#your drawing is so beautiful through wifey; HOW?!

[madame-fear]

VINCA

ITS GIVING THIS SUFKEKCKGK (w love because i ADORE your art😭💘)

I was supposed to draw the masculine face like the picture but…

Chad face for the win

[honestsycrets]

mío | baby-fever!miguel o'hara x wifey!reader

❛ pairing | miguel o'hara x wifey!reader, starved prequel

❛ type | oneshot, explicit

❛ summary | after watching mayday, miguel develops a bad case of baby fever, longing for a family of his own.

❛ tags | explicit, miguel has baby fever, babysitting, talk of family planning and contraception, f!reader, breeding, pregnancy kink, much fluff, some angst, starved!reader, miguel being frustrated and cute, clean that kitchen, one stereotype of latina women, Spanish is not translated, best friend!peter, self edited.

❛ request fulfilled | could you possibly write an imagine in which Miguel and his wife take care of mayday? + multiple requests for more starved reader/miguel.

❛ sy's notes | written to fulfill some requests. i do have another daddy miguel blurb to fulfill, but my future works should be nice and angsty.

Peter has it out for him.

It’s the only logical reason why he’d do this shit to him.

Miguel stood in his dark room in a pair of scratchy jeans, dragging a belt loop to loop when he heard the door to his room draw open. A resonant schwap, schwap, schwap.

“Mi reina?” Miguel cocked his eyebrow up, extending his claws.

“¿Sí?” you called back from the bathroom, the distant scent of his favorite perfume wafting into the air. Miguel threw a look to the bathroom, reaching for the bedroom door. It burst open before he could open it. 

“Hi, Miguel! Where’s your wife?”

Peter dragged his feet into the room, whirling around with a sloppily put-together backpack that leaked diapers onto the floor. An exasperated breath left his lips, dripping in the way he looked at Peter.

Unfortunately, his little wife liked Peter a bit too much for his taste.

“I should have known.” Miguel ran his hand through his hair, strands of mocha brown flyaways wisping along his tawny forehead. “Why are you here?”

His normally disheveled appearance was a little more disheveled. It wasn’t his appearance that bothered him but how it reached his eyes. Shocked, confused, tired. Peter pat his deltoid, awkward laughter choking in his throat. It bubbled on the edge of an overwhelmed sob.

“Well, you see, your wife said she’d watch Mayday because I have a date, and I haven’t had a date in a really, really long time. Like, a really long time—”

“Is Peter here?”

His head snapped to your bathroom where you came out, threading a golden hoop earring. You probably already knew the fight that was heading your way-- but for your part, you couldn’t be bothered to care any less.

“Got it, you need this date.” Miguel cut Peter off, standing behind you with his massive arms crossed. “¿Por qué no me dijiste?”

“¡Mi nena! Muévete Miguel,” you giggled, shoving your way past Miguel to Peter’s child carrier, sneaking your hands underneath her little armpits and whirling her around. She cackled, a glittering warmth to her mischievous eyes. You came to a stop, settling Mayday against your chest, nuzzling your foreheads together in some secret pact that the two of you shared.

Oh no, no, no, no. Not this. It hits him at once.

The sight of his wife— beautiful and cuddly with a very young baby in her arms. The only sight more beautiful was at the altar on his wedding day, your shy smile behind a sheer veil. It had been a long time, too long, since he had someone to call him father. He can still picture her glimmering eyes, the way she looked at him in nothing short of admiration, looking past the things that he’d done to see him and only him. Glimpsing at Mayday, remembering Gabriella’s soft, small face, it took him a moment to snap free. 

He's so fucked.

“You would have said no, amado mío.” 

You’re a natural at this, scooting by both men to set Mayday on the bed. Your tiny fingers spiraled out from her belly to change her diaper. Peter jittered uncomfortably, looking as though he wanted to jump in himself. You cleaned her, replacing the dirty diaper with a clean one. “We’re going to a market with Tío Miguel--” 

“Don’t bring me into this.”

“Are you sure it's okay? I’ll be back at five, it's just a few hours, really--” 

“¡Vete! A ratty house robe and a dirty spider suit aren’t sexy. Look at mi Miggy,” now you’re just buttering him up. He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, inspecting the ground. “Wear something nice.” 

They’re sexy to her, he might have murmured. Not on a date, you bopped him. Mayday’s bright eyes tracked the space between you and Peter before you broke away to wash your hands. Peter’s clammy hands cupped Mayday’s sweet face, littering at least a dozen sickly daddy kisses over her tiny face. But Miguel what if--

“Adiós, Peter!” You returned to force Peter out of your room. Miguel peered at Mayday whose head snapped to the side, cheek against her fiery hair as the door clicked shut. He braced himself for the shrill that would inevitably come with her realization that her daddy was gone. She whined, grabbing her toes and tipping nearly off the side of the bed. Miguel begrudgingly hovered at her feet, blocking her from rolling off the bed. He could do this, he told himself, he could resist those giant baby eyes staring up at him.

He didn't need a baby, he didn't.

He blames Peter for having such a good baby.

She doesn’t ask for much other than requiring chest-to-chest contact with Miguel. It’s not that he doesn’t want to hold her, he finds himself aggravated by how much he likes to be around her. In a market full of things to look at food trinkets such as necklaces, body scrubs, and empanadas, it’s all her. Miguel props her up with an arm just under her bum, her tiny finger peeking curiously into his fangs. He snapped his teeth playfully at her, a nip, nip, nip, missing playfully every time. It rips ping a toothy grin across her face. 

“No biting Miguelito,” you called out, sliding your fingers in a teasing ring around his muscled back to chest. You leaned up on your tippy toes, placing a small little kiss on his lips. You ran off to go get her a pineapple whip after her tiny fist yanked your hair over and over again. You relented, staring at what she was cooing at. Sweets-- obviously, sweets. All the little ones loved sweets. 

“She likes it.” 

“Ya sé,” you said, “But we don’t need anyone noticing you’ve grown fangs.” 

“Tch,” he clicks his teeth in protest. She does too, throwing you a mean look for interrupting her fun. You plucked up a bit of the whip on your spoon, cutting through her displeasure through the power of sugar. 

"There's a lot of people here, Miggy, let's go to the park." You point toward the park, pointing away from the mounds of fresh produce and locally sourced goods toward a healthy patch of green grass. Miguel is glad-- he’s sick of being stared at for his huge frame. Despite the ring on his finger, people still seem to try their luck. He couldn't be more disinterested.

You lay a picnic blanket as Miguel holds Mayday's treat. Mayday sprawls across his chest, trying to take just one more bite-- then another-- Miguel looks down, chin level, eyebrow raised. She offers a bit on her tiny index finger to Miguel. A peace offering. “She’s not going to wait.” 

“Give her to me.” You kicked off your sandals on the edge of the blanket, dropping your things on another corner. You pluck Mayday from Miguel’s arms and set her down on the blanket in a way that is too easy. As though you wouldn’t have much of a learning curve in becoming a mother. No, no— you never mentioned anything about kids. Did you even want kids? He couldn't bring his heart to ask, to hope again.

“I didn’t know you were so experienced with kids.” 

“Mami had six,” you noted, plopping down with the whip by Mayday’s side. She sat with a small slant, reaching out toward the sweet treat again with those chunky, adorable hands. You brought her into your lap, at last relenting. “When you’re the oldest, you have to learn a little something to help out. Can you imagine-- being pregnant six times? Ay no.”

“How many times do you want to be pregnant?” he blurts out. Usually timed and precise, the question causes him to pinch his brow as he sits beside you. “Si quieres,” 

Your other hand comes on top of his and shifts it away from his face. 

“As many as will make you happy.” 

Shock. He chews on that response, his eyes glued to Mayday lapping at the last spoon of sweets you are willing to give her. She falls into a fit of complaints, a conniving look at the sweets, just as you lift her onto your shoulder.

"I never thought about it."

"No more, your papa won't forgive me if I bring you home all sugared up," you tsked your tongue at her. You patted along her back in small, tight circles until her angry huffs faded away. He reaches for the baby bag, slipping free a soft yellow blanket with white spiders strewn across the front. Miguel slides the blanket on top of Mayday’s small body, her groggy eyes sliding closed.

The more he watches you with Mayday, holding her so close, swaying as you held her, the deeper this ache burrowed in his chest. You would look beautiful all swollen with his child. Never mind Mayday or Peter, he can nearly see it, feel it under his fingers, the feeling of your taut belly under his skin, or the kick of tiny feet against his palm.

“We’ll see, Miggy.” 

We’ll see-- the answer seems too noncommittal, too distant to be a satisfactory answer. With Mayday sound asleep, you settle her between your plush thighs. She expelled bursts of energy that milked her energy dry.

A little old woman passed by, her cane pierced soft grass as she moved closer with a bag of tomatoes and green beans. Her face, aged by time, pulls into a wide smile. He doesn't like her smile.

“You two are doing a great job. How old is she?” 

You blink, looking up into the woman’s cool blue eyes, her dark hair peppered with thick grey and white strands. You tuck Mayday in her soft blanket, sparing the woman a kind smile that Miguel doesn’t quite have the patience for. 

“Oh, oh. Thank you-- um, a couple of months,” you recount, perhaps thinking of Peter’s anxious pacing or his delighted shouts about becoming a father. 

“Adopting is a great option. Back in the day, my husband was a bodybuilder too. Had a low sperm count don’t you know. Steroids shrink things. Oh, but these days you can do all sorts of things like IV--”

A what-- Miguel’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull at the suggestion. Was this old bitch’s suggestion that he couldn’t do it-- couldn’t get you pregnant? He could easily do that. If he wanted you pregnant, you would be shocking pregnant. He’d be damned if some old woman put it in your mind that he couldn’t.

“We’re babysitting for a friend,” he blurts out. “I have--” had, “a daughter.” 

“Oh, do you? I’m sorry. I thought-- well, it doesn’t matter what I thought, have a good day."  

She’s saying that, but it comes out slanted. You don’t bother correcting Miguel, not on this. Rather, your hand inched toward his, picking up on the energy that was pluming from his body in waves. Irritation-- annoyance-- the little old lady hobbles off. You’re in your mind well enough to bid her goodbye. But you know better than to say anything more, slumping your cheek on Miguel’s firm chest. It makes the ache of Gabriella's memory a little more bearable. 

 Low sperm count his ass. 

It bothers him long after Mayday is gone. Peter, for his part, looks refreshed. He supposes that’s what happens with a full day of opportunity to empty your balls after weeks of no relief. It bothers him long after you come back from the kitchen, his favorite dark red slip plastered to your perfect body. It would look beautiful, full of his children— he just knows it. 

“I may have hijacked the kitchen a little bit,” you teased, the waft of warm chicken and brewed spices filled his nose. He had no appetite. “But I made you some pollo guisado.” 

“Hm,” he grunts into a pillow. “Later.”

Beside the bed, he has a bowl of brightly colored condoms. With your sensitivity to birth control, it is the best option available. It wasn’t, however, something he was ever happy about. He should be able to feel your body. Not once had he felt your body pure and unadulterated, warm and perfect for him. He was your husband. He wanted that moment— to fill you up just once, watch his cum dribble out of your cunt. It would be perfect. You set the food away, bowl and spoon clinking together.

“Miguel.” 

Forget your warm body. This room is too quiet. It is almost stifling in its silence. Mayday’s sweet huffs, the memory of Gabriella’s laughter. A proper home full of a child's giggles. He’s going crazy-- he has to be-- this isn’t normal. This isn’t Miguel. 

“Mi vida, don’t pout,” you reach out, rolling your fingers through his long brown hair. Your fingers tease along his scalp, turning around his ear. Your fingers tickle his lobe, your voice cemented in a concern that he wanted nothing more but to fix if it were anything other than this. “Miggy. Miggy, what is wrong? You look sad.”

“I’m not sad,” he says with a whine on his pillow. How silly he must look with his broad arms wound around the body pillow, squeezing its fluff for life. If he said the words well enough, you might believe them. 

“I know you are,” you nudge the pillow loose. He takes you instead, the air thickening with the closeness. You fed off the tension, sliding your leg over the sheet that covers his naked hip. “Tell me why.” 

He turns his hands over your thighs, traveling past your hips to ghost along your belly. 

“Sí, Miggy?” 

“I need…” he trailed off, finding the words nearly impossible to admit. They grow into a ball and cement in his throat, present but stubborn. Rather than break the words free, he swallows a bolus of desire and frustration. “It’s nothing. Let it go.”

The issue was— you loved him enough to let it do so. 

Miguel doesn’t want to press the issue. He knows you. All you want is Miguel’s happiness. Sometimes, he worries it is at the price of your own. The distance he places between you and him is intolerable. It bothers him every time he finds you babysitting Mayday.

Today, while Peter goes on a small date, you and Mayday make his favorite empanadas. She’s covered in a dusting of flour from head to toe. Peter would have fun with that. 

“Miggy you’re back?” you called as Mayday’s chubby hands shot out, nearly plopping off the counter if not for Miguel’s quick reflexes, setting her back in place. 

“Empanadas?” he settles the words in a small kiss to your lips. You glance at him over your shoulder. 

“It's... it's Gabi's birthday, isn't it?"

You’re too good for him. Despite the day coming and going, no one else notices his grief today. Not even Peter who came in alongside him, reading the room, and snatching up Mayday off the countertop. He’s babbling something, a thank you, see you later— you kiss Mayday with only the sweetness a mother could know.  

“Peter! Mayday made these for you,” you reach out to a box of uncooked empanadas. “Take them home!”

Her first empanadas— the delight is palpable. Peter may have snapped a photo, or ten, of his little flour girl on the way out, empanadas in hand. Then there’s silence. Miguel returns the nearly forgotten bundle of empanada dough and filling to the fridge in the space of unspoken tension. Miguel dips down to your neck, caramelized perfume warm on your neck. His lips trace the warm pulse of your neck. 

“Mami,” his voice mesmeric, warm like the filling you used to make him happy when no one else could. Your doting attention, even in the face of real issues like work and babies, was always on him.

"Sí, mi vida?"

His hands coast around your waist, using his strength to gently turn you around. It isn’t important right now. What is important is how he lifts you up onto the floury surface, purring his need into your slight ear. “I want a baby.”

“¿Qué?”

“Una niña,” Miguel leans his fingers along your collarbone. 

“Oh, Miggy.” You puff the words. They come out almost wounded. You know him so well, the vulnerability of the words causing him to look down. Your warm palms cradle his cheeks, forcing him to look into your eyes. “You miss being a father, don't you?”

You’re not stupid. Neither is he. He thought he could wait— watch Mayday grow up and not feel this sundering longing. As though he could stomach never feeling a child in his arms again. The ghosts of the past that came with Mayday’s longing haunt him day by day. 

You devour his insecurity, winding your legs around his waist and forcing him forward. He stumbles into your embrace, as though he were not a man who could decimate villains and spiders alike. When he was here, in your arms, he barely felt like the weapon of a man that he is. 

“Miguel. Speak to me.”

“You’re right,” he can’t lie— can’t hide the longing that comes with the thought of his own child on his chest. Not Mayday, no matter how many times she cuddled up to his chest. At the end of the day, she would never be his. You drew your lip into your mouth, nipping it fat and red, a bob in your head. His heart beats faster, strumming as though it would break free from his chest. Whatever it is you’re thinking he’s not sure. Only that it’s been so long.

“I just want to make you happy, will this make you happy?” you nearly whisper, knowing that there’s no one but him to hear the words. It’s what he wants for you, too. As he stands there, coursing his fingers along your thighs and hiking your dress up your hips, he can’t help but feel the foggy discomfort of forcing you into parenthood before you were ready. 

“It will.”

As well as it could. It would never erase Gabriella-- and, in the vulnerability of begging his wife for another child, came the guilt. Not only the guilt of failing to be a proper father or to protect her but moving on without her in his life to a beautiful family she would have loved. The feelings surge in his chest, a well of uncomfortable emotions in his eyes, threatening to fall. 

“Miguel,” you’re whispering, your fingers cutting across his sharp cheekbones. You cup his face, drawing your lips together in a commanding kiss. You never liked being ignored or forgotten. He’s not sure how he could now, with your tongue flicking between his lips, begging him to come back with a sugary sweet whine. “Stay with me, Miguel.” 

“I am,” he says, gripping either side of the counter by your hips. He feels your eyes on him, soft and careful, pressuring him to meet your gaze. He searches for an inkling of an answer in your gaze. "¿Qué piensas?"

“We can try,” you bite your lip, sliding it free between your teeth. “If you don’t have a low sperm count,” you tease. “Maybe it’ll take.” 

“¡Por dios!” He throws a curse to the side as if he believed in such a being, throwing a look back at you. “You don’t actually believe that vieja.” 

“Ay Miggy, of course not.” His lips work into a budding smile. You leaned up against his stubbly jaw, setting soft kisses there. Your lipstick stains his neck, dragging down to his prominent adam’s apple. He looks down at you with heady eyes, tracing the way you suckled a mark on his throat. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like them a little more when others noticed them, little marks of possession. Miguel’s fingers come up to the straps of your dress, easing them over and down your slight shoulders. You pull back, words forming puff against his neck. 

“Not right here,” you inhale a soft breath. “Someone could come in.” 

Miguel eases his finger over the small bud of your breast, rolling his thumb along the silken skin, His hand comes up, encompassing your neck and shoving you back into the cabinets. It isn’t comfortable, not by far. He works the nub to its peak before turning his attention to the other. His mouth covers your breast, fangs grazing your nub as he suckled and tugged gently. Miggy, you pull him back up, stripped of your touch. Your hand slide across Miguel’s chest, tracing the taut muscles of his chest. 

“Who would come in?” 

“Peter,” you answer. 

It’s always Peter. He supposes that you wouldn’t want your friend to see you here, cunt stuffed with Miguel on the very same counter you earlier made him empanadas on. Miguel snatched the dress that fell along your hips laxly, utilizing it to yank you off the counter. You fell forward into Miguel, a heavy wall of muscle, your lips failing to form anything of use. You looked at him, cheeks flush and eyes doting, he’s the only one you see. 

“The balcony, then.” 

“Dianche, Miguel! Do you want all of Nueva York to see me?” 

“Maybe.” 

No, but see Miguel breeding you? Undoubtedly yes.

He couldn’t simply choose the bed, that would be too easy. Miguel set a kiss on your forehead, soft and scratchy with his stubble. You return it by dragging him down for another kiss, a wave of warmth coming over him as you force your hips back onto him, rolling your hips against his, teasing him. Miguel doesn’t appreciate the tease and gently pushes on your hips, motioning you to face the counter. 

“Bend over.” 

"Can't we go to my room?" you complain but comply all the same. Miguel’s palm ghosts your spine, dragging his fingers smoothly over the middle of your back and past the dress that gathered around your hips, He strips you of the little cover the dress gave, eager to have you bare and rid of the thin clothing that served as a veil from prying eyes. Miguel can cover you from the prying eyes of others if necessary. Not that he cared if others saw him fucking-- he’s all the more eager to have you all to himself, here and now. 

“No panties,” he notes, his warm hands on your inner thighs. “It’s almost like you knew.” 

“I might have,” you return, spreading your legs obediently for him. He palms your vulva, your hips shifting down over his hand. Sticky and wet, he wonders if his need to breed you has rubbed off on you too. His fingers shift, sliding over your soft hole. “Apúrate Miguel, you’re so slow.”  

“Can’t you be be good for once.”

You were always bossy. He likes it, most the time, being led around by what his pretty little wife wants. Today he wants to take his time, curving his broad fingers into your glistening cunt. Your wetness drips over his knuckles, fingers teasing the velvety soft walls he has never felt without a condom. A pleasured cry wracks in your chest, turning your head over your shoulder to watch Miguel’s fingers stretching you out. No matter how much your walls gave under his fingers, you would still ache when he penetrated you. It was the favourite part, the rich pull of his dick into your hole, bottoming out as best he could in your stomach. He soothes your complaints by grazing his other hand against your perky clitoral hood, finding the soft nub there for relief. You settle your arms on the floured surface.

“I never-- ah-- am,” you threw back.

Miguel slipped his fingers free, cupping your cunt with his palm for a teasing slap. You want to be good-- it’s just so hard, your cunt pulsing in the abswnce of his touch. He drags his sodden fingers to your lips, glazing them in taste of your lubricant. You suckle your tongue around his thick digits, savoring your own taste, his soft grunt of approval spurring you on. You feel like such a good girl with his fingers crooked in your mouth. 

“Are you ready?” Miguel stands fully upright, dragging your hips to his. He’s hard as the counter you were pathetically clinging onto. His hipbones ground into your plush ass, dick pulsing in his immediate ache to feel your cunt. He backs up, fiddling with something at the waist. You don’t need to ask to know that it was his big cock grinding between your cheeks, smearing fluid over your slit.

“No condom?” 

“No condom,” he affirms. You bow your head, nodding gently over the countertop. The head of his cock drove into your wetness, pushing past bundles of nerves. It’s impossibly different without the bag over his dick. It’s been so long. His world blinks out, savoring the feeling like he was an inexperienced teenager again. 

“Carajo, you’re so good,” he finds himself cursing, leaning over your back. 

“Now he says I’m good."

“Shh,” Miguel clips with a mean nip at your nape, lining it with soft kisses, encouraging you on to take him. Warm and wet, Miguel can only describe the slide into your cunt as untethered delight. Released from the bondage of his usual condom, he’s a mess against your soaked cunt, gripping you for a semblance of stability. 

I just want to make you happy. For all your needy complaints and little quips, he knows you do. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here, with your hands cupped on top of his, squeezing for more closeness. Miguel laces your fingers together in a needy weave, drawing back to stroke his cock right back into your wet body. You lead one of his hands between your legs, urging him on to stroke your clit. Your walls clamp down on him, teasing out bursts of pleasure with how deeply he was buried. Miguel’s lips part into a whine of his name, skin slapping against skin. He sets a kiss in the crook of your neck, breath nearly unbearable. 

“Mami,” he gasps, the word coming out between his unstable thrusts. Your eyes shut hard, sparks of pleasure winding and building in your core. “Give me a baby.”

“Sí papi,” you heave, “I”m trying to.”

Miguel knows what you like-- and you like him desperate. His voice so low and rich that you gush around his swollen length, falling apart below him. He catches your body from dropping in an instant, his thighs shaking as he works you through the fibers of gentle pleasure. Hot pressure builds low in his stomach. 

“Qué bella eres. I’m going to finish, fill you and knock you up,” he whispers, drawing himself free and admiring the hazy space of pleasure and reality. Miguel turns you back to face him. You think you may complain-- you didn’t cum, or something of the sort. He shifts you to sit on the counter, spreading your vulva for inspection. Miguel spat on your cunt, rolling his fingers over the swollen folds to spread you apart. He slipped into the space between your shaking legs. You felt him thrust into your body hard and sharp. Your hands reached out, dragging Miguel’s shoulders forward, clinging onto his body. 

It comes all at once, Miguel’s stuttering thrust forward, a deep groan filling the kitchen, his hand clasped onto your thigh so hard you know he’ll bruise it. You catch his moan in a kiss he doesn’t reciprocate, buried so deep in your body that all he can think to do is to force you to take all of it. He shakes himself free of the web of pleasure that he’s enveloped in, looking at you past the thin rivulets of sweat you wiped away with your loving thumbs. 

“I think there are better positions for baby making,” you lean in, kissing him gently. He returns the kiss this time, eyes light of the strain and stress of the last few days.  “Like… not this.” 

Miguel pulls back, his soft cock slipping free from your warm entrance. Miguel watches as his seed dribbles from your hole, grunting in acknowledgement. He swipes your mixed fluids and rolls it between his fingers. 

“I’m open to suggestions.” 

He loves his wife. More than anything. What he doesn’t love is how Peter seems to know that you’re trying for a baby.

The thing about having a woman from his same cultura was this: you loved to talk with your best friend. Who, just so happened to be Peter. He doesn’t even have to say anything, just staring at him with a quirk on his lip and a terrible glitter in his eye after he’s resolved another meeting.

“Hey, Miguel.” 

“Don’t start.” 

He’s crowded with work at his desk-- he has no time for Mayday’s curious little eyes to glitter at him, Peter to be doing that shit he did when he wanted to be helpful. He offered his hands up, shrugging. 

“I’m just saying! I’m a man, you’re a man,” he mumbles, inching a little closer and closer. “If you want a baby--” 

“Let me guess. She told you.” 

“Mayday could use a spider buddy,” he held Mayday up, out of her carrier. Miguel glanced down at her wild hair, exhaling air out of his nose with a little huff. “Sooner than later?” 

“I’ve done it before,” Miguel throws back. “I know how to knock up my own wife, Peter. I don’t need help.”  

Peter is offering help as if Miguel hadn’t tasted the changes in your body when he ate you out. Never mind that he saw you nauseated this morning, too sick to handle a call that Miguel promptly answered. He knew his seed had stuck-- you wouldn’t feel so miserable otherwise. It doesn’t matter, he’d answer them all if it meant another little one in his arms at the end of it all. Just so long as you and the baby were safe. 

“Are you sure? I know--” 

“I’m damn sure.” Miguel turned around, his head in his hand. “I’ve had enough of you. Why don’t you do something useful? Bring her something for her morning sickness.” 

“Oh,” realization fell over Peter like a hammer, looking down to Mayday who looked right back up to her father. For all that Peter knew about his love life, he was shocked that you hadn’t told him how awful the smell of breakfast meat made you feel. His hand fell away, a film of pride slipping from his practiced features when Peter spoke. “But... She’s already pregnant?” 

He leers. Peter scuttles away. 

Privacy is important to Miguel. You knew the damn rule. No telling Peter about the inner workings of your bedroom. For that, you were going to fucking get it. You likely knew you were going to get it-- even if you were likely already pregnant.

He can’t wait.

[kquil]

JAMES POTTER | LIKE LOVERS DO

REQUEST :  hiiiii :) if/when u can, smith like this with james or remus lupin? @bobs-fav-cat

(art is by gyung_studio on instagram)

SUM : you and James Potter are just friends —friends that act like they’re in a loving relationship.  

TAGS. : modern au ; muggle au ; idiots in love ; james loves giving you princess treatment ; and you love returning his affections ; just friends being friends ; hehehe~ ; they’re in denial ; domestic fluff ; selfcare session ; biker james? ; james being a sweetheart ; reader being absolute wifey material! ; james and reader being so in love it’s sickening ; the type of sickening that makes you puke rainbows, glitter and love hearts ; mutual pinning! ; slightly based off a tiktok i saw once ; happy ending where they get together ; so much fluff ; scheming gremlin friends ; lily, dorcas and marlene as cupids for reader ; remus, sirius and peter as cupids for james ; idiots in love

LENGTH : 3.6k

“They should wear a sign,” Peter laughs as he and his close friends eye the pair of oblivious idiots across the room, “one that says ‘we’re actually together no matter how much we deny it’,” 

“You said it,” Sirius raises a hand and the two high-five each other before sniggering between themselves.

Across the hall stood you and James. It was a networking event disguised as a formal company party. And even though you and James weren’t each other’s dates to the event, James wore a matching tie to your chosen dress. The two of you unanimously decided to go with the excuse that you had both gone shopping for an outfit together and unconsciously bought matching things. It was only natural because you two were such good, close friends. 

From a distance, the three watch as you lift your left foot up through the high side-slit of your dress and draw attention to your unbuckled heel with a frown. James’ hazel eyes focuses onto your heel as well and immediately places his flute of champagne on a nearby table to help you, as if it was second nature to him; it is second nature to him— taking care of you. He’s kneeling down and re-buckling your heel for you as your hand tentatively places itself on his broad shoulder for balance. 

Once James is finished, he stands back up with a grin, takes up his flute with one hand and wraps his other around your waist to pull you into his side with a smile. Neither of you flinch at the closeness, in fact, you snuggle further into your best friend’s side and tuck your head under his chin so he can place a kiss onto the crown of your head. 

“Wanna bet on who folds first?” Remus speaks up with a devious smirk, Sirius and Peter eagerly voicing their predictions and placing their bets. 

“Oh Jamie!” you gasp and smile widely as your best friend presents you with a beautiful bouquet of flowers, “They’re beautiful,” he helps the floral arrangement into your arms with a satisfied grin, a fondness in his eyes as he watches you savour the scent of the pretty blossoms.

“My pleasure, my dear,” he regales dramatically as you giggle, “I passed by the florist on my way back from lunch at the pub with the boys and thought you’d like them,”

“I do like them,” you lean forward and kiss him on the cheek, “you’re so thoughtful, thank you for thinking of me, James,”

His warm smile softens further and he kisses your temple lovingly, “of course,” aside from the lingering scent of your shampoo and conditioner, James picks up on something more appetising, “what’s that delicious smell, angel?”

“Oh!” reminded of your earlier activities, you lead him into your kitchen where you proceed to find a vase for the arrangement in your arms, “I was baking—”

“Treacle tart!” James cheers and does a goofy little dance in the middle of your kitchen, his excitement obvious. 

“It’s almost done so you popped in at just the right time,” you giggle softly whilst transferring the arrangement into your chosen vase. With a pleased hum, James presses up behind you and places his large hands on the curve of your hips, his thumbs tenderly stroking up and down until he eventually pushes the hem of your shirt up, caressing your soft skin beneath. 

“Mmmmm… lucky me,” he whispers happily into your shoulder, where he begins trailing kisses up your neck. His words send a shiver up your spine and you resist the escalating urge to turn in his arms and lead his lips to cover and press against your own. 

You’re just friends. Nothing more, nothing less. 

James can’t get over how cute you are. 

Even when you’re doing the most mundane things, he can’t help but find you adorable. Like right now. Even with a bright green clay mask on your face, you are adorable, perched on his lap with your knees on either side of his thighs as you spread the same treen mask over his skin. 

“Stop moving, Jamie!” you chastise gently whilst stifling a giggle. 

“You stop moving,” he counters playfully and emphasises his words by placing his big hands on your hips and squeezing your curves briefly. Your only response is to laugh and do your best to continue applying an even coat onto his face. 

“….there!” you huff and set aside your tool to close the clay mask tub, “all done, no thanks to you!” He tickles your sides in retaliation as you climb off his lap and reach for your phone in order to set a timer. His antics were a brief distraction as you bless him with your tinkling giggles. 

“For how long do we keep this on?” 

“15 minutes,” 

He pulls a face, one that makes him look like a duck as he ponders over his thoughts. He looks so ridiculous, especially with the green mask on his face — it was only naturally for you to burst out laughing, “what should we do until then?”

“Stop talking,”

“Wha—?!”

“Not like that, Jamie,” you coo as he pouts dramatically, “we have to stop talking soon or else the mask will crack too much as it dries,” he makes a long noise of realisation at your words and nods obediently, zipping his lips before throwing away the imaginary key. 

No matter what he does, he’s always making you laugh. You’re sure that, even if you’re temporarily banning him from speaking, he would still be able to make you laugh and your clay mask will end up looking like a dried up riverbed. 

You have no complaints, though. 

You weren’t expecting it but you still weren’t too surprised when you see James waiting for you outside — just in time to pick you up after a night out with your close girl friends. He was wearing one of your favourite sweaters of all time, it was soft and big (big enough to make him appear deceivingly smaller than you know his figure is) and is the warmest thing you’ve ever worn. 

“James!” you call out, happy to see him. The build up of fatigue from the whole night melts off your aching limbs like powdered snow under golden sunbeams. Running to him, he greets you with his heart-stopping smiles.

“You look beautiful,” he whispers as soon as he has his arms wrapped around you. 

“Stop it,” you sigh into his shoulder, your face buried into the soft fabric of his sweater, “I look a mess after tonight,” 

He pulls away, enough to meet your eyes and examine your face without having to remove his arms from around you, “If this is you looking a ‘mess’, then I wonder what type of beauty you were earlier tonight,”

His comment makes your heart soar but you don’t let it show on your face, even when he wiggles his eyebrows comically to emphasise his flattering remark. Instead, you narrow your eyes at him before slipping out of his arms and biting your lip at the confused, pitiful whine he lets out. You don’t leave him miserable for long, however, as you’re quickly reaching down to lift up his sweater so that you could pull it over your head and burrow yourself inside. Like the living furnace he is, you’re greeted by such a comforting heat, you forget that you’re both still outside in the wet cold of the night. 

Throwing his head back, James laughs and wraps you up in his arms again, laying his cheek against the top of your head through his sweater. The first time you ever did this, he wasn’t shy about saying how much he loved it. And now, you’ve made it a tradition to do this often during the autumn and winter months. Admittedly, you loved cuddling him like this too; it’s more intimate and you love being surrounded by his warmth. It was a bonus that his scent literally has you in a choke hold under there. You’d happily suffocate on the smell of his cologne, laundry detergent and natural smell. But it also feels as though you’re falling into a trance by some alluringly scented spirit.

“As much as I love holding you like this, dear, I’m still on a mission to get you home safe so…” he looks down at you, hazel eyes turning soft at the adorable sight of you cuddled up to him under his sweater, “can my princess please let me help her into my car and drive her back home safely?”

You didn’t respond, only pouted and whined to express your dislike of pulling away from him as well as the warmth of his soft sweater. James knew instantly what to do. You two were best friends after all; it was a requirement for him to know all your needs telepathically. It was an awkward shuffling of limbs but James managed to slip off his sweater without needing to lift it off your figure and hoists you into his arms before you could start grumbling at the loss of his embrace.

“Not long now — my princess will arrive at her carriage soon~” he sings in a whisper beside your ear, smiling fondly at your soft giggles and adoring the way you wrap your arms around his neck to cuddle him close before needing to pull away so he can carefully sit in his car’s passenger seat. 

“Oh, come on!” Marlene gives an exasperated sigh as you examine the array of snacks laid out before you. In your peripheral, you observe how Lily doesn’t make any moves to stop Marlene from pestering you; instead a small smirk tugs at the corners of her lips, secretly enjoying and wanting to take part in Marlene’s badgering. 

“You come on,” you throw back with a light-hearted glare, “I thought we were going to buy snacks for movie night, not grill me on my friendship with James,”

“Friends, huh?” Dorcas arches a brow as Lily stifles a giggle beside her. All three were eyeing you mischievously as a heat flushes across your cheeks. 

“Stop it you guys,”

“We’ll stop as soon as you stop playing the friendship game with James!” Lily bargains, unable to hold herself back anymore, and you try your hardest not to roll your eyes while your cheeks flood with a familiar warmth. 

“We’re just friends,” it was a painful admission but you’d rather have what you have right now with James than ever risk sabotaging it. 

Marlene examines a strand of her golden hair as Lily leans against her side, “James acts more of a boyfriend to you than just a friend,”

Dorcas speaks up with a hint of impishness, “and I can prove it~”

“How?” you challenge, raising your chin ever so slightly in silent provocation. But Dorcas has no reaction, she just continues to smirk at you. 

“I’m gonna need your phone first,” you hesitate from the devilish sparkle in her eyes but eventually relent, cursing the weakness that was a result of your aching heart. Dorcas types away on your phone for a moment as Marlene and Lily peer over her shoulder and snicker at what they read. She doesn’t allow you to read the message she typed out before hitting send and handing your phone back

It takes a moment for you to get over your shock and look through the message she sent. It was sent straight to James, lovingly named as ‘My Idiot ❤️’ in your contacts, and it read: ‘James, this scary looking guy keeps following me around in the shop and it’s creeping me out! I can’t find the girls either 😰 what do I do?’. Your jaw drops and you can’t find any words to voice whatever it is you’re feeling; a mix of anger, upset, shock and creeping curiosity over what they have planned.  

Not a minute goes by and your phone is getting rapid notifications from James messaging you, he even tries to call you but the girls snatch your phone away before you could answer. They shake their heads at you and you huff, crossing your arms. You would have protested more from the rising anxiety you feel over having to lie to James but you were so curious. In the end, you reluctantly accept their plotting and try to prepare yourself for what’s to come.

For a minute, the message notifications stop from your phone and Lily feels her phone buzz from inside her bag. The three giggle as Lily rushes to take out her phone. From the side lines, you continue observing everything with your heart pounding rapidly in your chest. Lily types back a response and all three look up at you in unison, their eyes swimming with mischief.

“I’m setting a stopwatch to see how long just-friend-Potter gets here,” Marlene snickers and you groan, Dorcas and Lily giggling on either side of her. As much as you love them, they’re such a nuisance sometimes…

You could only guess that Lily sent him her location and now all of you were left patiently waiting for James to appear. 

Not even 15 minutes passes before James comes storming into view, tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in all black and without his glasses. Even without his glasses on, when James glances over and catches a glimpse of you, recognition crosses his unfriendly features and he storms over. Within seconds, he’s pulling you into a warm embrace. 

“Oh thank god,” he breathes a sigh of relief and presses his face into your hair, “you’re okay… —are you okay?” you look up as he pulls away and searches for your eyes, squinting to be able to do so without the aid of his glasses. 

“Y-yeah, I’m alright. The umm, the creep disappeared a little while ago,” you muster a small smile of reassurance, still uncomfortable with lying to him, before managing to softly ask your burning question, “why aren’t you wearing your glasses?” habitually, you feel about for the breast pocket of the leather jacket he has on and pull out his circular specs. 

As you carefully clean his lenses on your shirt, he goes to explain, “I wanted to look scary so that creep leaves you alone,” you’re quick to realise that without his glasses he would be forced to squint so that it looks like he’s glaring. It also clicks in your head that he wore all black so he could look even more intimidating. It was unusual for him to wear just black, normally that was Sirius’ thing, but you’re not complaining; James looks really attractive dressed in black, his hair tousled around messily and without his glasses on.

“Thank you, Jamie,” he grins boyishly after you put his glasses back on for him, taking a moment to adjust them until they sit aligned and comfortable. By habit, you comb your fingers through his untamed hair and James, in turn, presses a kiss to your temple. 

“I’m just glad you’re okay, princess,” your heart skips a beat at the nickname — he’s called you that so many times but he’s reserved it especially for you and it makes you feel so special, “do you want me to give you a ride home?” he lifts up the motorbike helmet in his hand, which you immediately recognise. Your curious eyes meet his hazel hues and he smiles bashfully, “I borrowed Sirius’ bike to get here quicker…” he shuffles around his feet, nervous under your gaze —he hate lying to you too, “okay okay… I took his bike without asking but I promise to give it back as soon as I get you home safe!” 

You give a small giggle and wrap your arms around his waist and bury your face into his muscular chest. It’s an embrace that James eagerly returns, petting your hair whilst speaking over your head once he finally spots your three friends. 

“Are you guys okay too?”

“Gee, thanks for the concern, Potter,” Marlene rolls her eyes as Lily and Dorcas crack up, “yeah, we’re good,” 

“Good, good,” James immediately goes back to focus on holding you close and kissing the crown of your head, affectionate and sweet. You could always rely on him to be there for you no matter what and the thought made butterflies explode into a fluttering haze in your stomach. 

Dorcas had proven her point. 

It was clear now that James prioritised you over anyone else. And you didn’t know whether to be flustered and scream for joy or melt into a puddle of goo. 

“She’s not my girlfriend so shut up,” James huffs and groans as he rolls over to lay on his stomach across the length of the sofa whilst Remus, Sirius and Peter sat in a scattered array about the living room. 

“Says the motorbike thief,” Sirius hisses playfully, shooting a superficial glare at his long time best friend/non-blood-related brother. 

“She really does act like your girlfriend more than your friend, Prongs,” Remus chimes up, setting his book aside as Peter offers him several cubes of chocolate. 

“I don’t get why you two don’t just date each other,” it was Peter who speaks up this time and James can’t help but roll his eyes that even Peter was on his ass about this. 

“That’s right! You don’t get it!” they wait for him to continue with a ‘so’ before demanding something but James just presses his burning hot face into a cushion and has a silent tantrum.  

“I’ll prove you wrong!” Sirius claims boldly and when James looks over, his biker friend was rapidly typing away at his phone, “I’ll give it around 20 minutes until she gets here,” 

James raises a brow, “Who?”

“Your not-girlfriend, of course!” 

“What did you say?” Remus asks what they were all wanting the answer to. 

“Oh nothing~ just that Jamesie-kins over here is really upset over something but doesn’t want to tell us why so we don’t know what to do to help him feel better,” Sirius fakes a pout and watery eyes as James gapes at him, horrified. 

“HOW IS THAT GONNA PROVE ANYTHING?!”

“If she gets here in 20 minutes then that means she prioritises your hurt feelings over going to her favourite over-priced restaurant with Pandora,” James’ eyes nearly bulge out. 

“That’s today?!”

Sirius’ devious smirk was answer enough. 

“I say 10 minutes!” Peter bets. 

“15!” Remus adds on.  

Remus wins the bet when you get there 14 minutes after Sirius’ text message was sent. Your arms are piled up high with James’ favorite junk food snacks, ranging from sweet to savoury. Over your shoulders, you wear your fluffiest blanket (James’ favourite) as a cape and rush forward to drape it over him. No time was wasted as you silently move around their shared flat at lightening speed, putting on the TV and switching to his favourite, comfort show, laying out his snacks on the coffee table and putting the kettle on before snuggling down under the blanket with him. It was a tight fit for the two of you on the sofa but neither of you minded; you were both cuddle bugs and enjoyed the closeness. 

“Get out, you three! Leave Jamie and I alone!” you speak for the first time to shoo the three boys away. They happily oblige, Remus smirking as Sirius and Peter cough up their betted amounts and close the living room door behind them. 

For a long moment, you merely stay there, your arms wrapped around James’ shoulders, one hand lovingly petting his hair as your other presses his face into your chest. James wasn’t shy about voicing how this was his most comforting position for cuddles and it made his heart race that you had cancelled your long awaited plans just to console him. 

“What’s wrong Jamie?” you finally ask, voice soft and slow with patience, “Sirius told me you weren’t feeling so well… but you’re not ill? Are you?” he feels you press the back of your hand against his forehead to check his temperature as he finally locks his strong arms around your midsection and pulls you even closer, “No you’re not, thank goodness,” he falls in love with the relief he hears in your voice. He loves falling in love with you over and over again; it’s so easy, “what can I do to help?”

He doesn’t know why he held back for so long. It was all so clear now. The fact that your eyes sparkled around him the way his did when he looked at you was so unbelieved before, he kinda just voluntarily blinded himself. But now, it was like he was seeing colours for the first time. James just can’t believe it took Sirius, of all people, to make him realise it. What a joke… he almost wants to laugh. But he can’t, not when his heart was ready to beat out of his chest for you. 

“Jamie?”

“…a kiss…” it was a whisper but you heard him so clearly. And he knows because he heard your breath hitch. 

“—what?”

“I want a kiss…to feel better,”

Not wanting to raise your hopes, you press a kiss to his forehead and your heart deafens your ears as it beats loudly against your eardrums. 

“A proper kiss,” he raises his head and pulls up to level his lips with yours, his hazel eyes melting your gaze, “like lovers do,”

You’ve waited so long for this moment that you couldn’t even fathom that it was actually happening and your entire world slowed to a standstill. It wasn’t until James had pressed his full lips against yours that you felt your senses come to life with so much intensity that you felt like you wanted to faint. But you wouldn’t dare miss your first kiss for anything. 

Like lovers do, you kissed. Like lovers do, you embraced. Like lovers do, you whispered sweet words, a life long promise, to one another, “I love you,” 

A/N : this started off as a timestamp that i sneakily wrote this request into (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ i didn’t know how to conclude it at first but i just kept writing and writing and now it’s finished haha! i hope you darlings enjoy the read! and i would also like to humbly tag my beloved moot @diputy for reasons she understands on a deep level (⸝⸝⸝• ω •⸝⸝⸝) ♡

TAGLIST : @melinajenkins @aastonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @chaosofmanyfandoms @storyofaromance @loving-and-dreaming @somewereinthegalaxi @ashreblogsficshere @cassandra-nerezza-black @stray-bi-kids @ttkttt @notasadgirlipromise @desikudisworld @volturissideslut @arilxup88 @fallencrescentmoon @topaz125 @xxrougefangxx @starchaser-lily @probablypossesedbysatan @agent-tempest @ghostgardn @rosalyn-s @seungtelevision

[bluessmutifyplaylist]

Separate Yandere Malleus (Hubby), Rook (Hubby), Leona (Lazy), Jamil (Babygirl), Azul (Babygirl), Jade (Menace), Floyd (Menace) and Sebek x Female!Tanjiro Reader SFW and NSFW please?

She’s kind, helpful and supportive, always willing to help others and she doesn’t expect anything in return? How cute (Naive), and after getting a taste of her kindness and care, he’s not going to let her go (And is now very territorial/protective of his soon-to-be wife/wifey)

Why can I see Floyd saying ‘Wifey’? (Rook would just make poems upon poems about how much he loves calling her his ‘Darling’ or ‘Wife’ and would violently tremble in joy if she just looks at him Top Tier Romantic/Stalker)

Sorry if that’s a lot, I’m a little knew to asking about Smut Requests (But I love my Twst Men so much, especially Malleus, Idia, Rook, Jamil and Azul, they just need hugs)

This is SMUT, and consensual, despite being Yandere.

Warnings: Yandere, Stockholm Syndrome(?), naive reader, creampie, breeding(?), unprotected sex, all characters are adults, sex with the intention of having children, slight dumbification, Malleus has 1 dick (sorry monsterfuckers), somnophilia in Malleus’s

Leona Kingscholar

You supported him even in his darkest moments, no matter if he was rude to you back. You were there, and the way you would take Cheka when he wasn’t feeling super great really had him appreciating you in a way that he never thought he could before. So, once you had graduated, he asked you if you would marry him.

Of course, this comes from a much darker place in him. He was never going to let you go, even if you refused him. Luckily for him, though, you were in tears as you accepted his proposal, happy to be marrying the love of your life. You were wed rather quickly, with it being a small ceremony, and it was the first time you had seen Leona cry because you just looked so beautiful walking down the aisle. That moment was one you would cherish forever. 

Now, your wedding night was a different story. With how hard he was thrusting up into you, making you see stars. You could feel his cock pounding your insides, and you were thanking every god in existence that you married this man. You were two orgasms in already, and you were approaching a third, while he still had his first to go.

“Look at you, my naive herbivore being fucked dumb.” Just hearing those words made you falter and stutter your movements, but it didn’t stop Leona. He was making you ride him through your orgasm, and you were so sensitive. He let out a groan as he came inside you, saying, “I’m not stopping until you are filled with my cubs, baby, so you better keep going.”

Azul Ashengrotto

He knew you were the one when he showed you his cecaelia form for the first time. Instead of being disgusted or even afraid, you used a gentle hand as you played with the tentacles that were pulling you closer and closer. Eventually, you found yourself face-to-face with the Housewarden, and you threw your arms around his neck as you pulled him into a kiss. He immediately reciprocated, and he laid claim to you that night.

Years later, you both were married, and he was a successful business owner. You were in the upper-middle class of the ocean, and you both were talking about starting a family. You were already his housewife, keeping the house clean because you both agreed on it (and because he didn’t want you going anywhere that he didn’t have control over). 

You weren’t about to complain, though, because he had you in the missionary position. It’s a bit basic, but fuck did it feel good. He was desperate; desperate to fill you up, desperate for you to feel pleasure, desperate to push himself to another climax despite the overstimulation. Your legs locked around him as he started releasing ropes of cum inside you, and you had the orgasm of your life.

“I love you, honey~” Your voice was strained after about two hours of moaning. He laid down next to you, and you laid your head on his chest. He started drawing patterns on your back, and he said I love you in return. You leaned up and gave him a kiss on the lips, and then trailed it down his chest… lower and lower, until round 2 was started.

Jade Leech

You were his the day you burst into Azul’s office and demanded that your friends be let go of their contracts. Hardly anybody would have that amount of confidence, and he found himself obsessed. He’s stalking you, he’s making sure his brother knows that you are his territory and his alone. You could always smell that he was there, as he didn’t know about your keen sense of smell. But, you didn’t mind it.

Years later, you both were married, and it was an interesting marriage. Your in-laws absolutely adored you, Floyd tolerated you, and Jade was still as obsessed with you as he was back in your NRC days. In fact, he wanted to give you a reason to stay forever, so he brought up the idea of having kids. You had many siblings back in your home world, which you never found a way back to, so it was understandable that you would want a big family yourself.

So, that’s how you got here, you being folded in half, your legs being pressed to your shoulders as he pounded you into oblivion. For the past 4 hours, you have been in every conceivable position you can think of, and this was going to be your final one. If you wanted a big family, that is exactly what you were going to get.

“Darling, how many kids do you want? Do you have an exact number? Or am I going to fuck you and keep you full of children until you say that you don’t want anymore?” Just the thought of having so many kids made you orgasm. You realized that you wanted to be with this man for the rest of your life, and you wanted to be surrounded by a family that the both of you created, and you were definitely going to enjoy the process to achieve your newfound dream.

Floyd Leech

He claimed you as his also the day you walked into Azul’s office, as no one ever had the courage, bravery, or stupidity to do it. When he went to squeeze you, you wound back enough to headbutt him, making him drop you. From that point on, you had become his new obsession. You were the only one who could beat him in a fight, so it was kind of obvious that this would happen.

As much as you Floyd simps would probably want to be married to him, he’s just not that big on marriage. He’s not that big on commitment in general. However, he knows that he’s committed to you because he wants you to be committed to him. Plus, any thoughts against marriage flew out the window when he saw you stretching and yawning.

Hours later, your neck was covered in bite marks, some a bit bloody, but he just licked it all away as his cock was buried inside your cunt. He had cum inside you about 2 times by now, and your muscles were sore from being contorted into a multitude of different positions. He had a newfound need to make you his little wifey who was stuffed with his kids 24/7.

It wasn’t until there was a bit of a bulge in your stomach from all the cum he had released when he pulled out of you. You were on the verge of unconsciousness, but you felt his arms wrap around you and pull you close. His body was warm, the final lull to sleep that you needed. It was a rare but sentimental Floyd, where he watched you, in such a vulnerable state… marriage is the best option to make sure you are his.

Jamil Viper

You were the first thing he could actually call ‘his’. He did not have to give you to Kalim, and he was never going to let that happen. In fact, during his overblot, he made his feelings known to you by keeping you at his side. However, you wanted your Jamil, not the one controlled and bound by the ink. After, in the infirmary, he asked if what you said still rang true, and that was where you had your first kiss.

Skip to years later, and you both were married. He still works for the Al-Asim family, but you couldn’t ask for a better husband. He has told you about his hesitancy towards having children of his own, as they would most likely serve the Al-Asim family as well. You understood, but you still wanted to have children with him. He told you that you could have one child for now, and see where it went from there.

Round 1 started right then and there, in your kitchen. He bent you over the counter, railing you from behind. Before, whenever you both would have sex, he would use protection. This time, though, he went in raw, and it was the first time ever that you both truly felt each other, and damn did it feel euphoric. You couldn’t even think anymore.

Of course, this was not exactly a fitting place if you were going to conceive your first child. So, he picked you up into his arms and carried you to your shared bedroom once you had your first orgasm of the night. There were many more to come (get it?) and you were barely getting started. You will not be able to walk for two days, and you will be walking out with hickies… mostly in between your thighs.

Rook Hunt

When he first discovered you, he immediately started stalking you. However, he wrote you sonnets, limericks, and poetry of other sorts for your eyes and ears. He sang your praises, and to lastly win over your heart, he serenaded you properly, under your window. You told him to wait there, and you ran downstairs and glomped him, making out with him on the ground. If it weren’t for his desire to make your first time special, you would have probably conceived a child right then and there.

However, he did wait until marriage… which was less than a year after you graduated. He had a steady income, and he already had a cottage in the forest in the Shaftlands. He always had a fantasy of a big family in a cottage, being a hunter and having his beloved wife by his side as an equal in the home. He cherished you, making sure that he provided for you in every way you needed. You became a housewife, as you would like to be there to take care of your children.

Speaking of, not a single night has passed since your wedding night where you haven’t fucked like rabbits. Sure, you both were still young, but you had been talking about this since you both were in NRC. You felt like you were ready to take on the challenge of rabbits. So, every night, you were filled with his cum. You were claimed as his, with all the hickies all over your body, with the sinful stretch his cock always seemed to give you… it was heaven in Twisted Wonderland.

It did not come as a surprise that you fell pregnant merely a few weeks after your wedding. The news made your beloved hunter so excited. Now, you could never leave him for your world. You had children that tied you to him. During your pregnancy, he is a devoted lover. He makes sure all your needs are met, and that includes the needs that are in the bedroom.

Malleus Draconia

You were his first friend outside of his retainers. You showed him kindness, and you were not scared of him at all. That alone made his draconic instincts want to kidnap you and keep you all to himself. However, he was able to hold off just a little, and you came to him on your own. The rose you had presented him with remains preserved, even years later, as it is a token of your love for him. He was a bit delulu, but aren’t we all?

It was a big request to ask you to marry him, as you would become the queen of a great nation of mostly fae folk. However, you were up to the challenge, and the people loved you. However, there was great pressure for an heir. Again, you were up to the challenge, but you discussed it with your husband first. You both concluded on a large family, so that the children wouldn’t grow up isolated (and totally not because Malleus wanted to see you round over and over again).

That night, all the staff had been advised to vacate the corridor in which your shared chambers resided, as you were not able to quiet yourself. You went a total of 8 rounds, one of which you were passed out for, but gave him the ‘okay’ to fuck you through that brief nap. Any chance of walking was out of the question. You could barely lift your head, and you had to be tended to by maidservants for a week. Unfortunately, Malleus couldn’t tend to you himself, as being the King meant that he was busy.

The entire realm rejoiced at the news of your pregnancy, and you had the world’s best doctors at your disposal. Everyone was concerned about making sure that the heir survived to take the throne, but they were also a tad worried about them being half-fae and half-human, as it meant that their lifespan would be shorter than a typical fae’s. Neither you nor your husband cared, however, as you were just happy to start a new chapter of your lives together.

Sebek Zigvolt

His pride denied him the pleasure of accepting his feelings for you in the first place, and he instead wrote anonymous poems for you that he would leave at your desk. You had no idea who it could be, so when someone claimed it was them, Sebek shouted that it was he who wrote the poems and not the plagiarist. He looked like he was about to fight the poor unfortunate soul, but you placed a kiss on his cheek, telling him that you accepted his feelings and not the other person’s.

About the topic of marriage… he would prioritize being a knight first. However, when he sees a time in his career, he will definitely get married to you. He enjoyed that he was in Briar Valley often and he just needed to train new recruits, and he would return home to you cooking dinner. As for children, the topic would blurt out of his mouth as you voiced your sadness about being lonely. You loved the idea, and as irresponsible as it was, the way you looked at him with newfound dreams in your eyes, he carried you to the bedroom and started right away.

You had discovered that Sebek had a hidden breeding kink, and he loved seeing your face as he came inside you over and over. The husband you thought you knew was giving into the primal instincts deep within him, and you were loving it. His fangs had made their mark all over your neck and shoulders, claiming you despite the ring on your finger showing you were taken.

The Zigvolt family, as well as Lilia, Silver, and King Malleus, were all excited when you announced your pregnancy. However, only the two of you would know what sinful things took place for this to happen. Know that this is not your only child, even if you don’t actually have another one. He wants at least two, and he is willing to adopt.

[jubiilee13]

I am begging for jealous Mike either angsty or fluff

But just imagine him pouting because we are focused on Abby and he wants our attention

But angst hes suddenly back to when the house was hollow and his parents barely uttered a word to him

YEA YEA YEA YEA NOW WERE TALKING OMG

this literally made me emotional writing it my poor pookie bear hes so wifey he doesnt deserve that

this is not proof read so it may be a bit ass so sorry

love you anon 😍

—

It was summer break for Abby, and by this point you and Mike had been dating for a few months.

Mike was… clingy to say the very least.

Not that you minded of course, you thought it was quite cute when he clung to your side at every oppurtunity.

It did interfere at times however...

Now was one of those times.

You sat beside abby at her desk, listening carefully as she explained each little bit of her drawing which was currently in progress.

A gentle smile formed on your lips, and you watched her carefully, your hand combing through her hair as she works.

She continued her rambles, and you cant help but chuckle at her eagerness.

A knock on abbys door tears you from your thoughts, yet abby doesn't flinch, continuing her work as you gently pat her back, telling her you'll be back in a moment.

When you open the door, you meet mikes tired gaze, and you frown a bit, stepping out and closing the door behind you. (to ensure abby's masterpiece making isnt disturbed)

"You ok my darling?" your voice asks, concern evident in your tone.

Mike nods, but it is hesitant, and he immediately begins to ramble nervously "it-its stupid nevermind" he whispers, sounding almost embarrassed as he turns on his heel to leave.

Your gentle hand reaches out to grab his own, eyebrows furrowing with concern.

"Its not stupid, talk to me mike, im here to listen" You say, your grasp on his arm gentle, yet enough to cause him to break.

He lets out a quiet sob, and you dont hesitate to pull him into your arms.

"Hey hey hey im here mike, im here, talk to me, ive got you" you say gently, one hand combing through his hair as he cries into your shoulder.

You let him cry, leading him to the living room couch where he rests his head on your shoulder as he sniffles.

"You wanna talk about it" you mumble, still caressing his hair

He nods softly, taking a few deep breaths to compose himself before he begins to speak.

"I-i- i wasnt g-given much attention as a kid... after garret a-after all my... my mom and d-dad were too wrapped u-up in their grief to... to care... there were nights w-when i had to cook my o-own dinner... i-i i didnt even know how... but burnt food was b-better than starving. even before the w-whole garret thing, he was t-their golden child" he says, taking in another shaky breath as he continues.

"Ever... ever since i started dating y-you... i felt... i felt loved... cared for... but s-sometimes i get... scared that... one day you'll just... stop caring. I-i mean you love abby s-so much- and i d-do too dont get m-me wrong... its s-stupid i know but s-some days i get scared abby w-will be just like garret... and you'll leave me like they did" he whispers, a bit embarassed by his jealousy of his younger sister.

Your face softens, and you pull away to cup his face with your gentle hands.

"Your problems are not stupid, and i love you so much mike, more than i think words can even portray, i will never, and i mean NEVER stop caring about you, you are my sun, moon, and stars, you know that?" you say gently, a smile on your face as you wipe any stray tears that escape his beautiful eyes.

"Im sorry it seems like ive been neglecting you for abby, that girl is just the sweetest and shes like a daughter to me, but never will i ever stop caring for you over her" you say eyes never leaving his own

he sniffles again, and another wave of tears takes over him as he engulfs you in his arms now, body shaking as you comfort him.

The two of you would be ok

It takes time to heal, but deep down mike knew that he had found a keeper, and he wouldnt want to heal with anyone else but you

[chvnssecret]

Kinkember Day 5

↳ requested by: anon

↳ includes scenes of nipple play, nipple kink, edging, orgasm control, fingering, dirty talk, praise. if you are under the age of 18, i suggest you click off now.

November nights were no match for you. Cuddled up on the sofa, you waited for Chan to get home from the studio. It was a different time every night, yet you still waited up for him regardless. That’s where your title of ‘Wifey’ came from, from him.

This time was different. It was cold, freezing actually, and all you needed was to be wrapped up in his warm arms. Still, it probably didn’t help that you only had a tank top and jogging bottoms on, but a fluffy blanket helped a little.

You were completely immersed with the shit on TV and didn’t even hear the click of the front door. “You’re still up?” He smiled instantly when he saw your shivering frame on the sofa. You didn’t respond, merely battered your eyelids at him as he bent down to kiss your forehead. “You’re freezing, babe!” He stated the obvious when he took the blanket off to hug you. “How can you tell?” You sarcastically remarked with a smug grin on your face. It wasn’t what you were expecting, but he smirked and replied, “Just look at them tits.”

Since you were wearing a tank top, your nipples and piercing were extremely prominent through the fabric. You caught him staring, mouth slightly ajar and building up saliva. “Stop looking, perv!” You laughed and slapped his chest. He was still towered over you, arms either side of you as his eyes darkened. “I have a situation now, and I’m afraid you’ll have to sort it out,”

He sat in your previous space on the sofa, patted his lap for you to climb on. You sat up straight so your boobs were in line with his eyesight, and he was like a kid at a candy store.

“You turn me on so fucking much, do you know that?” He spoke whilst gripping your tits over your top. His warm hands were soothing as they brushed gently over your erect nipples. It instantly turned you on since your piercing made it even more sensitive. As his thumb glided over your nipple again, you winced and jolted on his lap, causing his hard cock to rub against your pussy. “So beautiful baby,” his husky voice made your clit throb. “How long do you think you can last with my fingers inside of you?”

“We’ll see, shall we?” Unsure of what came over you, you immediately flushed at your own words. It wasn’t usual for you to talk back to Chan, but seeing his expression of a cocked brow and titled chin, you were worried. “I guess we will,” his fingers slid around the waistline of your black, laced panties before pushing his middle finger down your folds. “So wet for me, hmm?” With one hand caressing your boobs and the other lapping your folds, you whimpered on his lap. “You cum when I say, yeah?” His accent was thick and dripping with Aussie, turning you on even more.

His fingers slid in skilfully, sitting inside you for a moment to tease you. “You want me to start? Use your words,” he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood as he basically drooled over your tits in his face. “Please, Channie. I’ll do anything for you, please let me cum,” you winced and pleaded at his fingers sitting inside of you. Breathy moans escaped your lips as he started pumping in and out of you slowly, curling them all the way in to hit your g spot. “Your tits are so fucking sexy,” he spoke, popping one out of your tank top to suck in his mouth.

The mixture of his warm tongue swirling your nipple and his fingers pleasuring you was too much. “Doing so well for me, reckon you can go a bit longer? I’m enjoying this too much,”

You rested yourself on his broad chest, needing that support from overstimulation. “Chan, feels so fucking good. Can’t hold out for long— need you,” you struggled to speak between moans, breath fanning over his face from the closeness. “Mmm, come on, baby. Of course you can. You’re doing amazing,” completely immersed with your tits, he forgot he was even fingering you.

It’s like he couldn’t multitask because of how much he was enjoying it.

“More, just a little more,” you begged as he pulled his hands out of your panties.

“But I wanna taste you, princess.” With that, he rubbed all your juices over your other tit before sucking it clean. “Taste so fucking sweet and good,”

Now you were left with an ache between your legs and a serious need to cum. You thought he wouldn’t notice you sliding your hands down into your pants, although it wouldn’t feel the same, until he pulled it out. “On my command,” he held your arm behind your back whilst he placed open mouth, wet kisses all around your nipple piercing. “Tell me, baby. Do you like this?” He questioned and flickered his tongue over the metal bar through your nipple.

Waves of pleasure struck through your body to the point you could’ve orgasmed then and there.

“Fuck, Chan. Please. I need you inside of me again,” you closed your eyes tight and threw your head back. It was all too much.

“Since you asked so nicely…” He let go of your arm, slipping his sticky fingers back into your pussy. You felt relieved almost immediately, feeling his fingers go back and forth on your g spot at a fast pace.

“Hmm, so sexy,” he suckled and licked your piercing, occasionally dipping his head between your boobs to kiss the insides of them.

A pit of warmth formed in your stomach; both at the feeling of your tits being sucked and being fingered. “I’m gonna c-cum,” you whined, grinding on his fingers desperately to reach your high.

Your stomach tightened as you squirted all over his fingers still wiggling inside of you.

“That’s it, my girl. Cum all over my fingers. You can show me how good you taste, yeah? Open up, doll.”

[slutforsilverfoxes]

The Commander and I

A/N: Do y’all put yourself in the Five-0-verse at night before falling asleep or are you normal? 🙃 This is a purely selfish lil dream that’s been stuck in my head which originally started as a drabble but I thought would be cuter as dialogue. Hope you enjoy 🥰

———

“Lieutenant Commander, this is Lieutenant Wifey requesting permission to enter your office. Over.”

Steve looks up from his desk with a grin to see your nose pressed against his glass door, shaking his head at your silliness before beckoning you over to him. You’re by his side within seconds flat, crawling into his lap and curling up like a cat as his arms come to settle across your body.

“Hi handsome,” you purr, leaning up to peck his lips before snuggling into the warmth of his chest. “Missed you all day.”

“I missed you, pumpkin,” he echoes, cheek resting against the crown of your head. Your index finger absentmindedly traces over the bit of his tattoo peeking out from the hem of his shirt, and you can physically feel him relaxing from your touch. “What’d you do today?”

“Finished up my medical notes for the week, read a bit of my book,” you shrug. “Thought about you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” you answer with a smile, rubbing the fabric of his soft tee between your fingers. “Sometimes I wake up before you in the morning and just look at you and think about how beautiful you are. But not in a stalker way, in a ‘I’m your wife and I’m obsessed with you’ kinda way, y’know?”

A laugh rumbles from deep in his chest, the sound floating over your body and instantly sending a rush of warmth through you. “Trust me, honey, the feeling is mutual,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose into your hair.

You sit up in his lap, pressing your hands against his muscular shoulders and growing serious. “No, bubba, you don’t understand. I mean, yeah, your personality and sense of humor and all that- ten out of ten- but Steven.” He raises an eyebrow at your use of his full name. “You are literally the most gorgeous man I have ever laid eyes on. We’ve been married for almost five years now and I’m still crushing on you like a middle school girl. I need Steve-aholics Anonymous!”

“C’mon babe,” he chuckles, tucking your chin between his thumb and forefinger and gently pulling you forward for a kiss. “You only think that because you love me. I’m already going gray,” he mumbles, reflexively scratching at the salt and pepper patch on his chin.

“How very dare you,” you huff indignantly, annoyed that he just doesn’t get it. “This,” you replace his fingers with your own, running your nails along the gray dotting his scruff, “is so fucking sexy. Reminds me that I managed to snag an older, more experienced man who knows how to love me right.”

“Is that so?” he challenges, letting his hands come to rest on your waist as you turn to straddle his lap.

“And,” you press your mouth against his, drawing his bottom lip between your teeth and tugging gently before pulling back, “I love when you wear these tight shirts to work so your tattoos are just barely visible. God, Steve, when your arms flex or that little muscle in your neck works as you’re barking out orders I just-” You trail off, an involuntary shiver running up your spine at the thought.

A faint blush dots his cheeks and you scrunch up your nose at the adorable sight. To the rest of the world, he’s cocky, arrogant, headstrong, a serial rule-bender (some would say breaker) who knows how to always get his way. But with you, he’s vulnerable, open, even shy at times, and lately you can tell that he’s been feeling less than stellar about getting older. You’ll take any and every opportunity to hype up your man and make him see what you do. “Don’t even get me started on you in your dress whites, Commander,” you whisper against the shell of his ear, licking a stripe up the side of his neck and grinning as he shivers under your touch.

“What happens if I get you started?” he asks with the ghost of a smirk flitting across his handsome features.

“Then you have to listen to me talk about how sinfully good you look in uniform. All I’m saying is I’d let you board my ship any time, if y’know what I mean.”

“Y/N!”

You hold your hands up defensively, “What? It’s true! It’s the best of both worlds, cause damn do you clean up nice, but then underneath you’re all muscly and chiseled and you’ve got these tats that wrap around these gorgeously thick biceps in the most perfect way.” You try to illustrate by wrapping your hand around said muscle, marveling at the fact that your fingers are unable to touch.

“Y/N…” he chuckles softly, averting his gaze from you and shaking his head in embarrassment.

“And I love,” you trudge on, taking his hands from where they’re kneading your curves to kiss the tips of each of his fingers, “these beautiful, strong hands that can beat a man to within an inch of his life-”

“Does that turn you on?”

“Yes. Now don’t interrupt,” you bite down on his finger before continuing. “As I was saying, they can… do some damage, but they also daintily squeeze a little lemon slice into your water every time we’re out to eat.”

“Is it cliche to say my heart feels like it’s going to burst right now?” he asks, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I still can’t believe I’m lucky enough to call you mine.”

“Better believe you’re stuck with me, McGarrett,” you grin, sinking to your knees between his desk and him. Sliding his shirt up his torso, you kiss each new bit of exposed skin as it’s revealed to you, his head falling back against his office chair with a sigh. “I love every inch of you and I’m gonna show you just how mu-”

You’re interrupted by a frantic banging on the office door, and you can see a shock of blonde over Steve’s desk. “Glass. Visible. Trauma. Thank you.”

You slap your hand over your mouth, laughter bubbling between your fingers accompanied by a muffled, “Sorry, Danny!”

Letting his shirt fall back down as he stands, Steve offers you a hand to help you up before pulling you against his chest and kissing you soundly. “C’mon, Mrs. McGarrett,” he smiles against your lips, “let me take you home and show you how much you’re loved.”

[imaginedreamwrite]

Cowboy Curtis takes his wifey along to volunteer at a soup kitchen for the first time. His ex never would so he's delighted she asked to join and helps all day with a smile on her face

Christmas countdown day 7 — Volunteer at Salvations Army/Veterans shelter/soup kitchen

He’s finding himself surprised by you time and time again. Every day he’s with you, he’s amazed by how generous and sweet natured you truly are. It’d a breath of fresh air compared to his ex-wife who never once wanted to come with him to volunteer, taking the stand that she wouldn’t commit to being hands on with people who needed it.

Curtis hadn’t even officially asked you if you wanted to go with him, he’d marked it off in his calendar that he was going to the soup kitchen to help with their annual community dinner. It was a tradition for him, since he had once used the service when he was 17.

“I hadn’t always had it so lucky,” Curtis told you his past when he was a young 17 year old living on the streets and in shelters, “I had to do a lot of questionable things to survive. I met someone during one of these services who hired me as a hand.”

“You started as a hand?” You dug more into his story, wanting to know more about the man Curtis had become. “I always thought…I don’t know, that you-“

“No, honey.” He cut you off and squeezed your left hand as he drove, brushing his thumbs over your knuckles. “I wasn’t always in this position. I’ve come a long way.”

He came in through the door to find your hands shoved into the sink water as you scrubbed dishes beside one of his oldest friends, a woman who had supported him when he was young. The two of you were making idle chat, talking together as you took one wash station to yourself while the other two were taken by someone else.

Your generosity, your empathy for other people was beyond divine and endearing. You were such a beautiful soul, so willing to give where his ex wasn’t.

“Are you ready to go, sweetheart?” Curtis called your name, drawing your attention and his friends’ back to him. “We can go grab dinner?”

“Actually,” you hummed, looking at the stack of dishes yet to be washed, “I was thinking I’d just help finish these.”

“Are you sure? We’ve been here all day-“

“Curtis Everett, you walk back out of here and go talk with someone. She wants to stay.” His dear friend waved him off with a gentle scold, giving him a thumbs up of approval not too long after.

“Really, I want to do this.” You reassured him, clapping your gloved hands together.

“Alright, darlin’. I’m come get you in a while.”

[h0tchner]

Any Age, Any Day, Anywhere (Part 1) - aaron hotchner x fem!reader

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: WRITTEN FOR AN ANON REQUEST: "ok hi so u already wrote a jealous reader and was wondering whats your take on jealous hotch? i mostly see him in fics as possessive and yeah being the leader type i would think he could also be possessive but i also think that he would just be sad like ya know he doubts himself as we saw in some episodes and i think he would need assurance and a lot of convincing that u only love him but if you’ve given that to him then thats the time he would be possessive and god i would love to imagine a possessive and feral aaron hotchner"

word count: 3.5k

includes: kissing, so much freaking adorable fluff, talk of body insecurities, insecure!hotch, protective!hotch, wifey reader, super brief mentions of pregnancy, alcohol, confrontation with a drunk asshole (derek & hotch are all over it tho dw), party at papa rossi's!, smut to come in next chapter...

rating: 18+ (technically there is no smut in this part, but there are adult themes such as drinking, kissing, etc.).

a/n: HELLO BESTIES! This is part one of a two-part fic! The next part will be pure filth, so keep your eyes peeled for some feral hotch content... ALSO! PLS (!!!!!!!!!!!) interact if you liked this, rb, comment, like and/or send me a request if you have ideas for future fics! i love y’all! - rivka💞

“Aaron! Can you come here for a sec?” you call out to your husband from the bathroom, muttering curses under your breath as you try (and fail) for the third time to zip up the back of your black cocktail dress.

“Sure, I just need a minute,” he replies from the bedroom closet, securing the last opalescent button on the arm of his white dress shirt. He looks at himself in the closet mirror, zeroing in at the bags under his eyes and the sprinkling of grey in his stubble. He looks… tired. Tired and old. And he hates it.

Even though Aaron is only in his late-40s, he has lived lifetimes; years of working as Unit Chief of the BAU will do that to a man. Every horror he’s seen and every person he’s lost has weighed on his body and mind. In the past few months, amidst work changes and a new baby, he’s been exhausted and in fear that he’s letting himself go. Of course, being the stoic man that he is, he’s done his absolute best to hide these feelings from you. Tonight, however, he doesn’t know if he can. It’ll be your first night out together as a couple since welcoming baby girl Hotchner to the family four months ago. With no pressing family or work distractions, he just knows that you’ll be able to sense his apprehensions. It’s only a matter of when.

Taking in a breath, he turns a little to the side, frowning at his profile. Aaron winces a little at his “dad bod,” but quickly recovers from the discomfort, milliseconds after it flashes across his face.

“Aaron Hotchner get your handsome butt in here and help me zip my dress! We’re gonna be late,” you exclaim, trying one last time to reach the zipper before giving up and crossing your arms in defeat. You lean back lightly against the countertop facing the door, letting the fabric slip off your shoulders, and wait for your husband to rescue you from the hell that is this dress.

At the sound of your voice, Aaron snaps out of his trance. He shakes his head lightly, as if to physically erase the intrusive thoughts, and clears his throat. Grabbing his suit jacket off the hanger, he flicks off the closet light and closes the door behind him.

Languidly, he meanders from the closet toward the bathroom. He drags his feet a little longer than he normally would, still feeling off and a little bit shy about his appearance.

“Aaron,” you sing, “I’m waiting for –,” your jaw drops mid-sentence when Aaron appears in the doorway.

“Oh fuck,” you breathe out before you can stop yourself, eyes widening at the sight of the gorgeous man in front of you.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, crossing over to you, searching your face for any ounce of reprieve.

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong,” you’re quick to reply, standing from your leaning position to meet him, holding out your hands.

He takes them in his own, cocking his head slightly, his soft hazel eyes boring into yours.

You shift forward, moving up on your toes to peck his soft pink lips.

He sighs into the kiss, feeling the warmth of your lips against his own. It feels so good that it almost makes him forget about how he is feeling… almost. But the dark thoughts come back, and he pulls away from you a bit, reluctantly.

Aaron clears his throat.

“You called me?” He questions, but it sounds more like a fact.

“Yeah,” you give his hands a squeeze. “I needed you to zip up my dress, but now,” you lean in again, “I kinda want you to rip it off me.” You offer him a sultry smirk, moving your hands up to rest on his broad chest. He moves his hands to settle on your hips.

You lick your lips and let your eyes rake over his body, taking in every ounce of his sexy frame. The way his crisp, white dress shirt hugs his solid body makes you go weak in the knees. His strong, toned legs in those black dress pants? Yes please. His soft black hair and salt and pepper stubble on his face are practically begging to be touched. He looks good. Damn good.

“You look…” you pause, tapping a finger lightly against his pectoral, searching for the right word, “…delicious.”

Aaron blushes lightly at your ogling, offering you a sad smile as he squeezes his eyes shut out of embarrassment.

You sense the falter in his demeanor, knowing that there’s something else nagging at him far beyond his usual flustering when you vocalize your attraction to him.

“Honey,” you implore, looping your hands around his neck to bring his forehead down to touch yours. “What’s going on in that big, beautiful brain of yours?”

“It’s nothing,” he mutters, swallowing, rubbing soft circles into your sides.

“It’s something,” you counter, carding a hand through his hair at the nape of his neck. You scratch lightly at his scalp, waiting for him to speak. You’ve learned that the best thing to do when Aaron gets in a mood is to give him some time to gather his thoughts. Keeping him close, physically, is a way to show him some comfort without pressuring him to speak. It encourages him, without words, that your arms are a safe place.

“I don’t…” he starts, and then stops himself. His dark eyebrows furrow and his mouth presses into a thin line.

“Mhm?” you question, fingers still tangled in his thick, black locks.

He pulls his forehead away from yours and locks eyes with you. You let your hands be still now, a silent gesture to show him that you’re listening.

He takes in a breath.

“I don’t look the way I used to,” he says quietly, shifting his eyes away from yours.

“What do you mean,” you urge him to continue.

“I mean, I don’t look like I did five years ago. Two years ago. Four months ago. I mean, I was practically a different man when we first met. I was younger, fitter…” he trails off, visibly upset.

“Yes, Aaron, you were,” you agree, keeping your tone temperate.

His eyes snap to yours, confused. It’s clear that was not what he was expecting you to say.

“You were a different man,” you continue gently, resuming your pacifying touch in his hair, “and I was a different woman.”

Aaron lets out a huff.

“Do you love me any less now than you did five years ago?” You ask him.

“Of course not,” he’s quick to answer.

“Why is that?” You prod.

“You’re gorgeous, inside and out. You’re funny, smart, loving…” he begins, but you interrupt him before he can go on.

“And,” you butt in, “if I were to go completely grey, gain thirty pounds, and only wear a potato sack to work every day would you love me any less?”

Aaron huffs again, but this time he’s fighting a smile. He’s starting to catch on. You watch as a spark of levity returns to his eyes. He holds you a little tighter.

“No. There’s nothing you could do or say to make me love you any less,” he grumbles in annoyance, but his upturned lip and matching eyebrow tell a different story.

“Ditto, baby,” you smile up at him. “I love you at any age, any day, anywhere, and there is nothing in the world that can make me change my mind.”

He dips down then, capturing you in a kiss, grinning against your lips.

You giggle as Aaron works his way down your jawline and neck, gasping as he kisses the soft skin at the junction of your neck and shoulder, thick fingers gripping the sides of your hips. He moves his lips back up to your earlobe, nipping at it lightly as you let out another soft gasp.

“You always know the right thing to say,” he whispers into your ear, pressing another kiss right underneath it.

“Aaron, I know I said I wanted you to take this dress off me,” you say breathlessly as Aaron nips at your shoulder again, “but Rossi will kill us if we don’t show up tonight. Plus, I really want the chance to show off my super sexy FBI husband. It’s been far too long.”

He lets out a low groan into your skin and gives your hips a squeeze, nuzzling his head into your neck.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, “you’re right.”

“Aren’t I always,” you snort, eliciting a chuckle from your husband as you turn around in his arms to let him zip you up.

He takes his time, letting his fingers brush lightly over your spine as he draws the zipper over your back. When he’s done and the clasp is latched, he kisses one shoulder lightly, and then the other.

“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning back against his warm body.

“No, honey,” he kisses the top of your head, “thank you.”

_____________________________________________________________

By the time you and Aaron arrive at Rossi’s mansion, the party is already in full swing. Judging by the number of cars in the makeshift parking lot on his spacious front lawn, there must be at least fifty, maybe even a hundred people here.

Despite the bustle of the evening, it doesn’t take long for you two to find Emily, Penelope, and Derek in the living room, drinks in hand, snacking on some very expensive looking food.

“Hey, look! It’s the Hotchners!” Emily cheers, teetering on the arm of the leather couch, wine glass in hand.

“Hello beautiful BAU power-couple!” Penelope chimes in from the seat next to her, cuddled up into Derek’s side.

You laugh and let go of Aaron’s hand, walking over to greet your friends.

“Hey hot stuff, look at you, look at you!” Derek chimes in, eyeing you up and down before standing to shake Aaron’s hand.

“Oh, please,” you roll your eyes at him as you give Emily a big hug.

“And you don’t look bad yourself, boss man!” Derek adds.

You shoot your husband an ‘I told you so’ look over your shoulder, before untangling your arms from Emily and giving Penelope an equally enthusiastic squeeze.

“It’s good to see you all,” Aaron smiles lightly, all dimples in the low light. He steps in to give Emily and Penelope soft hugs.

“Let’s go get you a drink,” Derek says to Aaron, clapping him on the back.

“White?” Aaron looks to you, even though he already knows the answer.

“Yes please,” you respond, “thank you.”

“Be back soon,” he smiles easily, kissing your cheek, making your heart ache.

Aaron and Derek turn and exit the room together.

Penelope drunkenly pats the seat next to her, and you plop down on the couch.

“We’ve missed you like this!” Emily exclaims, gesturing between the three of you and around the room. “I can’t believe we’ve had to wait nine whole months plusanother four just to have a drink with our best friend again.”

You laugh at her, tilting your head back lightly. “Well, you guys got a beautiful little niece out of it, doesn’t that make up for all the wild girl’s nights I missed?”

Emily sighs, dramatically, “I guess so,” she jests.

“Oh, for sure.” Penelope adds. “You look freaking gorgeous, by the way. I mean, I would have never guessed you were creating a tiny human in that body only a few months ago!”

You blush lightly at her words, “You flatter me far too much, Pen. I owe this,” you gesture down at your figure, “all to Spanx!”

“Amen!” Emily toasts. You raise an imaginary glass to theirs and pretend to clink, taking a swig of invisible liquid.

“Are J.J. and Will here?” You ask them after they’ve had a few more sips of their wine.

“Yeah, yeah,” Emily nods, “they’re around somewhere.”

You take a moment and look around the room, taking in all the sights and the sounds of the party. You see some faces you recognize from around the bureau, but others you don’t. Just as you’re about to turn back to your friends, someone catches your eye. One face stands out from the crowd: he’s a young, suave-looking man in a sharp navy suit. Sandy hair perfectly gelled, shiny brown loafers, and bright blue eyes looking right at you. In another life you would have been exhilarated by his attention, apparent charm, and good looks, but now? Now, you’re married to the love of your life with an amazing stepson and a wonderful baby girl. His wolfish gaze means absolutely nothing to you. You simply flash him a curt smile and turn back to Emily and Penelope without a second thought.

You and your friends resume your chatter, waiting for the men to return with more drinks... only they don’t. Perhaps its “new mother anxiety” talking, but the longer your husband is gone, the more you start to grow concerned. A few more minutes pass of antics, laughter, and catching up until the nagging voice in the back of your head turns into an all-out scream. All you know is that you’re suddenly feeling very overwhelmed need to be with Aaron. So, you announce to your friends that you’re going to hunt down Derek and your husband.

You stand from the couch and smooth out the skirt of your dress with the promise to be back in a few minutes.

You walk out of the living room and into the grand foyer, following the same route as Aaron had earlier. Your black kitten heels click on the marble flooring, the skirt of your dress swishing lightly as you walk with purpose towards the kitchen. You’re so concentrated on reaching your destination that you don’t realize the man who had been watching you in the living room was now hot at your heels, following you through the house. It’s only when a hand reaches out and jerks your arm backward that you stop, startled, just past the grand staircase, turning face to face with him.

“You’re not an easy woman to get alone,” he smirks, reeking of alcohol, still gripping your arm, tight. Up close he is decidedly not as handsome as the low light of the living room made him seem. In fact, he seems… creepy. Really, really, really, creepy.

“Can I help you?” You blink at him, pulling your arm out of his vice grip.

“You sure can, baby,” he steps closer to you, voice oozing with sleaze. You gag at the liquor on his breath.

Moving away, you scowl at him, crossing your arms across your chest.

“What’s say you and I head upstairs for a little while? I’m dying to get my hands on your body.” He jerks his head toward the staircase, reaching out to grab your arm again.

You’re fuming at this point, ready give him a piece of your mind when a stern voice beats you to it.

“Excuse me, what do you think you’re doing?” Aaron articulates, approaching you both with Derek not far behind.

You breathe a sigh of relief as your husband glares at the drunken man vengefully, coming to stand by your side. Aaron pulls you into him, roughly, hand tight around your waist. The anger radiating off your husband is equally terrifying and HOT.

“Take a walk, man,” Derek adds in, coming to stand next to the drunken asshole. The man looks from you, to Aaron, then over to Derek, and finally back at you.

“Whatever,” the man grumbles, putting his hands up, “she’s not worth it anyway. Not pretty enough for the hassle. I just thought she looked like an easy lay.”

“That’s enough,” Aaron snaps, seething. “Leave now, before I make you,” your husband growls. He angles his body forward so you’re slightly behind him. A shiver passes through you at his fierce protectiveness.

“Fine, I’m going to get another drink,” the man utters.

“No,” Aaron interjects, “the party. Leave the party or I’ll have you removed.”

“What’s your problem?” The creepy man retorts, this time, more confrontationally.

“My problem?” Aaron says, angrily. You feel his entire body tense at the accusation.

“Hotch,” Derek warns, “I’ll take care of it. You guys go enjoy yourselves. Forget about him.”

“Come on, Aaron,” you tug on his suit jacket lightly, eyes pleading… but Aaron doesn’t budge from his spot. He only holds you tighter as he continues to stare down the man as Derek ushers him away and towards the front door. He doesn’t falter until they are out of sight.

“Aaron?” You repeat.

He looks down at you, finally, blinking away the fury until all that’s left is an all-consuming love. He releases you from his protective hold, and you face him.

“I’m okay,” you assure him in earnest, letting out a shaky breath.

“Honey, I’m so sorry,” he breathes, bringing his hands up to cup your face.

“Aaron, it’s okay, really,” you bite your lip, shifting your eyes away from his.

“You’re so beautiful,” Aaron kisses your forehead, and then the top of your head. “So, so beautiful, and I’m so sorry.”

“Aaron, can we just go home?” You ask.

“Sure,” he kisses your head one last time before weaving his fingers between yours and guiding you gently toward the back exit.

_____________________________________________________________

The car ride home is quiet. The only sounds are the occasional click of the turn signal, and the hum of the wheels on the road. Aaron is still upset, and so are you, but you’re also… something else. Something you can’t quite put your finger on. You feel guilty for ruining the evening, guilty that you FEEL guilty for something you had no control over, hungry, tired, and… horny? Oh, and guilty for feeling horny.

It isn’t helping that one of Aaron’s hands is planted firmly on your thigh. He lifts it only to adjust the air conditioning or to scratch his nose, but otherwise it remains on you the whole way home. When he pulls into the driveway of your shared house, and shuts the car off, he still doesn’t move it.

“Honey?” You turn your head to look at him. His eyes are closed. You take in the strong features of his profile, noting the prominence of his nose and the way his eyelashes rest on his high cheekbones.

“I almost punched him.” Aaron whispers, opening his eyes to look over at you sheepishly.

“You what,” you exhale, mouth slightly agape.

“That guy,” he continues, bringing his left hand up to pinch his nose. “I almost punched him for saying that about you.”

You snort, amused by his confession.

Your husband lets out a short laugh, squeezing your thigh as he does.

“I would’ve liked to see that.” You’re grinning now and so is he.

He flashes his eyes at you and laughs again, this time less anxiously. You join him, feeling the tension dissipate with every passing moment.

“My big, bad FBI man decking a barely-legal drunk dickhead for making a move on his wife? Where can I get my tickets?” You joke.

As you say the words “his wife,” Aaron’s breath hitches in his throat. His hand on your thigh presses down instinctively. Neither of his reactions go unnoticed.

You lay a hand over his where it rests on your leg.

“You know, Aaron,” you begin.

He looks over at you, jaw tight, but this time it isn’t from anger.

“This is the first time we’ve had the house all to ourselves in months,” you pull his hand off you and bring it up to your lips. You press a kiss to his palm, and then to his wrist.

“This… is true,” he breathes out, studying you, taking you in.

“So, I’m just wondering:” you grin, linking your fingers with his, “are you going to carry your wife into our house, Aaron? Or do I have to walk myself?”

[voltage-vixen]

Mutual Victory

Fandom: Oops, I Said Yes?! (Voltage)

Pairing: Shu Hasunuma x MC(F)

Prompt: Sighs. “Guess we’re going to have to hope our kids take after me then.”

Warnings: None!

“Ha, I won again!” 

The otaku buried his fingers through the locks of his hair, while uttering a complete groan of despair as his wife boasted through her fit of giggles. Collapsing down onto their bed, Shu pondered over the thought that sometime over the course of his relationship with MC, her gaming skills had become nearly on par with his own….on par to the point where she had proven herself to be a formidable foe as his rival in the battle of 2D characters fighting to the brink of virtual death. 

Shu struggled with the internal conflict of feeling proud of his wifey for being able to accomplish the feat of claiming victory over him, yet he also faced despair upon realizing that he potentially would lose his reign to the ultimate gamer title between the two of them. 

“You only won because I taught you so well, AND because I allowed you to win,” Shu grumbled, his cheeks tinted in a faint blush. 

“Aw, you’re cute when you pout,” MC teased, playfully rubbing the scruff of his hair. “Since I won fair and square, is there anyway I can steal a congratulatory kiss from you?”

With his shoulders slumped, Shut pretended to contemplate MC’s request, soaking in the adorable sight of the way she anxiously fidgeted around waiting for his consent. 

“Alright, that’s fine,” Shu freely relented. “Consider this a reward from your senpai for the development of your newfound mad gaming skills.”

Extending his arm towards MC, Shu’s hand clasped around her wrist to draw his wife into the embrace of his chest. Encircling her tightly, he nuzzled his chin over the top of her head.

“Relish in the victory while you can, because I can assure you it won’t be happening again,” Shu retorted.

“Are you really that salty about my upset?” MC chuckled, beaming at how adorable Shu was when he furrowed his brows. Sighs. “Guess we’re going to have to hope our kids take after me then in terms of humility.”

“..................................................................................................................”

Shu’s breathing came to a halt. His heart stopped pounding. Did his wife just mention children? Having children with HIM?

“Um, ugh, um,” the otaku stuttered, the knowledge of words unable to be processed by his brain. “Um, did you say ‘our kids’? As in, you creating them with ME?” 

“Who else would I make them with outside of my loving husband?” MC murmured before drawing his face closer to hers. 

Their lips touched in an exchange of soft and gentle kisses, soon escalating when MC nudged on his chest to push him back flat against the mattress. Settling herself on top of Shu’s stomach, the man was lost in admiration for the beautiful women above him. Reaching upwards, his fingers delicately stroked the silkiness of her cheek. 

Having children with the women he loved was more than anything he could have ever hoped to dream of. A victory beyond compare. He may have lost the battle of gaming dueling moment’s prior, but no defeat could ever concede the victory in this moment of pure joy and bliss. 

Tonight, there was a mutual victory declared as MC removed the glasses from his face and set them on the nightstand while forgoing opening the top drawer that held the one item that provided the barrier normally separating them. 

The light from the menu screen of the game still displayed on the television glared brightly; fading into the oblivion of the eventual dawn sun as the loving couple spent the entire eve reaffirming in their mutual victory upon one another. 

[littleredwing89]

Dating Damian Wayne H/C

A/N: This was sent in as a request by @xx-k-i-t-t-y-xx (Dating Damian Wayne - Older). I hope you like it :)

I am linking this headcannon directly to @internalsealpanic​ and the fic Camp Crystal What read here 🤍🤍🤍🤍 my awesome wifey helped me so much with writing this H/C so massive thanks :) love you. xoxo ---

Dating Damian Wayne H/C (Older):

Be ready to get teased and questioned by both his family and his team. They can’t help it. Whilst deep down they’re happy, they can’t help the little bit of playful banter. Plus seeing Damian get all flustered and blushing about you shows them just how much you mean to him.

Jon - his best friend - is now a part of you too. Jon knows how happy you make Damian and that tells him all he needs to know about you. You’re perfect for him. Prepare to become extremely close with Jon.

Damian introduces you to Bruce and Alfred, and Bruce wonders if he needs to have ‘the talk’ with Damian. Alfred strongly advises against it. Not unless Bruce wants to end up on the wrong side of a katana.

Damian is super protective of you. You’re his beloved after all. He will do everything in his power to make sure you’re safe.

With your knowledge and passion for mechanics, you work for the Justice League. Damian was opposed at first, he wanted you out of vigilante business, but once Bruce explained you would be surrounded by Earths greatest protectors, he soon came around.

Plus, Damian loves bringing his gadgets and equipment for you to fix. He loves watching you work. He finds it calming. He admires your passion and intelligence.

He is bad at expressing his love verbally but you can feel it from constant physical affection he showers you with. Light kisses to your temple. His hand drawing circles on your knee as you read in his arms, whilst he sketches. Holding your hand as you walk Titus through Wayne manor grounds.

He is always happy to lend you one of his hoodies. The hoodie drowns you and he adores seeing you in his clothes.

Before he asked you on a date, Damian spoke to Dick wanting his advice. He knew his brother would tease him but hearing you say yes was worth all the sibling torment he endured.

Damian automatically puts himself between you and any perceived threat, be it a person or a car. He even will go as far as walking on the road side of the pavement. He wants you as safe as possible. You’re always in his eye line no matter where you are; the grocery store, the library.

Your dates will either be fancy restaurants or trips to the animal sanctuary.

The latter is his preference but he is willing to take you out on more traditional dates. He knows you love them. Plus he loves treating you.

Damian has a good chunk of his sketchbook dedicated to you.

Damian was really shy about asking you to pose for him so he used to sketch you from photos he took sneakily when you weren’t looking or photos you have lying around your apartment.

When you discover the sketches he finally plucks up the courage to ask you to pose for him. You happily obliged. You’re touched. Plus his artwork is beautiful. He captures you in so many different mediums and art forms.

He has definitely painted a photo of the two of you to hang up in your apartment. There’s even one of you, Jon and Damian on a day out together.

He would have a really intimate pet name for you such as ‘my heart’ or ‘my blood’.

Damian has a short temper but you calm him instantly. Be it a touch of your hand in his. Brushing your fingers through his hair. Running your palm over his cheek. Pulling him into a tight hug, murmuring soft words of comfort in his ear. You bring him stability. Serenity.

Titus would adore you. He’d know how much you meant to his owner and would cuddle up with you both on the sofa or in bed whilst you watch a film or a tv series together.

Titus will have a permanent space on your bed. He’s as protective of you as Damian.

Watching animal or nature documentaries together, wrapped up in a thick woolly blanket with mugs of hot chocolate on rainy, stormy days.

He will no doubt show you off when he takes you to a Wayne Gala event. It’s no secret the Wayne kids don’t enjoy the limelight but having you attend with him makes it all worthwhile.

Plus seeing you in a deep crimson dress fills his heart with pride.

---

[lifeofkaze]

Cherry Blossoms

Neville Longbottom x Reader

 A/N: Dear @nevilles-top​ you picked 🌸 and that’s what came of it. Enjoy Wifey C, love you loads 💛💚

Warning: NSFW, +18 only, exhibitionism (kinda?)

Word Count: ~ 1.900

Her neighbours had no decency.

Mrs. Poppy Wilson had always prided herself on living in a proper neighbourhood with proper families. But the new couple that had moved in next door had been a thorn in her side from the beginning. Well, they weren’t exactly new, they had moved in over a year ago; but they had been a source of aggravation ever since. Whenever she saw the two of them, they would touch each other, holding hands or even kiss in public. She wasn’t even sure they were married.

She was leaving her house on this egregiously hot day in late spring when the sound of cheerful whistling caught her attention. Peaking over the edge of her perfectly trimmed hedge, she saw her neighbour tending to blooming flowers in his front yard. Due to the heat, he wasn’t wearing a shirt. He looked perfectly scruffy and Mrs. Wilson stared at his exposed chest disdainfully, an indignant huff leaving her lips. Didn’t he care what people would think?

Startled at the sound, Neville Longbottom lifted his head and raised his hand in greeting with a mock smile as he saw his uptight old neighbour staring from beyond the edge of his garden. Not wanting to associate with the likes of him, Mrs. Wilson turned on her heel and marched off.

 *

But Mrs. Wilson hadn’t been the only one observing the scene.

You watched the old hag make her way to her car before your attention turned back onto the sight unfolding before you. Neville had been working in the blazing heat for the better part of an hour now. You could see from your spot by the window kitchen how he wiped the sweat off his brow before lumping another sack of garden soil onto his worktable underneath the blossoming cherry tree dominating the place.

Neville had gotten the tree for you as a birthday present last year, because he knew how much you loved the sight of it in bloom. It had been way smaller back then, but of course Neville knew the odd trick to make it grow into a magnificent tree much faster than it would have under normal circumstances. It bloomed longer and brighter than others, often drawing wondrous glances from people passing by.

You watched in awe as he expertly tended to the plants he had been growing over the course of the winter. A shiver ran down your spine as you saw how tenderly he handled the small seedlings, imagining how his rough hands would feel on your heated skin right now.

Neville was fully concentrated on his task, the tip of his tongue, which you knew he could work wonders with, slightly peeking out between his luscious lips. Not being able to withstand his gravity any longer, you grabbed two glasses and a jug of lemonade, carefully bearing your charge outside on a tray.

His face instantly lit up as he saw you approaching. He gracefully accepted the drink you offered him, gulping the first glass down in mere seconds. You could imagine how hot his flushed skin must be from working in the sun, the speckled shadows of the branches of the cherry tree not casting a lot of shade.

As he poured himself another glass, he caught you staring.

“What?” he smirked, his mouth curving into that crooked smile that never failed to make your stomach dip.

“Nothing,” you mumbled, blushing a bright red. To overplay the situation, you hastily set your glass to your lips, letting the cool drink wash down your throat in deep gulps.

You heard Neville chuckle deeply as he set down his own glass, moving over to you.

“Someone seems thirsty today.”

You almost spit out your drink again. Coughing from surprise, you couldn’t help but stare at his lean arms that crossed in front of his chest. You didn’t get that kind of muscles from working out; they were shaped by the hard physical work Neville loved to do so much.

Noticing you were staring again, you knew you might as well be honest. “Can you blame me? I mean, look at you all being topless and scruffy like that,” you whined.

Neville’s smile widened and his eyes sparkled with amusement. “I meant the drink,” he laughed.

As he saw the shade of your face deepen, he reached for the belt you wore to cinch your dress in and hooked his finger under it, pulling you towards him.

“But if that is what you need...”

He didn’t finish his sentence but you wouldn’t have listened anyway. Your breath hitched as you felt Neville’s breath against your ear, then his lips on your neck as his mouth planted light, feathery kisses on your skin.

You sighed appreciatively at the tingling he left on your skin before you turned your head around to meet his lips. The kiss was tender at first, but it quickly deepened, desire rising in both of your chests. Neville moaned against your mouth as you nipped his bottom lip, grabbing you by the waist and turning you around. Without breaking your contact, he steered you backwards until your back hit the wooden wall of the tool shed next to the cherry tree.

A gasp escaped you as Neville’s hands travelled down your sides, firmly gripping your thighs and hoisting you up, now only held up by his body and the shed behind you. You wrapped your legs around him and buried your hands in his hair, feeling his growing erection press against you.

The support he gave you suddenly shifted as he let go of one of your thighs to nestle with the clasp of your holder-neck dress. It quickly came undone and Neville lost no time in pulling it down, exposing your bare chest to the sunlight. You dipped your head back as his tongue teasingly played with one of your nipples, while a gentle breeze caressed your bare skin.

“What about the neighbours?” you barely manage to rasp out, concentration rapidly dwindling at Neville gently sucking on your tits.

“They’re out,” Neville hummed, the vibration of his words making you shudder.

All your concerns were drowned in a cry of pleasure as Neville’s hand pushed the hem of your dress up further and let this thumb run over your clit through the fabric of your panties. He knew exactly how to touch you to drive you absolutely mad.

Your hands still tangled in his hair gripped tighter and you bit down on where his shoulder and his neck connected; not hard, but hard enough to coax a hungry groan from your man.

There was nothing but heat now, around you from the blazing sun, inside you from the rhythmic circles Neville’s skilled fingers were drawing. As he noticed your squirming against him, he withdrew his hand.

“Slowly now, doll,” he growled into your ear. “I don’t want to miss out on all the fun.”

He set you down to let you remove your panties. You immediately grabbed his hand, pulling him into the direction of the door to the shed. You didn’t think you could wait any longer to feel him inside you.

But Neville didn’t move. He pulled you back towards him, the fly of his jeans now open; he hadn’t pulled his trousers down more than he had to. At the sight of his hard cock waiting for you, you bit your lower lip, anticipation coursing through your body like an electric surge.

“Come on, now,” you whined impatiently, but Neville shook his head.

“The weather’s beautiful darling. I want to feel the sun on my back when I do you in by every trick in the book.

With that his arms encircled you again. He pushed you back against the wall and groaned as you propped one of your legs up on the nearby table, granting him unobstructed access to your dripping pussy.

“What are you waiting for then?” you moaned, knowing full well how to turn your man on even more.

With a flash in his eyes, Neville buried his face in your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin as he pushed his cock inside you. By now, you were so wet for him, he didn’t lose any time by waiting for you to adjust, but started pounding into you in a demanding rhythm that took your breath away.

The breeze from before had picked up, sending a shower of light pink flowers down on you. You would have laughed at the cheesy scenery of you being fucked by Neville in a whirl of blossoms, but you didn’t even notice.

Everything around you had faded, everything but Neville and the way your laboured breaths came in unison with the grinding of your bodies against each other. Your head swam with passion, and you raked your nails across Neville’s bare back as you felt your release draw nearer.

After a few more thrusts the knot that had been building inside your stomach was close to bursting, when you suddenly heard the door of a car slam shut and the unmistakable scuffing step of your nosey neighbour drawing nearer.

You slowed down for a brief second, knowing full well the drama that would ensue if she saw the two of you getting it off in your garden.

But you were so close and Neville, sensing your hesitation, locked eyes with you, holding your gaze. He held a finger to his lips, motioning for you to be silent, all the while maintaining the constant rhythm of his thrusts.

He brought his hand down and laid it on your clit again, rubbing over your sweet spot with his thumb. You couldn’t keep it together any longer. Your orgasm exploded with might, the waves of pleasure making you shiver uncontrollably, threatening to drown you. You clung to Neville for dear life, your head filled with his scent of earth and sunscreen and passion.

Neville silenced your muffled cry of pleasure with a searing kiss, your body shuddering against him and the feeling of your walls tightening around his cock sending him over the edge as well. He groaned against your mouth, all care forgotten.

 *

Mrs. Wilson was annoyed.

Not only had she missed her train into town and had been forced to return home early, she was still flustered at the audacity of her neighbour’s shirtless gardening antics.

When she entered her front yard, she furrowed her brow. If she hadn’t known any better, she could have sworn she had heard a muffled scream from the other side of the thick hedge separating their gardens.

What were those unruly people up to again?

With determination she marched to the spot where she knew the foliage of the hedge was thin enough to look through.

And sure enough, as she peeked through the bushes, she saw her neighbours both outside now, sitting at the wooden worktable under their outrageously blooming cherry tree. They were sipping lemonade and stole kisses now and again.

She huffed indignantly, the sound of it drawing their attention. As they saw her face through the gap in the hedge, they raised their glasses in salute, laughing more happily than they had any right to.

As they started kissing again, Mrs. Wilson turned around and rolled her eyes.

She’d had enough of these people.

No decency whatsoever.

[draconic-ichor]

In the Steel Steeds Heart

Chapter 23: Desperate Passions

Warnings: strong language, sexual themes, oral sex, penetrative sex, nipple play, nipple piercings, scars/stitches, fingering

Summary: Juniper is fully healed and ready to get back to one of their favorite hobbies!

Feedback appreciated. 18+. This is a smut heavy chapter

“What are we having tonight, love?” Heisenberg asked, sitting back in the wooden chair. He had returned from working to find her over the stove, a simmering pot filling the apartment with a delicate fragrance.

“Pilaf.” She answered sweetly.

“Ah…alright.” Heisenberg nodded, her answer not making anything more clear to him.

He cut open a cigar, lighting it and bringing it to his lips as he watched her.

She pulled two deep plates out of the cabinet, looking towards him, “Get anything exciting made today?”

He made a prideful rumble, speaking through the cigar, “Mhm. The Soldat Zwei is almost finished. Give the bastard one, maybe two, good days of work and he should be up.”

“They are the ones with two drills right?”

“Correct. Moved the reactor core to the back as well.”

“When are you starting the….the Pan..pan?” She couldn’t find the words, placing a glass of water and silverware on the table.

“The Panzer?”

“Yea that one! They looked big.”

“Oh, sweetheart, it will be.” He gave a devilish smile, “Gotta wait till I get a bastard built like a shit brick house for that one.”

“Like Sturm?” She scooped food into the deep plates.

“Unfortunately…yes.” He frowned, that creature still brought him nothing but grief.

Juniper placed a plate before him, before taking a seat with her own.

Fuck me…what is this?

Heisenberg gulped looking at the meal. It was a pile of rice with chicken, carrots, mushrooms and herbs mixed in. It smelled normal and appetizing but left much to be desired to the eyes.

Juniper took a bite, looking at him through narrow eyes.

“Love, did you make bread as well?” He asked hopefully.

“No, there’s rice in here.” She pointed her fork at him, “And vegetables. Eat it.”

He made a little grumble, tucking into his food. It tasted good, the rice made with the broth from the chicken and the herbs giving it a homely taste.

…Thank god.

Heisenberg thought, mercifully, as he started eating with more gusto. Juniper loved to cook, and loved seeing him eat what she made even more. But her passion for the craft was almost matched with her desire to strive to make each meal healthy. Even if it meant throwing in things that tasted like death to pack more nutrients into every meal.

Heisenberg didn’t know if it was her trying to curb his lack of anything healthy or some Devine  force punishing him for his terrible daily diet for decades. In any case, it was a small price to pay for her happiness.

He finished his plate, even going back for a second. On the way back to his seat he paused, giving Juniper a soft pat on top of her head with his free hand. She beamed up at him.

They spoke more of his upcoming Soldat plans over dinner. Heisenberg explained how the Panzers should be immune to most types of damage, save for heavier explosions. They would be risky to produce and time consuming but a good last line of defense.

“Will all the armor put stress on the core?” Juniper asked.

He nodded, “I’ll have to use the bigger exhaust port like on Sturm but take in the energy production per energy draw to the multiple drills.”

“So they don’t overheat?”

“Precisely. I don’t want them spitting fire like the big boy.” Heisenberg pointed out.

After Juniper cleaned up the mess from dinner, Heisenberg ushered her into the bathroom. She followed him, used to this routine, she pulled her dress off and sat on the sink. Heisenberg leaned  on his palms against the counter on either side of her, dipping in to give her a kiss. She deepened the contact, hands finding the sleeves of his button up shirt.

He gave a happy little rumble, pulling away enough to inspect her incision. She sat still, waiting as he looked her over with a critical eye. The infection was completely gone, the tissue a healthy healing pink.

“I can probably remove the stitches, if you’d like.” He concluded.

“Please.” She almost begged, “They itch.”

He stood, chuckling, “Itching is good, means it’s healing.”

He retrieved a sharp pair of scissors, pouring a bit of peroxide over the blades before kneeling before her once more. With careful cuts he snipped through the stitches, pulling them free with deft fingers.

He tossed them away one by one into the trash can. Juniper watched him with big eyes.

“Will it scar?” Juniper asked quietly.

“Afraid so, Darling.” Heisenberg frowned.

Her eyes looked glassy, glancing over the pinkish new tissue.

Heisenberg took her face in his hands, lifting her chin up to meet his gaze. She wilted a bit.

"What's up?" He asked, concern in his gaze.

"Hmm…" She almost didn't answer, looking away, "I don’t want you to think I’m ugly…I have really bad scars…”

“Are you fucking serious.” Heisenberg’s lips were a fine line, “Look at me.”

She met his eyes, him correcting her, “No look at all of me. Look at all the shit my body has been through.”

Her eyes wavered, scanning him over. He was covered in scars, his skin was a patchwork of pearlescent lattice, even his face sporting a few.

“I am a scarred, fucked up old man.” He said plainly, “You are so fucking beautiful. A few scars can’t change that.”

Her eyes watered, cheeks growing rosey.

His face split with a grin, “Have I ever hesitated to bend your ass over every flat surface in this factory?”

 “…no.” She mumbled.

“Don’t  you even start to think I don’t find you sexy as all hell, ok love?”

“Mmmm.”

“What?”

“You haven’t bent me over anything in months.” Juniper pouted in his hands.

Heisenberg looked at her a moment before throwing back his head and barking out with laughter.

“You were healing!” He bared his teeth playfully, “But you’re all fixed up now, how about I show you how much you drive me fucking wild?”

Juniper smiled, nuzzling into his cupped hands, “Please, master?”

“Oh Honey.” He almost purred, “Keep that up and you’ll be bedridden again.”

They made their way back to the bedroom, Heisenberg catching her up in a messy kiss. While she was distracted he removed the rest of her clothing, backing her up until her calves touched the bed.

He lightly pushed her back, Juniper making a little ‘oof’ as she hit the bed. She propped herself up on her elbows, smiling as Heisenberg fell to his knees before her.

He didn’t dive straight into her heat like she expected, instead pulling her by the ankles closer to the edge.

His eyes were dark and hungry as he dipped his head in to drop rough kisses up the length of her leg. Juniper shivered at the heat of his mouth as he trailed ever closer to the place she wanted him desperately.

His lips lingered on the softness of her inner thigh, sucking a dark blotch there. He pulled free with a wet pop, meeting her gaze. She was already flushed.

“I’m going to have to re-mark my claim on you.” He almost purred the words.

“Make me yours in every way.” She spoke sweetly.

“I plan to.” He promised, kissing upwards.

He dropped a kiss just above her clit, smiling when her breath hitched. She made a little sound of want when he pulled away, thrusting her hips up in an effort to urge him back. Heisenberg growled as his large hands found her legs, pushing her down against the bed.

Juniper whimpered, watching him move higher.

He kissed along her scar, eyes flicking up to meet hers. The new tissue was sensitive under his lips, his beard making her skin prickle.

“Fucking perfect.” He concluded when he covered its length, his hands forcing her thighs more apart, “Every part.”

“…stop.” Juniper’s cheeks reddened further.

“Oh no.” He gave a devilish smile, “No mercy for you my little wifey.”

She gave a little mewl at his tone, her core clenching air.

“I was looking forward to dessert all night.” His face split with a mirthful grin.

“Then come get it!” She bared her teeth a bit playfully

Heisenberg dove into her sex, eating her like a starving man. He was messy and forceful, causing her to melt in seconds. He growled into her flesh, already feeling her tighten under him. He pulled away, scoring his thumb over her clit as he licked slick from his lips, “Already such a damn mess for me.”

“It’s…it’s been a w-while.” She spoke between pants.

 “Too long.” He agreed, going back in.

He made sure to pull multiple orgasms from her with only his mouth and hands, stopping every so often to trail kisses up her abdomen. She was breathy and blissed out, completely forgetting her earlier self-consciousness.

He stood, giving her a moment of mercy. Juniper watched him, breasts quaking as she regained her breath. Her skin was already glistening with a light sheen of sweat, stray onyx curls stuck to her forehead. Heisenberg slowly removed each layer of clothing, almost making a show of it under her hungry gaze.

Finally kicking off his boxers he crawled onto the bed. The bed creaked under their combined weight as he loomed over her.

Juniper eager hands found him quickly, squeezing the thick ropes of muscle that made his arms.

“Pretty impressive eh?” He smirked cockily.

Her fingers slid upwards, fanning over his chest. She gave him a little devilish look as she found his only nipple piercing.

His breath hitched a bit as she toyed with it; coming almost unglued entirely when her head quickly dipped in to take the metal into her mouth.

The movement was almost too fast for him to react before the sensation rippled through his body. Juniper was spurred on when she saw how his body shivered in response, deepening the contact.

Heisenberg pushed her away, holding her down against the bed with strong hands. He swallowed, “That’s enough of that.”

Juniper licked her lips, the taste of metal and skin on her tongue, “Seemed to like it.”

He ground his teeth a bit, aware of his hard cock. He caught her lips up with his own before she could continue.

He kept her occupied, grouping down her body as he lined himself up. She gasped into his mouth when she felt the weeping tip bump her folds. He pulled away to brace himself over her.

“Fuck, I missed you.” His voice was low and almost wavering as he pushed into her. Juniper’s back arched, moaning as his cock stretched her out deliciously.

Her core was tight from the months without him.

He started pumping into her almost desperately, lifting her legs to hook around his waist. With the better angle he was able to reach deeper, rubbing against her g-spot with every thrust.

She clawed down his back, crying out every time their hips sloppily met together.

The sex was messy and raw, both needing to feel the release of pent up passions. Heisenberg groaned out breathily, hands finding purchase in the mattress to buck into her harder.

He felt her tense under him. “F-Fuck! Come for me Doll. Come on my cock!” He grunted out, moving a hand to her clit. His thumb scored quick circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Juniper buckled under him, sobbing out her release. A surge of slick coated his cock as her cunt clamped down on him.

She felt divine, like liquid velvet around him. Heisenberg became a mess of sounds himself, balls slapping into her ass roughly as he chased his own release.

His hips jolted, bottoming out in her. She felt him pulse as her insides were flooded with hot ropes of come.

She felt extremely full, bits of his release oozing out around his cock.

He settled over her, wanting to stay slotted within her walls. Catching her breath she pulled his face closer, peppering his jaw with kisses.

He gave a little rumble of amusement, letting her fawn over him.

~

They tangled into one another, the darkness filled with the sounds of their heavy breathes and soft moans. A hunger of the flesh deep in their minds. Words weren’t needed. Their touches, tinged with desperation for an act both had feared would be lost to them, was everything in that moment.

Skin to skin, a heartbeat felt under fingertips. The world outside the bed didn’t exist, the nightmares couldn’t reach them.

Heisenberg pressed his body against Juniper’s, his cock never leaving her. In the soft lulls between rounds of sex he held her close, wanting to feel over every inch of her. She thankfully held onto him, losing track of the hours. He nipped into the soft flesh of her throat, huffing out hotly when he heard her mewl.

He felt her tense under him as he rocked into her afresh. Juniper didn’t know how many rounds or orgasms they shared, the night becoming a blur of pleasure and overstimulation.

Eventually exhaustion overtook her and Juniper fell asleep against his chest. Heisenberg stayed fully inserted inside of her, softly tracing her spinal scar. Their bodies were stuck together with sweat, he could feel every breath and heartbeat of hers.

He let his mind wander to work. With the spring thaw here it would make collecting bodies from the grave easier, but also he would have to be much more on top of watching the village for casualties.

Juniper was his favorite distraction but she was a distraction nonetheless. He wouldn’t force her away, no, she gave him more purpose to strive to escape. She made his hunger to explore the world deeper, he wanted to give her a better life than the factory.

And he would give it to her.

[mypoisonedvine]

First Chanukah Together (Night 8) | Ari Levinson x reader

summary: Ari gives you an unexpected Chanukah present

word count: 1811

warnings: smut (with some overstimulation and a very slight housewife kink?), fluff… overall just pure self-indulgence my friends

You couldn’t imagine a better way to spend an evening than cuddled up with Ari on the couch, drinking hot cocoa with marshmallows, each of you reading your respective books (even though you were sort of struggling to focus on it with the weight of his arm around you).

As his hand rested on your thigh, his thumb gently stroked back and forth, barely moving but making you smile to yourself at the subtle contact. Another sip of cocoa warmed your chest before you set the mug aside along with your book, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend's thick torso.

"Hi beautiful," he greeted softly, setting his book down as well to hug you back. "Wanna move to the bedroom? I have something to show you."

"Ari, if you wanna have sex you can just say so—"

"No," he laughed. "Well, I mean, yeah but that's not what I was talking about."

"Oh," you sat up, "okay. What is it then?"

"I'll tell you in a second, okay, just come with me," he instructed as he got up, keeping your hand in his as you trailed behind him.

When you reached the bedroom, taking a quick look around to see if any obvious surprise was waiting, he turned to face you with a smile on his face.

“I know we didn’t really do presents this year," he explained, "but I got you something anyways.”

“Ari,” you smiled shyly, “you didn’t have to.”

“I know, but I wanted to.”

“I didn’t get you anything!” you protested. “I wish I had a present to give you.”

“Your present to me can be saying yes,” he suggested as he pulled the small velvet box from his back pocket and knelt down onto one knee.

“Ari…” you whispered, too shocked to say anything else. He grabbed your hands and clutched them with his own as he looked up at you.

“I know it’s soon, and a little sudden,” he sighed, “but being with you— it’s like a dream come true, really. You make every day so special and after spending my first Chanukah with you, I can’t imagine spending another with anybody else. I didn’t even know how happy I could be until I met you, and if you let me, I want to spend the rest of my life trying to make you that happy.”

You were speechless as you tried to process all this, watching him open the box to reveal a ring, the details of which you were unable to notice, opting instead to look at his face— his eyes sparkled brighter than the diamond, anyhow.

“Marry me?” he offered, almost sounding nervous, as if there was any chance you’d say no.

“Of course,” you nodded, “Ari— yes, I— yes!”

He grinned, maybe wider than you’d ever seen him smile, as he slipped the ring on your finger, standing up and pulling you into a tight hug.

"When did you—? How did you—? What?!" you stammered as you laughed.

"I got it yesterday, and I just couldn't wait any longer," he explained as he looked down at you, his own eyes watering a little. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," you answered softly. "Why did we have to come to the bedroom to do this?"

"So I could give you your engagement present," he grinned as he picked you up and tossed you onto the bed.

You yelped in surprise but happily let him tug at your jeans, lifting your hips so he could pull them down and toss them aside. Next was your sweater, and he'd barely gotten it over your head before he was kissing you again, grabbing your tits in his big hands, slipping his tongue between your lips.

"Please," you whimpered against his mouth.

"Whaddya want, pretty girl?" he asked quietly.

"Get naked," you pleaded as you tugged at his shirt, making him laugh a little.

"Alright," he agreed as he reached down to open his belt, that clinking sound of metal on metal making your hips wiggle instinctively. You were too busy staring at where his cock threatened to pop right out of his boxers to watch him unbutton and toss aside his shirt, or to notice as he leaned in to capture your lips with his again, his hand cupping your jaw and holding you close. You felt his necklace brush against your skin as he laid you down on your back, his body swallowing yours as he wrapped his arms around you.

You could feel his cock (still clothed, aggravatingly) pressing between your legs when you arched your back, making you moan while he lightly bit down on your bottom lip. "Please fuck me," you sighed, quiet but certainly audible as he grinned deviously.

"I love when you get desperate," he taunted, moving down to kiss your neck as his hands explored your body, stopping on their way to tease your nipples lightly.

"Fuck, Ari," you shivered.

"Beg a little more and maybe I'll put this cock in you, hm?" he teased, smiling against your shoulder before giving it a gentle bite.

"Ari, baby, please," you sighed. "Need you so much… want your come in me, please."

"You're getting there," he encouraged.

"I can't believe you're gonna be my husband," you smiled breathlessly as you tried to process the realization. "I wanna be your wife so bad."

That certainly got his attention as he moved back up to kiss your lips again, much more intense and dominating than you expected. "You're gonna make the perfect wife," he groaned, "with the way you open your legs up for me all the damn time."

You breathed in through your teeth as he pushed his boxers down, guiding his cock over your folds to find them completely soaked.

"I didn't know I was so conventional," he admitted, " but the idea of a pretty little wife waiting for me at home, wet and ready whenever I want… fuck, you're too good to me."

You moaned as he pushed into you, your head falling back onto the pillow. He liked to watch your face when he went in all the way, memorize your expression: overwhelmed with pleasure, just the slightest hint of pain twisting your brow as he stretched you open. Still, he waited for your nod of encouragement before moving, your lips falling slack as his cock dragged against your walls just right. "Ari," you whimpered, clutching his shoulders, "you feel so good inside me, fuck…"

He already knew exactly how to take you apart, and he was clearly making sure you knew it with the way he pumped his cock right against your spot, rubbing your clit with his calloused thumb. Your grip on his arms tightened, as did your grip somewhere a little more personal. "You like that?" he prompted.

"Yes," you agreed fervently, "right there, fuck."

He kept up his pace, not quite speeding up yet but slamming into you a little harder, hitting a little deeper.

"Fuck," you cried when he pushed so deep inside you that you saw stars.

"Yeah, that's how you want it, right? Want me to fill you up all the way, til there's none of you left?"

You were totally speechless, all you could do was nod and whine as he sped up the circles he was drawing on your clit. He played your body like an instrument, finding every spot until you were sobbing and begging incoherently. "Don't stop," you managed to get out between gasps.

"Not gonna stop, wanna feel you come on my cock," he purred against your ear, his deep voice sending shivers up your spine.

"Fuck, won't be much longer then," you laughed breathlessly. "God, you're so fucking good…"

"I know you love it so much," he grunted, "go ahead and make a mess for me baby, come for me…"

He was coaxing you through it but his words were distant and fuzzy as pleasure made your thoughts cloudy and your eyes heavy. Heat washed over you and you melted into him, your body tensing up all over before suddenly releasing and going limp beneath him.

"Yeah, just like that, fuck," he grunted, thrusting faster into your overstimulated body. "Look so pretty when you come… and you get so fuckin' wet, you hear that?"

How could you not hear the loud squelching noise that filled the room as he fucked you? You could feel wetness coating the inside of your thighs, too, and probably making a wet patch underneath you on the bed.

"Think you can do it again, pretty baby? I wanna see you come again."

"Ari," you pleaded with a whimper.

"I bet it won't take you long if I touch you like this," he posited, moving his thumb in quick swipes over your clit in the exact way that made your thigh shake uncontrollably.

"Ffffuck," you shuddered, trying to push his hand away only to have your wrists caught in his grip and held above your head. Funny how being helpless to him made you moan instantly, arching your back as your nipples hardened suddenly.

"Oh, you like it when I remind you that I'm so much stronger than you," he grinned. "Want me to have my way with you, little wifey?"

"Please," you whined as you bit down on your lip. He slammed into you again, hard and fast with just the right balance of brutality versus tenderness; and he was right, your second orgasm was well on its way, in part because the first one hadn't ever really finished.

"Want me to fill you up with my come? I'm close," he grunted his warning.

"Yes, want it in me, please," you moaned, shifting your hips so he could more easily fill you to the brim. He wasn't always the most vocal in bed (certainly very talkative, but often suppressing his sounds to just labored breathing) but something was different about tonight— he was making the most beautifully addictive sounds with every thrust, staring down at you with a darkness tinting his blue eyes. Just as the second wave really hit you hard, he came with a moan of your name, each hot rope of his come inside you accented with a pulse as the base of his cock, making you shiver and wrap your legs around him. You were so out of it from the intensity of your pleasure that you floated somewhere between sleep and consciousness as he pulled you closer, cradling you in his arms and planting a few soft kisses on your neck and cheek.

"I love you," you mumbled into his chest through the thick fog in your mind.

"I love you too," he returned, his words clearly moving through a smile.

That was the last night of your first Chanukah with Ari. And to think you were worried it wouldn't be special.

[leejungchans]

sunday morning — hong jisoo

word count | 0.7k

pairing | joshua (svt) x female reader

warning(s) | none!!

genre | fluff, parents au

summary: what song did you expect joshua to sing to your baby daughter?

a/n: i saw (affectionate) shua sunday morning agenda slander so this is my contribution 🤧🤧 ria bestie this is for you teehee thank you for the idea <3 @kwonsyoungs

Sunlight hits you squarely in the face when you wake up, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut as you roll over to face away from the window.

Joshua always forgets to draw the curtains properly.

Nuzzling your face into the pillow, you wonder how long it’d take for you to drift off into dreamland again. And you thought your sleep schedule prior to becoming a mother was already fifty shades of messed up.

You wouldn’t trade your happy family of three for anything in the world, but you’d be lying if you said you don’t miss sleeping in and napping whenever you want.

Eyes still tightly closed, your hand reaches out from underneath the covers to paw at Joshua’s side of the bed, and finally crack an eye open when you find it empty.

Now alert, you sit up abruptly, a decision you immediately regretted as the sudden jerk makes your head to spin and causes random shapes to scatter your vision. Where did your husband go? Did something happen with your daughter? What if he needs help?

You push the covers off your body and scramble out of bed instantly, tired self stumbling over your own feet as you make your way to the nursery. You can practically hear the erratic pounding of your heart in your ears from being so frazzled with worry. A million thoughts of what could be going wrong run through your mind. What if—

Your tense shoulders collapse with relief when you reach the nursery door.

Everything’s okay.

You know this because instead of hearing your daughter’s cries and Joshua’s hushed pleads, it’s the gentle strumming of a guitar that greets you, followed by your husband’s melodious singing voice just seconds later.

“Sunday morning, rain is falling. Steal some covers, share some skin. Clouds are shrouding us in moments unforgettable…”

A soft smile stretches across your face upon recognising the song. Of course Joshua Hong would choose to sing this song to your daughter. You still remember how disappointed Jeonghan looked when he found out that her first words were, in fact, not “Sunday morning”.

And to think the poor man spent an entire afternoon trying to teach your baby to utter those two words. A for effort, you suppose.

Carefully, you twist the doorknob and crack the door open, silently watching your husband and daughter through the small crack. Warmth blooms in your chest as Joshua continues to sing to your baby with nothing but pure adoration in his eyes. Your smile widens at the sight of your daughter’s wide, glossy eyes as she stares at the guitar he’s playing, seemingly entranced by the way his fingers move across the strings.

Despite Joshua’s insistence that it isn’t the case, you can quite confidently say that your daughter has indeed inherited his shiny doe eyes.

“Driving slow on Sunday morning, well, I never want to leave…”

The verse comes to a close, and when your baby babbles as though trying to sing along, you bite down on the inside of your cheek to stifle a giggle, wanting to take in this endearing moment between father and daughter for a little more before making your presence known.

Joshua’s beam is as radiant as the sunlight streaming through the blinds as he slowly sets his guitar on the ground. His large hand envelops your daughter’s much smaller one, and you think your heart might just burst from love when he presses a gentle kiss to her tiny fingers.

“That sounded beautiful, angel,” he coos to your overjoyed baby before suddenly turning to face you, “I’m sure your mom agrees, doesn’t she?”

You mirror his teasing grin. “Oh, so you knew I’ve been standing here all along?”

“It’s my wifey-sense,” Joshua jokes, smiling brightly at you as you step into his outstretched arm, which wraps securely around your waist as you gently lift your daughter out of her crib and into your arms.

���Already outsinging your dad, aren’t you, angel?” you ask affectionately while stroking her soft, chubby cheek. You like to think she understands from the way your words elicit high-pitched giggles from her.

Joshua pouts, getting up from the ground to stand beside you, one of his hands reaching for your baby’s to get her attention. “Don’t listen to your mom,” he whines, “she’s being mean to me as usual.”

“Bet Uncle Hannie will disagree. Right, angel? He’ll take your side over your dad’s any day,” you say, gently tickling your baby and smiling when she lets out squeals of laughter.

“Mother and daughter ganging up against me, I see,” Joshua grumbles, moving to stand behind you to wrap his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Good morning, love.”

You crane your neck slightly to look at him. “Good morning, Shua,” you say sweetly. “What a lovely way to start off our Saturday morning, hm?”

“Ah, I was wondering when you’d point that out.”

a/n: wanted to post this before it’s the 6th here hehe :3 dad svt makes me so soft you have no idea ;;;;; also i was so tempted to name their daughter gia ahsjhwjs 🤧💗 thank you for reading this and i promise longer fics are on their way ;;;

[the-fiction-witch]

Mariée Au Mal

REAL LIFE X DEVIL / WITCHES COUPLE: TBS X READER RATING: FLIRTY

I walked the stone streets hearing my boots against the stone. Hearing the movement of my dress almost touching the stone. I felt the chill of the wind around me. The darkness crept across the village as the sun set beyond the hill. Every step I took I could hear and see, children being ushered inside, doors being bolted, windows being shut and locked. The whispers of the name they had given me. 'mariée au mal' I knew what it meant. I knew their assumptions about me. I tried not to think of it.

I looked at my shadow walking down the path with the light from the sunset, I looked to my left to a shop the blind already down, but a few shutters where someone peaked out, those instantly dropped as I looked and the door bolted I saw my reflection my long purple dress, black petticoats, black corset, my black hooded cloak, my tall riding boots, my twisted y/h/c hair and blood red lips. I continued on my way moving my wicker basket up my arm a little more, checking on the lavender and honey I had gathered across the forest this afternoon. I walked quickly trying not to draw attention to myself before reaching the graveyard and the little river that ran beside it, perched on the graveyard gate sat a raven it cawed at me so I smiled and offered my hand letting it perch on my ring as I walked over the little stone bridge over the river pushing open the little gate to my house. The twisted metal whining as I did I walked the sweet path through my garden until I arrived at my little thatched cottage with leaded glass windows and the conversatory. I smiled and headed inside my little house though the glass conservatory door putting my basket down emptying out my herbs and honey into my apothecary as the raven flew off into the house and perched on the sofa on his usual pillow

"Hello my little princess" he smirked 

"Will you just. One damn minute" I told him

"What? What have I done?" He whines getting up and coming over fixing his clothes a little but I did my best not to look at him 

"I'm working" I said 

"Umm working? I think your just being mean to me" he smirked into my ear untying my cloak and pulling it off me "come in you can work anytime, I don't get to visit to much anymore, not half as often as I'd like my sweet little princess" he cooed cuddling me from behind "and I have missed you, so badly" he smirked almost growing in my ear as he pushed himself against my dress

"Thomas. Five minutes alright, you've been gone six months five more minutes isn't going to kill you" I laughed 

"It might"

"Nothing kills you"

"Why? Are you trying to get rid of me?" 

"No."

"Good." He says kissing my shoulder "I'm sorry I was gone so long."

"Umm" I said ignoring him

"Aww? Is that why your so grumpy with me?" He laughs before turning me around to face him as he stood in my conservatory his golden hair reflecting the sunsets light, his red textured button down shirt undone half way down his chest, his tight black almost leather pants against him, black braces or suspenders on his shoulders to keep them up even if I don't think he needed them, stubble gracing his chin and the corners of his upper lip but nowhere near as bad as I had seen before when he's been away for longer his hands around me softly his foot between my own "I told you it was work, you know I wouldn't leave my little princess unless I had to" he cooes caressing my cheek "it's a busy job you know, I keep telling you I'll... Take you with me if you want?"

"No thank you" I said turning back to my work "I wish you wouldn't wait there"

"Where? On the gate?"

"Umm. Why not in the garden?"

"You might not see me, besides I like them knowing I'm here"

"You might I don't. It makes them nervous and when people get nervous they get scared and when people get scared they do stupid things." I explained

"Well... Maybe they need a little fear in them"

"I don't want to be feared, Thomas..."

"Don't you?" He laughs sitting in my work bench so I had no choice but to see him "you get off on it"

"What?"

"Oh come on" he laughs "riding boots with the six inch heels? The long purple dress? The black corset? Blood red lipstick? Long black hooded cloak? And you're telling me you don't want to be feared? You love it"

"It's fun sometimes" I admit

"I know it is princess, maybe you and me should go walking in the town sometime really frighten them" he smirked 

"No Thomas. We're in enough trouble as it is" I told him 

"mariée au mal" he smirked to himself 

"Shut up" I sighed 

"It's a good name for you"

"I said shut up Thomas"

"Bride of evil"

"Married to evil"

"Depends on your translation." He shrugs 

"Why did I marry you?" I asked leaning on my desk to slightly glare at him 

"I don't know, you asked me remember" he smirked, kissing my cheek and jumping off the desk going into the cottage "you coming to bed? Or do I have to drag my pretty bride down to hell with me to fuck her?" He smirked,

I smiled as I laid in my bed listening to the wind in the tree's, the sounds of animals in the woods, the babble of the river under the bridge, the quiet of this peaceful little town. I could hear Thomas Gently breathing, his arm around my waist spooning me as he often did wanting to keep me safe in his arms so if I even moved much less left his arms he would know and it would wake him. I couldn't help my mind flooding with the memories of the first night I ever spend on his arms.

I was young, but old enough to know better. I would go and play by the tall willow tree in the forest. I would go and spend hours and hours reading books and gathering flowers. Often times I would speak to the tree and many times it would speak back to me. I had always been a woman on the darker side of the world. I liked the grim and the spooky, I had a fondness for the darkness and what often times lurked within it. I had always been wary of straying too far, never leaving a door open, never offering things without consistency, never going too far if you won't commit to it. Rules I followed like laws, until one night. It was a blood moon, it hung over the willow and that night I decided I wanted to see just how far I could go.

I made an altar at the willows roots, with candles, herbs, a salt circle, flowers, and tools. I called out things but nothing answered. Each time I called out going deeper and deeper until someone answered me. 

"Hello, aren't you beautiful" he smirked as he saw me "not often I get such a beautiful woman calling out to me" 

"I uhh i-" stuttered in shock 

"Shh, it's alright. I guess you don't get answers very often. No need to worry, sweet girl. I won't hurt you" 

"I seek what is to be" I said

"Do you?" He smirked "clever girl as well as beautiful. Are you sure that's what you want?" He asks 

"Yes"

"Then a smart girl like you understands the price it takes" 

I nodded and took the cage from my basket of the small bird I had found he laughed at me 

"You have been misinformed" he says taking the cage and letting the bird loose 

"Then what is the price?"

"The price is different for everyone."

"Then for me?"

"For you?" He smirked "I can give you what you seek. But for you beautiful lady, the price is simple. Your utter love and devotion, swear your life and love for me, be mine and you shall have all that you seek" 

"How do I do this?"

"... Be with me. And swear your devotion to me" he smirked taking my hands 

"Yes master" I nodded

"Whoa... Just Thomas little princess, I'm not your master, and I won't be. You'll be my bride, still happy?" He asked and I nodded "good. Now... We're all done with the formalities, shall we? my pretty little princess? My sweet little wifey?" 

I nodded and he smirked looking at me, licking his tongue slightly across his bottom lip. He moved forward holding my Waist before leaning in and kissing me softly, he was warm, and soft, he tasted and smelt like ash, mahogany, petricorn and mint. He was gentle with me as he kissed me his thumb stroking my waist as we kissed in the moonlight, surrounded by the tree and it's leaves, the gentle breeze as the kisses got faster, deeper until he pushed me to gently laying me down on the grass in the circle of salt with him laid over me…

I woke up peacefully to the sweet symphony of bird song in the tree's. The gentle breeze whistling through the branches and leaves. The hushed sounds of the world before people rise. I was warm between the layers of my dress, one protecting me from the ground the other protecting my body, his arm around my waist his head nuzzled in my shoulder and arm fast asleep barely making a sound but his breaths. I looked seeing his sweet mop of hair nuzzled so close to me, looking up seeing the sunlight cascading through the tree as it rose, the sunlight peeking in through the leaves and branches. 

"Uumm good morning" he yawns 

"Hi" I blushed 

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing"

"No, come on tell me"

"So… that's that"

"Aww what? Was I disappointing little princess?" He whines 

"No, no. It's just that's it you know"

"Well, We’re married now”

“What?”

“We’re married. And mated.”

“So… I’m a real witch now” “You were a real witch before. But Now my bride”

“So? What are we going to uhh… going to do?”

“Well, I have to get to work soon. I’ll be down there for a couple of days but I’ll come back and snuggle up with my little wifey, I might not be home some nights. But it’s work. I'll always come back to my little princess, Like any husband and wife when a husband works away” He explained “So? Shall we head home?” 

I stood in my conservatory, the sunlight flickering through the glass, Through the leaves of the forest, the stems and petals of the flowers that grew in here or in the garden, The flicker of rain bows where light flickered through the glass or though sculpted bottles of potions and viles, as well as though light catchers. 

“Hey” Thomas smiled Leaning on my door to stare at me

“What?” I laughed 

“Nothing, I just like looking at you” He shrugs

“Go Look at your pit of sluts” 

“It’s not a pit. It’s a…. Box” 

“Go look at that then”

“Why would I go look at them? When I have my wife?”

“Go hang out with one of your other wives then” 

“What over wives?” he laughs 

“I can’t be the only witch who summoned you and… let you, you know” 

“Of course not. You’re my only wife princess.” He says 

“What about all those other-”

“Shhh, You’re my only wife princess, and if I get summoned by any other little witches in the forest I send the demons. I only come when my wife summons me” He smirked giving my cheek a kiss cuddling me tightly and stroking my stomach “Besides. I’m going to be staying from now on, as much as I can now you have the baby coming” He cooed, kissing my neck and down my shoulder as he stroked my stomach “My beautiful princess, My Beautiful bride. I get to spend all day with you now, My pretty wifey and our baby” 

“Sure thomas” I laughed “Maybe soon I’ll get to go down there?”

“You will, when the baby is born. My sweet little princess,” He cooed kissing my cheek