#still anon very sweet if you to be concerned

[machveil]

hey so I eat your Konig stuff up but if you feel up to it I BEG OF YOU to do something with my sweet(insane) princess(grown man)Krueger it can be like,general partner hcs or soemthing specific idk,I am starved for Krueger content.

I just dropped what I was doing because I need you to know anon!! I need you to know I agree, I’m famished for babygirl (soldier) Krueger

General Thoughts about Sebastian Krueger

you didn’t see me accidentally post this early

so, he’s morally ambiguous in my eyes. the Corporal has canonically killed civilians and escaped custody - do we know why? no, his past Lieutenant literally befriended him to help him get to know that team because he saw “talent in a troubled mind”

given his background, it takes a while for him to open up to you - let alone even think of dating you

he’s got a unique personality, humor that ranges on the darker side. he thinks he’s very funny, and he laughs a little harder when he sees the concerned looks he gets after cracking a joke. if you’re also one to find humor in the dark he’ll take a liking to you - someone that can match his freak lol

he’s a surprisingly light eater - he prefers to eat small meals, little portions, throughout the day something about a sensitive stomach. he doesn’t snack though, he literally just eats small meals, he’ll get a bit of protein, some carbs, vitamins. no one knows why he eats like that - no one really knows why he does what he does generally

he’ll get comfortable with you eventually though, maybe sit down with him while he eats. he can enjoy a comfortable silence. he’s not a fan of small talk, why fill the silence when you have nothing to say?

if you’re dating he’s a stoic, serious body guard for you… but he’s still got a soft spot in his heart, he’ll call you meine Prinzessin/Prinz, meine Herz, little Vogel - his Princess/Prince, his heart, little bird

he’s got a possessive streak - maybe a little unhealthy. he can come off as controlling in some aspects he is, but can you blame him? you’re his to protect, his Herz - who wouldn’t protect someone they hold dear?

[aemondsbabe]

The Gods and Everyone

summary: you and aemond sorely overestimate how much time you have before a small council meeting, which leaves the two of you in quite a scandalous predicament

pairing: aemond targaryen x reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, cockwarming, public sex, slight breeding kink, fingering, aemond being an absolute menace, dirty talk, aegon being a little shit but what else is new, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 5.6k

a/n: based on an anon request for cockwarming! i hope you're still with me and that you enjoy this, friend! sorry it took me so long to get to it!

creds to @bbygirl-aemond for the gif!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

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You watch, concerned, as your husband flits around the Small Council chamber, your eyes following his lithe form as he checks and re-checks the parchment with notes he had written for himself earlier that morning – you’d awoken in the pale hour just before sunrise to see him already hunched over the small desk in your chambers, scribbling away furiously with a quill, his pale hair glowing in the dim light of the candle next to him. All of your attempts to lure him back into bed with you had fallen on deaf ears. 

“You know you needn't do all this,” you point out, perched against the Small Council table, your eyes tracking him as he paces back and forth across the space, going over his notes for the upteenth time, “Your only job is to be on time like everyone else, husband.”

“Things will improve with time,” he rushes out, fixing you with a pointed look, “Hardly two moons have passed since Viserys…” He pauses, pinching the bridge of his nose, “The least I can do is ease this transition for Aegon and mother.”

“My love, it is a transition for us all,” you soothe, striding to him and gently taking his hand. His fingers, rough from all his years of training with swords and spears, instantly wrap around your own as he lets out a tired sigh, “You included. Aegon named you Master of War, not master of everything.” 

“I know,” Aemond murmurs, eye softening as his gaze traces over you, “I find it hard to be still when there is so much chaos – Dorne has yet to be subdued and there are whispers of rebellion from the North. There is so much still to be accounted for.”

“I understand,” you reassure him, your fingers threading through his long, silvery hair, lips quirking into a smile as the gesture makes his eye flutter closed for a second. “But all this stress cannot be good for you, husband,” you sigh, gazing up at him with a mournful smile, “You need rest and calm and…and I need you.” You nearly whisper, blush creeping across your cheeks as Aemond’s eye darkens. 

“Sweetling—“ He starts with a sigh. 

“Aemond, please,” you cut him off, wrapping your arms around his trim waist as you lay your head against his chest, his heart thumping in your ear, “I cannot bear to hear another excuse, I feel as if you have been away for weeks.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, wrapping his long, lean arms tightly around you as he rests his chin on your head, your breaths the only sound in the stony chamber. “I’m sorry,” he finally whispers, smoothing a hand up and down your back, “I miss you too, my sweet girl.” 

You hum, leaning further into his embrace after going without it for so long, “You haven’t touched me in weeks.” You say quietly, his touch already igniting a spark in the pit of your stomach. 

“Perhaps tonight,” his breath is warm against the top of your head as he speaks into your hair, “I will try to cut my meeting with–”

“You’ve been saying that for weeks,” you cut him off once more with a sigh, pulling back to look up at him, “I can’t take anymore, my love, I need to feel you.” You whine, nearly petulant like a spoiled child. If it were any other time, if you were any less desperate, you’d be embarrassed at your behavior. Right now, though, you could not find it within yourself to care as you stared into your husband’s darkened eye, finally feeling the passion you had gone so many weeks without. 

Aemond chuckles as he looks down at you, conflicted between feeling pleased to see you reduced to such a state while also feeling a similar fire in his own belly. “Sweetling, the meeting–”

“Is not due to start for at least another hour!” You interrupt, determined to persuade him to this. Taking you in various parts of the Keep was not new to him, both of you had plenty of memories from your courtship and first year of marriage of rutting together in all sorts of nooks and crannies of the old castle. 

Aemond gazes at you for a long moment, an unreadable expression on his face, though his eye remains dark with desire. After a second, he nods to himself almost imperceptibly, seeming to come to some decision you weren’t privy to. Finally, finally his lips descend upon yours as he sweeps you into an all-consuming kiss, his arms tightening around your waist as he pulls you to him, groaning lowly in his throat as he licks into your mouth. You shiver in his grasp, finally tasting him properly after so long as you whimper and whine into his mouth.

“Aemond,” you gasp as you finally part from him, mewling as he immediately trails kisses down your jaw, “What–”

“Seems I can never deny you for very long, sweetling,” he huffs, halfway laughing as he guides you over to the large table, pulling you up by the waist until you’re sitting on the cool stone table, your legs bracketing his trim waist, “I’ve missed you too, my love.” He confesses, sweeping a lock of hair from your shoulder before trailing kisses up across your neck and jaw, one hand already desperately pulling up the bottom of your gown.

You huff out small moans and whimpers, relishing his warm touch. His nimble fingers finally manage to undo the knot at the front of your smallclothes and he tugs them down quickly, leaving you bare for him under your skirts as they fall to a pile on the floor just beside his chair at the table. 

“Husband,” you pant, tugging at the drawstrings at the top of his trousers, “Please, please do not make me beg today, I–” Your train of thought is cut off as a moan, louder than it should be given the location, tears itself from your throat when you feel his long fingers ghost over your center.

“Shh, darling,” Aemond grins as he feels your arousal immediately coat his fingers, a pleased hum emanating from deep in his chest as he feels it already coating the insides of your thighs as well, “I don’t have the patience to restrain myself today, sweet one,” he mutters, watching your face carefully as he spreads your folds and teases your entrance with a finger before carefully sliding it in, groaning with satisfaction at the feel of your walls already tightly clamping down on it, “Nor the time.” He adds with a slight smirk, pale hair cascading like a curtain down his shoulders as he leans his forehead against yours. 

“Oh, Gods,” you whimper, eyes fluttering shut as your hands white knuckle the dark leather of his tunic, too uncoordinated with lust to manage the ties on his pants, “M-My love, more please!” You whisper, angling your hips to try and catch another of his fingers. 

You hear him chuckle above you before he pulls his finger from you, smirking as you whine pitifully at the loss. Before you have a chance to protest, he quickly undoes his trousers, not bothering to pull them down at all and opting to merely loosen the laces at the front enough to free his cock. Your eyes widen as you watch his hand stroke over his length momentarily, taking in the way it already throbs in his grasp, the head flushed and leaking from merely having you in his hands once more.

“Ready, sweetling?” He asks, gently tilting your chin up as he captures your lips in a sweet kiss, his other hand positioning his length at your entrance. 

You part from him and nod eagerly, widening your legs and angling your hips, “I’ve been ready for you for weeks, Aemond.” 

He smiles softly, pressing one more kiss against your neck before finally pressing into you, growling as he sinks into your slick heat. “Seven,” he grunts, cradling the back of your head with one hand as his other slinks down to grab at your hip, “You feel better every time, sweetling.”

You moan hotly against his shoulder, sinking your teeth into the thick leather of the shoulder of his tunic in an attempt to quiet yourself. Your eyes squeeze shut at the feel of him sliding into you, filling you to the brim perfectly. You’ve been without him for so long that he feels enormous, your walls aching as he stretches you out, pressing in and in until he’s finally seated fully within you. 

Without another word, Aemond started thrusting into you, slow at first but quickly picking up the pace with every firm roll of his hips into you. After only a moment, he’s already grunting like a madman into your ear, holding you to him even as you cling tightly to his shoulders yourself, your legs wrapped loosely around his waist. 

You feel a fire building in your belly at a breakneck pace as he ruts into you, the hand on your hip no doubt leaving fingerprint bruises across your skin, even through the fabric of your gown. If the low groans from your husband are any indication, he isn’t doing much better. He threads his fingers through your hair, pulling you into a desperate kiss, teeth and tongues clashing together frantically as if the two of you are trying to fall into each other, to become one. 

“My love, I—,” he pants against your lips, jerking your head back by the grip he has on your locks. His eye meets yours, the light lilac almost entirely eclipsed by his pupil as he stares at you hungrily, “It’s been so long, I don’t know how long I can last.” 

His breath is warm as it fans over your lips and you nod dazedly, zings of pleasure radiating up your spine from Aemond’s grip in your hair only adding to the warmth quickly threatening to overtake you. “It’s okay,” you swallow thickly, eyes already rolling back with pleasure, “I can’t either.” 

Nodding in return, he picks up the pace, the head of his cock rutting against the most sensitive spot within you hard enough to make you see stars. He hasn’t even needed to tease your pearl and you’re already nearly unraveling as Aemond mumbles nearly incoherent praises, the hand on your hip traveling lower, nearly cupping your ass. 

Just as you’re about to warn him of your inevitable release, muffled voices sound from behind the thick wooden doors that lead into the Small Council chambers. Aemond slows within you as both of your heads swivel to the doors — just in time to hear the guards stationed outside begin to tug them open. 

You freeze, eyes widening as the doors open, seemingly in slow motion. Thankfully, your husband moves quickly enough for the both of you, nimbly scooping you into his arms before hastily dropping down into his chair, hurriedly scooching it forward until both of your laps are hidden under the stone surface of the table, before kicking your smallclothes under the table at the last second. 

Your head whips around to face Aemond and you give him a panicked, wide-eyed look just as people start filing into the room, unaware that you’re still being split open by your husband’s length. One hand, still on your hip, tightens, silently commanding you to be still as his lilac eye pleads the same; his other hand is already poised on the table, relaxed against the cool surface as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. 

“Yes, yes, we must certainly ask him once he’s back in King’s Landing,” Lord Tyland’s voice fills the chamber as he walks in, engaged in a conversation about something or other with Lord Corlys, the two sharing a laugh before finally taking notice of you and Aemond, “Prince, princess.” Tyland bows his head at the two of you with Corlys following soon after. 

You sit frozen atop your husband, gazing blankly at the two men without a word. Thankfully, Aemond has the presence of mind to bow his head politely, though he stays quiet. As they walk further into the room, you can only see Tyland and Corlys from the corner of your eye but you don’t miss the odd look they share, silently asking each other why you were present and certainly why you were sitting on Aemond’s lap. Blood rushes to your head so quickly you feel lightheaded, your cheeks stinging as a harsh blush quickly appears on your face from their attention. 

Maester Orwyle files through the doorway next, doing a double take at you and Aemond before bowing his head, a gesture that you thankfully remember to return this time as you stiffly nod your head. Thankfully, the older man simply takes a seat at his place at the table without any comment, though you can hear the two other men speaking quietly in the corner of the room, throwing glances your way as they do. 

Your walls tighten around Aemond’s length as the rest of you tenses up when Larys creeps in, leaning against his cane as he moves; Aemond thighs tense underneath you as you hear him suck in a breath, only slightly more hasty than normal — the hand in your hip tightens, warning you to keep it together. 

“Prince Aemond, princess,” Larys nods as he approaches the table, “To what do we owe the pleasure of such… intriguing company?” He questions, tilting his head as he narrows his eyes ever so slightly, his eyes bouncing between you and Aemond. 

Your head spins as you stare straight ahead, willing yourself to respond, to say anything, to appear somehow normal. Yet, nothing comes out as your center throbs uselessly around Aemond, your head cloudy with need as your eyes stare ahead blankly, though registering just enough to pick up on the small smirk playing at the corners of Larys’s lips. 

“My wife appears to have taken ill this morning,” Aemond drawls from over your shoulder while affectionately petting your waist, a gesture entirely for show, a lie to placate the men in the room, but it comforts you nonetheless. He clears his throat before continuing, the only tell thus far that your warmth around him is affecting him at all, “My presence brings her great comfort, I see no reason why she should be without it.” 

“I see,” Larys hums in response, his dark eyes sweeping over your form, sparkling ominously as if he knows the truth, “What shame, let us hope the Gods grant you reprieve from this…illness soon, princess.” 

“Yes!” You finally squeak, snapping back to attention as Aemond just barely squeezes your side, “Yes, let’s hope so. Thank you, Lord Larys.” You breathe, managing a smile small. 

You shift on your husband’s lap and immediately you know you’ve made a mistake as the head of his cock prods directly into that overly sensitive patch within you, nearly making you topple over on the spot as a small groan escapes you. Blessedly, you have enough presence of mind to cover it up with a cough, sparks jolting down your back as Aemond presses a soft kiss to your cheek, one of his hands coming up to rub soothing circles against the back of your shoulder. 

“There, there, sweetling,” he says softly, again, entirely for show as you put on your best performance, “Once the meeting is over, we will have the servants make some tea for you, that will help with that cough.” Even if it was for show, you couldn’t help but shiver at Aemond’s low voice, at how he’s being so soft and caring with you. That, combined with the incessant prodding to your sweet spot, has you throbbing around him, your heart hammering in your chest. You can hear Aemond suck in another barely there gasp behind you, a groan low enough to remain silent rumbling against your back while at the same time his hand almost imperceptibly twitches on the table; his composure makes you feel all the more lightheaded, blushing somehow deeper at the fact that he’s taking you apart this easily without so much as moving a muscle. Your thighs trembled atop his lap, the insides already sticky with your arousal as you struggled to stay still, silently thanking the Gods that at least your laps were hidden. 

“I’m sorry,” Corlys began, striding over from his spot in the corner with a sheepish look, “I really feel I must speak up, this is really most unusual.” He finishes through an awkward laugh, Tyland following closely behind him as they saddle up to the table. 

“What is most unusual?” Alicent asks, entering the Small Council chambers with Otto, followed closely after by Aegon and Ser Criston. Her eyes sweep over the room, pausing when she sees you, though she quickly corrects herself with a soft smile. “Ah, my dear,” she nods hello to the various men in the room before sitting at the table, “May I ask why your wife joins us, Aemond?” She peers at him curiously, throwing a nervous glance at Aegon who is smirking far too much for her liking as he slinks up to the table. 

“It seems the princess has fallen ill, your grace,” Larys answers quickly, slyly smiling as he turns to face the dowager queen, “Prince Aemond insisted she stay so that she may be…comforted.” You quickly look away from him as his eyes meet yours once again, piercing through you as though he can see directly through your gown. 

“Yes, which is most odd,” Tyland butted in, throwing glances between you, Aemond, Alicent, and Aegon, “She is not a member of the council, she should not be present. Surely there is some way the princess could be comforted that does not involve being privy to government matters.”

Aemond stays silent behind you, glaring daggers at Aegon over your shoulder, watching carefully as he traipses over to the table and stands at its head, his eyes never straying from his brother’s as they stare one another down. The other members, some reluctantly, take their places at the table as well, each of them standing so long as Aegon does, though you and Aemond remain seated; your eyes never stray from the marbled surface of the table.

“Aemond, please,” Otto sighs from his place next to you, “The least you and the princess could do is stand for–”

“I see him everyday,” Aegon interjects, breaking eye contact with your husband as he rolls his eyes, “I don’t give a shit if the fool stands.”

Your eyes dart up at that, shocked that Aegon isn’t taking the chance to thoroughly humiliate Aemond by putting him on the spot. The king’s violet eyes meet yours, sparkling with a mischief that makes your center flutter around your husband’s length – Aegon’s smirk grows as if he knows exactly what just happened. A thin sheen of sweat makes you feel clammy as Aemond’s cock twitches inside of you, pushing him against your sweet spot all the more. 

“Very well,” Alicent swiftly cuts in, determined to keep the peace, “Shall we get st–”

“Are we really going to allow for the presence of–” Corlys starts, only to be viciously cut off.

“She stays,” Aegon says flatly, shooting a bored look at the man, “If anyone has an issue with the princess’s presence they may take their leave.” His violet eyes pass over the room, almost daring anyone to move. Everyone remains still, though you can feel Tyland and Corlys glaring at the side of your head, and after a moment, Aegon takes his seat followed by everyone else; blessedly, the meeting finally begins. 

The Small Council meeting drones on and on, with various conversations of coin and ships, concerns abroad in Essos, and other diplomatic matters that mean nothing to you. In the back of your mind, you know it’s hardly been any time at all but it feels like an eternity has passed with Aemond’s hard length still piercing into you, twitching against your pulsing walls every so often. A part of you wonders if he does it on purpose, gives you just enough stimulation to cruelly tease you before going stock still once more. 

The small, unnoticeable to everyone but you, hitches of his breath tell you otherwise and deep down, you know he’s just as affected as you, no doubt steadily leaking into you, though you dare not consider the thought for very long. 

“Aemond,” your breath catches in your throat as Otto directs his attention to your husband, everyone else's gaze quickly following, “Any further communications from Dorne?”

Behind you, your husband clears his throat and you feel him shift beneath you, sitting up slightly straighter in his seat, both hands now clasping your waist to keep you steady on top of him. “Negotiations with the Dornish remain stagnant,” he begins as you practically wilt on his lap, the added attention from the council members making the knot in your belly tighten in a way you shudder to consider, “We received a raven from Prince Qoren some days ago rejecting any dealings with the crown, no matter the amount of coin we have to offer.” He finishes, pointedly looking at Tyland, who proceeds to butt in.

As soon as the attention shifts off of the two of you, it’s like the air around Aemond changes, becoming charged all of a sudden as you feel his chest heave against your back. At the other end of the table, Tyland begins to raise his voice, debating hotly with Corlys and Otto, drawing the attention of everyone else to them. 

“Do you think you can be still?” Aemond whispers, his breath hot against your ear although his voice is barely audible even to you. He must sense you freeze on his lap as the hand on your hip begins to move slowly, dragging your skirts up your legs until his hand can slip underneath them, making you tremble as he grips the soft skin of your thigh, “Tighten around my cock if you can be still.”

Against your better judgment, you do as he says, tensing as you clench your walls around him; his only reply is a low growl against your back. He stays still for a moment, trying with all of his might to appear as if he’s taking great interest in the ongoing argument taking place. 

Finally, once he’s positive everyone is too preoccupied arguing over coin to pay attention to either of you, his deft fingers slip through your folds before finally twirling against your aching pearl. 

You have to bite harshly at the inside of your cheek to keep quiet, trying to keep your breathing steady as you focus on not moving even though you so badly want to rut your hips against his fingers as they rub against you. 

Aemond swallows thickly behind you as he slowly circles his fingers, careful to keep his pace light and steady to not stir up any slick sounds from your wet cunt, though he longs to hear them. 

Your elbows rest against the top of the table, your hands clasped tightly in front of you. The conversation around you seems to shift as Otto begins prattling on about some Tyrell woman finally being with child. Aemond’s fingers suddenly pinch at your sensitive bud and a gasp tumbles past your lips before you can stop it, drawing everyone’s attention. 

“Is everything alright, princess?” Alicent questions from across the table, her dark eyes narrowed with concern. 

You nod quickly, coughing to conceal a moan as you open your mouth to answer her, “Y-Yes, I’m sorry,” you apologize with a weak smile, “I’m just so pleased for the Tyrells, what a j-joyous time this must be for them.” You say quickly, stumbling over the words as your core clenches tightly around your husband’s cock, his small touches driving you steadily to your peak despite the circumstances. 

Alicent gives you a curious look before quickly collecting herself, “Yes, I’m sure the family is quite thankful, children are always such a blessing,” she smiles politely before turning back to her father, “Please, continue.” 

Otto’s voice hardly reaches your ears as he picks up where he left off, though you don’t miss the horribly put out looks you garner from Tyland and Corlys. 

Aemond’s fingers just barely speed up as they swirl over your bud, though the small change is enough to drive you wild and you can feel the way his chest heaves against your back as your walls twitch around his length, threatening to milk his cock dry without him having to move an inch. 

The heat that has slowly been building within you finally begins to bubble over and your husband’s fingers show no signs of stopping as he pushes you closer and closer to your breaking point. The hand of his that has been resting idly on the table top comes over to casually rest against your clenched hands and rubs soothingly up and down your forearm, Aemond’s silent way of telling you he knows you’re close. 

Your eyes flick around the room as you feel your peak threatening to spill over you, frantically checking for any onlookers at the last possible second. You nearly jump out of your skin as your eyes finally land on Aegon, only to find him already staring at you, an amused smirk plastered across his face as he studies you. 

Aemond chooses that exact second to pinch at your pearl again and the small touch is your undoing. Your teeth bite down firmly on your tongue as your walls pulse rhythmically around your husband’s leaking cock, your eyes still locked on Aegon’s violet ones, now darkened with lust. 

Your muscles tense up as you peak helplessly, waves of pleasure lighting up every nerve ending within you. Somehow, you find it within yourself to remain quiet and still on Aemond’s lap as your eyes finally flick away from his older brother’s and you gaze, apparently absentmindedly, at some point on the wall on the opposite side of the room as your high subsides. 

Thankfully, Aemond takes pity on you and slips his hand away, his wet fingers resting gently in your bare thigh, still underneath your gown. 

You slowly come down from your high as the Small Council winds down, Aegon and Otto quickly discussing a few final points before the king formally adjourns the meeting. Tyland and Corlys practically bolt from their chairs, quickly bowing before they exit as they mumble between themselves, no doubt about the displeasure of your presence. 

Otto and Maester Orwyle take their leave soon after, each bowing politely. Aegon busies himself at the head of the table, leaning back in his chair as he lazily sips from his wine cup, the gleam in his eyes making you shiver. 

Across the room, Alicent and Larys whisper between themselves. Strangely, your mother-in-law blushes, shaking her head suddenly and mumbling a quiet, “Not here,” before glancing around the room.

Larys merely shrugs, turning to you as he shuffles from the room, “Do get better soon, princess.” He says with a feeble bow, although the look on his face makes you blush heavily. 

At that, Alicent turns to Aegon, “Would you care to come see the children with me?”

“Go on,” he dismisses her before nodding toward you and Aemond, “I wish to have a word with my brother.” He catches your eye with a quick wink. 

“Of course,” Alicent mutters, glancing curiously between the three of you, “I’ll ask the maids to bring some tea to your chambers this evening, princess. They make a wonderful lemon one that always seems to lift my spirits.” She says with a kind smile, coming around to place a comforting hand on your shoulder before she too heads to the door. 

“Thank you!” You breathily call after her, voice squeaking at the end as Aemond shuffles impatiently beneath you, his cock still prodding against your sensitive walls. 

Aegon chuckles darkly as soon as the doors close once more, standing from his chair with a wide smirk. “I must say, I’m impressed,” he taunts, eyes glinting as he looks between you and his brother, “I didn’t think either of you had that much gaul in you.” 

“What exactly are you tittering about now?” Aemond asks lowly behind you, his voice rough and choppy as his patience clearly wears thin. 

Sniggering, Aegon saunters around to stand beside you, violet eyes scanning over your laps still concealed under the table, “You’ve had your cock in her the whole time, have you not?” He teases, laughing harder still as Aemond merely hums in response, “Come brother, you should be proud of yourself,” he clasps a hand over your husband's shoulder, “She was nearly falling apart when she peaked.” He comments with a final wink as he ambles to the door, stopping to throw one last amused look over his shoulder, “You might want to do something about that bite mark on your shoulder.” He says casually before slamming the doors closed behind him. 

At his comment, you whirl around and your eyes grow wide as you spy a clear impression of your teeth marks in the leather of Aemond’s tunic, on his shoulder where you’d bitten down earlier. Your cheeks heat up at the thought of it being there throughout the entire meeting. 

You don’t have long to dwell on the thought though as your husband roughly pushes you from his lap until you’re bent over the table, cheek pressed to the cool stone surface. “Seven!” You sequel as he unceremoniously shoves his cock back inside you, his hips pumping wildly as his hands grasp at your waist harshly, no doubt leaving bruises. 

“Fucking finally,” he grunts, eyeing the way his cock disappears into your slick heat as he bunches your gown up over your ass, “‘M not gonna last.” He warns lowly, already panting with the speed of his thrusts. 

Your head spins once again as his cock moves within you, his pace nearly bruising. Your teeth sink into the skin of your forearm as you desperately try to keep quiet, another peak already welling up within you. 

Aemond growls and quickly threads the fingers of one hand through your hair, making you whine loudly as he pulls your head back until his chest is once again pressed against you, his other hand coming to rub against your abused pearl once more. 

“Aemond!” You moan, shaking your head in his grasp, one hand braced against the table as the other grabs at his forearm, feeling his muscles twitch as his fingers swirl against your center, “P-Please, I cannot keep myself quiet, I know I can’t—“ You start babbling. 

“Let them fucking hear,” he growls, eye squeezing shut as he feels his stones tightening up, “The whole keep can listen for all I fucking care, I won’t be stopping this time.” 

Your eyes roll back in your head at his words, never having heard him sound this possessed and overcome with pleasure before. After only a few more thrusts, you feel your walls twitch once more, a loud gasp rattling through your chest, “H-Husband, I’m—!”

“That’s it,” Aemond groans, redoubling his efforts against your pearl as he continues to rut into you at a nearly inhuman pace. “Peak, sweetling,” he commands, his voice low and raspy in your ear, “Peak while I breed your precious cunt.” 

His words nearly take your breath away and you whine loudly as another high washes over you, your walls milking your husband’s cock as they clench and pulse against it. 

Behind you, Aemond groans lowly, grunting as his cock twitches strongly inside you, his thick seed flooding into your heat as he finally, finally peaks, the pleasure of it making him dizzy as he leans against your back, forehead pressed between your shoulder blades. 

The two of you are quiet for a moment, your tired pants the only sounds in the chambers. Finally, Aemond untangles his fingers from your hair, both of his hands coming to rest against the cool table as he finally pulls his cock from your center, soothing you with soft shushes when you whine, the emptiness in your core such a foreign feeling after being filled for so long. 

He sinks into his chair once more and pulls you with him, wrapping a protective arm around your waist as you rest your head on his shoulder. Once your breathing is steady, you pick your head up, a displeased groan tumbling from your throat as you see your bite mark more clearly up close, a finger coming up to trace over the intents in the black leather. 

“I’ll need to send this to the seamstress for repairs,” you whisper with an apologetic sigh, “I believe this is beyond my ability to fix.” 

Aemond chuckles beneath you, lilac eye gleaming with pride as he clasps a hand over yours as it still rests on his shoulder, “Don’t trouble yourself with it, my love.” 

“What?” You question, smiling despite the way you tilt your head in confusion, “Aemond, I cannot fix it myself and I’m afraid the mark will not simply go away—,” 

“You misunderstand me, sweetling,” he says, smiling as he looks down at you, “I intend to keep it as a mark of great pride. I shall wear it as a trophy for all to see.” He explains with a teasing laugh. 

You playfully smack a hand against his chest, which only makes him laugh harder, “You can’t be serious!” You admonish with a wide smile.

“Why? I simply wish to remember this day,” he chuckles, “The day I made my sweet wife peak in front of the Gods and everyone.” 

“Aemond!” You cannot help the surprised laugh that leaves you, “You’re as disgusting as your brother!”

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @demirunner @eponaartemisa @trshngyn

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

[maxlarens]

Hi ! As a pescatarian girly and as someone who has recently started to like Lando, I kept thinking about him with pescatarian!reader, because you know opposites attracts and also it made me think of the olive theory from 'How I met your mother', can be fic or smau

(also I'm the anon who requested the Charles fic and I was wondering if you gave names or emojis to your anons 🤔)

ahhh hi😇😇 thank u sm for sending another ask in. verrryy into this! ive never watched himym but i HAVE heard of the olive theory and genuinely think it can be so true. i also think like sharing food/giving certain parts of ur meal to ur partner is so sweet so i loved this a lot🥺🥺

also, tbh i have never had a consistent enough anon to name them/give them an emoji so i would loveee LOVE to do that🙏🏻 pls let me know what i should call u❤️ (and if anyone wants to be a regular/semi-regular anon and give themselves an emoji/name pls do!!!) ANYWAY alright i hope u enjoy— it’s a just a short ficlet 😌💖

LN: quid pro quo

pairing(s): lando norris x reader [read on ao3]

word count: 1.2k

“Eugh,” Lando says, feigning a gag as he looks at the plate of food set in front of you, “That’s disgusting. I don’t understand how you can put that in your mouth.”

Slowly, you raise an eyebrow at him, looking between your plate and Lando’s screwed-up expression; you point at your food, “Salmon? You think salmon is disgusting? Are you joking right now?”

He shakes his head fervently, a grimace still stuck on his face, “It’s gross.”

A laugh, loud and guffawing erupts from your mouth as you realise he’s being entirely serious. He’s fixated on your meal, frowning as if the fish has severely insulted him in some way. Quickly, you clap your hand over your mouth, concerned you’ll offend him if you keep laughing like that. This is one of a handful of dates you’ve been on together— clearly the first you’ve ordered seafood on— and you’re still trying to make a good impression on Lando.

“Wait,” you collect yourself, breathing deeply so you don’t fall into a fit of giggles again, “You’re not allergic are you?”

“No,” he shrugs, “I just hate fish. You’ve never heard that?”

You snort a little indelicately, already going back to eating your salmon, “‘You’ve never heard that?’,” you tease, “Do you think I stalk you on the internet, Norris?”

He grins that small sheepish grin you like so much as a light blush blooms on his cheeks. You’re very fond of him really. He’s cute in a scrappy kind of way; he’s funny and charming, a little bit dumb sometimes; and he’s into you, which is always a bonus. You’re not together— not quite— just seeing each other when you both have time, but it’s been going very nicely if you do say so yourself.

You like him.

He likes you.

Lando rolls his eyes, and purses his lips in an attempt not to let you see the smile that he’s trying to hide, “Don’t you? Stalk me on the internet?”

“Never,” you answer resolutely, thinking blatantly of that night after you’d first met him when you fell down a rabbit hole, spending a good hour watching thirst traps of him on Instagram before coming to your senses, “Not once.”

He hums, unconvinced, “Alright.”

Alright. You make a face, almost stick your tongue out at him but think better of it at the last second. He laughs— giggles— at you. You look away from him, down at your plate, trying to hide the smile that spreads and spreads behind your hair. God, you like him. You’re trying not to let it get away from you. You get the impression that he’s not huge on relationships, and you’re trying hard to be casual about him. It’s difficult— mostly because everything feels so easy when you’re together.

“So,” you start as you push a forkful of salmon and leafy greens around your plate, “Hate to break it to you, but I’m a pescetarian.”

“Um,” Lando asks around a mouthful of half-chewed food, “What’s that mean?”

You stifle a laugh, “Like a vegetarian, but I eat seafood.”

He swallows and makes another face, similar to the earlier one. You can see this is hard for him to process, he clearly dislikes seafood to a degree that you hadn’t quite understood until now. It’s funny. It’s another thing to add to the growing list of reasons you fancy Lando Norris. Though you would think that as a pescetarian you’d want him to like fish, but you suppose by not eating them he’s just saving all the sea animals that you’re not— quid pro quo.

“What about, like,” he waves his fork around, evidently still wondering why you’d eat seafood voluntarily, “just being a vegetarian?”

You shrug, “Vegetables are boring.”

“Right. Better than eating fish though.”

“I like fish.”

He shakes his head, “I don’t get it… It’s— they’re slimy and they smell and they’ve got fucking beady little eyes. It’s not natural.”

“Okay,” you laugh brightly at his despondent expression, “I do need to eat them, unfortunately. Otherwise, I’d probably die of malnutrition, or I dunno, scurvy.”

He groans, hanging his head so that all you can see of his face is that mop of brown curls. You think of your second date when you’d kissed him for the first time in your stairwell and how you’d threaded a hand into it— and they were soft and not heavy with product the way that you hate. The way he’d smelt like expensive cologne and tasted both smokey and sugary at the same time, just like the whiskey and cokes he’d been having at the bar. There’s a soft smile playing at your lips when he finally looks up.

“Does it bother you?” you ask, “That I eat fish.”

He shrugs, shakes his head in a non-committal way that could be either answer and does that little grin again. The one that means he’s going to say something that you’ll find either unbearably cute or embarrassingly funny.

“Yes,” he says, grin not subsiding, “How am I supposed to kiss you when you’ve got fish breath.”

Your eyebrows shoot up and a shocked laugh bubbles from your mouth, you try to ignore the stirring feeling in your gut at the words how am I supposed to kiss you in favour of responding to his lack of tact Try, being the keyword there. It somersaults in your head, how am I supposed to kiss you he said, like he was thinking of doing it again. Which, okay, of course, he’s thinking of doing it again. You understand what this is— but there was an unmistakable fondness there that you just can't shake.

Anyway, you push thoughts of kissing him aside, he’d still accused you of having fish breath, “Wow,” you say dryly, with no malice at all as much as you try to feign it, “You say that to all the girls?”

He blushes, his tan cheeks turning a very pleasant red as he properly realises what he’d said, “Shit. No— oh my god— I’m sorry. I just meant—”

You wave him off, laughing, “I know what you meant. You’re good, Lando.”

“Phew,” he lets out a breath of relief, his nervous laughter punctuating the air between you, without meaning to he says, “God, I thought I’d just fucked it.”

You furrow your brows and frown, confused, “No. You couldn’t.”

You watch him scrub a hand over his face, embarrassed, before it falls away and he gives you a sheepish little grin that says he’s happy to hear that. Toothy, eyes squinted and carving dimples into his cheeks. Your face feels warm and you smile back, biting your bottom lip on the smile so it doesn’t grow and grow to cover your whole face.

Later, after you’ve finished lunch and spent too much time talking over a too-sticky table in your favourite pub, Lando kisses you up against a tree in the park by your apartment. You put your hand in his soft curls and you smell cologne and taste what he’s been drinking as he presses his tongue into yours. The coarse hair of his moustache brushes against your lips and you kiss back with equal gusto. You pull away when it feels like you two are veering into too inappropriate territory for this public park. He chases you, but you laugh softly, pressing a perfunctory closed-mouth kiss to the corner of his mouth. He groans, laughs, and puts his forehead against yours.

You hum, “I guess my fish breath doesn’t bother you so much, huh.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, “You’re never going to let that go are you.”

You shake your head ever so slightly, “Not as long as I live, Norris.”

[soap-ify]

can you do a smut to fluff comfort where simon is overstimulating them and being super degrading and they safeword? Then Simon takes care of them and is basically just super sweet.

this has been sitting in my inbox for so long :( so sorry anon i hope you like it!!

cw — smut at first, degradation, use of safeword, gentle aftercare and lots of comfort.

simon had been frustrated that day, very frustrated after coming back from work. and you felt like trying something new for him.

“fucking slag… look at you takin’ this cock so well.” he spat bitterly, his girthy cock mercilessly ploughing into your tight cunt, his hands gripping your hips in a hard and bruising manner. “too dumb to even speak now, eh? only good for takin’ some cock.”

he had asked you so sweetly at first, if he could take his frustrations out on you, and you had agreed because you wanted to please your boyfriend so badly. plus some crappy porno made you think that rough sex can be amazing. silly reason, yeah.

but right now, all those insults spewing out of his mouth seemed genuine and scary, messing up with your head while your body was all sensitive from already orgasming a few times before. it was overwhelming, too overwhelming — and you knew that if you don’t speak up now, you’ll break down horribly anytime soon.

but god, you felt so guilty. you were supposed to be relaxing him, not turning it onto yourself.

“r-red…!” you managed to choke out, tears sliding down your cheeks as your fingers digged into his shoulder blades, causing simon to halt almost immediately.

“what?” his voice was gruff, eyes still a bit glossy from fucking you, though his grip had loosened significantly and worry was soon blooming onto his face.

“red…” you repeated weekly, lips wobbling as you quickly looked away, not wanting him to look at you crying over something like this.

simon gently eased himself out of you and rolled by your side, his calloused hands cradling your face. “oh, love… did i hurt you? was it too much?” he may have been sounding concerned and still reserved though he was internally panicking inside, wanting to rip and beat some sense into himself.

“yes,” you sniffled and nodded, your hands trembling as you leaned into his embrace, soft pants leaving your lips. “too rough..”

“fuck, m’sorry. so sorry, love. got carried away for a second, i-” he paused, his heart aching terribly with guilt and concern as he saw your face all soaked with tears. it soon dawned on him how mean he was being, even if you had agreed to it. he should’ve known that you were probably not used to this, maybe not even into it.

he slowly got up from the bed and helped you off the bed, his burly arms supporting you. he took you over to the bathroom and soon ran a warm bath for you, helping you sit in the bathtub, your little winces making his heart sink.

“i didn’t mean any of those words, y’know…” he pressed a soft kiss on your forehead, his fingers gently caressing your head.

“i know…” you sniffled and smiled up at him sheepishly. “maybe i’m too soft for all that.”

simon sighed softly and sat by the edge of the bathtub, not caring about himself at all right now. all of his focus was solely on you, helping you clean yourself and dry up once you were done, dressing you in some comfortable pajamas.

once he came back after cleaning himself up, he sat down on the edge of the bed and looked over at you, his once stern brown eyes now soft with love and pain. “i’m so sorry, i mean it…”

“don’t apologise, si…” you gently wrapped your arms around his neck, his hands supporting your hips as he carefully propped you on top of him once he laid down, caressing your lower back.

“i love you… never wanna hurt you, y’know. m’so proud of you for speakin’ the safeword. so proud of you.” he smothered your head with chaste kisses, his breath caressing your skin.

“i love you too…” you mumbled softly, exhaustion soon taking over you. you let his heartbeat lull you into sleep alongside his soft murmurs, feeling safe once again.

[ln444]

truly madly deeply

cw: fluff, very slight angst, comfort (reader comforting lando), you and lando are fucking in love:'(((

now playing: truly madly deeply by 1d

notes: i love requests inspired by songs pls request more of it🥺 wrote this in 30 minutes at 3am so its a bit short sry:(

requested by anon

______________________________________________

these past few weeks have been incredibly tough on lando, both mentally and physically. you've undoubtedly noticed and have been doing your best to support him while giving him the space he needs. lando may struggle to express his feelings in words, but he's been showing his gratitude in other ways – with small gestures and plenty of physical affection. you've been following his f1 journey closely, never missing a grand prix, and making sure you're by his side through it all. lando has never felt more loved and supported. his favorite moments are those when he can finally rest and spend time with you after a grueling race.

qualifying is tomorrow, and lando seems even more nervous than usual. you know him inside out, recognizing his little habits when he's stressed; without him saying a word, you understand the thoughts racing through his mind. the night has fallen, heightening lando's anxiety as the race draws near. he's been more affectionate than usual today, seeking comfort in your hugs and asking for extra kisses. while you love this closeness, it also concerns you. you're well aware of how hard lando can be on himself, and the thought of what he might be going through tugs at your heart.

you join him on the bed, facing him, the stars casting a soft glow on his tired face, making his eyes sparkle even more when they meet yours. "hey, pretty boy," you whisper gently, your hand tenderly cupping his cheek and stroking it. butterflies flutter in his stomach, and his body relaxes a bit. "hey, love" he whispers back, planting a sweet kiss on the palm of your hand, eliciting a smile from you.

"how are you feeling?" you ask softly, your fingers gently playing with his curls – something you know he adores. with a sigh, lando closes his eyes for a moment before locking onto yours again. he finds immense comfort in your gaze, with the rest of the world fading away each time he gets lost in your eyes.

"i don't know... i'm not feeling great about tomorrow," he admits with a hint of worry in his voice. your heart aches just hearing his concerns. you move closer, your gaze softening, and lando's heartbeat quickens. how can you have such a profound effect on him with just your eyes? it drives him crazy.

"why, baby? you don't have to worry. you're lando norris, after all!" you playfully roll your eyes, and a smile tugs at lando's lips. he takes your hand and interlaces his fingers with yours, and you reciprocate with a warm smile.

"no, but seriously, what's bothering you?" you softly toy with his fingers while giving him your full attention.

"i mean, it's more of a mclaren problem than a 'me' problem," he hesitates for a moment, and you gently caress the back of his hand, encouraging him to open up.

"i don't think i belong there anymore. i don't think i can show my true potential with them." his voice is calmer now, and a sense of relief is evident.

you hum softly, and he finds the courage to continue, still focused on your hands playing together. "should i quit? but what if no one else wants me?" panic creeps into his voice, and you immediately grip his hand firmly, bringing your free hand to his cheek.

"hey, you're one of the best drivers out there. there'll always be a team that wants you. believe me, there'll always be a place for you in f1. you've worked so hard to get here, and you truly deserve it," you reassure lando. he gets lost in your eyes, feeling the depth of your love and honesty. his heart feels like it could burst at any moment.

"but i want to be the best," he pouts, and you chuckle softly, giving him a quick peck on the lips, making him smile. "you're already the best for me," you say with a gentle smile, causing lando's heart and cheeks to warm. he groans playfully, slightly embarrassed by his blushing cheeks, and your smile widens. "you're so cute; i don't think my heart can take it," you playfully whimper, cupping his face and squeezing his cheeks. lando bites his lip to suppress a smile, and the sparks in his eyes intensify. you place multiple kisses on his lips, and lando can't help but chuckle. he puts his hands on yours to pause the kisses and says, "just give me a real kiss already, please," another pout forming on his lips. your smile grows bigger, and you oblige, giving him a gentle kiss.

lando pulls back to look at you, and the warm smile on his face melts your heart. "thank you," he says softly, caressing your hands. you don't really know why he's thanking you to be honest; for the kiss or for the honest words. "you don't have to thank me," you say, placing a quick peck on his lips. "i'll always be here for you, no matter what," another peck, "and i'll always be proud of you," another one, "no matter what, my pretty boy."

lando's heart has never felt this warm. in fact, his entire body feels warm right now, overwhelmed by the love he's receiving. "god, what did i do to deserve you?" he asks with a sweet and calm voice, clearly feeling better. "i'm truly, madly, deeply in love with you."

"i know you did not just quote a one direction song," you both laugh, and lando groans, hiding his face behind your hands, feeling a bit embarrassed. "it's cute," you move your hands to look at him. "i'm truly, madly, deeply in love with you too," you say with a hint of teasing in your voice, but you absolutely mean it. a big smile forms on lando's face, and you run your hands through his hair to pull him into a tender kiss.

lando's heart feels lighter, your sweet words and touch washing away all the negative thoughts for the night. if you have to repeat every single word you said to him tomorrow and the day after – every day, you will do it, again and again. lando knows it, and he has never felt so thankful.

______________________________________________

masterlist

[foli-vora]

once again in your arms

joel miller x f!reader

A/N: mwahah, hello boys i’m baaack (10 points to whoever knows what movie that quote's from). took an unexpected break coz life, but i’m ready to get back on track. this was requested by a beautiful anon a while back (sorry for the wait angel), but i hope you enjoy! x

Request: hello! so this is kinda angsty: joel and the reader are married and have a baby (plus sarah, obviously). the day of the outbreak, reader and baby were in town and she couldnt call joel (or viceversa) cause the phone lines were down. they were separated for a few years until they arrives at the quarantine zone he's in, and he recognizes them in the crowd.

Word count: 4.5k-ish

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, birth and having a baby, domestic fluff, angst, pre and post outbreak, some spoilery things if you haven’t seen the show yet, heartbreak, loss of a child, apocalypse things, i sweat at the idea of caring for a baby during the end of the world, soft reunions, fluff, cameos of my fave oc’s made in a different series

It’s a fact you had learnt in the very early days of your relationship... the Miller men knew how to care for a lady. Whether it was Tommy sliding in to open the door for you before you could reach for the handle, or Joel draping you in blankets and taking on the responsibility of keeping your hot water bottle warm to fend off cramps for the evening, not a moment went by when you didn’t feel the constant reassurance of their care.

Especially now, fresh from the hospital and tender from your days of excruciating pain and an extensively long labour, Tommy quickly slaps the pillows into something plusher, hands gentle as they guide you down until you’re reclining into the armchair.

Joel keeps an eye on you from across the room, the brief wash of concern slipping away with the easy smile that grows along his lips when your eyes meet.

He rocks the wrapped bundle in his arms softly, a big hand dwarfing the small head that peaks from the blankets. His fingers brush through the light smattering of hair peeking out from the cotton burrito, his index running along the tiny peak of a nose and you feel your heart swell in your chest.

“Dad,” Sarah whines with an eager smile, shifting restlessly on the couch, “come on, I’ve been waiting all weekend.”

“Oh my god,” Joel drawls sarcastically, “all weekend? Baby girl, how are you survivin’ right now?”

“Shut up,” her grin widens, “give me my baby brother before I explode.”

“Well, we don’t want that mess all in the livin’ room,” Joel quips, stepping over your weekend bags tossed on the floor and closer to the couch, “ain’t treadin’ your brain all into the rug—thing was damn expensive.”

Sarah shrugs, readjusting her body to sit straighter and holding her arms out expectantly, “Least I have a brain.”

Tommy snorts in amusement, grinning at his brother's expense, “That’s true.”

“Are you still here?” Joel side eyes him, barely fighting the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

They bicker, throwing their little snippy sibling comments back and forth before Sarah clears her throat, her eyebrows rising in impatience.

“Alright, alright. Here, watch his head,” Joel instructs gently, a smile playing along his lips, “that’s it, baby, you got him.”

It’s a beautiful picture, Sarah carefully bringing the baby closer and tucking him carefully into her arms, and the sentiment is shared with Tommy as the flash and click of a camera goes off. He removes the polaroid sliding from the slot and sits it on the coffee table to develop before instructing Joel to slide in next to her and smile.

Both Joel and Sarah are oblivious to his instruction, lost in the bubble that has overcome them. You find peace watching them, warmth spreading along your limbs by the sweet tenderness of it all. The love is clear between the three of them cuddled on the couch, and it’s almost too much for your heart to bear.

Sarah beams down at her baby brother, cooing soft words and stroking a gentle finger down Matthew’s cheek. Joel throws an arm to rest on the top of the couch behind Sarah, turning into her and answering her questions quietly.

8 pounds, 3 ounces. Smaller than you. No, he didn’t cry at all—gave me and the docs a damn heart attack. She sure did a great job. 

Your Joel was never a man to wear his heart on his sleeve, but the emotion shines from his eyes, bleeds through the lines in his face and it’s enough to bring tears building along your lash line.

“You okay over there?”

His familiar drawl brings your attention to him, and you smile at him, tired and fully at peace. It’s bliss, despite the ache of birth still hanging in your limbs. M

“I’m fine,” you respond quietly, lids heavy with exhaustion, “I’m just so happy.”

He fucking beams. His grin creases his cheeks and he nods softly.

“Me too, honey,” he mutters, turning his attention back to his children and playing with a strand of Sarah’s hair as he gazes down at Matthew, “me too.”

—

Four months later.

Chaos.

Matthew wails against your chest, the deafening sounds of screams, bullets, sirens and explosions setting him off into hysterics. Your arms tighten around him, keeping his face tucked closely into your throat so your scent could hopefully provide him some reassurance.

You crouch beside cars, you run until your legs ache. You take cover in stores, the soles of your shoes crunching over broken glass of the shattered windows. Every phone you try gives nothing but a dull tone. Radios are filled with static and emergency broadcasts play on the view screens you run past in your effort to escape whatever the hell is happening.

Worry stirs along the edges of your mind. Is Joel okay? Sarah? Tommy? You can’t call him, you can only run and hope nothing takes you down in your effort to get back to your car. You pass people crouched over others, blood smearing along their lips as they tear unforgivingly into the flesh of another.

It’s a nightmare, and it’s everywhere you look.

Almost there.

You see the sign of the parking lot and it only makes you run that much faster, even though your legs threaten to give out at any minute. You pass an elderly man crouching beside a woman, blood flowing from the open gash on her throat, and the ache clutching your heart only increases when his pleas reach your ears over the mayhem.

“Gloria,” he mutters in an aged rasp, “up you get, love. You’re alright, come on now—”

You can’t help it.

Somewhere in your mind you can feel Joel screaming at you to keep running, to get yourself to safety and not give a damn about anyone other than Matthew, but the image of this man cradling his wife’s wrinkled, bloodied hand is enough to get you advancing to him before anyone could hurt him. 

“Sir—”

He ignores you, too busy with brushing the woman’s blood soaked white hair from her face.

“Sir, we have to move—”

You wrap your fingers around his shoulder and shake firmly. His head gives a shake of denial as he clutches his wife’s hand tighter.

“No… no, she’ll need help—she has a bad ankle.”

Shifting Matthew unsteadily onto your hip, your fingers wrap under his arm and tug him onto his feet. He fights you, bats your hold away with an infuriated expression at your rough handling of him.

“I’m so sorry, but she’s gone—we have to run. I—I have a car, please… just come with me, please!”

“I won’t leave her—”

“Please… they’re coming! I—would she want this for you? To die like this?”

He blinks, his frown softening ever so slightly before screams pierce the air, much closer than you anticipated, and terror claws up your throat until you feel you’ll vomit.

You hold out a hand, relieved when his own rough, calloused hand finally takes it, and then you’re running, albeit slower than before, but you make it to your car with no issues.

You dive into the driver's seat, passing Matthew over to the stranger when he makes an impatient gesture to hold him and then you’re tearing out of the lot, running down the few rabid looking beings that advance on you with bloodied expressions of hunger.

You don’t think you take a proper breath until you’re past a military barricade that had seemingly been destroyed in the attack, flying down the highway and around other panicked drivers with sweat slicking your skin. 

Taking a deep breath to slow the brutal pounding of your heart, you look at Matthew, now calmed and looking up at the stranger with an obvious shine of curiosity. The old man is clearly softened by the baby, letting his small hand wrap around his finger and wiggling it playfully in his hold.

“That’s Matthew,” you mutter shakily, meeting the eyes of the elderly man before gazing back out the windscreen. You take another breath before giving your own name, tears biting at your eyes when you utter the name Miller.

Do you still have a husband? A step daughter? A brother in law? The unknown scares you, outright fucking terrifies you. 

The man nods in your peripheral vision.

“Harold,” he finally says, voice rough and tired.

—

There are people everywhere, screaming, crying.

People run, shout, wail over family and friends.

Tears have long dried on his face, his head thumping relentlessly with the remnants of his heartbreak. Tommy’s grip is firm on him, tugging him out of the way of people tearing down in their direction, pulling him to where a makeshift table is thrust under a tent as a reception of sorts.

He doesn’t care about the people already there asking about their family and friends. He shoves them out of the way, hands shaking as they clutch the edge of the weak table.

“I’m lookin’ for a woman… she’d be with a baby boy, not even four months old—”

His voice shakes. He can’t get it to stop. He struggles to get out the detailed descriptions of you both down to the clothes you were wearing, speaking your names through trembling lips. His stomach jolts at the thought of you somewhere, lying helplessly on the floor with your flesh getting torn into while Matthew screams in his car seat.

He’s a damn baby. He wouldn’t know what’s happening, wouldn’t know why his mama’s not there with him—

The woman gives a small expression of sympathy over the thin surgical mask covering her mouth, “I’m sorry, sir. We’ve had no babies that young come through, and nothing like that has come in over the radios.”

He retches. 

His body heaves, almost as if it’s rejecting the mere idea that you weren’t somewhere safe waiting for him. He had failed. Failed to keep Sarah safe, failed to keep Matthew safe, you—the vows he had made now meant shit. He hadn’t been there for better or worse. He’d hadn’t done what a father should have and kept his kids free from harm.

Sarah had died, terrified and in agony, in his hold. Her bloodied handprints remain dry and caked on his arms. Matthew had died, not even making it to six months. A baby, still fresh to the world, only just able to hold his own head up. You had died, not knowing where he and Sarah were, if they were even safe.

Tommy hauls him to a close trash can, rubbing a firm hand up and down his back as he chokes on vomit, tears soon streaming down his cheeks when his body eventually has nothing left to give. His heart hammers in his chest, thundering against his ribs and filling his ears until he’s unaware of the noises around him. 

“They’re gone,” he whispers hoarsely, clutching at the rim of the trash can in an effort to keep himself up.

“Now we don’t know that—”

“God damn it, Tommy, you saw what it was like out there!” 

Tommy sighs, his own eyes filling with tears. “We gotta keep hope, Joel—”

“Hope?” Joel spits at his brother, “What good is hope against that shit out there? She would’ve been alone, you know as well as I Matthew only would’ve slowed her down. They were in the city. We couldn’t even keep safe out here! They’re—they’re gone. My wife… my baby boy, my baby girl—”

The sobs tear from his chest, harsh and painful. He mourns for hours, unseeing of the flurried movement still happening around him, his sorrow mixing with the flood of agony filling the makeshift safe zone with every new unhurt civilian looking for someone familiar.

Tommy doesn’t take his arms away from around his brother until dawn starts to pierce the horizon, 

—

Two years later.

He still fills your thoughts daily.

Your life, your old life, would flash behind your eyelids at night when sleep would finally claim you. You’d feel his touch, kiss his lips, touch his face. It all felt so normal. The dreams would be nothing but memories, and somehow, it made them feel more like nightmares.

Mornings making breakfast with Sarah, dancing to the music falling from the radio. Family game nights, watching Tommy and Joel get more and more competitive with each game. Grocery shopping with Joel, simply wandering down the aisles and relishing in his comforting touch warming your lower back. 

You could never quite make peace with the possibility that he was dead. It didn’t sit right. The idea that your Joel had been lost to the disaster that had claimed the world just seemed impossible. Your heart rejected the notion, refused to accept that its counterpart wasn’t somewhere out there, living, breathing, surviving,

Sarah and Tommy, too.

They had to be somewhere, holed up safely and keeping well. They had to.

“They’ve established a quarantine zone close by,” you say quietly, mindful of Matthew sleeping on your lap, “it’ll be a lot safer there than out here. I think we should give it a go… find a more secure place to live. I’ve heard they have work available, good flow of food and medicine…”

Harry snorts quietly, shifting under his old, thick jacket, “That doesn’t mean they’re happy giving it out. There’ll be a catch somewhere.”

You eye the long carved frown in his features and lean forward to fix the blanket covering his tired legs, “Don’t you think we should try at least?”

“Maybe they’ll put a bullet in me,” Harry grumbles moodily, “I’m old—I can’t work like they’ll want me to. Although, it’ll beat living through this bloody nightmare any longer.”

“Harold,” you chide softly, heart aching at the thought of losing the grumpy old man after spending so long by his side.

He’d quickly become a grandfather figure of sorts, to both you and Matthew. The little boy was obsessed with him, and had been since the day you had come together, and though he tried to hide it behind his usual icy facade, Harry was smitten, weak from the boy learning to call him pa.

“He’ll be safer in there,” Harry finally grumbles, gazing at the sleeping toddler. “This is no life for him out here. It’s getting worse and worse. Stability will do him good.”

“And you’ll come with us?”

He sighs sharply, crossing his arms over his chest. “Fine—I’ll come. But if they don’t kill me, I’ll be bloody upset with you.”

You snort in amusement, a grin curling your lips. “Fair enough. Now drink your soup.”

“I’m not hungry. You have it.”

He shoves it away, pushing it in your direction, as he usually does. It’s a daily fight—him refusing food in favour of giving you and Matthew more, ensuring you both never went hungry despite his own hunger and rapid weight loss due to the sudden lack of food.

You give him a playful frown and hold the small cup out to him.

“Don’t make me force feed you, old man, drink it.”

—

The walls of the Quarantine Zone are a lot more daunting than you had originally thought they would be. They tower high, and the barely there movement of soldiers along the front and top of it have nerves start to build in the pit of your stomach.

Maybe this isn’t a good idea. Surely they wouldn’t shoot without asking questions? Would they even give you a chance? What happens to you if the zone is full? Would they let you go on your merry little way?

God, you feel sick. 

The ice creeping along your skin doubles, and you tighten your grip on the baby carrier strapped to your chest. Matthew hums quietly against your back, his little fingers tracing random patterns along your shirt as he bounces with your each step. Harry walks somewhat steadily beside you, his cheeks reddening with the more distance you cover.

He gives you a reassuring nod when you look to him for guidance, and you continue forward, swallowing the lump building in your throat when you become aware of them yelling about your presence.

Their guns are raised when you eventually make it closer, and it’s automatic to throw your hands up in surrender.

“We’re not infected!” you shout, hoping they’d listen. 

A soldier steps forward. “On the ground, now!”

“Shit. Okay! Please, I—we’re not infected—”

“Get. On. The. Ground!”

“I have a kid! I have a—please, we’re not—”

“Get the kid out.”

Panic flares to life in your chest. You fight the tremble in your fingers as they raise to the clip across your chest, winding a supportive hand around to your back to keep Matthew from falling out of the carrier as it loosens from your torso.

After a bit of shifting, Matthew stands on shaky legs, his eyes darting between you and the few soldiers with their weapons raised.

“It’s okay, baby,” you soothe softly, “we gotta do what the man says, okay? Can you do that for mama?”

You continue to lower until your front hits the rubble covered ground, and you motion for Matthew to do the same, heart breaking as he cowers in fear and falls to his knees before copying your posture and hiding his face against the road.

More voices fill your ears, the obvious presence of more soldiers swarming from the gate causing your pulse to skyrocket as Harry lowers on the other side of the small toddler.

“Check ‘em.”

“Everything’s fine,” you murmur, keeping your gaze on Matthew and smiling when he peeks at you from between his fingers, “we’re okay. Keep your eyes on me, baby. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

It stings.

You automatically flinch away from the device someone holds at your neck, freezing when more weapons are raised in your direction. The device gives a small beep and the soldier gives a loud clear, before moving for Matthew.

He cries out at the pain, his chest heaving with his growing sobs. The guns move in his direction and you’re flying towards him before you can even think, yelping when arms pull you away from your baby before you can console him. His screams worsen. 

“Please,” you beg, “he’s just a baby—!”

The soldiers remain emotionless.

Another beep, another clear.

The fingers digging into your arms loosen and then you’re free, hurriedly crawling on all fours until Matthew’s in your arms, his tear stricken face pressing into your throat. You soothe him softly, murmuring how well he did and that he’s safe with you while the soldiers move their attention to Harry.

When the device gives a final clear, another soldier steps forward, a small smile stretching his lips.

“Sorry about that,” he says, stepping forward until he’s only a step away, “but we can’t be too careful.”

It’s surreal being around people again.

For the longest time, it’s just been you, Matthew and Harry. The people left after the event had turned cruel, desperate for any remaining resources and resulting to violence left, right and centre. It’d been sheer luck that you three had escaped some of the nastier characters you’d come across during your treks. Sure, you’d lost a few supplies every now and then, but you were thankful you all were still here at least.

The man leads you into an office of sorts, with rusted old chairs to sit on while he goes about ‘registering’ you. You’re surprised at the process of it all, confused when he says you’re in luck because after this morning, there are new rooms available. What does that mean? Had something happened to the occupants?

Your stomach turns, but you dare not dwell on it.

Safety for Matthew, that’s all that matters. That’s why you’re here.

It feels like hours before you’re stepping into the sun again, lead out onto a relatively normal looking street with written directions to your new accommodation. The door bangs loudly behind you, fully closing you from the horrors of the outside world, and you try not to focus on the looks of curiosity, borderline hostility, as you start to walk further into the QZ, the height of the wall casting a large shadow over your path.

There’s a main square of sorts, filled with small stations of people selling various items. Your stomach grumbles at the sight of shitty looking food, desperate to eat something other than the random old bits and pieces you’d find through your looting, but you’d have to begin work to even afford a single half burnt bread roll. The two ration cards you had received at your ‘registration’ wouldn’t make a dent in what you’d need to afford any of it.

You pass the sellers, sharing a sullen look with Harry as he too realises he wouldn’t have enough for any of it.

There’s crowds, and you try to keep to yourself as you move, but something catches your eye, as if your sight had been automatically pulled to that direction and you’re oblivious to the people bumping into your frame.

For a moment, you’re sure you’re dreaming.

Did they end up shooting you at the gate? This couldn’t be real, couldn’t be unfolding right before your very eyes. You feel alive. You feel your pulse, your breath. You feel Matthew shift in the carrier, you hear Harry making comments about the people and the surrounding buildings.

You can’t look away.

You’re pulled in his direction, certain with every bone in your body that it’s him. It’s him.

The man turns, and his eyes are meeting yours through the crowds before you can even brace for it, and you see the moment it hits him.

He freezes, his eyes unblinking as if they don’t want to risk losing the hallucination his mind had conjured. He steps forward, and again, and again, slow in his movements, cautious.

“Joel?” You breathe, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hear you over the bustle of your surroundings and the distance between you, but he must see your lips mould his name because then he’s running, ducking through the people and heading straight your way.

You start to jog, careful not to disturb the carrier holding Matthew too much, and then he’s there. He’s there and he’s real and he’s saying your name so sweetly, a broken rasp of disbelief and a tremble taking over his hands as they raise to cup your cheeks.

You sob at his touch. 

The tears flow from your eyes and you grasp at whatever you can on him, your fingers tightening around the jacket hanging from his frame as you attempt to pour two years of loss into your embrace. He cradles the back of your head, keeps your face pressed tightly against the dirtied skin of his throat as he mutters brokenly about how he thought you were dead and that he’d missed you so damn much.

“Oh baby boy,” he rumbles, noticing the baby carrier and the toddler within it with tears filling his lash line, “look at you.”

You hurriedly unclip the harness and sweep Matthew out of it, bringing him into the middle of your embrace. Joel runs a hand along Matthew’s cheek before sweeping down and kissing him on the forehead, his tears dropping over the toddler’s cheeks in obvious relief and utter joy. 

“How—”

You shake your head, nuzzling into the rough hand holding your cheek. “Later. We’ll talk later about everything, I just—god, I’ve missed you so fucking much, Joel.”

His head lowers until his forehead is pressed against yours, and his eyes flutter closed. You feel it in the simple gesture, how much he had missed you, mourned for you. He gives a small nod, followed by a quiet okay, before another presence suddenly makes themselves known.

Your body jolts with the weight hitting your side, and you jump in fright before your eyes come across a slightly skinny looking Australian Shepherd desperate for attention.

His tongue lolls from his mouth as he attempts to lap at your cheek, and you chuckle through your stream of steady flowing tears at the cheerful dog.

“Chip,” Joel grunts in slight annoyance, shoving the fluffy beast away from where he tries to jump and sniff at Matthew’s cheeks, “down—down, boy!”

“You have a dog?” You ask in curiosity, reaching out to pet the animal. Your smile widens when he eagerly nuzzles into your touch with an excited whine.

“He was wanderin’ the QZ when I came in,” Joel replies, one of his hands leaving your waist to deliver a rough rub to the dogs head, “followed me home one night and hasn’t stopped botherin’ me since. Tommy said he’d be good for me.”

“Tommy’s here? And Sarah?” You perk immediately in excitement, your eyes flying past his shoulder to look for his brother and the other part of your heart that’s been missing for years. “I’m so glad they’re alright, where are they?”

You don’t notice how considerably quiet he’s gone until you look at him. He’s defeated, guarded, his dark eyes drawn to the floor. He can’t look at you. Why can’t he look at you? What’s happened?

“Joel?”

“Sarah… she—she—”

He struggles to finish the sentence, the words stick uncomfortably on his tongue. His features twist in clear anguish and you feel the world around you shatter. Sarah, she… she’s gone? When? How?

Your heart sinks, weak and broken by the unexpected news. Your mind struggles to wrap itself around the notion that you’d never see her again, that the last time you saw her was truly the last. 

Regret begins to build in the pit of your stomach. That last day… you should’ve hugged her tighter, kissed her forehead, told her how much she meant to you and how lucky you were to be in her life—

The tears begin again.

“Oh Joel, I-I’m so sorry,”

You both share the heartache, wrapped in each other's arms and breathing in the other. His tight hold doesn’t loosen for a second, and you attempt to put every ounce of energy in your tired body into returning it.

The world stands still, just like it did that cursed day.

How can you be so elated that he’s here, and yet be filled with so much pain at the same time? How long has he been lost, no doubt blaming himself for his baby girl not making it to where he is now? You mourn her, mourn him for being lost, stuck on a path of despair and believing he had lost everything for so long.

What had become of him? What had the pain done to him? Surely it would’ve been pure torture for the man who practically breathed family. 

Harry can wait. Introductions can wait. Food, drink, sleep—you care for none of it. Not now. All that matters is that Joel is here, truly here in the flesh, wrapped in your arms and holding the child he hasn’t seen for two years. All that matters is that you had found one another in the violent hellscape the world had become.

Peace, but that tranquillity will forever be tainted by loss, a void hanging in the midst of relief, never to be filled again.

-

tag list 1: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @sergeantbannerbarnes, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy66, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld,

tags that have continuously not worked will be deleted from my taglist soon x

[rebelliousstories]

Their S/O Walking in on Them Changing…

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Suggestive themes, Brief Strong Language, Fluff

Word Count: 1,222

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Leave a TIP: Here and Here

Logan Howlett/ The Wolverine

* Logan has been around a long time, and has long let go of any shame of someone catching him in that vulnerable position. That being said…

* He never likes anyone coming into his space unannounced. Clothed, or not. So, someone coming into his room, without knocking, while he’s sliding pants on, dressed only in boxers; he’s pausing and sniffing the air to determine if the claws are necessary. When he doesn’t smell an immediate threat, he’s still hunched over and stationary when he sees you walk in.

* “Hey,” he’ll grumble, “you okay, bub?”

* He’s not afraid of you seeing him like this, but the pausing is a little concerning for him. Logan gets his pants on, does his belt, and then comes over to you.

* Logan always smells like smoke and whiskey, coupled with what can only be described as an animal-type musk to him. But it’s not terribly overpowering. And his chest is so very warm when he crowds you in after catching you staring. Logan’s hands on your waist just fill you with warmth. He is a walking furnace, and definitely uses it to his advantage.

* “Everything alright in that head of yours?” He would just love to tease you when he caught you openly gawking at him. It makes him feel better about himself, and your relationship. Every version of Logan has enough trauma to fill several books, so reassurance is something he definitely needs every now and again.

* Safe to say that walking in on Logan is a wonderful chance for him to get the praise he wants, and maybe a pair of wandering hands across his chest.

Wade Wilson/ Deadpool

* Oh boy, walking in Wade is both a blessing and a curse. This man is well aware of his physique. He holds no illusions that his cancer ridden skin is not the most attractive thing in the world, but he made do with what he had. So catching him is near impossible. Before the mutation had wrecked his look, he would have gladly let you catch him in the middle of changing. Now, well, he didn’t want to make you lose your lunch.

* So, all that to say, catching him changing is very difficult. However, it has happened. It was just a regular day. Well, as regular as it could get into the household. Wade had just returned from an afternoon of Deadpool-ing around the city, and was trying to get changed before you came home. He knew that he was cutting it close as it is, but he still held out hope that he would be done. That wasn’t the case. The sound of a door coming open made Wade try and get out of his suit fast, but that only succeeded in getting him stuck in the suit.

* “Well, this is an interesting sight.” He flopped on the bed, and looked to the door. There you stood, with a shopping bag from your day out, and watching your boyfriend struggle with his suit.

* “I know. It’s like a golf ball covered in skin that went into a red leather condom. Can you just yank on that leg please?” It’s a much less funny event than you would expect. And when you don’t leave after getting him out of his suit? He’s utterly confused. Standing there in his boxers, Wade was patiently waiting for you to go. But you never did. Your eyes stayed glued to him, and he couldn’t help but make a comment.

* “You can’t honestly like this, you little freak?”

* “You bet your sweet ass I do.”

* He doesn’t believe you, but after a few rounds, he might come around to the idea.

Remy LeBeau/ Gambit

* My sweet southern gentleman. Let me tell you one thing that I said in the last headcanons; This man is so respectful. Remy LeBeau, walking in on you, is embarrassed about betraying your trust like that. However, Remy LeBeau that you walk in on, is a tease, sly, smug S.O.B.

* I can fully see where he would be changing too. He’d be a gentleman and allow you the first shower so you can have all the hot water and a longer experience. But Remy is burning up. It’s summer in New Orleans, the bug screen is up on the windows, but the breeze can’t cool him down enough. He figures that he could at least take off his shirt while he’s waiting. But his pants soon join the shirt on the ground as well because he still can’t cool down. He’s about to flop down onto the bed when he hears the bathroom door open and out you walk in just a towel.

* “See somethin’ ya like, cher?”

* “Go take a shower, you stinky swamp rat.”

* He might be a little cocky when he catches you staring at his figure that he usually keeps hidden under many layers, but when your face heats up n a fierce blood red blush, Remy is quick to get her his clothing and move in to go take his own shower. Once he’s out though, prepare for a menace to be on your hands.

* He’s constantly asking if you like his body, and will gently tease you for the rest of the night about you not being able to wait to catch him in such a state of undress. If you play along, he’ll keep going till the moment calls for it. But if you aren’t here for the banter, he’s genuinely asking if he made you uncomfortable. Your comfort is paramount with our swamp rat.

* But Gambit will tease you about it occasionally, especially in public, when it can almost guarantee a rise out of you.

Poly! Deadpool and Wolverine

* Much like the DP headcanons above, I feel like this is going to happen after a mission they go on. The two of the stumble home to the apartment, and already have their masks off, when they fumble and slam their way into the bedroom. They try to be quiet because they know that you’re asleep in the bed in the middle of the room, but it’s hard when the grunts of sore muscles and moving leather fill the room.

* “Stop making so much damn noise, mouth. You’re gonna wake up the beast, and I don’t feel like dealing with that right now.” Logan would grumble.

* “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that my quiet unzipping of my suit meticulously was overpowering your grunts and groans like you just got out of a cage match.”

* “Will the two of you shut the hell up and strip so I can have something to dream about?” Your voice startled the two men, who had assumed that you were sleeping peacefully.

* Let me remind you, these are fully grown men and they decided to spend the next fifteen minutes taking off their suit while putting the blame on the other for you waking up. Like a couple of children, but you sucked it up because it was worth the eye candy to help drift you off into dreamland once more.

* By the time they get into bed and quit their bickering, you have already fallen asleep to the dreams filled with Logan’s perfect sculpted body, and Wade’s side comments. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[hannie-dul-set]

WHAT’S WRONG WITH CEO PARK?

p — PARK SUNGHOON x gn! reader. g — ceo! sunghoon and secretary! reader, humor, romance. w — swearing, sunghoon being a weirdo, a misplaced marriage proposal. 1.3k words.

requested by — anon: menace to everyone but you x the opposite of that.

note — i hate the cold angsty male ceo trope. so instead i turned ceo hoon into a weirdo that's a little bit too in love and doesn’t understand the concept of workplace boundaries which stresses you the fuck out!!

when you got promoted from being assistant secretary thanks to your ceo’s former secretary resigning, your co-workers did not throw you a celebration.

“you called for me, mr. park?”

instead, they threw you an advanced farewell party. it was nice working with you, said the cake dusted with stray confetti on the day of your promotion. they’re celebrating your inevitable resignation. they’re sure you’re going to follow suit after you predecessor within three months max because according to them—

“yes.”

your boss, park sunghoon, is the nastiest fucker in the planet.

“take a seat.”

you gulp, making cautious steps into your ceo’s office. he’s signing a stack of documents while you take your sweet time delaying having to sit in front of his paper-stacked desk, setting them aside the moment you sit down, sharp eyes immediately zeroing into your soul, and you start sweating.

there’s a bet on the line on when you’d eventually quit. today marks your fourth month here, and you’re pretty sure heeseung is going to win because you are in fact this close to sliding your pre-written resignation letter over his desk, adding onto his pile.

not because he’s terrible, like they all say. not because he’s temperamental.

“sunoo told me you were sick,” sunghoon starts. “why did you come to work today?”

but because you fear your boss might be a little bit in love with you.

“is...is that the only reason you asked for me?” you hesitantly say, picking on your cuticles and trying to avoid eye contact because the concern drowning your boss’s expression is just enough to drown you as well.

“you don’t look well,” he avoids your question. of course you don’t look well. you’re very, very uncomfortable right now and the main cause of that discomfort is him. “you should go home. i’ll tell jay to drive you.”

you’re pretty sure jay isn’t going to be happy with that. 

“mr. park—”

“i thought i asked you to call me sunghoon.”

your mouth is left hanging open. you’re flabbergasted. you take a second to recollect your thoughts. “...mr. park. sir,” you emphasize. you should at least be the one reminding him of your hierarchical roles at the moment. sunghoon looks upset that you’re not abiding by his request, but says nothing in protest so you continue. “i ran out of sick leaves. and there’s still so much work to do, i can’t just go home.”

“you ran out? well i’ll just give you more.” sir, that’s not how it works. “and jungwon can take care of your work. you should go home and rest.”

jungwon wouldn’t be too happy with that either. you feel your stress levels rising, headache incoming, because he’s just not listening to you. this crazy bastard, you think to yourself.

but maybe you were thinking a little too loudly.

“can you say that again?”

you slap a hand over your mouth with a gasp.

“say it again.”

you’re fucked. you just called your boss a bastard right to his face. “i’m—i’m so sorry, mr. park, i didn’t mean to—” but maybe that’s a good thing because that means you wouldn’t need to debate about resigning if he’s gonna fire you. “i apologize. i’ll accept any punishment you’ll give me.”

“no, say it again,” he hums, sounding a little too happy after being called crazy and a bastard, and you get a bad feeling. a really bad feeling. “i felt like we just got closer because of that. swear at me again.”

there’s a smile playing on your boss’s face. 

“i— i don’t think that’s appropriate, sir.”

jesus christ, he’s a bit more in love with you than you thought.

“why not?” when sunghoon gets up from behind his seat, circling out from behind his desk to lean back against it right in front of you instead, you start fearing for your life. he looks at you, arms crossed in disappointment, and he looks a little too good with rolled up sleeves and slim-fit slacks. 

crap, were you just checking out your boss?

his crazy is rubbing off on you.

“you have no trouble with swearing at and laughing around with the others,” he says. “why can’t you do the same with me?”

he is not normal, you think. thankfully not out loud this time. “sir, you’re my boss. i’m just your secretary. there’s a big gap there. i can’t just treat you the same way as i do with my co-workers.”

your boss takes in your words. he remains quiet with a stoic face for a few moments, and with each passing second of silence, you feel half a year of your life being shaved off. “ah,” he finally makes a sound after a good minute and a half. “should i give you a promotion, then?”

oh my fucking god, he’s nuts.

“boss, there’s an urgent thing you need to—”

“did i permit you to enter my office?”

your eyes widen, slapped in the face by a whiplash when your fellow secretary jake suddenly pops into the office, only to be cut off by the sharp glare and icy tone of your boss. jake’s hand doesn’t leave the doorknob when he nearly stumbles in shock with a stack of papers pressed to his chest. you see the look on his face. it’s the face of someone who’s about to get royally fucked over.

“n—no, sir. but these documents are—”

“then why are you in my office?” holy shit. so this is what they meant when they said ceo park is a bitchy demon from hell. jake looks like he’s about to piss himself. you’ve never been on the brunt of his temper— likely because he’s biased and has feelings for you, which has always felt burdensome. but now you’re a little thankful because you’d probably cry if he snapped at you like that.

“i’m sorry, i’ll leave now. i apologize.”

with that, jake makes his hasty retreat, and you’re once more left alone with your crazy boss. 

“where were we?” he says. “oh, right. your promotion.”

you’re starting to feel dizzy. 

“i’ve never liked how seojoo handled things. you can take his spot as the sales department head.” you have to stop him. you have to stop him before he actually fires a competent employee and gives you their spot as a courtship gift. “wait. i think you’d prefer working in HR actually. it’s a shame ms. kim is going to lose her position, but i can just—”

“mr. park—”

“sunghoon,” he cuts you off. “call me sunghoon.”

you look at him, exasperated. “sir,” you say. “i don’t think this is right.”

sunghoon raises a brow. “you don’t like HR? which department would you prefer then?”

you can’t. you can’t do this anymore. you make the mistake of letting your eyes wander out of stress, because they inadvertently land on the shiny gold glint of his nameplate, which is a terribly bad move following after his question because sunghoon notices, and sunghoon gets the very, very wrong idea.

oh, no. oh, no no no no no—

“i see.”

he doesn’t! he doesn’t see! you aren’t coveting his seat! you just want to go back to work and stop dealing with your insane and far too in love with you boss!

“i’m afraid i can’t give away my position as ceo,” he tells you. you swallow, shutting your eyes because you don’t want to acknowledge the mess you’ve just accidentally made, but your lack of vision definitely doesn’t interfere with your sense of hearing.

what you hear next sounds clearer than you’d like it to be.

“how about the position of being the ceo’s fiancé instead?”

that’s it.

“i will be getting back to work now, mr. park.”

there is something very wrong with your boss. it’s not in your job description to fix him.

WHAT’S WRONG WITH CEO PARK? © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

[gutterfuuck]

Can I request a mark drabble w/ breeding kink 👉👈 I'd love either bff mark or sinister mark but if you go the sinister route can I be a bit of a coward and ask that he be a little. Softer. Maybe specifically for the reader bc I am a little pansy and I get unrealistically offended when I'm condescended or treated like property, and while it would be hot if this man talked down to me I would also be inclined to punch him in the baby maker and then we'd all suffer bc no smut would ensue 😭

Sorry, I just dumped a bit of unwarranted baggage on u there but you come off as really sweet in all your posts so I hope it didn't bother you too much! Thank you for all of your posts btw your writing is delicious! Also your English is very good, you have a great grasp of the language and I respect and appreciate all the effort you must put into making all of your writing so articulate. English especially is said to be very hard to learn so I immensely respect the effort that goes into it, regardless of any/how much help you require/accept to do so. Manifesting a mild inconvenience to that anon a while back who accused you of faking for some reason I hope they step on a wet kitchen tile while wearing socks or something and rethink how they choose to speak to people online. 😊♡

hello anon!! thank you so much for your considerations, maybe it is because i am emotional since i get very choked up when it is birthday season but this had made me cry happy tears 😭😭 also, i agree!! if anyone was to talk to me like i am disposable in real life, i think that i would break down and disintegrate haha!! it is not cowardly to ask for things, do not be swayed!! baggage is never unwanted here, i am the baggage 😂!! i will do the upmost of my best ability, as i have been waiting to write for s!mark again 🤭🤭 also, i do agree people should be more mindful about what they say to others! you never know what anyone is going through, just because you can hide behind a screen mask doesn’t mean you should or can be mean to people!! i do not judge those who do though, they will learn as months and years pass, people do learn and change!!

cw: mdni, smut, breeding kink, just a little drable to warm up my fingers hehe!! minor injury, reader patches him up

you could hear your husband come crashing through the juliet balcony of your bedroom, bumping into the bed and waking you up fully. you bolted up, scanning the darkness of the room and staring at the silhouette of your lover, crouched over in the shadows. “mark?” you peep, eyes still adjusting as you clicked on the bedside lamp, your eyes instantly closing when the brightness took you by surprise.

he looks back at you, pulling his mask with its flimsy broken black goggles off of his face and discarding it to the floor with a heavy sigh. mark always found it so cute how you’d gasp with your hands flying to cover your mouth when he returned with an injury, your worried eyes looking him over as you jump out from under the covers, hands flying up to cover his cheeks and observe his cut nose bridge, one of his eyes squinted due to the budding bruise on his upper cheekbone, “gonna nurse me back to health, baby?” he asks, smiling down at you and placing a kiss to your forehead. he listens to you lecture him about being careful when visiting other planets, rolling his eyes like he’d really just die like that. you knew he was tough, but it didn’t hurt to be concerned.

he sits on the side of the bathtub in the bathroom, tilting his face to the side so you could rub his injuries down with antiseptic solution, mumbling something about how he was still half human so he still had to be a little careful. he didn’t know how many times he’d had to tell you that even though he was still half human everything else was 100% brutal alien. each time he told you, you ignored it. maybe you liked patching him up, placing cute bandages on his face to stop his bleeding. he was hardly injured but he’d be damned if he didn’t let his cute little wife dote on him like this, the sleeves of your fluffy gown he’d bought home for you rolled up your arms as you fiddle with the first aid kit.

“y’know what’d me me feel better?” mark says, taking your hands into his. god, he could just crush you right now, you were so adorable. you hum in response, intertwining your fingers with his as he brings them to his lips, trailing kisses up your arm and pulling you closer, inching towards you slowly. your mouth hangs open with a breathless silent mewl as his lips stop just by your jawline, finding it hard to hold himself back from nipping your skin and marking you up. you nod at his earlier question which draws a chuckle from him, hands moving down to grip your hips and pull you onto his lap, “let’s go to bed, then.”

you’ve got your face in the crook of his neck, holding onto his back as he pistoned his hips in and out of your tight heat, never being shameful of your moans. music to his ears, he thought, letting you cry out so desperately into the night. if you had neighbours you’re sure they’d complain. he groaned when he felt you clench around him, muscled thighs stuttering for a moment as you suffocated his cock within your walls. “oh, babygirl-“ he tilts his head back, holding you firmly as your legs wrap around his waist, practically bouncing you up and down on his dick himself, “m-mark..-!” you squeal, voice raspy and throat dry when you feel him buck up into your g-spot, weeping head poking at it repeatedly, trying to pull your orgasm out of you. you whine loudly, holding onto him like you’d fall apart if you let go.

“shhh, s’okay, hold onto me like that, there we go.” mark comforts you, such a strange comparison from when he’s out causing mayhem to now. if those who opposed him were to see him right now, they’d think he’d be a different person. he was so soft with you, treated you like you were made of porcelain and you loved it. you were glad that you’d somehow tamed him in a way, molded him into your perfect husband as he made you into his perfect wife. domestic bliss.

you stifle your noises with his shoulder, softly biting on it as he snapped his hips up into yours vigorously, his own orgasm approaching hard and fast. you could feel the way his cock throbbed inside of you, the way he slowed his hips a little before trying to keep up his pace. “so tight, always so perfect n’ tight f’me, aren’t you?” you nod brainlessly into his shoulder and he coos at you, eyebrows furrowed together as he gasps lightly.

“i’m gonna cum, princess.” he says breathlessly, humping against you for his own orgasm, “inside…” you whisper to him and he almost loses it right there, almost falls over when he thinks about the implications it might have. “inside? yeah-fuck, gonna let me cum inside, just for me?” mark pants, pussydrunk figure caging you in under him as he chases his orgasm, “gimme a kid… f-fuck, gimme a baby, wanna make you a mama… g’na look so perfect— fuh-uck..!” he babbles, vision blanking as he cums inside of you, wave after wave of his warm seed spilling into your cunt, seeping into your womb. he canted his hips a few more times, almost fucking himself into overstimulation as he continued talking, “..gonna give me a mini me, huh? complete our little family?” he asks as you nod in agreement, too fucked out to even process what he’d said to you just now.

[alwaysmicado]

I love your writing, could there possibly be a third instalment of keep you warm please 🥹

cravings

3.4k | Joel Miller x f!reader

post-outbreak, established relationship, pregnancy, smooching Summary: Your pregnancy hormones have you craving three things: figs, coffee, and Joel. He’s more than happy to accommodate you. A/N: Anon, thank you so much for your sweet message!! I'm so happy you liked keep you warm and never felt so loved. Both fics are very special to me, so it means a lot that you connected with them. Enjoy this one and please let me know what you think! 🤍

“Joel.”

You peer at his peaceful face, but his slumbering form remains undisturbed. He seems to be lost in the realm of dreams, showing no signs of stirring.

Undeterred, you lean in a little closer, your lips brushing against his ear as you repeat his name, the warmth of your breath a gentle caress. Still, the subtle symphony of your voice fails to penetrate the fortress of his sleep, especially on the side of his deaf ear.

Realizing your gentle approach might not suffice, you decide on a more direct method. With a hesitant resolve, you extend your hand and give his shoulder a tender shake, hoping to wake him up. 

“Joel,” you say a bit louder, the gentleness of your initial attempts replaced by a touch of urgency.

As Joel finally begins to wake, his eyes flicker open, and his gaze immediately darts to your face. He turns towards you, and his hand instinctively finds its way to your belly. His touch is both tender and firm, as if grounding himself in the reality of the life blossoming within you.

“What’s wrong?” he mumbles, worry evident in his voice. The urgency in his tone reflects the immediate need to ensure your well-being. 

You’re only seven months pregnant; it’s far too early for the baby to arrive. Did he miss any signs that something is wrong with you? You’ve been uncomfortable and you’ve been experiencing horrible back pain for the past few weeks, yes, but besides that, you seemed fine, right?

It’s typical of you to keep quiet and hide your pain from him. What if he wasn’t attentive enough? He shouldn’t have left you alone at home for so long, he should have taken better care of you. This can’t be happening again, please, God–

“Joel,” you interrupt his racing thoughts, sensing the mounting panic radiating off his body. You place a reassuring hand on his warm chest, and the other over his on your bump. “Breathe. It’s okay. The baby’s fine. I’m fine.”

Relief washes over him, but confusion quickly takes over as he notices the glisten of tears on your moonlit cheeks. Concern deepens the furrows on his forehead as he searches your eyes for an explanation.

“What happened, darlin’?” he asks, his voice a gentle murmur, trying his best to remain calm.

“I…I love you so much,” you finally blurt out, your voice breaking. Unable to contain the surge of emotions any longer, you let your tears fall freely. The intensity of your love for him feels overwhelming, almost painful, tonight. You know it’s silly, but you can’t help it.

You need him to know.

Joel blinks, his brain needing a few seconds to register your unexpected declaration of love. As he processes the situation and your words, the realization dawns that the unpredictable currents of pregnancy hormones must have taken hold of you. His expression immediately softens, a hint of amusement replacing his initial confusion.

“Well, now ain’t that a sweet thing to wake me up for.”

You sniffle, feeling a bit offended by his nonchalant response.

“Joel, I’m serious. It–it hurts, you know? My heart feels like it’s going to burst with love for you and I feel like I’m gonna die if I can’t get you to understand how much I love you. Please tell me you understand and–and that you know and will never forget? Please?”

Your voice breaks again as your big, watery eyes pierce Joel’s soul. He sits up, his face softening further as he realizes the depth of your feelings.

“C’mere,” he says, pulling you into his arms. You rest your head against his chest as his hand rubs soothing circles on your back. 

“I understand, sweetheart,” he murmurs against the crown of your head. “I know how much you love me, even though I need to pinch myself sometimes to make sure I’m not dreamin’.” He gently strokes the back of your head. “Why such a wonderful person like you would love a grumpy old man like me is beyond me, but I’ve accepted it a long time ago. I know you do, darlin’. You can be sure of that.”

Your gratitude echoes in a soft “thank you” against his warm chest, the emotional weight on your shoulders lifting slightly as you try to steady your breathing. Sitting up next to him, you turn to meet his dark, alert eyes, your vulnerability laid bare.

“I just…what is wrong with me? I’ve never been this emotional. It’s exhausting and it sucks so bad,” you admit, a hint of frustration coloring your words. You look into his eyes, seeking understanding and reassurance.

“I know I probably sound like a crazy person, but I honestly don’t know what to do with all this love for you. It’s like it’s too much for me. And…I don’t wanna freak you out or be too clingy, you know, I’m really trying to give you space, I am. It’s just too much right now and I feel so lost and scared that you don’t actually, fully understand what you mean to me. And–and it’s breaking my heart.” 

You’re gesticulating wildly, hiccups occasionally disturbing your stream of consciousness. 

“Sweetheart,” Joel chuckles as he takes your hands into his. “It’s alright, I promise. Too much love? I’m pretty sure that’s a problem most folks would like to have.”

You give him a playful glare, though your eyes are still damp. “You’re not taking me seriously.”

He shakes his head, cupping your tear-streaked face in his hands. “I am, darlin’, I am. I know how much you love me. I can feel it every day.” He gently rubs your cheeks with his thumbs. “But maybe, just maybe, the pregnancy hormones are playin’ a little trick on you tonight. They can make everything feel like it’s a hundred times more intense. But you ain’t crazy, and there’s nothin’ wrong with you,” he assures you with a soft smile. 

You huff a laugh, despite your emotional state. “It’s not a trick, Joel. I really, really love you.”

He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “And I love you too, sweetheart, more than words can say. And about bein’ too clingy? Forget that immediately. You know I like havin’ you close.” He kisses both of your wet cheeks with his warm lips, sending a tingling sensation down your spine. “Ain’t no such thing as too much love, especially when it comes from you.”

His words carry a sincerity that resonates in your bedroom, and the corners of his lips curl into a teasing grin. “But, sweetheart, I gotta admit, I’m flattered. Never thought little ole me would have someone as lovely as you worryin’ so much about his heart.” 

A deep sigh escapes you as his lips find the sensitive skin of your neck, his hands delicately tracing the curve of your swelling belly. His words, a whispered acknowledgment of the warmth you bring to his life, stir a tender emotion within you.

“You’ve got a real knack for makin’ a man feel special, you know that?” 

Your eyes flutter closed, surrendering to the sensations of Joel’s touch, and a soft hum escapes your lips, your breath quickening with anticipation. In a barely audible whisper, you express your need for him, the desire between you two growing with each passing moment. The air becomes charged with an electric energy, and as your hand moves down his belly, the mutual longing intensifies to a fever pitch.

Joel, unable to resist the urge to have you, pulls you onto his lap, his arms enveloping you, drawing you close. The hunger that has been simmering throughout the day is unleashed in a passionate kiss that conveys the overwhelming depth of your craving for this man. Clothes are shed in a frenzy, the urgency of the moment fueled by a shared longing that borders on painful.

“Let me show you how much I love you, darlin’,” he whispers against your lips, his hands exploring your body with an intensity that mirrors the fervor of your own desire. “I promise you’ll be able to sleep after.”

– – –

The next morning arrives with the soft glow of dawn, casting gentle shadows across the room. As you slowly awaken, the enticing aroma of freshly brewed coffee tickles your senses. Joel, ever considerate of your morning routine, has prepared enough of it for you to savor as soon as you rise.

With sleepy eyes, you make your way to the kitchen, where the rich scent of the precious beverage beckons. Joel’s thoughtful gesture warms your heart, and you can’t help but smile at the simple yet meaningful act of love.

“Have I ever told you that your dad is the best?” you ask your baby, rubbing soft circles on your belly. “He would always let me have some of his coffee when we were on the road because he knew how much I liked it. Even before we fell in love. And now that you’re making me have all of these wonderful cravings, he’s making sure I get my cup every single day. Isn’t that nice?”

As you take that first sip, the warmth of the coffee spreads through you, dispelling the remnants of sleep. The familiar flavor grounds you, letting you forget your aching body and anxious mind for a minute.

“What are you in the mood for, little one? Apart from kicking me and pressing on my bladder, of course.” You smile to yourself and watch the snowflakes dancing outside the window. “I think a stroll to the greenhouse sounds nice, hm? Maybe they have new vegetables or fruits we can try. I’m still dreaming about that fig your dad brought us a few months ago, you know? You were still tiny back then, but I think you must’ve liked it.” 

You’ve repeatedly woken up from vivid dreams of eating the luscious fruit, felt the juice running down your chin, only to—very disappointedly—realize that you’d been sucking on your pillow instead.

You sigh and drink the rest of your coffee in silence before getting ready, putting on your oversized winter coat, your wooly hat, and your boots. All gifts from Maria. Maybe you could visit her today, too. You’ve been trying to make an effort to get to know her and Tommy better, after all. For Joel, mostly, but you must admit that they’ve grown on you as people — as family.

The greenhouse stands as a haven of life amid the chilly winter air. As you step inside, a wave of warmth embraces you, accompanied by the vibrant hues of thriving plants. The scent of earth and greenery fills the air, and you can’t help but marvel at the array of vegetables and fruits flourishing under the community’s care.

Maria, noticing your presence, looks up from her gardening tasks with a warm smile. “Well, look who’s here! It’s been a while. How are you feeling, sweetheart?” she greets you, wiping her hands on a cloth.

You return Maria’s smile, grateful for her welcoming demeanor. “I’m doing okay, thank you for asking,” you say as you take off your thick coat. “The baby’s been quite active lately. She even kicked so hard a few nights ago that she woke Joel up. He was so freaked out,” you chuckle, remembering Joel’s shocked face. “We honestly can’t wait to meet her.”

“That’s wonderful to hear,” Maria says, guiding you through the rows of flourishing plants. “Being surrounded by all this life does wonders for the soul, doesn’t it?”

You nod, taking in the sight of tomatoes, cucumbers, and various herbs thriving under the controlled environment. “It’s amazing what you’ve created here, Maria. I would love to help out as soon as I can do physical labor again. I’ve always loved looking after living things, especially animals or plants. I’m still getting used to the idea of a little human.” 

Maria chuckles, her eyes filled with warmth. “It’s a big change, but it’s a beautiful one. It’s like…finding a piece of yourself you didn’t know was missing. And then suddenly, you’re whole, and it all makes sense. You realize that all you’ve done has led you to this perfect little being, and you’ll feel love you didn’t even know you were capable of feeling. It’s, uh, it’s amazing.”

She gives you a sympathetic smile as she notices your tears. “Sorry,” you mumble, wiping them away with the sleeve of your shirt. “I’ve been so emotional lately. It’s so embarrassing.”

“No need to apologize, sweetheart. Now, what brings you here today? Just checking out our little green corner?”

“Well, I’ve actually developed a little bit of a craving for figs, and I thought I’d see for myself if you have some here.”

Maria’s expression turns apologetic. “Ah, about that…we had some figs earlier in the season, but they’ve been picked already. I’m afraid there aren’t any left.”

You furrow your brow, unable to hide your disappointment. “Oh, that’s a shame. I was really hoping to get some. Maybe next season, then.”

Maria pats your shoulder sympathetically, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “I’m sorry, dear. I remember the irresistible cravings I had with my son. I wanted cheeseburgers and chocolate, nothing else. It got so bad at some point that I’d keep chocolate bars hidden in my desk at work.”

She laughs and you smile at her, thankful that she’s sharing such a personal part of her past with you. “But hey, how about I send Tommy out to check the storage? We might have some preserved ones left. Not as good as fresh, but it’s something.”

You appreciate her thoughtfulness, “That would be wonderful, Maria. Thank you. And, well, even without figs, being here and seeing all of this…it’s really comforting.”

“Anytime, sweetheart,” Maria smiles at you. “This greenhouse is a sanctuary for all of us. And you, my dear—my dears, are always welcome here.”

– – –

The soft hum of your voice fills the cozy kitchen as you chop vegetables with honed precision. The scent of fresh produce lingers in the air, intermingling with the delicious aroma of bread and the subtle hint of bacon from the fridge. Maria’s precious gifts have transformed your modest kitchen into a haven of warmth and abundance.

As you lose yourself in the meditative act of cooking, the front door creaks open, and the familiar, comforting presence of Joel announces his return from patrol. A smile tugs at your lips, anticipation and joy bubbling within you. Before you can turn around, strong arms wrap around you from behind, and Joel’s beard tickles your neck as he presses a gentle kiss on your skin.

“Hey there, beautiful,” he murmurs, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “Miss me?”

“Always,” you reply, setting down the knife to lean back into his embrace. The scent of leather, gunpowder, and…Joel envelops you, a fragrance that feels like home. His deep chuckle reverberates through his chest, and you revel in the simple pleasure of being close to him.

“Is that so?” he murmurs against your neck between kisses, his hands caressing your belly.

“Mmm, always.”

“I should probably shower first,” he whispers in your ear, but you turn around in his arms and protest with a playful pout.

“No, I love how you smell after patrol,” you confess, earning another chuckle from him. “It reminds me of how you smelled when we met, you know. It, uh, it makes me feel at home.” 

Joel tightens his grip around you, his laughter turning into a soft hum of contentment. He leans in for a tender kiss, squeezing your sides affectionately before flattening his hands over your spine. You inhale deeply, savoring his comforting scent, and relish the warmth of his touch.

When you open your eyes again, you find Joel looking at you expectantly, one eyebrow raised. With a sigh and a playful roll of your eyes, you relent, begrudgingly agreeing that he can go take a quick shower. He smiles at your response, promises to be back shortly, kisses you on the cheek, and heads to the bathroom.

In his absence, you continue preparing dinner, the rhythmic sounds of chopping and sizzling creating a soothing backdrop.

“You’re gonna love this stew,” you whisper to your baby, a gentle smile playing on your lips. “Your dad taught me how to make it. He would always cook it for your sister before the outbreak, you know. It’s a family recipe.”

You sigh, your hand gently rubbing your belly as you imagine a younger Joel standing at the stove, giving little Sarah the spoon to taste the stew.

How you wish the world hadn’t been so cruel to them. 

Joel returns in fresh clothes, his damp hair combed back, the scent of soap lingering in the air. For a brief moment, he stands there, simply looking at you, his expression one of admiration and love for you and the life you two created. You glance over your shoulder, catching his eye.

“Hey there, handsome,” you say, and he steps closer, his arms enveloping you in a warm embrace. His fingers trace delicate patterns on your back, creating a comforting rhythm that matches the steady beat of your heart.

“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he says, his voice a low murmur filled with warmth. “I’ve seen a lot in my life, but nothin’ comes close to your beauty.” He leans in and presses a lingering kiss on your cheek.

“And I’m not just sayin’ that because you’re carryin’ my baby…even though I’d be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t very much enjoyin’ this,” he murmurs into your ear, his warm hands wandering up your belly. “And these,” he goes on between nibbles on your earlobe as his hands find your breasts, “these are just an added bonus to the beauty you already possess.”

You moan softly and pull him into an urgent kiss as you can’t resist your craving for Joel any longer.

“We got twenty minutes,” you whisper against his lips as your fingers fumble with the button of his jeans. 

“I can work with that,” he grins.

– – –  

After a filling dinner, exhaustion slowly begins to settle in, and you find solace on the couch. Joel, ever attentive, sits beside you, offering a gentle foot massage to ease the day’s strain. Wrapped in the cozy blanket he knit for you, the tender gesture elicits a contented sigh from you. 

He looks into your bleary eyes, searching for something more, something unspoken. “You sure there’s nothin’ else I can do for you, darlin’?” he asks, his voice soft but probing. 

You give him a tired smile. “I’ve got everything I need right here, Joel. Thank you.”

“Hmm, that’s a shame,” he murmurs, mischief dancing in his eyes. “I got all these figs from Tommy, but if you don’t want them, I’ll give them ba–”

“Wait, you got figs?” Your eyes light up with pure excitement as you swiftly sit up on your elbows, genuine joy bubbling in your voice.

“Yeah,” Joel chuckles, giving your feet a gentle squeeze before getting up. “I’ll be back in a minute, sweetheart.” 

He returns with a plate filled with halved figs, and your heart skips a beat at the sight.

“This,” he says, offering you one of the fruits, “is for you, my love.” Gently, he brings it to your lips, and the taste is nothing short of pure bliss. You can’t help but beam at him, overflowing with love and gratitude.

“These are amazing,” you say between bites, savoring each moment. “They’re even better than in my dreams.”

You urge Joel to join in, sharing the figs with him like you’ve shared everything in your lives since he found you all this time ago. As you enjoy the sweet fruit together, your baby begins to kick, and you burst into laughter.

“Looks like you’ve made our little one very happy,” you say, placing Joel’s hand on your belly so he can feel. Joel grins, his eyes sparkling with affection.

“Well, little one, I’m glad I could make you and your mommy happy. It’s what you do for the people you love, you know?” He leans down, his lips brushing against your belly. “You hear that, kiddo? I love you, and I love your mommy. And that’s why I’ll always be here for you two, doin’ my best to make you happy.”

– – –

Thank you for reading!! 🤍 -> keep you warm -> never felt so loved -> masterlist

[pretty-little-mind33]

James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: James is the best boyfriend while you're sick.

Genre: Fluffy <3

Warnings: having a cold, germs, mentions of being contagious? really none lmao i'm just over cautious

~ for my lovely 🍓anon! enjoy! ~

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

You're convinced you're dying and no matter how much your boyfriend promises you you're not, you still feel miserable.

"No, no," you shake your head, your nose running obnoxiously as you blow into another tissue—you could start a whole collection by now. "you don't u-understand. My body is crumbling as we speak," you tell him as you're curled up in your bed, under a bunch of blankets and wearing James's warmest and favorite sweatshirt.

James sits by you, one hand pressed against your forehead and he frowns, suppressing a small smile. "Is that so? Guess I'll have to glue you back together again then," he hums softly. 

Your eyes narrow and then you cough loudly, your throat hoarse, "You aren't funny."

James feigns hurt. "Ouch," he strokes your hairline with his thumb, looking at you fondly, and then gives in as his eyes soften. "I'm sorry. I can feel you burning up, I know you must feel very ill, hm?" 

You nod, sitting up against the pillows as you cough again. The sound sounds horrible. James leans closer, his expression morphing into concern. Your eyes widen as guilt dawns on you and you panic, pulling away from him. 

"Jamie, no, I'll contaminate you!" you practically shriek.

James raises an eyebrow in amusement. "Contaminate me? Darling, you aren't diseased." 

You sniffle and whisper, "You don't know that." 

James can't help himself. He laughs, and the sound is a beautiful melody as he shakes his head. Still, he listens and pulls away from you. He sits back and thinks for a moment. "I'm gonna run to the store and grab you some things okay, I don't think this cold will disappear on its own, lovely."

You sniffle again, feeling sorry for yourself as you prepare to blow into another tissue. "If you leave me now, I'll surely perish," you state quite dramatically as James stands. He sends you a look as if to say be serious, his dark curls falling before his eyes.

You sniff, sending him a look in return as if to say, I am serious and James just leans over to kiss your forehead and then press another sloppy kiss on your cheek. 

"James!" You exclaim as he kisses you, alarmed.

"If I'm sick, I'm sick," he states seriously, gently cradling your chin as he strokes your skin carefully. "A silly little cold isn't gonna dictate when I can or can't kiss my darling girlfriend."

Your chest loosens at this and you feel a sense of warmth and relief at his words. You want to protest and tell him he's putting himself in harm's way for no reason. But, instead, you relish in the feeling of his lips on your skin and you sink into the pillows as you wait for his return. 

When he does return, you rouse from your small nap and let out a weak cough. Your eyes are bleary as you blink them furiously. "Oh, sweets, have I woken you?" he says in the sweetest voice you've ever heard and you almost melt.

You sit up and rub your eyes as James sits beside you again, resting the glass of water he'd brought in on the bedside table, and then drops the brown paper bag near your hip. He rummages inside and lays out an array of medicine, candies, and almost four boxes of tissues.

Having been feeling a little better from your sleep, you joke, "I'm not dying, am I?"

James chuckles and hands you some medicine for you. You swallow it reluctantly, pouting up at your boyfriend. He rests his hand on your forehead again, smiling.

"No, you aren't dying," he whispers, "far from it. Your temperature seems to have gone down, which is really good."

You nod, still tired as you reach for James's other hand and play with his fingers. "Can you make me some tea?" you ask bashfully. 

James frowns, smiling a little as his fingers gently pinch your cheek. "Of course, love. Don't be embarrassed. I'd move the moon for you."

You cough again, the sound much lighter already. "Kinds dramatic, no?" you whisper.

"No. Not really. It's all true," James pauses, his voice turning serious, "for you, I'd do absolutely anything." He kisses your forehead again, and this time you don't even want to protest. 

tags: @mischievousmoony, @sayitlikethecheese, @longlivedelusion, @fangirl-swagg, @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader, @fruticake

[corvidae-00]

Joost Klein x drunk!reader in the club🎉🎉🥳 (but she’s like messy drunk and probably needs to be cut off)

A/n: MY FIRST REQUEST 😭😭 THANK YOU ANON! I had tons of fun writing this for you! I hope you like it 😭

CW: weed, drinking, throwing up, swearing, clubbing, LET ME KNOW IF I MISS ANYTHING!!!!!

Word count: 1,297

Getting drunk was something that wasn't the norm for you, not that you didn't drink but you always were lenient at getting DRUNK. But it was a good night, Your boyfriend and his group had just finished a concert that went super well and with adrenaline and energy still high everyone decided the night club was a good location to let loose and enjoy the rest of the night while its young. You of course decided to let loose a little- just a little tonight seeing as your boyfriend Joost was so ecstatic and you had so much energy from being in the crowd who was loud and very very expressive tonight. The club was surprisingly packed and that just added to the excitement even more. “We are going to have a good night, yes?’ your boyfriend whispered into your ear leaning down and kissing your cheek with a smile “of course” you reach back to run your fingers through his hair that was still damp from the many water bottles he had poured over himself to cool down. He shudders and sighs into your ear before standing up and stretching a little looking over at his friends and back over at you sliding you his card from his wallet “Get yourself something to drink- i might lay off the alcohol tonight-” he thinks to himself deciding a few cigarettes and maybe a joint or two sounded a lot better than getting drunk and dealing with a hangover ontop of exhaustion the next morning “then come meet us over there-” he points over at a little less crowded part of the club “maybe me and you can test the dance floor” Joost winks leaning down to kiss both your cheeks which you accepted before catching his lips in a quick kiss “Ill be over in a second” You hummed “Save me a seat-” you requested stepping back towards the crowded bar. Joost smirks and pats his thigh with a wink “you always have one if you ask” He purrs and you can feel your face flush before waving him off “go sit down” You chuckle before turning on your heel going towards the bar ignoring the cat call your boyfriend sends your way but you cant ignore the small smile and a laugh making its way up your throat.

You dont actually know what happened. One drink turned into two before you could stop and then three- you knew you were supposed to go back to meet up with Joost and your friend but the drink you randomly picked out was just- so good- and before you could even step away you had finished the glass and got another. Clearly the alcohol in the drink was a lot stronger than what you were used too as you began to get fuzzy and eager for the next drink- the bartender not realizing how quickly your tolerance was dwindling- and you were also admittedly not aware of how quickly your once steady standing turned unsteady and how quickly vomiting sounded pretty nice, on your 8th glass you ended up leaning on the counter to support yourself drunkenly singing along to the fast paced dutch song blasting out of the stereos at the head of the club- the people around you joining in on your own little concert you didn't even realize was pretty loud. Ordering another drink unable to even lift your arm without feeling tingly or nauseous you felt a hand grab your shoulder “I have a boyfriend you fuck-” You whip your head around and look at the chest that greets you “Ugh men-” You slur and look up at concerned blue eyes “ shit schat- your fucking hammered” Joost mutters smelling the sweet alcoholic drink on your breath “How much did you have?” he questions a little worried as you blink and then giggle a little “You are so hot-” you mutter falling into his arms a little “how did i bag a beauty like youuuu~” you giggle running your fingers over his shoulders and Joost wraps his arms around your waist to support your unsteady weight “so warm” You flutter your eyelashes at him closing your eyes and humming in content “You are drunk” Joost hums smiling down at you a little “How did you get so drunk- i leave you alone for a few minutes” He raises a brow not an ounce of anger or disappointment in his voice- if anything he is amused- you dont ever get drunk so what was different today? Joost reaches behind you grabbing your half drank beverage and taking a swig surprised at the intensity of the Alcohol count “Holy shit-” He blinks and looks down at you “i didnt know you were that hardcore” He laughs dodging your hands which are now trying to touch his face in sheer admiration “it’s nuuthing” you giggle out running your fingers through his hair “mmsoft” you chuckle letting Joost gently pull you away from the bar after confirming with the tender the bill was payed not worried about the expenses. Joost tugs you along letting you drag your feet every now and again not too worried about how heavy you were as you werent heavy at all to him, just a cute bundle of drunken mumblings and yelling at women who even look at Joost- threatening to fight them outside even if you couldnt stand by yourself- your threats or reasonings for being mad not even making sense and thus causing your blonde boyfriend to sheepishly wave and look down at you with slight amusement. Once outside Joost lets you get some fresh air, the club too stuffy and heavy to even think straight let alone feel better after getting hammered. “I dont feel good” you finally slur out hanging your head in defeat “i dont doubt it mijn liefje” he whispers to you rubbing your back before quickly pulling your hair up letting you throw up the insane amount of alcohol in your body. Joost winces and rubs your back with his free hand. You blink slowly once you are able to stand up straight, “Ugh” you groan out holding your head and Joost takes out some napkins he had in his back pocket to wipe your mouth and shake his head “we should get you back to the apartment” Joost offers and you pout “But the night is still younggg” you whine and joost takes your arm wrapping it over his shoulders careful to lean down so he doesnt hurt or stretch your arm out “theres always another night” He hums to you and starts leading you away towards your shared home careful and slow listening to your slurred complaints and compliments mixed in always something about how wonderful his hair looks or how special he is to her.

When they get home Joost is quick to lay you down in the bed and get your shoes off and changing your flimsy drunk figure into a pair of soft pajamas. He kisses your cheek and laughs softly “you are so cute” He admits standing up straight “No you are” You retaliate looking up at him and giggling. Joost quickly leaves the room and comes back with a glass of cold water and sets it down on the night stand before climbing into bed with you discarding his shirt and scooping you towards him. “Feeling any better?” he questions running his fingers through your hair “jus a lil” you mumble snuggling yourself into him the room spinning slightly “Thats okay, ill take care of you tomorrow” Joost hums leaning over and turning the lamp off “Just take it easy” He kisses your forehead “and next time there is alcohol im monitoring you” He jokes laughing at your groans of disagreement

Dutch meaning: schat- babe. Mijn liefje- my darling

A/n: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE ON MY FIRST JOOST FIC!!! Keep the requests coming!!! I love writing for this man

[sacharinee]

pranking peter asking him to try not to annoy you today has me crying

pairing: bf!peter parker x reader

w/c: 600

a/n: hiii anon thank u very much for requesting! based on that trend on tiktok :)

you’re feeling mean today.

after waking up so early, you’ve scrolled through countless videos of girls pranking their boyfriends with just a simple line, and seeing their priceless reactions.

and what better use of your time than to prank your ever so lovely boyfriend.

you’re up in the bathroom, washing your face and getting your makeup done for the day when peter walks in to greet you.

“g’morning baby,” he mumbles and wraps an arm around the side of your hip, sloppily kissing the side of your forehead.

you take a look at him through the mirror. he’s got bedhead, his curly hair all messy, shirt wrinkled, and he’s rubbing his squinty eyes from the bright lights. his cute little pout makes your heart skip a beat and you almost feel bad for what you’re about to do. 

“hi petey,” you greet, you’ve got your brush in one hand, blending out the makeup on your skin.

and he’s reaching for his toothbrush, squirting some toothpaste on when he asks you, “d’you sleep good?”

“it was okay,” you respond with a shrug.

“just okay? what happened, y/n/n?" he asks, his voiced laced with concern.

you tap your fingernails on the countertop as you take a deep breath, “look, pete, i have a big day ahead, so can you just try not to annoy me today please?”

peter freezes as his jaw goes slack with the toothbrush in his mouth. his eyes stare up at you in shock and confusion while you’re none the wiser, looking straight ahead, curling your lashes up closely against the mirror, “what’d you say?”

you let out a sigh as you switch out the curler for mascara, “i said, try not to get on my nerves today.”

"today? but the day just started," he's dumbfounded when he looks at you.

you shrug in response, "still. you've been really annoying lately."

you resist from looking at peter. one quick glance and you know you would break.

“oh…” the boy mumbles, looking down at the sink confused, trying so hard to figure out where he went wrong, “m’ sorry.” you feel like a monster.

but when peter steps back to sneak a peek at you, he notices your uncomfortable stance. you’re squeamish, biting your lip, as you avoid eye contact with him. 

his eyes narrow down at your figure, “and how exactly have i annoyed you lately?”

you take a second to think of a example, “just, everything. like right now, when you ruined my makeup or when you’re asking me stupid questions.”

“stupid questions? ruined your makeup? wait, what, you mean when i kissed you good morning??” your boyfriend laughs in amusement. 

“m’ just saying.” 

“huh okay,” peter spits the toothpaste out in the sink, “you wanna talk about silly questions?" he wipes his mouth with a rag and turns towards you, gets up real close to the side of your face.

you pinch your brows towards him, “what are you-”

“who was the one that asked me if italy was in spain?”

“peter-”

“or if milan was in germany?”

“are you ser-”

“or if australia and austria were the same thing?”

“peter!”

“i’m just saying!” he’s mocking you, a smug smirk on his face, and he knows he’s got you.

“yea whatever, einstein,” you bump him out of the way wanting to use the mirror next. you’re crabby your little prank backfired while peter’s having the time of his life, laughing at your embarrassment. 

he stands behind you wrapping his big arms around your front and resting his chin down on your shoulder. he’s got this irritating sardonically sweet smile on his face that makes you wanna kiss or slap it off, you can’t decide. he’s gazing with loving eyes at you’re adorably grumpy pout in the mirror and kissing the side of face, smudging your makeup once more.

“it’s okay baby, you can get on my nerves all you want.”

[simpjaes]

req by 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 anon: im also back on my enhypen with two girls bullshit and today’s thought, featuring frat jake, is playing something like truth or dare at a party (i know, i know 😭) and he dares you to make out with jay’s girl .. i don’t mean to make him look like a weirdo but i have the feeling he’d like to watch (like… i think he’d be into lesbian porn….) 🤕

wc: 1k

tags: perv frat jake (definitely likes the idea of watching two women, it's fiction so he's allowed to be weird here on simpjaes), cuck-ish jay, drunk truth or dare, detailed descriptions of making out with a hot nameless girl, implied further sexual gameplay.

"Truth or dare?" Jake is practically crawling in his skin at this point, having hyped himself up for the past ten minutes in game waiting for the questions and dares to become just flirty enough that he doesn't look like the weird one.

After all, it's a fucking frat party. No one is playing truth or dare without the idea of someone either getting naked or fucking at some point by the end of it. At least when all sexes are involved anyway.

And he's looking at you when he asks. You smile mischievously, the alcohol in your system buzzing to the point you feel warm, confident, social, and fucking giddy at playing this game with him.

It's the first time you've been personally invited to one of these infamous frat parties too. Always hearing about the crazy nights and insane antics people get up to in this very house. You weren't exactly expecting to be in what you presume to be Jake's room with one of the other frat guys and his girlfriend either.

Still, in your drunken state, you feel flirty and excited to finally be invited. After weeks of small talk with Jake, you were starting to think he was just being nice. Until you were invited anyway. Until you noticed him sharing consistent side-eyes with his frat brother.

"Dare." You announce boldly, tipping back your cup and finishing off the drink before grabbing at Jakes. He happily lends you his cup while simultaneously stealing Jay's instead.

"Dick." Jay scoffs, tapping his girl's leg and pushing her from his lap (previous dare). "Gonna grab a few bottles before the game gets good," Jay continues, looking Jake square in the eye with a smirk. "Any requests?"

You, Jake, and Jay's girlfriend all offer up a "anything strong" before Jay sees himself out. Only for a moment, you suspect.

And when the door is closed and Jake is sitting, staring at two pretty drunk girls, all he can do is beam that charming ass smile at you before chuckling.

Jay would definitely be annoyed that he's not gonna wait for him to get back, but whatever. "Dare, you say?" Jake says in a half-hearted voice of concern. "You sure?"

You nod happily, sipping the last of the stolen drink and looking to your new friend, Jay's girl.

"Make out." Jake drops the words on you like it's nothing at all to be shocked at. And in a way, it's really not.

Again, frat party, drinks, whatever.

"With who?" You ask, silently and excitedly preparing yourself for him to present himself to you by tapping his lap or something much like Jay did previously for his girl.

But, well, you're not Jake's girl. As much as you'd very much like to be the arm candy of the most charming frat boy you've ever met. And he's not presenting himself.

You watch as his eyes shift from you to her. Back and force twice before that charming smile turns into a bottom-lip tugged between his teach.

"With each other. Make out." You look to her with a smile, entirely willing to put on a show considering she's very pretty. If she's down, so are you. And not entirely for the pleasure of Jake, or anyone else for that matter. Her lips are pretty, and her voice is tender. Quite cute when you watch her, drunk out of her mind but still entirely sweet like candy. She lends you a nod, cheeks flushing but licking her lips all the while as if to gloss them up for you. And so, you do, crawling across the floor of Jake's bedroom just to brace your hands on her shoulders and lean in to kiss her square on the lips. Her eyes beam up at you when you pull back with a cheeky smile, only to dip back in once more, twice more, and then you slide your hands to her jaw on either side of her face and really get in there.

Licking into her mouth, feeling her hands grip your waist and wildly run up and down up until she's blatantly grabbing your ass as she kisses you back with those sweet-alcohol tasting kisses.

"Holy shit." Jay's voice echoes through your ringing ears as you kiss his girlfriend, but you don't stop. Especially when she chuckles into the kiss and only pulls you closer, into her lap by the ass as she skews her head to kiss deeper.

"Check that shit out." Jake says, breath caught in his throat because truly, no matter how many times he sees two girls do this kind of thing in front of him, he can't fucking help himself. "Fuck yeah."

It's so hot for him to see two pretty girls, all breathless with their wet lips and pussies sitting so close together. Damn. Who care's if it's Jay's girlfriend? By the looks of it, Jay seems entirely into it too. And for a minute, you almost forgot that this was a dare. So, you pull back with a gentle smile at her. Landing one more kiss to her nose before scooting back and off of her lap. She looks at you through dark eyes after the act. As if the two of you are no longer just acquaintances, and you choose to take note of that for later. Surely you'll be seeing her again. Only after you've sat back and grabbed a new drink did you take note of the two men in the room. Jay appears to be a bit more touchy with his girlfriend now, you watch him pinch and pull at her with a drunken smile and little hidden whispers before you turn your attention to Jake.

God, you've heard of how fun the guy is. But fucking hell he's shameless. You see the bulge in his pants and the way he spreads his legs out wide with that smile on his face. Only briefly do you note the way he lays his hand across his lap, gently rubbing his knuckles along the length of his hidden cock before he speaks with a new voice.

"Come, sit." He croaks, voice deeper and almost velvety as he uses that same hand to tap his lap. "It's your turn babe, make it good." He follows up after you do exactly as he says, right against your ear, breath fanning your neck. And you can feel the way he intentionally twitches under your ass as a form of encouragement. And of course, you do make the next round even better than the last.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Hey I seen you’re asking for some Eddie requests. I was wondering if I could request something really angsty where Eddie chooses someone else over reader (can be a happy ending or not) but I just want to hurt think I need it out my system 😂 please and thank you

Request by anon.

Angsty but with a happy ending (for reader)

♥️

The heartache you felt was like nothing else, you had thought that Eddie was interested in you, that there was a possibility the two of you might start dating.

Truly you had thought that the flirting between the two of you meant something more. Yet it didn't.

Instead of asking you on a date, Eddie had chosen to date Louise King.

In truth, you didn't even find out until school on Monday, the school was abuzz sigh gossip and your best friend Tina told you.

"Oh my god, did you hear about Louise and Eddie, she hooked up with the freak at Jason's party and they are together now. Like together together" her eyes light up with the absolute scandal of it all while you felt like your heart was being stamped on.

"What?" you whisper but Tina doesn't hear you and instead focuses on gossiping with Anna. You feel nauseated and decide to go and find Eddie, you don't have to look far, Louise is hanging off him like a limpet, she's all giggly and hyper.

"Uh, can we talk for a second Eddie. Um about our class project?" you didn't have one but it's the only way you figured you could speak to him.

Fortunately, he takes the hint and removes himself from Louise, he follows you to a more secluded area and you peer up at him confused.

"What's going on Eddie, I thought that you might have asked me out, that we had a spark but now I come to school and you're dating Louise?" you murmur and Eddie's eyes flicker with something you can't place before his face turns smooth and impassive.

"Yeah. Well, you thought wrong sweetheart, I'm not interested in you and never have been" he's so cold as he says this and you blink back tears.

"Right. So instead of telling me this, you lead me on and let me flirt with you like a fool to what? Stroke your ego? You're an asshole Eddie Munson. Exactly like Jason except he wouldn't even do this" you see the flash of hurt in his eyes but don't care and walk away from him.

Tough shit.

Finally, the tears fall freely.

❤️

After avoiding Eddie and Louise all day you head out of school in a rush to get home. Your heart is still aching and you just want to crawl in bed and cry everything out.

In your rush to get away, you stumble and drop your notes from class, wipe the tears away from your eyes and try to pick them all up. Fuck, stupid notes, stupid Eddie.

Someone helps you gather them all, you see tanned hands gather them quickly and when you peer up Steve is smiling at you. Oh... you smile shyly at him and say thanks.

"No problem honey, hey did you watch that movie last week that I recommended? Back to the future is a superior film" you giggle and shake your head.

"No, not yet" You swear that you can feel eyes on you but when you turn around no one is there.

Weird.

Steve is sweet and very flirty, actually flirting with you and making you laugh. It's a nice feeling after today and maybe things eventually might be okay?

Steve offers to drive you home and you nod still smiling. "Hey, you been crying?" he asks concerned and you shrug.

"Just thought this guy liked me. Turned out I was very wrong" The pain hits you again but you manage to ignore it. Steve frowns at this.

"Well then he's a dickhead and not worth your time, hey you wanna hang with me and Robin today?" Yes, yes you really would.

As you're leaving you don't notice Eddie leaning up against the wall and watching you and Steve leave together.

Even if you did well why should you care? Eddie made his bed so he would just have to lie in it.

❤️

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Kicking

Summary: The past few weeks of your pregnancy, Baby Peña number 2 has been kicking you non-stop. Javi tries his best to help you relax and give you some relief.

Word Count: 3.4K

Pairing: Dad!Javier Peña x Wife!reader (Reader's nickname is Osita, no use of y/n)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) unprotected p in v sex, pregnancy sex, vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving) creampie, praise kink, breeding kink (give this man a football team), pregnancy hormones, Javi being the best dad/husband (idk what to tell you guys, he is truly the best)

A/N: This was inspired by an ask I got from an anon a while back, and the Dad!Javi brainrot has been unstoppable the past few days and I missed our sweet little family so here we are again 🤪 I love the Peña's more than life itself!!! Thank you @endlessthxxghts for proofreading and letting me harass you with my endless Dad!Javi thots ILY 😩💕

Series Masterlist Never Too Late Masterlist

“Ouch, that one hurt. You are relentless, aren’t you?” You whispered down to your belly, setting down the dishes you were washing down next to the sink as you rubbed at your slowly swelling stomach. While you had very quickly remembered all the strange and painful sensations of growing a tiny human inside you throughout your second pregnancy, baby number two was definitely giving you a run for your money. Lucy had been easy- The occasional kick or bump, her movement enough to make you feel relieved and excited, but never enough to make you feel miserable. Even though you were still only 6 months pregnant, you were convinced that Baby Two was going to come out as a triple threat soccer star, football kicker and boxer, because their movement day in and day out for the last few weeks had been constant. 

“You okay, Hermosa?” With your daughter Lucy hoisted on his hip, Javi paused from helping you to put away the rest of the dishes to turn around towards you, his brow scrunching in concern at the pained look growing across your face as you rested your hand on your stomach. 

“Otay Mommy?” Lucy asked, mimicking Javi, making the two of you let out a little laugh, enough to ease you back to washing the dishes you had set down before Baby Peña had started their 15th boxing round of the day in your stomach. 

“I’m okay.” You smiled up at Javi, who had made his way behind you, wrapping his free arm around your waist as you stood at the sink, still holding Lucy in the other. “Baby Tutu really likes to kick Mommy’s belly a lot.” You sighed, responding to your daughter, even though the comment was more intended for Javi. 

“Baby Tutu!” Lucy beamed at the new nickname she had given her baby sibling, after you and Javi had been referring to them as “Baby Two”, which had quickly turned into “Baby Tutu”, after Lucy had begun babbling it around the house. 

Javi frowned, rubbing his hand along the small of your back before leaning down to kiss you on the forehead, feeling guilty at how uncomfortable you had been recently, despite how hard you had tried to power through it. “Mama and Baby Tutu are gonna go lay down and me and you are gonna finish the dishes and get ready for bed, Lil Miss.” It was now Javi’s turn to reply, talking to you through Lucy to try and insist that you go take a break before you pushed yourself too hard and felt even worse. 

“Jav, it’s fine, you made dinner and I-” 

“Lucy Goosey and I are more than capable of cleaning up and getting ready for bedtime while Mommy gets some well deserved relaxing time, aren’t we, Lucy?” Javi smiled, giving Lucy a little raspberry on her belly, making her squeal and grin in delight as she flapped her arms in Javi’s grasp. “I’ve got her, don’t worry.” Giving your hip a little squeeze, Javi gave you a reassuring nod, almost insisting that you go give yourself a break to at least soothe Baby Two’s fight club antics in the comfort of your bed. 

“Thank you, Jav.” You smiled, letting out a relieved sigh, your pregnancy hormones causing your eyes to well with thankful tears for your amazing and understanding husband. 

“Of course, Osita. We’re gonna say goodnight to Momma, okay Lucy? Can you say, goodnight Momma, we love you?” Javi cooed at Lucy, prompting her to give you a little wave goodbye as you reached up to pepper a few kisses across her rosy cheeks as she giggled. 

“Night night, Momma. Wuv you!” Lucy babbled, reaching out towards you for a hug as you sandwiched her between you and Javi, giving her and Javi one last kiss before you trudged your way across the house and up the stairs towards your bedroom. 

Even though you were thankful for Javi taking care of Lucy’s bedtime routine for the night, it hadn’t eased Baby Peña’s soccer tournament in your stomach in the slightest. Even after slipping on one of Javi’s oversized shirts and your pajama shorts, tucking yourself into bed and throwing on the TV to watch the Dallas Stars game that had just started, you could not get anywhere close to comfortable, tossing and turning in your bed, trying your best not to curse in frustration at your incredibly active baby. 

“How ya doin’, Momma?” Javi asked, gently closing the bedroom door behind him seemingly finished with putting Lucy down for bed as he began to strip out of his work clothes and into his cotton sleep shorts, tossing the dirty items in the hamper before crawling into bed next to you. 

“Your child better grow up to be the next David Beckham.” You groaned, sitting up on your pillows to look over at Javi, with a sympathetic smile spread across his face. 

“My kid, huh?” Javi chuckled, laying his hand over your stomach, gently rubbing circles with his thumb against the worn fabric of his shirt you were wearing. “If my kid grows up to be the next David Beckham, I will gladly take all the credit.” 

The two of you laughed as you gave Javi a playful shove, rolling your eyes at his joke only to be interrupted by another sharp kick to your side, making you wince uncomfortably. “Ugh, yes, you can get all the credit if you can convince your child to stop bruising my internal organs.” You half grumbled, half laughed, as you readjusted yourself to lay down on your side, now face to face with Javi. “Lucy was never this active, especially this early. I have a feeling we’re gonna have our hands full with this one.” 

“A handful just like her Momma.” Javi smiled, snaking his hand under the hem of your shirt to rest his palm against your skin, running his hand back and forth over your belly. 

“I don’t know, Jav. I really think this one is a boy.” You huffed, bracing yourself again as another punch landed underneath Javi’s hand, making his face light up, always enamored to feel the baby moving in your stomach, even though you weren’t quite feeling the same. 

“I’ll be happy with whatever they are, but I’ll be even happier if they stop trying to hurt their mamá, huh bebito (little baby)?” Javi cooed, leaning over to press a soft kiss on your stomach. “Déjela relajarse, por favor mi amorcito (Let her relax, please my little love).” 

Even though this pregnancy didn’t have as much in common with your first one as you would have hoped, if there was one similarity they shared, it was that something about hearing Javi’s voice made your babies relax instantly. Not only did it make your heart absolutely melt every single time, but you also couldn’t have been more thankful that Javi’s sweet sounds were able to bring you some much needed relief.  

“Nosotros te amamos mucho Chiquitita, pero su papá necesito ayudar a su mamá relajarse también. (We love you so much, little one, but your dad needs to help your mom relax too). And I would prefer it if you weren’t kicking her while I did it.” Javi smirked, slowly trailing his hands and kisses down your stomach, shooting you a quick wink. 

“Javi!” You playfully scolded, giving him a little shove as he scooted his body down the bed, coming face to face with your heat as he ran his hands up and down the soft skin of your thighs, his fingers tugging at the waistband of your sleep shorts. 

“You gonna let me help you relax, Hermosa?” Javi mewled, placing languid kisses along the inside of your legs, carefully helping to raise your hips to pull your shorts and underwear off your hips, tossing them to the floor. You let out a content sigh as you leaned your head back against your pillow, feeling Javi’s fingers slide through your folds, collecting the arousal that had already been pooling between your legs since the moment Javi had laid down next to you. 

You had gotten to the point in your pregnancy where you were insatiably horny all the time and much to Javi’s delight, he was more than happy to help you with your problem however and whenever he could, even though you had to be a little more strategic (and quiet) this time around with Lucy in the house. Despite the constant kicking that had quite literally been a pain in your side the past few weeks, it was almost like Javi could sense how worked up and needy you were and couldn’t help but feel a little satisfied that he was the only thing that could cure the constant ache between your legs. 

Javi nudged your knees open, letting them fall to the sides as he pressed the pads of his fingers against your clit, the sensation making you let out a whimper you tried your best to silence by biting down on your lip. “So wet for me, sweet girl. Gonna take good care of you, Momma. You deserve it. Gotta keep quiet for me though, okay?” 

You nodded frantically as Javi easily slid two fingers into your dripping heat, slowly pumping in and out of you as you felt the heat of his breath hovering over your cunt before he licked a long, broad strip through your folds, already making you instinctively buck your hips towards his face. 

Javi hooked his free arm around one of your thighs, holding you in place as he began to lap you up, each stroke of his tongue slow and methodical as his fingers began to curl inside you, pressing into the sweet spot that he knew all too well would make you fall apart around him. 

You couldn’t help but feel your bottom half squirm against your sheets, reaching down to tug at the dark curls of Javi’s hair, trying to find any sort of relief to keep from being a loud, moaning and whimpering mess as his tongue worked along your cunt, lapping you up like a man starved. His mouth latched along your clit, sucking at your sensitive bundle of nerves as his fingers pumped inside you, making the tingle at the base of your spine already begin to build in a needy desperation. 

“Javi, holy fuck- oh my god baby, don’t stop, please don’t stop.” You whimpered, somehow managing to keep your voice just above a whisper as Javi pulled away to respond, still keeping a steady pace with his hand as he felt your pussy start to flutter around his fingers. 

“I won’t stop baby, you can let go for me, Osita. I’ve got you.” 

With that, he was back between your legs, relentlessly working along your heat with his mouth as the the coil in your belly wound so tightly, you were on the brink of snapping. 

“Javi, Javi, Javi, oh shit- Fuck, fuck, I’m gonnaahhhhhhhhh.” 

With that, your orgasm flooded through your body, pleasure spreading through every inch of you as you clenched around Javi’s fingers, soaking his hand and face with your arousal as you came, using every fiber of your being to keep from screaming out his name as you reached your high. 

“Shhhhhh, that’s it, Hermosa.” Javi smirked, squeezing his fingers into the meat of your thigh as you rode out your orgasm, trying to help you keep quiet. Javi peeked his head back up as your breathing began to even out, your chest rising and falling in satisfaction as his kisses began to travel back up your body, stopping at your neck to take extra time to nip along your jawline, his teeth tugging at your earlobe as his voice rasped against your skin. 

“Such a good girl for me, Osita. So fucking wet. Fuck, I need to feel you, baby. Can I?” 

You nodded rapidly, feeling how hard he already was under his sleep shorts, his erection tenting the cotton fabric and staining it with his precum. “Yes, oh my god, please.” You moaned under your breath, pulling him in for an electric kiss, your mouths meeting with a passionate intensity. 

“How do you want me, Hermosa?” He asked, breaking from your kiss. You had gotten to the point in your pregnancy that you were limited on options, which was never a problem since Javi had no problem making you feel incredible however the two of you fucked. Even with how horny you were, and any position would have been fine, Javi was always adamant that you being comfortable was the most important, and would let you call the shots. 

“Can you spoon me? I’m not gonna lie, being punched in the gut all day has me exhausted, I’m too tired to get on top. Sorry, that is like, the most unsexy thing to say but-” 

“Hey, I’ll do whatever you want, Osita. And it is fucking sexy because you’re growing our future soccer star.” He teased, cradling your face in his hand, pressing a soft kiss on your lips as you laughed, rolling your eyes. 

“They better be a star after all the grief they’ve caused me.” 

“I’m being serious though, baby. You know I think you are the most beautiful woman on the face of this earth, but seeing you all gorgeous and pregnant? Carrying our baby again? Fuck me, that’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” Javi beamed, peppering kisses down your body as he helped you to lay down on your side, gently lifting your legs to put one of his pillows under your knees to prop them up. Javi shuffled his shorts down his legs, kicking them off the side of the bed before scooting behind you on his side, reaching down to stroke himself a few times as he lined up with your entrance, running his cock through your folds and collecting your slick as he caged his chest against your back. “You gonna let me prove to you how fucking perfect you are? Show you how much I love my beautiful fucking wife?” 

You could feel his tip begin to slowly press inside your heat, easily sliding in from how wet you were, working his way deeper, taking his time as he buried himself in your cunt inch by inch until he bottomed out, the sweet sting of his fullness making you moan with no regard for your volume. 

“Shhhhhhh, I know baby, I know. You gotta keep quiet for me. Don’t wanna wake up Lucy.” Javi rasped in your ear, draping his arm over your body, letting his hand run up and down your side to try and soothe you before he kept going. “Promise you’re gonna be a good girl and keep quiet?” 

“Mhhmmmm, please, I promise, I need you Javi.” You whimpered, grinding your bottom half back into Javi, desperate for him to keep going. 

“Jesus Christ- fuck, I need you too, Hermosa.” Javi grunted through gritted teeth, slowly pulling out before pressing back into your pussy, taking his sweet time as he savored every stroke. “So fucking wet for me, Osita.” 

So wet, that all you could hear in your room was the lewd noises of Javi thrusting in and out of you over your muted moans you were trying to keep contained as you bit down on your tongue. 

Each snap of his hips felt deeper than the last, the sweet sting of his stretch making you absolutely lose your mind as he punched against your g-spot at a slow and savory pace, pressing languid kisses along your neck and shoulder as the hot breath of his words hit your skin. 

“I love you so fucking much, Osita. I’m so fucking lucky. You’re so perfect. Perfect wife, perfect mom to our daughter, perfect all pregnant and carrying our baby. Can’t wait until I can fuck another baby into you.” As if him whispering into your ear as he fucked into with an intensity and passion that had you reeling, Javi reached his hand around your front, the pads of his fingers meeting your throbbing clit, making you lose all control as a ragged moan escaped from your lips. 

Javi’s hand immediately shot up to your mouth, carefully covering it before you got any louder, now trying his best to keep from groaning as he tried to keep you quiet. “I know Hermosa, fuck- fuck, we gotta stay quiet, baby.” Javi convincing himself just as much as he was convincing you, his grunts becoming louder and louder as they rumbled in his chest, feeling your cunt beginning to clench tighter around his cock. 

You knew that despite how hard you tried, with how good you felt, and how quickly the heat in your belly was starting to bloom once again, there was no way you were going to be able to stop yourself from keeping quiet. Giving in to the fact that Javi was going to have no choice but to cover your mouth, you wrapped your hand over his, pushing his thumb into your mouth, letting your tongue swirl and suck over it as Javi continued to thrust into you, his pace now starting to quicken as he felt your pussy fluttering around him. 

“Fuck- oh fuck me.” Javi groaned, punching deeper and harder against the spot inside you that made you crumble, needing to make you cum again before he fell apart just as quickly as you were. “Touch yourself, baby. I’m not gonna- shit- I’m not gonna last much longer. Need you to cum again. Need you to- fuck- soak my cock before I fuck you full of me.” 

You let your hands drop down, reaching between your legs to rub your clit, barely needing any pressure at all before your second orgasm came crashing through you, moaning into Javi’s broad palm wrapped over your mouth as pleasure radiated through every inch of your body. 

As Javi felt you fall apart, his thrusts became faster and sloppier, quickly following suit,  spilling deep inside you after only a few more pumps, groaning through gritted teeth as he milked himself of every last drop. Resting his forehead against the back of your shoulder, you could feel Javi’s damp curls sticking to your skin as both your chests heaved deeply, trying to catch your breath as you came down from your highs. As Javi lifted his head up, you could feel his lips pressing soft kisses against your back, his fingertips tracing gentle circles on your skin, keeping his chest pressed to yours. 

“You okay, Hermosa?” Javi cooed, letting the tips of his fingers dance along your soft skin as he let out a soft hiss, pulling out of your heat, feeling the mix of your spend dripping down your thighs, planting one more kiss on your shoulder before heading off to the bathroom, returning with a warm washcloth. 

“Okay? I’m amazing. You finally got the munchkin to stop kicking and you made me cum so hard, holy shit, this is the best I have felt all day.” You laughed, shaking your head in blissed out satisfaction as Javi gently wiped you up, tossing the washcloth into the hamper as you turned over to face him, cupping his face as your lips met in a tender kiss, a soft smile peeking out the corners of both of your lips. “Thank you.” 

“For what, Osita?” Javi questioned, his brow slightly scrunching in confusion as his sweet brown eyes stared back at you, brushing a stray piece of hair from your face. 

“For being so amazing. For taking such good care of me, for being such a great dad, I don’t know, I’m so lucky to have you, Javi. I love you.” You smiled, letting tears flow down your cheeks, quickly trying to wipe them away in embarrassment. “Sorry, hormones.” You shrugged, letting out a little laugh as Javi’s thumb gently swiped across your wet face, drying your tears. 

“You deserve everything, Osita. Eres mi amor, mi vida, mi todo. Te amo mucho. (You are my love, my life, my everything. I love you so much.)” Javi beamed, pulling you closer to lay against his chest, resting his hand on your stomach, gently rubbing it back and forth. “Mi familia es perfecto. Mi hermosa esposa, mi hermosa mija, mi hermosa futbolista (My family is perfect. My beautiful wife, my beautiful daughter, my beautiful soccer player)." The two of you laughed, looking down at your belly for a moment before letting out a little “oof” as you felt a tiny kick underneath where Javi’s hand was placed. 

“Tell your little soccer star they can wait to practice until the morning.” 

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