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rxmye · 5 months ago

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" 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 "

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄!𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 — For so long, he found art in his surroundings, nature was his muse . . who would've thought that he'd be able to find another muse, within you.

gender neutral reader / yandere oc x reader / obsessive / unhealthy themes / I guess the reader is his 'hater' / perfectionist yandere / kind of egotistic yandere / he has a praise kink frfr / maybe a bit self centered . . / kind of unedited / also might appeal to ppl with a savior complex

masterlist | requesting rules | character info . . . a/n: I feel like Lore takes up a good chunk of this fic, but enjoy . . also might be one of my longest fics . .

He was a calming presence, and a thoughtful friend to all he called his own. Elegance took a human form, in Xavier Wilson—A beautiful work of art indeed . . Born presenting a talent that could rival many others in the industry.

From a young age, Xavier presented himself as a man of the arts, often drawing out vivid tapestries of his dreams or memories. He would often lose himself in the pages of his notebook, scribbling away with intricate drawings and stories, his mind was his own magnum opus.

However—people was never his strong suit. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, surely if he was as magnificent as those around him expressed, he'd most certainly be able to recreate the portraits of those around him?—But no, none of his portraits could compare to his various other works.

As he got a bit older, his mother decided to enroll him in classes that could help expand his talents, which ranged from various music lessons, theater (didn't end well), art history—etc . . .

Xavier let out a breathy sigh, staring at the keys of the grand piano absentmindedly—his gloved fingers gently glide over the keys, tired would be the best way to describe him as of right now—his professor had left an hour ago, yet Xavier couldn't find it in himself to move.

Truth be told, Xavier wasn't a fan of music, he preferred quiet solitude—and though he had long since gotten used to the sound of the piano, violin, and any of the other ridiculous instruments his mother was so keen on getting him to play—he still preferred the silence over all.

Over the course of time, Xavier disinterest towards music dimmed—Alongside his distaste towards instruments . . He figured the reason he disliked it so much was due to his inability to play as perfectly as his professor . . Xavier was a perfectionist, and anything he couldn't perfect was simply 'wrong' in his eyes, and as he reached his teen years, he accepted that fact wholeheartedly.

Xavier stood still, as his mother fixed his tie for him—he could do it himself but he let her enjoy this moment, she always disliked watching her son 'grow up so fast'—"are you nervous?", she asked softly, gently holding his hands, smiling so brightly.

'Am I nervous?—' he thought, clearly not. He felt calm, neutral even. It was his first big show, yet internally he knew that things would end well for him, he could feel it. He's always been lucky, in fact his father's nickname for him as a child was quite literally 'Puer aureus' which translated to 'the golden boy' from Latin.

He clicked his tongue, a common habit of his—especially when he wasn't being exactly truthful—he paused for a moment as if to think, then he smiled at his mother, "Just a bit, but I'll be fine" he spoke calmly, gently squeezing her hand to reassure her. "Don't worry, I've prepared well for this . . Haven't I?"

Praise, he adored praise, and that day he received quite a lot of it—not just from his parents, or acquaintances . . .—but crowds of people. Honestly, it stroked his ego, quite a bit . .

By seventeen years of age, Xavier's talent was known worldwide, his rise to fame quite massive and fast . . He had to attend class, while also hosting live performances and art galleries. (such a struggle, really . . .)

University admissions were coming around, and most of his friends had chosen what schools they plan on applying to—what path they plan on going into—what school they hope to go to the most, the conversation was an eye opener and yet it all felt so bitter.

Xavier tapped his pen on the table, zoning out from the conversation his friends were having . . only to zone back in when Neva spoke, "—so Xavier, have you decided where you'll be applying too . . ? I'm sure you'll get in."

He clicked his tongue in response, closing his eyes absentmindedly as he spoke, "To be honest, not really . . probably something arts related?", Xavier was about to speak up again but stopped himself, starring down at the table, a sigh escaping his lips.

"That seems like a waste of money", he looked up, starring at Oliver with questioning eyes, and Oliver quickly explained himself, "Art school is great and all—But it won't really make much of a difference for you, in fact the rules could restrict your talent . . It could be better for you to just try something new? You're good in school a degree outside of your comfort zone may be something good for you!"

He hated that his friend was right, he hated being wrong. He prided himself for always knowing what was best for himself and his abilities, and in a spur of pettiness he found himself taking art anyway, trying to prove his friend wrong . . even though he was well aware his intentions were pure in all ways.

Xavier had done well in his courses so far, and with his fame, he was breezing through classes—and yet, when the topics of portraits came up . . he found all that floating out the window.

None of the models they had for class, felt right—none of the art he did, felt authentic . . felt like himself, when it came to art, Xavier took everyone to paradise, his art felt like peace . . his art was calm . . his music was soft, lulling almost . .

Yet now, as he stared at his canvas, covered in mixed harsh colours, a vibrant mess of paint, his brushes wrecked, paint dripping from the easel . . It felt like anything but calm.

And that's when he dropped out, a question to his perfection would wreck the fragile image of himself he had created in his mind, a man so perfect and lucky in his own right a humbling experience like that was to never see the light of day.

Xavier found himself turning to something different, just like Oliver suggested, his alternatives were selective, yet he kept many paths open, Photography, fashion, and business were his top picks and things he found himself surprisingly enjoying . . Surely if he could paint and create melodies of such wonders, then he can stitch some fabric together, solve a few equations, and take a few photo's here and there just fine . . right?

A few years had past, and Xavier was now running his very own Luxury fashion line, he still hosted art galleries here and there, and composed music on the side, but his business took up most of his time.

But on his free days he'd turn to photography, taking pictures of things he sought comfort in . . and people, he'd often take pictures of unsuspecting people, pretty ones . . people not so pretty as well, just to try and recreate the life they had on a canvas . . yet somehow always failing to do so.

The moment Xavier found himself close, he'd reach a dead end . . and that destroyed him, internally.

Over the years, he accepted the small flaws in his behavior, and tried his best to reform them, presenting himself as the perfect public figure. He did go to therapy in the past, but when things started rising up, he quit entirely.

Xavier laid back on his office chair, and scrolled through his recent posts comment section, and as expected almost all of it was praise . . some of envy, but that only fueled his ego more . . Until he found a comment that set him off, "His art is so melancholy, it feels a bit sad . . His previous works were brighter, like more happy but now it kind of feels sad . . Like the life in his work isn't there anymore."

Xavier stared at the comment dumbfounded, never had he received that kind of feedback . . portraits he drew were indeed lifeless, but his other art was always regarded as lively, and that was what he always strived for . . Curious, and in a fit of rage . . he clicked on the commenters profile, and saw you.

You, you . . You were what he was looking for, his muse. So, full of life . . He scrolled through your page, and couldn't help but feel the urge to draw you, and paint you . . and paint you he did. . Because soon his entire studio was filled with pieces inspired by you . . so full of 'life' . . .

Yet at some point, he had reached the end of your posts, and it just wasn't enough . . he needed you . . He wanted your feedback, he craved your praise . . like no other, he wanted input . . he wanted to know if his work was truly still lifeless . . he wanted you.

After all, a artist isn't complete without his muse.

@ rxmye , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

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imamotherfuckingstar-lord · 1 year ago

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imagine bucky being drunk

warning: kinda spicy at the end

"He's doing it again."

Sam nudged you in the ribs, tearing your eyes away from Carol; who had been giving you the latest details on her life. The two of you frowned but then Carol smirked, nodding to your boyfriend across the small dive bar she had taken everyone to. Bucky was standing next to Steve and he was pretend punching him in the face. Steve was laughing whilst blocking his friend's air punches.

"I love drunk Barnes," Carol sighed contently and you agreed.

"He's so cute when he's drunk."

"Sure, real cute when the tab is over a grand because it takes a whole brewery to get him tipsy."

Ignoring Sam, you promised Carol you'd return to hear the rest of her story and she smirked, holding up her beer. "We have all night."

Stepping away from the table, you smiled at the bickering going on behind you as to who was going to pay for the tab. Leaving Wilson and Danvers to settle that argument, you walked over to the oldest men in the bar. Bucky's eyes moved to you and he grinned like a little puppy, pushing Steve aside to stumble over to you.

"God, you're so cute," he hollered, pretending to grab a piece of you to eat. He consumed air you and you laughed, grabbing his hand before he could take another bite.

Bucky quickly engulfed you into a hug, squeezing so tight you had to holler for him to release you. "I love a good strangling, but let's keep that for the bedroom, babe."

Steve groaned. "Come on, man."

You smirked, allowing Bucky to pull your back against his chest. He wrapped both arms around your waist and rested his head on your shoulders. "Sounds like Stevie boy needs a little fun."

"That's what it sounds like," you echoed Bucky's sentiments and Steve rolled his eyes when you suggested Carol up as a potential booty call. "What? She's fucking hot. Smart. Funny."

"Captain America, Captain Marvel..." Bucky slurred out a burp and the two of you busted into laughter - giggling like children. Steve instantly turned red and that just made the laughter louder until Carol called out to see what was so funny.

"Don't say a word," Steve grumbled under his breath, pulling at his shirt. "...stay here."

Bucky and you watched as Steve made his way to the booth, sliding next to Carol, who smiled at him. Sam looked over to you and Bucky held a hazy finger to his lips - the veteran understood and quickly excused himself from the booth. He didn't bother walking over to Bucky and you, because everyone knew the two of you were ridiculous together, sober or drunk. Most people couldn't stand being in a room with the two of you for more than a few minutes; hands all over each other or worse, jokes and laughter that seemed endless.

Turning to face your boyfriend, you squished his cheeks and he practically beamed. He was totally drunk and you were totally in love. He kissed you on the lips, at first gently but then his grip tightened at your waist and you buckled against his body.

"....so cute I could eat."

"What's stopping you? The bathroom is unisex..."

Bucky practically welp, gathering you up in his arms in a haste. Having a former super solider as a boyfriend had its perks - his stamina was endless, his physique would make a grown man cry, but his strength? That man could lift hundreds of pounds, so no matter your weight - this motherfucker made you feel light as a feather. And boy, you could get him stiff as a board.

"I just know you're thinking nasty shit," he groaned, moving you towards the bathroom.

"I am but pure of heart, James."

Bucky smiled contently, kicking the bathroom open. It was as good as a bar restroom could get. He placed you gently on the sink and made sure the door was locked. Two strides, that's all it took for him to get on his knees and pulling your panties down from under your skirt. His eyes rolled back for a moment as he took in the sight, but then he glanced up at you with a devilish smile as he firmly spread your legs.

"I love you," he whispered right before diving in-between your thighs.

Rendered speechless, all you could do was grip his hair and lean back into the sink mirror; the lowlights flickering as Bucky reminded you how much you loved drunk him. When all his inhibitions disappeared and he got to enjoy the little things in life - which included going to bars with your closest friends, running the highest of tabs, trying to hook up friends, and most importantly, going down on your girlfriend in a dingy bathroom.

#bucky barnes going down on his girl #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #marvel #steve rogers x carol danvers

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dewdropdinosaur · 1 month ago

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Kinktober Day 20: Threesome

Summary: You're good with kids, there is no doubt. Heck, you're a kindergarten teacher, you love little ones. Your boyfriends on the other hand, just love how great you are with kids. Maybe it's time to give you one of your own. Warnings: P in V sex, threesome, breeding kink, cum, reader had a vagina, etc. MDNI, 18+. You're responsible for your own media consumption. Kinktober Mention of the Day: @cassandrascottt

You stood at the front of the classroom, laughter mingling with the excited chatter of the students. The vibrant walls were filled with painted art projects, and the scent of crayons and fresh paper lingered in the air. Today’s lesson was all about storytelling, and you had encouraged the kids to use their imaginations, their faces lighting up with every new idea. From being a superhero, a princess, or a dragon, your student’s ideas never failed to excite you.

As the bell rang, the students began to gather their things, and you smiled, waving them off. “Remember, tomorrow is our storytelling contest! Bring your best tales but make sure they are written in your scrapbook!” The children cheered and scrambled out, their giggles echoing in the hall. The day had ended and while a satisfying one, you couldn’t wait to get back home and snuggle up to some warm food with your boyfriends. Yes, Wade Wilson and Logan were an odd pair by themselves but adding you into the mix seemed to make it all the sweeter (or hornier if you asked Wade).

Outside, you spotted Wade and Logan leaning against the school’s brick wall. Wade, in a red graphic tee and a pair of black jeans, was animatedly gesturing as he spoke, while Logan, in his classic flannel and jblue eans, looked not as amused, arms crossed over his chest. Your heart swelled, it was moments like this—seeing the two of them together—that reminded you of how unique their relationship was.

“Hey, beautiful!” Wade called out, his voice playful. “How many lives did you ruin today with your educational superpowers?”

Laughing with an eye roll, you replied while approaching the duo. “Just a few. No one will need intensive therapy after my storytelling lesson!”

Logan pushed off the wall, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re doing just fine. Kids need someone who gets them.” He stepped closer, his presence grounding and warm.

As you walked to the car, Wade pretended to swoon dramatically. “Oh, I’m hot for teacher! So captivating! Did you see how the kids hung on your every word? I was this close to signing up for kindergarten myself!” He pinched his fingers dramatically, as if to show just how close he was to sitting in on your class. It would certaintly be interesting.

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. “You’d probably scare them off with your face, bub”

A slow blush creeped up your cheeks as Logan opened the car door for you. “You both are ridiculous,” you tried to sound agitated, putting on your best teacher voice, but a shy smile betrayed your amuesment. “But it’s sweet. I’m glad you think I’m good with the kids.”

That caught their attention. They had certaintly talked about it before but now hearing the idea aloud, how good you were with kids thta weren’t even your own, now that sparked an idea. With a quick glance to each other, no words were needed to form the plan that was about to commence. Allowing the thoughts to stew on the ride home, you had no idea of their plan when you entered your shared apartment. Of course, it was messy but the boys had allowed you to decorate it; making it seem less like a college frat dorm room and more like a home. And if their plan came to fruition, it certainy would be a home indeed.

Suddenly, Logan grabbed yours wrists and pinned you down against the nearest wall. His smoldering gaze glowered down at you as his face leaned down to whisper in huskily in your ear.

“What do you think about having some kits of your own?”

“What?”

Coming to your side, Wade joined his partner in looking down at you. Using his hand to reach around and cup your chin, he brought your shocked gaze to look up at him.

“Dollface, I think peanut here is asking to breed you. And I am certainly not opposed to the idea. I mean I am sure a hundred Tumblr fics have been written about it already—”

A dark chuckle erupted from Logans throat at Wade’s words, for once he wasn’t annoyed at the merc’s mouth. As he stood up and let his grip go, both men now stared down at you. After some stumbling and a few apologies to about tripping over variois objects, all three parties ended up in the master bedroom with clothes on the floor. You, laid on the bed and the boy’s eyes darkened with hunger at the sight of your bare form, a silent understanding among them of what was about to happen.

Wade leaned down and took one of your hardened nipples in his mouth, the warmth of his tongue teasing the aroused bud. Dragging his hands across your torso, he slowly marked your skin with his hands. Logan, instead dipped down and spread your thighs, enjoying the way they felt in his calloused hands. With a whimper, you couldn’t help but arch your back into his touch as he dragged his nose across your slit. The heat from his breath left you soaked with desire, cunt clenching around nothing as you imagined all the things that were about to happen.

Hoisting your legs up on his shoulders, Logan massaged the tip of his cock against you hole. Not allowed a moment of reprieve, sheathing his heady member into your cunt with one stroke, Wade then bit the corner of your collarbone to distract you from Logan’s actions. He stretched your needy hole, both of your moaning both at the sight and feeling, the delicious yet somewhat burning friction that both of you so desperately craved. You gasped at the stretch, gripping the sheets with each strong stroke. The velvet of your walls squeezing Logan so tight that with every exit and entry of his member into your cunt, the ribs of his cock rubbed against you in a painfully delicious way. Wade took initative and slowly started to leave hot wet kisses and nips across the valley of your neck, only pausing to whisper filthy things in your ear as Logan carried out a relentless pace.

“He’s gonna fuck you so good baby. Think about how good you’ll look, so big and glowing with our baby inside you. You’re gonna be such a good momma. Want us to make you a momma dollface?"

Gosh, he was so hot like this. You hung onto everyword, every image you presented you with. It was addicting, the feeling of Logan inside you, the softness of Wade’s lips worshiping your body as he debauched words continued to send wave after wave of arousal shooting straight down to your already weeping pussy. And you knew it may never happen, you were still on the pill and by all means Wade was infertile with Logan’s ability to breed in question since he was older.

But by any means, you could certaintly get used to this.

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star-girl-05 · 5 months ago

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Green or Red

James Wilson x Reader

~★~❤︎~✦~

“I’ve been Wilson's best friend for years, I’ve outlasted countless of Wilson's wives and girlfriends. Do you really think someone that's not even sleeping with him has more of a say then me” House wasn’t wrong he has known Wilson longer than you but Wilson was a known simp so you still had a chance.

“Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is then”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Hmmm.. Oh I know we’ll see who can get Wilson to wear a certain coloured tie.”

“Really that’s what you want” You just nod your head, feeling more confident by the second. “Fine, twenty bucks I can get Wilson to wear a red tie”

“Make it thirty and you have deal” House laughed agreeing to your terms

“What colour are you going for?” He asked as you started to head for the door.

“Green”

“James just the guy I was looking for” You intercepted him on his way to the clinic.

“Really what can I help you with ?”

“Well I just wanted to say you look quite dapper today, you look lovely in this blue tie but I think green would look even better” you weren't being subtle at all but you desperately wanted to win this bet.

A blush coated his cheeks in an adorable boy scout way, “Thanks” he fiddles with the end of his tie, “You look lovely today as well.” You smile at the compliment, Wilson is always the sweetest.

“I’ll see you later then” you give him a small wave before walking away.

~~~ House ~~~

“New tie?” House calls out as he pushes his way into the lunch line, forcing Wilson to pay for his meal.

“You're the second one to mention it,” Wilson mumbles as he walks over to a table.

“Not surprised since it's such an eye-sore” House was taking a completely different route than you. Instead of complimenting Wilson he was going to shit on his tie and then suggest a red tie.

“What are you talking about? Y/n just complimented me on it” Wilson is not sure if House is messing with him or if he’s being truthful. He’s more inclined to believe that House is full of shit due to the fact you had no reason to lie to him, but neither does House.

“I’m sure she did” he took an obnoxious large bite of his food, punctuating his sentence. House should have known you would get to Wilson first but not to worry he can convince him otherwise.

“Care to elaborate or are you going to continue to beat around the bush?”

“Y/n lied about your tie being nice because she wants you to look bad at work, because she has a huge crush on you and wants you to look bad so no one else flirts with you. I mean come on your like catnip for the nurses,” Houses says in between bites of food.

Wilson had no idea what to say, did you really have a crush on him, and did this tie look good or bad on him. “I can’t follow you today, and I have no idea why everyone is so obsessed with my tie”

“I’m not obsessed, just thought as your friend you’d like to know you’d look better in a red tie.” He shrugged his shoulders grabbing some fries off Wilsons tray before walking away.

Wilson Knew something was going on between House and You there's just no way both of you coincidently mentioned his tie. Honestly he’s not sure he wants to know. Though when he bumps into you he can’t help but try to pry some hints out of you.

“Hey y/n I was talking to house and he told me something interesting”

“Really what did he say?”

“He was talking about my tie”

“Oh, well I wouldn’t take fashion advice from him, have you seen the way he dresses?” You add a little chuckle.

“He was just saying the same thing about you”, of course he was.

So this weird thing you have going on with House is about his tie.

“That’s a fun coincidence, anywho I better get going but I’ll see you tonight”

“Tonight?” He has absolutely no idea what you're talking about.

“Yeah I’m going to let you take me out on a date”, This may be playing dirty but you were not going to let house win. The stakes are not high but if he wins he’ll constantly hold it over your head. Not that you were only going on a date with Wilson because of this bet. You did really like him but you were planning on making him work a little for it, but you're glad to go on a date with him a little earlier than you originally planned.

~~~~

“Wilson was just telling me about your little date tonight” you knew when House heard about your date with Wilson he would come to tease you about it. “Honestly I’m surprised that you're willing to sleep with him for a messily thirty bucks.”

“I’m not going to sleep with him for a bet”

“I’m not judging, I'm just impressed”

“That’s worse” you call after him, he’s already walking away “I don’t want your approval” but he’s already gone.

~~Later that night~~

After your date with Wilson you did end up going back to his house, and the two of you did end up sleeping together. What can you say? He's very charming.

When you were getting dressed that morning you couldn’t help but smile when he pulled out a green tie. You’ll buy him lunch with your new thirty bucks.

#dr james wilson x reader #james wilson #james wilson fanfic #james wilson imagine #james wilson x reader #james wilson fanfiction #dr james wilson #dr james wilson fanfic #dr james wilson fanfiction #dr james wilson imagine #house fandom #house imagine #house fanfic #house fanfiction #house md #house md fanfic #house md fanfiction #house md imagine

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avocado-writing · 3 months ago

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8 anon here! Could I request a short fic where poly Logan and Wade angered gn s/o because they had to fight a supervillain alone as both of them argued with each other so their punishment for both men is to spank them please? They made sure to asked for consent & took good care of them later though!

18+. minors dni.

Wade is naked and laid out across your lap, and Logan’s cock is twitching in interest.

A couple of months ago he’d have written anything like this off as the fantasy of a dirty old man. Never thought he’d be in a relationship again, let alone one with two other partners, especially with one of those partners being Wade fucking Wilson.

Fate is strange.

“Will you hurry up?” Wade sighs as your hand traces the peach of his ass. You cock an eyebrow.

“You’re meant to be getting punished.”

“It’s not a punishment when it feels so good, baby, you know that. I can get off from anything.”

“Hmm. Maybe I should take off my underwear, shove ‘em in your mouth. Make you shut up for a little bit.”

As demonstration you dip your fingers between his lips, pressing his tongue down flat. Wade moans around them and starts to suck.

You smile at Logan from across his body. Logan huffs as if he’s irritated, and not incredibly turned on.

Another fight, another instance of getting down and dirty with some fucker who wanted to hurt people. Luckily the three of you are far better at that particular task… usually. Wade had said something stupid which had set off his short fuse and rather than working together to stop the real threat, they’d got distracted with trying to fucking kill each other.

Leaving you to have to work it alone.

You’d done it, because you’re fantastic, but your face was full of thunder when the three of you had got back to the apartment. Logan pulled a katana out of his kidney. Wade was regrowing the fingers that claws had sliced off. You’d pulled a packet of peas out of the freezer and held them to a bruised eye.

“I’m not fucking happy, boys.”

“Pookie, we’re—” Wade begins, but a raised hand silences him.

“I think you’d better go to the bedroom.”

There was a steeliness in your voice Logan hadn’t heard before, but from the way Wade whipped off his mask, he definitely had.

“Oh shit? Now?”

You’d cocked your head towards the bedroom and he’d been off like a shot, leaving his suit strewn across the apartment floor. You’d turned to Logan.

“C’mon. You’re in trouble, too.”

He’d been interested enough to follow.

Your hand traces over the Wade’s ass as Logan watches from the chair in the corner of the bedroom - “sit in the cuck chair, old man, and enjoy the show!” “Wade, don’t call it the ‘cuck chair’, my grandpa bought us that.” “Your grandpa is a freak babe, dunno what to tell you.” - before striking down so hard that the slap echoes. Wade moans around the fingers still stuffed in his mouth. You do it again with more power, and Logan watches the way he humps into your leg in response. You smile. You’re striking with such force that it would probably be way too much for a normal man… but Wade isn’t normal. He likes the pain and he can take it.

And take it he does.

Your hand comes down over and over again, making the man in your lap devolve into more and more of a mess. Garbled groans turn into little mewls of pleasure that you tear from his throat, his cock making a mess onto the bedding beneath you, and Logan stares transfixed. He’s hard in his jeans. He can’t tear his eyes away. He feels like he’s watching something he shouldn’t be even when it’s blatantly on display, and it’s never made him feel so hungry in his life. When you watch him reach to adjust his aching cock, you point an accusatory finger his way.

“Hands where I can see ‘em, Howlett. This is a punishment.”

He obeys. He doesn’t have to, but there’s something in your voice which doesn’t bear arguing with. Arousal runs through his blood hot and heavy. You turn your attention back to Wade who is desperate for it, and after a couple more strikes he cums all over your leg. You’ve not even touched his cock.

“Good boy,” you whisper, moving him so you’re able to kiss him soft and slow, hand which was so vicious now gently stroking the area you’ve left bright red.

“Holy… holy shit…” Wade breathes, blissed out and miles away.

“I’ll grab you some water, honey. You did so well, huh? You can be so well-behaved when you want to be, hmm?”

You fix Logan with a smile.

“Then afterwards, it’s your turn.”

Logan’s cock throbs at the promise.

taglist: @falsewordz @malfoys-demigod @belilwen @mildly-salted @tvwebs @childeslegstrap @getmeoutofhell @s1eep-o @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @yrthr @momopad @sugarplumz100 @captainjinkx @madspads @acrosstheunivcrse @yeethaw1 @na-is-salty @florduarte @hunterispunk

#my writing #james logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x reader #logan x reader #wolverine x reader #x men x reader #logan howlett imagine #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #mcu imagine #wolverine fanfiction #mcu fandom #Deadpool x reader #wade wilson x reader

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chxrryhansen · 10 months ago

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౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ Cherry’s Cevans One Shot Rec List

here you will find all of my favourite chris evans + characters fanfiction recommendations, i have many more to add and will continue to update this list. Please don’t forget to reblog these amazing writers fics as they deserve so much love!💘💘

Walk On The Wild Side - @hansensgirl

you just wanted to go for a stroll down the road—but he wants you to take a walk on the wild side. (Dark!Chris Evans)

You Better Not Pout, Better Not Cry - @hansensgirl

they know if you’ve been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake. (Dark!Multi character) - i would add every single one of her fics to this list if i could💘

Sinful Devotion - @evansbby

Lloyd promises to let you go, but he demands a depraved repayment. (In other words, Lloyd pops your cherry)- my favourite writer in the whole universe💘

Smothered With Bliss - @whereireid

Is it hard being married to the most influential man in America? You most certainly think it is. — Steve Rogers: Captain America, the heart of his nation, the soul of his country. After returning home from a particularly bad day at work, Steve finally snaps, deciding you need re-educating on how to be the perfect housewife.

The Night - @misshoneybee

Working as the Barber family's nanny is a piece of cake, but what happens when the dad you've been tip-toeing around all year comes home late one night to find you asleep in his bed, wearing his favorite sweater?

Little Miss Red - @anika-ann

Ransom’s looking for a good time tonight, when you walk through the door, he knows he’ll get it. And you? Oh you’ll get it too. He's going to make sure of it.

Unholy Errand - @buckets-and-trees

You're caught in the crosshairs when a hit goes out for your boss. (Dark!Lloyd Hansen + Dark! God The Bounty Hunter + Ransom Drysdale)

What A Shirt Can Tell - @justalonelyslytherin

5+2 times Colin asked 'Is that my shirt?' plus the one time he got asked it. Aka a look through the journey of Colin and his girl, each in which his shirts play an important role.

Start Again - @wkemeup

A chemical spill, uncontrollable desires rushed to the surface, an unbridled need, and the consequences in the aftermath (Steve Rogers)

Daddy’s Little Pet - @sinner-as-saint

You and Steve are the epitome of ‘opposites attract’. He is the American hero, a super soldier who is known for his bravery, and righteousness and for being the one leading the Avengers. You, on the other hand, are a well-known fashion designer in the city. Creator and owner of your own brand, and elite boutique. At first glance, it doesn’t seem like you and Steve would be compatible. But you surprisingly are. And behind closed doors, in secrecy – you two are each other’s solace, each other’s definition of home. He’s your strong, loving and caring man. And you, his lovely, little pet whom he adores more than life itself.

Good Girls And Skype Calls - @youre-deadangel

chris gives you a treat for behaving.

Afternoon Delight - @christowhore

you're steve's live-in housekeeper and find your boss and his friends having a bbq on a heatwave stricken afternoon. they invite you to join them and show you all the pleasurable ways to cool down from the sun. (SoftDark!Steve Rogers + Sam Wilson + Bucky Barnes)

Got You - @hispeculiartreasure

The two of you had grown close over the last year; first as teammates, then as friends. You had been distant at the start, just as he had. Slowly, agonizingly - blood, sweat, and tears were definitely involved - walls were dismantled. A current of trust ran between you, one which caught Steve by surprise. As dense as he could be about matters of the heart, suspicions of his blossoming romantic feelings being mutual had proven true with a simple kiss. (Sex Pollen, Steve Rogers)

Golden Boy - @bucksfucks

you’ve always called steve the golden boy, but he snaps one night and decides to show you he’s anything but. (Roommate!Steve Rogers)

It Must Be That Old Evil Spirit - @vonalyn

There’s something unsettling about his demeanor but you can’t quite put your finger on it. As if there’s something hiding beneath the surface just waiting to pry its way out of the tight shirt across his broad frame and tear your throat out. Maybe it’s your general unease around others when you’re traveling alone, or maybe it’s just him. (Jack-O-Lantern!Ari Levinson)

Stupid Kitty - @onsunnyside

Your father wrongfully entrusted Lloyd to care for you—it’s too bad he’ll never get you back. (Lloyd Hansen x Cat-Hybrid!Reader)

Manners- Or Lack Of Them - @rogerswifesblog

Ransom wants you, the sweet girl at the bar…but you’re not what he expected you to be. (Sub!Ransom Drysdale + Mommy!Reader)

Shadow Boxer - @mypoisonedvine

you’re stuck in the same destructive cycle with ransom, but maybe you don’t want to get out of it. (Angst + Smut, Ransom Drysdale)

It’s Not A Challenge - @gagmebucky

His jaw ticks. “It’s not a challenge, doll,” he bites out. “It’s a warning. If I tried to get inside you, I’d split you in half in the process.” His eyes flicker down, and your nipples are pebbles against the thin, easily-rippable fabric—you’re testing him, and he’s failing. “Goddamn it,” he hisses underneath his breath. “That - that shouldn’t turn you on.” Bristling, he drops his hand and pedals backward—he’s on his last thread, and it’s his sole chance to make a clear-headed decision. (Boxer!Steve Rogers)

Pretty Princess - @frostironfudge

Andy Barber gets jealous when he presumes you shared a room with one of his associates.

Over And Over - @frostironfudge

Ari Levinson is a possessive man, he'll punish you till you apologise.

Such A Good Boy - @lilacevans

You and Ari attend a business meeting, and at the beginning the other boss you're meeting with just assumes that Ari is the one in charge; however, that's not the case. While you look dainty, angelic, like you couldn't even hurt a fly, you're the one who runs the family and will not hesitate to fuck up anyone who stands in your way. (Puppy!Ari Levinson) - one of my favourite fics EVER.💘

Breathe - @buckyownsmylife

The one where the new co-star is obsessed with the idea of making Chris hers, but he makes sure to show her you’re the only one for him.

Justified - @dbnightingale24

Ransom has always been the center of your world you’ve always been the center of his. However, when he can’t change his ways and you’re tired of the heartbreak, is it really so bad if you think it’s best to walk away? Ransom thinks so. - one of the sweetest most talented writers i have ever met💘

My, My, My - @1800jjbarnes

Stevie couldn't help it. Every time he saw you, he felt himself grow heavy in his slacks. You were everything he needed. And he needed you now.

All The Time - @geminixevans-stan

He is one of the most powerful men on earth but there’s more worse than him (Dark!Lloyd Hansen + Dark!Nick Fowler)

Snack - @katherineswritingsblog

he just wants his snack- which is you.

Watchful Eyes - @espinosaurusrexex

When your best friend gets you a new job, cleaning the apartment of the most successful man in New York City, you don't hesitate to accept. The pay is more than good, and the man himself is better than any eye candy you have ever seen. Unbeknownst to you, you've caught his attention just as much. Steve can't keep his mind off you, so much so, that he drives everyone around him insane with his grumpiness when you aren't around. It seems like he has to take matters into his own hands when he realizes, you're too shy to take things further yourself. (CEO!Steve Rogers)

Cherry On Top - @dcllbows

you’ve found your favorite way to help your daddy with his grownup work. (Ddlg, Daddy!Andy Barber)

Voracious - @arilevinsons

The first time he set eyes on you; you were his sudden infatuation. (DarkProfessor!Ari Levinson)

Best Friend’s Dad - @imyourbratzdoll

you've been pining over your best friend's dad and decide to take your chance, knowing he's out and your best friend is asleep, you be a little bit naughty and touch yourself on his bed, not knowing he's coming home early.

The Breeding Ground - @fl0werfae

To others, Ari’s house was a breeding ground for him and his omega, but to him it was just fulfilling her purpose of carrying his pups. (Alpha!Ari Levinson)

My Sweet Pea - @mavsstar

Mr. Levinson lives right next door to you, the sweet, innocent college girl. Little do you know that you're Mr. Levinson's favorite neighbor. He's there every chance you need the slightest of help, maybe a little too much. (Trailer Park Au)

Like A Movie Scene In The Sweetest Dream - @worksby-d

Johnny’s always been on your “no” list, but you've finally agreed to work with him. (Pornstar!Johnny Storm)

Easy As Pie - @navybrat817

You bake pies for Andy, but you're still his favorite treat.

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfic #chxrrys fic recs #fic recs #chris evans fic recs #steve rogers fic recs #steve rogers #ransom drysdale #chris evans smut #andy barber #lloyd hansen #ari levinson #johnny storm #steve rogers smut #ari levinson smut

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dairy-farmer · 2 months ago

Note

God you know what would be fun? Civilian Tim being Supervillian Bait.

Just? Wildly Attractive~✨️

This sharply put together, legs for days, walking competence kink, "I kinda wanna ruin you" secret trainwreck of a mother fucker. Scary brilliant. Can't cook. Will take over your company for funsies and make you beg to get it back. Soft, fluffy looking hair they wanna grab and use to slam his head against the table hard enough to concuss him.

Curse you Drake, and your stupid sexy lil smirk.

He's that exact flavor of Gotham Pretty Boy that means you don't know if you want him DEAD or in your bed. They hate that they're into that. Don't know if they want to step on him or the other way around. Someone's ending up in chains though! Mark their words!

Obviously, Ra's finds it SUPER HOT. The Bats hate it. He'll sweep in, antagonize them, the rip his shirt strategicly open to go lounge in Timothy~♡'s office like a WHORE ™. Yes they're biased! Stop sleeping with THE NEIGHBOR KID. They don't CARE that he's an adult now! You're OLD!!!

But he shan't. Tim is his sexy powerful environmentalist side peice for the century. He sweeps in to take him dancing, fine dining, fuck him incoherent on a bed of fine silks. Leaves him jewels and fancy statues. You know, the usual.

Now LEX on the other hand? Wants to murder fuck him. He's a uppity lil shit. A pretty, pretty, cocky little rat bastard and Lex wants to choke him to death on his own desk. Possibly while fucking him. Set fire to his car and cut the breaks. Stop RUINING HIS BUSINESS VENTURES, YOU LIL SHIT! (No~☆)

He wants to chain him up, monolog at him, then kill him. Also wants him to work for him. ALSO wants to screw his brains out. Would not say no too a... merger, if you will. He really hates that "challenges me" is such a turn on for him. And that Drake is so hard to kill. Fuck it, he's sending another threat bouquet.

And? Look, sometimes business is ugly. It's Gotham. He's young and pretty. People think they can get away with shit. Sometimes you gotta hire someone to... fix, things. An individual like Mr. Wilson.

Or "Daddy" on his phone. Because Tim's a lil shit and if you think he WOULDN'T then maybe you shouldn't keep making jabs at his daddy issues, Deathstroke.

Unfortunately, Wilson is ALSO a bastard. So now it's a game of bastardry chicken. You wanna call him daddy? Fine. Daddy wants to be paid upfront and a handjob..

......aaaand you did it. Well shit. Guess I'm killing the guy. You know what? Yeah. Yeah I think I WILL continously pop in time to time, to be a dirty old man at you, until your composure breaks. Bet you break before I do.

And? It all? Gives the Bats heart palpations? Cause he's not even a Rouge! It's just his love life! And it's threatening to tear Gotham apart! Aaaaaaaaaaa-!!!

-🐼🐼🐼

timmy being supervillain bait is so good❤️❤️

#answered asks #asks #anonymous

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kelcemesoftly · 1 year ago

Note

Request “You know I would die for you, right?” for Trav

Not My Girl

Triggers: swearing, alcohol, angst then fluff

Notes: Thanks so much for this request! I think I went a little overboard, but shhhh. I had a lot of fun writing this one :) Maybe angst is my thing??? Who knows.

Also, as much as I cannot stand the Bengals, I have nothing against any of the players or Logan Wilson. So no hate please ❤️💛

The Chiefs were down by a field goal at the beginning of the fourth quarter. Usually, that wouldn't cause you too much stress, but this was against the Bengals. And historically, the games had come down to the last possession. That thought alone made you feel sick to your stomach. You knew how important this playoff win was to the guys on the team. It would prove to all the haters, all the doubters, that the Chiefs were the real deal, and that Arrowhead would always be Arrowhead.

You watched as Pat, Trav, and the rest of the offense fled onto the field. You were up in the booth with Britt, some of the other wives, and Trav's entire family. Unfortunately, the Eagles hadn't made it this far in the playoffs, and while that was sad for Jason, it meant that his family could come and support Trav while rooting for the Chiefs to pull off a win. "Let's go, babe," you muttered, standing near the see-through glass of the family-style suite. Pat got the ball and threw it to Trav, who successfully made the catch. He gained about ten yards before he was tackled down by Logan Wilson. Only this time, the defensive player was preventing him from getting up right away. At first you felt as if your heart stopped, afraid that Travis had been injured. But, that worry was quickly replaced with utter confusion once he stood up and got in the face of Wilson. You couldn't hear any of the words being exchanged, obviously, but you could see his muscles flex under his jersey, even with as far away as you were. "What the hell?" you whispered, glued to the plexiglass in front of you.

The ref threw up a yellow penalty flag as Wilson shoved Travis, who then reacted out of instinct by shoving the defensive player back. Soon enough, both teams got into a scuffle, and the only reason Travis got out of that mess was because Pat literally pulled him out of it. "What happened?" Britt asked, popping up next to you, her brows furrowed in concern and confusion.

"I have no clue. He hasn't been like this... this mad, in years," you said, shaking your head. At the beginning of his career, Trav had a real quick temper on him, but that had progressively gotten better as the seasons had went on. Sure, he would get heated here and there, but this was something different. Listening to the ref's call, you heard that each player got an unsportsmanlike call, offsetting each other. You reached for your drink and took a long sip, running your fingers through your hair while watching the boys on the field below. Luckily, Travis had remained put together the remainder of that drive, with him scoring a touchdown. Unfortunately, Butker missed the extra point, so the Chiefs were only ahead by a field goal.

Kylie had made you up another drink, and by the time you were half-way through it, the Bengals had tied up the game. "You don't want 15 to have the ball in his hands in the final seconds of this game," Britt said, clapping her hands as the Chiefs' offense took the field once again. You watched them intently, immediately picking up on the fact that Travis was distracted. That altercation must have really rattled him, based on fact that Trav had now dropped three passes.

"Come on, Trav," Jason encouraged, placing his hands on top of his head. The game was down to the final 30 seconds, and the boys still had forty yards to go. Blowing out a deep breath, you bit down on your lip as Britt handed you a shot glass. "It's good luck," she lied, clanking glasses with you and Kylie before all three of you shot it back.

As you reached down for your drink, you shrieked loudly when you saw Travis and Wilson going at it once again at the end of one of their plays, albeit this time it was much more intense. There was clearly yelling going between the both of them, with Travis pointing his finger angrily at the man across from him. "Baby, don't do this. We need you," you begged, swallowing the bile you felt creeping up in your throat. Once again, Pat was able to break up the fight, but not without a flag being thrown. Thankfully, the penalty was only on Wilson that time, otherwise your husband would have been ejected.

"What the hell is his deal?" you asked no one in particular, shaking your head. You were angry that he was doing this because he could have easily jeopardized the game and his team, something you knew he'd regret. And it was a playoff game, to make it worse. You just prayed that nothing else would happen in the remaining seconds of the game.

Britt took your hand in hers and squeezed it as Pat got the ball, scrambling around the pocket until he spotted Trav being wide open. Your husband caught the ball and ran it into the end zone, spiking the ball. He screamed out in happiness and did one of his dances, only being stopped by his teammates embracing him. Pat gripped his arm and dragged him off the field before he could confront his enemy, not wanting there to be a penalty flag on the play to overturn the touchdown. As soon as the touchdown was confirmed, everyone in the booth screamed and cheered. "We're going to the Super Bowl!" Britt screamed, jumping up and down with you.

Everyone in the booth celebrated while the players wrapped up the game, and before you knew it, you were heading down to the field with the other family members in the booth. As soon as you got to the field, your eyes roamed around for your husband. Once you spotted him, you took off running for him. Trav opened his arms and you jumped into them, legs and arms wrapping around his sweaty body. "You did it, baby, you're going to the Super Bowl," you grinned, happy tears streaming down your cheeks. Even though they'd been to three Super Bowls before, winning two of them, the pride and joy you felt for him never got old. Giving him a sweet kiss, you told him how much you loved him before he set you down. He kept his arm securely wrapped around your shoulders as his family hugged him, as well, not letting you go for one second. It wasn't abnormal for him to want to touch you, but he wasn't generally this clingy.

Before you had a chance to ask him what had happened on the field, Wilson began to approach your small group. When Trav saw him, a low, animalistic growl left his throat, and he started to stalk toward him. You tried with all your might to hold him back, scared of what he might do. Unfortunately, you weren't strong enough to do so on your own. Luckily, Jason and Ed were right there. Jason gripped the back of his jersey and Ed stood in front of his son, pushing him back with his hands on Trav's chest. "I think you should give him time to cool off," Ed said, turning his head to speak to Wilson. With a curt nod, he obliged and walked away with his shoulders slumped.

"Travis Michael Kelce," you said firmly, eyes narrowing. You had no idea what the heck was going on, but you weren't going to have him risking his career over a petty football disagreement with someone on another team. When Trav's warming blue hues met yours, his face instantly softened and he swallowed thickly. "What the hell is this about?" you asked, putting your foot down. He shook his head, signaling he didn't want to talk about it on the field in front of all the reporters. You could understand that, so you didn't argue with him. Instead, you continued to celebrate with him and the rest of the guys before they headed to the locker room.

You and the rest of the family waited in the family waiting area while Trav showered and changed. It was eerily quiet between all of you, considering the win that just took place. "He had to have said something non football related. Travis has never been that pissed over a game," Jason commented, holding Ellie in his arms.

You sighed and nodded your head, looking down at your shoes. "Why don't y'all head back to the house? I'll wait for him. Hopefully I can get it out of him and he'll be calm by the time we get home," you suggested, rummaging through your purse to hand Kylie the keys. They agreed and after giving you a hug, shuffled out of the waiting area.

It wasn't too much longer before Travis emerged from the locker room. A small smile crossed your lips, and you offered him a hug and a kiss when he greeted you. Despite how irritated and slightly annoyed you were with him about his altercation with Wilson, you couldn't help but be immensely proud of him. He laced his fingers with yours and led you toward your car.

As soon as he pulled onto the highway, you turned in your seat so that you could properly look at him. "Trav, what happened? This... this anger, this rage, it isn't you. Not anymore," you said gently, stroking the back of his hand that was rested against your thigh.

With a heavy sigh, he glanced toward you and then squeezed your leg before turning his attention back to the highway. "I fucking hate his guts, Y/N."

You chuckled humorlessly, scrunching up your nose. "I gathered that from your two interactions with him, babe. Why do you hate him? You haven't had an issue with him in the past," you pointed out, placing your palm against the back of his hand before lacing your fingers with his.

"He made degrading and derogatory comments about you, babe. Comments that I wasn't going to fucking stand for. I don't give a fuck what he says about me. He wants to comment on my game? My appearance? My personality? Go for it. But he will not speak that way about my wife," he seethed, face reddening.

You swallowed thickly, shaking your head. "What did he say?"

"It doesn't matter. All that matters is that he said filthy things that he should have never said. I will never forgive him, Y/N."

"I appreciate you sticking up for me, babe. I really do. But you could have been ejected from the game. The playoff game, Travis! You would regret that for the rest of your life," you said, your free hand flying into the air.

"No, I wouldn't. You know I would die for you, right? Getting kicked out of one fucking game would be nothing."

And as much as you wanted to argue with him, as much as you wanted to say he would regret it in the long run, you couldn't find it in your heart to yell at him or be mad. He was defending your honor, being the most amazing husband and person you could have asked for. Instead of yelling at him, you leaned over and pressed your lips to his cheek. "I love you. To the moon and back."

"You already know, baby girl. I love you more."

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

Taglist: @kelcemenow @hearts4papayas @keiva1000

#travis kelce #travis kelce blurb #travis kelce imagine #travis kelce oneshot

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biting-miguel-ohara · 2 months ago

Text

Work - Wade Wilson x ftm!Reader

A/N: The evil brain thoughts are back, so I’m just gonna post this and run 🫣 I hope this is good. I’m not too good at fics like this, hence the evil brain thoughts, but I hope it’s decent. Let me know if I missed any warnings

I did ftm!Reader with no smut, but I’m more than willing to write something short and smutty about the aftermath of this fic. It just didn’t really fit with the tone I was trying to go for in this one, you know?

Written for this request

CW: blood mentions; killing mentions; keeping secrets; Reader is called babycakes, baby boy, and babes; lots of blood mentions; exposed secrets; hugs; murder mentions; implied exploration of a new kink; implied smut; possibly ooc Wade

797 words

Ever since you and Wade officially started dating, he’d stopped taking jobs as much. Or, if he did take them, he’d hide them from you. Completing them in secret and showing up without a spot of blood on him.

You knew why he did it. Living the life he did wasn’t easy. He killed people. Mostly bad people, but sometimes the line between good and bad wasn’t so easily drawn. Sometimes he was the bad person.

And he didn’t want to drag you into that.

You’d talked about it once. Late at night, during one of his vulnerable moments. He’d mentioned how he was trying to do better for you. So that you wouldn’t have to live with the knowledge of what he’d done.

You’d been too shy to say anything then. You’d just barely started dating. How could you bring up your secret, especially when he was being so vulnerable for you?

So you kept quiet and let him do his thing. Most of the time, it worked out. He’d do his jobs on the side and it only bled into your life sometimes.

But that sometimes was dangerous.

It all had to come to a head eventually. You just didn’t expect it to happen the way it did.

It started as it normally did. With a bang.

You’re in the kitchen of your small shared apartment when the front door slams open with a crash. Wade stands in the doorway, fully suited up and dripping blood.

Your first instinct is to gawk. Then to panic.

“Oh my god! Wade! Are you alright?”

You hurry over to him, helping him over to the couch. He sits down with a groan, patting your shoulder. “Hey, hey, babycakes. No need to worry. Most of it’s not mine.”

That makes you stop in your tracks. It’s not his blood?

You stare at him. He’s sitting. On the couch. Covered in a mix of his and someone else’s blood.

You scramble to the kitchen to grab a washcloth. Both with the intent to help and to hide the heat that shoots through your body.

It’s not something you’re proud of. Especially knowing how Wade feels about his job. But you just can’t help it. Even just the thought has you wet enough to be uncomfortable.

You wet the washcloth in the sink and return to the living room. Wade’s peeled off his uniform, letting you see the full extent of the blood smears. It’s all over his chest and thighs.

You swallow thickly. This is going to be tough.

You start to wipe the blood off his chest and he leans back against the couch. “Babycakes, you know I can just take a shower, right?”

“Yeah, but…” you falter. What are you supposed to say? Hey Wade, I know you like to keep your murder job from me, but I actually find it really hot.

“What?”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. You have a habit of mumbling when you think. You forgot he liked to listen. “Nothing.”

“No, no. You’re not getting away from this so easily. You clearly said—“

“Yeah, well—“ You can feel your face getting hot. Embarrassment and shame creeping up your spine.

Wade notices. “Hey, hey, hey. Babycakes, calm down. Just talk to me.”

He grabs your hands, pulling you down into a hug. You bury your face against his rough skin. “I just… I know how you feel about your job and all. So I tried to keep it hidden. I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anything.”

“Uncomfortable? Uncomfortable? Baby boy, you just said I look hot! How am I gonna find that uncomfortable?”

You pull back, giving him a confused look. “But, I thought—“

“Babes, I was worried about you.” He gives you a comforting smile. “If you’re not worried about the murder, then I’m not worried about the murder. It’s gone from my mind.”

You relax a bit. “You sure?”

He nods. “It’s gone. Vanished from my mind. In fact, what were we talking about again?”

You laugh and fully relax against him. “Okay, I get it. No need to be worried or whatnot. I get it.”

Wade hugs you, just resting for a moment. Just holding you close. Then he speaks, a michevious tone to his voice. “You really think it’s hot?”

“Wade!” Your face heats up.

He laughs. “Hey, all I’m saying is if you find it hot and I find it hot…” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

You hesitate for only a moment. “Alright, fine. But I get to be on top this time.”

“Deal!” You’re scooped up and carried into the bedroom without a moment‘s hesitation.

Wade starts taking more jobs after that, coming home covered in blood more often than not. And you? You fucking love it.

#deadpool #wade wilson #ftm!reader #dividers by saradika #trans male reader #tw blood mention #tw murder mention #tw killing mention #wade wilson x ftm!reader #wade wilson x you #wade wilson x reader #wade wilson x trans male reader #deadpool x ftm!reader #deadpool x you #deadpool x reader #deadpool x trans male reader #x ftm!reader #x ftm reader #ftm reader

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not-too-many-eyes · 7 months ago

Text

I think Eagle is a really interesting character since her story has a lot of fun nuances I think.

She’s established very quickly from design alone to be a very much be a dillgent good girl scout, She acts responsibly, when you first meet her she says that she’ll do everything to be the best, she calls Vertin “commander.” Very much emulating soldiers and the millatary here.

The Dreams do some more exploration of this idea. With how Eagle was rejected from the boy scouts, and how in both her and in the voicelines she want’s to prove that girls can do it just as well as the boys.

Instructor: I’m sorry, kid. I’m touched by your persistence, but we only want boys.

Instructor: The training of the boy scouts is going to be very harsh. There’s no way a girl like you can make it through.

Instructor: Even if you strain every strength to keep up, we won’t take you in.

Eagle: I will prove I can do better than the boys.

Eagle: I will prove that girls are also qualified for the scouts.

But this scene exists alongside the Rest of The Game which is very interested in exploring and and dissecting this sort of millataristic view of the world. This exists alongside how her father dissapeared when he was serving in the milltary. This exists alongside Click. This exists alongside Sonneto. Her interview even discusses this a bit:

Pandora Wilson: Now that you've joined Lorentz, do you have any new plans in life?

Eagle: I... I'd like to excel in what I'm doing now.

Pandora Wilson: ...Maybe you can try and relax first, just like the other children do.

Ultimately she’s doing all of this to chase her father, even if she ends up in the same spot where she dissapeared or if she deprives herself from the relaxation and fun that children her age be having. What that Instructor said isn’t just “she isn’t strong enough to be a girl scout” it’s “she’s not strong enough to see her father again.”

This also interacts with the games themes of progressing into the future vs retreating into the past.

Eagle: I like photos very much. It’s the Arcane Skill that allows people to “never fade.”

Eagle, Hobby: All the soldiers were collecting badges, so was father, wasn't he? When I collect enough badges, I will give him all of them.

The chasing of a past to the point that it leads to self-destruction or sadness. Not as heavily present as it is in other characters but still something that Eagle’s story is discussing. And yet even in the dream they acknowledge that her being a girl scout is different from her seeing her father again. It’s just one means to that end. I really like it.

#reverse 1999 #reverse 1999 eagle #metaposting

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unlust-fvck · 10 months ago

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hi bestie!!! 🫶🏼 i’d like to formally request more sub!schlatt pls

you’re doing chores around the house and schlatt does a task for you, when he’s done you call him a a “good boy” and go about your day but he can’t stop thinking about it 🤧 he does a million other tasks for you to hear you say it again but you don’t bc you don’t get what he’s in it for yk

he starts being more… obedient

lots of “yes ma’am,” looking to you for approval before he does anything, being a good pup

i rly just want my subby baby boy pls

headcannons or a fic or a blurb or whatever I just NEED sub!schlatt

thank you!!! 🫶🏼

oh my god vic you are so right.

he’s my little niño🤲🏻

**use of ma’am targeted at reader**

it was sunday which meant one thing; chore day.

though schlatt was still curled up in bed, a pillow tight in his grasp, you were already gathering all of the laundry strewn around the house.

with one load in the washer, you started to sweep and dust; waiting to vacuum until schlatt was awake.

as you got wrapped up in your chores, you didn’t realize the creaking of the bed and the footsteps that followed.

arms were placed around you as you wiped down the counter and you jumped.

“jesus, hey baby,” you said with a breathless smile as you craned your neck back to peck schlatt’s cheek.

he smiled sleepily and pulled off. it was very evident he was still half asleep as he mumbled something quietly.

“what’s that?” you hummed, continuing to wipe down the counter. he was quiet. that’s when you turned to face schlatt completely.

he was in his typical sleep attire; his wilson hoodie and a pair of plaid boxers. his hair was disheveled and his eyes squinted.

“i said goodmorning.” he said with a small grin, starting to come out of his sleepy trance.

you smiled back, “goodmorning to you too.” you paused for a moment. “hey! don’t get all lovey with me so that you don’t have to do chores.” you said firmly. “go wash up, mkay? you’re on garbage duty.”

schlatt groaned and sauntered off to the bathroom.

it wasn’t long before he was behind you again, grabbing at your waist as you finally made breakfast.

“be patient, sweetheart. did you even take the garbage out yet?” you asked, your eyes not leaving the frying pan.

“mhm, it’s all outside.” he responded, his chin rested on your shoulder.

“good boy,” you praised, reaching back to rub his hair.

schlatt wasn’t sure what had clicked inside of him when those two words left your lips. he knew you didn’t mean it in that way, right?

schlatt tried to ignore the fluttering sensation in his chest and play it off as a joke as he pulled off of you and grabbed a cup of coffee.

"d-do you want some?" he painfully sputtered. he mentally cursed himself for sounding so stupid.

"yeah that would be nice, thank you love," you said sweetly.

schlatt was a mess now, every pet name buzzed around his head and straight down to his stomach. it was embarrassing really; the two of you had been together for years and he still got flustered over things like this.

oddly enough, schlatt loved the feeling and found himself doing anything he could to hear those two words fall from your mouth.

"j, baby, can you please clean the bathroom after we eat?" you asked gently.

schlatt nodded quickly as he poured your cup of coffee. "yes ma'am." he responded, passing you your cup of coffee.

the rest of the day went relatively smoothly, at least you thought so.

schlatt continued mindlessly doing tasks; changing the bedsheets, finishing off the laundry, cleaning the mirrors throughout the house.

you were surprised with how motivated he seemed. towards the end of the night, the two of you sat on the couch cuddled up next to each other.

"you were really good today j," you mumbled into his shoulder as his eyes focused on the tv screen.

you felt his breath hitch and a small shudder as he exhaled.

you picked your head up to look at him confusedly. it started to piece together in your head but you wouldn't make that evident.

"you were a huge help baby, seriously," you spoke again.

schlatt couldn't help it as he buried his face into your lap out of embarrassment.

you chuckled to yourself and ran your fingers through his messy curls,

"good boy." you whispered.

#jays fics !!#schlatt x reader #jschlatt #jschlatt x reader #chuckle sandwich fluff #chuckle sandwich #fanfiction #jschlatt fanfic #schlatt fanfic #schlatt fluff

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the-hopeless-haze · 2 years ago

Text

Worried About You

Chapter 4 of If You Want It, You Can Bleed On Me (House x reader)

“I need Vicodin,” Greg says to you, walking into your office. Well. Your office when you were here. You scowl slightly at the day-old coffee in your line of vision and think about how you’ll be scolded by the other people you share the office with the rest of the week when you inevitably forget that it’s there.

“Funny. I’m not your dealer,” you say.

You and Greg had hit it off, so to speak. Much to everyone’s chagrin and surprise, you continued seeing each other inside and outside the hospital. It wasn’t something either of you spoke about. Psychiatrists (or psychiatric doctors of nursing) are the worst patients and the best repressors. You did what you had to to be able to function like a member of society, but you were as fucked up as the rest of them. And you see Greg is similar. USA-renowned, if not world-renowned, diagnostician—but that was all he had besides a bum leg and a healthy dose of chronic depression and reliance on opiates to function.

When you finally had sex -heterosexual sex, dick in pussy sex - it was a frenzy fueled by alcohol and weeks long of teasing, and you saw glimpses of his leg in the midst of it and he saw the scars scattering your arms, but beyond the “oh, so you tried to kill yourself” he said to you when he edged you on the brink of orgasm the umpteenth time (and oh, boy, was that a mood killer) there were no comments about either.

But he kept you around and you weren’t entirely certain of why. It’s only been a month or so, and he’s not calling you his girlfriend or telling you he loves you, but he’ll still wine and dine you before railing you. And you don’t know if it’s out of obligation, if he feels like even though you’re not a hooker he has to pay you for sex, or if he genuinely enjoys your company. You think about how dissimilar you are to Wilson and how that’s the only person he keeps close. You wonder if maybe you remind him of his live-in ex that you’re almost certain he never got over. It’s a good time though, regardless. You make each other laugh. You both love The Rolling Stones. You begrudgingly agreed to be dragged to a monster truck show one night (“Wilson won’t come with me” he whined) and in return you made him go with you to see a local band perform that he wasn’t the slightest bit interested in.

It was that sacrificing that made you pretty close to a real couple. Wilson pointed it out to you and he no doubt pointed it out to Greg. You made a snarky comment about his marriage and you wonder if you should compare notes with Greg to make sure you’re both not using the same lines.

You don’t know why you keep him around either, so it’s fair. It’s nice to have a fuck buddy, you suppose, and it’s also nice to almost like them as a human being rather than a sex toy. It’s certainly not because you think you can cure him, because you know you can’t. You wanted sex and you didn’t want a rehash. All things considered, he was a thorough lover and cared about getting you off as much as himself, which somewhat surprised you given how selfish he can be in other settings.

It’s not a bad arrangement. At least not right now.

But you’re fucked and you know it. It’s why you were drawn to work with kids in the first place. At least you’d always have a leg up on them. Someone out there thought you were sane enough to be rent an apartment and be a licensed prescriber.

Oh. Speaking of.

“Come on. You have a license to prescribe. Just once,” he begs.

“Yeah. No. I think you’ve got me confused with Wilson.”

“You’re much hotter,” he offers.

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“It got you in my bed.”

You smirk, shaking your head. “Yeah. Fair. But that’s as far as it’ll get you. You can be lackadaisical with your license, but I’d like to keep mine until I want to retire.”

“How’d I get with such a goody-two-shoes? Even Wilson will play.”

“He’s not now, apparently. What gives?”

“I bet Cuddy clinic hours that I wouldn’t take Vicodin for a week. They’re all convinced I’m an addict.”

You snort. “Okay. I hate to point it out so bluntly, but this is prime behavior for addiction. Searching all channels to get a fix because you can’t go a week without it?”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah. Okay. I’m going to do the week. But I need someone on standby. I’m only doing the week, and I don’t know that I’ll be able to get it prescribed afterward.”

“Chronic pain is outside my scope of practice. Best I could do is a suboxone MAT and say I’m detoxing you off Vicodin and keeping your substance use in check, but even that’s pushing it. There’s a conflict of interest.”

“You can’t keep the clinical and the personal separate?”

“Nope. Could you? If I was your patient this week, would you be able to? Bringing your ex-girlfriend into this is what got you into this mess. Don’t bring me in to try to fix it.”

“I’m not asking you to fix it. And you have a medical background. I’m asking you to write the order I’m asking for. I know how to manage my pain.”

“Why don’t you get through this week first? Then maybe you’ll take me up on the suboxone,” you say, crossing your arms.

“You think I’m addicted?”

“Jesus Christ, Greg, you’re smarter than this. You know what happens if you consistently take opiates. I know you need them for pain. I’m not denying that. But to think you’re immune to the side effects? It’s habit-forming. You know this. You’ve been taking it for years. You’re going to have withdrawal symptoms. You should be doing this in a detox facility if anything.”

“I work in a hospital. Opiate withdrawal never killed anyone, anyway,” he says, seeing no point in bluffing to you any longer.

“Maybe not. But you’ll suffer. I’ll meet you halfway, hm?” You say, looking up at him. “I’ll prescribe you comfort meds for the week. Ease you through it. Mirapex, vistaril, zofran, clonidine, bentyl…”

“Most of those aren’t exactly in your scope. If you want to be technical.”

“If I lose my license for any of those the board has far too much time on their hands. But you’re right. I’ll get Chase to sign them off.”

“Chase?”

“He’s the most desperate to get laid out of the three. I bat my eyelashes enough he won’t even question who the scripts are for.”

“Chase? Look at him. If he’s not getting laid none of us should be.”

You scoff. “I guess pretty boys do it for you, but not for me. But no…I can tell. He reeks of desperation.”

“It’s desperation to be liked by authority. Not desperation for pussy. He’s swimming in it.”

“Okay. We’ll see if he folds,” you say, winking.

Greg sighs. “Is this some kind of game?”

“What isn’t, with you? It’s all games, it’s all puzzles.”

“Why Chase?”

“I told you. I know you’d rather me go to Cameron, but unfortunately, I don’t think flirting would get very far with her. Foreman will never fold.”

“You don’t have other doctors you work with you could ask?”

“Greg, it’s just fucking comfort medications that you probably will have too much pride to even touch. Again. Not risking my career for you and letting people that actually respect me think I’m a nutcase because I slept with you.”

“So… you want to fuck Chase. Right?”

“Where in that insecure little man brain did you think of that? It’s your other head, right? I must want the sexy Australian because all the other girls are doing him? Because I want to ask him to prescribe meds? For you?”

He shrugs. “Matter of time. ‘Oh, I had to blow him, that’s the only way I could get him to do this’ or ‘oh, honey, good news, he said if I sleep with him three times a week he’ll prescribe your Vicodin’.”

“Stop with the immature bullshit. If I wanted to fuck him, I’d just leave you, not worry about the meds, and do it. Grow up, Greg,” you mutter, walking away.

“Then why don’t you?” he challenges, hating himself as the words leave his mouth, hating how unattractively juvenile he was coming across. But there were reasons, the need to push you away to see if he would get pulled back, the need to be contrary, the need to know. Know what, exactly, he’s not sure.

He already knows he’s in for one of the worst weeks of his life. Even if the withdrawal symptoms are mild, he’s going to be in terrible, unmanageable pain, and all the Tylenol and Motrin in the world aren’t going to even come close to touching it. And he’s going to be more miserable than usual. No pain relief. No euphoria from the high when he takes just one… or two… or three extra than he needs. He knows he’s addicted. He tries to roll it off his back, saying it doesn’t matter, it shouldn’t change perceptions of him, it’s something he needs for pain, and it doesn’t affect his ability to practice medicine.

But sometimes he’s afraid. When James looks at him in concern but doesn’t offer any solutions because there aren’t any real ones, are there? He needs opiates for pain. Nothing else will work. Whether it’s pure heroin or your gold-standard synthetic hippy bullshit medication-assisted treatment… it’s still an opiate. Naloxone embedded in the pill or not. Having to go to a clinic to get dosed and having to have checks and balances on his use or not. It’s still an opiate. There’s still a stigma. It still pinpoints his pupils, lowers his respiratory rate, and hopefully, hopefully, takes the edge off so he can function but he knows. Addiction isn’t his specialty, he never wanted it to be, but he knows. One day it’ll be his last Vicodin, or the Vicodin won’t work anymore, and hey, you know what’s instantaneous? Spinal morphine. Can only use that card once or twice, have to tell Wilson he’s in excruciating pain and guilt him into enabling. He’ll only go so far. And then…well, then it’s IV heroin or fentanyl, whichever is easier to get, whichever is cheaper.

Greg knows that addiction treatment centers are revolving doors. He knows that you saw the same people back and forth and back and forth sign in and sign out, sign in and sign out. Change their medication plans a million times. And some of them still died anyway.

He’s afraid. He’s afraid of dying by his own hand by accident, alone and blue, nodding off forever. Sometimes he wishes for it, an end to the pain, but he also doesn’t want people to find him like that. A predictable end to a predictable story. World-renowned diagnostician died the same way a poor broke junkie did on the streets. Hooked on drugs, overshot it.

And it’s not that he thinks he’s better than those people. He knows he is those people. Even prior to his disability he dabbled in drugs, never enough to create a habit but enough to definitely indicate the potential of a problem. He’d tried almost every illicit substance “just to see how it felt” by your age. It feels good. Drugs feel good. It’s how they work. And your brain wants to feel good. It’s how they keep working and you keep using.

He knows. He’s in a vicious cycle he’ll never claw his way out of.

And you know it, too.

And yet you’re wasting your time fighting with him instead of walking away.

Why?

He doesn’t know that.

“Yeah. Why don’t I fuck him?” you snark back, turning on your heel and walking back toward him, drawing him out of his pity party and back into the misery he created for no reason other than to drag you down with him, make you choke on it with him. “I don’t want to. That’s why. I want to fuck you, although believe me, that thought is getting less and less appealing every time you open that fucking mouth and speak.”

“It does have better uses,” he quips, shrugging, almost visibly relaxing at hearing he was chosen, that he hadn’t scared you off yet.

You roll your eyes. “When does the detox start?”

“Now. It’s been a couple of hours.”

“So you wanted to kick it off and try to put both of us in a shitty mood to start with? Not your brightest idea, huh?” you ask.

He doesn’t say anything and you nod, feeling slightly more in control now that you rendered him silent without any arguments. “Go home. You can’t think clearly if you’re going to be actively detoxing.”

“I still have to make them think I can function without it,” he says after pausing. He would’ve lied to you too, put up a façade with you too, but that’s the thing about addiction. It’s easy to hide dependence to people who don’t know what to look for, but you do. And you would smell it on him.

“I thought you didn’t care what people think?”

“I don’t.”

“Then why take the bet at all?”

“I’ll get out of clinic hours.”

“Right. You would never do something like this to prove a point,” you say sarcastically, leading him out of the office. —————- “Why are you with him?” Chase asks. “And you care enough about him to ask me to use my medical license for a script.”

“You’ll see I don’t care enough about him to risk using mine,” you counter. “It’s comfort meds. Just write the scripts and I’ll leave you alone and we can go back to never talking, which is honestly how I prefer it.”

“I’ve done nothing to you.”

“Right,” you mutter. “I’ve heard enough, though.”

“Does he… what does he say about me?” he asks, a look between bewildered and terrified crossing his face.

You laugh, shaking your head. “Forget I said anything. You’re fine, I’m sure, I just don’t want to be entangled in the team. I already work with Wilson. One facet of House’s life needs to be separate from me.”

“Right. So you’re asking me to prescribe him medications.”

“As a doctor. Which is your job,” you point out. You sigh, looking at the pretty blond man sitting in front of you. Maybe Greg was right to be afraid. Most women your age would be begging to spread their legs at the thought of carrying this man's children. He's more stable, at least comes off that way, and he doesn't have an addiction and a crippled leg.

“Why stay with him if you know he’s an addict?”

Why are you staying?

You look at him for a second, reading his face. “You hate people that struggle with addiction, don’t you?”

“I wouldn’t say I hate them. I just think they don’t realize the pain they cause and it’s unfair to the sober people in their life.”

“Everyone is someone’s burden,” you say.

But why did you take him on?

“So you think he’s going to detox.”

“I know he’s going to detox. Which is why. Once again. I’m asking you to prescribe him comfort medication for the aforementioned detox.”

“You guys really like each other, huh?”

Why did he take you on?

“No. I want my week to not be miserable. This might lessen it a little bit.”

“Oh, and you’re deflecting just like he would.”

“Just prescribe me the damn meds, Chase.”

“You’re going to be miserable anyway,” he says, shrugging as he takes out his script pad. “You owe me one.”

You know he's not wrong.

“Yeah. You’ll get a psych consult on the house,” you agree.

“Why’d you ask me?”

You sigh. “Can’t ask Wilson. Too close. So it had to be one of you three. Foreman just wouldn’t. Cameron would ask me too many questions and she’d tell everybody.”

“And me?”

“Process of elimination, really. Thank you, you know," you say, deciding to leave out the part where he gets off on sucking metaphorical dick for the chance at appealing to authority. Sometimes you wish you were as crass as House. You come up with some good ones if you could only find the guts to just say them.

“He’s not going to take them.”

“Probably not. But I’m doing my part.”

“As what? His girlfriend?”

“His… friend,” you clarify, and you walk out of the office with the scripts in tow to fill at the pharmacy. Later you hand them to him and he takes them without a word. He opens all the bottles, takes one of each pill in his hand and he pops them dry. Terrible for his esophagus, you tell him, and he mutters something about how he’s wrecked his liver and everything else has to catch up. He opens a bottle of wine and you lean against his chest, barely processing the cheap soap opera flashing in front of you on the TV. He's already sweating, you can feel his shirt damp against your cheek. You don’t know why you’re here. You don’t know why he made a show of taking all those pills in front of you. Maybe to show your efforts were appreciated without having to say the words, even if he thought it was stupid. Maybe it was a desperate attempt to make this all suck less. Maybe it was because this was bending the rules a little, a detox with help, however minor, and he always wanted to see how far he could push before the consequences could roll in. Let’s cheat a little. Instead of a slice of pizza on a diet let’s have a hydroxyzine in a cold turkey detox.

He asked you to come over tonight but he hasn’t said much of anything or initiated much either. Why does he want you here? To know he’s not alone this time, that you’re willing to face the brunt of this pain with him when it returns, like Stacy was unwilling to?

You don’t know.

You don’t want to know. It’s best he keeps that information in his own head where it belongs. You don’t want to get too attached, too close, too entangled. This is fine how it is.

But you still wake up drenched in sweat that isn’t yours.

#house md x reader #house x reader #greg house x reader #gregory house x reader #greg house x you #house x you #gregory house x you #house md #house md fanfiction

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avocado-writing · 28 days ago

Text

Kinktober #26

26. Pegging // Edgeplay // Seduction (Logan Howlett x Reader x Wade Wilson)

“Not once?”

“No,” says Logan, the timbre of his voice suggesting that Wade had better drop this subject. Wade, being Wade, doesn’t.

“You’ve really never even had one prostate orgasm? Aren’t you like, two hundred years old?”

Logan growls as he drinks his beer. You exchange a look with Wade across the table, brows raising as one. Yeah, you’re pretty surprised too. But then, thinking about it… Logan is usually the one doing the fucking, whether it’s you or Wade, not being fucked. At least not that way.

Hmm. You tap your fingernails on the tabletop, one at a time, drumming with each second which ticks by.

“Do you want to?” you ask, and coming from you, Logan almost snorts beer out of his nose. Wade tries not to light up like this is the best idea he’s ever heard.

He doesn’t say no, though. Instead he narrows his eyes. He’s thinking.

Logan doesn’t approach it again that night - the conversation instead turning to something asinine (Wade’s fault) and lighthearted (yours)… but when the three of you are in bed a couple of days later, and he’s kissing up your neck, Wade’s fingers walking along his spine… he pulls back.

“Who’d do it?” he asks. The two of you immediately know what he means, but Wade can’t help teasing.

“Who’d do what, Peanut?”

Logan growls again and you think he’s going to call off the whole thing, but you tangle your fingers in his hair to get his attention.

“Me, baby. It’d be me. I have something that’s a good starter.”

Wade nods and pats his junk.

“For sure. If you took all this for your first time, you’d be ripped in half I think, Peanut.”

Logan goes to snap something at Wade but you’ve been waiting for him to say something dumb, so you shove the dildo you’ve fished out of the drawer straight into his mouth to shut him up. It’s only six inches, not the biggest one you own, but a nice introduction for something like this.

“Get that ready, you goddamn nuisance. I need to go find the harness.”

Wade grumbles and removes it with a pop, grabbing the lube and nodding to the closet.

“It’s hanging up on my side, between my shirt that says ‘baby slut’ and my maid outfit,” he states, as easily as if he’s stating the colour of the sky. Logan watches as the two of you move in tandem, getting things ready, his knuckles going white as he grips and releases the bedsheets over and over in anticipation. When Wade slips his fingers in between his legs his growl is only gentle, letting himself be spread and worked open. You can tell from Logan’s face he’s not used to the strange intrusion but he doesn’t mind it, in fact the more Wade moves his fingers in and out of his hole the more relaxed he gets, his mouth falling into a little ‘o’ of pleasure.

“You okay, big boy?” Wade asks, as you take the readied silicone cock and tuck it into your harness. Logan nods and Wade retreats, allowing you to line up your fake dick with his needy hole.

“Tap out if you need to, it’s okay if you don’t like it,” you say, gently. Logan doesn’t strike you as the kind of man who’ll tap out at all, but you need to let him know he can’t just suffer in silence. You don’t draw attention to the way Wade threads his fingers through Logan’s and Logan squeezes them, a quiet act of support and reassurance.

You push in and Logan throws his head back, heavy cock bobbing up against his happy trail and smearing pre on his stomach. You grin as your hips fit against his. It’s comfortable here, his thighs pressed up against yours, a strange 180 on how you usually are in bed.

“Feel good, baby?” you fuck him with gentle little movements, nudging the cockhead against that spot inside of him, and he huffs out an enthusiastic breath. Wade reaches over to slowly stroke his cock and Logan jumps like he’s just touched an electric current.

“Fuck…” he growls, slinging an arm over his eyes as his body gets stimulated in a whole new way. You’re glad he trusts the two of you enough to let you do this, help him have new experiences.

“Can you take more?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, baby, okay,” you sigh, and begin to move your hips properly, dragging your cock out to the top and then slamming it back into Logan’s hole. He grunts and huffs with every movement, cock jerking wildly to Wade’s touch.

“Look at you, honey badger! Taking your first pegging like a champ. I’d finished by this point, so I’m impressed that—”

Before he can get to the end of his sentence, Logan comes so hard that it hits Wade in the goddamn face. All you can do is look at the scene with a grin so wide it hurts your face.

“Welp, that’ll be the prostate orgasm,” Wade mutters, gathering the spend off of his face with his fingers and then licking them clean. Logan shoots him a look.

“Stop goddamn talking, Red.”

“Okiedokie. Just this once.”

“Enjoy it?” you ask with a little laugh, pulling out of Logan’s hole. He considers this for a moment as his senses come back.

“Not bad,” he surmises. You and Wade exchange a twinned look of victory.

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cevansbrat0007 · 2 years ago

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The Green Light

Summary: Full Story! Andy is over the moon when you finally get the green light to be intimate again after the birth of your babies. But how do you explain to him that you're not quite comfortable with your post-pregnancy body just yet? Check out the sequel: The Green Light Afterglow.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Light Smut, Daddy Kink, Insecure Reader, Discussions of Post-Pregnancy Body, Discussions of Intimacy, Slight Lactation Kink Reference, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: I know this took a while. Thank you all for your patience and I sincerely hope it's okay. Prompt courtesy of an anonymous reader. Part of my ongoing Growing Pains Series. Warnings subject to change. All mistakes are my own. Please let me know your thoughts!

___

“Well, I’ve gotta tell you, my dear, by all appearances you’ve healed just fine.” You let out a sigh as Dr. Wilson, your OBGYN, removes the speculum. God, how you hated that thing. “You can go ahead and sit up.” You watch as he removes his gloves to make some notes on his mobile workstation. “Everything looks good. How have you been feeling lately? Raising four kids is no easy feat, especially when half of them are newborns.”

“Andy and I try to split the shifts as best we can. If he’s helping with the twins then I’ve got the older girls, and vice versa.”

“That’s good. One thing I’ve always liked about the two of you is that you believe in teamwork. You’d be surprised at how many couples don’t.” He makes a few more notes. “And how many hours of sleep would you say you get a night? Ballpark it for me if you can.”

“Um…” You have to think about that one. “Maybe five. Yeah, I would say about five hours a night. And I can occasionally squeeze in a quick nap during the day when the twins are sleeping. It doesn’t happen all of the time, but it’s better than nothing.”

The older man nods his head. “And how are Bianca and Katrina adjusting to the new additions? And by the way, don’t forget that you promised to show me pictures, because I certainly haven’t.” Dr. Wilson looks up from his computer and offers you a warm smile.

“I haven’t forgotten, don’t worry.” You tell him with a chuckle. “And they’re okay. Bianca loves to hold them all the time. And Katrina is enjoying being a big sister – she’s very helpful. She wants to play with them so bad, but she doesn’t quite get that they’re still a little too young.”

“I see. And is she still threatening to put A.J. outside?” The corners of his eyes crinkle as he struggles not to laugh just like he had when you’d first relayed your three-year-old’s initial reaction to your pregnancy reveal.

“Oh, God. She’s only made that threat twice I think since we’ve brought them home. Once when he wouldn’t stop crying. And then again when she wanted to cuddle with me while I was in the middle of a feeding. Other than that, she’s been fine. He’s growing on her.”

“Glad to hear it.” He mutters. “That’s usually how it goes. Give it a few years, and I bet they’ll be the best of friends.”

God, you sure hoped so. Just last night you had a dream about finding your little boy out in the woods. Except he’d somehow grown a beard, making him look like a baby mountain man. And, of course, he had been clutching that damn blankie too!

“Well, you’ll be happy to know that I’m officially giving you the all-clear to resume any and all physical activity. If you have any concerns after we’re done here, you know I’m only a phone call away.”

Thank goodness! You couldn’t wait to start working out again. You were tired of rocking stretchy pants and maternity clothes.

Your phone buzzes in your purse as Dr. Wilson finishes up whatever else he’s typing. It goes on for a while before it finally stops, only to resume buzzing seconds later.

If you were a betting woman, and you were, you’d put your money on the person behind all the constant buzzing being none other than your husband, Andrew. You knew he’d been waiting for this day. Your man had been extra giddy this morning. So much in fact that you could’ve sworn he’d clicked his heels on his way out the door.

___

Twenty Minutes Later…

You wait to check your phone until after your appointment is over and you're safely back in your car. According to your phone, you have two missed calls from Andy Bear, along with three new texts.

Andy Bear: Hey, baby girl. How’d the appointment go? Did we get the all clear?

Andy Bear: Can you answer your phone, please? I want to hear your sweet voice when you tell me the good news.

Andy Bear: C'mon! You’ve got me dancing on pins and needles right now. Call me.

You shake your head and then dial your man. He answers on the second ring.

“There you are, sweetness! I was starting to get worried there for a moment.” The genuine concern in his voice has you playfully rolling your eyes.

“Relax, Andy. Sometimes these appointments can take a while. It doesn’t mean anything is wrong, Dr. Wilson is just being thorough.” You check your appearance in the rearview mirror, noting that the bags under your eyes seem to look better than they have in days. “That’s part of the reason he’s been my OBGYN for so long, because he’s good at what he does.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. He’s great.” You know he's not being dismissive on purpose, it’s just that he’s chomping at the bit to hear one key piece of information. “How’s your little body? Did we get the green light?”

Ahh, and there it was. Sometimes Andrew Barber was like a dog with a fucking bone. And only your husband would refer to your body as being “little” when you were still walking around sporting maternity wear.

“I’ve been cleared for all physical activity. Which means I can finally start working out again and –”

“Fuck, yeah we did!” He cheers into the receiver, loud enough to make you wince. “Alright, baby girl, that settles it. BiBi and KitCat are going to my sister’s for a sleepover and the twins will stay at grandma’s. Meanwhile, I’m gonna leave the office early to pick us up some dinner. How about we celebrate with some surf and turf?”

“Oh my god, Andrew! We are not leaving our two newborns at your mother’s house for the night. That’s too much!”

“What if she already said yes?” You have no doubt that your unrepentant husband is smiling hard enough to crack a tooth right about now.

“You didn’t.” Your head drops to the steering wheel with a light thunk.

“Oh, I did.” The sound of an eager chuckle spills across the other line. “Ma and Bill are happy to keep Rory and Junior. She said you left them with enough formula and diapers to get ‘em through and that she, and I quote, would be positively heartbroken if you deprived her of time with her precious new grandchildren.”

“Andy…I don’t know…” As tempting as the thought of a night of uninterrupted slumber was, you were on the fence about being away from your precious babies for that long.

RoRo needed to be rocked to sleep, while A.J. needed you to pat his little tush and bounce him just so. And they both needed approximately 1,375 kisses every five minutes, otherwise they got fussy.

“You must really want a good night’s sleep, huh, Big Man?”

“Baby, when I get my hands on you, I promise that sleeping will be the last thing on both of our minds. Now, I’ve gotta run. But I’ll see you home around 4:00pm.”

“Andy…”

How did you tell your husband that you weren’t really feeling your post-pregnancy body right now? You’d even taken to changing in the bathroom lately. Thankfully he hadn’t seemed to notice that increasingly bad habit of yours…

At least not yet. But it was only a matter of time.

“Hush, sweetness. You just let Daddy take care of everything, okay? I’ve been dreaming of this day for almost two months now, and I plan to take my time loving all over every inch of your delectable body. And what’s more, you’re going to let me.” You can practically feel your nipples pebbling beneath the fabric of your shirt.

God, how did he always manage to sound so sexy when he was telling you what to do? Handsome ass buttface!

“I’ve gotta head into this meeting, but in the meantime, get some rest. You’re gonna need it.”

“Yeah, okay, sure.” You respond with a resigned sigh. “I…I guess I’ll see you when you get home then.”

“Damn right. Can’t wait to lose myself between those luscious thighs.” Andy rasps, with a slightly roughened edge to his tone. “It’s been way too long since I’ve had a taste…”

Oh good God…and it had been way too long since you had to deal with beard burn. At this point, you’d almost forgotten about what it felt like.

“Bye, Andy Bear.”

"Goodbye, little love.”

The call ends, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Putting the car in drive, you pull out of the parking lot and start thinking of every argument you could possibly make to talk your sweet, although slightly ogreish, husband out of sexy times and into sleepy times. But there was also something that told you that might not work.

Which meant it was time to come up with a Plan B. And while you were at it, probably a Plan C too.

___

Later That Afternoon...

“This makes me look like an apple with legs.”

You stare at your reflection in the bathroom mirror trying your best not to give in to the overwhelming feeling of defeat. At this point, you’d tried on multiple sets of lingerie – all different styles, cuts, and colors.

And this one had been the only thing that seemed to look halfway decent.

Well, the good news was that your ass was still there. But the bad news? So was your stomach.

“Swear to God…I’m gonna find an ocean and throw myself in it.” You mutter as you stare at your reflection. You let out a resigned sigh as you do a little spin. “Knowing my ass can’t swim.” You gently smoosh your hand against your tummy in an attempt to flatten it.

To be fair, you’d only given birth two months ago and the lingerie you’d purchased was kind of slimming so…

Maybe you were being too hard on yourself. Or, maybe it was still worth trying to convince your husband to settle for an evening filled with dinner and cuddles. You really weren’t in the mood to take your clothes off in front of him at the moment.

Hell, who were you kidding? You could walk around wearing nothing but fishnets and tinfoil and the man would still find a reason to be into you.

Sometimes your loving husband was a man of the hopeless variety.

Plus, while Andrew Barber wouldn’t force you to do anything you didn’t want to do, he would definitely do everything in his power to persuade you. And he could be very persuasive when he put his mind to it.

Yeah. You were probably fucked.

You take a deep breath and run your fingers through your thick hair, loosening and fluffing your curls. Although Andy would be home any minute, there was still time to throw on sweats and a t-shirt or something.

“Fuck!” You hiss as your eyes well and your bottom lip begins to tremble. The other problem was that, while you were convinced that you needed more time, you also wanted to make your husband happy. But how could you when you could barely stomach the idea of taking off your clothes in front of him.

Just last week, some asshole at your favorite smoothie bar had the nerve to ask how far along you were – his intrusive gaze lingering on your post-baby body. His audacity had caught you so off guard that you were pretty sure that you’d given some unintelligible answer before snatching your drink and running towards the nearest exit.

That one little interaction had practically eviscerated what little bit of self-confidence you had left. And while you hadn’t made specific mention of it to Andy, you might end up doing so – if only to plead your case.

Which was that you were simply too large right now to be sexy, let alone feel attractive. Your skin was too loose, your stretch marks too prominent. And not only that, you were pretty sure that the only reason Andy wanted you right now was because he hadn’t gotten any in a couple of months.

Once his itch had been sufficiently scratched, the haze would clear and then your husband would see your body for what it was. He would understand your need to undress behind closed doors, without an audience. And then he would give you however much time you needed to get yourself back into some semblance of shape.

A lone tear slips down your cheek, which only serves to piss you off more. And although you’re quick to dash it away, another one is soon to follow. The last thing you needed for Andrew to notice you’d been crying. There was no need for both of you to feel bad about the state of things, you know?

With one last shake of your head you decide to throw on your robe and head downstairs to greet your man.

“Let’s get this shit over with.”

___

Ten Minutes Later…

“Baby?” Your husband calls out as he enters the house from the garage. “Baby, I’m home! Where are you?”

“Kitchen!” You go back to busying yourself folding your brand new set of dish towels you’d purchased from Bed, Bath, & Beyond. That store was one of your happy places, second only to Target and Disney World. It also helped that there was one located almost directly across the street from the mall you’d stopped at as well.

Your pulse quickens as you hear him approach, his rapidly falling footsteps coming closer by the second.

“Ah, I found you.” Andy rounds the corner, grinning from ear to ear. “Hi, my gorgeous girl.” His smile somehow grows impossibly wider. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“Well, here I am.” You cast him a demure glance over your shoulder. “Although, I’m afraid I’m probably not much to look at.” Noticing his hands are surprisingly empty, you attempt to change the subject. “I thought you were gonna stop and grab dinner on the way?”

“I was.” He cocks his hip against the kitchen counter as loosens his tie. “But since you didn’t seem all that keen on the idea of surf and turf this morning I figured I’d hold off. Maybe see how we were feeling later this evening.”

“Oh.”

“Oh? Is that all my baby has to say about that?” Andy tosses his tie onto the counter before unfastening the top three buttons of his light blue dress shirt. “Just oh?”

“Uh, yeah. How was your day?” You were quickly running out of towels to unfold and refold. If you kept it up you were going to start looking like a lunatic.

“Too long for a man who’s been missing his wife the way I have.” His sensual purr is enough to make you weak in the knees. “It was fucking excruciating, Baby Girl.”

Don’t make eye contact. Don’t make eye contact. Don’t make eye – fuck! Your dumbass just made fucking eye contact!

Your throat suddenly goes dry as the weight of his intense gaze threatens to overwhelm you. Andrew Barber always seemed to have this way about him. Only he had the power to unravel you in this manner.

It was truly a skill that was his alone. But on days like today, it was also a major nuisance.

“Come here.” The gentleness of his tone softens the command.

“Umm…” Instead of doing as you’re told you decide to shove those stupid towels you’ve been preoccupied with into a drawer. Which also happens to be the wrong drawer. Kitchen linens didn’t belong with the cutting boards. Anybody with some sense could see that!

“Sweetheart…” Andy’s voice drops another octave. “Stop fussing with those and come here already. I’d really like to hold my wife.” His earnest plea has your eyes welling with tears.

“Yeah. Okay.” You sniffle out, before dropping the towel and making a headlong dash into his waiting embrace. He wraps his brawny arms around you then, tucking his chin into your thick mane of glossy curls.

The two of you stand there without moving. Holding each other close as your hearts beat in time with one another. Andy’s hand comes to rest on your lower back, his palm slowly rubbing in small, soothing circles.

“What’s wrong, princess?” He hugs even tighter as you gently nuzzle your face against his chest, effectively wiping off what little bit of makeup you’d managed to apply earlier. “Tell me, please.”

Aww. Your sweet Ogre had even said “please”.

“Nothing.” Which was also code for everything.

Andy steps back to tenderly grip your chin, his thumb lightly smoothing across your bottom lip. “You know Daddy doesn’t like it when you lie.” And then he leans in to brush his mouth over your own. “Especially when you’re upset.”

“I know.” The words come out barely above a whisper. “And I’m fine. I just, um…” You go to pull away, surprised when he actually lets you. “I went and did a little shopping today. You know…cuz’ we got the green light. But – well, not the robe. Th–that isn’t new. But once I got it home and really looked at it, I um…” You throw up your hands as everything comes tumbling out in one jumbled mess.

“It just doesn’t fit right, okay? It probably didn’t even fit properly at the boutique when I tried it on and I just didn’t notice. Because the lighting was different and the mirrors are maybe a little more forgiving. Kind of like the ones you find in a funhouse. Except all of them were super flattering. Not like the one we’ve got in our bathroom here at home. Which…I mean that’s probably how they get ya, right?”

Your husband lifts a quizzical brow as you continue to ramble and slowly back away. You knew there was quite literally no possible chance you could manage to outrun your handsome attorney. But that didn’t mean you weren’t above giving it the old college try.

“So, I’m just gonna go upstairs and peel this ugly thing off. That way neither one of us has to even bother looking at it.” You finish rather lamely.

“And why exactly do you think I wouldn’t want to look at you? How about you explain that one to me, please?” Andy growls, jamming his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

“Because I don’t like the way I look right now and I’m pretty sure that if I show you, then you won’t either.”

Andy stares you down, the muscle ticking in his jaw. But you were beyond caring at this point. Right now was about acknowledging the truth regarding your body and the level of comfort you had with it.

“That’s bullshit, baby.” He rakes an impatient hand through his hair, moussing the auburn strands. “You know I love the way you look. I fucking adore you.”

“And that last part may very well be true, Big Man.” You concede, toying with the material of your robe. “But I, um...” A lump forms in your throat, but you force yourself to press on. “I do believe you love the way I look when I’m pregnant, yes. So do I…mostly. And you also love the way I look when I’m not pregnant. As in, after I’ve lost a healthy chunk of the baby weight.”

“What in the–? I mean, Jesus fucking Christ!” Your husband cuts himself off mid-sentence as he rocks back on his heels – as if stunned by your admission.

“I’m saying this wrong.” Good lord, you needed to get a better handle on the direction of this conversation. “Fuck! I know I am. But I don’t feel very good about myself right now. I don’t want to take off my clothes. I don’t want you to see me in this lingerie. Because I am almost entirely convinced that once you do – once you see all that I’m currently working with – you will change your mind about wanting to sleep with me.”

“You don’t mean that.” Andy scoffs under his breath, which you ignore.

“And if I see that…if I see that switch flip behind your eyes when it finally clicks just how unattractive I truly am…I don’t think I could handle that.”

As hard as this was, it was important for you to make him understand. And once you were finished, perhaps you could cook the two of you something for dinner. After that you would simply settle in and enjoy an easy, child-free night.

“Meaning?” Andy grunts.

“Meaning, I’m not taking off this robe tonight.” You blow out a weary breath as your hands go rest on your hips. “In fact, I don’t even know why –”

“Are you finished yet, sweetheart?” Your husband finally interrupts, apparently having had enough of your tirade. “Or do you have more? Because I’ve gotta tell you, as nice as it is that you think you’ve decided all this shit for us, your Daddy has quite a bit to say. So, are you fucking finished?”

“Y–yes.” That strange lump in your throat is back. “But I –”

“Stop. If you’re going to be done, then be done.” Andy interrupts again, scrubbing a tired hand over his face. “Baby Girl…I know what you’re doing. Even if you don’t, even if you can’t see it. I do. And I’m going to put a stop to it right now.”

“I’m just telling us both the truth!” You cry before you can catch yourself.

“No. You’re feeding us both lies. And I won’t stand for that shit. Not for another goddamned moment. I–I just won’t.”

The passion in his voice is enough to temporarily silence any forthcoming protests.

“And what’s more,” Andy forges on, “you’re not giving me even a shred of credit here. Which, and I’ve gotta be real honest with you here, kinda pisses me the fuck off.” Now it’s his turn to sigh, although this one is filled with exasperation.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, looking down at your toes.

“Look. At. Me.” The authority in his tone has your head snapping up immediately.

“Have I ever, and I do mean ever, in all the years we’ve been together, given you any indication that you are anything but beautiful to me?” He takes a step towards you, even as you take one back. “I quite literally worship the ground you walk on, sweetness. Which means that I occasionally notice things, even when you think I don’t.”

Your husband takes another step towards you, and then another. He’s getting closer, purposely crowding you with his big body – essentially trapping you like the predator that he was.

“There has never been a time, not once, when I have been less than hopelessly attracted to you. I want you all of the goddamned time. And, you know, maybe I should seek professional help for this shit, but I don’t want to. I don’t need to. Because I love my wife. I adore every single inch of you.”

You jump when your back collides with the refrigerator, the cool surface of the stainless steel appliance piercing your skin through the thin fabric of your robe.

“So what is it, Baby Girl? What is that you’ve got under there that’s got you so convinced I’m going to be disgusted by what I see.” Andy levels you with a pointed look as his hands go to gently grip your biceps, caging you in. “What is it you’re trying to hide from me?”

You close your eyes when it becomes too hard to look at the man you loved more than anything - the man who was surely about to become your undoing.

“While I appreciate your so-called brand of honesty, sometimes it hurts me when you talk about yourself like this. When you doubt yourself in this way. When you doubt me. Doubt us.” Andy briefly rests his forehead against yours before continuing.

“How am I supposed to help you battle these insecurities if you won’t even let me in the ring, sweetness? Sometimes you make it damn near impossible to – fuck!” He hisses, breaking the almost tender embrace before reminding himself to pause. “Okay.”

“I–I’m sorry, Andrew.” This time you don’t bother trying to fight back the tears when they come. Instead you decide to let them fall, realizing that it might finally be okay to let your husband catch you.

Before you broke completely and shattered into a hundred-million little pieces.

“Why on earth are you apologizing to me right now?” He cups your face with his hands as he brushes your tears away. “I’m not shaming you. I’m just…” He takes another calming breath. “I’m just talking to you. I thought we were expressing how we felt about things, weren’t we?”

“Yeah.” You give him a quick nod as more tears make their way down your cheeks.

“Okay.” He presses a sweet kiss to your nose. “Then will you trust me to show you something?” Again you nod before allowing him to lace his fingers through yours and pull you in the direction of the hall.

“Wh–where are we going?”

“Hush.”

He leads you down the hallway in silence, not stopping until you’re both standing in front of the full-length mirror located in the foyer. And then he reaches around to undo the knot on your robe, sliding it off your shoulders and letting it pool on the floor at your feet.

“Well, would you look at you? Is this pretty little thing what you bought for me today?”

“Mmhm.” You breathe, resting your head against his broad chest while your man looks his fill. Andy smooths his hands up and down your sides, lovingly kneading your ample curves. “It was the only thing that I felt, um…like it might be okay.”

“You’re fucking gorgeous, Baby Girl.” Andy playfully nips at your ear. “You still trust me? Okay, good. Then let’s take this off, too.” He reaches for the skirt of your lingerie.

“But why?” You whine, attempting to wiggle out of his hold. Unfortunately for you, your Big Man refuses to let you go. “Wait!”

“I think I’ve waited long enough.” Even though he’s pushing you, you can tell he’s also trying to keep a lid on his patience. “We both have. You got to make your case back there in the kitchen, young lady. Which means it’s now time for your Daddy to make his, don’t you think?”

While you weren’t quite sure where this was going, you also weren’t sure if you were ready to use your safe word yet. If that particular rule even applied right now.

“I – alright.” You concede before lifting your arms so that he can help remove the flimsy garment, leaving you naked and bare to his gaze. Goosebumps rise on your vulnerable flesh as you shiver, but it’s not from the cold.

Safe to say, catching a chill was the last thing on your mind. You just wanted to get this shit over with, whatever it was, and then move the fuck on already.

“Be a good girl and open your eyes for me, little love.” Andy purrs, lightly running his fingers through your curls. “I want to show you what I see every time I look at you.”

It takes you a moment, but eventually you’re able to do as you’re told. But instead of focusing on your own reflection, you choose to look at your husband – taking comfort in the warmth radiating from him.

You wanted to trust him. You really did.

“Thank you. Now, I want you to do your best to hear me.” Andy begins as his hands come up to rest themselves on your shoulders. “You are gorgeous no matter what size you are. And I am consistently awed by the fact that you, my darling wife, just gave birth to two healthy babies a little over eight weeks ago. My babies.” You receive a tender kiss to the back of your neck.

Your lower lip begins to tremble of its own accord. But this time you don’t look away, instead you follow the path of his fingers as they trail their way down your body.

“It’s because of you, and your magnificent little body, that I’m lucky enough to have four pieces of heaven running around this house, making noise and causing chaos. Giving me both a reason to live again along with a few new gray hairs at the same time.”

You watch as he lifts your breasts, hefting the erotic weight of them in his palms. He gently massages them, completely unfazed by the light dribble of milk leaking from your left nipple. Instead you’re treated to another roguish grin as his tongue darts out to greedily lap up the stray drops from his knuckles.

“Fucking delicious. But stop trying to distract me, baby.” He rasps, his tone just shy of teasing. “We both know you’re not quite ready for me to feast just yet.” And then he winks at you, which suddenly has your legs feeling like jelly.

Although you flinch when his focus shifts to your belly, the pads of his fingers tracing along one of your more prominent stretch marks. He keeps his touch light - bordering on reverent - as he marvels at the angry stripes painted across your skin.

The ones formed out of a natural bond built between a mother and her children.

“I love this part of you. This part right here where you – aw, no. Please don’t look away from me, honey.” Andy moves to kiss away a fresh wave of tears. “Let me see those eyes.”

“I…I...” Your mouth clamps shut as you stifle a hiccup. You grant yourself a couple of seconds before opening your eyes again. This time when you do, you gently place your hands on top of his. “I’m sorry. I know, you love this part of me because of the kids. And I get it, I do. But…” You shake your head and give up.

Because something tells you that perhaps you’d be better off just listening for right now.

“Yes, I absolutely love this part of you because of our rugrats, but that’s not the only reason. It’s because, as much as I adore your tight little pussy and that spankable ass of yours, your belly has always been it for me.”

“What?” Now that has your full attention.

“I’m not kidding.” He asserts. “I don’t think I’ve ever shared this with you, probably because I thought I’d run the risk of sounding dumb. But your belly has always been my favorite feature because it’s…it’s my anchor.”

Your husband’s heartfelt admission actually has the nerve to throw you for a bit of a loop.

“I’m serious.” Andy continues, leaning down to press a hard kiss to your cheek. “There’s something about whenever the world feels like it’s falling apart all around me and then I reach for you, because that’s what I do. And you’re always there for me, my love. Always.” He gives you a light squeeze. “And without fail, you just let me hold you like this, wherever we are. And I just…I feel better.”

“Swear to God, I’m a grown-ass man, but this part of you brings me so much comfort. I understand the fact that you struggle with accepting your body the way it is right now, especially after welcoming the twins. But please believe me when I tell you that where you only seem to see your flaws, I see strength. I see incomparable beauty.”

Andy takes that moment to fully envelope you, wrapping his arms tightly around your middle and burying his face in your hair. You allow yourself to stand there for a little while, drinking in the sight of your devoted husband holding your nude body.

You’ve never felt more loved. More cherished than you did right now.

“Andy Bear…” You whisper, your voice filled with emotion. “I…I don’t quite see what you see. Not yet. But I do think I feel it now. More than I did anyway.”

You let out a surprised yip when he spins you around. His intoxicating blue eyes bore into your own as his hands move to tease the globes of your ass.

“You should know that I wasn’t finished yet, princess. I just spent the last several minutes composing a sonnet dedicated to that greedy pussy of yours. Then there’s those luscious thighs, and that ass. I also never really had a thing for feet until I met you, but I’m particularly fond of those too. I’m prepared to wax poetic about it all because I want you to see what I see.”

A laugh bubbles up in your chest. And when you decide to let it loose, it’s quite literally the most wonderful feeling in the world. You feel lighter than you have in days.

It’s enough to make you start crying all over again.

“I love you, Andrew Barber.” You murmur, rising on your tiptoes to take his lips in a brief kiss. “And I know you had what I’m sure was one hell of a speech planned, and while I really hate to cut it short, I’m thinking I might wanna take you to bed now.”

“Oh?” His tone is rife with cautious optimism. “Is that right?”

“Yeah.” Giving in to impulse, you proceed to tickle his ears. He makes a show of batting your hands away as he playfully dodges your advances – much to your delight. Although he eventually puts an end to things by picking you up and holding you close.

“But can we maybe take it slow?” You ask as you snuggle into his chest, basking in the safety and security of his familiar scent.

“Of course.” Andy murmurs as he spins on his heel and heads towards the direction of the stairs. “We have all night, my precious girl.”

That was the moment you knew without a doubt. The moment you finally believed that everything he’d said, every word he’d spoken to you, had been nothing but the truth.

And later that night, when you collapsed on the bed feeling completely sated with one another, you thanked your lucky stars that fate had led you into the arms of the one and only Andrew Barber.

END

For more about Andy and Reader's first time making love after welcoming their twins, be sure to check out the sequel, The Green Light: Afterglow.

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