#the domestic bliss of it all. the tiny little moments between them all

[bikananjarrus]

season 1 of rebels is so good actually

[sandsorghum]

Clouds & Curtains

husband!Nanami x wife!reader

wc. 1.3k

summary. Perhaps Nanami's approach to...rousing you in the mornings has changed over the years.

tags. Established relationship, Domestic bliss | Romance | Smut | Body (& Soul)Worship | Mentions of Nanami wanting to be a father

a/n: Super soft, super indulgent piece. Have your cake and eat it nanami girlies. Sometimes i just need to write him a love letter ok

Prologue

Back when you'd just begun to be intimate with each other, Nanami tended to be a little embarrassed about his subconscious (but hardly subtle) desires for you. He would rather suffer his internal, infernal dilemma than disrupt your rest. But he couldn't quite control his urges, squirming between decency and depravity, not when you'd rub up against him, so innocuous and merciless.

It was a hard habit to shake; how Nanami felt he ought to earn your every quiver against him, every whimper, however much he yearned to feel you tremble at his moans at any given moment. It was codified in him, there was a time and a place and patterns to follow, before he could permit himself the pursuit of your shared pleasures.

Of course, you'd unveil him in the evenings, the privilege of your touch stripping bare the prerogatives of his flesh. You unraveled him, his reticence, his reasoning, his very capacity for speech, by braiding your breath and fingers with his, in the friction-begetting-friction tangle of your lips and limbs together.

Yet he still thinks of these mornings, that find the two of you entwined, as an undeserved luxury. So Nanami would do his best instead to focus on your face, how sweet your peaceful expression was. It would be wicked of him not to cherish this, he'd chastise himself for wanting more, for wanting to drown in your adoring gaze, for wanting to return it with his own hungry one, body and spirit beggared by the night, by the hours not spent beheld by you.

Nanami assumed the beauty and tenderness of your countenance would quell, or could sate his appetites, would tame the primal stirrings in his belly. But nothing could be further from the truth, in fact they had the opposite, compounding effect; a lump in his throat would rise, and his desperation would thicken till he could only helplessly rut his hips against you.

And then your eyelids would flutter open, and in the crease of your knowing smile, all his definitions, his distinctions, all that distance between need and greed would collapse with a single kiss.

Years later, and your husband is so absolutely shameless about his...early head starts to the day. He pulls you into him, snug against the cleft of your ass cheeks, content to let your scent and radiance seep through the thin fabric and warm him in a way the sun, in its reluctance behind the clouds and curtains, can never hope to.

He stares at the petulance drooping off the petals of your lips, rose bud coiled tight before daybreak can coax it to unfurl for strobes of gold. Nanami is a patient man, too patient you've often thought, yet you feel his phantom touch, a tender sweep of your mouth, a zephyr whispering in the wings, billowing brocade and swelling muslin, ghost pulling you through the gauze of sleep.

You shift against Nanami to hear him sigh your name, soft and distant, thick with slumber and affection and it's this which rouses you more, not merely his growing rigidity pressed to the curves of you. Although, it helps, feeling every inch of his hunger like this, in a slow swirl and pinch at your waist, the gentlest rocking as your breasts are cradled in his palms, familiar persuasion pebbling your areola. You know he dreams of them swollen with milk, that all your memories of his teeth are girded by the desire for them to be suckled by the most innocent of mouths, baring only gums and tiny wails. Your nubs stiffen and a small smile stretches across your face at the thought that with his wish to grow a family fulfilled, he might find also a small regret, of his monopoly of your mounds contested by another, to whom he owes the genesis of your body's generosity, that sweet fullness dribbling, stolen, into your husband's mouth, enticing in its envy.

This prospect of hypocrisy is to be savoured for another day, far down the road. This morning brings neither hesitation nor urgency, all syrupy light and his maple gaze, the languor of his limbs splayed around you to be treasured just as much as the gradual grind of his cock. There's a certain smugness in its slowness, as with the self-assuredness of his thumb circling a bare sliver of your skin.

A familiar motion that stirs a memory, fuchsia-tinted for the both of you. You remember your then boyfriend stammering and scarlet-tipped, matched to the rosy tips of his ears, excuses lost in the shuffle of sheets and stutter of hips.

"I-it's just-just the t-temp-ah-temperatuur," he'd slurred, the excuse as thin and transparent as the sticky film he laved across your throat, dangerously growing gossamer and feebler with every twitch and each strong buck against your body.

"Mmhmm," you'd hum, carnal ache turning you conciliatory. Such complacency. You had been the one to smirk back then, canines gleaming coy, as you offered ruin in the guise of reprieve.

"Want me to warm you up, darling?" Hands already reaching for him, mind already marveling before your fingers could be reacquainted with their hubris, his girth.

"P-please, anythin-nghing" he'd panted, all wide-eyed desperation to be devoured, sweet thing.

You'd been such a fool.

To not know not greed was a two-way street, this ravenous osmosis, this vicious ouroborous.

You think perhaps, in fact, you got the worse end of the deal, trembling against your spouse now, thighs clamped together.

"My dear," Nanami hums, a teasing timbre dripping honey as he sinks his fingers in, "always so ready for me."

You squirm, eyes screwed shut and fisting the sheets, trying to grasp the pale image of the boy who'd once writhed and blushed beneath you, a spectre all but vanquished. You miss him, sometimes.

You arch your back into Nanami, the way you know he's addicted to, just to hear him groan your name, ragged with the dregs of self-restraint or slumber, you're not sure which, but it's a close enough echo to send pleasure juddering through you, the recollection churning hot in your gut, of when he was wrapped around your finger, instead of your cunt around his.

"Sweetheart."

The tenderness of his tone pries your lids open. He doesn't have to ask, doesn't have to say anything but he does, because he knows you are too stubborn to ask for what you need to hear.

"My love."

He claims your gasp, in the crush and curl of his mouth, in the crook of his fingers.

"My girl."

Another smattering of kisses, chasing the flutters of your belly down, down, down to your creases weeping nectar. He licks a whine from you, pitching high into the air, his husky moan vibrating within you.

"My wife."

You feel the hot gust of Nanami's breath over your clit, as he pauses.

"My wife."

There's a reverence as he repeats himself, pathetic attempts to vanquish his disbelief, wonder glistening in his gold-flecked irises, staring at you in awe, searching for proof this isn't some frenzied fever dream of his.Of course, he finds it in your own unwavering eyes.

You've been such a fool.

There, in the locked gaze your shared history glimmers, that shy boy paralyzed by his worship of you, prostrate as the man before your parted legs now, offering his soul, his past, his future.

You reach for him, and he surges upwards. The collision is wave returning and rising from oceans, over and over, is starburst, is incandescence, is the fission of atoms never, ever meant to be split.

It burns away all notions of him as your acolyte or priest, any concept of deity and devotee.

"My life," he breathes into you, and you feel the throb in your ribs, the furnace of his lungs.

"My life," you repeat to your husband.

Adam. Prometheus. Kento.

This morning and many after, he lavishes you with irreverence, a ravishing of irrelevance; his goddess, his woman, his joy -all that matters is that you are his and he is yours; Together, you forge a paradise that exists for as long as the melding of your souls persist, boundless as horizons and sure as sunrises.

@houseofsolisoccasum

[demonvibez]

Hmmm another character I think would be fun to write for a soft fluffy shower scenario would be Beel, Mammon or Levi!!!

I imagine Beel's quite happy and delighted when he gets to pat you down with a towel and occasionally eat the toothpaste when it's time to get ready for bed, which is cute and soft!!! He's just a fluffy man!!! He wants to be drowned in that domestic love for sure!!! He likes ruffling your hair down with a towel and drying you off in his lap after a nice hot shower.

I can imagine he's too big and bulky to move efficiently out of the way of the showerhead so usually the water cascades all over him and barely on you. But don't worry!!! He'll just rub all the water on him back onto you when he's got you against the wall.

Mammon would be interesting because he's super bashful but he doesn't turn his nose up at the chance to bathe with MC, he's a lil nervous and doesn't exactly know where to glue his eyes or where to rub you down with bodywash because he keeps getting distracted by how pretty and sweet MC looks like this, but he's got the right spirit!

Eventually I imagine he gets quite comfortable rubbing MC down with soap while humming to himself, he seems so blissful he keeps lathering more soap onto you no matter how many times he's already done it. He just likes being able to touch you and be there with you, he likes when you let him take care of you and of course he loves it when you wash his hair out with him! I imagine he loves a mixture of baths and showers.

Levi's also quite sweet because I can imagine he's so shy! Poor guy doesn't know what to do in such a scenario!!! He wants to enjoy this intimate moment with MC in the bath so bad but he's so fidgety and blushy he can barely put his hands on you without overthinking it. He lets you wash his back even when he squirms around from the touch, the water swirls everywhere and eventually he's the one sitting between your legs so he can hide away that blush on his cheeks.

It stays that way regardless of how much time has passed, he's always thankful to have such an angel taking care of him in such a vulnerable state :,,,((( Eventually I'd say he becomes quite cozy staring at you! His eyes always linger in places they shouldn't and his cheeks erupt into fire when he figures out that MC does not at all mind when he lets his eyes and mind wander.

Wawawawa I like the boys :,|

An honourable mention I'd say would be interesting to write for is Solomon!

His pact marks are everywhere and he likes when MC scrubs down his marks in exchange for your's. When he smoothes his hands over the marks on your skin with soap he feels strangely calm, he likes how when it's just skin to skin, the both of you aren't so different afterall. Stripped down to the barest parts of you, MC is almost like him. Human! With the help of a few demons.

Oooo, all of these are definitely worthy contenders! I definitely wanna write the full versions w/ allllll of them, and have some pretty devious ideas about each. Your honorable mention of Solomon has inspired quite a few ideas that I'll have to keep in mind 😈

Until then, love what you wrote above, so I put my lil reply/spin below. ♡ I left out Solomon because he's just gonna have to join the party later!

Edit: am realizing I may not have put as much softness into parts of this but, oh well, enjoy!

warning: no real smut but it's quite suggestive (minors dni)

I definitely see Beelzebub being nervous at first, seeing as he is so damn polite when it comes to how you feel, whether it's about consent or the breakfast menu. He might fumble about the shower the first go round, which you both still enjoyed quite a bit, but the second time he is ready with a plan. He'll tell you to step into the shower first, the water cascading over you and onto him as he hands you the soap with that innocent smile of his. Time to rub down all of those muscles with your tiny little human hands. A blush creeps across his face as you look up at him with a devious smirk, gently pushing him down to the shower floor so that you can finally climb him and have your way with him . . .

Always the greedy demon, Mammon would never miss the chance to bathe with you. The greedy part of him just wants to take you, to feel every part of you while you share the shower together - to make you feel as good as you make him feel. Sometimes he has to remind himself that you're both here for a reason, 'gotta get clean n get ta breakfast before Lucifer kicks both our asses!' and you both fall into the routine of helping each other scrub. Sometimes, on a day where you both have nowhere to be, you find yourself in a bath together. Mammon suddenly pulls you into his lap, his grip on you firm and the golden glint of greed in his eyes. He has you all to himself today, and he will not be holding back . . .

Bathing with Leviathan is a double edged sword - when it comes to being in water, he is in his natural element. Demon form or not, he loves water and it's his safe space. On the other hand, Leviathan is not only very shy, but also self loathing. It isn't until you come along that everything starts to change. It takes some time for Levi to bathe with you - even the idea initially had him shut into his room for three days. But who else but you, his Henry, could help him break out of his shell?! And after a few attempts, here the two of you were. Eyes wide and cheeks painted with blush, Levi was lathering up your shoulders when he heard you giggle. He noticed that his tail had wrapped around your leg, and was snaking it's way upwards. Mortified, he began to stammer when you placed your hand on his tail and assured him that you like it. Emboldened with a small wind of confidence, he let his tail continue on, wondering what else it can do that you like . . .

[chaos-chloe]

Could we possibly get a girl dad grizzy x reader. Can definitely imagine him as a girl dad, dancing around a kitchen with a baby and his girlfriend singing ‘my girl’, doing all the late night baby chores just so reader doesn’t have to lift a finger. Some fluffy, domestic grizzy <3

Dometic Bliss - Grizzy x Reader

The sun was setting, casting a golden hue over the kitchen as you expertly chopped vegetables for dinner. But just then, a cheerful commotion broke the peaceful ambiance. Enter Grizzy, holding little Lily wrapped snugly in a soft pastel blanket, his enormous hands cradling her with the utmost care.

“Guess what?” he exclaimed, a radiant grin on his face. “It’s dancing time!”

Before you could respond, Grizzy cranked up the music, a sweet melody wafting through the air. The strains of “My Girl” filled the room, and he started twirling around with Lily, her giggles matching the rhythm of the song. Your heart swelled as you watched the gentle giant transform into a playful father, effortlessly swaying and spinning, somehow making the kitchen feel like a grand ballroom.

As you watched them dance, the love and bond between them were palpable. It was a sight you could watch endlessly—the jovial bear and his tiny princess finding joy in simple moments, like twirling under the soft glow of the kitchen lights.

Grizzy noticed you standing there, a smile on your lips as you leaned against the countertop. “Care to join us?” he called, playfully handing Lily off to you. You scooped her up, and the three of you danced together, laughter bouncing off the walls.

As the night wore on and the dinner preparations shifted to late-night baby chores, Grizzy took the lead. He gently placed Lily in her crib, singing her to sleep with the softest of lullabies. You watched him, amazed at how tender and patient he was, the reassuring notes of the melody echoing in the stillness of the night.

When it was time for a diaper change or a midnight feeding, Grizzy was always right there, trading off responsibilities without a second thought. He’d nudge you softly with his elbow, whispering, “I’ve got this,” or, “You deserve a break, babe.” His selflessness warmed your heart and made you fall deeper in love with him each day.

As the days turned into weeks, you realized how lucky you were. Grizzy made every mundane task feel special—a loving dance or a shared laugh over a teething toy. He filled your home with warmth and laughter, making even sleepless nights cozy, wrapped in the love you all shared.

One evening, after tucking Lily in for the night, you both found yourselves on the couch, basking in the peaceful ambiance of your home. The air was filled with the soft glow of a lamp and the sweet sound of quiet. You leaned against Grizzy, savoring the moment.

“I never knew I could be this happy,” you murmured, glancing up at him. His face beamed with pride and joy. "It's all thanks to you and our little bear."

Grizzy chuckled, brushing a stray hair from your face. “It’s amazing how a little girl can change everything,” he said, his voice soft but full of conviction. “Every day with you two is the best kind of adventure.”

In that moment, amidst the soft sounds of the night and the laughter that still echoed in your heart, you knew that no matter what life threw your way, you had found your happy place—a beautiful family built on love, laughter, and a few dance parties in the middle of the kitchen.

[oh-hell-help-me]

Day 28: Brood

Luigi was over the moon.

He’d never really thought he’d find love so easily (or at all, considering his luck), but the bliss of having a lover and a baby haven’t faded in the days that followed.

Yes, Luigi is still unfortunately clumsy with figuring out what his baby needed, but the help and experience of an everyday routine had made it easier.

He’s… not sure what to name her. He hasn’t even known she was a girl until they had Kamek check her over. Not to mention… his other problem.

He sorta doesn’t want to name her alone. He figured, well, since the baby was also Bowser’s- even though they weren’t even married…

And thus the crux of the problem.

He KNOWS Bowser loves him, and he’s unquestionably sure that he loves Bowser. They have even went on date nights before the baby hatched, and had been riding on a surreal period of domestic living.

But neither of them ‘popped the question’ yet.

He would have been nervous at the possible implications if it wasn’t for the way they both seemed to tiptoe around the subject.

Luigi knew how it felt to be afraid- he especially knew the fear of rejection. Seeing Bowser, his big bold Koopa, experience that same fear? Well, it was reassuring but also frustrating.

More than anything, Luigi wants to do more than just ‘stay’- he wants to spend his days at Bowser’s side as they watch the kids grow.

He wants to grow old with him, to share every moment that could be spared and reminisce about the ones they couldn’t.

He wants to call Bowser his husband, to call the Koopalings his kids, and be able to say that they are all his familia in every way.

But at this rate? The Koopalings will be all grown up before they even have a wedding day.

So, he figured that he would need to take the first step.

He’d just need to do a bit of preparation.

Bowser was restless.

For whatever reason, Luigi has left the castle for errands- with the baby.

He’s already paranoid about letting the human wander outside- never mind the tiny little girl that he adores and instinctively recognizes as his.

It’s a feeling that prickles under his skin- it buzzes and gnaws at his consciousness like a dog with a bone, and it’s hell on his patience as he gets through another round of paperwork.

By the time he’s done with the last pamphlet, he’s vibrating in his seat, the claws of his free hand embedded into the wood of his desk.

He looked at the clock, and saw only three hours had past-

Nope. That’s it. Nest.

(He’s nearly unaware of how fast he arrives at the nursery, or where exactly he found enough blankets and pillows to make a large nest that encompasses half the room's floor.)

Nest.

(He’s also fuzzy on the details of where he found each Koopaling, but the important part was that they were now in the nest and safe.)

Nest.

(He searches every inch of the castle for intruders- there aren't- marks the doorway of the nursery- which leaves gouges that mean another budget cut for repairs- and heads down the hallways towards the main doors.)

Nest.

(Before he even steps into the foyer, the doors are slowly pried open to admit a familiar 'shadow' and a Koopa baby-)

MatemaTEMATEHATCHLINGMATEHATCHLING-

(“Bowser, whaAAAA-?!” He’s picked them up by Luigi’s shirt, uncaring of the damage his teeth made as he carried him straight towards the nursery.)

NESTMATEHATCHLINGNESTSAFE-

(Luigi sighs the moment he is settled into the nest, unlatching the baby from its carrier before making himself comfortable between Roy and Junior. The latter is already booping the baby’s nose by the time Bowser secures the perimeter one last time before settling down and around their brood.)

…

By the time he woke up from unintended slumber, Bowser needed a few minutes to orient himself- and realize that he’s being stared at.

He turns and meets those same soft eyes he fell in love with- simply holding his gaze in half-lidded contentment.

"Are you awake?"

Bowser would have snorted an 'obviously' if he didn't know what Luigi actually meant. "Yeah, I'm here."

"Good." A sleepy sigh from the baby draws their attention to her, watching as her little chest puffs in and out with each breath.

"...Bowser?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you help me name her?"

He looks at Luigi and- while he doesn't catch his eye- the worried furrow of his brow betrayed his anxiousness.

"Alright." And, because he's just as clueless- "What about 'Nanne'?"

"She doesn't quite look like a 'Nanne'..."

...Looking at the baby, he couldn't help but agree.

"Then maybe... 'Kare-'"

"NO. Just... no."

...Okay? He'll choose to ignore that outburst... "What are your suggestions?"

"Ah, um!" Luigi flushes and how endearing is it for him to still blush a pretty pink- "I woulda given her a name like Annalisa, like my nonna -my grandma-, or Mia, like my mother. But... those don't fit her either."

Bowser admits that those names are pretty and sentimental, something that he can expect from Luigi. But that last one... It almost sounds right.

“What about… ‘Mina’?”

"'Mina'." He sees Luigi try out the word, reaching out to poke at the baby's palm- instantly getting that finger grabbed by the sleeping Koopa. "This is 'Mina'." His voice cracks and he is visibly shook as he uses a thumb to stroke the tiny clenching fist. "Mia Mina... It sounds perfect."

Looking at the scene before him, Bowser couldn't help but think that this is perfect.

It almost feels like he couldn't be happier.

[sirenmoth]

Little Moments

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x GN!Reader

Synopsis: You have Gaz have a horribly thrown together date at a safe house

CW: Fluff, domestic fluff, military talk, war mention, hurt/comfort, kinda

19:00

Late evening light filled the sky in rays, casting hues of bright oranges, pinks and reds, all blending together as the sun started to set over the horizon. You would've stopped to admire the scenery and the beauty, stopped to take in the last of burning star's warmth and drink in the peace and tranquillity as it set below the treeline. But it wasn't time for that, walking in the middle of nowhere, you were given instructions to hold down a safe house while the other three dealt with other things elsewhere. Told to wait until the team reunited to set up the base of operation.

You have no idea how long you've been walking, the trees all look the same, your legs hurt from the excessive walking on the unstable terrain, nerves on fire from all the exercise, "God, it feels like I'm doing rucks again." You mutter, breaking the silence between the two of you, disturbing the late evening birds singing their final tunes before sleep, Gaz gives a brief chuckle at your attempt at humour and small talk, slowing his pace down for you to catch up, once you reach his side he picks up his pace again.

"It does, doesn't it? Would rather do a ruck march again than this." He adds once you met his pace, continuing the hike with you beside him. "You think Cap sent us alone for a reason? I know we're good at our job, he makes that clear, but I feel like he knows something."

The suspicaion that Price knew something was always present in the back of your mind, that he knew about you two and the relationship you both carefully nuilt and nurtured, was worrying. Having a relationship with a co-worker was one thing, but having a relationship were both are in the military, let alone one of the most elite task forces in the world, was a whole other thing neither you nor Gaz are ready to face.

"I don't know, he probaly would've said something by now is he did." You reply, looking at him in your periphel vision, reaching across to his hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

The rest of the walk was completed in a deafening silence, as you enjoyed each other's company, with the previous conversation still fresh on your mind with worry. Listening to the songbird tweets fade into the croaks and chitters of the forest nightlife. Finally arriving at the location, a small cabin hidden between a few trees, you both decide to split up, with you securing the outside perimeter and Gaz securing the inside, mentally scanning and logging any advantage and disadvantage spots.

The inside of the cabin was nothing special, most safe houses weren't, with its sole purpose to keep its occupants safe and away from danger and supply them with the bare basics a human being would need to survive. Gaz places his weapon on safety mode, and leans it against a wall then removes his kevlar vest, making himself at home on the old ratty sofa in the living room, sighing heavily once his legs get to rest and the pressure is taken off them from walking so much, all too eager to relax after that hike. You follow suit and copy his actions, weapon on safety against the wall, kevlar vest off, sitting down on the sofa, side by side.

Silence once against filled the air, this time comforting, as you lay your head on Kyle's shoulder, his head leaning against yours, taking his hand against and lacing your fingers together once more, enjoying his warmth and company.

You two lived and cherished these moments, relished in the tiny pieces of domestic bliss, not knowing when it will end or be ripped from you. Romance on the Task Force was rare to come by outside the small hookups and meaningless flings, and even more rare for a chance for it to fully bloom and properly look after, being away for months on end and being busy all the time, with little room to attend dates and anniversaries, family and relationship alike, all members are estranged from their normal life in some way due to this, which is why anyone involved with the Task Force, both directly or indirectly, avoided it all together, expect Laswell. Everyone likes hearing Laswell mention the dates her and her wife go on, a small sense of normalcy they will never get.

"What's the status report?" You ask, toying and fiddling with his fingers, closing your eyes to drink in the calm.

"Standard MRE's, supplies, beddings. Y'know, the usual that's stashed in a place like this brings and offers." Kyle replied, moving closer towards you, his knee brushing against yours, "We do have ravioli MRE's though, beef, so I see that as a win."

His last remark earns a small laugh from you, causing the man to smile, beef ravioli was seen as the better choices of food out on the field, people sometimes traded things to a packet, and it was commonplace for tiny fights to happen over it. "Do I have to fight you for it?" You jest, lovingly squeezing his hand. These moments alone are something you both enjoy, just the two of you, alone and undisturbed, Kyle once mentioned he felt like he could live off these moments alone.

"If there's enough, we could have a date, a terrible makeshift romantic dinner." You laugh, the idea was outlandish right now, but not an overly bad idea. There's a time and a place and right isn't the time nor the place for such a thing, but that wasn't going to stop you from pressing forward with the idea," We can hide them from the rest of them, keep all the good food to ourselves. They won't know."

Kyle lets out a genuine, hearty laugh at your proposal, "If you want to deal with a grumpy Scotsman who won't shut up and an overly pissed off Captain, be my guest, I won't stop you."

You sign at his words, knowing he's right. Ghost is fine eating just about anything on the field, as long as it's edible, he doesn't care. Soap and Price on the other hand like having decent, or as decent as packet ration food can get, out on the field, Price says it's a 'rewards for dealing you lot of a bunch of muppets' and Soap jokes that he's 'a growing boy, I need a balanced diet' while flexing, only to get hit in the back of the head by Ghost, who tells him to shut up.

Getting up and stretching, you smile down at Kyle, "Well, you rest up pretty boy, I'm going to see if the radio works. Can't have a broken lien of communication now." Kissing him on his forehead you leave into one of the adjacent rooms, watching the sun finally set outside the window, slivers of light dance around the room as you change and check each radio frequency until you get in touch with either Price or Laswell. Once you do and state your positions and everything is accounted for and checked, you leave the radio on in case of an emergency and turn the volume up so you can hear it from the other room, and head back into the living room.

Entering the living room once against, you notice Kyle is no longer there, thinking he probably went upstairs to claim a room before the others show up, you head towards the stairs to do the same, the last thing you want is to share with anyone, unless it's Kyle. Walking by the open kitchen door, you fail to take note of what the British man has been doing in your absence.

Kyle clears his throat as you walk past, causing you to stop in your tracks and turn to him, now he has your full attention he smiles, takes your hand and states, "I have something to show you," before leading you into the rundown, and frankly probably safety hazard kitchen. There sat on the old, worn out wooden dinning table, were two neatly placed beef ravioli MRE's and the standard issue drink that came with them, laid out as best as possible, opposite each other, the scene mimicked one you would find at any fine-dinning restaurant.

Kyle stands behind you, still holding your hand, anxious but pleased with himself. "Do you like it?" He asks, looking at you with pleading eyes, trying to gauge your reaction, "We haven't had a proper date in a while your idea gave me some inspiration and I thought 'Why not'. We don't have to tell them we took them," he adds on, "I know it's not perfect."

Turning around to look at him, you place a gentle, loving hand on his check, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, "It's prefect. More than prefect, thank you." You reply, smiling as he practically melts in your hands when your words reach his ears. Kyle takes your hand and walk you over to the table, pulling out the chair facing the door out, like the 'true gentleman he is' as he says, before sitting in the chair opposite you, his facing lit up with a bright smile.

The both you talk and laugh as you eat your meal, treating this like any normal date you would have, already forgetting where you are and that you are currently on the job. Even after the food is gone as well as the drinks, you still talk, sitting at the table engrossed in your own world as you discuss recent events, work drama and where and when you should go on your next proper date once this mission is over, maybe a small corner café or a stay at home take out night. The radio screeching startles you both, Price's voice crackles from the other end of it, announcing they'll be arriving in around thirty minutes.

You get up from your seat, taking the empty food packets and bottles from the table to throw away. Gaz resorts the table to what it was and so there's no obvious signs of your little date, you share a look at the fact you both forgot you were in the middle of a mission, nonetheless you have a job to do. Gaz wraps his arms around your waist, you wrap yours around his neck, embracing in the final moments of solace and bliss before heading back into the fray.

[genevievemd]

A Christmas Elf

Book: Open Heart (Beyond) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Genevieve McClure), feat. Elizabeth “Lizzie” Ramsey Word Count: 1295 Rating: G Category: fluff, domestic bliss (family dynamics)  Trope(s): and they were in the office

Summary: Gen surprises Ethan at the hospital with lunch... and their 4 month old daughter dressed as an elf!

Warnings: none

A/N: who’s ready for some holiday fluff, baby?! Featuring everyone’s favorite tiny human, Lizzie. Hopefully this is the first of a few holiday fics but we’ll see how the inspiration goes. 

Submission for @choicesficwriterscreations​ holiday event

She checks the diaper bag one last time, mentally cataloging every item inside. It’s the first time Genevieve has taken her and Ethan’s now four month old daughter out by herself. Which seems crazy, but with Ethan having been on paternity leave until last week, every time they took Elizabeth out it was together. 

Now she herself had one month left on her maternity leave and it was time to get used to taking their sweet Lizzie out without the assistance of her husband. And since he had left them the car that morning, it seemed like the perfect opportunity. 

“Okay, munchkin, you ready?” Genevieve turns to look at Lizzie, sitting happily and quietly in her car seat. “We’re gonna go surprise Daddy, because he sounded very sad on the phone.” 

They say that nothing compares to watching the love of your life, your husband, become a father – that it makes you fall even more in love – and Gen has come to find that statement true. Ethan had been so scared at first, nervous that he’d screw it up, but since the moment they found out Gen was pregnant he’d been nothing but a doting father. He loved every second of this life he once believed wasn’t in the cards for him. He changed diapers, helped with the midnight feedings, laid on the floor with Lizzie during tummy time, read her books and sang her songs, all with a smile on his face.

Ethan had become a whole new person since Lizzie came into their lives and it had Gen falling more in love everyday. 

Even seeing how sad he was to go back to work – the job he so adored – melted her heart. He was afraid to miss even a second of Lizzie’s life, wanted updates and photos throughout the day. 

Just an hour ago he’d facetimed them between mountains of paperwork, eager to catch a glimpse at his two favorite blondes, and sounding so despondent to not be home with them. Which lead Genevieve to make the decision to take Lizzie out and see her dad. 

She slings the bag over her shoulder, then picks up the car seat, smiling at how cute their daughter looks in her Christmas themed outfit. 

It was a gift from Ethan’s assistant, Barbara, and the perfect thing to lift his spirits. 

Along with the lunch she’d prepared for them. 

“Alright, lets go see Daddy.” 

In no time at all, the two blonde Ramsey’s make it to the hospital. Genevieve parks the car in Ethan’s designated Chief of Medicine spot right out front, and quickly gets herself and Lizzie into the building. They’re bombarded almost immediately by her colleagues, all eager to catch the newest edition to the Edenbrook family. 

“Oh, look at her!” Harper rushes over to the stroller, titling her head to look down at the baby. “She’s gotten so big.” 

“I know. It’s crazy.” 

“So cute in her little Christmas outfit, all ready to see Santa.” 

“More like, ready to go have lunch with Dad.” 

Harper looks up at her then, a smile on her face. “Good, he’s been sulking around here all day. It’s actually quite adorable.” 

“He’s afraid he’s going to miss something exciting,” Genevieve shifts her gaze down to her daughter, voice changing its tune to something overly sweet and cheerful. “But all our little lizard does is cry and sleep and eat and make mommy change her diaper a thousand times a day.” 

“And smile.” Harper beams down at Lizzie, cooing at her. Her fingers tickling Lizzie’s tummy. “She’s got her mama’s smile.” 

“That’s what my husband says.” 

“Well, I’ll let you go. It was great to see you.” 

“You, too.” Gen gives Harper a hug, then quickly makes her way to the elevator. Avoiding as many people as possible. 

They get inside the lift with only one more interruption from a nurse and she presses the bottom for the top floor. A sigh of relief escaping when the elevator dings and they’ve evaded the hoard of nurses and doctors. 

The only people on this floor were administration, Ethan included. 

Gen and Lizzie make it down the hall, and to Chief’s office. Smiling brightly at his assistant, sitting at her own desk just outside the doors.

“Hi, Barbara.” 

“Oh, hello!” The older woman rises from her chair, quickly coming round to look in the stroller. “She’s in her little elf outfit!” 

“Yeah, I thought we’d cheer our Chief up with a little Christmas elf time.” 

“Those bright blue eyes and round cheeks would cheer anyone up.” 

“Is he in?” 

“Yes. Just came back from speaking with Mr. Bloom.” 

“Oh, no.” Gen laughs, knowing just how grumpy Ethan gets after speaking with Leland. “Well, here’s hoping we put him in a better mood.” 

“I’ll hold all his calls until you two leave.” 

“Thank you.” With that, Gen pushes the stroller to the door to Ethan’s office, opening it without bothering to knock. 

She’s always had an open invitation, anyway. 

“Not now. I don’t have time.” Ethan barks, glasses perched low on nose and his eyes focused on the files scattered around the mahogany desk. 

“Not even for us?” Gen closes the door, smiling at how fast his head whips up. Eyes wide in shock. Though he smiles, happy to see his wife and child. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“We came to surprise you with lunch.” She drops the diaper bag onto the coffee table in his office, “I made sandwiches for us and a bottle for Lizzie. You sounded sad on the phone, and I thought we could cheer you up a bit.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” Ethan rises from his desk, tossing his glasses down and walking to the stroller. 

Without hesitation, he takes their daughter out, his smile growing as he settles her in his arms. 

Nothing will ever beat the sight of seeing Ethan holding their daughter. They way he instantly relaxes and his hard exterior softens. 

“Hi, sweetpea.” He utters softly, rocking their daughter slightly.

The rest of the world always seems to fall away for him when Lizzie is in his arms. The stress and anxiety of being Chief of Medicine, the everyday pressures of adult life – none of it fazes him when he’s holding their little girl. 

Just like when it was just the two of them, and they’d hide away from the world in their apartment, snuggled together under mountains of blankets. 

The family they created together was his sanctuary. 

Hers, too. 

“Does your wife get a hello, too.” Gen giggles, stepping closer to her husband. One hand resting on Lizzie’s head and one on Ethan’s bicep. 

“Always.” Ethan leans down, kissing Genevieve sweetly. “Hi, sweetheart.” 

“Hi.” Unable to resist, she kisses him one more time, lingering for just a moment. “Did you see her outfit?” 

“She’s a Christmas elf?” He takes in Lizzie’s aforementioned outfit. The little stripped onesie and tulle skirt, with a matching stripped hat with elf ears and a pompom on top. 

“Yes. Come to give her daddy some holiday joy.”

“Hm,” He looks at Gen then back down at Lizzie, soft smile still on his face. “I don’t know about holiday joy, but this little surprise lunch definitely raised my spirits, Rookie.” 

“Good. God, she’s so cute, it’s ridiculous.” 

“Like her mom.” 

“Smooth, Ramsey.” She kisses his cheek, then guides them to the sofa. 

They sit beside each other, all eyes focused on the little bundle of green and red still nestled happily in her dad’s arms. 

After the months of trying and feeling discouraged,  to the months of waiting for their little girl to arrive, it was moments like this that Genevieve wanted to remember most. The picture perfect instances of them as the family she had always envisioned.

A/N: Happy Holidays, fam jam.

 Hopefully we can write some more things. Like the mini series and maybe other holiday fics. I’ve just been having major writers block. Like I don’t even really love this what it is what it is. I mean I like it but I feel like it’s not my best. 

Whatevs. We gonna keep going, write the things 

@choicesficwriterscreations​ @openheartfanfics​

[jiminrings]

lunchbox koo first time ughhh it’ll be so cute >< jungkook is shy but after the first time he gets freaky and gets more confident regarding that

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D

it’s stem koo’s first time, and he could cry in bliss just knowing that it’s with you — it would always be you.

Jungkook thinks he shouldn't complain.

He thinks he shouldn't complain not because there isn't any room for it (plenty for it actually), but because he thinks there's nothing about it at all that's complaint-worthy and is demanding of any revision.

You're used to him complaining at this point and atleast he has the nerve to feel quite sorry, but it's just something that eats at his nerves when he wants to raise his grievance with you.

In fact, Jungkook thinks he should be grateful because after all, his so-called "problem" is something that some people would fight tooth and nail for to have.

His ears perk when you instruct him to move the full-length mirror to his right, cheeks puffing out mid-thought at the word that it stops him completely from adjusting the placement of the mirror to your liking.

“Don’t," he softly mumbles, brows knitting in the barrage of emotions he doesn't know how to dissect, “don’t call me that.”

He sees the confusion register in your face, staring down on him while you’re stood on your bed and he suddenly feels the need to back-track his words.

“Call you what?” your eyebrows furrow in recollection of everything you’ve ever said and called him for the past hour, seeing your boyfriend shy away from your glance with a childish look on his face that it sinks in eventually. “Baby?”

Jungkook cusses under his breath on how you managed to catch on so quick, putting his hand on his nape as if you were gonna eat him alive on what he’s gonna say next.

He sometimes hates himself for being so honest when it comes to you, and sometimes he hates how understanding you could be because he couldn’t predict what you’d react to him now.

“Yoongi teased me awhile ago.”

It’s a pathetically small mumble and Jungkook isn’t even sure if the words ever crossed past his lips, but he’s sure that they left him somehow because you’re laughing.

You’re full-on cackling either at him or with him and as much as it makes his lips curve at the sound of your laughter, it makes him defensive.

Defensive enough that he doesn’t realize he’s pouting because it’s his second nature, scrunching his face in the process.

“You’re not supposed to laugh. Even Jin elbowed me when you called me that.”

He's dancing around the term of endearment and he chalks it up to how he distinctly remembers Yoongi repeating it with his eyes squinted and his eyebrows wiggling, added with Seokjin's sharp elbows that made him consciously feel his ribs.

“Shouldn’t you be happy?” you tilt your head with genuine curiosity, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Don’t get me wrong, but didn’t you tell me that you wanted to be closer with them? That you want them to loosen up to you? They’re just teasing you, Jungkook.”

“Y-yeah, I did say that, you’re right,” he sheepishly admits, already aware that he was contradicting himself from the start. “I swear it could count as bullying though.”

Jungkook feels appalled for a split second before he realizes that the laugh he's given you is worthwhile, a tiny bit satisfied that his complaints atleast gave you sincere amusement.

It's in ridiculous moments like these that you realize your boyfriend tends to be a little more sensitive than the rest of the people you're accustomed to. A little more fragile, a little more eroded around the edges but it doesn't mean that he isn't any less compact at the core.

“Take it up to student affairs then.”

“Seokjin is student affairs. You’re not funny.”

The frown on his face gives you all the more reason to observe him this way — sensitive, warm, lovable.

Jungkook can't be Jin because your boyfriend would whimper at the slightest onset of an inconvenience but he'd whimper even more if he can't manage to resolve it. Meanwhile, your friend installs Ikea furniture without a manual and sleeps on it for weeks until he finds the resolve to continue trying.

Jungkook can't be Yoongi either because the former would bend over backwards and drink a mistaken order given to him, even if it means he paid extra for something he didn't want. On the other hand, the latter isn't afraid of coming straight to the counter holding your burger when you clearly said that you don't want pickles in it.

He can't be the other two people you treasure in your life and it's more than okay for you, the special distinction of how he stands within your heart already being enough.

“Alright, alright,” you wave him off, going straight to the mirror to adjust it because he's clearly too perplexed on how you just agreed with him. “I won’t ever call you baby again.”

Jungkook has no qualms with you but he certainly has one now, mouth parted at how that was too easy. How his request that he didn't even wholeheartedly mean became approved that quick.

A squeak leaves him before he knows it, looking between you and the reflection of himself.

“Well now you’re just guilt-tripping me.”

“I’m respecting your wishes,” you whisper playfully, making him gasp as he loops his arm around yours to effectively pull you closer out of panic.

“Don’t say ever,” he emphasizes and then could you see how his eyes widen at the particular word, cheeks puffed while he tries to get you to meet his eyes. “You’re never gonna call me baby? Ever?”

“Nope,” you breathlessly chuckle as you attempt to unloop your arm from his, earning yourself an even more eager pull to his direction. “Why would I? I’m just granting your wishes.”

Jungkook looks stupefied at your retort and you have an inkling in your mind that he looks like he'd actually plead with you, being unmistaken when you see his bottom lip actually quiver.

“Can I take it back?”

He hugs you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder and effectively nuzzling his nose to the crook of your neck. It's a habit of his to burrow into you whenever he gets his hands on you, something you've noticed him doing to comfort himself.

You obviously don't mind it but it's something you've come to know that Jungkook doesn't even realize the effect of, not that it matters, but it's in softly domestic moments like these that it packs an extra effect.

“Call me baby again.”

He mumbles against your neck and with the way you look at his reflection, you're sure it's not out of that eager will. He's hung-up on the pet name and you're clearly hung-up on much different things.

"No."

You disagree so certainly and you're clueless that you've already uttered it out loud. It's a clear no to the things that materialized in your head out of thin air, all because of the way Jungkook nuzzles into your neck and your first thought is to give him more access.

He's oblivious to the internal conflict in your mind — oblivious to the way how there's a lump on your throat from realizing that at your point of view in front of the mirror, Jungkook engulfs you as a whole unit.

It's a weekend and the only plans you had were to buy a mirror and get takeout for lunch; simple as that. But then Yoongi caught wind of your plans, and decided that he'd come with because he reasons that he wants to see if the mirror you're buying is worthy enough because of course, it's only natural that whatever you buy is his too — or atleast because he argues that it's the law.

Then came Jin, who woke up because of Yoongi's insistent voice that if you don't let him come with you to the store, it could only mean that you don't love him anymore. Naturally, he shoots straight up from bed because he can't pass up on egging either of you. Coincidentally, it also happens that he bought a new keyring and he wants to drive to see if it would obnoxiously jangle around. Even more coincidentally, he has an extra hundred dollars in the event that the needs to add in to your budget because he wants your mirror to atleast be three feet taller than him.

You should've expected that when you replied to Jungkook's good morning message at an earlier time than you usually did, which he knows could only mean that you're running an errand, he automatically asks if he could come with and walks to your dorm even before you say yess.

It's far too hot for his usual hoodie and sweats combo that he came straight into your space without much thought of what he should wear for an errand he just only had a vague idea of — a fitted thin black shirt and black basketball shorts that cut off above his knees.

Jungkook's too oblivious with the way he has his arms around your middle, snaked snugly right below your boobs, with his face nuzzling your neck and the costly effects it has on you and your sanity.

“Why not? That’s my wish. You just told me that you’re granting mine.”

He's still fixed on gaining back his name but you're way past it, instead fixating your gaze downwards to empty your thoughts.

It's okay. It's completely and utterly okay. It's just hot, your boyfriend's wearing a different outfit, and it just happens that he's naturally clingy. He's clueless and you're not pointing it out to him that you're bothered in a way that you're certain he's not quite ready to help with.

“Pick another, Jungkook. I’ll rethink it in two business days because apparently, someone’s embarrassed of me.”

You recover fairly quickly and you don't have to shrug him off you because he detaches himself to look at you in shock, his only points of warmth on you being his hands on your shoulders while he looks at your reflection.

“W-what? I’m not! I’m just-“ he trips over his words when you look at him with a mocking raise to your brow, making him mumble in defeat. “Shy. You know I’m shy.”

“I know, bab-“ you intentionally slip up and only then could you see him scowling at your teasing, bumping your elbow to the back to lightly jab at him.

You still have your mind to purge your thoughts from and mirrors to clean, laying your point as best as you could when you suddenly push him off you with your hips, getting an offended gasp afterwards.

“I know, Jungkook. But you know that Yoongi and Jin are my friends and they’re just teasing you. You can’t whine at everything, y’know?”

“I am not whiney!”

Jungkook's eyes widen considerably, talking in a pout while he desperately defends himself from what he thinks is your most ruthless dig at him.

His eyes are still wide at you even if he waits for you to say something, anything, that would give him the peace of mind that you agree with him not being whiny at all. He's blinking every second in the fear that you'd mouth the words anytime now, but it never comes. The agreement to be in his side never comes band all he gets is your nose scrunching up at him.

“Sure you aren’t.”

You didn't know what to expect now that you've egged him further but it's definitely not him tugging your shirt towards him, making the fabric cling onto your front more than snugly as he cages you in to his chest innocently.

“Take that back."

“Jungkook,” you warn him with no real bite just yet, sending him daggers through the mirror but he doesn't relent and in fact returns your glare that's twice more stubborn.

He frowns petulantly, brows knitted together in his attempt at correction. “It’s baby.”

A breath you didn't even know you were holding leaves you in a breeze, unaware that your boyfriend's stubbornness all along is something that would knock you out of breath.

You try to ignore how Jungkook easily pulled you into him without much thought, only to possessively embrace you into his hold — all of that done out of pure innocence, just because you agreed to not call him baby.

“Do you know what you did just now?”

His wide curious eyes later turned into realization, hand scrambling to cover your mouth for what you're gonna point out next but you get it out even before he could.

“You just whined.”

Jungkook audibly groans to your ear and you have to close your eyes just to stop thinking full-time, not wanting your mind to wander to the other scenarios that would pull out such a guttural sound out of him once or rather several more.

He frowns and you're unfazed because you're used to him doing so when he doesn't get what he wants, edging you to the thought that he's really quite the stubborn one out of the two of you. The clingier, stubborn, and more eager one in the relationship.

Jungkook stands up fully and just when you think that he's letting go off you, his arms bend at the elbows and proceed to level them underneath your armpits — poised in a position as if he's holding you back and keeping you still while he looks at you in the mirror but of course; he's clueless.

You try to keep your thoughts at bay but it's beyond hard knowing that he keeps feeding into them without knowing, not being able to resist either when you break out of his hold to get out of such an enticing position you've once seen in your dreams, making him tumble back a little with a pout.

"Move away a little."

He doesn't take your dismissal to heart because he sees you pulling up a chair in front of the mirror, standing on top of it to hang the crochet heart Jin made for you.

Did you plan to put up the powder blue crochet heart on top of your mirror? Yes. Did you really need to do it now? Not at all, but you felt it was necessary to buffer your impure thoughts into focusing on a wholesome and handmade craft your friend gave you.

You think it's helping because it's immediately removing your attention on how delectable your boyfriend looks and instead refocus it onto sticking it up as even and as proportional as you could. What doesn't help, is that Jungkook's first instinct upon seeing you stand up on a chair is to put his hands on your waist tightly.

His hands are large and pretty and warm and it makes you cuss underneath your breath of how this is the second time the vision of him holding you up appears, the plan of clearing your thoughts immediately backfiring.

“I can make another wish, right?”

“If it makes you whine less, sure.”

You reply almost immediately, relieved that he's talking and deviating the conversation into somewhere else. His whines always seep into the back of your head and as much as you'd want to hear them, the timing of it all doesn't match up.

You're just about to pry his hands off from your waist but it doesn't happen because Jungkook holds you even more tightly than before, a heavy breath leaving him that it has you glancing at his reflection in the mirror.

“Take my virginity.”

Jungkook doesn't hesitate thinking twice that he's caught you off-guard because you make no move in hiding your surprise, the crochet heart you were in the verge of sticking onto the wall with mounting tape already falling unceremoniously.

His eyes widen when there's an impalpable silence that consumes the both of you but he doesn't find himself wanting to take the words back, completely confused when you step down to the ground with no hesitation.

“Give me my first time.”

He makes it clear by saying it again, strengthening what he's just said seconds ago but it feels like it's been hours since your face is indifferent, nonchalant even as you sit on the edge of your bed to open your phone.

“Don’t just say that.”

He hears you grit through your teeth and Jungkook fears that he's offended you for a second, although he doesn't find any hint of it on your face that remains the same. You look unbothered just as usual and not as if he just asked you to fuck him — he thought he'd get a bigger and perhaps more loving reaction than what you're giving him now.

“But I mean it — I do want it,” he explains sincerely, plucking your phone from your fingers and tossing it behind you, earning a squawk in return. “But not unless you don’t want to.”

Jungkook's voice becomes small and becomes regretful that he just snatched your phone away from you because initially, he just did it to get you to look at him and not avoid eye contact! But here he is, the little stunt he pulled already biting him in the ass.

You look up at him and it's unlike of him to be the one to shy away from all the gazing he does at you, already knowing that he feels touchy at the moment. He's pretty just like you've realized before; defined and soft at the same time, his faded blonde hair longer as they reach past his ears and are tucked behind them, his eyes more visible since he's taken off his glasses and perched them on your vanity just minutes ago.

“Of course I want to,” your voice is as gentle and as soothing it could be, instantly garnering the attention of your boyfriend who's standing in front of you. “It’s just that I don’t want you to feel obligated because you’re with me.”

It's true and you mean it wholeheartedly, comprising the majority of the reasons why you always try to tone down the mature thoughts you have regarding your boyfriend because it feels intrusive almost, even if he's boldly told you about the thoughts he had of you before.

It's internalized pressure you always try to contain because you can't exactly tell Jin nor Yoongi how much you want your boyfriend to fuck and do the likes with you, knowing that it would invite even more pressure into your mind.

Jungkook's heart expands twofold at the consideration you always have for him, eyes bulging as he desperately shuts down the concern you have for him.

“I’m completely sure, I promise.”

He bobs his head up and down in lightning speed and his hands automatically reach out for you to take, wanting you to pull him down on the bed, but you apparently don't do it quick enough which is why he immediately sits down beside you and places you on his lap instead. "Never been more sure ever than right now, I'm telling you."

Your laugh gets cut short because he puts his hand behind your head and pulls you close fervently, kissing you like he means it that you're pleasantly surprised when he immediately manages to take control, drawing out a moan from him when you happily cooperate.

You've always known that Jungkook's an attentive lover; always keen and eager and trying to please. He's giddy and vocal and it crosses your mind that you're all he's ever known when it comes to this, the realization of the fact giving more warmth to you than you initially thought it would.

Jungkook makes you tilt your head so he could kiss you deeper and it doesn't make him glaze over the fact that he doesn't want you to strain your neck, his hand affectionately cupping your nape while your hands get busy trying to get his shirt over and off him, feeling the warmth of his hand on your exposed skin.

"How do I-" he whispers, grunting particularly when you grind on his clothed cock that's straining through his basketball shorts, "how do we do this?"

He feels an unmeasurable heat within and he knows he can't chalk it up to the weather this time, but rather, he'd point it out to you who's grinding on him as your hips rut forward, the warmth of your center slowly bleeding into his own because your shorts are thin and he could make himself silly just trying to imagine you bare.

“It’s your first time, Koo,” you scratch lightly in circles on his back, turning him over the edge more than it does to soothe him. “I’ll take care of you.”

Jungkook's eyes prick at your promise and he finds his mouth falling open because not soon after your assurance, you undress right in front of him without hesitation, instantly finding religion in the silent worship he gives you with his eyes.

“I think I’m gonna cum already.”

The words tumble out of him without filter and it makes you snort mid-way in making him shimmy out of his shorts, cock springing up to his tummy that he feels almost embarrassed under your watchful gaze.

“Save it,” you stifle giggles at his candidness but it became his turn to stop breathing when you sit on his thighs, eyes wide in realization that the two of you are so close and the fact alone makes him want to explode.

Jungkook's vow of speechlessness becomes void the moment your hand pumps his desperately pink and throbbing member, mewling into your kiss that makes his eyes squint in pleasure.

His hands dig into your hips and you relish with the way he kneads it like he's learned how to when he massages your neck when you're buried in schoolwork and it's the only thing he could do to help you out because you're in your senior year and he has no clue when he squints at your textbooks. There's eager intention with how he kneads the flesh, his neatly-trimmed nails leaving marks when you squeeze his cock a little too tight.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, am I? I read somewhere that it can hurt sometimes.”

Jungkook speaks the moment he feels you slowing down with your ministrations, figuring out that this is the part when it actually happens and it makes you smile unexpectedly.

He's humble and there's no cockiness behind it (even if next time you want him to own up just rightfully), just full of worry in theory and soon in practice because after all, you are his first.

“You’re big, Jungkook,” you mumble to his lips and he doesn't know how to take what you've just said, the worry leaving his face when you press your lips to him to calm his worries. “But it’s okay. It’s just gonna be a bit of a stretch for me, while it’s gonna be tight for you.”

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna hurt you,” he's looking up at you with innocent eyes and the intimacy in it almost knocks you out of breath, a chuckle leaving your lips.

“You’re not,” you assure him sincerely, the thought of having it otherwise next time making your tongue poke your cheek in thought, shaking the thought away in the meantime as you runs your hands down his arms. “If it makes you feel better, you can stretch me out first.”

“Yes please.”

Jungkook nods and eagerly heeds your suggestion to satisfy his qualms, licking his lips when he looks down at you because you're practically dripping and he could feel the wetness sticking into his inner thighs.

He feels your lips on his neck as you let him get lost looking at your pussy, his breathing evidently getting heavy until you let him fuck you with his eyes enough, disrupting the static in his head.

“There. Put a finger in me.”

Jungkook's eyes widen at the bluntness of your words, his hand brushing accidentally to your inner thigh that it makes you exhale loudly. “I just put it in?”

The comical gaze he's fixed on you makes you snicker, humming a tune while he barely blinks.

“Well you fuck with me it for awhile, but yes, Koo. You put it in me as the first step.”

Jungkook blushes and he avoids mulling over the stupid question he's just asked that should've been rhetoric by now because for fuck's sake, the last time the two of you were in bed, he did eat the cum out of you while you were still in your shorts.

He wastes no time and inserts his finger into your dripping hole, seeing his finger disappear seamlessly, engulfed in your tight warm walls that the sight makes the lump in his throat hard to swallow.

The intrusion of his middle finger as he plunges the entirety of it makes you throw your head back at the sensation you haven't quite achieved in the past few months by yourself, clenching around the digit in bliss.

“B-but you’re so tight."

He stutters when you clench around his finger once more, experimenting in pulling it out until only the tip of his digit is in you and plunges it back again, a heedy moan escaping you with no remorse. “Fuck.”

You lift your hips to sink down on his finger and it makes him realize that he's sat frozen at the thought of how your pussy is so tight and he finds it overwhelmingly pleasurable even if it's just his finger in you, finding it within him to come to his senses and thrust it upwards when you didn’t expect it.

“Imagine it’s your cock in me,” you mutter in between moans when he experiments with ramming his digit into you faster, withdrawing a fucked-out whine when he unintentionally hooks it upward. “Feels like this but it’s much much better.”

Jungkook whines from your words alone because the thought itself makes him salivate, adding another digit into your pussy as he looks down to how it stretches and accommodates them snuggle, pointing them curved inwards that you instantly rub yourself around his fingers in small circles.

He keeps focused as he tries to draw more of the sounds you give him, egging him on to fuck you harder with his fingers because the way you moan his name is a reward within itself.

“You ready?”

In his selfless attempt at pleasuring you, Jungkook didn't realize that your hand's holding his wrist in place to keep it still, not even sure at all if he's made you cum already because his head's clouded with pleasure from giving you your own.

His eyes are dilated and focused entirely on you, watching your every move as you ease off from his fingers, holding his digits like he's never seen them before and sees them glistening with your essence — and Jungkook finds himself popping them into his mouth, moaning in ecstasy at a full taste of you.

The sight's enough to make your eyes widen, clenching around nothing when you see your boyfriend lapping up at his fingers to taste every last bit of you as if you aren't in front of him.

“You’re too precious,” you kiss the corner of his mouth that’s glossy with the taste of you and he hums in contentment with it, eyes shifting open when you pull away and you stand up from your seat on his thighs.

“Where are you going?”

He doesn't hide the panic in his voice at all and you want him to get rid of it entirely because you're not going anywhere, looking back at him as he gets back to his sense on how you're literally just five feet away from him.

“This is the part where you come with me,” you nudge him with a tilt of your head, a blush dusting his cheeks because he panicked for no reason. He stands up attentively, walking to where you stand right beside the chair you've just stood up on minutes ago. “Sit.”

Jungkook doesn't complain but he finds himself confused while he complies either way, looking back to the bed that he thought would be in use just like all the prior knowledge he's seen in the media he's consumed.

“I’ll ride you first,” you say and he effectively catches his attention, head whipping up to you. “Told you I was gonna take care of you, right?”

It's only then that it clicks in Jungkook's mind that he's sitting on a chair in front of the mirror because you're gonna ride him, the dots connecting as he's never realized that his impromptu request of you taking his virginity would end up in front of the very thing that got him coming over to your dorm today in the first place.

He's excited and he can't understand why you can't just ride him right now, your eyes flickering as if you're looking for something that he just now realizes.

“Are you looking for a condom?”

“Yeah,” you nod with amused eyes, pleasantly surprised that Jungkook noticed your silent search and even more surprised when he pipes up right after.

“I have one.”

“Since when did you carry around condoms?”

The giggle leaves you before you even realize it and Jungkook doesn't even flinch, the words leaving him determinedly and seriously that it makes him smile at the end of it.

“Since you gave me a blowjob.”

He watches your face register confusion until it turns into genuine laughter, making his mouth drop open in faux offense because you seem to not believe him. “I’m not kidding! I thought I should be ready at any moment after that.”

"You're insufferable. Where is it?"

His own chest rises in laughter when you speak in between peals of giggles, pointing to the pocket of his shorts as you walk to retrieve them.

“I went home hard that night because I literally couldn’t stop thinking. A-and I made Jimin drive me to the grocery as soon as I got home,” he winces in recollection and it makes you throw your head back when you come back to standing beside him, holding a silver packet between your fingers that his eyes glint at.

“No you did not,” you gasp in shock for what he probably made Jimin go through, although not entirely surprised because he's told you countless times that his roommate acts as a brazen older brother for him.

“I made him buy me my condoms because I was too shy to do it myself.”

“What a friend Jimin is.”

You chuckle as you put your leg over Jungkook's, getting acquainted his thighs and dangerously near his cock that it makes his reply weaken in anticipation while you're still dazed in laughter.

“You should hear when he asked me my size and I didn’t know how to determine it.”

“Oh my god,” you remark once you visualize the scene of Jimin asking your boyfriend his size in condoms, the laughter dying down as Jungkook's chest is frozen still. “I’ll kiss him on the cheek next time that I see him because he’s a saint.”

“Now don’t do that.”

He scoffs at the tiny reminder you set for yourself, rolling his eyes that later narrow when he sees a long line of your spit droop down to his member that already so wet, already slick and leaking even if you've barely done anything.

He watches you tear the packaging with nimble fingers and it reminds him how he's just practically seconds away of feeling and filling you, watching you pinch the tip of the condom before snugly fitting it on his cock.

“You take care of me so good.”

Jungkook mumbles and he says it not because you've just put on a condom for him, but because he feels the thought flash in neon lights on his head and he feels compelled to say nothing but the truth.

You kiss him on the lips for it, his eyes shutting close in sweetness when you press one more peck before pulling away.

“Tell me when it gets too much for you.”

Jungkook could never anticipate the sheer euphoria he feels at the back of his spine when you sink yourself on him achingly slow, head thrown back at the gush of newfound tightness.

His tip prods in you and once he looks down to see where your pussy stretches around him, it makes his eyes roll back sinfully, mouth parted open.

“So fucking tight.”

You sink down completely on him and that's when you feel the fullness of him that you've been craving for, stretching you into a pleasurable ache that could only be fixed as you have more of him into your pussy.

“You fill me up so good.”

“Oh my god,” Jungkook moans as he feels you on the hilt of his cock, unconsciously bucking up as he maxes out his length into your pussy that makes you shudder.

“That’s the spot, baby,” you whine at his pulsating length and he mewls attentively at the return of your endearment for him, wanting to milk out your sounds as much as he could at the moment.

He's stuck on how to do because he's sure he could just sit here and cum from your warmth alone, his thoughts being interrupted when you whisper to his ears in a definite tone.

“Sit pretty while I fuck myself on you.”

You suddenly bounce on his cock and Jungkook’s tummy clenches at the feeling of you and it shows with how he moans pornographically, your warm walls clenching around him for an even tighter fit that it suffocates him in the best way possible.

His balls feel full and Jungkook has his arms around your naked waist tightly and possessively, almost as if you’d slip away when you’re holding onto his shoulders just as tight.

“You love that? Love it when I bounce up and down your cock?”

Your voice is desperately on-edge and has the slightest hint of a mock, making your boyfriend's stomach tighten as he hits an intimately soft part inside you that makes you moan just as instantly, his closer position of him leaning against his chair making his cock graze your g-spot.

“I love it so much please.”

Jungkook's overwhelmed with pleasure but it's just not enough because he wants all of it, adjusting his grip on you in a way that he can easily lift you from underneath your thighs, bouncing you down even harder as he watches your pussy embrace him completely.

His neediness rubs a part of your ego you didn't even know you possessed, sucking a hickey on his neck and he obediently gives your more access, his eyes shut close in ecstasy.

Jungkook looks beautiful underneath you as you fuck yourself onto him but it's just not enough for you, wanting to see him in entirety.

“Open your eyes, baby,” you graze your nails on the length of his spine that makes him whine in sensitivity, eyes bursting open. You briefly stop riding him that it makes him whine at the loss of contact, bending backwards to grab his glasses that's perched on your vanity. “Wear your glasses for me.”

He blinks at your through thick lashes when you put them on him, holding by the chin to kiss his jaw as you make him look at the mirror behind you, the reflection of you turned against it while he's facing the glass, legs open and cock inside you as he realizes that he gets to see the entirety of you in this way.

“Look at how pretty you are while you’re fucking me.”

It's the last thing he hears before you bounce on his cock harder than you ever did, throwing your hips circling around him into the mix that it pushes him closer to his impending climax.

“Moaning for me prettily too. Aren’t you a treat, hm?”

Jungkook's vocal and it's never been lost on you that he tells you exactly how he feels, no shame in being loud because it's exactly what you make him feel.

His eyes are open and his eyebrows are raised in bliss, mouth parting open as you leave open-mouthed kisses on his neck that makes him whine even harder.

His eyeglasses were barely at the brim of fogging but now they're slightly frosted, making you wipe at them in hurry to see how your boyfriend's eyes are fixed on nothing but you at the moment but that's when you see — the whole reason why they were starting to fog up anyways.

“Are you crying?” you wipe on his tears from underneath his glasses and you slow down your pace, whining in place when he pinches your ass before ramming into you from his position below because you stopped moving.

“I’m crying because you make me feel so good.”

Jungkook admits immediately and he only became conscious of the tears on his cheeks when you pointed it out, unaware of them altogether because he's so stuck in his cloud of pleasure that nothing else mattered besides you and the high you give him.

You grind on him as soon as he bottoms out, keeping yourself pressed to him that drawls a needy stutter of your name in an instant.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna-“ he rams extra harder into you and grinds his hips in in small circles, “-cum! I’m gonna fucking-“

Jungkook moans the loudest you've ever heard from him as he shoots his release into the condom, feeling you riding out his high that makes him sound even more guttural.

He cums loads, knowing that he has it in him that his own high gives you your own not shortly after, the extra warmth enveloping his member that makes him whine in overstimulation.

He's sweaty with his head tilted back in the chair, his hair damp and his neck wet as he hears you chuckle, snapping him back to reality as he pulls you to his sweaty chest while he’s still inside of you.

“Hmm, are you okay? Do you want some water?” you check up on him amidst being in quite of a pant yourself. “I have some Gatorade in the fridge, I think. It’s for my next game but you can have it.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, pinching your side at the sound of you teasing him as you've literally just finished giving him his first and most mind-blowing orgasm he's ever had.

“Again?”

He toothily grins as he exhales, making you roll your eyes while he waits in patience.

“Catch your breath first, Jungkook.”

“I am, I am! Give me like two minutes and after that, we can fuck again, right?”

The transparent anticipation on his tone makes you coo at him, scratching his hair that makes him hum in contentment.

“Do you have any more condoms?”

What was supposed to be an innocent and genuine question makes Jungkook suddenly straighten up on his seat, almost making you fall backwards if he hadn't secured a hand on the small of your back.

His eyes widen comically, his cheeks reddening in recollection.

“When Jimin drove me to the grocery that night I uh, I used my debit card because all the bills I had were too big for the regular packs.”

“Jungkook...” you mumble his name and then could he hear the tone that basically inquired him on what the hell did he do, making him sheepishly look at the ceiling to avoid your gaze.

“A-and I didn’t want the cashier to hate me, nor Jimin because I made him buy them, because it was night and the cash registers were already probably collected and they didn’t have change.”

“Jungkook, oh my god...”

You should’ve noticed the way Jungkook’s backpack crinkles, or why the front pocket must be bulging even if he explains that he barely puts stuff in it because it's easily the most stealable portion of anyone's bag.

It explains why Jin once thought that he was hiding a tinfoil lunch in there one time when he walked into your dorm, not finding any reason for him to pack a lunch when you automatically make an extra portion for him when he comes over.

You make Jungkook look at you and his cheeks are bulging as he tries to hide the laughter from seeing you look beyond shocked at him, knowing that your boyfriend's considerate but not to this level.

“I bought a whole tray.”

.

.

.

and at last here it is!! stem koo's first time :D we've finally come to this peak besties omg if you've been here sometime when the chronological series was on-going, you'd know how this moment is ultimately monumental <3

as always, lmk what you think!! i love answering asks :D what do you want to see from the lunchbox lovers next? send them here <3

[thusspoketrish]

Showers in the Malfoy-Potter Household

Domestic, tooth-rotting, fluffy Married Drarry!!! Written for the prompt Fresh over at @drarrymicrofic. 2.3K words. Thank you to @curlyy-hair-dont-care for the thorough beta xx

I. That One Time with the Gloves…

“Bugger, I need to shower!” Harry shouts to the empty sitting room as he steps through the Floo, shoulders tense as he kicks off his muddy shoes, waving his wand to send them to the hamper and clearing the residual mess on his and Draco’s Brazilian Macchiato Pecan hardwood floors. On socked feet, Harry dashes up the stairs towards their ensuite, disrobing along the way as the charmed grandfather clock in the downstairs hallway strikes 14:00.

Any minute now, Draco will Floo back in from brunch with Narcissa and Lucius—the very brunch Harry said he couldn’t attend because he pulled Sunday rotation at the Ministry. In truth, he had actually signed up for THE GREATEST WEEKEND QUIDDITCH MATCH EVER!!! between the Department of Mysteries and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Harry had been surprised to learn that the DoM swots were a bunch of dirty playing wankers—their self-important swagger causing a stir on the ground and a gloriously brutal match in the air. Harry’s pretty sure he bruised his ribs when he struck the muddy ground at the end of the match. But even with his injury, Harry couldn’t help the wicked grin that crossed his face when Timmons, the DoM’s Seeker, watched in horror as Harry staggered to his feet, punching his Snitch-full fist triumphantly into the air.

The glory. The power. Harry feels like a warrior—he feels like a bloody beast!

The little white lie and a skipped brunch with the in-laws were worth it!

Once in the bathroom, Harry uses his wand to send his scattered muddy clothes to the hamper downstairs and turns the water on scorching hot. Stepping under the spray, his sore muscles relax. It’s absolutely blissful, and he can’t help the happy moans that escape him as the water sluices away the mud and sweat from his highly earned, brutal win. He chuckles darkly to himself. Those wankers from the DoM will be sucking on this one for months to come.

The shower curtain is pulled to the side, starling Harry so badly that he nearly slips, his head whipping around to face his smirking husband.

Draco sticks his head into the shower, making sure to avoid the stream, his eyes flashing. “Well, well, well. Look who’s getting so fresh and so clean after a hard day’s work.”

Harry huffs, covering his nipples with both hands as he says, scandalised, “Merlin! You scared the bloody hell out of me!”

“I’m sorry,” Draco says, sounding far from it. “I was so eager to see my husband after a lengthy morning away from him that all I could think about coming up the stairs was giving him the best shower blowie he’s ever had in his entire life…”

Harry grins. “Babe, I’ve missed you so much,” he says eagerly, stepping back under the spray. “Come on, get undressed and join me.” When Draco doesn’t move, Harry gestures inward. “Come on...come now…”

“Yeah, okay. Let me just��” Draco pulls from behind his back Harry’s dirty Quidditch gloves, dropping them into the shower as Harry gasps. The fresh dirt mingles with the water, swirling down the drain. Harry could’ve sworn he sent those gloves flying into the hamper.

Draco’s smile is shark-like, eager, and ready for blood. “Imagine my surprise when these came flying into my chest on my way up the stairs. I was so curious, I decided to have a quick search of the laundry room hamper, and lo and behold, I found all of your Quidditch gear, sweaty and smelling of fresh mud and grass, darling. Must’ve been one hell of a rotation this morning, huh?”

Harry holds up his hands. “I can explain—”

“Oh, really?”

“Er, yes…” Harry starts, running a hand through his soaked hair. “Babe, it’s those wankers from the DoM’s fault! They’re a bunch of posturing arseholes and someone had to put them in their place.”

Draco crosses his arms against his chest. “Ah, right. And that someone had to be you?”

Harry smiles sheepishly, shrugging. “Well…you know I’m the best Seeker in the Corps.”

Draco harrumphs, tilting his chin up and leaning against the wall next to the shower. “So, you know what this means, right?”

Harry bows his head. “Yeah…” he says sadly, shaking his head.

“What?”

Harry sighs. “No more Mimosa Sundays at Malfoy Manor?” he asks hopefully, peeking up at Draco through his wet, shaggy hair.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You know the mimosas at my parents' are bar none.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know…so, no blowie for me?”

“You’re damn right,” Draco says, yanking his head back and sharply pulling the shower curtain shut.

Harry grumbles to himself, turning back to the shower to rinse his hair. A minute or two passes before the shower curtain opens up again, a fully naked Draco stepping inside.

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t start grovelling the proper way: by sucking my cock,” Draco says with a smirk.

Harry laughs, wrapping his arms around Draco’s waist. “How did I land such a deeply compassionate, forgiving husband?”

“With that sinful mouth of yours, obviously,” Draco drawls, placing his hands on Harry’s shoulders to slowly push him down onto his knees.

II. That One Time Draco Was Trying to be Seductive...

Harry’s entering their bedroom, half an egg mayo sandwich in hand, when he notices Draco standing before the wardrobe mirror. “What are you doing?” he asks, pausing near the door.

Draco turns around, his arms spreading wide as he pops one narrow hip outward. He’s draped in an intricate floral-patterned gold bathrobe. “Do you like it? It’s new, darling. Just arrived from Italy. Rocco-inspired, heavy-weight close-knit silk lined with black satin…isn’t it gorgeous?” Draco purrs.

“Er…it’s quite something,” Harry says, biting into his sandwich.

“Neanderthal,” Draco tuts with a scowl before turning back to the mirror. He slides his hands reverently down the sides of his body as he tilts his head to the side. “It feels like fucking sex,” Draco whispers, his eyelids drooping.

Harry chokes on a bit of egg. Draco grins, ferally, as he faces Harry again.

“I have a surprise for you. Get undressed and meet me in the bathroom,” Draco says imperiously.

“Right now?” Harry asks around his sandwich, his eyebrows shooting up towards his hairline. “Why?”

Draco runs his hands down the front of his bathrobe, his eyes fluttering shut. “The things I’m going to do to you the moment you slip this robe off my body…”

That’s all Harry needs to hear as he sets his sandwich down on the nightstand to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor before levelling Draco with a heated stare and a wolfish grin. “Is that right? Well, go on, then. I’ll meet you there in a minute,” Harry says, now unbuttoning his trousers. When Draco heads towards the bathroom, Harry picks his sandwich back up and shoves the rest of it in his mouth before getting undressed.

When he’s fully naked, he opens the bathroom door, the entire room filled with fragrant steam so thick he can barely see Draco.

“Er?” Harry says, stepping into the bathroom. Draco stumbles forward, wand in hand.

“I think I may have overdone the steam a bit,” Draco says before promptly pitching forward. Harry misses him by just an inch because he can’t bloody see, and Draco lands face first on their tiled floor.

“I thought it would be sexy,” Draco whines from his position on the floor in Harry’s lap after Harry Rennervates him. There’s a red patch on his forehead and a trickle of blood coming out of his left nostril that Harry cleans up immediately.

“You were! You were so sexy,” Harry urges softly.

“But there was no arse groping. No kissing. No fucking. It was all so unpleasant!” Draco cries.

“Aw, babe. I’m sorry. I think we should take you to St Mungo’s just in case…”

Draco sighs, sitting up but swaying slightly. “Fine. Alright. But let’s not tell them the visit is due to my failed attempt at seduction.”

Harry stifles a laugh. “Of course not. C’mere,” he says, helping Draco to his feet. “You can seduce me after the Healer has ruled out a concussion, okay?”

“Okay. But only if you promise to take my new bathrobe off with your teeth later…”

III. That One Time with the Mongrel…

Draco’s writing out a pros and cons list to determine if they’ll be purchasing a cottage in Cornwall this summer when Harry appears in front of him, a black towel cradled against his chest that’s moving.

Draco quirks an eyebrow. “What in the fresh hell is wrong with that towel?”

Harry chuckles and pulls the towel back. Pressed against his chest is a tiny, muddy little Beagle.

“No,” Draco says firmly, setting his quill down.

“Wait! Don’t be so quick about it! C’mon, babe, she was all alone in the alley by the Ministry! No mum or dad in sight. I couldn’t leave her there!”

Draco closes his eyes against the utterly heartbroken look in Harry’s eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. Of course, Harry would bring home an orphan, Draco had been preparing himself for this day since they married four years ago, only, he thought said orphan would be a wee babe, not a filthy mongrel. He exhales, nods, and opens his eyes, hand dropping away from his face. “Okay. Well. I refuse to have this mongrel in our house looking and smelling the way it does.”

Harry’s face lights up as if Draco has promised him the moon, and the stars, and all the love in his entire being. All over again.

“So, can we keep her?” Harry asks excitedly.

“Yes, Harry. We can keep her.”

Harry surges forward to press a kiss against Draco’s mouth, taking Draco off guard but aiming perfectly, nonetheless. Draco can’t help the laugh that bubbles up his throat as Harry begins to litter kisses all over his face, the mongrel caught between them. “You’re going to love her, I promise. Just look at her! She’s bloody adorable, isn’t she?” Harry says, holding the beast out to Draco.

Draco’s nose scrunches up as the dark-eyed creature stares up at him. She’s so small she could fit in Draco’s cupped hands, but her smell is atrocious. “Sure…” Draco says slowly, leaning away.

Harry hums happily. “I think we should name her—”

“—Beasty,” Draco interrupts, gaze flickering up to Harry. Harry rolls his eyes.

“No, silly! We should name her Pepper. Because she sorta smells like black pepper.”

Draco wants to suggest to Harry that perhaps they need to visit St Mungo’s to get his nose examined, because the last time Draco checked, black pepper smelled absolutely nothing like faeces. But he refrains, the joyous look on Harry’s face well worth going along with the madness.

“Sure, darling, whatever you want. Pepper it is. But she’s going to need a bath.”

Harry nods. “Right, yes, let’s take her upstairs to our bathroom.”

Draco smiles tightly. “Ah, no. I just had that tub put in. I don’t want this mong—Pepper staining the porcelain.”

“Oh, right, right. Okay, well, we can bathe her in the tub down here.”

Draco links his fingers together over his list. “Yes, excellent idea. So,” he starts, eyeing the now droopy-eyed, stinky monster. “Should we use a Petrificus Totalus or—?”

“DRACO!” Harry gasps, looking completely horrified. “We can’t put Pepper in a full body bind, are you insane? She’s a puppy!”

Draco frowns, his eyebrows knitting together. “She’s covered in grime and you expect me to manoeuvre this beast into the tub with its full cooperation?”

Harry glares at him. “She’s the sweetest thing, and I’m sure we won’t have any problems getting her into the bath, okay? Just follow my lead.”

Draco shrugs. Harry hasn’t led him astray yet.

When they finally enter the downstairs bathroom, tub now full of water at the perfect temperature and a mild soap, Draco suddenly gets an armful of Pepper as Harry begins to shed his jacket and jumper.

Draco stares down at her.

She is quite cute, with her large, bulbous black eyes, long, floppy ears, and wee-frowny mouth. Draco believes he can actually come to love this gross little beasty.

“Let’s get you all fresh and clean, sweetie,” Harry says, taking her back from Draco to place her in the water.

That’s when all hell breaks loose.

As Harry struggles to keep a hold on her, Pepper lifts her paws away from the water as if it’s fire, wild yelps escaping her as she struggles out of Harry’s grasp, dropping into the water first before lunging straight at Draco.

Draco catches her, her tiny little body soaking through his very nice, very clean jumper.

“Fucking fuck, fuck…” Draco mutters, staring down at Pepper, warmth exploding in his chest. She’s shivering against him and the anger and shock immediately leave his body as he cradles her, a defeated groan escaping him as a section of his heart unlocks and opens up to this little beasty.

Harry laughs. “Merlin, you are just so bloody adorable,” he says.

Draco scoffs, even as he stares down fondly at her, rocking her in his arms. “She’s a menace, that’s what she is.”

“No…I mean you,” Harry says, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses, cheeks dimpled. Draco can feel the heat of a blush spilling across his cheeks as Harry leans forward to kiss him. When they part, Harry glances down at Pepper before meeting Draco’s eyes.

“We’re building our little family,” Harry says proudly.

Draco opens his mouth to say something mocking, but can’t, not with the ball of emotion that’s suddenly lodged in his throat. Instead, he blinks several times, glancing down at Pepper who’s staring up at him with her large eyes, tail wagging.

“Oh,” Draco says softly. “I suppose we are.” He sniffs. “I think it’s best if we get Beasty Pepper to the vet instead, maybe they can help us give her a proper bath. Shall we?”

Draco smiles as Harry drapes an arm around his shoulders. “Yes, let’s do it, babe,” Harry responds tenderly.

[dameronology]

love in the time of p.t.a. meetings {marcus moreno} - 4/5

summary: after a few months of slightly chaotic bliss, you & marcus start to think about the next steps in your relationship. {series masterlist}

warnings: swearing 

this is up a little later than i wanted & i do apologise, i once again stayed up all night and i cannot recount a single thing i’ve done. enjoy!

- jazz

Things between you and Marcus quickly fell into a routine.

You kind of had to when you both had kids; their lives needed structure. Depended on it, in fact. It wasn’t long before both of your lives were entangled in more ways than one, mostly for the sake of Missy and Jack having security around them but also because things between you were so good. Neither of you were trying to rush by any means, but when it worked, it worked. You were both good at communicating with each other - not that many issues really cropped up - and you both understood that your children came first. Things progressed easily and naturally, and he made you feel secure enough that you didn’t have to question whether or not it was too good to be true. 

Five months had quickly passed and you were both comfortable. Marcus Moreno was your boyfriend and it wasn’t a big deal. Okay, it had been at first - especially the first time he planted a kiss on your lips in front of the minivan brigade - but now? It was normal. It felt like he’d always been there, and you took it as a good sign. You got on well with Missy, especially since she’d witnessed your spat with Carol and started to think the world of you, and Jack...well, he was obsessed with Marcus. You couldn’t blame the kid. 

‘Jack! Put the soup down!’ 

It was another one of those mornings. It was a Sunday, so you didn’t have to worry about getting up early for school or work but you’d been at Marcus’ till late the night before. You and Jack ended up spending a lot of time at his; there was a swimming pool and a big garden for Optimus Prime to run around in, so it tired both of your tiny spawns out, which worked in your favour.

 Even when the kid had spent four hours swimming last night, he’d still risen that morning at 6AM like Jesus Christ on the third day. You’d woken to find the kitchen covered in smashed eggs and ham, then your oven had broken and the toilet was blocked again. 

You’d been halfway through reversing the problem when you’d heard Jack shuffling in the kitchen. You were stood in the hallway, still in your pyjamas, with a toilet brush in one hand and the other balled up into a fist. 

‘Jack, the soup is about to-’

You paused mid-sentence, watching as the bowl he was trying to reach for toppled straight off of the counter. You’d only washed his hair ten minutes ago, and you might as well have not fucking bothered because it was now covered in chunky vegetable soup. And the Chewbacca onesie he loved so much? Trying to peel that off him for the next few hours to wash the Heinz out of it was going to be a whole task in itself. You’d only just been to the laundrette the day before, and you’d gotten to the point in life where having a place with its own washing machine was a sign of success. 

‘Mum, there’s soup in my hair.’

‘It’s okay.’ You took a moment to breath. ‘We are not going to cry.’

‘I’m not crying.’

‘Wasn’t talking to you, buddy.’ You rubbed your temples for a moment. ‘C’mon, let’s go hop in the bath.’

So much of parenting was just...stopping to breath. Stopping to take a moment to remind yourself that although your love for your child was unwavering and unconditional, you sometimes felt like screaming. All you’d done for the last five hours was go in circles, cleaning and lecturing and cleaning some more. It made you wish you were at work that day, because at least then you could have conversations with people that weren’t about what cheese they wanted for lunch or what cartoon they wanted to watch. 

‘I just had a bath.’ Jack muttered. 

‘Yeah well, you need another one.’ You took another deep breath. ‘I’ll be there in a minute-’

‘- I don’t want a bath!’

‘And I don’t want a kid that’s covered in soup!’ You shot back. ‘C’mon, buddy. Just do as I say, please?’

Your conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door. You frowned for a moment - you weren’t expecting anyone. There was no post on Sundays and you hadn’t seen your landlord since the day you’d moved in. Your nosey neighbour knocked sometimes, usually asking about the noise (he didn’t have kids, clearly) and you were this close to telling him to mind his own fucking business. 

‘I swear to god, if that’s David again, I am going to shove this can of soup up his - Marcus!’ You almost did a double take when you saw your boyfriend stood at the door - he really chose his times, didn’t he? You hadn’t even had time to put the fucking toilet brush down. ‘Hey.’ 

‘Hey, baby.’ He greeted you slowly, eyes slowly taking in your appearance (and not in a sexy way). ‘Were you not expecting me?’

‘Shit, did we have plans?’ Your eyes widened. 

‘No, but Jack called. He said you’d asked him to ask me to come over, but I realise half way through that sentence that starting with Jack called probably means you had no idea.’ He offered you a goofy smile. ‘He said that the sofa had exploded and that you needed help.’

There was a lot to unpack there. When had Jack done that? More to the point, when had he learnt to use the phone? How had he worked out your phone password? The kid couldn’t do up his own velcro and now he was a Russian hacker, apparently. 

‘Oh my god.’ You groaned. ‘I am so sorry. Things have been batshit here this morning and I’m sure he had my best interests in his weird little heart, but he made you come all this way-’

‘- Marcus!’ Speaking of the devil.

Jack pushed past you, wrapping his arms around Marcus’ waist. He leant down to pick him up, lifting him off the ground - albeit at a distance, due to Soupgate. 

‘Hey, buddy.’ He greeted him. ‘You been causing trouble again?’

‘Not on purpose.’ Jack replied. ‘Mum says I need another bath.’

‘I think she’s right.’ Marcus said. ‘Why don’t you go pick out some clothes and come back in a minute, yeah?’

‘Okay!’ Seemingly impressed by the newfound trust in him to choose an outfit, Jack wriggled himself back down to the floor, trotting towards his bedroom. Seriously, how did Marcus do that? Perhaps his ability to have authority over your archaic child was another hidden power of his. 

‘You look like you need a break, baby.’ He reached out, gently running a hand down your arm.

‘I’m fine, he’s just been a lot today.’ You sighed.

‘You have soup on your shirt and fluff in your hair.’

‘Couch stuffing.’

‘Huh?’

‘It’s couch stuffing. Except that was Optimus Prime and not Jack, which makes a nice change.’ You muttered.

‘Look, Missy is at her abuela’s today and she’s been begging for ages to see Jack again.’ He said. ‘What d’you say I drive him over there, you clean up and we hang out? Just us, no kids, no dogs, no stress.’

‘That sounds like a fucking dream.’ You couldn’t help but smile. ‘But Optimus has consumed half the couch and I gotta keep an eye on him-’

‘-we can bring him with us!’ Marcus grinned. ‘He loves the garden.’

‘Are you sure? Because I remember you saying you had work plans today and I don’t want you to cancel them on account for the fact I can’t control my own kid. Or life.’

‘You two come first.’ He said it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. ‘Three, including Optimus Prime.’

--

In the time it took Marcus to drive Jack to his mum’s and get back to yours, you were able to clean up. The apartment was still a state, but it hadn’t been properly tidy in...how many days had it been since Jack was born? Because it hadn’t been clean in exactly that many days. You felt a little bad dumping him on Anita when he was still covered in soup, but if anyone was able to wrestle him into the bath and some clean clothes, it was her. You’d met her a few times and she was absolutely lovely, but you had no doubt she could be terrifying when need be. She was the sort of woman you aspired to be.

By midday, you were driving out the city. There was music playing quietly over the radio and you were watching the houses go by; even though it was cold out, you had the heater on and you were bundled up in a leather jacket, Marcus’ scarf snugly around your neck. It smelt faintly of his aftershave, which had become one of your favourite scents over the last five months. The time had gone so quickly. You’d seen each other practically every day since then, and having the kids meant you’d been fallen into being domestic pretty quickly. The simplicity of it all - him and you and getting to this point so easily - was overwhelming in itself. 

Your first relationship had been so complicated - so finicky and filled with unnecessary arguments. That should have been a sign early on, but then you’d gotten pregnant with Jack and getting married had seemed like the obvious thing to do. His presence meant you wouldn’t have changed anything, not for the entire fucking world, but it made you a little sad to think about how long you’d wasted on what had clearly been the wrong person. Meanwhile, Marcus’ situation had been entirely different; he’d had the right person the first time around and then he’d lost them. You never felt like a replacement to his wife, or even thought about the notion, really. That had been another part of his life. You were a new part and it didn’t mean he was forgetting the past. The two could co-exist without taking away from each other. 

‘You’re deep in thought.’ Marcus observed. He moved one of his hands to rest on your leg, giving it a light squeeze. He did that a lot, usually whenever you were sat beside him at the table or on the sofa. It was just a him thing. 

‘Yeah, sorry.’ You tore your gaze away from the window. ‘My brain always goes a little into overdrive when things are quiet.’

He chuckled. ‘What’s on your mind?’

‘You, actually.’ You tangled your fingers with his, thumb brushing over the back of his hand. ‘I was just thinking about lucky I am and how good things are, and how it almost feels too good to be true.’

‘Better believe it, baby.’ He replied. ‘Because it is true.’

‘I know.’ You peered over at him with a smile. ‘It’s just...my only perceptions of relationships were based on the single one I’ve had. Everything was so complicated and exhausting. This is completely different and it’s so nice. And normal. And I don’t know, that sounds stupid-’

‘- it’s not stupid at all.’ Marcus peered over at you, shaking his head. ‘It’s natural to be a little apprehensive after a bad relationship and if there’s anything I can do to help, you just have to tell me. You know that, right?’

Maybe it was the way he said it, or maybe it was just him, but you knew for certain that he meant that. There was sort of a silent agreement now that you were both in this for the long haul. Your mum had always said that you’ll know when you know but you’d always written that off. Mostly because you hadn’t known the first time round. But, now you did. You did know and though you weren’t going to admit that to Marcus, you never doubted him for a second. 

‘I do.’ You said. ‘But he’s in the past now - and hopefully it’s where he fucking stays.’

‘I have contacts. I can find him and set Miracle Guy on him.’ Marcus’ grin had returned. ‘Just say the word.’

‘You make a tempting offer.’ You smiled back at him. ‘But the past is the past and I’m ready to...slam the lid on that dumpster.’

‘Do you think he’ll ever want to come back into Jack’s life?’

You pondered for a moment. ‘I don’t think so, but if he did, I dunno if I’d let him. I never wanna be the person who stops someone from seeing their kids but what he did was...it was unforgivable.’

‘You don’t have to make that decision until it actually happens.’ Marcus gently said. ‘And I’ll support whatever you choose.’

He pulled into the drive way of his house - his nice, clean, sofa-stuffing-and-soup free house. Optimus Prime leapt out the car as soon as the door was open, practically tearing past the two of you and down towards the yard. There was a moment of silence and then a splash!

‘Guess he found the pool.’ Marcus commented. ‘At least it’s heated, I s’pose.’

Truth be told, he loved having the three of you at his house. It felt like whatever had been missing before was slowly making an appearance as your relationship progressed. The irony was that you brought nothing but chaos and clutter with you, but that was exactly what made it feel like a home. It was small things; the painting that Jack had done for him at after school club was now hung up up on the fridge, and there was a photo of him and Missy on the fireplace with Optimus Prime. Half of the thousands of blankets of pillows that had been at your place had ended up on his sofa, thanks to the countless sleepovers. 

If he could have it his way, Marcus would have you live with here all the time. The energy that you and Jack brought made everything feel complete. He loved the evenings where Missy and Jack would play out in the pool, and you two would sit back inside, complaining about the cold. Then there were the nights where you’d take both the kids back here when he was working late, and he’d come home to find you piled on the couch watching an old movie, with your burnt cooking abandoned on the stove, surrounded by boxes of left over take out. It was the kind of thing that was so simple and so domestic, but it was everything he wanted. 

That was probably the flashpoint moment when Marcus Moreno realised he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. He already knew he loved you - he’d worked that out about three months in, when you’d fallen asleep in one of his shirts whilst trying to wait up for him - but he hadn’t said it. He’d hinted at it and made back-handed comments but he’d barely admitted it to himself, let alone to anyone else. He knew what you and Jack had gone through before and it broke his entire fucking heart. You both deserved someone who stand by you and support you, someone who would embrace you both for the craziness and warm energy you brought everywhere with you. More than ever, he was realising he wanted to be that person who gave it you. After all, you’d made his life so much brighter without even trying.

Snapping out of his trance, Marcus looked over at you. You’d already ditched your shoes and dropped onto the sofa, pulling one of the blankets with you. This was exactly what you needed. A quiet house, your favourite person and a cable knit blanket. 

‘Hey, baby?’ 

You looked over at him, smiling at the name. ‘Yeah?’

‘You know I love you, right?’

You blinked in surprise, sitting up. ‘I know.’

‘You do?’

‘You’ve never said it, but I can tell.’ You nodded, before offering a smile. ‘And I love you too.’

‘I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.’ He slowly approached you, dropping onto the sofa beside you and taking your hands in his. ‘I think I just got so caught up in everything and feeling everything that I forgot.’

‘Why are you apologising?’ You couldn’t help but scoff at him, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips. ‘It’s your actions that say it, Marc. Hearing it is good but you showed it a long time ago.’

‘I know, but really you deserve to hear it everyday.’ He smiled against you, helping you move onto his lap. 

‘You do tell me everyday, with the things you do.’ You reminded him. ‘Like meeting me in the parking lot with coffee, or bribing Jack into going to bed early with video messages from your superheroes, or doing my grocery shopping when you know money is short.’

‘Why wouldn’t I do those things?’ Marcus seemed genuinely confused. ‘It’s you.’

‘I love you.’ You repeated the phrase. 

‘And I love you.’

He pulled you into another kiss - this time it was a little firmer, not unlike your second declaration of love. Marcus did all those things without thinking, simply out of his intense want for you to just be happy. He was the same with Missy, always doing little things to make her life easier just because. It was just part of who he was, and it made him happy to see his loved ones happy. 

With your body pressed against his and your hands tangled in your hair, Marcus realised he didn’t want you to ever leave again. He didn’t want you to have to drive home in the dark at ten because all of your stuff was on the other side of town. You did stay over sometimes, but then you’d have to creep out at 6AM with a sleeping Jack in your arms to get home in time to get ready. He wanted you here all the time. You should have been here all the time. 

‘Move in with me?’ 

He both did and didn’t mean to say it out loud. He did because he wanted you so badly to be a permanent fixture in the house, but he also didn’t because the idea might have been a little absurd. Was it too soon? What if you didn’t want to leave your place? He knew you loved your apartment. It was your home and had been for a long time.

‘What?!’ You suddenly pulled back from the kiss, eyes wide. 

‘I mean...if you want to.’ Marcus slowly said. ‘Hell, Missy and I can move to your place if that’s what you want. It might be tight but she loves the dog and I just want to be with you-’

‘- hey!’ You cut him off, planting your hands on his shoulders. ‘You’re rambling again, but that’s besides the point. I would love to live here.’

‘You would?’

‘I would.’ You smiled. 

It made sense. Aside from the glaringly obvious fact you wanted to, it was also practical. It was closer to the school, closer to your work and it had a fucking swimming pool. Marcus was already clearly financially secure and moving in wouldn’t mean relying on him, but it would have meant that things for Jack were a lot more stable. Missy loved the company of you both, and it meant she would finally have the dog she wanted so bad. 

‘Missy would be okay with it, right?’ You asked.

‘She was the one who put the idea in my head, actually.’ Marcus admitted. ‘I’d thought about it but then she kind of asked in passing why you don’t live here, and I couldn’t give her an answer.’

‘Your kid is smart.’

‘D’you think Jack will-’

‘- I’m going to stop you there.’ You cut him off.

‘Right, I probably don’t need to ask that question.’ He chuckled.

‘Exactly.’ You pressed a kiss to his nose. ‘Don’t forget the dog, either.’

‘How could I? I can literally see him peeing on my lawn right now.’

‘Our lawn.’

--

Exactly three weeks later - and after a hefty amount of paperwork and hours of sorting through Jack’s endless amounts of crap that he insisted on hoarding - moving day came. 

Anita had insisted on having the kids again. They were both excited, but perhaps a little too much. They were probably more likely to get in the way of things if anything. Children, a dog and large boxes? It seemed like a match made in hell. Plus, she had a whole ass training course in her back garden and if that didn’t wear the kid out, then you were definitely going to take him to the Heroics to get tested. The thought alone was enough to tire you out. 

You didn’t have too much stuff to move. You’d been half-moved into the damn place before Marcus had even made the formal proposal, so that made things a lot easier. You were keeping your sofa for Jack’s room, but the rest was going to Goodwill. Most of it had come from there in the first place.

‘I think that’s the last box.’ Marcus announced, exiting the bedroom. ‘I didn’t realise that a five year could own so many variations of storm-trooper toys.’

‘Oh, yeah.’ You replied. ‘There’s the original trilogy ones, sequel trilogy ones, dark troopers, shock troopers, clone troopers - and I realise half way through listing them that you don’t care.’

‘I never said that!’ He placed his hands on your waist, pressing a kiss to your forehead. ‘I’m excited to learn.’

‘I’m sure Jack is excited to tell you.’ You grinned. 

Then, it faltered slightly with the realisation you were actually leaving this place. You’d never intended for it to be your permanent home, but it had still been the centre of your entire universe for half a decade. Every room told a story; the crayon marks on the bathroom wall, the dents behind the TV from, the crack in the living room mirror. All caused by Jack, naturally. The last five years was contained entirely within these four walls and you got bleary eyed at the idea of it becoming someone else’s. 

‘Hey, don’t cry.’ Marcus gently wiped away a tear from your cheek. 

‘You know, the rent is still paid till the end of the month so we could revisit the idea of you and Missy living here instead.’ You tearfully smiled. 

‘You’re kidding but you know I’ll do it.’ He pressed another kiss to your nose, grip on your arms tightening. 

‘It’s okay.’ You moved so that the kiss landed on your mouth instead, capturing his lips in a brief kiss. ‘I knew we were gonna outgrow this place. I just didn’t expect it to be so soon.’

‘I know. Still kinda feels like it all came out of no-where, huh?’ He replied. ‘In the best way.’

‘You’re right. In the best way.’ You firmly nodded. ‘Can you believe I was 23 when I moved into this place? I found it on Craiglist within ten minutes of finding out I was pregnant.’

‘Do you wanna take a minute before we go?’

‘No, it’s fine.’ You shook your head. ‘We should get going.’

The apartment was just that: an apartment. And the house you were going to was just that: a house. But the people you were with? That’s what made it count. It wasn’t about the four walls or the roof over your head, or whether or not it had a big yard and a jacuzzi bath tub (though, that did help). It was about the laughter and warmth inside; the faces in the photos on the wall and the people you came home to after a long day. It was the smell of your burnt cooking and the pizza you’d ordered in place. It was Jack’s toys left in the exact place where someone could trip and it was Missy using all the hot water in the morning so that Marcus’ showers were practically arctic. It was everyday things that reminded you of the people around you; the people that made it home, and how lucky you were to have them.

That was home. And you’d found yours. 

taglist: @naivara-duneimith @1-2-3-4-5metalfingers @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky​ @lyanna-the-giantsbane @phoenixhalliwell @crazycookiecrumbles​ @bitchin-beskar​ @comphersjost

[bonjour-rainycity]

Home Again

Prompt: Domestic bliss/a day in the life (Content Challenge Day 2)

Pairing: Haldir x Female Reader

Rating: T

Word count: 2164

Warnings: Maybe I pushed the ‘T’ rating a little. There’s nakedness but like...tasteful nakedness? Also lots of kissing. And suggestions. And so much fluff. 

A/n Welcome to Day 2 of my content challenge! You can find the challenge’s masterlist here and my personal masterlist here. Happy reading :) 

Light shines into my closed eyes, and, mumbling in annoyance, I roll over, smushing my face into the pillow.

The ellon to my left chuckles warmly, wrapping an arm around my waist. “No, no, meleth nîn. Now that I know you are awake, I shan’t let you escape my attentions.”

I laugh as Haldir leans over me and peppers my face and neck with tiny kisses, encouraging me to roll onto my back. After much giggling and futile attempts to return to sleep, I comply, allowing him to kiss me fully on the lips. I sigh into the kiss, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and pulling him closer to me.

“I’ve missed this,” I breathe, closing my eyes when Haldir places a gentle kiss on my collarbone. “Three months is too long.”

At this, he raises his head, showing me the apology in his eyes “I know. I am sorry for leaving you for such a time, but I cannot ask it of my wardens and not hold myself to the same standard.”

I take one of his hands in mine, fiddling with his fingers. “You are much too honorable for my liking, Marchwarden.”

His playfulness from earlier returns, and he wraps his arms under my back. “I take offense! I shall have to prove to you that I am no such ellon.” With that, he releases his knees, dropping his full weight on top of me.

“Haldir,” I laugh, trying to push him off of me. “You must move, I cannot breathe!”

He buries his face in the crook of my neck, and I feel his smile against my skin. “Now what were you saying? I doubt an honorable ellon would try to squish his wife.”

“I shall have you arrested for attempted murder,” I gasp, elbowing him in the ribs and kicking at his shins.

He grins languidly, but relieves the pressure on me slightly. “And who is going to carry out this arrest? I am, as you say, the Marchwarden of this realm.” He raises a haughty eyebrow. “And I have no intention of incarcerating myself.”

I bump my nose against his, earning myself a soft smile. “Then it seems I shall have to lock you up.”

Haldir’s lips drop to mine, and he kisses me with a passion that has me quite willing to stay in this bed all day. “Such promises she makes,” he teases, and then seems to reign himself in. With a final, much more innocent kiss, he rises to his knees, offering me a hand. “Would you like breakfast?”

I enjoy my first full breath in minutes and take his hand, following him out of the bedroom. “You have been at the borders for three months. Sit, and let me cook for you.”

He does as he’s bid and, while I gather ingredients, he perches on one of the high stools that faces into kitchen. He does not stay on his side of the counter long, though, and soon wraps his arms around my waist, holding me closely against him as I cook.

There’s a knock on the door and Haldir and I exchange questioning looks. With a raised eyebrow, he releases me and walks through the talan to the front door. It’s not long before I hear the jovial greetings of Orophin and Rumil, and, smiling to myself, I retrieve two more plates from the cabinet.

Haldir enters the kitchen, his younger brothers in tow. “Do you mind, my love?”

“Not at all,” I grin, pulling the ellyn in for hugs.

“Of course she minds,” Rumil laughs, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek before sitting on a stool. “Her husband only just got back last night, and now she’s got a kitchen full of guests. I’m sure she’d much rather be f—”

I hurry to interrupt the youngest of the three, carefully placing some fruit on his plate. “You know you are both welcome here any time, I—”

“Relax, Y/n,” Orophin laughs, holding up a hand to stop my protests. “Rumil and I do not plan to stay long. We only wanted to see our brother, make sure he’s in one piece.”

“And have breakfast,” Rumil declares, mouth full of bread. Haldir rolls his eyes and darts a quick hand out to shove Rumil’s head towards the counter. Rumil only just keeps his head from connecting with the wood, and ducks around Haldir’s outstretched arm to push at his chest.

“Enough,” I laugh, sitting down with my own plate. The two eye each other with amused suspicion, but otherwise obey.

The four of us inevitably get on the topic of Haldir’s time away, and he regals us with the more entertaining stories from the borders. Before we know it, the morning has passed us by, and Orophin and Rumil must rush away to attend to their duties.

Haldir closes the door behind them, then pulls me into his arms. “Thank you for putting up with them.”

I snort and lay my head against his chest. “You know I love them.”

We stay there for a few minutes, wrapped in each other’s embrace. Haldir eventually pulls back and pushes me in the direction of our bedroom. “Change into something suitable for hiking. I’m taking you to the woods.”

I do as requested, rolling my eyes as I go. “You ask so politely.”

“It’ll be worth it,” he calls after me, and, because I can hear the excitement in his voice, I decide to believe him.

{***}

Two hours later and we are still walking.

“You know, I was only joking this morning, but now I think you might actually be trying to kill me,” I huff, struggling up the millionth hill of our hike.

My husband only laughs, reaching for my hand. “We are minutes away, meleth.”

To his credit, Haldir was right. Not five minutes later, the ‘trail’ ends and we stand on a cliff, overlooking a deep pond. I glance between Haldir and the water in delight — he knows how much I love a swim. “How did you find this?”

He shrugs like it’s nothing, though his chest puffs out. “I came across it during a scouting excursion a few weeks ago. I’ve been thinking of taking you here ever since.”

“I’m grateful,” I smile, leaning my back against his chest and pulling his arms to encircle me. He tightens his grip and starts a trail of lingering kisses up and down my neck. “It’s the perfect day, too,” I mumble weakly. The sun is shining, the air is hot, and a dip in the cool, clear water is just what I need.

I notice, perhaps belatedly, that neither of us brought proper swimming attire.

But it seems Haldir has planned for that.

He doesn’t stop his kisses when he speaks against my neck. “Take off your clothes.”

I let my eyes flutter shut. The sound of his voice and the way he sucks on my pulse point leaves me with no desire to protest. I pull at the ties on my tunic, and he follows suit. Soon, we are both undressed completely, standing naked in the shining sun.

Haldir pulls my mouth back to his, and, absently, I remember that, though we are in a secluded area, the woods is not necessarily private. “This area is unknown?”

His lips twitch against mine, and he pulls back so I can see his assured smile. “No one is around. No one will know we are here.”

That’s good enough for me. I wrap my arms around my husband’s neck and move to kiss him again, but he scoops me up in his arms, grinning wickedly.

Oh no. “Haldir-”

With a confidence that’s both infuriating and wildly attractive, he winks…

And steps off the cliff.

The water is much colder than I imagined, and I shriek the moment it touches my skin. Haldir finds this quite amusing, though I note with a smirk of satisfaction that a shiver runs up his own spine.

Not so invincible.

With that in mind, I wriggle out of his arms and splash as much water as I possibly can in his direction.

For a moment, he looks so utterly betrayed that I feel a twinge of guilt.

But then he lunges me, and all sympathy disappears.

He grips my shoulders firmly and shoves me under the water. He lets me up almost immediately, but the damage is done.

He’s submerged me in the freezing water twice already, and I cannot let that go.

I jump at him, but his skills on the battlefield apparently apply also to water fights, and he is much too quick for me. He places one arm behind my back and the other behind my legs and brings me into his arms, cradling me against his chest—despite my struggles.

“There, there,” he laughs over my protests. “Deep breaths now.”

I glower at him and manage to get a hand free, splashing a spout of water into his face. He raises an eyebrow, replacing his carefree laughter with the trademark Marchwarden Stoicism.

“Is that the best you’ve got?”

I lift my own eyebrow, meeting his challenge. “Release me and find out.”

He opens his mouth to retort, but the wind rustles the leaves, and he tenses.

I freeze against him, knowing Haldir well enough to see that, in the slight noise from the moving greenery, he has found cause for concern.

“What is it,” I whisper, but he raises a hand, cautioning for silence. I purse my lips together and strain my ears, trying to hear the forest as he does. Centuries in the trees have made him hyper-sensitive to every rock, leaf, animal — and intruder.

I gulp, tightening my grip on his shoulders.

Without warning, Haldir plunges me into the water once again, and I sputter, finding myself pressed against the cool skin of his back.

“M-Marchwarden,” a voice stutters out.

Oh Valar.

I’m suddenly painfully aware of how naked I am.

“Erlan,” Haldir sighs, giving the young ellon a displeased stare.

I recognize the name. Erlan is the newest member of Lothlórien’s Guard, only just having come of age some twenty years ago. Haldir says he is inexperienced, but shows promise, and frequently does week-long stints as part of the forest patrol.

“I-I am so sorry, Marchwarden. I did not mean—” While the elf stumbles over his words, Haldir tries to discreetly lower his hands to cover the essentials, but the movement draws Erlan’s eyes. Realizing what he’s doing, Erlan jerks his head upwards, staring safely at the sky. “Oh my, I am so—”

“Just leave, Erlan,” Haldir grits out, the pink twinge to his cheeks slightly damaging his commanding tone.

Erlan tries for a respectful bow, but as he bends, his eyes lock with mine and he yelps, straightening quickly. Haldir shifts to block me completely from view, raising an arm in Erlan’s direction. “Go!”

Erlan nearly runs into a tree in his haste to escape, and the hilarity of the situation overrides any embarrassment I might feel. I laugh, wrapping my arms around Haldir’s middle, encouraging him to turn in my arms. He does so, though his eyes scan our surroundings suspiciously.

To distract him from his anger, I press kisses to his chest, and, eventually he relaxes in my arms. Once I know his ire has passed, I rest my chin against his sternum, looking up at him with a wide grin. “I thought you said no one would find us.”

He fixes me with an unimpressed glare, the redness returning to his cheeks. “I will be speaking with him first thing tomorrow morning. His observation skills are—”

“Still in progress,” I interject, dragging my hands up his chest until I reach his shoulders. “Go easy on the poor ellon.” Using my grip, I pull myself up, wrapping my legs around his hips.

This seems to put him in a much more favorable mood, and he hums softly, laying his head against my shoulder. “I suppose you’re right. It could’ve happened to anyone.”

“Exactly,” I smile, pleased that I still have the ability to distract him like this even after a century of marriage. “Though I do believe that no one will be intruding upon us now, since Erlan is there to warn them.” I brush my lips against his shoulder, hinting at my intentions.

“My, you are smart,” his chuckle rumbles against me, and I dip my head to meet the lips that soon quirk teasingly against mine. “I knew I kept you around for a reason.”

I pull back, leveling him with a glare that rivals his own.

He attempts to school his expression, though he retains a mocking glint in his eye. “Intelligent and terrifying. I think I’ve hit the jackpot.”

I dip a hand into the water and flick it back towards his face, effectively wiping away his smug expression. “Do shut up.”

Laughing once more, he pulls me back to him, picking up where we left off.

I love having him home.

Even if I definitely plan on half-drowning him before we leave.

A/n So does anyone else adore Haldir, or is it just me? 

Likes, comments, and reblogs mean the world to me! Let me know what you thought and if you would like to be added to a tag list :) If you have any questions about the challenge, feel free to message me/submit an ask!

Challenge participants*: @game-ofthe-company @grunid @themerriweathermage @errruvande

*As far as I know. Please let me know if I’ve missed someone!!! 

[dboliklover]

Domestic Bliss

Summary: Shu Sakamaki never believed he would be a family man. You did, and continue, to prove him wrong. 

Never did Sakamaki Shu believe he could feel happiness.

But, just as you always did, you proved him wrong. You always did, somehow. And though he scarcely would be inclined to admit it, he didn’t find it all that troublesome as he pretended. In fact, he found it quite pleasant - the way that you’d make up your mind and always come through. It was admirable. 

And he loved you for it. At the very least, he loved you to the best of his ability. When he first met you, Shu didn’t think you would become anything remotely important to him. There were few things he cared about in this life anymore. And then you clawed your way into his heart, bloodily and greedily tearing him apart until he felt like he could no longer breathe. 

Heh, how very troublesome. 

His azure eyes observed as you laughed with a breath of fresh Spring air, the setting sun painted over the horizon, illuminating the world - and you - in its breath-taking pastel light. The vampiric man was haphazardly sat on a stone bench out in the garden, silently and sleepily watching with steely eyes as you danced around the multitudes of flowers which had just come back to life with the return of Spring, your hands joined with the smaller hands of your two daughters, just as gorgeous as their mother. 

It was a scene out of a movie, more than anything else. Something that, had you told him he would have years ago, he would’ve rolled his eyes and huffed at the notion of Marriage.  Children.  Bliss. 

Domestic life was something he never expected to have - it was the furthest thing from his mind until he met you and now he felt like he was living in a dream, constantly afraid he was going to wake up alone and that this beautiful life he crafted by your side would be destroyed.  Fear nipped at him and he shut his eyes tightly, trying to immortalise this moment in his soul. 

Shu lacked any proper example of a happy familial life - the hope for such a thing was worthless for the majority of his life. His childhood - and that of every brother - was filled with grief and sorrow. 

Until you. 

Everything changed - bloomed - when you found a way to get around his defences. 

And now he had a family. A real family - one that he was going to protect with his dying breath. Problems arose, of course they did, nothing was ever simple in this forsaken family, but as long as he had you and the girls - he knew that it was going to be alright.

You’d make it through, somehow. Besides, he still didn’t care much for his familial drama, preferring to stay out of said problems unless they directly threatened him, his wife or children. 

Wife.

Such a strange, wonderful word. 

You were his wife. 

It was still difficult for him to fully comprehend, despite the fact you’ve been married for several years. He’d vowed to himself, once, that he would avoid marriage - the last thing he wanted was for history to repeat itself. But with you, everything was different. 

He couldn’t imagine his life without you, anymore. 

Without you or your children. 

You, Kasumi and Rei were his entire universe. How funny it seemed to him, that somehow you made him want to settle down, willingly. And he couldn’t imagine doing it with anyone else but you, especially as his eyes saw the way your daughters giggled with you, spinning around in the gentle evening atmosphere, seeking their mother’s and his approval as they performed this youthful dance. 

“Look at me! Daddy! Look at me!” 

His lips tugged up into a half-smile, eyes tiredly staring at the little girl in front of him, jumping around wildly. “I’m a ballerina!” He nodded his head once, humming in response, crossing his arms loosely. “I can dance better!” Rei whined, running in front of her sister, trying to get their father’s attention, causing a sweet laugh to leave your delicate lips. 

“Come now, girls,” You spoke up, gaining both their attention, “You’re both talented dancers,” You crouched down to their level, smiling gingerly as you took their hands in yours and encouraged them both to share the metaphorical spotlight, “We’re equally proud of you.” 

And as he sat there, watching the scene unfold, he couldn’t help but feel a dull ache in his unbeating chest at the notion that this - this - is how Beatrix should have acted when he and Reiji were children. If only she’d paid them both such diligent attention if only she’d encouraged a sibling love as opposed to the one-sided neglectful rivalry she unintentionally set up between them…

Things might have ended up being vastly different, then. 

Maybe he and Reiji could’ve been good brothers, had that occurred. Had their mother been better. 

Perhaps he should have tried harder to get through to his younger sibling, but...it felt useless to try, now.

Reiji had his stubborn opinions of him set in stone, Shu doubted he could ever change the way his brother saw him. 

So why bother? 

He told himself he was content just like this, in this evening garden with his real family, and yet a voice in his mind (his conscience, you’d once remarked) whispered poisons which echoed through his psyche; a reminder that even if they didn’t quite get along, his brothers - all of them - were family. 

“Your mother’s right,” He finally spoke, the three most beloved girls in his life looking up at him, offering the trio a slight smile. He wasn’t the biggest on words, never had been; and you never bothered him about it, knowing he preferred physical ways of showing his affection for you. Still, he tried, for you. 

Your (e/c) eyes locked with his and the look you gave him made a subtle warmth fill his being. 

“We’re proud of you,” He pressed his lips together, thinking of what else to say, “More than you know.” 

His praise cheered both girls up as they let go of their mother’s hands and spun around together, laughing as they tripped over and fell onto the soft green grass. “Daddy!” Katsumi cried out - not in agony nor sorrow, but with the utmost melodic sound of glee in her high-pitched voice, standing up - handing Rei a hand and showing her younger sister the kindness of helping her up. 

He should have done that with Reiji. 

He should have, but he didn’t. 

He didn’t. 

But now was not the time for useless melancholy - nothing could ruin this moment for him. He raised his eyebrow at Katsumi as Rei stood up, his eldest daughter sharing an unspoken agreement with her baby sister - they both nodded and ran up to him, giggling like tiny faeries which just discovered something remarkable. 

“Dance with us!” 

“Yeah! Dance with us! Please?” Suddenly, his daughters were bombarding him with their adorable pleas for him to join their evening celebration as hesitation ate away at him. He never was big on dancing, of all things; exercise wasn’t his forte, as you knew well: it was your turn to observe, standing behind the young girls, arm on your hip as your eyes glistened with mischief, wordlessly challenging him. “Hm, I don’t know-” He watched his daughters groan at his fatherly teasing. They all knew he was going to cave in; he never could refuse his girls. 

“Please!” Rei exclaimed, taking his hand and trying to pull him off the bench despite it is futile. Her sister joined in, trying to drag him onto the dewy grass to no avail. “Mama!” Rei cried out, looking over at you for assistance. 

“Come on, don’t make us beg,” You stated, your stare cutting into him, slowly you walked closer to him, holding out your hand to him as your daughters let him go, watching in awe as you addressed him, “You know you want to.” Your voice was playful and light as you tried your best not to chuckle, the situation lighthearted and blithe. 

Shu groaned, making a spectacle of it, making it falsely seem as though he didn’t want to, but you knew better. But if more convincing was what he wanted, it was what he was going to get. The three of you - Katsumi, Rei and yourself - shared a thoughtful glance and grinned at each other, all staring up at him with shining eyes as you asserted, in the most loving voices each of you could muster, “Please?”

And that was all it took for him to crumble under and shake his head as he let out a breathy chuckle, the evening wind blowing through your hair as he took your hand, raising from his seat. “Dance with mommy! Dance with mommy!” And he did. 

[anisaanisa]

InuKag Week 2021: Day 7

Homecoming on AO3. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 

Summary: Kagome contemplates married life in the feudal era.

Rating: M

Tags: Domestic Bliss / Romance / Feudal Feminism / The Unquenchable Thirst ™️

Word Count: 994

Once upon a time, Kagome would have laughed if anyone told her that sex would be at the forefront of her mind at all times. There was a battle to be won, a world to be saved, hearts to be mended. The implication would have angered her, honestly – Kagome Higurashi, protector of the Shikon Jewel – unable to keep her hands off her husband? She would have baulked at the absurdity; there were far bigger worries at stake.

Yet there she was, picking at the herbs in her hands to look busy, sneaking glances at the man she was lucky enough to call her husband. He worked the earth with the shovel they'd managed to scrounge from Sango and Miroku, his hadagi discarded elsewhere as the afternoon sun beat down on his shoulders.

And what wonderful shoulders they were.

His silver hair paled in comparison to his bronzed skin, leaving Kagome feeling hotter under the collar by the minute. It shouldn't have bothered her – it didn't – but sometimes, knowing that she would never get the chance to truly show her husband off in all his glory got to her.

Inuyasha twisted towards her then, and she looked away too slow. Her eyes caught the sweat glistening on his skin, the way the faint little hairs on his abdomen shone in the sunlight.

If only she could gawk and gaze like she wanted to.

But they were working the fields, just outside the village, for all the world to see. A world that wasn't used to women having a healthy appetite for their husbands.

She frowned and felt it, picking at the herbs in her hands with more gusto. She wasn't pruning them; she was tearing them to shreds, and before she could think to stop herself, a clawed hand appeared, grasping hers in a firm grip. "Oi."

Her breath caught when for a moment, she forgot the tenor of his voice when he took charge. Or rather, when it was aimed at her. Any air remaining in her lungs left her when she was met with the absolute vision that was Inuyasha.

His lips quirked upwards, and she frowned at the gesture, knowing that she'd been well and truly caught.

"What'cha thinking ‘bout?" he asked, digging the shovel into the dirt to lean against it. If the movement hadn't caught her eye, then maybe Kagome could have thought of a better come back.

"N-nothing," she gulped, eyes lowering to the shredded foliage in her lap.

"Mhm." He was short, as she knew he would be when she played dumb. "This doesn't have anything to do with… last night, does it?"

Her eyes locked with his, surprised because no, it didn't, but now that was all she could think about. "Actually, no. Now, however…" she trailed off, grabbing a loose leaf from her hakama.

"Now?” Inuyasha pressed, and she let the question linger, twirling the tiny speck of foliage between her fingers.

"Now… I could really use a reminder of last night.” Her eyes darted around her at the admission, even if she didn't want them to. Catching the few people hanging around a fence at the border, she knew she had the all-clear. No one around had her husband's exceptional hearing. She heard the earth shift and turned at the last second, gold and silver taking up her line of sight in a flash.

Inuyasha loomed over her, all teeth and cocky attitude that she loved to see him in. "A reminder, huh?"

Kagome squeaked a noise she was sure had never left her in her life. "Ah… y-yeah."

"And what kind of reminder are we talkin'? You want me to spell it out or give you a demonstration?"

Kagome blubbered a laugh, hand raising to cover her mouth in an instant. "Inuyasha," she scolded.

"What? No one's lookin'." He gestured toward the lack of prying eyes.

Her giggles quieted, her hand lowering to her lap. Her gaze wandered over to the stragglers gathering their tools on the far side of the field, the rest of which was empty in the beating sun. She contemplated for a moment the difference between living in his era instead of hers.

Sure, she had to keep some modicum of propriety in the eyes of the people; a Miko in training was someone to be looked up to and revered. But more than anything, she made that final leap into the well to be Inuyasha's wife, a title that she wore proudly and openly.

Kagome's eyes trailed back to him, the silhouette he painted enough to have her mind wandering to where they could take this. How did anyone do it, if not by fleeting glances and stolen kisses when no one was looking? She smiled, knowing now that, as with anything, it was about adjusting to her time here.

She threw the leaf in her grasp to the wind. "Yeah, I guess you're right." She rose from the ground slowly to make sure his eyes were still on her. "We could… call it early?"

He chuckled, and she chastised herself for fumbling in her smoothness at the last second. "Call it early? And go do what exactly?"

She moved on him then, banishing the shyness that had come with the worry of being caught.

Being caught loving her husband.

She twirled a lock of silver hair around her finger. "We could go back home? Reaffirm our marriage?"

"Reaffirm? That's a fancy way of saying we're gonna fu-" he was cut short by the small hand clamping over his mouth.

"Oh my god, okay, let's go," she laughed with him; she couldn't help it.

The shovel was left, stabbed into the dirt, the woven basket holding hand-picked herbs lay forgotten in the field. The owners of which left them abandoned, the journey back to their hut a little longer than usual, searching hands and fumbling kisses making up for lost time. But they’d get to them eventually.

There was always tomorrow.

Fin

A/N: The End! Thank you to everyone that took the time to read and left me wonderful comments/hashtags to grin at, you’re the real MVP. And HUGE thank you to @gribed-li and @fawn-eyed-girl, who took the time out of their day to look over this with me, offer advice and generally listen when I was rambling about nonsense, you guys are the best. And before this post gets away with me, there will be a Homecoming Masterpost hitting the dash soon, with an extensive list of Anisa’s headcanon meta, for those who enjoy this stuff. And thanks to @inukag-week for perpetuating my love for the adorable dummies, it’s been great 😭💖 Taglist below! 💌

ChooChoo: @inussunflower @hopidoodle @neutronstarchild @ruddcatha @fawn-eyed-girl @caribmiko @liz8080 @kalcia @thornedraven @superpixie42 @fandomobsessions016 @eringobroke @cookiethewriter @gribed-li @cannibalsforbreakfast @mamabearcat @kawaiichan67 @sacred-arrow @lavendertwilight89 @mymidnightnightmare @shadykit @hazelhalfpint​ @born-for-eachother​ LMK if you want on or off!

[tellmealovestory]

Dance With Me

Summary: You and Sam share a late night dance.

Warnings: Tipsy reader, Sam Wilson being in love, domestic fluff

It's a midnight kind of love.

Stumbling into the house, shoes in hand, drunken giggles and Sam looking down at you adoringly. A loud smack of his lips against the side of your head, an arm around your waist, fingers tickling your side and it just makes you laugh louder and harder as the screen door slams shut behind you.

The kitchen light is left on over the stove illuminating your favorite room in the house with a soft yellow glow. Window open to let in a cool breeze, it ruffles the curtains, feels like heaven on you bare arms when you step towards it. Sweet jasmine in the air and you're in love, with Sam, with the night, with the full moon that's shining down on you through window.

“One more dance before we go to bed?” He asks, stepping up behind you.

It’s a tempting offer.

One you can hardly refuse even with your sore and blistered feet screaming at you to rest them, even with your tipsy limbs telling you it’s best to get into bed, rest your body on the cool sheets that you had changed just this morning. You should go to bed. It’s late, you’re tired, dreamland is calling to you, but how can you resist just one more dance?

Nights like these are rare with Sam.

And it’s with that thought that has you turning around to face him. The room spins, but his soft brown eyes so full of love and warmth are there to steady you, to call you home. His hand rests on your hip, sly smile on his handsome face and you find yourself falling more in love with him than you thought possible.

Floor warm beneath your bare feet. The ceiling fan overhead whirls in slow circulation, but between that and the breeze it's not quite enough to cool you off on this warm summer evening.

A night out on town has left your clothes clinging to your sweat slicked body. A rhythmic and soothing tick tock, tick tock from the crookedly hung clock on the far wall fills the space between you as you consider his question.

You can’t help but to state the obvious. "There's no music."

Not that it’s ever stopped you before.

He’s a man who has no problem twirling you around the bedroom floor while you’re trying to get ready in the morning, telling you that your laugh is the soundtrack to his day. One who can sense a bad day from a mile away and will do anything to see you crack a smile even if it means burning breakfast to take you on a spin through the kitchen, dipping your body so low you swear he’s going to drop you, but he never does, he never would and when he finally sees you smile, even if it’s a tiny little thing it’s worth it for him.

"I'll sing."

Arching an eyebrow you tease, "You're gonna sing?"

A lopsided grin and he's pulling you towards him, your palms resting on his chest, a little wobbly on your feet, head a little dizzy, but it only makes him hold you tighter as his hands find purchase on your waist.

"I can sing."

But what comes out is anything but. It's off key, loudly exaggerated, words that in your state sound more like gibberish. There's a twinkle in his eyes, a laugh on his lips when you slap his chest, but when you try to tell him to please stop, please all it does is make him ask, "You said sing it louder, honey?"

"No!" You have to yell to be heard over his noise and your laughter, but it's worth it to see him smile, worth it to feel his hands hold you just a little tighter.

You struggle to get the words out as tears spring to your eyes. "All the cats in the neighborhood are gonna be at our door wondering what that awful racket is if you don't stop," you warn.

He pauses, smirks and looks down at you, pulls you a little closer when you try to wriggle out of his arms. "Oh, that's how it's gonna be?"

"Mhm."

“Thought you loved my voice?” He teases.

Oh, you do, he knows you do.

You love it when he sings to you at night, curled up on the couch together after a long day. Love it when you catch him in the morning, golden sunlight streaming through the windows, fresh from a run, high off the adrenaline, humming whatever tune is playing through the speakers of his iPod. Love it when you’re in the car together, radio tuned to whatever station is playing the best music, arm hanging out the window, hand on the steering wheel as he sings along to the songs.

For a second or two it's quiet. Peaceful. Sliding your hands from his chest up to his shoulders you loop your arms around his neck pulling him closer and inhaling the lavender fabric softener that clings to his shirt and the faint whiff of mint cologne he had spritzed himself with before leaving the house.

"One more dance," you whisper, head resting on his chest, heartbeat steady in your ear.

Sam guides you away from the window, humming softly and if he doesn't mind there's no music to properly dance to you don't mind either.

Closing your eyes you let him lead you in a slow, uneven waltz through the kitchen. Past the coffee pot, the same one you've had since college. It was old back then and it's ancient now. Sputtering to life and shaking every time you use it Sam always tells you he's going to buy you a new one for your birthday, but it's a sentimental object, one you're not ready to part with and for all his joking he's a much better gift giver than that.

He spins you out so your hip bumps against the edge of the counter, tipsy laugh falling from kiss stained lips. You'll feel that bruise in the morning, but right now all you feel is bliss as he pulls you back to him, hand on your lower back keeping you tight against him right where you belong.

Dipping his head down he presses his mouth to your ear. It starts out as a hum, something familiar tugging at your minds memories and heartstrings, but it's not until he starts singing it all comes rushing back at you like a tidal wave.

Voice soft and a little off key, but it just makes you love him more as sings the words to an old Marvin Gaye song, How sweet it is to be loved by you. He drags out the last syllables to you and it never fails to make you laugh. Takes you right back to your fifth date. Picnic in a park, tipsy on cheap red wine and too much sunshine, spread out on a checkered red and white blanket like something straight out of a romance movie. Sam crooning those same words to you you knew you had loved him then just as you love him now.

Spinning you past the table, chairs pushed in, crowded with junk mail and chipped coffee cups, catalogues for a lawn service you don't need because you would never deprive yourself of seeing him shirtless and sweaty, muscles on display in the hot summer weather cutting the grass. A race car and a few slips of off colored monopoly money stick to the floor from the last time his nephews had visited. It serves as a reminder that you should probably clean those up, but just as quickly as the thought enters your mind it flies right out when he unexpectedly dips you.

Laughter mixes together and it's the perfect accompaniment to the early morning and the mellow voice of Sam.

You treasure these moments with him when it's just the two of you, the rest of the world asleep. No one to save, no bad guys to catch and put away. Just you and Sam Wilson. Alone in the kitchen. Dancing to the music with the man of your dreams.

Tags;

@breakfast-at-kelseys​

@melchills-j​

[ri-ahhh]

good taste

Grayson puts his money where his mouth is — or maybe the other way around — after their last encounter; pt 2 to good vibes

warnings: smut, pretty much unedited sorry

***

“Are you asking me to eat you out? Because that sounds like a challenge you know I can’t refuse...”

“Maybe when I find out what your mouth can do, I’ll consider you competition for the vibrator. You need to be knocked down a peg or two, Dolan.”

It’s been three weeks since the incident on your couch between you and Grayson. Three weeks of things almost being normal, maybe with some added flairs.

Like the one day when he came over right after you had finished your Pilates workout; instead of throwing the shirt on you had discarded in the first ten minutes of the video to answer the door, you had decided opening it wearing only some tiny Nike pro shorts and a matching sports bra was perfectly acceptable. His eyes lingered knowingly, his signature smirk that oozed confidence — and subsequently made you ooze in your panties — playing at his lips.

Or that one night where all of your friends gathered at the twins’ house to have a good old movie night. You and Grayson somehow ended up together on the loveseat section of the giant cloud couch, and he convinced you to sit on the elongated cushion between his bent knees so he could try and braid your hair. It felt nice, and you didn’t really care your hair was in knots by the time his fingers started scratching up and down your back to lull you even further into bliss. You ended up reclined against his chest, slouched down with a blanket thrown over both of your legs and a giant bowl of popcorn plopped in your lap that he would reach over your shoulder to dig his hand into and playfully shove a handful of kernels into your mouth.

You remember ethan eyeing the two of you peculiarly from the opposite end of the couch, but you ignore him, because he undoubtedly knows what happened between you and his brother. You can admit that the scene of that night was more domestic and comfortable than what one would expect from two close friends who had just hooked up, but you can’t be bothered to care what other people might think about what’s going on between you and Grayson.

And then there was earlier today at the beach, where you both simply couldn’t take your eyes off each other, especially under the inconspicuous camouflage of dark sunglasses. But in a moment where you caught him with said glasses perched on his head, blatantly admiring the tiny black triangle covering you between your legs while you tan, you felt bold and confident enough to call him out on it.

“You know, you’re being a lil pervy.”

“Says the girl who’s been eye fucking me all day.”

You blushed. “Shut up.”

Grayson grinned and crawled from his towel to your own, stretching out next to you with his head propped up on his elbow. His fingers reached over and toyed with one of the ties on your bikini bottom teasingly; you bit your lip and trailed your hand up his tanned arm until you were squeezing that massive bicep appreciatively.

“It’s hard, knowing what’s underneath there now,” he said quietly, fingertips trailing then across the top of your bikini, along your lower belly.

You smiled. “It’s hard or it’s hard?”

Grayson threw his head back with his loud, signature laugh, then groaned and rolled onto his back next to you. “Both, baby. Both.”

Now, later that night, you’re at the boys’ house again, chilling on the couch watching old episodes of Parks and Rec that you’ve seen a million times already. You feel nice and relaxed, your body tired from being in sun and saltwater all day, but your mind content with how good of a day it had been.

Ethan and Kristina have already gone to bed, and Gray is in the kitchen cleaning up from dinner. You should be in there helping him, but you tell yourself you’re too comfy to get up right now.

And maybe you’re still a little on edge — vibrating, if you will — from the unresolved energy of your and Grayson’s moment on the beach.

The light shuts off behind you, and you hear his heavy footsteps make their way towards the living room.

“You look comfy,” he remarks with a grin, plopping down on the couch right next to your feet. He lifts them up and shifts over so they’re resting in his lap.

“I mean, it is a big comfy couch.”

Grayson sighs and drops his head to the back of the couch, pressing his thumb into the sole of your socked foot. “You look really pretty right now, too.”

Your heart stutters a bit, completely caught off guard. It’s a chaste and surprisingly sincere statement given the romanticism between you two so far has been purely sexual.

You should say ‘thank you’ — that’s all you have to say. But you’re an idiot, and your brain short circuits, and your first instinct is to deflect. “I’m pretty sure my nose got burned. And not in a cute way.”

“It is cute.”

You deadpan him. “And I can feel my hair frizzing by the minute because you don’t have conditioner.”

“Adorable.”

“You’re impossible.”

Grayson pretends to be offended, but the facade is broken by the smile he can’t hold back. “I’m just being honest!”

You shake your head, the corners of your lips twitching. “If you were being honest, you’d admit you’re just saying that cuz you wanna see me cum again.”

He shrugs. “Two things can be true at once, sweetheart.” His big hand starts dragging up your bare shin, and your eyes follow his touch. “I can think you’re absolutely stunning with a sunburn and smelling like my shampoo, and want to see you cum.”

He pauses, and you’re silent, until you look up at him with your lower lip caught between your teeth to find him already staring at you. The heat in his gaze makes your pussy flutter, and your eyes almost threaten to shut at the feeling... especially with his next confession.

“I want to make you cum. Me.”

A tinkling, disbelieving giggle escapes you before you can stop it. He’s unreal. “Still think you can outdo my vibrator, huh?”

Grayson winks at you — you hate how much the simple, cocky little action turns you on so much instantly. “I’ll never know until I try.”

He’s right. Desire clouds your rational reasoning, and you’re also justifiably curious. And horny. And maybe your heart is warming to him more than it should.

“Okay.” Grayson looks surprised for a fleeting second, then he’s grinning and starting to crawl over your body, but you stop him by placing the foot he had just released from his hand on his shoulder firmly. “In your room. No interruptions.”

His eyes darken, and he nods in agreement. He doesn’t get up right away, though; he watches your face intently as his hand continues it’s way up your leg, making circles on the sensitive inside of your knee. You don’t know what your expression says, but it must convey your approval, because his fingers go higher until the tips of them light upon your covered center.

The barely-there touch makes you gasp, and before you can stop yourself, your hips are hiking upwards to make the contact more direct.

As expected, Grayson smirks smugly. “You want more?”

You nod, and gasp again when he bypasses your shorts altogether now in favor of slipping his hand into your panties. You both let out tiny little groans when he touches your wet folds, his middle finger trailing up and down your slit to test out the moisture leaking from you.

“There’s one question answered,” he says lowly, grinning when he finds your clit and starts rubbing slow circles into it with the pad of his finger. “I can get you wet no problem.”

“Mmm,” you can’t help but moan, both at his touch and his words, despite the ones you speak yourself. “Stop — stop being such a... such a douchebag.”

Grayson just chuckles lowly, because he somehow knows you love it. You indulge in his touch for a few more seconds, before reach a hand down quickly to grasp his bracelet-clad wrist. “Your room, now.”

He doesn’t need telling twice. Grayson plants his feet on the ground and pulls you to stand with him, leading you by the hand down the hall to his bedroom.

You flop back on the bed and scoot up to rest your head on the pillows as you watch him lock the door before joining you in the cloud of white sheets and blankets.

He crawls to you, stopping on his knees in front of you and batting your hands away from where they’ve just gripped the waistband of your shorts to tug them down.

“I didn’t get to do it last time,” he explains roughly, his demeanor changed some now that he’s so close to getting what he wants. He’s less cool, calm, and collected and more hurried and desperate. “I wanna do it now.”

You can only lift your hips in response, nodding once he’s tossed them to the side and takes hold of your panties now. When those are gone, he groans louder than before and settles on his belly as he pushes your thighs open wider to both get a better look, and to accommodate the breadth of his shoulders.

“Fuck,” he exhales harshly, breathing in deeply in the next moment to take in the heady smell of your arousal.

He looks up at you with dark hazel eyes, and you bite your lip nervously as you wait for him to make another move.

You don’t have to wait long at all, because not even a second later he’s sucking two fingertips into his mouth, then placing them directly on your clit to pick up where he left off just a minute ago.

“You have a pretty pussy,” he says, like it’s a normal compliment to give. You flush anyways, unsure of what to say to that.

“Are you implying there are ugly pussies?”

He shrugs. “Some are just nicer to look at. And yours is just... wow.”

You blush harder, moaning when he presses a little firmer into your clit. “Thank you.”

Grayson smiles up at you. He moves away from your clit, exploring the rest of your pussy with a genuine curiosity and hunger on his face that makes you clench with every little touch and glance he gives it.

“Yeah,” he sighs, trailing the fleshy outside lightly. “Smooth.” His fingers part your lips. “Pink.” Hisnother hand squeezes one of your thighs, pushing it back and out a bit so you’re more open, allowing his middle fingertip to brush over your hole. “Fuck. And so wet.”

“Grayson, please,” you whimper, reaching out to brush your hand against his cheek and coax him to your pussy, unable to wait for him to get his mouth on you any longer.

He’s just as impatient, because he’s already halfway there by the time your hand makes contact with his stubble. You’re crying out with his rough moan at the first swipe of his tongue up your slit, your hand instantly sliding up to find purchase in his hair.

“Fuck,” he growls, pulling back to stare hard at your pussy as he spreads around the fresh rush of srousal that had just graced his tongue with his fingers once again. He dives back in, delving his tongue deep inside you before dragging it all the way up to your clit. He circles it, flicks it, suckles it a few times. “Oh fuck.”

There’s no gentleness, no sweetness, no innocent exploration in how Grayson eats your pussy for the first time — very unlike any other guy you’ve been with when they did it initially. There was always some level of hesitance or fear that they were doing something wrong, or trying too hard to figure out what you liked.

Not Grayson. Like most other aspects of his life, he’s fully confident in his abilities, and seems to just be enjoying the experience of eating you out with a voracity you’ve never been on the receiving end of before. It’s infectious, makes you want him that much more, makes you throw a leg over his shoulder and press your heel into his back while you drag him closer by the hair.

Happy to have his face completely buried in you, Grayson moans, really moans, into your center. He sucks on your clit, relishing in the curses and whines it elicits from you. He looks up at you through hooded kids while he sneaks his hands under the oversized hoodie you’re still wearing — he must feel the throb of your clit against his mouth when you simultaneously meet his eyes and he squeezes your breasts firmly, because he grins into your pussy.

“You taste so good,” he hums, more of a whisper than anything else, but with enough vibrations to make you shudder.

You cover one of his hands with your own squeezing harder and grinding into his mouth with steady, insistent thrusts against him. “Please!”

Grayson likes that. He sighs again and pinched your nipples before making sure you keep your hand there as he brings his down to wrap around your thighs. He shakes his head deeper into your folds, dipping down just enough so his lips are exploring every crevice of your pussy and leaving his nose to brush against your clit teasingly every now and then.

The noises of his mouth are almost too much. Loud and sloppy and wet as he quite literally slurps you down with every lick, suck and swallow, spitting back onto your swollen pussy a mixture of your cum and his saliva.

When he suctions his lips around your clit again and starts making those quick flicks of his tongue over it, too, you just about lose it. Your mind is in another dimension, so far gone you barely register you’re giggling because it feels so good.

“Oh my god! Holy shit!”

You’re writhing against him, unsure if you’re trying to escape or get even closer. Grayson looks up and watches your face contort and fall apart because of him, and he can’t stop grinding his own hips into the mattress for some form of relief. He’s always enjoyed this to some extent, but he can’t believe just how close he is to getting off without so much as a touch from either you or his own hand.

He grunts and moves his hands to lay firmly across your tummy, holding you down so he can get you there exactly how he wants.

And he does get you there, the pitch of your moans getting higher and higher until you’re forced into silence by the overwhelming pleasure that explodes inside of you. Your thighs tremble uncontrollably, even clenched around his head, your fists gripping wads of the sheets as you gasp out his name like a stream of consciousness.

Grayson pries your legs from around his ears and brings you down with gentle licks and touches to your skin — over your legs, your abdomen, even clutching your hand in his to help anchor you some.

It’s that strange bit of intimacy that helps ground you the most, and you’re barely coherent by the time he sits up and shifts onto his knees. You open your eyes, taking in the huge bulge in his shorts and reaching out to it without even thinking.

He mumbles your name, but you’re on a mission; even in your post-nut haze you reason it’s the least you can do after that... orgasm is too bland of a word. You want him to feel even an ounce of the pleasure he just gave you.

You fish his dick out easily, and it’s definitely not the best handjob you’ve ever given by any means, but he doesn’t seem to need much, anyways. He moves closer to you, taking your hand off him long enough to lubricate it in the slick coating your pussy. He puts you hand back on his dick for you and holds up his shirt while you work him over, until he’s grunting and moaning out, “I’m gonna cum...”

There isn’t a less messy option, but you wouldn’t mind even if there were, so you stick your tongue out and jack him off into your mouth. Grayson grips the back of your mussed hair to keep you there, groaning harshly with each spurt of his cum that lands on your proffered tongue.

You stare up at him as you squeeze out the last of what he has to give, lick your lips to catch any stray drops, then you collapse together back into the pillows. Both of your chests heave, and you stare at the ceiling together as reality starts to set in of what the two of you just did.

Like the last time, it doesn’t feel wrong. But you’re not ready to face the changes it means just yet. For now, you’re happy to snuggle into his side, and pretend things are even a little normal. Whatever that means, anyways.

“So. Was it good?”

You hum and chuckle. Your body is so heavy now, you can’t even move your head to look at him. But there’s the normalcy you wanted — Grayson looking for praise of his obvious talents.

You decide to not even try and tease him. Or bullshit him, because how could you? You think back with a clearer head to how you writhed and moaned for him, blushing at how easily he made you lose control of your inhibitions.

“Yeah, Gray, it was good. Really good.”

“Better than the vibrator?”

You yawn and smack his chest weakly. “All I’ll say is, as long as you’re around to do that, she won’t be seeing the outside of my underwear drawer.”

“Good.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “I will be. Around to do that, I mean. I loved tasting you.”

If you had any capacity to be turned on again, that might have done it, but for now it just makes your chest warm. He’s also making you think too much again.

“Can I sleep here? I can’t move.”

Whether he understands your inability to reply or not, he chuckles and kisses the top of your head. “Of course.”

You sigh gratefully. “Night, Gray.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

[ppersonna]

planning forever - myg

↳ summary-  you have special news to deliver to your husband, yoongi.  and you find your inspiration to do so in a unique way.

↳ rating- PG

↳ pairing- min yoongi x reader

↳ word count-

↳ genre- fluff, oh my god the fluff

↳ warnings- mentions of sex, some swearing, min yoongi is D A D D Y

↳ a/n- happy birthday to @carly-bean-blog​ ! my sweet angel who has been with me through nearly my entire blog life.  you’re so special to me!  myself, @chimoona​ and @sombreboy​ wanted to do something special for you.  together, we created your future ;).  we hope you enjoy your day, sweet peony!

"You forgot your lunch.”

The voice of your husband, Yoongi, chuckles lightly through the phone in an amused tone. 

“Shit,” you sigh, walking into work with arms packed full. Keys, your jacket, nametag, and an energy drink fumble in your grasp. 

“Good thing you’re married to the nicest man in the world,” he goads. You roll your eyes, but he’s right. Min Yoongi is simply the sweetest, most kind man you’ve ever met. It’s why you married him.

“Hmm,” you tease as you shove your items into your locker, “Did I marry Namjoon?”

Yoongi grunts through the phone and it forces you to laugh.  

“Not funny,” he sighs. You know he’s holding back laughter, maintaining his stoicism.

“I love you, Yoongi,” you smile. “My break is in about four hours.”

“I’ll bring it then. We can eat together.”

Your heart warms at the idea of sharing your simple sandwich and chip combo with the quiet man—the one who so easily captured your heart. You love that he’s willing to spend time during his day to sit at your boring job and eat lunch with you, all to make you happy.

“I’ll see you then.” The smile that's on your face nearly makes up for the fact that you have to suffer through a grueling eight-hour shift. Yoongi makes all the bad things in your life good. He takes those bad days and holds them tight in his arms until the bad melts away and you’re simply left with nothing but bliss.  

“I love you.” He says it so easily, so much easier than when you first met him. Yoongi’s icy demeanor quickly melted after he spent time with you. Your infectious laughter, kind heart, and easy-going attitude had the man falling fast.

“I love you too, Yoongi.”

As you press ‘end’ on the phone, one hand drops to your stomach. You rub it idly. Consciously, you know it’s early and that you’re showing no signs of growing a life inside of you, but you can’t help but smile at the tiny fluttering in your belly.

---

Work goes by slower than you’d like. You’re excited at the idea of seeing Yoongi, but four hours suddenly seems too far away.  

It’s as you’re arranging the new shipment of artisan, 100% organic cotton diapers that you’re forced to pause.

On the box of the far-too-expensive diapers, is the cutest baby model you’ve ever seen in your life.

You stare dumbly at the box for what feels like hours, unblinking as you take in the baby’s chubby cheeks and silly grin.

Maybe it’s the new pregnancy hormones coursing through your veins, or maybe this baby is sincerely so cute it’s making you cry—either way, tears slip down your face and a dumb, deliriously happy grin spreads across your face.

You’re pregnant. You’re going to have a baby with Yoongi. Maybe your baby won’t look like the tiny one on the display box, but it doesn’t matter. You’re going to have a child with the man of your dreams and you suddenly want the next eight months to go by faster.   

The only problem that remains is, well, you haven’t told your husband.

It’s not like you two meant to get pregnant. You weren’t opposed to the idea but having sex was never with an end-goal of conception in mind. Yoongi wanted kids and assured you of that before you agreed to marry him. You both knew they would come at a time that felt right, when the universe and stars aligned.

And it appeared that they had. You noticed the symptoms a few weeks ago. Missed period, a little nauseated in the mornings, increased hormones. So, during a lunch break at work, you bought a pregnancy test and scurried to the staff bathrooms, only to come out with a positive reading and a grin on your face.

It wasn’t that you were scared to tell your husband. Frankly, you were far from it. You wanted to make sure the moment was just right. The pressure of telling your husband he was about to become a father was overwhelming. You couldn’t just tell him casually, as if discussing the weather. No, you wanted something more. And you agonized for weeks about how to make it happen.

But now, standing in front of the diaper section with tears pouring from your eyes, you throw any need of extravagant celebrations aside. Seize the day—it’ll happen at lunch and there’s no use backing out now. 

The next fews hours creep by painfully. You take note of every ticking minute as it passes, practically hopping on your heels with excitement, waiting until you can pop the news. You finish stocking the nursery aisles with a happy heart and a smile on your face. You’re so engrossed in stocking shelves and running through the dialogue in your mind that you slowly lose track of time.

Hours pass and—

��_____,” Yoongi’s low voice bounces off the tall aisles behind you.

You turn on your heel and come face-to-face with the most familiar, welcoming pair of deep brown eyes. 

“Baby,” you laugh, amused at how domestic he looks with both hands full of sack lunches like a father at a soccer game half-time. 

He pulls off the look well. It reminds you why you fell in love with him in the first place. So kind and doting on those he loves most. Gosh, he’s going to make a great father. 

“I knew I’d find you here,” he says with an eye-crinkling grin. “You love this department.”

“Love? I’m assigned to this department.” You close the distance with a small peck and tug your lunch from his hand. “But I guess you can say I have a fondness for it.”

He takes a step back and reclines in a nursing glider, motioning for you to join him in a neighboring seat. 

“It’s the graveyard shift—do you think anyone will mind if we eat here?”

You look around the completely vacant store like a covert agent, then answer in a hushed tone. “For the time being, it looks like we’re off their radar. The coast is clear.”

“You’re an idiot,” he laughs, “I love you.”

“Love you too, rule breaker.”

It felt good to be bad in the most wholesome way in the most wholesome department of the entire store. Well, aside from the home decor section. Those fragrant eucalyptus candles and plush throw pillows in the shape of wild animals melts your heart to no end. 

The two of you empty your bags into your laps and make small talk about your days. While you were toiling over the display case for Jessica Alba’s latest line of gluten-free, non GMO shampoo for thin baby hair, Yoongi watered the plants and did the dishes. 

Real riveting stuff. 

No, really, there is nothing sexier than a man who takes care of the home. It only makes you want to pop the news sooner, but the sandwich clutched in your hands makes for a less glamorous prop in your otherwise fairytale picture-perfect moment.

“Oh! I also did the laundry and folded it the way you like.”

“Bunched up and tossed in the drawer?”

He winks and points his finger at you. “That’s my girl—nothing gets past her.”

“Nothing does, nothing does…” You stare off blankly at the display behind Yoongi and notice a package of diapers is slightly askew. You begin to make a mental note to fix it later, but are abruptly snapped from your thoughts at Yoongi’s words—

“Nothing gets past me either, ______.” He sighs and reclines, belly full of sandwich. He closes his eyes and rests his head against clasped hands. “I know you’ve been keeping a secret from me, I can sense it like a bloodhound.” 

With that, you pop the rest of the sandwich into your mouth and chew quickly. It seems the moment to savor has quickly evaporated and it was time to come clean.

“I wanted to tell you sooner, but—”

“—You got me that Pioneer DJ System for my birthday. I knew it! When I saw a purchase on our credit card for $500, I knew I caught you red-handed,” He looks at you for confirmation and assumes he’s right based on the reddish hue of your cheeks. 

“You’re the idiot,” you snicker, nervously biting your lip between your teeth. “That wasn’t a DJ System, that was a crib.”

He holds up his finger in an AH-HA moment of victory, but pauses mid-celebration and looks at you with a crooked smile. “C-crib?”

“I’m pregnant, Yoongi.” 

You can’t keep the butterflies from fluttering, seeing his face slowly shift from slightly amused to tear-dabbed and nearly shaking. 

“You’re...you mean...we’re…” He stands from his seat and takes a knee beside you on your rocker and places his hand gently on your stomach. 

“Yes,” you confirm through a strained voice, edging back tears of your own. “We’re having a baby.”

“This is, I mean,” He stammers and verbally struggles to come up with the right words to say that properly shows the multitude of emotions coursing through his body.

“Are you happy?” You ask despite the answer being written plainly on his face. 

Of course he’s happy. It’s the happiest moment of his life and it’s all happening under the watchful gaze of a Peppa Pig cardboard cutout. 

“Beyond,” he confirms, stroking your belly gently as if you were made of glass. “And excited, and scared.” 

“Me too.”

“But mostly happy.” He strokes his hand through your hair and curls the loose strands behind your ear to place a soft kiss on your cheek. “God, I can’t wait to spend forever with you two.”

“Already? You haven’t even met the kid. What if he/she is a brat?”

“Too late, I love them already.”

You lean forward and kiss your husband, capturing his plush lips with your own. It’s warm and soft and reminds you of home. 

“I love you,” you whisper, lips still touching his. 

“I love you too,” he smiles, “Forever.”