#and yes the husband is jean leave me alone

[liquorisce]

Haha i wanted to share about emh. I personally have a hard time believing in it or eren being in any relationship/having any child in canonverse despite his personal desires, but i have sometimes hc’d“what if eren got historia pregnant, mikasa found out and she ran away and did her own journey” type of story. & ends up finding someone else. She still loves Eren but the context of that love changes b/c she feels betrayed & sad but grows apart and forms her own fam, & sees E again yrs later. But+

+where I get stuck is how Eren might respond to Mikasa in that situation after she runs off and disappears without saying anything and no closure. I also have a hard time envisioning her and Hisu’s relationship after she finds out the once-supportive Hisu got pregnant by her crush behind her back 😭 Like I think Mikasa would be cordial but idk that’s where i get stuck in my hc. Like Mikasa would forgive since she had her own fam but maybe it’s be awkward? Idk, angsty love triangles are hard!!!

(Last part) but the last part of my hc (after figuring out the response to themall reunifying again) Erehisu’s kid and Mikasa’s kid playing with each other and seeing them interact happily (as well as eren still seeing mikasa has her scarf) brings some sort of closure to Eremika’s friendship and acceptance that they weren’t meant to be but that it didn’t make life bad, like it was cruel but there was beauty to it (the new life they created apart)

-- NGHHHHHHHHH I LOVE THIS STORY SO MUCH IT IS EXACTLY MY KINDA JAM!

what would make this particularly heartbreaking is, if eren realized his true feelings for mikasa shortly after she left. his whole thing with hisu was just,,, a fling, a teenage relationship forced to tighten at the noose by their own carelessness. historia sees it too; eren gets depressed shortly after mikasa leaves, and as much as he tries to fight it, as much as he tries to show up for her and take her to doctor appointments or buy her medicine for cramps, sometimes he drifts off somewhere else, a place that is inaccessible to her.

at first it hurts, to think that the father of your child would much rather be anywhere else than by your side is a painful pill to swallow. but eren and historia have an easy relationship, they always have. not too difficult and not too deep, so it doesn't matter if eren's heart belongs to another, he never promised her it belonged to her, after all.

as the years grow, their relationship becomes one of friends, co-parents and even though they don't discuss it too much, historia dates other people. she doesn't have to discuss it because eren is fine with it. they love their child and perhaps even each other but eren knows what it's like to be *in love*, what it's like to feel that aching tug on your heart every single day, feeling like you might just die if you don't see your lover's face.

for eren, it was always mikasa, and that was never historia's fault.

when mikasa comes back, he is filled with a different kind of ache. and this one even more tortuous and addictive. because he can see her again, every day at the park where he takes his little girl to play. but this time with a child of her own, a beautiful baby girl who looked just like her mama. and perhaps the final twist knife is this: the man who comes to pick them up from the park every evening, seven-thirty sharp, dress pants and a formal shirt and one of those ridiculously shiny office shoes. he kisses mikasa on the cheek when he greets her. her child waddles up to him and fusses to be picked up. she looks up at him with a smile.

eren wonders if mikasa ever smiled at him like that. perhaps not. and now she never will.

[bi-writes]

simon being protective of his mail order bride scratches all the right spots in my brain.

mail-order bride

you're almost relieved when you hear the knock at the door. you've been a holding a tree pose for a few minutes too long, and the girl hosting the online yoga class is starting to fry your eardrums with her too-perky voice.

you're sweating bullets, and her hair hasn't moved a fucking inch out of her ponytail.

you mute the television, wiping your forehead before making your way to the front door. you open it with a sigh, not really knowing what you expected to see, but it certainly wasn't the average-dressed man standing on the steps there.

you blink, raising a brow when his eyes roam over you, and you realize suddenly that you're wearing workout clothes, which is showing off a little more than you'd like to some rando standing on your doorstep.

"uh..." you look around a little. "i'm sorry, can i help you?"

he smiles. it's a little unnerving.

"right, yeah, i'm starting a business around here, and i wanted to ask if you've been needing any help with any fixtures around the house. i'm giving a 50% discount if you give me a rating on google."

you open your mouth for a moment, frowning.

"uhm..." you shake your head, "sorry. we don't need any help right now."

"you live here alone? sometimes it's hard to spot when the electric's on the piss, y'know? need a keen eye," he laughs, coming up one of the steps. you shake your head again.

"no, thanks."

he's a wiry man, but he's tall (not taller than your husband, but taller than you). you step back a little and start to close the door. he comes up the steps. out of the corner of your eye, you see the cat slip out between your legs, hissing a little as the distance closes between you and the man.

"wait! can i give you my contact info? i don't have a card, but i can leave you my--"

the sound of simon's truck pulling into the garage gets both of you to look behind. simon doesn't even park all the way inside. he throws the truck door open, stepping out of it, and the man on your steps moves back away from you immediately, making his way off the little porch.

simon looks huge, more so than ever. his steps are heavy, boots hitting the ground like a warning bell, and he's wearing just a short-sleeved shirt that's showing off those glorious fucking arms. you have never doubted simon's strength, but he looks like he could flip a car with the anger that's leaving him in heavy waves. you're surprised that you are not afraid; you just know somehow that simon won't touch you.

"oi!" simon yells, and the man definitely understands he picked the wrong fucking house to be a creepy salesman at when his knees nearly buckle as he tries to walk away. "where the fuck do y'think y'r goin', you twat?"

you sigh deeply, not realizing how much you were shaking until you notice your hands trembling around the doorknob. you watch as simon catches the guy by his dirty jean jacket, nearly lifting him completely off his feet as he drags him towards the fence gate.

"hey! hey! i didn't do anything!"

"i saw ya, ya fuckin' arse, know exactly wot the fuck y'were doin'," simon growls, tossing him onto the sidewalk. he hits the pavement with a cry, holding onto his arm, and simon slams the fence gate closed before pointing at him accusingly. "'f i ever see ya anywhere near m'fuckin' house or even askin' m'wife for so much as fuckin' directions, i'll cut y'r bloody prick off, y'hear?"

you blink as simon comes closer, the cat retreating back into the house once they see him. he keeps walking, crowding you back into the house before he shuts and locks the front door. his chest is heaving, black t-shirt doing nothing to hide the puff of his chest and how large he makes himself when he stands up to other men. he doesn't even need to make himself larger; simon takes up enough space for two men combined.

"he touch you?" simon asks, his voice low. you see his fists clench, and you have no doubt that if you said yes, simon would go outside and paint the pavement a new color with the man's face.

you shake your head frantically, and he lets out a deep breath, reaching up and wrapping a hand around the back of your head and pulling you close.

he bends, pressing his masked forehead against yours, closing his eyes as he breathes in slowly. he rubs at the nape of your neck, soothing you, and you smile when he pulls away, giving him those big eyes that say thank you, thank you, thank you.

simon cocks his head, staring behind you, and you turn with him to see the cat blinking slowly at the two of you from it's place on the windowsill.

"should get you a fucking guard dog instead," simon mutters, pulling his mask off and kicking his boots into the corner. you smile as he walks away, trying to cool your warm cheeks with the backs of your hands.

doesn't he know you already have one?

[pixiesndberries]

HOW DO I GET YOU ALONE?

— Logan Howlett ❞

𖦰 :: summary — remembering her first love after a long time of running away from it.

→ Logan Howlett, Fem!Reader, Jean Grey, Rogue, Kitty Pryde, and more.

♫ :: Alone - Heart (Bad Animals, 1987) — It Must've Been Love - Roxette (It Must've Been Love, 1990)

𖦰 .. warnings — angst; mentions of intimate moment together (18+ themes), strong words, lmk if I forgot something.

> I haven't double checked this, might contain grammatical errors and typos.

𖦰 author's note — LMK IF YOU WANT LOGAN'S POV GUYS 🙏 I kinda felt shitty and I wanted a heart clenching angst, I don't want them to be happy and all of that love story. Probably my longest work ever and I'll have my break for like a day or two (more like 2 years) anyways HAVE FUN POOKIES!

WORD COUNT — 3, 666k words

"Hey, take care of the kids and yourself too." the man mutters underneath his breath as he places his 'best dad in the world' coffee mug in the sink, quickly grabbing himself a napkin to wipe the left residue on his lips — it took her a quick moment to respond since her attention is too focused on putting her children's school lunch in their very own lunch boxes, "yeah, yeah you too." she nods as she wipes her hand in her colourful apron, giving him a glare.

"did you have everything? car keys? the lunch I made you?" she says with a worried yet hurried tone making sure her husband got everything in his hands before leaving the house — "yes, ma'am." he chuckles with a nod, before she could even say something back he walked up to her wrapping his arms around her, planting a kiss on her temples.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

he nodded and left pulls away, calling the kids to have their goodbyes before their father left for work — she turns around and sighs while wiping the bead of sweat forming in her forehead, she then closes the lunchboxes and place it inside the lunch bags.

for the last nine years, this is her daily routine — to be a responsible wife and mother towards her husband and children, to be her children's first teacher and to be her husband's helping hand.

just like her dream, to be wife to somebody.

to a certain someone.

"Mommy!" james yells from his room making her drop what she was doing in panic that something might've happen to her first born son, she rushed upstairs 'till his room just to see him being completely fine — "Mommy, we need to bring old photos of our parents to school for our family tree." he says slightly feeling scared that he might've freaked his mom out for yelling too loud and exaggerated.

she sighs closing her eyes, but then looks at the kid, again trying to be calm as possible not wanting to scold the child because the school bus is going to arrive in ten minutes and he just had the balls to tell her that right now. "Okay, give me a quick moment. Wait downstairs and watch Peter and Julien for me, is that okay?" she says calmly.

"okay, mommy." james nodded as he carries his backpack with him, she created a space so he could get out of his bedroom door — when she heard his foot steps coming from the stairs she closed his bedroom door and made her way to the attic wherein the old and useless stuff was placed.

she pulled the ladder string making the ladder fall on it's own, she then secured it making sure it's stable enough to step on. As soon as it was stable enough she climbed, her head peeking through the attic.

she then spend her last minutes searching for some old boxes with photos, she already obtained her husband's old photos, mainly the one from his school yearbook photos — on the other hand, she couldn't manage to look for hers. She didn't really had much of photos before except for some that are nowhere to be found, she didn't go to school either which means she does have yearbook photos to share.

she already wanted to give up and just hand out the photos that she had in her hands right now, but her eyes landed on this brown wooden box with her brain processing where it could be from, it looks familiar at the same time it doesn't.

she then crouched to grab the box, it was small and almost fragile considering how old it maybe is. She shook the box making sure it has something inside and it did sound like there are things inside but it feels like it's packed with so much things inside.

she already forgot about the ticking of the clock and how close the school bus might be already. She flick the button open, bringing her hand to open the lid.

letters

photographs

and a locket.

it made her stop breathing for a moment, it's like her soul jumped out of her body for a quick mini second as the realization of what this was — she blinked while her fingers lingered into the rough almost fragile papers that contains letters and the photos wherein the colors are slowly fading.

she exhales and attempted to push back the letters and photos all at once in the small box, she's rushing making it unable to push it all at once except if placed neatly, out of frustration she dropped the box making it scattered all around the floor with the other ones flying somewhere in the room — she sighs closing her eyes, only to see a photo of them lying in the floor with a letter behind it.

the poorly written words even brought those memories back too good yet it stings painfully than being tortured by an electrocuting machine — no, she wasn't supposed to sit here and see this all of these things that are supposed to be gone ever since she left that damn roof. She already left what she was many years ago and she's not planning to remember nor come back because she's already contended of what she have right now, this was her dream right?

she felt a bead of tear slowly runs down her cold cheeks as she stare at the photo with her hand holding into it, wanting to just tear it apart or maybe burn it until it's all nothing but ashes that she's soon going to throw away in the lake nearby her house.

hair was short, smile was wide, she's wearing his leather jacket, his hands wrapped around her waist and her lips was attached into his cheeks — the piece of paper crumbled into her hand as she lets out an exhausted sigh and her eyes' blinking trying to avoid wasting tears again.

the same face she had as they were talking that night, the night that absolutely ruined her.

before this whole him meeting jean thing, everything was way too different compared to what situation they're in after him meeting jean — they're almost entwined and it feels like they're the only one who understands each other wether it's about missions or just in general.

birds of a feather or two peas in a pod, that's what professor x calls them, they're almost inseparable — but as times goes by it's more than just friendship.

at some point the tension started being way too compacted that it's almost hard to resist the fact that he couldn't help but to look at her lips everytime she speaks or maybe she couldn't help but to look when he's just there standing topless while fixing something — everything was irresistible.

"I don't know, he just keeps coming at me or something." she shrugs with their bodies next to each other as stares at her drink, the tension was tight and somehow warm — and the fact that Logan is questioning about this random dude who came up to her basically checking her out, it's not helping.

he doesn't want to sound possessive.

she's not his.

she doesn't want to avoid the guy either.

it's not like he's going to get jealous.

he didn't mutter any response but the moment she looked at him, she can hear the mutters inside his head — she knows that she agreed to not read his mind but she couldn't help, her head got ears and it's hearing too well.

"I'm not going with him, not worth my time. Rather, I know someone's better at wasting my time." she mutters underneath her breath quickly looking back at her whiskey as he looks back — he clicked his tongue putting the glass down in the counter, she then looks back making their eyes locked at each other.

it was deep, it was something, what do you call that? mind fucking?

she's sure it's not her telepathy thing that is wanting to pull him into a kiss right now and let him do the things that he wanted to do to her, and Logan is also sure that's it's not only him who's been feeling this close and those gazes and touches didn't have any meaning.

"fuck." she mutters underneath her breath as she holds into the bathroom's towel rail for balance as Logan's teeth leaves marks on her neck — she can't help but to wince and moan lightly as he squeezes her glutes, feeling the tight pressure.

"Logan, it's going to be visible." she sighs as he pulls away with her free hand resting on the back of his head.

"can't find the problem."

fuck, literally.

she pulls him in a passionate kiss, feeling almost like high or euphoric just by this. It was an overwhelming gut rush that she couldn't explain, she can taste the bitterness of the liquor he just had mixing with hers and it's getting her almost feral — "fuck me, Logan." she groans in his ears, like that her request is what he fulfils.

it would be a lie if both of them say everything happened once or twice, it was more than that — they didn't shared just themselves, their body, a kiss but an intimacy that she knew she wouldn't have with anyone else except for Logan.

it wouldn't be the same if it's not Logan.

every night, as they lay together in bed with Logan next to her sleeping his ass off — she couldn't help but to think, what they really are.

sometimes she would just be there and imagine their future together, kids, a nice house, and them being together — a small house down town just perfectly enough for their family, she even promised herself that if they're going to have their first son, it's name is going to be James Howlett Jr.

she's never really been a vocal type of person since from the start, she prefers quiet over anything else in this world — she never once brought the words, "what are we?" or maybe ask him if they're more than just sharing naked bodies at one bed or crashing lips together as the world falls apart around them.

but then she just spends her whole night pondering when's the right time going to be to just ask him if,

if he feels more than just sexual tension or whatever was this.

like, it couldn't be so casual that he'd hug her from behind or be a worrywart everytime she's out of sight during missions — and most of all, friends don't say I love you during sex, right?

she'd always remember when a fortune teller told her that 'you wouldn't know when the universe is going to turn against you' she never believed it not until she came home from a mission along with kitty — as she walk in the halls, she could already hear the familiar voice; his voice.

and jean's voice?

when she was only few steps away from the room where all the noises of the room is coming from, she was fighting with herself wether to just stay and listen or just walk by the room so maybe he'll notice that she's there or maybe just mind her own business, they're just friends right?

she can hear Logan's chuckle as she teases him over something.

she couldn't help but to feel this weird ache in her stomach, she couldn't explain the feeling but it was slowly going up her chest until it reaches her throat — her chest rises she closed her eyes trying to take deep breaths and thinking to just walk away.

she opens her eyes and exhales heavily, almost audible — she walked pass by the room purposely making her steps audible, she didn't even know why she did that.

she walked quickly back to her room and closed the door behind her, then leaning her back into the door with a heavy sigh — why did I do that?

why do I feel like this?

why,

why,

and why's.

that's all she could think of all night, they're just friends right?

the kiss

the way he holds her hand

no, she pushed herself to calm down — Logan can be friends with anyone, what she witnessed is just a friendly conversation so where's the reason to be paranoid?

and they aren't even together.

each night she wasted her time pondering what to do because they are slowly drifting away from each other — as time passes Logan and Jean's relationship are getting tighter, closer, it's like they're sewn together and she's just there.

letting things be,

letting everything go it's way like nothing happened between them.

"are you seriously going to stand there and just watch them?" rogue scoffs while holding a cup of coffee, scooting herself next to her friend who seems to be swimming in her own thoughts — her mind was blank while leaning into the balcony as the stars shines bright, she's well aware of the company that rogue and kitty offered her.

"didn't know you're a masochist now." kitty teased making rogue let out a low chuckle as she sips her coffee — no reaction from her, she just breaths heavily.

the atmosphere was quiet for a moment, only the sound of crickets was audible but she broke it after seconds — "I don't know, if he wanted me in the first place it wouldn't be like this."

"I mean like, the real thing."

rogue and kitty exchanged glances feeling bad for their friend, rogue looked at her for a moment then let's out a heavy sigh.

"you should talk to him, you know, to have a closure of what you two did isn't just games."

"I wish it was that easy." she says looking back at rogue, "I've made numerous attempts but when it's the actual thing and he's there, it's so hard to speak."

rogue and kitty couldn't find the perfect words to help her put her hopes up, they haven't been in her place — she's not asking for it either, she's doing okay and she appreciated the time her friends are putting on her to help her with this.

"if you wouldn't try, you wouldn't know right?" kitty spoke

she understood both of her friends suggestion to what to do, it's easy when you think about it but when you're actually there the aching feeling that slowly crawls up to her throat was getting her,

but she couldn't just sit there and wait because at some point he'll probably never try because he's focused on someone else.

cinnamon girl, is that what she is right now?

he's addicted on something and couldn't bring himself to care about her, anymore?

she wouldn't say that he completely shut her off his life, sometimes when they would run against each other, they would exchange glances but never would say a thing — sometimes during dinner the whole team would talk, then Logan would agree to her words — after missions Logan would check up the other people and she's one of them, but then she'll just smile and nod.

he's there, but not completely there.

she hated how casual it is for him to just walk pass by her, stand next to her like nothing happened, talk to jean as if she wasn't there.

this wasn't them numerous days ago, she's longing for it and it hurts so bad.

she just wanted to run away from it, but with him and jean being in the same roof as hers — it's so hard to find an excuse.

during dinner, she was so quiet as she was eating this whatever food it was — she couldn't even think straight, all of the people that surrounds her are laughing and she's just there drowning herself in a pool filled thoughts.

"right, (y/n)?" rogue chuckles nudging her arms which made her quickly looked around the people in the table, almost feeling like she just woke up in from daydream which made everyone around the table confused and exchange glances.

"yeah, yeah." she nodded awkwardly chuckling looking back at her food, kitty and rogue exchanging looks as if they already know the reason behind her behavior right now.

to fill the awkward atmosphere gambit created a joke making the whole table laugh again as if nothing happened, there she was so low in her food.

she glared around the people making sure their attention wasn't on hers because honestly it was that embarrassing, but then her eyes landed on Logan who quickly looked back.

no shit.

she glared back at her food and continue to finish it off so she could finally leave the table and rest.

on the other hand, Logan looked confused yet seem to already be puzzling the reasons why her behaviors like that right now.

later that night after the dinner, rogue and kitty said their goodnights to her and made their way to their rooms — while she was walking in the hall she was still lost of what's happening around her, she couldn't help but to think, think, and think.

out of nowhere she had this urge to stop walking, and yeah right.

Logan was in the hall too,making his way somewhere she doesn't know.

Logan also stopped his tracks and looked at her, both of their faces blank.

What do I do?

Should I?

she's fighting with herself inside, wether to approach him and talk about it or just once let it go.

her chest was rising heavily, it's visible and the tension right now is almost compacted as if there's no air.

"Logan."

"(y/n)."

both of their names slipped from each's lips on the same time — is he aware?

"can we talk? please." she exhales feeling the aching torns building up her throat once again, almost choking her — Logan nodded, she gave the somewhere private look and he shrugged agreeing with her.

You don't know how long I have wanted, to touch your lips and hold you tight. — You don't know how long I have waited, and I was going to tell you tonight.

they are in the balcony, with the cold wind feeding the almost dry atmosphere — she can't really explain what she felt but it's almost like she's trapped in a box and she's slowly exploding, it's an overwhelming feeling having him here.

she doesn't know how to start and he's just standing there waiting for her to say the words he needed to hear, she gulps and looked at him with her eyes reflecting the bright colors of the stars and moon.

"it's, about us." she finally spoke, her voice almost cracking through the words — she's fighting the urge not to cry right now, her chest just feels so heavy.

she can see in her eyes how Logan reacted when the word us slips from her lips, he knows that what she's talking about and if she's in the right state she would've plucked her mind to get under his to read whatever he's thinking right now.

he didn't respond, "Logan, what am I to you? Are you really going to shut me off like I was someone who you didn't know." she says with her fist tightening into a ball and her voice raising a little — frustration and pain.

"Logan, are you really going to act like this forever, like I wasn't here?" she says with a firm tone.

"are you really going to forget about what we had?"

"those kisses, sweet nothings, touch, and whatever the fuck it is!"

"(y/n)."

"don't fucking call me now, Logan, I am so fucking hurt." she says pointing at his chest out of frustration, she felt like exploding right now.

beads of tears was already slipping in her cheeks, her chest rising continuously.

he was dumbfounded, not being able to find the right words to defend himself — because it was true, it all happened and he couldn't just pretend that it didn't happened.

"tell me, those fucking things that we had is nothing to you!"

"that's not true."

"then why!" she sobs trying her best to keep her voice down, "Logan, why?"

"I don't know."

"what do you mean you don't know?" she sobs again feeling so frustrated, "Logan, I'm sure those things are easy to forget shit."

"if it's just fucking, flirting, comforting to you. Logan to me it's the real fucking thing, what do you call that again? Love?"

she never once wanted to admit that she's in love, she hated love, they both hated love and all this time they both believed that what they did is just nothing, something they can easily forget — sorry for breaking it to him, she fooled herself for thinking it's love.

"I never learned to care until I met you."

"I never learned to love until I met you." she says almost choking from her own spit as tears continuously pouring.

again, Logan couldn't bring himself to speak — it's not like he doesn't care to what's happening right now, he just didn't know this is what she felt all this time. He thought she felt the way he does, all of this are nonsense.

"I thought it was all nothing." he says back, "I thought you and I agreed that we're doing that no strings attached."

"but you said I love you, and I'm sorry clinged to that but I hoped." she quickly responded, "my mouth hasn't shut up about you since you kissed it. The idea that you may like me the way that I do was stuck in my brain, which hasn't stopped thinking about you since." she says with her voice cracking mid sentence.

"I didn't mean to make you feel that way, but you know we both agreed right? that we don't have something."

"and that was my mistake, but you couldn't just say you love me like it was nothing."

she still remembers it perfect in her head, she can still hear how he said it during sex, while they're just together, kissing her forehead and mumbles I love you before mission — it was all nothing?

"I just wished you could've told me before you," she pauses wiping her tears, in fact she couldn't even bring herself to say her name.

"you could've told me that before meeting Jean, because I felt like I'm some kind of toy that you got sicked of playing."

it was nothing but quiet for a few seconds but Logan cutted the silence as he attempted to explain for himself.

"I was the first person Jean got closed with and during that time you were nowhere to be found, maybe you're there but so far."

"I thought you didn't want me anymore."

she did, she did spaced away from him thinking he doesn't her anymore — it's her mistake for not talking this out ever since she felt jealous.

"but that's not a reason to completely shut me off, you could've ended whatever we are doing in a good way so I wouldn't hope anymore that you would still be knocking at my door, to talk to me." she added

they're are both standing at their own points.

she already felt tired at this moment and just wanted to cry her eyes out in her room and Logan was completely lost right now, conflicted between Her and Jean.

she already know that he wouldn't at least try to explain that he once loved her like she did, she's so dumb for even thinking about it.

"then I'm sorry, if that's what you wanted to hear."

why is he making it sound like she's demanding for an apology? she doesn't want to see him anymore, she's so miserable right now.

she sighs, she doesn't even know what to say now everything is messing up with her head, she already said what she have to say to him and it made her chest lighter now — but there's still an open wound in her heart right now.

"I love her, but I appreciated you."

and when she heard those words it felt like the world came crashing to her and continuously slaps her on the face, Logan then turned back, having himself looking back at her before walking way.

as much as she wanted to stop him, she thought it's for the best to let him be — it already happened, it's clear that he didn't want her from the start.

So this is it?

That's it?

Should I be happy that he appreciated me?

Logan could still here muffles and cries that night, he was in his bed trying to shake off the feeling — this weird feeling, he knew that he should be sorry but in the first place he thought both of them doesn't believe in love, he clinged into that.

He'd be lying if he didn't admit he didn't mean to say those words, those sweet nothings, and those love gestures — he was conflicted between the forming feelings for her and the fact that she once admitted that she doesn't believe in love.

so he stopped himself and found Jean, Jean wasn't so scared of showing her love and the slow burning start of their romance — if he knew that they're both in love from the start maybe he wouldn't be here in this bed right now remembering the words she have said.

he was a jerk and he knows that, but he it'll make things tougher if he admitted that he also felt something for her — it would be useless now that him and jean had this thing now, it'll hurt her more.

Last minute regret, he's going to carry this forever.

"I have to find my myself professor, I think this is just not for me." she mutters underneath her breath while looking at the man in front of her, Professor Charles Xavier.

she professor was dumbfounded for her sudden departure with the reason of she felt like what she's doing wasn't really for her — as much as professor x wanted to disagree because of her helpful abilities that put the team together, it's almost like him and her are alike, he couldn't bring himself to stop her.

there's this energy that tells him that she is in agony, a sense of lost, as if she was in grief — he didn't bother to read her mind, it feels too wrong especially when she look like this.

"if that what makes you happy, I am delighted to fully support your decision, I just wanted you to know that the door is open when you wanted to come back, (y/n)." the professor said with a grin on his face, which somehow sent her a sense of comfort.

"I am holding into that." she smiles, but she remembered something before going.

"please don't tell them, the only people who are aware are rogue and kitty, please?"

"as you wish."

and that she traveled where she can, wherever her feet brings her finding the peace that she wanted — she wanted to leave who she was, wanting her old self dead and forgotten.

as much as it hurts her, she wanted to space away not wanting to drown herself once again — maybe she really love him that much that she reached this point.

Logan was her first love, and she knows it's going to take a long time forgetting that face.

she changed everything about her from head to toes, cut and dyed her hair, attempted to find a new style which she successfully did and to forget everything in the past leaving them where they belong.

she found herself in Switzerland, wherein she built a flower shop and when she's not busy she'll be a part time teacher in preschool — with that being said, that's the same place she met her husband.

he always buys flowers in her shop for his mother who was sick, there he learned his interest towards her — Long story short, they got married and shared three children; James, Julien, and Peter.

and ever since she met her husband she forgot about Logan, not even thinking's where he is, how is he doing, if he is still actually alive — she never once think of him, even the school and her friends.

"Mommy! The school bus is here!" when she heard a familiar voice coming from down the attic she quickly stuffed the box and what it contains somewhere that wouldn't be found by any of the people inside this house except her, she wiped her tears and took a deep breath.

"I'm done, hold on." she says before grabbing a random photograph with Logan and tearing it apart quickly making her way down the attic, handing it to James as fast as possible.

"kids!" she calls out as she walk fast guiding the kids out of the house with the big yellow bus waiting outside.

:: additional note — LMK IF YOU WANTED THIS BUT LOGAN'S POV CUZ LIKE I FELT I DID LOGAN DIRTY WITH THIS ONE 🙏 THIS IS MY LONGEST FIC SO FAR 😭 I'M TIRED BYE.

ᯓ★ pixiesndberries 2024 ! i don't allow my work to be share in any platforms without my permission — REBLOGS, LIKES, AND FOLLOW ARE APPRECIATED !

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

✨Bucking Bronco✨

@bat-boness keeps fucking cooking with their Cowboy Lucifer art and I shall do the same!!! @nayomi247 and @liveontelevision this is your fault too lol, we have now formed a small but mighty Cowboy Lucifer cult fan club

Lucifer x f!sinner reader

Summary: Lucifer finds himself in a punishing situation…

Warnings: 18+, smut, hand job, oral (m receiving), p in v

“You know, this wouldn’t be happening if you would come in from the farm on time, Luci,” you scolded as you finished tying the last knot on his wrists. "I don't think I ask for much."

This was the third night in a row your hardworking husband has missed dinner with you. You let it slide the first night. The second night you gave him a gentle reminder to not overwork himself. But tonight was the last straw. A third night of eating alone with a cold plate of food sitting across the table from you. You loved him dearly, but you hated that his priorities didn’t seem to be in order. You were going to make sure he learned his lesson one way or another. He tried to butter you up as he usually did when he came in from work late, knowing full well what he'd done. You feigned a smile and told him not to give it another thought. You told him to get comfortable and that you would join him upstairs soon. But when you walked into your room with your rope in hand, he gulped. He knew damn well that he was in trouble. You sat him down on the ottoman and wrapped your ropes around his hands and wrists, pinning his arms behind his back, effectively rendering him helpless against your ‘punishment’.

“Darlin’, I-I’m sorry, time just gets away from me sometimes! I-I would never do anything to upset you,” Lucifer stuttered. “P-Please, have mercy…”

You checked the tightness of your ropes before standing in front of your husband, towering over him in his subdued state. “Oh, I’m not upset with you! But since you’ve just been working so hard lately, I thought it’d be mighty kind of me if I helped you relax.” You brought your hand to his chin and had him meet your intense gaze. “Do you want me to help you relax, sweetheart?” you asked, knowing all too well that there was only one answer he could give you.

“Y-yes,” Lucifer responded meekly.

"That's my good boy," you praised, a small whimper escaping Lucifer's throat. You slowly dragged your hand down his open-shirt chest, stopping right above his already very apparent erection. He did his best to buck his hips up in an attempt to create any sort of friction. But all this did was cause you to pull you hand away from him immediately. He whined pathetically. "Behave now," you reprimanded. Lucifer looked up at you with glassy eyes and nodded obediently. You smiled and brought your hand back down to its previous spot, hovering just about his hard-on. You heard Lucifer's breath hitch as you finally placed your palm over his cock that has been painfully straining against his jeans. It took every ounce of willpower in him to remain still while you toyed with him.

"P-Please," Lucifer mewled, "I-I can't...hng..."

You pulled down the zipper to his pants lethargically, watching Lucifer's chest rise and fall more and more rapidly until you finally released his already leaking cock from its confines. "I love how needy you are for me, sweet pea." You gripped his length in your hand and started stroking him meticulously. Lucifer's whines filled the room, you've never heard sweeter sounds than his desperate cries. His precum leaked onto your hand, your jerking motions becoming smoother. You circled your thumb over the head of his cock, applying the lightest of pressure to it. Lucifer cried out as he bucked his hips once more from your teasing. You let go of him again, tears now welling up in his eyes from the loss of your touch.

"I'm sorry!" Lucifer nearly shouted. "D-Don't stop, please...I'll behave, I-I promise!"

"That's strike two, Luci," you warned. "You wouldn't want me to leave you like this, would you now?"

"N-No! Please...", a single tear rolled down his face. You smiled gently and wiped it from his cheek.

"Shh, it's alright," you cooed, "patience, my love. I'll take care of you."

He took a few deep breaths, attempting to calm himself down. He knew deep down you wouldn't leave him in such a desperate and vulnerable state. You knelt down on the ground, gripping his shaft once more. You stuck out your tongue and licked up the length of his cock, tasting all the precum that had spilled out of him. Lucifer's voice caught in his throat; he was beyond forming any coherent sentences at this point. He struggled against his binds, losing grip of his control fast. Your tongue circled his swollen tip, eliciting the smallest yelps from your lover, your hot breath driving him insane. You enveloped him suddenly, bobbing your head up and down, taking as much of him as you could. Lucifer was frozen, he dared not move again in fear of the repercussions. Instead, he was loud, moaning and whining from everything you were giving him in this moment. You let him go with a satisfying pop, flashing a mischievous grin.

"Tell me what you want, sugar," you teased him as your hand replaced your warm mouth. "Use your words."

Lucifer's hat had fallen in front of his face, you could no longer see his eyes. You lifted it up only to see them glowing a bright crimson red, his hunger for you now abundantly evident. "N-Need you," he choked out, "need to feel you, n-now. Please...ride me..."

You smirked at him and nodded. You stood up once more, removing your belt in one swift motion and tossing your shorts off so the side, your soaking pussy now in full view. Lucifer gulped audibly. You straddled yourself against Lucifer's hips, teasing his cock with your dripping folds. You decided to wear his hat on your head instead so that you could clearly see the disheveled mess of a man beneath you. He blushed hard at the sight. You leaned down and planted the tiniest peck to his forehead.

"Now, are you going to be late again?" you questioned playfully.

"N-No," Lucifer promised. "I'll come in from the farm on time, I-I swear! You'll never w-wait for me again!"

"That's exactly what I wanted to hear." You lined yourself up and slowly lowered yourself onto him, taking him an inch at a time. He was thicker than most, so he knew you needed just a little bit longer to adjust to his abnormal size. Not that you minded in the slightest, he was able to hit all of the right spots without even moving. Once you bottomed out on his cock, you both let out a wanton moan. After a few seconds of letting yourself stretch around him, you began to shift your hips. Your sudden movements forced Lucifer to lean against the crook of your neck for support. He felt as though you were trying to milk him dry. Which is exactly what you were doing.

"F-Fuck, Lucifer," you stuttered, "always making me f-feel so good, baby. Look s-so pretty under me..." Lucifer could barely hear your praises over his own sounds. This was pure bliss, but agonizingly torturous at the same time. His bound hands were eager to touch you, to hold you, to feel you.

"My love, please, I-I'm begging, let me go..." he cried into your shoulder. "I'm so so sorry, I-I...please..." You stopped your movement completely and started gently petting the back of his head. How could you deny him any longer?

You reached down and grabbed the sheathed blade that adorned his hip. "Stay perfectly still," you commanded, reaching around and carefully slicing the ties around his arms and wrists, letting the rope fall to the floor. You tossed the knife far away from you while Lucifer's hand immediately gripped your hips.

"T-Thank you, darlin'," he whispered against you, "let me make it up to you now. S-Show you how sorry I really am." Without warning, Lucifer lifted you up only for him to slam you right back down on his throbbing cock. The cry you let out was lustful and wanting. His hips bucked up into you at a relentless pace, your cunt clenching around him desperately while you both chased your highs. You dug your nails into his shoulders for support as he pounded into you over and over. You felt that familiar knot in your stomach growing larger, threatening to snap any given second as your lover pushed you to your breaking point with each thrust.

"L-Luci," you whimpered helplessly, "I'm close, s-so close, mmph, fffffuuu-uuuccck..." Your pleas only seemed to drive him even madder than he already was as one of his hands left your hips, his thumb finding that small sensitive bundle of nerves. You nearly screamed from the new sensation.

"Me too, sweetheart, m-me too, shit,' Lucifer breathed. "Cum f' me, l-let me feel you cum around me..."

With those words, stars clouded your vision. You felt your cunt pulsate around Lucifer's cock, tightening and squeezing him without abandon, your juices leaking onto his lap. Your orgasm pushed your lover over the edge as well, his grunts and whimpers echoing throughout the room as he filled you up to the brim with his hot seed, having to bite down your shoulder as to not lose himself in the pleasure. As you both started to recover from your highs, you cupped Lucifer's face in your hands and brought him in for a deep kiss. Your tongues fought for dominance, still trying to catch your breath in the process. You pulled away from him, his half-lidded eyes gazing up at your adoringly.

"You owe me a new rope," you chastised lovingly.

~~~

I have no real excuse for this :3

[thecuriousbeauty]

One more to love

(Famous!reader x Husband!harry )

Synopsis- You decide to surprise your husband for Valentine's Day. Harry's on Tour in Canada, not expecting you at all. You get back home after a few fun filled days with him and only when you fall sick does a doubt arise in your head. Can love making on the day of love lead to a baby?

This can be treated as part 2 to this, or you can read it as a stand alone.

Word count:6.7K

Warnings: Smut, some really sweet intimacy, praising. Lots of fluff, Harry being the sweetest husband, mentions of performance anxiety, pregnancy. Oh and watch out for best friend! Niall

_____________________________________________________

You leaned over the mirror as you swiped red lipstick over your lips. You reserve wearing red lips for special occasions. It was safe to say that today was one. You were in Toronto, to surprise your husband for Valentine’s Day! He was on tour, and you were busy with a few song recordings so neither of you could see each other in the last two months.

"Do I look okay?", you asked your friend Kiara, as you smack your lips together, before stepping away from the mirror. 

"Hell, you look amazing.", Kiara said. You were wearing a sheer black top, ripped blue jeans and boots. You let your hair down in waves, and you were pretty satisfied with your look.

"He's going to get hard from just looking at you.", she said, making you laugh. “You sure you can’t come along?”

Kiara, one of your best friends is a model. You had flown out to Toronto with her from London. She had some work here for the next few days.

“Wish I could, but gotta go babe.”, Kiara pulls you into a hug. “Have fun with your man, eh?”

“Oh I will.”, you grin at the thought of seeing Harry. “I’ll see you soon Ki, thanks for helping me get ready.”

“Of course. See ya!”

You were now alone in the hotel room, your car was going to be here soon, that’ll take you to the venue Harry’s performing at. While you were putting on your heels, you got a call from another one of your best friend’s.

"Hello Nialler!”, you answer. If it wasn’t for Niall, you’d be a complete mess whenever you felt sad and alone about Harry being on tour. Even though Niall always annoyed the crap out of you, you know you’re lucky to have him as your close friend. You can count on him. 

"Can yeh explain why there is a huge bunch of roses, chocolates and a big teddy bear on yeh doorstep?", Niall asks, making your face light up. 

“Aw! That must be Harry. He might have had it shipped.”

“Yeh, looks like. I forgot it’s Valentine’s Day.” 

“Wait, why are you at my house? You breaking in when I’m not around?”, you gasped.

“Not sure if it’s breaking in if the owner gave me the keys.”, Niall snorts. “And I’m just dropping by to search for my favorite hoodie I think I left here.”

“Can you please move all the things Harry sent safely into the house for me?”

“What if it’s not Harry? What if it’s your secret admirer?”, Niall gasps, and you laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, wait! There’s a card. Yes, it’s Harold, alright.”

“Of course it is. What does the card say?”

“You can see for yourself when you’re back.”, Niall says, and you hear noises of him moving things. “I’m gonna leave everything here except the chocolates. They look good, y/n.”

“No! Harry got them for me!”

After you convinced Niall to leave your chocolates alone, and he found his hoodie, he was locking your house and rushing to work. Your car was here to take you to the venue, and you took your bag having things you got for Harry, before getting in. Jeff greeted you backstage and unfortunately for you, the show started a little bit earlier than the scheduled time so your man was already on stage. 

Never mind, you could wait until the show was over. 

Your heart did a leap as you finally saw your husband. He wore a pink suit, hair perfectly done, and the crowd screamed as he moved around on stage. You loved watching Harry perform. He was in his element. 

Something was thrown to him onstage and he caught it. He got to know that it was a bra only when he looked at it and he shrieked, throwing it away. 

"Excuse me?", Harry said into the mic. "No throwing me bras, you know why?"

"WHY?”

"Because I'm a happily married man!", he did a dramatic hair flip and showed the crowd his hand bearing the wedding ring, making you giddy. That was your man right there. "The only bra I'd like to catch is my wife's and my wife's only!"

You blushed.

You hid when the team came off stage.

“Good show, guys, well done.”, Harry says as he makes sure to hug all his team members.

"Wait, Harry, we have a surprise for you.", Claire said. 

Harry turns to look at her, smiling already. He loves surprises. "I do?" 

"Yes.", she said. "Would you kindly close your eyes?"

"Why?"

"Mitch, please do the honors."

Mitch closed Harry’s eyes with his palms. “What the hell?”

Mitch just laughed in reply. You came out of your hiding place, and the people on his team who didn’t know that you were here gasped, some of them clapped waiting for Harry’s reaction. 

"What? Is it the President?", Harry joked.

As he stood there clueless, Mitch pulled away and you wrapped your arms around him. You were so happy to be in his arms again. You squeezed his waist, pressing your head against his chest. Harry quickly wrapped his arms around you when he realized it’s you. Only you could fit like a perfect little puzzle in his arms.

Harry hugged you tighter and kissed the top of your head. "y/n?”, he whispers.

"Happy Valentine's day baby!", you smiled at him and pulled away. Then you got down on one knee and pulled out a rose bouquet from behind your back offering it to him. His hands flew to his mouth in shock.

"F-For me?", Harry squeaked looking at the beautiful flowers. You beamed and nodded. Other guys might not like flowers so much, but Harry does, and you know it.

"T-thank y-you.", Harry stuttered and took them. He remained speechless with shock for a while and you let him take his time. You were still on one knee so he shifted the flowers to one hand and held your hand with the other, pulling you up. 

"H-Hi.", Harry blurted out and you giggled, kissing his cheek.

"Hey."

"Are you r-real?"

You laughed and stood on your tiptoes, closing your eyes before pressing your lips to his. Harry closed his eyes too, pulling you closer by your waist, feeling himself getting lost as the kiss deepened. As much as you wanted to keep kissing him, you were around others, so you pulled away slowly. “Does it seem real now?”

"Too much PDA!", Mitch complained, covering his eyes.

"Deal with it buddy!", you said. 

 Harry looked from her to Mitch. "Did you know?", he asked Mitch.

"We all did.", he said motioning to the rest of his crew. 

"See babe, Kiara had the fashion week here, so I flew with her to surprise you. I told these guys and made them promise not to tell you. I'm sorry for not answering your calls today, now you know why. Did you get surprised?", you explained, still in his arms.

"I-I yeah!", Harry said and you giggled and hugged his neck. 

"Oh H, you look like a tomato.", Sarah said. Harry shot her a glare. 

"Cute though.", you  kissed his nose. "I love you.", Harry whispered. He cupped your cheeks and stroked his thumbs on them, taking in every part of you, a smile tugging at his lips. His eyes fixed on your plump red lips, his favorite lipstick on you. “God, I fucking love you. You look incredible, love."

“Thank you, so do you! And, I love you too.”

Harry grinned. “Thank you so much for coming, this is the best Valentine’s day present ever. You! I’m so happy. Did you watch me perform!?”

“Of course I did! You were great!”

"Thanks! How long are you gonna be with me?"

"Um, four days. I go back to London Saturday morning.", you said softly, and his face fell. 

"I-Including today?"

You shook your head. "From tomorrow."

You know Harry still wished he had you for some more time.

"Babe, it's okay, we'll make the best out of what we have.", you said. "And soon you're going to be on the UK leg, so we can see each other more, cheer up now.", you said, poking his cheeks with your index fingers and he smiled, nodding.

“I’m so glad you’re here, I was going crazy without you.", he said, nuzzling his head into your neck. You ran your hand through his hair and smiled in content. "Me too, I will fly over anytime for you." Harry kissed your neck.

"These are beautiful. Wait, so you didn't get the ones I sent you?", Harry asked about the flowers.

"Sorry no, but Niall’s got it all safe in the house..", she said. "Aw, here, we'll share.", he said and took a single rose out and gave it to you. You chuckled. "Thanks babe."

"Give me a few minutes to freshen up and we can get out of here.", Harry said, already shrugging off the suit. You went to talk to the crew while Harry was gone. He got back in record time.

"Let's go?"

 "Yep." He kissed your cheek, as he took your hand in his. "How can someone be so pretty?", he wonders, making you blush. "Stop it, babe."

He laughs, nudging his nose against your cheek. "What do you wanna do tonight?"

"Whatever you want."

"No, your choice."

"I'm fine with anything."

"I am too."

"Harryyy.”

He laughed as you walked. “We could go out for dinner at some fancy place. Or we can go to the hotel room, just me and you there." Harry was leaning to the second option but he still wanted you to pick. He was already having a hard time keeping his hands to himself.

“Let’s go to the hotel room, I like me and you time.”, you winked.

So you made it to his hotel room, and while your luggage was being brought in, Harry kept the roses you gave him safely in a vase. Then he closed the door and tugged you into his arms, lips attacking yours again. You jumped a little so you could wrap your legs around his waist, and he hums in pleasure as one of his hands grips the back of your neck, and the other around your hip, keeping you steady. He bites your bottom lip, and you open your mouth, letting his tongue explore your mouth.

“I missed you so much.”, you breathe when he pulls away for a second. 

“I missed you more, kitten.", Harry moves his lips to your neck, making you moan softly as you arched your neck back. You loved that nickname he had for you. “What did you miss about me?”, he asks.

“Oh everything.”, your hands play with the curls at the nape of his neck. “Everything about you, Harry.”

“Yeah? Did you miss my cock?”, Harry asks, taking your top off with one hand. He tossed off your bra in seconds, groaning as he squeezed your breast in his hand. You moaned at the feeling, you missed being touched by him. “S-So much.” 

You could feel his dick getting hard, it was pressing against his stomach and your clothed center. “You miss my pussy?”, you ask him.

“Bloody hell, I’ve been dreaming about it every fucking day.”, Harry mumbles as he takes you to bed, lips leaving marks down your neck. “You gonna let me fuck your pretty little pussy today? As a Valentine’s day gift for me?”

“I don’t know, should I? You left me all alone to go on tour.”, you pout, gasping softly as you land on the bed, and Harry slides out of his pants before crawling over you. 

“I know, I’m sorry, my heart.”, Harry mumbles, sliding his hands to your hips. “I’ll make it up to you, yeah? Make you feel so good.”

“I’d love that.”, you smile, and moan as his lips wrap around your nipple. You move your hand to feel his crotch, making him groan. “Get it all off, let me see you.”, you whisper. Harry listens, letting your nipple out of his mouth with a ‘pop’ and quickly pulling off his shirt and his boxers. You slide down your jeans, while your eyes roam over his body. His broad tattooed chest was heaving up and down and his sculpted abs made you want to run your hand over them. Your hand dips lower to his dick, which was hard and standing up straight. 

“See what you do to me, kitten?”, Harry asks, fingers looping around the waistband of your panties. He moans as you stroke his dick. “I need to be inside you.”

“Yes, fill me up, babe.”, you lift your hips so he can slide your panties down your legs. “Let me see that pussy, been waiting for so long.”, he pushes your thighs apart and groans at the sight of your pussy. It was glistening, dripping down with your arousal. 

“Never seen a pussy this pretty.”, Harry collects the arousal, bringing it to his lips. “Oh. You taste so sweet, baby.”

You moan as he dips his fingers inside you. “I think your little hole has gotten tighter, sweetheart. Didn’t have my dick in it for two months, hm? Poor baby.”

“P-Please Harry.” You needed to feel full. 

“Gonna give you what you need, love. Always take care of you.” Harry circles his thumb over your clit, making you arch your back and let out another moan. “Did it feel good when you touched yourself, baby?”

“Y-Yes, but not as good as when you do it.” Harry smiles, capturing your lips in a kiss. “Don’t worry baby, I’m here to take care of you now.” 

Harry slips his dick inside your pussy, and you throw your head back on the pillow, moaning. He slowly pushed his dick inside, and you realized just how much you missed having him inside you. Phone sex does the job for both your needs, but the intimacy, the closeness that you get when you’re together, phone sex doesn’t give you that. 

“Oh fuck..it feels so good.”, Harry moans, hovering over you. He was letting you adjust since it has been a while. You pull him down closer, hands going to his back. “Y-You can move, babe.”

Harry thrusts his hips, and the rooms fill with sounds of pleasure. No other man has ever made you feel so good. You didn’t even know sex could feel so amazing, until you met Harry.

“Fuck you’re so perfect.”, Harry squeezes your boobs. “You’re all mine, aren’t you?”

“Y-Yes, yes, all yours, fuck, right there....” His dick moved in and out of you at a steady pace, hitting all the right spots. He knew your body like the back of his hand. He knew exactly what you needed. You saw pure love and adoration in his eyes when you looked at him, and you brought your hand to the side of the bed, opening your palm. Harry grabs your hand, letting you hold it. 

“Shit, are you c-close babe?”, Harry asks, quickening his pace, making you curl your toes. “Oh yeah, yeah I’m gonna cum..”

“Cum around me, kitten, all over my dick.”, Harry presses kisses to your shoulder. You reach your high soon, and Harry kisses you through it. Harry couldn’t hold on any longer, he also cums right after you do. 

“I love you.”, he breathes, collapsing on top of you. You smile, holding him close, running a hand through his curls. “I love you too.”

He brings your tangled hands up to kiss the back of your hand. “M’ so lucky you’re my wife, and proud.” 

“Me too. Seeing all those girls going crazy for you today, and knowing that you’re gonna be in my arms later? No better feeling.”, you winked, and he laughs, pressing another kiss to your lips before lifting up on his hands and moving down on the bed, separating your legs again.

“I’m very hungry.”, he explains, looking away from your eyes and to your pussy. He hums, pushing some of his cum leaking out of you back inside with his fingers. “Gonna let me eat, kitten?”

______________________________________

“Those butter tarts were so good, I should have thrown some in my bag for later.”, you whisper to Harry as you walk back from the breakfast buffet, hand in hand. The plan was to go out sightseeing today, Harry said he could arrange a car. 

Harry hums. “They were good. Think Canada’s famous for them.”

"Good morning!" Mitch and Adam popped out of nowhere, just as you were about to step into the elevator. "Where did you guys come from?", Harry chuckled. "Oh we were just-"

"Hanging around.", Adam completed.

Mitch nodded. "Hanging around."

"Great, morning, we gotta go.", Harry said and you nodded, waving to them. "Wait.", Mitch said. "Did you have a really nice night yesterday?"

"Yes.", you both said in chorus. He smirked and exchanged glances with Adam as they giggled. "I could hear you guys even with earphones.", Adam said and you blushed.

"Oh shut up.", Harry said, waving him off.

"No kidding, I was this close to banging on your door.", Mitch said, showing a little bit with his index and thumb fingers. "How was your night Mitch?", you ask back. 

"Um, just like every other night, play video games after the show.", he mumbled.

"But yesterday was Valentine's Day.", you said.

"Uh huh so?"

"So, you’re just lonely cause you can't make a move on Sarah, how long are you going to keep saying you're friends?", you shoot back, making Harry and Adam burst out laughing. Mitch gave you a glare. 

"Roasted.", Harry whispered to him and kissed your cheek, continuing to walk. "That is not true!", Mitch said.

"Yeah right.", Adam said sarcastically. "Come on mate, she's right, you had the perfect chance to take her out yesterday."

"He should learn from me.", Harry said, slipping his arm around your waist pulling you closer. "Ask the girl out before she goes away, cause she might just be the love of your life."

"Is it?", you tease. "Mhm. I love you."

You kissed him. "I love you too."

______________________________________________________________

“Ok, lets play a game…”, Harry started.

“You have to shoot these grapes into my mouth and every time you miss I get to dare you to do something in front of all these people."

 “Ok but only if you play too.” Harry nodded. After some sightseeing, you wanted some place quiet and to be alone, so you found a place for a picnic, got a basket from one of the stores and sat by a lake. It was your kind of perfect.

“I'll go first.", Harry said while taking a grape. "Open wide." You moved a little away from him and opened your mouth wide. 

Harry squinted his eyes aiming and shot it into your mouth. “WOO!” Harry exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air and doing a victory dance.

"Yeah whatever, my turn." He grinned and opened his mouth. You carefully aimed and threw it, but it hit the side of his lips instead of going in.

"Nooo."

"Yeah!! I dare you to…hmm… go ask that little boy for his number.” he said, pointing to a little boy.

 “WHAT?! That's creepy, he's like 7 years old!", you said. "A dare's a dare kitten.", he smirked.

"Okay fine, watch me.", you ruffled his hair before getting up and walking to the boy who was playing football all alone. 

"Hey buddy?" You wave at him. He looked up at you. "What?" 

"I look at your shirt, it’s cool.”, you said and smiled. "Uh, thanks.", he mumbled in a Canadian accent.

"Hey can I get your number real quick?” You cringed at how that came out, but it was a dare.

He looked at you again, now checking you out. "Where are you from, pretty lady?"

You chuckled. "Um, London?"

"You can get my number on one condition."

"What?"

"You have to play soccer with me."

You smiled and nodded. "Sure, can we call my friend too?" You pointed at Harry giggling in the distance. "Of course."

"COME ON FRIEND, WE'RE PLAYING SOCCER!", you yelled. His eyes grew wide as soccer balls.. 

"FRIEND?  YOU ARE MARRIED TO ME!", Harry marched up to you and you laughed. The boy took your hand and looked at the wedding ring.

"That is not cool, you want my number after being married?"

"It was a dare, you are not giving her your number.", Harry caught up. You pinch his arm. "Come on babe, he's a kid."

"What's your name?", you ask the boy. "Dan.", he said. "Is the offer still up for soccer?" He grinned and nodded. "Foot ball.", Harry muttered under his breath and you chuckled and kissed his cheek.

"What's your name tattoo man?", Dan asked Harry and he scoffed, as if the boy was some competition to him.

"I'm Harry."

He grinned and pulled you off to play with him.

"What is it with you and kids? You're like honey, and they're like bees.", Harry said as he tackled Dan with the football.

"I'm quite likable, you know...", you say as Dan passes the ball to you.

"We're going to get arrested if his mum finds us and thinks we're kidnappers."

___________________________________________________

"I have a show tomorrow.", Harry said slowly, leaving kisses down your neck. You were cuddling in his bed.

"Uh huh, and?”

"And, I can have special guests on my shows."

"Who do you have tomorrow?"

He looked up and gave you a look. "How did I end up with you?"

You grinned, tweaking his nose. "I give an awesome blowjob?"

He smiled and bit your nose. "True that. And I was talking about you, you dummy! You can sing a few songs with me if you’d like.”

"What-no.", you began shaking your head. "Harry there are more than twenty thousand people in your shows, not all of them like me."

"They love you, darling. You don't have to worry about the few who are just in their own imaginary world. I’d really love if I had my wife on stage singing with me.”

How could you say no to that face? Harry jutted out his bottom lip, making him look all cute. "Jeff will talk to Mel, I'm sure she'll agree.", he says. Mel was your manager. And before doing anything that might send the public into a frenzy, you had to talk to Mel.

"What if I freak out at the last minute?"

"That's normal."

"How's that normal?"

He chuckled and kissed your collarbone. "For you it is. You freak out before going onstage, then when you get in your zone, you're wonderful."

You smiled and pecked his lips. "You'll be there, promise? And will you protect me if your fans throw their heels at me?"

He giggled and kissed the tip of your nose. "I will darling, promise."

The last time you sang with Harry on stage was during One Direction’s last show. You had been their opening act. That’s how you started your music journey. Singing for the boys was like a dream come true. It was the best opportunity you got at that time, when you were just starting out. That’s also how you fell in love with the curly haired, dimpled lad. 

_____________________________________________________ 

"Yeah but, I haven't sung in front of that many people in a long time, Ni.", you murmur as you talked to Niall on the phone while you got your makeup done. You had done rehearsals with Harry, and all was good, but you have a ritual of freaking out a little before going on stage. 

"y/n, you'll do fine.", Niall said. "And Harry's onstage with you, so what's there to worry about?"

"Yeah, you're right. And um what do you do with your hands when you're not holding a guitar onstage?" You were not going to have a guitar around you like you do on your shows. Niall burst out laughing. 

"I'm being serious!" 

"You're so funny. What can I say about doing things with your hands? I think you'd better ask your husband that." You groaned. "Niaaaaall."

He laughed. "Stop over thinking, y/n, it’ll be fine..”

"Right, see you soon.”

"Yep. Love you, all the best, you don't need it but just in case his fans throw eggs at you?"

You gasped. "WILL THEY?"

"I was kidding! No, they won't."

 "Hopefully. Love you too, bye Nialler."

“Bye love, tell Harold I said hi!”

You smiled and got up from the chair as the stylist handed you a beautiful dress. "This is cute!"

After you put it on, and got your hair done, you went backstage where the rest of the crew were.

Mitch let out a whistle as he saw you and Harry looked up who was fiddling with his ear piece. Harry's eyes widened and his lips spread into a smile.

"Do I look okay?", I asked him, who looked unbelievably good in that purple suite. 

"Okay? You look beautiful!", Claire squeezed your shoulder.  "Thanks, so do you.", you said back and she smiled and bowed. "Why thank you."

"You're stunning, darling.", Harry said. "That rhymed!", Mitch played a dramatic strum on his guitar. 

You saw Sarah shaking her head and smiling at him from the corner of your eyes. "Thanks, you look amazing." You said, pecking Harry's lips. "Thank you.", he beamed.

"Will you be mad if I mess up?", you ask.

He chuckled and kissed your nose. "You won't mess up."

"I might, you know."

"Baby you won't, trust me, I know. And no, I won't be mad, I'm really happy that you agreed to sing on my show, it's the effort that counts."

"Yeah right, say that when I mess up."

He laughed and tugged you into a hug. "Famous young sensation or not, you haven't changed one bit, love."

"Famous young sensation?" You laughed.

"That's what the media calls you!", he said laughing too.

You smiled. "You love me the way I am, why would I change?" 

He grinned. “Exactly, glad you know that. I love you, will you be okay?"

"I'll be okay."

"Don't go anywhere."

"I won't."

"See ya."

You kissed his lips and then his cheek. "I love you too, have fun."

"Will do." He grinned and kissed your forehead before he had to get going.

You did some vocal exercises in the meantime. You've dealt with some anxiety when it comes to shows, and Harry really helped you during your early days. He's helped you a lot, to get to who you are today.

You figured Harry prepared his set list for you, because it had all your favorite songs of his. You sang along with him from where you stood. He also sang If I could Fly, which he wrote for you during 1d days, and you got a bit teary eyed as he looked straight at you after the song.

Finally, it was time for you to be on stage.

"We have an extra song for you guys today." Screams just as he said that. "And a very special guest who has stolen my heart.”

You smiled.

 "PLEASE WELCOME, MY WONDERFUL WIFE Y/N STYLES!"

YouI took a breath before walking to the stage and the crowd started roaring. You waved with your hand not holding the mic. 

When you walked up to Harry, he smiled, hugging you gently and kissing your cheek. "SURPRISE?", he said to the crowd and you laughed as they shouted back 'Yes!'

"I thought so. She's here to sing one of her songs, also one of my favorites, with me!" 

You said hi to the crowd, and nodded at Harry, telling him you were ready. The band started playing the music and you started singing. Harry took his ear pieces out wanting to hear you.

His face broke into a cute smile as he swayed and looked at you while you sang. Harry didn't join you for the first verse and chorus. He sang the second verse. 

He looked at you while singing and you both eventually forgot the crowd and faced each other.

When you finished the song, Harry had a proud grin, like that’s my girl. You grinned back, wrapping your arms around his neck as you hugged him.

"I love you, y/n.", he whispered, kissing your hair. "I love you too, H.”

__________________________________________________

It was the day you were flying back to London. The last few days were so much fun and it went by so fast. Both of you were quiet that morning. You got some cuddles in, showered together, just enjoying each other’s presence before you had to part again. You were stuffing some of your last minute things into your bag with a sad frown on your face.

Harry was sitting on the bed, watching you. “Babe.”, he calls and you turn around to look at him. 

“Come here.”, he pats his lap.

You happily sat on his lap and cuddled into his arms. Harry held you close, kissing the top of your head. 

"So you'll come over and sing for free whenever I call you?"

"Hey, who said it was free? I need a hefty paycheck before I go.", you joked.

Harry laughs, kissing your cheek. "Think your manager has got it already."

"What? I was just joking, babe. I don't need to be paid for your show, you're my husband!"

"Yes, but you're also a gifted singer.", he squeezed your thigh. You press a kiss to his forehead. "All because of you. Thank you for everything you've done for me."

Harry shakes his head, smiling. "It's all you, love. Your hard work."

You played with the curls on the back of his head, as you remained quiet for a few minutes.

"Thanks for coming to see me even while having a busy schedule, love. It means a lot to me.”, he murmurs.

You kissed his neck. "Of course. We should do it again soon.”

Soon, it was time for you to go. Harry came with you to the airport, where you met with Kiara again.

"You shouldn't have come.", you tell Harry as you wait for the flight announcement.

"Why not? You didn’t want me to send you off?"

"Because I'll start crying in front of everyone."

He chuckled and squeezed your hand. "When has that ever stopped you before?"

"Not important.", your voice dropped a little. "Come with me?"

The bright green of his eyes faded. "You know I can't sweetheart, I would love to.". he said, putting his arm around you, and curling you to his side. You nodded, curling your fingers around his shirt.

"Hey,"he whispered, kissing your shoulder. "Don't be upset."

"I'm not.", you wiped under your nose.

"But don't lie either." You smiled a bit and kissed his forehead. "Maybe I am a bit."

He smiled back, brushing his fingertips along the skin peeking out of your top.

"If you need anything, seriously, anything, just call me. I don't care what time it is, or whatever. Even if it's just to talk, or take something off your chest, don't carry it around babe.", he said.

You nodded and ran a hand through his curls. "What are you going to do after reaching home?", he asks.

"Sleep and cry."

He chuckled. "Don't cry."

"You have no rights to say that after doing this to me."

He laughed again and pressed a kiss to your nose. "You’re so cute. I love you so much.”

______________________________________________

As soon as you got home, you saw the huge packages that Harry had sent you for Valentine’s Day. You began tearing it open. You saw a huge shiny red heart box. You opened it and out popped a teddy bear holding 'I love you'. You giggled and took it out. You set the box of your favorite chocolates aside to devour later. Then there was a super soft and fuzzy blanket which you rubbed against your cheek, instantly falling in love. Harry's the best. There was also a scented candle.

Then your eyes fall on the card Niall mentioned. The front is decorated with balloons and hearts. You knew Harry took the time to make it himself. You opened it. 

Hi darling, good morning, good afternoon or good night. I'm not really sure when you'll get this, you know. Happy Valentine's Day! 

So where do I start? I miss you, that's a good point to start. I miss you and I would do anything to be with you now but I am so sorry that I can't. I do want to cover you in kisses and hug you and never let you go. This is our first Valentine's Day after being married, and the third in total. This is supposed to be a day dedicated to your loved ones but I don't get it sometimes, my whole life is dedicated to you.

"Don't cry, don't cry, keep it together y/n.", you mumbled to yourself, while sniffling... 

Did you know you make me so happy that sometimes I actually forget to breathe? I'll be looking at you, my chest explodes and all I want to do is take you in my arms and kiss you. You're breathtakingly beautiful. My life found a new meaning and passion when I met you. The way you look at me, talk to me, touch me, hug me, kiss me, everything, makes me feel very special. I wanna thank you for always being there, for forgiving me whenever I have messed up horribly, for trusting me after everything you've been through and for loving me. I hit the jackpot when I found you, you're perfect y/n, so damn perfect, I swear. I could go on and on about you, you know, I have to wind up. I hope you like everything I sent you. I miss you and I love you, y/n. I'm always here for you, whatever you need, I'm here. 

P.S- Sorry if the drawings are bad, but I wanted to do it myself. If that makes you laugh then so be it, your laugh could cure diseases, that's how beautiful it is. I have to stop, god, I'm rambling even while writing. I'll call you as soon as the show is over. Have an amazing day my gorgeous forever valentine. 

Bucket loads of love,

Your sexy hot husband, Harry.

______________________________________________

1 month later:-

"Uh how about lunch?', Niall asked.

"I'm not hungry.", you whined and curled around in the blankets.

"But you have to eat when you're sick.", he said. You were in the couch, curled up. You’ve been feeling a bit sick since the past few days. 

"I might throw up if I eat.", you said.

Niall sighed. "Have you told Harry?", he asked, looking down at you in concern.

"No, don't tell him."

"Why not?"

"Cause he'll be worried for no reason and he can't concentrate on what he's doing.", you said. YouI just wanted to cuddle in your husband’s arms right now but of course that can't happen.

“Do you want me to go grab you some medicine or something?”, Niall asks. You smile and shake your head.

“I’m fine, Ni. You can go if you’re busy..”, you tell your friend, patting his arm. Niall was worried about you, so he dropped by to see for himself.

“I’m free today.”, Niall said.

"Can we watch a movie?", you asked hopefully. He smiled, ruffling your hair. "Course we can, if I get to pick.", he added. 

You talk to Niall as you watch the movie, and when Niall goes to get some snacks from the kitchen, you get a thought. You hadn’t got your period this month. Now, you were feeling sick. 

“Oh shit. No way.”, you gasped, and sat up.

“What’s wrong? You gonna puke again?”, Niall asks, munching loudly as he comes back with two bags of chips.

“No. I didn’t get my period!”

“Isn’t that good? You complain about cramps.”, Niall shrugs, sitting down beside you. You smack his arm, making him yelp. “Ow! What’s that for?”

“I-I could be pregnant!”

Niall’s big blue eyes widened, his munching slowing down in pace. “Wow.”

You stood up, your heart beating fast. So many thoughts ran through your mind. You know Harry wants to have kids someday, and so do you, but it’s not even been a year since your wedding and you both are so busy right now, with your careers. 

“Oh god..i-it can’t be, right?”

Niall sees just how freaked out you’re getting in, and he cleans his hand before keeping it on your shoulder. “y/n, look at me. Deep breath. You don’t know for sure. And if you are pregnant, I’m sure you both will figure it all out, okay?”

You nod, taking a deep breath like he said. “I s-should take a pregnancy test.”

Niall nods. “Do you have any?”

“I think I have one. I’ll get some more later. I-I’ll uh..be right back.”

Niall gives you a hug. “I’ll be here, hm? You do what you have to do.”

“Thanks Niall.”, you whisper, squeezing him before pulling away and heading upstairs. You had two pregnancy tests laying around just for emergencies like these. It wasn’t the first time you were having pregnancy scares.

You decided to use both the tests, and you waited anxiously. You’ve always wanted to be a mom, and Harry would make an amazing dad, no doubt. You were just worried about the timing of it all. 

Finally, it was five minutes and you took a look at both of them. Both showed a similar result.

Two lines.

“O-Oh my god.”, you gasped, your eyes welling up with tears. There was a human life inside you. You were going to be a mother!

_____________________________________________________

You were counting down days, waiting for Harry to come home. Tour would still go on once he’s back, but it would be the UK leg, so at least he’d be close. The only people who knew you were pregnant were your gynecologist, Niall and Kiara.You didn’t want to tell your husband the news over the phone, so you waited.

You thought of different ways to tell Harry you were pregnant, but then you decided just to show him the pregnancy test. You were too nervous for anything else. 

Finally, it was the day Harry was coming back home, and you rushed to get the door as you heard the doorbell.

There stood your tall, curly, handsome husband. He wore a black shirt with the first few buttons open showing off his tattooed chest, paired with his usual skinny black jeans. His eyes were bright, and his face broke into a charming smile as he took you in.

Even after traveling for hours, he looked like that.

He let his luggage drop to wrap you up in his arms. “I’m home, baby!!”

“You are!”, you giggled as he spun you around. He grinned as he kept you down, only to grab your face. “You gonna kiss me or what?”, you smirk, and he laughs, closing the distance between your lips’. 

You pulled him inside and closed the door. “Oh it smells so good, darling, and I’m starving.”, Harry hums, putting his arms out again. “Another hug, please. Missed you so much.”

You smile. “I have a surprise for you before that.”

“You’re surprising me every time we meet, kitten.”, he chuckles. You pulled out the pregnancy test from your pocket, and held it out. 

Harry’s jaw hung open and a range of emotions flashed through his eyes.You waited for him to come down from his state of shock and when he did, he choked out, “R-Really?”

You nod, smiling through your tears. “I-I’m pregnant, Harry.”

Harry laughed, but the tears were gushing out of his eyes. “W-We’re gonna have a baby. y/n, sweetheart, this is amazing.” Your head crashed against his chest as he tugs you into his arms again. 

“You’re happy?”, you whisper, looking up at him. 

“Of course I’m happy.”, he sniffles, touching his forehead to yours. “I love you so, so much.”

“I love you too, Harry.” Harry brings a hand to your middle, and you smile, placing your hand over his as he greets your baby.  “Hey there, little Styles. It's your daddy."

_______________________________________________

Taglist: @harrydeary, @harryswifee, @harrysbxtchh, @gracelovesethan

Please let me know if you want me to add you to my taglist! Please Reblog and like to support my writing. Thank you so much for reading:)

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍: Clothed Sex w/ Daryl Dixon

a/n: writing this actually made me giggle because the dad + husband!daryl combo in me just jumped out, so you guys get a little sprinkle of that. also, this is commonwealth daryl because he's so sexy and dilfy and fatherly and i don't write about him enough.

masterlist | kinktober masterlist | AO3

When it came to the apocalypse, there was little to no time to be intimate. From going scavenging to protecting your people, the free time that you'd usually have was cut short. You found it funny that it was the end of the world with no dead lines or due dates, but you still had to see if you could fit sex into your schedule.

Now with Judith and RJ in you and Daryl's care, you were almost never alone. So, when opportunities to have grown up time presented itself, you all but jump at it.

"Hurry, D. We've only got twenty minutes before we have to get the kids from school." You said breathlessly, both palms balanced on the counter top of your Commonwealth apartment. 

Daryl was behind you, tugging your pants and panties down your full hips hurriedly. You balanced yourself on your forearms, your back arched and presented for your husband. Daryl wasn't in any better shape really, his thick fingers working frantically at the zipper of his black jeans.

"I can pick 'em up — fuck." He swore as he entered you. "Can you please just focus on fucking me?" You all but growled. "Yeah, yeah. Sorry, sunshine." He apologized.

He held onto your hips, his hands keeping a firm grip on you as he pulled out, almost fully slipping out of you before slamming back in harshly. His thrust sent you forward with a loud moan, your breasts almost falling out of your v-neck top at the impact.

"Deeper." You whimpered in bliss. It had been so long since Daryl had fucked you, though the stretch was a bit painful due to the lack of foreplay, you welcomed the sensation that wasn't emptiness with open arms.

"Trying'ta feel me in yer stomach?" Despite asking you, he slammed into you harder, his tip prodding at your g-spot. A loud smack resounded throughout the open floor plan. "Ah!" You yelped, your hips shooting back on their own accord and your gummy walls clenched down on him.

"God— ya feel so good, beautiful." He groaned, his already raspy voice even deeper. "You sound so sexy, D." You whined. "Ya look even sexier." Leave it up to Daryl to turn the compliment back around on you.

He leaned over your body, kissing the free space between your shoulder blades. His scruff scratched and tickled your skin, but the sensation sent shivers down your spine.

"I — fuck… I think 'm gonna cum." You breathed, rotating your head back to be able to lean into his kisses. "'M gonna make you cum real good, sweetheart, alrigh'?" He promised, his warm breath hitting the shell of your year.

"Yes." Was all you can say through excitement at his promise. 

He leaned up again so he could pound into you faster and harder, pulling you closer and closer to your end. The coil in your gut threatened to snap, but it wasn't enough. It was as if Daryl could read your mind, because he stopped for a moment to lift your left leg, bending it over the counter.

You all but shouted at the position change, fully spread open on his cock so that he could reach deeper inside of you.

"Fuck, D!" You cried out, nails clawing at the hard marble. "You gonna cum, sunshine?" He asked through gritted teeth. You could feel him pulsing inside of you, his grip on your hip and the back of your knee tight enough to leave bruises.

"Cum with me." You demanded through another cry. "I will, I will."

As he delivered a few more thrusts, your walls fluttered around him, sucking him into you to hold him there selfishly as you creamed all over his dick.

You felt him pull out of you quickly as you rode out your orgasm, the man ejaculating all over the back of your shirt.

"Now—" You said through your burning lungs, "I only have five minutes to change my shirt."

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @murdadixon @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus

[darylsdelts]

Hi! Could you write a Daryl x f.reader hc in the mornings? I feel like slow mornings would be Daryl's favorite time of day, just enjoying his partner without having to think about the day ahead..

P.S: how did you not start writing sooner?? I love how your pretty brain brings our delusions to life lol

I’m gonna do the smaller request’s first so that they don’t pile up because having loads of requests makes me anxious😭 idk why but I’m getting to em all!

Anon!!! I love this so much! I love domestic daddy Daryl so much like yes! Idc what anyone says, he’s sooooo husband! And alsooooo… TYSM! I’m not really a writer😭 I didn’t intend to actually write on here but people started sending full on essays for me to write so why not. I did write some stuff on Wattpad though that I could post here??? If y’all want??? Anywayyyyyssss ily!

I always imagine these sorta things with you and Daryl in a secluded cabin, away from the community. You’re still part of the group but you and Daryl prefer to be alone together.

Living away from the community, Daryl is like a different person, he’s way more relaxed and less on guard. Less irritated by people too.

The sunlight seeps through the cracks in the curtains in the early mornings.

Daryl usually wakes up first but if he doesn’t then you shift closer, resting your chin on his bare chest and admiring his sleeping face.

His hair framing his relaxed face, he looks younger when he’s sleeping, your favourite part is how his rounded nose twitches when he starts to wake up.

As soon as he opens his eyes, you feel his chest vibrate as he hums, bringing his hand up to push a strand of hair behind your ear.

“What’d I tell ya ‘bout starin’, Hm?”

His lips twitch upward, he fucking loves the mornings when it’s so peaceful and it’s just him and you, like the world doesn’t really exist.

“I think you told me to quit it”

He chuckles, rubbing his thumb across your forehead.

Daryl thinks you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, especially when your hair is messy from sleep and you’re in barely any clothes.

There’s no doubt that every morning, his mind drifts to thinking about staying in bed with you all day, worshipping your body and making you feel good.

And that fantasy is almost always thrown out the window when the both of you hear paws enter the room, dog jumping up on the bed, licking at Daryls face.

“Dog! Jesus chri-… yeah, okay okay, good boy”

After getting out of bed, Daryl pulling on just his jeans that sit low on his waist and you in a thin night dress, you both go to the kitchen area.

Daryl feeds dog so he stops whining and then he’ll cook up something he hunted and serve it to you.

You’re greatful for your hunterman, taking such good care of you.

Even after being together all these years, Daryl still gets shy, sitting opposite you whilst eating, barely able to make eye contact.

Some mornings, if it was hot enough, you’d go swim in the lake with dog whilst Daryl would watch over the both of you. He’s not greatly fond of swimming in the lake since he wouldn’t be able to protect you as well as he could from the side.

“Can we go to the lake?” You ask as Daryl takes your plates.

“Ya wanna? Ain’t so hot out today, darlin’”

“I wanna”

He’d roll his eyes, he could never say no to you.

He’d sit on the bank next to the lake, watching you in just your panties and bra, swimming around in the water with dog.

After you get out you’d complain that it’s too cold and he’d bite his tongue, he did tell you so.

He’d wrap you in a towel and leave you shivering whilst he towels dog off.

“Shouldn’ta let ya go in the damn water, yer gon’ get sick”

You’d pout as you shiver, Daryl wraps his arms round you, kissing the top of your hair.

“Let’s get ya inside, warm my girl up”

You have a feeling you know what he means.

This isn’t even really hc’s 😭 full on story I’m sorry but I always get so carried away.

[netherfeildren]

Someone's Wife in the Boat of Someone's Husband .4

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Joel Miller x F!Reader)

Content Warnings: Mutual masturbation; Come eating; Angst; Vague mention of abortion; Discussions of child neglect; Discussions of unwanted pregnancy

Rating: Explicit 18+

A/N: Some of this is so… phew… idk what came over me or how i come up with some of this shit. sorry (but not really). Joel’s a little nasty in this beware

Art is by Denis Sarazhin.

Word Count: 7.7K

Read on AO3

.4

A single person is missing for you, and the whole world is empty.

Joan Didion, The Year of Magical Thinking

To think that despite his momentary acquiescence to your need for space, he was not, afterwards, made into a raving, snarling beast prowling its cage after having tasted you, would be fallacy – because that was what he was calling it in his mind, for now. Not yet ready to accept it within himself as a full blown rejection, so yes, for now, space, time.

He returns home with Sarah after the lakehouse – Eva gone off with her girlfriends on an extension of the weekend, wanting to draw out the farewell to summer just a little longer – to their routine of lunches and snacks and daycare and evenings playing mermaids and dinosaurs in the little pool in the backyard that he’d gotten for her at HEB. He tries to be good, to remain calm, controlled, but it’s just short of impossible. He feels as though he still has the taste of you on the surface of his tongue, the sounds of your moans ringing in his ears at all hours of the day, in bed at night, hard and aching and alone, wanting you. This turns out to be a different type of hell to the one he’s usually used to, that of monotony and loneliness and resentment. No, this is burning and painful, a type of fire that whips through his arteries and chars his bones and leaves him dizzy and disoriented.

He’s never experienced something like this before. Not in his entire life. 

It is not easy, per se, but productive, to lose himself in his work, and the start of Sarah’s school year. She’s in a 3K program for the fall, her first time going to a real school, and the work and preparation and pure fucking anxiety induced at the thought of his baby going to such a big school is overwhelming. No small feat to accomplish all on his own. 

But at night, after he’s worked himself into the ground all day, and read Sarah her bedtime story, at least three times, sometimes up to seven, but never passing ten, that was their very strict rule, and tucked her in and checked the closet and under the bed and behind the door for monsters, when he’s finally found himself alone and quiet and with a spare, but infinitely painful moment to think of you, he lets you in, in full force.

He pulls his shirt up over the back of his head, tossing it into the hamper as he passes his closet into his restroom, undoes his belt and jeans, pulling his contraband from the pocket, to push them off as he reaches to turn on the shower. 

As he lets the water heat up, he pauses to look at himself in the mirror. Tall, long frame, still pleasing to a woman, he’d imagine. Well, he hopes so. He’s still strong, his shoulders broad, his chest built from the long hours of hauling and climbing and exhaustive physical labor. There are a few grays threaded through the dark curls at his temples. Sprouting, just in the last year, to remind him that he’s getting older. One of his buddies had told him that eventually everything went gray, everything. That weirded the fuck out of him, to be honest.  He hates the thought of you seeing that, thinking of him as old. You’re so much younger than him. So pretty. Too pretty. His middle has gone slightly softer since hitting forty, but only slightly. There’s no helping that. And the small creases at the corners of his eyes… shit, he’s getting old. But his cock is still long and thick, and he’ll give that to you as much as you’ll let him. If you ever let him. All the time if he can. All he has to do is find a way to see you again, to convince you to let him see you again.

He feels a small bitter ribbon of self consciousness curl through his stomach as he takes himself in. He doesn’t want you to think of him as some old man. Some old, sleazy man who’d seen you and been so fucking desperate for you, he hadn’t cared that he was married, that you’re too young for him, that he has a family, and responsibilities and a life, like some pathetic fucking pervert. You’re just so lovely, so soft and pretty and you smell so good, always. And he’s been so alone for so fucking long. He is lonely. And you, you’d looked at him, you’d seen him, you’d wanted him back just as fiercely as he’d wanted you, even if just for a moment. How was he ever supposed to be strong enough to resist that? And further than your wanting, you’re good and kind and smart and so fucking funny and adorable. Joel could be strong when he needed to be, but he could also be weak, and he thinks that you, perhaps, have the power to make him weaker than anything else. 

What do you do when you meet a woman, have a child, get married, and then find the person who you could very well fall, probably, very deeply in love with?

Because yes, even now, he is emotionally aware enough to recognize that. More than anything, he can recognize that he has, as of yet, never been in love, but that you present the great, great possibility for that. And yes, it’s too soon, and maybe nonsensical or crazy or what have you, but Joel has always been a man that’s known himself well. When he knows, he knows, and when he chooses, he chooses, and he is very close to knowing and choosing you. 

He looks down at your panties laying on the bathroom counter – the ones he’d stolen. After you’d slipped them off, too wet from your come, from him making you come – they’re his now. 

He runs his thumb and forefinger along the silk lace at the edge. They’re a pretty, soft blue. He loves the color blue now. It will, forevermore, be his favorite color after this. The cut in the back is high, he knows the soft flesh of your ass was left mostly uncovered by them, he remembers he felt it when you rode his thigh. He wishes he could have seen it. He hopes he’ll have another chance to see it. 

If he thinks about it hard enough, he can imagine that the middle gusset is still damp from you. He brings them to his face, presses them to his nose and inhales deeply. The scent: still faintly musky, but also, slightly sweet. He sticks his tongue out to taste the fabric, and a violent shiver passes through him. He has to clutch at the countertop to hold himself upright. His cock is fully erect and leaking now. 

He has to taste you. He has to get the chance to. He’ll die if he doesn’t. He’s sure of it.

He brings the soft lace down to his aching erection. He doesn’t care if he’s disgusting. He doesn’t care about anything. All he wants is to feel you. To temper this fire churning in his blood. He can’t remember the last time his body felt like this, the last time he wanted something this fucking badly he felt like he’d die if he didn’t have it. Maybe never – he doesn’t think he’s ever felt like this. He wraps your panties around his hard length and starts to jack himself off. Strong, tight strokes from base to tip with the tiny, blue silk sliding along his fevered skin. The sound of your orgasm, the look in your eyes as you humped his thigh, ground your little clit on him and soaked his denim. He should’ve touched you more when he had the chance. He wants to fuck you so badly, wants to sink into the tight, wet clutch of your cunt and fuck you full of his come. Mark you. Brand himself into your skin so that you’re never without him. He wants you to smell like him. He wants to feel the wet gush he felt on his jeans on his cock and dripping down his balls, and Jesus fucking Christ, he comes at that. Long, thick ropes of white spend, spitting from his swollen tip at the thought of your pussy coming around him, a desperate whimper escaping in the quiet loneliness of his restroom.  

-

He thinks of you constantly, what seems like every moment of the day, in the weeks that follow. As much as he tries to keep a straight head on, he can’t. He craves you, dreams of you, fucks his hand to the memory of you coming for him, spilling his seed over and over again in the shower at the remembered look in your eyes and the sounds you made for him. He can’t help himself. 

Outside of that, everything else in his life is bleak and slow and… and he doesn’t know what else to call it, except for sad and wanting. Lonely. To have touched something so alive, so beautiful and sweet and perfect, and then be forced to return to the barren landscape that is his life in everything outside of his daughter, it’s jarringly difficult to do. He wants to be strong, to do what you asked of him, but it had been so long since he’d really wanted something for himself. Couldn’t remember what the last thing had been, really, and so to now have something to desire, something to want and think of, it makes him weak and fills his head with all kinds of excuses to see you, to call you – he’d forced Tommy to steal your number for him out of Gerri’s phone – to go to your work and wait for you to come out, just so he can catch a single glimpse of you.

He restrains himself from that, though. He forces himself to focus his mind on other things, Sarah and school and playdates, and he works himself like a dog, taking on more contracts than he ever has before. He doesn’t give himself any time to rest, any time to think, and in the few moments that he does, when he stares at your number on the screen of his phone, imagining what it is he’d say to you if he called, if you answered, what the sound of your voice would be like saying hello to him, saying his name, or in the moments when he fucks himself raw and spent and sad, those are the moments when he feels weakest, when he feels most alone, when he’s almost overwhelmed with wanting. 

-

He only lasts a measly three weeks after the lake house before he’s outside of the elementary school, one late Wednesday afternoon during the second week of the new school year. The sky is dark and angry, on the verge of a downpour, and he’s been waiting, agitated and anxious, for about half an hour, before you finally come out the double doors. 

The lightest sprinkling of rain is starting up, and he jumps out of his truck’s cab, jacket in hand, to approach you. He says your name softly as he comes up on your side while you’re distracted, digging in your purse for something.

You jump slightly at the sound of his voice and turn your wide, worried eyes on him, “Joel–” your voice, soft and breathy, so sweet, “Is everything okay? What are you doing here? Is Sarah okay?”

He holds his hands up in what he hopes is an appeasing, non-threatening gesture, he doesn’t want you nervous. Fucking Christ, asking for Sarah with that look of worry in your eyes, “Everything’s fine, sweetheart,” how in the fuck is he supposed to not be obsessed with you? “I was just – I was just hoping we could talk, is all.”

You look around at the sparsely filled parking lot, as if searching for witnesses, or perhaps, an escape, but then you turn back to him and pause to take him in. He watches the sweep of your eyes down his body, and then back up, stopping to search for something in his eyes. Whatever you find there must give you the answer you need because you nod your head once, “Alright, we can talk,” you say softly.

“My truck? Can we drive for a bit? I’ll bring you back.” You nod again, and he drapes his jacket over your shoulders to protect you from the drizzle as he leads you to his truck. “S’bout to come down hard,” he murmurs as he opens the passenger door for you, taking your wrist in his hold to help you up into the truck. He can’t help himself, he reaches for your seatbelt and buckles you in himself – is filled with an obscenely embarrassing fizz of pleasure at the gesture of it. 

You’re looking at him with the most concerned little frown marring the soft spot between your delicate brows, “Are you okay?” your voice slow and unsure, and then more of him being unable to help himself, to keep his hands to himself, because he reaches up and gently brushes his thumb over the little frowning wrinkle, nods his head once. 

“I’m okay, baby.”

He drives for a bit, takes you to a spot up in the hills he likes to come to sometimes when he needs to think. Somewhere the two of you can be alone and quiet, just for a moment. He parks the truck by a copse of trees, a view of Austin on the other side of the two of you. The rain has turned into a violent downpour by now. He shuts off the engine and looks out at the view of the city. 

-

“I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t bother you – you asked me to stay away, but –” He lets his head fall back against the headrest and sighs, and the sound of it is so weary, pained in a way that’s so very, very sad. It makes you hurt for him. You reach across the center console to grip his bicep, you can’t help yourself. You could see from the first look at his face that something was wrong. You know he wouldn’t have come to look for you if he didn’t need you now. 

“You’re not bothering me. I know I shouldn’t, but I wanted to see you too.” You only confess this because of the look in his eyes. The glassy, burdened look of them. You wish that you could climb into his lap and wrap your arms around his neck, press your warmth into him. The rain hits the windshield like bullets, the sound deafening. The world outside of his truck’s cabin seems distorted, as if this liminal space the two of you sit in now, has been carved out of the rest of the real world, and the two of you exist here now, only, together. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’,” he wraps his hand over yours on his arm, drags his thumb over the smooth little hills of your knuckles. His gaze out the window is so far away, lost, something almost childlike in its desolation. You watch the strong ripple of his neck as he swallows, clears his throat. “Nothing – just wanted to see you. ‘Dunno… Felt so tired today.” He closes his eyes for a moment, “Couldn’t stop myself. Wanted to just give myself this one thing.” He lets his head roll against the seat to look at you, gives you the gentle curve of his crooked smile. So beautiful and so sad, and you can tell that something is endlessly wrong. You feel afraid, for one moment, that he’s going to start crying, the sadness in his eyes is so overwhelming. You don’t think you’ll be able to stand the sight of his tears, you think they might break you. “Just wanted to look at you, to sit here with you, just for a little bit.”

“Alright.” You’re quiet for a beat, watching him watch the rain. Part of you wants to give him space, give him quiet, but you need to know what’s wrong. You can’t bear the look in his eyes right now. “Did something happen?”

He’s silent, as if gathering his thoughts or his strength around him, and then: “Eva had a pregnancy scare this week.” A jagged shiver slices through you.

“What?” You croak, you try to pull your hand back, but he clamps down on your bones, holds you to him. “But I thought–”

He shakes his head, “Not mine.”

“Joel… what? Are– are you–” You blink furiously, at a loss. What do you say to the man who you’re kind of having an affair with when he tells you his wife, who is also seemingly having an affair, might be pregnant with another man’s child? This is all so, so fucked up. So ugly. You swallow, turn to look out at the rain. You don’t want to cry, but you can’t seem to help the tears from pooling. A bombardment of recurring images from your childhood slingshotting through your mind; your mother, leaving, angry, cold, quiet. Always pushing you away. The sound of her crying through her bedroom door, your child’s ear, pressed to the cool grain, trying to get as close to her as possible even though she doesn’t want you. Always shutting you out. Your father, dead to the world on the sofa in the living room, drowning in his liquor and yearning and hurt. The sight of a tall, handsome stranger, coming up the front walk to ring the doorbell, to take your mother away with him. The way he’d crouched down from his great height to ask you what your name was because she hadn’t even bothered to tell the man she was having an affair with, the man she was leaving you for, what your name was. 

What is it about being unlovable, you wonder, and why is it that some are cursed with it so cruelly, while others are not?

“Hey,” Joel tugs on your wrist, pulls you closer to him. “I told you, we’re not like that, we’ve never been. I don’t want you thinkin’ somethin’ else, that I haven’t been honest.” He drags the pad of his thumb over your cheekbone, tips your head back to catch your eyes. You let them flutter shut and swallow, open them again. If you talk you’ll cry, but he needs words from you now. You swallow again, shake your head. 

“It’s– it’s not that. I believe you. And even if it was otherwise, I have no right–”

“Stop. Don’t say that. You know that isn’t true. You have the right to honesty after what I’ve told you, after what we’ve done.” You try to pull back, but he brings his palm to wrap around the back of your neck and grip you by the scruff. “Stop,” he grits, “Don’t pull away from me.” 

You bring your palms up to his chest, clutch at the collar of his shirt. “I’m not. I’m not, I’m sorry. It’s just–” you huff a sharp, bitter laugh, “Sometimes it’s like you’re just telling me the story of my childhood, over and over again. Like you’re living it again for me. This all sounds very pathetically familiar.” A tear finally falls, you can’t help it. A weeper in a long line of weepers, always. 

“Sweetheart…” he brushes the track of your tear away with his thumb.

You shake your head. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Is she?”

“She’s fine. Took her to the doctor this morning.”

“God, Joel– I don’t – I don’t know how you do this.” Another tear. You think of your father, how weak, how broken he was after her. He could have never shouldered the things Joel does. You feel very sad, very sorry, for the both of them, as different as they are. You feel sorry for the whole miserable lot of you, really.

“She needed my help, she was scared–” his thumb sweeps a slow, hypnotizing path up and down the back of your neck. The rough callus on his thumb catches at your sensitive skin and makes you feel hot and sweaty and overwhelmed for the feel of it on every other tender place on your body. “Terrified, really. Of being trapped like that again.”

“Trapped?”

“Sarah was never her plan. Neither of us were. She never wanted any of this.”

“You told me the marriage wasn’t conventional… but I didn’t – I didn’t think Sarah was included in that…” Your stories are too similar, the similarities too painfully familiar.

“We met at a bar, it was–” he looks away, and you watch a hot flush flood his cheeks. He’s embarrassed to tell you this. “It was a one night thing. Her birth control failed, and then – it was just – well, ending the pregnancy was never an option for her, and I told her from the get go that I’d do whatever she wanted, support her in anything she chose. She chose to go on with it. So I asked her to marry me, it made sense, it was– it was the convenient thing. At least, at the time – in my mind, it seemed so. But we – we were strangers, there was no connection. And then… I don’t know. It wasn’t, eventually – it wasn’t the right thing, at all, for any of us. She never wanted to be a mother. She told me once, after, that she’d chosen wrong, she’d made the wrong decision. And I always tried to be supportive, but by that time, well – we had Sarah by that time, and I– I loved her more than anything I’d ever loved in my whole life. Didn’t even know it was possible to love anything that much – and it made me so fucking angry with her – to–  to hear her say something like that, that she should’ve gotten rid of her. It was – I don’t know – a very complicated and painful thing –  for the both of us to grapple with, I guess. But I–” he pauses, takes a deep breath. His eyes shift madly, looking out the window as if the rain will bring with it an explanation or an escape for whatever it is that’s churning inside his mind as he tells you this. “There was never really anything to be angry with, I don’t think. No real reason or focus for my anger. I realized it’s impossible to fault a person for not being what they were never meant to be. She never wanted this. And I hadn’t planned for it, it just happened. And the decisions we made were made, and then things just ended up as they did. Sometimes – I don’t,” he frowns, shaking his head, “I don’t know how to say it, but–” He turns to you now, a wild, pleading look in his eyes, “But how can I say that we made a mistake, without saying that Sarah was a mistake? Because if I’ve ever done a single thing absolutely perfect, in my whole entire life, it’s that little girl. She’s perfect. You know what I mean?”

You nod, swallowing back your tears, “Yes.”

He frowns at you, his eyes filled with infinite tenderness, “Don’t cry, sweetheart.”

“I’m not,” you lie, turning to press the back of your hand to your hot eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s just – it reminds me of myself, of my own mother. She – she was the same, I think. Never meant to be a mother. But not bad. It’s just what it was. And hearing you, hearing this, it makes me so sad for you, for all of you. I’m sorry.” He leans forward, wraps his hand around your jaw to press his brow to your wet cheek and just holds there. The two of you breathe each other in, match the cadence of your breaths to the other. You snake your arms around his broad shoulders to press yourself closer to him. It scares you, this feeling of necessity he forces out of you, like you need him, even this soon, for strength, for comfort, for happiness. You’ve never felt like this before, and it’s coming on so quickly, overwhelming you. You feel like you need him, and if you don’t have him you’ll never be happy for the rest of your life, you’ll never be able to forget him, to let him go. He shifts to nuzzle against your cheek and then your jaw, and then the hot press of his lips to the tender spot behind your ear. A violent tremble moves through you at the feel of his soft mouth against your skin, and you dig your nails harshly into his shoulders. 

“I just– lemme just–” he mumbles against your skin, and then that hand wrapped around your jaw is turning your head and forcing your mouth open so that he’s kissing you, licking into your mouth and everything goes tight and painful and white hot inside of you. “Jesus–” he says against your mouth. He forces your head back to deepen the angle, his other hand coming up to fist painfully in your hair, and you whimper into him. His answering groan is deep and rumbling and so, so wanting. Your heart feels like it’s flipping and squeezing and pinching inside your ribcage. You can hear how much he wants you, this, in the cadence of the sounds he makes. The kiss is wet, sloppy, full of teeth and all the desperation and yearning of these past few weeks. The days and days of not seeing him, of remembering your encounter in that dark room at the lake house, the way he’d made you come against his thigh, the sound of his own orgasm, the inhibition, the flush in his cheeks as he spilled in his jeans for you. The desperate, pathetic nights of your cunt stuffed full of your fingers, so wet and aching and still not enough even though you’d made yourself orgasm multiple times at just the memory of him. You claw at his hair and neck and back, you want to draw blood, imprint yourself on him in some way, the same way he’s imprinted himself on you. He brings the hand in your hair down to your waist to press you closer to him. The center console digs painfully into your ribs and you want to climb over it and settle in his lap, but you know you shouldn’t, that if you end up over there you’ll let him fuck you, and that you’ll never come back from that. Not ever. He drags his hand up to your breast, grips the heavy weight in his large palm and squeezes, and it hurts and it feels so, so fucking good that you rip yourself away from his mouth, push at his broad chest to force him away from you. The both of you stare at each other, wide eyed and panting great, heaving gasps. His hair is sticking up at all angles, messy from your pillaging fingers, his eyes glassy and his cheeks flushed almost feverish. 

Oh, you want him so badly. This will be your undoing. 

“We– we can’t– I didn’t come here with you for– for that,” you gasp, pressing your fingers to your wet mouth.

“I know– I know– shit, we–” He passes a palm over his mouth, and you feel another tear slide down your burning cheek. You’re surprised you don’t see steam rise at the contact. “Fuck – fuck, baby, please. Please, don’t cry. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t mean to make you cry. I got carried away– ”

“I’m not crying– I’m not.” Maybe if you say it enough times it’ll be true. You turn to wipe it away on the hill of your shoulder, try to hide your face.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched you

“I wanted you to. I want it so badly,” you cry, squeezing your eyes shut tight. You feel inconsolable. 

“I know– I know.”

You want him so badly, so badly, so badly, you want him to keep touching you forever. “It hurts, Joel. It hurts–”

“Jesus, what hurts? Tell me.” He leans forward, gripping your knee painfully tight, and you press yourself into the door at your back, “Fuck– is that sweet, little cunt aching for me? Tell me, baby.”

You nod

“Fuck, what if– what if we just – just watch each other? What if you pet your cunt for me, and let me watch? Just– just to make the ache go away? Would that be okay?”

You shake your head, unsure, but your hand is clutching his over your knee now, digging your nails into the top of his palm and letting him slowly push your knee open further. 

His voice is so coaxing. Oh, he shouldn’t use that tone of voice against you, you’re powerless to it. “You can, it’s okay. It’s just to make the ache go away, it’s okay,” and you have no choice but to capitulate, no desire to not give in.

His palm on your knee slides up your thigh, pushing your skirt to bunch at your hips, and he hooks one finger into the side of your panties to pull them down as you lift your hips, allowing him to divest you of them. So easy, you’re so fucking easy, and you don’t even care. All you can focus on right now is the throbbing ache between your legs. 

His eyes don’t leave yours as he says, “Spread your legs… that’s it.” 

“Don’t– don’t look–” you stutter as you bring your shaking fingers to your core, and he’s leaning back to undo his belt and drag his zipper down. You can’t look either, you can’t, if you do, you’ll lose, you know it. You see the peripheral movement of him reaching into his clothes to pull the heft of his cock out, the shift of his upper body as he lifts his hips to readjust his pants to free himself. Your cunt is slick and throbbing, painfully swollen. 

You watch the movement of his shoulder as he starts to jack himself, “Just your clit first, baby. Soft, little circles, yeah… how does that feel?”

“Good– good, yes.” You’re panting, mouth hanging open. There is fire in his gaze, all for you, only for you. 

“Yeah? You need more?”

“Please, Joel–” You don’t know what you’re begging for, but you don’t think it’s for your touch alone. 

“Give yourself one finger, sweetheart. Just one – tell me how wet it is? Are you soaked for me?”

You press one finger inside, and yes, yes, your’re fucking soaked for him, you say. He groans at that, the rhythm of his shoulder gets faster. “I have to look, baby. Please, please, I have to see how wet it is.” The tops of his cheeks are flushed red, but as you watch the downward shift of his eyes to your spread sex, the place where you’re impaling yourself with a single finger, his eyes flare, the flush seems to ricochet even higher, hotter. You pull your finger out to cup yourself, hide yourself, burning with shyness and lust, but fuck, the look in his eyes, it’s bright hot, devouring. No one has ever looked at you like that. Never. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he moans, “Put ‘em back in. Fuck yourself, make yourself come. I have to see it.” So fucking gorgeous, you hear him mutter under his breath, and you finally give yourself permission to look down as you stuff two fingers back into your desperate pussy. Fuck your rules, you have to see him.

He’s huge.

Thick and long, the size of his cock is not made smaller by the massive breadth of his fist holding it in a vice-like grip, jacking it, tight and fast. The head is flushed a deep, angry red, the slit at the top weeping a pearly stream of precum that makes your mouth water and the muscles in your pelvis tighten – you want to taste him, you want him to fuck your mouth until you’re forced to swallow his load. There’s a thick vein running up the entire length of the underside of the shaft that you’re sure you’d feel his pulse in if you set your tongue against it. He’s pulled his heavy balls out over the edge of his jeans too, and he cups them and squeezes. 

“Spread yourself wider for me – yeah like that… Lemme see you stretch that cunt.”Oh, he’s so dirty. 

You’re sucking in quick, shallow gulps of air, on the verge of hyperventilating as you watch his massive palm beat at his cock, almost dizzy with lust, your blood rushing in your head, your pussy sopping wet, tight as a knot. This isn’t enough, you want to stop, you want to go further, you want him to touch you, to climb into his lap, to take that heavy, thick weight inside of you and feel him stretch you to the point of pain. “Don’t look– you shouldn’t look–” you don’t know why you say it, maybe because you feel you have to, but it’s nonsensical when your eyes are glued to him. 

“I have to look, baby. Please, don’t ask me that. I have to see it – fuck, you’re so gorgeous, look at you. Prettiest fucking cunt I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

“Stop,” you moan, arching your back further to crook your fingers inside of yourself, hitching your knees higher to pet at the spongy, tender spot inside you that you’d like him to own. “St– stop– I’m–  m’not your baby– don’t– don’t– oh fuck, I’m gonna come–” your eyes roll to the back of your head at the sound of his choked growl, his eyes glued to your stretched sex, the sounds of your wetness and his slick palm echoing in the truck cabin. 

“You are, you are – even if you won’t let me touch you, won’t let me have you – you fucking belong to me now. Already, even like this – look at you, about to come for me with just my eyes on you.” His hips start to lift into his fist, his hand almost a blur for how fast he’s fucking himself, teeth gritted, tendons in his strong neck popping starkly under the surface of his flushed, sweaty skin. 

“Fuck– fuck, it’s so pretty.”

“Stop– please, Joel, I need–”

“Wanna taste it and fuck it and fill it with my come–”

“Oh my fucking God–” you’re going to come, now, now, it’s right there. You tell him.

“One more finger – lemme see you stretch yourself… yeah like that… my good fucking girl,” grunted as you stuff a third finger inside and start to spasm, mewling high and desperate for him, grinding your clit against the mound of your palm. You want his cock to stretch you like this, and you tell him. The sound he makes at your desperate plea, as if it’s been ripped out of him, painful, desperate, savage. You watch the wide head flush an almost deeper shade, verging on purple now, and he squeezes the base cruelly, his sack fisted tight in his other hand, and he starts to come, a thick white stream of milky spend that makes your mouth water, sliding over his fist and spurting onto his exposed belly. “Oh God, Joel, I want it.” You can’t stop the words, the sight of his orgasm forces them out of you. 

“I know, baby, I know. I want to give it to you,” he says through clenched teeth. 

You both stay frozen like that for a moment as you come down, panting and staring at each other wide eyed and flushed and trembling. That was, perhaps, no, it was without a doubt, the most intense thing you’ve ever experienced with a man, and you’d barely even touched each other. Pain and pleasure coalesce to leave you shaking and sweating, your skin hypersensitive. You’re scared you’re going to start crying again and scare him, give him the wrong idea – that you’d not liked this, that you’d not wanted this. When the truth is that nothing could ever compare to how much you wanted, needed it. How much you’ll want this forever now. You want to take him inside of you. The sheer force of your desire almost has a flavor, a shape to it. The strength of it, so potent, it is almost made sentient – a living thing. 

You pull your wet fingers out, and he snaps forward suddenly, to snatch your hand towards himself and brings the slick digits into his mouth, his tongue laving hot and wet between the spaces, sucking on them. All the while his eyes are zeroed in on the space between your legs, on the place that is still clenching and stretched, so ready and eager for him to fill. You gasp at his ferocity, at the feral look in his eyes because you can see, you can see that almost sentient desire you’re filled with, reflected in his own eyes. 

“Joel–” you whisper as he presses one final kiss to the wet tips of your fingers, his eyes fluttering shut as he holds there for one moment. 

“I know–” he whispers back, and when his eyes come back to yours, there is such a depth of understanding in them. You realize in this moment, in this shared look, that the two of you are the same in an essential way. It isn’t just your desire that connects the two of you now, it’s so much more. A loneliness, a sentimentality, perhaps, a keen sense of familiarity. That vein of shyness, of being closed off, that fear of opening up, of being hurt, of being left. He’s the same, you can see it, feel it. 

You’d never thought you had a very good sense of self identity – your perception of yourself skewed in the image of your mother, of who she was, of her shadow, of the things she’d done, but in this moment, looking into the reflection of Joel’s eyes, you feel you see yourself very clearly, almost securely, for the first time. It is recognition the two of you are sharing now, for some reason, in some way, you recognize him. And you find it ironic, that now, in this moment of all times, when you’re doing the very thing that you’d always been so afraid of, of turning into the thing that you’d always feared because of your mother, it is ironic that you are finally able to cast away her shadow, her image, and see only yourself, so clearly, so wholly, because of him.

And yet, despite the sudden, blinding clarity, oh, it was all so dark, so dark, that it be this man, this unavailable, married, unreachable man, that would make you feel so wholly seen, so understood, so connected. 

Your wrist is left wet and sticky where he’s gripped you with his spend covered fingers, but you’re careful not to wipe it away. You want to be left with the tightness of his dried come over your skin. 

“Don’t say that we shouldn’t have done that,” he tells you.

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Good.”

“I was going to say that I wish we could do it again – that I wish we could do more.”

“Shit–” he whispers, passes his dry palm over his mouth and then up into his hair, to tug at the messy curls. You move to right your clothes, and he follows your lead, tucking himself back into his jeans. “Me too.”

You let your head rest back against the window as the two of you stare at each other in silence for a moment. It’s comforting, filled with companionship, understanding, the intimacy of the moment the two of you just shared. Your cheeks feel hot and you can’t help but smile at him, just a little, a small laugh escaping, and then he’s returning it, smiling and laughing softly too, until the both of you are wracked with the most ridiculous, schoolyard giggles, like two blushing teenagers. It’s a wonderful moment for the purity of it, the two of you together, laughing. Later, you’re sure it will make you very sad and desperate to relive it, but now, oh, now, it really does feel so wonderful. You wish the two of you could live here forever, together in this moment, in the warm, intimate space of his truck’s cabin.

You talk for hours after that, about nothing and everything. His work and yours, your art, his love of building things, of taking care of things, music and movies and books and Sarah. Always, Sarah. 

“She has an obsession with bats right now, weird kid, and there’s a sanctuary up town. We spent a few hours there on Saturday, she loved it. Scampering around in this Snow White princess dress she’s refused to take off for the past three weeks. Won’t part with the damn thing, not even to let me wash it.”

He loves her so much, and it makes your heart pinch and your eyes go hot and weepy. He is, you think, an exceptionally good father, an exceptionally good man. 

Eventually, however, it gets late enough that the two of you realize you need to get home. He drives you back to the school in the most comfortable of silences, your hand intertwined reassuringly in his strong embrace. It feels worryingly natural, right. 

“Will you let me see you again?” he asks when he pulls up next to your lonely car in the school parking lot. 

“I don’t– I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Joel. This will only go further from here if we continue. And I don’t– I can’t be your–” you frown, shaking your head, disgusted at yourself for even having to say the words, “I can’t be your mistress,” you tell him bluntly.

“I would never, never ask that of you.”

“So, then what is it supposed to be? You’re going to leave your wife? That– that isn’t what I want. I don’t want to be the thing that breaks your marriage up, your family, that leaves Sarah in a broken home. I cannot be that.” It would be your worst nightmare come to life. 

He says your name in the most serious tone you think he can muster, as if he can imbue the understanding of his words into your stubborn skull with the resonance of it, “There is no marriage to break up. She’s leaving soon, I know it, I can tell. She’s done. She’s leaving Sarah, and I don’t think she’s coming back this time. I don’t think I can let her just – just come in and out of our daughter’s life like that. Something needs to stop or change. I have to do something to make this better for my girl.”

“I understand that, and I can’t– I can’t tell you how sorry I am to hear that for Sarah. For you. Really, I understand more than I can tell you – but still, when it comes to you and I, or you and her – I can’t … I can’t get into that like this. I– I, I don’t–” you pant, “I don’t know. I’m sorry. But I can’t do that, this. Not now.”

“Baby–”

“No, Joel. You don’t understand – I watched my mother cheat on my father my entire childhood, until she up and left us one day, left him. I watched him love her for years, unreturned, suffer for her, and then I watched him kill himself slowly, drink himself to death until I buried him.”

“That isn’t what Eva and I are–”

“I cannot have an affair with you. I know – I know that’s basically what we’re already fucking doing – I know I’m a hypocrite–”

“You’re not–”

“But I can’t also be the reason you leave your marriage. It would kill me – do you understand?” your voice cracks, you’re shocked you’re not crying right now. “Please, Joel.”

He looks at you for a moment, you’re afraid you can see anger in his eyes, but then they go soft, understanding, and he says, “Yeah… yeah, sweetheart. I understand.” Your eyes flutter shut, and you let out a shaky breath, relieved, but at the same time, filled with a sick twist of disappointment. What would you do if he pressed you, if he forced you? You know part of you would like it. “Can I at least call you? Only sometimes, please. Just to talk – to hear your voice.”

You start to shake your head, but when you open your eyes and take in the pleading look in his gaze, you can’t say no. “Alright, yes… yes, you can call me. That’s okay.”

“Can I kiss you? Just once more?” You lean over the console and press your lips to his, sudden and rough, as an answer, your teeth clicking together harshly. Of course, you want to kiss him again, of course. 

One long, tight moment, you clutch his wrists to keep them from pulling you in closer, and then you’re pulling back, scrambling out of the truck and forcing yourself away from him. You need to get away before you lose all strength of will and just let him do whatever he wants to you. You hear him get out, as well, and follow you around to your driver’s side door, waiting behind you as you dig for your car keys in your bag. You open the door, and then turn back to him, you can’t help yourself, and he lifts a hand to drag his thumb across your cheekbone, along the edge of your jaw. His eyes look so sad, like he’s afraid this’ll be the last time the two of you ever see each other again. The tears are back and angrily demanding release, but you try and take deep breaths through your nose to keep them at bay while your entire frame shakes and shivers at the restraint. He nods once and leans forward to press a long kiss above your brow, and then he turns and walks back to his truck, gets inside. He waits until you’ve gotten in your own car and are driving away, great heaving sobs wracking your body, overwhelming you, before you see him finally turn his truck on and start to drive back home, back to his wife and child.

Chapter .5

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

End Notes: This was kind of a heavy one, if there’s anything you’d like to chat about (or yell at me for all the angsty bullshit) pls come do so :)

[lolishdes]

❝He Loves me not❞ || Diluc x Reader

✧A/N: NOW THIS IS A HEAVY ONE BABES, I wanted to try something different since I mostly write lovey dovey or smutty stuff. This time I wanted to try making something more on the angsty side. Read the warnings first before proceeding !

Oh! Also, this is part of a Diluc Series I'm cooking up 👀, they are all one shots tho, none of them connect to one another. So expect more Diluc stuff from me !

✧Warning/s: Toxic Marriage, Cheating, Argument gone physical, Smut

✧Synopsis: In a modern AU wherein Diluc and you have an arranged marriage  and though at first you don't have high hopes of this union, you still gave it a chance… oh how regretful you are for such a choice.

✧Word Count: 2.9k words

Minors kindly don't interact!

He was never yours to begin with. From the moment you saw the way he looked at her…you knew you had already lost. 

It was your engagement party and you have invited all of your loved ones to celebrate. Both Diluc and you are currently busy attending and chatting with the guests. Everyone kept complimenting you on how much you're practically glowing that night, that it must be good karma considering how good your life has been going so far. And you couldn't agree more, everything seems so right…so perfect. 

Despite how transactional your engagement with Diluc was, this man has somehow crept into your heart. He was quite intimidating at first yet somehow you knew there was a hint of softness in him. His face would hold indifference yet his touch was warm and gentle. And for that you do not regret saying yes to meeting him. 

You excuse yourself from the group of guests and want to see your soon to be husband. You couldn't seem to find him from the sea of people..strange considering that his red hair always makes him stand out. By the corner you see Rosaria and Kaeya enjoying some drinks and snacks while they converse with one another. You approach them to ask Kaeya where his brother could be.

“Hey Kae, have you seen Diluc anywhere? I can't seem to find him?” Kaeya quirks his eyebrow and puts the wine glass down his lips. “I believe he went that way, by the garden. I saw him going there with Jean.” Jean? Who in Celestia was Jean? Probably one of his relatives you thought. You thanked Kaeya and exited the banquet hall. 

The garden was a little wide but it was easy enough to find your way. You ended up a little deeper into the garden and started hearing faint voices, one of which you could recognize. You don't know why, but your gut feeling told you to keep your mouth shut and approach them quietly. As you approached nearer you peaked at the two people that were hiding behind some grass walls. 

Your heart sank at the sight.

Diluc had one of his arms wrapped around the woman's waist and his other hand found itself on her cheek, tenderly caressing her. His eyes…it's as if he was worshiping the very ground she walked in. And the woman…Jean, looked back at him with the same affections as she smiled at him warmly.

You retreat back to hiding behind the grass walls, yet not leaving just yet. “You're here.” Diluc spoke gently, a hint of joy in his tone. Jean gave a gentle laugh. “Yes I am, in the flesh. and I intend to stay here a little longer.” Although you cannot see what they are doing, you are most definitely sure they just share a kiss after that. Your whole body starts to shake and your eyes are getting blurry from the tears that are threatening to fall down. In that moment you can't seem to speak nor move, you felt powerless, alone and…vulnerable. 

You felt betrayed and yet did nothing about it…months later you were then wed. 

…He didn't even call your name during the wedding night. You know damn well that as he was thrusting himself inside you and kissing you passionately on the lips it wasn't you on his mind…it was her. Those sweet pet names he was giving you? That's all for her. And still you pretended as if you knew nothing of his crimes. As you both reached your climax tears were falling down your eyes. But these weren't because of pure bliss, but it was due to your husband calling out another woman's name silently under his breath while still burried inside you. 

“Oh Jean..”

–––––––––

Fixing yourself in front of your vanity, you applied some gloss on your lips before giving it a pop to really apply the product evenly. You were almost completely dressed up for the party and were satisfied with how you looked in front of the mirror. You gave a satisfied nod to yourself before grabbing the clutch on your bed and heading to the door.

You grabbed your pair of black heels that were inside the shoe cabinet and  bent a bit to wear them ,behind you you could hear footsteps. “And where do you think you're going at this time and hour?” You didn't have to turn around to know who spoke.

“Just going to a birthday celebration, remember my friend Yelan? It's her 29th birthday.” “And where is this party located exactly?” You finished buckling the straps on your heels and stood up properly. “Just at her home, we wanted some space for ourselves and she's going to bring out her best alcohol.” You answered every question he had, but your tone sounded as if you didn't have any time for him. That irritated the red head a bit.

You turn around to face your husband, he was still in his work clothes, The sleeves of his button up were folded up and a few buttons were undone, and his red hair was down. His arms were crossed and he had his default resting bitch face. “Will be home by 10pm, don't worry I won't be drinking too much.” really though, It was unnecessary to tell him all this. In the end he doesn't care where you go, who you go with, or even what time you'll arrive home. It's always been that way. 

He stopped loving you the day she entered back into his life.

“I’ll be heading off now, don't overwork.” 

–––––––––

Driving slowly before coming to a full stop as you arrived at Yelans house. Her house was gorgeous, very modern and yet simplistic, just the way she likes it. You parked your car just outside her house and went for the entrance to ring her doorbell. Yelan shouted “Coming!” from a distance before rushing to open the door for you. “Ah here you are, just in time.” She gave you a quick hug before welcoming her to her home.

Thing is, no one was inside the house other than you and Yelan. She just wanted a simple birthday with her best friend, throwing some grand birthday wasn't really her thing to begin with. And you're more than happy to entertain her. “Gods glad you came! And here I thought I would celebrate this precious day all alone.” She jokingly said as we walked to her mini bar. 

You hopped on to a seat as Yelan went behind the counter to make some drinks. “We both know I would definitely be coming today. It's your birthday after all! Besides, there's not much to do in that house anyways. As much as possible I’d like to get out when given the opportunity.” You rested your cheek on your palm.

Yelan gives a worried look before sighing. “Is he still hooked on…her?” She pushes a drink towards me. I scoffed and took a sip. “Yeah, he is.” Yelan rolled her eyes at that before leaving the counter and sitting beside you. “He left a few weeks ago, saying it was for business purposes…But after his trip I cleaned his bag for his laundry and found some dirty panties in one of the pockets. And obviously this isn't some souvenir he got in some stall.” You took a swing of your drink and finished the whole glass. Yelan sees this and a concerned look is on her face. You wiped any excess alcohol on the corner of your lips and continued.

“The bastard is getting sloppy.” A grim look was on your face as you're telling Yelan all this. Yelan looks at you, dead serious in the eyes. “Y/N, we both know you deserve better than this.” You look at your best friend with somber eyes. "I know, but I just—" "Ah ah stop talking for a moment." Yelan interrupts.

"I know you love him...but don't you think perhaps it's time to face the fact that Diluc doesn't love you? Because if he did, the moment he saw that woman at your engagement party he would be running straight at you, showing to everyone and to her especially that he was already spoken for."

You grip on the glass tighter. Perhaps it's not love that's keeping you in this marriage. Sure you used to love him...but all that love went down the drain the night of your honeymoon. Maybe it's guilt, guilt at the very fact that you allowed for things to get this bad. That when you had the opportunity to stop this torture sooner— you just didn't.

And now that you're married to him, you thought that you might as well finish what you've started...even though it hurts.

“...Thanks Yelan, you're really helping me through this." You gave her a quick hug. "Well anyways enough about my fucked up life, lets talk about you, yeah?” Yelan wiggled her index finger in front of you. “Oh no no no don't you dare change the subject. I'm all ears right now.” 

“What? No! It's your birthday for celestia's sake, I'm not spending your precious day complaining about my marriage!” Yelan places her hand on top of yours. “My dear, I love nothing more than shit talking, so…” She grabs her drink and raises it in front of me. 

“Drink up.”

–––––––––

Time seems to be flying fast as you hadn't realized it was already late at night. Not only that but you drank way past your limit, it would be dangerous to be out and about on the road, so Yelan insisted you'd stay for the night. Not having much of a choice you flopped on the bed and immediately dozed off to sleep.  By the time you woke up it was already 8 in the morning, you groaned as you stretched and sat up from the bed, rays of sunlight finding their way past the curtains. 

You feel the hangover settle in, fortunately it's not that unbearable. You walked down the stairs and to the kitchen there you found breakfast was already made for you and a sticky note just near it. 

‘Gonna go out for a run! Here's some breakfast and a pain reliever, if it's really unbearable don't hesitate to stay a little longer ;D’

- Yelan 

You chuckled reading this before eating the breakfast infront of you. After doing so you freshened up a bit in the bathroom and cleaned up the room you just stayed in. You don't want to be inconsiderate and leave any traces of mess, especially since you're just a guest. After doing everything necessary you locked the door behind you and went to your car. You just remembered you promised Diluc that you'd be home by 10…Ah whatever, he doesn't give a damn anyways. You're even sure that by now he's still rested nicely in his bed. 

While on the road you reflect back to what Yelan said...she's right. That night could have been different, instead of heading back home earlier to cry myself to sleep, I could've celebrated my engagement party to the fullest. Nothing but smiles and joy, with Diluc beside me...proud to be called husband and wife soon...

But that's all a fairy tail. Such delusions are far from the truth and as you reach closer to home you know exactly what you have to do.

Driving back home there wasn't any traffic on sight. Though, considering that it's a Sunday morning, most people are still in their beds resting. 

After parking your car inside the garage you made your way inside your home. You threw your clutch on the couch and made your way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. But waiting there was your husband as he was eyeing you dangerously. “What happened to being at home at 10?” He takes a sip of his coffee and looks straight at you.

You're in disbelief at his attitude, why should he even give a damn about where you've been. You divert your eyes to one of the cabinets to get a glass. “Yeah about that, I got a little too carried away with the drinks. I couldn't drive properly so I stayed there at Yelans for the night.” You poured yourself a glass of water while still avoiding eye contact. Diluc doesn't seem to like this. “Can you please look at me while talking?” 

You let out a frustrated inhale and just finished your glass of water to just leave, this morning you seem to have little to no patience for Diluc. You start to walk off but Diluc gets up from his chair and follows behind you. “Hey what's going on? Talk to me!” You continue to walk up the stairs ignoring your husband. He grabs your arm and stops you before you could enter the bedroom. “What the hell is your problem? Why aren't you answering me–!” “YOU ARE THE DAMN PROBLEM ‘LUC!”

You finally blew up. After months, even years of holding it in, you finally blew up on his face. You rip your arm off from his grip. “Don't you dare pretend you don't know. Because I know we both fucking know what’s wrong.” Only the sound of heavy breathing can be heard, both of you stood there silently as you spoke in almost a whisper. 

“I can't do this anymore, Luc. It fucking hurts and I can’t stand seeing your selfish lying face–!” “Then why?” Diluc interjects, he looks at you coldly. “Then why did you stay? Why didn't you say anything? If it hurts so fucking much then why did you let all of this happen–!” “Dont you fucking DARE make me the villain here, Ragnvindr!” 

You point a finger towards Diluc, there was no more holding back at this point. “I have foolishly led myself to believe that I might even have a sliver of chance in your heart, but it's clear now that you're only thinking about that whore of a woman!”

“DON’T YOU DARE CALL HER THAT” “WELL AM I FUCKING WRONG? THAT'S WHAT SHE IS IN OUR MARRIAGE, RIGHT? JUST SOME DIRTY SECRET YOU HIDE.” Diluc’s hand suddenly wraps around your throat, pinning you to the wall. His grip is merciless while his eyes only bore rage. He wants to be fucking angry well two can play that game.

“Ohh what's wrong? I thought we were talking this out. Did I hit a nerve?~” You were mocking him, an almost maniac smile was on your face as you're laughing at him. His attempts to shield his woman were ridiculous, he's going so low to the point of physically hurting you. Both of your eyes never left one another, as if challenging the other to look away, but neither of you faltered.

Your grin at him, enjoying the very fact that this time the roles were reversed, this time he was the one who was agitated. 

"I'm done playing pretend, so why don't you do the same." Despite how hard it was to speak, you still had some bite in you.

A vein could practically pop from Dilucs head from how angry he is, he looks at you with pure hatred– as if you are the most vile thing he has ever seen. He inches closer at you, doing his best to intimidate you more. Both of you could practically feel each other's breath– it’s hot and heavy. There were no words being exchanged yet Diluc’s eyes somehow found themselves down to your lips, they were red and plump.

You were about to agitate him a little more when suddenly his lips crashed onto yours harshly. Without thinking you accepted the kiss, his hand was still on your throat but you wouldn't have his hand in any other place. His free hand wandered down to your ass and gave it a firm squeeze, pulling you closer to him. 

–––––––––

Clothes were scattered all over the floor, hands were wandering and groping everywhere. There were no signs of stopping or slowing down. At one point you found yourself on top of Diluc, straddling him and taking control instead. “Nice view, is this what she saw 2 weeks ago, hm?” You mock him, his hands are then on your hips as he forces you to push yourself deeper into him. “Shut your mouth and just keep moving.” You only go faster and deeper, Diluc groans beneath you.

While riding him you're playing with yourself to help you reach your climax faster. Diluc watches the view before him, and as much as he wants to deny it but you look fucking hot right now. All angry yet horny at the same time. 

You comb some hair out of your face and look down at Diluc, you can see that he's close, but so were you. As you quicken your pace  you grab a hold of his face and force him to look at you “When you fucking cum I want you to scream my name, for once in your damn life call out the name of the woman that made you feel good.”

Diluc scoffs at this, “In your fucking dreams.” You hum in disappointment and slow down your pace. “If you don't, then I'm leaving you here with your cock still hard.” The red head groaned at this and grips on his hips a little tighter. “Fuck– fine fine!” You smile down at him. “That's better~” Quickening your pace, both of you continue to moan and pant out in pleasure, removing every single edge and hatred from 2 hours ago. 

“Oh god I’m close!” Your thrusts are getting sloppier by the second, desperate for that release. On the other hand Diluc is panting beneath you as he looks at how you're taking him in so well. “Y/N I’m close too– Shit!” You grip onto his bare shoulders as you're about to cum. “Oh god I’m coming !” Shutting your eyes as you release, Diluc gives a strong thrust upwards as he releases his load inside of you. 

–––––––––

It was already 3 in the morning as you got up from the bed. Diluc was still fast asleep, but this was the perfect moment to start packing up your necessary things and head out to the door. You’ll file for a divorce later, but for now… 

You look down at the red head as he is sleeping peacefully. You remove the ring off your finger, the ring that felt so heavy and ingrained into your skin. You can finally lift that weight. 

You head to the bathroom and get ready to leave. 

Alternative Ending

©All content belongs to lolishdes 2022. Please refrain from reposting (reblogs are appreciated !).

[izgnanik-a]

CoD ABC's

NSFW 18+ x Reader Edition - Minors DNI!

Masterlist here

I - Intercrural Sex (König x Pregnant!Reader)

Tags: pregnancy, German pet names, vaginal fingering, mutual orgasm, body dysmorphia mentioned

Not beta-read, we die like men 🤷🏽

Prompt: Though sex is good to help induce labor, you don't want to risk hurting the baby. König, father of your child, however, has been horny since he woke up and jerking himself off isn't cutting it anymore. So, he begs to fuck you safely.

König's grunts sounded in unison with his thrusts, helplessly writhing as he fucked his cock between your thighs. "Engel." He whimpered, his chest pressing into your back.

You'd woken up beside a very horny and very insatiable König. His fists were already wound tight in the sheets, his cock erect in his sleeping shorts, - and you weren't in the mood to be woo'd. You were eight months pregnant with his child, and despite morning sickness already passed, you felt hot and bothered all on your own.

König was understanding, just resorting to rubbing himself dry with his mouth trailing kisses all along your chest and neck.

The second time you'd noticed his erection is when you'd been at the stove, making a new craving for yourself, and König was propped on his elbow - just watching. When you'd been newlyweds and freshly moved in together, it was a dangerous ground, you in any domestic chore. He adored you with every simple task you did, but especially even now with his child in your round belly.

He was so proud of himself; but celebrated you entirely for the next four months, making it possible for him to be a father.

But then, in the kitchen, his cock pressed up against his jeans, you knew you couldn't escape it. He waited until you were done eating to ask if you could sit over him while he stroked his cock, just be near him.

You gave him a deal he couldn't deny; he could use you however he pleased, just: A) Don't hurt the baby and B) Leave you alone for just two more hours without having to deal with his incessant hard cock.

So, here you were, your shoulders pushed into the back of the couch cushions, fingers hooked over the edge, and König driving his cock between your thighs. He kept his chest to your back, kissing through your hair, and cradling your belly in his hands carefully.

He moaned, quickening his thrusting pace, his precum dribbling along your thighs. "Engel." He whimpered.

"Yes, König?" You turned to look over your shoulder to him.

He kissed your cheek. "Squeeze me tighter. Please Engel." He mumbled into your ear, "Please."

You reached down with one hand, feeling the slick of his precum along your thighs, and his cockhead peeking through with each thrust.

König's hips shuttered the moment your fingers grazed his cockhead, he braced one hand on the back of the couch, the other kept firm under your belly. "So gut." He whined, reaching low to meet your hand at his head, "Meine Engel." His fingers grazed your swollen pussy, dipping between and running over your clit as he stroked from your wet hole to the hood.

You cooed; though exhausted from your husband's constant boner, it didn't take away from the fact that your husband thought you looked fucking hot while pregnant. That when he looked at you, he was hot and bothered with the thought of you being a spout of fertility, a place he could plant his seed and watch grow. Even through all your pregnancy mood swings and body dysmorphia from supporting a literal living being inside of you - he still loved you.

On instinct, you spread your legs, König's cock released from your thigh's tight grip, but it didn't seem like he noticed as he continued thrusting. His cockhead caught against the hood of your pussy, rubbing against your wet cunt.

He pulled you against him, instead of the couch, and continued thrusting against your cunt as he rubbed your clit.

You rocked your hips down, your head rolled back against his chest. "König-" You moaned, holding your belly in one hand, and his arm in the other.

"So schön. Und alles meins." He said into your cheek as his kissed your jaw. His hips staggered but he refused to let off in pleasuring you. "Cum for me, Engel." He gasped, holding the underside of his cock against your pussy as he rocked back and forth.

You shut your eyes, clenching your jaw tightly as your orgasm took hold of you. You shivered against König's chest as waves shook your body. König gently pressed you forward against the back of the couch again.

He wrapped his hand around his cock, jerking into his hand and gave a stifled grunt and whimper as he came. He painted the curve of your lower back and ass white with his spatter, and gave sighs of relief when he pressed his cheek to your neck.

His hand never left your belly.

You looked over your shoulder to him, and nudged him with your elbow. "My knees better not hurt from kneeling like this."

König giggled, rubbing the back of your thighs softly. "I'm sorry, Engel. If they hurt tonight, I'll give you a nice bath and massage."

You hummed incredulously, "That's how we got into this mess."

And again, he laughed, kissing the back of your head.

4/10/23

[that-one-random-writer]

Rowdy Romance

Masterlist | A Southern Jake Series Here

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x (Southern!F)Reader

Part 2

Summary: You are visiting with a friend and find yourself alone in the Hard Deck. You're both what he was expecting and not.

Warnings: Cursing, flirting, mentions of shotgun, bull riding, and one hunting reference to killing and preparing a deer. Word count: 1,291

The Hard Deck was full. The sun had dipped down below the water line. Your vacation had slowed down. Your friend had made plans with her husband. She was visiting while her husband was stateside.

He had been on deployment for the last year. You had come with her for moral support when you both would have to leave without him.

You found yourself at the beach during the day and spending your nights out sight seeing alone. You can't blame her for spending all her time with her husband.

The couple had just a few more months until he would be back home before being restationed. You weren't excited because she would be moving back out to wherever he was stationed, but at the same time you are excited for her.

You found yourself at the bar that all the locals raved about. Each store owner, that you had spoke to that day, all said that Friday nights were spent at the hard deck. You were at the bar sitting in one of the bar stools. A few locals, and khaki uniformed men had offered you a drink.

There was no interest. Daddy had always said "if he can't skin a deer then how is he gonna feed you when the government crumbles?" Old Southerners still remember the great depression and hold the doomsday prepping dear to their hearts.

You had noticed the sign and kept your phone off the bar. It laid in your back pocket of your dazzled jeans. They had rhinestones in the shape of bull heads. You had an old, tight wife beater top on that cropped a little above your belly button. You looked very out of place in San Diego. You caught a few eyes for that very reason.

The next pair to land on you leaned his arm against the wood beam. "You're from my neck of the woods. Miss, How'd you find yourself up here in California?" His drawl thick.

Your eyes caught sight of the mystery man looking up slowly. His khaki uniform definitely added a nice touch to the voice he carried. "I'm here for a friend of mine." You didn't go into too much detail.

"Well I'll have to thank your friend for sending an angel my way. Can I buy you a round as a welcome to California?" You smiled softly. "Jack on the rock." He smirked. "Your daddy must carry a shot gun wherever he goes for an order like that." He chuckled. "Yes sir, it's on the rack in his truck, or in his hands."

"Penny, can I get two jack on the rocks please?" She smiled. "Sure thing, hangman" your lips curl up. "Hangman... is that what your called round here" His classic smirk finds it's way toward you. "Yes ma'am. That's my call sign."

A small giggle erupts. "I'm not even gonna ask." His smirk still showing. "It's better that you dont." You break the touch barrier slapping his arm softly. "Honey don't say that. You'll make me want to know." Your Laughs strike between your words.

He grabs the two glasses from Penny. "Thank you, Miss Penny." You call out as she goes to the next customer. She smiles and waves as a you're welcome. "Come on, we're gonna go out by the beach." You follow him.

"I told you not to bet him dumbass." Pheonix chuckled at coyote. "Rooster had spent five minutes trying to serenade her, and the new guy tried buying her a drink too." Pheonix popped up. "Thanks for the piña coloda, FNG" pointing to the Fucking New Guy. Coyote continued. "She had walls up to the roof. There's no way he could have got her in 5 minutes flat."

Pheonix laughed resting her chin on her knuckles. "He just did." She scrunched her nose up. "He is an asshole but he is good at picking up women." She flicked a straw wrapper at Rooster chuckling at him. They all began playing pool, and the guys keeping a check on hangman judging his game, making bets on if you would end up going home with him by the end of the night.

Your eyes followed the shoreline, meeting up to the stars. Lights lined the edge of the patio. You stood at the rail leaning in to smell the saltwater, and hear the waves crashing. "Your Jack." He handed your drink to you. "So you know my name, what's yours?" You took a sip of your drink, and tell him your name. "But you can call me, Minnie. That's what they call me back home." You smile brightly.

"Where does that come from?" He leaned against the rail next to you. "Oh no no, if you want to know mine then you have to tell me yours, hangman." Eyebrow arched searching his eyes for a back story. He chuckled and flashed a genuine smile. "Well, I'm a pilot and we get call signs. They call me Hangman, but the 'a's are blank so you can fill them how you like. Thats how I got it." He looked down finishing the innuendo. You laugh wickedly.

"Hungman, How many California girls has that really worked on? How did you actually get that name?" His head shook, chuckling. "Okay, okay, my friends say I hang them out to dry in the sky. They are exaggerating, they're fine. I got their backs. What about you, Minnie?" He looks out to the ocean then back to your eyes.

"My family owns a farms in Texas. When I was about three, I walked around the farm in nothing but a diaper and Minnie hat. They called me 'Minnie', and it stuck." You giggled at the memories of the picture with chickens crowding around you with your Minnie hat on. "Texas? You around the Rusk area?" You nodded. "We're out in Lufkin."

"No way, my family has a pretty big cattle ranch out in Rusk. Small world." Your eyes widen. "The Seresin cattle ranch?" He almost spits out the sip he had just taken. "Umm," he chuckled through the next few words. "Yeah, that's it." He met your eyes again. "My family moved their farm to Lufkin about six years ago, we go to the rodeos and see your family there every year. I've been bucked off jóse a few times. We have had dinner over at their house. They mentioned they had a son in the navy. I'm guessing your Jake..." You trail your words.

"That's me." He chuckles, thinking about you riding on Jóse the bull. "Your momma is so proud of you. Your daddy is too." You smile thinking about how much his momma had to say about her baby jake. "She never got around to show me a picture, but she was very adamant that you are handsome and single." You took your stare back to the water to keep the burn of the cheeks down. "One of them is right.. " You trailed.

He placed a hand at the small of your back leaning against the rail with his other arm. Your bare skin tingling where his hand was. "Both of them are." He smirked while glancing down your curves. "I'm guessing these California girls ain't amounting to what you thought they'd be." He spoke slowly while playing with the hem of your shirt. "No ma'am, they are not." Your eyes met his, and you rounded into his arms and placed your hand on his shoulder.

He leaned up, allowing him to pull you closer to him, his arms wrapped around you. Your southern drawl thickened. "Well, I guess you better find yourself a cowgirl." Your Eyebrow raised, and a smirk crossed your lips. "I think I found one."

No permissions to share the story as your own. Do not repost to any site. Don't steal from aspiring authors that makes you a 'C U Next Tuesday'!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Only Yesterday 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, voyeurism, intimidation, isolation, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Isolated and lonely in your life as your grandmother’s caretaker, you find yourself living vicariously through your neighbour.

Character: Nick Fowler

Note: A special thank you for those who waited on this. I was like tripping myself out about this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like a love song, baby. Take care. 💖

You put a coaster down before you set down the glass of water. The apartment door is propped open, letting in the stuffy air from the hallway as Nick carries in his tools. While you still don’t believe him, he’s committed a lot to keeping up his ploy. He is actually going to clean the windows and for that you won’t complain.

“Dearie?” Your grandmother calls from her bedroom as Nick nears you.

You go to brush by but he fills the space with his body. You recoil and step back, folding your arms under your chest. “Excuse me.”

“I figure clean windows are in high demand,” he muses as he bends his knees to put down the bucket and the heavy bag. He stands, an intimidating figure that has you wanting to cower in his shadow, “easier to see… won’t have to go out on the balcony.”

“Please,” you breathe.

“Did you enjoy the show?”

“Stop. It was a mistake. A bad judgment–”

“How long were you out there, hm? How much did you see?”

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean to. I should’ve gone inside sooner. I’m sorry.”

He chuckles and it only stirs your frustration.

“I know you're not who you say you are but you don’t have to do this. I’m very sorry.”

He hooks his thumbs in the loops on his jeans and leans in, “did you like what you saw?”

“What?”

“Come on, admit it. It’s lonely here with just the old lady, isn’t it?”

As if on cue, your grandmother calls for you again. “One second, nan,” you call back and try to move past Nick.

“Wait,” he grabs your arm, “I didn’t get to the most important question.”

“Let go,” you hiss as you try to shrug him off.

“Should I fuck you on the balcony too? Or do you think someone will see us?”

You scoff and shove him away. You let out a noise of disgust and elbow past him. You rush down the hall, wiping the sweat from the back of your neck. He’s just taunting. He’s not serious. He just wants to see you suffer, then you’re sure he’ll leave you alone.

You enter your grandmother’s room. She’s on her bed looking gaunt. She has a dress sprawled out beside her as she tries to catch her breath.

“Dear, won’t you help me get dressed? We do have company and all.”

“Yes, nan,” you go forward and pick up the dress. It’s a violet piece with roses patterned across it and a lacy collar.

“Did you get that man a drink?”

“Of course, nan.”

“Of course?” She blusters, “she says as if she hasn’t forgotten her manners.”

“I’m sorry, nan, I was just surprised by the man, that’s all.”

“You must be nicer,” she girds you as you unbutton the back of the dress, “you’ll never catch a husband the way you are.”

You sigh but don’t respond. You’ve had this conversation before. Not just with her, your parents are particularly fond of the topic. You won’t repeat yourself again and again.

“Put your arms up,” you move in front of her, “let’s get this on.”

She does as you say and you get one sleeve on then the other, pulling the collar past her head. You’re not very worried about her marital concerns, you’re much more bothered by the man you can hear in the front room. 

🪟

Nick wipes the sweat from his forehead with the back of his head. You can see it dampening the fabric of his ill-fitting shirt and beads of it in his dark hair. He retracts the long squeegee and squeezes out the excess water.

“All done,” he declares, “I’ll just dump this and pack up–”

“Oh, it looks wonderful,” your nan preens, fixing her glasses, “I can see the birds now.”

You don’t say anything. Her intonation is clear. The windows were dirty before, neglected. You stare at the wall, refusing to speak to either of them.

“Thanks, ma’am,” Nick says as he uses his arms to wipe away more sweat, “last call of the day, think I got the hang of it.”

“Ah, yes, what is the time?” Nan searches until her eyes focus on the hanging cuckoo clock, “why, dearie, it’s been such a long day, I’m sure you’re starving from all that hard work. Why don’t you stay for supper?”

“Nan,” you hiss, stunned by her invitation. Ever since her episode, she’s been less than fond of other people.

“It would be rude to let the man go with an empty stomach,” she insists, “in my day, we wouldn’t dare–”

“I couldn’t impose,” Nick says gallantly.

“Impose?” Your grandmother waves her hand at him, “I couldn’t send you off without showing our gratitude. Oh my, look at you, sir,” she leans forward and blinks through her lenses, “honey, why don’t you fetch him one of your grandfather’s shirts?”

You look at Nick. He’s playing up the flattery. How could you do this? How could you have drawn this man into your grandmother’s home?

“Really, that’s so generous…” he begins.

“Now, sir, I must insist,” she says, “were my mother still alive, she’d be appalled to think I wouldn’t even offer you a meal. Even during the depression, she’d offer the farmhand a plate at the table.”

He smiles and you glance at Nan. Her mind is set. For the first time in a long time, she is putting her foot down. It’s a glimmer of the old matriarch that once held it all together. You resign yourself with a repressed sigh and as you stand, surrendering, Nick’s cheek dimples in victory.

You go down the hall and into your grandmother’s room. Hung in her closet are several of your grandfather’s old shirts. She refused to let them go, they made it past the culling of her life’s collection. You take out a short-sleeve button up in a brown and yellow plaid. It will look ridiculous on him.

You go back to the front room as Nick puts the empty bucket by the door and moves his bag beside it. He stretches as he stands at the end of the entryway, causing you to graze against him as you pass. You can smell his sweat and the tinge of his cologne.

“Here,” you push the shirt against his chest gruffly, checking that Nan isn’t looking.

“You mind if I wash up a bit?” He slithers as he grabs your hand around the shirt.

“Of course, dear,” Nan chimes back, “honey, why don’t you check the pantry?”

She reaches for her walker as Nick clings to you. You stare him down as he squeezes with all his strength. You gulp. He is terrifyingly strong. The tip of his tongue points out as he lets out a deep exhale. Finally, you rip away from him.

“Nan, be careful,” you spin and rush to her as she tries to stand. “I can take care of dinner.”

“Don’t baby me,” she grips her walker, “I can manage to put water in a pot.”

“I’m not, Nan…”

“I’ll let you ladies figure it out,” Nick excuses himself with a coy lilt and you listen to his footfalls trail down the hall.

You huff and help Nan steady herself. You follow her to the kitchen as she clacks her walker ahead of her. As she goes to the fridge, you stand tenuously in the doorway, glancing back towards the hall. You hear the bathroom faucet squeak and the pipes hum.

“Do you recall how to make chicken croquettes? I showed you when you were a girl, didn’t I?” She leans between her walker and the fridge door, “we’ll need the cream of celery from the pantry–”

“Yes, Nan, I remember,” you sniff and cross your arms, “let me get you a chair.”

“I am just fine,” she takes out the package of chicken and hobbles to place it on the counter. “Why don’t you go put some lipstick on?”

You furrow your brow as she faces you. What?

“Don’t make that face, it’s not very pretty,” she girds.

“Nan,” you reproach, “please–”

“He’s a very handsome fellow,” she trills, “I think he likes you.”

“I don’t wear lipstick.”

“You can use some of mine,” she suggests.

“I’ll grab the cream of celery,” you say.

She clucks and shakes her head. If only she knew. If only you weren’t a coward.

🪟

Nick sits at the table. The brown shirt strains across his broad shoulders and his hair is tidy. You can tell he wetted it and smooth it out from the humid curl that formed during his work. Nan lets you sit her down with him once the chicken is in the oven.

You busy yourself with the sides as the main cooks. Mashed potatoes and some peas. Plain. Nothing special.

You peek in as you hear her talking to him, regalling him with tales of her youth. He humours her well but it lends you little comfort. There’s a sinister tint to every word. He is being nice, but you know well he can be mean.

The oven dings and you portion out three plates. You just want this over with. You want the man gone. 

You bring out two plates, one for your nan, the other for the intruder. You go back to reclaim your own before joining them at the table. It’s unusual. It’s been months since you sat down for a meal like this and with the extra body, you feel even more upended.

“Isn’t this nice?” Nan beams.

“I can get your chicken,” you offer and use your knife and fork to cut up her piece. She lets you but you see the glint of humiliation in her.

“My granddaughter has a degree,” she chimes proudly, “did you know that, sir?”

“I didn’t,” he says.

“She’s very smart. And so helpful. She came to live with me to keep me company,” she continues, “and she’s not very old. Not too old.”

“Nan,” you pull your utensils away and turn to your own plate.

“She’s a bit shy,” she whispers loudly behind her hand.

Nick chuckles as he takes his fork and knife. You poke at the potatoes, drawing lines through the mash with the tines.

“And I see you have no ring,” Nan grins.

“Please–”

“I’m flattered, miss,” Nick smiles, “really, but I’d hate to be too forward. Your granddaughter…” he pauses and looks at you, “is very nice.”

“Isn’t she?” Nan sings.

Your eyes round and you stare at the wall. This isn’t happening. She isn’t trying to set you up with someone. The proudest she’s ever sounded of you and it’s trying to barter you off like cattle.

“Hon,” she looks at you, “why don’t you tell him about your degree? She loves books, you know?”

You cringe and shove your mouth full of potatoes and shrug. Nan’s smile falls and she manages to kick you with her toe. You gulp and make yourself look at Nick. He wears a taunting smirk.

“I did literature,” you say plainly, “nothing very exciting, like most girls, I was an Austen fanatic.”

“Austen…” he mulls it over, “I read Pride and Prejudice in school. Not bad.”

You nod. Really? You can’t imagine him doing that.

“I’m afraid it’s all my fault,” Nan chuckles, “I gave her a few books when she was young and she ran away with it.”

You twirl your fork nervously as Nick’s eyes drift away from you slowly, “can’t blame her. All that romance, bound to draw you in.”

🪟

You clear up after dinner as your grandmother continues to chatter. It’s been ages since she’s been this lively. You would be elated if it was for any other reason than that man.

You pack up the leftovers and rinse off the dishes. As you tidy up the counters, there’s a sudden silence that makes your heart drop. You hear Nan groaning oddly. You rush over to look in on her as she slumps at the table.

Nick stands and hurries over before you can reach her.

“Wait, be careful,” you gird.

He sits her up as she lets out a gasp, “dearie me,” her glasses hang at an angle, “I think I’ve overdone myself.”

“Nan,” you come close, forgetting about the man, not worrying about how close he is, “what happened?”

“Just a dizzy spell,” she assures, “must be my meds.”

“Just– I should call Doctor Harmon.”

“At this hour, don’t be silly,” she chides as Nick holds her up. If he didn’t have a hand on her shoulder, you’re certain she’d be on the floor, “I just need to lay down for the night. Have my tea.”

“Alright,” you acquiesce and drag her walker to her, “come on.”

You elbow Nick away and get your arm around Nan as you turn her in the chair. You lift her and try to get her feet set. Her legs are jelly and you nearly drop her. He quickly swoops in and catches her, scooping her up with almost no effort.

“Here, I’ll help,” he always has her in his arms. She looks even frailer cradled against his chest. “Show me where to take her.”

You stop and look at him. Nan murmurs and rests her head against him. You point him down the hall, “her bedroom is at the end.”

He goes ahead of you and carries her down to her room. You trail him and watch him lower onto the bed with care. You cross your arms as he backs up.

“Nan, I’ll get the tea on and come back to help you into your nightgown,” you promise.

“Such a gentleman,” she taps Nick’s cheek as he pulls away, “you be sure you offer him some dessert.”

You shrug her off and point Nick out of the room. He struts out, eyes boring into you until you draw the door shut behind him. You turn to face him in the cramped space of the hall. You don’t know what to say or do. He needs to leave but you know telling him won’t do much.

“What’s for dessert?” He asks.

[farity]

Obsession, part 10

I open my eyes when Aemond comes back to bed. I turn and smile at him over my shoulder and he slips in next to me, warm and solid against my back.

Once again, we've barely slept, the soreness inside me evidence of that, but when he kisses the back of my neck I instinctively arch against him and I feel the edge of his teeth on my skin.

"Shall I mark you?" he asks softly. "Shall I brand you as my own?"

Gods yes.

"You've done that already," I say out loud, "over and over." I have evidence of that, too, all over my thighs, the underside of my breasts, where he's nipped and sucked at the skin. I remember the sounds I made at every one of the marks he left on me.

I want more.

"Shall I kiss every mark, then, beg its forgiveness and yours?"

Parts of last night are blurry, lost amidst swells of incredible pleasure and tenderness. I remember words repeated over and over, the world a dark haze. Please, from me, although I don't remember what I was pleading for. Mine, from him, each time his voice getting raspier, darker.

Dawn is filtering through the edges of the windows and I see the indentations my own teeth left on his shoulder.

Aemond murmurs against my ear. "Some people are coming over for brunch. I'm sorry."

I'm not surprised. I heard Alicent speaking to someone about "the menu" and I didn't think she was doing so much planning just for the family. "It's fine," I say, although I'd rather spend the day with him, just the two of us in bed.

When I step off the bed, though, I really feel the aftermath of the past two nights inside me and maybe it's better to take a little break.

"None of you have middle names?"

He shakes his head, watching me head into the bathroom.

"You do now," I saw, and he raises an eyebrow.

"Insatiable."

* * * * *

Helaena was right, I had only ordered a few things. My mind wasn't on planning an entire wardrobe at the time, but I did get a couple of dresses along with the jeans and sweaters and other basic stuff.

Showered and dressed, we headed to the main house, where I could see about a dozen people through the windows of some space I had yet to visit.

It was like a greenhouse but with a large banquet table in the middle. Aegon was chatting with a couple of older men. Alicent was talking to another lady, and Helaena was in the corner, looking at some plants, so I reached up and kissed Aemond's cheek before heading to talk to her.

"Hey, Hel."

"Oh, hey."

She sounded subdued and I didn't know her well enough to know what's going on, but then her gaze went over my shoulder. I didn't turn around right away, but instead talked to her for a bit before putting my arm around her and turning her to go to the table.

There was a man trying not to look at her, too. He was very good looking, in a rugged sort of way. Longer hair tied back, facial hair, grey eyes that crinkled when he smiled at me. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Targaryen."

It was the first time someone has called me that and it felt weird. Alicent was Mrs. Targaryen. I told him my name, and noticed he kept looking at Helaena so I started to move away and leave them alone but she grabbed my arm.

"Helaena," he said softly, and I knew I'd read the situation correctly.

"Hello Cregan."

"You're from Winterfell, right?" I asked, wondering what had happened between these two.

He told me about his family, the Starks, how his father had different ideas than he does, so now that his father has passed, he'd come to pledge his loyalty to the Targaryens.

He kept his eyes on me as he spoke but his body was facing Helaena, and her hand tightened on my arm. I placed my other hand on top of hers, letting her know I would not leave her, and she relaxed a little.

"Madame," someone said at my side and I turned to see a server with a tray of Champagne flutes.

"Thank you," I said and took one, and so did Helaena and Cregan.

"Aemond."

Cregan extended his hand and my husband took it. "Welcome, Cregan. We're glad you're here."

We chatted for a little about nothing specific, and then Alicent beckoned us to the table. There were a dozen covered dishes and servers came in and lifted off the lids, all at the same time, like some choreographed dance. Knowing Alicent, it probably was.

I saw that Cregan was sitting across from me, so I pulled Helaena to sit next to me and she gave me a small smile.

* * * * *

Halfway through brunch, after people from Houses loyal to the Targaryens had all congratulated us and studied me as if I was some freak of nature, Aemond took his phone out of his pocket and then stepped away from the table. I saw Aegon keep an eye on him, and then Ser Criston, the man who officiated our wedding, stepped in and nodded to Aemond.

"Sorry, everyone," Aemond said , "duty calls."

I rushed to Aemond. "What is happening?"

"The people who destroyed your home have been found. Don't expect me home tonight," he said quietly and I knew what he was going to do. I nodded and he kissed me and I whispered, "be careful."

This is what I will do, I thought. Stay home and worry. It didn't sit well with me but then I saw that Helaena and Cregan were talking and she was starting to smile.

There was a flurry of activity as various young men from the allied Houses flocked to Aemond and he started giving them instructions. They would take a few cars, the women could all stay in the guest quarters here until everyone returned.

"I want to go," Aegon said, and Aemond studied his brother.

"You can't. Not any more."

Aegon cursed, and Aemond laughed. "Maybe you can start changing some of the rules if they bother you so much."

"I can't today, anyway, I've had a few of these," he raised the Champagne flute. "Get a few in for me."

I turned to see Helaena place her hand in Cregan's. He was smiling at her and she looked at him like he was the center of her world.

"Stark!" Aemond yelled from the door and everyone went quiet.

Helaena went very still and I saw her eyes go wide. Aegon was smirking as he looked from Cregan to Aemond. Alicent was staring from her perch by the coffee table. Was this what people call accidental Renaissance paintings?

I whispered, "he shouldn't have to do this."

Aemond turned to me, and smiled bitterly. "Oh, but he does."

If he wants Helaena, I finished in my head.

I turned back as Cregan Stark headed towards Aemond, and nodded. "Let's go," he said, voice firm.

They left, and as the door closed, Helaena let out a sob and ran off.

* * * * *

Under Alicent's watchful eye, the women who stayed behind settled in, and she went to find you once all the guest rooms had been sorted.

"It isn't as easy as you might think," she said, "to keep it all together when we know what they are doing. Of course, Viserys never joined in, that's why he was the head of the family. But I had to keep everyone calm. Most of the wives were twice my age at the beginning, but they would listen, because I was his wife."

I didn't really give a shit, I just wanted to know about Helaena and Cregan, but really, Alicent was the last person I was going to ask.

"Was your family allied to the Targaryens before you married?" I asked instead.

She nodded. "My father was consigliere to Viserys, his right hand man. I knew him long before I married him."

She said nothing else but there was a lot left to tell, but between Aemond leaving and Helaena being upset, I suddenly just want to be by myself.

Helaena reappeared and gave me a small smile.

"Oh Hel," I said, taking my chance, "I wanted to ask you a couple of things."

She tucked her hair behind her ear and came up to me, "of course, whatever you need."

"The phone and laptop you got for me, first of all, thank you so much, are all the family numbers in the phone?"

"Oh yes," she began, and explained about how there were special shortcuts designed by Aemond to immediately alert the family should I need to. She was in her element, a knowledgeable woman who thrived in making everything orderly and organized.

Alicent stuck around long enough to hear the first part of our conversation but then lost interest and headed off somewhere, probably to brew some poisons or call to some bats or something. The woman seriously creeped me out.

"How long have you known Cregan? I asked quietly and watched, fascinated, as Helaena's face turned bright pink.

She looked around before leaning in. "Oh I've known him all my life but it's only been the last couple of years that . . . you know . . . I started to like him."

"He seems to like you," I responded, and she smiled.

"We weren't allowed to see each other," she continued, "since his father supported Rhaenyra's side, but Cregan feels differently."

I bet he fucking does.

"So when he came here to pledge his loyalty to Aegon, things became easier."

She went quiet, and again, tucked her hair behind her ear. "I do understand, you know," she continued. "You can't be in this family, as a man, and not be willing to do what they do. It would make him 'less' and I wouldn't want anyone I'm with to be considered 'less'."

I nodded. "He seemed very willing to prove himself today, and he seems nice."

"Oh, he really is. I mean, he's one of those northern guys, all outdoorsy and rugged and everything, but he's always been so nice to me." She lowers her eyes shyly. "I like him a lot."

"Well, if there is anything I can do, you let me know. I want you to be happy."

She threw her arms around me, surprising me. "I always wanted a sister. Little did I know she'd save my life."

* * * * *

I want to stay awake but I've barely slept the past two nights so I put my head down on the pillow and I wake up hours later when Aemond walks in.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were sleeping."

I rise onto my elbow and rub my eyes. "By the Seven, Aemond."

He's covered in blood. It's dried all over his clothes, his hair, his skin, and he looks like some mythological creature, a herald of death.

"Are you hurt?"

"No."

He doesn't say anything else before he walks into the bathroom and turns on the shower. I hear him throw his clothes into the hamper, wondering if any of it can be salvaged. Not that it matters. He probably has a thousand other sets of killing clothes.

I walk into the bathroom, see him standing under the spray. He has one hand resting on the wall and is letting the water pummel the back of his neck. My eyes go to his ass, and I smile.

Slipping off my clothes, I step into the shower and he turns. "I'm filthy," he warns.

"I can see that." I'm stepping in bloody water, rivulets of it running down his skin, and I don't care.

He takes a step back, "go, please."

"No."

I reach for his shampoo and he grabs my wrist. "I'm covered in blood and gore. Go. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"I said 'no'."

He doesn't let go of my wrist, and I don't let go of the shampoo bottle. He stares me down and I plant my free hand on my hip, as if I'm not naked and wet, as if my toes aren't touching someone's blood.

"You need to learn to let-"

"You need to remember what you promised me," I interrupt, "I agreed there were things you couldn't tell me, but you agreed that everything else was mine."

He looks at me, searching my face for the smallest sign of surrender and I give him none.

"I'm going to wash your hair."

He still hasn't let go of my wrist, and I can't really reach the shampoo like this, so before he decides to toss me out of the shower, I reach up and pull him down to me. I kiss him, and bite down on his lip hard enough that he flinches, and something in him snaps.

I find myself pressed against the shower wall, his hand in my hair so my head won't hit the tile. "Do you want to know how I got all this blood on me?"

I want to say no. Fuck no. But I know that much like Cregan earlier, I kind of have to agree. "Yes," I say, and he smirks, not believing me. "Tell me everything. Whose blood, where it came from, knives or guns. I want to know everything."

He frowns then, so I run my hand through his hair, where the water hasn't yet diluted a clump of dried blood. I show him my bloody hand, then I drag it over my breasts.

I've shocked him, but I'm not done.

I sink to my knees before him.

* * * * *

She looks up at me with big, innocent eyes, like she's not about to take me in her mouth. Without breaking eye contact, she wraps slim fingers first, then those delectable lips around me, and I have to steady myself.

Fearless, I think, and then she begins to move, lips and tongue, swirling and making obscene noises as she works me and I have to do something, say something, before I completely self destruct.

No one has ever accepted, no, embraced, the monster that I am. But here, with blood and brain matter and whatever else is under my fingernails, her hands are on me. She moves one to run it up my thigh, past my stomach, as high as she can reach from where she is.

She brings her hand back down and slips it between her thighs and I nearly lose it. I have to pull her off of me, so I fist my hand in her hair, squeeze until she lets go, and I pull her up. She licks her lips and looks at me from under her lashes, and I pull her to me.

Despite the fortress that I've successfully built around myself, I find that I need her. She is a light and I've been in the dark for so long.

I can almost feel each brick of that fortress, dislodging, each caress from her sends another piece flying, her hands over my skin, my bloodied hair, sets off the collapse of those walls.

She was right. I am hers.

I hand her the bottle of shampoo and lower my head before her. She rushes to open it, as if afraid I'll change my mind and then her hands are in my hair and it feels heavenly. She is so gentle, her fingernails catching on random bits stuck in my hair and she ever so slowly works them free. She rubs my scalp until I'm nearly dozing off, but then she pushes me back up. "Rinse."

She turns me around and washes my back, going over my ass and the backs of my legs. I almost tell her the blood is mostly on my hands but fuck it, it feels so good I keep my mouth shut.

I turn the water off and step out, grabbing two bath sheets. I wrap her in one and it covers her from under her arms to her ankles, and she has to pull it up so she can walk.

"Do they only make these in Giant?"

I laugh while I dry off. She's given me this. Random moments of laughter. Before she can get too far on tiny steps, I grab her and lift her in my arms, and she shrieks but wraps her arms around me.

I don't want her to get cold, so I click the switch and the fireplace blooms, and I grab a couple of blankets as I head closer to the flames. When I place her down on the blankets she reaches for me, and this time I let her continue. She kneels between my legs and takes me in her mouth again, her hands adding to the torment as they roam over everywhere she can reach.

My hands fist at my sides while her head goes up and down, over and over, pushing me closer to the edge. I'm not going to last much longer and I grab her hair again but she keeps going, and before I can make another attempt to pull her off me, the world goes black and I am coming, my entire body tensing as she sucks and licks through my orgasm, moaning as she swallows every drop.

When I can see again, she's curled against me, her fingers drawing the lightest of lines on my chest. "I'm sorry," I say, "I've never-"

"Aemond," she interrupts, rising up on her elbow to glare at me. "If I hadn't wanted you to come in my mouth, guess what, you wouldn't have come in my mouth."

That settled, she snuggles against me again and I feel her toes going up and down my calf.

"Are you comfortable?"

"You make a pretty good body pillow," she says, then goes quiet. "Did you get all of them?"

I flash back to the room where then ended up. Where their lives ended.

"Yes."

"Good."

After a minute, she asks, "does Cregan Stark get the seal of approval, then?"

"He said he'd kill for Helaena. And he didn't throw up."

She shakes her head.

She dozes off eventually and I am glad, because she hasn't thought to ask. I handle all the weapons and the armory, so where did my father get his firepower?

Today I found out where. And what else they are planning to do.

* * * * *

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[verdemoun]

hi im back on my "overlooked things" bullshit

the gang and clothes. oh god that must've been chaotic. What the fuck do you mean you don't have to wear a union suit. What do you mean you??? Just??? Get to dress however you want??? Hello whY IS THERE SO MANY WOMEN WEARING PANTS WOW???

Comfort clothes. Kieran and clothes was already mentioned once, but I'm thinking about others. Some stick to their style, probably. I see Hosea as such a guy. John is living out his emo dreams /j

Charles, his newfound hobby of (insert vague gesture here) you know, and special clothes for this sort of thing. And protection. Good gloves, goggles, all that. Mate's in heaven. You cant tell me otherwise.

The first shopping trip is a fucking journey every time a new person appears. The availability. Prices. The materials. PRINTS. (I work with prints on fabric and lemme tell you. That shit is wild even for me. Let alone 1899 people.) The vast amount of styles and all that.

And, dumbass designs of course. The weird ones you can get from AliExpress or whatever and it's a fucking trip every time. As much as I wanna say it's Sean who discovers those first, I'd say it's Arthur. My guy wasn't too quick to learn tech and stuff so he saw a nice tshirt for a low price, ordered it, and he didn't look at it what was written.

His 1899 mindset of "i have it therefore it cannot be thrown away i can't afford more" wins out and he keeps it. You can't tell me otherwise.

welcome back always get the happiest hand flapping stim getting to long asks

absolutely assuming every woman who wears pants is a lesbian for the longest time

wearing pajamas for the first time. clothes being so plentiful they have a designated for sleep. and sleepwear being so much more comfortable than a union suit or ye olde undergarments the first time most of them wear flannel is a life changing experience.

bessie accidentally bought hosea clothes whenever she saw something she thought her husband would like it was her way of coping with him being gone for so long. he is rocking the brown loafers looks like he owns a yacht the beige pants but also coziest old man sweaters

john and arthur both just wear slightly modernized versions of their regular clothes they are dorks. john has the black leather bikie jacket with stupid fashion belts and buckles he looks amazing like generic punk outfit

CHARLES bordering on hoarder with the gloves. guilty of buying gloves in different colors just because he likes the color even though he already has 3 pairs of the same glove. most of the time enjoying the comfort of looking like a southern dad with the plaid and jeans but also work pants with the extra knee padding and a dozen pockets a different tool in every pocket walking down the street need a screwdriver? tape measure? wrench? electrical tape? timber screws? always on hand.

lenny and sean are the temu fashion disasters. bird shirts floral prints galore. the technicolor because it's so new to them!! the most hideous busy patterns but somehow making it work

sean accidentally bought a blue lives matter shirt and lenny had to draw the line and explain sean no. he started wearing it inside out instead of throwing it out and attempted to bleach the crappy iron off

arthur is so self conscious and so convinced he is ugly he is hyperaware of not sticking out in modern era he went through plain shirt and unremarkable pants for months. guilty of having a hoodie he won't leave the house without until he eventually settles on just modern era gunslinger outfit. owns 4 versions of the same outfit because he has npc energy in modern era can fit every piece of clothing he owns in a backpack.

[moonythejedi394]

snippet from ch19 of into the dark

When they get to Saks, it is closed just like Steve was promised. Darcy, Peggy, and Angie all look horrified.

“Why is it closed!” Darcy whines. “What are we gonna do now!”

“Go in anyway,” Steve says, knocking on the door.

Someone comes to unlock it. Steve flashes his Seyrbakov ring, little that he needs to; his and Bucky’s wedding got leaked to the press by a caterer, so everyone knows what he looks like again.

“Welcome, Mr. Barnes,” they say. “My name is Victoria Hudson, I’m the manager. Please, please, come in.”

Darcy’s jaw drops. “Did you get the whole store closed just for us?”

“Yep,” Steve says.

They file in. Bucky’s right behind Steve and Steve can feel his gaze burning a hole in his jeans. His bodysuit has ridden up and exposes a bit of his back.

“This way,” Victoria tells him. “Your personal shoppers are Janice, Allie, Tisha, and Courtney. Please, anything you need, don’t hesitate to ask. When I’ve shown you to your dressing room, would you like refreshments?”

“What do you have?” Steve asks.

“We have sodas, champagne, and wine – red and white,” Victoria says.

“I’ll take a Diet Coke,” Steve says. “Ladies?”

“Champagne!” Darcy says at once.

“Same,” Angie says.

“Red wine,” Peggy answers.

“I’ll fetch it right away,” Victoria assures Steve. “This way.”

They’re shown to a private dressing room on the first floor. The guards wait outside after inspecting it. Inside, their four personal shoppers bow and Victoria whisks away to fetch their refreshments. The personal shoppers introduce themselves as Bucky takes off his coat and falls onto a couch. Steve, to be mean to him, drops into his lap.

“No touching,” he says.

“G-ddammit,” Bucky mutters.

“Where would you like to start?” Allie asks.

“You’re the lovebirds,” Steve says to Peggy and Angie.

“Lingerie!” Angie says at once.

“G-ddammit,” Bucky repeats softly.

“We have a very wide selection,” Tisha says. “If you would please, we’ll get your measurements and then bring you one of everything.”

Steve gets up, shrugging off his jacket, which he drops into Bucky’s lap and Bucky puts to the side. Each of the four shoppers takes their measurements, then whisk out of the room again. Steve sets himself in Bucky’s lap again and then examines his nails.

“Youse wanna join me for mani/pedis after?” he asks.

“Is that even a question?” Darcy counters.

“Yes,” Peggy says.

“Fuck yeah,” Angie laughs.

Victoria arrives with two other employees and their refreshments. They bring in an entire cooler, filled with ice, Diet Coke, and three bottles of champagne, as well as a bottle of red wine. Victoria personally uncorks the bottles and fills the ladies' glasses. Steve just drinks out of the can. Bucky goes to take a Coke and Steve slaps his hand away.

“Would you also bring waters for my husband and our employees?” he asks Victoria.

“Certainly,” Victoria answers.

“Bucky, wallet,” Steve adds.

Bucky sighs and digs out his wallet. Steve pulls out three hundred dollars and tips all three of the Saks’ employees.

“Thanks!” one of the other two says.

After they leave, Steve then takes the time to count all the cash in Bucky’s wallet. Seven thousand. He puts four thousand aside for the personal shoppers, then tucks the rest away for the time being.

“I’m very sorry,” Bucky says again.

“I heard you the first time,” Steve says.

“What did he even do?” Angie asks.

“I woke up alone, he was working first thing in the morning on a Sunday which is his one day off, and he didn’t take his Xanax,” Steve says. Then whips around. “Did you take it when we got home?”

“Yes!” Bucky says.

“Good,” Steve answers, then turns back to the room.

“Man, I can’t wait to see what you’ll do if he seriously fucks up,” Angie says.

“Vacation,” Steve tells her. “Without him,” he adds with a dark look over his shoulder; Bucky raises his hands in surrender.

“Take us with you?” Darcy begs.

“Sure,” Steve says.

Darcy pumps a fist. Peggy sips her wine.

“I absolutely adore that we had no other friends in high school,” she says to Steve.

“I absolutely adore that we were buddied up in Fang!” Darcy laughs.

Their personal shoppers return, along with six other employees, carrying large baskets of lingerie, two for each of them. Steve gives a hundred dollars each to the other six employees, then gets up and just unzips his boots there. There’s only one changing room.

“You ladies mind a bit of nudity?” Steve asks, dropping one boot into Bucky’s lap.

“Not at all,” Tisha promises.

“G-ddammit,” Bucky hisses a third time.

Darcy grins and yanks off her top. Bucky hastily covers his eyes so he can only see Steve. Peggy and Angie go looking through their baskets first. Steve takes off his other boot, then unzips his jeans. He can feel Bucky peeking at him. Gleefully, Steve shoves them down. His bodysuit is a thong. Bucky sucks in a breath. Steve drops his jeans into Bucky’s lap, too, then shrugs off the sleeves of his bodysuit.

“Nu porți lenjerie intimă?” [Are you not wearing underwear?] Bucky asks sharply.

“Nope,” Steve says, slipping the garment off.

“Dă-ma dracului,” [Fuck me] Bucky exhales.

“Nope,” Steve repeats.

Darcy strips naked, too, and Bucky fully covers his eyes, crossing his legs. It’s nothing to do with Darcy. Steve goes into his lingerie baskets and sorts through items, setting aside everything he already doesn’t like, which is about a quarter of it. Tisha collects that, putting it aside to be returned. Peggy and Angie use the changing room, but he and Darcy are quite content to be naked and to try on everything then and there. Bucky can’t even see what Steve’s trying on because of Darcy and he grumbles about it in Romanian. Tisha assists Steve and Allie assists Darcy in trying on each piece. Steve decides another quarter isn’t worth buying, but takes the rest. Already, he’s spending almost forty thousand dollars. Darcy ends up with about twenty thousand dollars’ worth. Peggy and Angie come back out with armfuls of lingerie to buy and Steve looks over each piece to total them up; Peggy’s spending about fifteen thousand and Angie’s spending nearly thirty thousand. It’s been about two hours at that point.

“What would you like to see next?” Tisha asks.

“I think party clothes,” Steve says, looking at the ladies. “Good?”

“Fuck yeah,” Angie says.

“And matching shoes and accessories!” Darcy says.

“Yes,” Peggy agrees.

The shoppers get their preferences, then take back what’s been rejected and Steve pops open another Diet Coke.

“Do you have your clothes back on?” Bucky asks.

“Nope,” Steve says.

“I’ll put mine on,” Darcy laughs, slipping her top on without her bra.

Steve turns around as Bucky peeks from under his hand. Steve decides to be meaner and knocks Bucky’s ankle off his knee, then sits in his lap to sip his soda.

“Dă-ma dracului,” Bucky repeats softly, looking at Steve’s dick.

“How about we do mani/pedis tomorrow?” Steve suggests. “That way we can take our time here.”

“Boss, can I have the day off tomorrow?” Darcy asks, back in her jeans without her underwear.

“Yes,” Bucky says.

“I’m in,” Darcy says.

“If we do it after five,” Peggy answers, “I’ll be off work by then and Angie doesn’t work Mondays.”

“It’s a date,” Steve says. 

“Can we come over early and use the hot tub?” Darcy asks.

“Sure,” Steve tells her.

“You gonna ask me?” Bucky prompts.

“No,” Steve says.

Bucky sighs. He’s still looking at Steve’s dick and he’s getting hard. Steve will not stop the torture.

“Man, I love free champagne,” Angie sighs. “Pegs, can I get drunk?”

“If you’d like,” Peggy answers.

“Fuck yeah,” Angie says before kissing her.

[galaxyedging]

Empty Nester Husband x wife reader.

Not a RPF, just a character inspired by this look.

Warnings: self doubt. Dry spell. Unprotected P in V sex.

Summary: Your husband tries to breathe some life back into your sex life.

That Fur Coat

“Are you sure about this?” He tucked the tight white vest back into his jeans from where it had popped out during his last pose.

“Yes! You look great! Your wife will love it.” Mandy the very upbeat, and very young, photographer reassured him.

With a slight grumble under his breath, he tugged the heavy fur coat back on to his broad shoulders, ignoring the nagging ache in the base of his spine. The rest of the photo shoot went smoothly. Not that he agreed with any of Mandy's outfit choices. She assured him he looked handsome, sexy even. All he saw was an ageing guy trying to look cool.

A week later when the photo book arrived, he was glad his wife was out. Taking the parcel from the delivery guy, thanking him and closing the door, he ran upstairs and into their bedroom. He sat staring at the innocently wrapped parcel like he had the school backpack that held the first nudie mag that his friend snuck out of his father's stash. His teeth troubled his plump bottom lip. He wondered what madness had overtaken him to think this was a good idea. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts he did hear his wife enter the room.

If you were honest and kind to yourself, the years hadn't been too bad on your figure. You could see all the parts your husband loved or he did love. That was a grey area at the moment. There was no doubt in your heart that he loved you. He was such an honest and affectionate man. His face held so much expression, and there was no way for him to hide his feelings for you. In turn, you still love him as much as you did when you married young and had your children. Both of whom had now left for college. Leaving you and your husband in a big empty house with all the alone time you could want. Maybe that's how this dry spell started. Sneaking around to have sex when the kids were around was fun. Now that you have ample opportunity, it feels like an expectation. Now that you had time and space, things should be hotting up, right? Rolling your eyes at your reflection, you held up the silk Teddy to your body. You felt like a walking cliche. The middle-aged housewife trying to spice things up. No, that wasn't a cliche. Marriage takes work. All aspects of it. If dropping fifty bucks on some naughty lingerie to prance around in did the job, so be it. Your husband's car was still in the drive when you got home. The house was quiet when you opened the door. Assuming he was busy in his new home office, you crept upstairs to put away your purchases.

“I wasn't expecting you home.” He gripped the package on his lap as he stood quickly.

“I only wanted a couple of things.” You shrug trying to casually place your bags on your dresser.

“I see.” The nerves in his voice worried you.

“Are you alright? You sound upset.” You step toward him as he sunk onto the bed.

Twenty something years together and he still haven't learned to hide things from you.

The lines around his eyes deepened as he laughed. “Yeah. I just…I got you a present. It's stupid. I just should have talked to you.”

“About what?” Your hand thread into his without you even realising.

“Our little dry spell.” He gave your hand a squeeze.

It was your turn to laugh. “You mean the thing I spent over two hundred dollars on buying scraps of material that barely constitute underwear?”

“Two hundred? Why? You know seeing you in my old t-shirts does it for me just fine.”

“It hasn't lately.”

“I know. That's on me. I've been in my own head. Our sex life has always been great even when we had to put cartoons on for the kids and fuck in the utility room. It's just been so long since we could just be us. I guess I put too much pressure on it.”

“That pretty much sums it up. You always know the right thing to say.”

“I wished I'd known that before I did this.” Tearing open the package he handed you a black book with ‘For My Darling Wife’ etched in gold on the front cover.

“What's this?” You smiled.

With an exaggerated huff he dropped his face into his hands. “Just…look.”

The pages were filled with glossy photographs of your husband in all sorts of sexy outfits. You'd always thought he was sexy but the persona he took on in the photographs took your breath away. He reminded you of the hot tempered teen your husband once was. The dark look on his face made it look like he was ready to devour you.

“Wow. These are…”

“Stupid. I know.”

“...hot.”

“What? You like them?”

“Why wouldn't I? You look sexy, Baby.”

A bashful smirk played on his lips. “Really?”

“Absolutely. Maybe you could throw on a white vest and jeans while I slip into my overpriced scraps?”

In the end it did matter what you wore. You both ended up naked. The two of you curled up together as he gently thrust into you from behind. Barely half his cock could press inside you in that position. It was still enough. He took his time stretching you around his girth, his finger giving your clit long drawn out strokes. There was no rush, no worry of interruptions. Just the two of you stoking each other's bliss. When he felt you getting closer, his pace quickened.

Pulling his hair you teased in his ear. “Are you going to fuck me like a fur coat wearing rockstar?”

“It depends. Are you going to take it like a skimpy lingerie wearing slut?” Any self conscious concerns he had about his body melt away as he rolled you on your front and watched his cock disappear inside you. He might be older, not old, but it didn't mean he couldn't get the job done. The screams of his name as he drove his cock home proved that. A thought occurred to him that hadn't in years, he pulled out and jerked his load all over your ass. “Fuck. Now that is worthy of a picture.”

A playful swot to your ass made you giggle until the cum on the swell of your ass dripped down between your cheeks caused you to hiss.

“Cold?” He flopped down next to you absently drawing shapes on your bare back.

“Hmmm. Worth it.” You bite your lip at him.

Cupping your face, he teases your lip out with his thumb only to suck it in between his own teeth. A gentle bite is soon soothed by a swipe of his tongue.

“Let's never go too long without doing this again. I missed you.”

“I missed you, too. At least I have something to keep me company if we do have another dry spell.” You look past him to the book on the side table. “I can't believe you did that for me.”

“You know I'd do anything for you.” Rolling on his back he pulled you onto his chest. The light sheen on sweat making you stick to him didn't bother you. It was nice to revel in him again. The touch of his smooth skin. His scent.

“Anything?” He hums as you kiss his chest. “Do you think you can get a hold of that fur coat?”