#very gentle. very tender 💕

[halfaasleep]

from Songs | half•alive

[screampied]

if requests are open, can we see nanami x breeding kink? i know he would be the perfect daddy 💕

❤︎ ໋𓈒 husband nanami finding out he has a breeding kink.

warnings. fem! reader, mating press, breeding kink, praise, soft dom nanami, mdni.

breeding.

he wouldn’t even know he had such a kink until afterwards, finishing inside of you for about the third time with hot puffs of air running from his lips.

his eyes, dark brown pools that intently stared into yours, he’s in utter love with you and only you. your current position was supine—your legs would be perfectly sprawled and spread for him. mating press, such a deep and thorough angle. so deep to where you were practically seeing stars.

“… you drive me crazy, you know that?” he’d huff out lowly between rough breaths. you stare at him with glossy eyes, a hand softly clinging onto his wrist. he was always so gentle, deep yet precise strokes to make you feel every inch. such eyebrows of his curl up and furrow as he intakes a single sharp breath, the feeling of such thick ropes spewing inside your walls makes him groan. “always s—so good at milking me.”

sloppy hips thwack and drill into you, and that’s when he leans right up close to you—you’re met with lust filled fawn eyes and a needy smile.

“ah. eyes up here, wanna see that pretty face,” and his tempo was so unhinged. you glance up at him and he mutters off a soft, “hi my love,” and you could have just melted right there. nanami lightly presses a hand against your tummy, a thumb swiftly tracing near the exact spot where he was reaching you inside. so full, you moan before he leans in to kiss you, yet instead, he conceals his own whine into the crook of your neck. “this—tummy would look so pretty if it was nice ‘n round for me like last time.”

the very corners of your lips tugs, it outlines into a sweet pout before you whimper, “make me fuller then, kento,” you’d heave out. he was jackhammering such merciless yet tenderly passionate thrusts into your cunt, effortlessly smacking back against you. “wanna f-feel fuller.”

you had the white bed sheets bawl into the palms of your hands. everything felt so warm, his hips just continued to rotate and jerk and jerk and jerk. it was hypnotic, he knew just where to prod the head of his cock right against you.

you’re nearly drooling. just imagining such lengthy ropes of his pump you full. you wanted it, no—you needed it. desperately, you were practically being fucked into the mattress—the mattress in question creaked and sang in such harmony it was hard not to ignore its sounds.

the entire feeling, you were clamping down on him so tight that his jaw tenses. a simple sight like that was oh so sexy in the slightest, nanami lightly bites down on his lip. a cute flushed expression slowly painting over his face once he catches you still staring. he was chasing his own breath, giving you slow yet perfect full vivacious thrusts.

“k-kento,” you’d moan with a slight gasp, he brings a hand to slide your arms all the way up. it’s almost teasing, the way he makes you hold your hands high, a soft simper rests against his lips the entire time. your legs quaver, feeling how easy it was for him to stretch you out. his touch, it was blisteringly hot, blisteringly tender.

he made sure to delicately trace his fingers all over your skin. he wouldn’t dare miss a spot. not with a body as perfect as yours. that’s what he saw in his eyes anyway. “so—so goooood, don’t s-stop baby.”

“wasn’t gonna,” he huffs out, and his voice was so raspy and rich. a subtle coarse of baritone hidden underneath his deep tone. you peer up at him and he leans in to kiss the tip of your nose. “if my princess wants to feel more full, i’ll do just that. give her anything she wants.”

you whimper, feeling him hit such a sensitive angle, he hit it just right too.

the crown of his dick made its way through every crevice of your walls. he reached in spots that you didn’t think he’d reach — not at all, you failed to hide your moans by this point and he thought you sounded so cute. knowing he was the one to make you sound like this, feel this way, it made him happy. that’s all he wanted, your pleasure was his pleasure.

every. single. spot.

whilst your toes curled, you feel your back start to seemingly arch on its own before even more sweetened whimpers fly past your sheeny lips. “give m-me,” you started to speak. he raises a brow marginally, brushing a thumb against your lower lip before feeling himself about to bottom out. at that point, he was fully inside, you felt it and you only mewled out a candied, “give me another baby kento. please.”

“oh,” he softly murmurs, and his tongue playfully licks against your neck—a sweet lap, he savored your taste before teasingly starting to nibble.

“gonna give you triplets this time,” and he brings a hand down your chest, then towards your stomach, real slow. you moan once he gingerly lifts up your leg before giving your ankle a kiss. “this what you want, sweetheart? more of this? more of … me?”

“yes,” you pout, feeling your cunt just swallowing his hefty shack, his base smacks back and forth against you to where you’re almost giddy. you felt like you were on cloud nine, nanami’s strokes, his thrusts hell, his enticing rhythm had you nearly speechless. you let off a soft meek once the shivering cold metal of his watch band slithers against your skin.

the more he touched you, the more close you became to making yet another mess on him. of course, like the good husband he was, nanami would happily clean you up.

“y-yes, kento,” you repeat in a honeyed voice, by this point, your legs were well wrapped around his waist. fully having him in a secure lock, not ever thinking to let go, you couldn’t nor did you want to. he drove into your gummy walls so good that you let off the sugared most melodic moans right up against his earlobe. “want…..another baby.”

“i know you do,” he hushes, bringing a chaste kiss towards your collarbone. you swallow a thick imaginary lump that grew into your throat. only tiny squeaks would come out — you moaned, tightening your legs hold around him before you started to picture such fanciful things.

fanciful things like nanami pouring yet another a thick load into you, and as you’re deep in thought he’s doing just that. a gasp gets caught in his lips before he leans up close to you. his broad chest presses up against you before he groans. out of all the notorious enemies he’s had to fight, he was simply no match for your pussy. its grip had him being the one with his eyes nearly rolling back.

“f-fuck,” and you felt yourself throb, making direct eye contact with him. it was rare, yet hearing nanami swear was so infrequent.

it was the way he swore, spewing out such filthy words underneath his breath. long ruffled strands of messy hair nearly occluding his view of vision. he reaches to move some of his hair away from his face, just so he could get a good glimpse of you—a good glimpse of his wife.

“look at me,” he says in a soft tone, he was buried so deep within you, you saw how his muscles tensed and his jaw tightened. he made his hips come to a halt completely before he leans in to gift you with another kiss. “mwah,” he smooches near your jawline, “mwah,” near your chin, and a final kiss near your lips.

your heart, it fluttered.

nanami felt warm all over his body, as well as the sheer warmth that coated him from being inside you. “i—i love you,” you’d whine, feeling such massive velvet ropes of cum going all inside of you. he merely lets off a purr at the way the back of your heel skims down his back. “so much.”

“i love you,” he returns it. his mouth briefly opens, and he was about to say ‘more’ but he pauses. nanami’s weight was still hovering over you before he brings a same big hand down towards your tummy. “now, we wait. you’re such a good mommy for me, sweetheart.”

[gtgbabie0]

-Sevika x Reader

Synopsis: {A slow and tender night with your girlfriend Sevika after a stressful week}

For my other works my Masterlist is here <3

Enjoy my lovelies 💕

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾

Sevika was never much of a paperwork type of woman. In the past, it was all knuckles, bared teeth, and fight talk—but now? Now, it was all papers, politics, and polite spoken words. Well, she was still working on that last part.

Truthfully, she didn’t mind it. No matter how many times she would roll her eyes and scoff in these council meetings, she preferred them much more than the jobs she used to work—especially when she got to come home to such a pretty sight.

Her sweet lady, the light of her life… you.

You followed her around like a lost puppy in the first couple of days, her ‘assistant’ they said, sent to show her around and to make sure she knew the ins and outs of being a councilwoman. It was annoying, to begin with, you were all bright smiles and starry-eyed full of hope, so soft and sweet, a pain in her ass, she called you.

Then Sevika found herself dreaming of you, thinking of you when the councillors argued amongst themselves endlessly—the shape of your lips, the colour of your eyes—and she fell quickly, completely hook, line and sinker.

Now you were her favourite part of her days and on a day like today, she really needed you. This week had been shit to put it kindly, really fucking shit.

Sevika walks through your shared bedroom, her brows knitted together as she shrugs off her blazer with a huff before hanging it up— her eyes immediately softening when they fall upon you, sitting oh so prettily at your vanity which she had put together for you.

“How was it?” You ask, glancing over at her through the reflection of the mirror— the warm light of the lamp dusting over your face.

At the sound of your voice, she sighs, somewhere in between relief and frustration. “Hard.”

“Ah, the joys of the council I suppose.” You reply, swiping your index finger into a glass jar to collect the cream before applying it evenly to your face. “It’ll get worse before it gets better.” You add, rubbing the moisturiser into your skin.

She never really understood why you had so many expensive oils and creams, they all did the same thing if you ask her— but she loved watching your little routine, even helping you on occasions as an excuse to get her hands on you, not that she really needed one.

"You're making it sound as if this isn't hell already," she mutters, her voice twinged with humour. She walks over to where you’re sitting— her fingers gently curling underneath your jaw to tilt your head backwards slightly.

“Maybe you just need some pampering?” Your playful words are spoken through a breathy giggle that bubbles up out of you and Sevika would be lying if she said the sound didn’t make her heart sing with a warmth that bleeds through her chest.

It was a very enticing idea, after all, you were the one with all the sweet-scented, fancy and quite frankly overpriced face creams… besides she couldn’t deny you, ever.

“I don’t think I get a say do I?” She tries her best to act deadpanned but the smirk that ghosts against her lips betrays her completely.

“Nope.” With that you’re standing up from your vanity, her hand drops from your face to rest over the curve of your hip as you collect the coloured jars before walking over to the bed with a soft, “Come on, I promise you’ll sleep better.”

Sevika soon finds herself sitting up against the headboard of the bed, a pillow pressed behind her back as you straddle her thighs— this is just what she needed after a long week, to have you pressed up against her like this.

“You already looked relaxed,” you note, letting your eyes rove across her face— her brows unfurled and her eyes full of tenderness, the same tenderness she has in her touch as she rubs your hip soothingly.

“Course I am, got you in my lap.” Her usual gruff tone is a lot more gentle, a hint of smugness in her voice as relishes in the sight of you— the plushness of your thighs pressed against either side of her own, the way your pyjamas fit against your soft curves. She’s a lucky woman to have you all to herself.

A small amused hum passes your lips as you busy yourself with opening the moisture, trying to ignore the way her thumb brushes along your hipbone— although your attempts are pointless because she can read you like an open book and her touch always renders you completely breathless.

You swipe a small amount of face cream on the tip of your finger before applying it to Sevika’s face— brushing your fingertips over her cheeks and along her jaw in a way that has her melting into your hards, her eyes fluttering close as she makes a noise of contentment.

Sevika swears your hands are magic, they have to be, there’s no other reason as to how they have the power to completely unravel her, no it must be magic.

“It smells like you.” She whispers, leaning into the palm of your hand as your thumb caresses her cheek.

“Mm, it’s my favourite one… I use it all the time.” To your words she hums in acknowledgment, a knowing look crossing her face as her lips quirk up into a smile. She knows it’s your favourite, it has been before she ever walked into your life and it’s become so distinctively you— something that made her strangely feel at home.

And right here, with you… is her home, without a single shadow of a doubt.

Her skin feels like silk beneath your fingertips as you continue to trace mindless patterns along the contours of her face, her eyes watching you with an almost reverent look in them.

“C’mere pretty girl,” Sevika mumbles, cupping your jaw in her hand before drawing you closer to her slowly until your lips meet in a tender kiss— your hands instinctively resting against her shoulders as her own falls back to your hip.

Your body relaxes into hers, the familiar taste of her lips that you have been starved of all day brings a sense of comfort and you reciprocate the kiss just as lovingly almost needily— letting your fingertips brush through the hairs on the nape of her neck, a feeling that makes her groan softly.

“Are you feeling more relaxed now?” You ask in between kisses that begin to taper off slowly as she brushes her lips along your warm cheek— smiling into your soft skin, taking in the sweet scent of vanilla that clings to you, gods you might just be the death of her.

“Mhm, thank you, angel,” Sevika responds, genuine gratitude dripping from her tone as her hand squeezes your hip, pulling you a little closer to her before rubbing your back soothingly— the warmth of her embrace wraps around you like a blanket, one you never want to shed yourself off.

“My pleasure, as always.” You reply, face buried into the crook of her shoulder causing your words to be slightly muffled as she holds you just a little tighter, your presence grounding her and as you nuzzle yourself further into her neck it really hits her, just how much she has missed you— Sevika really needs to find the time to fit herself into your nightly routines more often.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾

[anika-ann]

Thirst for Life (As It Is) - S.R.

Type: one-shot, established relationship, next-to-zero plot

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word Count: 3,7k

Summary: You loved him for it; you hated it. You were still coming to terms with it, still learning to accept and believe that he damn-well meant it when he said he would always fight tooth and nail to come back to you.

You’d count your blessings; you celebrated his efforts by being the very home he was to you to him and if you could sooth his pain in any way you knew, as a physical therapist, as his lover, as a human being, you would.

A slice of life kind of fic, a moment of love life of Steve Rogers and his beloved.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, fingering, oral (F rec), allusions to penetrative sex, brief mention of canon typical injuries, briefest allusions to angst, FLUFF, dorks in love

A/N: Super belated entry for Stevie BB 200 Followers Celebration Writing Challenge hosted by @steviebbboi. Thank you for hosting and congrats again💕 I got inspired by the prompt Aw, does it feel good right here?🤭

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @saradika-graphics; enjoy y'all 🥰

Lips pressing to heated skin; to entice, to sooth the burning.

Fingertips dancing over strained muscles. Body arching into the touch.

A silent blissful keen escaping.

A sinful whisper.

“Aww, is that the spot, love? Does it feel good right there?"

A blatant, wicked tease, rewarded by a breathless curse spilling from parted lips, a soundless complaint.

Unable to help yourself, you giggled, kissing the spot again, earning a grunt – a sound of protest and approval alike.

“Just you wait…” Steve muttered, annoyed and somewhat fond at once, groaning when you pressed with your fingers this time, feeling the tight knot right under his right shoulder blade as if growing thicker to rebel against your care. “And this isn’t funny.”

You licked your lips, biting back to fight another laugh and losing anyway.

“Come on, Steve… it’s a little funny.”

It was a little funny.

Steve Rogers, a mighty supersoldier, all muscle and broadness, filling the space of the large bed. A paragon of strength and justice, shoulders wide enough to carry the weight of the world, his heart a shield for those who needed protection, his shield the heart of the Avengers. A seemingly fearless leader, a strategic mastermind, an excellent fighter; the embodiment of masculinity and power and righteousness and love.

All that and more – brought to its knees by a pulled muscle.

Of course, if it were up to Steve only, he would not even let this slow him down, not in the slightest, let alone bring him down his knees. Oh no.

It was your gentle offer; a soft touch of a hand, a sweet promise, a confession and a plea on your lips.  

“Let me help, love.”

A gaze of mutual affection exchanged; a kiss to his lips to seal the deal with tenderness you knew your might have to abandon if you wanted to help set his body right.

It was a little funny.

The huge hunk of supersoldier muscle, turned into a puddle of a man under your touch. You treated him with as much skill as you would any other client or a patient of yours, if perhaps with a little softer care and with considerably less professionalism.

Obviously, Steve was not your usual client or patient; Steve Rogers was infinitely much more to you. The love radiating from the depth of your heart turned tangible in his proximity; undeniably present in your touch, be it your hands or your lips trying to sooth the pain, be it you straddling his hips which seemed almost absurdly narrow in comparison of the enormity of his shoulders, be it your words of affection or gentle teasing.

Obviously, Steve was not your usual client or patient; most of those who came in specifically with a pulled muscle were there because they had been helping a friend moving furniture, overestimated themselves in a gym, or snapped their head to the side too fast.

Your boyfriend of almost one year, on the other hand, had pulled a muscle when lifting a goddamn car off of someone to whose rescue he had rushed to.

Pressing against the knot, gently but firmly enough to make Steve groan – a sound of complaint bleeding into one of gratitude as you gradually released the pressure – you allowed the piece of information about him having practically lifted a car wash over you again, the astonishment at absurdity and curiosity of life fresh as if it was something entirely new to you.

But it wasn’t. It most definitely wasn’t the first time you had been confronted with this part of who Steve was. It wasn’t the first time you were confronted with how much the serum had enhanced his strength and possibly stubbornness, with what he did for living and how, or with the insistent calling in his very soul to help and serve and be nothing but a profoundly good man. It was hardly the first time and yet you guessed it would never cease to amaze you.

His good heart and his kind soul. His brilliant mind and his incredible body. A man all strong and resilient, but not invincible, not unbreakable.

And perhaps that was where the laugh was coming from – the reason why you couldn’t quite help yourself but tease him, why you couldn’t quite stop giggling.

The relief.

Because Steve Rogers – one of the greatest heroes of your time and the past alike – coming back home with only a pulled muscle was nothing short of a miracle, and this was how your strained body and mind expressed the utter, overwhelming relief coursing your veins.

Because Steve came home. Home to you.

Another day, another save.

Another day he could have caught a knife to his gut or to his neck. Another day he could have caught a bullet an inch from his heart or straight through. Another day he could have been taken and tortured for information or for the twisted fun of hurting Captain America.

None of that had happened.

Instead, it was another day Steve came home to you in one piece. Even if tired and with a pulled muscle.

You’d count your blessings, over and over, more so since you knew how and why he had pulled that muscle; gold of heart and dumb of ass, he couldn’t have waited for someone to come help him, not when the man who had been pinned under a damn car was so clearly and understandably in pain.

Steve’s mind was a brilliant thing, coming up with impenetrable strategies, with a plan B for the plan B and with a plan C and D just in case, carefully predicting outcomes and calculating risks; sometimes he just got bad at math when calculating risks for himself when he couldn’t bear seeing others suffer.

You loved him for it; you hated it. You were still coming to terms with it, still learning to accept and believe that he damn-well meant it when he said he would always fight tooth and nail to come back to you.

You’d count your blessings; you celebrated his efforts by being the very home he was to you to him and if you could sooth his pain in any way you knew, as a physical therapist, as his lover, as a human being, you would.

And he’d let you, even if the first time you had met had certainly not been the case. Not with him having been dragged in, after having his knee busted in a fight, arguing that he did not need anyone’s help, because he was enhanced by the supersoldier serum and his body had always healed on its own. You wouldn’t have it; you had met all the unwilling patients and sceptics. So you took one glance at the man who had literally dragged him in – his best friend, Bucky Barnes, seemingly more exhausted by his attitude than by the fact he had been carrying a significant weight of the huge pile of muscle Steve Rogers was – and then took another look at the man behind the shield himself, before you listed all the muscles, tendons and bones that would have begged him to differ in reaction to such claim.

To this day, you were not quite sure whether it had been your knowledge or your ability to simply not have his attitude that had impressed him more, but later you would find out his attitude was more about him feeling like others needed your help more than him and less about him questioning your field or expertise. That had mattered to you; what mattered also was that Bucky was never going to let you or Steve live your so-called meet-cute down, claiming he knew right away Steve had fallen in love the very second.

So you’d count your blessing and you’d let yourself feel whatever came, and you’d let yourself be consumed by the love with gratitude and thirst for life as it was.

You let yourself laugh again even as Steve grumbled under you, muttering something about maybe deserving it. You appreciated the self-awareness. You appreciated him.

You smiled as you let your hands roam with purpose, warm touch mapping out his pains and still taking moments to caress and indulge in exploring his body, cherishing the beautiful view of the expanse of his back and the feel of his strength yielding to your care with endless trust.

“I feel a little less treated and little more objectified at this point,” he muttered, a smile evident in his voice even before your gaze flickered to his face, now turned to side as he rested his cheek on the back of his hand.

One corner of your lips rose higher, barely a flicker of shame in your chest. You’d never violate a patient or a client like that; but you’d also never miss a chance to feel closer to Steve, miss a chance to touch him, to cherish the contact and to make him feel loved.

“Is there a complaint you’d like to submit, sir?” you questioned, a wide smile setting on your lips as he hummed in disapproval.

Still, you finished the treatment with a last few strokes that were indeed more of a gentle closing than anything else, climbed off of him and pulled the blanket over his naked back to keep the muscles warm.    

He blinked his eyes open as you sat by his side on the bed, leaning in to kiss his forehead.

The second he reached out his hand to hold you, you clicked your tongue disapprovingly, making him huff but obediently stop his progress.

“You know the rules, Steve. Stay still for a bit, let the body process. I’ll bring you some fluids.”

He sighed, squinting at you with adorable defiance. “I do know… I don’t have like it. Maybe just a minor complaint then.”

You grinned, leaning closer to him on the pillow, feeling your heart tremble in thorough warmth as he observed you with sleepy intent and a look closest to adoration you had ever seen.

“What’s that, Captain Rogers?” you whispered conspiratorially.

“I’m supposed to be taking care of you.”

You relaxed into the mattress, shoulders slumping, heart a second from melting as the lightest and most delightful feeling spread through your veins, a rush so powerful it almost chased tears into your eyes.

To care and be cared for; to love and be loved, so utterly you had never believed it possible until you met Steve Rogers, most certainly the love of your life.

Reaching out, your fingertips lightly caressed his cheek, his eyelids slipping shut; you brushed over the arches of his brows, over the slope of his nose, over his lips – instantly pursing for a light kiss to your fingers – and caressed his scalp, only to meet his gaze again, so tender you felt something inside your soul shift and shudder in pure happiness.

“I know you will when I need it,” you assured him, bringing a ghost of a smile to his face. “And I’m pretty sure that’s the idea. That we’re supposed to be taking care of each other, love.”

A sparkle lit up his tired eyes, his smile turning positively goofy.

“I like that,” he whispered.

“Good,” you said, pressing another kiss to his forehead and climbing to your feet. “Now be a good patient and stay still for a bit, just like everyone else… no matter how special you are to me.”

“Mmm, if you say so… I love you.”

You fought the urge to lie next to him, reminding yourself that if you got him fluids now, you could lie with him and bask in his warmth later and with no interruptions.

“I love you too, Steve.”

By the time you got back, hands clean of the essential oil and full with a mug of tea and a tall glass of water, you found him fast asleep, still on his front, arms hugging his pillow.

Not bothering to fight off your smile this time, you set the mug on the nightstand, tucked the blanket higher to his chin and climbed up to the bed to sit and prop up on the headboard.

You reached for the engagement ring you had taken off for the massage first and put it back where it belonged, and only then for your half-read book, gaze once more flickering to man who had stolen your heart and would never give it back.

Attention divided, you read; but mainly you kept your future husband company, watching over his peaceful and more than deserved sleep.

Because that was what you were supposed to do; watch over each other, look out for one another, and take care of each other.

And in a few months, you’d promise to continue doing that with love for the rest of your lives, swearing so in front of your friends and families.

Lips pressing to heated skin; to entice, to sooth the burning.

Fingertips dancing over strained muscles. Body arching into the touch.

A silent blissful keen escaping.

A sinful whisper.

“Aww, is that the spot, love?” he teased, every syllable dripping off his lips rich and heady like honey, and even with your eyes fluttered shut, you could see his beautifully wicked smile, the spark in his eyes that shone dark, lit alive in a way that was reserved for you; and only for you. “Does it feel good right there?"

You recognized the echo of your own words, Steve’s voice coloured with sweet vindication. He knew exactly what he was doing and he revelled in it; you would protest and complained again if your lips remembered how to speak beyond Steve’s name and breathless pleas. You would protest if you truly wanted to and he would stop in an instant. You would protest if your hands were not literally tied.

Again, unlike your other patients, all Steve had needed was your skilled touch and a good rest. A few hours of sleep, Erskine’s serum working its magic and he had been good to go; perhaps not for another mission, not for a training session, but for repaying your service with love and adoration and desire.

Hugging your middle after waking up, resting his head over your thigh, he had sent a single glance up at you and you had very well forgotten what you had been reading.

He had kissed your palms in thank you, one and then the other, lingering with his gaze and his lips, and you had already been forgetting your own name.

He had pressed a kiss to your wrists, wrapping them in satin like a precious gift, smiling as he had to ruck up the sleeves of his very shirt you had chosen to wear to bed to do so.

He had ghosted his lips over your fingertips as he tied your wrists to the headboard, making sure you rested your hands, the most important asset for your work; conveniently putting your engagement ring on display for him to see at all times while doing so.

He had met your lips in a kiss so sultry you barely caught your breath, before they strayed over every inch of newly revealed skin as he unbuttoned the shirt, lingering in all his and your favourite places, hands roaming, caressing, holding, owning.

You arched against his mouth when he reached his prize, forearm draping over your middle, keeping you grounded as he lifted you towards the stars once, almost for the second time, until his fingers joined to show off his own talented touch and to bring you to the brink of madness.

“Did not quite catch that, sweetheart,” he muttered to the burning skin of your inner thigh, rendering you speechless with his tongue before you could catch your wits and answer. “I suppose I should try again…”

“Steve-“

“Right here, love… give me one more. Let me take care of you… you said you knew I would take care of you when you’d need it, didn’t you? Do you need it now, love?”

Steven Grant Rogers, you little shit- was the thought that flew through your head so fast you couldn’t hope to catch it let alone verbalize it. Not with how your head was beginning to spin when his lips, his hands, his wicked tongue and seemingly innocent filthy talk carried by his deep voice overwhelmed your senses and chased you higher and closer to your peak with every passing torturous second.

“Yes-“ was what actually spilled from your lips breathily, followed by a keen of please.

“Then be good and stay still.”

Steve’s dark mischievous gaze met yours, the erotic sight of him between your legs, wide shoulders barely fitting, with his palm sprawled to your belly and seemingly enjoying himself thoroughly was your undoing, along with things he did and you could not hope to put into words; not when your vision whited out with a cry of his name and wave of numbing bliss washing over you and pulling you under.

You were trying to catch your breath as he let you ride out your high, firm, wet languid kisses pressed to your thighs, your stomach, your breasts with just a graze of teeth to both increase your pleasure and to satisfy the man who loved to get lost in exploring your body and consuming you whole.

When his lips finally met yours again, you did not care you still hadn’t quite earned enough oxygen, whimpering against the demanding kiss as Steve’s fingers curled just to press at the spot again, while he casually rested his weight on his elbow, left hand interlacing his fingers with yours to feel the ring he had slipped on your finger just a few weeks ago.

“Love you so much, sweetheart. Love seeing you like this, so beautiful, so blissed out and so, so mine…” he whispered, voice hoarse as if he had been the one to crying out in ecstasy.

“I love you too, Steve.”

Instinctively moving to touch him, to keep him closer, you tugged at the soft fabric around your wrists, huffing in frustration when all you could do was squeeze Steve’s hand tighter.

“Hands, love?” you pleaded, arching your body against his, hovering too high for your taste even when your bare chest brushed his, your body drinking hungrily the heat which his own was radiating. “Want to touch you.”

“Anything for you, love.”

As thoroughly distracting as his lips were, pressing back to yours as he blindly loosened the knots, your hands sprang the moment you were free, sighing as the utter delight at holding onto your lover flooded every cell of your body, fingers raking through his hair, digging into his back to pull his closer to your embrace.

His lips eased the pressure, nose bumping yours, fingertips brushing your cheek tenderly, his smile as sweet as sinful, and when you blinked your eyes open, you couldn’t but bask in the blinding light of adoration shining in Steve’s blown pupils.

“You alright, sweetheart? Can you take more?”

The question nor the concern were new; yet they tasted as lovely as Steve’s smile when he leaned in to kiss you again.

You ran your hand down the lovely expanse of his back, pressing to meet his hardness, a wordless agreement.

“Yes, just… be careful.”

Steve’s lips parted from yours with a wet pop, genuine worry instantly overtaking his features, his weight easing from your body – almost making you regret what you were about to say when he’d inevitably ask-

“Are you hurting? Did I do anything-“

“I’m fine, Stevie…” you assured him, brushing a lose strand away from his forehead, smoothening the crease that formed there, your wildly pounding heart shivering from his tender care for you, his consideration, his willingness to walk away from chasing his own pleasure and just hold you should you wish so for whatever reason.

You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, his frown only deepening with disapproval as he probably thought you were about to downplay whatever it was that bothered you, what he had done to hurt you or was causing you pain – like Mr. Hypocrite, your softest, biggest love.

“No need to worry, Steve. I just want you to be careful, you know… you might pull a muscle and need medical and fluids after.”

A beat of silence, bated breaths.

And then you were bursting out with laughter at Steve’s scandalized expression, the sound blending into a yelp as he grabbed you by the hips and lifted you to the air. He stood up in a whirlwind of a movement, spinning you until your back hit the wall, blow softened by his palm while his other moved under your bottom, fingers digging to your flesh, pinning you to the hard surface by his hips, his chest, and mainly by his lips crashing against yours, stealing the laughter from you very lungs, drinking your love from the very bottom of your heart.

He nipped at your bottom lip, hips bucking against yours, his voice a sultry promise you couldn’t wait for him to make good on; for all the teasing, you knew that indeed, your Steve would have caring for you at the forefront of his mind. You could feel his love undeniably present in his touch, be it his hands or his lips, be it his words of affection or the gentle, exhilarating threats:

“Oh just you wait, love… we’ll see who’ll need what after I’m done with you… I was so well-taken care of by my future wife, I think I want to start training for our wedding night. And sweetheart,” he whispered, warm breath brushing your ear, “I think it’s time we try to push our record to double digits.”

As a shudder ran down your spine like a livewire, your heart jumping to your throat with how your blissed-out mind scrambled to try to imagine that, you let your body sink into his, counted your blessing, and let yourself feel whatever was about to come.

You let yourself be consumed by love with gratitude and thirst for life as it was.

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider leaving feedback.

May November be kind to you💕

[etrsilk]

Please can we get a main 4 x reader during ovulation? It's coming up and I'm literally like a feral beast 😭 also I love your writings so far 💕💕

₊✩‧₊˚ ᡣ𐭩 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 ⇝ ��𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐝

˗ˏˋ ➛ 𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙡𝙪𝙙𝙚𝙨: 𝘒𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘢,𝘎𝘰𝘯,𝘒𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘪𝘬𝘢,𝘓𝘦𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘰

˗ˏˋ ➛ 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 — ✘

˗ˏˋ ➛ 𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙧𝙚 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧

⎝ 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚:: I love this request so much!! also sorry, it’s quite short 😭 and thank you very much <3💕

 —𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐔𝐀ꫂ ၴႅၴ

➘ Killua would be a bit embarrassed; it’s not that it was really a taboo subject for him, but rather that among the many blood-related topics discussed, this one wasn’t the most frequent (lmao)

➘ If you tend to have very painful periods, he would probably do his best to be as attentive and caring as possible. If your periods aren’t very painful, he would allow himself to tease you and be a bit playful, but nothing too harsh… he’s just trying to lift your spirits in his own way!

➘ In reality, he worries a bit and tries to be as comforting, patient, and empathetic as possible, although he can be a bit clumsy

➘ he would act a bit like in this headcanon, He would act a bit like in these headcanons, trying to take care of you as he would with a sick reader, with lots of tenderness and attention !

 —𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐈𝐊𝐀ꫂ ၴႅၴ

➘ He would be absolutely the best. You wouldn’t even need to tell him what you need; he would already show up with a prepared hot water bottle, the necessary medication, and your favorite snacks.

➘ He would feel really sorry for you if you had painful periods and would do everything he could to ease your discomfort. He’d offer massages, keep you company, and find ways to distract you to make you feel better.

➘ He would also be incredibly cuddly, showering you with tenderness and affection. He would make sure you exert as little effort as possible and get plenty of rest. He’d take care of you by serving you everything you need and handling the small tasks so you can relax.

➘ Regarding your mood, he would try to be as tolerant and patient as possible. He’d always give you the benefit of the doubt to avoid arguments and support you in every difficult moment. He would do everything to make you feel loved and understood, even during the most uncomfortable times.

 —𝐆𝐎𝐍ꫂ ၴႅၴ

➘ Despite growing up surrounded by women, he knows very little about it… He barely understands what it is. I see Mito as a rather “conservative” person, and his grandmother simply never had the chance to discuss this topic with him.

➘ Even so, I don’t think he would be particularly embarrassed when you talk about it! It’s just frustrating because he doesn’t know much and therefore doesn’t really know how to help you or what you might be going through. But fortunately, his savior was there to explain everything and give him advice…

➘ LEORIO!!

➘ He would try to be as attentive, caring, and gentle with you as possible. He would frequently ask if you’re okay and would bring you hot water bottles or medication on his own initiative.

➘ he would act a bit like in this headcanon, he would try to comfort you and distract you by planning movie nights or fun activities like that!

 —𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐎ꫂ ၴႅၴ

➘ Leorio would know you’re going to have your period even before you do.

➘ As a doctor, he is VERY knowledgeable and would do everything possible to relieve your menstrual pain with all the existing methods available. He would give you massages and use innovative, and maybe even a bit surprising, techniques to help you feel better.

➘ The fact that he’s a doctor makes him even more understanding and attentive to your needs!

➘ Being a true gentleman, he would offer to do all the housework and daily chores, of course. He would make sure you don’t have to do anything other than rest.

➘ To comfort you, he would try to make you laugh with his jokes and charming humor. He would do everything to make you feel loved and supported during this time.

—English is not my first language, so sorry for any mistakes!!

[cosmicstarlatte]

Thirst/comfort???? How about Luci about to have sex with reader (their first time) and they cant at all relax? They're really tense and shaky because they know its gonna hurt. (Luci comforting reader during the whole thing? i dont know if this counts as a thirst)

-🍊Oranchi🍊

18+ nsfw headcanon // minors do not interact

Omg 😩💕!!!

Lucifer is a caretaker at heart and that extends to the bedroom. Depending on what u want huehue 😏

He knows if it's done right, it shouldn't be that painful. Of course he knows everyone is different but he assures you that he will try to make it the least painful as possible, 'slow and steady' is how it'll be done he tells you when he sees how nervous you are.

He would be so soft and sweet, he loves you and he wouldn't do anything to harm you. He would check in on you frequently through out the whole session. He'd be so gentle, praising you when he can.

"Look at how well you're taking my fingers already."

He'd press soft tender kisses to your face and neck as his warm lubed up fingers gently finger fuck you. He'd murmur a small "we can stop anytime you're uncomfortable my little lamb."

He will make sure you're as comfortable as you can be. After all, and perhaps there's some selfishness here, it'd hurt his pride if you didn't enjoy your first time with him.

"Mm...doing so good. The tip is already in, how are you feeling?" He asks and presses a sweet kiss to your forehead.

"Oh my little lamb wants more? Very well then." ⬦

also someone requested a virgin mc version of this back in june and I've been sitting on it ever since. perhaps I should continue to work on it?🫣

Lucifers part is actually done and idk if I wanna release that by itself or not in case I don't actually finish it... Decisions of an amateur writer. 😔

[moonstruckme]

Omg I have another weird request. So I get really bad gas bubbles in my tummy, like to the point of curling up and crying. So what helps is tummy rubs. Can you do a cute thing with doctor remmy since he would know this and like not even care about the burps or toots 🫣🫣 it’s so embarrassing but it happens all the time mostly after I eat and I just want comforting hands of doctor Remus 🥺💕

Thanks for requesting love!

cw: stomach pains, mention of gas bubbles, and implied belching and passing gas

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 618 words

You hear Remus come home, but you can’t make yourself call out a greeting. You’re curled up on the couch, using the butt of your palm to try and push out the pain and gritting your teeth through the largely unrewarding process. You turned on the TV when you first laid down, but you can’t focus on it enough to distract yourself. 

“Dove?” Remus’ voice moves from the kitchen into the living room, his footfalls quiet. Then he’s towering over the back of the couch, concern a line between his brows. It digs in when he sees you. 

“Hi,” you manage. 

“Hi, honey.” His voice stretches with a weighty compassion. He rounds the couch to sit by your feet, hand landing atop your curled legs. “Stomach bothering you again?” 

You hum miserably. This is the worst kind of pain, in your opinion. Not harsh or biting, but buried deep, throbbing and tender like a bruise. 

“C’mere,” Remus says, scooting closer to you and worming his hand in between your stomach and your thighs. 

“Sorry,” you say, voice nearly breaking on a sob. He’s only just gotten home from work, and you’ve already given him a task he didn’t ask for. It’s hardly a sexy thing to come home to.

“Don’t be,” he replies softly, sliding his hand underneath yours on your belly. You slip yours out to let him work. 

Remus’ hands are slightly cold from the chill outside, but they warm quickly, gentle but resolute as he applies a careful pressure to the bubbles inside your stomach. He’s far kinder than you had been, easing the bubbles out rather than punishing them. His slender fingers are deft and skillful. You find yourself relaxing even before the hurt has begun to lessen. 

A belch rises up in your throat before you can warn him. You squeeze your eyes shut in mortification. “Jesus. Sorry.” 

“Quit apologizing,” Remus says, bending over you to kiss the side of your neck lightly. His hand continues to knead at your stomach with a gentle lovingness. “That’s a good thing. Does it feel better?” 

“A little.” You give him a wan smile. You wish you felt well enough to sit up and kiss him back. Your poor boyfriend hasn’t even had time to take off his scrubs; you definitely owe him a cup of tea after this, at the very least. 

“Good.” The word eases off his tongue warm and buttery, and the smile he gives you in return is just as comforting. “I can see you thinking, lovely girl. You’re feeling poorly enough, don’t torment yourself extra.” 

You cringe as another gas bubble escapes you. “You haven’t eaten dinner yet,” you say guiltily. “If I were you, my appetite would be ruined.” 

Remus hums. “Well then I suppose it’s a good thing you’re not me.” He grins, reaching up with his free hand to cup the back of your head. His thumb draws circles into your temple. “My appetite will be fine, dove. I wouldn’t be very good at my job if I was squeamish, hm? Anyway, I couldn’t eat if I knew you were hurting. Helping you helps me.”

You burp again, more of the pain tingling out of you as you finally begin to relax. “I’m writing to the Vatican,” you sigh. “You need to be considered for sainthood.” 

Remus laughs. It’s a rare, hearty sound, loud and deep and chest-tightening. You think that you’re lucky it hadn’t happened before he’d set to work on your stomach; you’re not sure your body would have been able to handle it. 

“I’m not sure I’d qualify,” he admits, considering you with his tongue stuck in his cheek, “but I appreciate the thought, dove.”

[redroomreflections]

Hair Care

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Request: Bestie I'll always come with requests :D how about in the early TLH days with Nat asking r to teach her how to do R's hair after maybe R stayed with her at the compound for the first time? Very soft and gentle Nat 💕

The Loud House Universe

It was quiet at the compound, the kind of stillness that only came late at night when everyone had retreated to their rooms and the hum of the facility faded into the background. You sat cross-legged on Natasha’s bed, your fingers working through your hair in steady, practiced motions. You had come to stay with Natasha for the first time, and though the unfamiliarity of the compound felt overwhelming at times, moments like this — peaceful and soft — made it feel like home.

It's a ritual you've known all your life - the detangling, the sectioning, the careful twisting. Something was grounding about it that reminded you of home and your mother spending her weeknights doing this very process. You didn't plan on needing to do your hair at Natasha's place. You also didn't plan on the hours of lovemaking that would inevitably cause this very process right here.

A smile graced your face as you remembered the feel of her lips pressed against your own.

Natasha leaned against the doorway, her eyes never leaving yours. She had always admired how you carried yourself — the quiet confidence, the grace that came so naturally. But there was something about watching you care for your hair that felt… sacred. Each curl you tenderly worked through, each product you applied with intention, it all felt like a ritual, a language she didn’t yet understand but wanted to learn. She stood there, captivated, unsure of how to ask the questions forming in her mind.

This was Natasha’s first time with someone so different from herself, and it made her feel uncharacteristically unsure. It wasn’t just your hair — though that alone fascinated her — it was everything about you. The way you navigated the world with a different kind of strength, a resilience born from experiences she’d never had to face. There was an authenticity about you that felt grounding, in contrast to the many layers of disguise and deception she’d worn her entire life.

When Natasha allowed herself to date in the past, it was always fleeting. Simple flings, a few weeks here, a few months there. Nothing lasting, nothing too personal. Her life as a spy required distance, a self-imposed detachment. Getting close to someone had always felt like a risk she couldn’t afford. But this was different.

With you, it wasn’t about quick connections or keeping things easy. It was about learning, about appreciating the parts of you that felt foreign to her but so integral to who you were. The way you cared for your hair, and your skin, the love you put into the routines that kept you grounded — it was all new to her. Natasha’s curiosity was piqued, not just out of habit or professional interest, but because she genuinely wanted to understand. She wanted to know every part of you, even the parts that had nothing to do with her.

Her fingers twitched at her sides as she wondered how to ask. It wasn’t a simple question of wanting to learn how to braid or twist; it was about wanting to be closer, to understand this beautiful part of your life she hadn’t experienced before.

You looked up, meeting her eyes and smiling softly. She was always beautiful, but there was something about the way her green eyes looked in this moment, a tenderness to her gaze you hadn't seen before. It took your breath away.

You could feel her restlessness from the few feet away and you let out a small laugh. "You can help, you know." You reached out to her, and grabbed the comb from the bed to pass to her.

"I don't want to mess it up," Natasha said unsurely.

"Well, you didn't think about that when you were knocking my head against the headboard," You pointed out.

Natasha rolled her eyes, but a grin tugged at her lips. She stepped forward, taking the comb. "You can guide me," she suggested, settling behind you. She rested her hands on your shoulders, giving a light squeeze before trailing them down the length of your arms.

"What should I do?" she asked.

"Just keep going. Section out a little bit more and pull back," you instructed, pointing to the area where she should begin.

"Like this?" she asked, pulling gently on a section of hair.

"Yeah, and then take the comb, and run it through like this," you guided her hand with yours, showing her the motion.

Natasha smiled as she watched her hands work, focused intently on her task. This felt different than what she had done with others. In the past, her sexual exploits were mostly based in a shared understanding — a desire to fuck and not much else. But this was different. With you, everything felt heightened, each touch and look more significant than it ever had before. Natasha didn't want to hurt you, or disappoint you. She wanted to learn, to experience this with you in the same way you'd experienced everything with her.

"A braid would be nice," You offered.

"Okay," Natasha replied, following your instructions carefully.

You hummed, and closed your eyes as she worked, relishing the feel of her nimble fingers twisting through your hair.

Natasha finished, wrapping an elastic around the end of your braid.

"I know you have questions," You spoke aloud.

"How do you know?"

"It's written all over your face."

Natasha leaned forward, her chest brushing against your shoulders. She wrapped her arms around your midsection, kissing the exposed skin of your neck.

"Is this what you did when you were younger?"

You nodded.

"You're beautiful," she breathed against your neck. "All of you."

"Thank you," You murmured. "Of course back then my mom took care of it." You informed her. "She did my hair, and we watched movies."

"Tell me about them," Natasha encouraged, settling back down and wrapping her arms around your waist again.

"They were funny," You said. "Mostly things she wouldn't allow me to watch on my own. That way we could have open discussions about certain things. My favorite was Waiting to Exhale. I was attracted to Angela Bassett."

"Hmm, she's a beautiful woman," Natasha mused.

"Yeah," You said. "Haircare days weren't always my favorite but with three siblings it was always a way for me to spend time with her."

Natasha gave a gentle squeeze to your hips, encouraging you to continue.

"She was never afraid to allow me to try different hair colors, or cuts, or styles," You explained. "I went through a straightening phase in early high school. She quickly put a stop to that."

Natasha smiled. "Sounds like you two had a lot of fun together."

"We did."

Natasha kissed the back of your neck, holding her lips against your skin for a moment before pulling away.

"I want my daughters to feel the same pride in their hair and their skin," You said softly. Your relationship is still too new to talk about long-term plans together but, you'd like to think that she would be there too. "If that ever comes about."

Natasha hummed. "You're going to be a great mother."

You smiled. "I hope so," You shrug. "What's your favorite hairstyle of mine?"

"Hmm," Natasha thought for a second."I like the braids you get. The single ones in your hair what did you call them?"

"Box braids," You laughed.

"Yes! They suit you." She nodded. "I like you natural too."

"I'll have to let my hair breathe for a little," You said. "Though it's a protective style getting braids back to back can be tension-heavy."

"Protective style?"

"Yeah," You said. "You know... a hairstyle that doesn't require a lot of maintenance, or that protects the hair."

"Gotcha," Natasha nodded.

"So," You leaned back into her. "Do you want me to teach you how to care for it?"

"I would love that," She grinned.

"Okay," You nodded and then looked down at your braid.

"I love it when you share things about yourself," She said. "Especially things that mean so much to you. And, I liked this, even though I didn't know what I was doing."

You turned and looked back at her, kissing her cheek. "I love you, Nat."

Natasha smiled, a flush creeping up her cheeks. "I love you, too."

[unabashedly-so]

Reaching

word count: 920

warnings: mentions of alcohol, sex, and kind of self-destructive vibes I guess?

Similar to and taken some inspiration from @snailmail444's fic, "Elliot Situationship"; but I promise while are inevitably structural similarities, the content is, hmm, unfortunately organically homegrown. Hope you don't mind the mention--it's a fic that stuck with me and I just felt it fair to acknowledge the similarities! 💕

----------

Elliott needed a muse; you needed a release. Neither of you were ready for commitment, but neither of you were ready to be alone.

So together, per the agreement, you do everything except love.

He reads you his manuscript. You tell him the town gossip. You dance, you drink, you dance some more, you drink a little more. You discuss philosophy, politics, religion, family, and all the things neither of your last partners knew very much about. You smell salt in his hair, the cherry wine on his breath, and taste the cherries when he kisses you.

It’s well past 3am—and not for the first time nor for the last—when he asks you if you’ve ever…? And the answer is complicated—it always is. When he listens, you’re certain you see it—in his intention, disbelief, sadness, care. When he holds you in his arms, it’s secure.

Then you make love. Or, you would, but it can’t be that, so you… what was the word he used, ever the wordsmith?

“Fuck.”

He tries to say it smoothly, but it trips out of his mouth like an accident. Elliott doesn’t curse. He could euphemize, allegorize, wax poetic… but whenever it comes to this, he curses instead.

He is gentle, tender, slow as he lights sparks down your body.

The first several times, everything feels right in the world. Riding the high of release and connection, you hardly notice it’s not the same. Then its absence begins to grow heavier on you, time after time, until you finally recognize—it hurts.

You spend your days raking yourself over different scenarios: we have to stop doing this, or I can’t keep doing this, or this is no longer beneficial for me, or you’ve begun to mean too much to me, and always, I’m sorry.

You spend your nights chasing, reaching for what you know you cannot have, and telling, lying to yourself that the act of reaching is enough. Because you can’t, but you do. You do, you do, you do.

If you think you are in love, and you feel like you are in love, then how far of a reach is it to say you simply are?

Pain’s like that, too.

“Harder,” you tell him the next time he’s between your legs.

He kisses you just below your ear, whispering as he does not falter in his steady pace, “Patience, patience…”

“Harder.”

Now he pauses. He looks at you, his beautiful auburn hair tossed in a way he never lets anyone else see, and you look at him. His voice is soft but firm.

“I don’t want to hurt you…”

--but there’s a lift at the end, you heard it. He’s weak for you. “You won’t,” you lie, sinking your teeth into his weakness. “Please.”

You blink and hope the lowlight hides what had welled in the corners of your eyes when he’d stretched you to tears only moments ago.

His eyes hold yours in the winded silence between you. He opens his mouth to say something, then looks away, lips pressed into a thin line.

This is what we signed up for, isn’t it? If you don’t love me, then fuck me like it.

“Do it,” you press.

And not without hesitation or passion, he does.

It hurts, but at least it’s an honest hurt.

Afterwards, you lay your head on his chest and listen to his heart gradually find its steady rhythm again. His arm is wrapped around you. He pauses before he kisses your hair, where his lips do linger.

When it is time to leave, because someone must always leave, his fingertips trail against your skin. For a split second, you imagine they twitch, reaching, as if to grab you and bid you stay. But you stand up and only feel the chill of empty air on your skin.

It’s not the first time you’ve done this together, too, so there’s a ritual around leaving. You go through it with mechanical precision. He thanks you for coming by, says he enjoyed your company. You say the same, and together, at an arm’s length, you do both mean it.

“Good night, Elliott,” you bid him as you reach for the door.

“Good night, love,” he says back to you without flinching.

Why would you say that? you want to scream, Why would you say that?

And so, instead of screaming, you don’t say anything at all. You open the door and step outside and away from the cabin, and maybe the door closes behind you, maybe not, it doesn’t matter. Your eyes transfix on the sea as the roaring of the waves crashing against the shore drowns out everything else. They swell, they break, they reach and reach and reach, and then they’re dragged back, cast back into the devouring void. To be re-congealed, reformed into swells destined to break again and get dragged back again—

and reach. And reach. And reach.

It’s high tide, and the sand an arm’s length away is solid and cold from a wave for now receded. Another wave swells, breaks, reaches, and is dragged back, leaving barely a trace to show so that each wave looks fresh and new, and not an infinite plus one.

You are not so lucky. Though your tracks in the sand quickly erode in the breeze, you will hold the memory from each and every time you find yourself here again.

How many more times will it be?

You begin to count the waves.

[y2xnjn]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ tipsy!yeonjun (nsfw 18+)

— a/n: happy birthday to the one and only!! sorry this is very very late, but here is my first work. i hope you guys enjoy it! inspired by drunk jjun cause he's js so dear to me 💕

✧ tipsy!yeonjun x fem!reader, wc: 1.7k

✧ warnings: smut— MDNI !! unprotected sex, oral, pet names (baby, princess)

you take in the way yeonjuns face crinkles when he smiles. his bangs splayed over his eyes, ruffled and his grin lopsided, softly laughing as you try to take the bottle in front of him. he puts his hands out, attempting to grab any of the previously emptied bottles on the table but gives up, eventually finding comfort in your hand instead. he looks up at you, and that’s the first time you really see his eyes that night, pink and his cheeks even pinker, so when he asks you if he can stay the night how can you say no?

taking yeonjun up to your bedroom, his body weight leaning on you and stumbling at every turn. when you lay him on your bed, he doesn’t let go of your hand. you squirm trying to leave, aiming for the door and to shut off the lights, so he can rest, but his grip stays firm. please, his eyes say, hooded, but coated with a gloss that makes you gulp and lay next to him, your stomach flipping. yeonjun pulls you closer, one hand finding its way around your waist, and the other at the back of your head stroking your hair. the scent of alcohol fills up your nose as it’s buried in his neck, but you don’t mind because you smell it just as much as his natural scent.

soon enough, his hand that stayed wrapped around your waist has traveled down to your ass, and his fingers softly trail under your shorts, over your bare skin. his touch gentler than usual, sending shivers down your spine when he says in your ear, with a low and gruff voice, “you’re so pretty baby.” his lips give one kiss to yours as if warning you about what’s to come before they make their way to your neck. soft and pillowy like they’re not even there, but you’re definitely feeling the effects of it, your mind turning fuzzy as he trails even lower, mellow nips at your collarbone.

he looks up at you with one last kiss to your cleavage, his eyes still glossy but with a newfound heat in them before he’s rolling you over and hovering on top of your subdued body, hands on either side of you. tonight, yeonjun is gentle, nearly faded, in some sort of daze, but right now, the more tender he is, the more you want him.

“jjun,” eyes mimicking his pleas from earlier, your hands find their way to tug at his hoodie. the bulge in his pants rests against your thigh, and it grows as you whimper, his lips taking yours again. he ruts onto your thigh with fluid movements. so slow, soo slow, almost like he’s torturing himself, but he’s just too out of it to realize how badly he wants to feel you. shifting his weight to one hand, he grasps your breast, his finger brushing over your clothed nipple as he smiles against your skin at the way your breath gets caught in your throat and your heartbeat speeds up. “yeonjun, please.”

“my pretty girl,” he smiles, watching you whine in discomfort, trying to tease you, but the way he continues to grind against your leg tells you he’s just as desperate. his fingers ghost over your clothed slit, barely able to feel the sensations over the denim of your jeans, and you cry out, bucking your hips, needing him to do something, to touch you somewhere. “so good for me. ”

tears well up in your eyes in frustration, and he seems to take notice, finally applying pressure where you need him most. unbuttoning your pants, he pulls them down along with your lace panties that make him groan at the sight. “looking so cute for me. my pretty princess, only for me, isn't that right?" you nod, feverishly; gulping when his lips brush against the cloth so softly, it barely feels like a tingle, though it sends sparks through your legs, making your thighs close together absentmindedly. yeonjun pushes one thigh down to keep you spread apart, just enough space for him to ruin you with his tongue. he tugs the lace to the side and stares in awe at the amount of wetness that has spread across, nearly drenched in arousal. he leans in torturously slow, gloss-coated fox eyes making contact with yours, and tongues at your folds. he doesn’t stop holding eye contact, except when his eyes roll back and he moans at the taste of you.

your body trembles under his control as he eats you out, his mouth on every inch of your pussy, licking you up and sucking hard where you feel it the most, as if he was made for this, made to please you. cries travel far, your neighbors would probably be able to hear how good he’s giving it to you, with every dip of his tongue into your hole, you whine and with every nudge of his nose against your bud, you squirm until you finally reach your limit. fingers tangling in his hair and tugging to warn him of your climax, he doesn’t stop, and instead gives you what you’re asking for, putting his all in to give you a mind blowing orgasm. “need you to cum on my tongue, baby. please give it to me,” he whines as he says it, as if he needs you to cum more than you do.

before you’re able to relax, yeonjun’s fingers prod at your cunt, gentle but still enough pressure to make you whimper due to the overstimulation. his hooded eyes traverse your body, and he bites his lip, his hands moving to undo his belt. pulling his pants down, his cock slips out, red and veiny, your eyes water at the sight.

"baby," you coo, "you're so hard." your hand reaches out, smearing his tip with your thumb, and he whimpers at the touch, squirming and hanging his head low as you rub him. you feel like you're in control for a split second until he looks back up, eyes on you as if he was about to pounce and ruin you until you can barely speak a word, lips caught between his teeth, bruised and swollen and hair disheveled from the aftermath of your fingers. your hands still on his cock, and you suddenly feel like prey, as he towers over you. yeonjun rubs his tip against your clit, whatever remnants from your previous orgasm leaking out, and he absorbs your cries for him to just slip it in with his lips pressed against your mouth, wanting you to beg for his touch. “jjun— i need you. please— want it so bad, so bad, need you to put it in.”

tears prick from the corner of your eyes, and his gaze softens when he sees a stream down your cheek, your lips jousted out in a pretty pout. he presses his palm against your cheek and kisses your pout with one of his own before he sweetly mutters against your lips, "i'll give you whatever you want when you sound that pretty for me, princess." you feel him enter you with a low groan emitting from his throat, and the stretch never fails to make you twitch. you shut your eyes to distract yourself from the pressure, more tears falling from your eyes, and yeonjun kisses them away, taking your hand into his and squeezing it tightly until his warmth enters you fully.

every ridge of his cock scratches your walls with satisfaction, the weight of his stomach pressing against the bulge that rests inside you. the feeling of your walls tightly wrapped around his length makes it hard for him to thrust into you, his mouth agape at the way you take him in. your hand once again find itself in his locks, fingers nearly imprinted into his scalp from the way he cautiously moves. yeonjun’s eyebrows furrow as he focuses on his movements, finally fucking into with a pace.

the circumstances aren’t new, but the effect the motion has on you makes you feel a way you’ve never felt. yeonjun’s thrusts are lazy, but they hit a spot inside you that has you yelling. he tightly grips your hips, controlling the way they buck up every time his length presses into your cervix. he opens his eyes when you grab his hair harshly, and nearly cums at the sight of your fucked out face, and he prays the alcohol in his system has worn off, so he can remember the sight. “you’re so tight- so pretty, so mesmerizing.” he almost sobs, a rough thrust making you scream. “gonna fucking cum in you, princess, make some pretty babies— can i please, please cum?”

the tears are finally visible in his glossy, bloodshot eyes, about to break free if you make him hold out any longer, so your hand moves down to hold his jaw as you press a kiss to his lips, moaning a soft, “yes, jjunie. fill me up.”

this puts him over the edge, his cum filling you up with warmth, and you throw your head back at the feeling. his thrusts turn sloppy, but don't stop, riding out his own high and pushing yours further. he feels you clenching even harder, pulling him closer by his hair as you wail out that you're close. "pretty girl's gonna cum all over me? make me hers?" you nod, and his movements become faster. yeonjun clenches his jaw, gritting his teeth at the pain of the overstimulation, but doesn't let up, wanting you to feel as good as he did. "fuck, come on, baby. want your cute fucking pussy to claim me."

your second high finally hits you, your walls fluttering around his cock as your seed spills out, and you moan into his mouth with a soft smile. he pulls out, his softening length dripping all over the glistening skin of your thighs. a soft curse falls from his lips when your hands finally release his hair, a sense of relief washing over the two of you as he falls beside you. sweaty and heaving breaths fill the air, and you look over at him, expecting to see him passed out, but you're met with his gleaming eyes and a cute pout. his cheeks are tainted with bubblegum, and you feel like showering him with affection, so you lean over and kiss his forehead. his lips stretch out into a gooey smile when you pull back, and his eyes flutter shut, his heavy breaths slowing down until his chest is rising and falling in a relaxed motion. "go to sleep, baby. i'll cure your hangover in the morning with something special."

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Stormy Weather

Alfie Solomons x F!Reader; angst/comfort/fluff

Trigger Warnings: major domestic issues, trauma response, things are resolved but hard, language

A/N: Hey my loves! So this one is… pretty hard core for me? I rarely write angst but this one has been on my mind for a bit. This does get pretty aggressive but I needed to process my own experiences with DV and relationship issues. This story isn’t meant to glorify or make light of DV, but rather it’s a way for me to process my fears about my future relationships after my bad one. I hope this made sense, and maybe someone could find some catharsis in this like I did. Love you all to bits and pieces, I’m trying to get to my inbox!! As always, feel free to send me prompts or requests. Love you all 💕- Mo

It had been tense recently in the Solomons house. The new men in the bakery were just above incompetent despite Shelby assurance. American prohibition put another twist in the binds. And the recent weather had done nothing to aid Alfie’s sciatica. Through no fault of your own, and despite your best efforts, Alfie was knee deep in angry old man territory.

Though that wasn’t something that put you off. Women are not so easily turned by nasty weather, for better or worse.

You weren’t naive to the tempest of your husband. The beauty of his heart and his mind had to paid for by torrential rains once a season. His roar never came to your quiet garden, though you were acquainted with his rumbles and thunder. But you knew how to temper it. You knew what brought him through it into the clear.

You hummed to the radio in the corner, settling your finishing touches to a soothing evening with your beast of a husband. Brisket was just pulled out, with carrots and potatoes buttery and tender. You had washed the sheets and blankets, pressed them with dried lavender and eucalyptus oil. Lamps were turned low, and the fire was a soothing crackle, the entire parlor a syrup sweet orange glow. Water was hot for a bath for two, and everything was set for a soft warm evening.

As you pour out your first glass of wine, you hear the front oak door swing open, and slam shut shaking the walls. Light on your feet you flew to the front, opening your arms as a harbor. “Alfie darling, get your coat off, I have dinner and wine all set for your already! Let’s get you warm!”

His eyes don’t even meet yours as he evades your soft arms.

You feel as though your body wilts. Completely crumbling under the weight of the dejection.

But maybe he didn’t see you! Maybe he just didn’t realize!! He works hard he probably just has to attend to something quickly.

Your bare feet flex against the frigid wood stairs, creaking under the weight of your trek. Your ears perked up to the rustling of the papers and slamming of drawers and rumble of his voice. Like a dragon arranging his lair.

You crack the heavy door, requiring all of your weight. Paper and ink were thrown around, drawers yanked crooked, and you see him take long swigs of the amber liquid in the crystal decanter. “Alfie? Darling you alright? Did something happen”

He does not even toss a glance, “nothing that concerns you. Close the door one your way out.”

The rolling thunder edges closer to the home, “Aren’t you going to come down and eat? I’ve made your favorite tonight.”

“Does it look like I care about dinner? I’m preoccupied at the moment and don’t need your yowling right now.”

A bright flash illuminates the room.

“Alfie I don’t know what’s wrong but you will not speak to me like this.”

“I’ll fucking speak to you how I fucking feel like! Now get the fuck out!”

The sky explodes. Shaking the paintings and photos on the walls. The mirror above the fireplace behind you shifts precariously. Your eyes shut but the sounds wash over you.

You don’t let the anger out of your chest very often. You pride yourself on keeping an even temper and offering a gentle hand in place of the rage. Especially when being with Alfie, your honeyed lips and temperament is what makes you the queen of Camden. There’s been so few people who have seen your rage, much less deserved to receive it.

“Get the fuck out you said?”

A slight chill runs down Alfie’s spine. “Yeah. Yeah I said get the fuck out. You deaf now?”

Another flash.

“Ok.”

Alfie hardly blinks before he suddenly sees glass hurdling towards his face. He just barely ducks before it shatters against the wall behind him.

“What the fuck!” He roars and thrashes.

To his shock, you pick up the glasses on his bar cart, throwing them with all your might at his head, one by one, with deadly aim.

“Get the fuck out eh Alfie! Get the fuck out!! I’ll get the fuck out! Maybe I’ll take you fucking with me!”

You make your way to the Faberge eggs on the shelf.

“Don’t you fucking dare sweetheart! There will be hell to pay if you touch those fucking eggs!”

“Oh we are well past that Alfie. You tell me to get the fuck out? I’m taking your fucking stuff!”

Three perfectly beautiful eggs are slammed against the fire with your husband roaring and punching the wall, “Enough damnit! Get the fuck out of my office! Get to the fucking room you fucking lunatic! I’ll lock you in the bedroom if you keep this up!”

“Oh I’d like to see you try! You call yourself a man! King of Camden! King of Camden so upset he curses out his woman! So mighty yet he can’t take care of his own home! You’re a fucking CHILD! A fraud!”

You grab at a cabinet and pull it down, slamming against the ground. The glass shattered. The tin type of your wedding surely shattered in the frame. In the moment of silence after the shatter, you don’t realize Alfie coming up behind you and lifting you in the air.

You scream and kick, trying to get away and out of his grasp. But he was immovable. A wall. All you hear was his grunts as you howled and cried. He wrenches the bedroom door open, throwing you onto your marriage bed. You scramble up the bed, reaching for the knife under your pillow.

Heaving breaths, Alfie puts his hands in surrender, “Treacle treacle please. Enough ok. No need to stick me. Let’s.. let’s talk.”

“You’ve already said anything you need to. I don’t want to hear anything you have to say you fucking-“

“Darling I was wrong. Ok. I shouldn’t have swore at you. Come on. Just… put it down. Let’s… let’s talk about this ok? Truce?”

You push the hair out of your eyes, wipe the tears off your face and put the knife on the night stand, far enough from either of you.

Alfie has never raised a hand towards you ever. He’d rather put the gun on himself than touch you. But old habits die hard.

You pull your feet under your night gown. Watching Alfie pull off his coat and shoes before sitting on the bed. The ancient frame creaking under his weight.

He reaches for your hand, but retracts when he sees your dark stare toward it. With a sigh he relents and decides to begin. It’s never good to be the starter of negotiations. “Darling. I am sorry for shouting at you. It wasn’t fair to you. The business doll… it does my head in. But. It doesn’t excuse shouting at you. Can you forgive me?”

You feel the heaviness slowly slipping away from your neck. You nod meekly, allowing your fingers to drift to his, weaving around his warm fingers.

Brushing the inside of your wrist, he continues, “Now darling. While I was in the wrong, you don’t normally start throwing shit around. Very unlike you it is. You want to explain what caused that? What’s going on in that pretty head?”

You shake your head no. It’s sitting on your tongue though it’s so bitter. You can’t bring yourself to spit out the poison.

“Oh come on darling. It’s just me. Nothing can put me off. You and me forever right?”

You nod, and reveal your feelings, even if it’s a slow trickle.

“I just… got so angry at you Alfie. I’ve been so lonely these past few months. You’ve been gone. Any time you say you’ll be home you’re not. I’m without you all the time. And when you are here, you’re not really. Your mind is still gone and I don’t have my husband. Just his body. And his words hurt me so much. And I thought, I thought tonight I could finally get you. I thought if I tried hard enough you would be happy and with me. Like we were. And then when I tried to help you and be your wife, you screamed at me. And it hurt me. So I wanted to hurt you and break things to make myself feel better. But it didn’t. It made me more angry and sad and…”

Your words were reduced to tears as your husband pulled you into his lap. Your tears soaked his neck and shirt, “Oh God Alfie I’m so sorry! That was wrong and I’m sorry! Alfie was please forgive me! I’ll never disturb you again! I’ll never throw anything ever again! Oh God Alfie can you forgive me!”

A gentle kiss to your forehead settles your fears, “Now my darling you know in your heart of hearts that we are bound for eternity. Nothing is taking us apart. Not even when we fight like demons. I’m yours and you’re mine. You and me… well we just need a little medicine yeah? Just need some help right now. You and me need to do a better job talking to each other and listening yeah?”

You can barely get words out as you nod. Cheeks hot and sticky. But it doesn’t stop Alfie from kissing your cheeks so tenderly. “My dove. My sweet dove. The business has been out of control but it’s finally settling down. I came home angry because of all the messes I’ve had to clean up. But I shouldn’t have taken it out on the one person I like. The one person I love. But it’s finally settled my pet.”

His thick hands tenderly touch your chin to bring your eyes to his, which are also wet with tears, “I promise to always tell you when I’m not doing ok. And if I can’t tell you then, I’ll make sure to tell you when I need a moment. You think you can promise your old man the same?”

“Yes… I promise.” You whisper

There is a slight twinkle that flies across his eyes, “Think you can seal it with a kiss?”

You throw yourself against him, and he catches you with a grunt. You hated to fight. You’d sooner walk into the ocean than be at odds with the love of your life. When you finally come up for air, Alfie whispers against your lips, “I’m staying home for the rest of the week. I’ll tell Ollie what he needs to do in the morning.”

Without moving a millimeter you say, “No you can’t darling. It’s your life I don’t want you to have to stay home if you can’t.”

“You’re my life treacle. Forever and all eternity you’re what matters. I’ve decided. I’m staying home. And come Saturday we go up to Margate.”

“Are you sure?”

“As sure as I am that you’re the only woman for me.”

He kisses you sweetly, and you whimper as you let yourself be further embraced by him. Barely moving from your lips he whispers, “Why don’t you start a bath darling? I’ll grab tea from downstairs and join you soon.”

“I made dinner… it’s on the stove for you.”

“I’ll bring a plate for us. You just… get comfortable for me treacle. I think we need some time.”

For the rest of the night… and the rest of the week. You spent time talking and embracing, coming back together and healing what had been fraying at the edge. Though mistakes were made, and there were deep wrongs, you both wanted to fix it, to heal.

Neither of you were perfect. You never would be. But there was love there, and determination to get through the wounds that lead to these kinds of mistakes. These moments were not ok, and they stemmed from deep seated traumas that were undealt with. But you both wanted this marriage. You both wanted each other. And you both would work everyday to make it work.

With every word.

With every caress.

With every kiss.

Things would heal.

[hibiscuswrites]

Do you write for COD MW2?? If you do, could I have Ghost, Alejandro, Rudy, and Price reaction to coming home to their women after a tough mission with a lot of close calls?? Thanks!

I do! 🥰 I haven’t yet but I’d like to try my hand at them so I’ve added them to my list. I’ve written a few things for practice but I haven’t posted them. Admittedly, I don’t feel like I write Soap very well 🥴 but I’ll keep trying. Hope you like it 💕

Edit: just realized I’m illiterate and put soap instead of price so I added him in at the end 🙈 sorry about that

You can see his shoulders drop in relief as soon as he lays eyes on you

Happy to be home

Happy to be safe

Happy to be back with you

There were a few times he was worried he wouldn’t make it back to you and not that he finally has, he can’t let you go

His embrace is gentle yet secure as he clings to you

“Missed you so much, mi vida.”

He clings to you for days once he’s back

Definitely makes you breakfast in bed with fresh fruits and whipped cream smiley faces on your pancakes

He’ll sit with you on the couch and watch whatever your heart desires

He makes love to you gently

All soft kisses and hand holding

Enjoys for you to ride him and lets you take whatever you need from him

He’s more than happy to lay there and look up at you looking like a goddess as you bounce and grind

Nearly knocks you over with the force of his embrace when he finally gets his hands on you

One too many close calls where he wondered if gazing at the picture of you in his best would be the last time he ever saw you

He’s handsy

Paws gripping at your ass and thighs as he spins around with you

“There she is, my pretty girl.”

Probably trips with you

He doesn’t mean to be rough with you, he just can’t help it that he’s clumsy in his excitement

He goes down on you every chance he gets on nearly every surface in the house

On the sofa

In the shower

With you bent over the kitchen counter

He’s a munch through and through

And stays by your side like a puppy, simply happy to be back with his favorite girl

His embrace feels like it could pop your eyes clean out of your head

It’s tight and desperate almost

One bulky arm wrapped around your waist, the other cradling the back of your head, holding your face into his chest

Before he had you, it didn’t matter all that much if he didn’t make it home

But now that you’re his, he knows he needs to make it back in one piece

He needs to be there to protect you

To look after you

To make sure you eat and drink enough water

He holds you tightly as if you might slip away if he’s not careful

Eyes fluttering closed as you lean forward and press a soft kiss to the bridge if his nose

He allows himself to enjoy your affection and tenderness, whether he believes he deserves it or not

Loves soaking in a hot bath with you, feeling your back against his chest as he just enjoys the safe silence

Just don’t tell any one

He also will go down on you until you cry, hands pushing away at his head and shoulders

Whining that you can’t take any more

But he’s not interested in hearing that

“Sure you can, love. You wouldn’t deny me this perfect pretty pussy now, would ya?”

He devours you as soon as he has you in his arms

His mouth and hands touching everywhere he can get to

He’s barely got the door locked behind him before he’s stripping you

Leaving soft bites and hickies trailed along your body

He knows things could’ve easily gone south and he would’ve never seen you again

And that’s a thought he simply cannot bear

He’s got you in a mating press on the living room floor before you know it

Eyes fixated on your face as you whimper and pant, full to the brim with him

He commits every expression and noise to memory

“Missed me like crazy, huh chulita? My poor baby was so lonely without me.”

He ignores the rug burn in his knees, the very least of his worries

But he’s tender and caring with you afterwards, cleaning you up and cooking you your favorite meal

Planning date nights

Taking you out dancing

Enjoying as much of you as he possibly can before he has to leave again

He encases you tightly

Breathing in your scent

Committing it to memory

He’s missed you like crazy

Gazed at that crumpled picture of you in his pocket just in case it’s the last time

And now that he’s home he just can’t take his eyes or hands off of you

He wants to shower, get the grime off before he taints you

And he brings you with him

Making sure he’s clean before he has you pressed against the shower wall

Showing you how much he’s missed his girl

“Can’t get enough of you, I swear. You’ve ruined me.”

Romance for days once he’s back home

Flowers fresh from the florist

Little love notes scattered around the house

Anything to see you smile

General taglist

 @titty-teetee   @vibranium-soul @ateliefloresdaprimavera @glimmerglittergirl @hatterripper31 @lilac-tea-time @krysiewithak

[sissyisawitch]

Christmas at Home

Part 2 of I'll Be Home For Christmas (link)

Relationship: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Summary: Ten years later, MC has a home, a family, and a husband. What does a traditional Christmas look like for her now?

Word Count: ~6.4k

Warnings: Tooth rotting Christmas fluff 🎅🎄

Author's Note: Requested by @mochiglow . Plus I wanted to write one last Christmas story before the end of the year (yes, once again, I had to rush to get the story out in time). As always, I hope you'll enjoy it! And I wish you lots of love for the year ahead💕

The room was shrouded in the soft glow of dawn, and MC found herself caught in the liminal space between sleep and wakefulness. Tossing and turning, her mind danced on the edge of dreams and reality, a swirl of thoughts and anxieties tugging at her subconscious. The weight of the night seemed to lift when, in that vulnerable moment, she inhaled a familiar scent that wrapped around her like a comforting embrace—Sebastian’s scent.

MC's senses gradually anchored to the reassuring fragrance that enveloped her. With a sigh, she opened her eyes to be met with her husband's naked torso. She had been waking up to the same sight for ten years to the day, ever since that memorable Christmas when they had met by sheer happenstance, and ended up confessing their feelings for each other. After leaving Anne and Ominis's house after dinner, MC had gone back to sleep at Sebastian's house in Hogsmeade, and that time, they had slept together in the same bed. From that day on, the two lovebirds had never left each other's side. MC had immediately moved in with Sebastian, having nowhere else to go after leading a nomadic and adventurous life. Sebastian had supported her every step of the way, helping her to find a job and to buy more possessions than what was in her suitcase (because she did in fact travel light).

In short, Sebastian had been the most incredible boyfriend, the most loving and patient partner, as well as the most reliable and unconditional support.

Thank Merlin he had been there to help MC get used to her new life of routine, because it had not been easy every day. Still, she was grateful to have overcome all these trials and tribulations, and especially to have done so alongside Sebastian, because it had brought her to the present moment. For ten years, she had had the privilege of waking up surrounded by the strong arms of the man she cherished more than anything else in the world, and witnessing the marks of time embedding into him: how his beard was fuller than before, how the patch of hair on his chest had widened and darkened, how his shoulders had broadened. But if there was one thing that remained unchanged, it was how madly in love Sebastian was with MC, and how he never failed to prove it to her.

Drawing solace from the gentle rise and fall of his chest, MC shifted closer to him – if that was even possible – seeking even more contact with his warmth, which, as always, miraculously succeeded in making all her nervousness vanish.

As if attuned to her restlessness, Sebastian stirred awake and instinctively tightened his hold around her petite figure.

“You’re up early.” Sebastian said with his husky morning voice, his eyes still heavy with sleep.

“I didn't sleep very well.” MC admitted while bringing her hands up to rest on his chest.

He placed a delicate kiss to her forehead, before looking at her, his gaze tender and filled with a quiet understanding, “I know you. You're stressing about today because you want everything to be perfect.”

“That must be it, yes…” She replied absently, mindlessly tracing the freckles that adorned his collarbones.

MC was not sure how, but the whole family had decided that for the first time, the Christmas festivities would be held at MC and Sebastian's house, instead of at Anne and Ominis' in Feldcroft as in all the other years.

“You don't have to worry, you know. We're not asking you to make a big feast. Besides, whatever you prepare, I know it'll be brilliant.” Sebastian continued to try and reassure her, still flashing his radiant smile.

MC made no response. Instead, she preferred to nestle her head in the crook of his neck and place tender kisses along his skin, moving her lips as slowly as possible to fully appreciate the taste of him. Fortunately, Sebastian did not question why his wife was being particularly cuddly this morning. He simply tightened his grip on her waist, his fingers digging into her flesh through her satin nightdress, while his other hand moved down her thigh to trace invisible shapes and caress her skin.

“I love you, Sebastian.” She declared all too solemnly.

He chuckled at her confession, which came out of nowhere, but which he never tired of hearing, “I love you too, darling.”

After all these years together, Sebastian still marvelled at how the soft contours of their bodies moulded perfectly into one another, as if they had truly been made for each other down to the very last detail. Limbs entwined and hearts beating in unison, they both revelled in each other's quiet, yet soothing presence… That was until Sebastian could no longer resist his ardour.

With two fingers under her chin, he tilted MC's face until their eyes met. Without wasting a second, Sebastian claimed her plump lips, kissing her languorously, all the while taking his time, as if he were discovering her for the first time. The way he sucked and nibbled her lips with fervour made MC realise that he was hungry for more than just breakfast.

MC let out several keen moans, which fuelled Sebastian's passion. He could not stop running his hands over every inch of her body, his electric touch setting her skin on fire. Sebastian's next move would have been to roll on top of his wife to pin her to the mattress... if only he had not been stopped short by the creak of their bedroom door being opened, followed by the patter of little feet.

Sebastian let out a deep growl and fell back onto his side of the bed, while MC giggled at his reaction.

"Mummy! Daddy! Wake up, it's Christmas!" Their son, Theodore, exclaimed with uncontainable excitement, like a burst of energy dispelling the lingering tranquillity. Sebastian and MC, still wrapped in the warmth of each other, exchanged a fond smile.

Oblivious to the interrupted moment, the five-year-old clambered onto the bed with a gleeful grin, and squeezed himself between his parents, joining their intertwined embrace.

“I can't wait for Father Christmas to come! I told him I want a big dragon this year!” Their son's voice bubbled with the magic of the holiday.

MC exchanged a glance with Sebastian, amused by their son's earnest Christmas wish, "A dragon, huh?" She teased. "That's a pretty big request, Theo. Are you sure you have enough space for a dragon in your room?"

Theo’s eyes narrowed as he contemplated the logistics, "Well, maybe a baby dragon? They're smaller, right?"

Sebastian chuckled, "We'll see what Santa can do, buddy.”

“Can we send him a letter to ask him to come sooner?” Theo asked eagerly.

Sebastian ruffled his son's unruly chestnut hair – the same one as him, “Easy there, little elf. You know he only comes once the whole family is together. Otherwise, it wouldn't be fair on Aunt Anne and Uncle Ominis. They wanna see him too.”

The child pouted, understanding his father's answer, but clearly dissatisfied with it all the same.

MC took her child in her arms and stood up, "Come on, young man. Let's get out of bed, and eat breakfast first. Then we’ll get ready, and I promise you won’t see time go by."

The family descended the stairs into the living room, which was bathed in Christmas atmosphere, with the tremendous tree shining brightly, the stockings hanging on the mantelpiece, and the dining table adorned with festive decorations, ready to welcome guests for a feast.

Luckily for MC, Theo was a real glutton like his father, so it was not difficult to convince him to eat. Nevertheless, like his mother this time, he was a real chatterbox. While they were all eating, Theo could not stop talking about the potential presents he was going to get. Overwhelmed with excitement, he kept chattering away, often with his mouth full, and MC had to remind him several times that this was impolite.

After breakfast, the family retreated to their respective corners of the house to get dressed in their festive best for the special occasion. Sebastian, who had quickly put on his outfit, went to help his son put on his Christmas attire which consisted of a green tartan shirt, red trousers with braces and a matching bow tie.

Meanwhile, MC put on a little make-up and slipped on her black velvet dress which had a V-neckline bordered by lace that matched the one decorating the cuffs of its long sleeves. The bust was fitted at the waist, and the skirt was flowing but still close enough to the body to outline the graceful curves of MC's body.

Sebastian appeared suddenly, and hugged MC from behind, making her jump slightly, “You’re gorgeous as always, my love. You never fail to take my breath away.”

MC turned around to take a look at him, clad in black trousers and shirt, with only a forest green tie for a touch of colour. It was rather simple but it always seemed to do the trick to make MC weak in the knees. Especially when he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, showing off his strong forearms, with freckles scattered among the hair, and veins bulging out of his tanned skin.

She devoured him with her eyes, a smirk plastered on her lips, “Thank you. You’re quite handsome yourself, you know.”

His hands started from between her shoulder blades, then travelled down her body, exploring the small of her back, the curves of her hips, until they landed on the soft pulp of her ass. He let out a throaty growl, “Merlin, I never get tired of this dress. I love the way it shows off your hips. Makes me wanna rip it right off to see the real deal underneath.”

Ashamed that he still managed to make her blush like a shy schoolgirl after so many years of marriage, MC pushed him away and turned her head to hide the scarlet tint in her cheekbones, “Keep your hands to yourself, Mister.”

“Oh, come on, you’re no fun. Let's just carry on with what we started earlier, while we can.” Sebastian whimpered as he tried to catch her.

Any protestations about having a lot on her plate and a meal to prepare, died on the tip of MC's tongue, as Sebastian snaked his hands around her waist, tracing his fingers down to her private parts. Even through her layers of clothing, his experienced touch was enough to ignite a passionate fire that warmed her core.

It would have been fun to keep going... if only they had not been interrupted by a sudden piercing scream coming from the living room.

Fear gripped both MC and Sebastian’s hearts as they raced downstairs, the staircase resounding with the loud thump of their hurried footsteps. The living room came into view, and their eyes immediately sought out their son, dreading that something had happened to him.

To their relief, he stood near the window, his face pressed against the glass, and his excitement turned the initial scream into joyful laughter, "Mummy, Daddy, look! It's snowing! It's really snowing!" He exclaimed, pointing at the delicate flakes dancing in the winter air.

Relief washed over MC and Sebastian when they saw that nothing serious had happened. However, their respite was short-lived, because the next moment, Theo was throwing a tantrum to be allowed to play outside.

Unable to resist his son's demands and desires, Sebastian, bundled up in a warm winter coat, led Theo out into the garden where a pristine blanket of snow awaited. Laughter echoed through the quiet air as father and son dove into the wintry playground, crafting a snowman with gleeful enthusiasm. The garden became a canvas for their snowy adventures, a scene of joyous bonding and shared laughter.

From the cozy warmth of the kitchen, MC observed the heartwarming spectacle unfolding outside. As she chopped vegetables and tended to the simmering pots, her gaze lingered on the snowy tableau framed by the window. The sight of Sebastian and Theo engaged in a spirited snowball fight filled her with gratitude. She marvelled at the twists of fate that had brought them here, realizing that, had they not moved in this house in Marunweem, this idyllic scene might have remained an unfulfilled wish.

MC and Sebastian's Hogsmeade cottage had rapidly become too cramped when ideas of marriage and children began to blossom in their minds. So, two Christmases later, Sebastian surprised MC with the house of her dreams in the hamlet of Marunweem. That evening, after showing her around the first floor with its many bedrooms that would accommodate possible guests or their future children, the vast living room with its welcoming fireplace, and the light-filled kitchen, Sebastian took MC out into the garden to admire the remarkable view over the lake of Marunweem. And when MC turned to thank her boyfriend, he was down on one knee, asking her to have him for the rest of his life, in the middle of the garden where they got married the following summer.

MC had just finished preparing Christmas dinner, a smile playing on her lips as she soaked in the warmth of the kitchen and the beauty of the snowy tableau outside, when an unexpected wave of dizziness swept over her, leaving her momentarily disoriented. The room seemed to sway, and she felt a sudden need to sit down. Lowering herself to the kitchen floor, she steadied her breath, attempting to shake off the unsettling sensation. In the midst of her momentary weakness, the world outside the window transformed into a blurred mosaic.

Sebastian, engaged in snowy merriment with Theo, glanced back toward the house. When he no longer saw MC at the window, a subtle dismay overcame him. Instinctively, he grabbed his son in his arms and rushed back inside, his heart pounding with worry.

Finding MC on the kitchen floor, Sebastian hurried to get their son out of the room, lest he too worry about his mother and start crying.

"Go take off your coat and shoes, and stay in the living room, little lad. I'll join you right after."

"Yes, Daddy."

Once Theo had gone, Sebastian knelt beside his wife, concern etched on his face, "Darling, what happened? Are you okay?"

With a reassuring smile, MC nodded, “I'm fine, just a dizzy spell. But it's gone now.”

Obviously, her words did not get through his thick skull, and failed to reassure him, because Sebastian was still visibly worried, “Come on, hold on to me. I'll take you to rest on the sofa.”

Before she could protest, Sebastian slipped one hand under her knees, and used the other to support her back as he lifted her off the ground and carried her bridal style. In order not to fall, MC had no choice but to lean fully against his chest (not that she was complaining, since she even took the opportunity to rest her head against his shoulder and get a whiff of his strong cologne).

Sebastian then tightened his embrace around her, making sure she was safe and secure in his arms. MC was by no means surprised by how overprotective he was with her. He had always acted that way with her, even when they were mere friends at Hogwarts, so she knew that it was not after so many years that he was going to start changing.

As promised, he carried her into the living room, where their son was settled at the coffee table while drawing, and deposited her on the plush sofa with the utmost delicacy, as if she were the most fragile and valuable treasure in the world, threatening to shatter into a thousand pieces at the slightest breeze, “There you go. And I don't want you to move from here. You'll only be allowed to get up and sit at the table when dinner starts.”

“Seb, I'm not made of glass.” MC tried to argue.

“No, but you're tired. You didn't sleep well last night, you shouldn't have been cooking on your feet all morning.” He replied, his voice filled with a mixture of fear and genuine care. “You should have asked me to help you, I could have prepared the meal.”

An amused scoff escaped MC, “Sure.”

“What? I’m not that bad at cooking.” Sebastian took on a false air of offence.

MC only stared at him with raised eyebrows, waiting for him to face what they both knew to be the truth.

Sebastian sighed, before letting out a light chuckle, “Yeah, you’re right. I’m a bloody menace in the kitchen.”

MC joined in his laughter, when a knock resounded at the front door, signalling the arrival of their guests. MC, instinctively moving to rise and greet them, felt Sebastian's firm hand gently but decisively press on her shoulder, urging her to stay seated.

"What did I tell you? Don’t you even dare think about standing up." He sternly ordered her. Concern etched his features as he looked into her eyes, silently pleading her to prioritise her well-being.

Sebastian then rose to answer the door. Their friends, adorned in festive attire, entered with smiles that instantly brightened the room. MC, who was still seating in the living room, could hear greetings and laughter from afar. After giving them all a hug, Sebastian directed his gaze towards his wife, giving her a knowing look. MC nodded to let him know she understood, then watched him slip away discreetly upstairs, when she was startled by a bundle of vigour hurtling towards her.

"Aunt MC!" Anne and Ominis' daughter shouted. MC had not seen her since the first of September, when she and the rest of the family had accompanied the little girl to Hogwarts for her first year there. With two Slytherin parents, and Salazar Slytherin's blood in her veins, she had been sorted into the green house with no surprises.

“Estelle, Merlin's beard! You look stunning!” MC took the little girl in her arms and kissed her on the cheek before releasing her. “Give me a twirl, so I can see your beautiful dress.”

Estelle did as she was told, showing off her knee-length blue and white windowpane dress, which had a white Claudine collar and ruffles at the bottom of the skirt.

“My, my!” MC exclaimed while admiring her niece. “All the boys at Hogwarts must be pursuing you.”

“I've got a friend. His name is Henry… I think he's cute.” The girl admitted shyly.

“Promise to tell me everything later?” MC asked, extending her pinkie finger towards her.

Estelle nodded eagerly, holding out her own little finger to seal the promise.

With that done, MC turned to her son, who had yet to notice the presence of guests, so engrossed was he in his colouring, “Theo, have you seen who's arrived?”

“Auntie and Unkie!” The boy abruptly dropped his crayons and ran towards them at full speed.

“My favourite nephew!” Anne lifted him up and took him in her arms. “Say, you've grown up again! You'll soon be taller than me!”

As for Ominis, he approached the sofa to lean over his friend, “So, MC, are we not worthy enough for you to get up and say hello to us?”

“Healer Sebastian put me on sofa rest.” She joked to play down the situation. “I had a dizzy spell earlier, and you know what he's like: always worrying about nothing.”

Before Ominis could respond, Theo climbed onto his mother's lap, “Mummy! Mummy! Now that Auntie, and Unkie, and Estelle are here, is Father Christmas coming?”

“Oh well, I reckon he won't be long now.”

On cue, another knock resounded at the door.

“Maybe that's him!”

Her lady-of-the-house reflexes took hold of MC, who was on her feet in an instant to open the door. On the other side, white-haired Father Christmas was waiting on the porch, wearing his red coat and hat trimmed with white fur.

“Theo, look who's here!” MC summoned her son.

Only the young boy’s loud gasp was heard in the room, his face lighting up with delight at the unexpected arrival of Father Christmas himself, carrying a sack full of presents, and displaying a wide smile beneath the snowy white beard.

"Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas!" Father Christmas – or rather Sebastian transfigured into an impressively convincing version of him – exclaimed heartily. "Are there any children who are on the nice list in this house?"

Theo, eyes wide with excitement, approached Father Christmas eagerly. "Me! Father Christmas, I've been really good this year! I even ate all my vegetables!" he declared proudly.

Sebastian chuckled with a deep, jolly voice, and handed him two enormous gifts, "That's excellent, Theo! Keep up the good work, my young friend."

Wide-eyed with wonder, Theo opened his presents in record time. Inside the first was a giant stuffed Common Welsh Green dragon, and inside the second was a small broom suitable for a five-year-old, with a note saying 'Since you can't fly on your dragon'.

The cuddly toy had been MC's idea, as dragons were something Theo talked about all year round, while the broomstick had been Sebastian's idea, as he hoped his son would follow in his footsteps and join his future house's Quidditch team once he got to Hogwarts. They all watched as the young boy was thrilled by his two gifts. He smiled and laughed, unable to contain his excitement. Theo's joy was contagious.

This encouraged Sebastian to continue to distribute gifts, "Estelle, sweetie! My elves have told me nothing but good things about you this year! I've heard that your first year at Hogwarts is going wonderfully well, and that you have a particular interest in Potions. I'm very proud of you."

"Thank you, Father Christmas." Estelle played along for her young cousin's sake, even though she knew perfectly well that it was her uncle underneath the red and white suit.

In turn, Estelle received a large gift containing a set of cauldrons of different metals and sizes, as well as two smaller packages containing numerous ingredients, and manuals containing various potion recipes. It was the perfect apprentice potioneer's kit.

"I still don't know where she got her love of potions from. Certainly not from me." Ominis mumbled under his breath, making Anne laugh.

Father Christmas continued the merry gift-giving for the other guests, taking his role to heart and revelling in the joyous atmosphere. But Sebastian being Sebastian, he could not resist a playful aside to his wife, who was watching the festive scene unfold, "I've heard from your husband you've been a naughty girl. You didn’t stay seated like he told you."

MC took great pleasure in playing along with him, "My husband doesn't know what he's talking about. He just worries too much."

Sebastian narrowed his eyes at his wife through his little round Father Christmas glasses, "Now, that's not something a good girl would say about her husband, is it?"

"I'll make it up to him tonight. I promise I'll be a really good girl." She smirked, the hint of mischief in her eyes obvious.

Even through his thick white curly beard, MC could see his Adam's apple bobbing heavily. It took Sebastian a moment to get back into character, "Will you? Well, in that case, I think Father Christmas has a special gift for you too, my dear."

With a theatrical flourish, he presented her a beautifully wrapped box. Curiosity sparkled in MC's eyes as she accepted the gift. She carefully unwrapped it, revealing a delicate necklace with a pendant shaped like a snowflake, each branch encrusted with small diamonds which sparkled brightly in the festive lights.

"I thought it would be a fitting reminder of all the magical Christmas moments we've shared together over the years." Sebastian explained in a whisper.

Touched by the thoughtful gesture, MC smiled warmly at Sebastian, "Thank you, Father Christmas. It’s perfect.”

“There's another surprise underneath to go with it.”

MC realised that the box did indeed have a false bottom. She lifted it and was surprised to find a set of arctic blue lingerie, entirely see-through apart from a lace flake to cover the most intimate areas.

She quickly closed the box to avoid anyone seeing, and shook her head, although she could not wipe the big amused grin off her face, "You're incorrigible. Now go and change yourself back before your son notices you're not here."

“Yes, ma’am.”

After explaining that he had other families to visit, Father Christmas said goodbye to everyone, especially to young Theo, who was the happiest to see him. MC claimed that she was going to see him to the door, but in fact followed him outside.

MC closed the door behind her, and stepped out into the winter cold, “Your transfiguration was extremely impressive. You're getting better at it every year.”

“I'm glad you liked it.” Sebastian smiled.

She took a step towards him and rested her hands on his chest. It was bizarre that he was so much chubbier than usual. Even if she knew it was him, it did not feel like her husband, “I didn't like it as much as my present. Thank you very much, truly.”

“If you wanna thank me, you can wear your present tonight and keep your promise.” He winked at her.

MC stood on her tiptoes and planted a tender kiss on her husband's lips, still transfigured as Father Christmas. Even though she was used to feeling his usual beard against her skin when she kissed him daily, she was still tickled by his new thick, greying moustache. But that did not make the kiss unpleasant, on the contrary. Proof of this was that they continued kissing until they were interrupted by someone clearing their throat in the doorway.

“You're lucky it was me who saw you, and not Theo. He would have been traumatised. Anyway, I came to tell you to hurry back. If you take too long, Theo will suspect something, even if he's ecstatic about his dragon.” Estelle admonished them before returning to the living room as quickly as she had come.

Sebastian was rendered speechless for a moment, “…Did you also feel like it was Ominis talking?”

“Yup, this kid's really becoming too much like her father... but she's right though.” MC took out her wand and tapped Sebastian on the shoulder with the tip. In the blink of an eye, he was back to his normal appearance and attire. “You're more handsome this way. Come on, let's get back inside.”

No sooner had they returned to the living room than Theo ran to his father and wrapped his arms around his leg.

“Daddy! Have you seen Father Christmas? He was so nice!”

“Of course, he was.” Sebastian replied with amusement at how oblivious his son was. He had been so enthralled by Father Christmas and his presents, that he had not even noticed that his father had been absent for several long minutes.

“Honey.” MC called out to him, instantly drawing his attention. “I also have a gift for you.”

She handed him a carefully wrapped package, adorned with a ribbon that matched the holiday décor, to which was attached a label with 'For the man who makes every Christmas magical' beautifully handwritten on it.

His curiosity piqued, Sebastian eagerly unwrapped the present. Revealed within a long black Auror uniform robe. He already had plenty, so he could not really understand why his wife was gifting him with another one.

“I've upgraded it with Kneazle fur and Diricawl feathers so that it has multiple Protection Charms. It also enhances the power of your spells to increase the damage you inflict on your opponents. Normally, nothing can happen to you with this!” MC announced cheerfully.

Sebastian's eyes met hers, and in that shared gaze, he recognised the depth of the sentiment behind the thoughtful gift, “Someone's worrying about me.”

“Of course I worry about you! You’re the most competent Auror there is, so they put you on all the most dangerous cases, and it's going to be even worse now that you've been promoted to Head of the Auror Office.” MC grumbled, seeming somewhat offended by Sebastian's reaction to her gift.

He hurried to take her in his arms and place a kiss on the top of her head, which seemed to be sufficient to calm her down, “I’m only teasing you, love. I love it, and I'll wear it every time I go on a mission. It’s perfect, just like you.”

The festive glow lingered as MC, Sebastian, and the rest of the family continued to revel in the warmth of the holiday spirit. The exchange of gifts had created an atmosphere of shared joy, and as the afternoon unfolded, they transitioned to the dining table, where an array of delectable dishes prepared by MC awaited. Laughter and conversation intertwined with the clinking of glasses and the clatter of cutlery against plate.

As the clock ticked on, Anne, Ominis and Estelle, reluctant to bid farewell to the enchanting family gathering, did not leave until late in the night, well after the usual bedtime for little Theo, who was by no means tired. Fuelled by the excitement of the festivities, he gave his parents an unexpectedly difficult challenge about agreeing to go to bed.

“Alright, I've finally got him to sleep.” Sebastian announced triumphantly as he descended the stairs to the living room.

“How did you do it?” MC asked from the sofa where she was sitting, drinking pumpkin juice.

He laughed, “I told him that the quicker he fell asleep, the quicker he'd wake up and be able to fly on his broomstick.”

MC joined in his laughter, albeit ruefully. Her smile seemed forced because it did not reach her eyes, which were shifty and preferred to remain fixed on the glass in her hands.

"What's the matter, darling? You're acting different." Sebastian asked with genuine concern as he sat down beside her and placed a comforting hand on her knee.

MC jumped up from the sofa at the touch, as if his contact had burnt her, "I – uhm... I have another present for you. I'm kind of nervous to give it to you. That's why I wanted to wait until we were alone."

As she stood in front of Sebastian, she consequently took out her wand and pointed it at one of the cabinets in the living room to open one of the drawers and take out a small rectangular box – about the size of a paperback book – which she made float towards her. Once the object was in her hands, she stared at it hesitantly, then took a deep breath before shoving the package into Sebastian's hands, who was still sitting on the sofa.

"But I only got you one present." Sebastian says, inspecting the present wrapped in red wrapping paper and adorned with a thick, glittery gold ribbon.

"No, you gave me two. Just because they were in the same box doesn't mean it counts as one gift. So we're even." She tried as best she could to reassure him, despite her own nerves, which had been frayed for several days now. "Now, open it."

Sebastian untied the ribbon and removed the lid. Inside he found a pair of white woollen knitted bootees. Under his wife's apprehensive gaze, he froze in silence for a long moment, trying to make sense of this original gift.

"I knitted them myself.” MC said in a small voice to break the agonising silence.

“They're very well made, but… You know, I think Theo already doesn't fit into these anymore." Sebastian joked in an attempt to ease the awkwardness between them.

MC choked back a strained laugh, "That's probably because they're not for Theo."

"Who're they for, then?" He asked with an uncomprehending frown, holding the bootees in his hands.

MC did not say a word. She simply looked at him with a nervous smile, patiently waiting for the realisation to hit him. When it eventually did, it was like he had been struck by lightning. He, who had always been cool-headed and knew how to remain composed even in the worst circumstances – even more so now that he had all his years as an Auror behind him – was currently speechless, and his eyes widened to such an extent that MC feared they would burst out of their sockets.

"You're pregnant?" Sebastian questioned, bewildered.

MC only nodded in response, as she had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop the tears welling up. Ever since she had seen a Healer to confirm her suspicions, she had dreaded the moment when she would break the news in turn, letting all sorts of doubts go to her head.

Now that the cat was out of the bag, and she could see her husband looking at her with wide, amazed eyes, she could no longer fathom how she had ever doubted him. How could she have ever thought that he would be anything but supportive to her?

"You're pregnant." He repeated again with a beaming smile, but this time it was not a question. It was a statement to himself, while he was still trying to process the information that had knocked him for six by how unexpected it was.

It seemed to do the trick to snap him out of his daze, as he jumped to his feet, his exuberance evident in the way he pulled MC into his arms. He lifted her off the ground and swirled her around in the air, a whirlwind of happiness and love. MC giggled, caught up in the infectious joy radiating from him. Laughter echoed through the room as they shared a dance of sheer delight, celebrating the beautiful journey that lay ahead of them.

"Oh, MC! That's... I don’t even have the words to describe how fabulous this is!" He exclaimed excitedly as he put her down on the ground and rested a gentle hand on her stomach. "We're gonna have another little one of our own."

"We are." MC confirmed, wrapping her fingers around his wrist and giving it a little squeeze, as if to assure him that it was all real.

"So that's why you got dizzy this morning!" Sebastian's eyes lit up with pride at having put the pieces together. However, that did not last long, because his realisation erased any trace of eagerness and replaced it with worry that made his face fall. "Bloody hell, MC! You cooked all morning while being pregnant. You should’ve let me do it. I'm your husband, you can– no, you must rely on me. I promise I'll be more present from now on, so that you can rest more."

Without further ado, he gently forced MC to sit back down on the sofa with him, so that she would not be even more tired after such a long day. She had to take it easy now that she was carrying their child, the proof of their unconditional love.

Sebastian was committed to being as doting as he could, to pampering his wife even more than he already was. So when MC suddenly burst into tears for no apparent reason, it was only natural for Sebastian to panic and try to work out what was wrong.

"What is it? Did I say something wrong?" He asked worriedly, immediately grabbing her hands.

"No. No, you’re perfect as always... But I was so scared to tell you." She replied in between sobs. "We've been so busy since we had Theo that we've never discussed whether we wanted a second child, plus you've just been promoted so you're going to have a lot of work coming up... I just didn't think it was the right time. I was scared you wouldn't be pleased with the news.”

Still holding her hands, Sebastian brought them to his mouth to place sweet kisses to her knuckles, “MC, I'll have as many children as you're willing to give me, whatever the circumstances.”

“So you're happy?” She asked him in a trembling voice, her big doe eyes full of tears.

It broke Sebastian's heart to see her like this, but he knew he had to get used to it, because this was just the beginning of the hormonal mood swings, "Very much so. You couldn't make me happier for Christmas."

He lovingly kissed away the tears on her cheeks, until none trickled down any more, and MC flung herself at him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers tangling into his soft hair, and he gladly hugged her back, holding her (and his future child) close to him.

Their embrace conveyed the depth of their joy, and all the unshakable love that bound them together. In that magical moment, as their hearts beat in harmony with the joyous news, the room seemed to overflow with the warmth of their connection. The hug lingered, a silent celebration of the love that had brought them to this beautiful chapter in their lives, while Sebastian whispered sweet words in MC's ear.

"We're gonna be one big happy family." He murmured while caressing her hair soothingly.

"I know."

Feeling a surge of emotions that mere words could not capture, MC gently pulled away from the hug. Her eyes, filled with a profound love, locked onto Sebastian's chocolate ones. In those perfect eyes, the ones she never wanted to look away from, she saw the promise of many more beautiful memories and wonderful Christmases to come.

A simple 'I love you' was nowhere near enough to convey how unconditionally enamoured she was with him. Words seemed insufficient to express the depth of her feelings. Instead, she chose a language that transcended the limitations of speech. She leant in, closing the distance between them, and pressed a tender, lingering kiss upon his lips.

The kiss spoke volumes—of gratitude, of connection, and of a love that could overcome any ordeal. It was a tender yet fervent gesture, a silent proclamation of the emotions that resonated within their hearts. As they shared the soft, meaningful kiss, the room seemed to hold its breath, enveloping them in the timeless language of love.

Sebastian, understanding the unspoken sentiments, responded with a warmth that mirrored her profound affection, even though he was the first to break the kiss and choose this moment of vulnerability to lay bare his heart.

“I adore you, Mrs. Sallow. Truly and desperately. Thank you for always making the happiest man alive.”

MC could not help but dive back in to kiss the lips that, for ten years now and until her last breath, she called home.

[cynthia39100]

Merlin rewatch -- S2E13: The Last Dragonlord

Arthur didn't get to be King Arthur in s1 finale so I'm so happy to see him shine in this episode even though it's mostly Merlin's story. Arthur was doing all the work for once 😆 He had to fight in the front line, lead the army, report to the King and go on a manhunt mission.

“I know you’re tired, but make one last effort for me.” “Stay strong! For tonight is not your night to die I’ll make sure of that!”

A good commander from the very start~ Bradley gave the best inspirational words 💕 He just had a way made every word sound so genuine and grounded also effortless. Of course everyone would follow him to death at the end.

It’s like a mini round table moment XD. Arthur was so determined and charismatic. It’s a nice little character growth from the Arthur in another suicide mission -- the griffin, a scared young prince chased out to the battle field by his father.

It’s a significant scene because Arthur was commanding the knights in Uther’s presence, who already lost all hope and will to fight. Arthur was the king in all but name in this war against the dragon. He called all the actions and Uther had no way of interfering. Like when he insisted on going to find Balinor.

“It is our duty to find him.” “My concern is for Camelot.” I love how calm he was in the face of Uther’s opposition. This kind of thing came so naturally to him that he said them almost casually. His voice was even and gentle. A part of it was that he was too exhausted to have a shouting match. But also, it’s just a fundamental value for him to do everything in his power for his people. Uther’s loud order or tender concern wasn’t at all affecting him.

Merlin in the background was making some awesome faces too~ His face shone with amazement, either for Arthur’s goodness or how unfazed he was in front of Uther. Gorgeous.

[S2E13] [other episodes]

[anika-ann]

Ochraňuj me (Protect Me) - sneak peek

Pairing: Knight Steve Rogers x witch!reader Word count (peek): 600 previous installments: Pomiluj mě -Love Me Tender and Očaruj mě -Bewitch me

Warnings: mentions of death; plus you might be a tad lost if you haven't read the previous fics

He nuzzled his face in your hair, his chest expanding with a generous inhale, a steadying breath which made his heart race faster, as if attempting to outrun the very storm you had felt arriving.

You ran your hands down his broad back, feeling your own heart leaping into your throat as the silence between you, often so sweet and comforting, stretched ominously.

“Steven… love,” you whispered, attempting to shift in his embrace, only achieving his hold growing firmer, his muscles almost shaking with effort. Oh Steven… What terrible feat had been laid upon him? “What has happened?”

Finally releasing your body, his hands were quick to cradle your face instead, achingly gentle, even as his eyes roamed your face wordlessly, brimming with so much emotion it stirred your unease further.

“Rytier moj?”

Steven’s face softened minutely, thumbs stroking your cheekbones as tenderly as butterfly wings despite the power – or the lack of it – in his grip.

“My love…”

Lips curling in a tiny smile, you mirrored Steven’s affection, reaching to settle your palm against his cheek, fingers of your other carding through his hair; you heart fluttered when he leaned into your touch, a wavering breath escaping his lips before they pressed against your palm to sooth the scratch of his beard against your skin.

Despite the dulcet image he made, eyes fluttering close for a blissful moment of nothing but love shared, you felt his body pulse with anxious urgency seemingly seeping into your fingertips.

“I did not sleep well…” you confessed, his already pursed lips turning down. “I had a heavy feeling in me. Now I know the gods had not warned me simply for their own whims. What’s happened?”

Steven opened his eyes again; with a single caress of the breeze, he straightened, his aura of a knight – a fierce protector, a loyal friend, a humble determined servant – returning with its full force as did his worry.

“I need your help.”

A simple plea.

A simple answer.

“Always, rytier moj. Anything,” you promised.

One would expect relief to fill your lover’s features; instead, dread twisted them into a frown of dismay. Almost as if he had been hoping for your rejection.

Why?

The whisper of death among the trees grew louder, haunting, sending such a shudder through your body not even your lover’s warmth could hope to protect you from it, another urgent question scratching at the back of your mind.

Death, the trees seemed to whisper.

Whose death?

“Oh bosorka moja…”

Not Steven’s. Never. Not on your watch. Not as long as you walked this realm.

And not your child’s. You’d claw a throat open with your bare hands had anyone tried to take them away. Take her away. You had dreamed two nights prior, dreamed of a girl with Steven’s beautiful eyes and your hair caressed by the wind, her laughter filling the air as he sat her on his shoulders and she placed the daisy crown on his head-

The image had been so full of hope, so bright, so full of promise; it battled the current scent of death fiercely, one blending into another, and it felt you were stood in the middle.

Your choice. Your power. Your victory; or your loss.

You gulped, your gentle hold on Steven’s face growing shaky; with fear or the weight of responsibility, you weren’t sure.

“What is it, love? You are worrying me… come in. Tell me what weights down your-“

“Prince Anthony has been poisoned,” he said at last.

The whisper of the wind turned into a screech of a gale, even as the tree leaves and grass barely rustled.

Bringing drama, y'all! But don't kill me just yet!

...after all, there might be two parts, because have you met me?

May your September start well 💕

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Hi there! I hope you're having a great day! I want to ask you a question... or more like a suggestion. I had asked the same thing several weeks ago, so I assume you missed it. But if you don't want to answer is, that's okay! 😄

My question is simple. What do you think SDV / SVE (including the mages and adventurers) bachelor and bachelorette would reach upon knowing that the farmer, whom had a quiet, soft and gentle personality, is actually a seasoned fighter in an underground boxing match (and a really good one, at that!)?

Thank you very much for your attention! 💕

Don't worry, dear anon, I saw your previous ask! I was just busy and couldn't answer earlier (will write it here so I don't have to answer twice). Thanks for your ask! And enjoy! 💕

_________________________________________

SDV/SVE bachelors:

Gus had recently purchased a strength meter for his arcade corner, and Farmer had fallen in love with the machine, constantly spending their coins. And putting Elliott, who caught those moments, in complete shock. When the newcomer first came to town, they appeared to the writer as a kind and quiet-seeking person. Having learnt for their background, he would like to write about their biography.

So, all those rumours about an underground bare-knuckle champion who knocked out big guys with one punch - is Shane's tender spouse crying about a dried rose? Holy shit... He's totally shocked (and pleasantly surprised, for wow, his spouse is awesome. Why didn't they say this before?).

Alex spent the whole time defending Farmer from the overly annoying newcomers, thinking they were too shy and kind to be rude to anyone. And it turns out that not only can they stand up for themself, but they can send huge muscular fighters staring into the realm of dreams with one punch. The athlete will be surprised for sure. How? When?

Is that true? Is it really true? Farmer really is a boxing fighter, and a champion too?! That's so cool! Um... Sam wonders if his friend/spouse should mention this to his mom at a dinner (much less his dad). These fights aren't too legal after all... However, it's up to Farmer to decide if they'll talk about it or not. Either way, Farmer is an incredible and cool person. He certainly didn't expect this from them.

Poor Harvey didn't even have time to react to Farmer being bullied by some assholes from the big city before Farmer sent them all straight to his clinic. While the doctor was bringing them to their senses (and writing a complaint against them for bullying the locals), he wondered how Farmer, the kindest and calmest person, knew such hand-to-hand combat techniques. Underground fighting was the very last option doctor could think of.

One, two, three - and Farmer dealt with three drunken bullies who started harassing the locals and imposing their company. Everyone was in complete shock. Sebastian, meanwhile, freaking delighted with them. The stories of their nightly fights underground for the title of best boxer, in Sebby's opinion, added another coin to the Farmer's piggy bank of awesomeness.

Lance's guesses were correct - Farmer's behaviour in the fight with the monsters made it clear at once that they had to engage and defend themself often. The adventurer had never seen anyone previously beat a magma sprite with their fists alone. Lance is pleasantly surprised and delighted by his mysterious friend. But just in case, it's best to carry a sword.

Victor starts showering his friend/spouse with a whole bunch of questions right after Farmer decides to share their past. How did it happen? Did Farmer become a fighter because they wanted the title, or were there other reasons? Do they still fight to this day? Pardon him, but he's very interesting. Farmer certainly doesn't seem like the type of person who would pursue a top fighter title with blood on their fists.

The truth is, Magnus knew about Farmer's underground fighting. Well, not really, for his crystal ball only showed vague information about their past. Hm? Of course a Wizard can see the past, that fancy hat's not for show, you know. Though he wonders how a fighter like them changed their occupation 180 degrees and became first an office clerk and then a farmer.

SDV/SVE bachelorettes:

Penny learnt all about Farmer's past after they defended her from some cheeky Joja driver by fist-bumping him in the face. The teacher never expected Farmer to do such a thing, though she is grateful for their help. When asked casually where they learnt to fight, she got an even answer, which left her even more astonished.

Funny enough, when Farmer opened up to Emily about their constant nightly fights at the fight club, Emily felt proud of him. Pride because while they are strong, they treat those around them with kindness and patience. A bright aura radiates from them, and the new information about Emily's friend wouldn't make her change her attitude towards them for the worse somehow.

Maru hasn't heard much about these illegal fights in Zuzu City, but the title "Destroyer" speaks for itself. And Farmer has quite an interesting past, and she wouldn't mind hearing about it. The young inventor just hopes that all those titles and honours don't interfere in any way with her friend/spouse's job as a farmer, which they enjoy.

To Abigail, Farmer has become the most brutal and badass person on the planet. She knows about these fights! (Mostly just a gossip, not the actual fights). And the fact that it was Farmer who was the rumoured champion of underground fights made the purple-haired girl ecstatic. Man, it's a shame she can't brag to others about her friend/lover, as she doesn't want to get Farmer in trouble with the law.

"I never would have guessed, honestly. You don't look too athletic." Don't take Haley's words harshly, she didn't mean to offend Farmer. It's just that they really do look very unthreatening, so this information was a bit of a shock to her. Well, the girl now knows for sure that if she gets harassed, she can always ask her friend for help. Though she also doesn't want Farmer to be hurt either (she knows they're strong, but still).

This explains the fact that Farmer so easily knocked out Leah's ex when she and Farmer were on a date (even though Kel has always been weak). After Farmer shared about their past, she's naturally shocked, but the shock quickly changed to a look of adoration. A strong and resilient fighter who is the kindest and most ineterest person.... It is impossible not to fall in love with Farmer.

Claire was a bit taken aback by this information, because when she came to Zuzu City for some business, there were always some big guys standing near the underground, throwing dirty compliments and saying that they were "masters of boxing", so Claire "should definitely go with them". So the impression she had formed of such people was not a very good one. Farmer, on the other hand, is the gentlest and most sympathetic person, so it's a bit of a pattern breaker for her.

"I hope you don't have a list of detractors behind you." Sounds a little harsh from Olivia's lips, undeniably, but on the other hand, these things should be talked about beforehand. The former Joja accountant quizzes them about their fights and whether they "crossed anyone's path with their victories." Olivia isn't stupid, she knows what the consequences could be and doesn't want Farmer, her and her son to get hurt.

Sophia felt like she was behind a stone wall with Farmer earlier, and now that they've shared their stories about the club and their involvement, she's not afraid of anything at all. And most importantly, despite all those rumours of a tough and undefeated ring champion, Farmer remains the same kindhearted and cinnamon bun they've always been, hee hee!

Castle Village's mages and adventurers:

Hmm, Farmer has had some physical training before.... Alright, Isaac will be less suspicious of them. But still, fist fights aren't enough for the battle with monsters. Even pathetic green slimes can be a problem in this situation without any sword or dagger. They need practice with cold weapons as well.

Wow, Alesia didn't expect that the newest Guild member in Stardew Valley had entire titles in fist fighting behind them. Especially from someone she considered a pacifist and non-confrontational person. Strange why it wasn't listed anywhere on their report for them. While it's not "official" training on an adventurer, everyone's file should list all of their merits.

Secret underground fights for the Ultimate Fighting Championship title? *Chuckle* Why on earth would Farmer think it was a secret to Camilla? Oh, that's right, she's already learnt a lot about them, and their past... intrigues her. That explained their good physical fitness, despite their rather harmless appearance. Please tell her more about this battles~

Not to say that Jadu was much interested in Farmer's past, as they didn't know each other too well. But the rumour that Farmer had managed to learn how to fight in their rather young life inspires respect. The Castle Village mage thinks they had a reason to get into illegal fights, so he'll leave his questions at that. But wouldn't mind listening if Farmer is willing to tell their story.