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thexsilentxwordsmith · 2 months

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Simon "Ghost" Riley x Housewife!reader

From the request HERE

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: Such a good little wife you are to your military husband, ready to welcome him back home after he returns from deployment. This time you've even prepared a meal of all his favorites, but when Simon gets back early than expected and catches you flitting about the kitchen in nothing but his t-shirt, it isn't food that he wants.

Word Count: 6.4 k

Warnings:

Simon has gotten in earlier than either of you expected, but instead of letting you know he doesn’t call, doesn’t text. There are other thoughts on his mind that cloud his judgment and the last thing he thinks about is wasting time focusing on messing with his phone when showing up back home is infinitely better. He’s excited to be back, chomping at the bit to get back his girl as he’s been missing you something terrible. Now that he’s back on home turf, that longing to see you again is only getting worse by the second.

You had told him your plan for today: you wanted to make his homecoming right by cooking him a nice meal for the two of you as a celebration since he’s been gone for quite a while this round. The gesture is sweet and Simon is getting hungry… the only problem is that it isn’t for food.

He reiterates to himself on the drive back about the promise that he made to you that he would be on his best behavior today. All this trouble you are going to, he wants to be sure to show his appreciation by enjoying the hard work you’ve put in to prepare a dinner of all his favorite things and he plans to keep it by not letting his yearnings get out of hand…at least that is what he hopes.

By the time he pulls up to the house he is over two hours early from when he was meant to land and his pulse is racing as he parks on the driveway. Just a short distance more and he’s back in the company he’s been craving like crazy.

His key clicks in the lock and as he opens the door to his house he is hit by the sights and sounds of familiarity that instantly put him at ease. There are reminders of you everywhere, little touches that make this a place of comfort he looks forward to coming back to after being away. It is the sound of music echoing from the kitchen that urges him to continue forward after he shuts the door quietly, hoping to catch you by surprise. He sets his gear down by the door and creeps silently through the house, the metallic clangs of pots and utensils underneath the music now becoming more prominent as he reaches the source.

And there you are.

The pupils of those caramel brown eyes dilate as you come into view; it has been too long since the object of his desire was standing right in front of him and fuck, do you look good. He watches you transfixed on the grace of your movements, unwavering gaze following the motions of your body as you go about the kitchen popping from the stove to the countertop singing along with the song playing over the bluetooth speakers.

This is it, this is his little piece of heaven on earth, his oasis safe from the chaos that is his daily life, his sunshine that pierces through the darkness that clouds his thoughts, and she’s wearing his t-shirt. And only his t-shirt with your panties.

How the hell can you make something so simple look like perfection? He could very well be biased because he only has ever had eyes for you, but fuck your beauty could pull off anything.

This right here is what keeps him going, knowing that this is what he will come home to.

He pulls his phone from out of his pocket and promptly snaps a picture, wanting to capture this innocent moment of carefree beauty that you exude now that you are alone in your own little world: humming happily to yourself, flitting about the kitchen, his baggy shirt randomly clinging to different curves as you move, your hair tied back into a low ponytail.

In that moment, looking like you do, he wants you so bad it hurts. Your figure is only a few feet away from his grasp and yet his body is aching in pain still being this far. He has to be wrapped around you and it has to be right now. Moving with haste he pulls off his mask and gloves and discards them on the ground, removing any sign of Ghost so that he cannot taint his sweet thing with the unsavory dealings of his alter ego. He can’t wait, those lips and hands have to be on you the second they can.

Just as you go to stir the pot of vegetables bubbling away on the stove, the music cuts out abruptly and a familiar pair of arms snake their way around your waist from behind, lacing themselves across the middle of your stomach. You jump, not expecting anyone to be against you, but as soon as your eyes catch that forearm full of familiar tattoos you settle. He’s home, that’s all that matters and those nerves that have been brewing inside your chest all day turn into delicious flutters as those large hands begin to roam across your body.

The old familiar curves call to him, beckoning him to travel their paths once again. Who is he to deny them? He does not even wait as his hands paw over your stomach and hips, those large, exploratory hands taking the curves of your body into their embrace over the t-shirt until his grip is so full he can’t contain any more.

“You’re early,” you say through a smile as you settle back into him, head resting against his shoulder.

The warmth from his breath is at the edge of your ear as he moves his face in closer while his hands wander with purpose. His lips are ghosting themselves near the delicate skin of your earlobe teasingly until he has you squirming in his arms. "Woulda called, just wanted to get home as fast as I fuckin’ could," he groans as he tightens his grip around you to cause your back to form into the contours of his taut chest. “Had a craving for somethin’ sweet.”

Pulling up the t-shirt just enough he moves under it with those large hands, splaying them across your soft flesh around your waist, your hips, your stomach as he takes your earlobe in his teeth to nibble at it playfully until it sends shivers down your spine.

“I missed ya, baby,” he says desperately against the side of your head.

"I missed you too," you return.

The longer he plays up under the shirt, the more your sanity wanes. His touch is ecstasy and after not having it for so long, it is hard to not immediately succumb to its bliss. He’s barely even begun and you are already falling apart; if this keeps up you’ll never finish what you have started on the stove.

"I wish you would have called,” you say, trying to break the spell, “cause I wanted everything to be done before you got home. I’m not ready, I’m not even dressed. I wanted this to be perfect."

His lips move from your earlobe and start just below your jaw, making the connection against your skin over and again along the line of your jugular as he descends down your neck with kisses. He pauses against the vein there as his lips pick up the thudding as it pulses under his touch. The more his mouth lingers, the quicker it gets.

With a smile he nuzzles his nose into your skin as his nostrils fill with your scent; the fragrance fills his head and it feels like he is being consumed. “Don’t need to get dressed,” his words breeze over your neck and down your chest, “ya look perfect just like this. How could I ask for anythin’ more?”

Simon takes the spoon out of your hand and rests it on the counter so that he can turn you around to face him; that stoic military officer is yearning to look into the face of the beauty he hasn't seen in far too fucking long. Meeting your gaze for the first time in months is akin to a contact high and immediately he is out of his goddamn mind as your eyes lock to his.

You are struggling just as badly. It is always a struggle not to miss him like crazy when he’s gone and now that he is back there is so much time to make up for. And the way he looks as he stands here in front of you, hands around your hips, isn’t helping. The universe knew what they were doing when they put Simon together and even though the black around his eyes is already smugged and his crinkled blonde hair is pressed down from being under his balaclava, the sight of him still makes your stomach flip. You are transfixed and it’s getting harder to breathe.

Brown eyes trail down your features to take you all in, drinking up every gorgeous facet of your face as his hands move to cup around the sides of your head like the frame around a work of art. Those eyes that light up whenever they look at him, that sweet mouth always ready with a smile, those soft cheeks glowing whenever he touches you, all of it a unique perfection that he cannot get enough of. Finally his sight lands on your mouth and as if drawn by an overwhelming urge he is compelled to move in.

He has to kiss you; it is suddenly unbearable that he still hasn’t tasted you yet.

Leaning into your face he gives your lips a peck to test that they still feel the same as he remembers. Pulling back, he catches the sparkle in your eyes that tells him to do that again and he is ready to oblige. Then he steals another and another at an increasing pace until his mouth smashes against yours and latches on, drawing you in as he deepens the connection.

His tongue meets yours and shoves its way past the barrier of your lips and into the confines of your mouth as he tastes you. Everything comes flooding back all at once and he is overtaken by all that familiarity. The longer the connection lasts the more he loses himself until he is panting into you, sharing one sticky, hot bit of air as his features shape themselves around your own to make your faces become one.

The thick stubble outlining his jaw abrades the skin of your cheeks and around your lips, making your face sting, but you don't want him to pull away. Not yet, not when his lips are making your mind hazy and your limbs tremble as all that tension that has been building for days as you wait for his return bubbles over the surface.

His desperation is showing as his dick digs itself into your upper thigh, pulsing and throbbing the harder it gets until you cannot ignore it. Each heavy breath pushes his bulky chest against yours until you can feel his rapid pulse rushing angrily through his veins as his heartbeat pounds.

"You’re gonna be the death ‘a me," he says quietly under his breath as he cannot think of anything else to say in that moment; his mind is too absorbed in the way your kiss is like heaven and he is succumbing to the feeling of it. “I know I said I’d wait til later, but I don’t think I can, sweetheart. It’s been hell without ya.”

At this rate Simon isn’t going to make it to dinner and you’re so close to being done, but maybe there is something you can do to sate him long enough that you can get through this. With a bit of struggle you break the kiss and pull away as he desperately tries to wrangle you back in so that you have to place your hand on his chest to get him to pause.

Giving Simon’s lower lip one last quick nip you slowly lower yourself to your knees before him, your fingers lacing into the leather of his belt as you fiddle with the buckle. “Then how about I give you a little something to keep you satisfied til dinner’s over?” you suggest as you look up at him with those pretty doe-eyes. “Something to make you feel better?”

His chest heaves up and down with each laborious breath he takes as you jump into unhooking the metal of his buckle and pulling the leather through until the belt hangs loosely around his hips. Your fingers slide down the zipper, but before you can do more his hands press yours into place along the lower portion of his pelvis so that you can’t keep undressing him.

“Ya don’t have to do this,” he mildly protests. Simon knows if you don’t stop he isn’t going to be able to either and this dinner is going to take a detour, though he can’t lie that he wants you to keep going.

Giving you a look, he waits to see if you stand back up, but you only smile as you pull your hands back out from underneath his. “I want to do this for you, baby,” you reassure, lifting the bottom of his shirt and leaning in to kiss along the light colored patch of hair that trails down into his boxers as you finish undoing his pants.

How in the hell is someone supposed to resist this? Simon is strong, he would not have gotten far in life if he wasn’t, but not this strong. You reach the waistband of his underwear with your lips and meet the seam with your fingers to pull them down under his ass low enough that you can release his thick, fat cock.

He is hard already, the tip swollen and angry, and the veins running through it visibly throbbing. The inside of your mouth salivates as it remembers the feeling of being stuffed with that girthy appendage. You keep the spit gathered on your tongue as you lean in and open your lips.

Taking the tip of your tongue you trace the head of his cock as your hand at the base keeps his foreskin pulled back. A breathy moan rumbles out from somewhere deep inside his chest, low and guttural as his hips buck and his ass hits into the ledge of the kitchen counter, making his belt jingle from the movement.

“Fuck,” he chokes out as his head falls back and his eyelids momentarily close. “Forgot how that pretty mouth feels ‘round me.”

He can feel a tightening around him as your lips contort into a smile, excited that you can still make that big ol boy come undone with something as simple as your mouth. Clearly he has been just as worked up as you have been for him to get home. As Simon settles back against the countertop with his palm on your cheek, his thumb lovingly strokes the corner of your full mouth as you continue on.

Your lips around him, wet and messy, suck him in until his cock reaches the threshold of your throat. Those pretty eyes of yours lift back up to look into his face, keeping contact as you choke around him, vision swimming with tears while your head bobs up and down in a steady rhythm. Your lips are bright red and swollen from his kiss, your cheeks blossoming with heated color, that lust-drunk look plastered on your face; it all makes up the gorgeous picture. The visual makes his blood pressure rise until his limbs are vibrating with the racing beats of his heart.

The slurping sounds of your saliva-filled mouth being fucked is punctuated by sparse gags; it hasn’t been this full for a while and it’s going to take some getting used to. Still, you don’t slow your pace, even as his hips begin thrusting against your face the longer you go. It’s like you’d rather suck him off than breathe and goddamn is that a turn-on.

Simon releases your cheek so that he can rest his hands on the counter behind him. He hasn’t had you like this in so long that it doesn’t take much to overwhelm him now. That pressure deep inside is building to its peak, drawing his body to the edge of its release with each pass of your mouth over him from as far down the base as you can reach back to the tip. His hands grip hard into the surface behind him until his knuckles turn white.

Shit, he is going to come just like he knows you want, but it is at that moment that he realizes that he doesn’t want to just take this quick blow job and be done with you until later. Simon needs you, all of you, under his touch and at his disposal right this fucking second. Suddenly he is pulling out of your mouth and situating his cock back into the confines of his pants as you stare up at him with your head tilted in confusion.

“What’s…” you start to ask, but before the words can even leave your lips you are being pulled to your feet. He doesn’t say a word as he wipes away a bit of spittle that has dripped from the corner of your mouth, using his thumb to remove it before he kisses you full force again.

It's too much, too strong an all consuming feeling to stop and so without warning he pulls from you and throws you over his broad shoulder to carry you out of the room in a rush. He is frantic; he needs to have you now and can’t wait to drag you all the way to the bedroom. No, it’s too far.

Scanning around him as his aroused brain tries to find the fastest solution, he spots it. The dining table that you’ve set special for tonight is just a few feet away and he instantly brings you over to it. Dishes clank and clatter, ceramic and glass hitting itself as he hurriedly shoves everything out of his way to make room for your body before setting you on the surface.

"I know you’re not done cookin’, but I’m hungry for somethin' else," he breathes as he sets you down and lays you back. “I need ya now…waited too long for this.”

The movement has caused your shirt to get pulled up off your stomach and the uncovered area catches his eye; more skin that he desperately needs to claim and now. He brushes his fingertips down across your waist and over your navel, past to your lower abdomen until he lightly grazes the seam of your panties. He can feel the goosebumps forming under his touch and he can hear the hitch in your breathing the lower he gets.

Reaching your sex he cups his wide palm over the mound and applies pressure. It is warm to the touch and he can feel it radiate into his hand. You buck against him, squirming at the unexpected sensitivity with a gasp. All that softness of your body, so delicate to the touch like silk against his skin, it’s too much for him to handle. Simon has had months and months of only rough, coarse, and rugged things from the brutal environment he was forced to endure, but the moment his fingers grace across all that balmy flesh his brain short-circuits.

It’s not just your looks that drive him wild, though. You are the one bit of happiness he keeps separate from the brutality of his work, the sanctuary that he looks forward to coming home to, the calm in his stormy existence. That's why he suggested he take care of the money so you could stay at home, not bother yourself with working, so that the harsh world wouldn't taint your sweet demeanor with its cruelty. And in return you take care of his life, never asking for anything as you make sure everything here runs smoothly.

"You're always takin’ care a me, makin' sure that everything is perfect when I get back home," he says as he gets more worked up. "Now it's my turn to return the favor. Goddammit, I just wanna screw the hell outta my pretty girl until she can’t move."

Firm hands cup against your hips as his fingertips slip between your panties and your warm skin, tangling them in the fabric so that he can pull them down your thighs and off your legs. Your bare petals faintly glisten as he gets a peak at them through the tight space between your legs, a product of his minimal touch already working on your body; nice to know he still has that effect on you no matter how much time you’ve spent apart. He slides his hands between your thighs, parting them easily as a knife in warm butter, until his hand is deep enough that he can stop and separate them so that the gap is wide and his body can easily fit in between.

"All this for me?” he asks as he stares like an animal starved at your pussy, mouth salivating to play. "Bet you’ve been achin’ somethin’ terrible since I left. Do ya need me ta fix that?”

“Yes,” you breathe.Your body is radiating with the intensity of every sensation that courses through your limbs like an electrical current everywhere Simon touches you.

“That’s a good girl,” he says as he glides his hand up so his fingers can part through the lips of your pussy.

Two of those thick fingers slide between the petals of your sex towards your entrance, gathering as much of your slick as he can on his digits. Carefully he teases them around the rim of your core, circling it through the dampness gathering in your slit. “One or two?” he asks as your back arches off the table, the stimulation driving you to the brink of insanity; it’s been too long since you’ve felt his fingers there.

You swallow hard. “T-two,” you beg. At this point, any amount will work as long as they are his and as long as they get inside you.

“Oh sweetheart, that’s what I like ta hear,” he praises as he aligns his fingers with your opening and slowly fits those two long fingers inside and up into you. “Fuck, there ya go. Just breathe for me, that’s it. Let your body do all the work and take ‘em in.”

They slip up further into your cunt and with a slow pace he begins to pump in and out of you while the overwhelming pressure causes you to arch your back up off the table. Instinctively, your hips buck against his hand, trying to make as much contact with him as possible.

Those long, coarse fingers curl inside you continuously as his heavy palm rests over top of your sex to put pressure so that he can make more contact and cause more friction with your G spot as his thumb nestles against your clit. Your body writhes against the table, your head falling back with eyes closed as the twinges of pleasure spring up your spine and Simon is grinning from ear to ear to see he still knows how to work his sweetheart just the way she likes.

As he watches you fall apart to the stroking of his fingers, from the corner of sight he catches it: that bounce at the top of your torso under the shirt. It’s as if he suddenly remembers about those beautiful breasts as they rebound with his strokes and out of a drunken haze he is consumed by the need to see them.

Pushing the bottom of your shirt up over your chest, it’s revealed that you don’t have on a bra and his breath hitches to see those perky tits he’s been dreaming of burying his face in staring right back at him. Fuck, he can’t stop himself from getting at all that juicy meat and quickly he leans over you with a groan from the table so that he can reach you with his mouth. Lightly he grazes his teeth over the delicate skin of your nipple to make the little bud grow hard under the sharp contact.

"Oh God, Simon," his name falls from your lips in a breathy prayer.

The sweet sound of his name being spoken in such a desperate way only spurns him on; he needs to hear it as many times as he can make you repeat it, especially after not being able to hear it at all while he was gone. "Say it again," he demands, never lifting his face from your breasts, just switching sides periodically to get them both engaged.

His tongue flicks at the hardened nipple and it makes you whimper as the stimulation runs down your body like liquid fire until you can feel its effects radiating in your clit each time his thumb strokes over it. You know that he wants you to say his name again, but you don’t know if you can. It’s too much stimulation that you are losing your ability to speak.

"Simon," you say as your voice shakes.

His hum of satisfaction vibrates through the tissue of your breast. "Again," he repeats firmly before drawing it fully into his mouth. Latching on he takes as much of your breast as he can fit and sucks down hard.

“S-simon,” your desperate voice clumsily moans.

Tiny beads of sweat form along the line of your body as it burns with the intensity of the ecstasy you feel under his expert care. He’s in your head, in the very marrow of your bones; there isn’t a part of you that isn’t consumed by him. Those rough fingers grinding away into your pussy and his mouth on your body all pail in comparison to the way his kiss had felt on your lips. That desperate, consuming, overwhelming kiss is your drug and you need another hit.

Your fingers lace into his short hair and you tug hard to pull him from your chest, only then does he unlatch himself from your breast as you guide him back up to your mouth. Simon’s lips are nearly raw and yet he takes yours as roughly as he had in the kitchen, never slowing the pace of his finger fucking.

It’s like liquid fire, your kiss, and he sucks down with a hunger that cannot be quenched. The sound of your sloppy lips match the wet slaps currently being produced between your legs. Simon is drunk as his mouth takes and takes and takes, and yet…

His mouth craves more, another set of lips.

The pad of his tongue makes contact with your clit and you jolt, making the table creak as the over-stimulation sends shock waves through your needy body. You can feel the sigh he releases against you as he begins to suck on the nodule of pleasure while flicking it with his tongue; it’s hard to think amongst the staggering overstimulation is leaving you begging and pleading for mercy.

Simon pulls from you amidst your whined protests to drop to his knees before you, giving those thick thighs his attention. His face comes level with your pussy that is absolutely soaked from the work of his fingers and raising your legs to rest your ankles on his shoulders, he dives in. Instantly his face is buried in your heat and as he brushes his tongue through your slit his mouth is filled with your nectar, that tangy burst of flavor that he can not get enough of. It is slathering all over the lower half of his face, coating him from his nose to his chin in the scent of your arousal.

Your thighs squeeze around his head and then release. “I can’t…I-I can’t…” you murmur as you try to move from him.

His mouth releases from you. “Yes, yes ya can, baby. Now, come on my face,” he says fiercely as he grips into the muscle of your hips with all his strength, secures you to his sharp features, and dives right back in like a man starved.

“F-f-fuck,” you groan as your hands seize the tablecloth in your fists, that coil of pleasure tightening in your stomach tighter with each flick of his tongue.

Feverish movements against that erogenous button are no longer controlled as he devours all he can, forcing your body towards that ledge to throw you off into ecstasy. He craves it, burns for it, and would die for it: the way you feel, the way you taste, the way your hips writhe against his advances, it all makes him rabid.

As your breath grows shorter and shorter, he knows it's not far; just a bit more suffocation on his part and you will be done in. He moves his face down to tease your hole with his tongue as his nose takes over on your clit. You are so hot it feels like someone has set you on fire as the knot in your stomach gathers to its breaking point. It’s there, right there within reach; just a little more and you are going to come hard and he’ll get his wish.

Those desperate whimpers quiet all of a sudden and he knows it’s happening; with a few more flicks of his tongue you plunge off the edge with a cry as your thighs clamp down tight around his ears so that he is blocked against you, but that is exactly what he wants. Those seconds after your orgasm shakes through you are his favorite: you writhing uncontrollably over him as he continues to stroke his tongue through you until that high has finally worn off.

Nothing has ever felt better and after not having this for months, it is pure heaven.

It isn’t until you settle down and your legs open back up that he emerges with his face covered in the sticky juices of your cum and his saliva. He is grinning like he has just been given a present, even as he wipes his mouth clean with the back of his hand before wiping the slick on his t-shirt.

“Fuckin’ fantastic as always, baby,” he breathes. “But I ain’t done with ya yet. I think we can get at least one more orgasm from ya right now. Come ‘ere.”

He helps your weak body to sit up on the edge of the table to embrace your lips, hoping to reinvigorate you to keep going with the intensity of his desire. You can taste yourself in his kiss, a mixture of sweet and salty that combines with his natural tang to become the flavor of your union. The kiss only lasts a few more seconds, but after just being made to come the exhaustion makes it feel like a lifetime… not that you are complaining.

Pulling from you, he tugs at the crotch of his pants; he can’t wait anymore. “I need ya ta get up and turn ‘round, sweet thing,” he says, guiding you up and rotating you around before pushing you back down onto the table, this time on your stomach. “Gotta get inside. Need ta fill ya.”

The sound of metal jingles as he lowers his pants as his knee pushes against your inner thigh to spread you wider. He releases his cock again and squats down lower so that he can align the tip with your entrance. You can feel it press through the swollen lips of your pussy and you ready yourself for that moment when you’ll be split open.

He can already feel your dampness on his cock as he guides it through and without hesitation he grabs your hips and thrusts inside all the way down to the very base of his cock. Simon instantly bottoms out and needs a second to collect himself; it’s been too fucking long since he’s been inside you and if he isn’t careful he is going to come to quick for him.

Those rough fingers dig in deeper to your hips as he tries to hold on for dear life. “Goddammit, baby,” he groans. “I’ve missed this.”

His girth stretches your core wide to its limit so that the walls of your cunt can’t help but feel every single detail of his cock: every enlarged vein, the exact curve of it, each and every crease.

It’s like he’s imprinting it with his signature, letting your pussy know that the one it belongs to is home once again.

Hips begin to rock slowly at first and are immediately punctuated by deep-throated groans as he cannot keep himself calm for long no matter how hard he tries. Your body is too much like paradise, so devastatingly amazing that even though he is desperately clawing at his sanity it is slipping through his fingers faster and faster with each thrust like sand in a sieve. Pulling almost completely out of you he slams back into your core down to the base, repeating this over and over with a ferocity that only gets worse.

Your body rocks, breasts bouncing and bunching the tablecloth as you are pressed into the surface; you can only moan as the uncomfortable fullness becomes euphorically intoxicating. The table squeaks and strains against each plunge of him deeper into your pussy, threatening to break under the force at any second. Plates and silverware clatter to the floor as they are knocked off and yet you do not care. He will just replace them anyway so there is no sense to take yourself out of the moment to worry about it.

"Ya look so fuckin' pretty with my cock buried in ya," he grunts. "My sweet girl, my good little wife, always keepin' my balls empty. How'd I get so goddamn lucky to marry someone so good, yeah?"

Desperately he grinds harder and harder into you as if he cannot get deep enough, like he cannot fill you full enough. The recoil of your ass as he pounds into you from behind is something he can’t pull his sight from even if he wants to. He is mesmerized, watching himself disappear into the confines of your body only to reemerge more coated in your juices than when he went in.

“I want ta feel ya pulse around me each letter of my name,” he says as his hand runs down the length of your spine. “Come on, baby, let me fuckin’ feel it.”

You follow his command and flex the muscles in your pelvis. Ten letters isn’t that much, not for him; you do it all for him, anything he asks, anything he needs because you know that he is just as whipped for you as you are for him and this is the way to keep him coming back like a good little pup.

He’s panting like a bitch in heat behind you. “That’s it, fuck, just as that.”

So wet, so tight, the pulsing, the throbbing, the speckles of sweat covering your bodies, his hands grabbing at skin, your hips grinding into him… it’s all too much. “Keep going,” you beg with a shudder. “Fuck, Simon right there.”

You can feel him hitting that sensitive spot inside, his cock pounding over it at the perfect angle, and your limbs tingle as the second coming is fast approaching. There is only one man who can make you come multiple times and it is and always has been your husband. And now his complete possession of your body is almost finished.

“Come on, my pretty girl, gimme another,” he urges enthusiastically as he hears your whimpers get louder while your body trembles. “I know ya have another for me and I fuckin’ want it.”

He pounds into you as if his life is dependent on your orgasm and you steady yourself by gripping onto the edge of the tabletop. The pressure builds and builds, a scourge to your sanity until all at once that bolt of hot electricity shoots through your limbs and your head falls forward with a whine as your second orgasm rockets through you so hard that you are left a mewling mess.

“Yes, yes, that’s it,” Simon growls as he finally allows himself to let go and all that build up, all that pining, all that longing for this moment comes to a head and with a few more hard, deep strokes inside your spasming pussy he too comes undone.

A roar rips through his chest as he pulls out and comes across your back, stroking his hand over his cock until he can milk himself dry. You close your eyes, laying your head down as he finishes and grabs a napkin that sits on the table above your head to wipe the cum off. His limbs feel heavy as he sits you back upright to face him.

Simon simply stares into your face for a while, letting you both just work to catch your breaths. There are no words that need be said, not between you both. Once he is more calm, he gently pushes a strand of hair off your glistening face and tucks it behind your ear.

“Ya did so well for me, sweetheart,” he says sweetly, placing a softer kiss on your lips as his heart slows.

“Always for you,” you return with a smile against his lips.

As you both stand there in the midst of the afterglow of your euphoria, a smell begins to waft in from the kitchen. It is unmistakably the scent of something burning. You poke your head around him just to be sure there isn’t a fire on the stove before turning back to his face.

“I hope you like your food burnt cause that’s what we’re gonna be having now,” you laugh as he pulls you back in for one more kiss, letting his forehead rest against yours.

“Guess its a good fuckin’ thing I filled up on the first course then,” he says as you tut in fake exasperation. He lowers his voice. “But ya know… if the food’s ruined, maybe we should just go ta bed.”

Something about the way he says it and the glint in his eye as you pull back, it doesn’t sound like you are going to be sleeping anything off.

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wriothesleybear · 2 months

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Gallagher with a cute little housewife!reader

~warnings: fluff, some spiciness, fem!reader, MDNI!

Gallagher would love to have a cute little housewife to come home to. Someone who cares for him, makes him dinner, and loves him. He loves when you wear your cute little apron that suits your figure nicely. (He wonders what it would look like if you wore nothing except for the apron.)

He usually can't help himself and takes you from behind on the counter while you're finishing up the cooking. He tries to be quick because he wouldn't want your delicious dinner to get cold. After dinner, he returns the favor and gives his thanks by doing the dishes.

He loves when you greet him at the door when he walks in, asking him how his day was as you kiss him on the cheek, telling him how much you missed him. He could just take you right there in the front entryway entrance. He can't help it. You're just so cute and such a loving, dotting wife. On the daily, he thinks about how lucky he is to have you as his wife.

He has you taste test the drinks he makes at home when he's coming up with new ideas. He loves how your eyes brighten as you watch him make drinks. The excitement and admiration is written on your face. Praises about how talented he is leave your beautiful lips. He gets a little bashful if you praise him too much. His cheeks slightly red as he looks away from your gaze, rubbing the back of his neck. He's also a little bashful because your praise involuntarily makes blood rush to his cock. He never got much praise in his life so he didn't know that he would love it so much when you did it. He finally loses control when you call him 'my husband'. The drinks are soon forgotten as he carries you to your shared bedroom where he can show his undying love for you as your husband.

He's not a morning person so he struggles with getting up for work, but having you gently waking him up with kisses smothering his face helps a little (but not much because now he'd rather stay in bed where he can hold you and share slow, passionate kisses). If you really want to get him out of bed, promise him shower sex. He'll immediately get up, picking you up bridal style and carry you over to the shower. (In no way is it a quick shower.) While he gets dressed, you make him some breakfast and pack a little lunch for him.

You see him off at the front entrance, kissing him goodbye. Instead of a quick kiss goodbye, he cups your cheek and wraps a strong arm around your waist, pulling you close as he deepens the kiss. It's such a passionate, love filled kiss that you're left breathless once he pulls away. It's romantic but it leaves you with wanting more and debating whether to ask him to stay a little longer instead of going into work. You hold your tongue though, not wanting him to get in trouble because you know he'll say yes if you ask. He can't say no to you.

He can see the desire in your eyes even if you don't say anything. He feels the same way, but he disciplines himself and ends up going to work. He doesn't leave without promising to show you how much he missed you once he comes home. It's something to hold you both over for now.

He sometimes runs into you while he's out and about working. Seeing you helps his mood when he's getting annoyed from the newbie hounds. When he sees you, he takes his attention away from the young hound dogs he's training and puts it all on you. If he had a tail, it'd be wagging for you. He does get annoyed if his conversation with you gets interrupted by either a guest breaking rules or the young hounds messing around.

This man would be a simp for his wife. Enough said.

#hsr gallagher #gallagher x reader #gallagher headcanons #gallagher smut #hsr x reader #hsr headcanons #hsr smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail headcanons #honkai star rail smut #gallagher

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rosyblooom · 10 days

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a in anniversary is for apple pie! | cl16 smau

PAIRING: charles leclerc x wife!reader SUMMARY: charles and y/n return from their wedding anniversary dinner to find their daughter still awake and adamant about wanting the apple pie she was promised tonight! A/N: tysm for 500 followers🥹 pls accept this entirely sweet & happy fic as a token of my appreciation🫶

creds to @classiclitfreak for proofreading <3

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

charles_leclerc

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charles_leclerc Happy wedding anniversary to my beautiful wife, Y/N. You hold my heart in the palm of your hands, but I couldn't imagine it safer anywhere else. I'm excited for more, mon cœur 🙏❤️

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charles_leclerc posted to his story!

[ caption: Wow. ]

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[ caption: mon amour ❤️ ]

[ tagged: charles_leclerc ]

Fumbling, you struggle to insert the key into the lock, a task made unexpectedly difficult by your husband's impatience. His gentle kisses land on the nape of your neck, his soft whispers proving to be an unwelcome distraction. "Stop it! Can't you wait until we're inside?" you scold, attempting to maintain focus. But his arms remain securely wrapped around your waist, his affectionate gestures relentless. "Remember, we have to face the babysitter the moment we open the door."

"Mhm," Charles hums against your skin, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine and a suppressed smile to your lips. You curse silently at the six-inch heels you foolishly chose, your knees growing weaker with each passing second, the shoes only exacerbating the situation.

With a soft click, the door swings open, a rush of relief flooding through you as you silently thank your lucky stars. But before you can fully absorb the scene, the familiar sound of footsteps, accompanied by a beloved voice, reaches your ears.

"Maman!" Your daughter's enthusiastic embrace threatens to topple you as her tiny arms envelop your thighs. The warmth of Charles beside you momentarily dissipates as he steps back, a look of surprise crossing his features.

Running a hand through his beard, he gently tousles D/N's hair as he asks, "What are you doing up so late, love?"

Annie, your babysitter, interjects with a sheepish grin. "I'm sorry, I tried to get her to bed, but she insisted you guys were making apple pie tonight." She scratches the back of her neck, shrugging apologetically. "I did my best, but this little one is quite determined, as I've come to learn. Right, D/N?" Annie redirects her attention downward, addressing your daughter.

“You promised me apple pie, Maman!” D/N's insistent plea rings out, her small fingers grasping the fabric of your dress. “And I want it now! I want it now! I want it now!”

Kneeling down to her level, you gently place a finger to your lips. “Alright, D/N, I can hear you, but not so loud. Remember, at night-time, we use our inside voice, okay?” Tenderly, you intertwine your hands with hers, tracing comforting circles on the back of her hands.

D/N nods solemnly and whispers, “You promised me you’d make apple pie, and I want it now. Papa,” she turns her pleading gaze to Charles, releasing herself from your grasp and wrapping her arms around him. “I’ve been waiting all day for this, please, Papa.”

Motioning for you to handle the situation with Annie, Charles scoops D/N up, settling her on his hip before disappearing down the hallway and into the kitchen.

You straighten up, offering Annie an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry about that,” you say, reaching into your bag and retrieving an envelope labelled ‘Annie’s pay’. With a gentle gesture, you extend your arm, offering it to her. “This covers today, plus a tip, of course.”

Annie shakes her head, pushing the envelope back towards you. “I can’t accept this. I mean, I failed at getting her to sleep.”

“What?” You try to keep your voice steady, but frustration seeps through. “No, absolutely not.” Determinedly, you grasp her hand, pressing the envelope into her palm before folding it closed. “This is your money; you showed up today and did amazing, as usual. I promised D/N something, so that’s on me, really.”

She tilts her head, her brows furrowing slightly. “Are you sure, Mrs. Leclerc?”

You let out a hum. “How many times do I have to tell you? It’s just Y/N. None of that Mrs. stuff in this house, please,” you chuckle, “you're making me feel old.”

“Right, sorry, Y/N,” Annie quickly corrects herself.

Satisfied, you nod. “We’re getting there… But yes, I am absolutely sure. You deserve every single cent. Seriously,” you emphasise, “you’re a huge help to my family.”

"Alright, thank you, Y/N," Annie retrieves her bag from the hook on the wall and opens the door. "Have a good night."

"You too, Annie. Thanks again."

With a sudden slam, the door startles you for a moment before you release a long breath. You kick off your heels, relieved to be free of the "death traps" as you call them. As your feet meet the cool marble floor, a wave of calm washes over you, releasing the tension from your shoulders. It's exactly what you needed. Feeling much better, you slip off your coat and hang it beside the door before making your way into the kitchen.

A short while later…

"Alright," you lean over the counter, your forearms resting on the cool top, a warmth spreading through your heart as you watch Charles holding D/N in his arms, gently swaying side to side as they dance.

"That's what your mum and I were doing after we finished eating," he whispers.

D/N's high-pitched giggles fill the room, her tiny hand gripping a couple of Charles' fingers. "I want to come next time," she says, turning her head towards you. "Please, please, can I come next time, Maman?"

"Yes," you smile, "of course. Next time, you'll join us for our little anniversary date, okay?"

"Yay!" your daughter raises her hands in excitement, her face beaming.

Recalling the original plan, you clap your hands together. "Alright, D/N, are you still sure you want apple pie tonight? Not tomorrow or the day af—?"

"No, no, no!" she interrupts. "I want apple pie now!"

"Okay, okay… Time to wash your hands then, honey."

D/N squirms in Charles' grip, and when he finally releases her, she races for the sink in the corner of the room, immediately flicking the tap on.

Charles chuckles at the sight before turning his attention to you, stepping closer. You straighten up from the counter just in time as his hands envelop you, trapping you between the counter and his body.

"Looks like our plans will have to wait until later, huh?" you whisper, your voice taking on a sultry tone as your fingers trail up his broad chest, halting on his black tie, starting to unravel it.

Charles leans down, his warm breath slipping into the gap between your parted lips, the sweet tinge of red wine coating your tongue. "Looks like it… But I can wait, mon cœur," his voice resonates breathily as he closes the remaining distance between your faces, his soft lips meeting yours, hungry yet gentle. The kiss is brief, barely lasting long enough for you to savour the moment, though he captures your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging at it slightly before releasing his hold and pulling away.

Remembering your husband’s earlier impatience when you were struggling to open the front door, you fold his tie and set it aside before raising a single brow, asking, “Oh, can you now?”

Charles nods with a sly smile, but before he can respond, D/N beats him to it, diverting your attention as she waltzes towards you.

“Hands are washed!” she exclaims, shaking her hands dry.

"Good job, darling." You slip from Charles’ embrace, grabbing the kitchen roll off the counter and passing it to D/N. "Here."

Once you and Charles have washed your hands, you begin assigning roles. "Baby," you address your husband, pointing, "You’ll chop up the apples, and D/N…" You tilt your head down at your daughter standing in the middle of the kitchen, her smile brimming with excitement. "Do you want to make the shortcrust pastry with me, honey?"

To your surprise, D/N shakes her head and rushes to Charles’ side, her cheek pressed against him. "I want to do what Papa is doing. I don’t want to work with you, Maman."

The admission elicits laughter from you and Charles, his chuckles resonating loudly through the room as D/N pulls open a few drawers and retrieves a butter knife and a chopping board before settling down at the dining table, her back turned to you.

As you turn around, you feel Charles’ strong arms enclose around your waist, his warm hands settling onto your stomach as he whispers into your ear, "You heard the little lady. Everything's just so much more fun with her dad, you know?"

“Shut the fuck up” you quip, jabbing him with your elbow.

“I heard that!”

D/N's words cause you to pivot, fixing your gaze on the back of her head. “I’m sorry, D/N, I shouldn’t have said that,” you concede, shooting a discreet glance at Charles. “It’s just that your father has a knack for being an annoying sh—” You cut yourself off before the insult fully forms, forcing a tight-lipped smile as Charles's laughter reverberates. “Let’s just say, he can be an annoying husband sometimes, you know?”

“No! Papa is never annoying, you’re wrong,” she counters, shooting you a reproachful look before redirecting her attention to Charles, waving. “Come on, Papa, I really want apple pie. Hurry up, I’ve already started!”

“Coming, my love,” Charles murmurs softly, turning back to you and lifting your chin with a gentle touch. He places a tender kiss on your lips, then rests his forehead against yours. “So, I’m an annoying husband, huh?”

You smile and give a nonchalant shrug. “I could've said worse, trust me.”

“Papa!” D/N's voice rings out.

Charles barely flinches at your daughter's outburst, only chuckling softly and shaking his head as he moves toward the dining table, grabbing a cutting board and a knife along the way.

“Guys, we only need about eight to ten apples!” you call out from across the kitchen.

Charles winks at you. “Perfect, we have nine.”

Without further delay, you gather the ingredients for a shortcrust pastry and begin to mix them together.

Some time later…

As you finish rolling out the second dough, D/N rushes over, balancing a large bowl of sliced apples in her arms, and exclaims, “Here, Maman! We finished!”

"Thank you so much, my love," you reply, guiding her to settle the bowl onto the counter before heading towards the oven to turn it on.

Charles lifts D/N onto the counter, and you reach into the cupboard to retrieve the cinnamon, salt, flour, and sugar, handing them to your daughter. With a few instructions, she sprinkles the ingredients into the bowl of apples and begins stirring eagerly.

As D/N continues, you feel Charles' arms wrap around you, and he mischievously pinches the side of your waist, prompting you to shriek and swat his hand away, shooting him a playful glare. "Stop that!"

Once everything's mixed together, D/N eagerly assists you in assembling the pie while Charles holds open the oven door for you to slide it in.

"Perfect," you exclaim, clapping your hands together. "We did really well."

D/N squeals with excitement, jumping up and down before extending her hand towards you, palm facing up. "High-five, Maman!"

You promptly oblige, meeting her hand with yours before she moves on to Charles.

Two hours later…

"Two scoops of vanilla ice cream on your slice?" you inquire, arching an eyebrow at your daughter, who struggles to keep her head up, her eyes fluttering closed momentarily before snapping back open.

"Huh?" she mumbles, rubbing her eyes. "Yes, I'm starving, Maman."

You share a knowing glance with Charles, his dimples appearing as he smiles.

With a nod of understanding, you heap two scoops of ice cream onto her slice of golden apple pie, pushing the plate towards D/N.

Both you and Charles observe quietly as she struggles to eat even a single forkful before conceding defeat with a sigh.

Looking up from her plate, D/N's eyes flit between you and Charles, a sheepish smile playing on her lips. "Actually... I'm not hungry anymore." Before you can respond, she hops up from her seat, declaring, "I'm tired. I’m going to bed now."

She gives Charles a goodnight hug, then comes to you, avoiding eye contact as she quickly embraces you. "Good night, Maman."

In the blink of an eye, she vanishes from the kitchen, her footsteps on the marble floor echoing faintly as she races down the corridor, until they're drowned out by the resounding slam of her bedroom door.

You and Charles share a glance, both of you unable to contain your laughter.

After the laughter subsides, you stand up, holding D/N’s plate, and remark, “I’ll pop this in the freezer.”

As you finish storing everything away, Charles rinses the final plate and settles it onto the drying rack. Patting his hands on a paper towel, he fixes you with a tender gaze.

Though you know it's irrational, a wave of insecurity washes over you, making you acutely aware of all your perceived flaws.

"I love you. Happy wedding anniversary to us, mon cœur," Charles' sweet words halt your anxious thoughts as he closes the distance between you, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

Your breath catches as his tongue traces patterns across your collarbone, his teeth gently nibbling at your flesh.

It takes considerable effort to suppress a moan, but you manage to respond, "I love you, baby. Here's to at least eighty more."

You feel Charles' smile against your skin before he raises his head, eliciting a whimper as the cool air grazes your now raw neck. Before the sound can fully escape, Charles silences it by pressing his lips firmly against yours. The tension that had built up earlier floods over you like a tsunami, his hands exploring your body as your tongues dance, vying for dominance, until he breaks away abruptly.

Both of you are left breathless.

Once he catches his breath, Charles extends his hand to you, which you grasp eagerly—you need all the support you can get to avoid collapsing onto the floor; your legs feel like jelly.

Noticing your predicament, Charles' lips curl into a proud smile, prompting an eye roll from you as he effortlessly scoops you into his arms, bridal style, and plants a tender kiss on your cheek.

"I think we should continue this in the bedroom, mon cœur," he whispers, carrying you down the hallway, anticipation making your teeth capture your bottom lip.

yourusername

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yourusername I've loved you three six summers now, honey, but I want 'em all... 💕

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charles_leclerc Sounds like a beautiful plan ❤️

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username AHHH THE 3RD PIC WITH D/N??? I'M CRYING

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1:11 ───ㅇ───────── 3:25

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jyoongim · 2 months

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~BLOOD & BLISS~

Human!Alastor x wife!Reader

Themes: 1930 based! Human!Alastor x wife!Reader, domestic life! fluff, smut, devotion, slight manipulation, mention of children, pregnancy, blood, murder, secrets

Chapter two chapter four

Chapter 3

Note: sooooo as y’all know Alastor and wife!reader have already been married for a few years (by the time they have their last child their marriage will be 16-20 years.)

Since you had mentioned wanting children, Alastor has taken it upon himself to fuck you on very surface in the house. You had never seen your husband so riled up. When he returned from work, he would always somehow coax you upstairs to make a mess of you. You were often filled with his cum that you were sure you had to be pregnant by now, but you didn’t think about it too much, just letting nature do its thing.

You were prepping for lunch, as Alastor said he wanted to come home and eat. You decided to keep it simple, opting to make salmon cakes and cabbages. The cabbages were boiling as you moved on to make the cakes. When you opened the can of fish, the smell made you queasy, making your stomach lurch and you quickly made yourself to the bathroom.

You had broken out in a cold sweat as you dry heaved into the toilet. You whimpered as your stomach twisted. You have never had such a reaction to fish before, so why did you feel so sick all of a sudden?

You splashed some cold water on your face and looked at your reflection.

Eyes scanning yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t see what ailment had fallen over you. You looked a little pale but that could be from anything. Your eyes lingered on your midsection.

could you be…

You turned and pressed your hands against your stomach, smoothing out your dress to be flat. Heart beating out your chest, you caressed your stomach. Your stomach had a slight bump, something that you had chalked up from your indulgence in sweets. But it was rounder than how it usually looked.

Your eyes widened and quickly went downstairs to phone the doctor.

—————————————————————————————-

“Well ma’am congratulations! It would appear you are around 12 weeks.”

The doctor smiled at you, waiting for your response.

You were stunned.

Pregnant.

You were pregnant.

You cleared your throat nervously “w-what am i suppose to do?”

The question held uncertainty but you had no idea what or how to process this news.

A small part of you was happy, you finally were gonna have a baby with Alastor. The other part was nervous and scared, you didn’t have the slightest thought on how to raise a child.

The doctor chuckled “Its normal to be scared or nervous. This is your first time after all but don’t worry. I recommend attending mothering classes, to get the knowledge and familiar with baby terms, symptoms, and how to prepare. You’re a bit vitamin-deficient but more fruits and greens can help with that. You’ll experience morning sickness here and there so don’t push yourself. The important thing is that you get as must rest as possible. Stress isn’t good for you or the baby.”

You jotted down some notes as the doctor filled you with some information and thanked him for his time. He gave you your next appointment and answered any other health questions you had. You made a mental note to visit these mommy classes.

You sighed as you closed the door to your home. Your mind was reeling and you were filled with so many emotions.

You hadn’t thought you would get pregnant so soon but Alastor was very if not persistent when it came to keeping you filled.

You soon had a smile on your face as you thought of the little one growing within you. You knew Alastor didn’t mind having a baby, but you couldn’t help but wonder how he would react to the news.

Would he be excited to be a Daddy? Would he want a boy or a girl?

You were sure he wouldn’t mind either way.

You couldn’t wait to tell him the good news.

————————————————————————————————-

Alastor let some jazz tunes play as he looked over some scripts and news for his next segment. He stole a glance at the clock and got up from his chair, grabbing his jacket.

It was lunch time.

He was headed home to spend his break with his wife.

A pleasant shiver ran through him at the thought of taking his sweet wife over the meal she prepared for him.

He had been fucking his wife nonstop since she mentioned children and the thought of her swollen with his child always sent his cock swelling.

He placed his hat and jacket on the couch as he made his way to the kitchen. He was greeted with the sight of you dressed fairly comfortable, not in your usual polished attire. Your hair was pinned up and wrapped, you were dressed in your silk robe, which was dropping off your shoulders, exposing them. You were humming as you washed the dishes.

You looked ravishing.

He crept up behind you, making you jolt when his long arms wrapped around your midsection. He pressed his lips to the junction of your neck, littering your shoulder and neck in kisses. “Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes darlin” he drawled, nuzzling his nose into the underside of your jaw. You giggled as Alastor nipped at your skin, wiping your soapy hands on a towel you spun around to wrap your arms around his neck, leaning up to kiss his lips “Hello to you too dear. I hope you’re hungry. I made fish cakes. Dont want you too tired heavy with a full meal when you have to dazzle the masses”

A wide smile stretched across his face, eyes lidded “What if I just want dessert?” He jested as you swatted at his broad chest with a blush sprouting on your face.

“Oh shush! Sit down and eat” you huffed, shoving a plate into his chest.

Alastor chuckled and took the plate and moved to leaned over the kitchen island.

”Are you feeling ok my dear? Not that I mind, no, but you seem tired” he took a took a sip of tea, eyeing you.

You fidget with your fingers “I am feeling better, had a bit of a upset stomach this morning and paid the doctor a visit” you tried to hide your smile as his brows furrowed and dropped the cake to look you over like a worried hen.

His hands took yours as he frowned “you’re not coming down with anything are you? Why ain’t you page me at the studio i would have gladly took you.”

You leaned into his chest, smiling at him “weeelll i did come down with something and I fear i wont be rid of it anytime soon” oh you were torturing the poor man.

He had panic in his eyes as he was unaware of what it was. Wanting to remain strong and supportive for your sake.

”well whatever it is I will make sure to be there with you through it all” he declared.

Oh this was sweet.

”did the doctor tell you what it was at least?” He asked.

You smiled, catching him off guard, as you placed his hands on your stomach. Alastor was confused when you did so, his hands spanned along your stomach. You were a bit rounder but you did like sweets.

You watched as the realization dawned on his face. His jaw dropped and his brown eyes looked at your in shock. “A-are you…” you frantically nodded, unable to conceal your giggling as he wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you.

”Oh darling really? Youre..you’re really? Youre pregnant?” His voice grew excited.

”hehehe yes yes were having a baby! Alastor we are having a baby” your face was attacked in kisses. “Doc said im 12 weeks, looks like your resilience paid off” you giggled as your husband smoothed his hands over your stomach, crouching down as he laid his forehead against the bump.

”A-are you happy?” You couldn’t help but ask. He looked up at you, eyes shining and smile big “Oh baby you just don’t know.” He kissed your stomach, cooing, before kissing your lips. “You’ve made me the happiest. Almost like we got married all over again” he whispered against your lips.

He rested a hand on your stomach, caressing the bump. “Ooh I can’t wait to see how motherhood shapes you cher” he kissed your forehead, making you sigh lovingly.

Alastor had decided to page the studio to tell them something came up at home and the two of you spent the rest of the afternoon cuddled on the couch; Alastor had you tucked into his side as he stroked your stomach, already in love. The two of you had discussed what the next steps would be and how to move forward.

All the sweetness and lovey-dovey led to the two of you giving into more sensual desires, really just enjoying each other and reestablishing the love between the two of you.

You slipped your robe back on as you broke the heated kiss your husband had pulled you into. He groaned when you pulled away and went to get off his lap, hands kneading your hips. “Where you going sweetness” he purred as you giggled standing

”To freshen up. Since you’re home maybe we can really hunker down on what we gonna do for this baby mister” you said heading upstairs. Alastor pouted, listening to your footsteps move around. He got up and went to put up the lunch you made, he’ll take it with him when he’s out working late.

Speaking of which….he needed to spruce up a few loose ends he had been watching and would let to get those done before you needed all his attention.

He was confident in his ability to keep his sins away from your lives at home, after all he had crafted a beautiful reality here with you and he didn’t want that to be ruined by anything or anyone.

He whistled an old tune as he thought of you and a smile appeared on his face.

He was over the moon to find out you were pregnant.

He couldn’t wait to see how motherhood treated you.

To watch your body transform to provide for his child. How did he get so lucky to have a woman like you?

He wondered if you’ll have a boy or girl, he preferred a baby girl but he didn’t really care as long as you were happy.

After he cleaned up the kitchen he headed upstairs and Alastor swore his heart skipped a beat at the sight before him.

You were asleep on your side, one hand under your cheek and the other resting against the small baby bump, slowly stroking it. He threw a blanket over you and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. Satisfied that you were comfortable, he got his clothes from the other day from the closet and headed downstairs outback to wash his clothes.

It was gonna be a pain to get the stains out.

————————————————————————————

Sooooo what do you guys think?? I hate im going so slow but i need to build up some plot lol. I promise Alastor gone slip up!!

Remember to comment on pin for tag and like and comment!

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#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #jyoongim #alastor x y/n #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor smut #alastor hazbin hotel #Alastor fluff #human alastor x reader #human Alastor x wife reader

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lydiimae · 21 days

Text

Gentle

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, panic attack, fluff hehe, Anthony being the sweet husband ik he is

A.N: Hello my loves and hello dearest anon ^-^/! This one is a bit on the shorter side (2.5k words) but I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope I gave you what you wanted Nonnie. I imagine Anthony (I'M SO EXCITED TO SEE SEASON 3 MARRIED ANT AND KATE) as a protective and loving husband, who is also extremely gentle when he wants to be. Also, Infatuation pt two is in the works, for those that are eager (thank you btw <3 T-T) it should be out by next week at the latest. P.S I am planning on uploading at least twice a week hehe! Enjoy my dears! <3

Req found here <3

Marrying a Viscount was always going to be stressful, it came with responsibility. As well as a certain necessity to be perfect, at least that is the thought that nagged you. It was only a matter of time before the stress of being Anthony Bridgerton's wife caught up to you.

You had honeymooned in Edinburgh and Bath, all of the usual quiet places. He wished to make it just that, quiet and peaceful as both of you knew that would be one of the only times you would live in that blissful silence. Without worry of gossip, or rumors, or responsibilities.

Anthony also knew that you had a tendency to be anxious. Whether it be a result of how many people were present at a ball, or the rumors that tended to linger in your mind even after they slowly washed away from others. He wanted to show you the sights, and the gorgeous nature that was present in both of the cities that he had selected.

He also wished to show you the city of Bath. Take you to one of the large Roman baths, parade you around town, and wander the hills for hours on end. All lovely things that had taken your mind away from the lingering anxieties of being the new Viscountess.

It had worked marvelously, you had been the happiest he had seen you ever since you had met. You were completely in your element, especially when you were outside. It was a very loving, and freeing six months away.

Your leg jiggles as you fiddle with your gloves, looking out the window of the carriage as it rolls down the road to Aubery Hall. As soon as you had gotten back to England, your anxieties flooded back into your mind. You were already dreading what was going to happen. You and Anthony were already planning to attend a ball tomorrow, the first one of your marriage.

You hated it, you knew that people would talk, the women would glare and whisper, perhaps even confront you. You did not want to deal with it. You wished to be back in Bath, having a picnic with your husband, far away from the gossip.

You feel a hand on your knee and turn. "You have been antsy for four whole hours, my love. What is it?" He asks, moving his hand to yours and giving it a squeeze. You chew on your bottom lip and settle for resting your head on his shoulder. "I am only nervous for the ball tomorrow." You whisper.

"The ball, or the people?" He returns, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before tilting your chin up so he can look at you. You frown slightly and he gives a comforting grin. "They will talk, you know that, but none of it will matter. It is just that, talk." He murmurs before pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

"But what if... you leave and then I am alone and one of them tries to-" You begin, but he cuts you off swiftly with another kiss. A longer one, but still as sweet as before. You sigh and rest your forehead against his. "You are so much more capable than you know, Y/N. You are the perfect Viscountess and the perfect Bridgerton. None of them shall ever be able to take either of those two things away from you." He whispers.

You smile as your cheeks heat up from his speech. "You are mine, mine to protect and mine to love. I take that duty very seriously." He finishes, cupping your cheek. You lean into his touch and smile. "I love you." You whisper back and he grins. "And I love you." He returns.

Tomorrow comes all too quick, and soon you are in the large closet in your master bedroom, your maids pulling on the strings of your corset to get it to your liking. Anthony, however, waits downstairs in his study already dressed up fully for the occasion.

You had promised to try and be quick, and he knows you tried to keep that promise. He also knew that you wanted to look perfect, so he did not mind being a bit late to the ball. He wished for you to be as comfortable as you could be. After about thirty minutes of waiting, he had sent his family ahead, promising to meet them there.

He would be lying if tonight was a relaxed night for him. He was a ball of nerves, but he knew how to hide them well. He was not nervous for him, no, he was nervous for you.

He knew that you were perfect, and all of the much older and married members of the ton did as well. It was the cruel debutantes he worried about. He knew that many of them would be bitter, even if they were not interested in him. It was many women's third or fourth social season, many women would take that out on any kind soul they could find, and you were the kindest.

He downs his glass of scotch and adjusts his cravat before standing up and going to the bottom of the staircase. He wanted to see you now, and he would not wait another second. Just as he is about to call out, you appear at the top of the steps, dressed in the infamous Bridgerton blues.

The gown is a gorgeous navy blue, and you have paired it with long, white, silk gloves. Your hair is pulled back in his favorite way, an elegant pin holding it up in an elaborate bun. To tie it all together, you are wearing the diamond necklace and earrings he bought you in Edinburgh. So simple, yet so incredibly beautiful. So you.

You smile at him as you walk down the stairs and he just about dies right there. "My God, you look ethereal." He whispers as he offers you his arm. You gladly take it and he grins, pressing a kiss to your forehead before leading you to the carriage.

The driver opens the door of the carriage once the two of you arrive at Lady Danbury's grand estate. You look out at the many other women and men filing out of their carriages and feel a familiar sense of dread, causing you to gnaw on the skin on the inside of your cheek.

"Darling?" He asks after a moment and you look up, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment once you realize he has probably been holding his hand out for you for some time. "Sorry." You mumble, before taking his hand and allowing him to pull you to your feet and help you out of the carriage.

The two of you walk hand in hand into the ballroom, which is bustling with activity. However, when the Viscount and his new bride enter, all of the chattering halts. The eery silence makes you wrap your arms around one of his, the sense of dread looming over your head only getting more intense.

He notices and moves down, kissing you softly on the lips. Part of it is for show, of course, but part of it is also because he knows that it will calm your nerves down to a point where you can manage them. He just knows, always.

He pulls away. "Come on, we are going to make this boring night a good one, hm?" He murmurs. You smile gently and nod, walking deeper into the ball. You hear the whispers, the cruel words from the other women, but choose to ignore them for now.

The two of you arrive at the space on the floor where his family stands. He lets go of your arm with a kiss on your cheek and enters a conversation with Colin. You walk to Eloise, of course, and begin to speak to her about your newest literary obsession.

Anthony eventually finds himself surrounded by his friends, leaving you and Eloise to your own devices. "It is quite an interesting story, I am surprised I only found just found it." You hum as she grins. She had recommended the book Frankenstein after you had said you wished to read more of the classics. "I am surprised as well, you always struck me as a horror type of woman." She teases, bumping your shoulder. You laugh lightly as she does.

"Well, now I know that I am only to come to you for book recommendations as my husband is quite lacking in that department." You return, your eyes filled with playful affection. "Well, I could have told you that, Y/N. My brother, it seems, only likes books in the historical genre." She sighs and looks at her glass of lemonade. "I shall be right back, I am going to get more lemonade." She says and is off before you can protest.

You frown and look around for someone else to talk to, to hide behind really, as you wait. Before you can you are approached by none other than Cressida Cowper, an absolute addict to gossip. "Y/N L/N, I am surprised to see you alone. Has he grown bored of you already?" She says, tilting her head.

You wince and sigh. You knew it was coming, Cressida always had a knack for finding you when you were alone and vulnerable. Often times her insults insist on picking on your nervous demeanor, or even your kindness. The use of your maiden name, however, stung uniquely. A sign that she thought your marriage insignificant, and who knows how many others did. You can feel your breathing pick up already.

"Cressida. It is lovely to see you." You say softly, turning to face her head on. She rolls her eyes at your blatant disregard for her question. "Indeed. It is always a pleasure seeing how... dull you look. I am surprised the Viscount has not already taken a mistress, I mean, he would do well to." She sneers. "I-" You begin but she cuts you off.

"You know I am right. You are dull, Y/N. You always have been. It was a miracle you got as much attention as you did when you debuted and an even bigger miracle that you got married to Anthony. He will grow bored of you, just as everyone has." She scoffs before sauntering off to her next target.

You feel the heat of tears in your eyes and the familiar feeling of tightening in your chest. You know Cressida can be cruel, but what if she got those words from another? What if she was right? Perhaps Anthony will grow bored, perhaps he already has. The thoughts have you going into a spiral, your breathing picking up until you realize you cannot breathe anymore.

Eloise, upon noticing that Cressida had made her way over to you, rushes back. "Oh God, that woman is nothing but a jealous old spinster, Y/N." She whispers, putting her glass down and reaching out before she realizes that you are already too far gone. She takes your hand and begins to walk in search of her brother, "Hold on, Y/N. He has to be near. It will be alright." She says softly, though it does nothing to stop the state of panic you are already in.

She finds him about two minutes later, and you are already in tears. She drags you to him and spins him around. "Cressida." She whispers before leaving the two of you together. He immediately wraps his arms around you and leads you out of the ballroom to one of the balconies, whispering sweet nothings into your ear the entire way.

"Alright. Look at me, my love." He murmurs once you are outside, grabbing your hands in his and pressing them to his chest so you can feel his heartbeat. "Ready?" He whispers when your tear-filled eyes meet his and you nod.

"Alright, in..." He breathes in and you do the same, your breathing stuttering as you try your best to follow. "And out..." He whispers, exhaling with you. The two of you have gone through this many times. He had helped you when you were courting, when you were engaged, and he will help you until the end of time.

After a few moments of him guiding you, your breathing calms and you wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your face into the fabric of his cravat. "What did she say, darling?" He murmurs, rubbing your back gently.

You hesitate, and he senses your apprehension. "I will not get angry with you over words that such an insignificant woman spoke, I will not cause a scene. I promise. I only wish to know before I take you back home, hm?" He whispers, gently cupping your cheeks so he can look at you.

You wait for a moment before taking a deep breath and nodding. "She said that you would grow tired of me, just like everyone else. That you would take a mistress. She said I was dull." You whisper back, your grip on his shirt tightening.

His face darkens for a moment before he pulls you back into his embrace. "She knows nothing, my love. If you were dull, I would not want to spend every waking moment of my life with you. I would not have married you if you were not perfect for me in every single way." He whispers, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

"But I... I do this so often. I get so... so anxious. I am hardly a Viscounte-" You start but he cuts you off. "You are the perfect Viscountess. Y/N," He begins, pulling back a bit so he can look at you. "I do not say that lightly. I know that it has only been a short six months since we were wed, but I am more secure in my belief that you will be the perfect Viscountess. The perfect mother, the perfect head of my house. You are the perfect woman for me and for my family. Do not doubt that ever. Especially over some silly statement a foolish, sad woman made." He says, caressing your cheeks.

Your eyes burn at his speech, and your heart flutters. You lean in and press a lingering kiss to his lips before pulling away. "I love you so very much, Anthony." You whisper.

He grins, and you swear you see the faintest of pinks spread over his cheeks. "And I love you, Viscountess Bridgerton." He whispers, pressing another kiss to your lips. "Let us go home. Lady Danbury will not miss our company I'm sure." He hums as he parts, making you nod in response.

That is just what the two of you do. After saying goodbye to his family, and to Lady Danbury, the two of you make your way to the carriage.

The rest of the night is spent in bed, speaking of the future, whispering love confessions in each other's ears, and loads of kisses. Who knew that a man who seems so brutish could be so gentle just for you?

#bridgerton fic #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton fluff #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton fanfic #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x female reader #fluff #cutie pie anthony #bridgerton

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bananami · 3 months

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and just like that i’m back on my nanami bs. i hope this helps you all heal from the trauma that was season 2 of jjk <3 (cw: pure fluff, dad!nanami, wife!reader, sex is alluded to a number of times, nanami is just desperate for his wife ok)

“he just passed out, he usually naps for a good 30 minutes. i can do it in 20.”

you can’t help but laugh at your husband. ever since adopting yuuji the two of you have been adapting to your lives with a toddler. that included very limited one on one time, and it was taking a toll on nanami.

“i have to fold the laundry,” you’re tone is apologetic but your face tells him you find this amusing.

“you’re the greatest multitasker i know.”

you feel his arms wrap around you as you continue to fold yuuji’s t-shirts. the kid was so messy sometimes, it caused him to go through his entire closet in a weeks time. “we need to seriously go shopping and get him more things to wear.” you spun around to wrap your arms around his waist. “your child is a dirty little gremlin.”

“your husband is trying to be one too but you won’t let him act on it.”

“you are not gonna be 20 minutes, you say that but you’re not quick with it anymore old man.”

“who are you calling old man? i’m spry for my age.”

“see, you even sound like an old man.”

“an old man who just wants to show his wife how much he still loves her.” his hands slide up and down your back, holding you to him and bringing his lips to yours. “i love you. i miss you.”

“i miss you too kento,” you let him take his time kissing you. “ok, what if-“

“i love where this is going already.”

“i haven’t even told you.”

“the prospect of things makes me excited. really gets me going.”

you giggle, “so repressed.”

“you have no idea, it’s taking everything in me not to turn you around and accost you right here on the dining room table.” he leans his face down to nuzzle and kiss at your neck.

“accost?”

“accost. respectfully.”

you tighten your arms around his waist, satisfied with the heavy affection he’s showing you. “what if i call up gojo-“

“and just like that i’m soft.”

“kento!” you smack him in the back but can’t help the smile that sneaks onto your face. he’s so easy to rile up.

“you know the emotions his name invokes in me. i can’t stand him.”

“i was going to say, what if i called him up to see if yuuji can spend the weekend at his and geto’s place with megumi, and then you and i can have the entire weekend together. just the two of us.”

“i love him.”

“wow, wait until i tell him you said that.”

“i’ll never admit to it.” nanami takes your face into his hands, kissing at your lips over and over until a giggling voice breaks the moment.

“eeeeew!!” yuuji runs forward from the other side of the hallway, jumping up and down at nanami’s feet. “up, up, up!!” and when he does the pink haired little boy leans over to give you a kiss on the nose.

“thank you, yuuji,” you give his nose a kiss in return.

“thank you, mama!!”

nanami narrows his eyes and scratches at the boy’s belly, sending yuuji into another round of giggles at being tickled. “guess who’s house your gonna sleepover at this weekend.”

you send a look toward your husband. “he hasn’t agreed yet, i still have to call him.”

“he’ll agree. because if he doesn’t,” he presses a million little kisses all over yuuji’s face, “i might actually die. and then who will he have to annoy at work?”

“he does like to annoy you.”

“i’m well aware.”

“i’ll call him now.”

nanami sets yuuji down, sending him into the kitchen. before following him, he leans over to give you one last lingering kiss on the lips. “i love you,” his smile lifts into a tiny smirk, “and it is for that reason exactly that i say, with all of the love i can muster, i am going to ruin you this weekend.”

“ruin me?”

“ruin you. respectfully.”

#nanami x y/n #nanami x you #jjk nanami #jjk fluff #jjk headcanons #jjk x reader #nanami fluff #nanami kento #nanami x reader #papamin #baby yuuji

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wolfytoothy · 2 months

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miles as a father

stuff I'd think earth 42 miles would react, say,do, to you being pregnant and a first time father.

when you first came to Miles saying you pregnant. It was valentines day. So while you guys were at dinner you broke the news to him.

He was excited as fuck.

He was also nervous as fuck. He wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. Considering he was the prowler and stuff. But he made it work.

Matter fact, he was a W fiance. (Yea you guys are engaged)

He made sure you were okay, and never left you alone, he was everywhere. And when he was on a mission he made SURE to call and test you when he can.

He also when he's away, he leaves you at your agency were he KNOWS you'll be safe, considering that your besti is way to overprotective like him it makes perfect sense.

"Miles, I'm not a baby, I can take care of my self"

"Nuh uh, what happens is the enemy finds out bout you and desided to come after you, what then"

"Miles you and I both know that's a low risk"

"The chances are low, but never 0"

He goes everywhere with you, when you go shopping, run Aarons.

"Hey, aren't you supposed to be on maturity leave"

"Yea?"

"They why are my eyes looking at my pregnant wife, taking calls and giving orders like she is not" he said frowning a bit.

"Miles I run I company what do you want me to do" you complained

And best believe this man monitors you when you have to be back in control for a few minutes.

"Hey, time to stop" he said snapping his fingers.

"Miles I'm handling something"

"I don't care. Let J.B. handle it, I can see you stressing, let's go"

"Miiiillles🥺"

And don't think just because your pregnant he won't be taking you out on those dates.

"princesa, luciendo hermosa como siempre" (princess, looking beautiful as always) he said taking your hand assisting you put the car.

"gracias, mi amor" (thank you my love)

And don't think just because your pregnant, you don't dress fine as fuck. YOUR EATING IT ALL UP.

And of course miles always knows what to say and do when you cry.

It was a long day, and you guys ordered take out. You were 19 weeks pregnant. You guys ordered take out. And as soon as you looked in the bag, you groaned.

"What? Something wrong?"

"Yes bro,?" You whined on the verge of tears.

"Mama what's wrong?"

"They got my order wrong" you cried bursting into tears.

"What me to go get your right order-"

"No it's fine I'll eat it"

"Mami-"

"It's fine miles I'll eat it"

and you know your boy is always purpared with those complimentsin hand and jokes that would make you feel better.

When it was the gender reveal party. He was mighty confident it was girl.

And of course mama Rio planned the baby shower AND the gender reval party.

When he found out if was a girl. That man was on a mission.

He brought new clothes, new shoes, new everything. Never in one million years would you think YOU would be the one telling him to "put it back", or "we have that at home" that was usually his line, but that while week. He was obsessed.

"Aww, ma look" he Said holding up pink little baby shoes

"Awww, that's cute, but we have that already"

"It won't hurt if she has two-"

"Put it back boy"

This man would rub your stomach, rub your back, do your hair, clean, cook, pamper you basically. And don't think you didn’t return. He he wanted to be the perfect husband then you could be the perfect wife right tf back.

But when it came to that nursery. You had a whole intire fight with him just so hevwoukd let you help out with the nursery.

"Miles please, you've been working your ass off lemme help"

"You can help by relaxing and letting me be your man"

"Don't start"

After a full 2 days of arguing. He finally caved in and agreed.

Finally the time came.

You were up stairs in the nursery, 9 months pregnant, 3 days past the due date, currently organizing clothes while Miles cleaned the kitchen. It was night, and you two were up late trying to get this damn baby out, but rested and decided to relax a bit. It wasn't till then you got up to pee.

So naturally you got up. Till you felt water trickle down your leg. Instantly.

"Uh. MILES"

"Huh!?"

"MY WATER BROKE"

Lemme tell you... that car was going 120 miles per hour. Whole assing down that high way nearly about to get pulled over.

This man waisted no time.

So now you were in the hospital room, getting contractions. But you weren't dilated enough yet, so the doctor had to make you walk around.

"Wait so your telling me these contractions are gonna get worse!?"

"Yes, ma'ma. You want the epidural when you can"

"Hell yes"

So you got the epidural and now you were just waiting.

Till the time came.

Thats when the baby girl was Born.

Maya Juanita Morales L/n

Born March 28.

When she was born. Miles cried his eyes out. Never in your life, have you seen this man cry so hard.

When he got the chance to hold her for the first time, he burst into tears again.

"She's so pretty, and tiny" he cried.

After that day, Everything changed for Miles. Not only was he the goat best friend, goat boyfriend, goat fiance, goat husband.

He IS AND SHALL BE THE GOAT FATHER, and you CAN'T tell me other wise.

You know from the start that this baby was gonna be a daddy's girl.

He always came in clutch. He was in love.

He rocked her to sleep, fed her when you weren't available, carried her everywhere, and OFCOURSE spoiled her. You can't tell me other wise.

That baby... almost came out looking exactly like miles, same eyes, ears, hair texture, lips, the only thing she inherited from you was your noise.

You carried her for 9 months, couldn’t sleep properly for 6 months, had morning sickness every morning, backed hurted, grew her in your stomach for 9 months. Just for her to pop out looking like her daddy. And worse she's a daddy girl.

Oh nahhh baby that ain't funna work twin.

And of course he had that first time dad scare.

literally him

...................

Any ways I just wanted to do this.

#miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles #e.42 miles #earth 42 miles x you #earth 42 miles fluff #miles morales x reader #atsv prowler #earth 42 prowler #miles morales prowler #First time father #Baby #daddy’s babygirl #sweet baby

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monzabee · 11 months

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hot girls support 44 – lh44

masterlist

Summary: The one where your husband realises that you are, indeed, his number one fan.

Pairing: lewis hamiton x wife!reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: cursing? (i’m not even sure), and a whole lot of fluff

Request: “Hi can you do we’re Lewis Hamilton wife is with him to see one of his races but she leaves the garage for some reason and over hears someone talking bad about her husband and she snaps and tells them straight and Lewis is watching her from a distance like damn that’s my wife”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i don’t know if this classifies as a drabble but let’s just pretend it does because i realised that i can’t write anything under 1k? this was a very fun request to work on, so thank you to anon, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

Both you and Lewis are private people when it came to your relationship. It has always been that way, with him leading a lifestyle in front of the cameras, and you preferring to stay away from those said cameras as much as you can. Over time, you both developed a rhythm, a delicate balance between Lewis's public persona and your desire for privacy. It was an unspoken agreement, an understanding that you valued above all else.. You knew how much Lewis's racing career meant to him, and you admired his ability to excel under the constant scrutiny. And in return, Lewis respected your wish for a quieter, more intimate life together. It was this mutual respect that solidified the foundation of your relationship, allowing it to thrive despite the challenges that fame and attention often brought.

That is not to say that you guys were completely private, of course. You’ve had your fair share of events the two of you attended as a couple, as well as races, but Lewis is always mindful of the fact that you don’t want cameras in your faces. In the early days of your relationship, the media had tried to capture glimpses of your relationship, eager to uncover every detail and learn more about the woman who finally made him give up his bachelor status. However, Lewis, being the fiercely protective partner that he was, had firmly set boundaries to shield your personal life from the prying eyes of the world. He cherished the sanctity of your bond and understood the importance of keeping certain moments sacred and away from the public eye.

The two of you have a special routine for the race days where you decide to join him on the track – you mainly spend your time inside the Mercedes garage, instead of lingering around where the cameras are most likely to be. However, you make sure to leave the garage for celebrations for those races where Lewis is up on the podium, celebrating him with the people who support him every step along the way whom he appreciates immensely; while the podium celebrations were reserved for the public eye, the garage held its own intimate victories. It was here that you celebrated the milestones and shared the unspoken triumphs, basking in the knowledge that your presence was an unwavering pillar of support for Lewis. But for the most part, you’re happy with your routine – it’s safe, familiar and it has worked for a very long time. So you don’t really know why you decided to take Roscoe on an impromptu tour of the paddock, especially when he gives you that look which clearly says that he would rather be taking his afternoon nap.

It's a good day despite the chaos everyone on the paddock seems to be in, but then again, there’s only a few hours until the qualifying session. So, in hopes of avoiding the human traffic, you decide to take Roscoe to a more secluded area in the back. As you walk, Roscoe happily wagging his tail by your side, you take in the sights and sounds of the paddock. The familiar smell of rubber and gasoline fills the air, mingling with the excited murmurs of fans and the distant roar of engines. It's a world you've come to know and appreciate, even if from a slightly different perspective. Lost in your thoughts, you suddenly hear voices growing louder as you approach a group of people gathered in conversation. Curiosity gets the better of you, and you slow your pace, intending to discreetly eavesdrop before continuing on your way. But as you get closer, you realize the topic of their conversation hits closer to home than you expected.

In hindsight, you know better to get involved in situations which might cause you to bother yourself with rude, petty people, but when it concerns your husband and everything that he has worked hard his entire life for, you don’t even hesitate. With the fierce protectiveness you feel inside, you clear your throat to get the attention of the engineers, “Excuse me,” you say as you give them a (fake) smile, “could you repeat that again, please?”

The group falls silent, their faces registering surprise and perhaps a touch of embarrassment. They exchange glances, seemingly unsure of how to respond to your unexpected intrusion. “We just meant that–” The man is quickly silenced by one of his friends elbowing him in the side.

You ignore the silent ow that comes from the man’s mouth and give the trio a stare down. “Well, I guess everybody is entitled to their opinions.” Your sweet smile and dulcet tone is enough to think them that everything is fine, but you’re quick to continue voicing your thoughts, “But that doesn’t give you the right to undermine a man’s hard work, especially when he has broken record after record and don’t even get me started on the fact that not only he is a pioneer in this sport, he is also a role model and inspiration to many and has impact beyond the track.” You let a frustrated hum, “Also, have some respect, the guy is an eight-time world champion.”

The guy who spoke before looks confused as he attempts to point out, “He won it seven–”

“Do you want me to let Roscoe attack you?” You ask as you point to the puppy sitting next to you, who, in hearing his name, looks up at you; all panting and happily sticking his tongue out.

Little do you know, Lewis had been watching the entire scene unfold from a distance, a mix of admiration and adoration in his eyes. He waits until the engineers leave in a hurry, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed on his chest. A smile tugs at the corners of Lewis's lips as he watches you handle the situation with such grace and confidence. As you turn around, ready to head back to the safety of the Mercedes garage, your eyes meet his, and a surge of warmth fills your heart. Walking towards you, Lewis closes the distance between you, his steps purposeful and full of pride. His arms quickly find their place on your waist as he mumbles, “Damn, that’s my wife.”

You roll your eyes at his antics, your face quickly mirroring the smile he gives to you. “Didn’t you see the sign? Apparently, ‘hot girls support 44’.”

“Is that so?” He hums, letting his hands wonder towards the back pockets of your jeans as he continuously presses kisses along your jaw, “It’s definitely right.”

As Lewis's lips trail along your jawline, sending shivers down your spine, you playfully swat at his chest. "Behave, Mr. World Champion. We're in a public place," you whisper, trying to suppress the laughter bubbling up inside you.

Lewis chuckles softly, his eyes sparkling with love and mischief. "Can't help it, love. Seeing you stand up for me like that, it's a turn-on," he teases, his voice laced with admiration. "But you're right, let's save the public displays of affection for later."

With a shared understanding and a silent promise, you and Lewis turn, making your way back to the familiar comfort of the Mercedes garage. In each other's presence, you find solace and strength, ready to face whatever lies ahead. And as Roscoe happily trots beside you, you can't help but feel grateful for the extraordinary life you share with the man who has captured your heart, both on and off the track.

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton fluff

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hanrinz · 1 year

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domestic katsuki & fluff, y'all have a kid, not proofread!based on the tv show 'the return of superman'.

thoughts about your husband bakugou katsuki on a reality show with your daughter taking on a challenge — spending a week without you.

how will they survive? how will your husband survive?

you were a little hesitant about this idea, knowing the two would be the equation of chaos, when left unattended.

though the thought intrigued you, knowing your husband was good- scratch that, he's amazing with housework and taking care of your daughter. you think he can actually manage to take on this challenge all by himself.

the first day without you, just messed up katsuki's morning routine. waking up without you by his side got him in a panicked state, looking around the room rapidly, seeing all the cameras set up around the room and then remembering about the challenge that he had taken on. he had released a sigh, seemingly relaxing.

[cc: seems like bakugou is looking for his wife, sigh. how would bakugou survive this? ]

it had you smiling, the caption had you giggle for a moment.

it was only six in the morning, he was up and cooking in the kitchen for breakfast. you think nothing could ever go wrong for katsuki, a wonderful cook he was. oh how wrong you were

you may have oversetimated your husband, it seems like bakugou had made a mistake once again, he had cooked too much food. still thinking about you while cooking, huh?

[ cc: habits do die hard ]

it was now the time to wake up your cute little princess, which also proves to be difficult. she was stubborn as her father, not really a morning person — he wonders how you even manage to get this little brat up in the morning?

without you at home it seems like katsuki have resorted for the issue to result in bargaining with your little girl for an ice cream if she behaved. you have never seen a more excited expression on your daughter with the mention of her favorite ice cream. you'll just have to scold katsuki, when you get home.

if waking up your little girl was hard, getting ready was far more difficult, when it shouldn't have.

by no means katsuki can tie his own neck tie, but it's not really the same on how you do it the way he likes. he huffed as though telling himself he just has to live like this for a week.

katsuki has a good sense of fashion, something he had picked up from his parents — it also seems his daughter had taken that from him too. she was only going to school and yet it looks like she's attending a fashion show!

[ cc: suni seems to be ready for school! ]

looking at the time from your wall, it was already 6:40? when did the time fly so fast?

his other concerns were now thrown out of the window as he fixed suni's lunch box and gathered her backpack, as they exited the premises of their home, turning around to the door last minute,

[ cc: ah, did bakugou forget something? ]

you realize what he was looking for.

no, he didn't forget anything, he could never. but, he was looking for you, again. like a muscle memory, turning around before leaving the house to place a kiss on your cheek. but, you weren't here and that just pisses katsuki off.

hell, it's the first day of the challenge and he already wants it to end.

◞♡ this was a rushed work sorry! likes & reblogs are highly appreciated!!

#ଓ stamped : love letters #bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou imagine #mha fluff #bnha fluff #mha headcanons #bnha headcanons #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou #roses ‘r rosie

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 11 days

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Dirty Work 52

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: I always come back to Loki.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Loki lingers, his head against your arm as you sit in the hue of spring. You could be calm if he weren’t there, if he hadn’t just altered your irrevocably. His wife?

You could’ve never imagined it. You can’t be his wife. You’re the maid. You’re lost and hopeless and unimportant. Yet he wants to marry you? You? Even your own father doesn’t want you. Until just then, you may have thought the same of man kneeling by your feet.

Should it feel special? Should you be happy? Doesn’t every woman dream of her wedding day? You didn’t. You never expected a husband. You never had the thought to spare marriage. It just didn’t seem realistic to you. It was never a possibility you had to weigh.

“You’re quiet,” he lifts his head slowly, looking up at you with his gemlike eyes, “aren’t you excited?”

You suck in your lip then let it out, “yeah, I’m just... surprised.”

“Mm, I’m sorry it wasn’t a better one,” he looks around, “no candles, no champagne... but there are flowers.”

“Yeah, I guess, er--”

You hear the doors and before you can face the intruder on your scene, Frigga’s voice unleashes in a shrill squeal, “did you do it? Oh, please, Loki, what did she say?”

He shifts and clears his throat. He grips the arms rest and pushes himself to his feet. He plants a kiss on your forehead before he straightens. He lets out a breath as he turns to his mother.

“We are getting married,” he says plainly.

“Oh, how wonderful,” she chimes, “oh, a daughter-in-law!... Again.” She chuckles lightly, “it will be like a fairytale.” She flutters over to you as Loki moves out of her way, “darling,” she takes your hand, tugging you up to your feet, “this will be even grander than Walpurgisnacht. Oh yes, this will be unforgettable.”

You look at Loki as he returns your helpless gaze. You pout in his direction as he shrugs. Your mouth curves deeper downward. Please help!

“I’ve got some silhouettes in mind,” she pulls you away from the table, “Hela showed me this app, Pinterest I believe it’s called. I have all these splendid things saved.”

‘Sorry,’ Loki mouths and turns his hands out as you’re dragged away from the sunlight and the serenity of nature. Back to the dark house where you can’t breathe.

Inside, she takes you into the kitchen. She leaves you by the island as she flits around, dropping black tea into a pot and putting on the kettle to boil. She hums gleefully as you just stare. ‘Daughter-n-law'. That’s what she said. Would that make her your mother?

“Dear,” she turns to you and exhales, her expression dampening, “I recall you said your mother isn't with us anymore. I understand that may make this bittersweet for you but I will be here for you. Whatever you need, whatever questions you have, I’ll be happy to help. A wedding is a big thing. There’s much to do.”

You nod, “should we... should we hire a planner?”

“A planner? Gods no! I fancy myself a bit of an amateur but more than adequate,” she tuts, “we could have it at the house. Or perhaps we might seek out a nice chapel.”

You frown. It’s all so much so fast. She stops and puts her hand to her chest, “oh sorry, darling, I’m just so excited for you. I’m not trying to take over. Don’t be afraid to speak up. What do you think for a venue? Oh, perhaps a destination? Somewhere tropical?”

You cross your arms and peer over, your eyes catching the sheen of sunlight.

“The garden,” you murmur, “the gazebo. It’s all fixed up. We could put flowers around the rails.”

“That’d be a beautiful ceremony but what about the reception? We need space.”

“Oh,” you babble.

“Certainly we could make it work. We could fit people into the garden, we may have to sacrifice a few hedges.”

“Not many,” you mutter.

“Pardon, dear?” She asks as the kettle clicks and she turns to grab it off the burner, “what do you mean by that?”

“I...” your shoulders slump at the realisation, “I don’t have anyone to invite.”

She’s quiet as she pours the steaming water into the tea pot, “that’s not true. You have us and oh, Bragi seemed quite fond of you.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Why not? Dear, we love Loki because we have to, we love you because we want to,” she smiles.

Your eyes drift away wistfully. She can’t understand. She has people, she has everything you ever wanted. Even with the promise of a pretty house, a gorgeous garden, and all that comes with it, it just doesn’t make you feel any different.

You want a dad who loves you. You want a mother who’s alive. You want anyone who isn’t just obligated to you.

“I’m sorry,” her voice goes low, “I’m not meaning to upset you. I’ll slow down. I understand it’s a lot--”

“How could you want me to marry him? I don’t belong—I shouldn’t-- I can’t be your daughter.”

“Why ever not?” She asks.

You scoff and push your shoulders up, “I’m not good enough.”

She laughs, but not a taunting laugh. It’s disbelieving. She takes you by the shoulders and makes you face her head on, “darling, let me tell you, you are. You... you have no idea.”

“No idea?” You shake your head as you look at her from beneath your lashes.

“About what you do to my son. No, you cannot see it but I do. My Loki. I’ve seen him married, I’ve seen him heartbroken, I’ve seen him through everything, but something’s different about this. About you,” he brings a hand up to caress your cheek and hairline, “you have a power over him. Once you claim it, this will all be so much easier.” She cups your cheeks and tilts her head with a coy smile, “that’s how a marriage should be, you will see. He’ll never admit it but my son is more like his father than you would think.”

You scrunch up your nose. You don’t believe her. You can’t. You don’t have power. You’re just you. You’re not special or anything like that. You now what you are to Loki. The same thing you’ve always been to him, whether his maid, his plaything, or his wife; convenient.

“You will see,” she assures as if she can hear your doubts, “and what always clears my mind is tea.”

✨

Frigga expounds at length about all the possibilities ahead of you. She has grocery list that goes beyond a mere wedding. An engagement party, a bridal shower, the rehearsal, and not to mention, a scandalous bachelorette. You only sink further into anxiety. What have you gotten yourself into?

Well, you never did say yes. You weren’t asked, were you? Doesn’t matter. It’s not like you have anywhere to go.

You hold your chin, gnawing on your lip as Frigga rambles on about wedding colours. Green is nice but what about something subtle. Oh, or metallic. You simply nod, offering little to her monologue.

Your eyes wander past her to the windows. The afternoon wanes as evening cools the air. You mourn the sunlight as it shifts and the curtains dull.

“Ahem,” the clearing of a throat draws you away from your detachment.

Frigga quiets as she glances at her husband. He stands in the doorway, greeting you both with a subtle smile.

“I hate to interrupt, dear,” he says to Frigga, “but I was hoping I might be spared a moment with our future daughter before the sun sets. It has been a long day and I’d hate to keep her later than need be.”

“Oh, uh, certainly,” Frigga pushes her shoulders back, her cheeks tinging a dainty pink, “time must’ve got away from me. I’m so sorry, darling.” She reaches over and squeezes above your elbow, “I have been going on and on.”

“You will have lots of time to do so,” Odin chuckles, “but I feel the rain coming soon and I would like a walk in the gardens before then.” He tilts his head towards you, “may I have the honour?”

Frigga nudges you dips her head, “go on.”

You stand and swallow tightly, crossing the room to Odin as he waits patiently. You offer a sheepish look as he offers his arm. You thank him and walk with him into the entryway. He lets you retrieve your shoes before you go to the back doors and he ushers you outside.

You’re quiet as you descend the steps and stroll between the hedges. You feel the cool dampness creeping in the air. He’s right about the rain. You cling to his arm as a shiver crawls up your spine.

He draws away briefly, slipping off his thick cardigan, and he slips it over your shoulders. You murmur a thank you and he loops his arm with yours once again. You carry on, uncertain. You can sense he means to say something and you think you know what. He isn’t as happy as Frigga about this union.

You brace yourself for it. For him to put all your doubts to voice. You’re not good enough for Loki. This is a mistake. You are a pretender and you don’t belong in this family.

“My son is a fool,” he begins, shaking you with his soft but deep tone. You exhale, somewhat comforted that you were right. For once. “The way he’s behaved, foolish. And that’s to put it lightly, my dear.” He reaches to pat your hand in the crook of his arm, “you deserve much better than either of my sons.”

You keep your chin low as you watch your feet. A twig crushes beneath your sole as leaves rustle to your left. You glance over and stare after a short tail before it disappears. It’s only then you realise where he’s leading you.

The gazebo rises ahead of you with it’s domed roof. He stops you at the bottom and turns. He lets you go and lowers himself to sit on the step. He pats the wood next to him. As you sit, he looks up, admiring the structure.

“You did a good job,” he says.

“What?”

“On this,” he touches the railing, “looks sturdy.”

“Oh, well I... I only called the carpenter.”

“You did what needed to be done. What my son would not.”

“Mm, I guess,” you shrug.

“You did,” he insists, “do you not see it?”

“See what?” You twiddle your fingers.

“You are much stronger than he thinks you are. Than you think you are,” he shakes his head, “you underestimate yourself. My son, as much as I hate to think I raised him that way, while whine and whine before he gets anything done. If he can avoid it, it won’t be done. But you, I see it clearly, you do things. You know what life is. You just get through it.”

You hum and bite down on your cheeks. Not having a choice isn’t bravery. If anything, it’s the opposite.

“You shouldn’t. Just get through it. You should have some joy. You shouldn’t be locked away in the dark away from the sunlight. You should flourish in it,” he leans against you, “don’t let this marriage be like everything else.”

You dip your head. He sees right through you.

“You’re wrong, I’m not strong. I’m weak. I only do things because I’m afraid,” you sniffle.

“But you can admit that fear. You can face it. Not many people can.”

You sighs and drag your hands up and down your calves, hunching over your knees.

“If you want to marry my son, I will not say a word to stop you, but I do want you to make a promise to me,” he continues, “a small one. Rather, think of it as a promise to yourself.”

“Okay,” you wilt as you look over at him. His eyes are a bluish grey with flecks of slate. His gaze is gentle.

“It’s what we spoke of before,” he says, “you must tell my son no.”

“No?”

“Ah, yes, I do regret he didn’t hear more it earlier in his life but he does need to hear it. Especially from you,” he intones.

“But I...”

“You will. And when you do, he will listen.”

“How-- no, he wouldn’t.”

“Ah, I know. My son is isn’t very good at that but he will. He must. He has reason to listen now. You are not his wife yet,” he puts his hand over yours, just atop your knee.

You give a strained look, somewhere between a smile and frown. You’re flattered that he believe in you but you don’t. He doesn’t know the way it. He doesn’t know the way you are.

“Alright, let’s practice,” he pulls his hand away and claps. He pushes himself to his feet with a grunt and spins to face you. He adjusts his collar and lifts his chin, putting on face, almost a pinched look, “now, wife,” his voice is slightly off, “what I say is law and you will do as I say.”

You stare at him, confused. You purse your lips and shake your head. What is he talking about?

He grins and shows his palms, “I am him. Pretend I’m my son,” he lowers his voice, “now, we’ve had enough of this conversation and I have made my decision.”

You pick your nail, watching him dumbly.

He breaks character again, “say no.”

“What?”

“Say it,” he orders then once more his poster shifts. “Wife, I will not tell you again.”

You blink and take a deep breath, “n--no?”

He sputters, “pardon? What was that?”

“No,” you say firmer, heart beating, “no, I—I won’t.”

“But I said so--”

“Oh, um, okay--”

“No, no, no,” Odin waves his hands, “keep going.”

“Uh, okay, uh, no,” you say again.

“No? You’re telling me no?” He puts on a display which does remind you of Loki. “How can you tell me no?”

You look at him and blanch. His grey eyes stare back, goading you on. He bows his head slightly.

“Yes, I mean, no. Yes, I am telling you no. No,” you steady your voice, “no.” He spins his finger and you repeat it again, loudly.

He arches his brow and puts his hand to his chest, “no?” He sounds almost pathetic, “but darling,” he comes forward and lowers himself to his knees, one at a time. He takes your hand in his, “darling, please, don’t be mad at me.”

You scoff as his theatrics turn ridiculous. You make a face and roll your eyes, “he wouldn’t...”

“He will,” Odin assures. “If he knows you’re serious, if you don’t give him what he wants right away, oh, I think you could give him a right scare. As I have it, you already have done.” He lifts himself slightly and angles to sit beside you again, “just perhaps this time you needn’t scale the roof.”

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #maid au #dirty work #mcu #marvel #avengers

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lfghughes · 5 months

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Can you do an imagine where jack’s wife (reader) and kids are at the game when he gets hurt and then after when they bring him home?? A little angst ending in lots of fluff

a/n: y'all i am not good at writing an angry jack because all i can think of when i see him is just a small bean

Your heart was in your throat when Jack went down on the ice, the hit had been a hard one and you knew Jack well enough to know that if he was staying down it was because he was hurt. But you also were trying to not react too much because you had your six year old daughter and your one year old son with you.

Your daughter especially was at the age where she started to question certain things and she picked up on emotions really well. So even if you weren’t reacting she knew something was wrong with her dad but you had to stay calm to keep her calm. “Mommy..is daddy okay?” She asked and you nodded your head. “Daddy is okay, the doctor is just going to check him.” You told her as he skated off the ice.

It didn’t take long until someone who worked for the team found you, and you were sure it was because Jack had sent them which was a pretty good indication this game was done for him. Your stomach was in knots as you held onto your one year old and your six year old. The minute Jack came out of the locker room you could tell he was pissed which meant the news really wasn’t good.

Your daughters hand slipped from yours as she ran up to Jack “Daddy!!” She exclaimed forgetting all her nervousness from earlier and just excited to see him. “Not right now little bug.” He told her as he placed a gentle hand on her head, leading her back to you. “Let’s go home.” He told you, his voice rough which only made that pit in your stomach grow more.

You hated when Jack was upset. When you got to the car the both of you helped strap the little ones to their car seats and then you went towards the drivers seat “I’ll drive.” You told him and immediately a frown grew on his lips. “I’m literally fine, stop treating me like I’m going to break.” He snapped at you out of nowhere. “Jack, I’m not doing this right now. Get in the car.”

It was a clear warning and you were just happy he listened and went to his side. Once you got home you didn’t say another word to Jack, instead you got started on the kids bedtime routine which included baths. This alone took what felt like forever with the two of them and without Jacks help it only felt like it took longer.

But once your one year old was down for bed you moved onto your six year old and in between all of this Luke had shown up to check on his brother. Your daughter before you could convince her otherwise had walked over to Jack. “Daddy can you read me a story tonight?” And with a shake of his head Jack responded “Not tonight.” And with that your six year old returned to you disappointed.

Once you had her in bed you could hear the faint conversation Jack was having with Luke and it didn’t sound great. The last thing you heard was Luke mutter to his brother “You don’t have to be such an ass.” Before you heard your front door shut. “Mommy will be back, pick out a book.” And with those words you went and found Jack.

Your husband sat at the kitchen counter, his head in his hands and your heart sank once again. You walked over to him, your arms wrapping around him and you could feel him soften under your touch. “Your brother isn’t wrong but I get why you’re upset.” You whispered to him. “I’m sorry, baby.” And you could tell it was a genuine apology and that finally everything was catching up to him.

“I just hate letting the team down and you guys.” He whispered to you. “Well right now you have a six year old upstairs who just wants her dad to read her a story.” You reminded him and he just nodded his head. “You’re her hero, Jack. Just remember that next time.” And with those words you saw something shift in Jack and you knew that tonight wouldn’t be repeated again.

#jack hughes x reader #jack hughes #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes imagine

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arien-rey · 6 months

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idea for something, i'll let you do whatever you want with it.. ;)

since miguel is always so damn stressed, his partner would set up one day a week where they just relax and spend time together. sometimes, there's wine or whiskey involved.

miguel has a high tolerance for alcohol, but even he can get a little tipsy when enjoying a whole bottle of quality whiskey for himself.

intoxicated miguel is incredibly needy, it's adorable. he's going to be clinging to his partner, making sure his arms are wrapped around their waist and his lips never leaving their face or neck.

he's going to be so pliant, letting his partner straddle him on the couch, his hands lazily roaming around their body. the drinks and snacks on the table will soon be forgotten once miguel and his growing problem are taken care of. ❤️

cw: intoxication, dry humping, needy miguelhwhwb

an: RAHHHH i luv domestic miguel <3 if you guys want a pt 2 lmkkk

wc: 600+

You’ve always known how stressed your husband can get with his high-pressure job as spiderman 2099; always busy fighting crime and overseeing the multiverse. It can be a lot, but lucky got him you’ve decided to set up a special day each week where the two of you can unwind, relax, and enjoy each other. Today was another one of those days, and you planned a cozy evening on the couch with snacks and his favorite bottle of quality whiskey on the coffee table.

As the evening begins and Miguel returns home from work, you observe his anxiety gradually dissipating, giving way to a growing sense of excitement for the activities planned for tonight. You pour two generous glasses of whiskey before taking a seat next to him on the couch. He leans forward to pick up his glass, his eyes filled with appreciation.

“mmm, feels good to finally rest,” he sighs, taking a sip of the whiskey. He savors the warm, smooth flavor as it rolls over his tongue and it urges him to take another sip. He looks into your eyes with a soft expression. “Thanks again, tesoro.” he murmurs. You smile and lean your head against his strong shoulder. “of course, mig. i know how stressful work is for you.” you say softly, basking in his strong, comforting presence.

The whiskey flows freely as you both engage in light-hearted conversations, laughter filling the air. Miguel's high tolerance for alcohol is obvious when the two of you attend parties together, since he’s always the one taking care of you at home when you get drunk. But this time, perhaps due to the quality of the whiskey and his relaxed mind, he starts to feel a strong buzz.

You quickly catch on to how his usually composed demeanor begins to fade as the night continues on, and you get a glimpse into his vulnerable side, something you savor since you dont see it often. You were just talking about a funny anecdote that took place a few days ago and Miguel nods, seemingly listening when really he had… other things in mind. suddenly, you felt a rough hand smoothly slide around your hip, pulling you closer to him. you squeak at the soft jerk, pausing to looking up at his flushed face.

“C’mere babe,” he murmurs, patting his lap invitingly. Your eyes immediately light up, and without hesitation, you abandon the story you were telling, your head feeling slightly fuzzy from the alcohol. You carefully position yourself, spreading your legs to straddle his thick thighs, all while keeping your hand planted on his shoulder for support. His face is now just inches away from yours, and his warm breath gently caresses your neck, sending delightful shivers down your spine.

“Mm, you feel so good,” he murmurs, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. You giggle, the soft kisses he plants on the pillar of your neck tickling your skin. “Mig, stop!” you complain playfully, but your laughter slowly melts into soft moans as he wraps his lips around the delicate skin and starts sucking hickies. “you’re such a good wife, dunno what I’d do without you.” he slurs, his hands wrapped tightly around your waist and you feel your body begin to feel unbearably hot.

You plant your hands on his shoulders as you feel his hands begin to snake up your sides, thumbs brushing over the thin fabric covering your breasts. You gasp at his touch, his fingers grazing your nipples and sending electric shocks through your body. You let out a soft moan and lean in, your lips connecting with his. Indulging in a passionate, hungry kiss, the intoxicating taste of whiskey from his mouth dances upon your tongue.

You slowly begin to rut against him, your clothed pussy rubbing against his crotch. his grip on you tightens and he groans, being noticeably more vocal than usual. You whimper as you feel him twitch and harden underneath you, his hips grinding up roughly to meet your growing desperation.

“need you,” Miguel murmurs huskily, his lips coming back to reconnect to your neck, kissing and gently sucking on the now sensitive skin, drawing a low whimper from you. Tilting your head to the side, you grant him more access, running your hands through his soft brown hair.

“let me take care of you, ‘kay babe?” you say shakily, and as the night progresses, the whiskey and snacks swiftly fade from memory. <3

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #smut #miguel smut #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o hara #miguel x you #miguel o hara x reader #miguel x y/n #2099<3

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cameronspecial · 4 months

Text

The More The Merrier

Pairing: Dad!Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.8K

Summary: Christmas for Y/N and Drew is a little different for the pair since the kids were born, but that's okay.

Masterlist

Before kids, Drew and Y/N used to be able to sleep in until noon on Christmas Day. They would roll out of bed, have a light late lunch while exchanging gifts in front of the tree and then head to whoever was hosting’s house on his side of the family. Christmas Eve was reserved to celebrate with her side of the family. But since the kids came along, Christmas Day was a whole fiasco. When Millie comes barreling into the room to jump on their bed, her parents have barely gotten three hours of sleep. Between getting the presents from Santa out and taking care of Tristan, sleep didn’t get to find Y/N and Drew. “It’s Christmas! You have to wake up,” she yells, bouncing on the bed like a bouncy ball. Y/N tries to escape her child’s screams and pretends to still be asleep. Drew, a victim of insomnia, accepts the defeat and rights himself to a sitting position. Maybe he can save Y/N from the same fate. “Come on, Sweetie. How about we go eat some breakfast before we open presents? Let Mommy sleep a little more,” he suggests, noticing that it is seven in the morning. However, it doesn’t work because Tristan’s cries have Y/N instinctual getting up. She heads to the nursery, “It’s fine. Go to the living room and I’ll bring Trist.”

Drew and Millie make their way to the living room and a few minutes later, Y/N arrives with Tristan in her arms. “Can we open presents now, please?” Millie begs, scrambling off her father’s lap to the tree. Y/N shakes her head and puts Tristan on the ground beside his sister, “Millie, you know we take pictures before we open the gifts.” The excited girl lets out a huff, settling beside her brother for the picture. The kids suffer through a few pictures before they are finally allowed to open their presents.

Drew’s eyes are focused on his children until a weight appears on his shoulders. He looks down to see his wife fast asleep on him. He smiles at her and wraps his arm around her shoulder to bring her to his side. This catches Millie’s attention, so she runs over to her parents. “Is Mommy sleeping?” she whispers. Drew nods and holds his finger up to his lip. The answer seems to satisfy his daughter. She runs off to presumably go play with her new toys. Instead, she picks up her new Doc McStuffns blanket and returns to throw it onto her mother. She again leaves and then rushes to her parents to bring back one of the Christmas cookies they decorated last night. “Mommy likes cookies. It will give her energy when she wakes up,” Millie explains to her father. Drew feels as though he just drank a hot chocolate because a warmth stirs in his stomach. They are raising such a thoughtful and smart daughter.

Feeling the cookie being placed on the blanket, Y/N’s eyes widen to see what it is. She notices the time on her phone and brews up a storm of swear words. They are going to be late to Brooke’s house. She hurries her family to get ready and they head to the family gathering.

——

The tired couple placed the sleepy children in their own beds before going to their shared bedroom. They meet each other with a soft smile. “You know what we forgot to do this morning?” Y/N mumbles to her husband, leaving the room for a second to get something. She comes back with two gifts in her hands, “We forgot to open our gifts from each other.” Since they got married, Y/N and Drew agreed that they would make each other handmade gifts for Christmas. Birthday gifts can be bought, but Christmas presents have to be made. He gives her a grin, they both get changed and then sit on their bed beside each other. “You go first,” he encourages, placing his gift on her lap. Her hands carefully unwrap the small box to find a pair of dangling earrings. They both have turquoise beads, but one has an M charm and the other has a T one. “These are beautiful, Drew. Thank you,” she praises, pulling him in for a hug. “Here, open yours now.”

His is a medium-sized rectangle. Like his children, Drew takes no time in ripping the paper open. Underneath, he finds a scrapbook. There are dozens of pictures of his family and him. Each page is occupied by a small blurb about the picture taken. “Sweetheart, this is amazing. Thank you. I can take this with me when I’m away for work,” he informs, kissing her temple. She bobs her head, “That’s the idea.” Silence fills the room for a few seconds before Drew speaks up.

“Our Christmases are kinda different now with the kids.”

“Yeah. But in a better way. Which is weird to say because we got so little sleep last night.”

He chuckles with his lips pressed to her cheek, “I agree. I think it’s because the more the merrier.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @nonbullshit-toleratingkindagirl

#daddy drew #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey fic #drew starkey fluff

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yup-thats-me · 21 days

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—UNO reverse • Geto. S

pairing : Husband! Geto x wife! Reader

summary : Y/n’s prank didn’t go as planned

Y/n was bored. Bored out of her mind. Her dear husband, Geto Suguru was out on an errand from their principal. Although Y/n had wanted to go with him, he had denied saying “There’s no point in you going with me. You’ll just get tired. I’ll be back soon,” and had left with a kiss on her forehead.

Deciding she’d use her phone for a while, she sat down on the couch hoping to come across something interesting. After about fifteen minutes of scrolling through dozens of videos on the app, something finally caught her attention.

The video showed a girl, wanting to prank her boyfriend had written a letter saying how she fell out of love with the man. She had kept the letter at a pace where the man could read and she hid herself in their closet. The result was horrible. The man had read the letter and in ten minutes, he had brought another woman into the room to get intimate with. The couple ended up breaking it off.

Although the outcome was cruel, Y/n wanted to try it herself with her husband. Surely, he wouldn’t do such a thing. The worst that could happen is that he would turn the world upside down to find Y/n, at least that’s what he had said when one-day Y/n had jokingly asked him what he’d do if Y/n were to ever leave him.

So began her plan. She grabbed a piece of paper laying around and a pen and began writing a letter that would tell Geto why she left. Initially, Y/n had thought it to be an easy work. But when she grabbed the pen to write, her hands didn’t move.

She couldn’t find a single reason why she’d ever leave Geto. It wouldn’t be bragging if she said he was the perfect man alive. He’d always leave home only after he had kissed Y/n goodbye, would always call beforehand to tell her that he’d arrive home late so that she wouldn’t stay up waiting for him (she did, anyway), anytime he’d go out of town for a mission, he’d always return with a big bouquet of her favorite flowers as an apology for staying away for so long if Y/n feels under the weather for some reason, he’d take it upon him to make her smile, he would also make the meals for the entire week when she gets her period and would go lengths to keep her happy during that week. The list wouldn't end. Y/n could write and finish all the empty pages in her house but the list of why Geto was perfect, would not end.

So, with much trouble, she was at last able to put together various lame excuses of why she “was leaving Geto.” As the letter was finished, she got a text from Geto. ‘Be home in ten minutes. Want something?’ The text made her smile to herself. Quickly replying with a ‘don’t want anything. Come home soon’, she ran to their bedroom to keep the letter and hide.

She decided to keep the letter on their bedside table under the lamp to make it noticeable. She then searched for her hiding spot in the room. The closet was filled with their clothes, the curtains were too see-through, and the corner of the room wouldn’t work. She finally settled for under the bed.

She quickly crawled under the bed and lay flat, trying hard to calm herself down. She was too excited for all of this. After about seven minutes of waiting, she heard the door open.

“Y/n? Darling, I’m home!” Geto called out as he kept some bags on the kitchen counter. Judging from his footsteps, he had checked all their rooms. When he couldn’t find her anywhere, he finally entered their bedroom in hopes of seeing his wife on the bed reading yet again another book.

When he found the room to be empty, he started to panic thinking some curse had gotten her, he quickly forced himself to calm down upon seeing the letter under the lamp.

The room fell silent and Y/n could only assume it was because he was reading her letter and was in shock. What was to her shock was that she heard Geto let out a laugh and mutter. “Fucking finally.”

The next thing she heard was him talking to someone. “Hey, baby? I’ve got great news! My wife finally left! Yeah, can you believe that? Anyway, come over! Can’t wait to see you baby!” He spoke merrily and left the room.

It took Y/n a few minutes to regain herself. It was just like the video she watched. She also got cheated by Geto Suguru, the perfect man in the entire universe!

She finally composed herself as she came out of her hiding spot. Unable to control herself, she sat on the floor, her tears finally flowing free. Who would think Geto was cheating on her the Geto Suguru cheating on his wife? Who would believe that? The two Jujutsu schools all across Japan knew how devoted Geto is to his wife. He worships the ground she walks on. And that man was cheating on her behind her back. The world we live in.

After what felt like hours, the door finally opened to reveal a smiling Geto leaning against the doorframe. “UNO reverse, my love,” he mocked playfully.

“…huh?”

Smiling still, Geto pulled her to his chest caressing her hair. “Did you not understand my love? I pranked you as well”, he revealed.

“Prank? So, you didn’t cheat on me?” She asked slowly, as if scared to hear him answer in any other answer other than no.

“No, my love. How could I ever?”

Hearing him, her tears finally stopped. In a weak attempt, she tried punching Geto on his back but her hands gave up, instead wrapping them around his shoulders and hugging him closer.

Geto carried her and sat her down on the bed but she was reluctant to let him go, making her sit on his lap instead. He didn’t mind, he was rather fond of having her in his lap. When her sniffles finally stopped, she turned to him, her eyes all bloodshot and puffy from crying.

“How did you know it was a prank…?”

Geto laughed again, booping her nose. “My sunshine, in all the excitement, you forgot to conceal your legs from my view, baby. I could see your slippers peeking from under the bed.”

Her face grew red in embarrassment. At last, it was her who shot herself in the leg. Okay it was her who gave herself away, but the call was a real one.

“Okay but who did you call then?”

Before he could answer, his phone rang. The very answer himself. Picking the call, Geto let out a sigh before Gojo could speak.

“Baby? Geto did you really call me baby? My god all my fantasies are coming true! I’m gonna die!” Gojo didn’t even let Geto say anything. Y/n giggled as she heard him through the speaker.

“Geto really? Are you leaving Y/n? Oh my god!” This time though, Geto was able to answer.

“Shut up, Satoru. I’m busy showering my wife with my never-ending love and affection.” His answer made the other sad, though. “Eh? Really? What a waste…But Geto, you should think over, you know. Maybe we cou—”

Before he could finish, Y/n cut him off. “Satoru, I’m going to kill you soon!” she said so threateningly but her usual sweetness was laced too. Geto felt a shiver up his spine upon hearing her.

“OKAY! SEE YA TOMORROW, GETO!” Gojo cut himself off as he hung up.

The couple stared at each other before bursting out laughing. Composing themselves, Y/n managed to ask the last question on her mind.

“Geto? How did you know the letter was a fake?”

Geto kissed her cheek. “Because, I know you well enough to say you won’t leave because I brought the wrong shade of the lipstick, now, will you?”

Y/n mentally facepalmed. She should have put more thought into the letter honestly. “You hungry, baby? I brought Chinese. Let go.” He again carried the woman downstairs, while she kept her hold strong on his shoulder.

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frenchkisstheabyss · 9 months

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♡ the patient in 206 ♡

♡ Pairing: patient!mingi x curvy!fem!reader

♡ Summary: You always keep it professional at work but, when an attractive new patient begins to push the boundaries, you find it difficult to resist his charm.

♡ Genre: fluff/suggestive

♡ Word Count: 1.8k

♡ Warnings: reader’s short so there’s references to how tiny she is, mingi puts his face in your boobs nonsexually. they're just comfy for him, mention of blood/anesthesia

♡ A/N: This is based on an idea @urlacuna threw into my asks. I hope I did a good job interpreting what you wanted into a fic!

Red licorice, if you eat enough of it, does a hell of a job mimicking internal bleeding. That’s why the patient in 202 is here today for a colonoscopy. Just to make sure. You know this because the husband of a patient is draped over the nurse’s station while you’re doing charts, huffing and puffing because he has to be here instead of presumably lounging on a couch wiping flaky orange Cheeto dust on the arm of his recliner. This is about as sexy as a job in nursing gets but it’s what pays the bills so you listen, partially anyway, fighting off the urge to throw what’s left of your watered down iced coffee onto his face.

“Sir,” your coworker interrupts, her lack of patience for his bullshit obvious from the start, “Your wife’s asking for you. If you’ll go in and see her…” Before she can finish her sentence he’s stomping off, mumbling something to himself. She’s your favorite coworker for a reason. She takes a seat on your desk like you’re not in the middle of something. “I’d rather get two colonoscopies with no anesthesia than be married to that asshole,” she says louder than she should. You bury your face in your hands, muffled laughter escaping the spaces between your fingers, “You can’t say that!”

She crosses her legs, thumbing through a patient’s file, “Like you weren’t thinking it. Anyway, I need you to take a patient for me.” “I’m already assigned room 205,” “Now you’re not” she declares, opening the folder to face you, the face sheet glowing like an ancient text in an adventure film. You see the name Song Min Gi. The picture, oh, the picture. “Remember him?” she asks. Remember? How couldn’t you? You’d been thinking of him ever since he came in last week. Not that you’d tell her that. Not that you need to. It’s painted all over your face the same way it was when you first saw him.

Mingi came in with his best friend, Yunho you’re pretty sure his name was, to drop off some paperwork for his endoscopy. The other nurses swarmed the desk like moths to a flame, a sea of fluttering eyelashes and girlish laughter. It wasn’t often…or ever…that two tall handsome men sauntered into your job. And they weren’t just gorgeous. They were complete gentlemen, taking time to ask each of you about your day and making cute little jokes that eased some of the tension of such a high stress job.

As attractive as they both were, it was Mingi who had you wrapped around his finger from the moment he walked in. “We could climb him…” your mind whispered. The smile on his face whispered back that he might let you if you asked. “The little one” Mingi had called you, a suitable nickname with you being the shortest nurse on staff.

“I like you, little one.”

“Thank you, little one.”

“See you soon, little one.”

The timbre of his voice echoed through your chest, the aftershock still felt when you returned home that night. You’d thought of him often since then, hoping that you’d see him again. You’d even peeked at when his endoscopy was scheduled for, excited to find out that you’d be on that day. Today. But you’d forgotten. Yesterday had been so chaotic that you rushed in this morning barely knowing which planet you were on, let alone the day.

Hair a mess. Makeup nowhere to be found. Mismatched socks on. At least your sneakers were on the right feet. You slam the folder closed, “I can’t. Look at me!” “Oh, stop it” your coworker shushes, brushing your hair back, “You look beautiful. Now go! 205 needs me and Mr. Song Min Gi needs you. Go, go, go!” She has you up from your chair, rushing you off with his file in your arms, quicker than you can register what’s happening. “Have fun!” she teases, shoving you into room 206 where Mingi lounges in the bed, his long legs stretched out.

He’s already loopy, you can tell by his low eyes and the blissful smile on his face. Yunho stands beside him, deep in conversation about something that becomes irrelevant when they see you. Mingi sits up, recklessly shifting his arms as if he doesn’t have an IV jabbed into one of them, “Little one!” “Oh my god, be careful” you gasp, scurrying to his side before he accidentally rips the IV from his arm. “So, are you my nurse now or did you just come to see me?” Both. The answer is ‘both’.

You dodge the question, “It looks like she got you all set up for me so let me just go check with the doctor and see if they’re ready to take you back. In the meantime, don’t injure yourself please.” Mingi winks at you, “Anything for you.” “You’re disgusting you know that?” Yunho groans, rolling his eyes, “Sorry about him. It’s the anesthesia kicking in.” You assure Yunho that it’s fine, slipping back out of the room under the watchful eye of Mingi who waves at you like you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. When you return a few minutes later he’s already out cold.

“Be careful with him” Yunho warns, “He might try to, uh, force himself to wake up.” You aren’t worried. You’ve dealt with it before. Patients try to fight it off all the time. Eventually, they all succumb to it though. Even on the off chance that they do wake up the anesthesiologist has them drifting back off to dreamland in a millisecond. It’s almost annoying how cute Mingi manages to be, worthy of a full page spread in a magazine even in those dreadful blue tissue paper clothes they make patients wear.

Rolling him to a room not too far down the hall, you hand him over to the doctor and get back to your other duties. Checking on other patients, making sure they have their discharge papers, and shoveling some lunch into your mouth in between. You’re hiding in the office kitchen, cheeks packed with food and another fork full coming your way, when another nurse rushes in to grab you. “Y/N, room 206! He’s out of his mind!” You check your watch. Mingi? He should be out but he shouldn’t be awake yet.

No questions asked you race behind her to find his room full of nurses. Mingi’s up bouncing on the balls of his bare feet and…rapping? Your closest friend there, the matchmaker herself, scurries over to you, ushering you closer to Mingi. “We’ve been trying to get him to lay down but he won’t do it because he wants, uh, well…” “My wife!” Mingi shouts gleefully, long arms embracing you. His chin rests on the top of your head as the two of you sway back and forth. “Isn’t she cute?” he coos, petting your hair, “Mmm and she smells nice.” You pat him on the back, a mother soothing her agitated baby,

“You guys can head out. I’ve got him.” The room empties out except for Yunho who helps you seat Mingi safely on the edge of the bed, his arms still around you. Mingi sighs, resting his head on your chest, “Soft. Mmm. So soft.” He nuzzles his cheeks against your breasts and Yunho nearly chokes on air. “I’m so sorry. Mingi, stop it!” Mingi groans, shooing his best friend away, “We’re married. I can do what I want. Right, baby?” He looks up at you, his brown eyes are angelic under the fluorescent light, and you can’t bring yourself to disrupt his delusion.

“Right, you can do what you want but can you do something for me?” “Anything” he sighs, his nose buried in your cleavage as his hands traverse your curves. “Let’s lay down, okay? I’m a little tired.” You fake a yawn and he nods, easing you onto the bed with him. His face still in your chest, Mingi goes on telling you how much he loves you. He smiles at memories of how nice your honeymoon was. “It was nice, wasn’t it?” “The best.” This was far from what you expected coming in to work today but, in the back of your mind, you’re enjoying the affection, even if it is medically induced.

After a few minutes, Mingi drifts back off to sleep, giving you the chance to sneak away. The rest of the day goes on as normally as it can after something like that has happened. It’s not like you can tell anyone. You should just forget it. Maybe Mingi will. Yunho better let him. When you get the news that Mingi’s awake for a second time you beg another nurse to take him. You don’t even want to think about what might happen if he does remember and you’d rather not find out.

Thankfully she takes over, allowing you to finish out your shift uneventfully. “See you tomorrow!” you shout over your shoulder, waving to your coworkers as they filter out behind you. You turn to check that the coast is clear before crossing the parking lot only to slam face first into a brick wall. You stumble backward, and strong hands grip your arms keeping you on your feet. A brick wall? Not a brick wall. Mingi’s chest. It’s your turn to look up at him now, his cheeks are tinted a strawberry red.

“Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine. Sorry…”

“No, I’m sorry…for a lot of things apparently.”

You glance behind him and see Yunho leaning against a car nearby. You wave to each other, the context of Mingi’s apology clear. “Look, I…” “Don’t worry about it. It happens.” Mingi narrows his eyes at you, skeptical of how often this actually happens. “Okay, it doesn’t happen” you relent, “But it’s really okay. I swear.” “I’m still sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m such an idiot. Clearly, that date I was gonna ask you on is out of the window.” “Date?” you shriek, clearing your throat to regain your composure, “I mean, date? You were gonna ask me on a date?” Mingi hangs his head, hands in his pockets, unable to meet your gaze. “I was but it’d be kinda weird now, wouldn’t it?” You stand up straight, arms folded across your chest, “Well you’ve gotta ask to know, don’t you?” “Oh, uh, does that mean that you’d…would you…date…with me?” “When?” “Now?” “Now?” “No?” “Fine. Let’s go. My car” you demand, strutting to your car with some newfound boldness overtaking you.

You aren’t sure if he’s even following you until you spot him out of the corner of your eye. Clutching your purse close to your chest you try to suppress how giddy you are then the panic sets in. A date? Looking like this? Unlocking the door, you throw your purse into the backseat, “I should probably go home and change into something cuter.” “Cuter?” Mingi asks, holding the door open for you, “You’re cute enough. Plus, you don’t have to impress me anymore. We’re married, remember?”

#mingi x y/n #mingi x you #mingi x reader #mingi fluff #ateez x y/n #ateez x you #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #curvy reader #plus size reader

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