#I miss him..... I miss my dear wife............

[alastwhorez]

may i request something where reader watches alastor undress. him slowly taking off his coat… sliding off the straps of his suspenders… rolling his sleeves up to his elbows…

Talking Body

♡ Pairing: Human!Alastor x Afab!Reader

♡ summary: Alastor has been neglecting you lately, so he decides to give you a show.

♡ warnings: 18+, MDNI, stripping, needy reader, neglected reader, masturbation, voyeurism, bodily fluids, Alastor is a tease, pet names. I think that is everything.

♡ an: Thank you so much for the request. I hope you enjoy! Not proofread, possible spelling errors

The day was long and boring. Being a stay at home wife you tend to run out of things to do by the end of the week. All the chores were finished and dinner was in the oven.

You were glad it was finally time for your husband to get home. You've missed him dearly. He has been working late hours at the radio station the past several weeks. Not returning home till late in the night, long after you have finally gone to sleep. This morning however Alastor had promised you he would be home on time. Telling you he had a surprise for you.

Since your husband has been working late he has started to neglect you intimately. Alastor was never one for physical contact but he always made sure you were taken care of.

You checked the clock and saw you still had about an hour before he should return Home and another twenty minutes for the food to cook. You decided it was a perfect time to take care of the ache between your legs.

You spread out on the couch, hiked your dress up over your hips and pulled the top down to expose your tits. Your hand trailed down your body till you found your Clothed cunt. You push your panties to the side and rub your finger up and down before finding your bundle of nerves. After a few minutes you slip a finger inside and start pumping.

You whine because it's not as good as Alastors cock, doesn't stretch you the same way. You speed up fingers trying to find release when the door slams Open.

Alastor is standing in the doorway with flowers and a shocked look on his face when his eyes land on you. You gasp and stop moving.

“My my my, what is my lovely wife doing?” He says smirking in a teasing tone.

Your mouth hangs open not knowing how to respond. “Couldn't wait for your dear old husband to come home? Tsk tsk tsk” He shakes his head back and forth. “Just what am I going to do with you darlin'?”

He shuts the door with his foot as he walks into the living room, playing the flowers on the coffee table. He grabs your hand and takes you to your shared bedroom.

He pushes you down gently to sit on the bed as he grabs a chair and places it in front of you in the middle of the room. He sits down and spreads his legs wide.

“I suppose I have been neglectful these past few weeks, but that doesn't mean you're allowed to touch yourself.”

You whine in embarrassment

“Now you're going to be a good girl and sit there and behave yourself. Bad girls don't get rewarded.”

You nod your head as you bite your lip

“You're going to keep those pretty eyes on me and you aren't going to move a muscle. Understand love?

You nod again and he whispers good girl.

You watch as Alastor takes off his jacket and hat, sitting them beside you on the bed, then you watch as he loosens his bowtie, pulling the fabric and twisting his head back and forth. Next he unbuttons the sleeve of his shirt and slowly starts to roll the right sleeve, exporting his toned, tanned arms, next me moves to the left side rolling even slower.

His eyes stay on you the whole time, a slight smirk on his face when you fidget on the bed and play with your fingers.

He spreads his legs further apart as he trails his hand slowly down his body stopping at his belt, he tilts his head to the side when your breath hitches. Laughing he slowly undoes the buckles and makes a shower of pulling the leather out of his lands. He folds it up and sits it beside you.

He runs his hand back up his chest and stops at his bowtie. He removes it, throwing it towards you. He fists his suspenders before slowly sliding them off his shoulders and removing them completely. His hand then lands on the first button of his shirt. He slowly starts unbuttoning his shirt one button at a time.

Your legs are rubbing together at this point and you're fisting the sheets on the bed. Alastor is smirking at you as he continues to agonizingly Slow undoing his shirt. When He finishes he lets it hang open and you have to hold back a groan from how delicious he looks.

He slowly lets the fabric fall down his shoulders then His arms, letting it hit the floor. He leans back in the chair and stretches. You watch as his Muscles Flex as he moves. He raises an eyebrow at you as you rub your legs together harder.

His hands run back down his chest and stop at his pants. He lifts his hips up slowly then sits back down. He unbuttons them and slowly slides the zipper down. His eyes are trained on you as he pushes them down his hips then down his legs. He folds them and sits them on the bed then he removes his socks next.

He's left in nothing but his boxers and you moan at the sight. He chuckles as your flushed face. You've hiked your dress back up because of your fisting the fabric. You can see the outline Of his cock and a wet spot forming on his boxers. He lifts his hips and slowly slides them down,leaving them forgotten on the floor.

You suck in a breath at his naked figure. His cock stands tall, leaking. He notices you biting your lip and decides to tease you some more. He wants to see how long you can control yourself.

He fists his cock, giving it a squeeze before lazily stroking it.

“Alastor” you say breathlessly and be chuckles

“What darlin'? I said good girls get rewarded and you've been a bad girl. Touching yourself While I'm Gone”

You whine

You can see the tip glisten from how much he is leaking. it's spilling over onto his fist acting as lubrication. He speeds up his first and moans your name as he throws his head back. While he isn't looking you lean back and spread your legs, pulling your panties down.

When Alastor looks back at you he is met with your cunt on full display and his breath hitches. You suck a finger into your mouth before it finds your bundle of nerves And you start rubbing. You throw your head back and moan, back arching.

He says your Name more stern this time and you moan out his name “Oh Alastor, faster”

He groans and his fist Matches the speed of your finger. Your other hand comes down and you slip a finger in then two. He cups his balls as he watches you matching your pace.

You're both moaning and growing, trying to outlast the other.

“fuck” He curses. Something he hardly ever does. “Look at you. All spread out and giving me a show. So pretty baby, prettiest I've ever seen ya.”

“Alastor! Yes, just like that” you scream as you add a third finger and speed up your pumping.

Alastor grits his teeth feeling his release coming. Your back arches as you feel yours.

“Squeezing me so well baby, pussy was made for me”

You moan feeling that familiar heat flood your senses. You scream his name as you cum all over your fingers.

Alastor moans your name, his eyes rolling back as he shoots his load all over his first. The sight of you pushing him over the edge.

You both sit there for a moment catching your breath. Alastor gets up out of the chair and crawls on top of you.

“That Was a good show darlin’ but how ‘bout I give you the real thing?”

[writingrock]

before he leaves [1]

pairings: prohero! katsuki bakugou, prohero! eijiro kirishima, prohero! denki kaminari x reader (female) summary: your prohero husband is being called away to a two-week long mission. this is how he says goodbye.

notes: fluff, mild suggestive content, it's just really cute and sweet, I can't say much more.

word count: 3.7k

a/n: for @onlyisaa becuz apparantly putting bakugou in a timeout is unacceptable

Bakugou’s been called in for a mission overseas. It’s rare, but when it happens, you know it’s something serious. The night before, you couldn’t help but fuss over every little detail. You’d double-checked all of his luggage, then triple-checked it. And now you’re pacing around the room with your mind running through everything he might need. You’d gone over his gear so many times that even Bakugou, usually patient with your worry, had enough. 

“Damn it, woman,” he grumbled, grabbing you by the waist and physically dragging you to bed. You’d protested at first, but he ignored you, muttering under his breath, “You need to quit worrying so much, you’re driving me crazy.”

Despite his words, there was a softness in the way he pulled you into his arms, his grip firm but comforting. His frustration was just his way of masking how much he appreciated your care. He knew you worried because you loved him, but that didn’t stop him from teasing you about it. Even as you lay there, you could feel him quietly shaking his head in amusement, the corners of his lips curling into a smirk as he muttered, "My dear wife, always stressing." 

Still, as much as he tried to calm your nerves, there was a part of him that understood. Missions like this didn’t come often, and both of you knew the stakes. And despite the bravado, despite his confidence, Bakugou knew how hard it was for you every time he had to leave.

It’s five in the morning now, and you’re standing by the door, watching as he slips his phone and passport into his pocket. You stifle a yawn, your voice still groggy from sleep. “How long will you be gone again?”

“Two weeks,” he replies gruffly, his eyes meeting yours. You frown at his answer. Two weeks felt like forever without him. Did he really have to go? Your thoughts are full of protest, but you keep them to yourself.

“Are you sure you have everything?” you ask again, for what feels like the hundredth time. Bakugou lets out an exasperated groan, his head tilting back as he closes his eyes in frustration. 

“Woman, for the last time, yes, I’ve got everything,” he grumbles, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. His crimson eyes flick back to you, softening slightly despite the annoyance in his voice. “I’m not a damn rookie.”

You know he’s right, of course. Bakugou’s meticulous when it comes to preparation, probably more so than you are. Still, the thought of him leaving for two whole weeks on a dangerous mission makes your stomach twist in knots. You can’t help it— it’s in your nature to worry. And Bakugou knows that too.

He glances at you, and for a moment, his stern expression softens even more. He steps toward you, dropping his backpack onto the floor and resting his hands on your shoulders. “Hey,” he says, his voice lower now, gentler. “I’ve done this a million times. I’ll be fine.”

You nod, biting your lip, but he can see the lingering concern in your eyes. He sighs, pulling you into his chest. His arms wrap around you, strong and warm, and for a moment, you can pretend he’s not about to walk out the door.

“I’ve got everything, alright?” he murmurs against your hair. “Except maybe for one thing.”

You pull back slightly, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow. “What’s that?”

He smirks, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “You. But I’ll be back before you know it.”

Does he really have to go?

“Yes, I have to go,” he grumbles, reading your thoughts as if they were spoken aloud. You groan softly and stay wrapped in his embrace. Two weeks without him. His strong, muscular arms, the ones you’ll miss most, tighten around you as you press your face against his broad chest, nuzzling into him with a quiet sigh. You take a deep inhale, filling your lungs with his familiar scent— the mix of his skin and that faint, rugged cologne you love so much. It’s comforting, grounding, and you cling to it, knowing it’ll be a while before you get to experience this again.

“I’ll miss you.” You softly whisper in his chest to which he chuckles. His arms seem to squeeze you a little tighter. 

“Yeah, I’ll miss you too,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, savouring the comfort of your presence. He’d definitely miss his pretty wife.

You look up, meeting his gaze. His crimson eyes, still soft with sleep, linger on you with that private smile he shows only to you. His sharp features seem gentler in the dim morning light, and for a moment, you both just exist in each other’s company.

Wordlessly, the both of you share a deep kiss. An intimate mix of love and longing. His hand cradles your cheek as your arms loop loosely around his neck. Reluctantly, the both of you pull away. You sigh softly from the loss of contact. He keeps you close as he gazes into your eyes, his forehead resting against yours. The beautiful eyes of his lover. 

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against yours in one last, tender kiss before stepping back. You pout a little as his arms fall away, but you know he has to leave.

“I love you,” you say, voice tinged with a reluctant acceptance.

“I love you too,” he replies.

You watch as he picks up his luggage and heads to the car. Standing in the doorway, you call out after him, your voice echoing through the quiet morning.

“Text me updates!”

“I will!”

“And when you’re on the plane—”

“I know!”

“And call me when you get to the hotel!”

“Dammit, woman, I know!” he yells back, a mix of exasperation and fondness in his tone.

Exactly an hour and thirty-seven minutes later, your phone buzzes with a message from him. He’s reached the airport. Twenty minutes later, another text arrives to tell you that he’s checked in. 

Two hours pass, and your phone lights up again with a photo of him and his colleagues on the jet. He looks as sharp as ever, though there’s the usual trace of annoyance in his expression. And next to him were sheepish looking Red Riot and ChargeBolt. His message follows right after: They were late. Typical.

You smile at his grumbling, imagining him sitting there, arms crossed, clearly unimpressed. Even from thousands of miles away, it’s like he’s right there with you, sharing his usual complaints.

You watch Kirishima stretch in the morning light. His muscles ripples beneath his tanned skin as he works out the tension from his body. He’s seated at the edge of the bed, wearing nothing but his boxers. The broad back you love so much, facing you. Kirishima’s back is adorned with battle scars, each with their own battle-hardened tale. The scars stretch over his powerful frame and you feel rather tempted to reach out to touch them.

As he stretches his arms out to the sides, twisting slightly to loosen up, your eyes skirt over the fresh scratches running along his skin. Scratches you left from the night before. The memory of it stirs something warm inside you, and you can’t help but let a soft giggle escape your lips.

Upon hearing your fit of giggles, he pauses mid-stretch. Glancing over his shoulder with a knowing smirk on his lips. "What’s so funny?" he teases, his voice still a little raspy from sleep, but there's an unmistakable playfulness in his tone. 

“Just admiring my work.” you comment, referring to the latest addition of scratches on his back. He chuckles softly, replaying the events of last night in his head. It was a rather vigorous night. He needed that time with you, though. With a two-week mission ahead, he already knows how much he’s going to miss you. 

He practically jumps back into bed, sweeping you into his strong, muscular arms as if he can't bear to be away from you for another second. His lips find yours in a tender kiss before he nuzzles into the curve of your neck, planting soft, fluttery kisses along your skin. His lips trace over the bite marks he left behind last night, a reminder of the intimacy. 

For a moment, there's only the sound of your steady breathing and the quiet intimacy of the morning. Then, you break the silence, your voice still soft and hazy from sleep. “Do you have to go?” Your hand gently combs through his messy red hair, and he responds with a low hum of affirmation, his teeth grazing your neck playfully, causing a shiver to run through you. 

“I don’t want to,” he murmurs, his voice low and a little rough, “but I have to.” 

He rises slightly, hovering over you, his gaze tender as he takes in your sleepy features. His hand, warm and calloused, cups your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin as if memorizing every detail. He’s going to miss you—more than he can express.

You're the reason he’s not in the shower yet. The reason he’s still in bed, holding you close instead of gearing up or standing by the door. He’s prolonging every second he has with you, delaying the inevitable because leaving you feels harder than the mission itself. He knows he's late, that he should already be in the shower, getting ready for the mission. His gear should be laid out, his mind focused on the tasks ahead. But here he is, unable to leave your side.

He knows his hero partner will yell at him.

But how could he resist his beautiful wife?

You know he’s running late too, but you don’t care. Shifting up from the bed, you lazily loop your arms around him, pressing your cheek against his warm, broad back. A soft sigh escapes your lips as you settle into him.

“I’ll miss you,” you murmur, breathing in his familiar scent, already knowing you’ll be raiding his closet the moment he’s gone, wrapping yourself in whatever he leaves behind.

“I’ll miss you more,” Kirishima replies, his voice full of warmth. You can’t see the smile on his face, but you feel it in the way his muscles relax under your touch, the way his words come out soft and sincere.

What time is it? You glance at the digital clock on the bedside table. Six in the morning? He's definitely getting yelled at. A quiet chuckle escapes you as you loosen your grip around him.

“It’s six,” you say, a playful warning in your tone.

“I know,” he groans, clearly aware of the trouble he's in.

“He’s going to kill you.”

Kirishima just laughs softly. “I’ll survive—gotta come back to you.” His words make you laugh, and as you release him, he turns to face you with that toothy grin you’ve always loved.

Just as Kirishima leans in to kiss you, his phone rings, cutting the moment short. A loud groan escapes his lips as he checks the caller ID. He glances at you, a dry chuckle slipping out before he answers.

He doesn’t even need to speak— Bakugou’s voice is already blaring through the speaker, barking orders. You can hear it loud and clear, his usual demanding tone carrying through the room. “Get your ass up, Eijiro!” 

Kirishima doesn’t argue, knowing full well Bakugou had already anticipated this. With a quick tap, he ends the call, tossing the phone back onto the nightstand with a sigh. He knew he brought this on himself, but it’s far too early for all that yelling.

“You heard that, right?” Kirishima asks, glancing over his shoulder at you. 

You nod with a soft chuckle, still amused. “Yeah, pretty much. You should clean up,” you hum, playfully nudging him.

He raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Wanna join me?” 

“Eijiro.”

“Fine, fine,” he grumbles, finally getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom. His broad figure disappears behind the door, and you roll your eyes fondly, watching him go. As much as he’s procrastinating, you know he’ll eventually get it together—because, at the end of the day, he’s always reliable. Even if he’s late.

Before you know it, Kirishima is already by the door, fully dressed with his suitcase in hand. The image of him shirtless and relaxed on the bed feels like a distant memory as you stand in front of him, sharing one last deep kiss before he leaves. It’s slow and lingering, filled with the kind of warmth that you’ll hold onto while he’s gone. When you finally part, it’s with a soft peck on the lips, and a smile as you watch him step outside.

You wave as he loads his suitcase into the car, and he shoots you that familiar, reassuring grin before the door closes behind him. The car pulls away, and the house feels quieter already.

Two hours pass, and your phone buzzes with a new message. You open it to find an image of a rather grumpy-looking Dynamight, arms crossed and glaring from his seat on the plane. Next to him, Chargebolt is flashing a sheepish grin, holding up a peace sign. You can almost hear Bakugou grumbling under his breath about something ridiculous, probably annoyed with everything around him. 

Kirishima’s caption reads: “Already regretting this trip. Look at these idiots.” 

You laugh, texting him back quickly, already missing him but feeling a little lighter knowing he's surrounded by his friends and trusted co-workers. He’ll be in your arms again soon.

“Five more minutes.” 

Denki mumbles, his voice muffled as he snuggles deeper into your embrace. He’s still in bed, arms wrapped tightly around you, clinging like he’s never going to let go. You let out a soft hum as your fingers comb through his messy blond hair, the strands wild from sleep and so uniquely him. His head rests against your chest, and you can’t help but smile to yourself as you look down at him—the pro-hero you love so much, completely content in your arms.

But this is also the very late pro-hero.

“You’re going to be late, Denks,” you murmur, your voice gentle but with a hint of amusement.

He grunts in reply, barely acknowledging your words as he shrugs and buries his face even further into your chest, clearly not bothered by the reality of the situation. “Don’t care,” he mutters, his voice rumbling against your skin. He’s warm, cosy, and in no rush to leave. Being tangled up with you is the only thing that matters in the world right now.

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “You say that now, but wait until Bakugou gets on your case for being late again.”

“I’m not scared of him,” Denki just huffs, his arms tightening around you as if to say let him try. You know he’s dreading the inevitable lecture, but right now, he’d rather enjoy every last second with you. And honestly, you’re not complaining.

The two of you lay there peacefully, soaking in the morning light peeking through the windows. You’re already thinking about how much you’ll miss him during his two-week mission. It’s not often he’s called away for that long, but when he is, you understand. That’s the life of a pro-hero. And while the thought of being apart tugs at your heart, you couldn’t be more proud of him for what he does.

“I’ll miss you,” Denki murmurs into your skin, his breath warm against your chest as he looks up at you. His toned arms tighten around your waist, pulling you closer. His electrifying touch trails in soothing circles across your skin, making you feel that familiar buzz only he can give. He sighs softly, like he’s already dreading the distance. At that moment, you realise just how much you’re going to miss the way he holds you. The warmth of his affection that never fails to make you feel safe.

You smile down at him, your fingers still running through his messy blond hair. “What are you going to miss the most about me?” you ask playfully, your tone light, though a part of you genuinely wonders what his answer will be.

He pauses, his gaze drifting downward to your chest, a playful grin spreading across his face. You immediately catch on, rolling your eyes and swatting him lightly on the head. “Denki!” you scold, but you can’t help laughing as the both of you break into soft chuckles.

He rubs the back of his head, still grinning like a mischievous kid caught in the act. “What? Can you blame me?” he teases, but when he sees the look on your face, he lets out a small sigh, shaking his head as if to reset himself.

“Okay, okay,” he says, his tone shifting to something more serious. “Real answer now.”

Denki’s lips curl into a smile, but his eyes stay soft, thoughtful. “Everything,” he says, his voice low and sincere. “The way you smile at me when I walk through the door, the way you run your fingers through my hair like this…” He trails off, propping himself up on one elbow.

Looking deep into your eyes, his usual playful energy is tempered by the sincerity that only comes out in moments like these. “I’m gonna miss the way you make everything feel... normal. Like, when I’m out there, saving the day and dealing with all the hero stuff, it’s easy to forget who I really am sometimes. But with you,” he pauses, his hand gently cupping your cheek as his thumb brushes over your skin, “you remind me that I’m more than just a pro-hero. You remind me that I’m enough, just as I am. That I’m just Denki Kaminari.”

His words make your heart swell, and for a moment, you forget about the two weeks ahead. All that matters is here and now, with him in your arms, holding onto you like you’re the most important thing in his world.

Just then, his phone rings, interrupting the peaceful moment. As Denki picks it up, you glance at the screen and catch the time—half past six in the morning. Oh, he’s much later than you’d initially thought. It’s not Bakugou calling, but Kirishima instead. You can hear his deep, concerned voice on the other end, “Dude, get up. He’s already pissed.”

Before the words even fully register, Denki’s already scrambling, bolting upright and pulling on his boxers in a flurry of movement. The sudden shift from lazy cuddles to frantic dressing makes you burst out laughing. He’s rushing so fast that he practically trips over his own feet as he throws open the closet doors, rifling through his clothes in search of something to wear.

“How did you know I wasn’t already out the door?” Denki fires back at Kirishima, balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder while simultaneously struggling to put his clothes on. His words are defensive, but the slight panic in his voice gives him away. He’s juggling a pair of pants in one hand, sliding them on while trying to pull a shirt over his head with the other, looking every bit the chaotic mess you love.

You can’t help but chuckle at the scene— Denki hopping around, trying to get his pants on without losing grip on the phone or his dignity. "Because if you were, you wouldn’t be half-dressed and panicking right now," you tease, watching as he stumbles into his shoes, still fumbling with his shirt.

Denki flashes you a sheepish grin, clearly caught, but he doesn’t miss a beat as he finally manages to get his pants on properly. “I was about to be out the door,” he mutters into the phone, knowing full well that no one’s buying it.

“Tell him I’m—” Denki starts as he finds his packed luggage. Thank god he packed the night before. 

“Already on your way?” Kirishima cuts in with a laugh. “Yeah, you can tell him that yourself. You know how he gets when we’re late. He’s already chewed me out. Hurry up man or you’re next.”

It’s hard to hold in your laughter at the situation. Denki shoots you a panicked glare as he starts moving out of the bedroom. “I’ll be out in two seconds!” he says into the phone, though both you and Kirishima know that’s a lie. 

You shake your head, still laughing softly, as you follow him out of the bedroom. Amused by the whirlwind that is your husband in a rush. He’s darting around the living room, frantically patting down his pockets to make sure he’s got everything. The sight is pure Denki— chaotic, yet somehow endearing.

As he’s about to bolt out the door, you catch sight of his passport sitting on the kitchen counter. With a smile, you grab it and walk over, holding it out to him just as he turns in circles, looking confused. “Looking for this?” you tease, waving the passport in front of his face.

His eyes light up with relief. “You’re a lifesaver,” he says, leaning in for a quick kiss.

Before he can rush off again, you grab his arm and pull him in for one last peck on the cheek. “Be safe, okay? And text me when you land.”

He flashes you that playful, electric grin, eyes twinkling. “Promise. Love you.” Then, with a wink, he’s out the door, shoes half-tied, practically running to avoid Bakugou’s wrath.

You lean against the doorframe, still smiling as you watch him disappear down the street. Even in his frantic state, there’s something about him that makes you fall in love with him all over again, every time.

Two hours later, your phone buzzes with a message from your husband. You unlock it to find several crying emojis, and you can already feel the laughter bubbling up before you even open the image. When you do, you’re greeted with a snapshot of chaos: a very pissed off Dynamight, glaring daggers at Denki, looking ready to lunge at him. Red Riot is in the background, struggling to hold Bakugou back, his arms wrapped around Dynamight in a full bear hug, clearly doing his best to keep things under control.

Denki’s sheepish grin isn’t doing him any favours either. His expression is simply the statement of "I'm in trouble". You stifle a laugh as you text him back. 

a/n: there will be a part two of this with deku, shoto and sero! I only had energy to write these three idiots xP

border credits: @/enchanthings & @/adornedwithlight

[sugarcookiefemme]

i can't wait til i'm finally a trophy wife for my butch <3

going out shopping while he works, from domestic things like groceries to new clothes for myself. decorating our house for holidays; hanging ornaments and lights on a christmas tree, putting pumpkins and spooky string lights on our porch for halloween (and handing out candy to the neighborhood kids in matching costumes). gardening and planting flowers, making sure our house looks welcoming inside and out. going to get my nails and hair done so i always look pretty for him, kissing all over his face when he calls me his beautiful princess, leaving lipgloss or lipstick marks behind.

making him breakfast and packing him a handmade lunch every morning in a silk nightgown and feathered robe, kissing him at his car before he leaves for work (and sometimes getting pinned against it because i look so good - so tempting - our kiss getting heated, going on for a little too long, flushed and breathless when we part. maybe he'd even cup my pussy in his hand, nipping at my neck and whispering about finishing this later). greeting him at the door when he gets home, wrapping him up in a hug and telling him how much i missed him.

sitting on his lap while we talk about our days, his arm wrapped around my waist and hand resting comfortably on my thigh. him telling me about the things he did at work, me telling him about the things i did that day. eating dinner together that way, swinging my legs happily and giggling when he tries to feed me food. domestic weekends together, sometimes staying in and cuddling in bed or on the couch while we watch tv and ordering in; sometimes going out for the day, shopping and going out to eat, him carrying my bags and watching me ramble with hearts in his eyes.

and some less-than-wholesome things, too...

like the hand on my thigh while we're talking at dinner slowly moving higher and higher up until it's under my skirt, pressing against my clit through my panties. rubbing in firm circles while i try my best to keep telling him about my day, my words slowly changing from stuttering to nothing coherent at all, only whining and whimpering, a wet patch spreading across my panties while i start grinding desperately against his fingers. spending the rest of the night spread out on his cock, crying as i'm pounded into the mattress and overstimulated with a vibrator against my clit. so exhausted that i fall asleep with his cock inside me, waking up the next morning sore but sated.

or a sweet weekend at home turning into gentle sex, him fingering me while whatever we were watching plays on in the background. whining and clenching around his fingers when he tells me to keep watching, that i don't want to miss anything, even though my eyes are so teary i can barely see what's going on. maybe even morning sex before he leaves for work because i looked so good he just couldn't help himself, eating me out on the counter until i'm sobbing and begging, holding on to anything i can reach around me for dear life, my thighs tight and shaking around his head.

just!! being his pretty, stay-at-home femme!! his trophy wife who he loves showing off to his coworkers, but isn't afraid to snap at possessively when they show even a small hint of interest in me!! being his forever!! his ring on my finger, his marks on my body, covered in the things he bought for me!! 🥹

[revolu]

I'm dropping (a bit old) john laurens yap here. Please correct anything you must + provide the source.

and we know very limited about John but whatever !!

Laurens was described by Hamilton to have honey blonde hair when clean. His hair was generally said to be light brown/blonde. As seen on portraits, he had soft features, blue eyes, and a big nose. He was described to be very handsome, and IMO I agree!! We don't know exactly how tall he was, but he was most likely over 6 feet. One day before Laurens' 15th birthday, his father wrote to James Grant; ''my Little Jack, now as big as I am...'' (Jack being John's nickname). We don't know Henry Laurens' height, but if he was as tall as Henry at 15, he certainly grew to be taller. In 1778, Henry wrote to John ''A Taylor has cut off as much of your Scarlet as will make he says a Wascoat for 6 feet 3 inches...'' which suggests that John could have been 6'3. It's not clear what exactly Henry means in the letter but as said, John was probably over 6 feet. Laurens was one of the strongest abolitionists of the time despite coming from one of the bigger slave plantations and growing up where slavery was normal. John could speak English, French, Italian, Greek, Spanish and Latin. We know that he was fluent in English and French but we don't know about his fluency in the other languages.

Laurens got Martha Manning pregnant and ended up marrying her out of pity (supposedly to protect her reputation too and to keep illegitimacy of their child.) He wrote to his uncle ''...Pity has obliged me to marry...'', When Laurens left for war, he left his pregnant wife in another country. When John was chosen by congress to be a special minister to France and had him travel there, Martha traveled with their daughter to reconnect with him upon hearing about his arrival in France. But John supposedly made no effort whatsoever to visit them; he completed his mission and went back to America. Martha later died during the trip and their daughter, Frances, was sent to live with her aunt.

John Laurens is believed to have been gay... The man didn't seem to express any attraction towards women, though I think his sexist beliefs played a role in this, as well as his lack of effort to humble his wife. His letters to Alexander Hamilton, and Francis Kinloch also suggest he had an eye for men... ESPECIALLY Kinloch's and his correspondence.

Henry Laurens wrote ''Master Jack is too closely wedded to his studies to think about any of the Miss Nanny's''. But it's important to note that he was a teenager at that time and not every teen develops those feelings at the same time. But I would imagine that since he was as tall as his father at 15, he was early in puberty... Romantic/sexual feelings usually come with puberty, but what do we know? Anyways. John expressed a lot of sexist opinions, even towards his own sisters, which can be read in letters. Most men were sexist, but John seemed to be more ''strict'' on the subject... This definitely plays a part in his supposed ''homosexuality''.

John hid the fact that he had a wife and child from Hamilton for nearly two years. Why? The reason is unknown. It's only up to debate. My guess is that he just wanted to try to ''forget'' them in some way, seeing as he literally left them... Why would you bring up that you have a family that you abandoned? But maybe it was because he never found the right time to tell him, or was it to get a better chance with Hamilton? We will never know, sadly. But what we DO know, is that Laurens referred to his wife as ''dear girl'', and Hamilton, and supposedly ONLY Hamilton, as ''Dear boy''. We know for a fact that Hamilton was close to Laurens and was special to him, but why did he call his wife that? Out of pity? He didn't necessarily show any real attraction towards her... But whatever the reason is, it's kinda cute.

We know that Henry Laurens was emotionally manipulative of John, which is like read in letters... So there is no denying that, really. BUT John was close to his father, attachment issues tsk, tsk tsk... But jokes aside, when John told his father that he wasn't super interested in becoming a lawyer or merchant like his father wanted, Henry wrote this to his brother; ''if he enters upon the plan of Life which he Seemed to pant for when he wrote the 5th. July, I Shall give him up for lost & he will very Soon reproach himSelf for his want of Duty & affection towards me, for abandoning his Brothers & Sisters, for disregarding the Council of his Uncle, & for his deficiency of common understanding, in making Such a choice_ if these reflections prevail not over him, nothing will_ he must have his own way & I must be content with the remembrance, that I had a Son.'' Basically, Henry said he would disown John if he pursued his interests in medicine. So, John ended up becoming a lawyer/statesman to please his father. There are more examples of John trying to please his father, but let's not take that now... HOWEVER, after John had died, Henry wrote of him in response to John Adams' letter; ''Thank God I had a Son who dared to die in defence of his Country'' ... We get a lot of mixed signals from Henry... Though I do believe he loved him, at least somewhat.., even if he was controlling/manipulative. Henry wasn't too nice to his other children either, but since this is about John I'm not gonna talk about that.

John's brother James died at the age of 9-10 (1765-1775)

James, or Jemmy, was supposedly scaling the outside of their house and tried to jump to the landing outside of John’s window but fell. He received life threatening injuries and cracked his skull. The doctors had figured that the injuries were too severe to save him and John described it to his uncle four days later; "At some Intervals he had his senses, so far as to be able to answer single Questions, to beckon to me, and to form his Lips to kiss me, but for the most part he was delirious, and frequently unable to articulate. Puking, Convulsions never very violent, and latterly so gentle as scarcely to be perceived, or deserve the Name, ensued, and Nature yielded."

Since John was supposed to watch over James during this time, John felt guilty and as if it was his fault. James' death was very difficult for John, and it weighed heavily on him.

Henry did little to alleviate those feelings of guilt, which suggests that he either didn't care enough, or that a part of him also blamed John. (I am not saying he 100% did, but it would not be surprising if he so did, considering how he treated John.)

He could also have been in too much grief to console John... Which, as said, would not be too surprising considering his treatment of John. But nevertheless, he did not do much to help John and John's guilt.

TW: mentions of suicide.

It is highly speculated that John was suicidal. We have a couple of written exchanges where John discusses suicide with friends and family. In February 1774, John wrote to Henry Laurens about two men who had attempted suicide. We don't have the whole letter, but here is a part of Henry's response; ''...But, my Dear Son, I trust that your opinion on that Question is So firm, that you are armed with Such irrefragable proofs of the Impiety as well as Cowardice of Self Murther, as puts you out of danger of being made a Convert to Error...'' (Not gonna put all of it). Another time, when John was a prisoner of war and didn't handle imprisonment well, Hamilton wrote to John ''For your own sake, for my sake, for the public sake, I shall pray for the success of the attempt (of being exchanged) you mention; that you may have it in your power to act with us. But if you should be disappointed, bear it like a man; have recourse, neither to the dagger, nor to the poisoned bowl, nor to the rope.'' It is clear that Hamilton (and Henry, despite how he treated John) were worried about John's thoughts of suicide. John's last letter to Hamilton was probably one of the, if not the, most emotional. He wrote ''Adieu, my dear friend; while circumstances place so great distance between us, I entreat you not to withdraw the consolation of your letters. You know the unalterable sentiments of your affectionate Laurens.'' John died about a month later. On the day of his death, John and his men surprised a troop of British soldiers that outnumbered them. Instead of retreating, John chose to immediately attack. He did not really actively end his own life, though it seems as if it was planned or that he was trying. Which is just sad. Also, it's not sure that Hamilton's last letter to Laurens ever got to him before he died. (In that letter he tells John to quit his sword and come to congress with Hamilton)

I don't know what else to add actually but here you have it!! This is as accurate as I can get it, especially cause it's like mostly based on letters... Uhm. But yay!

[kit-williams]

A Drabble

tw: oral; idiots in love;

-Timeline: Before the story proper-

Perturabo was use to Penelope being excitable... she was in her early twenties after all verses him being well over a hundred years old by the time they married. It amused him greatly how differently she acted in the public eye verses with him privately. It made him feel like he had something all his own and it was the truest version of his wife. But he watched her slide into the room looking at him bewildered, "Why didn't you tell me you were hot?!" She says in that whining tone of hers.

Perturabo gives Penelope a deep frown counting slowly in his head. She has a habit of saying stupid things not realizing at first what she says. With her also being from the mountains she sometimes messes up the phrasing... that and her being a commoner once she tends to speak far more casually with him in private... and well of course he loves her. Love was something Pertruabo did not give out his love easily as Calliphone was the only other person he would have said that he loved before he realized he loved Penelope in a different way.

"Let me rephrase!" Her eyes sparkle realizing her slip up, "Why am I only now finding out you had a beard!" She whines softly.

"I see you visited Calliphone." Pertruabo points out knowing full well that the only paintings of him left of his time before meeting Father were with his sister.

"Of course I did. And I only now just saw how amazing you look with a beard! I feel robbed!" Penelope says with her dramatics as he could hear her bare feet upon the stone as she walked over to his desk.

"Unlike Russ I did not enjoy the feeling of my hair getting tangled and knotted. So I shaved my whole body." Perturabo says returning focus to a building design.

"Do you think you'll ever grow it out again?" He feels her cheek against his arm.

"Why?"

"It looked good on you."

"Do I not look good now?" He looked over at her with a blank look on his face. He wasn't afraid of what she would say...

"I fell in love with you now. Clean shaven, tubes, and all. I mean I doubt I looked good when you first met me."

"You looked good."

"Bo I had three teeth missing, crooked toes from them being broken and not healing right, awful hair, and a myriad of other things that would leave many poets desiring something."

That got Perturabo to frown, "That doesn't matter." He bristles not liking how she talks about herself sometimes. He chose her so why does-

"Exactly dear." Penelope says softly with that pleasing smile of hers that causes her eyes to close slightly, "You loved me at my worst looking. No I'm not saying you have bad taste in women I'm saying that if looks were something you were really picky on then I wouldn't have a chance."

"They never complemented my work earnestly." Perturabo says softly.

"Their loss." She says before climbing up to sit on his thigh wrapping her arms around his neck and presses her cheek to his as she smiles just showering him in affection.

He doesn't like showing affection in public a weakness that could be exploited... but she's a mortal and needs it... and he wont repeat nearly letting her walk away from his life by withholding it from her. He sighs softly pulling her into a hug enjoying the comfortable silence before speaking up, "After the Crusade." She looks at him before he continues, "I'll regrow my beard after the Crusade. My head hair..." He feels a modicum of self consciousness at the thought.

"I can live with just a beard... and maybe some chest hair too?"

"You're insatiable." He kisses her cheek seeing the gears in her mind thinking, "You're thinking of something."

"Beard Burn." Penelope says with a sigh.

"You really are insatiable." He laughs softly to which she scoffs.

"Would you rather I be like Lady Dorn? Mindful and demur and stone faced too? Or perhaps I shall have a frown upon my face as well." She says before she pouts dramatically at him.

"You're pouting."

"Well I'm not very good at frowning I suppose." Penelope says before kissing him.

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

She doesn't know how this man got into her room... and why he was naked. But she had to admit he was insane enough to try and seduce her though he looked... familiar?

"Speechless?" That familiar voice rumbles out.

Her eyes widen, "Bo?"

"In the flesh," He lies as what this puppet really was is metal, "You really do not like it when I'm closer to your height."

She sighs putting a hand to her cheek, "Like I've said... a decade of being use to you towering over me does not go away just like that. But... I suppose... it's been awhile for you."

"Partially I do not trust myself to not hurt you," He partially lies to his beloved spouse looking away not wanting to think too hard about everything as he came here for a mental reprieve... not to be eaten by guilt...

He looks at her feeling her weight on the bed as she gives him a kiss for his troubles before pulling away and looking over him, "By the Ancients Perturabo you're so hairy!" She says before putting her face into his chest and making a pleased noise.

"Oh yes probably not as hairy as some of my sons from the mountains are," He says with his eyes closed as he can't help but preen under her pleased gaze, "But I hope its enoUGH!" He nearly jumps as he feels her mouth around him as he looks to her sparkling eyes as she grins with her mouth full giving a giggle. He swallows and burns the sight into his very essence, "Well you look quite pleased."

"Oh yesh bery peeesed," Penelope says with her mouth full.

"Don't talk with your mouth full Nelly." Perturabo says causing her to laugh and she lets him slip free from her mouth. As she crawls up to meet him in an embrace and to enjoy the night.

-Timeline: Perturabo got to Penelope first-

Guilliman didn't know what was spurring his traitorous brother on. Perturabo was moving aggressively carving out a large territory for himself. The spies that were able to give any information was sparse and usually wildly outdated by the time it reached him but something was spurring him on. The radical inquisitor was able to get a recording... "Apparently the rapid border expansion of the Iron lord's territory is because of something he acquired. We're uncertain if it's from his recent fights with the other traitor primarchs but the Iron Warriors have been consolidating and changing their focus."

Guilliman was very familiar with how Perturabo was moving... it was his methodical expansion from the Great Crusade... he was bringing planets into compliance. And given the numbers the Inquisiton estimate... Perturabo was a threat. His mind thinks back for a moment... perhaps the thing that changed was Penelope? But that was well over fifty years now when he first got that distress call from the Iron Amarantos and he assumes that the perils on that half of the Cixitrix Maledictum got to her before she could get to one of the crossing points.

"We don't have any information on this sudden Demogauge. All we know is that she just appeared around the same time of the expansion. The Iron Lady as she's been called." Guilliman refrains from rolling his eyes... of course just like Ferrus, Perturabo was associated with Iron.

The pict capture plays as the agents get into their positions. "This one is also important... but its clearly a young Astartes." The Inquisitor says as notes pop up as the image of a... familiar man walks on screen. He looked so much like Perturabo... then again what one of his sons didn't but there was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that this wasn't a normal son of Perturabo.

"And here comes the Iron Lady." The Inquisitor says but the Astartes uses a different title.

"Play it back now." Guilliman orders as he listens to the title again... "That's not Iron Lady..." He has a sinking feeling he knows who is about to walk on screen.

"What does it translate to then my Lord?"

"Iron Mother."

And upon the screen with a newfound grace she glided into view draped in the colors of the fourth legion straight from the days of the great crusade was Penelope. Though Roboute wonders if it really is her give how she was closer to the size of Alpharius or a Primaris marine and Roboute watched her sweet talk a planet into compliance... because she was the gentle hand to the Iron Lord... she was the gentle hearth where Perturabo was a roaring forge... Roboute didn't have many chances to meet his brother's wife. But he remembers one of the few times she was around and Perturabo was bristling. Perhaps it is the hindsight now to realize that her death is what damned the fourth legion... but he remembers the way they simply looked at each other. Something Roboute was jealous of, at the time, with how tenderly she held his face... how lovingly she looked into his eyes...

"It can't be her..." He whispers... this must have been some poor mortal or some abomination Perturabo had made to replace his wife... if he never got over her.

"Who is she..." An Inquisitor asks.

"Back in the Great Crusade era... before the Heresy... Perturabo had a wife," His eyes focus on one of the Astartes standing next to her before pointing, "and a son."

The Ram, the bulwark of Ossento system, Warsmith of the 101st Grand Company... and more titles but Guilliman couldn't help but see how much he looked like his father... the way he seemed to look into the camera and just smile.

The alarms blare as the sigil of the Iron Warriors appears on the screen. A virus the tech adepts and priests scream as a video forces itself to play.

"Hello Guilliman." Penelope says, "You probably have a dozen questions seeing me again... and like this." She says softly, "I would love to answer them but straying too far from your brother would... well he wouldn't like that but I'm willing to meet you still perhaps not at Macragge but I think you will be please with what I have to say. Take care Lord of Macragge." And with the video ends the virus dies

[belit0]

Hello!♡

Thank you so much for doing my last request! I absolutely loved it and You're such a great writer aaa!<33

But anyhow, I've come with a new request and it was mainly inspired by the way you characterise Izuna (I absolutely love it btw). Sooo, essentially Izuna and Madara sharing a wife. Like, Izuna got her first, but decided to share with Madara, because he is his dear big brother after all!

You can gladly make it mostly nsfw with a generous amount of the infamous Uchiha breeding kink on top, because I need that in my life rn lmao.

Thank you for all you do and have a great day/Night!<33

-bunni anon♡

Months later, here is what you asked for. It has a good combination of nsfw and sfw material, as I found fascinating to explore the dynamics of these two Uchiha in such a situation. I had fun, to say the least.

Marriage dynamics

In the Uchiha clan, shared marriages are not unusual, as their culture values family, strength and unity. This complex but harmonious relationship began as one of Izuna's many defiant attitudes, trying to go against the council, prove to them that he would not marry who they thought was wise.

(Y/N) became the perfect proof of defiance, a middle finger raised to the elders who kept pressuring the young Uchiha with marital concerns (they decided to leave Madara alone in those matters, of course). One thing led to another, and what started as a fresh fling translated into genuine feelings, accompanied by a long and tumultuous emotional journey that Izuna was not ready to take on.

Luckily, Aniki is always ready to lend a hand to this little jerk, and it was in the sentimental navigation that Izuna undertook with (y/n), assisted by Madara's advice, where the girl developed a strong attraction for the clan leader, setting a new path and direction.

After much internal debate and various agreements, both brothers came to the conclusion that the situation was simply perfect, as the girl not interceding in their bond, but rather contributing to it, was a great match for them.

Madara, being the eldest, has a more protective and authoritative attitude. He is concerned about the welfare of the family and tends to assume the role of leader in personal decisions. Being a man of wise words, he is the one who is in charge of mitigating any tension that may appear in the dynamics. His word is rule, and Izuna knows that contradicting Aniki is pointless (unless it is intentional).

(y/n), however, enjoys ruffling his feathers. Sometimes it's so simple, and punishments in bed have an intense flavor. Madara asks Izuna to assist with punishment and discipline whenever the girl pisses him off, and the younger Uchiha never misses an opportunity to explore sadism between the sheets.

Izuna, on the other hand, is spicier in his manner, playful and carefree. He has more of a physical relationship with her, which balances Madara's seriousness. Both siblings deeply respect each other, so there are no major conflicts for (y/n)'s attention, although sometimes small friendly competitions arise.

Where Izuna tends to lean toward physicality and sex, Madara usually opts for affection. Great balance.

Division of time

Madara, with his leadership role in the clan, spends more time in meetings, while Izuna takes care of the day-to-day affairs of the clan. This allows their wife to spend more frequent and relaxed moments with Izuna, fronting as the first lady of the family.

In the evenings, the three of them get together to share quiet dinners. Madara, who values unity, insists that these dinners be family moments, without political or strategic discussions, purely leisurely and trivial. Both Izuna and (y/n) help him to put his feet on the ground after long days of work, regulating him.

3. Hobbies and shared activities

They enjoy training. When (y/n) is in the mood to participate, they usually arrange all-against-all battles, with the winner being the one who endures to the end. If the girl prefers to rest, she usually settles under the shade of a tree until they wear each other out, waiting for them with snacks ready.

Mutual challenge and support is a big part of their dynamic.

When Madara manages to dodge his responsibilities, the day begins and ends with sex. He doesn't have much free time, and he knows that Izuna and (y/n) never waste time alone. On the one hand, he finds it imperative to catch up, not to be left behind, and on the other, the need builds up in him like hot lava, clamoring to be released. If there is an opportunity, (y/n) does not leave the house all day long.

In quieter moments, they enjoy strolls through the Uchiha compound, where Izuna and (y/n) are corralled by the clan's children while Madara interacts cordially with nearby adults. Sometimes they are satisfied by simply inhabiting the same space, each immersed in their thoughts but sharing the calm.

Preparing dinner

As for household chores, although they have servants who can help, their wife often prefers to prepare meals, enjoying the process as a way of caring for her family. However, Izuna sometimes offers to assist. Madara, too busy to participate in cooking time, rarely gets involved, but always appreciates the food.

Usually, these are moments where Izuna takes the opportunity to enjoy (y/n) without Madara's presence. The servants know when to leave the home, give them privacy, and the Uchiha normally ends up fucking her on the table. If pre-dinner sex happens, she must sit down and eat in front of Madara with the remains of Izuna's seed dripping down her legs, leaving no greater satisfaction for the younger Uchiha than when his Aniki realizes what they were doing in his absence.

Conflict and resolution

Although there are moments of tension, like any relationship, they don't usually fight over their wife's attention. Their mutual respect as siblings prompts them to handle any conflict as they know best: with punches. In a controlled and competitive way, both Uchiha always solved their problems with their fists, knowing when to stop, regulating emotions in a physical way. Their wife, intelligent and patient, plays an important role in mediating when disagreements arise, ensuring that both feel valued, and giving them space when they need to release tensions.

If the problem runs too deep, for whatever reason, the girl has special weapons to disarm the brothers. It is as simple as taking them by the hand and directing them to any available surface, undressing in front of them and allowing whatever they wish to do with her body. No Uchiha will ever resist their woman surrendered in front of them, too much fire in their blood for that.

The only dispute that sometimes appears is fraternal jealousy. While they may compete on some things, like who surprises her with a gift or kind gesture, these moments strengthen their relationship, making the marriage more solid. (y/n) enjoys the attention, and will never admit to dying of tenderness when they simultaneously struggle to give her the best detail or present.

- On intense nights, Madara insists on sleeping inside (y/n), possessively filling her pussy, while Izuna opts for her rear end, joining in the fun until his legs go numb.

- Madara adores watching Izuna take care of (y/n), waiting for the moment when his need is too high and he feels himself exploding. The image of his wife being torn apart by his brother sets him on fire.

- Izuna always tries to find ways to compete. No matter how much he knows (y/n)'s buttons, how to make her scream and when to leave her shaking, he inevitably tries to come up with new ways that will put Madara on the spot.

- Izuna proposed a challenge that ended up becoming a habit: he insisted on (y/n) going through an entire council meeting swallowing Madara's cock under the table, unbeknownst to anyone, leaving him as the only one aware. If Aniki cums before the meeting, he is punished with the impossibility of touching (y/n) during the entire sexual encounter that follows, forced to watch helplessly.

- Madara prefers (y/n)'s cunt, obsessed with burying himself deep between those soft lips and filling her with high-quality seed. Izuna, indifferent as to which hole to occupy, usually takes over the girl's mouth until his brother is satisfied.

- Most often, (y/n) ends up with a mixture of cum dripping from the inside, fluid that doesn't stop pouring until hours after the encounter is over.

[juergenklopp]

TREA TURNER National League Division Series 2023 vs Atlanta Braves (October 12, 2023)

[itty-bitty-sunshine]

Refri belongs to @clovergreensocks but hes my bbygirl and darling wife and i love him

[hauntingblue]

I think Invincible writers overestimate how much blood there is in a person's body

[satellitesunset]

perpetually thinking about suguru geto.

[octothinq]

I miss my wife. I miss my wife Gallagher. I miss him so much.

[earl-grey-love]

All I did the last two days was talk and talk and talk and talk. So much talking, so many new people and things. I loved it all, but I'd love to be held by Barbs now. Like one long strong embrace, please and thank you.

[rxxkes]

the hitman 😍😍

[heatsu]

My wife

[alicecoopersbush]

i need to see alice cooper again or im going to explode

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you show your husband some affection, thinking you two were alone - only to be interrupted by your son.

tags. dad!toji fushiguro x wife!female reader. fluff, suggestive. mentions of toji developing / having a dad bod. & reader having a mom bod. reader gets called ‘princess, mama (by gumi)’. baby gumi waking up bcs of a nightmare. excuse me - not beta read bcs i was half asleep when writing this rt_t

“tooooji,” you smile as you enter the kitchen. you’ve put megumi to bed - finally - and have the chance to spend some one-on-one time with your dear husband. both of you deserve the rest after a hard day of work.

toji has been putting the dishes back in their designated spots whilst you were away. the dark-haired man turns his head to the side once he feels a pair of arms wrap around his waist. a small grin tugs at his lips, “missed me, princess?”

you roll your eyes. even if years have passed since your marriage, toji has not stopped using that specific nickname for you. he loves calling you ‘princess’, because that’s what you’ll always be to him. in his eyes, at least.

“mhm,” you decide to indulge him. you bury your face into his broad back, feeling the muscles he’s worked so hard on obtaining. after megumi was born, toji did let himself go for a bit, but that is a good sign.

it means he’s content with his life - this peaceful life that he’s settled down for with no regrets. no more being reckless, no more battling for money; he’s now got a family to come back home to after all.

“is the little brat asleep?” toji asks while putting the last dish away. he’s visibly enjoying your warm hands that have slid under his shirt. your skin is so soft to the touch compared to his.

you chuckle and nod to his question. “gumi’s sleeping like a baby,” you rub your husband’s stomach gently, feeling the little bumps of his fading abs. you’re loving his new body - just as much as toji loves yours.

toji turns around to face you, desperately needing to return the favor. he can’t get enough of being with you. his rough hands grab your waist and bring you closer against his body, until your chests are nearly touching. he lowers his head to your neck, “that means i can show my wife how much i love her, yeah?”

you shiver at how toji’s voice turns from soft and gentle to sexual and husky. big hands find their place on your tummy, massaging the loose skin with its stretch marks. you can hear your husband’s breath hitch. “fuck,” toji swallows his spit, his fingers moving to grasp your hips.

toji loves how your hips got wider after you’ve given birth to your child. every change in your body, whether big or small, is completely welcomed by him. your body has blessed toji with a son he loves and he’ll forever be grateful for that fact. the least he can do is take his time to appreciate you.

“so beautiful,” toji sighs as he leaves soft pecks on your neck and throat. his fingers are working their way down to your thighs and ass—not leaving a single patch of skin untouched. his lips eventually find yours and you melt into his embrace.

it’s getting heated and the tension is palpable. toji’s about to lift you into his arms when you catch a glimpse of a short figure in the doorway. your eyes widen and you immediately detach your lips from your husband’s.

toji quickly catches on and sighs. he cocks his head to the left, the sight of his toddler standing at the doorway coming into view. “damn kid,” he whispers, nearly pouting because of the interruption. you playfully slap his bicep—a warning to fix his potty mouth in front of megumi.

“h-hey, gumi,” you say with an awkward giggle, walking towards the child. you fix your shirt in the meantime, straightening the material. you crouch down to megumi’s level and pat his head tenderly, “what happened? why are you out of bed?”

megumi stares up at you with teary eyes. he’s clenching onto his dog plushie, hugging the stuffed animal to his little body. you can easily guess that he’s scared—probably because of a nightmare. he’s been getting those more frequently.

though, instead of explaining himself, megumi searches for answers to something else. he points at his dad who’s leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. the toddler then looks back at you like he’s made some big discovery;

“mama papa kissing!”

you nearly choke on your spit. megumi’s a clever little boy and it shows through his advanced vocabulary. you’re surprised that he’s learnt what that meant already. you try to deny what your child said, “no, uhm, mama and papa were just hugging!”

toji snorts at your half assed excuse. he lazily walks over to you two, hands in his pockets. he bends forwards and looks megumi in the eyes with a huge smirk on his face. “yeah, we were. ‘n you totally ruined it,” he utters without any shame and menacingly sticks his tongue out at the little boy.

you hiss and lightly shove toji—he cannot take anything seriously. you’re trying your best to distract megumi’s attention from what he’s seen his parents do, to what his reason is for waking up.

“did you have a nightmare again?” you coo and pick your son up. he instantly snuggles up to you and presses his face against your chest in search of comfort. you smile and can conclude that your assumptions are right.

you pet megumi’s head whilst softly humming one of his favorite lullabies. toji watches your interaction with his son and his mood softens once more. he silently hugs you from behind—also wrapping an arm around megumi—turning it into a little family group hug.

“y’re all right, buddy,” toji mutters to megumi and the little boy sniffles in response, “mama ‘n papa ‘re right here.”

after a couple minutes, you carry megumi back to his room before putting him down in his bed. your husband stands next to you as you make sure your kid is tucked in properly.

megumi stares up at you with a sniff and you nearly melt at the adorable sight. you brush his bangs out of his eyes and kiss his forehead, wishing him a good night. the toddler nods and hugs his plushie to his chest again, still a bit shaken up from the nightmare. however, he’s doing a lot better after he got comforted by both his parents.

“sweet dreams, gumi,” you whisper and rub megumi’s cheeks with a fond smile on your lips. toji simply stares at you conversing with megumi—his face showing little to no emotion. though, from within, toji is absolutely in awe at your motherly personality. you’re the perfect mother.

megumi gets drowsy and tosses onto his side so he could be more comfortable. he struggles to open his eyes, but manages to look at toji. the little boy pouts and points another finger at his dad, this time drowsily warning him, “papa no kiss mama, ‘kay?”

that comment catches you off guard. you’re embarrassed by the fact that megumi still remembers what he’s seen in the kitchen. you try to clear your throat and explain yourself, but toji’s one step ahead of you. he silently mimics megumi’s words and rolls his eyes—

“yeah yeah, whatever. i won’t,” toji promises his son. the toddler clearly inherited your husband’s protectiveness. you chuckle at the playfulness between the two, enjoying the jokey banter the father-son duo have each time.

megumi huffs in victory and nods. he can sleep in peace now, knowing his dad won’t try anything funny with you. he closes his weary eyes and is asleep within just a few seconds.

you stretch your arms and sigh in content. you can’t help but chuckle once you notice how megumi’s fallen asleep with a tiny smile on his lips. you give the child one last forehead kiss before leaving the room in silence.

toji follows right behind you. now that his son is sound asleep, he doesn’t have to keep his promise. technically— he wasn’t planning to anyway.

“c’mere,” your husband mumbles and grabs your hand. he pulls you into a tight hug, hands instantly roaming your body which he admires so much. he plants his lips onto yours not a second later.

you smile into the kiss, finding it funny how toji couldn’t keep his (fake) promise for even one second. he would die if he actually couldn’t kiss you, and that isn’t even an exaggeration.

toji pulls back after a moment and smirks at you—those bedroom eyes of his very telling.

“so, where were we?”