#the case of the perfect husband
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
ineffabletwaddle13 · 7 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
All of Sherlock Holmes' tummy tapping! (unless I missed some)
76 notes · View notes
honestlyewww · 2 months ago
Text
If you guys want a jiang cheng and wwx reconciliation fic, where wangxian are also happily married, a case fic, POST CANON OMG THE BEST FIC EVER, its extremely well written. Its also pretty realistic and they dont just become best bros all of a sudden, they take their time, accept that things are not the same as they were before and they have each other. Also kinda funny
Summary: <p>Faced with a case surrounded by a mysterious source of resentful energy with signs of demonic cultivation at play, Jiang Cheng sees no other options other than to begrudgingly ask Wei Wuxian for his help. Without hesitation, Wei Wuxian comes with his protective husband, Lan Wangji, in tow.</p><p>In the depths of the darkness and danger, certain truths will come to light. And maybe - just maybe, there will be some long awaited closure along the way.</p><p>(or alternatively, a yunmeng bros reconciliation fic)</p>
8 notes · View notes
fideidefenswhore · 6 months ago
Text
Anne's ability to hold the king off for seven years is part of her legend. The brilliance of her strategy was to cast herself in the role of the courtly lady, requiring Henry to play to perfect knight. Henry was nothing if not dogged in the pursuit of all the roles in which he cast himself—philosopher-king, warrior, even husband—and 'this persona of courtly lover...was fully formed in Henry and had been signaling...for an answering adept to come and lift its latch. In Anne, he had her: she was the mistress of Petrarchan contraries [...] the perfect [player] for the king's tender interest.'
Renaissance Prince: Elizabeth, Lisa Hilton
#henry viii#lisa hilton#'even husband'- that's all folks closing theme.mp3#so we see the relevant argument a lot that the seymours 'successfuly' replicated this which is kind of...yes and. no?#tl; dr it is really difficult to conceive jane managing to balance this tightrope for seven years (not to mention. three years thereafter#in a series of increasingly challenging circumstances)#(before edward vi is born i don't think their rise is comparable to the boleyns in the 1530s or the howards in the 1540s insofar as#the promotion of the queen-in-waiting's/queen's family members)#(it can be argued the seymours did maintain for longer bcus there was a plateau. in favour and rise. iyw. after edward vi's birth. or more#specifically: jane's death.)#is it possible? ig we don't really 'know' definitively#but considering anne was a successful intercessory agent even in her role as mistress#and jane was not even as queen. i...highly. doubt#there is of course the mystery of behind closed doors to be considered#(DID either of these women fully 'hold him off'? did they necessarily...want to?#but no pregnancies out of wedlock- well. elizabeth. ig. depending on who you ask- broadly speaking then#would suggest both did. and it's more likely in anne's case despite rumors for both bcus#seven years is a much longer period of time)#tl; dr the original quote is 'her blowing hot and cold was the perfect environment' WHICH#perhaps fits better for that argument- (they were the perfect players for those moments in time~ in henry's psyche as it were...#that by 1536 henry's tolerance for being 'challenged' by his lover had. worn pretty thin#however since we don't have anne's letters. i don't like summaries like that lol#we have no way of judging ourselves whether she was 'blowing hot or cold' or if henry was - maybe even willfully- misinterpreting her#whether they really were 'mixed messages' or henry was mixing them himself bcus they weren't what he wanted to hear#'my great folly' and all that. sooo.......
11 notes · View notes
moibakadesu · 4 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
8 notes · View notes
dessertbird · 1 year ago
Text
Daily Destiel 💙💚
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Tombstone. 🤠😍❤️
32 notes · View notes
widowshill · 4 months ago
Note
Character bingo: Elizabeth Collins Stoddard, the woman the myth the legend
Tumblr media
Her.
#i have like. two very distinct strata of thought when it comes to liz. 1 is practically diegetic which is that i worship the ground she#walks on. i love this woman. no flaws. whatever liz says is the truth.#strata two is i think liz stoddard is a Very Compelling case study on the expectations of womanhood in a post-ww2 america#(but always with previous centuries leaning very heavily on her shoulders)#that liz is under certain expectations when it comes to her performance of femininity; of domesticity; of wealth (and of achieving tangible#economic success in the business); of heterosexual marriage and of motherhood#and on the one hand liz is Constantly performing and she does very well; she has made herself into a myth and is all but above reproach by#most if not everyone in the town; her word is Truth. she's more than queen; she's practically divinity.#on the other hand. all those facets of the perfect midcentury mother and wife and matriarch have fracture lines in them.#a husband who has been long missing (killed); the house is shuttered and rotting; as she is shuttered and rotting#anyway. she's fun. i don't necessarily think everyone is wrong about them per se but i do cherish my interpretation of#liz's story threats as reflective of comp het and violence enacted on sapphic women through the institution of marriage#in liz's era; marrying paul in the immediate post wwii period in the midst of the lavender scare;#when the new american heteronormative ideal was forming; and liz has to Perform; and through marriage runs into truly nightmarish violence.#all this to say. wow what a character. thank you joan and art.#➤ answered. ┊ Collinsport 4099.#➤ meme responses. ┊ boo !#dying-suffering-french-stalkers
6 notes · View notes
elizabethrobertajones · 1 year ago
Text
Good choice for an upstanding roegadyn husband for Frog to bring home to her parents to impress them: Rammbroes
Hilarious choice for bringing home an upstanding roegadyn husband to alarm and frighten her parents: Rasho the captain of the confederacy in the Ruby Sea.
17 notes · View notes
lannisterdaddyissues · 2 years ago
Note
I love reading your replies and brainrot tags! It motivates me a lot and I will keep drawing for this! Thank you so much 😭 baby!Bradley will be such a cutie! He likes baby!Jake but doesn't want to admit it gshags, I keep wondering who can be Bond then my friend said Hondo and omg inagine a big doggo, so huggable 🌷 icemav chemistry remains the same hahaha with Mav and his horrible cooking and Ice being a perfect husbando 🌷 both love their little family! (Also imagine Cyclone in a tennis battle with Mav and witnesses him cut a tennis ball into pieces lol)
NGHNSFHJGFAHJf oh my GODDD hondo as bond is so cute wtf 🥺i am LIVING for this, he does have such huggable energy and he and mav would still have that friendship that transcends human and dog communication…
NOT CYCLONE AS FIONA THOUGH you are such an evil genius for that, i can’t get the mental image of cyclone in an ugly wig and tennis dress out of my head now 💀 god help me
#also i just realized when i was ranting in your tags that i mixed up who is on the westalian side and who would be on the ostanian side LOL#anyway i cant possibly imagine who would be yuri in this case 💀 nobody likes mav enough to be that insane over him except ice LMFAO#maybe goose could be like. a non-incest version of yuri. maybe you could combine the blackbells with yuri to make the bradshaws#goose could be mav’s extremely overbearing best friend/older brother who is constantly checking in on the family#to make sure that ice is measuring up as the perfect husband for mav bc he has extremely high standards for mav’s partners#and carole is his equally effusive wife who is constantly up in ice’s business because they’re family which means no secrets between them#and she’s a funky gossip who wants to know every intimate disgusting detail of their private lives as a married couple#only the best for mav ofc 💅#and bradley oh my god BRADLEY WOULD BE THE REAL YURI THOUGH#HE’S SIX YEARS OLD BUT SEES ICE AS COMPETITION FOR HIS FAVORITE UNCLE MAV’S ATTENTION#AND WILL NOT GIVE UP UNTIL ICE IS GONE#SO ICE HAS TO WIN HIM OVER BUT HE CAN’T#and then bradley and jake could go to school together#so now on top of operation strix and befriending the enemy for world peace jake has to befriend bradley to keep him off ice’s back 💀#and bradley doesnt like jake at first either LMAOO#thats all the brainworms i have right now but honestly switching it up and putting the bradshaws in yuri’s place would be so hilarious#hope you enjoy my thoughts 💐#ask#reply#miichiyochin#miichiyochin-sideblog
6 notes · View notes
readwritealldayallnight · 11 days ago
Text
Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who from the moment he laid eyes on you, has only ever referred to you as his wife
You, this sweet little thing, running through the halls on base one day when you turn a corner and nearly run headfirst into the Lieutenant, who’s walking alongside Soap
“Oh! Sorry about that, sir.” You told him, never slowing down in your hurried pace as you snuck around his large frame and continued down towards whatever you were evidently late for
The only reason his gaze had followed your retreating form, was that unlike everyone else, you had met in his eyes when you spoke, even smiled warmly up at him
That one smile and he was done for
“Who was tha’?” The sergeant had questioned, seeing Ghost’s attention still fixated on you.
“Think that was my wife.”
“Yer what?!”
Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who makes it a point to let everyone know that you are in fact his wife
Well, everyone apart from you apparently
He would certainly never abuse his position as a Lieutenant, but some new recruit had the audacity to whistle at you as you walked by? Well 100 laps around the base don’t exactly run themselves
Another soldier saved you a seat next to him in a briefing? He can enjoy scrubbing toilet seats for the next week in that case
Someone actually had the bollocks to ask you for your phone number? Perfect, he needed a volunteer for demonstrating hand to hand combat to the recruits, medics on standby of course
By the time he properly introduces himself to you for the first time, it’s understood by everyone else around that you are, for all intents and purposes, Mrs Riley
Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who listens to you tell him your name in a voice that resembles music to his ears, hardly bothering to remember your last name, seeing as it’ll be changing soon enough anyway
“You can call me anythin’ you want, love.” His deep, gravelly voice had sent shivers down your spine, cheeky smirk widening beneath his mask. “So long as you call me, that is.”
By the end of your first date, (you were sitting alone in the dining hall and he wordlessly joined you what do you mean this isn’t a date) he’s wondering if you’ll insist on a ceremony or if he can sweep you away to the nearest courthouse and make this official, slipping a ring onto you finger and his cock into you
You had laughed when he put his number into your phone and named himself ‘Husband’, certain that the man was only messing with you, some kind of hazing that you apparently weren’t aware Lieutenants played on the new communications hire, but it was only fair seeing as he’d saved your contact under ‘Wife’
Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who is over the moon every time you play along, even if he knows you believe you’re only playing
“Ach, thanks Lt. Just what I needed.” Soap said, seeing Ghost’s approaching form enter the common room, holding a steaming cup of tea in each hand
“S’for my wife. Get your own.” The older man gruffly replied, sliding the mug onto the side table next to where you’re curled up on the couch, reading a book
“Aw, thank you honey.” You giggled, smiling up as him with an expression he thinks would taste even sweeter than honey if he were to run his tongue across your upturned lips
“Happy wife, happy life, sergeant.” Ghost shrugged, ignoring the other man’s pout, landing next to you and reaching an arm behind you across the back of the couch
“God, maybe I really should keep you.” You’d laughed, reaching a leg out to dig your socked toes into his muscled thigh, teasing him
Grasping your foot into his large, strong hands, he began massaging it, uncaring that you were only two of the many people in the common room, not when you looked at him like that, smiling together as though you truly were nothing more than a married couple
Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who surprised you one day, insisting he needed your help with something crucial off base, and drove you to a local shopping outlet to look at none other than dresses
“Is there some sort of party happening?” You’d questioned, confused out of your mind
“Suppose you could consider it a party.” He’d answered, leading you through the many racks of dresses, you noticed were all, very conveniently, white
“Now while you’re lookin’ through dress sizes,” he’d added, taking your left hand in both of his. “You know your ring size? Got my own shoppin’ to do ‘round here.”
Tumblr media
Series masterlist
11K notes · View notes
alicentflorent · 3 months ago
Text
#this is why the 'karmas a bitch' and 'what did she expect siding with the leopards eating faces party' comments are so annoying#people love misogyny when it's directed at a woman they don't like (@saintalicent)
“Alicents finally experiencing the misogynistic system that she helped create” “Alicent is finally experiencing misogyny that she put Rhaenyra through” literally if you can’t understand that this woman was born into misogynistic world where women have no rights or claim to a future of their and has been experiencing misgoyny her entire life. Was used a pawn by her father, married to an older man at 15, forced to have four children and had to play the role of good virtuous queen, wife and mother even though it was eating her up inside. She ultimately just survived inside the system which she had no control over. If you think that she never understood misogyny or cared about the impact I can’t help you
115 notes · View notes
ineffabletwaddle13 · 1 year ago
Photo
Tumblr media
Holmes pops in through his client’s window
74 notes · View notes
whateveriwant · 1 year ago
Note
Task force 141 reacting to their very pregnant wife still trying to clean, cook etc
This turned more into ���Task force 141 preventing their very pregnant wife from trying to clean, cook, etc’ lmaooooo I hope that's alright
Price
HA! Good one!
No seriously, it's actually hilarious that you think you'd do anything for yourself when your hubby's around
That man has been waiting on you hand and foot since you first got together. So now that you're pregnant and you think he'd let you so much as lift a finger? You must have a serious case of pregnancy brain, sweetheart
Price is doing all the cooking, the cleaning, the running errands, etc. throughout the entirety of your pregnancy (and at least the first several months postpartum)
He's kept you practically bed bound these last few months to the point where you think there's a perfect indent of your body molded into the mattress
Seven months in, he's suddenly called away to a quick mission halfway across the globe, and you think finally you'll get some of your autonomy back...
Well, think again because who should show up at your door the next morning than your mother-in-law herself, ready to pick up where her son left off
She came at the behest of your husband, of course, and was armed with a detailed set of care instructions
What does your husband think you are? Some sort of one-of-a-kind, priceless artifact that needs special handling? (Actually that's exactly what you are. Price-less… I'll see myself out 🚶🏻‍♀️)
Ghost
When it comes to having some semblance of independence during your pregnancy, Ghost will give you a bit of a longer leash than Price, but only just so
You’re going for a walk around the neighborhood? Hold on, let him grab his coat to join you. Or you're going into the backyard to tend the garden? He'll pull the weeds while you water the plants
But when it comes to letting you do certain things, there are some hard nos that he will absolutely not budge on
You try to use a stepladder to reach the top of the cupboard? Stop! You'll break your neck! You try to pick up anything heavier than 10 pounds? Stop! Give it here! You try to drive?... Don't even fuckin' think about it, precious.
The farther along your pregnancy progresses, the better he gets at predicting (and intercepting) your next move
You were gonna do laundry today? Well, wouldn't you know, he's already got a load going in the washer. You were about to make dinner? Well shucks, he just ordered takeaway from that Greek place you love
His ability to read your mind is honestly impressive once you get past how damn annoying you find it. Just because you're pregnant doesn't mean you're incapable of fending for yourself, and you're tired of him acting as if otherwise
But really, you can never get mad at anything he does for you. After all, what kind of a husband would he be if he didn't take care of his missus and your little one?
Soap
If you take Ghost’s cautiousness, mix it with Price’s thoroughness, and crank it up to an 11, you get Soap
From the moment he found out you were pregnant, he put your house into full lockdown mode, stopping just short of booby trapping the front door in case you got any funny ideas
You want some fresh air? Just open a window. You want to go for a walk and stretch your legs? Just take a few turns about the living room like you're some Austenian heroine
Don't let him catch you doing any kind of physical labor, because so help him Jesus he will grab a spray bottle and use it like you're a feral alleycat he's trying to house-train (he wouldn't really... but don't test him)
You try to unload the dishwasher? Ehrr! Wrong move. You try to remake the bed? Ehrr! Nice try. You try to mop up your own mess. Ehrr! Enough already. You try to– OCH, WOULD YE BLOODY SIT DOWN, WOMAN?!
For nine long months during his requested leave from work, your husband is attached to you like some kind of loving, smothering barnacle
But doesn't he miss his job, or the lads for that matter? What if the world needs saving? What will they do without him?
Well, (in his exact words) fuck the rest of the world! You're his world, bonnie, and he'll give you everything you could ever wish for and then some
Gaz
By far, you have the most independence with Gaz than you would with any of the other three men… at least, at the beginning of your pregnancy, that is
Once you get to around five or six months he becomes just as helicopter-y as all the others; he's just ever so slightly more bearable, perhaps
There's lots of peeking his head around the corner to check on you throughout the day or appearing seemingly out of thin air whenever you're doing something he'd rather you wouldn't
You've lost count of the number of times you've been in the middle of cooking or hanging up the laundry or whatever and his hand has suddenly appeared out of nowhere, gently taking the object from you before directing you to sit and rest
And like, look. He knows you can handle yourself. He knows you could conquer the whole world if you wanted to. That's one of the things he loves about you the most
But seeing you like this – so fragile, so vulnerable, so beautiful and soft and pregnant with his child; his child – it just… It makes him…
He just needs to do these things for you, alright, love? Just let him take care of you, please? Would you let him do that?
You already have so much you have to carry. Let him ease some of the burden off your shoulders. Let him do these small things for you because they don't even compare to all that you're doing for him 🥲
16K notes · View notes
captn-duck-gremlin · 2 months ago
Text
Like it all started when you and some friends decided to do some urban exploration, visiting a broken abandoned military base. Now while there your friends are of course being dumb, touching things with bare hands, no face coverings to protect them from whatever harmful things could be in the air, respect for the possible dead is on floor level with them. You on the other hand, you got gloves, a face mask just in case, you're apologizing to anything you bump into. You did the research, this place went down from an unexpected attack, so there might be a corpse around somewhere (or lingering spirit). You give a short prayer to anything that looks like a corpse, regardless if you follow in those beliefs or now; you just want to be respectful to the dead. And yes, this place is haunted. Obviously. Now the important part, at one point or another 4 damned souls have clung to you. You dont notice at first, you barely feel that buzz that you're being watched. But the first unnatural thing to happen to you starts in a dream, a weirdly detailed dream. You're a housewife in the 50s. Cute summer dress, lovely home, nice street. But it feels too real, the patterns on the walls stay perfect no matter how long you stare at them, you can read lines from books you've never seen before, you look at your hands and they don't look distorted like they usually are in dreams. Then a man walks through your front door like he owns the place, you don't recognise him. At all. Yet he speaks to you in such a nice rough voice from his cigars, calling you such sweet things. Treating you like his wife. Then after what felt like hours from playing housewife you wake up, confused to hell and back. You brush it off until the next night, where you're sucked into another oddly very detailed dream, but its so different. From housewife in the 50s to maiden in the ye old times. The man is different, instead of tough, friendly bearded husband, you now have dark knight with skull markings. Helmet stays on at all times, but despite the rough and scary armour and vibe, he treats you like you're the finest silk, the sweetest flower, like you'll shatter if he so much as looks at you wrong. And after living through that you wake up once again incredibly confused. Is this what the backrooms feel like? You don't know, you don't want to know. Night rolls around once more which you dread and sure enough another weird dream with a new life. Now, at a farmland on the outskirts of an old styled town, you got chickens, goats, two cows, some ducks and a bulky husband with a silly mohawk. You don't know what year it is, what century you're at, at this point you're just rolling with it. Husband got a nice accent, Scottish you might think it is. He's absolutely spoiling you, treating you like a princess for no reason. Not like you're complaining. After that dream, you wake up contemplating that you might be losing your mind. But no, you're just being haunted by demons who like spending time with you through your dreams. Moving on. 4th weird dream, this feels further up into recent years, maybe 2000s. Cute husband, looks like a sweetheart, is a sweetheart. His skin is darker from the other ones, but not like you could tell with Sir Skull and Bones. He has a smooth voice, could probably sweet talk a bear. Time with him was almost too sweet. You swore his pupils nearly went heart shaped when he looks at you. And like the rest of them, you wake up confused. And thats just how your nights go, things in the day go.. strangely.
Oh and quick reminder, don't run from them.
2K notes · View notes
cao-tick · 1 year ago
Text
There is two side of the philever fandom:
The "Genius Forever and Old Man Phil"
And
The "Hardcore Philza and Silly [yandere] wet cat"
[The poly fans are here too /patpat]
AND THEN WE ALL UNITED FOR THE GREATEST "They are two great dads watching the sunset"
Forevers character is so funny. Competent, rich, genious man, who is cracked at the craft and cares deeply for his family. He uses his huge brain to protect the eggs at all costs. He is thoughtful, determined and consistent in his goals.
Enter Phil. A random gremlin of a man who happens to look like someone Forever knows.
Proceed to reduce Forever to a complete idiot. This man is now feral for one thing only - the love of a man whos only traits are violence on sight and boosh boosh.
879 notes · View notes
acid-ixx · 3 months ago
Text
a loving family, an unpalatable desire
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.
a/n: would anyone hear me out if i ever wrote romantic yan! bruce (ft. platonic yan! batfam AND romantic yan clark kent alongside the superfam ofc) with a neglected spouse reader... because uhm, i've been thinking about it lately just yk... so anyways PLSPLSPLS send in asks about this, ive been thinking about it so much lately.
imagine wanting to raise a family so badly with a man who adopts problem children as a side hustle. you're not some invasive spouse, you've always been good, always been loving, so... so accepting, never questioned where or how he picked them up from the side of the streets, never once complaining about the hickeys on his neck or the once neat tussles of his hair now tangled accompanying lipstick stains on his white suit.
you love your children, you tell yourself all the time. you love them, you love bruce— even if he doesn't love you. you said it in your vows, despite it being scripted, despite your family finally sighing in relief in the sidelines at finally being able to sell you off to one of the wealthiest man in the world, rather than being wasting off under their care— your vows are real.
you wanted someone to love you, unconditionally, so viscerally eternal that it eats you up.
really, all you wanted was to play that fantasy life of trophy house spouses. all you wished for was a loving, healthy relationship. the american dream: the picture perfect family frames, your husband kissing you on the cheek as he leaves for work, your children bickering at the dining room, with the scent of homemade meals wafting about the vicinity. all you wanted was the warmth in your chest to flicker like candlelights. all you dreamed about was that domestic life, an escape from the abusive household you were raised in.
yet the manor is too cold, too unforgiving for a soul such as yours.
the longer you stay inside claustrophobic, yet oh-so large hallways, the quicker you drown in a neverending pool of self-hatred.
but you're not allowed to show them your sufferings. they've been through much worse, you tell yourself. they've suffered more, and as what good spouses do, as what you're taught, you stay silent, enabling them to turn you into their own emotional punching bag.
you only allow yourself to cry at the dead of the night, under the sheets of your too-cold blanket and your too-hot pillows. when the manor is filled with deathly silence and a looming sense of dread and ill fitting thoughts of ifs and when they'll come back in one piece, will you grant yourself temporary respite; worry for a family who never even called you their parent.
yet you've always been so considerate. despite the pang in your chest every time bruce flirts with anymore potential love interest at a gala, you chose to instead monitor your chaotic children, who have always never bat an eye on you despite you always gazing lovingly at them.
you know of their interests, they don't know yours, yet you still give them extravagant gifts on their birthdays, with tired, yet glinting eyes, and a silent excuse to return to your room; one separate from bruce.
you know of bruce's hardships, but you don't push too hard, don't force him to talk, only provide him your silence and an offer to serve him dinner; all the time he refuses without looking at you. you give him comfort only if he ever allows you, only if he allows his walls to crumble— but not even his spouse can amount to a warm, crackling fireplace. to him, you're probably only a matchstick under the deadbeat glaze of the snow in a winter night.
maybe that's why you're such a ghost in the manor, stalking through the hallways, looking out for any of your children in case they come across you with any injuries. maybe that's why eventually your resolve weakened.
and maybe the absence of familial love led you to find comfort in another man's arm.
''til death do us part,' is such a tragic saying in your case, because you know it in your fragile heart that bruce's love for you was never alive in the first place. and yet you allow him to play you like a fiddle, allow him to slowly allow you to slip away from his nonexistent grasp.
and now, you're a stand-in parent for clark's son, jon, after the tragic loss of his wife. now, your world seems a lot less bleaker, as you play the fantasy of a loving house spouse, fully abandoning the life you left behind, a life you've never been gifted with until now. you want to feel guilty, you want to feel absolutely terrible but the heartache of neglect has become too much and all you do was allow clark to warm you up each night, kissing away your tears and spooning your deep-seated anxieties away.
you don't let the past eat you up, not when the present is too perfect, too freeing, too delusionally beautiful.
your son, jon provides you every joy a parent could have. parent's day gifts, heartfelt letters at every nook and cranny of your shared bedroom with clark— even reading him bedtime stories, allowing him to sleep in your lap after he slowly nods off, with clark knocking softly on polished wooden doors, greeting you with a loving kiss on the lips and a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand—
it's everything a parent wants, needs even.
and you're everything clark, and especially jon wants, needs in their life.
so it's such a stupid mistake, really. a slip of the tongue, a too-enthusiastic smile, incredibly bright, shining eyes. it's not jon's fault, you still love him either way. but it's an error still— one a complicated matter at hand, so dreadful for you, that jon accidentally, all-too-suddenly, mentions you as his parent to damian.
a loving, wonderful parent, he says, with a picture of you in his wallet shoved right in front of his friend's face.
Tumblr media
3K notes · View notes
pathologicalreid · 1 month ago
Text
all we ever do is talk | s.r.
Tumblr media
in which Spencer and wife!reader fear they're getting boring, so the BAU sets them up with a hotel suite for Spencer's birthday
margotober masterlist
who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: i don't remember. hold on. oral (f and m recieving), fingering, unprotected p in v sex, breeding but not like the primordial kinky type just like, having sex to get pregnant, drinking wine, this is like circa s11, not proofread i'm just a girl, david rossi being rich for the plot, i hate hate hate the word pussy but here we are, softdom!spencer. spencer reid certified gift giver! word count: 4.17k a/n: a fic based on a del water gap song? who's surprised? no one! anyways i blacked out toward the end of writing this one no clue what happens here also sorry about the breeding thing i really don't know where that came from
Tumblr media
The robe you wore was luxurious, and the cumulative cost of every item in your hotel room likely cost more than you made in a year. Needless to say, you were starting to feel out of place in the room, your hair and makeup done to perfection as you waited for your husband to arrive.
Reaching into your pocket, you slip your phone out and check for notifications. JJ was your babysitter for the night, and even though she had insisted that everything would be fine, you had never actually spent a full night away from Eleanor. You had no idea how Spencer did it time and time again for cases.
You: Everything good? JJ: Shouldn’t you be with Spencer right now? You: He’s on his way. You: Everything good?
She responds with a picture of Nell, your sweet toddler, who was seemingly too focused on the bowl of mac n cheese in front of her to even look at the camera. You type out a reply to JJ before forwarding the photo to Spencer.
JJ assured you that Eleanor would be in good care with her and Will, and it’s not that you have any doubts, it’s that she’s your baby and this is your first time being away from her.
The door to the hotel room clicks, and you set your phone on the comforter, watching as Spencer walks into the room before returning the key card to his wallet. “Hey,” you greet from the bed, crossing one leg over the other.
“Hey, honey,” he says, striding over to you before pressing a soft kiss to your hairline, “You smell nice.”
You nod in the direction of the bathroom, “I got here early and took a bath.” Slowly, you take a better look at him, “You look good, I like that suit on you.”
He holds his arms out and looks down at himself, “I heard through the grapevine that you have a fantastic dress for tonight, so I figured I needed to pull out all of the stops.” Years ago, Rossi had gotten all of the BAU men custom designer suits, that must be the one your husband had chosen to wear tonight. It was fitting, seeing as Rossi was probably fronting most of the bill for your night.
“I’ve never heard Penelope referred to as a grapevine before,” you respond in jest, getting up from the bed before you make your way to the bathroom. “She helped pick the dress,” you inform him, shedding your robe before stepping into the dress. It was a short, black velvet number that clung to the contours of your body in a way that you hadn’t thought was possible. Instead of straps, two dainty chains went over your shoulders, leaving excess dangling over your back.
Spencer clears his throat, “So, how did the drop-off go?” He missed the big goodbye, which was probably for the best.
You sigh, “Nell was great. I was a mess.” You had only been given a few days to prepare for being away from her.
Carefully pulling the chains over your shoulders, you look at yourself in the mirror before slipping your heels on and stepping out of the bathroom. Spencer was standing in front of the windows, watching the sunset over the horizon, “For what it’s worth, I had no issue with the original plan for tonight.”
Initially, you had planned to celebrate Spencer’s birthday at home with Eleanor, and there was meant to be a party with the rest of the BAU tomorrow evening. Somehow, the team had gotten the idea that the two of you needed an evening out, so they chipped in to give you just that—some members more than others.
“I’m always alright with spending quality time with my girls, but—” his voice cuts off as he turns to look at you, “Never mind.”
You chuckle, “What?” Looking down at yourself, you smooth out the front of the dress with your palms.
His eyes wander as he unabashedly checks you out, “I’m finding with every passing moment that this might be my preferred plan for the evening.” He watches attentively as you go back to sitting on the edge of the bed, fixing a twisted strap of your heel while Spencer stands directly in front of you.
“When was the last time we went out on a date?” You ask, strapping your heel around your ankle.
He hums, fake thinking about your question even though he knows the exact date, “However old Nell is, add approximately ten months,” he answers.
You look up at him, your face warming in surprise, “Has it really been that long?”
Spencer nods mournfully, “Almost three and a half years,” he sits down on the bed next to you, placing his hand on your bare thigh and swiping at the soft skin with his thumb.
Holding your hands up to your face, you glance at Spencer with wide eyes, “Oh, Spence. When did we get boring?”
“We aren’t boring,” he insists, “We have a two-year-old. We work.”
You raise your eyebrows at him, “Other people do those things, and they’re not boring.”
He matches your look, “We aren’t boring,” he repeats. “Let’s make a deal,” Spencer offers, “Tonight, you and I won’t be boring.
“Right, so we’ll have a glass of wine at dinner tonight and then return to being boring tomorrow?” You say glumly, watching as he shifts on the mattress, adjusting his weight distribution.
“No,” he whispers, leaning over to press a kiss to your lips before sliding off the mattress, leaving him on his knees in front of you.
Blinking absently at him, your heart jumps at the sight of him in front of you, “You know we have dinner reservations, right?”
He gives you a slightly incredulous look, “You know it’s an open reservation, right? We have it until midnight.”
Your head bobs in acknowledgment, silently permitting him to part your knees, and you watch him come to the realization that you weren’t wearing any panties, “I didn’t want any lines to show under the dress,” you explain. There was also a part of you that hoped your evening would go in this direction.
Placing his hands on your hips, he pulls you closer to the edge of the bed, rolling your dress up to your waist, leaving you bare in front of him, “You’re perfect,” he breathes, “I don’t tell you that enough.” His fingers carefully prod at your core, a ghosting of pressure as he sweeps his index finger over your folds, an array of goosebumps forming over your skin.
Your breath hitches when he grips one of your thighs, placing it over his shoulder in the way he’s done numerous times before, but it always seems to take your breath away. “You tell me plenty,” you say, the sensation of his breath on your wet heat affecting you in ways you haven’t felt in ages.
“That’s not nearly enough,” he scolds himself, craning his head forward to press a kiss to your clit, chuckling when you jump as a result.
Releasing a breathy laugh, you look down at Spencer, your heart racing as you await his next move, “Then tell me again,” you whisper.
Spencer hums in response, slipping his pointer finger inside of you as he murmurs, “You’re perfect.”
You let out a soft moan as his finger slowly starts moving out, taking it slowly as you lean back on your hands, careful not to mess your hair up too badly, “Spence,” you whine at the pressure.
“I know,” he tells you, “It’s been a while, huh?”
Closing your eyes, you nod quickly as he slips a second finger into your cunt, a gasp escaping your lips as your body stretches around his fingers, “It’s been too long,” you tell him, lifting one hand to your mouth and biting down on your knuckle to muffle your sounds—a habit you’d picked up since having a baby.
He hums, peering up at you through hooded eyes, “This is a honeymoon suite, angel. It’s engineered to keep sound in.”
Your hand drops obediently, falling back to the mattress as you ignore the implications of the BAU reserving the honeymoon suite for you and focusing on your husband, who was bending his neck down to suck your clit. His lips encircle the sensitive nub as you let out a low whimper, knowing what’s about to come making you apprehensively excited.
Steadily, Spencer works at you, thrusting his fingers while suckling at your clit, periodically using his tongue to apply pressure, and reveling in your high-pitched moans as he drives you closer and closer to what you’re sure will be your first of many orgasms of the night.
“Oh my god,” you gasp, moving one hand to the top of his head, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging at the strands.
He shifts on his knees slightly, coming up for air as he adjusts the angle of his fingers inside of your cunt, going back down on you as his fingers find a new pace. They curl inside of you, targeting the spongy button that makes your abdomen tighten and your thighs tremble.
Overwhelmed, you repeat his name like a prayer while you pull at his hair, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you cry, helplessly staring at the ceiling while Spencer keeps his motions going, his fingers relentlessly thrusting into you while he sucks at your clit, encouraging your orgasm.
Your walls clench around his fingers as your orgasm rips through you, your legs shaking as your husband remains buried between your legs, working you through your orgasm, “So perfect,” he pants, gently massaging your pussy as he withdraws his fingers, pressing soft, tender kisses to the insides of your thighs. “We don’t even have to go to dinner,” he says, looking at you hungrily.
You smile down at him, “We should go, Dave called in a favor to get us this reservation.”
Spencer straightens up and nods in agreement, holding his hand up to your mouth, “Open,” he says, looking satisfied when you poke your head forward, putting your lips around his two fingers and tasting yourself on them.
Sucking your own slick from his fingers, you focus on his eyes as you swirl your tongue around them, watching the dilation of his pupils because you know exactly what effect you’re having on him. He slips his fingers from your mouth before dropping a kiss on your lips, the entire exchange reminiscent of the time before you had Eleanor. You weren’t complaining.
Checking his watch, Spencer stands up straight in front of you, helping you stand, he holds onto your waist while you find your balance, “How are you feeling?”
You peer up at him through your mascara-coated eyelashes, “Most decidedly not boring,” you answer, following him into the bathroom so the two of you can clean up.
Tumblr media
“C’mere,” Spencer beckons, looking at you from across the table. “You’re too far away,” he explains, the table at the restaurant keeping the two of you apart when you’ve already established that you want to be close tonight.
Taking your napkin off of your lap and setting it on the table, you grab your glass of wine and make your way to your husband. In the private room that had been reserved for you, “Here I am,” you present yourself to him, the privacy glass that surrounded you concealing the way his arm snaked around your waist, guiding you to his lap.
He smiles up at you, “That’s better,” he says, your legs latticed over his own.
Looking over your shoulder at the table, you hum an acknowledgment, “This table is almost comically large for two people.” You imagine it’s intended to be fancy, a long, glamorous table for a glamorous restaurant. You lean your head against Spencer’s, closing your eyes and appreciating your closeness, “Happy birthday, my love.”
“It’s not my birthday yet,” he murmurs, tipping his head back and kissing you softly, the taste of the wine that had been chosen for you was faint on his lips.
A soft giggle bubbles in your throat, “Then I’ll have to stay up until midnight so that I get to be the first one to tell you.”
Humming, Spencer settles a hand on your thigh, giving it a comforting squeeze, “The real challenge there is staying up until midnight.”
“I’m sure we can think of something to keep us up,” you grin cheekily, swinging your legs. “So, before you’re officially older,” you begin, “What do you want to do with your next year of life?”
“Finish the bathroom remodel,” he answers almost immediately, referring to your main floor bathroom that had been in disarray for months. The countertop that you had chosen was still on backorder.
You raise your eyebrows, “What do you want to do that will help us on our pursuit to become less boring?”
Spencer studies your expression, taking his time before answering, “I’d like to at least discuss having another baby,” he responds.
Admittedly, it had been on your mind recently. With Kate leaving the BAU to spend time with her baby and JJ announcing she and Will were expecting, considering having a second baby wasn’t out of the realm of imagination. “You want another baby?” Your question is soft, you look at him, studying the brown eyes that he had passed down to Eleanor.
He nods, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing circles on your bare thigh. “I know that you’ll bear most of the responsibility if we have another baby. I’ll still be around as much as work will allow, but there’s only so much room for variables in the BAU. I wouldn’t want you to feel alone in it, but I— I’d like for Nell to have a sibling.”
“Okay,” you breathe, not needing much convincing to come to a conclusion. Admittedly, you weren’t expecting this conversation tonight, but it wasn’t a conversation you’d ever had before. Eleanor was about as much of a surprise as a baby could be.
Spencer looks surprised at your reply, “What?”
Slinging your arms around his shoulders, you shrug, “Let’s have another baby. This time next year Nell will be three, so, now almost feels like a perfect time.”
“It takes most couples months to conceive when they’re trying,” Spencer tells you, “Only about thirty percent conceive in the first three months.”
You raise your eyebrows doubtfully, “How long does it take couples who have a luxury hotel room to themselves for the night?” Your loaded question easily slides off your tongue as you lift your hand to his chest, thumbing the silk fabric of his tie while you wait for his answer.
He led the way to the hotel room, luckily the hotel and restaurant were connected; you would’ve hated for a cab driver to see you dazedly staring at your husband with the promise of what comes next.
Pulling his keycard from his wallet, Spencer pushes the door open, dragging you in behind him before pressing you up against the wall. You shove at the lapels of his jacket, trying to get it off of him.
Haphazardly, you drop pieces on the floor, Spencer’s jacket, your heels, his tie, everything falling away as the two of you stumble to the bed. You yelp when you fall back onto the bed, Spencer catches himself above you and a fit of giggles erupts from your mouth. A sort of light, airy feeling goes through your head while you’re beneath him, the freeing feeling of knowing you’re about to have sex and you don’t have to worry about your toddler knocking on your door was overwhelming.
You kiss him while fiddling with the buttons of his dress shirt, pulling the white fabric from where it was tucked before discarding that as well. “Wait,” you say breathlessly.
Spencer sits up, panting as he looks down at you, “What is it?” He asks, eyes searching for something wrong.
You prop yourself up on your elbows, “I bought lingerie for tonight,” you tell him, eyes flickering over to your overnight bag. The blue, lacy set was calling your name.
Hovering back over you, Spencer bows his head and presses a soft, unhurried kiss to your lips, “Show me later?”
Nodding, you watch him as he pulls his undershirt off, another bundle of fabric lost to the ground. Gently, you push at him, making it so his back is on the mattress as you place one knee on either side of his waist.
His hands tug at the hem of your dress, ruching the fabric around your waist as you slowly grind your hips over his. “Fuck, baby,” he hisses, already tightly wound after your earlier activities.
Understanding, you start to leave a trail of kisses down his chest, continuing to go lower until you’re unbuckling his belt and undoing his fly, placing your hand over his already hard cock and palming him on top of his briefs, “You’re so hard,” you moan, your mind thinking ahead to when he’ll inevitably fuck you.
In the interim, you tug his pants and briefs halfway down his thighs, leaving his length standing at attention for only a moment before you duck your head, licking a long stripe up the veiny underside of his cock. Spencer’s hips buck up from the mattress in response, and you take him in your mouth, using your hand to touch what you can’t fit in your mouth.
Pressing your tongue flat against the head, you moan with him in your mouth when he grabs a fistful of your hair. You were no longer worried about your appearance, only about driving him as crazy as possible.
“Angel,” he says, his voice strained, “I can’t— I need to be in you.”
You lift your head, moving back up to him and straddling his hips again, placing your bare pussy on top of his hard cock. Wiping drool from the corner of your mouth, you raise your eyebrows at Spencer, “Are you ready?”
He nods, mouth falling open when you lift yourself up and position his length at your entrance, “Oh, wow,” he breathes, gently rubbing at your clit as you ease yourself onto him, your walls throbbing around him. His hand settles on your hip as you take a moment to adjust.
Pulling at your dress, you tug it over your head, leaving it on the floor of the hotel room, “Ah,” you sigh, rolling your hips slightly to try and help your body adjust.
“Absolutely no lingerie necessary,” he says, his eyes studying your body as if he’s seeing you for the first time all over again. “I’m so thankful for you, my girl,” he murmurs with lust-hooded eyes.
You hum in response, bending at the hips to put your lips on his, a whimper escaping your lips when his hips buck up from the mattress again, “Fuck, call me that again.”
“My girl,” he echoes, thrusting up into you again. “I’m not going to last very long,” he admits, groaning as you start to lift yourself up and down on his cock.
Small whines come from your lips with every movement, you shake your head, “That’s okay, we can…” your voice trails off, “I don’t think I will either.” The admission comes as a bit of a surprise to yourself, you hadn’t realized you had gotten so worked up.
Snaking his hand between your bodies, Spencer focuses his attention on getting you to your second orgasm as your movements grow unsteady, “You’re doing so well,” Spencer encourages you, knowing you aren’t usually on top.
“Shit, Spence,” you gasp, your resolve failing as your torso drops forward, giving him the freedom to continue lifting his hips up into you, “Oh,” your cunt clenches down around him, “I’m cumming,” you tell him, burying your face in his chest as you cry out. His thrusts start to overstimulate you as he chases his own orgasm, and eventually his movements falter.
You can feel the pulsing of his cock inside of you as his hot cum fills you, a tired sigh as his rigid body relaxes back into the mattress, “Oh, my girl,” he whispers, smoothing your hair back as you catch your breath on top of him, “Why don’t you stay up here for a little bit?”
Nodding, you look up at him, a pink flush splattered across his face as you watch him, “I love you,” you breathe, glancing at the clock, “Happy birthday.”
Spencer spares a glance at the clock, three minutes past midnight, “I love you too, angel. Thank you.”
You sigh, lifting yourself on shaky arms and grabbing a box from his bedside table, “This is for you.”
He releases a breathy laugh, obviously amused at the idea of opening a birthday gift while he’s still buried inside of you, “I got you something too,” he admits, sweeping a strand of hair from your face.
Tilting your head to the side, you frown, “It’s not my birthday.”
Shaking his head, Spencer agrees with you, “No, but I find I can’t resist giving you gifts.”
You inhale sharply when he twists to open the drawer of the nightstand, pulling out a rectangular box and resting it next to him so he can start to open the gift from you.
“Oh, honey,” he says, opening the watch box. His old one had a damaged mechanism and needed to be replaced, but it wasn’t something he was likely to spend the money on for himself. Naturally, you did it for him.
You raise your eyebrows, “It’s engraved,” you explain. Watching him take the watch out of the box and look at the back, the dates that you had carved in being significant markers in your relationship. Your wedding anniversary. The date Eleanor was born. There was plenty of space to add more dates too, should the time come.
“It’s perfect,” he tells you, placing the watch back in the box to keep it safe, “Thank you,” he says, shifting under you as he reaches for the box.
Rolling your eyes, you accept the box anyways, “Now, why would you get me a gift for your birthday,” you tut, undoing the ribbon on the box before opening it. “Oh,” you breathe, “Oh, Spence,” you say, tears pricking your eyes.
Inside of the box was a necklace, and strung on the dainty chain was a teardrop-shaped sapphire. “It’s Eleanor’s birthstone,” he explains, “I saw it last time Penelope dragged me to the mall with her, and I thought it was perfect for you.”
“It’s beautiful,” you say, moving to fasten it around your neck, the only other thing adoring your body being your wedding ring. You grin at your husband as you duck down to press a kiss to his lips, half-conscious of the way he’s kicking his pants off until he’s flipped you onto your back.
He hums as you moan, “You’re beautiful. You’re so, so beautiful,” he muses, burying his face in your neck and placing soft kisses along the column of your throat.
Opening your legs more, you invite him to come closer into you, “I would have agreed to have another baby a long time ago had I known I’d be treated so well,” you tease him gently, gasping as his lips attach to your breast, littering kisses all over you.
“I always treat you well,” he insists, taking a tentative thrust into you before taking you into his arms.
You whimper softly at the pressure on your pussy, “Spence,” you sigh, your sensitive cunt clenching around his cock. “Oh, god yes,” you mutter as he begins to find a pace, pressing his full length into you.
He drops a kiss to your shoulder, “I know baby,” he says, sticking to his rhythm and pushing your legs open wider, “I’ve got you.”
A curse falls from your lips as you screw your eyes shut, tilting your head back and gasping at the sensation, “I love you,” you tell him.
“I love you too,” he says, equally out of breath with you as he fucks into you with abandon, chasing a new high as you dig your nails into his back. “You’re so good for me, baby,” he hisses, “I’m gonna cum in you,” he warns, snapping his hips to yours.
A high-pitched moan comes from you as he paints your insides with his cum, the sensation of him filling you leading you to your third orgasm of the night as your walls pulse around him.
The two of you stay like that for a moment, waiting for someone to catch their breath as your eyes go wide. “Are you alright?” Spencer’s the first to speak, carefully pulling out of you and chuckling lightly when you whine at the empty feeling.
Nodding, you turn your head to the side, “Yeah, are you?”
He smiles, “I think this might be the least boring birthday I’ve ever had.”
Tumblr media Tumblr media
1K notes · View notes