#A Glass Of Riesling | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hotchscoffeecup · 2 months

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from across the bar

summary: an observation here and a sarcastic retort there is a sure fire way to catch agent hotchner’s attention at the hotel bar. after sharing a drink, he invites you to his hotel room where he gives it you just the way you ask for it: rough.

tags: light bondage, minor self-degradation, hand sex, oral sex, p in v sex, ass slapping, rough sex

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

rating: m, mdni

word count: 4.2k

Goosebumps bristle across your skin; the sharp bite of winter’s wind whipping against your cheeks and tossing your hair about your face. You fold your arms across your chest, tucking your hands beneath your biceps and thinking you ought to have worn a thicker coat. The thin suede Calvin Klein duster you’re wearing flutters about your ankles as the doorman tips his head in greeting and pulls the door wide. Heat rushes out to greet you and you smile in thanks as you cross through the threshold.

Friday night at The Ritz-Carlton is as busy as any bar or restaurant in DC. Men and women dressed in exorbitantly priced suits and dresses mill about, laughing and cavorting over drinks; standing at cocktail tables or seated at the bar or sleek leather seated areas interspersed throughout the modern space. Recess lighting creates a dim ambience that gives Hollister a run for its money. Your lips twitch and you have to fight to school your facial expression. The opulence is unnecessary, but you roll your shoulders back and situate yourself at the bar anyway, tossing your hair over your shoulder as you do so.

“Something to drink?” a bartender asks, placing a drink menu in front of you.

You smile politely and push the menu away. “A riesling, please.”

“Riesling? That’s awfully sweet, isn’t it?”

Your brow arches in response to the deep tenor rumbling a few seats down from you. You spare a glance in his direction and note the way in which he swirls the scotch in his hand. You’re half convinced that no one actually likes scotch; that it’s more about men establishing dominance around other men while they all pretend to enjoy a drink that tastes like paint thinner.

He is quite handsome though; from the strong set of his jaw to the dark slash of his brow, everything about him exudes leadership and power. A lawyer, perhaps. His suit is tailored to fit his lean frame, an expensive watch peeking out from beneath the cuff of his dress shirt.

You thank the bartender as they place a long stemmed glass in front of you. You take a long slow sip, enjoying the crisp white wine.

“Careful, big shot” you warn, not looking in his direction. “Sweetness often masks the taste of poison. You ought to know,” you say, inclining your chin toward the glass in his hand.

He chuckles wryly and sips his whiskey, “Scotch is an acquired taste.”

You roll your eyes and check your phone, noting the lack of text notifications or any sign of a missed call and slip it back into your coat pocket.

“Not the message you were expecting?” he asks and he seems genuinely curious.

“It’s the lack thereof,” you grumble and take another sip of wine. Five minutes late is one thing, fifteen is a different matter altogether without any attempt to reach out.

“Stood up on a Friday night,” the man arches his brow and blows out a slow breath. “That’s rough.”

“I was not stood up!” you counter defensively. You take a quick breath and actually turn to face him. Your heart stills momentarily as you take in the amused look in his dark brown eyes and the smirk tugging at his lips. Quickly coming back down to Earth, you blink several times and cross one leg over the other.

You feel his eyes level on you and you struggle to come up with some quippy retort. As he sips his whiskey, you can’t help but notice how strong his hands look; his wide palms and long fingers dwarfing the glass in his hand. For a split second you wonder what it would feel like to have those fingers wrapped around your throat or tangled in your hair.

“Wedding ring,” you almost blurt out.

His brow furrows and you point to his left hand, indicating the tan line on his fourth finger. His hand flexes around the cup before he sighs. “Divorced.”

“Ah,” you say, taking another sip of your wine. “So, that’s why you’re drinking alone on a Friday night?”

“I’m not alone,” he replies coolly, arching a brow as he regards you.

His keen stare forces a rush of heat to flush to your cheeks. A smirk tugs at his lips in response to the obvious scarlett trailing across your face and neck.

Taking a deep breath, you finish your glass of wine, stand, and shuffle down to occupy the seat beside him, your high heeled boots clacking against the tiled floor. With a newly emboldened confidence, you place your hand flat against his thigh, boosting yourself up onto the barstool as you level your gaze on him from beneath curled lashes.

His eyes widen slightly, but you see a spark of a challenge flare to life inside them. “What’s your name?” he asks.

You reach for his tie, gently tugging on it. You watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows. “Forget my name,” you say coolly. “You clearly came out tonight looking to meet someone and it looks like my plans have changed.”

“I have a suite on the 7th floor,” he says.

You offer him a wicked smile, “Then what are we still doing here?”

•

As the elevator doors pings, signaling its arrival in the lobby, the man extends an arm, holding them open for you to enter first.

“A gentleman too,” you remark as you slide past him letting your body brush against despite the ample room to avoid doing so. The heady scent of his cologne sticks to you and you wonder if you’ll be smelling it on your skin here soon.

He steps inside and presses the button for the seventh floor. As the elevator doors begin to close, someone rushes toward them, trying to get on but the man doesn’t move to hold them. “Take the next one,” he says as they seal shut.

He pounces the second they do, one hand curled around your waist and the other tangled in your hair; your combined body weight thudding against the paneled wall of the elevator. His lips crash against yours, and your lips instantly part for him; groaning into his open mouth. This only seems to drive him further and you feel his erection pressed against your thigh.

“Eager, are we?” you breathe against his lips before nipping at the shell of his ear.

His left hand curves around your ass to cup it in his large hand as his other curls around the back of your neck, using his thumb to angle your chin up towards him. “You have no idea,” he says, voice husky as he moves to suckle the hollow of your throat.

You fist the lapels of his suit jacket, pulling him closer to you. You moan against his mouth eliciting a deeper one from him. As the elevator dings, signaling your arrival at the seventh floor, you peel yourself off of him and slip through the doors right as they open leaving him panting and aching for more.

Giggling to yourself, you don’t wait for him as you head toward his room.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he calls after you seductively. With a breathy laugh he adds, “You don’t even know which room it is.”

“Oh, don’t I?” you tease. Without turning back, you raise your hand in the air, his key card tucked between two fingers. “You really outta keep better track of your belongings.”

The sound of him slapping his pockets and grumbling curses brings a cheeky grin to your lips. You slap the key against the keypad and buzz inside the hotel room, slamming the door shut just before he reaches you.

A dark laugh rumbles from beyond the door and you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. Undoing the belt at your waist, you shrug out of your coat and toss it over the nearby sofa. He knocks on the door and in a voice just above a whisper he starts to detail what he’s going to do to you once you let him inside. Your black high waisted trousers accentuate the curve of your waist, the black lacy corset teddy you’re wearing underneath pushes your breasts up and out.

As you move to open the door, you swipe his badge from your coat pocket, the other item you’d managed to swipe from his suit jacket.

He opens his mouth to chastise you, but instead he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth as his eyes drop to the swell of your breast. He leans into his arm that’s stretched up above him where he holds onto the doorframe.

Pouting, you fold your hands behind your back and rock back and forth on your heels. “I’m sorry for locking you out,” you say coyly. “Tell me though,” you say, leaning forward, looping your arms around his neck. “Do you have a pair of handcuffs somewhere on you to go with this badge, Agent Hotchner?”

Pulling your one hand free from around his neck, you flip open the leather bifold and dangle his own photo in front of his steely gaze.

His lips press together in a firm line as he looks from his badge to you, though the smile doesn’t slip from your mouth. He pushes his weight against the door frame and peers over both shoulders before taking his forearm and pushing it into your chest, forcing your back against the doorway and knocking the air from your lungs. Your chest heaves and your abdomen clenches as you bite your lip, eyes flicking from his mouth to his eyes. He dips his chin so his lips are level with your ear.

“I don’t need my cuffs to keep you at my mercy,” he growls.

The breath in your lungs stills and you feel your pulse increase, thrumming inside your neck. Wrapping his tie around your knuckles, you gently tug him towards you. “Then give it to me, rough, G-man.”

He wastes no time. Releasing the door frame, he drops it and loops it around your waist before yanking you against his muscular frame. He walks you into the room, kicking the door shut behind him and the door automatically locks.

His grip on your hips is bruising and you love the ache of his hands on you as he guides you to the bed. His lips seek yours out and when they find them, you slip your tongue between his lips. You can still taste the scotch on him. As you fold your hands into his hair, you gently suck on his lower lip, grazing your teeth along it and savoring the moan that elicits from him.

When your ass touches the edge of the bed, he pushes his pelvis against your hip, his erection digging into your thigh. You yearn to feel that hard length inside your pussy, but you know it won’t be that easy. You’ve played too many games with him tonight to win him over that easily. You lower your weight onto the bed and wrap your legs around his waist, drawing him closer.

“So?” you ask, offering a flirtatious glance whilst skirting the toe of your boot up the length of his leg. “What’s the verdict on those cuffs, Agent?”

His fingers curl around your bare shoulders and toy with the straps of your teddy. “I’m not carrying them tonight,” he says after a while. He moves to loosen his tie and your belly clenches as you wonder what he plans to do with it.

“Hands out,” he orders, and the authority in his voice is so natural you immediately feel compelled to listen.

He slips his tie from around his neck and winds it around your wrists, tying them together snugly, but not so much to cut off feeling to them. He grips the loose end and aggressively tugs you towards him so that your chest is flush with his.

You splay your fingers out against his chest and try to reach for the collar of his shirt to start working on the buttons when he yanks your wrists away.

“Not so fast,” he murmurs. He releases his hold on your makeshift restraints and shifts both hands under your ass. With a grunt, he picks you and shifts your weight so that you’re sat fully on the bed.

“Lay down,” he commands. “Arms above your head.”

As you slowly do as he asks, your lips curl into a wicked smile. “Yes sir, Mr. Hotchner.”

He emits a low groan as his name tumbles from your mouth and you know his cock is straining in his pants. Again, you try to tease him through his trousers with the toe of your boot, but his reflexes are too quick and his hand snaps out to catch your ankle. He arches one dark brow at you before focusing his attention on unzipping each one at a relentlessly slow pace. Your pussy throbs in anticipation of what’s to come and you bite your lip as he straddles your waist, one knee on the bed as his other foot remains on the floor. His eyes are fixed on yours as his fingers make quick work of the buttons of your pants. As his fingers curl around the hem and begin to wind them down your waist and hips, you can’t help but reach up and try to run your fingers through his hair.

Immediately, he snatches your wrist from midair and slams it into the mattress. You gasp and try not to giggle, excited by this show of brute force.

“Don’t move.” His voice is low. “If you can’t follow instructions, there will be consequences.”

You push your lower lip forward, “And I hate to suffer those at your big,” you enunciate each word, “strong, hands.”

Hotchner keeps his obsidian eyes, sharp as knives, daggered on you for a second longer, before releasing your wrists and sliding your pants down and off your legs.

“Now this,” he says, trailing a finger down the lace up front of the corset styled teddy. “Makes accessing want I know you so desperately want me to touch a little difficult, doesn’t it?”

“Maybe, you should check again Mr. Hotchner,” you reply with a flutter of lashes.

He regards you curiously, but there’s a dark amusement glinting in the depths of his irises. His hand slinks around your calf, and that alone elicits goosebumps up and down the length of exposed skin. As his hand trails up the inside of your thighs, your muscles quake as you allow your legs to fall open for him.

His lips part as he discovers the missing fabric between your legs. His brow curves as he regards you with keen interest. “One way or another you knew you were getting fucked tonight.”

“One can never be too prepared, can they?”

“No,” he purrs, leaning down to kiss your inner thigh. You squirm as he presses his hand flat against your belly, fingers splayed out as he slowly drags them down toward your center.

“Now let’s see just how ready you are, shall we?.” He sinks one long finger inside you and you groan. “So wet,” he murmurs, slowly sinking another finger inside of you. You feel the moisture pooling, how quickly the torturously slow rhythm of his fingers heightens your arousal. When his thumb presses against your clit and begins moving in slow circles, your mouth falls open in a silent moan.

“Oh, Aaron,” you say, dragging out his name. Your hands fumble to grip onto the sheets as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you, maneuvering his fingers each time to strike your g-spot in rhythm with the circular motion around your clit. The wet sounds of his hands wringing pleasure from your body alongside him murmuring filthy things is too much. You need more.

“Please,” you say, arching your back against the mattress in an attempt to draw his fingers in deeper. “I need more.” You hook a leg around his waist and pull him against the edge of the bed, not missing the way his throat strains and eyes roll back at that thought. He increases his speed and without warning withdraws his fingers. You immediately miss their presence, but then suppress a scream as he dives face first into your pussy. His tongue delves into your center, devouring your pleasure. His slick tongue finds your clit, swirling and sucking on the sensitive nub and your pleasure centers are firing on all cylinders.

You dig your elbows into the mattress and push your hips into the air, pressing yourself against his mouth and he moans against your pussy. You feel the deep tremble reverberate against your walls and cry out as it becomes too much to bear in the best way possible.

He grips your hips and you kick you legs up around his neck, drawing him in as if he could get any closer to you. You clench the sheets above your head and cry out, his name on your lips as pleasure builds in your abdomen, pulsing through you all the way to your core. He shifts then, and before you can wonder what he’s doing, he takes a breath and sucks your clit between his teeth. You hiss at the unfamiliar sensation and swear you see stars when his fingers plunge deep into your pussy.

You come instantly, your orgsam surging through you like electricity. You feel it through every inch of your body, from the tips of your toes to the ends of your tousled hair. The aftershocks are still coursing through you as Hotchner tightens his hold on your hips and with a grunt of effort, flips you onto your stomach and yanks you closer to the edge of the bed. The sound of a belt unfastening and zipper coming down is all the preparation you receive before he slaps your ass and the hard length of his cock slams into you. You cry out with ultimate ecstasy as he fills you.

Turning your face into the mattress, you gasp and grunt with each forceful thrust. Your pussy clenches around his thick girth. The slap of flesh on flesh is all that can be heard as he pumps himself in and out. He releases a sharp breath and winds his fingers into your hair, tugging on it. You cry out and moan as you turn to look at him over your shoulder, finding great satisfaction when you watch him melt under your sultry smokey eyed look.

“Come on, baby,” you urge and you see his restraint crack. “Take what you want.”

His brow pinches and unfurrows as his grip starts to falter.

“Use me,” you push, delighting in the way his lips press together as he fights to hold on to his release.

You press your ass higher into the air, allowing him to plunge deeper into your core as his thrusts become less controlled and his pace becomes erratic.

“You don’t,” you grunt and moan as he strikes your g-spot again and again, “even know my name.” You breathe out and groan as you turn over your shoulder once more. “Let me be your whore, Agent Hotchner.”

Hot, thick ropes of cum erupt from his cock into your pussy. He holds onto your hips so tightly, you know you’ll have bruises in the morning. You relish in his pleasure as much he relished in yours. When he stops shaking, he slowly lowers your hips onto the mattress and smooths his fingers over the tender flesh there.

Easing you on to your back, you feel his cum slip down your inner thighs as he clambers over you and tenderly kisses your face and neck. When his lips brush yours, you taste yourself on him.

You reach up and hands still bound, brush the hair from his forehead. He smiles as he reaches up and undoes the knot with one swift move. The tie instantly unravels and he casts it aside. You place your hands on either side of his face, thumb stroking the sharp curve of his jaw.

“Let me help get you cleaned up,” he says gently, eyes soft.

You nod, “I think I’d like that.”

He cradles you into his arms and carries you to the shower where he places you on the tile floor and cranks the water on. As steam begins to fill the room, he helps you out of your negligee. Without words, you turn and push his blazer off of his shoulders. You do the same with his dress shirt and let him kick out of his shoes and socks before curling your fingers around the hem of his pants and underwear and kneel to draw them down over his ankles.

He loops his arms around your waist as you stand and kisses you slowly as he guides you back into the walk-in shower. The warm water cascades over your skin, soothing your taut muscles. You close your eyes as he tilts your head back and smoothes your hair away from your face. He places feather light kisses along your jawline as he pumps body wash into his hand from the dispenser on the wall.

“How do you feel?” he asks as he lathers the soap between his hands and smoothes it over your shoulders.

You release a moan of a different sort as his fingers massage the soap into your neck and back. You turn around and lean against the wide plane of his chest as he curves his hands around to wash your breasts and stomach.

His voice is amused when he speaks. “That good, hmm?”

“Mmhmm,” you confirm.

He laughs softly in your ear before pressing a kiss to your temple. He continues to wash your body, treating each limb like a holy object the way he handles you with such delicacy and adoration. When he finishes with you, he washes himself quickly and exits the shower to retrieve two plush towels from beneath the sink. As you work to try yourself off, he fetches the robes provided to each guest from the closet in the main room.

You admire the softness of his stomach contrasted with the hard angles of his face and lean musculature of his arms and legs. He really is a beautiful man.

“Thank you, Agent.” You say with a wink as you take it from him.

He laughs. “You and titles. I thought we’d agreed on no names.”

“I said you didn’t need to know my name. I never said anything about yours. What can I say? I love a power play. After all, you must be used to that in your big, bad FBI office, hmm?”

He smiles and shakes his head. “Something like that.”

You continue to towel dry your hair and smile back at him. “I guess this game of ours has reached its end. I gotta say, I had a wonderful time.”

“It doesn’t have to end,” he says with a suggestive arch of his brow.

Tilting your head back and forth, you weigh your options. “How about this?” you say, taking a measured step toward him. His eyes widen, surprised by your sudden prowess. “You and me,” you say slowly and stand on your toes so you can purr directly into his ear, “drop the ruse, order room service, and watch a movie on Netflix?”

He pulls away, expression unreadable for a moment. You keep your eyes on him, waiting, and then smile when his posture visibly relaxes. “Honestly, that sounds great, babe, I’m exhausted.”

A grin pulls across your cheeks as you dash into the room and grab your purse. Returning to the bathroom, you reach deep into your bag and unzip the pocket in the inner lining. You fish out your wedding rings and place Aaron’s in his hand before slipping yours back onto your finger.

“The crotchless lingerie was a nice surprise,” he says as he adjust the simple gold band on his finger.

Your lips quirk into a grin, “Yeah, I thought you’d like that little surprise.”

He smiles and leans down to kiss you. “Seriously though, how’d I do?” he asks. “I’m not used to using my office persona around you. It’s a lot harder than I thought it’d be. With you, it’s so easy to leave work at the office and relax.”

“Well I certainly hope you don’t do that at the office.”

He chuckles. “You know what I mean!” He waves his hand absentmindedly. “The hardened exterior, the stern, hard voice, expressionless. Dominating. I’m never like that with you.”

“Naturally,” you tease, voice light. “I’m so full of fun and whimsy. It’s hard not to come back down to Earth from your Bureaucratic cloud of murder and mayhem when you’re with me.”

He loops his arms around you, hands flat against your back. “Five years of marriage and you still manage to keep me on my toes, more so than some of the men and women I’m paid to track down and put away.”

You pull back and look up at him. “You love the sex bucket list, be honest.”

He can’t fight the grin that tugs at his lips as he nods. “Role playing as two strangers that meet at random is definitely up there with the things we’ve done so far.”

“More fun than when we played naked Twister with the body paint?”

“Ooo, don’t make me choose.”

He dials room service, ordering plenty of food and desserts to refuel after your exciting adventure into role play and as you climb into the California king bed with him and snuggle against his chest, you silently thank whatever divine forces exist in the universe for every opportunity you get to spend with him like this; your lover, your husband, your everything.

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garaks-padded-bra · 22 hours

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Hi yeah I’ll have the cornish halibut and a glass of Riesling. No, wait. Bring us a bottle for the table. Thanks.

#bowie

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thebearer · 1 year

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the milestones menu: nonna berzatto's homemade pasta

prompt: yours and carmen's first "i love you".

contains: fluff, general fluff. some mentions to dead relatives, carmen's self doubt, but very minimal bc it's very fluffy :)

2 cups of flour- Semolina.

4 Large Eggs

Pinch of Salt

Put flour into a mound. Make a center, and add the eggs to the middle. Whisk slowly with a fork, gradually working it in little at a time until nice and thick. Knead the mixture for about ten minutes. Let it rest in the fridge for thirty minutes. Put it in a ball, and roll it out very thin.

“Can’t believe you never had homemade pasta.” Carmen shook his head, blue eyes peeking out from under the mess of curls.

“Nope.” You shook your head, grinning over the crystal wine glass, sipping your riesling slowly. “Strictly a boxed pasta girl.”

“Fuckin’ criminal.” Carmen grinned, a playful, lopsided smirk that had you blushing.

The counter was covered in flour, stopping just where you rested, propped up on the granite while Carmen worked. Your eyes trained on his hands, hands that stirred the eggs into the flour, kneaded the dough until your thighs were clenching.

“My Nonna is rollin’ in her grave right now, you know that?” Carmen pulled you from your gaze, rolling out the dough.

“Noooo, don't say that.” You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re making me feel bad, Carmen. I swear I thought Olive Garden made fresh pasta.”

Carmen laughed, a little shy but louder now- more himself. He’d blossomed with you lately, unveiling new parts of himself every single day. “‘M just kiddin’, baby.” Carmen hummed, eyes cutting to you a little skeptical. “Sorry, I-I didn’t mean to sound like an asshole. That sounded douchey, right?”

You smiled, setting your glass behind you. “No, I was just messin’ with you, bear.” The nickname- his nickname. Hearing it more and more roll from your tongue, each time his heart skipped harder than the last.

“Is this her recipe?” You asked, picking up the faded recipe card, looped cursive on the aged paper. “Your Nonna’s?”

“Yeah,” Carmen nodded. “I, uh, so when I left to go to culinary school, right? She was sick, and… and I think she, like, knew that when I went to New York that would be the last time she saw me.” Carmen’s face dropped, slow and sad, it made your own heart sink.

“So she-she gave me all these recipe books and-and cards that were hers. We used to cook together a lot. She taught me how to cook, y’know? My mom and dad were always at the restaurant and didn’t want to cook when they got home. They didn’t want me in the restaurant either so I spent a lot of time with her.” Carmen muttered. You could see the memories playing behind his eyes.

You liked to picture that version of Carmen, a little boy with wild curls, helping his Nonna cook. Happy memories.

“That’s sweet.” You smiled, leaning against the cabinets. “She did a really good job. You know she’s so insanely proud of you.”

Carmen snorted, shaking his head lightly. “Yes, she is. Everyone’s proud of you, Carmen… I’m proud of you.” You hesitate, eyes scanning his features. It was true, of course, but handling Carmen sometimes was like handling a frightened animal. You were never sure what would make him scatter away in fear.

Carmen swallowed thickly, cheeks flushed red, lips in a tight line. “T-Thanks.” Carmen muttered, wiping his hands on his apron, tossing the flour back into his clammy hands.

“She, uh, she woulda loved you, y’know.” Carmen’s eyes met yours, intense and piercing. “I wish you coulda met her.”

“Yeah, me too.” You nod. “I would’ve loved to hear all the baby Carmen cooking stories. I bet she had some good ones.” You smiled, bright and wide- perfect. It made Carmen’s brain numb.

“Yeah, she would.” Carmen nodded, hands stilling, still buried in the dough.

He felt it in his bones, his heart, consuming his thoughts. The overwhelming need he’d felt for weeks, since the first time you kissed him really, that he’d been fighting- too scared to say. What he felt every time he looked at you, when he thought about you.

“Um, I-I wanna say something, and-and I don’t know if I should even fuckin’ say this or-or if it’s… fuck, if you-you feel the same or I just, I don’t wanna fuck this up because this is like the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and-and I’m workin’ on not ruinin’ good shit in my life and bein’ ok with it like-like my therapist says ya know, but-” Carmen rambled, words spilling out in fast, overwhelming bouts that took you by surprise.

Carmen flustered, reaching a dough covered hand to his face, the sticky batter catching on his brows and hair. He flushed deeply, hands shaking in embarrassment, cursing under his breath. “F-Fuck, I-I’m sorry. I-I, nevermind, it’s not… I don’t know why-why I would-” His hands trembled, body shaking with anger and embarrassment. Way to fuckin’ go, Berzatto, you fuckin’ ruin it. That’s all you ever do, Carmen thought bitterly, wiping his hands off on the cloth.

“Carm,” You said softly, your voice a beacon in the raging sea of his mind, pulling him out of his own harsh thoughts.

Carmen turned, a fury flush of pure embarrassment that burnt all down his cheeks to his chest. Eyes soft and wary, hesitant like he was doomed, destined for the worse.

You slide off the counter easily, grabbing the spare towel, bringing it to his eyebrows, wiping the dough off gently. The softness of your touch soothed Carmen, lulling his hammering heart- he didn’t see your own shaking hands, filled with your own adrenaline nerves.

You stood in front of him, eyes on the other, careful and watching- unsure. “I-I love you, too.” Your breath hitched, squeezing the words out in a nervous tumble. Carmen didn’t move, body going rigid, heart stopping entirely. The ringing was back in his ears, clouding his brain so loudly he was sure he heard you wrong.

“I’ve wanted to say it for a while, too, but didn’t…” You shook your head, heat in your own cheeks, eyes casting down to his dough covered hand. “I didn’t know if-if you felt that or if- I don’t know, I didn’t want to seem crazy or obsessive if it was too soon, and-and scare you.”

“No,” Carmen croaked, tongue thick in his own mouth. “No, I-I mean- fuck,” Carmen shook his head, looking to the wall. He needed a second, words jumbled in his mouth, heart racing, so high off the adrenaline he felt like he could combust at any moment.

“I-I was gonna say that too.” Carmen nodded, the quirk in your lips making his heart lurch. “That I love you. I was- yeah, I love you. I-I have for a while.”

“Really?” You whispered, voice tiny and excited, like it was a secret just for the two of you. Maybe it was.

“Yeah, fuck yeah.” Carmen let out a breathy, shaky laugh. “I love you, and-and I just love you so much it makes my brain hurt sometimes.”

“Me too.” You grin, a hand pressing to his cheek. “I love you.” The phrase you’d repressed for so long, deprived yourself of saying now spilled out of you like a mantra- like that was all you could say now.

Carmen grinned, brain bubbly and light. He let you pull him into a kiss, head tilting down, lips molding over yours so they fit perfectly.

Later over plates of Bologonese, you grinned across the table from Carmen. “If I didn’t tell you I loved you before, I definitely would now.” You moaned, pointing at the plate. “I really was missing out.”

Carmen beamed under your praise, gooey and love drunk off your words- off you. He knew Viola Berzatto, wherever she was, was boasting with pride.

And he knew his Nonna would have loved you too.

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becca-e-barnes · 6 months

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I think too much in real life to fully let myself enjoy some activities so I'm going to live vicariously through the characters I write 🙃

He's here for pleasure. You're not under any illusion about his intentions. Sure, he'll let you snuggle up beside him afterwards, playing with the little soft curls on his chest. He'll kiss your forehead and smooth your hair and you'll laugh together about the silliest things but it's no secret that it's the sex that keeps him coming back.

Secretly, it's exactly what you need too. It works well for both of you. You get someone who has the confidence and experience to show you things you didn't even think you'd be into and you get to simply enjoy the way he gets off on pleasuring you. There's no need to feel shy around a man who's told you his secret filthy fantasies.

"What's one thing you've always wanted to do but have never had a chance to?" You probe one evening, taking your necklace off and placing it on the bedside table, well aware he's probably wearing more of your lipgloss that you are after the way he greeted you at the hotel room door.

You hop onto the bed to take your shoes off, enjoying how the mattress bounces you slightly.

He doesn't answer right away, pouring two glasses of a sweet, chilled Riesling before handing one to you. You take a sip, trying not to put him under pressure but the time he's taking to consider your question makes you even more curious.

"If I tell you, I'd like you to try it with me. So how badly do you want to know?" He stands in front of you and places the glass to his lips and in that moment, you couldn't want anything more than you want to fulfil a fantasy for him. You want to be something he's never had and offer him opportunities to enjoy your body that he might never have again.

"Tell me. We'll do it." You hardly even have to think about it.

"I'd like to lick you. All of you. Run my tongue all over your body. Find what makes you shiver. Find what makes you moan. Find the places that are so ticklish you need me to stop. I want to lick all the places you've never been licked before. If you'll let me." He really could make anything sound appealing.

Excitement fizzles in your core and a real desperation begins to build. Just being around this man makes you wet so you can't help the fact you're ready for him already.

"If that's what you want to do, I'll let you." If you're honest with yourself, you'd probably agree no matter what he asked for. You trust him enough to know he won't take you further than you're comfortable with.

~~~

You knew what you were signing up for but you didn't think it'd feel like this. Why the hell haven't you tried this before?

He's kneeling at the end of the bed, stroking his cock while his hot, wet, stiff tongue flicks gently against your asshole and there's no denying how much you're enjoying the pressure there. You couldn't hide it if you tried. You're so wet, you're practically dripping and it only spurs him on. It's intimate in a way you don't think you'll ever recover from while being one of the most erotic things you think he's ever done. There's nothing to be embarrassed about it when it's clear he's enjoying it just as much as you are. Maybe more.

The way you're gripping his hair has you wondering whether the strain on his tongue or his neck will overwhelm him first but he shows no signs of relenting. That is until he stands up, already looking delightfully over-pleasured and sinks his cock into your fluttering, neglected cunt without a word.

If he goes too fast it's all over and he knows it but he can't resist holding both of your ankles, watching you while he places open mouthed kisses to the soles of your feet, thrusting into you with slow, calculated strokes.

#becca writes spice #becca's thots #dbf!bucky #dads best friend! bucky #I just want to get some of my personal needs out before I go back to writing requests #I have a couple more fantasies that I can't shake so I'll have to write those soon #I had an assignment due this afternoon and oh boy #Leaving it to 9pm last night before I got started was a plan that I knew would suck #but I was in my second job all last week and couldn't be bothered starting any earlier than that #so I worked from home today to tackle the sleepies #and I spent all day working from bed with an Easter egg so like... pretty good Monday #tw: alcohol mention #tw: alcohol #can you tell I've been to one single wine tasting event 💅🏻

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ichikopotato · 6 months

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2017 Tom with f! Reader literally js smut!

If your comfortable!!💞💞

slay.

pairings : 2017 t.kaulitz smut

synopsis : you just got out of a relationship, meaning you were at the bar, trying to get your mind off of it. You suddenly meet a guy, actually forgetting what you came there for. Let’s just say you weren’t expecting to forget your past in one night.

warnings : one night stand?, p in v, degradation, rough/ kinda sweet sex?, sweet tom, pillow princess, unprotected sex, hair pulling, implied second round, usage of “baby, sweetheart, princess”.

a/n : YALL IM SO UPSET. I actually lost a few followers from not posting in a while, I’ll try to post more often now! Love you angels.

-> IT WAS A GLOOMY EVENING at the bar in your town, nothing too exciting, just normal people having fun and drinking. You sat down, ordering drinks, wanting nothing more than to release some stress.

You drank your drink, ordering another, after another. A man sat beside you, ordering your same drink. You look at him up and down, silently admiring him as you fixed your posture.

He saw you staring, smirking slightly. “Do I have something on my face?” He chuckled, as you clear your throat, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

“No, sorry. I’ve just never seen you here before.” You smile, taking a sip of your drink. You couldn’t deny that he was handsome as fuck, from his man bun to his outfit and body.

He smiled, as he drank his drink. “Just decided to go to a new place, last one was kind of boring me out.” He winked, smiling. You giggle softly, as he brought out a hand for you to shake.

“I’m Tom, you?” He smirked, eyeing you up and down teasingly. You shook his hand, blushing softly. “It’s y/n, nice to meet you.” You giggled. He chuckled, getting up.

You both talk for minutes, getting along and being able to communicate great. Until he stood up, smirking at you, “why don’t we take this back to my place? Im sure we can get along more.” He smiled.

You smile, nodding as he got the bill, signing it as he winked at you whilst smirking. He took your hand, leading you to his car. You drove to his place, singing some songs together, laughing and talking.

As you got to his apartment, you took off your heels and waited for him to say something. He smiled, leading you to the couch, “go ahead and sit, make yourself at home. Oh, and the best view of the city is at the end of the couch or balcony.” He smirked, walking to the kitchen.

You sat down on the couch, admiring the view. He came back with some wine, and two glasses. “Care to drink more?” He teased, sitting beside you.

You hit his arm playfully, taking the glass and taking a sip. “This is good, is this Riesling?” You smiled, taking another sip. “mhm, glad someone knows what I’m serving them.” He chuckled.

You remember your ex, knowing this is his favourite. You sigh, placing the glass down. Tom notices, confused. “Is something bothering you, sweetheart?” He smiled, rubbing your back.

“No, it’s just that— this is my ex’s favourite wine.” You giggled softly, your eyes watering up. He took your hand, rubbing his thumb over your soft skin. “Im sorry, y/n. I didn’t mean to.” He whispered, rubbing your back.

“It’s fine, Tom. It’s not your fault.” You smiled, rubbing his hands. You and him stare at each other, eyes filled with desire and lust. He leaned in, pulling you into a kiss.

You smile, returning the kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, as he pulls you closer by the waist. He groaned softly, “are you okay with this, princess?” He placed hot kisses up and down your neck.

You moan softly, nodding. Without another word, he carries you to his bedroom as you yelp in surprise. “t-tom!” You gasp.

You get to his room, as he laid you down on his bed. He quickly strips you out your clothes, smirking and maintaining eye contact with you.

You squirm, blushing as he strips as well. He pulls you into a kiss, moaning softly as he rubs his tip on your wet folds. “You want this, hmm baby?” He coed, teasing.

You let out a moan, whimpering softly. “y-yes, please tom.” You gasp, your hands falling to his back, as he slammed his girth into you. His head falls back, groaning.

“shit, princess. s’tight f’me..” he smirked, chuckling. He pulled your hair, pounding into you roughly. You squeal, moaning as your eyes rolled back in ecstasy. He chuckled at your face, kissing the corner of your lips.

“Yeah baby, you like that?” He moaned, pounding into you. You could only respond with pathetic moans, whimpers and whines. He smirked, feeling you tighten around him.

“you close, sweetheart— hmngh.. fuck! taking me s’well.. such a dumb girl.” He moaned, pounding into you faster. You moan, “m’close, tom. please!” You whimper.

Your tongue lolls out as you cum all over his cock, moaning and shaking. He groans, pulling out and cumming all over your breasts and stomach.

He chuckled, slapping your cheek gently as he saw your eyes droopy.

“Not finished yet, sweetheart. Gonna fuck this pussy till’ I get tired.”

well, let’s just say you stayed the night, forgetting about your stupid ex.

YALL IM SO SORRY, I LOVE YOU ALL. THIS WAS REALLY SHORT, IM SO SORRYYY! I LOVEYOUALL, STAY SAFE ANGELS.

#tokio hotel #tom kaulitz #bill kaulitz #georg listing #gustav schäfer #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz fluff #tom kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz angst #bill kaulitz smut #one night stand #wine

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hearts-hunger · 5 months

Text

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Taglist Form

Summary: For Josh, home is where you are. | Standalone in the Cabin Fever universe

Pairings: Josh x Wife! Reader (Josh POV) | Genres: domestic fluff, angst, hurt/comfort | Word Count: 3k | Warnings: a little mention of spice

A/N: I loved Josh's most recent insta caption about the stage being his ethereal living room he gets to share with us, but I also love hurt/comfort, so I made it angsty and fluffy for Josh and Baby. I hope you like it! ♡

“The stage is your ‘ethereal living room’?”

Josh looked up from the charcuterie board he was meticulously arranging to see you on your phone, presumably scrolling through the concert pictures he’d posted half an hour ago. He smiled.

“Yeah, you know.” He tapped a row of crackers into line until they were perfect. “The shows are a place where people come together to enjoy each other’s company. Somewhere that feels like home.”

You didn’t say anything. He glanced up at you again.

“Ethereal means — ”

“I know what ethereal means, Josh.” Your face went pink. “It’s just not usually a word you use to describe a living room.”

He was a little surprised at your tone; it bordered on sounding upset, but maybe that was just because he’d embarrassed you, though he certainly hadn’t meant to.

“I was just trying to help, baby,” he said gently. He tried for some humor. “And you’re right, it’s not usually a word you’d use to describe a living room. Definitely not our living room in the state it’s been in lately.”

That had the opposite of the intended effect, and he wished he could take it back when your face fell. “You don’t think it’s ready for tonight?”

“No, no,” he said quickly. “It’s ready now. Everything looks great. I just meant that we haven’t been as good about tidying every night, so it’s been a wreck recently.”

“Right,” you said, but it was doubtful and tense. “Well, I tried to get most of it done while you were at work — ”

“I know, baby.” He felt that he’d botched this conversation pretty badly, but you also seemed much more sensitive than you usually were. “It was a huge help, and I’m grateful that you did most of the cleaning when we made the mess together.”

“I didn’t make it quite as ethereal as a concert, though,” you said, and your laugh was a little strained.

He wondered at your fixation on the wording of his caption, but maybe you were trying to make it into a running joke.

“The Kiszkas wouldn’t know what to do with a living room too perfect for this world,” he teased. He set the board on the other side of the island and went hunting for the wine glasses. “Could you grab me the corkscrew, honey?”

You did as he said, but there was a pensiveness to your body language that made him worry. You’d been in a great mood all day, his happy bubbly girl, spending the day shopping and tidying and preparing for the dinner party you were hosting. Jake, Sparrow, Sam, and Danny were due to arrive any time now, and Josh had thoroughly enjoyed spending time with you after work getting your home ready for your family. He didn’t know what had brought on this sudden change in mood, and he racked his brain for what could have caused it and what he could do to fix it.

“Dessert smells really good,” he said sincerely. “Did you end up putting the strawberries in there too?”

You handed him the corkscrew and stood uneasily as he opened the Riesling, toying with the sleeve of your pretty dress.

“No,” you said quietly. “It’s just regular blackberry cobbler. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

A frown tugged at his features. “I don’t,” he said. He popped the cork out. “Of course I don’t mind. That sounds great, honey.”

“It’s not very exciting,” you said apologetically.

He didn’t know where this was going. Surely you weren’t upset about the dessert you’d made, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what you really were upset about. He decided to stick with his usual strategy, which was mostly just continuing to be sweet to you.

“I don’t need exciting, baby,” he said, kissing your cheek. “It’ll be perfect. I can’t wait to try it.”

Working together, but without your usual quips and jokes back and forth, you and Josh put the finishing touches on dinner before the doorbell rang. Josh put his dishtowel over his shoulder and went to welcome your guests in, and he was happy that you joined him.

“You look beautiful, baby,” he said. “I love that dress on you.”

You touched a hand to the neckline of your summery black dress patterned with little red cherries. “Oh, well, it’s only a sundress. But... thank you.” The usual enthusiastic enjoyment of his compliments he loved hearing was nowhere in your voice. He wished he could wait to open the door and ask what was bothering you, but the doorbell was now accompanied by rhythmic knocking the type of which only a drummer could deliver.

“I’m telling you,” Josh said, trying one last-ditch attempt to coax a smile out of you. “This ethereal living room business — it’s better if it’s just our plain old living room with these hooligans.”

The smile you gave him was clearly only for his sake, not even reaching your eyes. Discouraged and unable to stall any longer, he turned the door handle.

“I didn’t mean to push this on you,” you blurted. Your expression was anxious and regretful. “I’m sorry, Josh.”

By the time he’d processed what you’d said, the door was already open, and your family was coming inside full of laughter and bearing gifts of wine and appetizers and card games to play. He wanted to jump right into the festive atmosphere his brothers and sister-in-law brought with them, but he was completely preoccupied by your blurted-out apology for... what? What could you have to be sorry for? He looked across the foyer and felt his heart twist when he saw your strained smile as you welcomed your family inside.

“Alright, Kiszkas,” he said with more levity than he felt. He ushered everyone into the living room, pointing out the drinks and snacks on the kitchen island. “Eat, drink, and be merry. Dinner’s almost ready.”

He asked Danny to watch the sauce simmering on the back of the stove, wanting to try and get a moment with you before dinner. He left Sparrow and his brothers chatting and snacking in the kitchen and found you in the dining room, double-checking the place settings you’d already made perfect an hour before.

“Baby,” he said gently. “What did you mean, you’re sorry for ‘pushing this on me’? Did you mean dinner?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “I should have asked you before I planned it.”

He leaned against the doorframe. “You did ask me. Didn’t you?”

“I don’t think so,” you said sheepishly. “I think I just told you I was doing it, and you went along with it.”

“Oh. Well, I don’t mind,” he said sincerely. “I’m glad you planned it.” He debated giving you space or pressing a little deeper, and he risked the latter. He came around the table to the side where you stood.

“I’m glad we’re all spending time together,” he said. He took your hands in his. “I’d like to enjoy it with you, too, but I wouldn't be happy if you were unhappy.”

“I’m not unhappy,” you lied.

“Baby,” he chided tenderly. “You’ve been out of sorts for a little bit now, and I want to help you get back into sorts. I just don’t know how.”

You looked up at him. “Are you sure you’re happy with... all this?”

He raised a brow. “Dinner? Or, like, the universe as a whole?”

You sighed. “No, I mean... do you like being home? Maybe it’s a little lackluster after touring.”

“That could not be farther from the truth,” he said, without a moment’s hesitation. Was that all that was bothering you?

“Silly girl,” he said with a smile. “Of course I like being home. I love being home.”

“But it’s... it’s just... me,” you said lamely. “Just our house.”

“I’m still not seeing a problem,” he said, affectionately teasing. “I love you, and I love our house, especially when it has all the people we love in it drinking all our wine.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment. Then — “Are you sure?”

For a moment, he couldn’t think of anything to say. He felt a surprisingly sharp flash of hurt at your doubt. He tamped it down to focus on you, his sweet wife, who apparently felt that his homecoming had been spent wishing he was back out on the road.

“Yes, I’m sure,” he finally said. He cupped your face in his hands, reading something sad and needful in your expression but unable to figure out how to fix it. “I love being home with you, baby. I miss you so much when I’m away. You don’t know that?”

He saw your eyes sparkle with tears and wished desperately he could understand how it had gotten this bad, wished he could figure out how to fix it.

“Hey,” he said softly. He kissed you. “I love you. I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

“But it’s not — ”

“It’s perfect,” he said, gently cutting across your protest. “And though I love the way you open our home to our family, even just being with you, eating takeout in our pajamas, would have been perfect too.”

You gave him a watery smile at that, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“There’s that smile,” he said tenderly. He brushed the tears from your face. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t enough, baby. You're everything to me. You’re my heart. You know that, don’t you?”

You nodded and kissed him, and he was so happy to have helped even a little. He’d probably ask about it again, try to understand what had made you think such a thing so that you'd never have to think it again. For now, though, your family was waiting, and you seemed eager now to get back to them.

“Don't tell them I was crying,” you said, running your hands over your cheeks, trying to hide the telltale signs. “Tell them we were having a quickie or something.”

He chuckled. “I'm not sure I’m skilled enough for that to be believable, baby. Less than five minutes is a lot to ask.” He kissed your cheek. “And I won’t tell them you were crying. That’s between you and me.” To his way of thinking, a husband's job was to protect his wife at her most vulnerable, not to expose her. These moments between you, the words and soft touches and intimacy you shared — those were just for the two of you, and Josh treasured the privilege of being the one you shared yourself with when you needed a little extra love.

You took his hand, and when he was sure you were ready, he led you back out to where your family waited.

He saw you return to your usual self as the night went on, and he loved to hear your laugh and watch your smile light up your face as you spent time with your family. Sam, Danny, Jake, and Sparrow — they never failed to bring warmth and light with them wherever they went, and Josh knew that there was no better medicine than their terrible jokes and affectionate bickering and safe, easy love. You were always beautiful, but joy made you ravishing; you shone as brightly as the sun when you were happy, and he felt a weight come off his shoulders as you came back to yourself.

After dinner, you found a spot on the couch; as Josh went to fix glasses of wine for both of you, he watched the drama unfolding in the living room. Catty corner to you, Sam and Jake were playing guitar, Sam casually and Jake with characteristic seriousness; Sparrow sat perched on the arm of Sam’s chair, and Danny sat on the floor.

“Watch him,” Danny said, slipping a hair tie from his wrist and aiming it like a slingshot at Jake. “I bet he won’t stop playing.”

“No, Danny!” Sparrow giggled around the straw stuck in her wine glass. “That would be so mean to my poor Jakey.”

“He wont’ even notice,” Danny said, unable to hide an impish smile. “Watch.”

He shot the hair tie at Jake, and it popped him on the forehead before tumbling down the guitar and landing on the floor. Jake didn’t miss a beat.

Danny and Sparrow dissolved in uproarious laughter, and Jake merely rolled his eyes with a telltale smile.

“You’re all idiots,” he said.

“Not me!” Sam protested. He watched Jake’s fingers, invested in learning the tune now. “I’m trying to play with you, but geez, can you dial it down from rock god so I can figure it out?”

Jake slowed his playing, talking Sam through the notes, and good-naturedly accepted a kiss on his forehead from Sparrow. Danny tried to find the hair tie again and hit Sam with it when he did, earning himself a nudge with Sam’s foot that made Danny laugh and lean his head against Sam’s knee in apology.

Josh brought your drinks over to the couch and handed yours to you. “For you, baby.”

You accepted it gratefully and patted the spot next to you. “Thanks, honey. Come sit with me.”

He did, draping one arm over the back of the couch behind you, pleased when you scooched closer to him. He gave you a sweet, chaste kiss.

“Feeling better, baby?” he asked gently.

You couldn’t help a dull blush, but you gave him a bashful smile. “Yes. I’m sorry I was so... tearful earlier.”

“That’s alright, honey. Would you mind telling me what it was that got you so upset?”

You ran the pad of your thumb over the bottom of your wineglass. He was patient as he waited for you to gather your thoughts.

“It’s silly,” you said finally. “You’ll either laugh or be annoyed that I made such a big deal about it.”

He considered that. You usually took things in your stride, and neither of you made a habit of being offended or upset over trivial, accidental things. Whatever it was, it had hurt you, and he would validate that feeling no matter what it turned out to be.

“I promise I won’t laugh,” he said. “And I don't think I’ll be annoyed.” He really just wanted to know what it was, and he told you so.

Your nervous, wandering fingers found his, and he was content to let you play with his wedding ring. You brushed your thumb over the shiny gold surface.

“It was your caption,” you said. “You know, for those pictures you posted.”

He was bemused for a moment. “Oh. Really?”

“Yeah,” you admitted quietly. “There’s no greater feeling in the world than returning to the stage. It is my ethereal living room. A place where things feel lighter than air. I love you.”

If anyone had asked him to recite from memory the caption he’d written himself, he couldn't have done it. The fact that you knew it word for word told him you must have been saying it over and over again in your head since you’d read it.

He thought of the wording in light of your feelings and saw how it could have hurt you. It had been their first show back after a long break spent at home, and while you were in your plain old living room at home and missing him, he’d apparently been away in a much better living room doing much more exciting and wonderful things without you. Of course he hadn’t really been comparing a concert to the home he shared with you — it was only an Instagram caption, after all, and not a serious commentary on his life. But even though he felt it was reasonable for you to have known that, he also knew that sometimes the heart wasn’t reasonable.

He twined his fingers with yours. “Sweet baby,” he said. “I’m sorry it hurt you. It wasn’t my intention at all. I don’t know if it helps, but I wasn’t thinking about our real life living room when I wrote that. I just thought it sounded clever.”

“I know,” you said. You gave him a wobbly smile. “It was clever. It’s sweet. And the fans deserve a little love note from you. I just...”

“You just missed me,” he said, brushing his knuckles over your cheek. “I know, baby. I missed you too.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I’m sorry I made such a big deal out of it. I could have just been honest that I was upset. But really, I should have just taken it like you meant it and not started catastrophizing, thinking you weren’t happy at home.”

“Well, sometimes our imaginations run away with us,” he said, patient and kind. “For the record, I am happy at home with you, baby. You in your old sundress making regular blackberry cobbler is the kind of thing I dream about when I'm away from you. And if I could only have one, I’d pick our less-than-ethereal living room and be glad to share it with you for as long as I lived.”

You touched his cheek. “Why are you so sweet to me?”

“Because I love you very much,” he said simply. He kissed you. “Tell me you know that.”

“I know that,” you said softly, tenderly. “Of course I know that. I love you very much too.”

He kissed you again, taking his time, drawing you closer to him. You tasted like sweet wine and sounded so pretty when your breath caught, your fingers brushing through his curls, your heartbeat light and fast under his hands, almost ethereal.

From the other side of the living room, there was a vague commotion and contagious laughter from Sparrow and his brothers.

“Should we check on them?” you asked, your voice muffled and smiley as you kissed him.

He chuckled. “They’re fine. Hush and let me kiss you.”

You did, and when you threw your arms around his neck to pull him even closer, he decided you weren’t ethereal after all. The two of you together, surrounded by the ones you loved, laughter and joy and music filling your home — it was something better than ethereal, something earthy and imperfect and steady. For all he loved his work, this right here was exactly what he wanted.

“I love you, Mrs. Kiszka,” he said gently.

You smiled and set everything right in his world. “I love you too, Joshy.”

@wideminded-dreamer and @spark-my-nature were particularly excited for this one so hey here you go <3

#i'm gonna do a taglist rb later hopefully with the new list from my new form! yay #also i hope this is not a case of a fic where the header is better than the story dkhjbfhb it's just a short sweet little fic :')#i do like this header tho :)#josh kiszka fluff #josh kiszka x reader #josh x baby #cabin fever fics #greta van fleet fanfiction #gvf fanfiction #maddie writes stuff!

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inuhalfdemon · 5 months

Text

No One Can Know... (4/?)

Word Count: 2,270

Chapter 4

"Meet me on your best behavior, meet me at your worst…" - Death Cab for Cutie

Wondering who-the-fuck-in-Hell would be there knocking this late at night; Lucifer opened his door. Seeing that it was, in fact, Alastor standing at his threshold with a seemingly pleasant smile across his face; Lucifer immediately bristled.

“What in fuck’s – wait. Is that wine?” Lucifer peered behind Alastor’s waist; seeing his separated shadow clasping a large bottle of Riesling and a pair of wine glasses.

“Yes. I thought it might pair well with our…discussions. May I?” Alastor asked him, politely.

“…yeah, ok.” Lucifer stepped aside; letting him in.

Alastor stepped inside; his shadow following close behind. The shadow paused briefly beside Lucifer; offering him the bottle. Lucifer took it, and the shadow swept further inward to be closer to Alastor. Looking at the label; Lucifer closed the door.

“Where in Hell did you get this!?”

“I don’t just deal in souls; your grace.” Alastor told him. “And I’m rather partial to a rare vintage every now and again. This one has been made ready for us to enjoy.”

“No shit. Damn.” Lucifer led him to a small suite; directing him and his shadow to some plush chairs and an ornate table for them to recline by. There were less rubber ducks and circus trinkets scattered throughout here than were piled in his work-room. Alastor didn’t seem to pay much attention to the surrounding room though; his gaze never straying across items, walls, furniture, etc. He was very focused on his business here.

Alastor’s shadow; taking the bottle from Lucifer – opened it and began pouring wine into the two glasses. Alastor and Lucifer both sat down. Lucifer reached across for his wine glass; then leaning back he asked:

“So…what the fuck do you want to talk about?”

“I’m sure you are well aware of the subject matter that I wish to address with you tonight.” Alastor said; taking his own glass from the table and gently swirling the liquid. His shadow excused itself into a dark corner nearby.

“Hm…how forthright of you. You seem to be in a more…agreeable…mood tonight than you were yesterday.”

“The extermination is merely a couple months away…I had hoped that I might avoid having to address my…“rut” until sometime after, but I’m afraid that won’t be the case.” Alastor explained. “I’d like to discuss the best…approach to the problem; if you are so inclined.”

“Uh, huh.” Lucifer said dismissively. “So, what exactly are we discussing then?”

“I’m afraid that the effects of the cycle will greatly influence my duties in safeguarding Charlie and the hotel. During that time, I won’t be getting much sleep and –“

“Do you actually sleep?” Lucifer interrupted, prodding him.

“Yes.” Alastor answered him honestly. “Maybe not as much as most but I do require a reasonable amount.”

“I must have really taken the wind out of your sails.” Lucifer tipped his glass to his lips. “I didn’t anticipate you coming here and being so candid with me.”

“Yes, well, I can admit when I’ve made an ass of myself.” Alastor allowed.

Knowing this was as close to an apology as he was liable to get; Lucifer stated: “Well, I won’t say that I’m sorry. If anything, I think I should have gutted you sooner.”

Lucifer waited for Alastor to make a quip at that but then; he said nothing. Instead, he raised his own glass to sip from – offering no comment.

Interesting.

“Ok, so I assume you are wanting to formulate some plan going forward, is that it?” Lucifer clarified.

“Indeed. Initially, I preferred the idea of you safely displacing me from the hotel until I cycled out but, the timing is not ideal. There’s too much to be done and I don’t like the idea of leaving the hotel unguarded for any extended length of time.”

“Ah, lock you away in a tower just like you’re Rapunzel and I’m the dragon.” Lucifer japed; unable to help himself.

“I don’t recall a dragon in that particular fairy tale.” Alastor remarked.

Lucifer nearly choked on his wine. “The fuck do you know about fairy tales!?”

Alastor shrugged then waved him off; “Essentially…I suppose, but it’s not a good solution; not now.”

“Oh?” Lucifer absently traced a sharp claw around the rim of his wine glass. “How long do these things usually last for you, anyway?”

“You are somewhat familiar with Cervidae demons, yes? You’ve commented on it once before. We are commonly known for our deer-like tendencies. One very prominent one being that we experience fluctuating periods of cyclic mating periods or “the rut”. There’s a lot that gets rather muddled with it though; it’s confusing even for us demons that experience it because each and every individual is different in the timing, frequency or intensity of their own personal mating cycles.”

“Sounds frustrating.” Lucifer offered.

“It…is. I never know when a rut will happen or for how long. I can usually tell when one is approaching due to certain…changes. Even now though; I know one is coming I just don’t know when. I could start the cycle tomorrow or in a couple of weeks; it’s terribly inconvenient. Judging by personal experience; my cycles range anywhere from part of a day to several weeks. Unfortunately; avoidance is what lengthens the period. If I…sate, the need and rather quickly, the period tends to be much less.”

“So what if I contact Asmodeus? I’m sure we could find you some willing participant from the lust ring to fulfill whatever needs you need satiating.” Lucifer suggested. “He might even have another Cervidae in mind.”

Alastor shook his head. “I’m not comfortable with that. I assume when you offered and agreed to our deal that it was implied that you would be the actual one to…manage this. I’m afraid now it might have to be quite literal. Lilith wasn’t wrong in saying that I’ve killed other demons during my rutting. After your explicit demonstration yesterday; I am confident you would be well equipped in governing my actions.”

“Honestly, I meant it in whatever way you wish to take it. I’m no prude.” Lucifer shrugged; tipping his glass. “While we’re on the subject though; I’d really like to know –“

“If you are referring to my moment of sexual homicidal infamy; I’d rather not discuss it.”

Lucifer very much wanted to prod more into it; but, he could see that Alastor was making a great effort here in being professionally courteous. Which led him to his next question;

“So, what exactly is your deal with all of this?” Lucifer asked him; setting his wine glass down now. “You’re here pitching off your plans to me like we’re discussing something terribly unpleasant. I get that you might think sex is beneath you; or rather you’d prefer you didn’t need it but, c’mon…if you have to go through it anyway, why not own it and enjoy it?”

“You misunderstand. It’s not my perception of sex that has anything to do with it.” Alastor told him. “I simply don’t…care for it.”

“What?”

“Apart from when I am in rut; it holds no interest to me.”

“None? Whatsoever, just….nothing?” Lucifer gaped at him.

“Truly.”

“So, you just can’t get it up unless you are in one of your rut thingy’s?” Lucifer was trying to make sense of this.

“Not exactly…” Alastor huffed. “With enough effort; stimulation and finding the right mindset – sure…but, it doesn’t just happen. It’s really and truly something I don’t care to think about or pursue, otherwise.”

“I can’t…I can’t wrap my head around that. I mean I-I could fuck anything that moves. Not that I really would but, well…you know.” Lucifer shrugged.

“No…actually, I don’t.” Alastor reaffirmed.

“So, do you – do you like know what you want to actually like…do?” Lucifer asked him.

“How do you mean?” Alastor’s ears slightly leant back; whether it was him being uncomfortable by the question or a display of true confusion; Lucifer couldn’t tell.

“Mutual masturbation? Oral? Anal? What have you?” Lucifer threw out.

Alastor’s ears stiffened; pressing further back. Definitely discomfort.

“When I’m in in rut; I’m sure anything and everything will be open and on the table.” He sighed.

“So do you like, turn into an even bigger asshole when your rutting?”

“No, not quite…that more tends to happen to the time leading up to it.” Alastor was telling him; briefly remembering his friend Rosie dismissing him from a brunch they were having in Cannibal Town once telling him: “come back after your damn rut; honestly, you’re worse than a woman!” He couldn’t remember details; only that he was terribly aggravating to her that day.

Meanwhile; Lucifer was waging an internal battle. So, you were PMS-ing yesterday? He very badly wanted to say it…he very nearly did, but he reigned it in; feeling it prudent to continue with the good footing they had established here.

“It’s more that I’m…” Alastor was continuing with his answer. “I’m just – Well, I can be a lot in those moments.”

The Radio Demon promises a good time… Lucifer thought, then he asked:

“Ok, so circling back. When or where are we going to…hash this all out?”

“I’m naturally crepuscular; and I’m generally more nocturnal in my activities. I can easily manage myself during the day. If we spend too much time at the hotel; even in my radio tower – we run the risk of being found out or discovered. If I spend too much time here or elsewhere; it leaves the hotel vulnerable. I propose we go back and forth; it won’t be so different to my normal activities – no one would think to question it at this point – and I have Niffty and Husker established so that if anything were to happen while I’m away; I’d know and can be there almost immediately.”

“Hm…yes, that might be wise. We can always tell Charlie that you and I buried the hatchet, as it were, and are meeting to discuss ideas with how best to proceed with the upcoming exterminations. She’ll wish to be included – of course – but if I tell her it’s something you and I are bonding or getting to know each other over; she’ll let it be.”

“How…very manipulative of you.” Alastor commented; ears perking up. He was…impressed.

“Yes, well…” Lucifer reached back for his wine; lost for a moment in his thoughts. Then leaning back in his chair again; he offered:

“You’ve been very…frank with everything tonight. Do you have any questions you wish to ask me?”

“This meeting Charlie has with Heaven…do you think it will accomplish anything?” Alastor had in fact; been holding onto some questions.

“No.” Lucifer told him bluntly. “I don’t but, Lilith foresaw Charlie asking me to arrange it. I’m not…comfortable with it but Lilith will be there – Charlie won’t know that, of course – but it’s the only reason why I’d allow my daughter to go up there without my being there with her.”

“Do you think Lilith will succeed with her plans?” Alastor asked him, wanting to know. “Do you think that she can actually overthrow Heaven?”

“If anyone; it would be her.” Lucifer finished off his glass; Alastor’s shadow quickly slid out from the corner to refill it for him. Lucifer nodded to it, taking a sip as it shifted itself back away. “She’s been planning this for some time now, making sure everything falls into just the right place at just the right time. The only hiccup we’ve ran into was you slipping yourself between the cracks but maybe that was fortunate for us – it remains to be seen.” He gave Alastor a hard look.

“If I get what I want from this, I’ll be as beneficial to your cause as I possibly can.” Alastor told him. “But, why are you choosing to do this? Weren’t you amiable toward Heaven; even after everything?”

Lucifer sighed. “Lilith has been with me through all of it…since the beginning. I’ve tried to make the amends to my mistakes; tried to make Heaven see that what we did…it wasn’t for the intentions that they thought. I’ve been fighting a losing battle for thousands upon thousands of years…Lilith stood by me; supported me all that time. Now, it’s time I stood by hers. We got nowhere with my plans and ideas for our future; so it’s time I supported hers.”

“How disgustingly devoted of you.” Alastor made a face and movement of his tongue; like he had actually tasted something terrible.

Lucifer laughed. “That’s just who we are. We depend and rely on each other.”

“So…she really has no issues with…this? What you and I are going to be doing?” Alastor asked him; wondering. “Call me ‘old fashioned’; but I’d hate to come between a man and his wife.”

“Lilith never would have agreed to it if she had reservations.” Lucifer told him. “She wasn’t lying when she told you that our relationship has been…unconventional, at times.”

“Hm…” Alastor remembered his wine and sipped from the glass.

“How long has it been for you anyway?” Lucifer asked him. “I’ll be coming out of a bit of dry spell myself; Lilith tends to get focused on other things when they’ve claimed her interest and I haven’t found much motivation in seeking out an outlet.”

“Years?” Alastor though. “Very nearly a decade, maybe.”

“Fuck.” Lucifer blurted. “You’ve got me beat then. You weren’t kidding when you said these mating cycles of yours were unpredictable.”

“Also part of the reason that I’m relying on you…specifically. I’m not sure just how…enthusiastic I might be.”

“Oh, don’t worry – my King.” Alastor fixed him with a sharp gaze. “You will know.”

“So, how will I know that you are in rut?” Lucifer questioned him.

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

Scene inspired by: @applepartysins fanart/comic here

Chapter 5

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fandom #alastor #fanfiction #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #my fanfic #lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer #lucifer magne #alastor and lucifer #alastor x lucifer #lucifer x alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #radioapple #lucifer hazbin hotel #appleradio #alastor's shadow

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 11 days

Text

Second Chance 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Jonathan Pine

Summary: You move into your parents’ house as you try to rebuild your life, catching the attention of someone you never expected.

Part of the Brother’s Best Friend Universe

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You could say it’s Jonathan who convinced you to walk into that bar but it didn’t really take much. Anything to delay your return home is welcome. You’re grateful to your parents for taking you in, yet you can’t help but feel a little dejected all the same. You didn’t exactly return home to fanfare.

Jonathan holds the door and you give him a look. He acts as if he doesn’t notice but you catch the glint of his blue eyes.

“Why don’t you grab a seat and I’ll get the drinks?” He offers, “if I recall, you were a fan of Grey Goose–”

“Oh god no, I can’t handle the headache,” you snort.

“Ah, I see you’ve converted, pint?” He insists,

“A glass of wine will do,” you insist, “riesling or sauvignon.”

“Sophisticated,” he muses.

“Relax, I usually get it in a box.”

He smirks and turns towards the bar. You look around and claim a table against the wall, just beneath a vintage show poster for some long forgotten band. You sit and place your purse against the wooden paneling.

You circle your thumb around your fingertip as you stare at the table. The finish is worn and a few slivers are missing along the edge. What are you doing here? Not just at this table in this bar, but in this town. You always said you would never come back. Now look at you.

Embarrassment tendrils up your neck. You remember how loudly you proclaimed that very sentiment, every day since you turned sixteen. To the very man you came in here with.

Jonathan finds you before you can descend too quickly into self-pity. He sits and puts a stemmed glass in front of you, a tall dark pint for himself. You reach for your purse.

“How much do I owe you? There’s an ATM–”

“My treat, as a congratulations.”

You scrunch your lips then quickly slacken them, recalling how it deepens the lines around them, “what are you up to?”

“I can’t be happy for you.”

“Please, it’s been a long time but things haven’t changed that much.”

“I have,” he insists, his voice deepening to a note that catches you offguard. You hide the slow realisation as it dawns; he is far from the stringy teen or the obnoxious coed… he’s a man and yet you don’t feel much different than that lost sixteen year old with the chip on her shoulder.

“Did I never apologise for that molasses incident?”

“Incident? Don’t try to act innocent,” you laugh. The first time you’ve truly done so in months. Looking back, those years weren’t as bad as they felt as you lived them. “I still can’t stand the smell.”

He smirks and guiltily looks down at the table, “I was a little bastard.”

“So you say but I still don’t hear an apology,” you chide, “it is what it is. It was years ago.”

“Well, if it counts for anything, I do regret it,” he meets your eye.

“If that’s your biggest regret then I think you’re doing just fine.”

“Definitely not the biggest,” he lifts his glass and holds it out, “cheers to you.”

You hesitate but clink the wine glass against the tall pint. You drink nearly half the glass before you remember to stop. You haven’t drank since the night it all imploded. You mad a point of it. Plus, your mother locked her wine away.

You put the glass down and turn it slowly by its base, “sorry, I’m not much fun. I’m sure Jaydon will be up for some drinks later. You could even break out the beer pong.”

“What do you mean?”

Your mouth pinches again.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” He asks.

“Molasses…” you mutter.

He laughs and shakes his head, “I will forever atone for that one,” he sits back, his hand against the side of his glass, “you don’t realise, you were always the cool older sister.”

“Please,” you roll your eyes.

“You were. Jaydon is Jaydon. He can’t see beyond his own nose but… well, I’m an only child, I didn’t have anyone to scare away my bullies.”

“Yeah, well, as much as I could smack Jaydon myself, that idiot was a bit obsessed, wasn’t he?”

He tilts his head, “he has no idea how lucky he is. None of them do.”

“Alright, Jonathan, I can’t take any more. I didn't come for a pity party.”

“That’s not what this is.”

“You know.”

“I know?” He wonders.

“I’m not stupid. I’m pathetic, sure. I hear my mother telling all her friends on the phone. I’m sure you’ve heard everything. It’s shitty. I lost my boyfriend and my job and my overpriced apartment and now I’m back here. And you and Jaydon have lives to go back to,” you gulp and raise your glass, swallow down the wine with your bubbling emotions, “I don’t need any more reminders.”

He watches you put down the empty glass. He stares at it before he looks you in the face, “I’ve heard what they have to say but it doesn’t mean I believe them. It’s hearsay.”

“It’s what happened. I am not the cool older sister, I’m the fuck up.”

He leans forward and slowly reaches for your wine glass, “and what have you heard about me, hm? How do you know I haven’t fucked up?”

You look at him and gesture emphatically, “come on.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he stands, “and pay you back with another glass.”

Before you can argue, he’s on his way to the bar. The tinge of wine sticks to your tongue as you watch his confident march. As you examine the way the fabric of his button down strains between his shoulders blades, you blanch. You turn straight and once more lower your eyes to the table.

No. No. It’s Jonathan. It’s your brother’s friend. It’s that skinny, reedy kid who drove you insane. You’re just lost. You’re not thinking straight. You're fresh off heartbreak, you’re not even through it. You don’t want him, you just don’t want to be alone.

He returns and you clear your throat, fixing your posture as you smile at him. He sets a full glass in front of you. Once more, your hand is on your purse, “alright, you have to let me get this one.”

“You can buy my next pint,” he gives a slanted grin, “I must warn you, I’m rather easy once I see the bottom of the glass.”

You laugh, “be careful.”

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about me, darling,” the last word flutters through you, “I’ve grown, I can handle myself.” He takes his glass again and hovers it before his lips as his winks, “and you.”

#jonathan pine #dark jonathan pine #dark!jonathan pine #jonathan pine x reader #series #drabble #au #second chance #the night manager #brother's best friend

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 9 months

Text

A well-rounded meal

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 29

Prompt: Spicy

Rated: E

CW: Sexually explicit content; D/S dynamics; cock warming; humiliation kink; praise kink; subspace (implied)

Tags: Dom!Steve; Sub!Eddie

Notes: Continued from day 6

"Y’know,” Steve muses. “I think many people really don’t understand how important dessert is for a well-rounded meal.”

He holds up his glass of wine, watches how the candlelight catches in the pale gold liquid - some sort of Riesling, Eddie thinks? Steve told him exactly what it was earlier, he’s sure. He dimly remembers a full-on monologue on body and tasting notes and whatnot, why this one was a perfect fit for the pasta and asparagus they were having … but it’s all sort of hazy now, lost in the low buzz of the alcohol, the low drone of the music playing in the background, Steve’s voice slowly seeping into his bones.

Steve takes a thoughtful sip of his wine and sets the glass back down on the table.

“Because, see,” he continues, “many people treat dessert as more of an afterthought to the main course. Just something you slap at the end of the meal to gobble down and be done with."

He chuckles to himself, scoops a small helping of lemon mousse from his plate and pops it into his mouth. He hums around the spoon as it melts on his tongue, and the sound vibrates all the way down Eddie’s spine.

He must've made a noise, because Steve pauses and glances at him, an indulgent smile gracing his handsome face.

"The truth is," he murmurs, fingers tightening against the back of Eddie’s head, threading into his hair, nails scraping over his scalp. "A well-done dessert is actually what completes a meal. It's… something to look forward to, something to savor and enjoy. A special indulgence to conclude the menu. Don't you agree?"

Eddie tries to answer, but the words turn into a throaty hum instead, muffled by the warm, heavy weight pressing down on his tongue. Steve laughs and pets his hair.

His eyes are beautiful in the flickering candlelight, more gold than hazel, full of that fond condescension that settles low in Eddie's abdomen like a hot, liquid weight. He looks regal, the way he's regarding him, like a haughty prince looking at a servant, like this is exactly where they both belong. Steve reclining in his chair with his glass of wine, the first few buttons of his dress shirt casually undone. Eddie on his knees under the table, golden light glinting off flushed, naked skin. Lips stretched around Steve's cock, drool running down his chin, eyes glazed over with arousal.

"Enjoying your dessert, then?" Steve asks. His fingers travel from Eddie’s hair to his cheek, pat it lightly, and Eddie wonders if he can feel the bulge of himself there. "It's okay, you don't have to speak. You can blink. Once for no, twice for yes. Understand?"

Eddie is dimly aware that he's been asked a question, that Steve is expecting him to do something. The thing is, his head is all fuzzy, his body tingly and light, like he isn't really here at all and he doesn't … he can't-

"Hey, baby," Steve chuckles, and pinches his chin between his fingers. Not hard, just enough to pull him back with that gentle pressure. "Stay with me. God, aren't you the sweetest thing? All floaty already, just from keeping my cock warm for me."

He winks, a slow and deliberate thing. The praise and the humiliation and the lust all mingle together, like a delicious cocktail laced with poison. Eddie's cock twitches against the fabric of Steve’s pants, where he's straddling his leg. Steve smiles, bright and happy and impossibly pretty.

"Certainly looks like you're enjoying yourself," he muses. "Gonna need you to tell me though, sweetie. Blink twice if you're good, can you do that for me?"

Eddie rocks himself against Steve’s leg, can't keep in the moan that claws its way out of him. The sound makes his throat constrict around Steve's cock, and all that comes out in the end is a pathetic, nasal whine. Steve tilts his head, waits.

Eddie draws in a shuddering breath through his nose, lets it out slowly, pulls himself together.

Blink, you can do it.

Once … twice.

"There you go," Steve coos. "Good boy."

One lean, strong hand caresses Eddie’s cheekbones and his eyes flutter closed in pleasure.

Only to snap back open in alarm a few seconds later, when Steve hooks a thumb into his mouth and pops his lips open. Suddenly, Eddie’s mouth and throat are empty again, all of that delicious weight and warmth gone.

Steve has started to stroke himself in slow, teasing motions. When Eddie finally manages to tear his gaze up, he is smiling down at him, glass of wine still lazily held in his other hand.

"Oh, honey, don't pout. I haven't forgotten about you."

Eddie startles as Steve’s leaking tip nudges his bottom lip.

"Now," Steve says, voice low and sultry and commanding. "Open wide. We're not done with your meal yet."

All my holiday drabbles

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie holiday drabbles #hype's holiday drabbles

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izvmimi · 2 years

Text

love is here - izuku x reader, all might x inko

cw: fluff, smut, domestic, valentine's day content. bkg with mentioned female partner. pregnancy mention. minors dni. summary: you and Izuku decide to celebrate another couple's love this Valentine's Day. a/n: a repost from last year's valentines' day fic because i still think it's cute. features 1 terrible joke.

“Red or white?”

While checking the chicken cutlets still browning in the oven, you reflexively call out in reply,

“Red. Has to be red.”

“Of course.”

Closing the oven door, you glance over at Izuku who is hunched over in the glass cabinet in the portion of the living room you can see from your vantage point, and hear the clinking of glass bottles as your husband rummages through your admittedly small stores of alcohol. He pulls out a classic Pinot, and you recognize it as the pretty expensive one Bakugou and his wife (well mostly his wife, really) offered you months ago when you’d first moved into this new home.

“This one?” He asks.

You tilt your head slightly, pondering. “Does your mom even like red wine at all?”

“I’m actually not sure,” he thinks, frowning as he attempts to recall any time he might have caught her drinking.

You purse your lips. “I think we have a Riesling in there. It’s sweet, she might like it,” you ask, before turning back to the kitchen to set up the rest of the dinner items.

Taking a glance at your phone, you check to see if Toshinori has replied to your text message requesting his ETA. The last answer you have from him is a sticker of his own face giving you a thumbs up and it makes you stifle a laugh. It kills you every time he does it, truly Dad behavior.

As Izuku rounds the corner of the kitchen island to place the bottles within a decorative ice bucket on the dining table, he presses a kiss to your forehead. You smile, but then you remember his earlier deceit and shake your head.

“I cannot believe you told Inko I was pregnant!”

He rearranges the bottles as well as a large bouquet of red, pink and white roses with a devious grin on his face, then raises an eyebrow at you.

“Is it really that bad?” He asks, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “It’s just a little white lie.”

“Villain,” you mutter under your breath just as your timer goes off. He laughs out loud.

The next few moments involve you laying down two fine placemats across from each other, your nicest china, far too much cutlery (based on a guide both of you read about fine dining), and sparkling crystal glasses. Herbed chicken parmesan, steaming buttery lobster, roasted brussels sprouts, garlicky mashed potatoes, and angel hair pasta lightly tossed with olive oil and stewed grape tomatoes are set on the table along a light salad. You remembered something about All Might liking Western food and wondered if this was what he was thinking of.

Then you suddenly remembered something else.

“Oh noooo, he doesn’t drink!” you exclaim. Before you can scramble for non-alcoholic options, Izuku has placed a particularly decorative container of sparkling water on the table.

“Just ahead of you,” he says. Always ready to save the day.

Water seems a little lackluster for a romantic dinner, you consider grumbling, but the table looks so beautiful by now that you decide not to let the perfect be the enemy of the good.

“Everything looks amazing!” You announce, clasping your hands together. Izuku agrees and starts the music while you lower the lights, a very light jazzy mix, and as though right on cue, you hear a knock on the door while Izuku begins to light the red and pink candles one by one.

It’s Inko.

She’s dressed far nicer than you usually see her, green locks fully down for once, and you can tell that she’s taken her time to actually perform the skincare routine you’d recommended for her. In fact, you consider that her skin looks a lot healthier than yours and it brings you joy. There’s even a tiny bit of blush she’s applied to her cheeks and a touch of lipstick. The greatest thing she wears however, aside from her coral pink sheath dress, is a wide smile.

“___, congratulations!”

Your mother-in-law envelops you into a hug and for a moment her genuine unbridled joy makes you feel bad that Deku had come up with such a bad lie. You mentally remind yourself to scold him later a second time as you hug her back.

“I- uh… Yeah!” There’s an awkward laugh you let out as she pulls back and holds you by your arms, small tears of joy forming in her eyes. Your stomach turns.

“He told me there would be pictures so I dressed up and-” she starts, but by this time Izuku senses your discomfort and swoops in between you to give his mother a warm hug, then leads her to her seat.

Inko is asking so many questions - How many weeks? Have we thought of names? Are you doing okay? Are you nervous? - that she doesn’t realize her son has sat her down and unraveled a napkin to place on her lap. Nor has she noticed that there are only two placemats laid out, or that you have just gotten a text from Toshinori that says he’ll be there in five minutes.

Smiling as Izuku stands besides her and deflects all her questions, you wonder if all of this is ethical. You may be teasing Izuku for his lie, but you’ve also told All Might that you were surprising Izuku for his birthday and throwing a party.

“That’s five months early?!” He’d asked on the phone.

To which, you sang, “That’s why it’s the perfect surprise!”

You’d given him too short of a notice to ask too many questions, and it worked out perfectly well because you could hear a second knock on your door.

As Inko’s eyes flitted to the door, her frown made it clear that she was realizing something was fishy.

“Am I missing something here?” she started, but before she could press further, All Might all but burst through the door, in powered up form and in a finely pressed shirt and tie, with his signature catchphrase -

“I AM HE-”

He stops abruptly, blinking back and forth as he searches the room significantly lacking in people, slightly dark with mood lighting, and his eyes finally settle on Inko.

And he realizes just before she does.

Inko gets to her feet quickly, immediately apologizing at the squeak of the legs of the chair scraping against the floor as she scoots back, but points at All Might.

“You are-”

“Here,” they say in unison.

All Might nearly chokes as he powers down in a poof and slightly entertained but holding in your amusement, you pat his back, leading him to the seat across from Inko, who is being settled right back into her chair by Izuku massaging her shoulders.

“You tricked me,” Toshinori mutters helplessly under his breath, and you nod sweetly.

“Of course I did, All Might,” you say, patting his shoulder. He gives you a sharp glare behind him, meant to intimidate but failing miserably, then turns back to stare down at his plate.

It doesn’t take a genius to realize what’s going on here. You can see the redness on Toshinori’s sallow cheeks and it actually stirs your heart a little.

Izuku turns down the music from the speaker set on the bar for just a moment before clasping his hands together.

“Yes, so we lied!” He announces. “But!”

He pauses and points to the spread before them. “____ did a lovely job today with all the cooking, and we wanted to spend this Valentines’ Day focused less on us…”

With this, he takes hold of your hand and squeezes it and you can’t stop the warmth that builds in your own face.

“… and on the two of you.”

Inko gives Izuku a look that is something like a pout but she stays seated. All Might on the other hand shifts almost uncomfortably in his chair for a moment, and for a split second you wonder, standing close to Izuku and whispering, did we go too far? in his ear, if All Might will end up leaving and making the whole ordeal genuinely uncomfortable.

But then, he clears his throat.

“M-Midoriya-san, you look lovely,” he says definitively and almost in unison, you and Izuku’s hearts skip a beat. You’re probably boring a hole in Inko’s forehead at this point as you wait for her reply, and just to make sure you don’t continue to stand there creepily you nudge Izuku to start pouring drinks.

“Thank you,” she says after a pause. Her voice is gentle. “You look quite handsome yourself.”

You almost knock over her glass of red wine in surprise and Izuku’s eyes widen in your direction, but he himself is dangerously close to overflowing Toshinori’s glass.

You make a face and he catches himself. You both agree that it’s time to leave.

After describing the menu lightly, the two of you let them know that you’ll be returning in a couple hours and have reservations of your own. Inko mutters something teasing about being cheap to one’s parents but heavily compliments the food regardless. You notice her generously spooning pasta onto Toshinori’s plate and his distracted look as he focuses on her face.

This ship will sail, you think.

“The car’s waiting for us,” Izuku points out, grinning, as you run over with a last glance at Izuku’s parental figures. He helps you put on your coat, and you hug him tightly as the door closes behind you.

…

By the time the two of you return, it’s fairly late. You’d been polite enough to send a message to Inko and ask her if she needed more time, and she had asked for 45 more minutes, to which Izuku responded with sheer delight.

“She’s been lonely for a while to be honest,” Izuku mentions as you make it up the elevator. “I wish I had realized it earlier.”

It must have been different for Izuku who had met Toshinori young, when the wistful look had not been present in Inko’s eyes, but you’d sensed it the first time you saw Inko and All Might interact. A little something, that was subtle and polite and respected boundaries, but ever-present and shared. Was it their shared hope for Izuku’s growth? Was it something more than that? You would never truly know what it was that engendered that affection but it didn’t really matter.

What did matter was that when you finally returned, All Might’s hand held Inko’s gently across the table. He did retreat rapidly once he saw the two of you and you only pretend to bounce your eyes for privacy.

“Did you enjoy the food?” Izuku asks cheerfully, as he clears the dishes and the leftovers for them. The Riesling is nearly gone, you notice, and you wonder if All Might had ended up helping finish off the bottle.

“Absolutely!” They say in unison, then look at each other again, and you can see that gentle fire between them that rivals the still burning candles surrounding them.

“Good,” you reply. Very good.

You sit down at the table with them and share in gentle commentary and a little bit of banter before the two are ready to make their exit and relish in the genuine smile on Inko’s face.

She’s cute when she crushes, you think. It’s another side of the lovely woman who made the one you love, and you can’t wait to tease her about it later, if only to get back at her for the fact that before the “real” adults leave, they admonish you for lying.

“Pregnancy?! How could you lie about something so serious, Young Midoriya?!”

All Might is genuinely in shock as he stands in the doorway and for once Izuku actually is a bit embarrassed because his mentor’s face is so intensely disappointed that there’s not much he can say in response. He scratches at the back of his neck.

“See, the kids were polite enough to give you a lie that was far less grave… however, how could you seriously believe in a 5 month early surprise party?” Inko asks, slapping All Might with her handbag. He makes an exaggerated pained sound, as though she knocked the wind out of him and she laughs, linking arms with him before they leave.

“Thank you again for dinner,” they say and the two of you beam.

“Our pleasure,” you say in unison then laugh.

—

It takes the changing of clothes into bare skin and soft lingerie, gentle necking between satin sheets and far too many rose petals to completely distract the two of you from the events of earlier today. You are comfortably nestled in Izuku’s arms, legs tangled with his and face pressed into his bare chest until he stirs suddenly.

“Oh my God.”

Izuku shoots up straight like a board and you can practically feel the sudden sharp panic run through his entire body. He’s muttering something unintelligible under his breath and you give him a look of confusion until he finally speaks.

“What if he Plus Ultras my mom?”

“… What?” You repeat, incredulously.

He clutches his head dramatically.

“H-he’s going to have sex…with my…” his mouth falters.

You gasp when you finally realize what he means, then pause for a moment before bursting into genuine rip-roaring laughter. Izuku stares at you in continued distress as you end up in tears, covering your face with a pillow, peeking up at him, then laughing even harder at the pallor in his features.

“You have to be kidding me?! This just occurred to you now???” You crumble into another fit, kicking your legs this time into the mattress while Izuku is frozen as still as a statue.

He might as well be shell-shocked.

A few moments pass as you try to recollect yourself, and maybe acceptance has finally set in because he mutters under his breath something about this whole ordeal possibly being a mistake, but nevertheless pulls you to face him, cupping your face in his large hands.

“Just don’t think too hard about it,” you whisper, pushing your hand through his locks, gently rubbing the back of his head.

He sighs into your touch.

“If I do, I’ll probably lose my boner,” he says, pursing his lips to the side. You laugh again and he eventually melts into a smile, and kisses you on the nose.

As he pulls back, his demeanor changes into something more smug, a tease. It’s the type of look he has when he’s about to be lewd and it’s a sudden shift but you welcome it.

“What?”

His eyes lower to your lips again, and he bites your lower one, then pulls back slowly.

“You know how I got in trouble for saying you were pregnant?”

“For lying,” you corrected him, with a raised eyebrow. He dips down and bites your upper lip, slower and more sensual this time. The sting of the bite has you wanting for a little more than just kisses, and he’s well aware of it.

He trails a finger up the curve of your thigh then rests his hand on your hip. Rubbing gently, he whispers, tone low and rich.

“What if we made it true tonight?”

Your throat dries and you swallow hard. He takes it as a yes and hooks a finger around the crotch of your panties, then another finger rubs up and down your slit. He stops right at the entrance to your pussy and presses inward. You wince.

A thumb finds your clit and his lips find yours again. There’s a deeper kiss this time, and he pulls back once again.

“What do you think?” He asks, and the fact that he is starting to take more strained breaths is not lost on you.

“Are you sure you can guarantee that in one night?” He’s far too confident, and you do like to shake it teasingly, once in a while.

“It’s not like I didn’t do the math,” he says. “You should be right around ovulation based on the last time I did a tampon and ice cream run for you,” he insists.

His fingers are still working and you gasp as he adds another.

“Izuku…,” you moan.

“I just need to cum inside you,” he insists, and with that he shifts so that he’s on top of you, hissing into your ear as your back arches and his hands pump.

“Once, twice… maybe ten times,” he says, with extra emphasis on the word ‘ten’, his fingers freeing themselves from the hold of your walls. You already miss the sensation of him inside you, and you grip his shoulders tightly.

“How’s that sound?” He asks, watching the lowering of your eyelids and the parting of your lips, your green lights.

You tense as he dips down to take a breast in his mouth, then relax, wrapping your arms around the expanse of his muscled back.

You don’t mind giving birth to a Scorpio.

“Let’s make an honest man out of you,” you murmur into his neck, bracing yourself for his first glide in.

#izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku smut #all might x inko #daydreams: bnha #thoughts: izuku #mimi's valentines #mimi's notes

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