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sweettea-and-honeybutter · 1 month ago

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Take You There

A/N: I’ve been hearing in the streets that some of yall are tired of smut 👀 (my specialty 🥲) so I present you with a slow burn. I’m not sure just yet how many chapters there will be, and I don’t know how or why this idea came to me but I’ve fallen in love with the story. I also desperately need practice writing stuff other than porn because I have dreams of being a published author some day soooo all feedback is highly appreciated 💕

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Reign Adisa (black female OC)

Summary: Terry gets inspired in so many ways by a tattoo artist.

Warning: fluffy and angsty, no smut here so rated E

Length: This mf is 4.1k words long 😮‍💨🥴 my fault

Chapter 1

Wednesdays felt like her secret sanctuary, a rare calm in the whirlwind of her week. Most days, Reign’s life as a young Black woman running a buzzing tattoo studio in the heart of downtown Houston was anything but quiet—ink-stained hands, constant chatter, the hum of machines. Yet, in this moment, she savored the peaceful lull.

The community had embraced her with open arms, offering support, admiration, and more appointments than she ever imagined this early on. Clients lined up months in advance, eager to wear her art, while others knocked at her door with résumés in hand. Reign was already on the hunt for three more artists to keep up with the demand. It’s been a blessing, but it’s also been overwhelming.

So Wednesdays, Reign doesn’t take any appointments or walk-ins, she just comes to her studio to create, conjuring up beautifully original pieces to present to the world. Wednesdays helped her stay grounded so she didn’t lose herself in the fast pace of her career. They helped her hold on to her love and passion for her craft, it’s a necessity for her success as an artist.

Her studio was a reflection of her soul—beautiful, grounded, and something she took immense pride in. She had stumbled upon the space by chance, walking through the warehouse district one sunny afternoon. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed by smooth cement walls flooded the open floor plan with light, offering her the creative freedom to shape the space however she desired. Now, a vibrant neon orange sign reading "Lotus Tattoo" glowed outside, inviting passersby. Inside, the walls were adorned with art from local artists, while plush oriental rugs softened the industrial feel. Scattered lamps cast a warm glow in the evening, and cozy seating areas and lush plants created a relaxed vibe. Bamboo room dividers separated the space for other artists yet to join her.

Today she walked in and began her routine that now felt more like a spiritual ritual which transported her to another world. Opening the velvet mauve curtains to let the morning light in, lighting incense throughout the space to cleanse the energy, turn on her brown sugar playlist so soft r&b can set the vibe, and opening the wide glass garage door at the back of the studio to let the cool autumn breeze in.

She took off her crochet cardigan which matched her shorts, rolled up the sleeves to her cropped Anderson Paak shirt, and swirled her copper highlighted braids into a messy bun. Pushing her glasses further up her nose, she sat at her desk and hunched over her iPad, biting her pen as she imaged how to bring more texture to the hair of the Caribbean mermaid she was working on.

~~~~~~~~

Terry’s legs couldn’t stay still, pacing the length of his apartment like a caged animal. The space felt suffocatingly small, no matter how impressive the view of the city spread out below him. The constant barrage of honking horns and blaring sirens seeped in through the open window, filling his head with a cacophony that grated against his nerves. Overstimulated didn’t even begin to cover it. He let out a sharp breath, the simmering rage beneath his skin threatening to boil over. He hadn’t always been this tightly wound—once upon a time, people called him easygoing. But things had changed. He had changed.

He shoved his AirPods in, cranking the volume of "Killing in the Name Of” until the defiant shouts and pounding drums drowned out the noise in his head. As the music pulsed through him, he stormed out of his place, locking the door behind him with a sharp click. Instead of heading toward the elevator, he veered toward the stairwell, taking the five flights down two steps at a time, as if the rapid movement could outrun the memories chasing him.

Sure, everything had worked out on paper—the Shelby Springs police department was under investigation, the chief and a dozen corrupt cops were behind bars. Cases were being reopened, and lawyers from across the country were flocking to defend the victims of that backwoods nightmare. Hell, Terry had even won half a million in his lawsuit against the city. But what did it all matter? Mike was still gone. After pouring everything he had into saving his cousin, Terry was left with nothing but an empty victory and a gnawing sense of purposelessness. Lost, adrift, and suffocating beneath the weight of survivor’s guilt, he couldn’t shake the question that haunted him: At what cost?

As he exited his building, the midday sun greeted him with a mocking cheerfulness, bright and all consuming. Terry scowled, keeping his squinting eyes glued to the uneven ground beneath his feet as he mindlessly walked the downtown streets. He was so wrapped up in his disdain for life that he missed how people moved out of the way of his hulking form, how cops perusing the streets eyed him suspiciously, how birds scurried away from the sound of his thundering footsteps.

He walked for 20 minutes in a straight line before his mind finally went numb enough for him to take in his surroundings. He wasn’t far at all from his home, but this side of the downtown had a different feel to it. The buildings were shorter and wider, the foot traffic was less obnoxious, and beautiful graffiti covered almost every wall. He spotted a building that stood out amongst the others with its pristine alabaster paint over the cement and its glowing neon sign. “Lotus Tattoo”.

It had been months since Mike passed, but the thought of getting something permanent to honor him had crossed Terry’s mind more than once—though he didn’t need ink to remind him of Mike’s infectious laugh or goofy grin. As he approached the tattoo shop, he slowed, his fingers brushing the door handle. He gave it a tug but stopped when he felt resistance—it was locked. For a moment, he considered walking away, but movement deeper inside the studio caught his eye. He lingered, torn between retreating and pressing on, before finally deciding to make his way around the back, curiosity quietly pulling him forward.

~~~~~~~~

She doesn’t hear him walk in through the open garage door, so immersed in perfecting the fine details before her, and Terry doesn’t wish to bring attention to himself just yet. He takes soundless steps into her studio, as if the building itself was emitting a peace so relieving that he could feel the pressure of anxiety roll right off his shoulders. He took a deep breath in, nose filling with the earthy scent of warm patchouli and sweet jasmine. Walking further into her domain, his eyes bright with curiosity take in his surroundings-a chipped and loved on mug, the soft rug blanketing his steps, the petal shaped ceiling fans whirling quietly, and he chuckled silently at her grumbles to herself.

He instinctively removed his AirPods and put them in their case, snapping the lid shut and startling the both of them. Reign straightened her back with a gasp, turning so sharply on her stool that her glasses flew off her face and she toppled over, just barely catching herself in a clumsy fighting stance, knees knocked and hands in awkwardly placed fists. Terry, for what its worth, looked like a deer caught munching in the farmers garden, pupils blown almost wide enough to cover the steel gray, mouth open in a shocked ‘o’, eyebrow twitching from trying not to laugh at her horrible stance and the fact that her glasses slid right to his feet.

“Um…” Terry didn’t know what to say as he raised his palms to her, trying to appear harmless, “I was wondering…do you take walk-ins?” Reign let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and placed a hand over her thudding heart, standing more relaxed but still on guard.

“You almost scared me to death! Yes um-“ she squinted at the ground next to her, trying to find her glasses, “-um yes, normally I do, just not Wednesdays-“ she was caught off guard again feeling a warm hand on her shoulder. When had he even moved?

Terry stood so close that her nose brushed his shirt as she tilted her head to look up at him. He gave her a ghost of a smile and brought her glasses to rest on her nose, pushing her loose braids back behind her ears and studying her. “There.” His voice was so deep that she couldn’t tell if the goosebumps erupting on her skin was from the sound of it, or from being so close to him.

They stared at each other a moment longer, him admiring her gold septum nose ring against her beautiful mahogany skin, and her eyes darting between his plump lips and striking eyes. Terry finally cleared his throat and took a large step back, raising a brow at her. Reign blinked away the haze he’d created, her voice coming out high and breathless.

“I do take walk-ins! Not normally on Wednesdays, but what were you wanting to get?” Terry looked away thinking, and Reign used that as an excuse to look him over once more, eyes roaming his heavily toned muscles. He was undeniably handsome, like fine as hell handsome.

He looked back at her and she tried not to squirm under his gaze. “I want to get something for my cousin, today was his birthday.” she watched his eyes darken to a murky green as his expression turned somber, “I’m thinking like 2 fists bumping together, can you do that?”

Reign bit her lip in contemplation and Terry’s eyes darkened even further following that movement. “I can, let me just draw up something for you. It shouldn’t take too long, how much time have you got today?” He gave her another ghost of a smile.

“I’m all yours. I’m Terry by the way, you own this place?” She shook his extended hand and quickly pulled hers back, feeling heat rise to her ears and cheeks.

“Reign, nice to meet you Terry. And yup, only been in this studio a few months. I was working out of my home before.” His eyes were piercing, she felt see through, and turned back to her desk to start drawing something for him. “Gimme like 15, feel free to look around!” She called over her shoulder, and it took Terry a moment to move, far too interested in watching her.

He walked around her space with purposefully loud steps, mindful of not startling her again and glancing at her every once in a while. He picked up a binder from a floating shelf in front of him, flipping through the pages to see her drawings and creative polaroids of her work. He found himself drawn to her black and white pieces, struck by how realistic her portraits are. He flipped through more and more pages hoping to understand how her mind works, how she was able to capture a moment in time so realistically.

“Terry!” Her voice calling out to him had him coming to her immediately, surprisingly eager to be used as her next canvas. “What do you think?” She put her iPad in his hands and he listened as she explained what she wanted to do with the shadows and fading around the edges, but his mind was going back to the last time he fist bumped Mike, the last time he saw him alive.

“It’s perfect.” His voice was tight with emotions and Reign watched his jaw tick at holding back all the things he wanted to say. She wondered earlier if she’d regret taking work on her off day, but sensing the grief coming from this man, it must’ve been divine timing that sent him to her today.

“I’m glad you like it. Why don’t you show me what size you want and where you’d like it?” Terry nodded and started taking off his shirt, and Reign took a surprised step back watching his body flex. He somehow looked even bigger now. She schooled her expression to be professionally indifferent as Terry pointed to his right pec, opposite his heart.

“Here, and this big” he measured it out with his hands and Reign gave an awkward thumbs up, not trusting her voice just yet. She turned to print the stencil out for him and cleared her throat.

“Okay, we can do that. For that size my rate is-“

“I’ll pay whatever you want. I’m grateful you took me in on your day off.” Reign shyly glanced back at him over her shoulder and locked eyes with his very earnest ones. She gave him a small smile and continued on to prepare everything she’d need.

Terry watched her steady gloved hands come up to gently press the wet stencil onto his skin, he bent his legs slightly to make it easier for her, and she whispered out a thanks. He didn’t say anything, transfixed by her presence, her gentleness, the sweet jasmine scent he realized was coming from her. He unintentionally flexed his muscles under her touch and watched her swallow tensely. He wasn’t unaware of his effect on women, but he liked that she was actively trying to remain professional. It was cute.

“You wanna take a look before we start?” Terry nodded and she showed him to a mirror, standing behind him and off to the side, watching his face for any signs of dissatisfaction. She finally got a genuine smile from him, tiny but meaningful, as his eyes gleamed at the outline of the fists on his chest.

“I love it” he turned to her and she could see the smile had actually reached his eyes, and she returned it right back to him “I’m ready.”

~~~~~~~~

Terry, reclined in the comfortable leather seat, swept his eyes over Reign’s decorated skin while she worked on him, taking in the mismatched beauty and history of her story. “Did you do any of these yourself?” He asked quietly, referring to the artwork scattered on her body.

She pulled back from his arm to get more ink and glanced up at his face giving him a secretive grin. She was becoming addicted to his voice. It’s so deep, and quiet. There’s a heavy bass to it that could’ve been intimidating and over powering, but she could tell he’s choosing to be gentle and laid back. It was creating a growing intimacy between them that she hoped he felt too.

“Mhm I did a few of these” she replied distractedly, now focused on putting more ink on her needle.

“Which ones?” She liked his curiosity, and liked that he wanted to talk.

“Hmm I did this one on my thigh” she said offhandedly, now getting back to work, the hypnotic buzzing filling the space again.

He studied the imposing and fierce Medusa taking up most of her thigh, some of the snakes cut off by her shorts. The details were amazing, it almost looked like a Greek statue. Terry was impressed she did it upside down and it still looked stunning.

He hesitated a moment, not wanting to upset the tranquil environment she’d created, but he wanted to know more of her story, now privy to the fact that the both of them have a painful past. He wants to know how she got to this point of inner peace, he wants to get there too.

“Is it true?…what they say about Medusa tattoos?” She blinked at his question and her hands stilled, caught off guard, having gotten lost in the music still playing and the buzzing of her gun and the black ink on his smooth skin.

Reign’s teeth worried her lip, biting and pulling as she debated whether to answer that or not. She chanced a look at his face and his piercing eyes locked with hers. She felt like a butterfly in an empty jar. Delicate, exposed, with nowhere to hide. Not everyone gets a Medusa tattoo for the same reason, but she knew exactly what he meant. She simply nodded and refocused her attention to the veins of the fist she’s crafting.

She continued working and missed the dark shadow that fell over his face. He was trying not to imagine what the sorry excuse for a human did to her, he was trying to ignore the urge to bring the matters of justice into his own hands. He was well equipped with delivering justice, and something about her let him know that she deserved her vengeance. She saw his fist clench from the corner of her eye, and she told herself he was reacting to the carve of the needle in his skin, not the weight of her truth.

“I’m sorry that’s part of your story.” She gave him a surprised little grin, taking note of the gruffness in his voice she’d heard before.

“It’s not your fault. Besides, every protagonist experiences canon events. If this hadn’t been part of my story, I might not have this passion for creating safe spaces for people.” He stared at her face, her brows slightly furrowed and tongue just barely peeking out of the corner of her mouth. Most of her attention was on marking him with pristine lines, so her honesty flowed from her unfiltered.

He took in the entirety of her studio again with a new perspective. The healing warmth of the sun seeping in, the calming music lulling him into a state of serenity, the sectioned off booths that created some privacy for her clients but not so much that they feel caged in, the art on the walls depicting black love and black excellence. Damn. She did a hell of a good job creating lightness when the world can be so dark. He found that inspiring.

He wanted to ask her more but “Take You There” began to play from her speakers, and her voice softly hummed along, she was lost in her own world and he was happy to let her be. It was interesting watching her work. She seemed reserved and shy speaking with him before, but now her hands moved confidently, her expressions changed as she concentrated, her scent was positively intoxicating and her braids tickled his skin every time she moved her face closer to his body.

The pain grew more intense as she shaded a particularly sensitive spot above his nipple, and Terry groaned quietly, tightly closing his eyes and leaning his head back to rest on the seat.

“I know I know, I’m sorry” Reigned murmured barely being heard above the sound of the tattoo gun, “You’re doing so well though Terry.”

He tried not to react to that, but the mix of the pain keeping him grounded to her, and her sweet voice, it was getting to him. He hoped she didn’t look down any time soon. She had to roughly wipe the excess ink away from his skin before continuing, and he instinctively hissed at her through his teeth.

“I know soldier, we’ll be done soon” his eyes flew open at that and she paused to get more ink, looking him over. “I noticed the work on your arms. I’ve given my fair share of military tats” He nodded, forehead slightly damp from this whole ordeal.

“Do you wanna tell me about this one we’re doing today? Just if you’d like to share, I’ll be done in about an hour.” He didn’t say anything at first, just taking a quiet moment to feel the influx of emotions that bombarded him today, and she didn’t push him. Then he began to speak, gingerly revealing what happened in Shelby Springs, compelled by her peace to find healing in this moment. His eyes were clouded over, lost in the turmoil of his past, that he missed her frown of recognition. She’d heard about the horrors going on there in the news. Her heart ached for him.

She let him talk, and she listened intently as she worked, nodding and humming every now and then. He grew quiet and his whole face softened with his eyes closed as Reign drowned his freshly completed tattoo in the cold saline solution, gently wiping and repeating the process a few times.

She gave him a sad smile, so many thoughts swimming behind her eyes as she cleared the emotion from her throat before speaking. “All done” she tossed her gloves in the trash can, “lets go take a look.” She stood first, bending and stretching, her back popping from where it was curled over his body. Terry followed suit slowly, standing to his full height and stretching his arms over his head.

Reign looked away quickly, walking over to the mirror to wait for him, begging her hormones to relax. This was not the time nor the place for this, he’s a new client for fucks sake. She shook her braids out of their messy bun to relieve the tension in her neck as she watched him approach from his reflection in the mirror. He eyed her form appreciatively, not at all subtle about it either, and she played with her hands, trying not to feel so small next to him.

His eyes finally landed on his tattoo and immediately tears filled them. He hung his head silently as the tears fell down his cheeks and Reign panicked, not knowing what to do or say to help. She stepped closer, letting instinct guide her hand to gently rub his upper back. She peered around his body, trying to get a glimpse of his face in the mirror, and she watched his chest heave one deep shuddering breath. He brought big palms up to wipe his face before he looked up again, keeping her rooted to the spot with his sincere gaze.

“Thank you.” his voice was so deep and swimming with emotions, and she felt a lump swelling in her own throat. He wanted to say so much more, but he couldn’t at this moment, feeling a dam break within him. He just stared at her, imploring her with his eyes to understand the impact of what she’d gifted him.

She nodded, rubbing his back one last time before stepping away from him. “You’re most welcome Terry, thank you for trusting me with your story.” It was his turn to nod, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She turned away from him and went to find the wrap she would use to cover the tattoo, giving him some privacy with this new piece of his cousin he’d carry around with him forever.

He made his way back to her when he was ready, and she began the quick process of covering his tattoo in protective wrap, explaining how to take care of it and telling him all the things he shouldn’t do in the next few days. Terry shrugged his shirt back on as she cleaned up the area they occupied, and he could fill a pit form in his stomach. He was hooked on her already, and the thought of leaving her so soon was bringing back the empty feeling he thought he’d left on the outside of her haven.

He sent her his payment from his phone, including an incredibly generous tip, and cut her off as she began to protest being paid double what she’d expected.

“I’d like to take you to dinner, Reign.” She froze, rich brown eyes wide behind her lenses. He kept going at her hesitation, “I’m pretty new to the city, and I haven’t met anyone worth knowing here until you.” He stepped closer, invading her senses with his provocative woody scent. “I’d love for you to show me all the places that make you happy, and I heard the quickest way to anyone's heart is through the stomach.”

Reign smiled at that, it somehow wasn’t corny coming from such a fine ass man. “You got me there soldier” Terry smiled back to her and took her phone from her grasp, placing his number in it and shooting himself a text. He looked at her from underneath his lashes giving the phone back, and she swore she felt her knees buckle at the devilishly playful glint in his eyes.

“Is tomorrow night too soon?” She couldn’t resist his deep voice and overwhelming presence even if she wanted to, and her body had been growing warmer and warmer the longer he stayed in her space.

“I-I can make time for you” she stuttered embarrassingly at feeling the rough pad of his finger brushing her ear as he moved a braid out of her face.

“Good.” He walked backwards from her, hands in his pockets which seemed to make his biceps bulge, and he smiled softly at her “I’ll see you tomorrow pretty Reign.” he turned and she watched him saunter out the back of her studio, her breath returning to her when he was no longer in sight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fuuuuck I didn't realize writing something without sex in it was so hard 😅 idk if I have the stamina for a slow burn but I will certainly try, just know that the smut will come with a damn vengeance! Please let me know what you think! this is my first time doing an original character 🥲💕

Taglist: @teddybeerz @liatreads @eviescloset @sageispunk @planetblaque @soft-persephone @violetmuses @miyuhpapayuh @iterum-incipi @slutsareteacherstoo @blackgurlnhermoods @helloncrocs @megamindsecretlair

Part 2

#terry richmond x reader #rebel ridge #rebel ridge fanfiction #terry richmond x black oc #terry richmond #aaron pierre #terry richmond fic #sweet tea and honey butter #origional character #original work #Spotify

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fairuzfan · 5 months ago

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Intel Corp (INTC.O), opens new tab is halting plans for a $25-billion factory in Israel, Israeli financial news website Calcalist said on Monday, in a report that the chipmaker did not confirm or deny.

The U.S. company, asked about the report, cited the need to adapt big projects to changing timelines, without directly referring to the project.

"Israel continues to be one of our key global manufacturing and R&D sites and we remain fully committed to the region," Intel said in a statement.

"Managing large-scale projects, especially in our industry, often involves adapting to changing timelines. Our decisions are based on business conditions, market dynamics and responsible capital management," it said.

Israel's government in December agreed to give Intel a $3.2-billion grant to build the $25-billion chip plant in southern Israel.

Intel has previously said that the factory proposed for its Kiryat Gat site, where it has an existing chip plant, was an "important part of Intel’s efforts to foster a more resilient global supply chain" alongside the company’s investments in Europe and the United States.

Intel operates four development and production sites in Israel, including its manufacturing plant in Kiryat Gat called Fab 28. The factory produces Intel 7 technology, or 10-nanometer chips.

The planned Fab 38 plant was due to open in 2028 and operate through 2035.

Intel employs nearly 12,000 people in Israel.

https://www.reuters.com/world/middle-east/intel-halting-25-billion-factory-expansion-israel-israeli-media-report-2024-06-10/

#palestine

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peggyao3 · 2 months ago

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Relic - Pt. 8 "Rowing in Eden"

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC

SUMMARY: ✧ Dreams are messages from the deep ✧

A woman from the unknown comes to Feyd in his dreams and his nights become his days as he flees to the dreamscape to escape the nightmares that haunt his waking hours.

TAGS: 18+, smut, she/her AFAB FMC, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, Porn with Plot, Feyd-Rautha's black cum, Feyd-Rautha's big cock, Praise Kink, Body Worship, angst/hurt and comfort, drama, fluff, Frank Herbert would frown, some politics, implied/referenced (child) abuse ❗, Trauma, mentions of suicidal thoughts ❗, Healing, Strangers to Lovers, falling in love, Vulnerable!Feyd, Emotional!Feyd, Possessive!Feyd, Feyd is a sweet baby who did nothing wrong and I WILL pamper him, nurture not nature, Stockholm Syndrome but in a consensual way, lucid dreaming, implied/referenced cannibalism ❗, implied/referenced murder

WORD COUNT: 4.6k

A/N: Saw myself forced to split this chapter in half becase you won't catch me uploading a 10k chaptie 😭 Hence why the alternative title for this one is "Blue Balls" 💙🥰

Reposted from my Ao3 💕| Masterlist | Relic Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

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Giedi Prime, Day 4

Quietly, she stands on the balcony of her room, forearms on the banister as a stormy breeze ruffles her clothes. The wind brings no refreshment, it only moves the smog around.

The city below reminds her of Neu-Seoul paired with industrial power plants as far as the eye can see and post-apocalyptic wasteland, a planet groaning and moaning for plant life and to be freed of the human plague that festers on its crust, much like Old Earth. She is quite used to toxic air, but this atmosphere is a little worse even than that of her former home.

A rumbling crack had startled her yesterday while she was trying to inconspicuously scan the Harkunnin language and grammar from the audiovisual filmbook recording that was given to her. Her personal maid, a woman named Lilia, had reassured her that that was just the volcanic activity deep within the bowels of the planet and nothing to worry about.

The engineer from Old Earth has a slightly different opinion on that, but she had thanked Lilia with a smile and rewinded the filmbook to proceed committing the data to her chip.

Looking over her shoulder now, she sees Lilia's pale, bald head moving about, filling the wardrobe with clothes that have just been delivered. The Harkonnen woman doesn't seem as malnourished as the ones she had seen on her first day.

The relic doesn't like the fact that a stranger has access to her chambers where her sarcophagus stands, folded back together so that nothing visually gives away any of the heresy inside.

A notification lights up her virtual interface. The AI tool has finished compiling the Harkunnin vocabulary and sorted it in an appealing, searchable array. Now she only needs to acquire a filmbook about Galach and scan that too, so she can start cross referencing in her virtual, little lexicon. Her eyes focus back on the room and the interface dissolves when she takes notice of Lilia's pale hand waving at her.

"Your new pants, my Lady!" The maid lifts a pile of garments, some of them even colorful. The Lady had (unknowingly) requested colors which are expensive to import, the costliest one being purple. Of course, such expenditures are to be expected for the new Lady of House Harkonnen and Lilia had spared neither trouble nor expenses to ensure her wardrobe is as she desires. Being assigned to the woman from Old Earth, a place which Lilia had assumed to be only the stuff of mysteries, is the best promotion that ever could have happened to the maid.

"I love them already. I can't go another day with my bare thighs touching under these gowns." The woman steps into the suite, pulling the balcony door and the curtains shut so the color stealing sunlight is barred out. Lilia looks at her like she doesn't quite understand the remark about her thighs, though that may be due to the fact that Harkonnens, regardless of gender, appear to be completely and entirely hairless except for their lashes.

"Can I try them on?" The relic asks, pointing at the trousers.

"Of course you can, my Lady. Like I said, you don't need to ask me for permission for anything."

"But it's good manners to ask."

Lilia likes this woman even though she asks curious questions sometimes, such as how high her salary is and if she has health insurance, followed by a lengthy explanation about what health insurance is. She likes her because she talks to her like she's a human, which is typically something that no one above her rank ever does, save for Lilia's own husband.

The new pants fit perfectly and there is no need to try them all on, but she does so anyway because it's fun and it distracts her from the painful waiting for her beloved.

"When will Feyd be here?" She finally inquires after the eighth pair of pants which she keeps on because they're comfortable.

"I'm afraid I don't know, my Lady. The na-Baron has a busy schedule."

That he does, she grimly notes. He never used to be so busy in their dreams, she had him all for herself. After 24,000 years of sleep and 2 years with the Bene Gesserit, she only just got him back. Is it wrong of her to want to spend every minute of every day with him?

Lilia suggests: "If it pleases you, I could do your makeup before the na-Baron arrives."

"Ah, that's very kind of you, but no thank you."

Lilia seems to be the multi-purpose kind of handmaid, being a skilled seamstress and stylist who even boasts experience with hair, a rare skill set on Giedi Prime. Proudly, Lilia had proclaimed that she has a personal knack for medicine and trauma management without leaving but a scar. The relic still wonders if this is a commonly needed skill around here…

"Then I'll leave you to your own devices." Lilia hasn't failed to notice the oftentimes absent look in the Lady's eyes, as if she's not quite there. Although the maid is impossibly curious and precariously drawn to danger (a trait which she has learned to suppress), she won't urge the foreigner for stories or company. They're not friends.

The relic glances over when her handmaid slips out of the room and the open door briefly reveals the guard who is stationed in front of it. She can only hope he has been placed there to keep unwelcome visitors out, not to keep her inside. So far, she's had no desire to test it.

Neither the idea of leaving her Sarcophagus unattended nor wandering around the palace pyramid on her lonesome seem awfully inviting.

She returns to the balcony, forearms on the banister, and her expression flattens. Melancholy glazes over her eyes and she summons the interface to blank out the depressing concrete jungle that spews smog into the sky from roaring chimneys. The only improvement is that she is now wearing pants.

While she should start studying the Harkunnin language or delve into the Holtzman physics (something about it sparked vague recognition in her), she ends up loading up a serial to watch on her interface, denying herself the luxury to sit down. Because if she gets too comfortable, she fears she will forget where she is and break down as soon as she shuts off the stream.

Feyd watches her stand there, clothes ruffled by the breeze, herself unmoving in the grey light, in the toxic air. Her back is turned to him and for twenty minutes she hasn't stirred.

Carefully, he had deposited the three long-stemmed crowns of thorns on the vanity when he realized she wasn't going to turn around. They're the only native flower on Giedi prime, all thorny, dark-grey stems and white petals.

On quiet soles, he steps out on the balcony, almost breathing down her neck. All day he's been thinking of her. Every second apart is a little death and he had hoped she would fall into his arms the second he came through the door. From an angle, he studies her face, pupils dancing. She looks sad and he can't see why. For a second, he contemplates stealing the chip out of her skull when she sleeps.

But for that, they'd have to start sleeping in each other's beds first.

"What are you doing there, my darling?" A pair of toned arms encircles her from behind and she yelps, shutting down the stream and the interface.

"Feyd!" She attempts to spin around and face him, but Feyd pins her back to his chest, humming as he buries his nose in the crown of her head. She hugs his forearms against her stomach, craning her head to find his pale-blue gaze. Feyd's nose slides across her head and he kisses her forehead.

"You looked sad."

"Yes, because I've missed you." That is very much true, though she conceals the fact that rewatching her old favorite serials had nearly broken her heart. Her answer placates him for a minute and he presses the front of his body against the back of hers, squeezing her like he's seen her squeeze the stuffed animal of hers.

"How are you?" He murmurs.

"Good!" She replies a bit too quickly and inhales like a liar caught in the act.

"You don't like it," Feyd doesn't ask, he states, and disappointment reverberates in his tone. He knew this, yet his chest hollows itself out with a blunt carving knife.

"The place is just… Different than I thought." She squeezes the forearms that hold her.

"But I'm here," he mumbles and presses his nose against her temple.

"Yes, I feel better when you're here." Finally, he allows her to turn around in his embrace and face him properly. They're so close, he can feel the expansion of her thorax with every breath. Blue eyes lovingly trail over her face.

"Did your maid not offer to do your makeup?"

Her stomach sinks and she blinks quickly. "Don't you like me without makeup anymore?"

"No! That's not what I-" Feyd scrambles for words, cupping her jaws and neck. "I just wondered if she offered. If not, we'll replace her. You're supposed to have only the best maids and servants one can-"

"Stop." She interrupts him firmly, shaking herself as if to free herself from his hands, which can't be what she means, so Feyd keeps holding her. "Lilia is wonderful, I don't want her replaced."

"Hmmph." Feyd gives his agreement and wonders if she had ever called him 'wonderful'. Slowly, he lowers his face, closes his eyes and slots his lips against hers, moving sensually as he presses their bodies flush. Her spine pushes right against the banister and her breasts against his chest. All day, he's been fantasizing about this. Today he'll finally be brave enough and take her to bed, there's nothing to be afraid of.

But he can tell she's thinking, thinking again, always thinking so much instead of giving herself to him unconditionally.

She kisses him with closed lips, like a parting gift before she speaks. "There are… Things that I feel like we should talk about."

Feyd exhales a short, hard breath against her face. "Like what?"

"I can't kiss you without thinking of, well, everything," she sighs and gestures over her shoulder. "This planet is… I don't know what I expected."

"Then let's go inside, so you don't have to see the planet." Feyd tugs on her waist and she allows him to guide her inside, walking backwards and pulling her with him. But when he attempts to kiss her, she clutches his lapels and shakes her head.

"It's not just that. It's the people. You're keeping slaves to work at your palace."

Not only in the palace, Feyd thinks to himself. If she knew about the slave fields…

"No one is having fun, everyone looks the same and everyone seems to be scared for their lives!" She inhales harshly and Feyd's fingers trail down her waist and spine, proactively grasping at the fabric in case she wants to tear away from him.

A muscle along his jaw flexes lightly before he speaks. "Well you don't survive wars by having fun and being fair to other humans, do you?"

"No, but-" she stumbles. "That was different. We left Earth with a higher purpose, to save our species from extinction. It was logistically impossible to bring every single human to a new home."

"We also serve a higher purpose. To maintain our status and power among the Great Houses, we cannot grant every citizen the luxury of free will."

"But not like this." She clutches his lapels like she wants to strangle him, or at least someone. "This is terrible."

"Well, I live here," Feyd grates out. "I didn't choose to live here. And it just is like that." He had chosen to live here at an age at which one cannot make sensible decisions yet.

"But you could do something. You're the na-Baron, right? You could change something."

"You're right, I'm the na-Baron," he grimly states.

"Lilia said, if she gets hurt, she needs to stitch up herself and she'll be dismissed without recompensation if she finds herself unable to perform her tasks anymore." She looks at Feyd expectantly who stares over her head at the roiling cityscape out the balcony door and shrugs his shoulders. "Do you at least agree that the staff around here are treated unfairly? It is proven that employee satisfaction and work efficiency correlate strongly."

"I don't know," he grumbles and refrains from telling her that the correlation between the threat of a blade between the ribs and work efficiency can hardly be beaten. The relic takes note of how annoyed Feyd looks, like he's been talked into a corner. What he really says is 'I don't care'.

Slowly searing under her expectant stare, Feyd continues: "Sorry. But I don't want to change the world, I have bigger concerns."

"Such as the fact that I'm not kissing you?" She almost scoffs a little, remembering a moment which feels like a lifetime ago, and her heart aches in her chest, knowing exactly that's not what he meant.

"For example…" Feyd brings one hand to her face and caresses her cheek softly, fingertips moving tentatively from temple to jaw. "You didn't ask me about my day."

"Oh, Feyd, I'm so sorry." Her shoulders fall and she feels horrible for jumping him with her concerns, but who else could she talk to, who else could she trust? The grasp on his lapels becomes yearning and clingy, exactly how he likes it.

Softly, she asks: "Is everything okay?" The lingering sub question is: Did he hurt you?

"I'm okay," Feyd hums and a dreamy, little smile slips over his face.

"Are you sure?" She cups his cheeks and looks at him insistently. All of her attention is finally only his and Feyd seizes the moment, delving down to kiss her, cupping the back of her head. This time, he will not be deterred.

Further questions are muffled by Feyd's pillowy lips on hers, kissing her with such determination that her belly is flooded with heat and she whimpers quietly in his mouth when he walks her backwards. Soon the back of her knees hit the mattress and she sinks down, bones melting like jelly when Feyd-Rautha crawls over her like a big cat, his body as hard and heavy as it was the first time they made love.

"No lucid dream this time," he whispers against her wet lips and settles on her chest, relishing the feel of her softness beneath him. His fingers trail downwards with a purpose, stopping occasionally to squeeze her breasts, her waist, her tummy, all the parts that he likes. Calloused fingertips slip beneath her waistband and across her venus mound.

Oh God, to be touched like this in real life! It's been over 24,000 years. She gasps so loudly when he touches her clit that it makes Feyd smile from ear to ear. "That's right, we're finally together," he breathes against her open mouth, drawing small circles on the tender bud, though his wrist is restrained by the waistband of her trousers. "And you're every bit as sweet and wet for me as in the dream."

His eyes are closed. It's easier to talk to her like that. Feyd feels like he's 13 and having his first proper time all over again, except this time he actually wants the girl to like him.

"Feyd," she mewls, fingers curled around the back of his head, nails digging slightly into his nape.

"Hmm?" He hums against her mouth, tongue barely wanting to leave hers.

"Feels so good… Ahhh!" Feyd-Rautha's fingers have slipped further south, two of them sinking tentatively into her cunt and filling her up. With short back and forth of his digits, he makes her thighs fall open wide and her pelvis buck against his damp palm.

Shyness be damned, he needs to see her. So he swiftly stands up, sucks his fingers clean and pulls her pants and underwear (It's strange seeing a woman in pants) down her legs. While he's at it, he discards his shoes and suit jacket too, enjoying the range of motion his sleeveless tunic offers him.

Pale arms cage her when he climbs back on her. His woman shuffles backwards so her head lies properly on the pillow. Feyd would have ravaged her on the cold floor tiles too, but she likes it comfortable, and so does he, but only with her and only in secret.

He wants to eat her cunt until she cries his name, but her fingers have formed a manacle around the nape of his neck, pulling their foreheads flush while her knee nudges against his thigh, falling open for him once more. His fingers return obediently to the joy of sinking into her wet, squishy cunt and Feyd breathes wordless adoration against her parted lips, eyes hooded, cock hard, his chest a flurry of quick panting.

How badly, how madly, how deeply he loves her. He should finally tell her.

"Will you, ahh, eat me out like during our first time?" She whines, lashes fluttering open while her pelvis needily grinds against the steady pace of his hand.

"I'll touch you however you please, my Lady," Feyd purrs, thumb brushing over her tender nub.

"Why, ahhh, why are you calling me that? Lilia called me that too."

"Because you're my Lady Harkonnen."

To be his Lady - whatever that exactly means - fills her cheeks with warmth and drives her pelvis upwards, because she likes the way it sounds. "But I already have a last name," she pants. Feyd cocks his head to the side, fingers slowing down, and a foreboding overcomes her.

"You know they gave you to me as my bride?"

"Gave me to you?!" Her blissful expression dissolves at once and she sharply sits up, forcing Feyd to withdraw his hand unless he'd like to have his wrist snapped. "I'm not your property."

"Well, no, you're my wife." He looks at her pleadingly. "Or, you will be, very soon."

His woman puffs herself up and for a moment he thinks she's going to explode not with the bliss he had meant to bring her, but with rage.

"How come I wasn't made aware of that? Do marriages no longer require consent from both sides?"

"I thought it was self-explanatory." Helplessly, he lifts his arms and shoulders in a gesture of defense. Two fingers of his right hand glitter obscenely with her essence.

"It is not." She stares at him with wide, steely eyes and her fingers reach for his clothed knee, clutching it tightly. "Mankind really has gone back to the middle ages," she snaps. "No computers, and women are treated like cattle."

"I don't know what middle ages means, only that you are my bride," Feyd scowls.

"You don't realize how backwards this is, do you?" She tries to find compassion for his self-assured tone, the pouty lip and the stubborn eyes. "I can't believe you would…"

She shakes her head firmly, biting back disappointment. They never used to have arguments like this, or arguments at all. It used to be only love and comfort and desire and now she feels like her rose-colored glasses have been yanked off her face and replaced with a filter of monochromatic awfulness.

"I would… What? Want you as my wife? Of course I want you as my wife. You're the only one I'd ever even consider."

"No, you're not listening." Huffing, she slumps back down, knees pressed together. Feyd can still see her slick-glistening cunt peeking out enticingly between her thighs but decides to keep his hands to himself while his betrothed is so angry. She sighs heavily and hates how this last sentence made her feel - belly full of pulsing butterflies. "Fine, let's talk about this some other day and let's pick up where we left off?"

"As you wish, my Lady," Feyd coos, calloused hands slipping over her knees. Pleasant goosebumps break out all across her flesh and her fingers slide down to tangle with his. She's missed him so terribly, she could cry.

"We have protection, yes?"

"Protection?" He frowns and his woman's fingers freeze threateningly on his knuckles. "No one would dare disturb us here. I'll take care of you-"

"Protection from pregnancy, you idiot!" She almost slaps him square across the apple of his stupid cheek and her livid expression stops his crawling advance over her body.

Feyd flinches, eyes blown wide with surprise and he looks five years younger like this. Immediately, she feels awful and doesn't dare to imagine how awful she would have felt had she actually slapped him.

"But didn't you leave Earth to colonize your Solar System?"

"I'm an engineer, not an incubator."

"But we didn't take any precautions when we-"

"We were dreaming! Feyd, please. Don't give me an aneurysm and don't make me strangle you."

"Okay, okay…" Cautiously, he pulls away, glancing at his scared woman before he bends down to his discarded jacket.

"Thank you," she sighs more softly. She does want him, wants to feel him everywhere, on her and in her. Looking at the shape of his broad back and narrow waist, she wants him so badly that it hurts.

Feyd pulls a small device from the pocket and clips it behind his ear. When he begins to utter guttural words in the language she doesn't yet understand (Her interface helpfully flashes, identifying the words as Harkunnin, along with an error message about incomplete reference data), she identifies the device as a transmitter.

"Getting us a contraceptive," Feyd mutters when he is done and lets the transmitter vanish in his pocket. "Can I kiss you while we wait? We don't need protection for that…"

God, he pouts, he actually pouts and she can't help but open her arms for him. Immediately, Feyd settles on top of her, chest flush against hers. One thigh pushes between her legs and she grows aware of the hard length confined by his trousers, his cock hot and solid as it grinds against her hip with soft, rutting movements.

Their pleasure is short-lived. A knock on the door drives them apart, or rather, his woman urges him away like she's ashamed to be seen making out with her own betrothed.

"Come in!" She calls and Lilia enters, carrying a tray with two ampules. The woman decidedly avoids eye contact with the na-Baron and bows deeply when he takes the delivery from her hands. Without a word, she scurries away.

"These are quick and effective. We also have formulas with a more long lasting effect. These give us about twenty-four hours," Feyd declares and swallows his dose without delay. His cock is leaking into his pants and he might just go insane if he waits any longer. He won't tolerate any further distractions. Technically, she doesn't need to take her dose on top of his, but Feyd already knew she would have freaked out if she didn't have her own.

She accepts the ampule and looks like she's immensely relieved that they have contraceptives at all around here. But of course they do. The na-Baron can't go around and impregnate every pet he's ever fucked.

His woman's eyes are focused and he realizes she's probably scanning the ampule. By the look on her face, she is not satisfied with the result.

"So, the effect is immediate?"

"Give it a minute or so, but yes." Feyd regards her with hooded eyes and reaches for her waist. When she slips away again, he is seriously tempted to take her to a playroom instead and shackle her to the headboard, fuck her until both of their bodies are numb and her chip is fried.

The engineer climbs off the bed and squats in front of the cryo pod, opening up the BioChem compartment. Equipment that she is not the most familiar with unfolds rapidly in front of her, offering her a tiny workstation. Instructions race over her interface, accompanied by a voiceover directly into her head.

"What are you doing?" Feyd growls with a voice as rough as a whetstone when she brings out a petri dish and drips a tiny droplet of the supposed contraceptive on there. She can barely hear Feyd over the voiceover so she sees herself forced to switch it off when stomping footsteps approach her from behind. "What. Are. You. Doing?"

"Just analyzing a sample real quick. I'm no biologist, but the medical module of the Sarcophagus' program should be able to tell me if-"

"Are you serious?" He barks. "I want to sleep with you." His arms wrap around her waist and drag her backwards, face buried in her neck, lips warm and wet against her skin, nibbling and kissing. She just barely manages to push the petri dish in the slot where it belongs.

"Feyd, wait!" She struggles against his hold though her core floods with heat under the assault of his lips. This is how people end up pregnant - because someone's lips and hands felt too good. "Why are you so… So angry?"

"Why are you so scared of me, and fighting me?! It's just me."

"I'm not scared, I'm just-"

"Don't lie! You are scared, I can see it in your eyes. And you think I'd betray you and give you a faux contraceptive."

With great power of will, she tears her neck away from his lips and spins around in his arms, walking him backwards until his thighs hit the edge of the bed and his knees bend. He looks up with big eyes, pleading and angry, pouty lips parted just a sliver, revealing the inkiness of his teeth behind them.

Feyd is convinced that she will slap him, the way she looks down at him like no woman ever has in his life, but she only cups his face firmly with both hands.

"I'm sorry but I will complete this test. I trust you, but I don't trust anyone else. Do we really know whose hands have prepared these ampules?"

He looks like a kicked puppy, or more like an alligator with a currently closed maw full of sharp teeth. But she also sees the acceptance in his gaze and that he deeply admires her wit.

"Fine then." Wistfully, he lets the fabric of her shirt slip from his fingers as she turns away.

This isn't how she had expected her next encounter with the BioChem compartment to go. Squatting bare-assed on the floor while the man she's in love with paces up and down behind her like a tiger in a cage. From her interface, which is permanently linked to the Sarcophagus as long as she's in range, she selects the molecular analysis tool, giving some pointers by adding that the sample at hand is assumed to be a contraceptive.

Estimated time: 47 seconds

"How long will this take?" Feyd rumbles.

"Only a minute."

"Why didn't you say that sooner!" He stops the pacing and watches, finding a modicum of appreciation for the scarily multifunctional metal block that dominates her room. Surely there are other uses for the sarcophagus that no human in his universe has ever even dreamed of.

"Oh, thank God," she sighs.

Analysis complete…

Rowing in Eden – Ah, the Sea! Might I but moor – Tonight – In Thee! - Wild Nights - Wild Nights! by Emily Dickinson, 1861

A/N: In the next chapter they're finally doing it, I swear 😩

TAG LIST:

@nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @minedofmoria

@sebastianswallows, @charmingballoon, @flower-frog, @welliah, @aoi-targaryen

@esolean, @szapizzapanda, @coastalcowgirl35

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idkfindingmyself · 1 year ago

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~ g r 0 s s p o ~ tw!!!!!

( adding numbers in words so i dont get b4nned lol)

-i just cant get these thoughts out of my head about eating dead animals everytime i eat something:

- imagine how many birds, bugs, snakes got stuck and sl4ughtered in wheat h4rvesting / plant agriculture

- imagine how many feather & d3ad snake 0rgans are currently in food processors/ industries

- do you really think all factories are clean? at least ONE rat gets sm4shed into the food you’re eating rn

- nothing is really vegan if you think bout it

- we are literally eating organs from animals that were k1lled

- scientists still argue what is the percentage of animal field d3aths in plant productions BUT ITS NEVER 0%

- this is one of the most controversial topics amongst vegans so im not here for that im here for making myself fast longer

#grossp0 #grosspo #gr0ssp0 #tw ed diet #tw ana shit #ana meal #tw edd #3d f4st #ana rant #ana trigger #tw ana fast #ed bllog #tw gross #grossspo

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nayziiz · 5 months ago

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Speed | CS55

Summary: In a chance encounter at a gas station, a mysterious woman on a Yamaha YZF R6 catches the attention of Carlos, a charming Ferrari driver. Little did they know the journey they would both go on.

Warning: Smut, fluff

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x OC (Lola)

Masterlist

Chapter 12 - final chapter

The driver pulled up in front of massive industrial steel gates as a security guard approached the vehicle.

“Sainz for a plant tour,” the driver advised the security guard, who scanned his licence before proceeding to open the gates. Lola looked around, her curiosity piqued.

“Where are we?” she asked, turning to Carlos.

“You’ll see,” He just smiled, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

As the car drove through the gates, Lola noticed the sprawling complex ahead, a blend of sleek modern architecture and industrial design. The driver navigated through the winding roads until they reached a parking area. Carlos and Lola stepped out, and she took in the sight of the massive facility.

“You’re not going to murder me in an abandoned warehouse in Japan, right?” Lola wondered, her voice tinged with mock suspicion.

“No, mon amor, I would never,” Carlos chuckled, shaking his head as they drove toward the reception area. He pointed at the Yamaha sign above the aluminium doors. “We’re visiting the Yamaha factory today.”

Lola’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“You’re joking, right?” she gasped as the realisation hit her. “This can’t be real.”

“It’s real. I wanted to surprise you with something special,” Carlos grinned, enjoying her reaction.

Carlos’s smile widened as he watched the excitement grow in Lola’s eyes, her body shifting closer to the window to catch every glimpse of the factory. The anticipation was palpable, and he couldn’t wait to see her reaction unfold.

When the vehicle finally parked, they stepped out and were greeted by several executives, all eager to take the couple on their tour. As they walked through the factory, Lola’s amazement was evident. She observed each process intently, from the initial assembly lines to the final touches on the motorcycles. The efficiency and precision of the operation left her in awe.

"Seeing it all come together like this is just... wow," Lola murmured, her eyes darting from one workstation to the next. Carlos chuckled at her enthusiasm, happy to see her so engaged.

After the comprehensive tour of the manufacturing process, the executives led them to a sleek showroom filled with limited edition motorcycles. The range of bikes on display was impressive, each one more stunning than the last.

“These are some of our latest limited edition models,” one of the executives explained, pointing out the unique specs of each motorcycle. Lola absorbed every detail, her fingers tracing the lines of the bikes as she listened.

Carlos, though not as technically inclined, tried to keep up with the flood of information. He admired Lola’s ability to understand and appreciate the finer points of the machinery. Watching her excitement, he felt a sense of pride swell within him.

When they were left to study the machines on their own, Lola finally turned to Carlos, her eyes shining with gratitude and excitement.

“I cannot believe you did this for me,” she told him, her voice filled with emotion.

“Was it a good surprise?” he teased, pulling her into his arms, feeling her warmth against him.

“The absolute best, Carlos,” she assured him, her smile wide and genuine. Carlos grinned, clearly pleased with her reaction.

“There’s just one more surprise,” he started, taking her hand in his and leading her towards one of the motorcycles on display. The bike was a stunning, limited edition model, gleaming under the showroom lights.

It was a deep red R-series Pedigree, a motorcycle she had always dreamed of and he had seen pop up several times on her Instagram feed in the videos she watched over and over.

“This, mon amour, is a fully customised YZF-R7, but you already know that,” Carlos chuckled while Lola looked between him and the bike, standing firmly under his arm. “What makes this one so special is the colour. Its deep red matches what my Ferrari looked like under the lights in Bahrain earlier this year, the perfect scarlet red tone.”

“Please tell me you didn’t buy yourself a bike, Carlos. You scare me enough in that car of yours,” Lola quickly groaned, sensing where the conversation was headed.

“Hang on. There’s more to it than just the colour. It has my number right over here,” he told her, pointing out the ‘55’ behind the passenger seat. “It also has custom rims.”

Lola chuckled in disbelief. “Carlos, you’re too scared to ride my bike. How on earth are you going to ride this one?”

“Well, as a passenger,” he told her, his expression dead serious. Lola's eyes widened, and she burst into laughter.

“What?” she scoffed. “Carlos, no.”

“I had them put the number there so I know where my place is on this bike. And, you’ll have a piece of me when you go out on it,” Carlos nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. Touched by his thoughtfulness and amused by his logic, Lola shook her head.

“I… Carlos… this is, wow,” she was stunned and teary-eyed as he nudged her closer to the bike.

“They’ll ship it to your house next week, so expect a delivery,” he added.

“This is too much, Carlos. I can’t accept this, it must have cost you an arm and a leg,” she whispered, her voice too fragile to be any louder.

“And, of course, you need proper safety gear as you told me on our first date, so I have ordered you a custom red leather suit and a very beautiful red helmet to match the bike. I had them put your parent’s wedding anniversary on the back of the helmet, so you have them with you when you go out riding too. And, your brother's birthday as well. Kind of to have us all together,” Carlos continued.

“Baby…” she gulped, the tears finally cascading over her cheeks. He pulled her into a warm embrace, his arms enveloping her in a cocoon of warmth and safety.

“You’ve given me so much, Lola,” Carlos murmured into her hair. “This is just a small way to show you how much I appreciate you, how much I love you.”

Lola tightened her grip around him, burying her face in his chest. “No one has ever done anything like this for me. I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Carlos reassured her, gently rubbing her back. “You lit a fire in me the second I saw you on that bike before I even got a look at your pretty face. It was either the biggest mistake of my life chasing after you or… the rest of my life zooming past me on two wheels. And, I am so happy it was the latter. And, If I have to sit on the back of your bike for the rest of my life, I would, because you’d be steering, guiding, leading.”

Her tears didn’t stop flowing as they drenched his shirt. Carlos was a fresh breeze in her life, a reminder that even after a long period of pain and unresolved trauma, she could find something blissfully wonderful, without conditions, without expectations, just pure affection and love.

The bike wasn’t just some valuable thing he shoved at her to assuage her doubts or erase her insecurities and pain; it was a memento to keep her grounded, to keep her wheels rolling forward, to keep her going even when life threw everything at her. He saw her for who she truly was and not just for what she did or how she looked—wholly her, even the things she hated most about herself.

Carlos held her tighter, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. She looked up at him, her eyes red but shining with gratitude and love.

“Carlos, I don't know how to thank you. Not just for this,” she gestured towards the bike, “but for seeing me, really seeing me.”

“Just keep being you, Lola. That's all I need,” He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs gently brushing away the tears.

For a moment, they just stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, the world around them fading away. In that intimate bubble, there was no pain, no past, no future—just the present moment and the overwhelming love they shared.

“So, when do you think we can go for a ride together?” Lola finally pulled back, a small, genuine smile on her face.

“As soon as that beauty arrives at your house,” Carlos grinned, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

“I can't wait,” She laughed, the sound light and full of hope.

-----------------------

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos @notyouraveragemochii @heyheyheyggg @laneyspaulding19

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princessbrunette · 3 months ago

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random au’s that i haven’t written bc someone asked:

theboys!au where rafe is a horrible supe and the pogues r tryna take em down

vampire/hybrid/some kind of mystical creature!reader and human!bestfriend!jj who has to occasionally treat u like a pet and ground you when you feel yourself turning in public idk

industry plant nepo baby rapper rafe who makes jack harlow kinda music and doesn’t write any of his own tracks but claims he does

#🎀#they’re all making me laugh

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negasonicimagines · 2 months ago

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Allergies

SYNOPSIS: After you and Ellie take down a plant monster, you quickly find out why it was being so aggressive in the first place. OR An overdue sex pollen fic.

Warnings/Notes: Smut, Sex Pollen, Minor Breeding Kink, Telepathic Reader, Oral, Strap-On (R!Receiving Both) / This is actually pretty old. It didn't feel finished, so I held onto it for a while. After polishing it a little I think it's as done as it's gonna get.

You and Negasonic are both exhausted after that last mission.

“I have no idea why that creature was so hostile, or what it was even doing in the city. Those things usually stick to their dens in the forests, especially around this time of year,” she comments. For someone who tries so hard to look like a delinquent, she actually paid a lot of attention when she was in school, enough to have an internship at Stark Industries and a few scholarships under her belt.

Graduated students are still permitted to live at Xavier’s, and they even get upgraded rooms; however, they still have to share. At least you two don’t have to deal with immature freshmen in the communal showers anymore. That’s enough to keep you as roommates, despite your differences.

“I’m just glad it’s over with,” you say, punctuating your sentence with a sneeze. You haven’t stopped doing that since the end of the fight, when the plant-like beast was eventually herded back to its den with some minor injuries. Your mind control wasn’t as useful as anticipated, but due to the need for physical touch to even try, you got plenty of the pollen in your system, more so than your teammates, though they were also given a decent dusting. “We should shower.”

“You first,” Ellie replies. You head to the restroom.

Once the water starts running, you think about her. You two have lived together for about half a year now, and you still have no idea how she feels about you.

You two will watch a few episodes of a TV show you both like, share the same opinions of the relationships and plot points, and it really seems like you could be friends, but then later, sometimes within hours, she’s right back to her snarky remarks and cold-shouldering, like it never happened. You’ll accompany each other to the gym, or dinner, and get along just fine, even if it’s just scrolling through your phones and showing each other Tiktoks and other memes. But then, again, coldness. You don’t know what you’ve done wrong, and you’re one more of her little comments away from just grabbing her and learning everything there is to know about her maze of a mind.

No, not really. That would be wrong, violating. You’re just frustrated, you know that. You want to be her friend, maybe even more than her friend, but she just won’t let you in!

You finish up your shower, and return to your room, cozying up on your bed. Ellie’s already pulled up Dexter on the TV so that you can resume where you left off in your rewatch in anticipation for the new season.

Her shower is speedier than yours. Her hair is so cute, even when it’s wet. Maybe you should ask her what hairdresser she goes to.

She glances at you, seeing that you’re comfortable before pressing play.

“Y’know, Lila reminds me of Mandy Milkovich,” you comment.

Ellie looks at you like you’ve just announced your plans to glitterbomb Wolverine.

“What? I thought I was allowed to talk if we’ve both seen the episode or movie before,” you say.

“No, no, you are, but that’s actually… That’s an interesting connection to make,” Ellie explains. “You’re right.”

“Thanks?”

“Yeah.”

You watch the rest of the episode in a silence that’s actually kind of odd for you two. As the silence grows, so does a weird tension, each of you glancing at each other and trying not to get caught, but ultimately failing. Your skin starts to itch, but even as you scratch, it doesn’t go away. You even try some lotion from your nightstand, and that makes the itching worse. You’d tear off your clothes if Ellie wasn’t there. A strange thought trickles into your mind, urging you to do it anyways, and maybe even take hers off, too. You have an idea of what she looks like under her clothes, you had gym together in high school. Perverse thoughts continue to plague you, starting off as intrusive before suddenly they feel… Natural.

She doesn’t allow the next episode to autoplay.

“Do you feel… Weird?” she asks. You nod. “Me too.”

“Cool. Uh, what could be causing this?” you wonder, sitting up and turning to look at her.

“No idea, or… Oh, fuck.”

“Oh, fuck?” you repeat, wondering why she would say such a thing.

“When that creature is in heat, all other senses and instincts are dulled. It wandered off and was hostile due to unfamiliar surroundings and the threat we posed. As a defense mechanism, it covered us in-”

“No,” you realize. “That’s real?! That’s a real thing?!”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “It’s only gonna get worse from here.”

“The effects are documented?! Why didn’t they warn us?!”

“That specific species hasn’t been studied enough. We didn’t know if they reproduced more like plants, or like animals… Until now, I guess,” Ellie explains. “Well, at least we weren’t too exposed to it. Too much of it and you don’t really have a choice but to do certain things, or-”

“Speak for yourself, my mind control abilities require skin-to-skin! What’s gonna happen to me?” you ask, frightened.

“Well, unless you, y’know, you’re gonna be in a lot of pain. I don’t know for how long, again, this species isn’t well-studied due to its reclusive nature, but-” She cuts herself off with a sigh. ”I’m not the best person to talk to about this.”

“Considering you know so much about it, why wouldn’t you be the best person to talk to?”

“Because the more I talk about the effects, the more I want to prevent you from suffering from them,” she admits, finally meeting your gaze, and you could drown in the depth of her eyes, black oceans that are burning hot even when they aren’t glowing orange.

“You just said you weren’t exposed to it very much, so why would you…?”

“You really don’t know?” she asks, sounding almost angry.

“Know what?”

“And everyone was telling me I was being so obvious,” she scoffs.

“What?!” you ask again, exasperated already by her vagueness.

“I’m into you, for fuck’s sake!” she confesses.

“Is that why you’re so unpredictable?!” You’re shocked. Of all the possible reasons for her hot-and-cold act, you hadn’t considered this. You sigh. “Well, okay. If it gets too bad, help me out. I’m consenting now before my condition gets worse and you won’t be able to tell if I’m telling the truth or not.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Y/N, I can’t just hook up with you and pretend like nothing happened! I’m not like that,” she says.

“Who said we had to pretend like it didn’t happen? I’m interested in you, too. We get this over with and then we start dating or whatever you want to do. You’ll probably change your mind once you’ve been with me, though.”

“Why would you say that?” Ellie asks. She sounds… Defensive.

“It’s prolonged skin-to-skin contact. No one’s ever stayed after… That. They can’t even look at me. I know their most vulnerable secrets, and they know mine. And that’s with me trying to prevent absorbing anything. Once I… We… Y’know, that gets pretty hard to not do, and I get the feeling it’s gonna be even harder if my mind is only focused on one thing.”

“You warned them first?” she wonders. You nod. “Then it’s their own damn fault, not yours. I’m fine with that, gets everything out in the open before we get in too deep. Well, before you do. I- All I think about is you, honestly. I know we don’t do a whole lot together, but living with you, watching our favorite shows, all that… I love it. I never want it to end. I wish I wasn’t too cowardly to show it.”

“You’re showing it now,” you tell her, surprised at her honesty but wanting to encourage it.

“I guess I am,” she admits, soothed by your words. “Can I kiss you?”

You nod, though you’re a bit nervous.

Ellie ventures from her bed to yours, taking your face in her hands. She looks as nervous as you feel, but she goes for it. You kiss back, of course.

When you part, she smiles.

“You really like me, too?”

“I told you,” you reply.

“I guess I just wasn’t expecting…” She sighs and smiles again. “That was nice.”

“Wanna do it again?” you offer with a cheeky grin. She nods, and the two of you kiss again, and again, and again, until you’re under her, thighs interlocked as you both needily roll your hips. Her hands slide up your shirt, but before she gets to your chest, she asks:

“Can I?”

“Of course,” you reply, and she gets back to work, resuming the kiss while massaging your breasts and using her thumbs to rub your nipples through your bra. Your thighs squeeze around the one of hers between them, and you can feel her satisfaction.

Ellie pulls away. Oh no, don’t do that.

“This is really okay, right?”

“Can’t you tell?” you ask. Your hands were already cupping her cheeks, but you press into them a little harder, giggling at her smushed face.

“Oh, that’s what that is… I just thought it felt really good to be, y’know…” Riding your thigh.

We’re touching. I can sense what you’re thinking, to an extent. Surface level stuff, can’t go deeper without actually trying, you tell her without opening your mouth. And because I’m not guarding myself all the way, you’re able to feel, y’know… Some of what I’m feeling.

“So cool…” she murmurs, and you catch a hint of excitement at the thought of…

You blush, a sheepish smile on your face.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. Oh, wow, okay, I mean, I know you warned me, but- Wait, not like that, I want this still, just… I gotta be more careful.”

“Why?” you ask reflexively, but you know. She thinks it before she says it:

“I don’t want you to feel pressured,” like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. She puts her hands against yours, smiling again when she feels just how much more attractive she made herself to you by saying that and genuinely meaning it. You pull your hands away to take off your shirt, helping her with hers. “Wow.”

“I- I can put my shirt back on.”

She puts her hands on your hips and oh, okay. It was a good “wow.”

“This is pretty convenient,” she murmurs. “People don’t like this?”

“Just wait ‘til we climax, okay? You’ll change your mind.”

I don’t think I will, Ellie thinks. Nothing about her could change my mind at this point.

You gasp at that.

“I, uh, I’m sorry,” she murmurs, embarrassed.

You shake your head, the need between your thighs only growing with time.

Ellie kisses you again, reaching around you for the clasp of your bra as it gets deeper. She presses her hand against the clasp, and you know what she’s asking.

Yes, please.

Great manners, she thinks, and you can feel the satisfaction in it.

Your lips part so that she can take your bra the rest of the way off, and she next kisses your neck, hot and heavy and wet kisses trailing down to your chest.

She feels pleasure blossom from every kiss and can’t help but smirk before she finally kisses one of your nipples, sucking on it and flicking her tongue and-

“Oh, fuck, Ellie, I- Ha, you- thank you, oh,” you whimper, squirming underneath her.

Sensitive, huh? I guess that’s to be expected, with the pollen and all. I wonder if she’d mind me writing a research article about this. Mm, so soft.

“You can do whatever you want as long as you keep doing that,” you tell her.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Ellie pulls away to say, and you whine. “Oh, right, just- Thoughts, y’know, that’s gotta be distracting.”

“You’re not my mindless sex slave,” you insist.

Would be if you asked, she flirts.

You can’t help but giggle at that, planting a kiss on her forehead.

She resumes her work, switching to your other breast while still stimulating the one she was before with her fingers. You grind yourself against her thigh.

Fuck, that’s so hot. I didn’t even know I was capable of being this happy, or horny, for that matter. Oh, she’s perfect. I knew she would be.

“Well, that’s a kink I didn’t know I had,” you breathe.

“What?”

“Praise kink.”

“Oh,” Ellie chuckles. “What, didn’t the others… think stuff…like… that?” Ellie’s question gets weaker as she feels… Feels that they didn’t. It was never as loving, it was just shallow, physical thoughts. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. We’re together now.”

“We are,” Ellie agrees. “It sucks that you got sick, but… I’m glad this is working out for the best.”

For now, that scared little part of you speaks up.

Ellie’s kisses trail down, but she stops once she feels a different concern.

“I don’t care if you’re not totally bare down there; do I look like the kind of girl who is?”

“Fair enough,” you whisper, anxiety threatening to overwhelm you. She rests her head against your stomach, hugging you.

We don’t have to do this. We don’t. I can try and get you sedatives, or I can sleep over at Yukio’s or Wade’s and let you deal with this on your own. But I want to, if you want to. We can still be together either way, or if you don’t want to be together, we can just try and forget about this. It’s really up to you.

“I want to,” you reply. “I just- I really like you, and I don’t want you to stop liking me because of this.”

“Okay. I feel pretty confident that I’m gonna feel the same way about you that I did before, it’s already getting stronger. I like knowing what’s going on in your head. I like that you know what’s going on in mine. Makes the whole communication thing a million times easier, which is good, ‘cause I kinda suck at it most of the time.”

“Okay.”

I’m literally about to burst, please, oh, please, can we get back to it?

Ellie can’t help but grin.

“Yeah, yeah, of course.”

She pulls your bottoms and underwear down in one clunky motion, you’re not really sure if your shimmying is helping or not. She props your legs open and you can’t help but cover your face, especially as her filthy and lovestruck thoughts seep into your skin. You’re blushing so hard right now, you can feel it.

“You’re- You know what I think,” Ellie murmurs. “Do you still want…?”

You nod fervently, and she chuckles. She inches down and gives a few experimental licks and kisses, humming with delight as you shudder and whimper. She finds her niche flicking her tongue against your clit at a rapid pace.

She tastes amazing, fuck. I just need to make her feel good, she thinks. You’re done for.

You shake underneath her, she’s like a force of nature. There’s no fighting, there’s not even a way to help. You just lay there and take it, tangling your hands in the sheets. She moves them to her hair, and you twist your fingers in it, squeezing more than you ever actually pull it. You’d hate to accidentally hurt her.

“F-Fuck, Ellie, I…” She’s doing the absolute most, or so you thought. She slides a couple fingers inside and curls them. You’re damn near sobbing, you’re so sensitive already and then she just… You pitifully whimper and whine as you get closer and closer. “I- I-”

She hums with satisfaction, continuing to flick and swirl her tongue furiously until you finish. And now, you’ll see how she takes it.

“Whoa,” she breathes after working you through your orgasm. “That was…” She smiles.

“What?” you blurt. She’s still smiling. She’s smiling?! “What did you see?”

“I mean, first of all, you weren’t kidding when you said wait ‘til we climax. Second of all… It was you. It was like your mind just completely opened up and sucked me in. I don’t see how anyone wouldn’t love that. To see all of it, to know you so much better. Maybe they were just intimidated.”

“Maybe don’t include that part in your paper.”

She grabs your hand, pressing it against her cheek.

“Your turn. It’s okay. Whatever you want to know or see, it’s yours. It’s only fair.”

You accept her offer. She has a loving family but constantly feels overshadowed by her older sister. Her first pet was a middle-aged corn snake – her cousin moved away for college when she was ten and entrusted her with its care. It died on her fifteenth birthday and while its lifespan was normal, maybe even exceptionally long, she’s never really had a good birthday since.

Her first crush was a girl with red hair and freckles for days. Her first love was Yukio, though she regrets never really showing it the way she should’ve when they dated. She doesn’t want to make the same mistakes with you.

You find her mental list of your favorite things, playing through the memories of her hearing you say they were your favorite or of her simply observing the choices you make. You start taking note of her own favorite things that you haven’t discovered yet. You dig through her kinks and fantasies a little, not surprised at what you find.

You continue to gently explore her mind, creeping down dark hallways of fear and depression and anger; traipsing through meadows of her most pleasant memories, a surprising amount of them with you.

You slip back out, and she smiles nervously.

“So…” she starts, but doesn’t know how to continue.

“So,” you reply, smiling with her. “That was nice. A lot more peaceful than I was expecting, not gonna lie.”

Ellie chuckles at that, and you get off the bed, legs wobbly but still functional enough for you to open the closet and grab the drawstring bag tucked in the back.

You place it on the bed.

“Take your pick, it’s all good,” you tell her, but she’s still stunned at the fact that you knew where it was. “Doesn’t freak you out too much, does it?”

“I’m just surprised you went there.”

“Didn’t you?” you ask.

“Yeah, but- But you’re- I guess what I’m really saying is that I’m still surprised you’re attracted to me, I didn’t think I’d be your type.”

“You didn’t?”

“Well, I guess- I mean, those people you dated, I never saw them, so I didn’t have anyone to really compare myself to in terms of what you might like.”

“I like you.”

“I like you, too,” she replies with a chuckle. “Are you still-”

“Yes, yes, dear god, yes,” you quickly reply. You weren’t gonna say anything as you’re glad to be having this talk, but the pain, the hunger has slowly built back up. “How long do you think this is gonna last?”

Ellie fishes through her bag, pulling out the one you were hoping for and spraying it down with a specialized cleaner before carefully wiping it off with a tissue. She attaches it to a harness before shucking her jeans and putting on the harness with surprising grace and speed.

“I don’t know, but I’m here. As long as you want me.”

You kiss her, tangling your hands in her hair. Her hands rest on your thighs, asking permission without opening her mouth. You part from the kiss to nod before resuming. She slides two fingers in, pumping them and reveling in the way you twitch and squirm with sensitivity. She pulls them out; you pout. She can’t hold back a smirk as she tastes you on her fingers, using her other hand to carefully line herself up with your entrance.

Ellie eases in, torturously slow. You wrap your legs around her and plunge the toy the rest of the way in.

“Needy, are we?”

“You already know that,” you pitifully whimper, and her cocky expression fades into one of sympathy.

“Would it be better if you got on top? So you can set the pace?”

“Maybe later, if you get tired.” For now, I just want you to pound me until I can’t take it anymore and then some.

A chill of excitement rolls down Ellie’s spine.

Is that so?

You nod, rocking your hips. She snatches them, and you still. She feels the way your stomach does a flip like you’re at the top of a rollercoaster; that brief thrilling moment just before racing down the track.

She hopes she makes you scream, too.

“Can’t do that if you don’t fucking move,” you remark, getting even more impatient. Under normal circumstances, that would earn you bondage and maybe even a smack somewhere, but Ellie knows you literally need her to fuck you as the effects of the pollen grow stronger. You may have made the remark about her not being a mindless sex slave, but she wouldn’t be surprised if you were by the end of this.

Gladly.

That makes her blush, before she finally gets to work. She warms up with a steady pace, but the thrusts quickly become savage, almost clumsy with how fast and hard she’s going. Every time she hits that spot, you gasp or moan or whine or whimper, nails digging into her shoulders, her back, whatever you can get your hands on as you cling for dear life.

You get close once more, fairly quickly, but you need a little more. What you don’t need are spoken words, though. Ellie reaches for her bag and fishes out a wand, wetting the head of it with her mouth before handing it to you. The feeling of desperate gratitude flows from you to her through every inch of touching skin, and she grins, smooching your forehead.

The hum of the vibrator is simply white noise compared to the symphony of sounds the two of you are making. Ellie already enjoys topping damn near enough to finish untouched, but feeling echoes of your pleasure only intensifies it.

You cover your mouth as your eyes tear up and clench shut, but she tears the hand off, pinning it to the bed.

“It’s embarrassing,” you whine.

“What is? That you’re enjoying this?”

You pant, unable to get the words out of your mouth, but she knows what you’re saying. She returns her hand to your hip, letting yours free.

No, not that, just… I’m being so fucking loud and shrill and my face looks so-

You know I don’t think that, she cuts off your negative thoughts. You’ll have to work on that together in the future. If you don’t believe her thoughts, maybe she’ll have to show you. Wouldn’t that be something? You reverse cowgirl in front of a mirror with her hand on your throat and another on your hip while she rocks up into you? You’d blush so much, it’d be so cute. And you wouldn’t be able to look away, she’d grab you by your cheeks and show you just how fucking sexy you are when you-

The grip of your legs tightens around her, forcing her as deep as she can go while you unravel on that synthetic extension of her, sobbing with sensitivity. You’ve lost control again and Ellie’s right there with you, gasping and swearing and surely leaving bruises on your hips with how tightly she’s gripping them.

“Oh, please don’t stop,” you beg.

“Gotta loosen your legs a little, babe,” she reminds you, and you immediately do, a stunned expression on your face that confuses her.

“You called me babe,” you coo.

“I’m literally inside you,” she replies with a scoff, cheeks heating up even more at how ridiculously adorable you are. “One more round like that and then you’re gonna have to ride me.”

“Fine by me.”

Ellie resumes her motions from before, but this time you’re not as interactive, you can barely hold the vibrator in place, let alone do anything else. She’s fucking the life out of you and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

She grins at that thought, taking a pause to kiss you again.

Perfect, oh, so perfect. And all mine.

She returns to her merciless pace, now grabbing your hips and dragging them down to meet her motions sooner. Your whole body ripples, chest bouncing up and down as she slams inside you, your moans punctuating every thrust.

“C- C-” you pant, “Cl- Clo…”

Ellie shushes you comfortingly, not wanting you to waste your energy.

“I- Ha, I, Oh… Oh, please, Ellie, I-” your breath catches in your throat.

“I know, baby, I know. It’s okay,” she reassures you.

You keep panting, taking all she has to offer as loving and lustful thoughts flow back and forth between you. You hit that perfect peak with a sob of pleasure, and Ellie becomes weaker as she tries to work you both through it. Oh, that won’t do.

Words aren’t necessary. She pulls out, and the emptiness is soul-crushing. The issue is quickly resolved by readjusting your positions as planned, fuck, it feels so much bigger like this.

She caresses your thighs, her thoughts jumbled to the point where they’re not even words anymore, just feelings of desire and satisfaction and gratitude and admiration and…

Love.

Love, all-encompassing, stronger than anything you’ve ever experienced.

“Wow,” you sigh.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Ellie says softly.

“I hate to rush things, this is- It’s important, y’know? Pretty clear where we stand after this, and- And I-”

“We can definitely have a do-over, if you want… But so far, we’re enjoying ourselves, and isn’t that what matters?”

“Yeah,” you whimper. “Let me just-“

“I’ve got it,” she says, taking the still-moving wand from your hand, which is trembling just as much. “Just take what you need, babe.”

She holds it in place for you as you rock your hips, finding that perfect angle and riding the waves. Somewhere in the haze you find her other hand and squeeze it as tightly as you’re clenching your eyes shut.

You continue that way; words don’t need to be exchanged, just uncontrollable moans and thoughts that are sweet, dirty, or both as orgasm after orgasm washes over you. You’re drowning.

You’re exhausted and overstimulated, but fuck, you need it. You need it so bad.

Suddenly, though, Ellie snatches your hips, forcing you to still.

“Y/N. Y/N, breathe.”

“What?” you respond, panting. Oh, that’s right. That’s your name. You’d almost forgotten.

“Lay down,” she instructs you.

“But- But I…”

“You’re on the verge of passing out. Lay down, and breathe.”

“I need…”

“Lay on your side. I’ll take it from here, at least for a little while,” she insists. “I’ll stay inside you so we can sleep.”

You force yourself up and off of the strap, collapsing onto the bed in a curled-up ball of pain and sobs and need. There’s not enough words to describe how it feels to be so empty, the pain is like your heart’s been put in a blender both literally and metaphorically.

Ellie spoons you, reentering you as soon as she can get properly realigned.

You sigh in relief.

“Is that what you need the most, babe? For me to be inside you?”

“Yeah,” you pitifully reply.

“Then we’ll stay like this and try to get some rest.” She caresses the curve of your waist and it’s like you’re being gently electrocuted; tingling chills trickle out from every millimeter of touching skin. You shiver, and Ellie manages to get a blanket over the two of you, mostly using her feet. Normally, you’d get a good chuckle out of such antics. You’re too blissed out for it to even register, though. You were in a cold sweat before, and now you’re in a warm embrace with a blanket that feels softer than ever against your bare skin.

She’s still shaking. She needs water, but I can’t exactly leave. But who could come here? Maybe Yukio, but that’d be awkward, even if we’re friends now. Wade? Oh, fuck no.

“I’ll be alright,” you mumble.

“You almost fainted. You need something in you.”

“I already have something in me,” you reply, the most adorable mix of sleepy and smug as you teasingly rock your hips. Ellie scoffs.

“Fine. But as soon as this wears off-”

“I know,” you hum. “Let’s just sleep now. You’re- You’re a very good big spoon.”

“Thanks. Was there anything you didn’t like, aside from the obvious?”

“Not that I can think of.”

“Anything you liked in particular?”

“Your thoughts were very sweet. And I like that you talked to me, y’know, communicated a lot and made sure I was okay.”

“That’s kind of the bare minimum.”

“I guess. What about you? Likes and dislikes?”

“Fuck, you’re… You’re perfect. That’s all I can really say.”

And with that, you two drift off.

You awaken to a pain that sweeps over your entire body, like thick needles piercing every pore straight down to the bone. You scream, but it’s not just physical torment.

She’s abandoned you. She doesn’t want you anymore; doesn’t wanna breed you, doesn’t wanna make you hers, doesn’t- You sob in pain, clawing at your burning, aching, itching skin as you writhe.

The door opens. New mate? Please let it be a new mate. You need to be filled. Need it.

“Shit, Y/N, I thought since you were asleep…” Ellie trails off, closing the door.

“It hurts, it hurts!” you wail, not really processing what she’s saying. You just need help.

“I’m sorry,” she says solemnly, finding the toy from before and cleaning it off, only bothering to take off her pants before putting the strap back on.

“Make it stop, please,” you beg.

“I’m trying,” she insists, but even as she lines herself up, you’re still sobbing inconsolably. She eases in but you’re still shaking, hot tears running down your face. “There we go. Can you drink this?”

She holds a reusable water bottle. You nod.

“Hurt so bad, thought you left me forever,” you whimper as she pushes the button to flip the straw up. She presses it against your trembling lips.

“I’d never,” she whispers. “Please drink.”

You finally take your first sip, and realize that your instincts regarding food and water must’ve been completely shut down until this moment. You take gulp after gulp until she pulls it away.

“You’re gonna make yourself sick,” she chides you, looking more concerned than ever.

“I- I-” you pant, but you’re not even sure what you’re trying to say. The pain is gone, but it lingers in the back of your mind, like a halo of misery hovering over your skin. She puts a hand on your shoulder, and you can’t help but project the feelings you’re feeling right now, a constant loop:

fuckmebreedmeownmebitemeclaimmeyoursyoursyoursneedyouneedyouneedyou

“I know,” she sighs. “I don’t… You’re too far gone right now. We can stay like this so you’re not in pain, but I don’t think we should do what we did yesterday. Your mind isn’t as clear as it was then.”

Not a worthy mate for her? Need it, need to be filled, maybe someone else will-

She thrusts, hard. It certainly gets your attention.

“Y/N, no. You’re- You’re worthy. You know I want you. Just not like this. Things were different yesterday, you were still… Lucid. This feels wrong. I don’t want you to regret anything we do together.”

You’re still teeming with feelings of perceived rejection, eyes blurry with tears.

“I’m your… Mate, right? That means I have to protect you, doesn’t it?”

You nod.

“Right now, I’m trying to protect you by not going any further than this. Reach out. Feel it.”

You obey, wrapping your hand around her arm. She’s right. Her intentions are pure. She does still care, it’s why she doesn’t want to do more.

“You look tired, still. I’m guessing you only woke up because of the pain. Let’s readjust so you can go back to sleep.”

Readjust? She’s not going to pull out again, is she? You couldn’t take that. You wrap your arms and legs around her tightly, keeping her in. She yelps in surprise before she sees your terrified expression and feels the waves of pure fear rushing out of you.

“Right. How about this? Let go. I won’t leave you empty again.” You loosen the grip of your legs and she holds the dildo in, pulling away. The suction cup resists, but eventually it’s forced out of the rubber ring on her harness. You nod, this is acceptable. You’d do anything to avoid the pain. “There we go.”

She smiles sadly, stroking your hair and the side of your face.

“You okay?” she asks. You nod again. “Can you talk?”

You open your mouth, but can’t seem to force even a simple yes from your vocal cords. Your throat doesn’t hurt, the blockage is purely mental. Everything you’re feeling right now, everything she’s feeling right now, it’s too much. You look at her woefully, shaking your head.

“That’s okay. Can you still communicate through touch?”

Your legs are still loosely looped around her. You can feel it all: her concern, her burning need to keep you safe, her fear that she’s doing the wrong thing, and, most importantly, her unwavering love for you.

You try to push some thoughts her way, but they’re still scrambled.

Safesafewarmsafeloveholdmesafelovewarmholdmesafe

“To an extent,” she says for you. “Got it.” She takes off the harness, pulling the covers over you both before pulling you into her arms. She was right, you’re exhausted.

You wish you could say something, thank her, tell her you love her. It’s just like when you were a kid, before you even knew what your abilities were. Every casual touch throughout the day was another tooth on the locked zipper your lips became. You were nonverbal more often than not, until you got here. You feel helpless.

“I didn’t know that,” she murmurs. “But don’t worry. I know the other stuff. You’re saying it just fine like this.”

You burrow into her embrace, still trembling.

“Just breathe. It’ll be okay.”

What if it never stops?

“It will. Just takes time. Oh, fuck, when’s the last time you used the restroom?”

She doesn’t wait for an answer, helping you make your way to it on jelly legs.

“Let me know when you’re done and I’ll help you back into bed.”

You grab her wrist.

Can’t pull it out myself, can’t do it, it’s gonna hurt too much.

“Right. I’ll pull it out, and I’ll be right here waiting when you’re done. On the count of three, okay? 1, 2…”

You can’t help but screech. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire, why wouldn’t you scream? It sounds louder than it feels in your throat, and that's when you realize you’re still holding onto her wrist. She’s screaming, too.

You rip your hand away and rush through the business you need to take care of as fast as you can, washing your hands and returning to her, though you collapse at her feet, shaking and sobbing.

She puts the toy back inside of you, but it’s not enough this time. You need to be bred. This alleviates the pain for the most part, but you’re filled with an indescribable tension and you know that any second, the burning ache will sweep its way over you again.

She helps you back into bed, but you still tremble. You’re entangled with her in more ways than one, and she sighs as she feels your fears, your need.

“I’ll move it for you, how about that?” she asks. You nod, and she reaches a hand down, sliding the toy up and down — never fully out, but just enough for you to feel it. That’s better. You sigh in relief, relaxing into her. “There we go. You’re gonna be just fine. Go back to sleep.”

I’m sorry I hurt you.

“It’s okay. It was an accident.” But you can feel a sickly sort of feeling inside of her.

I told you. I told you that it would ruin things. That it would repulse you. That I would.

“What are you talking about?”

I can feel it. Don’t try to lie to me, especially while you’re doing that.

Ellie watches the toy slide in and out of you at her hand, the way you quiver every time she bottoms out. It’s not just visual, she has a sixth sense, your sixth sense. Every little tremor sends a ripple of chills through her.

“You don’t repulse me. Your abilities don’t repulse me. I’m repulsed by myself. I shouldn’t have let it end up like this, I should’ve figured things out sooner. I’m not upset because I felt your pain in the way that you think I am.”

Things?

“The creature, your feelings, my feelings, what you’ve been through… What you’re going through now. I should’ve figured it all out before, it wouldn’t be like-”

Words are failing you again, but you do your best to project comfort to her. It’s really not so bad overall. Everything feels good, as long as she doesn’t stop. Most superhero couples don’t end up together in ideal ways. At least you two got to have mind-blowing sex.

Ellie snickers.

“Okay. If you’re sure. Now, sleep, alright? I’ve got you.”

And so you do.

You wake up in a hospital bed under a thin blanket, wrapped in Ellie’s fluffy black robe.

How’d you get here? You try to remember, but the last thing you do is being encircled by Ellie, and she was- Oh, goodness. You blush, remembering every filthy thing you said and did.

The blush is even deeper as the more romantic memories roll in. Maybe there were some complications with the pollen, were you sick? Oh, gross, you were probably gushing snot in your sleep and she rushed you here, worried you’d suffocate!

“You’re awake! How are you?” a friendly-looking man who’s probably several years older than you— but still has a somewhat youthful appearance —asks.

“Where’s Ellie?” you ask instead of answering. Does she regret it? Oh, she does, doesn’t she? You knew it.

He smiles knowingly.

“I finally convinced her to go take a shower, so, of course, you immediately woke up. She’ll be back soon.”

“Um, who are you?”

“I’m Peter, I’m one of Ellie’s coworkers. Technically her supervisor, but, eh…”

“Oh, Dr. Parker! I’ve heard of you. Good things. Uh, sorry, I’m sure Ellie would tell me if she was here, but… What happened?”

“Right! You weren’t waking up, and while Xavier’s has a pretty good medical center, there weren’t any biochemistry experts to consult… So, Ellie called me and I told her to bring you here. After a little bit of field research, we found that the creature whose pollen you inhaled quite a bit of hibernates directly after mating season. Do your sinuses hurt? We flushed them to see if that would help.”

You shake your head.

“Good, that’s good. Still… Hurting?”

Your blush returns, and you shake your head with a bit more enthusiasm. He laughs.

“Good! Ope!” He tilts his head, and you’re confused until you finally start to hear her footsteps, too. The door opens.

Ellie’s eyes widen at the sight of you conscious.

“You know what they say about watched pots never boiling. Text me if you two need anything, Ellie.”

And with that, Dr. Parker steps out.

“How are you? Do you feel okay?”

“Given that I’m not writhing in agony and I can talk again, I’d say I’m okay. How are you?”

She stammers, before clutching your hand with great urgency. She stares down at both of her hands encircling yours.

What if it was the pollen talking and she doesn’t really like me? What if she did like me before but feels used now? What if she’s lying about being okay so I won’t worry? I hope she wasn’t scared when she woke up. What if-

“Anxious,” you observe. “I do like you. I don’t feel used, and I hope you don’t either. I’m really okay. When I woke up, I was just confused. I recognized your robe, so I knew I was okay.”

She recognized my robe, so she knew she was okay. She trusts me that much?

Of course I do.

She looks up at you, positively beaming.

“I’m- I’m really happy you’re okay. I think they’ll wanna check your vitals and stuff, but we should be good to go home after that, okay?”

“Okay,” you reply.

“Er… I know this isn’t really the right order of things, but you said before… I- Do you still want…?”

Pleasebemygirlfriendpleasebemygirlfriendpleasebemygirlfriendpleasebemygirlfriendpleasebemygirlfriendpleasebemygirlfriend!

You laugh, and Ellie realizes you’re still holding hands. Her eyes widen and her cheeks flush as she snatches her hands away, crossing her arms and looking adorably shy.

“Yeah, I’ll be your girlfriend.”

“Cool. Thanks.”

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