#too much fussing and crying no thanks..not now

[court-jobi]

Flip of a Switch

((banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's work or this splendid art))

Pairing: Hawks x reader (fem!reader)

Words: 3.4k

Rating: M, 18+ (put down the spicy chicken bucket, baby birds)

Warnings: NSFW, oral (m receiving), fingering, praise, slight!overstim, est. relationship, sweet dirty talk, marking, Hawks / Reader are SWITCHES, porn w feelings, where we're going we don't need plot

Summary:

Any chance he gets, Hawks is going to be bounding into your apartment, ripping off his shirt and ready to spoil and be spoiled by your loving hands when he has a free afternoon or a rare night off the patrol circuit. His 'issued residence' is hardly a zen getaway for him, but your home is. Pleasing and pleasuring your beloved Pro Hero is the least of your worries. It's playing with yourself that's the hard part, so opening up your bedroom to your Keigo to let him try his hand at it is still a touch-and-go battle. But it's your playtime, too, and he's set on making you feel as sexy as you look.

A/N: It's smut hours, yall, and pretty bird is up next. Thank you all for the comments and love, hope you like this one!

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on Ao3

"Stop," Hawks breathes out fast, "Stopstopstop…"

With a rough hand, your personal Pro Hero forces you to listen: he smooths over your hair to get your attention along his hip, and cupped your chin with a lift to keep it up and away from temptation.

Looking up all too innocently, your small voice cracks from… lack of use.

"Wass'matter?" 

You swallow some residual ‘excitement’ from the corner of your mouth with a flirty tongue. Hawks's pupils are blown.

"Bad idea. Fuck... You're too good at that." He smirked, reining himself in.

"Mmm, thank you~" you laid down along his abs, mindful of the pulsing just below you, in between your breasts. Rocking back and forth under the excuse of 'getting comfortable' only got a rise out of Hawks more– your beloved companion inhales a cleansing breath to steady himself.

"And here I thought you had those pesky confidence issues, lovedove…"

"I did, a little." You pressed a little kiss and a twiddle of fingers along his sides, "But m'better now, thanks to you-"

Those fingers press and press towards his back, and the thought just crosses your mind…

Hawks clutches a wrist almost instantly- frowning hard to hide his near outburst.

Eyes flickering between Hawks’s face and his squeezing hand, you narrowed your set stare.

"... Are you ticklish?"

"No."

"You're lying."

"My wings aren't ticklish. Common misconcep’shn."

"Oh." you hushed. "So you won't make a fuss I do this..."

"Okay now, don't you gooo-ooh-woah, HEY!!"

Hawks rose up with laughter as you gave him a mighty ‘ole raspberry on his taut stomach. 

Happy Keigo is your favorite Keigo.

The bark of his involuntary giggles echo for a passing beat in your perfect, cozy room, cascading into low chuckles as you sought out his sides -close to where his winglets are pinned down– to tickle him further. 

The cuteness aggression on both your parts died down as he continued to cry uncle, so you eased up with the sweetest realization: this was probably the first time you recalled having so much pleasure and fun in bed. What a combination…

"You absolute brat!" Hawks rasps incredulously and pins you back towards the foot of the bed. This puts you squarely out of the covers to force your little squirming self against the cold- bringing out your subsequent pout. No amount of bargaining will help you now, "Oh no~ you don't get to hide. You asked for this."

And he copies your razz, causing you to burst out in high, carousing squeals- after which you immediately slap a hand over your mouth. 

Surprised by yourself, you had to mute the sudden noise with a panicked look at the door.

Hawks hummed, disapproving. 

"Look who's being loud now. Whatever would the Hikamotos say?"

The game of teasing only brought out your competitive nature. Your dear old neighbors hold no weight over you, but you weren't about to spark their wrath at you for being too loud again. 

You winked and teased your lip, "What they don’t know won’t hurt them."

"That so?" Hawks' eyes sparkled in the low light. "Then I have your permission to make you scream another way…?"

That made you stiffen- in all good humor, but aware of the sinful look in Hawks' dilated sights, you knew this wasn't a bluff. It's a promise.

"Okay, wait, no-- they'd definitely suspect something then!"

"Since when do you care what the old coots across the hall think?" Hawks countered, a jealous twang slipping into his words.

"Since I’m the one who has to deal with them whenever you're gone. And PopPop asks me -often- about my love life, and what I think about those heroes I'm always hanging out with. Pretty hard act to play, when I have to be cool even though I'm thirsting after your ev-.. ev’ry move, while you're.. y’know..not here."

Your words were slowing off your tongue as Hawks' wandering hands skimmed over your skin- one heading up your body to cradle your head, the other snaking down and swatting back the bunched-up covers to give him space.

"Yeah? And what're you going to tell the poor geezer now, hm?"

You smiled suggestively, but the sensations thrumming through your bones now send you reeling- knowing what was coming next, and already feeling the nerves push back up your gut.

Hawks' gaze flickered down as a hint. A whisper on his lips instructs you to 'open your legs a bit', very easy going. 

Letting your thighs go lax, you busy your hands by tugging his upper body down close so you could reach his hair- something, anything to hold onto, to touch him gently enough so he'd show you mercy.

He says it's his favorite way to unwind, being at home with you. Fierce Wings shed all over your room in batches, stripped down in next to nothing himself, unencumbered by teeming fans and villains alike– your boyfriend lights up at the idea when you offer your own cleared schedule to spend it with him. 

Within minutes of texting a particularly alluring selfie his way, Hawks is bounding into your apartment, ripping off his shirt and ready to spoil and be spoiled by your loving hands anytime he gets a free afternoon or a rare night off the patrol circuit. His apartment -while calm and aesthetically pleasing in its simpleness- is an ‘issued residence’, and reminds him of his commitments to work and thus far from his ideal zen getaway.

But making him feel good is the least of your reservations. It didn't take you longer than an episode of a kid’s cartoon to make him lose his mind and start begging to cum. 

It's playing with yourself that's the hard part, so opening up your bedroom to Hawks to let him try his hand at it was still a touch-and-go battle. 

You knew full well you were in the best care with him, knew it in your head and heart– but the flare of insecurity would not leave you alone when you're with him like this. Your entire waistline will tremble on its own, your spine will go stock still, and your legs are unable to really go weightless unless he’s telling you step by step to do so. 

But he makes it really convincing, bat of his eyes and all. He's never once rushed you or made a jab about how long you take to unwind. This is your playtime, too; where he can see past your flirty shell that's obviously attracted to him, but needs a little encouragement to turn sensual. He'd offer you the moon if he could- whatever would make you feel as sexy as you look.

Seems that simply watching you does it enough for him, at least… hence why he had to forcibly remove you from his lap to avoid releasing too soon. 

"So?” Hawks croons down to you, “You were going tell him..~?"

"That I-- uh..." you raked along his skull to feel grounded.

Gone are the featherlight and soft touches. Hawks is on a massaging mission. Memorizing  you by way of warmed skin and the stuttering breaths of almost kisses.

"You–?”

You squirm, brow furrowed.

“I– I can get the- uhm-”

“No…” the twist of your body is halted by his palm on your hip. Shaking his head at your suggestion of a toy to speed things along, he presses a chaste kiss to your nose, “no rushin’. Gonna try this the old-fashioned way.”

You flare with heat up your neck.

“Old-fashioned way?”

“Mhm~ Lovin’ touchin’ squeezin’, mama.”

He's honestly getting a bit creative in a way you haven't felt before. Rather than dip into where he knows you’ll be wet and stuff you full, he's mapping the entire area with expert touch, until he happens upon the nub of you that takes his full, thorough attention. 

Once he's got it, Hawks' rubbing grew distracting, very quickly. 

It's a good spot– the spot.

It's just little circles, why does this feel like it's numbing me straight to my brain…

Dammit, those teasing looks. You moaned, shutting your eyes to focus down. 

Your brain traipsed nearer and nearer to a fuzzy state, as was each word pushed out with lidded eyes: cast to him for an answer. 

"I-- mmmm.. What the hell you doing, and why'sitfeelsogood?..." 

Hawks drank them in and studied you with a proud but soft expression, watching you slip closer and closer to what he wanted. With bated breath, he nosed close to your ear,

"Gonna make you cum, sweet thing." Hawks cooed ever so lovingly. "Gonna go nice and slow~ just relax for me, deal?"

“B-but you haven't even-”

“I know~” kisses start getting littered on your neck, “I know, but I'm easy, babe. Wanna get you warmed up a bit, too. Only fair to my lady with that pretty, pretty mouth of hers, y'know? I hafta make things even~”

A broken hum in the affirmative, you give in and sink towards his neck and let him touch. 

“I– it's… it's not as easy for me, though… might take a while, n’ you shouldn’t hafta wait so long.. I don’t- know if I can…”

You’re never short on reactive noises, but your shyness overtook when the warm fluttering waves dominated your focus. It was too much and not enough; and between Hawks’ ministrations and his words, you had a hard time pinning your thoughts down on anything at all. 

“We don't have a timeline, sweet’eart,” your loving boyfriend nuzzles you, “s’just you and me here. Lemme love on you a little, hm?”

That voice of his- low and rolling, like he uses to talk to his higher ups in order to get away with his charming bullshit- was doing something powerful to you now.

"You sound amazing like this. All let loose and open for me?” Hawks lays on the praise thick, “Oh, I could listen to you all day and night. Just might do that.. mmm, feels good to touch you like this, too."

Fuck, Keigo. 

"Wanted to, for the longest time.. wanted to feel how much you missed me, if you miss me as much as I miss you... I want to listen to you breathe, like we did before. Hear you sing your own little birdie-songs, and just let everything else fade away.. wanna feel you around me and just let that heat take over -fuck, you're so wet, aren't you…”

Fuck, Keigo… 

“Wanted… to lay you back down on that sofa in my office that first day you said you'd come n’ meet me for lunch. Almost kept you all’to myself. Even after fighting every fuckin’ thing in sight between here to Tokyo, filthy as sin- I wanted you, even then..."

He’s kissing down your torso now, speaking this lovesick poetry straight to your core. 

To his retreating warmth, you grasped along his arm for his hand until you connected.

"Didn't fucking matter though, did it sweet’eart? You had my whole heart in a chokehold, I know that now– but God was I such a damned idiot for waitin’ so long. All I wanted was to tell you how much I loved you... N’tell you everything I do, and how I do it. All the stories you want– they're yours. Knowing I have you to come back to... To come home to..."

Next to bursting, your breaths came sharp and painfully arousing.

 "Keigo~~"

Ever the enticing hero, Hawks slunk down on his belly -ear to your abdomen- speaking right to you. Granting you the sweetest words he can muster in the gentlest voice- you feel closer than ever to the man claiming he's always been yours. 

"M’never letting 'nother day go by…” Hawks praised you with needy fingers still dancing around your folds, “Gonna swear to you, every single chance I get: how much I want you... adore you.. how much I fucking love you."

"Fuck, Keigo~~!" 

Your back tipped off the bed and suddenly, you felt attacked by the strangest surge of need that you gripped his wrist still; willing it to.. not stop- pull away? Or pull nearer?

He peeks up to you again with a devilish smirk. Popping up with a passionate lift of his wing’s assist, Hawks grumbles teases against your neck, 

"Bout to fly off into the clouds, are we?"

You whined beautifully; or at least, you think he'd say so. Through your head swims, swirling in all of his confessions of one-sided pining, you tried to beg for the unknown: 

Things feel tight, and achey.

"Wai-- Kei, I can’t-"

"Yes, you can," Hawks pressed into your neck and sped up his hand, "Yes you can, sweet thing. Let go, you're so close."

Breath was hard to come by. Little nosies grew high and light in your moans, and you're clutching at Hawks to come back up to you, seeking his protection and his warmth- higher and higher as your impending, ultimate high dangled mysteriously in front of you.

But no, he's back onto his belly with nothing but kisses to your midsection and some open mouthed nibbles at your skin on his way. 

Honestly, you had no real clue how this could happen with what he was doing, how he moved so expertly and pinpointed this edge of pleasure and agony for you with amazing precision- all by some fanciful words. 

This was different from any encounter you've had before. You think you know why, too, since it was apart of your draw to him in the first place- 

You are stuck on his voice. His mind. His inner man under all the showmanship. It all comes out through a honey-sweet tone that means every secret he spills is true. And he knows that'll strike to the core of you; you're a wordsmith, after all. He turns poetic, because he knows that will resonate with your artistic heart. 

It's working, because you’re  pulsing everywhere  and  need him so badly-

"Shit, Keigohoney, please!!" you begged- near tears- cupping his strong neck and looking for his assurance and safety.

–only said object of your affections is too into this, and aims to please and tease your way through to finishing. 

“What's that, baby? Whaddyou need?”

“I-I wan’ you, ughhh…” 

Those needs melted into moans the more you feel him pet and stroke. 

Your darling boy simply smiles and kisses you tender and quick against those trembling lips.

"I got you," Hawks rasped, his tone becoming urgent and coaxing, excitement lighting his eyes and nodding along with you as you convinced yourself: 

…this was new, but going to be oh-so worth it, just like he said- how he promised- 

Hawks bobs his head while he picks up the speed of his fingers on your clit, 

"You're gonna come for me, yeah? Gonna come hard and fast and you're gonna love every second of it, c'mon-- I got you, I'm right here."

You begged in half-whimpers.

‘I'm right here,’ the bed seems to agree- currently being rutted against by Hawks’ more hybrid tendencies, with you in between: 

"You're gonna feel so good. You don't need to beg… there's nothing but all the time in the world, nothing but this room, this bed. Nothin’ but your Keigo. Just you and me here."

Your very heart rose to the surface, slurring your words,

“Love you-…”

"Mm. I hear how much you love me," his moan into your ear to ramp up your pleasure, and make you cry out, “N’ I love you, too, little dove.”

He's caressing you even faster, but equally as light. It's not a push, but a thrum of constant pressure.

 "My girl’s almost ready to cum, isn't she?"

"FUCK yes!" you moaned at the change of pace. You're a panting mess and embarrassed by it– but  he's so excited to see it.

Chancing a look at him, Hawks is a man starved. Just touching you alone, he's heaving big breaths.

"That feels good, huh?” Hawks growls- nearing feral, “Gonna be even better with my cock inside you."

 It's the key to unlock your next cry.

"GODS, fuck me now!!"

"Not. Yet.”

Hawks tips your chin up with a possessive hold on your neck. His palm -gloveless since this began- cradles you from underneath, bringing your gaze to his fire-lit eyes.

“You go first. Then I'll fuck right into you, just like you want. You cum first for me, yeah? You gonna cum?"

"Yes~" you begged, breathless and in a trance under him, "Yes yes, please, I'll co-- ahh, I'm- ah.."

Hawks with his controlled strength squeezed his hand ever so gently, craning your head up and up, grinding with your leg in perfect rhythm with his hand's curl.

"That's it-- there you go, c'mon. C'mon."

Hawks spat his passions again and again, delicious in its roughness.

Then, you finally sobbed until it silenced you–

You’re jumping up against the weight slotted to you -his weight- but immediately stilled by Hawks' hard kisses over the column of your throat: kisses adorned with canines that bite when you start to shake through your pleasure.

Ultimate relief gushed out of you while you twitched and crashed against him, riding out his  hand to your body's high.

As the shocks spilled over, you're gasping- eyes wide open. 

Then as quick as it came, your entire body gave up its ghost; limp and clutching close to your anchor while he started chuckling in complete rapture,

“Atta girl, atta girl!! You did it, baby, I knew you could!”

He's celebrating this win, over and over as if it's his own. It was a vain effort since your ears felt stuffed with cotton from the exertion you'd just been put through, and could barely make anything out with the headrush ebbing away. The only thing you could register was Hawks’ frame bracing himself up on an elbow above you– your source of shelter.

Veritable alpha energy coating you from top to bottom, you relish each passing second of settling down easy while receiving little assuring kisses along your hot skin. 

Well, at first, they were kisses. Then some longer ones. Then a few licks along your neck working to cool you: he was tasting your sweat.

"Ohhhh-ho that's my best girl! You were amazing to watch- fuck~~. That was the most gorgeous thing I ever did see, hmmm... Oh, poor thing, can you hear me? Shhh hey, you. Can you hear me alrigh’?"

His voice was turning playful, and when you finally open your eyes, the dizzying sensation had gone away finally. But while the intensity had dimmed, it only reignited your heat when you met your lover's adoring features. 

Brilliant half smile on display, Hawks brushes your hair back and presses some loving forehead kisses across you… eliciting light breathless chuckles in thanks to the touch.

Hawks centered back on your flushed cheeks and lax brows- free from all tension,

"Back down on the ground with me?"

"...Holy shit."

"Good shit?"

"Good shit~"

“Color?”

“Golden.” Better than green, when it’s him.

You giggled in relief, shuddering against the cold and turning to the side aghast at yourself. Only in the let down of your post-bliss did you realize how fast you'd turned into a full sap the moment his hands were on you. 

And after being in control of his pleasure for so long before… he flipped a switch and blew your mind. 

Hawks was an incredibly fast learner, though was there any surprise there? You cover your neck for a second and gave a glowing laugh again, "Wow, my throat is tired."

Your blond beauty atop you simply stroked still-damp fingers along the supple edge of your breast. The experimental touch could hardly be considered fondling due to the soulful look of reverence in how he handled them. He'd be sure to shower up with you later and clean it off. 

"You were enjoying yourself- I’d call that a good job~”

"I don' think I can make any sandwiches for you after that one," you limply waved your hand: "no bones right now."

“Haha! No offerings needed, lovedove. It's entirely my pleasure.”

He’s your absolute angel, you’re convinced now more than ever.

Hawks rumbled happily, "Tired girl, huh. You do look pretty wiped out." He twirls your side swept hair aside. “S’pose I won’t be making good on my promise to fill ya up this time, will I?”

The tease prominent on his mind (and now yours), you focus in: broke from the daze and blindly shift your leg up and over Hawks’ thigh- pulling him in flush to you and grinding up with a smirk, 

"Not that tired, pretty bird."

[moonsyrups]

a long time ago a little baby named noah was born

[penkura]

OP Men Holding Their Firstborn for the First Time

Note: This is in relation to my post of headcanons for these five men and their children. I just started thinking of which ones of them will cry, who will freak out over holding a tiny baby, who may reject the thought at first. And it came to this lol. I think the next one in this series will be names for the kids or babies taking their first steps! The baby fever is strong help. For now, please enjoy these men being soft about their offspring!

Ace almost has a heart attack when you try to pass your daughter to him, he swears he felt his heart jump into his throat when you ask if he wants to hold her, saying no that he's fine for now, but you insist he should. He doesn't do so for several hours, instead watching you with her as he works up the courage to have her in his arms.

What if my powers activate and I burn her? What if she cries and kicks? Oh lord, what I drop her??

"Ace, please. You need to hold her."

The look on your face, like you're begging him to hold her, finally makes Ace agree, sitting on the edge of your hospital bed to take your hours old daughter from you. You remind him to be careful of her head, make sure to support her, and smile when you finally get to see the two loves of your life together at last.

She doesn't fuss or cry or kick, instead staying fast asleep and seeming like she's snuggling into the warmth Ace radiates thanks to his Devil Fruit powers. He's just amazed by her, her tiny little nose and the beautiful, dark eyelashes that brush her chubby little cheeks. She's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen after you of course.

Ace fights not to cry but can't help the few tears that sneak out, wiping them away on his sleeve quickly, the one time he wears a shirt and it's the day you give birth to the newest love of his life.

Gosh, he always knew you were amazing. Now you've given him a family of his own, how could he ever repay you?

"Thank you for her...she's so perfect."

Ace can't seem to tear his eyes away from your daughter's little face, and that's okay with you. She's his baby too, he needs to have some time with her.

"What do you think we should name her, Ace?"

Oh. Oh crap, she does need a name huh?

~~

Law doesn't even have a chance to think about it, he's holding your son immediately after birth since he was the one to help you deliver obviously. Once your baby boy is wrapped in a towel Law hands him right to you before checking to make sure you're doing all right. Your vitals are all normal and stable, he's relived that you're both fine, while he watches you talk to your crying newborn.

You tell him that it doesn't count that he held your son right away since he's your and the boy's doctor, eventually getting Law to sit down and actually hold him as his father instead. Your son kept fussing and crying until Law finally got to hold him, the newborn quieting after a few moments but keeping his eyes shut tight and his little hands in fists as he kept whining.

Once he finally opens his eyes to stare up at Law, it's probably the cutest thing you've ever seen in your life apart from Bepo.

Especially once you catch sight of a few tears in Law’s eyes, making you smile softly as you lean back to just watch them. He's quick to rub at his eyes and make them stop, but the few sniffles you hear every bit tell you he's trying to stop himself from looking like a bigger baby than your literal baby he's holding.

He's never actually held a baby so tiny, not since Lammy was born. And to know this is his son, it's crazy to think about while he watches your baby boy start to fall asleep.

He really does wish his parents, sister, and Cora-san were there. They'd all love to meet your son, and you know he's thinking that, but you hope realizes that all the Heart Pirates are going to love your little boy just as much as his family would have.

And that eases the sting a bit, especially when they all do get to meet your son, and not a single one of them is without tears, beyond happy for you and their beloved captain.

~~

Penguin almost begs to hold your daughter once she's born and you're both stable. Law tries to push him away while he takes your daughter's vitals and measurements, asking how on earth you dealt with Penguin being so clingy the last nine months, which just makes you laugh.

"Go sit with your wife, damn it, I'll bring her over in a minute."

"But, captain--"

"Penguin, just come over here for now."

Penguin sits beside your bed and pouts until Law finally brings your daughter over, about to hand her to you before you direct him to your husband. Both ask if you're absolutely sure you want Penguin to hold her first, until you confirm it, and Law hands your daughter to her father, showing him the right away to hold her, before he leaves the three of you alone for a few minutes.

Penguin is absolutely enthralled with her. She's still fussy from being born, stretching out her little arms and legs, making cute little sounds, and he just can't believe she's finally here. He feels like you two waited an eternity for her to be born, now she has been! She's so small, she fits perfectly in his arms and it makes him want to cry so much.

"She's so tiny."

"And she looks just like you, Peng."

~~

Due to you having twins, you hold your son while Sanji holds your daughter, blubbering like the baby girl was because he's just so happy to have these babies with you. It makes you want to laugh hearing him cry, watching him kiss your daughter's forehead to try and calm her down while he dotes on her and you give your son attention.

"You're an angel, a perfect little gift from heaven!"

When you finally swap which baby you're each holding, Sanji still cries, happy to have a son too! He never really thought you'd have twins, or that they'd be fraternal on top of it! Both are so precious to him, you're precious to him, this little family you've now built together.

Your daughter has his hair, but your son looks just like you to Sanji. He kisses your son's forehead before looking at you and your newborn daughter, still unable to believe this is going to be his life from now on. You, and him, and your two tiny blessings.

"I love you so, so much."

He can't wait to call Zeff and let him know the good news.

~~

Zoro has no worries or qualms or tears when holding your son for the first time. Actually, it doesn't hit him for a few hours that he has a child now.

Your son is so quiet most of his first day outside the womb, sleeping and eating, only fussing when he needs something, but you're able to calm him down quickly. The way you're able to do that when this is your first baby impresses Zoro more than anything today.

It's only once you're asleep and he's holding your son again that it really gets to him. There's another person depending on him now, this one being his own flesh and blood, his newborn son that already looks just like him. His hands are so tiny, he's not even able to fully get his little fingers around one of Zoro's fingers.

Chopper made sure you both were left alone for the day, Zoro taking a bed next to yours and laying back with your son on his chest that night. That's when he realized just how small your baby is. His hand covered the newborn's back completely, his tiny hand fisting Zoro's shirt as he slept, small coos and whines coming from him every now and then. Zoro looks at you for a moment, before back to your son with a smile.

Your son may not have been planned, but Zoro's more than accepting of how his life is turning out.

~~

Note 2: I am absolutely willing to elaborate on these men and their children. If anyone wants to see something specific, just send me a message! I'll be posting more of my own thoughts too!

[literary-lesbo]

𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵 𝘓𝘪𝘴𝘵

ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ! ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴜᴘ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀꜱ ɪ'ᴠᴇ ꜰᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴏɴ ᴘɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇꜱᴛ

𝘏𝘶𝘳𝘵/𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵

♡ "can you please come get me?"

♡ "hey, don't do that, you'll hurt yourself"

♡ "no, don't cry, I hate it when you cry"

♡ "you look sad"

♡ "oh god, you're bleeding"

♡ "I could just use a hug"

♡ "don't touch me"

♡ "it's okay, just breathe"

♡ "I'll stay for as long as you need"

♡ "you can trust me"

♡ "can I touch you? is that okay?"

♡ "you don't need to apologize, ever"

♡ "hey, hey, you're alright! it's okay, just calm down"

♡ "shh, shh, you're okay now"

♡ "here, hold my hand"

♡ "there's no shame in crying, I promise"

♡ "are you crying?"

♡ "you are what's important right now"

♡ "I've got nowhere else to be"

♡ "I'm at the hospital"

𝘈𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵

♡ "I don't want to die"

♡ "I was only using you"

♡ "stay away from me"

♡ "why am I always your second choice?"

♡ "we almost made it"

♡ "leave I don't want to see you"

♡ "why are you helping a monster?"

♡ "I'm barely holding on"

♡ "can I leave now?"

♡ "I guess that's just how little I meant to you"

♡ "I just want to know you care about me"

♡ "stop looking at me like I'm damaged goods"

♡ "there's no us and there never was"

♡ "you deserve so much better"

♡ "don't do this here"

♡ "am I too late?"

♡ "say something, just fucking say something"

♡ "I know. I know I wasn't enough. I always did"

♡ "I did care, I used to care"

𝘍𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧

♡ "shh, stop fussing. I'm just braiding your hair"

♡ "can I borrow your sweater? it smells like you"

♡ "you're my new pillow"

♡ "I'll be here to protect you"

♡ "it's okay, I couldn't sleep anyway"

♡ "you make me so happy"

♡ "aww, you're blushing"

♡ "wait...is this a date?"

♡ "can I kiss you?"

♡ "I'm glad you came"

♡ "I think I'm in love with you and I'm terrified"

♡ "thank you for being her for me"

♡ "you're so pretty when you first wake up"

♡ "I want you to stay, please"

♡ "dance with me"

♡ "your eyes are so pretty"

♡ "is someone sleepy?"

♡ "can I kiss you?"

♡ "you're so warm"

♡ "this/these are my favorite"

𝘚𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘧𝘪𝘤

♡ “you’re sure I’m sick?  ‘cause I feel fine”

♡  “I really cannot be sick right now”

♡  “everyone gets colds.  I’ll live”

♡  “I really hope this is just my allergies”

♡  “stop thinking so loud; my head hurts”

♡ "I'm scared"

♡ "I can't even talk properly"

♡  "I feel like I'm letting everyone down"

♡ "you're making a big deal out of nothing"

♡ "I'm so tired..."

♡ "no, you're not fine. you're burning up”

♡ "you need to rest. I'll stay here with you until you feel better"

♡ “just let me take care of you"

♡ "here, take my blanket”

♡ “I’ll make some tea”

♡ “you're in no condition to go anywhere”

♡ “just rest and let your body fight this off"

♡ “take this medicine, please"

♡ "I'm here now”

♡ "right now, the only person you need to help is yourself”

[sttoru]

“toji, dear, you can’t just hold megumi like that.”

you left your husband and (almost) one year old son alone to go to the kitchen and returned a second later, only to find toji holding your child like he was holding onto some grocery bag. you knew he was not the best with kids.

“why not? kid seems pretty happy ‘bout it.” toji answers nonchalantly while looking down at the baby, “look at ‘m.”

your eyes move to focus on megumi, who’s limbs were kicking around in the air—the back of his romper being held by toji’s rough hand. your son seemed fine; no cries or protests. in fact, he was happily sucking on his pacifier and those little blue orbs of his were glimmering like he was having the time of his life.

“see, told ya,” toji smirks as he sees the surprise on your face due to how content megumi was in such an uncomfortable-looking position, “no need to worry. ‘m strong enough not to drop him.”

you can’t help but roll your eyes and walk over to the couch, sitting down. you had a small bowl of food and a spoon ready to feed your child, “well, thank you. you can hand megumi over now, though. i need to feed him.”

toji raised an eyebrow as he looked at the baby food. he sits beside you, placing megumi on his lap before grabbing the plate and utensil from your hands, “i can do it.”

he instantly went ahead and scooped up some mushed food, which was way too much for one bite. especially for a literal child.

“alright lil’ buddy, open up.” toji hums and guides the big bite to megumi’s mouth. your son parts his lips with a happy expression, taking in the food, but not without leaving a small mess around the corners of his lips. it was expected to happen since megumi’s mouth had only so little capacity.

“tha’s my boy.” your husband grins before feeding the poor child another huge bite. more than half of it got smeared onto megumi’s chubby cheeks; his romper also catching some drops that fell from his lips. though, that didn’t matter to toji. all that mattered was that megumi was not making a fuss and just munched on the food that was given.

the mess being made was of little importance to toji. the fact that he ‘succeeded’ in doing such a small task without making his son cry, was enough of an achievement for now.

“damn, i’m gettin’ pretty good at this parenting stuff, don’cha think?” toji boasts with a proud grin.

…well, it seemed like your lover still had a long way to go for it to be considered ‘good’ enough by your standards. you’re glad he was trying at the very least.

[charliemwrites]

1fur1 Price part 2

(Sorry if this isn’t, like, spectacular. It’s been a minute since I wrote for this au)

The house is getting an upgrade. Two wolf dogs was a cozy situation, but manageable. The addition of a third, especially one as big as Konig, was pushing it. Like, really pushing it.

Now that Skipper has adopted himself into the family…

Not that you mind, of course. Skipper has been a bit of a blessing in furry disguise. You know that “Alpha Dog” dynamics aren’t an actual Thing with wolves, but if they were, you think Skipper would be it.

He must have some sort of shepherd in his blood because he wrangles the rest of the boys masterfully. They spend too long in the yard, he’s barking and nipping and rounding them up. Johnny’s being too insistent about “sharing” your food, he’s inserting himself between you two. Ghost and Johnny get rambunctious, he’ll tolerate it for a couple minutes but then he’s breaking it up with a grumble — especially if they’re acting up inside.

You appreciate the help.

It’s not that the boys don’t listen to you. They do! With almost perfect obedience. But it can still be overwhelming to keep an eye on everyone all the time.

“Oh darling, why is it always you?” you sigh, scratching at Konig’s chin. Receive a whine in return.

Your poor sensitive guy. Stepped on a bee in the yard, it seems. The vet cooed over him, gave him some meds, and now he’s all but collapsed in an anxiety-exhausted heap by the fireplace.

Johnny is pacing behind you, making upset noises and nosing at your elbow.

“I know you’re worried, bud,” you soothe over your shoulder. “He’s alright.”

You’re working a sock over Konig’s bandages so that he doesn’t pick at them. Johnny takes that as an invitation to insert himself into the mix, bumping into your shoulder hard. Your hand pushes into konig’s paw as you catch your balance and he yelps. The noise surprises you, scares you, hands jerking back.

Skipper is on him in an instant, teeth on his scruff and yanking him away from you and Konig. For once, Johnny resists, yelping and whining crying.

“Jesus, enough!” You raise your voice a bit to be heard over all the canine yelling. Get a hand in Skipper’s scruff and give him a shake. “Release.”

He does, though not without an indignant growl, twisting around to glare at you. You didn’t even know dogs could glare with so much indignation.

“What are you gonna do, bite me?” you challenge, hand still buried in his fur. “Grow up.”

You turn to Johnny, who’s making a great show of looking pathetic, tail down and ears back.

“Got to bed,” you instruct, pointing with your other hand to the cushion Ghost is on. Those two are thick as thieves, you’re sure Johnny will feel better after some cuddles. Sure enough, Johnny drags his feet over to ghost, who grumbles as he makes room for the other dog.

You let Skipper go, who makes a big scene of shaking off. But he doesn’t go making trouble with Johnny, so you let him be. Which leaves Konig, who isn’t making eye contact with anyone.

“You alright, baby boy?” you croon. He licks your offered hand.

You manage to finish getting the sock on in peace, dropping a kiss to the scar on his forehead.

“My little trooper, good boy,” you murmur.

With him settled, you sit back with a sigh. Skipper is sitting, looking mighty offended. You groan.

“I’m sorry, honey,” you offer, extending a hand to him. “I was just stressed and all that fussing freaked me out. I know you were just trying to help.”

A long, long look at your palm. And then he sighs and sets his chin in your hand. You waste no time scritching along his jaw, coaxing him closer until you can leave kisses all over his muzzle and forehead.

“Big strong boy,” you coo, grinning into his ears when you see his tail sweeping slowly back and forth. Like he doesn’t want you to notice. “Such a good helper. Thank you, handsome.”

Peace restored, you settle onto the couch until dinner time.

So yes, four wolf-hybrids is pushing it on space.

—

You’re being minded.

It would be funnier if your dog wasn’t better at taking care of you than you are.

“You must have been in service dog training or something,” you muse, accepting the pill bottle from Skipper’s mouth. “Someone wanted you to work.”

And work he does.

If it’s not helping you keep the boys in line, it’s patrolling the yard with Ghost. Or nudging you to eat at mealtimes. Or putting you to bed. Hes a busy boy, hardly ever settles on the couch with the rest at night for snuggle time.

And when you do strong arm him into it, his ears are perked at every little noise, ready to protect.

There’s also this. The bringing you meds. (You try not to think about how he managed to get into the cabinet. Maybe you left them out on the counter?) Or sometimes he picks up things you’ve dropped, like pens or keys or even your phone.

It’s sweet, but you worry he’s bored. When you do buy him enrichment toys though, he gives them a perfunctory sniff, then leaves them for one of the others. (Johnny in particular loves the treat puzzles.) So you figure he’s stimulated enough, considering bored dogs usually tear into anything and everything.

“You know I’m supposed to take care of you right?” You tease, patting his big, sturdy side. “I take care of everyone here. You’re my boys.”

Skipper snorts and sits down, watching you, eyes pinging between your face and the pills. You huff, amused despite yourself.

“Alright, alright! Rude mutt.”

A little “boof” — agreement or offense? You amuse yourself with anthropomorphizing his noises while you chug water with your meds.

“See? Done. Ta-da!” You say when they’re done.

Another “boof” and then he’s trotting off. Pauses to give you a significant look. You check the time. Right, it’s lunchtime. Best to take meds with food anyway.

“I’m coming,” you groan, shuffling after him.

All the dogs are waiting for you in the kitchen, big eyes and perked ears.

“Look at you lot,” you laugh, dropping a scratch to Ghost’s head as you pass. “What is this, an intervention. I’m not giving you guys enough peanut butter?”

Skipper ignores you, taking his usual place at the entrance to the kitchen. A good vantage point to keep an eye on you and the rest of the house. He only accepts a little bit of shared food after everyone else gets a bite. You hum as you consider all of them, crammed into your kitchen because they’re a clingy lot.

“Might be time for a move, guys,” you sigh. “Or maybe another story.”

You glance at the ceiling with dread. Either way, you’re not looking forward to it.

Main Story | Price pt.1 | Gaz

Masterlist

[andy-15-07]

Our joy

masterlist ! pairing: Corionalus Snow x reader

SUMMARY :During the nights spent in the office and with the obligations of the president of Panem, when he gets home he goes where he needs to, to his wife and daughter.

GENRE: fluff, loveeee , dad!Corionalus

Opening the door to the bedroom he shares with his beautiful wife, Y/n. They knew each other since they were little, through their parents, and since then they remained best friends, but during the Academy, Coryo confessed his love for Y/n.

Through what they went through together, their relationship remained close and loving even during the period when Coriolanus was away in District 12 as a peacekeeper. They always found methods of communication, on the phone, letters.

Coryo scans the bedroom for the other person who makes him smile even in the hardest moments, his beautiful daughter, Athena Snow.

He changes his mind and decides to go see what his treasure is doing and there he finds his beautiful daughter, who is 3 months old.

When I open my eyes, I look at the clock and notice that it's past midnight, turning to the side where Coryo sleeps next to me, with his arms around me but I meet his side is empty.

I decided to go see what my daughter is doing, if she needs anything. Putting my robe and slippers on me, coordinate my way out of te room in the dark , walking down the hallway right to Athena's room . I see some dim light coming from inside and now I'm sure Coriolanus is in there , but arriving I am welcomed by the sweetest and most innocent picture.

My husband sitting in the rocking chair in the corner, only in his pajama pants , with our daughter in his arms, her head resting on his bare chest, her tiny hands pressed against his skin, sleeping peacefully, as if she had no reason to take care in the whole world. Well, she really doesn't have it when she has her father to take care of her.

Standing at the door, I take a moment to admire this beautiful view. I knew that my dear husband is an amazing father, even before Athena was born.

Coriolanus was attentive to his little girl who was sleeping so beautifully in his arms, that he did not see me standing in the doorway.

"Hello love, I hope we didn't disturb you." Coryo says to me and extends his hand towards me, a sign that he makes for me to go next to him, which I accept and sit next to him.

"Hello, you didn't disturb me. Did Athena start crying? I didn't hear her."

"She wasn't. I came home, so I came to check up on her and she was up, so I thought I would try to put her to sleep before she starts the usual show."

He slowly stood up, careful not to wake Athena, but as long as she is on his chest, I know she won't be fussing anytime soon. I watch him put her back into the crib, pulling her little blanket over her.

"She grew up so fast. I feel like it was just yesterday when you told me you were pregnant" says Coryo and examines our daughter.

"She is very beautiful, she has your eyes, your curly hair, maybe when she grows up she will also have your initiative. She is our girl, Coryo." The two of you stand at the crib, staring down at the tiny sleeping girl in awe , I'll never get enough of her. I snake my arms around Coriolanus's waist and he pulls me close to him, kissing the top of my head.

"Y/n thank you for everything you did for me, you gave me a daughter. You make me the happiest man in all of Panem" he says and pulls me closer to him and kisses me.

"Coryo, I thank you for everything."

"Y/n Snow I love you so much that I would do anything for you. And I love you too my little Athena."

"I love you too Coriolanus Snow."

With all that happened in the past, but from now on we will focus on our future, our daughter's and the future of Panem. With Coriolanus as President and me as First Lady, everything will be fine.

[russellsppttemplates]

More Dad!Lando, please! How about a colicky Fraiser, a frazzled yn and dad Lando to rh rescue?

Cw: mentions baby's colic, postpartum recovery from c-section

"It's okay, my love, you're okay, mummy is right here", you cooed as you changed Fraser's nappy, "nearly done and then you can feel better hopefully", you sighed, finishing it and rubbing the baby's tummy like you remembered the nurses teaching you how to do in the hospital.

You weren't even sure what time it was, having decided against staying in your bedroom and moving to the nursery so Lando could rest. Even though Fraser slept with you and not in the nursery, you still had all the furniture in there for once you made the transition and right now it was proving to be useful, even if it didn't have a clock anywhere in sight and the lack of sleep was catching up to you.

"I know it hurts, I'm sorry, my love, mummy's doing the best she can - good, good, let all of that wind out", you smiled a little before he started crying again, "Oh, baby, let's have a cuddle", you lowered your top, letting him feel your skin on his after you unbuttoned the top of his babygrow.

The cold bed next to Lando let him know you hadn't been in the bedroom for quite some time, making him stand up and look for you, heading to the nursery since Fraser wasn't in his cot either. The sight before him pulled on his heartstrings. First, because his wife and snuggling your baby, another little one you were blessed enough to bring to the world, and even if you didn't believe it sometimes, the way you looked mothering his children was his favourite - you were the best mummy for them. Second, however, it pulled on his heartstrings because it was noticeable how much it was taking a toll on you. You still looked beautiful - that would never be a question - but he couldn't help but notice the dropped shoulders, the way your movements were still slow and needing you to think before moving a certain way so it wouldn't hurt, and how frazzled you looked.

"Hey, you two", Lando cooed, getting your attention as you bounced the baby around, "would you like daddy's help?", he mused.

Your nod was all he needed to scoop the baby boy and settle him in your chest, rubbing his back as he seemed to nestle into his father's naked chest, "you're not a happy little guy, are you? Is your tummy giving you trouble, Fraser?", Lando cooed as the cries didn't quite settle.

"He was fussing so much and I didn't want to wake you, so we moved here", you explained the reason why you didn't stay in the bedroom as usual.

"You should've woken me up, love, but it's okay, I'm here now", Lando smiled, kissing your forehead softly, "maybe some massages will help? You can lay on mummy and daddy can rub your tummy", he suggested.

"I did them for a bit, but he looked like he needed some comforting too", you mumbled.

You sat on the big chair, shuffling the pillows to make yourself comfortable before Lando set Fraser on your torso, his head nestled over your boobs as his father undid the rest of his babygrow, his fingers starting to massage his belly and slowly working all that was bothering him out, "you like being in mummy's chest, don't you?", Lando smiled, "daddy likes it too, but you've all but stolen it from me these days - it's okay though", he attempted to break a smile on your tired features.

Soon enough, Fraser settled down, falling asleep on Lando's chest once he got him back to snuggle into it, swaying from side so side was you did the same, sandwiching you son between you per your husband's request, "no one is alone in this, darling", he said as he pulled you to hug his waist.

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

[lovifie]

Newdad!Ghost and Newmom! Reader having their child’s first fever…

I did ramble a bit about this before having the baby, I hope you don't mind ❤️ Also, I have no experience with babies so I hope I didn't write anything completely nonsense

Fluff | 1076 words | Back to Masterlist

Simon Riley thought that he was no longer a coward.

That the years spent in the military were enough to make him a brave man.

That there was nothing left to make him stutter on his words or feel his knees wobble.

That's what he thought though.

Because ever since the second you came out of the bathroom, positive pregnancy test on hand; he's been terrified, elated but terrified.

Terrified of something bad happening, to you, to the baby, to him... The thought of leaving you alone terrified him the worst.

But nothing happened.

You were already in the last trimester, almost past your due date and everything was perfect.

Whenever you saw the nerves getting the best of Simon you jumped to console him, reassuring him everything would be fine.

He felt horrible, he should be the one taking care of you, not the other way around. So plush and round with his offspring, the baby already sucking your energy.

"Big fucking bairn." As Soap once called it before getting smacked on the back of the head.

It was true, nonetheless, but still.

It was one day, when he saw you wobbling your way to the kitchen that it finally set on his mind.

He was about to be a father.

And fuck if he wasn't going to be the best one out there.

Now that it was the third trimester he could finally put in his parental leave, going home to you and helping with everything.

He finally got to building the crib, fixing the leaky faucet, changing the clothes in the closet for the winter one.

Everything was ready.

He wasn't, of course; when the contractions finally started. And he panicked when you said it was too early to go to the hospital.

5:40. That was the rule you keep repeating.

40 seconds contraction, every 5 minutes.

But he still struggled to stay strong whenever you would groan, holding onto the sink to steady yourself to breathe.

Once he finally managed to get you to the hospital, everything became a blur. He barely managed to send your family a message about the baby coming, and when he went to notify his family, he simply sent Price a message that said: "Baby now. Hospital."

Everything went smoothly, pride overflowing from his heart whenever he would look at you. He was hypnotized by the baby; looking so much like you but his features still looking back at him.

He kissed your forehead, thanking you for reviving Simon Riley. The man he buried so long ago, now rebirth as your daughter's dad.

He could feel people coming in and out of the room but completely ignored them, too busy staring at you and the baby.

Gaz even made you laugh, talking about how he thought pregnancy brain only happened to moms and that he thought Simon must have hit his head on the way in.

The look of unfiltered fear on the four men when the newborn started fussing around from the crib made you laugh. They quickly turned to see what the threat was, only for the baby to start crying at the top of her tiny lungs making the four men jump.

"She must be hungry." You say, leaning forward and looking at Simon. "Can you hand her to me, Si?"

He immediately did, holding the tiny baby with all the care the mountain of a man could muster. Passing her to you, and turning to the men talking about decency and giving you privacy.

They walked out, Price dropping a kiss on your head congratulating you once more on the job well done, leaving you, Simon and the baby.

The three of you.

His tiny family.

That he would kill and die in order to protect.

So he found himself useless, looking at you trying to calm the baby down when she wouldn't stop crying and her fever would keep rising.

He was at the door frame, seeing you pace the room, cleaning the baby's face with a damp cloth. He could see it on your face, the worry, the exhaustion, the fear... How have you hidden it so well? How has he not seen it before?

"She's over 39°, Si." You say, voice trembling with the knot in your throat.

"Let's go to the hospital." He said, grabbing the baby bag and your coat, and opening the door. He could see your doubt, the fear of what taking the baby back to the hospital meant for you. "C'mon, mama. The sooner we get there, the sooner we'll be back."

He needed to be strong right now, he has laid back for long enough. He saw the little cracks on you and he was going to fill them before you noticed them.

Simon Riley thought he was brave.

But he has never been as afraid as when he was driving, baby in the car seat and you sitting beside him in the back. Silent tears sliding down your face as you apologised to the crying baby.

It made him want to skip every red light, get there as soon as possible, so the doctors could tell you that you made the right choice, that you did a good job.

But he would rather relive his nightmare of a life a thousand times before doing such a stupid thing of putting you both at risk.

He sees the way you hug yourself when the nurse takes the baby away, and he quickly engulfs you in a hug. Protecting you from the cold of the night, protecting you from every danger outside and protecting you from every thought inside your brain.

"Everything is going to be alright, mama." He says, kissing your head. Heart sinking when he hears you sob and hug him back. "Everything will be alright, this happens, babies get sick sometimes. It doesn't mean you aren't doing a hell of a job, alright?"

You sob on his chest, tugging his shirt on your hands.

"You are an amazing mother, love. You are doing an amazing job. Our little tadpole has the best mom in the world." He says, swinging softly side to side, rocking you, petting your head. "She'll be fine. She's brave just like you, love. She'll be fine. We'll be fine."

Because Simon Riley always thought he was brave, but as long as you two were alive; he was a coward and losing you both was his biggest fear.

[ma1dita]

Duddee, now you gotta write luke proposing to trouble, you simply cannot now IBHBHKK

the perfect weekend

a ‘partners in crime’ alternate universe installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

alternate universe masterpost

words: 1.2k (this was too cute the word count escaped me)

summary: alternate universe - the perfect weekend with your perfect boy, even if he thinks otherwise

a/n: happy luke happy luke happy luke FIANCE LUKE 

(posted 2/4/23 unbetad and written on caffeine)

—

This weekend felt like a dream.

Luke took you to your favorite spots that you’ve both carved memories out of in Westport, buying you and his mom gorgeous fresh flowers from the farmers’ market, and he let you drag him around his hometown, spending hours in tiny antique shops and the record store on Main Street. He couldn’t get over how you always found fun in the simple things— even going to the pharmacy to pick up his mom’s medication felt like going to Disney World with you. He couldn’t be more sure of his decision, it was almost inconceivable to spend another day without you being his fiancee.

But luck wasn’t known to be on his side, after all (yeah, thanks dad). Luke’s always had to work harder to get what he wants, and he’s spent the past few years trying to prove himself to your dad—though deep down, he thinks Mr. D doesn’t mind him as much as he makes it seem. (Asking him for his blessing last week over a bottle of wine and a bone-shaking hug scared the wits out of him. He pretended to not notice the god cry.)

Luke just wants to give you what you deserve. And if he needs to spend the rest of his life working on it to prove it, he ought to do it with you by his side.

But he couldn’t think of how.

He tried proposing over dinner last night, with the smell of burnt cookies in the air, but that wasn’t romantic at all, and his hands were shaking so hard he knocked a glass over, prompting you and his mom to fuss over the mess and giggle over his silliness. You both chatted deep into the night, Luke sitting quietly and nodding at two of his favorite women babbling about who knows what (Sometimes he’s still convinced you like his mom more than him, but the way you both take care of him makes him tear up if he thinks too hard about it).

When you went horseriding this afternoon, he set up a picnic for lunch, which was romantic. Chocolate-covered strawberries and sandwiches made by mom, sparkling cider twinkling in the sun. Luke was sure it was going to be great timing— until he realized the ring box fell out of his pocket again, and he slipped in manure trying to rush you back to the house (The sound of your laughter at clumsiness made his heart warm though, and it almost made up for the three hours he looked for the stupid box in the grass that night when you fell asleep with his tiny Star Wars-themed flashlight).

He woke you up early before the sun rose, carrying you out to the car still bundled up in his old Toy Story throw blanket that you wouldn’t let him toss out when he brought it to college (The faded pictures of Buzz and Woody kept a smile on your face, and the memories it brought make you feel connected to 9-year-old Luke). The drive to the beach was short, a sleepy smile on your face as you felt Luke grab onto your hand, sand getting between your toes before he laid out a blanket and the both of you sat down.

Cracking open a redbull for the both of you to sip on, you leaned against his muscled frame, legs hanging over his lap as he wiped the sand off your feet, holding you close as he smiled.

“Good morning, handsome,” you grinned, leaning up for a kiss. Luke obliged, savoring the taste of you mixed with sleep and artificial peach. Your noses nudge against each other before he mumbles a reply, “Good morning, pretty girl.”

“Y’know? I could die happy just like this. I can’t think of anything else that would make this weekend more perfect.”

Luke hummed in contemplation, “I could think of a few things,” he said, as a laugh bubbled from his lips. A noise of confusion rose from you as you reached up to dust lint off his shirt before your knee nudged something hard in his pocket, and your eyebrow raised in mischief.

“Dirty boy, you get me out of your mom’s house and you’re already excited?”

And he laughed the stress off until it freed itself from his bones, pure elation radiating off of him before Eos even had a chance to spread her first rays of light into the sky. 

He’s never needed perfect.

He just needs you.

His hands dug into his pocket, pulling out the ring box that’s caused him so much trouble this weekend. But a life with you should’ve already prepared him for that—and the shock on your face became funnier when you launched yourself on top of him, kicking up sand and taking the air out of his lungs.

You both hit the ground with a loud thud, your nose buried in his chest as he chuckles at your scream. Why was he even worried to begin with? 

“Wait, wait, I still have something to say trouble, don’t jump ahead of the script!”

His hand rubbed your back in gentle strokes as he popped the box open to reveal a delicate golden band with two diamonds juxtaposed against each other sitting pretty on top.

“It’s always been you and me. And I’ve spent hours thinking of what to say, days trying to figure out when the time would be right, months working for a pretty ring that’s perfect for you, years loving you… and well… I want more. I want this, you and me spending the rest of our lives together because I can’t comprehend a future without you. I’d do anything for you trouble, and I don’t believe in much, but I believe in you. Us.”

You’ve cried so hard by this point that you’re convinced it’s so goddamn ugly but Luke smiles at you like he’s been promised immortality. And perhaps he has, with the future you two will have scrolling through his mind like an old film, a house on a hill, kids, a dog, shit—whatever you want as long as he’s with you it’ll be the closest thing to forever he’d have.

“Are you sure?” you said sniffling, and your boyfriend wiped your tears away like he has countless times before, though happy tears are something he’ll have to get used to.

“I literally ruined your proposal, I just thought you were horny, oh my gods…” Whining loudly and laughing, you held your shaking hand out as he sat up to put the ring on your finger.

“Well, we can fix that later. I still have a question to ask, after all.”

Luke grinned when your head nodded rapidly, finally shutting up so you wouldn’t interrupt him again.

“Will you,” he says so surely now, saying your name before continuing, “let me have the honor of spending the rest of our lives together as your husband?”

“Gods, yes. Fucking hell angelface, did you really think I’d say no?”

The both of you laughed through tears and snot as he placed the ring on your left hand, and still, it couldn’t be more perfect.

“A life with trouble is the life for me,” he mused, laughing as you covered his face in kisses before the both of you fell back into the sand a tangle of lips and lust and love.

You jolted up from your fiance’s embrace just as he thought he was going to get lucky, almost emptying your entire wallet of drachmas into the sand-covered blanket to Iris message your friends.

---

(pics are not representative of reader's appearance or gender just a lil visual for funsies)

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[l0vergirlv0mit]

not a smut request, but abby or ellie comforting an upset reader who's got runny mascara and tears down her face🥲?

A/n: You requested this sooo long ago sorry I’m just now writing it😞 but thank you once again for a BANGER request comfort is favorite to write 🤭🤭🤭

Pairing: abby anderson x reader

warning: reader in emotional distress

You’d held back tears the whole way home from work. Your throat hurt from choking them down for the past 2 hours at least. Now you were finally at the front door of your home, your hand shaking as you try to unlock the door.

It only made you more frustrated unable to steady your hand. The tears finally breaking through as you got the key in the hole. Your vision was blurred as you walked into the house and put your things down. The tears fully streaming down your face in silence.

Abby had worked from home today and called to you from the living room. You didn’t even try to process what she said as you walked to your shared bedroom and then into the attached bathroom.

You closed the bathroom door to take a moment to silently sob. Your boss completely berated you before you left work talking about how your performance was not up to par and threatening to fire you. It was completely uncalled for given you were one of the best workers in the office. It scared you more than anything, it made you feel weak that you were making such a fuss over a threat.

Every worry spun around in your mind as you sat in the edge of the tub. A soft knock sounded from the door bringing you out of your chaos of a mind. Abby was on the other side listening to your struggle breaths and sniffles worried sick. “H-honey? Can I come in?” She said tentatively, when you had ignored her and walked right past her you were wearing a facial expression she’d never seen before and couldn’t read. She didn’t know if she had done something to make you upset and it made her stomach hurt with concern.

You looked up at the ceiling as if trying to connect to a higher power and tried taking a deep breath. You didn’t want Abby to see you like this but she was probably the only person in the world that would make you feel even remotely ok right now.

“Yeah come- come in Abby.” You had to stop halfway through to choke down the tears that came up again. She opened the door carefully peaking at you, you gave her a weak tight lipped smile. “Oh baby” Abby whispered quickly entering the room and closing the door. “Oh my god, oh my god what happened?!” She walked over and kneeled between your legs getting eye level. She was almost frantic looking over your wet face.

She pushed stray hairs behind your ears and held your cheeks tenderly. It became too much and you began to cry again. You felt too vulnerable and grab Abby’s hands taking them and holding them in your lap, then looking down as if trying to hide from her. She feels tears nearly come up at the sight of her inconsolable lover.

She gets up from the floor and pulls you into her. Her strong arms keep you up and in place securely. She presses your head into her chest not caring about how your wet mascara was staining her shirt and the other arm holds your waist keeping you on your feet. She left a kiss on the top of your head and held you until you had calmed down again. Whispering sweet words to you making you feel as safe as possible.

You finally calmed and stilled in her arms and she pulls back looking at you concerned. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to ok honey.” She said practically whispering taking the softest tone she could. You shook your head deciding to speak.

“My b-boss basically told me I suck at my j-job a-a-nd he could fire me soon if he wanted.” You shrugged defeated and to exhausted to get angry about it. Your words shaky trying to push past sniffing and hyperventilation. Abby on the other hand looked like she was going to kill someone. But she’d be lying if it didn’t relieve her that it wasn’t her fault that you were upset. “That doesn’t make any sense you work so fucking hard for that company.” She strains to keep her voice nice and sweet for you as she imagines turning your bosses face into a pulp.

“He was so m-mean Abby.” You hiccup and her heart breaks over and over again. She cups your face making you look at her. “I’m so sorry honey.”Abby just about wanted to ball hearing your voice become so small and depleted. “I’m s’scared Abby.” Abby shook her head at this. “No, no, there’s no reason, just know that if anything happens I’ll take care of you. Ok?” Abby’s eyes watered fully taking on your distress. Anger rumbled around in her chest but she knows that’s not what you needed right now. You need her sweet words she’d plan a hit on your boss later. “What can I do to make you feel better?” Her thumb rubs your cheek removing some of the runny mascara and she looks over your whole face lovingly.

You hiccup again before answering. “I j-just wanna lay down and sleep.” Your so so tired barely having any energy to speak. Your words nothing but soft whispers to keep from crying again. Abby nods letting you go and walking into the bedroom.

She comes back with her large hoodie and your comfy sleep shorts. You already feel better knowing how taken care of you are. Abby sets the clothes down pulling your make up remover out of the cabinet putting it on a cotton pad and gently taking your now smudged makeup off. She works quietly the only sounds in the room being your sniffles and hiccups.

“Your so pretty baby.” Abby whispered getting a small tired smile out of her sweet tired girl making her smile even bigger. She placed a kiss on your forehead once she finished. “All clean.” She said feeling accomplished. She made quick work of helping you into your pjs and putting your hair into braids to get it off your neck.

You both walk into the bedroom Abby pulls up the covers for you to get into the bed and lays down with you. She let you come to her, nuzzling into her contently. Abby tangled together with you, and she scratched your back comfortingly. You let your eyes close and fell asleep quickly so desperate to forget the day. “I’ll wake you up when dinners ready.” Abby whispered before carefully maneuvering to not wake you up and slipping away into the kitchen.

Thank you for reading tehehe

[totalswag]

dinner and sunsets — DREW STARKEY

authors note first off, thank you all so much for the love on my last two fics. writing this took me a few days and i wrote over 2k words too. i hope y’all enjoy reading. feedback is always appreciated <3

summary drew has been gone filming his upcoming movie in Italy for a few months. you make the decision to fly out to surprise him with your three month old daughter.

warnings none just a bunch of cuteness of dad!drew with baby his baby girl.

Drew has been filming in Europe for quite some time now. When he first left it was extremely hard because you guys are usually together. Tears were falling from your faces dropping him off at the airport. In all seriousness, you couldn’t be more proud of him and all his accomplishments he’s done to get where he’s at now in career.

Leaving was hard for Drew because he was leaving you and your four month old daughter, Tatum, home while he’s thousands of miles away. You knew you would come visit him and see what Europe is like. So, that’s what you did. The plane ride was long but it was worth it the moment you made it to Italy. 

For the most part Tatum did a good job before and during the flight. There were moments where she would fuss and cry but settled down once you calmed her down. In other words, flying with a baby isn’t easy. 

Drew’s manager and you have been texting back and forth about the whole thing. When you got to Drew’s apartment he’s been living in, you were in complete awe when you walked into his bedroom where a picture of Tatum and you were placed on his night stand. His manager said that he would be coming back in an hour once they are done filming for the day.

Tatum laid on her back kicking her feet like all over the place and making a bunch of noise while you unpacked your clothes. Tatum was a spitting image of Drew especially in the eyes and especially the facial expressions she makes. She continues to grow by the day, you wish time didn’t fly by so fast.

“Are you excited to see daddy?” grabbing both her tiny feet, moving them up and down, making her giggle at your gesture. 

An hour passes, Tatum’s sleeping, and you are on your computer looking up stuff. You look up from your computer to your phone, Drew should be here any minute, you thought. Taking your phone, placing it towards the door to get Drew’s reaction, and hitting record when you heard the front door open. Surprisingly Tatum didn’t wake up from his walking inside.

Footsteps slowly made their way towards the bedroom. Your heart is beating at a rapid pace as he gets closer to his room. Taking a seat by the edge of the bed, placing both hands on your lap. Drew’s on his phone typing when he enters the room, you playfully roll your eyes, clearing your throat to grab his attention.

He looks up from his phone quickly.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me” his face lit up once he saw his two beautiful girls on his bed waiting for him. He puts his phone in his pocket, opening his arms. 

“Hi baby” you run into his arms, “i missed you so fucking much” you whispered softly.

“I miss you guys so much, you have no idea” he explains, placing both hands on your cheeks, and kissing you on the lips. Fireworks exploding in your stomach as your lips touch.

You let Drew pull away first. You guys just stare at each other, not saying a word. He wipes the tears from your cheeks with his thumb. You don’t know what you would do without him in your life. 

Drew goes to open his mouth but is interrupted by Tatum yawning; you let out a chuckle when he shuts his mouth then grins, looking at Tatum who’s opening her eyes.

“My little angel is up from her nap, huh?” he coo’s with the biggest smile. You see a smile creep up Tatum's mouth from her dad’s words. She gets a little too excited and starts moving her body – she usually gets like this with Drew.

He picks her up, placing her on his hip, and kissing the top of her head. The bond they share is unbelievable. From the moment Drew held Tatum in his arms you knew they were meant for each other. Before you got pregnant all Drew would talk about was he wanted a girl for his first child and when he found out, he couldn’t stop crying. 

He was so relieved to see you both. Every text, facetime, and phone call, he always mentioned how much he misses his girls and wishes you were here. Now he has you both, he feels complete and so do you.

“When did you guys get in?” he asks.

“About two hours ago. She slept for most of the time and I took a little nap too” you explain, taking the last set of clothing from your suitcase.

“How long are you staying?” He says without hesitation.

“A month” you said dragging the th at the end.

His jaw drops.

“This is the happiest day of my life.”

“I’m glad you got here safe though. I think we should stay in for the rest of the day and relax since my two beautiful girls had a very long flight to see daddy” Drew exclaims while making eye contact with Tatum, lightly tickling her with his right pointer finger. Little giggles left her mouth.

“Sounds like a good idea to me” you smile, admiring the two. 

Two days go by, Italy is so beautiful. You don’t want to leave this place. Drew brought you and Tatum on set to watch him film a few scenes and meet the cast. Going to the museum was one of your favorite things to do as a family and especially looking around the markets with all the fresh fruits and vegetables then buying them afterwards.

Spending time as a family makes your heart full.

Drew wanted to take you out to this amazing restaurant he went to with a few cast members one of the first weeks he arrived. He wasn’t kidding when he said the pasta was to die for. The service was great, pasta tasted delicious, and the wine was unbelievable. 

The sunset looked absolutely stunning from your perspective. With the music playing in the background and lights made the experience feel magical. You grabbed your phone from your purse, taking a couple pictures.

You told him what life’s been like back home – you’ve been busy with work, hanging out with friends, planting flowers in front of the house, and taking care of Tatum obviously. 

Drew talked about filming and how it’s been going for the last few months. One of the things he said that stood out the most is how proud he is of himself for coming this far and never giving up. Actually tears started to build in your eyes. 

“Baby, you saying that makes me so happy because you’ve gone through so much in your career. This job you have right now is huge for you and the fact you got the role is even a bigger accomplishment” you say with joy.

“Thank you baby, that means a lot to me”, taking a hold of your hand, gently squeezing it.

After Drew paid for dinner, he insisted you guys take a walk around for a bit and you agreed. The weather felt nice with the breeze.

Drew pushed the stroller with Tatum in her car seat playing with her toys— she started putting one of them in her mouth and talking to herself in her own baby language. It caught Drew and you off guard.

After dinner you guys decided to walk around the area and try to get Tatum to close her eyes. Since you are staying for a month, you want her to get used to the time change. You guys walked into a shop with a bunch of snacks; you couldn’t take your eyes off the varieties of different snacks which aren’t like the snacks in the states.

Picking out a few snacks that caught your eye and bringing it to the cashier. Drew recommended these chips he really likes.

“Should we walk around more or start making our way to the apartment” you suggested, putting the bag with the snacks under the stroller. 

He thinks for a second, scrunching his eyebrows together, “let’s walk around.”

“I can’t believe you are staying for a month with me” Drew beamed, placing a kiss on your head then softly patting your lower back.

“I can’t believe it either. Flying with a three month old definitely is not easy but this will be an amazing month with my husband and our baby girl where we’ll make memories that will last for a lifetime” you say with honesty in your voice. You meant every word you said too.

Drew called his manager that you guys were ready to be picked up and where you guys were waiting. Tatum started to get fussy in her carseat– she was uncomfortable in the position she’s been in for thirty minutes. 

When she sees Drew reaching in to unbuckle her she calms down instantly. She lets out a dramatic sigh making Drew and you laugh.

You bring your hand up to Tatum’s face, gently brushing your thumb across her cheek like you always do when admiring her cute face. As your thumb touches her cheek, she shyly turns her head into Drew’s chest.

You were about to say something about how cute they look but were interrupted by Drew's name being called from a group of girls across the street catching your guys attention right away. Since you arrived in Italy a few fans have asked for a picture with Drew or you.

Drew waves the girls over, they squeal when he acknowledges them. They introduced themselves the second they stood in front of you three. Tatum’s face went from happy to why is there a group of girls in front of me. 

When the girls saw Tatum they all said aww and complimented her outfit you picked out for her tonight. Fans don’t always get to see Tatum out like this but when they do, you guys kindly ask them to not take video or pictures of her.

“Can we please get a picture please?” one of the young girls asked nervously. 

“Of course we can, Y/N can you take her” you nod, taking her in your arms.

You held Tatum in your arms while Drew talked with his fans. They were so sweet and respectful the whole time. They started asking you questions about how the trips have been and what it’s like being a mom. 

Ten minutes later, Drew’s manager pulls up behind the girls. He gives them one last hug before parting ways with them. You could tell by the look on their faces that they didn’t want to say goodbye, that made your heart break. Tatum was already strapped in her carseat when he walked over to put her in the middle seat.

The drive back to the apartment wasn’t bad. When you walked into the apartment you guys made your way towards the bedroom. Only thing on your mind was taking a shower. Drew stayed with Tatum while you freshened up then showered after you. Tatum was able to get her bath in like she usually does. 

Drew gave her a bath while you did your skin care, brushed your teeth, and put lotion on. Giggles from Tatum filled the bathroom while you were in the middle of washing your face. You walked out of the bedroom to the washer to wash your towels then back to the party in the bathroom

You could hear Drew talking to Tatum as you got closer to the room. You stop your tracks when you enter the room, leaning against the wall, listening to Drew talking.

“You are the cutest baby on this earth” you can imagine the smile on his face as said those words. “You even have your moms beautiful smile too. You are lucky to call her your mommy. I’m so lucky to have you both in my life.”

Your hand lands on your mouth. Why does he have to be so sweet all the time? 

His head turns when he hears you walk in. He smiles at you as you lean down, giving him a kiss on the lips. He pulls away but you grab his face kissing him again. 

“I love you, you know that” whispering in his ear. “I know and I hope you know I love you more.” 

When you put your attention on Tatum, she had the biggest smile on her face when she splashed everywhere; her little legs and arms moving fast. Drew couldn't help but laugh at his daughter enjoying her bath. She loves getting her hair washed, she does this face where she closes her eyes and puts both hands in a fist and does this look like she’s in heaven. She has a lot of hair too.

“Are you enjoying your bath? It looks like you are having a grand old time” Drew says in his baby voice, gently washing Tatums hair. She replies in her baby gibberish then brings her right hand to his wrist, gripping on it. She’s never done this before.

You both gasps, turning your heads making eye contact. The look on his face says it all. You scoot closer, laying your head on his shoulder. 

Once you were all settled for bed, Drew and you made your way to the bed. You breastfed Tatum till she fell asleep then handed her to Drew and had her on his chest while burping her with you laying by his side. 

Inside Drew felt complete with you here with him after being away for a few months. Having his baby girl on his chest and the love of his life lying next to him makes him smile in the moment.

Spending a month in Italy seems like it’s going to be filled with love and memories.

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[wileys-russo]

ok hear me out. mapi x ingrid x reader where reader gets a little minor injury. maybe a tweak in a knee or ankle. cue ingrid who is stubborn and doesn’t let you lift a finger (even tho you feel fine) and then there’s mapi who lets you get away with more than you should if you promise a few extra kisses

bed bound II m.león & i.engen

the very minute that your knee tweaked and you went down at training with a cry of pain, your entire body locked up and flooded with fear that it had happened again, those dreaded three letters which had almost ruined your career.

your girlfriends were the first by your side dropping down and fussing over you as you pushed them away, burying your head in your hands as the phsyio's arrived, gently ushering away the two girls who hovered anxiously nearby with the rest of the team.

"you are done for the day chica." mateo, a man you were far too close with given he'd been by your side your entire recovery, smiled apologetically as you gave in with a nod and a sigh.

at mateo's own nod his way jonatan was quick to call the girls back to training, mateo helping you to your feet as you assured you felt okay to walk and the pain was just a sudden shock.

"go! i'm okay." you mouthed to your two lovers who were still hesitantly hovering a few feet away, shooing them off as you carefully followed after mateo inside the training centre.

you were rushed off discreetly for a scan, alexia accompanying you and doing her best to take your mind off wandering to the worst possibility. having to take some time off for her own injuries she was the best possible person to have around you because she understood.

gratefully a few hours later and your results came back clear, it had only been a tweak.

but dismissed from training with the team to take the upmost caution for the next few days you found yourself back in the gym with alexia working on your own programs just like all those months ago.

the fact it was only a tweak however was not apparent to your girlfriends, who insisted on treating you like you were made from glass, banishing you to bed rest as if you'd broken your leg.

"ingrid i am fine!" you groaned loudly, smacking away the taller girls hands as she attempted to tuck you in. "you need to rest! please." the brunette sent you a firm look as you huffed but allowed her to continue.

"stop the pouting cari." mapi chuckled from the end of the bed, watching with crossed arms and an amused smile as ingrid fussed around you. "no! this is stupid. i wasn't told i needed bed rest by medical professionals, so why are you doing this?" you whined, head pushing back into the pillow with another groan.

"because elskling we love you and we care about you very very much." the brunette smiled, bending down and pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, smoothing your hair out of your face and pecking your lips a few times.

"well can you care less then? pretty please?" you smiled sarcastically, ingrid flicking your ear with a roll of her eyes and stealing one last kiss. "no. i have to go to the store but maría will be here so call her if you need anything! stay in bed and rest your knee, i mean it." your girlfriend warned seriously, you now the one to roll your eyes.

"baby?" "yes! okay fine." "thank you, i'll be back in a little bit and you're in charge love."

"hey! i am older and she is injured, why is she in charge?" mapi scoffed in disbelief, hands on her hips and eyes narrowed. "because you might be older but you are a child maría." ingrid smiled, pulling her into a searing kiss and cutting off her protests.

"but what if there is a fire? she is supposed to stay in bed." your girlfriend still challenged, the interaction admittedly bettering your mood a little.

"so if there is a fire you're going to just leave me in bed?" you now spoke up with a raised eyebrow. "no! that is not what i meant." mapi pouted, eyebrows knitted into a frown.

"she's still in charge and you, stay in bed!" ingrid pointed firmly between the two of you before grabbing her bag, her footsteps echoing through the hallway before the door closed and she was gone.

"movie?" you asked the blonde defender hopefully, if you were bound to bed the least you wanted was some company. "i have a meeting in five minutes mi amor, lo siento." mapi smiled apologetically as you groaned.

"not only am i being forced to stay in bed but now i am alone!" you glared up at her as she took a seat on the edge of the mattress. "i am also hungry." you huffed, your girlfriend running a hand through your hair with an amused smile.

"i shouldn't be more than an hour bebita. then i am all yours!" mapi promised as you sighed dramatically. "i will have wasted away by then." you flopped back into bed with your arms covering your face.

"if only i had two functioning arms to cook with…" you sighed again. "oh wait! i have four functioning limbs but just two overprotective girlfriends." you gasped sarcastically, earning yourself a light slap to the chest.

"cari we just-" "please." "no you heard ingrid you have to-"

"baby please. please, please, please, please, please-" you grabbed at her top and tugged her mouth down to meet yours, kissing her repeatedly in between each word.

"okay!" mapi eventually gave in with a groan, glancing at the time on her watch and realising her meeting started in one minute and it would take a lot longer than that to continue arguing back and forth with you.

"you owe me a lot more of these.” your girlfriend warned seriously, stealing one last kiss before standing up from the bed as you swung yourself out of the covers.

"-and we do not tell ingrid." mapi warned as you both agreed on that with a nod, the blonde giving you a once over look as you stood up, reassuring her with a smile and a little shake of your leg that you were okay.

and at that she rushed off toward the office and you made your way into the kitchen.

you took awhile to decide what you were in the mood for, never having been great at being decisive you rifled mindlessly through the fridge.

finally making a decision you gathered the neccesary ingredients and started to prep sitting down at the island to do most of it, hearing your girlfriends worries ring through at the back of your mind. though your knee did feel fine, you of all people also didn't want to risk anything unnecessarily.

you must have taken longer to make a choice on what to cook than you thought because midway through you felt a pair of arms wrap around your torso and a chin rest on your shoulder.

"hola princessa." you settled into her hold with a sigh of contentment, offering up a spoon of the vegetables you were sauteing toward her which she happily accepted. "perfect. just like you!" a sweet kiss to your cheek had a smile curling into your features as the defender clung on tightly, swaying the two of you lightly as she often would.

"so how many more ads do you need to make with google for that silly phone? or have they decided to actually hire a qualified marketing specialist." you teased, knowing full well just how much your girlfriend often struggled with thinking up what to do, the groan against your back enough to answer the question for you.

"five this month." mapi sighed, pressing a few kisses beneath your ear and pressing her face into your neck. "i don't know why you don't talk to your agent about it maría, you don't even use the phone besides the ads!" you laughed, your girlfriend having an iPhone she used day to day for most things.

"don't you maría me. i can’t stop ingrid but i thought i at least had you on my side princesa." her fingers gripped your hips in warning though her tone was playful and you jolted a little as her teeth nipped suddenly at your neck.

you withheld a moan and tried your best to stay focused on the two pans of food in front of you, not helped by the fact that the tattooed spaniard sucked, bit and nipped mark after mark into your neck.

"careful, don't burn your food bebita." she rasped teasingly into your ear, kissing gently over the fresh love bites as you felt her smirk into your neck.

~

"i am back loves!" you looked up hearing the front door open and close a couple of hours later, your fingers tangled in blonde hair as your girlfriend lay draped across you.

seconds later and ingrid appeared, smiling happily seeing you still in bed and face softening seeing mapi dead asleep beside you. "hola mi corazón." the brunette greeted you in spanish, bending down and meeting you in a gentle kiss.

"did you get what you needed amor?" you questioned with a raised eyebrow as the midfielder hummed and slid into bed with you, mapi stirring and exhaling deeply but otherwise remaining fast asleep and tightly attached to you.

"hey you promised that you would not watch ahead without me!“ ingrid realized the show you were watching and gasped at the betrayal. "you left me crippled, lonely and bored in bed for a few hours i needed something to occupy myself." you smiled as she rolled her eyes but mumbled something in norweigen, too fast for you to fully understand.

"so, you were in bed the whole time then?" "yes baby, just like you told me to."

"mm so what did maría cook you for lunch?" her hands tangled in your hair as your head dropped to rest on her shoulder, mapi remaining sound asleep, lulled by the rising and falling of your chest beneath her head.

"why?" you laughed curiously, a little taken aback by the question. "well amor because it looks like you had escalivada exactly the way your mama makes it, which maría does not know how to make. because you refuse to show her as you know it gets under her skin!" your body locked up at that, eyes widening a little.

"nothing to say elskling? normally you always have something to say." your girlfriends fingers found your chin, tilting your head up to meet her gaze as you opened and closed your mouth wordlessly. "mm that is what i thought." ingrid chuckled darkly.

"and these-" you hissed as her fingers moved to press gently into the sensitive hickies on your neck. "-i don't think you're being honest with me. and you know how i feel about lying." she smiled though her eyes told you all you needed to know.

"okay, but baby there is just one thing you need to know." "mm and what is that love?"

"you left me in charge, no? but it was all maría’s idea."

[penkura]

No One Better

Note: Ahh I didn't know how to go about this, but here it is! It's another in the OP Men as Dads series, but this one is ONLY Zoro and his son. I just had this idea after seeing this OC template on Pinterest, and I had to do it, I couldn't not. I have thoughts floating around for other characters in this same vein of calming down their children, and I will post them separately like this most likely! For now, please enjoy Zoro being a wonderful, soft dad to his little boy. 🥹 I want to have his babies so bad, where is my irl Zoro omg

Your son may be Zoro’s child too, but he’s a big crybaby when either of you are missing from his sight. He could be happily sitting in your lap or on Zoro’s chest, but when Keitaro notices one of you isn’t around, he immediately pouts and begins to cry. At first it’s legitimate tears, until he learns that he can get you with crocodile tears because that’s your baby boy, of course you’re going to run to him when he cries! You figured it out quickly when he instantly started to smile and coo at you the first time he cried crocodile tears to get your attention, Zoro didn’t believe you for a few weeks until your ten-month-old did it to him too. He just loves you and Zoro so much, he wants you both around him all the time.

Zoro is able to calm him down very easily, just by talking to Keitaro gently. An older woman on an island you stopped at was surprised to see how easily Keitaro calmed down and went from nearly sobbing to happy little giggles when Zoro just took him from you and started asking him what was wrong, why was he so upset all of a sudden (he couldn’t see Zoro standing nearby, that was the problem). The woman was highly impressed and said her own husband hadn’t been that good with their children, it made you smile and thank her for the compliment, since you knew Zoro would never.

Keitaro is big enough to sit up on your lap during a party between your crew, the Heart Pirates, and the Kid Pirates when the three of you run into each other. Members of your (now permanently) allied crews coo and fawn over your son, the youngest of all the crews, and he adores the attention he receives from all these new people. Once everyone goes back to drinking and playing games, you choose to stay to the side with Keitaro, keeping him from the alcohol and making sure he stays happy while everything goes on, and he does, looking around at everyone and giggling when he sees Luffy do something funny.

Keitaro is happy and calm until he realizes he doesn’t see Zoro anywhere, making your nearly year old son start to pout and fuss. You try your hardest to calm him down when he really starts to cry and kick his legs because he’s frustrated, quietly speaking to him and placing kisses on his little head to help.

“Hey, little guy,” you feel beyond relived when Zoro comes over, resting his arms on your thighs and getting nose to nose with your son, which starts to calm him down, “What’re you crying for?”

Keitaro slowly calms down, looking at Zoro cross-eyed at first before his eyes fully focus on him, starting to smile and coo again as he puts his tiny hands on Zoro’s face. It makes Zoro smile in return as he takes your son from you, intending to give you a small break.

“Let’s give mama a few minutes to enjoy the party too, yeah?” Zoro gently tosses your son in the air a few times, Keitaro letting out squeals and giggles in response.

You slip away to the girls for a while, Ikkaku giving you a smile and telling you how lucky you are with Zoro, causing you to look back at them with your own smile. Keitaro has his thumb in his mouth as he lays against Zoro’s chest where he can see you, content and slowly falling asleep, while your husband rubs his back to help him relax.

“He’s really the best dad to Keitaro, I couldn’t have asked for anything better.”

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Holidays! I really love your writing, thanks for taking the time to write these prompts! I would like some Lady Mo please!

a continuation of 52 53 54 55 56

Wei Wuxian is irritated to see Song Lan, Xiao Xingchen, and A-Qing seated as far as from the main table as possible, but knows saying anything about it won't do anyone any good. Besides, all three of them look as exhausted as he feels, and it's a reminder that he's not the only one that's had a tumultuous day.

He's hoping he can leave the banquet early and crawl into bed and maybe cry a little bit before Lan Zhan joins him. He wants to blame pregnancy for his weepiness, but the truth of it is he wasn't exactly stoic and dry eyed in his first life.

"Lady Mo," on the senior disciples booms, far louder than necessary considering he's right there, "why aren't you drinking? You're not in Cloud Recesses anymore!"

The wine is right there and he can't even have any. What a tragedy.

He glances to the side, catching Jin Guangyao's eye instantly and neither of them so much as twitch but he's sure they understand each other perfectly. He never thought this level of familiarity was something he'd share with Jin Guangyao, but he can't say that he minds.

He briefly considers putting up a fuss at being referred to improperly, considering the very blatant insult in there, but the truth of it is whenever someone refers to him as Jin he wants to throw up a little bit.

"Jin Zixun," Jin Guangyao says smoothly, "Madame Lan is simply adhering to the rules of her sect."

Aw, putting him in his place and reminding him of Mo Xuanyu's status without using the name Jin, because he knows Wei Wuxian hates that. He'd pinch Jin Guangyao's cheek if he didn't think it'd get his fingers bitten off.

The senior disciple scoffs. "Even Sect Leader Lan drinks at banquets. Why shouldn't Madame Lan be able too? Toast to a fruitful year with me!"

Hold on a second, hasn't this happened before? He has a vague memory of drinking for Lan Zhan because someone was causing a fuss. Is this the same guy? It can't be the same guy.

Whatever. He can do the same trick Lan Xichen does and burn the alcohol off with his golden core. Which is sort of a waste, but the sting of it down his throat with none of the fun side effects is the closest he's going to get for a while.

Lan Zhan stands so abruptly that the table he's sharing with his brother scrapes against the floor.

Oh great. What's he doing now?

By the slight twitch of Jin Guangyao's left eyelid, Wei Wuxian knows he's thinking the same thing.

[604to647]

Barón Tovar Takes a Wife

Third Movement (Presto agitato)

11K / Bridgerton AU Regency!Pero Tovar x fem!reader, a childhood best friends to lovers story

Summary: What do you do now that you realize you have feelings for the Barón?

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Pining and Angst. Semi public kissing, groping and sex. Someone comes in his breeches 🤷🏻‍♀️. F!oral, fingering, thigh riding, unprotected PiV. Pet names (spanish), Pero catches reader and gives her a little twirl once.

A/N: I'm sorry for the word count 😅😅 I feel like the pacing of this final part is kind of like season 1 of Bridgerton where it was like 5 episodes of flirting and then SMUTSMUTSMUT 🤭🤭 Just wanted to give our Spaniard and his Dulce a HEA, that's all! Please please correct my Spanish!! Google won't be offended! Thank you for reading along and hope you're looking forward to Season 3 of Bridgerton next week!

Series Masterlist 🎼 First Movement 🎼 Second Movement 🎼

The following morning you wake to your ladies’ maid gently shaking you and a massive headache.  Barely able open your eyes, so puffy from crying, you’re sure you gave her a terrible fright.  After asking for and drinking some water, you try using the cool glass to depuff your eyes and alleviate the pounding in your head, but no difference is made; you continue to feel positively awful.  Daphne comes into your room at the behest of the maid and immediately sees you’re much too unwell to entertain visitors today; it’s an easy decision to send all your suitors away and have them come back when you’re better.  When you start to apologize for causing a fuss, she immediately shushes you and insists you get rest - she will have the maids bring up some soothing tea.  You lay back down, exhausted, and drift off in the middle of telling her how much you love her.

---

Pero steps into Bridgerton House just as several young men are leaving; as they brush past him, he spots Colin speaking with a maid in the main foyer.

“Tovar! It’s been ages – how have you been?” Colin beams when he sees his friend. 

In truth, Pero is here to see you; he can’t quite get over the look of distress on your face when you left him last night.  Not for the first time, Pero silently curses Lord Ridlington for having sent over women to his house unsolicited last night, his apparent idea of a prank.  Leaving the women to themselves in a waiting room, Pero had been discussing with his butler the next course of action when you had surprised him beneath his window.  After you left, he made the proper arrangements for the women to leave discreetly, and had gone to bed thinking of you as usual. 

“I’ve been well, thank you.  Hope things have been going well here?  Have today’s suitors started their visits earlier than usual?” He gestures to another three men now descending the stairs and making towards the exit in an orderly line.

“No, my Lord,” the maid explains, “Miss is ill today.  Her suitors have been sent away and asked to return when she has recovered and is ready to receive visitors again.”

“Ill?!” How could you have taken ill when he just saw you?  Instantly Pero admonishes himself for having kept you standing outside last night - the night chill must have disagreed with you.  “Please,” he begs, “take me to see her.”

The maid looks panic stricken.  Surely this Spanish nobleman must understand the impropriety of a man being let in to the bed chambers of an unmarried woman.

Colin diverts her attention, “Marie, it will be okay.  Barón Tovar is an old family friend of the Count’s.  There is nothing improper afoot.  The door will remain open and you and I shall both be but a step away.”

With Mr. Bridgerton’s assurance, Marie the maid leads the two men to your door and opens it wide before stepping back to wait outside with Colin.  Pero walks into darkness, the curtains still drawn to help you sleep and ease the pain of your headache, but your magnetic pull leads him to you with no issue.

Kneeling by your bedside, Pero says your name softly, but you do not stir.  He goes to push aside some hair that’s fallen across your forehead and is alarmed when it feels hot to the touch; using the back of his hand to check your forehead and cheeks, he finds you clammy and feverish.  Shouting for Marie, both Colin and the maid rush in to Pero’s call, “Please find the Duchess!  Her friend is running a fever and a doctor needs to be called.  And please bring me a basin of cold water and a clean washcloth at once!”

Daphne rushes in minutes later to find Pero dabbing your forehead with the wet cloth that Marie procured, “Oh no!  I saw her this morning and knew she was unwell, but I did not think to check for a temperature!”

Shaking his head softly, Pero entreats the Duchess, “Do not blame yourself, your Grace.  Likely this morning she was not feverish when you saw her.  Please, has a doctor been called?”

The Duchess nods tearfully, grateful for Pero’s kind words and feeling a kinship with this man who clearly shares her tremendous concern for your well being. 

When the doctor arrives, Daphne stays in the room and gives Pero a nod of reassurance; he leaves begrudgingly though he knows you are in safe hands with the Duchess.  Hovering impatiently never more than a step away from the door, Pero breathes a sigh of relief when he overhears the doctor say that your temperature is no longer increasing, and that if kept cool and comfortable, your fever should easily break over the next day or two.  He vows to ensure both conditions are met to the best of his abilities until the moment you awake.

After the doctor leaves and Daphne has gone in search of a servant to fetch your father, Pero stays by your side, continuously stroking your hair gently and dabbing your hot skin with a cool cloth.  Every time Daphne passes by the open door of your room, she looks in to find Pero watching over you, brows furrowed, eyes full of concern and worry.  Sometimes the Duchess will see Pero’s lips moving, speaking gently to you - though she never hears the words he says, she can tell they’re heartfelt.  It becomes crystal clear to her that two weeks ago she had simply asked the Barón the wrong question; instead of “Do you intend to court her?”, she should have asked Pero: “Do you love her?”  The answer obvious. 

Pero never leaves your side, not when the Bridgerton women visit, or even when your father comes.  He just tucks himself into the corner of the room until their visits are over, as if afraid to leave you.  When it’s just him and you alone, he tries his best to make sure you’re comfortable, arranging your blankets nicely and propping up your pillows so that your sleep is restful and serene.  He requests that cool water and clean cloths are at his constant disposal, and makes sure to dab your face, neck, and decolletage at consistent intervals in order to keep your temperature down.  And while he does so, Pero continuously talks to you, encouraging you to get better, coaxing you back to him. 

He calls you carino, hermosa, princesa, mi reina, mi amor, and all the other endearments he doesn’t ever let himself call you save for in his head.  He lavishes you with compliments and words of praise that he's never allowed to slip past his lips - how perfect you are, how sweet and smart, that he doesn’t know anyone else like you and that your cheerful demeanor and melodic voice are the only things that can ever make him smile.  He tells you how he hasn’t smiled as much as he has since he reunited with you at the Danbury ball in years.  He confesses that every time he holds you while you dance, he has trouble letting go when the music ends, and when he sees another man take your hand and spin you around the room, he has to hold himself back from physically stepping in and pulling you back into his arms.  He tells you that he finds you beautiful and intoxicating, and describes every last inch of you that he can’t stop dreaming about, but lingers the longest in his description of your eyes and the richness of expressions they make that leave him breathless.  He tells you all these things because if he doesn’t say them out loud, he thinks he will burst from having to hold his feelings in all the time.  He tells you these things because he knows you will never hear them.

As the doctor predicted, the fever breaks late the following day and you start to stir shortly after.  Blinking your eyes open slowly, they come into focus to your father’s worry lined face and you watch as it cracks with relief, “Welcome back, dearest.  How do you feel?”

Not sure you can trust your voice right now, you give your father a small smile and nod when he says he needs to get the doctor.  In the few minutes you have alone, you try to get your bearings; the last thing you remember is waking to a terrible headache and falling back asleep after Daphne told you she would be sending your suitors away.  You swear you have vague memories of Pero’s voice and soft touch, but that couldn’t have been real.  Pero.  Oh.  You remember now the reason for having woken up before feeling empty and sad, but you don’t have too long to linger on it because your father returns swiftly with the doctor.

After declaring you well on your way to a full recovery, the doctor leaves you with your father; the Count, looking like the weight of the world has been lifted off his shoulders, hugs you tightly and clasps his hands tightly over yours, “I am so glad you are better, dearest.  Now, will you please tell your suffering father what is troubling that heart of yours?”

You’re shocked.  How could your father know about your feelings for Pero when you only realized them a few nights ago?  Your surprise must be written all over your face because the Count gently explains, “My dear, in the entirety of your life, you have only ever had such a fever twice, both times due to crying yourself sick from heartbreak.  The first time was when you were a young girl and I read you The Little Mermaid - the ending saddened you to tears.  The other was when we were leaving Portugal and I didn’t let you keep the stray puppy you had been feeding for a month.  This is how I know something ails your heart terribly.  Please.  Tell your father so he can help you.”

Your heart swells with affection for your father - he has always been the most loving and caring man, attentive to your feelings and understanding of your nature.  There is no one on this earth who you trust so whole heartedly and with whom you feel so safe.  Except for Pero, you suddenly realize. 

You tell your father everything.  You tell him about how Pero lets you be yourself without reservation, and that with him you don’t need to temper down your enthusiasm for your interests or make your experiences seem smaller than they are.  How he encourages you in everything you do and makes you feel like you’re capable of anything and everything.  He respects you and approaches you with kindness, always making you feel safe and taken care of.  That he makes you laugh all the time.  And that you’ve taken Pero and his wonderfulness for granted, not realizing just how rare and valuable all his amazing qualities are because if you had you would have figured out earlier that you’re completely in love with him.  You cry softly and confess to your father that your heart is broken because you’re in love with a man who will never see you more than a childhood compatriot, and that you may never get over this sad truth.

The Count listens to you sympathetically, and when you’re finished, he simply tilts his head thoughtfully and asks, “How do you know he does not care for you in the same manner?”

You can hardly tell your father that you snuck out of Bridgerton House and interrupted Pero when he had company over, so you have to cite another reason you’re so certain of how Pero feels about you.  But you find yourself struggling to come up with any concrete examples or reasoning that satisfy even yourself; all you can say is, “Because he wishes for me to find a husband.  He encourages me to do so.  I’m simply the daughter of his father’s friend.”

Something like bemusement dances over your father’s face, “It seems to a me that a man who thinks of you as simply the daughter of his father’s friend would not have purchased my shares in the fleet.”

You’re absolutely stunned.  Pero purchased your father’s shares?  But why?  There was no inherent income from the investment, the dividends benefitted you and your future children only, “Why would Pero do that?”

“You will have to ask him yourself, dearest.  It shouldn’t be too long before he visits himself now that he’s likely heard you’re awake.  He had not left your bedside for nearly two days and it was only at my insistence that he let me sit vigil so he could go home and change his clothes.”

Again, you’re astonished; is it possible that your vague recollections of Pero’s voice and gentle touches while you were ill are real? 

“I will say, when I asked him the same question of why, his answer was that he did not want the hard work you and I put into our happy venture to be squandered.  He said he knew that would break your heart.”

It’s true, it would.

“With his experience, I know the fleet would be in good hands.”

Nodding, you have to agree.

“… and you would be in good hands.”

You look up to see your father looking at you with an expression you can’t quite place.  You’re about to ask him about it when you hear a quiet knocking and you look over to see Pero standing in the open doorway, as if you had summoned him with your conversation.

“My apologies, I do not mean to interrupt.  I thought I heard your voice and wanted to see if you were awake,” Pero looks tired, but hopeful.

The Count waves him in and gets up, whispering in your ear, “Be kind to him, dearest.  The man has been in anguish and has not left your bedside for more than a few minutes these past two days.”  Kissing you on the cheek, he tells you he will go and find the Duchess to give her the good news of your recovery if the doctor has not yet done so himself.  After he pulls away, you notice for the first time that your room is filled with peonies, every flat surface covered with the most splendid displays in the prettiest pastel colours – your heart soars at the sight.  When Pero takes your father’s place in the chair across from you, neither of you notice that the Count closes the door behind him.

“Dulce, how are you feeling,” asks Pero with as much feeling as you’ve ever heard from him.

You tell him you’re much better, and that although no one has said so explicitly, you suspect that much of your recovery is due to his diligent care and watch over you.

“It was nothing, Dulce.  I was worried about you.  I am glad you are okay now,” he says, relief evident in his voice.

“Thank you for taking care of me.  I really don't know what I have done to deserve your kindness, Pero.  And not only these past two days when I’ve taken ill, but over the entire course of this season – I do not think I have ever properly thanked you for being there for me, supporting and encouraging me, and bringing me such peace and joy so that I did not buckle under the pressure of my debut.  Please allow me to do so right now.  Thank you, Pero,” you look at him with adoration and admiration, pouring all your feelings out and disguising them as simple gratitude.

“It has been my absolute pleasure, truly.  I am so very proud of the woman you have grown up to be: beautiful, smart, funny, and so, so very caring.  You are one of kind, Dulce – and the lucky man who marries you needs to know just how special you are.  There isn’t anyone else who has your vibrant spirit, your sweet disposition, your fun-loving heart.  He needs to know and nurture all these wonderful qualities so that your light never goes out,” Pero espouses your virtues and merits with eyes fixed upon yours, wishing he could express just how deep his admiration truly runs.

To say you’re affected would be an understatement, and it makes you bold and brave.

“Pero, I cannot tell you how much your kind words mean to me.  I have never known a man to be more genuine and earnest that you; when you say something, you mean it.  I find you so very thoughtful this way.  And in other ways as well – I know, for example, it must have been you who filled this room with my favourite flowers.”  Pero nods indulgently and you carry on, “… and I know you purchased the shares in the fleet from my father.  Thank you, Pero.”

Pero is surprised, although he had not asked the Count to keep the sale from you, he didn’t expect you to know already.

You’re looking at him with an expression he won’t let himself name, eyes soft, almost pleading, “Why would you do something so generous, Pero?”

Pero remains quiet, as if wrestling with how he wishes to answer and you wait patiently, not sure what to expect.

“The owner of the shares has custody of a great gift.  The fleet is an impressive venture - it has potential to do considerable good in this world, and much of that is thanks to you and your father’s dedication and contributions – the holder of these shares cannot squander that opportunity; he needs to honour you and your father’s legacy by carrying on the good work you’ve started together.  But that in and of itself is not the gift.  The man who holds these shares is also given the gift of being able to take care of you, to have a small hand in ensuring a prosperous future for you and your children.  I… could not take the risk that someone who did not understand the honour of this charge would hold these shares.  I hope you can understand and not think it imprudent of me.”

You don’t know what to say.  Pero is so generous and considerate – how could he ever think you would view his gesture as anything but deeply caring?  Unsure of your silence, Pero attempts to lighten the mood, “This way, I can still be in your life.  I can come to see you when I need to discuss matters of the fleet.”

“Pero, you’re my friend!  You do not need to have a business pretense to see me.”

He shakes his head sadly, “You will be married, Dulce.  Your husband would not like a man like me visiting his wife frequently.”

“A man like you?” you’re not sure what he means.

“A man who looks at you the way I look at you.”

You inhale sharply, hardly allowing yourself to breathe, “And how do you look at me, Pero?”

“Like you are the sun, Dulce.  Like everything you touch is made brighter and better from the light of your smile and the warmth of your sweet laugh.  As if under your care and attention, everything and everyone, including me, grows – stronger, brighter, better.  I look at you like I dream about the graceful notes of your voice every night and wish to hear your melody of thoughts and opinions on all things.  I look at you like I am hypnotized just by the sway of your hips and even the lilt of your fingers.  Everyday, I’m ever more enchanted with the tilt of your head and curve of your mouth.  I look at you like I could never get enough.”

“And what if I don’t want that?”

���Then I will stay away, mi reina.  Anything you wish,” though crushed, Pero knows that he would do whatever you asked.

“No, Pero, you misunderstand.  What if I don’t want a husband who does not want you looking at me like that?  What if I want you to look at me like that?  What if I do not want a husband who isn’t you?”

“Dulce…” Pero’s heart has leapt into his throat, he can hardly allow himself to believe what he’s hearing, “… you do not know what you’re saying.  You would not want me for a husband.”

You smile kindly, “And why not?”

Pero looks at you so sadly it breaks your heart, “You would not wish to separate from your friends and leave England to be mistress of a lowly Barón’s estate in a foreign land where you know no one and do not speak the language.  Not when you have suitors with much grander fortunes, with estates nearer to your friends, and where you and your children would grow up in the style befitting the daughter of a British Count.  You would not want a husband who is never home and spends more time on the seas and in far off lands than he does on home soil; one you never see and for whom you would worry all the time, not knowing where he is or what he is doing.”

“Would you not be willing to take me with you on your travels, Pero?”

“Of course, I would,” Pero never second guesses his answer.

Heart still aflutter at Pero’s romantic declarations, you press ahead, determined.  “Well.  It seems then that no one would be better suited to be my husband than you!  You must know me well enough to know that I do not care for grand fortunes and estates, and my dear father and now you have made sure that I will never be financially dependent on any husband.  What I care for is freedom and adventure!  And exploration and not being kept from the joys this life has to offer because I am a woman, or just somebody’s wife.  As for my friends, I can always visit!  And I am fortunate enough that the strength of our bonds is not dependent on having to see each other constantly.  Honestly!  This would not be the first time in my life I have gone to live in a foreign country where I do not speak the native tongue – it’s practically second nature to me now!  But I can see how it would be useful to be able to fluently converse with servants and locals - I suppose I would just have to commit myself to learning Spanish.  That is,” you’re suddenly embarrassed upon realizing that Pero hasn’t actually asked you to be his wife, and instead, you’re espousing all the reasons you find the match to be agreeable when he himself hasn’t expressed any desire for it, “if you would wish to have me.” 

“Dulce, all I have done since the moment I laid eyes on you at the Danbury Ball is wish to have you.  Do you know how hard it was for me to see you entertaining all those suitors when I was certain none of them could ever appreciate you for even half the wonderful person you are?  None of them had any idea what a smar-“

You crash your lips to his, and after the initial surprise, Pero kisses you back with the fervent need that’s been building in his soul the past few months.  Throwing your arms around him, you open your mouth to his just as his hands pull you flush to his chest; it’s the warmest, hungriest first kiss to have ever been kissed.  Your mind having only recently caught up to your heart, and Pero’s constrained feelings finally being set free, your tongues press together over and over, spilling all the unspoken words between the both of you.  On instinct you fist Pero’s shirt and pull him down with you onto the bed, Pero’s eyes darkening as he climbs on top of you, placing one knee in between your legs while keeping the other on the ground.  You finally run your hands through his soft curls and it feels as incredible as you had imagined two nights ago; you both moan softly at the sensation.

“Dulce, you make the prettiest noises…”

You purr softly at Pero’s praise, leading him to groan deeper into your mouth and you feel the hand that isn’t braced on the pillow next to your head start to skate up your side, landing near your breast and tentatively drawing circles on the underside of your plush curves with its thumb. You arch into Pero’s hand to encourage him to touch you, and he responds as he always promised he would if he had the chance which is to give in to your every desire.  Groping your breast and finding your nipple between his fingers, Pero rolls and pinches so expertly that you can’t help but writhe beneath him.  He shifts to kiss down your neck as he continues his attentions on your peak and when his knee brushes your throbbing centre, you gasp loudly before covering your mouth with your hands.  Still breathing heavily, the two of you giggle and smile stupidly at each other in the tender moment.  Pressing his forehead against yours, Pero whispers, “Mi reina, we should stop, I still need to ask your father for your hand.  Tomorrow, I am sure he will come here for breakfast and I will ask to speak with him after.”

Looking deep into is eyes, you nod; you know Pero’s right, though there’s a warmth radiating from your very being that wishes to invite scandal and tell him to never stop touching you, knowing by the way he’s making you feel right now that it would be worth it.

Not without regret, Pero pulls himself off of you and stands; after he helps you sit up, Pero tips your chin with his finger so you look at him squarely.  A seriousness takes over his face, an expression he usually reserves for others, “Are you sure you want me, mi amor?  You have so many suitors, so many options.”

Your eyes shine with sincerity and so much softness for this man that does not seem to understand just how much you love him.  You vow to spend the rest of your days showing him, “There are no options when there’s you, Pero.”

You can’t help but shriek a little in laughter as Pero falls on you and crushes his lips to yours, pinning your body to your bed with his large and solid frame.  Kissing you over and over, Pero punctuates his affection with barely strung together words of love - So perfect.  So perfect.  Can’t believe it.  How.  How did I get so.  Damn.  Lucky.  Beautiful. Perfect girl.

Right before your giggles can turn into moans, a knock on your door freezes you both.  The noise is quickly followed by the Duchess’ slightly amused voice, “Is everything okay?  We have brought up dinner.  Please let me know when it is decent for us to come in.”

Giving you one last peck on your lips before chuckling lightly, Pero pulls you up and whispers, “Tomorrow,” before going to open the door for Daphne.

The next morning you find Pero waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs when you come down.  Checking quickly to make sure there aren’t any lingering servants, you step off the third to last step and fling yourself into his arms.  Pero catches you easily and gives you a twirl before placing you gently on your feet, then places a less gentle kiss to your lips.  With a few hurried murmurings of devotion - I missed you.  You look beautiful. I still can’t believe you’re mine - you break apart and head to breakfast.

When the two of you enter the dining room, you’re greeted exuberantly by your friends congratulating you on your recovery and expressing their delight that you’re well enough to rejoin them.  Your father hugs you and you think you detect a knowing smile gracing his face, but you’re too soon seated with platters of food being offered and pushed towards you for you to be sure.  It’s a happy occasion but also slightly awkward – you’re seated next to Pero, but you have to pretend that nothing has changed between the two of you.  Trying to cheerfully chat with your father and friends, you find yourself unable to give the conversation your full attention because you trying with all your might to hold in the most wonderful news of your life, and with it, your overflowing happiness.  It doesn’t help that Pero finds increasingly mischievous ways to secretly touch you throughout breakfast: foot reaching over to playfully nudge yours, gently squeezing your thigh under the table.  When he purposefully brushes his hand down your arm and over yours in order to reach for the butter dish, you gasp in surprise - his touch out in the open sending a warm thrill through to your heart.  In response to your friends’ concerns, you have to lie and say you may still be feeling fatigued, and Pero, ever the menace, pats your shoulder affectionately and reminds you not to overexert yourself before buttering his scone with a smirk.

After your father finishes his meal, you nervously watch Pero hastily shove his last piece of food into his mouth before asking the Viscount for use of his office, and entreats your father for a word.  Finishing your own breakfast as quickly as you can without drawing suspicion, you find your way to the closed office doors and pace outside impatiently.  Try as you may, you cannot make out any of what is being spoken in the office, even when you press your ear up to the door.  After what feels like an eternity, the door opens and Pero exits; not the least bit surprise to find you outside, he whispers in your ear as he walks by, “Your father wishes to see you now, Dulce.  Come find me afterwards.  I will be upstairs writing a letter.”

The Count welcomes you into the office with open arms and you immediately fly into your father’s loving embrace.  As he continues to envelope you in the warmth of his joy, he chuckles, “Well, dearest, I think your old father deserves some acknowledgement for being right.”

Pulling away from him, you look at the face that’s so much like your own, eyes crinkled in mirth and a smile big enough to rival yours, “I concede, Father - you were right.  And I have never been so happy to have been wrong!”

Your father’s already expressive eyes shine with an extra brightness, “All I have ever hoped for is your happiness, my dear.  Pero is a good man, like his father before him and he has given me every assurance that he will cherish and take care of you the way you deserve.  I shall rest easily knowing that you will be in his capable hands… and he in yours.”

What did you ever do to deserve such a brilliant father who has given you the most wonderful life?  You ponder this as you walk up the stairs after telling your father that you love him and saying goodbye for the day.  You suspect you’ll never discover a satisfactory answer, but can only hope you can one day bestow the same unconditional love and support upon your own children.

You find Pero sitting at the corner desk in the drawing room where some of the Bridgertons are relaxing: Eloise and Colin reading, Francesca tinkering at the piano forte, Daphne looking over some correspondence of her own.  Approaching him silently, you look over his shoulder and whisper, “Mi rey, to whom are you writing?”

Smiling at your Spanish endearment of choice, Pero responds without looking up from his task, “I am writing my king, Dulce, and asking him for his permission to marry.”

Ah right, you consider that the Count could very well be penning a similar letter to the queen at this same moment, “What happens if he refuses, Pero?” 

“Then I abscond with my new bride and we live like pirates on the run,” smiles Pero, still not looking up.

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” you grin.

Pero finally sets his soft gaze upon you, “Nothing can be so bad if you are by my side, mi reina.”

He looks at you with such devotion and affection, you can’t help yourself - you cup his perfect face in your hands and bend down to kiss him.  Pero returns your soft, gentle kisses with his own, nothing urgent, nothing hurried – just a moment of tenderness that couldn’t have been restrained.

You don’t break apart even when you hear the successive gasps of your friends or even when Colin cheers, unable to part from Pero’s lips even a moment sooner than you need to.  When the two of your finally look up, it’s to the sight of the Duchess standing with her hands on her hips and a beaming smile on her face, “Do you two have something to tell us?”

You and Pero attend all of the remaining season events as a happily engaged couple.  Pero, no longer scowling all by his lonesome against the wall, but standing tall and proud next to you; his hand laced through yours or comforting and firm on your lower back as the two of you receive congratulations from the ton.  He drinks in the jealous looks from your former suitors and inwardly chuckles a little at the conceding grumbles from the mamas who proclaim with surprise that they didn’t know he had been looking for a wife.  His stoic countenance cracking just a little at their poorly concealed scandalized faces when he replies that he hadn’t been.  For your part, you don’t notice any of this; you only have eyes and ears for Pero.  Your face hurts from smiling so much – it’s all you can do to tear your eyes away from your handsome fiancé in order to respond politely to the questions you receive from curious members of the ton.

You still dance every dance, floating on air as you traverse the floor in the strong arms of your dashing Spaniard; now that there is no danger of some other man whisking you away from him for the next dance, Pero quite enjoys the dance floor.  He holds you closer than he probably should, chests touching and faces so close that the gentle fan of your breath curls over his lips; his hands find themselves placed low on your back during the waltz, dipping scandalously close to where he really wants them to be, itching to squeeze the plush globes of your ass.  If anyone was to make a comment to you about it, you would giggle and simply say that your fiancé is a passionate man.

And he is.  A passionate man, that is.  Under his grave and steely visage, Pero is a man who yearns for and craves the woman he loves, hungry for you at all times.  Such a man is not made of infinite restraint - the limits of Pero’s self control having already been sorely tested for the past few months.  As such, whenever an opportunity to escape the rigid formality of these events would arise, Pero wasted no time whisking you away for himself.

At the Grand Picnic, he steals you away to a secluded spot in the gardens where he proceeds to kiss you so fervently and passionately that you actually get dizzy.  He presses you against the base of some winged sculpture and hungrily licks and sucks down your neck, all while you cover your mouth with your hands, hoping against hope to contain your moans and soft whimpers.  The stone angel watches from its perch as Pero trails his mouth down past your collar towards the swell of your breasts, already rapidly rising and falling.  Pressing feather light kisses to the tops of your breasts, Pero drinks in your breathy giggles when his scruff tickles you, before diving in devilishly, lapping at your ample curves and the valley in between.  As you start to pant from arousal, Pero finds himself most ardently wishing that your tits would break free of their fine silk confines and spill into his mouth. 

A la mierda, he thinks and glides his tongue into the sliver of space between your dress and skin, dragging it across your chest until he hits your hardened nipple; having found his prize, Pero dives in, straining with his tongue to stroke your peak harder and faster.  When he leverages enough space with his chin to wedge in between your soft skin and the fabric of your dress, Pero takes your breast into his mouth and sucks while groping your other breast with his hand, finding the twin nipple already straining against your gown, aching to be played with.  The combined sensation has you grabbing at Pero’s hair and pressing him closer to you; with your hands now otherwise occupied, your gasps and moans spill unfiltered from your open mouth.  The obscene sounds Pero pulls from you must start to carry, because soon you hear voices getting nearer to where you and Pero have now frozen, his mouth buried in your chest; he places one last chaste kiss to tops of each of your breasts before the two of you giggle and run hand-in-hand out of the gardens.

At the Opera, Pero secures a box on the second mezzanine for the two of you.  With most of the ton preferring the orchestra seats or boxes closer to the stage, you find yourselves alone in the secluded alcove nearer to the house balcony.  Once the lights dim and the overture starts, Pero takes your hand in his and you lean on his shoulder, relaxing into his closeness.  By the time the audience is enjoying the soprano’s heart-breaking aria in the third act, Pero has his left arm thrown around you and the knuckles of his right hand are ghosting over the front of your panties where he finds them already damp from want. 

“Keep your eyes on the stage, Dulce,” he whispers in your ear as his thumb draws slow circles over your clit.  You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from crying out, trying with all your might not to let your whole body react to Pero’s teasing lest it draws the attention of the opera house attendees sitting on the balcony or in the boxes on the opposite side of the hall.

Pero is patient.  And thorough.  He takes an inordinate time exploring the shape of your pussy - running his thumb then fingers over the outline of your slit and the hardening form of your clit, eventually cupping your mound and letting you grind down on his palm to give you some of the friction you so desperately seek.  He toys with you over the fabric of your underwear for the remainder of the 3rd act until your panties are completely soaked through.  Only once the 4th act is underway does he slip his hand down the front of your underwear and start to run his forefinger through your folds.

“Pero…” you sigh, spreading your legs wider to allow him more freedom of movement.

“Doing so good for me, mi amor,” he whispers back, continuing his smooth, teasing strokes, dragging your sticky arousal through the valleys of your seam and trailing it up to your clit, spreading it over and around your bundle of nerves before returning his fingers to your wet core.  He repeats this over and over, alternating the speed and pressure of his fingers, never letting you settle into a complacent state.  Quite the opposite – you feel like your body is on fire. 

Willing yourself to breathe through your nose as evenly as you can, you focus on the soprano’s finale song before the ensemble gathers for the finale; just as the singer hits the high notes of her solo with a warm vibrato, Pero pushes a finger straight into your heat and you whine in harmony with her.  Slowly he pumps his finger in and out of your tight hole, nearly losing control with the way you clench as he drags along your warm warms; Pero feels you hum around him as pleasure you’ve never felt before radiates throughout your entire body.  The squelching sound of Pero working your cunt are thankfully masked by the musical drama unfolding on the stage, and Pero uses the opportunity to ask you if you’re ready for another. 

Seeing you nod as subtly as you can, Pero murmurs, “Good girl,” before adding a second finger to join the first.  Oh.  You’re so full.  It’s a stretch, but the sting pairs perfectly with the devastating pleasure now coursing through your veins as Pero slowly drives his fingers into you.  Staying with a slower pace until you start dripping down his wrist, Pero’s fingers now start to thrust faster, keeping tempo with the musical build that the ton in the orchestra is enjoying, clueless to your lascivious activities above them.

When Pero presses his thumb to your slippery clit, you surge forward and grab onto the balcony banister for stability, nearly in danger of drawing the attention of unwanted eyes.  Refusing to ease up in his efforts on your cunt, Pero continues to push you closer and closer to your high, his fingers never faltering from their punishing pace until you come and cry out in tune with the finale’s final chorus.  While the rest of the audience applauses when the curtain falls, Pero’s praise is only for you - purring that you did so good for him and kissing you gently as his slips his slick covered hand back into his glove. 

At the Hastings Ball, you’re the one feeling bold.  Having arrived at your friend’s estate a week prior to help the Duchess with preparations, you familiarize yourself with the grounds and all the intimate, secret corners perfect for intimate, secret things.  Once all the guests have arrived and the festivities have begun in earnest, you sneak off with your fiancé, leading him down a hidden staircase into the Duke’s impressive wine cellar.  With all of tonight’s refreshments having already been pulled from inventory, you know no one will be coming down here during the ball; you’re free to touch, feel and love on Pero in all the ways you desire.  Once Pero realizes the amount of privacy you’ve been afforded, he’s like a dog unleashed, stalking and cornering you into a wall with a growl, sniping at your neck with his teeth and lips, pawing at your soft curves already on display for him in your pretty ballgown. 

Here in the cellar, while you still cannot be loud, but you don’t have to be quiet – the cavernous room echos your quiet moans and Pero’s deep grunts like a soundtrack of pleasure that’s percussed by heavy breathing as the two of you drown in one another.  Lips attached to yours, but eyes kept open to take in your lustful expression, Pero spies an unopened crate out of the corner of his eye and smiles against your mouth, “Come here, Dulce.  Let me show you something.”

After letting him lead you to the crate, you allow Pero to help you on top before scooting you back so your legs no longer dangle over the edge.   Grinning, you ask playfully, “What, pray tell, do you wish to show me, Barón?”

“Want to show you how I’m going to make my pretty wife feel good every day we are married,” Pero looks at you, eyes dark, as his starts to ruffle up the many layers of your dress.  You giggle as his pushes through the yards of fabric with a feigned annoyance, bunching it up for you to hold against your chest like an overstuffed pillow.  Once Pero is satisfied with his unfettered access, he gently pushes you to lean back on your elbows, hands still laid prettily on your pillow of dress skirts, eyes watching your handsome fiancé’s movements.  Pero leans over the edge of the crate and rubs your silk stocking covered calves with his big firm hands as he starts kissing up your leg starting from where your stockings end mid thigh.  Every kiss he leaves on your skin gives you a shiver as the cool cellar air hits the imprint his lips leaves behind; then, as he gets closer to your heat, he starts to open mouth kiss where you’re the most sensitive, dragging his tongue back and forth over these tender spot and leading you to throw you head back and close your eyes in heady desire.  When he repeats this fog inducing pattern on the inside of your other thigh, you start begging, “Pero, please… please, my Lord, ple-pl-please!”

Nipping at your sensitive flesh with his teeth, Pero smirks against your leg, “What do you need, mi reina?”

Opening your eyes, you nearly buck into his face when you see Pero’s roguish expression peeking up at you from between your wide spread legs, “Touch me please, mi rey.”

“Here?” he asks, with pretend innocence before he dives in and starts devouring your pussy over the fabric of your underwear without waiting for your answer.  This feels different.  So much like his fingers but even more sensual, intimate, wild.  Pero mouths and nuzzles your cunt with a precision only rivalled by that of his tongue; his tongue has a mind of his own, gently prodding, exploring, reaching where his lips can’t. Pero's hands reach up your legs and hook under the band of your soaked panties and you catch him look at you before he murmurs “May I?” directly into your cunt.  The vibrations of his question run through to your chest and it’s all you can do to nod quickly before you watch him pull the frilly undergarment down your legs and have them drop to the ground.  Already completely wrecked, Pero takes in your glistening folds, wet and primed, and growls, “Look at this perfect pussy.  And she’s all mine.”

You run one hand through his soft curls and grip his hair so he’ll look at you, smiling lazily, already unbelievably blissed out, you promise, “All yours.”

“Mine,” Pero repeats, and then he buries his face into heaven.

The sensation is overwhelming in the very best way.  Pero is eating you, no, devouring you like a man starved; every press of his lips to your pussy somehow deeper and hungrier than the last, as his tongue licks every crest and wave of your core and marks them for his own.  Your slick pools from you, down your backside and dampens your gown beneath you; the wet noises from Pero’s mouth against your folds echo obscenely around you and your voice cannot help but try to add in its own harmony.  All of this makes you feel like a worshiped goddess about to ascend her alter and simultaneously like a wanton whore who knows that true heaven lies in the bodily pleasures of this mortal realm.  Then, as Pero’s mouth closes over your clit and he starts to flick your throbbing nub with his tongue, you realize in your daze that no, what you are is something better than either of those two things: you’re the woman who is marrying Barón Pero Tovar.  That’s the thought that overflows from your thumping heart and pushes you over the edge, coming on Pero’s face as you chant his name in a grateful prayer.

After the Ball, you’re positively exhausted from purposefully overdoing the socializing after returning from the wine cellar so no one would recall your long absence.  Yawning, you’re giving your hair a final brush when you hear a soft clink against your bedroom window, followed shortly by another, then another. 

Confused, you approach your window with slight trepidation, and upon looking out, you think at first that your tired eyes must be deceiving you.  Below your window, gazing up at you, is Pero.  He looks devastatingly handsome; yet to undress – Pero is still in his formal breeches, but his white shirt has been unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, exposing his smooth, tanned skin to your admiring gaze.  You might lick your lips at the sight.  Giggling as you tiptoe down the stairs, you walk out onto the terrace that hangs off the sitting room directly below your bedroom, greeted by Pero’s blinding smile, “Barón, what are you doing here?”

It's an easy climb up the side of the wall to the terrace level for Pero and his long legs; once he’s standing directly in front of you, he answers, “I could not sleep without seeing you one last time, Dulce.”

Where did this man who adores you so openly and without reservation come from?  You throw your arms around his neck and pull him in for a gleeful kiss; you adore him too, after all. 

Still grinning, Pero jokes, “And as I recall, it is my turn to call upon you in the dead of night from beneath your window in order to rouse you from the comfort of your bed chamber.”

Although he has no such intent, Pero’s words immediately transport you back to the night you realized your feelings for him… and how you had left his house, devastated upon the discovery that he was not alone.  Stilling in your movements, you shrink away from Pero a little; none of this goes without notice.

“Dulce, are you okay?  I’m sorry, I did not mean to imply there was anything wrong with these late-night meetings, but if you prefer to go back inside, I understand.”

You shake your head to let him know you’re not upset by that, but still your expression remains slightly sad and hurt.  Pero bends at the knee to meet your eye, “Mi amor?”

You’ve never lied or kept anything from Pero in all the time you’ve known him, and now that you’re his fiancé, you’re not about to start.  Looking at the ground next to you, you mumble, “I’m sorry, I was just remembering the night you’re alluding to; when I interrupted you… with those two women.”

When Pero doesn’t answer, you wonder if he’s upset with you for having disturbed him that night, and you look up to meet his eye finally, trying to give him a brave smile, “Please do not be upset with me.  I did not know you had company, which would have been entirely your private business, to which I know I am not entitled.  But if I must be honest, I do not particularly enjoy imagining you with other women.”

Pero has to stifle a laugh; if only you understood the war that raged in his chest every time a suitor placed his hand on your waist for a dance or when you would laugh at their jokes with that twinkle in your eye he loves so much – then you would not feel as if you had to hide these feelings from him.

Stroking your jaw gently, Pero tips your face to his, “Dulce, I could never be upset with you.  Firstly, you are entitled to all my business, private or not.  Secondly, the women to which you refer were not there by my invitation – Lord Ridlington had sent them to my house that evening as some sort of prank.  In his words, maybe if the Barón got laid, he would not be such a stick in the mud.  Nothing happened with those women, I promise, mi amor.  When you arrived, I was right in the middle of arranging for a carriage to take them home.  And thirdly,” Pero walks you backward until your back hits the wall; he braces an arm above your head, and towering over you, grips firmly onto your waist with his other hand, “how could I ever even think of another woman when there is you?  You with your pretty face, and your sweet smile, and your heavenly laugh.  You with your witty quips, and your melodic voice that says the smartest things, and this gorgeous body…” 

Pero’s voice trails off as he starts to kiss down your neck and his strong hands start to move up and down your sides in unison, then separating so one can reach up to massage your breast and the other down to grope your ass.  Your head tips back to allow Pero more access as you melt into his touch - he’s everywhere at once, overwhelming all of your senses.  Kissing down to your breasts, Pero finds them available to him in a way he has yet to experience, your thin night dress much flimsier than the gowns you wear during the day; he can already see your nipples poking up through the fabric, hard and inviting.  Without warning, he ducks and takes one in his mouth, teasing and sucking in tandem with your loud gasps and moans.

“Oh Pero, right there, oh- nghhh, please that feels so good!” you cry out breathily.  Spurned on by your praise, Pero frantically rucks up the skirts of your nightgown and slots his thigh between your legs, pulling you down to sit.  The pressure and friction on your cunt sends a wave of pleasure through you, amplified and extended by Pero’s tongue and lips laving their attention on your breasts.  He encourages you to rock against his thigh, using his grip on your waist to help you find an enjoyable rhythm, and once you’ve found one that catches your clit on the flex of his leg, his hands leave you to your work and travel up your body to pull down the front of your night dress, exposing your tits to the cool night air and Pero’s darkened gaze.

“Beautiful,” he breathes, as he leans back to admire everything before him: your naked curves, your hardened peaks begging for his attention, and the sight of the woman he loves getting off by rubbing her pretty pussy all over his thigh.  He thinks he’s minutes away from combusting.

Instead, he dives right into your chest, mouth and tongue licking, kissing and nibbling, hands groping, pinching and pulling all your delicious parts so that he can bring you to your second orgasm of the night.  While tugging at your nipple with his teeth, he hisses low, “Were you jealous, Dulce?”

Half out of your mind from pleasure you gasp back, “Yes!”

Growling, “Good,” Pero sucks in a mouthful of your breast and kneads what he can’t fit into his mouth with his hands, panting out words when he should be taking in breaths of much needed air -

Now you know how I felt.

When some other man would touch you.

When you would smile at your suitors.

When you didn’t know I would burn the world for you.

You cry out at his confessions, gripping the back of his head and pulling him closer to you still; increasing your rocking, you’re chasing your own high when your knee brushes up against something hard, something big.  When it jumps at your touch, you use your knee to stroke Pero’s length with every pass of your pussy over his thigh. 

Your breasts now wet from Pero’s mouth, the cool night air’s chill against your skin causes you to tighten in Pero’s arms as he continues to electrify you with his hands, his mouth, his tongue, his words -

Never need to be jealous ever again, Dulce.

There’s only you.

Never want anyone else.

Don’t need anyone else.

You’re my everything.

Mine.

You come to his loving and possessive declarations, singing back your own - Yours, yours, yours.  Body violently seizing and shuddering, Pero holds you close as you ride out your high.  As you continue to buck against him, he crests to your desperate whimpers and breathless panting – his eyes never leaving your face, mesmerized by the sweet blissed out expression that he pulled from you.  Finally opening your eyes, you grin lazily at the sight of your lover smiling at you, calming down from his own summit; and when you feel the dampness of his trousers against your bare knee, you giggle in pride and pull Pero back to you lips for a flutter of happy kisses.  As he walks you to the door to the waiting room, you hardly give him a moment without a light peck on his lips, cheeks, neck – not sure you’ll be able to stand being apart from Pero for even a few hours of sleep.

Before he leaves you, Pero cups your face in his large hands, whispering against your lips, “I’m yours,” and you smile back and press your mouth to his before returning, “Mine.”

You marry at the end of the season in late June with the blessing of the Spanish king to do so in England.  The ceremony itself is wonderful and your gown is gorgeous, but you hardly remember anything save for how handsome Pero looks waiting for you at the end of the aisle and how he and the Count both had tears in their eyes for most of the wedding.  What you remember much more vividly is the fun you and your friends had when preparing for the nuptials.  Days and nights filled with laughter, play fighting over flower arrangements, tearful promises to never let distance impact your friendship – you thank the Bridgertons over and over for their love and support during this season and bringing you to Pero; you can never repay them.  When you board the ship to your new home, it’s not without tears as you say goodbye to your friends and father; everyone sends you off with mirroring sentiments and promises to visit soon.

If the Tovar estate servants had any concerns or misgivings about having a foreigner as mistress of the house, you soon win them over with your kind and gentle nature; your cheerful and easy-going demeanor overriding any language barrier, which with their help and your dedication, you were overcoming more and more every day.  And if there were any remaining whispers, be they among the members of the Spanish court, villagers, or any one else, they were quickly quieted once the concerned party bore witness to the ferocity of your love for your husband and his obvious and complete devotion to you.  The older house staff observed quite readily that they hadn’t seen the Barón smile as much as he did since he was a boy.  The newer servants declared that prior to his marriage, they had not seen him smile at all.

One morning, only two months after landing in Spain, you wake to find yourself alone in bed for the first time since you and Pero got married.  Deciding it unnecessary to ring for your ladies’ maid (Lucia, a delightful woman whose English was improving as much as your Spanish), you throw on a dressing robe over your night dress and pad downstairs, sure you’ll find your husband in the dining room having breakfast. 

As usual, you’re right; for a few minutes you remain standing in the doorway, admiring your handsome hulk of a husband as he shovels the remainder of his breakfast into his mouth.  You love the way he eats… everything - with voracity, unabashed hunger, like he can never get enough.  Strolling in only when you see him push aside his empty plate in favour of a pile of letters and paperwork to begin reading, you thank the footman who had already seen you and plated you a warm breakfast, before you approach Pero’s chair.  Dancing your fingers across his broad shoulders, you slide onto your husband’s lap before laying a soft morning kiss to his lips, “Buenos días, mi rey.”

“Buenos días, mi reina,” Pero kisses back, turning his full attention to you as he always does.

“Te echo de menos esta mañana (I missed you this morning),” you pout, although you’re not really upset with him in any way.

Pero smiles at you indulgently, “I thought you might like to get some extra sleep.”  He nuzzles your ear and you can hear him smile, “Considered you might be tired after your activities last night, Baronesa.”

You giggle and pull him in for another kiss, your cheeks get hot just thinking about the multiple orgasms that Pero pulled from you with his talented fingers, mouth and cock; you purr back and pepper his scruff with kisses, “Very thoughtful of you, Barón.”  Your eyes soften, “No me gusta despertar sin ti, Pero (I hate waking up without you, Pero).”

Pero kisses your temple, “My apologies, Dulce.  How can I make it up to my pretty wife?”

You squirm in his lap; a thrill still runs through you when you hear him refer to you as his wife, and you start to plant breathy kisses to the spot right behind his ear that you know drives him crazy.

“Already?  Is my wife so insatiable?” chuckles Pero, though his voice his has dropped to that low baritone register that makes your stomach flip.  You nod into his neck and start to run your fingers through his soft curls, tugging impatiently at the ones at the base of his neck.

“Déjanos por favor (leave us please),” Pero calls out politely.  The servants in the dining room leave at once and close the doors, some smirking - all the servants having gotten used to their master and new mistress’ voracious appetite for one another.  The younger servants were mainly amused and some even found it romantic; the older servants acting scandalized, but secretly pleased to see such a happy marriage on the estate after so long.

 “Sit up here, mi amor,” Pero pulls you off his lap gently and directs you up onto the dining room table; you move his papers aside and push his flatware out of the way.  Teasing him, you quip, “I thought you already had breakfast, my lord?”

“I’m ready for seconds,” growls Pero as he pulls up his chair and seats himself between your legs.  Licking his lips greedily, he unties your robe and peels it open to reveal your lacey nightgown underneath. Lifting up the skirt to reveal your already wet and waiting naked cunt, he murmurs, "Delicious," before lowering himself to meet you where you already need him so desperately.  Aware that you might still be sensitive from the previous night’s sex, Pero is careful with you – his licks and strokes to your folds are gentle and slow, he mouths and sucks your clit with tenderness and reverence, and when he presses two, then three fingers into your tight hole, he does so with restrained worship.  It’s only when you cry out for more, more, more, that he quickens his pace and fully presses his mouth to you, tongue tangling with your sensitive bud before nibbling it between his teeth.  Your moans and debauched sounds of rapture have never been restrained in this house, your house – and you come with a desperate and enchanting scream befitting the blinding pleasure now electrifying your body. 

Kissing up your nightgown and planting loving open mouth kisses to your breasts before letting you taste yourself, Pero licks into your mouth and whispers, “Te amo, mi reina,” before standing back to unlace his pants.

Your mouth waters as you watch your husband free his cock; no matter how many times you’ve taken him in your hands, your mouth, your cunt, you’re still in awe of its size and the things that Pero’s length can do to you.  Whenever you feel the stretch of him entering you, you always recall the first time and how gentle he was as he pushed in.  When you remember the tenderness in his voice and face as he made sure you were comfortable, putting your pleasure before his – your heart always blooms with overflowing love for this man.  How did you get so lucky?  Pero would of course always say that he’s the lucky one, and then show you just how deep his affection for you runs by thrusting with intensity, punching that spot inside that makes you see stars, over and over – the exact way he’s doing so now.  “¡Cómo te amo, Pero!” you whimper again and again, and by the way he continues to drive into you, you know he believes you.  Folding himself over you so that he can bury his face into your neck and nip at the delicate spot at the base, Pero's pants and groans have you arching your back and fisting his hair just for something to hold on to lest you float away.

“I’m close, Dulce.  Come with me,” Pero growls, snaking a hand between your bodies and finding your clit with ease.  Drawing quick circles over your swollen nub, you feel the coil beneath your belly tighten and tighten until it snaps and you throw you head back chanting your husband’s name as you fall over the cliff.  Not far behind, Pero’s pace falters before he spills into you with a long and low grunt in your ear that shoots straight to where you’re joined as one. 

Weak, limp and perfectly satisfied, you let Pero pull you into a sitting position and kiss him deeply and sweetly as both of your breaths start to even, the heaving of your chests slowing in unison.

Forehead resting against yours, Pero catches your still dazed eyes and gives a small nod towards the papers that had been pushed aside and forgotten, “Dulce, I’ve been charged with accompanying His Majesty’s naval fleet to Naples, Italy.  Would you join me?”

Smiling because you know he already knows the answer, you nod, “Of course, mi amor.  I’ll start making the necessary arrangements today.”

Pero tilts his head, eyes soft and reassuring, “Are you okay with leaving?  We will have only been home for a few short months.”

Cupping your husband’s face in your hands, you gaze adoringly into his eyes, “My home is where you are, Pero.”

Pero closes his eyes and pulls you flush against him, with him still softening inside you, you’re as close as two people can be.  He tips your face to his and whispers, “You’re my home, Dulce,” and all you can do is sigh in unsurpassable happiness as he presses his lips to yours once again.

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