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#Recipe for a Perfect Wife
maddiesbookshelves · 3 months
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Recipe for a perfect wife, by Karma Brown
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When Alice Hale leaves a career in publicity to become a writer and follows her husband to the New York suburbs, she is unaccustomed to filling her days alone in a big, empty house. But when she finds a vintage cookbook buried in a box in the old home’s basement, she becomes captivated by the cookbook’s previous owner–1950s housewife Nellie Murdoch. As Alice cooks her way through the past, she realizes that within the cookbook’s pages Nellie left clues about her life–including a mysterious series of unsent letters penned to her mother. Soon Alice learns that while baked Alaska and meatloaf five ways may seem harmless, Nellie’s secrets may have been anything but. When Alice uncovers a more sinister–even dangerous–side to Nellie’s marriage, and has become increasingly dissatisfied with the mounting pressures in her own relationship, she begins to take control of her life and protect herself with a few secrets of her own.
I thought this book was going take the "the house is haunted by the spirit of the 50's housewife" or even the "the house is alive" route because of some elements at the beginning but uh, they end up not mattering at all? So that was weird
It was an interesting read, but I didn't like Alice's character/story nearly as much as Nellie's. I didn't understand some of her actions and decisions, thought some were stupid. The parts I liked best about Alice's chapters were when Nellie was mentioned. I kinda wish it was more like The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo, in the way that Monique wasn't a big part of the story as a whole but she still had her stakes in it. I did like that, when Alice read Nellie's letters, you can tell there was more to what she was writing
Also, Nellie's chapters had my brain playing Paris Paloma's Labour on loop, it really fits the vibes. It also reminded me of the show Why Women Kill (at least the first season), which I loved. So if anyone has recs for similar book, please please please tell me, I'm desperate
French version under the cut
Lorsque Alice Hales quitte sa carrière dans la publicité pour devenir autrice et suivre son mari dans une banlieue pavillonnaire de New York, elle n'est pas habituée à remplir ses journées seule dans une grande maison vide. Mais lorsqu'elle trouve un livre de cuisine vintage enterré dans la cave de la vieille maison, elle est fascinée par la précédente propriétaire du livre, Nellie Murdoch, femme au foyer des années 1950. Tandis qu'Alice explore le passé au fil des recettes, elle réalise que Nellie a laissé entre les pages du livre de cuisine des indices concernant sa vie, dont une série de lettres adressées à sa mère jamais postées. Bientôt, Alice constate que, même si l'omelette norvégienne et le pain de viande peuvent sembler inoffensifs, ce n'était peut-être pas le cas des secrets de Nellie. Alors qu'Alice découvre un aspect plus sombre, voire dangereux, du mariage de Nellie, et qu'elle devient de plus en plus mécontente de la pression croissante dans son propre couple, elle décide de prendre le contrôle de sa vie et à se protéger avec ses propres secrets.
J'ai cru que ce livre allait faire le coup du "la maison est hantée par le fantôme de la femme des années 50" ou encore "la maison est en vie" à cause de certains éléments au début mais euh, au final ils ont aucune importance ? Donc c'était bizarre
C'était une lecture intéressante mais j'ai pas aimé le personnage/l'histoire d'Alice autant que celle de Nellie. J'ai pas compris certaines de ses actions et de ses décisions, j'en ai même trouvé certaines stupides. Les moments que j'ai le plus apprécié dans les chapitres d'Alice étaient ceux où Nellie était mentionnée. J'aurais limité préféré que le livre soit plus comme The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo, dans le sens où Monique n'était pas super importante dans l'histoire mais il y avait quand même des enjeux pour elle. J'ai beaucoup aimé quand Alice lisait les lettres de Nellie, on pouvait sentir qu'elle écrivait pas tout
Aussi, les chapitres de Nellie faisaient tourner la chanson Labour de Paris Paloma en boucle dans mon cerveau, elle collait vraiment bien à l'histoire. Ils me rappelaient aussi la série Why Women Kill (du moins la première saison), que j'ai adorée. Donc si quelqu'un a des recos de livres similaires, siouplait dites moi, je suis désespérée
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starssborn · 2 years
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reads of 2022 | recipe for a perfect wife
"With shaking fingers, she opened the folded paper and read the letter, Nellie's greatest secret, and the one she had intended to take to her grave, finally revealed."
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manganimetradnow · 5 months
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19 Manhwa Like Marriage of Convenience Webtoon
Are you looking for a manhwa like the Marriage of Convenience webtoon? If so you are on the right track. Will will uncover the top recommended titles Bianca de Blanchefort was forced to leave the opulence of her home and marry Count Zachary de Arno before she even understood what marriage was. She never lost her passion for the opulence of her upbringing, and even though her husband disregarded…
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gojonanami · 4 months
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TASTES SWEETER ON YOUR LIPS - SATORU GOJO
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✴︎ summary: on a rare day off, you decide to take care of the strongest sorcerer -- with something very sweet. ✴︎ contents: pure domestic fluff, based on that clip of gojo freaking out over pancakes in the phantom parade game, taking care of gojo the way he deserves - with sweets and yourself :), implied smut, some food play, mostly implied, ✴︎ wc: 754
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It was a rare day off for Satoru Gojo. 
No missions — overseas or otherwise. No training to deal with for his students. No annoying higher ups to deal with. 
Just the two of you in bed. Satoru was sound asleep, curled up beside you, pretty long white eyelashes and pink lips parted. How was it possible to look perfect while sleeping? Everything about your husband was truly unfair. 
But considering everything he did — you ran your fingers through his snowy locks — he deserved it. He worked so hard, always with a smile, barely with a complaint — you had to badger out of him half of the time, except about the higher ups — and always did his best for everyone around him. 
And the opportunity to spoil him became rare, especially with how busy everything had been with Itadori, the special grades, and everything else he had on his plate. So why not today? 
You sneak out of bed, being as quiet as possible as you head to the kitchen. You had found a recipe for soufflé pancakes with a chocolate and butter pecan sauce. Satoru had been complaining that he hadn’t had time to try the new trend recently — finding the perfect cafe for the two of you in Kyoto, but hadn’t had the time to get out there. But you thought why not beat him to the punch? 
Anything to make him happy. 
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Satoru’s eyes fluttered open, the sunlight falling across his eyelids as he stirred, reaching for you, only to find an empty bed. He sighed, eyes opening and he could sense you in the kitchen, and you were — cooking?
He sits up. 
What was that scent? It’s so sweet. 
He’s wandering into the kitchen, yawning, as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against him as he buries his head in the nape of your neck sleepily. 
“What are you doing?” It’s half a question, half a whine, “why’re you up so early—“ and then he spots the two plates in front of you, and he gasp, “what—“ 
“Surprise,” you giggle at his wide eyed gaze, “your six eyes are gonna pop out if you look any harder, baby,” 
“Where did you—“ 
“I made them. I found a recipe and I had most of the ingredients on hand anyway,” you turn to face him, cupping his cheeks, “I know how hard you’ve been working, Toru, and I just wanted you to know I see it — and I’m here to take care of you sometimes,” you lean up and kiss his cheek. 
And his lips curl into a wide grin, and he’s greedy, as he’s tugging you back, “you missed, sweetheart,” and he’s kissing your lips, and somehow you’re the best and the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, “I love you,” he murmurs, “how’d I get so lucky?” 
“Keep asking yourself that,” and he’s picking you up and spinning you, as you gasp and giggle, holding onto him, “Toru—“ 
“Yes, my lovely wife?” You lean down and kiss his goofy grin off his lips. 
“Let’s have some pancakes, ok?” And he only smiled wider, a mischievous glint in his eyes. 
“Only if I can have you afterwards,” and you laugh. 
“Deal,”
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“Satoru, that is your third plate of—“ 
“These pancakes are so good! They’re so fluffy and warm and perfect—I’ve never had such a fluffy pancake!“ and he’s taking another large bite, “and the sauce? What the hell is in that sauce?” 
“Toru—“ and he’s pressing his lips to yours, and you can taste the sweet syrup sauce on his lips, “what—“ 
“I think this sauce tastes sweeter on your lips,” he’s licking his lips clean, pressing a kiss to your neck, his cerulean eyes colored with lust, “do you have more?” And his eyes drift to the bowl of sauce on the counter, his fingers dipping in the sauce, before dragging it along your lips and then your jaw. 
And your breath catches, as he leans over, his lips and tongue dragging along the same path he left, sucking at the sauce and your skin, before he reaches your lips. And his tongue darts out and tastes the sauce, before kissing you, sweet tongue slipping into your mouth, drawing a moan from your lips. 
He draws back, spit clinging to the corner of his mouth, a grin on his lips, as you pant, eyes drifting to the sauce and back to him. 
“…let’s go back to bed.” 
And Satoru Gojo certainly had a very sweet day off with you. 
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✴︎ a/n: what is this? i have no idea. i actually really wanna try those fluffy pancakes they sound really good. but also gojo's too cute.
✴︎ taglist: @capitana18girl, @1cadence, @madam-milf, @ceceher, @forest-fruits-jam, @black-nirvanna, @naanamikentoo
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sunnysunshineyogi · 2 years
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When your love language is cooking for others including myself ✨
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exhaslo · 4 months
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Hiii i was wondering if you could do a miguel x cinnamon bun reader who’s a chubby baker and catches Miguel’s eye sometime when he was out as spiderman and decides to wife her up. And now that they’re together since she’s always baking at home miguel comes home to the smell of cinnamon buns and her as well who’s filled with flour on her face. You can make it smutty if you want, i was just thinking that this scenario was cute 😭😩
have a good dayyy
Crying bc I wrote like half of this before Tumblr froze and deleted everything so I gotta rewrite it again.
Anyway, this is a cute idea. It would be super adorable if Miguel didn't like sweets either...so...without further ado...Time to write again
Warning: None, just fluff, light mentions of sex
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You owned a small bakery in the middle of Nueva York. It was no surprise that the smell of your bakery would attract anyone walking down the block. The aroma of your desserts would attract even the most grumpiest of people.
You were working in the kitchen, sweating as you tried to perfect your latest batch of cupcakes. You took a look around at your workers, smiling as they had fun while making your desserts. You loved your job.
"Hm, I'll take whatever you recommend. I don't really like sweets." A voice from outside said.
Your ears perked up as you heard such a phase. Your curiosity got the best of you as you poked your head out of the kitchen. You saw two men at the counter with your cashier. One was giddy with joy, ordering a bunch of sweets while the other had a stern look at his face.
Slowly, you made your way behind your cashier, avoiding the tall man's gaze. He was handsome, but also somewhat scary. Pulling one of your not so sweet desserts, you carefully placed it in a cute box and slid it towards him on the counter.
"T-This is on the house. I...I hope you like it." You whispered, glancing up at him.
"Oh, sorry, I didn't think anyone but this idiot heard me." The man said while pointing at his companion.
"Migueeeel!"
"Thank you," Miguel said with a fanged smile.
You felt your cheeks flush as you rubbed your eyes. You had to be exhausted from working because you swore you saw fangs. Returning your gaze to the handsome man, you smiled as he took a bite. His eyes widen, licking his lips,
"It's good,"
Miguel was surprised by the delightful treat you gave him. He glanced towards you, caught off guard by the cute smile you gave him. He watched as you hurried into the kitchen, shaking with excitement. Unable to stop staring, Miguel looked back down at the dessert.
"Shall I get more of those for you~" Gabriel, Miguel's brother, said with a silly grin. Miguel nudged him away,
"No. I can get these myself."
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Miguel was swinging around the city, patrolling for any crime. He stopped, catching whiff of something ridiculously sweet. Disgruntled, he stoop and searched for the source of the smell. His shoulders sunk, spotting your bakery.
Perhaps you were working on a new recipe? Miguel made it a habit to stop by once a week. He enjoyed your company. You were different. Miguel was willing to try anything you gave him as long as it meant seeing your smile.
Sitting against the roof of the building, Miguel just sat there and watched you. You were hard working, helping every customer and your employees. He knew the struggle of managing a business. Hell, Miguel was technally in charge of two companies, if the Spider Society counted as one.
"Haha! She probably eats all her sweets! Look at her!" A rude teenager yelled as his obnoxious friends laughed alongside him.
"P-Please leave!" You begged.
Miguel stepped in once he saw tears form. He jumped onto the sidewalk and quietly walked behind you. His presence scaring the teenagers away. You whimpered, rubbing your eyes and sniffing before turning around and yelping.
"It's okay. I just scared them away," Miguel whispered, not wanting to spook you.
"Thank you," You whispered, still shaking. Miguel wanted to comfort you, but he knew this wasn't the right time or place,
"Don't let those kids get to you."
"I-I'm used to it...A chubby girl who owns a bakery. I hear it a lot." You whispered. Miguel grinded his teeth together,
"You're beautiful."
"Haha, thanks. That cheered me up," You said with that sweet smile of yours, "Here, let me give you a treat as thanks."
You hummed happily as you held Spiderman's hand, leading him into your bakery. Your customers were surprised, but went about their business. You looked behind the counter and took out one of your newest desserts, placing it in a cute box.
"I just made this, I hope you like it."
You watched as Spiderman's mask slowly disappeared revealing his lower half of his face. Your eyes widen as you saw fangs when he took a bite. Your smile widen as you thought of your regular Miguel, whom you liked.
"It's good." He said. You just giggled,
"Thank you."
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Miguel was determined to wife you up. He had started to stop by your bakery three times a week, chatting and getting to know you on a deeper level. Once he found out that you were single, he did not hesitate to ask you out.
Miguel wanted you. He was determined to protect you and keep his sweet little baker by his side. You were so sweet and cute that Miguel was having a hard time restraining himself. He wanted to swing you in his arms and make you his.
By your fifth date, Miguel kissed you. He held you close to him, enjoying your flushed cheeks and shy expression. He was your first for everything and Miguel was going to savior everything about that. He was going to enjoy giving you everything.
By your twelfth date, you admitted to him that you knew he was Spiderman. Miguel was slightly embarrassed, but felt a weight off his chest since he didn't have to hide it from you anymore. With his secret known to you, Miguel was able to give you even more affection due to his powers.
The first time you guys had sex, Miguel went overboard. He joked about you being his dessert for the night and ended up filling you like one of your cupcakes. He had to apologize to you, but you weren't complaining. It was the best night of your life.
Finally, after a few months, Miguel offered to have you move in with him. You were hesitate, but after some reassuring, you agreed. You were currently in your shared house, making a new recipe while waiting for Miguel to return from work.
"Mhm~ I wonder if my customers will like this~" You cooed, trying the cookies.
"Of course they will. You're the one making them," Miguel hummed as he wrapped his arms around your waist.
"Miguel~ You're home!" You chirped. Miguel kissed your neck, his hands groping your tummy,
"Missed you, baby. Couldn't stop thinking about you all day,"
"M-Miguel," You glanced away, feeling flustered, "D-Do you want to try my cookies?"
"Of course, but I'll be enjoying my cookies later," He whispered, groping your breasts.
"Miguel~"
Miguel chuckled lowly, capturing your lips in a kiss before willingly tried the cookie. He scrunched his face up, still not liking sweets, but told you that they were amazing.
You chuckled towards him, letting him know that you'll make some dinner. Miguel wanted to complain, saying something about feasting on you, but you managed to convince him to shower. You couldn't help but smile, happy that you found someone who loved you just the way you are.
"Oh, (Y/N), I've been meaning to ask," Miguel started as he came out of the shower, "Did you give Spider Chef a recipe for a Spiderman burger that looks like me?"
"..."
Miguel sighed heavily, "It's a best seller." He muttered,
"Yai~ I knew it~" You cheered happily.
Miguel resisted a chuckle as he watched you do your cute little cheer. You were defiantly going to make it up later. Miguel did think it was time for you to have little helpers after all.
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Hehe, hope you enjoyed~
Part 2 (smut)
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bakugoushotwife · 6 months
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kinktober day thirteen: somnophilia kink
>>> y'all i worked breeding into the plot again officer take me away!! i just love soft and domestic sho, and it also totally feels like something he'd love!!
>>> starring: shouto todoroki x curvy!fem!reader >>> cw: fingering, oral (fem receiving) somno, breeding, reader hates working lmfao, creampie obviously, mating press. >>> wc: 2.6k >>> event masterlist
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 shouto loves relaxing. he was sure this was something everyone enjoyed, until he met you. you seemed to stay occupied at all times, delving into hobby after hobby to keep yourself busy. being professional heroes was draining enough, he thought, so why were you indulging in running clubs and extra gym sessions? why did you spend more time learning new recipes and anxiously cleaning the house these days than lounging in bed with him watching tv like you used to? of course, his first assumption is that he has done something to push you away or upset you, as he’s prone to doing. he’s naturally aloof and a bit distant, all things he tries to push past to connect to you, the only person who makes him feel warmth were his coldness usually lies. you know how he is, how he can come off a bit frigid and almost mean without thinking about it, or how he struggles to read your body language and cues—always missing the hints you throw him. you’re used to it by now, far more accommodating than a grown man like him deserves, so he figures this time he needs to get to the bottom of this and make it up to you and prove he can be in tune with your emotions too. 
you had grown restless, but it wasn’t all your husband’s fault. you felt so out of place these days, feeling awkward in your own role in life. you enjoy being a hero some days, other days you can hardly motivate yourself to get out of bed. work had become monotonous and meaningless, the streets of japan were safer than they had been in years past, so most of your days were spent patrolling and training if they weren’t consumed in paper work. you felt stagnant, and things were only complicated further by your conflicting emotions. all your friends from school were retired to spend time with their families or in the process of retiring to go home and take care of their parents or kids—and then there was you. a family would be…perfect, but it was a touchy subject with shouto and you didn’t want to press the matter just because you needed a change in life. so yes, you started tinkering around with hobbies to try and get your mind off of things, knowing you had accepted the possibility of not having children when you agreed to be his misses todoroki. he hadn’t taken the possibility completely off  the table, but you knew he wanted to broach the subject whenever he was ready. so you started using the home gym a little more, picking up books your girlfriends recommended, even working on your cooking skills all in an effort to feel something other than bored.
you didn’t associate your issues with shouto, still acting as normal as possible in other regards other than your drifting away. you really didn’t think he’d notice given the lack of emotional fluency he had, hoping if you could replace the void growing within you that everything would go back to normal and you could be as happy as you were five or ten years ago. but he had noticed, of course. he missed his wife alongside him, but it wasn’t his fault that he had trauma associated with family and was unsure of himself as a father. it certainly wasn’t his fault that when you got married right out of high school you hadn’t cared—knowing that you love him either way. this is still true, of course, but back then you hadn’t imagined  you’d feel this way, this tired of the life you worked so hard for. so ready for the next chapter, especially as ochako welcomes baby midoriya number two and you’re left in charge of the elder brother at the hospital. 
the little boy was only about four or so, absolutely adorable and the image of his father. he was a giggly kid, clinging to his “auntie” with excitement to meet his baby brother or sister. ochako called as soon as she was sure she was in labor, and you dropped everything to go support your closest friend, not that you needed an excuse to leave work early anyway. shouto was still working, of course, as a top five hero he was often kept busy. but that left you to wrangle the toddler on your own. it was way easier than you expected, even with the energetic little boy bouncing all over the waiting room waiting for his dad to come get him. he still conversed with you and ate his lunch like a good boy—though that’s because his parents were so good at raising him, but what would you expect from them? 
all the day proved to you was that you weren’t just making up solutions to your problems, having a family really is what you want. but still, you love your husband more than this want, so you’ll double down on your hobbies until you find something that sticks. 
he reads your texts over and over, waiting on you to get back from the hospital. he had set up a date, truly romantic when he tries to be, and when bakugou answers his calls. following his advice, he had your favorite dinner made and the dining room table was intimately set. ochako had her second baby, and that threw a minor wrench in his plans even lthough he was overjoyed for them, and for you for being their dependable friend in that moment. he sits at the table, all the food keeping warm in the oven as the wax of the candles starts to wane. he had flowers, wine, all the things he knew to try and connect with you and get to the center of your sleepless nights. 
when you walk in, he stands, smiling sheepishly. you smile back, though it doesn’t reach the entirety of your eyes. then you notice he’s guarding the table, and you creep closer. “hey, honey.” 
“welcome home, sweetheart.” he nods, stepping aside to show you the lovely dinner scene just for you. your heart melts a little at his effort, knowing it was always a great show of his love to do something like this, much preferring cuddle sessions and shared showers over grand displays of affection. 
“aw, shou.” you pout, giving him a big hug, “this is so pretty, to what do i owe the pleasure?” you giggle like everything is normal. he hums in thought, slender arms holding your waist as he stews over what to say. 
“you’ve been distant as of late.” he says without a trace of malice or disappointment. his words catch you by surprise–he did notice. he lets you go, pulling out your chair and tilting his head for you to sit. “why?” 
you clear your throat and sit, any charade you wanted to drum up crumbling in your brain. you can’t lie to him, but how could you approach this without feeling like you’re betraying his trust and wishes. you sigh. “i… i’ve just been trying to find new hobbies.” 
“you’re hardly sleeping, and i feel like i never see you anymore.” he frowns, making his way to the oven to retrieve the dinner the chef made. “what is it really, sweetheart? do you feel as if you cannot talk to me? is it something i’ve done?”  
you chew the inside of your lip as he assembles food on your plate. “i don’t enjoy hero life anymore. i’m ready for the next chapter, to feel important for other reasons.” you reply, not wanting to make him at fault for your whirlwind feelings as of late. 
he takes in what you say, smart enough to connect some dots. the picture you sent him of you holding baby midoriya in your arms and big brother proudly sitting on your lap was the happiest you’ve looked in some time. “the next chapter…as in, motherhood?” 
you look up at him, studying his mismatched eyes for a hint of how he feels. you sigh, “i know, i know. i guess that’s why i’ve been a little withdrawn…i feel bad about it, i know what you want.” you chuckle sadly, sipping at the wine provided. “really, i’m trying to get over it, i guess. maybe we could get a dog?” 
now he was disappointed. not in your desires, but that you put his possible feelings above your actual ones without ever speaking to him about it. just like you, he had changed as well. he wasn’t the same unsure eighteen year old he was when you married him, and though he still held trauma from his childhood, he had long accepted the concept of being a father since you were by his side. he could do anything if he was with you. he cuts into the meal and gives you a sympathetic glance. 
“you should have told me. a family…i think i’m ready for that, if you’re saying you’re ready to stay home in that way.” he hums, knowing you wouldn’t put yourself in harm’s way after becoming a mother. you gape at him, replaying his words over in your head. 
“wh–i don’t want you to do it just for me.” you double down, blindsided by his revelation. had you really put yourself through all of this for nothing? 
“i would do anything for you.” he replies instantly, and he meant that with no restrictions. “but i had considered it again around the time izuku welcomed his first.” 
“meaning you were ready four years ago?!” you almost cry out just from the shock alone, and he chuckles softly. 
“not ready to have one then, but i knew i would want some eventually. now is a good time. we’re stable. you made me nervous.” he sips at his wine, eating his food nonchalantly. 
“i made you nervous? i–” you sputter, still grappling with the fact that shouto was more than willing to try for a baby. 
“i thought i messed up, you were drifting from me. i wish i had known all you wanted was a child.” he hums thoughtfully, a full plan coming together in his head to comfort both of you. “and you haven’t been getting enough sleep for weeks, so i’ll make sure you get both tonight.” 
you took that to mean that he’ll fuck you to sleep, another thing he’s prone to do at times. so you shower and meet him in bed, trying to repress your giddiness. you didn’t notice the devious smirk your husband gave you as you sink into his arms. he pulls the blankets over you both, leaning in to give you the routine kisses before bed, and then he turns over like he’s going to sleep. 
you look at the ceiling in the dark with confusion. did he forget or change his mind? 
“you have to go to sleep before i’ll give you that child, sweetheart.” he speaks into the night, making your heart pound with a mix of frustration and intrigue and warmth at how he cares for you, as worked up as you were for him now, you groan and turn over. your brain is quiet as it’s your heart that races for once, and eventually you’re able to drift to sleep. 
he waits a few hours to make sure you’re good and asleep, his whole plan would be ruined if he woke you up. shouto loves you more than anything, and he hadn’t been exaggerating when he said he was worried. you had to be well rested, especially if you hoped to give him a baby after all. so only when he hears your quiet snores and deep breathing does he scoot closer, gently positioning you on your back. you dressed in a little nightgown in anticipation of him anyhow, so it was easy for him to locate your waiting bundle of nerves. he rubs you carefully, drawing small circles over your hood as you squirm the slightest bit beside him. he slides his fingers down to the familiar hole beneath, nodding at the feeling of slick appearing, your sweet body was responding to him. he crawls between your legs and carefully pushes your nightgown up over your chest, completely bewitched at the sight of your nipples perking up and goosebumps covering your perfect body. 
he thinks it’s almost ridiculous to think he wouldn’t want children with you. you’ve been in his life since his ua days and no one knew him like you did. you were someone so clearly meant to be a mother, it would be a crime not to give you the family you deserve. he easily parts your thighs, massaging and kneading the thickness he finds there as he lowers his face to your slick cunt. he’s always so gentle, but no time more than now as he hopes to remedy all your problems in one fell swoop like a good husband should. he laps at your center, angular nose bumping against the sensitive clit nestled above until he can hear your breathing change. he didn’t think he’d like it this much, but knowing that your body responds to him even subconsciously has his dick growing in his pants. you taste just as good as usual, growing wetter against his face with every passing second. he slides his fingers in, needing to know when you came. you spasm around the digits as his mouth focuses your swollen clit, and he knows you won’t take much longer. he may need his time understanding emotions and the like, but he knew your body like he knew his own. a few more flicks of his tongue over your nub and pumps of his fingers tickling your insides has you unraveling, and even in your sleep you look majestic cumming on his face. 
he shoves himself out of his boxers, admiring the way you still jerk when he presses his his fingers to your sensitivity. he draws your thighs around his slender hips, angling his pretty cock to your folds. he nuzzles the length along your folds to coat himself despite the pre oozing from his pink tip, taking a second to enjoy that sight in and of itself. then he sheaths himself, careful not to hiss too loud. you feel amazing, clenching him so tight even in the r.e.m stages of sleep, it’s almost too much for him to process. this was the first attempt at a baby, a family he never imagined himself having until he married and matured with you. it’s intoxicating, really, the way he rocks his way into your waiting pussy, silky walls guiding him in and out without any resistance. he has to bite down on his lip not to grunt and moan at how you feel, promising himself that he’d stay quiet and fill you to the brim. he pushes your legs to your chest, watching your face for any signs of discomfort. you only pant softly as he draws in and out of you, figuring this deep angle would be the best for his seed. 
all you did was follow his orders, getting the rest he demanded in exchange for his cum, even though he really won in the end. getting you to sleep, getting to see your body recognize and beg for him, getting to shove his cock deep and impress himself on your womb was more than a fair trade. a soft grunt slips past his lips as his hips stutter. his balls feel unimaginably heavy and then they don’t, his heavy load being fucked even deeper by the determined man you married. even when his warmth pools around his own dick as it goes soft inside you, he doesn’t quit, rolling his hips until he’s too sensitive to continue. 
he’s the one that doesn’t get any sleep that night, watching you sleep with his seed tucked in you only inspired him to take breaks and keep pumping you full, resigning himself to rest hours later  when he can’t possibly cum anymore.
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frogchiro · 10 months
Note
IM HOLDING YOUR HAND PLEASE WE CAN BE DELUSIONAL TOGETGER!!!!
no the letter should be so terrifying, but nothing in it is threatening towards you and its all praises, all words of utter adoration and instead of calling the police you're just on your bed kicking your feet like it's a normal love letter
you start wearing cuter outfits to visit Simon at the butchers, start looking for any excuses to see him! cute little sundresses that show you off a little bit too much, always greeting him with such a sweet smile, bringing him meals you've made with anything you've brought to him! leaving him a little letter confessing just how much you appreciate everything he does, and you mean Everything, and just how many nights you stay awake thinking of him :(
RAAAAAHHH LETS GO
You're absolutely right love :(( Dolling yourself up just to go over to his shop and buy some of that extra fresh meat he always specifically leaves for you, softly pouting and complaining about the new recipe you wanted to try but you accidentally made too much of the cream stew and you're afraid it'll go bad.
Sheepishly asking him if he'd like some as a kind of thank you for the meat he sets aside for you and all the nice things he's done for you like help repairing the old piping and Ghost is over the fucking moon. You offer to cook him food? Share your food with him?? It sound almost like a proposal to him; you already act like the perfect wife for him, you obviously must love him too right??
Wearing cute sundresses when going to the butcher's, always pretty and dolled up and your heart is hammering inside your ribcage, cheeks warm and eyes glossy. Also if you think that Simon won't jerk off to the image of you all neat and pretty in your little yellow dress think again. Gets off like crazy of the sheer contrast between you two; he's a very large man, standing at a whopping 6'4 killing machine, hands rough and callous from years of hard work in the military and now as a butcher, covered in blood. He's big, he's heavy and has a heady musky scent that he'd love to rub off on you.
And then there's you, so small compared to him and soft, your soft curves and body coming to him in dreams at night. There is a certain...something in your eyes that he can't quite decipher, a deep sadness and pain and yet you're still always polite to him and everyone around you, always smiling and greeting others, even rescuing that malnourished black cat that no one wanted and now it's the most spoiled fat black cat he'd ever seen. You smell so nice too, sweet like the baked goods you're often baking but also...like home. Like all those spices and seasonings you put into your food, your perfumes and your own distinct smell, like warmth and safety.
He's obsessed and in love, cums with a growl of your name and grumbles at the sight of his sperm covering his tummy and hairy chest, it should've been inside you and not waste it like this >:(
Little does he know is that you're laying now in your bed wide awake thinking about the mysterious dark butcher who captured your heart, his 'secret' letter in your hand as you re read it for the 3rd time and your heart swells and cheeks warm up at the borderline worshipful words of your 'secret admirer'.
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palioom · 8 months
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just a piece
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summary: dave only married you to keep his life as a hitman hidden. but when he comes home one day to you having cooked one of his childhood meals, he is doubting if he only married you out of necessity.
pairing: dave york x f!reader word count: 3.6k warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n ; unprotected p in v; dirty talk, lowkey breeding kink; love/hate; choking; mentions of killing people 
• masterlist •
To the world, he seemed to have a perfect life.
A nice, sizable house with a huge garden and plenty of space to expand. A loving wife, always making him lunch to take to work with him, always waiting for him when he had to leave on an extended work trip. Adorable kids who loved their dad more than anything, running out the front door when they saw his car pull into the driveway.
In reality, he hated it all.
Well, he loved the house and he loved the kids.
But he hated his wife. 
Wife.
It was simply a sham. A fucking fraud, an illusion to keep his profession as a hitman hidden from everyone.
Dave married her because he had to marry someone, and she seemed sweet enough, pliable enough. 
She was pretty, there was no doubt. 
He couldn’t have done all this with a wife he hated and whom he didn’t find attractive.
It was harder to accuse a hardworking family man with two kids of any murders than someone who lived alone.
So here she was.
Whenever he came home, he fucked her to keep her happy. Fucked her to let go of the tension inside him.
Maybe also because he enjoyed it. The warm, wet pussy of a wife he hated was better than his own fist after all.
Still, no matter how long he was gone for, he never found himself cheating.
Would it still be cheating even though he didn’t love her?
Because he didn’t, she was just a piece to keep up the appearance. As were the kids, as much as he loved them.
But not her.
Or did he?
Sometimes he found himself in doubt, when she greeted him with a wide smile and loving eyes after he came home from some investigation which actually was just another one of his hitman jobs.
Kissing him so hard he had to catch his breath after.
The way she cared for him, warm dinners every night, breakfast every morning.
She loved him, she really did.
But he didn’t love her.
No, he hated her.
When he came home this time, after having been gone for two weeks to take out some guy in fucking Italy of all places, a country his wife had always wanted to visit, he was already greeted by her sing song voice from the kitchen.
“Dave! You’re back!” She said with excitement, appearing in his view as she came from the kitchen, walking towards him with her arms spread wide. “I missed you, honey!”
His smile matched hers, even if it was just pretend, kissing her deeply as he embraced her.
Smelling sweet like her favourite perfume, the expensive one from Gucci she usually wore when he came home.
Why did he even remember this? Like it was important.
“Missed you too.” He replied, still smiling as he kissed her forehead. Hand smoothing down her sides, wandering over her shirt and then to her ass, nice and round in her jeans.
Sometimes he could imagine her in one of those frilly dresses the women wore in the 50s, the housewives who greeted their husbands with a fresh pie.
She was like that in a way, just a little more outspoken than the women of the 50s.
Then he smelled it, hearty and rich, a smell he knew but which he couldn’t quite place. 
As she looked at him, his brows furrowed in thought, she giggled, biting her lip.
“Do you recognize it?” Her eyes sparkled as she looked at him. Waiting for him to get it.
Dave had spoken so much about it before he left, not ever really to her, but she had heard him.
This dish his mother used to make him, one of his favourites.
“Carbonada.” The realization hit him, looking at her with a questioning stare.
She nodded, the joy on her face almost infectious, her small hands finding his, pulling him into the kitchen with her.
“I’ve looked everywhere for a recipe. You’ve talked about it to Matt next door, saying it was your favourite.” She said and somehow he wished he could turn her sweet voice off sometimes. 
The only way she shut up was with a cock in her mouth, her muffled whimpers so much better. 
Yet, he found himself listening, genuinely curious and impressed.
“It took me so long to perfect it, the way you described it, I really hope you like it.”
She was too sweet. Too caring, too kind.
For him at least.
There were rare moments in which he felt pity for her, felt like she deserved a husband who actually cared about her beyond the appearance he had to keep up to be the perfect American family. 
Someone who saw her as more than a hole to fuck, than the means to an end.
She let go of his hands to grab a spoon from the cabinet, and he found himself surprised to miss her touch for the first time, his hands warm where she had touched him.
Like a mark, fingers flexing as he stood behind her, watching her as she lifted the lid off the pot on the stove, white steam wafting upwards, carrying the smell right to him.
It smelled like his childhood, something he hadn’t smelled in decades.
Looked like it, too.
The beef, the squash, the rice, the potatoes. She even used green beans and corn.
It seemed a little more liquid than the stew his mother used to make, but besides that, exactly the same.
Dipping the spoon in, she turned around to Dave, holding one hand below it so the soup wouldn’t drip onto the floor, then held it out to him.
“Careful, baby, it’s still nice and hot.” A laugh accompanied her words, the laugh he had come to tolerate but which now seemed quite nice to hear.
“Well, let’s see what you cooked up, sweetpea.” He said, smiling a little.
Blowing on the food once or twice to cool it off, he carefully ate from it, her smile only widening as she watched his eyes go wide.
Almost exactly like the one he knew. Maybe a little too much paprika and not enough onions, but just as hearty and tasty as he knew it.
He couldn’t believe that she would go above and beyond to do this for him, from something she had only overheard, no less.
Did he really hate her as much as he thought he did?
Could he hate those big, gorgeous eyes that looked at him with hope and excitement as he chewed? That sweet smile of hers? Her cheeks, so soft and round as she grinned so wide?
“Fuck.” He said, and for a moment he watched her smile fade just a tad. Felt his heart clench just the littlest bit at the thought that she could be disappointed.
His broad hands cupped the back of her head and pulled her to him, a yelp escaping her when he pressed his lips against hers with a passion she rarely saw from him.
Not that he wasn’t passionate, but this surprised even her, pushing her against the counter, the spoon falling from her hand and landing on the floor with a loud noise.
Her hands cupped his cheeks as she kissed him back, wondering if this meant that he liked it.
She hoped, having worked on it the entire two weeks he was gone.
“How did you do that?” Dave asked against her lips, nose brushing against hers. He had never noticed just how pretty her eyes could be, always somewhat detached from what he was doing when he was around her.
Couldn’t get attached. 
Couldn’t?
He wasn’t. He hated her.
Still, even when he fucked her he preferred to push her face into the mattress, take her in some way that he didn’t have to look into her face. Not that she had ever minded.
“Tried it again and again ‘til I thought it was good.” She giggled, thumb brushing over his cheekbone. Something was different about him today. “The kids can’t see it anymore and all the neighbours got their fill, Matt says ‘Thank you’.”
Dave could imagine her here at the stove, trying again and again to get it right, to please him.
Like the dutiful, little wife she was.
“God, I love you.” He sighed, and for the first time, he didn’t think that he was lying.
It scared him, he shouldn’t feel anything for her. It was dangerous, already damn dangerous that he loved their kids as much as he did. 
But her? She was a piece.
Nothing more than a thread to tie the illusion of a happy family together.
Fuck, he couldn’t love her.
“So, it’s good?” She asked, her hands wandering down over his neck, to his shoulders and coming to rest on his chest, curling into the crisp, white dress shirt he still wore. “Did I do good?”
Always out for praise. Hard to achieve with a husband like him but sometimes he gave her what she needed.
This time, it was genuine.
“Near perfect, babe.” He kissed her again, licking along her lips, begging for entry. She granted it to him, tasting like the lemonade she liked so much, the sweet mixing with the salty in his mouth.
Suddenly, he felt an urge for her that went beyond his pent up emotions from the past two weeks. Not that he hadn’t taken care of himself, because he did.
Always faceless women, but her body. Never her face.
Always her muffled moans and whimpers and those screams she let out when he was a bit rougher when the kids were with friends.
Did some fucking soup really make him cave in? What the fuck had she put in it that made him weak for her, suddenly?
A lapse in judgement, surely. Exhausted from his mission, brain weak.
“Are the kids home?” He asked in between kisses, already turning them around, hands wandering to her ass, to her hips, walking them in the direction of their living room.
She shook her head and a quiet groan left him, glad that he had her to herself.
“Slumber party.”
Her hand pressed against the bulge in his suit pants, half hard already, making her giggle as he groaned again, deeper this time. Palming him, feeling the thick outline of him as that familiar throbbing sensation set in between her thighs.
Growing wet at the thought of him inside of her, having missed him so much. 
The toys she had and her fingers just weren’t the same as his girthy cock filling her up.
“Don’t you want to eat first?” She asked, the back of her legs bumping against their sofa, fingers curling into his shirt to hold onto him. 
“Got a different appetite, sweetpea.”
His eyes were hungry, dark and piercing. Hands immediately moving to the button of her jeans, opening it as he kissed her again.
Pulling down the zipper, then letting his hand sneak into her pants.
She gasped when his thick fingers pressed against her clothed clit, a low hum following after. Her hands grabbed his biceps, steadying herself.
Always so pliable, that was the one thing he loved about her.
Jaw slack and eyes fighting to stay open as he coaxed more sounds out of her, pressing down harder.
“Dave-” She whimpered, hissing when he removed his hand again, yanking down her jeans. “I need you, baby.”
“Need you too.” He responded, voice gravelly as he helped her step out of her pants, then her underwear. “C’mon, darling.”
He did need her. Desire simmered deep in his abdomen, but he was still unnerved by the sudden sliver of affection he felt.
As if he wanted her for her and not because his dick was aching to feel something other than the rough palm of his fist.
Ached for her warm, wet pussy, filling her up until she was begging for his cum. Begging him to fuck another baby into her.
She didn’t know he had gotten sterilized right after their daughter had been born.
Back then he couldn’t stand the thought of her pregnant again, relying on him and crying for him. Calling every night while he was glad to be away from her for once.
Now… there was a tiny voice in his head telling him another would be great.
He shook his head as if to get rid of the thoughts, watching as she got on the sofa, on all fours. The way he usually fucked her.
On all fours, over the counter or kitchen island. Facing away from him even when she rode him.
Sometimes he indulged her, and while he didn’t mind looking at her face, it just felt different, felt better when he didn’t have to.
“No.” He heard himself say, reaching out lay his hand on her clothed shoulder before he could stop himself. “Get on your back, wanna see those pretty tits bounce when I fuck you.”
That was partly why, but he also felt the sudden urge to watch her face.
What the hell was happening to him?
A lapse of judgement.
Just a lapse of judgement.
She grinned, turning around and sitting down instead, leaning back onto her hands and spreading her legs for him.
Soaking pussy on display for him, glistening and waiting for him.
“Take off your shirt.” He ordered, hungry eyes raking over her body as he opened the buttons of his dress shirt. 
Fuck, she was gorgeous, always has been. Not even the way their kids changed her could really turn him off.
Back then, he had really thought it would.
She waited for a moment, her hands wandering along the inside of her thighs, slow and teasing as she looked up at him. Always a little mischievous.
Dave didn’t know whether he should hate or admire it, shrugging his shirt off and stripping out of his undershirt next.
She loved his soft stomach, he used to be leaner, before he met her. A little more muscular.
He still was muscular, strong when he wrapped his arms around her or pushed her into the mattress when his hips snapped into hers.
But now a little soft layer had built around them, from all the meals she was cooking every day.
He’d be damned to ever hate her food. What a damn talented wife he had, always whipping up the best possible versions of the dishes he knew, even impressing the neighbours when they invited them over.
She liked him soft.
When he raised his brows, she took off her t-shirt, throwing it to the side, working on her bra next as he worked on his pants.
She watched how his hard dick sprung free when he had finally taken off everything, crawling over her and pushing her down onto the sofa while kissing her.
One of his hands groped her breast, his mouth swallowing the moan that left hers. So soft and warm in his hand, the rough pad of his thumb brushing over the hardened nipple.
A shiver ran through her, letting him press her into the soft cushions, spreading her legs for him, feeling his thighs brush against her skin.
Cock heavy and leaking, resting against her stomach, his hand wandering higher to her throat.
Not squeezing, just feeling her faint pulse as she looked up at him with lidded eyes, so desperate for him.
There was something about this he enjoyed, the sight of his hand wrapped around her throat, the same way he killed people. If he just squeezed a little too hard, that desperate gaze would vanish from her face, from her pretty face.
Sometimes he wished he could, but then all of it would have been for nothing. And he had the kids, his son and his daughter that he loved so much.
He couldn’t do that to them.
Or to her.
“Fuck me, Dave.” She whined, her hips canting upwards, pussy aching for him. “I need your cock.”
“Is my wife’s little pussy hurting?” He asked with a grin, enjoying to see her like this.
Loved teasing her until she was begging him to fuck her, until he could do just about anything to her.
Her hand wandered to his dick, wrapping her tiny hand around the thick base, guiding him to her weeping entrance as she nodded.
“Need me to fill you up, sweetpea?” He asked, voice so saccharine sweet it bordered on mocking. “Want me to split you open?”
“Yes, Dave, please.”
Such a sweet voice.
Who could resist that? Slowly pressing forward, enjoying every inch of her tight heat, enjoying how she gasped, the way her eyes rolled into the back of her head.
What a sight.
Hand wrapped around her throat and her face already so blissed out as if he had just fucked her a few times.
Maybe he’d always fuck her like this now, watching her face when he buried himself inside of her, all the way to the hilt, until she whimpered and pressed her thighs against his hips.
“You’ve been good while I was gone?” Dave asked, already pulling back before slowly sinking into her again. She liked the pain, the faint sting of him fucking her open. “Or did you fuck yourself on some silicone dick thinking about your husband?”
Her nails dug into his bicep, the full feeling of him inside of her too much, only getting better with his words.
Shaking her head, forcing her pretty eyes open to look at him. “Didn’t fuck myself.”
He chuckled, snapping his hips into her harshly, making her cry out, before continuing his slow pace.
“Played with your little clit then, thinking about my fingers?” The way she clenched around him told him all he needed to know. “Of course you did, can’t go two weeks without me, baby.”
Fingers tightening around her throat, he sped up, the wet sounds of her pussy and skin slapping against skin echoing in the living room.
“You jerk off, too.” She said and he chuckled, the sound making her smile a hazy smile, getting lost quickly in the feeling of him fucking into her, his fingers slowing down the bloodflow. “Need me just as much.”
Dave laughed.
It was relief that he needed, thinking about her wetting his dick when he was away, not her. 
Maybe he needed her a little bit.
No, he knew what was stupid. She was just a piece.
A pretty piece with too much devotion.
She got closer quickly, her fingers finding her clit as he kept pistoning into her, her whimpers growing louder.
“And now my cock isn’t even enough?” He asked, squeezing just a little more, her eyes rolling into her head again. Mouth hanging open, sounds turning more and more breathy with each thrust.
Suddenly he realized he hadn’t watched her tits once, seeing them bounce in the periphery of his vision but keeping his eyes locked on her face.
Just what the fuck was happening to him that he’d rather watch her cockdrunk face than her pretty tits bouncing with each thrust.
When he’d avoided it for so long.
“Dave, please!” She whined, voice small as she came closer. “Fill me up, please!”
He groaned, her words almost doing him in. Loving when she begged for his cum, so hungry for it.
“Gonna fill you up, don’t worry, darling.” He grunted, losing his rhythm, thrusts becoming sloppy. “Cum for me, wanna feel your little pussy.”
She snapped, taking a sharp breath as her body seized up, the nails on his arms almost breaking skin as she came, squeezing his dick tightly. Almost forcing him out of her if he wasn’t thrusting into her with such a force that he pushed her higher with each snap of his hips.
“There you go, baby, just like that.”
He followed after, stilling inside of her and filling her up like he promised, lips finding hers as a deep groan rumbled in his chest. Grip around her neck loosening, hand moving over her breast, down her side and to her thigh, squeezing the meaty flesh there.
Forehead resting against hers as they both calmed down, her eyes opening to look into his, so close to her.
She loved his dark eyes, smiling as she caught her breath, her hands smoothing over his back now, wandering into his hair.
A shiver went down his spine when her nails raked over his scalp, once again so loving and gentle.
Too good for what he felt for her.
Though laying here with her, buried inside her still throbbing pussy, he felt a different kind of warmth inside him, cursing himself for it.
He wasn’t sure anymore if it was that fucking soup she made.
Must’ve been, showing him just how attentive she really was, the whole thing awakening something inside of him that he thought he had killed a long time ago.
“Don’t wanna get rid of you but,” she said suddenly, kissing his nose as she still looked up at him with those loving eyes, “you should eat, you must be hungry, baby.”
Dave chuckled.
Too damn caring.
“You’re right, I should eat.” He said, pulling out of her gently, forehead still resting against hers. “Then I’ll get my dessert upstairs.”
She giggled, cupping his cheeks.
He was so handsome, she could stare at him all day.
“You can also have it in the kitchen if you’re that starved.” She said with a mischievous grin, laughing quietly.
Yeah, something was different today.
And he wasn’t sure if this was good or bad.
None of this had been part of the plan.
Because of some stupid, fucking soup.
Dave had gotten himself into a situation more dangerous than any of the missions he’d been on in his entire life.
Falling in love with the wife he was supposed to hate.
1K notes · View notes
loveephia · 1 year
Text
HIS CUTE FIANCÉ | ushijima wakatoshi
content: (🦷) tooth-rotting fluff, a sprinkle of angst, cute scenes of you and ushijima, your schoolmates being slightly jealous of you both, reader comes from a rich family, kind of manhwa-esque.
⚠ warning/s: reader hurts herself on accident and while cooking.
note: i remember people wanting a little drabble on this when i posted my 200 followers special, so here you go! :D
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"oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh." was what ran through your mind when you watched ushijima wakatoshi officially sign the contract.
it was an arranged marriage. ushijima is knowingly the number two ace of japan, while your family owns a big sports company. this marriage would benefit ushijima in terms of popularity, while your family would benefit in more sales.
soon enough, this marriage would all be terminated once both sides are content with the outcome, so ushijima and his family agreed by contract. you were ecstatic, to say the least, having successfully hidden your small crush on the giant for ages now.
"it's a pleasure to be working with you, son." your father held out his hand to shake ushijima's.
somehow, during the next day at shiratorizawa, word got out of you two getting married soon, and it was all your schoolmates could talk about.
they all chattered about you both non-stop, saying how annoyingly perfect you are together. ushijima is this big, strong guy who has this intense passion for volleyball, yet he still happens to make time for you. while you're his doting and clumsy wife-to-be.
clumsy, you ask? well, one time, you tripped up the stairs because you were too busy admiring ushijima. you ended up with a medium-sized scar and several specks on your knee, but it all ended alright, since ushijima took nice care of it.
he led you to the infirmary, but unfortunately, the nurse was out on break, so ushijima took matters into his own hands. he first disinfected the minor wounds made before pouring a tiny bit of the antibiotics on a clean cotton ball. he then lightly padded it onto your scarred knee.
you apologized to ushijima for worrying him like this, but he brushed it off, telling you that it was nothing. "i don't mind taking care of you. it's the least that i could do while we're together."
the volleyball team was shocked from the news, to say the least. ushijima was surely handsome, but he can be a bit aloof, so it could drive some of the girls away. because of that, the team didn't expect that he'd be the first from them all to get married.
"so, how's married life treating ya, ushiwaka?" tendō joked, leaning an arm on his broad shoulder. "we're not married yet." ushijima stoicly replied.
"yet! he said yet!" your heart felt innocently happy at his choice of wording.
you were never too big on cooking, but to impress ushijima, you spent an entire week in shiratorizawa's hot and fiery kitchen, getting taught how to make the best hayashi rice by the school's cooking club.
"why'd you decide to do this, y/n? i mean.. you'd usually stay the farthest from the stove whenever we have home economic classes." a member asked curiously. you jumped at the sudden question, as if being caught red-handed. "oh! uhm.. i wanted to give ushi— i mean.. wakatoshi a bento to thank him for taking care of me this one time." your face went aflame at the memory of him patching up your knee with a cute band-aid.
you bashfully rubbed the back of your head, "but i don't think my current cooking skills will be enough to satisfy his taste buds."
"that's true, you're a terrible cook, y/n!" a friend walking by teased you while you tried to defend yourself, failing miserably in the process.
"anyway, that's why i came here. to get better." you said, determination in those eyes of yours. it moved the cooking club's members, and they adored your resoluteness. "okay, we'll help you!"
once you mastered the recipe, you added your own twist to be original and brought ushijima a bento. it was bundled up in a pastel wrapping cloth with a cute pattern on it. your classmates marveled at it, awaiting for the two of you to speak.
"what's this?" ushijima asked.
"it's.. hayashi rice. i made it. i hope you like it..!"
you left the classroom quickly to protect yourself from his reaction, which could only go both ways; good or bad. "i don't think my heart can take it if he dislikes my cooking.." you thought.
ushijima had already really liked the hayashi rice being served in the cafeteria, but since this was made by you, he supposes that he can take a bite or two.
and oh, did he love it.
it was similar to shiratorizawa's hayashi rice, but the flavor was more prominent, and the taste was much richer. i guess this is what happens when you have a bit of allowance left from your parents. aka the ingredients were pricey, and you had access to more spices since the shiratorizawa kitchen was a bit limited.
but not only that, he could tell that it was made with love (as if the heart-shaped rice wasn't obvious enough). ushijima had noticed your fingers being covered with small cuts earlier, probably from slicing the ingredients. it showed him that you really worked hard to make it.
he kindly asked if you could make another.
whenever you and ushijima are sitting next to each other in the cafeteria, you'd play with his large calloused hands for the fun of it. he doesn't mind, really. it's almost as if a kitten was massaging some bread on his palm. quite therapeutic if i do say so myself.
a bold move of ushijima that you'll never forget is the time he hugged you from behind for the first time. he was tired from practice and wanted to rest a bit, so he used you as his pillow. rest assured that he was feeling well-energized with you in his muscular arms.
you warmed up to ushijima and managed to earn yourself a soft spot in his heart. even ushijima's fellow volleyball members have noticed how relaxed he's been lately.
the day of termination has come, and both sides were more than happy with what they profited. ushijima had gotten more magazine gigs for the sports section, and your family had gained more than enough money to last them until the next generation.
you and ushijima were in your father's spacious office room with the contract laying despairingly on the table in front of you. your father, himself, was sitting on the opposing side of the both of you.
thinking of this all ending makes your heart heavy, but ushijima never did this for love, so i guess it's to be expected. being loved back is asking for too much, so the least you could do is respect his own feelings.
"i'm thankful for the past few months."
you reluctantly signed your signature on the left side of the contract and waited patiently for ushijima to pick up the pen and do the same.
but he never did.
with a sigh, ushijima speaks up, "is it possible to renew the contract? i don't think i'm satisfied yet."
your jaw drops, and you face your father, whose expression seems to be a playful one. "oho~ and what have you still not gotten out of this that isn't to your heart's content? a sports scholarship for college? or perhaps a partnership?" he lists.
"your daughter's real hand in marriage." ushijima states.
"huh?!" you face ushijima to see if this is just some kind of cruel joke being played on you, but ushijima wasn't one for funny punchlines. in fact, he was always very straightforward.
"that is if.. y/n is okay with it." and now, ushijima and your father are looking at you for your answer.
you nod shyly and look down at your own lap.
"very well then! i'll check this with my lawyer and my wife to see what we can do." your father walked out of the office room, leaving you with ushijima.
you play with the hem of your dress nervously, not knowing what to say. "i saw the way you hesitated to sign the contract earlier," ushijima started, and you turn to him, surprised by how on-point his assesment was, "so i thought that you'd be okay to continue being engaged."
"truthfully, i grew comfortable with your presence. and on days when you weren't beside me, i'd wonder where you were and how you were doing."
"there was never a day where you weren't on my mind." he admits.
now you were feeling dizzy from his words. "i- i see.."
"is that all you have to say to me?" ushijima asks, hopeful, as he leans close to you. "w- well..!"
you muster up your remaining courage and silently mumble, "..thank you for loving me, wakatoshi."
ushijima smiles gently at your verbal reply, it being exactly what he wanted to hear.
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© lowercase intended | loveephia
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chilling-seavey · 7 days
Text
Don't Worry Darling (gr63)
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↳ A/N The best part about watching movies as a writer, is being inspired to write my own spin-off of the plot. I was absolutely gagged when I watched DWD and this came of it.
↳ Inspired By Don't Worry Darling (2022)
↳ Summary: Married and thriving in an idealised community based on routine, gender roles, and arguable paradise, you and George seem to be just as perfect together as the utopia you live within - but not everything is as it seems on the surface.
↳ Pairings: George Russell x Wife!Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)
↳ Word Count: 21.7k
↳ Warnings: 18+, gender roles, smut, oral (f reciving), breeding kink to the maaaax (and the applicable dirty talk to go along with it), one or two instances of 'mommy' and 'daddy' but not in the spicy sense, unprotected sex (we're trying to make a baby here, people), some descriptions of sickness, brief mention of suicide, some mention of medical content, dark undertones.
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The summer sun danced across the freshly cleaned carpeted floors, lining perfectly with the horizontal streaks from the vacuum that had been taken to it only a few moments before. The single storey house smelt of fresh linen and citrus cleaning products and the full glass windows sparkled brilliantly in the early afternoon sun. Outside in the backyard, the two rows of clotheslines were hung over pristine green grass and the crisp white sheets were hung perfectly over each line and pinned precisely on each end. The wind rippled through them in the calm breeze, wafting clean scents across the trimmed backyard and tended garden of flourishing flowers. 
In your pastel blue dress, the empty laundry basket rested on your hip as you returned inside from tending to the laundry, a gentle whistle on your lips to a tune you couldn’t quite place but had been stuck in your head for a few days. Your white kitten heels walked silently across the perfectly vacuumed carpet back towards the mudroom that was tucked beside the garage and took the last load of laundry out of the washing machine to place in the basket. 
The crisp white dress shirts were hung on the clothesline in the backyard beside the clean sheets, pinned delicately by their shoulders so the wind could take their freshness and dry them in the summer air. 
Rain was never a concern as the neighbourhood in which you lived never had a day of spotty weather. In fact, since the day you and your husband moved into the desert oasis town, there had been nothing but comfortable temperatures and clear skies. It was just another confirmation that your decision to move out of your every-day society and into this private section of the world was the correct one. 
Running your hands down the front of the final clean dress shirt, you leaned in towards it to inhale the fresh scent of fabric softener that encapsulated the fibres and filled your senses with the familiarity that was your husband. With him away at work during the days, one might think that you would get lonely. On the contrary, there were always things for you to take up your time with. If you weren’t cleaning the house for his return, preparing dinner, or tending to the garden, you had lots of opportunities to visit the shops in town, lounge by the pool with the other ladies in the neighbourhood, or attend ballet classes where you could. Life had no stress. Life was perfect. 
With the laundry drying in the yard, you returned inside to begin preparing dinner. Your white apron was tied around your waist and you flipped open your recipe book to select your evening meal. Missing your husband a little extra that afternoon, you decided to make his favourite for his homecoming. 
On freshly scrubbed countertops and over the sparkling clean stove, you prepared the meal for him delicately and with nothing but your utmost attention to detail. He deserved nothing more than perfection. The meat was seasoned by your careful manicured hands and laid in a bed of onions and potatoes and spices in the oven to roast, the timer set for an exact hour. With the vegetables cooking on the stovetop and the counters washed down from dinner prep, you began to set the dining table for two. 
The china dishes that had been a wedding gift were set between carefully placed sterling silver cutlery and two slim candles were lit in the centre of the table. You crouched in front of the fireplace that divided the dining room from the living room and lit the flame, making sure it caught on the kindling before you shut the glass to protect the pristine home you kept from the smoke or flame. On your way back to the kitchen, you dimmed the dining room lighting down to a romantic glow and stopped by the record player to set one of your shared favourite records to play softly in the background. 
When the clock struck 5:00, you had just placed the roast on the table alongside the dishes of vegetables and salad and you hurried across the carpet floor towards the bar. Your apron was pulled off and tossed under the counter and out of sight and you quickly poured a perfect amount of golden liquor into a crystal glass and took it with you to the front door. The moment you reached the foyer, you had just a second to make sure you looked your best in the mirror by the door as the headlights flashed through the frosted glass window down the left hand side of the front door. 
The sound of footsteps on the front porch guided you to open the door with an eager smile, revealing your husband on the other side. In his work shoes and black jacket, his hand was tucked casually in the front pocket of his slacks with his briefcase in his other hand. He wore no tie but the buttoned up white shirt that you had ironed for him that morning was already slightly creased from his long day and would require laundering. But your attention was all focused on his perfectly gelled brown hair and his loving eyes that sparkled in the warm light that surrounded you. 
George was already smiling as if anticipating your usual greeting after a long day away and he stepped over the threshold of your shared home and set his briefcase by the door without tearing his eyes away from you for a second. 
“Welcome home, sunshine.” you said sweetly, offering out his drink. 
“Hi, sweetheart.” he whispered adoringly, stepping closer to you and he slid his hands around your waist to rest against the small of your back and he pulled you right up against him for a swift kiss. 
Your free hand easily wrapped around his shoulders as he walked you backwards farther into your house, the two of you sharing love-sick kisses after a long day apart. 
“How was your day?” you asked softly, when he pulled away from you for a half second to lick his lips.
“Absolute shit until now.” George whispered back, moving right in once more and he let one of his hands raise to cradle your jaw and guide your lips back on his. He lingered on your mouth for a second before his hand finally dropped to take his glass from you. 
“Then it’s a good thing I made your favourite.” you said, starting to unbutton his jacket for him as he sipped his drink all while staring at you and leading you both farther into the house and towards the dining room. 
“Mhm?” George blindly set his still half-full glass on the kitchen counter with a dull clink as you both passed by briefly so he could pull you back in for more kisses. 
You smiled against his mouth and your hands rested daintily against his chest as he leaned into you, expertly keeping up with the way his lips locked with yours in feverish kisses as if he had been too deprived of you. His large hands cascaded down your body and over your hips, steering you towards your perfectly set dinner table under the ambiance of the romantic music crackling from the record player and the fireplace flickering nearby.
“Cleaned the whole house for you too.” you continued between kisses even as your hands pushed his jacket from his shoulders and let it fall to the crisply vacuumed carpet. 
“Yeah, it looks so good, darling.” George breathed into your mouth as his hands grabbed your thighs and he hiked you right up onto the end of the dining room table. 
In all reality, he hadn’t taken his eyes off of you from the second you opened the door for him. The entire house could have been trashed and graffitied and he wouldn’t have even batted an eyelash because all his focus was on you. It had been that way for as long as you could remember - ever since he first laid eyes on you - and your honeymoon phase only followed you well into your first year of marriage. The whole neighbourhood knew that well. No one was as perfect for each other or as perfect together as you and George were.
Eyes locked, you were breathing heavily into each other’s open mouths as his hands helped themselves up your skirt and you shifted to help him tug your panties down your legs. They were easily tossed to the floor and George’s lips went for your neck, trailing impatient wet kisses down your skin until he was dropping to his knees at the head of the table. 
“Oh, I missed you.” you breathed to the ceiling as he bunched up your dress around your waist and then dragged his tongue right between your legs. Your sharp inhale had him doing it again before he was wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling your legs over his shoulders. 
You fell onto your back against the table with a gasp, your hands knocking the salad bowl to the floor without concern as you messily caught yourself against the wood top. The simple touch of his mouth against your cunt had your breathing falling shallow and you gasped to the peaked ceiling of your mid-century home as you laid out on the dining table like you were dinner itself. 
George hummed gladly against your pussy as he warmed you up with filthy wet kisses. He acted like he had been deprived of you for weeks but in reality it had barely been twenty-four hours since you found yourself in a similar position. Your relationship really had nothing but strength in all aspects behind it. 
The feeling of his warm wet tongue gliding up flatly between your lips had your back arching off the table with a strangled gasp and your hands flew above your head to try and grab onto something, only knocking off the two place settings you had so meticulously set. The carpeted floor caught them delicately and without much of a sound but you were all too focused on the way George’s mouth felt to care about anything else. He lapped filthily at your clit as your breaths turned into moans and he nuzzled his face deeper into you, having craved you all day. 
“George-” you gasped to the ceiling, eyes screwing shut as he flicked his tongue over your clit in quick patterns. “Oh my God.” 
He moaned up against you and let his fingers press into the flesh of your thighs as he held your legs over his shoulders hungrily, playing with your swollen clit until your toes were curling and your back was arching. The filthy slurps and smacks of his mouth and tongue against your pussy were arousing and they easily drowned out the sound of the gentle record player across the room, harmonizing perfectly with your breathless whimpers and moans that were all for him. 
He was ruthless with it, eating you out like he wholeheartedly craved you until you were writhing against the wood dining table. Your hands flew down to his head between your legs and your fingers raked through his styled brown hair to tug pleadingly on the roots to feel him closer, to feel more of him. Mouth agape and eyebrows furrowed with pleasure, you peered down your body towards him but the voluminous skirt of your dress hindered your view slightly. Instead, you let your head fall back against the table, your back arching, and you let him urge the moans from your chest. 
“Fuck, baby.” you choked out, pulling at his hair harder. 
His tongue on your pussy had you quivering and he knew you like the back of his hand; always knowing right where you needed him and how to make you see stars. He tugged you a little closer to the edge of the table so he could get more of his mouth on you and his hands pried your thighs open wider, giving him full access to every inch of you. 
Your moans grew louder, pitchier, your hips trying to grind against his face as his tongue ravaged your clit mercilessly until you were flushing warm all over and aching for release. One of your hands reached above your head to grab the edge of the table, swatting the bowl of peas and carrots to the carpet blindly as you did so but you didn’t care. You were all too hung up on him and his perfect mouth. 
“Oh, darling-” you cried to the ceiling, “I’m gonna cum-”
George kept his tongue on your clit, lapping quickly at it at that same consistent pace that made you dizzy. Gasping and moaning through the romantic air, you let him take the pleasure from your veins until you were falling perfectly silent and your eyes rolled shut as your back arched helplessly off the table. 
George’s deep moan against you sent shockwaves up your spine as he licked and suckled at your cunt as you came for him, soaking his mouth in your creamy liquids that satisfied his cravings just so. You completely sobbed out his name once the height of your orgasm washed over you, your fingers clutching his hair to hold him against you just a little bit longer. He pulled away with a sharp inhale and a lick to his lips, standing up smoothly to let your legs fall gently back to the edge of the table. 
You brushed your hands over your once-tidy hair and peered down your body to where he stood at the head of the table unbuckling his belt with nothing but the strongest lust in his eyes. You hiked up the skirt of your dress some more and smeared your fingers through your messy cunt that was shimmering wet for him and from him. 
“Come here.” George ordered lowly as he kicked off his shoes across the carpeted floor and let his pants follow before he was sitting himself down on the stray dining chair, his hard cock standing stiff and swollen with need for you. 
You were still shuttering from your orgasm but you pushed yourself up from the tabletop and slid off the edge to land on your feet, your heels catching you silently against the carpet. He patted his thigh and then held out his hand to you, encouraging you over and helped you to toss a leg over his lap to straddle him. George shuffled up the large skirt of your dress and you helped him pull it over your head and drop it to the floor behind you, leaving you in only your bra and him in only his shirt as your lips found each other’s again. 
His hands groped your ass, pulling you closer to him hungrily as your lips smacked wetly together amid tongue-led kisses. Your arms around his shoulders allowed your fingers to tangle in his hair and you pulled his head closer until he was leaning into you to keep kissing you, sharing moans and breaths of nothing but pure erotica together. 
“Oh, baby.” you breathed out of your heated kisses, tilting your head back as his lips magnetized to your neck and your hands cradled his head adoringly. 
“I want you on my cock.” George spoke lowly against your neck, “I want you bouncing on my fucking cock.” 
“Yes, please.” you shifted on his lap to rise up slightly with your feet planted on either side of him and he reached down to angle his dick for you. 
With your hands on his shoulders, you slowly sunk down on his dick to feel every inch of it stretching you out snugly. Mouth falling open, your thighs met his lap and you moaned shakily at the warm stretch he gave you, swirling your hips lazily to feel him everywhere. 
“Good girl, darling.” George praised, resting back against the chair with his hands securely on your hips. 
Right away, you began to bounce on him, using the anchor of your feet on the carpeted ground on either side of the dining chair to keep you supported. You leaned your head back with a gentle shake to get your hair out of your face but kept your hands on his shoulders with your fingers gripping onto the once ironed white fabric. 
“Fuck, that’s my good fucking girl.” George praised through his teeth. 
“Oh my God.” you groaned out shakily. 
You were addicted to the clap of your skin together; the filthy lewd sound that was proof of your undying love and devotion to each other. How you were the pair that everyone else envied. 
When your eyes met, you could feel your insides fluttering from only his stare and the stormy mixture of love and lust that settled behind his gaze. Fingers tangled in the back of his hair, you held him close as you greedily fucked yourself on his lap, completely salivating at the feeling of his generous cock sheathed so perfectly inside you. It was hard to keep your eyes open with the pleasure that surged within you but your husband’s stare was completely addictive. He stared at you like you were the world and with his hands on your hips, he helped you guide you through your bounces until you were choking out the sweetest moans. 
George pulled you close by your waist so you could rest right down against his chest and your arms went right around his shoulders, allowing you to share another sloppy kiss as your bounces moulded into purposeful grinds. You moaned into each other’s mouths as your pussy gripped around his cock with each roll of your hips, your feet still tucked in your heels looping around the back legs of the dining chair to five yourself some added leverage to help yourself to his body. Grinding on him back and forth, a little faster, you broke your kiss with a soft gasp, letting your head fall backwards and his lips found your neck. 
George’s hands groped your ass and he pulled you into your motions steadily, making sure you were able to feel all of each other as much as possible. His teeth sunk gently into your flesh where your neck met your shoulder and he groaned tightly against your skin as you ground down on him faster, harder, whining for more. He spanked your ass before gliding his hands up your back and he let his furrowed gaze find your face, staring at the pleasure that took over your features. Your hands gripped the back of his hair and the back of his shirt, rolling your body against his hungrily as your lips were drawn together again. 
Both of you shared hungry moans and sloppy kisses as you ground yourself down on his dick and rode him purposefully on the dining room chair. The dinner that hadn’t been swiped to the ground in your initial rush was growing cold on the serving dishes but the waste of your hard work was truly the last thing on your mind. Instead, your attention was taken up by your handsome husband and the feeling of his warm skin taking you over - body and soul. 
Breaking your wet tongue-led kiss with a whimpering gasp, your head fell back for a moment as your hips lead their course on his lap, fingers clutching his hair and his shirt as you swirled yourself back and forth on his dick and watched how his handsome face was stricken in pleasure. His hands on your waist urged you to shift again and you gladly moved back into steady bounces using the anchor of your heels on the carpeted floor. 
“Oh my God, George.” you choked out, keeping your eyes on his. “Yes.” 
His deep groans in time with every bounce of your body on his lap filled the warm romantic air between you, his hands gripping a little tighter to your hips to pull you down a little harder, a little faster. 
“Good girl.” he praised lowly. 
“Are you close?” you asked shakily. 
“Yeah, baby.” his voice was strained slightly and he stared down his body to watch how you took him all with every ungraceful stroke, his feet planted firmly on the carpet as he stayed slouched back against the dining chair. “Fuck.”
“I want you to come in me.” you breathed shakily. 
“Yeah?” George’s right hand rose from your waist to hold your jaw tenderly and his thumb slid into your mouth, “Want me to put a baby in you?” 
“Fuck- uh huh-“ you groaned through his thumb, shamelessly bouncing harder on his lap until your thighs were aching. 
“Mhm?” George’s eyes flicked between your face and his lap, watching you fuck yourself on him with his feet anchroed securely on the carpeted dining room floor. He had been waiting and dreaming for his homecoming all day, desperate for this exact moment. He knew all too well that you would never say no to him. You were equals but you were such a good wife. 
George pulled his thumb out of your mouth and slid his hand around the back of your neck to pull your forehead against his as he groaned into his orgasm. You squeezed your muscles tightly around him, making his face screw up in pleasure as his cock throbbed within the tight confines of your cunt and you finally were blessed with that first feeling of him spurting warmly inside you. You shuttered on top of him, grinding down strongly against his lap as you held each other close and met his timing almost perfectly. Your moans together were harmonious and perfect and your heart soared with adoration for him as your souls connected in the dim lighting of your shared home. 
“Fuck, darling-” George breathed out of it, holding you to his chest with his entire arms around your back, keeping you grinding against him as your orgasm tapered off. 
“Holy shit.” you whimpered quietly against his cheek, your fingers gripping tightly to the back of his shirt, your thighs trembling as you sat all your weight down on his lap to take the weight off your feet. 
His hands caressed your back and you moved to be able to meet his gaze as he asked cheekily, “So, how was your day?”
You giggled sweetly and leaned in to kiss his lips, “Amazing. Even more amazing now that you’re home.” 
“Missed you so much.” George admitted. 
“I can tell.” you smiled, scratching your fingers through the back of his hair. 
George tore his eyes away from your loving gaze so he could look towards the dining room table that was left in complete disarray from his rushed entry. He leaned forward slightly to rest his head against your shoulder and you kissed his head and ran your hand through his hair. 
“Sorry for, uh, ruining your dinner.” he whispered. 
“That’s okay. Worth it.” you assured him, “But you’re cleaning it up.”
“Okay.” he chuckled and raised his head from your shoulder to kiss your lips again. 
You took his face in your dainty hands, whispering between gentle chasté kisses, “I love you.”
George smiled peacefully, staring at your adoringly, “I love you.”
His lips peppered kisses down your jaw and your neck and his hands squeezed your ass to prompt you to get up. You moved cautiously as you stood from his lap, letting a thick drop of white slip out of you and onto his thigh and he leaned in to kiss your hip as his hands guided you off of him. 
“Any symptoms yet?” he asked gently as you bent down to grab your underwear and pull them on. 
“Don’t think so.” you answered with a shrug. 
“It’ll happen.” he almost promised. 
You stood between his legs and rested your forearms on his shoulders to lean in towards him, “Hopefully.” 
“It will.” his large hands caressed your thighs. 
You shared a soft kiss. 
George patted your bum, “Okay, go wash up. I’ll clean this mess and slice up that roast for us. Looks like it survived the chaos.” 
You kissed him once more and then slid out of his arms. Picking up your dress from the floor, you headed across the open living room and down the opposite hallway that turned towards the back of the house and led to your bedroom. You pulled out your nightgown from your dresser drawer and helped yourself to the pastel painted ensuite to freshen up, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. 
Once perfectly styled hair was falling out of its pins and your cheeks were flushed from more than just the light coat of foundation and blush that you had applied earlier that day. You felt giddy and warm and yet a tinge of anxiety lingered in the back of your mind as you turned to the side and ran a hand over the flat natural curve of your stomach. You had been trying for a baby for only four weeks but you were impatient for the next phase of your perfect life with your perfect husband and with every passing day, you only got more and more ansty. George promised it would happen when it happens but you were both so familiar with things coming so easily to the two of you that not having results instantaneously was almost tortuous. 
Returning to the main space of your single storey house, George was in the kitchen in only his underwear and half unbuttoned white dress shirt, tidying up the dishes and scraping the spilled food into the garbage. To anyone else, they might have been more than annoyed that their hard-work that went into making dinner had gone to unappreciated waste but it was never that serious to you. You lived to give George whatever he wanted and when all he truly wanted was you? Who were you to deny him that? 
You leaned against the counter that divided the kitchen from the rest of the space and watched George putter around for a moment before he saw you. He smiled over at you and then brought over the plate of sliced meat that he had taken from the table and cut up himself. Setting it between you, he picked up one of the pieces and fed it to you from his fingers. 
“Little cold now.” you chuckled softly. 
“Still good.” he complimented, taking a bite for himself. 
You stood on either side of the peninsula counter and shared the plate of your half-cold dinner, one of the candles from the table resting between you and still lit. Moments like that only rehashed the idea of your perfect imperfection that was you and him. 
“You look beautiful right now.”
You raised your eyes from the plate, slipping one more piece of meat into your mouth as you met his loving stare. 
With a bashful smile, you shrugged, and spoke through your small mouthful, “I’m just in my nightgown.” 
“I know.” George leaned over the counter and captured your lips with his in a swift kiss. 
You smiled against his mouth and raised a hand up to dust your fingertips over his jaw before you were gently pushing him away from your lips. He reached over to gently tug at your pouted bottom lip with the pad of his thumb before standing up straight again and kept your eye contact from across the counter. 
“I love you so much.” you whispered. 
“I love you more.” 
The faint crackling of the record player in the living room drew your attention across the open space of your modest house and George drifted around the counter and danced his hand over your waist on his way past you. You took another bite of your makeshift dinner and watched as he lifted the needle from the turntable to remove the record and slide it back into its case. Whistling happily in his half-dressed state, George skimmed your collection of records and pulled out a new one to place carefully on the turntable. 
The tune he kept was the same tune you had stuck in your head for a few days and you inquired, “My love, what song is that you’re whistling?” 
George glanced up at you from across the living room, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth seeing you in the light of the kitchen behind your figure, and he looked back down to the record that he spun between his hands and then set it into its place on the turntable, “I dunno, darling. I think it’s just some random song.” 
“I’ve had it stuck in my head for a while now.” you explained, leaning back against the counter. 
“Mhm?” George seemed to shrug you off as he set the needle back on the record and the speaker crackled as it found its way into the groove. 
The house was filled with gentle romantic music and he turned up the volume as the voice of the vocalist flooded the space around you. George’s whistling moulded into the tune of the song playing and he did a little spin as he slunk his way saucily across the floor towards you. He climbed the three carpeted steps of the sunken living room and serenaded you with his rhythmic sways and motions as he approached you. You laughed softly at his goofiness and he held out his hands to you as he whistled along to the music. 
When you didn’t make a move to join him for a few seconds - just staring at him while leaning back against the counter with an adoring smile on your face - he requested of you simply, “Dance with me.” 
You pushed yourself away from the counter and set your hands in his, letting him pull you close to his body as he slid an arm around your waist and let his other hand stay holding yours beside you. He was the most angelic man you had ever seen and you set your hand around his shoulder as he guided you into gentle sways along with the music. 
You closed your eyes and melted into his chest, cheek to cheek, falling heavenly into the comfort of his embrace and the way his body moved with yours. His pitch perfect voice spoke right to your heart as he hummed quietly as you danced slowly in place within your cozy home, swaying to the rhythm of the record. With you in your nightgown and George in his underwear and dress shirt, you were perfectly domestic in that moment, the warmth in your heart swirling around the two of you wrapped as one. 
“Someday soon we won’t be able to do this.” George whispered to you.
The ominous nature of his statement had you shifting your head to look him in the eye, “What? Why?”
George just smiled sweetly and rubbed his thumb over the small of your back, “Because there’s going to be a baby growing between us soon. We’ll have to be a good arm's length apart.” 
You grinned back at him bashfully and leaned into him again so his lips pressed against your cheek for a quick kiss and then his head rested against yours. He led your gentle swaying on the plush carpet in the warm glow of the fireplace and your cozy home, only growing the adoring flutter in your heart. 
“I can’t wait.” you breathed. 
“Me neither.” George gave your joint hands a little squeeze. 
“I love you.” you whispered. 
“I love you.” George found your lips with his, kissing away any of your anxieties surrounding the unknown future with his love that comforted you always. 
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The ringing of George’s alarm clock woke you at dawn, just like any other weekday. He was cuddled up behind you in your spacious bed, wrapping you up in the warmth of the sheets and his embrace. You sighed deeply as you were forced into consciousness and as you shifted to stretch in George’s arms, he pressed a kiss to your cheek. 
“Morning, darling.” he mumbled sleepily, his alarm still ringing from his side of the bed. 
“Morning, sunshine.” you yawned, earning another cheek kiss from your husband before he was shifting away from you to reach over and swat off the alarm. 
You rolled after him under the blankets and as he turned back around from shutting off his clock, you draped yourself across his bare chest to admire him happily in the faint morning light that peeked through the sides of your curtains. He stroked your hair and you tapped your index finger against his lips before you leaned in to kiss them softly. He smiled at you and met you halfway for another. 
“Did you sleep okay?” you asked quietly. 
“Yeah.” he lazily draped his arm around your back, “Did you?”
You nodded, still tired from your deep sleep you had just awoken from, and your gaze stayed focused on his familiar face. Reaching your hand up from his chest you caressed his cheek with your thumb and across his jaw that housed a faint dusting of hair that was in need of his daily morning shave. He moved his head slightly to press his lips against the pad of your thumb and you giggled adoringly and stretched your body out on top of his as if not wanting to let him get up. 
“Do you wanna stay in bed?” George asked. 
“With you?” you replied hopefully. 
“No.” he smiled sadly at you and stroked your hair again, “I gotta go to work and make some money for us and our future babies.” 
You bit back your smile but didn’t make a move to get off him, still staring lovingly at  his face.
“Okay?” he patted your bum over the blankets. 
You reached a hand up to gently scoop some sleep from the corner of his eye for him with your index finger and a soft melancholy hum and he scrunched his eyes closed and tried to turn away. You sighed dramatically and rested your chin on your hand against his chest to stare at him just a little longer before you would both have to get up. 
George’s finger traced the bridge of your nose and then plopped against your lips, tugging gently at the bottom one, whispering to you once more, “Okay?”
You nodded, breathing out a forced agreement, “Okay.”
You moved off of him and let him get out of bed and you watched from your cozy spot against the headboard as he trudged across the room and pushed open the curtains to let the tidal wave of early morning sun flood your four walls. Standing in the light in only his underwear, George was almost just a silhouette to you and as he stretched his arms above his head with a waking yawn and skimmed over your perfectly manicured backyard, you nearly swooned. As the man of your house, he made you weak by simply existing. How you adored him. 
Your eyes followed him as he walked across the bedroom towards the ensuite and, like every weekday morning, you let him get ready for his day without hassle. He naturally left the door open and you could see in the reflection of the mirror how he stripped out of his underwear into nothingness and then stepped into the shower, pulling the curtain shut behind him. The water turned on and then his whistle followed, waking himself up in warm water a good tune. 
Now alone in your shared bed, you stretched your arms over your head and forced your limbs to wake up, the slight comfortable tension on your muscles forcing the reminisce of your evening reunion to leak out of you and into your underwear. The sheets had fallen down to your waist from George climbing out of bed and you dropped your hands to rest on your stomach with an impatient sigh, staring down at your soft skin exposed to the morning sunlight. Sleeping bare beside him to allow your skin to touch completely was your favourite way to sleep as you so easily learned after you wed and moved into your perfect home together. He always felt so close that way. 
When your bare feet hit the carpeted floor and you rose from the mattress, you reached for his white button up dress shirt that he had worn the previous day and had discarded to the chair in the corner of the room. Keeping yourself modest within your empty house, you buttoned up the bottom three buttons, and then straightened out the creased fabric in the full length mirror. 
You stopped by the bathroom door, leaning against the frame as you called out to your showering husband, “Darling love; I’m going to start breakfast.”
“Okay, sweetheart, thank you.” George called back through the water and patterned shower curtain. 
Your bare feet patted softly down the picture frame lined hallway that was bathed in sunlight from the floor to ceiling windows opposite, and you turned into the main space of your house that had been silent from nightfall. You opened the curtains and turned on the radio to bring your house to life as you began the routine of your mornings. 
As usual, the weather was bright and clear and the sun had just barely made it above the horizon, meeting you outside in the backyard with refreshing crisp air and a wash of golden light, filtered only by the neighbouring houses and your clotheslines. The laundry that you had hung up the previous day was now perfectly dry and you unpinned one of the fresh white shirts that matched the one you were wearing and brought it back inside with you as the iron was heating up. The radio announcer spoke to the news of your uneventful town where the most interesting happenings consisted of shopping centre sales or the community pool being closed for cleaning. 
The ironing board was set up in the living room and you draped the clean shirt across it to be met with the steaming iron. The creases were steamed and ironed out of the fabric with ease and you found yourself humming that same mysterious tune as you worked, constantly stuck in your head. When the shirt was left neatly on the ironing board for retrieval by your husband, you continued on to the kitchen to put his lunch together and get breakfast started, letting the radio’s news mould into morning hits that livened your home with music. 
George joined you in the kitchen a few minutes later, lured from the bedroom by the smell of bacon and coffee in only his dress slacks and socks with his tie draped around his bare neck, his face shaved, and his brown hair already combed and gelled to perfection. At the sight of you in the kitchen in only his shirt and your little panties, George was grinning slyly and walking over to you at the stove. He wrapped his arms around your waist and dipped his face in your neck to kiss your skin. 
“Mm, good morning, beautiful woman.” he said lowly against the shell of your ear, the smoothness of his voice enough to butter your toast that morning. 
“Good morning, handsome.” you replied sweetly, setting your free hand that wasn’t holding a spatula against his around your middle as you leaned back into him to welcome his lips on yours in a few lingering kisses. When he broke your kisses, your eyes shamelessly skimmed his face and chest and you reached your hand up to touch his smooth jaw, “Mm, you look so yummy.”
“Says you in this little outfit, baby, goddamn.” George tisked, giving your ass a little two handed squeeze that made you squeak in surprise and he kissed your neck again. 
“You’re an easy man to please, my dearest.” you said as he drifted away from you across the space to retrieve his shirt from the ironing board. 
“You make it easy.” he praised right back as he shrugged on his shirt and buttoned it up on his way back towards you.
He paused as he tucked the shirt into his pants and then stopped to open the front door and grab the newspaper from the porch. 
“Coffee’s in your mug already.” you told him as he shut the door again.
Returning to the kitchen with the promise of coffee, already skimming the headlines, he answered you haphazardly, “You’re a perfect woman, baby.”
“Perfect for you, George Russell, and don’t you forget it.” you waved the spatula at him from across the kitchen and he smiled over at you as he lifted his steaming mug of coffee up to his lips for a sip. 
He stood at the island with the newspaper laid out before him and he skimmed the stories and articles as he tied his tie around his neck and set his collar down neatly and flipped through the pages as he sipped his morning coffee. You cracked farm fresh eggs into the skillet beside the bacon, watching how the grease sizzled and crackled as breakfast cooked, filling the kitchen with aromas that made your stomach growl. As the pan was left cooking, you tended to the toast in the toaster that had just popped and you placed the perfectly browned slices on a plate. 
“What is your plan today, darling?” George asked you, his eyes following you as he sipped his coffee and left the newspaper open in front of him. 
“The girls and I are going to go shopping.” you answered casually as you buttered each slice of toast. “I’m thinking my wardrobe needs a bit of a refresher but I already have a dress in mind for tonight that I haven’t had a chance to wear yet so I won’t need to buy anything new for that today. I had my eye on this set that was in the window of the department store this week - these gorgeous blue shorts and a matching blouse.”
“Blue is your colour, baby.” 
“Is that why your eyes never leave me?” you flirted smoothly.
Said blue eyes - the very ones you fell in love with - winked at you over the brim of the coffee mug. You smiled widely and cut the slices of toast in halves diagonally before delivering them to where George stood at the island. 
“Make sure anything you buy is put on my card.” he reminded you. 
“I know, I know. That’s all they allow us to do anyway.” you tisked and returned to the stove. “I must say, every time one of the employees greets me with a ‘good morning, Mrs. Russell’ or a ‘is that all for today, Mrs. Russell’ I swear my heart skips a beat.” 
George chuckled lightly at your swooning over your shared name as he took a bite of toast and then spoke through it, “It’s been a good few months now, sweetheart. Still not used to it?”
“I’m used to it.” you assured him. “I just love it.” 
He just smiled down to the newspaper. 
“I might attend a ballet class this afternoon too.” 
“Oh?” George looked over at you again, “Does that mean I get to see you in a leotard and a little tutu?”
You rolled your eyes at him teasingly as you plated the bacon and eggs from the pan, “Don’t push your luck, mister.” 
He leaned in towards you as you joined him at the island with your two plates, promising with a quiet, “I’ll be good.”
“You’re always good.” you whispered right back, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before setting the plates in front of you both. 
You ate breakfast together over the newspaper and distant noise of the radio, feeding each other bites of bacon and toast and trying not to spill egg on his perfectly crisp clothes. Soon it was time for him to leave for the day and he grabbed his lunch tin that you had set earlier on the counter peninsula and you hurried over to get between him and the door. 
“Wait,” you set your hands on his chest as he nearly walked right into you, “I forgot to tell you-”
“Mhm?” George encouraged you on with a little amused smile, already knowing what was coming after this almost daily routine…only made more insistent on the mornings that came after an evening with perfect heavenly love making. 
“You can’t go to work.” you told him, even as he started walking slowly towards the door, forcing you to take slow steps back in time with him. 
“Why not?” he pressed, his lips grazing yours with how close you stood. 
“You don’t feel well, remember?” you slid your hands over his shoulders. 
“Oh, I don’t?” 
“No.” you licked away your smile as he had you in the foyer now, “And you need to stay home so I can cuddle you and kiss you and tend to you and nurse you back to health.”
“Oh, I see.” George blindly lifted his jacket from the hook by the door, all without tearing his eyes away from yours, “And your shopping plans?”
“Canceled for you, my love.” you answered easily, sliding your arms around his waist as he pulled his jacket on and you leaned in to kiss his smiling lips. “So we should get you into bed.”
“We should?” George had you against the front door and you stood guard in front of it to prevent him from leaving. 
“Yes.” you smiled sweetly at him with your lightly frazzled hair and wrinkled shirt of his you wore. 
It would have been so easy for him to fall into your little trap and stay home with you all day - it was near impossible for him to say no to you and especially so when you looked like a golden angel in the sunlight that bathed the house. Instead, he reached a hand up and caressed your cheek and then leaned in to kiss your lips once, twice, and then lingered there for a third before pulling away. 
“I got to go, darling.”
Pouted in lighthearted defeat, you slunk out of his way so he could open the front door and you followed after him onto the porch, stopping him by the arm for one more kiss. 
“I love you.” you said. 
“I love you.” he smiled back, his eyes glancing up and down your figure and once more across your face as if memorizing you completely, “See you tonight.”
“See you.” you let your hand fall from his arm and you watched him walk down the front porch steps and around to the drivers side of his shiny car. 
The other men on your little street were also saying their goodbyes to their wives and getting into their cars like clockwork but your attention was only on your husband and the way he checked his hair in the rearview mirror before sliding his sunglasses on. He caught your gaze once more and blew you a kiss before turning the key in the ignition. 
With the rumble of the engine, you took one more step down the front porch in only his white buttoned shirt and blew him a kiss back, letting your hand stay outstretched in a gentle wave as he backed out of the driveway alongside the other men. Then, like a little parade, they made their way down the street in a single file row and out of sight. 
Sitting around in the comfy chairs of the classy department store, you and your friends sipped champagne and discussed your mornings and the ballet class you had just returned from. 
“It was more of a workout than I had thought!” one of the ladies expressed. 
“Such beautiful dancing though. Do you think they’ll have us perform a show by the end of the season? I would love to be able to show my husband all that we do!” 
“Oh, that would be so nice!”
“We should put in a request.” 
“My husband does not so much as care about what I do, I must admit.”
“Being one of the most important men in business, it’s fair to say he’s tired when he gets home every night.”
“Yes, but I wouldn’t mind some attention from him.”
As your friends gossiped about their husbands and their home lives, you set your drink flute on the glass coffee table and stood from your chair to browse a few of the near-by racks. In a blue floral dress that swayed around your knees with every step, you held that soft tune on your lips as you gently swiped through each clothing option with the tags labeled without prices. The women never had to bother with money, it was just one way that life was made less stressful in your little picturesque neighbourhood. 
One of the ladies spoke a little louder so you could hear, “All of us seem to have things we wish to improve in our marriages and then there are the Russells who could not be any more perfect if they tried.” 
With a skirt in hand that you were admiring, you glanced over to your friends who all had knowing looks directed your way. You smiled and shook your head, “I wouldn’t call us perfect. No one is perfect.” 
“Oh, but you’re pretty close.” one of the ladies said before turning to the rest of the group, “You won’t believe the things I hear from even the next house over. It’s like their honeymoon phase lasts for months.” 
“Okay.” you laughed to try and brush her off as you set the skirt back on the rack beside you.
Another one of your friends added smoothly, “You won’t be fitting in these dresses much longer by the sounds of it then.”
The first friend only continued, “I know! If you two aren’t pregnant soon I think there must be something wrong with the universe.”
The rest of your small group agreed easily. 
“Yeah.” you added, “We’ve only been actively trying for a few weeks but-”
“More like six months by what we hear next door.”
“Okay.” you hushed her with a bashful blushing smile and you turned back to the rack to skim through some more clothes. You tried not to let their innocent excitement for you get under your skin but you were anxious and impatient and wanting a baby more than anything. It hadn’t been very long but when it was the thing you prayed for most in the world, each passing hour felt like a lifetime. 
You tried on the outfit you had been eyeing in the change room - that blue full skirt and matching blouse - and although it fit you like it was tailored for you, you silently wished it didn’t fit. You craved the growth of life inside you and it never seemed to leave the forefront of your mind. 
Regardless, you let your anxieties out with some retail therapy as you set your blue outfit on the cash desk along with a few more casual dresses and shoes. The man behind the counter rung up your items and folded them into tissue paper and set them in a box with a neat little bow. 
“Will that be everything today, Mrs. Russell?” he asked routinely. 
You glanced across the counter to him, “Yes, thank you.” 
“Wonderful. I will charge it to your husband’s account.” he held out the box to you, “We hope to see you again soon. I couldn’t help but overhear that it may be in our maternity department?”
You offered a polite smile and thanked him quietly as you took your box and returned to your friends who were getting ready to leave with their own purchases. Upon joining up with your little group again, you all emerged out into the sunny afternoon to make your way towards the trolley, discussing your evening in terms of your planned outfits for the neighbourhood dinner that was to be hosted at the lavish event hall in town. Your friends spoke excitedly about the dressed they had picked out and their hopes that their husbands would match their excitement at least partially. It was always nice to have a night off when you didn’t need to have dinner ready for the men’s homecoming - or so your friends touched upon. To you, everyday meant simply looking forward to George being home, regardless of what you had prepared or not. You liked to tend to him and you did so gladly. 
That day, however, you felt drained. Your physical body seemed to be taking after your emotional state in that sense and by the time the trolley stopped at the end of your street and let you off and you shared quick ‘see you tonight’s with your friends as you parted ways onto your own properties, you were ready to sit down. 
The house felt so quiet and empty when you were there alone and although it never usually bothered you, this afternoon only raised that looming loneliness that had been festering inside you. Trying to calm yourself down, you hummed that same gentle tune that had been stuck in your head and walked slowly down your hallway and into your master bedroom. After your morning tidy, the bed had been already made and any laundry was put away in the hamper, leaving a spotless room for you to set your shopping box down on the pulled tight sheets. With a hum on your lips, you helped yourself to the ensuite and ran a bath in the teal porcelain alcove tub, your gaze drifting over the alarm clock on the bedside table as the water filled and you stripped out of your dress and heels. George was expected home in just over an hour and you would have to be ready for him then so all he had to do was put on his formal jacket and dress shoes and you could be out the door and on your way to the party right away. 
The steaming bath water forced a sigh from your chest as you lowered into it and relaxed back against the edge. Your eyes closed peacefully and you rested your head back against the wall to give yourself a moment to ease your tensions that seemed to riddle your body that week, your hair still tied half-up with a ribbon that matched your day dress. In a few moments you would have to get up but you breathed yourself into relaxation to make the most of your quiet day. 
You were woken to a gentle touch to your shoulder and your eyes flew open with a surprised gasp, the barely-warm water sloshing around your body as you startled. George was sitting on the edge of the tub still in his work clothes, his expression a mix between surprise and love, and he caressed your cheek with his thumb. 
“I was worried where you were when you didn’t meet me at the door.” he chuckled softly. 
“Shit, what time is it?” you asked worriedly, your features expressing your unrest easily. 
“Just after 5:00.” George answered. 
“Oh my- I’m sorry- I was supposed to be ready to go-“ you started to get up but he set a gentle hand on your shoulder to keep you in the water a little longer. 
“It’s okay, darling. There’s no rush. We still have a whole hour.” 
George dipped down to kiss your lips and your stress lines melted into a tender smile at his touch and you leaned up from the tub to kiss him again gladly. When you sat back again, he just stared at you for a few long seconds, a calm smile on his face. The intensity of his blue eyed stare always had you needing to look away and you smiled shyly down to the bath water. 
George broke your silence with a soft, “You look gorgeous.” 
You leaned your head back against the wall again so you could look at him, admitting quietly, “I missed you today.” 
“I missed you too.” George stroked your hair before he was getting up from the wide of the tub, “I bought you something on my way home.” 
Your attention was peaked, watching him walk hurriedly out of the ensuite and out into your bedroom, “You did?”
He came back in with a garment bag and a beaming grin and he unzipped it to reveal a royal blue evening dress with a straight neckline, short dainty sleeves, and a matching bow around the waist. You bit back your smitten grin at the excitement of your selfless husband and you leaned your arms on the edge of the tub to admire the stunning new dress, careful to not touch it with your wet hands. 
“Sweetheart,” you breathed adoringly, “It’s beautiful.”
“Couldn’t stop thinking of you in it…I just had to stop and pick it up for you. You’re gonna look beautiful tonight.” George gushed as he hung the hanger up on the shower curtain rod. He started to untie his tie from around his neck as he talked on, “And I even grabbed myself a matching tie from the store while I was there just so we can match tonight. I know you always like that even if you might not always admit it.” 
You rested your cheek down against your folded arms on the tub edge and admired him shamelessly as he stepped back into the bedroom again only to return to the bathroom mirror with a royal blue tie that matched the colour of your new dress perfectly. He draped it around his neck and popped his collar so he could tie it as he spoke to you. 
“Come on, darling, come get ready.” 
You always loved going out with him and especially having any excuse to dress up but the whirling of your mind was distracting and you caught yourself suddenly swallowing back tears. You dropped your face into the crook of your arm and let out a shaky exhale to try and regain your composure. 
“Hey,” George’s gentle voice got closer and soon he was crouching beside the tub, reaching out a loving hand to caress your damp shoulder, “what’s wrong, my love?”
You sniffled and raised your head up again to meet his concerned gaze and you shrugged, mouthing a silent and passive, “I dunno.”
“Mm mm.” George shook his head gently, “Don’t do that. Don’t push me away. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I want a baby.” you whispered. 
“I know.” George let out a faint chuckle at your obvious confession but his expression stayed serious as he took in your obviously distressed state. His hand stroked over your head and into the damp ends of your hair that had grazed the water in your bath.
“I want one now.” you continued quietly. 
“I know. That’s why we’re working so hard.” he nudged your cheek teasingly with his knuckle.
You barely offered him a smile, “I’m scared it won’t happen.”
His eyebrows furrowed, “Why’s that?” 
You shrugged, “Because if it hasn’t happened yet then what if it never will?”
“Oh, sweetheart.” George tisked and gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “It’s still early…it’s been barely a month-”
“But we weren’t even really being safe before that. How did it not already accidentally happen?”
“I dunno.” he chuckled, “But that’s okay. I am in no rush. We have our whole lives together and it’s only been a little while of trying and I’m not giving up yet. I’m not giving up on us or our babies, okay?”
You sniffled and nodded. 
“So don’t worry, darling. Don’t stress yourself out over this because you’re just going to make yourself crazy with worry.”
“I want to give you a family.” you mumbled sadly. 
“You are my family.” George promised and leaned in to kiss your temple. “You’re all I need to be happy.”
“I love you.” you whispered, turning your head slightly to urge his lips on yours in a sweet kiss. 
“I love you.” he kissed you once more before he was standing up and offering out his hands to you, “Now let’s get you out of this bathtub and into that dress so you can be the most breathtaking woman at the party.” 
The event hall was located near the centre of town and was decorated lavishly for the evening party that was to be hosted there. George parked on the street and even at the slight distance you were from the venue, the lights and music still made their way down the sidewalk and lured you in eagerly. With your hair curled and pinned to perfection and in your brand new gown purchased by the hands of your husband, you already felt like a million bucks, only eased more by the reassurance that he offered you only an hour earlier. He was truly all you needed and anything more was just a perfect treat. 
Your hand rested daintily in the crook of his elbow as he led you both into the loud and boisterous hall and right away, other partygoers were greeting you over the music and noise. Butlers passed by with platters of horderves and George snagged you both a small serving each on the way to your table. Right up near the front, your reserved table was awaiting you, and a few of your friends were already there and in their seats, mingling and drinking. 
At the sight of you, your friends had plenty to say about your matching dress and tie and the way you just looked so perfect together. Friendly cheek kisses were shared by the ladies and the men exchanged handshakes and everyone was arranging themselves in their seats that were labeled with golden calligraphy name tags. George pulled out your chair for you and helped you take your seat in your spot before he was leaning down with his hands on your shoulders to let you know he was going to the bar to order some drinks. You reached up one hand to pat over his in acknowledgement and he leaned down to kiss your cheek before disappearing through the crowd with a few of the husbands. 
“Oh he is enamoured by you.” one of your friends gushed from across the table. 
“And this dress is stunning!” another reached over to touch your sleeve. 
“He picked it out.” you admitted - only slightly bragging, “Came home with it today and said he needed to buy it for me because he kept picturing me in it.” 
The girls swooned over that, lighthearted jealousy filling the air. 
“You two are too cute.” another one of the women said, “It’s a known fact that the Russells are all too perfect.”
“Yep. Makes me sick!” another joked. 
The one on your right nudged your arm gently, leaning in to say quietly while still being heard over the band playing, “Did you hear that your husband might be getting a promotion tonight?” 
Your eyes widened, “No. I didn’t hear that. Is it true?”
She nodded, “My husband heard at work. Apparently George has been doing an excellent job…he’s so dedicated, y’know? The mayor is so impressed.” 
“It’s a surprise?” you questioned. 
“Think so. But I don’t even know if it’s 100% true so don’t go saying anything anyway. I know you two have no secrets between you and all.”
You pretended to lock your lips with your fingers and throw away the imaginative key and you shared quiet giggles. 
The men returned shortly after and George set your drink down on the table in front of you before he was unbuttoning his tuxedo jacket and then sitting down beside you with his own drink. His hand rested on the back of your chair while his eyes took in the party around you from the crowded tables of neighbours to the impressive height of the floral centerpieces on each, sipping his drink calmly. You set your hand on his thigh as you took to your own drink, naturally keeping him within arms reach at all times even if the attention was on the conversation at your table. 
It wasn’t long before the performers were introduced to the crowd and the stage was filled with female dancers, their costumes not leaving much to the imagination other than streaks of glitter and sparkle covering them scandalously. The music guided them and the men cheered loudly as the women watched politely, you among them. But George wasn’t looking at the stage. Instead, his head was turned away from the show just so he could stare at you instead. 
Cluelessly, you sipped your drink and watched the show, unknowing to the way his attention was focused all on you. A calm smile rested on his lips and his eyes took in every inch of your face as you sat at his side so effortlessly. When his hand dropped to your lap and he gave your knee a squeeze, you finally looked at him, eyes wide in surprise at seeing him already staring at you. 
George leaned in towards you and you met him halfway so he could whisper against your ear behind the loud show music playing through the spacious room, “Wanna come get some air with me?”
You smiled innocently at him and set your drink back on the table as your silent agreement. 
He got up first from his chair and took your hand to guide you after him, moving smoothly away from your table without wanting to interrupt the show. Your friends only shared knowing glances among themselves at the sight of the two of you sneaking off. You didn’t necessarily know you were that predictable to outsiders. 
The music from the ballroom muffled as you emerged into the hallway and let the double doors close behind you, having a moment alone in peace of just the two of you. George spun you under his arm and then pulled you right up against his body, sliding his arm around your waist lovingly as his lips found yours with ease. You raised your hands up to the side of his neck to hold him there, gladly letting him kiss you deeply within the rush of escaping the crowded party. 
George pulled away from your lips only to whisper honestly to you, “You really are the most beautiful woman here tonight.”
You caressed his smooth jaw with your thumbs, “All thanks to this dress you picked out.”
“Your beauty requires no thanks to me.” he corrected smoothly, taking your hands from his face to hold in his own and he started to walk backwards to pull you after him towards the washrooms. 
You walked after him giddily, only pulling your hands from his grasp and falling against his chest with your arms around his shoulders as he backed into the empty women’s washroom. In the formal setting of the ballroom, the washroom was designed just as lavishly and the mirror framed lounge with a central circular sofa welcomed you warmly. Your lips found his again and he blindly locked the door behind you before spinning you both around and leading you farther into the elegant room. 
You could never get enough of his lips and even as he licked his way into your mouth, you were still pulling at the back of his neck to feel him closer, moaning softly into his kiss. George’s hands slid down your body and over your hips and ass and his dress shoes scuffed over the marble floor as he guided you towards the small make-up counter across the room. Often used for ladies to excuse themselves from the party to freshen up their lipstick or blush at the built-in vanity, it was now taken as a place for George to press you up against in the most erotic way, sending your heart in your throat and between your legs in eager anticipation. Only the simplest of touches from your husband sent you spiralling. 
“Oh my God.” you breathed into his mouth as your kiss broke for him to focus on shuffling up your voluminous skirt. 
Both already breathing heavily, your mouths were open in lust as lips brushed tauntingly and you shared air together. Your hands held onto his biceps over the expensive material of his tuxedo jacket and his warm hands snapped the waistband of your lacey panties against your waist. You giggled and he lowered to a crouch in front of you, holding up your skirt in one hand as his other started to pull down your underwear and his lips trailed after them in slow open-mouthed kisses across your skin. His gelled hair wasn’t easy to get your hand in without ruining it completely so you settled for resting your hands on the cold vanity countertop that you were resting back against the edge of. 
George stood back up and in one smooth motion, his lips were capturing yours in a filthy kiss. You let one arm toss around his shoulders as you kissed him back hungrily, pulling hearty moans from his throat at the way you melted into each other and he shoved your underwear in his pants pocket. His hand took its place under your skirt and pressed right down against your clit, making your next breath shutter. 
“Fuck-”
George swallowed up your words with his mouth, tasting the way you swore at his touch, locking his pillowy lips with yours perfectly. He stroked your clit lazily with his fingertips and soon had you trying to grind against his hand as he stood between your legs and was nearly leaning into you over the vanity. 
You tilted your head back to break your kiss with a exhale, “George-”
Breathing in time with each other into each other’s mouths, you held him close around his shoulders as he made you wet with ease; like he knew your body like the back of his hand. His lustful eyes were on yours, unwavering, glimmering in the warm light of the circular mirrored room you found yourselves in, companion only to the muffled music from the party across the hall. 
His fingers moved a little faster against your clit and his attention was focused all on your face as he watched the way your expression changed for him, your nose scrunching up in pleasure and your eyebrows furrowing slightly with the moan that reverberated in your chest. He stopped suddenly, forcing a gasp from you, and his fingers slowed right down to rub over your pussy instead, smearing around the sweet wetness that pooled out of you by his very own touch. 
“Fuck, you get wet for me so easy, my good girl.” he praised into your mouth, his body pressed right up against yours. 
“I’m yours.” you promised him. 
“Uh huh?” he swirled his fingers around your clit again, taunting you, “Do you want me to put a baby in you, darling?”
“Fuck, yes please.” you rushed out. 
“Want me to make you a mommy? Say it.” 
“Please put a baby in me, George.” you pleaded, tugging at his tie to try and pull his lips on yours again, your legs spreading wider to urge his touch where you craved him. “Let me make you a daddy.”
“God damn, you’re so perfect.” George groaned, rubbing messily at your clit again. 
A pleasurable shriek fell from your throat and your head tossed back blissfully, welcoming his lips to your neck in feverish kisses that he moved right up under your ear to make you shiver. His fingers created the perfect friction against your aching clit and you ground against his touch, desperate for more. You always wanted more. 
“Baby, please.” you breathed to the ceiling, “Please fuck me. Please cum inside me. I need you so fucking bad.” 
George pulled his hand out from under your skirt so he could shove off his black jacket and he tossed it behind him to hopefully land on the couch in the middle of the room. Neither of you cared enough to watch where it went because then he was unbuckling his belt and you were shuffling up your skirt some more and draping your hair over one shoulder as the heat was already rushing over your body. You didn’t separate for long and even still he stood so close to you at the counter that you could breathe into each other’s mouths, eyes locked, hearts beating as one. 
He grabbed your thighs and hoisted you up onto the edge of the counter as your hands pulled his lips back on yours for more kisses. George’s grip on your hips pulled you closer to him and the feeling of his fingers pressing into your hips had your body arching into him hungrily. You reached down to wrap your gentle hand around his dick and gave it a few impatient strokes, feeling how it only stiffened up more at your touch. It felt like you were in a rush, driven by lust and desire, and George nudged your legs open wider so he could step right up to the vanity, at the perfect height to let the head of his cock nudge against your sensitive clit. 
“Don’t tease me, you asshole.” you giggled breathily, earning a soft laugh from your husband as he kissed the corner of your mouth. You held onto his biceps as he carefully fed his thick cock into your leaking cunt, sheathing so snugly inside you that both of your mouths fell open in unison, eyes locking. 
“Fuck, you feel so good.” George whispered against your lips, sliding a hand around the small of your back to urge you a little closer to the edge so he could get as deep as possible. 
“Oh my God.” you exhaled shakily, wrapping your legs around his waist to keep him close and your arms slung around his shoulders to pull his lips on yours. “Oh my God.”
You shared deep sloppy kisses as he started to thrust into you slowly and your moan against his lips had his eyebrows furrowing in filthy bliss. He broke your kiss for a moment to look at your face before dropping his gaze down between you, lifting up the hem of his dress shirt out of the way even if your skirt was still covering most of it. You tilted his head back up to look at you desperately, wanting to find the love in his eyes, and he thrusted into you a little faster as your gaze sent him spinning. 
You breathed in time together, wrapped up together on the vanity counter, and as George’s feet stayed planted securely shoulder width apart in his dress shoes against the polished marble floor, he had the ability to take you as he wanted you right then and there. His lips pressed to your jaw in fleeting kisses as he held your body close and fucked you faster, desperate to feel more of you. 
Your head fell back with a moan and he helped himself to your neck, holding you in place on the edge of the counter. As the seconds passed, he only got more desperate, thrusting into you faster, harder, holding your body against his in that gorgeous blue dress he bought for you. 
“George-“ you cried out softly, clinging onto him, spreading your legs wider for him so he could get deeper. Your manicured fingernails grasped the back of his dress shirt around his waist, crumpling the once perfectly ironed material in your fist as your heels dropped from your feet one and then the other, landing on the marble floor with a sharp thud. 
“Good girl.” George praised against your cheek, his large hands caressing your thighs and your back as he held you close to his body. 
Your eyes were focused over his shoulder to the wall opposite you, hung up on the reflections that the mirror-framed room offered you of all angles. It was possessive to watch like that, how your arms and legs were wrapped around him completely, fingers of one hand drifting into the back of his brown hair as his warm breath was panted against your neck in time with his quick thrusts. It made you salivate with desire for the man you loved more than life itself. 
“Oh my God-“ you moaned out for him, dizzy on the sound of his skin clapping filthily with yours as the luxurious bathroom muted the distant sounds of the loud party music through the ballroom. Your hand tightened in his hair as he fucked the whimpers out of you, igniting warmth over your skin. “Just like that, baby, please-“
“Wanna cum for me?” George asked lowly against your cheek. 
“Yes, please.” you huffed out shakily. “Please make me cum.” 
“Yeah?” George grabbed your thighs to spread you a little wider, making you hold your legs open by linking them over his forearms as his hands took your hips to hold you in place. 
Your pleading hands pulled his lips on yours by the back of his head, sharing filthy tongue led kisses between your pants and moans together as he drew you both closer. Both of you were completely ignorant to the muffled speech going on back in the ballroom, too hung up on each other. Tossing your head back with an overwhelmed moan to the ceiling, your hands dropped behind you to the countertop and your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. 
The skirt of your dress bunched around your middle and his hands were buried underneath it to hold you by the waist at the edge of the vanity, fucking you deliciously until that warmth was tightening in the pit of your stomach. Eyebrows furrowed as you stared at him lustfully, you basked in the pleasure he brought to you so easily, giving him the sweetest moans that helped him closer to the conclusion you needed from him. 
“Cum inside me.” you whispered to him longingly. 
George stared back at you strongly, thrusting into you steadily as he taunted you with words that sent you whirling, “Want me to put a baby in you, darling? Cum so fucking deep inside you until you’re completely knocked up?”
“Fuck me.” you groaned through your teeth, your voice wavering, “Please, George. Please knock me up. Please give me your babies. Please, please, please-“
“Uh huh-“ he spoke over your soft begging, holding you by your waist as close as he could so he could hit as deep as possible, making your toes curl in midair. 
You tugged the skirt of your dress up and got your fingers on your swollen clit to rub quickly at that spot, desperate for those incredible waves of pleasure that came to you only alongside your darling husband. Your head fell back with a gasping groan, your pussy squeezing down around him snugly as your orgasm approached quickly and you mouthed his name to the mirrored room in a whisper. 
So many reflections to watch your sneaky rendezvous but George was only staring at the real you right in front of him, watching how you succumbed to the pleasure he brought you, “Let go for me, darling. Take the fucking cum out of me. Take it.”
Your fingers rubbed quickly at your clit, pulling the air from your lungs as your body gave itself to him completely, pushed over the edge by the way he thrusted into you so perfectly. You tensed up around him and he groaned lowly between you as the pulsing flutters of your pussy radiated bursts of pleasurable sensations up his spine. You came for him with a cry of his name, your eyes staring back at his handsome face as your expression wavered with overwhelm. 
George only fucked you faster, desperately chasing that sweet conclusion that would bring you both closer together. You slung your arms around his shoulders as you shuttered against his body with the intense pleasure that radiated over every inch of you. He shifted to get your legs back around your waist and he held you as close as possible as he thrusted into you sloppily. 
“Hold onto me.” he whispered strongly, urging your hands to cling onto the back of his shirt to keep you together as close as possible. Your ankles linked together behind his waist and your heels pressed into the flesh of his bum to keep him nice and deep as his breathing grew shallower. 
He was coming seconds later, nearly slumping into you as your arms held each other close and he forced himself as deep as he could get inside you. His moans were beautiful and you breathed him into your senses greedily as he was all yours. You took every drop he gave you, grinding against his body to pull more out of him with how badly you wanted it, whispering little breathy yeses against his cheek in time with his final few precise thrusts. 
“Oh my God.” you breathed. 
“Mm.” George dusted a fleeting kiss to your neck as he stood up straight again. 
You held onto his biceps as he pushed up the hem of your dress to allow you both to watch him pull out slowly. His dick was slick in the mixture of both of your love and he was softening slowly in the warm air of the ballroom bathroom. He grabbed your thighs to spread your legs nice and wide and you leaned back on your hands with a sultry little smile as he stared down at your pussy and licked his lips at the sight of the thick white cream dripping back out. 
“Keep it in there.” he ordered quietly. “Keep your legs up for a bit.” 
“Mhm.” you rested back against the vanity mirror and kept your legs up, clenching your muscles tightly to keep everything in for as long as he wanted you to. 
George leaned in to kiss your lips a few times, bringing a loving smile to your face at his obvious adoration that was even more apparent in the way he looked at you when you separated. 
“I love you.” he whispered. 
“I love you so much.” you replied quietly. 
He drifted away from you to tuck himself back into his slacks and he buckled his pants up again and you watched him redress peacefully, always one to linger on the domesticity of it all. George retrieved his jacket from where he had tossed it onto the centre sofa and he shrugged it back on and buttoned the two buttons once more. 
Staring at him from your spot atop the vanity, you felt your heart swell with undeniable love for him, tears brimming in your eyes with the overwhelming concept that he was yours for life and that you were aiming to make a family together. He was all you wanted, even if you wanted more of him. 
Dedicated to the growth of your family, you let your legs ache as you kept them raised and spread, willing to do anything for the cause. George stopped by one of the mirrored walls of the circular room and let that same tune play on his lips as he tended to his hair and made sure it was gelled back down and away from his face, no remnants of your fingers in it. He then returned to you and situated himself between your legs, sliding his hands up your skirt that hid you modestly and he caressed your warm skin. 
“How are you feeling?” he asked quietly. 
“Little dizzy.” you admitted, your head resting back against the mirror, “But I’m so good.” 
“Dizzy?”
“Mhm. You made me cum really hard.” you giggled. 
George smiled, his momentary concern melting into a cheeky grin, and he leaned in to kiss your lips. You shared whispered ‘I love you’s before he was helping you to lower your legs and guide you off the counter. On wobbly legs, you held onto his forearms and took a second to steady yourself until you were able to stand straight on your own. George pressed a kiss to your temple and then pulled your underwear from his pocket for you to put back on. You held onto him as you carefully pulled them up your legs under your dress and then slid on each of your heels one at a time.  
“Okay?” he asked. 
You smiled at him and nodded, blinking away the slight dizziness that lingered. You had a party to return to after all. 
When you returned to the ballroom hand in hand, the mayor was on the stage with the microphone in hand, addressing the crowd. It was otherwise quiet as if they were missing something but almost the exact moment you walked through the doors, the spotlight was on you. You raised a hand up to shield your eyes from the bright white light and George guided you slowly back towards your table as the mayor called you out by name. 
“There they are! The Russells have made their return!”
Blushing furiously with the entire town’s attention on you, you clung tighter onto George’s hand and followed close beside him to your table. 
On the stage, the mayor wasn’t done, “I have to admit that I am quite proud of these two’s dedication to helping our community to grow into the next generation. I’m sure it won’t be long until we can welcome another child into our perfect little paradise, isn’t that right?”
The crowd cheered loudly with applause and you nearly felt faint, the spotlight following you through the crowd. George’s hand rested on the small of your back as he helped you onto your chair again. 
The mayor continued, speaking into the microphone as his other hand gestured out towards the two of you, “In your absence, George, you missed my most important announcement of the night.” 
George offered him a tight smile as he sat back down beside you with a polite, “Awfully sorry about that, Frank.”
“No, no.” the mayor assured him, “I understand that you take your job as man of the house just as seriously as you take your job with us here.” 
Your dizziness was only growing into a sweat at your brow and you dabbed your napkin from your place setting gently at your temples to try and tame your rising temperature. Maybe it was the warm spotlight, you assumed, or the attention of the entire neighbourhood being focused on you that made you nervous but you really weren’t feeling too well. 
George was looking up to the nearby stage as the mayor addressed him directly, meaning his back was almost completely towards you. You set a clammy hand on his shoulder. 
The mayor continued, “Which is exactly why I wanted to bring up your dedication to your service to us and your ability to live with the morals and values of our dear community at the forefront of your mind.” 
You leaned towards George’s shoulder, whispering shakily to him, “Baby, I don’t feel too well.” 
He glanced at you briefly before the mayor drew his attention with a call of his name. 
“George Russell,”
Your forehead slumped against his shoulder blade, “I wanna go home.”
George shifted to let you lean on his shoulder and your arm naturally wrapped pleadingly around his, warmed by the blinding light of the spotlight. 
The mayor was unphased by your obvious distress as he continued addressing your husband directly, “it is with great pride that I would like to offer you a position with some of us in headquarters. It will come with more responsibility but I’m sure the pay increase will be beneficial when it comes to any little additions to your family.”
George’s attention was torn between this surprise news of an offered promotion and the way that you were nearly limp against his shoulder. His arm wrapped around you protectively but his gaze was still politely focused on the stage. 
“I really want to go home.” you repeated shakily to him. 
Your friends were oblivious, too excited about the proper announcement that was now given to the man it was directed towards under the blinding lights of the decorated ballroom. You felt faint. 
“What do you say, George?” the mayor asked loudly, his voice booming across the spacious ballroom. “Will you live up to the kind of man we know you can be?”
“George.” you whispered pleadingly, too out of it to even really know what was going on. “Please, can we go?” 
George glanced at you briefly before looking back up to the stage and the expectant faces of his co-workers and mayor. He nodded to him quickly, “Yes, thank you. I would love to accept the offer.” 
The crowd broke into applause and with the chaos that it brought, George turned to you quickly and grabbed your purse from the table before standing up. 
“Come on, let’s get you home.” 
He helped you out of your chair as the spotlight drifted elsewhere across the bustling party and your friends gave you odd stares at your sudden change and out-of-character distress. George, riddled with worry, wrapped his arm around your waist protectively and led you towards the exit doors of the ballroom, the cheers of the crowd echoing in your ears and you clamped your hands over them to block out the noise. 
Once out in the crisp evening air, you were stumbling across the pavement and George was pulling you to a stop to look at him. Hands trembling, you pushed your hair out of your face and kept your gaze downcast in near shame. 
“What’s wrong, darling?” George asked, rubbing your bare arms with his warm hands. 
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin your night.” you said shakily. 
“You didn’t ruin anything.” George brushed your apology off easily, “What’s wrong?” 
“I dunno…it just…was stuffy in there and overwhelming…I don’t feel too good.” you sniffled and he pulled you in for a gentle hug. With your arms tucked around your middle shyly, he held you close and pressed a kiss to your temple. You didn’t want to complain but you were still not feeling much better and you stood back from him again, holding a trembling hand to your mouth, “I feel so gross, George, can we please go home?” 
“Yes, my love, of course.” George took your arm and gently guided you towards the car. 
He opened the door for you and helped you in and even buckled your seatbelt for you before he shut the door and rushed around to the other side to get behind the wheel. You shut your eyes and leaned back in your seat, the world still slightly spinning around you. 
George turned the key and pulled away from the curb, “Did it come on this fast?”
You nodded, working up the courage to speak your response, “Felt really tired today and then dizzy while we were in the bathroom but…”
When your body made you lurch and you pressed your hand to your mouth, George’s wide eyes looked over at you. 
“Tell me to pull over if you need me to.” he instructed gently. 
You nodded in acknowledgement. 
“I’m sorry.” you mumbled. 
He reached over to set a comforting hand on your thigh, “Please don’t be sorry.” 
The street lamps of your perfect little community whizzed past your window as George hurried towards home, his gaze constantly flicking over to you from the street ahead just to make sure you were good. It was odd the way you so quickly felt sick and it honestly made him quite nervous, wondering what had happened to trigger such obvious illness within you in such a short period of time. 
It didn’t take long to get home since your neighbourhood wasn’t very large and George had barely put the car in park before you were tossing off your seatbelt and climbing out of your seat in a rush. George didn’t even turn off the car before he was hurrying after you towards the porch where you caught yourself on the white painted pillar and threw up in the garden. He was right behind you as you sputtered distastefully, pulling your hair away from your face for you as the nausea came over you again and you threw up for a second time right into your rosebush. 
“Oh my-“ you whimpered, eyes brimming with tears as you wiped your mouth with the back of your trembling hand. 
George hushed you comfortingly as you let out a little sob and he turned you to face him so he could easily pull you into a warm hug. You ducked your face in his neck, embarrassed, and your shaking hands grasped onto the back of his suit jacket to hold onto him comfortingly. 
“Let’s get you inside and into bed, okay?” he whispered to you, stroking your hair with a gentle hand that rubbed down your back. 
You nodded and sniffled and stepped away from him so he could hurry and turn the car off, gather your purse, and then return to your side to help you inside. Your spotless house greeted you warmly when George flicked on the lights but once glimpse at the kitchen had you panicked again. 
“We didn’t even get to eat. You must be starving-“
“I’m okay.” George assured you quickly, steering you towards the hallway so he could take you to bed, “I can find something for us. Are you hungry at all?”
“Maybe a little.” you answered softly. 
“Okay,” George pulled back the perfectly tucked bedsheets on your side of the bed and sat you down carefully, “I’ll get you into bed and maybe warm up some soup.” 
“Okay.” you breathed. 
He reached around you to unzip your dress and you lifted your arms up so he could pull it over your head. 
“I wanted us to have a nice night.” you mumbled sadly. 
“Hey,” George took your chin in his hand gently to get you to look at him, “I kinda enjoyed myself when we were there, did you not?” 
A little smile pricked at the corner of your mouth at his implication and you nodded slightly in agreement, “Yeah. I did.”
He smiled proudly back at you, your dress draped over his arm, and he reached behind you again to unclip your bra. He undressed you carefully and then helped you to shuffle into one of his sweatshirts. 
“I ruined your promotion.” you sighed sadly. 
“You didn’t ruin anything.” George assured you, gently untying the ribbon from your hair, as his voice lowered to a whisper, “It’s just a job…it’s barely a job. You know that.” 
“Yeah.” you said, “Although it’s nice that you’re being recognized. Makes this all a little easier.” 
George didn’t answer you for a second, his gentle hands stroking through your hair to smooth it down over your shoulders. When you looked up at him at his lack of response, he appeared deep in thought. 
“What is it?” you frowned. 
“Do you think you should take a pregnancy test, darling?” he asked softly. 
You almost scoffed, “What for?”
“Because you’ve been really tired and dizzy and you just threw up in our garden?” 
You bit lightly at your bottom lip and dropped your gaze to your lap. George’s fingers still danced through your hair as he stood in front of you, letting you decide on your answer for yourself. 
“I don’t think I could deal with it being negative.” you whispered to the carpet. “I can’t deal with that anymore and especially not here. I’ll fucking lose it.” 
George’s thumbs caressed your cheeks and he crouched down in front of you so you could look at him, taking your hands in his, “I know you want this more than anything but that’s the reason why we came here, remember? To have what we always wanted? You keep psyching yourself up about this like we’re still at home that you’re not even letting yourself enjoy it and think of the positives of what could be. We have this whole opportunity for us and I don’t want anything to hold us back from living this life that has been built for us.”
You nodded. 
George brought your joined hands to his mouth and he kissed your knuckles without taking his eyes off your downcast gaze and he whispered against your soft skin, “Please take a test?” 
You sniffled and lifted your head back to stare at the ceiling. 
“Please?” George said softly, pausing to kiss your hand again, “I’ll be right here.” 
Your bottom lip trembled and you shyly met his gaze, feeling warm butterflies in your stomach by the way the man you loved stared at you. It was obvious that he loved you more than life itself and you felt the exact same right back. With a moment's thought, you nodded and breathed out a barely audible, “Okay.” 
George honestly smiled and he stood up again, pausing just long enough to kiss your head before he was hurrying into the ensuite and pulled open the bottom cabinet, “Okay!”
You pressed the heels of your palms against your eyes as you tried to calm yourself down since your anxiety started to bubble up more in your chest. Still in a full face of makeup, smudging was the least of your concerns at that moment and you focused on deep breathing and keeping your tears at bay. 
George returned to his spot in front of you and he held out the pregnancy test to you. You could see how excited and impatient he was - even if he tried to tone it down for your sake - and the thought of having to tell him it was yet another negative made your throat feel like razor blades. Every time it completely broke your heart. He was so strong. This was your last resort. You had given up everything for this one last chance. 
You took the unopened test from him and felt the weight of it in your hands for a moment, staring down at the blank screen. 
“Where do you want me?” he asked thoughtfully. 
“Can you come in with me?” your voice was shaking. 
“Sure, sweetheart.” George stepped to the side and let you get up from the side of the bed.
You were less dizzy and nauseous but still terribly tired and he followed you closely into the bathroom just to make sure you were steady…and for your emotional support. He sat up on the bathroom counter as you shuffled your panties down and helped yourself to the toilet, holding the test between your legs while your singular evening party drink went right through you. 
You couldn’t remember what number test this was that you had taken and although it was the first since moving into this perfect little paradise of a community, the memory of your past experiences never faded. Your mind whirled with thoughts of the worst…if the alcohol in your recent drink would mess up the results, if you just had a sickness and that’s why you felt so strange all day, if you were too far lost for even a utopian community to save you and your dream.
The test was re-capped and George took it from you to rinse off while you cleaned yourself up and flushed. You wanted to be as far away from it as possible and you returned to the bedroom to sit on the side of the bed while George checked the time on his watch, test resting on the counter patiently. 
“Three minutes.” George said, following after you back into the bedroom. “Do you need anything? Some water maybe?” 
“No thank you.” you mumbled. 
He hesitated in front of you. 
“I’m going to get you some water.”
“George-”
He was already half out the bedroom door, “Be right back!”
He couldn’t sit still. You couldn’t move.
From the distant kitchen, you could hear him whistling that same tune that had been stuck in your head for ages but you didn’t have the energy to think much of it. Your leg bounced restlessly off the side of the bed, unknowing of the time, and you awaited your husband's return. He was so selfless. He was so good. 
Soon, he was returning quickly and he passed you a glass of water; always one to stay busy. You sipped a bit of it to humour him and despite the fact that your mouth was terribly dry, you did not want to drink. You almost felt sick again. Not wanting to go through the discomfort of throwing up again, you clenched your lips shut and stared at the carpet, trying to keep yourself calm. 
George checked his watch. 
You held out your glass to him as if by instinct and started to get up. 
“You should drink more, love-”
“I’m gonna be sick again.” you hurried out as you pushed past him into the ensuite. 
Dropping to your knees at the toilet, you threw up loudly, struggling to hold back your tears. George set your glass on the counter and crouched behind you to comfort you by pulling your hair from your face as your body had you lurching to throw up again. He rubbed your back and your shoulders and hummed that silly little tune quietly to try and help calm you down. 
“I’m sorry.” you mumbled weakly. 
“Stop apologizing.” he tisked, following you onto the ground as you slumped from your knees onto your bum. You leaned back against his chest and he flushed the toilet for you before wrapping you up in his arms lovingly, pressing tender kisses to your head. “Through sickness and health, remember?”
You let a small smile come to your lips at the faint memory of the quaint English church in the countryside, the gentle organ playing, and George standing before you at the altar with his hands holding yours. It felt like so long ago as if the essence of time was skewed in your mind. In a way, it really was. Life was so different now but you both were sure this would be better…be worth the end of what once was to find your new beginning together. 
“I love you.” you whispered. 
“I love you.” he promised into your hair. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay.” you sighed. 
He gave your hands a squeeze, “Think you can stand and we can take a look at this test of ours?”
You bit nervously at your bottom lip, “You look at it.” 
“You don’t want to look at it with me?”
You shook your head.
“You sure?”
You nodded.
“Can I help you off the floor first at least?”
You permitted him to stand up and he slowly helped you up onto wobbly legs and you returned to the bedroom to sit on the side of the bed. Picking anxiously at your fingernails, you watched as he returned to the bathroom counter directly in your line of vision. He took one last glance at you before he was picking up the pregnancy test from the counter and flipping it over to read it, not giving himself a moment to second guess himself. 
You struggled to read his expression as he read the result; his eyebrows furrowed and lips in a soft pout. You were waiting for the news you had grown all too used to. He wasn’t saying anything and you certainly didn’t want to be the first one to speak. 
George little sniffle had your heart racing with anxiety, making you near positive that it was yet another negative. He looked over at you from the ensuite, bathed in the surrounding artificial light in his tuxedo with his gelled hair falling out of place, and his soft pout was unmissable. A single tear slipped down his cheek. 
You sat frozen in place, aching for him to just rip off the bandaid, “What?”
“You’re pregnant.” he breathed, his voice breaking. 
It felt as though the air was knocked from your lungs. You blinked at him, “What?”
George broke into a grin and he nodded, reaching up to wipe his eyes with the heel of his palms before taking another look at the test. He let out a wet chuckle at the result that stared back at him, “Holy shit.”
“Bring it here.” you ordered, almost panicking in disbelief. 
George joined you on the side of the bed and you grabbed the test from him, almost glaring down at it in your hand. The screen revealed two pink lines, one just a little more faded than the other but still clearly visible to the naked eye. 
“See it?” George pointed to it as if you couldn’t see it yourself. “It’s so clear.” 
Your mouth opened as if to say something but no words came out. No words felt adequate at that moment. Opening and closing your mouth like a clueless fish, you felt dizzy with emotional overwhelm. 
“You’re pregnant, baby.” George rehashed it to you sweetly with a smile as he rubbed his hand over your back, “You have a little us growing inside you right now.” 
You couldn’t tear your wide eyes away from the positive test in your hand, stumbling over your next breath as you struggled to hold back the sudden wave of tears that threatened to overtake you. The air felt lighter and you gasped for relief, letting it out with a sob to your bedroom walls. 
“Oh God.” you cried tears of joy, your trembling hands clutching the positive test in your two handed grip and you pulled it to your chest. 
George embraced you right away, pulling you close with happy tears of his own. You turned towards him lovingly and rested your head on his shoulder with your face tucked in his neck, letting him hold you just like that, basking in the relief that was felt by the both of you. Your tears dripped onto the fabric of his tuxedo jacket even as you held open your palms again to get another look at those two pink lines. George kissed your temple proudly. 
“I love you.” he whispered shakily. 
“I love you.” you sniffled and finally turned to look him in the eye. 
Through your tears, you shared quivering grins and he reached a hand up to caress your cheek and then pulled you in for a wet chasté kiss. Both of you were smiling into your kisses but you couldn’t get enough and the love that swelled in your heart was almost overpowering, forcing you to grab onto his tie and really hold his lips on yours. Your tear streaked cheeks pressed together moistly and your kisses tasted faintly of those salty tears you shared but the warm happiness that burned within the two of you was enough to overtake even the darkest of days. 
You broke your kiss only to stare down at the confirmation you held in your hands, your palms delicately supporting the proof of your destiny. Sniffling as your tears slowed, you leaned against your husband who never once left your side, letting his fingers brush your hair over your shoulder so he could lean in beside you cheek to cheek.
“It was all worth it.” he said softly, rubbing his hand over your back, “I knew this would be good for us.” 
You nodded. 
“How are you feeling?” he asked gently, noting your silence. 
You looked back at him with a calm smile and lifted a hand up to slide around the back of his neck and rest his forehead against yours, “So happy. And finally so at peace.”
“Good.” George whispered. “You deserve nothing less.”
“We’re finally gonna have our family, George.” you smiled sweetly, “You and me. What we’ve been waiting so long for.” 
He swallowed you up in his arms, hugging you so tightly and so lovingly that you swore you never felt the heat of his love pass onto you as strongly before as it did in that moment. You felt as light as air and you melted into him happily, a peaceful smile on your face as you held onto him and let a content tune hum pleasantly from your lips. 
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The egg sizzled as it hit the bottom of the hot skillet, the kitchen filled with warm morning sunlight and the smell of cooking breakfast and brewing coffee that lured George from down the hall to join you. In only his work slacks and socks with his tie draped around his bare neck, he made you his priority over getting dressed, enveloping you in the scent of his cologne as he wrapped his arms around you from behind and dipped his shaved face into your neck. 
His hands glided softly under the hem of his sweatshirt you wore to feel the smooth skin of your still generally flat stomach, “Good morning, mommy.” 
You grinned to the stovetop at the reminder of the long-awaited news you had found out the night before and you leaned your head back against his shoulder to guide his lips to yours for a soft kiss. With his thumbs rubbing lovingly over your warm skin, you melted happily into him, “Good morning, daddy.”
Purely innocent and bursting with love for your family of two that would soon be made three, you shared a few more lingering kisses that made your heart swell. 
“You sure you feel up to making breakfast?” George asked softly with one more caress to your stomach and a kiss to your neck. 
“Yeah.” you assured him easily. “I like making you breakfast.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“I’m feeling so much better.” 
George kissed your temple and then slid away from you to retrieve his shirt from the ironing board where it was left in the living room as it was every morning. 
“Newspaper is already on the table.” you told him as he buttoned up his shirt on his way back over to you. “Your promotion made the front page.”
Living in such a small tight-knit community, there wasn’t much to report upon which only made George’s promotion big news. Front page worthy. He stopped at his usual spot at the kitchen island and glanced down at the newspaper as he tied his tie around his neck under the collar of his freshly ironed white shirt. Pausing to take a bite of toast from the plate that you had set beside the newspaper, he chewed as he straightened out his tie, still skimming the article. 
“I don’t know what’s the big deal.” he spoke through his mouthful, “Not like it’s a real promotion.” 
“Well, not everyone knows that.” you answered calmly, still tending to the bacon and eggs on the stove. 
“I guess.” George flipped to the next page before reaching for his mug for a sip of the steaming coffee that you had poured him. 
“We’re lucky to even be here under these circumstances. The other wives don’t know a thing.” 
George glanced up at you, knowing your conversation was treading towards dangerous territory surrounding the topic that was to be completely silenced under your discretion. You weren’t wrong, however, and thus it allowed you to be the one couple in the community that could freely speak to it - so long as you were completely alone and out of earshot of anyone else. 
“Does it scare you?” George asked. 
You plated the bacon and eggs and merely shrugged, “Sometimes. I don’t know their stories or why they’re here…what exactly led them to be a part of this without their knowledge. I can only hope that the husbands did it for the right reasons.” 
Your two plates clinked gently against the island countertop as you set them between you. 
“Besides,” you continued, “all I need to worry about is you and me. And our baby.” 
George broke into a grin and he leaned in to kiss you sweetly. 
“I know that we’re here for the right reasons.” you rubbed your hand up his chest and around the back of his neck, staring adoringly into his soft blue eyes.
“And that’s all that matters,” he agreed. “You and me.”
“You and me.” you nodded, pulling his lips on yours for another quick kiss. “And baby.”
“And baby.” he whispered happily. “Still so crazy…going to have to get used to that.” 
“I know.” you fed him a piece of bacon, “It’s only been months and months of trying and waiting.” 
“Are you going to start telling people today?”
“Should I?”
“If you want to.”
You took a bite of bacon for yourself, staring back at him with a sweet smile you couldn’t hold back, “Okay. Maybe I will.” 
Breakfast was eaten in close proximity, taking second rank of importance behind lovable kisses and whispers of excitement and adoration for each other and your growing family. George took one more piece of bacon for the road before he was grabbing his lunch tin and you were following him to the front door to say your goodbyes. 
“I really don’t want you to go.” you whispered, standing in the warm morning light of the foyer with your arms around his waist as he shrugged on his jacket. 
“I know, darling.” George smiled sadly. “But now more than ever it’s imperative that I go every day.”
“I know.” you sighed. “I love you for that.”
George held your face in his hands and pulled your lips to his for a brief kiss before telling you honestly, “I hate leaving.”
“I know.”
You shared another kiss as he insisted, “It’s the worst.”
“Mhm.”
“It’s scary sometimes.” 
“I know.” you leaned into him to capture his lips with yours in a lingering chasté kiss. 
He sighed into it through his nose, gently sliding his hands from your face down your shoulders and arms, and as he broke your kiss, he guided your hands out from around his waist. You laced your fingers together lazily between you and kissed him once more. 
“We’ll be waiting.” you promised. 
George’s melancholy expression pricked into a smile and he took one hand from yours to dust over the front of the sweatshirt you wore and then dip under the hem, caressing your warm skin lovingly. 
“Can’t wait until you start showing.” 
“Me neither.” you gushed, holding up your sweater for him as you both stared down at what was to become your baby, fingers of your other hands still linked together. 
George sunk down onto his knees and he gently slid his hands around your waist to press warmly against your back to pull you close. He dusted a sweet kiss to your stomach, right under your belly button, caressing your skin with his gentle loving hands, and you would have absolutely swooned. 
“Bye bye, my little one. Be good to mummy today.”
As he stood up, he gave you a smooth kiss next that you were both smiling into. 
“I love you.” you grinned adoringly. 
“I love you.” he promised, his eyes skimming across your make-up free face as if you were the most beautiful thing he had seen in his life, “See you tonight.”
“See you.” you breathed, letting him slip away from you and out the front door. 
You stood on the porch and waved him goodbye as he pulled the car out of the driveway and made his daily drive down your street among the line of fellow men as they journeyed to work together in a single file line.
George whistled happily in his car as the morning breeze took him to the outskirts of the neighbourhood and towards the vast desert landscape that framed your little oasis. With one arm resting on the open window beside him, he coasted in the steady lineup of cars that navigated towards the highly confidential headquarters where all the local men were to report for work at precisely 9am every morning. He hated leaving you but only more so now that you had both found out that you were finally expecting. On the other hand, it only proved to himself that his responsibility to attend his daily expectations was of the utmost importance. 
As the glass structure atop the desert mountains grew closer on his approach, his car radio crackled to life with the expected daily recording. 
“All male citizens on route to headquarters. Schedule is one time.” 
George absolutely dreaded the idea of leaving you but he had a duty to withhold that allowed you to live your life together in your ideal oasis that was already starting to give you everything you ever wanted. So he took the drive without complaint as the road turned into the steep mountainous climb towards the building overseeing the guarded little castaway town. 
The radio spoke again with the voice of the mayor, “Security risk is low. All units expected to pass without fault. Arriving at the gate in 3…2…1-”
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George’s chest gasped for air as his vision burst from light into the darkness that surrounded him, staring up into the dizzying patterns of light that were projected onto the ceiling above. He reached towards his face and carefully removed the metal clamps from his eye sockets and blinked feverishly a few times as the moisture re-settled over his irises. The wavering sound of white noise that filled the darkened room was almost invisible to him now and as he sat himself up in the bed and stretched his arms over his head and twisted his spine until it cracked in relief, he was unbothered by it. 
On his left, laying flat beside him, you laid peacefully, staring at the ceiling. The same clamps that he had been wearing also kept your eyes open, staring blankly up to the dark ceiling and the projection of light patterns that kept you stagnant. George shifted to face you on the bed and leaned down to kiss your pale cheek and caress your arm with the back of his finger. 
“I’m here, love.” he whispered, his voice slightly hoarse, “I’m still right here with you.”
Leaving you in place, he slowly got up from the bed and let his bare feet touch the cold wood floor beneath him as he opened the blackout curtains that framed the bed. The room was still pitch black outside of the canopy bed thanks to the extra safety barrier of curtains that covered each drafty window. You couldn’t be too safe. 
The floorboards creaked under George’s every step as he navigated the bedroom like he would every weekday and he pulled open the curtains from over one of the corner windows, allowing the room to be illuminated sufficiently by the morning sun. His eyes burned as the stream of bright light came flooding in and he rubbed his eyes with his fists as he once again became adjusted to the reality that surrounded him. 
The sunlight guided him to the nearby dust filled table in the corner of the room where he nudged a few of the dated newspapers and magazines to the side, ignoring the way the oldest copy of the Daily Mirror peeked out from the bottom of the pile with a headline that he always avoided looking at and yet couldn’t stomach throwing away. 
MAN & WOMAN DEAD IN TRAGIC DUAL SUICIDE
Your wedding picture was printed in black and white just below. 
George flipped open his notebook and sat down on the rickey wooden chair to write the date at the top of the fresh page and then recorded his physical status. He took his height, weight, heart-rate, and blood pressure and then did the same for you - all but weight - as you laid limpy on the bed. He scribbled the numbers down carefully and made sure to check you twice just to make sure everything was as it should be - especially since you were now in such delicate condition back in your perfect oasis. He couldn’t afford a single thing to go wrong. You were counting on him after all. 
“Perfect numbers today, darling.” George whispered to you as he closed his notebook and capped his pen, returning them both to the messy table across the room. 
Having been in only his boxers, George grabbed a folded sweatshirt from the bin under the table and pulled it on to brave against the chilly Scottish air that helped itself through the beams of the worn log cabin otherwise protecting you from the elements. He stepped out of the bedroom and made his way down the narrow hallway to the quaint and virtually untouched kitchen and living room area. The well water collection from Monday still sat on the counter and he scooped himself a glass of water to rehydrate for a moment as he took in the scenic views through the large tinted windows. 
Miles of lush forest sprawled in all directions for as far as he could see and after so long, he had started to forget which way was north or even which way civilization was. The Scottish highlands and forests were your only protection. Sometimes he wished you were able to watch the sunrise with him over the mountain peaks ever again but he had to force himself to stop missing what could be and focus on what now is. Your life was perfect together. Just you and him. 
Never permitted to set foot outside the cabin, George took the stairs down to the cellar and patted barefoot across the stone floor in the dark until he reached the sliver of light that peeked through the cellar door from outside. Hidden beneath the shallow stairs that led to the fresh air, a grey bin sat in the pitch black.
George knew the routine well so his eyes didn’t need time to focus as he crouched under the stairs and shuffled through the bin in the dark. The rustle of grocery bags drew his hands in and he lifted them up and out of the hiding spot to take back upstairs. He only reached back in for the final item - a small bouquet of flowers still wrapped in cellophane from the store. 
With a soft smile on his face, George took his time returning to the kitchen and he set his delivery on the stone countertop. The first bag contained a few food items for him such as non-perishable canned beans, peas, and cooked pastas in tomato sauce as well as a new bar of soap, a razor, and a few more similar necessities. The second bag contained a sealed medical kit in which George found needles, gause, tape, and rubbing alcohol. The medical bag of clear liquid was carefully wrapped in a clean towel alongside it. 
George organized the supplies into piles and then lifted up the bouquet of flowers again, pulling down the cellophane slightly to get a good look at the mix of brightly-colored tulips, peonies, roses, and hydrangeas nestled in a halo of baby's breath and greenery. He raised it to his nose to take a deep inhale, savouring the heavenly scent of fresh flowers. 
The card that was nestled within the flowers called his attention and he opened the little blank envelope to pull out the message inside. 
Happy anniversary 🤍
He always requested weekly flowers from his sister in order to keep some sense of romantic normalcy in your changing lives together but her little sneaky addition of the card brought a tearful smile to his face. He had almost forgotten your anniversary among the strange twists of life and time. Life in your new home was different than in the physical world…both in reality and the linear flow of time. He would have to make a point to buy you something in the shops on his drive back to your shared home that evening. 
But the generosity of his older sister never went unnoticed and he thanked the stars that he turned to her to keep your biggest secret. You had allowed George to choose the one person who would be your supplier for virtually the rest of your lives in hiding since he would be the one between the two of you who would return to the real world almost daily. It wasn’t a small ask to have her be the only person in the world to know your whereabouts and your story - to hide that from your families and friends as they grieved what they thought was your tragic and sudden death - but she was your most trustworthy and safest bet. Her devotion to her brother and you - her sister-in-law - was monumental and she managed to deliver the necessities to your secret hideaway twice a week like clockwork. George never knew how he would ever repay her. 
George took his time freshening up with the water from the well, sparingly rinsing himself off with soap and a washcloth before shaving over the bone dry bathroom sink to get the best look he could of himself in the grimy and cracked mirror. Even if you would never see him in person again, he always wanted to look his best for you. 
Then it was your turn and he took the bags back to your bedroom and set up the chair at your bedside to tend to you. You were laying perfectly still in your nightgown on the sturdy mattress with your ankles bound to the footboard and your arms resting at your sides. The IV needle was taped gently into your forearm and the bag hung on the metal pole just beside the bed, allowing a slow but steady drip of calorie-rich medicated liquid to keep your body fed and nourished while you laid in your stagnant state. 
George first replaced the flowers in the vase beside your bed, removing the week-old ones for the fresh ones that had been delivered by his sister. He refilled their water and arranged them nicely and spoke to you quietly about how nice they looked and how pretty they smelled. 
With washed hands and wearing medical gloves just to be extra cautious, George gently pulled the tape away from your skin and twisted off the IV drip from the needle that stayed nestled in your forearm. He wiped the area with rubbing alcohol to disinfect it and then retaped the needle in place. As he worked, he thought back to your conversation that morning and tried to imagine where the other husbands were at that moment and how they could tend to their wives like this without their consent. It nearly made George sick to think about that - about the possibility of having the one you loved most trapped there under his control for who knows how long simply for his own gain. That’s what made you and George different. You were in it together. You were in it for each other. 
With another clean cloth and the bar of soap, George gently washed down your body and rinsed you off the best he could, tending to you lovingly. He brushed your hair and your teeth and made sure you were lying comfortably even if you couldn’t feel anything. Leaning over you cautiously, he dropped a few eye drops into your still eyes to keep them moist as they were being held open by the metallic clamps. 
He then pulled out the new medical bag from the delivery from his sister and replaced it on the IV pole. He screwed in a fresh tube into the bottom of the bag and then attached the other end to the needle in your arm, double checking to make sure the drip was steady and as it should be. You only deserved the most precise treatment. 
To pass the day and keep an eye on you, he helped himself to a can of beans that he opened with a dull knife and hid the rest of the food stock away under the table in the bedroom. He sat at your bedside and ate quietly, keeping an eye on you and the IV as the minutes passed in the silence. 
When the food was done, George collected all of his garbage and any sign of life from the kitchen to hide away in an empty grocery bag in the bedroom until he would have to place it in the cellar bin for his sister to retrieve at her next stop-over. He locked the bedroom door behind him and returned to your bedside, straightening up the vase on your nightstand and he gently picked up the white music box beside it. The lid was topped with a baby blue decal of a sleeping puppy and framed in little stars and George smiled softly down at it as he turned it around in his hands to crank the tiny handle at the bottom. 
He had purchased it years ago when you were first trying for a baby, back when life was simple but the weight of its burdens rested heavy on your shoulders. Back then, it all seemed hopeful and exciting as newlyweds wanting to expand your family and George couldn’t help but buy something to surprise you on the eventual day you would find out you were pregnant. He never ended up being able to gift it to you but it stayed with him the whole time and found its rightful place in this cabin with you while you gave up your lives for your ultimate dream. 
When the music box was fully primed, he delicately turned it back around in his hands and opened the lid, letting the familiar gentle tune fill your otherwise silent cabin. He had shamefully played it a few times before when he would find himself alone during the days and waiting beside your still body just like that, maybe to hope for some sort of promise that things would work out. He never knew you could subconsciously hear him during the days when he left to tend to you like that but he found comfort in it too. Neither of you were ever truly alone. 
The soft tune played softly from the nursery music box and George helped himself to his side of the bed alongside you, resting back against the pillows to stare at you just a little longer in the patterned lights that were projected to the ceiling of your canopy bed. Soon, he would be called back by the passing of time to return to your true presence in your perfect little paradise with your growing dream tucked safely inside you. 
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Text
Stitches of love
-> bakugo x fem! Reader
-> domestic, fluff, romance, she / her
-> reader finds herself going crazy over what to get her mitsuki for motherday, little does she know she had a helping hand all along.
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"Katsuki please just give me some ideas what to get her" y/n pleaded as she rests her head in her hands. The list infront of her started back as she scratches out all her ideas so far on what to get her mother in law for her birthday. Jewellery? No she had so much, a holiday? Seems like a large present for your first year as her official daughter in law, home made jam?–
"She'd love anythin' if you gave it to 'er" Katsuki grumbles as he sips his coffee staring at y/n. They both knew he was right, y/n could give mitsuki a lump of dirt and She'd be so greatful you'd swear it was a lump of gold. But if katsuki gave it to her? He'd never hear the end of how thoughtless it was...
"What are you getting her? Surely you've ran out of ideas aswell?" Y/n rubs her face in defeat as she realises she only has 3 days to find a present. The clock is ticking, especially since you have to buy it, wrap it, and pray its good enough.
"Got her and the old man tickets to that candle lit concert in Tokyo, gotta meal for them aswell before the show" katsuki says as it's the most obvious thing ever... because everyone can afford to get expensive tickets to a private showing of the Tokyo orchestra at candlelight. Y/n huffs as she moves herself away from the table, frustrated as her plans were coming to a dead-end. Katsuki shrugs as suggests they can share the present as that wouldn't be a problem, but for y/n , she wanted her own present for her own mother in law.
"Back to the drawing board"
2 days to go
The dim lights of the lamp cascade over y/n as she tries to pull out another knott that's found its way into the ball of yarn.
"Stupid thing, why are the strings so thin–"
"Why are you still awake?" Katsuki emerges from the kitchen, peeping his head into the living room to find his wife tangled in balls of yarn, frustrated at the pattern in front of her. Who know making a blanket was so difficult?
"I can't figure the pattern out, why is knitting so hard katsu! Why do people do this to relax"
"Cuz old hags have all the time in the world to do that stuff, now get your ass to bed"
The small half-arsed square that was meant to be a blanket falls flat into y/ns lap as she realises this was another failed attempt at a present for mitsuki. The blanket would've had to of been perfect, can't give a seamstress a rag and pass it off as a blanket made out of love. What symbol would that give?
"Stupid yarn"
1 day to go
The perfect way to a person's heart is through their stomach, is that how the saying goes? Doesn't matter! Either way you found yourself 3 cakes deep into perfecting this stupid old recipe. katuki claims " the old hags loves "... but why is it so hard to master the recipe?
Many hours into baking whatever is in the oven, because there's no way you can even call the lumpy mess a 'cake'. Katsuki takes over as he cannot let anything to be made in his kitchen be considered inedible. You watched as katsuki whipped around the kitchen, making dinner and cleaning up the mess you made. What are you going to do now? The deadline is near, and you've nothing to bring to the dinner tomorrow for mitsuki?
Great way to impress your mother in law
"Listen, she won't care if you've nothin in your hands sweets, trust" Katsuki says to distract you from your storming thoughts.
"I just don't know what to do babe, I've tried so many ideas. I don't have to give up but what choice do I have–"
"Quit your ramblin and go wash up before dinner," katsuki cuts your rambles with instructions. He knows it's best to distract you if you're having working thoughts.
You make your way to the bathroom to wash up before dinner. Your head is still flooded with last minute ideas of presents to give mistuki.
"Where's all the soap gone? Why doesn't katsuki refill the container when it's empty? Typical" you say, reaching into the press to grab and refill the soap dispenser. You make a quick note of things you need to get in the shops before you go to dinner tomorrow as you're almost out of some essentials.
As you rummage through the bathroom cabinet, your fingers brush against a small, inconspicuous box tucked behind some toiletries. Curiosity piqued, you retrieved it, your heart quickening as you read the label. With a mixture of trepidation and hope, you take a gamble with this last chance of a home made present.
Birthday dinner
Mistuki has been filling yous in on her latest fashion looks she has been in the process of designing since last spring. Masaru has just set down the tea post dinner as you've all settled into the sitting room to unwind after that very tasty dinner katsuki scrubbed up. Who knew your man was so kind?
"Here's your present ma..." katsuki sheeply hands over his gift knowing his mother will make a deal out of the concert he has gotten her tickets for. You watch as mistuki stumbles over with glee as she hugs? Katsuki and thanks him. You haven't seem them hug since you had gotten married!
Masaru thanks katsuki for getting him a ticket also, placing the present aside waiting for the two blonds to settle down.
" it's something small, hope we can all share this special present" you hint towards the box you hand over to mitsuki. Katsuki looks at you knowingly you done fucked up the blanket and the cake, so what did you get her?
Mistuki opens the box to find a tiny baby blanket you had hand knitted from the rags you started with, paired with a tiny test signaling your little life growing within.
Mistuki stumbles over the test, clarifying with you that what she is reading really is coming true!
"YOUR PREGNANT?!"  She gleams as she jumps from her seat shuffling over to hug you. Katsuki looks at you with hope in his eyes, why hadn't you told him?!
"Yes , I hope this trumps katsuki present mistuki" you hug Mistuki back as masaru looks into the box reading the little note beside the blanket
"Cant wait to snuggle you in this blanket made out of love, sweat and tears,
Love, baby bakugo due 2X25"
Yep. You've finally outdone your husband in gift giving.
Now how will you out do Masarus birthday..
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What did I just write...
Ew
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merakiui · 2 months
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Oh man the TWST boys as slashers with a final girl reader…the possibilities are endless!
Jade and Floyd as a Ghostface duo who terrorize you and your group of friends, while hiding in plain sight. You think you managed to finally incapacitate the tweels, but out of nowhere another Ghostface shows up and kills your last reminding friend. He unmasks himself and it’s Azul, the student council President
Or Epel…whose farm you and your friends take refuge at after your van runs out of gas. His family takes pride in their prize apple orchard, and they find your friends’ obnoxious and boisterous airs to be annoying. But not you. Epel thinks you’re so sweet and gentle. You don’t make fun of his accent and don’t laugh at his stature like on of your stupid friends did. Epel thinks you’d be a perfect little farm wife, while your friends would serve as the perfect fertilizer for the orchard, a recipe that has been passed down through the family for ages.
Or…that strange horned man that shows up in your dreams. You have no idea who he is, how you were able to conjure him up in your imagination, but it seems he shows up every night to simply relish in your company and dance with you in the foggy dreamscape. Your friends dream of Malleus too…right before the dreams turn into nightmares, and the brutal death they experience in the dream somehow kills them in real life.
GHOSTFACE AZUL.......... AND HE'S THE STUDENT COUNCIL PRESIDENT????????? WAAAAAAAA anon, this thought will be plaguing my mind FOREVER. AAAAAAA and maybe it's a school you go to that is full of the wealthy (so essentially NRC without the magic), so it absolutely rocks the student body when students start going missing and turning up dead in brutally efficient ways. How is it possible??? The affluent neighborhood is known to be safe. No one would ever suspect perfect Student Council President Azul Ashengrotto, who only ever has everyone's best interests in mind. >_< thinking about Zuzu killing out of revenge. He's got a list of all of the people who bullied him and you're on it, but as your friends start to die one by one he sees you soften (mostly out of fear) and suddenly you're not that same bully who tormented him all throughout his childhood. He's starting to get attached. orz
Slasher Epel... uwuuwaaaa it's too perfect. OTL Epel killing all of your friends and forcing you to be his farm wifey!!!!!!! You don't want to end up like your friends, used as fertilizer or chopped up and fed to the pigs. >_< learning to be a good wife for him by starting a family with him and slowly being conditioned into the domestic life. <3
And the Malleus idea!!!! :O *chef's kiss* he is a horror beyond comprehension, but to you he's just the soft, horned sweetheart who visits your dreams to waltz and chat with you. It seems as if anyone who gives you a hard time turns up dead, and your dreams keep getting sweeter and sweeter. You'll stay in the dream and never want to wake up, won't you? After all, isn't a life spent in bliss with your new horned friend far better than the scary reality that awaits you outside of your dreams? :) in choosing Malleus, you never wake up again.
May I offer slasher Cater in return? orz orz orz the duality of bright, bubbly uni student Cater versus the scary, silent slasher who's coming after you and your friends during your spring break trip to a beach house on some desolate strip of shore. >:D
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mr2swap · 2 months
Text
Family therapy: A promising future.
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-What do you think of “dad”? The first place medal again, aren't you proud of me?- After the flash of the photo I looked at his old and tired face, he barely made a small smile that seemed totally fake, I knew what was hidden behind his smile, only jealousy and bitterness, I was sure what was going through his mind right now:
“That should be me, you stole my youth, my life, my triumphs”
But I think deep down he knew that all of that was a lie, he wouldn't have been able to get to where his body is now if it wasn't for me his father, Before I took his life he was just a teenager slowly approaching failure.
-HEY! Let's take a picture with just the guy for the hall of fame
My Ex-wife Karol and my son Nathan walked away from me and The photographer started taking pictures of my perfect body, When I did a double bicep curl the camera flash focused completely on me, My son Nathan's face of defeat In my old body was just funny. Maybe at one point Nathan could have accomplished all of this on his own, but now he was just a sad, overweight old man.
-Congratulations… “Son”-
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Before I was a retired man, I used to be a teacher and had seen hundreds of kids like my son Nathan, he started skipping a few classes, failing most of the tests, going to the infirmary in PE and then getting caught smoking pot with his friends behind school. I knew if I didn't do something drastic, what would be the end of my son Nathan frying French fries at McDonald's and living in a tiny apartment with his teenage sweetheart who is pregnant.
His mom and I were so sick of Nathan we started fighting, and it led to a divorce, the only thing I had left in my life was Nathan and I couldn't let that last one slip through my hands.
Since there was someone who could help me and that was my old boss and friend, Principal Morris, we had done this trick so many times to deal with the Bullies in the school, just swapping their bodies for a week with their victims would make them turn model students.
I called him and I found out my problem with my son, without asking him, he gave me the recipe for his secret elixir, the body swapping potion, it was enough for two people to drink a bit of that potion, and they would immediately be in each other's bodies, and that I did I poured some into my coffee and into Nathan's breakfast juice, he didn't even notice the taste he drank every drop of that juice until he started to feel the effects of the potion.
Just a little dizziness, A little sleep and a blink later Our souls traded places occupying each other's bodies. Nathan was so confused by the identical person in front of him that he ran off to his room like a madman, he didn't even realize his huge belly was bouncing up and down as he ran his little feet around his old room where I sleep now.
Meanwhile, I was left alone in the dining room admiring my new youth In the kitchen mirror, It felt good to be a teenager again Although there was a lot of work to be done, I ran my hands over my soft and weak arms, but I already had everything planned, he had even bought a membership to the gym that was close to Nathan's school.
When everything seemed calmer in Nathan's room, pretending totally that you didn't know what hadn't happened, I spent hours pretending that I was on the computer looking for my information on body switching and things like that so that Nathan wouldn't suspect that I had something. What to do with this
I tried to calm him down by telling him that he wouldn't have to worry about anything in my body, he could sit his ass on the sulfate all day Watching TV or playing his video games and no one would notice that he was really just a 15-year-old, meanwhile I would go to the school and would pretend to do it.
As the years passed I improved Nathan's life, in just one year Nathan's life improved, his grades were perfect, and all the dedication I put into Nathan's diet and gym paid off, Nathan's adolescent muscles reacted very well to protein powder and weight lifting.
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I got rid of the good for nothing, my son's friends and started making new friends at the gym my Gym bros, It's great to be young again, making friends is so easy, especially when you look as big and handsome as me.
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And while I was living My second life they need, he didn't seem to get used to his new life, he avoided leaving the house as much as possible, and he became grumpy, all he does is clean the house, go to the supermarket and spend all day insulting kids his age while playing online video games, He hates when I walk shirtless around the house demanding my hard horny muscles or when I pose for the pictures I post on my new Instagram, he was so upset that his life has improved so much that he refused to give me his social media passwords, but it's okay there's nothing to make me proud of old Nathan.
Maybe in a couple of years when Nathan learns what it's like to be an adult responsible for getting back into his body In the meantime I'll enjoy myself a little more being a teenager, maybe I'm ready for dating now, I've always wanted to try something new, and I can't stop From looking at all the hot guys in the gym, and they keep staring at me, I don't think Nathan will mind if I fuck a guy or two while I'm in his body.
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Sup If you liked this story or any of my other stories you can take a look at my story archive by subscribing to my page on Ko-fi, there are a lot of stories that haven't been published here yet and that are too hot for Tumblr.
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romanovthinkver · 5 days
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pov: you’re scarlett johansson’s wife // sfw headcanons
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scarlett knows you’re in love with New York and despite having drivers that can easily bring you to one side to another of the city, she knows you prefer taking the subway. you’re favourite is the Q train where you can see the best landscapes as it’s an open train space. your wife always makes sure to pick up a spot by the door, she always says “i want to see that beautiful smile on your face the whole ride” and as you watch the train going from Manhattan to Brooklyn, scarlett wraps an arm around your waist and looks up at you with pure love.
scarlett loves how you adore your county despite its bad sides. you’re here for work so you don’t go back home as much as you would want. the last time was at christmas two years ago with all the family. little pieces of your culture are spread in the house tho, through the food, the flag you hung in your home office, some products you buy at the authentic drug stores owned by people of your home-country. you also started to teach the kids your childhood traditions, your favourite meals, your native language even. sometimes you go out in typical restaurants, or the one that claims to be typical when they’re not, and your wife has to listen you ramble about how they couldn’t make a simple dish of your land and instead ruined it. “can you believe baby? they ruined it, look at this: chicken. why? there’s no chicken in the original recipe and yet i see chicken here, why you americans put chicken everywhere?” scarlett would laugh and sometimes record your little grumbles. the kids loves when you, their mama, cook home land dishes of a culture they’re starting to feel like theirs. your wife loves when your accent rolls off your tongue when you’re tired or pissed, sometimes even when you two fuck roughly; it send her over the edge in no time. however the thing she likes the most is when you speak in your native language giving her or the kids pet names or when you whisper “i love you.”
you’re the biggest supporter ever. the way your eyes shine when you stand beside scarlett at movies premiers, it’s unmatched. you always buzz around your wife when she’s being prepared by make-up and hair-stylists taking extra time to snap some phots of her proudly. you make sure her dress is always perfect and adjust it often during the carpet. you make sure scarlett is always hydrated, not only with alcohol but with water too!, and fed because these things are stressful and your lady has to be healthy. you step back when she poses for paparazzi photos even tho she insists to have you beside her, she would softly place her hand on your chest clothed by the black jacket and shares smiles and little whispers. “you’re so beautiful, baby” or “i can’t take my eyes off you” these are the words that you find to whisper to her in that moments when your eyes are glued to her form, your hand gently cradles her back. you in the end step back giving your wife the deserved moment in the shiny flashes of the photographer’s bulbs, she poses and you look at her, sometimes you would snap a few picture too of her beside the paparazzi. scarlett would peck your lips amidst the event, they reassure you like a warm blanket and she softly pass her slender fingers to wipe her lipstick off your lips. you watch the movie with rapt attention because despite everything, before meeting her, you were and are a fan of her movies. in the end you always hug her and pepper her lips and cheeks whispering “congratulations my love, you were brilliant!”, “i can feel the oscar baby, can i start your campaign now?”, “i’m so incredibly proud of you, you’re a movie star” or “look at that baby, they’re all clapping and cheering for you, you’re so inspiring.” at the after party you both dance, engage in conversation with people and sometimes only seat at the bar together. you make sure to drink only safe drinks and let your wife party as she deserve. you take care of her and by the end of the night she’s not much sober but you steady her holding by her waist, your suit jacket always ready to shield the woman from the cold gently rest on her shoulders and her heels accomodate your feet while she wears you’re much more comfortable shoes.
scarlett started a skin care brand line with her friend and co-founder, kate foster. you, despite not knowing a thing about skin care, started to be supportive since the first day. however you didn’t know your wife would make you be a tester. you forgot how many times you ran around the house to dodge her “c’mon baby let’s try this eye cream, i swear it will be good for your eyes!” or the times she would let you sit on the bathroom sink with a blue argyle mask on your face, a hand band with the brand logo that would definitely make your curls frizzy and messy. you would groan and grumble a lot but your wife is always quick to kiss you. in the end you fell into a routine of doing this pampering ritual every night. slowly you started to learn a lot about skin care and your wife’s work. you also would crash often at her office to just bring donuts and coffee or sneak to spend more time with your wife and the team. and much to your dismay, scarlett will never stop treating you like a tester, she’s already planning on dragging you at the offie to record some funny videos of her putting on your face brand new face creams.
talking about videos, you hate cameras and photos. oh you’re the opposite of your wife in this department. you’re a diplomat, an ambassador specifically, so you barely stand in front of cameras and address speeches, a safe way to do what you love without struggling with the media press. however since you got into a relationship with your wife and got married, you quickly became a target to paparazzi’s cameras. you awkwardly stand beside your wife when you’re taking photos at the event she has to attend, but scarlett is always there to calm you down with soft touches, whispers and little pecks. “it’s okay baby, focus on me, everything’s is alright”. when they catch you in the street you go protective over the kids and wife putting your discomfort aside. “little one it’s okay, look at mama, everything is okay. scarlett, baby, come closer to me. it’s okay”. when you’re alone, you just hide behind a hoodie hood. you rarely talk to the microphones and usually only offer politely smile and shield your anxious eyes.
scarlett never saw you crying in the years you’ve been together and probably she thought she would never. this until your wedding day arrived. oh, boy! the moment you saw her walking down the aisle you started crying for her endlessly beauty and the overwhelming love you have for her. after that you cried again, much harder, when your little girl was born. scarlett loves teasing you a lot about it. you blush rolling your eyes playfully and dismissing her with a groan.
you rarely fight but when you do, and it’s always for silly things, it doesn’t take much to crack the hard shell. one of you crawl in the arms of the other not much more than 1 hour later. you’re an ambassador so your job is to make peace, after toxic experiences in your past relationship, your communication level is high and you’re lucky enough to have found scarlett that is on the same page as yours. scarlett would hold you close and kiss the crown of your head. “i’m so sorry my love, i promise to work better on these things.” you would kiss her knuckles and whisper “i’m sorry too, baby, we’ll work on them together.”
at the end of the day it’s just you and your wife. you softly sway in the gold sunrise painting your skins. scarlett arms wrapped around your neck cradling the glass of wine between her hands while she leans to ghost your lips. your hand on her hip, the other hold your glass of wine close to the chest. you both hum the song that is putted on the background while behind you food cooks on the stove and mixes with the noises of the city. it’s peaceful, it’s a paradise, it’s you and the love of your life in a life that isn’t perfect, but has a glimpse of perfection shared together.
a/n: pt.2? nsfw part?
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mazzystar24 · 11 months
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I actually feel so emotional over Bobby and Buck’s father/son dynamic, just the found family of it all is so perfect, like Buck’s parents’ excuse for not loving him is the death of their son but Bobby lost two of his kids and his wife and still manages to love not only Athena’s kids like his own but buck too
Also Buck’s parents making him believe for years he was hard to love vs Bobby having to actively try not to love him in season 1 and eventually giving up and basically being like fuck it you’re my son now
Even the way they treat Buck’s recklessness they do it in terms of how could you do that to us but Bobby is more like how could you do that to yourself (if that makes sense, it makes sense to my brain)
And Buck’s parents never showing up to his hospital visits vs Bobby going through every bit of recovery with buck after his leg
And just the cooking and secret recipes and the family vibes of it all I can’t even
I love their dynamic so much you don’t understand
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