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jobean12-blog · 9 months

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Had to be You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (enemies to lovers ish)

Word Count: 2,270

Summary: You and Bucky have been going at each other for months. He's grumpy and defensive. You're sassy and frustrated. Steve's had enough. So when Steve steps in to do something will it work? Or will it makes things worse?

Author's Note: At this point all I want is for Bucky to kiss me senseless for the rest of my life (and do everything else) but really. Kisses. Yes please. Anyway. Thank you so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: some light mead comsumption, angsty ex talk, tension but softness, happy ending

“STEVEN GRANT ROGERS! You get back here right now and open this door before I kick your ass!”

Steve’s chuckle only makes you angrier. “I’ll open it when you two make nice.”

“STEVE!” you screech.

His retreating footsteps have you banging your forehead into the thick metal of the door, muttering curses under your breath.

“Please tell me Stark has some hidden exit in here somewhere?” you sigh.

“I’m going to kill Steve.”

When Bucky’s speaks his first words since you got locked in the gym together you spin to face him, eyes hard.

“Get in line Barnes!”

“Hey, look at that kids, you’re agreeing already!” Steve’s voice rings out from down the hall.

With that last remark everything goes silent other than your frustrated huffs.

“Is this actually happening?” you whine. “Can’t you just break the door down?”

Bucky’s blue eyes stare blankly and you grow more agitated.

“Why the hell did he do this?”

You glare back in his direction, hands on your hips. “Because of your sunshine and rainbows attitude toward me!”

You spit out the words, letting them drip with sarcasm.

“MY attitude?” Bucky grits out as he sticks a finger in his chest. “Doll face. I’ve been nothing but a perfect gentleman to you.” That same finger spins to point at you now.

You face him fully and take a step closer.

“Grunts do not equal a greeting and barely answering questions and barely making conversation definitely does not show your gentlemanly side!”

Bucky opens his mouth to retort but you continue on. “And what about avoiding me all together!? What the fuck is that about?”

He runs his large hand through his hair and squeezes the back of his neck, setting his lips in a hard line.

“Fuck. Please tell me there’s still some of Thor’s mead in here,” he mutters.

“Why the hell would he leave alcohol in the gym?” you ask, your brows nearly hitting your hairline.

With a shrug Bucky starts moving about and searching under things. “He likes to ‘get drunk’” and he makes air quotes as he says it, “and then show us how he can still lift heavier weights.”

You can’t help the laughter that boils up and over but you quickly cover your mouth when Bucky gives you an unamused look.

“Here it is!” he chimes, seeming far too relieved.

You move toward him as you watch him take a swig from the bottle, the muscles in his neck shifting with every swallow.

“Save some for me,” you say quietly and hold out your hand.

He smirks.

“Careful doll. Too much of this and I’ll have to carry you out of here.”

As more of the mead circulates through your body you start to relax marginally, thoughts of killing Steve slowly fading.

Bucky has been sure to keep your consumption under control and other than feeling less murderous and calmer you’re lucid.

“So,” you muse. “It doesn’t look like Steve is coming back any time soon. And we’ve been quiet. No yelling or fighting.”

Bucky simply grunts in agreement.

“SEE!” you nearly shout. “That’s exactly what I mean. I say something and your answer is a grunt…WHAT. THE. FUCK!”

While waiting for his explanation you notice a slight pink flush to his cheeks and you find it hard not to throw him a triumphant smile.

Deciding to let him off the hook for now, you ask, “how long have you known your best friend is insane?”

To your surprise, Bucky laughs. A real laugh that has his eyes crinkling and his nose scrunching up.

You try not to stare too long but you find it difficult to look away.

“Are you drunk Barnes?”

His eyes meet yours and the corner of his mouth twitches with a boyish smile.

“You’re full of questions tonight doll. And for the record it takes a lot more than this to get me drunk,” he admits as his smile widens.

He shifts in his spot on the floor, his long legs now stretched out in front of him and you can’t help but focus on his thighs and the way his jeans pull tightly over the thick muscle.

“Who knew all we needed was a little alcohol to not fight.”

You chuckle and hold your hand out for the more.

He shakes his head no and places the bottle down on the floor before leaning forward.

“I don’t want to fight with you. Ever.”

At his admission, your expression hardens.

“Then why are you so….so… unfriendly?” you ask.

“Why are you always so sassy?” he shoots back. “Seems to me like you’re the one always looking for a fight.”

His answer makes you sigh.

“I don’t see you doing that to Barton or Steve…hell anyone else!” he adds.

He waits patiently, his eyes trained on you and his body straining forward.

With more nonchalance than you feel, you confess, “you’re kind of my type. And my dating track record sucks. So…you know…”

You motion to him. All of him. His long legs, broad shoulders, hard chest, sculpted arms and his perfectly handsome face.

Stunned, Bucky stares for a second too long and too fiercely.

Heat starts to tickle your skin as you feel your body react to his focused attention.

“Are you…” he starts, before clearing his throat. “Are you telling me that you’re attracted to me and that’s why you hate me?”

The tension is thick, stretching between you for many long seconds before you wrench your eyes away and look down at your hands.

“I don’t hate you.”

Your words are quiet and the next sentence that passes your lips is even softer. “I just have a hard time trusting men.”

When he doesn’t say anything you look up at him and see the hurt etched across his features.

“Are you sure it’s not just me you don’t trust?”

At his question, the realization of what he’s implying hits you and you immediately slide closer to him and reach your hands toward him.

“No Bucky. That’s not it at all. In fact I trust you with my life…just not necessarily my heart.”

When he continues to study you, his features softening, but doesn’t speak, you add. “It’s not your fault. Really.”

“I want to know why.”

“Why what?” you ask.

“Why you don’t trust men.”

His jaw is tight and his fists are clenched in his lap.

He’s clearly distraught over the fact that you’ve been hurt and you’re sure he’s thinking the worst. It melts you more and you want to reach out and trace the hard line of his jaw to reassure him.

“It’s not anything that bad. I’ve just been hurt. A lot. And not just in romantic relationships. Friendships too.”

He scowls. “In what ways?”

You shrug like it’s nothing.

“What is there to say? The first real relationship I was in ended when he found something better. He told me when we broke up, ‘why would I say with you when I can do better’.”

“That motherfucker,” Bucky fumes as he opens and closes his metal fist, the whirring metal sounds momentarily distracting you.

“Yeah. But that wasn’t the last. My boyfriend after that I found out was sleeping with my friend. Or I thought she was my friend.”

“Fucking hell. Please tell me you’re kidding.”

He stands slowly, visibly agitated.

“And we haven’t even gotten to my last boyfriend yet. Better sit back down.”

“I’m too fucking pissed off to sit,” he growls.

“Honestly, it’s more my fault. I knew I shouldn’t have dated him. He was just like the rest and when my friend sent me a video of the two of them fucking I was hardly surprised.”

You couldn’t look at Bucky anymore and you dropped your eyes.

“Guess I’m just not good enough to stick around for.”

“Fuck,” he exhaled. “Doll.”

He sat down in front of you, forcing your attention back to him.

“Please don’t tell me you really believe that.”

You give him an exasperated look. “After being dumped three times you kind of start to believe it.”

Suddenly, he kicks at one of the weight machines, making the metal creak and bend then he falls to his knees in front of you and takes your hands in his.

The smell of him surrounds you and you have no where to look but into his eyes.

“These men,” and he spits out the last word. “Fuck that, they aren’t men. These pieces of shit have no idea what a gift you are and they don’t deserve you. They deserve a fucking beating.”

“Bucky.”

You squeeze his hands. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he counters. “Tell you the truth? Tell you that you’re gorgeous, sexy, smart, and kind.”

His eyes drop to your mouth and he licks his lips.

“Hardly kind,” you scoff. “Look how poorly I treated you.”

He reluctantly drags his eyes from your mouth and determination hardens his gaze.

“Nah doll face. I get it now. And honestly, a lot of that is on me. I couldn’t understand why someone as perfect as you wanted anything to do with me. I put up my defensives the only way I know how.”

You whisper his name hoarsely and run your thumb along his jawline.

His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks and he exhales.

Even if you wanted to you couldn’t stop the way your body moved closer to his and when he slides his hand up your arm and around the back of your neck your lips part in a gasp.

Just as you feel his warm breath tickle your skin the lock on the door turns and Steve calls your names.

You quickly pull away with wide eyes, shooting one last look at Bucky before you lift your eyes to Steve.

He stares between the two of you and then at the half empty bottle of mead.

“What…?”

“Nothing,” you and Bucky say at the same time.

Bucky jumps to his feet and holds his hand out for you.

You take it and let him pull you up and into his body. Your chest brushes his with your every breath and you’re right back where you were just seconds ago…under his spell.

It only takes a moment for your past hurt to flood back and wash away the desire you’re feeling and in the next breath you’re mumbling goodbyes and rushing off.

When Bucky finally finds you the next day the apology you’ve been wanting to give him spills out.

“I just want to say that I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting.”

He takes a step closer to you, crowding you against the door of your room.

“I really appreciate that doll, but I should be the one apologizing to you. I’m sorry. For everything.”

“Thank you.”

It’s all you can manage to say with him so close to you.

You can feel your pulse jump and when you hear the moving metal plates in his arm you look down at his hands to see them clenched into fists at his sides.

“Bucky?” you ask.

“I’m having a really hard time not touching you,” he explains in a pained whisper.

“Oh,” you breathe out.

He closes the space between you and your back hits the door. He slowly lifts his hand, caressing your cheek with his thumb and then slowly sliding his fingers down to stroke your neck.

The gentle dominance in his touch sets you on fire and you lean into him.

“I’m scared of getting hurt Bucky.”

The words tumble out and you start to drop your gaze but he stops you with the press of his fingers under your chin.

His eyes harden and he doesn’t speak.

You whisper his name, your voice shaky.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m just talking myself out of hunting every one of your exes down and skinning them alive.”

His voice grows with anger and you press a soft hand to his hard chest.

“They aren’t worth it.”

“You’re worth it.”

Taken aback by the intensity of his words you stare into his eyes, their blue color filled with longing and fierceness.

“Fuck doll. You have no idea how fucking gorgeous you are, do you? I can hardly catch my breath.”

Your hand shoots to your mouth and you quietly inhale, nibbling your bottom lip to stop the smile that wants to break out across your face.

“Do you want me to go?” he asks.

You drop your hand from your lips and reach for him. “No.”

He tilts his head and inches closer, his mouth lightly brushing yours.

Your fists clench the front of his Henley and your eyes close at the light press of his lips. You stay like that, trying to remember to breathe.

He pulls away only enough to stare at your mouth and then traces his thumb across your upper lip.

“What is it?” you ask with a worried tone.

His thumb falls to your lower lip and he gives it the same attention, savoring the softness.

“Why won’t you kiss me?”

He drops his hand from your lips and as his fingers fall they trace the outline of your neck before his hand wraps around the back of it and he brings you impossibly closer.

“I’m worried that once I start…” he breathes against your lips. “I won’t be able to stop.”

When he presses his lips to yours he groans low in the back of his throat, his hands desperate to get you closer.

The way you taste, the feel of your lips, your gasps and moans…he can’t stop.

He can’t stop.

@hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @kmc1989 @goldylions @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife @littleseasiren @lizette50

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #enemies to lovers #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan #bucky

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evansbby · 1 year

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⭒✮▹𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: older husband!Ari Levinson x naive wife!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: daddy!kink, smutt, dd/lg vibes, pregnancy!kink, breeding!kink, housewife!kink, lactation!kink, size difference, age gap, innocence!kink, naive reader, 18+ only, minors dni!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Ari finally comes home to his very pregnant wife.

𝐀/𝐍: I’m just surprised I didn’t write this sooner tbh. Enjoy!

“Honey, I’m home!”

Your husband’s booming voice echoes around the house, sending thrills up and down your spine. You feel a huge smile plaster itself on your face – despite the fact that you’ve been married to him for almost a year now, you still feel giddy like a little girl every time you hear him come home. You carefully set down the casserole that has just finished cooking, impatiently shaking your oven mitts off before making a beeline to the front door and launching yourself at your big, beefy husband.

“Ari!” You hug him hard, pressing your nose into his hard chest that smells so deliciously like him. Like fresh soap and his manly musk with a hint of salty seawater. Just him. And you can’t help but breath him in, trying your best to climb up his body and wrap your legs around his waist, which is obviously a hard task considering how big your belly has gotten. “Missed you so much,” you mumble against his solid body, loving the feel of his warm arms enveloping you into his embrace. You wish he’d hug you harder, completely crush your body against his like how he used to. Till you can’t breathe but in the best possible way.

But of course, he’s ten times more mindful of you now. Pregnancy and all.

“Baby,” Ari breathes, burying his nose in your hair and nuzzling the top of your head. He presses a bunch of kisses against your hairline, one hand already on your belly (its favourite place to be, as of late), stroking it softly while his other hand meanders down to your ass (his other favourite part of your body). “Mm, I missed you too, sweet girl. Missed your little body against me like this.”

He cups your face, tipping it upwards and lifting you slightly so he can plant a kiss to your lips. He was just so damn tall and big – kissing was a bit of a problem unless he bent down or picked you up. You didn’t mind, though. You loved how much bigger he was than you, how strong and beefy and muscular he looked.

And Ari’s genes were strong enough that he’d passed them down to his unborn children too. You were about eight months along with Ari’s twins in your belly. Both boys. Both bigger than average according to your last scan. And both extremely active and strong just like their daddy – you knew because of all the somersaults and kicks they were subjecting you to day after day. But it was worth it. Ari said that you were the always the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid his eyes on, but pregnancy just made you glow differently. And he’d get that fire in his eyes every time he looked at your belly growing his babies, and it made you feel so powerful, so sexy, so wonderful.

You’d only been married to Ari for a month before you’d found out you were pregnant. You’d met him less than a year ago, this business tycoon who’d swept you off your innocent feet. He was handsome, charming and respectful, and he’d proposed to you after only a few weeks. You’d said yes, of course. And he’d made it clear that he wanted a big family, a cute little housewife (you) who took care of him and his children. You were all too happy to oblige, because you wanted all those things too.

“How are my boys?” Ari whispers, cupping your belly with his huge palm. God, he was just so big – built strong like a wrestler yet also lithe and athletic. Not to mention so goddamned handsome! You couldn’t believe your luck. Some of your friends had told you that you were too young for a man like Ari. You were only fresh out of college and he was almost double your age and the CEO of one of the biggest tech companies in the country. That didn’t matter to you, though. You liked being his little baby, having him dote over you and spoil you (which he had done since the day he met you, and continued to do till this day).

And so what if he babied you all the time and made all your decisions for you? You liked giving up the control, and Ari was just so smart and level-headed, it just made sense to allow him to take over every aspect of your life.

“Your boys have been extra rowdy today.” You giggle as your husband continues to press kisses all over your face and neck, his long hair tickling you as he does so. “They keep kicking me like they want to come out already. How am I supposed to tell them they’re not due for another month?”

Ari smirks, easily picking you up with one arm like you’re a little baby yourself. His other hand is still splayed over your swollen stomach. He’d grown addicted to cupping your belly ever since the day you told him you were pregnant. It was a problem in the early days, when none of your friends and family knew yet your husband kept stroking your belly in front of them, a cocky look on his handsome face that all but gave everything away.

“I can’t wait till they come, but I also want to keep you pregnant just a little bit longer.” Ari murmurs, carrying you into the living room. He gives your ass a loud slap, the action making you yelp and clutch his muscular bicep as he grins. “You’re so sexy like this, baby. Have I ever told you that?”

“Only about a gazillion times,” you roll your eyes, but this earns you another hard slap on the ass and a warning look from your husband. You squeal, “Ari! That hurt!”

“You know not to roll your eyes at me, honey. I may have married you and knocked you up but you’re still my little baby.” Ari pats your bum and gives it a soft squeeze before kissing your cheek to make you smile. “And I’ve told you to call me daddy, princess.”

“Oh yeah, sorry daddy!”

“That’s okay, baby.”

You’d called Ari “daddy” during sex ever since he took your virginity on your first date almost a year ago. It just fit him; he took care of you so good and he was just so big and strong and dominant. Ari was really into it, always coaxing you to call him daddy – even outside the bedroom. And he’d always look so extremely smug when you’d inevitably slip and accidentally call him daddy in front of your friends and family.

But especially now that the two of you were married and lived in Ari’s big suburban mansion, he just went crazy every time he’d come home to you in your checkered apron, pregnant with his babies and calling him daddy. He’d told you once that it was his idea of heaven on Earth, and you were the one who’d given it to him.

“You have no idea how hot you look right now, baby.” Ari tells you as he takes a seat on his armchair and sets you on his lap. You’re still dwarfed by his huge size even when he’s sitting down with you on top of him, holding you securely on his knee like you’re his little baby. His gaze grows dark as he watches your breasts bounce slightly as he sits down, pink tongue peeking out to lick his lips hungrily. “I couldn’t concentrate at work, all I could think about was my baby wife, round with my children and taking care of my house in your cute little dress.”

You glance down at your dress, it’s one of many that Ari had bought for you. He had said that baby wives only ever wore dresses around the house so it was easier for their daddies to fuck them. You had absolutely no problem with that, seeing as you loved wearing the cute dresses he bought for you, and you also loved it whenever he’d slip his hand up the cotton material, or bent you over a random piece of furniture around the house and fucked the living daylights out of you.

Ari was a loving and doting husband, but sometimes he would get extremely rugged and rough with you. He’d tell you that you were his wife and it was your duty to bend over for him whenever he pleased. Sometimes, he’d watch you with lust-filled eyes while you did the housework around the house. And all he had to do was snap his fingers and you’d come running over to him.

He’d either push you down to your knees and make you suck him off till he was satisfied, or he’d bend you over the arm of the couch and fuck you fast and hard, calling you his cute little baby housewife, telling you how all your holes belonged to him only, because he was your husband and he owned you. And you’d whimper and mewl and wail and cry while he had his way with you, till he’d fill you up with his cum and then pull you upright, straighten your dress, slap your ass and send you back to your housework.

No wonder he knocked you up so quickly.

“Honey? You still here?” Ari bounces you on his lap and you blink before smiling up at him.

“Oh. Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“Why would you need to think, baby? Daddy does all the thinking, remember? You just look pretty.” Ari bounces you on his lap again, making you giggle while his eyes once more zero in on your breasts. They’re so much bigger now that you’re pregnant, and Ari has been paying more attention to them than usual. In fact, your pregnant body in general has him incensed and feral. He’s always grabbing at you and pawing at you, squeezing and groping and stroking your every curve like he can’t get enough.

He reaches past you to grab the cold bottle of beer which you’d already set out for him on the coffee table. You watch him as he takes a deep swig, admiring how handsome he is. He’s got a defined jawline covered with his thick beard that makes him look more manly and virile than ever. A gorgeous sloped nose with a cute bump on it that you love to kiss, and high cheekbones smattered with freckles. He sports a golden tan almost all year round, as well as a wonderfully beefy, sun-kissed body that you can’t get enough of.

Even now, you slip your hand up and down his hard stomach, feeling his hairy, toned abs through his cotton shirt that’s stretched taught over them. God, he really was the hottest man alive. All the women that worked for him were crazy about him, including his secretary. But Ari had told you not to worry, that you were the love of his life and he’d waited forty years to find you, and he’d wait forty more to find you again.

“Dinner’s all ready for you.” You say, pressing a kiss to his cheek because he looks so deliciously handsome and you can’t help it. “I made all your favourites, daddy. I think I’m getting better at cooking now.”

You’d struggled with cooking at the beginning of your marriage. You knew Ari expected you to be a good little housewife, but cooking was never your strongest suit. Ari hadn’t minded though, always finding it adorable when you’d sheepishly serve him burnt food that was borderline inedible. And then he’d order a takeaway and you’d both eat in front of the TV, and he’d lick the pizza sauce off the corner of your mouth before pulling you into his lap to make out.

But you’d wanted to be a good housewife for him, after all, Ari worked so hard to provide for you and he bought you whatever you wanted. He didn’t expect you to slave away in the kitchen, of course, but you figured he deserved a good homecooked meal once in a while. And so, you sifted through various cookbooks and online recipes and YouTube videos until you’d finally been able to cook something half decent. And Ari had been so proud of you when you’d served him a roasted chicken and mashed potatoes, and making you husband proud was all you really wanted to do.

Back in the present, Ari playfully chucks you under your chin, “You’re an amazing cook, sweetheart. I can’t wait to eat dinner. But I won’t lie, baby, right now I’m hungry for something else.”

His eyes go down to your chest again, and you smile demurely as thrills shoot down to your core. Ari’s big hands cup your breasts, squeezing them lewdly before tweaking your hard nipples through the thin material of your dress. You never really wore bras inside the house, and Ari was not one to complain about that. He grins wickedly when two wet spots appear on the fabric covering your nipples.

You’d started lactating recently, and Ari had been nothing short of thrilled about that. “Baby wives feed their daddies their mommy milk,” he’d told you, and of course, he was always right. You were scared at first, having him drink from you. But he’d been so ravenous, so hungry for your milk and the intimacy that came with doing something like that. How could you possibly say no?

Now, Ari fed from you all the time. It was almost a daily occurrence which almost always ended in mind-blowing sex.

Ari holds you close to him as he kisses down your neck, his hands slipping up your arms to push the straps of your dress down. Your breasts are painful and heavy as he frees them from the dress, your nipples already hard as glass but you still hiss as the cool air hits them, making them even more erect, if that was possible.

“Poor baby,” Ari coos, tweaking your nipple casually while you squirm in his arms, whimpering like a baby who needs to be tended to. That only incenses Ari more, and he gives your erect nipple a couple of flicks, making you gasp as he laughs wickedly. “Look at your sexy tits, all sore and heavy. They must really hurt, huh baby?”

You pout and nod, grabbing his forearm desperately, “Y-Yeah, they do. Daddy, plea–”

“My poor baby,” Ari continues, squeezing and groping to his heart’s content as droplets of your milk begin to leak. Your husband licks his lips, spreading the liquid all over your sore breasts, making you hornier than ever but he only smirks. “Bet you’ve been waiting all day for daddy to come home and breastfeed from you, huh?”

“Y-Yeah, please!” You whimper, jutting your chest out till your heavy breasts are almost smothering his face. And all he does is laugh, giving your nipple another hard pinch while you feel the tears of frustration well in your eyes. He reduced you to tears so easily, but it was only because you craved him so badly and didn’t like it when things didn’t go your way. He often teased you about this, calling you a needy, spoiled baby who lacked any type of patience.

Ari gives your nipple a light flick with is tongue, his blue eyes shining wickedly as your breath hitches. But then he lets out a feral growl, completely enveloping your nipple between his lips and sucking down hard. You whimper again, grabbing his hair and holding his head close to your breast as he begins to drink your milk, groaning, biting and licking at your nipple like a starved man.

“God, you have such sexy tits, baby.” He mumbles against your breasts, burying his face into them as he continues to suckle. He grabs your other tit and gives it a rough squeeze, kneading the soft flesh with his expert fingers. “And your mommy milk tastes so good.”

“Th-Thank you, daddy!” You manage to get out through all the different sensations you’re feeling. He’s still bouncing you up and down on his lap, his hard dick poking against your butt like a steel rod through his pants. Plus, his mouth working against your nipple is making you see stars, and you feel pleasure mixed with the relief from him draining the milk from your breast.

“Good girl with good manners,” Ari grunts approvingly, his voice slightly muffled as he lewdly takes your whole breast into his mouth (as much of it that fits) giving it a hearty suck while rocking you against him as he dry-humps his dick up into your clothed core. “Just like how daddy trained you to be. Fuck, baby. I bet none of my friends’ wives are as obedient and cute as you, huh?”

“N-No!” you agree with a yelp when he gives your ass a firm slap before grabbing a handful of your ass-cheek from under your dress and giving it a lewd jiggle. “D-Daddy, need you so bad!” You try to grab his hard dick out from the waistband of his pants but he easily slaps your hands away, making you pout and whine as he continues to suck your breasts.

“Let daddy have his meal first.” Ari scolds, slapping your butt again, harder this time, before focusing his attention to your other breast. He suckles you sweetly at first, before growing greedy once your milk starts flowing into his mouth. Incensed, he moans against your breast, grabbing your hips and repositioning you on top of him. He bounces you up and down straight on top of his crotch while he feeds from you, and you moan wantonly as your body begins to work itself up.

“B-But daddy, I waited all – ah! – I waited all day for you!” You pout, trying to grind down against your husband but he holds you in place, always wanting to control your pleasure and never letting you seek it out by yourself unless you had his permission.

Ari releases your nipple with a pop before grinning wolfishly down at you, a thoughtful look on his face as his hand splays itself on your belly once more. “Well, you were a good, patient baby today, weren’t you?”

“I was, I was!” He slips his hand down under your dress, quickly settling it between your legs while your breath hitches and eyes cloud over with lust and want. And all it takes is for his pointer finger to press down on your swollen, panty-covered clit and you’re cumming. You squeak and clutch on to his muscular forearms as you orgasm, your other hand going down to hold his hand in place between your legs as you hump and ride against it. Your panties are completely soaked through and your entire body is buzzing with sensitivity as you pant his name.

Ari looks extremely smug as he watches you orgasm in his lap, leaving a sizable pool of your wetness on his clothed leg. Casually, he tweaks your nipple, his blue eyes trained on your face as you gasp in response, your body twitching in his arms.

“You’re so sensitive now, baby. I bet I could make you cum without even touching you.” Ari says, looking proud and smug at the same time.

“S-Sorry,” you shoot him a sheepish look once you’ve come down from your high, “can’t help it sometimes, daddy. Specially since I can’t ever touch myself when you’re not here.”

That was one of Ari’s firm rules that you had to follow. At the beginning of your marriage, Ari made it clear that baby wives like you had to follow all the rules that your husband set. That included not speaking to other men without his permission, always doing what he said, always telling him where you were, and of course, never touching yourself without his permission – certainly never when you were alone in the house.

“Dumb babies like you don’t know how to touch yourself.” Ari answers, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he slips his hand out from between your legs, licking his fingers lewdly. “That’s why you need daddy to tend to you all the time. Now tell me, baby, how would you like to be fucked tonight?”

In next to no time at all, your big, beefy husband has you on all fours on your king-sized bed upstairs. A feral energy had overtaken him when you’d shyly voiced your desires to be fucked as hard as possible. Pregnancy made you so horny and feral for him, and in the early days he only ever allowed you on top, because he was so much bigger than you and so scared of hurting you. But soon, he’d learned to be rough in a way that had you both feeling satisfied without ever really causing you any harm.

And so, Ari had wasted no time in carrying you up the stairs, laying you down on the bed and slapping your ass as you scrambled to get on your hands and knees for him. And he’d slapped your ass once, twice, three times, and you knew he was mesmerised by how it jiggled.

“You’re so fucking hot like this, baby.” Ari murmurs, spanking you again like he can’t get enough. “Kept thinking of you like this while I was at work, bent over like a little whore in front of me.”

“Please put it in, Ari!”

“Patience, sweetheart.” He chuckles, running a hand up your spine and sending shivers all throughout your body. He presses his dick against your naked backside, and he feels so hot and pulsating. He’d torn your dress off the moment he’d entered the bedroom, and his own clothes had quickly followed suit. And now you were at the mercy of one big, horny, muscular, beefy man. A caveman, by the looks of how feral he was getting behind you. It’s like seeing your pregnant, naked body just flipped a switch in him, and his own patience was riding thin along with yours as he continues to rut against you.

With one quick thrust, Ari drives his huge dick inside you. You cry out in pain because he’s so big, and you’ll never get used to just how big he is. He’s more than twice the size of you and so incredibly well hung, and all you can do is brace yourself and take it, your whole body jerking forward from the force of his thrust. You’d have gone face first into the mattress had he not anticipated that and grabbed on to your hips tightly.

“Oh, fuck, baby, such a tight fucking hole you got. Daddy barely fits inside.” Ari’s fingers are clutching your hips so tightly, you know it’ll leave a bruise. And he’s rough from the get go, although you know he’s holding back because you’re pregnant. “God, fuck, sweetheart. You got such a good and tight fuckin’ snatch, so perfect for my dick, fuck!”

“H-Harder, daddy!” You cry, rutting back against him as your breasts bounce up and down from the sheer force of his thrusts. But your request earns you a swift smack to your bum.

“Take it how daddy gives it to you, baby.” Ari sneers, the alpha male inside of him taking complete control as his hips increase their pace. It feels like he’s ripping your insides with his hard dick but you feel so goddamn full and so good that you don’t even care, even as he continuously rains slap after slap down on your ass. “God, fuck, such a good little baby wife. Obedient as shit, aren’t you? Daddy’s little baby, gonna give me a bunch of babies, aren’t you?”

“Y-Yeah, gonna have your babies, daddy!” You agree, sounding delirious and very much like an airhead who’s only capable of repeating what her daddy is saying to her but he’s reduced you to this state through his sheer hard fucking and you don’t even care. You want it harder, want him slamming into you till you can’t catch your breath and you pass out. But you know he wouldn’t, you can tell by how he’s got one arm now wrapped protectively around your belly, as if he needs to keep it there to remind himself not to lose control like how he often does during sex.

You remember a couple of times when Ari had gone completely feral, fucking you like you were an animal. Relentless and unforgiving, leaving you with bruises and bumps as he’d had his way with you again and again. But the dark side of you had enjoyed being a cumdump for him, despite the fact that you’d cried from the pain and overwhelming pleasure. And Ari had taken you into his arms afterwards, telling you how sorry he was, how he’d be careful with you in the future, how he got too riled up and how he couldn’t help but take you roughly when he saw how sweet and innocent you looked. And then he’d always be so sweet with his aftercare, and run you a bath and dote on you and hug you till you fell asleep in his arms, smelling like rose scented bubble bath.

“Want me to knock you up again, sweetheart?” Ari asks you back in the present, fucking you so hard you’re seeing stars. His fat dick is hitting all the right spots inside you, making you arch your back as he keeps thrusting into you, hips going into jackhammer mode. “Because I will knock you up again, baby. Soon as you give me my boys, I’ll have you on your back and filled to the brim with my fucking cum so you get knocked up again. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby? Wouldn’t you? Fuck!”

“YES, YES, YES!” You scream at the top of your lungs, the pressure building up inside you till that invisible coil snaps and you cum so hard, you’re seeing stars. You collapse underneath Ari, and he has to hold you up as he continues to fuck you. But him describing how he’s going to knock you up again was enough for you to squirt all over his dick, your slippery walls squeezing his hard, fat cock that doesn’t stop its relentless assault inside you.

“Fuck yeah, baby, squeeze my fuckin’ dick!” Ari groans, using your limp body as a literal hole for his dick as he grabs your hips and makes you shake your ass on his dick, “Fuck yeah, baby couldn’t help but cum from the thought of getting knocked up by daddy, huh? Well, you gotta give me another one, honey. One orgasm isn’t enough for my baby girl.”

He pulls you up to your knees so your back is against his chest. And your body is completely limp and void of energy since orgasming had taken everything out of you, and you’re not even sure you can cum again like how he wants you to. But your beefy husband holds you up against him nevertheless, one big hand wrapping around your throat while the other cups your heavy breast and squeezes, and this whole time his hips don’t stop moving inside you. His fat dick driving in and out of you at different, varied paces. Slow so you can feel every ridge and vein, and then fast till his hips are a blur and you feel your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“You best fucking believe I’m always going to keep you pregnant from now on.” Ari growls in your ear, squeezing your tits together as he paws at you like a feral caveman, his fingers pressing against your throat and cutting off your air supply just enough for your vision to blur and it all feels so deliciously good and you’re long past the point of even being coherent as you wail and scream for him.

You can feel him losing himself, getting rougher and rougher. You know your husband too well, you know he’s turning himself on more and more at the idea of impregnating you again. His lips latch onto your neck, sucking and biting while his hands squeeze your breasts so hard it hurts, and you feel your milk dribble down your nipples.

Ari sees it too, and you swear you can feel his dick get even harder inside you. In a nanosecond, he’s manhandled you into a different position. Now, he’s sitting on the bed with you on top of him, and he’s bouncing you up and down on his dick. And oh my fucking God, it’s so much deeper this way! You can feel your puffy clit grind against his trimmed pubic hairs as he does all the work, his muscular arms wrapping around you, not caring at all that your pregnant belly is in the way as he continues to fuck up into you.

“Can’t let your mommy milk go to waste, can we?” Ari grins, grabbing your tit and latching his mouth on it immediately, sucking down so hard that you see stars. He lets go with a pop, “Guess I didn’t get all of it, huh, baby?”

You hold his head in place, carding your fingers through his brown waves as he continues to drink your milk like a ravenous beast, like he can’t get enough of it. Switching from one nipple to the other, giving both your breasts equal attention as he drains the milk from them.

“You’re so fucking hot when you’re breastfeeding daddy, baby.” Ari tells you, his voice muffled as he keeps his face buried in your breasts. And all the while he’s bouncing you up and down on his dick, and you can feel your second orgasm start to build up – and he hasn’t even cum once yet! You wonder how he remains so calm, so casual enough to have a conversation with you during sex. Meanwhile you’re a dishevelled mess on top of him, head lolling to the side as you’ve already gone dumb from all his ministrations.

“God, fuck, gonna keep you pregnant at all times now, sweetheart.” Ari declares, getting feral again as his hand splays out on your belly. “I want at least five more kids, baby. You gonna give daddy five more babies?”

“Y-Yeah! Yeah, I will!”

“That’s a good fuckin’ girl. A good fucking baby wife. I’m so glad I found you, baby. I love you so fucking much.” He kisses you, pulling you by the hair till you’re flush against him, his hips fucking up into you at a blurring pace that makes you feel like he’ll rip you in half any second now.

“And all the other guys will be so fucking jealous that they don’t have a cute little knocked up baby wife who does whatever they ask. Fuck! Tell me you’re my cute little baby wife!” He pinches your nipple harshly before going back to your belly, rubbing it with his huge hand as he clutches you so close on top of him.

“ ‘m your cute little b-baby wife!” You moan, finally finding the energy to desperately ride him, up and down and backwards and forwards, grinding against the thick steel rod that is his dick as it jams up your poor, abused fuckhole.

“Damn right you are. And I’m your daddy who knocked you the fuck up. And I’ll do it again and again, because you’re my fucking property and I can do whatever the fuck I want with you! You got that? Fuck!”

“Yeah, oh fuck, yeah, daddy, you own me! Wanna have more of your babies! Want you to keep me pregnant all the time!” You blabber incoherently.

“And you’re gonna obey me, and be a good little mommy to all our children, aren’t you?” He smacks your ass hard, once, twice, three times till your ass is sure to be raw and all the while you nod and agree with him, “A good little mommy who does what she’s told to do, and spreads her legs every time daddy wants to knock her up again, you got that?”

“Yes!”

“Fuck, sweetheart. Can’t wait to come home to you taking care of our little ones. Five of ‘em, with another one on the way. Fuck, can’t fuckin’ wait for that.” Ari grunts, his thrusts growing deeper and hitting your spot so deliciously and making you mewl, as well as his words and promises of keeping you pregnant which have you turned on beyond belief.

The pressure in your lower belly builds up higher and higher, more intense till you almost can’t stand it. And it feels so deliciously good, your pleasure mounting higher and higher as Ari continues to fuck you throw it all, holding you close and coaxing you, telling you to cum again for daddy, giving you permission to let go and cover his fat dick in your cream. And you obey, and you cum so hard, marvelling at how much of it squirts out of you.

Like a broken faucet, squirt after squirt of your cum covers his cock, and you sob and clutch at Ari’s hairy chest, burying your face in his hard chest as you cum so hard you almost faint. “Oh daddy, daddy, daddy!” you whimper like a broken record, like a baby who’s collapsed and needs to be held by her big, strong daddy.

“That’s a good baby,�� Ari coos, stroking your hair like you’re his good little girl and the pride in his voice makes you sag with relief and euphoria, and his thrusts grow sloppy as he continues to ride you through your orgasm. His fat balls slapping against your pussy, and you know his load will be big because he’s held off so long.

“Fuck, baby.” Ari lets out a guttural groan before he cums, emptying himself inside of you as spurt after spurt of his hot cum sears you from the inside out. Brands you as his as your greedy pussy squelches and swallows his seed like it’s your job. And Ari looks so proud, holding you so close to him till it hurts, like he doesn’t want a single drop of his cum wasted as he fills you up like you’re his personal cumdump. “God-fucking-dammit, your greedy little snatch is squeezing me so good, baby. Best fuckin’ pussy I ever had, taking all my daddy cum like a good little girl. Fuck, take it, take all of it!”

And you do, taking every drop of his thick ropes of cum till you feel so full, stuffed to the brim with his heavy load as you fall down, completely spent and breathing hard, on your back on the bed.

You’re completely sapped of all energy, and again you marvel at how Ari seems perfectly fine, as if he hadn’t just emptied the world’s biggest load inside of you after a long session of unbridled, hot, rough sex. But your husband seems more interested in your body in its post orgasmic glow, rubbing you all over as you rest from the fucking you’ve just received, marvelling at his cum as it drips out of your pussy.

“Looks like your baby pussy couldn’t keep it all in, honey.” Ari swipes a finger up your slit and it comes up covered in his cum. Your mouth drops open in the shape of an o, which works out in your husband’s favour as he feeds you the thick cum. Globs of it, again and again, swiping up from your pussy before he brings his finger to your lips and allows you to suckle it off him. And it’s all you can do in your weakened, post-fucked state, suckle his fingers like a baby as your daddy feeds you his cum.

“Th-Thank you, daddy.” You murmur weakly, not forgetting your manners as Ari smiles down at you smugly. Finally tearing his gaze away from your body, he lies down next to you and gathers you into his arms for a cuddle. Kissing the top of your head and all over your face as he holds you close to him, till you can feel his heartbeat in sync with your own.

“You’re welcome, baby. I love you so much.” Ari answers, looking like the happiest man in the world. And it’s such a powerful feeling, knowing it’s you who has made him feel this way.

“Love you too, daddy.” You say tiredly, cuddling close and burying your face into his hairy chest as you breathe in his intoxicating post-sex musk. “Can’t wait to give you more babies. Can’t wait for our boys to come. I’ll be the best mommy to your babies, I promise.”

Ari chuckles, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear as he gazes at you with eyes filled with adoration. His hand goes down to cup your belly, and he squeezes you so close to him, you feel you might suffocate. But in the best way.

“I know you will, baby. I know you’ll take care of my children, but right now I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

“Okay, daddy.”

He runs you a strawberry scented bubble bath, carrying you to the bathroom and getting into the tub with you. Gently scrubbing you clean and massaging your sore muscles and sensitive skin while you lie on top of him in the bath, content and barely conscious from the incredible session of fucking you’ve just received. Smiling faintly as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, promising you the world and more, his words painting the perfect life which lays in store for you in the future, as well as the perfect life you’re currently living now – all because of him.

THE END! This is my ultimate fantasy and i have no clue why i never wrote it before now! pLEASE PELASE let me know what you think! thank you very very much! love you all!

#ari levinson #ari levinson x reader #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #steve rogers #dark ari levinson #ari levinson fanfiction #steve rogers x reader

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whatswrongwithblue · 3 months

Text

Lick You Clean

The smutty companion piece of my Girl Talk series. See Part 1 and Part 2 for context. Angel Dust may have his suspicions but what is it exactly that Alastor x reader get up to behind closed doors?

TW: blood and gore, oral (both receiving), light anal play, biting, p & v, creampie, squirting, shower sex, overstimulation, tentacle suspension play. You know the drill. Rampant demon horniness. MDNI!!!

You found Alastor in the bathroom of your hotel suite with the shower already running behind him, stripping his bloody clothes off one item at a time, letting them fall into a pile on the tiled floor. By the time you stepped into the humid room, he was down to just his trousers, the scarred skin of his torso on display and covered with random streaks of red that his clothes must have left on him as he took them off. His hands and everything from his chin up were a different story. Those red and black locks of his were literally dripping blood onto his shoulders and the floor, and the bottom hems of his pants were wet enough to leave red tracks across the tops of his hooved feet.

He looked pissed off, his smile strained, his eyes narrowed, ears straight up and rigid. The Radio Demon, covered in the remains of his slain enemies, and in a visibly foul mood, as if his bloodlust was far from sated.

He looked . . . delicious.

“You’re going to have to get a better poker face,” he said after a brief glance up at you before he started undoing his belt buckle.

You frowned, confused as to what he was talking about.

He rolled his eyes at your expression.

“Angel Dust,” he explained. “Still asking questions, I see.”

“I haven’t told him a thing,” you defended.

He stepped out of his pants and sauntered over to you, his height towering over you. Even with just his black briefs on, he was terrifying. But you didn’t feel threatened, only more aroused.

“You don’t need to,” he said and tapped his index finger against the tip of your nose. “Your blushing gives you away every time.”

“You think my blushing is adorable,” you countered.

He had your jaw in his hand, his bloody grip wet and sticky against your skin, and tilted your head up. You stood on tip toe to meet his gaze and felt your face flush with desire.

“No one else needs to know the things my shadow has done to you,” he said, his voice low and warped with warning.

You only grinned like a brat and used your own hands to peel his off your face before you brought two of his long, clawed fingers into your mouth and sucked on them, licking the blood from the digits as you teased them with your tongue.

“He doesn’t know about any of that,” you say, feeling proud of the way Alastor’s glowing eyes burned brighter at the feel of your mouth on him. “But he does know what I came up here to do.”

You pressed yourself up taller, kissing Alastor’s neck and sucking on his pulse. He responded to your touch and both of you wrapped your arms around each other, pulling your bodies together as you reached your fingers into his wet and messy hair.

“I said I needed to lick you clean,” you say as you ran your tongue along his jaw line, tasting the savory blood and the saltiness of his own sweaty skin beneath the layer of thick red that was painted there.

You felt Alastor’s body shudder against you and you grew bolder, reaching between your two bodies to cup him at the seam of his briefs, feeling a familiar hardness growing at your touch.

“You just look so tasty right now,” you whisper to him, rubbing his clothed cock as you licked another path up from his cheek to his hairline. “I couldn’t hide how much the sight of you like this turned me on.”

He crashed his lips down into yours and he was bloody, even there. His tongue found yours, greedy and demanding, and you could taste the lingering essence of internal organs and flesh on him, telling you he had devoured and eaten well before returning to the hotel. It made you moan, thinking of him morphing into one of his more terrifying forms, and eating Sinners whole.

His sweet and doting nature, his attentiveness to you, and charming chivalry were what made you fall in love with him. But it was this side of him; the monster within that he could unleash on a whim, a dominating and blood-thirsty beast that could tear you in half should it ever choose to – that was what made you attracted to him in the first place.

Like you told Angel, you two were complicated.

Maybe it was fucked up, but you liked having a hand to hold in the streets and a fist to choke you in the sheets.

Those hands, messy as they were, had you undressed far more quickly than he had undressed himself, leaving your body with bloody streaks to match his own.

You trailed kisses down his body, using your mouth to clean up every sticky clot of blood as you went. His shoulders, collar bone, and chest all received thorough attention before you lowered yourself down, peppering the middle of his abdominal muscles with small kisses as you went.

Once on your knees, you pulled down his briefs and his cock bobbed free of the restraining clothes. You kissed him at his base as the underwear slid the rest of the way down his legs and he stepped out of them, kicking them behind him, before grabbing two fistfuls of your hair and guiding your mouth onto him, making you take as much of his length as you could before his tip was at the back of your throat.

You gagged for a second until you made your throat relax for him and began properly working the heavy and thick member in your mouth just the way you knew he liked.

When you looked up and made eye contact with him, you saw him smiling, pleased with what you were doing, and he loosened his grip a bit on your hair. A bloody thumb stroked your cheek for a moment, a small showing of tenderness, before he was back to thrusting into your hot and ready mouth.

The musky taste of his cock on your tongue made you salivate and you pulled away for a second to let the moisture gather at your lips before you let it drip onto his tip, and stroked him with your hand to coat the rest of his length with your spit. You earned yourself another soft moan from your lover as you used your hand to pump him at the wide base of his cock and your mouth continued to suck and caress as much as you could fit.

He was pent up and angry, full of rage and overstimulated by his lack of control over his emotions. It took him a while to cum, but you didn’t mind and took your time to let his pleasure build, knowing he had earned his right to having his dick sucked good and proper. Normally when he was this upset, he was totally touch adverse, so you were pleased that he was allowing you this and knowing him, he would be more than willing to reciprocate once he had finished.

You moaned, a lusty needful sound when he finally came, his seed hot and salty and you swallowed every bit of it, even taking your time to lick his cock clean as he began to soften and just like when you had started, you pressed another little kiss to the curly black hairs at his base when you were done.

And then he was pulling you up by your arms, making you squeal and laugh as he slammed you into the closed bathroom door, and cut your laughter short when he pressed his lips to yours and his hand into your cunt.

“You got that wet just sucking me off?” he asked, sliding two fingers through your soaking wet folds. His hands, still covered in not quite dry blood, were treating you to long slow strokes, sliding over your clit and labia and mixing your fluids with red until you couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

You were dead and didn’t menstruate anymore but that’s exactly what it looked like and when Alastor looked down at the red tinted fluid now covering his hand and your mound, wicked desire luminated his ruby eyes and he visibly salivated at the sight. You knew he wasn’t sexually attracted to you, at least not in any usual sense of the term, but he was obviously turned on by the sight of you covered in blood, just as you were him.

Without a word, he was on his knees and draping one leg of yours over his shoulder, using his tongue, now unnaturally long, to lap at your soaking wet core.

You felt the sharp edges of his teeth lightly grazing your clit, just enough to feel the threat of them, as he gave your little bud a hard suck that would have had you falling to the ground if you weren’t propped up between him and the door.

His tongue worked back and forth, circling the entrance of your dripping center and then stroking up to your clit, alternating between tongue work and hard, aggressive suction.

You were seeing stars, panting hard, and gripping onto his blood covered locks of hair like it was the only thing that could keep you anchored to this world.

Then he started tongue fucking you, letting his hot slick tongue penetrate the depths of your swollen cunt and you clenched against the muscle as it curled against that sweet spongy spot of your inner walls.

Claws traced up your inner thigh, grabbing hold of the gentle swell of muscle right before the apex of your legs, and you nearly screamed with pleasure as you felt the deadly sharp nails dig into your flesh. And then his hand was gone, trailing even further up, and with his tongue still pumping into your pussy, he pressed the flat tip of a finger against your ass, massaging your tight hole with gentle circles and you came so hard and fast the knee of your one supporting leg really did give out and Alastor had to practically catch you, his hand holding tight to your ass cheek as he braced his shoulder into the leg that he was holding up.

“Oh fuck . . . okay, okay, okay!” you begged, trying to pull yourself away from him as he chased your overstimulated clit with his tongue as you did so. You finally won, getting your leg off his shoulder and standing on your own and he chuckled, kissing the skin of your lower belly just above your mound, his hands gripping your backside as if you would try to move any farther away than you already had.

“I do enjoy the noises you make, my dearest,” he said as he stood, his lips and chin glistening with lightly tinted red fluid. He wiped a bit of it away with his hand but then you grabbed his head and pulled him down, eagerly tasting the combined mixture of your own sex and his victims’ blood on his lips.

He kissed along your jawline and down your throat, open mouth wet kisses that felt like he was both marking you and licking up the blood his hands had left on your skin.

You suddenly realized how hot it was in the room and looked over his shoulder just as he sunk his teeth into the base of your neck, a love bite that was just hard enough to break skin, making you gasp in a lung full of steamy air.

The shower had been running the whole time.

Alastor pulled away and you realized with the exception of a little bit of blood still left on one of his hands, you had managed to get him decently licked clean. Except his hair and his feet. And while you found his strange two-toned locks and hooves to be beautiful, and as kinky as you were, you were not about to suck on those parts of him.

“Shower?” you said breathily, still panting and trembling a bit from your recent orgasm.

“Ladies first,” he replied with a bow, letting one arm extend out behind him and towards the shower. His flamboyant flourish of body language was extra amusing considering he was stark naked, but his smile was as deviant and arousing as ever.

You stepped into the shower with him following close behind and you turned to face him as the hot water soaked your hair and ran down your body. Taking him by the hand, you stepped further into the shower and guided him under the cascading water. He bowed his head as you ran your fingers through his hair, watching as the torrents of water that fell down his chest and body began to turn a diluted shade of red. It spiraled in the drain at your feet and splattered on the tiled walls and you wondered if you would have to clean the shower once it was done cleaning the two of you.

There were a few chunks of clotted blood and what looked to be bits of liver and strings of torn flesh still stuck to the tip of one antler and you pulled them off, hoping they would make it through the pipes of the hotel without causing a clog somewhere.

After the thickest bits had been removed, you lathered some shampoo in your hands and worked the rest of the mess out of his hair, taking extra time on a few particularly rough strands that had become hard and crunchy. You were so focused on your task that when you glanced back at Alastor’s face your heart skipped a beat. His eyes were closed and his smile soft and relaxed as you carefully and gently cleaned around the base of his ears and antlers. He must have been enjoying this treatment in more ways than one because whenever you had to stand on tip toe and press yourself a little closer to him to reach a further spot up in his hair, you felt the warm and velvety touch of his cock against your belly, and it was getting harder by the minute.

“What happened exactly?” you asked, a teasing tone to your voice though you couldn’t help feeling a little concerned. Alastor was the single most powerful Overlord you knew but he still had his enemies.

He sighed and his eyes darted to the side for a second before meeting yours again.

“Oh it was nothing serious. I may have lost my temper . . . just a bit today. Nothing that any Sinner can’t respawn from eventually.”

You nodded, understanding, and just relieved it wasn’t something else. Alastor enjoyed violence – as did you - but he didn’t enjoy not feeling in control of himself. If he truly lost his temper over something that he later felt hadn’t warranted it, he was probably struggling over a rare moment of guilt and didn’t want to talk about it.

Knowing him, he would be looking for another outlet, either at the bottom of a glass of whiskey . . . or you.

You were satisfied he was properly clean now and you brought your hands down from his hair, putting one around his back to pull him close while the other reached for the hardness pressed between your bodies.

He sighed against your lips before kissing you, the feeling of him warm and inviting, and you got a few strokes in, feeling his cock twitching eagerly in response. But then he was grabbing you by your forearms and shoving your hands off his body, pressing you into the tiled wall of the shower. It’s coldness at your back made you gasp as much as his rough handling of you did.

Before you knew it, he was gripping your backside and your body responded, muscle memory responding faster than your thoughts did, and you jumped into his embrace, wrapping your legs around him as he supported you between himself and the wall.

With expert grace and precision built around years of knowing each other’s bodies, his cock found your entrance and quickly slid into your depths, filling you up until his hips pressed against yours and you felt the deep pressure of his tip pushing against your cervix. Even after all this time you could just barely take him and you willed your body to relax, your pussy and its inner walls still swollen and puffy with arousal from your first orgasm minutes before.

He allowed you just the first few seconds to adjust before he pulled back and thrusted forward, his claws digging painfully into your ass as he fucked you, slamming your lower back into slick tile behind you with every forward motion of his hips.

You moaned and said his name with a breathy sigh, feeling the sting inside your cunt turn to marvelous pleasure, his cock pressing hard against your g-spot with every movement, making you wet enough that even in the shower you could feel it running down your inner thighs, your slickness coating the base of Alastor’s cock every time you felt the brush of his black short curls tickling against your clit.

It was heavenly when it was like this, when you could feel his need for you burning your insides; when you knew he was fucking you for himself rather than just to appease your own desires. You got off on it enough that even if he wasn’t preoccupied with your pleasure, you still felt another coiling knot forming deep in your core as another orgasm built itself up.

You had your arms around his shoulders, mostly for balance, but without really thinking about it, you were digging in, gripping him hard enough to leave scratches.

A mistake.

Sometimes he liked that; in fact, he usually did. But you should have been able to read his moods well enough to know that was not the kind of affection he needed from you in that moment.

Cool appendages wrapped around your wrist and had the backs of your hands hitting the shower wall above and behind you before you had processed your mistake.

“Don’t touch me,” he said through gritted teeth, his words frustrated but almost apologetic, even as you felt the tentacles begin to coil down around your arms and wrap underneath your shoulders, suspending you by your arms and keeping Alastor well out of your reach.

You struggled against them but it was just for show, anticipating them tightening around your limbs more, keeping you from being able to budge even an inch in any direction. A shudder ran through you, a wave of muscles tightening from your cunt to your chest, as you felt your body responding to the restraints.

Alastor’s face was buried into the crux of your neck, his breath coming in needy, quick pants that heated your flesh and when he sank his teeth into that sweet spot where shoulder met throat, you came with a guttural cry, your moans and whimpers escaping with every exhale as your body tightened impossibly more around his cock.

He didn’t stop, didn’t slow or change his rhythm, just pounded mercilessly into you as your orgasm racked your body until you lost all control, all sense of anything else but him and his cock ravaging your insides. Alastor bit you again and overstimulation took over, and you whined and cried, almost trying to pull away but there was nowhere to go and you felt the sudden flood of your own release, squirting until both your bodies were drenched with more than just the water from the shower.

Your ears picked up the sound of one satisfied and malicious chuckle from your lover before his breath hitched and he moaned, the movements of his hips becoming shallower and erratic. Then you felt the first warm spurt of his seed inside you and his thrusts became slower and gentler as he pumped you full of his cum.

The tentacles released your arms, dissipating into thin air, a wordless welcome for you to touch him again. As soon as your skin met his shoulders, he sighed into your neck, and you felt him relax into your hold on him.

Alastor carefully let your legs down, shaky as they were, and you leaned against his strong lean form, your eyes closed and face buried in his chest.

You both stood like that several minutes, holding each other close and letting the ceaseless hot water from the shower relax your now tired and aching bodies. He rubbed your back, cradling your head to him, and kissed the crown of your hair; a silent thank you for understanding exactly what he had needed.

Then he cleaned you up, washing your hair and your body in much the same tender and carrying way you had done for him.

Once the humid heat from the shower and the exhaustion of the rough fucking you had taken became too much and you felt your head begin to spin, Alastor turned off the water and wrapped you both in fluffy clean towels.

You lay together in bed, on top of the covers to let the excess heat dissipate from both of your tired and trembling muscles, with you curled into his side.

Sleep was just beginning to claim you, your eyelids heavy and feeling impossible to lift, when you felt Alastor shift just a little next to you.

“If Angel Dust asks you if I used tentacles on you tonight, I swear I’ll kill him.”

You lifted your head to blink sleepily up at your love, and saw a mix of seriousness and teasing glint in his eyes, though his smile was unreadable as ever. You laughed softly and settled back down into his side.

“Go easy on him,” you said with a yawn as you draped your arm across Alastor’s chest and hugged him close. “He’s just jealous of me because he thinks you’re hot. He’s into Shibari so he can’t help but be a little curious.”

“Hmmff, fine,” Alastor said, though you could still pick up on a note of irritation on in his tone.

And then after another moment . . .

“. . . so what is this Shibari you speak of?”

Part 4

Tag list: @eris-norwega, @i-keepmyideals, @readergirlstuff, @thereallsaturnstar, @somefancybb, @forestfruits1, @alastor-the-radio-demons-blog

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor smut #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #alastor fanfiction #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x oc #hazbin hotel fic #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin fanfic

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luveline · 10 months

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bodyguard!james taking care of a sick girl who's just tired and in dire need of touch (not at all self-indulgent, love you angel!!)

“Is this part of the job description?”

James can barely understand your mumbling. He helps you up another step, then the last, his arm behind your back to keep you steady. “Absolutely. If I let you walk up the stairs all by yourself you would have fallen.” He slows now you're on the landing, checking over your waxy face with concern. “Almost there, shortcake.”

“M'not short.”

Whether you are or you aren't isn't the point. “You're short to me, and you're sweet. Hence, shortcake.” The hallway to your room is long and wide, a luxurious arrangement, but eventually it comes to and end, and the door to your suite beckons. “Okay, here we are. Good job, sweetheart, you made it all the way here.”

“Don't patronise me.”

He pretends he doesn't hear you. It isn't hard, you're barely talking, your face lolled to one side, the collar of your stiff shirt digging into your neck.

James pretty much carries you to the small platform that houses your bed, pulling the sheets back and encouraging you to sit. You collapse immediately downward, missing all your pillows, your breath coming in shallow pants. Your stuffy nose is stressing you out and the stairs were hard for you.

He kneels down by your legs where they hang over the edge and rubs your knee. “Alright,” he says gently. “I'll take your shoes off.”

“Don't have to.”

“Don't be silly. Can't have you sleeping in your clothes.”

“‘Cos you're such gentleman,” you whisper dazedly.

He peeks up to find you've turned your face into your sheets. You draw lazy shapes with a trembling hand over the stretch of them, somewhere else.

James unties your laces and pulls your shoes off. He kisses your knee, only stopping to think maybe he shouldn't have when he stands and your shuttered eyes have widened. He turns still as a statue, waiting for the reprimand, the (more than allowed) demand that he leave you be, but your eyes soften again and you smile at him like he's hung the moon in front of you. You're amazed.

“Poor girl, you're very poorly, aren't you?” he asks.

“I'm quite warm.”

He offers his hand. When you nod, he presses the back of it to your forehead and feels downward. You're as warm as you say, not worryingly so but uncomfortably for sure. James turns his hand, holds his palm flat to your hairline.

“If I leave you your pyjamas, can you change by yourself?”

“No.” You fluster at your own answer. “I–I don't think so. But I can sleep fine, I'll just take off my trousers.”

You can barely string a sentence together, words running together, syllables missing as your voice grows hoarse. James will figure something out, he decides, stroking near the edge of your forehead fondly. “No pyjamas, then. You'll be okay while I get you a cold flannel?”

“M'fine.”

James pushes his hands under you and manhandles you into a more regular position, a soft pillow firmly under your head, your princess sheets plump to the touch. “C'mere,” he says under his breath, moving to the collar of your shirt, “let me get that for you.”

“Thank you.”

He pops one button, a second, working his fingers under the collar to push it away from your throat. You're silent beside the struggle of breath, your nose whistling with each one.

He's struck with wanting to be more. More than your guard, and more than your friend. He'd like to take care of you intimately, crawl into bed next to you and hold you, rub your back, just keep you company while you're in pain. But he can't do any of that, and as soon as you're comfortable, he'll be back at the door. Waiting for you, like he always is.

“I'm sorry you're not feeling well,” he says.

“I feel much better now, all your touching,” you assure him, your eyes closing of their own accord. “Just… tired…”

James gives your cheek a quick hold. He straightens up, squares his stickying smile into a neutral expression, and goes to get that wet flannel for you. All your touching, he thinks, shaking his head. Maybe you'd like it if he crawled into bed with you after all.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #the marauders #marauders era #marauders #bodyguard!james #bodyguard!james potter

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lis-likes-fics · 3 months

Text

Pancakes, Bottle Tops, and Jell-O on the Side

Pairings: Spencer Reid x bau!adhd!Reader Word Count: 3.5k words Warnings: Character with ADHD, fluff :) A/N: This was supposed to be a drabble....so... I am going to go ahead and continue the bau!adhd!reader stuff because I think it's a lot of fun! ANyway, thank you and enjoy. Special thanks to my beta reader @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen

“Spence.”

His lazy hum rumbles under you as you lay on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as you both lay wrapped in the covers. It's late, a glance at the clock says nearly one in the morning.

You cross your arms over his chest, leaning up to look at his face. He looks peaceful, not sleeping but closed-eyed and slow-breathed. “I'm hungry.”

He smiles, but his eyes stay closed. “It's too late to eat.”

You shrug lazily, drawing circles on his chest. “But I want pancakes.”

He opens his eyes. “You know,” Spencer sits up, laying back against the headboard, “late night snacking is bad for digestion.”

You hum. “Is it?”

He nods. “Your metabolism slows while you sleep, so it's harder for your stomach acids to break down the food.” He presses his lips to your forehead. “Eating late at night can lead to weight gain and interrupted sleep.”

“Really?”

His hand rubs your arm. “If you need to eat close to bedtime, it's best to choose small, healthy snacks so you sleep better.”

You sit up, crossing your legs as you look at him. You set a hand on his hand, looking him straight in the eyes as you say it. “But I want pancakes.”

He laughs lightly. “Sweetheart–”

“What if we put chocolate chips in them?”

You know you’ve piqued his attention. He glances at you, his brows raised to his hairline. “Chocolate chips?” he mutters.

You almost feel bad for tricking him, but he’s too cute for that. Your smile grows as your second hand envelopes his own until you’re holding it like you’re keeping it warm. “Yeah,” you nod. “We can even eat it with Jell-O. Not, like, Jell-O on it. But, like, Jell-O on the side.” You clear your throat. “But we can also have Jell-O.”

He gives you an almost pained expression, like you’re gonna pull his arm off. “You know I love Jell-O.”

You smile your best smile. “I know, that’s why I said it.” Then you give your best pout, scooting closer to him with his hand in your hands. “Pancakes and Jell-O? Please?”

There’s a short pause as he lays his head back, sighing as he shakes his head. “You’re impossible to say no to, you know that?”

“Yay!” You erupt in smiles, pumping your fist in the air as you stumble out of the bed (and you quite literally stumble because your foot gets caught in the covers, and you fall to the floor with a thud). Spencer almost feels guilty for laughing as he asks if you’re okay, but you almost seem like you’ve hardly noticed when you get to your feet and rush to the kitchen. He takes his time following after you, but he’s becoming more and more excited about eating chocolate chip pancakes and strawberry Jell-O with you with each step he takes.

You’ve already beaten him to starting a CD, something from Mozart’s collection playing in the background as you try to reach the pancake mix from the top shelf. You’re almost certain he puts things there on purpose, especially when he comes up behind you with a hand on your hip as he easily reaches for the box and sets it next to you on the counter.

You turn to look at him, nearly swooning at the sight of him so close to you, his stupid pretty eyes and his stupid pretty face just waiting to be covered in your kisses. You settle for a peck on his chin, teasing him, before stepping around him to grab the box. He snatches it before you can, and you would pout if you didn’t know that’s what he wanted. Taking your chin between two gentle fingers, he places a very loving kiss on the very tip of your nose before he’s walking away to grab the pan. You settle for everything else, grabbing the milk and the water and the butter and the chips and whatever else is needed for your late-night snack.

As Spencer replaces the butter on the butter dish, he watches you out of the corner of his eye. He watches you pour the milk into a measuring cup half full of water, your other hand busy with tapping the counter three times. When you set the milk back down, you don’t move on until you’ve grabbed the handle with the opposite hand and let the other tap the counter three more times. You rub the condensation into your hands.

“They need to be equal, or it feels weird,” you’d said. He thinks you’re really cool.

When he’s flipping the pancakes, you’re gliding on your feet through the kitchen like you’re a ballerina. It’s as simple as you trying to stand on the very tips of your toes, and then him grabbing your waist to help you. He laughs every time you step on his feet, which makes you feel better about stepping on his feet so much.

And then when the pancakes are done, you’re waltzing with him between bites. He’s weirdly good at it, given the fact that he’s not a good dancer (neither of you are that great on your feet, but it doesn’t matter when it’s just slow dancing in the kitchen). You laugh every time he steps on your feet, which makes him feel better about stepping on your feet so much.

“Should we like…” you trail off, leaning over your plate next to Spencer’s, “...do some jumping jacks after?” You take a bite, speaking as you chew on it. “It’ll burn some of the calories, and then it won’t be so bad.”

Spencer’s smile is one of those ones that makes you feel that stereotypical “warm and tingly” feeling that settles in your stomach somewhere. It’s fond and sweet, and his eyes glitter with it. He chuckles lightly. “Maybe.” To the jumping jacks. He doesn’t much like jumping jacks.

“And then we’ll also be tired, and we can just go to sleep.”

He hums. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t need jumping jacks to make me sleepy.”

You sift through the last couple of bites left of your pancakes, turning your nose up. He can already tell that you’ve suddenly grown sick of it. There’s no way you’re eating the last two pieces. You set your fork down, gesturing to your head. “My mind is fast right now, so I may need a few.” You glance away, “On the other hand, that might make it worse…” Then you look at him. “I’m keeping you up late, I’m sorry.”

It’s almost two in the morning, and you both still have work in a few hours.

But he just smiles, loving as usual. “Sweetheart, we’re usually up late anyway on cases. You don’t have to apologize.”

You reach over, nudging his fingers with yours on the counter. “I feel like I do.” You tap your untouched fingers with his untouched fingers. They need to be even, otherwise it feels weird.

Spencer reaches over and locks your fingers together. “I promise you, I would’ve been awake anyway.” Meaning he was not going to sleep until he knew you were asleep to make sure you actually got some sleep.

“That doesn’t make me feel better.” You raise a hand to his cheek, your fingertips brushing over them and adoring the way they turn the slightest pink. “You need rest.”

“So do you,” he mumbles. “We’re staying awake together.”

There are nights where he pretends to be asleep to get you to rest. Tonight was one of those nights but when you say his name so sweetly, he has no choice but to reply.

And also, you’re a profiler. You know when he is or isn’t sleeping, you just pretend you don’t.

“Do you wanna do jumping jacks?” he suggests, gathering your plates while you’re distracted with the strands of hair misbehaving on his forehead, out of place from the rest.

“Maybe a few,” you hum.

He straightens his posture, stuffing his last bite in his mouth. “I’m going to make you some chamomile.” He already has the kettle in his hands, filling it with water to set to boil. “We can do some jumping jacks while we wait for the water to boil.”

You smile sweetly. He takes such good care of you, especially when he reaches his hand out and cups your chin so gently. “Thank you, honey,” you say as you slowly slip the plates into your hands. “I’ll get the dishes.”

He reaches for them, but you pull them closer to you, like a dragon hoarding its treasures—which is a strange simile, considering you’re talking about dirty dishes covered in his DNA. “I can do them,” he tries.

“I know you can,” you have to dance around him to get past him and to the sink. He turns the heat all the way up and leaves it, holding his hands out for the plates. You slap his hand away lightly, a teasing little swipe as you shake your head. “But I want to.”

He tilts his head, his confusion contaminated by his amused grin. “You hate doing the dishes.”

More than anything. “Yeah,” you agree, “but you’re being so nice.” You set the dishes by the sink and turn to look up at him. He’s freakishly tall, so you have to crane your neck up to see him because he stands so close. He has no sense of personal space with you, but you don’t mind it because you love him and you also don’t give him any personal space in return. “So either I fight you or you let me do the dishes.”

He sighs. “Okay, you wash and I’ll dry and put away.”

You stick your hand out to make it official. “Deal.”

“Great.” He takes your hand, surprising you when he twirls you in a clumsy circle and pulls you into his chest as you both giggle. It’s sappy and gross, like those scenes in rom-coms where they’re doing this exact thing: dancing around the kitchen late at night while they giggle like school kids because they’re so in love. You’ve always wanted this for yourself, and you’re beyond happy that you’ve found it with your Spencer.

“Thank you,” you say as you duck under his arm, taking your place at the sink as you start the water. Neither of you talk much as you scrub all the dirty dishes clean, your face scrunched in your focus, un-scrunching only when the water rinses away the suds you’ve built up on your dish. He takes it with eager hands, wiping the dish clean and retreating to put it away.

“You know,” you mutter, frowning at the way the pancake batter mixes with the water and sinks down the drain, “the jumping jacks before bed will be really good because, when we sleep after, our muscles will recover and get really strong.”

He nods, wiping at your elbow when it brushes the edge of the sink and you squirm away from the cold metal. It’s thoughtful, though it’s such a subconscious movement. “That’s correct.”

You shrug a shoulder, teasing easily. “I’m often correct.”

He laughs. It’s a big one that ruins your stoic expression. “That is also correct.” He’s proving your point, and he doesn’t mind doing it.

When the dishes are clean and put away, the kettle is whistling in perfect time as he removes it from the heat. You’re already scurrying to the cabinet to pick which mug you want to use (he already knows you’re going to pick the blue round Christmas Snoopy mug that curves in at the lip). It’s one of your favorites, like a mug-bowl hybrid that you love to cradle in your hands, especially when it’s warm.

He takes special care in making your tea while you sit on the counter next to him and watch. Your feet dangle over the edge, and you find yourself watching his face more than what he’s actually doing. He’s got eyebags. You can tell how tired he is, though he insists that he’s just always had them.

It’s partially true, anyway. When you first met him, he had those same dark circles around his eyes that gave a warning to how irregular these hours would be.

Other than his eyebags, he’s got a loving look on his face. It’s not forlorn and lost in sweet little smiles, but it’s thoughtful and content and at peace. He’s happy to stand there and make your tea, stirring the contents together with the little spoon because he knows you hate using the big ones. He’s happy to fish a single ice cube from the freezer to plop into your scalding tea so that you can actually drink it and not burn your tongue. He’s happy to hand over your mug and watch you take a tiny sip, closing your eyes and humming and giving him your softest thank you as you practically melt. He preens under your praise.

After a couple more sips, you’re pushing yourself off the counter and onto the floor, doing ridiculous stretches as you beam at him. “Okay, ready?”

Spencer lets out a huge sigh, bending down to set his hands on his knees. “Give me a second to catch up,” he says, already out of breath.

You furrow your brow and laugh. “We haven’t even started.”

“I mean mentally.”

“Spence!”

“Okay,” he straightens his posture, moving you both to a more open space as he stops in front of you. “I’m ready.”

You smile wide, “We’re going to fifty.”

“Fifty?!” he exclaims, but you’ve already started. He has to do the first five jumping jacks really fast just to catch up to you. But he’s in love with you, so he’s dedicated to these curséd things.

It’s somewhere before twenty when he speaks, already out of breath and lagging behind as his hands struggle to come as far up. You know he’s partially exaggerating, but you’re also getting tired already. “You know…” he gasps like he desperately needs water, “I hate…” another gasp, “doing these.”

You roll your eyes, tired but not as dramatic as him (currently). “I watched you chase an unsub down three blocks before and then proceed to tackle him, and you can’t do a few jumping jacks?” You don’t know where you are in the count. You forgot as soon as you started speaking, but you think you’re somewhere near thirty.

“Okay, that’s different…” He stops huffing and puffing, but he is genuinely getting tired as he breathes between words. “I was running on adrenaline…” a breath, “and I couldn’t stand straight for…” another breath, “for ten minutes after.”

It’s true. You had to hold his hand because he kept complaining that he was going to pass out, when really he was just trying to make you feel better because you had been so worried he would get hurt in pursuit. You’d been all over him worried sick, loving hands to his face and soft kisses to his forehead.

“I was so proud of you though.” You would shrug if you weren’t already busy. “Derek was impressed. Also, I don’t know where we are.”

He could have lied and said you were on 49, but he decides against it purely because you genuinely look like you’re enjoying yourself. Plus, you’re smiling. How is he possibly supposed to think straight if you’re smiling?

“38.”

You grumble but you stick it out together. And when the last counts come out (“47, 48, 49, 50!”), you are the one to huff and puff and say, “Oh, thank god.”

Spencer leans forward on the counter, gripping the edge of it as he bends all the way down to catch his breath. You skip that altogether, climbing on top of it and laying on it like a couch. You drape an arm over your face, completely limp and entirely unwilling to stand. “I hate jumping jacks,” you complain on a heavy breath.

He nods lazily. “I’m glad we agree.”

You both stay there for a while, two pathetic FBI agents who are far more capable of even more physical exertion than this has offered. Derek would tsk if he was here.

Spencer recovers first, but only because you allow him to (you don’t want to move yet, and if you act long enough then he might actually carry you to bed). He runs a hand through his hair, “I’ll put your shark in the microwave.”

This makes you forget that you’re pretending to be completely incapacitated. The shark in question is a small heatable stuffed animal named Nadia that smells like lavender. During your month-long hyperfixation on sharks, Spencer bought it for you as a gift because he thought you’d like it. He was right, as Nadia sleeps in bed with the two of you now on most nights.

You sit up, raising a slow hand in his direction as you fawn over him. “Thank you, honey.” He lets you take his hand, pulling him in to kiss him gently.

You and Spencer have been together for a while, and you’ve been saying “I love you”s for a good amount of time, but Spencer has yet to (and will likely never) master the art of casualty when it comes to telling you he loves you. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to give you a brief call over his shoulder, or a passing kiss on the forehead as he mumbles it into the side of your head.

He says it in an in-your-face kind of way that you adore. He stands so close, kissing your forehead and your lips, and really any part of your face that suits him as he grins. “I love you.” He takes care in whispering it against your lips, your mouths touching with each consonant.

You hum. “Love you, too.” His hands rub your palms, and he kisses your lips again before reluctantly pulling away to go retrieve your shark. You smile as you watch him leave, grabbing your mug and cradling it in your hands as you take small sips. You do feel tired, so at least everything is working.

Spencer is holding Nadia in his hands like a baby before he sets it in the microwave, the both of you standing side to side, bodies touching, as you watch it spin around and around and around in very slow circles. You rest your head on his shoulder while you watch. He’s afraid to move and scare you away (like he could ever scare you away).

Before the microwave can beep, you open the door. He grabs the shark from where it sat, handing it to you like sacred text. “Good?” he asks, waiting as you take the weighted stuffed animal in your hands and feel its warmth. It’s very nice.

“Perfect.”

That makes him happy.

With an arm around your shoulder, he takes you both to bed, turning off the lights as he goes. Taking one last generous sip from your tea, you snuggle in the bed next to him, and as grabby as you are, he's the one holding you like he's going to make sure you never leave.

You hold your warmed plush to your chest, letting out a long breath as you rest against Spencer. “What do you wanna hear?” he asks, already flipping through his mind palace to unlock all the stuff he knows just to lull you to sleep.

You've always insisted hearing the sound of his voice helps you sleep (in a good way, not in the “listening to you speak is a snooze fest” kind of way). He knows there's a study on it, it's scientific, but there's always going to be the tiniest part of him that doesn't believe you (though he'll entertain the idea because he loves you).

“Um…” you wonder, your mind suddenly going blank as you try to find something for him to talk about. “Give me the history of…” you shake your head, “bottle tops.”

He furrows his brow, though his grin betrays him (as per usual). “Bottle tops?”

“Yeah?”

“Why bottle tops?”

You shrug, closing your eyes and letting your finger rub into his shirt. “I don't know.”

He shakes his head like he's sick of you, though he could never be sick of you. He's surely sick with you with how dizzy you make him every time he sees you. “Okay then…” he mumbles, wondering where to start. He keeps his voice soft, but he can't seem to keep it slow.

“The crown bottle cap was invented in 1892 by William Painter–”

“Why do you know about this?”

It was partially a challenge, choosing bottle tops. Sometimes you name random things just to see if he actually knows these things, and he surprises you every time with information he's a total nerd for knowing.

He tilts his head, glancing at you. “Why do you know so much about sharks?”

You hum, laying back down. “Touché.”

He smiles. You feel his thumb stroke your shoulder, a slow and steady thing that easily makes you putty in his arms. “As I was saying,” he says, all sass but also too much of a dork to work, “the name ‘crown’ was chosen because the cap resembled the crown of the British queen…”

It doesn't take long to drift off as he speaks, his loving hands and loving voice and loving lips the perfect remedy for your overactive mind. You could listen to him talk all day.

Criminal Minds taglist: @queermaxwooo @mdanon027 @lilianhallee @hpstuff244444 @thegr8estpuff @niktwazny303 @bubbles2300 @hiireadstuff @chloelmao67 @feyresqueen @hbwrelic Tag yourself here...

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #reader insert #female reader #adhd!reader #spencer reid x reader fluff

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bigification · 5 months

Text

Careful What You Wish For

I lay the cheap looking lamp on my bathroom counter as I get ready for a bath. I can't believe I caved and bought it, it's obviously a scam. This stupid lamp isn't gonna grant any wishes, that old man just got some free cash out of me. It doesn't matter, I'll just take a relaxing bath and throw on some Netflix later.

I get undressed and run some hot water into the bath. Some scented candles set the mood for relaxation, and I throw on some music. I dip myself into the warm water, and lay back.

My relaxation doesn't last long however, as a rumbling catches my attention. It's the lamp. It's vibrating with enough force that I can feel it from across the bathroom. Suddenly a purple smoke emerges from the lamp.

"I may grant you one wish." A soft whisper echoes out of the smoke.

What the actual fuck. This isn't possible. Did that guy drug me? Maybe I should just say a wish to see if it's true.

"I wish to be a more mature looking guy who likes sports." I blurt out. I've always hated how much I look like a teenager despite being a full blown adult, so this could fix that. Also I wouldn't mind being a fit guy who likes sports, it wouldn't hurt.

The moment I say it, the smoke starts to travel towards me. All the smoke spirals into my mouth and nose. I should be scared, but it kinda feels nice. A warm feeling sprouts in the core of my body, making me feel relaxed again.

As the smoke fills my body, I feel my muscles twitching. It must be true, my body is changing. My twig like arms thicken, with bulging biceps and defined forearms. My soft hands grow twice as big and fill with rough callouses. My chest puffs out into two juicy pecs and my stomach flattens into a cut six pack. My thighs thicken as I feel my ass plump up. Even my feet look like they've grown a few sizes. I also have to start bending my legs, as Ive become too tall for the bath tub I'm sitting in.

I look at my reflection in the water and see a handsome man in his late twenties. Holy shit, I'm hot! I've got a chiselled jawline with a dark beard covering it. All my features seem more angular, more manly. As I'm observing my reflection, I notice a pelt of dark hair grow all over my body. My chest, my arms, my legs, everywhere is dusted in a coat of hair.

This is everything I wanted. Even the sports. Memories of playing sports all throughout school flood my mind. I especially liked soccer, though I also really liked weight lifting. More memories of my extensive sex life flood my mind, people are almost hypnotised by my good looks.

Just as I'm reminiscing about my past, I remember I should be working out right now. I can't skimp out on my workout routine. I go to get out of the bath and notice I've got my underwear on. Huh, I must have forgotten to take it off before getting in the bath.

As I'm stepping out of the bath, something feels wrong. A warm feeling once again fills my core. I look down and see my six pack fade under a belly of fat. It continues growing until it sags over my underwear. My pecs swell into a pair of man tits, though they still have a solid base of muscle. My arms double in size, though with a soft layer of fat now covering the muscles. My hands thicken until they look like stuffed sausages, as more rough features cover them.

I feel my underwear tighten around my waist as my ass fattens. My thighs thicken until there is no gap between them, and my feet grow many sizes. I even feel my perspective shift higher, as my height increases.

The dark hairs on my body fade to an almost white colour as the hair thickens around my body. As I'm looking down at my body, I notice hair on my head fall to the ground. I look in horror at my reflection in the mirror, I have to duck just to fully see my face. My hairline recedes all the way to the back of my head, leaving me practically bald. My once sharp facial features have softened under a layer of fat. And a double chin has formed under my beard. I look so old.

Though the more I stare at my body, the more familiar it becomes. Memories flood into my mind of my career in soccer. I was a high level player, and a popular one at that. But you age out of professional soccer in your late thirties. I started focusing more on the weight lifting and less on the cardio. There was only so long I could keep that six pack, and turning 50 certainly didn't help with that. I don't mind it though, it makes me feel more manly. And it makes the team I coach more afraid of me.

I snap out of my trance. I grab a towel and start to dry off. Damn I forgot to take off my underwear again, I should get rid of this one anyway, it doesn't fit me anymore. I duck and look at myself in the mirror.

"Lookin good coach." I say as I smile at myself.

I turn to the other side of the bathroom and step on my scale. It reads '350'.

"Damn, I've really let go of myself, huh." I say as I jiggle my gut.

I also measure my height, it reads 6"6. I should have gone into volleyball with the build I had.

I dry off and leave the bathroom. I grab a family sized bag of chips and lay my fat ass down on the couch. I open the tv and it's already on the world cup. I really wouldn't want it any other way.

#male tf #masculine #fat tf #hairy #reality change #male wg #muscle tf #male transformation #age progression

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courtingchaos · 7 months

Text

Concentrated Bliss

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

A/N: Local one trick pony wrote smut again, surprise surprise.

Warnings: blow job, talk of living in someone’s chest, swallowing

NSFW 18+ No Minors

Caught unawares lounging on his bed with a folded back magazine held over his face, eyes squinting in the dimming light at the article he’s been reading, he doesn’t hear the creak of the chair in the corner. Pleather rubbing against loose metal while you slink off of it like you’re made of putty. Feet pushed back when your knees hit the floor quietly and you drop onto your hands to crawl on all fours, shoulders dropped to keep your head out of his line of sight while you pick through the detritus on the floor, your approach silent and unannounced.

He shifts on the bed, a dropped knee that opens up his hips and creates the perfect divot for you to rest your ribcage in. “Did you know Motley Crue have a fucking Lear jet?” His head rolls side to side in disgust. “Assholes.”

Your low hum doesn’t register, instead he just keeps reading and scoffing, his foot bouncing to background noise in his head. It’s a broken rhythm that he taps out and if you aren’t mistaken you can almost sus out the drum beat to When Doves Cry. A soft rhythmic press of his tongue to the roof of his mouth confirms when you catch a piece of the bridge and you have to stifle your chuckle. It’s for naught though, his attention laser focused so that he doesn’t feel the dip of his mattress when you start crawling up.

“Heavy metal my ass!” The back of his fingers smack the rolled spine hard. “I don’t know why I waste my money on this shit sometimes.” He says, bringing it closer to his face to keep reading. You’re almost at your destination now, his zipper straining at the pull of his splayed legs beckoning you closer. It takes your hand sliding under his ass to plant yourself fully before he looks down finally.

“Oh.” A smile with dimples that look deeper in the fading sunset. “Hello. When’d you get here?” The magazine is forgotten over the side of his mattress, lost in all the other forgotten things behind him, that hand tucking behind his head while the other one lays soft on your cheek.

“I was stalking over here for a minute.”

“I was so engrossed in hating Vince Neil I wasn’t paying attention, I’m sorry.”

“No it’s okay.” Your jaw fits in the valley of his hip too well, the back of your head leaned against his propped up thigh. “I was trying to be sneaky.”

“Mission accomplished.”

Under your cheek you can feel the warm press under his jeans and the slowly growing heat of his attention. Nuzzling into rough cotton makes him let out a long breath that turns into a hiss when he sees you bare your teeth momentarily.

“Hey, hey gentle.” He tenses for a pinch through his pants but it doesn’t come, your teeth instead biting around a belt loop to pull at it like a dog with a toy.

“Help me out.” Is mumbled around fabric that you drool on a little bit before that hand on your face drifts to his button. You pull at the slack as the button slips free and his zipper inches down with your enthusiasm.

“What are you up to?” The smile in his voice betrays his knowledge of exactly what you’re doing.

“Looking for my keys.”

“Oh they’re like, way in there.” He snaps the waistband of his boxers before sliding that hand back along your cheek, calloused fingers catching along your hairline. “Might need to nose around a bit.”

Propping yourself up on your elbows gives him a view of the very top of your cleavage from under a worn and stretched out collar. Skin pressing against skin while you get comfortable and he knows how warm it is in there; soft when he dips his fingers between to explore and leaves a trail of goosebumps behind. Right now though he keeps stroking fingers through your hair and watching you through half lidded eyes as your fingers crawl up his pelvis to loop over the elastic band.

Pulling down reveals your first prize, a dark thatch of hair that you mimic his movements in, fingertips scratching lightly at slightly ticklish skin. The hand behind his head grips at the base of his skull, a flex of his forearm that you don’t notice just like his bottom lip getting consumed more and more. Teeth peak out between reddening lips as he chews, a roll of a tongue outward to wet them, almost as if he could taste you on the air.

Your sole focus is on him right now but not him. Not his face and his hands grappling for gentle purchase along your cheek and his own neck. Not his body that’s become flush under your frame, tacky in the joints that are still clothed, heat that rises from his chest and up his face to his ears. You’re focused on him in this other way that makes him feel bashful like he’s a kid again and fumbling around in the dark. It makes his toes curl in his socks and his thighs tense around your arms the slower you pull on his pants. Anxiousness ripples in his belly with every puff of air you huff out in private glee, the small smile lighting up your face the closer you get to undressing him making him taut.

You find delight in him and that makes him nervous. There’s no way you look forward to this but, “all day sometimes” as you’d previous stated and as always you aim to prove him wrong. He lifts his hips almost unconsciously when you tug harder and suddenly the air is cool against his overheated skin. You drag a fingertip from coarse hair to the base of him and drag it up the velvet soft skin, touch light and fixated as you run over the ridge of the head. His own nails dig into his scalp now, his lip left forgotten to hang with his jaw in a silent gasp.

You look up and he swears you’ve got a mouth full of teeth meant to tear and rend under that deep grin. Your eyes glint in the near dark and if you ate him alive right here tonight he’d go without a fight. A monster snuggles between his legs to paw at him and all he can do is melt into the mattress when you roll out your tongue. Just the very point of it licks a thin stripe back down to bush and before you can pull away he’s pressing a thumb to the flat of the muscle to feel it wiggle. It wraps around and sucks him in, runs along the ridges on the pad and you keep your eyes glued to his however hazy his vision gets.

He tries to say something but there were never any words there to begin with, just an open maw breathing heavy. Fixated on your mouth that still descends towards his cock even with his thumb still trapped between your teeth. He’s stuck under your hands that lay flat on his hips to hold him still and give you something to leverage yourself on. Your nose runs down the little bit of exposed thigh before the edge of your lip grazes his shaft and he pops his thumb free. A gasp felt more than heard and he feels drunk suddenly as that thumb finds its way into his own mouth as yours descends on him fully.

A blow job is a blow job is a blow job, but there’s something about you specifically that makes him whimper into his palm. He bites down on the thumb in his mouth that tastes like you and can’t take his eyes off your fingers digging into his naked hips. Short nails drag lightly like your lips do when you pull up and already his propped up thigh shakes. With every pass of your mouth the air feels colder on his wet skin and he feels a loss deep in his chest for something strange. He jokes about crawling into your ribs sometimes to set up a home and maybe this feels similar but there’s perversion in this urge. Something animal that ignites in his skull and drives him toward you and your roving mouth. That tongue that inches out ahead of your lips to taste and teeth that drag light yet dangerous across sensitive skin. Your lips hold him in place when you smile around your mouthful and flick your eyes up to assess your damage.

He thinks about bucking up, chasing the heat of you to sate that base need for more. He thinks about you sinking your teeth into him to leave your lovers mark on the inside of his thigh. When you dip your head again and swallow around the length of him his eyes roll back before he can finish his thought, hands sliding down to card through your hair. He doesn’t guide you, as if you needed it, he just needs to touch wherever he can. His nails scratch your scalp and you hum around his cock, a deep purr that has him gasping to his ceiling and squeezing his eyes shut. Your tongue slithers hot against him while your hand finds its way into his boxers and you’ve got him pinned under your pleasure.

It only takes a gentle squeeze before he’s trying to pull your head up, small whispered ‘hey’s’ that trail off when you pick up speed. Again you catch his blurring vision and he sees your determination to have him desperate and boneless and who is he to deny you what you’ve worked so hard for. He babbles in the mounting pressure ‘I love you’s’ and many ‘please please please’s’, whimpers as the coil tightens and snaps against your onslaught.

Knees collapse against you to hold you close as one hand gets tangled in the ends of your hair and the other blindly grabs at the pillow behind his head to pull it over his face. He breaths heavy and fast when you don’t slow down and when you keep swallowing around him and when your hands keep roaming into sensitive valleys to press and grope. His brain turns to vapor and his thoughts disappear, leaving only room for you and your blessed heat.

You know when he’s had enough and you string him along for just second more while his thighs shake around your shoulders. He only pushes the pillow off his face when it feels like his oxygen is getting thin and he gets that first glimpse of your face post reckoning. A self satisfied smirk and a run of your thumb along that reddened bottom lip. It sings to him in the full dark now and when he gets his strength back he’ll manhandle you up to his mouth to steal your kiss. For now though, “You are a wonder.” His voice cracks and you smile, nestling your head back into the valley of his hip. A light fingertip traces softening skin with a curious glance and a deeper grin than before.

“I do try.”

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson Fic #Eddie Munson Smut #Eddie Munson x Reader #My Fic #My Work

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marthawrites · 10 months

Note

first of all choose to ignore this if you're not up to it but i would LOVE some aemond x reader tiddies sucking/worship with a whole pussy eating and pussy fucking.. dirty talk always appreciated btw!! AGAIN feel free to ignore im just an aemond and tiddies sucking sucker <3

Hello sweet anon! Are you still with me? I hope you are ♥ I apologize for making you wait since July for this request. If you are still around, I sincerely hope this fic does the trick - mwah!

Morning Lovebites Lead To Sweet Dreams

Aemond Targaryen x wife reader

Word count: 2.9k+

About: You and Aemond share a morning bath and the lingering sensations last with you all day. When he returns to your marriage chambers later than usual, you're sad you might sleep through his return. Once in for the night, however, he makes up for it.

Includes: It's in the request! This is all smut. Featuring breast play, nipple play, biting, hickies, unprotected vaginal sex, minor pain play, reader receiving oral sex, sweet talking, some dirty talking, possessiveness, and minor breeding kink

Note: Hello lovely reader! While this fic has elements of breast worship, there is no descriptions to breast size. That is entirely up to you! All tiddies are good tiddies in this house! Reader is implied to come from a noble House but is unspecified. As always, reader is non-descript. Please, enjoy!

“Every woman is the image of their mother and to be spoken of with reverence,” Aemond’s voice rasped into the smooth skin of your neck as he gathered your hair into his gentle grasp, moving it over one shoulder to expose the full length of your bare neck and shoulder to him. He trailed the tip of his nose over your delicate skin as if he could smell the very blood that pumped through your veins. Goosebumps rose on your skin and he smiled silently at the sight. “Mm… my lovely wife. So sweet and still so sensitive for her husband’s touch,” he murmured again, both his hands feeling up the front of your slippery body. “Every day the urge to thank your mother for making you grows greater,” he said as he gently squeezed your breasts, their softness and warmth already making his cock swell against the small of your back.

Despite the many turns of moon you’d been married, the temperature of his baths still made you hiss upon entering. Yet, you gasped softly at the sensation of his hands. He was warm; always so warm. Your skin bloomed with the tub's heat, and the humidity of it caused little curls to form in the fine hairs of your hairline. “You’ve thanked my mother and father for my hand many times, husband,” you answered sweetly. “So much so that they cannot believe I’m not carrying your child yet,” you added just as sweet, leaning back against him to further press your breasts into his palms.

He peppered kisses – open mouthed and nipping – over your neck, looking down the front of your body. He loved your breasts from every angle, but there was something extra delicious about seeing them from this angle. He pinched your pebbled nipples gently and rolled them between his fingers. “It’s not from lack of excitement or trying,” he said, smirking.

“A-ah! Aemond..! You make them sore when you do that,” you half whimpered, feeling an entirely different type of heat begin to pool between your thighs.

He tugged your nipples forward until they snapped out of his grasp, reveling the way your soft flesh rippled with the motion. “Then I shall kiss them all better.” He pinched them again, firmer this time, and rolled them anew.

You choked out a little sound and giggled. Reaching around your back, you grasped his now fully hardened length and slowly pumped along it. He exhaled the loveliest noise and you gripped him firmer. Stroking him, you turned your head to look back at him with half-lidded eyes. “I need you, husband, before our day’s duties begin.”

He caught your lips in a searing kiss and licked into your mouth with lustful hunger. His cock twitched when you moaned in response, returning his kiss with just as much fervor. Wasting no more time he gripped your waist and helped turn you around so you were facing each other. He looked up at you – the intense hue of his natural eye and his darkly beautiful sapphire stone – while gripping firmly onto the swells of your chest. “Ride me, wife. Show me how much you need your husband’s cock.”

With a shift of your hips you sunk down his length, your walls stretching wonderfully around him, until there was no more of him to take. You ground on him, bounced on him, and did it all again, until water sloshed out messily from the tub and the room filled with sounds of your shared pleasure.

All the while Aemond never gave your breasts rest. He laid his face between them, kissed them, suckled them, squeezed and pinched them. New lovebites decorated your tender flesh – pinks and purples and fading bitemarks – which he made sure to tenderly coat in oils before your ladies appeared to help you dress.

When all was said and done you both had little curls along your hairline. You kept yours with pride, whereas Aemond took extra time to smooth them out.

The day’s duties seemed as if they'd never end. All you wanted was your husband. If you had it your way you would say fuck his duties, fuck your duties, and laze about all day in bed with your dragon prince: eating cake, perfectly ripened fruit, and drinking sweet Arbor wine. All those little lovebites he left behind burned pleasantly reminding you of your shared bath. Warmth filled your lower belly as you became lost in those daydreamy memories. The rest of the day went by in a carnal haze.

Night had fallen and Aemond still hadn’t returned.

What on earth was he up to?

Unsure of the night’s plans, you finally dismissed your last servant after they stoked the fire and added more wood to it. You sat in front of your vanity, now, slowly brushing braids out of your hair. You removed jewelry piece by piece and placed them in your jewelry box. As far back as you could remember you had a taste for shiny and pretty things. Even as a young girl you loved receiving a new necklace, or bracelet, or earrings instead of toys or other things for nameday gifts. As you grew older those tastes never wavered. After marrying Aemond he made sure to adorn you in the finest things. Pearls, emeralds, rubies. But, his favorite were sapphires. They become one of your favorites, too.

It was quiet except for the fire’s crackle and with each passing minute you found yourself growing more drowsy. Just when you thought you might doze off while reading in bed, the heavy wooden door of your marriage chamber opened. “Husband! I thought I might not get to see you before sleep overcame me,” you said a little tiredly, whole face bright upon watching him close and latch the door. “I’ve missed you terribly.” Once you caught sight of his expression, however, your brows furrowed in worry. “What’s the matter?”

He sighed a long sigh, beginning to remove his clothing. “I had heard of Aegon and his growing… depravities, but I hadn’t expected them to be so… shameful. He disgraces our family name by what he does in the underbellies of Flea Bottom.”

You gulped. “What did you discover?”

Aemond shook his head while stepping out of his boots. “Nothing you need to fret about tonight.”

“I am Targaryen now too, and I wish to know what is happening,” you retorted.

“Not now. You say you missed me terribly? Well, I assure you I missed you more,” he said, walking in long easy strides to you on bare feet. He’d removed everything except his pants which were unlaced in the front. The casualness of it had your belly stirring, and the sight of his long, lean body flexing toward you had your thighs pressing together. “I didn’t have enough of you this morning…,” he rumbled against your mouth as he shadowed above you, gently pushing you onto your back once more. He laid on his side beside you, kissing you mouth again and again until your little tongue slid against his mouth. He groaned, deepening the affection, while his hand pushed up your thigh, tugging your shift up with him as he went.

“More? I’m not so sure about that,” you giggled, nipping at his lips. “Every little mark you left on me has been aching all day. A good ache. I’ve been needy for you all day, husband,” you purred, hooking one of your legs over his waist in an attempt to pull him closer into you.

He groaned somewhere deep in his chest and rolled atop you effortlessly, pinning one of your hands above you head as he loomed above you. The silver of his silky hair glowed with highlights of orange from the fire and candles in your room. His eye bore into your own, blazing, as a smirk etched itself across his angular features. “My good little wife has been aching and wet for me all day? My, my, darling…,” he crooned, kissing your jaw, neck, and throat.

“You’re torturing me,” you said, desire flaring wildly in your core.

His free hand pushed your shift higher; thighs, smallclothes, belly, breasts, all revealing themselves to him. “Lean up and take this off,” he half growled. You did as you were told and in a flurry of motion he tossed it off the edge of the bed. “Your skin is loveliest covered in my marks,” he mused aloud as he tilted his head, inspecting the fullness of the front of your body. “My perfect girl.” His hand pushed up the front of you, splaying wide as to touch all of you that he could, fingertips grazing over your bitten and sucked flesh. He pressed down on those lovebites. Testing the bruises; testing you.

“Ah-h!” You gasped, squirming beneath him. “Not so hard!” You whined with pleading eyes.

A satisfied sound rumbled up from his chest. “So they are tender…,” he whispered, grinning, as he continued to gently push down into each bruise. “My poor girl,” he said, dipping his head low to kiss over each mark, now, making sure to pay extra attention to your pebbled nipples when he passed over them. “I had to make sure you were telling the truth. So far, half of what you said is true. As for the other…,” he mumbled around mouthfuls of your titflesh, greedy lips unable to leave your pretty nipples for long.

The pleasure of his mouth soon made you forget about the pain of his touch, but it was that pain that made your pleasure all the sweeter. You arched beneath him, free hand sliding down to card through his silken hair. “I think your wetnurse half starved you as a babe for how much you latch onto me,” you teased, sighing in bliss as he drew your nipples into his mouth, suckling and working his tongue over them.

“Must have,” he smirked, the stiffened peak of your nipple glossy with his saliva. Finally letting go of your wrist, both his hands lowered to untie the ribbons around your waist so he could tug your smallclothes down with no restraint. He did, and then he gently parted your legs. Between your thighs your sweet little cunt glistened with arousal. He couldn’t tell if his cock swelled to impossible hardness first, or, if his mouth watered first. “Look… at… you…,” he said slowly, possessive eye feasting on the sight of your bared cunny.

“Aemond…,” you whined as blood rushed to warm your cheeks – the intensity of his gaze made you uncharacteristically self-conscious.

“You are lucky, my dear. Lying to your prince comes with severe punishment. You, by the grace of the Seven, have told the truth,” he said as he lowered to lay on his belly between your legs. He lifted one to gently hook over his shoulder and held the other down, keeping you nice and spread out beneath him. “If you were indeed sleeping when I returned tonight, I intended to wake you in this same manner,” he said as he looked up at you, the outside of his seeing eye crinkling with mischief.

The warmth in your cheeks spread up to your ears, but before you could say anything in reply your husband dragged his tongue up through your eager folds. You moaned softly at the heat of his mouth, and he moaned at the taste that coated his tongue. He could never have enough of you: he told you often. “Gods- Aem-,” you whispered through shuddered breath.

It was impossible to say if you enjoyed this more, or if he did.

By now Aemond knew what you liked, how you liked it, and knew when to increase or ease his pressure on you. He learned wickedly fast – faster than you discovered your own pleasure some of the time – and strove for perfection, always wanting to be better than those around him. He licked, and lapped, and sucked, losing himself in the unique taste and texture of you. “You'd like to be woken up like this, wouldn't you?” He asked, slowly kissing and licking over your bud as to not push you too far too fast.

The thought alone made you squirm against him; cunny seeking to grind against the plushness of his mouth. “Y..yes,” you answered quietly.

“Mmm… I knew you would. I will have to try it one day. Licking and stroking this sweet cunt just enough to not wake you.”

You clenched at the idea knowing he meant it. “My cruel prince…”

He laughed lowly before delving into you again, tongue disappearing into your clenching center. Even around that little muscle you were tight. You always fit around him so perfectly. The sounds he made between your thighs were lewd. Dirty. Any other time or place you'd feel filthy. But with it being Aemond, the lasciviousness of it nudged you to the edge of your pleasure. One of his hands pushed up the front of your body and he palmed over a breast, squeezing the mound inside his palm. A finger of the other pressed into your soaking core while he lavished your clit with tongue and lip alike.

“I'm gonna�� ‘m gonna..,” you moaned, whimpering as you rolled and ground your pelvis in time with all of his motions, seeking out more and more even though he was already giving you everything he knew you needed. Both hands flung down to his head and you shamelessly held him right there, fingers flexing and tugging at his hair.

Aemond moaned against you. Early in your marriage you discovered his scalp was exceedingly sensitive and you loved using it to your advantage; whether he purred, or moaned, or whimpered.

“Let go, sweet wife. Give me your pleasure,” he mumbled against you, suckling gently on your pearl while working two fingers in and out of you, rubbing that small hidden patch of nerves with perfect precision. He squeezed your breast harder, pinching at your nipple, and the combination of everything became too much. You came undone against him. Orgasm washed over you in waves that left you weightless; the sounds of your release sent your husband rutting against the mattress.

“So good.. fuck that all felt so good,” you babbled down at him; heavy eyes darkened by lust and sparkling in adoration.

Your praise sent Aemond's desire blazing to an inferno and he didn't even let you catch your breath before he kicked out of his pants and lined his cock up with you. “Such a needy greedy girl. Wet all day… humping my face like a bitch in heat… begging to be stuffed full by her husband again,” he growled lowly, pushing the underside of your leg up so it squished against your chest. “And all of that for me,” he said firmly, darkly, grinning down at you like a hawk swooping a bunny. With a flex of his slim, lean hips, he pushed into you.

You gasped, squeezing at his strong arms as he plunged into you. His name rolled off your tongue in yet another stuttering moan, eyelids fluttering with the force of his intrusion. You nodded wordlessly, looking up at him with desperate eyes.

“Mine… all fucking mine,” he said in that same tone, punctuating his words with long, firm thrusts. “My perfect wife. My wet cunt. Mine to fill, and use, and fill again.”

The force of his thrusts sent your tits bouncing. You cried out in bliss, your first orgasm making your body extra sensitive to his slamming hips. He drove home again, and again, and again, his balls slapping against you with every plunge. “Yes.. yes.. yes,” you babbled.

“So lovely like this. So beautiful when I fuck you. If only you could see yourself all dazed out on my cock,” his angle and pace changed and now he bullied that inner patch of nerves with each forward push and outward pull.

You wrapped your legs around his slender waist and pulled him deeper into you. “Right there,” you panted, nodding, sheened with sweat and glowing with delight.

Both his hands squeezed and held onto your breasts, fucking you just as you asked him to. “Come with me. I want your cunny sucking my seed all the way to your pretty little womb,” he muttered, clearly holding himself back as long as he could.

That's all it took for you to find peak. Euphoria washed over you in glorious waves of ecstasy, making your body shudder and tremble around him. Your walls flexed and convulsed around his twitching cock in a visceral plea to finish deep inside.

Aemond didn't stand a chance. He groaned out your name and filled you passed the brim. Slowly his seed oozed out from around the base of his length while he kept it buried inside you, heavy drips of your combined essence sliding down the swell of your ass. You panted together, foreheads pressed together, and only began to pull apart once pleasure spent its course in both your bodies.

“You are the most enchanting thing,” Aemond whispered to you with a gentle kiss to your lips.

“Hold me as I sleep?” You asked with heavy eyes, already feeling tiredness creep over your senses.

He smiled, the expression intimately sweet, as he moved to lay on his side beside you. “Of course,” he answered, pulling you flush against him. With another quiet smirk he lifted your leg to rest over his waist and lowered a hand between your bodies. Carefully, he slipped two fingers into you. “Shh…,” he hushed when you made a noise of discomfort. “Only to keep my seed where it belongs.”

You blushed but didn't say, or do, anything in protest. “Sweet dreams, my prince.”

“Sleep well, my lady.”

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

To be added or removed from the taglist, hit me up!

Masterlist

Main Taglist: @watercolorskyy @melsunshine @girlwith-thepearlearring @arcielee @barbiedragon @aemondtarqaryens @chompchompluke @fan-goddess @schniiipsel

Aemond Taglist: @darylandbethfanforever9 @bellaisasleep @aemondsblog @khaleesihel @sirenofavalon @doublesparrows @aemonds-fire @nikstrange @abbyandizzysmum @aemonddtargaryen @lost-and-founds @castellomargot @okfashionista @avidreader73 @snh96 @boofy1998

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aemond fic #aemond imagine #request

841 notes · View notes

nova-amor · 8 months

Text

MDNI. you’re in a toxic situationship with your fav. 780.

“look at you,” his voice was raspy in your ear, the warmth of his breath fanning across the thin skin of the back of your neck. his frame had consumed you, towering over you as he adjusted you into his desired position. the tip of his shoes nudged at your heels, forcing your legs further apart to accommodate for his size. “look at well you take me, baby— cunt’s practically milking my cock with how tight ya are.”

your eyes drifted down the image of your reflection in the mirror, his own gaze remaining pinned to your face. you drank it all in, the sight of it making you feel hotter and your pussy grow tighter around him.

it was so lewd— he had barely waited a moment after you had arrived at his flat before pouncing on you, sinking both claws and teeth into you. he had been quick to bundle the hem of your skirt up to your waist and tug on your chest until your breasts spilled out the front.

he hadn’t even bothered to remove your underwear before mounting you, simply pushing the soaked fabric to the side as he slid his length into you without prep. he was going to fuck you now and then at the entrance of his apartment with his mounted mirror as a witness to his greed.

one of his hands pawed at the soft flesh of your chest as he fucked you, pinching and gripping at your tits until they were sore and aching while his other remained planted at your side. his grip on your side was gentler than usual, just enough to keep you in place without bruising the delicate skin underneath.

“don’t you think you look beautiful?” he questioned lowly, his hips slowly retracting from yours before knocking back into you like a spring. your grip on the wall fumbled from his deep thrust, bare feet shuffling against the cold wooden floor as your legs struggled to support your body weight.

heat blossomed across your face as his hand drifted up from your chest. his thick fingers caressing the delicate skin of your throat before curling under your jaw. he then tilted your head a bit back, just enough for you to feel the thickness of your spit sliding down your throat as his gaze burned into you.

“my beautiful girl, so perfect for me,” he purred, the rough pad of his thumb stroking the curve of your jaw. a needy moan left your lips as his cock dragged against your gspot. another soft whine escaped you when he pressed a little kiss to the side of your forehead, the tip of his nose nudging at your hairline as he did so.

your half-lidded eyes drooped close at the affection, your body light and warm all around. he was rarely this affectionate with you, rarely displaying his love and appreciation. but, whenever he did— god, did you savor every second of it.

“don’t look away, baby, keep those pretty eyes on me.” he cooed, the short strokes of his cock digging deeper into you. you could feel every inch of him, cunt clenching harder and harder around him to get him to stay. you needed him to stay. when your eyes opened, he gave you a heart-stopping smile, another rarity in your relationship. “atta girl.” he praised.

“keep your eyes open, and watch me. i want you to watch me take care of you, baby,” you swore you were on cloud nine. his kindness and love were almost too much for you to handle. tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, the salt of it burning and blurring your vision. and, with the swipes of his thumb, he wiped them away. “don’t cry, pretty girl,” he spoke softly, his voice calming you. “what’s got you crying?”

“you—” you gasped as his cock found home against your cervix, his balls resting against the underside of your ass. you could almost feel him in your throat. “you’re never this nice t’ me, never— i shouldn’t be cryin’ but—” he was quick to silence your plea.

he pressed another kiss to your temple, mumbling a soft apology against your head. “i’m sorry, baby, i’m so sorry,” he whispered. “i’ll treat you better— lemme make it up to you, lemme take care of you.” but you knew it was another lie, as soon as he had gotten his fill, he would be kicking you back out again.

“okay,” you mumbled, earning another kiss from him as he began to rock his hips again. this would be the last time, you told yourself, the reflection of your gaze scorching you. the last time he would be able to use you.

toji fushiguro, satoru gojo; eren yeager, erwin smith, reiner braun; kentarō kyōtani, kei tsukishima, atsumu miya; any of your favorites ♡

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harmfulb1tch · 7 months

Text

Sweetie, I love you

Ship: Alastor x wife!reader

Warnings: slight mentions of sexual relations, other than that, tooth-rotting fluff.

Summary: After-care and pillow talk with Alastor, after a date for your anniversary.

———————

You and your husband had just arrived from date night in cannibal town. You had been married for 95 years, that day being your anniversary. The night had been perfect: flowers, dinner at a nice restaurant and then dancing. When you arrived at the hotel, you were feeling a bit… frisky. When you and Alastor arrived at the hotel, he made love to you. You knew he wasn’t one to particularly enjoy that kind of acts, but he did so anyways. You always theorized that when you two had sex, it was more about the power he had over you than actual pleasure. You didn’t mind, but today it seemed different. Instead of his dominant nature, it was softer, fuller of love. You knew that Alastor loved you, but that feeling never transcended to the bed.

Now, you were laying on your tummy, just wearing a pair of black panties. Your body was covered up to your waist with the duvet. Alastor had gone to the bathroom after cleaning you up to leave the towel he had borrowed. You were almost asleep when you felt the mattress shift. You then felt your husbands clawed hands softly caressing the back of you bed. You turned your face to him, looking him in the eyes.

“That felt amazing Al…” you said softly, sighing at the feeling of his hand going up and down your back. A smug grin spread across his face and he laid down next to you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

“That’s very good to know, my love…” you loved his voice. The staticky sound of it relaxing you further. You kissed his nose sweetly.

“Thank you, for… you know…” you said, a blush spreading across you face. He chuckled softly and stroked you face.

“You’re welcome, my dear” he said, kissing your sweaty forehead.

“I love you, you know?” you had told him everyday since your first date, but it never grew old. A soft smirk spread across your face.

“I know, my dear. You remind me of it every day… “ A blush spread across your face to his words.

“S-sorry Al… for being annoying… I just really do!” You stuttered, suddenly really nervous.

“No need to apologize, dear! You know I love it…You actually make me feel quite the special man!” He said in his jolly, radio voice. You turned and laid on his chest. He smiled softly at this and wrapped his arms around you.

“Hey… Al?” You said. He was almost asleep already and his heart skipped a beat at the sound of your voice.

“Yeeeees?” He responded.

“When did you know you had fallen in love with me?” That question made his eyes grow a bit wider. He wasn’t expecting the question, but answered confidently.

“I’m not actually quite sure! I remember always thinking you were the prettiest girl in New Orleans when we were alive. You looked ethereal in my eyes. But I cannot pinpoint the moment I actually started loving you. I think one day it just… happened. I do remember a specific moment when I realized I had fallen hard for you. It was the day we went dancing to the bar near the radio station. It was pouring like crazy. I lent you my coat so that lovely dress of yours didn’t get wet. I was escorting you home when you fell into a mud puddle, you got soaked! Remember?” You nodded, fondly remembering that day. “I laughed at the fact you were soaked and then, you pushed me down and I got soaked as well. And even so, I have never felt as attached to you as I do now. If I could marry you all over again just to spend a whole day with you, I absolutely would” he finished. You were almost in tears.

“Really? If you had to do it all over again, would you have married me that day in New Orleans?” You asked so you could keep hearing his beautiful words.

“Yes, I would have… If I could turn back in time, I’d marry you all over again, no doubt about it…” with that, he kissed your hairline. You sniffed a little bit, having been moved by his words.

“I love you, sweetie…” you said, hugging him closer.

“And I you, dearest” he pecked your lips.

After that, you fell asleep in his arms. To the feeling of his hands on your hair, and the rhythmic up and down of his breath.

#fanfics #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor fluff #Alastor x reader fluff #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon

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seokgyuu · 9 months

Text

growing up with heeseung, jay and sunghoon you never once imagined them being anything more to you than your childhood best friends - and to some extent you're correct: they remain your gross boy best friends up until college, when suddenly things start to feel different. with all of them.

✧ heeseung x fem!reader, jay x fem!reader, sunghoon x fem!reader ✧

✧ childhood friends to lovers, fake dating trope, college setting, story begins in childhood and leads us through all the important phases ✧

✧ this work contains: intended lowercase, poor tries at comedy, simp!hee, simp!hoon & simp!jay as well as very oblivious reader, jake as the first ever boyfriend, hanni, chaewon and beomgyu have a cameo ✧

✧ warnings! mentions of bullying, smut (MDNI), more to be added if needed. ✧

hi! for my very first enha fic I have decided to open a taglist! You can join it by sending me an ask, so that I can keep track.

taglist: open

current word count: 4k

estimated word count: 15-20k

posting date: tba

taglist: @kgneptun, @deobitifull, @lovelickies, @tinie03, @moon4moony, @sousydive, @jebetwo, @haechology, @wooziswife, @havetaeminforbreakfast, @vannabanana1995, @nctislifue , @wiley199, @lovgfrd, @heegyuwrld, @caravm, @adoredbyjay, @notevenheretbh1

teaser

the principal's office could really use an interior designer, you think. or just a whole renovation at this point. the ceiling is showing signs of leakage, there is paint peeling off the walls behind the desk. and the desk itself, jeez, principal higgs should have gotten rid of it ages ago, you keep telling him!

“how many visits will that be for the week?” he doesn’t even look up from whatever he was writing as he says this. you shift on your seat and look to your left where jay is tapping his fingers on the armrest of the uncomfortable chair and heeseung next to him is just staring at the principal’s receding hairline. meanwhile sunghoon to your right is silently plotting your death.

since none of the boys speak up, you clear your throat.

“the fourth, sir,” you say with a smile you think is charming but it actually isn’t. principal higgs sighs and puts his pen down as well as his glasses, massaging the bridge of his nose.

“thank you, miss y/l/n,” he replies, “and how many more times are you planning to sit in these horribly uncomfortable chairs this week?”

“none, sir,” you continue, the smile still playing on your lips. the older man behind the desk closes his eyes for a second.

“you say that every time and yet here we are again. so, what did you do this time? did you accidentally fall and hit mr. park in the face again?” he looks at jay, who rolls his eyes at the reminder, “well, he doesn’t look like he got a black eye. so, what is it?”

when even you don’t respond, avoiding the principals eyes as he opens them again and the boys are all hopeless cases anyways, mr. higgs takes a deep breath and puts his glasses back on.

“fine. let’s see,” he pulls on the stack of papers he has gotten from his secretary and looks at it with his lips pursed. all four of you shift on your seats now.

“alright then. mr. lee, as it seems you… put several worms in mr. sim’s locker?” higgs eyebrow pierces up and heeseung coughs.

“and mr. park, jay, you… sabotaged mr. sim’s chair so that he fell on to his backside and then told him to “go suck it”?” jay snorts, still tapping against the armchair and not looking at the principal. higgs takes a deep breath.

“mr. park, sunghoon,… you held out your leg for mr. sim to fall over… almost twenty-three times in one day.”

sunghoon has to concentrate not to look too proud of himself.

“and finally, miss y/l/n. you yelled at mr. sim in front of your whole class, saying, and i quote “you’re a stupid asshat anyways, i hope you trip and break your butt, you ugly little worm”.”

you smile innocently.

“you also kicked him in the shins, as a grand ending gesture, as mrs. james was kind enough to write down for me.”

he puts the notebook down and looks at the four of you.

“come on you guys, i know you like to play harmless pranks on teachers. like to make one joke too many in class. but this? if mr. sim’s parents hear about this, and they will, there could be consequences that even i can’t hold back.”

#enhypen fanfiction #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #jay x reader #heeseung x reader #sunghoon x reader #jake x reader #enhypen fic #enhypen imagines #enha x reader #enha fluff #enha smut #enha fanfiction #enhypen fluff #enhypen au #enha au #enha imagine

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

Note

Hal, i can't say how happy i am to see you hit such a big number, i've been following you since the beggining and it's so amazing to see this community grow, i love how everyone that interacts is so kind and overall amazing, you deserve that and much more, and i hope things in your personal life keep getting better!! ❤

For the event, i would like to request, if possible, a small drabble of Keegan with a daughter, it can be anything, really! I'm a single mom expecting a baby, and i just need to see a strong military man caring for a child, all your other parent fics just hit the hard in the feelings, so i wanted to see my favorite in this prompt too!

—Hold Her Close

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Keegan cares for his young daughter.] ❞

He holds her carefully as she sits on the back of his neck, hands firm on her legs as they dangle around his shoulders with their tiny little shoes. The child was giggling, no more than seven, as her hands tangled in the black locks of Keegan’s hair and pulled without any real strength; her eyes stared at all the sights to be seen.

It was early at Fort Santa Monica, so early the mist was still in the air and the chill caused the protective father to suit his daughter into a jacket that puffed around her frame. She’d been crying last night, and rather than ask her to try and fall asleep again, he’d gone on his morning run with some company. It didn’t bother him, of course.

She was yours and his daughter—she could never bother him for as long as he lived.

“Having fun up there?” He grunts out, blue eyes shifting up as the child giggles out a small ‘yep,’ and returns to gazing around with glittering eyes. She was so tiny, he thought to himself. So easy to pick up and infect those little eyes with wonder. Everything down to the way the dew looked in the grass was a foreign world to her—mixed with magic and innocence he never wanted to see gone.

“Which way, Sunshine?” Keegan asks, blinking forward at the split in the sidewalk; left or right?

“That way,” her pudgy hand points, and booted feet obey without question. Left it was.

The soldier hums and puffs out a breath of condensation into the air, t-shirt and running shorts swaying around him.

“If you get cold,” he utters, “you tell me, okay?”

“Okay!” Keegan pushes down a smile, blue eyes so soft you could mistake it for dyed room-temperature butter. While he wouldn’t get the workout he had intended in the brightening sun of the morning, with the sound of waves lapping in the air and the scent of his sweat dripping off his nostrils, he’d still enjoy this.

“Can we get hot cocoa?” A hand slaps his forehead and he chuffs a laugh, flinching slightly at the tiny connection of skin.

“Careful, Kid,” the soldier mutters but nods as his daughter's giggles make his chest swell. Damn him, he was done for the moment he’d seen her in the NICU. “Yeah, fine, we can get some hot cocoa. You know something though?”

His daughter's face is above his as he leans his neck back, looking up into her bright face. She blinks, smiling wide.

“What?”

“You’re gonna have to give me a kiss first, Sweetheart.”

“Ew!” She laughs, and Keegan holds her body still as it moves all around in her childish delight, legs kicking out as the man laughs under his breath.

“C’mon,” he huffs, “nothing for your Old Man? I’m hurt. You give Riley kisses on the nose all the time.”

She’s still laughing, holding onto his head. Keegan decides there’s never been a more perfect sound. Without another word, a little smooch is pressed into his hairline, an overdramatic ‘mwah’ sounding off with a raise of hands upwards.

He beams, eyes crinkling and lips pulled back with a wide smile as he shakes his head in amusement. Moving his face forward, the normally stoic soldier sighs and continues on, his daughter on his shoulders and his heart full.

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a-distantdreamer · 1 year

Text

Only Us

daniel ricciardo x ofc

word count: 5222

thank you to the lovely @leclerc-stan for always being there and @strawberrysainz and @forteafy for convincing me to post this 🫶🏻 i haven’t posted any of my writing in a while but with some encouragement and support i have built up the courage again. i hope this is okay. 🤍

tw: nausea, vomiting, pregnancy tests

Sienna felt like shit.

Her hands trembled as she dragged her suitcase up the front path, trying to ignore the sweat beading on her hairline. As expected for the Australian summertime, it was as hot as hell, but she had been sweating and nauseous even in the depths of the air conditioned airport and the taxi.

Daniel had, of course, offered to come and collect her from the airport, but she refused, knowing that they were hosting his parents for lunch that afternoon. She wouldn’t deny Daniel the rare, quality time with his Mum and Dad for anything, no matter how much she wished he was there to give her a cuddle when she’d first got out of the airport.

As Sienna fished through her bag for her keys, her stomach knotted again, and she inhaled slowly through her nose, bracing the palm of her hand on the wood of the door. Mentally, she noted that there was a perfectly good hedge next to their front door that could be vomited into, if needed.

Eventually, the churning of her stomach eased a little, and Sienna managed to unlock the front door, pulling herself and her case into the entryway. She set her backpack and suitcase by the foot of the stairs before beginning the search through the house for her family.

Rounding the corner into the open-plan living space, she smiled at the sight of Daniel standing at the kitchen countertop, chopping salad and bopping along to the summery music of one of his many playlists. He was clad in a pair of navy shorts and a bright blue, noisily patterned shirt. His feet were bare. She was home.

Slowly, Sienna walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his narrow waist. She felt him tense for a moment and giggled when he swore under his breath, before he looked down at her hands, which curled over his tummy.

“Well, hey there, cutie,” he murmured.

Sienna sighed contentedly, turning her head to rest her cheek between his shoulder blades as his voice settled over her like smooth caramel, “hi, baby.”

Daniel took hold of her hands to loosen her grip on him enough that he could turn to face her. She rested her hands on his hips, as his came up to cup her face. His stubble had grown a little since she had left, and one unruly curl of hair was hanging over his forehead. She reached up to smooth it back into place, with little effect.

“I fucking missed you,” he admitted, his gorgeous brown eyes scanning her face as he spoke.

Sienna nodded and leant up on her tiptoes to kiss him, “I missed you too.”

He smiled against her mouth until she lowered back to the flat of her feet. The motion alone made her head spin and she let out a groan, leaning forward to rest her head against his chest.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his large hands running up and down her spine.

She shrugged, “I’ve felt awful for the whole journey home.”

“In what way?” Daniel probed, his concern growing.

“Nauseous, dizzy, hot even in the air conditioning. I haven’t managed to eat anything today,” Sienna listed.

“Still?” Daniel queried in confusion, “you were feeling sick before you left for Sydney too.”

“Must’ve just been the start of it. The nausea feels the same,” Sienna admitted, “although I feel like I’m running more of a temperature now.”

Daniel shook his head and lifted his hand to press the back of it to her forehead, “you don’t feel warm, you’re just a little…damp. With the sweat, y’know?”

Sienna snorted out a laugh at his choice of words, “probably because it’s hot as hell here, as usual. Who’s bright idea was it again to move out to a farm in The-Arse-End-of-Perth, Australia, again?”

“Oh I do wonder,” Daniel teased in return.

They knew full well that both he and Sienna had painstakingly searched for a house just like the one they were standing in for years, and were equally enthusiastic when the farm had come on the market. The day they had moved into the house, 4 years into their relationship, had been one of the happiest of Sienna’s life so far. It was their home, and any time that they had spare from Daniel’s hectic racing calendar in the year since they’d bought it was spent there.

Sienna tilted her head back to peer up at his handsome face, her fingertips gripping at the silkiness of his shirt, “are your mum and dad here yet?”

Part of her hoped he’d say no, so that they could cuddle, and she could nap, even though she was desperate to see Grace and Joe again too. She adored Daniel’s family.

Daniel nodded, “they’re outside. But if you’re not feeling well enough to come out now, you can go lay down for a bit. They’ll understand.”

“No way,” Sienna shook her head, even though she was dying to crawl into her own bed and just sleep, “I want to see them.”

The Ricciardos were out on the patio, looking as put together and gorgeous as ever. Grace was holding a glass of red wine, watching Joe heating the grill with a beer in hand. Daniel came out, holding the large bowl of salad he’d prepared in one hand, and leading Sienna out with the other.

“There’s our girl!” Joe cheered at the sight of her, abandoning the grill to rush over as Daniel let go of her to put down the food.

Sienna never had to force a smile around Daniel’s family. They were always so incredibly welcoming to her.

“Hey, Joe,” she greeted, as he engulfed her in a tight hug. Grace had also made her way over in that time, greeting Sienna with a hug and a kiss on the cheek once Joe let go of her.

“How was your journey, darling?” Grace queried softly, cupping her cheek.

Sienna managed a weak smile, “it was a little rough. I don’t feel all that well.”

“Oh, sweetie, go and rest if you need to!” Grace exclaimed, her hands resting on Sienna’s shoulders, “don’t mind us one bit.”

Sienna shook her head, “I’ll be okay. I think I just need some food and fresh air. I haven’t managed to eat yet today either, so that probably explains it.”

Grace still looked uncertain, but let it go, taking her seat back at the table with Sienna beside her as Daniel went to assist Joe with the food again. Grace and Sienna chatted about her work trip to Sydney and other current affairs, occasionally looking up to laugh at the banter between Daniel and his dad over the barbecue, or the ridiculous way Daniel was shaking his hips to the music. They talked about her and Daniel’s plans for the rest of the summer break, including their upcoming trip to Southern Italy.

Throughout, Grace knew that Sienna still wasn’t herself. She was awfully pale, and Grace noticed how Sienna’s hands were trembling a little whenever she went to take a tentative sip of water. She also noticed how Daniel would glance back over at Sienna regularly to check on her, the small crease between his eyebrows showing concern.

In the distance beyond the patio, Sienna spotted their flock of sheep migrating over the red-dirt hills towards their pen. She made a mental note to go down and visit them first thing in the morning, along with her horses. She had missed them so much in the four days that she was away. Having enough space to own animals had always been a dream of hers, and she felt blessed that she and Daniel were in a position to do so.

Suddenly, a slight breeze blew across the patio, carrying the scent of the cooking meat on the barbecue across the table. Sienna’s nose scrunched as the rich scent of steak and seasoned chicken engulfed her, and her stomach lurched. She slapped her hand ove no r her mouth and pushed out from the table as bile rose in her throat.

Daniel could only watch in confusion as Sienna raced back inside the house. He quickly handed the spatula back over to his dad and took off his apron, not wanting to risk anything that was making Sienna feel more sick getting close to her.

“Poor thing,” he heard his mum saying sympathetically as he followed Sienna inside, “she really isn’t well at all.”

The door to the downstairs bathroom was flung wide open, and Sienna hadn’t even bothered to turn the lights on before falling to her knees in front of the toilet. There was no relief that came with actually vomiting though, and now she had started she feared she wouldn’t be able to stop. Already, there was little more than stomach acid coming up, burning at her nose and throat and only making the nausea worse.

“Oh, Peach,” Daniel sighed, crouching down beside Sienna’s exhausted-looking form. He carded his fingers through her sweat-dampened hair, ensuring it was all pulled away from her face before he kissed the crown of her head.

“I’m here, baby,” he soothed as she continued to vomit.

One of her hands shakily reached for him to steady herself, her clammy palm gripping onto his thigh where his shorts had ridden up a little to expose the tanned and tattooed skin.

Sienna let out a tired little sigh once her stomach finally stopped heaving, and she turned her head to rest her rosy cheek on Daniel’s thigh. She felt completely drained, and didn’t even try to open her eyes.

“All done?” Daniel asked softly, not wanting to speak too loudly and make her feel worse.

Weakly, she nodded, and Daniel shifted her until they were both sitting on the floor. Sienna was cradled in his lap as he smoothed his hand over her hair.

After a few moments, Daniel spoke quietly, “I’m going to put you in bed for a little while. If you’re feeling better later, you can come sit out with me and mum and dad again, yeah?”

Sienna didn’t even have the energy to object or explain how embarrassed she felt about getting sick in front of Daniel’s parents, so instead she just nodded. Daniel gently slid Sienna off his lap and onto the floor, before getting to his feet and bending down to lift her. He hooked an arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back, encouraging Sienna to curl into his chest.

“I’ve gotcha sweetheart,” he murmured when she let out a quiet groan of discomfort. Even the slight movement of him starting to walk up the stairs was making her feel sick again.

By the time Daniel had reached their bedroom, Sienna was fast asleep against his chest. He pulled back the covers with one hand and lay her down on the mattress gently. He made sure the air conditioning was set just as she liked it, that she had her childhood Snuggle Cat close by and a cold glass of water on the bedside table. He took a moment to perch on the mattress next to her, noting the tension in her forehead and the little crease of her skin between her brows, even in her sleep. Something was definitely off.

Of course they’d seen each other sick in the last 6 years, even suffering through a rough bout of Covid-19 during the pandemic. Daniel couldn’t remember ever seeing Sienna so unwell before. Usually she would still manage to soldier through any symptoms, and simply curl up on the sofa under a blanket to watch trashy TV, but this time, she seemed completely drained.

Daniel gently kissed between Sienna’s brows, before smoothing over the spot with his thumb, encouraging her to relax, shushing her softly. She let out a little groan, arching into his touch before she snuggled further into the pillows.

Joe and Grace had finished off cooking the meat and veggies on the barbecue by the time Daniel wandered back out onto the patio. They’d even set the outside table and brought out the side dishes from the kitchen.

“How’s our girl?” Joe asked, as Daniel raked a hand through his hair, sinking into a chair opposite his mum and dad.

“Uh, she’s sleeping,” he said, reaching for the bowl of salad, “she’s totally wiped.”

“I could tell something wasn’t right as soon as she got back,” Grace admitted, spooning a few baby potatoes onto her plate, “we can save her some of the plainer food in case she’s hungry later, Bub.”

Daniel nodded in agreement, “thanks mum. She’s not been feeling well for a while, even before she left for Sydney. It might just be a bit of a nasty virus or something.”

Grace set down the dish she was holding and stared at her son, “she left on Tuesday?”

Daniel, still not looking up from where he was loading food onto his plate, nodded again, “yeah, she was away for 4 days.”

“Might even be worth seeing the doctor if she’s still not feeling great after 4 days,” Joe suggested, pushing his chair out from the table, “I’m gonna grab a beer. Want one, Dan?”

Daniel shook his head, “nah, thanks. I’d better not in case Sienna needs me later.”

Joe nodded, grabbing his son’s shoulder on his way past him back into the house. Once Joe was fully out of earshot, Grace leant across the table towards Daniel.

“Danny…I think you need to go and buy a pregnancy test,” She said.

Daniel’s brow furrowed, “what? For Sienna?”

“No. For you,” Grace joked, before she shook her head, “obviously for Sienna.”

He felt his stomach clench a little at the suggestion, “you think…?”

“It all adds up, Bubs. I was so sick when I was pregnant with you that I was convinced I had stomach flu for two weeks. I was just like Sienna is now - couldn’t stand the smell of any food, I was vomiting, I had nausea and headaches,” Grace explained, ticking off the symptoms on her fingers.

Daniel let out a little laugh of disbelief, “holy shit.”

Grace shook her head quickly, seeing Daniel’s excitement at the prospect growing, “it might not be, but she’s got the symptoms. Might just be worth checking.”

“She should have had her period by now,” Daniel noted.

He couldn’t remember the last time Sienna had put sanitary products into their basket while shopping, curled up with a hot water bottle pressed to her belly or taken one of her ‘magical’ Epsom salt baths for her cramping.

It had been a while.

Grace nodded slowly, giving her son time to process his thoughts, “why don’t you run to the store now while she’s asleep? Your dad and I can stay here with her. I won’t say anything to Dad.”

Daniel’s eyes flitted to his mum, who gave him a reassuring smile. He nervously raked a hand through his hair, at which his mum leant forward, offering her hand to him across the table.

He took it and she gave it a squeeze.

“It’s gonna be okay, Dan. You don’t need to be scared,” she whispered.

Daniel stood, staring blankly at the shelves in the tiny convenience store. He didn’t think it was possible to have so many different variations of the same product. Surely they all just did the same thing, right?

He snapped a photo of the shelves and sent it to his mum, followed by one word. ‘Help.’

While he waited for her response, he started at one end of the small aisle, eyes scanning across the various boxes to see if any of the tests stood out to him. There were early result ones, ‘dip’ ones - whatever the fuck that meant - and a plethora of digital ones. They boasted the highest accuracy percentage, and Daniel trusted statistics, so he began picking a digital test from each brand off the shelf and dropping them into the basket at his feet.

His phone pinged, and Grace had replied; ‘digital is better. ClearBlue is what Mich used.’

Daniel nodded and slipped his phone back into his pocket, continuing his journey down the aisle. His mind kept drifting back to Sienna, who was laying in bed back at their house, unbelievably sick and potentially pregnant with their child. The thought of her carrying their baby was almost too exciting for Daniel to bear. He knew he had to get home to her quickly.

A dip in the mattress made Sienna stir from her deep sleep. She yawned and stretched, accidently shoving Snuggle Cat onto the floor before she opened her eyes.

Daniel was perched beside her, his large hand settled on the curve of her hip beneath the comforter, “hey, Peach. How are you feeling?”

Sienna smiled sleepily at the nickname, which made Daniel relax a little. She finally seemed a bit more like herself.

“Um, not as sick, I think?” Sienna answered tentatively, scrunching her nose as she gauged whether she was at an immediate risk of throwing up on Daniel. After a second, she decided that they’d be safe for the moment.

Daniel nodded, “good. That’s…good.”

Sienna then noticed the plastic grocery store bag in his lap, “what have you got, Dan?”

He looked down at his lap, and then back at her, “I went to the store while you were asleep. Mum suggested it.”

“Oh?” Sienna asked, rubbing at her eyes with a closed fist, not caring if she was smudging her already ruined mascara even more.

Daniel reached into the bag and pulled out one of the boxes, setting it on top of the quilt between them. It took Sienna a moment to register what she was looking at, but as soon as she did, she felt her mouth go dry.

“What-?”

“Mum said it might be worth taking a test,” Daniel said softly, hoping he hadn’t overstepped the mark, “that she was so sick when she was first pregnant with me, just like you have been, and I just thought-”

Sienna just blinked at him, her hand coming up to rest on her pale cheek, “I-I could be. I just don’t know.”

“You don’t have to,” Daniel insisted, reaching forward to take hold of her hand, “I know I’ve just sprung this on you which is pretty shitty of me considering how unwell you’re feeling. I’m sorry.”

Sienna shook her head, looking up at him from beneath her lashes, “do you want me to take one?”

Daniel didn’t really know how to answer. Of course he wanted to know if they were going to be parents, but for her, he’d wait to make sure she was comfortable. After all, she hadn’t had much time to process the idea.

“Only if you want to,” Daniel said softly.

Sienna took a shuddering breath, “I’m scared.”

“It’s okay,” Daniel replied, “I’ll be here the whole time.

True to his word, Daniel accompanied Sienna to the bathroom, leaning back against the countertop as she peed on as many of the tests as she could manage. After each one, she’d pass them over to Daniel, who dutifully lay them out in a neat line across the counter.

“Jesus, Si, keep ‘em coming,” he teased, quite impressed by the amount of pee she was managing to produce.

“Shut up, Dan,” she grumbled, her cheeks flushing a bit at his words as she clicked the cap onto the 6th and final test and stretched her hand out towards him. He smiled at her and took it, turning his back only to allow her the privacy to clean up and flush.

“How long do we wait?” he asked, as Sienna perused one of the many test boxes stacked up on the countertop after washing her hands.

“They take around 2 minutes apparently,” She sighed, wrapping her arms around herself.

Daniel was staring down at the line of tests intently, as if his gaze alone was enough to give them a result. She knew he was trying to stay composed for her, but she could spot his excitement a mile off. In that moment, she knew exactly what she wanted, and the real fear came from not being able to give Daniel that either.

“Danny,” she croaked, her eyes brimming with tears.

He turned to look at her and crossed the short distance to where she stood. As soon as he got to her, she crumbled, her arms wrapping around his neck and her face nuzzling into his shoulder to dampen his shirt.

“Hey,” he whispered, his hands running up and down her back, “it’s going to be okay, baby. Talk to me.”

She shook her head against him, and he gently squeezed her hips enough to hoist her up so she was sat on the counter. His hands cradled her face gently, those big brown eyes peering into hers.

“I love you,” he said quietly.

Sienna's eyes brimmed with tears again, “I love you.”

“What’s going on?” He probed, his thumbs stroking the fresh tears from her cheeks. The way she was trembling and crying was breaking his heart.

“I’m scared that you’ll be disappointed,” Sienna admitted, the words alone causing more tears to fall from her eyes.

“Disappointed?” Daniel’s eyebrows furrowed, “how could I be disappointed, sweetheart? If those tests are positive, I’ll be absolutely elated, and if they’re not, sure it’ll sting, but I know that one day when we do get a positive, it’ll be the best day of my life.”

Sienna felt her heart burst with love for the man standing in front of her, and she leant forward to allow their foreheads to meet. Daniel pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose.

“Do you want them to be positive?” he asked against her skin.

Sienna closed her eyes, and without a second thought, nodded emphatically, chewing at her bottom lip, “more than anything.”

Daniel let out a sigh, finally understanding why she was so anxious, “listen, if they aren’t positive, and you do have some shitty virus, then as soon as you’re feeling better, we’ll get on board the baby-making train.”

Sienna peered up at him, “really?”

“Really,” Daniel said decisively.

Suddenly she let out a giggle and rolled her eyes, “I can’t believe you just called it ‘the baby making train’.”

“Is that not what everyone calls it?” Daniel teased, laughing at his own joke as always. Sienna adored him for it.

“I don’t think so, honey,” she sniffled, bringing her arms to loop behind his neck so that she could run her fingertips through the soft curls on the back of his head.

“I think this might be the longest two minutes of my life,” Daniel admitted, turning his head to look at the row of tests again.

Just as he did, the first test began to beep quietly, the small light on the front flashing as if anyone who had taken one of those tests wouldn’t already be watching it like a hawk.

Sienna looked at him, letting a slow breath fall from between her lips. Daniel turned back to her and kissed her softly, silently reassuring as his hands gently took hold of her waist to ease her off the counter.

“I don’t know if I can look,” Sienna admitted quietly, her hands starting to tremble as the second timer beeped too.

Daniel’s hands ran up and down her ribs, “tell me what you want me to do.”

Sienna peered up at him, her vision blurring through her tears again as she saw the excited little smile playing on Daniel’s lips. She knew how much this moment meant to him, so she let him have it.

“Go look,” she urged.

Daniel kissed the top of her head before padding the short distance to the other side of the sink, where the tests were all lined up and waiting. For a moment, Daniel was frozen, his hands pressed to the counter on either side of the tests and his head bowed as he surveyed each of them carefully. It was the quietest Sienna had ever heard him be and the stillest she’d ever seen him.

After a few seconds of just listening to his steady breathing, Sienna mustered the courage to stand alongside him, staring at the side of his handsome face to try and gauge his reaction.

“Dan…what do they say?” Her voice was shaking, and she gripped onto the fabric of his shirt like a lifeline, too petrified to look down at the tests.

Daniel exhaled, turning round to face her, and it was then that she saw the tears on his cheeks. Only once he had her in his arms, did he nod, and let a beaming smile spread across his face. His hands came up to cradle her face, and he looked at her, grinning like a fool.

“Daniel…” Sienna warned shakily, as he continued to stay silent, “what-?”

“You’re pregnant.”

Immediately, Sienna buried her face into his chest and began to sob, as his hands wrapped around her tightly, one curling against the back of her head to hold her against him as she cried. He gently pulled back, pressing kisses all over her face even as she giggled and cried, completely overwhelmed.

“Oh my god,” she whimpered, leaning round Daniel enough to pick up the first test off the counter.

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him, but she just needed to see it for herself. Sure enough, the little display screen showed a plus sign, followed by the word ‘pregnant’.

The next 5 tests each said the same.

Sienna clutched them all in her hands, Daniel laughing joyously at the sight of her holding them all with a look of pure amazement on her face.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, “Danny…”

“I know,” he laughed again, raking his fingers through his curls, “I can’t believe this.”

“Me neither,” Sienna admitted, setting the tests down on the counter gently, “we’re going to have a baby.”

Daniel laughed, more tears falling down his cheeks as he reached for her. She stepped into his grasp again, her arms resting easily around his waist as her chin dropped to settle on his sternum, allowing her to stare up at him.

“I love you,” she said softly, as his shoulders heaved with another sob.

“I love you too,” he whispered, leaning down enough to press a gentle kiss to her lips.

The pair stood like that for what felt like an eternity, sharing kisses and tears in each other’s arms. Suddenly, Daniel pushed away from her gently, enough to drop his gaze down between their bodies.

“What are you doing?” Sienna laughed, as his hand came down to rest on her flat tummy.

He continued to stare at her body intently, brows furrowed, “just trying to imagine what it’ll be like when you can’t see your toes anymore.”

Sienna snorted and shook her head, “well for me, it’ll be ridiculously uncomfortable. For you, it’ll be like standing beside a beached whale.

Daniel shook his head adamantly, lifting his head again to look at her, “no way. You’re going to be the cutest pregnant woman of all time.”

“Oh really?” Sienna asked, as his hand stroked across her belly. He nodded and kissed her forehead in confirmation, completely overwhelmed at the thought of watching Sienna’s body change and grow over the coming months.

He couldn’t wait to experience it all with her: the scans, deciding on decoration for the nursery, helping her tie her laces when she couldn’t bend down anymore, feeling their baby kicking for the first time. It was all so exciting.

“Really,” Daniel affirmed, leaning his forehead against hers, “I think this is the happiest moment of my life.”

Sienna’s eyes watered at his words, “oh Dan…”

“I’ve always wanted this with you Si,” Daniel continued softly, “we’re going to have the cutest babies.”

Sienna sniffled and laughed, nodding, “we are.”

Daniel grinned, each of his pearly teeth on show as a hand drifted to stroke across her flat tummy, “do you think it’s a boy or a girl?”

“I have no idea,” Sienna laughed, shaking her head, “what do you think? Do you mind?”

“I don’t mind,” Daniel shrugged, “I mean my parents had one of each, your parents had one of each, you can’t get more statistically even than that right?”

“I guess so,” Sienna smiled, leaning forward to nudge the tip of her nose against his.

Daniel lifted his gaze to look at her, and she pressed her lips against his. They kissed for a moment, soft and sweet and gentle, before parting. Sienna whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Daniel murmured, pecking her lips twice more before his eyes lit up, “how do you feel about telling my parents they’re going to be grandparents again?”

Sienna giggled and nodded, as Daniel grabbed one of the many positive tests from the countertop, “let’s do it.”

Daniel grasped her hand, and gave her a little tug to follow him out of the bathroom. Sienna followed, one hand interlaced with his while the other grasped at his tattooed forearm. Just as he turned the corner and reached for their closed bedroom door, Sienna squeezed him, squeaking out an urgent, “wait.”

He stopped in his tracks as suddenly as she had, turning to eye her up questioningly, his eyebrow quirking worriedly, “you’re not gonna puke again are ya?”

Sienna bit her lip and shook her head, tears welling in her eyes again, “Danny, I…”

He let go of the handle and turned to face her, giving her hand a comforting squeeze, “yeah?”

“This is our last moment of only us knowing about the baby,” she whispered, tears threatening to fall more with every passing second.

The more she imagined the tiny little life growing inside her, the more her stomach churned with nerves and excitement.

Daniel nodded and took another step closer, “do you want to wait to tell them? We can wait if you’re not ready, although I’ll have to come up with something to tell Ma.”

“No,” Sienna insisted, shaking her head before giving him a shy smile, “I just want a minute longer to really remember this feeling, before it’s not only us anymore.

With that, she looked him up and down, taking in his luscious dark curls, his warm honey-toned gaze and gorgeous nose. She admired the way his boisterous party shirt hung off his frame and the glimpse of his thigh tattoo peeking from beneath the hem of his almost-too-short shorts.

When her eyes met his again, he was beaming from ear to ear, each of his pearly white teeth showing in the way that made her heart flutter unconditionally. She knew she’d remember him in that moment, and the way he looked at her knowing she was carrying their first child, for the rest of her life.

“I fucking love you,” she hiccuped, trying to compose herself, even as tears fell down her flushed cheeks.

Daniel snorted a laugh and pulled her close, pressing his lips against hers firmly, “I fucking love you too, darling.”

Sienna pecked his lips twice more, before pulling back to look at him, her gaze still soft and watery, “I think I’m ready.”

Daniel smirked and nodded, “then let’s do this.”

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