#my partner’s flower returns

[parti-poppers]

[myatlantispoets]

Ik i sound like such a stereotypical straight woman rn but. How do i ask my bf for flowers without asking my bf for flowers

[astudyintheburningofhearts]

YOU GUYS. YOU GUYS. THE FIRST EPISODE OF HEARTSTOPPER SEASON THREE I'M SCREEAMINGGGGGGGGGG OMG (SPOILERS IN THE TAGS BTW PLEASE JUST SCROLL PAST) FEDJHWKQJ

[ak-vintage]

Work of Art

Pairing: General Marcus Acacius x f!reader

Prompt: Marcus Acacius & Nose

Summary: Your pregnancy brings out a vulnerability in Marcus you never would have expected. When he reluctantly shares his insecurities with you, you are more than happy to reaffirm your affection for each and every part of him.  

Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Second-person POV, no use of Y/N, established relationship, arranged marriage, POSSIBLE DUBCON (sex in an arranged marriage with a patriarchal power structure), hefty age gap, pregnant reader, inexperienced reader, insecurity, body worship, nose worship, face-sitting, oral (f! receiving), discovering that you’re in love with your spouse, SO MUCH FLUFF, high likelihood of historical inaccuracy (aiming for vibes, not perfection)

Written for @joelmillerisapunk PPCU Body Worship Writing Challenge

Dividers by @saradika-graphics <3

Read on AO3

It is barely sunrise when the messenger arrives at your door.

Coated in a layer of dust from the road, mounted on the back of a well-lathered horse, and bearing the colors of the empire, the young man demands your staff wake you to receive him – that he is under orders to accept no intermediary, that his message is intended for the lady of the house and no one else. The news of his arrival sends ice into your veins the moment you open your eyes; even as the wife of a general, you do not often receive messages from the front lines, and you could not resist fearing the worst. Curls loose and mussed with sleep, tunica tied almost haphazardly in your haste, you rush to the atrium as quickly as propriety will allow and take the messenger’s sealed scroll with trembling hands.

My dearest wife, it reads. The skirmish on the southern border has been quelled for the time being. In recognition of our efforts, and out of respect for our recent union, I have been granted leave to return to Rome for a period of respite. If the sea is calm and the road is easy, you can look to the horizon for my return in one month’s time. Prepare the household for my arrival. Faithfully yours, Marcus Acacius

The relief you feel at those words is so powerful that you sink into the nearest chair, weak-kneed. Thankfully, your staff are more than competent enough to manage offering food, a bath, and a fresh horse to the harried messenger without your guidance, for you have not the capacity to play hostess. It had been your greatest fear, you realize as you sit there reading and re-reading the general’s letter until your eyes begin to burn with fatigue. You had had such little time as husband and wife before Marcus had been shipped out to the border, and you dread nothing more than the prospect of joining the ranks of the widows of Rome before you even have the opportunity to fully know the man you had married. It would have been such a waste, you think, like a flower cut from the vine when it was barely a bud, cursed never to bloom for the rest of time.

The truth is that although yours had been an arranged marriage, one of convenience, you feel (perhaps naively) that it held great promise. The general had never married, choosing to prioritize his military ambitions over his personal life. However, now that he was getting older, he had determined that it would be wise to seek a wife who might give him an heir to the prestigious station he had earned for himself over the years. Your father, a wealthy, prominent senator, had brokered the match, and a mere fortnight after you had been introduced for the first time, you had been wed.

Marcus had proven to be a gentle husband, a great contrast to what you had believed based on the tales of his ferocity in battle. He had spoken kindly to you and listened patiently, giving weight to your words, treating you like a partner right from the start. He had given you free reign over the household and encouraged you to mold his domus and his staff to suit your tastes. You had had very little time in each other’s presence, but he nevertheless struck you as a man of honor, a man of principle. As a woman in your position, there was little else you could ask for in a match, and the thought had comforted you as you stood side-by-side with this near-stranger and signed your marriage contract.

On your wedding night, he had been as tender with you as he could. You had been able to tell that he was holding himself back, restraining himself from taking you as savagely as he might have wished, but for that, you thought him compassionate. Of course, there had been some pain to start; this you had anticipated. However, toward the end of your coupling, as the general had begun to growl muffled curses into the soft skin of your neck and thrust himself so deeply inside you, you swore you could feel his manhood in your belly, you thought perhaps that it might have begun to feel…good?

He had spilled his seed within you shortly thereafter, bringing your union to a sudden and dramatic end and leaving your tentative, blooming pleasure to fizzle and die in your veins.

You glance down at the swell of your belly at the recollection, feeling heat rise in your cheeks. The fruits of your union that night – and the nights that followed for the brief month he had been permitted to remain by your side – had made themselves apparent shortly after his departure. That had been five months ago now, and it had been an incredible relief to know that you had managed to fulfill your duty to the general so quickly. You had fully expected to give birth on your own, to share the joyous news with him via special messenger like so many other soldier’s wives. Now, to know that he is set to return so soon, that relief is compounded. Barring any emergencies on the front, he likely would be home long enough to be present for the birth.

Birthing was a woman’s business, of course. You knew there was little Marcus could truly do to aid you in your labors. But a part of you, perhaps a very foolish, girlish part of you, could not help but feel safer when he was near. You would sleep better at night knowing he was once again within the walls of your domus.

Easing yourself back onto your feet, you get the attention of the nearest member of your staff.

“Once our guest has been seen to, gather the others in the courtyard,” you command. “We have much to prepare. The general is coming home.”

General Marcus Acacius rides into Rome on a sunny afternoon astride a handsome black stallion. Escorted only by a small retinue of guards and vassals, he travels light, with the economy and efficiency of a man who has spent the majority of his adult life in an army camp. The servant boy you have stationed at the city walls every day for the last week eagerly tells you that he looks well, that he has been asked to report first to the emperors’ palace but that he expects to be home by nightfall.

The news of your husband’s imminent arrival has a riot of butterflies rising in your chest, and you feel the child you carry respond almost instantly, fluttering and twitching against the walls of your womb at your excitement. A smile pulls at your lips, and you smooth your palms over the rounded surface of your belly as if to say, “I understand. I feel it, too.”

You send a message to the kitchen staff with orders to ensure that the general’s favorite meal is prepared for this evening, as well as for his preferred wine to be brought up from the cellar. Perhaps it is a bit silly – this is his home even moreso than it is yours – but you have an odd desire to make him feel welcomed. You want him to know that you have given thought to his needs and his preferences, that you have managed and looked after his home with proficiency in his absence, that you have anticipated his return.

You want to make the general happy, you realize with a flush.  Not only for him to be happy, but you wish to be the cause of that happiness. Does that make you proud, you wonder? Or selfish? Perhaps. All you know for certain is that in the brief time spent by his side, all those months ago, you had begun to associate Marcus Acacius with feelings of comfort, of safety, of acceptance. Even perhaps…affection. You like him. Was it so wrong to wish for him to like you, too?

You are in the ostium waiting for him when the general arrives. The sun sets behind him as he approaches on horseback, still in full armor from his travels, and your first thought is that he is even larger than you remember. Blotting out the golden light with the incredible breadth of his shoulders, you think he looks almost otherworldly, like some mythical hero of old returned from a harrowing quest. You can feel your heart speed up behind your ribs, galloping like the hooves of his horse on the cobblestones, and you are thankful no one can hear it but you. You are a woman grown, wedded and bedded and carrying a child, the head of your own household, the wife of a prominent, respected officer of the grand army of Rome. The idea that you should become so flighty, so unmoored at the sight of your own husband is absurd.

When his gaze falls on you, your trembling hands find your stomach, a gesture that has become more and more instinctual as the bump has become more and more visible, and before he can even greet you, his eyes drop to where they rest.

Marcus pulls his horse up short, the soft expression in his dark irises sharpening, intensifying. You watch as his prominent brow draws up, something between shock and awe and hope washing over his face, and then he is swinging his leg up and over his mount, dropping to the ground, closing the distance between you in a handful of long, powerful strides. His eyes do not leave your stomach until he is a mere handful of inches from your body, and you catch sight of his broad, thick-fingered hands clenching at his sides as though resisting the urge to reach out and touch you.

“Dearest wife,” he rasps, his throat dry as he finally, finally flicks his eyes back up to meet yours. “Have you something to tell me?”

You swallow thickly, suddenly overcome with the intensity, the intimacy of his attention. “Welcome home…husband.” Your voice sounds tremulous to your own ears, but you do not allow yourself to dwell on it. Instead, you wrap both of your hands around one of his and bring his dry, scarred knuckles to your lips. Dropping a kiss onto the center ridge, you add, “It is a blessing from the gods to see you well after so many months apart.”

Your name is a sigh on his lips. “It is a blessing to be permitted to return home after so short a time,” he counters. “Now, if my eyes deceive me, I will beg your forgiveness and claim fatigue from the long journey as my excuse. But are you…”

He trails off, as though hesitant to speak the words aloud, and you could swear that someone had reached into your chest and taken hold of your heart for how tight it squeezes at the thread of hope woven into his words. Unable to bear it anymore, you finish his incomplete thought on your own.

“Yes…General Acacius – ”

“Marcus,” he interjects immediately, and you feel yourself flush at the familiarity.

“Marcus,” you echo. “I-I am with child. You are to be a father.”

The breath he releases is long and slow, his dark eyes shining in the setting sun, and if you did not know better, you might think that your revelation had rendered him speechless. However, it takes him only a moment to collect himself, and then he is reaching for your belly with both hands, palms outstretched almost pleadingly. “May I – ?”

You nod readily, feeling a grin split your face, and then his hands are on you, cupping your swelling bump with his sword-calloused touch. His skin catches on the fine material of your tunica, but you are unbothered. He is warm and vital against you, his touch more than welcome after so many months on your own, and as though the precious thing had been waiting for their cue, the child in your womb kicks against their father’s hands.

The general’s brows shoot up at that, his forehead crinkling beneath his dark, gray-streaked curls, and he lets out a rough, strained laugh. “By the gods. It’s true.” Keeping one hand on your bump, he brings the other to the side of your face, wrapping his fingers around the back of your neck, stroking your jaw with his thumb. It’s the most tender, intimate gesture he has ever shown you, and the heat of his palm has your knees weakening beneath you.

“You honor me, amica. Thank you,” he says, husky voice thick with emotion. He presses a brief, dry kiss to your forehead, and you cannot help but wish it had been to your lips instead.

Dinner passes in a blur of sumptuous foods and peppered questions, both from you about his time at the border and from him about how you are settling into your new home, your new role. This is one thing about your relationship that has been easy from the moment you met – it is clear to you that Marcus cares deeply about your perspective on the world. He never rushes you, never cuts in when you are speaking, never attempts to correct you in some demonstration of superiority. It’s a unique experience for you coming from a man, particularly one of his age and rank, and it makes you feel cherished in a way you never would have expected in a marriage like yours. You are under no illusions that yours was a love match, after all, but something about the intent way that Marcus holds your gaze, the way he nods along as you speak, the way he asks such thoughtful questions – it has you all but convinced that he cares for you as you are coming to care for him.

The two of you linger over dinner long past nightfall, but eventually, he stands from his chair at the head of the table, offers his hand to you, and leads you to the privacy of your shared chambers. He beds you that night, as you had expected he would after so long without the touch of a woman, and you go to him willingly. His touch burns with barely-restrained fervor, the expression on his handsome face twisted almost as if in pain, and just as you had on that first night, you feel something building within you as he takes you.

You have no name for it, and yet it feels altering in its magnitude. You feel like lightning, like lava, like some elemental thing ablaze with fire and light, and just when you are certain that the feeling is about to consume you, just as you know in your bones that you cannot take any more or you will surely die –

Marcus spills himself inside you, withdraws, and collapses onto the bed next to you.

The feeling recedes. You catch your breath. Your husband plants a kiss on your hairline, and under his lips, he finds the sweat of your exertion, of your truncated pleasure. He whispers “good night, amica” against your curls, and then he rolls away.

Moments later, soft snores fill the room. The general is fast asleep, but you…

You are going mad.

It is many days later before this madness finally comes to a head.

Every night since his return, Marcus has sought his pleasure in your body. He never forces himself upon you or hurts you in any way; he asks before touching you, always. But as you approach a full week of night after night of thwarted pleasure, you cannot help but begin to find ways to…delay the inevitable question. You have taken to engaging him in conversation as you lay in bed, asking him about the many visitors he has received over the last several days, or about his journey home from the border, or about his favorite horse, Tempestas. He takes this in stride, seemingly happy to indulge you, and the two of you spend long minutes talking softly by candlelight, warm and close under soft, shared sheets.

This night, you decide to ask him about the baby and how he feels knowing that you carry his heir, that his legacy is secured.

You anticipate the smile he gives you, the fond look in his eyes as he reaches out to feel the curve of your belly, as he has done now hundreds of times over the last week. What you do not expect is the earnestness of his words as he tells you, “I have never been a father before. At my age, I did not expect that I would ever have the privilege. Now that you have made it possible, I find that I care much less for legacy or inheritance than I do for…safety. Stability. Peace.”

You soften at that, and on instinct, your hand goes to his hair, brushing his graying curls back from his forehead with gentle, soothing strokes. You have found that this is something he likes, and he leans into your touch like a barn cat in a sunbeam. He seems pensive, and you allow the silence between you to linger while he gathers his thoughts.

“I mourn that this child should have a general for a father,” he admits after a moment. “I will be absent for much of his life. I will disappear for stretches of time that could number in years, and when I return, I will be like a stranger to him. Were it in my control, I would be more present. I wish to know my child. And for him to know me.”

“Him?” you echo, a bit impishly, and Marcus smirks.

“Or her, of course. I cannot claim to know whom you carry in your womb. I shall leave that mystery for the gods.”

You grin back him, enjoying the good humor sparkling in his dark eyes. “I am sure that however much time you are permitted to spend with our child – be it months or weeks or days – it will be enough.”

Lifting himself up on one elbow, the general fixes you with a skeptical frown. “How can you be so certain?” he asks.

“Because it does not take long to see who you are, Marcus,” you reply earnestly. “To see your nobility, your strength, your power. Your kindness. These are all things I learned about you in the mere fortnight before we were wed. Your child shall know these things about you, as well.” ��

Tucking your hands beneath your cheek, you stare up at him from your pillow. The warmth of the candlelight casts shadows across his golden skin, highlighting the soft crinkles around his eyes, the bridge of his nose, the plush fullness of his lower lip. “Besides, even when you are away, I shall be around to teach them,” you add with a shrug.

“Amica…” He seems a bit overcome at your sincerity, and his low voice rasps like a sword on a whetstone in the darkness. “You are very generous.”

That riot of butterflies returns to your belly as the intimacy of the moment stretches on. Gods, but he is so beautiful like this. No one has ever looked at you the way he does – not with base lust for your body, not with envy for your wealth, not with dismissal for your sex. Marcus looks at you like something precious, like something to be valued. That look makes you foolish, makes your cheeks hot and your tongue loose.

When you speak again, it is without thought.

“When I think about our child…I hope that they look like you, so that even when we are apart, I might have some comfort in seeing your face every day.”

At that, the general lets out a full-bodied laugh and rolls his eyes. Flipping over onto his back, he shakes his head fondly at you like one might a mischievous child. “Now I know for certain that you are flattering me, wife.”

Your brows nearly reach your hairline as a flush of embarrassment races up the back of your neck, darkening your cheeks in an instant. “Wh – No, sir, I would never!” you insist. “I am being entirely earnest.”

“My face? My face upon an innocent babe?” He says this with a scoffing laugh, sounding amused, but when you catch sight of the tightness in his jaw, the wrinkle between his brows, you think that there might be something…authentic beneath his jesting words. “No, my dear wife. It would be far better if the child were to share your visage. Then they might truly be comely to look upon.”

Is it possible…have you stumbled upon a true insecurity, you wonder? It seems unlikely. This is General Marcus Acacius, commander of the emperors’ armies, a man two decades your senior who fought wars on behalf of Rome before you could even walk on two feet. He exudes power and strength and intelligence, and he carries himself with the kind of confidence and self-assurance that comes along with experience. He is a skilled strategist, an indomitable warrior.

Does he truly not see…

Scooting closer to him on the bed, you allow yourself to cup his bearded jaw, to turn his face toward yours. “There would be no greater gift than a child with your eyes, Marcus,” you say softly. “Or perhaps your smile.”

“But not this nose, surely,” he replies, tapping the end of his prominent, hooked nose with one calloused finger. He shakes his head with a wry smile, as though the idea is too preposterous to consider. “I would not willingly inflict such an eyesore upon a child.”

By the gods. He means it, you realize. He has truly surprised you. To your knowledge, the general is not a vain or self-conscious man. You have never known him to care overmuch about how he looks; it was quite a contrast to the pampered upper-class boys you grew up alongside, something you had found refreshing when you had first met. Had you misunderstood? Misinterpreted his lack of self-regard as a lack of care?

You decide it does not matter. All you know for certain is that your husband appears to be under the impression that his appearance leaves something to be desired, and as his wife, you feel it is your duty to demonstrate to him just how wrong he is.

The thought has your heartrate picking up again.

“Do you know…what I thought,” you begin haltingly, forcing yourself to hold his gaze, “the first day I met you, at my father’s villa?”

His dark brows knit together in a small frown, as though your words have surprised him. “Tell me.”

Swallowing against the sudden dryness in your throat, you confess, “I thought you the most striking man I had ever seen.”

“You flatter me, dear heart.” His words are soft, as is his answering smile, but you can hear the platitude in his voice. He does not believe you.

“No, no, it is not flattery.” With some effort, you push yourself up off of the bed, too emphatic to remain lying down for this discussion. You haul your pregnant body up to kneel at his side, tucking your knees into the warmth of his thick waist, and your long hair dangles over his broad chest as you look into his eyes. “I know that…the circumstances of our union were not exactly romantic, and I know that we do not yet know each other well, but I hope you will heed my words when I tell you that…I count myself extremely fortunate to have been married to so handsome a man.” Glancing down at your hands, you fiddle with one of the many thin, gold rings on your fingers in self-consciousness. “My father could have selected anyone he liked. The fact that it is you who shares my bed, you whose child I carry… It is a blessing.”

It is silent between you for a time, your words hanging in the air like a declaration, but then Marcus’s body shifts against you. Curling up to sit at your side, one of his thick, broad hands comes into your line of vision and wraps itself around both of yours, stilling your fidgeting.

You risk a look up, meeting his gaze through the length of your lashes, and you feel your breath leave your body as you take in the softest, warmest, most tender expression you have ever seen on his handsome face.

“It pleases me to hear that you are happy,” he murmurs, running one of his thumbs along the back of your hand. “And that your affection for my look is genuine. It would not do for you to say such things in an attempt to…endear yourself to me. There is no need. I am already quite fond of you.”

You are quick to shake your head. “Not at all! If I have ever given you such an impression, you have my deepest apologies.”

Now that your true feelings for your husband have been revealed, you feel as though you can no longer contain them. Under the affectionate weight of his dark eyes, more comes spilling forth, unbidden. “The truth is that even in the short time that we have known one another, I have spent many hours at my easel attempting to recall your likeness in detail so that I might recreate it. Your nose in particular, I find to be most…attractive.”

Your hand moves of its own accord then, slipping from his grip to float across the narrow space between you as though possessed by some covetous spirit. The very tip of your middle finger lands in the space between his eyebrows, and although you make no conscious decision to do so, you trace down the steep curve of the bridge of his nose with a touch so delicate it might as well have been a breeze.

Your own voice sounds breathless and far away to your ears as you whisper, “You look like a sculpture, Marcus. Like the great marble warriors along the garden path. It makes you look stately and…masculine and…commanding.” Between your thighs, you feel your most intimate muscles clench. You have grown swollen and sensitive there, a feeling you have become increasingly familiar with since your husband’s return home. It’s sweet and delicious and utterly torturous, making you want to squirm in your seat, but you resist.

At least…until Marcus traps your hand in his and brings your wandering fingers to his mouth.

Your eyes snap to his, and you watch as he presses slow, lingering kisses across each of your fingertips. The sensation of his hot, moist breath on your sensitive skin has you trembling, and gods, but his lips are so soft. Turning your palm up to the heavens, the general places a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the tender center of your palm, and you feel yourself swaying toward him as though under a spell.

The plush of his lips dances gently across the thin skin of the inside of your wrist, and your pulse thrums beneath his touch as he growls, “There is perhaps…one advantage of such a face.”

“Tell me.” Your echo of his earlier words comes out like a whine, like you are pleading with him, though what you are pleading for, you cannot say.

Marcus appears to consider your request for a moment, his eyes going sharp and calculating, and then he says, “Perhaps it might be better if I showed you. Do you trust me, dear heart?”

You are quick to nod. “Yes. I trust you.”

Inclining his head at you in acknowledgment, he releases his grip on your hand and pulls away entirely. He lays back on the bed then, scooting down so that his head is flat on the padded surface rather than on his pillow. He adjusts himself a bit, shifting back and forth, but once he is comfortable, he looks back at you and pats his chest with both hands. The sound is muffled by his soft linen sleep tunic but nonetheless audible in the silence of your bedchamber.

“Mount me,” he says without preamble, and you swear you can hear the whirring gears in your brain grind to a halt.

“W-What?”

“I want you to sit astride my face, as you would a horse.” No matter how intensely your face burns at the wicked suggestion, you cannot seem to look away. His deep brown eyes are bottomless in the dark, the depths of them reflecting the candlelight like water at the bottom of a well. You can feel yourself falling into them, can feel something at the very core of you tugging toward him, answering his call. If you were to glance down at the rest of his body, you would see the evidence of the general’s own arousal tenting his tunic, but your gaze is trapped, held fast by the magnetism of him.

“Come, amica,” he says after a moment of your silent, scandalized staring. “You may rest your ass upon my chest, but I would have that sweet cunt on my mouth.”

You swallow audibly, still making no move to obey. Wetness begins to pool between your thighs, slicking your skin and staining the fabric of your sleep clothes, and you lose the battle against your urge to squirm. Your thighs clench together, and you shift upon your calves in search of friction, but you find none. You need his touch…but what he is suggesting is –

“M-Marcus, I couldn’t possibly – I shall smother you, how will you – ”

He cuts off your protests with a growl of your name, and in that moment, you see not your noble husband staring up at you. Instead, you see the Roman General Acacius – sharp jaw clenched, nostrils flared, dark eyes blazing.

“I shall not ask again, wife. No harm will come to you or to me. Now do as you’re told and sit on my face.”

You hesitate for another beat, then two, and then you shuffle forward on wobbly knees to obey. Your husband’s eyes burn a path across your body as you approach him, tracing from your parted, panting lips, to your heaving breasts, to your swollen, pregnant belly. You feel the look like a physical touch, and the sensation has your skin flushing, has sweat breaking out at the small of your back and the nape of your neck. With shaking, uncertain hands, you reach out and brace your palms against the gold-filigreed headboard for stability.

“That’s it, nearly there now,” Marcus sighs as you clumsily, awkwardly swing one of your legs over his body. Your knee lands on the other side of his shoulder, and you feel the heat of his touch on your naked thighs almost immediately. With slow, deliberate motions, he pushes the hem of your sleep tunic up to your hips, revealing your bare ass and cunt to the cool air of the bedroom.

You draw your lower lip between your teeth to stifle a whine, and gooseflesh breaks out across your skin. You’ve started to shake, though whether in fear or arousal, you couldn’t say. Gods, you’re so exposed now. The wetness between your thighs is fully on display, mere inches from your husband’s face. It’s mortifying; if you could melt into the bed and disappear forever, you know you would.

Marcus, however, clearly has no such compunctions. His thick fingers knead the soft, lush flesh of your hips and thighs, using his grip to draw your forward, to draw you down. The groan that oozes from his lips into the hot slip of atmosphere between you sounds exactly like the one he makes when he first slides inside you, and you feel yourself clench involuntarily at the tremor of it now sounding between your legs. He must catch sight of this, your body’s own betrayal happening right under that stately nose that started this whole ordeal, for one moment he appears to be watching you settle in with rapt attention, and the next, he is releasing a dark, sinister chuckle and yanking you closer.

You give a thought for resistance then, consider pulling yourself from his hold, but –

Oh, you can feel his breath on your cunt, can feel your dripping curls shift beneath the current of air as he laughs.  

You shift a bit on your knees, settling so that your weight rests just above each of his shoulders with his hands gripping your hips from behind you. The lower curve of your ass brushes the fine fabric of his tunic, and you are certain that if you could see his face, you would find his chin mere inches from the part of you that pulses and throbs for his attention. As it is, the roundness of your bump nearly eclipses his head, leaving only wisps of the thick, graying curls on the top of his head to peak out around the edges.

“Marcus?” Your voice trembles with nerves around his name, and beneath you, he sighs.

“Well done, amica, you are right where I want you,” he assures you with a groan. You feel the well-trimmed stubble of his silvered beard brush your lower lips; the feeling startles a gasp out of you, and on instinct, one of your hands flies from the headboard to the top of his head. “Mmm, yes, that’s it – sink your fingers into my hair. Hold yourself steady on me.”

You hardly recognize the sound of your own voice as you whimper, “Marcus – Marcus, please.”

“I know what you need.” His touch on your hips is warm, gentle, soothing. “Don’t be afraid. Now rest your weight on me and let me taste you.”

The joints in your limbs feel like water at the general’s words, at the hot wash of his breath across your swollen center. The embarrassment at your precarious position above his face still fizzes in your veins, making you lightheaded, but molten desire has begun to drown it out. Your mind doesn’t fully understand what is about to happen or what he is asking of you, but it seems that on some level, your body does, because it is absolutely thrumming for it.

There is nothing for it anymore. You cannot refuse him. You do not want to refuse him. Whatever he is about to do to you, your body needs it, craves it in the same way it does air or water or food. When you sink your cunt down onto your husband’s waiting mouth, it feels both like a surrender and like a victory.

“Oh – gods, Marcus – ”

Marcus groans deep in his chest the moment you touch his tongue, and then he is bracketing his arms around your thighs and forcibly seating you even more firmly against him. Dragging the slick, pink muscle of his tongue through your folds in one long, languorous stroke, it doesn’t take long before your thighs begin to tremble around his ears. He is focused, meticulous, thorough in his exploration of your most intimate flesh – sucking delicately at your lips, dipping the gentle tip of his tongue into your soft, quivering hole, using the flat of it to dance around that swollen nub at your apex that pulses with the thunderous beat of your heart. The thick arms locked around your thighs angle you this way and that, and through the sound of your own gasps and whines, you can hear the way your wetness drips at his touch.

Every lick, every suck, every swirl of his tongue serves to drive you higher, and you find yourself mindlessly running your hands over your body to ground yourself – stroking your belly, gripping your hips, cupping your breasts. The latter has you accidentally brushing your hardened nipples with your thumbs, and even muted as it is through your tunic, the sensation has you crying out into the dark room.

And that tongue never stops. Marcus is relentless – inexorable and yet unhurried. You can feel all of the tension in your hips and thighs melting away under the heat of his touch, and yet deep within you, something has begun to twist, to pulse, to squeeze. It feels like it does when Marcus beds you – pleasure stirring, burning, building within you as he grows more and more intent, more and more hungry, oh, gods…

It is miraculous. It is unbearable. It is tantamount to torture.

“Marcus,” you gasp helplessly, your fingers knotting in his hair, gripping the headboard. “I – I need – ”

The general pulls away from your cunt with a growl like an animal, and the sound rumbles through your body as he rasps, “That’s it, beautiful girl. Ride my face. Grind those hips into me and ride my face.”

You understand each of his words individually, but they do not coalesce in your mind. How does one “ride” a face? For a moment, you feel self-consciousness and shame begin to creep in at the edges of your thoughts. There are others who would understand the general’s instructions, surely. Others who would know what he wanted and would do it for him in an instant. For the first time, you allow yourself to consider the women that follow the army camps, the women whose services you were certain your husband had partaken of throughout his extensive career. They would know, certainly. Was there truly anything you could offer him that they could not?

Just as you begin to lose that delicious curl of pleasure in your core, as the fog of desire begins to clear from your brain, Marcus flexes those thick, strong arms around your legs and encourages your hips to thrust, dragging your tender flesh across the stubble of his beard, the plush of his lips, the slick of his tongue. That tongue, suddenly firm and pointed, thrusts into your sex, lapping at your wetness, filling the place that clenches for his cock. With the hitch of your hips, that swollen bundle of nerves just at the top glances across the bridge of your husband’s nose.

“Ah! Marcus!”

Beneath your cunt on his face, beneath your hand in his hair, you feel him nod emphatically, and understanding crashes over you like a wave. “Riding” his face. “Mounting” him, like a horse. This is what he wants. He wants you to thrust your hips against his face, as if in the saddle of a warhorse. To rub yourself against his nose and his tongue.

He wants you to find your pleasure with his body.

As though all your joints and muscles had been waiting on this realization, your hips begin to move of their own accord almost immediately, thrusting against that relentless, ever-present tongue, driving it deeper into the hot clutch of your cunt, and fuck…that nose, that big, strong, curved, perfect nose, glancing off of that most sensitive spot with every thrust. Head thrown back, hands on your breasts, fingers twisting and pulling your tender nipples through your tunic, you experiment with different speeds, different pressures, different depths, but if you are honest with yourself, you are so far gone that it has all begun to feel equally intense, equally delicious.

And so you move with abandon – leaning heavily on the headboard for balance, gripping his hair, you grind your swollen, dripping cunt across your husband’s handsome face, fucking his tongue deep into your body, riding the hard curve of his perfect Roman nose. You feel yourself pulse and twitch and tremble with every thrust, feel him lap and slurp and suck at you with new fervor, feel his thick fingers dig into your hips so deeply you know you will bear his bruises in the morning. You had not known pleasure like this existed, had not known it was possible for you to achieve it. You feel drunk with it, the way it seeps into your veins like one too many glasses of wine, and Marcus drinks you down like the finest vintage.

Your clitoris drags across his nose once again, and you cannot smother your moan at the feeling. “Gods, Marcus, your nose – ”

Against your wetness, the general’s face vibrates with something like a chuckle. “I know, dear heart, I know – I told you, this face has one advantage.”

You shake your head fervently, feeling your long curls brush your back as you grind. “It’s perfect. Perfect, Marcus, I – oh, gods, I feel – ”

Another animalistic growl ripples through your husband’s chest, and you feel him nod beneath you. “Jus’ let it happen, amica. Take your pleasure,” he slurs, mouth full of you.

And you do. You take and take and take, clit grinding, hips thrusting, thighs shaking, lungs gasping, and with every pass, that bright, hot, vicious spiral in your abdomen winds tighter, tighter, tighter. Gods, it feels as though it is going to consume you – to swallow you whole and drag you under, to drown you in your own dripping sweetness, your own savage pleasure.

And then it plateaus, the sensations holding, holding, staying at precisely the same level, dangling you over the edge, and in a far away voice, you hear yourself whimper, “Marcus, please!”

Releasing his grip on one of your hips, the man beneath you lands a single, sharp smack to the meat of your ass, and over the edge you fall.

It’s everything you thought it could be – lightning in your veins, lava in your lungs, something primal and elemental and raw that rips through your body like a tidal wave that leaves you hiccuping whines and shaking like a leaf atop the general’s face. You spill your pleasure down his chin, into his mouth, along his jaw. It slips down his neck and dampens the embroidered collar of his tunic, and the way he groans into your twitching cunt, you would think that it had caused him pain. But no – he feels your ecstasy as though it is his own. You have left your body to soar among the clouds, and he joins you, overcome with the particular joy of being responsible for making his wife – the mother of his child – reach such heights.

When you come back to yourself, you are utterly spent – limp and boneless and sweating as though you had just run at top speed from here to the city gates. You start to collapse, and Marcus’s strong hands are there to catch you, to slide you down from his face to his lap. Gathering you into his arms, he brings you back down onto the mattress and tucks you into his side. His broad shoulder cushions your flushed cheek, and his fingers brush your disheveled hair back from your face as you catch your breath. Through bleary eyes, you catch the way his face shines in the candlelight. He’s covered in your slick.

For a few moments, you simply gaze at each other as the silence stretches between you. It is only punctuated by the sound of your labored breaths as each of you settle, but somehow it isn’t awkward, and you find yourself smiling in spite of yourself. He’s so perfect like this, your Marcus. Hair mussed, face pink, everything from his chin to his nose glowing with your pleasure.

There’s a softness around his eyes you’ve never seen before, an earnest warmth that burrows its way into your chest and makes a nest there dangerously close to your heart. It’s an emotion you have a name for, if you are brave enough to say it, and the thought has you gripping tight to his tunic.

You are in awe of him.

You…you love him.

“And what is your verdict, my wife?” he asks after a beat. His voice is a low rumble that travels through his chest and into your body, warming you inside. “Does this Roman nose still please you?”

A tired grin tugs at the corners of your lips, pulling you out of the seriousness of your thoughts, and you nod as enthusiastically as you can manage. “Indeed, I am not certain I have ever been quite so…pleased before, husband.”

��Hmm. Good.” Marcus tucks the arm around your body into your waist, pulling you even deeper into his embrace. “Then perhaps the thing may serve a purpose after all.”

You reach up and cup his cheek in your palm, feeling the stickiness of your spend in his beard on your skin. “The purpose it serves is that it is my husband’s nose, and as such, is a part of the dearest face in the world to me.” His dark eyes soften at that, and he turns to place a warm kiss on the heel of your hand.

“Though…should you find yourself forgetting,” you add with an impish grin, “I would not object to a…repeat demonstration of its value. If it would be of any help to you, of course.”

This startles a laugh from his chest, his dark eyes crinkling with mirth, and you cannot help but join in. Gods, he is gorgeous, you think to yourself as you chuckle together in the dark. Both in his soul and in his body, your husband is gorgeous.

A hand drops to the place where your child rests, safe and protected inside your womb, and you feel a little flutter against your palm.

You decide then that you care not whether your child bears your face or Marcus’s. Either way, they will be beautiful, for how could they not be, when they have come from this?

Latin Translation:

amica - darling, sweetheart

[obsessivevoidkitten]

The Ogre Prince of Breakbend Isle

Male Ogre Yandere x Feminized Male Reader

CW: Noncon, drugging, aphrodisiacs, aphrodisiac cum, kidnapping, voyeurism, masturbation, big musky ogre cock, cockwarming, somnophilia, multiple orgasms, feminized reader, belly bulge from absurdly huge dick, belly bulge from absurdly large amounts of ogre cum, sweet yandere, general yandere behavior

Word Count: 1.4k

(Started writing this last night before the cat thing, then worked more on it until 5am, then finished it up this evening. REALLY hope you all like it, pretty please comment <3)

Breakbend Isle. Not a place any human should ever be. It was a medium-sized island filled with ogre villages. Yet you were there. A storm had taken your tiny fishing ship and washed you up there. The boat had broken hopelessly too. 

You were stranded in dangerous territory. The ogres had a reputation for being brutal and violent towards trespassers, as none who had set foot there had ever returned. 

And you were no exception. Despite your best efforts, your cooking fire was sniffed out miles away by Rahtrig the Wrathful. Prince to the leading ogres of Breakbend Isle, son of a the fiercest ogre warlord in human history. He took after his father, over 7ft tall and all muscle.

He had been hunting for deer but found something far more appetizing for a completely different type of hunger. 

Instead of just walking up and snatching you, he was captivated and wanted to just… watch. You were so pretty. Most ogres found humans to be exceedingly beautiful. No matter the human's gender they made cute little wives. 

Their delicate hands and tongues could greatly pleasure an ogre's prick or massage his big nuts. Rahtrig rubbed his aching crotch in anticipation.

The ogre prince watched you as you ate some fish you had caught. Your tiny little meal that you ate with your delicate little mouth. Then he stared as you disrobed and got into the nearby stream to bathe.

Rahtrig stared in rapt attention at your form. Your perfect small human cock was just so cute. He'd definitely let you grind your cock on his big tongue and let you spill your seed on it. 

He started stroking himself as he watched and fantasized about all the amazing things the two of you could do together. He came quickly, spilling thick cum all over the ground. 

The ogre had to stifle a moan. He wasn't yet ready to steal you away. Instead, he continued to spy on you until you went to sleep on a pile of leaves with only a jacket to cover you.

Rahtrig crept closer and gazed upon the serenity of your sleeping face bathed in the soft moonlight. Then he imagined more domestic and romantic things for the two of you. 

Having you sleep with your head nestled on his huge pecs, lightly drooling on him because of how safe and comfortable you feel. Coming home to you after a long day of hunting or patrol. Maybe even adopting an orphan ogre child and raising it as your own together.

You awoke to find yourself carried over the shoulder of a massive ogre. He stroked your back to comfort you while you cried, kicked, and struggled. 

"Shhh, my small flower, would never hurt you. I'm your husband, Rahtrig!"

Did you hear that correctly?

"What? No! You're not m-"

He chuckled loudly, cutting you off. As if the notion that he wasn't your partner was genuinely hilarious.

"Will feel lots better once we get you on my dick. Will be all you want for days~"

His promise to fuck you until you were a babbling cock addicted mess did nothing to calm you down. His deep, rumbling voice didn't exactly help soothe you either. 

You continued kicking and screaming the entire way until you were just too exhausted to continue.

When he got into the walls of his village, every ogre that happened to see what he was carrying congratulated the both of you on your upcoming marriage. You saw that there were more than a few humans that averted their gaze as Rahtrig passed by with you. Some of them were accompanied by half-ogre offspring.

The ogre holding you saw you staring at the humans and their children.

"You can't get pregnant; it's fine. We'll adopt!"

Your mind swirled with the image of an ogre child much larger and stronger than you running to you and hugging you half to death. And how would you deal with a rebellious teenager that could kill you with one smack? You barely even noticed when he opened the door to a large ogre hut and stepped inside.

Rahtrig sat you down on the bed. You shook in fear as he started a fire. After that, he lit a few candles around the room.  With the hut illuminated, you could see your surroundings clearly.

It was all one room; on this side was a bed and some furniture, and on the other there was a kitchen and eating area. Dried herbs hung from the ceiling, as well as strings of small bones. The heads of various frightening beasts were mounted upon the walls.

You wondered if any of those bones were human and had never wanted to bolt more. But you were in a close walled ogre village, there was really nowhere to run.

With his task of lighting the place done, he turned his attention to you. Much to your dismay.

He took off his large fur loincloth and belt. They were all he was wearing, given the warm climate and the fact that he had only been on a hunt. 

His massive cock sprung free; it was far thicker than your arm and least three feet long, uncut and dripping with precum. It was a slightly darker shade of steel grey than the rest of his body. The musk hit you from several feet away, a heady and manly scent, not exactly unpleasant.

He grabbed a vial of liquid before walking closer.

His balls swung heavily beneath him as he got onto the bed with you, ready to empty their contents deeply into your soft ass.

You cowered and shrank against the wall that the bed was situated beside. Rahtrig could smell your fear. It was unpleasant. You were so obviously stricken with terror. 

That wouldn't do at all. That's the scent you want on prey. Or an enemy you were about to strike down in combat. Not on your pretty bride.

"Calm down, princess; this'll help. Would never hurt you."

Undeterred by your kicks and protests, the ogre prince pulled you over to him carefully and flipped you over on your belly.

Rahtrig opened the vial and slowly poured all the contents directly on your hole, making sure to massage it in as well as possible. You gradually calmed down as it took effect, though you were still quite scared that his cock would simply split you in two.

When he lined up with your hole and sunk into you, though, all remaining anxiety and fear melted away before the pure bliss you felt. 

"Wh-what was in that?"

"Magic potion. Makes humans relax. Also makes em stretchy to take ogre cock."

You only responded by moaning lewdly and pushing your ass back and forth on his dick. Impaling yourself down to the base and creating a perfect stretched outline of his prick in your tummy. 

Rahtrig licked and nipped at your sensitive neck as he thrust slowly. He continued at that leisurely pace until you whimpered for him to go faster. He smirked. He knew once you had been lubed up and then filled with ogre precum that you'd be addicted. Both were potent aphrodisiacs, as was his actual cum.

He pulled out of you and moved you over while he got situated in the bed, lying on his back.

The ogre situated you on his dick and let you ride him at your own pace.

After over an hour of riding him, you had cum several times but were still gripped with arousal. He had cum a few times too; your belly distended with cum that slowly leaked out of you and dripped down his shaft and nuts.

You started crying because you needed more but were just too tired.

Rahtrig wiped away your tears and let you lay on top of him and go gently to sleep as he kept his cock in you to fuck you to sleep.

Eventually his cum and the lube from the vial would wear off, though that could take days. You'd always crave his dick, though, no matter what after the first dose. Though you may still try to resist, it could take a while for you to bond with him. 

He was sure you'd be the perfect wife eventually, though. Even if it took a while for you to be willing. All the humans who landed on the island settled in at some point.

[moeitsu]

Logan Howlett (Wolverine) Headcanons -`♡´-

This is my first time making head canons, and I wanted to keep them sweet and endearing since our boy has been through too much in his very-very long life. As someone who's read a majority of the X-Men comics, I hope you find these true to his character! Enjoy :)

(I got so carried away with this)

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Logan may not say "I love you" often, but he shows it through small, constant touches—a hand on the back, a gentle squeeze of the shoulder, or simply holding hands.

Not a fan of explicit PDA, but will always touch you/stay close in public.

Tough exterior, but when it comes to his partner, he’s an overprotective softie. He’ll insist on walking them home, even if they can take care of themselves.

He can be extremely chivalrous too, always holding open the door for you.

Expresses his love through acts of service. He’ll fix things around the house without being asked, make breakfast before his partner wakes up, or leave a steaming cup of coffee on the counter with a note.

He's always leaving you little love notes if when leaves the house before you or knows he won't be home till late.

Though he pretends to hate it, Logan is a sucker for slow dancing in the kitchen at night, especially if it’s to an old blues or country song.

Any excuse to hold you close to him.

Logan values trust more than anything. Given how many times he’s been betrayed or manipulated, knowing someone trusts him, and that he can trust them in return, is what makes him feel truly loved and secure.

When sharing a bed, Logan always sleeps closest to the door—just in case someone comes through it. It’s a subconscious protective habit.

Always gets better rest with he's sleeping with his partner. The nightmares become less frequent when he's in their arms.

Heaven on earth is when you fall asleep on top of him. Your weight is extremely comforting.

He is incredibly careful with his strength, especially in intimate moments. He’s always conscious of not hurting his partner, and his gentleness with you is something he prides himself on.

I think it would take some convincing for him to be a rough with you. He's a dominant lover for sure, but he doesn't take pleasure in harming his partner.

Logan is an old soul and loves traditional romantic gestures—writing letters, giving flowers, and going for long walks. He may not be vocal about it, but his sincerity shines through.

Actually writes really beautiful poetry but NOBODY will ever read it. The words will die with him...if he ever dies.

God, I just know he is a secret romantic. This is so canon to me.

Tends to murmur endearments in his partner’s ear when they’re alone, things like "darlin’" or "sweetheart," in a tone so low and rough it gives them goosebumps.

Heavy on whispered praises in bed, so low its like he's speaking directly into your mind.

Never, ever forgets a birthday or an anniversary. This goes for all his friends.

Logan is the person everyone goes to when they need to spill their secrets. He never judges, just listens, and gives advice when it’s needed. His friends know their secrets are safe with him.

He's secretly a huge gossip and loves to hear about the young mutants drama. He'll act annoyed but he's listening to every word.

He may not be the most social, but he’s fiercely loyal to his friends. If they’re in trouble, he’s the first to show up, no questions asked.

Incredible memory for his friends’ favorite drinks. When they meet up at a bar, he’ll have everyone’s order ready before they even sit down.

Logan knows when someone needs to talk and when they just need company. He’s the type to sit quietly beside a friend, sharing a drink or a cigar, letting them know they’re not alone.

Perfectly content with sitting in companionable silence for hours.

He’s surprisingly good at cooking, and loves to feed his friends. It’s one of the few domestic things he takes pride in, and he finds peace in the routine of it.

Never breaks a promise, no matter how small. If he says he’ll do it, whether it’s fixing something for you or showing up for a drink, he does it.

Logan brings back small souvenirs from missions for his partner, whether it's a pretty rock he found in a river bed, a flower pressed into his notebook, or a feather tucked into his jacket.

It's his way of saying "I was thinking of you while I was away"

Has a shoebox full of old polaroid's of his long-gone friends. He rarely looks at them, but keeps them to feel connected to those he's lost.

Also writes letters to his dead friends and keeps them in the box as well. It helps him process his grief.

Loves the smell and feel of old books. He can often be found in second-hand bookstores (or Xavier's library), running his fingers over the spines and flipping through the pages just to take in the scent.

Old!Logan needs reading glasses but is too stubborn to admit it. He’ll wear them when he’s alone, grumbling about how small the print is getting these days.

Has a soft spot for classic cartoons like "Looney Tunes." If he’s flipping channels and catches one, he’ll stop and watch, chuckling at the slapstick humor.

Logan is not a morning person. He’s grumpy before his first cup of coffee, and everyone knows to give him space until he’s had it.

"I CAN'T GIRLBOSS WITHOUT MY COFFEE"

He is a creature of habit, and he always orders the same meal at his favorite diners—usually steak, eggs, and a black coffee. The waitstaff know his order by heart.

Logan has a way with animals, even the ones that are usually skittish or aggressive. It’s like they sense he’s one of them, and they naturally trust him.

Modern day disney princess lookin' ass

Logan pretends to hate puns, but deep down, he finds them hilarious. If someone cracks a particularly bad one, he’ll groan, but there’s always a hint of a smile on his face.

*cough cough* I'm looking at you Wade

Ridiculously competitive at board games. Especially Monopoly and Scrabble. He’ll argue over the rules and demand a rematch if he loses.

When Logan is working on something mechanical, like fixing a motorcycle or sharpening his claws, he has a habit of whistling old tunes from the 1940s.

Guilty pleasure for musicals.

I had to put that in I'm sorry...

Has a small collection of vintage lighters from all the places he’s traveled. He likes the look and feel of a good lighter in his hand.

Keeps a collection of old dog tags from the wars he’s fought in. He doesn’t wear them but keeps them as a reminder.

Also has a small but growing collection of "World’s Best" mugs—like "World’s Best Dad," "World’s Best Boss," etc. He picks them up when traveling.

He likes the irony of it, because he would never describe himself as the "World's Best" of anything.

Logan loves the sound of old vinyl records. He has a small collection of blues, jazz, and country albums that he listens to when he wants to unwind.

Secretly believes in superstitions. Like always knocking on wood or avoiding walking under ladders. He knows it’s irrational, but after living as long as he has, he figures it’s better to be safe than sorry.

Hopeless with modern technology. He’s constantly asking for help with his phone, and he’s convinced that A.I. is out to get him.

He’s also been known to tap the screen harder when it doesn’t work, as if that will fix the problem.

Despite everything he’s been through, Logan believes in giving people a second chance. He knows what it’s like to be lost, to make mistakes, and to want to start over. He’s patient with those who are trying to better themselves and is willing to help them find their way.

Logan is a natural born leader.

And he deserves a life full of peace, love, and happiness

Thanks for coming to my TEDtalk!!

[lumi077]

X-Men HCs

A/N: my hyperfixations are not very hyperfixating rn. literally they’re changing so fast. But take some nice little relationship headcanons, and the next Chapter of Winters’ Servants is coming soon!!

Characters included: Logan (Wolverine), Scott (Cyclops), Kurt (NightCrawler), Jean

Warnings: potential OOC, nothing else really. kept it nice and light.

Logan (Wolverine):

Logan would absolutely, if you use them, stretch out your new hairbands for you. If you express that you dislike using them unless stretched, he’ll offer to wear them on his wrists for a day or two till they’re stretched to your liking. It could be the most girly hair ties and he’ll proudly wear three on each wrist. When asked, he’ll happily tell them “Just stretchin ‘em for my woman/man/partner”

Scary dog privileges? Scary dog privileges. He adores making you feel safe enough to wear the most skin revealing or feminine clothing. You want to wear something revealing/very feminine but tell him you're scared? He’ll instantly assure you and tell you to wear anything you want. If someone says something, he won’t hesitate to shut them up before you even hear.

There’s going to be a point in your relationship that you’ll realize he absolutely doesn’t care about any of the gross stuff you do. Burp, Fart, don’t shave? He really doesn’t care in the least bit. Definitely the boyfriend that will go, unphased, into the bathroom while you're on the toilet and brush his teeth or shower without a care in the world. If you are comfortable that is, and he secretly preens when he realizes that you're comfy enough to do that stuff around him lol.

I wholeheartedly believe that when he realizes he wants you to be his forever partner, he’ll gift you his dog tags. His past is very personal to him, because he could never remember it for a good part of it. His dog tags are only second to him getting down on one knee. 

Speaking of getting down on one knee, sorry for all the people who want it to be a surprise, but he won’t make a big deal and will tell you about his plans beforehand. No surprise engagement, and no public one. Not because he doesn’t care, but because he wants to make sure you’re ready and want it too. He doesn’t put much on marriage because it doesn’t change much, and doesn't want you to feel pressured to say yes because there are people there. He’ll love you the same married or not, but he does note how pretty you look with the ring he bought you on your finger.

I personally believe he would be more likely to get in a committed relationship with another mutant. I just think a lot of the X-Men would want to be able to relate to their partner and have their partner relate to them, and Logan is going to live a long life so…I can't truly see him with a normal person. 

If you are apart of the X-Men, while he won’t baby you or anything, he finds himself keeping an eye on you the most. There have been a fair amount of times that you find yourself having a Logan shield on the field, and even more often if you are susceptible to projectiles. 

Dates are a norm at this point, Fridays are always the day he takes you out. It’s usually the same place, but he thinks it’s nice. 

Flowers are also a norm, if you mention you like them. 

He doesn’t do much on Valentine’s day because he already does all the normal valentine’s day stuff it weekly or bi-weekly. Does get cheat food so you guys can eat it and watch stupid rom com movies though. 

Scott (Cyclops):

First and Foremost Scott is such a golden retriever. Anything you want, he obtains quickly and with 0 thoughts of you getting him something in return. He just wants to see his partner happy and healthy, with a smile on their face as often as possible.

He is very big on PDA, likes to hold your hand, or slip an arm around your waist, put his hand in the back pocket of your jeans, etc. Overall he just likes touching you, and just because you're in public doesn’t mean anything.

Adding on to his liking of PDA, I feel like he’s possessive. Like in the one X-Men movie, when Logan goes into the past and stops bad shit from happening and goes to touch Jean and he blocks him? Yeah he does that with you but with everyone. He likes people knowing your his and what’s better than you two being attached at the hip in public?

He likes when you wear his things as well, not so much for people knowing you’re his like mentioned above but just because you're adorable in it. Want his sweatshirt? He’s giving it to you even though it's negative 5 out. His cologne? Just take the whole bottle, even though it’s brand new. He’ll get another one!!

When he’s on missions and away, he gives you so many shirts and even a pair of sweats. Sprays the stuffed animals he got you with his cologne, same with your pillows. He will expect the same if it’s you going away for a long time. Or you’ll come back to him sleeping on your side of the bed where it smells the most like you, his face stuffed in one of your pillows that has one of your shirts on it. 

He is very vocal about being your boyfriend, and you being his partner. Everyone in the world knows, yet no one asked. He’ll gush about you to whoever will listen, the rest of the team is so done but they do admit his devotion to you is adorable.

All the ladies and gents and nonbinary pals who want an over the top surprise proposal, this is your man. It’s super romantic, he pays for your nails if you wear them, getting your hair done, and a new outfit. And you can’t even tell it’s because he wants to propose because he does this all the time. Then he takes you to your fav restaurant and pops the question.

Make no mistake though, he has to be 100% sure that you want him to propose to do so. He’s so attuned to you and your likings he gets your dream ring without having to ask everyone close to you first. Which also assures him no one can spoil the surprise.

He is one of the few ones who probably doesn’t care if you're a mutant or not, because his love is 100% blind. He would probably want a mutant partner, but once he falls he falls hard.

He also won’t baby you if you’re in the X-Men, but if he happens to laser them first? Not his fault.

Kurt (NightCrawler):

He is a very shy partner at first. But once he falls for you, and you make it obvious you have fallen for him it all goes out the window. He is a completely different person around you, confident and flirty. He is just so in love. 

Teases you almost constantly, he’s a teaser with everyone but he loves to see you blush and squirm from his words. 

Loves if you run your fingers through his fur, and almost emits a low purr when you do. If you brush it for him, especially if he doesn’t ask you but you WANT to, he swears he is going to marry you one day. 

He takes you places you told him you wanted to go to when you guys were in the talking stage. Paris? Done, let’s get some baguettes for back home! The Bahamas? Pack a bathing suit, and make sure to bring the detangling brush.

He loves non sexual acts of intimacy, like taking baths together!! Your fingers feel like heaven on his scalp when you massage the shampoo and conditioner in his hair. He also loves touching your body, he’s always careful with the fact he has claws but he would never dream of hurting you.

Big on cuddling and all that stuff in private, but I feel like he would want to keep it behind closed doors. Not because he doesn’t love you, but because he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands on you otherwise. 

Long missions with him are never a problem, he’ll just teleport to you wherever you may be and spend time with you before heading back. 

He’s your call bird, and the gossip you two are able to share with one another? It is divine. He seems to know everything, and you know the most obvious stuff but he always makes you feel like Sherlock Holmes when you tell him things he already heard and was going to tell you about. Which is why he always makes you spill the tea first lol.

For marriage and proposing, I can see him accidentally proposing on a mission. Tensions are high, and he’s worried that one of you won’t make it home to the other. The thought alone makes him dread the upcoming battle, but he grabs your hand and looks into your eyes and states with all the conviction in the world “We’ll get married after this.”

You brush it off, after you both survive the battle, that he didn’t mean it. He just wanted you to know how much he loved you. But oh how wrong you are when you walk into a room with all your close friends and family, Kurt in the middle down on one knee and asking you to marry him. Your face was priceless, and lucky for him everyone took pictures. 

He definitely carries around a photo with you wherever he goes, and when he prays he takes it out and not only asks that God protect him, but you as well because there is no life beyond you. Even if you’re not religious he’ll still do it, just for the peace of mind. 

Jean:

She’s the black cat of the relationship for sure. I mean, she has a lot of issues but she always makes you her first priority. 

She keeps tabs on you constantly. What’s your mood, why? She’ll talk to you in your mind when you’re anxious to calm you, and let you know that she’s there with you. She’s probably an anxious persons’ best friend. You don’t even have to talk, she knows what you mean and changes accordingly. 

She is big on communication for sure. If you do something that bothers or hurts her feelings she will sit you down and talk to you about it. And she has this certain way of doing that doesn’t make you feel guilty. She’s just letting you know what she does and doesn’t like and won’t tell anyone else. These things are very private to her. And she expects you to do the same, and her feelings are never hurt by it. 

Jean’s type of love is selfless. She would put herself in danger tenfold just to keep you safe. Mutant or not, she would be the one to baby you if you’re a part of the X-Men as well. There’s always a kind of bubble around you, that not many but you notice. Hence, people think you’re indestructible because you’re the only one who came back uninjured for the fourth time. 

She wants to be independent, but also loves when you do stuff for her. She will never ask, but her heart warms so much when she sees you did something for her because you wanted too and not because she asked. 

She plans your dream proposal. She is almost a roommate in your own mind, she knows what you like and don’t like. 

Small extra blurb: imagine giving telepathic hints that you want a proposal. She thinks “Why are they broadcasting their ring si-ooooh. I see.”

She is so gentle with you, almost afraid that you’ll break and it’ll be all her fault. The way her hands gently caress you or how she holds your hand is so incredibly gentle.

[smutallyouwant]

Twice One-Shot World chp. 3

Premium Sex Doll

Word Count: aprroximately 3k words

Momo x M Reader

You're a struggling young adult, you got a job that doesn't even suffice for your needs. One day a business man came to your house and offered you a deal that you can't say no to.

Includes: Rape role play

" Fuck my life, my work at the convenient store only pays me enough for my food and rent. I don't even have some extra money to have some fun, bro " you said on the phone.

" Man, maybe if you followed your mom to the States maybe your life would be better "

" Fuck her too, since my dad died she got a new partner and left me. Yes I decided not to go to the States with her because I don't like her having another man " you answered.

" Some luck will surely come for you, don't give up " your friend answered.

*knock knock knock

" Thanks bro, someone is at the door. So bye now "

You walked out of your bed and opened the door of your apartment. A man in a suit suddenly asked if he may come in. You're skeptical at first but what can he get from you if he robbed your house? Nothing, so you let him in and closed the door.

" Please sit down sir, I can only offer you water sorry " you said.

" Don't bother this talk will be short and you can't say no to this "

-The next day came-

*beep beep

A truck pulled over in front of your apartment and brought a big wooden box inside your apartment.

" here's your package sir, we just need you to sign up here "

You signed the paperwork and they left. You opened the box and you lifted a doll wearing white top and white shorts. The man yesterday offered you half a million dollars to try out their sex dolls. They are made with artificial materials similar to silicone but the texture is much more improved and it simulates human skin and flesh. Only 10 of these are contributed around the world. They examined their test runners carefully so that they will not be caught by the law, as their production is illegal. They prefer not so prominent people. But in exchange you have to give up your current job. You accepted and they gave you half the money straight to your bank before leaving.

" Hell, this doll is crazy beautiful. Do I really get to have sex with this? "

You opened the instructions, it said that it needed to be charged but it was delivered full of battery. It said that it has voice control you just need to say " Momo " before the command. The instructions said " Say, Momo, open to activate"

" Momo, Open " you said.

" Good morning master "

" Wwwwoooo " you shouted.

You were shocked that it said a word and also moved like a person towards you. The doll puts its arms on your shoulders.

" You can command me anything , master"

" Call me, Momo " she added.

" Momo, stand still "

Momo stood there and her arms returned to neutral. You're still shocked at this point, you pressed her shoulder and grabbed one of her boobs and it feels just like a real human. On this point you're aroused, you begin sniffing its shoulders and her scent is as sweet as a flower. It's been so long since you did this to a woman and it made you more excited.

You started kissing her neck while groping her ass and boobs. But something is missing.

" Momo, you can move now and moan for me " you commanded.

Momo hugged your neck and her other arm is caressing your face. She also closed the gap between her waist and yours to grind your bulge into her shorts.

" Ugh, master that feels so good "

" Call me Y/N " you said

"yess Y/N, does Momo taste good? "

" Yes Momo, you're so fucking good " you answered.

Her lips are so plump and cute that you decided to take a taste. You slammed your mouth into hers and sloppily kissed Momo. Momo does have some automated actions when taking part in sex activity. It is stated in the manual. She started caressing your bulge and she also kissed your neck. As she does so you removed your pants and underwear.

" Momo, suck my cock. Suck it good "

You lead her to the bedroom and you sit on the bed. She spits on your throbbing cock and licks it wildly before taking it all in her mouth.

" UGHH " you moaned as she does a fellatio on your hard long cock.

" Yes take it like a good girl "

" mmhgh, mmh, mmh " moans are escaping through her mouth.

She is looking at you all this time, and you started pounding her throat but she takes it like nothing.

*golk golk golk golk

You started to forget that she's a doll and thinks of her as a woman that you can fuck all you want.

" Fuck! What a slut taking it all like nothing "

Momo smiled as you dumped all your cum inside her throat. Momo stood up and sat on you as she kissed you deep.

" Ughh, can you go again Y/N? Momo need a rough fucking "

" Of course, but now call me baby "

" Yes baby " she answered.

You pushed her into the bed as you planted your tongue into her mouth. You made out and you began removing her top off, revealing a good set of tits with pink nipples. You sucked the hell out of the good pair and Momo hugged your neck.

" Yes baby suck my tits good, ugh "

You moved down and removed her shorts and underwear revealing a pinkish red slit.

" Fuck what a good food "

You fucking ate her pussy good, she wrapped her legs to your neck and held your head with her palm.

" Ughhh, babyyy you eat pussy so good "

" Suck my clitoris right there "

You sucked and played with it with your mouth and she began shaking violently. She squirted on your face as she shakes.

" UGHHHHH " she shouted.

" Sorry baby I ended up squirting on your face because you're so good at eating pussy"

You did not answer and you just inserted your dick inside her pussy. Momo can adjust her insides depending on the dick of the user, ensuring the best pleasure. You fucked her like a wild animal as you're too horny from her squirting on your face.

" Ughh baby, you'll make me cum again " she whined.

" Here's your reward for squirting at my face slut "

" Yes baby I'm your only slut, fuck this pussy harder ughh "

Her face is so seductive and it shows how good she feels. You felt more pleasure as her pussy adjusted on your dick. She started licking your nipples adding pleasure while you ram her.

" Baby fill me up with your cum, make a baby with me "

You forgot that she can also detect if the user is cumming so her pussy started to grip your dick harder.

" Fuckk here's my cum you slut " you pulled out your dick and you came into her face.

" Here's my revenge " you added.

She took the cum with her finger and licked it while looking at you.

" Ugh baby, I said you should fill me up but it's alright your cum tastes good "

" Oh I'm not done " you said.

You positioned her near the edge of the bed while in a supine position exposing her chest and toned abs.

" Momo, open your mouth and show me your tongue"

As she does so, you aligned your dick to her mouth and fucked her throat like there's no tomorrow. You grabbed both her tits as your leverage, you spit on her nipples and played with it with your finger. Momo reached down her pussy and started fingering.

"You're a naughty little slut, are you Momo? "

She responded with wild moans as you grope and played with her boobs while destroying her throat. She uses her 2 fingers to fuck her pussy with the other arm played with her clitoris. The scene made you wanna cum so bad.

" Here's my cum, take it Momo "

You grabbed her waist and planted your dick deep into her throat. Momo came again and this time she squirted into your bed. You grabbed her by the neck and pushed her head towards the wet part of the bed. Her ass is now exposed as her waist is bent down.

" Lick your piss you slut, taste it "

Momo started licking the bed sheets. As she makes out with the bed sheet passionately you inserted your dick again and started pumping inside her pussy.

" mmmmhhh ,mmhhh, " she moaned pleasurably as you pushed her more to the bed that muffled her cries.

You suddenly grabbed her hair and pulled it causing her to squeal. Your other hand grabbed her by the neck and choked her as hard as you could. Her moans are replaced by cries for aid to breath. Momo can't feel pain but she'll stimulate the effects of such inflicted pain on her. She tears and her tongue is exposed now. As you're finishing you let go of her neck causing her to lay her head flat on the we sheets and breath for air as you shoot your cum inside her. You looked at her as she is like a poor girl licking the bed sheets.

You finished by unloading the cum inside her tank and cleaning her. You cleaned your room and an idea came to your mind.

Her wardrobe included in her box has many types of dress and styles to pick. And it also has many hair styles included. You charged her for the rest of the day and woke her up at night.

" What, where am I and who are you? " Momo asked.

Before this happened you told her to dress up like a nerdy school girl that knows nothing about how he ended up inside your house. You always thought that your rape kink is weird but now you get to try it. You told her to fight back in the start and slowly be submissive as the time went by.

" Oh you suddenly went inside here and you're not going to get out " you said.

" Oh sorry, I'm heading out now " she answered.

You pulled her arm. Her scaredness is very evident as she is shaking and her voice.

" Sorry sorry, please let me out "

You threw her bag to the side and grabbed both her wrist, pushed her to the wall and started kissing her neck aggressively.

She started crying and struggled from your body weight as you push your body towards her.

" Please stopp, I need to go home now " her voice trembles.

You ignored her pleas and started groping her chest. Her arm attempted to push you back but you're just too overwhelming.

" Your chest is so big for a high schooler like you, don't you think? "

You palmed her mouth forcing her into a kiss. She hits you with her hands while your tongue slides inside her mouth and you start sucking her tongue out. Her hands stopped hitting your chest and it rests on your shoulders now. She unconsciously fought back with your mouth and tongue movements. Your fingers wiped off some of her tears as you're making out. The student's crying eyes shut down as her body gave in to your seduction. Her hands caress your body as you grope her breasts more . You gently move towards the bed pulling her and pushing her down to kneel at the floor. You dropped your shorts down and you placed her hand on your dick. Her cries became gazes of lust as she stroked your shaft. You held her face and moved it closer to your dick causing her to suck on it like a lollipop. Her blowjob is sloppy as she simulates a student who doesn't do such things. She is a modest student who just sucked a dick right now.

" Yes just suck it like that "

" mmhhh mhhh mh " her moans escapes out of her mouth.

You removed her glasses.

" Look at me " you asserted.

She looked at you with lustful eyes.

" Do you want me to fuck you? "

She shook her head signalling a " no " .

You slapped her hard into the face that caused her to shout and cry on the floor. You pulled her hair hard and she is begging you to stop.

" please stop, I gave you a blowjob already "

You pushed her into the bed face down and you removed her underwear. You don't want to remove her uniform as the visual contributes to your pleasure. You started fucking her from behind. Her back is arced and her arms pinched the bed so hard as you ram her back.

" Ughh please , I'm hurting " she pleaded .

" You don't have to pretend to be a little girl, you like this don't you? "

" Argghh, no ! " She answered.

" Then why did your ass follow my rhythm and start pumping as well? Look at your exposed tongue as you enjoys being raped "

" No I don't like it " she said while smiling seductively.

You switched position and you removed half of her buttons, revealing her bra and her shoulders. You fucked her missionary as moans came out both of your mouths. Momo plays her tits as you pound her and she accepted your follow wet kisses as you fuck each other.

" Is my cock that delicious ? "

" Yesss ugh, I mean no "

" You don't have to hide it anymore baby girl "

" No it's just that your cock is so huge that it makes me crazy " she said while holding your face with both her arms.

She pulled you into a deep kiss.

" Yesss I'm cumming, keep fucking my pussy like that please "

" I'm cumming inside you "

" YESS please fill my young pussy with your cum "

You came hard into her pussy and both of you moaned in unison. After a short break, you ordered her to suck your dick as you play video games. Before going to bed you charged her and ordered her to wake you up with kisses on your cheeks and a good ol' handjob.

This sex doll is now yours provided that you submit transparent and honest reports to the company each week. She's only programmed for sex activities if not so, you could have asked her to cook for you haha. She's indeed programmed well.

If you're the one that the company picked to be one of the product testers, what burglar things will you do to Momo?

[beloveds-embrace]

rugby player Simon and his pretty little balerina partner. Thats it. Thats whats currently plaquing my mind

Now that you’ve said it I’m thinking about them too because YES 😩 i tried a more headcanony style for this, really had no idea what to write as a drabble

• You first met Simon “Ghost” Riley during an injury rehab session. He’s there nursing a rough tackle, while you’re recovering from an overworked ankle. Despite his intimidating size and silence, he notices how gracefully you move even while stretching, and you can’t help but admire his sheer size even if he’s making the nurses nervous.

• Ghost is, honest to god, shy about approaching you at first; why would delicate, lovely you want someone of his type and build to approach you? But he still gets roped into conversation when you tease him for struggling with a basic stretching exercise. “I’m built for smashing into blokes, not folding like you do.” he grumbles, but he doesn’t sound truly bothered. You are sure you can even hear the amusement. And this is how you end up exchanging number and texting, until he finally asky you out on a proper date.

• He’s genuinely amazed at your discipline and talent, often catching himself zoning out while watching you rehearse. You tease him for staring, but he’s truky awestruck by how effortlessly you glide across the floor, almost looking weightless.

• You love watching him play rugby. Seeing him control the field with raw strength and precision is hot. You start attending his matches, cheering louder than anyone else when he tackles an opponent or scores. His favorite cheerleader- his best girl <3

• Ghost introduces you to his gym routines, and you try (unsuccessfully) to keep up with his weightlifting. You love the view of his muscles flexing, though, and you don’t try to hide it. You also love sitting on his back while he does pushups, giving him a kiss ever so often in encouragement.

• In return, you teach him some basic ballet moves to improve his agility to help him. The image of this massive, intimidating man attempting pliés is hilarious, but he’s surprisingly nimble. “Don’t tell the lads, yeah, doll?” he huffs, though his amusement is clear and it has you giggling.

• Simon loves how tiny you feel when he wraps his arms around you. After games, he picks you up effortlessly, spinning you around as you laugh and lean down to kiss him much to the whistles and hoots of his teammates. Neither of you care anyways.

• After a game, he’s all adrenaline and intensity, body taut. You tease him by saying, “Don’t you dare bring that sweaty self near me, Simon Riley.” but he pulls you into a heated kiss anyway, pinning you gently against a wall in the hallways of the stadium.

• He loves when you practice in front of him wearing your ballet leotard. The combination of your grace and your form-fitting outfit gets his heart and more racing, though he keeps his composure… mostly.

• Simon is also your biggest cheerleader during your performances, sitting in the front row with a bouquet of flowers that looks comically small in his massive hands. He always looks proud, even if he doesn’t say much. And he absolutely glares or shushes anyone who is causing a ruckus and taking the spotlight off you.

• He joins you most of the time in the backstages, and when you’re feeling nervous before a performance, he cups your face in his big, warm hands and whispers, “You’re the most talented person in the room. Show ‘em who you are.”

• You return the favor by helping him relax before games. You massage his shoulders and give him little pep talks, which he pretends not to need but secretly loves. Sometimes of them are even recorded on his phone for the very rare occasions you can’t make it to his games.

• Said it before but I’ll say it again: you love how his body feels next to yours- rugby has made him all broad shoulders and powerful muscles, and he loves how delicate your hands feel running over his skin. Likewise, he loves caressing your skin and rubbing creams and ointments to your aching feet muscles.

• He calls you “Twinkle Toes” which sounds sarcastic at first but is said with so much affection that it melts your heart.

• You call him “Big Softie” because, despite his tough exterior, he’s the sweetest with you. He pretends to hate it, but he secretly loves when you use it in private. Had a stupid smile on his face when saw it was how you had your contact for him saved.

[brnesblogposts]

Do you take this pebble?

Bucky barnes x fem!reader

this was written quickly because if i didn’t do it now i never would so sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes. also i suck at using punctuation so ignore that too!

——————————————————————-

“Hey what’s wrong, Doll?” Bucky asks as he walks into the bedroom to find his best girl crying.

“Penguins” She mutters out and Buckys face turns into a perplexed expression.

“Penguins?” He asks as he scoots onto the bed to get closer to her, laying a hand on her thigh.

“Did you know- did you know that the male penguin will scour the area for the perfect pebble to present to the female as a way of proposing? If she says yes they mate for life.” She starts crying again and Bucky tries holding back his laugh because he thought something had upset you but no you’re crying over penguins.. He moves a bit to accommodate you on his lap, your head on his chest as he rubs his hands up and down your back to soothe you.

“This is ridiculous, i’m ridiculous. Sorry” You apologise for being overly dramatic and Bucky shushes you, you’ve always been emotional and the smallest thing, sad or happy can set you off. He finds it endearing how much you feel.

“It’s okay, baby” He kisses the crown of your head “It’s not ridiculous” He reassures you. The two of you lay there for awhile in each others embrace.

____________ The next morning _____________

After the whole debacle of your emotional breakdown over penguins last night Bucky and you both woke up and got on with your regular activities, him going out to run some ‘errands’ that you apparently weren’t allowed to join him on.. so you tended to some spring cleaning of the apartment.

A few hours later Bucky returns.

“Hey Buck, I missed you” You approach him and wrap your arms around him as he returns the hug, he has a bag in his hand.. a suspicious bag..

“I got you something” He says and you automatically smile, he always thinks of you when he’s out, whether it be him bringing home your favourite treat or a bouquet of your favourite flowers.

“Yeah..? What is it” You beam excitedly and he laughs at your eagerness. You both walk to the kitchen where he sets the bag down on the island.

“Close your eyes and put your hands out” He says and you give him one last suspicious look before you listen and close your eyes. It’s then you hear him go into the bag and get something out, a few seconds later something is placed in your hands, it’s weirdly heavy.

“Open them!” He’s got a bright smile plastered on his face anticipating your reaction.

You open your eyes.

“A pebble?”

“You know how you were telling me about penguins last night..” He jogs your memory and it instantly works because you’re putting it down and jumping into his arms.

“OH MY GOD BUCKY YOU GOT ME A PEBBLE!” He laughs at how adorably excited you are. Eventually he manages to pry you off of him.

“It’s not just any pebble.. break it open.. theres a pretty crystal inside” At this your eyes brighten up, you pick the pebble up and put it on the chopping board and use a hammer that’s meant for meat to break it open. It takes a few tries but eventually you get it open and see what’s inside and pick it up.

“A diamond??” You look at it absolutely baffled and turn around to ask Bucky what it’s all about but stop in your tracks at the sight before you.

Bucky on one knee. Bucky on one knee holding an empty band, looking at you with the most love stricken eyes.

“Accept my pebble and do me the honour of being my mate forever?” He is smiling so big and you stand shocked as tears escape your eyes.

“Bucky..” The biggest grin breaks out on your face.

“What do you say, doll? Will you marry me? Be my penguin partner forever and ever?” He doesn’t get time to prepare himself for the way you launch yourself at him fall to your knees in front of him and wrap your arms around him so tightly

“I take it that’s a yes?” He himself is tearing up now and you lean back to look at him unable to form words simply nodding as tears stream down your face. He takes your hand and puts the band on it.

“Well need to take it back to the jewellers so they can put the diamond in” He starts to explain but you shut him up with a kiss that tells him all that you couldn’t say.

“Bucky Barnes I won the lottery with you” You say cupping his face and kissing him again.

“Doll you have no idea the way the universe answered my prayers by allowing me to find you.” He mutters out as he starts to properly ball and you both cried and kissed and hugged and started dreaming of the rest of your lives

reblogs appreciated if you liked it!

[parti-poppers]

[cammys-imagines24]

•Being in a Relationship with Levi•

People are terrified of you.

Just because of the simple fact that you're Levi Ackerman's partner, so his scariness has by association, traveled to you as well.

You're treated with respect, everyone listens to you and goes out of their way to help you because if word got back to Levi that you had been mistreated, well...

Let's just say that it never ends well for the person who has dared to disrespect you.

He is the most thoughtful partner ever. Acts of service is his love language. He will remember everything about you.

How you like your drink of choice, your favorite flower, your favorite foods, if you're cold he will wrap his emerald cloak around you.

Your favorite flowers will show up on your bedside table with a note whenever he is away for a long time, your favorite drink, like tea or coffee, will show up on your office desk whenever you're swamped with work.

He'll memorize your fears, your dreams, your likes and dislikes.

Levi pined after you for so long before ever daring to start anything with you it's not even funny.

He's lost so many people and the thought of losing you, too, made him feel so weak and he hated feeling that way.

But then eventually he realized that he loved you whether you knew it or not, and you had made a home for yourself deep in his heart, all without trying to, so he just decided to tell you how he felt.

And since then he has had so many nightmares of you dying.

He wakes up, from what little sleep he manages to get and immediately searches for you.

The sight of you sleeping soundly, soft and warm, at his side comforts him in ways you cannot even imagine.

You don't know obviously, because you're asleep, but he will pull you close and whisper how much he loves you, grateful you're not conscious to hear the crack in his voice.

Levi may not be able to reach things on the top shelf for you, but he will personally lift you up in his arms so you'll be able to reach it yourself. Showing off just how effortlessly strong he is.

Calls you "love" in private or whispers it in your ear whenever others cannot overhear him.

Whenever you suggestively call him "Captain" he will have you bent over his desk in 10 seconds flat.

You two have had sex in his office more times than you can count.

Lowkey calls you his "wife" before you're even officially married.

Especially if you're being hit on by another man.

Levi will sidle up to your side, glare ice cold daggers at the scum, wrap an arm around the small of your waist and say to them, "Are you bothering my wife?"

They'll take one look at humanity's strongest soldier, how if looks could kill they'd be six feet under already and scamper away like a frightened mouse.

Matter of fact, Levi already bought your wedding ring a long time ago and he keeps it in his uniforms pocket always.

So whenever Levi goes out on missions, and fights titans beyond the walls, he can feel the weight of that ring and know that he has someone to return home to.

He will propose to you once the battle has been won, when the War is finally over, but until that day he will keep that ring as a reminder.

A promise to you, and you don't even know it yet.

Incredibly protective, but not in a controlling way. He knows you can handle yourself but also, you're the love of his life, so he is always ready to defend you.

There isn't anything Levi wouldn't do for you and he would protect you with his life.

He figures, you are his heart, so he will do everything he can to make sure you're both safe and alive.

[multific]

Praying for a Man

Marcus Acacius x Reader

Summary: You pray to the Gods for a loving husband. You least expect General Acacius to be the one the Gods see most fit.

You were always the romantic type, searching and yearning for love.

This was thanks to the stories your mother used to tell you when you were a young girl.

Stories of heroes and love.

Stories of men fighting for the woman they love.

Because of this, you found myself yearning for a love that would consume your heart and soul. 

With hope in your eyes, you offered prayers to the Gods, pleading for a partner who would not only love but also cherish and protect you. 

Little did you know, the holy forces had heard your pleas and sent a man for you.

General Marcus Acacius.

Marcus, a man whose primary concern was safety, possessed a heart filled with tenderness and a desire to keep you happy from the moment his eyes landed on you. 

He exceeded all your expectations, leaving you breathless with his gestures of affection. 

He offered you flowers. Beautiful flowers he said to match your beauty.

Every evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Marcus would keep you in his strong arms, creating a sanctuary of warmth and security.

His romantic nature was evident in every action he took. 

From surprising you with delicate flowers, to preparing elaborate candlelit dinners. 

Marcus knew exactly how to awaken the passion. 

His thoughtful gestures extended beyond material offerings, as he showered you with compliments that made you feel like the most special person in the world.

Marcus possessed a natural ability to understand your needs and desires. Whether it was a simple touch on the cheek, a soft caressing your hair, or a lingering kiss that expressed his love without the need for words. 

He had a talent for melting away any worries or fears within you. His presence alone was soothing to your soul, it was a constant reminder that you are never alone in this world.

As your love blossomed, Marcus continued to earn your affection in countless ways. 

He would often surprise you with handwritten letters expressing his deepest emotions, and books, lots of romantic writings to ease your mind during the nights he was away. 

He would go out of his way to ensure your comfort, be it a simple warm bath after a long day or simply holding your hand as we strolled through the busy streets of Rome.

Through his unwavering devotion and unwavering commitment to your happiness, Marcus Acacius truly captured your heart.

 His romantic gestures and tender displays of affection earned your love, and in return, you gave him exactly that. 

A wife who loved her husband very much, did everything for him kept his food warm, his house became a home and his heart got full.

Your souls are entangled in a bond that surpasses time and place. 

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou 

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief 

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen 

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[pseudowho]

Grandpapamin

(help me find the Nanami artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

When Nanami Kento becomes a grandfather...

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Kento thought the happiest day of his life was when he became a father...but then, his baby had a baby.

It was like love...squared.

He and you dutifully took care of your daughter's house while she was in labour. Kento pruned the plants, and baked, and paced, and paced, and paced.

While Kento knew in his heart his daughter was being well cared-for, he felt stunningly unable to protect her while she went through the biggest day of her life.

In the night, you woke, and your hand brushed out across the sheets for Kento...only to find him not there.

You creep through the house, and find him sat in the armchair by lamplight, his eyes glistening with tears as he goes through an old box, full of photographs of his baby, little onesies, a handprint in clay, a decoration she made at school, her first drawings and handwriting.

You sit with him, in front of the fire, warm and reminiscent, of those long-short years when your babies were babies.

"...she'll be alright?" He worries aloud.

"She'll be more than alright. She'll be amazing," you reassure, kissing his greying temples, stroking crow's feet.

You lead him back to bed, his hand dry, like soft warm leather, and you hold each other with the earnest familiarity of an aged love.

When Kento's phone rings at 7:37 in the morning, a time he never forgets, he is out of bed with a lithe hop, answering, desperate for news.

A sweet, swooping joy, an excited wake-up, an embrace and relief; his grandchild is born, and everyone is safe.

Kento has a grandson; his daughter is resplendent, pink-cheeked, exhausted and proud. Kento holds her close, shedding tears into her hair as she cradles his new grandson; "I'm so proud of you, darling. I always have been. You deserve him."

He drives his daughter and her partner home, knowing they are exhausted.

Kento and you never overstay your welcome; you ensure the new family is comfortable, give kisses and hasty reassurances that you are both just a phone call away, and go home.

Kento cannot stop jiggling his leg in delight on the way home. He is imagining all the wonderful things he wants to do with his new grandson.

Kento calls everyone-- Gojo, Yuuji, Ino, Higuruma. Everyone is delighted. Everyone secretly wants him to be their grandfather.

It is only when Kento and you have gone, that your partner opens the freezer-- "Oh my god!" They exclaim, laughing, "I think your dad has cooked enough to last us a month!" Kento has, obviously. He believes in being organised.

Kento spends the next few years of his life being a thoroughly naughty responsible grandfather.

Visiting Grandpapamin? Oh, only the finest will do.

While Kento always plans wonderful meals with you, his daughter turns her back for just one minute, and returns to find her son with a treat in his hand.

Kento pleads ignorance as he slides the biscuit tin back into the cupboard, a glint in his eye.

Wickedly good at hide and seek. Teaches his grandson all the tricks.

Takes his grandson down to the river, Kento in some waders, his grandson in shorts and rubber boots up to his knees, with little nets, glass jars on strings.

Kento has a reference book for everything; birds, fish, flowers, trees...he and his grandson catch minnows, his grandson splashing, holding his little round cheeks in joy.

Kento thinks his heart might burst, retaliating playfully when his grandson splashes him, giggling.

Kento's grandson is well-versed on the flora and fauna by the little river, by the time he is a grown man. All he wanted to inherit from his grandfather was the old reference books they pored over together.

His grandson inherits Kento's Cursed-sight too, a truth which Kento feels deeply responsible for, as he did when it passed down to his daughter. He fears for his grandson and the terrifying visions he will see in the world.

One day, you catch Kento teaching himself little magic tricks. He curses as he gets tangled in long colourful handkerchiefs; you laugh and blush as he pulls garish flowers out of his sleeve for you. He shows them to his grandson like he has known how to do magic his whole life.

After long sunny days in the garden and by the river, you often find Kento asleep with his snoozing grandson drooling on his chest. You take a photo, every single time, put a blanket over them and leave them in peace.

Kento, who tucks you under his arm on the sofa when they've all gone home, your evenings as intimate as they have always been.

Kento would rather his daughter didn't spend all of her hard-earned money on daycare. Instead, Grandpapamin arrives at her house at 7:30am sharp, ready to babysit ahead of the workday.

The days are silly, wholesome. Tears and tantrums are swiftly, calmly de-escalated. Kento can and will persuade and bribe at mealtimes.

Kento who is just disappointed when his grandson behaves badly-- and that is so much worse than angry.

Kento who takes such good care of his and your health, determined to spend as many healthy years with his family as possible. His old scars ache and creak though; he longs for the sun and sea.

The next year, his grandson is big enough to carry Kento's birthday cake to him, and Kento grumbles, pink-eared as he mulishly accepts a chorus of "Happy birthday". There is an envelope with the cake.

"What's this?" He grumbles again, shooting his daughter a chastising look, "I told you you didn't have to get me anything." She smiles at him, lovely brown eyes twinkling. Kento looks inside-- tickets. Flight tickets. He looks up in surprise, eyebrows raised.

"Kuantan?" He presses, excited despite his earlier chastisement.

"I thought we could all go. Together."

Though his blade hangs up on the wall, proud and displayed, at your insistence, Kento feels like he has been bestowed with the luck of the gods, to have dodged every bullet to get here.

His old scarred burns tingle and prickle, his eyepatch is old and worn, but his grandchildren never feared him; he is just Grandpapamin. He bakes. He takes them to the river. He teaches them how to whittle. He gives the best advice. He wears the softest cardigans.

Kento, who spends the golden years of his life with you, his world, the one who hung the stars.

[vrystalius]

HELLOOOOO!!!!!!!!!! Is it okk to ask for like Hashiras/upper moons reaction to a little kid having a crush on reader?? Sorry if this sounds weird btw 😖

Hashira’s reaction to a child having a crush on you

How will your husband react to a small boy having a sweet, innocent crush on their wife?

Pairing: Sanemi, Kyojuro, Gyomei, Giyu x fem!reader

Sanemi Shinazugawa

He will not let the crush slide. The first time Sanemi noticed the dreamy stare of the kid, how he was admiring you quietly from afar with a shy grin on their face, he stares at them with his usual intense glare, but didn’t do anything else about it. It’s just a small crush after all. But once the kid’s getting a little more hands-on by offering you a pretty flower he found on his way to the estate or shyly asking you to play with him during breaks, Sanemi would get more hands-on in return by playing along, as if fighting for your honour in a more childish way. He’d slip you into his arms and lift you above the ground, holstering you onto his shoulder and smirk at the surprised kid, watching you quite literally get kidnapped.

“She’s mine, kid. Get lost.”

Yet, once the child starts feeling heartbroken from you gently rejecting his advances, explaining how you are already married and how he should seek a nice partner of their own age, Sanemi’ll give them a small pep-talk while also slightly intimidating the poor boy at the same time by saying things like “You should become stronger, and maybe you’ll win her over one day” and “Still, be nice to my wife or else I’ll hear about it”. Despite everything, your husband respects the guts the kid has, confessing their love to you despite having a husband like him.

Kyojuro Rengoku

He finds it absolutely adorable! The kid actually confessed to Kyojuro about their crush first, seeking support and encouragement from him despite being the husband of yours. He can’t suppress his grin while they innocently explain all the things he likes about you; you’re pretty, you’re super nice, so strong and make super yummy snacks for them when he comes to visit. Kyojuro would start playing along with the kid, handing him small gifts he could give to you. Together, they once even made a handcrafted charm, both of them gifting it to you on Valentine’s day. In the evenings, you and your husband would quietly laugh about the adorableness of the kid, wondering if he’ll ever stop crushing on you.

“I might have competition! I’ll do everything in my power to convince you to stay married to me, my flame!”

Kyojuro greatly respects the child’s admiration for you, viewing it as an early sign of nobility. Whenever the kid gets shy or nervous around you, your husband might give him a pep-talk about bravery and kindness, saying that he’ll one day find his own wonderful partner, exactly how Kyojuro fell in love with you.

“I’m afraid that you’ll have to one day find a partner of your own, the woman you like so much sadly is already married to me.”

Gyomei Himejima

Your husband is soft-hearted about it, a little teary eyed by the innocence of the whole situation. You told him about the boy that always fights his way up the mountain just to come visit you and keep you company while you do boring tasks. He senses the pure heart of the child, never getting jealous or overprotective of you, instead Gyomei is calm and even entertained by the antics of the boy, how persistent and determined he is. He treats the kid and his feelings with respect and even sits him down to talk. One afternoon, your husband sits down with the child with some mochi for the boy to eat while he talks.

“When we care for someone, we do what is best for them. If you truly admire her, then always be kind, always be respectful. Even if she belongs to another, you can still honor her by being the best you can be.”

Giyu Tomioka

His reaction is a rather quiet one, as expected. Giyu is confused by the whole situation at first and doesn’t know how to react upon seeing the boy shyly approaching you with a bright blush and smile on his face, asking you to join him play. He watches as the kid’s innocent crush obviously shines through by stumbling over his words or by avoiding eye contact and kicking his feet around. Your husband feels a weird uncomfortableness pool in his stomach while watching from two afar, not quite understanding how he’s getting jealous over a child having a small crush on you. Is he seriously that insecure about himself?

As the boy’s antics continues, Giyu might start to show affection more openly when the kid is around, placing kisses on your cheek or holding you closer against his body by slipping an arm around your waist. It’s his silent way to “mark his territory”. Eventually, your husband would sit the kid down and have an awkward conversation with him about having crushes on people his own age and that you’re too old for him. Besides, you’re also married. To Giyu.

“You’re young, you’ll maybe understand one day.”

💠

I’m actually very sick right now and extremely nauseous, that’s why this fell a little short XD I hope you enjoyed this anyway, anon!! Today, my Tamagotchi evolved into Sanemi! He’s so adorable I can barely put it into words XD apparently if I do things right, he can also evolve into Genya in three days! Thank you for leaving all the kind comments and reblogs, I really love reading them all <3

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <3

[bea-does-stuff]

𝐀𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 (𝐇𝐒𝐑 𝐱 𝐘𝐍)

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 696

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨: 𝙎𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝘿𝙧 𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙞𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙛𝙛 𝙖 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩𝙮, 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙤𝙧 𝙣𝙚𝙜𝙡𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙩𝙤𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙨 𝙮𝙣'𝙨 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙞𝙩 𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙛𝙖𝙨𝙩 ^^

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎

Arguments with him are nothing less than common, with his genius complex and snappy attitude, you both end up initiating an argument about something neither of you truly care for, and of course, you're the one who usually ends up apologising, even when he was in the wrong

This being said, one time, there was one time, he went too far

“God! I truly wonder how you manage to exist and function with that sad excuse of a brain!” veritas snapped, you were use to him saying stuff like that, and you knew he never truly meant them, but it was getting so repetitive you had enough

You didn't even bother responding, you simply slammed the door and headed outside for a break, and as for veritas, he probably cooled himself off with a relaxing bath

It was only when he was done destressing, when he realised the horrible way he spoke to his dearest partner

Upon your arrival, he initially tried to give you space, he stayed in his library reading, as you did your own thing, but the guilt stabbing through his chest slowly became too intense for him, and he quickly rushed to where you were

“Dearest,” he mumbled, you didn't give him an answer, he didn't deserve it

He huffed at your comment and left house, which left you stunned initially, until he returning home with a bag full of your favourite foods, as well as flowers and a plush of your favourite animal

It was so clique, but he didn't know much about this topic, he was always superior, he never had a need to apologise to others, but he wanted to apologise to you, out of respect for you

You sighed and nodded “its fine, veritas” he looked away, scoffing as his cheeks bloomed a faded pink 

“Good. that is good.” he whispered, you had to know dr ratio pretty well to sense the relief in his tone

“I must say, this is a very thoughtful way of apologising, 5 points” you teased, he rolled his eyes, fighting back the small smile crawling up his face

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘

He is prideful, very prideful, and when he has an opinion, he leaves no room for others input or objectively wrong opinions, which makes it almost impossible for him to apologise

Arguments with him feel like speaking to a wall, on very rare occasions will he say anything, almost making it seem like this situation was…meaningless to him, like your feelings were meaningless to him

This one day made you snap, and you actually began to sob quietly while you were arguing

This made him glance back at you, a look of surprise and…dread on his face

“My angel…” he mumbled, but you rushed out before he could say another word, leaving him alone with his racing thoughts

Despite being a cold, rational and controlling serafin, he is a very paranoid individual, and his mind began to flood with possibilities of you leaving him behind to find someone better, or thoughts of you growing to hate him and seeing him as the control freak others label him as.

Because of this, he let you have your space, and spent an hour or two asking his dear sister robin for advice, she was a lot more well versed in tending to people's feelings and apologising for making someone hurt

Once robin was done lecturing his brother, sunday returned to the house, finding you buried under a layer of cushions and blankets

“Angel…i…” he took a deep breath and looked at you with those…piercing yellow eyes

“The way…that i disregarded your feelings…it..it was unacceptable and cruel” you slightly lifted the blanket on your face, staring at him, still slightly upset

“I…deeply apologise, you don't deserve such cruelty from a man who dares call himself your lover”

You sighed, a sad yet relieved smile on your face “you apologising is a strange occurrence, so i know you mean it”

He brought you to his arms, his wings fluffing up due to how happy he was to have finally worked up the courage to apologize and make you smile

Robin would indeed be proud