice
Text
Green
Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x F. Reader, Ben and daughter!OC
Summary: Ben spends the day alone with his daughter, to varying degrees of success. When you get home, it prompts a serious conversation.
AN: Another one-shot for the BMD-verse, set sometime after "Until Morning" (you'll see). This can be read as standalone as well!
Word Count: 2,500
Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Father and daughter fluff, followed by husband and wife spice.~
Read more of the BMD-verse! ⤵️
💚 Break Me Down Masterlist
Father and daughter were glaring at one another, gazes locked.
Green against green.
“Young lady, I’m telling you right now. I’m not gonna tolerate any more of your little attitude,” said Ben. “If you want to try me, be my guest.”
He held the ravioli poised on a pink plastic spoon. His daughter Lila sat in her highchair in the kitchen, boldly refusing any more of her lunch.
Her stubborn face reminded him entirely too much of you. But he needed her to eat. He wouldn’t have it said when you came home that he couldn’t feed a damn two-year-old.
He huffed. “Work with me here. Just a couple more bites.”
Lila made a shrill sound of refusal when the spoon came near her face. He knew she could use a spoon just fine. She was being difficult on purpose.
To demonstrate her resolve, she slapped at the ravioli with a chubby little hand, and it ended up splashing back into the bowl. A bit of red sauce splattered onto Ben’s cheek, with a pinch of it hitting his eye.
He blinked in annoyance. “Delilah Marie, I swear to Christ—”
She’s just a baby, a voice that sounded a lot like you infiltrated his mind. It still didn’t take away his aggravation.
“No!” Lila insisted. It was her favorite word, right behind Bluey.
She then pushed the bowl right off the highchair. It spilled ravioli and pasta sauce all over the floor in spectacular fashion. Ben was sitting in his own chair by the dining table, where he moved his feet back at the last moment. She almost got his Italian loafers.
“You gotta be f…” It took every scrap of patience within him to hold his tongue…and breathe calmly through his nose. He didn’t want to reward this destructive, disrespectful behavior, but he also knew that he needed his daughter to eat.
“Want some applesauce?” he said, as a peace offering.
Lila’s face scrunched.
“No applesauce, huh?” Ben muttered. He glanced at the mess across the highchair and the formerly white tile on the floor. “Your mother’s gonna have a conniption.”
“Mommy?” Lila asked. “Mommy’s home?”
“No, she’s not here right now,” Ben replied. “She’ll be home later.”
Lila seemed to understand, because that’s when she got upset again. Her red-stained finger drew a shapeless form in the sauce as she pouted. At least she wasn’t crying.
Ben sighed, once again, and stroked her cheek with his thumb.
Fuck it.
“You want some ice cream?” he bribed.
Her sadness dissipated at the thought; she smiled brightly and nodded. “Yeah!”
“Yeah, I thought so,” he grumbled.
After a scoop of strawberry ice cream for each of them (she liked it because it was pink), Ben wrangled her up out of the highchair and declared, bath time.
He did fine with the bathing process. He’d helped you with this before, and so he knew what to do in order to wash the sauce off her face, hands, and even her hair. It was what came after the bath that remained a problem.
Lila was stubborn beyond belief, even before she could articulate what it was about the soft green onesie that she didn’t like. No, she wasn’t satisfied until Ben pulled out the yellow Starlight themed pajamas. Probably because they had “Auntie Annie’s” face all over them.
He rolled his eyes, but this wasn’t a hill he needed to die on. He dressed Lila and tried to tuck her into bed for her afternoon nap. The problem was, she refused to lie still in the crib.
Instead, she was bouncing on the balls of her feet, using the edge of the crib for balance. He’d be impressed, if she wasn’t trying to climb out and give him a small heart attack.
He grabbed her and gathered her against his chest. Despite the super strength you’d temporarily displayed off and on throughout your pregnancy, Lila’s powers were latent at the moment. Dr. Baker seemed to think Lila would start to display them once she got old enough. Like Ryan, who hadn’t started growing into his powers until around 10 years old.
So for now, Lila was a mostly normal two-year-old who could still get hurt.
Ben frowned. “This is the time you usually go down. Why do you have so much energy?”
She just giggled at him and put both hands on his face, over his eyes.
“Daddy, guess who?”
He sighed, but couldn’t help smiling. As usual, he indulged her.
“Could it be my baby girl?”
He waited until her hands came away from his eyes, and he opened them wide.
“There she is!”
She squealed and giggled and grabbed his hair when he kissed her cheek. In the comfort of his own home, he could afford to be this openly affectionate.
Aw shit, he thought, as something occured to him.
He finally realized why she was so fucking hyper. Maybe it had something to do with the giant scoop of ice cream she’d had for lunch.
Goddamn it. Ben sighed and unwrapped her arm from around his head.
“Okay, let’s watch some TV.”
Lila didn’t seem all that interested in watching anything, or even playing with her toys. She mainly wanted to jump on Ben’s stomach while he was trying to relax on the couch. He put on a football game you taped for him. Or recorded, as you'd said.
“All right, enough. Your old man’s trying to watch the game,” Ben said, bringing Lila down to sit in lap.
That lasted for about two seconds. Thereafter, she was climbing up his chest and trying to smother him with her little hands.
He took her hand from his nose so he could at least breathe in peace.
“Where’s Mommy?” Lila asked, as she sat on his shoulder and beat a little fist on the top of his head.
“She’s with your aunt,” Ben replied. “Well, not your real one, the fake one.”
Lila made a sound of confusion. Realizing that she didn’t know what the hell he meant, he rephrased.
“She’s with your Aunt Annie. They’ll be back soon,” he said.
He didn’t mind you wanting a day out to yourself. What he minded was the attitude you’d struck when he suggested dropping Lila off with Louisa, your actual sister.
“What, you can’t handle her alone for one day?” you’d asked.
His pride hadn’t allowed him to say no to that.
So here he was, with a wily toddler who was doing her damndest to suffocate him. Better attempts than this had failed, but it was still annoying while he was trying to watch the game.
Somehow, he managed to tune it out while he watched the ref make a bad call.
“What was that?! You gotta be kidding me!” Ben said, holding Lila to his chest even as he pointed and shouted at the TV. “Son of a bitch. What a pussy call that was.”
“Bish, bish, bish,” Lila said, making a game out of the word. It called Ben’s attention.
He forgot about the game for a moment when he looked down at her. His eyes widened a fraction, even as a smile pulled at his lips.
“What’d you just say?”
“Bishhhhhh,” Lila repeated. “Somvabishhhh.” Her lips squished like a fish. And then she giggled, like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard.
“Aw, fuck,” Ben uttered.
And he pressed his lips together with ever widening eyes at what he’d just said.
Lila grinned. “Fack!”
“Uhh, no. No. Don’t say that,” he said, trying to sound stern. Inside, he was trying not to laugh. He didn't really give a shit what she said, but you were particular about the kid not inheriting his vocabulary.
In fact, he was pretty sure you were going to go nuclear for this one.
“Why?” Lila asked.
“Because it’s uh…a bad word,” Ben replied, even though he wanted to roll his eyes at himself. This was what he’d become. A suburban dad.
"And it's not ladylike," he added.
“Fackkkk,” Lila giggled some more.
Christ on a cross. Ben bit the inside of lip hard to stop himself from laughing.
“Whatever. Just don’t say it around your mom,” he relented. He brushed his fingers through her soft brown hair. She preened at the attention, like the little showboat she was.
“Daddyyyy…” Lila wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled as deeply into him as she could, like a koala clinging to a shaking branch.
Ben sighed and rubbed a hand up and down her back as he cradled her against him.
These were the moments he didn’t mind. In fact, these were the moments he did his best to remember. They helped block out the older, darker ones that this kid would never know.
Ben woke to the shutter of a camera going off.
He blinked his bleary eyes open to find you standing there with a highly amused smile on your face, and your phone poised in your hand.
He groaned, but he soon realized that Lila was sleeping in his arms, on his chest. You leaned down and rested a hand on her back. You also greeted him with a kiss to his temple.
“Long day?” you teased quietly.
Ben gave you a deadpan look, one that had you straining to taper down your giggles. Though he drew you closer by your hip and squeezed the soft flesh over your white sundress. He took you in with a lazy once-over.
You looked good. Sexy as hell, really. Your face was glowing and relaxed, and he liked the shade of red you’d done on your nails.
“You have a good time?” he asked.
“Yeah,” you replied, massaging his shoulder. Though you arched a brow. “There’s a catastrophe in the kitchen.”
Ben blinked.
Fuck. He forgot about that.
“Yep,” he said, giving you a teasing smirk of his own. “Right on time for you, baby.”
You chuckled, though your eyes narrowed in warning. “Yeah, right.”
You still helped him put Lila down in the nursery for the rest of her nap. She yawned and turned over onto her back. You pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, though you had to smile when it accidentally left the red mark of your lipstick behind.
You bit your lip and gently rubbed it off without waking her up. (An amazing damn feat, as far as you were concerned.)
Ben laid a heavy hand on your back, prompting you to straighten up and turn into his waiting embrace.
His lips curved as he looked down at you. “Hey.”
You laughed quietly. “Hey, yourself.”
Your hands glided up his chest, and further still to hold his face. You brought him down to kiss you, with your fingers slipping into his hair, and your nails dragging along his scalp. He hummed into your mouth.
“Miss me?” you teased.
Ben huffed. As usual though, his answer was in his actions. He held you close for a moment, just to feel you there.
Your arms slipped around his, clinging to his shoulders as you rested against him. This was your safe, comfortable place where you always felt at home.
But, you couldn’t help but break the spell.
“Come on. Clean up on aisle 12,” you quipped, reaching around to smack his ass.
Ben rolled his eyes, but when you pulled away from him, he followed you into the kitchen.
“You know, I had a lot going on. Your kid is a fucking menace,” he said. “Like a bull in a China shop.”
You scoffed. “She’s only my kid when she gives you a hard time. Where do you think she gets it from?”
“You,” he retorted.
You had to laugh at that one. It still didn’t get him out of helping you clean the kitchen from top to bottom.
After a long shower, waking an errant child from her nap, dinner, and a joint effort of getting Lila to sleep for the night, Ben joined you in bed wearing just his usual sweatpants.
You’d opted for some black satin, he noticed.
Good, he thought, for the night to come. You’d spent the whole day getting massaged and moisturized and whatever else women did on a day out.
When he rolled onto his side, you greeted him with a smile and a hand running up his arm, already pulling him toward you. His hand glided along your bare thigh as you hooked it over his hip.
“I need to tell you something, but you’ve gotta promise not to say anything to anyone,” you whispered in the small space between his face and yours, and you tapped his chin.
Ben raised a brow and squeezed your thigh. Whatever it was, couldn’t it wait until long after he’d undressed you?
“What?” he asked.
“Annie’s pregnant!” you said with a wide smile. “Six weeks. She just told me today.”
Ben blinked at that one. “Is it Hughie’s kid?”
“Wha…of course, it is!”
“Wow. Guess he had it in him after all,” Ben remarked. “Who woulda thought.”
You shook your head, but his grin made you laugh.
“You’re ridiculous,” you said, through your remaining giggles, though you leaned forward and stole a kiss. It led Ben to want more, and more of you.
He started to ply you with slow, lazy kisses that grew deeper, becoming all-consuming as his tongue warred against yours. His hands dove under the satin covering your body, and his thumbs brushed the sides of your breasts.
“Maybe it’s time we go for number two,” he said.
You uttered another incredulous laugh, gripped a fist in his hair and tugged. “Excuse me?”
“You fucking heard me,” Ben said. He rolled you onto your back and pinned you there. “Ain’t no way we’re stopping at one. Lila needs a brother.”
“You can’t even handle one,” you teased. Your hands slid up his arms and then down his chest. “Baby, we can talk about having more kids, but—”
“And? We’re talking now,” he said. He dipped his head to start kissing a hot, wet line down your neck. It made your breath falter and your back start to arch. Your hips shifted against his, trying to find friction. You could feel his length hardening against your thigh.
“Ben,” you warned, and implored, but the graze of his teeth on your neck made you shudder.
Your grip on his arms tightened. “Please…”
“Please what?” he smirked against your skin. His hips rocked against your heated core.
This conversation was going into a no man’s land very fast.
You literally took matters into your own hands…by reaching down and grasping your husband’s cock through his sweatpants. You gave him a demanding squeeze.
His breath hitched. Ben paused, unlatching from your neck, and turning his lips toward your cheek.
“I’m listening,” he said, in a gritted voice. You smirked.
“We can, and we will talk about this,” you promised. “Just not when you’re about to be balls-deep inside me.”
You were back on birth control anyway (the pill this time).
Ben chuckled. His hand reached up and smoothed your hair away from your forehead.
“Fine,” he conceded. A smirk grew across his face. “But we can still practice.”
A giggle fell from your lips, just before he claimed them once again.
AN: A little callback to the BMD Epilogue at the end there. 😂
What did you think about the father/daughter time? And do you think Ben won against either of the ladies in his life? 🤣
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#Green#soldier boy x reader#soldier boy#Dad!Ben#new dad#father daughter feels#husband and wife spice#daughter OC#Soldier Boy imagine#BMD verse#the boys#soldier boy/ben#soldier boy x female reader#soldier boy x you#Break Me Down verse#zepskies writes
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#9 time Grammy loser#but met one of the spice girl#that’s a win 🤣#Matt Helders#Grammys 2024#this is like the very first time they are acknowledging awards#it was expected that they wouldn’t win but mannn Matt would have actually gone up to receive it like he was genuinely there 🙃#also the fact that Amanda and him are just mostly referring to the other as my husband/wife is sweet
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the strongest (gojo x wife! reader)
gojo can't help but feel annoyed that he feels concern for the wife he swears he doesn't care for.
warnings: arranged marriage au, gojo refers to you as his wife, enemies to lovers (?), gojo tells you to lift up your top, slight angst, he's really bad at feelings okay, image from loving yamada-kun at lv999 (part of gojo’s wife series)
The lines of intrigue and fear are often blurred. It explains why we admire fire from afar, careful not to get too close in hopes of not getting burned. It explains why we find peace in parts of the ocean and tense up in deeper parts. It also explains why Gojo Satoru seeks your presence yet pushes you away the moment he finds himself feeling something other than indifference or vexation–it’s never hatred though. The strongest can’t envision himself ever hating his wife and it scares him.
He’s not sure that can be said about you. Gojo wouldn’t be surprised if you grew to hate him after the treatment you put up with.
Your marriage is what you call a “marriage of convenience” and Gojo made sure you remembered that. He wasn’t always so distant with you. Back then, you might’ve considered him a friend but time did its bidding and you two drifted apart, your time together merely a memory. Now fast forward a few years and you were wedded to him, taking up his surname and sleeping in the same house as him–in separate rooms of course.
Your steps on the wooden floors were silent as you intended not to make a single noise at such a late hour. You sighed, feeling the weight of your heavy shoulders drag you down.
Gojo might be considered cruel to you but the elders were on a different level. They knew this mission would be too much for you yet they sent you on it as punishment for speaking your mind the last time everyone gathered.
At that time, your husband had an unfamiliar gleam in your eyes as you voiced your thoughts on the matter of Itadori. He’s a nice kid, you thought when you first saw the pink-haired boy.
Taking away his youth wouldn’t be fair. After all, he didn’t choose to have the Ryomen Sukuna use him as a vessel. Yet, sentiment doesn’t do well with the higher ups and they made sure you knew your place with the mission they sent you on.
You inhaled sharply, wincing as you felt the bruise on your rib with your palm. There was blood soaking your tights, little cuts littering your legs. You’re so tired you can’t find it in yourself to even eat. Then again, you needed to be in your best condition tomorrow since another mission was sent out of you and specifically you. Those in power always make sure it’s clear that they are in power. Your voice of opinion meant nothing to their beliefs in tradition or what you liked to call, “backward thinking.” That’s one thing you and your husband could agree on.
“Ow,” you wince for the nth time as you open the fridge, scanning the items. Mochi. Ice-cream. Leftover cake. Perhaps it would’ve been wiser to go grocery shopping a day prior so you could have a proper meal. This was the kind of stuff Gojo could live on but you couldn’t. Closing the fridge, you opt for instant ramen instead. Not the best choice in regards to healthiness but cracking an egg in there meant more protein and it also minimized the spice levels.
You’re halfway in between preparing the noodles when you feel a presence right beside you and soft breathing besides your ears. “You’re home,” your ‘husband’ mumbles, his eyes half-lidded from just having woken up.
“God! Satoru!” You gasp, flinching away from and only realizing how close he was. For someone who claimed he wasn’t interested in you, he didn’t know what personal space was. “How did you know I was home?”
“Your cursed energy leaked in,” he shrugs his shoulders, peering down at you without the constraints of his blindfold or shades. You gulp as his eyes flit up and down your appearance, causing your insides to tense up in a sudden wave of self-consciousness. Being scrutinized by the six-eyes himself wasn’t much fun and you’re suddenly aware of the fact that your hair is disheveled and your face is sweaty from just having come home from a grueling mission.
You don’t even notice the glint of rage that crosses his hues before he masks it. “Who did this to you?”
“Huh?” You blink, coming to your senses that your body was bloodied up and battered from having fought a curse. “Oh it was just a mission. It’s normal to be hurt on missions.”
Gojo’s been living with you for nearly half a year now and he knows you’re more than competent when it comes to shaman duties (not that he’d ever tell you). He knows you return home by 7 p.m.., and never at hours well past midnight. He knows that you usually only get injuries on your back because you get careless at times. But now, he sees cuts everywhere and he’s not sure if you’re running on adrenaline or if you’re too tired to notice.
His eyes glance at the way you press a palm on your rib, subconsciously squeezing the area as if hiding it from him. “Let me see.”
Your surprise is immediate and he would’ve felt a strange fluttering in his stomach if not for this concern he was experiencing for you. You smile. “See what?”
“Your injury. Let me see it,” he says again, pressing on the hand you hold close to your ribs, narrowing his eyes as you hiss in pain. “Don’t be stubborn (Name).”
His voice is different from the cheery one he often uses and you’re left leaning further into the kitchen counter, acutely aware of the fact that his taller frame wasn’t allowing you to escape. His eyes widen the slightest once he gets a glimpse of your flustered expression as you peer up at him and he only realizes what he was asking from you. Part of him tells him to ignore this and pretend his concern for you was brief. Yet, part of him screams at him that he was your husband, so he should feel the right to be worried–even if he was months late.
He sighs, tilting his head. “I’m just going to look. I promise I won’t do anything else,” his voice is oddly tender as he speaks to you, a contrast to the usual nonchalance you’re used to.
You gulp and let out a shaky sigh, giving in when your fingers reach to pull your top up for him to see the bare skin that you can’t even say is spotless or void of marks. Multiple wounds litter your skin–some faded, some new. You’re scared his gaze would show some signs of judgment or disgust but you’re left bemused when you see how his eyebrows furrow and his lips purse. For a second, you allow yourself to be deluded by the fact that he might be worried but you quickly abandon that thought, averting your eyes from him.
You can see how he pieces everything together. From the way you rebelled against the elders and how they saw it as a means to punish you. He does it so quickly that you can only blink when his blank expression morphs into something different. You almost feel relieved from the fact that his expression of pure anger wasn’t directed at you and rather those who sent you on the mission.
It’s almost natural how he slides the top further up, mapping the extent of the bruise with his eyes. His hands are warm and calloused. They’re also gentle, tracing the bruise carefully to not hurt you. “I’ll kill those old bastards,” he chuckles with a sneer. “They have some nerve letting my wife take this mission without me.”
You frown as you see his anger first-hand. “Satoru–”
“Why didn’t you go to Shoko?” He interrupts, gently holding on your waist to prop you on the counter while he stands in between your legs. He watches you intently, in search of answers.
You feel somewhat embarrassed as his hand still lifts your top up to see the bare skin but don’t comment on it. “I didn’t want to bother her so late at night…”
For the first time since today, you see him flash a genuine smile, as if exasperated by your reasoning. “But you’re fine with bothering me?”
“That’s different!” You say, a pout slowly forming on your lips and he can’t help but feel drawn to you even if he doesn’t want to.
He laughs as you pull your top down with a huff, finding it cute that you were so bashful. “Because I’m your husband?”
You go silent and for a second, Gojo thinks he’s messed up for mentioning that. Despite being your husband, he’s not the greatest at doing his job. He’s not callous or spiteful towards you, instead taking on more of a cold and aloof attitude towards you. Even so, he thinks that hurts just as much as a few insults.
He’s about to pull back but your voice draws him back to you. “Yeah. It’s because you’re my husband.”
Gojo can’t stop himself from glancing at your lips at that single statement. He was today years old when he realized he was a man of simple tastes. All you had to do was tell him that he was your husband and he’d want to kiss you until your lips turned red. He considers himself lucky that you didn’t see that slip-up of his–though he wouldn’t have minded if you did.
He breathes out a sigh, propping his chin atop your head while his fingers draw circles around your hips. “I won’t let them hurt you.”
It’s a vow he swears to keep.
“I know,” you whisper quietly enough for him to hear. “You’re the strongest after all.”
He thinks it’s funny that even as the strongest, he feels weak when he feels your fingers play with his sleeves. No words are said after that and a comfortable silence drifts between you two. It’s like the barrier between the two of you is cracking once you feel his lips press gently against your forehead and you think it's his way of sealing the promise.
Gojo Satoru thinks–or rather he knows that he wouldn’t mind living the rest of his life with you. And he knows that he should fix his behavior around you and stop running away. That way, instead of a kiss to the forehead, he can finally give you one on your lips.
#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#satoru gojo#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#arranged marriage#i'm in my jjk phase bye
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Traditions | Feyd-Rautha x Reader
REQUEST: As Feyd-Rautha's wife-to-be, you have moved to the Harkonnen homeworld to await your wedding. You're doing your best to adhere to their customs, but when a supposed doctor examines your 'purity,' Feyd-Rautha's reaction is anything but calm.
MASTERLIST
Requests are open! This was one of the first I received for Feyd-Rautha, I hope you enjoy!
WARNINGS: SA in a medical setting (not graphic but also more than just implied), canon typical violence (also not graphic)
Harkonnen customs were strange.
Harkonnens were strange.
Everything about Giedi Prime felt alien to you—its black sun, bathing the world in infrared; its barren landscape, polluted and abused by years of unbridled industry; and, perhaps most of all, its nobility, the Baron and his his nephew, Feyd-Rautha.
“A Harkonnen?” You had choked out when your parents informed had you of the decision. You had been in disbelief, as if reality had come to slap you in the face. All you had ever known was your homeworld and the comforts of the family palace, on a planet that was lush and beautiful. Everything you had ever heard of the Harkonnen homeworld was the opposite—harsh and inhospitable, its people even more so. You had resisted the information initially, refusing to believe that your life was changing so suddenly and so dramatically.
But, ever the dutiful daughter, you stood and met the na-Baron when he arrived, openly staring at his appearance while another Harkonnen introduced him. Feyd-Rautha was extremely pale, his skin nearly white, and, like the rest of the delegation from Giedi Prime, he was hairless. He did not even have eyebrows, and as your father welcomed him to your world, you wondered if he was truly hairless, everywhere.
As your thoughts wandered, the na-Baron’s eyes slid to you, meeting yours. You suddenly felt as though you had been caught doing something naughty, the way he looked at you, drinking you in, tilting his head slightly as he appraised you.
“Is the na-Baron pleased with what he sees?” You spoke up in a moment of bravery.
His eyes raked over your body and he smirked, making a rough sound you assumed might be a laugh.
“Oh yes, princess.” His voice was just as harsh as you’d expected. “Very.”
Feyd-Rautha spent a week on your planet, courting you in the ways of your House. He presented you with gifts of refined spice and Harkonnen riches, knives and strangely austere jewelry. He walked with you in the evenings, where you spoke of mundane things, unsure of what you were meant to do in his presence exactly, and he watched you like a hawk hunting a field mouse. When the week was up, you accompanied him back to Giedi Prime to prepare for the wedding, leaving your homeworld behind.
Feyd-Rautha was less well behaved when not surrounded by the members of another House. He was an unsettling, panther-like man, always on the hunt for something to kill…and when you arrived on his planet, you saw that he sometimes killed without abandon, fighting drugged prisoners in a public arena to satisfy his own ego.
You were not sure that you wanted him as your husband—he seemed somewhat disinterested in you, leaving you to the guest chambers you would eventually be moving out of in favor for his bed. Your first week on Giedi Prime was another of courtship, though this time in the ways of his people, and you were honored to witness his fighting prowess in that arena beneath that strange sun. You dined with him and his uncle the Baron Vladimir, a large and unpleasant man, one you could tell your husband-to-be felt no real love towards. Feyd-Rautha simply enjoyed that he would one day take the Baron’s place, and when Vladimir commented on your figure one evening, you saw the way Feyd’s jaw tensed. Perhaps he did want you as his wife, after all.
Another strange Harkonnen custom revealed itself to you toward the end of that week, when a doctor entered your chambers and informed you that your purity was to be inspected.
“My apologies, but…what?” You asked, confused. You had never heard of such a thing. Surely he couldn’t possibly mean what you thought he meant…?
“We must ensure that none other than the na-Baron have had you, milady.” The man explained. You noticed he sported a gray sash around his middle, and you assumed it was some sort of uniform. “It must be guaranteed that you are untouched, and that the heir you provide will be the na-Baron’s and no one else’s.”
You felt your face grow warm with anger and embarrassment. “Is my word not enough?”
“I’m afraid this is tradition, milady.” He stared at you with intense, beady eyes. “The na-Baron was eager to honor the customs of your House. You do not want him to think you are refusing those of House Harkonnen, do you?”
No, you did not. The last thing you wanted was to anger Feyd-Rautha and potentially drive your future husband even further away from you. You did not want to seem rude, nor did you want to cause a fuss…and you had been examined by doctors before, though perhaps not for this exact reason. You could withstand a few moments of awkward discomfort, you reasoned, if it meant avoiding an unhappy marriage.
“You do not have any instruments,” you noted.
The doctor smiled, revealing the black teeth of the Harkonnens. “Medical instruments are not necessary for this, milady. Please, move to the bed so that I may examine you.”
You rose from your place at the simple table in the center of the room, abandoning your half-eaten breakfast. As you turned, you felt the doctor’s eyes watching you a chill prickled the back of your neck. You needed to relax, you told yourself; if you were expected to produce an heir, there would be many more invasive check ups far stranger than this. You had seen your mother pregnant with your younger siblings, and had heard her speaking with the midwives and Bene Gesserit woman who stalked the halls of the palace back home. Perhaps this was how you could ease yourself into all of that.
When you turned to face the doctor once more, you were relieved to see him standing just as you had left him. His smile unsettled you, but then so did most Harkonnen features, you realized as you sat on the edge of the bed.
“Lay back and relax, milady.” He said, approaching you. “This won’t take but a moment.”
-0-
To your surprise, Feyd-Rautha joined you for lunch that day. A servant had been sent ahead to inform you that the na-Baron would be arriving to your chambers shortly, but when he did, you insisted on eating elsewhere. The encounter with the doctor had done more than simply unsettle you—it had rattled your nerves, leaving you feeling angry and confused. Though the man was long gone, you had no desire to remain in that room any longer than you absolutely had to, and lunch could not come early enough.
The na-Baron led you to his own chambers and food was served for you there, at a well-sized table just as austere as the rest of the building’s furniture and decor. He watched as you picked at your food, pushing it around on your plate but hardly eating any, and he took the opportunity to attempt conversation.
“We will be wed soon,” he said.
You wanted to roll your eyes. You were in no mood for small talk, but remembered who exactly you were dealing with and stifled a sigh. “Yes, na-Baron, we will.”
He smirked. “I look forward to the consummation, milady.”
You felt bile rising in your throat. The thought of anyone touching you again at the moment made you sick and angry, and you hated him for his people’s customs.
Feyd-Rautha tilted his head as he looked at you. “Do you not?”
“I am sure it will be everything we hope for and more,” you grumbled, looking down at your plate.
“It is unavoidable,” he growled. “We must produce an heir.”
“And we will!” You snapped, glaring up at him. “And you will be happy to hear that your doctor’s examination went as expected, my lord.”
The venom in your words stunned him almost as much as the words themselves. If Feyd weren’t so busy working through what exactly you had just said, he may have been tempted to bend you over that table just to show you how hard you made him, wedding night be damned…but there were other matters at hand now.
“Doctor?” He asked, eye twitching as his brow furrowed in thought.
“Yes, the one who confirmed that I am, in fact, pure,” you spat, voice laced with pure malice now.
You saw what could only be anger bubbling inside of him as he straightened his shoulders. “How exactly was this achieved?”
“By—by the usual means, I presume,” you said, quickly growing afraid of Feyd-Rautha’s infamous temper should it make an appearance. “He…confirmed that I am…that I have never…”
The na-Baron stood suddenly, knocking in the table in his haste. “Describe him to me.”
“I-I don’t know, he was a doctor!” You stammered. “He looked like every other Harkonnen, I don’t know—“
“What did he wear?”
“A-all black, like everyone here…a sash, a gray sash, around his waist, and he had no instruments—“
“What?” Feyd-Rautha roared, fists slamming down onto the table.
You jumped at the sudden outburst, staring in confusion as he stood. "I apologize if I've upset you, I don't understand why you--"
"Come." he hissed, grabbing your arm roughly and hauling you out of your seat.
You shrieked in surprise, stumbling to keep up as he dragged you out of the room and down the corridor. "Na-Baron, what is the meaning of this?!"
You received no answer. Feyd-Rautha was too angry to speak, shoulders hunched and full of violent tension as he stomped down the halls. Servants and Harkonnen nobles alike scattered upon seeing him, and as you twisted your head to look back at them, you saw them whispering and looking after you with pity on their faces.
"Feyd-Rautha, this is absurd!" you protested.
He came to a halt in front of a door. Though the wait for it to slide open only took a few moments, it felt like agony, and you had nowhere to look aside from the na-Baron's heaving form. You had never seen a person so angry before, so utterly enraged that he was practically incoherent. His silence was frightening, as when the door finally opened, you felt relieved...until he grabbed you once more and brought you inside with him.
The room was full of Harkonnen men, and as they looked to the door in surprise, you realized that you had entered some sort of lounge. You recognized their uniforms as military, and at the sight of their na-Baron, they all immediately stood, saluting him and bowing their heads.
"Which one?" Feyd-Rautha hissed, pulling you to stand at his side.
"What?" you asked, still confused by this entire operation.
"Which man?" he asked, voice strained as if he were holding himself back.
As you looked around at the Harkonnens, whose faces were stoic but whose eyes were frightened, you realized what your almost-husband was asking of you. It was difficult to tell them apart--their pale faces blended into one, their uniforms all nearly identical save for subtle distinctions of rank. Then, an idea; the gray sash you remembered, surely the doctor still wore it? If he were there in the room with you, perhaps you could--
Yes.
There he was.
You recognized his face and your lips pressed into a thin line. Feyd-Rautha, whose eyes had been glued to you, watching your every tiny, minute move, noticed the way your eyes lingered. His lip curled into a sneer as he turned to look at the man, whose comrades had all immediately stepped away, leaving him alone and exposed.
"Captain." the na-Baron's voice was dangerous. It was terrifying. You had never heard another human make a sound so guttural, so animalistic, and yet still manage to form it into a recognizable word.
As the man took a panicked step backwards, Feyd-Rautha stalked toward him. Your future husband smoothly pulled a long knife from a hilt on someone's hip as he passed them by, and you could only stare as the captain was brutalized.
You had never seen such agony.
When Feyd-Rautha was finished with him and the room had finally quieted after the screams died out, he stood from the fresh corpse and turned to you, holding a weapon now dripping with dark blood as he faced you.
"For you," he said simply, sincerely, bowing his head yet never breaking eye contact.
You stared. You had no idea how to react upon witnessing such a barbaric act, one that was sure to play out in your nightmares for weeks to come. When you felt panic rising in your chest you forced it down, and mustered all of the courage you possibly could to say, "Thank you, my lord," and bow your head in return.
He seemed satisfied with this as the knife clattered to the floor and he strode forward to you. "Let us leave."
You agreed wholeheartedly, following him and leaving the other soldiers to collect the pieces of their captain, now strewn across the lounge. Feyd-Rautha held your arm once more as he led you down the corridor, though this time, he was far more gentle. Something had been released from within him, his bloodlust sated and his anger quelled for the moment, and as the reality of what you had just witnessed him do crashed down around you, you stumbled to a halt and doubled over.
"Milady?" he asked, confused, before he turned to see you holding a hand over your mouth as you desperately tried not to be sick. His hands gripped your elbows as he faced you, undeterred by your retching. "What is this? He is dead, there is nothing to--"
"You killed him!" you choked out as you gasped for air, the bile in your throat still threatening to come up.
"Yes," he said, head tilted as he looked at you. "Of course I did. For you, as a gift." Then he paused, thinking. "...Was there another? An assistant?"
"No!" you managed to swallow down the last of the bile, throat burning as you grasped your sweat-slick forehead with your palm. "No, there was only him, but--why would you do such a thing?"
Now he was truly bewildered. "Why wouldn't I kill the animal whose hands touched you before mine?"
"Because...I..." you huffed, glaring at him. "What is going on? What is all of this, over a custom of your people? I did not enjoy his examination by any means, but I am doing everything in my power to accept the customs of House Harkonnen with grace and dignity no matter how awful they are and this entire spectacle has now made that very difficult, na-Baron!"
"House Harkonnen does not practice such a thing," he sneered, eyes angry once more.
Your shoulders dropped in horror. "...Excuse me?"
"That man should never have been within a thousand lengths of you."
"...Oh..." the panic had returned, but now, it felt much worse, and your voice sounded impossibly small. You lowered your hand to your lips, chewing your nail in agitation.
"Do you understand?" Feyd-Rautha asked, still holding your elbows.
"...Yes, I'm afraid I do..."
He leaned in, his forehead meeting yours as he still stared at your eyes. You found his to be a deep, dark blue, an abyss that threatened to swallow you up. But right now, you wouldn't mind such a thing, if it meant you could hide away from the world forever.
"No one will every lay a hand on you." he growled. "No one but me."
"...You killed him for me," you whispered.
"I did."
"You avenged me...yet you did not proclaim your reason in front of those other men?"
"I do not need a reason to take a life," he barked a laugh.
You just nodded.
"And I would not humiliate my wife in such a manner." he straightened once more, letting go of your elbows and offering you his arm once more.
"Thank you," you said as you took it and began walking.
"It does not matter to me if you another man has had you before." he said, staring forward. "I know the children you will bear will be mine."
He said it with an arrogance that may have annoyed you had the situation been different. Now, it was a comfort that he had such a big ego.
"That is correct, na-Baron," you said, sighing in relief. At least the whole ordeal was over now, and you doubted anyone would be foolish enough to cross your path now that one man had already been publicly eviscerated.
"Call me Feyd."
"Thank you," you glanced up at him with a small smile. "Thank you, Feyd."
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The Emperor's Wife// Paul Atreides
Warnings: angst, unrequited love, slow burn kinda
"That princess shall have no more of me than my name. No child of mine nor touch nor softness of glance, nor instant of desire." The promise of Paul Atreides as he ascended your father's throne was held true for some time. But his words began to falter in time, against his will.
He married you, but remained loyal to his concubine, Chani. But he did acknowledge that you had a literary nature, and he entrusted you to sit in on his council meetings as Emperor. The more time you spent around each other, the more you became companions, and the more he relied on your mind to help him keep a balance of things.
You noticed as Paul started to become more relaxed around you. He'd even have a laugh with you now and then. It was clear that he valued your friendship as much as your ability to write and make sense of things.
One day Paul joked that Chani was his wife of passion and you were his intellectual wife. Your feelings had started to form into deep admiration for your husband, so his words were course against your ears. Though you knew that this was the way it had to be, it wasn't any easier to hear him say it.
But there was a look from him, a look where he scanned you, slowly, from head to toe. Your special training had kicked in. You could feel it; it was desire. He thought his momentary glance would go undetected, but that was nary the case.
All the late evenings in the council room, all the discussions you had about history and his interest in your writings, it all bubbled up to his vow being broken. You caught his gaze in a meeting later, and his green eyes could no longer lie to you. He was curious and desirous of you. But he could not do anything about it. He simply could not act on it.
But you, on the other hand, were tired of the intellectual relationship. This feeling was different for you, and you never expected to fall for him. Your body ached, your skin burned for your husband. Even if it was just once, you had to have him.
You hated to admit to yourself the jealousy you felt toward his Fremen woman. You wanted to feel what Chani felt. Just one full moment of Paul's desire. You needed his touch. To exchange passionate breaths with him. To have the weight of the handsome Emperor on top of you. To have his eyes on you, and only you.
..........
You ventured to Paul's sietch, into the private apartment he shared with Chani. The Fremen in the village knew you, so they did not try to stop you, or persuade you to leave. They welcomed you with respect, as you were indeed Muad’Dib’s wife.
The room was quite plain and modest for an Emperor and his woman. The bed, however, looked cozy with glow globes on either side. The scent of cinnamon and coffee hung in the air, laced with the spice melange.
You hoped he'd come soon. You hoped he would be the first one in, and not Chani. You didn't know what to say to her, if that would be the case. She had always been pleasant toward you when you were around her, but you didn’t know if her attitude would remain the same if she knew you wanted to bed her man.
You hoped that he wouldn't be harsh towards you; that he wouldn’t be angry about you invading the space he shared with his concubine. You liked to think that you had broken his walls and exposed the tender side of him. You sat on the bed, waiting.
Finally, you heard footsteps approaching, there was a tired huff from the person outside the door, and you knew the voice instantly. Paul came in, pulling off his still suit the second he entered. He didn't see you at first. You saw his shoulders and chest as he rid himself of the rubbery material. He was strong, with hard muscles and pale skin with minor scars here and there.
You could smell the dirt and sweat that he carried. It did not deter you in the slightest, but made you more eager.
He could sense you there. You knew he could.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, without even turning to face you.
You took a shaky breath, then answered, "I wanted to see you, Paul."
He finished freeing his arms from the constrictive suit, turning to look at you sitting on his bed. "And why?"
You were excited just seeing his shoulders, but now you saw his naked chest, his hard pectoral muscles and small nipples. You nearly shuddered with need. "I-uhm," I want you. "I wanted to make sure that you saw how bright and beautiful the two moons look this evening. And maybe you'd like to see my latest Muad'Dib chronicle?"
Paul nodded, "Hm." He stepped over to the window, looking up at the moons, "They are quite beautiful tonight."
You rose from the bed, joining him by the window. You could really feel his presence now, as you usually didn't get quite this close to him. His scent was stronger, too. "I brought my latest writings. If you want to read."
"Sure. You may leave them here."
He was so polite, but never overly kind. He couldn't disrespect Chani. But you so wanted things to change between you and your husband.
"Paul, I really came here to talk to you about something."
He took his eyes off the night sky outside his window and looked into your eyes. "Go on."
Your heart started thumping in your chest, you cleared your throat. "Well, I do not wish to overstep, but I think you and I have both come to enjoy our time together. I think it is safe to say that we are good friends now." You got stuck for second as you got a close look of the sweat glistening on his skin in the glowing light of the dark room.
Paul softly smiled, giving you a nod to keep going.
"But, I need you to know that no matter how amazing the moons might be on a starry night, it is no match for the way I feel when I look at you."
His expression fell, and he shook his head, "Y/n, please. I am very flattered. I appreciate you, and I care for you."
You butted in, "I can sense that you desire me, Paul. You've already broken your oath. I know that you feel distant towards your concubine, and I wonder if it has anything to do with how you feel about me."
He chuckled, walking away from you, "I thought you said you didn't wish to overstep?"
"I cannot help it. I'm sorry. But you know my training." You genuinely didn't want to disrupt anything between him and Chani.
He ran his hand over his face, pushing away the exhaustion of the day, trying to make sense of his own feelings as well. "Y/n, you aren't wrong. Chani knows that my sentiments for you have shifted."
So he admits it!
"You haven't bedded her for weeks now, have you?" you prodded, carefully.
"No," he stepped closer to you, towering over you by several inches, "not that it is any of your business."
"I don't want to make you angry, Paul. But I have seen the way you look at me, the way you brush passed me during council. You've preferred spending more and more time with me lately." You took a step forward this time, just a foot's length away from him.
Paul let his guard down, knowing that you were right about everything. His face softened, and he brought his hand up to caress your face. His hand had been roughed up by the wind and sand if the desert, but you could still see yourself melting against it as he touched you.
Paul went on to say, "You should know by now how I feel for you. But it cannot be. I made a promise. I don't ever want to be cruel to you, my y/n." he licked his dry lips, and you noticed just how blue his eyes were as a result of spice addiction. "I did not marry you for things such as love or children, you know that."
"Yes, I know." you sighed, having heard that piece of information a hundred times during your marriage. "My husband, you are a loyal man. I admired you for that, but I don't wish for anything more than the same love that you have for your concubine. You can share that tenderness with me."
He said nothing, but kept his hand on your cheek, gazing at you so fondly.
You could sense him breaking for you. "Paul," you leaned closer, placing your hand on his exposed chest, "I have seen the way your eyes narrow at me when I bow before you as my Emperor."
Then, his hand wound tightly into your hair, and his lips were being smashed against yours. He pulled you against him, he moaned into your kiss. His hands were on your body, sliding up the curves of your hips.
Your body was electrified, you ran your hands through his hair, not caring how sweaty he was. The hunger was equal on both sides.
Paul pulled away suddenly, sighing as he turned away from you.
He was still wrestling in his mind, you knew it. "I need you." you said, melancholy taking over your tone as you started to believe he was going to refuse you completely, "I need my husband. I want to made love to by Muad'Dib." You went over to him, looking at his back you noticed a scar, larger than the others on his body. You wondered if the mark was result of a fall on a sand dune or maybe the consequence of riding the great sandworm. You reached out, cautiously running your finger along the scar.
He shivered at your touch, but he didn't shy away.
You decided that maybe this plan was fruitless, that he wouldn't, and never could love you the proper way in which a man loved his wife. "Paul, if you do not love me, I will leave now. You'll never see me come back to this place. I will accept being wrong. Things will go back as they were."
"No, please, don't go." he faced you again. He relaxed more, his body language and the look in his eyes was more at ease.
"Then stop me, my dear husband."
@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @bitchyunknownuser @lixzey @kpopgirlbtssvt @ducktapebar
#timothée chalamet#timmy chalamet#timothee chalamet smut#timothée imagine#paul atreides#paul atreides x reader#paul atreides smut#paul atreides imagine#dune fandom#dune film#dune#dune 2021
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SUGAR, SPICE, AND EVERYTHING NICE ━━ FA14.
being the wife to a formula one driver is hard, especially when they're far away.
( fernando alonso x wife!reader )
━━ one shot.
When you were ten, you baked with your grandmother for the first time and fell in love. With the flour up to your elbows, an apron two sizes too big looped twice around your waist, and your grandmother's sweet voice crooning along to Sergio Endrigo, she taught you the differences between a teaspoon and a tablespoon, that a pinch sometimes means two, and when it comes to cinnamon you can never have too much.
“My angioletto,” she called you, her little angel, “it doesn’t have to look pretty when it’s done. When I was younger, I made my husband, your nonno, the ugliest cookies you could imagine. But I put my love in it, and he loved me very much, and he ate every single one and for the rest of his years claimed they were the best cookies I ever made for him.”
She’d lifted you onto the stool at the counter, so you could peer down at the mangled mess of cinnamon rolls. “It may look odd on the outside, but it is just as delicious as the others, and you know what? It’s even more special because it was made by my granddaughter.”
She’d wrapped you up in her arms then, pressing a kiss to your forehead and laughing loudly and warmly when you tried to squirm out of her arms with a giggle of your own.
“One day, my angioletto, you will find someone who loves you with their entire heart, and it won’t matter how pretty your baking is, because they will eat it, and to them it will taste like heaven.” She’d pulled apart the cinnamon roll, looked you in the eye, and smiled— “Until that someone gets here, I will stand in.”
You ate the whole pan together, and neither of you cared that it ruined your appetite for supper or gave you a stomach ache a little while later.
She’d driven you home that night after the sun had set, and when you got to the little shop on the corner of the market square, a little storefront overgrown with ivy, she’d slowed to a cruise and pointed out where the old sign used to be— where there was just an off-color splotch where the walls around it had been bleached by the sun.
She had regaled you with another story of her time as a girl in the kitchen baking bread with the owner, as she did every morning before school in exchange for a few dollars a month, and then she told you, as she always did, that one day she’d buy it for herself and turn it back into the best bakery Italy had ever seen.
When you were twenty— a law school dropout, struggling to find your place in a world that didn’t seem to have any room for you— you bought the small shop on the corner of the market square, turned it into a bakery, and named it after your grandmother.
It was all on a whim, a result of what you're pretty sure was some quarter-life crisis brought on by feeling as lost as you were. Still, you were living out the lingering ghost of a pipe dream from your teenage years that your father's harsh words and mother's disapproval had shattered to pieces, and following in the footsteps of the woman who inspired your passion for creation.
You’re nearly thirty now, and you still don’t regret buying the bakery. It’s your home away from home now— your home when your heart is halfway around the world and waking up as you go to bed. You love what you do, and you feel grateful that you’ve lucked out in being able to spend your days doing something that makes you so genuinely happy.
But that doesn’t mean that every day is easy.
Today is one of those hard days. Valentine’s Day is just a week away which means orders are coming in like crazy, and on top of the hecticness it’s also the thirteenth anniversary of your grandmother’s passing. Even though you’ve made it these thirteen years without her, the reminder of her legacy— her dream, which you now live for her— is no easier to deal with now than it was all those years ago when you’d just lost her.
The smell of fresh bread from the kitchen and the deep lull of Sergio Endrigo over the bakery’s speakers do nothing but remind you of her and the afternoons you spent in her kitchen, kneading dough and icing cookies. You feel like a little girl again, laughing over old stories of your mother and flushing bright red when she’d bump her hip against yours and ask if there were any boys at school that had caught your eye.
You’d give anything to hear her talk about her days at the bakery one more time, have her guide you through another recipe, or listen to her sing along to old Italian classics.
“Are you okay, Y/N?” Beatrice asks. She’s a young American woman you met a few years back when she was studying abroad. She hadn’t known much Italian back then, and you were the first person she’d met who could speak English, so she’d asked you for directions to the nearest bus station and you had walked her there to make sure she wouldn’t get lost, which had led to you both talking, trading contact information, and eventually you offering her a job at the bakery when she announced to you months later after continued talking that she’d be staying for the foreseeable future.
You wipe your hands against your apron and offer her a smile. It doesn’t come as easily as it normally does, and you feel like it shows. “Just being a bit nostalgic today,” you admit, turning your gaze to the picture of your grandmother that hangs on the wall across from the display case.
There are other pictures hung up with her— you in front of the bakery on the day you bought it, the bakery back when your grandmother still worked there nearly sixty years ago, you and your husband the day you got married, and Beatrice with her three dogs to list a few, all things and places and people you love and want to remember.
“My grandmother, who I named this place after, have I ever told you about her?”
Beatrice hums, thinking back to the many conversations you have both shared you imagine. As she does so, she reaches for a cloth to start wiping down the front of the display case. “I don’t think so,” she finally answers, rounding the counter to the glass front. “I knew the bakery was named after her, and that she taught you to bake, but not much else. You don’t really talk about her much.”
You frown, “I guess I don’t.”
“But it’s okay,” Beatrice adds quickly. “I know family can be a touchy topic. If you’d rather not talk about her, I understand. I’m not very fond of talking about my brother, to be honest.”
The only time Beatrice does talk about her brother is when she’s drunk, which she usually tends to be when the two of you sit down over a bottle of wine and gossip about the happenings of your lives. You’ve heard plenty of stories about him, and thinking back to the most recent one in particular startles a laugh out of you.
Beatrice seems relieved when you glance back over to her with a soft smile.
“My grandmother was the greatest woman I ever knew,” you start. “Do you mind if I talk about her?”
Your employee— your friend— smiles gently at you and continues polishing away the smudges on the display case. “I would love it if you talked about her.
“She used to call me her little angel…”
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yourusername i’ll leave a piece just for you, nonna.
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user that looks delicious!!
user it’s actually my dream to visit y/n’s bakery 😍
↳ user no cuz literally same, idk anyone else who makes smth as simple as bread look so amazing
↳ user it’s like how irl some foods don’t look that good but somehow in cartoons they make it look like it’s the most appetizing thing in the entire world i would actually cut off my own arm and leg just to get to try a single bite
user così carino!! ❤️❤️
user how is it possible to make food look heavenly 😳
user every time she posts food it makes me want to marry a husband that can bake bc there’s no way i could ever do this myself but i do in fact want to live a life like this so very badly
↳ user FELT THIS OMG
user what a beautiful way to remember someone 🫶
user she’s gorgeous aND SHE CAN BAKE???
↳ user she’s really the most wag of all wags 😩
↳ user fell down a rabbit hole of wag interactions throughout the years and y/n’s introduction into the group is so iconic bc she baked them all cookies and brought them when she first met them all
↳ user i read that in an interview that she knows all their favourites and tries to make them all throughout the season when she goes to races
↳ user she’s actually such a sweetheart irl too, i visited the bakery before i ever knew who she was or what f1 is and if i hadn’t already seen that ring on her finger i would’ve shot my shot no joke 😔😔
↳ user what’s alonso’s secret??? where can i find me a wifey like that???
user this is gorgeous
user using food to celebrate a loved one is one of the most loving things a person can do in my opinion. so much love goes into food, but especially baked goods which take time and patience and practice. this is a really touching and beautiful way to honor someone, and i hope she’s watching down on you and thinking the same thing ❤️
↳ user didn’t think i was gonna be crying today but here we are ig 😭
fernandoalo_oficial mi vida, she would be so proud of you 💛
↳ yourusername i hope so, i am who i am because of her 💛
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yourusername arrivederci 💛
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fernandoalo_oficial and may it be soon, mi vida 💛
user obsessed with the way fernando is obsessed with his wife
↳ user the fact that he calls her mi vida every time he addresses her has me walking into oncoming traffic 🙃
↳ user “my life” in spanish 😭😭 i literally fucking can’t when is it my turn to get a man that loves and cherishes me like this
↳ user honestly i think it’s just time to accept we’ll be alone forever cuz if he don’t treat me the way fernando treats his wife then i don’t want him
user for the ppl asking, arrivederci means until we meet again in italian, it’s a pretty common way to say goodbye in italy
↳ user AND FERNANDO SAID AND MAY IT BE SOON OH I AM ILL
user when will he return from the war…
↳ user it’s only february the season hasn’t even started yet so why isn’t he with her??
↳ user aston martin’s hq is in the uk and fernando has to be there for the car reveal, testing/sims, training, promo content, etc. it’s the logistical pr side of formula 1 that makes the season start a lot earlier than what ppl might think
↳ user AND OVER VALENTINE’S DAY TOO??? 😭😭😭😭
user mama y papa
user i want to grow old with someone and have pictures of our vacations to look back on and remember and i don’t think that’s too much to ask for
user she’s posting like he’s dead or smth 💀
↳ user i mean i would be too if my husband was missing valentines day bc of work tbf 🤷♀️
user i can’t believe fernando alonso bagged a baddie who ain’t even 30 yet
↳ user i can have you SEEN fernando alonso?? 👀👀👀
↳ user have you SEEN y/n?? 👀👀👀
↳ user two baddies bagged each other guys there’s not a lot to try and comprehend
Fernando being gone has never really mattered to you much. You miss him, of course. He’s your husband and ideally, you would be able to travel the world with him on a whim without needing to worry about who’s in charge of the bakery, but despite how perfect your life seems with Fernando by your side, there are a lot of things that don’t go according to plan and Fernando’s hectic work schedule is one of them.
The constant traveling across the season is exhausting for both of you, even though you’re not the one doing the majority of it. You attend his races when you can— usually when Beatrice forces you to, which is more and more recently as of late, with the logic that you should get the chance to see the world while you’re still young and while Fernando is still racing— but even when you’re home in Naples, the worry that you feel for Fernando as he flies around the world and races in a dangerous car takes its toll.
You wouldn’t even think of ever asking him to give it up, but not being by his side is hard and you cannot afford— for the sake of the bakery— to follow him wherever his sport takes him. So for now, you will always worry and stress about the toll it all takes on him as well.
You honestly hadn’t given much thought that he’d be missing Valentine’s Day this year, but it occurs to you now as you scroll through the comments on your post.
It’s by far the first time he’ll be gone for the holiday, but something about this year just feels different. Maybe it’s the stress of the extra workload you’ve taken on at the bakery to make up for the extra orders this year and the employees that have had to call out, or maybe the anniversary of your grandmother’s passing is hitting you harder this time than it has in the past, but whatever it is, the idea of Fernando not being here to celebrate with you has your eyes filling with tears as you sit curled up in bed.
Alone.
As you have been for the last few weeks now.
Fernando is in Silverstone, preparing for the launch of the new car and getting back into the swing of things before the new season starts, and this is part of the job you understand. You’ve been his wife for many years now. The racing may start in March, but the real season begins much sooner, and to a certain degree it never truly ends.
There’s always a push to be staying in shape, eating healthy, and staying up to date with all the up-and-coming news. Fernando has worked hard to try and find the middle ground, to enjoy his break while he has it, and take a step back from the Formula One world if only to de-stress from the sport’s particular brand of pressure.
And you’ve worked hard to accept that he will always be thinking like a race car driver.
Nonetheless, though you have enjoyed the interview clips and photographs of him being posted around on social media, and you love even more the pictures your husband’s teammate has been sending you and you alone, you can’t help but want to be selfish. You want to have him with you, in your home, cuddled up beside you instead of 1700 kilometers away in another country.
But that’s the way of things.
You’re about to turn off the lamp and, maybe, cry yourself to sleep while ignoring the very cold and very empty other half of a bed that’s too big for one— a bed you haven’t slept in the middle of since before you ever met Fernando, too used to occupying one side and finding another body on the other— when your phone lights up with an incoming call and his contact image flashes across your screen.
It’s late in Italy, nearing midnight now, and the UK isn’t too far behind. With the strictness of his daily schedule and the importance of a full night of rest, he should already be in bed by now. He should’ve already been in bed hours ago, if you remember correctly from past seasons.
“Fernando?”
“My love,” he greets, soft and sweet and sounding like just hearing you say his name has left him breathless. You can practically hear the smile in his voice. “I am sorry that it’s so late. I hope I did not wake you up, but I am calling because I simply could not bear to fall asleep without hearing you.”
You sniffle, wiping away at the tears in your eyes, but the quiet noise must’ve been enough for him to hear because he makes an inquisitive sound.
“Mi vida,” he calls to you, concern seeping into his words. “What is wrong? Are you okay?”
“Mhm,” you hum back to him, shifting around in bed to face the window and the scenic view that lies beyond. You can see the ocean from your home— the dark water pulling in and pushing out and glittering with the reflected light of the moon, and the boats docked at the marina, still, silent, asleep. The moon’s glow paints the cityscape in an ethereal haze, like something from a fairytale. “I’m okay. Just a bad few days. I miss you, Fernando.”
“I know, my love,” he coos. “But we will be together soon. Do you remember what I told you when I left?”
As if you could possibly forget. The morning he left, a fog had rolled in from the sea and you’d swathed yourself in a shawl to chase away the early, damp chill as you stood on the stoep to see him off.
Fernando had wrapped you up in his arms, an embrace so warm and safe that the feeling had lingered for hours afterward still, and he’d whispered in your ear that he would move mountain and sea to get back to you if you ever needed him.
“But I always need you,” you’d teased. He’d chuckled and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, a promise, and then pulled you in even closer, tucking your head beneath his chin and letting his fingers run through your hair and comb through the remaining bedhead tangles.
You would similarly move earth and sky to be with him again now, just to feel his arms around you, or in the bed beside you.
“I meant what I said,” he says over the phone, drawing your attention back.
You hum again, “I know. But sweetheart, you have a job to do. It’s a very important job, too.” You curl the blankets around you tighter. “Pay no mind to my musings, okay? It’s just been a rocky start. The bakery has lots of orders to get through for Valentine’s Day, and I am short-staffed now.”
“What has happened?”
“What hasn’t?” You joke, heaving a sigh. “Rodrigo broke his hand in a biking accident this past Sunday, and the doctor says he’ll be out for a month at least. I can have him work the register and do minor cleaning chores, but we really need him in the kitchen because Andrea hasn’t yet been trained to use the equipment. I am trying to have Beatrice help with that, but it will take time we don’t have. On top of that, Samuel’s wife is having her baby so he has taken paternity leave, and Gemma has gone back to France for her mother’s birthday.”
Fernando makes a noise of understanding. “You are so stressed, mi vida. I wish there was more I could do. I am sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. You have no reason to. In fact, I should be thanking you because I’m feeling so much better just hearing your voice,” you answer. Feeling the tears dissipate as your husband’s joyous laughter trickles into your ear from the phone’s speaker.
“And I am better just hearing yours,” he says. “But I will leave you to sleep now. It’s too late for you to be awake. Te amo, mi esposa.”
“Ti amo, marito mio.”
INSTAGRAM.
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lance_stroll i’m really only here to take pictures for his wife
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fernandoalo_oficial the heart is for her only
yourusername and i appreciate you very much for it lancino 🫶
↳ lance_stroll at least someone cares about the work i put in 😔
astonmartinf1 Breaking News: Aston Martin’s Lance Stroll challenges Aston Martin’s social media admin for their job
↳ lance_stroll thanks but i think i’ll stick to driving fast cars. it’s less stress.
user FERNANDO MAKING FINGER HEARTS FOR HIS WIFE 😭😭😭
user if you look closely you can actually see me about to jump off the roof in that last picture 🫠
↳ user real
user why is the first one so cute??
user lance is really just fernando and y/n’s kid at this point, he’s the disgruntled son who reluctantly takes pictures of his dad to send to his mom, and he complains about it, but he secretly loves doing it
↳ user i mean have you SEEN what y/n does for his birthday each year??
↳ user no????
↳ user she specifically learned how to make bannock and a bunch of other traditionally canadian desserts and baked goods for him
↳ user i bet lance’s trainer hates that lmao 😂😂
↳ user you all are talking about them like y/n isn’t just a few years older than lance himself is 💀
↳ user leave fernando and his controversially young wife alone
↳ user guys?? he’s literally only 42?? y/n is almost in her 30s, it could definitely be worse. at least they’re both well into adulthood
user nobody talk to me for the rest of the day this is all i can think about now
user HE MAKES LANCE TAKE PICTURES TO SEND TO HIS WIFE PLS OH MY DAYS
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tagged: yourusername
fernandoalo_oficial throwback thursday, as they say, except it isn’t thursday and i just wanted a reason to post my beautiful wife. te amo 💛.
view all 1,165 comments
yourusername i love you more mio carissimo 💛
↳ fernandoalo_oficial impossible, i love you the most
user adding “posts me just bc he can” to my list of standards for men
user SCREAMING CRYING SOBBING
user “just wanted a reason to post my beautiful wife” oh my god fernando alonso the man that you are… 😩😩
user guys he’s the blueprint
↳ user she’s so lucky
user WHEN IS IT MY TURN???? CAN I NOT BE HAPPY TOO????
user she’s actually so beautiful omg 😳😳😳
↳ user they’re such a power couple
↳ user super excited for y/n to be back in the paddock this year (fingers crossed it happens more) cuz she’s actually so stunning and her outfits are always very classy and fun to look at
↳ user is there a reason she doesn’t go to many races?? they don’t have kids iirc, so idk why she wouldn’t be able to attend more 🤔
↳ user she owns and runs a small bakery in italy, which means she can’t just travel for 9 months out of the year. she shows up when she’s able to, don’t get me wrong, but it’s definitely less frequently than some of the other wags
user gen imagine being fernando alonso’s wife
↳ user i think i would cease to exist
user cuando es mi turno 😭
Valentine’s Day arrives and with it comes the added stress of knowing you’ll be stuck in the bakery all day helping last-minute patrons sort through pastries and treats for their partners. This in and of itself is not a problem, you’ve always liked helping people and baking is your passion after all, but the idea of rising before the sun and being on your feet until long after it sets is not the most appealing, and even worse, your usual happiness is still overshadowed by the cloud of gloom that’s been following you since last week.
Ever since his first late-night call, Fernando has been good about making sure to ring you in the morning before he heads into the factory, and at night when he leaves. It’s helped, certainly, but nothing ever compares to the real thing and that thought makes you feel guiltier every day that you think it.
He has a job to do, a job that he loves. Neither of you should be forced to give up your passions, and that just means needing to make a few sacrifices every once in a while.
He doesn’t call you that morning, however, and though you hide it behind as much of a cheery grin as you can manage, it stings and you’re disappointed.
But throwing yourself into your work is always something you’ve been good at, so you focus instead on kneading dough, mixing pastry filling, and icing cupcakes.
Beatrice finds you back in the kitchen an hour before the bakery is scheduled to open, and the look on her face tells you she knew it’s where you would be.
“You shouldn’t be working today,” she says in lieu of a greeting.
You shrug, sliding a pan of bread from the oven. “We are too short-staffed for me to not be working today. Plus, what would I do anyway? Sit at home alone pretending that I’m not? At least in the bakery, I can put myself to use and be distracted.”
All she does is sigh.
The morning goes well. There’s a bit of a rush when you first open, the most notable of customers is a disgruntled older gentleman who you consider to be a monthly regular. He explains a long-winded story about his daughter’s boyfriend breaking up with her over text last night, and needing something to help cheer her up. He leaves with a box of cannoli, and an extra loaf of bread you threw in for him on the house.
Near the afternoon is when it starts to pick up, but in a lull between customers just after lunchtime, Beatrice corners you in the back. Her arms are crossed over her chest, her eyebrows are furrowed, and her mouth is set in a line.
“Go home,” she orders.
You huff. “Beatrice, I am the boss. Not you.”
She raises an eyebrow.
“I am not going home! The rush will get busier later this evening and we are short-staffed—”
“Rodrigo’s coming in to work register in—” she checks the watch on her wrist, “—fifteen minutes. I ran Andrea through kitchen duty the other day and I’ll be supervising her the entire time, and Marco and Silvia both said they could pick up a shift. I also have a text from Samuel’s wife saying if we need even more help she would gladly get her husband out of the house if it means he’ll stop hovering over her, and I’m prepared to take her up on that offer should the need arise.”
You blink at her. There’s a reason she’s the one you leave in charge when you travel, but whenever you’re reminded of just how good she is at managing the bakery you’re always left a little shocked. She orchestrated everything in the span of a morning and you didn’t even notice.
“Why do you want me to go home so badly?” You ask her, shoving your hands down into your apron’s pockets. “Nothing is waiting for me there anyway. Even if we weren’t short-handed, I would’ve still been here.”
“You sure about that?” Is all she says before turning on her heel and exiting back into the front of the bakery.
You don’t pretend to understand what she’s talking about as you hang your apron up and head for home. Beatrice shoots you a wink as you wave goodbye, and it feels like some sort of foreshadowing for whatever awaits you.
Nothing, however, looks any different than it had when you left. You park your car in the empty driveway, collect the newspaper from the stoep, and unlock the door.
Your keys and the newspaper are both tossed onto the counter just inside the kitchen as you toe off your shoes. You hang up your jacket on the dining room chair as you make your way into the living room, and then you pause.
There, resting on the couch is a stuffed toy bear and a bouquet of your favorite flowers. In the bear’s arms is a little sign, and the handwriting is already enough to have your eyes filling with tears.
“Fernando?” You call out to the silent house.
You check the ground floor and find no other sign of him, so you take to the stairs and begin the ascent up to the next, continuing to call out the many different pet names you have given to him throughout the years.
You peek into the bedroom, “Mia vita?”
Stood in the center of the room, a big grin on his face, is your husband. Fernando looks mighty proud of himself, a glint in his eyes that tells you he’s had this planned for a while and he’s smug that he’s managed to keep a secret from you. He opens his arms wide when you just continue to stand in the doorway, and like a flip has been switched, you rush into him when a sob of happiness.
He wraps himself around you, and the feeling of his arms holding you so firmly in his embrace is warm and comforting, and everything you had missed in the weeks he was gone. Your face is pressed into the crook of his neck, and the smell of his cologne has you sagging even further against him, sinking as far as you can into his hold.
He presses a kiss to your head and sways the both of you back and forth.
“Mi vida,” he murmurs. “I’m here, my love. I’m here.”
“I didn’t know you were coming home,” you cry against him, voice muffled from where your face is still pressed against him.
He runs a hand through your hair, scratching his nails against your scalp in the way that always calms you down, and hums. You feel it in the vibration of his chest more than you hear it. “I wanted to surprise you after you told me how stressed you were. I told you, no? I would move mountains and seas to be with you whenever you need me.”
“Ti amo,” you whisper against his skin.
“Te amo,” he whispers into your hair.
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yourusername to the luce dei miei occhi, i love you more than life itself 💛
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fernandoalo_oficial mi vida i'll love you in this life and the next, until the very end of time itself 💛
↳ yourusername ti amo mia vita
user LUCE DEI MIEI OCCHI = LIGHT OF MY EYES
↳ user oh my days 🫢
↳ user i’m actually ill that is too cute
user they ARE that couple and they have every right to be
user WAR IS OVER
user i need them to adopt me right tf now it’s not a want it’s a need
user GUYS HE WAS JUST IN SILVERSTONE LIKE A DAY AGO??? FOR THE CAR LAUNCH??? THAT MEANS HE FLEW ALL THE WAY TO ITALY LAST MINUTE JUST TO SEE HIS WIFE FOR VALENTINES DAY
↳ user fernando alonso once again proving why he’s the best husband on the grid
↳ user i’m obsessed with them a totally normal amount
lance_stroll every time i saw him he was talking to someone about how he had plans to surprise his wife, i’m so surprised he didn’t end up ruining the secret somehow
↳ fernandoalo_oficial have more faith in your padre
↳ lance_stroll well i’ve seen my “padre” make the most cartoon heart eyes at a picture of baked goods so i don’t think faith is really gonna cut it. you’re whipped man 🤷♂️
↳ yourusername lancino you must put up with so much from this old man
↳ lance_stroll you know what? i really do
━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @casperlikej @pear-1206
━━ a/n: this is the longest fic i've ever written, coming in at a whopping 5.4k words! and it's also the first request i've written for! so, cheers to that. this is my little valentine's day story, because i'm actually a big sap and i really do love good fluffy romances, so writing this distracted me from the fact that i'm actually very alone at the present haha! anyways, hope you all enjoyed! i also wrote this in under 24 hours, and it's a lot, so if there's any editing mistakes please ignore them, i genuinely could not bring myself to re-read all of this looking for every single mistake.
#formula 1#formula one#f1#formula 1 imagine#f1 imagine#formula one imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1 x reader#formula one x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#social media au#fernando alonso#fernando alonso x reader#fernando alonso imagine#fa14#lance stroll
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꒰꒰ ‧₊˚𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 ─ 𝐓𝐖𝟎𝟎 ˚₊· ꒱꒱
─ summary . . . ❨ their wives are bestfriends and former bandmates leave toto and chisritian in a tough place where they have to pretend to like each other. or else ❩
─ pairing . . . ❨ toto wolff x fem! wife! spice girl! reader ❩
─ genre . . . ❨ social media file ❩
─ author note . . . ❨ okay so not super happy with this one but I hope you guys enjoy this! ❩
❨ taglist | masterlist ❩
mercedesamgf1
liked by yourinstgram gerihalliwellhorner 23,234,234 others
mercedesamgf1 Congratulations to Red Bull on your Constructors' Championship 👏
You've set the standard for everybody else to aim at this year. We’ll be giving it everything to bring the fight in 2024. 💪
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user Red Bull and Mercedes literally carried last couple year and also whole Netflix series
user Well I didn’t expect that… but Ggs to redbull fans
user Classy move team, classy move.
user Love how the team itself can congratulate their rivals on an achievement but the fans are the ones who cause the chaos
user okay but can we agree that Y/N forced Toto to make this post...
⤷ user sorry new to f1 why would his wife do that ain't there teams enemies and I swear toto and Christian hate each other
⤷ user their wives are both best friends (they were in the spice girls) and they basically force the two of them to get along
user aht we need you back out there next year this is hurting me lol
user As a redbull fan, i didnt expect that, idk if redbull would have done the same but thats wholesome
⤷ user geri would have forced Christian to for Y/N
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yourinstagram . 4hrs ago
seen by totowolffprivate christianhorner 67,772,124 others
mercedesamgf1
liked by yourinstagram gerihalliwellhorner 32,234,787 others
mercedesamgf1 Congratulations on your third F1 world title, Max. 🏆🏆🏆
You’ve driven a remarkable season - and you’re joining a special group of champions!
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user W class post. L classless comment section.
user guys stop commenting "second" I can’t like them all
user Y/N strikes again
user why's max like 🧍♂️ in the second pic 😭😭😭😭
user bet Y/N forced admin to post this
liked by mercedesamgf1
user The salt in this comment section 😂
user bet lewis isn't happy about sharing his merc mother
user Why does Russell George look like woody from Toy Story?
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yourinstagram
like by gerihalliwellhorner christianhorner 54,676,787 others
yourinstagram yes we forced are husbands into coming with us on a double date a act as camera men
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user bet they threatened there asses with divorce to make this happen
user they are everything and there husbands are just ken
user and historians said they were bestfriends
user god they would be so hot together
user and you are trying to tell me they have husbands and kids?!?!?
user dear god I would be worried if I was there men...
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─ requested by . . .
@luvrrish ─ omg i just saw that your requests are open (i totally wasn't stalking your acc)!!! but omg can you pretty please do a toto wolff smau with wife reader who was a spice girl and was/still is besties with geri which forces toto and christian to hangout (maybe they have kids and they're besties but thats up to you) thank you so much if you decided to do this 🫶🏽🫶🏽
anon ─ hiii!!! please do more toto wolff fics bcoz i need my lamp post so bad it hurts😭
#꒰꒰ ‧₊˚📁 ─ my works ˚₊· ꒱꒱#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#social media au#toto wolff#instagram au#instagram imagine#toto wolff imagine#toto wolff x reader#toto wolff x you#toto wolff fic#toto wolff fluff#toto wolff fanfic#toto wolff blurb#mercedes amg f1#f1 instagram au#instagram edit#f1 blurb#fake instagram#f1 fandom#f1 fluff#formula 1#insta edit#f1blr#f1edit#f1 imagine
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📄 𝐈𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡
Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader
𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.8k (help???)
𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Married couple, Wife!Reader, burnout, overstimulation (not sexually), arguing, angst followed by fluff, kiss and make up, virginal fingering, kisses galore, EVENTUAL SMUT, pregnancy sex, bit of body worship (he loves your pregnant body) cowgirl position, sensory deprivation sex.
𝐀/𝐍: I poured my heart into this one, not that I don’t always do but this one in particular just hits closer to home. And yes it’s a vent fic so very very self indulgent.
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You’re tired. He’s tired. There’s only so much stress you can withstand before you reach your tipping point. Luckily your husband is here to keep you grounded
It started off with a throbbing in your head and as irritating as it was, it wasn’t bad enough to disrupt your daily routine. But as the week rolled on, the throbbing sensation began to get worse.
You were becoming easily irritated and it didn’t help with the workload you had to tackle. Even Miguel noticed a change in your mood but whenever he would bring it up and ask you about it, you would deflect his questions and tell him you were fine.
You couldn’t bear the thought of burdening him when your struggles especially when he had his own responsibilities and duties to fulfill.
You knew that if you admitted the stress you were feeling, he would insist that you rest, which was the last thing you needed, especially with how much you needed to get done this week.
You tried your best to ignore the nerves that were stretching to their limits now, but it was proven more difficult with each passing day. You would feel a sense of dread as soon as you got out of bed, mentally bracing yourself for the overwhelming day you had to face.
Your mind was preoccupied now as you reached over the high shelf for the spice jar. Your stomach was jutted out with the new life brewing inside of you, making it harder for you to manoeuvre around.
Just as your fingers brushed against the jar you were after, a sudden voice tore through the room, snapping you out of your trance.
“¿Qué dije sobre pedirme ayuda?” Miguel called out before he went over and stood behind you to take the spice jar you were reaching for. “What if something fell on you?”
“I don’t need help,” you insisted, reaching over to reclaim the jar back from him.
Miguel arched his brow in mild amusement. “You’re struggling to reach the spices, and you’re saying you don’t need help?”
“I’m fine, I’m trying to make dinner,”
“I know I know. But I’m here now so you don’t need to do that tonight,” You knew he was trying to emphasise the fact that he willingly took the time out of his day just to be with you.
Normally, you would be beyond appreciative towards his gesture. With his duties back at Spider Society HQ breathing down his neck all the time, it was a rarity that you both had an evening together like this.
He would either be saving the city or in another dimension, and although you would still be able to contact him through your watch, it would never be the same as having his physical warmth with you.
But right now, you were driven by your stress and too wrapped up in getting the job done to be in the right state of mind and properly enjoy the night.
“Why not? I can still cook you know,” you resorted, pouring some of the spice in the pot before stirring the content.
“And yet, I don’t want you to.” He said firmly before he turned you around to face him and rested his hands on your growing belly, silently conveying his concern for your wellbeing. “Now go sit,”
As the food continued to bubble on the stove, you retreated from his touch defensively. His face twisted in confusion as you questioned, “Why the hell are you doing that?”
His face fell further at your change in tone, “Doing what? Touching you?”
“No, treating me like I’m a basket case,”
“I’m treating you like the mother of my child. You’re pregnant and over exerting yourself,” he tried to reason with you. You attempted to conceal how much your senses were firing right now.
You couldn’t tell if it was the aroma of the cooking that was making you slightly nauseous but you were starting to feel agitated.
“I’m pregnant, not paralysed Miguel. I’m fully capable of doing this myself,” you could see the frown forming on his face and he definitely picked up the hostility of your tone.
“I never said you weren’t capable but I don't want you doing too much,” he argued back, his voice growing more insistent, mirroring your frustration. He wasn’t going to let your stubbornness sway him, even if it did irk you.
You could feel the heat of your vexation rising in your guts. You hated being interrupted in the kitchen especially when you were making dinner. Even if you were tired, you were still going to stand your ground and continue until you were done.
Throughout the last few days there had been a build up of tension that you have been bottling up and you refused to talk about it with him, even if he did ask you about it.
You had no safe outlet for your emotions and now you can feel it taking a toll on your daily tasks. It was almost palpable and you couldn’t control the sudden outbursts you were throwing at your husband right now.
A small part of you knew that he didn’t deserve this harsh treatment you were giving him. But that meek feeling of self awareness was quickly overshadowed by your clouded mind that was skewing your thoughts, unbeknownst to you.
Out of bitterness, you twisted the knob to switch off the stove before you turned to look at him. His annoyed expression didn’t falter, rather you could see his brows furrowed more. “Why did you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Turn off the stove?”
“You wanted me to stop, didn’t you?” Now it was your turn to be confused, though you could still feel the lingering coldness.
He was so adamant on you not cooking so why is he still not satisfied when you turn the stove off? What was his problem?
“What are you trying to prove here?” He asked.
The question hit a nerve, the fact that he was insinuating that you had an ulterior motive just by a simple action. It was almost insulting. Was he trying to sound condescending just to throw you off?
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Don’t play dumb,”
Ouch.
“Oh please, enlighten me,” There was an obvious edge to your tone and he glowered at that. You could tell he was really starting to get annoyed when you saw his fangs started to emerge from his canines, something that was only stimulated in the height of rage or arousal.
“Cut the sarcasm. You’re purposely getting on my nerves and it’s working. Now, are you going to answer my question?” His voice demanded clarity from you and you weren’t sure if anything you said would satisfy him.
“Like I said, I’m doing as I’m told. Why are you getting mad?” You snapped back. You didn’t want to admit that what he said made the shadow of sympathy you felt early crawl back again.
He wasn’t aware of the emotions you were keeping inside of you and probably thought you were purposely reacting this way just to pull his leg.
“You know damn well that’s not how I meant with my words,” he was practically growling now and you could see the crimson in his eyes flicker like a flame.
With a weary sigh you pinched the bridge of your nose— a habit that you both seemed to share. You didn’t have the energy to deal with this argument now, it was clear that it wasn’t going anywhere.
The throbbing in your head was back, but now it felt like a pounding sensation reverberating in your skull. Without another word, you turned to leave the kitchen leaving the half-cooked food behind on the stove.
“Where are you going?” You heard him call out from the kitchen before he took a few steps in your direction.
“To the room, I lost my appetite,” You headed your way up to the bedroom. You didn’t hear his footsteps following after you as you closed the door behind you.
You climbed into bed with the blanket over you and made yourself as small as your pregnant belly will allow you. There was a sense of bleakness that was shrouding you now— the underlying stress you’ve been feeling was still there but it wasn’t as overbearing.
With the silence in the room, you’d think you’d be able to calm yourself down a little from the heated interaction you just had, but instead your mind was still racing. You couldn’t stop yourself from straining your muscles no matter how hard you tried.
You tightened your grip on the blanket and buried yourself deeper into the sheets, trying to block out as much of the lighting from the room as you could. You didn’t notice Miguel entering the room until you felt an additional weight on the bed beside you.
For a long moment, all you could hear was his steady breathing and the occasional bed creaking before he spoke out of nowhere. “Well, at least the silent treatment is an improvement from earlier,”
The sarcasm was uncalled for especially now. It made your blood boil. To make matters worse, he kept going. His voice, that you always loved hearing, now sounded like an irritating ring in your ear. “Are you just going to hide under the blanket until I forget about everything?”
“Stop talking….please stop talking!” you pleaded, your voice was quivering and on the verge of tears. You felt like you were at a tipping point, standing on the edge of something already breaking.
The sensory overload from the argument along with the tension was still present, and you desperately needed silence.
There was a long pause and your pulse was thudding in your ears. Even if you couldn’t see his face, you could tell he regretted his words just from his silence.
“Do you want me to turn off the lights and go?” His tone quickly switched, a soft caress. You poked your head out of the blanket to look at him.
You felt guilt tugging on your heart after everything that had just happened moments ago. Your husband didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of all of this. The least you could do now was end the night on a civil note.
“Turn off the lights but don’t leave me,” you requested. Without wasting a beat, Miguel got out of bed to turn off the lights before he climbed back in to embrace you.
The room was dark but you could still see his silhouette against the Nueva York city skyline from the bedroom window.
“Could you hold me? Please?”
“Of course,” his voice was a soothing balm against your firing nerves. Swallowing thickly, you pushed the blanket away and moved onto his waiting arms as he leaned against the headboard.
You settled onto his lap and you felt his broad arms wrap around you. Your eyes started to leak with your heated tears and before you could stop yourself, you broke into a sob.
“Just breathe, I’m not going anywhere. Take your time,” He muttered against the crown of your head. You rested your head against his chest with his heart thumping softly near your ear.
The throbbing was starting to ease and the relief that followed after came in waves. All that weeks worth of pent up tensity was released in one night through your tears.
With the absence of the lighting along with the silence, it was easier to reach the mellow state that your body was screaming for.
“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry,” you rambled, a sense of remorse crashing down on you like a storm.
“It’s okay…I feel like we should talk about some things though,”
“Like what?”
“How we should handle potential fights in our marriage. I don’t really like the way we argue and get at each other's throats so quickly,”
You let his words sink in. The mere thought made your heart ache. The situation would’ve never escalated this far if you hadn't talked to Miguel earlier. Instead you let things boil over.
“It’s my fault…”
“Why do you say that?”
“I kept brushing you off when you wanted to be there for me,” you admitted, a bitter irony taunting your confession.
In retrospect, you’ve witnessed Miguel struggle to open up about his feelings while you were still in the early stages of the relationship.
Even during your marriage, it was a huge step for him to finally be completely emotionally open with you. You’ve noticed how much your relationship has flourished since then and how closer you felt with him.
But now the tables have turned tonight, with you leaving Miguel oblivious to the series of weary emotions you were experiencing. You knew it wasn’t healthy for you or the baby growing inside you to carry such stress alone.
“I noticed the way you were struggling the past few days. I just wish you were more vulnerable with me and not feel like you have to put on a brave face just for my sake,” Miguel explained.
“I dont…I don’t really know where to start,” You tried to rack your brain and coordinate how to express the tension you’ve been feeling the past few days. It was difficult to pinpoint on one thing and string the words together.
“Everything just feels so overwhelming and too much for my brain to handle…even the clock ticking makes me want to rip my head off,” you clutched onto his shirt, a feeble attempt to hold onto your crumbling composure. “I don’t know if it’s the hormones from the pregnancy or a burn out. Or maybe both,”
“I’m leaning towards burn out since you’re showing all the signs, you’re easily irritated and I can see you’re overstimulated from the smell of the cooking to the lighting in the room,”
“Maybe you’re right,” you agreed softly. A lot of issues could be contained just by not saying anything. You seemed to be acutely aware of your own hesitation when it came to voicing your emotions.
It wasn’t that you didn’t want to share your feelings with Miguel; rather you didn’t know how to and feared the unknown reaction that may follow. You weren’t used to being this vulnerable.
You knew that you would rather hear Miguel share his emotions, even crying on your shoulder, than have him be silent. It was only fair that you took your own advice. Here you were advocating for openness, while grasping onto your own reticence.
“Could you do me a favour?” You asked in the midst of the silence that was shared between you.
“Of course,”
“I understand that you don’t want me to lift a finger especially while I’m pregnant but could you not try to intervene when I’m in the kitchen. I don’t like sitting around and I want to keep myself busy,”
You could sense the hesitance from him as he drew in a shaky breath before he spoke. “…yeah I can do that”
“You already have a lot on your plate,”
“I do, but promise me that you won’t leave me in the dark when you need something from me,”
“I promise.” You lifted your head from his chest to look at him. “I’m glad we’re on the same page Spiderman,”
Even if your view of him was obscured by the darkness in the room, you could still see his lips twitching up from your comment. “Mhmm that’s not an excuse for me to be a neglectful husband to you. So don’t act coy with me,”
“Oh I know. I’m just finding an excuse to be a smartass,” you teased him further by kissing along his jaw. Feeling his body tense from your touch, even if it was subtle, was a huge ego booster.
“Was that supposed to throw me off or something,” you could hear the groan he was trying to hide at the back of his throat as he spoke and it made your stomach flutter.
“Maybe,”
“Uh huh, you definitely did that on purpose,”
“I’ll do it again,”
“And I’ll kiss you right back,”
“Alright bet,” Before he could retaliate, you were bold enough to lap over his lower lip with your tongue. A low moan could be heard from him in response.
It was rare for you to initiate such a confident move like this but there was an undeniable spark and you didn’t want it to go just yet. The bleak mood from earlier was now forgotten and was replaced with arousal.
You pulled away to reposition yourself so you were fully facing him on your lap, your legs on either side of his hips.
His grip on your waist tightened in response drawing you closer to him until your bump was pressing against his torso. “You have no idea what you got yourself into,”
Finally with a longing that built in your stomach, you leaned in until your lips met in a fervent kiss. The weight of your doubts and anxiety was now completely diminished as you felt a magnitude that pulled you into bliss.
You felt him run his tongue over your lips and you parted them slightly in response. He took this opportunity to deepen the kiss, completely taking over your mouth with a low groan.
As you pulled away, breathless with desire, you couldn’t help but tease, “Too much or not enough?”
To which he responded, “Not even close to enough,”
“Good, then I’ll keep going. You’re not getting the upper hand here,” you were beaming at your own words.
But your confidence was cut short when you noticed his hand reach over and slipped under your pants and past your panties until his fingers were grazing against your folds.
Feeling the air that brushed against your slickness was enough to humble you. You didn’t realise how soaked you were until you felt yourself suction around him greedily as he pushed both his middle and ring finger in.
“You’re saying that now, just wait until I’m inside you,” he was taunting you, completely throwing you off but you would happily let his fingers do all the talking now, even if it was at the expense of your pride.
Your hand immediately reached to grapple onto his biceps to keep yourself steady. If it wasn’t for your restricted mobility from your bump, you would’ve started rolling your hips to ride on his fingers.
But instead you allowed him to do all the work. Your head rested on his shoulder and you moaned into his neck as the pad of his thumb rubbed against the sensitive nerves of your clitoris.
He dragged his fingers out, now wet from your arousal, and slowly ran it over your folds. The first thing you felt after he pulled his hands away from your cunt was his hard on, pressed against you.
You would’ve started grinding against him with how needy you were if he didn’t hold you still. He held you by the side and moved you off his lap so he could remove his pants and boxers before lying down flat on his back.
You didn’t need the light to know that his dick was standing on its end with beads of precum leaking from the tip. You removed your own clothes and felt the cold air slap on your cunt.
“Ven acá amor,” his voice was inviting and you’d be a fool to deny him.
You let him guide you, given his enhanced vision that allowed him to see in the dark. Both hands were on your rear, spreading your cheeks before you felt the tip nudge into your folds.
“Oh God-” you whimpered. You felt yourself stretch to accommodate him, sinking yourself lower until you were balls deep. Your hips flushed against him with your stiff clit pressed against the top of his groin,
“No divinity. Just your husband’s dick inside you,” A wide grin spread across his face. His hands were all over your growing belly, feeling the warmth of you and the occasional kick of the baby.
“Que bonita,” he said in awe. A sense of pride washed over him knowing he was the one who knocked you up, the woman he loved and the mother of his future child. “Muy linda tu barriga,”
You seemed to be more sensitive to his praises especially given the fact that you were getting cock drunk now.
Ever since your bump was starting to show, Miguel never missed the opportunity to praise you. He wanted you to feel proud of your physique and not be hesitant on your changing body.
His hands reached over to hold your waist before he piston his hips up and took control of the pace. You could tell he was holding back from going rough, handling you with extra care.
The feel of him thrusting inside was enough to knock the senses out of you until you were high from bliss. He was making sure you felt every sensation in full capacity, feeling every crevice of his dick being caressed by your silky walls.
His hands reached over to the back of your neck to pull you in until your lips met again. The kiss was disoriented and breathy as he was still trying to maintain his pace.
Each brush of his lips on yours was feeding into your ecstasy. You pulled away and nestled into his neck, taking in his dick so well.
“That’s it, let me make you feel good. Let me make you forget about your problems, amor,” he whispered lovingly in your ear.
“Miguel…” you couldn’t form a proper response, your moans of pleasure drowning out your voice.
He was so good at making feel this way, reaching optimal pleasure from his touches. With the absence of the lighting you allowed yourself to just physically feel everything he was giving you.
His broad head nudging into your cervix.
His soft whispers fanning against your ear.
His hands all over and worshiping you everywhere he could reach.
“God, you’re so easy to please,” You could tell he was reaching his peak. With one final buck from his hip, he dragged his dick to reach the depth of your cunt before he reached his climax.
You felt the contraction of your walls around him as he drenched his balls inside of you. His grip on you loosened and his dick slipped free from your grasp before deflating onto his thighs.
You whined from the sudden withdrawal and the muscles of your walls relaxed. There were still remnants of his cum that was sticking between your thighs but you would deal with that later.
Miguel kissed the top of your forehead before letting out a deep sigh. You both lay together in each other’s embraces, basking in the afterglow with your breaths merging together.
Amidst the tranquil intimacy, your stomach let out an unexpected growl, reminding you that you skipped dinner.
Miguel chuckled softly, “So, have you still lost your appetite?”
You huffed. “Well it’s suddenly back now that I’ve worked it up in other ways,”
Hot take: cooking together in the kitchen is NOT romantic 🙅🏻♀️🗣️ move out of my fucking way and let me work
𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @monarchberrysblog @strawberryjuice9 @lazyjellyfish300 @quack-ie @ghost-lantern
@ginanet @superstar-t20 @roreadsfanfics @francesca-the-1st @vanillapinkrose
@dfffghio @migueloharastruelove @nerdyninjaprincess @unhinged-reader-36 @maiyart
@nediks @ahcrie4help @cl3stevu @kodo1221 @boobsbeesbongos
@emelie-s-h @pretty-pink-princesss @safixiovi
Just a heads up, this may be the last Miguel fic I’ll be posting for a while. Writing for him doesn’t feel the same anymore and my hyperfixation for him is slowly wearing thin. Im not sure yet though, but savour this as much as you can I guess. That and I feel like my writing isn’t good enough for the fandom anymore :p
Also reminder that I will be interacting and reblogging fic from my second account @lmaoyouwhore
#★— ayrus writes#♦︎— sinful encounters#❤︎ scientist husband ❤︎#← he’s backkk!!#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o’hara smut#miguel o'hara smut#miguel ohara x reader#miguel ohara#miguel o’hara spiderman 2099#miguel o’hara x you#miguel o’hara fanfiction#spiderman 2099 spiderverse#miguel spiderman#spiderman 2099#spiderman 2099 x you#spiderman 2099 x reader#spiderman 2099 smut#spiderverse miguel
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Smarter Than the Average Beer Boy | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader
Summary: After months of attending your lectures, Bradley has honed his math skills beyond his wildest expectations. A night out with the boys reveals just how smart and endearing your husband really is, even when he has a hangover.
Warnings: Swears, fluff, drinking, oral sex, shirtless Beer Boy, 18+
Length: 3100 words
Pairing: Beer Boy and Sugar! Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)
Happy birthday to @cherrycola27!
This is a one-shot to accompany my fics Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time but it can be read on its own! Banner by @thedroneranger Check out my masterlist
You were on your way to teach your last class of the day, and it was your least favorite one. When the class schedules were being organized for next semester, you planned on begging Dr. Rosenthal to let you trade this awful linear algebra class away for one of his calculus lectures. Because at least calculus was something to which you could add a little spice to keep your students interested, unlike this one.
Even though you already ate the snack your husband packed in your tie dye lunchbox, you were still hungry. You'd have to remind him to pack you something extra next Thursday. But as you were on your way to the lounge to quickly get something from the vending machine, you heard his voice.
"Sugar."
You spun around in your loafers and tweed skirt and saw your husband in full khaki uniform heading your way. "Beer Boy. What are you doing here?" you asked, giving up on the idea of a snack and heading in his direction instead. "I'm about to give a lecture."
"I know," he said with a smirk, voice all deep and raspy. "I got dismissed early, and I stopped at home to get you a snack. Thought maybe I could join your lecture tonight since I won't get to spend tomorrow evening with you."
You almost dropped your notebook as you wrapped your arms around his waist and propped your chin on his chest. "Are you my snack?" you asked as he leaned down to kiss you.
"Nor exactly," he laughed, holding up two small containers. "I brought you some homemade hummus and pita chips. But if you want to skip your lecture and head up to your office, I'd be more than happy to fuck you while I feed you."
"Tempting," you told him with a moan. He was always so sure of himself when he was with you, and it was a massive turn on. But when he grinned and started pulling you toward the elevators, you had to dig your loafers in. "I can't let my students down," you said with a little pout. "Come on. You can sit in the back and take notes."
"Nah. I'll just watch my hot wife in action. Take some mental notes that I can think about at the bachelor party tomorrow night."
You rolled your eyes as you took the containers from him. "You'll have so much fun with Jake and the boys, you won't even be thinking about me at all."
"Newsflash, Dr. Sugar," he whispered as you entered the lecture hall with his hand on your butt. "I'm always thinking about you."
-----------------------
Yes, it was fun watching you work. Your lectures were informative, and you were very passionate about the subject. You were also gorgeous, and Bradley wouldn't mind watching you do this all day long. And sure, he loved that you wrote a few problems on the board for your students to work through so you could eat the hummus and pita chips he brought. And yeah, he squirmed a bit in his seat when you winked at him from the podium as you licked your fingertip.
But the really interesting thing was the fact that Bradley was getting pretty fucking good at math now. If he could go back to undergrad studies, he might even choose it as his major instead of political science. Nobody ever really encouraged him to show off his smarts after his mom died. Well, besides you. There was something about the way you always recognized that he was intelligent that made him fall even harder for you. And since he knew what it felt like to live without you for ten years, he didn't mind watching you teach the same classes over and over. He just wanted to be around you.
When you asked if there were any volunteers to work through the problem, Bradley was able to follow every detail and come up with the correct answer from his seat. And when you finally ended the class, he went up to the front of the room and kissed your cheek right in front of the straggling students. "Any chance you can bring one of the homework sheets home for me to work on later this weekend?" he asked, stealing your last pita chip.
You looked up at him with adoring eyes, and it wasn't fair, because you knew what those little tweed skirts did to him. "You're really going to work on a problem set?"
"Yeah," he told you with a shrug. "Why not? This class was fun, and maybe you can check my answers and reward me?" he asked hopefully.
"If you want to be my top student, you better get them all correct." You ran your fingers along the front of his khakis as you picked up your notebook and started walking away.
"I'll be so good, Baby," he promised as he followed you out. He was planning on working on the problems on Sunday after he spent all day Saturday recovering from Jake's bachelor party. Tomorrow night was for the boys, but tonight he would be spending with you.
When he got you home, he boiled a pot of water for some of the homemade pasta he made and dried last weekend, and he started heating up some of his homemade sauce and meatballs. "This is so fucking sexy," you whispered, rubbing up on him in your tweed while you sipped a beer. "You are really good at feeding me."
He stole the bottle and drank some. "You're really good at everything else." When he tried to hand it back, you just shook your head and dropped slowly to your knees. He was already a little hard from all the tweed rubbing, but then you kissed his zipper, and his dick responded immediately. "Look at that. I didn't even have to do the math problems."
You grinned up at him while he sipped the beer. "Maybe this is just a little reminder for you to be good tomorrow night when you're out with the boys. No drinking and driving. No letting them get into fights. No playing beer pong without me. If you're good, then there's more where this came from."
Bradley was really enjoying the cold beer as you undid his belt and button before you eased his zipper down. "I'll be so good. I'm a hundred percent domesticated."
You moaned as his cock sprang free, and you rubbed your face against him. "I know." He was about to tell you he'd been that way since the two of you were college seniors, but suddenly all coherent thoughts left his brain. You were gently kissing his balls as you ran your fingers up underneath his shirt and teased his abs. "You're a very good boy."
His cock was throbbing and tapping you on the cheek as your tongue flicked out to taste him. "Sugar," he grunted before sipping the beer again.
"Hmm." You were looking up at him as your lips barely met his skin. "What should I do with you?" Somehow you were making Bradley feel submissive even though you were on your knees for him, and he tipped his head back and groaned.
"Fuck me up, Sugar."
"Gladly," you replied, and he felt your tongue draw a slow and steady line from his tight balls all the way to the head of his cock. Bradley watched as you took the very tip of his bouncing length between your pretty lips. All you did was hold eye contact as you sucked on him like he was a piece of candy, your fingers tickling the trail of hair below his belly button, and he was mesmerized.
"Those pouty lips will be the death of me," he whispered before sipping the beer again. "So fucking pretty." You sucked on him a little harder, and he clenched. Damn, you hadn't even taken him deep yet, and he was already eager. But he didn't care, because you already knew what you did to him.
Then you popped him free, rubbed your nose against his trimmed pubes before kissing his tip and said, "I love you." Then you grabbed him by the hips and let him slide all the way so he was tapping the back of your throat.
"Oh, fuck," he grunted, already thinking about you gagging on his cum. You shook your head slightly when he was deep, and tears filled your eyes as you sucked. Bradley gripped the bottle, his voice only a harsh whisper as he said, "That's it. That's it. Fuck."
A few more deep thrusts had you struggling, which was honestly so fucking hot to him. You were making desperate little sounds, but you bobbed on him until you gagged. And that's really all it took.
You moaned as he filled your mouth, and he ran his thumb along your cheek as you gently sucked every drop from him. "Show it to me," he whispered softly and you smiled as you released him. Slowly, you parted your lips and tilted your face up for him, showing off your cupped tongue full of his cum. "Beautiful."
Then you swallowed him down and kissed his drained balls once more before you stood and took the beer bottle from his hand. Casually, you took a sip like you didn't just leave him twitching before you. "Is dinner almost ready?"
He was still thinking about it the next night when he was out with all the guys. Jake was marrying Jessica in a month, and all he asked for was a night of bar hopping. Normally Bradley would have been very good at this, but he was thinking about the way he'd fed you bites of pasta while standing in the kitchen as you moaned over how delicious it was.
"Come on, Rooster, have a shot," Payback said, passing him some tequila. Just a few drinks would help him focus on the night with the guys. "Bottoms up."
But at first, the drinks just made him think about calling you to see what you were up to. Jessica was supposed to stop by the house to hang out for a while, and he wondered if she was still there. Maybe she left and you were already changed into his Grateful Dead shirt for bed. Maybe he could just get an Uber right now and go home and find out for himself. He'd slip right into bed next to you.
"Time for the karaoke bar!" Javy announced, and then Bradley had more shots in front of him before he ended up onstage, and he couldn't be sure where his shirt went, but oh well, it didn't really matter since his favorite shirt was at home with you, and it was suddenly time to sing.
But he did remember to text you and let you know he'd be home very late.
-------------------------
Having the empty house to yourself felt a bit like it did when Bradley was deployed. So in that respect, it made you a little antsy. But on the other hand, it was peaceful when you had Jessica over for some snacks and a glass of wine. It was close to midnight when a bunch of photos came through to your phone and hers.
"Oh no," she groaned as you scrolled through the images from Mickey. It appeared as though Bradley lost his shirt. Typical.
"They are a mess," you muttered, finally getting to one where the guys were physically holding Jake up. "You're going to have your work cut out for you tomorrow."
She shook her head but laughed. "I think I'll head home and wait for him. I don't know if he'll even be able to make it from the front door to the bedroom without help."
"Bradley doesn't look much better," you added as you got to the last photo where he was chugging a beer, the amber liquid dribbling down his neck and bare chest. "Oh Lord."
"Call me tomorrow and let me know how bad it is?"
"Yeah," you agreed, walking her to the door and giving her a hug.
And then you were met with silence again. You changed into Bradley's tie dye shirt and his robe that he'd had since college, but you weren't even slightly tired now. You glanced across the hallway to your office door covered in your own handwriting.
SUGAR LOVES BEER BOY
Working through an advanced calculus problem before bed would definitely help you unwind. You walked to your white board while you looked up a problem on your phone and then scribbled it down and got to work. Oh, this one was a bit tricky with lots of side math to complete first. The squeak of your marker was soothing, and by the time you got to your tenth line in the proof solution, you were yawning.
"Works like a charm," you muttered, capping the marker and heading back across the hall where you climbed into bed.
At one point during the night, you thought you heard Bradley stumble in the front door. "Beer Boy?" you called out, rolling over in bed.
You heard him slur, "It's just me, Sugar," followed by the sound of the refrigerator opening up. He'd come to bed eventually after he got a snack. You scooted back all the way to your side, preemptively trying to avoid him being a sticky, sweaty mess. You smiled and curled up, and you were back to sleep in seconds.
But he never did come to bed, as evidenced by the still crisp bedding on his side when you woke up again at nine. You stretched and climbed out from the pocket of warmth and reached for his robe before you went to search the house.
You started in the kitchen, thinking that being near the refrigerator might have been more appealing than the bed, but he wasn't there. You glanced out back and on the living room couch, but you didn't see him anywhere.
"Bradley?" you called out as you looked in the bathroom, but he hadn't even fallen asleep in the tub. You pressed your lips together as you poked your head inside your office and gasped. "Seriously?"
He was sound asleep on the floor, his shirt nowhere to be seen, and he was snoring loudly. An empty ice cream carton and spoon were next to his head, and it looked like he'd eaten a value sized bag of pretzels. There were a few more wrappers and a lot of crumbs on the floor, and you just gaped at him as he started to roll onto his side and look around.
"What the fuck? Why is it such a mess in here? I just cleaned on Wednesday," he groaned, hair sticking up at every angle. He tilted his head and looked up at you through squinted eyes. "What happened?"
You gave him an incredulous look. "Why don't you tell me?"
He continued to look around the room as he sat up. "I don't know," he replied, pushing the pretzel bag to the side as he cradled his forehead in his palm. "Last thing I remember is the guys making me sing Caress Me Down for karaoke. Where's my shirt?"
Your deep sigh should have been warning enough for him, but he looked down at his abs, shocked that he was only wearing half of his outfit. "Once again, Bradley, why don't you tell me?"
"Baby, how am I supposed to know?" he whined. "God, now I have a fucking hangover, and I can't think."
If Jake was also this bad at the moment, then Jessica might need a reassuring phone call later. Hopefully he hadn't destroyed the carpet in their condo. You needed to get Bradley into the shower and then put him in bed so you could clean up the floor, but your eyes caught on your white board, and you gasped. "Bradley."
"What now?" he moaned as he got to his hands and knees in the crumbs. "My head is throbbing."
Your eyes skimmed from the top of the board to the very bottom, and you started laughing. He was looking up at you, confusion swirling along his handsome features as you had to brace your hands on your knees while you gasped for air and cackled. "Beer Boy!"
"Okay, yes," he grunted. "I'm beginning to think I was actually the one who made the mess in here, but I'll clean it up. It's not that funny."
"Bradley!" you screeched, pointing to the board. "You solved my advanced calculus problem!"
Slowly and seemingly painfully, he turned his head to look and crawled closer to the wall. "I don't think so," he muttered. "I don't even know what all of that means." He was standing on his knees, and trying so hard to figure it out. "Holy shit, that's my handwriting."
"It definitely is," you said through your laughter as you gently combed your fingers through his messy hair. He practically melted against your leg with his big hand on your thigh below his robe. "I am... somehow really impressed by this? You got drunk, got a ride home at four in the morning, and then you solved an advanced math problem before you passed out on my office floor."
"Yeah, I'm impressive as hell," he whispered, kissing you through the robe fabric.
"You know... if you weren't so terribly hungover, I'd offer to blow you again like yesterday. Because this is something only my very best student would be able to do. And I love rewarding my best student."
You stroked his cheek softly with your knuckles as he stared up at you with parted lips. "Professor Sugar," he rasped. "I'm totally fine. Barely hungover at all."
"Are you sure?" you laughed. "You look a little rough. And you made a huge mess."
"Yeah," he replied immediately. "I'm great. Wanna join me in the shower?"
You bent to kiss his forehead and whispered, "If you think you can handle it."
"Hell yes," he groaned, trying three times before he was able to get to his feet. Then he took you by the hand, and you helped him down the hallway to the bathroom.
You pointed out the small closet on the way. "And when we're done, the vacuum cleaner is just hanging out right in there, waiting for you to clean up my office."
"Yeah, okay."
------------------------
Happy birthday, Nik! When you mentioned this idea, it had me cracking up. I hope you enjoy it as a birthday gift one day early! Thanks @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls and @thedroneranger
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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#rooster x you#rooster x reader#rooster imagine#rooster fanfiction#bradley rooster bradshaw imagine#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw x female reader#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw x you#bradley bradshaw fic#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#rooster bradshaw x reader#top gun imagine#top gun maverick imagine#top gun fanfiction#top gun maverick fanfiction#roosterforme#smarter than the average beer boy
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HOTWIFE ADVENTURES
nanami kento x fem. reader x higuruma hiromi
wc: 3.9k
warnings: nanami and reader are married and pick up higuruma at a bar, threesome, unprotected sex, double penetration, creampies (vaginal and anal), oral sex (f! and m!receiving), alcohol consumption, dubcon (slightly for higuruma bc he had a few drinks before meeting reader and nanami but there are consent checks), praise, some mxm action, fingering (f!receiving), light choking, anal (f!receiving), a photo is taken of reader
synopsis: your husband loves sharing you with others
a/n: for those who don’t know what a hotwife is, a hotwife is a married woman who has sexual relationships outside of her marriage, with the full knowledge and consent of her husband. here nanami and reader are married and he pushes for reader to explore with other partners (and honestly this is how is see my poly relationship with kento and hiromi starting)
You and your husband Kento loved to spice up your sex life in many ways but inviting a partner or multiple partners to the bedroom was the number one option.
He suggested the idea when you two were engaged and at first you were hesitant. Then after the first time, you two were addicted to it. You both had your favorite partners that you invited for multiple tastes, his colleagues Satoru and Suguru, your old college roommate Shoko, his assistant Takuma, and your former neighbor Toji. It was fun to explore and experiment but due to your busy work schedules, you weren’t able to indulge in your desires just yet.
After two hectic weeks of work, you both were able to have some freedom. Kento even decided to use a few of his sick days so you two could spend more time together and finally have the fun you both so desperately needed.
He walked behind you as you sat at your vanity and touched up your makeup. He placed his hands on your shoulders and leaned down to kiss your temple. “You look absolutely stunning, darling.” You lifted a hand to caress his cheek and turned your head to kiss him before pulling back. “And you look handsome as always.” He pecked your lips once more and stood behind you as you applied your lipstick. After making sure your makeup was perfect you stood and smoothed out the dress you were wearing. It was your favorite little black dress and you had the perfect heels to go with it.
“Let me put your heels on you, come sit.” He took your hand and led you to the edge of the bed then dropped down on one knee. He placed one of your legs on his propped up knee and slipped the heel on, adjusting the strap just the way you liked it and then he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your knee. He then repeated the action with your other leg before he stood then helped you to your feet. “My god, you just look divine. Do a little spin for me.” He held one of your hands up and watched as you did a 360 for him. A wide smile grew on your lips as you moved closer to him and pulled him in for a kiss. You held him close then pulled back after a few moments and swiped your thumb across his lips to clean off some of the lipstick you left behind.
“Are you ready, Kento? If you want, we can cancel our reservation at that hotel and have a lazy night in.” You moved your hands to fix the collar of his shirt as he shook his head, “I’m ready, my love. My stunning wife needs a reward for working so hard and you know how much I love these nights.” He was an active participant whenever you two had an extra partner, always making sure to get involved so you would have the best time possible. He removed his hands from your hips and you walked over to grab your purse before grabbing his hand and walking out the door.
Kento drove you to a bar that had just opened across town and you were excited. The last time you two went to this part of town, you met Choso, a local musician that was very eager to please both of you. You hoped that you would see him again or meet someone who would be just as exciting in the bedroom. He held onto your hand as you two approached the entrance of the bar and he leaned down to kiss you. “Remember our signal?” You pecked his lips and nodded, “mhm I’ll swirl the toothpick with the olives around the rim of my glass, then you come over and we tell the lucky person about what we want.” He smiled and opened the door for you, bringing a hand down to pat your ass, “good girl, I’ll wait on the other end of the bar, go work your magic.”
You walked in and you felt some eyes follow you around as you walked to the counter. Your eyes moved around to look at all the patrons and no one really caught your eye. That was until you saw one man sitting at the bar, his dark hair was disheveled and he had a tired expression on his face that reminded you of your husband. You watched as the dark haired male brought the glass of dark liquid to his lips and downed its contents before bringing the glass back to the counter.
You ran your hands down your dress and made your way over to the empty chair next to him. He glanced over as you sat down and he sat up a little straighter. You leaned on the counter and smiled at the bartender, “can I get a martini, extra dirty? And can you get him another drink of whatever he was having?” The bartender nodded and pulled away and you looked over at the dark haired male next to you.
“Hi, I hope you don’t mind that I ordered you a drink. You just finished your other one so quickly, I thought you might have needed another. I’m Y/N.” His dark eyes skimmed your body, taking in all of the curves that were hugged by your dress before meeting your eyes. “Thank you, I appreciate it. I’m Hiromi.”
Your drinks came and the conversation started. After ten minutes you were hanging on to his every word and he was doing the same to you. Each time you spoke or adjusted your position, his eyes traveled to your lips and your body. Especially whenever you crossed your legs, the action alone made your dress ride up ever so slightly and he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Now, that meant you could go for the kill. You leaned in a little closer and moved your finger along his loosened tie. “Hiromi, I’ve noticed how you’ve been eyeing me this entire conversation. So, I was wondering if you’d like to go somewhere private.” He watched your manicured fingers and licked his dry lips, “I would love to but I noticed something that decorates your left ring finger. Do I have to worry about your husband chasing me down? I already have enough problems with my line of work, I don’t need an extra one.” You smiled and swirled your toothpick around the rim of your martini glass. “I’ll have him answer that question for you.”
Nanami got up from his seat at the bar and made his way over to you. He stood next to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. “Hi, I’m Kento, this beautiful lady’s husband. You look a little confused so I’ll explain, we’ve had a little arrangement for a few years now and we like to invite people over to have sex. I can tell by that look in your eyes that you really want to fuck my wife and I have no problem with it, I mean look at her, she’s fucking stunning. If you’re okay with it, we have a hotel room nearby and we can all head there right now.” Your husband eyed Hiromi and noticed some striking similarities between him and the dark haired male. Hiromi downed the rest of his drink and shrugged, “let’s do it, I need to relieve the stress anyway.”
You perked up and Kento held your hand in his as you stood and you led him and Hiromi out of the bar. The hotel was about a 10-minute drive away and it would give Kento enough time to learn about your new playmate. “So baby, do you want to sit in the back with our new friend?” You nodded as you all approached the car and Kento opened the door for you. You took Hiromi’s hand and pulled him inside with you then Kento got in the driver's seat. He started the car and watched you through the rear view mirror, “tell me what you learned about him.”
You moved closer to Hiromi and loosened his tie more before responding to your husband. “This is Hiromi and he is a defense attorney. He had a really difficult day at work today so he’ll need extra attention.” Kento chuckled as you kept your description brief and watched as you pulled Hiromi closer to start kissing him. “Little minx.”
You were just about to straddle Hiromi when Kento parked the car in the hotel’s parking lot. Your husband turned back and smiled at you, “we’re here. You two should go to the elevator and I’ll grab the key card and check us in.” He got out of the car and opened the door for you and Hiromi then you both did as he said. You wrapped your arms around Hiromi and watched Kento as he checked in then quickly pressed the elevator button when he started walking to you both.
The elevator ride went quickly but it wasn’t quick enough for you, you just wanted to get started already. Once the elevator stopped you took the key card from your husband and led the way to the hotel room. Hiromi watched you and looked over at Kento, “is she like this often?” Your husband chuckled and shook his head, “it’s been a while since we’ve done this so she’s a bit more excited than usual.” Hiromi nodded and both men walked into the hotel room. Kento grabbed the do not disturb placard and placed it on the doorknob before locking it and you made your way over to both men, grabbing each of their hands in one of yours and you led them to the large bed. You gently pushed Hiromi to sit and moved to your husband before turning your back to him.
“Can you take my dress off please?” You looked at him over your shoulder and smiled at him before turning to Hiromi, “and please get comfortable Hiromi, I want to make you feel really good.” Hiromi started to take off his clothes as Kento pulled down the zipper of your dress. He leaned in and started peppering gentle kisses along each inch of exposed skin until your dress hit the ground and Hiromi sat back against the headboard in just his briefs. You were left in just the panties you picked out for the night, the black lace looked sinful against your skin and the fact that they were crotchless just made you look even more delectable to the two men in the room.
You turned to kiss your husband then turned to face Hiromi, you got on all fours and crawled over to the male on the bed. “Do you like what you see Hiromi?” You purred as you got closer to him and sat between his legs. “Fuck, of course I do. I can see why your husband can’t keep you all to himself, I’d want to show you off to everyone too.” He groaned and lifted his hands to your breasts, gently cupping and massaging them before he started to toy with your nipples. Kento watched as the other man toyed with you and started shedding his clothes.
You took one of Hiromi’s hands and brought it up to your mouth. You then opened your mouth and took two of his slim fingers inside, swirling your tongue around the digits before releasing them with a wet pop. Hiromi’s cock twitched as he watched you and he felt like he was going to burst out of his briefs any second. “I want to make you feel good, I’ll make you forget about everything bad that happened today.” He took his bottom lip between his teeth as you got on all fours again and leaned down more to start kissing along his thighs. Smeared lipstick was left behind in your wake as you reached for the waistband of his briefs and pulled them down. Your eyes widened a little seeing Hiromi’s cock, it was a little loner than Kento’s just not as thick.
You leaned down more and started to pepper kisses up the length of his cock before taking the tip into your mouth. His dark eyes were focused on you as you started bobbing your head. Kento watched you two and reached down to start stroking his own cock, the sight of you pleasuring Hiromi was setting him off in the right way. He gave his cock a few pumps before moving closer to Hiromi, his mouth right by the other man’s ear, “feels good when she does that doesn’t it? Sometimes I think she was born just to have a cock in her mouth.”
Hiromi nodded and his cock twitched in your mouth as Kento continued to speak. He turned his head to look at Kento and leaned in closer, “it’s not fair that she gets to have all the fun with me, don’t you think?” That was all he said before closing the rest of the distance and pressing his lips to your husbands. You watched as they kissed, a clash of teeth and tongue and you snaked a hand between your thighs to start rubbing your clit. There were only a few times where complete strangers you picked up wanted to do anything with Kento and you were glad that Hiromi was one of the ones that were open to keeping your husband completely involved.
They broke the kiss and Kento pecked his lips once more before getting up and moving behind you. “Oh look at this needy pussy, she’s drooling for attention.” He cooed as he moved his hands up your thighs and used his thumbs to spread your lips. He wasn’t wrong, you were extremely needy. He leaned in as he kept your lips spread and flattened his tongue against your slit. He moved it from your clit to your drooling entrance then back to your clit. The action made you moan and whine around Hiromi’s cock adding more pleasure to the dark haired male. He reached down to place his hand in your hair and helped guide your movements, not wanting to rush you just yet.
Kento loudly groaned and slurped against your pussy, he dipped his tongue into your entrance and collected more of your juices on his tongue. He moved one of his hands along your ass and spanked you as he continued to fuck you with his tongue. He moved one hand down to his cock and started pumping it to relieve the throbbing but it wasn’t enough, he needed to be buried inside of you. Ever since his schedule with work changed he wasn’t even able to fuck you, he hated it and now he was going to take advantage this moment.
Hiromi gripped your hair a little tighter as he started thrusting up into your mouth, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat repeatedly making you choke and gag. Tears brimmed your eyes as you looked at Hiromi and that just spurred him on more. “Fuck, you look so pretty looking at me like that. A mouthful of cock, tears in those beautiful eyes, fuck.” He threw his head back as he kept thrusting then pulled you off of his cock. Your mouth fell open as you panted, greedily sucking in air. Your eyebrows slightly furrowed as you looked at him and even Kento pulled away, your juices dripping down his chiseled chin.
“Sorry, I just felt like I was going to cum. I just didn’t want to cum inside your mouth, I’d prefer to do it inside you if that’s okay.” Kento smirked as he looked at Hiromi and patted your hips. “You know, my little minx has always had this fantasy of being stuffed with two cocks, one in her pussy and one in her ass. We could fulfill it for her tonight, what do you say darling?” You perked up a little at the idea then looked back at your husband. “We have done prep for it but we don’t have any lube.” You pouted but your expression changed when your husband stood.
“Good thing I was able to have some things already sent to the room when I came by to double check our reservation.” He smiled and held up a small bottle of lube then walked over to you and Hiromi. “Now, all you have to do is decide who you want where.” You looked at both men and the gears in your head started working overtime. You never thought that your fantasy would be fulfilled any time soon so you never put the thought into who you’d want where. You chewed on your bottom lip and looked at your husband, “I want you to fuck my pussy,” then you turned your head to look at Hiromi, “and I want you to fuck my ass.”
Both men nodded and you sat in the middle of the bed while they got into position. Kento handed the lube off to Hiromi then laid on the bed, patting his thighs when he was comfortable. You watched as his cock throbbed and twitched, awaiting your warm pussy and you didn’t want to make him wait any longer. You crawled over to your husband and straddled him, you reached a hand down to grip the base of his cock and slowly started to sink down. Even after all these years of being with him, it still took you some time to adjust to Kento’s size. His gentle hands gripped your hips and he helped you sink down, “just take your time my love. Go as slow or as fast as you want, I’m right here.” You nodded and continued to sink down with his help and once he was fully inside you, you placed your hands on his chest to start bouncing a little.
You heard the slick sounds of Hiromi’s lubed hand stroking his cock in the background. You continued bouncing, trying not to get too carried away but that fear was proving to be difficult. Especially with the way Kento’s cock hit your g spot each time you sank down on his cock.
That was until Kento gripped your hips tighter to keep you in place. “Hey, I don’t want you to be too sensitive when Hiromi fucks your ass. Are you sure you still want this? It’s completely fine if you change your mind. I just want you to be comfortable.” He moved his hands up and down your sides and you nodded, “I still want this. I just got a little carried away.” You smiled and started to lean down until your chest was pressed against his completely.
Kento’s hands moved along your back and sides as Hiromi made his way over, the lube still in hand while he positioned himself behind you. Kento’s hands moved down to your ass and spread your cheeks, revealing the tight puckered hole. Hiromi poured a generous amount of lube on it and you hissed at the sensation. “Sorry, it’s cold. Just take a deep breath.” Hiromi took his bottom lip between his teeth as he tossed the lube aside then lined his cock up with your hole and slowly started to push in.
You gasped and held onto your husband tighter as the other male continued to work himself in. The sensation was overwhelming, Hiromi wasn’t even completely inside and you were overwhelmingly full. When he was halfway inside he leaned down and peppered kisses along your shoulder blades, “you’re doing amazing. Just taking two cocks inside, we’re so proud of you.” Hiromi’s praise was mumbled against your skin as he thrusted slowly, getting you used to the feeling of two cocks inside you.
When your whines and whimpers turned into moans, Hiromi started to thrust a little faster. You moaned and held onto your husband tighter still wanted more stimulation. “Ken—Kento, please fuck me. I need it.” You looked at him with half lidded eyes as you moaned his name so sweetly, it drove him insane. He planted his feet on the bed and started to thrust up into you. They took turns bottoming out and pulling out and that made your mind all fuzzy. You dug your nails into your husband’s shoulders as they continued thrusting, feeling full on one end then getting stuffed on the other.
“I’ve never fucked someone this tight before, you just feel so good wrapped around my cock. Can’t wait to fuck you full of cum.” Hiromi spoke and moved one hand around your throat and pulled you from the security of your husband's neck, allowing both men to see the ruined expression on your face.
Then they both started to thrust in sync, ripping a cry from your throat. You clenched around them tighter, feeling the knot at the pit of your stomach tighten and threaten to snap. You were tipping right over the edge, ready to fall at any second. Kento lifted his head and peppered kisses along your chest, nipping and sucking at the skin. “Cum, I know you’re gonna cum. Be a good girl and just let go.” Your body tensed as your orgasm ripped through you, your juices spraying and making a mess of both men and the sheets.
Hiromi let go of your throat and gripped the sheets by Kento’s head as his orgasm followed. A guttural groan left his lips as he started pumping you full of cum. Kento followed soon after, emptying his balls into your cunt as his thrusts slowed down. Hiromi slowly pulled out and his eyes widened as he saw cum leak out of you. Your husband lifted you a little and pulled out of you leading to more cum spilling out of your spent holes and onto the sheets beneath you. He laid you on the bed and stood to grab some things to clean you up.
Hiromi moved to grab some water for you and brought it to your mouth to help you drink from it. Kento returned with a wet washcloth and his eyes widened as he saw the cum leaking out of you. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching into his discarded pants and taking out his phone. He turned on the camera and moved closer to snap a few photos of both of your messy holes then set it down to start cleaning you off. Hiromi laid by your side and held you while your husband cleaned you off. Once Kento was done he laid down beside you both and pressed a kiss to your temple then Hiromi’s cheek before laying back. “Did you have fun, sweetheart?” You nodded and smiled at him then looked at Hiromi for a response.
“I never thought my night would end like this, I just thought I’d drink and wallow in pity once I got home. But, I’d definitely like to do this again.” A smile broke out on your face and Kento’s. “Well once we’re all well rested we can exchange information and see if we can make this a regular thing whenever you’re having a bad day. And I have some photos to share with you to remind you of us, Hiromi.” He winked and you felt heat rise to your cheeks as you looked at your husband.
“Did you take another photo of cum leaking out of my pussy?” You lightly hit your husband’s chest making him laugh, “this time it’s your pussy and ass.” “Same thing Kento!”
taglist: @blackfire2013 @tojjist @suyacho @watyousayin @benkeibear @satmitsuplanet @punkgibsons @delirieum @enchantedforest-network
#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#nanami smut#higuruma smut#hiromi higuruma smut#nanami kento smut#tw:dubcon#tw:alcohol#tw:unprotected sex#tw:creampie#tw:anal#tw:choking
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First of all, I would like to say that I love your art! 🥺💕
Second, can I request how Buddha, Poseidon, and Hades would react if the (gn) reader teases them under the table in the middle of the gods meeting? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Thanks in advance because I know I'm going to love what you're going to write.🛐
You're really sweet anon☀️❤️ comments like this really melts my heart and lights up my rainy days💞 I really hope I did a good job, sorry if it's not good🙏
RoR characters being teased by their s/o under the table!
BUDDHA
🍬Okay, Buddha really didn't want to go to that meeting. But you forced him to go: it's been some time now that you've had the intention of spicing up your love life, something more risky, exciting. Buddha knows how to be lazy when he wants and often you have to keep the libido high, it was time to teach him a good lesson.
🍬Buddha always sits in the back, dark seats whenever the gods have one of their big gatherings: he doesn't want to stand out and wants to nibble on his snacks in peace. But not that day...poor Buddha didn't even know what he was getting into...
🍬You sat on his lap, your place of honor, eating a candy you'd stolen from your lover without showing up. Buddha wasn't entirely interested: he kept yawning, throwing some paper at the head of the minor deities, in short, the usual. But not for long. It wasn't too long before you shifted your position to straddle him directly. "What are you doing, bunny?" he will ask you, intrigued.
🍬His response came when your hips started to move slightly, using the excuse of getting comfortable. For a second, Buddha's eyes darted around him to see if anyone was watching, and then he thanked himself for choosing a fairly secluded spot; so, she decided to relax and let you do it, even though it was nearly impossible to hold back the moans.
🍬"Little bunny...someone may see us..." he whispers in your ear, breath hot and short against your skin. But in reality, he didn't mind being caught, on the contrary, perhaps the idea of being seen would prompt him to give the gods one last slap in the face, bragging about his fun with a grin, as his hands rest lazily on your hips.
POSEIDON
🌊The Zeus of the Sea had already left the temple annoyed: meetings between the gods were never one of his favorite ways to spend the day, especially if it meant enduring the shouts of the noisiest deities. You too seemed bored, especially given the judgment that others had of you, being a nymph and not a diety.
🌊Boredom was starting to set in, which wasn't showing up on the other Olympian deities, too busy arguing and gossiping among themselves to notice your arm moving slowly up and down under the table.
🌊Poseidon, sitting next to you, had his eyes closed, beautifully ignoring your soft hands wrapped around his penis; all he thought about was how long it will finish before you get tired. If you ignore her she will get tired, right? No, not this time.
🌊Your fingers danced gracefully, taking their time as they went up and down, again and again. Poseidon kept his eyes closed so as not to open wide them wide and glare at you, but what the hell were you even thinking? He hated performing romantic acts in public, even less sexual acts, but if he stopped you, the others would surely find out something's wrong.
🌊Once you return to his temple, as punishment the god won't even touch you with a finger, waiting for you to crawl back to him with an apology worthy of your crime. "Next time think about it twice, I won't repeat myself"
HADES
💀Hades sat serious, ethereal and focused on his throne. His gaze moved to everyone present, while he let his little brother Zeus take the reins of the meeting. The lords of Olympus had gathered as usual to discuss their realms; you and your husband had arrived early and Hades was about to turn around, before seeing his wife dive under the table.
💀He didn't even have time to ask you what you were doing, that the door of the huge hall swung completely open, announcing the entry of his precious brothers. Hades was shocked, but he pulled himself together instantly, sitting in his seat without saying anything to avoid embarrassing you. So, the king of the Underworld just decided to roll with it.
💀Everything was going well, at least until Hades felt the zipper of his pants come down. The god looked down, halfway between furious and frustrated, stiffening as your glittering eyes met his. He blushed noticeably as your lips began to leave soft kisses on his crotch and boxers, making him shiver slightly in anticipation.
💀"Brother Hades, are you all right?" asked Zeus, unaware of the other's difficulty in keeping silent. The king of Hellheim was biting his tongue, his cheeks were red and his breathing heavy, a light sigh sucked from his lips every time your lips massaged his cock; always leaving a trail of kisses behind. "Absolutely, dear brother..."
💀At the end of the meeting, Hades will forcefully pull you out from under the table, lay you down on the table and grab your wrists. His breathing heavy and his eyes misty with lust. "Did you enjoy yourself, little one? Such a cute face, but we'll have to work on that attitude of yours...bad ones deserves a punishment..."
#record of ragnarok#ror x reader#ror x you#request#snv x reader#snv x you#shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader#shuumatsu no valkyrie#snv hades#hades x reader#ror hades#record of ragnarok hades#ror poseidon#snv poseidon#poseidon x reader#poseidon#record of ragnarok poseidon#snv buddha#buddha x you#buddha x reader#ror buddha#record of ragnarok buddha
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The Key to Marriage With Bruce and Y/N Wayne
Description: Interview with Mr. & Mrs. Wayne
Warnings: allusions to sex
Word Count: 0.9k
Q: How do you guys spice up your marriage?
"I don't think we should say," Bruce said, looking at his wife with a mischievous glint in his eye.
"We could not name names," Y/N suggested with a shrug before looking at her husband. She always loved these kinds
"Alright, go ahead," Bruce nodded. That should be good enough.
"Sometimes we invite others into the bedroo- Oh, shit, are the kids watching this one?" Y/N realized as she slapped her manicured hand across her mouth.
"Dick and Jason, please make sure all of your siblings are asleep," Bruce spoke, looking directly into the camera. However, somewhere some woman's ovaries collapsed because she felt as if Bruce Wayne's eyes were piercing through whatever device she was watching the interview on.
"But, yeah. We invite others. Not in an open relationship way but in a community effort way," Y/N tried to specify.
"It's usually our friends. We have invited a few of our exes, though," He spoke fondly as he remembered the time they shared a bed with Clark and Lois or the other time with Oliver and Dinah.
"Do you remember your fiftieth?" For Bruce's 50th birthday, Y/N had arranged for a fivesome between her, Diana, Selina, Talia, and Bruce. At certain times, it felt like she enjoyed it more than he did but he was more than happy by the end of the night. Well three nights, considering that Y/N booked it on their private island.
"We had a time that night, as the kids would say." Bruce chuckled to himself. To him, it was one of the greatest presents ever.
Q: Y/N, why did you take Bruce back after finding out about Damian?
"That's a great question. I'm not going to pretend I wasn't hurt by his actions. We were separated for a little bit," She started to tear up when she remembered how betrayed she initially felt. She got over it eventually but it took some time.
"It was the worst five months of my life. I didn't deserve to be forgiven but she forgave me anyway. She never held it against Damian either. Even when she wasn't talking to me, she made sure he was okay with being in a new environment." Bruce reached for her hand and linked their pinkies. He never wanted her to feel that way again.
"Oh, don't worry. I had my fun during those five months but I do love my husband and he loves me," She nodded while looking into his eyes.
Q: When did you two know you were in love?
"The moment I saw her," Bruce lacked hesitation as he answered. He never had a doubt in his mind about Y/N. He loved her so much that it pained him to leave her.
"Bruce?" She questioned. She never knew that was when he fell in love with her. He didn't say 'I love you' until after eight months of dating and their first time having sex.
"What? It's true. The first time I saw you was in a coffee shop, and I knew then that one day, somehow, I'd be with you," He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Mine is a little less poetic. It was the first time we had showered together. It was just so perfect, intimate, and he wasn't afraid to be vulnerable with me," She said softly and began to twiddle with a knotless braid that framed her face.
Q: Do you guys have celebrity crushes or hall passes?
"Mine is Wonder Woman," Y/N said immediately. It was no big secret that both of the Waynes had a huge crush on Diana. Bruce was simply better at denying it.
"I don't have one," He lied but Y/N decided not to press him on it. His real celebrity crush was probably Zatanna and that's why Y/N was arranging that threesome next.
"You do know I would leave you for her, right?" She egged on.
"Oh I am well aware," Bruce admitted with a slight smirk playing on his lips.
Q: Do you have favorite kids?
"I don't think we do. I think the kids think we do, but we don't," Y/N looked to her husband for confirmation and nodded in agreement.
"They only really accuse us when they are trying to get out of trouble," Bruce admitted.
"Dick is somehow always around when someone is about to be punished and he's like 'You'd never let me get away with that'," She said mimicking her oldest son.
Q: Do the kids prefer a parent?
"I do think the kids have a favorite parent," Y/N said tilting her head while looking at her husband. Bruce snorted, before raising an eyebrow.
"Y/N is the favorite parent," Bruce said with a teasing smile.
"Maybe but Martha and Cass are total Daddy's girls," She rolled her eyes.
"They do have me wrapped around their finger just like their mother," Bruce gestured to his wife before ending the interview.
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