#honey the hostess

[konstantya]

This guy fucking gets it.

[sportsandlaughs]

[vagueconfusion]

Am starting alkaline hydrolysis research with some Ask A Mortician videos and will move on from there

[honeywithrose]

might need to get a second job and i’m already incredibly anxious and frustrated at employers after scrolling the first 5ish pages of indeed

[henryjefferson]

Cheese - Pickled Cheese A delightful recipe for pickled feta cheese. Easy to make, and adjust to fit almost any container. Makes a great hostess gift.

[bluepoodle7]

#Hostess #HostessHoneyBunIcedLatteCoffee #FlavoredIcedLatte #CoffeeInOatmeal #OatmealDay #HoneyBunIcedLatteReview

I tried the Hostess Honey Bun Iced Latte Coffee and it was pretty good. This coffee tasted like coffee but with a sweet honey syrup taste to it instead of sugary. This didn't taste overly sweet to me.

I tried this before I put this in my oatmeal.

I would get this again.

Got iced coffee at Save A Lot and the oatmeal's at Kroger.

[smol-tired-binch-blog]

YUKI'S BEEN FUCKING KIDNAPPED?????

[luveline]

Hii, I absolutely love your Hotch fics in which he meets his adult daughter. Could we get one in which she is feeling down about something and he helps/reassures her?💕💕

It’s difficult to foster a relationship with someone when you don’t get to see them. Even harder when the relationship is with your father who didn’t know you existed for over two decades, and who works as a Special Agent in the FBI, spending half of his life in other states. 

Lately it feels impossible. 

He’s just never home. When he is, he can't make it to dinner. You start to feel exactly as you had before you knew him, alone again, working hard to keep up in class, drained from your part time job, and always tired. 

You should stay home and sleep, but tonight, your dad is free for dinner. 

You wait on the corner of the street in the golden light of the restaurant. It’s chilly out, and the sky is slowly darkening. You watch the road for the shape and bulk of Aaron’s SUV, relieved to see him on the way past. He parks in the parking lot, making a small stop into the trunk of the car before he makes his way toward you. 

He’s carrying a little white teddy bear wrapped in pink heart cellophane. 

You know it’s for you, but it’s still sweet enough to surprise you when he smiles at you and encourages it into your hands. “Hello,” he says, wrapping one arm around you quickly as he kisses your cheek. 

It’s always a shock, but never unwelcome. 

“Hi, Aaron.” 

“Let’s go in, yes?” he asks. “It’s too cold to stay out here. Were you waiting a long time?” 

You let him walk you to the entrance, where he gives his name to the hostess for the reservation, and together you follow her to a small table near a bay window. The trees outside are strung with tea lights. The restaurant smells like nutty chocolate ganache. You mentioned that you liked the desserts here the first time he brought you, and he’s continued to bring you here ever since. 

You are undoubtedly getting to know one another. You’ve met Haley three times, and Jack five. You had dinner together only two weeks ago where he tried to show you how to keep spaghetti on your fork while failing to manage it himself. He was sweet, and Aaron was really good with him. 

You’d been jealous. 

“What’s the bear for?” you ask. 

“I’m trying to buy your forgiveness. Is it working?” 

You laugh without thinking. “My forgiveness?” 

“Sometimes, when I don’t see Jack for a long time, he gets frosty with me. I know it’s poor parenting but I’ll bring home a souvenir in the hopes he won’t stay mad.” 

“This is a souvenir?” you ask. 

He sits with good posture, but his face is ducked apologetically. It’s a kind sort of look, like he really is sorry. “I think I owe you more than that.” 

This regret he’s expressed before. You truly believe that he wishes he could go back in time and be there for you, which might be why it aches to think about it in detail. He wanted to be the loving, doting father. He just didn’t get the chance. 

“It sort of… breaks my heart sometimes, when I see you,” you say. 

It’s a lot. You haven’t even ordered your drinks. 

“It does?” he asks gently. 

“I wish…” You bite the inside of your cheek. Shake your head when you can’t finish. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I think about it a lot. I resent your mother.” 

She’s your mother, but yes. “I do, too.” 

You listen to the clatter of the kitchen somewhere deep in the building and the indistinguishable chatter of other families and dates where they sit around you. Your hand closes tightly on a napkin. 

“Are you okay? You look tired, honey.” 

“Must be a Hotchner thing,” you say. 

He laughs like you haven’t just slighted him. “It definitely is. I’m getting the sense that you’re upset about more than your mother, though.” 

“How would you know?” you ask genuinely. 

It’s his party trick. You’re expecting a rundown: your hand moves a quarter inch to the left and shows your upset, or your nose twitches to betray your true feelings. But he doesn’t need to use his special set of agent skills on you tonight. 

“You won’t look at me for very long. It’s exactly like your brother.” 

You sniff ineffectually. “It is?” 

He looks especially solemn, then. “I wish we didn’t miss out on so much with each other, but I’m here now, if you want me. You can tell me what’s bothering you. I promise I’ll listen.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’ve always heard worse.” He manages a smile. “Not that what you’re feeling isn’t important.” 

“Well, I… it’s mostly the little things. You know school is hard.” 

“At GWU? It’s gruelling.” 

“It’s awful. I probably need a tutor.” You laugh. “Maybe. It’s not so bad, and once this year is over, I’m done, but I have my internship lined up for the summer, so I’m trying very hard to– to work as much as I can now. But working and studying all the time makes me tired.” Your cheeks heat at having spilled it all without finesse. “Sorry, I know you work twenty three hours a day.” 

“How many hours are you working a week?” he asks. 

“Uh, usually twenty-four. I try to do three shifts a week. Sometimes they want me after school, so it’s more like twenty-nine or thirty-four.” Or forty-four.

“And you’re studying–”

“Every spare minute.” 

He nods thoughtfully. “I’m sorry. It sounds hard…” 

“What?” you ask. 

“I’m just thinking about something.” He licks his lips. “And you’ve always worked? Since high school?” 

Your flush worsens. “Yeah. I have to pay for school somehow, and to eat.” You quieten. 

“What if you didn’t have to work, honey?” 

You shake your head vehemently. “Aaron.” 

“I’m serious. What if you didn’t have to do so much? You need time to do nothing. Overworking yourself will give you an ulcer, trust me, and that’s the last thing I want. I could–”

“I can’t take your money–”

“It’s not just my money. Does Jack ‘take’ my money?” 

“You signed up for Jack–”

“And I’m signed up for you. I want to be here for you, and this is what father’s do, okay? If they can, and I can.” 

“Unnecessary brag.” 

He ignores your joke. “Even if I could just pay for GWU. I know those textbooks are burning a hole in your pocket.” 

You refuse. Aaron promises to return to the subject when you aren’t exhausted, and maybe you’ll let him. It would be beautiful to wake up on a Saturday with nothing to do. 

It would be nice not to miss your dad. You’ve done it your whole life, but now he’s real, and he seems to really care about you. When he hugs you after he’s paid for dinner, you want to be allowed to cling, and, as he tightens his hold, you realise you are. 

“It’s so good to see you,” he says, rubbing your upper arm. 

“Yeah,” you mumble. 

“Can I see you tomorrow?” 

You ease back. “Really?” Because you hadn’t mentioned that you missed him, but he already knows.

He pats your arm. “You know I’d see you every day, if I could? I’ve missed out on enough already. We’ll take Jack to Olive Garden again and you can think a bit more on what I proposed.” 

“I can’t take your money,” you repeat quietly. 

“Not that, though you should. You can tell me anything, okay?” 

You breathe out as he steps away. “Okay.” 

He touches your cheek briefly. “Okay. I’m proud of you. You’re doing great.” 

“Thanks, Aaron.” 

“You’re welcome. Text me when you get home safe, all right?” 

You look at him for too long. “Thank you,” you say again, moving in for another hug. 

He props his head atop yours carefully. “You’re welcome, honey.” 

[dickgraysonsbitch]

Hi! Just found your blog and it’s the best thing ever honestly. I was wondering if you could do a Jason Todd x reader where the reader deals with migraines and sensory overloads? If not that’s totally cool, have a nice day!

thank you so much for your ask!! this was actually my first request ever 😭 nonny you will go down in history 💖 a psa that while i do have mild sensory issues, i don’t have migraines, so any and all criticism is welcome!

warnings: pills/migraines | 1.2k words | dividers by @cafekitsune | requests open !

You fell onto the bed, tucking your knees in close to your chest. Fifty minutes. This goddamned headache had been the bane of your whole existence for fifty minutes, and you couldn’t even catch a bloody break. Every week, it would come back like clockwork, and while you had your routine (two advils, an eye mask, and soothing ocean noises all while sitting in a dark room with a singular, mildly-scented lavender candle with two out of three wicks lit) it didn’t change the fact that every minute that you lay there, the throbbing sensation around your head came back worse than before.

Grasping the tip of your nose, you tilted your head back in order to swallow the pills next to you. If you didn’t, you’d eventually gag on the water, and that wasn’t really a pretty sight to see. It was a miracle that you could even work as a hostess, especially on the graveyard shift, because it was taking every ounce of your willpower not to throw up at even the most tamest memories—a sleepy child with food flying out of their mouth, or a costumer shouting about how ‘insane’ you were when you had only gotten through your second advil of the day. It wasn’t enough, clearly, because if it had been, you wouldn’t be holed up in your dark room like a vampire with chronic pain.

One knock on your window jolts you from your ibuprofen-fueled haze. Two knocks. Three knocks—god, who doesn’t have patience in this stupid city? Not everyone can be a metahuman that travels at the speed of sound.

You open your window, head still pulsing, but all thoughts of another cup of mildly sweetened honey tea dissipates when the Red Hood smoothly slides into your living room/kitchen (it’s Gotham! Rent may be low, but you are poor as hell), removes his helmet, and shakes his head like a wet dog, the domino mask he was wearing underneath somehow not falling off. He shoots you a crooked grin before plopping himself on your couch, resting his legs on your coffee table.

“Shoes off,” you grumble. “And for the millionth time, I have a door for a reason. And I put food on that table, and I don’t want to see your nasty feet on it.” While other people might be a bit more reserved when talking to a Bowery drug lord, you had never given yourself the same boundaries. He’d crashed into your apartment when he was injured one night a few months ago, and since then, the Red Hood swore to one, pay off your window, and two, make sure you were safe. In his words, it was the best way to repay you for saving his life—even though you didn’t really do anything of the sort. Basic stitches that you learnt in high school, because that was what they taught when a vigilante could collapse in your house due to blood loss any minute in Gotham.

“Woah…” he raises his hands up in mock surrender, his eyes glinting with mirth. “What’s wrong? Rough shift?”

He can always tell, and you’ve decided to refrain against trying to lie to the only crime lord that you’ll likely ever be friend with, unless the Penguin unexpectedly decides to lumber up your fire escape. (Hood’s gotten you a spiked baseball bat for occasions like that, because you complained about any firearms). A pang of pain from you head. Mental note, put out the candle, no wicks. Darken the room even more, try and fail to go to sleep. You have your second job in the morning tomorrow. Mental note, take a melatonin if you can’t sleep, pack a few pills of ibuprofen and acetaminophen if you can’t get through your morning shift. It’s two AM right now, you could still get three hours of sleep if you—

A rough, calloused hand gently caresses your cheek, sending a tingling sensation down your jawline, all the way down to the base of your spine. Okay, woah. “Take a deep breath, baby.” Hood’s deep, gravelly voice shakes your from your stupor. Oh. You were slipping back into your anxiety induced panic attacks, and you hadn’t even noticed. You take one deep breath, but instead of feeling like you’re stuffing an oversized pillow into a kid sized cover, you’re at ease, letting fresh air flow into your lungs.

“How you doin’ tonight, huh baby? I saw your kitchen light on, thought I’d stop by.” Red Hood rubs a simple circle pattern into your back, letting you lean onto him.

“I bet…” you take a shallow breath. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

A smile cracks through onto his face. “Nah, baby, just you. All the girls have nothing on you, baby. You want to tell me about your day?”

Maybe it was just his voice, but you were almost immediately more at ease than you wee moments ago. Red Hood would’ve had a great calling as a therapist, or even a guidance counselor, but you weren’t sure that he’d like it if you called him, arguably the most fearsome man in Gotham, a service worker. Men were weird that way.

“C-can you talk to me, Hood? I don’t know… you have a nice voice, I guess. Makes me feel safe.”

You could swear that you heard his voice crack before he cleared his throat. “Yeah, yeah, I can do that. So… I guess I didn’t do much today. Oh! This one sleaze-bag was trying to rob this eighth grader, and I’d never seen this old guy, okay? The kid, his name’s James, he immediately just swings his backpack at him. And I come in, this dude’s already gotten a broken nose…”

He keeps talking about the unexpected things that happened during his day, but your eyes are just trained on Hood. His sharp jaw, his toned arms, his hair and the decent-sized white streak that runs through it, his soft lips and the J scar that covered his left cheekbone, and you wondered what it would be like to know him without the mask on. Would he still be the same, sweet guy that you knew?

In a sudden moment of courage, you take Hood’s hand and squeeze it, your heart pounding nervously against your ribcage. “Thank you, Hood.” You whisper. “I don’t know… I don’t know what I would be done if you weren’t here. I’d probably be still having a killer headache right now.”

He smiles, something that you’ve been seeing him do a lot more often than he’s known for. Red Hood, vigilante, drug lord, crime boss? Nowhere to be seen. You try your hardest to gaze past the white lenses over his eyes, concealing his eye color.

“Jay,” he mutters softly, soft enough that if you hadn’t been sitting so close, you wouldn’t have been able to hear a word that he said. “Call me Jay.”

The head comes come back sometimes, but you usually tend to ignore the headaches after a dose of acetaminophen and a head massage from who might be the world’s best vigilante, Jay. You may not know his full name yet, but you know his heart, and under all that armor, under the Red Hood, is a man with a heart of gold.

please please please let me know if i got anything wrong so i can edit it!

[toxicanonymity]

Prescott House Bed & Breakfast

IMGs: the Prescott house, gif of older Billy Loomis looking in the mirror with a bloody shirt, and sidney's open window at night

1.8k words, 40+ y/o!Billy Loomis x f!reader SUMMARY: You stay the night in Sidney Prescott's old room and leave the window open. WARNINGS: I8+ Billy is a ghost/hallucination that seems completely real. He's buff, has scruff, and has (somehow) aged like fine wine. P in V, creampie, light manhandling/restraint, hybristophilia (craving that criminal cock), mild degradation/teasing, pet names, somnophilia adjacent, blood.

For more than 25 years, the old Prescott house was empty and rotting. The last thing the City of Woodsboro wanted was to sensationalize the original murders with a tourist attraction that could inspire copycats. The house changed owners a few times, but the city would never grant permits for renovation, until a charming older couple from out of town bought it with plans to open a bed & breakfast.

-

 You got a solo reservation for early October. The temperature was mild when you showed up just before dusk. If not for the pumpkins on nearly every doorstep, you might have thought it was September. A light breeze made the leaves dance across the yard as you walked up the path alone.  A grandmotherly woman answered the door, and her husband was right behind her to take your bag. She offered you tea and snacks, and you chatted for a bit, then she showed you to your room. She never mentioned the Prescotts.

When she gestured to Sidney’s bedroom door, your heart skipped a beat. You had hoped, but didn’t want to ask for it over the phone. You entered the room, and she turned on the light. 

Your hostess must have seen it in your face. 

“Oh, is this okay?” she asked, concerned. 

“Yes,” you nodded. “Yes, it’s perfect.” 

-

As soon as you were alone, you turned off the lights, shut the door, took off your shoes, and laid down on the bed, on top of the covers. You thought about how Sidney lived there. Billy visited there. It was exhilarating just being between those walls. 

When you went to shower, your heart raced as you checked behind the curtain. As usual, there was nothing. Nothing but energy. You brushed off your nerves as excitement, but there was a physical element you didn’t expect. The air felt heavy. Not stale, but thick, as if you were pushing through an invisible field as you moved. 

In the shower, that feeling was overtaken by a buzz in your body. It felt you were vibrating with life. You used a shower cap, and the soap smelled like honey-almond. You thought about Billy, and warmth rushed to your loins. You’d thought about him so many times. You imagined him retreating to this very bathroom with blue balls and frantically jerking off. You imagined him looking in the mirror as he did it. You pictured the dark look on his face with all his terrible thoughts and urges simmering in the back of his mind as he stroked his cock. You thought about him coming into the toilet bowl, which made your chest erupt in goosebumps. You turned off the water and squeezed your thighs together as you let the water roll off you. 

After taking off the shower cap and air drying for a minute, you toweled off, applied lotion, and put on a robe to go back to your room.  

-

In your bedroom, you turned on a bedside lamp. You put on your white floral nightgown and frilly white socks. You slowly went around the room looking at everything. You weren’t sure anything was original, but the pastel floral bedspread had a nineties vibe. You looked in a mirror on the wall and felt like you were looking at someone else. Your fingers came to your face, and your cheek was hot to the touch. Your arms were, too, and your chest. The air was thick again, and it felt like you were moving in slow motion. You went to the window and pulled back the lace, cream curtains to have a look outside. It was hard to see with the glare, so you slid the bottom window pane up, then locked it in place. The breeze that swept in felt like heaven. There wasn’t much to see. You closed the curtains but left the window open. 

You turned off the lamp as you got in bed. As you laid there in the slight moonlight, your body was throbbing with energy, but you were sleepy from your travels. The faint chirping of crickets lulled you to sleep without much difficulty.

-

A chill fell over the room in the middle of the night, stirring you half-awake.  You felt exposed, but couldn’t reach the covers to pull them back up. Then you felt a weight descend on your hips. You opened your eyes to the looming silhouette of a man straddling you. Your heart jumped and you drew in a mouthful of air to scream, only for a large, cool hand to clamp down over your mouth. The man lowered his torso over yours and brought his mouth to your ear to warn, “Be quiet for me, babe.” 

You struggled and whined into his palm. He brought his other forearm to your chest to hold you down roughly. “ Quiet ,” he demanded through gritted teeth. You nodded in compliance. 

As your eyes adjusted, more details came into focus. His hair was messy and he had scruff. His shoulders were built. His biceps swelled out from his short sleeves. There was some dark, abstract design all over the front of his white t-shirt, which stretched over his strong pecs and the hint of a soft belly. He was in boxers. He was probably in his 40s. 

He kneed your bare legs apart and you felt the cool air on your bare cunt as your eyes filled with tears. He smiled with one side of his mouth and it hit you like a freight train – Billy Loomis. He was too old, too built to be Billy, but his smile, and the glint in his eyes left no doubt in your mind. Your eyes widened, and your face softened. He braced his hands on either side of you and laid his hips into yours. What you felt against your front was warm, hard, and massive. You moaned into his hand, and a look of satisfaction spread across his face. 

“Gonna be quiet for me?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. 

You were already dripping wet. You nodded. 

“Good.” He slowly pulled his hand away from your mouth. 

“Billy?” you whispered. Then he whispered your name back with a slow thrust against you that made you close your eyes and bite your lip in pleasure. 

His pelvis lifted away, and through the cotton of his boxers, you could feel his heavy balls graze your leg as he moved to straddle a thigh. He was making room to wedge a hand between your legs. “ Mmm ,” he growled at first contact. He slowly rubbed you with three flattened fingers, just enough to gather your arousal and bring it to his lips. Your face heated up at the sight of blood on his fingers. He sucked his index finger and inhaled sharply through his nose. Then he sucked his other fingers clean and got back between your legs. He casually pulled his boxers down below his balls and ass, and his stiff cock bobbed heavily, hypnotizing you before he held his shaft in his hand with his thumb at the tip. 

“You're one of those sickos ,” he taunted. “ into psychos like me .” He shook his head in mock disapproval. You didn't bother denying it. “That's okay, baby .”

He scrunched up your nightgown, hiked up your thigh, then lined himself up at your wet little hole. As soon as the tip hit your wetness, your walls were clenching, begging for it. 

Holding your thigh and bracing a hand by your hip, he plunged his length into you, and his lips drew together with effort as his girth divided your insides. With a punch of his hips, he bottomed out and audibly released his breath. The stretch burned, but quickly faded. He paused and stared down at you, his chest and stomach expanding in rhythm with heavy breaths. 

He released your thigh and you  wrapped your legs around him. He withdrew a few inches, then shoved in again. He lowered himself so his tummy touched your middle as he began to pound you. He grunted and sighed quietly and and an orgasm brewed in your lower belly. 

After a minute, he lowered more of his weight onto you, planting his forearms on your pillow on either side of your head. A salty drop of sweat fell in your mouth. His shirt was wet, and it seeped through to your gown. Your nipples sharpened under the damp fabric.  He was giving it to you hard, and picking up the pace. The bed shook as he buried his length in you. He was bigger than you imagined. His whole body - bigger than any pictures you'd ever seen. Solid and strong. He felt realer than anyone you’d ever been with or even kissed. 

Without easing up the power of his thrusts, he slowed down a bit and widened the stance of his arms to lower his forehead to the pillow. His scruff brushed your cheek. He stroked your other cheek with his thumb. After a few seconds, you moaned and he raised his head to meet your eyes.  “Yeah,” he breathed, “I know what you want, baby.”

His cum, you wanted his cum.

You moaned as he hit the right spot and your lower torso tensed with the pressure of your building climax. He covered your mouth again, and his palm was warmer by then. You lowered your left left foot and watched his pale ass flex above the waistband of his boxers as he fucked you. 

“Yeah,” he breathed, and that sent you over the edge. The pressure burst, and pleasure flooded your system with each wave of your peak. You whimpered into his hand. 

“Fuck ,” he panted, fucking you through it as you clenched around him. He plunged to the hilt and erupted with a sigh. His moan was quiet but deep and drawn out, painting your insides with warm bursts. He backed up, then bottomed out again. And as you finished milking his cock, he brought his lips to yours. His lips felt full and soft. The kiss was smooth but aggressive, his tongue breaching your lips right away. He moaned into your mouth, releasing the last of his load. When he was empty, he broke the kiss with a sigh, then pulled out. 

You tingled head to toe as your body brought itself back together again. He gently gripped your jaw and read your eyes. “Later, babe ” He gave you another kiss, closed mouth, before sitting back and pulling on his boxers. You laid in stunned silence as he exited through the window. You dipped a finger between your legs to check for your period, but you didn't find anything but cum. 

You put on a robe and used your phone's flashlight to get to the bathroom, your body still buzzing everywhere.  You looked in the mirror and almost dropped your phone when you saw your nightgown was smeared with dark blood.

---------

---------

Thank you for reading! I have certain fantasies, and this one really wanted my attention. I used to have sleep paralysis.

[daisies-daydreams]

I’m in desperate need of a desperate Miguel who worships the very ground his wife walks on 😔🙏 BRO IS HUGE AND I JUST KNOW. I JUST KNOW HE WOULD LOVE TO BE LIKE A CAT AND MAKE BISCUITS ON HIS CHUBBY WIFEY. And the ASSets are just sprinkles on the cake. So let’s just say chubby wifey puts on a whole cute outfit and her hair is cute and everything. They go on a date and Yk she gets stares and compliments..BUT MIGUELS POSSESSIVE ASS IS LIKE ‘keep looking..keep saying stuff..BUT THIS ASS IS MINE’ Yk. And then it ends with Miguel bending us over at a 90 degree angle and possible 180. How does he do it idk. Science.

Adore You (Miguel O’Hara x Plus-Size!Wife!Reader)

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Plus-Size!Wife!Reader Category: Fluff/Smut (18+) Warnings: Jealous!Miguel, Swearing, Manhandling, Oral Sex (F!Receiving), Vaginal Fingering, Mating Press, Full Nelson, Unprotected P in V Sex (You know the drill), Rough Sex, Slight Exhibitionism, Creampies, I'm Not Fluent in Spanish Word Count: 5.5k+

A/N: Hi hi! Thank you very much for your request! I love husband!Miguel (that man has my whole heart I swear). I hope you enjoy! 💕

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

The valet’s cheeks flushed the second you stepped out of the car.

“G-Good evening ma’am,” the thin man stammered. You flashed him a friendly smile as you smoothed your hands over your dress, your breasts nearly spilling out from the tight-fitting clothing as you adjusted yourself. Your eyes sparkled as you looked up at the luxurious restaurant before you - a large marble building laced with ribbons of ivy. You smiled when your husband, Miguel, came beside you and gingerly laid a hand on your hip.

“Happy anniversary, cariño,” your beloved whispered with a bright grin [honey]. You beamed and turned around, your hands gliding over his muscular forearms. Miguel’s eyes softened as you raised yourself on your tiptoes and puckered your lips. He smiled and dipped his head down to capture your lips in a warm, tender embrace. His brows furrowed when the valet cleared his throat.

“Right,” your husband muttered as he handed the man his keys. The valet thanked him before climbing into the large, black sports car. You squeaked as Miguel’s hand glided from your hip to the globe of your ass.

“Mi amor,” you whispered loudly as your cheeks flushed [My love]. Your husband chuckled.

“What? I’m just escorting my lovely wife inside,” he mused with a wink.

“Mhm,” you hummed with raised brows. Miguel pecked your forehead as he kept his hand over your bum while leading you inside. You looked around in awe at the several marble pillars that lined the walls of the restaurant.

"O'Hara, party of two," your husband said to the hostess at the front desk. The blonde woman nodded before grabbing two thick menus.

"Please follow me!" she chirped. You smiled at your beloved as the two of you were escorted to the back patio. The sound of piano music combined with the casual chatter of the guests filled your ears as you stepped back outside. You gasped when you saw a table set by the balcony: a bottle of wine neatly placed on the side, a card resting on a plate, and rose petals sprinkled across the white table cloth.

"One of our servers will be out momentarily. Enjoy your evening!" the woman said as she clasped her hands together.

"Thank you," you grinned before she turned and walked back inside. Your heart warmed as Miguel took your smaller hand into his.

“Do you like it?” he asked before kissing each and every one of your knuckles. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you nodded.

“I love it. Muchas gracias, mi vida,” you sniffed [Thank you so much, my life]. Your husband smiled and cupped your cheek.

"De nada, mi amor," he whispered [You’re welcome]. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as Miguel stepped over and pulled out your chair.

"Mi señora," he hummed [My lady].

"Gracias, mi caballero," you giggled as you took your seat [Thank you, my gentleman]. Miguel kissed the top of your head just as your waiter strolled up to the table.

“Welcome to Le Jardin de Marbre! My name is Mark and I’ll be taking care of you this...fine evening,” the dark-haired man lilted as his eyes grazed over your form. You felt Miguel shift behind you before Mark's smile fell. He cleared his throat while your husband took his seat. “Would the two of you care for any other drinks besides your wine?” the waiter asked.

“Yes, I'll have a water, please,” you replied. Miguel simply nodded with a short grunt. Mark grinned before popping open the bottle of red wine. You gasped as the cork flew over your head and over the balcony.

“Ah, I’ll get it later,” the waiter laughed nervously. You giggled while Miguel’s furrowed his thick brows. Mark leaned close to you while he tilted the neck of the bottle over your sparkling glass.

“Might I say you look wonderful this evening, ma’am,” the bold man whispered. You flushed a little as you gazed back down at the menu.

“Th-Thank you,” you muttered. You blinked as you shifted your gaze between your glass and the bottle. “Um, that’s good,” you piped up. Mark looked down to see that he’s nearly filled your entire glass.

“Sorry about that,” he said with an apologetic smile. Miguel raised a brow as he poured his drink next. Mark's hands shook as your husband's frown slowly shifted into a deep scowl. The server placed the bottle down before stepping back.

“I’ll go get your waters,” Mark said before quickly turning on his heel. You took a small sip of your wine, the slightly sweet flavor washing over your taste buds as you turned your attention to the card in front of you.

“Would you like me to open it now?” you asked.

“I'll leave it up to you,” he smiled before taking a sip of his drink. Your heart skipped a beat as you carefully ripped the envelope open. You pulled the card out with a giddy smile as you straightened in your seat. You smiled as you opened it, a small postcard slipping out. You eyed it briefly before your attention was stolen by the words in front of you:

“Mi Cielo,

Words can’t describe how much love I have for you. Every day I’m thankful to have you as my wife-my beloved. You make my heart glow when I wake up next to you every morning, when I get home from work, when you hold me after I’ve had a long day. You are so precious, (Y/N), and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with someone as incredible as you.

Te amo mucho, mi vida. Feliz aniversario.

Sincerely,

Tu gran oso”

Tears streamed down your cheeks as your bottom lip trembled.

“Lo siento, mi amor. I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Miguel cooed as he brushed his thumb over your cheek [I’m sorry, my life]. You shook your head.

“No, it’s okay. I’m just so, so happy to have someone as amazing as you in my life,” you beamed. Miguel’s eyes softened as he slipped his hand into yours again.

“Gracias, bella,” he murmured [Thank you, beautiful]. “Did you see the little gift I left in there?” Miguel asked with a sparkle in his eye. You glanced down at your lap to see the postcard staring up at you. Your heart raced as you picked it up, admiring the picturesque image of Niagara Falls. You curiously flipped it over.

“Make sure to bring your raincoat ♥️”

You gasped and looked up.

“You mean…” your voice trailed off. Miguel smiled brightly and nodded.

“I was even able to book the same suite. It’s only for a long weekend, but I know those few days will be well spent with you, mi vida,” he cooed as he kissed your hand. You couldn’t stop yourself from getting up and wrapping your arms around your husband, your heart brimming with joy.

You’ll never forget that day he took you to Niagara Falls. It was a complete surprise when Miguel knelt down on the deck of your hotel room, the rumble of the falls filling your ears as he asked you to spend the rest of your life with him.

“Te amo mucho, gran oso,” you sniffed [I love you very much, big bear]. Miguel cupped your cheek before pressing another tender kiss to your lips.

“Te amo mucho, conejita,” Miguel beamed [I love you very much, little bunny]. You bit your lip as you pulled back and took your seat. Your heart pounded against your sternum as you pulled out the small box from your purse.

“My gift isn’t as big,” you said a little sheepishly. Miguel parted his lips as you handed the box to him.

“Oh, bebé. You know I’ll love any gift you give me,” he cooed [baby]. He leaned in closer. “Size doesn’t matter, right?” Miguel smirked. You rolled your eyes and laughed.

“Right…it’s how you use it,” you reply with a wry grin. Miguel shook his head as he chuckled.

“I love your quick wit, conejita,” your beloved hummed. You leaned forward on your elbows as you watched Miguel start to unwrap his gift. You bit your lip as he pulled the lid off with a quiet "pop". His eyes lit up when he saw a silver watch glisten beneath the dim candlelight. You squeezed your hands in your lap as he slipped it out of the box.

“Oh, hermosa,” Miguel breathed as he slid the watch against his wrist [beautiful]. You bit your lip a little harder as he admired it. “The very first gift you gave me,” he murmured softly. You nodded as you rubbed the back of your neck.

“I know you said that you’ve been meaning to get it fixed for a while, so I stopped by the jewelers last month,” you said. Miguel clasped the watch over his wrist, smiling as he observed the hands of the little clock tick by.

“Thank you so much, (Y/N),” Miguel smiled as he leaned forward. Your heart skipped a beat as you met him in the middle, your lips slowly caressing each other in a loving embrace. You sighed as he cupped your cheek, your heart fluttering as his warm lips sweetly brushed over yours. You pulled your head back when someone nearby cleared their throat.

“Your water, ma'am,” Mark said as he placed your glass onto the table. "Sir," he said to Miguel with a bit more flat tone. You slumped back in your chair before realizing you haven't even looked at the menu.

"We still need a few minutes," you said to your waiter.

"Of course," Mark said with a bright grin before excusing himself. You and Miguel relaxed as you opened your menus. You smiled at the way the candlelight flickered in Miguel’s soft, brown eyes.

Tonight couldn’t have been more perfect.

+++

You patted your napkin over your mouth before sinking into your seat with a satisfied smile.

“That was the best food I’ve had in a while,” you sighed happily. Your husband quirked one of his thick, dark brows.

“Even better than my cooking?” Miguel asked. Your eyes widened.

“Oh, um, well-“ your husband started to chuckle.

“Don’t worry, hermosa. I know my cooking’s terrible,” he snickered. You giggled.

“I mean, I was going to say something…” you lilted. Miguel placed a hand over his chest as if cradling a fresh wound.

“Ouch,” he replied.

“You said it, not me,” you shrugged before taking another sip of your wine. Miguel chuckled, his eyes half lidded as they raked over your form.

“I think this wine’s making us both a bit too bold,” Miguel smirked. Your cheeks warmed as he gently reached beneath the table and laid his hand on your knee. You bit your lip as a wave of heat swept through your core.

“Maybe that’s not such a bad thing,” you replied with a low whisper. Just as Miguel tilted his head and leaned forward, Mark’s shadow loomed over the two of you.

“Your bill, sir,” he said as he set the paper down on the table. Your love made no effort to hide his annoyance as he took the receipt.

“Thanks,” your husband said. He pulled out his credit card after the server briskly walked away. Miguel sighed and rose from his seat. “I’ll be right back,” he whispered with quick peck to your cheek. You grinned and watched as he walked back into the restaurant.

+++

Miguel hummed as he strolled towards the restroom. It’s been so long since his heart has felt this full. Your smile, your laugh, the smooth, gentle touch of your lips against his all made him feel more complete. Miguel wore a bright grin as he pushed the restroom door wide open.

“Did you see the juicy ass on that chick sitting next to the balcony?” Mark loudly whispered. Miguel froze and lingered in the doorway when he saw two waiters at the urinals.

“Dude, I know. I’d love a piece of that cake…if you know what I mean,” the other server chortled. Miguel narrowed his eyes. Okay, there’s a lot of people out on the patio. Surely they weren’t-

“And that tight, black dress-fuck. Can’t imagine how those pretty tits would look while she’s-“

Both of them whipped their heads around when Miguel let the door slam behind him, a deadly glint flickering in his eyes as his jaw tightened.

“Excuse me, I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation,” he said while straightening his shoulders. Mark frowned as his eyes grew to the size of dinner plates.

“O-Oh,” he simply replied as he awkwardly shuffled in place. Miguel tilted his head, his muscles bulging beneath his crisp suit.

“H-Hey man. We didn’t mean any harm,” the other waiter said as he hastily zipped up his pants. Miguel scoffed and narrowed his eyes.

“Well, I suggest you speak about my wife with much more respect-or any woman for that matter,” he spat. Their faces grew cherry red as Miguel tugged on his jacket. “Now, if you’ll excuse me gentlemen, I’m going to go home and make love to my beautiful wife,” Miguel said as he tugged on his jacket. He scowled as he turned on his heel and stomped back outside.

+++

You blinked as Miguel strolled up to the table. To say he looked enraged would’ve been an understatement: his nostrils were flared, shoulders tensed and face glowing a bright cherry red.

“Miguel, what’s wrong?” you asked as you placed a hand on his large arm. Your husband paused as he glanced towards the glass doors. His eyes became half-lidded as he took your hand into his before pulling you up. You squeaked as he reached down and cupped his other palm against the globe of your ass.

“M-Miguel,” you said in a loud whisper as you nervously glanced around. You could’ve sworn you saw him smirk as the waiter rushed up to your table. Mark’s hands trembled as he threw the credit card and receipt down.

“Thankyouhavealovelyevening!” he squeaked before running back into the building. You furrowed your brows before grabbing your things.

"I wonder what happened to him?" you wondered aloud as you slipped your cards into your purse. Your face glowed with heat as Miguel squeezed your supple ass with more force before guiding you across the patio.

“Miguel, people are looking,” you whispered as your eyes scanned the crowd.

“Let them look,” he replied with a low rumble as he opened the door for you. You tilted your head down as waiters, patrons, even the receptionist stared as your husband escorted you to the front of the building.

Miguel didn’t even need to say anything as the two of you made your way towards the valet stand, the man’s face beet red as you approached. He quickly snatched your keys and rushed to get your car, nearly tripping over the curb in the process. You glanced up at your beloved, his face twisted with even more fury than before. You bit your lip as you turned around and rested your hands on his chest.

“Miguel, bebé, please tell me what’s wrong,” you pleaded while rubbing your palms against his white button-up. Miguel’s shoulders remained stiff as you rubbed his chest, your bottom lip poking out every so slightly. "¿Por favor?" you asked [Please?]. He frowned and glanced away as the valet rolled up with your car and scrambled towards you.

“H-Have a good evening,” the man said, his face completely drained of all color. You gave the valet an apologetic smile before you slid into the black, polished car. The tension on the ride home was nearly unbearable. Miguel’s jaw clenched and unclenched as he kept his eyes on the road, his large hands gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned pale. The sound of soft jazz playing on the radio did little to ease the knot of anxiety tightening in your chest.

Did you do something wrong? Did he actually hate the gift you gave him? He put so much effort into booking the restaurant and the place the two of you stayed where he proposed to you…and what did you give him? A repaired watch.

You felt completely deflated by the time Miguel pulled up to your apartment complex.

“We’re home,” he said in a subdued voice. You nodded, your heart sinking into your stomach as you unbuckled your seatbelt. Your shoes clacked against the sidewalk as the two of you made your way to the front door.

“Evening, Mr. and Mrs. O’Hara,” the doorman Ben said.

"Evening, Ben," you said with a small smile. Your throat tightened when Miguel wrapped one of his bulky arms around you and pulled you to his side. You frowned as the two of you stepped inside, his grip unyielding as you walked into the elevator. You felt Miguel loosen his hold on you, allowing you some space to step back.

“Miguel, what-” you gasped when he pinned you against the wall and captured your mouth in a wet, sloppy kiss. Your breasts rubbed against your strapless bra as you felt him slide his tongue past your lips, his wet muscle tangling with yours as something hard poked at the inside of your thigh. You panted when he pulled back, his pupils blown and drinking in your curvaceous form.

“Y-You’re not mad at me?” you blinked. Your husband furrowed his dark brows.

“Mad? Why would I be mad at you, mi ángel?” Miguel purred as he rested his hands on your hips [my angel]. You gripped the lapels of his navy blue jacket as he began to grind his hard cock against your clothed pussy. You bit your lip as a pulse of arousal shot through your core.

“Te deseo, Mami,” your love groaned [I want you, Mommy]. You gasped as he rubbed his hard, throbbing cock against your crotch while he kneaded the supple flesh of your waist. “God, you have no idea how much I wanted to rip this dress off your body and fuck you right on that patio,” he rumbled and nipped at the shell of your ear. You shivered as Miguel trailed his lips over your pulse.

“Miguel,” you panted as he ground his hips against you, your clit throbbing against the fabric of your silky panties. Your husband pulled back as soon as the elevator dinged.

“Mi amor, por fa - te necesito,” he husked as he dipped his hand beneath your chin and tilted your head up [My love, please - I need you]. You felt your inhibitions quickly dissolve as a wave of heat pulsed through your core.

“Soy todo tuyo,” you whispered as you laid your hands over his chest [I’m yours]. You moaned as he bared his teeth against your neck and slid his hands over your plump ass. You squeaked and ducked your head into his broad shoulder when he slapped your rear, the slight sting sending ripples of arousal through your heat.

“I’m going to make sure you never forget this night,” Miguel growled as he kneaded your supple cheeks in his massive palms. Your heart raced as he picked you up by your waist and carried you into the penthouse. You dropped your purse on the tiled floor as you threaded your fingers through his dark, silky locks. Miguel groaned as your lips met in a passionate dance, your tongues gliding across one another with a soft squelch. You hungrily devoured each other’s mouths in a heated kiss as he kicked the bedroom door open. You squeaked at the sudden noise and tensed in his arms.

“Lo siento. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Miguel whispered, his plump lips dancing over yours [I’m sorry].

“It’s okay,” you murmured gently, your hands falling down to wrap around his thick neck. Your husband's eyes raked across your body as he laid you down on the plush, king-sized bed. You dug your nails into the back of his neck as he suckled over the nape of your neck, his deft fingers rolling the skirt of your dress over your hips. He sucked in a sharp breath when he laid eyes on your clothed sex.

“See what you do to me, bebé?” Miguel groaned before taking your hand and trailing it down his shirt. Your breath hitched when you felt the heavy, hard cock twitch against your palm. You bit your lip and mewled as your love nipped at your soft skin.

“Papi, fuck,” you gasped as he slid your thong to the side and rubbed at your slick, puffy folds with his digits. You husband rumbled as he spread your pussy lips apart with his thick fingers.

"Mm, tan mojada," Miguel groaned with a smirk [so wet].

"Please, Miguel," you swallowed thickly as you spread your legs as much as you could. Your husband licked his lips as he locked eyes with you.

"Don't worry, baby. Just need to make sure you're stretched out for my cock first," he rumbled. Your mouth opened in a silent moan when he suddenly sank two of his thick digits inside your tight, weeping hole.

“Oh my God!” you shivered and gripped the sheets as he curled his fingertips against your sensitive, spongey g-spot. Your gummy walls clenched around his two digits as Miguel chuckled. He parted his lips as he massaged your hip, his eyes lit with a deep, primal hunger.

“That’s it, bebé. Keep making those pretty noises for me,” Miguel grunted as relentlessly thrusted his fingers inside your plush cunt. Your eyes widened as he kissed down your chest and stomach before hovering his lips over your mound.

“S-Shit!” you moaned and arched your back as your husband dipped his head down and eagerly suckled on your bundle of nerves. Miguel grunted against your juicy slit, your arousal smearing over his broad chin as you ground your hips against his face. “M-Miguel, baby,” you groaned as your love flattened his warm tongue over your engorged bud.

“Tan bueno - sabe tan bien,” he growled against your wet folds before lapping at your clit [So good - tastes so good]. Tears of pleasure pricked at the corners of your eyes as Miguel continued to fuck your tight pussy with his thick fingers.

“Bebé,” you choked as you felt his digits stretch you out while he swirled his tongue around your bundle of nerves. Your jaw went slack when he curled his fingers inside you again, letting the intoxicating pressure linger for much longer.

“Make a mess on my face, Mami,” your husband urged with a low growl. A high-pitched cry left your swollen lips as Miguel eagerly pumped his fingers in and out of your tight, slick hole, the tension in your lower belly growing tighter and tighter.

“S-Sí Papi - just like that,” you encouraged him as you fisted the crisp bedsheets. Miguel groaned as your arousal dripped down his chin and neck, his tongue painting bold, wet stripes from your stuffed hole and all the way up to your clit. Your eyes rolled back as he pumped his fingers even faster while puckering his lips around your bundle of nerves.

“M-Miguel!” you squealed when he suddenly pulled his fingers out, leaving your hole puckering and begging for more. A bolt of pleasure struck through you when he started to hastily unbuckle his belt.

“Lo siento, mi vida. I can’t wait anymore,” Miguel growled as he shoved his slacks and briefs down in one swift motion. Your cunt fluttered when you saw his thick, heavy cock spring free, a thick bead of precum adorning his flush tip. Your husband's eyes remained on your dripping cunt as he shoved his jacket and white button-up onto the floor. Your mouth watered as you stared at the mortal Adonis standing in front of you, his rippling muscles tensing as he pumped his girthy shaft.

You gasped as he quickly climbed on top of you and cupped his palms against the back of your knees. You squealed when Miguel pushed your legs towards your shoulders, your puffy tummy poking out as he nearly folded you in half.

“Ah!” you cried as he slammed his cock inside you in one fluid thrust. Your legs tensed in his grip as you tried to adjust to the sudden fullness inside you, his girth stretching your tight hole with a delicious burn.

“Eyes on me, conejita,” Miguel murmured, his hot breath falling over your face and neck. You glanced through the sheet of tears that blurred your vision, your body quaking with pleasure as you felt the head of his cock kiss your cervix.

“I want you to make as much noise as you'd like. Don't worry about the neighbors...for tonight, it's just the two of us. Okay, Mami?” Miguel rasped before nipping the shell of your ear. You whined as your walls ached for the sweet drag of his veiny cock. You nodded vigorously as you bit your lip, the heaviness of his cock deliciously weighing in your tight hole.

"Such a good little wife," Miguel grunted as he pulled his taut hips back. Your heart skipped a beat as Miguel rested his forehead against yours before he sheathed his cock down to the hilt.

“Fuck!" you choked as you felt the slight sting of his cock molding your walls to its shape.

“God, I love how your tight, perfect pussy grips me,” Miguel murmured as he rocked his hips back and forth. His breath hitched as your walls squeezed his veiny shaft. Your cheeks burned as he wrapped his lips around yours while he thrusted into you at a rapid, sloppy pace.

“M-Miguel!” you screamed and wrung your hands in the sheets as your lover pounded into your cunt, each drag of his cock deliciously stretching you out more and more. You squealed as Miguel squeezed the back of your knees, his balls slapping against your plump asscheeks. You shivered as he released a deep growl, his cock throbbing and twitching between your swollen, gummy walls.

“R-Right there Papi!” you yelled as the bulbous head of his cock perfectly grazed over your g-spot. You threw your head back as your husband leaned forward and wrapped his lips around yours while he desperately pounded into your raw cunt.

“So good, so good to me," he panted. You moaned as you felt your cunt already starting to clamp down on his shaft.

“M-Miguel, wait! I’m gonna-” you were cut off when he pressed his lips to your neck, his hips snapping against yours and making your thick asscheeks clap loudly.

“Cum for me, conejita,” he grunted. Your bottom lip trembled as the tight knot in your belly suddenly snapped.

“MIGUEL!” you screamed as your slick walls clenched around his girth. Miguel’s thrusts stuttered as your pussy squeezed his cock in a vice grip, your slick gushing past the stuffed seam of your raw, tight cunt.

“Mierda,” your husband breathed as you unraveled beneath him [Shit]. You babbled as your cunt pulsed; every contraction sending an overwhelming wave of bliss over your trembling form. You moaned as Miguel continued to thrust his cock inside your weeping cunt, your arousal sticking to the front of his thighs as he groaned above you. Hot tears rolled down your puffy cheeks when Miguel suddenly pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach.

“Miguel?” you breathed as your heart raced. Your squealed as your husband pulled you up and wrapped his arms beneath your knees.

“Unphase the blinds to level zero,” Miguel rumbled. Your eyes widened as he lifted you up and immediately sheathed you down on his stiff cock, your slick pussy swallowing his length whole.

“¡P-Papi!” you gasped as he carried you over to your wide bedroom windows, the holographic blinds slowly fading to reveal the neon glow of Nueva York. Your thighs shook in his bulky arms as he froze just inches from the window. Your heart raced as you gazed at the lewd reflection of yourself in the crystal glass, your hot breath fogging against the clear surface.

Your jaw went slack as Miguel started to thrust into your wet heat, your gushing cunt squelching with each snap of his hips.

“Look down there, mi amor. Look at all those men who will never be able to fuck you like I do,” he rasped as he bounced you on his shaft. Your eyes glazed over as you gazed down at the streets below. You’d be more embarrassed had you not just cum on your husband’s dick…but there was a tiny part of you that indulged in being claimed by your beloved. “They’ll never get to hear your pretty moans, feel your soft, perfect pussy grip their cocks,” Miguel growled as he nipped at your neck. You dug your nails into his forearm as he pounded into your cunt with no restraint, his breathing growing ragged and arms tensing beneath your legs.

“Say you’re mine, (Y/N),” he groaned before puckering his lips over your pulse. You moaned as shook in his hold as you tried to swim through the haze of your ecstasy.

“I-I’m yours, Papi!” you screamed. You gasped as Miguel raked his teeth over your hickey.

“Who do you belong to?!” he snarled. You sobbed as your cunt greedily sucked in his cock with.

“I belong to you, Miguel!” you moaned loudly. You mewled as your arousal leaked onto the floor.

“Good girl, good fucking girl,” your husband groaned as he kissed your cheek before thrusting even faster.

“Mmmm-Miguel,” you slurred. You screamed silently as he sank his teeth into your shoulder, the slight sting mixing with the intoxicating pleasure that rippled through your core. Your throat tightened as his cock dragged along your soft walls, your slick dripping down the inside of your thighs and gliding over your jiggling asscheeks.

“Gonna cum for me again, hm?” Miguel husked before tracing the tip of his tongue across the fresh bite mark.

“S-Sí, Papi,” you whined. You felt him smirk against your shoulder as he kept you in front of the window, your heart racing at the thought of someone seeing the two of you in such an intimate position. You moaned as his thrusts began to falter, his hot breath falling over your exposed skin.

“M-Mig-!” you shouted as your vision was flooded with white.

“Yes, that’s it Mami. S-Soak this fat fucking cock with your sweet cum,” your husband rasped as you threw your head against his shoulder.

“Fuck,” you sobbed as a wave of pleasure rushed through your heat, your pussy squirting all over his massive, swollen cock. Miguel groaned as he squeezed your legs.

“So close,” he hissed through gritted teeth as his cock twitched inside your fluttering walls. You gripped your hands over his as your body jiggled with every powerful snap of his hips.

“Por fa Papi…fill me,” you whispered breathily. Miguel grunted against your neck as he slammed you down on his cock for the last time. Both of you moaned as he painted your slick walls white with thick, heavy ropes of his seed. You felt Miguel shiver behind you as his cock throbbed, his warm cum splashing against your swollen cervix.

“Yes,” Miguel growled deeply as he kept your back pressed to his chest. You swallowed thickly and shuddered as his cock began to soften inside you, thick beads of his cum swelling and dripping down the curve of your ass. The air was filled with your deep, heavy breaths, your bodies coated in a thin sheen of sweat.

“That was…wow,” you didn’t even have the mental capacity to describe what just happened. Miguel chuckled softly and nodded.

“Yeah,” he grinned and pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. You squealed as he gave your legs another gentle squeeze. “Activate blinds to ten,” Miguel called out. The windows soon fogged up with the holographic blinds again as he took a step back. Your eyelids began to grow heavy as he carried you to bed. You whimpered when your giant husband laid both of you down, his cock softening between your raw, oversensitive walls. You sighed as you felt his hands mindlessly wander across your body, his lips grazing your neck every so often.

“Do you want to take a shower?” Miguel murmured as his lips dancing over your pulse. You sighed.

“Actually, could we just stay here for a little bit?” you asked and slightly turned his face. The corners of your husband’s eyes crinkled as he gave you a gentle smile.

“Of course, mi amor,” he purred and pecked your lips. You returned his grin as he kept you against his chest, his large, bulky arms wrapped around you like a cozy cocoon. You kissed his bulging bicep before tracing your fingertips across the many dips and curves of his arm. Miguel sighed as he nuzzled his face against your neck, his warm breath tickling over your pulse.

“Te amo mucho, (Y/N),” your beloved whispered before gently kissing your cheek. You sighed as you relished in the way his lips lingered on your skin while you closed your eyes.

“Te amo mucho, Miguel,” you murmured softly.

----

Thank you for reading! 💖

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[derangedangel]

Killer Duo - Isaac Lahey

Summary: Lydia’s throwing a Halloween party and your costume coordinates with Isaac’s

Isaac Lahey x Reader

Word Count: 1,591

Author’s Note: Apparently this was in my drafts in 2019 and I finished it in 2020. Why it never got posted, I’m not sure. The timing of this is funny cause I’m currently at work dressed as the character Isaac is dressed as. Anyway, reblogs and comments are appreciated. Happy Halloween!

“Lydia, I haven’t dressed up for Halloween since I was 12,” you said walking around looking at all the creepy Halloween decorations.

“And this is a costume party. You have to dress up or you can’t go,” Lydia replied walking in front of you heading straight for the costumes. 

“I have no idea what I should be. And most Halloween costumes for women are sexy now, which really means they’re short and inappropriate, and I am not doing that.”

The strawberry blonde rolled her eyes. “You haven’t even looked at any costumes yet and your already jumping to conclusions.”

“I’m just pointing out facts. Halloween used to be fun, then I grew up.”

“And now you’re at the age where you can dress up again,” Lydia smiled at you. “There’s just no candy this time.”

“So what’s the point,” you joked.

“Just come on,” Lydia said grabbing your arm pulling you towards the superhero costumes first. 

The two of you began to look through the racks of clothes. You ran a mental checklist of everything that wouldn’t work for you. 

Batgirl? No.

Iron Man? No.

Elastigirl? Hell no.

“Oh, what about Wonder Woman,” Lydia asked holding up the iconic armor for you to see. 

“Ehh,” you said fidgeting on your feet, “I don’t feel comfortable having my ass out.”

“Okay,” Lydia said sighing at how difficult you were making this. She stood next to you scanning the the other costumes in the superhero section and decided you were going to like any of them.

“What about a witch,” she asked.

“I guess I could be that,” you replied halfheartedly.

“No, I don’t want you buying something you don’t love. That’s the number one rule in fashion.”

“Lydia, why don’t you just look for your costume and I’ll find mines. I don’t want you to keep pulling outfits and I hate them all.”

Lydia turned and faced you. “Honey, I bought my costume weeks ago. No one is going to be wearing the same thing as me at my own party.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Duh, I should have known you already had your costume ready to go.”

“Yes, so this trip is all about you, my dear,” Lydia said tapping you on the nose making you smile. 

“Fine,” you replied. “Well, let’s go look at something a little more spookier then.”

_____________

“Barbie, eat your heart out.”

Lydia walked up behind you in the mirror and nodded. “You look good.”

“I look killer,” you laughed and Lydia smiled shaking her head. 

You looked at yourself in the mirror admiring your white dress, leather jacket, and combat boots. You grabbed your eyeliner pencil and added the final touch. Tiffany’s mole. 

Perfect.

As soon as you saw the Bride of Chucky costume, you knew you needed it. Lydia was just happy you didn’t go with Chucky so you didn’t mess up her bathroom adding all the wounds and fake blood on your face. 

About an hour later, the party was well under way and you already made your first rounds with Lydia. Now she off doing other hostess duties and you were people watching against the wall.

You saw Isaac across the room and smiled to yourself. You excused yourself through the crowd as you made your way across the room.

“Hey, Isaac. Nice costume,” you greeted, looking up at the tall burette in front of you. Well, he wasn’t brunette right now. He was wearing a red wig and a pair of Good Guys overalls. You snickered to yourself. Of course the guy you had a crush on would be dressed up as Chucky. He was basically the salt to your pepper.

“Thanks,” Isaac said, a grin lining his face. “And you are a... biker bride?”

You looked at Isaac confused and shocked. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“What,” Isaac smiled confused at your response. “Should I know who you are?”

“Yes,” you said laughing. You gawked at him as you held up your plastic bloody knife and pointed to your “Tiff” necklace. His eyebrow furrowed in confusion.

“I’m Tiffany...”

Isaac shook his head still lost.

“The Bride of Chucky...”

“Sorry. Still don’t know who that is.”

“Oh my God. Isaac, how are you dressed up as Chucky but don’t know who Tiffany is?”

Isaac shrugged. “Honestly, I wasn’t planning on wearing a costume, but Lydia said I had to, then showed up to Scott’s house with this.”

You shook your head, laughing to yourself. “Of course she did.”

“Am I missing something,” Isaac asked wanting in on the joke.

“Lydia knew I was dressing up as Tiffany and she made you be Chucky... we’re basically a couple’s costume.”

“We are,” Isaac asked, his eyebrow raised and smirk slowly growing on his face.

“Uhh, I- I mean sorta,” you replied fidgeting where you stood. “Especially, now when we’re standing next to each other.”

Isaac took a step closer to you. “So I guess I better keep you close then.”

You’re eyes grew big but before you could response you were interrupted. 

“There you two are,” Lydia said walking up to you and Isaac. Her blonde ponytail wig bouncing with each step she took. She definitely was the only I Dream of Jeannie here. You doubted if most of the party even knew who she was, but they all knew she looked good. “Well don’t you look cozy together.”

“Lydia,” you said a little too sweetly for anyone’s liking. “I hear we have you to thank for Isaac’s costume.”

“What,” Lydia asked like she didn’t basically have you and Isaac in a couple’s costume. “I couldn’t have him come to my Halloween party not dressed up.”

“Yeah, sure,” you scoffed crossing your arms over your chest.

“Anyway, everyone’s outside so we can take a group pic before anyone is too intoxicated to do it later.” 

“Lydia,” Stiles yelped running up. “Oh, hey guys,” he said waving to you and Isaac. You smiled and waved back before he began talking to Lydia. He was dressed up as Captain Tony Nelson, the perfect couple’s costume to Lydia’s Jeannie. “Um, so, I may or may not have gotten my Captain’s hat stuck on the roof... okay I definitely did. But it was Scott’s fault!”

“Seriously, Stiles,” Lydia fumed. “God,” she whispered under her breath shaking her head before turning to you. “Give it about ten minutes before the picture so I can get his hat down.” 

You laughed nodding your head. “Okay.”

The couple walked away, leaving you alone with Isaac. “Um, I’m going to go get something to drink. See you outside in ten?”

“Yeah,” Isaac said, giving you a slow and sexy smile. 

You turned and headed for the kitchen, letting out a long breath as you did. Isaac’s whole existence was driving you crazy. Although you did like the blue eyed boy, and you’ve been wanting something to happen for a while, he was making you incredibly nervous. You’d rather avoid him instead of potential embarrassing yourself. 

After you filled your red solo cup with the fruity punch being served, one of your classmates came up to you.

“Hey Y/N, cute costume.”

“Thanks!”

“I didn’t know you and Isaac were a thing.”

“Huh,” you asked confused.

“The couple’s costume,” they said hesitantly. “Chucky and Tiffany.”

“Ohh, duh” you said to yourself when you realized. “We’re not dating. We just happened to wear costumes that went together.”

“Oh... well, the two of you look good together,” they said shrugging then walked away.

All your friends were already outside ready to take the picture. Lydia handed her phone to the designated photographer, then went to stand next to Stiles. Scott was in the middle, with Kira next to him. Malia was next to Kira, while Stiles and Lydia were on the other side of Scott. You stood next to Malia, throwing your arm over your friend’s shoulder. Isaac stood near Stiles. 

After two pics were snapped, Lydia went to check the photos. She grabbed her phone, then looked up at the group. “Somethings not right...,” she said out loud, thinking to herself. “I know!” She grabbed Isaac by his arm and pulled him over to where you were standing. “That’s better. You’re costumes go together, so it makes sense,” she said smiling. She mumbled a quick you’re welcome to you before she handed the camera back over and went back to her place next to Stiles.

The person taking the pictures counted down “3, 2, 1,” then snapped a pic. But before you got to one, Isaac grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into him. You shrieked in response then started laughing. 

“Okay, now a funny one,” Scott yelled so everyone could hear. 

Isaac didn’t hesitate, quickly picking you up bridal style. You yelped, then immediately stuck your tongue out at him. Lydia’s phone flashed as the picture was taken, then everyone stopped doing their poses, but Isaac didn’t put you down.

You giggled before you spoke. “You can put me down now, Isaac. The picture’s over.”

“I said I should keep you close. So that’s what I’m doing,” he said smiling down at you in his arms. “And besides, if we’re next to each other people will think we’re a couple, so no guy will ask you to dance.”

You titled your head to the side, your eyes squinted slightly. “But we’re not a couple.”

“Give it a few weeks.”

Your mouth dropped in a silent gasp, slowly turning into a huge grin. You heard Kira giggling behind you and Stiles’s “yuck.”

[fluentmoviequoter]

Speak Up

Requested Here!

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x shy!fem!reader

Summary: Your shyness makes it hard to speak up for yourself. Your boyfriend Deacon makes it easy.

Warnings: angst?, reader is belittled and harassed, fluff and comfort!

Word Count: 1.7k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Deacon Kay is unlike any other boyfriend you’ve ever had. Though you are used to disappointment and broken relationships, many of which you blame on your shyness, you know that what you have with Deacon is different. Your relationship is fairly new, you’ve been together less than a year, yet you survived the honeymoon phase and the weeks that followed. Perhaps the most incredible part of Deacon and the relationship you’re building with him is how he treats you. From the beginning, Deacon acknowledged your shyness but has never abused it or treated it as a flaw. He supports you, talks for you when you struggle, and has never shamed you for being shy or falling into quiet moments.

As you move around your home, getting ready to meet Deacon, you realize that Deacon doesn’t know the full extent of your shyness. He knows that you have trouble talking to strangers and look away when he compliments you to hide your warming cheeks. The other part, the one that leads you to be quiet because you know people won’t listen even if you did speak, the one that drives you to watch videos on how to stand up for yourself, is the side that Deacon hasn’t seen. Your phone buzzes and you forget about your struggles being shy as you see Deacon’s name appear on the screen.

You smile at his text, a simple message that he’s looking forward to seeing you. Once you’re ready, you slide your phone into your bag and exit your home. Deacon often runs late for dates, but you don’t mind waiting for him. You’d wait forever for a man like Deacon.

At the restaurant, you linger by the door for a moment. There was no sign of Deacon’s car in the parking lot, but it’s so busy tonight that you wouldn’t be able to see him even if he was here. You consider asking the hostess if Deacon’s here yet, but there’s a crowd around her stand.

“Are you in line?” someone asks behind you.

“No, sorry,” you answer softly as you step out of the way.

“What was that?” the woman asks.

You shake your head this time, and she laughs in your face. There’s nothing to say in response to that, nothing you want to say at least, but when she turns and calls her friends over, your eyes drop to the floor.

“Aw, she can’t even talk,” one of her friends says over their laughter.

“Did you get stood up, honey?” the first woman adds. “I can see why.”

With your eyes on the floor and your bottom lip pinched between your teeth, you don’t see Deacon walk in. You also don’t see him stop to watch the high-school-level bullying you’re facing just for being quiet. He wonders how often you deal with this; how many people have treated you like a doormat that can’t argue rather than the amazing, beautiful woman you are.

“Hey,” Deacon says as he walks to your side.

You close your eyes and sigh in relief when his arm circles your shoulders. However, you tense when you realize what he just witnessed.

“Go back to your table and harass each other,” Deacon tells the woman.

“We were just having a little fun, handsome,” she argues.

“I’m not.”

She rolls her eyes and leads her friends away, whispering about you even as they leave. You want to take Deacon’s hand and thank him, but he steps back before you can.

“Come on,” he urges kindly.

You allow him to take your hand and follow Deacon to your table. Rather than sit across from him, you slide into the same side of the booth and look toward Deacon. He smiles at you, his eyes nothing but caring and loving. Nothing like the judgemental look of the women earlier.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “But it’s fine. I’m used to it.”

“It’s not fine,” Deacon argues firmly but kindly. He takes your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles. “And you shouldn’t be used to it.”

You shrug, and Deacon raises his other hand to your jaw. He cups it gently as he repeats, “It’s not fine. And what they said wasn’t true. You’re not different or undesirable.”

You nod; the only reason you believe him is because he shows you daily.

“You deserve better than that,” he continues. “I’m not going to convince you to stand up for yourself if that’s not what you want. This isn’t about becoming someone you’re not to stop that from happening, okay?”

“I know,” you assure.

“Besides, you don’t have to do anything about people like that when I’m here.”

You chuckle as he puffs his chest, then lean against his shoulder as you examine the menu before you. Speaking up for yourself won’t be easy any time soon, maybe never, but you know that Deacon will always be here to tell you the truth.

Deacon thinks that he can read you well, and after what he witnessed at the restaurant, he’s convinced that he is getting even better and knowing what you need and want without asking. As you sit on his couch the next evening for movie night, he gets confirmation.

Your legs are folded underneath you, but your shoulders are rigid as you toy with your fingers. You need something, Deacon thinks, and though he’s told you everything here is as much yours as it is his, you struggle to help yourself to what you want. And sometimes, you can’t bring yourself to ask.

“Are you okay?” Deacon inquires during a lull in the movie plot.

You nod and send him a small smile in reply.

“I’m going to the kitchen for a refill. Do you need anything?”

Your eyes drop quickly, but you answer, “No, thanks.”

“You can talk to me, you know that, right? Anything you want to ask, I’ll do it,” Deacon adds.

“I…” You pause as you try to find the right words to say. “Thanks.”

“For?”

“Most people, in the past, I mean, tried to force me to talk. When they thought I needed something, they kept pushing, but that makes it worse. So, thanks for inviting me to ask.”

Deacon’s jaw clenches quickly. He gets angry for you sometimes, and upon hearing that people have pushed you to talk when you are obviously shy angers him tonight. There’s no reason to force you to talk, Deacon thinks, because you’ll ask when you’re ready. And the more comfortable you get, the quicker it comes. Last week you left his side to get a snack and he’d never been so happy to be abandoned on the couch. But right now, rather than letting his anger show, Deacon pulls you into a hug. You happily wrap your arms around one of his and lean closer to his side as the move continues.

Deacon can’t help but smile when you ask, “Do you have more popcorn?” ten minutes later.

“Can you help me with something?” you ask Deacon.

“Of course,” he answers without hesitation.

“You don’t know what it is yet.”

“Of course,” he repeats firmly.

“Okay… I want to learn to speak up for myself. If I can.”

“You can.”

“Online it says to be prepared, identify your feelings, be assertive, set boundaries, and be confident. I don’t know if I can do all of that all the time.”

“You’ve researched this?” Deacon asks.

“Is that weird?”

“No, no, and it’s good advice, but a lot to remember. Maybe that’s just my brain getting old.”

You laugh and gently shove Deacon’s shoulder. He grabs your wrist and uses it to pull you closer.

“What if, next time someone says something you don’t like, you ask them to stop? Not much to remember and it would be over quickly.”

You nod as you lean against Deacon’s chest. “What if they don’t stop?”

“Walk away.”

Before you can ask if Deacon has any advice on what to say, he kisses you, and you forget about the question. With Deacon beside you, you feel like you can do anything. Even learn to stand up and speak up for yourself.

“Can I have another kiss?” you ask boldly after he pulls back.

Deacon smiles and rewards you with several kisses instead of the one you asked for.

Waiting in the police station isn’t something you do often. Deacon usually meets you in HQ, but he’s in a meeting, so you take a seat in the lobby.

“Hey, aren’t you dating Sergeant Kay?” an officer asks.

You look up and nod, surprised that anyone can recognize you as Deacon’s girlfriend.

“Yeah, you’re the one that never talks. How can you think he actually loves you if he doesn’t even know you?”

“I’d rather not talk about my relationship with you,” you respond.

Your soft and polite version of asking him to stop only spurs him to continue. As the officer continues making inappropriate and unwelcome comments about how unhappy Deacon must be with you, you stand. Deacon once told you that you were welcome to come into HQ if he was running late. So, you’re taking his advice to leave the situation because the person you spoke up to didn’t listen.

“Who will do all your bidding when Deacon gets tired and leaves you?” he asks, following you into the hallway.

“Stop,” you demand.

“Or what? You’ll give me the silent treatment?” the officer taunts.

“Officer Duncan!” Deacon calls as he enters the hall. “Sounds to me like you’re interested in armory duty.”

“Sergeant Kay,” he replies quickly. “No, sir, I was just talking to your girlfriend here.”

“Really? Because it sounded to me like you were pushing her after she told you to stop. Do you do that often, Duncan? I’m sure IA would love to make an inquiry into your treatment of women on and off the force, if so.”

“I’m sorry,” Officer Duncan tells you. “Excuse me.”

Deacon smiles once you’re alone and hugs you tightly.

“You did so well,” he applauds quietly.

You duck your chin to hide against his shoulder, but the truth is that you’re proud of yourself, too. The shyness inside you won’t disappear, but with Deacon teaching you to speak up for yourself and helping you when you can’t, it’s not so bad.

“I love you,” you say against Deacon’s shoulder.

“I love you,” Deacon replies.

He proves it with a kiss, and you find that you’re not shy about the public affection. Deacon is good for you, and he always will be.

[indiefilmfatale]

long night? (cole x fem!reader)

gifs by 38across^ plot: you get the pleasure to watch cole play in one of molly's games, so he takes you to his room and shows you what he's made of content warnings: server/patron dynamic, dirty talk, doggy style, daddy kink, penetrative & unprotected sex, rough sex word count: 2.5k a/n: so i just watched molly's game and can't stop thinking about joe's lingering glances on all the sexy women so here we are smut below the cut!

You can’t take your eyes off of him. Something about the way he confidently puts his chips down, inching his card upward so he can sneak a peek. He smokes cigarette after cigarette, smoke perfuming out of his mouth as he stares down at the table. He’s not stressed if he’s down a bet, or even if he loses entirely. His demeanor stays cool no matter what.

Not to mention the way he keeps glancing up at you. You meet his gaze everytime. The most you’ve gotten out of him is a cunning chuckle, the occasional shift of his eyes up and down your body as he inhales a puff of tobacco.

But every time he raises his finger to order a drink, you give Ursula —the only other server in the room— a side eye and she gets the message right away. It’s not uncommon for players to take a server home, especially given the required uniform of a tight cocktail dress and 4-inch minimum stilettos. So it was a customary practice between hostesses to claim a player at the table, taking them all of their drinks and performing flirty bits of banter when you did. Last week Ursula took home the hot art dealer with the infamous 9-inch dick. So this week, it’s your pick of the draw.

And amongst the slew of old businessmen and retired actors, Cole — the 20-something trust fund kid — was the obvious choice.

He shakes his empty scotch glass in the air, eyes not leaving the poker table, another unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. You’d almost be offended if he wasn’t so handsome. You dutifully tap the counter and Pascal the bartender pours another glass. You put it on a server tray and walk over to him, staring at him relentlessly as you strut. Your heels don’t make a sound on the Plaza suite floor, so he doesn’t even notice you until you’re hovering beside him.

You place his empty glass onto your tray, replacing it with the new one. He leans back in his chair, unsurprised by your presence but not at all invaded. He smirks, the stick of nicotine floundering upward like it's a toothpick. You take a zippo lighter from your tray and light it with a flick, offering the flame to him. He leans forward just enough to light it, eyes darting to yours.

In this quiet moment, you can’t help but take in the view, for just the second it takes for his cigarette to burn. His shirt is unbuttoned just enough for his dark chest hair to peak out under a single gold chain. His dress pants scrunch up around his groin revealing a subtle bulge. His hair has been combed through with his fingers all night, now slightly disheveled with a few strands brushing over his face.

“Thanks, honey.” He acknowledges, eyes lingering at where your dress ends.

You don’t say a word. You’re not supposed to when cards are on the table. And Molly took a leap of faith in you in this job, so you don’t want to disappoint her. She’s in the corner behind her laptop and reading glasses, as usual, watching everything with a knowing surveillance.

So you just turn around unhurriedly, walking back to the bar counter, feeling Cole’s stare on your ass which admittedly looked amazing in this dress.

When this game ends, it’s 2 AM. A handful of players get up to pay or collect from Molly, others stay at the table for another game. Cole makes his way over to you, shuffling poker chips between his hands. You’re exhausted, leaning your body weight on the counter with your elbows as your waist sticks out between the bar stools. He plops down on the one to your left.

“Long night?” He asks, but you know he doesn’t really care.

You softly groan, rubbing your temple. “Try a long life.”

“Oh, poor baby has to serve drinks to rich men for a living. Sounds grueling.” God, you really want to hate him. But when you turn your head to look at him, his eyes are sweet and caressing. You melt instantly.

“I’d like to see you walk a mile in my six-inch heels.” Is what you manage to come up with.

“But you look so much better in them, doll.” His gaze works his way up your body, stabling them at your cleavage peeking through the low neckline. Pascal sighs from behind the bar, “Another drink, Cole?”

Cole doesn’t answer him, doesn’t even look in his direction. His eyes remain on you. “I’m staying right upstairs tonight. I bet you’ve never laid on a Plaza bed before, comfort like you won’t believe.”

It’s forward, but expected. And he’s right, you’ve never stayed in a hotel fancier than a Hilton. But that’s not why you want to go to his room, and he knows it.

“Sure.” You reply, standing up properly.

You follow him out of the room, giving Molly a glance on your way out to silently let her know to sub in one of the servers sitting on the couch beside her.

The elevator ride is tedious and silent. You’re only going up one floor, so you just stand in the middle while he tipsily leans against the wall to admire you. You swallow, meeting his eyes but not saying a word.

When you enter his suite, you notice that it's basically identical to the one below, sans the poker table and Molly in the corner watching your every move. He lets you in first, but then walks right past you toward the mini-bar behind the loveseat. You watch him pour two drinks and bring one to you, a musky brown liquid not even reaching an inch up the glass.

You two stand close in front of each other. He clinks his glass to your’s and downs the entire shot in one go. You just take a small sip, watching his throat swallow the harsh liquid. “You bring a lot of girls up to your hotel room?” You wonder aloud, taking another sip.

He shrugs, “Only when they're as gorgeous as you.”

You nod slowly, “Hm…”

“I felt your eyes on me all night. God, I was half-hard under the table thinking about getting you out of that dress.” He huffs, setting his glass down on the coffee table.

You finish your drink, setting your cup down beside his. Now there’s nothing between you two but a longing heat. “So are you just going to keep talking about it or are you gonna do it?”

He stifles a dry laugh, leaning in close until your lips are a mere inch apart. He sucks in a breath, eyes flickering down to your lips. “I couldn’t begin to tell you all the things I want to do to you tonight.” And with that, he grabs your waist and plants his lips on yours.

Your hands go straight to his neck. The kiss liquefies you into his arms, his hands gripping you in a way that presses your body flat into his. Your lips move together in hunger, depravity almost. His tongue sinks into yours and you can taste the cigarette smoke and scotch, and you feel yourself wanting to devour him more and more.

You feel his hands find the zipper of your dress and he opens it down the small of your back. The cool air on your body sends a small chill down your spine. He takes his time peeling the fabric off of your shoulders and down your arms, lips trailing over to your cheeks and down your neck.

When the dress drops to the floor, you're left in just a small pair of lacy panties. He kisses your clavicle, down your breastbone, gripping one of your tits while he begins to suckle at the other. You huff a breath of air, his tongue circling your left nipple. Your brain goes blank from the pleasure, eyes fluttering shut.

“God, you’re already wrecked for me, baby.” He mumbles against your skin, the hot air of his breath creating a whole other sensation.

You manage to tug at the backside of his shirt, untucking it from his pants. “No fair…” You sigh.

“Okay, okay,” Cole obliges, lifting his shirt above his head and tossing it onto the loveseat. “C’mon, honey.”

You return the heat of his mouth, his lips like a drug, as he works you backward toward the bed. You feel the comforter hit the backside of your legs as you find his belt buckle and undo it. He helps you tear his belt off. You unbuckle his pants, his tongue pressing against yours’.

Your hand dives into his pants and you finally feel the heaviness of him, thick and hard underneath a pair of silk briefs. He lets out a guttural groan into your mouth as you grip him, tugging half-heartedly on his cock. “That feel good?” You say against his lips.

“Mmph, mm-hm.” He moans. “I need you right fucking now.”

You kiss him again, suckling on his breath. “How do you want me?” You’d do anything for him to be inside you at this point, your core buzzing and soaked.

He leans over and licks your bare shoulder. “Turn around.” He says under his breath.

You slowly turn until you feel your ass pressed firmly against his groin, feeling the hardness on him between your thonged ass. He places wet kisses all down your back, wrapping his hands around you to grip your tits with ferocity.

“Get on all fours.” He orders softly, hands moving to your waste and guiding you onto the bed.

You crawl with your ass pointed at him until you're resting your hands on a handful of pillows at the top of the bed. You glance over your shoulder and see him kick off his pants and underwear onto the floor. He kneels onto the bed and places kisses on the fat of your ass cheek, biting down on the skin just enough to get a soft moan out of you.

Then you feel his fingers on your core. Through the lace, he rubs the fabric between the lips of your pussy onto the tip of your clit. “Fuck, your leaking through your goddamn panties.” He hisses. You rest your head in your arms, sticking your ass even further in the air and giving him better access. “You wanted this so bad, hm?”

“I needed this so bad, Cole.” You mimic back to him in a moan.

“And you’ll let me do anything to you, won’t you?” He presses a little harder on your clit. “You’ll let daddy do anything he wants to your pretty little pussy?”

You feel yourself get wetter at his words, the small movements of his fingers getting easier and slicker by the second. “Daddy can do whatever he wants, just give me your fucking cock, please.” He chuckles as you beg, high on his own power over you. “Are you sure you can handle it, sweetheart? I’m a bit of a stretch.” You feel him move your panties so your core is exposed to him.

“Please fill me up, Cole. I wanna feel you so bad.” You’re dying for him to give you anything, all of him.

He takes his bare cock and uses it to moisten himself with the wetness of your folds. As he circles your pussy with it, he sighs. “You’re gonna take all of me. Not some, all, okay?” You nod against the pillows, feeling ready and not at all prepared at the same time. He still doesn’t enter you. “I have to hear the words, sweetheart.” “All of you, Daddy. Give it all to me.”

And with that, he shoves his entire cock into you in one puncture, practically splitting you in half. You squeal, gripping the comforter below you tightly to steady yourself. He’s bottoming you out, and without pulling out, wiggling his hips against your ass. The pain mixes with pleasure in the most delicious way, and your eyes are already watering.

“Mm-hm, that's it, baby.” He pulls out slowly, only to buck into you again. You feel his fingers dig into his waist to give him better control. “You’re daddy’s little fucktoy.”

“K-keep… Keep going.” You whine, breathless.

He’s all smug about it, brows furrowing as he grins. He begins to pump into you at a dizzying pace, his cock tilting into your cervix at the exact right spot. You can already feel your first orgasm approaching. Moans spill from your mouth as you grip onto pillows, the headboard, the sheets, anything you can get your hands on.

“You’re so fucking tight, oh my god.” He groans. “And just soaking for me, honey, like you were meant for this cock.”

“Mm, daddy…” Your pleasure grows and grows, your pussy throbbing around him. “M’ gonna…”

“Fuck, are you coming already?” His pace remains the same, letting out these grunting moans. A coil in you snaps, and your orgasm hits you suddenly and violently. You're writing your face against the comforter as you're practically mewling against it.

He slows down as you come down from you high, but only for a moment. Within the lull, he sends a swift and hard smack to your ass. “Shit.” You moan.

“Only my cock can make you feel this way, hm? Only daddy’s cock.” He smacks your ass again, right where it's most tender and turning red already.

You’re so oversensitive from his cock and the spanks that you're drooling. Your moans are high-pitched and desperate for more. “Are you gonna cum inside me, daddy?” He groans at the invitation, bucking his hips sloppily and fast. Your ass is bouncing off of him, “Can I get another one out of you?” He breathes, reaching around your waste to play with your clit. The sensation sends you over the edge, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Mmmm, mmph,” You moan against the pillow. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” He doesn’t, only fucking you harder. He feels you pulsate around him again, thighs shaking. “That’s it. Cum for me..”

Your sweat beads down your face as you feel your second orgasm come over you. This one is overpowering and all-consuming, your hips writhing. “Oh… Fucking hell, I’m cumming.” You whine.

“Cum with me, baby. Let me feel you cum.” He refuses to stop his hips, fucking his own orgasm into you. You feel a deep warmth fill your pussy as his groans turn perversely pitchy. You tighten around him, pulling another moan out of him as his shoulders tense. He grips your ass with this whole hand, holding onto the cheek for dear life as he spills.

“Fuck me…” He lets out, slowing down and leaving his cock still and pulsating.

You both let out a synchronized sigh, and he pulls out of you tentatively. His cum leaks out of your hole and onto the blanket. You only have the energy to collapse forward, lying on your stomach as he lays beside you.

He smiles at your exhausted state, softly caressing the hair out of your face. You blink up at him, blissed out. “You can sleep here tonight, honey.” He grins, almost compassionately. “But I don’t think I can let you leave. I’m not done with you yet.”

[thee-horny-thicky]

Which of yours fics are your fav? Because I can say with absolute certainty that FES is mine. Savior was okay. And confessions has a lot of potential. I need to read the one with Geto / reader visit Japan and link up with Gojo.

This is so hard to answer, because each fic I write holds a piece of my heart. However, after careful deliberation, I sorted through my 43 fics and selected those I'm fondest of, in no particular order. For anyone interested, I included the links, and their bio :)

The Exchange Student Series (Suguru/Reader. Incomplete)

Take the role of a foreign exchange student who had the misfortune of catching Geto Suguru's attention.

Honey, I'm Home! (Satoru/Reader. Will be expanded)

After being trapped in the prison realm for so long, Gojo is in dire need of release. What better way to do that than paying a visit to his favorite girl?

The Sacrifice (Sukuna/Reader. Will be Expanded)

After stealing, the village priests select you to be sacrificed to an elusive forest beast to avoid his wrath.

Surprise! (SatoSugu/Reader. Complete, but I may do another chapter)

Your boyfriend of a year decided a trip to Tokyo would be the perfect anniversary present. He missed his hometown, and you always wanted to visit. However, he failed to mention that the two of you would be staying with his stunning best friend. He also failed to mention that the two of them liked to share.

Hide & Go Get It (SatoSugu/Reader. Complete)

Satoru and Suguru show you how to play hide and go get it, taking your virginity in the process

Orange Juice and Milk (Francis Mosses/Reader. Incomplete)

You're a lonely housewife, neglected by your workaholic husband, and you're 90% sure he's cheating. As your frustration builds and you grow disillusioned with your marriage, you come up with a way for some relief; Francis Mosses, the neighborhood milkman.

Oh no, he's hot! (Nanami/Reader. Complete)

After Haruta Shigemo was killed, you should've been terrified of the blond giant who set his sights on you. But instead, all you could focus on was how hot he was.

Pretty Young Thing (Gojo/Nanami/Ijichi/Reader. Complete)

Gojo forces Nanami to go to a hostess club with him and quickly becomes captivated by a particularly pretty young thing. Unfortunately, Gojo also has his sights on her. Who will she choose? You decide!

Castaway (Gyutaro/Reader. Complete)

When you become stranded in the middle of the ocean, a merman by the name of Gyutaro takes a liking to you.

Shower Time Comfort (Shoko/Reader. Complete)

After Gojo is cut down, you and Shoko seek comfort within each other.

Mr. Steal Yo' Girl (Dark!Gojo/Reader. Complete)

After beating Sukuna into submission, Gojo decided to rub salt into the wound by claiming the ‘King of Curses’ woman.

Tattoos and Tenderness (Sukuna/Reader. Complete)

While taking you to Pound Town, Sukuna evaluates his feelings for you.

Bunnies and Vices (Bunny!Izuku/Reader. Incomplete)

When you stumble across an injured green rabbit, you just thought you had a little too much to drink and took it home with you. But when the rabbit remains green, you realize you might’ve bit off more than you could chew. And when the rabbit turned into a man, you knew that you were way in over your head.

But, hey, at least he’s cute.

A Little Demonstration (Lucifer Morningstar/Reader. Will be Expanded)

When you ask Lucifer how he exactly took both of Adam's wives, he decides to give you a little demonstration

Blood and Breeding (Doppelganger!Francis Mosses/Reader. Complete, but it may be expanded)

When a Francis appears covered in 'scarlet milk,' you're unsure if you should be scared or horny. He makes that choice for you.

Update Edging (Nanami/Reader. Complete)

While his computer updates, Nanami calls you into his office for a little fun.

[thebearer]

can we get a blurb of carmy post vasectomy??? like her picking him up and giving him ice and everything.

"There he is." You grin, opening the car door when Carmen walked out. His face says it all, a grimace of discomfort that has you cooing at him sweetly.

"Hi, baby." You mutter, reaching up to kiss his cheek gently, taking the jacket from off his arm carefully.

"Hi, honey." Carmen mutters, the ice pack firm on his groin. Normally, he'd be mortified, holding ice to his crotch in public, but he was too uncomfortable to care. The numbing shot had helped at the beginning but now, it was starting to wear, and the stretched ache of skin in his groin area was coming back.

Carmen stood, grunting in a low huff as he shuffled towards the passenger side. You shut the door after him, sliding into the driver's side, eyes lighting up when he saw the little care package you'd put together on the floor board.

"How're you feeling?" You asked, pulling off the curb of the clinic.

"Not too bad. Just feels... weird." Carmen shrugged, grunting and looking down at the basket. "What's this?" You could practically hear the grin on his face, eyes cutting towards him.

"Just a little something for you, baby." You purr with a grin, flicking on your turn signal at the light. "A little care package for you. To help you feel better."

"Sorry About Your Ding-Dongs." Carmen read the post-it slapped over the Hostess box with an amused snort. "Funny."

"I thought so." You hummed, leaning over the arm rest to look at him. "Richie did too."

"Yeah? He pick the No More Kids?" Carmen asked, raising the box of Sour Patch Kids with a post-it covering it. "Or the Fire Balls?" He lifted the two shots up to you with a grin.

"He actually did the bag of peanuts at the bottom." You nod towards the basket. "The one that says In Case You Need To Bust A Nut. Fak did the Fire Balls."

Carmen laughed, shifting carefully to set the basket back down. "Hey, look at me." He muttered, leaning over the console when you rolled to a stop at a red light.

Your cheeks heated meeting his dazzling blue eyes, lips curling in a soft smile. "Love you, baby. Thank you." Carmen muttered, leaning in towards you.

"Thank me?" You grinned, tilting your head to the side. "Think I'm supposed to be thanking you, Bear. You're the one who took the snip."

"Nah, no way, c'mon." Carmen shook his head. "You gave me two babies, don't even. Least I could do after that, and you know it." You blushed, head lulling back into the seat when you looked at him- all starry eyed and in love.

"Well, thank you anyways. Can finally throw my birth control out." You grin, grabbing his hand on the console while you drove.

"Yeah? Have to wait a week, baby." Carmen muttered, voice falling slightly. "Doctor said I could like tear my scrotum or some shit."

"Yikes." You suck in a breath, looking over at him. "Well, I'll make sure to cover up then."

"Won't matter." Carmen shrugged, thumb running over your hand. "Get me hard all the time. Just thinkin' about you." Grinning at the laugh you gave him.