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freelancearsonist · 6 months

Text

in shades of gray and candlelight

➔ Marcus Pike x fem!Reader - 7.2k

➔ Nothing good starts in a getaway car, but you sure do have fun delaying the inevitable.

➔ Rated MA for artist!reader my beloved (reader is able-bodied, basic female anatomy and feminine pronouns used, reader is described as having hair that is long enough to be put up but otherwise she’s a blank slate), unprotected p in v sex, cum swallowing, creampie, semi-public sex acts, oral (r + m receiving), handjobs, fingering, very light switchy dom/sub dynamics, a couple spanks, pet names (sweetheart, pretty girl, baby, honey), heavy praise kink, light size kink, consent king!marcus, just like the song it does not end happily [please let me know if i missed any at all :)]

➔ this is my (first 😈) submission to @beskarandblasters Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge! i really did mean for this to be a drabble especially since i didn't know anything about marcus before receiving this prompt but he has my whole fucking heart and mind now 😩 thank you so much for the challenge lovely kel, and special thank u to my baby @fhatbhabie for betaing and screaming with me ily <3 (dividers by the amazing and talented @saradika-graphics)

You meet Marcus Pike on a Friday night and it’s obvious from the start that he’s going to change your life forever.

He looks a little disheveled when he enters the gallery–brown hair ruffled and standing up in places, tie loose, top shirt button undone. There’s an alluring five o’clock shadow burgeoning across his jaw and cheeks. He looks like he’s had a long day, and it’s only going to get longer. It’s all part of the plan, of course. He’s supposed to look like a standard blue collar worker, and he pulls it off with ease.

It’s the exhibition’s opening night, so it’s a little more packed than the gallery normally would be. It works in his favor–he’s able to collect a plastic cup of champagne from the refreshment table and blend seamlessly into the crowd.

His eyes are diligent as they scan the faces that come and go. He tries to commit them all to memory–the tall woman with the slight limp, the short guy wearing the Hawaiian patterned shirt. There’s dozens of people that pass by, and so many of them are forgettable. It’s exhibitions like these that make him dread undercover work.

The art on the walls isn’t exceptional, but it’s not bad. Nothing that seems worth stealing, that’s for sure. But his source is good, and his source said that this place was getting hit tonight. So he keeps his watchful eyes vigilant and pretends to sip the champagne in his hand.

Until he finds your exhibit.

There’s a depth to your art that he’s come to be familiar with–something he sees often in work of high value. Anyone can make abstract art, it’s as simple as flicking paint at a canvas. But few can charge it as emotionally as you have. To convey feeling and passion and heart through abstraction is a separate art form all its own, and it’s one you’ve mastered.

He’s seen original Rothko’s, Van Gogh’s, Kandinsky’s; he’s held their frames in his own two hands. But nothing’s ever made his breath hitch in his throat quite the way yours does.

He stands in front of a canvas simply labeled “Waves In Motion” with your name printed neatly underneath, brow creased with a concentration that seems a little unnecessary given the subject matter of the painting. It’s all shades of blue and violet, swirling together in a way that seems partly sensuous, partly violent. It makes the hair on the back of his neck prickle, and he takes a step closer. That’s when he notices it: a single dot of red paint right in the middle, a focal point of all the swirling cobalts. So small that he wouldn’t notice it if he wasn’t close; so small it could almost be interpreted as a mistake.

But he knows without having to ask that it’s not an answer. He wonders who that dot represents: you, the artist? Most likely.

Without meaning to, he smiles. It’s been a long time, years really, since a piece of art provoked such thought.

“Hi.”

The voice Marcus hears next to him is soft, dulcet. He doesn’t turn to the noise quickly–from the tone in that word alone he senses a hesitance, as if you’re a fawn that’s lost its mother and you’re bound to run if he makes any sudden movements.

And, truth be told, part of him thinks he might not be able to look away even if he tried right now. There’s something so beautiful about this painting–and underneath, something so ominous. There’s an air about the work that says he might unlock the secrets of the universe if he just keeps looking.

“Hi there.” He keeps his eyes trained on “Waves In Motion” as he responds–playing the game. He’s here to brush shoulders, after all; to be the right amount of forgettable yet memorable.

“This is my best, I think,” you murmur while taking a step closer. “It took the least time of all of them, surprisingly. But… I think when you know exactly what you’re trying to convey, it just comes to you easily.”

“These are yours?” There’s admiration in his eyes and an air of something akin to disbelief in his voice as he takes in the group of canvases proudly displayed on the plain white gallery walls.

And then he turns and lets himself take you in. More specifically the curling strand of hair that falls out of your updo to frame your face, the deeply plunging neckline of your dress, the way your calf muscles work even standing still in your high-heeled shoes. You’re a work of art in your own right; the most beautiful piece he’s seen in a long time.

“Yeah.” You duck your head–shyly, modestly–and he’s hooked. There’s one thing in this building that deserves awe and reverence more than your painting, and it’s you. “You know, you’re only the second person who’s come over tonight.”

“No way. They’re all just working their way back here,” he whispers before he can calculate a more articulate response.

But it works in his favor–your giggle is gorgeous, if a sound can be described that way. Sweet and syrupy, it seeps over him as if he’s standing under a cracked honeycomb. He hasn’t actually taken a drink of his champagne, and yet he can feel his nervous system tingling. You’re just that intoxicating.

“The gallery closes in half an hour,” you tell him–a little wistfully at that. “In my defense, I don’t have any family or friends in the area. I wasn’t really expecting anyone to show, not with so many other talented artists here.”

It seems so indignantly unfair to Marcus. That you’re shoved into the far back corner of the gallery, that people haven’t come in droves from all over the country to see your work.

“Where are you from?” He asks as his mind finally starts to clear from the haze it’s been in the past few minutes. With only half an hour left on the job, he allows himself a small sip of the drink that he’s been cradling all night.

“New York. This is actually only my second exhibition,” you explain, and you almost sound shy about it; as if you need to be embarrassed about being young and fresh-faced in the art industry, as if you aren’t the most talented artist Marcus has ever met in person.

He hums in response, eyes unconsciously dragging over you once more. “You came a long way for this.”

You smile so prettily up at him, and in that moment he sees something in your eyes. He can’t describe it–maybe it’s something akin to longing. Something incomplete, unexplored. It’s familiar; it’s the red dot from your painting. Solitary amidst the swirling, lost yet not hopeless.

And just like your painting, he finds himself wanting to get lost in your eyes.

“Well, it’s not every day a gallery wants to host you,” you say after another sip of your drink. “Plus, I’ve never been to Texas before, and I needed a change of scenery.”

There’s something so charming, so boyishly intoxicating about the smile he graces you with. “How are you liking it so far?”

“It’s hotter than I’m used to,” you say with a chuckle that he echoes. “And I haven’t been able to do any exploring yet, my flight only got in a couple hours before I had to be here.”

“That’s a shame,” he hums in a tone that reveals deeper meaning. “How long are you here for? Do you have any plans?”

“A week,” you murmur. Subconsciously he leans in closer, on the edge of his proverbial seat. To seal the deal, you lean in too. “And not a damned one.”

There’s no air between you and Marcus. You exist in a vacuum for this moment–unable to breathe, choking on anticipation. He’s so close, yet way too far away. You want to be consumed by him–for him to be swirling blue; and you, a single speck of red in his midst.

The moment shatters with an audible sound–a deep, penetrating voice. “He’s still not here, huh? I don’t think your boyfriend’s coming. If he even exists.” There’s something strange in the raspy voice that drawls these words–something strange enough to immediately put Marcus on the alert.

You flinch at the sudden intrusion into your vacuum, but you recover quickly. You have to, because this intrusive stranger is standing way too close and has way too much alcohol on his breath.

And then something strange happens–you worm your arm around Marcus’s waist and press yourself firmly into his side.

“Actually, he’s right here,” you say. There’s a quality to your voice that wasn’t there before when you were just talking to Marcus–it’s firm, clipped, bordering on hostile. “He just got held up at work. Isn’t that right, babe?”

Thankfully, Marcus has always been one to think quickly on his feet. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer, unconsciously moving an inch or two in front of you. Protecting without really meaning to. “I’m sorry, honey. I got here as soon as I could.”

The man–burly and balding, probably a good twenty years older than you–scoffs. “Unbelievable.”

“Is there a problem here?” Marcus draws up to his full height–towering a good few inches over this strange intruder.

Whoever this guy is, he’s not completely stupid. He senses this isn’t going to be a fight he’ll win, so he backs off. “Not at all, man. Just didn’t want little miss standing here all alone the whole night.”

“Thanks,” you say with bitter reprehension. You wind even closer to Marcus–closer than this sudden farce demands. “But we’re fine now.”

He nods once–curt and unhappy, but seemingly satisfied that he’s not going to get what he wants. “Have a good night, ma’am. Sir.”

Marcus takes a mental inventory of the man as he storms off, committing his physical description and his outfit to memory. He doesn’t look like a casual art viewer, and he doesn’t look like a collector. He’s exactly the type that Marcus came here to look out for.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper as you step out of Marcus’s personal space. “He’s been hovering all night, asking me who I’m going home with and shit.”

“That’s the other guy who came over to talk to you?” It brings a deep frown to his face, a crease forming between his brows. It certainly raises a red flag–if the guy has any eye for value, of course he would be drawn to your exhibit. And if he has an eye for value, he could be the guy Marcus came for.

“Yeah.” You rub the back of your neck awkwardly and avert your gaze, as if you should be embarrassed for drawing that guy’s attention. “It’s not been the greatest night.”

Marcus hates that. He hates that you came all this way to be let down, that this is only your second exhibition and you’ve had such a bad experience with it. More than anything, he hates that he can still see the spark in your eyes when you look up at him, and he can tell that it’s dimmed.

“Gimme just a minute.”

He doesn’t mean to be so abrupt, but he wants to make it quick. He hustles to the single-stall men’s room and tugs the radio out of his inside jacket pocket to call in the man’s description. Then he turns it off, tucks it back into its concealed pocket, and goes over to the sink.

He thought he looked perfect for the part he had to play when he left his house to come here. Now, he’s too disheveled. He wets his fingertips and tries to tame the mess on top of his head; he re-buttons his shirt and tightens his tie. He looks flustered, and he’s not even surprised by it. You’ve got his heart pounding with anticipation in a way he doesn’t think it ever has before.

Butterflies fluttering on in his stomach, he emerges from the restroom to resume his position by your side.

Except you’re not by your exhibit anymore, and the crowd has thinned considerably. He checks his watch and realizes there’s only five minutes before the gallery closes for the night. Maybe you’ve decided to cut your losses and leave early.

He hates the way his gut twists with disappointment, but then he reminds himself that he didn’t come here for you. He’s working, and he needs to stay vigilant. No distractions, no complications.

“You’re still here.”

There’s a wave of relief that washes over him as he hears your voice, and this time he’s not too timid to turn towards you. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Thought I might’ve scared you off.” There’s a fresh cup of champagne in your hand and a hint of vulnerability in your voice, and it makes his heart pick up pace just the slightest bit. You duck your head–that shy, modest gesture again. “I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just done that without permission.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he tells you, more earnestly than he’s ever said anything in his life. “I didn’t mind at all, I swear. Just had to hit the head.”

You look so deeply into his eyes he almost wonders if you aren’t looking through him. But whatever you find, you must like it.

He clears his throat and tries to not show how thoroughly unraveled he is by your gaze. “I’m Marcus, by the way.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Marcus.” You pause for a moment, and he can tell that there’s something else lingering on the tip of your tongue–so he remains silent in hopes of drawing it out.

“Do you have someone to go home to?”

There it is–the invitation he was both dreading and hoping for. He should really lie. He’s here on a job, after all–he’s supposed to avoid complications, and some instinct tells him you’re going to be much more than a simple distraction. But he’s told you the truth so far, and he doesn’t want to stop now.

“No. No, I don’t.”

This is everything that Marcus has never even considered doing. It’s late, it’s dark, it’s a little chilly for spring in Austin. The alley is grimey and drafty–your hair blows in the breeze even as you kneel down before him.

All he can do is stand there, dumbstruck with his back up against the rough brick wall, and stare down at you.

He’s still breathless from the way you’ve been kissing him–all heat and passion, fire and brimstone. Your hands ran through his hair and undid the effort he put in while in the bathroom, and his hands clutched your waist in a futile attempt to ground himself. Your lips are so soft; he thinks he could kiss you forever and never get tired of it. He was certainly planning on finding out, until you dropped to your knees in front of him.

“You… you don’t have to–”

But the way you look up at him through your lashes makes his throat close up around whatever protest he was going to try.

“I want to,” you assure him–more of a purr than a spoken statement.

And this really isn’t the place. He shouldn’t let you do this here. But he’d be lying if he said the thought didn’t make him harden in his boring gray work slacks.

Marcus has never been about excitement. He’s always strayed to the comfortable and familiar–he falls into the sweet, caring companion role with grace and ease.

And tonight doesn’t have to be that different. If you’re going to suck his dick in a dark, dingey alley, he’ll let you. But he’s going to lay his jacket down on the ground so you don’t scrape up your knees first.

You keen at the thoughtful gesture and grace him with a grateful smile as your adept fingers work his belt open. He’s straining against the seam of his pants now, begging for the attention that your gaze promises him.

If he didn’t know better, he’d think you’re every bit as eager to get his trousers and boxers down as he is.

And Lord help him, he delights in the gasp you emit when his cock springs free from its confines.

“Fuck, Marcus.” Your lips actually part as you freeze for a moment, just taking him in. He’s thick, maybe an inch longer than average, swollen head peeking through uncut skin as if begging for your waiting mouth. He curves to the left just a little bit, and you can almost see his pulse thrumming through the prominent vein that runs along the length of him.

“S’not that impressive,” he mumbles, and you know that he knows that he’s full of shit.

Your fingers almost don’t wrap all the way around him, and suddenly you’re second-guessing this back alley stint, too. You want him in bed. You want him deep inside you, kissing your face as he fucks you, hands all over your body, thrusts hard yet slow. You want it languid, you want it desperate, you want it any way he’ll give it to you. You don’t want to blow him and say goodbye.

He calculates your hesitation as something other than pure unadulterated lust, and he lifts your chin gently with his index and middle fingers.

“Hey, we don’t have to–”

Again, you cut him off–this time, by dragging your tongue from the seam of his balls all the way along his length to swirl messily around his tip. You taste every heady inch of him and then moan at the salty foreshadowing on your tongue when you catch a droplet of precum leaking from his slit.

Your hand springs into action with a long, slow stroke along his cock, and then you sink your mouth around him and he moans. Without caution or pretense, like you’re not in an alley that anyone could walk down at any moment. It’s a little more high-pitched than he’d like for it to be and his head thumps back against the brick wall hard enough to hurt, and even still he’s never felt so overwhelmed with pleasure before in his life.

Your nose meets the neat patch of hair at his base and your free hand comes up to his hip, effectively pinning him against the wall when he tries to buck greedily even further into your mouth.

No one’s ever taken him so relentlessly before. You’re insistent, pressing onward even as you gag on his length, and it makes his balls tighten in a way he’s never felt before. It’s like you’re hungry for him; like you’re doing this more for your own pleasure than for his.

Marcus Pike has been a giver his whole life. Tonight, with you, he finally decides to take.

He’d be embarrassed about how fast he comes if you weren’t so eager for it. You moan around him and push yourself as deep as you can, throat working around him desperately not to choke on the size of him. Before he can warn you he’s spilling into your mouth, maybe more than he’s ever come before, thick and salty but undeniably sweet too. You allow yourself a moment to savor him as he pulses in your mouth, tongue swirling around the sensitive head of him in a way that makes him shiver and whine.

He’s panting, nearly light-headed, when you finally pull off of him and press one last gentle kiss over his slit.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs, because there’s nothing else to say.

You giggle, and he realizes with a strange wistfulness that he would do anything to keep this girl–a girl he’s just met, a girl who’s leaving to go back to her home on the other side of the country in just a week–smiling and laughing the way she is now.

“My hotel is only a couple blocks away,” you tell him as he helps you to your feet. “Would you like a nightcap?”

You pick up his jacket and dust the grime off it–it makes him chuckle. Everything about this encounter has flown in the face of what he’s used to.

He’s never felt so alive.

“I would love a nightcap.”

Your senses wake up slower than normal.

First it’s your eyes–they tune in on the bright mid-sunrise light streaming through the open balcony blinds on the far wall. It falls in slivers and shards over the rumpled white hotel-standard bedding–the second thing your senses tune into. Everything is so soft and light, but it’s a little cold too. Especially the other side of the bed; there’s no heat remaining there at all.

You push yourself up with a grunt and let the sheets fall away from your bare torso, tired eyes scanning around the room. You notice clothes scattered all over the floor while your ears wake up enough to hear water running in the bathroom, and you can’t help the involuntary smile that spreads over your face. He’s still here.

Marcus lets the too-hot water wash over him in scalding waves, muscles still a little sore after a long night tangled together with you.

He checked his phone first thing this morning, and the gallery was quiet all night. They think the suspect he radioed in was the guy they were looking for, but they weren’t able to apprehend him. The running theory is that he might’ve recognized Marcus and decided low-value art wasn’t worth the hassle, but one guess is as good as the next until they can bait and catch the guy.

It’s the weekend now, and Marcus is thanking his lucky stars. Not only does he have a successful mission to celebrate, but he has the most beautiful woman in the world to celebrate it with.

He emerges after a few minutes, wet hair messily scattered over his forehead and wide hips straining against a low-slung hotel towel. He’s a languid Saturday morning wet dream on two legs.

“G’morning,” he hums with a smile–he doesn’t even try to hide the way his eyes dip down to hungrily take in your naked torso.

“Good morning, Marcus.”

He stalks towards you slowly, eyes darkening with each advancing step. It doesn’t take more than a second to realize he didn’t get his fill of your body last night, but you’re certainly not complaining.

He’s already starting to harden as he drops his towel and crawls over the foot of the bed, surging forward to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. If last night was desperation and passion, this morning is syrupy and sweet. He explores your mouth slowly, tongue sweeping between your lips and tracing every curve and ridge he can–almost like he’s trying to commit you to memory.

There are universes in the depths of his dark eyes. He may not say exactly what he’s thinking, but you can see it playing out in those baby browns of his. There’s something simmering underneath the surface–something more than just lust or desire.

Something dangerous.

You tug him closer and cup his face in your hands, enjoying the gentle scratch of morning stubble underneath your palms. He surges forward and presses you into the pillows as he settles himself comfortably between your spread legs.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs through kisses scattered along the length of your jaw.

You know you probably look like you got run over by a bus–you toss and turn in your sleep, and it always leaves your hair a matted mess. And that’s not even mentioning the slight tremble in your thighs, left over from Marcus’s enthusiastic attention last night. But there’s so much sincerity in his voice; you don’t think he would waste his breath saying it if he didn’t mean it, and that fact alone makes your heart pound with desire.

There’s a syrupy slowness to the way he moves down your body, lips leaving behind heavy wet kisses as he works down your chest and over your stomach.

And it’s almost like he senses the protest working its way up your throat when you feel his hot breath on your thighs, because he looks up at you and there’s sternness in his gaze. You got your fill last night, and now it’s his turn.

“May I?” He looks up at you from the apex of your thighs with big, round puppy eyes that are impossible to refuse–so you nod eagerly and don’t even try.

If you were eager to have him in your mouth last night, he’s desperate.

There’s no hesitation, no build-up. It’s almost aggressive, the way he buries his face in your heat. He laps like a dog at a bowl, hips canting into the mattress involuntarily as your taste floods his mouth.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he growls into your sopping cunt. “You taste incredible.”

You keen at the praise and card your fingers through his hair, tugging slightly at the damp, spiky strands when his tongue laves heavily over your sensitive clit.

Marcus’s greedy hands grip underneath your thighs and push them as far as you can comfortably spread them. You’re still so sensitive after at least three orgasms last night–you lost count after a point–and it serves to wind your nerves tighter than they’ve ever been wound before.

One hand slides to the junction of your thigh and his thumb comes to take over the pressure on your clit as his tongue plunges between your soaked folds. It’s even more overwhelming like this, and there’s not a thing in the world that you want to do more than let him have his fun. Especially when that hand and his tongue switch spots–his lips seal and suck around your clit while he presses two achingly thick fingers into your waiting entrance.

It actually makes your muscles tighten and your back rise off the bed as he curls his fingers just right to find that spot that makes you fall apart for him.

He can tell you’re getting close–he’s already so intune with the way your muscles twitch, the change of pitch in your moans. You whine and cry for him the tighter he winds the rubberband, and he’s eager to make it snap.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he says over the overwhelming flutter of his fingers scissoring and curling inside you. “Let me have it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut so tightly as pleasure wracks through your body that you can see constellations. Large hands come to pin your thighs open as his tongue keeps working, lapping and gliding against your cunt with ease as a wave of arousal gushes from your entrance.

You’ve never been so wet in your life, and he’s just getting started.

He trails open-mouthed kisses up your body as you catch your breath–his slick-soaked lips coat your skin with your own arousal as he works his way up to allow you a taste of yourself.

The first wet lick of his tongue into your mouth makes you moan. It’s not the first time you’ve tasted your own slick–you’ve had a moment or two of curiosity–but it’s never been quite as enjoyable as it is on his tongue. It pairs so perfectly with the minty tang of toothpaste left on his breath and makes you hungry for more.

He moves fluidly under your direction as you push him onto his back and roll to straddle his lap all in one graceful movement. It’s perfect like this–he doesn’t have to support his weight so he can run his big meaty hands all over every inch of you, and you can kiss him as deep as you want while you grind down on his aching length.

“Shit, baby,” he pants against your lips. Those aforementioned beefy palms grasp hard at your asscheeks to guide your hips, pulling you into a slow, long grind that bumps the head of his cock against your clit deliciously.

Your pulse thrums with desperation until you’re seeing white–no more teasing, no more preamble. You take his girth in your hand and give him a firm stroke; if you had a little more presence of mind, you might be embarrassed at how wet his dick is simply from grinding against you for a few seconds.

“Go ahead, baby, take it when you’re ready.”

He gasps at the first press of his cockhead against your entrance, head flopping back against the pillows as his hands squeeze your asscheeks with bruising force.

“Shit, you’re tight,” he murmurs, throat working around a thick gulp. “You can take it baby, I know you can. Did so good for me last night.”

You think you would honestly do anything he asks of you so long as he just keeps talking like this.

It takes a moment for you to work your way down his length–he’s so mouth-wateringly thick and the curve of his cock hits the most delicious spot inside you that you didn’t even know existed.

“Atta girl,” he praises breathlessly as your hips settle flush against his. “Just sit there for a minute. So pretty on my dick.”

God, he makes your entire body flush with heat. He turns your blood to molten lava with his words, lighting every inch of skin on fire. You’ve never felt a sensation like this–so overwhelming yet so intoxicating.

You start with slow movements as his hands trace up and down your sides sweetly–it’s more like you’re grinding on him than anything else. His thumbs rub abstract little patterns into your skin as his hands work up to your tits; when he finally takes them in the palms of his hands and squeezes all pretense of soft, sweet morning-after sex flies out the window.

You drop down hard on his cock and it nearly punches the wind out of him.

“Yes!” He growls darkly. His eyes flash with something dangerous–it’s the only warning you get before his hand slaps the meat of your ass and grabs a greedy handful. “Just like that baby, use my fuckin’ dick.”

And maybe, if he was someone else, you wouldn’t be nearly as eager to follow instructions. But with Marcus, you’re nothing if not obedient.

Last night was exploration and discovery–hours into the early morning spent learning each other’s bodies, finding what makes the other squirm and whine and beg. This morning is in perfect juxtaposition to that sweet, soft, probing sex–you know what drives each other crazy now, and you each use it to your advantage. Aggressively.

He surges up to suck a pert nipple into his mouth as you set a hard pace on him, long fingers pressing into your skin hard enough to leave marks. He lands another sharp smack to your ass when your thighs start to shake–a reward for using his cock exactly how he asked.

”M-Marcus—”

”I know, sweetheart,” he purrs through a guttural moan. He cants his hips up to meet your thrusts at just the right moment—he hits something so devastatingly pleasurable that your vision prickles white around the edges. “I know, it’s so much, isn’t it? It’s okay, you can let go. Come for me.”

There’s a condescending note to his voice that only makes you squeeze harder around his cock, and within seconds you’re hurtling uncontrollably into ecstasy.

He fucks you through the telltale fluttering of your cunt even when your hips stop moving; strong hands hold you in place and work you through the ebbing waves of pleasure that wrack through your entire body.

”M’so close, honey,” he grunts with a particularly sharp thrust upward. One hand comes up to cradle your jaw in his hand, forcing your eyes to meet his. “Where do you want me?”

”I-inside,” you gasp. “Come inside me, Marcus.”

He fills you as soon as he has your instruction—hard thrusts punctuated by breathy moans as he pumps you full of his release.

There’s a long, silent moment where Marcus pulls your bare chest tightly against his own and you pant into the crook of his neck while trying desperately to even-out your breathing. His fingertips dance across your skin-feather-light, soothing.

The sun is higher in the sky now and meets your eyes with blinding rays through the balcony shutters when they finally open again.

”That was amazing, honey,” he murmurs into the crown of your head. He’s caught his own breath now, but he doesn’t make any attempt to let you go. “How’re you so perfect?”

”M’not perfect,” you mumble into his shoulder; but even to your own ears, it sounds half-hearted. The truth is, he’s so earnestly honest that you believe him.

He hums his dissent with a kiss pressed to your hairline. ”You are to me.”

And you so desperately want to believe him that you don’t even try to argue.

You bask in this warm, lovely afterglow for a few moments longer before Marcus gently taps your hip. ”Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get cleaned up and I’ll buy you breakfast.”

You pull off of his softened cock with a whine and try not to get worked up all over again at the feeling of his cum leaking down your thighs. ”Th-there’s a free continental breakfast downstairs.”

”Oh, then I’ll definitely pick up the tab,” he jokes with a smirk—all you want to do is kiss his goofy, stupidly handsome face.

He pulls you into the bathroom and starts the water running to fill the tub—he’s never really been a bath guy, but your legs are a little too shaky to endure a shower. He’s so attentive—from running a damp cloth between your legs to helping lower you into the water. He doesn’t complain in the slightest when you catch his hand and ask him to join you; he just shuffles you forward and slides in behind you like it’s a casual act that he performs with every hookup.

It’s intimate. That’s really the only way to describe it. You sit between his spread legs, back to his chest, head rested back against his shoulder while his fingers ghost idle paths over your skin. You don’t talk; you don’t really need to. Somehow, you fit together like souls who have known each other for years. Like all you’ve been missing is each other.

You drift off in his arms as he traces soap over all the curves and ridge of your body, the steady beat of his heart thumping in your ear.

It breaks his heart a little bit to wake you—the fact that you’re so comfortable with him, that you trust him with such vulnerability, makes his head spin a little bit. But the water’s turning cold, and the last thing he wants is for you to come down sick or something.

He rouses you with gentle, feathery kisses scattered over your rosy-scented shoulders and neck.

”Mmm… what time is it?” You grumble, pressing your sleep-addled face further into the crook of his neck.

”Just after noon,” he whispers into your hair after glancing up at the clock on the wall.

He can feel the way your mouth shifts into a pout. “Shit. We missed breakfast.”

The adorable downward tilt of your frown as you lift your dad to look at him makes his heart flutter. “Let’s go out, then. The first farmer’s market of the season is going on downtown. I’m sure we can find something good for brunch.”

”Kinda sounds like you’re asking me on a date,” you hum with a slight smirk dancing at your lips.

”Maybe I am.” His tone is light, his meaning clear—he knows this goes beyond a one-night stand, and there’s no harm done if you’re not wanting to cross this boundary. He’d understand not wanting to get too serious about someone who lives thousands of miles away from your home, of course. He’d never blame you.

You give him your best appraising look, staring deep into those constellation-filled brown eyes. ”You’re not sick of me yet?”

”I have a feeling I couldn’t get sick of you if I tried.” There’s nothing but sincerity in his tone, in his eyes. He genuinely wants to spend time with you, even if there’s nowhere for this to really go.

You hum thoughtfully. “I do love farmer’s markets.”

You’re with Marcus more often than not over the course of the next week.

He takes you sightseeing to some of his favorite spots around Austin, brings you to his favorite restaurants, shows you his favorite movies. But he multitasks—while teaching you about himself, he learns as much as he can about you and picks activities he knows you’ll love, too.

He’s a pragmatist; he knows your time together is short, and he wants to make himself unforgettable. If he never sees you again, he wants you to think about him every once in a while and look back on this time fondly.

You spend your days while Marcus is at work painting or drawing or lingering around the gallery, and you fall asleep in his arms every night. With shades of gray moonlight and candlelight cast over your hotel room, it almost feels like this could go on forever.

He tells you to wear something nice before he picks you up on the last night–he wants to celebrate in style, which starts with reservations at an up-scale restaurant.

He’s so achingly handsome. He’s in a matching gray suit over a white button-up, top two buttons undone and no tie to be seen. His face bears the slightest five o’clock shadow and your eyes gravitate to the curve of his lips–the instant smile that takes over his face when those gorgeous brown eyes of his land on you.

If you never see him again, this is exactly how you want to remember him.

“Wow,” he whispers reverently. “You look amazing.”

It’s not the most impressive dress you own, but he looks at you like you’re wearing something worth millions–like you’re worth millions.

You lean up and kiss him, and everything feels right. His hands rest on your waist and it’s so easy to pretend that you won’t be on the other side of the country twenty-four hours from now.

The restaurant is beautiful. Dimly lit and romantic, tables spaced enough to give you some privacy. He takes your hand on top of the table and holds it the entire meal. The conversation is light and airy–you’re both stubbornly dancing around what really needs to be said.

Dessert is cleared and the wine bottle is empty by the time Marcus finally works up the courage to acknowledge the elephant in the room.

“I don’t want you to go.”

You knew this would be coming, but it doesn’t make it any easier. You avert your gaze, instead focusing on his large hand wrapped around yours and the windshield wiper motion of his thumb tracing back and forth over your palm. No one’s touch has ever sent such electric tingles through your nervous system the way his does.

You don’t know what to say, so you say nothing at all.

“Look, I…” He takes a deep breath and straightens his spine a little bit, hand leaving yours to gently cup your chin. He forces you to look him in the eyes as he breaks your heart. “I think this could really be something, if we gave it a shot.”

You haven’t lied to him yet, and you don’t plan to start now. “I… I think it could, too. If I didn’t have to go back.”

“Don’t go back then.” There’s a firmness to his voice, but it couldn’t be any more obvious that he’s begging if he actually got down on his knees. “Stay here with me. We’ll figure this out. Just… don’t go.”

And here–with his earnest eyes on yours and his gentle, loving touch on your skin–it’s easy to pretend that it’s that simple.

He takes you back to your hotel room and sheds you easily out of your dress. As cliche as it sounds, it’s not just sex this time. Things that it’s too early to say are buried deep within every kiss, every thrust. He hooks your legs over his shoulders and looks deeply into your eyes while he fills you and you’ve never felt so overwhelmingly connected.

The thud of his heartbeat is insistent in your ear as you come down from your high–so calming, so heartbreaking. You lay on his chest while his breathing evens out and soak up these last few moments of bliss. And then, once you’re sure he’s sound asleep, you carefully worm out of his grip. There’s one more thing you have to do before you go back to New York.

Loud, insistent ringing pulls Marcus from the depths of sleep. He tries to ignore it and go back to sleep, but now that his senses are alert, the sound in combination with bright Saturday morning sunlight won’t allow him the luxury. He presses his face deeper into the pillow that he’s somehow wound himself around in his sleep, but that damned ringing won’t stop.

He sits up slowly and tries to rub the sleep from his eyes–and that’s when he notices the empty sheets next to him. Your side of the bed is long cold, and he knows. Before he even sees the note on the dresser and your room key next to it, he knows you’re gone.

He finds his trousers discarded halfway between the bed and the door and pulls his blaring phone out of the pocket.

“The gallery got hit sometime early this morning. They took everything. Every goddamn piece. You need to get here now.”

His body moves on autopilot as he pulls yesterday’s clothes back on, fingers numb to all sensation as they work to button his shirt. This can’t be happening. It can’t be you.

He notices the note on the dresser as he’s threading his belt through the loops of his trousers, and his gut twists with a sickening sense of foreboding.

I really did fall for you, Marcus. But nothing good starts in a getaway car.

He’s not sure if you knew who he was the whole time and this whole thing was calculated, or if you just got lucky. He doesn’t want to believe you’re that cunning and cruel. He wants to believe that this is just a misunderstanding, that you’re out for ice or something and you’ll walk back through the door at any moment.

But you don’t.

The note is enough of a confession for him. He’ll have the power of the FBI on his side to find you–and he will find you. What he’ll do when he does, he’s not sure. He guesses he’ll know when he sees you.

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#marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike smut #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike one shot #marcus pike x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfiction #the mentalist one shot #cece writes

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httpsdana · 2 months

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omg please write prompt 49 with florian wirtz. there is not enough fics of him🥺😩

Birthday Cake~Florian Wirtz

*GIF is not mine. credits to the owner*

finally we're back with these and it's Florian Wirtz for the first time. I hope you enjoy <3

you can request from my prompt list

this is my master list

players/drivers I write for

49-"How is my gorgeous girlfriend doing ?" "What did you do?"

It was y/n's birthday. And Florian being her very caring and loving boyfriend, he wanted to make her feel special on this special day.

She was sleeping at his house, and in the morning, Florian woke up before her. He pressed a light kiss on her forehead and silently got up from their bed.

After using the bathroom and brushing his teeth he went to the kitchen. He started off by making a pancake batter which was probably the best thing he can do. He wasn't the best chef, but he would always try for the sake of y/n, since she wasn't the best chef either.

He tried shaping the pancakes as hearts, didn't end up looking really good but the shape was there. After that he cut her some fruits, a banana and some strawberries. He added some syrup before he went to do her iced coffee.

When he finished everything, he placed the plate and coffee on a tray. He did himself some coffee and walked to his room.

y/n was still asleep, her arms wrapped around Florian's pillow. Florian smiled and the cute sight

He placed his mug and the tray on the nightstand, leaning closer to y/n. He pecked her forehead lightly, before moving to her cheeks and kissing them a few times too.

y/n started shifting in her sleep, still asleep. Florian smiled and pecked her lips too. Finally, she opened her eyes with a small smile.

She was met with her sweet boyfriend's contagious smile, his messy hair making his morning face just more perfect

"good morning honey" y/n mumbled, her eyes still half open.

"good morning my sweet girl. happy birthday beautiful" he mumbled back, brushing her hair away from her face. She smiled at him, kissing the hand that was caressing her face.

"I made you some breakfast" he said, handing her the tray. She looked at him in an 'awe', kissing his cheek.

"thank you. that's so thoughtful of you" she pouted, her eyes slightly tearing up.

"don't cry baby. enjoy your food" he said, kissing her forehead before she started munching on her pancakes.

"you know... I've always dreamt about breakfast in bed" she said, her mouth full of her boyfriend's pancakes.

He laughed at her words, kissing her shoulder softly.

"I'm glad I was the first one to do that for you" he smiled.

"oh shit. the girls are supposed to be picking me up in a few" she said glancing at her phone.

Florian nodded, sipping on his coffee. He knew she was gonna go out which made it perfect for him. He was gonna try something new.

"enjoy sweetheart. if you need me just text" Florian kissed her before she left through the door.

He rushed to the kitchen, grabbing his phone and opening YouTube.

"how to make cake for my girlfriend's birthday"

The first video popped up was the video he opened.

He first got all the ingredients needed, and placed them on the counter in from of him.

He started by breaking the eggs, which ended up with a broken egg on the floor and some on his hands. He washed his hands quickly and cleaned the floor, before going back to work.

Time Skip

The cake was in the oven, but at what cost? Florian had flour in his hair and on his clothes, he dropped some oil on his shirt and now they won't go off. That's beside the floor and the counter that were messy.

He sighed, checking the time. y/n was supposed to be home in an hour or so. He runned to his bathroom, taking a shower to clean up.

After the shower, he went through his phone on his bed, before he started smelling something... burning?

His eyes widened at the realization, rushing to the kitchen and opening the oven.

It wasn't that bad but also, he had to cover it up. He groaned, his plan for the cake ruined by the burning of it.

He started first by cutting the burnt parts, throwing them away. He learned a fast way of making whipped cream. Which he did and tried covering up the cake.

But now it was all white and boring. He opened the fridge, trying to find something to design the cake. He found some strawberries which he cut and put around the cake. Then he found some M&Ms which he put in the middle. The cake was decent at end, but as soon as he finished the door of his apartment opened.

He rushed to the door, seeing y/n already taking off her shoes.

"how's my gorgeous girlfriend doing?" he chuckled nervously, making y/n look at him suspiciously

"what did you do?" she said, crossing her arms over her chest with a smile.

"why would you assume I did something?" he laughed anxiously, his eyes avoiding hers.

"well first your avoiding eye contact and second the house smells as if it was on fire" she said in a as a matter-of-fact tone.

Florian slammed his hand against his forehead, making y/n laugh.

"okay i tried something..." he mumbled. He walked her to the kitchen, leading her to where he placed the cake.

Her jaw dropped to the ground as she stared at the badly decorated but adorable cake her boyfriend made for her. Tears filled up her eyes quickly as she turned to Florian

"why are you crying? is it that bad?" he said quickly, making her slap his shoulder

"no stupid. I love this so much" she said, wrapping her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.

He let out a sigh of relief hugging her with same force back.

"this means so much to me you have no idea. thank you so much Florian." she mumbled into his neck. He kissed her head before she removed it from his neck.

"does it taste good tho?" y/n joked, getting a fork from the drawer. Florian gave her a nervous look, shrugging his shoulders.

She took a bite from the cake, her eyes widening, as she swallowed the piece slowly.

"it's...good" she said hesitantly, making Florian's face drop

"oh god is it that bad?" he chuckled.

"maybe a little bit" she said

He laughed, grabbing her waist and pulling her to his arms. He kissed her lips softly and tenderly.

"happy birthday baby. I'll phone the patisserie next to your house to make you another cake." he mumbled against her lips, making her laugh

#football #football x reader #football blurb #football imagine #football one shot #footballer imagine #florian wirtz x you #florian wortz x y/n #florian wirtz x reader #florian wirtz imagines #florian wirtz one shots #florian wirtz one shot #florian wirtz fluff #florian wirtz fic #florian wirtz fanfic #florian wirtz #bayer leverkusen

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starry-eyes-love · 11 months

Text

Marriage Dynamics - Texting with Hubby

Main Masterlist Series Masterlist

Summary | Joel x F!Reader are married and share in typical cute husband and wife dynamics that can occur with texting, especially when the wife (f!reader) informs Joel of how certain sexual practices will mean he is healthier. No out-break AU.

Warnings | 18+, minors DNI, sexual references and language, reference to smut without any smut, husband & wife dynamics, flirting, daddy kink, angst (female is upset for a moment), pet names (baby, honey, sweetheart, etc.) size kink, age gap but no statements of how old, slight emoji usage.

A/N: See the backstory of these two individuals in Jan 2024 with the series titled Love Never Fails.

Texting Back and Forth with Joel Miller, your husband

You (Y): So Joel, I got a health lesson for you. They say eating pussy is considered to be organic. I know the doctor said you needed to be healthier and to try to only consume organic things. So just FYI 😏

Joel (J): Haha. I believe me coming down that beautiful throat of yours is organic too darlin'.

Y: Haha, true. God you have a filthy mouth

J: Me? No. You do sweetheart, especially when I’m shoving that fat cock down it. Your mouth feels so good when I'm in it baby.

Y: 🤤

J: Since you brought it up, does my baby need some attention? I bet that little kitty of yours needs some extra special attention today, huh?

Y: I don’t know, considering we haven't done it for 3 weeks Joel.

J: Aw, poor baby. Is she achin’ bad honey?

Y: Aching and throbbing Joel. Just to warn you, she may claw you hard for how desperate she is for attention 🫣

J: Why don’t you give her a little pet, huh, until daddy can help relieve it? You gotta ease that pressure off a bit honey.

Y: Nope, not gonna happen.

J: Not gonna happen, why? When was the last time you gave her attention?

Y: Not since we had sex last Joel.

J: Seriously? You telling me you haven’t fucked yourself since we fucked last? 3 weeks ago?

Y: Yes Joel

J: Fuck baby, I fucked my fist last night in the shower when you were sleeping and at least 3 times in a week to relieve some tension cause we haven’t been able to find time in our schedules to do it together. Mama, you gotta do something to ease that tension sweetheart.

Y: Don’t

J: Oh my poor baby. Don't worry, daddy will make it feel better soon. Daddy will stroke it nice for ya. That little kitty will purr so good again darlin'

Y: Jesus Joel, fuck 😩

J: What mama? Is she really needy right now?

Y: What the fuck do you think?

J: Don’t know baby, don’t know until you tell me. Does she need a fat cock in it? Does she want it deep and hard inside of her?

Y: Jesus Joel

J: Come on mama, does she want it?

Y: Yes, yes I want it. Want it bad.

J: There ya go honey, why didn’t you say something. Unfortunately mama, you can’t have it. Not for awhile yet.

Y: Fuck you

J: Fuck me? Yes you will honey, tonight in our bed and hard. Now be a good girl for daddy and purr nice for me.

Y: Joel, baby…nevermind.

J: What? Tell me.

Y: 💦I want it

J: Want this? 🍆

Y: Yes

J: Ok, baby, tonight.

Y: You promise?

J: Yes I promise, later.

3 hrs later

J: I hope you realize that your ass is in trouble tonight. Fucking A.

Y: uh, are you talking to me, your wife?

J: Yes smartass, who else would I be talking to?

Y: I don't know who you talk to Joel.

J: Baby, I don't fuck around on you, you know that.

Y: No I don't

J: What the fuck does that mean? I ain't fucking other women. Jesus!!!

Y: Ok, hot head. Why is my ass gonna be in trouble then?

J: Just forget it

Y: You're an asshole

J: Really? Fuck off woman

Y: You texted me first ya dick, so fine.

J: No, you sent me that pussy comment and all I've been thinking about today is it

Y: I said fine

J: Do you know how hard it is to work at a construction site with a fucking hard on?

Y: I said fine Joel!

Y: Anyways, I’m sorry 😔

J: Sorry for what? 🤨

Y: Just forget it ok…just…

J: Baby, what's wrong? Talk to me

Y: Why? You're just going to yell at me again 😭

J: Are you really crying right now or…??

Y: Jesus, yes Joel. I am actually fucking crying. God, don't be such a dick to me.

J: Hey now sugar, come on. Daddy didn't mean it. What's the matter?

Y: Don't. Just don't Joel.

J: Mama what the fuck is the matter? Come on, ya gotta talk to me honey. Want me to call you???

Y: No it's just….forget it

J: No I ain't forgetting it. Come on baby, tell me. Do you want me to come home?

Y: No Joel, it's fine.

J: Obviously not. I'm coming home

Y: Don't be stupid

J: Why, cause my wife is upset and won't talk to me. Seems like a perfectly good reason to me.

Y: Jesus Joel, I'm fucking all worked up ok. I'm worked up and it hurts, and…

J: Now I’m gonna come home.

Y: Why?

J: Why? Cause my wife is in pain and hurting and I want to make sure she feels better and ok.

Y: You’re an asshole. I'm not talking about that kind of pain.

J: Baby, I know which one you're talking about. I bet she’s throbbing hard. Is she aching to be touched by your husband?

Y: I hate you

J: Where are you? You at home yet sugar?

Y: No. I have to leave to go and pick up the boys from school.

J: Why? School doesn’t get out for almost an hour.

Y: Yeah but I don’t want to park almost a mile away. They have construction and stuff so I want to actually find a parking space in the long ass line that probably is already there.

J: Ok, call me when you get there

Y: Why??

J: You'll see 😏

Y: Joel. Wtf??

J: There's a reason why I paid for tinted windows for the car baby. Mama's gonna fuck herself with her fingers, and her husband is gonna be the one on the phone helping her get there.

Y: You can't

J: Oh yes mama I can, and I will. Call daddy when you get there

Y: Joel, please, you can't

J: Baby, either you call me and I hear you fucking play with yourself or I will drive there myself and fuck you in that car. It ain't gonna take us that long baby. We’re both so fucking worked up.

Y: Why not just at home later?

J: I may be late tonight and not in on time

Y: Fuck you, seriously??

J: Baby, choose which one

Y: None

J: Y/n! Choose!!

Y: Fine, the one where you go fuck yourself and leave me alone

J: Fine, I’ll see you there in 20 minutes.

Y: Fine Joel, I'll fucking call you. Jesus.

J: Good girl

Y: Can I ask you a question babe?

J: 🤨

Y: Please?? 🥺 It's an innocent question.

J: Innocent my ass. What do ya want?

Y: Can you spank my ass later daddy, I want you to and then fuck that little hole with your fingers also as you take me from behind? Please 🙏🏼

J: Fuck. Yeah. Sure. We’ll do it sometime soon when I don’t want to fall asleep right away.

Y: Well, I’ll be waiting forever then. Damn it.

J: It ain’t like I want it to be like that. 20 mins y/n. 20 minutes and you call me or I'm coming over there, ya hear me.

Y: Fine

J: Promise?

Y: Yes I do. I think I’ll grab my toy, since my husband ain’t gonna get in there

J: You're trouble, I tell ya. You're gonna be the fucking death of me woman.

Y: I know, I love you 😘

J: Love ya too baby. Forever and always Angel, only you 😚💓😘

Taglist: @punkshort @shotgun-shelby @strawbunnyx @orcasoul @pedritoferg @chiogarza @jesfreedark @untamedheart81 @rainbow12346 @nandan11 @swiftpascal @eliza-8 @joeldjarin @vickie5446 @nastiasnow @staywildflowahchild @ratoonstown @l3laze @its-always-420-on-the-moon @kirsteng42

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel and reader #pedro pascal #joel miller masterlist #joel miller smut #the last of us #joel the last of us #joel x reader #joel x f!reader #joel x female reader #joel x y/n #joel x you #mini series #marriage dynamics #pedro pascal characters #texting story

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babyjakes · 9 months

Text

thinking about soft!steve being like a big brother to bucky's sisters (buck's the oldest and has three little sisters if i remember correctly?) what if one of them is so teeeeny tiny, maybe 2 or 3 when steve and buck go off to fight in the war? and steve leaves looking well you know, how pre-serum!steve looks. and then he comes back several months later and?? he's massive???? and baby is sooo alarmed, so scared, she runs runs runs and hides in the corner!! 🥺 "wh-where's my stevie? what did you do to my stevie??" having a big breakdown bc why is he so big and strong and scary looking now 😔😔 and he has to get down on his knees and talk real soft, trying to explain it in some way that she might understand, "oh little doll, i'm so sorry. i didn't mean to scare you- come here, sweetheart. please, let me explain" "i wasn't big or strong enough to be a soldier, honey, so a special doctor had to help me. he put me in this giant machine- it was really silly looking! and they put a bunch of medicine in me, and there was a big zap, and then tada! they made me so big and strong!" "oh sweetie, please don't cry" 🥺 "you've gotten so big and strong too since the last time i saw you, look at you! you're such a big girl!" "i brought you back some candy from the train station, i thought we could have a sleepover and share. we can stay up way past your bedtime, bub- what do you think?" "did you get my letters, sweetheart? i made sure to write every few days. there were some pictures in there too, did you see them? me and your big brother tried to take as many as we could for you" "please don't be scared, baby doll, i'd never hurt you. it's me, sweetie. still your stevie. come here, come on. i've missed your cuddles"

quietly tagging @brandycranby bc we’ve talked about stevie and bucky’s baby sister before and i think she’d like this 😌🤲

#eun misses stevie #steve rogers #captain america #mcu #marvel #avengers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers headcanon #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #the winter soldier #steve rogers fluff #bucky barnes fluff

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sequinsmile-x · 5 months

Note

Hi, just wanted to say I love your stories and hope your day is going well :P.

Quick ask:

In some of your stories you have them eloping or having a small wedding but could you do Hotch surprising Emily with a party (probably like in Rossi’s backyard) for a vow renewal/anniversary after Emily like drunkenly states that sometimes she wished that she’d celebrated with everyone (not that she regrets eloping). Bonus if like Jack is the officiant or one of their kids.

Thank you so much <3 I'm good and hope you are too!

I love this idea, and I hope you enjoy this fic! Please let me know what you think of it!

-x-

Redux

After a drunken confession when Emily gets home from a girl's night, Aaron plans something special for their first wedding anniversary.

-x-

Words: 3k

Warnings: brief mentions of alcohol consumption

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Aaron can’t help but smile when he hears the scrape of a key in the lock of the front door followed by complete silence. He pauses for a moment, frozen in place on the couch as he waits to see if his wife will manage to open the front door herself, but nothing else happens. He laughs and shakes his head, stopping to look at the baby monitor and smiling at the sight of his 10-week-old daughter fast asleep on the tiny screen.

He half jogs to the front door, keen to make sure Emily doesn’t accidentally wake up Violet or Jack, and pulls it open. His smile only gets wider when he sees her. Her brows are furrowed, seemingly confused over the door and how it was now open when she’d been struggling to make the lock work. Her eyes meet his and they are slightly glazed over, with a hazy look in them and the scent of tequila on her breath that he can smell from where he is standing. She smiles as she looks up, stumbling ever so slightly as she moves towards him, her lips firmly against his cheek as he wraps his arms around her.

“Hi honey,” she mumbles against his skin, sighing contentedly as she settles into his embrace.

“Hi sweetheart,” he replies, looking past the porch to the car in the driveway, exchanging a knowing smile and a wave with Will before he guides Emily into the house, “Did you have fun?”

“Yes,” she says, kicking her shoes off the moment she’s inside, no longer able to bear the way they were hurting her feet, and she makes her way to the stairs, “Missed you though.”

He locks the door and picks up her shoes, slipping them into their place on the rack, “Missed you too,” he says, pressing his lips together to suppress a smile as he catches up with her, his hands on her shoulders as he guides her to the living room, “Where are you going?”

She frowns and looks at him over her shoulder, glaring at him as she sits down, “To see my baby.”

“She’s asleep,” he says as he presses a kiss on her forehead and hands her the monitor, love blooming in his chest as she smiles at it, tracing her finger over the image of their sleeping little girl, “She missed you too.”

She looks up, concern flashing across her dark, hazy, eyes, “She was okay though? You could have called if-”

“Sweetheart,” he says, sitting down next to her, his hand warm and heavy on her thigh, “We were fine, it’s almost like we’re father and daughter,” he smiles as she narrows her eyes at him, any usual authority she’d have gone because of how drunk she was, “You needed some time with your friends,” he leans in to kiss her, something she deepens immediately, sweeping her tongue through his mouth, pushing the taste of tequila onto his tongue as her hand cups the back of his head. He chuckles as he pulls back, “It was margarita night, huh?”

She pouts at him, something she’d always deny when she was sober, “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not, I promise,” he assures her, pressing a kiss to her forehead before he stands up, “I’ll get you some water.”

She hums and rests her head back against the couch. She holds up the baby monitor again to look at Violet and she smiles. She’d spent more of the evening than she’d care to admit looking at pictures of Violet on her phone, scrolling through the hundreds of photos she’d taken in the 10 weeks since her little girl had been born. Penelope and JJ hadn’t commented on it, the latter giving her a knowing look when Emily realised she’d zoned out completely as she focused on her phone, somehow completely missing her friends trying to get her attention.

Emily worried about how she’d go back to work in a few weeks when just a few hours away from her baby had been difficult. She was trying not to think about it, desperate to enjoy the rest of the time she had at home with Jack and Violet before their life shifted into whatever their new normal looked like. She smiles as she hears Aaron walk back into the room and she looks up, her gaze fixed on his wedding ring as he passes her the glass of water he’d brought her.

Their wedding anniversary was in two weeks. She couldn’t believe it had been a year since she, Aaron and Jack had gone to the courthouse just the three of them, unaware that in a few short weeks, she’d be pregnant. Not one part of her regretted eloping. The day had been perfect, simple and quiet and them. After the ceremony, they’d gone for dinner and then left Jack with Jessica before they’d spent the night in a hotel. When she’d woken up in the morning, wrapped up in her husband and impossibly soft sheets she’d never been happier.

She had no regrets, she never could when it came to him and their family, but there were moments when she wished they’d had their friends with them when they got married, that they’d had people around them to celebrate their love with them.

“Thanks, honey,” she says, almost dropping the glass of water as he hands it to her. She takes a sip and spills a little on herself.

Aaron clears his throat to cover a laugh and he takes it from her, smiling curiously as she continues to look at him, her gaze fixed on his left hand, “Everything okay?”

She reaches for his hand and wraps both of hers around it, running her thumb back and forth over his ring, “Do you ever wish we’d had a bigger wedding?”

Whatever he’d been expecting her to say, it hadn’t been that. His shock, and the slight slurring of her words, means that it takes a few seconds for her words to register. He clears his throat before he answers, making sure he chooses his words carefully.

“I haven’t ever really thought about it,” he says, hooking his finger under her chin to make him look at her, “Do you ever wish we had a bigger wedding?”

She shakes her head, “No. Not really…I don’t know,” she says, her words all slipping into one, “Pen just said something when we were talking about our anniversary, that’s all.”

It was a topic of conversation that had come up a lot over the last year. The team were upset at first when they found out Aaron and Emily had eloped, but they came around to the idea when they saw how happy they were, especially when Emily told them she was pregnant just a few months later. Nowadays it only came out when Penelope was at the three margarita mark, a pout painted across her face as she lamented not being able to watch them get married.

Aaron frowns, concern bubbling in his gut as she smiles, a sad edge to it, “Em-”

“Do we have any dino nuggets?” She asks, cutting him off as she seemingly forgets what conversation they are having, her smile turning hopeful, “I’m hungry.”

He considers trying to push the subject, but he knows now is not the time, that it’s likely she won’t remember this in the morning anyway. He leans in and kisses her, pressing his lips against hers and then the tip of her nose, chuckling when she scrunches it up, “We have dino nuggets. I’ll cook some for you.”

She sighs contentedly as she sinks further into the couch, her eyes closed as she rests her head back, “You’re the best husband I’ve ever had.”

He looks at her over his shoulder as he walks towards the kitchen, “I’m the only husband you’ve ever had.”

She sticks her tongue out at him, “Go make me my food.”

“Yes, dear,” he says, saluting her as he leaves the room. Once he’s in the kitchen and the food is in the oven, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and sends a text to Dave, an idea already forming.

Think you can help me pull together an anniversary party in two weeks?

It doesn’t surprise him when the response is almost immediate, and he can picture the look on his friend's face.

Thought you’d never ask.

___

Aaron was up to something.

He’d never been very good at keeping secrets from her, so the moment he told her he was planning something simple for their anniversary, a glint in his eyes that she recognised from when he proposed, she knows he is planning something else. She lets him do it without comment. She buys a new dress when he suggests that she does even though they are supposedly only going for dinner. She simply smiles and nods along whenever he brings any of it up, content to let him do this for her, for them.

Before Aaron, she had never allowed anyone to look after her. Before him, she hated it. Hated the feeling of being coddled. Love and affection, two things she hadn’t experienced authentically a lot in her life, felt a little too much like control to her. She didn’t trust it, didn’t trust anyone who tried to show her it. And then Aaron happened. Perfect, stupid, amazing, Aaron who allowed her to take things at her pace, who didn’t baulk or run when she pushed him away or yelled at him for doing nice things for her.

He loved her in the way she needed until she’d let him love her in the way he wanted to.

So, she let him plan whatever he was planning without comment, without making it obvious she was on to him in some way even if she didn’t know exactly what he was keeping from her.

On the morning of their anniversary, she wakes up slowly, familiar knuckles skating up and down her side as she opens her eyes. She opens her eyes and smiles when her eyes meet his. He’s so close their noses are almost touching, his breath skipping across her face.

“Morning,” he says quietly, leaning forward to stamp his lips against hers, barely pulling back enough to talk, “Happy anniversary.”

She smiles and cups the back of his head, tugging him in for another kiss as she curls her fingers in his hair.

“Happy anniversary,” she says, kissing him once more before she pulls back, allowing herself to enjoy a rare peaceful moment with her husband. She furrows her brow and looks around, the unusual silence of the house finally settling over her, “It’s too quiet,” she mumbles, “Where are our children? Did you sell them?”

He laughs and kisses her again before he rolls onto his back and pulls her with him, tucking her into his side, “Jess picked them up about an hour ago,” he explains, running his hand up and down her back, “She’s going to have them today so we can have some time just the two of us,” he presses a kiss against the top of her head, “And before you ask, I packed plenty of breast milk from the fridge and freezer for Violet, and made sure I gave Jess the bottles with the medium flow nipples.”

She tilts her head up to look at him and cups his cheek, dragging him in for a kiss, overwhelmed by his love for her and their family, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replies, kissing her firmly as he pulls her impossibly closer. She groans into it, holding him in place with her palm still on his cheek.

“So,” she says, kissing him once more before she pulls back to look at him, “What’s the plan for today?”

“I’m going to make you breakfast and bring it to you,” he says as he tucks some hair behind her ear, “And then we can do what we want until dinner time.”

She playfully narrows her eyes at him, “What’s happening at dinner time?”

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out baby,” he says, winking in a way that she’s sure should make her furious, but it just makes desire roll in her gut. She bites her lower lip and throws her leg over his hip, shifting so she’s straddling him. He rests his hands on her hips to hold her in place and she leans in, her lips ghosting over his.

“Are you sure I can’t convince you to tell me?”

He hums, pretending to think about it even though he knows he won’t tell her. The party he’d been planning with Dave for the last couple of weeks was tonight - the wedding reception they’d never had with all their friends. He was getting a little nervous, unsure if she even remembered the conversation that had given him the idea in the first place. He smiles as he runs his hands under her shirt, chasing the goosebumps he causes with his fingertips.

“You can try.”

They spend all day together. A rare treat that they take full advantage of, most of their time spent naked apart from when he makes food for her. By the time they are ready to leave for whatever he has planned, her in her new dress and him in one of his suits, she’s sated and happy. When they are halfway to Dave’s house, she realises where they are heading, and she looks at her husband curiously, his focus on the road as he drives.

“Why are we going to Daves?”

He looks at her briefly and smiles, reaching out and grabbing her hand, pulling it towards him so he can kiss her knuckles, “You’ve been curious for two weeks, sweetheart. You can wait another 10 minutes,” he smiles when she scoffs and throws her another look, “You really think I didn’t know you knew something was going on?” He kisses her knuckles again, “I know you better than I know myself.”

She shakes her head and bites her lower lip, desperately trying to stop her smile from getting any wider, her cheeks aching with it, “We really are disgusting aren’t we?”

He laughs, her favourite sound in the world briefly filling the car as she repeats what Dave and Derek always said about them, kind and loving smiles on their friend’s faces as they joked they preferred it when Aaron and Emily were pretending they weren’t in love.

“I think so,” he says, squeezing her hand, “But I love it.”

“Me too,” she replies as they pull up onto Dave’s driveway, her curiosity piquing when she sees all of their friend's cars parked up too. She looks at Aaron as he turns off the engine and she narrows her eyes when he looks at her, faux innocence carved into his smile, “Okay, what’s going on?”

He blows out a quick breath, the anxiety he’d felt earlier about whether this was the right thing to do making a comeback, “Do you remember when you came home from girl’s night a couple of weeks ago?”

She nods, looking back and forth between him and Dave’s house curiously, “Yeah,” she says, trying to remember that evening, most of it a little hazy, “You made me dino nuggets.”

“I did,” he confirms, his smile seemingly ever-present, “And you mentioned that you sometimes wished we’d had a party when we got married.”

Her mouth falls open as she remembers, the memory jogged now he’d told her about it, and she swallows thickly, “Oh,” she says, looking back at the house, “So…”

“The team, Jess, the kids - they are all in there,” he says, watching her reaction carefully, “I thought we could spend our anniversary having the wedding reception we never had.” He stops talking to give her time to process, but when she doesn’t say anything. When she doesn’t even nod, he starts to panic, “If this is a bad idea, I can go in and tell everyone we’re going home. I’ll get the kids and-”

She cuts him off by kissing him, pressing herself as closely to him as she can with the centre console between them, her hand on his neck as she holds him in place. She rests her forehead against his as she pulls back, “Thank you.”

He laughs, the sound stuffed full of relief as he stamps his lips against hers, “You’re welcome.”

“I…” she drifts off, laughing softly as she shakes her head, “I hope you know I loved our wedding day,” she says, stroking back and forth over his jaw, “I love any day with you.”

He smiles, his dimples carved out deep in his cheeks as he does so, and she can’t help but press her thumb into one of them, “I love any day with you too.”

She kisses him again, her nose squished against his cheek, “We should get in there.” He nods and kisses her once more before he pulls away, getting out of the car himself before he quickly opens the door for her, putting his hand out for her. He wraps his arm around her as they walk towards Dave’s front door.

“I feel like I should warn you,” he says as they step onto the porch, “Garcia picked out the kid’s outfits.”

She groans and rests her head on his shoulder, “Do I even want to know what Violet is wearing?”

He laughs, but any response is cut off as the door opens. Jack is standing in front of everyone else, his smile wide as everyone speaks in unison.

“Happy Anniversary!”

-x-

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gummydummy19 · 2 years

Text

Kinktober day 5: Vaginal Felching

my favorite dessert

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x MALE READER

Summary: Wanda cooked for you after a long day at work, and you show her you can take care of dessert yourself.

Content Warning: Smut, vaginal felching (= creampie eating), sub Wanda, soft-dom male reader.

A/N: another male reader fic for the booiiss teehee, I hope you guys like it <3 also thank you @natashaxmarvelmen for the request! I hope you like it!!

Word Count: 1700+

"Honey, I'm home!" you yelled out as you walked through the front door. You were exhausted. It had been an awful week, but the smell of your girlfriend's cooking always put you in a better mood.

"I've always wanted to say that." You chuckled, walking over to greet Wanda. You wrapped your arms around her from behind and pressed a kiss against her cheek while she stirred a pot.

"Hi." she hummed appreciatively.

"Hi, sweetheart. That smells delicious."

"It's one of my mother's old recipes. It always cheered me up when I was little. I figured you could use some of that."

"God, I love you. How did I get so damn lucky?" you said, holding her even tighter.

"Hey hey, I'm equally as lucky mister!" she giggled, turning around in your grasp to finally attach her lips to yours. You hummed into the kiss, feeling all the stress seeping out of your body just from feeling her touch.

"Go sit down, dinner will be ready in a few."

Dinner was amazing. Wanda never failed to impress you with her cooking and as corny as it sounds, you could really taste the love she had put into it. The delicious food combined with the lovely company completely revived you. Before you knew it, dinner was finished and you felt yourself craving dessert.

"That was amazing, baby." you said, getting up to carry the plates to the kitchen and giving her cheek a kiss along the way.

"Hmm, I'm glad you liked it."

"I really did," you said, putting the plates in the dishwasher. "although I still have a bit of...appetite left."

"Oh," she got up with a worried look on her face. "Didn't I make enough? I think I have a little left over if you-"

"no no, baby don't worry." you cut off her nervous ramble "You just have me craving a very special kind of dessert."

You looked at her with dark eyes and a smirk on your face

"oh...oh!" she mumbled, catching your drift.

You didn't waste any time moving closer and picking her up. Wanda let out a giggle as she wrapped he legs around your waist and held on for dear life.

"God, I missed you so much," you grumbled, pressing kisses anywhere you could reach as you walked the pair of you to the bedroom.

"Missed you too..." she whined, "been thinking about you all day."

"Yeah?" You finally arrived at the bedroom, softly dropping her down on the fluffy mattress and hovering over her. "What did you think about, huh?"

"Your hands..." she said as you started unbuttoning her shirt.

"Yeah? What else, baby?"

“Your shoulders” she moaned as you removed your own shirt. Her fingers traced over your shoulder blades and went to your neck, pulling you down to meet her for a loving yet passionate kiss.

“Your smell, your eyes, your lips,” she said between kisses.

“Your arms, your thighs,…your butt” she giggled that last one

“My butt?” You chuckled

“Yeah, you got a nice butt.” She hummed before pulling you in for another heated kiss

“And your…your cock…” she said quietly.

You knew she had a difficult time with dirty talk. English wasn’t her first language and she was scared to embarrass herself, but once you had assured her you’d be turned on by whatever she said to you in bed, she started trying more. It was actually really sweet, and incredibly hot.

“Fuck, baby…” you kissed down her neck again, finally removing her shirt to reveal her bare breasts.

You dipped down to suck on her nipples, mumbling in between nips,

“Would you believe it if I told you my cock missed you too?”

That made her giggle a bit. Always such a sweet girl, your sweet girl.

“You drive me crazy you know that?” Your hands moved to unbutton her jeans, pulling down the material and taking her panties down with it.

“Hmm already so wet for me. You must have really missed me, huh?”

“Yes, sir, I really really did.”

“Oh good fucking girl.”

You loved it when she called you sir without having to ask her first. You could tell it turned her on too, the powerplay. She had a rough job, always having to be in control. Not in here, in here you were in charge and she was safe with you. She knew that, you made damn sure she did.

“You said you missed my hands too, didn’t you baby?”

“Yes, sir, missed all of you.”

“Hmm good girl. Move over baby, sit in between my legs.” You instructed.

You shimmied off your own pants and went to sit up against the headboard with your legs spread enough for Wanda to sit in between them.

You was stark naked and clearly needy. Her back was pressed against your bare chest and you knew she felt the straining erecting in your boxers pressing against her.

“C’mere baby spread your legs for me, like this.”

You showed her to hook her legs over yours. She was now sat in your lap, naked and needy, clearly aroused.

“Good girl” you whispered in her ear as your hands played with her boobs. Your right hand dipped lower, moving towards her dripping core.

“So wet for me, princess. Did you play with yourself at all this week?”

She shook her head no.

“Hmm no sir, been waiting for you.”

“Such a good girl, aren’t you? My perfect princess.”

You gathered some of her wetness on your fingers, slowly running your middle finger through her lips before softly starting to stroke her clit.

Her head immediately fell back against you and you could tell she wasn’t going to last long.

You altered between pumping two fingers inside of her a couple times and stroking her clit at a nice pace with those same, soaked fingers. When you could tell she was getting close, you curled your fingers inside of her and pressed the palm of your hand on her clit.

“Oh FUCK, yes please, sir…gonna cum, sir! SHIT!!”

Wanda came hard with trembling legs, clenching down around your fingers. You kept fingering her through her orgasm, making her squirt a little at the overstimulation.

“Oh good fucking girl! Such a good girl. C’mere…” you said and before she knew what was happening you had manhandled her underneath you. You quickly pulled off your boxers, which were now ruined by precum and lined yourself up at her entrance.

“You good, baby?” You asked, looking into her eyes to search for any signs of uncertainty.

“Yes, sir, please…please fuck me”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Wasting no time, to slowly but steadily pushed your length inside of her.

“Shit, princess, so fucking tight.”

“That’s…that’s not me…that’s you…” she moaned, referring to your clearly large cock.

“Fuck…” you grunted as you picked up the pace, fucking the both of you into oblivion.

“M’not gonna last long, baby…feel so good…pretty pussy feels so fucking good.”

“Cum…cum inside of me please sir…need to feel you.”

Holy fucking shit she was gonna be the death of you. Was she actively trying to make you bust prematurely?!

“Shit baby you can’t…can’t say shit like that”

“Gonna make me cum again, Sir! Please please cum inside!”

She wasn’t lying, you knew her body. You could feel her squeezing your cock and her chest was flashing pink spots. She was clearly keen on this idea but…you’d never done that before. You always pulled out. And even in your hazed state of mind, you wanted to make sure she knew what she was asking.

“Baby, I swear I’m not gonna last. Are you fucking sure you want me to cum inside?”

“So fucking sure. Please…”

Alright that did it. You reached down and rubbed her clit, pushing her over the edge hand in hand with you.

“Cum with me, princess, FUCK!”

She clawed your back and let out of loud moan. The feeling of cumming inside of her was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before. It definitely felt better than pulling out and helping yourself over the finish. You pushed deep inside of her and couldn’t help but moan in her ear as you heard her whimper at the feeling.

The two of you stayed like that for a little while. Your hearts racing in your chests, beating as one while you stayed firmly on top of her.

You lifted your head from where it fell into the crook of her neck and looked in her eyes. You saw the love and adoration you had for her reflecting in her gaze, and it was possibly the best feeling you’d ever experienced.

You pressed a sweet kiss against her lips.

“How was that?” You asked, feeling slightly embarrassed of not being able to last longer.

“Amazing.” She reassured you. “I hope your hunger is sated now.” She grinned, and it was like a lightbulb went on in your head.

“Actually…” you started to pull put of her “I’m suddenly craving…pie”

She cave you a curious look, but as you crawling down her body, she slowly understood where you were going.

“You really don’t have to…” she started.

“Baby, I honestly don’t care. If you can swallow it, so can I. I’m not one of those bitch boys who cares about shit like that, I just wanna taste you. Let me have a taste, ‘kay baby? Let me make you feel good”

“M’kay” she sighed happily as you licked up the creamy liquid dripping out of her abused pussy.

“Love the taste of us, princess. Sweetest pie in the whole damn bakery.”

You ate her out like there was no tomorrow, all you cared about was making her feel good. When she was all cleaned up you moved your tongue over he clit, still swollen and sensitive from previous activities.

“Gonna cum for me again, sweet girl?” You asked, knowing the answer already.

“Yes sir….” She whined.

You didn’t say anything after that. All you focused on was her pleasure. You licked and sucked on her pussy until her thighs squeezed your head and her fingers flew to your hair. Wanda came with a loud moan and you licked her through her high until she started scooting backwards begging for you to stop.

“This will always be my favorite dessert.”

#gummydummy19 #fluff #fanfiction #smut #wanda x male reader #wanda maximoff #male reader #marvel smut #marvel #wanda smut #wanda fluff

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pinkcannibal · 1 year

Note

Can I request nsfw headcannons with Marilyn when its readers birthday?

omg 🥺yeah <3

tw/warnings: nsfw, dumbification, mommy!kink, service top!marilyn thornhill, powerplay, fluff, smut etc

marilyn thornhill x fem!reader nsfw birthday headcanons

marilyn would definitely have your birthday marked in her phone calender, day planner, everywhere so she doesn't forget it (shes super doting and loving like that, which you seriously adore)

she'd wake you up slowly, have you giggling softly as she presses gentle, dizzying kisses into your neck and murmurs "goodmorning, sweetheart. happy birthday." against your lips with a smile and you're instantly spacey and doe eyed

she'd notice, tilt her head and cup your cheek all: "oh baby, is my birthday girl already so out of it for mommy? so soon?"

this would be the switch, you're still a little sleep hazy so marilyn's words would fill your throat with cotton as you whimper. she would be SO condescending and gentle with you, not forcing you into subspace too intensely as it's your birthday after all, but enough that you can throw away all your responsibilities for the day and just enjoy how she loves you, bc its YOUR special day and she wants to make it perfect for you

she'd fuck you any way you want, kissing you as slowly as she can to savour you and make you moan. "what do you want, baby?" if you wanted her mouth, you'd get it. her fingers, her tongue, her strap, anything. marilyn just wants to make you feel as good as she can.

but it would definitely start with you pathetically trying to grind on her thigh, whining and begging, which she would find so adorable, bc your eyes are desperate and wet with need, and she finds you so pretty when you blush. so she'd definitely just sigh lovingly, encourage your grinding and groan at how wet you would be on her thigh through your underwear.

marilyn would definitely let you come like that, murmuring the most degrading praise in your ear all as you grind, chase your high, and moan her name. "that's it honey, keep going." she'd coo. "let mommy do all the thinking today, okay? can you be a good girl for me and be my little dolly? you deserve it, darling."

her words would make you so floaty, enough that you would just pathetically stutter for her strap and plead for more (she would love how you still blush at calling her mommy. she finds it so endearing) but marilyn would immediately give it to you, kissing up and down your back as she takes you from behind, holds your hips in her possessive hands, and makes you see stars

after that, you would definitely be just craving her being on top the whole time. feeling her weight atop you as she thrusts into you, holding her as close as you can, and burying into her neck as you whine and come against her cock

SOOO much aftercare when she's done with you, running you a bath, making you breakfast, kissing every part of your body lovingly, gifting you whatever expensive, time consuming plant she cultivated for you. youd blush at the attention and tell her how she doesn't have to do this/how underserving you feel.

but she'd frown, play with her glasses in confusion at the idea she wouldn't. "baby, you deserve this and more" you would definitely have hearts for eyes after that comment. giggling and kicking your feet for real <3

#marilyn thornhill x reader #marilyn thornhill #marilyn thornhill x fem reader #laurel gates x reader #wednesday netflix #reader fic #christina ricci #asks #also omg if ur requesting this bc its ur bday...happy bday!

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heartknives · 2 years

Text

i love nona you know my friend nona... the NINTH......

#she is my special time girl my honey baby sweetheart <3 #150 pages innnn oh my god if [redacted] is even mentioned . DEATH for caroline #the locked tomb spoilers #nona the ninth spoilers #.txt #reading tag

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visceravalentines · 2 years

Text

Peaches & Strawberries

Dilf!Bo Sinclair x AFAB!Reader

5.1k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Smut & fluff, age gap, dad's best friend, semi-public sex, Daddy kink, fingering, dirty talk & praise, soft orgasm denial, very mild alcohol use by Bo, reader is referred to as darlin', baby girl, pretty, and wears a skirt

Bo takes you to the farmer's market and definitely behaves the whole time.

Your weekends at Bo’s house became a regular occurrence. You made up all kinds of excuses for your parents – some friends from school were visiting the area, you heard about a cool museum exhibit a couple towns over, you were going camping. Finally your mother confronted you after a convoluted story about a rodeo, a car show, and a movie premiere all apparently taking place in one weekend.

“Sweetheart, did you meet someone?”

You felt your face heat up. “I mean…yeah, I did.”

“Well that’s wonderful! You can just tell us, you know, you’re an adult.”

“Yeah…I guess you’re right.”

“Where did you two meet, at work?”

“Yes, actually. He…came in the shop a few times.” He certainly had. More than a few. And he wasn’t the only one.

“Well when do we get to meet him?”

“Um, I don’t know. Probably not for a while. He’s…shy? And I don’t want to…freak him out.”

“I get it, honey, you don’t want him to think it’s too serious too soon.”

You had spent the majority of your waking hours and a significant portion of the sleeping ones with him for the past month. “Exactly. Nothing serious.”

“Well, whenever you’re ready, we’d love to meet him!”

“I’m sure you’ll think he’s…really something.”

She smiled. “Any friend of yours is a friend of ours, sweetheart.”

Bo choked on his coffee as you recounted this exchange. “She did not say that,” he coughed.

“She absolutely did, I was horrified,” you said.

“You’re makin’ things up to impress me.”

“I would never do that.”

“Mmm, you ‘member that time you said you knew what a catalytic converter was?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“And what did you bring me?”

“I don’t even know what it was.”

“Y’see my point.”

He kissed you, and you kissed him back. “You taste like coffee.”

“Gimme ten minutes and I’ll taste like you, baby girl.”

That smirk made you weak in the knees. “I knew there was a reason I put up with you.”

“You got some kinda attitude today, someone oughta fuck that outta you.”

“Are you offering?”

Bo smiled. “Beggin’ on bended knee, darlin’.”

“You’re gonna have to wait until we get back from the farmer’s market, I’m afraid.”

“With you dressed like this?” He gestured to your short, flouncy skirt. “You’re gonna get me kicked outta the farmer’s market.”

You gave him a look. “You better behave yourself.”

He held out a hand. “Nice to meet ya, I’m Bo. I’ve never behaved a day in my life. ‘Specially not with you around showin’ all that skin.”

You laughed and hooked your fingers in his belt loops. “Repeat after me. We are not fucking at the farmer’s market.”

“You’re gonna have to forgive me, I’m hard o’ hearing. Sounded like you said we are not fucking at the farmer’s market.”

“That is what I said.”

“Well then why are we even goin’.”

“Because it’s fun and we need fruit.”

He rolled his eyes, smiling, and kissed your forehead. “I have never seen you eat a fruit in my life.”

“Bo, I want to go!”

“We’re goin’! Your wish is my command, baby girl.”

Together you climbed in his truck and drove thirty minutes to the next town over, where your faces were not immediately recognizable. Bo pushed your skirt up to rest his hand in its customary place on your thigh. The sky was clear and the air was still cool and he looked so damn good in a trucker hat and sneakers. You felt such immense contentment ballooning in your chest it was almost too much to handle.

He was murmuring along with the song on the radio, fingers tapping in time on your leg. He looked over and caught you smiling at him. “Y’like what you see, darlin’?”

“Sure do.” You rubbed his thigh.

He scowled. “If I gotta be on my best behavior so do you.”

“I’m always on my best behavior.”

“Oho no you ain’t, you little liar.”

“I am!”

“No no no, you’re a goddamn temptress with that body.”

“I am not!”

“Battin’ those eyes, switchin’ them hips.”

“I do not do that.”

“Flirtin’ with customers, makin’ me jealous.”

You squeezed his knee. “I make you jealous?”

“Unbearably, darlin’.”

You leaned against his shoulder, looked up at him through your lashes, eased your hand up his inner thigh. “C’mon, Bo, you don’t have to be jealous.”

“Quiiit.” He took your wrist and placed it back in your lap. “I will pull this truck over right now.”

“And do what?”

He smirked. “You know what, baby.”

You grinned. “Okay, okay.” You leaned back in your own seat. “I’ll be good.”

He winked at you. “You sure will.”

This particular farmer’s market was hosted by a historical farm that now operated a petting zoo and a community garden. The property boasted a barn, a stable, and fields turned to grassy picnic space. The market today was busy, seething with couples, children, dogs.

Bo took your hand and led you down the first row of stands. You wandered all the way through every aisle once to get a feel for the various offerings before looping back to the beginning. People sold produce of all sorts, other foodstuffs like jam and honey and salsa, and a wide variety of non-edible wares including pottery, jewelry, clothing, and art.

Bo rested his hands on your hips from behind as you surveyed the happy chaos. “Alright, baby girl, what d’you want?”

“Peaches, strawberries, probably salsa, maybe bread.”

“How ‘bout you get peaches while I grab us lemonade from over there?” He gestured with his head.

“That sounds good. Don’t get lost, old man.”

“Don’t talk to any strangers, y’damn child,” he muttered, pinching your ass before he walked off.

The line for peaches was longer than it had any right to be. You scuffed your sneaker against the pavement, checked your shoulders for the early signs of sunburn.

“Hey, excuse me,” came a voice from behind you. You turned to find a man about your age, wearing reflective sunglasses and chewing gum with his mouth open. He could’ve been cute, but it was hard to tell. “This is the line for peaches, right?” You nodded politely. “Cool. You’re really pretty, by the way.”

You did the universal half-turn away from him that meant you were done interacting. “Thank you.”

Sunglasses had apparently never heard of this turn. “You got a boyfriend?”

You made a herculean effort to avoid rolling your eyes. “Yes.”

“Oh. Could I get your number though?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Are you here by yourself?”

You caught a glimpse of Bo approaching with a look on his face like he hadn’t decided yet whether he was going to assault this kid verbally or physically or both. “No, I’m with him.” You gestured with your head.

Sunglasses looked at Bo, then back at you. “Is that your dad?”

You barely bit back your laughter. The opportunity was too good to pass up. “Yeah, definitely.” You smiled at Bo as he sidled up next to you. “Hi, Daddy.”

“Hey baby.” Unfazed, he bent and kissed you, open-mouthed, all tongue. Sunglasses choked on his gum.

Bo pulled away from you to address your admirer. His arm was around your waist, immovable, possessive. There was a smirk on his face but his eyes were steel. “Y’stand there any longer and I’m gonna have to charge you admission.” His tone was icy. “Pick your jaw up and walk away.”

Sunglasses did just that, couldn’t put distance between him and you fast enough. Bo watched him go with barely disguised contempt. When he shifted his attention back to you, his expression softened immediately. He shook his head in mock disbelief. “I leave you alone for five fuckin’ minutes.”

You gazed up at him with admiration. “You scared the shit out of him.”

“Didn’t I tell you not to talk to strangers?”

“He talked to me.”

“‘S about to be the last mistake he ever makes.” His tone was light, didn’t match the hard set of his jaw.

“I’m okay, Bo, really.”

He kissed your forehead. “I’ve told you before, anyone gives you trouble, darlin’, I’ll make sure they get what’s comin’ to ‘em.”

You smiled, gave him a squeeze. “I believe it, baby.”

“Oh no, it’s Daddy now.” He handed you your lemonade. “Why you lookin’ at me like that?”

You faced forward in the line, chewing your lip. “We are not fucking at the farmer’s market,” you said under your breath.

Bo chuckled, put his hand on your lower back, his pinkie creeping below the waistband of your skirt. “You keep tellin’ yourself that, baby girl. Your lips on that straw are givin’ me other ideas.”

You finally reached the start of the line for peaches without further incident. Bo, a true Southern gentleman, gladly agreed to hold the bag for you.

Together you made your way to the rest of the stands you wanted to hit, managing to get sidetracked only by a booth with fancy soap. This proved to be a distraction in more ways than one when Bo whispered in your ear something about you, him, and a bath while you were in the process of paying the lady behind the table.

“Repeat after me,” you hissed under your breath as you walked away from the booth. “We are – “

“Not fuckin’ at the farmer’s market, I know. I was clearly talkin’ about afterwards. If you can’t keep your head right that ain’t my problem.”

Never had you wanted to kiss and slap someone at the same time.

At the strawberry stand, they gave you a little container of freshly whipped cream to go with the basket of berries. You were delighted and practically dragged Bo to an open space in the field by the barn. A big tree cast shade over couples and families picnicking in the heat.

He sat cross-legged on the grass and you sprawled with your head in his lap. You held the cream and he dipped strawberries, eating every other one himself and feeding the rest to you with the utmost delicacy.

“You’re too much, you know,” you said, gazing up at him, absolutely infatuated.

“Nah,” he said around a strawberry. “Sometimes things are just this good, darlin’. Just let ‘em be.”

The light came through the leaves in dapples like confetti. The grass was slightly sticky in the heat. The strawberries were cold and so was the cream and if you got to create your own heaven, this would almost certainly be a part of it.

You ran your finger around the inside of the container when it was nearly empty and made eye contact with him as you sucked off the cream. Bo looked down at you with the poker face he pulled off so well. “You ready to go?” you asked him sweetly.

“No,” he said. “I wanna look around a little bit. Maybe see what’s inside that barn.”

You cocked an eyebrow. “What do you think is going to be inside the barn?”

“Well darlin’, I just don’t know. Why don’t you come with me and we can find out together?”

The grass left crosshatch lines imprinted all over your arms and legs when you sat up. “I know what’s not in that barn.”

“I don’t think you know anythin’ until you’ve seen for yourself.”

The two of you climbed to your feet, dusting yourselves off, and with your bag in one hand and your hand in the other, Bo led you down the path to the barn door. Chickens bobbed and wandered aimlessly in front of the door. “‘Scuse us, ladies,” Bo addressed them as you picked your way through.

The barn was extremely well kept, with a row of pens on the righthand side housing a small donkey and a few sheep. The left side was split between an enclosed storage room with a loft high above it and a big open space with hay bales stacked three and four high. Two families with a few small children were preoccupied with the sheep when you walked in. It smelled like fresh hay and animal sweat, a sweet, earthy, not unpleasant smell.

You nodded at the parents of the babbling children, followed Bo past the animals to the back of the barn. A ladder led up to the hayloft. It was hung with a bright yellow chain and a sign saying “Do Not Climb.” Bo set your bag behind a hay bale, stood with his hands in his pockets and an eye on the families nearby, the picture of nonchalance.

“Bo,” you said warily.

“Yes dear.”

“What are you doing?”

“Just enjoyin’ the ambiance.” He gazed up the ladder. “What d’you think is up there?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

“Hmm.” The kids scattered out of the barn, shrieking, their parents ten steps behind. Bo reached behind you, grabbed your ass. “Go ahead and scootch up that ladder, let’s find out.”

“Bo!”

“Go on, baby girl.”

“The sign says we can’t.”

“Sure does.”

He pushed you gently to the base of the ladder. You stepped over the chain and started up the first few rungs.

“Damn, what a view.”

You twisted to look over your shoulder. He was staring up under your skirt with a lascivious grin on his face.

“You’re the devil.”

“Don’t I know it.”

You scrambled the rest of the way up the ladder and into the loft. It was filled with old farming equipment, dusty tools and bags of feed. Half a dozen hay bales were stacked on one end. Your footsteps echoed off the rafters as you moved away from the ladder.

Bo pulled himself up behind you. “See, there’s all kinds o’ stuff up here.”

“Yeah, I’m sure this shovel is exactly what you were hoping for.”

“I was hopin’ for a bed, actually. Knew it was a long shot.” He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, kissed your ear. “Y’know, this ain’t technically part o’ the farmer’s market.”

You tried to suppress a smile. “And what does that mean?”

“I think it means I’m gonna have my way with you right over there.” He inclined his head towards the hay bales. “Y’got any objections to that, baby girl?”

You tilted your head to one side, allowing him to kiss your neck. “We’re gonna have to be so quiet.”

“We’ve established you’re good at that.” He ran his hand up your ribs, over your breasts. His other hand fussed at your skirt. “Real well-behaved sometimes for such a naughty lil thing.”

“One of us has to be.”

He snickered and caressed your jaw with his thumb. “Makes it more fun to dirty you up, angel.”

You arched your back, pressed your ass against him. “Are you sure about this?”

“Absolutely.”

“It’s a barn, Bo.”

“I’d fuck you anywhere. Lemme make things a little more comfortable, how ‘bout that?” He let go of you, took off his hat, stripped off his shirt and draped it over a hay bale, then put his hat back on.

You couldn’t help but grin at the way he looked at you for approval. “You’re so fucking cute.”

“Quit flatterin’ me, c’mere.”

He sat on the hay, pulled you in to straddle his lap. His kiss was hungry and tasted like strawberries. You splayed your hands on his bare skin, combing your fingers through his chest hair. He put his hands on your thighs, slid them greedily up to the hem of your skirt, underneath it, up to your hips, around to your ass. You pressed yourself against him, exploring his mouth with your tongue.

“Can’t believe you were gonna make me wait for this til we got all the way home,” he murmured. “Would be downright cruel, darlin’.”

“Not all the way home,” you said breathlessly. “Just down the road a little.”

He laughed, kissed you, nipped at your lip. “Minx.” His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties. “Get these off.”

You tugged on his belt loops. “Get these off.”

“Don’t you boss me around. That ain’t no way to speak to Daddy.”

Your face heated up. “That does not need to catch on.”

“It’s caught, baby girl, now do as I say.”

You slid off him, worked your panties down your legs and stepped gingerly out of them. Simultaneously he undid his fly and adjusted his jeans to free his erection. You all but threw yourself back into his arms.

He supported your weight with his hands beneath your thighs as you started to grind against him. The way his lashes fluttered in response was unbearable, beautiful. He let out a quiet groan. The heat of him between your lips set you on fire.

“God, Bo, you can’t feel this good.”

He shook his head. “Darlin’, you can’t be sayin’ sweet things to me already or I’m gonna make a damn mess of this skirt.”

You bit your lips, smiling, and lolled your head back, digging your nails into his shoulders for extra leverage as you rocked back and forth. Bo pulled your top off over your head and kissed your breasts one at a time with something like reverence.

“You look mighty fine up there,” he said in a low voice.

You eased his hat off his head, put it on. “How ‘bout now?”

“Fuck. Even better.” He kissed the hollow of your throat, your collarbones, down the center of your chest. His cock was slick with precum and your arousal and you angled your hips to press him into your entrance.

“Ah-ah, not so fast, angel.” He pushed you back. “You gotta want it.”

You frowned down at him. “I do want it.”

He pinched his tongue between his teeth, smiled slyly. “Then ask nicely.”

You resumed sliding against him. “Please, can I have you inside me?”

“‘M not convinced, try again.”

“Please let me ride you, Bo.”

“Try again, darlin’.”

The sound of conversation below you made your stomach flip. You threw a glance over your shoulder and Bo took your chin, brought your gaze back to him.

“‘Scuse me, we were in the middle of somethin’,” he whispered.

“What if we get caught?”

“We ain’t gonna get caught.” He opened his knees, spreading your legs wider, and pressed himself against you. “Now ask me one more time.”

You met his pretty eyes. “Please, sir, will you fuck me?”

He pulled you onto his cock in answer, pushing halfway into you, eliciting a sharp intake of breath and a loud squeak of surprise. You clapped a hand over your mouth.

Bo shushed you, laughing quietly. “That’s more like it.”

He let you sink all the way onto him. You moaned softly under your breath and rested your chin on his shoulder. He drew you close, stretching you pleasantly around him. You wrapped him in your arms, hyperfocused on the quiver of him inside you, the involuntary squeezing of your walls.

He groaned in your ear, a deep, throaty sound that made goosebumps erupt down your back. You felt his tongue on your skin, tasting the sunshine salt of your sweat. ”Not gonna fuck you yet,” he murmured. “Just wanna sit with you a while.”

“Bo,” you whimpered. He hmmed in response and grazed your neck with his teeth. His mouth moved down your shoulder, across your chest, worshipping you with lips, tongue, and teeth. You ached for friction, felt so full and yet wound so tightly with need. Cautiously you wiggled your hips, just once, and were rewarded with a jolt of pleasure to your nerve endings and the dig of his fingers in your flesh, a reprimand.

“Please, Bo.” You arched against him and he acquiesced, began to bounce you up and down on his cock, so slowly, the tendons in his wrists jumping with the intensity he was holding back. You choked off a moan, closed your eyes tight, forgot about everything in the world except for the way he slid so nicely in and out of you. Your toes curled. You held onto his shoulders for dear life, let out a shaky sigh, a soft whine.

“Fuck, baby girl.” His whisper was hoarse. “Y’know what you’re doin’ to me?”

It was hot outside, hot up in the loft, not too hot to want him on top of you, all over you, and like he could read your mind, he lifted you off his lap, laid you down on the hay, straddled your hips and thrust himself back into you even deeper than before. No sooner had your mouth fallen open to release an involuntary cry when he suppressed it with his big, rough hand.

“Easy, darlin’, be good.” You moaned into his palm. “I know, I know.” He was hitting some spot deep inside you that made your eyes roll back, caused you to clench around him like you couldn’t bear to let him go for even a second. He took his hand off your mouth. “Y’like it like this?”

“Yes, sir.” Your voice was a frantic, tremulous whisper.

The rhythm of his hips was intoxicating. “I like you like this,” he breathed in your ear. “So pretty, all worked up. All mine.” You wrapped your legs around him, raked your nails down his back, bit your lip hard trying to hold it all in.

You could tell he was close as his thrusts became rougher. He nipped at your earlobe, hand squeezing your breast. “Call me Daddy, baby.”

Your whole abdomen snapped taut. “Daddy,” you gasped.

He growled, ramped up his pace. The friction between you was magnetic, a force. “You want it, darlin’?”

“Yes, please Daddy, please, god - “

He let out a gruff moan when he hit his peak, pushed his face against your cheek. You kissed him full on the mouth, lustful and needy, as he arched above you, muffling your desperate sounds on his lips as you came right behind him, clenching around his cock, pulling a ragged, overwhelmed gasp out of him.

The rafters came gradually back into focus up above as together you rode the waves of your ecstasy. Bo came down first, ran his thumb over your cheekbone, the corner of your jaw, watched the glaze over your eyes fade. The softest of smiles played on his lips.

“Anythin’ you want, darlin’, it’s yours. Move heaven ‘n earth if y’asked me to.”

You kissed him, kissed the scar on his chin. “How ‘bout you take me home and we get takeout on the way and then see about that bath?”

“Got a brain on ya too, huh?”

“Just a little bit left.”

“Hmm, we’ll have to fix that.” He placed a kiss on your forehead. “Get your clothes on, dammit, this is a public place.”

You dressed quickly and quietly. Bo’s shirt was cumstained and unwearable, so you provided him with a bonus from the peach vendor: a peach-colored t-shirt with “I eat 🍑” emblazoned on the front. It was slightly too small for his broad shoulders, the soft fabric tight across his chest, but he had no complaints.

It took forever for the crowd in the barn to wander out. You passed the time leaned against a mountain of bags of animal feed, kissing and giggling quietly like teenagers under the bleachers. Bo let you keep his hat on. The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled at you. It rocked your world every time.

At long last the barn was empty and he let you climb down first. From the ground you looked up at the way his jeans hugged his ass.

“Damn. What a view,” you said with a grin.

Bo looked over his shoulder at you and smirked. “You’re lucky I like that mouth.”

He drove home holding your hand, made a quick stop at a Chinese restaurant you both loved. Together you ate on his couch and struggled through the worst game of chess that has ever been played.

While you put away the spoils of the farmer’s market, Bo ran a bath to wash off the sweat and dust of the day. The guest bathroom in the basement boasted a large jetted tub big enough for two. When you wandered downstairs, Bo was already in the water, reclining with his eyes closed and a glass of whiskey in hand. Almost every surface in the room was covered in flickering candles.

He opened his eyes and watched you undress wearing an expression of absolute serenity. You stepped into the water, settled in between his legs, laid your head back on his shoulder. When he wrapped his arms around you, you put your hands on his wrists and rubbed your thumb gently over his scars.

“Thanks for taking me out today. I had a good time.”

“Was a pleasure, darlin’.”

You gazed around the bathroom. “Where did you get all these candles?”

“Vince made ‘em.”

“He makes candles too? All of these?”

“Mmhm.”

“When do I get to meet him?”

He didn’t answer right away. When he did, his tone was guarded. “I dunno, baby girl. He don’t come around too often.”

You laced your fingers through his. “Did something happen?”

“Since when’d you get so nosy?”

“Sorry, I just…you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to talk about it. I just want to know about you.”

“‘S just a sensitive subject, but it’s alright, I’ll tell you about it. We ran a family business together back in Louisiana, all three of us. Inherited it from our parents when they died. Unfortunately, after a while, we stopped seein’ eye-to-eye on the direction to take things. It took a lot outta us, became our whole lives.

“Les and I were in favor of packin’ it in, movin’ on. Vin didn’t want to. He was outvoted. The whole operation meant a lot to him – meant a lot to all of us, but him especially – and he resented us for shuttin’ it down. Felt like we were abandonin’ him.” There was a strain to his voice. “We weren’t, least we weren’t tryin’ to, but…at some point you gotta live your own life the way you wanna live it. He had to accept it was time to let it go, no matter how much it hurt.”

“And you don’t talk anymore?”

“He sends me stuff, his art. All those sketches. The candles. But no. I ain’t seen his face for some years, except in the mirror.”

He sounded wistful, like he was trying to resign himself to the situation but couldn’t quite manage it. You squeezed his hands, nuzzled into his neck. You had a thousand more questions but didn’t want to hear him answer them in that hollow voice. “I’m sorry. It sounds like you were really close.”

“Close as you can be to another person, matter o’ fact. We were born conjoined.”

This shocked you. “Really?”

“Mmhm. Separated a few months after birth. Inseparable after that.” He traced shapes on your skin absently. “There ain’t words for losin’ somethin’ like that.”

No wonder he sounded gutted. You felt guilty for not knowing, guilty for asking, guilty there was nothing you could do to take away that hurt. “I’m sorry I brought it up.��

His hand stilled and he gave you a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry yourself none. I don’t mind talkin’ to you about him. I hope you get to meet him someday. I always kinda thought he was my better half.”

“Better than you?”

“Oh yes, darlin’.” He kissed the back of your head. “I ain’t nothin’ special.”

“Well that’s not true.” You traced the back of his fingers. “What about Lester? Do you see him ever?”

“Les and I meet up a couple times a year. He’s up north, works for the forest service. He has a hunting cabin I stay at sometimes. Maybe I’ll take you up there.”

“I’d like that.”

“Me too, baby girl.” He chuckled softly. “You’ll like Lester. He’s weird.”

“Weirder than you?”

“You can’t imagine.”

His hand dipped beneath the water, fingertips trailing over your stomach, your thighs. Your muscles twitched with practiced anticipation when he brushed your clit. “Greedy, darlin’,” he murmured in your ear. “Can’t get enough o’ me, huh?”

“Never.”

“Good.”

He touched you casually, with practiced restraint, circling your clit and slipping his digits inside you with no sense of urgency.

In a matter of minutes you were putty in his hands. Each time you were close he withdrew, stroked your legs, kissed your neck, cupped his hand over your sex and held it there, warm and possessive. No amount of begging, pleading, or use of nicknames got you anywhere. Every time he touched you again it brought a wave of bitter relief but no satisfaction. He sipped his drink and watched you squirm.

You were all but weeping when he finally let you cum on his fingers, the exhilaration when he didn’t stop matched only by the euphoria when you hit your release at last. The candlelight was hazy, the water cooling, your entire body hot and tingling. Bo swallowed his last mouthful of whiskey and you could taste it on his tongue.

“Y’got any brains left?” You shook your head, dumbfounded. “Perfect. Let’s get you to bed, baby girl.”

He wrapped you in a fluffy towel, drained the tub, blew out the candles, and led you up to his bedroom.

“I know you always bring your own stuff, but I picked you up a few things.”

In his bathroom you found a toothbrush and toiletries, all the brands you preferred, neatly organized in the cupboards and drawers. Your heart nearly tumbled out of your chest.

“I cleared out half the dresser too, just so y’know,” he called from the next room. “Left side’s yours if y’want it.”

You thought you might just melt onto the floor. You padded back into the bedroom where he was pulling on a pair of pajama pants. He furrowed his brow when he caught you staring at him. “What?”

“You…remembered the things I like. Bo…that’s so thoughtful.”

To your surprise and delight, he flushed red. “It ain’t hard,” he said. “Thought it would make you comfortable.”

“It does.” Your smile was radiant. “And you made space for my clothes, too?”

He put his hands on his hips. “I’m not proposin’ or nothin’, just sick o’ you leavin’ your shit all over my house every weekend.”

“Sure.” You beamed at him. “Thank you so much.”

Bo huffed. “You’re welcome I guess. Would y’get in bed already? It’s so damn late.”

You settled in, pulled him close, hitched your leg over his hip. He rested his chin on your head and you felt him relax as he loosed a sigh. The sound of his heartbeat was low and comforting, your body blissed out and your mind at ease.

“I’m all yours, Bo,” you said into his chest.

“Don’t you forget it.”

“And you’re mine.”

His lips found yours in the darkness and he kissed you sweetly.

“If you’ll have me.”

Taglist at the bottom bc this is a monster post already: @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better, @slutforguts, @brandnewhuman, @fluffy-little-demon, @cypressnmarigolds, @slasherlouvre , @g0thl3zz, @frankiethedarkangel . If you'd like to be added to the taglist, let me know!

#bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #slasher x reader #dilf bo sinclair #my writing

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goldengoddess · 2 years

Note

hey! i know your requests are closed, but if you ever get time, can we get nikolai lantsov as dad? i feel like it would be complete chaos! Thank you <3 (ps. love love love your work)

dad!nikolai headcanons ♡

authors note: been such a long time since i’ve written for my favorite prince book boyfriend. i hope you all enjoy my return to grishaverse writing.

warnings: pregnancy & labor

nikolai as a dad ???

are u kidding me how have i never thought of this before

i must remedy this immediately

first let’s talk about nikolai when his kid is born

obviously he’s been dotting on your hand and foot since he found out you were pregnant

when you look back on your pregnancy, you can’t really remember ever having to get up to grab something

nikolai brought you e be everything, insisting you just sit and look pretty since that pregnancy test came out positive

“oh absolutely not” was a common phrase to hear out of his mouth during those nine months

and of course he let you squeeze the life out of your hand while you were in labor, left his hand practically blue and purple but you didn’t hear him complain even once

and when your baby girl is finally in the world? PHEW! nikolai is nothing but smiles

my man is a girl dad all the way

like he Spoils your daughter in every way possible

he cries the first time he holds her

and the second, third, and fourth time

he’s pretty much a mess of tears and emotions, taking turns kissing you and your daughter

thanking you over and over again for bringing my something so good into the world

something that is a little bit of the two of you

“nikolai darling stop thanking me for pushing out our daughter and go get me some ice chips please?”

of course, in dramatic nikolai fashion, he gives her the biggest room in the grand palace

paints / decorates it all by himself while you sit and rock your daughter

he talks to her as if she could understand

though

“so sweetheart this is going to be your room. i hope you like the green but if not we can always paint it. and what do you think about this crib huh honey?”

buys her All of the toys

asks all of the grisha to perform fun little tricks for you

basically spoils her rotten

the three of you spend a lot of time in the gardens of the palace

nikolai makes it the family tradition to have picnics every sunday

nikolai (girl dad he is) brings her everywhere

she sits on his lap during during strategy meetings and giggles the whole way through

and nikolai doesn’t let one single laugh pass without commenting on it

“do you hear that beautiful little giggle? that’s my cute girl”

buys her cute little sweaters

gets her a tiara because she is “technically and literally a princess”

bring her into yalls room at night even when she’s not meant to be there

nikolai and david create special headphones so that she doesn’t have to cry about the noise during parties

gets obsessed with paintings of the three of you together

when she’s older, nikolai brags about every single one of her accomplishments

oh he loves her little teen attitude

when she starts rolling her eyes all he can be is PROUD

“look sweetheart she’s got my sass isn’t it cute”

the two of them end up bonding and falling in love with inventing

you find the two of them working together late at night

as much as nikolai wants everyone to think his daughter is daddy’s girl

she is a total momma’s girl !!!! all the way

you and her are best friends, your daughter is so obsssed and attached to you

but nikolai get its ofc

“of course you’re obsessed with you mom, she’s the most incredible woman i know. no you don’t count yet you’re still a little girl.”

you two are his best girls.

cherishes the two of you more than anything

his entire desk is filled with photos of the three of you

nikolai as a dad is absolutely perfect

he was made to be a girl dad who are we kidding?

taglist;

@buckystarlight @bookishcrows @kazsimp @vintagebitc @obiwansjedi @thegirlwiththeimpala @hybrid-in-progress @mrs-brekker15 @mrsbrekkers @simplyluvzuko @ode-to-joy @gallysonegoodlung @sixofshadowandbone @castielcouldbeasecretdentist @amourslover @caaarstairs @the-jess-life @xsamsharons @heavenlymidnights @tinyfwoggie @the-abyss-gazed-back @subjecta13-thefangirl @ughgclden @brekker-andhiswraith @ilovemarvelanne1 @lostinketterdam @anything-forourmoony @treasureofmy-heart

if your name is in bold if means i couldnt tag you! please message me to be added to my taglist <3

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov x y/n #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov imagine #grisha #grishaverse #six of crows imagine #six of crows #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone #nikolai lantsov fluff #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #nikolai lantsov headcanon

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mythiccheroacademia · 4 years

Text

Delivery HCs with 1-A’s Big Three

A/N: Maybe I’m a bit biased because I want to be a pediatrician when I’m older, but I think children are the true gems of the world. I’ve seen a few deliveries in my life, and it’s a moment that not even magic can explain. I can only imagine what it’s like for the parents--to see the baby you’d start a war for if need be. So, here’s my attempt to translate that special love within a headcanon.

Enjoy and continue to stay safe honey bunnies

Also, remember to thank a (good) mother for being literal superheroes once in awhile. Delivering is no joke!

Warnings: all the wonderful things that come with pushing a baby out of a 3-4in hole

All characters are aged 18+

Midoryia Izuku:

when you and your husband got to the hospital, the nurses were suprised to find you laughing and your husband muttering

they soon came to find out he was reciting how to books about delivery

word-for-word

the buff, muscley, #1 hero who scared villains into a crime rate of 2% was wiggling his knees in fear every time you had a contraction

he was running around, calling his friends and family about how he was going to combust

asked you every five minutes if you were ready to push

“izu, honey, i don’t think it works like that”

“true....but are you ready?”

it was funny

but it stopped being funny after 14 hours of labor, when the contractions got really bad

now you were just snapping at izuku to quiet down otherwise you’d united states smash his face in

him: 😧

the nurses: 👀

he knows you’re in pain but damn

it’s a relief when you get the epidural

after that, it was a relatively smooth birth

it still hurt like hell, but your husband is holding your hand, giving you encouraging kisses

one final push and the baby is out

immediately, the little boy is screaming his head off making his presence known

you let your head fall back with a relieved sigh as your body works to get the placenta out

whiles you do tiny pushes, izuku is in a love-struck daze as he stares at your son

it’s like he has tunnel vision

suddenly, nothing in his life was ever more important than this tiny little human who couldn’t weigh more than his left hand

the nurses hand you your son and you laugh through your happy tears

“it looks like i’ve got two cry-babies to deal with now” you lovingly smile

izuku is on his knees, sobbing, kissing your forehead and rubbing his finger against his child’s cheek

he’s so thankful

he’s so very thankful, he doesn’t even know how to comprehend it

you’re the best hero in his eyes

“he’s so beautiful” he repeats, like a broken record

there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you or his son

he silently makes an oath to do everything in his power to see his family smile with security every day

izuku feels like he finally knows what being #1 truly is

Bakugo Katsuki:

pregnancy wasn’t easy for you

having twins wasn’t rare, but it made the process riskier

giving birth is still quite dangerous, like women are superheroes bruh

due to forseen complications, you were scheduled for a c-section

unfortunately, you’re blood pressure sky-rocketed and you had to deliver your babies two weeks early

on the way to the hospital, your contractions were tearing you apart

during each shake and scream you gave, katsuki would hold your shoulder and let you dig your nails into his arms

he took it without complaint

it was like you were a different person when a contraction hit

you never complained about the pain, but he could tell you wanted it to end with how your head would fall like dead weight

never admits to the few tears that slipped past his cheeks

he never wanted to see you like this again

when you make it to the hospital, they wheel you into the surgery room and he follows after

is relieved to see that you can no longer feel the contractions

in fact, even with all the IVs in you, you seem a lot better--more alert

he makes his way over to you

“sorry for the car ride. i think i drooled. i probably looked gross. still do” you joke

he speaks in the softest voice you’ve ever heard, kiss your dry lips

“no baby, you look beauitful”

and he means it

you do. you’re the most beautiful woman he knows

you feel a lot of pressure as they take the babies out, but once they do, the sounds of your children make you tear up

bakugo is frozen as he watches his babies, one boy one girl, get cleaned up

there’s a softness in the air as the nurses lay the boy on your chest and the girl in katsuki’s arms

your heart explodes with so much love that the heart monitor does a little jump that makes everyone laugh

but katsuki makes a pained expression before lowering himself so that his forehead rests beside your ear

he can’t tell what he’s feeling bc he’s felt love before but this was different

this was so overwhelming that it sent his knees buckling

you use your free hand to smooth down his hair as he cries

“thank you” is all he’s able to say until the tears are gone

Todoroki Shouto:

when shouto looks back on one of the happiest days of his life, all he feels is shame and embarrassment

he was just doing everything wrong that day

no thoughts, head empty

of course you had to go into labor the day he decided to take a tiny job 30 fucking minutes away from the hospital

he made it to you in 20, he broke several laws to do it

when he gets to the hosptial, he can barely talk

the nurses had to call you to make sure this crazy man was actually the father of your child

misses the baby floor twice

walks into the wrong room three times bc he forgot how to read

when he finally makes it to your room, he’s fed up with himself

“what took you so long? the front desk called me, like, ten minutes ago”

“i don’t wanna talk about it”

“are you having an attitude with me right now? when i’m about to deliver your child?”

shouto: ☹️

shutting up was the smartest thing he did that day

when the 15th hour of labor hit and you were gripping your husband, screaming and rocking on your knees for any type of relief, todoroki was nearly begging you to take the drugs

“sweetheart, please consider the epidural”

“no, shouto. i’m doing this without one”

“why do you want to suffer when technology and modern medicine--”

“todoroki shouto, you give me one more lesson about modern medicine and i’ll rip your quirk right out of you”

“i dont think that’s--”

the nurse finally chimes in: “sir, i mean this in the nicest way possible. shut up”

after 24 grueling hours, you’re pushing

it’s taking everything within shouto not to pass out from the blood, the screaming, and how tight you’re squeezing his hand

the baby is out and crying her little head off

you’re happy it’s all over and shouto should be too

but he’s going over the past 48hrs and letting it confirm how he’s just not set up to be a father

he’s almost grateful that you would hold her first bc he doesnt want to screw up more than he already has, but you have a different idea

understanding the emotions and self-doubt reflected on his face, you say

“shouto, i want you to hold her first”

he’s shocked and starts his stuttering, but the nurse is already on it

“you heard mama, open your arms big guy”

once the nurse helps him find a good hold, todoroki doesnt even notice the tears falling down his cheeks

“look at you,” you sniff. “you’re a natural”

his eyes are wide with child-like wonder and he manages to give you a trembling smile

“you think so?” you nod and he’s smiling so big, you wanna take a picture. “she’s so beautiful, just like her mother”

he leans down to kiss you

wonders what he did in his past life to deserve the love he was given the chance to feel today

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sequinsmile-x · 8 months

Text

Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Sixty

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

-x-

Hi friends,

As ever, thank you so so much for your love on this fic. It means so much.

I cannot believe we are at 60 chapters on this fic!! It's truly mindblowing, and I am so so grateful you are all still here for the ride. As I always say, I love this version of them and have a lot of plans for them - so as long as you are still enjoying it, I'll still write it! This chapter also brings us to the 200k words mark for this fic!!

Since we are celebrating two milestones with this chapter...it's a bit of a special one, loosely based on a Castle episode.

I look forward to the yelling.

As always, please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 6.3k

A full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily curses under her breath as she rushes around the kitchen, grabs her phone and shoves it into her pocket.

She was running late.

Her team had been called in to scout out an abandoned building that was thought to be the base of an unsub who had sent bomb threats to several politicians. It was rare for her to leave for work before Aaron and it had disrupted their morning routine, making her feel off-kilter. Aaron had taken over with Lily that morning, right down to feeding her to give her time to get ready. It meant Emily hadn’t nursed her little girl like she usually did first thing in the morning, something that she liked to do, the quiet time that was often just her and Lily precious to her.

Emily pats herself down, ensuring she has everything she needs, and she winces as she swallows down a gulp of far too hot coffee. She walks out into the hallway and feels herself calm down the moment she sees Aaron standing there, Lily on his hip and a muslin thrown over his shoulder to protect his suit because Lily had only just had her breakfast. The little girl had a knack for spitting up on their work clothes more than she did on anything else they wore, Aaron always joked it was their daughter’s way of protesting them going to work.

“Look princess,” Aaron says, tickling Lily’s belly to pull a laugh out of her, smiling when the sweet sound does what he’d hoped for and eases some of the tension in Emily’s shoulders, “Mommy is all ready to go.”

She smiles and walks over, pressing a kiss to Aaron’s cheek, “I used to be able to get ready so much quicker than this.”

“To be fair, sweetheart,” he says, adjusting his hold on Lily so he can wrap an arm around Emily and pull her closer, allowing himself to enjoy a moment with both of his girls in his arms, “You never used to have to feed a baby or pump before you left the house in the morning.”

She hums in agreement and reaches over to cup Lily’s head, running her fingers through the baby’s soft hair.

“That is true sweet girl, I used to be much more punctual before you,” she leans forward and kisses Lily’s cheek, smiling when she giggles again, “Good thing you’re the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” she looks at her watch and groans, “I need to go, my boss hates me enough as it is.”

“Carson doesn’t hate you, Em,” Aaron replies, smiling wryly at his wife.

“Well, he doesn’t like me as much as my old boss did,” she says, raising her eyebrow and smirking at him. He narrows his eyes playfully.

“Considering you married your last boss I should hope he doesn’t.”

She chuckles and leans in to kiss Lily’s forehead, “Mommy loves you, baby,” she says, pulling away again, “I’ll see you later.”

Aaron smiles at her and raises his eyebrow, “What about me?”

She winks at him and kisses his cheek, “Mommy loves you too,” she jokes and he grimaces, making her laugh again and she stamps a kiss against his lips, “Love you, honey.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

She pulls away and grabs her bag from the floor, smiling as she turns back to look at them, “See you later.”

He waves goodbye, smiling when Lily does the same, and turns his attention back to her when the door closes.

“Well, Lily-Pad, looks like it’s just the two of us. And it’s almost time for you to go to daycare.” He says, and Lily spits up, in response, managing to narrowly miss the muslin on his shoulder, staining his suit jacket. He sighs and starts to walk upstairs, “Okay, change of clothes first, then daycare.”

___

“Nice for you to join us, Prentiss.”

Emily forces a smile onto her face as she walks over to her team, her bosses clipped words in the air around them, an attempt to embarrass her that she won’t let him have. She comes to a stop when she’s level with them all, “Sorry, sir.”

Peter Carson raises his eyebrow at her but doesn’t say anything else as he starts to address the team as a whole, “We need to check every floor. Bomb squad has done a sweep already and did not find any devices. Pair off to make it quicker,” he looks at Emily and then the man on her left, “Connors, you’re with Prentiss. Show her the ropes. You guys take the fourth floor.”

Emily clenches her teeth to stop herself from saying anything until he’s out of earshot, flanked by other members of the team as they start to walk into the building. Once Carson is out of earshot she rolls her eyes.

“Show her the ropes,” she mutters under her breath, “I’ve been in the FBI since I was 24. I think I can handle a building sweep,” she hears a chuckle next to her and narrows her eyes at him. Steve Connors was the closest thing she had to a friend in the counterterrorism unit. He was old school, and had been around for so long everyone always joked he was like part of the furniture. He reminded her of Dave, and it was always nice to have someone on her side. “What’s so funny Connors?”

He shrugs at her, “I’ve told you before, Prentiss,” he says, “You’re still the new kid on the team. He’ll let up eventually.”

“I’ve been here four months,” she grumbles as they enter the building, ‘When do I stop being the new kid?”

They walk up the stairs to the second floor, their footsteps loud on the metal steps, echoing around them in the otherwise silent building, “As soon as someone else joins the team.”

She huffs out a breath and shakes her head as he opens the door for her and lets her in ahead of him, “Excellent,” she replies sarcastically, looking back over her shoulder at him as she walks further into the room, “So I have to deal with this until you retire or die of old age at your desk.”

His response is cut off as she takes a step and a loud click rings throughout the room. It echoes, bouncing off the bare walls, seemingly taunting them as it makes its way back to them, louder than it had been before. She looks at the ground beneath her and sees that the floorboards are new, a fresh patch of wood in comparison to the rest of it, stark and bright against the rest of the grimy and partially rotten floor.

“What the hell was that-”

“Don’t come any closer,” she says, cutting him off, desperately staying as still as she can, her body tight as she tries not to move, “I…I think I’m standing on a pressure plate.”

Steve’s eyes go wide as he looks at her, his eyes drifting back down to the floor, “You’re standing on a bomb.”

She swallows thickly, her breath shaky as she replies, not even daring to nod her head, worried that the slightest movement could set off the explosives beneath her feet.

“Yeah,” she replies, “I’m standing on a bomb.”

___

Aaron rolls his neck as he moves another completed case file from the ‘to-do’ pile to the ‘completed’ one. He hated paperwork just as much as everyone else, but he was grateful for it when it meant he wasn’t away on a case, when it meant he’d be able to go home to his wife and daughter instead of to an empty hotel room in the middle of nowhere.

He smiles when he looks at the pictures he has on his desk, a double frame with a picture of him, Emily and Jack on the day they got married, his palm on Emily’s bump as they all smile at the camera. The second picture is from the day they brought Lily home, a selfie he had taken of him, his wife and his little girl. He can see the exhaustion in his own eyes, a moment in time when he’d felt so many different emotions all at once trapped behind glass. The overwhelming love clear in the way his cheek was pressed against Emily’s, the way his palm was gently placed on a newborn Lily’s back. He can also see the desperation in it, the way he was still reeling from how he could have lost one or both of them.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts by a knock on his office door, and he smiles tightly as he looks up to see Chief Strauss standing there. She smiles, a nervous edge to it as she walks into his office and closes the door behind her.

“Chief Strauss,” he says curiously, standing up and abandoning his pen on the desk, “How can I help?”

She clears her throat as she folds her hands in front of her, “The BAU has been asked to assist another unit with an urgent case,” she says, pressing her lips together before she continues, as if she’s choosing her words carefully, “I’ve asked Agent Morgan to brief the rest of the team.”

He frowns, his curiosity turning into concern, an edge of irritation wrapped around it at the realisation she’s asked Derek to lead the case, “Why is Morgan in charge?”

She sighs and steps closer, “The unit in question is the Counterterrorism unit,” she says, a hint of kindness in her voice that seems misplaced, only making him more anxious, “An agent stood on what they thought was a pressure plate. It’s just been confirmed they are standing on enough C4 to take out the entire building.”

“How the hell did that happen? Didn’t they sweep the damn building?”

She places her hands on her hips and nods, “They did, but Carson didn’t wait for them to finish. I have it on good authority he assured the team it was clear before he sent them in.”

He feels himself shutting down. Anger and fear making him nauseous as they fill his chest, corrupting his lungs as he tries and fails to heave in a breath. The pictures on his desk almost taunting him out of the corner of his eye as he tenses, his heart dropping into his stomach as he asks a question he already knows the answer to.

“Who’s the agent?” He asks, his voice tight as he stares at her, his gaze unrelenting. She doesn’t answer, doesn’t say anything, and he feels himself losing whatever grip he has left on his control, “Erin,” he says, making a point of using her first name, a blatant mix of insubordination and attempting to reach her on a personal level, “Who’s the agent?”

She closes her eyes and nods, “It’s Emily.”

He’s already moving, stepping out from behind his desk before she can stop him. He’s out in the bullpen already by the time she does, the way she shouts his surname echoing around the usually bustling office.

“She is my wife,” he says, ignoring how the team are looking at him from the conference room, their gazes burning even through the glass “You can’t expect me to just…sit here and wait for news.”

She sighs and nods, “I know I can’t,” she says, and he takes it as a green light, turning around again before she carries on, “Aaron,” she adds, and he looks at her, his body practically vibrating with everything he is feeling and she clears her throat, “Just don’t do anything that will mean I have to fire you, okay?”

He swears he sees a flicker of a smile go across her face, but he doesn’t have time to analyse it, already on the move as he replies.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

___

Aaron doesn’t remember a single second of the journey to the site.

He’s out of the car in seconds after it’s parked, his badge in his hands to flash at the cops on the barricade, the combination of it and the glare on his face enough to get him through.

He feels fury burning in his blood the moment he sees Peter Carson. He’s walking over before he can stop himself, throwing off any attempts from Derek or Dave to stop him, and he’s got his hand wrapped up in Peter’s jacket as he pushes him up against a wall before he can think about what he’s doing.

“Hotchner,” Peter says, his eyes slightly wide as he tries to pull himself out of Aaron’s grasp, unable to do so as Aaron tightens his grip, “Don’t do anything stupid.”

He clenches his teeth, “Don’t do anything stupid?” He seethes, anger he’d never felt before taking over, the bitter taste of a man he once swore he’d never be on the tip of his tongue. ] “Like send my team into a building before I was sure it was clear of explosives.”

“The bomb squad-”

“They told you they had one more floor to check,” he says, his grip on the other man’s jacket so tight he thinks he might rip the material, “And you sent them in there anyway. If anything happens to her, if she has a single scratch on her, I will destroy you.”

He lets go, letting Peter fall to the floor as he walks away without saying anything else, ignoring the looks on the other agent’s faces. He’s stopped as he’s about to enter the building, a member of the bomb squad placing his hand on his chest to prevent him from going any further.

“Agent, I’m sorry but no one else-”

“That’s my wife in there,” Aaron says, cutting him off, “I’m going in with or without your help.”

The air is tense as the agent in front of him looks to his superior, but Aaron watches as the men exchange a small nod. He has a Kevlar vest pressed into his hands, something he knows wouldn’t help him if the bomb went off, and he nods, pulling it over his head as he walks into the building, determination in every step.

He takes the steps two at a time, desperate to see Emily, to help in whatever way he can. As soon as he’s on the second floor he gives himself a moment to gather himself, to pull himself together. He knew she was strong, it was one of the many things he loved about her, but he also knew if he walked in, worry etched on his face, she’d start to crack. She often said he’d crawled underneath her walls, that he’d cracked her impenetrable armour from the inside out. He had to keep it together for her.

He could fall apart later, when she was home and safe with their little girl in her arms.

He blows out a breath and steps into the room. He smiles in a way he hopes is encouraging when she looks up at him, confusion and panic flashing through her eyes.

“Aaron,” she chokes out, clenching her fists by her side, her nails digging into her palms as she reminds herself that she couldn’t rush over to him like she wants to, “What are you doing here?”

He steps closer, but is stopped by a man in the room he hadn’t seen when he walked in, his hand on his shoulder, “You can’t get any closer, sir,” he says, pointing at the circle on the ground, drawn around where Emily was standing and the surrounding area, “The pressure plate can be triggered within that space.”

He nods, clenching his teeth as he tries to suppress the anger, his jaw so tight he thinks it could break. He looks back over at his wife and forces a soft smile, desperate to act like this was normal, like she wasn’t standing on a bomb big enough to kill them both and everyone in the surrounding area.

“Strauss told me what happened, I had to come see you,” he says, “What kind of husband would I be if I didn’t come to check on my wife who is standing on a bomb?”

She glares at him, his attempt at humour falling flat as she feels her heart break in her chest, “Aaron-”

“You would have come too,” he says, cutting over her protest, “If it was the other way around, you would be standing right here.”

She sighs, knowing that he’s right. She would have done exactly what he has and she can’t deny it, “It’s stupid.”

He chuckles slightly, the sound rough and painful as it tears its way past his ribs, “I never said it was smart,” he replies, and she smiles at him. The moment fades, the seriousness of the situation washing over them again, “What's the situation with the bomb?”

“The bomb squad are trying to disarm it,” she says, blowing out a slow breath, “But it’s complicated and… there's a timer. It’s got…” she drifts off, unable to remember how much time was left, her mind hazy with fear she was refusing to feel, and thoughts about never seeing her daughter again that she was not going to entertain.

“Two hours and ten minutes left,” the man in the corner of the room answers and Emily nods in thanks.

“Yeah, two hours and ten minutes,” she says, her eyes boring into Aaron’s, “So if they can’t figure it out in time…it will still blow up no matter how still I stand on it.”

“It won’t come to that,” he says, sounding more sure than he feels, “And if it gets close we’ll-”

“What? Replace me with a giant bag of gold coins?” She asks incredulously, her eyebrow raised as she looks at him, “This isn’t a movie Aaron. If I move I…If I move, I die. So does anyone else thats too close.”

Her words hang heavy in the air around them, cloying and suffocating as they try to breathe, the implications of what this could mean too much to bear.

“Like I said,” he says eventually, “It won’t come to that.”

They mostly stand there in silence, long stretches of deadly quiet occasionally interspersed by one of them making an occasional comment. He doesn’t sit, even though he could, because he wants to show solidarity, provide physical support even though he can’t hug her like he wants to.

Time moves slowly, the seconds agonising as she feels every muscle in her body burn from standing still for so long. Her legs are stiff, sore and aching in a way she didn’t know was possible and she groans, clenching her fists at her side again in an attempt to distract herself.

“How are you feeling?” Aaron asks, and she looks at him, her glare sharp as their eyes meet, and he clears his throat, “Physically I mean.”

“Like I’ve done a triathlon or something,” she replies, “My entire body aches. Especially my feet.”

“When we get home I’ll give you a massage,” he says, “And run you a bath with all your favourite-”

She knows he doesn’t deserve it, that he’s just trying to help, but his relentless optimism, a defence mechanism she knows is his attempt at keeping himself together, is starting to grate on her. She could feel every one of her nerve endings starting to fray, and it was easier to be angry at him than at the situation, because he’d forgive her.

Whether she survived or not.

“Aaron,” she says, cutting him off, “Just stop it. I might not make it home.”

“Em,” he replies, as if physically wounded, taking a step back from her, “Don’t say that-”

“It’s true,” she says, pressing her lips together, the look on his face enough to break her heart in two, “It’s true and we need to talk about it,” she waits until he nods, a subtle thing that seems to knock down the rest of his defences, his shoulders sagging as if they had the weight of the world on them, “I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything.”

She can’t help but smile at the lack of hesitation, as the promise escapes without him consciously meaning it to, his love for her as natural to him as breathing, “If…if we get too close to the countdown you have to leave.”

He frowns and he shakes his head, his chest constricting as he attempts to refuse a request from her, something he had rarely done, “Em, no-”

“Lily will need one of us,” she says, her words a physical blow. She knows it’s mean, that it’s playing dirty, but it’s also true. The mention of her daughter makes tears press at the back of her eyes for the first time since she’d walked into the building, the thought of never seeing her daughter again, of Lily growing up without her, enough to break her, “She can’t lose us both. Jack needs you too and…” she drifts off, a tear breaking free and sliding down her cheek. She can’t move to wipe it away so she lets it burn a track in her skin, leaving behind a mark she’s sure will be permanent, “You have to promise me.”

He hates it, hates that she’s asking this of him, that she wants him to walk away and leave her behind if the worst comes to the worst, but he knows she’s right. That it would be selfish for him to stay behind, to die with her, when he has the chance to walk away and be with their children.

“Okay,” he says, the word bitter on his tongue as he promises her, the relief on her face enough to make him want to cry himself, “Okay, I promise.”

___

He wants to take it back.

As the deadline for the bomb gets closer, he wants to take his promise back, the thought of leaving her here enough to tear him apart. The silence around them is loud, and overbearing, and he hates that this could be the last time he sees her, that his final moments with the woman he loves would be spent uselessly standing away from her, unable to provide any kind of comfort.

“There are 15 minutes left,” the man in the corner says, “They are clearing the block. The squad trying to disarm the bomb will be here until the last possible second.”

“Aaron,” Emily says, her breath shaky as she says his name, “It’s time to-”

“No.”

She sighs, tears spilling down her cheeks again, “You promised.”

He clenches his teeth and closes his eyes before he turns to look at the man behind him, “Can we have a couple of minutes alone please?”

He nods and leaves them alone, standing just on the other side of the door, an apologetic look on his face that tears through them both.

“How am I supposed to just walk away, Em?” He asks, pleading with her, “How do I just…leave you here to die?”

She doesn’t have an answer, because she knows if their positions were swapped and he’d asked the impossible of her she’d struggle too. Their love for each other keeping them tethered together, a connection they’d sworn to never break.

“Please tell Lily about me,” she says, ignoring his question on purpose, knowing she’d never answer in a way that would help, “And tell her that I love her so-”

“Emily,” he says, cutting over her, “Please, don’t-”

“And tell her that I’m sorry, that being her mom was the best thing I ever did with my life and that more than anything I wished I could have stayed,” her chest aches with the sobs she keeps trapped in it, terrified that if she let herself breakdown in the way she needed to she’d move, her body carrying itself forward towards him by some kind of instinct. She can’t stop the tears though, streaming down her face and making her cheeks and neck sticky as they run over tried tracks, “And tell Jack too, make sure he knows I love him just as much as I love her.”

He clenches his teeth, angry at his wife in a way he hadn’t been before, the anger easier to feel than the preemptive grief climbing up his chest, his words rough as they tear themselves up his throat. “I’ll tell her. She’ll always know what an amazing mother she has.”

“I love you so much,” she says, pressing her lips together as a laugh she can’t contain slips free, the sound as absurd as it was inappropriate, “I love you so much it makes me feel like I’m crazy sometimes, like I’ve turned into one of those women in the romance novels I hate. But I wouldn’t change a thing,” she smiles wryly, “Except maybe the stepping on a bomb thing.”

He laughs, and it hurts, catching on a sob that had gathered around his ribs, “I love you too. More than I can say. I…” he drifts off, shaking his head at himself as he struggles to find the words, “You’re the love of my life Emily Hotchner. And my best friend.”

She smiles shakily at him, “You’re mine too. You’re everything,” she looks past him at the guard they’d had looking at them through the window and she sighs, “You’ve got to go.”

It goes against every instinct in him, forcing him to fight himself as he nods, “I love you,” he says again, wanting to make sure it was the last thing he said to her, that she would remember it.

“I love you too,” she says, smiling at him before he turns away, looking back at her as he walks out of the room, his smile tight and unnatural before he disappears from view. She blows out a shaky breath and feels more tears burn down her cheeks, “I’m sorry.”

Her apology echoes around the empty room around her, bouncing around the space as she tries to figure out who it’s for.

___

The moment he steps outside he sees the team. Derek rushes over to him, his brow creased as he makes it to his side.

“Hotch, where is she?”

He nods over his shoulder, “She’s in there, she made me leave-”

“We got the unsub,” Derek says cutting over him, his words filling Aaron’s chest with something close to hope for the first time in hours, “We got the plans for the bomb too, Garcia sent them to the bomb squad.”

“How long will it take?” Aaron insists, the thought of being able to save her but not having enough time almost worse than not being able to do anything at all.

“How long have we got?” Derek asks, looking back and forth between Aaron and the building behind him. Aaron checks his phone, the countdown he’d put on there staring back at him.

“Ten minutes.”

Derek nods, “Then I guess it will take ten minutes.”

Time moves like syrup as they wait for the bomb squad to get in touch, and Aaron can’t help but pace back and forth, impatience and anxiety forcing him to move. If he stood still, if he stopped even for a second, he’d run back into the building to be with her, breaking his final promise to her.

He freezes when he hears the crackle over the handset in Derek’s belt, his whole world narrowing down to the voice he’d never heard before, “We’ve got it. The bomb is disarmed.”

Aaron feels his body sag, relief making him briefly lose his footing, “It’s done?”

“It’s done.”

___

Emily blows out a steady breath as she closes her eyes, counting down seconds, her chest stuttering every time she tries to suck in air.

She wonders if in another situation, in another world, if she’d find some kind of peace in this, but she can’t. The thought of everything she was leaving behind, everything she was going to lose, was too much to bear. She’d spent so much of her life alone, so many years purposely not making connections with people because they hurt too much. People had always let her down in the end until she fell in love with Aaron, his loyalty something she still wasn’t quite sure she deserved.

She jumps when she hears a loud noise, her body getting briefly tense as she realises she’s moved, and she opens her eyes, her breath catching in her chest when her gaze lands on her husband.

“Aaron?” She asks, fury burning at her insides, anger that he broke his promise and made this the last thing he would do for her flowing through her, “What are you-”

“They disarmed the bomb,” he says, cutting over her anger. He suppresses a smile as she frowns at him, her eyebrows creasing together as she shakes her head.

“What?” She stutters, staring at the ground, the place she’d stood for hours, “No. They said…”

He walks towards her, crossing over the line that had been drawn around her and he stands just in front of her. He reaches out and touches her cheek, revelling in the ability to do so after thinking he’d touched her for the last time.

“Sweetheart,” he says, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers, “It’s over.”

She collapses into him, her legs giving out as she wraps her arms around him and lets her take her weight. She sobs with relief, her face pressed into his neck as she squeezes him tighter than she thought she’d be able to.

“It’s over,” she sobs, her words muffled against his skin as she grasps at his shirt, needing to touch as much of him as possible, “It’s over.”

He kisses the top of her head as she continues to repeat the words to herself, as if she still doesn’t quite believe them. He lets her take all the time she needs, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back as he enjoys holding her close, his lips against her forehead.

“Can we go home?” She asks eventually, her voice quiet and gravelly, everything she hadn’t allowed herself to feel all day finally set free, “I really want to see Lily and just…I need to see her.”

“Of course,” he says, pulling back to look at her, stamping a kiss to her lips that has an edge of desperation to it, “We’ll go home,” he takes a step back and she stumbles, her legs unsteady, and he wraps his arm around her waist, “Do you need me to carry you?”

“If you try I’ll kill you,” she grumbles and he laughs, kissing her temple as he lets her lean on him, most of her weight against his side.

They slowly make it outside and he feels his wife tense against him as the others all rush over. She’s overwhelmed, sensitive to the bright sun after being trapped inside for most of the day, and sore, her entire body aching like she’d been in a fight. He doesn’t step away from her, both because he doesn’t want to and because he knows she wants him to stay, so he gets caught up in the hugs that she’s pulled into.

“I’m so glad you’re okay, princess,” Derek says, wrapping an arm around her quickly, “I know I said I missed working with you, but I didn’t mean I miss saving your ass.”

“Thanks, Derek,” she replies, smiling tightly at him as he pulls back, “Trust me, I haven’t missed that part of it either.”

“Garcia mentioned going for drinks,” Spencer says, stepping closer to the group, “She said it’s tradition.”

Emily laughs tightly and she shakes her head, “I just need to go home,” she says, not missing the disappointment on their faces, “I want to see Lily and just…lay down quite honestly.”

JJ is the first to nod understandingly and she hugs her friend, “I’ll run interference with Pen and make sure she doesn’t call you a thousand times,” she says, squeezing Emily’s shoulder as she pulls back, “I know how insistent she can get.”

Emily smiles and nods, “Thank you,” she looks up at Aaron and she squeezes his hip, “Can we go?”

He nods and pulls her closer, “Let’s go home.”

___

Emily sighs as she settles into bed, her muscles more relaxed now she’d had a bath. Aaron had, as promised, done it for her - all of her favourite salts in the water to help soothe her sore body. He’d sat on the edge of the tub to keep her company, sensing without her needing to tell him that she didn’t want to be alone.

She knew it would take a long time for her to process what had happened today, how she’d come so close to dying, to accepting that she was going to die. The thought of leaving Aaron, Lily and Jack behind had been enough to break her, and now it hadn't happened, now she’d survived, it felt all the more awful to think about.

Jack would have had some memories of her, moments of their time together attached to things she’d bought him and events. Hazy pictures brought to life by stories Aaron would tell him once it was no longer too painful to talk about. Lily wouldn’t have remembered her at all. It’s the thought she can’t get away from - that she could have died today and her daughter wouldn’t remember how much she loved her, or the sound of her voice. The warm touch of her skin against hers as she comforted her when she was sick or sad.

It makes her wonder if she’s doing it all wrong, if the changes she’s made to avoid becoming her own mother were radical enough. She had no need to work financially, but she still chose to. She wanted her children to be proud of her, to know she had done something that made a difference, but if they hadn’t been lucky today, all Lily would know as she got old enough to understand was that Emily had made a choice to put herself in that position.

She blows out a steady breath and wipes tears from her cheeks, shaking her head at herself as if to physically get rid of those thoughts. She looks up as the bedroom door opens and she smiles at her husband and their daughter, the little girl dressed in her pjyamas and happily sitting on her father’s hip.

It was strange to think it was just this morning she’d seen them like this. It felt like a lifetime ago, the time that had passed whilst her daughter happily played in daycare some of the longest hours of her life.

“Here she is,” Aaron says, walking over and handing Lily to her, the baby willingly going into her mother’s arms, “One adorable baby girl in a fresh diaper.”

“Did Daddy help you get all cleaned up,” Emily says, laying Lily against her, the weight of her daughter on her chest easing some of the residual anxiety that remained there. She smiles at her husband as he settles into bed next to them, “He helped me in the bath earlier too.”

“Helped. Observed,” he says, winking at her as he wraps his arm around her shoulders, tugging both her and Lily into his embrace, “Two sides of the same coin really.”

She chuckles lightly and rests her head against him, her eyes fixed on Lily as she watches her fall asleep, her cheek pressed against Emily’s t-shirt.

“Today was…” she drifts off as her voice catches, blowing out a breath in an attempt to calm herself down, “I don’t even know what it was.”

He feels the same way. It had been a rollercoaster of emotions and he felt like he was still on the ride doomed to go round and round again and again until he was sick. He can’t put it into words either, can’t explain the fear he’d felt, the grief he was still grappling with at having to say goodbye.

It would take a while for them to get their heads around it, to talk about what needed to be talked about, but for now he was content to sit here with her and just enjoy the fact that he could.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks, already knowing the answer, but checking anyway.

“God no, not yet,” she replies quickly, turning her head to kiss his cheek, “But soon. I promise,” she smiles softly as he rests his cheek on the top of her head, desperate to be as close to him as possible, “A little birdy told me you threatened Carson, and that you pushed him up against a wall.”

He freezes for a moment before he hums, “Does this little birdy happen to be Italian with a love for gossip that rivals Garcia?”

She smiles as she looks up at him, “Maybe,” she says, biting her lip as she tries to suppress her smile, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes I did,” he says, “If you’d…” he drifts off and holds her tighter, his heart aching as she reaches out and squeezes his hand, a gentle reminder that she was there with him, “I would have made the bastard pay.”

She cups his cheek and makes him look at her, her thumb tracing back and forth over his skin before she pulls him in for a kiss, “I love you.”

It isn’t lost on either of them that the last time she’d said it was when they were standing in a room they thought she’d die in, and it weighs heavily between them for a moment. He lets it pass, reminds himself that they are in their bed, in the home they got together, their little girl fast asleep on Emily’s chest.

“I love you too.”

-x-

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daddyloveslabor · 3 years

Text

James and Little

James stood directly in front of his Little, close enough that he could breathe in her scent, but he didn’t touch her just yet. He studied her face and her eyes. He knew them so well by this point. And this was the point. The one where his expertise of her face and eyes would alert him immediately to any signal from her, subdued or otherwise. Any misgivings whatsoever that she may have about what was about to happen to her, what was in store for her...he would see them.

She had been flawlessly obedient, always, save the small buckish provocation here and there when she desired extra correcting. And she never failed to know when *he* desired to more thoroughly correct her. She had always, truly, anticipated him at every turn.

She was perfect for him. He didn’t want to change a hair on her head, except in this one way. In this enormous, incredible way that in actuality was a thousand ways. The way that would change her irrevocably and indelibly.

He loved her precisely as she was. And it was because he loved her that he wanted to reconstruct her, just so. He throbbed with the need to observe, and then absorb, every single moment of her enduring and taking and suffering as she navigated the long transformation ahead of her. That’s what she did so, so well, after all. She endured. And she took it, everything he meted out to her, whether in tenderness or in sternness. She took it each and every time, with a grace and submission that endeared her to him harder and further every time he dominated her.

He wanted to witness every. Single. Second. As she morphed inexorably from the fruits his actions tonight would bring to bear upon her. He knew he was going to lose sleep in the months ahead, in an attempt to miss as little as possible.

Those eyes of hers. They were looking unflinchingly into his. Awaiting his encouragement and his instruction. They shone with a trust so pure and so fierce (and so devoid of shame, he realized, as his heart contracted in his chest) that the pact he had made with himself when it came to her - to protect her and cherish her at all costs - was reinforced tenfold.

He leaned in to smell her neck and she tilted back her head to give him better access. As he inhaled deeply, he ran his nose up her throat and along her jawline.

In a low growl, he said, “Mmmmm. Yes. That’s it. You’re ready for me, aren’t you?”

Head still tilted back, she replied, “Yes, Daddy. I’m always ready for you. But tonight especially.”

“Hmmm, that’s right. Your timing, as always, Little One, is fucking perfection. You smell...ripe.”

“I am. I made sure of it. I’m ready to receive.” She gave him a coy wink.

He couldn’t help but smile slightly. Her sense of humor, God damn. He would never stop thanking the Good Lord that he was given someone who would kneel down and suck him whenever he ordered...and that was funnier than anyone else he’d ever met.

When it was appropriate, of course. She never failed him in that regard either. She knew when it was time for her to shut her mouth.

“Good.” He took another long sniff along her collarbone and then backed away from her 3 paces.

He crossed his arms over his chest. She reflexively folded her arms behind her back and openly met his gaze.

Tripling down on his effort to ensure he didn’t miss even the most miniscule reflex in her eyes and her face as he spoke, he said, “The time has come, my Darling One. Tonight is the night.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You are ready, yes?”

“Indeed I am, Sir.”

“What are you ready for, Love? Say it. What happens tonight?”

She shook her hair slightly and said firmly, “Tonight is the night you knock me up.”

He frowned. “Say it better.”

“Yes, Sir. Tonight is the night you fill me up. In every way. With your love, with your cock, and with your seed. You are going to bring me near to bursting in each regard.”

“Good girl. You’re going to be the home to my baby for the next ten months, isn’t that right?”

She licked her lips. “Yes, Sir. I am honored to carry your baby.”

He saw her eyes flash. But only in that “stop fucking teasing me and get on with it” way that he had come to know and love so well.

She suffered so gorgeously.

He forced another frown. “Mmm. Say that better.”

A microscopic smile. “Very well. As you wish. Sir?”

He raised an eyebrow at her and gestured for her to continue.

“Sir, I wish for you to fuck me tonight. Hard. I want to be sore tomorrow. And as I am, I want to be reminded that that soreness is nothing, nothing compared to what is waiting for me, because tonight you are going to put your baby inside me. And I promise I will let it grow and grow and grow, making me big and uncomfortable, all while you guide me and assist me and chastise me as needed.”

James’s throat had thickened and his cock had stiffened listening to her. “Yes, Love. I’m going to make you big. So very, very big. How big do I want you to be?”

“Very,” she replied, knowing full well what he wanted her to say and drawing it out.

“How big, Sarah? How big does Daddy want you? Say it.”

“You want me so big that I can hardly walk.”

“Mmm, that’s exactly, exactly right. I want you so stuffed I’ll have to help you stand up.”

“I want that too,” she breathed.

“Of course you do. It’s in your nature. And ohhhh, Baby. My sweet, sweet girl. It’s going to hurt you.”

“Yes.”

“You’re going to take it for me, though, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

He closed in on her the 3 paces he had taken back prior. He placed his hand on her stomach.

“Oh, my Little. This flat, flat belly of yours. Once my baby has taken residence there, it’s going to start growing. And each and every day this nice flat belly is going to get a little rounder. A little heavier. A little harder.” He rubbed his thumb over her belly button and sighed with longing.

“Eventually your skin is going to be stretched so taut it will feel like a drum. It will hurt. Your belly button may pop out of your belly completely. Your back will ache more and more. Even so, as you begin to support your back with your hands, you will realize you still have weeks left to go, more pressure and strain compounding with each passing day.” He rested his hands on her waist and stroked her back with his fingers.

Moving his hands to her hip bones, he said, “Your hips will separate and throb. You will be so, so uncomfortable at night that sleeping will become difficult. Your gait will change as these hips spread out, making room to cradle my baby’s hard and heavy head deep inside the bones of your pelvis. You will have trouble getting out of bed and out of chairs. You will waddle, perhaps. And I will adore you.”

His hands slid up her sides and cupped her breasts. He worked her nipples with his thumbs and they hardened under his touch. She arched her back slightly, moving her breasts more fully into his large, warm hands. “Your breasts will become enlarged and sharply tender. I must admit to a ravenous curiosity there. How can perfection be improved upon? I will see, I am so sure.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

Both his hands moved back down. “But this belly. Oh my dear, this belly. It will be massive. When you are nearing the end, you will find yourself holding it with both of your hands, seeking a few seconds of relief from the interminable, burdensome drag of it on your body. And you, no matter how weary, will carry it until I say it’s enough time. Understood?”

Her breath had become shaky. “Yes, Daddy. I understand. I will grow your baby so well for you, and I will take whatever pain and discomfort comes with it. I want to be so huge for you.”

He could see the pinkness in her cheeks. “And you know I will see to you like never before. Isn’t that right?”

“I do, Daddy.”

“Mmm. If you are sick, Babe, I will hold your hair back for you and wipe the sweat from your face. If at first you are drained and fatigued, I shall provide you the most comfortable accommodations available, so your rest is undisturbed and restorative. When you are in your second trimester and lusty as hell, I will eat you every night and day, sucking that delicious clit of yours and giving you the sweetest orgasms of your life. I will take you from behind when you grow too big for me to take you from the front, and I will satisfy your swollen, tender, juicy pussy with my cock while I caress your giant belly. And I won’t allow you to relax; you’re going to have to hold your hefty self up on all fours until I release you.”

She sucked in her breath. “I promise; I won’t relax, no matter how tiring it is for me to support my extra weight while you plunge into me. Only when you say.”

“When your feet are aching and worn, Daddy will massage them for you, Sweetheart. When your back is killing you, Daddy will knead it and rub it and smoothe out all that tension you build up from getting bigger and bigger. Daddy will rub oil into your sweet, tight belly so your skin can stretch and stretch and stretch. Daddy will feed you when you’re hungry, all that you want, but only what’s good for you and my baby.”

“Yes, Daddy. Of course. You are so good to me.”

“I am. I will care for your aches and your hurts with more love and attention than ever before. Because you know I crave them. Yes?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“I want to know them all. Every one. No matter how minor each one may seem to you. No matter if I am sleeping or if I am away. Which I won’t be, much. They are mine to have and hold dear, and to soothe as I see fit. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir. I will keep nothing from you, nothing. I will report every twinge.”

“Good girl.” He stood back from her 3 paces again and she, once again, placed her arms behind her back dutifully.

“Sweetheart. When I am punishing you, what happens when you say our special word?”

“You stop.”

“Mmm hmm. Immediately, yes?”

“Every time. Sometimes before the word is even past my lips.”

“That’s right, Honey. You know - you have always known - that while I may correct and punish you, you have the true control over what I do to you. You have all the power of our special word in your mouth.”

“I do, Sir. And you know that I only use it when I genuinely cannot take any more.”

“Oh yes I do, my little one. I know that. But you see….well. What must happen when you are swelled so large and stretched so tight? When your little pelvis has loosened just enough, and my baby is ready to enter this world through you? What must you do? Say it.”

“I must give birth.”

“Yes. You must. Your many, long days of growing and nourishing my baby must come to an end sometime, as they have in every pregnancy before yours. And then, honey. And then...my baby must come out of you. And that, Sweetheart, is not a process I will have any say or part in. Were it up to me, I might choose to keep you knocked up and enormous and tight-bellied and awkward and hungry and aching forever. But it is not up to me. A higher authority than I will call upon you, and you will be unable to refuse Her. I will not be your Master while you culminate your greatest work, and endure your toughest punishment. Mother Nature will be your Mistress. And Mother Nature, for reasons known only to Her, chooses to punish her daughters with notorious cruelty. Do you understand?”

Sarah’s tongue flicked rapidly over her lips. Her breathing was coming in little hitches. “I understand. I will take it.”

“Yes. You will. But not from me. The power to dole out your pain and relief will be completely out of my hands this time. Your body will be taken over, Darling, by a force that is you but that is also much, much greater than you. Even if I should desire to provide you a moment’s relief, if only to see it register with you before you are wracked in agony again, I will be unable to do so. This time the power will not be mine….or yours. You will succumb to Her and only Her, the ultimate dominatrix, whether you find yourself willing and ready or not. She honors no safe words. Do you understand?”

“I understand. I will suffer.”

“Yes. Oh my dear one, you will suffer terribly. You will tense, perhaps just occasionally at first. Your giant, heaving belly will tighten again and again and again; you will lose count within just a few hours. You will strain and you will struggle. You will moan. Your throat will grow hoarse and your lips will become dry and cracked from your frantic breathing and your cries. You will writhe. Your valiant perseverance through all this will be rewarded only with more brutal and ruthless pain. The wrenchings of your heavy belly will only grow more and more excruciating, a vice that will grip you relentlessly and repeatedly. As they hurt you more, they also will grow longer and will peak harder, and you will get to the point where you will not get much of a break between them, if any at all. Time will stop for you.”

He studied her face and her eyes intensely. He saw resolve and fire. She never could resist a dare. But what he sought most urgently - and found - was the markings of her suppressed arousal.

“You take things so well from me, Honey. You know how I love to hear you beg me and plead with me, yet I can count on one hand the times you have used our special word. When you truly had taken all you could take. But my dear one, when your time comes, all the imploring you have in you will do you no good. There will be no special word. You will be well, well past the point where you thought you could take no more, and then you will be there again. And again. You will take more. She will make you. You may weep and beseech Her for mercy, and She will not only deny you, She will punish you all the harder. You will realize - perhaps 100 times - how much worse it must be before it is better. The only way out, Sweetheart, will be through.”

He reached down to adjust himself and her eyes flicked down and saw the momentary pressure he put on his bulk. He was rock hard, she could see it plainly, and she felt a response instantly, a clenching in her groin as heat pooled in her crotch.

“And Baby. For the inestimable duration of your travail, so torturous for you, all I will be able to do is watch. Watch the slow escalation as you are first so mercilessly squeezed...and then merely observe as you yourself are forced to participate in your own rending. As you anguish and push and stretch impossibly to initiate my baby into this world through your waters, your own initiation into motherhood will be by fire. The Ring of Fire, perhaps the most apt name on earth. All this will be there for me to behold, but there is no part of it I can take for you or away from you. Oh I will be there for you, Sweetness, in any capacity I am able to be. My presence, my touch, my voice, Honey….these things may offer you a paltry comfort, but make no mistake. Where you must go, I cannot follow. There will be no making it go away. There will be no making it stop. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“For my part, I must be content with being a witness only.”

He rubbed himself briefly through his pants again. With his other hand, he hooked his knuckle into the soft flesh beneath her chin bone and moved her so her eyes met his directly. “And I will glory at each fresh and unheralded wave of exquisite agony that twists and contorts your lovely face.”

Sarah puffed out a small breath between her lips. She was pulsing between her legs. God in heaven, hearing him speak to her this way was about to make her climax just standing there. She opened her stance slightly. He saw. Of course he did. He always saw. And the mischievousness of the devil himself sparked in his eyes.

She cleared her throat. “Sir?”

“Yes.”

“If I do this for you, will it - “

“Specifics, Little One. You know I despise ambiguity. If you do what for me? Say it.”

“I’m sorry, Sir. I do know that. Your pardon?”

He nodded.

“Sir, if I develop and sustain your baby in my belly for 40 long weeks, and then labor hard to push him out of me, all by myself...will it make you proud of me?”

His face almost softened. “You have no idea. Sweetheart, I will worship you.”

“Then that is merely the cherry on top, Sir. I’ve already decided.”

“Good girl. And, as discussed, unless you or my baby are in danger, the birth will take place here. I and I alone will attend to your needs. There will be no pain relief, outside of what I can provide. Say it.”

“Yes, Sir. When my appointment time with Great Mother comes -”

His head went back in a silent laugh. “By all means, continue.”

“When Great Mother calls me forth for my supreme punishment, only you will be with me. If my torment can be soothed at all, it will be by you.”

He closed the 3 paces of space between them, enveloped her in his arms, and kissed the top of her precious head. “You are the bravest creature I’ve ever met, you know.”

“I know.”

#childbirth #laborfetish #birthfetish #pregnancy #chldbirtherotica

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the-iceni-bitch · 4 years

Text

A Warm Fire

Pairing: Valkyrie/Brunnhilde/Fem-Reader

Word Count: 3876

Summary: Val helps you warm up after you get caught in a storm.

Warnings: Fluff, Spoilers for Avengers: Infinity War and Endgame (erring on the safe side with this one), Explicit language, explicit sexual content (oral sex- f receiving, scissoring, fingering) SMUT, 18+

A/N: I’ve decided for my b-day week I want to bless all you sweet bitches with a brand new smutty fic each day. My holes are worn out from all the rough himbo sex I’ve been throwing at you, so today I wanted to soften things up with something for my WLW ladies. I sub for no man, but Val could spit in my mouth and turn me into a housewife!

“Well, fuck.” You sighed.

You had hoped you’d be able to outrun the storm you saw rolling in off the coast on your weekly trip to New Asgard but hadn’t even been driving for an hour when lightning started streaking across the sky and the clouds let loose a deluge that had your ancient pickup’s wipers maxed out. You couldn’t even see 20 feet in front of you and slammed on the brakes suddenly when you came upon a massive tree blocking the road. The engine stalled out and you had now been trying to turn it over for 10 minutes with no luck.

You had thankfully been able to contact Aud and Sigurd and have them bring your animals in and batten down the barn, but there was no way you were making it back tonight. You resigned yourself to sleeping in your front seat when a pile of rocks reared out of no where and tapped on your window, causing you to let out a shriek.

“Everything ok in there?”

“Jesus Christ, Korg, what are you doing out here?”

The massive Kronan straightened back up and you thought you saw his brow furrow before his face split open in a wide grin.

“Y/N, excellent! Some of us got concerned once the storm rolled in and Val sent out a group to make sure you made it off of the Fjord ok.”

“Ok, well clearly this piece of shit is not cut out for Skagerrak storms.” You told him as you stepped out into the deluge, pulling your parka around you tightly as the wind tried to whip your hood off. “I don’t suppose you drove here in any sort of vehicle?”

“As a matter of fact, Miek drove the Jeep.”

“I’m sorry, Miek drove?” The thought of the Sakaarian larval creature driving a vehicle filled you with equal parts horror and mirth. “Do you mind if I drive us back?”

“Probably for the best. I told him that knife hands are not conducive for steering but you know he doesn’t listen to me.”

You let out a laugh as Korg lumbered into the large trailer hooked to the back of the Jeep, causing it to sink into the mud a bit. Miek scooted into the passenger seat as you turned the vehicle around and started to head back to Tønsberg.

Your cautious driving extended the trip by a good 45 minutes. The thunder had stopped but it was still pouring as you parked the jeep in one of the converted stables. Korg and Miek gave you a wave as they headed back to Thor’s, Korg carrying 3 of the pallets of Aquavit you had brought with you earlier.

You headed towards the town square and saw Brunnhilde leaning against the posts in front of her small brick house, watching the storm that was still raging out at sea before she saw you and broke out in a grin.

“Y/N, I told you not to head out in this! That piece of shit truck of yours give out on you?”

“What do you think, Hilde? I just decided to walk all the back to your house for fun in this?” You shook out your hair as the two of you stepped inside, spraying her with a thin mist of rainwater.

“Ah, you bitch! Get out of those wet clothes, I got a fire started and some dry towels and blankets set out for you. Want a hot toddy?”

You winced at the thought as you started peeling yourself out of your soaked jeans. “I’d like to be able to wake up tomorrow hon. Your hot toddys are literally just a hot mug of Aquavit with a slice of lemon.” You cursed yourself silently for introducing the Asgardians to the spicy Scandinavian liquor that you now had to truck in every week. While it was extremely lucrative, they now put it in everything.

Hilde sauntered back into the main room carrying two steaming mugs as you wrapped yourself in a wool blanket and settled in front of the fire, wearing only your bra and panties.

She rolled her eyes at you and handed you a mug, which you took a wary sniff of and were pleasantly surprised to find it was just peppermint tea.

“You’re just a lightweight.” She said as she curled up in her armchair, wrapping one hand around her mug while the other picked up the worn book that was sitting on the end table.

“How do you like it so far?” You asked her, sipping your tea slowly as you waited for it to cool.

“The writing is lovely, but it’s pretty inaccurate.”

The friendship the two of you had built over the past 3 years was something truly lovely. When she and the rest of the refugees had landed, after the snap, they were all hollow shells of grief. Thor shut himself away almost immediately, and Hilde found herself thrust into a position of leadership she had never wanted. All of them wanted nothing more than to be left alone with their sorrows, doing just enough to keep themselves alive.

The first storm off the Skaggerak had almost devastated their new home though, and when she contacted Banner for help, he called you. You still kept in touch after your years together at university, and he knew you had settled somewhere in Norway and could arrive to lend a hand faster than he could.

Your arrival brought some much needed distraction to their sleepy town. You had managed to round up a group of your Norwegian neighbors, along with some fellow expats, and set about making the necessary changes to assure that New Asgard would be a thriving community. While the rest of your group set to restructuring architecture, and teaching the town’s new inhabitants the necessities of a seaside existence on the windy Fjord, you began the slow process of helping the refugees move on from their sorrow.

Your anthropology doctorate was specialized in Norse culture, after all, and you would often bring small reminders of their lost home with you whenever you came to visit. Whether it was a collection of replicated Talharpas, Skalmejens, and Lurs to give to the children to learn music or a large cache of drinking horns to stock their taverns, every time your truck came lumbering down the hills, Brunnhilde watched the faces of her citizens light up with anticipation for some new pleasant surprise. When you arrived with your first load of Aquavit and spent the night drinking with them and singing the drinking songs they knew well, you were all but confirmed as an honorary Asgardian. Your haunting rendition of Lilja actually brought tears to a few eyes.

Brunnhilde made sure to let you know how grateful she was as much as possible. She would always have some small gift for you when you arrived, but all you asked her for was to sit and talk, discussing the history of Asgard and the nine realms as you scribbled copious notes. She loved watching your face screw up in concentration as you bent over one of your notebooks, one stubborn lock of hair falling into your face.

She laughed to herself softly now as she remembered the visit a few weeks ago when she had first introduced you to her winged steed, Aragorn. Your look of awe had been replaced quickly with uncontrollable laughter when she had told you his name. You refused to tell her what was so funny, but she was determined to get it out of you at some point.

You had brought your original copy of Snorri’s Edda the next week, and she had read it through 3 times already.

She ran her hands softly over the spine of the book before tossing back the rest of her toddy and setting the book and her mug back on the end table before sinking to the floor behind you and nuzzling herself into your hair, sighing as she inhaled the scent of fresh rain.

You leaned back into her slowly, giving a soft hum of contentedness. She slipped the blanket off of your shoulders to pool around your waist as she left a trail of soft kisses down your neck, before softly raising a bruise into your collarbone with her mouth.

The moan you gave her made her grin against your skin, and she slipped one hand into the front of your bra, softly drawing her fingers across your nipple.

“Fuck, Hilde!” you pressed your chest further into her hand as her other moved behind you to unhook your bra and slip it off your shoulders, freeing your breasts. She felt your nipples harden against her fingers as she turned your head and slowly teased your mouth open with her tongue.

“Eyes open, pretty girl.” She whispered as her left hand continued to palm at your breast and roll your nipple between her fingers. You stared at her through your lashes as she brought her right hand up and put her index and middle finger in your mouth. You gave them a soft nip before sucking and swirling your tongue around them slowly.

She grinned at you wickedly as she dragged her soaked fingers down your torso at an agonizing pace, leaving a thin trail of your saliva before she tucked them under the edge of your panties and dragged them over your sopping cunt, separating the soft folds there to tease against your entrance.

“Oh, poor baby, look how much this pussy missed me?” She said as you let out a thin keen, screwing your eyes shut and dropping your head against her neck. She slapped your tit suddenly and tweaked your nipple hard, making you gasp. “You better keep those eyes open if you want me to let you come sweetheart. You want me to stretch this pretty pussy around my fingers and make you feel good?”

“Yes, god” you let out breathlessly, forcing your eyes open as she studied your face.

“Ah, ah, ask nicely.”

“Yes please.” You hissed as her fingers continued to tease at your folds, lightly brushing against your clit.

“Good girl”

She slipped one finger inside of you slowly and you immediately clenched around it as she pressed it against that soft spongy spot.

“Ooh, honey. You’re so fucking tight, I’m gonna stretch you out so good.” She whispered against your lips as she kissed you softly.

Her second finger slipped in easily and she started fucking them into you slowly, pressing her palm against your clit as she did so and your arousal seeped all over her hand. Your breath was hitching in your chest as she increased her pace.

You felt yourself flutter around her and it took all of your willpower to not screw your eyes shut and drop against her shoulder. You ground yourself against her hand as she suddenly slowed down, hungry for more friction.

“You want me to add another finger, sweet girl?” She asked slyly, teasing her promise against your entrance.

You didn’t trust yourself to speak so you nodded at her, your chest heaving as she continued palming your breast and you felt a resounding shiver in your core.

“You’re lucky I’m soft on you sweetie, I should be making you beg for this.” She murmured as she shoved all three of her fingers in suddenly, causing you to let out a small cry as she started fucking them into you at a rough speed. “I’m just finishing you off so I can feel this sweet mouth of yours on my cunt. You want to taste me baby?”

“Shit, Hilde!” The thought of her taste on your tongue sent you over the edge as she drove her palm into your clit one last time and you released around her, fluttering as you soaked her hand. Her strong arms held you still as your orgasm wracked you and every muscle trembled. Once you had ridden it out, she drew her hand out of your ruined panties to suck on her fingers.

“Mmm, you taste so good honey. Don’t you think?” She placed her mouth on yours and pressed her tongue against yours and you moaned as you tasted your own release.

“Help me out of my clothes baby, I need to ride that pretty face.”

She climbed around you and settled into your lap, kissing you deeply and making happy little humming sounds. You drew her sweater up over her head and tossed it aside, and were pleasantly surprised to see she wasn’t wearing a bra. You gave her a wicked grin before lifting her up and pressing her chest to your face, latching your mouth to one of her nipples as your hands cupped her ass through her leggings. She gave a light laugh and tossed her head back as her fingers carded themselves through your hair. You brought one of your hands between the two of you, shoving it down the front of her leggings and drawing your fingers through her slick, making her gasp.

“God, baby, you’re so fucking greedy.” She laughed lightly as you peppered her chest with kisses, occasionally creating some light suction with your tongue to raise a light bruise. “Mmm, you know just what to do, but I want to come all over that beautiful face of yours.”

You smiled against her chest as you gently nuzzled yourself between her breasts before falling back abruptly and making her gasp.

“You are being such a trouble maker, today, Y/N. Fine, I’m going grind your pussy so good before I rub that smirk off your face with my cunt.”

She sat up between your legs a drew your soaked panties off before removing her own leggings. She stretched your right leg off to the side and lightly drew her fingers up the inside of your thigh, removing them right before she reached your quivering pussy and making you whine.

“Don’t be a brat baby. Look at this pretty pussy, just weeping for me.” She stared at your swollen cunt with a grin as she hooked a hand under your left knee and positioned herself so she was straddling you, her soft folds just kissing yours as she hovered there. “You want to feel my pussy on yours, baby? Want me to grind that clit so good? You better fucking beg for it.”

“Oh god, pleasepleaseplease…” you let out in a hiss as she pressed herself down and ground herself into you.

“Mmm, I feel that sweet pussy quivering for me. God, you’re like my own fucking vibrator.” She kept twisting her hips into yours, hitting you at that perfect angle each time and making you mewl and whimper unintelligibly as she edged you closer to your release. She unbent your right leg slowly, running her thumb up your calf before nipping at the pad of your big toe, making you arch into her. “No no, sweetheart, isn’t it so much better when you hold still? You know I’ll take care of you.”

She stretched your right leg out so you were wide open and pinned your thighs down with her hands as she picked up the pace. She bit her lip and gazed down at you through hooded eyes and you felt her core twitch against yours. One more drive of her hips and you came apart at the same time, your releases mixing together to coat the insides of your thighs. You let out a scream while she just gasped, still managing to hold you down as your pleasure wracked through you and you wound your hands into the blanket beside you for some kind of anchor.

“Fuck baby, this pussy is so good to me. I wanna run my tongue over this pretty cunt while I ride your face. You better be good for me.”

She twisted herself around to straddle your face. You softly nipped at her left cheek then gave her ass a slap, making her yelp, and she responded by smacking your pussy twice before grinding into your face.

“Oohh, are you going to be a bad girl?” She scolded you as you wrapped your arms around her thighs and teased her folds with your tongue. “Am I going to have to edge you all nigh… Fuck!!” Your tongue found her entrance and you moaned into her cunt, causing vibrations that made her clench against your face. “God, baby, you’re so good at that. Your miss this pussy so bad, look at the mess you’re making.” She separated your folds and softly blew against your clit before shoving three fingers into you with no preparation. “Mmm, you’re fucking ready for me sweetheart, I’m barely even stretching you now. You want me to add another finger?”

She gave your clit another soft slap and you came suddenly, legs and core trembling as you clenched and released around her fingers. You tried to come up for air, but Hilde just ground her hips into your face.

“Na-ah.” She scolded you. “You wanted to get fresh with me and now you better make me come if you want to breathe. You get to work. I’m going to wring every ounce of pleasure out of this pussy until you give me what I want, I don’t care if you pass out.”

She inserted a fourth finger into your canal and started to fuck them all into you, flicking soft kitten licks against your small bundle of nerves before she latched onto it, sucking hard.

Tears started streaming down your face as another orgasm ripped through you. You were starting to feel light-headed from a mixture of pleasure and oxygen deprivation. She drew her tongue slowly up and down your entrance while her fingers kept moving inside you, doing her best to lap up your release before her tongue went back to massaging your clit.

You barely skimmed your teeth against her clit and she let out a soft cry against you, slapping your pussy in response and making you come again. You shook your head to bury yourself deeper into her folds and fought off the urge to pass out before shoving your tongue into her pussy and bringing your fingers up to rub harsh circles into her tiny apex of pleasure.

She collapsed against you at the sudden change in sensation with a gasp before she rose up to really grind into you.

You started fucking your tongue in and out of her, making sure to press it against her g-spot each time and felt her thighs tense around your face.

“God baby, don’t fucking stop. Fuck, just like that, right there. That tongue of yours is so fucking good. You’re so fucking good. Feels so good.” You knew when she started babbling breathlessly like this she was close. She brought one of her hands up to palm her breast as her other gripped the wrist of the hand you had working her clit, making sure you didn’t move away.

Just as the edges of your vision started to close in, you felt her core vibrate and her cunt clenched around your tongue as her release gushed into your mouth. The only sound she made was a rapid breathless pant and she rolled off of you slowly, finally allowing you to suck in oxygen as stars swam behind your vision. You did your best to catch your breath as you felt her stretch languidly beside you before she sat up to stare at you.

“Fuck, baby. I don’t know why I let you take this pussy away from me. I know you just lay there by yourself every night dreaming of my fingers buried in you.” She slowly drew a hand along your slit and you groaned when she brushed against your overstimulated clit. “Just swollen and crying for me. Whose pussy is this baby?” She asked you, curling her fingers against your mound.

You knew if you didn’t tell her what she wanted to hear, she would wring it out of you, and if you had any more orgasms you were going to pass out. “Yours, baby.” You murmured, staring at her through your eyelashes.

“Good girl.” She patted your cunt twice, making you twitch, before she bent down and kissed you softly.

She stood up and collected your mugs and brought them back into the kitchen, wiggling her ass at you when she felt you watching her, making you laugh.

“Can you throw some more logs on the fire, Y/N? I’ll grab us some clean blankets and pillows and we can sleep out here.”

“Yes ma’am.” You called back to her, breaking the current logs apart with the poker before adding three new ones and stoking it. You gathered your discarded clothes and the soiled blanket in a bundle and headed to the bathroom to put them in the hamper and run a damp towel against your sex to clean up, bringing another out with you as you headed back to the fire, where Hilde had piled a ridiculous amount of blankets and pillows in a massive nest for the two of you.

You sank down next to her and she drew your face to hers for a kiss. You smiled against her lips as you gently drew the soft towel you had brought with you over her cunt and along her thighs to clean her off as she gave a contented sigh.

“Stay.” She said softly, nuzzling softly into your neck as you held her against her chest and slowly sank back against the pile of cushions, giving her hair a soft kiss.

“Hilde, the road is out, I’m not going anywhere until tomorrow.”

“No, Y/N. Stay. Move here with me. I need you.” She looked up at you with genuine pleading in her eyes. You had never seen such open emotion on her face before.

You only had to think about it for a minute. The weeks between your trips were always spent planning your next visit. Thinking over what you wanted to talk to Hilde about. Your bed felt empty without her there.

“I need you too baby. I love you.” You whispered to her, tipping her chin up to look into her eyes as you gave her a gentle smile.

Her face split into a grin. “Is that a yes?”

“Of course, Hilde.”

“Oh god, Y/N, I love you too!” She drew your face down to hers and kissed you deeply, clutching you to her needily before releasing you with a grin. “I miss that pussy almost as much as it misses me.”

You laughed at that and laid back with a sigh. Hilde rested her head between your breasts and brought her hands close around your sides, pulling the thick wool blanket around the two of you tightly.

“Just make sure Miek doesn’t try to fight my sheep again.” You whispered to her, running a hand softly up and down her back.

“That was a misunderstanding.” She smiled against you as her breathing slowed and deepened, and she sunk closer to sleep.

The two of you laid there intertwined for the rest of the night, drifting off as the fire crackled and died. You had never felt so content in your life.

#valkyrie x reader #wlw love #wlw #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #tessa thompson #writing

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