#wife!reader

[blushhbambi]

KISS IT BETTER──

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! ꣑୧ clark kent x reader mdniᝰ.ᐟ clumsy!reader, fluff, domestic fluff, established relationship, kisses, minor injury, clark goes a little over board... . ༉‧₊˚. wordcount;¹k

clark always cooks.

he likes to, and he's good at it too, doesn't let you lift a finger actually. takes pride in treating you and finding recipes you like. god, if you even try to help he's hovering over you watching you whisk or chop or stir like a goddamn hawk. clark likes to say he balances it out by letting you clean afterwards but truly he doesn't like that either, if he could he'd do everything and simply let you sit back and look pretty, perched on the kitchen counter while he works away like the sweet domestic bliss is his natural habitat.

but today was different, you finished work early and it was date night. you just wanted to treat clark for once, was that so wrong?

now you're humming to yourself, making lasagne, the most romantic meal you, sort of, knew how to make.

you're standing in the kitchen, flushed from the heat of the summer night and the sauce pans simmering on the stove while you finely chop at some vegetables in your thin, cotton pyjamas, taking glances at the recipe you scribbled down from clarks mama the other night, keeping in mind she said it was one of his favourites. you moved your hands slowly just how clark always told you to, feeling out the weight of the knife in your hand and listening closely to the rhythmic thump of the sharp tool onto the chopping board.

a proud grin graces your pretty face, this was totally easier than clark made it out to be, you assured yourself in your own head, daring yourself by speeding up your pace. you don't even hear the front door click open or the familiar thud of clark's work bag onto the wooden floor of your small apartment.

“honey…?”, his voice calls out deep, his head perking up like a puppy about to jump into action at the smell of food as he turns the corner into the kitchen.

your stomach flips at the realisation clark had arrived, still in his work suit and with a hint of exhaustion behind his eyes, you've already adorned your little domestic smile to welcome him as he strode into the kitchen.

it doesn't last very long.

your smile suddenly drops when you feel a sharp stinging sensation from the tip of your finger.

“ow— shit—”, you hiss out before clark comes to the rescue, worry dawning his face at the prick of blood blooming from the little cut.

“baby—”, he huffs out, shaking his head softly with a little tut, taking your hand softly in his and putting down the knife, even with all his worry he still managed to be as sweet as southern honey.

“what're you doing— what is all this?”

you frown softly, chewing your lip a tiny bit embarrassed now at the state of the kitchen. maybe in your little domestic dream world you didn't exactly realise the piled dishes and half burnt sauce that simmered over the pan and dribbled onto the stove.

“dinner…”, you mumble out sheepishly letting him run his thumb over your palm in little soothing circles.

“y'know how i feel about that— you just got back from work too, you should be exhausted—”, he huffs out with a gentle smile, his voice a low comforting hum close to your ear. he always read you too well, you were exhausted but you just jumped too quickly at the chance of treating clark.

“just wanted to do a little something y'know…?”, you shrug guiltily, making his lips twitch up as he nods in soft understanding.

“it's okay sweetheart, just run it under the tap while I clean up, okay?”, clarks head tilts, his eyes gleaming down at you from behind his glasses, smiling at your little pout as you nod up at him and pad towards the sink, doing as told.

as you soothe over the little cut he gets to work immediately. loosening his tie and rolling up his sleeves, showing off his smooth muscled forearms, you couldn't help but let your eyes flicker down to them as he switched off the stove and wiped down the counter moving with ease across the surfaces. you're unable to help the little laugh that escapes your throat when he sneaks a taste of the sauce with a little slurp.

clark turns around, putting his attention back on you, stepping closer and watching the blood run down the sink drain, in a swirling mix with the cool water.

“sauce was a little salty—”

you roll your eyes at his little whisper giving him a gentle push with your free hand.

“clark—”

“what—? i’m being honest…”, his voice is low and smooth as warm chocolate followed by the rubble of his laugh deep from his chest, he's so close you can smell his cologne, distracting you from the slight sting of your injury.

clark notices the grimace running over your face and the tension in your brow. his eyes flick down to the split skin of your finger, blood blooming from the little gash that tainted your skin.

“honey you gotta be more careful…”

you nod softly chewing at your lip before his big hand comes to your face, holding you so gently as his thumb rubbed gently against your cheek. his other hand reached for your injured one pulling it close to his face, feigning a serious look as he huffs.

“we might have to amputate it—”

“really—?”, you laugh softly playing along.

“oh, i’m dead serious.”, even with his furrowed brow he couldn't help but break out a smile, his lips twitching up into amusement with yours.

“if you're gonna play doctor why don't you just kiss it better instead?”

clark perks up at this, his thumb running along the cut softly as he nods all too quickly, practically giddy at the thought of kissing his own girlfriend.

“yes ma'am—” he hums out with that boyish southern lilt slipping in.

you flush warm as he presses his lips against the gash, blinking down at you as he stilled there a second, like he was actually kissing it better, like he could actually take away even the tiniest amount of pain inflicted upon you.

“better?”, he hums against your skin, making you a little dizzy.

“hmm— i dunno baby, still stings...”, you tease sweetly, earning a squeeze of his big hands.

“guess I gotta keep tryin’—”

he pressed another kiss to your skin, followed by another to your wrist and another and another till he was working his way up your arm. all you could do was stand there watching him lose himself in his affection.

“y'taste sweet baby—”, clark murmurs into you all distracted, breathing you in

eventually you've been tugged close, your chest pressed flush against his in the quiet dim kitchen, with only the buzzing light and clarks’ heavy breaths as he nudged his face into the crook of your neck, rubbing his nose into your soft skin whilst he placed soft fluttery kisses wherever he could reach, smiling as you squirm slightly and giggle with your arms wrapped over his hunched shoulders.

“think im better now clark—”

“nah uh— can't be certain ‘bout it sweetheart—”, he hums between kisses leading up to your face and across your jaw as he picks you up with ease, wrapping your legs around his waist. clarks’ mouth lands on yours, with a slight desperate need, he nips at your lips letting his tongue run across the seam.

“maybe we should do a proper examination…?”

© written by blushhbambi— do not steal or claim as ur own ᝰ.ᐟ

[qatarsprint2023]

Everything that matters— Noel Gallagher

Coming back from a trip to the shop to a very sweet dad!Noel and your daughter.

1.2k words 2000s/dilf!NG x wife!reader (ft. Anaïs)

a/n: this came out a bit different and longer than my original idea, but I think I like it nonetheless. pure fluff btw!

It was raining. Again.

This bloody October weather was starting to get on your nerves. You'd just popped out to do a little shopping at the corner shop two streets away, opting to walk because ever since Anaïs had been born you didn’t get much time alone outside, and then it had started raining halfway through your walk home!

The palm of your hand pressed against the white front door of the Belsize Park home as you balanced two paper bags in the crook of your left arm while fumbling for the key in your purse with the right. Damp strands of your hair clung to your cheeks and the corduroy jacket you'd put on instead of your ugly winter parka was soaked from the shoulders down.

You shoved the key in the lock, a soft feeling bubbling up inside of you at the familiar clicking sound it made when the lock sprung open.

When you cracked the door open, the sound of a tiny voice floated through the hallway. It wasn't quite words, just that brilliant nonsense baby talk that made no real sense but somehow said everything.

"…cat go 'Baaaahhh!' an', an', an'... I 'No, no, no, cat!' , and then… and then…"

You leaned your head against the doorway as you stepped inside after having kicked off your shoes and just watched your two favourite people for a few minutes.

There, sat cross-legged right on the hardwood floor in the hallway like he had no idea he was one of the most well-known musicians in the world right now, was Noel. His hair was a touch longer and messier than usual, the result of most of his time recently being spent in the studio for Oasis' 5th album and away from tabloid photographers.

He looked like he hadn't moved since you left that morning and in his lap, in a pink cotton onesie and the tiniest socks in the world, was Anaïs.

Your Anaïs, all 19 months of her, babbling away with her curious eyes fixed on her father's face, hands waving her favourite stuffie as she babbled some wild tale about a cat, and what sounded suspiciously like cheese, one of her favourite foods recently.

"And what did the cat say after that?" your husband asked, voice soft as he listened to his child talk nonsense that seemed to be the most important thing in her little world at the moment.

"BaaaAAHHH!"

"Give over!" he gasped, leaning back like she’d just revealed a huge government conspiracy. "You're havin' me on. The cat really said that? This cat?"

He poked his index finger at the cat stuffie in Anaïs' hands. She in turn simply nodded, her eyes huge and serious.

"Well," Noel sighed, gently patting her legs and glancing toward the ceiling, like he was contemplating something truly profound. "That's mental, that is."

You stood there for a second longer, fingers tightening around the paper bags in your arms as your heart just... melted. It was one of those moments where time slowed, and everything outside your little domestic bubble of peace didn’t matter.

Not Noel's band, not the media, not the fights with Liam or gigs or even the rain that had soaked you to the bone. Just the soft glow of the autumn sun that had come out from behind the dark clouds again and was now shining brightly enough to let a soft stream of light fall in through the hallway window, Anaïs' animated voice, and the look on those softened features of Noel's... those things mattered.

You stepped closer quietly, wanting to get past them and to the kitchen without disturbing your family, but Noel turned his head, and his face split into that cheeky grin you'd fallen for way back when you were just teenagers sneaking into pubs and pretending to be older than you were.

"Hey there," he said, pushing his hair out of his forehead. "Didn't hear you come in, love."

"Obviously," you chuckled, setting the bags down and shrugging off your wet jacket. "Too busy with storytime."

The toddler squealed when her eyes fell onto her mum and scrambled off Noel's lap, crawling at lightning speed across the floor. You knelt down with a light sigh and scooped her up, pressing a kiss to your daughter's soft curls.

Noel got up to his feet with a tired groan like his knees were eighty years old instead of 34 and walked over toward you, an arm looping around your waist before he leaned in to kiss your cheek. "Nothin' wrong with that. Top storyteller that one."

You let yourself sink into him for a second, soaking in the warmth of his jumper and the faint smell of fags and baby lotion. That weirdly comforting combo you now associated with home.

It still blew your mind sometimes—this life. You and Noel. Married. Parents... Everything shifted after giving birth but somehow it also all fell into place. Noel hadn't been sure at first— proper nervous, he was, going on about how he’d never even held a baby before, but from the second Anaïs was placed into his arms at St Mary's, he’d been completely wrecked by her.

And now, watching him crouch down to help your child grab her stuffed animal off the floor, you felt like your heart could burst.

"You okay? You're drenched," Noel remarked, standing again and brushing a hand over your damp hair.

"Yeah, got surprised on the way back from the shop. But that's this time of year for you, no?" you hummed in reply as Anaïs snuggled into your chest with a soft sigh.

Noel let out a laugh at the truth of that statement and nodded. "C'mon, get changed, you, I'll make you a brew. You want summat sweet? There's still those biscuits your mam brought over."

You nodded as a grin stretched across your features, handing her off to him gently. "I'll be five minutes."

Upstairs, peeling off your wet clothes, you caught you reflection in the mirror on the closet door. Your face looked tired, yeah, but you also somehow looked happier than you had at any other point in the past 10 years. When you smiled, your eyes still crinkled in the same way they had when you'd been a child yourself, and lately you'd smiled a lot more, especially with Anaïs toddling around, babbling about everything even remotely important to her.

Back downstairs you found Noel in the kitchen, toddler on one arm, pouring milk into a mug with the other. Anaïs was jabbering on about the cat again, her hand in his hair, tiny fingers tugging it this way and that.

You leaned in the doorway and bit your lip, holding back a laugh.

All members of your little family eventually ended up on the couch in the afternoon, the three of you tangled together in a heap of limbs and blankets. The little one dozed off eventually, mid-ramble, her tiny hand curled around your shirt collar.

Your head rested on your husband's shoulder, tea gone cold on the coffee table. The rain pattered against the windows again, the city outside a grey blur. But in here, it was warm, quiet and safe.

"I ever tell you," Noel spoke up softly after a long while of just breathing, brushing your hair back, "you're the best thing that ever happened to me?"

"Only every other day."

A smile stretched across Noel's features and he leaned in to kiss you, slow and soft as your child snored against you.

"Good. Just makin' sure you remember..."

[lucylockets]

The Bat is in love! … with Mrs. Wayne?

summary: in which the Justice League notice that Batman is infatuated with Bruce Wayne’s wife, and need to help him get over her (impossible)

pairing: husband!bruce wayne/batman x wife!reader

warnings: none? maybe mentions of slight violence. fluff.

a/n: inspired by this fic by @ilianasbruce

dividers by: @saradika-graphics and @cafekitsune

it started when batman and superman were at the watchtower together.

they were doing their own work silently, at opposite ends of the table.

superman was pretending that he wasn’t secretly writing an article for the daily planet that was due within the week (that he had completely forgotten about), and batman was pretending that he wasn’t secretly texting his wife under the table.

bruce: how is the opera, my love? i’m sorry i couldn’t be there, the league has demands.

a lie. he just had a headache earlier and felt like jumping out of a window at the thought of having to put on a smile for the folk and sit through an opera. he did feel guilty about you being on your own, though.

you: it’s alright. i actually know some people here, and they aren’t all bad, bruce.

bruce: you say that now, but wait until they each give you a rundown on each car in their garage.

you: like how you give me a rundown on each gadget you come up with in the batcave?

bruce: that’s different.

you: of course it is. i actually like listening to you.

the familiar ‘ping!’ of one of batman’s gadgets interrupted the silence.

superman looked up, eager to be doing something other than whatever paper in front of him that he wasn’t even focusing on.

“what is that?” his words came out immediately, and before batman could answer, he was speaking again. “robbery? alien invasion?”

“Poison Ivy in Gotham.” Batman is already standing, beginning his exit of the watchtower. Superman follows him.

“Can I come? Please?”

Batman turns, looking at him. “What?”

“It’s boring in here!” Superman gestures around. “And if I’m on my own it’ll be even more boring. C’mon, Batman, I can help you.”

Batman considers it for a moment before sighing. “Fine. But we’re going in the Batmobile.”

“But I can-“

“You are not flying me there, Superman.”

A few minutes later, they’re in the opera hall. Ivy seems to have taken over the stage, giving a speech on ways for the average person to decrease their carbon footprint.

Batman can see a few different people caught between her weeds. Long, thick plants have people in their grip. He scans the room quickly for you, breathing a silent sigh of relief when he sees that you are not captured, but instead just huddled in the corner with a group of others.

Superman doesn’t notice the way that Batman isn’t looking at Ivy, and begins his attack. Batman quickly follows. After a swift battle (turns out having Superman as an ally cuts down on battle time), Ivy is restrained and authorities arrive. The two start on recovering civilians before they both encounter you.

You’re comforting one of the women that was tangled in the weeds. You’re sitting beside her, nodding as she talked. You recognise the familiar pair of boots coming from the side of you. Your head lifts up slightly as you catch sight of the two men.

“Are you alright, Mrs. Wayne?” Superman speaks first, the familiar concern he has for everyone clear in his voice and expression. He recognises you from articles, and he’s heard enough from Cat Grant at the Daily Planet to know you’re married to Bruce Wayne.

“Yes, I’m fine,” you answer with a small smile. Your eyes move to Batman. “Thank you.”

Superman gives Batman a side glance as he hears Batmans heart skip a beat when you smile at him. He tries to not to make his suspicion obvious. However, he turns a little when he hears that Batmans heartbeat is now quicker than it had been five minutes ago.

However, nothing on Batmans mostly covered face gave away any feelings. He just nodded and said a quick: “Stay safe, ma’am.”

And Superman didn’t bring it up again. Perhaps it was just a coincidence. A heart skip doesn’t always mean feelings of infatuation, right?

The second time is with Flash and Green Lantern.

Batman is a stark contrast to the pair. Barry and Hal are close friends, and joke around when put together. Bruce will sigh, and tell them to be quiet, and then Barry tries to be serious, but Hal will mutter a sarcastic comment that makes him start laughing again and the cycle repeats.

So Batman is already tense from working with the two.

They’re investigating a case together, and encounter you somehow. (sorry that’s so vague i literally cannot think of a specific scenario here to save my life)

Flash asks you a few questions if you’ve seen or heard anything suspicious, and you shake your head and answer. Barry notices Batmans shoulders softening a little beside him.

It isn’t hugely noticeable, but Barry senses it. Batmans shoulders loose some of their tension as he talks to you, this civilian. And when Hal opens his mouth to make an implying comment, he tenses right back up again.

Barry’s eyes narrow. It isn’t often that the Bat actually feels emotions, so when he does, his friends take an interest.

On the way back, Barry nudges Hal.

“Hey, you notice the way Bats was acting around that woman earlier?” He whispers so the third man in front of them doesn’t hear.

“You mean that really hot one? Who wouldn’t act like that around her? Did you see her, Bar?”

Barry gives him a look, “yeah, but this is Batman. Brooding, stays-in-the-shadows, feels-nothing-but-rage-24/7, Batman.”

Hal ponders before shrugging. “I don’t know, maybe Spooky’s changed. Never underestimate the power of a beautiful woman, Barry.”

Barry thinks. “She looked kinda familiar, didn’t she? I can’t think of where I’ve seen her before.”

And when they see that the familiar face they were talking to was Bruce Wayne’s wife, they give each other an alarmed look before looking at Batman from across the room.

The third time was with Oliver goddamn Queen.

A charity gala. Bruce couldn’t go because he had intel that Scarecrow was planning on infiltrating the building while everyone was distracted, something about wanting to ‘test out a new gas’, and he had to be on watch as Batman for the evening.

You, however, decided to go. You had a nice dress and were getting close to some of the women there your age. It was nice to not be a total stranger in the room anymore.

So, as you filtered around the room, you met Oliver Queen. He sometimes teases Bruce on purpose by asking for a dance with you at other galas, but without Bruce he was simply a friend to enjoy a chat with.

When Scarecrow did burst in, you actually had been dancing with Oliver. A friendly turn around the room like the others were doing. By the time Batman had taken him down, and everyone emerged from the corners or hidden rooms, Oliver checked to see if you were okay. Lord knows Bruce would probably blame him if anything happened to you.

You were fine, thank God. Oliver’s sentence was interrupted by the Bat himself.

“Was anybody harmed?” the gruff voice asked, his gaze trying not to linger on you for too long.

“I don’t think so,” you replied. Oliver looked at Batman with a certain questioning that nobody seemed to notice.

“Good.” Batman was silent for a moment before speaking again. “Perhaps you all should start making your ways home. Scarecrow might return, or someone worse.”

You don’t miss a beat. “It’s a good thing we have someone like you to protect us, Batman.”

“Only a fool wouldn’t protect you, ma’am.”

Oliver blinked. Is Batman . . . flirting? With a married woman? Also, was that sentence a sneaky diss on him?

and Oliver could’ve sworn on his entire fortune that Batman’s lips were almost in a grin during his next sentence.

“Your husband is probably waiting on you, Mrs. Wayne.”

Oliver raised his eyebrows at your response. You laughed a little under your breath before speaking, “probably. I wouldn’t want to keep him up.”

Oliver looks between you and Batman. Perhaps he’s imagining things. You turn to him as if you’ve just remembered that he’s still there.

“Oliver, you have a safe way home, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll call my driver.”

He doesn’t bring it up the next time he sees Batman as Green Arrow. Batman doesn’t speak of it either. But his eyes narrow a little at the Bats whenever Bruce Wayne or his wife is mentioned.

Eventually, it comes up in conversation when Batman isn’t there.

They’re in the common room, and Diana is flipping through the newspaper. She’s on a page that features a picture of you at the latest event with a description of your outfit beside it. Beside her, Hal recognises you.

“Hey, Flash,” he begins, stabbing the page with his finger. “Isn’t that who we were talking to a couple days earlier?”

Barry is behind the couch in a second, nodding. “Yeah, we asked her a couple questions with Batman.” He looks up a takes a quick glance to see if anyone’s expression changes. “He seemed . . . different around her.”

Clark closes the book in his hand with a loud snap, looking at the three on the couch.

“You’ve noticed too?”

Hal laughs, “that Bats has the hots for a married woman? Yeah.”

Diana frowns a little. “That is unlike Batman. He’s known for his self-restraint. It doesn’t seem likely he would harbour a liking for someone else’s wife, especially Bruce Wayne’s. Doesn’t Wayne sponsor him or something?”

Oliver joins in. “Wonder Woman, you haven’t seen him with her. I mean, it was only a few seconds but he was a totally different person.”

“How so?” Diana asked curiously.

“He . . . relaxed a little.”

She raised her eyebrows. Barry cut in.

“Wonder, you need to see it to understand it. It’s like no one else even enters his mind when he’s looking at her. I think everything else sorta faded away, you know?”

“Like in those rom-coms I’ve been shown?” She suggests.

“Yeah!”

Clark thinks for a moment, wondering what to do to help his obviously hopeless friend. How do you break the news to an emotionally constipated Bat that he has to squash his feelings before anything terrible happens?

So, they organise an intervention. A very unorganised organised intervention.

Your name gets mentioned during a briefing. About how you could be potential target for a kidnapping due to your status.

Hal’s mouth works quicker than his mind.

“What about Bruce Wayne?”

“What about Bruce Wayne?” Batman asks in his low voice, his back still turned to the team.

“Just saying, he’s probably a potential target too, right?” Green Lantern points out. “He’s her husband, after all.”

Batman turns. They all seem to be looking for his reaction.

“Right, I was just getting to that.” He says stiffly. “So I think until Joker is tracked down again, a pair of eyes should be on them. Since Gotham is my city, I can-“

“Ohhhh, hold on,” Flash says, leaning forward. “Central City has been very quiet lately, so I’m free too.”

Wonder Woman joins in. “I’m interested too. I think the more people, the quicker we could get this done.”

Batman blinks. “Why the sudden interest in Gotham from you two?”

They both shrug, mumbling incoherent words that overlap each other. Something about “new environments” and “change of pace”.

Green Arrow smirks. “I wouldn’t mind accompanying. (Name) and her husband should get all the protection they can get.”

Batman isn’t showing it, but he’s confused. Less members have volunteered themselves for prison breaks. Why are three other members wanting to go to Gotham for an unconfirmed threat? And why do they keep looking at him like that?

“Yes,” Superman clears his throat. “Mrs (Name) is a kind woman who shouldn’t be in danger. And Bruce Wayne is similar in nature. He is valuable to Gotham City.”

Batman prepared his disliking-Bruce-Wayne act with practised ease. “Bruce Wayne is a spoiled idiot.”

“Of course you think that.” Green Lantern mutters with a smug smirk. Flash nudges him.

“What do you mean?” Batman asks, and Hal practically explodes.

“We know you’re attracted to (Name) Wayne!” He says, making Barry cover his eyes with his hands. Not how the conversation was supposed to go.

“Excuse me?” Batman is -frankly- appalled. Hal grimaces, instantly reminded of who exactly he’s talking to.

“You’re, uh . . .” he splutters before quickly mumbling, “you’re in love with (name).” He gains some of his confidence, and straightens up again, “and you were about to let Bruce Wayne get kidnapped, so you could swoop in and seduce her!” He tops it all off with hand gestures of the supposed ‘swooping’.

Batmans gaze sweeps the table. Nobody meets his eye except Diana, who just seems to be staring at him for his response. A few of them have to stop themselves from laughing at the idea of Batman ‘seducing’ someone.

“And what exactly gave you that idea?”

Barry is filled with a newfound confidence. “Oh, c’mon Bats, a blind man would see how you act around her!” He smirked a little. “You went a little . . . soft.”

Green Arrow snorts. ��Sometimes I think you’re only protecting Gotham because she’s in it.”

Batman thinks. Has he been that transparent? He’s always careful about his expressions and body reactions. Maybe he is getting soft. He obviously didn’t take enough care.

A fleeting image passes his mind, where he declares his love for you to the team. How could he not show you off? He would love to tell them that you were with him.

But, of course, he doesn’t do that. He just blinks.

“I am not in love with (name), that’s ridiculous.” He scoffs. “Number one, I don’t fall in love with anyone. Number two, she’s married, so I think that means she’s out of the dating pool.”

Not one face looking back at him looks convinced.

However, a cold stare and a swift change of topic ensured that nobody tries to start the conversation again.

They do, however, take a bigger interest in Gotham nowadays. Whenever a mission includes you somehow, there’s always one of them volunteering to go. They all think that distance will make sure Batman goes back to his cold and steely ways of not having a crush on anyone’s wife.

Bruce crawls under the covers with a small groan, shuffling next to you. His arms go around your warm body as he rests his face near yours. He’s desperate to soak up your warmth after being out in the cold all night.

“Long night?” you ask, your voice still quiet from sleep.

“Long day,” he responds, tucking himself into you. You keep your arms around him. “The League accused Batman of being attracted to Bruce Wayne’s wife today.”

It takes you a moment to realise what he’s talking about. You breathe out a laugh. “Is Batman not in love with me?”

Bruce grins against your skin. “He might be.” He murmurs. “Just a little, though.”

You raise your eyebrows, turning to look at Bruce. “Does Batman know I’m married? And that I’m very loyal to my husband?”

“Oh, yes,” he responded, and sits up a little. he pressed his forehead to yours. “and Batman knows that there’s nobody else on this earth that loves you more than I do.”

You smile, your fingers in his hair now. he leans closer to press his lips to yours, an action that you return. Bruce keeps himself against you for a long time. He likes falling asleep with you in his arms. He likes feeling like the protector.

It’s why he needs to sleep on the side of the bed closest to the door. It’s why he needs to know where you are each night. It’s why he needs to know you’re safe. And if your safety comes along with each League member giving him looks because they think he’s harbouring a crush for another man’s wife, then so be it.

He’d do anything for you, anyway. 

[knowledgeableknitter]

Omg, YES! Do it and tell me all about it! 🤣💕

Emotionally. Physically. Frequently.

A new fic-let. Last weekend, we saw Bucky shut down a man who was after you. Now it's your turn to shut down a woman after your husband.

Pairing: Congressman! Bucky Barnes x you (plus sized/curvy wife! reader)

Word Count: <1000

Summary: You defend your place next to your husband while at a rooftop event. Congressman Barnes likes it.

Trigger Warnings: You shutting down an impudent strumpet.

Author’s Note: This is Part 1. Part 2 tomorrow, but both can be read as stand alone.

Masterlist

The rooftop terrace glittered beneath soft string lights strung between marble columns, D.C.’s skyline glowing in the distance. Laughter floated through the air like perfume, blending with the clinking of glasses and the muted strains of a string quartet playing something elegant, forgettable.

You didn’t care about any of it.

Your husband stood in front of you, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other resting on your hip, its natural place. His navy suit was custom-fit, tie loosened just slightly, hair pushed back with just enough intentional mess to drive you wild. His focus hadn’t drifted from you all evening.

You were laughing at something he’d murmured under his breath, brushing your fingers against his lapel, your cocktail dress hugging you in all the ways it was designed to.

You had Bucky Barnes’s full attention. That meant everything else faded into the background.

Until she appeared.

Sleek, blonde, and professionally charming, she was one of those “strategic networkers” who made a career of being seen with powerful men and acting like the women next to them didn’t exist. She swept toward Bucky like she had every right, her voice lilting and just a little too loud.

“Oh, Congressman Barnes,” she purred, her hand lightly touching his forearm. “I’ve been dying to catch you tonight.”

You didn’t move. Just blinked, bored, and took another sip of your drink.

Bucky didn’t turn toward her. Didn’t even blink. His eyes stayed locked on you.

That only seemed to embolden her.

She laughed softly. “And here I thought you’d be surrounded. I should’ve gotten to you earlier.”

Still, he said nothing. And still, his gaze stayed on you, jaw tight, lips pressed into the ghost of a smile.

“I imagine it must be hard,” she said, glancing between you with all the subtlety of a blunt knife. “Keeping his attention, I mean. A man like him…” She let the words trail off, suggestive and dripping.

You let the silence hang for just a moment longer, long enough to give her the rope.

Then you stepped forward, slow and easy, slipping your hand over Bucky’s chest as you turned fully toward her. His hand dropped from his pocket to rest gently against the curve of your hip, fingers flexing once, like he was grounding himself.

You smiled, and not warmly.

“He’s taken,” you said softly. “Fully. Emotionally. Physically. Frequently.”

Her lips parted, just slightly.

You didn’t give her the chance to speak.

“You must be used to men who forget what they have. Can’t relate.”

She froze, blinking twice before recovering with a weak laugh. “I didn’t mean—of course, I didn’t mean—”

You tilted your head, still smiling. “Didn’t you?”

Bucky’s fingers slid just slightly along the fabric of your dress, both possessive and devoted. His jaw was tight now with restraint. He still hadn’t looked at her even once. His entire world was wrapped around the sound of your voice and the shape of your silhouette beside him.

The woman excused herself a moment later, muttering something that could’ve been an apology, or just the word “sorry” stuffed into a shoe and dragged out of her mouth like it hurt.

She walked away fast.

You didn’t look after her. You turned back to Bucky and raised your glass, brushing your lips over the rim like nothing had happened.

His eyes were dark, heavy-lidded, and a little stunned. The man was entirely yours.

“You say things like that,” he murmured, voice low and raw, “and expect me to keep my hands to myself?”

You shrugged one shoulder, pretending to sip. “That was me being tactful.”

He leaned in, brushing his lips over your jaw without touching your skin. “My beautiful menace,” he whispered.

You smiled. “You love it.”

His hand tightened briefly at your waist, then settled again, a deep, slow breath pushing through his chest.

“How many more do you think I’ll have to fend off tonight?” you murmured.

He chuckled, low and soft. “Hard to say. You’d think they’d learn.”

You took another sip and tilted your head toward him. “Some people never do.”

“They will eventually,” he said. “Probably once your reputation rivals mine.” 

That earned a real laugh out of you. 

He leaned close, lips brushing your ear. “I like this side of you.”

You arched a brow. “Which one?”

“The one that shuts it all down with one sentence. And then walks away like she didn’t just ruin a woman’s entire fantasy life.”

You smirked. “That wasn’t her fantasy. That was delusion.”

His lips twitched. “Well, it died a quick death.”

He looked at you then like you were the only thing worth worshipping on this rooftop. Not the lights, not the skyline, not the city or his career. Just you.

“So,” he groaned, quiet but wrecked., “how fast do you think can we leave without making a scene?”

You stepped a little closer, lips barely grazing the curve of his jaw. “We could try in ten minutes,” you replied, already walking your fingers down the length of his tie. “I want dessert first.”

His breath caught. Then he exhaled your name like a prayer.

“You are my dessert.”

Tag list: @lovely-seb @calwitch @its-in-the-woods @ficmeiguess @yesiamthatwierd

[hanasnx]

“ I WAS MADE FOR LOVIN’ YOU ” — logan howlett.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ WARNINGS: fem reader ノ age gap ノ established relationship ノ size difference ノ suggestive content ノ sexual content: naughty daydreams about pussy eating, nipple play, and groping; masturbation; voyeurism.

“I’m gonna take care of you.” Those six words—six—have defined your relationship with your husband, LOGAN HOWLETT. There’s a great protector in him, this compulsion to mentor and house within him that stretches far beyond his own needs. You fall within that range, and as soon as you met him you latched onto him. It didn’t take long at all before your imprint was reciprocated. Now he thinks of you first in everything he does.

He may not always look it, but you’re a factor in all his decisions. Settling down, nabbing a good job—one that didn’t ask for his background—was all to put you up in a house in the mountains. Far away from civilization, an ivory tower made up of wood he cut himself, surrounded by acres of nature. He’s always thought of himself a hair on the wild side, somehow you tame that down. It’s good, he tells himself, you and him.

It’s a partnership, and all he wants out of you is your safety. He likes you where he can keep an eye on you, make sure you stay out of trouble, make sure you’re comfortable.

You wish you could explain just why he thinks he has to protect you, why he married you, why he pays all the bills and expects nothing in return. You wish you could explain just why this relationship comprises all facets of a real marriage except for intimacy.

Logan won’t touch you. You’ll eat off each other’s utensils, fall asleep on his chest on the couch watching a movie—hell, he’ll reluctantly incline in your direction with a roll of his eyes to let you peck his cheek good-bye when he leaves for work. Yet, he won’t even kiss you. Even before he married you, there wasn’t so much as a grope or a stray look.

There’s home in Logan. You live to please him. You’ll cook him whatever he wants, keep the house he built for you clean as a whistle, you’ll spend all your free time with him, grab him his nightly beer and light his cigar so he stays content—but you’ve never even seen him naked. You doubt you ever will. Regardless, you stay, you can’t imagine leaving this life, leaving him.

It’s defied your expectations the fairy-tales of your childhood gave you. Your knight in shining armor rescued you, yet refuses to plant even true love’s kiss. When you’d matured, you’d fantasized about an insatiable husband that found you so irresistible he couldn’t keep his hands off you. Logan’s never looked at you that way, even though he calls you his wife without hesitation, married you without a second thought.

“Is it because I’m younger than you? I’m only in my early twenties. That’s not a big deal!” you’ve reasoned with him, but he still treats you like you’re naive. He must want passion, you’re sure of that. Why else are you young and beautiful if not to take advantage of it while you still can? Just once you’d like to see him yearn for you, to show lack of restraint, to come home one day so hungry for you that you don’t make it out of the kitchen.

Those claws… those deadly metal claws… you wish he’d use them in fantastical and deviant ways. Just one would glide through your nighty like sheet paper, bareing you to your husband—a sight for him only. You lie awake next to him at night, envisioning raunchy dreams of him proudly boasting the size difference between you two, demonstrating his sheer raw strength by overpowering you and taking what he wants from you. You’ve run your fingers delicately over his lips and the rough pad of his shaved chin, but you can’t imagine just how good it’d feel against your tit, swirling his hot tongue around your perked nipple while his callused digits pinch the other. You can pretend his head is ducking between your thighs, the sensation of his soft hair tickling your skin and tangling in your fingers as his masculine jaw scratches the fragile tissue of your pussy. As starved as you are, even discomfort like that is enough to make you moan into your palm, only to check over your shoulder to make sure you still hear your husband’s snoring.

You steel yourself at the noise, the low rumbling of his sleep cautions you to stay quiet but to proceed nonetheless. Your hand creeps down your neck, your chest, your stomach… You really should leave the room, but you’d risk waking him up for real at the sound of the door. Instead, you fuck yourself yet again, the soft rocking of the mattress as you hump your own hand filling the ears of your kindhearted husband—who’s been awake this whole time.

[heyysteven]

Playing Dangerous

Pairings: Hwang In Ho x Wife!reader

Summary: Mr. Hwang does not like it when his wife ignores him. He decides to show what happens when you upset him.

Warnings: Smut (18+) mdni, Yandere behavior, In ho is obsessive and controlling, dub con, public sex, breast play, mentions of captivity and stalking, a bunch of rich assholes.

Take the driver with you.

Did you reach yet?

I'm waiting for your answer.

Swirling the glistening champagne in your claw you leaned into the conversation, feigning interest into whatever story was being told. Mr. Richie, the President of a luxury brand of perfumes was bragging about his most recent visit to Luxembourg; how he surprised his wife by renting one of the castles for the week and how much money he burned through to make her happy.

He stood surrounded by some of the most powerful and elite people in the country as he drawled on and on about his stay. Bit overkill with how much money he spent for your taste but you were used to it by now.

From rare antiques to color vomits on canvases, these were awfully boring people who always talked about the same few conceited experiences. But you indulged in their conversations. You had to appease to them after all.

You had to play the perfect wife.

Nodding your head you smiled, as if you hadn’t zoned his story out completely. It was easier attending events alone. No one paid much attention to you without the loaded man beside you. You prayed that no one asked about why your husband was missing because frankly you didn’t have an answer.

As if sensing your thoughts Mrs. Richie asked, “Will Mr. Hwang not be joining us tonight?” interrupting her husband’s museum story.

“Oh yeah, I’m afraid he won’t be able to make it. He has so busy these days with meetings and that big launch coming up.” You replied.

They raised their heads oh in understanding. In truth, there was no launch. You just lied so they wouldn’t pry too much.

Mrs. Richie clutched her pearls, “That makes me so upset! He has such a strong aura around him, always brightens up the room with his presence.” She talked as if his absence was her personal loss. As if another moment without him would cause her to wither in physical pain.

In hindsight it should have really bothered you. Hearing another woman yearn for your husband should have had you pulling her hair and throwing her to the ground. But your relationship with Mr. Hwang wasn’t like that. It was all only for show; a signed inconvenient obligation. You two didn’t even looked at each other unless there was someone watching.

 “Yes, it is quite upsetting.” You said with the most heartbroken smile you could muster. ”But sometimes you have to sacrifice time-”

As you spoke a shiver ran down your spine. Your heart started beating faster as a knot formed in your stomach. It was as if your body was warning you.

You could feel his presence even before you could see him.

Every single person in the room had turned their heads towards the entrance. His black polished shoes clicked as silence fell around.

Mr. Hwang was the kind of man who commanded unwavering attention. It was impossible to ignore him. Not when he walked with a sense of ownership. As if every living and breathing thing belonged to him.

He was the kind of man who could will mountains to move on their own; the kind of man who could make a ballroom like this feel like a cramped elevator. Dressed in his signature black look he walked in with a sense of control. Every stride oozed power.

Alarm bells started ringing in your head as he walked towards you.

“Oh look he is here!” Mrs. Richie exclaimed. She looked seconds away from rolling her tongue out for him to walk on.

Color threatened to drain from your face as he slipped his long cold fingers around your waist and placed himself beside you. His touches always made you nervous, no matter the months you’ve spent with him. The haunting scent of his strong cologne filled your senses as his towering body pressed into your side like this was the most natural thing in the world.

You dragged out a surprised smile as he bent down to place a lingering kiss your cheek.

“You’re here.” You said finally, a ghost of a whisper.

He tilted his head to look into your eyes and smiled back at you. “When your wife doesn’t respond to your texts, you just have to come find her, am I right folks?” He turned to the group as they all threw their heads back in roaring laughter. It was kind of pathetic how much they seemed to want his approval.

Your eyes widened as you realized your mistake. You acted to feel around for your phone and said, “Really? I don’t remember checking my phone. I must have missed them.”

He just continued to stare down at you with a frown, “You know how worried I get. Should have just gotten you the phone with an inbuilt tracker” he said with a chuckle and people laughed again. But you both knew he wasn’t kidding. Anything this man couldn’t control drove him crazy.

You playfully patted his cheek and laughed. “He is so silly sometimes.”

He simply pulled you closer and squeezed you in his embrace, “I just want my wife to be protected that is all”. People took that as a hint to slowly start dispersing. When the last person left you tried to move away from him but he held still. “Don’t. They’re still watching.”

“Why are you here?” You asked with an accusatory tone.

He didn’t bother answering that. Instead he asked, “Why did you ignore my messages?”

So that’s why he came. The minute you refused to play along like his little doll he had to show up.

Fidgeting with the strap of your watch you replied, “I was preoccupied.”

“Were you avoiding me Mrs. Hwang?” His voice dangerously calm as he drawled on the possibility. He knew how much you hated it when he called you that. It felt derogatory. It was a reminder that you were just another one of his little slaves who had given into his power.

When you stayed silent, he leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Next time, I will hunt you down and drag you out by your hair if I have to.”

“Just be very careful with your actions love.” he kissed your shoulder and left towards to bar.

To everybody else he was the perfect husband; the one who showered you with jewels and admiration. Who blindly bought you everything you touched. Your brain itched every time they would congratulate you and tell you how much you lucked out.

How you wished it was true.

The tap water trickled as you stood counting the droplets one by one. You had excused yourself to the restroom, thinking a few silent moments would help you find the energy to go back and attend the event with your husband. But the more time you spent here, the more this little bathroom started to feel like your refuge.

Just five more minutes and then we go, you thought for the 8th time.

The door slowly swung open.

“Occupied!” you called out. But the intruder continued in. You turned around to tell off whoever entered but stopped when you saw those black polished shoe.

Your heart started hammering as his shadow came into full view. He invited himself inside and locked the door in one quick click.

With each step he took forward, you took one back; moving back till you felt the cold ceramic sink hit your back. The look in his eyes was animalistic. You felt caught. Like one wrong move and you’d be engulfed in a huge trapping net.

“So you are ignoring me I see.” Mr. Hwang concluded.

“I just feel a little tired from all this.”

He scoffed, “Do you find pleasure in defying me?”

You looked around at everything but his face. You were afraid of what you might find if you looked at him right now. Placing his palms behind you, he gripped the sink, locking you in front of him. His breath fanned your face as he said, “I really hoped it wouldn’t come to this.”

“I am an honorable man. I have been as patient as I can be but you just make it so difficult” he rasped.

“Do you remember what you said before you signed our papers?”

His jaw clenched as he ordered, “Answer me.”

“I said I would do anything if you saved my brother.” Your body had started shaking.

His eyes sparkled as he grinned deviously; finally getting the answer he was desperately waiting for. “Anything? Are you sure? A lot can happen with anything.”

He dropped his head into your neck and traced a slow line with his tongue, painting your bare skin with his saliva till he reached the top of your neckline. You clenched your eyes shut, your hands closed in a tight fist as his mouth roamed your chest.

“The question is how far are you willing to be pushed my love?” He sucked on your sweet spots as you turned into an unstable block of mass in his arms. He knew you wouldn’t fight him.

He had pulled that one string to puppet you, that one weakness you would lose to every single time. He had you right where he wanted you. Digging his fingers into your hair, he pulled your mouth near his and started devouring you with his soft mouth.

“I hate this dress." He said between kisses. "I hate that everyone saw you looking this fuckable.” His hand glided up your thigh, slowly massaging the smooth skin up and down with his palm.

His teeth hooked around the strap of your dress and pulled them down. When the sleeves fell down, his mouth attacked your already sensitive nipples. He sloppily circled around them through the fabric of your bra. Your hand tugged his hair as he continued to suck. It became impossible to stop the moans escaping you.

 “You have no idea how much I’ve been holding back. I have been nothing but a respectable man to you. But I’m beginning to think that perhaps you do not like it.” His words scared you. He seemed to have taken this as some sort of challenge. The look of terror between your eyes made him rock hard. He forced your legs open with his knee. You could feel his cotton trouser pressing into you through your underwear.

“Perhaps you don’t deserve my restraints anymore.”

Your head fell back as his knees started rocking. He almost came right there when he felt your juices starting to drench his pants.

 “You have no idea how far I’m willing to go. Trackers? Trackers are nothing. I will tie you and gag you till no one can hear your screams. You will be at my complete mercy and no one will come save you.” He moaned as tears started falling uncontrollably from your eyes. He continued rocking till you were a complete sobbing mess.

You should’ve known better than to displeasure him.

He pulled back right before anything progressed further. Straightening his coat he kissed the side of your head. “See you at home Mrs. Hwang.” And with those six words he left, leaving you half naked and dazed. In that moment you realized you had started a very dangerous game in just one evening and you weren’t sure if you could handle playing against Mr. Hwang.

A/N: I wanna play his wife so bad

[clamped-jaws]

thinking about wife!reader and nanami in the shower…

note: a little something until i post my full fic / not proofread!

noticing how tired he is when coming home, you two immediately hop into the shower together.

warm water running down both of your bodies, his sighs of relief as the warmth of you and the water hit him. he could die happy right then and right there. but the one that puts him over the edge, something that absolutely makes him collapse is when you decide to wash his hair for him. he was reaching for the shampoo but you took his hand, ever the doting wife and decided to do it for him.

a small “let me take care of you.” as you kiss the smaller part of his back. turning around, he hands it to you, lowering himself so you can reach his hair comfortably not worrying about the awkward angle he’s now put himself in.

as you’re running the product through his hair you’re humming softly, a small piece of your tongue protruding out from your mouth out of pure focus. god he wants to pick you up right then and there and take you. but he’s a patient man, he’s waited all this time to have you, what’s one shower. “you’re so good to me.” he says, grabbing your hips to steady himself and you laugh, he’s always been one for dramatics as if you haven’t done more than this for him.

“you’re sweet.” you reply in a joking tone, messaging his head you hear him let out some soft grunts, your fingers intertwined in his blonde tresses sudsing him up. you didn’t know it then but you both felt so incredibly loved in that moment, almost as if you fit so well into each other — like long lost puzzle pieces that finally found their way back to one another.

and when you’re done, rinsing it all out. holding one hand over his eyes to keep the shampoo from hitting them and the other on the shower nozzle it’s like he doesn’t want to let you go. you’re practically pulling his arms from around you. he gets up slowly, kissing your inner thighs, hips, stomach all the way till he reaches your lips.

caressing your face he mutters something under his breath you don’t quite catch. “what would i do without you my love.”

⠀2025 / clampedjaws © all rights reserved.

[stxxrlights]

𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃!𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

500 followers special

husband!nanami who brings you delicious pastries and a big bouquet of your favourite flowers every week without fail because he loves you oh so much. he loves how you always say thank you to him and appreciating him in ways he had never been appreciated before.

husband!nanami who opens the car door for you before you get on or of. he has to be the gentleman he promised to be so don't you dare touch the door, he'll quickly get out of the car and go to your side and open the door for you and offers his hand to help you out too

husband!nanami who carries your heels in his hands as well as your purse because yours tired and your heels are killing you. he always has a pair of flip flops with him just incase this happens which is almost all the time, but he doesn't mind. not one bit

husband!nanami who likes to have you in his arms while he's reading a book. either you're sleeping or on the phone he doesn't care. he claims that he focuses better on the book knowing that you are right next to him in his arms.

husband!nanami who gets flustered when you brush his neck, especially the part closer to his undercut. his neck and ears flashing red and he's unable to look you in the eyes because of your teasing.

husband!nanami who loves to walk up behind you and circle his arms around your waist and rest his cheek on your shoulder as you cook. not speaking a word after a long tiring day of work, he just wants to feel you on him in silence and be happy that he made such an excellent decision of marrying you.

husband!nanami who ends up talking a lot about you to his coworkers when they ask about anything that's related to you. "your lunch looks good. did you make it?". "it was my beautiful wife actually. she'll be pleased to know you said that". just looking for any excuse to show you off.

husband!nanami who is loved by your parents. he makes meaning conversations with your dad and is a help around the house without being asked which your mom absolutely adores. "you should be more like him", your mom says for the hundredth time you've visited them while nanami's washing the dishes.

husband!nanami who let's you know how much he loves. either through words of affirmation, spoiling you with gifts and just doing acts in your favour. you're his favourite person and he wants you to know that making it evident in his words and his actions.

comments and reblogs are appreciated

[formulafanfics13]

Hiii lovie I hope you’re hydrated and doing well!! I have a request for George :)

Basically George got a surgery (it could be from a crash, or just a small surgery, whatever you want) and since he’s drugged up on anesthesia he’s completely out of it and he’s clingy and keeps on yapping about how hot his wife (the reader) is (reader is his girlfriend, not wife, yet😼) and on the drive home reader is making sure the passenger Princess (cuz he totally is I mean look at that diva) is absolutely as comfort as he possibly could be

mrs. george russell (in his dreams) - GR63

Masterlist

summary: george only went in for a minor surgery. he’s fine. totally fine. except the anesthesia has him feral. clingy. chatty. absolutely obsessed with how hot you are. so you do what any good girlfriend would do: you hold his hand, keep him comfy, and try not to crash the car when he calls you his wife for the sixth time in fifteen minutes. warnings: fluff overload, anesthesia-induced delirium, clingy!george, praise, use of “wife” even though they’re not married (yet), george being obsessed, reader driving him home, light language, cuddling

The nurse wheels him out of the private clinic like he’s some kind of royal. Which, to be fair, George is treating himself as.

He’s got one leg propped up, sunglasses crooked on his nose, arms crossed like he’s expecting paparazzi. Except his jaw is slack, his eyes are half-lidded, and the second he sees you standing next to the car, he gasps.

Loudly. “OH my god.”

You blink.

The nurse stifles a laugh. George gestures to you wildly. “Who the fuck is that?”

You raise a hand. “Hi, baby.”

He gasps again. Looks up at the nurse. “THAT’S my girlfriend?”

You flush. “Yes.”

He stares at you like you’ve descended from the heavens. “Oh my god,” he says again, hand over his chest. “She’s so HOT.”

You mouth a sorry to the nurse.

The nurse grins. “He’s been saying that since he woke up.”

“Right,” you sigh. “Of course.”

They help him into the car. Buckle him in. He slumps dramatically against the passenger seat. You thank the nurse and shut the door. Before you’re even in the driver’s seat, he’s grabbing your hand.

“You’re so hot,” he says again, completely serious. “How are you real?”

You laugh. “I ask myself that all the time.”

“No,” he says. “No, no, no. Like, seriously. You’re SO HOT. You’re the hottest person I’ve ever seen.”

You pull onto the road. “You always say that,” you tease.

“Because it’s true! You’re so pretty,” he whines. “And you’re NICE. And you bring me smoothies and rub my back when I’m sore and now you’re driving me and you’re being so careful and you didn’t even yell when I tried to eat my hospital bracelet.”

You blink. “You tried to-”

“I thought it was fruit leather.”

You giggle.

“I didn’t even care that I had surgery,” he continues. “I just wanted to see you again. The nurse said, ‘count back from ten,’ and I said, ‘tell my girlfriend I love her.’”

You melt. “That’s sweet, George.”

“I meant it.” He holds your hand tightly. Then gasps again. “Oh my god.”

“What now?”

“You’re going to be such a hot wife.”

You choke. “What?”

He nods solemnly. “I’ve decided.”

“You’ve-”

“You’re going to be my wife. I want to get you a ring. A BIG ring. I want everyone to know you’re taken. I want to wear a little shirt that says ‘Property of the Hottest Woman Alive.’”

You’re dying. “I don’t think anyone makes those.”

“I’ll��make one,” he says. “I’ll make you ten.”

You laugh. He leans his head against the window. “You know what else?”

“What?”

“I’m going to have surgery more often. Because you’re being SO nice to me right now.”

You glance over.

He’s pouting. Hugging a stuffed animal someone gave him. Wearing compression socks. Looking like a Victorian child with a minor cold.

You smirk. “Well, you are my passenger princess.”

“I am.” He sticks his leg out. “Can we get ice cream?”

“Not yet.”

“Can you rub my thigh?”

“You just had knee surgery.”

“But your hands are magic.”

You laugh. “You’re so annoying.”

“I love you.”

You pause. Turn to look at him. His face is soft. And yes, he’s drugged up. Out of it. Rambling. But he means it.

You squeeze his hand. “I love you too.”

He blinks slowly. “You’re going to be such a good wife,” he says again, dreamy. “I can’t wait.”

You’re both on the couch. He’s passed out in your lap. A throw blanket around his shoulders. An empty ice cream cup on the table.

You scroll through your camera roll. Click play on a video you took in the car. George’s voice, slurred and sincere: “Tell my girlfriend I love her.”

You smile. And then you open Notes.nTitle: Mrs. George Russell

You’ve got some planning to do.

[dontpulltohardman]

The Arm Bandit

pairing: husband!Bucky Barnes x wife!Reader

requests: OPEN

asks: OPEN

summary: As your daughter grows, her fascination with Bucky’s metal arm gives you a run for your money.

warning: straight fluff, daughters name is Lila but is called sweet pea and baby a couple times.

word count: 1.15k

A/n: Hope you all enjoyy don’t forget to like, comment and reblog. love you lots and lots like jelly tots ❤️

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵

It first started when Lila was teething. In his sleep-deprived state, Bucky let her gnaw on his finger for some relief and also just to stop her from crying. When you both noticed it worked, Bucky became her chew toy for the time being.

You had tried to get her to use something else, but nothing gave her the relief she wanted, and Bucky didn't mind. He found it sweet and gave him a chance to be closer to her.

By the time she was a year old, she started hitting. Every time Bucky was close to her, she beat his metal arm like a drum. Again, you both tried getting her to stop, but the way her face lit up and her giggles filled the room whenever she did it, Bucky caved immediately and let the strange habit continue.

As she got older, her fascination with his arm became less violent as she began tracing the gold lines that ran along it. Whenever he was near her, her hands had to be on him, more specifically, his arm.

When he had to put her down for a nap, she had her fingers dragging along each indent until she eventually lulled herself to sleep.

Then it got to the point where she couldn't sleep without it, and I mean absolutely couldn't. There were so many nights Bucky came into the room with his arm gone and his eyes tired, and all you could think was how a man who was built for war had now become so gentle, giving, utterly and completely hers.

Then she turned three, and all hell broke loose. There wasn't a moment when she wasn't climbing his arm like a tree or wrapped around it like a koala. The sight never failed to give a heart attack. "Bucky put her down", you'd say. "She could fall and get injured", he always brushed off your worries with a kiss and a simple, "I've got her doll."

And he did have her, until he didn't, when she learned how to detach his arm after a trip to Wakanda. So every time he got her 'mad' or just for shits and giggles, she would detach his arm and go running for the hills as her laughs echoed down the hallway, while Bucky reattached his arm for the third time in a row.

So that's where you are now, with a toddler who detaches metal arms to get out of trouble and a grumpy husband with said metal arm. "Doll, I can't take this anymore", Bucky groans as he enters the kitchen, reattaching his arm once again. "All the other things she did with my arm were cute. This one is just horrible". He groaned.

You glanced over your shoulder, trying (and failing) to hide your smile. “She’s three Buck, her full time job is driving you insane.” He slumped into his chair dramatically, dragging a hand across his face, “She called me ‘bad daddy’ because I wouldn’t let her put stickers on it”

You snort, “Well, can you blame her after the birthday incident?” You smile as you move between his legs. He narrows his eyes. “I still have glitter in my elbow joint from that”, he muttered, his head now resting on your stomach.

Before you could reply, the soft pattering of feet echoes down the hallway. You both turn to see your daughter; her curls a mess, face all innocent as she twirls the ends of her dress between her fingers.

Bucky smiles softly, “What’s the matter, sweet pea?” He asks, still holding onto you as you massage his shoulders. “Daddy, have arm, please?” Her smile is adorably sweet, and Bucky was just about to give in when you intervened.

“Not right now, baby, Daddy’s shoulder is hurting him.” Which wasn’t a lie; Bucky’s shoulder was in constant pain from your daughter taking his arm off too much, and he just ignored it to see her happy.

She looked at you like you just told her Santa wasn’t real. She sported an Oscar-worthy frown as she folded in on herself, and her eyes welled with crocodile tears. You shifted to lift her into your arms to rest her on your hip.

She pouted, looking just like her father, as she rested her head on your shoulder. You rubbed soothing circles on her back as she let out a tiny sigh, her thumb finding its way to her mouth. "I know, baby", you coo as you gently sway her. "Daddy needs a little break, just for tonight".

She huffs as she cuddles deeper into your chest, and Bucky leans back into his chair, fighting the growing smile on his face. "I'll tell you what," she perks up a little as he continues, "you let me keep the arm tonight so we can help mommy make cookies, and tomorrow we'll play princesses and you can put stickers on daddy's arm, yeah?"

She blinked at him slowly before pulling her thumb out of her mouth, "And glitter?"

Bucky sighed, shaking his head a little, and you can't believe the words that fall from his mouth, "Fine. A little glitter. But none in the elbow joint this time, okay?"

Her face instantly lights up, and her smile just melts your heart. "Okay, daddy!"

She wriggles out of your arms, into Bucky's lap and wraps her arms around his neck. You and Bucky exchange a quiet laugh as he holds her a bit tighter, before she runs off to use her newfound energy elsewhere.

"Tell me why we haven't had a second one yet?" Bucky mutters as his arms find their way around your waist, and his lips travel from your cheeks to your temple.

You smirked. "Because you're arm won't stand a chance against two of them". He scoffs in between kisses, "Don't knock it till you try it, doll," he says smugly before throwing you over his shoulder.

"James!" you shriek, lightly hitting his back as he trudges towards your bedroom, locking the door behind him.

BONUS

A series of giggles and deep belly laughs echo throughout the kitchen. The three of you huddle around a baking tray with some questionably shaped cookie dough, victims of Lila and Bucky's cookie competition that you have the honour of judging.

You watch with a smile as Lila sneaks chocolate chips out of the pack while Bucky figures out how to preheat the oven. "Everything okay over here, Super Soldier?" Your hands wrap around his waist from behind, and you rest your head on his shoulder. "Can you figure this out, please?"

You giggle into his shirt before leading him toward the stove to show him what to do. "Ah! What would I do without you, my love!" He smiles, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

"Who knows?" You shrug with a smile as you gently take Lila into your arms while Bucky places the tray into the oven.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵

[thedarkcircuswritings]

Can I please request some Dark Cacao cookie x His wife headcanons.

When going someplace, Dark Cacao always stands ahead of you, just in case danger tries to strike.

He has some self-esteem issues, but knowing that he's married to such a wonderful cookie makes him feel better.

He insists on spoiling you, even though you're both royalty.

He oversaw the construction of your throne next to his once you two became married.

After everything with Dark Choco, Dark Cacao is hesitant about having kids again.

He can and will buy you a cakehound for one of your anniversaries.

Speaking of anniversaries, he made it a three-day festival to celebrate both of your love within the kingdom!

He tends to have nightmares, and you always help him through them.

You help to encourage him to get out of the kingdom more often!

Kisses are rare, but when he does kiss you, he's very gentle and slow about it.

He has almost beheaded a man who tried to slander you.

Very protective and easily jealous, so he sticks by your side a lot.

He likes to dance with you a lot, and he thinks you're very graceful and beautiful.

[yawnderu]

Content: domestic Simon ''Ghost'' Riley, husband!Simon, massages, fluff, A LOT of ass smacks because this man has a whole ass bakery.

Simon sat quietly next to you on the couch, mind reeling with the stress from the mission he just came back from, gaze distant and focused on staring ahead. You know better than to take it personal, aware that he simply needs time to unwind and process he's back home, safe and sound.

''Would you like a massage?'' You offer with a small smile, noticing how his muscles seem more tense than usual, bulging out of his clothes even more. He's quiet for a few seconds before looking at you, managing to return a half-smile and nod in agreement. Your hands hold his, trying to pull him out of the couch and being unable to— the asshole is making himself heavier on purpose, a smug smirk painting his lips at the thought of annoying his wife.

You pull harder, grunts escaping your lips because he's just too damn heavy.

''Simon.'' One stern look is all it takes for him to willingly get up from the couch, playfully swatting your head out of the way before running away once you try to kick his ass, running right after him while a small laugh escapes your lips. You crash on his back, purposely pushing him face-down in bed before smacking his ass, dragging a quiet, muffled laugh out of him.

You remove his muddy boots, helping him get out of his clothes until he's stripped down to his boxers, still laying face-down in bed, trusting you completely with his body. You get a bottle of massage oil from the closet, landing another playful slap on his rear before straddling him, sitting on his ass as you began spreading the oil all over his back. He let out a grunt at the spank, but didn't bother protesting, too distracted by the sensation of the cold oil being spread all over his tense muscles.

Your hands work wonders soon after, kneading and applying pressure on every single one of his muscles, slowly getting rid of the knots and tension in his body. He laid in bed with his head turned to the side, eyes closed as he relaxed and enjoyed the feeling of your hands working over his muscles, low moans leaving his lips sometimes at the pressure applied on his back muscles.

20 minutes is all it took to get rid of most of the knots on his back, planting a gentle kiss on the side of his head before giving him another one on the cheek, getting a grunt in response from the half-asleep man.

''I love you.'' You whisper in his ear, using the leftover oil on your hand to massage his bicep.

''I love you too, sweet girl.'' He manages to reply, voice groggy and deeper as he tried to stay awake to spend more time with you. A small giggle leaves your lips when you see his struggle, getting off of him and jokingly playing bongos on his ass, looking at the muscle and fat giggling underneath your touch.

''God, your ass is so perfect.'' Your tone is playful, but he's no stranger to you worshipping his body, a small smile on his lips at your words.

''S'all yours.'' He mumbles sweetly, voice still gravelly and coarse as he allowed you to do as you pleased with him. Another gently spank is delivered to his ass before you lean down, biting one of his asscheeks— not hard enough to hurt him, but hard enough for him to feel it. His muscles twitch from the sudden sensation before he relaxes, a small chuckle leaving his lips as he turns to look at you with a smug grin.

A/N: I don't wanna kms anymore so here's some tender Simon instead of angst

[fictionalmenxyn]

hi can you write rafe x wife. Happily married and have 3 teen kids. Sons friends comes over and talks about mom as milf( idk maybe something else up to u) and Rafe and his wife hear it! Then Rafe f*cks her

of course I can!!

•———•

ఌ𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧ఌ

Pairing: husband!rafe x wife!reader

Warnings: SMUT, language, p in v, fingering, no mentions of protection (be safe, wrap it before u tap it!), breeding kink, dirty talk, possessive/jealous Rafe.

Feel free to send more reqs! Thinking of doing dad!Rafe so send me things you’d like to see! Or more husband!rafe idm! Anything!

🝮🝮🝮

Just getting home from work, you got out of your Range Rover. Collecting your handbag, laptop and some papers from the back seat.

You headed into yours and Rafe’s estate. Walking through the front door. You already knew your three sons had friends over. Your eldest, Cody had asked you over text. You slip your heels off by the door and walk through the large foyer and over to the spacious living room. You smiled as you saw your boys Cody (17), Morgan (16) and Ollie (14 1/2). You spoke “hey boys, you all having fun?” They all said their “heys” and “yeah, thanks”.

You subtly noticed the way their friends eyed you up. Teenage boys never really cared if you saw them checking woman out. Well, these lot didn’t. You looked over to the attached large kitchen, smiling as you see Rafe.

You walked over, putting your things onto the counter. Rafe was leaning forward. His elbows on the counter as he watched the tv from the kitchen as your sons and their friends had soccer on. You walked over to Rafe. Smiling as you put your hand on his back. “Hey, love, you ok?” He turns his head to look at you. His famous grin plastered on his face. “Yeah, all good, how’s work?” He pulls you by the waist. Giving you a soft but firm kiss, showing you how much he missed you since you left this morning. You pull away to answer “good, made some great photos today, all I have to do is change the lighting and tone..” he smiled and pecked your lips “good, can I watch it while you do it?”

Rafe loved what you did. You were a photographer for models, perfume/jewellery commercials or fashion designers. You took the photos and edited them to put on magazines or advertisements. He loved how much you enjoyed your job to.

You nodded “of course, Rafey” he smiled “good girl..” you pecked his cheek.

You sat at the island counter, going through the photos on your laptop. As Rafe leaned against the counter, arms crossed, taking the occasional sip from his drink.

You both overheard Cody and his friend talk. His friend, Jack, asked “dude, is that your older sister or something?” Cody asked “who?” Jack replied “the one that’s in the kitchen with your dad.” Cody shook his head “nah man, that’s my mom.” Jack replied “no fucking way?? She’s so hot, dude, your mom is such a milf, no joke.”

Rafe practically chocked on his drink, as your eyes widen and press your hand to your forehead. A quiet gasp escaped your lips. What did Jack just say? You couldn’t be going mad, Rafe heard the same thing.

Cody spoke “shut up! Don’t say that!” Jack shrugged nonchalantly “dude, I’m just saying, I’d tap that if I could.”

Your eyes widen, Rafe’s jaw clenched. Rafe didn’t need to be and wasn’t jealous… not exactly… he just didn’t like the fact that a seventeen year old friend of your sons had just said that about you… his wife, the mother of his children, his childhood friend, his lover…

Through the rest of the day, Rafe stuck to your side. You’d changed into some sweats and a crop top. Once you were done you both sat on the couch; Rafe next to you. He had his arm around you the whole time. Occasionally kissing your cheek or temple. Showing the boys, your his. He’s the one that put that beautiful diamond ring on your finger. He’s the one that put three beautiful and handsome boys in you. He helped you create life. He’s the one that gives you happiness.

🝮🝮🝮

Soon after, the sun started to set. Your three sons had asked both Rafe and yourself if they could stay the night at one of the boys house. Rafe agreed and told them to be safe and have fun.

As soon as he had shut that front door. You were in for a real treat tonight. Rafe walked back over to the couch. He put his one knee on the seat and he placed a hand on the side of your neck. His cold metal of his rings and watch press gently into your warm neck. He crashes his lips into yours like a starved man. His tongue quick to be shoved into your mouth. You knew what he was up to. You could tell it from the exact moment Cody’s friend said what he said about you.

You knew Rafe since day one, knew him better than he knew himself. So you knew what he was doing. And you were definitely not complaining.

Rafe placed one hand one your thigh and guided you so you laid back on the couch. While he stayed on top of you. He groaned against your lips. He mumbled “‘m gonna make you feel so good, baby” you gasped softly when you feel Rafe’s hips press against yours. He puts his free hand from your thigh, moving it to the waistband of your sweats.

Putting his hand down your sweats he could feel the material of your panties and your soft, wet skin. He groaned “you wearing the black lace ones?” You nodded. He grinned “all f’me…mine” you mumbled “yes, Rafey…”

His fingers slowly move up and down against your heat. You moaned softly. You gasp when you felt his middle finger slip in. He tilted his head and started to kiss along your neck. He groaned, his finger slowly pulling in and out. As he inhaled the sent of your vanilla perfume, he groaned once again. He mumbled against your soft skin “feel so good on my finger, want another, babe?” You nodded. He replied “words. y/n.” You whispered “another, please, Rafe” he slipped his ring finger in. Causing you to gasp softly.

After a few more seconds he pulled his fingers out. You whimpered, he grinned “oh we aren’t done, just wanna take you upstairs… prefer the bed.” Your mouth practically waters as you watch him move his fingers to his mouth. Cleaning you off his digits.

He picks you up, over his shoulder. Taking you upstairs and not wasting anymore time.

Placing you down on the bed, he was quick to take your clothes off. All piece of clothing on the floor. While he starts to take his off, you watched in awe. Your reaction to him will always be the same. It’s like looking at him for the first time, over and over. You never got tired of him. Never have and never will.

You watched as he was swift to remove his boxers. His huge length springing free. He moved onto the bed. His lips go to yours as his hand moves to his length. Pumping it a few times, then lining up with your entrance. You gasp as he started to push in. Once he was all the way in he leaned over you. His chain dangles by your chin. His hands either side of your shoulders. His biceps flex as he looks down at you.

“You’re so pretty under me, sweetheart.” You moaned softly as he slowly started to move in and out. He chuckled lowly “you know, what the boys said… was right..” he groaned. “You are a milf… my milf… such a hot momma, baby… I know you want another… want me to give you one?” You moaned as he picked up the pace a little more. “Words, sweetheart.” You nodded “yes, fuck! Want another…”

He moaned hearing your words, “fuck Y/n, I’ll give you another… I’ll fill you up, make your baby bump come back. Love you baby bumps… every one of them…” you moaned. His one hand moves to your lower stomach, pushing on the bulge on your lower abdomen. Causing you to moan, as he goes deeper.

He picks up his pace, he moaned “fuck, gonna make you pregnant again. Wanna see you with my baby in you again.” He goes harder. “Fuck can feel you round me, that make you excited, baby? Thinking of me getting you pregnant again?”

You nodded, grabbing onto his bicep. Nails digging into his tan skin. He groans at the feeling. He spoke “gonna give ya a girl this time, I wanna girl, so I can spoil you both, yeah? Let you two have the world.” You moan “oh Rafey!” He grinned. “Yeah? Like that?” You nodded. He leaned back. Grabbing your hips, guiding you against him as he thrusts into you.

He can feel your close, “gonna come f’me? Let me have it, sweetheart. You do that f’me and I’ll do it for ya..” you placed your hand on his chest. Then holding his chain. Wanting him closer, he knew you well. He knew that meant you were about to finish. He leaned down. You moaned “fuck, gonna-” “do it, finish over my cock f’me, love…” those words hit you like a brick wall. Every. God. Damn. Time.

And he knew it too.

You moaned one last time, then finishing. Causing you to tighten around him. He chased his realise and finished inside you.

He moaned as he slowed his pace. Still thrusting, just slowing down. Chasing both of your climaxes. Once he came to a spot. You had you usual ‘thank you’. He kissed both cheeks, then your forehead, temples, chin, nose and then your lips. He mumbled against your lips “you ok? Feel good, baby? You did so good..” You nodded “so good.”

He gently pulled out, causing you both to inhale sharply. He gently picked you up. Going ahead and doing your aftercare. For all the time you both knew each other. And past Rafe, with his many hook ups. Not once did he do aftercare. But for you? His childhood friend to girlfriend to fiancée to wife to mother of his children?

He’d give you the world, he’d kill for you. Protect you. Die for you, live for you. He’d do anything for you. Even if it’s as simple as aftercare. He loves you. You love him.

🝮🝮🝮

[bunny-jpeg]

willing wife

capt. john price

tags: smut/pwp, rough sex, stress relief, size difference/kink, dirty talk, doggy style, age gap (20s/40s), passionate sex, established relationship (married), smutty goodness

  "I'm going home to my wife."

Price said it without hesitation or a pause. As soon as he said it he was out of the room and headed towards his car. He was frustrated, annoyed above all else. The mission planning was taking far too long for something that seemed so simple.

He could hear what his comrades were saying, but didn't stop the answer any of their questions - the mission didn't matter, he had another one that was more important. He needed to get home to you.

As he sat in the car for a moment to compose himself, he sent you a single text message, "clothes off and in bed, big bear needs his stress relief." And he knew that you'd be nude and ready for him.

Like a good wife.

He opened the door to your shared home and barked out, "Honey, I'm home." And he could hear a bit of movement upstairs. With his boots off, he encroached up the stairs. His steps were heavy and forceful like a lumbering bear.

And when he opened the bedroom door full, he saw you. Oh his sweet little wife. Soft eyes, softer lips, with curves that Price wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into. A single glance at you had his cock throbbing in his work pants.

  "There's my angel." He said, "There's my baby girl." He pulled at the military issued belt, "Ready for me?"

You nodded and shifted a little on the bed to give your husband more of a view of your naked body. You looked divine, perfect beyond words. As you admired him while he undressed, he could feel the ache in his cock for you.

Patient, loyal - like a good wife. God a body of a goddess and a mind to hold down the fort while Price fought wars. And he'd always come home to you. Bury himself in your slick cunt and remind you that you were a good wife.

He was quicker to undress himself, you were already nude. The only thing on your body was your wedding ring. How sweet. Happy you'd never take it off, unless it was do to the dishes or make him a proper Sunday dinner. The thought excited him, none of his boys had a wife like him.

He licked his lips and crawled into bed with you, "Been thinkin'."

"Never a good sign." You replied as you cradled his face in your hands, "A man like you shouldn't think too much." Your expression changed, eyes went wide as he pinned you down on the bed by your shoulders and his hard cock brushed up against your thigh.

  "No need for the commentary, sweetheart." He leaned further in against you, "Need that soaked, pretty pussy right now." Then man-handled you till you were on your stomach with your hips raised to meet his aching cock, "Thinkin' about ruining you again. Carving a space for only my cock in your pussy. No other man will fit right when I'm done with you."

You let out a small noise, the words were like a small rush to your head as you felt the heavy presence of your husband behind you. Your stomach in knots, you were happy to help him in days of stress. It benefited you too, you loved how he took you on days like this.

There was much more of a power to his movements when he was hungry that way. When he needed you like this - soft and submissive. You were the head of the house as much as he was, but when he came home littered in stress. You gave up total control and let your tired husband rut into your pussy. Letting filth spill from his lips as his cock throbbed inside of you.

It was a fair trade off and made his morale better. Fuck away the stress.

  "Was it a hard day, pumpkin?" you asked sweetly as if your face wasn't pushed into the covers.

  "Harder than you'd believe. But that's alright now, sweetheart. Got my wife with me now." he said as he pressed his fuzzy chest against your sweaty back. Had a strong arm wrapped you as he used his free hand to guide his cock inside of your sweet, welcoming hole.

You let out a small noise, it was always a little too big for your liking. But Price was mostly delicate with getting it inside of you. Making sure that his little wife didn't get too ruined by him. He loved you too much for that, he wanted to make sure you were all his and knew already you were all his.

  "It's alright, sweetheart." he said, "You know me, she knows me. Just let me in. Always so welcoming, so sweet." He purred as he sank his heavy cock into your achy hole, "My sweet wife, all for me."

His voice burned in the back of your mind as he started to move against you. His thrusts heavy yet slow, they left your mind abuzz as he worked himself against you. Felt like a small slice of heavy with the feeling of his length pushed up inside of you.

You couldn't help but moan, need him so badly. You loved that you were his stress relief, that he could work himself on top of you and get the relief he needed. It made you feel full,heavy with lust and the weight of his cock pushed inside of you.

  "Take me so well." He mused, "Pretty little wife." He moved a bit faster, "Yeah, like that, sweetheart? I bet it feels good."

You whined in response, "Please, John."

  "I got ya, sweetheart. Let your husband have you tonight." he kissed the side of your neck and kept his grip on you firm. He had both arms wrapped around you as his tip bullied against the deepest parts of you. It was like that was where he belonged.

You were his wife, all his. And he'll happily make sure that his wife is taken care of while he fucks you with a desperate need.

  "I love you."

  "Love you too, sweetheart." He cooed.

His pace quickened and you felt the overwhelming need to have more of him. You always needed him, he was the subject of most of your fantasies. He wound himself in your mind anytime you got wet. You were needy for your husband just like he was needy for you.

The pleasure tasted good on the tip of your tongue. The pleasure felt heavy and hot in your gut as he fucked you against the mattress. He laid claim on your smaller body. He used his hairy form to shield you and press further into you. You were trapped in a way but the excitement of it only made the pleasure spike in your core.

Your man, your husband. The thought curled itself around you while he thrust deep into you. You could taste the want on your tongue as your noises got more needy. They got louder with each thump of his body against yours. It was a proper feeling for the both of you, something that left you gasping and whiny.

  "Pretty thing." He cooed, "And all mine. Get to come home to a clean home and a sweet cunt." His voice dipped deeper, his tone had sexual heat hung in it, "You feeling good, sweetheart?"

You nodded against the pillows, you were soaked between your legs. It felt well beyond just good. You held onto the covers while he fucked you and your back arched a little bit from the exhilaration of pleasure that raced through you.

  "Always love coming home to you." he said as he continued his rough movements, he continued to keep you pinned and made sure that he was giving you the pleasure you both deserved.

  "Fuck, John." You gasped.

  "Love the sound of that." He purred, "My sweetheart getting close?"

You moaned, "Yes!"

  "Love to hear it." he said as he quickened his pace, "Come on now, finish all over your husband's cock." His voice ran gin your mind as you let him fuck you with feverish want. You gasped against the pillows and your hips were raised up further.

It didn't take much longer for him to push you over the edge of orgasm. You gasped into the covers while your pussy clenched around him. You soon came all over his cock, coating him in your wetness.

  "I love you." You gasped.

He kissed your heated cheek and replied, "I love you too." While he continued to work himself against you. With a few more heavy thrusts of his own, he held onto you tightly and came inside of you, "Be a good girl and take all of it, alright? You'll be good for me." he purred.

You moaned, unable to form words as he slowed his pace to a stop. He held onto you and rubbed his chest up against your back, you felt the soft hairs against your sweaty skin which made you shudder with want. It felt good.

You turned your head a little bit to kiss him on the lips and he visibly relaxed against you. His softening cock stayed inside of you for a moment longer as you shared such a sweet kiss.

  "Mine." He said lowly. His tone edged with heat for you.

  "All yours, big bear."

He smiled proudly before you two were both on your backs on the soft bed. You were quickly held in your lover's arms and he kissed along your neck with tenderness. It felt warm in your body as the blankets were pushed down to the bottom of the bed.

Heat radiated between you two.

He said, "Should take an excellent picture of you tomorrow for the boys."

  "Do you not have any already?" You asked curiously.

  "No, ma'am. At least none where you have your clothes on." Then laughed when you shoved him. But he was quick to capture you closer into his arms and kissed across your heated cheeks, "Don't worry, sweetheart. Your tits are for my eyes only."

At least your husband was much more relaxed now.

[msfantasy-anime]

No way! Luffy has a Wife?!

Monkey D. Luffy x Wife!Reader

Summary: an amalgamation of many requests on others finding out Luffy is married.

A/n: Thanks @matronofthevoid for the prompt of Boa Hancock and to the other anonymous DM’s requesting others

Part VII

After a few weeks of Monkey Y/n’s Wanted posters circulating, the world government has issued a retraction after being unable to locate the marriage certificate of Luffy and Y/n.

The marines have since issued new Wanted posters, removing the family name ‘Monkey’ followed by the following description.

‘Y/n, Wanted Dead or Alive for 200 million berries after assaulting a marine officer for insulting childhood friend Monkey D. Luffy. The bounty has been increased as Y/n is confirmed to be an official member of the strawhat pirates after eye-witness testify Y/n claiming allegiance to the strawhat captain in wholecake Island. The World Government would also like to retract any claims or statements of the marriage between the pair due to lack of evidence to support claim.’

Whilst it true the new posters and description have been issued- not everyone has received the new news.

Shanks - Receiving the original poster

“Hey captain! Check this out!” Yassop howls in laughter with Lucky Roux, throwing a newly issued bounty down into their captains lap.

Wanted Dead or Alive. Monkey. Y/n. 100m berries.

Shanks eyes widen slightly at the name.

“Luffy’s a grown man now, wife and all…” Shanks mutters, his eyes shining with pride before quickly faltering to horror. “That little twerp got married and didn’t even invite me?! Can you believe that?!”

Silvers Rayleigh - Receiving the original poster

Shakuyaku smirks down at the news paper below her, taking a good long drag from the cigarette sitting loosely between her fingers.

“What’s got you smiling like that?” Rayleigh steals a glance at the papers. “Well would you look at that… the boys not completely hopeless after all.”

Boa Hancock - Receives the new posters

As all of the Kuja warriors suspected. Their beautiful loving Empress has been bedridden for weeks.

The wanted poster…

The description of Luffy’s marital status…

It was all far too much for the tender hearted empress.

But as soon as Gloriosa received the newest issue, she figuratively bolted to the empresses bed chamber. “I’ve come bearing great news!” Gloriosa announces, pulling the blanket off of the rotting figure that is Boa Hancock.

He matted hair remains tangled, her swollen eyes pinching together tighter at the exposure of light. “Leave at once you old hag! Leave me to my suffering!” Hancock wails, pulling weakly at the bedcovers.

“He isn’t married!” Gloriosa announces as Hancock sits up rapidly. “Luffy! He isn’t married- it was just a false report! They’re only childhood friends!” The angelic expression that follow was so blindingly beautiful, Gloriosa’s memory lapsed at the beauty that is her Empress.

“Luffy my love! I knew it! You shall be mine! No woman is qualified for his affections!” Hancock swoons.

Monkey D. Garp - Receives the new poster

“See Koby?! I knew it wasn’t true!” Helmeppo scrutinises the posters hung up on the wall.

‘Y/n Wanted Dead or Alive’

Koby shrugs indifferently. Whilst it might be true Luffy and Y/n aren’t married, is it really so crazy to believe Luffy has romantic interests? Well according to Helmeppo, such a statement is ridiculous.

“What are you two bickering about now?” Garp grumbles, shoving his hand into the bucket of popcorn and into his mouth by the fist fulls.

“Sir- you would know more than that Luffy couldn’t possibly be married.” Helmeppo guestures to Y/n’s new poster.

There was a moment of silence before Garp dropped his bucket of popcorn to the floor, snatching the poster as his eyes widen in horror. “Huh?! So that little brat went and became a pirate after all?! Does anyone listen to me?! First Ace, then my idiot grandson and now my angel?!” Storming to his desk, Garp continues to mutter to himself under his breath, riffling through the papers until he is able to extract a report pertaining to your bounty from the pile.

You were Garp’s one saving grace.

The one and only rambunctious child that didn’t go over to the dark side, but based off the report- it’s still his idiot grandsons fault.

If he didn’t become a pirate then you wouldn’t have gained a wanted poster defending his honour like the noble angel you are.

“Sir - you would know more than anyone. Is Luffy and Y/n married or not?” Koby asks, only for Garps eyes to remain dark and downcast in angst.

“Unofficially.” He mutters only for Helmeppo to cringe at the confirmation.

“So it’s true then?! Strawhat really does have a wife?!” Helmeppo shouts in horror, needing desperately for Garp to tell him the honest truth.

“Huh?” Garp picks his nose mindlessly as he thinks back. “That idiot has been claiming they’ve been married for years… guess he just finally wore her down.”

Bartolomeo - Receives the new poster

“And Y/n defended Sir Luffy by knocking that filthy marine out in one hard punch!” Bartolomeo praises, dabbing a moist tissue to his eyes. “It’s just so beautiful! Sir Luffy deserves nothing less than a devoted wife to defend his honour.” Bartolomeo throws himself onto the floor as he continues to sob hysterically. “And - to think- they’re childhood friends! Truely a romantic story for the ages!”

The crew begin to cry in unison. “How can people deny their marriage?!” Some sobbing crewman questions, blowing his nose into his own shirt.

“They don’t need no stink’in piece of paper! We will help sir Luffy by spreading their grand love story far and wide for all to hear!”

Y/n - Receives the new poster

“Hey have you guys seen Y/n?” Luffy questions, scratching his head absentmindedly.

Zoro points lazily towards the head of the Thousand Sunny where you appear to be sitting glumly. You begin to make the face you always do when you are sad.

“I’m sorry Luffy- I didn’t mean to upset her.” Chopper mutters sadly. But Zoro only drops his heavy hand on Choppers head. “Y/n’s bounty went up, I went to show her, but then she got really upset.“ Chopper holds up the newly issued Wanted poster of Y/n.

“Hey it’s not your fault, all you did was show her the new poster.” Zoro reassures but Choppers shoulders sink further.

Luffy snatches Nami’s pen from her hand and begins to scribble on the Wanted poster.

“Luffy! What the hell-“ Luffy tosses the pen back on the table and stalks back off towards his gloomy wife.

“Oi! Have you seen your new wanted poster? Looks like your bounty went up since you’re officially in my crew now.” Luffy announces ecstatically, shoving the wrinkly paper into your hands.

You begin to slouch into yourself. You knew it was silly but it was heart wrenching to finally have a family name only of it to be taken at a moments notice. ‘Monkey’ was not a last name you even earnt. But even so, it was nice to feeling like you belonged somewhere.

“Yeah, what about it?“ Your voice shrivels up on the spot.

Looking down at the wanted poster you see your name haphazardly scribbled ‘Monkey Y/n’

Tears threatened to well-up. Without you even admitting out loud - Luffy somehow knew exactly what upset you and how to fix it. “You’re so dumb sometimes ya’know?” Luffy states rhetorically, which only makes you begin to boom with laughter. “How many more times do I have to remind you? You’re my wife. You don’t need some piece of paper to give you a last name. Because I already gave you my last name.” You begin to grin at your sweet loveable doofus. “But if you need a piece of paper, then take that. I wrote it myself and everything- Kay?” He asks only for you to spring on top of Luffy, pulling him into a lethal tight hug.

[fanged-fanfics]

hello 🤗 hope you're doing great, if it'snt too much could you write a Dark Cacao cookie x sweetheart wife reader please ??

☆ Soft Spot — Dark Cacao x Wife!Reader ☆

Genre: Fluff || she/her pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Dark Cacao prides himself on being solitary, giving a strong demeanor that most will find intimidating enough to listen to. You, however, are the exception to this

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Your kindness and sweet nature helps soften up the king when he needs it. He always eases up when your hand cups his cheek, leaning into your touch

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He could be right in the middle of threatening someone and pause whenever you come in because he doesn't wanna risk scaring you

ᯓᡣ𐭩 It's always a little funny for some others to see you two out together since Dark Cacao is almost always glaring or seems pissed in some way and you have such a radiant grin beside him

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Anyone who tries to tease him about being so sweet to his wife get the most aggressive glare the king can muster ("Just because you are unwed doesn't mean you can throw stones at my wife and I")

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He isn't much for PDA, but he'll let you hold onto his arm and link his with yours while you're handling diplomatic matters together, or an arm around your waist

ᯓᡣ𐭩 You've made it your personal duty to prove wrong his "I don't know how to laugh" claim. You've made him smile and chuckle on bad days more times than he wants to admit

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "I don't know what I've done to deserve a gift such as you, but I hope every day you see just how much I appreciate your presence"